of Company D until his native state seceded from the Union, when he resigned his commission, and joined the Confederacy. There, I have been told, he became a brigadier general and lost a leg during the war. I remember Captain Gardner with the kindest of feelings, and I am grateful to him for special acts of kindness and indulgence. He never was harsh or hasty to me, and often he gave me good advice, which to my regret I did not always follow.
We had a mild winter at Carlisle, as I have said, and spring opened early. In May it was warm enough to bathe in the deep holes of the small creek, near the garrison, and we often enjoyed swimming in a river some miles away. There was a large cave in that vicinity into which we often went for the pleasure of shouting and hearing the echoes. The country was beautiful. There were large farms, with prosperous-looking houses. I never tired of wandering about on the good roads that stretched in all directions.
I found much amusement in watching the drilling of the raw recruits of the Tenth Infantry, for we of the Second considered ourselves trained soldiers now and laughed at their awkwardness as others had probably laughed at us.
A certain Irish sergeant had a most peculiar way of his own of elucidating the tactics to the recruits, and often lost his temper when things were done wrong. One day, after he had patiently explained and demonstrated to his squad that, when given the command, "Forward march," each man must step off with his left foot, about half of the squad advanced the right foot.
"Didn't I tell y'es the roight fut's not the roight fut?" he shouted. "The lift fut's the roight fut."
Sometimes it happened that some inattention of the instructor himself would cause amusement when drilling some of the larger squads in marching. At the command "By the right flank, right face, forward march," one-half of the squad misunderstanding the command, would face to the left, and march on until brought up against a fence or other obstruction. At the same time the other half marched with the instructor at their flank in the opposite direction, until he commanded, "Halt, front face," and discovered the missing half on the other side of the parade ground "marking time," and waiting for a command.
An old soldier of my company named Coffey was married and had several children. One of them was called "Kitty." She was a little freckled-faced four-year-old who had the most astonishing red hair that I ever saw. Kitty had a roving disposition, and wandered all over the garrison, and into the soldiers' quarters. Everyone played with her, and she was a general favorite. She loved the soldiers, and the only way we could make her go home was to say to her, "Kitty your hair's on fire, run home and tell your mother." Kitty would then scamper off crying.
She dearly loved to hear the band play, and often got in the way on the parade ground. One day at guard mounting, Lieutenant O'Connoll, of my company, who had a keen sense of humor, was acting as adjutant. He was about to march the guard in review, when he discovered Kitty directly in front of the band, gazing at them with admiration. He changed the customary words of command to "Column forward, guide right—Kitty Coffey get out of the way—March!" all in the same tone of voice.
I have seen Lieutenant O'Connoll, a big raw-boned, black-whiskered Pennsylvanian, whom we learned to like in spite of his very forcible language, fly into such a passion at drill that he would plunge his sword into the ground half way up to the hilt and hold up his hands in despair, vigorously berating the company for some false movement. Sometimes, however, he would laud them when they did their work well.
About the first of June, 1855, orders arrived for the immediate departure of the four companies of the Second Infantry stationed at Carlisle to Fort Pierre on the Missouri River in Nebraska Territory. We were to form a part of the Sioux Expedition, under Brigadier General William S. Harney, for the purpose of chastising one of the tribes of the Sioux nation, who nearly a year before had massacred Lieutenant John L. Grattan, and his escort of twenty-one soldiers, who had been sent out from Fort Laramie to hold a parley with them. As the Government had but a handful of soldiers at Laramie, vengeance had to be delayed until a sufficient number of troops from our small army could be gathered for the purpose.
General Harney had been made leader of the expedition because he was an old experienced Indian fighter, known and feared by many of the Indians. We made our preparations quickly, paid some farewell visits in the town and in a day or two were ready to start as soon as transportation could be provided.
I had some regrets at leaving Carlisle Barracks, where I had experienced none of the ennui of a soldier's life, but had thoroughly enjoyed myself. I think, however, that my regrets were more than counter-balanced by the prospect of new scenes far away from civilization in a country inhabited only by savages, and which at that time had been but imperfectly explored.
PART III.
Journey from Carlisle to Fort Pierre, Nebraska Territory in 1855.
Companies A, D, G and I left Carlisle Barracks about the first week in June, 1855. We formed on the parade ground for the last time on a Saturday afternoon in full marching order, our haversacks filled with three days' rations of hard bread and boiled salt pork. At the command of Col. Abercrombie we started off in a quick step, the band playing alternately, "The Girl I Left Behind Me" and "The Bold Soldier Boy," both old-fashioned tunes that it was customary to play on such occasions. We marched past the guard-house where the officer of the day and guard of the Tenth Infantry saluted us with a "Present arms."
We passed down the road to a point on the railroad track leading into the town where a special train awaited us on a siding. The train was made up of a few baggage cars, a passenger car with upholstered seats for the officers, and "emigrant cars" with bare wooden seats, for the enlisted men and the wives and children of the married soldiers. None of the officers' wives and children went with us; two years or more elapsed before they saw them again.
Lieut. Sweeney of my company was left behind, detailed for some special duty. Capt. Gardner and Lieut. O'Connell, both bachelors, were with the company. The last farewells were said, and amid tears and cheers from some of the soldiers of the Tenth Infantry and the citizens from the town, we started on our long journey.
I had a seat at a car window and was greatly interested in the constantly changing scenery. We had to go back to Harrisburg to get to the main line to Pittsburgh. Traveling by railroad was slow at that time, particularly so in our case as we had to keep out of the way of passenger trains. We put in a bad night on the hard seats and in the morning were at Altoona, where hot coffee was brought into the cars and served to us from milk cans. Arrangements had been made to give us coffee two or three times per day while en route.
We made slow progress over the Allegheny Mountains, sometimes having an extra locomotive to push us along, and it was late Sunday afternoon when we reached Pittsburgh. We had to change trains here, and as we marched through the streets to another depot, a crowd of people followed us. There were four companies with a band and colors, probably more regular soldiers than they had ever seen at one time before. We were delayed a long time at the depot; but finally we started, and after another miserable night on the hard seats, we left the cars in the morning, crossed a river on a ferryboat and were in Toledo, Ohio. Stacking arms in one of the streets, we sat on the curb stones and ate our meager breakfast of hard bread and pork, together with hot coffee served in our quart tin cups.
A crowd of citizens watched us with interest. They asked many questions and made remarks, some not very complimentary to our appearance. We had been two nights on the dusty cars with no opportunity to wash ourselves or to clean our clothing. I remember overhearing a stylish young lady say to her dudish escort, "Oh! John, see how dirty they are and look at the big shoes they wear."
We waited for some hours and then left for Chicago on another train. Next morning, stiff and sore from our cramped seats, we were outside of Chicago on the Illinois prairies, going south towards Alton on the Mississippi. During this third night on the cars, as many as could find room lay down on their blankets in the passage-way, securing a few hours of fitful sleep at the risk of being stepped on.
Towns and villages were far apart