I have no doubt the dear girl was satisfied that her boy in blue would
suffer little, if any, for the want of something to keep his mind
occupied. As near as I can remember, the list of calls for each day's
programme--except Sunday, when we had general inspection and were kept
in line an hour or two extra--was as follows:
[Illustration: 0074]
The roll was called at reveille, drill, retreat and tattoo. The boys had
“words set to music” for nearly all the calls. The breakfast call was
rather inelegantly expressed when infantry and cavalry troops were
camped close together. The foot soldiers, not having horses to groom
and feed, had their breakfast the first thing after reveille. Then
they would stand around, and as the cavalry bugler-boys would sound the
breakfast call after stables, the heroes of the knapsack would chorus:
“Go and get your breakfast,
Breakfast without meat.”
But a cavalry poet tried his hand, and after that whenever the infantry
fellows shouted the above at us to the tune of breakfast call, we all
joined in the refrain:
“Dirty, dirty doughboy,
Dirty, dirty feet.”
That settled it. The doughboys soon fell back. If they had not, there
might have been a riot, for our poet was at work on another verse that
he said would settle their hash. Judging from the result of his first
effort, I can readily see that the infantry had a narrow escape.
We had inspection every Sunday morning after stables. Each company was
looked over by its first sergeant. Then the captains would appear and
take charge. If it were to be a regimental inspection, all the companies
would be marched to the parade-ground, and the colonel or regimental
commander would be the inspecting officer. Every now and then a brigade
review would follow the inspection. It was fun for the brigadier, or
inspector, but after the rear rank privates had been in the saddle two
hours or more, sitting bolt upright, with eyes fixed square to the front
while waiting to have the inspector come round to them, and go
through the motions of examining their carbines, revolvers, sabers and
equipments, the affair became tedious.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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