The Guthrie daily leader. [volume] (Guthrie, Okla.) 1893-1996, 1902-01-27

THE DRUMMER.


the East l can see him now, with
his drum slung from his neck, his lit
tie figure drawn up to its full height,
proudly showing us how to make the
drum talk"
This is what we played at Mission
Ridge" And then he would begin
One heard the tramp OF marching
feet, the thunder of cannon, the rattle
of musketry, the shouts and hurrahs
of the men, and, above all, the rub-a-
dub-dub Of the drum. IL sent the cold
shivers down our backs the blood
jumping through our veins Then
came the slow and solemn be- OF the
muffled drum, the To- melancholy,
almost human, roll we knew that
the battle was ove and that the dead
were being laid away TO their last rest
The tears in our eyes, a choking in
our throats, and then
They dressed me up in soier clothes,
They treated me so kindly,
And yet never could forget tA
The girl l left behind me. s7
It was a sad day for the battery, and
particularly for Dumpey, when the
junior lieutenant left our post by
transfer. The very next day Dumpey
was in the guard house with charges
against him for drunkenness. Inter
cession proved of no avail-the captain
was determined to make an example Of
him-but the court was lenient; so
after a months confinement Dumpey
came back to us, but an altered man.
Not that his manner had changed to
ward us-he was still our friend-but
his boyishness and lightness Of heart
seemed gone.
Hell get me yet" was all he said
when we asked him the trouble. He,
OF course, meant the captain, who for
some unaccountable reason had TAX
a dislike to the lowly drummer Thing
went from bad to worse. Dumpey was
in the guardhouse continually first for
one thing and then another which,
though trivial enough in their way
we're repidly building up a bod reputa
ton for him, which he did not really
deserve.
The end came when they found him
drunk on guard. The general court
which tried him found him guilty and
sentenced him to be drummed out OF
the service. The colonel wrote to the
reviewing authority rather strongly in
his favor, but Dumpey was doomed.
Nothing could save him, and the
sentence was duly confirmed.
Never did sun shine brighter never
we're skies bluer, never was nature
more generous than on that dreadful
May morning We had all been to see
Dumpey at the guardhouse the night
before. We had shaken hands with him
and carried him such boyish gifts as
we could to assure him of our loyalty
and friendship, and he, poor old boy
had turned his face away from us and
wept like a child.
It was the first and only time ! had
ever seen a man drummed out Of the
service. / can never again see such
shocking sight Of mans inhumanity to
man.
First the drums and fifes, then two
9latoons of men fully armed and equip
ped, their bayonets flashing and spark
ling In the sunlight and between them
Dumpey, with head closely cropped
and on his back a board marked,
"Drunkard."
On they came. the drums and fifes
playing the "Rogues' March"
Poor old soldier. poor old soldier,
Tarr'd and feathered and then drum
md out
Because he couldn't keep sober.
Our hearts were in our throats, but
we cllnched cur hands and held our
places like men.
There was no music in the march.
II was simply wailing and sobbing
of the drums-the drums to drum
Dumpey out of the service; Dumpey,
their champion their hero, their king.
Just as they passed us We heard some
one ask
"What makes him walk so queer
He seems to be limping,
Every boy there could have told him
that 1t was the bullet he got at Mission
Ridge. which the doctors had never
been able to take out.
Tarr'd and feathered and then drum
md out
Al last they reached the sally port