As chaplain of the Twenty-fifth Infantry, stationed with the headquarters of the regiment at Fort Missoula, where we had been for ten years, the call for the war met me in the midst of my preparations for Easter service. One young man, then Private Thomas C. Butler, who was practicing a difficult solo for the occasion, before the year closed became a Second Lieutenant, having distinguished himself in battle; the janitor, who cared for my singing books, and who was my chief school teacher, Private French Payne, always polite and everywhere efficient, met his death from a Spanish bullet while on the reserve before bloody El Caney. It was on a bright day during the latter part of March and near the close of the day as I was looking out of the front window of my quarters that I saw the trumpeter of the guard come out of the Adjutant's office with a dispatch in his hand and start on a brisk run toward the quarters of the Commanding Officer. I immediately divined what was in the wind, but kept quiet. In a few minutes "officers' call" was sounded, and all the officers of the post hastened to the administration building to learn the news. When all were assembled the Commanding Officer desired to know of each company officer how much time he would need to have his company ready to move from the post to go to a permanent station elsewhere, and from all officers how much time they would require to have their families ready to quit the station. The answers generally were that all could be ready within a week. It was finally agreed, however, to ask for ten days. Immediately the work of preparation began, although none knew where the regiment was to go. At this time the order, so far as it was understood at the garrison, was, that two companies were to go to Key West, Florida, and the other companies of the regiment to Dry Tortugas. One officer, Lieutenant V.A. Caldell, early saw through the haze and said: "It means that we will all eventually land in Cuba." While we were packing, rumors flew through the garrison, as indeed through the country, thick and fast, and our destination was changed three or four times a day. One hour we would be going to Key West, the next to St. Augustine, the next to Tortugas. In this confusion I asked an old frontier officer where he thought we would really go. Regarding himself as an indicator and always capable of seeing the amusing side of a subject, he replied: "I p'int toward Texas." Such was the state of uncertainty as to destination, and yet all the time the greatest activity prevailed in making ready for departure. Finally definite orders came that we were to store our furniture in the large gymnasium hall at the post and prepare to go in camp at Chickamauga Park, Georgia.