That night our officers from Lieutenant to General got on a spree. They had some kind of a dance, music and singing of camp songs. They had a heavy guard to keep the file and rank from bothering them. At ten o’clock they ran out of commissary whisky, and sent a detail back to the warehouse to get some. The guard that was at the warehouse, and our string guard decided to have a spree also. We procured augers, and as the floor was on piling, four feet above the ground, we went to boring through. The first trial was successful and one barrel was soon issued. Like a bee getting a taste of honey, the whole camp came rushing to divide if the guard would let them through.
Several augers were soon working. A German in Company C was standing on post, when his messmate came running out. He said, “Chris, let me out!” “I vill, Shon, if you vill divide up mit me,” answered the guard.
John ran to the commissary and seeing the contents of four or five barrels spilling out, slapped his kettle under and caught it full of what he supposed to be whisky. He didn’t take time to taste it. The boys had struck two kinds of “oil” there. Some of it was salt beef or “red horse” as the boys would call it. It so happened that John got his kettle full of the salty brine.
When he stopped, he said, “Hurry oup Chris, or dey vill catch us.” The guard gulped down two or three swallows, threw down the kettle, and called out “Corporal of de guard—Beat No. 4. Run here queek, I am seek at mine stomach.”
This put an end to the fun of the night. But there were several drunk men in the regiment after all. Along in the latter part of the night all of the officers except one had cooled down and were quiet. That one’s song I will never forget. It was,
“Go tell Aunt Nancy, her old gray goose is dead,
One she has been saving to make her feather bed.”
The 19th corps crossed the bay. Colonel Spicely had taken command in the absence of Colonel Barter. On the 27th our corps was reviewed by General E. O. C. Ord. On the 28th we crossed the bay and went into camp.
The next morning we went in wagons on a scouting expedition. While traveling five miles we saw no dry land. This country was fit for nothing but raising alligators.