CAMP-FIRE XXVI. THE SEQUEL TO THE FARMER AND THE WATERMELONS THE UN-WISDOM OF A RAW RECRUIT-A JOKE ON N August, 1864," said Mr. A. M. Peck, "our regiment was stationed at Paducah, Ky., and a little incident occurred there which is similar to one told at the first camp-fire. Realizing that the soldiers were often without fresh vegetables for weeks at a time, and sometimes without any, the citizens frequently brought garden truck, fruit, melons, etc., into camp, where such things usually found a ready n.arket, especially when the prices were anywhere near reasonable. But occasionally there would a fellow come along, who had most wonderful ideas of the value of his goods, vividly reminding us of the sutler. To pay for the privilege of selling to the boys the traders usually took a liberal measure to headquarters. "One pleasant day the cry of Here's yer mule!' rang through the camp. All the boys were on the alert for some fun, if it was to be had. The mule was a small one, hitched to a dilapidated old wagon, with an old skeleton of a horse which one would think would need weather-boarding to keep the hay that he ate from blowing away. "In the wagon were a few bushels of apples, but from their appearance one could never guess what they really were; knotty things about the size of green walnuts, black and muddy from having lain on the ground so long before gathering, and were really unfit for first-class hog-feed. In all probability the apples, had once been thrown to the swine, which had turned away from them, the apple merchant then collecting and offering them to the soldiers. He had heard that anything eatable could be sold to soldiers at a big price, and now expected to make a small fortune. "But his hopes soon vanished. The boys gathered around, and of course sampled the apples as fast as they could. Only a few, however, were fit to be sampled. The driver thus saw the choicest (if this adjective is applicable) pieces of his fruit rapidly vanishing without any pecuniary return, or even promise of such. He at once concluded to make a desperate effort to save what was left, and whipped away at his sad-faced donkey and his almost fleshless horse, until first the horse and then the donkey began to approach something like a trot, as near as could be judged by soldiers who had had considerable experience in equestrianism before the war. But before the celerity of the team attained the before-mentioned desired gait, the top of a hill was reached, which achievement, however, was made after a certain other event took place, namely: The boys kept even pace with the wagon, and also kept abstracting apples therefrom until the vehicle had been dragged nearly to the top of the hill, when, by some sleight-of-hand, one of the boys slipped out the hind gate of the wagon box, and, sad to tell, the countryman's apples, severally and collectively, suddenly retreated and were captured by a large number of soldiers, who were in the reserve, while the driver, now finding it easy to persuade the mule and the horse to proceed faster on account of the down grade,-looked not back, but accepted the result, sadly concluding that there was great falsehood in the rumor he had heard about such high prices being obtained from soldiers for such a low grade of fruit." Mr. W. B. Cowan then said that he remembered an incident about raw recruits, " while on the march to Atlanta, that created fun for us soldiers. “As was our custom, we had halted along the road for a tew minutes' rest, and as soon as the Halt' was sounded every fellow immediately tumbled down into a fence corner, or where the fence corner should have been, in order to get all the rest possible before the Forward' was sounded. All the old regiments at that time had received a good many new recruits, and they had not become acustomed to old soldiers' ways. When we would halt for a rest, new recruits would be passing frequently, to catch up with their regiments. You could always recognize one of them by the load he carried— a big knapsack with a change of clothes, a blanket or two, and almost always with the bayonet on his gun. We halted one warm day away down in Georgia, and one of those recruits, with an unusual big load on his back, and a new, bright bayonet on his gun, came dragging himself along, when one of the old boys in our regiment, a droll wag of a fellow, raised up on his elbow, took a good long look at the recruit, and said: Hello, soldier!' The fellow stopped. Where did you git that gun sharpened?' The fellow could make no answer. It raised a yell that did not die out until the recruit had gone out of sight." The drum major of the 72d Illinois Infantry, Mr. Edward B. Potter, then said, that "immediately after the fight at Franklin, Tenn., (I have forgotten the date), the supplies were, for some unknown reason, slow in coming-so much so, that our regiment was fed on roasted corn for about five days. Of course some of the boys objected, and cursed the government for not having better food ready for them at the proper time; but they composed a very small per cent. The great majority laughed and chatted, taking it all in good fun, and watched their opportunity to play a joke on the general. After a few days of corn rations, and immediately after breakfast one morning, an orderly sergeant of one of the companies took a rope and tying six or eight of the comrades in a string, started down the road. Wondering what on earth the sergeant meant, the astonished general rode up and inquired: "What in (Hades) is the matter here? What have these men done, sir, that they should be treated in this manner?' "Well, general, said the sergeant, with a very guilty look, as if he had really assumed the authority to punish the boys for some supposed wrong, well, general, I have just fed my mules their corn, and am now taking them down to water.' "Ha! ha! ha!' burst from all who could hear the remark, which, indeed, was loud enough. "Sold again!' said the general, who kindly saluted them and rode off." "As short stories seem to be in order, here is one," remarked a comrade from the East, a guest at the camp-fire. "In the fall of '64 the artillery brigade to which I was attached, was under the command of a major from Maine, who had unfortunately departed from the temperance principles for which that State has for so many years been noted. It was my misfortune for a time to have charge of the whiskey at the headquarters, to which the major's brigade was attached, and many laughable incidents occurred, one of which comes back fresh to my mind on the present occasion. "In anticipation of his birthday, and a celebration with friends, as I surmised, the major, the day previous to that anniversary, rode up to headquarters and accosting me by name, inquired how much whiskey I had on hand. "Not thinking our supply of stimulant needed in the direction mentioned, the major already being far too much under its influence, I evaded a true statement, and replied: "Only a small quantity, major.' "Not satisfied, he again put the question in the same thick, unsteady voice before used. This time, still wishing to convey the idea of a very limited quantity, I answered: "I may have about two gallons.' "The major straightened himself up as best he could and, with a most disappointed and disdainful look, exclaimed: "What is, hic, two gallons of whiskey among one man!' and slowly rode away. "And let me tell you in this connection about the captain, having charge of the commissary department at the headquarters of the corps lying next to ours, who did not water his whiskey. "Riding upon one occasion with several fellow officers to our headquarters, they all dismounted and came in, as they said, to sample our whiskey. I immediately set before them the best we had, which was considered a fair article for army use. "But the captain, after imbibing, declared it to be very thin and badly watered (a statement containing more truth than poetry), and invited us to ride over to his corps where we should be furnished with the 'simon pure' article, which we could water to suit ourselves. "The invitation was at once accepted, as good whiskey was very scarce at that time, and no opportunity was allowed to pass unaccepted by those accustomed to the beverage. "On arriving at his quarters a fresh barrel was tapped, a measure drawn off, and the glasses filled. I noticed somening peculiar in my glass, and while the captain was calling attention to the fact that his whiskey was not watered, I extracted from the contents of the glass given me a little dead fish about an inch in length, which had doubtless come from the brook that flowed at the rear of the captain's commissary tent, and holding it up to the gaze of all just as he concluded his remarks, I asked. |