He felt that he had faithfully performed his duty.

When he began to be drowsy, he settled himself in the most comfortable place he could find on the ground, and thanked God that he had been spared his life through the perils of that awful day, and more fervently that he had been enabled to do his duty like a good soldier; and then, with the Giver of all Good, the Fountain of all Mercy, in his heart, he fell asleep.
He slept several hours, and waked up to find himself as thoroughly soaked as though he had just come out of the river.

There was no help for it, and it was no use to grumble.

After walking to and fro for half an hour, he lay down again, and, between sleeping and waking, finished the night; uncomfortably, it is true, and yet without any positive suffering.

There were hundreds, if not thousands, who were enduring the agony of fearful wounds through that long night; who were lying alone and uncared for where they had fallen in the deadly strife; who were dying every hour, away from their homes and friends, and with no kind hand to minister to their necessities, with no sweet voice of a loved one to smooth their passage down to the dark, cold grave.
Tom thought of these, for he had seen them in his path, and he felt that he had no cause to complain--that he ought to be cheerful and happy.