Si Klegg Experiences Of Si And Shorty On The Great Tullahoma Campaign Part 8

"Sir, I have the honor to report that I have been across the creek reconnoitering the enemy's lines. I have with me five prisoners four soldiers and one guerrilla."

CHAPTER VI. DISTRESSING ENEMIES

OTHER THAN THE REBELS AND RAIN, MUD, AND SWOLLEN STREAMS.

SI WOKE up early the next morning with a savage exclamation.

"I declare, I'm all on fire," he said. "Some thing's just eating me up. I believe I've got a million graybacks on me."

[Ill.u.s.tration: I'M ALL ON FIRE 77]

"Same here, Si," said Shorty. "Never knowed 'em to be so bad. Seem to 've just got in from a march, and are chawin' three days' rations out o' me every minute. I'd 'a' thought they'd all 've bin drowned from the duckin' they've bin havin' for the past five days, but it only seems to 've sharpened their teeth and whetted their appet.i.tes. They've all come to dinner, and invited their friends."

"Where in the world could they have all come from?" meditated Si. "We wuz certainly clean of 'em when we started out six days ago."

"O, the rebels skipped out in sich a hurry," ex plained Shorty, "that they even dropped their house hold pets, which we inherited as we follered 'em up. I wish this infernal rain'd let up long enough for us to do some skirmishin' and bile our clothes. Or if the sun'd only come out an hour or two, we could find an ant-hill, an' lay our clothes on it. I don't know any little thing that I enjoy more on a pleasant day when we've bin a long march and got mighty 'crumby, than to pull off my shirt and lay it on a lively ant-hill, and light my pipe and set there and watch the busy ants collar its inhabitants and carry 'em off to fill up their smoke-houses with Winter meat."

He put his hand meditatively into his bosom as he spoke. As he withdrew it he looked down and exclaimed:

"Jehosephat, it's fleas, too. Just look there. I'm alive with fleas."

"Same here," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Si, who had made a similar discovery. "Just look at 'em, hoppin' out every where. The rebels have not only set their grayback infantry on to us, but are jumping us with their flea cavalry."

"If you call the graybacks infantry and the fleas cavalry, what in the world do you call these, Si?" said Shorty, who had made still another discovery, and was pointing to his wrists and ankles, where rows of gorged ticks, looking like drops of fresh blood, encircled his limbs.

"Them's heavy artillery," answered Si; "and, Great Scott, I've got more of 'em on me than you have. And there's some just back of your ears, Shorty. Be careful, Shorty. Don't touch 'em. Le' me work 'em off. Be awful careful. If you break their heads off they'll stay in and make a sore that'll almost never get well."

They looked down the lines of men who, like themselves, had been rudely awakened from their slumber on wet beds by "the pestilence that walketh by night." There were howls, yells, oaths and imprecations from everybody. Officers forgot their carefully-maintained dignity, and were as vociferous and profane as the men.

Many were stripped, and trying to singe their wet clothes over the smoldering fires. Many were even trying to subdue the pests by thrashing their garments in the cold water of the creek.

"'Bout as much use as a General Order from Army Headquarters would be agin the varmints," said Shorty, as he watched their futile labors.

"Say, you fellers," he called out to them; "why don't you repeat the Ten Commandments to 'em? Or sing the doxology? It'll do just as much good as sloshing your duds around in the water. The water only makes 'em savager'n ever. You ought to know that from experience."

By the happy thought of gently touching the gorged wood-ticks with the point of a pin Si and Shorty had gotten rid of those plagues, heads and all, so as to leave no apprehension as to future sores. They communicated this method to their afflicted comrades, and then turned their attention to the other parasites.

"I guess I'll just go down to the Surgeon's tent and git a pound of angwintum," said Shorty, "and rub myself from head to foot with it.

That's the only thing I know of that'll do the least good."

"Mustn't do that," objected Si. "Put angwintum on you and get wet, and you'll be salivated. You ought to know that."

"I don't care," said Shorty desperately. "I'd rather be salivated till my teeth drop out and my hair falls off than be carried off in large chunks by fleas and graybacks. Come along."

"Mebbe the Surgeon has something else that'll pizen these little cusses," said Si, falling in with his comrade.

They found a clamorous group around the Surgeon's tent, asking for "angwintum (mercurial ointment) or anything else that would alleviate their torments. The worried Surgeon was scratching himself as he explained to the Colonel:

"It seems to me, 'Colonel, that the rising water has concentrated all these parasites on the higher ground over which we have come. This is the only way in which I can account for their severe visitation upon us.

The parasites seem to have the same instinct to gather on elevated spots when the water is rising that other animals have, and we have consequently gathered up four or five times as many, to say the least, as we should otherwise have gotten. But you don't know the worst of it yet. You see those men? They have sore feet. But it isn't ordinary sore feet. They've got chiggers in their feet."

"Chiggers. What are they?" asked the Colonel.

"Chiggers, jiggers, chigoes pulex penetrans," answered the Surgeon.

"They are a great pest in the tropics, where the people go barefooted and do not take any care of their feet. This is the first time that I have ever heard of them being so far north. But there is no doubt about their being chiggers. They burrow in under the skin, and cause a great deal of suffering. Some of the men's hands and fingers are also affected by them. They are terrible things to deal with when they once get the start. If this thing goes on, not a man in the regiment will be able to walk a step."

"What can be done?" gasped the Colonel, gripping for a flea in his bosom.

"Nothing," answered the Surgeon, smashing an insect on the back of his hand, "except to issue a stringent order that the men must take special care of their feet and hands."

"Humph," said the Colonel, scornfully, as he caught a bug on his wrist; "much sense in an order of that kind, when the men have to wade through mud and water 18 hours out of 24, and then sleep in it the other six. Is that the best you can suggest? Is that all your conscience has to offer?

Remember that you are responsible for the efficiency of the men on this great campaign, upon which the safety of the country depends. It will be a severe reflection upon you if you allow them to be broken down by a few insects."

"Great Pharaoh and Moses," responded the Surgeon irritably, as he grabbed for "a bite" on his throat. "Here we are, confronted with a condition of things like the curses which G.o.d Almighty sent against the Egyptians, and you expect me to manage it with quinine and epsom salts.

It can't be done, Colonel."

"Isn't there anything that you can suggest or recommend that will mitigate this trouble?" said the Colonel in a more conciliatory manner, for he had just succeeded in crushing a tormentor. "Certainly, there must be something in your pharmacopeia which will at least r.e.t.a.r.d these infernal vermin from eating my men alive. Can't you at least check them a little until we can get through the campaign? Then the men can be trusted to take care of themselves." And the Colonel made a swoop for a particularly vicious flea which was banqueting on the lobe of his ear.

"I never set up as a sharp on parasites," said the Surgeon, running down a "small deer" inside his collar; "but I remember to have read that an application of tobacco-juice is about as effective a preventive of insect bites as can be found."

"That'll do; that'll do," said Shorty triumphantly, as he and Si started back to their places to act at once on the Surgeon's suggestion. "Just the thing. Tobacker'll kill 'em deader than small-beer. Why didn't I think about it before?"

Shorty had some strong black plug tobacco. He cut this up into small pieces, while Si found an old tin can, into which they were put, and then the can filled up with boiling water.

"Let's make her good and strong, Si," said Shorty, putting in some more tobacco; "for the fellers are sock-dolagers, and it will take a horse dose to kill 'em. They'll just enjoy a little taste o' terbacker. Make it strong enough to bear up an aig. Now, let's git our clothes off while it's coolin' down. You drench me, and I'll drench you, and we'll salivate these gallinippers in a way that'll surprise 'em."

The surprise seemed to be mostly on the other side. Shorty's skin was raw from head to foot from the depredations of the various tribes of "epizoa," as the physicians generalize them. He gave a yell that could be heard through the whole regiment as the acrid, biting tobacco-juice struck a thousand little punctures in his skin inside of a second.

Everybody rushed up to see what was the matter, and stood around, laughing and commenting, while scratching and slapping at their own colonies of tormentors. Then Shorty began the most vehement stream of profanity, and showered maledictions on everything in the State of Tennessee, which was only a breeding place for fleas, woodticks, jiggers, graybacks, n.i.g.g.e.rs, rebels, traitors, bushwhackers, guerrillas, thieves, robbers and murderers, and other sp.a.w.n of Jeff Davisism.

Presently he grew violently sick at the stomach, turned deathly white, and fainted. Frightened, Si rushed for the Surgeon.

"Only tobacco poisoning," said the latter, after he had looked Shorty over carefully. "You made that solution too strong, and the lot of little punctures took it directly into his circulation. You might have killed him if you had made it stronger, or got more of it on him. I never saw such rapscallions as you boys are. You are always trying to kill yourselves or one another, in spite of all that I can do or tell you. A man that's Surgeon of this regiment has to earn his money, I tell you. He will come out all right pretty soon, only he will be very weak.

I'll send you down some whisky to give him."

"Real old rye, Doctor?" said Shorty, very faintly, and opening his eyes feebly. "None of your Commissary stuff. This is a powerful bad case, and I need the best."

"You shall have it," laughed the Surgeon. "I know you. You are all right when you are all right. But you won't be able to march with the column to-day. I'll give you an excuse from duty. And you (to Si) had better stay with him. I'll speak to your Captain."

The bugles were sounding the "a.s.sembly" every where, and the men, slapping and scratching as if they would tear their flesh and their clothes off, were hastily swallowing their last mouthfuls of hot coffee and bread and pork, s.n.a.t.c.hing up their guns and blankets and falling in.

"Shelbyville is only six miles away," said the Orderly-Sergeant as he lined up Co. Q, and clawed around his clothes at his persecutors.

"There'll be a circus to-day, and no postponement on account o' the weather. It'll either be the gol-darnedest fight that the 200th Injianny Volunteers ever got into or the cussedest foot-race that ever wuz run.

Here, Biles, consarn you, leave that fire and your munching, and fall in. You're like a cow's tail always behind."

Shorty made a violent effort to rise up and join the company, but he was manifestly too weak. Si was in sore distress. He didn't want to leave him, but he was anxious to be with his company.

"Corporal Klegg," said the Captain, coming down the line, and giving a frequent furtive scratch at himself, "Shorty can't possibly go with us to-day. I'm awfully sorry, but there is no use talking about it.

You must stay behind and take care of him, and take care of these sore-footed men who will be unable to keep up. The Colonel orders you to command the whole outfit. You keep them together, keep up as well as you can, and if you see any place that you can be useful, go in. I know and the Colonel knows that you can be trusted to do that."