CHAPTER VIII.

THE FIRST REGIMENT AT NINTH AND D STREETS.

ON receiving the order to go into camp the regiment was formed at the east end of the depot and marched down the tracks to Ninth and D streets, where we were met by the baggage wagons conveying our camp outfit, tents, knapsacks, etc., from the Capitol grounds, which were henceforth occupied only by the 6th and 8th regiments.

Headquarters were quickly established on the grounds of a vacant house occupying the northwest corner of Ninth and D streets, and the order to establish camp given. Now every thing became a scene of confusion. Willing hands soon unloaded the baggage-wagons and men from each company carried the rolled tents to the ground they were to respectively occupy. Now did the rule of “taking” as established by that king of vandals, Clifford, again come into use. Far-seeing men of the Jack Wilson and Sam Wise type, scenting a chance for plunder, generously offered their services to that greatly worried individual Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald. Thankfully accepting the extraordinary offer, he set them to work carrying the commissary stores, including a great many boxes of pears and plums, into the vacant building in rear of the headquarters. On this fruit, it soon appeared, had Wilson and Wise and their cohorts cast an evil eye. Thus does it now appear, though, in justice to these skillful foragers, itshould be admitted that they offered very plausible excuses when, a few hours later, a dozen or so boxes of fruit were found carefully stowed away in their tents. It was now plain that “Every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost” had become a well-established rule.

BIRD’S EYE VIEW OF FIRST REGIMENT CAMP, NINTH AND D STREETS, SACRAMENTO, CAL.

The work of raising the tents went busily forward. On account of the narrowness of the road company street formation was used, giving each company a separate street of four tents on each side; the first tents on the left of the street being occupied by the captain and lieutenants. By this means simply the road was used, the sidewalk being left open.

True it is that campaigning sharpens the wits. On every occasion that one man thought to gain an advantage over his fellows he was sure to find others carefully watching the same opportunity. Thus it was on the Capitol grounds when one tent crowd thought to carry off an old torn tent to use as a floor cloth, but found it necessary to have a rough and tumble fight with every other tent crowd on the street before they secured the coveted prize. And so it was at our new camp. We had no sooner seen the ground on which we were to camp than we knew hay would arrive to be used as beds, four bales for each company. Men from B began to lay in wait for the hay, with the laudable object in view of capturing an extra bale or so. They found men of the other companies equally alert, however. The hay soon arrived, and in spite of the efforts of Major Jansen, who tried to see even-handed justice done, the bales first from one side and then from the other walked off in the most mysterious manner. On taking stock after the scramble, it was found that B, through the agency of Flanagan, McCulloch, Murphy, and O’Brien, had become the proud possessors of six life-sized bales, which were quickly cut up and distributed in order to avoid discovery. Suspicion was also averted by sending the meek and lowly Bannan down toward the now empty wagon to “raise a kick” for more hay.

The work of building the canvas city on Ninth street was soon completed. At this place Ninth street had but one open end, at its crossing with D the railroad track built upon the levee, which is here about twelve feet above the street, cutting off the block at about C street. The tents of C company, having the left of the second battalion, were pitched close to this embankment, the others running out towards D street in the order of their positions in the battalions.

The large building mentioned before, on the grounds of which the headquarters tents had been pitched was taken possession of the hospital corps in front and the commissary department in the rear.

This house, though large and apparently well built, appeared to have been vacant for a year or two at the least; and it was not long before the irrepressible Doc Sieberst, in the course of his wanderings after adventure, learned (it is alleged from the members of the Japanese mission across the street who sang so sweetly night and morning), that this self-same house was haunted. This set his fertile brain at work, and he appeared on B street a few minutes later with the light of genius shining from his eyes, such as beams out upon us when he holds us spellbound by his wonderful rendition of that classic German poem “Schneider’s Ride.” Gathering his “heelers,” musical and otherwise, around him, he explained his discovery and the use to which it was to be put. As the dusk of evening fell o’er our quiet canvas city, marshalled forward to the fence in full view of headquarters, with outstretched arms and pointing fingers, we roared as in the Bells of Corneville,

“That house is haunt-ed,“That house is haunt-ed,“That house is haunt-ed, ted, ted, ted, ted, ted.“That house is haunt-ed,“That house is haunt-ed,“That house is haunt-ed, ted, ted, ted.”

“That house is haunt-ed,

“That house is haunt-ed, ted, ted, ted, ted, ted.

“That house is haunt-ed,

“That house is haunt-ed, ted, ted, ted.”

The effect was said to have been beautiful, tho’ it must be confessed we did not wait to investigate; we had pressing business elsewhere.

We knew, when the brigade was placed under the command of Colonel Graham at the railroad yards, that our longed-for chance for active service had come. Colonel Graham was too well known for us to imagine for a moment that our idle days would continue. And he proved us right; for on this first day at the new camp he called for a detail from the First to relieve that of the regulars at the American river bridge, about four miles northeast of our camp. Later on, on account of the large number of men from the regiment on duty each day as track and train and bridge guards, our colonel found it best to send to each place details composed entirely of men from one company. On this occasion, however, the guard was made up of details from the different companies. B’s detail was composed of Corporal McCulloch, Privates Heeth, Heizman, McKaig, O’Brien, and Keane, and detailed from the hospitalcorps, as medical assistant, Dr. Tom McCulloch. A great deal of interest centered round this guard, as, in heavy marching order, it formed in front of headquarters under charge of First Lieutenant Eggert of F. Amongst the enlisted men it was not known what duty was to be assigned to it. The men on the guard joshed the unlucky ones, who gathered round watching the preparations and trying to catch an idea of its destination. Supper had not yet been served, so, standing in line, while Quartermaster Cluff and Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald filled their canteens with black coffee and their haversacks with crackers, the men munched greedily on canned corned beef sandwiches, by calling the which “ham,” they succeeded in swallowing.

While this hasty meal was going on, much advice, good and bad, though generous, was offered by the facetious private, who stood with his hands deep in his pockets, his head cocked on the side, and his campaign hat hanging on by a few stiff hairs in back, as he viewed his comrades with the critical eye he intended to use whenhebecame colonel. He kept a close watch on Adjutant Williams, however, as he shouted out his advice to “Shoot first, and then challenge.” “Keep ’im covered ’till you can find out what the papers will say, Bill.” “Gimme a lock of yer hair, Tommy”? or “If you get a chance, give ’em one for us, boys.” The men on the guard simply grinned in answer as they ate their scanty supper, feeling the superiority of their position. The guard, having finished the meal, was marched to the tracks on the levee above the camp, where they were placed on a train composed of a flat-car in front and a day-coach in rear of an engine, and were whirled off down the track toward the American River.

This guard having been dispatched, another detail was called for from each company, and a guard formed and placed on duty at the lower end of the yards.

The detail from B for this guard consisted of Corporal Wilson and Privates Overstreet, Perry, Powleson, Radke R., Radke G., Sindler, Shula, and Sieberst.

The work demanded of this guard was decidedly onerous. They had several hundred yards of track to guard, all closely crowded with fruit-cars. The beats of the sentries, too, were none of the safest. These, with but one or two exceptions, lay between the crowded lines of cars, dark as a pocket at night, and very little better during the day.

The practice firing of the Eighth Regiment, which so aroused the American river bridge guard, startled these men as well, Privates Perry and Shula, ever ready in an emergency, mounting to the top of a box-car, and threatening to shoot the first man who showed his head above the bushes in the marsh which stretched away for a mile north to the river. Luckily, however, they were not called upon for an exhibition of their prowess.

The work of pitching camp being finished, and the excitement over the departure of their comrades having subsided, our hungry soldiers, as is ever the case when at a loss for other amusement, turned their attention to their appetites, which, on investigation, they found to be quite keen. It was generally known on leaving the Capitol grounds that company mess was to be established, and soon eager voices were heard inquiring about supper. The meal served that night was one long to be remembered. A meal prepared under a combination of disadvantages rarely brought together on one occasion. Everything was confusion, and kicking, growling, and general dissatisfaction reigned supreme. The aching void felt by each lusty trencher-man urged him to lend his individual presence, and the aid of his voice in adding to the confusion, and causing greater delay. Our quartermaster was heard to remark that he received enough punishment that night to counterbalance all the “snaps he ever had.”

The commissary department was not yet ready to issue rations and would not be until 7 o’clock. Some of the companies had bought food, prepared a meal, and were eating before B had a sign of supper in sight. This was soon discovered by our hungry warriors, and the wail of anguish that went up in B street was heartrending. Captain Cook was, of course, immediately notified, and getting on one of his proverbial moves, he went to the quartermaster to learn why the other companies were eating and B. still waiting. The quartermaster explained; and then, resolving to make another effort to save the lives of his starving comrades, who had not even yet ceased to make inquiries about that supper that was not, started for the commissary department to see if it were possible to get any thing to appease the appetites of those hungry mortals of Company B. Presently loud words in the direction of the commissary department, accompanied by a rattle of tinware, attracted the attention of every one.Inquiry as to the cause elicited the fact that B’s quartermaster was trying to “take” a ham, and, being caught, tried to argue the point with Commissary Fitz, but was finally forcibly ejected.

A GROUP OF FIELD AND STAFF OFFICERS OF THE FIRST REGIMENT INFANTRY.

Seven o’clock came and went, and still no rations. Some thing must be done immediately; and it was now that the little “takings” of the quartermaster showed their value. A fire was quickly started, and three scantlings lashed together at one end forming a tripod, were placed over it; from the center a wire was suspended and the coffee-pot (captured and held for ransom) placed thereon. In a short time water was boiling and coffee made. The coffee and pot having played their part, the prepared beans, which simply needed heating to be very palatable, so neatly added to the company larder that afternoon by the quartermaster, and that very apt pupil in the art of “taking,” Private Hayes, were then brought into service. Emptying five cans of them into a tin bucket they were placed over the fire to warm. About the time the regimental commissary department issued one boiled ham, twelve loaves bread, one roll of butter, and six dozen eggs. Willing hands and hungry mouths set to work making and marring sandwiches. Prominent among the mouth contingent was Sergeant Sieberst who was noticed to eat more than he made, and after a heated argument with the Emperor’s finest, Paul Rupp, was told to amuse himself keeping the fire up. He was nothing loath, the beans being already very palatable. But Private Hayes, who had noticed the facility with which the worthy Sergeant could “turn a sandwich into a man,” told him not to bother about the fire. Hayes was not a man to lend a hand to acquire anything and then get left himself. Quartermaster Clifford has learned this to be a fact, as since the campaign, he has discovered the cause of certain mysterious disappearings of canned oysters and a few other articles of more or less gastronomic value.

The sandwiches were finally all made; and after the beans were thoroughly warmed, the eggs were put on and in a short time boiled hard. Imagine the inconvenience of cooking one article at a time, with a lot of hungry men waiting, like vultures, to devour it. It was fully 8 o’clock when supper was ready to be served. Each man stepped up and received two sandwiches, one egg, a small quantity of beans, and a cup of coffee. Another great disadvantage was the lack of tin plates,cups, forks, and spoons. There had been enough for about one-half the company served out to us, and when one man finished with a cup or plate, it was passed to another who had not yet been served. This, it was rumored among the boys, was another stroke of economic genius on a par with that “ample” breakfast and dinner of the 4th of July, by our brilliant minded Adjutant General Allen, late 2d Lieutenant Commissary Department Missouri State Volunteers. Nobody, on this occasion, waited for fork or spoon, but used a piece of wood or any thing else that might answer the purpose. Occasionally the quartermaster’s voice could be heard denouncing some hungry man for “repeating.” After all had “scored,” some being still hungry, sent to a neighboring store and purchased canned stuffs and crackers. Some took the entire situation good naturedly, but all seemed to think it necessary to stand round and echo the appeals of their inner man.

Had we been camped in a strange country, with no base of supplies, we could hardly have been thrown more on our own resources than we were, camped in the city of Sacramento, the very town in which our adjutant general, who is quartermaster and commissary general also of the National Guard of California has his headquarters.

Here was a commissary department under the direct eye of its chief thrown into such confusion by a simple change of camp that in a regiment of seven companies, six were forced to buy their own provisions, and the Seventh, waiting to be served, finally received enough to satisfy about one-half their number, the coffee and beans, be it remembered, not being issued by the commissary department. And as if this alone were not bad enough, the men were obliged, on account of the scarcity of tin cups and plates, on which valuable articles some military wiseacre had thought well to economise, to wait in squads for their meal, which some did not taste until after 9 o’clock.

Tattoo, at 9:15, found the men of B still airing their grievances; yet, having at least partially appeased their appetites, they willingly retired to their tents, where, of course, the orator of each tent crowd continued to hold forth. Taps came, and still the flow of oratory continued. On all such occasions as this, our watchful captain would wander down one side of the street and up the other, pull back the fly of each tent as he passed, poke his head slowly in and make his usual request to “Let’s have a little quiet.” It was on this occasion, webelieve, that Johnny Gilkyson, of the wild Irish tent, the fighting drummer, stunned our worthy captain and nearly convulsed his tentmates by replying “How much worth, Captain?” Surprised at his own audacity, Johnny dived under the blanket of his bunky, who was nearly choked in his efforts to smother his laughter.

Breakfast the next morning, that of Friday the 13th, served at 6 o’clock, found the men waiting and willing. This meal, prepared in the same manner as that of the previous evening, consisted of boiled eggs, bread, and coffee. This was, really, our first day at this new camp, work having been begun so late the day before that little more had been done than pitch the tents. After breakfast had been disposed of, the men of B, as of the other companies too, set to work with a will to put the street, their future home for nobody knew how long, into a habitable condition. Few shirked the work, and all seemed anxious to show that they had recovered from last night’s ordeal. Some secured planks from a neighboring sidewalk and stretched them across their tents at about the center to keep the hay used for beds from spreading; others made gun-racks of stray pieces of lumber to keep their rifles from the dust; while others took a hand-car, made a trip up the line some three or four hundred yards to the lumber-yard and secured material, out of which Monahan was soon busy manufacturing tables and benches. But by far the most important work undertaken was the improvision of a fireplace over which all future meals must be prepared. During the morning the captain issued orders giving full charge of the kitchen to Quartermaster Clifford and appointing Musician Paul Rupp company cook. Having been given charge of the kitchen, Clifford, aided by Sergeant Sturdivant, set to work at the fireplace. Taking the hand-car previously used that morning to carry lumber, Ramm, Clifford, Kelly, Monahan, and Flanagan went on a foraging expedition to the railroad shops to secure the necessary material. Needless to say, they took every thing in sight light enough to carry. They overhauled a “dead” engine, securing wrenches, shovel, pick, pokers, and several other more or less handy articles. Longing eyes they cast on a pile of lanterns locked up in a caboose, but house-breaking, at least, was beyond them. In the yard they discovered a piece of sheet-iron to be used as a top for the stove, which was made of bricks, a short stovepipe, and a piece of iron pipe about twelve feet long, by bending which,at about four feet from each end, and driving the ends into the ground, a very serviceable substitute for fork and spit was made and used thenceforth to hang pots and kettles over an open fire. Thus, in a comparatively short time, our company kitchen was created and in operation. The railroad tracks, with the exception of the main line, were blocked at this place by hundreds of fruit-cars, loaded before the strike for Eastern shipment. During the day some skillful operator or break-beam artist managed to open one of these, and a general raid was made on the fruit by the regiment. It seems needless to add that B secured a few boxes of pears; only a few, thirty or forty or so. Pears, raw or stewed, appeared on the menu at each meal from now until we left for Truckee.

On the first day or two of this system of company mess, affairs did not seem to run as smoothly as was anticipated. The cooks were forced to chop their own wood and wash the dishes; and though there was food thrown away after each meal, many of the men were growling about not getting enough to eat. This was finally remedied by having the first sergeant detail squads each day to do the necessary kitchen work. This system proved an entire success and a great improvement, the meals being prepared more quickly, served better, and less food wasted. As a sample of the detail made each morning, we insert that for Wednesday, July the 18th, the last day of our stay in this camp at Ninth and D streets.

DETAIL FOR CAMP WORK JULY 18, 1894.Keane, Wise, McKaig, dishwashers; T. McCulloch, O’Brien, woodchoppers; Monahan, Overstreet, O’Malley, cook helpers; Perry, Powlesen, R. Radke, G. Radke, Stealey, Sieberst, waiters.

DETAIL FOR CAMP WORK JULY 18, 1894.

Keane, Wise, McKaig, dishwashers; T. McCulloch, O’Brien, woodchoppers; Monahan, Overstreet, O’Malley, cook helpers; Perry, Powlesen, R. Radke, G. Radke, Stealey, Sieberst, waiters.

Later on, when enough plates, cups, knives, and forks had been issued by the commissary department to furnish each man with a separate kit, the necessity for appointing dishwashers was done away with, as each man was supposed to use and keep clean his own kit.

CO. B STREET WHILE CAMPED AT NINTH AND D STREETS, SACRAMENTO, CAL.

During the day several trips were made from the camp down the line to the American river bridge. One in the forenoon by Major Burdick, escorted by some of B’s best marksmen, another under Corporal Jack Wilson, who was looking for adventure, but found only hard work; and stillanother in the afternoon by Kelly, Unger, and Monahan, who were out on a foraging expedition. These latter went armed with revolvers, pumping with one hand and holding their instruments of destruction in the other. On returning from their successful expedition they noticed an empty car just outside the lines of the lower track guard crowded with a dozen or more disreputable looking characters, tramps in all probability. On arriving at the guard-house of the track guard they informed the officer in charge, who sent a detail down on their car to make the arrest. We have received information from a reliable source that a most determined resistance, a fight to the death, would have been made had not the opposing forces caught sight of Van Sieberst, thirsting for gore, whose face with its hirsute adornment of curly black whiskers, one “Wandering Willie” was heard to remark, would get up steam in a dead engine. So the arrest was made and the prisoners, a dozen or more, were marched up the line to general headquarters.

At 6P. M.the guards for the succeeding twenty-four hours were formed and sent out, Company G, as a whole, relieving the American river bridge guard, and guards, formed of details from the different companies, relieving the lower and upper track guards; that relieving the lower having no men from B, though commanded by Lieutenant Filmer, and that relieving the upper, under charge of Lieutenant Lundquist, having with them Sergeant Kelly, Corporal Burdick, and privates Bannan, Williams, Gilkyson, Frech, Flanagan, Crowley, Zimmerman, and Baumgartner, detailed from B.

The work required of this, as of the lower track guard, was most decidedly none of the easiest. Many narrow, dark streets and alleys ran into the tracks along which the sentries of this guard were posted, the tracks running within a few feet of the corners of these streets, necessitating extreme watchfulness on the part of the men. An unwary sentinel could be knocked senseless at any of these dark corners without the least difficulty or chance of exposing the assailant to the view of the other sentries.

We in camp passed the evening quietly. This splitting up of the company seemed to act as a damper on the spirits of the men. Little of such hilarity as was indulged in on the Capitol grounds being even thought of here. Doubtless one of the main reasons for this could be found in the fact thatit was more the rule than the exception that out of a tent crowd of six or seven there would be but three or two, or sometimes only one, left in camp to occupy the tent.

“The shades of night were falling fast”

o’er our little city of white, tattoo had sounded, and those who had not already retired were sleepily preparing to do so, when bang! bang! bang! went several shots down the line in the direction of the lower track guard over whose destinies Lieutenant Filmer, of “Ours,” presided. Not waiting for the long roll, which was quickly sounded, nor for the calls of our first sergeant to “Fall in!” “Fall in!” those of us who were awake and dressed quickly buckled on our belts, snatched our rifles from the racks, and “Fell in” in the company street. The excitement was intense, and increasing every moment. Excitable men were dodging in and out of their tents, forgetting their belts, forgetting their rifles, forgetting every thing, it would seem, but the fact that some one either was or had been “blazing away” down the line. One, almost delirious, was racing back and forth, shouting to our busy first sergeant, high above the noise created by the others: “Al, will I get my leggins?” “Al, will I get my belt?” “Al, will I get my gun?” “Al, will I——.” “Shut up, and fall in,” almost yelled our harassed sergeant, as he wheeled round on the luckless wanderer, who jumped into his tent, and appeared the next moment, shouting: “Al, will I get——,” but “Al” was not to be seen, and the anxious questioner who “was not scared, far from it,” he only wanted to be told what regalia to appear in on such an august occasion, was compelled to fall in with the less punctilious members of the company.

At the other end of the street an equally amusing scene was enacting. Charlie Perry, who had just finished a long twenty-four hours of guard duty, had gone soundly to sleep, but at the first note of alarm, dimly realizing that long roll had sounded, jumped from his blankets, dressed like a flash, grasped his rifle, and sprang forth from his tent. Still half asleep, he arrived in the middle of the street, brandishing his rifle, and threatening to “blow the head off” of every striker in Sacramento. It took all of the muchly-overworked “Al’s” persuasive powers to get the redoubtable Charlie into the ranks, where he undoubtedly would have done much to make his promise good had the opportunity offered.

The opportunity did not offer, however. At the first note of the long roll the captain dispatched two men down a narrow alley, which appeared to afford a short cut in the direction of the firing, to investigate how far the alley was open. They reported it open for at least a block, affording a chance for a quick passage to the street below, which led directly to the tracks at the point where the track guard was posted.

By this time the cause of the firing had been discovered. A sentry, posted near the crossing of Tenth street and the tracks close to the point at which Tenth street becomes simply a road through the marsh between the levee and the river, was the primary cause of the excitement. He had been one of our later arrivals. Coming up the river on the boat he had come in contact with two disreputable looking characters, who made it their business to advertise the fact that they were ex-convicts, and boasted loudly of what they intended to do, on their arrival, to the “blue coats.”

While pacing his beat he noticed these same two strolling round, just outside the lines, in a most suspicious manner. Finally, making up his mind to question them, he challenged. Not waiting for a second call, the supposed ex-convicts rushed across the road, and over a low fence into a barnyard. The sentry opened fire in the direction in which they had run, and kept it up lustily, though the night was so dark he could not see objects clearly thirty feet from his beat. Great was the excitement of the guard, as, led by Lieutenant Filmer, the reliefs not on duty rushed down to the scene of the firing. But by this time the rattle of musketry had ceased, and the only sound to be heard was the groan of some wounded creature in the barnyard. On investigation it proved to be a horse, so badly hurt as to make it necessary, next morning, to put the poor animal beyond reach of pain.

This, indeed, proved a rather tame ending to all the excitement at camp, but thus it was.

To go back to the American river bridge guard. After a cautious run of about fifteen minutes the train arrived at the bridge. Most of the railroads in this county are built on the levees. At this point on the American the levees on either side are about one-half a mile from the banks of the river. Consequently, while the bridge over the river proper is of no great length, the approaches of trestle-work on each side from the levee to the bridge form a very extensive work to guard,in all fully a mile and a quarter in length. There were two bridge-tender’s houses raised on piles, and connected with the track by a small platform large enough to hold a hand-car for the use of the tender. These houses were built one at each end of the bridge proper, or just over the banks of the river. On account of the nature of the ground, the guard was divided into three sections, the first of about twenty-five men, under Lieutenant Dumbrell of C, relieving the regulars on guard at the nearer end of the trestle; the second of about ten men, under First Sergeant McNally of G, relieving those who, stationed at the first tender’s house, guarded about one hundred yards of trestle and the bridge; and the third, composed of the remainder of the guard, under Lieutenant Eggert of F, relieving those who guarded the half-mile of trestle on the farther side of the river. With this latter guard went the squad from B, under Corporal McCulloch. His brother, the doctor, expecting this to be the point at which his services would be most liable to be called for, was also stationed here. This bridge duty proved to be what the boys called a “snap.” The third division of the guard bivouacked on the bank of the river, a little to the rear of the bridge-tender’s house. A camp fire was lighted, details for guard made, and the sentries for the succeeding two hours posted at intervals in the shadow of the trestle, along its half-mile of length. The men, tired with their day’s work at pitching camp, and one at least of B’s men, having served night and day on the two just preceding days, rolled in their blankets, stretched themselves on the windward side of the fire, with their feet as close to it as the combustibility of leather would allow, and composed themselves to sleep. This sleeping, however, quickly proved a most difficult undertaking. They thought that their Sacramento experience had made them “skeeter proof”; but the present experience surpassed their wildest imagination. They heard not the hum, but the flapping of the wings, of countless swarms. One facetious young man claimed he had killed a bat; but it was found to be only an innocent mosquito, who had intended relieving the soldier of one of his brass buttons. Now the smoke of the fire came into use; but these did not seem to be the kind of mosquitoes you read about; they were impervious to smoke, much to the disgust of the men. Lying there, the lucky ones with handkerchiefs over their faces, the poor harassed soldiers would hear, first, a song of “cousin-n-n,” as a thirsty skeeter hovered over his prey,and then a vindictive “ping-ng-ng” as he swooped down on some exposed spot. The victim’s turn would now come, however, and a vigorous slap would be heard, then a grunt of satisfaction, or a growling voice inviting the escaped marauder to take a pleasant journey to unknown regions. However, sleep will come under almost any circumstances to the really tired, and the men gradually fell asleep in spite of their winged tormentors. They had rested less than half an hour when they were sharply wakened by four or five shots fired in quick succession, followed by yells for the “Corporal of the guard.” In a flash a dozen or more had thrown off their blankets, grasped their rifles, and were running along over the uneven ground, led by Lieutenant Eggert, in the direction of the shots. This run proved how ineffective was this method of posting the sentries on the ground. At places a sentry who had to patrol one hundred yards of bridge could not see ten paces from him, and had to pick his way carefully over the uneven ground, and, in one place, around the edge of a swamp. Calling as they went, the guard continued to run in the direction in which the shots had been heard, and came upon the sentry, after having run a full half-mile. He was stationed at the extreme end of the trestle, at the point where it meets the levee on which the remainder of the road is built. He had fired, he said, on two men coming along the levee toward the trestle, and who had run down the embankment and across the field on being challenged. The commander of the guard, after questioning the sentry closely, decided to double the number of sentries, and consequently the length of time to serve, and stationed them on instead of under the bridge, warning the men to avoid, as far as possible, exposing themselves against the sky-line. The new sentries were posted in squads of two at about every third water barrel along the bridge. B’s men, all of whom had joined in the run toward the firing, were placed on this new detail. Nothing further of an exciting nature happened during the night; but some thing of a most disgraceful nature did happen during the four hours, from 10P. M.till 2A. M., this same detail were on guard. Private O’Brien of B, who, with Private McKaig of the same company, was stationed at posts 6 and 7, growing cramped and cold in his crouching position, decided, at about 1A. M., to warm himself by patroling in the direction of posts 8 and 9. He was promptly challenged by the sentries at these posts, and, on his comingback, McKaig decided to patrol in the direction of Nos. 4 and 5. Moving carefully along over the ties, and keeping a sharp lookout, he expected each moment to be challenged. He was not, however, and, wondering whether he had miscalculated the distance, kept on. Soon a most surprising sight met his eyes. The two sentries, not men of B company, we are most heartily glad to say, were stretched across the ties, sound asleep, with their loaded rifles lying by their sides. No punishment is too severe for such a crime. Little account need be taken of such an occurrence were the worthless lives of the culprits the only ones in jeopardy; but a sentry on duty at a camp, where the lives of his comrades depend on his watchfulness, or when on any other important guard duty, who deliberately lies down and sleeps at his post, as these two had evidently done, merits any punishment, no matter how severe. In the case of these two worthies it would seem to be a common practice, for they were again found asleep under the bridge while on duty next day.

At 2A. M.the first detail, which had now served four hours, was relieved, use being made for that purpose of a hand-car on which Major Burdick, accompanied by his Adjutant, Lieutenant Hosmer, had come down the track on a tour of inspection a few moments before, bringing with him a most welcome pot of coffee and can of sandwiches. Of the latter, however, the detail just relieved saw little, each man getting about half a sandwich, the other men of the guard, who had been refreshed by four hours of sleep, having thought it their duty to see that the sandwiches were properly disposed of before these really tired men arrived at the campfire.

The men on this guard were a most voracious set, as B’s detail found out to its sorrow next morning. The rest of the night passed quietly, and daybreak found our men, with the exception of George Heizman, again on guard. On being relieved these men found that breakfast had been already cooked, served, and eaten, great care being taken, as during the night, that nothing should be left for the men who were yet to be relieved. All this, too, in spite of the fact that a B man, Heizman, of whose comrades the present detail was mainly formed, had kindly acted as cook. The tired and hungry men of course “raised a kick,” but as usual each individual warmly denied having “doubled up” on his allowance. It was in a heated argument with one of these lustyeaters, whom he had found seated near the fire letting out a hole or two in his belt, that a B man held that he of the belt was not singly a hog but one of a drove close at hand.

However, the breakfast, which had been a fine one, consisting of coffee, green corn, potatoes (secured at a Chinese ranch some distance up the American), and corned beef hash, in which form alone would the boys now consent to eat that awful canned corned beef, had vanished; and the first detail had still to be fed. Realizing this, George Heizman, who is a real chef, set to work making more coffee and hash, and explained the locality of the ranch from which the corn had been secured. Resolved not to feed less highly than the gourmands of the guard, Kinky McKaig, Billy O’Brien, and a private of A started up the river toward the ranch, which they found after a tramp of about two miles and a half. Here, by means of promises to have the trains running inside of a few days, they secured a sack of corn, half a sack of potatoes, and enough garlic, which they thought were onions, to have sent an Italian army into paroxysms of glee. Returned to camp, they found that Doc Tom McCulloch, had, by using moral suasion, secured a five-gallon can of milk from a rancher on the other side of the river. After such a scramble we may well imagine the meal was enjoyed; and so it might, as it was the best consolation to be obtained, sarcasm making not the slightest impression on their well-fed comrades. The rest of the morning passed quietly, some of the men taking a plunge in the river, and the others stretched lazily about the remains of the previous night’s fire “swapping lies.” A visit was paid the guard by Corporal Jack Wilson, that worker—of other men—who came down the line on a hand-car, which, however, he kindly allowed others to pump. Not much information was derived from him as to the condition of affairs in town, the amount of pumping he had done on the way down, and who would have to do the work going back, being his sole topic of conversation.

Shortly before noon the guard was startled by a few shots heard in the direction of town, then a volley, and soon round after round was fired as from a gatling gun. The excitement soon became intense, and as the firing continued, the excited men climbed up the bridge at a point from which the white clouds of powder smoke could be seen rising, apparently, just to the left of the Capitol dome which could be plainly seen high above the trees which hid the rest of the town fromview. Many were the explanations offered, tho’ none seemed to doubt it was a battle, and seemingly a very serious one. Some thought the strikers had attacked the depot; others that they had attacked the Third Regiment camp; but far the most popular explanation was that the attack was on the camp of the First at Ninth and D streets. Some stormed furiously at the luck which kept them all this distance from the place where the “fun was going on,” while others were perfectly contented thus far out of bullet range, and seemed to think this bridge guard a greater snap than ever. Soon a hand-car bearing Major Burdick came rushing down the line pumped furiously by an excited squad of soldiers. Seeing the car coming, the men rushed down, rolled their blankets, slung their haversacks and canteens, and were starting to climb up onto the bridge, the whole excited guard of about twenty or more expecting to be carried off on a hand-car large enough to hold six.

The major, however, blasted their hopes by telling them that he knew as little about the firing as themselves. He thought, he said, that the regulars were breaking up a camp of strikers farther down toward the Sacramento, and explaining that the strikers would retreat in this direction, ordered out a squad of skirmishers under a corporal to check their advance toward the bridge. Now, as usual, the volunteers were importunate, but the detail was taken by roster and the majority of the volunteers left disconsolate. They were comforted, however, when, shortly after the departure of our anxious major up the line, and of the squad through the bushes down the river, the firing ceased as suddenly as it had begun. It gradually dawned on those left behind that this could not have been a battle, could, in fact, be none other than practice by the batteries still on the Capitol grounds; and then the realization of the work before that now unlucky squad made them smile in quiet contentment. Two hours later, worn, weary, and bedraggled, the luckless men straggled into camp, paying no attention to the sarcastic grins of their heartless comrades, but stretching themselves on the ground where they were dismissed, were soon sound asleep. Never a word of thrilling adventure did they offer. The subject was tabooed.

So the day passed. The bridge guards now numbered only four and were posted every hour. Posted by telling the next man for duty to go out and relieve the man who had been on an hour.

Later in the day Tom McCulloch and Billy O’Brien, who had gone to the south side of the bridge to get more milk, provided they had the persuasive powers, met Sergeant Kelly of the Irish gang, Billy Unger the “regular from Arizona,” and Lengthy Monahan, who had come down on a hand-car on a foraging expedition, having heard of the green corn. They had bravely ventured down the line armed only with revolvers, scorning the escort of Springfields. Every resident or harmless tramp met on the way was instantly covered by two open mouthed bull-dog revolvers, while the other of the trio of heroes calmly pumped the car out of range. Hearing about the milk McCulloch and O’Brien had come for, Kelly accompanied them to the dairy, where another five-gallon can of milk was secured for the company. Crossing to the other side, O’Brien volunteered to lead them to the Chinese ranch from which the corn had been secured. The distance surprised them greatly, as they had been told the ranch was just outside our lines. This time the Chinaman was very reluctant, but finally picked two sacks of corn, when, in addition to the arguments used by our foragers, he was shown the mechanism of O’Brien’s Springfield and the size of a cartridge. In addition to the corn a quantity of potatoes was secured, and, slinging the sacks over their shoulders, the tramp back began. Their surprise at the distance now soon gave place to disgust, and resolutions to quit work for the rest of the campaign were quickly made and broken by these hardy warriors.

As the day advanced Tommy Eggert, of negro minstrel fame, struck up an acquaintance with the bridge-tender’s family, and learning they had a banjo, quickly possessed himself of it, promising, with the aid of the guard, to furnish an entertainment unrivaled in history. This he did, to the satisfaction of the guard and his new-made friends, at least. No one acquainted with the versatile Tommy, who has, since the “war,” made a record as the nominator of unsuccessful candidates at the late municipal convention, can doubt for a moment the success of his impromptu entertainment. All the musically inclined of the guard stretched themselves on the ground in the deepening shadows and chorused to Tommy’s negro ditties.

Shortly before sunset the train bearing the guard for the next twenty-four hours arrived, and the men reluctantly boarded the train which was to carry them back to Sacramento, away from the only pleasant duty they had yet been called upon to perform,already looking anxiously forward to the time when they would again be detailed to guard the American river bridge.

The next day, Saturday, the 16th, little of any importance occurred. B street was comparatively deserted, at least half of the company being on guard. Those not on duty were to be found either reclining in the shades of the trees on the grounds of the “Haunted House,” or assisting at the few things still necessary to be done about the company street. Monahan, aided by a corps of amateurs, was manufacturing benches. Rupp and his assistant cooks were busy improving the store and preparing for the noon meal. McKaig and O’Brien were taking turns at the washtub, while O’Malley and half a dozen others were stretching a large hospital tent fly, which this same O’Malley, the pill-roller, had purloined from the regimental baggage, over the street from tent to tent, making a most welcome shade. This fly was the envy of all the companies, as the sultry heat of the sun had not abated in the least since our move from the soft grass of the capitol grounds to the hot, dusty street at the railroad yards.

Bearing in mind the grand success achieved by the patent shower bath at our last camp, and longing for the delights of cold water on a warm day, the boys of the regiment soon improvised in a deserted stable in the rear of headquarters another bath quite as successful, tho’ not as fancy as the last. This, in fact, needed two to operate—one man “playing the hose,” while the other, between gasps, scrubbed himself.

During the morning old “Lou the Vet” had his picture taken. Come, now, don’t laugh! Of course, we know Lou never yet missed an opportunity to pose, but in connection with this picture an incident occurred which showed the effect of Lou’s forty years of discipline. He had arranged this morning with Lieutenant Hosmer to have himself “kodaked,” and was proceeding toward the battalion adjutant’s tent, carrying his rifle with him (“parade rest” is Lou’s only pose), when he met the colonel and promptly saluted.

“Corporal Townsend,” said the colonel, “what is the first duty of a soldier?”

“To obey,” answered the corporal, again saluting.

Just at this critical moment, when the extent of Lou’s knowledge of “tictacs,” as the new recruit once called it, was about to be thoroughly investigated Lieutenant Hosmer appeared, bearing the kodak.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready!” answered Lou.

The kodak was about to snap, when the colonel ordered “About, face!”

Promptly obeying the order, Lou “came about,” and the picture became, not a front, but a rear view.

Lou had shown that he could act as well as answer, and as a reward had his much desired “parade rest” taken.

Later in the day, Lou having occasion to drop in at the hospital, he discovered that there were four unused hair mattresses, neatly covered with bedclothes, stretched on the floor of one of the rooms. What a shock the sight gave him, poor man. He began to feel “symptoms,” and soon “had ’em bad.” He wandered round the grounds, casting longing looks upward at the windows of the room in which those unused luxuries lay.

“Was he sick enough yet?” he wondered, “or would Doc O’Brien give him pills, not a bed?”

He finally settled the question to his own satisfaction, and seeing Private Hayes standing by the fire, Lou, with a face twice its natural length, slowly approached, and, leaning weakly on the shoulder of the stalwart private, began, in a voice, “hoarse with suffering”:

“Hayes—I really—must go to the hospital. This is no—place for—me. It’s a great mistake—I feel it now,” pressing his hand to his side. “And Hayes, like a good fellow—they’re cooking something—here, will you see—that I’m not forgotten—that I get some thing—to eat—when I go to the—hospital?”

“Most certainly I will, Lou,” answered Hayes, feeling a great wave of sympathy welling up in his heart of hearts for his poor, stricken comrade.

“Thank you—Hayes,” answered poor Lou, in a pain-stricken voice, as he wandered slowly and feebly off toward the hospital and those four neat beds, where, by the practice of his arts, he succeeded in establishing himself as an occupant of one. He now regained his voice and spirits miraculously. Meantime Hayes, with whom pity was but fleeting, went assiduously on with his work as scullery maid, and it was not long before Lou and his sufferings were entirely forgotten. The dinner was cooked and served, and the tired cooks and waiters had seated themselves down to enjoy their own meal. They, too, had almost finished, when O’Malley rushed acrossfrom the hospital and demanded of Hayes the meal he had promised to send Lou. Consternation! What were they to do? Rupp, the careful, never would cook too much; it took the united efforts of all to persuade him to cook enough.

However, making a virtue of necessity, and well knowing Lou’s capacity, sick or well, they gathered together a plateful of untouched pieces of stew-meat and potatoes, heaping it to the full with the remainder of their own meal, persuading Clifford, much against his will, to contribute a plate of stewed pears he was then eating, and O’Malley, himself, donating a plate of ice cream, so called, bought at the Japanese mission. Lou’s dinner was sent to him, with many kind inquiries as to his health. Later in the day Hayes made a party call on Lou, who, thanking him profusely, declared that day’s meal the best he had eaten in Sacramento. Future cooks on future campaigns many, many years hence remember, when cooking for Lou, that quantity, not quality, is the test.

Lou was so well pleased with himself and the world in general on this occasion that he became very facetious, telling a certain visitor that he had discovered, since his incarceration (?) in the hospital, “that the house really was haunted; the spirits were in the closet; have a drink.”

All this day the yard engines were busily steaming back and forth, making up trains, and, in the fore part of the afternoon, the first train for the East, carrying with it several Pullman cars, pulled out of the yards. As it passed our camp, at Ninth and D streets, it was cheered long and lustily by the soldiers, who felt that the leaving of many more such trains would be the signal for their return home.

This day undoubtedly saw the breaking of the backbone of the strike. Never was the Sacramento railroad yard so busy as now. Switch engines were dashing back and forth, clearing the tracks and making up long trains of freight and passenger coaches. Many of the firemen and brakemen, who had been forced out against their will and better judgment, were glad of the opportunity to return to work.

Little or no sympathy was felt by the soldiers for the strikers. The majority of them wage-earners themselves, they felt that the great cause of labor against capital was injured, not benefited, by such strikes as these. Never in the history of the world has a strike, great or small, been won by violence; and this was pre-eminently a strike of violence. While professingto act peaceably, they had made all possible preparations for even a revolution against the authority of the government. They had sent to all parts of the state, gathering together men the most lawless, and armed them with Winchesters and stolen rifles. They had loaded a car with giant powder and dynamite and rolled it into the station, ready for use—an awful engine of destruction, which, had they succeeded in exploding at the right time, as they most undoubtedly intended to attempt, would have shaken the very city to its foundations, and sacrificed the lives of all, soldier and civilian alike, within hundreds of feet of the depot. They had loaded an old cannon to the muzzle with scrap iron and bullets and planted it in the marsh within two hundred yards of the station, but seemingly lacked the courage, not the desire, to discharge it. And last, though by no means least, they had made the devilish preparations for slaughter described in a former chapter.

Add to this terrible list of at least intended crime that most cold-blooded, red-handed murder of their own comrade, Sam Clark, the engineer, and of the four United States soldiers, who were doing a duty they had taken a most solemn oath to perform when they swore to uphold their country and its laws against all transgressors, and not only the lack of sympathy, but the great and all-absorbing desire to mete out deserving punishment for such a fearful crime, which possessed the citizen soldiery, cannot seem strange. Who or what but a scurrilous daily sheet, cringing and toadying even to such bloodthirsty murderers as these, for the sake of an added subscription or a vote for its owner, should he run for office, could feel kindly toward a cause supported by such methods as these?

We are most heartily, profoundly glad to add here that at least one of the assassins (Worden) who planned and executed the wreck of that train and the murder of their fellow-beings has been sentenced to pay the penalty with his life, and that over the lives of six others the same fate hangs. May full justice be meted out to them.

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