Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1888-01-06

worst-to awaken you from your deep sum-
bers There are four Of these unprincipled
wretches, who, in consideration of a monthly
bride Of S13 apiece, consent to mako life mis-
cradle at this particular hour Of the day by
J destroying your morning nap. They puff
out their cheeks till they are red in the face
and the veins on their foreheads stand out
like cords from the exertion, and they pour
forth the brassy notes till the words set to
reveille by some sarcastic soldier go dancing
in your brain and won't be driven out, ut
terly destroying sleep and ultimately driving
You from your he'd at the unseemly hour of 5
in the morning.
ugles.-Allcgro.
| can't get EN- up,
| can't get 'em up,
can't get 'em up in the morning;
| can't get EN- up,
| can't get 'em up,
| can't get em up all daa-ayl
Reveille is succeeded by a profusion of
| calls at short intervals; there is mess call
| sum1noning the defenders of an effete civil
| cation to their morning coffee, bread and
meat; there is sick OF surgeons call, when
| the weak and ailing repair to the post hos
| pital for treatment by the post sawbones;
| there is stable call, at which the cavalry
Ol louis 10
| cavalry corral for the morning grooming
and feeding This sight, repeated each sue
| ceeding morning, fills the heart of the
| ''doughboy' foot soldier, who is exempt from
| such duty, with delight.
The water wagon, drawn by six mules ap-
pears, and the barrels standing at your door
| are filed with fine yellow solution of earth,
| popularity supposed to be water. We are
| quite primitive here; no elaborate system Ct
| water works is provided for us; the wagon is
| flied at the little stream that runs past the
! post, and is thence drawn directly to your
door. After standing twenty-four hours in
the barrels the sediment settles in a degree,
so that the water is quite available for wash
ing purposes But for drinking a system of
straining, boiling and iltering makes it none
too pure and clear. Still, such as it is, we
use it, and are thankful it's no worse
The hour for guard mounting has now
come. The regimental band is stationed
here, and very good band it is. With
out it existence would become still more
nearly unbearable than at present. It plays
each morning at guard mounting, has band
practice for an hour afterward, plays again at
retreat parade, favors us with concert
svery Sunday afternoon and furnishes music
for the hops gotten up weekly by the
restless subalterns After guard mounting
there is an informal gathering of the officers
of the command at the little one story adobe
digniied by the name Of the administration
building'-c of title for SO small
and unpretentious structure to stagger be-
meath. Here we find the colonel in command,
with the adjutant and the quartermaster Of
his regiment-two first iieItenants, selected
for their especial fitness for these positions of
responsibility. Here is the gray headed cap
tain Of the single infantry company at the
post-a man who entered the service before
you were out Of swaddling clothes, sir, and
who thinks his gray hairs entitled to con-
siderable respect for his long and most excel
lent service. Here, too, are both of his
Heutenapts, fiery youths, chatting because
promotion is SO deuced slow. Here. also, are
the three officers of the cavalry contingent,
gorgeous with uniformly large yellow Shout
der straps and broad yellow stripes. Their
aggressively flaring facings contrast glaring-
ly with the modest and unassuming blue and
white Of their infantry brethren.
Here an hour is passed, chatting Of the
events of the day, discussing orders, OF scan
ming the papers brought in by the soldier
mail carrier from the railway station nine
miles away. From the administration build
may have In store for them. The captains
go to inspect their company quarters and
kitchens; the leutenants, devoid of such re-
possibilities, saunter to their own quarters
or up the officers line to the coloneIs, where
| the ladies are gathered, and pass some little
time there in social chat.
All, however, retire to their own quarters
before the sun is very high in the heavens In
this hot southern climate nothing is done
through the day. The orderly has carried
the various orders over the post before 10
o'clock: the '.herd" of horses of the cavalry
! troop are down i'll the valley, where the trees
afford them welcome shade and the running
stream quenches their thirst the parade
ground, sparsely patched with clumps of
grass, presents steady, tiresome glare; the
garrison flag hangs Imply against the staff;
the very staff, leaning from the perpendicu-
lar, appears overcome by the extreme heat;
no sign Of life is visible, save for the lizards
darting about under the direct rays of the
SUI; it is insufferably, unspeakably hot.
Within DOORS in darkened rooms the holders
of this little post pass the hot, weary hours as
best they may Some read, some sleep; in
fact, beyond the attractions of the post suit
tiers card room and green covered table,
scarcely anything practicable remains but
reading and sleeping. The chief end of man
here seems to be to pass the hours of exile as
comfortably as possible; and SO we find the
necessarily small libraries of the reading of
ficers filed with the works Of standard au-
thors, whereby the tedium of these long, list
less hours may be beguiled.
So passes the day, till the frightening
shadows announce the approach of sunset.
The bugle sounds the call for dress parade
doors Of quarters are opened wide and from
them the ladies, in cool, fresh toilets, issue
forth to adorn the verandas and by their
presence lend grace to the scene. The officers
join their companies, tie short line of troops
is formed and the daily retreat parade, the
sole ''pomp and circumstance" in which our
little post INDUCES, proceeds smartly to a
close The parade closes the day: the bugle
sounds retreat, the flag is lowered and soon
in the swiftly gathering darkness may be
seen the forms of the sentinels walking their
solitary beats, keeping a wary lookout for
foes. hypothetical and actual
The sun has gone to rest behind the Jagged
western mountains that from their gray
heights look down upon us, and the risen
moon floods the scene with her silvery light
Alb the brilliant southern moonlight is be-
yond all compare. But bark! there's a bugle
strain in the air, rising to its highest note
and falling, dying away again in soft, long
drawn cadences. Involuntarily you hush to
listen. Taps. The last call of the day.
Those notes, SO often sounded mournfully on
arid plain and in dark rayine over tue lonely
grave of the fallen conlrade, now breathe a
farewell to day. Lights OUT and with the
last notes the windows of the long, low bar
racks become darkened. Silence broods DER
ell, and save for the watchful sentinel pacing
the confines of the post the garrison sleeps
Carl Breter in New York Times
In Uncle Sans Regular ARMY.
have been in the service of Uncle Sam for
just one month, and have five years and
eleven months yet to serve I wish [ was out
of it, but | have no one to blame for it but
myself. [ was broke on the town, and Sit
ting in peep o. day horse, expecting the
barkeeper would turn me out, when two SOL
diers came in. They wore the uniform of
privates, bnt their clothes fit them like dudes.
and, now that ! come to think Of it. were of
much better cloth than what I have got on.
They seemed to have plenty Of money. and
asked me 80 take a drink Then they got to
telling stories about the gay life the bows led
Ill the army-nothin2 to do, but plenty to