The time spent as a soldier in the ranks passed by all too swiftly. The service was pleasant, the duty easy, and the regiment one of the best in the entire army. I don't know any two and a half years of my life that have been as happy and peaceful as those spent in the ranks of the American Army. When the proper time came my recommendations were all in good shape and I was duly ordered to appear before an august lot of officers and gentlemen at Fortress Monroe, Virginia, to determine my fitness to trot along behind a company, sign the sick-book, and witness an occasional issue of clothing. One warm June afternoon I bade good-bye to the men who had so long been my comrades, and journeyed to the eastwards. I was successful in the examinations, and on a Sunday morning early in August, myself, in company with twelve other young chaps, received the precious little parchment in which the President of the United States sends greetings and proclaims to all the world:— "That reposing especial confidence and trust in the valor, patriotism, and fidelity of one John Smith, I have made him a second lieutenant in the regular army. Look out for him because he hasn't much sense but I have strong hopes as how he will learn after a while." "... Dennis, lying under the telegraph line, his left hand still grasped the instrument" This time I thought surely I had heard the last of the telegraph, never again was I going to touch a key. I had been at my first station just about two months when one morning I appeared before the Signal Officer of the post and plaintively asked him to let me have a set of telegraph instruments. He did, and it wasn't long before I had a ticker going in my quarters. There was no one to practice with me, so I just pounded away by myself for an hour or so each day, to keep my hand in. I have yet to see a man who has worked at the business for any length of time who could give it up entirely. It's like the opium habit—powerful hard to break off. I have never since tried to lose sight of it. In 189- one of those spasmodic upheavals known as a sympathetic strike spread over the Owing to the fact that the army cannot be used until a state executive acknowledges his inability to preserve law and order, and owing also to the fact that the executives in one or two of the states were pandering to the socialistic element, saying they could enforce the laws without the assistance of the army, this strike had spread until the entire country except the extreme east and southeast was in its strong grasp, and the work cut out for the army was doled out to it in great big chunks. Men seemed to lose all their senses and the emissaries of the union succeeded in getting many converts, each one of which paid the sum of one dollar to the so-called head of the union. Snap for the aforesaid "head," wasn't it? It was positively refreshing to the army at this time to have at its head a man who did not know what it was to pander Way out in one of the far western posts was a certain Lieutenant Jack Brainerd, 31st U. S. Infantry, serving with his company. Jack was a big, whole-souled, impulsive chap, and before his entrance to the military academy, had been a pretty fair operator. In fact, being the son of a general superintendent of one of the big trunk lines, he was quite familiar with a railroad, and could do almost anything from driving a spike, or throwing a switch to running an engine. The first three years succeeding his graduation had been those of enervating peace; all of which palled on the soul of Lieutenant Jack to a large degree. The martial spirit beat high within his breast, and he wanted a scrap—he wanted one badly. The preliminary mutterings of this great strike had been heard for days, but no one dreamed that anarchy was about to break loose with the strength "Won't pull this train, eh! Well, damn him, we'll make him pull it. Here, Mr. Brainerd, you take some men and go forward and make that engineer take us through these yards. If he refuses you know what to do with him." Do? Well, I reckon Jack knew what to do all right enough. He took Sergeant Fealy, a veteran, and three men and went forward. The engineer, a little snub-nosed Irishman, was at his post with his fireman, a good head of steam was on, but nary an inch did that train budge. A big crowd of men and women stood around jeering and laughing at the plight of the bluecoats. Pushing his way through the crowd, Jack climbed up into the cab closely followed by his little escort. "Sergeant Fealy," he said in a voice loud enough to be heard a block, "get up on that tender, have your men load their rifles, and shoot the first d——d man that raises a hand or throws a missile. And you," this to the engineer, "shove that reverse lever over and pull out." "But, my God, lieutenant," expostulated the engineer, "this is my home and if I pull you fellers out of here they'll kill me on sight—besides look at the track ahead. I'd run over and kill a lot of those people." "There's no 'buts' about it. This train is going in or I'll lose my commission in the army; besides if these people haven't sense enough to get out of the way let 'em die." Mr. Engineer started to expostulate farther but the ominous click of a .38 Colt's was incentive enough to make him stop and then he shoved her over and gave her a little steam—just a coaxer. "Here, you blasted chump, that won't do," and with that Brainerd reached over and yanked the throttle so that she bounded away like a hare; at the same time he gave her sand. It's a great wonder every draw head in the train didn't pull out, but fortunately they held on. The crowd on the track melted away like the mists before the summer's sun, and beyond a few taunting jeers no overt act was committed. The engineer didn't relish the idea of a soldier running his engine and became somewhat obstreperous. Brainerd grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and landed him all in a heap in the coal. Then he climbed up on the right-hand side of the cab and took charge of "Hello, Bates, where in thunder did you spring from?" There wasn't much time for talking because the great city was groaning beneath the grasp of anarchy, and until that power was broken, there would be no rest for the weary. The situation that existed at this time is too well known to require any explanation here. The state and city authorities were powerless; the militia inefficient and many a citizen bowed his head and thanked God on that warm July morning for the arrival of the regulars. Only twenty-one hundred of them all told, mind you, against so many thousands of the rioters, and yet, they were disciplined men and led by officers who simply enforced orders as they received them. No matter The morning after Brainerd arrived he was detailed on special service and ordered to report to me, and together we worked until the trouble was over. Just what this service was need not be recorded, but one thing sure, railroads and the telegraph figured in it quite largely. In fact the general superintendent of the Western Union Telegraph Company placed the entire resources of the company at my disposal. A wire was run direct to Washington, lines run to all the camps, and Jack and I each carried a little pocket instrument on our person. Although the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers did not go out in a body, there was quite a number of them who would not pull trains for fear of personal violence from the strikers. One old chap, Bob Redway, by name, had known Major "All right, major, I'll pull you through if the old girl will only hold up. She's a stranger to me, but I reckon she'll last." Brainerd and I were to go along and do some special work around the stock-yards, and soon we were shooting down the track like a flyer. At 62nd street we passed a sullen looking crowd and when we reached 130th street, we were flagged by the operator in the tower, and informed that the mob in our rear was starting to block the track by overturning a standard sleeper. They were going to cut us off. We cut the engine loose, put fourteen men up on the tender, and Brainerd and I started back with them. The engine was going head on, having backed out from the city, and Bob let her put for all she was worth. Just at 62nd I took the little instrument, nippers and wire and up I went. There were side steps on the pole so the ascent was easy. What a scene below! Five or six thousand angry faces, besotted, coarse and ill-bred looking brutes, gazing up at me with the wrath of vengeance in their hearts; and held at bay by a band of fourteen battered and bruised bluecoats, a wounded engineer and fireman, commanded by an almost beardless boy. Well did that mob know that if those rifles ever spoke there would be a number of vacant chairs at the various family boards that night. The wire was soon cut, the main office gave me department headquarters and in thirty minutes' time that mob was scattering like so much chaff before the wind, and with a ringing cheer, two companies of the —th Infantry came down among them like a thunderbolt. We were saved and took Redway back to camp with us. That evening the major came over to see him. Poor chap! he couldn't speak but he motioned "Don't worry, major, I'm all right. My speaking machine seems to have had a head end collision with a cyclone, but if you want me to pull any more trains out my right arm is still in pretty good shape." Bob hung to us all through the trying weeks that followed and in the end some of us succeeded in getting him a good position in one of the departments in Washington. Far up in the Northwest things were in a very bad shape. Everything was tied up tight; mail trains could not run because there were no men to run them; "Debsism" had a firm grasp; and even though many of the trainmen were willing to run, intimidation by the strikers caused them to go slow. At one place, call it Bridgeton, there was an overland mail waiting to go out, but no engineer. Here's where the versatility of the American soldier came in. Major Clarke of the —th Infantry, had four companies of his regiment guarding public property at Bridgeton and he sent word by his orderly that he wanted a locomotive engineer and a fireman. Quick as a flash he had six engineers and any number of men who could fire. He chose two good men and then detailed Captain Stilling's Pokeville was one hundred and two miles from Bridgeton and the run was carefully made and without incident. When the volunteer engineer and Captain Stillings, who was playing conductor, went to the office for orders, they found the place deserted. A sullen-looking crowd was looking on and appeared to enjoy the discomfiture of the soldiers. They had put the operator away for a while. Pressing up near the sides of the train they became somewhat ugly and Captain Stillings "Mr. Mitchell, I'm going into this telegraph office. If this crowd gets ugly I want you to shoot the first damned man that moves a finger to harm anybody." But without an operator orders could not be procured, and without orders the train could not go. Captain Stillings was in a quandary, but all at once he stepped out in front of his company and said in a loud tone, "I want an operator." "I'm one, sir," said Private O'Brien, quickly stepping forward and saluting. "Go in that office and get orders for this train." "Yes, sir," replied O'Brien, and in a minute another bluecoat was helping the train on its way. If Captain Stillings had wanted a Chinese interpreter he could have gotten one—any old thing. The train had no further mishaps, because everything necessary to run a railroad was right here in one company of sixty-two men belonging to the regular army. July slipped away and it was well into August before we returned to our posts and the old grind of "Fours right," and "Fours left." |