.
"Name, rank, and company!" yelled the man at the door to the sawbones quarters. "Oswald, Joe, corporal, fourth Iowa.".
"Oswald, remove your cap, shirt, and drop your trousers. The doc will check you next.".
The smell in the room was so intense that my stomach ached. The floor was painted in blood. I will never forget his hands as they ran across my body looking for wounds. They were covered in layers of blood. I could not tell where the nail ended and the skin started. I was even more shocked when one of those fingers inspected my crap hole. Once he was done, a rather large demanding woman ordered me to dress and a guard forced me out of the room. I stumbled down the back stairs and fell face first in the pile of limbs. I vomited so violently I passed blood. .
I regained my footing, realigned my duds, and was greeted by another reb guard. .
"Come, you dog!" he ordered. .
I joined a group of approximately thirty other soldiers, and we were escorted to a staging area. We were ordered to stand still and if we failed to do so we would be shot dead. The guard was not kidding. Several minutes after we arrived, a soldier several rows behind started to fall to the ground. Before he hit the ground, one of the guards unloaded his revolver into the prisoner's head. We were made to stand in the driving sun for hours while many groups of new prisoners were brought into the staging area. Once the area was full to overcrowded, a grey coat with a lot of chicken guts on his shoulders appeared. He walked with a slight limp and appeared to have trouble moving one of his arms. We were ordered to stand at attention because he was the camp commander. It appeared he plans to address the crowd of prisoners. Once on the wooden box, it was clear the man held the rank of captain. He introduced himself, but I could not understand what he was saying. He spoke with broken English and had a strong foreign accent. He concluded his speech and returned to the small house at the end of the area.
