Now the members of the relieved guard heard for the first time that Billy Tooker, that prince of hard workers, had that day received a furlough, and had already gone home. After his departure the work about camp languished, no man in the company being found who could take his place and do full justice to the position, as could the former incumbent. Billy returned to us, though not in time, we are sorry to say, to accompany us to Truckee.
Tuesday night gave our new arrivals their first experience of a sudden call for duty. Tattoo had sounded and all the camp was quietly preparing to retire. Many had already wrapped themselves up in their blankets and gone to sleep, when suddenly several shots were fired by a sentry of the camp guard, who was posted just above the camp on the line of the tracks. Instantly the long roll played by the musicians of the guard echoed over the camp. Not waiting for orders, the men tumbled out of their tents, grasping their rifles in one hand and cartridge belts in the other, and formed in the company streets. Considerations of dress were put aside, each man thinking himself fully equipped for fighting if he had on his trousers and belt and his rifle in his hand.
On this, as on the former occasion, the cause of alarm proved but trivial. Some skulker amongst the fruit-cars had approached the line of camp sentries too closely, had been seen and promptly challenged. He escaped by darting round the end of a car and making off down the tracks. His escape, however, proved on investigation to have been very narrow. The bullet was found to have passed through the corner of the car, only half an inch from the open space above the trucks. The succeeding shots were fired by the sentries down the line, who had probably caught a fleeting glimpse of the now flying form as he dashed from one car to another. Others of the shots were doubtlessly fired by men whose fingers seemed to itch to pull the trigger whenever their rifle was loaded with ball cartridge.
No more skulkers or probable “angels of destruction” intent on using “dynamite with discretion” being found, the companies were dismissed, the men returning to their tents to seek the “arms of Morpheus” until awakened by the reveille next morning.
This recall from the land of dreams was sounded earlier next morning than usual. On the day before circulars had been issued by the management of the railroad company offering work to all who had not taken an aggressive part in the strike, and as a consequence many were expected to return to work, while serious trouble was looked for from the malcontents.
The principal entrance to the shops and yards is from the southeast, at about Sixth and H streets, to which point the first battalion of the First Regiment had been ordered to proceed and prevent any violence while the men were returning to work.
While we all knew what duty we were about to perform, the usual “joshing” went on in the ranks at the expense of the timid ones. Some joker professed to have heard that the strikers were going to make an effort, at last, to try their strength with us, and decide the question of supremacy for good. This form of joke soon wore out, and we turned our attention once more to dynamite, that most fruitful theme. We pretended to have heard that our company alone was about to be ordered to Reno, where we had heard the strikers were using dynamite “with and without” discretion—in fact, regulating the amount applied to each individual soldier in the most careless manner. We decided in the course of our debate on dynamite and its uses, to which those for whose benefit the long harangues were given listened with bulging eyes and chattering teeth, speaking only to ask questions, that death being the object, dismemberment, thus far an incident, was really unnecessary; a judicious use of that most costly explosive would fully express their displeasure at our principles and accomplish the desired result physically, without unnecessarily mangling our persons, and leave at least a small chance of collecting a respectable portion of our anatomy to which to give Christian burial.
Our rather gruesome fun was cut short, however, by the order to march. We proceeded along the tracks to the point at Sixth and H streets at which trouble was most likely to occur. None, however, did occur, and after having made a sufficient display of our strength to those who gave us a glance in passing, we were quietly returned to our camp and to our waiting breakfast, a far more important subject of discussion than strikes, or even dynamite.
During the day a rumor gradually spread that A and B were to be sent to Truckee, taking ten days’ rations. Here, indeed, was a prospect of change. How we canvassed the question, and listened to each new rumor as it was brought in from goodness only knows where!
Three B men left for home on furlough during the afternoon. They were Private Max Claussenius, who had received his furlough some days before, Dr. Tom McCulloch, of the hospital corps, and Private Warren, who had received a telegram from his employers ordering his immediate return.