Kansas City journal. [volume] (Kansas City, Mo.) 1897-1928, 1899-04-10
A Soldiers Song.

H. /. Cleveland in the Chicago Times-Herald.
What does a soldier sing? The answer
depends very much on whether he is a reg
ular or volunteer. If he be regular, in
the majority of instances he will have on
his tongues end the latest ballad of the
variety stage. The more satirical the ballad
in its revelation of human weaknesses or
pathetic in its unfolding of simple affec-
lions the better pleased the regular will be.
He must have the sarcasm of the street or
the pathos of the cottage to be thoroughly
taken with his song
The volunteer soldier is not so far removed
from home influences that he can forget
the song that touches his heart in the
twilight. Of the day. Certain songs, certain
hymns, are common to all parts of the
nation. but every mans mother has had
some one melody he preferred to all others,
and sooner or later when at the front this
finds its way to his lips.
So 1t is told of General Chaffee that in
the charge at Ell Caney he came upon a
private deadly white but making his way
upward through the thicket, under fire,
and shouting at the top Of his voice:
How firm a foundation.
That is a very orthodox Presbyterian
hymn. Struck by the pallor of the man, the
general asked him why he sung. The an
swer came quickly:
L
darned scared it's all can hold on to-"
Nevertheless. he went on and into the
enemy's camp
The volunteer is fond Of ben Bolt"
no matter how ancient some foolish people
think it has become. When the transport
Seneca came northward from the fever.
beds of Santiago the volunteers, as she
swung out of the Atlantic and into Ameri-
can waters, sung the old tune with great
JUNCTION. not emitting to stamp hard upon
the decks when they repeated the line
She wept with delight when you gave her q smile
Even the sick men in the cabins added
their feeble pipe. while memory brought
back visions Of the old mill and the moss
covered wheel where waters were noisy no
more.
The American line was wavering at Ell
Caney. Unsupported by artillery, 1t seemed
impossible for the men to longer face the
terrific fire poured down upon them by the
enemy. On the extreme left there was
much confusion. Officers had lost track of
their commands, companies were charg-
ing olindly without leaders, and a slaughter
or rout was imminent.
The heat bore the men to the earth.
Bramble and bush tore their flesh. Thirst
of the most aggravated kind was upon
them. The mental anguish of the moment
was awful, for the foe was indiscernible.
Some good angel prompted an unknown
hero. perhaps an Indiana boy, mayhap
one from Michigan or New York, to shout:
The army and navy forever
Three cheers for the red. white and blue.
He did not have to supply the other
lines. The tfme-scarred song brought the
men to their senses. placed country above
physical danger and discomfort Lines
were reformed. the wavering line became
an advancing wall and never stopped until
defeat changed to victory.
At Montauk the different attachments of
the 14,0O0 troops brought there were much
scattered. One and two miles often divided
commands The different camps were set
on the crests or slopes of sandhills In
the cool Of some evenings. just after the
sunset gun. the silence which would fall
upon that spit of land jutting into the
ocean was oppressive.
On one such night last August after a
day of nerve-wearing heat, when the even
ing star could be seen family twinkling in
the west, sweet breeze swept over the
water up the baked sand cliffs and into the
camp of the Tenth Cavalry, colored.
The freshness of the new air, the promise
of rest from heat, moved the spirit of some
trooper. perhaps a negro of Virginia, and
of sudden he began to sing:
Down in the cornields close by the mill,
There lives a yaller girl. her is Nancy TILL.
Two or three other voices took it I'D as
he reached the chorus:
Come. love. come and go along with me.
And I'll take you down to Tennessee
The words went floating away up to Gem
eral Wheeler's headquarters. through the
hospital wards. over the little cemetery, in
to the space above the ocean. Other voices
caught up the half-mocking refrain:
Come. love. come.
Rough riders Joined in as they scurried
by on their lean horses. For the space of
a few minutes that venerable song of cot
ton field days, of ante-bellum joys, held
mastery of the great camp while its sweet
ness touched and bound hearts hungry for
the home days again.
The singer ceased. The echoes made sport
for but an instant, and sleep was upon