Si Klegg Experiences Of Si And Shorty On The Great Tullahoma Campaign Part 22

The poor man looked as miserable as if put in a strait-jacket, but tried to literally obey instructions.

"Now, what's your name?" Si asked the next tall est man.

"Simeon Wheelwright."

"Wheelwright, you stand behind Bradshaw, just as he does."

And so Si went painstakingly through the whole squad until he came to Abel Waite, whom he found did not need any instruction, for he had profited by hearing the lectures to the others, and was standing as stiff and correct as a veteran could have done.

"Great outfit," remarked Shorty, walking down the line, gun in hand, and surveying it critically. "Looks like a mourners' bench froze stiff.

Here, you red-headed man there, take in that corporation. You won't have so much bay window after you've lived on army rations awhile."

"Now," commanded Si, "when I say 'Count twos from the right,' I want you to begin and count. The first man you, Bradshaw says 'one,' and the next man on your left says 'two' and so on. The men in the rear rank do the same. Count twos from the right Count!"

"One, two; four, six; seven, nine; ten, 'leven," shouted the boys, in all manner of tones and general bewilderment.

"Stop it; stop it!" yelled Si, his temper again rising. "Great day, can't you fellers understand plain English when it's talked to you?

What's the matter with you, anyway? Here, Bradshaw, when I give the order to count, you count one. Wheel wright, you count one at the same time. Williams and Talbot, you each count two. Then Aldrich, you and Reynolds count one, and so on."

At last he got them to count to his satisfaction, and then proceeded to the next lesson.

"Now, at the command 'right face' everybody face to the right. The No. 1 men in the front rank stand fast. The No. 1 men in the rear rank take a side step to the right. The No. 2 men each take a side step to the right, and places himself on the right of No. 1."

"Great Jehosephat, Si," remonstrated Shorty; "it'll take 'em a month to learn all that."

"Don't care if it does," said Si desperately. "They've got to learn it sometime, and they can't learn no younger. Might as well begin now as any time. 'Tention! Right face!"

Si had hard work restraining the angry words which fumed up when he saw the execution of his command. Only a few had turned to the right. The rest had either stood still, turned to the left or were turning first one way and then another, to adjust themselves to those nearest them.

"Looks like a political primary just before the vote's called," remarked Shorty. "Better git red rags to tie around their right hands, so's they'll know 'em."

"It'll be a shame to take them across the Ohio river in this shape,"

said Si in deep vexation. "They'll shoot one another's heads off in the first fight, if they've guns in their hands."

"Don't worry," answered Shorty consolingly. "They'll pick it up mighty fast as soon as they see other fellers doing it, and 'll be in purty good shape by the time we git 'em to the regiment. We was just as green as they are."

Si repressed his petulant words with an effort, and started in to give them an ocular demonstration of the way to execute "right face," but was interrupted by the Lieutenant coming up and saying:

"Here, we've got to move right out to catch the ferryboat and the train on the other side. 'Tention! Pick up your bundles. Forward, march!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RECRUITS LINED UP ON THE PLATFORM. 186]

Tactics were forgotten in a go-as-you-please rush on to the ferryboat, through the streets of Louisville, and on to the cars for Nashville.

Everybody else was doing the same. The boat and streets were filled and the depot yard packed with men all pushing forward for the "front."

While Si, walking alongside the Lieutenant, led, Shorty and the rest of the detail brought up the rear. After they had scrambled into the old freight cars and stowed them selves away, Si looked over his squad and counted it.

"Have you got them all aboard, Sergeant?" in quired Lieut. Bowersox.

"I've got the right number, sir," Si answered, saluting; "and if they ain't all the same men they're just as good."

"All right," returned the officer. "I had 103 put in my charge to take to the regiment, and 103 men I must have when I get there."

"You shall have the full 103, Lieutenant," a.s.sured Shorty, "if we have to s.n.a.t.c.h in a native or two to take the place of some that fall through the cracks."

At Nashville the crowd and confusion were excessive; detachments of men of all kinds, sorts and conditions armed and unarmed recruits, convalescent veterans, men coming back from furlough, stragglers under guard, squads of Quartermaster's employees, gangs of railroad laborers and bridge-builders were all surging around, while their officers, superintendents, foremen, etc., shouted themselves hoa.r.s.e in trying to get their men together and keep them so. When Si at last got his men on board, and the train had moved out, he was dismayed to find that he was five short.

"They was lost in that shuffle back there in the depot," said Shorty.

"Lucky it wa'n't more. Wonder that we ever got through as well as we did."

"What in the world am I going to do?" inquired Si dolefully. "There's no use sending back for them. They've probably got mixed up with some other squads, and gone the Lord knows where. They haven't sense enough to find their regiment in such a ruck as this."

Si counted his men over again, with no better result.

"I've got an idee," said Shorty, as Si came up to commune again with him as to the misfortune. "I noticed five mighty lively young Irishmen in that bridge gang that's on the rear car, and I've got a pint flash of whisky that some fellow was green enough to lay down while we was there in Nash ville. I'm goin' back to that car on recruitin' duty."

Si, unable to think of anything better, went with him. The train had stopped on a switch, and seemed likely to rust fast to the rails, from the way other trains were going by in both directions. The bridge gang, under charge of a burly, red-faced young Englishman, was in the rear car, with their tools, equipments, bedding and cooking utensils.

The English foreman was a recent arrival in the country. This was his first employment here. Naturally surly and domineering, these qualities were enhanced by potations at Nashville and since leaving.

Si and Shorty strolled up to the young Irishmen, who were standing on the ground near their car. They were very plainly recent arrivals, for they still wore the characteristic clothes of the Emerald Isle, and after a little conversation with them Shorty produced his bottle and offered them a drink. The foreman had watched them suspiciously, and he came swaggering up, saying insolently:

"'Ere, you bloomin' sojer, Hi want you to keep haway from my men, hand not be a-givin' them drink. You stay by yourselves, hand Hi won't 'ave 'em hinterfered wi' by n.o.buddy."

"Your men," sneered Shorty. "You talk as if they was n.i.g.g.e.rs, and not white men. Who made 'em yours?"

"Stow yer wid, ye b.l.o.o.d.y blue-jack," returned the foreman contemptuously, "hand pull ha way from here. Hi never could bear sojers blokes, too lazy to work hand too cowardly to steal. Hike out o' here, and shut you 'ead, hif you know w'at's well for you."

"Shut up your own head, you British blowhard," retorted Shorty, "and mind your own business. Wait until you are a little longer in the country be fore you try to run it. And I don't want no more o' your slack. If you don't keep a civil tongue in your head I'll make you."

The Englishman was just in the mood to be savagely tickled at the prospect of a fight. He had not had a good, square one since he had been in the country, and nothing yet had offered so gratifying as the prospect of polishing off one of the despised "Hamerican sojers."

Several of the hated officers had strolled up, attracted by the high words, and it would be an additional pleasure to thrash one of their men before their eyes, in revenge for the slights he felt they had put upon him.

"You won't fight," he said disdainfully, "except with a gun or a knife, like a b.l.o.o.d.y Dago. Ye da.s.sent put up yer 'ands like a man."

For response, Shorty handed his cap, his gun, his bottle, his blanket-roll, his belt and haversack to Si, rolled up his sleeves, spit on his hands, doubled his fists, and stepped forward into a boxing att.i.tude.

"Balance up to me, you beer-bloated Britisher," he exclaimed, "and git naturalized by a real Star-Spangled Banner lickin' by an artist who kin comb down any man that owes allegiance to Queen Victoree. Here's a Heenan for your Tom Sayers."

The Englishman began disrobing with an alacrity that showed how much his heart was in it. A ring was speedily formed, the officers, mainly Lieutenants and Captains, eagerly a.s.sisting, while keeping their eyes over their shoulders to see that no one of much higher rank was in the neighborhood.

When the men confronted one another it was seen that they were a fairly-good match. The English man was stouter and heavier; he showed a splendid forearm, with corresponding swelling muscles near the shoulders, and the way he poised himself and put up his hands revealed that he had "science" as well as strength and courage. Shorty was taller and more spare, but he was quicker and had the longer reach. It looked as if the Englishman had the advantage, from his solid strength and staying power, as well as "science." But those who looked on Shorty as inferior did not know of the training he had received among the turbulent crews of the Mississippi River boats. A man who had summered and wintered with that fractious race had little to learn in any trick or device of fighting.

The first round showed that both were past-masters of ring tactics.

Their wardings and layings for openings were so perfect that neither could get a blow in.

When they stopped for a moment to breathe the Englishman said with frank admiration:

"Y're a heap better lot than Hi thort yer. Where'd ye learn to handle yer dukes?"