CHAPTER III.
I Describe a Deadly Encounter--Am Congratulated as a Warrior With a Big "W"--The Chaplain Gives Good Advice--I Attend Surgeon's Call--Castor Oil out of a Dirty Bottle--Back to the Chaplain's Tent--I am Wounded in the Canteen.
The last chapter of this history left me facing my regiment, whichhad started out to hunt me up, after my terrible fight with thatConfederate. The colonel rode up to me and shook me by the hand,and congratulated me, and the major and adjutant said they had neverexpected to see me alive, and the soldiers looked at me as one returnedfrom the grave, and from what I could gather by the looks of the boys,I was something of a hero, even before I had told my story. The colonelasked me what had become of all the baggage I had on my saddle when Iwent away, and I told him that I had thrown ballast over-board all overthe Southern Confederacy, when I was charging the enemy, because I foundmy horse drew too much water for a long run. He said something about mybeing a Horse-Marine, and sent me back to my company, telling me thatwhen we got into camp that night he would send for me and I could tellthe story of my capture and escape. I rode back into my company, and younever saw such a change of sentiment towards a raw recruit, as therewas towards me, and they asked me questions about my first fight. Thecorporal who had placed me on picket, and stampeded at the first fire,was unusually gracious to me, and said when he saw a hundred and fiftyrebels come charging down the road, yelling and firing, he knew it wasno place for his small command, so he lit out. He said he supposed ofcourse I was shot all to pieces. I didn't tell him that it was me thatdid all the yelling, and that there was only one rebel, and that he wasperfectly harmless, but I told him that he miscalculated the number ofthe enemy, as there were, all told, at least five hundred, and that Ihad killed fourteen that I knew of, besides a number had been taken awayin ambulances, wounded. The boys opened their eyes, and nothing was toogood for me during that march. We went into camp in the pine woods latein the afternoon, and after supper the colonel sent for me, and I wentto his tent. All the officers were there, and as many soldiers as daredcrowd around. The colonel said the corporal had reported where he leftme, and how the enemy had charged in force, and he supposed that I hadbeen promptly killed. That he felt that he could not hold his positionagainst such immense odds, so he had fallen back slowly, firing as hedid so, until the place was too hot for him, and now he wanted to hearmy story. I told the colonel that I was new at the business, and maybe I did not use the best judgment in the world, by remaining to fightagainst such odds, but I meant well. I told him I did not wish tocomplain of the corporal, who no doubt was an able fighter, but it didseem to me that he ought at least to have waited till the battle hadactually commenced. I said that the first charge, which stampeded thecorporal and his men, was not a marker to what took place afterwards. Isaid when the enemy first appeared, I dismounted, got behind a tree, andpoured a murderous fire into the ranks of the rebels, and that they fellall around. I could not tell how many were killed, but probably ten,as I fired eleven shots from, my carbine, and I usually calculated onmissing one out of ten, when shooting at a mark. Then they fell back andI mounted my horse and rode to their right flank and poured it into themred hot from my revolver, and that I saw several fall from their horses,when they stampeded, and I drew my saber and charged them, and aftercutting down several, I was surrounded by the whole rebel army andcaptured. They tied me to the wheel of a gun carriage, and after tryingto pump me as to the number of men I had fighting against them, theyleft me to hold a council of war, when I untied myself, mounted myhorse, and cut my way out, and took to the woods. I apologized to thecolonel for running away from the enemy, but told him it seemed to me,after the number I had killed, and the length of time I had held them atbay, it was no more than right to save my own life, as I had use for itin my business. During my recital of the lie I had made up, the officersand soldiers stood around with mouths open, and when I had concluded mystory, there was silence for a moment, when the colonel stepped forwardand took me by the hand, and in a few well chosen remarks congratulatedme on my escape, and thanked me for so valiantly standing my groundagainst such fearful odds, and he said I had reflected credit upon myregiment, and that hereafter I would be classed as a veteran instead ofa recruit. He said he had never known a man to come right from the pathsof peace, and develop into a warrior with a big "W" so short a time. Theother officers congratulated me, and the soldiers said I was a bully boy.The colonel treated to some commissary whisky, and then the business ofthe evening commenced, which I found to be draw poker. I sat around forsome time watching the officers play poker, when the chaplain, who wasa nice little pious man, asked me to step outside the tent, as he wishedto converse with me. I went out into the moonlight with him, and hetook me away from the tents, under a tree, and told me he had been muchinterested in my story. I thanked him, and said I had been as brief aspossible. He said, "I was interested, because I used to be somethingof a liar myself, before I reformed, and studied for the ministry." Itoccurred to me that possibly the chaplain did not believe my simpletale, and I asked him if he doubted my story. "That is about the size ofit," says he. I told him I was sorry I had not told the story in sucha manner that he would believe it, because I valued the opinion of thechaplain above all others. He said he had known a good many star liarsin his time, some that had national reputations, but he had neverseen one that could hold a candle to me in telling a colossal lie, oraggregation of lies, and tell them so easy. I thanked him for his goodopinion, and told him that I flattered myself that for a recruit, rightfresh from the people, who had never had any experience as a militaryliar, I had done pretty well. He said I certainly had, and he was gladto make my acquaintance. I asked him to promise not to give it away tothe other officers, which he did, and then I told him the whole story,as it was, and that I was probably the biggest coward that everlived, and that I was only afraid that my story of blood-letting wouldencourage the officers to be constantly putting me into places ofdanger, which I did not want to be in. I told him I believed this warcould be ended without killing any more men, and cited the fact that Ihad been a soldier nearly forty-eight hours, and nobody had been killed,and the enemy was on the run. I told the chaplain that if there wasone thing I didn't want to see, it was blood. Others might have aninsatiable appetite for gore, but I didn't want any at all. I waswilling to do anything for this government but fight; and if he couldrecommend to me any line of action by which I could pull through withoutbeing sent out to do battle with strangers who could shoot well, Ishould consider it a favor. What I wanted was a soft job, where therewas no danger. The chaplain looked thoughtful a moment, and then took meover to his tent, where he opened a bottle of blackberry brandy. Hetook a small dose, after placing his hand on his stomach and groaning alittle. He asked me if I did not sometimes have a pain under my vest. Itold him I never had a pain anywhere. Then he said I couldn't have anybrandy. He said the brandy came from the sanitary commsssion, and wascontrolled entirely by the chaplains of the different regiments, and theinstructions were to only use it in case of sickness. He said a greatmany of the boys had pains regularly, and came to him for relief. Hesmacked his lips and said if I felt any pain coming on, to help myselfto the brandy. It is singular how a pain will sometimes come on whenyou least expect it. It was not a minute before I began to feel a smallpain, not bigger than a man's hand, and as I looked at the bottle thepain increased, and I had to tell the chaplain that I must have reliefbefore it was everlastingly too late, so he poured out a dose of brandyfor me. I could see that I was becoming a veteran very fast, as I couldwork the chaplain for sanitary stores pretty early in the game. Well,the chaplain and me had pains off and on, for an hour or two, and becamegood friends. He told me of quite a number of methods of shirking activeduty, such as being detailed to take care of baggage, acting as orderly,and going to surgeon's call. He said if a man went to surgeon's call,the doctor would report him sick, and he could not be sent out on duty.The next day we went back to our post, where the re
giment was stationed,and where they had barracks, that they wintered in, and remained thereseveral weeks, drilling. I was drilled in mounting and dismounting,and soon got so I could mount a horse without climbing on to him from afence. But the drill became irksome, and I decided to try the chaplain'ssuggestion about going to surgeon's call. I got in line with abouttwenty other soldiers, and we marched over to the surgeon's quarters. Isupposed the doctor would take each soldier into a private room, feel ofhis pulse, look at his tongue, and say that what he needed was rest, andgive him some powders to be taken in wafers, or in sugar. But all he didwas to say "What's the matter?" and the sick man would tell him, whenthe doctor would tell his assistant to give the man something, and passon to the next. I was the last one to be served, and the interview wasabout as follows:
Doc.--What's the matter?
Me--Bilious.
Doc.--Run out your tongue. Take a swallow out of the black bottle.
That seems very simple, indeed, but it nearly killed me. When he told meto run out my tongue, I run out perhaps six inches of the lower end ofit, the doctor glanced at it as though it was nothing to him anyway, andthen he told me to take a swallow out of the bottle. In all my life Ihad never taken four doses of medicine, and when I did the medicine wasdisguised in preserves or something. The hospital steward handed me thebottle that a dozen other sick soldiers had drank out of, and it wassticky all around the top, and contained something that looked likecastor oil, for greasing a buggy. He told me to take a good big swallow,and I tried to do so. Talk about the suffering brought on by the war, itseems to me nobody ever suffered as I did, trying to drink a swallowof that castor oil out of a two quart bottle, that was dirty. It run soslow that it seemed, an age before I got enough to swallow, and then itseemed another age before the oil could pass a given point in my neck.And great Caesar's ghost how it _did_ taste. I think it went down myneck, and I just had strength enough to ask the steward to give mesomething to take the taste out of my mouth. He handed me a blue pill.O, I could have killed him. I rushed to the chaplain's tent and took adrink of blackberry brandy, and my life was saved, but for three yearsafter that I was never sick enough to get farther than the chaplain'squarters.
Great Caesar's ghost how it did taste 049]
I suppose the meanest trick that was ever played on a raw recruit, wasplayed on me while we were in camp at that place. It seemed to methat some of the boys got jealous of me, because I had become a hero,accidentally. May be some of them did not believe I had killed as manyof the enemy as I had owned up to having killed. Anyway every littlewhile some soldier would say that he thought it was a mean man thatwould go out and kill a lot of rebels and not bury them. He said a manthat would do that was a regular pot-hunter, who killed game and left iton the ground to spoil. They made lots of such uncharitable remarks, butI did not pay much attention to to them. I had a tent-mate who took agreat interest in me, and he said no soldier's life was safe who did notwear a breast-plate, and he asked me if I did not bring any breast-platewith me. I told him I never heard of a breastplate, and asked him whatit was. He said it was a vest made of the finest spring steel, thatcould be worn under the clothes, which was so strong that a bullet couldnot penetrate it. He supposed of course I had one, when he heard of thefight I had, and said none of the old boys would go into a fight withoutone, as it covered the vital parts, and saved many a life. I bit likea bass. If there was anything I wanted more than a discharge, it was abreast-plate. If the chaplain should succeed in getting me a soft job,where there was no danger, I could get along without my breast-plate,but there was no sure thing about the chaplain, so I asked the soldierwhere I could get a breastplate. He said the quartermaster used to issuethem, but he didn't have any on hand now, but he said he knew wherethere was one that once belonged to a soldier who was killed, and hethought he could get it for me. I asked him how it happened that thesoldier was killed, when he had a breast-plate, and he told me theman was killed by eating green peaches. Of course I couldn't expect abreastplate to save me from the effects of eating unripe fruit, andI felt that if it would save me from bullets it would be worth all itcost, so I told the soldier to get it for me. That evening he brought itaround, and he helped me put it on. I learned afterwards that it was anold breast-plate that an officer had brought to the regiment when thewar broke out, and that it had been played on raw recruits for twoyears. After I had got it on, the soldier suggested that we go out withseveral other dare devils, and run the guard and go down town and playbilliards, and have a jolly time. I asked him if the guard would notshoot at us, and he said the guards would be all right, and if they didshoot they would shoot at the breast-plates, as all the boys had themon. So about six of us sneaked through the guards, went to town and hada big time, and came back along towards morning, each with a canteen ofwhisky. It was not easy getting back inside the lines, as the moon wasshining, but we got by the guards, and then my friends suggested that wetake our breast-plates off and put them on behind us, as the guards, ifthey shot at all, would be firing in our rear. I took mine off and putit on behind my pants, and just then somebody fired a gun, and the boyssaid "run," and I started ahead, and the firing continued, and aboutevery jump I could hear and feel something striking my breast-platebehind, which seemed to me to be bullets, and I was glad I had thebreast-plate on, though afterwards I found that the boys behind me werefiring off their revolvers in the air, and throwing small stones at mybreast-plate. Presently a bullet, as I supposed, struck me in the backabove the breast-plate, and I could feel blood trickling down my back,and I knew I was wounded. O, I hankered for gore, before enlisting, andwhile editing a paper, and now I had got it, got gore till I couldn'trest. The blood run down my side, down my leg, into my boot, and I couldfeel I was wading in my own blood. And great heaven's, how it did smell.I had never smelled blood before, that I knew of, and I thought it hadthe most peculiar, pungent, intoxicating odor. I ran towards my quartersas fast as possible, fainting almost, from imaginary loss of blood, andfinally rushed into my tent, threw myself on my bunk and called loudlyfor the doctor and chaplain, and then I fainted. When I came to I wassurrounded by the doctor, and a lot of the boys, all laughing, andthe chaplain was trying to say something pious, while trying to keepa straight face. "Have you succeeded in staunching the blood, doc?" Iasked, in a trembling voice. He said the blood was quite staunch, butthe whisky could never be saved. I did not know what he meant, and Iturned to the chaplain and asked him if he wouldn't be kind enough tosay something appropriate to the occasion. I told him I had been a badman, had lied some, as he well knew, and had been guilty of things thatwould bar me out of the angel choir, but that if he had any influence atthe throne of grace, and could manage to sneak me in under the canvassanyway, he could have the balance of my bounty, and all the pay thatmight be coming to me. The chaplain held up the breast-plate that hadbeen removed by kind hands, from the back portion of my person, and saidI had better take that along with me, as it would be handy to wearwhen I wanted to stand with my back to the fire in hades. I could notunderstand why the good man should joke me, on my death bed, and Irolled over with my back to the wall, to weep, unobserved, and I feltthe blood sticking to my clothes and person, and I asked the doctor whyhe did not dress my wound. He said he should have to send the woundto the tin-shop to be dressed, and then they all laughed. This made meindignant, and I turned over and faced the crowd, and asked them if theyhad no hearts, that they could thus mock at a dying man. The doctor heldup my canteen with a hole in it, made by a stone thrown by one of mycompanions, and said, "You d----d fool, you are not wounded. Somebodybusted your canteen, and the whiskey run down your leg and into yourboot, and you, like an idiot, thought it was your life blood ebbingaway. Couldn't you tell that it was whiskey by the smell?" I felt ofmyself, where I thought I was wounded, and couldn't find any hole, andthen I took off my boot, and emptied the whisky out, and felt stronger,and finally I got up, and the boys went away laughing at me, leaving thechaplain, who was kind enough to tell me that of
all the raw recruitsthat had ever come to the regiment, he thought I was the biggest idiotof the lot, to let the boys play that ancient breast-plate and canteenjoke on me. I asked him if the boys didn't all wear breast-plates, andhe said "naw!" He told me that was the only breast-plate in the wholeDepartment of the Gulf, and it was kept to play on recruits, and that Imust keep it until a new recruit came that was green enough to allow theboys to do him up. So I hid the breast-plate under my bunk, and wentto bed and tried to dream out some method of getting even with mypersecutors, while the chaplain went out, after offering to hold himselfin readiness, day or night, to come and pray for me, if I was wounded inthe canteen any more.