And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”
Had the opportunity of developing their genius never presented itself to them the world would have never known the power that lay within their mold of clay, and Company B would have been the loser, but perhaps not the sadder.
About nine o’clock in the morning the regiment was assembled and marched to the depot. At last we were to enter the long-desired building. But under what disgraceful conditions! Only after the regulars had driven out the strikers. How humiliating it was for the men of the National Guard to walk into the depot under the protection, as it were, of three hundred and fifty regulars. It should have been the opposite. Ay, and it would have been so had the rank and file had their way. But the Fates decided it otherwise, and the militia had to be content with what “pie” the regulars did not use.
Arms were stacked in the depot and the men given liberty to move about the building. Observation showed that the regulars had the place well guarded. Two Gatling guns were placed at one of the outlets, pointing threateningly towards the crowd gathered around. The building was also surrounded by a line of sentinels. One of these, a marine, attracted especial attention by his activity and particularly on account of an encounter he had with a burly striker who was evidently not very much impressed with his appearance; for, when told to stand back, he doggedly refused and made an attempt to draw a weapon. No movement ever resulted more disastrously to the mover. The marine quickly threw up his piece, and, catching it by the barrel, struck the fellow a terrific blow with the stock between the neck and shoulder, placing him “hors de combat.” Had the blow struck him fairly upon the neck it would have killed him. As it was, it broke the stock of the gun. The striker was made a prisoner, and a sorry time he had of it too. The case being reported, the officer of the day coolly remarked that the next time, in case of trouble, to use powder and ball, as it was cheaper than breaking guns.
To be a prisoner in the ordinary sense of the term and to be a prisoner under the surveillance of the regular army, especially during the Sacramento campaign, are two entirely different things. One who has ever undergone the experience of being a prisoner for twenty-four hours under the charge of the regulars would most emphatically object to its repetition. The prisoners whom the regulars had rounded up the day previous to the militia reporting at the depot presented this day a pitiful appearance. They had been handcuffed together and incarcerated in one of the small rooms of the depot. Here they stood for twenty-four hours without being permitted to sit or lie down. The sentinels placed over them received orders to shoot them if they persisted in doing so. These were harsh orders, but the occasion demanded them. The poor wretches were certainly in a dilemma. To sit down was death; to stand up was almost as bad. This way of dealing with the prisoners had undoubtedly a salutory effect. The striker, by the time he was released, learned sufficient to make him extremely cautious in the future about drawing a revolver, especially upon a marine.
In the depot there was a small dining-room where coffee and buns could be had for fifteen cents. This dining-room had a fascination for certain of the “boys”; partly because it had a familiar look, and partly because the meal that morning was unusually scanty. At any rate, the place was soon doing a thriving business. Those members of the guard who did not possess the necessary fifteen per, gazed wistfully at their more fortunate brethren performing the magical operation of turning eatables into men. Now, here was a problem for solution; how were they, without money and without friends, going to participate in the performance. Dr. O’Malley was the first to solve the problem. Nor did he find any difficulty in doing so. Seeing no reason why a man in the service of the state should be denied anything that would contribute to the comfort of his stomach, he walked boldly into the place and sat himself down at the counter. He gave the necessary order, and in such a way that one would think he was loaded down with wealth. No doubt the proprietor of the place thought of him in this light. But if he did, how sadly he must have been disappointed; for when O’Malley had sufficiently satisfied his wants, he called the proprietor to him, and in a matter of fact way told him that he was sorry but he had no money to pay for what he had eaten. The man was astounded; but what could he do? His property was gone and could never be recalled. Grin and bear it was all that was left for him.
O’Malley never waited to see the effect of his words, but slowly walked away, as though what he had done was perfectly proper. Not satisfied with this, he made others acquainted with his solution. Running across two of the members of the company, who were loudly bemoaning their sad fate of being without money in a strange land, and thus barred, as they thought, from disposing of a large cup of extra fine coffee, he offered to aid them in securing what they wished. Telling them to follow him, he made his way to the counter again. The proprietor had hardly recovered from the previous shock, when O’Malley, addressing him again, saying, “Now, here is an opportunity for you to do an act of charity. These two men left their homes in such a hurry that they neglected to take with them any money. Give them something to eat, and you will be rewarded for it at some future day.” The man collapsed. It was impossible to refuse such a request, when backed by such a powerful battery of gall. The men received what they wished for. And O’Malley was twice blessed. First, he was blessed by the proprietor of the place. This blessing, however, was of a negative nature. Secondly, he was blessed—and this was a positive blessing—by his two comrades. The way being once known, many worked out the problem. It is safe to say that about half of the business that that coffee establishment did that day was charged to profit and loss.
At about three o’clock in the afternoon the regiment was formed and marched to Ninth and D streets. Here it was decided that the First Regiment should pitch its tents. A lot of work was planned out by Col. Graham for the militia, and in order that this work be done well, it was necessary to break camp at the Capitol grounds, and pitch camp near the field of action. From this time on the men could not complain of not having something to do.
While we were at the depot orders had been given to each company to detail six men, one from each tent, to assist in breaking camp at the Capitol grounds. These details were placed under the command of Captain Marshall, of Company A, and Lieutenant Filmer of Company B, and marched back to the camp. The reason why one man was selected from each tent was that the man selected would see that the property of his tent crowd was packed together and rolled inside of the tent, so that when it came to pitching camp at Ninth and D streets each tent crowd would have no trouble in finding their property. Quartermaster Sergeant Clifford, Privates Hayes, Overstreet, Baumgartner, Gilkyson and Warren were detailed from Company B.
Arriving at the camp about noon the detail of Company B decided to lunch before starting to work. Baumgartner, who is quite partial to the frothed liquid, and who, at the same time, knew his comrades’ fondness for the beverage, suggested that a magic wand in the shape of a tin pail and about fifty cents be employed to make the liquid materialize. Lieutenant Filmer generously contributed the fifty, while the rest of the detail contributed the pail. Baumgartner was then passed through the lines, magic wand in hand, in search of a rock to smite.