Our service at Thunderbolt was entirely devoid of any exciting incident or episode in a martial way. If the company fired a single shot at a Yankee during our stay I can not recall it. On one occasion 8 or 10 volunteers from each regiment stationed there were wanted for "a secret and dangerous expedition," as it was termed in the order. There was a ready response from the Oglethorpes for the entire number wanted from the regiment. Among those volunteers I recall the names of W. J. Steed, J. E. Wilson, R. B. Morris, J. C. Kirkpatrick and F. I. Stone. We never knew whether it was a contemplated attack on Fort Pulaski or the capture of a Federal gunboat, as the expedition failed to materialize.
April 18, '63, Henry Wombke of the Oglethorpes, was drowned while bathing in Warsaw Sound, and on July 12, '63, John Quincy Adams, while returning from picket at the Spindles was accidentally shot by George Mosher, who had gone up on the boat to kill alligators.
Some official changes took place in the company during our stay at this camp. To fill the vacancy occasioned by the resignation of Lieut. W. G. Johnson, Charles T. Goetchius was elected, but I have no record of the date. On July 5, '63, the death of Major John R. Giles resulted in the promotion on July 12, of Capt. J. V. H. Allen to that field office in the regiment. Louis Picquet became captain of the company, and on July 14, Geo. W. McLaughlin was elected Jr. 2nd. Lieut.
As a part of the "res gestae" of our soldier life at Thunderbolt, the following incident may be of some interest:
SOAP AND WATER.
My earliest recollections of Thunderbolt is associated with a fruitless effort to mix turpentine soap and salt water. We had reached the place tired and dusty and dirty. As soon as the ranks were broken, the boys divested themselves of their clothing and soaping their bodies thoroughly plunged into the salt water for a bath. The result may be imagined. The dirt and dust accumulated in streaks, which no amount of scrubbing could dislodge for it stuck closer than a postage stamp.
A SUGARED TONGUE.
Col. Geo. A. Gordon was a pleasant, persuasive speaker and in his address to the company urging its division so as to complete the quota necessary for a regimental organization he held out to us a tempting array of promises as to our treatment if his wishes were complied with. An Irish member of his old company heard the speech and in commenting on it said, "Faith, the sugar on his tongue is an inch thick."
The Oglethorpes, though serving as infantry, had retained their artillery organization and Gordon in his plea for a division, said that the incorporation of such an organization into an infantry regiment would be an anomaly—that we would be "nyther fish, flesh nor fowl," giving the English pronunciation to the word "neither." Some time afterward the Colonel was making his Sunday morning inspection of quarters and had reached Elmore Dunbar's tent. As some of Dunbar's mess were sick, he had hoisted a yellow handkerchief over the tent and with a piece of charcoal had placed on its front the sign, "Wayside Home." Gordon saluted as he came up, and then noticing the sign said, "Sergeant, what is your bill of fare today," "Nyther fish, flesh nor fowl," said Dunbar, and the Colonel smiled and went his way.