Dear Mother:—

The camp has been policed down to the last cigarette stub and gun patch, or anything else that the captain’s keen eye might light on. The call has gone out, “Platoon leaders to the head of the street,” and the day’s work is to be laid out for them. We privates have been studying our maps. For we expect to march to Altona, where last night the first battalion camped, and we suspect that they will march out and oppose us. It is only seven miles by road, but no one knows how long if skirmishing is added.

After mailing my letter last night I sat among others at the captain’s fire, listening to his ready answers to the questions which we fired at him. We went over points of strategy, and discussed the day’s work. It has become plain to me that there is a great advantage in so small a camp as ours, a regiment of but six companies. We can be in or pretty close to every scrap that happens, and all the real military problems are fairly plain to us. Besides, this hike is to be the longest yet. When further you consider that a month of Plattsburg has as many hours of service as a militiaman gets in two years and a half at home, that our continuous service is naturally much more valuable than the militiaman’s weekly drill in his armory, and finally that we are under West Pointers who each day explain and discuss the problem, you can see that a man in the Tenth Regiment has a chance to learn a good deal.

Little absurdities are taking place around me. Says Corder, struggling with his pack, “Bann, will you help me into my corset.” Pickle says to Reardon (out of David’s hearing) “Ten cents for a bum piece of pie that you have to eat with your hands! That gets my goat.” And just now has come a hoot from every part of the camp when from I company, in line to start and loading guns for a skirmish, sounded the pop of an accidental discharge. But the men of I company look sour and glum.

Nevertheless I will admit that I discovered yesterday from personal experience, but luckily in the rattle and banging of a fight, how the gun is accidentally discharged. You draw back the bolt and push it forward again, thus putting a cartridge in the barrel. Then you turn the bolt down. Now if in so doing your third or fourth finger strays inside the trigger guard and presses the trigger (and it is very easily done) then—! But no one could hear my mistake in all the firing.

We marched for some miles unmolested along our westward road, and the amateur strategists among us scanned each rise of ground ahead, predicting fights. But when the row finally began we were too far in the rear to see just what kind of position the enemy had decided to hold. As often happens, we were ordered into the ditch to wait, while the officers consulted briefly, and all the time the rattle of the guns kept up. Half the cavalry, by the way, were with us, and we saw them sent off by a woodroad to the left, supposedly to flank the enemy. Then for our platoon occurred one of our occasional bawlings out. As we waited, having loaded, we saw the 4th, 3d, and 1st platoons ordered over the fence into the field on our right. Being used to seeing the company split into its detachments for different purposes, and hearing no orders, we remained placidly in the ditch—for we are now old soldiers, and are learning not to hunt trouble. But the lieutenant came running, and with a few sharp words deftly removed the scalp of our leader, and retired with it at his belt. So over we scrabbled, and took our place in the column. Then we wandered miles through pastures, woods, and bogs, at first in column of squads, which means four men abreast, and then, as the going became difficult, in squad columns, which means eight men following each other in single file. Note this difference—I wish we had! At one time, for nearly a mile, the whole company was in Indian file, winding through the underbrush.

And as we went thus there came a curious little test of character and discipline. For to us as we halted at one charming bit of stony hillside, cedar grown, came one of the amazing persistent buzzards carrying his whole stock in trade, a box of chocolate bars. We were hungry, and some men bought; even David began fumbling in his pocket as the man came near. But he looked at Knudsen, and the Swede frowned, so when the fellow offered his wares David waved him away. Having shown weakness, he did not attempt to influence Pickle; but that worthy, with a sigh, put up his money. “War is hell,” said he, and cursed the buzzard. None in our squad bought; in fact, though the captain was not in sight, I think the buzzard was disappointed in F company.

Firing was all the time very noisy to our left, and as we moved on it was plain that we were skirting the centre of the scrimmage in an attempt to take the enemy in flank. Now our squad columns were sent forward parallel, eight yards apart, ready at command to spring out in one long line, the men side by side. Through a cedar swamp we now made our way among huge old trees, the firing very hot and close in front, until we were halted at the edge of the thicket, with an open space in front across which was a snake fence some thirty yards away. As we waited the order to advance, we being on the extreme right, a railroad embankment just beyond us, we saw a platoon rush forward from the left, cross the open diagonally, and line the fence in front of us. With objurgations the captain and lieutenant coaxed them again to the left. Other platoons, and perhaps single squads, rushed from cover and occupied the fence, the whole line beginning to fire.

We felt sure that it was our turn next, and were saying so, when apparently the order came. The platoon leader sprang out in front, I made up my mind where I was to go, we all surged forward, crossed the open space, and I presently found myself in the line, firing across the fence at a distant wall, the range of which I calculated to be but a hundred yards, and therefore used “battle sight,” firing low. But here came the lieutenant again, scalped our leader a second time, and ordered us back. So I trailed back across the open ground and meekly took my place with the others again in squad column. We asked each other, “Weren’t we ordered forward?” Some declared that the platoon leader had ordered the advance, others that the lieutenant had sent us out. I knew I had heard his voice, but really I had merely followed on like a sheep. That was proper. But at any rate here was a time when the platoon-leader had made a mistake in keeping us with the rest of the company.

While the platoon, thirty-four men of us, was huddled in its special bunch of trees, all talking and explaining, along in haste came the major, dismounted, demanding if we were in column of squads. With one voice we maintained that we were, but he or his aide knew better, and by the help of our two sergeants bringing the corporals to their senses and silencing the men, we were finally got out of our squad columns, in which formation we had been so long that we had forgotten that there was any other. In column of squads we were swung to the right, put in skirmish line, and halted below the railway embankment, where the major, with great patience and the most painstaking English, explained to our limited intelligences the exact manoeuvre that he contemplated. Then at the word we rushed the embankment, plunged into a ditch, swung to the left, some of us across a wire fence, and prepared to advance and annihilate a bunch of the enemy that we saw before us. But they sending out a messenger, explained that they were dead, which saved us the trouble, not really to our pleasure, for having made fools of ourselves we were anxious to take it out on somebody. And then the bugle blew Recall.

Green troops in battle would cause just such confusion and delay. It was very evident that we had spoiled some plan. The need of a soldier’s training would be plain to anyone that heard the babble of our voices in that corner, conjecturing, advising, urging this and that. We are still very far from the state in which we could be trusted to go into battle and obey every order just as it came. The reasons for this I figure out to be two.

In the first place I have learned that the so-called intelligent volunteer, while able with surprising quickness to master the manual and the drill, with the rudiments of skirmish work, and all because of his trained mind, nevertheless does not readily give up his independence of thought except in the presence of men whom he recognizes as his unquestionable professional superiors. Hence, when deprived of such guidance, each man has his own theory and his own advice, which he voices without modesty.

Secondly, while in the regular army such situations are readily controlled by the—(To be continued. We are going to move on.)

by the non-commissioned officers, it was very evident today that ours had not sufficient control over us because they had not sufficient control over themselves. They were new to their responsibility, and did not understand how to handle the particular problem. And if we had needed another example of what was lacking, it was at hand in a few minutes when on our way to camp, and seeing the tents in plain view across a stream, the captain decided to save us a half-hour by fording. So he led the way down into the water, the lieutenant at his side discussing, tramped across the shallow river, and marched on, whether forgetting us or testing us I do not know. The first squad or two followed gamely, the next faltered, and all the rest spread out in confusion and tried to cross dry-shod. I am glad to say that Squad 8 hung together, hopped over quickly, formed and went on. After a hundred yards we came up with the captain, who was just sending back a sergeant with the message, “Help all the girls across.” When once we were assembled he gave us his solemn promise never to try to save us work again.

What would prevent such blunders in future? I will admit that in each such case non-coms from the regular army would have steadied us and kept us right. Yet I am convinced that what will best control the Plattsburg rookie is the Plattsburg non-com. All we need is to develop a body of them. The regular may serve at a pinch, but in the cases where moral control is more needed than a little knowledge or habitual steadiness, the appeal comes strongest from a man of our own kind.

I suppose that only the shower saved us from an awful roasting at the conference.

The camp is rather picturesquely situated in a broad field that stretches down to swamps and woods, the cavalry at a slight distance across a little swale. Our squad was on police duty for a while, and I was orderly for an hour. The lady buzzards of the town have spread a chicken dinner, at a dollar a head, in the town hall, and many of our fellows have slipped away to it. Yet at dinner-time I saw poor Pickle sitting by the water-barrel, a plate of beans in his lap. I asked innocently, “Why aren’t you at the chicken dinner?” “Don’t ask foolish questions,” he snapped. “Can’t you see I’m tied here to serve out water?”

I went for my bath down to our little river, which bears the imposing name of the Great Chazy; it wanders idle from pool to pool along its half dry bed. In one of the natural bath-tubs I had a fine wash, finding a pool up to my knees, clear cold water where minnows swam trustingly about, and where crawfish, the first I have ever seen, came like little pink lobsters to investigate my toes. After the stagnant brooks at our last two camps, it was delightful to find this clear water and actually get under it.

I was so trustful of the weather that I washed a pair of socks, but I had not got into my clothes before a shower started. I took refuge, with another man, in a cavalry officer’s tent. We had a pleasant little chat with him; he did not resent the intrusion of a couple of rookies, and we talked of camp matters. Intermittently it has been raining ever since.

Men are trying to dry themselves on one side while they get wet on the other. Word has come which puts the company in mourning—Loretta is detained by business, and will not rejoin us. David says in my ear, “Damn him, I meant to get even with him!” This for Reardon’s sake, who laughs at David’s energy, yet I think is rather touched by it. We have had our usual talk with the captain at the company fire, and rather gently he has pointed out to us our shortcomings, especially our platoon’s in giving the major such trouble.

But some men of our platoon came to him with a grievance. In getting us into our column of squads someone swore at the men, and they attributed the profanity to the major’s aide, a volunteer like ourselves. This roused the captain. “No one shall swear at my men!” he declared, his gentleness all gone. “I will talk with that aide.” That obliged me to speak. “Captain,” said I, “I’m sorry to disagree with the others, but as I happened to have admired the coolness of the aide, it doesn’t seem to me that he was in a state of mind to swear.” One of our sergeants spoke up. “I might have done it, sir. I was a little excited.” The man has sworn at us before, and Knudsen has resented it. The captain was mollified by the admission, but he read the man a little lecture. “Never swear at your men, sir. Apart from the fact that it does no good, it’s most unsoldierlike. I never swore at an enlisted man but once, when I was a very young officer, and I never will again.”

I must stop because of the damp and the discomfort, writing in this flickering light, my legs, as usual, cramped. I despair of ever conveying a proper idea of this rainy evening, the indifference of the hardy ones, the dejection of the sensitive, crowding together wherever there is cover, trying to keep dry at fires, or in final surrender crawling into their beds, to wait the hours through. It is not raining at this moment, but I am curious to know what the night will bring. The tent is pretty well ditched, but the pin at my shoulder is very loose in this sandy soil, and if it showers—! Good night.

P. S. Overheard in I company street, loud language. One disputant: “I keep my feet as clean as yours!” The other. “You do? I have washed mine twice since the beginning of the hike.” The first: “So have I, Monday and yesterday. You take care of your person and I’ll look after mine.”