The "Fall-in!" whistle was blown and we were a bit surprised as well as amazed to see our strange friend fall in in front, still chewing vigorously; he evidently didn't know or didn't care a damn whether it was against the rules to chew tobacco when parading. The Sergeant-Major eyed him curiously and then stepping to his side whispered something; we knew he was explaining to him that he was infringing orders, but a non-commissioned officer is not permitted to bawl out another non-com in the presence of the men. Hastily bestowing the quid in his hand he stood to attention. Roll call finished and we retired to our bunks.
Early next morning when we emerged from our quarters the first person we saw was the odd-appearing individual that had joined up with us the night before, with his inevitable note book in his hand. He was still busily sucking his indelible pencil in the corner of his mouth, and, in the light of the morning sun, there was nothing about his mug that was any more prepossessing than appeared in the twilight of the previous night. He also had on the sleeve of his coat a crown, indicating that he was to be our acting Sergeant-Major in the absence of the regular officer, and when not so acting, he was to be the First Sergeant of the section.
The official activity of our new friend commenced to be evidenced in a number of ways; he lost no time in making us understand that he was First Sergeant. "Sergeant Grant, detail two men for the cookhouse!" Then to the gunners, "Here, you, clean up your wagons and take off all that mud; it's filthy"; this was absolutely unnecessary and the fellows swore vehemently under their breath; to the drivers,—"Clean up that 'ere 'arness and get that mud hoff it"; he also compelled us to burnish the steel and made the gunners scrub the paint off the brass and sandpaper it up. This necessitated the men going to a shop and purchasing the sandpaper themselves, as disobedience of the order meant a sojourn in the clink and the excuse that he had no sandpaper would not go.
By the time old Sol had reached the meridian, the First Sergeant had succeeded in getting himself thoroughly hated, and many and earnest and unique were the resolutions to "get even." This feeling was intensified by his order to gather up some scantlings of hard wood and bring them to his quarters; he was a sort of a one-horse carpenter by trade and had started manufacturing for his own especial use and benefit a wooden structure large enough to house himself.
The idiosyncrasies of our newfound friend manifested themselves variously, the first and chief characteristic by which he came to acquire the sobriquet of "Hambone Davis," was his habit of heading for the cookhouse each morning before the men were dismissed from the horse lines—which was necessary before we could appease our always ravenous appetites—so that he could garner for himself an edible that was longed for and looked for by every man who could get it, i.e., the ham bone, because there were always more or less pickings on it and he was a lucky fellow indeed who was successful in capturing the prize. But, in his official capacity, Davis was able to get out and get over there ahead of us every morning and during his entire stay in our crowd, he was the only man who each morning got the ham bone. Hence his cognomen.
Long, earnest and secret conferences were had as to the way we had best settle our grievances. Among the conspirators were Dynamite Pete, so-called because of his habit of taking shells, fuses and bombs apart and examining and prying into their contents. One time his curiosity came nearly getting him a quick passage West. He was examining a bomb and, taking out the pin, was holding it in his hand, looking at it for a brief instant. Providentially an officer was standing beside him who saw his mad act and, grabbing the bomb from his hand, flung it into the field—and just in time! It exploded before it had well gotten on its way.
Pete's answers to the officer, while respectful, were tantalizing to a degree:
"What did you do that for?"
"What are they here for?"
"Why did you take the pin out?"