While waiting, Quartermaster Sergeant Clifford went about preparing lunch. It was the same old menu that had been served for seven days—corned beef, cheese, and bread. The men were used to it now, and looked for it as they would for the coming of the night. Being a little short of butter, the Quartermaster hastened to the officers’ mess tent to see if a slice happened to remain from the morning meal. There was, “Praise Jehovah,” more than a slice of butter. Boxes, containing canned oysters, corn, tongue, lobster, prepared beans, and deviled ham, carelessly left open, met his gaze. His thoughts, as his eyes lingered fondly upon these delicacies, seemed to say, “You’ll be mine, by and by.” Hastily opening his shirt, he placed, in a lovable way, can after can next to his breast. (Anyone who has ever seen Clifford on an expedition of this kind knows the expansive qualities of his shirt.) Then, laden with spoils, or rather luxuries, he darted like a flash down the company’s street into his tent, where that noble box, could it but speak, would tell of many such takings, was waiting to receive the treasure. Private Hayes, noticing the hasty move, followed the Quartermaster, and desired to know where such things could be had. Learning their whereabouts, he lost no time in also relieving the mess tent of a fair shirtfull, and then returning to have them stowed away in the Quartermaster’s box. Sergeant Clifford, not wishing to do any thing by halves, innocently inquired, “Billy, did you leave any thing?” Hayes, in surprise, answered, “Why, yes, I think there is a couple of cans left.” “Well, now, that’s too bad,” says Clifford, and away he hastened, thinking of the remorse he would have to endure should he fail to secure those remaining cans. Quickly securing these, he made another grand bolt for the noble box. Scarcely had he reached his tent, when Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald entered the officers’ mess tent; he wasn’t in that tent a second when he staggered backward out again, his eyes bulging out of his head. Throwing his arms convulsively in the air, he exclaimed in heartrending tones, “Oh, God! what is this?” The shock he received was a terrible one. Recovering himself, the agonizing look on his face gave place to one of fierceness. A bloodthirsty look came into his eyes. Suddenly realizing Clifford’s taking propensities, he made a bee line for the company’s street. Woe to the man upon whom Fitz laid his heavy hand. Hayes, however, was on the lookout. Seeing Fitz charging for the street, he immediately warned the quartermaster sergeant that Fitz was on the warpath. Quick as a flash the box was closed and locked. It was none too soon, for immediately after Fitz appeared upon the scene perfectly wild. “Clifford,” he yelled, “did you take any thing out of that tent?” “What tent?” asked Clifford. The apparent innocence displayed by the quartermaster seemed to lift any doubt that Fitz entertained concerning his connection with the affair. So he quickly started off on another trail. Clifford came very near to owing the company a dollar, for it nearly terminated in being a complete shave for him instead of a close one.
Baumgartner having returned from his mission, all hands made ready for lunch. A couple of cans of oysters and tongue were opened in honor of the raid on the commissary stores. It is needless to say that the meal was relished. Right after lunch the men started to take down the tents. Owing to limited number of trucks the work of removal was very slow.
In the course of the afternoon the brigade commissary sent over for a few men to carry the commissary stores to the sidewalk, and thence be loaded upon the trucks. Quartermaster Clifford and Private Overstreet volunteered their assistance, not, however, from entirely selfish motives. In the natural run of events they succeeded in relieving the brigade larder of a number of useful things, such as canned beans, sugar, potted ham, and soap.
At about five o’clock the work of demolishing was completed. The details were united and marched to Ninth and D streets, where the opposite process, of erecting tents, was going on.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FIRST REGIMENT AT NINTH AND D STREETS.
ON receiving the order to go into camp the regiment was formed at the east end of the depot and marched down the tracks to Ninth and D streets, where we were met by the baggage wagons conveying our camp outfit, tents, knapsacks, etc., from the Capitol grounds, which were henceforth occupied only by the 6th and 8th regiments.
Headquarters were quickly established on the grounds of a vacant house occupying the northwest corner of Ninth and D streets, and the order to establish camp given. Now every thing became a scene of confusion. Willing hands soon unloaded the baggage-wagons and men from each company carried the rolled tents to the ground they were to respectively occupy. Now did the rule of “taking” as established by that king of vandals, Clifford, again come into use. Far-seeing men of the Jack Wilson and Sam Wise type, scenting a chance for plunder, generously offered their services to that greatly worried individual Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald. Thankfully accepting the extraordinary offer, he set them to work carrying the commissary stores, including a great many boxes of pears and plums, into the vacant building in rear of the headquarters. On this fruit, it soon appeared, had Wilson and Wise and their cohorts cast an evil eye. Thus does it now appear, though, in justice to these skillful foragers, it should be admitted that they offered very plausible excuses when, a few hours later, a dozen or so boxes of fruit were found carefully stowed away in their tents. It was now plain that “Every man for himself and the devil take the hindmost” had become a well-established rule.