Blue Shirt and Khaki: A Comparison

by James F. J. Archibald

There has been a great outcry in the United States against the army “canteen” as having a bad influence over the soldier. If the people who rail at this establishment will look at it in a proper light they will see that instead of increasing drunkenness it has a direct tendency to decrease it. Some men drink to excess whenever they get a chance, and such men always will do this, for alcoholism is a disease, and its victims will always find the opportunity to get drink. Others are quite satisfied with a single drink; but they want that one, and they will have it. If they cannot find it at the post they will go where they can obtain it, and that means in some saloon, where the temptation to take more is far greater than at their own canteen. Not only is the desire less in the post canteen, but should a man become intoxicated in the least degree no more would be served him; while if he were in a public house he might keep on drinking as long as he could stand up against the bar, or as long as his money held out.

In the British army the use of large quantities of jam is supposed to prevent, to a degree, the craving for liquor, and consequently it is issued to the men regularly. Tea is also a part of the British ration that is never used in the American army, as our men do not want it. The American soldier laughs when he hears of British troops in the field being served with afternoon tea; but its use is so universal in the British Empire that the men crave it as our men crave coffee.

The British soldier in the field is better fed than the American, and he has more variety; but to obtain that variety of food costs time, and in consequence the troops move much slower than ours do.

The rations of the South African army were in marked contrast to those of the Fifth Army Corps during the Santiago campaign. We got bacon, hard bread, and coffee, and very seldom anything else. Occasionally tomatoes in cans were issued to us, and sometimes sugar; but the three staple articles just mentioned were all we were sure of, and all we wanted. The volunteers suffered somewhat, because they did not know how to cook these simple rations so as to make them acceptable; but the regular, who had lived on them many times in the West, was satisfied and asked nothing more. The tomatoes were issued in gallon cans, and naturally were exceedingly difficult to carry if the regiment was moving rapidly.

I recall that on the day when the battle of Guasimas opened, General McKibbin’s brigade was encamped near Siboney, and we were ordered to go into action on General Young’s right, as it was known the enemy was in front of us in force, and it looked as though a general battle would ensue. The brigade was ordered on the road just as some rations had been issued, and in the issue were these large cans of tomatoes. The men could not carry them, and so were compelled to abandon them. I waited until the regiments had moved out, and then watched a crowd of Cuban “soldiers” gathering up the cans, as well as a lot of blankets that some of the men had thrown away. I allowed the Cubans to gather a goodly lot, and then ordered them to carry the stuff on the march forward, and later in the day, when the regiments had halted, our men got their rations back. It is almost useless to issue food in large packages to men on the march, for they cannot possibly carry them, and the food is wasted. It is not the custom of our commissary department to do this, but for that Cuban campaign the government bought all the food supplies that could be found, regardless of the covering.

The further task of putting rations on the firing line, or at the extreme front, is a prodigious difficulty. The railroad is used as far as possible, and then wagons and pack animals are brought into play. In South Africa the transportation was exceedingly crude. All sorts of wagons and carts were brought into service; everything that rolled on wheels was promptly commandeered. Ox-wagons, buckboards, Cape carts, grocery wagons, and even private carriages were a part of the long line of vehicles. The ox-carts and great trek-wagons were chiefly used for commissary supplies, but they were so heavy as to be unsuitable for the work. An ox-cart was drawn by a span of sixteen or twenty animals, while the army wagon was drawn by ten mules. This was almost twice the number necessary, and the superfluous stock greatly delayed the operations, for it could not carry much more than its own feed. Those mules were much smaller than our big army mules, but six would have been ample for any ordinary load. When more are used, there is a great amount of energy lost. Pack-mules were almost unknown, and they are never used in South Africa as they are always used in the army of the United States. One of our trains of forty mules can carry much more than forty mules can pull, and with far greater ease. The pack-train, moreover, can go anywhere, over any sort of roads or treks, even into the firing line itself, with rations or ammunition; while a wagon must have a good road or it will be compelled to turn back.

In our trains the mules are not bridled, but are taught to follow the lead of a “bell-horse,” an animal with a bell around its neck, and either led or ridden by one of the packers. Wherever that bell goes, the other mules will follow, regardless of obstructions or anything else. In my judgment, nothing can compare with the pack-mule for transportation in the field. Wagons are useful as long as there are good, hard roads to follow; but enemies have an unpleasant way of going away from the roads into hills and mountains, or across trackless plains, and there is where the mule is not merely valuable, but absolutely essential. These pack animals can keep up, not only with the infantry, but also with fast-moving bodies of mounted troops. The “packers” of the American army are civilian attachés, but they are a very essential part of the force. They are nearly all men from the West, and are generally of the cow-puncher stamp, afraid of nothing, not even of work. These packers did some of the most heroic work during the Santiago campaign, although they never got any credit for it, and are seldom mentioned in despatches. They are to the army what the stokers are to the navy—the very means of life; yet bound to go on doing that hard, undistinguished work, with no applause from the great unthinking public. They are never seen in parades and reviews, yet to them belongs a great portion of the credit for these displays. The packers of the army are accustomed to go into the very firing line to deliver ammunition. It is indeed a memorable sight to witness these men in action, and to watch their indifference to the danger that is singing about their heads. Very picturesque are these Western packers, with their happy abandon and their oblivion to worry. They wear no uniform, they have no regiment to be proud of; they are just plain, good-natured, hard-working civilians of the great West. The only arms they carry are their own Colts, just as they carried them in New Mexico or Montana.

One day, when the fighting was at its height in front of Santiago, a pack-train came up to the line with a welcome supply of rations and ammunition; and after the boxes had been dumped on the ground, and the men were prying the lids off with their bayonets, one of the packers strolled up to the trenches and drawled, “I ain’t had a crack at a greaser since I left the reservation, so here goes.” He stepped out on the embankment, in full view of the enemy, and emptied his six-shooter towards the little low city in front of us. As the Spanish trenches at this point were fully a quarter of a mile away, his pistol did not produce a panic among them, but he enjoyed his prank.

An improvised commissariat cart in South Africa.