Si Klegg, Book 1

by John McElroy

  CHAPTER XX. "THE SWEET SABBATH"

  HOW THE BLESSED DAY OF REST WAS SPENT IN THE ARMY.

  "TOMORROW'S Sunday, ye know," said the Orderly of Company Q one Saturdaynight at roll-call.

  This was in the nature of news to the boys. But for the announcementvery few of them would have known it. The Orderly was not distinguishedfor his piety, and it is not likely that the approach of Sunday wouldhave occurred to him if the Sergeant-Major had not come around withorders from the Colonel for a proper observance of the day. The Colonelhimself would not have thought of it either, if the Chaplain had notreminded him of it. Everybody wondered how even the Chaplain could keeptrack of the days well enough to know when Sunday came--but that waschiefly what he wore shoulder-straps and drew his salary for. It was thegeneral impression that he either carried an almanac in his pocket, orelse a stick in which he cut a notch every day with his jack-knife, andin that way managed to know when a new week began.

  "There'll be guard-mountin' at 9 o'clock," continued the Orderly,"regimental inspection at 10, preachin' at 11, an' dress-parade at 5 inthe evenin'. All of ye wants to tumble out right promptly at revelleean' git yer breakfast, an' then clean up yer guns an' put all yer trapsin apple-pie order, 'cause the Colonel's goin' to look at 'em. He's gotsharp eyes, an' I reck'n he'll be mighty pertickler. If there's anythingthat ain't jest right he'll see it quicker'n litenin'. Ye know we hain'thad any inspections yet, an' the Cap'n wants us to be the boss company.So ye've got to scratch around lively in the mornin'."

  "Say," said Corporal Klegg, after the company had broken ranks, "seemsto me there wa'n't no use in the Orderly tellin' us to 'scratch around,'fer we're doin' that purty much all the time, now that the graybacks isgittin' in their work on us."

  Shorty smiled faintly at what he seemed to consider a rather feeblejoke, even for Si.

  The 200th Ind. had now been in the field for many weeks, but it had beencontinually cantering about the country, and the Generals had kept itparticularly active on Sundays. Probably this regiment did not manifestany more than the average degree of enthusiasm and fervor in religiousmatters, but there were many in its ranks who, at home, had always satunder Gospel ministrations, and to tramp on Sundays, the same as otherdays, was, at first, a rude shock to their moral sensibilities. Thesewere yet keen, the edges had not been worn off and blunted and batteredby the hard knocks of army life. True, they could scarcely tell whenSunday came, but they knew that they kept right along every day.

  "Shorty," said Si, after they had curled up under the blanket for thenight, "'pears to me it'll seem sort o' nice to keep Sunday agin. Atthe rate we've bin goin' on we'll all be heathens by the time we githome--if we ever do. Our Chaplain haint had no chance to preachify yet.The boys of Comp'ny X, w'at knows him, says he's a staver, 'n' I b'lieveit'll make us all feel better to have him talk to us once. 'Twont dous no harm, nohow, I'd like to be home to-morrer 'n' go to church withmother, 'n' sister Marier, 'n'--er--I mean the rest of the folks. ThenI'd jest eat all the afternoon. I ain't goin' ter git homesick, Shorty;but a feller can't help feelin' a little streaked once 'n' a while.Mebbe it's a good idee fer 'em to keep us on the jump, fer then we don'tgit no chance to think 'bout it. I don't suppose I'm the only boy 'n theregiment that 'd be glad to git a jest fer to-morrer. I sh'd want ter beback bright 'n' arly to fall in Monday mornin', fer I'm goin' to stickto the 200th through thick 'n' thin, if I don't git knocked out. Say,Shorty, how d'ye feel, any way?"

  But Shorty was already fast asleep. Si spooned up to him and was soon,in his dreams, away up in Posey County.

  The sound of the bugle and drum, at daylight, fell upon unwilling ears,for the soldiers felt the same indisposition to get up early Sundaymorning that is everywhere One of the characteristics of moderncivilization. Their beds were hard, but to their weary limbs no couch ofdown ever gave more welcome rest than did the rough ground on which theylay. But the wild yell of the Orderly, "Turn out for roll-call!" withthe thought of the penalties for non-obedience--which some of them hadabundant reason to remember--quickly brought out the laggards.

  Si and Shorty were, as usual, among the first to take their places inline. They were pleasantly greeted by the Captain, who had come out onthe run at the last moment, and wriggled himself into his coat as hestrode along the company street. The Captain did not very often appearat morning rollcall. But one officer of the company was required to bepresent, and the Captain generally loaded this duty upon the Lieutenants"turn about." If he did show up, he would go back to bed and snooze foran hour while the cook was getting breakfast. If one of the men did thathe would soon be promenading with a rail on his shoulder or standing ona barrel with a stick or a bayonet tied in his mouth.

  "I think that's a fust rate notion to mount the guards," said Si toShorty as they sat on a rail by the fire making coffee and frying bacon."It'll be so much better 'n walkin' back 'n' forrard on the beats.Wonder 'f they'll give us bosses or mules to ride."

  "I'd like to know what put that idee into yer head," said Shorty.

  "Whydn't the Ord'ly say last night there 'd be guard-mountin' at 9o'clock this mornin'? I s'posed that fer a man to be mounted meantstraddlin' a boss or s'mother kind of an animal."

  "Ain't ye never goin' to larn nuthin'," said Shorty, with a laugh."Guard-mountin' don't mean fer the men to git on hosses. It's only thename they gives it in the Army Reggelations. Dunno why they calls itthat, 'nless it's 'cause the guards has to 'mount' anybody that tries topass 'thout the countersign. But don't ye fool yerself with thinkin'yer goin' to get to ride. We'll keep pluggin' along afoot, on guard oranywhere else, same's we have all the time."

  Thus rudely was shattered another of Si Klegg's bright illusions.

  The whole regiment turned out to witness the ceremony of guard-mounting.It was the first time the exigencies of the campaign had permittedthe 200th Ind. to do this in regular style. The Adjutant was the mostimportant personage, and stood so straight that he narrowly escapedfalling over backward. In order to guard against making a mess of it,he had spent half the night rehearsing the various commands in his tent.Thus prepared, he managed to get through it in very fair shape.

  SO STRAIGHT HE LEANED BACKWABD 211 ]

  The next thing on the program for the day was the inspection. Theboys had been industriously engaged in cleaning up their musketsand accouterments, and putting their scanty wardrobes in presentablecondition. In arranging his knapsack for the Colonel's eye, each mancarefully laid a clean shirt, if he had one, on the top. The garmentsthat were not clean he either stowed away in the tent or put at thebottom of the knapsack. In this he was actuated by the same principlethat prompts the thrifty farmer to put the biggest apples andstrawberries at the top of his measure.

  The clothing of the regiment was already in an advanced stage ofdemoralization. It was of the "shoddy" sort that a good hard wind wouldalmost blow to pieces.

  Corporal Klegg was anxious that not only his person, but all hisbelongings, should make as good an appearance as possible. He put on thebest and cleanest garments he had, and then betook himself to fixing hisknapsack so it would pass muster.

  "Them duds is a bad lot," he said to Shorty, casting rueful glancesat the little heap of soiled and ragged clothes. "Purty hard to make adecent show with them things."

  "Wait a minute," said Shorty, "an' I'll show ye a little trick."

  Taking his poncho under His arm. Shorty went to the rear of the camp,where the mules were feeding, and presently returned with a bunch ofhay.

  "What ye goin' to do with that?" asked Si.

  "You jest do 's I tell ye, and don't ask no questions. Cram some o' thishay into yer knapsack 'n' fill 'er up 'n' then put a shirt or suthin',the best ye kin find, on top, 'n' the Colonel 'll think she's full o'clothes right from the laundry. I'm goin' to fix mine that way."

  "Shorty, you're a trump!" said Si, approvingly. "That 'll be a bullyscheme."

  It required but a few minutes to carry out the plan. The hay was stuffedinto the knapsack, and all v
agrant spears were carefully tucked in.

  Then a garment, folded so as to conceal its worst features, was nicelyspread over the hay, the flaps were closed and buckled, and the youngHoosiers were ready for inspection.

  "S'posen the Colonel sh'd take a notion to go pokin' down into themknapsacks," said Si; "don't ye think it'd be purty cold weather for us?"

  "P'r'aps it mout," answered Shorty; "but we've got ter take the chances.He's got seven or eight hundred knapsacks to 'nspect, 'n' I don'tb'lieve he'll stick his nose down into very many on 'em!"

  At the appointed time the battalion was formed and the inspection wasgone through with in good style. The Colonel and the field and staffofficers, escorted by the Captain of each successive company, movedgradually between the ranks, their swords dangling around and gettingmixed up with their legs. The soldiers stood facing inward like so manywooden men, with their open knapsacks lying upon the ground at theirfeet. The Colonel looked sharply right and left, stopped now and then tocommend a soldier whose "straps" were in particularly good condition, orto "go for" another whose slouchy appearance betokened untidy habits. Ifa button was missing, or a shoe untied, his eye was keen to detect it,and a word of reproof was administered to the delinquent.

  As the Colonel started down the line of Company Q Si watched him out ofthe corners of his eyes with no little anxiety. His heart thumped as hesaw him occasionally stoop and fumble over the contents of a knapsack,evidently to test the truth of Longfellow's declaration that "things arenot what they seem." What if the Colonel should go down into the bowelsof Si's knapsack! Si fairly shuddered at the thought.

  Si, being the shortest of the Corporals, was at the foot of the company,while Shorty, on account of his hight, was well up toward the head. Sialmost fainted when he saw the Colonel stop in front of his "pard"and make an examination of his fatlooking knapsack. Military officialdignity gave way when the removal of the single garment exposed thestuffing of hay. The officers burst into a laugh at the unexpectedrevelation, while the boys on either side almost exploded in theirenjoyment of Shorty's discomfiture.

  SI ALMOST PANTED WHEN THE COLONEL STOPPED 215 ]

  "Captain," said the Colonel, with as much sternness as he could command,"as soon as your company is dismissed detail a guard to take charge ofthis man. Have him take the hay out of his knapsack and fill it withstones--and see that it is filled full. Have this man put it on andmarch him up and down the company street till church-call, and then takehim to hear the Chaplain. He needs to be preached to. Perhaps, betweenthe knapsack-drill and the Chaplain, we can straight him out."

  Corporal Klegg heard all this, and he wished the ground might openand swallow him. "These stripes is gone this time, sure!" he said tohimself, as he looked at the chevrons on his arm. "But there's no usegivin' yourself away, Si. Brace up, 'n' mebbe the Colonel 'll skip ye."

  Si had been badly shaken up by the Colonel's episode with Shorty, butby a great effort he gathered himself together and was at his best,externally, when the Colonel reached him, though his thoughts were in araging condition. His face was clean and rosy, and his general make-upwas as good as could be expected under the circumstances.

  The Colonel had always remembered Si as the soldier he had promotedto be a Corporal for his gallantry in the little skirmish a few daysbefore. As he came up he greeted the Corporal with a smile and a nod ofrecognition. He was evidently pleased at his tidy appearance. He casta glance at the voluptuous knapsack, and Si's heart seemed to sink awaydown into his shoes.

  But the fates smiled on Si that day. The Colonel turned to the Captainand told him that Corporal Klegg was the model soldier of Company Q. Siwas the happiest man in the universe at that precise moment. It was noton account of the compliment the Colonel had paid him, but because hisknapsack had escaped a critical inspection of its contents.

  The inspection over, Company Q marched back to its quarters and wasdismissed. Poor Shorty was soon tramping to and fro, under guard,humping his back to ease the load that had been put upon it. Si wasvery sorry for him, and at the same time felt a glow of pleasure at thethought that it was not his own knapsack instead of Shorty's that theColonel had examined. He could not help feeling, too, that it was agreat joke on Shorty to be caught in his own trap.

  SHORTY WAS THERE--WITH A GUARD 217 ]

  Shorty took his medicine like a man, marching up and down the rowof tents bravely and patiently, unheeding the gibes and jeers of hishard-hearted comrades.

  The bugle sounded the call for religious services. Shorty was not in aframe of mind that fitted him for devout worship. In fact, few in theregiment had greater need of the regenerating influence. He had neverbeen inside of a church but two or three times in his life, and hereally felt that to be compelled to go and listen to the Chaplain'ssermon was the hardest part of the double punishment the Colonel hadinflicted upon him.

  The companies were all marched to a wooded knoll just outside the camp.Shorty went by himself, save the companionship of the guard, with fixedbayonet. He had been permitted to leave his knapsack behind. He wastaken to a point near the Chaplain, that he might get the full benefitof the preacher's words.

  Under the spreading trees, whose foliage was brilliant with the huesof Autumn, in the mellow sunshine of that October day the men seatedthemselves upon the ground to hear the Gospel preached. The Chaplain,in his best uniform, stood and prayed fervently for Divine guidanceand protection and blessing, while the soldiers listened, with headsreverently bowed. Then he gave out the familiar Methodist hymn,

  "Am I a soldier of the cross,"

  and all joined in the old tune "Balerma," their voices swelling inmighty chorus. As they sang,

  "Are there no foes for me to face?"

  there came to the minds of many a practical application of the words, inview of the long and fruitless chase after the rebels in which they hadbeen engaged for nearly a month.

  The Chaplain had formerly been an old-fashioned Methodist circuit-riderin Indiana. He was full of fiery zeal, and portrayed the terrors ofeternal punishment so vividly that His hearers could almost feel theheat of the flame and smell the fumes of brimstone that are popularlybelieved to roll out unceasingly from the mouth of the bottomless pit.It ought to have had a salutary effect upon Shorty, but it is greatlyto be feared that he steeled his stubborn heart against all that theChaplain said.

  It was always difficult not to feel that there was somethingcontradictory and anomalous about religious services in the army.Grim-visaged, hideous war, and all its attendant circumstances,seemed so utterly at variance with the principles of the Bible andthe teachings of Him who was meek and lowly, that few soldiers hadphilosophy enough to reconcile them.

  The soldiers spent the afternoon in reading what few stray booksand fugitive, well-worn newspapers there were in camp, mending theirclothes, sleeping, and some of them, we are pained to add, in playingeucher, old sledge, and other sinful games. Dress parade closed theday that had brought welcome rest to the way-worn soldiers of the 200thInd..

  "Shorty," said Si, after they had gone to bed that night, "I sh'd bemighty sorry if I'd ha' got up that knapsack trick this mornin', 'causeyou got left on it so bad."

  "There's a good many things," replied Shorty, "that's all right when yedon't git ketched. It worked tip top with you, Si, 'n' I'm glad of it.But I put ye up to it, 'n' I shouldn't never got over it if the Colonelhad caught ye, on account of them stripes on yer arm. He'd ha' snatched'em baldheaded, sure's yer born. You're my pard, 'n' I'm jest as proudof 'em as you be yerself. I'm only a privit,' 'n' they can't rejuce meany lower! Besides, I 'low it sarved me right 'n' I don't keer fer theknapsack drill, so I didn't git you into a scrape."