"I'll just h'ist me windi, an' I'll yell, 'To h—l wid yer ravalye; I'll slape as long as I plase.'"
Many of these "calls" were parodied by the men. Here is the reveille:
I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up,
I can't get 'em up at all, sir;
I can't get 'em up, I can't get 'em up,
I can't get 'em up at all.
I'll go and tell the captain,
I'll go and tell the captain,
I'll go and tell the captain,
I can't get 'em up at all.
This is the sick call:
Get your quinine, get your quinine,
And a blue pill too, and a blue pill too.
Get your quinine.
And so on down the list. The retreat call at sundown was really enjoyed and was made more of. The day's work was then over, and each corps elaborated its music, the bands frequently extending it into an evening concert.
The almost universal time-killer was cards. Of course various games were played, but "poker" was king. A game of the latter could be found in almost every company street, officers as well as men took a "twist at the tiger." At the battle of Chancellorsville I saw a game in full blast right under fire of the rebel shells. Every screeching shell was greeted with an imprecation, while the game went on just the same.
After our return home I was told of one man who made enough money at cards to successfully start himself in business. It was said he performed picket duty by hired proxies during the following winter in camp at Falmouth, and gave his time wholly to the game. A New York City regiment lay adjoining our camp that winter, and a truer lot of sports, from colonel down, never entered the service. These men, officers and all, were his patrons. They came to "do the Pennsylvania novice," but were themselves done in the end.
On the 3d of October our brigade made what was termed a reconnoissance in force out through Loudon County, Virginia, to Leesburg. It was reported that Jeb. Stuart was there with a force of cavalry and infantry. General Kimball was sent with our brigade to capture him if possible. Our orders on the evening of October 2 were to report at brigade head-quarters at seven o'clock A.M., with three days' rations and sixty rounds of ammunition. This meant "business," and was a welcome change from the monotony of camp life. A regiment of cavalry and two batteries of artillery had been added to our brigade for this expedition. The morning dawned bright and beautiful, but the day proved a very hot one, and the first three or four miles of our march was around the base of Loudon Heights, close under the mountain over a very rocky road, and where there was not a breath of air stirring. We were delayed by the artillery in getting over this portion of the route, and then we were marched almost on the run to make up for the lost time. General Kimball had gone forward with the cavalry, leaving his adjutant-general to bring up the balance of the column as rapidly as possible. In his efforts to hurry the men forward the latter overdid the matter. The result was the men dropped in scores utterly exhausted, so that within three hours our number had been reduced more than half, and at the end of the march in the evening there were just twenty-five officers and men of our regiment present for duty, and of the whole infantry force, three thousand strong at the start, there were less than two hundred present at the finish. This was due to an utter lack of judgment in marching.
The distance covered had been twenty-three miles. The day had been hot, the road rough, and the men, in heavy marching order with three days' rations and sixty rounds of ammunition, had carried upwards of ninety pounds each. With such a load and under such conditions, to expect men to march any distance at the hurried pace required was criminal folly. It bore its natural fruit. Our men were scattered on the route from Harper's Ferry to Leesburg, a demoralized lot of stragglers. My diary mentions this experience with much indignation and attributes the folly to the effects of whiskey. Of course, this was only a surmise.