Our lessons in the life of a soldier were just commencing. Our new camp
was, as we have stated, an old cattle pen or corral, and had at one time
been surrounded with a good substantial plank fence, now, however, the
only enclosure it had was a camp guard. In this place we found three
other Regiments, all new recruits like ourselves. The 85th and 86th
Ills., and the 52nd Ohio. With these Regiments we were Brigaded, and
remained so until the close of the war, the command being given to Col.
Dan'l McCook of the 52nd Ohio, who had smelt powder on Shiloh's bloody
field.
The rain, which had been a continuous drizzle, now assumed larger
proportions, and came down in regular and persistent style. We had no
tents, and of course were entirely without protection, but the American
soldier is not a man to long remain uncomfortable, when it is in his
power to prevent it, so from the fences adjacent, in spite of the guard,
we procured some lumber and soon built shelters from the storm. The next
day we were moved to a better camp, for the rain had rendered the old
cattle yard entirely unfit for use, if it ever had been. But Louisville
at this time was crowded with soldiers, camp followers, and all that
goes to sustain the life, and corrupt the morals of a large army. The
streets daily resounded to the tramp of marching feet, and the hurrying
hither and thither of General officers, members of their staff, and
mounted orderlies bearing dispatches to the different headquarters
through the city. The blare of the bugle, the braying of mules, the
thundering of artillery wheels, from the earliest dawn, until far into
the night, were reminders that the General of the Army was fully alive
to his trust, and was endeavoring to organize the forces under his
command into a shape that would render them manageable. As far as duty
was concerned, there was not much required of us, so we passed the time
making visits to old acquaintances in the 25th, 35th, 37th and 88th
Ills. Regiments which had come up with Buell from the South. But at last
the order came for moving. Everything was ready and we were to open up
the ball which ended at the fall of Richmond, and the surrender of Joe.
Johnston's Army in North Carolina.
The weather was very warm, but so far, no sickness of any great moment
had appeared among us, but of course there was some to answer the
surgeon's call, and receive their allowance of the good things he had
for them. We do not wish to cast any imputation on the medical branch of
the army, far from it. We are firm in the opinion that no army, either
in the fighting nations of Europe, or in any other land, ever had a
medical corps that could surpass our own in skill, dexterity, genuine
humanity, and a desire to do their whole duty, but it did seem to us
that quinine was the sheet anchor of their faith, and so it came to be a
standing joke, that quinine would cure all diseases to which our bodies
might be subject. On this morning, to which memory carries us back,
orders were given that reports of all who were sick, or in any way
disabled from marching, should be made out and forwarded to Regimental
headquarters, in order that they might be sent to hospital, or if
totally unfit for soldier life, to be discharged. We are of the opinion
still, and was at the time, that many men were mustered into the service
of the government, when our Regiment was organized, who were not fit for
the hardships and privations of army life, especially for active service
in the field, and this was owing to what seemed to us, the careless
examination made by the mustering officer. We were never examined by a
surgeon, as to bodily capacity. The only examination made was for each
man, as his name was called, to step out three paces and show his teeth
to the officer. The consequence was that when orders came for us to
leave Louisville, there were a great many who had to be discharged,
because totally unfit for soldier's life, and many also who had to be
sent to hospital. Others there were, who would have been perfectly
willing to have returned home, entirely satisfied with soldiering, if
they could only have had the opportunity. One case the writer remembers
which had a very ludicrous side to it, and we will insert it here. There
were two members of the Company to which we belonged, who were both
satisfied entirely with their share of glory, and were willing to resign
their positions as "high privates" to almost any one who wanted it. One
of these however, would be discharged, owing to his inability to march
(this was before the day of the invalid corps) by reason of a severe cut
he had at one time received in the foot from an ax, the other boy was a
fit subject for powder, but the patriotism which had filled his bosom,
when he enlisted had died out. He had gotten all the glory he wanted and
"Home—sweet—Home" was ringing in his ears. However, a discharge, in his
eyes, was something worth trying for at least, so he approached the
fellow who, by reason of his lameness, was to be discharged, and the
following colloquy ensued:
"Say, John, I want to get a discharge, how shall I manage it, can't you
help a fellow?"
"Get discharged! Why that's easy enough, I can get one for you."
"Can you? What'll you take to get it?"
"What'll I take? Why nothing. You go and get a pass for us to go down
town and I'll go to the medical director of the Post and soon fix you
out all right."
Away went the ex-patriot and soon returned with a pass and off they went
to call on the medical director. Going along the street says John to his
companion:
"Say, Ide! got any money?"
"Yes, a little."
John called a halt. "Well now, old fellow, I'll tell you, if I had a
little whisky I could talk a heap better to the doctor, you know, but I
hain't got a cent of money to buy any."
"Oh, if that's all," says Ide, thinking a discharge from the army for a
drink of whiskey a good enough bargain for him, "I've got money enough
to buy the whisky, where'll we get it?"
"I know, follow me," replied John, and he led him to a place where
liquor could be obtained on the sly, for it was against positive orders
for the citizens to sell any thing of the sort to a soldier, and
Louisville was then under martial law. Into this place they went, and
John having received the magic elixir, which was to open his mouth, and
loosen his tongue, was again ready to accompany his friend to the
doctor. But it was quite a distance from camp to the Director's office,
and before it was reached Ide had been obliged to replenish John's
stomach with whisky more than once. But at last they arrived at the
place.
"Now Ide you stay down here until I go up stairs, I won't be gone long
and when I come back I'll have your discharge."
John was feeling good; the whisky that Ide had furnished him had made
his faith in himself complete, so up the stairs he nimbly skipped,
leaving his friend below on the sidewalk. The office door was reached,
and with an invincible faith in himself, John opened it and walked in.
There was the Medical Director of the Post at his desk, surrounded by
his assistants, while on seats placed around the room, were soldiers who
had come there for treatment. Up to the desk steps John.
"Doctor I want to obtain a discharge for—"
Looking up from his desk in surprise, the Doctor fixed his eyes on our
friend.
"Who are you?" was the enquiry. "Take the position of a soldier sir,"
which John did, wishing he was some place else, for the stern, military
manner of the doctor had somewhat unnerved him, "about face, forward
march," and out of the office marched John. The doctor never gave the
command to "halt," and amid the laughter of those who witnessed the
scene, John took his departure. Down stairs he went to where Ide was
waiting for him.
"Did you get it?" was the first question.
"No" came the reply, "the doctor ain't in, he has gone out of town." So
back they came to camp, but John got no more whisky on the return trip,
and the next day we left Louisville. The story leaked out some way, as
all such stories do, and furnished many a laugh for us. Ide failed in
getting his discharge, but made an excellent soldier afterwards, and
came back safe and sound at the close of the war.