“And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng,
Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along.”
Thus ruminating he was disturbed by a sentry who told him that only those connected with the regimental commissary department were allowed there; he must therefore go. Clifford went—about three feet—and stood with his eyes resting on a pile of tinware, which was also to be issued proportionately with the rations. Something must be done; he must get on the inside track some way. His experience told him that some company was going to get left when the distribution took place, and never should it go down in history that Company B would be that company. No; not while he was quartermaster. His reputation was at stake, he must now, if ever, display the great power, spirit, and desire for “taking” that surged and swelled within his manly breast, only awaiting the opportunity to burst its bounds, and acquire every thing in sight.
But how to get on the inside—ah! an idea strikes him, and he immediately busies himself helping the lonely sandwich-maker. Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald appears upon the scene and asks Clifford who gave him a position in his sandwich manufactory. Clifford evaded the question by humbly venturing his opinion that it would take all day to make sandwiches for the whole regiment; and why not issue the rations in bulk to each company and let them make their own sandwiches. “A good idea” said the commissary sergeant; and for the suggestion Clifford was allowed to take his company’s rations, which consisted of 10 ℔ corned beef, 5 ℔ cheese, 1 large bologna sausage, 1 roll butter, 12 loaves bread, and last, but not least, the apple of every good soldier’s eye, a keg of hop juice. The stores issued were 2 tin buckets and 20 tin cups.
Clifford began to take the rations, and when he finished taking an inventory of the contents of the capacious chest in his tent, it was as follows: 15 ℔ corned beef, 10 ℔ cheese, 2 large bologna sausages, 2 rolls butter, 18 loaves bread, 8 buckets, 40 tin cups, 2 coffee-pots, 3 dozen each tin plates, knives and forks, 2 large knives, 1 bucket sugar, and 1 bucket coffee. It was a glorious take, a splendid beginning, and well might our quartermaster gaze on the results of his industry and activity with pride, feeling that he had done his whole duty.
LIEUT E. C. LUNDQUIST CAPT. I. B. COOK LIEUT. G. FILMER
For a while Clifford had clear sailing; he was on the inside track; was admitted to the ground floor, so to speak; but on a fatal day the regimental commissary ran short of butter, and the different company quartermasters were notified to that effect. This did not phase Clifford; from the cavernous depths of his chest he produced a roll of rich golden butter; and the gastronomical wheels of the boys’ insides were as liberally greased as if the regimental commissary had tons of butter. Not so with the members of the other companies, the sandwiches that were wont to slip down their throats when well buttered now rasped tissues and membranes in a most painful manner; a great howl was sent up thereat, and a still greater howl when it was discovered that B’s men had butter. The other company quartermasters thinking the regimental commissary was unjustly discriminating in favor of Company B made a great kick to Fitzgerald. Company B have butter, impossible! They received no butter from him, this mystery must be solved, he straightway swooped down on Clifford, and taking him unawares discovered the well-filled condition of his larder, there he saw many things whose disappearance from his quarters puzzled him not a little, he had discovered the leak in his stores, and ever afterwards Clifford was looked upon with a suspicious eye. Whenever he was seen approaching the commissary department, Fitzgerald immediately made a hasty inventory of everything in sight, and when anything disappeared he was off like a flash to see if Clifford had it. From this on Clifford had an uphill fight—a fight in which he was invariably victorious.
Our regiment was camped about two hundred yards in the rear of the Capitol, on the line of L street, the Third Regiment was camped the other side of the park, about one hundred yards from the First. General Dickinson declared the camp closed, sentries were posted, and no one was allowed to leave or enter the camp without a special permit.
The Captain’s tent was at the head of B street, and he shared its occupancy with First Lieutenant E. C. Lundquist, better known as “easy” and Lieutenant George (Chesterfield) Filmer, famed for his shapely form and the cut of his Prince Albert coat. All three officers were loved by every man in the company, and the same feeling of confidence that was felt by the men in their officers was felt by the officers in the men.