FABLES OF FIELD AND STAFF

BY JAMES ALBERT FRYE

BOSTON THE COLONIAL COMPANY 1894

Copyright, 1893 BY JAMES ALBERT FRYE All rights reserved

ROCKWELL & CHURCHILL PRESS BOSTON

TO THE OFFICERS AND MEN OF THE VOLUNTEER SERVICE

v

PREFACE.

The seven fables flanked by the covers of this book have to do with as many strange and wonderful happenings in the history of an infantry regiment—an infantry regiment of volunteers—in time of peace. They are seasoned abundantly, from end to end, with that which is stranger than fiction, but they differ slightly from “muster-rolls for pay,” which, I am informed, one has to submit under oath.

If you are of the volunteer service, you may be trusted, I think, to catch the spirit of these stories; if you are of The Army, you may consider the tales as illustrative of the customs of a service to which your own is but distantly related; but if it isvi your great misfortune to be an out-and-out civilian—why, then you must take your chance with what follows, and lay no blame upon me should you find yourself on unfamiliar ground.

In another and an earlier book I related how we of The Third came to settle ourselves in our off-duty quarters up in The Battery; how Sam, the veteran gunner of a by-gone war, won his medal, our most profound respect, and a place among us second in importance only to that of the colonel commanding; how our horse, “Acme,” gained for us great renown and no little wealth; how Larry, our seventh major, rose to the rank of hero; and many other odd truths concerning the Old Regiment. So it may be that, by reason of having read these things, you are no stranger to us, to our traditions, and to our easy-going ways. But even if to-day you come for the first time into our midst, you are none the less welcome—and you willvii find awaiting you a chair, a pipe, and a pewter mug at our long oaken table, to say nothing of an open-hearted greeting from as good a set of fellows as ever lent their names to the adornment of a regimental roster.

J. A. F.

ix

INVENTORY.

“On hand, as per last return, seven: taken up since last return, as per inventory, seven; viz.—”

13

THE MARCH OF THE FORTY THIEVES.

The long, low room that we call The Battery seemed most depressingly quiet. Sam was there, to be sure, but his presence hardly counted, for he was sound-and-fast asleep in his own little box, partitioned off in the far corner.

I foraged ’round for pipe and plug-cut, lighted up, and wandered over to the bookcase. There was nothing in it—nothing that I felt up to the bother of reading. I went over to the long oaken table and picked up a copy of the Service Journal, but it proved to be a back number, so I tossed it down again upon the disorderly pile of periodicals, and then climbed upon the cushions of the wide dormer-window, just as the rattle of wheels upon the stone flagging in the court far14 below shattered the stillness of the July afternoon.

A few words in a familiar voice came indistinctly up to me; the wheels clattered again, but more faintly, as the unseen vehicle was driven out through the archway to the street beyond; and steadily up the long stairs, flight after flight, sounded a quick, firm tread. And then the door swung wide upon its hinges, and Bones, our surgeon—Dr. Sawin, outside the service—broke into the room, with his favorite greeting: “Hello, inside! Never mind the guard!”

“The countersign is correct. Advance friend,” said I, from number-one post on the cushions. “Likewise, the guard, being asleep, will not turn out. Come over here, and make less riot.”

“Just been to see Ali Baba,” explained Bones, dropping upon a chair near the window. “He’ll be mended now in a week or ten days. Thought I’d run up here to glance through the papers. Sent my gig away because it’s too hot to leave the horse standing.”

I slipped off my coat and tossed it to the other end of the window-seat, preparatory to elevating my feet for my greater comfort.15 Bones also reduced his apparel, and provided himself with smoking materials. Then, with his first few puffs, he said, reflectively, “It’s funny how that ‘Ali Baba’ title has been handed down from captain to captain in ‘L’ company. Why, it must be more than twenty years since the day of the first ‘Ali.’”

A side glance at the surgeon confirmed the impression I had received from the peculiar intonation of his voice: his hands were clasped behind his head, his long legs were draped over the arm of his chair, his eyes were half closed, and he was on the point of being talkative.

Now I, as the latest comer upon the staff, have to serve in the capacity of waste-basket, and all the older officers feel at liberty to use me at any time when they feel the need of freeing themselves of some mildewed old yarn. So I drew a long breath, gave a grunt by way of signifying that I would suffer uncomplainingly, and settled myself to stare vacantly out through the open casement, under the wide, striped awning, and across the broad expanse of roofs towards the green hills, far beyond the city’s limits.

16 “Yes, it must be all of twenty years,” said the surgeon, seeing that I made no effort to escape, “for it was before I’d been enticed into the service—and I’ve been dealing out ginger and pills to this regiment for more years than I care to remember.

“Things were different in those days: the establishment wasn’t on quite the footing that it’s on now. In fact, the true military spirit was at rather a low ebb, and discipline, to put it mildly, was far from rigid. So the service—even though there were good men in it then—was rather in disrepute.

“At that time one Merrowbank was captain of ‘L.’ He was a typical old-timer, a milishy-man from the word go, and a glittering example of all that a volunteer officer shouldn’t be. It was a pet theory of his that the commissioned officer should be able to find stowage for just twice as much Santa Cruz product as the enlisted man could manage to put away—and he lived up to his theory most consistently. Moreover, he had a childlike faith that Providence would keep a watchful eye upon his company property, and he never allowed himself any worry about trifles like shortages in equipment.17 Well, he’s been out for a long time now—and it’s nihil nisi bonum, you know—but he had a gay old company, they say.

“When the brigade went into camp that year—whatever year it was—Merrowbank took down three officers and forty men, which was a good showing, so far as strength went, for those days. But he found himself short on rifles and great-coats and any quantity of other stuff, and his implicit faith in Providence was much shaken by the discovery; so much shaken that he felt it incumbent upon him to rustle ’round a bit in his own behalf.

“So he got his non-com.’s into his tent the first night of camp, explained the nature of the emergency, and issued a G.O., to the effect that before the next morning every man in ‘L’ who was short of equipment must manage to make up the deficiency—how, he didn’t care a coppery cent, though he’d suggest that it mightn’t be a bad idea to be neighborly with the other regiments of the brigade, just to see how well off they might be in the matter of State property.

“Well, the non-com.’s faithfully promulgated both Merrowbank’s general order and the hint that went with it, and the captain18 went off on a visit to each of the twenty-four tents in Line Officers’ Row, and finally stowed himself away in bed with a comfortable sense of having done his best to supplement the watchful care of Providence.”

“And in the morning, I suppose, he woke up to find his property complete, and the company fully armed and equipped,” said I, feeling that it was time for me to give some assurance of having been listening.

“Yes, that was about the size of it, as the story goes,” assented Bones, sending a big puff of smoke on its way towards the open window. “But poor Merrowbank had rather a rude awakening on that particular morning, for he was roused by a volley of sharp raps upon his tent-pole, and a good bit before reveille, too.

“As was only natural, he swore fluently, though politely, at the people outside his canvas, and desired to know what the hallelujah they meant by stirring him up at that hour. But on recognizing the colonel’s voice—Hazeltine was colonel then—he tumbled himself out of bed in two-four time; and when he had poked his head through the tent-flaps and had discovered not only the19 colonel but also old General Starbuckle standing outside in the dim, gray light, he found his ideas coming very rapidly to him, and apologized most profusely for the warmth of his first greeting.

“‘That’s all right, Captain,’ said the colonel, with ominous calmness, glancing keenly at the blinking eyes and rumpled hair framed by the opening in the tent curtain. ‘It’s very annoying, of course, to be roused at such an unseemly hour, after a hard day—and night! But General Starbuckle wishes to see for himself how quickly you can turn out your company, in heavy-marching order, as if in response to a sudden call for special duty. I shall take time from the present moment.’ And he sprung open the lid of his watch, holding it up to his face to note the exact hour.

“Merrowbank desperately plunged into his uniform, stirred up his lieutenants, routed out his first sergeant, and then joined his superior officers; the sleepy men turned out, grumbling and growling, and commenting profanely upon the proceedings; and finally ‘L’ stood formed-up in its company street.

“‘Very fair work, Captain,’ observed Hazeltine,20 closing his watch with a snap, but omitting any mention of the time taken by the formation; ‘very fair indeed. Now, General, at your convenience’—

“‘What’s your strength, sir?’ asked old Starbuckle, glancing along the line of ill-tempered men.

“‘Three-forty, sir,’ said Merrowbank, suppressing a yawn, and wishing that the old man would be done with his precious nonsense.

“‘Arms and equipments complete and in proper condition?’ questioned the general, sinking his chin deeply into the upturned collar of his great-coat, and sharply eyeing his unsuspecting victim.

“‘They should be, sir,’ replied the captain, catching the point of his sword in his left hand, and bending the blade into a semicircle of shining steel.

“‘H’m! Yes, they should be,’ grunted old Starbuckle, with a tug at his white imperial, ‘but I think I’ll inspect. You, sir, will remain at your post. Will you accompany me, Colonel?’

“The two senior officers slowly passed down the opened ranks, making a most21 minute inspection of every man. The colonel had lugged out a note-book, and from time to time, at some muttered remark from the general, he would make a brief entry, grinning wickedly at each fresh line of pencilling—for he was no friend of Merrowbank’s, and he found great joy in the task in which he was engaged.

“At length—just as the drowsy drummers of the regiment were turning out to beat reveille—the inspection came to an end, and the general, coming to the front of the company, said, ‘Captain, you will direct your first lieutenant to report the result of reveille roll-call. I wish a word with you in your quarters.’

“Entering the captain’s tent, old Starbuckle planted himself solidly upon a camp-stool, frowned, and said, ‘You are aware, Colonel Hazeltine, how strongly I object to having companies of line organizations bear any designation other than that of regimental number and company letter: has this company any name of an unofficial nature?’

“‘It used to be called the Norfolk Fencibles, I believe,’ replied Hazeltine, wondering at what the brigade commander could be22 driving, ‘and that name is sometimes used even now—on social occasions.’

“‘Norfolk Fencibles, eh? Tasteful title, that—very!’ grunted the gray-bearded old soldier. ‘And you report forty men, Captain?’

“‘Yes, sir: officers, three—and forty men,’ said poor Merrowbank, feeling a caravan of cold shivers go travelling down his spine, for from the general’s tone he felt abundantly certain that something nasty was coming next.

“‘Well, from now on,’ fairly snorted old Starbuckle, ‘this company will be known as The Forty Thieves!—and with my sanction freely given. Kindly read what you have there, Colonel.’

“The colonel pawed over the leaves of his note-book. ‘One rifle, marked “M, 4th;”’ he began; two ditto, marked “C, 4th;” one ditto, marked “B, 7th;” one great-coat, with red facings’—

“‘An infantryman stupid enough to rob the gunners ought to be discharged for color-blindness, if for nothing else,’ interrupted the general, in the deepest disgust.

“‘One ditto, with yellow facings; two ditto, marked’—

23 “‘There, that’ll do!’ broke in Starbuckle. ‘There are two more pages full of iniquity; but I haven’t the patience to listen to ’em. Not a word, sir!’ as poor Merrowbank desperately began an incoherent explanation; ‘not a word! It’s a bad enough business as it stands—don’t try to make it worse. I’ll explain for your enlightenment that I took a quiet stroll around the camp last night, to observe for myself how the men were conducting themselves, and it so happened that I was just outside your tent when you were giving your non-commissioned officers instructions in petit larceny—and canvas walls are thin, very thin!

“‘To put it into plain English, I was eavesdropping—though unintentionally—and I must apologize, of course, for the way in which I caught you off your guard. But I wish to state right here, Captain, that I can’t approve of your methods, however much I may feel compelled to admire their results; and you therefore will be allowed to send in your papers immediately upon your return from this camp. I let you down easily, sir, for the sake of this regiment, which is a good one, and as a mark of my consideration for24 your colonel, who is trying to bring the service into efficiency and good repute.’ And with this the general rose stiffly, and marched out of the tent, without bothering to bid Merrowbank a good morning.

“And that was how The Forty Thieves came into their title. The story leaked out, as such stories will, and for the rest of that camp Merrowbank was known as Ali Baba. When his papers had gone in and he had gone out, the nickname was handed down to the next captain of ‘L’—and it will be many a long day, I fancy, before the line of Ali becomes extinct in the regiment.”

“But Ali Baba wasn’t captain of the thieves—at least, as I remember the original fable,” I objected.

“What’s that to do with it?” demanded Bones, getting up from his chair. “Haven’t you been with us long enough to know that we of The Third are never tied down by precedent?”

“But all this happened long before you were in the service,” I ventured. “How does it happen that you can reel it off as smoothly as if you’d been there to see and hear it?”

25 “Oh, I’ve heard the colonel tell it so often that I’ve got the whole lesson by heart,” admitted Bones.

“Yes,” I said wearily, “and so have I!”

The surgeon came over to the window and for a moment stood looking down into the deserted court. The sun had sunk lower, and now its rays came slantwise under the awning and through the opened sashes, to flash in dazzling brightness upon the polished blades and glittering spear-heads of the barbaric weapons clustered on the wall above the bookcase. A fly buzzed its way across the broad track of light, and Bones made a sweep at it with his big hand, but the wary little insect promptly changed direction by the right flank, gave the slip to his burly enemy, and joined a squad of his kindred deployed in open order upon the ceiling.

“Quiet, isn’t it?” said the medicine-man; “quiet as an empty fizz-bottle. Never knew the old shop to be so empty at this late hour of the afternoon.”

“It’s July,” I suggested, “and half the fellows are out of town.”

Bones turned and glanced down the long room towards Sam’s corner, whence at intervals26 came the low sound of a contented snore. “Seems something like church, eh?” he said. “We haven’t the sermon, but the proper accompaniment is all here. I take it that the veteran has yielded to heat prostration. Well, I’ll not bother him: I can be my own commissary. Ginger-pop and ice wouldn’t be deadly in the present state of the atmosphere. What do you say?”

“I’ll follow your lead,” said I, rapping out the ashes from my pipe; “ginger-pop’ll do for the foundation—and I can trust you to trim it up properly.”

Stepping softly, the surgeon made his way into Sam’s province, presently returning in triumph with two tall glasses of golden-brown nectar, crested with finely crushed ice, and faintly suggestive of old Monogram. I manœuvred a small table into position between two roomy arm-chairs, and then refilled and lighted my pipe.

“Here’s fun!” said the doctor, politely nodding in my direction, and causing a perceptible ebb in the icy tide in his glass. I made haste to secure the remaining tumbler before replying, in deference to Bones’ profession, “Here’s hoping for an epidemic!”

27 “Now, speaking of The Forty Thieves,” said the doctor, setting his glass back upon the table, and thereby adding another ring of moisture to the two already in evidence upon the polished wood, “I suppose the proudest day in their history was when—just hand over that pipe, will you? It seems to be drawing like a regular flue; mine’s stopped.”

I groaned, but handed over my pipe and rose to hunt for another one. “Now you can chatter along like an accommodation train,” I said, after I had got myself finally settled, with a fresh corn-cob in one hand and my glass within easy reach of the other.

“Meaning with plenty of smoke, and frequent stops for refreshments? Precisely,” said Bones. “Well, it was a great day—the day when The Forty Thieves did up All-Italy. And nobody told me about that, either: omnia ququæ vidi, quorum magna pars fui—Latin!”

“Yes, I’m awake to the fact,” said I. “You needn’t construe.”

“It was all of eight years back,” Bones ran on, “for it was the year before Hazeltine went up to the command of the brigade. Colonel Elliott was major then, and Curtis,28 who’s senior major now, at that time was captain of ‘L’ and reigning Ali of The Forty Thieves. And I?—well, I hadn’t been commissioned, but was serving out the fag-end of my third enlistment as hospital steward. Gad! how the roster’s changed since.”

“Tempora mutantur—Latin!” I hastened to put in at this favorable point. “Proceed, you moss-grown veteran.”

“Well, this was the way of it,” said the learned doctor, acknowledging by a grin that honors were a stand-off on the score of dead languages. “When it came ’round to the time for our fall field-work that year, Hazeltine packed us aboard the cars for Glastonbury, down on the line of the B.S. & N.Y.

“For a wonder, the plan of operations was not at all complicated. The main object of the day’s work was to practise the men in skirmishing and in the gaining of ground by short platoon-rushes. So when we reached our destination, we marched out from the village a couple of miles, and then Elliott’s battalion was detached and posted along a stone wall and among some farm buildings, facing a broad sweep of open meadow, while29 the rest of the regiment footed it along for a mile farther, to return later in the character of bloody invaders.