The Christmas holidays were delightful indeed for soldiers, no tasks to
perform for one whole week, except guard duty. The week was spent in
gambling and revelry.
All other holidays meant hard work all day for soldiers; usually they
were days of celebrating some event in the history of our country or
some man must be honored, and homage paid to his memory. The soldiers on
these occasions had to parade and march along the streets all day. Every
holiday, except that of Christmas, was a dreaded day to soldiers.
April first, 1898, my company was ordered out on the target range for
practice. We had had but little practice, only being there six days when
orders were received to prepare to leave our post at a moment's notice.
Those were memorable days. History was being added to, or rather made,
almost daily. Every one was talking of war with Spain, its results and
possibilities. Our camp was in a commotion, expecting war to be declared
at once. Everything was put in readiness for marching. In this condition
we remained until April seventeenth, when orders came at last for the
Twenty-third to proceed to New Orleans.
The city of Laredo gave our regiment a grand banquet before we left
there. Every man, woman and child, apparently, who could get out to see
us off, turned out.
The Twenty-third Regiment had been stationed at Laredo for eight years,
and during this time great attachment had been formed between the
soldiers and citizens. From Laredo to San Antonio was a long run,
attended by nothing of interest. At San Antonio the citizens
demonstrated their patriotism and hospitality by having a grand banquet
awaiting our arrival. Every man seemed to have a good time while there.
Before our train left, the citizens put several kegs of beer in every
car. This was appreciated very much, as beer seems to be a soldier's
favorite beverage, and one that he will have if he has money and is
where it can be bought. A soldier rarely refuses beer when offered to
him.
From San Antonio a run of forty hours carried us into New Orleans on
April nineteenth.
For a month we were there on guard duty. The majority of the regiment
seemed to enjoy their stay in New Orleans, but for me it was anything
but enjoyment.
The citizens were very kind to all soldiers, and seemed to regard them
very highly; when one went into the city he was generally given all the
beer he wished to drink, and made to feel welcome.
Soldiers care very little for anything, and do not seem to care very
much for themselves or for each other. They know that the responsibility
rests upon the officers, and that food and clothing will be furnished as
long as they are in the army. When a soldier draws his pay, usually the
first thing he looks for is some place to gamble and get rid of his
money in a few minutes, then he can be content. He is restless as long
as he has a dollar, and must gamble or take some friends to a saloon and
drink it up, then go away drunk.
If one man has any money and expects to keep it he must not let others
know of it, for they will expect him to spend it for all. Generally when
one man has any money it is free to all, and it is enjoyed as long as it
lasts. Soldiers are very generous and good-natured men; if not that way
at first they become so before a service of three years expires.
Army life is dangerous to the morals of many young men. They will take
up some bad habits if they have not power and determination to control
themselves. It is very easy for a man, especially a young man, to take
up some bad habits and lead a different life altogether in a short time
after he becomes a soldier. A man soon learns to drink and to gamble,
although he may have known nothing of these vices before his enlistment.
I thought that a soldier's life would suit me, but after a service of
three years I can truthfully state that it was not what I desired. Life
in camps at one place a little while, then at another place, winter and
summer, rain, sleet and snow, with twenty men in one wall tent, is very
disagreeable, unhealthy and unpleasant. I spent one month in camp in New
Orleans during the hot weather, and all the pleasure I had there was
fighting mosquitoes. We had a fierce battle with them every night.
My regiment had all the service at New Orleans they wanted in the line
of guard and special duty. Four hours of hard drilling five mornings in
each week, special duty in the afternoon, then half of every night
fighting mosquitoes. May was very hot. I believe that the battalion and
skirmish drills, without stopping to rest or to get water, were very
injurious to the soldiers.
I know that they injured my feelings very much.
I was a private in Company "A," Captain Goodale in command. I thought a
great deal of my captain; he was a good officer, and was soon promoted
to major of the 23d Regiment, and commanded it for several months. He
was then promoted to a lieutenant-colonel and assigned to duty with the
Third Infantry, then in the Philippines. After he set out to join his
new regiment I never saw him again. He was the first captain I served
under.
Soldiers who served under good officers were fortunate, but if they had
bad ones they were soon in trouble and had a hard service. A son of
Lieutenant-Colonel Goodale, who was a lieutenant, was placed in command
of Company "A." He, like his father, was a good officer, and soon won
the confidence and esteem of his company.
After the declaration of war between the United States and Spain, the
23d Regiment was recruited to its full quota of one hundred men for each
of twelve companies. Four new companies had to be formed, which were
called, at first, skeleton companies, because they only had a few men
transferred to them from the old ones.
Non-commissioned officers were transferred to the new companies and
placed in charge of the recruits, to drill and prepare them for duty.
Drilling recruits is hard work, and all the officers avoided it as much
as possible. From the 20th of April to the 24th of May we had nothing
but drill.
When Admiral Dewey destroyed the Spanish fleet in Manila Bay, orders
were sent to the 23d Regiment to proceed at once to San Francisco. It
will be remembered that we had gone to New Orleans under orders
directing our regiment to Cuba, but everything had changed so suddenly
that we were ordered to San Francisco to be in readiness to go to the
Philippines.
The orders from the War Department were received by Colonel French on
the night of the 23d of May.
The following day everything was put in readiness for leaving for San
Francisco, but to hasten preparations all our tents were struck at 4
o'clock in the evening. Soon afterwards it commenced raining for the
first time during our stay at New Orleans. Our tents were down and we
had no place to shelter and pass the night. We were ready to leave next
morning. I never saw so many wet soldiers before. I was on guard and saw
two hundred men or more go into stables that were near our camp. We were
camping in the race track of the city fair grounds, which were
surrounded by a great many stables. This was rough fare, and I could not
say whether the men slept or killed mosquitoes. One thing I know beyond
question: I saw the toughest, sleepiest looking lot of men next morning
that I had yet seen in my military service. They all seemed to have
colds. To add to our discomfort all the rations had been boxed and
marked for shipping, and we were without food for breakfast. Those who
had any money were allowed to go out and buy something to eat. It is
plain that if a man had no money he went without breakfast.
The men were all formed in line with gun, belt and knapsack, and were
kept standing ready to march at the command, until one o'clock in the
evening before taking up the march of three miles to the railroad
station. We marched through the city and to the station without a halt.
It seemed to me the hottest day I ever knew. It had been nearly
twenty-four hours since I had eaten, and I think my condition was no
worse than that of the whole regiment, with but very few exceptions.
We were in the city of New Orleans, and rations were plentiful, but it
seemed they were scarce for us. This, however, was only the beginning of
what we were to get accustomed to in a few months.
At two o'clock on the 25th day of May, our regiment boarded the cars of
the Southern Pacific Railroad and set out on its journey for San
Francisco. The regiment was divided into three sections for the journey,
which was made in six days.
The rations issued to us on this journey consisted of hard tack, canned
tomatoes, canned salmon, and last, but not least, nor more desirable,
canned horse meat. To use a soldier's expression, such "grub" is almost
enough to make a man sick to look at, but this made no difference, we
had to eat it.
I have seen a few people who seemed to think soldiers were not human
beings like other people. They thought they could endure anything and
would eat any kind of stuff for rations.
While eating supper one evening in our camp at New Orleans, the men
were seated in their usual manner on the open ground grouped around
their mess kits containing their rations; a young lady with her escort
was passing through the camp and observing the men eating supper,
remarked to her companion that the soldiers looked like men.
She had possibly never seen a soldier before.
At another time a man with two small boys were looking over our camp and
talking about the soldiers, when one of the little boys noticing the
soldiers eating, and seeming to be interested in their manner of eating,
said: "Papa, will soldiers eat hay?" His youthful curiosity appeared to
be fully satisfied by the father answering: "Yes, if whiskey is put on
it."
Crowds of people were out at every city and town we passed through
awaiting our arrival. Some had bouquets of beautiful flowers for the
soldiers containing notes of kind words and wishes, and signed by the
giver. Some gave us small baskets of nicely prepared rations. These were
what suited us most, and were very highly appreciated by every one who
was fortunate enough to get one.
Our train passed through many places without stopping. We saw crowds of
people at those places with bouquets and various gifts of kindness and
appreciation which they had no opportunity to give us. Whenever our
train stopped it would only be for a few minutes, and there was only
time enough to receive the little tokens of kindness and good will,
exchange a very few words, and we would again be off.