How well I remember the day when I accompanied Capt. Joslin to Washington, and he, taking me into a large music store on Pennsylvania avenue, ordered the clerk to let me have the best drum in the store.
How anxious I was to get back to our camp in Virginia so I could test it, and how my heart went pit-a-pat, as, alone, I marched with my new drum down the line at dress parade the next day. Several months later my precious drum was put out of action by a piece of a rebel shell at Bull Run and was among the trophies gathered up by the confederates in the stampede that followed.
Its loss I regretted exceedingly, for its equal in tone and other good qualities I never tapped the sticks to again. It was a beauty, too; and was my first drum.
DRUMMERS’ DUTIES.
It is hardly to be wondered at that the drummer boys of the 60s got to be very proficient in the handling of the sticks, for when in camp they were having practice from early morn until late at night, and many a time they had to get out in the night and beat the “long roll” for ten or fifteen minutes.
They were the early risers of the camps, too, for at daybreak the fifers and drummers of a regiment would all assemble and sound the reveille, which was several minutes exercise of the most vigorous kind.
The following verses on the reveille were written by a soldier, Michael O’Connor, a sergeant in the 140th New York, and have been pronounced by competent critics as among the “finest lyric lines in the language.”
SONG OF THE DRUMS.
“The morning is cheery, my boys, arouse!
The dew shines bright on the chestnut boughs,
And the sleepy mist on the river lies,
Though the east is flushed with crimson dyes.
Awake! Awake! Awake!
O’er field and wood and brake,
With glories newly born,
Comes on the blushing morn,
Awake! Awake!”
“You have dreamed of your homes and friends all night.
You have basked in your sweetheart’s smiles so bright;
Come part with them all for a while again—
Be lovers in dreams; when awake be men.
Turn out! Turn out! Turn out!
The east is all aglow,
Turn out! Turn out!”
“From every valley and hill there come
The clamoring voices of fife and drum;
And out in the fresh, cool morning air
The soldiers are swarming everywhere.
Fall in! Fall in! Fall in!
Every man in his place.
Fall in! Fall in! Fall in!
Each with a cheerful face.
Fall in! Fall in!”
The next duty of the fifers and drummers was to sound the sick call. The boys made up some appropriate verses which I cannot recall except one line:
“Come and get your quinine, quinine, quinine.”