The National tribune., 1889-03-14
.SPEAKING0F PENSIONS
Bob Burdette States His Views and
Makes Suggestions.


gether and arrange this pension business on a
more uniform-say Grand Army uniform
and satisfactory basis2 So long as any of us
continue to survive the war-and those who
have neglected to survive it up to this time
will never be able to do so-the question Of
pensions will be an extremely interesting one.
The sooner we get the whole matter established
upon some definite basis the better eontented
will be the country, the Grand Army men and
the pensioners, thus embracing in one broad
field of satisfaction the great elements with
which we reformers have to contend.
You see in the present chaotic condition of
things, one occasionally meets man weighing
$50 pounds and doing the heavyweight bust
ness in a circus, who is drawing pension
equal to a salary at the ribbon counter; and
then again one meets a walking skeleton so
thin and weak that he can't even get freak"
engagement in the dime museum, who has no
pension at all, and doesn't seem to be able to
get ghost of chance to smell tho passing
favor of one. This also is vanity. Can't we
compromise the matter somehow, and average
the fat kline with the lean ones2 The only
trouble seems to be to get the man with the
pension to look at it in this light.
l would like, also, to suggest an arrangement
that would not be so much of strain upon the
feelings of the comrades who are expected to
remember, in minutest detail, the trivial events
or rather incidents, for they do not rise to the
dignity of events-that happened in the crowd
ing succession of comic and tragic incidents
and events % years or longer ago. Now / re-
ceive, as do most of you, no inconsiderable
number of letters from men who are applying
for pensions-good comrades, good soldiers
men who served well and brayely, and who
need and deserve pensions, who ask me if do
not remember with vivid dstinetness the time
they fell out of wagon, or the time steer
kicked them when we were on transport, or
the time when a cracker-box fell on them when
we were unloading commissary stores, or, as
one comrade wrote me only last week, to know
if I didn't remember the time we drew new
horses at st. Louis, when a Texas horse bit
me in the corral ?" I couldn't remember
that I don't think it ever happened, because
believe if a man was "bit in the corral" he
wouldn't live 10 minutes. That's worse than
the case of the man who was shot in the
fourth ward, and he died on the spot. Now,
as you all know, none of these letters
are manufactured; many Of you receive
just such appeals. You can remember when
a man had his head shot of, when and where
another man lost an arm or a leg; when
comrade was shot. as Nye says, " full of large,
irregular holes; you can recall all the TRACE
dies of those years; they are burned into your
memory. And you recall great many COM
edes of the times that tried mems patience.
Al,
can't recall all the little incidents. When
man got bucked from raw horse, or SHE'D
over the moon by green mule every time we
drew new animals you can't remember them
all. When men fairly rained out of wagons,
because the march was long and tie Wagon
master vigilant and cross you can't remember
every man you happened to see fired out. It's
all you can do to remember the Wagonmaster
who chucked you out. | was once haTshly and
rudely elected from an ammunition wagon
myself at time when was too exhausted to
have any physical contention with man who
had been riding mule with zebra legs all day.
Night had fallen on the long, long, weary
march, and slowly drifting to the rear by the
simple process of shortening step | soon heard
the welcome chuck chucking of the battery
wheels, and by and by, far-away snatches of
mutfied but earnest profanity told me. like her
aiding birds, that the wagon train was coming
along. l selected a dark, empty-looking wagon
that didn't seem to have half load, aud climb
ing over the tailgate swung my 1.-THE figure
airily in upon the .close-packed boxes of car
tridges. a sense of supreme comfort joted
over me as we pounded along the rough and
tortuous road. l feared | might fall asleep. To
avoid falling into this most unsoldierly fault,
stealthily lighted the stimulating pipe screen
ing the glare of the match under the cape of
my overcoat. The next instant the crash of
fearful explosion burst upon my terrified ears.
My worst fears were realized. 1t was the
Wagonmaster. He went of, but not uatil after
l was blown up. That man used language to
me that l wouldn't dare to repeat in good So
ciety. The terms of reproaeh which he used
in speaking directly to me, and the open dis
courtesy with which he characterized my con-
duct in unmeasured censure, were so indiscreet,
to say the least, that even the claybank mule
in the swing, or middle lead. albeit aceus-
toned to the society of Wagonmasters, fell down
in the mud with hollow groan. When at
last l regained my company told Lieut.. Law
dDOuU III anu 10 my surprise ne SeeIntu TO agree
with the WagOnmaster although, as was his
wont, he reproyed me very gently.
"My boy" he said, laying his hand in a
kindly manner upon my shoulder, "you knew
better than to do such a thing as that. Those
cartridges were loaded"
$50 was the Wagonmaster," murmured.
eyes," said the Lieutenant; that is his
| normal condition"
But 1 digress. We were speaking of PEN
sions. The comrade upon whom the box of
| bareback fell wrote me about the affair three
or four weeks ago. l did remember the occur
renee for it was very funny to everybody ex-
cept the unfortunate actor who played in the
| title role. 1t did hurt him, too, but not enough
to mark him off duty at the time longer than a
| day or two, and one of the days he was on sick
| list he borrowed mule without saying any
thing about it, rode into Memphis, about seven
miles distant, and apparently had good time,
| because when he got back to camp and the
| teamster raised a row about the mule, the sick
man, who seemed to be feeling as though his
folks were rich Hoped onto the astonished mule
whacker, and, with great iuency of expression
and easy gestures, swept broad and winding