"And so your follies fight against yourself.
Fear, and be slain; no worse can come; to fight--
And fight and die, is death destroying death;
Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath."
--SHAKESPEARE.
On June 7,1862, I reported for duty to Captain Haskell. Dr. Frost had
offered to send me over, but I preferred to go alone, and, as my
strength seemed good, I made my way afoot, and with all my possessions
in my pockets.
The Captain was ready for me. My name was recorded on the roll of
Company H, Orderly-sergeant George Mackay writing Jones, B., in its
alphabetical position.
A soldier's outfit was given to me at once, a requisition having been
made before my coming. I joined the mess of the Bellots. Besides the
brothers Bellot, the mess had other men with whom I formed gradually
some of the ties of friendship; they were Sergeant Josey, Corporal
Veitch, Privates Bail, Bee, Bell, Benton, and Box, in this alphabetical
succession of names my own name being no real exception, although
Captain Haskell had insisted upon the name written in the diary.
And now my duties at once began. I must relearn a soldier's drill in the
manual and in everything. The company drilled four hours a day, and the
regiment had one hour's battalion drill, besides dress-parade; there was
roll-call in the company morning and night.
Nominally a raw recruit, I was handed over to Sergeant John Wilson, who
put me singly through the exercises without arms for about four hours
on my first day's duty, which was the third day of my enlistment, or
perhaps I should say re-enlistment. The sergeant seemed greatly pleased
with my progress, and told me that he should at once promote me to be
the right guide of his awkward squad.
On the next day, therefore, I found myself drilling with three other
recruits who had been members of the company for a week or more. That
night Orderly-sergeant Mackay, who seemed to have received me into his
good graces, told me that Wilson had said that that new man Jones beat
everything that he had seen before; that learning to drill was to Jones
"as easy as fallin' off a log." I remembered Dr. Frost's prediction.
The third day I drilled with the awkward squad again; but in the
afternoon my gun was put into my hands, and for an extra half-hour I was
exercised in the manual of arms. But my first attempts proved very
unfortunate. Sergeant Wilson scolded, stormed, and almost swore at me.
He placed my gun at the _carry_, and called repeated attention to the
exact description of the position, contained in the language of Hardee:
"The piece in the right hand, the barrel nearly vertical, and resting in
the hollow of the shoulder; the guard to the front, the arm hanging
nearly at its full length near the body; the thumb and forefinger
embracing the guard, the remaining fingers closed together, and grasping
the swell of the stock just under the cock, which rests on the little
finger." I simply could not execute the _shoulder_, or _carry_, with any
precision, although the positions of _support, right-shoulder-shift,
present,_ and all the rest, gave me no trouble after they were reached;
reaching them, from the _shoulder_ was the great trouble.
Wilson ended by ordering me off and reporting me to the Captain.
Captain Haskell sent for me. He said kindly, "Jones, Sergeant Wilson
gives a bad report of you."
"I do the best I can, Captain."
"The sergeant seems to think that you are obstinate on some peculiar
point that he did not make me fully understand. He gives you great
praise for learning the facings and the steps, but says you will not
learn the manual."
"I don't understand my awkwardness, Captain. There is something wrong
about it."
"You find the manual difficult?"
"Not only difficult, but absurd," said I; "it makes me nervous."
"And the facings and steps were not difficult?"
"Not at all; they seemed easy and natural."
"Take your gun and come with me," said the Captain; "I think I have a
clew to the situation."
Behind the Captain's simple quarters was an open space. He made me take
position. He also took position, with a rifle at his side.
"Now, look," said he; "see this position, which I assume to be the
_shoulder_ natural to you."
His gun was at his left side, the barrel to the front, the palm of his
left hand under the butt.
"Now," said he, "this is the _shoulder_ of the heavy infantry manual. I
think you were drilled once in a company which had this _shoulder_. It
may not have been in your recent regiment that you were so drilled, for
this _shoulder_ obtained in all the militia companies of Carolina before
the war. Many regiments still hold to it. Follow my motions
now--_Support_--ARMS!"
The Captain's right hand grasped the piece at the small of the stock;
his left arm was thrown across his breast, the cock resting on the
forearm; his right hand fell quickly to his side.