<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"></SPAN></p>
<br/>
<h2> CHAPTER XXV. </h2>
<p>Our Party of Recruits own the Earth—We Live High, Give a<br/>
Ball, and go to the Guard-House—And are Arrested by Colored<br/>
Troops.<br/></p>
<p>Let's see, I forget whether I have ever told about getting strung up on a
bayonet, near New Orleans, when I first went south as a recruit. It was
before I had joined my regiment, and I was with a gang of recruits, all
looking for the regiments we had enlisted in. We had come down from St.
Louis on a steamboat, our regiments being scattered all over the
Department of the Gulf. We were not in any particular hurry to find our
regiments, as the longer we kept away from them the less duty we would
have to do. I do not think, out of the whole forty recruits, there was one
who was in the least hurry to find his regiment, and none of them would
have known their regiments if they had seen them, unless somebody told
them. They had enlisted just as it happened, all of them hoping the war
would be over before they found where they belonged. They didn't know
anybody in their respective regiments, hence there were no ties binding
them. But they had been together for several months, as recruits, until
all had got well acquainted, and if they could have been formed into a
company, for service together, they might have done pretty good fighting.
The crowd was becoming smaller, as every day or two some recruit would
come and bid us all good bye. He had actually stumbled on to his regiment,
and when the officers of an old regiment, in examining recruits, found one
assigned to his regiment, he never took his eyes off the recruit until he
was landed. I have seen some very affecting partings, when one of our gang
would find where he belonged and had to leave us, perhaps never to meet
again. The gang was rapidly dropping apart, and when we got to New Orleans
there were only twenty or so left. We reported to the commanding officer,
and he quartered us at Carrollton, near the city, in what had once been a
beer-garden and dance-house. We slept on the floor of the dance-house,
cooked our meals out in the garden, spread our food on the old beer
tables, and imagined we were proprietors of the place, or guests of the
government. We always ordered beer or expensive wines with our meals. Not
that we ever got any beer or wine, because the beer garden was deserted,
but we put on a great deal of style.</p>
<p>We found a lot of champagne bottles out in the back yard, and I do not
think I ever took a meal there without having a champagne bottle sitting
beside me on the table, and when any citizens were passing along the
street we would take up the bottles, look at the label in a scrutinizing
way, as though not exactly certain in our minds whether we were getting as
good wine as we were paying for. The old empty bottles gave us a standing
in Carrollton society that nothing else could have given us. Some of the
boys got so they could imitate the popping of a champagne cork to
perfection, by placing one finger in the mouth, prying the cheek around on
one side, and letting it fly open suddenly. We would have several of the
boys with aprons on, and when anybody was passing on the street, one of us
would call, “Waiter open a bottle of that extra dry.” The waiter would
say, “Certainly, sah,” take a bottle between his knees, run his finger in
his mouth and make it pop, and then pretend to pour out the champagne in
glasses, imitating the “fizzing” perfectly. It was the extra dryest
champagne that I ever had. But all that foolishness had the desired
effect. It convinced the citizens of Carrollton that we were no ordinary
soldiers. We were all nicely dressed, had no guards, and apparently no
officers, had plenty of money, which we spent freely at the stores, and
the impression soon got out that we were on some special service, and
there was, of course, much curiosity to know our business. I learned that
we were looked upon as secret service men, and I told the boys about it,
and advised them not to tell that we were recruits, but to put on an air
of mystery, and we would have fun while we remained. One day an oldish
gentleman who lived near, and who had a fine orange plantation, or grove,
toward which we had cast longing eyes, called at the dance-house where we
were quartered. We had just finished our frugal meal, and the empty
bottles were being taken away. He addressed me, and said, “Good day,
Colonel.” I responded as best I could, and invited him to be seated. I
apologized for not offering him a glass of champagne, but told him we had
cracked the last bottle, and would not have any more until the next day,
as I had only that morning requested my friend, the general commanding at
New Orleans, to send me a fresh supply, which he would do at once, I had
no doubt. Well, you ought to have seen the boys try to keep from laughing,
stuffing handkerchiefs in their mouths, etc. But not a man laughed. The
old citizen said it was no matter, as he would drop in the next day, and
drink with us. We talked about the war, and it is my impression he was
anxious for us to believe he was a loyal man. But after a while he asked
me what particular duty I was on, there at Carrollton. I hesitated a
moment, and finally told him that I hoped he would excuse me for not
telling him, but the fact was it would be as much as my “commission” would
be worth to unfold any of my plans. I told him that time alone would
reveal the object of our being there, and until such time as my government
thought it best to make it public, it was my duty as an officer, to keep
silent. He said certainly, that was all right, and he admired me for
keeping my own counsel. (I was probably the highest private and rawest
recruit in the army.) He said there was a natural curiosity on the part of
the people of Carrollton to know who we were, as we lived so high, and
seemed such thorough gentlemen. I admitted that we were thorough
gentlemen, and thanked him for the high opinion that the cultured people
of Carrollton had of us. He wound up by pointing to his orange grove, and
said he-would consider it a special favor if we would consider ourselves
perfectly free to go there and help ourselves at any time, and
particularly that evening, as a number of young people would be at his
house for a quiet dance. I told him that a few of us would certainly be
present, and thanked him kindly. When he was gone I told the boys, and
they wanted to give three cheers, but I got them to keep still, and we
talked all the afternoon of the soft snap we had struck, and cleaned up
for the party. My intention was to pick out half a dozen of the best
dressed, recruits, those that could make a pretty fair showing in society
to go with me, but they all wanted to go, and there was no way to prevent
it, so all but one Irishman, that we hired to stay and watch our camp,
went. Well, we ate oranges fresh from the trees, joined in the dance, ate
refreshments, and drank the old gentleman's wine, and had a good time,
made a good impression on the ladies, and went back to camp at midnight.
On the way over to the party I told the boys the gentleman was coming to
see us the next day, and we should have to get a bottle of champagne
some-where, to treat him, as I had told him we expected, some more up from
the city. When we came back from the party a German recruit pulled a
bottle of champagne out of his pocket, which he had stolen from the man's
house in order to treat him with the next day. The gentleman came over to
our quarters the next day, and we opened our bottle, and he drank to our
very good health, though I thought he looked at the label on the bottle
pretty close. For a week we frequented the gentleman's orange grove every
day, and ate oranges to our heart's content.</p>
<p>Several times during the week we were invited to different houses, where
we boys became quite interested in the fair girls of Louisiana. It was ten
days from the time we settled in the beer garden, and we had kept our
secret well. Nobody in Carrollton knew that we were raw recruits that had
never seen a day of service, but the impression was still stronger than
ever that we were pets of the government. We had an old map of the United
States that we had borrowed at a saloon, and during the day we would hang
the map up and surround it, while I pointed out imaginary places to
attack. This we would do while people were passing. Everything was working
splendidly, and we decided to give a party. We hired a band to play in the
dance house, ordered refreshments, and invited about forty ladies and
gentlemen to attend. The day we were to give the party we sent a recruit
down town to draw rations, and he told everybody what a high old time we
recruits were having at Carrollton. The commanding officer heard of it,
and, probably having forgotten that we were up there waiting to be sent to
our regiments he sent a peremptory order for us to report at New Orleans
before noon of that day. How could we report at noon, when we were going
to give a party at night? It was simply impossible, and I, as a sort of
breast corporal in charge, sent a man down town to tell the commanding
officer that we had an engagement that night, and couldn't come before the
next day. I did not know that it was improper to send regrets to a
commanding officer when ordered to do anything. The man I sent down to New
Orleans came back and I asked him what the general said. The man said he
read the note and said, “The hell they can't come till tomorrow. The
impudence of the recruits. They will come tonight!” I did not believe we
would. In my freshness I did not believe that any commander of troops
would deliberately break up a ball, and humiliate brave soldiers. I
thought my explanation to the commander that we had an engagement, would
be sufficient, that he would see that it was impossible to hurry matters.
We had been to a good deal of expense, and it was our duty, after
accepting the hospitalities of those people, to pay our indebtedness in
the only way we knew how, and so, as the boys had gathered around me to
see what was to be done, I said, “On with the dance. Let joy be
unconfined.”</p>
<p>Our guests arrived on time, and shortly after it became dark, the Dutch
band we had hired from, a beer hall down town, struck up some sort of
foreign music, and “there was a sound of revelry by night.” We danced half
a dozen times, smiled sweetly on our guests, walked around the paths of
the old garden, flirted a little perhaps, and talked big with the male
guests, and convinced them anew that we were regular old battle-scarred
vets, on detached duty of great importance. Near midnight we all set down
to lunch, around the beer tables, and everything was going along smooth.
The old gentleman who had been first to make our acquaintance, and who had
been the means of getting us into society, proposed as a toast, “Our brave
and generous hosts,” and the boys called upon me to respond. I got up on a
bench and was making a speech that, if I had been allowed to continue,
would have been handed down in history as one of the ablest of our time.
It was conciliatory in tone, calculated to cement a friendship between the
army and the citizens of the south, and show that while we were engaged in
war, there was nothing mean about us, and that we loved our neighbors as
ourselves. I was just getting warmed up, and our guests had spatted their
hands at some of my remarks, when I heard a tramp, tramp, tramp on the
sidewalk outside, and before I could breathe a squad of infantry soldiers
had filed into the garden, surrounded the dance-house, a dozen had formed
in line before the door, and a sergeant had walked in and ordered the
citizens to disperse, and said the recruits were under arrest. Well, I
have been in some tight places in my life, but that was the closest place
I ever struck. The old gentleman, the leader of our guests, turned to me
and asked what this all meant, and I told him to be calm, and I would fix
everything. I got down off the bench and approached the sergeant, to argue
the thing. I found that he was, a colored man, and that his soldiers were
also colored troops. This was the unkindest cut of all. I could stand it
to be arrested by white soldiers, but the sending of a lot of “niggers”
after us white fellows was more than human nature could bear. We had most
of us been Democrats before enlisting, and had never looked upon the
colored man with that respect that we learned to do, later. I went up to
the sergeant, as brave as I could, and said, “Look-a-here, boss, you have
made a dreadful mistake. We are gentlemen, enjoying ourselves, and this
interruption on your part will cost you dear. Now go away with your men,
quietly, and I promise you, on the honor of a gentleman, that I will not
report you, and have you punished,” and I looked at him in a tone of voice
that I thought would convince him that I was a friend if he should go
away, but if he remained it would be at his peril.</p>
<p>He said he didn't want any foolishness, or some of us would get hurt, and
just then one of the Irish recruits, who had tried to skin out the back
way, got jabbed in the pants by a bayonet, and he began to howl and cuss
the “niggers.” The sergeant called up half a dozen of his sable guard, and
they surrounded me and some of the boys. Our guests were becoming
frightened, ladies had put on-their wraps, and there was a good deal of
confusion, when I shouted, “Boys, are we going to submit to this insult on
the part of a lot of nigger field hands? Never! To the rescue!” Well, they
didn't “to the rescue” worth a cent. A colored man with a bayonet had
every recruit's breast at the point of his weapon, three soldiers
surrounded me, and one run his bayonet through the breast of my coat and
out under my arm, and held me on my tip-toes, and I was powerless, except
with my mouth. The old gentleman, our most distinguished guest, came up to
me, and I said to him, in confidence, so our guests could hear, however,
with a smile, “This may seem to you a singular proceeding. I cannot
explain it to you now, as I am pledged to secrecy by my government, but I
will say that the duty we are on here is part of a well-laid plan of our
commander, and this seeming arrest is a part of the plan. This colored
sergeant is innocent. He is simply obeying orders, and is a humble
instrument in carrying out our plan. I expected to be arrested before
morning, but hoped it would be after our party. However, we soldiers have
to go where ordered. We shall be thrown into prison for a time, but when
this detective or secret service work on which we are engaged is done, we
will take pleasure in calling upon you again, wearing such laurels as we
may win. We bid you good-night, and wish you much happiness.” They all
shook hands with us, evidently believing what I had said, and even the
sergeant seemed to take it in, for, after the crowd had gone, the sergeant
said, “You will excuse me, kernel, for what I have done. I didn't know
about any 'plan.' All I knew was dat the provost-marshal told me to go up
to Carrollton and pull dem recruits dat was camping at de beer garden, and
fotch 'em to de guard-house.” I told him he did perfectly right, and then
we recruits packed up our things and marched with the colored soldiers to
New Orleans, about six miles, and we slept in the guard-house. The next
morning the provost-marshal called upon us, damned us a little for not
insisting on being sent to our regiments, found out that my regiment was
up the river two hundred miles, and seemed mad because I passed it when I
come from St. Louis. I told him I was not expected to go hunting around
for my regiment, like a lost calf. What I wanted was for my regiment to
hunt me up. That afternoon he put me on an up-river boat with a tag on my
baggage telling where I belonged, and I bid good-bye to the recruits,
after having had three months of fun at the expense of Uncle Sam.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />