Part 5 (2/2)
”Oft in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain had bound me, I felt the awful bite Of 'skeeters buzzing 'round me.”
Their bills were presented on the first day of the day of the month and, unfortunately, on every other day. At our picket stations on Wilmington and White marsh Islands and at the ”Spindles” on the river where the young alligators amused themselves by crawling up on the bank and stealing our rations, there was a larger variety known as gallinippers, from whose attacks the folds of a blanket thrown over our faces was not full protection.
But there were still others. On dress parade in the afternoons, while the regiment was standing at ”parade rest” and no soldier was allowed to move hand or foot until Richter's band, playing Capt. Sheppards Quick step, had completed its daily tramp to the left of the line and back to its position on the right, the sandflies seemed to be aware of our helplessness and ”in prejudice of good order and military discipline”
were especially vicious in their attack upon every exposed part of our anatomy. Capt. C. W. Howard, I remember, was accustomed to fill his ears with cotton as a partial protection. I have seen Charlie Goetchius, while on the officers' line in front of the regiment, squirm and s.h.i.+ver in such apparent agony that the veins in his neck seemed ready to burst.
Neither whistling minies, nor shrieking sh.e.l.ls, nor forced marches with no meal in the barrel nor oil in the cruse ever seemed to disturb his equanimity in the slightest degree. Quietly and modestly and bravely he met them all. But the sandfly brigade was a little too much for him.
In addition to these discomforts, the salt water marsh, near which we were camped, never failed to produce a full crop of chills and fever as well as of that peculiar species of crabs known as ”fiddlers.” Gen.
Early was once advised by one of his couriers that the Yankees were in his rear. ”Rear the d--l,” said old Jubal, ”I've got no rear. I'm front all round.” These fiddlers seemed to be in the same happy condition.
Their physical conformation was such that no matter from what side they were approached, they retired in an exactly opposite direction without the necessity of changing front. But of the chills. Of the one hundred and fifteen men in our ranks only three escaped an attack of this disease. The writer was fortunately one of the three. One man had fifty-three chills before a furlough was allowed him. Quinine was scarce and boneset tea and flannel bandages saturated with turpentine were used as subst.i.tutes. Whiskey was sometimes issued as a preventative. In pursuance of a resolution formed on entering the service I never tasted the whiskey and as soon as my habit on this line became known, I was not subjected to the trouble of looking up applicants for the extra ration.
The dearth in medical supplies recalls other facts showing the straits to which the Confederacy was reduced on other lines by the blockade of its ports. Letters written in '63, and now in my possession, show that my brother, then a.s.sistant Surgeon at Tallaha.s.see, Fla., could not purchase in that place a pair of suspenders nor a s.h.i.+rt collar--that my mess could not buy an oven in Savannah, though willing to pay $30 for it and that I ordered shoes for Capt. Picquet, and other members of the company from a Mr. Campbell at Richmond Factory, as no suitable ones could be had in Savannah.
Our service at Thunderbolt was entirely devoid of any exciting incident or episode in a martial way. If the company fired a single shot at a Yankee during our stay I can not recall it. On one occasion 8 or 10 volunteers from each regiment stationed there were wanted for ”a secret and dangerous expedition,” as it was termed in the order. There was a ready response from the Oglethorpes for the entire number wanted from the regiment. Among those volunteers I recall the names of W. J. Steed, J. E. Wilson, R. B. Morris, J. C. Kirkpatrick and F. I. Stone. We never knew whether it was a contemplated attack on Fort Pulaski or the capture of a Federal gunboat, as the expedition failed to materialize.
April 18, '63, Henry Wombke of the Oglethorpes, was drowned while bathing in Warsaw Sound, and on July 12, '63, John Quincy Adams, while returning from picket at the Spindles was accidentally shot by George Mosher, who had gone up on the boat to kill alligators.
Some official changes took place in the company during our stay at this camp. To fill the vacancy occasioned by the resignation of Lieut. W. G.
Johnson, Charles T. Goetchius was elected, but I have no record of the date. On July 5, '63, the death of Major John R. Giles resulted in the promotion on July 12, of Capt. J. V. H. Allen to that field office in the regiment. Louis Picquet became captain of the company, and on July 14, Geo. W. McLaughlin was elected Jr. 2nd. Lieut.
As a part of the ”res gestae” of our soldier life at Thunderbolt, the following incident may be of some interest:
SOAP AND WATER.
My earliest recollections of Thunderbolt is a.s.sociated with a fruitless effort to mix turpentine soap and salt water. We had reached the place tired and dusty and dirty. As soon as the ranks were broken, the boys divested themselves of their clothing and soaping their bodies thoroughly plunged into the salt water for a bath. The result may be imagined. The dirt and dust acc.u.mulated in streaks, which no amount of scrubbing could dislodge for it stuck closer than a postage stamp.
A SUGARED TONGUE.
Col. Geo. A. Gordon was a pleasant, persuasive speaker and in his address to the company urging its division so as to complete the quota necessary for a regimental organization he held out to us a tempting array of promises as to our treatment if his wishes were complied with.
An Irish member of his old company heard the speech and in commenting on it said, ”Faith, the sugar on his tongue is an inch thick.”
The Oglethorpes, though serving as infantry, had retained their artillery organization and Gordon in his plea for a division, said that the incorporation of such an organization into an infantry regiment would be an anomaly--that we would be ”nyther fish, flesh nor fowl,”
giving the English p.r.o.nunciation to the word ”neither.” Some time afterward the Colonel was making his Sunday morning inspection of quarters and had reached Elmore Dunbar's tent. As some of Dunbar's mess were sick, he had hoisted a yellow handkerchief over the tent and with a piece of charcoal had placed on its front the sign, ”Wayside Home.”
Gordon saluted as he came up, and then noticing the sign said, ”Sergeant, what is your bill of fare today,” ”Nyther fish, flesh nor fowl,” said Dunbar, and the Colonel smiled and went his way.
FIRE AND FALL BACK
The monotony of garrison duty and our comparative exemption from danger during our stay at Thunderbolt, developed the spirit of mischief in the boys to an inordinate degree and no opportunity for its exercise was allowed to go unimproved. Bob La.s.siter, while off duty one day, was taking a nap on a ”bunk” in his cabin. His unhosed feet protruded from the window, probably with a view to fumigation by the salt sea breeze.
Jim McLaughlin pa.s.sed by and taking in the situation called Jim Thomas.
Twisting and greasing a strip of paper they placed it gently between Bob's unsuspecting toes, fired the ends and then made themselves scarce in that locality. As the lambent flame ”lipped the Southern strand” of Bob's pedal extremities, he, doubtless, felt in the language of Henry Timrod, ”Strange tropic warmth and hints of summer seas” and probably dreamed of ”A Hot Time in the Old Town” that day. But if so his dreams were short-lived. With a yell of pain he fell back on the floor of his cabin, and then,
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