The battle was the hardest fought so far, and the losses on both sides were heavy. At the roll call this morning 175 were missing from the Second Regiment, but this number will doubtless be cut down as stragglers come in. Of my eight tentmates, six went. Two [Harvey Holt and Henry Morse] were killed outright, and one [George F. Lawrence] was severely wounded in the head. I got my little upset at the very tail-end of the fight. The regiment had crossed over to the opposite hill, and about a hundred of us had taken cover in a cut in the road. We had a house on our front, some secessionist cannon up near it, and enough of the enemy to give us a real lively time. There was a rail fence along the edge of the cut, and I rested my musket on one of the rails, and carefully sighted on a fellow who seemed to be showing off. Then something happened. A cannon ball struck the rail, one of the fragments hit me in the head and neck, and I rolled down the bank. I heard one of the boys cry out “Mart is killed!” and for about half a minute I didn’t know but what I was. But when we had to break for the rear, a few minutes later, I had no trouble in keeping up with the procession.
In all my life I never suffered from thirst as I did that day. On the advance, our regiment was right at the ford of Bull Run creek when the head of the column sighted the enemy. A staff officer rode back with the announcement and called to the men to fill their canteens. I waded up a few feet and filled my canteen with good clear river water. A little while after, I took a drink, spat out the tepid mouthful in disgust, and emptied the canteen. I learned my lesson and will never do that again. Before that day was over I would have given dollars for one square drink of that same water. On the retreat I one time scooped up a few sips from a mud puddle through which men and horses and wheels were ploughing their way. Before reaching Centreville I filled up clear to the ears from a little trickling rivulet, and filled my canteen as well. Laid down in the old bivouac, and went to sleep. After two or three hours was waked up and told to keep agoing. The old thirst was on me, but when I lifted my canteen it was empty—drained to the last drop. If I could have got hold of that sneak thief the casualty list would have been one bigger, I think.