by John McElroy
Produced by David Widger
SI KLEGG
THRU THE STONE RIVER CAMPAIGN AND IN WINTER QUARTERS AT MURFREESBORO.
By John Mcelroy
Book Two
PUBLISHED BY
THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE CO.,
WASHINGTON, D. C.
SECOND EDITION
COPYRIGHT 1910
Contents:
PREFACE
SI KLEGGCHAPTER I. THROUGH MUD AND MIRECHAPTER II. SECOND DAY'S MARCHCHAPTER III. STILL ON THE MARCHCHAPTER IV. THE SUNSHINE OF LIFECHAPTER V. LINING UP FOR BATTLECHAPTER VI. BATTLE OF STONE RIVERCHAPTER VII. AFTER THE FIRST DAYCHAPTER VIII. A GLOOMY NEW YEAR'S DAYCHAPTER IX. VICTORY AT LASTCHAPTER X. THE VICTORIOUS ARMYCHAPTER XI. WINTER QUARTERSCHAPTER XII. ADDING TO THEIR COMFORTCHAPTER XIII. "HOOSIER'S REST"CHAPTER XIV. DEACON KLEGG'S SURPRISECHAPTER XV. DEACON KLEGG'S ARRIVAL IS MISTAKENCHAPTER XVI. IN A NEW WORLDCHAPTER XVII. THE DEACON'S INITIATIONCHAPTER XVIII. THE DEACON IS SHOCKEDCHAPTER XIX. THE DEACON IS TROUBLEDCHAPTER XX. THE DEACON BUTTS INCHAPTER XXI. THE PERPLEXED DEACONCHAPTER XXII. TRYING TO EDUCATE ABRAHAM LINCOLN
PREFACE
"Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., and Shorty, his Partner," were born yearsago in the brain of John McElroy, Editor of THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE.
These sketches are the original ones published in THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE,revised and enlarged some what by the author. How true they are tonature every veteran can abundantly testify from his own service.Really, only the name of the regiment was invented. There is no doubtthat there were several men of the name of Josiah Klegg in theUnion Army, and who did valiant service for the Government. They hadexperiences akin to, if not identical with, those narrated here, andsubstantially every man who faithfully and bravely carried a musket indefense of the best Government on earth had some times, if not often,experiences of which those of Si Klegg are a strong reminder.
THE PUBLISHERS.
THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED
TO THE RANK AND FILE
OF THE GRANDEST ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR.
SI KLEOG
CHAPTER I. THROUGH MUD AND MIRE
DUTY'S PATH LEADS THE 200TH IND. SOUTHWARD FROM NASHVILLE.
"SHORTY" said Si Klegg, the morning after Christmas, 1862, as the 200thInd. sullenly plunged along through the mud and rain, over the roadsleading southward from Nashville, "they say that this is to be asure-enough battle and end the war."
"Your granny's night-cap they do," answered Shorty crossly, as he turnedhis cap around back ward to stop the icy current from chasing down hisbackbone. "How many thousand times 's that bin stuffed into your ears?This is the forty-thousandth mile we've marched to find that battle thatwas goin' to end the war. And I'll bet we'll march 40,000 more. Thiswar ain't goin' to end till we've scuffed the top off all the roadsin Kentucky and Tennessee, and wore out God's patience and all thesole-leather in the North. I believe it's the shoe-makers that's runnin'this war in the interest o' their business."
The cold, soaking rain had reduced the most of the 200th Ind. to a moodwhen they would have {16}disputed the Ten Commandments and quarreledwith their mothers.
"There's no use bein' crosser'n a saw-buck, if you are wet, Shorty,"said Si, walking to the side of the road and scraping off hisgenerous-sized brogans several pounds of stiff, red mud. "They say thisnew General with a Dutch name is a fighter from Wayback, an' he alwayslicks the rebels right out of their boots. I'm sure, I hope it's so. Ilike huntin' ez well ez anybody, an' I'll walk ez fur ez the next man tofind something to shoot. But I think walkin' over two States, backwardand forward, is altogether too much huntin' for so little shootin'.Don't you?"
"Don't worry," snapped Shorty. "You'll git all the shootin' you wantbefore your three years are up. It'll keep."
"But why keep it so long?" persisted Si. "If it can be done up in threemonths, an' we kin git back home, why dribble it out over three years?That ain't the way we do work back home on the Wabash."
"Confound back home on the Wabash," roared Shorty. "I don't hear nothin'else, day and night, but 'back home on the Wabash.' I've bin on theWabash, an' I don't want to never see the measly, muddy, agery ditchagin'. Why, they have the ager so bad out there that it shakes thebuttons off a man's clothes, the teeth out of his head, the horns offthe cows. An' as for milk-sickness."
"Shorty!" thundered Si, "stop right there. If you wasn't my pardner I'dfight you this minute. I kin join in jawin' about the officers an' the{17}Government. A great deal of your slack that I can't agree with I kinput up with, but you mustn't say nothin' against my home in the WabashValley. That I won't stand from no man. For fear that I may lose mytemper I'm goin' away from you till you're in better humor."
With that Si strode on ahead, feeling as cross and uncomfortableinternally as he was ill-at-ease externally. He hated above all thingsto quarrel with Shorty, but the Wabash Valley, that gardenspot of earth,that place where lived his parents, and sister, and Annabel but thesubject was too sore to think about.
Presently an Aid came galloping along the middle of the road, callingupon the men to make way for him. His horse's hoofs threw the mud inevery direction, and Si caught a heavy spatter directly in his face.
"Confound them snips of Aids," said he angrily, as he wiped the mudoff. "Put on more airs than if they was old Gen. Scott himself. Alwayspretend to be in such a powerful hurry. Everybody must hustle out oftheir way. I think that fool jest did that on purpose."
The rain kept pouring down with tormenting persistence. Wherever Silooked were drenched, de pressed-looking men; melancholy, steaminghorses; sodden, gloomy fields; yellow, rushing streams, and boundlessmud that thousands of passing feet were churning into the consistency ofbuilding-mortar.
Si had seen many rainy days since he had been in the army, but this wasthe first real Winter rain {18}he had been out in.
Jabe Belcher, the most disagreeable man in Co. Q, was just ahead of him.He stepped into a mudpuddle, slipped, threw the mud and water over Si,and his gun, which he flung in the effort to save himself, struck Si onthe shoulder.
THE AID SPATTERS MUD ON SI 18]
"Clumsy lunkhead!" roared Si, as ill-tempered now as anybody. "Couldn'tyou see that puddle and keep out of it? You'd walk right into theCumberland River if it was in front of you. Never saw such a bat-eyedlooney in my life."
"If the Captain wasn't lookin'," retorted Belcher, "I'd shut up both ofthem dead-mackerel eyes o' your'n, you backwoods yearlin'. I'll settlewith you after we git into camp. Your stripes won't save you."
"Never mind about my stripes, old Stringhalt. I kin take them off longenough to wallop you."
Si was in such a frame of mind that his usual open-eyedness was gone.The company was wading across a creek, and Si plunged in without athought. He stepped on a smooth stone, his feet went from under him andhe sat 'down hard and waist-deep in much the coldest water that he everremembered.
"O, Greenland's icy mountains," was all that he could think to say.
The other boys yelled:
"Come on to camp, Si. That's no place to sit down."
"Feet hurt, Si, and goin' to rest a little?"
"This your day for taking a bath, Si?"
"Thinks this is a political meetin', and he's to take the chair."
"Place Rest!"
"When I sit down, I prefer a log or a rail; but some men's different."
"See a big bass there, Si, an' try to ketch him by settin' down on him?"
"Git up, Si; git up, an' give your seat to some lady."
SI SAT DOWN HARD 20]
Si was too angry to notice their jibes. He felt around in the icy waterfor his gun, and clambered out on the bank. He first poured the waterout of his gun-barrel and wiped the
mud off. His next thought wasthe three days' rations he had drawn {20}that morning. He opened hishaversack, and poured out the water it had caught. With it went hissugar, coffee and salt. His hardtack was a pasty mess; his meat coveredwith sand and dirt. He turned the haversack inside out, and swashed itout in the stream.
Back came Capt. McGillicuddy, with water streaming from the down-turnedrim of his hat, and his humor bad. He was ignorant of Si's mishap.
"Corporal Klegg, what are you doing back here? Why aren't you in yourplace? I've been looking all around for you. The company wagon's stalledback somewhere. That spavin-brained teamster's at his old tricks. I wantyou to take five men off the rear of the company, go back and find thatwagon, and bring it up. Be smart about it."
"Captain," remonstrated Si, "I'm wetter'n a drowned rat!"
"Well, who in thunder ain't?" exploded the Captain. "Do I look as dryas a basket of chips? Am I walking around in a Panama and linen clothes?Did you expect to keep from getting your feet wet when you came into thearmy? I want none of your belly-aching or sore-toeing. You take five menand bring up that wagon in a hurry. Do you hear me?"
And the Captain splashed off through the red mud to make somebody elsestill more miserable.
Si picked up his wet gun from the rain-soaked sod, put it under hisstreaming overcoat, ordered the five drenched, dripping, dejected boysnear him to follow, and plunged back into the creek, which had by thistime risen above his knees. He was past the stage of anger now. Hesimply wished that he was dead and out of the whole business. A nice,dry grave on a sunny hillock in Posey County, with a good roof over itto keep out the rain, would be a welcome retreat.
In gloomy silence he and his squad plodded back through the eternal mudand the steady downpour, through the miry fields, through the swirlingyellow floods in the brooks and branches, in search of the laggardcompany wagon.{22}
Two or three miles back they came upon it, stuck fast in a deepmud-hole. The enraged teamster was pounding the mules over the head withthe butt of his blacksnake whip, not in the expectation of getting anyfurther effort out of them he knew better than that but as a relief tohis overcharged heart.
"Stop beatin' them mules over the head," shouted Si, as they came up.Not that he cared a fig about the mules, but that he wanted to "jump"somebody.
STOP BEATIN' THEM MULES' 22]
"Go to brimstone blazes, you freckle-faced Posey County refugee,"responded Groundhog, the teamster, in the same fraternal spirit. "I'mdrivin' this here team." He gave the nigh-swing mule a "welt" that wouldhave knocked down anything else than a swing mule.
"If you don't stop beatin' them mules, by thunder, I'll make you."
"Make's a good word," responded Groundhog, giving the off-swing mule awicked "biff." "I never see anything come out of Posey County that couldmake me do what I didn't want to."
Si struck at him awkwardly. He was so hampered by his weight of soggyclothes that there was little force or direction to his blow. The soakedteamster returned the blow with equal clumsiness.
The other boys came up and pulled them apart.
"We ain't no time for sich blamed nonsense," they growled. "We've gotto git this here wagon up to the company, an' we'll have the devil's owntime doin' it. Quit skylarkin' an' git to work."
They looked around for something with which to make pries. Every railand stick within a quarter of a mile of the road was gone. They had beenused up the previous Summer, when both armies had passed over the road.
There was nothing to do but plod off through mud and rain to the top ofa hill in the distance, where there was a fence still standing. Ahalf an hour later each of the six came back with a heavy rail on hisshoulder. They pried the wagon out and got it started, only to sinkagain in another quagmire a few hundred yards further on.
Si and the boys went back to get their rails, but found that they hadbeen carried off by another squad that had a wagon in trouble. There wasnothing to do but to make another toilsome journey to the fence for morerails.
After helping the wagon out they concluded it{24} would be wiser tocarry their rails with them a little way to see if they would be neededagain.
They were many times that afternoon. As dark ness came on Si, whohad the crowning virtue of hopefulness when he fully recognized theunutterable badness of things, tried to cheer the other boys up withassertions that they would soon get into camp, where they would findbright, warm fires with which to dry their clothes, and plenty of hotcoffee to thaw them out inside.
The quick-coming darkness added enormously to the misery of their work.For hours they struggled along the bottomless road, in the midst of aruck of played-out mules and unutterably tired, disgusted men, laboringas they were to get wagons ahead.
Finally they came up to their brigade, which had turned off the roadand gone into line-of-battle in an old cotton-field, where the mud wasdeeper, if possible, than in the road.
"Where's the 200th Ind.?" called out Si.
"Here, Si," Shorty's voice answered.
"Where's the fires, Shorty," asked Si, with sinking heart.
"Ain't allowed none," answered his partner gloomily. "There's a rebelbattery on that hill there, and they shoot every time a match islighted. What've you got there, a rail? By George, that's lucky! We'llhave something to keep us out of the mud."
They laid down the rail and sat upon it.
"Shorty," said Si, as he tried to arrange his aching bones to somecomfort on the rail, "I got mad at you for cussin' the Wabash thismorning. I ain't a fluid talker such as you are, an' I can't find wordsto say{25} what I think. But I jest wisht you would begin right hereand cuss everybody from Abe Lincoln down to Corporal Si Klegg, andeverything from the Wabash in Injianny down to the Cumberland inTennessee. I'd like to listen to you."
