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The putrid smell of flesh singed by black powder permeates my nostrils as I lie here at the regimental hospital in Kennesaw. My thoughts however are at New Hope Church, wondering the fate of my comrads. The surgeon is fairly certain that I shall recover completely from the wound which has placed me here.
Little did I know that after 18 years of fighting a 4 year war, the only wound I was yet to receive would be inflicted by my own self. I cannot even imagine how many times I have placed a revolver in the half cock mode in order to check the movement of its mechanisms and safely returned it to its holster. Nor can I imagine how it is that the hammer fell upon the cap unleashing a point blank shot into my lower abdomin.
Prior to this unfortunate occurance the event was progressing splendidly as the Mill always goes. Regretfully I can offer no more insight into the battle as I was evacuated after having fired almost the first shot.
It is somewhat appropriate that in the confusion that is my life, this should occur. I have ridden insane horses carrying pistols, rifles, sabers and side knives through many hazardous actions and come out unharmed. And then I accidently shot myself as an infantry bugler, with nary a horse around.
I anxiously await more news of the battle.... which others will doubtless provide.
(as I dictate this, I am lying on a hospital bed, awaiting final treatment- while my girlfriend types away on the laptop.)
Little did I know that after 18 years of fighting a 4 year war, the only wound I was yet to receive would be inflicted by my own self. I cannot even imagine how many times I have placed a revolver in the half cock mode in order to check the movement of its mechanisms and safely returned it to its holster. Nor can I imagine how it is that the hammer fell upon the cap unleashing a point blank shot into my lower abdomin.
Prior to this unfortunate occurance the event was progressing splendidly as the Mill always goes. Regretfully I can offer no more insight into the battle as I was evacuated after having fired almost the first shot.
It is somewhat appropriate that in the confusion that is my life, this should occur. I have ridden insane horses carrying pistols, rifles, sabers and side knives through many hazardous actions and come out unharmed. And then I accidently shot myself as an infantry bugler, with nary a horse around.
I anxiously await more news of the battle.... which others will doubtless provide.
(as I dictate this, I am lying on a hospital bed, awaiting final treatment- while my girlfriend types away on the laptop.)
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