“The shades of night were falling fast”
o’er our little city of white, tattoo had sounded, and those who had not already retired were sleepily preparing to do so, when bang! bang! bang! went several shots down the line in the direction of the lower track guard over whose destinies Lieutenant Filmer, of “Ours,” presided. Not waiting for the long roll, which was quickly sounded, nor for the calls of our first sergeant to “Fall in!” “Fall in!” those of us who were awake and dressed quickly buckled on our belts, snatched our rifles from the racks, and “Fell in” in the company street. The excitement was intense, and increasing every moment. Excitable men were dodging in and out of their tents, forgetting their belts, forgetting their rifles, forgetting every thing, it would seem, but the fact that some one either was or had been “blazing away” down the line. One, almost delirious, was racing back and forth, shouting to our busy first sergeant, high above the noise created by the others: “Al, will I get my leggins?” “Al, will I get my belt?” “Al, will I get my gun?” “Al, will I——.” “Shut up, and fall in,” almost yelled our harassed sergeant, as he wheeled round on the luckless wanderer, who jumped into his tent, and appeared the next moment, shouting: “Al, will I get——,” but “Al” was not to be seen, and the anxious questioner who “was not scared, far from it,” he only wanted to be told what regalia to appear in on such an august occasion, was compelled to fall in with the less punctilious members of the company.
At the other end of the street an equally amusing scene was enacting. Charlie Perry, who had just finished a long twenty-four hours of guard duty, had gone soundly to sleep, but at the first note of alarm, dimly realizing that long roll had sounded, jumped from his blankets, dressed like a flash, grasped his rifle, and sprang forth from his tent. Still half asleep, he arrived in the middle of the street, brandishing his rifle, and threatening to “blow the head off” of every striker in Sacramento. It took all of the muchly-overworked “Al’s” persuasive powers to get the redoubtable Charlie into the ranks, where he undoubtedly would have done much to make his promise good had the opportunity offered.
The opportunity did not offer, however. At the first note of the long roll the captain dispatched two men down a narrow alley, which appeared to afford a short cut in the direction of the firing, to investigate how far the alley was open. They reported it open for at least a block, affording a chance for a quick passage to the street below, which led directly to the tracks at the point where the track guard was posted.
By this time the cause of the firing had been discovered. A sentry, posted near the crossing of Tenth street and the tracks close to the point at which Tenth street becomes simply a road through the marsh between the levee and the river, was the primary cause of the excitement. He had been one of our later arrivals. Coming up the river on the boat he had come in contact with two disreputable looking characters, who made it their business to advertise the fact that they were ex-convicts, and boasted loudly of what they intended to do, on their arrival, to the “blue coats.”
While pacing his beat he noticed these same two strolling round, just outside the lines, in a most suspicious manner. Finally, making up his mind to question them, he challenged. Not waiting for a second call, the supposed ex-convicts rushed across the road, and over a low fence into a barnyard. The sentry opened fire in the direction in which they had run, and kept it up lustily, though the night was so dark he could not see objects clearly thirty feet from his beat. Great was the excitement of the guard, as, led by Lieutenant Filmer, the reliefs not on duty rushed down to the scene of the firing. But by this time the rattle of musketry had ceased, and the only sound to be heard was the groan of some wounded creature in the barnyard. On investigation it proved to be a horse, so badly hurt as to make it necessary, next morning, to put the poor animal beyond reach of pain.
This, indeed, proved a rather tame ending to all the excitement at camp, but thus it was.
To go back to the American river bridge guard. After a cautious run of about fifteen minutes the train arrived at the bridge. Most of the railroads in this county are built on the levees. At this point on the American the levees on either side are about one-half a mile from the banks of the river. Consequently, while the bridge over the river proper is of no great length, the approaches of trestle-work on each side from the levee to the bridge form a very extensive work to guard, in all fully a mile and a quarter in length. There were two bridge-tender’s houses raised on piles, and connected with the track by a small platform large enough to hold a hand-car for the use of the tender. These houses were built one at each end of the bridge proper, or just over the banks of the river. On account of the nature of the ground, the guard was divided into three sections, the first of about twenty-five men, under Lieutenant Dumbrell of C, relieving the regulars on guard at the nearer end of the trestle; the second of about ten men, under First Sergeant McNally of G, relieving those who, stationed at the first tender’s house, guarded about one hundred yards of trestle and the bridge; and the third, composed of the remainder of the guard, under Lieutenant Eggert of F, relieving those who guarded the half-mile of trestle on the farther side of the river. With this latter guard went the squad from B, under Corporal McCulloch. His brother, the doctor, expecting this to be the point at which his services would be most liable to be called for, was also stationed here. This bridge duty proved to be what the boys called a “snap.” The third division of the guard bivouacked on the bank of the river, a little to the rear of the bridge-tender’s house. A camp fire was lighted, details for guard made, and the sentries for the succeeding two hours posted at intervals in the shadow of the trestle, along its half-mile of length. The men, tired with their day’s work at pitching camp, and one at least of B’s men, having served night and day on the two just preceding days, rolled in their blankets, stretched themselves on the windward side of the fire, with their feet as close to it as the combustibility of leather would allow, and composed themselves to sleep. This sleeping, however, quickly proved a most difficult undertaking. They thought that their Sacramento experience had made them “skeeter proof”; but the present experience surpassed their wildest imagination. They heard not the hum, but the flapping of the wings, of countless swarms. One facetious young man claimed he had killed a bat; but it was found to be only an innocent mosquito, who had intended relieving the soldier of one of his brass buttons. Now the smoke of the fire came into use; but these did not seem to be the kind of mosquitoes you read about; they were impervious to smoke, much to the disgust of the men. Lying there, the lucky ones with handkerchiefs over their faces, the poor harassed soldiers would hear, first, a song of “cousin-n-n,” as a thirsty skeeter hovered over his prey, and then a vindictive “ping-ng-ng” as he swooped down on some exposed spot. The victim’s turn would now come, however, and a vigorous slap would be heard, then a grunt of satisfaction, or a growling voice inviting the escaped marauder to take a pleasant journey to unknown regions. However, sleep will come under almost any circumstances to the really tired, and the men gradually fell asleep in spite of their winged tormentors. They had rested less than half an hour when they were sharply wakened by four or five shots fired in quick succession, followed by yells for the “Corporal of the guard.” In a flash a dozen or more had thrown off their blankets, grasped their rifles, and were running along over the uneven ground, led by Lieutenant Eggert, in the direction of the shots. This run proved how ineffective was this method of posting the sentries on the ground. At places a sentry who had to patrol one hundred yards of bridge could not see ten paces from him, and had to pick his way carefully over the uneven ground, and, in one place, around the edge of a swamp. Calling as they went, the guard continued to run in the direction in which the shots had been heard, and came upon the sentry, after having run a full half-mile. He was stationed at the extreme end of the trestle, at the point where it meets the levee on which the remainder of the road is built. He had fired, he said, on two men coming along the levee toward the trestle, and who had run down the embankment and across the field on being challenged. The commander of the guard, after questioning the sentry closely, decided to double the number of sentries, and consequently the length of time to serve, and stationed them on instead of under the bridge, warning the men to avoid, as far as possible, exposing themselves against the sky-line. The new sentries were posted in squads of two at about every third water barrel along the bridge. B’s men, all of whom had joined in the run toward the firing, were placed on this new detail. Nothing further of an exciting nature happened during the night; but some thing of a most disgraceful nature did happen during the four hours, from 10 P. M. till 2 A. M., this same detail were on guard. Private O’Brien of B, who, with Private McKaig of the same company, was stationed at posts 6 and 7, growing cramped and cold in his crouching position, decided, at about 1 A. M., to warm himself by patroling in the direction of posts 8 and 9. He was promptly challenged by the sentries at these posts, and, on his coming back, McKaig decided to patrol in the direction of Nos. 4 and 5. Moving carefully along over the ties, and keeping a sharp lookout, he expected each moment to be challenged. He was not, however, and, wondering whether he had miscalculated the distance, kept on. Soon a most surprising sight met his eyes. The two sentries, not men of B company, we are most heartily glad to say, were stretched across the ties, sound asleep, with their loaded rifles lying by their sides. No punishment is too severe for such a crime. Little account need be taken of such an occurrence were the worthless lives of the culprits the only ones in jeopardy; but a sentry on duty at a camp, where the lives of his comrades depend on his watchfulness, or when on any other important guard duty, who deliberately lies down and sleeps at his post, as these two had evidently done, merits any punishment, no matter how severe. In the case of these two worthies it would seem to be a common practice, for they were again found asleep under the bridge while on duty next day.
At 2 A. M. the first detail, which had now served four hours, was relieved, use being made for that purpose of a hand-car on which Major Burdick, accompanied by his Adjutant, Lieutenant Hosmer, had come down the track on a tour of inspection a few moments before, bringing with him a most welcome pot of coffee and can of sandwiches. Of the latter, however, the detail just relieved saw little, each man getting about half a sandwich, the other men of the guard, who had been refreshed by four hours of sleep, having thought it their duty to see that the sandwiches were properly disposed of before these really tired men arrived at the campfire.
The men on this guard were a most voracious set, as B’s detail found out to its sorrow next morning. The rest of the night passed quietly, and daybreak found our men, with the exception of George Heizman, again on guard. On being relieved these men found that breakfast had been already cooked, served, and eaten, great care being taken, as during the night, that nothing should be left for the men who were yet to be relieved. All this, too, in spite of the fact that a B man, Heizman, of whose comrades the present detail was mainly formed, had kindly acted as cook. The tired and hungry men of course “raised a kick,” but as usual each individual warmly denied having “doubled up” on his allowance. It was in a heated argument with one of these lusty eaters, whom he had found seated near the fire letting out a hole or two in his belt, that a B man held that he of the belt was not singly a hog but one of a drove close at hand.