RAW RECRUITS.
She asked for men, and up he spoke, my handsome and hearty Sam,
“_I’ll_ die for the dear old Union, if she’ll take me as I am”;
And if a better man than he there’s mother that can show,
From Maine to Minnesota, then let the people know.
LUCY LARCOM.
[Illustration]
Many facts bearing upon the subject of this sketch have been already
presented in the opening chapter, but much more remains to be told, and
the reader will pardon me, I trust, for now injecting a little bit of
personal history to illustrate what thousands of young men were doing at
that time, and had been doing for months, as it leads up directly to the
theme about to be considered.
After I had obtained the reluctant consent of my father to enlist,—my
mother never gave hers,—the next step necessary was to make selection of
the organization with which to identify my fortunes. I well remember the
to me eventful August evening when that decision to enlist was arrived
at. The Union army, then under McClellan, had been driven from before
Richmond in the disastrous Peninsular campaign, and now the Rebel army,
under General Lee, was marching on Washington. President Lincoln had
issued a call for three hundred thousand three-years’ volunteers. One
evening, shortly after this call was made, I met three of my former
school-mates and neighbors in the chief village of the town I then
called home, and, after a brief discussion of the outlook, one of the
quartette challenged, or “stumped,” the others to enlist. The challenge
was promptly accepted all around, and hands were shaken to bind the
agreement. I will add in passing, that three of the four stood by that
agreement; the fourth was induced by increased wages to remain with his
employer, although he entered the service later in the war, and bears a
shell scar on his face to attest his honorable service.
After the decision had been reached, not to be revoked on my part as I
fully determined, I returned to my home, and either that night or the
next morning informed my father of the resolution I had taken. Instead
of interposing an emphatic objection, as he had done the previous year,
he said, in substance, “Well, you know I do not want you to go, but it
is very evident that a great many more must go, and if you have fully
determined upon it I shall not object.”
Having already determined upon the arm of the service which I should
enter, accompanied by three other acquaintances of the same opinion, two
of them the school-fellows mentioned, I started for Cambridge, with a
view of seeing Captain Porter, who was then at home recruiting for the
First Massachusetts Battery, which he commanded, and enlisting with him,
as there were at least two men in his company who were fellow-townsmen.
But we were much disappointed when the Captain informed us that his
company was now recruited to the number required. However, we directed
our steps back to Boston without delay, and there, in the second story of
the Old State House, enlisted in a new organization then rapidly filling.
Here is a copy of a certificate, still in my possession, which I was to
present on enlisting. It tells its own story.
VOLUNTEER ENLISTMENT.
STATE OF __________ [Illustration] TOWN OF __________
I, __________ born in __________ in the State of __________
aged __ years, and by occupation a __________ DO HEREBY
ACKNOWLEDGE to have volunteered this __ day of __________
18__, to serve as a =Soldier= in the _Army of the United
States of America_, for the period of _THREE YEARS_, unless
sooner discharged by proper authority: Do also agree to
accept such bounty, pay, rations, and clothing, as are, or
may be, established by law for volunteers. And I, __________
do solemnly swear, that I will bear true faith and allegiance
to the =United States of America=, and that I will serve them
honestly and faithfully against all their enemies or opposers
whomsoever; and that I will observe and obey the orders of the
President of the United States, and the orders of the officers
appointed over me, according to the Rules and Articles of War.
Sworn and subscribed to, at __________ this __ day of
__________ 18__,
BEFORE __________
_I CERTIFY, ON HONOR_, That I have carefully examined the above
named Volunteer, agreeably to the General Regulations of the
Army, and that in my opinion he is free from all bodily defects
and mental infirmity, which would, in any way, disqualify him
from performing the duties of a soldier.
EXAMINING SURGEON.
_I CERTIFY, ON HONOR_, That I have minutely inspected the
Volunteer, __________ previously to his enlistment, and that
he was entirely sober when enlisted; that, to the best of
my judgment and belief, he is of lawful age; and that, in
accepting him as duly qualified to perform the duties of an
able-bodied soldier, I have strictly observed the Regulations
which govern the recruiting service. This soldier has
__________ _eyes_, __________ _hair_, __________ _complexion_,
_is_ __ _feet_ __ _inches high_.
_Regiment of __________ Volunteers._
RECRUITING OFFICER.
DECLARATION OF RECRUIT.
I, __________ desiring to VOLUNTEER as a Soldier in the =Army
of the United States=, for the term of THREE YEARS, =Do
Declare=, That I am __ years and __ months of age; That I have
never been discharged from the United States service on account
of disability or by sentence of a court-martial, or by order
before the expiration of a term of enlistment; and I know of no
impediment to my serving honestly and faithfully as a soldier
for three years.
GIVEN at __________
The __ day of __________
Witness: __________
No. __
__________
_Volunteered at_ __________, __________ 18__,
_By_ __________ _Regiment of_ __________
__ _enlistment_; _last served in Company_ (__________) __
_Reg’t of_ __________.
_Discharged_ __________ 18__.
CONSENT IN CASE OF MINOR.
I, __________ do certify, That I am the father of __________,
that the said __________ is __ years of age; and I do hereby
freely give my CONSENT to his volunteering as a SOLDIER IN THE
ARMY OF THE UNITED STATES for the period of THREE YEARS.
GIVEN at __________ the __ day of __________ 186_.
Witness: __________
How often in later years did the disappointment I experienced at not
obtaining membership in the company I at first decided upon recur to me,
and how grateful I always felt for the fate which thus controlled my
enlistment. For the lot of a recruit in an old company was, at the best,
not an enviable one, and sometimes was made very disagreeable for him. He
stood in much the same relation to the veterans of his company that the
Freshman in college does to the Sophomores, or did when hazing was the
rule and not the exception. It is to be remembered that he was utterly
devoid of experience in everything which goes to make up the soldier, the
details of camping, cooking, drilling, marching, fighting, etc., which
put him at a disadvantage on all occasions. For this reason he easily
became the butt of a large number of his company—not all, for there were
some men who were ever ready to extend sympathy and furnish information
to him, when they saw it was needed, and did what they could to raise
him to the same general plane occupied by the old members. But many of
the veterans seemed to forget how they themselves obtained their army
education little by little, and so ofttimes bore down on recruits with
great severity.
In the later years of the war, when large bounties were being paid by
town, city, and State governments, to encourage enlistments, these
recruits were often addressed as “bounty-jumpers” by the evil disposed
among the old members. But that term was a misnomer, unless these men
proved later that they were deserving of it, for a bounty-jumper was a
man—I hate to call him one—who enlisted _only_ to get the bounty, and
deserted at the earliest opportunity.
Recruits, it should be said, as a class, stood the abuse which was heaped
upon them with much greater serenity of temper than they should have
done, and, indeed, so anxious were they to win favor with the veterans,
and to earn the right to be called and pass for old soldiers, that they
generally bore indignities without turning upon their assailants. The
term “recruit” in the mouth of a veteran was a very reproachful one,
but after one good brush with the enemy it was dropped, if the new men
behaved well under fire. In fact, those who abused the recruits most were
themselves, as a rule, the most unreliable in action and the greatest
shirks when on camp duty.
[Illustration: A WOOD DETAIL.]
When a detail made up of recruits and veterans was sent with the
wagons for wood, the recruits would be patted on the back by their
wily associates, and cajoled into doing most of the chopping, and then
challenged to lift the heaviest end of the logs into the wagons, which
they seldom refused to do. In the artillery, it usually fell to their
lot to care for the spare and used-up horses, not from any intention of
imposing upon them, but because cannoneers and drivers had their regular
tasks to perform, and all recruits entering the artillery began as spare
men, and worked up from the position of private to that of the highest
private—a cannoneer.
They always came to camp “flush” with money, and received every
encouragement from the bummers of the company to spend it freely; if they
did not do this, they were in a degree ostracised, and their lot made
much harder. When their boxes of goodies arrived from home, the lion’s
share went to the old hands. If the recruit did not give it to them, the
meanest of them would steal it when he was away on detail.
Then, all sorts of games were played on recruits by men who liked nothing
so well as a practical joke. I recall the case of a young man in my own
company who had just arrived, and, having been to the quartermaster for
his outfit of clothing and equipments, was asked by one of the practical
jokers why he did not get his umbrella.
“Do they furnish an umbrella?” he asked.
“Why, certainly,” said his persecutor, unblushingly. “It’s just like that
fraud of a quartermaster to jew a recruit out of a part of his outfit, to
sell for his own benefit. Go back and _demand_ your umbrella of him, and
a good one too!”
And the poor beguiled recruit returned to the quartermaster in high
dudgeon at the imagined attempt to swindle him, only to find, after a
little breeze, that he had been victimized by one of the practical jokers
of the camp.
There were at least two kinds of recruits to be found in every squad
that arrived in camp. One of these classes was made up of modest,
straightforward men, who accepted their new situation with its
deprivations gracefully, and brought no sugar-plums to camp with which to
ease their entrance into stern life on government fare and the hardships
of government service. They wore the government clothing as it was
furnished them, from the unshapely, uncomely forage cap to the shoddy,
inelastic sock. It mattered naught to them that the limited stock of the
quartermaster furnished nothing that fitted them. They accepted what he
tendered cheerfully, believing it to be all right, and seemed as happy
and as much at ease in a wilderness of overcoat and breeches as others
did who had been artistically renovated by the company tailor. But they
were none the less ludicrous and unsoldierly sights to look upon in such
rigs, and after a while would see themselves as others saw them, and
“spruce up” somewhat.
[Illustration: RECRUITS IN UNIFORM.]
These men drew their army rations to the full, not slighting the “salt
horse”, which I have intimated was rarely taken by old soldiers. They
found no fault when detailed for fatigue duty, were always ready to
learn, and in every way seemed anxious only to do the proper thing to
be done, hoping by such a course to win a speedy and easy ascent to the
plane of importance occupied by the veterans; and this course undoubtedly
did much to give them caste in the eyes of the latter.
Unlike these men in many particulars was the other class of recruits.
This latter class was not modest or retiring in demeanor. Its members
came to camp in a uniform calculated to provoke impertinent remarks
from the old vets. Their caps were from the store of a professional
hatter, and the numbers and emblem on the crown were of silver and gilt
instead of homely brass. Their clothing was generally custom-made.
The pantaloons in particular were not only made to fit well, but were
of the finest material obtainable, much unlike the government shoddy
which covered the old veteran, and through whose meshes peas of ordinary
calibre would almost rattle.
Then, their boots! such masterpieces of elegance and extravagance! Of
the cavalry pattern, reaching above the knee, almost doing away with the
necessity for pantaloons, sometimes of plain grained leather, sometimes
of enamelled, elaborately stitched and stamped, but always seeming to
mark their occupant as a man of note and distinction among his comrades.
They seemed a sort of fortification about their owner, protecting him
from too close contact with his vulgar surroundings. Alas! it never
required more than one day’s hard march in these dashing appendages to
humble their possessor so much that he would evacuate in as good order as
possible when camp was reached, if not compelled to before.
Their underwear was such as the common herd did not use in service. Their
shirts were “boiled”, that is, white ones, or, if woollen, were of some
“loud” checkered pattern, only less conspicuous than the flag which they
had sworn to defend. In brief, their general make-up would have stamped
them as military “dudes,” had such a class of creatures been then extant.
Of course, it was their privilege to wear whatever did not conflict with
Army Regulations, but I am giving the impressions they made on the minds
of the old soldiers.
As for government rations, they scoffed at them so long as there was a
dollar of bounty left, and a sutler within reach of camp to spend it
with. But when the treasury was exhausted they were disconsolate indeed,
and wished that the wicked war was over, with all their hearts. On
fatigue duty they were useless at-first, and the old soldiers made their
lot an unhappy one; but by dint of bulldozing and an abundance of hard
service, most of them got their fine sentimental notions pretty well
knocked out before they had been many weeks in camp. The sergeants into
whose hands they were put for instruction did not spare them, keeping
them hard at work until the recall from drill.
[Illustration: A SPARE MAN AND SPARE HORSES.]
It was fun in the artillery to see one of these dainty men, on his first
arrival, put in charge of a pair of spare horses,—spare enough, too,
usually. It was expected of him that he would groom, feed, and water
them. As it often happened that such a man had had no experience in the
care of horses, he would naturally approach the subject with a good deal
of awe. When the _Watering Call_ blew, therefore, and the bridles and
horses were pointed out to him by the sergeant, the fun began. Taking
the bridle, he would look first at it, then at the horse, as if in doubt
which end of him to put it on. In going to water, the drivers always
bridled the horse which they rode, and led the other by the halter. But
our unfledged soldier seemed innocent of all proper information. For the
first day or two he would _lead_ his charges; then, as his courage grew
with acquaintance, he would finally mount the near one, and, with his
legs crooked up like a V, cling for dear life until he got his lesson
learned in this direction. But all the time that he was getting initiated
he was a ridiculous object to observers.
The drilling of raw recruits of both the classes mentioned was no small
part of the trials that fell to the lot of billeted officers, for they
got hold of some of the crookedest sticks to make straight military men
of that the country—or, rather, _countries_—produced. Not the least
among the obstacles in the way of making good soldiers of them was
the fact that the recruits of 1864-5, in particular, included many who
could neither speak nor understand a word of English. In referring to
the disastrous battle of Reams Station, not long since, the late General
Hancock told me that the Twentieth Massachusetts Regiment had received
an accession of about two hundred German recruits only two or three days
before the battle, not one of whom could understand the orders of their
commanding officers. It can be easily imagined how much time and patience
would be required to mould such subjects as those into intelligent,
reliable soldiery.
[Illustration: DRILLING THE AWKWARD SQUAD.]
But outside of this class there were scores of men that spoke English
who would “hay-foot” every time when they should “straw-foot.” They were
incorrigibles in almost every military respect. Whenever they were out
with a squad—usually the “awkward squad”—for drill, they made business
lively enough for the sergeant in charge. When they stood in the rear
rank their loftiest ambition seemed to be to walk up the backs of their
file-leaders, and then they would insist that it was the file-leaders
who were out of step. Members of the much abused front rank often had
occasion to wish that the regulation thirteen inches from breast to back
might be extended to as many feet; but when the march was backward in
line, these front rank men would get square with their persecutors in the
rear.
To see such men attempt to change step while marching was no mean show.
I can think of nothing more apt to compare it with than the game of Hop
Scotch, in which the player hops first on one foot, then on both; or to
the blue jay, which, in uttering one of its notes, jumps up and down on
the limb; and if such a squad under full headway were surprised with a
sudden command to halt, they went all to pieces. It was no easy task to
align them, for each man had a line of his own, and they would crane
their heads out to see the buttons on the breast of the second man to
such an extent that the sergeant might have exclaimed, with the Irish
sergeant under like circumstances, “O be-gorra, what a bint row! Come out
here, lads, and take a look at yoursels!”
The awkward squad excelled equally in the infantry manual-of-arms.
Indeed, they displayed more real individuality here, I think, than in the
marchings, probably because it was the more noticeable. At a “shoulder”
their muskets pointed at all angles, from forty-five degrees to a
vertical. In the attempt to change to a “carry,” a part of them would
drop their muskets. At an “order,” no two of the butts reached the ground
together, and if a man could not always drop his musket on his _own_
toe he was a pretty correct shot with it on the toe of his neighbor.
But, with all their awkwardness and slowness at becoming acquainted with
a soldier’s duties, the recruits of the earlier years in time of need
behaved manfully. They made a poor exhibition on dress parade, but could
generally be counted on when more serious work was in hand. Sometimes,
when they made an unusually poor display on drill or parade, they were
punished—unjustly it may have been, for what they could not help—by
being subjected to the knapsack drill, of which I have already spoken.
It was a prudential circumstance that the war came to an end when it
did, for the quality of the material that was sent to the army in 1864
and 1865 was for the most part of no credit or value to any arm of the
service. The period of enlistments from promptings of patriotism had gone
by, and the man who entered the army solely from mercenary motives was
of little or no assistance to that army when it was in need of valiant
men, so that the chief burden and responsibility of the closing wrestle
for the mastery necessarily fell largely on the shoulders of the men who
bared their breasts for the first time in 1861, ’62, and ’63.
I have thus far spoken of a recruit in the usual sense of a man enlisted
to fill a vacancy in an organization already in the field. But this seems
the proper connection in which to say something of the experiences of men
who enlisted with original regiments, and went out with the same in ’61
and ’62. In many respects, their education was obtained under as great
adversity as fell to the lot of recruits. In _some_ respects, I think
their lot was harder. They knew absolutely nothing of war. They were
stirred by patriotic impulse to enlist and crush out treason, and hurl
back at once in the teeth of the enemy the charge of cowardice and accept
their challenge to the arbitrament of war. These patriots planned just
two moves for the execution of this desire: first, to enlist—to join some
company or regiment; second, to have that regiment transferred at once
to the immediate front of the Rebels, where they could fight it out and
settle the troubles without delay. Their intense fervor _to do something
right away_ to humble the haughty enemy, made them utterly unmindful
that they must first go to school and learn the art of war from its very
beginnings, and right at that point their sorrows began.
I think the greatest cross they bore consisted in being compelled to
settle down in home camp, as some regiments did for months, waiting
to be sent off. Here they were in sight of home in many cases, yet
outside of its comforts to a large extent; soldiers, yet out of danger;
bidding their friends a tender adieu to-day, because they are to leave
them—perhaps forever—to-morrow. But the morrow comes, and finds them
still in camp. Yes, there were soldiers who bade their friends a long
good-by in the morning, and started for camp expecting that very noon
or afternoon to leave for the tented field, but who at night returned
again to spend a few hours more at the homestead, as the departure of the
regiment had been unexpectedly deferred.
The soldiers underwent a great deal of wear and tear from false alarms
of this kind, owing to various reasons. Sometimes the regiment failed
to depart because it was not full; sometimes it was awaiting its field
officers; sometimes complete equipments were not to be had; sometimes
it was delayed to join an expedition not yet ready; and thus, in one
way or other, the men and their friends were kept long on the tiptoe of
expectation. Whenever a rumor became prevalent that the regiment was
surely going to leave on a certain day near at hand, straightway there
was an exodus from camp for home, some obtaining a furlough, but more
going without one, to take another touching leave all around, for the
dozenth time perhaps. Many of those who lived too far away to be sure
of returning in time, remained in camp, and telegraphed friends to meet
them at some large centre, as they passed through on the specified day,
which of course the friends faithfully tried to do, and succeeded if the
regiment set forth as rumored.
I said that many soldiers went home _without_ furloughs. There was a camp
guard hemming in every rendezvous for troops, with which I was familiar;
but no sentinel could see a man cross his beat _if he did not look at
him_, and this few of them did. Indeed, many of the sentinels themselves,
as soon as they were posted and the relieving squad were out of sight,
stuck their inverted muskets into the ground and decamped, either for
their two hours or for the day, and took their chances of being brought
to answer for it. The fact is, the men of ’61 and ’62 _wanted to go to
war_, and, whether they left the camp with or without leave, they were
sure to return to it. This fact was quite generally understood by their
superiors.
This home camp life seems interesting to look back upon. Hundreds of
men did not spend one day in six in camp. They came often enough to
have it known that they had not deserted, and then flitted again, but
other hundreds conscientiously remained. The company streets on every
pleasant day were radiant with the costumes of “fair women, and brave
men”—_to be_. On such a day a young man sauntering along the parade, or
winding in and out of the various company streets, the willing prisoner
of one or more interesting young women—his sisters, perhaps, or somebody
else’s—walked, the envy of the men who had no such friends to enliven
their camp life, or whose friends were too far away to visit them. If
these latter men secured an introduction to such a party, it tempered
their loneliness somewhat. And if such a party entered a tent, and joined
in the social round, it made a merry gathering while they tarried. But
there were other promenaders whose passing aroused no emotions of envy.
The husband and father attended by the loving wife and mother, whose brow
had already begun to wear that sober aspect arising from a forecasting
of the future, seeing, possibly, in the contingencies of war, herself a
widow, her children fatherless—dependent on her own unaided hands for all
of this world’s comforts, which must be provided for the helplessness of
childhood and youth. The husband, too, leading his boy or girl by the
hand as he walks, is not unmindful of the risks he has assumed or the
comforts he must sacrifice. But his hand is on the plough, and he will
not turn back.
Another interesting party often to be seen in the company street
comprised a father, mother, and son, perhaps an only boy, who had
volunteered for the war. Their reluctance at the step which he had taken
was manifested by turns in their looks, words, and acts. But while he
remained in the State, they must be with him as much as possible. See
that carpet-bag which the mother opens, as they take a seat on the straw
in the son’s tent! Notice the solicitude which she betrays as she takes
out one comfort or convenience after another—the socks for cold weather,
the woollens to ward off fever and ague, the medicine to antidote foul
water, the little roll of bandages which—may he never have occasion for;
the dozen other comforts that he ought to be provided with, including
some goodies which he had better take along if the regiment should chance
to go in a day or two. And so she loads him up—God bless her!—utterly
unmindful that the government has already provided him with more than he
can carry very far with his unaided strength.
Then, the camps were full of pedlers of “Yankee notions,” which soldiers
were supposed to stand in need of. I shall refer to some of these in
another connection.
The lesson of submission to higher military authority was a hard one for
free, honest American citizens to learn, and, while learning it, they
chafed tremendously. It was difficult for them to realize the difference
between men _with_ shoulder-straps and _without_ them; in fact, they
_would not_ realize it for a long time. When the straps crowned the
shoulders of social inferiors, submission to such authority was at times
degrading indeed. I have already touched upon this subject. But the
most judicious code of military discipline, even if administered by an
accomplished officer of estimable character, would have met with vigorous
opposition, for a time, from these impetuous and hitherto untrammelled
American citizens. Fortunately for them, perhaps, but unfortunately for
the service, the line officers were men of their own selection, their
neighbors and friends, who had met them as equals on all occasions. But
now, if such an officer attempted to enforce the authority conferred
by his rank, in the interest of better drill or discipline, he was
at once charged by his late equals with “showing off his authority,”
“putting on airs,” “feeling above his fellows”; and letters written home
advertised him as a “miniature tyrant,” etc., which made his position a
very uncomfortable one to hold for a time. But this condition of affairs
wore away soon after troops left the State, when the necessity for rigid
discipline became apparent to every man. And when the private soldier
saw that his captain was held responsible by the colonel for uncleanly
quarters or arms, or unsoldierly and ill disciplined men, the colonel in
turn being held to accountability by _his_ next superior, the growls grew
less frequent or were aimed at the government rather than the captain,
and the growlers began to settle down and accept the inevitable, taking
lessons in something new every day.
[Illustration: DRAFTED.]
It will be readily seen, I think, that the men composing the earliest
regiments and batteries had also their trials to endure, and they were
many; for not only they but their superiors were learning by rough
experience the art of war. They were, in a sense, “achieving greatness,”
while the recruits had “greatness thrust upon them,” often at short
notice. Furthermore, recruits from the latter part of 1862 forward went
out with a knowledge of much which they must undergo in the line of
hardship and privation, which the first rallies had to learn by actual
experience. And while it may be said that it took more courage for men
to go with the stern facts of actual war confronting them than when its
realities were unknown to them, yet it is also true that many of these
later enlistments were made under the advantage of pecuniary and other
inducements, without which many would not have been made. For patriotism
unstimulated by hope of reward saw high-water mark in 1861, and rapidly
receded in succeeding years, so that whereas men enlisted in 1861 and
early in ’62 because they wanted to go, and without hope of reward,
later in ’62 towns and individuals began to offer bounties to stimulate
lagging enlistments, varying in amount from $10 to $300; and increased
in ’63 and ’64 until, by the addition of State bounties, a recruit,
enlisting for a year, received in the fall of ’64 from $700 to $1000 in
some instances. It was this large bounty which led old veterans to haze
recruits in many ways. Of course, there was no justification for their
doing it, only as the recruits in some instances provoked it.
There was a song composed during the war, entitled the “Raw Recruit,”
sung to the tune of “Abraham’s Daughter,” which I am wholly unable to
recall, but a snatch of the first verse, or its parody, ran about as
follows:—
I’m a raw recruit, with a bran’-new suit,
Nine hundred dollars bounty,
And I’ve come down from Darbytown
To fight for Oxford County.
The name of the town and county were varied to suit the circumstances.
In 1863 a draft was ordered to fill the ranks of the army, as volunteers
did not come forward rapidly enough to meet the exigencies of the
service. Men of means, if drafted, hired a substitute, as allowed by law,
to go in their stead, when patriotism failed to set them in motion. Many
of these substitutes did good service, while others became deserters
immediately after enlisting. Conscription was never more unpopular than
when enforced upon American citizens at this time.
Here is a suggestive extract from a rhyme of that period, entitled
THE SUBSTITUTE.
A friend stepped up to me one day;
These are the words that he did say:
“A thousand dollars to you I’ll owe,
If in my place to war you’ll go.”
“A thousand dollars? Done!” says I;
“’Twill help to keep my family.”
I soon was clothed in a soldier’s suit,
And off to war as a substitute.
To a conscript camp first I was sent
And to the barracks my steps I bent.
I saw many there who wore blue suits,
And learned they were all substitutes.
Then orders came for us to go,
Way down where blood like rivers flow.
When the soldiers saw me, they yelled, “Recruit!
Why did you come as a substitute?”
[Illustration]