a wound you cannot amputate." As soon as he had uncovered it, he said, "It would be much better for you, my boy, if I could."
When my shirt was cut off, I discovered another wound on my left arm about half way between the shoulder and elbow. The bullet had chipped off a spot as large as a silver dollar but had not buried itself in the flesh. The arm was black and very much swollen. My wounds were soon bandaged and I was laid on the ground beside the railroad track to await transportation to Fortress Monroe. From there I was sent to Long Island College Hospital in Brooklyn, N. Y. When convalescent I was ordered to the Invalid Camp at Alexandria, Va. I did not relish the idea of becoming a "condemned yankee" as the members of Invalid Corps were then called. In going through Washington we passed by the Armory Square Hospital, then in charge of Dr. Bliss. I "fell out" and went into his office. Fortunately I found him at his desk. When he looked at me he recognized me at once and said, "See here, young man,
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