Chronological History of the American Civil War

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After Captain Gillispie was wounded and taken prisoner, on the 21 st of July, ’64, at Bald Hill, Atlanta, Lieutenant Thayer had command of the company, Lieut. Linnell being on detached service. A little more than three weeks after Bald Hill—August 14—we were stationed in a very dangerous position, the enemy’s lines being close to us. Balls dropped in among us every now and then. The most of them struck the ground or the trunks of trees, but once in a while some poor fellow was hit. There was no safety for any of us, day or night. But the daily experience of that terrible summer of ’64 had made us so familiar with danger and death that we did not mind much about our daily little visitors, excepting when they hit somebody near us. One day Lieut. Thayer was sitting on a bunk that had been built close to the works and was talking to some of the boys sitting near him, when a ball came through the woods in our front, passed just over the top of the works, and struck him in the side, passing between the fifth and sixth ribs. The boys thought at first, he was mortally wounded, and that he would soon die. They gathered around him, all trying to do what they could for him. It seems that he and William Moshier* -- the two had been fast friends—had once promised each other that if anything happened to either, the other would stand by him to the last. Just after the lieutenant was wounded, he asked, “Where is William Moshier?” Will was soon at his side and supporting him in his strong, loving arms. The wound, as I remember it, was as if a knife had been thrust between his ribs into his side. I suppose the ball must have been flattened before hitting the Lieutenant by striking against the limb of a tree. The surgeon was soon at hand and ordered the wounded man taken to the hospital. He said, “Will, I want you to go with me.” A detail was soon got for Moshier, and he went with Thayer to the hospital, near Marietta, to act as his nurse as long as needed. No man could have served our wounded Lieutenant and comrade more faithfully, tenderly and skillfully than did Will Moshier. He was not well himself, and he really needed attendance, but he scarcely ever left the bedside or ceased for one moment his careful attention, except to get such sleep as was actually necessary. I know all this, for I was in the same hospital myself, and was often where I could observe the loving devotion bestowed upon Lieutenant Thayer. At first, he began to improve quite rapidly, and we thought he would surely recover. The doctor was kind and cheerful, and Thayer was very hopeful. About the last of September, however, he began to lose strength and to grow worse in every way. The doctor soon saw that he must die. He became very weak, but his mind was clear to the very last. I was with him at the time of his death. During the last forty-eight hours he was too weak to speak but Will Moshier stood over him and understood by every look just what he wanted. His great desire has been to get home before he died, but that blessed privilege was denied him. His life ebbed quietly away—so quietly that we hardly knew when the last breath came. At the very last he looked up with all the expression in his eyes of a well man. All along during his sickness he was very patient, full of courage, and hopeful. He was pleased with all that was done for him, and thankful for every kindness. He thought that everything his faithful nurse did for him was just right. Moshier says that the Lieutenant did not like to call on him nights for help, because he wanted him to get all the rest he could; and that he should have tired quite out had it not been for his patient’s gentleness and gratitude. On the post mortem examination, it was found that one of his lungs was quite gone, but the ball could not be found. The surgeons thought it was the jar of the ball against his ribs that cause the decay of his lung.