Their
shoulders, and their tin cups, which hung from the haversacks,
rattled and jingled as they marched down in even columns of four,
over the wet and grassy slopes of the parade ground, where so
short a time before all had been glitter and sunshine.
I realized then perhaps for the first time what the uniform
really stood for; that every man who wore it, was going out to
fight - that they held their lives as nothing. The glitter was all
gone; nothing but sad reality remained.
The officers' wives and the soldiers' wives followed the troops
to the dock. The soldiers marched single file over the gang-plank
of the boat, the officers said good-bye, the shrill whistle of
the "General McPherson" sounded - and they were off. We leaned
back against the coal-sheds, and soldiers' and officers' wives
alike all wept together.
And now a season of gloom came upon us. The skies were dull and
murky and the rain poured down.
Our old friend Bailey, who was left behind on account of illness,
grew worse and finally his case was pronounced hopeless. His
death added to the deep gloom and sadness which enveloped us all.
A few of the soldiers who had staid on the Island to take care of
the post, carried poor Bailey to the boat, his casket wrapped in
the flag and followed by a little procession of women. I thought
I had never seen anything so sad.
The campaign lengthened out into months, but the California
winters are never very long, and before the troops came back the
hills looked their brightest green again. The campaign had ended
with no very serious losses to our troops and all was joyous
again, until another order took us from the sea-coast to the
interior once more.
CHAPTER XXIX
CHANGING STATION
It was the custom to change the stations of the different
companies of a regiment about every two years. So the autumn of
'82 found us on the way to Fort Halleck, a post in Nevada, but
differing vastly from the desolate MacDermit station. Fort
Halleck was only thirteen miles south of the Overland Railroad,
and lay near a spur of the Humboldt range. There were miles of
sage-brush between the railroad and the post, but the mountains
which rose abruptly five thousand feet on the far side, made a
magnificent background for the officers' quarters, which lay
nestled at the bottom of the foot-hills.
"Oh! what a lovely post!" I cried, as we drove in.
Major Sanford of the First Cavalry, with Captain Carr and
Lieutenant Oscar Brown, received us. "Dear me," I thought, "if
the First Cavalry is made up of such gallant men as these, the
old Eighth Infantry will have to look out for its laurels."
Mrs. Sanford and Mrs. Carr gave us a great welcome and vied with
each other in providing for our comfort, and we were soon
established.
