It was on Independence Day that Gilbert found himself on the firing line for the first time. The Allies were trying to keep open the line of communication along the railroad to Tien-Tsin; but twelve miles from Tongku the rails were completely gone, the road-bed crossed by newly-made ditches, and the Boxers were on the constant lookout, hoping to entrap any “foreign devils” who might show themselves. In the mean time Tien-Tsin was being furiously bombarded by Boxers and Shantung government troops combined, who had brought to the scene a number of powerful Krupp siege guns.
“Lieutenant, we are ordered out up the railroad,” said Captain Banner early on the morning of the Fourth of July. “The whole battalion is going, and Major Morris agrees with me that we are likely to celebrate the day by firing a good many shots.”
“All right, captain. I am ready any time the major sets,” answered Gilbert, with a grim smile. “I came to China to fight; and I believe fighting is a good bit like swimming,—the sooner you get into trim for it and plunge in, the better off you are. It won’t do for a swimmer to stand on the bank and shiver, as he looks at the cold water; and it won’t do for a soldier to get the ‘yellow shakes,’ as our Western boys term it, listening to the guns from a distance.”
At this homely view of things, Captain Banner laughed. “I don’t believe you will get the shakes,” he said. “You have been through the mill too often.”
“But I may get them, nevertheless. I have heard tell that the best of officers get shaky at times. There is no such thing as utter nervelessness, if you’ll allow me to coin the word.”
Orders were soon going the rounds; and, after a hasty breakfast, blanket rolls were packed, guns inspected, and additional ammunition passed around. In an hour more the battalion was on the march, those left behind wishing the members of the four companies the best of luck.
“Don’t stop until you have gone straight through to Pekin!” cried one of the men left behind. “Show the foreigners what Yankee blood and pluck can do!” And a cheer went up, which lasted until the battalion had left Tongku behind.
The weather was warm and muggy; and, had some of the soldiers had their way, blanket rolls would have been pitched aside, to be picked up by the cart train following. But this was not allowed, for there was no telling where the battalion would rest during the coming night or if the train would get through in safety.
“I have often wondered if the folks at home fully realize the life a soldier leads,” remarked Captain Banner, as he walked along near Gilbert. “They hear of victories or defeats, and read the death lists and all that; but do they realize the knocking around a soldier does,—how he has to tramp miles and miles, be it hot or cold, dry or wet, with a heavy gun and a heavier load, eating when he can and whatever he manages to get, and sleeping very often in the open air and occasionally in a soaking rain?”
“I don’t believe folks do realize it,” answered Gilbert. “If they did, so many of them wouldn’t be for talking of the glories of a soldier’s life and the pride of conquest. Of course there is lots of excitement, when a real campaign is on; but such waits as we had in the Philippines, especially during the wet seasons, are awful.”