How Private George W. Peck Put Down The Rebellion Part 8

[Ill.u.s.tration: She gave him a piece of her mind 229]

The little woman, the rebel angel, got her back up at the coolness of the doctor; and she gave him a piece of her mind, and then he called for a candle, and he examined me carefully. When he got through, he said:

"He is going to have a run of fever. He must be sent to the hospital.

Jim, go tell the driver to send the ambulance here at once, and you, Jim, go along and see that this fellow gets to the hospital all right.

He can't live here in a tent, and I doubt if he will in the hospital."

That settled it. In a short time the ambulance came, and I got in and sat on a seat, and the rebel angel got in with me, and we rode seven miles to the hospital, over the roughest road a sick man ever jolted over, and I would have died, if I could have had my own way about it, but the little woman talked so cheerfully that when we arrived at the great building, I should have considered myself well, only that my mind was wandering. All I remember of my entrance to the hospital was that when we got out of the ambulance Jim was there on his horse, leading the mule belonging to the angel. Some attendants helped me up stairs, and down a corridor, where we met two stretchers being carried out to the dead house with bodies on them, and I had to sit in a chair and wait till clean sheets could be put on one of the cots where a man had just died. The little woman told me to keep up my courage, and she would come and see me often, Jim cried and said he would come everyday, a man said, "your bed is ready, No. 197," and I laid down as No. 197, and didn't care whether I ever got up again or not. I just had breath enough left to bid the angel good bye, and tell Jim to see her safe home. Jim said, "You bet your life I will," and the world seemed blotted out, and for all I cared, I was dead.

CHAPTER XVI.

My Varied Experiences in the Hospital--The Doctor Seems Sure of My Death--I Suggest the Postponement of My Funeral--I Get Very Sick of Gruel--I Go Back to my Regiment.

Let's see, last week I wound up in the hospital. When Jim, my old comrade, and the rebel angel, left me, I to all intents and purposes. I supposed I was going to sleep, but after I got well enough to know what was going on, I found that for about ten days I had been out of my head. It was not much of a head to get out of, but however small and insignificant a man's head is, he had rather have it with him, keeping good time, than to have it wandering around out of his reach. When I "come to," as the saying is, it only seemed as though I had been asleep over night, but I dreamed more than any able-bodied man could have done in one night. I was what they call un-. conscious, but I did a great deal of work during that period of unconsciousness. One thing I did, which I was proud of, was to wind up the war. I arranged it so that all of the bullets that were fired on each side, were made of India-rubber, like those little toy balloons, and war was just fun. The boys on both sides would fire at each other and watch the rubber balloons. .h.i.t the mark, and explode, and n.o.body was hurt, and everybody laughed. There was no more blood. Everything was rubber and wind. There was no one killed, no legs shot off, and the men on each side; when not fighting with the harmless missiles, were gathered together, blue and gray, having a regular picnic, and every evening there was a dance, the rebels furnis.h.i.+ng the girls. In my delirium I could see that my rebel angel was dancing a good deal with the boys, and frequently with my comrade, Jim, and I was pretty jealous. I made up my mind that I wouldn't speak to either of them again. I would watch my balloon battles with a good deal of interest, and think how much better and safer it was to fight that way. Every day, when the battle was over, and the two sides would get together for fun, I noticed when the bugle sounded for battle again, that on each side the boys were terribly mixed, there being about as many blue-coated Yankees among the gray rebels as there were rebels among the Yankees, and after awhile it seemed as though all were dressed alike, in a sort of "blue-gray," and then they disappeared, and I recovered my senses. Frequently, during my delerium and unconsciousness, I would feel my mouth pulled open, and hear a spoon c.h.i.n.k against my teeth, and I would taste something bad going down my neck, and then my head would buzz as though a swarm of bees had taken up their abode where my brain used to be. Sometimes I would hear the clanking of a saber and a pair of Mexican spurs, and feel a great big hand on my head, and I knew that was Jim, but I couldn't move a muscle, or say a word. "I guess he's dead, ain't he doc?" I would hear in Jim's voice, and the doc would say there was a little life left, but not enough, to swear by. Then the doc would say, "You better come in about 10:30 tomorrow, as we bury them all at that hour, and I guess he'll croak by that time." I tried to speak and tell them that I was alive, and that I was going to get well, but it, wasn't any use. I was tongue-tied. Again I would hear the sweet rustle of a dress, and feel a warm hand on my head, and I knew that the rebel angel had rode her mule to town to see me. Then I would try hard to tell her that I was going to write a letter to the governor of Wisconsin, and ask him to look out particularly for her brother, who was a rebel prisoner at Madison, and take care of him if he was sick, but I couldn't say a word, and after smoothing my hair a little while, she would give my cheek three or four pats, just as a mother pats her child, and she would go away.

One morning, a little after daylight, I woke up and looked around the ward of the hospital. My eyes were weak, and I was hungry as a bear. I had to try two or three times before I could raise my hand to my head, and when I felt of my head it seemed awfully small. I could feel my cheek bones stick out so that you could hang your hat on them. My cheeks were sunken, and my fingers were like pipe-stems. I wondered how a man could change so in one night. I saw two or three fellows over at the other end of the room, and I thought I would get up and go over there and have some fun with them. I wanted to know where my horse was, and where I was. I tried to raise up and couldn't get any further than on my elbow. From that position I looked around to see what was going on, and tried to attract the attention of some attendant. Finally, I saw four fellows bringing a stretcher along towards my cot. They had evidently been told by the doctor that I would be dead in the morning, and having confidence in the word of the professional man, had come to take me to the dead house, before the other sick man was awake. As they came up to the foot of my cot and sat the stretcher down, I thought I would play a joke on them. I pulled the sheet over my face, and laid still. One of the men said, "Two of us can lift it, as it is thinner than a lathe." To be considered dead, when I was alive, was bad enough, but to be called "it" was too much. I felt one of the men take hold of my feet, and then I threw the sheet off my face and in a hoa.r.s.e voice I said, "Say, Mr.

Body-snotcher, you can postpone the funeral and bring me a porter-house steak and some fried potatoes." Well, n.o.body ever saw a couple of men fall over themselves and turn pale, as those fellows did. Before I had given my order for breakfast, the two men had fallen back over the stretcher and the two others were backing on as though a ghost had appeared. But finally they came toward me and I convinced them that I was not dead. They seemed hurt to know that I was still alive, and one of them went off after the doctor, to enter a complaint, I supposed.

The doctor soon came and he was the only one that seemed pleased at my recovery. He ordered some sort of gruel for me, but wouldn't let me have meat and things. I took the gruel under protest but it did strengthen me. I told the doctor I wanted him to send for my horse, because I wanted to go out with the boys, but he said he guessed I wouldn't go out with the boys very soon. He said I might sit up in bed a little while, and when I did so I found that I did not have my clothes on, but was clothed in a hospital night-gown, which was also used for a shroud for burial when a fellow died. He said Jim and the girl would be in about 10 o clock, as he had sent for them, and some of my comrades. I told him if I was going to entertain company, and give a reception, I wanted my pants on, as I was sure no gentleman could give a reception successfully without pants. The doctor seemed sort of glad to see me taking an interest in human affairs again, and so he let me put my pants and jacket on. I got a butcher to shave me, and when ten o clock came I looked quite presentable for a skeleton. I was sitting up in bed, with a little round zinc frame looking-gla.s.s, noting the changes in my personal appearance, when a door opened and Jim entered, dressed up in his best, with the rebel angel on his arm, and followed by six boys from the regiment. They came in as solemn as any party I ever saw. The angel looked as sad as I ever saw anybody, and I thought she had probably heard that her brother was dead. It did not occur to me that they had come to attend my funeral. They stood there by the door, in that helpless manner that people always stand around at a funeral, waiting for the master of ceremonies to tell them that they can now pa.s.s in the other room and view the remains. I finally caught Jim looking my way, and I waved a handkerchief at him. He gave me one look, and jumped over two cots and came up to me with tears in his eyes, and a package in his hand, and said, "Pard, you ain't dead worth a cent," and then he hugged me, and added, "but there ain't enough left of you for a full size funeral." Then he unrolled the package he had in his hand, and dropped on the bed four silver-plated coffin handles. By that time the girl, and the six boys had seen me, and they came over, and we had a regular visit. They were all surprised to find me alive, as they had been notified that I was on my last legs, and would be buried in the morning, and the captain had detailed the six boys to act as pall-bearers and fire a salute over the grave, while Jim and the girl were to act as mourners.

"Well, it saves ammunition," said Jim. "But how be I going to get these coffin handles off my hands. There is no dependence to be placed on doctors, anyway. When that doctor appointed this funeral, we thought he knew his business, and I told the angel, say I, 'My pard ain't going to be buried without any style, in one of those pine boxes that ain't planed, and has got slivers on.' So I hired the hospital coffin-maker to sand-paper the inside and outside of a box, and black it with shoe-blacking, and I went to a store down town and bought these handles.

Of course, pard, I am glad you pulled through, and all that, but I want to say to you, if you had croaked in the night, and been ready to bury this A. m., you would have had a more stylish outfit than anybody, except officers, usually get in this army, and the angel and I would have been a pair of mourners that would have slung grief so your folks to home would have felt proud of you."

The angel was tickled to see me alive, and suggested to Jim and the boys, that it was easy to talk a fellow to death after he had been so sick, and told them to go back to camp, and she would stay with me all day. So the boys shook hands with me, and Jim had an attendant to roll my cot up to a window, so I could see my horse when they rode away. The boys got on their horses and Jim led my horse, and I could see that my pet had been fixed up for the occasion. He had the saddle on, and it was draped with black, a pair of boots were fastened in the stirrups, and my carbine was in the socket. The idea was to have my horse, with empty boot and saddle tied behind the wagon that took me to the cemetery where soldiers wind up their career. It was not a cheerful thing to look at, and to think of, but it did me good to see the old horse, and the boys ride away in good health, and happy at my escape, and it encouraged me to make every effort to get well, so I could ride with the gang. The rebel angel re-mained with me till almost night, and superintended my eating. No person who has never had a fever, can appreciate the appet.i.te of a person when the fever "turns." I wanted everything that was ever eaten, and roast beef or turkey was constantly in my mind. As anything of that kind would have made use for Jim's coffin-handles, I had to put up with soups and gruels. The doctor thought that this thin gruel was good enough, but it didn't seem to hit the spot, and so the girl asked the doctor if he thought nice gumbo soup and a weak milk punch wouldn't be pretty good for me. He said it would, but n.o.body in the hospital could make gumbo soup, or milk punch. She said she could, and she told me not to eat a thing until she came back, and she would bring me a dish fit for the G.o.ds. She said she knew an old colored woman in town, who cooked for a lady friend of hers, who had some gumbo, and the lady had a little brandy that was seventy years old, but she said the lady was a rebel, and I must overlook that. I told her I didn't care, as I had got considerably mashed on all the rebels I had met personally. She went out with a smile that would have knocked a stronger man than I was silly, and I turned over and took a nap, the first real sleep I had had in a week. I woke up finally smelling something that was not gruel. O, I had got so sick of gruel. The angel handed me a gla.s.s of milk punch, and told me to drink a swallow and a half. I have drank a great many beverages in my lifetime, but I never swallowed anything that was as good as the milk punch that rebel girl made for me. It seemed to go clear to my toes, and I felt strong. Then she gave me a small soup plate and told me to taste of the gumbo. I had never tasted gumbo soup before, but I had no difficulty in mastering it. No description can do gumbo soup justice, or explain to a person who has never tasted it the rich odor, and palatable taste. The little that I ate seemed to make a man of me again, instead of the weak invalid. Since then I have been loyal to southern gumbo soup, and have always eaten it wherever it could be obtained, and I never put a spoonful of it to my lips without thinking of the rebel girl in the hospital, who prepared that dish for me. If I ever become a glutton, it will be on gumbo soup, and if I am ever a drunkard, it will be a milk-punch drunkard, and the soup and the punch must be prepared in the South.

Well, my experience after that, in the hospital, was about the same as a hundred thousand other boys in blue, only few of the boys had such care, and such food. The girl kept me supplied with gumbo soup and milk punch until I could eat heartier food, and in a couple of days I got so I could walk around the hospital. At home I had never been much of a hand to be around with the sick, but experience had been a good teacher, and I found that going around among the boys, and talking cheerfully did them good and me too. I found men from my own regiment, that I did not know had been sick. The custom was to make just as little show about sending sick men to the hospital, as possible, hence they were often packed off in the night, and the first their comrades would know of their illness would be a detail to bury them, or a boy would suddenly appear in his company, looking pale and sick, having been discharged from the hospital. If the men had known how many of their comrades were sent to the hospital, it would have demoralized the well ones. For ten days I visited around among the sick men, telling a funny story to a group here and and cheering them up, and writing letters home for fellows that were too weak to write. I learned to lie a little bit in writing letters for the boys. One young fellow who had his leg taken off, wanted me to write to his intended, and tell her all about it, how the leg was taken off, and how he was sick and discouraged, and would always be a cripple and a burden on his friends, etc. I wrote the letter entirely different from the way he told me. I spoke of his being wounded in the leg but that the care he received had made him all right, and that he would probably soon have a discharge, and be home, and make them all happy. I thought to myself that if she loved him as a girl ought to, that a leg or two short wouldn't make any difference to her, and there was no use of harrowing up her feelings in advance, and that he could buy a cork leg before he got home, and may be she would never find it out. I might have been wrong, but when he got an answer from that letter he was the happiest fellow I ever saw in this world, and he arranged at my suggestion, to stop over in New York and get a cork leg before he went home. I have never learned whether the girl ever found out that he had a cork leg, but if she did, and blames anybody, she can lay it to me. Lots of the boys that wrote letters for wanted to detail all of their calamities to their mothers and sisters and sweet-hearts, but I worded the letters in a funny sort of way, so that the friends at home would not be worried, and the answers the boys got would please them very much. The hardest work I had was a couple of days writing letters for a doctor, to relatives of boys who had died, detailing the sickness, death and burial, and notifying friends that they could obtain the personal effects of the deceased, clothing, money, pipes, knives, etc., by sending express charges. It always seemed to me that if I had been running the government I would have paid the express charges on the clothing of the boys who had died, if I didn't lay up a cent. Finally I got well enough to go back to my regiment, and one day I showed up at my company, and the first man I met saluted me and said, "h.e.l.lo, Lieutenant." I told him he did wrong to joke a sick man that way, and I went on to find Jim. He was in our tent, greasing his shoes, and he looked up with a queer expression on his face and said, "h.e.l.lo, Lieutenant."

"Look a here." I said, as I grasped his greasy hand, "what do you fellows mean by calling me names, I have never done anything to deserve to be made a fool of. Pard, what ails you anyway?"

"Didn't they tell you," said Jim, as he sc.r.a.ped the mud on his other shoe with a stick. "The colonel has sent your name to the governor of Wisconsin to be commissioned as second Lieutenant of the company. All the boys are tickled to death, and they are going to whoop it up for you when your commission comes. But this pup tent will not be good enough for you then, and old Jim will have to pick up another pard. You won't have to cook your bacon on a stick when you get your commsssion, and you can drink out of a leather covered flask instead of a flannel covered canteen. But by the great horn spoons I shall love you if you get to be a Jigadier Brindle," and the old pard looked as though he wanted to cry like a baby.

"Jim," I said, "I think the fellows are giving us taffy, and that there is nothing in this Lieutenant business. But if there is, you will be my pard till this cruel war is over, and don't you forget it," and I went along the company street towards the colonel's tent, leaning on a cane, and all the boys congratulated me, and I felt like a fool.

"Lieutenant, I am glad to see you back," said the Colonel, as I entered his tent, and he showed it in his face. "What is the foolishness, colonel? I asked. The boys are all guying me. Can't I stay a private?"

CHAPTER XVII.

Thanksgiving Dinner with the "Rebel Angel"--She Gives Me a World of Good Advice--Can an Officer be Detailed To Go And Shovel Dirt?--My First Day As A Commissioned Officer.

The last chapter of this history wound up in my interview with the colonel, in which he told me that what the boys had said was true, and that I had a right to to be called "Lieutenant." He said there was a vacancy in the commissioned officers of my company, caused, by some discrepancy in regard to the owners.h.i.+p of a horse which an officer had sold as belonging to him, when investigation showed that there was "U. S." branded on the horse. The colonel said he had looked over the company pretty thoroughly, and while I was not all that he could desire in an officer, there were less objections to me than to many others, and he had recommended the governor of our state to commission me. He said he didn't want me to run away with the idea that my promotion from private to a commissioned office was for any particular gallantry, or that I was particularly ent.i.tled to promotion, but I seemed the most available. It was true, he said, that I had done everything I had been told to do, in a cheerful manner, and had not displayed any cowardice, that he knew of, though I had often admitted to him that I was a coward.

He said he thought few men knew whether they were cowards or not, until they got in a tight place, and that most men honestly believed they were cowards, but they didn't want others to know it, and they took pains to conceal the fact. He said he had rather be considered a coward than a dare-devil of bravery, for if he flunked when a chance come to show his metal, it wouldn't be thought much of, and if he pulled through, and made a decent record for bravery, he would get a heap of credit. He said he believed it took a man with more nerve to do some things he had ordered me to do, than it did to get behind a tree and shoot at the enemy, and he was willing to take his chances on me. He congratulated me, and some of the other officers did the same.

I was invited to sit into a game of draw poker with some of the officers. I pleaded that I was not sufficiently recovered from my sickness to play poker, and I went back to my tent to talk with Jim. I was thinking over the new responsibilities that were about to come to me, and figuring on the salary. A hundred and fifty dollars a month!

It is cruel to raise the salary of a poor devil from thirteen dollars a month to a hundred and fifty. I wondered how in the world the government was ever going to get that much out of me. Certainly I couldn't do any more than I had been doing towards crus.h.i.+ng the rebellion for thirteen dollars. And what would I do with so much money? In my wildest dreams of promotion I had never hoped to be a commissioned officer. I had thought sometimes, a week or two after I enlisted, that if I was a general I could put down the rebellion so quick the government would have lots of nations left on its hands to spoil, but a few months active service had taken all that sort of nonsense out of me, and I had been contented as a private. But here I was jumped over everybody, and made an officer unbeknown to me, It made me dizzy. I was not very strong anyway, and this thing had come upon me suddenly I was thinking of the magnificent uniform I would have, and the fancy saddle and bridle, and the regular officer's tent, with bottles of whiskey and gla.s.ses, when Jim asked me if I wouldn't just hold that frying-pan of bacon over the fire, while he cooked some coffee. He said we would just eat a little to settle our stomachs, and then go out to Thanksgiving dinner.

"Thanksgiving dinner," I said. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't you know," said Jim, "to-day is Thanksgiving? The 'angel' told me last night to bring you out to the plantation to-day, and I was going after you at the hospital if you hadn't showed up. She has received a letter from her brother, who is a rebel prisoner at Madison, and he says a Yankee hotel-keeper at Madison, that you had written to, had called at the pen where they were kept, and had brought him a lot of turkey and fixings, and offered to send him a lot for Thanksgiving, so the rebel boys could have a big feed, and he says he is well and happy, and going to be exchanged soon. And she wants us to come out and eat turkey and 'possum. I had rather eat gray tom-cat than possum, but I told her we would come. So we will eat a little bacon and bread, and ride out."

"Well, all right Jim," I said. "We will go, but in my weak state I can't be expected to eat possum. If there is anything of that kind to be eat, Jim, you will have to eat it. However, I will do anything the rebel angel asks me to do," I added, remembering her kindness to me when I was sick.

The ride to the plantation, after several weeks confinement, was better than medicine, and I enjoyed every step my proud horse took. The animal acted as though he had been told of my promotion, but it was plain to me that he acted proud, because he had been resting during my sickness. It was all I could do to keep Jim alongside of me. He would fall back every little while and try to act like an orderly riding behind an officer.

I had to discipline him before he would come up alongside like a "partner." I mention this Thanksgiving dinner in the army, in order to bring in a little advice the rebel girl gave me, which I shall always remember. We arrived at the old plantation house where the girl and her mother and some servants were living, waiting for the war to close, so the men folks could come back. The old lady welcomed us cordially, the girl warmly and the servants effusively. The dinner was good, though not elaborate, except the possum. That was elaborate, and next to gumbo soup, the finest dish I ever tasted. After we had got seated at the table, the old lady asked a blessing, and it was more like a prayer.

She asked for a blessing upon all of the men in both armies, and made us feel as though there was no bitterness in her heart towards the enemies of her people. During the dinner Jim told of my promotion, and the circ.u.mstance was commented on by all, and after dinner the rebel angel took me one side, and said she had got a few words of advice to give me.

She commenced by saying:

"Now that you are to be a commissioned officer, don't get the big head.

During this war, we have had soldiers near us all the time, and I have seen some splendid soldiers spoiled by being commsssioned. Nine out of ten men that have received commissions in this locality, have been spoiled. I am a few years older than you, and have seen much of the world. You are a kind hearted man, and desire to treat everybody well, whether rich or poor, yankee or confederate. If you let this commission spoil you, you are not worthy of it. You will naturally feel as though you should a.s.sociate with officers entirely, but you will find in them no better companions than you have found in the private soldiers, and I doubt if you will find as true friends. Do not, under any circ.u.mstances, draw away from your old friends, and let a barrier raise up between you and them. My observation teaches me that the only difference between the officers and men in the Union army, is that officers get more pay for doing less duty; they become dissipated and fast because they can better afford it, they drink more, put on style, play cards for money, and think the world revolves around them, and that they are indispensible to success, and yet when they die, or are discharged for cause, private soldiers take their place and become better officers than they did, until they in turn become spoiled. I can think of no position better calculated to ruin a young man than to commission him in a cavalry regiment. Now take my advice. Do not run in debt for a new uniform and a silver mounted sword, and don't put a stock of whisky and cigars into your tent, and keep open house, because when your whisky and cigars are gone, those who drank and smoked them will not think as much of you as before, and you will have formed habits that will illy prepare you for your work. You will not make any friends among good officers, and you will lose the respect of the men who have known you when you were one of them, but who will laugh at you for getting the big head and going back on those who are just as good as you are, but who have not yet attained the dignity of wearing shoulder straps. I meet officers every day, who were good soldiers before they were raised from privates, and they show signs of dissipation, and have a hard look, leering at women, and trying to look _blase_. They try to act as near like foreign n.o.blemen who are officers, as they can, from reading of their antics, but Americans just from farms, workshops, commercial pursuits, and the back woods and country villages of the north, are not of the material that foreign officials are made of, and in trying to imitate them they only show their shallowness. Do not, I beg of you, change one particle from what you have been as a private soldier, unless it is to have your pants fit better, and wear a collar. Of course, you will be thrown among officers more than you have before. Imitate their better qualities, and do not compete with them in vices. Always remember that when a volunteer army is mustered out, all are alike. The private, who has business ability, will become rich and respected, after the war, while the officer, who has been promoted through favoritism, and who acquires bad habits, will keep going down hill, and will be glad to drive a delivery wagon for the successful private, whom he commanded and snubbed when he held a proud position and got the big head. Now, my convalescent red-headed yankee, you have the best advice, I know how to give a young man who has struck a streak of luck. Go back to your friends, and may G.o.d bless you."

Well, I had never had any such advice as that before, and as Jim and me rode back to camp that Thanksgiving evening, her words seemed to burn into my alleged brain. I could see how easy it would be for a fellow to make a spectacle of himself. What did a commission amount to, anyway, that a fellow should feel above anybody. When we arrived in camp, and went into our tent to have a smoke, the chaplain came in. I had not seen much of him lately. When I was sick I felt the need of a chaplain considerably. Not that I cared particularly to have him come and set up a howl over me, as though I was going to die, and he was expected to steer me the right way. But I felt as though it was his duty to look after the boys when they were sick, and talk to them about something cheerful. But he did not show up when I needed him, and when he called at our tent after I was well, there wasn't that cordiality on my part that there ought to have been. He had a package which he unrolled, after congratulating me on my recovery, and it proved to be a new saber, with silver mounted scabbard and gold sword handle. The chaplain said he had heard that I was to be commissioned, and he had found that saber at a store down town, and thought I might want to buy it. He said of course I would not want to wear a common government saber, as it would look too rude..He said he could get that saber for forty dollars, dirt cheap, and I could pay for it when I got my first pay as an officer. I could see through the chaplain in a minute. He had thought I would jump at the chance to put on style, and that he could make ten or fifteen dollars selling me a gilt-edged saber. I thanked him warmly, and a little sarcastically, for his great interest in the welfare of my soul, in sickness and in health, but told him that I was going to try and pull through with a common private's saber. I told him that the few people I should kill with a saber, would enjoy it just as well to be run through with a common saber. My only object was to help put down the rebellion, and I could do it with ordinary plain cutlery, as well as silver-mounted trappings. I said that to smear a silver-mounted saber all over with gore, would spoil the looks of it. The chaplain went out, when a drummer for a tailor shop came in with some samples, and wanted to make up a new uniform for me, regardless of expense. I stood him off, and went to bed, tired, and thought I had rather be a private than a general. The next morning it was my turn to cook our breakfast, and I turned out and built a fire, cut off some salt pork, and was frying it, when the orderly sergeant came along and detailed Jim and me, with ten or a dozen others to go to work on the fortifications. The rebels-were preparing to attack our position, and the commanding officer had deemed it advisable to throw up some earthworks. I told the orderly that he couldn't detail me to work with a shovel, digging trenches, when I was an officer, but he said he could, until I received my commission and was mustered in. I left my cooking and went to the colonel's tent. He was just rolling out of his bunk, and I said:

"How is it, Colonel? Can an officer be detailed to go and shovel dirt? I have been detailed by the orderly, with a lot of privates, to report to the engineer, to throw up fortifications. That does not strike me as proper work for a commissioned officer."

"You will have to go," said the colonel, as he stood on one leg while he tried to la.s.so his other foot with a pants leg. "It may be three months before your commission will arrive, and then you will have to go to New Orleans to be mustered out as a private and mustered in as an officer.

Until that time you will have to do duty as a private."

"Then what the devil did you say anything about my being commissioned for, until the commission got here," said I, and I went back and finished cooking breakfast for myself and Jim.

Our detail went down to the river, at the left of the line, and reported to the engineer, and were set to work cutting down trees, throwing up dirt, and doing about the dirtiest and hardest work that I had ever done. As a private I could have done anything that was asked of me, but the thought of doing such work, while all the boys were calling me "Lieutenant," was too much. I never was so crushed in my life. How glad I was that I did not buy that gilt-edged saber of the chaplain. We had to wear our side arms while at work, fearing an attack at any minute, and I thought how ridiculous I would have looked with that silver-mounted saber hanging to me, while I was handling a shovel like a railroad laborer. If that detail was made to humiliate me, and reduce my proud flesh, that had appeared on me by my sudden promotion, it had the desired effect, for before night I was as humble an amateur officer as ever lived. I had chopped down trees until my hands were blistered, and had shoveled dirt until my back was broke, and at night returned to my tent too tired to eat supper, and went to bed too weary and disgusted to sleep. And that was my first day as a commissioned officer.

CHAPTER XVIII.

My Sickness and Hospital Experiences Have Spoiled Me for a Soldier--I Am Full of Charity, and Hope the War Will Cease-- We Have a Grand Attack--The Battle Lasted Ten Minutes--The Rebel Angel's Brother is Captured.

I became satisfied, more each day, that my sickness, and experience in the hospital, had spoiled me for a soldier. Being attended to so kindly by a rebel girl and getting acquainted with her people, and hearing her mother pray earnestly that the bloodshed might cease, sort of knocked what little fight there was in me, out, and I didn't hanker any more for blood. It seemed to me as though I could meet any rebel on top of earth, and shake hands with him, and ask him to share my tent, and help eat my rations.

The fact of being promoted to a commissioned office, didn't make me feel half as good as I thought it was going to, and I found myself wis.h.i.+ng I could be a he sister of charity, or something that did not have to shoot a gun, or go into any fight. I got so I didn't care whether my commission ever arrived or not. The idea of respectable men going out to hunt each other, like game, became ridiculous to me, and I wondered why the statesmen of the North and South did not get together and agree on some sort of a compromise, and have the fighting stop. I would have agreed to anything, only, of course, whatever arrangement was made, it must be understood that the South had no right to secede. Then I would think, Why, that is all the South is fighting for, and if they concede that they are wrong it is the same as though they were whipped, and of course they could not agree to that. I tried to think out lots of ways to wind the business up without fighting any more, but all the plans I made, maintained that our side was right, and I concluded to give up worrying about it. But I made up my mind that I would not fight any more. I was still weak from sickness, and there was no fight in me. I thought this over a good deal, and concluded that if I was called upon to go into another fight, where there was any chance of anybody being killed, I would just have a relapse, and go to the hospital again till it was over. I had heard of fellows being taken suddenly ill when a fight was in prospect, and I knew they were always laughed at, but I made up my mind that I had rather be laughed at than to hurt anybody.

There was no thought of sneaking out of a fight because of the danger of being killed myself, but I just didn't want to shoot any friends of that girl who had nursed me when I was sick. These thoughts kept coming to me for a week or more, and one evening it was rumored around that we were liable to be attacked the next day. Some of our regiments had been out all day, and they reported the enemy marching on our position, in force.

The rebels that lived in town could not conceal their joy at the idea that we were to be cleaned out. They would hint that there were enough Confederates concentrating at that point to drive every Yankee into the river, and they were actually preparing bandages and lint, to take care of the Confederates who might be wounded. If we had taken their word for it there wouldn't be a Yankee left in town, when the Confederate boys begun to get in their work. I went to bed that night resolved that I should not be so well in the morning, and would go to surgeon's call, and be sent to the hospital. But I didn't like the way those rebels talked about the coming fight. Egad, if they were so sure our fellows were going to be whipped, may be I would stay and see about it. If they thought any of our fellows were going to slink out, when they made their brags about whipping us, they would find their mistake. However, if I didn't feel very well in the morning, I would go to surgeon's call, but I wouldn't go to the hospital. In the meantime, I would just see if I had cartridges enough for much of a row, and rub up the old carbine a little, for luck. Not that. I wanted to shoot anybody dead, but I could shoot their horses, and make the blasted rebels walk, anyway. And so all that evening I was part of the time trying to see my way clear to get out of a regular fight, where anybody would be liable to get hurt, and again I was wondering if my sickness had injured my eyesight so I couldn't take good aim at the b.u.t.tons on a rebel's coat. I was about half and half. If the rebels would let us alone, and not bring on a disturbance, I was for peace at any price, but gol-blast them, if they come fooling around trying to scare anybody, I wouldn't go to a hospital, not much. I talked with Jim about it, and he felt about as I did. He didn't want any more fighting, and while he couldn't go to the hospital, he was going to try and get detailed to drive a six mule team for the quartermaster, but he cleaned up his gun all the same, and looked over his cartridges to see if they were all right. We got up next morning, got our breakfast, and Jim asked me if I was going to the hospital and I told him I would wait till afternoon. I asked him if he was going to drive mules, and he said not a condemned mule, not until the fight was over. There was a good deal of riding around, orderlies, staff officers, etc. Artillery was moving around, and about eight o clock some of our boys who had been on picket all night, came in looking tired and nervous, saying they had been shot at all night, and that the rebels had got artillery and infantry till you couldn't rest, and they would make it mighty warm for us before night. Orders come to each company, that no soldier was to leave camp under any circ.u.mstances, to go to town or anywhere. I told Jim if he was going to drive mules, he better be seeing the quartermaster sergeant, but he said he never was much gone on mule driving, anyhow. But he said if he looked as sick as I did he would go to the hospital too quick. I told him there wasn't anything the matter with me. Pretty soon, over to the right, near the river, there was a cannon discharged. It was not long before another went off around to the left, and then a dozen, twenty, a hundred, all along the line. They were rebel cannon, and pretty soon they were answered by our batteries. Then there was a rattling of infantry, and the noise was deafening. I expected at the first fire that our bugler would come out in front of headquarters and blow for heaven's sake, for us to saddle up, but for three hours we loafed around camp and no move was made. It was tiresome. We started to play cards several times, but n.o.body could remember what was trumps, and we gave that up. Some of our boys would sneak up on to a hill for a few minutes, against orders, and come back and say that they could see the fight, and it was which and tother. Then a few more would sneak off, and after awhile the whole regiment was up on the hill, looking off to the hills and valleys, watching rebel sh.e.l.ls strike our earth works and throw up the dust, and watching our sh.e.l.ls go over to the woods where the rebels were. Then I found myself hoping our sh.e.l.ls were just paralyzing the Johnnies.

Presently the ambulances began to come by us, loaded with wounded, and that settled it. When there was no fighting, and I was half sick, and felt under obligations to a Confederate girl for taking care of me, I didn't want any of her friends hurt, but when her friends forgot them-selves, and come to a peaceable place, and began to kill off our boys, friends.h.i.+p ceased, and I wondered why we didn't get orders to saddle up and go in. We were all on the hill watching things, when the colonel, who had been riding off somewhere, came along. We thought he would order us all under arrest for disobeying orders, but he rode up to us, and pointing to a place off to the right a mile or so, where there was a sharp infantry fight, he said, "Boys, we shall probably go in right there about 3 p.m., unless the rebels are reinforced," and he rode down to his tent. Well, after about twenty ambulances had gone by us with wounded soldiers, we didn't care how soon we went in there. We watched the infantry and artillery for another hour, as pretty a sight as one often sees. It was so far away we could not see men fall, and it was more like a celebration, until one got near enough to see the dead.

Presently the regimental bugle sounded "Boots and saddles," and in a minute every man on the hill had rushed down to his tent, even before the notes had died away from the bugle. Nothing was out of place. Every soldier had known that the bugle _would_ sound sooner or later, and we had everything ready. It did not seem five minutes before every company was mounted, in its street, waiting for orders. Jim leaned over towards me and said, "Hospital?" and I answered, "Not if I know myself," and I patted my carbine on the stock. I said to him, "Six mule team?" and he whispered back, "Nary six mule team for the old man." Then the bugle sounded the "a.s.sembly," and each company rode up on to the hill and formed in regimental front facing the battle. Every eye was on the place where the colonel had said we would probably "go in." There never was a more beautiful sight, and every man in the cavalry regiment looked at it till his eyes ached. Then came an order to dismount and every man was ordered to tighten up his saddle girth as tight as the horse would bear it, and be sure his stirrup straps were too short rather than too long.

To a cavalry man these orders mean business.

Then we mounted again, and a few noticed a flag off to the right signaling. The colonel noticed it and coolly gave the order, "fours right, march." We went off towards the fighting, then right down by our own cannon and formed in line behind the infantry, that was at work with the enemy, the artillery firing over our heads at the confederates in the woods. The noise was so loud that one could not hear his neighbor speak; but above it all came a buggle note, and glancing to the left, another cavalry regiment, and another, formed on our left. Another bugle note, and to the right another cavalry regiment formed, and for half a mile there was a line of hors.e.m.e.n, deafened by the waiting the command of some man, through a bugle. If the rebels had time to notice those four regiments of cavalry, fresh and ready for a gallop, they must have known that it was a good time to get away. Finally, our artillery ceased firing and it seemed still as death, except for the rattling of infantry in front of us. The rebel artillery had ceased firing also, and a great dust beyond the woods showed that they were getting away. The bugle sounded "forward" and that line of cavalry started on a walk. The infantry in front ceased firing, and went to the right of us at a double-quick, and the field was clear of our men. While our cavalry was walking, they kept a pretty good line, each man glancing to the right for a guide. As we neared the place where our infantry had been stationed, it was necessary to break up a little to pa.s.s dead and wounded without riding over them, and when falling back to keep from hurting a wounded comrade, a look at the line up and down showed that it was almost a mob, with no shape, but after get-ing forty rods, we pa.s.sed the field where men had fallen, and the order to "close up, guide right," was given, and in an instant the line was perfect. Then came the order to trot, and we went a short distance, until the rebels could be plainly seen behind trees, logs, and in line, firing. We halted and fired a few rounds from carbines, and then dropped the carbines, on orders. For a moment nothing was done, when officers ordered every man to draw his revolver, and when the six charges had been fired, after near-ing the enemy, to drop the revolver in the holster, and draw sabers, and every man for himself, but to rally on the colors, at the sound of the bugle, and not to go too far. Talk about being sick, and going to the hospital, or driving mules! Coward as I was, and I knew it, there was something about the air that made me feel that I wouldn't be in the hospital that day for all the money in the world. All idea of being sorry for the enemy, all charity, all hope that the war might close before any more men were killed, was gone. After looking in the upturned faces of our dead and wounded on the field, the more of the enemy that were killed the better. It is thus that war makes men brutal, while in active service. They think of things and do things that they regret immediately after the firing ceases. The next ten minutes was the nearest thing to h.e.l.l that I ever experienced, and it seemed as though my face must look like that of a fiend. I felt like one. The bugle sounded "forward," and then there was an order to trot, and the revolver firing began, with the enemy so near that you could see their countenances, their eyes. Some of them were mounted, others were on foot, some on artillery caissons, and all full of fight. It did not take long to exhaust the revolvers, and then the sabers began to come out, and the horrible word "charge," came from a thousand throats, and every soldier yelled like a Comanche Indian, the line spread out like a fan, and every soldier on his own hook. Sabers whacked, horses run, everybody yelled. Men said "I surrender," "What you jabbing at me for when I ain't fighting no moah," "Drop that gun, you Johnnie, and go to the rear."

Ones of pain and anguish, and awful sounds that a man ought never to hear but once. The business was all done in ten minutes.

Many of our men were killed and wounded, and many of theirs were treated the same way. Those who could get away, got, and those we pa.s.sed without happening to hit them, were prisoners, because the infantry followed and took them back to the rear. Jim and me stayed as near together as possible, and we noticed one young Confederate on a mule. His left arm was hanging limp by his side, and as Jim pa.s.sed on one side of him and I on the other, he said, as he held up his right hand, "I dun got enough, and I surrender." The thing was about over, the bugle having sounded the "recall," and we turned and went back with this Confederate. He was as handsome a boy as ever fired a gun, and while he was pale from his shattered left arm, and weak, he said, "You gentlemen are all fine riders, sir. You fought as well as Southern men, sir." That was a compliment that Jim and me acknowledged on behalf of the northern army.

He couldn't have paid our regiment a higher compliment if he had studied a week. Then he said: "I was a fool to be in this fight. I was a prisoner and was only exchanged last week. I might have remained at home on a furlough, but when our army came along yesterday, and the boys said there was going to be a fight, I took my sisters mule, the only animal on the place, and came along, and now I am a cripple." I looked at the mule, and I said to Jim, in a whisper, "I hope to die if it isn't the angel's mule. That must be her brother." Jim was going to ask him what his name was, when we neared the place, where our regiment was forming and the surgeon of our regiment came along, and I said, "Doc, I wish you would take this young fellow and fix up his arm nice. He is a friend of mine. Take him to our regimental hospital." Then we went back to the regiment, the prisoners were taken away, and after marching around through the woods for an hour we rode back to our camp, and the battle was over. Two or three hours later I went over to the regimental hospital and found the black-eyed confederate with his arm dressed, and he was talking with our boys as though he belonged there. Some one asked how he happened to be there, and the old doctor said he believed he was a relative of one of our officers. Anyway he was going to stay there. I gave him a bunch of sutler cigars, and left him, and an hour later the "angel" showed up, pale as death, and wanted some one to go with her to the battle held to help find the body of her dead brother. She said he had arrived home from the North the morning before, and had gone into the fight, and when the Confederates came back, defeated, past their plantation, her brother was not among them, and she knew he was dead.

I have done a great many things in my life that have given me pleasure, but no one that I remember of that made me quite so happy as I was to escort the girl who had been so kind to me, to the hospital where her brother was. His wound was not serious, and he sat on a box, smoking a cigar, telling the boys the news from Wisconsin. He had just come from there, where he was a prisoner, and he couldn't talk enough about the kindness of the "people of the nowth." His sister almost fainted when she found him alive, then hugged him until I was afraid she would disturb his arm, and then she sat by him and heard him tell of his visit to Wisconsin. Before night he was allowed to go home with his sister on parole, and Jim and I were detailed to go and help bury the dead of the regiment.