Army Letters from an Officer's Wife, 1871-1888

by Frances Marie Antoinette Mack Roe

The snow was still deep when we left Maginnis, and at the first camp snow had to be swept from the ground where our tent was pitched. But after that the weather was warm and sunny. We saw the greatest number of feathered game—enormous flocks of geese, brant, and ducks. Our camp one night was near a small lake just the other side of Benton, and at dusk hundreds of geese came and lit on the water, until it looked like one big mass of live, restless things, and the noise was deafening. Some of the men shot at them with rifles, but the geese did not seem to mind much.

Charlie told me at Maginnis that he did not want to return to Shaw, and I wondered at that so many times. I went in the kitchen two miserable mornings back and found him sitting down looking unhappy and disconsolate. I do not remember to have ever seen a Chinaman sitting down that way before, and was afraid he might be sick, but he said at once and without preamble, "Me go 'way!" He saw my look of surprise and said again, "Me go 'way—Missee Bulk's Chinee-man tellee me go 'way." I said, "But, Charlie, Lee has no right to tell you to go; I want you to stay." He hesitated one second, then said in the most mournful of voices, "Yes, me know, me feel vellee blad, but Lee, he tellee me go—he no likee mason-man." No amount of persuasion could induce him to stay, and that evening after dinner he packed his bedding on his back and went away—to the Crossing, I presume. Charlie called himself a mason, and has a book that he made himself which he said was a "mason-man blook," but I learned yesterday that he is a "high-binder," no mason at all, and for that reason the Chinamen in the garrison would not permit him to remain here. They were afraid of him, yet he seemed so very trustworthy in every way. But a highbinder in one's own house!

There has been another departure from the family—Bettie has been sold! Lieutenant Warren wanted her to match a horse he had recently bought. The two make a beautiful little team, and Bettie is already a great pet, and I am glad of that, of course, but I do not see the necessity of Lieutenant Warren's giving her sugar right in front of our windows! His quarters are near ours. He says that Bettie made no objections to the harness, but drove right off with her mate.

There was a distressing occurrence in the garrison yesterday that I cannot forget. At all army posts the prisoners do the rough work, such as bringing the wood and water, keeping the yards tidy, bringing the ice, and so on. Yesterday morning one of the general prisoners here escaped from the sentry guarding him. The long-roll was beaten, and as this always means that something is wrong and calls out all the troops, officers and men, I ran out on the porch to see what was the matter, fearing there might be a fire some place. It seemed a long time before the companies got in line, and then I noticed that instead of fire buckets they were carrying rifles. Directly every company started off on double time and disappeared in between two sets of barracks at one corner of the parade ground. Then everything was unusually quiet; not a human being to be seen except the sentry at the guardhouse, who was walking post.

It was pleasant, so I sat down, still feeling curious about the trouble that was serious enough to call out all the troops. It was not so very long before Lieutenant Todd, who was officer of the day, came from the direction the companies had gone, pistol in hand, and in front of him was a man with ball and chain. That means that his feet were fastened together by a large chain, just long enough to permit him to take short steps, and to that short chain was riveted a long one, at the end of which was a heavy iron ball hanging below his belt. When we see a prisoner carrying a ball and chain we know that he is a deserter, or that he has done something very bad, which will probably send him to the penitentiary, for these balls are never put on a prisoner who has only a short time in the guardhouse.

The prisoner yesterday—who seemed to be a young man—walked slowly to the guardhouse, the officer of the day following closely. Going up the steps and on in the room to a cot, he unfastened the ball from his belt and let it thunder down on the floor, and then throwing himself down on the cot, buried his face in the blankets, an awful picture of woe and despair. On the walk by the door, and looking at him with contempt, stood a splendid specimen of manhood—erect, broad-chested, with clear, honest eyes and a weather-beaten face—a typical soldier of the United States Army, and such as he, the prisoner inside might have become in time. Our house is separated from the guardhouse by a little park only, and I could plainly see the whole thing—the strong man and the weakling.

In the meantime, bugles had called the men back to quarters, and very soon I learned all about the wretched affair. The misguided young man had deserted once before, was found guilty by a general court-martial, and sentenced to the penitentiary at Leavenworth for the regulation time for such an offense, and to-morrow morning he was to have started for the prison. Now he has to stand a second court-martial, and serve a double sentence for desertion!

He was so silly about it too. The prisoners were at the large ice house down by the river, getting ice out for the daily delivery. There were sentinels over them, of course, but in some way that man managed to sneak over the ice through the long building to an open door, through which he dropped down to the ground, and then he ran. He was missed almost instantly and the alarm given, but the companies were sent to the lowland along the river, where there are bushes, for there seemed to be no other place where he could possibly secrete himself.

The officer of the day is responsible, in a way, for the prisoners, so of course Lieutenant Todd went to the ice house to find out the cause of the trouble, and on his way back he accidentally passed an old barrel-shaped water wagon. Not a sound was heard, but something told him to look inside. He had to climb up on a wheel in order to get high enough to look through the little square opening at the top, but he is a tall man and could just see in, and peering down he saw the wretched prisoner huddled at one end, looking more like an animal than a human being. He ordered him to come out, and marched him to the guardhouse.

It was a strange coincidence, but the officer of the day happened to have been promoted from the ranks, had served his three years as an enlisted man, and then passed a stiff examination for a commission. One could see by his walk that he had no sympathy for the mother's baby. He knew from experience that a soldier's life is not hard unless the soldier himself makes it so. The service and discipline develop all the good qualities of the man, give him an assurance and manly courage he might never possess otherwise, and best of all, he learns to respect law and order.