Drum Taps in Dixie Part 23

The case of a man in our regiment, whom we will call Jackson, baffled the cunning and skill of "Old Symptoms" when we were in the forts near Fairfax seminary. Jackson pretended to be out of his head and the officers got so they did not exact any duties of him, not even to answer roll call. He came and went and did as he had a mind to. Near the fort was a large farm which he pretended he had bought and he used to spend most of his time down there working and ordering about the men, who humored him in his notions. Finally his case was pa.s.sed upon by a board of surgeons and his discharge ordered. As he was leaving camp for home one of the boys asked him what he was going to do with his farm and he winked as he replied, that he thought the Watkins family could run it without his help.

I recall the case of another young man who became demented. He would not eat or leave his tent unless driven out. His clothes and person became filthy and finally the old surgeon ordered two men to take him to a stream and give him a good scrubbing in almost ice cold water, for it was in a winter month.

The treatment was severe but had the desired effect of arousing his manhood and from that day he was a changed person and soon became a model soldier, noted for clean gun, equipment, etc., and I am pleased to add was finally made a sergeant and served to the end of the war with honor.

AN ACT OF HEROISM.

When Frederick Funston swam the little Filipino river in the face of a handful of cowardly natives, the act was heralded all over the world as one of great heroism and he was rewarded by a general's commission, yet I venture to say that there is hardly a civil war veteran, who saw active service, but that has knowledge of numerous equally as heroic acts that were scarcely known of outside of the man's own company or regiment.

Scarcely a gathering of veterans but has more than one hero among them whose fame has been forgotten except but for a few of his comrades, and the chances are that the man has had hard work to get the government to recognize his claim to a pittance of a pension to keep him out of the poor house.

I recall an incident of great bravery by an officer of our regiment who went to the war as a bugler in my company. In December, 1864, a part of the 5th and 2d corps, and Gen. Gregg's division of cavalry were sent to the left again to try and turn Lee's right flank. The weather was intensely cold for that country, ice forming on all of the streams.

The enemy were encountered at Hatcher's Run and it was desired to dislodge a confederate battery that was masked in some woods on the opposite side of the stream. A staff officer rode down in front of our regiment and asked Maj. Hulser if he could furnish men to cross the stream and charge the battery. The major called for volunteers and the first man to respond was Capt. Orlando T. Bliss of Co. F, a former Carthage boy, who with the missiles flying thick and fast stepped out in front of his company and asked all who were willing to go with him to step ten paces to the front, and when every man of the company lined up with their captain the 2nd heavy applauded the act with a hearty cheer.

Additional volunteers were called for and Capt. George Armes (now Major Armes, retired, of Washington, D. C.), and his company responded.

It seemed a hazardous undertaking but the men did not falter as they waded into the icy cold water which was up to the armpits of most of them and in many places there were deep holes, so that not a few had to swim, but once across the stream they made a rush for the battery and the rebel artillerists took to their heels.

The suffering of the soldiers was great that night, as it was bitter cold and the clothing of those who forded the stream would have frozen on them only that the men built fires and stood around them.

Gen. Miles commended the conduct of the men in general orders and the two officers were breveted for their gallantry.

In this connection I cannot refrain from relating a little episode in the army experience of Capt. Bliss in which a certain drummer boy was mixed up.

It was earlier in the war and our regiment was doing duty at Arlington.

Bliss was a corporal and had charge of our drum corps. One day the acting drum major and a certain lad of my acquaintance thought they would go over to Washington. When they applied to the adjutant for a pa.s.s he told them they would have to defer their visit until some other day, as he could not issue any more pa.s.ses that day, but who ever knew a boy that would put off a pleasure until to-morrow that he could have today. The two boys had friends in the quartermaster's department who had standing pa.s.ses to go after supplies, and it occurred to them that they could borrow a couple, which they did, and went to the city, visited the theatre, and had a fine time.

Not having the countersign they had to return before dark, and as they walked up to the sentry box at the end of the bridge on the Georgetown side, who should step out with the sentry but our adjutant.

It is needless to say that the boys were surprised and the officer admitted he was also. He inquired if they had pa.s.ses and when they were produced he took them and sent the young volunteers over to the fort under arrest.

Shortly after noon the next day the sergeant major took the youngest lad over to the colonel's tent where he listened to a severe lecturing, after which he was made to do penance by standing on the head of a barrel four hours in the sun. Say, but the end of a barrel is a pretty small s.p.a.ce to stand on for that length of time with the sun up in the nineties! Among the orders read on dress parade that night was one reducing Corp. Bliss to the ranks.

But a more fearless man never shouldered a musket and shortly after we went to the front Bliss had won his stripes again. At Cold Harbor he was made a sergeant, at Petersburg a lieutenant, at Reams Station a captain, at Hatcher's Run brevet major and if the war had lasted long enough and some rebel bullet had not caught him he would have been wearing a star.

BRAVE PETE BOYLE A DRUMMER BOY FROM THE BOWERY.

As I pa.s.sed a man in City Hall park, New York, late one afternoon not many years ago I instinctively felt that I had known him. He was sitting on one of the park seats and the particular thing that arrested my attention was a red clover shaped badge that was fastened on the lapel of his coat. To one who was with Hanc.o.c.k at Gettysburg or followed his lead from the Rapidan to Appomattox, tender memories are evoked when the old 2d corps'

badge is seen.

Whenever I see a man with the talismanic emblem on I just feel like taking off my hat to him. So after I had pa.s.sed the New York veteran I thought to myself I should like to know something of his history. I wheeled about, retraced my steps and approaching him saluted and said, "How are you, old 2d corps."

It does not take long for two veterans to get acquainted and the exchange of a few words revealed the fact that we had been members of the same regiment. In fact it was none other than "Pete" Boyle, a member of our old 2d heavy drum corps.

One of the first things "Pete" said was, "Do you remember that Maryland fair?" I certainly did and will try and tell the readers something about it.

It was just a town fair and not on a very large scale either, but it was held in a beautiful and prosperous settlement a few miles from Washington and the people all turned in and made the most of it and had a glorious time. The drum corps of the 2d New York was engaged as one of the star attractions.

It all came about because our adjutant married a daughter of Mrs. E. D. E.

N. Southworth, the famous writer of those old-time fascinating Ledger stories, such as the "Hidden Hand," "Ishmael," etc., etc. Her home was in Georgetown and she, having friends out in the country, where the fair was to be held had told marvelous tales of the dandy drum corps of the 2d and as a result we were excused from camp duties and allowed to go to the fair, drink red lemonade and dance with the pretty country maidens. We thoroughly enjoyed the respite from camp life and made the most of our two days' stay with the Marylanders.

Did you ever go out into a peach orchard in the early morning and eat the luscious fruit that had dropped off in the night? "No?" Well, then you have never tasted the true flavor of a peach. The house where we were quartered was flanked on three sides by a peach orchard and we got up in the morning, went out and sat under the trees and stowed away peaches enough to stock a fruit stand.

Pete Boyle was the largest boy of the drum corps and he was a born swell.

His home was New York. He had been a newsboy in the Bowery district. He was a clog and jig dancer equal to many of the professionals and when it came to sparring and wrestling he was the champion lightweight of the regiment.

After Pete had taken part in one "Virginia reel" which gave him the opportunity to show off some of his fancy steps he could have had anything he wanted from those Maryland farmers, and the girls, why they were just falling over each other to get a chance to dance with him.

As I have stated, Pete was a swell and would never wear government clothes without having them cut over and made to fit, and he would not hide his shapely No. 5 foot with a government brogan.

The girls were all watching Pete from out of the corners of their eyes, but it was noticed that one in particular was his favorite and that he danced with her quite frequently, which was not looked upon with favor by her Maryland escort who was big enough to eat Pete up.

The morning of the second day while we were out in the peach orchard a darkey approached our party and asking for "Mistah Boyle" handed Pete a note which after looking over, Pete read to us. It was in substance as follows:

"Mr. Peter Boyle:

I thought you might like to know, being as you are a Union soldier, that the young lady you have been paying so much attention to is a secesh sympathizer and has a brother with Mosby the rebel guerilla. A word to the wise is sufficient.

"JOE YARDSLEY."

Of course I am not giving the real name that was signed but it will answer for the purpose of this article.

Pete called the darkey, gave him a quarter and said, "You can go and tell Joe Yardsley that I said that if he was half a man he would be with Sue's brother. Tell him that I think he is a sneak and a coward and if he will come over in the grove about 5 o'clock this afternoon I will slap his face."

The darkey showed his white teeth, scratched his head and digging his big toe in the sand said, "I reckon I bettah not tole dat to Joe. Dem Yardsleys got a powerful temper, dey hab, an' dey boss all de young fellahs' roun' yere."

"All right, Sam," said Pete, "You tell him just what I told you."

That afternoon Pete and Sue were inseparable. They made themselves conspicuous everywhere.

The darkey brought Pete another note during the day and it simply said, "I will meet you in the grove. J. Y."

Of course all of us boys went over with Pete and the Marylander brought three companions.

The two princ.i.p.als stripped to the waist and I confess I was fearful of the result when I saw how much larger Pete's antagonist was than he.

When they got the word Yardsley made a spring at Pete who dropped his head and b.u.t.ted the big fellow below the wind and slid him over his back. He got up and came furiously at our Pete again. But he knew a lot of Bowery tricks and quick as a flash stepped aside, caught him around the neck, whirled him around and threw him, slapped his face smartly and then let him up. The fellow rushed at Pete again, who now thought it about time to quit fooling, and he landed a good hard blow on the fellow's nose and mouth which staggered him and made the blood fly.

The spectators on both sides thought that the affair had gone far enough and called for a cessation of hostilities. Pete offered to shake hands with his antagonist, but he declined and went away muttering threats.

That evening we started for our Virginia camp in a large carry-all accompanied by a bevy of young people on horseback. They rode with us a couple of miles and then bade us good night and good bye, and as we drove away we heard them singing, "Maryland, My Maryland."

When I sat down to write of my old comrade it was to tell of two deeds of heroism performed by him and not of his adventures at a country fair, but when I unrolled my knapsack of war memories, the incidents narrated came tumbling out with the rest so I have jotted them down.