I do not recollect the glorious and patriotic speech by which our noble captain fired our “sluggish souls with due enthusiasm for the great cause in which we were about to embark,” but we were put through a course of military tactics, “according to Hardee,” and took up our line of march.
CHARGE, INFANTRY!
There was no Bunker Hill on which to display our valor, but there was another hill, just in rear of the barn nearly, which had not been used in farming purposes that spring, and for this hill we charged at “double-quick.” In this charge—the danger lay in the swamping part of the hill—we unambushed a large flock of hens, chickens, and ducks, from the opposite side.
“Charge bayonet!” shouted our noble captain, with great presence of mind.
We charged! The ducks quacked and fled. The hens cackled and ran. The noise was deafening, the chase enthusiastic, and above the dust and din of battle arose the stentorian cry, “Charge bayonet!” The Donnybrook Fair advice of “Wherever there’s a head, hit it,” was followed to the letter, until the last enemy lay dead on the gory field, or had hid so far under the barn that the small boys could not bring them forth. Then orders came to withdraw, and gather up the dead and wounded.
AFTER THE BATTLE.
There was an interesting string of hens, chickens, and ducks brought in and laid at the feet of our great commander, to represent the fowl products of that campaign. The captain’s congratulatory speech was characteristic also of the fowl proceedings, at the close of which harangue he appointed the “orderly a committee of three to wait on the fortune-teller, and present him with the spoils of war,” of which his “cups” had given him no previous intimation.
What next? The captain informed us that “as the company was ‘mutual,’ it became necessary, in consideration of the losses, to draw on the stock-holders (gun-stock), as he could see no other ‘policy’ under which to assess those ‘damages.’”