also, which are all necessary to the soldier.
"By order of Lieutenant-Colonel P. St. George Cooke.
[Signed.] "P. C. Merrill, Adjutant."
It is stated by Sergeant Daniel Tyler, in his "History of the Mormon Battalion," that February 4th was the date of the reading of the order. Its spirit and tone were an agreeable surprise to us, as the general tenor of the colonel's course had been so different, apparently, that we did not look for him to do the battalion justice. Yet if he had been less stern and decisive, it would have been worse for us. We had stern realities to deal with, consequently like means were necessary to overcome the obstacles we had to contend with. It required push and vim to enable the battalion to perform the heroic deeds demanded of it, and a sympathy that would have caused the men to shrink back instead of seeing that every one stood to his post of duty would have been a fatal error. After all, Col. P. St. George Cooke was a good military commander, maintaining excellent military discipline; and for one the writer feels to say, Peaceful be his sleep.
It was about the 4th or 5th of February when we got back to the mission, and the order given, with others, was made known. The other orders included such directions as to trim the hair so that none came below the tip of the ear, and shave the beard all but the mustache.
We were informed that we had no right to think in acting for ourselves—that the government paid men to think for us, and it was our duty to obey orders. We were allowed very little time in which to wash our rags and hunt down the insects that had waged a continuous warfare on us all the way from Albuquerque or the Rio Grande del Norte to the coast; yet we turned on the creeping foe, and never relented till we routed him, nor showed any quarter till the last one was gone. We also had to repel an attack from the nimble flea in great numbers, in which we realized that this impudent insect did not care where he hit.
While we were still living on beef alone, without pepper or salt, we were ordered out on squad drill, which seemed to continue about eight hours per day. The reason given for this was the supposed threatened attack from eight hundred Californians in the mountains; and further, the rumors that Col. John C. Fremont, with eight hundred or a thousand men, claimed it was his right, and not Gen. Kearney's, to dictate to the United States forces in California. In fact, it was reported that Col. Fremont was in open hostility to Gen. Kearney, who was military governor of California by orders from Washington. Under these circumstances, we were kept in constant readiness, not knowing the moment we would be called into active service.
Our training daily was one hour for each pound of beef issued, the beef costing less than a cent a pound to the government. Sergeant Tyler says our rations were five pounds a day, and I say it was not half enough, for we were ravenously hungry all the time. If the reader doubts this, let him try the ration for a little while, and doubt will disappear.
About February 25 we obtained bolted flour and some other supplies of provisions that had been brought from the Sandwich Islands, by Major Sward, to San Diego, and thence to San Luis del Rey by mule team. In the meantime we had received a small amount of unbolted flour, brought by Lieutenant Oman and a small detachment of the battalion sent out for the purpose. Then the beef rations were reduced; so that during the whole twelve months' service we did not once have issued to us the full rations allowed by the government to the American soldier—if we had full rations in one thing, another was lacking. Either the government made a great saving from regulations in feeding us, or a steal put money into some contractors' pockets.
Day after day the duties of soldier were performed, drilling, out on detached duty, or marching here, there and everywhere, early and late, by day and by night, just to suit the fancy of some of our officers, and not always upon real occasion for the movements. It would seem that in many respects the soldier's life is much like a faithful wife's; and in others much unlike a woman's work. Like hers, in that the task seems never done, busy all day and up at every hour of night in response to calls of first one child, then another, or even to the exploits of some mischievous cat, her rest broken and her life worn away; unlike hers, in that she usually has a dry shelter, regular meals, and a place to lie down when she can rest, while the soldier in time of war never knows where he will make his bed at night, often is without food and drink, having to move at the word of command over deserts, rocks, mountains, plains and rivers—a stranger to the locality he may call his home. But the toils of both are necessary, she to rear the nation's pride and strength—a soldier in the right; he to protect her and himself, to defend their country's rights and avenge her wrongs.
Returning to the narrative of garrison duty, it appeared to me the hours of drill were more than Sergeant Tyler's account will admit of; but I shall not dispute with him, as I write from memory. I do recall that roll call came at daylight, sick call at 7:30 a.m., breakfast call at 8:40, drill at 10 a.m. and 3 p.m. roll call at sundown, tattoo at 8:30, and taps at 9 p.m., after which lights must be out except in case of sickness. All must be silent then, as the men are supposed to have retired for the night.
On or near the 20th of March, companies A, C, D and E took up their journey to the Puebla de Los Angeles. We traveled over a hilly country, where there were numerous herds of cattle and bands of horses. In some places we passed down to and along the sandy beach around big bluffs over which, so we were told, the Californians, some years previously, had driven thousands of horses and cattle to rid the country of them, as they had overrun the place so that all were suffering for food. This story seemed confirmed by the great amount of bones that we saw among the rocks and sands at the foot of deep declivities along the seashore.
On the way to Los Angeles we passed a stone church that had been badly shaken; the walls had been good mason work, but now were mostly broken down. We were told that an earthquake did the damage, and that some three hundred people had been killed. On by the San Gabriel River we went, arriving at Los Angeles in about four days' march from where we had started out. We marched into the main street and stacked our arms as if to say, "We have possession here."
Most of the citizens stood aloof, looking as if the cause they had supported was lost, but soon the merchants brought out buckets of whisky and wine, which they set before the command, inviting us to help ourselves. Some accepted the invitation rather freely, while others refrained from touching the beverages. We returned to the river at night, and camped. In a day or two we were marched about two miles up the stream, and above the town, where we again ran out of provisions and had to go hungry; nor did we break our fast till 11 a.m. next day.
At this time the air was full of alarming rumors. A revolt of Californians was talked of; then it was Fremont who was said to be in rebellion against General Kearney's authority; and again, a powerful band of Indians was ready to pounce down upon us. It was not very unexpectedly, therefore, that we received orders to occupy the most commanding point overlooking the town. Soon after this we learned that a supply of provisions for the command had been landed at San Pedro, about twenty-one miles distant, and teams and wagons were sent at once, under an escort of soldiers, the writer being one. We returned next day, heavily loaded.
About this date, the command began the erection of a fort, or rather began to throw up earthworks. Lieutenant Rosecranz was ordered with a small detachment to Cajon Pass, a narrow opening in the Sierra Nevada range, about eighty miles east of us. The object was to guard the pass against the advance of any foe, for, as has been said, there were many rumors of impending danger. In a short time, Lieutenant Pace, with twenty-nine officers and men of the battalion—the writer being one of the number—received orders to relieve the detachment of Lieutenant Rosecranz. Pace's command had just reached the Rosecranz party, finding the latter in the act of striking camp, when a dispatch came by pony express ordering us to return as well.
On our march out, the wild cattle, which were there by thousands, became excited and began to bellow and crowd toward us. We could see them for miles coming on the run. They closed in quickly until we were surrounded by them on three sides, with a deep gulch or very brushy ravine on the fourth. We retreated in double-quick time to this gulch, and were compelled to remain in what shelter it afforded until the next day, before we could pass on in safety.
The unsettled state of the country kept us constantly busy. Our fort was pushed to completion, and we having obtained what artillery Colonel Fremont had, the twelve or fifteen pieces now in our possession were placed