CHAPTER XI.
I am Detailed to Build a Bridge-It Was a Good Bridge, but Over the Wrong Stream--The General Appears--I am Crushed, in Fact Pulverized!--I am Attacked with Rheumatism.
After the episode, related last week, in which I foolishly organizeda regular battle, to capture a supposed rebel, who turned out to be amember of my own regiment, I expected to be the laughing stock of allthe soldiers, and that my commission as corporal would be taken awayfrom me, and that I would be reduced to the ranks, and when, the nextmorning, the colonel sent for me to come to his tent, it was a stand-offwith me whether I would take to the woods and desert, in disgrace, andnever show up again, or go to the colonel, face the music, and admitthat I had made an ass of myself. Finally I decided to visit thecolonel. On the way to his tent I noticed that our force had beenaugmented greatly. The road was full of wagons, the fields near us werefilled with infantry and artillery, and there were fifty wagons or moreloaded with pontoons, great boats, or the frame-work of boats, whichwere to be covered with canvass, which was water-proof, and the boatswere to be used for bridges across streams. The colonel had not told meanything about the expected arrival of more troops, and it worried me agood deal. May be there was a big battle coming off, and I might blunderinto it unconscious of danger, and: get the liver blowed out of me by acannon. I felt that the colonel had not treated me right in keeping mein ignorance of all this preparation. I went to the colonel's tentand there was quite a crowd of officers, some with artillery uniforms,several colonels, and one general with a star on his shoulder straps,and a crooked sword with a silver scabbard, covered with gold trimmings.I felt quite small with those big officers, but I tried to look brave,and as though I was accustomed to attending councils of war. The colonelsmiled at me as I came in which braced me up a good deal.
General, this is the sergeant I spoke to you about, said the colonel,as he turned from a map they had been looking at. I felt pale when thecolonel addressed me as sergeant, and was going to call his attention tothe mistake, when the general said:
Sergeant, the colonel tells me that you can turn your hand to almostanything. What line of business have you worked at previous to yourenlistment?
"Well, I guess there is nothing that is usually done in a countryvillage that I have not done. I have clerked in a grocery, tended bar,drove team on a threshing machine, worked in a slaughter house,drove omnibus, worked in a-saw-mill, learned the printing trade, rodesaw-logs, worked in a pinery, been brakeman on a freight train, acted asassistant chambermaid in a livery stable, clerked in a hotel, worked ona farm, been an auctioneer, edited a newspaper, took up the collectionin church, canvassed for books, been life-insurance agent, worked atbridge-building, took tintypes, sat on a jury, been constable, beendeck-hand on a steamboat, chopped cord-wood, run a cider-mill, and drovea stallion in a four-minute race at a county fair."
"That will do," said the general. "You will be placed in charge of apioneer corps, and you will go four miles south, on the road, wherea bridge has been destroyed across a small bayou, build a new bridgestrong enough to cross artillery, then move on two miles to a river youwill find, and look out a good place to throw a pontoon bridge across.The first bridge you will build under an artillery fire from the rebels,and when it is done let a squad of cavalry cross, then the pontoontrain, and a regiment of infantry. Then light out for the river ahead ofthe pontoon train, with the cavalry. The pioneer corps will be ready infifteen minutes."
The colonel told me to hurry up, but I called him out of his tent andasked him if I was really a sergeant, or if it was a mirage. He said ifI made a success of that bridge, and the command got across, and I wasnot killed I would be appointed sergeant. He said the general wouldtry me as a bridge-builder, and if I was a success he would try me, nodoubt, in other capacities, such as driving team on a threshing machine,and editing a newspaper.
When, I went on after my horse, being pretty proud. The idea of beingpicked out of so many non-commissioned officers, and placed in charge ofa pioneer corps, and sent ahead of the army to rebuild a bridge that hadbeen destroyed, with a prospect of being promoted or killed, was gloryenough for one day, and I rode back to headquarters feeling that thesuccess of the whole expedition rested on me. If I built a corduroybridge that would pass that whole army safely over, artillery and all,would anybody enquire who built the bridge. Of course, if I built abridge that would break down, and drown somebody, everybody would knowwho built it. The twenty men were mounted, and ready, and the generaltold me to go to the quartermaster and get all the tools I wanted, and Itook twenty axes, ten shovels, two log chains, and was riding away, whenthe general said:
"When you get there, and look the ground over, make up your mind exactlyat what hour and minute you can have the bridge completed, and send acourier back to inform me, and at that hour the head of the column willbe there, and the bridge must be ready to cross on."
I said that would be all right, and we started out. In about fortyminutes we had arrived, at the bayou, and I called a private soldierwho used to do logging in the woods, and we looked the thing over. Thetimber necessary was right on the bank of the stream.
"Jim," I said to the private, "I have got to build a bridge across thisstream strong enough to cross artillery. I shall report to the generalthat he can send, along his artillery at seventeen minutes after eight oclock this evening. Am I right?"
"Well," said Jim, as he looked at the standing timber, at the stream,and spit some black tobacco juice down on the red ground, "I should makeit thirty-seven minutes after eight. You see, a shell may drop in hereand kill a mule, or something, and delay us. Make it thirty-seven, and Iwill go you."
We finally compromised by splitting the difference, and I sent a courierback to the general, with my compliments, and with the informationthat at precisely eight o clock and twenty-seven minutes he could startacross. Then we fell to work. Large, long trees were cut for stringers,and hewn square, posts were made to prop up the stringers, though thestringers would have held any weight. Then small trees were cut andflattened on two sides, for the road-bed, holes bored in them and pegsmade to drive through them into the stringers. A lot of cavalry soldiersnever worked as those men did. Though there was only twenty of them,it seemed as though the woods were full of men. Trees were falling, andaxes resounding, and men yelling at mules that were hauling logs, andthe scene reminded me of logging in the Wisconsin pineries, only thesewere men in uniform doing the work. About the middle of the afternoon wehad the stringers across, when there was a half dozen shots heard downthe stream, and bullets began "zipping" all around the bridge, andwe knew the rebels were onto the scheme, and wanted it stopped. I gotbehind a tree when the bullets began to come, to think it over. My firstimpulse was to leave the bridge and go back and tell the general that Icouldn't build no bridge unless everything was quiet. That I had neverbuilt bridges where people objected to it. I asked the private what wehad better do. He said his idea was to knock off work on the bridge forjust fifteen minutes, cross the stream on the stringers, and go downthere in the woods and scare the life out of those rebels, drive themaway, and make them think the whole army was after them, then cross backand finish the bridge. That seemed feasible enough, so about a dozen ofus squirreled across the stringers with our carbines, and the rest wentdown the stream on our side, and all of us fired a dozen rounds from ourSpencer repeaters, right into the woods where the rebels seemed to be.When we did so, the rebels must have thought there was a million of us,for they scattered too quick, and we had a quiet life for two hours. Wehad got the bridge nearly completed, when there was a hissing soundin the air, a streak of smoke, and a powder magazine seemed to exploderight over us. I suppose I turned pale, for I had never heard anythinglike it. Says I, "Jim, excuse me, but what kind of a thing is that?"
Xcuse me, but what kind of a thing is that? 175]
Jim kept on at work, remarking, O, nothing only they are a shellin onus. And so that was a shell. I had read of shells and seen picturesof
them in _Harper's Weekly_, but I never supposed I would hear one.Presently another came, and I wanted to pack up and go away. I looked atmy pioneers, and they did not pay any more attention to the shells thanthey would, to the braying of mules. I asked Jim if there wasn't more orless danger attached to the building of bridges, in the South, and he,the old veteran, said:
"Corp, don't worry as long as they hain't got our range. Them 'ere shellare going half a mile beyond us, and we don't need to worry. Just letem think they are killing us off by the dozen, and they will keep onsending shells right over us. If we had a battery here to shell back,they would get our range, and make it pretty warm for us. But now it isall guess work with them, and we are as safe as we would be in Oshkosh.Let's keep right on with the bridge."
I never can explain what a comfort Jim's remarks were to me. Afterlistening to him, I could work right along, driving pegs in the bridge,and pay no attention to the shells that were going over us. In fact,I lit my pipe and smoked, and began to figure how much it was going tocost the Confederacy to "celebrate" that way. It was costing them at therate of fourteen dollars a minute, and I actually found myself laughingat the good joke on the rebels. Pretty soon a courier rode up, from thegeneral, asking if the shelling was delaying the bridge. I sent wordback that it was not delaying us in the least; in fact, it washurrying us a little, if anything, and he could send along his commandtwenty-seven minutes sooner than I had calculated, as the bridge wouldbe ready to cross on at eight o'clock sharp. At a quarter to eight, justas the daylight was fading, and we had lighted pine torches to see toeat our supper, an orderly rode up and said the general and staff hadbeen looking for me for an hour, and were down at the forks of theroad. I told the orderly to bring the general and staff right up to theheadquarters, and we would entertain them to the best of our ability,and he rode off. Then we sat down under a tree and smoked and playedseven up by the light of pine torches, and waited. I was never so proudof anything in my life, as I was of that bridge, and it did not seemto me as though a promotion to the position of sergeant was going tobe sufficient recompense for that great feat of engineering. It was assmooth as though sawed plank had covered it, and logs were laid on eachside to keep wagons from running off. I could see, in my mind, hundredsof wagons, and thousands of soldiers, crossing safely, and I would be ahero. My breast swelled so my coat was too tight. Presently I heard someone swearing down the road, the clanking of sabres, and in a few momentsthe general rode into the glare of the torch-light. I had struck anattitude at the approach of the bridge, and thought that I would givea good deal if an artist could take a picture of my bridge, with me, thegreat engineer, standing upon it, and the head of the column justready to cross. I was just getting ready to make a little speech to thegeneral, presenting the bridge to him, as trustee of the nation, for theuse of the army, when I got a sight of his face, as a torch flared upand lit the surroundings. It was pale, and if he was not a madman, Inever saw one. He fairly frothed at the mouth, as he said, addressing asoldier who had fallen in the stream, during the afternoon, and who wasputting on his shirt, which he had dried by a fire:
"Where is the corporal, the star idiot, who built that bridge?"
I couldn't have been more surprised if he had killed me. This was a niceway to inquire for a gentleman who had done as much for the country asI had, in so short a time. I felt hurt, but, summoning to my aid all thegall I possessed, I stepped forward, and, in as sarcastic a manner as Icould assume, I said:
"I am the sergeant, sir, who has wrought this work, made a highway intwelve hours, across a torrent, and made is possible for your army tocross."
"Well, what do you suppose my army wants to cross this confounded ditchfor? What business has the army got in that swamp over there? You havegone off the main road, where I wanted a bridge built, and built one ona private road to a plantation, where nobody wants to cross. This bridgeis of no more use to me than a bridge across the Mississippi river atits source. You, sir, have just simply raised hell, that's what you havedone."
Talk about being crushed! I was pulverized. I felt like jumping into thestream and drowning myself. For a moment I could not speak, because Ihadn't anything to say. Then I thought that it would be pretty tough togo off and leave that bridge without the general's seeing what a goodjob it was, so I said:
"Well, general, I am sorry you did not give me more explicitinstructions, but I wish you would get down and examine this bridge. Itis a daisy, and if it is not in the right place we can move it anywhereyou want it."
That seemed to give the general an idea, and he dismounted and examinedit. He said it was as good a job as he ever saw, and if it was a miledown the road, across another bayou, where he wanted to cross, he wouldgive a fortune. I told him if he would give me men enough and wagonsenough, I would move it to where he wanted it, and have it ready bydaylight the next morning. He agreed, and that was the hardest nightswork I ever did. Every stick of timber in my pet bridge had to be takenoff separately, and moved over a mile, but it was done, and at daylightthe next morning I had the pleasure of calling the general and tellinghim that the bridge was ready. I thought he was a little mean when hewoke up and rubbed his eyes, and said:
"Now, you are sure you have got it in the right place this time, for ifthat bridge has strayed away onto anybody's plantation this time, youdie."
The army crossed all right, and I had the proud pleasure of standing bythe bridge until the last man was across, when I rode up to my regimentand reported to the colonel, pretty tired.{*} He was superintending thelaying of a pontoon bridge across a large river, a few miles from mybridge, and he said:
"George, the general was pretty hot last night, but he was to blameabout the mistake in the location, and he says he is going to try andget you a commission as lieutenant."
* A few weeks ago I met a member of my old regiment, who is traveling through the South as agent for a beer bottling establishment in the North. He was with me when we built the corduroy bridge twenty-two years ago. As we were talking over old-times he asked me if I remembered that bridge we built one day in Alabama, in the wrong place, and moved it during the night. I told him I wished I had as many dollars as I remembered that bridge. "Well," said my comrade, "on my last trip through Alabama I crossed that bridge, and paid two bits for the privilege of crossing. A man has established a toll-gate at the bridge, and they say he has made a fortune. I asked him how much his bridge cost him, and he said it didn't cost him a cent, as the Yankees built it during the war. He said they cut the timber on his land, and when he got out of the Confederate army he was busted, and he claimed the bridge, and got a charter to keep a toll- gate." My comrade added that the bridge was as sound as it was when it was built. He said he asked the toll-gate keeper if he knew the bridge was first built a mile away, and he said he knew the timber was cut up there, and he wondered what the confounded Yankees went away off there to cut the timber for, when they could get it right on the bank. Then my comrade told the toll-gate keeper that he helped build the bridge, the rebel thanked him, and wanted to pay back the two bits. Some day I am going down to Alabama and cross on that bridge again, the bridge that almost caused me to commit suicide, and if that old rebel-for he must be an old rebel now--charges me two bits toll, I shall very likely pull off my coat and let him whip me, and then as likely as not there will be another war.
I felt faint, but I said, "How can he recommend a star idiot for acommissioned office?"
"O, that is all right," said, the colonel, "some of the greatest idiotsin the army have received commisssions." As he spoke the rebels began toshell the place where the pontoon bridge was being built, and I wenthunting for a place to borrow an umbrella to hold over me, to ward offthe pieces of shell. Then a battery of our own opened on the rebels, sonear me that every time a gun was discharged I could, feel the roof ofmy head raise up like the cover to a band box. It was the wildest tim
eI ever saw. Cavalry was swimming the river to charge the rebel battery,shells were exploding all around, and it seemed to me as though if I wasto lay a pontoon bridge I would go off somewhere out of the way, whereit would be quiet. Finally my regiment was ordered to swim the river,and we rode in. The first lunge my horse made he went under water abouta mile, and when we came up I was not on him, but catching hold of histail I was dragged across the river nearly drowned, and landed on thebank like a dog that has been after a duck I shook myself, we mountedand without waiting to dry out our clothes we went into the fight,before I could realize it, or back out. Scared! I was so scared it isa wonder I did not die. That was more excitement than a county fair.Bullets whizzing, shells shrieking, smoke stifling, yelling that wasdeafening. It seemed as though I was crazy. I must have been or I couldnever, as a raw recruit, with no experience, have ridden right towardthose guns that were belching forth sulphur and pieces of blacksmithshop. I didn't dare look anywhere except right ahead. All thoughtof being hit by bullets or anything was completely out of my mind.Occasionally something would go over me that sounded as though a buzzsaw had been fired from a saw mill explosion. Presently the firing onthe rebel side ceased, and it was seen they were in retreat. I was neverso glad of anything in my life. We stopped, and I examined my clothes,and they were perfectly dry. The excitement and warmth of the body hadacted like a drying-room in a laundry. Then I laid down under a fenceand went to sleep, and dreamed I was in hades, building a corduroybridge across the Styx, and that the devil repremanded me for buildingit in the wrong place. When I awoke I was so stiff with rheumatismthat I had to be helped up from under the fence, and they put me inan ambulance with a soldier who had his jaw shot off. He was not goodcompany, because I had to do all the talking. And in that way we movedtowards the enemy.
How Private George W. Peck Put Down the Rebellion Page 11