SI HAS MANY TRIBULATIONS LEARNING THE MANUAL OP ARMS.
WHEN Si Klegg went into active service with Co. Q of the 200th Ind.
his ideas of drill and tactics were exceedingly vague. He knew that a
"drill" was something to make holes with, and as he understood that
he had been sent down South to make holes through people, he supposed
drilling had something to do with it. He handled his musket very much as
he would a hoe. A "platoon" might be something to eat, for all he knew.
He had a notion that a "wheel" was something that went around, and he
thought a "file" was a screeching thing that his father used once a year
to sharpen up the old buck saw.
The fact was that Si and his companions hardly had a fair shake in this
respect, and entered the field at a decided disadvantage. It had been
customary for a regiment to be constantly drilled for a month or two in
camp in its own State before being sent to the front; but the 200th was
rushed off to Kentucky the very day it was mustered in. This was while
the cold chills were running up and down the backs of the people in
the North on account of the threatened invasion by Bragg's army. The
regiment pushed after the fleeing rebels, but whenever Suell's army
halted to take breath, "Fall in for drill!" was shouted through its camp
three or four times a day. It was liable to be called into action at any
moment, and it was deemed indispensable to begin at once the process of
making soldiers out of those tender-footed Hoosiers, whose zeal and
patriotism as yet far exceeded their knowledge of military things. Most
of the officers of the 200th were as green as the men, though some of
them had seen service in other regiments; so, at first, officers and
non-commissioned officers who had been in the field a few months and
were considered veterans, and who knew, or thought they knew, all about
tactics that was worth knowing, were detailed from the old regiments to
put the boys through a course of sprouts in company and squad drill.
One morning three or four days after leaving Louisville, word was passed
around that the regiment would not move that day, and the boys were so
glad at the prospect of a day of rest that they wanted to get right
up and yell. Si was sitting on a log, with his shoes off, rubbing his
aching limbs and nursing his blisters, when the Orderly came along.
"Co. Q, be ready in 10 minutes to fall in for drill. Stir around, you
men, and get your traps on. Klegg, put on them gunboats, and be lively
about it."
"Orderly," said Si, looking as if he hadn't a friend on earth, "just
look at them blisters; I can't drill to-day!"
"You'll have to or go to the guard-house," was the reply. "You'd better
hustle yourself, too!"
Si couldn't think of anything to say that would do justice to his
feelings; and so, with wailing and gnashing of teeth, and a few muttered
words that he didn't learn in Sunday school, he got ready to take his
place in the company.
As a general combustion of powder by the armies of Buell and Bragg
was hourly expected, it was thought best for the 200th to learn first
something about shooting. If called suddenly into action it was believed
the boys could "git thar," though they had not yet mastered the science
of company and battalion evolutions. Co. Q was divided into squads of
eight for exercise in the manual of arms. The man who took Si's squad
was a grizzled Sergeant, who had been "lugging knapsack, box and gun"
for a year. He fully realized his important and responsible functions as
instructor of these innocent youths, having at the same time a supreme
contempt for their ignorance. "Attention, Squad!" and they all looked at
him in a way that meant business.
[Illustration: "RIGHT SHOULDER SHIFT--ARMS!" 067 ]
"Load in nine times--Load!"
Si couldn't quite understand what the "in" meant, but he had always been
handy with a shotgun, to the terror of the squirrels and coons up in
Posey County, and he thought he would show the Sergeant how spry he
was. So he rammed in a cartridge, put on a cap, held up his musket, and
blazed away, and then went to loading again as if his life depended upon
his activity. For an instant the Sergeant was speechless with amazement.
At length his tongue was loosened, and he roared out:
"What in the name of General Jackson are you doing, you measly idiot!
Who ordered you to load and fire your piece?"
"I--I th--thought you did!" said Si, trembling as if he had the Wabash
ague. "You said for us to load nine times. I thought nine loads would
fill 'er chuck full and bust 'er and I didn't see any way but to shute
'em oft as fast as I got 'em in."
"No, sir! I gave the command according to Hardee,
'Load--in--nine--times!' and ef yer hadn't bin in such a hurry you'd 'a'
found out what that means. Yer'll git along a good deal faster ef you'll
go slower. Yer ought ter be made ter carry a rail, and a big one, for
two hours."
Si protested that he was sorry, and didn't mean to, and wouldn't do
so again, and the drill went on. The master went through all the nine
"times" of "Handle--Cartridge!" "Draw--Rammer!" etc., each with its two
or three "motions." It seemed like nonsense to Si.
"Boss," said he, "I kin get 'er loaded in just half the time ef yer'll
let me do it my own way!"
"Silence!"' thundered the Sergeant. "If you speak another word I'll have
ye gagged 'n' tied up by the thumbs!"
Si had always been used to speaking right out when he had anything to
say, and had not yet got his "unruly member" under thorough subjection.
He saw that it wouldn't do to fool with the Drill Sergeant, however, and
he held his peace. But Si kept thinking that if he got into a fight
he would ram in the cartridge and fire them out as fast as he could,
without bothering his head about the "one time and three motions."
[Illustration: "FIX--BAYONETS!" 069 ]
"Order--Arms!" commanded the Sergeant, after he had explained how it
was to be done. Si brought his gun down along with the rest like a
pile-driver, and it landed squarely on the foot of the man next to him.
[Illustration: BROUGHT HIS GUN DOWN ON THE MAN'S FOOT 065 ]
"Ou-ou-ouch!" remarked the victim of Si's inexperience.
"Didn't do it a'purpose, pard," said Si compassionately; "'pon my word I
didn't. I'll be more keerful after this."
His suffering comrade, in very pointed language, urged upon Si the
propriety of exercising a little more care. He determined that he would
manage to get some other fellow to stand next to Si after that.
"Shoulder--Arms!" ordered the Sergeant, and the guns came straggling up
into position. Then, after a few words of instruction, "Right shoulder
shift--Arms!"
"Don't you know your right shoulder?" said the Sergeant, with a good
deal of vinegar in his tone, to Si, who had his gun on the "larboard"
side, as a sailor would say.
"Beg yer pardon," said Si; "I always was lefthanded. I'll learn if yer
only gimme a show!"
"Silence!" again roared the Sergeant. "One more word, sir, and I will
tie ye up, fer a fact!"
The Sergeant got his squad down to an "order arms" again, and then,
after showing them how, he gave the order, "Fix--Bayonets!"
There was the usual clicking and clattering, during which Si dexterously
managed to stick his bayonet into the eye of his comrade, whose toes
were still aching from the blow of the butt of Si's musket. Si assured
him he was sorry, and that it was all a mistake, but his comrade thought
the limit of patience had been passed. So he confidently informed Si
that as soon as drill was over he was going to "pound the stuffin'" out
of him, and there wouldn't be any mistake about it, either.
When the hour was up the Captain of the company came around to see
how the boys were getting along. The upshot of it was that poor Si
was immediately organized into an "awkward squad" all by himself, and
drilled an extra hour.
"We'll see, Mr. Klegg," said the Captain, "if you can't learn to handle
your arms without mashing the toes and stabbing the eyes out of the rest
of the company."