The breast and sleeve of his coat had been torn away, and I could see the frazzled end of his shirt sleeve, which appeared to be sucked into the wound.

I looked at it pretty close, and I said "Great God!" for I could see his heart throb, and the respiration of his lungs.
I was filled with wonder and horror at the sight.

He was walking along, when all at once he dropped down and died without a struggle or a groan.
I could tell of hundreds of such incidents of the battlefield, but tell only this one, because I remember it so distinctly.
ROBBING A DEAD YANKEE In passing over the battlefield, I came across a dead Yankee colonel.
He had on the finest clothes I ever saw, a red sash and fine sword.
I particularly noticed his boots.

I needed them, and had made up my mind to wear them out for him.

But I could not bear the thought of wearing dead men's shoes.