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"The next day we arrived at a post where rations were plenty, and where it was announced we should remain for a week or two, so we drew tents and made ourselves as comfortable as possible. It did seem good to again be where we did not have to depend on our own resources, of stealing, for what we wanted to eat. To be able to draw form the commissary regular rations of meat, tea, coffee, sugar, baker's bread, and beans, was joy indeed, after what we had gone through, and we almost made hogs of ourselves. There was one thing-those few days of starvation taught us a lesson, and that was, when ordered on a trip with two day's rations, to take at least enough for six days, especially of coffee and salt pork or bacon. With coffee and a piece of old smoked bacon, a man can exist a long time. I remember after that trip, wherever I went, there was a chunk of bacon in one of my saddle-bags that nobody knew anything about, and many a time, on long marches, when hunger would have been experienced almost as severe as the time written last week, I would take out my chunk of bacon, cut off a piece and spread it on a hard-tack, and eat a meal that was more strengthening than any meal Delmonico ever spread.
"It was at this post that the boys in the regiment played a trick that
caused much fun throughout all the army. There were a few men in each company
who had the chills and fever, or ague, and the surgeon gave them each morning,
a dose of whiskey and quinine. It was interesting to see a dozen soldiers
go to the surgeon's call, take their 'bitters,' and return to their quarters.
The boys would go to the surgeon's tent sort of languid, and drag along,
and after swallowing a good dose of whiskey and quinine they would walk back
to their quarters swinging their arms like Pat Rooney on the stage, and act
as though they could whip their weight in wild cats. I got acquainted with
the hospital steward, and he said if the boys were not careful they would
all be down with the ague, and that an ounce of prevention was worth more
than a pound of cure. I thought I would take advantage of his advice, so I
fell in with the sick fellows the next morning, and when the doctor asked,
" 'What's the matter?' I said 'chills,' and he said, 'Take
a swallow out of the red bottle.'
" I took a swallow, and it was bitter, but it had whiskey in
it, more than quinine, and the idea of beating the government out of a drink
of whiskey was pleasure enough to overcome the bitter taste. I took a big
swallow, and before I got back to my quarters I had had a fight with the
mule-driver, and when the quartermaster inferred I had insulted him by telling
him I knew when he carried a hod, before the war, and I shouted,
'Mort, mort, mort!' until he was going to lather me with a mule
whip, but he couldn't catch me.
"As I run by the surgeon's tent, somebody remarked that I had experienced a remarkably sudden cure for chills. The whiskey was not real good, but as I had heard the hospital steward say they had just put in a requisition for two barrels of it, to be prepared for an epidemic of chills, I thought the boys ought to know it, so that day I went around to the different companies and told the boys how to play it for a drink. There are very few soldiers, in the best regiment, that will not take a drink of whiskey when far away from home, discouraged, and worn out by marching, and our fellows looked favorably upon the proposition to all turn out to surgeon's call the next morning. I shall never forget the look on the face of the good old surgeon, as the boys formed in line in front of his tent the next morning. The last time I saw him, he was in his coffin, about five years ago, at the soldier's home, and a few of the survivors of the regiment that lived here had gone out to the home to take a last look at him, and act as mourners at the funeral. He looked much older than when he used to ask us fellow the conumdrum, " 'What's the matter?' but there was that same look on his white, cold face that there was that morning that nearly the whole regiment reported for 'bitters.'
There must have been four hundred men in line, and it happened that
I was the first to be called. When he asked me about my condition, and
I told him of the chills, he studied a minute, then looked at me, and said,
" 'You are bilious. David, give him a dose of castor oil.'
I know I turned pale, for it was a great come down from quinine and
whiskey to castor oil, for a healthy man, and I kicked. I told him I had
the shakes awfully, and all I wanted was a quinine powder. I knew they had
put all their quinine into a barrel of whiskey, so I was safe in asking for
dry quinine. The good old gentleman finally relented on the castor oil,
and told David to give me a swallow of the quinine bitters, but there was
a twinkle in his eyes, as he noticed what a big swallow I took and then he
said,
" 'You will be well tomorrow; you needn't come again.' I dropped
out of the ranks, with my skin full of quinine and whiskey, and watched the
other fellows.
"There were men in the line who had never been sick a day since they enlisted, big fellows that would fight all day, and stand picket all night, and who never knew what it was to have an ache. And it was amusing to see them appear to shake, and act as though they had chills. Some of them could not keep from laughing, and it was evident that the doctor had his doubts about there being so many cases of chills, but he doses out the quinine and whiskey as long as there was a man who shook. As each man took his dose, he would show two expressions on his face. One was an expression of hilarity at putting himself outside of a good swig of whiskey, and the other was an expression of contempt for the bitter quinine, and an evident wish that the drug might be left out.
"When all had been served, they lingered around the surgeon's quarters, talking with each other and laughing, others formed on for a stag quadrille, and danced while a nigger fiddled. Some seemed to feel as though they wanted some one to knock a chip off their shoulders, old grudges were talked over, and several fights were prevented by the interference of friends who were jolly and happy, and did not believe in fighting for fun, when there was so much fighting to be done in the way of business.
"The old doctor walked up and down in front of his tent in a deep study.
He was evidently thinking over the epidemic of ague that had broken out in
a healthy regiment, and speculating as to its cause. Suddenly an idea seemed
to strike him, and he walked up to a crowd of his patients, who were watching
a couple of athletes, who had just taken their quinine, and who had put
on boxing gloves and were pasting each other in the nose.
" 'One moment’, said the old doctor. The boys stopped boxing,
and every last sick man listened respectfully to what the old doctor
said, 'Boys,' said he, 'you have got it on me this time. I don't
believe a confounded one of you has got ague at all. You shook me for the
whiskey. After this, quinine will be dealt out raw, without the whiskey,
and now you can shake all you please.' Someone proposed three cheers
for the boys that had made Uncle Sam stand treat, and the cheers were given,
and the boys separated to talk over the event. The next morning only the
usual number of sick were in attendance at surgeon's call. The healthy fellows
didn't want to take quinine raw.
"About this time an incident occurred that was fraught with great importance to the country and to me, though the histories of the war have been silent about it in their histories, whether through jealousy or something else I do not know, and modesty has prevented me from making any inquiries as to the cause. The incident alluded to was my appointment as corporal of my company. I say the incident was fraught with importance. I do not know the meaning of the word fraught, but it is frequently used in history in that connection, and I throw it in, believing that it is a pretty good word. The appointment came to me like a stroke of paralysis. I was not conscious that my career as a soldier had been such as to merit promotion. I could not recall any particular brilliant military achievement that would warrant my government selecting me from the ranks and conferring honors upon me, unless it was my lassoing that ram and dragging him into camp, when we were out of meat. But it was not my place to inquire into the cause that had led to my sudden promotion over the rank and file. I thought if I made too many inquiries it would be discovered that I was not such an allfired great soldier after all. If the government had somehow got the impression that I was well calculated to lead hosts to victory, and it was an erroneous impression, it was the governments' place to find it out without any help on my part. I would accept the position with a certain dignity, as though I knew that it was inevitable that I must sooner or later come to the front. So when the Captain informed me that he should appoint me Corporal, I told him I thanked him, and through him, the Nation, and would try and perform the duties of the exacting and important position to the best of my ability, and hoped that I might not do anything that would bring discredit upon our distracted country. He said that would be all right, that he had no doubt the country would pull through.
"That evening at dress parade the appointment was read, and I felt elated. I thought it singular that the regiment did not break out into cheers, and make the welkin ring, though they may not have had any welkin to ring. However, I thought it my duty to make a little speech, acknowledging the honor conferred upon me, as I had read that generals and colonels did when promoted. I took off my hat and said, 'Fellow soldiers.' That was the end of my speech, for the captain turned around and said to the orderly sergeant, 'Stop that red-headed cusses' mouth some way,' and the orderly told me to dry up. Everybody was laughing, I supposed at the captain. Anyway, I felt hurt, and when we got back to camp the boys of all the companies surrounded me to offer congratulations, and I was called on for a speech. Not being in the ranks, nobody could prevent me from speaking, so I got up on a barrel, and said:
" 'FELLOW SOLDIERS:-As I was about to remark, when interrupted by
the captain, on dress parade, this office has come to me entirely unsought
It has not been my wish to wear the gilded trappings of office and command
men, but rather to fight in the ranks, a private soldier. I enlisted as
a private, and my ambition has been to remain in the ranks to the end of the
war. But circumstances over which I have no control has taken me and placed
me on the high pinnacle of Corporal, and I must bow to the decree of fate.
Of course, in my position there must necessarily be a certain gulf between
us. I have noticed that there has been a gulf between me and the officers,
and I have thought it wrong. I have thought that privates and officers should
mingle together freely, and share each others' secrets, privations and rations.
But since being promoted I can readily see that such things cannot be.
The private has his position and the officer has his, and each must be separate.
It is not my intention to make any radical changes in the conduct of military
affairs at present, allowing things to go along as they have, but as soon
as I have a chance to look about me, certain changes will be made. All I
ask is that you, my fellow soldiers, shall stand by me, follow where I shall
lead and-------'
"At this point in my address the head of the barrel on which
I stood fell in with a dull thud, and I found myself up to the neck in corn-beef
brine. The boys set up a shout, some fellows kicked over the barrel, and
they began to roll it around the camp with me in it. This was a pretty position
for a man just promoted to the proud position of Corporal. As they rolled
me about and yelled like Indians, I could see that an official position
in that regiment was to be no sincere. All official positions have more
or less care and responsibility, but this one seemed to me to have too much.
Finally they spilled me out of the barrel, and I was a sight to behold.
My first idea was to order the whole two hundred fellows under arrest, and
have them court-martialed for conduct unbecoming soldiers; but on second thought
I concluded that would seem an arbitrary use of power, so I concluded to
laugh it off.
"One fellow said they begged pardon for any seeming disrespect to an
official; but it had always been customary in the regiment to initiate a
corporal who was new and too fresh with salt brine. I said that was all right,
and I invited them all up to the chaplain's tent to join me in a glass of
wine. The chaplain was away, and I knew he had received a keg of wine from
the sanitary commission that day, so we went up to his tent and drank it,
and everything passed off pleasantly until the chaplain happened in. The
boys dispersed as soon as he came, and left me to fight it out with the good
man. He was the maddest truly good man I have ever seen. I tried to explain
about my promotion, and it was customary to set 'em up for the boys, and
that there was no saloon near, and that he had always told me to help myself
to anything I wanted; but he wouldn't be calm at all. I tried to quote from
Paul's epistle about taking a little wine for the stomach-ache; but he just
raved around and called me names, until I had to tell him that if he kept
on I would, in my official capacity as corporal, place him under arrest.
That seemed to calm him a little, for he laughed, and finally he said I
smelled of stale corned-beef, and he kicked me out of his tent, and I retired
to my quarters to study over the mutability of human affairs, and the unpleasant
features of holding official position.
"That night I dreamed that General Grant and myself were running the
army in splendid shape, and that we were in receipt of constant congratulations
from a grateful country, for victories. He and I seemed to be great chums.
I dreamed of engagements with the enemy, in which I led men against fearful
odds, and always came out victorious. I woke up before daylight and was
wondering what dangerous duty I would be detailed to lead men upon, when
the orderly poked his head in my tent and told me I was detailed to take
ten picked men, at daylight, for hard service, and to report at once. I
felt that my time had come to achieve renown, and I dressed myself with unusual
care, putting on the blouse with two rows of buttons, which I had brought
from home. I borrowed a pair of Corporal's chevrons and sewed them to the
sleeves of my blouse, and was ready to die, if need be. I placed a Testament
I had brought form home, inside my blouse, in a breast pocket, as I had read
of many cases where a Testament had been struck with a bullet and saved a
soldier's life. I placed all my keepsakes in a package, and told my tent
mate that I was going out with ten picked men and it was possible I might
never show up again, and if I fell he was to send the articles to my family.
I wondered that I did not feel afraid to die. I was no professor of religion,
though I had always tried to do the square thing all around, but with no
consolation of religion at all, I felt a sweet peace that was indescribable.
If it was my fate to fall in defense of my country, at the head of ten picked
men, so be it. Somebody must die, and why not me. I was no better than
thousands of others, and while life was sweet to me, and I had anticipated
much pleasure in life, after the war, in shooting ducks and holding office,
I was willing to give up all hope of pleasure in the future, and die like
a thoroughbred. I was glad that I had been promoted, and wondered if they
would put 'Corporal' on my tombstone. I wondered, if I fell that day at
the head of my men, if the papers at the North, and particularly in Wisconsin,
would say ' The deceased had just been promoted, for gallant conduct,
to the position of Corporal, and it will be hard to fill his place.'
"With these thoughts I sadly reported to the orderly. The ten picked
men were in line. They were all six footer, four of then Irishmen, two Yankees,
two Germans, a Welshman and a Scotchman. The orderly gave me a paper, sealed
in an envelope. I turned to my men, and said,'Boys, whatever happens today,
I don't want to see any man show the white feather. The world will read
the account's of this day's work with feelings of awe, and the country will
care for those we leave behind.' We started off, and it occurred to
me to read my instructions. I opened the envelope with the air of a general
who was accustomed to receive important messages. I read it, and almost fainted.
It read: 'Report to the quartermaster, at the steamboat landing, to unload
quartermaster's stores from steamer Gazelle.' Ye Gods! And this was
the hard service that I was to lead ten picked men into. They had picked
out ten stevedores to carry sacks of corn, and hard-tack boxes, and barrels
of pork, and that was the action I was to engage in as my first duty as corporal.
I almost cried.
"We rode down to the landing, where a dozen teams were waiting to be
loaded. It was all I could do to break the news to my picked men that they
were expected to lug sacks of corn instead of fight, and when I did they kicked
at once. One of the Irishmen said he would be teetotally d---d if he enlisted
to carry corn for mules, and he would lay in the guard house till the war
was over before he would lift a sack. There was a strike on my hands to
start on. I was sorry that I had permitted myself to be promoted to Corporal.
Trouble from the outset. One of the Yankees suggested that we hold an indignation
meeting, so we rode up in front of the cotton warehouse and dismounted. The
Scotchman was appointed chairman, and for half an hour the ten picked men
discussed the indignity that was attempted to be heaped upon them, by compelling
them to do the work of niggers.
"They argued that a cavalry soldier's duty was exclusively to ride
on horseback, and that there was no power on earth to compel them to carry
sacks of corn. One of the Dutchmen said he could never look a soldier in
the face again after doing such menial duty, and he would not submit to it.
The Scotch chairman said if he had read the articles of war right there
was no clause that the cavalry man should leave his horse and carry corn.
I was called upon for my opinion, and said that I was a little green as
to the duties of a soldier, but supposed we had to do anything we were ordered
to do, but it seemed a little tough. I told them I didn't want any mutiny,
and it would be a plain case of mutiny if they refused to work. One of the
Irishmen asked if I would help carry sacks of corn, and I told him that as
commander of the expedition it would be plainly improper for me to descend
to a common day laborer. I held it to be the duty of a corporal to stand
around and see the men work. They all said that was too thin, and I would
have to peel off my coat and work if they did. I told them I couldn't lift
a sack of corn to save me, but they said if that was the case I ought not
to have come.
"The quartermaster was looking around for the detail that was to unload
the boat, and asked me if I had charge of the men detailed to unload. I
told him that I did have charge of them when we left camp, but they
had charge of me now, and said they wouldn't lift a pound. He thought a
minute and said, 'I don't like to see you boys carrying corn sacks, and
rolling pork barrels. Why don't you chip in and hire some niggers.'
The idea seemed inspired. There were plenty of niggers around that would
work for a little money. One of the Irishmen moved that the Corporal hire
ten niggers to unload the quartermasters stores, and the motion was carried
unanimously. I would have voted against it, but the Stochman, who was chairman,
ruled that I had no right to vote.
"So I went and found ten niggers that agreed to work for fifty cents
each, and they were set to work, the quartermaster promising not to tell
in camp about my hiring the work done. One of the Dutchmen moved that, insomuch
as we had nothing to do all day, that we take in the town, and play billiards,
and whoop it up until the boat was unloaded. That seemed a reasonable proposition,
and the motion carried, after an amendment had been added to the effect that
the Corporal stay on the boat and watch the niggers, and see that they didn't
shirk. So my first command, my ten picked men, rode off up town, and I set
on a wagon and watched my hired men.
"It was four o'clock in the afternoon before the stuff was all loaded,
and after paying the niggers five dollars out of my own pocket, some of my
bounty money, I went up to town to round up my picked men to take them back
to camp. I found the Scotchman pretty full of Scotch whiskey. He had found
a countryman who kept a tailor shop, who had a bag pipe, and they were having
a high time playing on the instrument, and singing Scotch songs. I got him
on his horse, and we looked for the rest. The two Germans were in a saloon
playing peenuckel, and singing German songs, and their skins were pretty
full of beer and cheese. They were got into the ranks, and we found the
Irishman playing forty-five in a saloon kept by a countryman of theirs, and
had a black eye and a scratch on his nose, and they were full of fighting
whiskey. The Yankees had swelled up on some kind of benzine and had hired
a hack and taken two women out riding, and when we rounded them up each one
had his feet out of the window of the hack, and they were enjoying themselves
immensely. The Welshman was the only one that was sober, but the boys said
there was not enough liquor in the South to get him drunk
"When I got them all mounted they looked as though they had been to
a banquet. We started for camp, but I did not want to take them in until
after dark, so we rode around the suburbs of the town until night drew her
sable mantle over the scene. They insisted on singing until within half
a mile of camp, and it would no doubt have been good music, only the Scotchman
insisted on singing 'The March of the Cameron Man,' while the Irishman
sung 'Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake,' and the German's sung '
Wacht am Rhine.' The Yankees sung the 'Star Spangled Banner,'
and the Welshman sung something in the Welsh language which was worse than
all. All the songs being sung together, of course I couldn't enjoy either
of them as well as a Corporal ought to enjoy the music of his command.
"Arriving near camp, the music was hushed, and we rode in, and up to
the captain's tent, where I reported that the corn was unloaded, all right.
He said that was all right. Everything would have passed off splendidly,
only one of the Irishman proposed 'three cheers for the dandy Corporal
of the regiment,'' and those inebriated, 'picked men', gave three
cheers that raised the roof of the colonel's tent near by, because I had
hired niggers to do the work, and let the men have a holiday. I dismissed
them as quick as I could, but the colonel sent for me, and I had to tell
him the whole story. He said I would demoralize the whole regiment in a
week more, and I had better let up or he would have to discipline me. I
offered to reign my commission as Corporal, but he said I better hold on
till we could have a fight, and may be I would get killed."
END PART FOURTEEN
Part Fifteen:Yearnings for Military Fame-What I Want is a Chance-I Feel I Could Crush the Rebellion-My Chance Arrives-I Am Crushed-The Rebellion Remains Pretty Well.