PAINS AND PENALTIES.
Among all civilized nations the "rules of war" seem to have been
written with an iron hand. The laws by which the soldier in
the field is governed are of necessity inexorable, for strict
discipline is the chief excellence of an army, and a ready
obedience the chief virtue of the soldier. Nothing can be more
admirable in the character of the true soldier than his prompt and
unquestioning response to the trumpet-call of duty. The world can
never forget, nor ever sufficiently admire, a Leonidas with his
three hundred Spartans at Thermopylæ, the Roman soldier on guard
at the gates of the perishing Pompeii, or the gallant six hundred
charging into the "valley of death" at Balaklava. Disobedience to
orders is the great sin of the soldier, and one that is sure to
be punished, for at no other time does Justice wear so stern and
severe a look as when she sits enthroned amidst the camps of armed
men.
In different sections of the army, various expedients were resorted
to for the purpose of correcting minor offences. What particular
shape the punishment should assume depended very much upon the
inventive faculty of the Field and Staff, or of such officers of
the line as might have charge of the case.
Before taking the field, a few citizen sneak-thieves were
discovered prowling amongst the tents. These were promptly drummed
out of camp to the tune of the "Rogue's March," the whole regiment
shouting in derision as the miserable fellows took to their heels
when the procession reached the limits of the camp, where they were
told to begone and never show their faces in camp any more, on pain
of a more severe treatment.
[Illustration: DRUMMING SNEAK-THIEVES OUT OF CAMP.]
If, as very seldom happened, it was an enlisted man who was caught
stealing, he was often punished in the following way: A barrel,
having one end knocked out and a hole in the other large enough to
allow one's head to go through, was slipped over the culprit's
shoulders. On the outside of the barrel the word THIEF! was
printed in large letters. In this dress he presented the ludicrous
appearance of an animated meal-barrel; for you could see nothing
of him but his head and legs, his hands being very significantly
confined. Sometimes he was obliged to stand or sit (as best he
could) about the guard-house, or near by the colonel's quarters,
all day long. At other times he was compelled to march through the
company streets and make the tour of the camp under guard.
Once in the field, however, sneak-thieves soon disappeared. Nor was
there frequent occasion to punish the men for any other offences.
Nearly, if not quite all of the punishments inflicted in the field
were for disobedience in some form or other. Not that the men were
wilfully disobedient. Far from it. They knew very well that they
must obey, and that the value of their services was measured wholly
by the quality of their obedience. It very rarely happened, even
amid the greatest fatigue after a hard day's march, or in the face
of the most imminent danger, that any one refused his duty. But
after a long and severe march, a man is so completely exhausted
that he is likely to become irritable and to manifest a temper
quite foreign to his usual habit. He is then not himself, and may
in such circumstances do what at other times he would not think of
doing.
Thus it once happened in my own company that one of the boys took
it into his head to kick over the traces. We had had a long hot
day's march through Maryland on the way down from Gettysburg, and
were quite worn out. About midnight we halted in a clover field on
a hillside for rest and sleep. Corporal Harter, who was the only
officer, commissioned or non-commissioned, that we had left to us
after Gettysburg, called out:
"John D----, report to the adjutant for camp guard."
Now John, who was a German, by the way, did not like the prospect
of losing his sleep, and had to be summoned a second time before
replying:
"Corporal, ich thu's es net!" (Corporal, I won't do it.)
Tired though we all were, we could not help laughing at the
preposterous idea of a man daring to disobey the corporal. As
the boys jerked off their accoutrements and began to spread down
their gum-blankets on the fragrant clover wet with the dew, they
were greatly amused at this singular passage between John and the
corporal.
"Come on, John. Don't make a Dutch dunce of yourself. You know you
_must_ go."
"Ich hab' dir g'sawt, ich thu's es net" (I have told you I won't do
it), insisted John.
"Pitch in, John!" shouted some one from his bed in the clover.
"Give it to him in Dutch; that'll fetch him."
"Oh, hang it!" said the corporal. "Come on, man. What do you mean?
You know you've got to go."
"Ich hab' dir zwei mohl g'sawt, ich thu's es gar net" (I have told
you twice that I will certainly not do it).
"Ha! ha! It beats the Dutch!" said some one.
"Something rotten in Denmark!" exclaimed another.
"Put him in the guard-house!" suggested a third from under his
gum-blanket.
"Plague take the thing!" said the corporal, perplexed. "Pointer,"
continued he, "put on your accoutrements again, get your gun, and
take John under arrest to the adjutant."
"Come on, John," said Pointer, buckling on his belt, "and be mighty
quick about it too. I don't want to stand about here arguing all
night; I want to get to roost. Come along!"
The men leaned up on their elbows in their beds on the clover,
interested in knowing how John would take _that_.
"Well," said he, scratching his head and taking his gun in hand,
"Corporal, ich glaub' ich det besser geh" (Corporal, I guess I'd
better go).
"Yes," said Pointer with a drawl, "I guess you 'besser' had, or
the major'll make short work with you and your Dutch. What in the
name of General Jackson did you come to the army for, if you ain't
a-going to obey orders?"
If while we were lying in camp a man refused his duty, he was at
once haled to the guard-house, which is the military name for
lock-up. Once there, at the discretion of the officers, he was
either simply confined and put on bread and water, or maybe
ordered to carry a log of wood, or a knapsack filled with stones,
"two hours on and two off," day and night, until such time as he
was deemed to have done sufficient penance. In more extreme cases
a court-martial was held, and the penalty of forfeiture of all pay
due, with hard labor for thirty days, or the like, was inflicted.
"Tying up by the thumb" was sometimes adopted. Down in front of
Petersburg, out along the Weldon Railroad, I once saw thirteen
colored soldiers tied up by their thumbs at a time. Between two
pine-saplings a long pole had been thrown across and fastened at
either end about seven feet from the ground. To this pole thirteen
ropes had been attached at regular intervals, and to each rope a
darky was tied by the thumb in such a way that he could just touch
the ground with his heel and keep the rope taut. If any one will
try the experiment of holding up his arm in such a position for
only five minutes, he will appreciate the force of the punishment
of being tied up by the thumbs for a half day.
In some regiments they had a high wooden horse, which the offender
was made to mount; and there he was kept for hours in a seat as
conspicuous as it was uncomfortable.
One day, down in front of Petersburg, a number of us had been
making a friendly call on some acquaintances over in another
regiment. As we were returning home we came across what we took
to be a well, and wishing a drink we all stopped. The well in
question, as was usual there, was nothing but a barrel sunk in
the ground; for at some places the ground was so full of springs
that, in order to get water, all you had to do was to sink a box
or barrel, and the water would collect of its own accord. Stooping
down and looking into the well in question, Andy discovered a man
standing in the well and bailing out the water.
"What's he doing down there in that hole?" asked some one of our
company.
"He says he's in the gopher-hole," said Andy, with a grin.
"Gopher-hole! What's a gopher-hole!"
"Why," said the guard, who was standing near by, and whom we had
taken for the customary guard on the spring, "you see, comrades,
our colonel has his own way of punishin' the boys. One thing he
won't let 'em do--he won't let 'em get drunk. They may drink as
much as they want, but they must not get drunk. If they do, they
go into the gopher-hole. Jim, there, is in the gopher-hole now.
That hole has a spring in the bottom, and the water comes in pretty
fast; and if Jim wants to keep dry he's got to keep dippin' all the
time, or else stand in the water up to his neck--and Jim isn't so
mighty fond o' water neither."
Late in the fall of 1863, while we were lying in camp somewhere
among the pine woods along the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, we
were one day marched out to witness the execution of a deserter.
Instances of desertion to the enemy's lines were extremely rare
with us; but whenever they occurred, the unfortunate offenders, if
caught, were dealt with in the most summary manner, for the doom of
the deserter is death.
The poor fellow who was to suffer the highest penalty of military
law on the present occasion was, we were informed, a Maryland boy.
Some months previously he had deserted his regiment for some cause
or other, and had gone over to the enemy. Unfortunately for him it
happened that in one of the numerous skirmishes we were engaged in
about that time, he was taken prisoner, in company with a number of
Confederate soldiers. Unfortunately, also, for the poor fellow, it
chanced that he was captured by the very company from which he had
deserted. The disguise of a Confederate uniform, which might have
stood him in good stead had he fallen into any other hands, was
now of no avail. He was at once recognized by his former comrades
in arms, tried by court-martial, found guilty, and sentenced to be
shot.
So, one October morning, orders came to the effect that the whole
division was to turn out at one o'clock, to witness the execution
of the sentence. I need hardly say that this was most unwelcome
news. Nobody wished to see so sad a sight. Some of the men begged
to be excused from attendance, and others could not be found when
our drums beat the "assembly;" for none could well endure, as they
said, "to see a man shot down like a dog." It was one thing to
shoot a fellow mortal, or to see him shot, in battle; but this
was quite a different thing. A squad of men had been detailed to
shoot the poor fellow, Elias Foust, of our company, being among
the number. But Elias, to his credit be it recorded, begged off,
and had some one else appointed in his stead. One could not help
but pity the men who were assigned to this most unpleasant duty,
for if it be painful only to see a man shot, what must it not be
to shoot him with your own hand? However, in condescension to this
altogether natural and humane aversion to the shedding of blood,
and in order to render the task as endurable as possible, the
customary practice was observed:--On the morning of the execution
an officer, who had been appointed for the purpose, took a number
of rifles, some twelve or fourteen in number, and loaded all of
them carefully with powder and ball, _except one_, this one being
loaded with blank cartridge, that is, with powder only. He then
mixed the guns so thoroughly that he himself could scarcely tell
which guns were loaded with ball and which one was not. Another
officer then distributed the guns to the men, not one of whom
could be at all certain whether his particular gun contained a ball
or not, and all of whom could avail themselves of the full benefit
of the doubt in the case.
It was one of those peculiarly impressive autumn days when all that
one sees or hears conspires to fill the mind with an indefinable
feeling of sadness. There was the chirp of the cricket in the air,
and the far-away chorus of the myriads of insects complaining that
the year was done. There was all the impressiveness of a dull
sky, a dreamy haze over the field, a yellow and brown tinge on
the forest, accompanied by that peculiarly mournful wail of the
breeze as it sighed and moaned dolefully among the branches of the
pines,--all joining in chanting a requiem, it seemed to me, for the
poor Maryland boy whose sands were fast running out.
At the appointed hour the division marched out and took position in
a large field, or clearing, surrounded on all sides by pine-woods.
We were drawn up so as to occupy three sides of a great hollow
square, two ranks deep and facing inward, the fourth side of
the square (where we could see that a grave had been recently
dug) being left open for the execution. Scarcely were we well in
position, when there came to our ears, wafted by the sighing autumn
wind, the mournful notes of the "Dead March." Looking away in the
direction whence the music came, we could see a long procession
marching sadly and slowly to the measured stroke of the muffled
drum. First came the band, playing the dirge; next, the squad of
executioners; then a pine coffin, carried by four men; then the
prisoner himself, dressed in black trousers and white shirt, and
marching in the midst of four guards; then a number of men under
arrest for various offences, who had been brought out for the sake
of the moral effect it was hoped this spectacle might have upon
them. Last of all came a strong guard.
When the procession had come up to the place where the division
was formed, and had reached the open side of the hollow square,
it wheeled to the left and marched all along the inside of the
line from the right to the left, the band still playing the dirge.
The line was long and the step was slow, and it seemed that they
never would get to the other end. But at long last, after having
solemnly traversed the entire length of the three sides of the
hollow square, the procession came to the open side of it, opposite
to the point from which it had started. The escort wheeled off.
The prisoner was placed before his coffin, which was set down in
front of his grave. The squad of twelve or fourteen men who were to
shoot the unfortunate man took position some ten or twelve yards
from the grave, facing the prisoner, and a chaplain stepped out
from the group of division officers near by, and prayed with and
for the poor fellow a long, long time. Then the bugle sounded. The
prisoner, standing proudly erect before his grave, had his eyes
bandaged, and calmly folded his arms across his breast. The bugle
sounded again. The officer in charge of the squad stepped forward.
Then we heard the command, given as calmly as if on drill,--
"Ready!"
"Aim!"
Then, drowning out the third command, "Fire!" came a flash of
smoke and a loud report. The surgeons ran up to the spot. The
bands and drum-corps of the division struck up a quick-step as
the division faced to the right and marched past the grave, in
order that in the dead form of its occupant we might all see that
the doom of the deserter is death. It was a sad sight. As we
moved along, many a rough fellow, from whom you would hardly have
expected any sign of pity, pretending to be adjusting his cap so as
to screen his eyes from the glare of the westering sun, could be
seen furtively drawing his hand across his face and dashing away
the tears that could not be kept from trickling down the bronzed
and weather-beaten cheek. As we marched off the field, we could
not help being sensible of the harsh contrast between the lively
music to which our feet were keeping step, and the fearfully solemn
scene we had just witnessed. The transition from the "Dead March"
to the quick-step was quite too sudden. A deep solemnity pervaded
the ranks as we marched homeward across the open field and into
the sombre pine-woods beyond, thinking, as we went, of the poor
fellow's home somewhere among the pleasant hills of Maryland, and
of the sad and heavy hearts there would be there when it was known
that he had paid the extreme penalty of the law.
[Illustration]