Roughing it with the regulars

Front matter

Class_„ Z 7 Book '_

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT.

WM. H. OLIVER, JR.

Chapter I. The Regular

Is he ready ? Well, I guess, sir,

You can count on him, you bet, Whene'er a war is threatening

He is here and there; but yet No literary mortal,

No author or no scribe Has given him fair justice

Which is his, and then beside — Oh, bosh, what's the use of talking,

What can I say or do ?

But leave the judgment of his virtues —

His vices — now, to you,

— Wm. H. Oliver, Jr.

At the time that the Spanish- American War commenced, I, like many other young fellows whose souls were fired to a white heat by the suffering of the Cubans, and a belief in Spanish treachery regarding the Maine, dropped book and pen and was ready for deeds of " derring do." With an ancestry of fighting men in every generation since before the days of the French and Indian Wars, I had feared that my chance to carry on the family tradition would never come and how gladly I welcomed this opportunity. The only condition made by my father, who had been a cavalry officer in the Civil War, was, that I should enter the regular sendee, knowing that the officers were men who had received special training in their profession and were best calculated to take proper care of their commands.

On the morning of June 14, 1898, I enlisted in the regular sendee under the provisions of the Hull Bill. This bill allowed each man, whose enlistment was governed by it, the privilege of applying for his discharge upon the declaration of peace or at the expiration of three years.

While reflecting upon my enlistment and hardly realizing what it all meant, I became conscious that a young Jewish fellow was intently watching me. He seemed both perplexed and excited, not knowing into which branch of the service he desired to enter. I told him that the cavalry was my choice as my father had served through the Civil War as a cavalry officer and desired that I enter this arm of the service also. Finally a cavalry corporal standing near, overhearing our conversation as to the relative merits of the different arms, imparted the not very encouraging information, in a gruff tone, "That if we wished to be killed, the cavalry branch was as good as any to experiment with."

This decided the question for my newly found bunkie that was to be, whose name was Joseph Seigel. From that hour we were as intimate as if our friendship had been of years' duration. He had such a manly, straightforward way that it was impossible to resist him; and I was not mistaken in my judgment of him. In the days to come he was more than brother to me. Friendship like this is unusual, excepting where both have undergone the same hardships, privations and excitement of a soldier in active campaigning.

At noon, on the day of my enlistment, my father and I ate dinner at a well-known restaurant on Broadway. While our thoughts were anything but cheerful, we endeavored to laugh and divert each other from the separation that might be forever. One of the topics alluded to, was the improbability of my soon eating such a fine dinner as I was then enjoying; I had a faint idea that Uncle Sam was not accustomed to feeding his charges on course dinners; but I was rather premature in presuming, for all of the dinners I enjoyed under his patronage were certainly "coarse," including also our breakfasts and suppers. My thoughts often wandered to that farewell dinner amid its familiar surroundings and then, with a sigh, I would make a dive for the bacon, hardtack and coffee, or perhaps the "slum." This edible is a conglomeration of stuff consisting of canned roast or corned beef, potatoes, canned tomatoes and onions, and when cooked resembles an Irish stew, minus its savory palatableness; but then, when a man has ridden in the saddle from sunrise to sunset, day after day, he little thinks of the quality — but more of the quantity — of food he can stow away. After finishing our dinner and a delicious old Havana cigar, I went back to the recruiting office and was mustered in with my father's consent, being under age at that time.

Most of the recruits were sent to the forts in and around New York to receive their accoutrements. The squad of six men including myself, who were assigned to the cavalry, were detailed to Fort Slocum, David's Island, the enlistment papers addressed to the Commandant being entrusted to me. It would be impossible to describe the so-called barracks that we were quartered in that night, and it would be unpatriotic to criticise our government for risking the lives of its proteges in a building which looked as if it would collapse and crush us before morning. From one hundred and fifty to two hundred recruits were quartered in this building, the majority of whom had been assigned to the sea-coast defenses of Massachusetts, Maine and the immediate forts around New York. The following morning, after a wash under the hydrant and a substantial breakfast, we were formed into line and marched to the quartermaster's for our uniforms. The heavy winter wear allotted us would have served good purpose in Alaska, but in the hot climate, such as we were destined for, meant unnecessary suffering and discomfort. That afternoon the recruits assigned to the Fifth Cavalry started out to join the regiment which was supposed to be in camp at Jackson Barracks, New Orleans. Each man carried a canteen of coffee and three days' rations of bread and beef.

Our first halt was at the Army and Navy building in New York, where I had been ordered to stop to arrange for the transportation of the men, and much to my disgust was warned by the paymaster against squandering the munificent sum of money allowed us for coffee on anything stronger — six cents per day for each man. Everything being in readiness we started for the ferry at the foot of Whitehall Street, and now our army life had actually begun. Many were the glances we cast at beloved old New York as we saw it receding in the distance. Arriving in Jersey City for the 6 p. m. express of the B. & O. R. R. for Cincinnati, we started on our journey south. The trip was uneventful except for the glances and questions of the curious and the jolts and jars one receives on this road, and also for the few glimpses of the beautiful scenery he catches of this country when not passing through tunnels.

At six o'clock the following evening the train pulled into Cincinnati. Seigel and I decided to scout around the town for a cheap, good restaurant; but not before I had cautioned the other fellows that we would leave on the n o'clock train that night, and if they were not present the train would leave without them, and it would be a case of counting the ties to New Orleans.

A flaring sign over a doorway with the familiar legend, "Good Dinner, 15 Cents," attracted our attention, and we concluded to test its goodness by a practical demonstration. We walked into a large room filled with smoke that escaped from the rear of the place, presumably the kitchen, for the incessant clatter of dishes and banging of tin pans indicated it as such. We seated ourselves at a table and waited until the waiter found us, and after yelling out our order of "ham, and two with the sunny sides up," he disappeared in the smoke again, presently to return shuffling along with both orders on his mighty right arm. Surely that fellow had missed his vocation, for a professional juggler would have been put to shame could he have seen the careless and easy manner in which this waiter balanced a goodly portion of a crockery shop on his arm.

" Say, Will," said Joe, coughing, "I wonder will they charge us for the smoke?"

I said, "I didn't know — that the sign outside did not state so."

After the waiter had arranged the dishes in front of us, Joe exclaimed, "I never saw anything like this — fifteen cents, for what? — ham and eggs, stewed tomatoes, corn, hot biscuits, coffee and pie; I can't believe m)- eyes." The room was entirely rid of smoke by the time we had finished eating, so we lounged in our chairs, knowing too well that it would probably be a long time before we would again enjoy the luxury of eating at a table. We were both in a talkative and reminiscent mood and were comfortable and at ease with the world, as one usually feels after eating a hearty meal. Then it was that Joe told me the main facts of his checkered career.

His family had been exiled from Poland when he was a mere lad; their estates had been confiscated by the Russian government, leaving them destitute and dependent on a cruel world. Joe came to this country at the time of the exilement, bringing but a small share of the world's riches with him. His is the nature to which no obstacle seems insurmountable; and from a pedler with a pack on his back, he had educated and raised himself to a splendid position with a New York firm, which he occupied at the time of his enlistment. When I asked him why he had enlisted, he answered with much enthusiasm, "This country has given me life, home and liberty. These were denied me in poor oppressed Poland. Should I not show niy appreciation to a country that has granted me all these privileges, with also free thought and speech ? ' '

He was so sincere, and the patriotism shown for his land of adoption was so intense, that I wondered if I, whose ancestors had been Americans for generations, could boast of more feeling for my country than this man did.

It finally occurred to us that we were, perhaps, keeping other hungry beings from occupying seats by our prolonged talk, so we roused ourselves, paid for our meal and started off to walk around town, finally arriving at the depot. We found that about three hundred men, all recruits, had arrived since we had left, and such a motley crowd it would have been hard to have found elsewhere. Most of them were minus some article of apparel, they having pawned a coat, or a hat, or even a pair of shoes for a little ready money. Half a dozen men were exerting their energies in a useless display of authority. Every man considered himself the disciplinarian, however, and the shouts of derision which greeted these few fellows, who were doing their best to restore order, were amusing. These recruits were from Milwaukee, Chicago and other places in the west. One man in each detachment, like myself, had been given charge of the transportation, coffee money and enlistment papers, and they were rounding up their respective detachments in ' ' cow-puncher-like ' ' fashion and finally succeeded in getting them safely corralled in the train. As one of the railroad officials said: " they were rough riders and no mistake; in fact, the roughest that had ridden down the pike for many moons." These recruits were also assigned to the Fifth Cavalry and were on their way to Jackson Barracks to receive uniforms and accoutrements preparatory to joining the regiment. Our train consisted of six day coaches, one smoker and two sleepers. The latter were for the use of the officers who were hurrying to join their regiments in the different camps below Mason and Dixon's line. All that night we whizzed through Ohio and Kentucky. Next morning, every one complained of a stiffness from sleeping in the straight backed seats with barely enough upholstering to relieve the hardness of the wood and iron. At Bowling Green, Kentucky, the train stopped for ten minutes to allow the usual passengers to breakfast, but not the soldiers who were feasting upon government "chuck," hard tack, canned beef and coffee.

Having no coffee in my canteen, I stepped off the train into the restaurant to have it filled. The waiter, a negro, kept me waiting a suspiciously long time for the change of a dollar bill I had handed him. It was evidently a game of hide-and-seek, for the fellow had disappeared and I heard the warning bell and then the creak of the wheels; but as I made a bolt for the door, I grabbed a heavy platter in one hand and a cup in the other. As I reached the door, the negro's face appeared over the top of the counter and I then used some forcible language for the enlightenment of his soul, threatening him with a crack of daylight in his black head, if he did not hand over the proper change immediately. My threatening attitude had its desired effect and I dropped both dishes and jumped on the last car just as the train was leaving the station. The journey south at that time of the year was very pleasant. We had a chance to see the negroes busy on the plantations and in the fields; and last, but not least interesting, were the many groups of cunning little pickaninnies, who would alwa}'S stop what they were doir.g, place their arms akimbo and look at the train until it was out of sight. One amusing incident occurred at a stop-over station in Alabama. It was noon hour and we were to wait there for fifteen minutes for an express to pass. We tumbled out of the train to stretch our legs and incidentally use the station platform for a combination table and chair as we enjoyed our mid-day meal. While we were laughing and joking over the hardness of the hardtack and salubriousness of the canned beef (the coffee I had transferred to my fountain pen as a substitute for ink and which I actually used as such) some one shouted ' ' Attention ' ' and a commissioned officer stalked by. We had all heard of the unpardonable offense of not saluting a superior officer and of the terrible consequences likely to ensue. Every man made an attempt at a salutation, some in a sitting posture, others with their eating utensils pointed skyward. One fellow in particular was taken with such consternation and surprise, that forgetting his tin cup full of coffee which he held in his right hand, raised it to his forehead and in consequence he and the fellows near him were sprinkled with the contents.

On the morning of June 19th, we reached New Orleans. I fear the first impression that the citizens had of us must have been that a large band of tramps had invaded the place, for we were certainly a much begrimed and dirty looking lot of men. The men were the embodiment of good nature, as if such a trifling thing as a missing hat, shoe or coat was a matter of small importance. The sidewalks were so hot that we could almost see the heat radiating from the stones, so that walking to Jackson Barracks was out of the question. Trolley cars took us to within a short distance of the Barracks where we learned that the Fifth Cavalry had left the city, having been ordered to

Tampa via Mobile. After delivering the documents to the Commandant, I joined the fellows in a good old fashioned Saturday night scrub in the wash house which was equipped with modern bath tubs. After our wash and feeling like white men again, we New Yorkers decided to see the city. We had received our clothing outfit at Fort Slocum, and as our services were not required, we asked for passes to the city, which were granted the next morning. We found New Orleans a very quaint old town. One of its peculiarities was the open sewer which ran through the streets in specially constructed stone ditches. No wonder an epidemic of yellow fever is a yearly occurence in this city with such unsanitary conditions. The citizens were intensely patriotic, especially the women. They all joined in the slightest demonstration, displaying their sentiments in the most approved American fashion.

The Mississippi River, with its display of numberless steamships, flat bottom steamboats and sailing craft plying back and forth, presents the extensive facilities afforded by this harbor for commerce. The largest trans-shipments of cotton and sugar in the United States take place here. Nine miles of wharfage, five hundred feet wide, have been built encircling the city. The loading and unloading of the ships by negro stevedores is a sight well worth remembering. The river was fairly alive with pickaninnies who resembled huge water spiders as they peformed the "dead man's float ' ' and other aquatic feats with the most perfect ease. An occasional ' ' heave oh " or the air of some negro melody was wafted to our ears from the levees where the negroes were working, apparently as happy as the day is long. It was a comical sight to see those burly black fellows combine pleasure and work, playing all sorts of pranks on each other, wrestling, singing or doing a ' ' double shuffle ' ' in every spare moment. At the sharp command of the foreman they would rush to their work and with a "heave oh, way she go," would hoist the bales of cotton on shipboard.

On the afternoon of June 21st, four hundred uniformed men marched through the majestic portals of the antiquated barracks. Very different were they from the noisy, uncouth lot of men who had arrived in the city a couple of days before. Admiration was very manifest for the newly uniformed men and their orderly ranks as they marched through the streets to the depot where they were met by an enthusiastic crowd that cheered them a hearty farewell and God-speed. Amidst the waving of handkerchiefs and blowing of tin horns our train left the station, starting on the long and tiresome journey to Jacksonville.

The road from New Orleans to Tampa, via Jacksonville, was very rough, swaying the cars so that it gave many of us the sensation of sea-sickness. Late that evening Seigel and I ensconced ourselves, as comfortably as the circumstances allowed, in a seat, and were soon asleep. We were propped against each other, shoulder to shoulder, in such a way that the danger of sliding off our makeshift bed was reduced to a minimum. A sudden jolt and jar awakened us and then the train ran smoothly for a few moments. Presently the guard yelled out that the train was off the track, and I for one preferred that it should keep on running in ditches instead of in its customary way — over crooked rails and in what felt to us like springless cars. The following afternoon we reached Jacksonville without any more mishaps, beyond what the passengers suffered from the strain occasioned by the constant gripping of seats to prevent precipitation through the windows and doors of the cars

The city was crowded from one end to the other with soldiers. Everywhere uniforms — nothing but uniformed men. The hotels were filled with officers and their families.

Festive youths in spick-span uniforms with shoulder straps stalked up and down the principal streets, looking for all the world like young popinjays. We saluted a few of these young officers, but they were either profoundly ignorant of military etiquette or felt themselves too exalted in rank to notice a common private. Had they been regular army officers, our salutations would have been recognized instantly and returned courteously. A grocery store, a short distance up the street, attracted our attention by the fresh display of vegetables in front, and it also reminded me that I needed sugar to sweeten my coffee. I walked into the store and asked the clerk to sell me a cent's worth of sugar as that would be plenty.

"Well, young fellow," said he, in a sarcastic tone, "You don't want very much."

Misconstruing his meaning, intentionally perhaps, I said, "No, not very much, just enough to sweeten my coffee." He squinted his eyes and puckered his forehead as if trying to calculate exactly how much profit he would make on a cent's worth. He opened and shut his mouth a few times as if about to speak, and finally drawled out that two cents' worth was the least he could sell me. I asked him for a pinch or two, but as this would have been a direct loss, he refused on general principles. I thanked him for his generosity, so unwillingly extended, and quitted the store, for while I had been innocently trying to get a corner on sugar one of the fellows overheard our conversation, and decided that a man so cussed mean ought to contribute something to the maintenance of Uncle Sam's standing army, so he had selected a few tomatoes as a donation. We ate our supper of hardtack, canned beef and coffee on the train later on in the evening. The first man to bite into one of the tomatoes was he who had selected them. The wa>' of the transgressor is usually hard, and this unfortunate fellow was no exception to the rule, for this tomato was bad and caused a general stampede into the fresh air, where we finished eating our supper and the remaining tomatoes.

Contrary to all expectations the train started for Tampa on schedule time — nine o'clock that evening. The official time tables of some of these southern roads are somewhat similar to a horse racing programme. The numbers of the train, the arrivals and departures and the mileage are printed thereon; but like a horse, no specified train can be relied on to win out. The Plant System, from Jacksonville to Tampa, is a very primitive road. The engines burn wood for fuel, and cords of it are piled beside the track at short distances, the train stopping every hour or two to replenish the supply. One can imagine the speed, or rather the lack of speed, when only two hundred miles were covered in fourteen hours. The train actually traveled so slowly that we would jump off and walk to the watermelon patches which skirted the track, tuck a watermelon under each arm, saunter back, and without any great exertion board the same car we had left a few minutes previously. We passed over many swamps, and as every one knows that Florida is an alligator country, where this animal flourishes in all its native ugliness, we were very anxious to see one, but every log that we sighted proved to be a log and nothing more.

The following morning, about ten o'clock, we arrived in Tampa. Army wagons were lined up at the depot in readiness to carry us to the camp. After half an hour of jolting over a deep sandy road, and a continual flow of profanity poured by the drivers upon the mules, we saw, through a grove of pine trees on our left, the tented city of Camp Tampa. The camp was situated on a barren sandy plain that had evidently been a pine forest, as the stumps dotted the ground in all directions excepting the parade ground, where more care had been taken to procure a fine field — a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide, of deep sandy soil. It could not be excelled for cavalry manoeuvres; but as a drilling ground we recruits, who later were drilled on it two or three times daily, found it very fatiguing.

Upon arriving at the camp we were lined up and divided into detachments and assigned to different troops. Seigel and I were standing side by side as the officer who was counting off the men necessary for each troop passed by. Seigel was unluckily the last man assigned to troop " A," while I was number one recruit for troop "K. " Joe stepped forward a few paces, saluted Col. Whiteside, and asked permission if I might be included in the troop " A " batch of recruits also. The very idea of a raw recruit approaching an officer on such a trivial matter no doubt astonished the older soldiers, as their faces expressed volumes. I also was somewhat surprised at his audacity, but the colonel's good uatured face wreathed in smiles as he said: "Are you brothers ? ' '

" No,'' said Joe, "but almost."

This pleased the jovial old soldier so much that he ordered the man on Joe's right to change places with me.

A battalion drill was in progress and we could see the troopeis, half a mile distant, making an evolution, which, when completed, took the form of two long lines. Suddenly the bugle sounded the charge and the lines moved simultaneously. Clouds of dust formed a background to the fast approaching picture. The horses, which were all bays, needed no urging, and the cavalrymen, wearing campaign hats, blue shiits and blue trousers, gave them free rein. Every man was yelling with the excitement of the exhilarating e.cercise and passing us like a flash, .with a clanking of accoutrements and the thud of hoof beats, disappeared in the dust. I thought of the charge of the light brigade: " Flashed all their sabres bare, Flashed all at once in air;"

and I wondered how long a time must elapse before I would be competent to take part in such a wild ride.

Of course we were the cynosure of all eyes as we marched by the troop streets, and many were the good natured gibes we had flung at us. One trooper sung out: "Look at the soldiers' nice new trousers — I can see their finish after two weeks of monkey drill." We did not understand the meaning of this "monkey drill," but a smile stole over the face of Sergeant Hunting, our escort, and, judging by his chuckling, we recruits had a treat in store for us. A few moments' short walk brought us to troop "A" street, into which we turned. Sergeant Hunting looked into a tent and beckoned Seigel and myself to enter. By way of introduction to the two troopers therein, seated upon the straw, cleaning their shooting irons, he said bluffly, " Boys, make room for two men, somewhere; don't know their names, but what's the use anyway, we'll christen them. With a good heart}' laugh and a parting nod he left us, to finish the distributing of the six remaining men to the different tents. A space three feet wide was allowed each man for his blanket roll, and we immediately arranged our bunks in accordance with the strict rules and regulations of the tent. I passed my bag of tobacco to the two troopers who each rolled a cigarette, Seigel and I following their example, and at once we all became talkative and at home with each other. God bless the man who discovered tobacco. He should be placed in the same category with the man who invented sleep. The weed, for some unexplained reason, seems to unloosen the tongues of the most morose or bashful of men.

Our two new acquaintances wanted to know the news from Washington. Were they going to move soon ? What was the public opinion in regard to the war, and a thousand other things, until, in fact, the questions came so fast that we cried ' ' quarter, ' ' and like the Yankee, we answered questions by asking them, and soon we found out that there were no reliable newspapers in circulation in the camp. Even as we were talking, one of the correspondents of a " Yellow Journal ' ' was shouting ' ' what the government was going to do, perhaps, or what it wasn't going to do, maybe." It was small wonder that the men were growing restless under what they supposed was the restraint put upon them by the Washington Government, misinformed as they were by the big lettered sheets of a couple of New York newspapers. Both Seigel and I were tired, hot and dirty, and I borrowed a battered tin basin which apparently had been used for everything. An old piece of soft soap covered the bottom of the basin where the sun had melted it very conveniently, as all one had to do when washing was to grab a handful of it. We made a beeline for the hydrant in the rear of the cook house. This line led directly through the cook's realm. Now the army cook is supremely supreme, and in fact, next to the commissioned officer, he is the most respected individual in the service. Of course we did not know that. How could we, only a week in the service ? We found out though very quickly as we became entangled with his pots, kettles and other paraphernalia, that he was an authoritative cuss, for he blankety-blanked us in such a hearty fashion that I yelled back at him: "Say, old man, can you cook as well as you can cuss ? ' '

" Yes," said he, " and a d sight better."

"Well, if you can," I said, "you are a peach, and no mistake."

The men in the adjoining troop were filling the horse trough which was also used by troop " A. " An officer darted here and there giving all sorts of orders to the half a dozen men who composed the bucket brigade. He undertook to show a man how to carry a pail full of water.