The party were in light marching order, each man with a day’s rations and forty rounds of ammunition in the cartridge boxes, and it left camp an hour and a half before midnight, at which hour it was intended to reach the house of Colonel N——. The path was a narrow forest roadway, and for the greater part of the distance led through what was known as the “three-mile wood.” The night was moonless and very dark, and the detachment filed on, mile after mile, always on the alert and suspicious of every sound, until at last, and in good time, they reached the cleared land about Colonel N.’s “palatial mansion.” Deploying an advance guard they proceeded with the utmost caution to surround the house, and but for the dogs, who challenged loudly, the purpose would have been readily accomplished; but the inmates were speedily astir, alarmed by the baying of the hounds, and lights danced about from window to window. Whether rebel soldiers were among the occupants or not could not be told, but soon men came out at the doors, and their footsteps could be heard as they ran, but no one could see ten feet away to distinguish a man from a tree.
Orders had been given not to fire without command, and to give chase in the darkness would risk the loss of men without any good result. The party therefore went on cautiously to surround the house, and men were posted in such manner as to command all approaches to the mansion, with orders to halt and arrest whoever attempted to enter or to leave. After these guards were posted, the remainder, under a sergeant, were marched away for a half mile up the road, making considerable noise as they went, and then halted to await orders. In the meantime the squad about the house was kept quiet in the darkness, out of the way of any light from the windows. After ten minutes had elapsed the door of the mansion was opened and some one looked out, thinking, no doubt, that the disturbers were well away. Then, as if the door opening had been a signal, the sound of footsteps was heard approaching slowly through the dry leaves and twigs in the woods; then a whispered conversation, and again the steps approached. A moment later two men came on, until, when within five feet of the commander, they were halted with the order, “Surrender, or I fire.” At first they turned, evidently with the intention of escaping, but changed their minds, saying, “Don’t fire, we surrender.” These proved to be two of the men of whom the expedition was in search. They had been in the house, and had started at the alarm, thinking that the troops were from the rebel lines; had waited until, as they supposed, the detachment had passed on its way, and then were going back to the house. Leaving these men under guard the house itself was summoned. The door being opened by a woman, and the lady of the house called for, four of the party entered and were referred to a beautiful and accomplished young lady of perhaps twenty years. Miss N. received them courteously, but declared upon her honor that no men from our camp had been in the house that day or evening. She was informed as politely as possible that there was an error in this statement—that two such men had already been secured, and that search would be made for more. This resulted in the arrest of a third man, and having bagged him and apologized for the disturbance that had been caused, the party moved away.
“While life lasts,” says the captain, who commanded, “I shall not forget the flash of the young lady’s eyes when I questioned her assertion. I have often thought that if every southern soldier had to look for approval or disapproval into such a pair of eyes, it was no wonder victory often perched on their banners when the odds were against them.”
At half past two in the morning the party was back again in camp with three prisoners, and found that two others who ran from the house had returned of their own accord. All of these were of course technically deserters, but none were severely punished. The result of this expedition was to put a stop to a practice by means of which valuable information, no doubt, reached the enemy.
XV.
OUT ON PICKET.
PICKET duty may be the most agreeable or it may be the most disagreeable of all the duties of a soldier, but it is always an important, and is often a dangerous one.
Picket-guards are formed by details on orders from headquarters. Sometimes the guard will include the entire regiment, or details from several regiments, but if the orders are from the battalion headquarters, it is usually composed of detachments from several companies. The officers are detailed from the adjutant’s roster and the designation of the enlisted men from each company devolves upon the first or orderly sergeants. The officers, non-commissioned officers and men, are supposed to be taken for duty in rotation, and woe befall the unfortunate orderly who designates one of the confirmed growlers out of what he considers his turn, as laid down on his own time-table, and many are the threats heaped on the head of the sergeants, which happily are never executed.
Under command of the ranking officer, the detachment is marched out and posted to guard the line assigned to its protection—usually there is merely a chain of sentinels who are relieved at regular intervals of time from the main body; but sometimes, and always in the case of detached outposts, the men are divided into groups of three or more, under the supervision of the non-commissioned officers of the guard, while the commander of the whole line establishes reserves at points convenient for reinforcing it in case of need, and assigns to the subalterns the command of various portions.
Relieved from the wearisome round of camp duties and parades, and placed where each man has his own responsibilities, and must exercise his own judgment, picket duty often becomes an acceptable change, both for officers and men. In the warm season the men make a sort of picnic of their tour, and out on the front edge of the occupying army they can frequently obtain articles of food, which, although common enough in civil life, are real luxuries to those who have been limited in their diet to the rations issued in the army. They bask in the sunshine, or loiter in the shade—and when it is their turn for repose, the jackknives are busy and the chat is lively.