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When we camped the night before, Walb and myself planned for a substantial night's rest. For the first time since breaking camp, on the night of March 28th, we unpacked our blankets and made a bed. It was after sunrise when we awoke. Far to the right we could hear the low grumble of artillery, sounding like the roar of distant thunder.
As we passed along, the dead lay scattered here and there as they fell. There was something startlingly solemn in those motionless forms, the stony eyes staring in the moonlight. Beyond the church I found a large number of prisoners, and turned over my man to the guards, and started to return. I was joined by L. C. Walb, who had also been back with prisoners.
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