I see by the papers which somebody has been sendin’ me that our little ‘Sheepskin beater’ of company H has trun down his drum sticks an tuk up a pen an’ is riting’ war stories. I’ve hearn tell that the ‘pen is mightier than the sword’ which was probably true of the ‘toad-stabbers’ carried by the drummer boys durin’ the war. But say, youse lads were great wid the drum sticks, and would make a divil of a racket in the mornin’ whin a fellah wanted to slape.
Many’s the time whin lyin’ so comfortable wid me rubber poncho betwix me an’ the sod, an’ dreamin’ of me darlin’ an’ dear ould Ireland, hev you disturbed me slumbers wid your batin’ of the reveille, and I’ve bin that mad I cud have kicked you an’ your drum into the middle of nex’ week. But whin youse kids led us out on a p’rade to the chune of ‘Rory O’More’ it was like goin’ to a Donnybrook fair so aisy was the marchin’ behind the drum corps of the Second Heavy. If ould Pat does say it you were a foine lot of youngsters, and whin it came to drummin’ youse cud give odds to any drum corps in the 1st division. Say me boy, them were great days, weren’t they? You were but a small kid but I suppose are growin’ grey wid the rest of the ould boys.
Your riferince to me tilt wid Major Roach, who was forever yellin’ out ‘Quicker nor that,’ brings those days back to me mind, an’ it does not seem 40 years ago. Roach an’ some of the other officers we had on the go-in were a quare gang. But that Colonel Whistler from the regulars was all right. Wasn’t he? Jermiah N. G. was a peach an’ he made a good regiment out of us, an’ the Second Heavy made a brigadier out of him by the way they wint for them Jonnies the 16th of June at Petersburg. Say, me blood runs hot whin I think of the mornin’ in the peach orchard whin Whistler led us in that charge.
Dan, me oldest son, wint to the Spanish war and it makes me laf to hear him tell about the hardships at Tampa and the charge of San Wan. One evenin’ he was entertainin’ some of his friends wid riminescences and one of the young ladies said she thought it an outrage for the government to send them home from the war in common every-day coaches. ‘Palace cars were none too good for the soldier boys.’ I agreed with her, but said I remember thet our regiment who saw four years’ service were sint home in box cars with divil a seat or whisp of straw to lie on. I tell Dan that if he had followed Gen. Hancock’s old battle flag with the ace of clubs on it, from Bull Run to Appomattox, stopping occasionally to take a hand in skirmishes like Antietam, Gettysburg, Cold Harbor, Spottsylvania, Petersburg, Reams Station, Five Forks and a few other small affairs, he would know more about war.
The boys were all right though. The trouble in the last war, was, that there was not enough of it to go around.
By the way I think you galloped over the Appomattox campaign a little too lively. It was short and none too sweet, but there was a good bit doin’ in them ten days, and it seems to me you could have given a few more particulars without wearying your readers.
The prisint generation who are wadin’ knee deep in clover won’t be hurt by being reminded of what the old vets suffered for them.
I remember onct that our liftenant Tom Waters said that whin I got to talking I did not know whin to stop and I guess you’ll think it’s the same wid me letter rittin’, so here’s to you and yours. Keep a stiff upper lip. Never show the white flag.
Yours for the Union.
P. DEVEREAUX.
MY CAPTAIN.