From Headquarters: Odd Tales Picked up in the Volunteer Service

by James A. Frye

This is "The Battery."

Yes, this is The Battery, and here you may drop in on any night with the certainty of finding a pipe and a mug, and good fellows in plenty with whom to pass the time of day and pick to bits the latest thing in the way of general orders.

What gave it the name? I cannot tell. I only know that we always have spoken of it thus, perhaps because of the shining brass howitzers that stand on end, one on either side of the chimney-piece. At odd times, to be sure, we have talked of giving the old sky-parlor some more high-sounding title, but the years have gone by without ever our getting to it, and the name which first was thrown at the place has stuck to it. And now, since Pollard, our junior major, has used his influence in municipal politics to have the name of the court changed to correspond, the chances are that "The Battery" it will be, so long as the Third stands first in the service—which, we fondly hope, will be always.

One night in December we had been having a battalion drill at the armory, and—an occurrence by no means uncommon—a goodly array of officers from other regiments had come over to see our work, and openly congratulate us upon the beauty of it, while secretly hugging to their hearts the conviction that they could do the same things twice as well. When the armory part of the programme had been put out of the way, we all adjourned to The Battery, and there—after Sam had relieved the visitors of their heavy, military coats, which he folded and stacked upon a chair, like so many cheap ulsters in a ready-made clothing store—our guests went 'round the room on the usual tour of inspection, while those of us who had not detailed ourselves to act as guides helped Sam to load the long table with pewters.

Presently all the mugs had been filled with beer, and at a glance from the colonel we gathered about him. "Gentlemen of the Third," he said, raising his froth-capped mug, "our guests!"—and upon this hint we drank heartily, and very willingly indeed, to the visiting officers whom we had with us. Then Major Wilson, the senior of our guests, proposed our healths, and with the conclusion of this simple ceremony we laid aside all formality, and scattered ourselves over the room, while Sam passed around the tray of pipes and the great Japanese jar of cut-plug.

Each equipped with corn-cob and mug—for our tastes are not luxurious, and beer and tobacco amply satisfy them—we split up into groups, and as the smoke-cloud became more dense the talk grew louder, until the clatter of mugs, the humming monotone of many voices, and the frequent bursts of laughter combined to drown the sound of the hissing and crackling logs in the fireplace.

"Is that one of your trophies, Major?" asked Kenryck, of the brigade staff, speaking to Sawin, our surgeon, and nodding up at a huge pair of moose horns upon the wall above the mantel.

"No, that's a contribution from the colonel," replied Sawin, alias "Bones," setting down his mug and wiping his mustache as he spoke. "Langforth and I plead guilty to the slaughter of most of these horns and hides, for we're the 'mighty hunters' of this aggregation, but that pair of antlers fell to someone else's rifle. Splendid pair, eh? There's a sort of story goes with 'em, too. Ask the colonel."

"Yes, there is a story connected with that pair," said Colonel Elliott, who, from his side of the table, overheard the doctor's suggestion. He rose, transferred his chair and mug to a position next Kenryck, and continued: "In fact, when we began to fit up this place, we made it a rule not to admit among the decorations anything which didn't have a history of some sort. So, you see, The Battery is rather an interesting establishment, and if any of us had time or taste for that sort of thing we could get up a good-sized book without having to go outside these walls to hunt for material."

"It's a mighty interesting outfit—the whole of it," said Kenryck, glancing up and down the long room, and noting the collection of odds and ends upon the walls and in every nook and corner. "We're pretty well fixed, up at our headquarters, but we've nothing so homelike as this. The general often says that he enjoys nothing more than an inspection of the Third, with a 'wind-up' afterwards up here. Possibly you've noticed that, on occasions of that sort, his whole staff is apt to come with him."