Adventures and Reminiscences of a Volunteer Part 3

"What's alive of them are at the front, suffering from want and hunger," I replied in a strong manner, thinking perhaps he would drive nearer and distribute his load. But he was bent on going back. As he climbed to his seat he said, "I'll tell you, Mr. Sergeant, you kin take a few of these things to the men that are sick in your company."

"They are all sick," I said quickly, for I was greedy and wanted all I could get. He pulled out a hospital shirt and tied up the neck. Having filled it with condensed milk, tobacco, and other things, he asked me if I could carry it. "Could I! I could carry all there's in your cart," I replied. I found my load was a little heavier than I had expected it to be, but I wouldn't say there was too much, but helped him to hitch up his mules and he started off, after giving me a warm hand-shake. I watched him until he disappeared from view, and then thought I would open up the treasure I had buried and deposit some of the shirtful which he had so kindly given me after I had robbed him. It would lighten the load and I could return for the balance next day. I had just started to dig, when I looked up and saw him driving back as hard as he could drive, "Say, young fellow, I--I--I," in a wild, excited manner, reigning his mules up with a jerk and a "Whoa, thar," loud enough to be heard in Petersburg, "I--I thought I'd drive back and dig up that darned sh.e.l.l. It'll be a great curiosity. When I get home I can show the folks the dangerous position I was placed in while distributing these things."

I didn't stop to hear any more, but hurried away with my shirtful. I ran hard and fast, and didn't dare to turn and look round. The sh.e.l.ls began to whiz pretty thickly just at this time, and I prayed and hoped that the old man would get scared and not dig for that sh.e.l.l, for I wanted the boys to have it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The Great Mine Explosion in Front of Petersburg._]

This was on the day fixed for the great mine explosion, every soldier on the entire line was waiting with bated breath for the signal or prolonged rumble of that expected explosion. It did not come, however. The suspense was broken by the appearance nearly a half a mile away, of a soldier with something white on his back, that made a good target for the rebel sharpshooters. Down the railroad I came. I reached the first line of earthworks. For a short distance I would keep on top. In this way I kept on, on, first running one breastwork then another, till I reached the front line. On top of this I ran the whole length, heedless and unmindful of the rebel bullets that pelted about me. I almost flew along. The soldiers shouted to me to keep down, but I heeded them not. Finally I reached the place where my regiment was, jumped down as coolly as if I had run no risk, deposited my bag, received the congratulations of my company, who examined me all over to see if there were any wounds. They found none, however, but on opening the shirt every can of milk had a bullet hole through it, and condensed milk, extract of beef, and tobacco had to be eaten as a soufflee.

The next day found me at the rear again. I looked for the buried treasure--found it. Evidently the old gent had been frightened away, for about half the dirt had been removed from the top, and the stuff was not uncovered. There was a desperate fight going on at the right of our line.

I was pressed into the service of the stretcher corps, which is usually composed of drummer boys. I did duty at this all the forenoon. The onslaught was terrible, and many poor fellows did I help carry off that field; some to live for an hour, others to lose a limb that would prove their valor and courage for the balance of their lives.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

This day our regiment was relieved from the front and supposing they were going to City Point to recruit, they came back about a half a mile, halted for orders; I heard of it and concluded I would go with them and so hastened to where they were, and soon after my arrival the order came to "fall in." They did so with alacrity and bright hopes of much needed rest.

I took my drum and place at the head of the regiment and started with them.

The road to the left led to City Point. Imagine their surprise when nearing it, the order came, "FILE RIGHT, BY COMPANY INTO LINE, DOUBLE QUICK MARCH."

The entire regiment seemed paralyzed for a moment, but only for a moment, the whizzing of the sh.e.l.ls and the zip zip of the rebel bullets plainly told them what caused the sudden change. I was dumbfounded, I didn't know what to do. My brother yelled to me to go to the rear quick, but I didn't; I kept on with them until it seemed to rain bullets, but on, on they went unmindful of the awful storm of leaden messengers of death--on, on and into one of the fiercest charges of the entire war. I saw men fall so thick and fast that there didn't seem as if there was any of my regiment left, and I made up my mind it was too hot for me, so started on the dead run to the rear for a place of safety, and I didn't stop until I was pretty sure I was out of harm's way.

I came to a place about one mile back where evidently there had been a battery located; here I sat down to rest and meditate. I examined myself all over to see if I was. .h.i.t, found I was unhurt but my drum had received several bullet holes in it.

Finding a green spot I stretched myself out and listened to the awful sound of musketry firing which was going on at the front, around me on all sides was the debris of a deserted camp, empty tin cans, broken bayonets, pieces of guns, fragments of bursted sh.e.l.l, and occasionally a whole one that had failed to explode. I had only sat here a few moments thinking which was the best way to go when I was joined by another Drummer Boy from a Pennsylvania regiment. We sat down and talked over our exploits, and I thought he was the most profane lad I had ever met. Most every other word he uttered was an oath.

I asked him if he wasn't afraid to talk so.

"What the h--l should I be afraid of?" he asked, at the same time picking up an old tent stake and sticking it into the ground, trying to drive it in with the heel of his boot. Failing in this he reached over and got hold of an unexploded sh.e.l.l and used this on the stake, but it was heavy and unwieldy.

"I wonder if this was fired by those d--d rebs," he asked.

"I guess it was," I replied, "and you better look out, or it might go off."

"Off be d--d, their sh.e.l.ls were never worth the powder to blow 'em to h--l, see the hole in the b.u.t.t of it, it would make a G--d--d good mawl, wouldn't it?" and looking round at the same time he found an old broom.

Stripping the brush and wire from the handle he said, "I'll make a mawl of it and drive that d--d rebel stake into the ground with one of their own d--d sh.e.l.ls, be d--d if I don't." Inserting the broom handle into the end of the sh.e.l.l he walked over to a stump, and taking the sh.e.l.l in both hands commenced pounding onto the stick against the stump; "d--d tight fit," he hollored to me, and the next instant I was knocked down by a terrific explosion. I came to my senses in a minute and hastened to where he had been standing. There the poor fellow lay unconscious and completely covered with blood, there was hardly a shred of clothes on him, his hair was all burned and both hands taken completely off, as if done by a surgeon's saw.

I was excited and horror stricken for a moment. The sight was horrible, but I quickly regained my composure, knowing that something must be done, and done quickly. So taking the snares from my drum I wound them tightly around his wrists to stop the flow of blood, then I hailed an ambulance, and we took him to the held hospital about a mile to the rear.

On the way the poor fellow regained consciousness, and looking at his mutilated wrists, and then with a quick and bewildered glance at me, "G--d--d tough, ain't it," then the tears started in his eyes, and he broke down and sobbed the rest of the way, "Oh, my G.o.d! What will my poor mother say? Oh, what will she do!"

We reached the field hospital, which is only a temporary place for the wounded where the wounds are hurriedly dressed, and then they are sent to regular hospitals, located in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Norfolk, Portsmouth, etc., where they have all the comforts possible.

We laid the little fellow down in one corner of the tent to wait his turn with the surgeon, and when I left him, he cried and begged for me to stay, but I couldn't stand his suffering longer, so I bade him good-bye with tears streaming down my own cheeks. I hurried out, and even after I reached the outside I could hear him cry, "Oh, my G.o.d! What will my poor mother say? Oh, what will she do!"

In the afternoon I was detailed to wait on the amputating tables at the field hospital.

It was a horrible task at first. My duty was to hold the sponge or "cone"

of ether to the face of the soldier who was to be operated on, and to stand there and see the surgeons cut and saw legs and arms as if they were cutting up swine or sheep, was an ordeal I never wish to go through again.

At intervals, when the pile became large, I was obliged to take a load of legs or arms and place them in a trench near by for burial. I could only stand this one day, and after that I shirked all guard duty. The monotony, the routine of life, in front of Petersburg, was becoming distasteful to me. I had stolen everything I could. My district or territory had given out, so the next day I started for the front to bid my brother good-bye.

Our regiment was sometimes relieved and ordered to the rear for rest; so it was on this occasion, they had fallen back and halted in a little ravine. I met my brother, who always expected me to bring him some stolen sweets or goodies of some kind, but unfortunately this time I came empty-handed. I had failed to find anything to steal. I was hungry myself, but when I looked at him I forgot my own hunger, for such a forlorn appearance as he presented almost broke my heart, and I determined to find him something to eat at all hazards. So off I started on an independent foraging expedition. I had only gone a short distance when I espied a "pie wagon." Usually when the paymaster was around there would be "hucksters"

or peddlers with all kinds of commodities following in his wake. This fellow had driven to the front from City Point. They were generally dare-devils, and this one was no exception to the rule. He had driven right up to the front, unhitched his horse and began selling hot mince pies. He had some kind of a stove and outfit in an old covered wagon where he made the pies quickly and sold them hot for one dollar apiece; the pies were about the size of a saucer. When I reached the wagon there was quite a crowd around him; some were buying and eating them as if they were good, while others stood looking on wistfully watching their comrades who were fortunate enough to have the price. I was one of the unfortunates. I could smell the cooking of the pies long before I reached the wagon, and this only served to increase my already ravenous hunger; but all I could do was to stand there with my hands in my pockets, smack my lips and imagine what they tasted like--the longer I staid the better they tasted. I believe I would have given five hundred dollars for one if I had possessed the money, but I didn't have a cent; our regiment had not been paid. All this time I was thinking of my poor brother, how he would like one of those hot pies, and I began to concoct schemes how to get one. The way I worked the old sanitary man would never do to try on this fellow, for he was a "fakir" by birth, occupation and inclination. The fellow was doing a lively business. "Here you are! Nice hot pies, fresh baked, right from the oven! Walk up lively here. Only one dollar apiece! There's only a few of them left, and I shan't be here again for a month; walk up with your dollar! Get off that wheel, you young devil!" I had climbed up on the wheel to make observations and see if I couldn't sneak a pie, but he was watching and detected my motive; so down I got and stood gaping at him, my mouth wide open; but my hungry look had no effect on him, he had no sympathy for anything except dollars. Finally I thought my brother might have a dollar, so back to him I ran, told him of the pies, but he had not a cent. The knowledge of the pies added two fold to his hunger. "Gosh!" he said, "ain't there some way? Can't you steal one?" "No," I said, "I have tried that. I would have made his horse run away and upset his wagon, but the darned cuss had unhitched him."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Ge!" I exclaimed, "I have it." And off I started. Charley, my brother, owned an old-fashioned silver watch, one of those old "English levers." He thought a great deal of it as a keep-sake and always gave it to me to keep when he was going into action. I had this watch now, and made up my mind I would trade it to the "fakir" and get a lot of pies for us all. Oh! such bright antic.i.p.ations of hot mince pies. I could almost see them floating in the air as big as cart wheels, and fearing they would all be sold before I could reach the wagon, I ran as hard as I could. The crowd had thinned out and so had the pies. "How many have you got left?" I eagerly asked. "Oh, plenty," he replied; "how many, do you want?" "Well," I said, nearly out of breath, "I haven't any money, but I want all you have, and I'll trade you a nice watch for them."

"Say, cully! what yer givin' me? I don't want no watch. Let's see it."

I quickly pa.s.sed it up to him, and stood working my fingers and feet impatiently and revolving in my mind how many pies he would give me and how I would manage to carry them back, when he broke out into a loud, contemptuous laugh, and pa.s.sed the watch back.

"Say, young fellow, that aint no good. I'd rather have a blacking box than that thing."

"It's silver," I replied.

"That don't make no difference. I'll give you one pie for the thing if you want it, see!"

I turned the watch over and over in my hand, my feelings hurt and my stomach disappointed. Then I thought of my brother, forgot that it was his high-priced time-piece, and quickly said:

"Give me the pie and take the watch."

He did so, and away I started on the dead run, I could hardly resist the temptation of biting the pie; but just before I reached the regiment, and in full sight of my brother, I stumbled and fell, smashing the pie into the dirt and mud. I picked myself up, looked at the crushed pie, and the tears started in my eyes; but only for a moment. I brushed them away, gathered up the pieces and hurried to my brother. We rubbed the mud from the pieces the best we could, and devoured them with a hearty relish.

After the pie was gone, I regretted the bargain that I had made. Pie and watch both gone. Remorse took possession of me. I felt guilty; I was conscience-stricken. I was unsatisfied; no more time, no more pie.

"Gosh, that pie was good, wasn't it, 'Pod'?" This was a nickname my brother was pleased to call me by.

"Jinks, I wish you had brought more. Why didn't you try and get two?"

"Well," I said, faltering, "you--you see, I--I didn't have time enough."

"Well, how did you get it, anyway?"

"Oh! I got it on tick." And then I walked over to a stump, thinking I would get away from his questions and all the time revolving in my mind whether I should tell him the truth, or say I had lost it. I felt ashamed of myself and thought what a darned fool I was. I concluded I wasn't a bit smart--the idea of giving a watch for a pie! Finally, Charley came over to me.

"What time is it, Pod?"

"I--I don't know!"

"Why, ain't the watch going?"

"Yes-s. No, it's gone."