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.