Things Seen. With Portrait. 16mo, Cloth, 75 cents; 12mo, Paper, 25 cents.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
The Letters of James Russell Lowell. Edited by Charles Eliot Norton. With Portrait, 2 vols., 8vo, Cloth, $8.00; Half Calf, $12.50. (In a Box.)
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Life In the Regular Army.
Most people who see members of the National Guard in showy uniforms and on dress parade, and some people who see United States regular troops on pleasant Sunday afternoons, sitting on the banks at Fort Wadsworth, and enjoying the exquisite views of New York upper and lower bays, get the notion that a soldier's life is a jolly and a lazy one. I can speak from experience when I state that the life of an enlisted man in a heavy battery of the United States artillery is not always jolly, and not as lazy as it sometimes appears.
One needs good references and a better body to get into the regular army. Many American young men who have the inclination to enter the army have not the physique, and so it happens that the American service has, one might almost say, every nationality in it except Americans.
I belong to Battery D, First Artillery, which was stationed at Fort Wadsworth when I enlisted, but has since been transferred to Jackson Barracks, a few miles out of New Orleans. Although much under thirty, I have seen service in a foreign country's armed forces, and have been in many parts of the world. Like most other Americans who enter the army, I enlisted in small part because I thought I might like the service, and in great part because I could not, just then, find anything else to do. The physical examinations to get into the service are most rigid, and there is much of what people call "red tape," but I suppose all of the latter is necessary.
Recruits in the United States Army are called "Rookies"—why, I don't know. You can readily tell a rookie from a veteran. A rookie's earliest interest concerns his "kit," which is his personal property, although issued to him by the quarter-master. The kit comprises a great number of articles, including under-clothing, shoes, collars, white cotton and fur gloves, half a dozen styles of caps, a dress-coat, and a brown canvas suit for "fatigue" duty. Each man is allowed $60 the first year, $28 the second, and $30 the third to spend for clothing. The government loans to him a bedstead, mattress, sheets, pillow, clothes box and bag, besides gun, canteen, knife, fork, and some other odd things.
Barrack life is not one which every man can take a liking to at first. The enlisted man, in scores of cases, is a rover, to begin with. But a company of such men thrown together presently find their "bunkies." They pair off by a sort of natural selection. The accidents of the mess, or of walking post, or guard duty lead to a rough-and-ready friendship.
A trying period for the recruit is while he is in the sergeant's training, getting his first lessons in drill. This he begins without gun—or arms, as the gun is called in the army. It is not till he has had these private lessons for three months that he is turned over for duty, walks his first post, and comes to be regarded by his fellows as a full-fledged soldier.
THE YARD, JACKSON BARRACKS.
In the morning no one comes and tells a fellow that breakfast is ready. At Fort Wadsworth the bugle sounded at 5.30 in summer, and 6 in winter. Ten minutes later reveille sounds, a gun is fired, the flag is raised on the post staff—a large flag for a pleasant day, and a smaller one for a stormy day—and the fort is swarming with men running here and there, and going down stairs three steps at a bound. Assembly for roll-call is only five minutes after reveille—not a long time to wash and dress. But a fellow in the service has to do as he is commanded. You have heard of the captain who told the recruit that there were three things to do to make a good soldier. The first was to obey orders; the second, to obey orders; and the third, to obey orders. There are mess-call for breakfast, sick-call for hospital, and fatigue-call for men who are to do extra duty, like mowing weeds, moving guns, or maybe milking the colonel's cow, should he keep one. Then those remaining in barracks spend half an hour swinging clubs, running, jumping, or other exercise to develop the muscles. Each post commander fixes the hours for drills within certain limits, but guard-mount comes early in the fore-noon, is usually performed in full-dress uniform, and executed the same in all military posts. A new guard goes on and relieves the old one. There is quiet in the post, save for the bugle that marks the hours, till half past eleven, when recall is sounded. At twelve dinner is ready. At one work begins again, if there is work to do, and lasts till half past four. Supper is at five, and at sunset there is dress parade. The work done is, cleaning up the reservation, mounting or moving guns, digging ditches, and doing a lot of things that don't appear in accounts of military manœuvres and show parades.
In winter school is kept, usually by one of the commissioned officers, when there are classes in range-finding, knotting and splicing ropes, gunnery, and the like.
Sunset parade is what the soldier's lady friends always come to see. It is ceremonious. Let me tell you about it. All are obliged to answer the call for it, and fall in on their respective parade-grounds, neatly dressed, shoes polished, white gloves on, and arms bright. The first sergeant calls the roll, and brings the company or battery to parade rest. The adjutant, or officer of the day, now takes charge, and by a wave of the hand notifies the chief trumpeter to sound off retreat. At the last sound of the bugle the corporal of the guard fires the evening gun, and another member of the guard hauls down the flag. The first sergeants report the presence or absence of the men, and the corporal of the guard locks up the colors, to remain so till reveille next morning.
This ends the day's routine of a regular army enlisted man in barracks, and he may go where he pleases until eleven, when taps is sounded. At taps the lights must go out. A check-roll is taken to see if any men are absent. This is done by a sergeant or corporal, who takes a list of names of the men, and, with a lantern for light, goes through the rooms to see if each man is in bed.
Special permission is granted to men of good character to absent themselves from retreat, check-roll call, and reveille every day when not on special duty. At Fort Wadsworth, which, with Fort Hamilton, guards the entrance to New York harbor, most men have the afternoons off, and not a few of them put them in in sleep. There is a fascination about the soldier's life. And yet most men in it wish themselves out of it, and are always looking forward to the end of their enlistments, or speculating whether it will pay them to buy their releases. Sometimes we have entertainments in the post hall, and on Sundays the reservation swarms with sight-seers, who ask innumerable questions, some sensible, others otherwise. Do I like a soldier's life? Yes, though I often, as do others in the service, I fancy, build air-castles about what I would do if out of it.
Frederic Wilkens.
Jackson Barracks, New Orleans.