That Little Old Post, Now Long Since Abandoned, Marked A Pleasant
Epoch In Our Life.
From the ranches scattered around we could
procure butter and squabs and young vegetables, and the soldiers
cultivated great garden patches, and our small dinners and
breakfasts live in delightful memory.
At the end of two years spent so pleasantly with the people of
the First Cavalry, our company was again ordered to Angel Island.
But a second very active campaign in Arizona and Mexico, against
Geronimo, took our soldiers away from us, and we passed through a
period of considerable anxiety. June of '86 saw the entire
regiment ordered to take station in Arizona once more.
We travelled to Tucson in a Pullman car. It was hot and
uninteresting. I had been at Tucson nine years before, for a few
hours, but the place seemed unfamiliar. I looked for the old
tavern; I saw only the railroad restaurant. We went in to take
breakfast, before driving out to the post of Fort Lowell, seven
miles away. Everything seemed changed. Iced cantaloupe was served
by a spick-span alert waiter; then, quail on toast. "Ice in
Arizona?" It was like a dream, and I remarked to Jack, "This
isn't the same Arizona we knew in '74," and then, "I don't
believe I like it as well, either; all this luxury doesn't seem
to belong to the place."
After a drive behind some smart mules, over a flat stretch of
seven miles, we arrived at Fort Lowell, a rather attractive post,
with a long line of officers' quarters, before which ran a level
road shaded by beautiful great trees.
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