The 125th Regiment, Illinois Volunteer Infantry: Attention Batallion!

by Robert M. Rogers

BLUE RIDGE.

The event which we are about to relate, happened when for the first time we were placed on picket guard, at Covington, Ky., we were stationed three on a post, with strict orders for one at least to remain awake at all times. The countersign that night, was "Blue Ridge," and about nightfall we received it. One of our boys, very anxious to do his duty properly, was on post when the "grand rounds," as it is termed, was made; at midnight, hearing the approaching footsteps, and, perhaps, feeling the fate of the country resting on his individual shoulders, he halted them when they came near. "Halt," he cried, "you can't pass here unless you say 'Blue Ridge,'" Poor Jake, that word was dinned in his ears for many a long day after, and in fact he went by the name of "Blue Ridge" for the balance of the time we were in the service. At daylight we roused up, and looking off in the direction of our front, saw in the distance a farm house; this brought to our minds visions of breakfast, so after a short conference together, we picked up our guns and marched off, leaving the picket post to take care of itself. We went to the farm house and called for breakfast, which we got and paid for, and then returned to our post. Whether our absence was ever found out or not, we never ascertained, and in fact did not care, but it was not long before we learned that this was not the way in which picket duty should be performed.

RAIDS ON THE SUTLER.

It often happened that we ran out of money, for we would not be paid off, perhaps, for six months at a time, and at such times we would get in terrible straights for tobacco, and such things, and the sutler's goods would be a terrible temptation to us. There they were, arranged in good style back of his counter, caddies of tobacco, piles of canned goods, candy, cheese, crackers and lots of good things. But we could not get them, unless a particular friend of the sutler, without paying cash. The temptation some times was too strong, and if the sutler proved to be of a niggardly disposition, we would conspire to make a raid on his institution. On a night agreed upon, the conspirators would assemble, and going to the sutler's tent, each fellow would take his place at one of the ropes by which the tent was staked to the ground, and at a given signal, each rope that held the tent, would be cut, letting the tent down upon its occupant, and as he was endeavoring, the best he knew how, to get out, the boys would be making off with his goods, and then what a feast we would have. Such affairs did not often happen, and if we did succeed in cleaning him out, he would soon stock up again, and, perhaps, not be so penurious with the boys in the future. But these sutlers made enormous profits. We distinctly remember paying four dollars per plug for navy tobacco, eight dollars for a shirt, worth perhaps, a dollar and a half, and other things in proportion.

JOHN KIRSCH AND TOM MAKEMSON'S RICE TRIP.

While we were lying in front of Savannah, Ga., two members of company I, John G. Kirsch and Tom Makemson, came to the conclusion one day, as food was scarce in camp, to go out into the country and see what success they could have in obtaining something to eat. They procured a mule apiece and away they went. They had not travelled far until they came to a rice plantation, and riding up to where they saw a squad of darkies, they opened up negotiations with them for the purchase of some rice at ten cents per quart. The darkies were willing to sell and our warriors were willing to buy, provided, however, that they could not obtain it by other means. They each had a sack apiece, and soon the darkies had filled John's sack, and he had placed it on his mule, remarking to the colored gentleman, who had measured the rice out to him, that he would go the picket reserve yonder, which was in plain sight, and get the money to pay for it, and bring it back to him. Off John started. By this time Tom had got his sack filled, and getting it on his mule, climbed up saying: "He wondered what in the world was the reason that fellow didn't come with that money; he was a long time sure, and he guessed he had better go and hurry him up, when they would both return and settle." The darkies let him go, but he had not gone far until it dawned upon their minds "dat dem yanks aint goin' for to pay us for dat rice at all," and immediately they started in pursuit, big, little, old and young, and their dogs after "dem ar yanks," shouting and yelling for them to come back and pay for "dat ar rice." They thought they could head the boys off, but it was no use. Tom had a mule which was inclined to be balky, but John got behind him with a stick, and by dint of beating and shouting managed to make him go. They were making good time, with the darkies in full pursuit, when they came to a little branch that crossed their line of retreat. It was but a very short distance in width, and into it they plunged, thinking it was not deep, but in this they were badly mistaken. John's mule went under ears and all, and he gracefully slid off and got to shore the best way he could, wet through and his bag of rice at the bottom of the branch or bayou. Tom managed to get out all safe and together they made their way to camp. But not a word was said. John was shivering with the cold, his rice gone never to be recovered, and Tom not daring to laugh for fear of his life. The darkies gave up the chase and left the boys to make the best of their way to camp. But the story leaked out, and they were twitted unmercifully afterwards about their rice expedition. John was captured shortly afterwards and taken to Andersonville, where he remained three months, but was finally released and arrived home safe. Tom is now in Kansas.

MRS. DR. MARY WALKER.

While we were in camp at Lee and Gordon's mills, our camp was surprised one day by the appearance of a person, whom, if dress was to be the index of the sex, it would have been hard to determine whether, whoever it might be, was male or female. But it proved to be the notorious Mrs. Dr. Mary Walker. She had appeared at Gen. Thomas' headquarters, at Chattanooga, desiring to be placed on duty in the front, as surgeon or assistant surgeon. She had come from the hospitals at Washington, where she had done good service, and where her services were acceptable. But the doctor was ambitious; she had more of Mars than Venus in her composition, and desired a commission with the rank of surgeon, and duty in the field. She had been sent by General Thomas to report to Col. Dan. McCook, our brigade commander, for duty, and here she was. Her appearance was indeed curious, and excited not only the surprise, but the the merriment of our boys, who, although they had seen many curious things in their army life, had never seen the like of this before. Her dress consisted of a low crowned fur hat, with a garment something similar to a cloak, bound with a girdle at the waist, and reaching down a little below the knees, from beneath which a pair of black cloth pantaloons appeared; a small foot, covered with a neatly fitting boot, finished up the picture. When on horseback she bestrode the animal like a man, and unless a person knew who she was would have readily passed for one. Her face was boyish, and so far as our judgement went, was neither good looking or very bad. She was a lady in her deportment, but how it ever happened that a woman should desire to occupy the position she craved, was beyond our comprehension. To be in the midst of such scenes as were transpiring daily, camp life, camp customs, and camp conversation, would, we should think, have been quite contrary to the female longings. She was very punctilious in regard to military etiquette, however, and carried it so far that the boys got disgusted with her. She would demand from a guard the same military treatment as if she had been a general officer. This the boys most generally accorded to her, more out of a spirit of politeness, than anything else. But one day she ran across a fellow who had no polite notions in his head about such matters, who believed only in saluting those to whom he was compelled, by military law, to yield such homage. She had gone out to the picket line, and had started around it, perhaps on a tour of inspection, or, perhaps, merely for a ride. Going along the line, she came to a man on post, who, to all indications, neither saw or heard her, but kept on diligently walking his beat. The doctor came up and rode by. Stopping her horse after she had passed, and riding back to the guard, she said: "Soldier, why don't you salute me?" The guard, looking at the doctor from head to foot, replied: "Who in h—ll are you?" and immediately resumed his walk. The doctor was beaten, and so badly beaten, both by astonishment, and, perhaps, rage, that she rode back hastily to headquarters, as mad as a woman can ever get, to report to Col. Dan, what she considered an outrageous insult. But Col. McCook upheld the soldier in his military behavior, as the doctor amounted to nothing more, in a military point of view, than any other citizen, although deprecating his action as ungentlemanly. If there was any balm in this for her wounded feelings, she was welcome to it; at any rate, it was all she got. Not long after this the doctor went outside of our lines to visit a sick woman, and while there she was captured by the rebels. We never saw her more, and were glad to get rid of her.

THE "MONKLY FOX."

When in camp, or on the march, there was always some one who could extract a laugh for the boys out of the veriest nothing, and such a fellow was very often a regular blessing. Such a chap was Ike C——., a quiet, unassuming fellow, broad shouldered and big fisted, and an excellent soldier. But he had the gift of making more fun than commonly falls to the lot of mortals. One time there had been a detail made from the regiment, while at Nashville, to escort to Louisville a lot of rebel prisoners. Ezra R——. was furnished from company B, and after he returned, had marvelous tales to tell of what sights he had seen on the road and while in Louisville. One evening he was in a tent surrounded by a lot of boys relating to them his adventures. Ike C——. was there with the rest. Ezra had just finished telling of some monstrosity he had seen in Louisville, and according to his description the like had never been heard of before. It stood up when it sat down, and had feelers like a cat-fish on its nose. It was a marvelous creature whatever it was. Ike listened patiently until he had got enough and went out. Just outside the door of the tent he encountered a fellow, and the following conversation ensued: "Say," says Ike, "you ought to go in there and just hear Ezra R——. tell of what he saw in Louisville. It beats anything you ever heard tell of; he says he saw something up there that sat down when it stood up, and every time it blowed its nose it blowed cat-fish out of it." This was all said in such a loud voice that every one inside the tent could hear it, as it was intended they should. Out came Ezra with the rest at his heels. "Where's that Ike?" he cried, "he just told an awful lie about me, he said I told the boys that when I was at Louisville, that I saw something that sat down when it stood up, and every time it blowed its nose it blowed cat-fish out of it; I never said it at all—." Ezra was going on to explain, but the boys could not wait to hear, they fairly yelled and shouted with laughter. The idea of there being such a creature, and to see Ezra get so awful mad was fun enough for them, and it was a long time before Ezra heard the last of his trip to Louisville. At another time, while on the march, one day Philip L——. was relating to a comrade, as we marched along, about a great chase that he and his brother once had at home after a fox. Phil said it was a terrible fox, the biggest ever seen in those parts, etc., etc. Ike C——. happened to be Phil's file leader, and a little while after Phil had finished his story, and we were marching quietly along, nothing much being said by any one, Ike broke out: