Si Klegg, Book 1

by John McElroy

  CHAPTER XXI. SI AND SHORTY WERE RAPIDLY LEARNING

  THE GREAT MILITARY TRUTH

  THAT IN THE ARMY THE MOST LIKELY THING TO HAPPEN IS SOMETHING ENTIRELYUNLIKELY.

  COL. TERRENCE P. McTARNAGHAN, as his name would indicate, had firstopened his eyes where the blue heavens bend over the evergreen sod ofIreland. Naturally, therefore, he thought himself a born soldier,and this conviction had been confirmed by a year's service as SecondLieutenant of Volunteers in the Mexican War, and subsequent connectionwith the Indiana Militia. Being an Irishman, when he went in foranything, and especially soldiering, he went in with all his might.He had associated with Regular Army officers whenever there was anopportunity, and he looked up to them with the reverence and emulationthat an amateur gives to a professional. Naturally he shared theiridea that an inspection and parade was the summit of military art.Consequently, the main thing to make the 200th Ind. the regiment itshould be were frequent and rigid inspections.

  Fine weather, two days of idleness, and the prospect that the regimentwould remain there some time watching the crossing of the Cumberlandwere enough and more than enough to set the Colonel going. The Adjutantpublished the following order:

  Headquarters 200th Indiana, In the Field, on the Cumberland,

  Nov. 25, 1862.

  I. The Regiment will be paraded for inspection tomorrow afternoon at 4 o'clock.

  II. Captains will be expected to parade the full strength of their companies.

  III. A half hour before the parade. Captains will form their companies in the company streets and inspect every man.

  IV. The men will be required to have their clothes neatly brushed, blouses buttoned up, clean underclothes, shoes blacked, letters and numbers polished, and arms and accouterments in best condition. They will wear white gloves.

  V. The man who has his clothes, arms and accouterments in the best order will be selected for the Colonel's Orderly.

  By command of

  Attest: COL. TERRENCE P. McTARNAGHAN, Colonel.

  B. B. LAUGHLIN, Adjutant.

  When Capt. McGillicuddy marched Co. Q back to its street, he calledattention to the order with a few terse admonitions as to what it meantto every one.

  "Get at this as soon as you break ranks, boys," urged the Captain. "Youcan do a whole lot between now and tattoo. The others will, and you mustnot let them get ahead of you. No straw in knapsacks this time."

  Company spirit was high, and it would be little short of a calamity tohave Co. Q beaten in anything.

  There was a rush to the Sutler for white gloves, blacking, needles,thread, paper collars, sweet oil and rotten stone for the guns.

  That genial bird of prey added 50 per cent to his prices, because itwas the first business he had done for some weeks; 50 per cent more forkeeping open in the evening, another 50 per cent for giving credit tillpay day, and still another for good will.

  The Government had just offered some very tempting gold-interest bonds,of which he wanted a swad.

  "'Tain't right to let them green boys have their hull $13 a month towaste in foolishness," he said. "Some good man should gather it up andmake a right use of it."

  Like Indiana farmer boys of his class. Si Klegg was cleanly but notneat. Thanks to his mother and sisters, his Sunday clothes were always"respectable," and he put on a few extra touches when he expected tomeet Annabel. He took his first bath for the year in the Wabash a weekor two after the suckers began to run, and his last just before thewater got so cold as to make the fish bite freely.

  Such a thing as a "dandy" was particularly distasteful to him.

  "Shorty," said Si, as he watched some of the boys laboring withsandpaper, rotten stone and oil to make the gunbarrels shine likesilver, "what's the cense o' bein' so partickler about the outside of agun? The business part's inside. Making them screw heads look like beadsdon't make it no surer of gitting Mr. Butternut."

  "Trouble about you folks on the Wabash," answered Shorty, as he twisteda screw head against some emery paper, "is that you don't pay enoughattention to style. Style goes a long ways in this vain and wicked world,"(and his eyes became as if meditating on worlds he had known which werenot so vain and wicked), "and when I see them Kokomo persimmon knockersof Co. B hustling to put on frills, I'm going to beat 'em if I don't layup a cent."

  "Same here," said Si, falling to work on his gunbarrel. "Just as' nicepeople moved into Posey County as squatted in Kokomo. Gang o' hossthieves first settled Howard County."

  "Recollect that big two fister from Kokomo who said he'd knock yourhead off if you ever throwed that up to him again?" grinned Shorty."You invited him to try it on, an' he said your stripes stopped him. Youpulled off your blouse, and you said you had no stripes on your shirtsleeves. But I wouldn't say it again until those Co. B fellers try againto buck us out of our place in the ration line. It's too good a slam towaste."

  Tattoo sounded before they had finished their guns and accouterments.These were laid aside to be completed in the full light of day.

  The next morning work was resumed with industry stimulated by reports ofthe unusual things being done by the other companies.

  "This Tennessee mud sticks closer'n a $500 mortgage to a 40-acre tract,"sighed Si, as he stopped beating and brushing his blouse and pantaloons.

  "Or, "'Aunt Jemima's plaster, "The more you try to pull it off the more it sticks the faster."

  hummed Shorty, with what breath he had left from his violent exercise.

  So well did they work that by dinner time they felt ready forinspection, careful reconnoissances of the other companies showing themto have no advantages.

  Next to the Sutler's for the prescribed white gloves.

  Si' had never worn anything on his hands but warm, woolen mittens knitfor him by his mother, but the order said white gloves, and glovesthey must have. The accommodating sutler made another stoppage in theirmonth's pay of $1 for a pair of cheap, white cotton gloves. By this timethe sutler had accumulated enough from the 200th Ind. to secure quite ahandful of gold interest-bearing bonds.

  "Well, what do you think of them. Si?" said Shorty, as he worked hisgenerous hands into a pair of the largest sized gloves and held them upto view.

  "If they were only painted yaller and had a label on them," said Si,"they could be issued for Cincinnati canvas covered hams."

  Shorty's retort was checked by hearing the bugle sound the officers'call. The Colonel announced to them that owing to the threatening lookof the skies the parade and inspection would take place in an hour.

  There was feverish haste to finish undone things, but when Capt.McGillicuddy looked over his men in the company street, he declaredhimself proud to stack up Co. Q against any other in the regiment. Gunbarrels and bayonets shone like silver, rammers rang clear, and came outwithout a stain to the Captain's white gloves.

  The band on the parade ground struck up the rollicking

  "O, ain't I glad to git out of the wilderness, Out of the wilderness-Out of the wilderness,"

  and Capt. McGillicuddy marched proudly out at the head of 75broad-shouldered, well-thewed young Indianians, fit and fine as anysouth of the Ohio.

  The guides, holding their muskets butts up, indicated where the line wasto form, the trim little Adjutant, glorious as the day in a new uniformand full breasted as a pouter-pigeon, was strutting over toward theband, and the towering red-headed Colonel, martial from his waving plumeto his jangling spurs, stood before his tent in massive dignity, waitingfor the color company to come up and receive the precious regimentalstandard.

  This scene of orderly pomp and pageantry was rudely disturbed by anAid dashing in on a sweating horse, and calling out to the statuesquecommander:

  "Colonel, a train is stalled in the creek about three miles from here,and is threatened with capture by Morgan's cavalry. The Generalpresents his compliments, and directs that you take your regiment on th
edouble-quick to the assistance of the train. You v'e not a moment lose."

  "Tare and 'ounds!" swore the Colonel in the classic he used when excited,"am I niver to have a dacint inspection? Orderly, bring me me harse.Stop that band's ijiotic blatting. Get into line there, quick as lovewill let you, you unblessed Indiana spalpeans. Without doubling; rightface! Forward, M-a-r-c-h!"

  Col. McTarnaghan, still wearing his parade grandeur, was soon at thehead of the column, on that long-striding horse which always set such ahot pace for the regiment; especially over such a rough, gullied road asthey were now traveling.

  Still, the progress was not fast enough to suit the impatient Colonel,who had an eye to the report he would have to make to the BrigadierGeneral, who was a Regular.

  "Capt. McGillicuddy," commanded he, turning in his saddle, "send forwarda Corporal and five men for an advance guard."

  "Corporal Klegg, take five men and go to the front," commanded theCaptain.

  "Now you b'yes, get ahead as fast as you can. Get a move on them durtyspalpanes of tamesters. We must get back to camp before this stormstrikes us. Shove out, now, as if the divil or Jahn Morgan was afteryez."

  It was awful double-quicking over that rocky, rutty road, but takingShorty and four others. Si went on the keen jump to arrive hot andbreathless on the banks of the creek. There he found a large beardedman wearing an officer's slouched hat sitting on a log, smoking ablack pipe, and gazing calmly on the ruck of wagons piled up behind onestalled in the creek, which all the mules they could hitch to it hadfailed to pull out.

  It was the Wagon Master, and his calmness was that of exhaustion. He hadyelled and sworn himself dry, and was collecting another fund of abuseto spout at men and animals.

  "Here, why don't you git a move on them wagons?" said Si hotly, for hewas angered at the man's apparent indifference.

  "'Tend to your own business and I'll tend to mine," said the WagonMaster, sullenly, without removing his pipe or looking at Si.

  "Look here, I'm a Corporal, commanding the advance guard," said Si. "Iorder you!"

  This seemed to open the fountains of the man's soul.

  "You order me?" he yelled, "you splay-footed, knock-kneed,chuckled-headed paper-collared, whitegloved sprat from a milk-sickprairie. Corporal! I outrank all the Corporals from here to Christmas ofnext year."

  "The gentleman seems to have something on his mind," grinned Shorty."Mebbe his dinner didn't set well."

  "Shorty?" inquired Si, "how does a Wagon Master rank? Seems to me nobodylower'n a Brigadier-General should dare talk to me that way."

  "Dunno," answered Shorty, doubtfully. "Seems as if I'd heard some ofthem Wagon Masters rank as Kurnels. He swears like one."

  "Corporal!" shouted the Wagon Master with infinite scorn. "Measly$2-a-month water toter for the camp-guard, order me!" and he went offinto a rolling stream of choice "army language."

  "He must certainly be a Kurnel," said Shorty.

  "Here," continued the Wagon Master, "if you don't want them twoshoat-brands jerked offen you, jump in and get them wagons acrost.That's what you were sent to do. Hump yourself, if you know what's goodfor you. I've done all I can. Now it's your turn."

  Dazed and awed by the man's authoritativeness the boys ran down to thewater to see what was the trouble.

  They found the usual difficulty in Southern crossings. The stupidtinkerers with the road had sought to prevent it running down into thestream by laying a log at the edge of the water. This was an enormousone two feet in diameter, with a chuckhole before it, formed by theefforts of the teams to mount the log. The heavily laden ammunitionwagon had its hub below the top of the log, whence no amount ofmule-power could extricate it.

  Si, with Indiana commonsense, saw that the only help was to push thewagon back and lay a pile of poles to make a gradual ascent. He and therest laid their carefully polished muskets on dry leaves at the side,pulled off their white gloves, and sending two men to hunt thru thewagons for axes to cut the poles. Si and Shorty roused up the stupidteamsters to unhitch the mules and get them behind the wagon to pullit back. Alas for their carefully brushed pantaloons and well-blackenedshoes, which did not last a minute in the splashing mud.

  The Wagon Master had in the meanwhile laid in a fresh supply of epithetsand had a fresh batch to swear at. He stood up on the bank and yelledprofane injunctions at the soldiers like a Mississippi River Mate at aboat landing. They would not work fast enough for him, nor do the rightthing.

  The storm at last burst. November storms in Tennessee are like thecharge of a pack of wolves upon a herd of buffalo. There are wild,furious rushes, alternating with calmer intervals. The rain came downfor a few minutes as if it would beat the face off the earth, and thestream swelled into a muddy torrent. Si's paper collar and cuffs at oncebecame pulpy paste, and his boiled shirt a clammy rag. In spite of thishis temper rose to the boiling point as he struggled thru the sweepingrush of muddy water to get the other wagons out of the road and theammunition wagon pulled back a little ways to allow the poles to bepiled in front of it.

  The dashing downpour did not check the Wagon Master's flow of profanity.He only yelled the louder to make himself heard above the roar. Therain stopped for a few minutes as suddenly as it had begun and Col.McTarnaghan came up with all his parade finery drenched and drippinglike the feathers of a prize rooster in a rainy barnyard. His Irishtemper was at the steaming point, and he was in search of something tovent it on.

  "You blab-mouthed son of a thief," he shouted at the Wagon Master, "whatare you ordering my men around for? They are sent here to order you, notyou to order them. Shut that ugly potato trap of yours and get down towork, or I'll wear my saber out on you. Get down there and put your ownshoulders to the wheels, you misbegotten villain. Get down there intothe water, I tell you. Corporal, see that he does his juty!"

  The Wagon Master slunk down the hill, where Shorty grabbed him by thecollar and yanked him over to help push one of the wagons back. Theother boys had meanwhile found axes, cut down and trimmed up some pinepoles and were piling them into the chuckhole under Si's practicalguidance. A double team was put on the ammunition wagon, and the rest ofCo. Q came up wet, mad and panting. A rope was found and stretched aheadof the mules, on which the company lined itself, the Colonel took hisplace on the bank and gave the word, and with a mighty effort the wagonwas dragged up the hill. Some other heavily loaded ammunition wagonsfollowed. The whole regiment was now up, and the bigger part of it linedon the rope so that these wagons came up more easily, even tho the rainresumed its wicked pounding upon the clay soil.

  Wading around thru the whirling water. Si had discovered, to hisdiscomfiture, that there was a narrow, crooked reef that had to be keptto. There were deep overturning holes on either side. Into one of theseSi had gone, to come again floundering and spurting muddy water from hismouth.

  Shorty noted the place and took the first opportunity to crowd the WagonMaster into it.

  A wagon loaded with crackers and pork missed the reef and went overhopelessly on its side, to the rage of Col. McTamaghan.

  "Lave it there; lave it there, ye blithering numbskulls," he yelled,"Unhitch those mules and get 'em out. The pork and wagon we can get whenthe water goes down. If another wagon goes over Oi'll rejuce it everymother's son of yez, and tie yez up by the thumbs besides."

  Si and Shorty waded around to unhitch the struggling mules, and then,taking poles in hand to steady themselves, took their stations in thestream where they could head the mules right.

  Thru the beating storm and the growing darkness, the wagons were, one byone, laboriously worked over until, as midnight approached, only threeor four remained on the other side. Chilled to the bone, and almostdropping with fatigue from hours of standing in the deep water runninglike a mill race. Si called Al Klapp, Sib Ball and Jesse Langley to taketheir poles and act as guides.

  Al Klapp had it in for the sutlers. He was a worm that was ready toturn. He had seen some previous service, and had never gone to thePaymaster's table
but to see the most of his $13 a month swept awayby the sutler's remorseless hand. He and Jesse got the remaining armywagons over all right. The last wagon was a four-horse team belonging toa sutler.

  The fire of long-watched-for vengeance gleamed in Al's eye as he madeout its character in the dim light. It reached the center of the stream,when over it went in the rushing current of muddy water.

  Al and Jesse busied themselves unhooking the struggling mules.

  The Colonel raged. "Lave it there! Lave it there!" he yelled afterexhausting his plentiful stock of Irish expletives. "But we must lave aguard with it. Capt. Sidney Hyde, your company has been doing lessthan any other. Detail a Sergeant and 10 men to stand guard here untiltomorrow, and put them two thick-headed oudmahouns in the creek on guardwith them. Make them stand double tricks.

  "All right. It was worth it," said Al Klapp, as the Sergeant put him onpost, with the water running in rivulets from his clothes. "It'll takea whole lot of skinning for the sutlers to get even for the dose I'vegiven one of them."

  "B'yes, yoi've done just splendid," said the Colonel, coming over towhere Si and Shorty were sitting wringing the water and mud from theirpantaloons and blouses. "You're hayroes, both of yez. Take a wee drapfrom my canteen. It'll kape yez from catching cold."

  "No, thankee, Kurnel," said Si, blushing with delight, and forgettinghis fatigue and discomfort, in this condescension and praise from hiscommanding officer. "I'm a Good Templar."

  "Sinsible b'y," said the Colonel approvingly, and handing his canteen toShorty.

  "I'm mightily afraid of catching cold," said Shorty, reaching eagerlyfor the canteen, and modestly turning his back on the Colonel that hemight not see how deep his draft.

  "Should think you were," mused the Colonel, hefting the lightenedvessel. "Bugler, sound the assembly and let's get back to camp."

  The next day the number of rusty muskets, dilapidated accoutermentsand quantity of soiled clothes in the camp of the 200th Ind. was onlyequaled by the number of unutterably weary and disgusted boys.