*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 67904 ***

                           THE “CITY GUARD”

                               A HISTORY

                                  OF

                              COMPANY “B”

                   FIRST REGIMENT INFANTRY, N. G. C.


                    DURING THE SACRAMENTO CAMPAIGN

                          JULY 3 TO 26, 1894


                               INCLUDING

         A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE COMPANY SINCE ITS ORGANIZATION
                    MARCH 31, 1854, TO JULY 3, 1894


                    FILMER-ROLLINS ELECTROTYPE CO.
             TYPOGRAPHERS, ELECTROTYPERS AND STEREOTYPERS
                    424 SANSOME ST., SAN FRANCISCO




        Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1895,
            By COMPANY B, “CITY GUARD,” 1st REG. N. G. C.,
      In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.




      _To the members of the “City Guard,” past, present, and to
              come, this, our Company’s maiden effort, is
                       respectfully dedicated._




CONTENTS.


  THE STRIKE IN CALIFORNIA.

          CHAPTER I.                                               PAGE
  The Cause,                                                          9

          CHAPTER II.
  The National Guard Called Out,                                     15

          CHAPTER III.
  Fourth of July at Sacramento,                                      29

          CHAPTER IV.
  Camp on the Capitol Grounds,                                       42

          CHAPTER V.
  The Vigilantes at the Capitol Grounds,                             68

          CHAPTER VI.
  General Effects of the Strike,                                     83

          CHAPTER VII.
  The Appearance of the Regulars and Its Effect Upon the Situation,  93

          CHAPTER VIII.
  The First Regiment at Ninth and D Streets,                        128

          CHAPTER IX.
  The American River Bridge,                                        156

          CHAPTER X.
  Off for Truckee.                                                  172


  A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE COMPANY.

          CHAPTER I.
  “San Francisco City Guard,”                                       219

          CHAPTER II.
  “Independent City Guard,”                                         224

          CHAPTER III.
  “City Guard” from 1860 to 1870,                                   229

          CHAPTER IV.
  From 1870 to 1880,                                                237

          CHAPTER V.
  From 1880 to 1894,                                                244

          CHAPTER VI.
  Forty-one Years’ Target Practice,                                 252




PREFACE.


On September 1, 1894, shortly after the return of the company from its
campaign at Sacramento, a committee of four was appointed, to be known
as the history committee, to gather as much material concerning that
campaign as possible, and to put it in a readable and concise form.
The following were appointed: Lieutenant George Filmer, Corporal A.
McCulloch, Privates W. J. Hayes and Wm. D. O’Brien.

The committee began its work enthusiastically and at once, as they
believed that the most beneficial results could be attained by
“striking while the iron is hot.” Their progress was necessarily slow;
but when taken in connection with the circumstances, that the committee
were engaged in earning their livelihood during the day, and thus
limited in their work upon the history to their spare moments, and
further, that they also took great care to prevent inaccuracies from
creeping into their labors, the progress made, when viewed in this
light, cannot be said to be unusually slow.

The idea of publishing a history was not an original idea, but rather
it is the result of the gradual development of an incipient idea by a
process of evolution containing three distinct steps. First it was only
intended to have a short account written of the campaign and pasted in
the company’s scrapbook; then, with this as a basis, the idea developed
into the form of a printed pamphlet, and finally blossomed into the
shape in which it now appears.

It was the intention of the committee to have the entire book set up
by members of the company who were compositors by trade, and who had
kindly volunteered their services. But, on account of the limited time
that the volunteer compositors could bestow upon the work, it was found
necessary, after about one-half the book had been thus set up, to give
the work to an outside publishing house, in order to present to the
company a complete history of the campaign before the memory of this
memorable event would be beyond the “time of which the mind of man
doth not run.” And even though the members of the company were unable,
through no fault of their own, to set up the entire work, the committee
desires to acknowledge its appreciation of the kindness and the
valuable assistance given by these members, viz: George Claussenius, W.
L. Overstreet, Wm. McKaig, J. Brien, and R. E. Wilson.

The committee further desires to thank Lieutenant Hosmer, Adjutant
First Battalion, First Regiment Infantry, N. G. C., and Sergeant H.
B. Sullivan, “of ours,” for the kind assistance they rendered the
committee in making negatives of each tent crowd of the company.

It may be well here to mention the fact that at the request of the
committee, Captain I. B. Cook consented to write the brief history of
the Company. For this work and the thoroughness with which it is done,
the committee extend to him its sincere thanks.

The committee do not pretend to uphold the book as a work of any great
literary merit; and, while they do not propose to offer any excuses for
the book, still they hope at least that it is free from any obvious
signs of crudity or provincialism: it stands upon its own merits.

The work is largely of a personal nature, and, as such, has made the
introduction of personalities unavoidable; but while this is so, the
committee have tried to eliminate every thing of such a character
which, in their judgment, would offend the most sensitive nature.
In case, however, their judgment has erred at times, and things do
appear which wound the feelings of some, the committee trust that the
attempted witticism, for it is nothing more, will be received in the
same spirit that it is offered, namely “peace, goodwill to all.”

In judging the results of their labor the committee beg that those
judging will say, in the words of Miss Muloch:

  “Not that they did ill or well,
  But only that they did their best.”

[Illustration: B COMPANY IN HEAVY MARCHING ORDER, SACRAMENTO, JULY,
1894.]




[Illustration: THE CAUSE (?)]

CHAPTER I.

THE STRIKE AND ITS EFFECT.


As the tiny stream that wends its course down the mountain slope on
the way to the sea grows gradually larger and deeper by the successive
uniting with it of similar streams until at last it becomes the mighty
river in which its identity is completely lost, so a small labor
movement springing up in a little town named Pullman in the vicinity of
Chicago, and spreading out westward and southward, became larger and
greater at each successive juncture with it of the employees of the
railroad until at last, when its progress was stopped by the cool waves
of the Pacific, it had grown to be a movement of gigantic proportions,
stupendous in its effects, in which the primal cause of the movement
was lost. California was particularly affected. Never before in the
history of the State had she experienced such a movement as this.
Traffic was completely stopped. Business was paralyzed. Goods could
neither be received nor sent away. Merchants were laying off their
employees and getting ready to close up their houses. Not a wheel of
the Southern Pacific Company was turning in the State.

This movement had its source in a disagreement between the managers
and the employees of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company. By
successive reductions the wages of the employees had become greatly
reduced, far below that which the existing condition of affairs would
seem to justify. This, considered with certain other circumstances,
caused a great deal of dissatisfaction among the men of the works.
The accompanying circumstances, which served to intensify the
dissatisfaction, were of a nature peculiar to the town of Pullman
itself. A fair estimate would place the inhabitants of this town at
about four thousand, all of whom are directly or indirectly dependent
for subsistence upon the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company. Not only
are they connected with the company by bond of employer and employee,
but also are they related as landlord and tenant, and as creditor and
debtor. Pullman has been nicknamed “the model town.” But there is more
than one way of looking at this model town, just as there is more
than one way of looking at a model jail. To a man like Carlyle, who
had no sympathy for transgressors of the law, a jail like the famous
Cherry Hill prison of Pennsylvania would be a model jail; for here
a prisoner is confined in a single cell for the entire term of his
confinement, with no other occupation than that of picking jute. But
to the prisoner himself who is incarcerated there, it is a model jail,
where he “who once enters leaves all hope behind.” So with the town of
Pullman. To the stockholders of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company,
who see in its organization innumerable opportunities for enriching
themselves at the expense of the workman, it is a model town. But to
the poor employees, who encounter at every turn the grasping hand of
the monopoly, it is a model town symbolical of all that characterizes
slavery. In the hands of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company resides
the entire property of the town. They not only own the water and gas
works, and the houses, but also sell to their employees the very
necessities of life. All the inhabitants of the town are tenants;
none are freeholders. From this it is easy to imagine the situation
when a large cut was made in the wages. The corporation, you may be
sure, never thought of making a corresponding reduction in the rent of
the houses, or in the water and gas rates, or in the price of food.
With greatly reduced wages, reduced to considerably less than what
the artisans engaged in similar crafts were getting in the adjacent
municipality of Chicago, and with rents and water, and gas rates
correspondingly higher, the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company expected
its employees to adjust themselves to the new condition of affairs. The
chasm, however, was altogether too wide to be bridged. The men were
compelled by the force of necessity to resist the reduction.

About the beginning of May, 1894, a committee of thirty-nine,
representing every department in the works, waited upon Mr. Pullman,
president of the company, and laid the case before him. They asked
that the old rates, which were one-third higher than the present
rates, be re-established. In spite of the fact, that at about the time
the committee waited upon Mr. Pullman the company was paying large
dividends, and had an enormous reserve fund, and further still, in
spite of the fact, that Mr. Pullman had enough of spare cash to donate
one hundred thousand dollars to a church, the petition was denied. The
plea given was, that the state of business would not stand the increase
of wages. The matter did not stop here. The car company was very
indignant at the apparent intrusion of the workmen into the affairs
of their business. How dare employees suggest to them how they shall
conduct their business. The outcome of it was, that the men who formed
the committee were individually discharged from their service. This
was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The entire body of workmen
struck. This was the direct strike.

A new element now enters into the strike. The employees of the
Pullman Car Manufacturing Company, as a body, were affiliated with an
organization known as the American Railway Union. The constitution
of this latter organization was of such an elastic character as to
be capable of being stretched so far as to include not only those
who worked for the railroad proper, but also all who were employed
upon any kind of railroad work whatsoever. The strike was referred
by the workmen of Pullman to this higher body for settlement. The
American Railway Union investigated the grievances of the men,
and concluded that the strike was a just one; one worthy of their
support. On June 23d, after having tried for a period of six weeks to
adjust the difficulties between the men and their employers without
success, the Executive Board of the Union gave notice to the Pullman
Car Manufacturing Company, that, unless they agreed to the terms of
settlement by the 27th of June, a boycott would be placed upon all
Pullman cars. In other words the members of the union would refuse
to handle any trains to which were attached Pullman cars. The 27th
of June coming around with no signs of compliance on the part of the
Pullman Company the threat of the union was put into execution. The
entire Santa Fé System, comprising about seventeen different lines
and operating throughout that part of the country southward of Chicago
to the Gulf and westward to the Pacific, was affected. This new phase
of the strike, known as the sympathetic strike, was destined to be the
greatest labor movement that America had ever experienced.

This is the method by which the American Railway Union undertook to
bring the Pullman corporation to terms. In their letter to the public
they stated that it was not their intention to tie up the railroads.
They were willing to handle trains, provided Pullman cars were left
off. This was, they said, the only means they had of striking the
Pullman Car Manufacturing Company. In case a quarrel arose between
them and the railroad companies it would be a quarrel that was forced
upon them, and not one of their choosing. The railroad companies,
on the other hand, were unable to separate their interests from the
interests of the Pullman Car Manufacturing Company, so they took the
quarrel upon their own shoulders. They were determined to send trains
out with Pullman cars attached, or else they would not send any at all.
On the 27th of June, the day that the boycott was placed upon Pullman
cars, traffic over the entire Santa Fé system came to a standstill.
The railroad employees, that is, those employees who were engaged in
the strike--the firemen, switchtenders and switchmen--refused to move
trains with Pullman cars attached, and the railroad companies refused
to send out trains without them. And so began the sympathetic strike.

Every State, in which the lines of the above-mentioned system operated,
was severely affected. In the East the unique position held by Chicago
with regard to the different lines of railroads made it the hotbed of
the strike. Seventeen different lines meet in Chicago. These being tied
up, Chicago became the congregating point for many thousand strikers,
some of whom were exceedingly desperate characters. Chicago, in the
course of the strike, was the scene of many aggressive operations,
and numerous were the conflicts between the troops and strikers, of
which some resulted in fatalities. In the West the strike presented
some features which were not manifested in the East. No State suffered
more severely from the strike than did California. That the effect
was so severe on California was due probably to its isolation; to its
entire dependence upon railroad transportation, and to the fact that
a great part of its produce consisted of fruit, which has to find
a ready market in the East. These facts, coupled with the fact that
the tie-up came at that time in the year when the fruit was ripe and
ready for shipping, and thus dependant upon rapid transportation for
its value, are evidence enough of the injurious effects of the strike
upon California. And yet, in spite of the ruinous consequences, it is
strange to say that the sympathy of the people was almost unanimously
with the strikers. The press of California has been severely criticised
by the Eastern press for the manner in which it espoused the cause of
the strikers. Yet the California press was only reflecting the opinions
of the people.

The first scene of act one of the strike in California took place on
the 27th of June. The overland trains, which are the only trains that
carry Pullman cars with the exception of the Yosemite, did not leave
the Oakland mole that day as usual. Throughout the 27th and part of the
28th all other trains ran as usual. But on the 28th President Debs of
the American Railway Union telegraphed from Chicago to the heads of the
local unions to tie up the entire Southern Pacific Company. The strike
now began to operate in California with full force.

In such railroad centers of California as Los Angeles, Oakland, and
Sacramento the strike assumed threatening aspects. In Sacramento the
aspect was particularly alarming. Los Angeles and Sacramento are
the two controlling centers for all lines that leave the State. The
strike in neither Los Angeles nor Oakland reached the importance or
received the attention that it did in Sacramento. This was due to
the fact that in Los Angeles it was brought under control before it
gained much headway. While in Oakland, though Oakland was invested by
a large number of strikers who managed to do a good deal of mischief
and damage, such as cutting the air-brakes on freight trains, and even
going so far as to stop the entire local system, thus compelling the
residents of the bay towns to resort to a provisional ferry; yet even
while they did all this, it made little practical difference to the
outcome of the strike whether the strikers reigned there or not as long
as Sacramento or Los Angeles remained under their control. Sacramento
and Los Angeles therefore were the backbone of the strike in California.

As the time wore on a peaceful settlement of the strike seemed to
grow less. The railroad company, on the one hand, was determined not
to yield. The strikers, on the other hand, were getting impatient
and angry at the rigidness of the railroad officials, and with this,
growing more conscious of their power, seemed ready to set aside all
legal restraints and resort to violent deeds to force an acquiescence
to their will. Sacramento, where the strikers held forth in full sway,
was the point toward which the attention of the people was directed.
Speculation became rife as to what would be the outcome. That things
could not continue in such a state much longer was universally
conceded. The seriousness of the affair, however, kept rolling on.
Complaints of people tied up at the different places in the State
were increasing every day. Baggage and freight was accumulating with
wondrous rapidity. Delayed mail--and here is where the strikers came
in conflict with Uncle Sam--was piling up on every hand. It was only a
question of time when the dam would break.

It was on June 29th that the first rumors were heard about calling out
the State troops. A situation like this cannot fail to be other than
closely related to the life of the National Guard. While California had
been hitherto practically free from movements of this kind the Eastern
States had not been so fortunate. It seems next to an impossibility for
a railroad strike of any size to occur without its being accompanied
by violence and crime. Time after time had the Eastern National Guard
been called out to suppress strikers, who had finally deteriorated into
rioters. The one seemed to follow the other as effect follows cause.
As soon as a strike was inaugurated the people of the East looked for
the effect, namely the calling out of the National Guard. This mode of
thinking influenced the thought of California. The people now began
to look to the State troops. The members of the National Guard were
especially interested in the situation, for when they joined they
little thought that they would be called upon to face any real danger.
A sham battle at camp was about as near as they ever expected to get
to an actual engagement. But as things began to look serious, their
interest in affairs grew in intensity. “Great Heavens! we might be
called out.” So they anxiously awaited further developments.




[Illustration]

CHAPTER II.

THE NATIONAL GUARD CALLED OUT.


On July 1st Uncle Sam took a hand in the game. Attorney General
Olney sent instruction to the United States district marshals, whose
jurisdiction was over that territory affected by the strike, to execute
the process of the court, and prevent any hinderance to the free
circulation of the mails. In accordance with these orders the United
States marshal of the Southern District of California called upon
General Ruger, commander of the western division of the Regular Army
to furnish assistance at Los Angeles. Six companies, three hundred
and twenty men, under the command of Colonel Shafter, were dispatched
on July 2d for this place. They left San Francisco on the 10:30 P. M.
train. To act in conjunction with the Regular Troops, Barry Baldwin,
United States Marshal for the Northern District of California was at
Sacramento with a large number of deputy United States marshals, sworn
in for the occasion. The plan was to break, almost simultaneously,
the blockade at these two places. The regulars experienced but little
difficulty at Los Angeles. Not so, however, with the United States
marshal and his deputies at Sacramento. The mob of strikers here was
larger, more desperate, and better organized than at any other place
in the State. On the afternoon of the 3d of July Baldwin attempted to
open up the blockade. The operation of making-up the trains was calmly
watched by the strikers. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, when
all of a sudden at a given signal the strikers rushed forward, and in a
few minutes demolished what had been the result of several hours labor.
At this the wrath of Marshal Baldwin knew no bounds. He attempted to
force his way through the strikers, but was thrown several times to
the ground. Regaining his feet after one of these falls he drew a
revolver; but, before he could use it, he was seized and disarmed, and,
were it not for the presence there of some cool heads, would have been
severely handled. The marshal seeing the hopelessness of the situation
withdrew, leaving the depot in possession of the strikers. That very
afternoon, however, he called upon Governor Markham for military
assistance to aid him in forcing and maintaining a free passage for the
mails. In response to this call Major General Dimond of the National
Guard of California was ordered to furnish the necessary assistance,
using his discretion as to the number of men required. It was deemed
advisable to call out a large force, as the experience of the Eastern
militia in strike troubles showed that the display of a large force
had a salutary effect. The following troops were ordered out: Of the
Second Brigade, commanded by Brigadier General Dickinson, the First
Regiment Infantry, under the command of Colonel Sullivan, the Third
Regiment Infantry, Colonel Barry commanding; one-half of the Signal
Corps, under the command of Captain Hanks, and a section of the Light
Battery, consisting of Lieutenant Holcombe, twelve men and a Gatling
gun; of the Third Brigade, Companies A and B of the Sixth Regiment,
under the command of Colonel Nunan; of the Fourth Brigade, commanded
by Brigadier General Sheehan, Companies A, E, and G; of the Second
Infantry Regiment, Colonel Guthrie commanding, the Signal Corps and
Light Battery B. In all about one thousand men. The following troops
were ordered to hold themselves in readiness: The Fifth Regiment
Infantry, Colonel Fairbanks commanding, consisting of two companies in
Oakland, one in Alameda, one in San Rafael, one in Petaluma, one in
Santa Rosa, and one in San Jose; the Second Artillery Regiment, Colonel
Macdonald commanding, and the First Troop Cavalry, commanded by Captain
Blumenberg. The San Francisco troops were ordered to be ready to leave
that evening. Companies A and B of Stockton, under command of Colonel
Nunan, were ordered to be ready to join the San Francisco troops as
they passed through Stockton the following morning. The Sacramento
troops were to join the main body upon their arrival at the Capital
City.

Colonel Sullivan received orders to assemble his troops at about
5:35 P. M. Colonel Barry was notified a little later. Both proceeded
immediately to carry out their orders. The calling out of the troops
had been anticipated by the officers of the National Guard. On Monday
evening, July 2d, Colonel Sullivan called a meeting of the company
commanding officers and arranged with them a plan that would insure the
effective and rapid massing of the troops. The plan was this: The roll
of each company was to be divided up into squads and a non-commissioned
officer assigned to each squad, whose duty it would be, in case it
became necessary, to see that the members of that squad were notified.
Experience proved that the plan was exceedingly effective. Captain Cook
lost no time in applying it to Company B. On the very same night he
assembled the non-commissioned officers of the company, and assigned a
squad of the company to each. Further, each non-commissioned officer,
for the purpose of expediency, was given the following pre-emptory
order:

 “SAN FRANCISCO, JULY 3d, 1894.

 “COMPANY ORDERS NO. 8.

 “You are hereby commanded to report at your armory immediately in
 service uniform upon reading this order. Bring your blankets, suit of
 underclothing, and two days’ rations to pack in your knapsack. Report
 without fail. Let B Company be the first in line for suppressing riot.

 IRVING B. COOK, Commanding Company.”

This was the plan by which the company was to be massed at short notice
When the time came to test its effectiveness it had been so well
applied to the company that it was like pressing the button and the
entire machinery started in motion. Within an incredible short space
of time after Captain Cook received orders to assemble his company,
non-commissioned officers in charge of squads were speeding on their
respective missions of notification. Many members, hearing that the
militia were called out, reported without receiving any official
notice. Company B was not the only company, nor was the First Regiment
the only regiment, that had taken time by the forelock and laid plans
for the rapid massing of their men. Subsequent developments showed
that arrangements had been made beforehand in all the companies of
both regiments and that these arrangements had well fulfilled their end.

Thus far we have but considered one end of the action. Let us therefore
transfer ourselves to the other end, namely the thresholds of the homes
of the members. Here scenes occurred the memory and influence of which
will never be forgotten. What a feeling of gloom and of sadness settled
upon that household after the notifying officer had hurried up the
steps, rang violently the door-bell and notified him, who was both a
member of the family and a member of the National Guard, to report for
duty at the armory. We may now talk lightly of the things we have done.
We may now laugh heartily over the experiences of those campaigns.
The public may sneer at the results which we have accomplished, but
who could say on the night we were called out that the duty which we
were ordered to perform was not such that we had no assurance of ever
returning again to the bosom of our families. Is there a man who would
speak lightly of the tear that glistened in the mother’s eye or the
quivering of her lips? Who is there that would ridicule the sobbing of
the sisters and of the wives, or sneer at the deep, heartfelt emotion
of the father hidden beneath a gruff voice. Shame on him who has for
these no thought but scorn! “Parting is such sweet sorrow,” the poet
sings. Until the night of the 3d few of us however recognized this
truth. Parting is sorrow, but ah! how sweet it is to know something of
that great affection with which we are held. Thank God there come such
times as these when the mist of humdrum life is lifted and we behold
our position in the hearts of our family.

Many of us still remember how, while in our boyhood days, our souls
used to thrill and how inspired we were when we read that after the
battle of Lexington, old Israel Putnam left his plow yoked in the
fields, mounted his fastest horse, hurried to Boston and offered his
services to his country. But when we left those happy days behind us
and went out into the cold, prosaic, and selfish world, and thought
of Putnam’s noble and inspiring patriotism, a feeling of regret would
arise within us to feel that there were no more Putnams. But during
the late excitement we were undeceived. Right here among us we have
such patriots. Patriots whose example ought to inspire and thrill every
citizen. Like Old Putnam, they also paused in the midst of their toil
and, without waiting to be notified, hastened to offer their services
to their State. Would that the grave could open up, so that Old Putnam
might rest contented in the belief that the destinies of this Republic
are presided over by young patriots worthy of their revolutionary sires.

To come back to the First Regiment Armory again. Throughout the evening
it presented both inside and out an animated appearance. Fully five
hundred people were gathered in front of the armory watching the course
of developments. Inside of the armory men were hastening to and fro.
Others were gathered into groups talking in an excited tone over the
unusual event. In Company B’s rooms members were busily packing their
knapsacks, rolling their blankets, and getting into their uniforms.
Every now and again some member who was notified late in the evening
would come running in and endeavor to make up for lost time. The
experience of being called out was to them a novel one. Whoever thought
that they--the National Guard, the “tin soldiers”--would ever be
called upon to do anything more arduous or dangerous than to parade
the streets on a holiday for the sake of eliciting admiration from the
fair sex. Here was an opportunity for them of a lifetime to dissolve
forever the charge of the contemptuous wretch, who stands upon the edge
of the sidewalk during a parade of the National Guard and sneeringly
remarks: “If they only smelt powder, how they would run.” Every member
of the Guard determined that they would on this occasion establish a
reputation far beyond the possibility of ever being open to the charge
of being “sidewalk soldiers” again. They would--and many a noble
resolve was made that night. To those standing upon the street watching
the preparations of the militia to depart and who derisively jeered,
the men said nothing, but to themselves said: “You just wait a few days
my fine fellows and we will show you what we can do.” But alas, who
can ever tell what the wheels of time will bring forth. At the same
time everyone was more or less excited. Some were gay, others were
thoughtful, and again some probably felt a peculiar sadness, feeling
perhaps as though they were taking their last leave of those persons
and things which were closely associated with their lives. Even the
turning of the key of their locker was done with tenderness. For who
knew that this would not be the last time. All, however, were ready for
orders.

At 9:40 P. M. the command was given to “fall in.” Company B proceeded
to the drill-hall, where they were formed by First Sergeant A. F. Ramm.
On roll-call the following men answered to their names:

  Captain I. B. Cook.
  1st Lieut. E. C. Lundquist
  2d Lieut. Geo. Filmer.
  1st Sergt. A. F. Ramm.
  Sergt. B. B. Sturdivant,
    ”    A. H. Clifford,
    ”    W. N. Kelly.
  Corp. J. N. Wilson,
    ”   B. E. Burdick,
    ”   E. R. Burtis,
    ”   A. McCulloch.
  Musician Gilkyson,
    ”      Murphy,
    ”      Rupp,
    ”      Wilson.
  Private Adams,
    ”     Bannan,
    ”     Baumgartner,
    ”     Claussenius, G.,
    ”     Claussenius, M.,
    ”     Crowley,
    ”     Flanagan,
    ”     Frech,
    ”     Fetz, A.,
    ”     Gille,
    ”     Gehret, A. C,
    ”     Hayes,
    ”     Heeth, A.,
    ”     Heizman,
    ”     Kennedy,
    ”     Keane,
    ”     Lang,
    ”     Monahan,
    ”     McKaig,
    ”     O’Brien,
    ”     Overstreet,
    ”     Perry,
    ”     Powleson,
    ”     Radke, R.,
    ”     Radke, G.,
    ”     Sullivan, H. B.
    ”     Stealy,
    ”     Sieberst, V.
    ”     Shula, F.,
    ”     Sindler,
    ”     Tooker,
    ”     Unger,
    ”     Wise,
    ”     Wilson, R. E.,
    ”     Williams,
    ”     Warren,
    ”     Wear,
    ”     Zimmerman.

Upon the completion of the roll-call the company was turned over to
the command of Captain Cook. In five minutes the entire regiment was
mustered and formed in a hollow square. The size of the companies
spoke volumes for the reputation of the regiment. It was now a little
over three hours since the non-commissioned officers started on their
tours of notification, and probably not more than an hour since some of
the members were notified; still, here was almost the full regiment,
thirty officers and three hundred and forty-six men, prepared to march.
The zeal and alacrity with which the orders were obeyed is worthy of
commendation. The men as they stood in ranks, attired in their campaign
uniforms, their knapsacks and blankets strapped to their backs,
presented a striking appearance. May their appearance that night never
fade from our memories. Colonel Sullivan stepped into the center of the
square and made the following remarks:

“Men, we have been ordered to Sacramento to preserve the peace and
dignity of the State. This is not a picnic trip; it is a serious duty.
I have confidence that every man will do his full duty. I hope that our
members will impress the enemy with the fact that we mean business,
and I hope that no other recourse will be necessary. But if it becomes
necessary to give orders to use ball and cartridge you must do it. You
must remember that your own lives are at stake, and you will fire low,
and fire to kill. These are hard words, but they are necessary words. I
hope that we will return with the full number assembled here, and with
honor and credit to the regiment. Fours right!”

Each company executed the necessary movement, and marched out of the
armory. The march was continued uninterrupted down Market street until
Spear street was reached. Here a halt was made, and ammunition served
out to the troops--twenty rounds to each man. The ammunition being
distributed, the regiment marched upon the steamer _Oakland_, where
they were joined shortly by the Third Regiment Infantry of twenty-six
officers and two hundred and fifty-one men, and at ten minutes past
eleven o’clock the troops bade farewell to San Francisco, and started
for their destination.

The farewell reception the troops received from the public on their way
down Market street, and while at the ferry, was one of a very mixed
nature. Among the persons gathered to see us take our departure were
a large number of men endowed with socialistic tendencies, whose view
of the situation was so narrow that they viewed the calling out of the
militia as an act of the Government’s to abet the railroad company in
oppressing its employees, and not as an act necessary to maintain the
laws of the land which guarantee to all equal rights in the protection
of their property. These men jeered and cast all sorts of slurs at the
men as they marched along. They sincerely wished that the strikers
would give the troops their quietus. This was one extreme. The other
extreme was made up of men of equally as narrow a view. These seemed to
think that the workman had no rights whatever, and above all things,
not even a shadow of a right to strike. They believed, or, if they did
not believe it, they certainly acted as if such were their belief,
that the workingman should submit to all restrictions placed upon
him, and that, if he attempted to rise above his conditions, then the
Government should force him back again. These are the men who called
upon us to blow the scoundrels to pieces. Between these two extremes
there was a third element, made up of men who had a true insight into
the condition of affairs: men who fully recognized the place that
strikes hold in the development of the human race; men who detect in
these visible presentations of discontent the conscious awakening of
the workingman to a noble conception of his place in the history of
civilization. It was from this stamp of men that the militia received
its real encouragement; for they saw plainly that the ends of the
workingman could not be attained through the disregard of the laws, but
it was only by his developing with them and through them that he could
even reach his true plane. Therefore, above all things, they desired to
see the supremacy of the laws maintained. Viewing the calling forth of
the militia as an instrument by which this was to be accomplished, they
cheered and urged the troops to do that duty they had sworn to fulfill.

Upon the steamer _Oakland_ reaching the other side the troops
disembarked and marched up the mole. They were wheeled into line and
halted. The command “Rest” was then given. Here the first of a series
of provoking delays took place. The trains, which were to bear the
troops to their destination were not fully made up; consequently the
troops had to remain standing, at the time they most needed rest,
upon the cold asphaltum for fully an hour. This does not speak well
for those who were managing the transportation of the troops. It was
extremely aggravating to the men, fatigued as they were after their
march down Market street laden with baggage, to feel that, had a
little foresight been exercised, they, instead of being compelled to
stand upon the pavement for over an hour, might have passed that time
in resting. A soldier, even though he is of the rank and file, is a
human being, and needs as much rest as any other human being. At 1 A.
M., July 4th, the troops were ordered aboard the train, and a start
was made for Sacramento. The train was divided into two sections.
The First Regiment was on board the first section, while the Third
Regiment, together with the section of the Light Battery, occupied the
second, and which followed after the first at about an interval of ten
minutes. Major General Dimond and staff accompanied the troops, and
took passage on the second section. Brigadier General Dickinson and
staff journeyed on the first section.

Each company had a separate car assigned to them. The members of
Company B lost no time in relieving themselves of their knapsacks and
blankets. Some of the men made up berths at once with the intention of
getting as much rest and under as favorable conditions as possible.
Others however thought it a waste of time to go to all this trouble
for what they supposed would be but a few hours rest; so they simply
stretched their legs upon the opposite seat and thus went to sleep.
Here was another mistake. How much better it would have been had the
men been informed that instead of a three hours’ journey before them
they would be on the road eight or nine hours. The men then would have
made due preparations for a good night’s rest. The Keeley Club, of
which more will be related hereafter, appropriated a section of the
sleeper to themselves, and, not knowing but what the days of some of
them were numbered, proceeded to have a good time while they yet lived,
for they knew that if any of their number did fall in the conflict
with the strikers, that they would be a long time dead. All the early
hours of the morning sounds of revelry could be heard coming from their
apartment. Every now and again some tired individual, whose repose
was broken by these revelers, would impatiently demand in language
more forcible and expressive than can be represented here why it was
they could not keep still. Ever and anon Captain Cook’s voice would
be distinguished above the dim. “That will do now, let us have more
quiet.” The effect of these commands was but temporary. A moment later
they were at it again. And so passed the morning.

Precautions were taken to attract the least amount of attention
possible. The window-shades were drawn so as to prevent the gleam of
lights from tempting missiles from the strikers. In spite of these
precautions, just after the train passed Sixteenth Street Station, a
rock was hurled through the window of the cab of the second section
narrowly missing the head of the engineer. Before the First Regiment
left the armory, details were selected from each company to act as
train guards, and placed under the command of Lieut. Thompson of
Company G. Their special duty was to guard the engine. Company B,
Third Infantry, Captain Kennedy commanding, was detailed as train guard
for the second section. Besides these guards sentinels were posted by
the First Sergeants of each company at both ends of the cars. These
men were stationed upon the platforms and relieved every hour. Their
orders were of a twofold nature: First, they were to prevent anyone
from leaving the car; Secondly, they were to alight whenever the train
stopped and see that no one interfered in any way with it. Any person
they saw approaching the train they were to call upon to “halt.” If the
order was not obeyed they were to warn him, and finally if this proved
ineffectual they were to fire upon him. Each sentinel loaded his piece
as he went on duty. No sentinel had occasion to carry out literally
his orders as the journey to Sacramento was practically uneventual. At
Sixteenth street, Oakland, the train was delayed for a short time. Here
it was found that the Block switch system would not work, the pipes
containing the wires having been cut, thus rendering the entire system
useless. The nature of the damage having been ascertained, the train
proceeded on its way.

When the train stopped at Sixteenth Street Station the sentinels
alighted in pursuance of their orders. There were a considerable number
of people gathered at this place. Here it was that an unknown person,
who was evidently a striker bent on mischief, but who claimed to be
a deputy marshal, was given an opportunity of measuring the caliber
of the men of the “City Guard” and of the National Guard in general.
This person emerged from the crowd and was approaching the train, when
Private George Claussenius, noticing him, called upon him to halt. The
fellow, not a bit disturbed merely said: “Oh, that’s all right, I’m
a deputy marshal.” This explanation might have been accepted in some
quarters, but this time he knocked upon the wrong door. Claussenius
quickly threw up his rifle, and forcibly said, “I don’t care who you
are; Halt!” The man paused, undecided whether to advance or retreat.
Lieut. Lundquist, who was standing upon the platform, took in the
situation. “Claussenius,” he quietly said, “if that man advances a
step further shoot him.” In an instant the man’s indecision vanished.
He turned and slunk back into the crowd. The man’s identity was never
ascertained. If he was a striker the reception he received was a proper
one; and if he was a deputy marshal he can thank his stars that his
departure was not accelerated by the prod of a bayonet. These men,
recruited in many instances from the scum of mankind gave themselves
the airs of a Lucifer. But before the campaign was over more than one
of them was taken down a peg or two by the different members of the
National Guard.

At Tracy Private O’Brien had an amusing experience with a rustic. It
was early in the morning. The sun had just begun to trace his westward
course in the heavens. The fields, with one exception, seemed deserted,
as far as the eye could stretch. The air held a deep stillness which
was broken only by the sweet singing of the birds and disagreeable
snoring of the soldiers. It was a beautiful opening of a Fourth of July
morning. Crossing one of the fields at this time was a country rustic
who, upon seeing the train, had his curiosity aroused; so, changing his
direction, he advanced toward it. It so happened he approached the car
that O’Brien was guarding. What a queer specimen! He was attired as the
rustic is generally represented upon the stage. His trousers were drawn
up almost to his neck by an abbreviated pair of suspenders. His head
was covered by a well-battered straw hat, and his feet incased--O’Brien
swears that they were number 14--in a cowhide pair of boots. O’Brien
amusingly sized him up until he arrived within about four feet from the
car, then suddenly stepping forward he brought his piece with a snap
to the “charge bayonet,” and cried out sharply “halt.” Astonished at
the unexpected sally, the rustic started involuntarily backward and
exclaimed, “Why the gol darn thing’s got stickers on ’em.” A visible
representation of the stickers was enough for the countryman. He did
not approach closer.

The men as they awoke into consciousness that morning, but little
refreshed by their short repose, were surprised to find that Sacramento
was still a considerable distance off. It seems that those who were
engineering the transportation of the troops thought it would be safer
to proceed to the capital by way of Stockton, instead of going direct.
The men now began to realize what a bitter teacher experience is. In
their excitement and bustle over being called out, and also on account
of the pretty general opinion that existed among the men that the
service we were to perform would not last more than a day or two at
the most, many of the men paid little attention to the order telling
them to bring rations and underclothing. As the morning gradually
advanced unto noon their stomachs began to remind them that it was time
to eat. They were ready to eat; but what? That was what troubled them.
Fortunately the company is possessed of some far-sighted minds when the
subject under consideration is the stomach. These men had brought with
them a good supply of food. But even when these divided their supply in
true Samaritan style, the quantity given to those that did not bring
food was so small that it alleviated but slightly the pangs of hunger.
Company B suffered less in this respect than did the other companies.
A large number of B’s men love their stomach too well to run the
smallest chance of having it suffer. Future developments will disclose
what dreadful effects the misusing of their beloved organ had upon the
men. The hungry mortals looked forward longingly for their arrival at
Sacramento. For here surely they would be adequately supplied. But
they were doomed to disappointment. Adjutant General Allen worked upon
this hypothesis, that if the men did not bring the rations he ordered
them to, they themselves were to blame and must therefore suffer the
consequences. But how foolish is such reasoning. What if the men are to
blame? Is it not the duty of a general to see that his men receive the
proper subsistence. It is indeed a poor commander who hopes for success
and at the same time allows his men to suffer hunger in the midst of
plenty. Happily the men did not know what awaited them, they were
content to live in hopes.

The train passed through Stockton at about 6:30 A. M. Here Companies
A and B of the Sixth Regiment were standing in line ready to join the
San Francisco regiments and proceed to the capital. They were taken on
board the second section. The journey from Stockton was soon finished,
and at 8:30 A. M. the first section arrived in Sacramento, and stopped
at Twenty-first street.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: THE MOB IN FRONT OF THE DEPOT AT SACRAMENTO, JULY 4TH,
1894. (BARRY BALDWIN HARANGUING THE STRIKERS FROM THE TOP OF A PULLMAN
CAR.)]




[Illustration]

CHAPTER III.

FOURTH OF JULY AT SACRAMENTO.

“In war take all the time for thinking that the circumstances allow,
but when the time for action comes, _stop thinking_.”

_Andrew Jackson._


Sacramento at last! Ah, boys, little did we think when our section
pulled in at Twenty-first street, that we were now on the future field
of the great and glorious, but bloodless battle of “The Depot.” The
battle of strategic “co-operations” and still existing “truces,” in
which we were destined to take such a prominent “standing” part.

Sacramento! The scene of our future troubles and joys (much of the
former but how very few of the latter). Our troubles began when the
order came to sling knapsacks and form in the street. That never to be
forgotten 4th of July was a banner day for heat, even in the annals of
sultry Sacramento; and as we stepped from our car, tired, hungry, and
oh, my! how hot, we were inhumanely confronted by a large sign on the
side of a brewery, “Ice Cold Buffalo 5cts.” The eye of many a brave
comrade grew watery and his mouth dry as we stood there in the burning
rays of the sun with our knapsacks and blankets on our backs facing
that sign like a little band of modern Spartans and waiting patiently
for the order to march. Soon the “glittering staff,” armed to the
teeth, passed “gorgeously” by; the order “forward” echoed along the
line, and the “army of occupation” was in motion.

We had arrived and formed at 8:00 and marched at about 8:30. The
train stopped at Twenty-first and R streets, and our line of march to
the armory was as follows: North along Twenty-first to P, along P to
Eleventh, along Eleventh to N, along N to Tenth, along Tenth to L and
along L to the armory on the corner of Sixth, in all fully three miles.

Never before did the Old City Guard participate in such a 4th of July
“parade.” After a long night of unrest, trudging along block after
block through the sweltering heat, without the enlivening sounds of
drums or fife, our heavy packs growing heavier at every step, the salt
perspiration blinding our eyes, and looking up only to see the heat
dancing along the road in front of us, we felt little inclination to
joke or notice the open-mouthed wonder of many of the onlookers. Still
we could hear the remarks of the bystanders, that they “guessed the
strikers felt sick this morning,” or of the apparently less impressed
small boy who “reckoned de strikers would pop off dat fatty fust.” The
betting was even as to whether he meant Kennedy or Sieberst, but the
rival claimants “co-operated” by rendering a decision.

Worn, weary, and hungry we arrived at the Armory at 9:15, and found the
Sacramento troops, Companies E and G of the Second Infantry, already
under arms. Stacking arms on L street, and a strong guard being left
at the stacks, we were marched in column of twos into the armory
drill-hall where the now world-renowned “ample breakfast” supplied by
Adjutant General Allen, late Second Lieutenant Commissary Department
Missouri State Volunteers, awaited us. This, according to General
Allen, “ample breakfast,” consisted of coffee strong enough “to run for
Congress,” and bread. Certainly a very “ample” breakfast for men who
had been awake and traveling all night, many without dinner the evening
before, and executed such a trying march that morning. Ample, too, when
it is considered that this was intended to serve both as breakfast and
lunch, and, it might be dinner.

Thus is a lesson in economy given by the military heads of this great
State to the civil heads who may wish to profit thereby.

Thus is the frugality of our forefathers, in their great battle for
home and freedom on the shores of the Atlantic, exemplified on the
distant shores of the calm Pacific by our ever to be remembered
Adjutant General, late Second Lieutenant Commissary Department Missouri
State Volunteers.

However, despite our foolish doubts as to the amplitude and quality of
our meal, the shade of the hall and the relaxation from the fatigue of
the march were very welcome.

While we were regaling ourselves a shot was heard fired in the street
in front of the armory; and the report quickly spread that the shot
had been fired by a striker in the crowd, wounding a soldier on guard
at the stacks. This, however, proved untrue, as it was found that a
private of the Sixth, in loading, accidentally discharged his piece,
the firing-pin of which seems to have been rusty, the cartridge
exploding when he tried to force it home. The bullet struck the front
rank man in the calf of the leg, wounding him severely. Passing through
the guardsman’s leg, it struck on a rock in the street and split,
both pieces glancing into the crowd of sightseers. In the crowd four
persons in all were injured, more or less severely; one of them, Mr.
O. H. Wing, a citizen of Sacramento, being struck in the abdomen and
killed. His death was deeply regretted by the soldiers; especially so
as Mrs. Wing, his gentle, high-minded widow, wrote to the soldier, the
unfortunate cause of her bereavement, exonerating him from all blame
and assuring him of her deepest sympathy.

Having finished our ample breakfast the City Guard was marched from the
armory in column of twos, and allowed to rest in the shade of an awning
on the corner of Sixth and M streets.

Now and all during the campaign which followed the absurdly childish
way in which the press and many of the people looked on the citizen
soldiery, and on the work which they were doing at the call of their
country, was both surprising and irritating to the men who had left
their homes and business to protect the lives and property of their
fellow-citizens. It is true this was no wild unled mob. It was worse;
as was proven later by the most cold-blooded train wreck and murder
ever perpetrated in the West, that of the 12th of July. A murder far
beyond the abilities of our ignorant Eastern mobs, planned by the
leaders and executed by some of the most important members of the A. R.
U.

The absurd position of antagonism to the soldiers taken by the people
was instanced on this first morning in what now seems a rather amusing
incident, though it needed but little more to make it very serious at
the time.

When arms were stacked in the street in front of the armory guards
were posted round the building; L street at its crossing with Sixth
and for a short distance towards Fifth and Seventh streets being most
heavily guarded. This of course stopped the passage of all teams over
this street for about the distance of a block. As “B” was leaving the
armory to make room for the less fortunate companies which had not yet
been introduced to General Allen’s breakfast, by this time reduced to
bread and water, we saw an infuriated fool driving a wagon in which
were seated two women and a child, lashing his horse at a furious
pace through the line of sentries. He had passed several, but just at
the crossing of Sixth street met men of sterner stuff. Two sentries,
members of a Sacramento company, who happened to be close together
and in the center of the street, decided to stop his mad career. One
brought his piece to the “charge bayonets” while the other prepared to
grasp the horse by the bridle. This he did, and did well, just as the
horse reared at the pointed bayonet, carrying the soldier with him. Had
he missed his leap for the bridle the horse would most undoubtedly have
been impaled on the bayonet. The beast in the wagon became laughably
furious when the beast in the shafts was stopped. He wasted his breath
shouting out the usual jargon about “being a taxpayer,” etc., but it
was of no avail; he was led ignominiously back over the route over
which he had made his glorious charge for principle, greeted by the
laughing jeers of the crowd that cheered him but a moment before as he
made his mad rush to get through. Such is the uncertainty of public
favor.

Here in the shade we waited, amusing ourselves as best we could, our
guards at the company stacks being relieved every half hour until at
11:15 A. M., we received the order to fall in, preparatory, it seemed
to the unconsulted enlisted man, to moving on the depot. This was
confirmed in our minds when, having formed at the stacks, we were
relieved of the heavy burden of our knapsacks; these being placed on
wagons impressed for the purpose.

The division formation was made on Sixth street, the boys of “B”
feeling greatly chagrined when they saw Brigadier General Sheehan’s
four companies, “E” and “G,” of the Second Infantry, and “A” and “B,”
of the Sixth Infantry of Stockton take the van; and surprise, too,
thinking, as we did, that the lack of faith in the Sacramento companies
at least was the real cause of our call for service. Later on that
trying day our misgivings were justified.

The First Regiment under Colonel W. P. Sullivan fell in behind General
Sheehan’s command. The First Battalion, under Major Geo. R. Burdick,
consisting of companies “A,” Captain Marshall, “H,” Captain Eisen,
“G,” Captain Sutliff, and “B,” Captain Cook; and the Second Battalion
under Major Jansen, consisting of companies “F,” Captain Margo, “D,”
Captain Baker, and “C” under Lieutenant Ruddick. The Third Regiment of
Infantry, Colonel Barry commanding, brought up the rear, and acted as
guard to the baggage. General Dimond and staff, and the Second Brigade
Signal Corps, Captain Hanks, marched in rear of the First Regiment.

The movement toward the depot commenced at about 11:45 A. M., the
companies of General Sheehan’s command marching in close column of
company, and the San Francisco regiments falling almost immediately
into street column formation; the Gatling gun section of Light Battery
“A,” under 1st Lieutenant Holcombe, taking position in the hollow of
the First Battalion of the First Regiment.

To those in the ranks it seemed as though the large crowds of gayly
dressed sightseers which followed us, looked upon our march as a
Fourth of July celebration. This, without doubt, was the cause of the
remarkable sight which greeted us, as the Sacramento and Stockton
companies fell away from our front later in the day, and exposed to our
view a motley crowd of men, women, and children. It seemed more like
a Saturday afternoon crowd on Market street than a mob resisting the
authority of a United States marshal. Still it took but a second glance
to tell us that the great majority were strikers.

What interesting studies were our comrades as we marched quietly along
toward the depot; how truly were the feelings of each depicted on his
face. Here and there fear was to be seen, plainly mingled however, with
a determination not to yield to the feelings. Some, too, seemed to
feel an elation at the approaching conflict, while by far the greater
number marched along with an indifference surprising in men who were
answering their first call for actual service, and that, too, against
men as well armed as they, angry and determined not to yield a foot.
The militia well knew that this was no beer-drinking, stone-throwing,
leaderless mob, to which the East is so well accustomed; but, on the
contrary, that it was a well-organized and coolly led mob, holding the
advantage of position and determined to fight rather than yield.

As the column debouched from Second street into the open ground before
the depot, men wearing the A. R. U. badge could be seen rushing in
from all directions, summoned, by furious blasts on a steam whistle, a
preconcerted signal used by the strikers as soon as the intention of
our officers became apparent.

When the head of our column had almost reached the open west end of the
depot the command was halted, our battalion still keeping its street
column formation. Then commenced a trial far more trying in the minds
of most of us than even the hot fight we had so surely expected, would
have been. It was now high noon and the sun had reached its zenith, the
heat being remarkable even for Sacramento; the road was covered with a
fine dust, which, stirred by the restless feet of the waiting soldiers,
hung in clouds in the warm air, making breathing almost impossible.

As the column halted, the crowd which had been following us and which
gathered at the blast of the steam whistle rushed in around the four
foremost companies, completely shutting them off from our view, except
for the line of bayonets which glistened above the heads of the mob.
Then commenced a scene of confusion almost indescribable. Shouts,
cheers and hoarse commands mingling in an uproar that at times was
deafening. The strain on the San Francisco troops now became intense;
the lack of sleep and food, combined with the terrific heat and the
excitement and anxiety of the occasion, began to have its effect; many
of the men tottered and fell. They were quickly borne off by their
comrades in the ranks or by men of the fife and drum corps, who did
efficient service on that trying day, to the hospital, established
temporarily in the pipe house of the water company, where the Hospital
Corps of the First did heroic work; gaining, as of course, no
recognition thereof by the press.

The uproar in front continued. Suddenly the glittering line of bayonets
fell and shouts from the mob of “Fall in there!” “Get in front!”
“Don’t give a step!” resounded over the tumult. Anxiously we waited
to hear the next order, which might ring the deathknell of many of
our comrades, when shout after shout pealed out from the excited mob.
A thrill ran along our ranks. “They had thrown down their arms.” We
gritted our teeth and waited breathlessly for the order to charge. But
that order was not to come during that whole trying day. Three times
did the report run along the line that the Sacramento men had thrown
down their arms and then taken them up again at the entreaty of their
officers. The men in our ranks began to feel disgusted. Was this to
be the performance gone through by each company in turn? Were they
to be cheered and argued with, coddled and cajoled out of the ranks?
Standing there in the dust, burning with thirst for water we dare not
touch, with the thermometer above one hundred and five degrees in the
shade, watching the farce in front, and looking off toward the vacant
unprotected south front of the depot, knowing well that a corporal’s
squad, if thrown in from the rear, could clear it, and yet powerless
to move, it would have been little wonder if the best trained regular
troops became disgusted. “Why do we not take the strikers in the rear
while they palaver with the men in front?” “Where are our Generals,
not a sign of whom have we seen since our arrival, and their staffs,
numbering enough in themselves to clear the depot?” However,

  “Their’s not to reason why.”

We must stand there and await developments. They were certainly
improving our tempers to fight, for we would have fought an European
host for the chance to get into that shady depot and escape the
burning heat of the dusty road. The men continued to fall on all sides
exhausted, and it seemed as if the laurels of victory would deck the
brow of a third party--Old Father Sol. The uproar of shouts, cheers,
and yells continued in front. Suddenly a wave of surprise, then of
satisfaction, passed over us. The Sacramento troops were marching off
the ground, followed by a frantic mob of men and boys. Our chance would
come soon. Speculation now became rife. Would the Stockton men do the
same, or would they press forward against the mob? A few minutes of
tumult, mingled yells and cheers for “Stock” settled the question for
us. We saw the flash of the bayonets as the pieces were brought to the
right shoulder; fours right, column right, and the Stockton companies
marched by, cheered to the echo by the strikers.

Our turn at last! A yell of “Three cheers for the San Francisco boys”
was answered lustily by the mob. But we had gone beyond that; we wanted
that depot, and meant to have it if the officers would only give the
order. We grasped our pieces ready for the order, “Forward,” those
who were growing sick and dizzy bracing themselves for a final rush.
But the order never came. Cries for quiet and of “Baldwin” came from
the mob nearest the Depot, and looking over the heads of the crowd
we could see Marshal Baldwin mounting to the roof of the cab of one
of a string of dead locomotives which stretched along the main line
west. He was quickly followed by three or four leaders of the mob, who
succeeded in quieting the crowd by assurances of “keep quiet”; “one at
a time”; “you’re next”; etc. Now began a novel scene indeed. Imagine a
United States marshal, with six hundred soldiers at his back, pleading
with a mob with, as it seemed to us, tears in his eyes, to disperse,
to surrender the Depot, to return to their homes. From that moment
the strikers knew that the day was won, that no troops, no matter how
willing, would enter that building while commanded by Marshal Baldwin,
without the strikers’ own kind permission. How that mob enjoyed our
humiliation and the scene of a United States marshal pleading with them
like a child. We had been called from our homes for active service, and
now stood, in all our useless bravery, the audience of a farce in real
life.

The farce proceeded. The men on the cab draped the marshal’s head with
small American flags, exchanged hats with him, and indulged in a few
other pleasantries for the edification of their friends below.

[Illustration: THE DEPOT AT SACRAMENTO, JULY 4TH, 1894.]

Failing in his first purpose the marshal now began to plead for time
that he might meet Mr. Knox or Mr. Compton and talk it over with them;
methods which were supposed to have been tried before the call for
military aid. He begged for a truce until 3 o’clock. Oh, the irony of
it! He, the aggressor, begging for a truce at the hands of a mob until
then plainly on the defensive. They refused the truce, the time was too
short, they said. “Then 5, 6 o’clock,” appealingly spoke the marshal.
Seeing plainly that the day was lost and that any greater delay
would now only be injurious to his own men, Col. Sullivan of the First,
who, by the way, appeared to be the ranking officer present, though
there had been at least four general officers with us in the morning,
stepped upon the cab and told the mob, not in tones of pleading, but
decidedly, that this truce must be entered into; that his men were
not used to such extreme heat, and that he intended to move them into
the shade. Suddenly Knox, the leader of the strikers, escorted by a
large American flag, emerged from the depot, cheered loudly by the
mob. Now, it appears a truce until 6 o’clock was quickly entered into,
and the men who had marched confidently through the town that morning
were, amid the hoots and jeers of the people, led away, sullen and
dispirited, to a vacant lot by the side of the depot. Here the men of
the First were allowed to rest and take advantage of such shade as
they could find. B and the section of Light Battery A took possession
of an old shed; C and G found another in rear of the first, which they
appropriated to their own use; D was stretched on the ground a short
distance farther on, and the other companies mingled together in the
shade of some trees some distance to the right of B’s position. It
could now be seen that, among the men, the disgust at the failure to
accomplish what we had come such a distance to do, was very great. In
B, at least, it was deep and genuine. All during that long sultry day
the unprotected front entrance of that cool, shady building had stared
us in the face, and yet, for some unaccountable reason, we did not get
the order to enter. We felt that the strikers would retire if a company
were thrown quietly in through that end, and were justified in our
opinion, when, some days later, a corporal’s squad of regulars cleared
the place in a few moments.

Under the influence of the rest and shade our excited feelings
gradually became relieved. Talk as we might we could not improve our
situation, so we soon resigned ourselves to circumstances, and waited
as quietly as possible for 6 o’clock. The men of the Hospital Corps,
under whose care 150 men had been placed during those three hours,
now gradually drew ahead with their work, and soon had all their
patients relieved. Out of the 150 soldiers prostrated we are glad to be
able to say that only three were from B, and even these, after a few
minutes’ rest, were able to lend their assistance to the Hospital Corps
themselves.

Delegates from the strikers now made their appearance, with the evident
intention of getting the soldiers drunk before six o’clock. Captain
Cook, however, ordered his men to accept no invitations to drink. Not
to be baffled, the strikers soon reappeared, carrying cases of bottled
beer, which the captain quickly refused to allow his men to receive.
Still persistent, a striker stepped into the shade of our shed carrying
two quart bottles of whiskey, which he proceeded to toss amongst the
men. The captain was still on the alert, however, and ordered the
bottles returned, telling the overgenerous striker that he would not
allow his men to receive liquor.

Lieutenant Filmer and Sergeant Kelly were then sent into town, with
orders to purchase two cases of soda water, which, on its arrival, was
quickly disposed of. Quartermaster Sergeant Clifford, ever watchful,
procured at a coffee house close by a supply of buns, which he quickly
manufactured into sandwiches, and distributed amongst his famished
comrades.

The scene had by this time become exceedingly picturesque. The tired,
wearied men had quieted down, some stretched on the ground sleeping
heavily, their heads pillowed on rolled blankets or on knapsacks;
others resting in the same way, though chatting quietly, and still
others were busily writing letters, using the head of a drum or the
back of a knapsack placed on the knees as they sat on the ground as a
desk.

It has been commonly reported that the soldiers became boisterously
drunk, and fraternized freely with the very men they had come there
to fight. If this be so, it was confined almost entirely to the other
commands, no man of the First, to our knowledge, and most decidedly
none of “B,” being even slightly intoxicated. The afternoon passed
slowly by, no apparent preparations being made to resume hostilities at
the expiration of the truce. Six o’clock came, but with it no change of
position. Now we began to wonder whether or not our “ample breakfast”
of the morning was intended to serve as supper, too. If that were so,
we decided that man’s nature had changed since General Allen was young,
for we certainly began to feel the pangs of hunger.

Our fears were allayed, however, when, at 6:30, the order “Fall in
for supper” was given. Taking our arms with us, we were marched,
under command of Lieutenant Filmer, to the State House Hotel, where
our display of gastronomic powers completely dismayed the scurrying
waiters.

Returning from supper our pace was an evidence of the good use we had
made of this chance to appease our appetites.

Returned to our shed near the depot, it was evident the position
remained unchanged. The different companies were either going to or
returning from supper at the various hotels.

The evening passed quietly; many of the men sleeping on the ground
where they had thrown their knapsacks.

At about 9:30 P. M. Captain Cook formed the company, and told us that
the First would be removed to the Horticultural Hall, on the main floor
of which we would be allowed to bivouac that night. The companies were
already moving, and “B,” getting possession of an electric car, was the
last company to leave. The car, as of course, proved to be the wrong
one, and carried us less than half the desired distance. The rest of
the way was covered on foot, the company arriving at the hall some
little time after the other companies had settled down for the night.
What a scene we would have presented to the eyes of a stranger! Every
available foot of floor was covered with sleeping forms. The band stand
and stage were utilized; even the steps, a very precarious bed indeed,
were in demand; and every corner that appeared to offer security from
draughts had its quota of men.

Thus ended that great and glorious Fourth of July, in the year of our
Lord, 1894. Glorious, indeed, in the annals of this great Empire State
of the West.

Thus, too, does history repeat itself. The Fourth of July! The
anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, and of that greatest
struggle of the Civil War of the Rebellion, the battle of Gettysburg;
and now, for all future ages, to be trebly honored as the anniversary
of the bloodless battle of the Sacramento Depot.




[Illustration: FIRST REGIMENT CAMP, CAPITOL GROUNDS.]

CHAPTER IV.

CAMP ON THE CAPITOL GROUNDS.


Thursday morning, July 5th, the weary members of the First Regiment
were awakened from a comfortless sleep on the hard floor by the
catcalls and shrieks of the early birds. Company F was quartered on
the band-stand, and, from this point of vantage, sent up yells that
would wake the dead; and clear and loud above all were heard the
strident tones of Tommy Eggert. Sleep was out of the question, not to
say dangerous, for soon bands of practical jokers were roaming around,
like lions, seeking whom they might devour. Private Hayes discovered
Sergeant Sturdivant in slumber sweet, his lengthy form enveloped in an
immaculate and frilled nightgown, his tiny pink feet (he wears 10’s)
incased in dainty worsted slippers fastened with pink ribbons; this was
too much. Did he think he was at the Palace Hotel? If he even dreamed
of such a thing he was soon to receive a rude awakening. Willing hands
seized the blanket on which he lay, and he was yanked out into the
middle of the floor. He awoke to find himself surrounded by a howling
mob of men, while shouts of laughter filled the hall. What became of
the nighty-nighty and those slippers is a mystery; for a number of
the souvenir fiends of the company went on a still hunt for those
articles, but all in vain, they were never seen afterwards. Ben soon
learned to sleep with his clothes on like the rest of the crowd.

Renewed confidence and security filled the rank and file when it was
learned that we had received a strong reinforcement in the person of
the old (young) Veteran Corporal Lew Townsend.[1]

[1] Corporal Lew R. Townsend is the veteran of the National Guard of
California. He is 62 years of age, and has been in constant active duty
for 40 years. He joined the First California Guard on July 12, 1854,
and was transferred on January 30, 1857, to the City Guard. He remained
a member of this organization until April, 1866, the date of the
organization of the California National Guard, when it became Company B
of the First Regiment Infantry, N. G. C. Lew continued his membership
with this latter organization, and at present wears 13 service stripes,
which show that he has served 39 years. On September 14th, 1894, he
enlisted again, giving him credit for over 40 years of service.

Lew’s motto is “I’ll stay with the boys,” and he is the biggest boy in
the crowd himself. Though his feet are going back on him a little, he
manages to air his numerous medals, and bejeweled gun at all parades
and military displays, and never misses a drill. He is still a good
shot, and on Sunday morning, when his Palace Hotel breakfast agrees
with him, makes the eyes of the youngsters over at the Shell Mound
shooting range stick out of their heads at his remarkable shooting. May
his kindly, jolly face be ever with us.

Soon the question of breakfast became of vital interest, and the faces
of the boys grew very serious at the thought of a repetition of the
heavy breakfast of the day before. But there were better things in
store for us. The company received the order to “fall in,” and was
marched to one of the downtown hotels, where a good meal was served.
Thus fortified, we were ready for any thing, from playing marbles
to killing a man. At this meal a nice large size linen napkin was
placed at the plate of each man. Hereby hangs a tale. Handkerchiefs
and towels were scarce. The boys had already been so well imbued with
the principle of “taking,” by the illustrious and industrious example
of Quartermaster Arthur Clifford, the great exponent of the art “of
acquiring,” that seldom was a napkin seen again by any of the company
on a Sacramento hotel dining-table. The honesty and rectitude of Van
Sieberst must here receive special mention, his response to the call
to serve his country was so hurried that he failed to supply himself
with the necessary handkerchiefs and towels; but his fertile brain soon
found a way out of this difficulty. He took a napkin, or, when such was
not available, a roller towel from the hotel in the morning, used it
all day as handkerchief and towel, but--here is where honesty became
the best policy--returned the soiled article at supper, appropriated a
clean one, and then, at night, slept that calm and peaceful sleep which
the just alone enjoy.

After breakfast we were marched back to the hall, and there, for a few
delightful hours, disported ourselves in its cool area. This hall and
the depot were the only cool spots in Sacramento. Scientists may rave
about the spots on the sun, but a cool spot was the only spot that
interested the ’Frisco boys while at Sacramento. The hope that we might
continue to be quartered in this hall, was soon to be dispelled. The
order came to fall in, and, after the usual ceremonies, the regiment
was turned over to Colonel Sullivan, who made a short speech, in which
he praised the conduct of the men the day before. The failure of
the National Guard to accomplish its purpose could not, he said, be
attributed to the lack of loyalty on the part of the First Regiment.
He further stated that we would at once march over to the lawn of the
Capitol where tents would be pitched, and camp established.

During the campaign the men were inflicted with all kinds of oratory.
The number of speeches made would do credit to a political campaign,
both as to quantity and quality. Colonel Sullivan started the flow of
oratory at the armory with his dramatic and forcible “shoot to kill”
speech. We had many speeches from him afterwards that ranged from the
sublime to the pathetic. Who of us will ever forget the 4th of July,
when we stood like Spartans under a blazing sun, listening to the
oratory of Marshal Barry Baldwin and the strikers, who held forth from
the top of an engine-cab. Major Burdick, many think, came next; but our
boys say Captain Cook. We think they stand about even. Major Burdick’s
speeches were longer; but, though Captain Cook spoke oftener (he gave
us a rattle every morning before breakfast) and his speeches were just
as long in point of time--he said less. A number expressed the opinion
that these gentlemen were just practicing the art of spouting, to be in
good condition to take an active part in the political campaign which
would be inaugurated a few months later.

[Illustration: CO. “B” STREET, CAPITOL GROUNDS, SACRAMENTO, CAL.]

The regiment was then marched to the Capitol grounds, where tents were
pitched on the nice, smooth, green lawn. It was afterwards rumored
throughout the camp that this was done despite the objections of
General Allen, who wanted the camp pitched on the plowed and broken
ground just beyond the lawn. Our good General would not entertain the
proposition; considering the comfort and welfare of his men of far more
importance than the lawn. Hearing this rumor, the poet laureate of the
company, after three days of close application, hard study, and great
mental exertion produced the following poetic gem:

  Then up spoke General Allen; his voice was fierce and loud,
  “Your men must leave this grassy lawn, there is a field just plowed.
  It is more meet to send them there; why should the rank and file
  Have access around the Capitol, or its green lawns defile?”
  Thus spoke the doughty warrior from Missouri’s classic plains;
  But a peal of scornful laughter he got for all his pains.

  For General Dickinson uprose, and raised on high his hand,
  And said: “The gallant soldiers I am honored to command
  Shall fare as is befitting our boys so brave and true,
  Despite of martinets, whose forte is dress parade review.”
  We hailed our dashing General with a hearty three times three,
  And Allen of Pike county merged into obscurity.

It was at this juncture that the disciples of Mickey Free, made famous
by Charles Lever, made themselves conspicuous, led by William Tooker,
the quietest man that ever sold a brogan, they nestled down amid
the blankets and comforters that were piled beneath the trees, and
gazed with dreamy eyes, through the curling smoke of the ever present
cigarette, at their toiling companions erecting the tents under the
hot sun. During the day, between the heat and flies, these tents were
practically uninhabitable.

While the men were thus busily engaged the busy mind of Quartermaster
Clifford was filled with thoughts of the noonday meal; where was it
to come from? The regimental commissary department was established in
rather a condensed form under a large tent about one hundred feet to
the right of the regiment. The men had worked up quite an appetite, and
if there is any thing a Guardsman likes to do it is to eat. Clifford’s
experience had taught him this, and he resolved that the boys should
get what was coming to them, and as much more as he could take. Their
confidence in him must not be misplaced. He carelessly strolled over to
the commissary’s tent and inquired of the assistant commissary, what
time he would call for Company B’s rations; he was informed that as
soon as enough sandwiches were made for the regiment each company would
get its portion. _As soon as they had made enough sandwiches to feed
the regiment!_ This remark set Clifford thinking. It was now 11:30 A.
M. and one man making sandwiches for about four hundred half-starved
soldiers. Let us see when a “City Guard” man is not hungry; it is
quite an easy matter for him to put away four family size sandwiches;
then, there are Dick Radke, Frech, Overstreet, Townsend, and a few
others who are good for about nine each. That man making sandwiches was
likely to be about two thousand years old when he would have his job
finished. How to give the boys their lunch at 12 o’clock under these
circumstances was a problem that puzzled him deeply; there were several
knives lying around, he could take one; but what good would be a knife
without the stuff to cut? There was plenty of bread and beef, but
should he commit the larceny of them, what would it avail him without a
knife to cut and carve with?--

  “And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng,
  Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along.”

Thus ruminating he was disturbed by a sentry who told him that only
those connected with the regimental commissary department were allowed
there; he must therefore go. Clifford went--about three feet--and stood
with his eyes resting on a pile of tinware, which was also to be issued
proportionately with the rations. Something must be done; he must get
on the inside track some way. His experience told him that some company
was going to get left when the distribution took place, and never
should it go down in history that Company B would be that company.
No; not while he was quartermaster. His reputation was at stake, he
must now, if ever, display the great power, spirit, and desire for
“_taking_” that surged and swelled within his manly breast, only
awaiting the opportunity to burst its bounds, and acquire every thing
in sight.

But how to get on the inside--ah! an idea strikes him, and he
immediately busies himself helping the lonely sandwich-maker.
Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald appears upon the scene and asks Clifford
who gave him a position in his sandwich manufactory. Clifford evaded
the question by humbly venturing his opinion that it would take all
day to make sandwiches for the whole regiment; and why not issue the
rations in bulk to each company and let them make their own sandwiches.
“A good idea” said the commissary sergeant; and for the suggestion
Clifford was allowed to take his company’s rations, which consisted of
10 ℔ corned beef, 5 ℔ cheese, 1 large bologna sausage, 1 roll butter,
12 loaves bread, and last, but not least, the apple of every good
soldier’s eye, a keg of hop juice. The stores issued were 2 tin buckets
and 20 tin cups.

Clifford began to take the rations, and when he finished _taking_ an
inventory of the contents of the capacious chest in his tent, it was as
follows: 15 ℔ corned beef, 10 ℔ cheese, 2 large bologna sausages, 2
rolls butter, 18 loaves bread, 8 buckets, 40 tin cups, 2 coffee-pots,
3 dozen each tin plates, knives and forks, 2 large knives, 1 bucket
sugar, and 1 bucket coffee. It was a glorious _take_, a splendid
beginning, and well might our quartermaster gaze on the results of his
industry and activity with pride, feeling that he had done his whole
duty.

[Illustration: CAPT. I. B. COOK LIEUT E. C. LUNDQUIST LIEUT. G. FILMER]

For a while Clifford had clear sailing; he was on the inside track;
was admitted to the ground floor, so to speak; but on a fatal day the
regimental commissary ran short of butter, and the different company
quartermasters were notified to that effect. This did not phase
Clifford; from the cavernous depths of his chest he produced a roll of
rich golden butter; and the gastronomical wheels of the boys’ insides
were as liberally greased as if the regimental commissary had tons of
butter. Not so with the members of the other companies, the sandwiches
that were wont to slip down their throats when well buttered now
rasped tissues and membranes in a most painful manner; a great howl
was sent up thereat, and a still greater howl when it was discovered
that B’s men had butter. The other company quartermasters thinking the
regimental commissary was unjustly discriminating in favor of Company
B made a great kick to Fitzgerald. Company B have butter, impossible!
They received no butter from him, this mystery must be solved,
he straightway swooped down on Clifford, and taking him unawares
discovered the well-filled condition of his larder, there he saw many
things whose disappearance from his quarters puzzled him not a little,
he had discovered the leak in his stores, and ever afterwards Clifford
was looked upon with a suspicious eye. Whenever he was seen approaching
the commissary department, Fitzgerald immediately made a hasty
inventory of everything in sight, and when anything disappeared he was
off like a flash to see if Clifford had it. From this on Clifford had
an uphill fight--a fight in which he was invariably victorious.

Our regiment was camped about two hundred yards in the rear of the
Capitol, on the line of L street, the Third Regiment was camped the
other side of the park, about one hundred yards from the First. General
Dickinson declared the camp closed, sentries were posted, and no one
was allowed to leave or enter the camp without a special permit.

The Captain’s tent was at the head of B street, and he shared its
occupancy with First Lieutenant E. C. Lundquist, better known as
“easy” and Lieutenant George (Chesterfield) Filmer, famed for his
shapely form and the cut of his Prince Albert coat. All three officers
were loved by every man in the company, and the same feeling of
confidence that was felt by the men in their officers was felt by the
officers in the men.

[Illustration: CHAS. PERRY FIRST SERGT. A. F. RAMM CORP. J. N. WILSON
H. F. POWLESON WM. OVERSTREET]

Tent crowds were now formed, and the leaders drew lots for the tents to
which they were to be assigned.

The first tent was occupied by First Sergeant A. F. Ramm. He never
sleeps, sometimes they think he is asleep, but he has always one eye
open, handsome Corporal J. N. Wilson, W. L. Overstreet, with his hair
parted at the equator, Charles Perry, hot soldier, straight and
strong, and keeper of the key.[2] H. F. Powelson, happy-go-lucky,
never worried, William Tooker, with a pronounced aversion for work and
William Unger, the veteran. Later on this tent crowd was joined by the
alleged Dutch comedian, Dr. W. H. Sieberst.

[2] During the last Santa Cruz camp Perry, who was experiencing his
first military camp, became the victim of an aged and time-honored
joke. He was told that the firing of the gun announcing sunrise
could not be accomplished unless the key was found; he was hurriedly
dispatched in search of it. He was sent from one to another, and
finally applied to Adjutant Williams for the key of the gun. While
still pursuing his search the report of the gun filled the air;
thinking they had found the key he paid no more attention to the
matter, until he was apprised that a practical joke had been played
on him by reading an account of it in the papers, at the same time
receiving from friends in the city a highly ornate and polished
hardwood key.

[Illustration: SERGT. A. H. CLIFFORD MUSICIAN, WM. DE LOS MURPHY
MUSICIAN, SERGT. WM. H. SIEBERST WM. H. O’MALLEY]

Tent No. 2 contained a homogenous mixture of mankind. Quartermaster
Sergeant A. H. Clifford heads the list, with his taking ways, a man
who took for the sake of taking, who considered the right of taking a
sacred one, and exercised that right at all times much to the benefit
of the company’s larder; it is said of him that he would rather take
than receive; William De Los Murphy, musician, “my name is my fortune,
sir,” he said; W. W. Wilson, another musician who has the honor of
having his name on the City Guard’s muster-roll; R. E. Wilson, with
his bosom friend H. Gille, known in the Keeley Club as Antonelli, the
irresponsible, with a holy and righteous dread of water, and always on
guard; Van Sieberst, always out for fun and fond of his tea, a very
busy man around a keg of beer. This tent crowd received considerable
tone from its association with F. J. Monahan, the society leader
familiarly known as “lengthy.”

[Illustration: H. FRECH JAS. WEAR F. SHULA WM. J. HAYES MUSICIAN PAUL
RUPP GEO. HEIZMAN CORP. LEW TOWNSEND]

[Illustration: SAM. WISE JOS. KEANE ROBT. WILLIAMS P. J. KENNEDY CORP.
B. E. BURDICK HENRY LANG]

There were only six married men among the privates of the company.
Three of them were in No. 3 tent. This alone would be enough to
distinguish this tent from the others without making mention of the
gallant soldiers it contained. Corporal Burtis, always strictly
business, and a bad man to try to bluff, when he has a gun in his hand.
W. H. Hayes, Secretary of the Keeley Club, who grew a very red whisker
and wanted to look real hard, and he did; A. H. Frech, as model a
little soldier as ever the _Vaterland_ produced, awfully particular,
cleaning and polishing all the time; Frank Shula, who laughs to grow
fat, has been very successful in doing so; his snore is a thing that
has to be heard in order to be appreciated, he laughs all day and
snores all night; Paul Rupp, full of yarns in connection with his
service in Kaiser Wilhelm’s army, is one of our married men. He is a
musician, but later on rises to the position of chief cook. Jimmy Wear
and George Heizman, fitting comrades for Paul Rupp are also married
men. The way these poor wifeless men clung together during the campaign
was pathetic, there seemed to be a bond of sympathy between them, and
in a quiet sort of way they consoled each other; they slept together
on the same blanket, and partook together their humble meals. Each
day they dispatched a tender missive to the loved one far away. Last,
but not least of all, there was Lew Townsend, and between him and the
three married men the rest of the crowd in this tent narrowly escaped
demoralization.

[Illustration: WM. FLANAGAN MUSICIAN J. GILKYSON WM. CROWLEY W. S.
MCKAIG WM. MCM. D. O’BRIEN SERGT. W. N. KELLY P. BANNAN]

[Illustration: F. J. SINDLER CORP. AL. MCCULLOCH G. RADKE H. ADAMS
THOS. MCCULLOCH M. CLAUSSENIUS GEO. CLAUSSENIUS]

The fourth tent was known as the Keeley tent. Under the canvas covering
of this tent the great leaders of the Keeley Club held forth. The high
priest of the inner circle of the flowing bowl was Harry J. Lang and
his assistant was P. J. Kennedy. The tent leader was none other than
the well-known celebrity, Corporal Benjamin Burdick; during the silent
watches of the night his still small voice would be heard telling of
hairbreadth escapes in far away India and lion hunts in the wilds of
Africa. Kennedy was dubbed the Yolo Farmer the second day at camp,
and he looked like one. The two Bohemians, Lang and Kennedy, were the
life of the company, Lang never knew a quiet moment; a most sunny
disposition, and as brave as a lion; he was well paired with his
comrade Kennedy. Sam Wise, an honorary member of the company was in
this tent. At the call to arms he offered his services to the company
commander, and they were gladly accepted. It is entrancing to sit
and hear him tell about the first thing he did when he went to work.
Sam’s working periods are so few and far apart that he has occasion
to remember every little detail concerning them. Joe Keane, the
basso barrello, with a faraway look in his eye; the little hero, Bob
Williams, and E. M. Stealey, who sang “A Soldier’s Life’s the Life for
Me--Not,” made up the balance of the crowd.

[Illustration: L. ZIMMERMAN A. C. GEHRET WM. BAUMGARTNER H. B. SULLIVAN
A. FETZ SERGT. B. B. STURDIVANT]

[Illustration: W. A. BESEMAN. SERGT. H. B. TAYLOR. J. BRIEN. T.
HAMMERSON. G. UNGERMAN.]

The fifth tent was called the Irish tent, headed by the Irish Sergeant
Walter Kelly, a splendid soldier and officer. Wm. Flanagan, good old
nine, we called him; a very active man when our daily keg of beer was
on tap. He claimed descent from one of Ireland’s famous kings. W. S.
McKaig, dubbed kinky on account of his curly hair, was always writing
letters when there would be any work to do. W. W. Crowley, the most
desperate looking character in the camp and as desperate as he looked.
Johnny Gilkyson, drummer and willing worker, had no use for a drum
when there was sterner work to do, and soon attached himself to a gun.
Phil Bannan, always quiet and passive, a disciple of Wm. Tooker’s and
quite a society man; Flanagan called him piano Irish and sneered at
his social aspirations. Wm. O’Brien, always ready to volunteer for
dangerous work, was the last, but not the least of this crowd. Upon
the hearts of the members of this tent was emblazoned the motto, “We
Love Our Sarg.”[3]

[3] Sergeant Kelly.

[Illustration: R. E. WILSON AL. HEETH H. C. CASEBOLT GEO. BOWNE. J.
MONAHAN W. W. WILSON E. M. STEALY]

Corporal A. McCulloch was the leader of tent No. six. This was the
intellectual tent. Beneath its classic folds weighty questions of state
were argued and settled. The crowd in this tent claim that nightly
they were lulled to rest by the voice of their learned corporal in
the throes of some mighty argument; through the long stretches of the
night when they would occasionally awaken they would still hear his
voice; as if he were engaged in some great controversy. Morning found
him awake, physically, but the restless brain had not slept, and now,
with freshened physical senses, he still continued his interminable
argument. But he had aids and abettors in the persons of Henry Adams
and R. L. Radke (all will recall the soldierly appearance of the
last-named gentleman). Radke the younger, Max and George Claussenius,
F. J. Sindler and H. C. Warren were the unfortunate and paralyzed
listeners.

The seventh tent was called the German tent. Sergeant Sturdivant, the
leader of this crowd, is so tall and thin, that it is a surprise to
him when he casts a shadow. He is quite a society man, and a favorite
among the ladies. Another social favorite, Humphrey Sullivan, is also
in this tent. He sings so sweetly that we enjoy it very much, more so
if he were accompanied by a brass band. In this tent we have two other
stars in the vocal line, Al Gehret, a basso, and William Baumgartner,
a tenor, who can reach high “C” without an effort. In this crowd was
Fetz the long, Zimmerman the short, also called Punch for short, and
A. Heeth, Jr., with whose kindly aid we kept our rags together. This
concludes the description of the tents of the enlisted men and their
occupants. Only a week previous these men won the Dimond trophy, at the
yearly encampment of the regiment, for being the best drilled and best
disciplined company in the camp.

After our return from supper at one of the hotels, on this first
evening, those who were weary sought the seclusion of their tents; the
rest gathered beneath the trees and sang of love, but not of glory.
Private Tooker sang “Sweet Marie” with such pathos and expression,
that a tear was seen to tremble on the eyelid of Overstreet, and then
silently wend its way down to the point of his nose, where it hung
suspended for a while as if reluctant to part from him and then fell
to the earth with a loud splash. Thus we whiled away the hours, till
the bugle’s mellow notes swelling on the midnight air and thrilling the
hearts of all with its sweet, solemn music, sang the call to rest, and
then all was still.

Thirty minutes had passed and gone; the brave and true were dreaming
of home and mother, when a wild yell rang out on the stilly air, and
sounds of conflict were heard coming from tents Nos. 3 and 4, occupied
by the Keeleys. Soon Corporal Townsend was seen beating a hasty retreat
in great disorder from No. 3 tent, in the direction of the captain’s
abode, where he reported that a well-planned effort was being made by
the Keeleys to kidnap Private Hayes of tent No. 3. Meanwhile exciting
scenes were being enacted in these tents. The kidnappers, headed by the
Yolo Farmer and the High Priest of the Keeleys, were endeavoring to
drag the person of Private Hayes into their tent, but Corporal Burtis,
assisted by Privates Frech, Shula, and the married men, Paul Rupp,
Jimmy Wear and George Heizman, did Trojan work. After a well-delivered
blow from Hayes that connected with the head of the High Priest, who
sent up a howl of pain, they were beaten off. The Yolo Farmer, however,
returned to the charge, bayonet in hand, but the voice of the Captain,
threatening a sojourn in the guard-tent, acted like oil upon troubled
waters, and soon the warring factions were at rest.

During the night Fetz of ours, who was doing sentry duty, by the
ominous click of his gun’s hammer and a threat to fire, resurrected
two festive soldiers out of the brush in which they were hiding,
preparatory to an attempt to get into camp unobserved. They were
gathered in and taken to the guard-tent, where for two days they
sweltered and sweltered. The spectacle these two young gentlemen
presented as, bucket in hand, they went through the streets gathering
up the refuse, under the vigilant eye of a sentinel, was a source of
great amusement to their comrades.

While camped on the Capitol grounds we had breakfast and supper at the
hotels, and luncheon at camp. Arrangements were made so that no more
than three companies would be away at any one time. As usual a number
found fault with the hotel fare, but a week later, when the regiment
had to do its own cooking, they would have been very glad to return to
it. At lunch we had all the fruit we wanted; corned beef was always on
the bill of fare; but the keg of beer, that accompanied it, reconciled
us. Then there was bread, bologna sausage, sometimes crackers, and
always cheese; altogether we fared very well during the week.

Friday morning, on our return from breakfast, Sergeant Kelly made a
motion, that the rule be established, whereby any who shaved during the
campaign would be fined a dollar.

The motion was seconded and carried unanimously. Sergeant Kelly was one
of the first to avail himself of the expensive luxury.

The City Guard boys had now settled upon a unique style of wearing
their hats, which distinguished them from the rest of the companies.
The hat was dented four times perpendicularly, bringing the crown to
a point; this, with the unshaven faces, and the long swinging stride
and step we kept while marching to and from town, made us particularly
noticeable, and many comments were passed on our appearance. We were
getting well seasoned for the hard work, which we were shortly to be
called upon to do, and which we hope we did well.

The newspaper reports about this time were giving the boys “that tired
feeling.”

In a previous chapter it has been told how disgusted the men were at
the failure to take the depot. Therefore you may judge their surprise,
on reading the accounts published in the newspapers of the same, to
see that the failure to accomplish good results was laid at the door
of the rank and file of the National Guard. The press was not the only
accuser of the men, but from another source in which the men expected
to find their vindication they received the “unkindest cut of all.”
Their general officers it was who said they could not take the depot,
because the men were demoralized and could not be trusted. Oh! what a
subterfuge! On the surface what is to be conveyed by such a statement?
Two alternatives present themselves. First, either the statement is
true, or, second, the position of the officers themselves was weak and
they desired to strengthen it by shifting the responsibility for the
failure from their shoulders to those of the rank and file. If this
latter course was the one pursued then they might have known, mighty
though they be in the National Guard, that the consequences of such a
course would be sure sooner or later, to redound with greater force
upon themselves, and that instead of their position being strengthened,
they would stand exposed in all their iniquity, stripped of the last
shred of defense.

Investigation proves that the latter alternative is the correct one.
The men, despite what comes from the press or by other sources, were
not demoralized or untrustworthy. Being demoralized is meant, we
should judge, that the troops were not under the strict control of
their officers, and that confusion and lack of discipline reigned in
ranks. At no time in the day did such a state of affairs prevail. It
is true that a number of the men were prostrated by the heat, but the
prostration extended only to a comparative few and not to the entire
body of men as given out in the reports of certain officers. Besides
this, the prostration came after the troops had stood in line under the
hot sun for something like three hours. The men were willing and ready
at any time that afternoon to attempt to force the strikers from the
depot. Never were they called upon to do a harder thing, or one in
which they felt more disposed to rebel against their officers, than
when they were ordered to withdraw from the scene and leave the depot
in charge of the strikers. There was not a squad of men in Company
B, and when I mention Company B, I mean also every company with one
possible exception, who would not willingly, even gladly have charged
the mob of strikers. Curses, not loud but deep, were uttered in each
company as they withdrew. In one of the companies under the command of
Colonel Nunan the men cried out to advance, but no order came. Tears of
vexation rolled down the cheeks of some of the men. To travel over a
hundred miles and then suffer defeat--oh! how humiliating--not at the
hands of the strikers, but from their own officers. And yet, in the
face of all this, the failure to take the depot was laid at their doors.

Who was to blame for the failure of the operations on the Fourth? It
remained for a court of inquiry to finally fix the blame upon the
shoulders it belonged. This court was appointed by Governor Markham,
September 8, 1894, to inquire into the conduct of those troops of
the National Guard participating in the strike campaign, from its
commencement to its close. The work of the court was to be performed
without regard to rank prejudices or preconceived ideas. The court sat
in session for a period of twenty days, and made a minute examination
into the operations on the Fourth. Its work was well done. In the
columns of one of our large dailies the following appeared:

“The court of inquiry has done its duty well--truthful, fearless,
unmoved by considerations of friendships. Our Californian experience
with investigating bodies had given us no right to expect this high and
honorable result, and it is entitled to a swift, signal, and memorable
approval by executive action.”

The court of inquiry showed plainly that the reports made by the
commanding officers of the National Guard, and the charges appearing in
the press concerning the demoralization and untrustworthiness of the
troops were utterly false; that the rank and file, with the exception
of two companies mentioned elsewhere,[4] “were at all times under good
discipline, and behaved with becoming courage and loyalty.” The court
further found that certain officers greatly magnified the reports
concerning the physical debility of the men. The court, in summing up,
says: “There were men in the ranks, plenty and willing to retrieve the
day, when at three o’clock, after standing patiently in the sun for
three hours, they received their first orders, which were to move off
and abandon the attempt to take the depot.” Thus the rank and file were
finally vindicated after being for some time the object for obloquy by
the public and press.

[4] One of these companies was a Sacramento company whose members were
mostly employed by the railroad and therefor in sympathy with the
strikers, in fact some of them were strikers. The other company was a
company of the Third Regiment. Concerning this latter company, there
are many extenuating circumstances. Had the officers remained with
their company there is no doubt but what it would have been as reliable
as any other.

The question, who was to blame for the failure on the Fourth, we
would gladly leave at this place unanswered were it not for the fact
that an implication is worse than an assertion. So we again refer to
the report of the court of inquiry. Here it is shown that, on that
memorable occasion, “General Sheehan refused to obey orders, directly
communicated to him by Major General Dimond, to effect an entrance
into the depot by force, and to fire upon the mob if they refused to
give way”; it was further shown, that when the officer, upon whom the
command of the Second Brigade had devolved, received distinct orders
from Major General Dimond to clear the depot, by force if necessary,
he left his command and urged the commanding General not to compel
him to obey the order, as his men were demoralized and could not be
relied upon. It was upon this representation that an armistice was
entered into between the United States marshal and the strikers.
Here we have the case in a nutshell. _No orders were given to the
troops to advance at any time that afternoon against the strikers._ A
spirit of hesitation prevailed amongst the commanding officers. When
decisive action should have been taken questions of constitutional
law were debated by them at length. Instead of an officer executing
the commands transmitted to him by a superior officer he would desire
to know where his superior officer received authority to give such an
order. Just think of it, men who have been occupying high places in
the National Guard for years, questioning at the time for action the
authority of their superior officers and preventing decisive action by
misrepresenting the condition and maligning the characters of their
men. This then was the cause of the failure of the operations on the
Fourth, and well has it been called the “Battle of Sheehan & Co’s
Bluff.”

The garbled manner in which the occurrences of the Fourth were
presented to the public by the press was disgusting to the last degree.
From their accounts one would think that the men could fire or use the
bayonet at will, instead of being a disciplined body under superior
officers, subject to their commands in the minutest particular, and
had no option but to obey orders, _when they received them_. The
inefficiency of the National Guard was the subject of editorials; and
it seemed to be a great disappointment to the press that the depot on
the Fourth was not a scene of frightful carnage. Had the order come to
fire the men would most certainly have fired, the result would have
been a slaughter, and then in the columns of every newspaper in the
country we would be branded as red-handed, bloodthirsty murderers. The
newspapers even went so far as to cast reflections on the loyalty of
the Guard; this to men who left their peaceful callings at the call
to arms, left their homes, severed every attachment, every business
connection, left weeping parents, wives, brothers and sisters, traveled
by night, marched by day, and stood under a broiling sun for hours,
ready to do the bidding of their superiors, and then to have their
loyalty brought into question, this was too much. One enterprising
Sacramento paper came out with the disquieting information “That it was
rumored the strikers were going to use dynamite, but, with discretion,”
that was comforting, they would use dynamite “_with discretion_.” The
brainy reporter then, to seek a confirmation or denial of the rumor,
called upon Mr. Knox, the leader of the strikers, and asked him if they
were going to use dynamite, with discretion; of course he said yes.
This is a fair sample of some of the ridiculous stuff published by the
papers. The general tone of what did seem reliable and probable brought
us to the conclusion that we had come to stay awhile, and that we would
soon have plenty of work.

We had now settled down to the regular routine of military camp life.
The mornings were devoted to guard mount, company drills, and battalion
drills in the extended order.[5] The men in these drills acquitted
themselves with a dash and celerity of movement that would do credit to
regular troops. The face of grim-visaged war was partly shown to the
people of Sacramento as the battalions of the First Regiment charged
across the Capitol grounds, amid wild yells and the rapid reports of
the Gatling gun from the far off corner of the grounds. They tore
through the plowed ground, through water, down deep gulleys, up again
on the other side, and under the blazing sun, continued the charge
through the brush, until recalled by the whistle of the commander. In
the afternoon we had dress parade. Crowds were drawn to the camp to
witness these imposing ceremonies.

[5] To illustrate the last-named drill photos have been introduced,
taken during the last camp at Santa Cruz, showing the line, firing by
squad, section, company, and the rapid fire by the entire battalion.

A line of sentries, with loaded pieces, was posted round the entire
camp day and night. Each day the company furnished a detail for guard
duty. The personnel of these details were as follows: Thursday, July
5th, Lieutenant E. C. Lundquist, Corporal J. N. Wilson, privates J.
Gilkyson, W. J. Flanagan, A. H. Frech, A. Fetz, H. G. Gille, A. C.
Gehret, P. J. Kennedy. Friday, July 6th, Sergeant B. B. Sturdivant,
privates Wm. De Los Murphy, A. Heeth, Jr., G. H. Heizman, J. S. Keane,
H. J. Lang, S. Wise, W. S. McKaig. Saturday, July 7th, Captain I. B.
Cook, Corporal B. E. Burdick, Corporal E. R. Burtis, W. D. O’Brien,
W. L. Overstreet, C. Perry, H. F. Powelson, R. L. Radke. Sunday, July
8th, privates G. H. Radke, H. Sullivan, E. M. Stealey, F. Shula, F.
J. Sindler, W. H. Tooker. Monday, July 9th, Lieutenant George Filmer,
privates Wm. Unger, R. E. Wilson, R. J. Williams, H. C. Warren, J. R.
Wear, L. Zimmerman. Tuesday, July 10th, privates H. H. Adams, P. L.
Bannan, F. Baumgartner, G. L. Claussenius, M. Claussenius.

[Illustration: WILLIAM UNGER, AS HE APPEARED WHILE IN THE HAWAIIAN
GUARD.]

[Illustration: CORPORAL EDWIN BURTIS.]




[Illustration: THE VIGILANTES AT WORK.]

CHAPTER V.

THE VIGILANTES AT THE CAPITOL GROUNDS.


Though our time was considerably taken up with camp duties there was
plenty of time for amusement during the long day. Friday, July 6th, saw
the birth of the Vigilantes. This crowd, made up from the different
companies, created any amount of fun. Any one seen by a Vigilante doing
any thing out of the ordinary (shaving and hair-cutting were capital
offenses) was immediately reported; his person was apprehended, and
brought before the Chief of the Vigilantes, to whom both sides of the
case were presented, he judging whether the defendant was guilty or
not. The scales of justice were badly balanced in this court, for the
unfortunate one was always found guilty. Then the joy began, willing
hands stripped the victim to the waist, he was blacked all over,
balanced on his head and the State hose turned on him. The Yolo Farmer
fell into the clutches of these worthies, but not without a heroic
struggle; pursued by the ruthless mob, he rushed into his tent and,
on emerging, gun in hand and bayonet fixed, presented a formidable
appearance, as, thus armed, he defied his enemies. But their numbers
were too much for him, he was taken from the rear, and borne in triumph
to the place of execution. After a trial of great brevity, he was
stripped to the waist and, while suspended by the ankles, plentifully
watered by the hose. His Keeley brothers, Lang and Hayes, fearing the
same fate, made a hurried departure across the park and enjoyed his
discomfiture at a safe distance.

Van Sieberst was the next unfortunate; poor Van wasn’t doing any thing
either; but that was just the trouble; he had stretched his huge form
upon the earth and was indulging in the creations of fancy, when a
savage tribe of Vigilantes rushed upon him, tore him from out his
ethereal world and bore him to the place of execution. The shriek that
Van gave on being torn from his world of fancy, was heart-rending. He
was arraigned before the all-powerful chief of the Vigilantes, who
inquired, “Why comest this man here? Speak.” Thereupon a great silence
fell upon the assembly and forthwith there leapt from out of the throng
Tooker, the favorite son of the most renowned god of all Work, and
thus he spake: “Most noble Vigilantes, this man doth never work; to
the corporals of the all-powerful ‘City Guard’ he is a constant bane;
he is ever quick, most noble chief, to lie down, but slow to arise; he
was never known to shake the blankets of the tents of his people. Oh,
noble and great-hearted brothers, I bow my head with humiliation; he is
the laziest man in camp.” Thereupon, throughout that great multitude
there arose a loud cry, “Him we honor.” “Him we make our chief.” “Him
we obey.”

There was much rejoicing among the Vigilantes. And, thus it came
to pass, that after passing many days and nights in lowliness, Van
Sieberst, the heaven-descended son of Bacchus, became chief ruler of
the Vigilante Tribe. Verily, I say unto you, that many strange things
have come to pass.

One afternoon, as “Easy” Lundquist was telling an interesting story to
a number of the boys grouped about him and stretched upon the ground in
the shade of the spreading branches of a tree directly facing B street,
Jack Wilson, breaking through the circle and dropping heavily upon
the ground, interrupted him with the startling announcement that the
Vigilantes had just finished with Kelly. A long drawn “What, Sergeant
Kelly?” centered the attention of the crowd upon Herr Frech. “How did
it happen?” he continued, in surprise. “Why, it was only yesterday
that he defied a dozen of the company, who wanted to amuse themselves
at his expense, to touch him. He did not feel just then like fooling,
he said; when he felt that way, why he would tell them so, but until
then they had better leave him alone.” “Did the Vigilantes send a
committee,” further inquired Frech, “to wait upon him and learn his
pleasure as to whether it would be convenient for him to submit himself
to the decrees of the Vigilant court? And did they go down on their
knees and do homage to him as if he were one of the gods? Did they
inquire if his hair was combed or his face washed or his blouse dusted;
or, did they ask him to tell them in case it was not convenient for him
then to submit to the court, when they might come for him and escort
him in royal style to the place of trial? Did they--?” “No,” yelled
Jack, “they did not care for his pleasure, they seized him unawares,
hurried him to the place of execution, sentenced him, and immediately
fulfilled it by giving him, as he stood upon his head, four buckets of
water and a box of blacking.” And so, mighty is the fall of them that
walk on high places.

The question of bathing now became very important. The extreme heat
and the general conditions were such that, for the preservation of
health, some arrangement for bathing was necessary. It was not long,
however, before the brainy young men from Frisco solved the problem.
Wire screens, which had been used to protect shrubbery, were placed
in position and fastened together, so as to form a square apartment.
They were then covered with sheeting to the height of about six feet.
One end of a government hose was attached to the water-pipe; the
other was carried over the top of the enclosure. The green sod was
used for a floor, and the sky for a ceiling. A more enjoyable shower
bath could not be desired. Two strings led from this bath to the pipe
about twenty-five feet away. To turn the water on, you pulled one
string, to turn it off, you pulled the other. This bath was always well
patronized. Necessity is indeed the mother of invention.

The small annoyances of this life are sometimes the most aggravating.
The little whiskers on Dick Radke’s chin had worried us for some time.
On this day we caught him stroking them. There is a limit to all
patience. We rose in our might and removed them, after an ineffectual
struggle on his part. Private Frech’s well-dyed, tiny mustache came
near meeting the same fate, but he would make no resistance and only
begged for the privilege of removing it himself, so we spared the
mustache.

A number of guns were accidentally discharged while we were in camp on
the Capitol grounds. None of the accidents, however, were attended with
such frightful results as that of the Fourth of July, though there were
several narrow escapes. Corporal Burtis gave the order to load while
standing in front of his squad (he should have been in the rear). One
of the pieces accidentally discharged, the ball entering the ground
about twelve inches in front of him. He will never stand in front of
a squad again and give the order to load. Private Hayes, also had a
close “shave” one night when on picket duty, the rifle of the man next
to him being discharged very close to his head. This is one of the
great dangers to be guarded against. A man cannot be too careful when
he has a loaded gun in his hands. The gun should be always carried
with the muzzle up, but, when loading, the muzzle should be pointed to
the ground. Do not stand in front of a man when he is loading his gun;
watch yourself and those around you. Every man should be well grounded
in these principles by his instructor.

About this time the sick and dying telegrams came pouring in from
anxious parents. The mail was too slow for messages like these:

  “DEAR CHARLIE:

  Mother dying, come home at once.

  FATHER.”

or

  “DEAR WILLIE:

  Father very sick, not expected to live, come home at once.

  SISTER.”

“Come home at once” was the largest part of telegrams whose brevity
made the hair curl. The wires were kept hot with these missives. It
looked very much as if there was going to be a boom in the undertaking
business in San Francisco, and that many of the National Guard would
soon be orphans. The letters received by the boys from their mothers
were generally very tearful, each fond mother praying for the speedy
and safe return of her darling boy. There were a few exceptions,
however, one of our boys receiving a letter that was worthy the Spartan
mother. She called upon him to do his duty manfully and courageously;
she hoped that his conduct in time of danger would reflect credit upon
himself and company. We are happy to say of him that he is a worthy son
of such a mother, for he performed his duties, at all times fearlessly
and well.

Clifford, Al Ramm and Jack Wilson were standing in front of No. 1 tent,
having a little argument as to which of the favorite resorts along the
San Francisco route made the best cocktails, when they heard strange
sounds coming as if it were from the ground beneath their feet. They
got down on their hands and knees, and, with ears pressed to the earth,
listened. They had about come to the conclusion that the noise came
from the water-pipe, which ran along the front of the tents about
four inches underground, when Perry, keeper of the key, and Willie
Overstreet, who had been sitting beneath the tree at the head of the
street discussing the dynamite rumors, approached attracted by the
strange actions of their comrades. An idea, Clifford, he has them on
tap. In a stage whisper, of which Henry Irving would be proud, he said,
“keep quiet boys, I hear them talking.” This gave Al and Jack the cue,
and with grave faces they held their ears to the ground. “What’s the
matter”? asked Overstreet, while Perry looked on with staring eyes and
open mouth. “They are undermining the camp,” said Ramm in a sepulchral
tone. “We’ll all be blown up by dynamite,” wailed Jack Wilson. “Hush,”
said Clifford, with upraised hand, “I just heard one of them ask the
other for a match to light his pipe.” In a trice Perry and Overstreet
had their ears glued to the ground. What Perry heard confirmed his
worst fears. He was in the act of dashing off to the General’s tent
to give the alarm, when they caught and held him. They reasoned with
him. “Any premature action,” they said, “might be the death of them
all. They must be very circumspect, as the strikers might be watching
their every movement, and, should their suspicions be aroused, the
earth might open up at any moment and the whole camp be blown skyward.”
It was finally decided that a committee be appointed to wait upon the
General after dark and break the dreadful news to him, as gently as
possible, for he was hardly over the effects of his late illness, poor
man, and nervous prostration might be the result. All that afternoon
the new danger which menaced the camp, was the subject of discussion.
The relative powers of giant powder and dynamite were debated; Clifford
declaring that enough dynamite could be put into the mine to blow the
camp, and even the Capitol itself, off the face of the earth. The
nervous strain Perry and Overstreet were under all the afternoon was
comical to see, particularly Perry, who tugged excitedly at a mustache
that wouldn’t make a decent pair of eyebrows. Night came on. It was
growing late. Quiet had settled o’er the camp. All lights were out,
save the candle that burned dimly in Jack Wilson’s tent. Wilson had
retired to his blankets, but Perry and Overstreet still sat up, talking
over the events of the day. For them there was no sleep. The silence of
the camp was now oppressive and deathlike, when suddenly Billy O’Brien
burst into the tent, breathless and wild eyed, saying, that the Colonel
had ordered him to get twelve men to dig into the mine, and, as they
were awake they should at once report to Lieutenant Lundquist, in the
Captain’s tent, and be supplied with pick and shovel. Counseling them
to make no noise for their lives and to hurry, he dashed off again.
Poor Overstreet, gave a deep groan and nearly fainted, while Jack
Wilson said, he did not like the job a bit, springing dynamite mines
was not in his line; he wished that he was at home, but, as he was
ordered, he supposed he’d have to go. Perry said nothing, but was doing
some powerful thinking. Jack left them and proceeded to the Captain’s
tent, where a crowd of choice spirits were collected, awaiting the
coming of Charley. And he came buttoned and belted, with a bayonet at
his side, ready to do or die. He saluted the Lieutenant, with nervous
rapidity, no less than seventeen times. The Lieutenant, who had his
head hidden behind a newspaper, was doing his best to control his
feelings; but when Charley asked for a shovel he could stand it no
longer, and burst into a roar of hearty laughter, which was joined in
by the rest of the merry crowd. Charley, seeing it was a joke, beat a
hasty retreat to his tent, and was soon locked in the arms of Morpheus.

As, during the campaign, we had to do our own washing we utilized our
buckets at first, but soon found them too small for the ever-increasing
wash. At the suggestion of Jack Gilkyson, a collection was taken up
and a fine washtub and board were soon in operation. The washing,
which was spread upon the tents and hung upon the guy ropes to dry,
gave the street the appearance of a Chinese wash-house in full blast.
On one occasion Sam Wise had just washed his socks; a little to the
rear of his tent where the operation was performed Lang, Hayes, and a
few others were stretched upon the grass. One and all thanked Sam for
what he had done. Lang, to vary the monotony, threw a very soft peach
at Hayes, which struck him in the ear and spread in all directions.
Hayes seized Lang, and, in the struggle which followed, they neared the
bucket which contained the soapy water in which Sam had just washed his
socks. At this opportune moment, Hayes had Lang in a very advantageous
position; reaching out he upset the contents of the bucket over Lang’s
head, and then did some very pretty sprinting, with Lang in hot
pursuit. In their path stood another bucket of water, which Lang picked
up and threw with a wild swish at the fleeing Hayes; but the bucket
turned in his hands and he received the contents in the neck. Dripping
with water he picked up a scantling, the size of himself, and continued
the pursuit; but the fleet Hayes had by this time reached a place of
safety.

Lang, when on sentry duty, was the admiration of all the boys, he
looked so much like a regular, straight and stiff as a pikestaff, and
about as stout. The way be brought people to a halt was enough to bring
on heart trouble. When he saluted an officer he brought his piece to
the carry with a snap that startled the horses in the street. His great
ambition was to become an orderly for General Ruger.

This brings us to the great indignity which was put upon the Keeley
Club, an indignity that will be remembered by its members as long as
the memory of it lasts. Their High Priest Lang and P. J. Kennedy,
another prominent officer in the organization, were summoned to
Quartermaster Cluff’s tent. From this tent all good things flowed,
particularly the beer. Visions of oceans of it, enough to satisfy even
their thirsty souls floated before their sight. With light hearts and
willing steps, they sped towards the tent. Yes, there was the keg,
clothed in a bag of ice, just discernible within its shade. Its bright
brass faucet shining in the distance like a star of hope. See! the
quartermaster is slowly drawing a bowl of the amber fluid; ah! how
refreshing it looks. The feet that would rather run than walk on such
occasions soon brought them to their destination. They saluted in their
best style; the quartermaster saluted. Lang’s face broke into its
most insinuating smile, while the Yolo Farmer mopped the perspiration
from his classic brow with a linen napkin, and remarked that it was
very warm. All this time the quartermaster was sipping his beer with
exasperating leisure; between sips making very commonplace queries.
He remarked that Lang looked very thin, but that Kennedy seems to be
getting stouter if anything. Great God! their tongues were cracking.
Would he never get through, and invite them to slake their burning
thirst? But everything has an end. Finally with a sigh of satisfaction
he put down his glass, and disappeared from before the wondering eyes
of Lang and Kennedy into his tent, from which he soon emerged, pick in
one hand and shovel in the other, and placing them in the passive hands
of our now paralyzed comrades, bade them follow him. Some fifty feet
away he halted, pointed to the ground and commanded, “Dig,” and they
dug. For hours these gentlemen, strangers to hard work, delved into the
earth, under a broiling sun, like common laborers.

[Illustration: THE YOLO FARMER AND HIGH PRIEST AT WORK.]

The boys’ funds were getting low about this time; in fact a great many
left town without any funds, at all. Clifford was known to be in a
chronic state of financial debility. When he marched down the street
jingling in his pocket a bunch of keys which sounded like many silver
dollars crying forth, “spend me”; he was questioned on all sides as to
where he made the raise. “Oh”! said he, “I’ve just been up to Adjutant
Williams’ tent, and got a little advance.” “What”! they exclaimed, and
waiting for no more they immediately made a bee line for the adjutant’s
tent. The adjutant loves a joke as much as any one, and, though puzzled
at first, soon understood and put the boys off with various excuses.
He told Billy O’Brien, who was a most earnest applicant, that the
paymaster had a breakdown on his way to camp, and would not arrive for
some time. Billy went away, and when surrounded by his tent-mates, who
anxiously inquired as to his success, quoted the following lines from
Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon, for their delectation:

  “And though up late an’airly
  Our pay comes so rarely
  That divil a farthing we’ve ever to spare.
  They say some disaster
  Befell the paymaster
  ’Pon me conscience I think the money’s not there.”

Very late Saturday night we were joined by the great artist on the tin
whistle, and star Dutch comedian, Doc Sieberst, and private William
O’Malley, attached to the hospital corps. Doc was besieged for news
from all sides. Hayes did his best to lure him into the Keeley tent,
where a small riot was in progress; but the providence that is said to
watch over children and drunken men had the Doc in mind that night.
We saw the famous tin whistle gleaming in the moonlight through the
lacings of his leggings, and ever after our marches, to and from town,
were enlivened by its music. The boys were all delighted next morning
to see the honest, open-work Irish face of O’Malley amongst them. Up
to this time we had no wires attached to the hospital tent. Now things
were different. A lot of us got taken very badly with malaria, and
every morning we went to the hospital tent to get our quinine.

Among the members of the City Guard it is a case of one for all, and
all for one; and Doc O’Malley’s connection with the hospital tent
brought joy to B street in more ways than one. Beer was plentiful
in the hospital tent; the doctors not only drank it themselves, but
required an extra allowance for the patients. Under these conditions,
however, patients increased at such an alarming rate that the Doctors
decreed that beer was bad for the sick, and consequently they had to
drink the extra allowance themselves. Though men of great capacity
they were unable to get away with two barrels daily. This fact was
known to O’Malley, who imparted it to the good-natured and burly Teuton
Rupp. In the dead of night Rupp stole forth, bucket in hand, and,
after a careful reconnoissance, invaded the hospital quarters. He soon
returned to the street with the bucket full of the foaming beverage;
then beneath the folds of the Keeley tent followed a scene of subdued
but exquisite enjoyment. The bucket empty, Rupp and High Priest Lang
sallied forth again, with a parting request from Corporal Burdick to
bring the keg along this time. Lang, with fine sarcasm, asked him if
the contents of the keg wouldn’t do him? This time the keg was emptied,
and the return of Rupp and Lang was the occasion of renewed enjoyment.

Monday, July 8th, we went swimming in a body. Arrangements had been
made with the bath-house keepers the day previous by Lieutenant Filmer,
every thing was lovely. The boys had a great time plunging and diving
in the tank, and playing tricks on one another. It was here discovered
that the brave and fearless Gille was the greatest of cowards in the
water. Antonelli has dallied so long with other liquids that water is
an unknown quantity to him, particularly a tank of it; and any attempt
to duck him completely stampeded him. His frantic efforts to get away
from his pursuers were the cause of much hilarity. This aversion to
water is strictly Democratic in its character.

This night we were reinforced by Tommy McCulloch, another young man
with pill-rolling aspirations. We have taken time by the forelock and
already call him and his side partner, O’Malley, Doc.

Monday morning the following proclamation was issued by President
Cleveland:

 WHEREAS, by reason of unlawful obstructions, combinations, and
 assemblages of persons it has become impracticable, in the judgment
 of the President, to enforce by the ordinary course of judicial
 proceedings the laws of the United States within the State of
 Illinois, and the city of Chicago, within said State; and

 WHEREAS, that for the purpose of enforcing the faithful execution of
 the laws of the United States in the State and city aforesaid the
 President has employed a part of the military force of the United
 States,

 Now, therefore, I, Grover Cleveland, President of United States, do
 hereby admonish all good citizens and persons who may be or may come
 within the city and State aforesaid against aiding, countenancing,
 encouraging, or taking part in such unlawful obstructions,
 combinations, and assemblages; and I hereby warn all persons
 engaged in or in any way connected with such unlawful obstructions,
 combinations, and assemblages to disperse and retire peaceably to
 their respective abodes, on or before twelve o’clock noon of the ninth
 day July, inst.

 Those who disregard this warning and persist in taking part with a
 riotous mob in forcibly resisting and obstructing the execution of
 the laws of the United States, or interfering with the functions of
 the Government, or destroying and attempting to destroy the property
 belonging to the United States, or under its protection cannot be
 regarded otherwise than as public enemies. Troops employed against
 such riotous mobs will act with all moderation and forbearance
 consistent with the accomplishment of the desired end, but the
 necessities that confront them will not with certainty permit
 discrimination between guilty participants and those who are mingled
 with them from curiosity and without intent. The only safe course,
 therefore, for those not actually and lawfully participating is to
 abide at their homes or at least not to be found in the neighborhood
 of riotous assemblages.

 While there will be no hesitation or vacillation in a decisive
 treatment of the guilty this warning is especially intended to protect
 and save the innocent.

 IN TESTIMONY WHEREOF, I hereunto set my hand and cause the seal of the
 United States to be hereto affixed. Done at the City of Washington
 this eighth day of July, in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and
 ninety-four, and of the Independence of the United States of America
 the one-hundred and eighteenth.

 By the President, GROVER CLEVELAND.

 W. Q. GRESHAM, Secretary.

All day, Monday and Tuesday, the President’s proclamation was the
absorbing topic of conversation. We felt, that it was no more nor less
than a declaration of war against the existing state of lawlessness,
and that the long-threatened storm was soon to break. That we were
to be reinforced by the regulars was now an assured fact, and their
arrival was looked for daily. The flame from the torch of the strikers,
that had laid property, worth millions of dollars, in ashes at Chicago
leaped to the telegraph wires and swept across the country, firing
the Sacramento strikers with a reckless spirit of lawlessness and a
resolution to sustain their position at any cost and by any means. We
felt that our present inaction would soon give way to more stirring
scenes, the serious nature of which would admit of little joking.

During all this excitement the leaders of the Keeley Club were very
busy spreading the principles of their doctrine; and were so successful
that numbers of applications for admission to the charmed circle of
the flowing bowl were daily received. Tuesday morning, after receiving
their usual doses of malaria-killing quinine from the hands of Dr.
O’Malley, High Priest Lang, Drs. Kennedy, Hayes and Burdick had a short
consultation, and decided to take immediate action with reference to
the applications that had been received. Secretary Hayes was instructed
to inform all the applicants that an open meeting of the Keeley Club
would be held that afternoon at two P. M. in the German tent.

The occupants of the German tent at once began to make preparations
for the reception and entertainment of their distinguished guests. A
collection was taken up and William Baumgartner intrusted with the
perilous task of buying a keg of beer, and transporting it to the
tent. This he did with much boldness and address. The meeting of the
Keeley Club was now an assured success. Two o’clock found an overflow
gathering at the German tent. With the diplomatic view of getting
those present in the proper state of mind for what was to follow, to
prepare the soil, as it were, for the seed, Dr. Burdick suggested, that
as the heat was very great, and every one in a chronic state of thirst,
it would be well to serve some liquid refreshments. This suggestion
met with approval from all sides and “Punch” Zimmerman did Trojan work
for the next ten minutes at the tap. With a few well-chosen remarks
Al Heeth presented the Hon. Dr. Lang, High Priest of the Inner Circle
of the Flowing Bowl, whose appearance was greeted with a hearty round
of applause. The learned doctor, in an eloquent address, punctured by
applause, and numerous invitations to imbibe, which he did not let the
dignity of his office prevent him from accepting, dwelt on the history
of the Keeley Club, past and present, comparing the present gathering
to the Bacchic meetings and revels of the dim and classic past, and
growing poetic quoted from “Alexander’s Feast,” by Dryden:

  “The praise of Bacchus, then the sweet musician sung,
  Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young.
  The jolly god in triumph comes,
  Sound the trumpets, beat the drums;
  Flushed with a purple grace
  He shows his honest face;
  Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes,
  Bacchus, ever fair and young,
  Drinking joys did first ordain;
  Bacchus’ blessings are a treasure,
  Drinking is the soldiers’ pleasure;
  Rich the treasure
  Sweet the pleasure
  Sweet is pleasure after pain.”

Returning to the living present he spoke of the many enduring benefits
derived from being a member of the Keeley Club. He said that it
filled him with great pleasure to see that the efforts of himself and
associates were not in vain, the attendance showed the sympathy and
interest that was taken in the movement by the applicants. Furthermore,
he thought it would be well, on account of the number of applications,
to form the club into branches, and that the first branch be called
the German branch in honor of the tent in which it was formed. This
suggestion met with hearty approval, and the work of organization was
immediately begun. At the expiration of the solemn ceremonies connected
therewith Private Flanagan of the Irish tent arose, and, after
congratulating the learned doctors of the Keeley Club on the success of
the meeting, invited all present to attend a pink tea that would be
held in his tent that evening at eight P. M. Dr. Lang arose, and, with
a breast heaving with suppressed emotion, said that he felt gratified
and honored that his efforts and the efforts of his comrades had met
with the distinguished approval of a gentleman who could boast of such
royal lineage as Mr. Flanagan. The liberal invitation extended to all
betrayed the true prince’s heart, and, on behalf of the members of the
Keeley Club, he accepted the invitation with great pleasure.

The members of the Irish tent for the rest of the day were actively
engaged making preparations for the evening’s entertainment, and not
until a certain dark object was rolled beneath the flap of their tent
did they cease their labors. Soon after supper those desirous of
getting front seats began to arrive, among them being Van Sieberst,
Gillie, Dick Radke, Sam Wise, and Jimmy Wear. By eight o’clock the tent
was crowded to suffocation; the flaps were then raised, so that those
who could not get in could hear and see. In the middle of the tent,
resting on a cracker-box, was a mysterious object, draped in a flaming
red comforter, a color dear to the heart of every true Keeley. Upon
this object the eyes of all were centered, and many and varied were
the comments concerning it. Henry Adams said that it was so short and
broad it might be a statue of Grover Cleveland. “That’s about the size
of him,” said Doc O’Malley, who had seen Grover from a distance during
his short stay in Washington a year previous. “Mentally or physically”?
inquired Max Claussenius, who likes to delve in the abstract. But the
way some of the boys cuddled up to it was sufficient proof that it was
not a cold and lifeless statue, and the general conclusion was that
it must be the pink tea. Mr. Bannon made the address of welcome, and,
amid wild applause, unveiled that which had been the object of so much
curiosity, revealing a nice, plump keg of hop juice. Jimmy Wear, by
acclamation, was placed in charge of the liquid refreshments, and spent
a very busy fifteen minutes. After a few variations on the whistle
by Doc Sieberst, Dr. Kennedy arose and stated that on account of the
extreme hoarseness of Dr. Lang, occasioned by his oratorical efforts
during the day, he had been requested to say something in reply to the
graceful remarks of Mr. Bannon. After speaking in complimentary terms
of the nature of the entertainment, and the large audience present,
he referred to the absence of Sergeant Kelley, Privates Crowley and
Hayes, who were called away to do extra picket duty, and who were at
that moment, with sleepless and vigilant eye, guarding the camp. He
said, that greatly pleased as he was with the result of the afternoon’s
work, it would be a crowning joy could he this evening create the
nucleus of another branch of the beloved order, and advanced the idea
that had been put into effect with so much enthusiasm in the afternoon
by the members of the German tent, and call the new branch, the Irish
branch. (Prolonged applause.) Continuing, he dwelt upon the happy
results obtained by belonging to the organization, and the great
benefits from an intellectual point of view; to breathe the same air,
imbibe the same liquids with such intellectual giants as Dr. Burdick,
Antonelli Gille, Sam Wise, and Joe Keene would result in permeating
them with all the knowledge of the ancients and moderns, books could
be thrown to the wind while sitting at the base of such monuments
of learning. Amid the wildest applause Mr. Flanagan gravely arose,
like a knight of old, and thus addressed the assembly. He said he was
satisfied that the forming of the branch suggested by Mr. Kennedy,
would meet with the hearty approval of every man in the Irish tent.
As for himself he had been always a Keeley at heart, their principles
had at all times filled him with admiration. The organization that
contained in its by-laws that shining legend, “An invitation to imbibe
is always in order,” deserved the commendation of every thinking
man. He had only one request to make, and that was, that the circle
composed by the members of his tent be called after his great ancestor,
Ireland’s greatest king, Brian Boru. The enthusiasm at this point
beggars description; the stirring words of Mr. Flanagan brought every
man to his feet, and, amid great cheering, a bumper was drank to the
welfare of the Brian Boru Lodge, of the Irish Branch of the Keeley
Club. Through the storm of cheering the inspiring air, of “The Harp
that Once Through Tara’s Halls,” burst upon the gathering rendered
by Doc Sieberst on the tin whistle. After order was restored the
initiating ceremonies were gone through, and the rest of the evening
given up to song and recitation.

Taps put an end to their revelries, and, after many congratulations
on all sides, each man went to his tent and soon the stillness of the
night settled o’er the camp.

This silence was suddenly broken in upon by an uproar created by Sam
Wise. Sam had gotten a little mixed when he retired, and, instead of
disposing his body inside the tent, had become turned about and the
most part of him was sticking out through the rear of the tent into G’s
street. A guard passing down the street stumbled and fell on him. Sam,
thinking he was being assaulted by the enemy made such a violent effort
to beat off the imaginary foe, that he nearly dragged the tent down
upon his comrades, at the same time yelling lustily for help. It was
some time before he was quieted, and finally fell asleep.

Thus did this day come to a close, a day that will shine forever in the
annals of the Keeley Club, a day crowded with pleasant memories, a day
on which two lusty branches had put forth from the parent trunk, to
grow, to blossom, and to bear fruit.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

CHAPTER VI.

GENERAL EFFECTS OF THE STRIKE.


In the previous chapters we have treated of the situation and the
movements as confined to Sacramento. It is now our purpose to declare
an intermission and treat of the situation as represented in other
parts of the country as well as in other parts of California, thus
bringing the different threads of the same movement to an equal level,
before taking up the thread of the narrative again in Sacramento.

The strike involved three-fourths of the United States, and it was not
long before it passed the bounds of legality. No unprejudiced person
will ever deny to the workingman the right to strike; and, as long as
he confines his labor troubles within the strict letter of this right,
positive advancement can not fail to attend his efforts; but, when
he adds to this acknowledged right the right to indulge in acts of
incendiarism, robbery and even murder, then defeat will surely be his
goal. Never before, in the history of the country, with the exception
of the Civil War, was the United States ever menaced by a movement so
fraught with danger and terror as this. It had become something of far
greater importance than a mere quarrel between railroad corporations
and their employees over a matter of wages; it amounted to an armed
rebellion against the laws of the United States. Good men shuddered as
they caught glimpses in the struggle of a future condition of affairs
in which anarchy would reign supreme, and in which the stability of
our government would be shaken to its foundation. Let us hope that this
will never be; but rather, that the workingman will see that this form
of government, which is essentially for the people and by the people,
and his own development depend upon the adaptation of his growth to
the growth of the laws. All over the country the lawlessness of the
strikers was something fearful. The extent to which desperate men will
go and the violent deeds they will resort to when their evil passions
are aroused passeth all understanding. They lose all respect for the
laws; and the dread consequences which attend their infringement have
no terrors for them. They are inspired with a hatred for the troops.
A National Guardsman is an object of especial aversion to them. When
defeat stares them in the face they will work out their disappointment
upon innocent persons, and the torch of incendiarism applied almost
indiscriminately to property, with pillage and carnage, illuminate the
last scenes of the conflict.

The state of affairs in the other affected cities of the East was but
a reflection of the situation in Chicago, and, as it would be utterly
impossible to give within the present limits of this work a separate
account of the strike and its effects in each of these places, and
further, as there is a universal resemblance in the effects of the
strike throughout every affected section of the country, it will be
sufficient for an intelligent understanding of the situation in the
East to give in outline the situation in Chicago.

On the same day that the regulars were ordered to Los Angeles the
Federal troops stationed at Fort Sheridan were ordered into Chicago.
This force was steadily increased until it amounted to a thousand men
under the command of General Miles. Concerning the occupancy of Chicago
by the regulars a wordy dispute arose between the Governor of Illinois
and the President of the United States. Governor Altgeld, in protesting
against the presence of the troops in Chicago, stated that it was an
invasion of State rights. Illinois, he said, had enough troops of her
own to quell any disturbance that might arise within her borders.
President Cleveland, however, maintained in his position, by Attorney
General Olney, refused to withdraw the troops, as he deemed their
presence necessary for the execution of the laws. The National Guard
of Illinois was not really called out until later in the struggle.
The regulars found little difficulty in dispersing the strikers; but
the dispersions only had a tendency to drive the strikers to other
points where they continued their depredations. Beside the regulars
there was a small body of militia in the field. But, in spite of this
force, the strikers seemed all powerful and masters of the situation;
for when the city’s health was threatened by the stench that arose
from the dead carcasses remaining uncarted away at the stockyards, the
Mayor of Chicago, in order to have them removed by rail, was forced to
appeal to Debs for permission to do so. Rioting also went on apparently
unchecked. In the suburbs of Chicago numerous fires were seen blazing.
The yard of the Panhandle Railroad Company was put to flames and a
million dollars’ worth of property destroyed. The situation in Chicago,
on July 6th was heralded by the San Francisco _Daily Examiner_ thus:

  FIRE AND PILLAGE

  Wild Work of Destruction by
  Thousands of Rioters
  in Chicago

  From Daylight to Midnight Mobs Hold
  Possession of the Railroad Yards

  The Torch Applied to Hundreds of Cars and Untold
  Quantities of Merchandise Destroyed

  Six Persons Killed and Innumerable Wounds From
  Clubs, Bayonets, and Rocks The Day’s Record

  A WILD CARNIVAL OF CRIME

On account of the troops in the field being insufficient to hold the
strikers and prevent them from destroying property Mayor Hopkins called
upon Governor Altgeld for further military assistance. So, on July 6th,
two brigades of the National Guard, Illinois, were ordered into Chicago.

On July 7th the strikers had their first conflict with the National
Guard, and the streets of Chicago became moistened with blood. A mob of
strikers, 8,000 strong, bent on mischief was gathered around the Grand
Trunk round-house with the intention of burning the same. Company F,
of the Second Infantry, National Guard Illinois, commanded by Captain
Kelly, was ordered to the spot, and succeeded for a time in forcing
the crowd back. The mob becoming larger and more aggressive the troops
began to withdraw and in a corresponding degree as the troops withdrew
the strikers became more abusive, and finally commenced to throw
bricks, stones, chunks of coal and coupling-pins at the troops. Under
this heterogeneous fire the men behaved nobly and remained under the
strict control of their officers. Several times the advance of the mob
was stopped by being steadily met with elevated rifles. But patience is
an exhaustible quantity, so, when the second lieutenant of the company
was struck upon the head by several stones and felled to the ground,
the men were immediately given the command to charge. One of the
strikers with his hand in the air, in the very act of throwing a chunk
of coal, had a bayonet plunged through his body. The mob gave away
before the charge, but quickly rallied and discharged a number of shots
at the troops. No further orders were needed by the men. Rifles were
leveled and a sheet of lead mowed down the front rank of the strikers.
The mob then fled in the wildest confusion. Too much credit cannot
be bestowed upon this company for the manner in which it behaved. No
company of regular troops ever acquitted themselves with greater honor,
and none showed more loyalty and courage. May their example be ever
imitated by the rest of the National Guard.

On July 8th the President’s proclamation was issued, the text of
which has been set forth in the previous chapter. From this time on
the strike in Chicago and in the East moved gradually toward the
catastrophe, while on the surface it appeared all the time to be
getting greater in magnitude. A new element which resembles somewhat
the last kick of the mule was now about to enter upon the stage.
President Sovereign of the Knight’s of Labor threatened to inaugurate a
general strike. A sympathetic strike, to be a factor in the settlement
of a direct strike, must be so related to it as to directly influence
the person against whom the direct strike is waged, either by
preventing him from manufacturing his goods or else from disposing of
them. But when workmen threaten to inaugurate sympathetic strikes of
the third, fourth, or fifth degree, which can only affect the person
against whom the direct strike is waged in an indirect way, if it
affects him at all, they threaten to inaugurate movements which contain
within themselves the germs of suicide. How absurd it is to inaugurate
a strike among the journeymen tailors, because their employer furnishes
clothes to the man who sells groceries to the person who operates mines
which supply coal to the railroad companies that use Pullman cars. This
string might run back in _ad infinitum_.

The arrest of President Debs on July 10th added another force to
increase the downward impetus of the movement towards the end. This,
together with the failure to make good the threat to order a general
strike and especially the proposal made by Debs to the railroad
companies, and which was not accepted, to declare the strike off
provided the men were allowed to return to their old positions, gave
evidence of an early dissolution of the strike. And though the strike
was not settled until sometime later, and while rioting did not cease
though it became lesser in degree, until the very end of the strike,
still the ranks of the strikers from this time on became gradually
thinned out and the men showed a strong inclination to return to work.
It might be said that the climax of the strike in the East was passed
on July 10th.

And now for the situation in California other than in Sacramento.
The news of the success of the strikers in Sacramento was received
enthusiastically by the public all over the State. So great was the
hatred of the public for the Southern Pacific Company and so warm
was their sympathy for the strikers that when the _Examiner_, a San
Francisco daily, placed upon their bulletin-board a notice of the fact
that the first train that left Sacramento since the commencement of the
strike had been derailed and a number of soldiers killed, the crowd
standing in front of the bulletin-board actually cheered for what was
one of the most heinous crimes ever perpetrated. The public seemed
to be lost to every sense of right and wrong. Upon the great body of
strikers the retaining possession of the depot against the attempts
of a large body of the National Guard to dislodge them had a very
marked effect. It made them very confident and defiant. They evidently
believed that the possession of the depot was of the very greatest
importance, and since the first attempt to dislodge them had resulted
so successfully for them, they were determined to hold that advantage
even though they had to meet a further advance of the troops with their
own weapons. These sentiments were expressed by most of the strikers
but it was extremely doubtful, whether when the time came, they would
put them into practice. It is certain that none but the most desperate
would.

Dunsmuir and Truckee are conceded to be the hardest railroad towns in
California. The situation at both these places was very one sided, as
none but strikers or their sympathizers were allowed to have anything
to say. The striking railroad employees at these places were of the
most desperate kind and ready to go to any extreme that they thought
would help the cause. These are the kind of men Leader Knox of the
Sacramento Branch of the American Railway Union turned to when it
became known that the National Guard had been ordered to Sacramento.
In response to his call for assistance a train bearing 125 strikers
fully armed, left Dunsmuir at 12:20 P. M. on July 4th, while another
train with 100 strikers equally well armed, left Truckee at 4:20 P.
M. on the same day. The destination of these trains was Sacramento.
Their journey was attended by the wildest demonstrations. Through
every town they passed they were loudly cheered; bonfires blazed forth
in honor to them and brass bands greeted them with the tune “See the
Conquering Hero Comes.” To show the sentiment of the public toward and
the encouragement it gave to the strikers to perform lawless deeds, the
following extracts taken from the daily papers are given.

 REDDING.--“Two thousand people greeted the arrival of the train and
 gave the committee assurance of their support with men and money if
 needed.”

 “At Red Bluff, Company G of the Eigth Regiment Infantry, stationed at
 Willows, was ordered to stop the train containing the strikers coming
 from Dunsmuir. Half the company on receipt of orders proceeded to
 arm themselves and prepared to intercept the train. This action so
 incensed the citizens that they repaired to the station to the number
 of two hundred, and got in readiness to oppose the militia and see
 that the strikers’ train went on its way unmolested. A conflict seemed
 imminent, when the company received orders to return to their armory
 and disband. When the train arrived, many people of the town and
 country surrounded it, and amid bonfires, firing of cannon, and the
 playing of a brass band, the A. R. U. men were given an oration.”

 COTTONWOOD.--“Thousands of tons of fruit are spoiling here, yet all
 the people in Cottonwood valley sympathize with the A. R. U.”

The military authorities learned of this movement on the part of
the strikers, and Colonel Park Henshaw was ordered, at one o’clock
P. M., July 4th, by Major General Dimond, to call out the troops of
his command and “to intercept and arrest the strikers en route from
Dunsmuir to Sacramento.” Colonel Henshaw immediately, upon the receipt
of these orders, called out Companies A, B, F and G of the Eighth
Regiment, Infantry, N. G. C. The men responded promptly. Two companies
were ordered to deploy along the line of Chico Creek; one on the east
side and the other on the west of the road. A twelve pound Parrott gun,
loaded “with eight and one-half pounds of blasting-powder, the only
kind that could be procured, and twenty-five pounds of one ounce lead
bullets and other projectiles,” was posted in the middle of the track
to sweep the strikers’ train if it failed to come to a standstill at
command. Just as they were in a position to achieve a notable victory
Marshal Baldwin, at Sacramento, fearful that a movement like this would
precipitate things to such an extent that the strikers would retaliate
by burning snowsheds and destroying bridges, asked that the order,
calling upon the National Guard to arrest the strikers, be rescinded.
This was done, and the four companies were ordered back to their
armories and disbanded. The strikers arrived in Sacramento on the fifth
of July.

The strikers began aggressive operations in Oakland on July 3d. On this
day two trains were seized at Sixteenth street and the air-brakes cut.
The regular running of the local trains was stopped; and throughout
the day there was but a spasmodic service. On July 4th the strikers
determined to prevent the moving of any trains on the local system. In
large numbers they invaded the railroad yards at West Oakland, overran
them, took possession of the shops, entered the offices of the yards
and chased out the clerks engaged therein. The self-sacrifice of these
strikers was worthy of the noblest struggle. Like martyrs they were
willing to lay down their lives for their cause. To prevent the running
of the trains they threw themselves, a living barricade, upon the
track, their heads resting upon one rail, their feet upon the other,
and opposed to the iron front of the locomotive their bodies, unmoved
by the fact that their lives depended upon the simple pressure of a
hand upon the throttle of the engine. This was a very dangerous but
still an effective method of bringing trains to a standstill. Engineers
and firemen were torn from their posts with no gentle hand. The Fourth
of July saw things settled, until July 13th, as far as the running of
the local system was concerned.

On the same day, July 4th, a company of regular soldiers, stationed at
Benicia, was ordered to Oakland, while Colonel Fairbanks, commanding
the Fifth Regiment, Infantry, was ordered to assemble his regiment at
the same place. Owing to the fact that no request had been made by
the sheriff for troops, the six companies of the Fifth Regiment were
bivouacked at the armory of Companies A and F of Oakland. When the
troops arrived in Oakland on the evening of the Fourth the situation
had become somewhat quieted, and on July 5th Colonel Fairbanks was
ordered to dismiss Companies A, F and G, “until further orders.” On
July 10th Companies C and E--D having been ordered to San Jose--pitched
camp at Piedmont.

During this interval, from July 4th to July 13th, the strikers remained
masters of the situation in Oakland. It was not until July 12th, that
any signs became evident of a movement to contest their position. On
this day about two hundred sailors and about fifty marines of the
United States Navy arrived at the Oakland Pier, while on the following
day the Second Regiment Artillery, N. G. C., Lieutenant Colonel Geary
commanding, arrived from San Francisco.

On July 6th the sheriff of Santa Clara county made a call for military
assistance, as he had “exhausted all the powers of the county and was
unable to disperse the mob stationed at the depot and yards of the
Southern Pacific Company.” Company D, Captain Elliott, Fifth Regiment,
Infantry, then at Oakland was ordered to reinforce Company B of the
Fifth stationed at San Jose. These troops were placed under the command
of Lieutenant-Colonel Whitton. Owing to the hesitancy of the sheriff of
the county to give an order calling for aggressive movements against
the strikers, in spite of the fact that he was continually urged to do
so by Lieutenant Colonel Whitton, the troops remained inactive until
July 10th, bivouacked part of the time at the armory of Company B,
and part of the time at the fair grounds. During this time Lieutenant
Colonel Whitton received instructions from Major General Dimond telling
him how to act in case he was called upon to do so, which showed that
those officers of the National Guard who conducted the operations on
the Fourth at Sacramento were not beyond redemption, there was one
redeeming feature, they were not too _old_ to learn. Lieutenant Colonel
Whitton’s instructions advised him, that in case he was ordered to go
to the depot, to get the necessary order empowering him to use force to
clear it, “for,” the instruction continued, “if you should go to that
place and then have to go for an order, it might cause a delay that
might be disastrous to yourself and men.”

On July 10th the troops reinforced by Company C of the Naval Reserve,
under command of Lieutenant Douglass, were ordered to the depot and
guards were posted about the round-house and a portion of the yards of
the Southern Pacific Company. The strikers were evidently overawed by
the presence of the troops, as they made no demonstrations of hostility
and, though the militia came to no actual conflict with the strikers,
their presence there was of untold value in keep the riotous element in
check. Both the railroad officials and the sheriff were of the opinion
that were the troops dismissed there was great danger of a new outbreak.

San Francisco was not troubled directly to any extent by the strikers.
Still precautions were taken to prevent them from doing any harm. To
avert the possibility of the strikers securing arms by raiding the
different armories of the National Guard in the city the arms were
either removed to a safe place, or else the armory was guarded by a
strong force, both night and day. And further it was deemed advisable
to keep the Second Artillery Regiment in the city, to guard against
the possible massing of the strikers. So it was not until later in the
campaign--July 13th, that they were ordered into the field.

The southern part of the state now demanded attention. So on July 12th
Brigadier General Muller, commanding the Third Brigade was ordered to
proceed with Companies E, F, and G of his command to Sumner, and from
thence to guard the disputed points on the Southern Pacific Railroad,
between Sumner and Tehachipi, and also to furnish train guards for
trains running north. Brigadier General Muller arrived with his
command at Sumner on the 13th. In preparing his men for active service
he met with the same annoyances, but in a far greater degree than did
the other commands of the National Guard. Many rifles were unfit for
use, firing pins and ejectors being broken, a few old canteens and
knapsacks were all they could boast off. As for blankets and shoes the
brigade was poverty stricken. The men were compelled to fit themselves
the best they could.

To sum up, the following troops were in active service July 12th:
At Sacramento, the First and Third Regiments, Infantry; part of the
Signal Corp and a section of Light Battery A of the Second Brigade;
Companies A, E, G, Second Infantry Regiment; Light Battery B; Signal
Corp of the Fourth Brigade and Companies A and B of the Third Brigade.
At Oakland, Companies C and E, Fifth Infantry Regiment, Second Brigade.
At San Jose, Companies B and D, Fifth Infantry Regiment, Second Brigade
and Company C of the Naval Battalion. At Sumner, Companies C, F, G,
Sixth Regiment, Infantry, Third Brigade. Besides these there were six
companies of regulars at Los Angeles, one company at Oakland, together
with two hundred sailors and fifty marines, while at Sacramento there
were four companies of artillery, two companies of cavalry and one of
infantry.

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

CHAPTER VII.

THE APPEARANCE OF THE REGULARS AND ITS EFFECT UPON THE SITUATION.


The second week, that opened up at the Capitol, found the men somewhat
discontented. There is no rest for the wicked; if the reverse of this
be true, that one who does not rest is wicked, then all the members of
Company B are wicked. The conditions were perfect for resting; lying
awake during the daytime and lying asleep during the night-time made up
practically the twenty-four hours of each day, of most of the members
of the company. And still they were weary. There was no rest for them;
amidst this almost perfect inactivity they yearned to be again at their
daily and peaceful callings:

  “The counter and the desk.”
                     (I. B. Cook.)

Any thing to break the stagnation of doing nothing. Besides this the
men were disgusted with the situation. The strikers held the depot
while they, who had traveled eighty miles to dislodge them from that
place, held down the Capitol grounds. Every day, since the Fourth, saw
the men expectant of marching upon the depot; every night saw the men
disappointed and more disgusted. Is it any wonder that the men were
discontented and strongly desirous of leaving the field of strife?

Inside of the camp of the strikers harmonious relations did not
prevail. Their temporary victory on the Fourth was slowly turning into
a defeat. Its effect had been contrary to what they had expected. The
continued presence of the militia at the Capitol, the announcement
that the regulars had been ordered to Sacramento, the growing stronger
of the opposition of the railroad, all tended to show them the
hopelessness of expecting to coerce the Southern Pacific Company into
submission. Beside this, Poverty, the great ally of the capitalist,
was forcing breaches in their hitherto determined front. A number
of the strikers counting upon a swift victory were ill-prepared to
stand a long siege. Many were now secretly prepared to desert the
cause at the first opportunity. Compromise by arbitration was talked
about, but nothing came of it. With some of the strikers, however,
the hopelessness of success only tended to make them more desperate.
Reinforced by the crowd of armed ruffians from Dunsmuir they were
preparing themselves to resist every advance the troops made against
them, even though that resistance amounted to bloodshed. Such actions
as these could have but one result. Instead of bolstering up the cause
of the strikers it was in reality weakening it. The peaceably inclined
were repelled from such associates and disavowed their relationship
with them. How well these desperate individuals kept their resolutions
will be seen hereafter.

That things were approaching a crisis was evident by the increased
precautions taken to guard the camp. It had been reported that the
strikers were preparing to sweep down upon the camp and capture the
Gatling guns. In order to prevent the camp from being surprised by any
such movement men were selected from each company and detailed to act
as pickets. They were posted a block beyond the line of sentinels of
the camp guard and in such a way that the camp was now guarded by a
double line of sentinels. By this plan it was almost an impossibility
for any body of the strikers to approach within three hundred feet
of the camp without being detected. Sergeant Kelly, Privates Hayes
and Crowley were selected from Company B to act in this capacity. The
strikers on the other hand were also exercising the greatest vigilance.
Every movement made by the militia was carefully watched by the
strikers’ pickets, who were always present in the vicinity of the camp,
and who transmitted any suspicious movement on the part of the troops
to their leaders. And, if the movement was of sufficient importance,
three shrill blasts of a steam whistle could be heard; and down all
the streets leading to the depot strikers could be seen hurrying along
to gather there in a body. This great vigilance on the part of the
strikers seemed to give the affair a much more serious aspect than it
really deserved. The establishing of pickets on both sides added to the
reality and picturesqueness of the scene.

All during the week different rumors had been flying around camp.
First it was, that the militia were going to do this, then that; until
finally, on account of their proverbial unreliableness, not much faith
was placed in them. So, on July 10th, when it was rumored about camp
that the regulars would arrive the following day, and that the militia
would be ordered to co-operate with them in securing the depot, not
much dependence was placed upon its authenticity. When, however, later
in the evening each member of the company was notified to hold himself
in readiness to be called at an early hour in the morning, and to sleep
with his rifle at his side, it began to look that after all there
was something in this rumor. It is safe to say that the men retired
that night praying--that is, those who knew how--that the rumor would
become a fact. At three A. M. the men of Company B were awakened by
1st Sergt. A. F. Ramm, and told to dress as quietly and as quickly as
possible. This they did. Save now and again of the murmur of subdued
conversation no one would know but what the camp was wrapped in sound
slumber. On emerging from the tents, an air of mystery seemed to be
hovering around. The day was just beginning to break. The gray dawn
almost isolated us from the world without. Not a wreath of smoke, that
would betoken life stirring in the adjacent closely barred houses was
visible. Now and again could be heard coming along the stone pavement,
breaking the peculiar stillness of the air, the tramp of feet, and
some poor unfortunate would emerge out of the gray gloom and pass the
camp on his way to his daily toil. Here and there could be discerned
the dim form of some vigilant picket. Within the camp men were moving
noiselessly to and fro. Few lights were discernible. Every one seemed
to be awake to the necessities of the hour. They were preparing
themselves for a rapid and noiseless movement; so that they would
be well on their way towards the prospective scene of action before
their absence from the camp was made known to the strikers. As one
now thinks of the events of that morning it seems as if the men were
preparing

  “To fold their tents like the Arabs;
    And as silently steal away.”

The men were awakened at this early hour, so, that when the order for
marching did come no time would be lost.

During the hours of the night while the men slept the gods were busy.
A load of haversacks and canteens had been brought into camp during
the night. These haversacks and canteens, which are the same as are
used in the regular army, were distributed among the men, every man
receiving one of each. Provisions, consisting of canned corned beef. O!
blessed Corned Beef would that thou wert never made, and crackers, were
then packed in the haversack for future use, while the canteens were
filled with coffee. The usual march up town for breakfast was omitted
this morning and a rough and ready meal of sandwiches and coffee was
substituted in its place.

While busy with the preparations for marching, the members of the
company had failed to notice how silently and unperceived the day had
crept into existence. The sun was now slowly rising. The apparent dead
and silent world by which the camp had been surrounded was awakening
into life. The windows of the adjacent houses were being thrown back.
Chimneys were emitting their smoke. Workmen were passing by. Up in the
dome of the Capitol could be seen a human form waving a hat to and
fro; first, several times on this side, then on that, then he would
poise it for a few seconds directly in front of him, and then he would
commence again. Inquiry elicited the fact that he was a member of the
Signal Corps, and that from his position of vantage he was transmitting
signals, made by other signalmen stationed at the river, to one
stationed below on the ground. These messages were then carried to
headquarters.

In the mean time preparations had been made to guard the camp during
the absence of the troops. The various details, that composed the camp
guard, were relieved and sent back to their respective companies.
Company H was detailed to take their place.

At 5:30 A. M. the command “Fall in” was given. With the haversack and
canteen slung over the shoulders, the haversack on the left side, the
canteen on the right, and the cartridge belt strapped over both to
keep them from interfering with the movements of marching by swinging,
the company presented a picturesque appearance. On the night of our
departure from the city we were compared to the regulars in the morning
papers thus:

 “There was a marked contrast between the 675 sunny faced expectant
 scrambling young fellows and the 300 bronzed regulars that swung
 along the Oakland mole with clocklike precision.... They moved like a
 machine, passionless, steady, with their eyes fixed on one man, the
 captain. The militia ... went off in a happy fashion as if they were
 starting on an annual summer camping trip. They laughed and called to
 each other as they marched along.”

Had the reporter who wrote the above seen the Company on this morning
he would have recognized that a transformation had taken place. He
would not have found the contrast so obvious. Instead of sunny-faced,
expectant, scrambling young fellows, he would have found bearded
youths, bronzed with heat from the sun, determination written on their
faces, and ready to obey explicitly the orders, be what they may, of
their Captain. Added to all this, he would discover that the places of
the holiday and neatly fitting uniforms were taken by worn and tattered
ones covered with innumerable grease spots and dust. The leggings
he would see had ceased to be new, while the hats he would not have
recognized.

The regiment was formed into two battalions. The first battalion was
under the command of Major Burdick, the second under the command of
Major Jansen. Company B was the left company of the first battalion.
The ambulance corps were divided into two sections. One section, under
the command of Major Galwey, regimental surgeon, was attached to the
first battalion. The other section, under command of Captain O’Brien,
assistant regimental surgeon, was attached to the second battalion. The
field music was detailed as litter bearers. The first battalion marched
out of the Capitol grounds down L street and took up a position at the
end of L street, which runs perpendicular to the river.

The march to the levee showed the week passed at the Capitol grounds
had not been profitless. Its good effects were seen on both officers
and men. Instead of doing as they did on the Fourth, using their
aftersight, the officers on this occasion used a good deal of
foresight. On that memorable day, it will be remembered, that no
attempt was made to keep the masses that obstructed the passage of the
troops into the depot from being augmented by constantly arriving
forces. This time, however, whenever a halt was made, sentinels were
immediately posted, and no one was allowed to pass through who would
impede the progress of the troops.

While the battalion was on the march, and somewhere near to the place
it was to occupy, men were selected from each company and sent forward
to act as scouts. Privates A. Fetz and Unger were selected from Company
B; Fetz was sent to the left, while Unger was sent to the right. Both
were told to patrol along the next streets parallel with the march of
the battalion, halting whenever the battalion halted. Any commotion
they observed they were to report to the commanding officer of the
battalion. The battalion, arriving at the point of occupation, was
wheeled to the left by fours, formed into line, and halted. “Rest”
was given, and the men, making themselves at ease, proceeded to view
their surroundings. The ambulance corps, it was discovered, had taken
up a position in a small alley running at right angles to the street
of occupation. Here they erected a temporary hospital in anticipation
of a large number of wounded. The young doctors attached to the corps,
and especially Drs. O’Malley and McCulloch, were anxious to try their
instruments and skill upon some one. On the southeast corner of Front
and L streets is a large two-story building occupied by a hide and
pelt establishment. Upon the roof of this building part of the signal
corps, it was found, had established themselves and were busy at
work transmitting signals to the captain of the corps standing below
on the opposite side of the street. To the south of the battalion’s
position, at the intersection of L and First streets, Corporal Burdick
with a squad of braves (?), consisting of Privates Wise, R. Radke, and
Sindler, could be seen on duty guarding the rear of the position by
refusing to allow any one to pass without proper authority. Directly
in front of the battalion on Front street, which runs parallel to the
river, were several trains of freight-cars. Beginning at L street, and
running to the left towards K street, on Front street, was a long, low
platform, which was used for handling freight. Upon a parallel street,
a block to our right, the second battalion was posted. The Third
Regiment was a block farther up still.

It was while the company was thus taking in its surroundings that an
incident occurred which attracted their attention and in which the
captain of the Signal Corps and an employee of the hide and pelt
establishment figured. It was an incident which tended to impress upon
the members the reality and the seriousness of their position. An
employee of the hide and pelt establishment was seen by the captain of
the signal corps in the act of ascending to the roof of the building.
Feeling that every thing depended upon prompt and decisive action, he
drew a Colt’s revolver, and, pointing it at the man on the ladder,
cried out sharply, “Come down from there.” The man turned, looked
at the threatening revolver, then at the one behind it, grew pale,
muttered something about pointing a pistol at a man, descended the
ladder and disappeared within the building. There was no parleying
here about coming down. It was a command that could only be disobeyed
at the risk of life. The moment between the giving of the command and
its being obeyed was a moment of dead silence; the man’s life depended
upon the twitching of a finger. As the man disappeared the members of
the company almost unanimously cried out, “That’s the way to do it.” A
valuable lesson was inculcated into the members which proved of value
later in the day. The “boys” saw that if they were to accomplish any
thing they must be prompt and determined.

Hardly had the undue excitement of the above-mentioned incident
subsided when attention was attracted to a sort of commotion taking
place at a point where Corporal Burdick was stationed. It seems, from
what could be gathered afterwards, that a hack drawn by a spirited
pair of horses came dashing up L street and attempted to pass through
the lines. Corporal Burdick, assisted by Private Wise, was not to be
denied. The horses were brought to a standstill, and Sam Wise informed
the driver that he couldn’t go through. The Jehu explained that his
business was imperative, his fare being none other than the Fourth of
July famous United States Marshal Barry Baldwin. The marshal had to
introduce himself, however, before he was allowed to go through the
lines.

Private O’Brien of Company B, together with several members from
Company G, were now ordered by Major Burdick to force the crowd
that was gathering down Front street until they connected with the
scouts who had been sent along K street. This was done, and a line of
sentinels was formed diagonally across the intersection of Front and K
streets, and a busy time they had of it.

The strange things that some men will do when they haven’t a gun are
beyond all comprehension; but even beyond this is the strange thing
that O’Malley did this morning without his gun. A line of sentinels
was established across M street, holding at bay a large crowd. Inside
of this line our friend, the Doctor, with a red cross pinned upon his
arm to show his superior breed, was pacing impatiently up and down with
the restlessness of a caged lion, his fierce and terrible mien exciting
terror in the crowd. Occasionally he would pause in his wild march
and take a few steps towards the panic-stricken mob; then, changing
his mind, he would turn and continue pacing his beat. A dread silence
fell upon the multitude. Who is this man, this supernatural being? Woe
unto me, they cried inwardly. Take him away! Their terror was further
increased by O’Malley, after casting several dark glances from under
his heavy, lowering eyebrows, suddenly springing forward and grasping
one of their number, a big, burly ruffian, by the throat. Dragging him
forward O’Malley fiercely shouted:

“Give me your gun.”

“I haven’t any,” screamingly replied the fellow, falling upon his knees
and beseeching mercy with uplifted hands.

“You lie, darn you”! And jerking the fellow to his feet O’Malley put
his hand into the man’s pocket and drew out a small-sized Gatling gun.

“Now vamoose,” he said, emphasizing the words with a kick that hastened
the departure.

The crowd, on seeing what had happened, cried out, “A devil!” and fled
in the wildest confusion.[6]

[6] This above account was written by O’Malley, and therefore the
committee do not certify to its accuracy. O’Malley, however, is
generally truthful.

The signalmen, by rolling up their paraphernalia and descending from
the roof, indicated that the regulars had landed. This was verified by
a low rumbling noise coming from Front street. The battalion was called
to “attention” just as the regulars, headed by Colonel Graham, turned
into L street.

The battalion was brought to “present arms.” As the regulars marched
past on the way to the depot each man involuntarily made a comparison
between the National Guardsman and the regular. And it is safe to
say that the result was not overwhelmingly in favor of the regular.
True, the regular on the average, is a larger and an older man, and
walks with a more deliberate and measured stride. But what of this?
The militia has a quicker and a more sprightly step. Besides this,
the National Guardsman lacks the dull passiveness which characterizes
the face of the regular, and which is so often taken by the public
for determination. But this is not determination. Determination is
measured by the strength of the will. The militiaman may not move like
a passionless machine, but that very life which shines forth from his
eyes is the thing that in the hour of danger is going to generate such
an amount of determination that the regular can never possess.

The regulars this morning presented a very dirty appearance, both
men and uniforms being covered with dust. The National Guardsmen had
considered that their uniforms were about as dirty as it was possible
for a uniform to become, but when they compared them to the uniforms of
the regulars they were compelled to say that their uniforms were not
half dirty. The condition of the National Guard uniforms was between
their condition on the night of the Guard’s departure from the city and
the condition presented by the uniforms of the regulars this morning.
The only difference in equipments of the two bodies of troops was that
the regulars carried the Webb belt, while the National Guard wore the
cartridge-box. In this comparison the result is vastly in favor of
the Webb belt. It is capable of carrying more ammunition; it is more
easily accessible, and interferes less with the movement of marching,
especially running. There was one thing about the regulars that the
members of Company B thought worthy of being imitated, and that is the
long, slow, swinging stride. This has been found from experience to be
particularly serviceable for long marches. Concerning the regular army
officers, the transformation was something wonderful. In the dirty and
dusty looking officer no one would have recognized the “petted darling”
of society.

The regulars having marched past, the command “rest” was again given.
The members of the company were soon at ease upon the sidewalks
communicating with each other what they thought about the appearance
of the regulars, and what would be the effect upon the strike of their
entrance on the stage of action. While thus resting, with an easy
state of mind, believing now that as the regulars had landed, that the
climax in the morning’s operations had been reached, and that as the
strikers had not shown themselves by attempting to interfere with the
landing of the troops, that they would not now indulge in any violent
demonstrations in our vicinity, the “boys” were ill-prepared for what
followed a moment later. For scarcely had the tail end of the regulars
disappeared when the members of the company were very much startled at
hearing a shot ring out. As if an electric current had passed through
the entire company and battalion, every man sprang to his feet and his
place in ranks. As the first shot was followed by a second, and that
by another and another, until the firing became a regular fusillade,
the excitement of the men arose correspondingly with the increase of
the fire to a higher and higher pitch. A strange feeling crept over the
men. At last they were going to be tried by fire, and each resolved to
himself that he would not be found wanting. About this time Captain
Cook received instructions to select five good shots from his company
and have them report to Major Burdick. Sergt. A. F. Ramm, Privates
G. Claussenius, Frech, Perry, and Bannan were the fortunate ones
chosen. These, with an equal number of men from the other companies,
were posted by Major Burdick along the line of the freight-cars as
skirmishers, and instructed to fire upon any one who showed himself
upon the opposite bank of the river. The rest of the company was
ordered to the opposite side of the street, and told to stand close
into the side of the building, where they remained until the skirmish
was completely over.

The firing ceased almost as suddenly as it began. The strikers on the
opposite bank of the river had received such a warm reception that
they concluded to withdraw from the game; and it was when one or two
of these worthies would make their way across the opening, with the
intention of making their exit, that the reports of several rifles
would be heard.

It would be a task indeed to attempt to analyze the feelings of the
members of the company. The excitement was very great. To shoot at and
be shot at was certainly a novel experience, but one that was not an
unmixed pleasure. To shoot at was all right; but being shot at is a
questionable enjoyment. The former, however, so outweighs the latter,
that all the members of the company were anxious to be called to the
skirmish line, willing to be shot at for the sake of the pleasure of
shooting.

The effect of the first shot was more violent upon some than it was
upon others. Upon Private Gille the effect was especially marked. He
was repairing the hammer of his gun when the first shot went off. The
thought that in case of a conflict he would be without a gun with which
to defend himself played havoc with his brain cells. It liberated
a vast amount of motor energy, and this running down the outgoing
nerves caused them to vibrate rapidly. His knees knocked against each
other, his fingers trembled violently, his teeth chattered, and his
tongue could only frame, “Somebody fix my gun; I’ll be killed! I’ll be
killed.” Thrusting the gun into the hands of Lieutenant Filmer standing
near by, he excitingly beseeched half the members of the company to fix
his gun. Lieutenant Filmer was all this time breaking his thumbnail
turning the screw of the gun hammer to the tune of “Fix my gun; I’ll be
killed.” Fortunately the gun was repaired, or there is no knowing what
might have happened to Private Gille. The way Gille grabbed the now
useful gun boded ill to the man who invited its contents.

How the world was going with those on the skirmish line was a matter
of speculation. Was it possible that after all the firing no one
was killed or even wounded? Anxiously the company waited for news.
Private Bannan was seen presently coming from the skirmish line, and
on nearer approach it was discovered that his thumb was covered with
blood, and that he was bound for the hospital. Ha! a man wounded? How
did it happen? Private Bannan did not know; he only knew that he was
wounded when he saw the blood. The probabilities are that the wound
was received from the hammer of his gun, though most of the company
would not surrender the idea that it was caused by a bullet. Even when
convinced otherwise they would exclaim, “Well, we say it was done by
a bullet.” For the company to possess a man wounded by a bullet was a
special honor; it was something that could be pointed out to scoffers
with great gratification.

The details of the skirmish were learned from Private Bannan. It
seemed that, just after the regulars had landed, Colonel Barry of the
Third Regiment, stationed two blocks above L street, was fired upon
by a striker from the Yolo side of the river. A part of one of the
companies of the Third Regiment was ordered immediately out upon the
skirmish line and returned the fire. The line was then reinforced by
skirmishers from the first and second battalions of the First Regiment.
About sixty shots were fired. From what Private Bannan could gather,
four or five strikers at least were killed. Later reports proved that
this number was incorrect and that a solitary Jap was the only victim.
The reason why more execution was not done is due to the fact that the
strikers were hidden behind the levee, and, on account of the distance
across the river not being properly gauged, sights were set all the way
from 250 to 600 yards.

When we first took up our position, owing to the earliness of the hour,
there was a comparatively small number of people abroad. But as the
time went on the crowd gathered around the lines became larger, many
strikers being gathered there in response to the three blasts of a
steam-whistle. While the firing was going on the crowd became excited,
and looked as though they might attempt to break through the lines. The
sentinels, however, proved themselves equal to the occasion.

Our friend Dr. O’Malley, who was attached to second battalion station
on K street, at which point the firing was undoubtedly the warmest,
describes the situation as one, while being of liveliest excitement,
was rather uncomfortable for a man who follows the peaceful calling
of prescribing pills. Especially, he says, was his position one of
discomfort when, at the very time the fire was the warmest, some one
called out, “Ambulance Corps this way.” Now, Billy is quite a doctor,
and thought it would be for the benefit of the regiment for him not
to go forward and risk his life together with his skill. He thought,
however, that he would leave it for Doctor O’Brien to decide. So he
inquired, “Shall I go, Doctor?” He did not have to go, Doctor O’Brien
saying “No, Billy, we need you here. Send the field music.”

[Illustration: THE FIRST TRAIN LEAVING SACRAMENTO DEPOT, JULY 11, 1891;
FRIGHTFULLY WRECKED 15 MINUTES LATER.]

How did the field music feel? At first it was a struggle between love
and duty, and duty triumphed. Seizing hold of the litter with nervous
determination, they made their way forward by slow degrees, each step
taken being taken only after they had overcome the strong, glue-like
cohesion between the earth and their feet. At last they arrived upon
the skirmish line in safety, and had just emitted a sigh of relief
when Tommy Eckert, lying behind a car-wheel, cried out, “Down on
your knees”! The four dropped like a shot, and like the ostrich of
the desert, which, when hotly pursued, will bury its head in the
sand, and thus think itself safe from detection, these unfortunate
litter-bearers huddled themselves together on the ground, and crawled
under the litter for protection. Breathlessly, half dead with terror,
they lay there, expecting every moment to hear the reports of musketry.
Gaining a little confidence from the continued quietness, and feeling
desirous of finding out how the situation stood, one of their number,
A. Rupp by name and a German by birth, remembering the story of how a
man deluded a tiger, suggested that they raise a hat on the end of a
fife over the edge of the litter, and thus draw the fire of any striker
who should happen to be laying in wait to pop them. This suggestion,
which was at once followed, resulted in the hat, after being held aloft
for some time, remaining intact, untouched by bullets. Then gaining
still further confidence from this, one of their number quickly raised
his head and glanced over the edge of the litter, but, as if astonished
and startled by his own boldness and rashness, he as quickly dropped
it behind the litter again. No disastrous consequences following from
his hasty and courageous action, he took more courage and raised his
head again above the litter, this time, however, glancing around with
nervous rapidity. Seeing no signs of danger, he excitedly whispered
to his comrades, “quickly fellows, now’s our chance.” At this they
grasped the litter again and made their way hurriedly across the
opening on their hands and knees to the freight-cars, and there, safe
from bullets, behind the protecting wheels of the cars, they sank down
exhausted and helpless. Recovering, they were informed that their
assistance was needed at the other end of the line. They groaned,
and then started courageously down the track on all fours, dragging
the litter after them. By dodging from one car-wheel to another they
finally reached their destination, only to find that the man who needed
their aid was dead, buried, and forgotten.

Hostilities having completely ceased, and not being likely to be
renewed after the prompt action exhibited by the National Guard, the
skirmishers and sentinels were withdrawn. The battalion was then
re-formed and marched back to the Capitol grounds.

The effect of the exciting events of the morning upon the company was
electrifying. The discontented brightened up. Those who had hitherto
prayed for something to occur, which would compel them to return now
could not be driven away. Even the intense longing of Lieutenant Filmer
for one fond kiss from his baby girl was smothered for at least one
week. The men had tasted of the excitement of battle and were eager
for the fray. Their activities had at last found vent. Material had
been gathered that morning which would serve as food for thought for
many a day. Each man on his return from the skirmish had something to
say concerning the novel experience of being for the first time in his
life under fire; something to say of the feelings that ran through him
as the first shot rang out. Men had to relate again and again some
special incident of interest in which they played a large part. Billy
O’Malley was compelled to tell how he, being unarmed, courageously or
in other words by his immaculate gall, took a pistol away from a burly
striker; also how he felt, when the call rang out “Ambulance Corps
this way.” Phil Bannan was obliged to tell how he got his finger cut
or shot as some of the members would have it. Private Gille was given
the opportunity to explain how he took the chill that caused him to
nearly drop his rifle to the pavement. Private O’Brien had to entertain
a select audience with an account of how he relieved an ugly looking
customer of his weapon. Corporal Benny Burdick discoursed to another
gathering how he boldly challenged the United States Marshal Barry
Baldwin. First Sergt. A. F. Ramm had to tell about the men he did not
shoot and the number of shots he fired while on the skirmish line.
Others would relate how, when the first shot was fired, they tightened
their grip upon their rifles and started involuntarily forward. And
still others were discussing the number killed. None, however, were
considering the possibility of being called out again that day for
active duty. But such was the case.

The regulars, on landing, had proceeded direct to the depot. They found
it practically deserted, and entered without opposition. The troops,
once in possession of the depot, the railroad officials proceeded
almost immediately to open up the blockade. A train was made up and
placed under the guard of a detail of regular troops. And at 12:06
P. M. the first train since July 3d pulled out of the depot. Its
destination was Oakland.

[Illustration: THE DITCHED TRAIN, 1 HOUR AFTERWARDS, 3 MILES WEST OF
SACRAMENTO, CAL., JULY 11, 1894.]

The first attempt to break the blockade was destined to result in
fatality. About two miles outside of Sacramento, at Davisville, the
bolts had been withdrawn from the rails of a small trestlework and the
train, trying to cross, was ditched, and four soldiers were killed. The
news of the disaster was immediately sent to Colonel Graham, commanding
the regular troops at Sacramento, and thence spread rapidly. The
cavalry were ordered to hasten to the scene and capture any suspicious
looking characters in the vicinity. By this outrageous crime the
strikers lost more than they ever could hope to regain. Public opinion
and press, which had largely supported them, now, when they saw what
such support resulted in, turned against them. The public recognized
that a strike that carried with it destruction of property and life
must not be tolerated. Even the regular had sympathized with them in
their struggle against the thieving monopoly--the railroad. But now,
woe to the striker who would rub up against a regular. Every man’s hand
seemed to be turned against them.

Colonel Graham was much affected by the news, and resolved to show the
strikers no mercy. Hearing that they had secreted arms in various parts
of the city, he ordered four companies of the National Guard, under the
command of Colonel Nunan of the Sixth Regiment, to search the various
headquarters of the strikers. The companies chosen to perform this
dangerous duty were Companies A and B of the Sixth Regiment, Company B
of the Third, and, as luck will have it, Company B of the First.

It was at 3:30 P. M. when First Sergeant Ramm gave the command, “Fall
in.” As Company B marched out of camp, much envied by the rest of the
regiment, a scene took place in front of the guard tent the memory of
which the “boys” will never forget. Shortly after we had returned in
the morning from the river Company H was relieved from guard duty, and
details were taken from each company to make up the new guard. Those
taken from Company B were Lieutenant Lundquist, who acted as officer
of the guard, Sergeant Kelly, who acted as sergeant of the guard, and
four privates, Gilkyson, Murphy, Flanagan, and Sieberst. Lieutenant
Lundquist and Sergeant Kelly were standing on the right as the company
passed by. Privates Sieberst and Gilkyson were on the left, having been
just relieved from a tour of guard duty. The beseeching look of Van
Sieberst’s face was painful to behold. His wail of “Captain, take me
with you,” was hard to refuse. But it had to be done. Private Gilkyson,
at the thought of being left behind, became perfectly wild and
threatened to whip the first man who addressed him. This happened to
be Murphy, who came up after the company had marched off and wanted to
know what was the matter. It is needless to say that his escape was of
a hairbreadth nature. Sergeant Kelly was another study. He may not have
cursed loud, but he did deep. There was gnashing of teeth as all hope
vanished with the disappearance of the company. Lieutenant Lundquist,
what of him? He too felt the strong desire to be with the boys. But it
is hard to kick against the pricks. So he had to content himself with
guarding the camp. The leaving of these behind was the only thing the
men regretted.

The company halted on the street just outside of camp. Here Captain
Cook, according to instructions ordered Sergeant Clifford to report
to Colonel Nunan. Upon reporting, Colonel Nunan said, “Sergeant, you
are to select from your company four men whom you have the greatest
confidence in, men who you can trust to stay with you in any danger.
We will proceed into town and halt in front of a certain building; at
a given signal from me you are to enter the building with your squad,
and search the house from top to bottom. If you meet with resistance
use force. Seize every firearm or weapon likely to do bodily harm. The
company will remain on the outside, and will respond to any call you
may give for assistance.”

Sergeant Clifford selected as his squad Corporal J. N. Wilson, Privates
Unger, Hayes, and Crowley.

The four companies, two from the sixth, one from the third, and one
from the first, were formed into a battalion, and the command “March,”
was given. The companies proceeded to a building in which was situated
the headquarters of the A. R. U. Company B of the Sixth was detached
from the column and sent to search the building. The other three
companies continued the march. The next halt was made in front of the
Fremont building. Company A of the Sixth was detailed to search this
building. B of the First and B of the third then proceeded to the
corner of Front and I streets. Here the companies were wheeled into
line and halted.

The building to be searched was a two-story dwelling, the ground
floor of which, being one large room, was used for a meeting place
by the strikers. It was removed from the corner of the street by a
three-story building, the first floor being occupied by a saloon,
while, on the left of it, was another two-story building. Owing to the
intimate relation between these three buildings it was deemed advisable
to search all three. Consequently, on account of the increased
magnitude of the search, the original searching squad was increased
by the addition of Privates O’Brien and Bannan and placed under the
command of Lieutenant Filmer. On receiving the signal agreed upon from
Colonel Nunan, Lieutenant Filmer led the way into the building. The
outer door was opened, on demand, by the proprietor of the place, who
invited the squad to step in, assuring them that they would encounter
no resistance. Entering the building, the squad found themselves in a
large room where some fifty men were seated round. Sizing up the the
place, Lieutenant Filmer gave the command, “Search the house.” The
squad immediately spread out, part passing upstairs, while the others
searched the ground floor and basement.

The company was now, for the first time in the campaign, really face
to face with danger. A man’s castle was being invaded. Would he submit
peacefully, or would he resist? This was a question that time alone
could answer.

After the searching squad had been some minutes at work Private Unger
appeared at the door and asked for assistance. Reenforcements were sent
in, and in a few minutes they reappeared, bearing a large number of
Italian swords and sheaths, which they piled upon the street.

In the mean time the crowd began to assemble and press up toward
the building in which the search was going on. Seeing the necessity
of keeping the crowd back, Captain Cook ordered Corporal Burtis and
Private M. Claussenius to clear the sidewalk as far as the corner.

Fixing their bayonets, they advanced upon the crowd and commanded, “Get
back!” at the same time pressing the crowd back with their rifles.
“I live here,” was the response, “Get back!” “Don’t you force me,
I won’t get back, I have a right here.” “Get back or I’ll put this
through you,” emphasizing the commands by giving the refractory ones
several sharp prods in the back with the bayonet, which overcame their
resistance and accelerated their motion towards the corner, where
they stood and relieved their wounded feelings by taunting and jeering
the men. “You people think you’re great, but we’ll fix you yet, coming
up here to down us, eh? By God, we hope you scrubs will get it in the
neck,” and etc.

Beneath this shower of abuse Claussenius and Burtis stood impervious.
Whatever satisfaction the crowd might have derived from jeering, and
thus giving vent to their injured feelings, they certainly derived
none, if such satisfaction depended upon their irritating the objects
of their displeasure, from the men themselves.

Corporal Burtis’ work was much admired by Lieutenant McIver of the
regular army and inspector of the National Guard of California. He
was heard to remark to one of the officers that “that man is a fine
corporal.” Corporal Burtis did not display a single sign of weakness.
His work was characterized by firmness and determination, the essential
elements of a good soldier.

The crowd, seeing it was impossible to get past the sentinels at the
corner, made a wide detour and attempted to gain a position upon a
freight platform on the opposite side of the street. A few succeeded
in doing so, only, however, to be scared into a hasty flight a moment
later. Corporal J. N. Wilson and a private from Company B of the Third
were guarding this platform. The man from the Third had a voice that
would awaken the dead. When he shouted, “Get off there,” it had almost
the opposite effect, it bound them to their seats. But, when the
ominous click of Corporal Wilson’s rifle struck their ears, the spell
was broken, and a rapid retreat ensued.

A line of sentinels, consisting of Corporals Burtis and McCulloch,
Privates M. Claussenius, G. Radke, and W. Crowley, were posted across
the street to the right of the building facing east, while Company B of
the Third was posted similarly across the street to the left and facing
west, both lines holding in check a large crowd.

It might be mentioned here that Company B of the Third did excellent
work on this occasion, and showed that they could be relied upon in any
emergency. They presented a very formidable appearance--big, brawny
fellows. Whatever else might be said, this fact remains, they are
fighters, every inch of them.

Captain Cook, in making a tour of investigation, made the discovery
that in the rear of the buildings being searched was an alleyway
leading out onto a side street. Instantly it flashed through his
strategic brain that the sentinels were not posted to the best
advantage. What was to prevent the strikers from making their exit with
arms and ammunition through this passageway, or what was to hinder them
from receiving reinforcements through it? He lost no time in reaching
the street and remedying this defect. He ordered the sentinels posted
at the corner to force the crowd down I street for about one hundred
feet. The sentinels fulfilled the orders in short notice; a few sharp
commands, a prod with the bayonet here and there, did the work, and
our position was safe. Fortunately the weakness of our position was
discovered before the strikers had the opportunity of making use of
it; if this were not so, there is no telling how the day might have
resulted. What if a crowd of desperate strikers had rushed through this
entrance, overpowered the searching squad, taken away their guns, and
then fired down upon the company in the street, perhaps massacring the
whole body. One shudders to think of what might have happened. But let
it be said that as long as we have at the head of our company a man
whose brain in the time of battle is so clear, so far reaching, and
at the same time so quick, there is no need to be alarmed that such
disastrous results will flow from any neglect to guard our position
well.

Private Tooker, while acting as a sentinel, by his firmness and
unrelentless severity in forcing the crowd back, incurred the dislike
of several of the strikers. On a high-boarded fence near by was a
lithographic poster of Mephistopheles. Pointing to this lithograph, one
of the strikers remarked that Tooker’s face looked very much like the
face of the devil on the fence. This was not at all complimentary, I
can assure you. Tooker is conceded to be one of the best looking, and
at the same time one of the most unassuming, young men in the company;
and the beauty of it all is, that he is unconscious of the fact.
During the late excursion of the company to Stockton an insane man
actually said that he would like to have Tooker’s face, as it was such
a handsome one, and this, let me tell you, with all due earnestness, is
no sign of the man’s insanity. So you can see that the transformation
must have been wonderful for it even to be possible to conceive of
making a comparison between Tooker’s face and that of the devil’s.

It was just after the sentinels had forced the crowd down I street
that the cavalry, which had been ordered to the scene of the wreck,
with instructions to arrest all suspicious characters in the vicinity,
came up I street with a number of prisoners they had rounded up. The
prisoners were on foot in the center of the troop, while behind them,
also on foot, was a line of soldiers urging them along at the point of
the bayonet.

Following in the trail of the cavalry was a large crowd, curious to
see and find out what was going to be done with the prisoners. In
their anxiety to satisfy their curiosity, they were oblivious of every
thing else. As the commander of the cavalry rode through the lines he
told the sentinels to keep back the crowd, which was consequently very
much astonished when their attention was attracted, by a sudden and
unexpected challenge, “Halt,” to the points of the bayonets held by
the sentinels those in front came to such an abrupt stop that those
in the rear almost piled on top of them before they realized what had
happened. The crowd then remained stationary at a respectable distance
from the points of the bayonets, until the cavalry, retracing their
steps, passed through the lines again, when they once more attached
themselves to the rear of the troop and moved away.

While the sentinels were dealing with the crowd on the outside the
searching party, now augmented by Privates G. Claussenius, R. Radke,
Stealy, F. Shula, and Sindler, were having, on the inside of the
building, an exciting time carrying out their instructions. Of the
original searching squad, Sergeant Clifford made the first discovery.
Going directly to the rear of the house, and putting his hand into the
corner of a closet, he pulled out a jar containing several pistols, a
few knives, and some ammunition. Private Hayes was the next successful
explorer. In one of the rooms on the upper floor he ran across a pile
of about seventy Italian swords and sheaths. These were carried to the
street and deposited upon a truck.

The “crust” broken, the searching squad entered into the spirit of
the duty. Every room in the house was thoroughly searched. Doors that
were locked and were not opened on demand were burst open, either with
a swinging blow of the canteen, or else one of the squad would take
a short run and launch the whole weight of his body against it. No
nook in the room was left unsearched. Trunks were opened and their
contents inspected, beds were turned completely over and the clothes
well explored, closets were ransacked and the miscellaneous articles
in them minutely examined. No ceremony was used. And while the search
was thorough, we are glad to say that the searching party, under the
careful eye of Lieutenant Filmer, was particular to replace everything
they inspected in the same condition it was before the search began.

On the rear porch Sergeant Clifford discovered ten sacks filled with
hard material. When he went to examine them carefully a bystander
remarked to him, “It’s only coal.” On examination they were found to
contain a species of coal known as boiler punchings. Sergeant Clifford
called Colonel Nunan’s attention to the sacks, who immediately ordered
them to be taken out.

On the roof of the building were found a number of Winchester rifles
and a quantity of ammunition.

Captain Cook, on examining one of these rifles, noticed that a quantity
of sand was adhering to the barrel, and that there were signs of the
rifle having been recently used. From this he naturally inferred that
it was one of the weapons used by the strikers during the morning
skirmish, but which had been deposited in the building after the
skirmish was over.

Private Bannan, hunting around, stumbled across, in one of the rooms,
a basket of lint, which seemed to indicate that the strikers were
prepared for the worst.

Several times in the course of the search critical moments were
experienced. Some of the lodgers objected to having their rooms
searched, and it was only by a determined front, aided materially by
the click of the rifle, that they unwillingly submitted.

The first building having been completely searched, the squad passed
into the other buildings. Private Hayes discovered a lot of cartridges
on a shelf in the rear of the saloon. He was about to confiscate them
on the behalf of the state, when an outsider interfered, saying that
the property belonged to him, at the same time putting his hands upon
the ammunition. The cocking of Sergeant Clifford’s rifle reminded the
man that his hands were needed some place else.

Private G. Claussenius taught one striker a lesson not to lay his hands
on a National Guardsman with impunity. As Claussenius was passing
through one of the rooms in the rear of the saloon, he was astonished
to receive a shove and a command to get out of here. Turning, he was
confronted by a fierce looking individual who reiterated the command
to get out and made another attempt to put his command into execution.
The attempt was about as far as he got. Claussenius cocked his piece,
and jabbing it up against the fellow’s breast, with his finger on the
trigger ready to fire instantly on the least further provocation, he
ordered the man to get out of the room. The fellow never hesitated, but
in a weakened voice said, “All right, don’t shoot!” and passed out of
the room. The action of this individual reminds one of the following
lines:

  “How many cowards wear yet upon their chins
  The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
  Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk.”

In the natural course of events Private Stealey had a somewhat similar
experience. Meeting one who he took to be a striker, he ordered the man
to throw up his hands, which command was obeyed with great alacrity.
The man, on being searched, justified suspicion, as he was found to be
armed with an ugly looking revolver. It is needless to say that he was
relieved of it.

While the squad was searching the basement of the building, they were
startled to hear from above the report of a gun. For awhile their
position was a peculiar one; hearing, however, no further reports, they
concluded that it was an accidental discharge--which it really was. It
seems that while Lieutenant McIver was unloading one of the captured
Winchesters, a shell was jammed and exploded, the bullet striking the
bottom of the truck, and glancing upward entered one of the sacks of
boiler slugs.

The buildings having been thoroughly searched, the searching parties
and sentinels were called in and the companies re-formed.

Just as we were about to move, an incident occurred which showed how
far a sympathetic strike can be carried. The driver of the truck upon
which the confiscated articles were placed, when told to drive on,
refused to do so and dismounted from the seat. Here was a man connected
in no way with the strikers, except in the larger conception of the
universal brotherhood of man, placing himself in jeopardy merely to
show his sympathy for the strikers. This did not, however, cause any
delay, for the sergeant major of the Sixth Regiment mounted the seat
and manipulated the reins.

The two companies then marched to the corner of Second and J streets,
at which point Lieutenant Filmer again led his merry squad of
searchers out and proceeded to search the Pioneer Bakery. Corporals
Burtis, McCulloch and Burdick, Privates M. Claussenius, Keane, Wise,
and others, assisted by part of Company B of the Third, guarded the
crossing of the streets below the bakery, while Privates O’Brien,
Flanagan, Overstreet, with others of the Third Regiment, formed a line
of sentinels across the street above the building. The searching squad
was made up of very nearly the same men who composed it on the previous
search.

In the bakery, the searching party was met by the proprietor, who
informed them with great solemnity that there were no weapons of
any kind on his premises. In spite of this assurance, the place was
searched, and the results did not harmonize with the proprietor’s
statement. The inside of the building was found to be a perfect
labyrinth. Winding stairways and dark passages in such profusion that
it was extremely difficult to make a thorough search. Besides this,
the dirt and filth of the place was something frightful. It seemed
to be more fit for a pigsty than a dwelling-place of men. Sergeant
Clifford, by feeling his way, managed to reach the roof. On looking
around he saw that the roof of the adjacent building was about twelve
feet higher than that of the bakery. Against the wall of this building
a ladder was leaning; so, thinking that the roof might be worthy of
investigation, he was about to ascend, when he met a lieutenant of the
Third coming down, and who mentioned that there was nothing up there.
The sergeant, knowing that it was impossible for the lieutenant to make
a careful search in the time he was upon the roof, proceeded up, and
was well rewarded for his pains; for there, lying side by side, were
five Winchester rifles, with a pile of ammunition stacked alongside
of each gun. Sergeant Clifford also noticed that brickbats were piled
around the edge of the roof, with the evident intention of throwing
them down upon the militia on the streets. In descending to the ground
floor, Clifford encountered in one of the small rooms a hard-looking
citizen, who he promptly ordered to throw up his hands. On being
searched, the man was found armed with an old powder-and-ball revolver,
of 38-caliber, which was taken away. This Sergeant Clifford still
retains as a memento. In addition, twelve pistols were also found in
the different rooms.

While the search was going on inside, Private O’Brien had a thrilling
experience on the outside. Just above the bakery is a small alley
running perpendicular to Second street, and as far as K. Here a
number of strikers were gathered. These, Private O’Brien, assisted
by a private from the Third, ordered back into the alley, and told
them to keep moving until they reached the street a block above. The
strikers moved back. But when they were about seventy-five yards from
the corner, and near to the street above, they halted and faced about.
Then, drawing revolvers and leveling them at O’Brien and the man from
the Third, they yelled for them to get out of the alley.

The bluff didn’t work worth a cent. O’Brien merely seized a chair,
and, placing it in the middle of the alley with its back toward the
strikers, straddled it, and then, resting his arm upon the back of it,
he drew a bead upon the strikers. The situation remained unchanged for
a minute or so, when the strain proving too great for the strikers,
they turned, fled up the alley and disappeared around the corner,
shaking their fists and hurling imprecations at O’Brien as they did so.

The crowd that thronged around the lines of the sentinels at this
place was much larger than it had been at the former place of search.
The blockaded streets were the principal thoroughfares of the city,
and many persons in the crowd were prevented by the blockade from
transacting their regular business. Some of these became extremely
angry at being stopped. One old, irascible gent, wearing a silk tile,
which gave him a sort of a professional appearance, on being told that
he could not go through the lines, but that if he had any business to
transact he would have to go back and pass around the block, became
very indignant at the thought that he, an important personage, should
be treated like a common, everyday individual. He had to go around the
block, just the same.

The bakery having been thoroughly searched, and the “spoils of war”
deposited upon the truck, the sentinels were withdrawn and companies
again re-formed. The march was then taken up and continued down L
street. Soon, Company B detached itself from the column, and, turning
to the left, marched to the Golden Eagle Hotel, where an excellent
dinner awaited them.

The search, judged from every point of view, was a complete success.
That it was a surprise is evidenced by the fact that no attempt
was made to remove the weapons from any of the buildings. The
probabilities are that the strikers had no idea that a search would
be instituted, and further, that they did not become cognizant of the
movement until the searching party stood before their door. One thing,
above all others, did the result of the search tend to show, and that
is this, that the strikers, if not as a body, still to a considerable
number, were prepared and really intended to engage in an actual
conflict with the troops.

The scene of a truck loaded with weapons of war being driven through
the streets in broad daylight, guarded on all sides by glittering
bayonets, is one that will not be forgotten by the Sacramento citizens
for some time to come. It brought facts home to the people and showed
them that the strike was no peaceful affair, but some thing of a very
serious nature. It revealed the true position of the strikers.

The events of the morning were exciting, but these were even more so.
For on this occasion the men did not have to share the honors with
any one. In the dining-room the noise of the conversation was almost
deafening. To an outsider it would appear as if a Bedlam has broken
loose. Each man had some thing more important than the other to relate,
and consequently each bid against the other for the attention of the
table he was at. Either a man was eating, or else he was talking,
and between the two, his jaw was kept busy. Some were handicapped on
account of not having so many personal experiences as others; but they
made up for it, the one experience they had, they

  “Told; retold it o’er.”

One interesting subject was the manner in which the members of the
company impressed the strikers. Their duty had been performed in such a
way, with such snap and at the same time with such firmness, that the
strikers were kept guessing as to whether they were regulars or the
militia. Surely, the strikers argued, that man, pointing to Crowley,
does not belong to the militia, or that one, pointing to Burtis, or
that one, etc., pointing to Wilson, Keane, Heeth, Zimmerman, R. Radke
in succession, and, above all, that one with the white diamond on his
arm, meaning First Sergeant A. F. Ramm. Surely, he cannot belong to
the militia! Their conception of the National Guard was altogether
different from the appearance of the men. Weak-kneed, narrow-chested,
goose-necked, pale-faced striplings were, with them, synonymous to
the members of the National Guard. These men did not agree with their
conception, so, consequently, they must be regulars. One of the women
in the crowd, that Burtis forced back with no gentle hand, excused
him to the strikers by saying that he could not help it, as he was a
regular.

As soon as the meal was finished the company marched back to the
Capitol grounds. As they passed into camp it was loudly cheered by
the other companies. Company F especially showed its unselfishness by
giving, as a company, three cheers and a tiger for Company B. Upon
reaching the company’s street the men were dismissed, and for the rest
of the evening until taps were besieged, at different times, by nearly
the whole regiment, all anxious to hear about what took place during
the raid.

This night pickets were again sent out. Gilkyson, Hayes, and O’Brien
were sent from Company B. The strikers were as much excited over the
events of the day as were the militia. Just as in the case of any undue
excitement, those people who live out of town will proceed into town in
order to hear the latest news, so the strikers gathered into town that
night in order to discuss the latest phase in the course of the strike.
All the hours of the night and the early hours of the the morning
they passed and repassed the camp in groups. The pickets kept on the
alert for any suspicious move on their part, and had plans formed for
repulsing any advance that they might make. The strikers, however, were
not looking for trouble, as they had enough for one day.

The following morning the company again omitted to take its accustomed
walk for breakfast--it was served on the grounds. From this time on
meals were prepared within the camp. The rapidity with which cooks
sprang up on every hand passeth all understanding. Some were but an
ephemeral growth--they blossomed but to die. Others, however, displayed
a real native gift for cooking, which they themselves hitherto had
never dreamt they possessed. This exhibition of latent genius reminds
one of the lines in Gray’s Elegy:

  “Full many a gem of purest ray serene
    The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
  Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
    And waste its sweetness on the desert air.”

Had the opportunity of developing their genius never presented itself
to them the world would have never known the power that lay within
their mold of clay, and Company B would have been the loser, but
perhaps not the sadder.

About nine o’clock in the morning the regiment was assembled and
marched to the depot. At last we were to enter the long-desired
building. But under what disgraceful conditions! Only after the
regulars had driven out the strikers. How humiliating it was for the
men of the National Guard to walk into the depot under the protection,
as it were, of three hundred and fifty regulars. It should have been
the opposite. Ay, and it would have been so had the rank and file had
their way. But the Fates decided it otherwise, and the militia had to
be content with what “pie” the regulars did not use.

Arms were stacked in the depot and the men given liberty to move about
the building. Observation showed that the regulars had the place well
guarded. Two Gatling guns were placed at one of the outlets, pointing
threateningly towards the crowd gathered around. The building was also
surrounded by a line of sentinels. One of these, a marine, attracted
especial attention by his activity and particularly on account of
an encounter he had with a burly striker who was evidently not very
much impressed with his appearance; for, when told to stand back, he
doggedly refused and made an attempt to draw a weapon. No movement ever
resulted more disastrously to the mover. The marine quickly threw up
his piece, and, catching it by the barrel, struck the fellow a terrific
blow with the stock between the neck and shoulder, placing him “hors
de combat.” Had the blow struck him fairly upon the neck it would have
killed him. As it was, it broke the stock of the gun. The striker was
made a prisoner, and a sorry time he had of it too. The case being
reported, the officer of the day coolly remarked that the next time,
in case of trouble, to use powder and ball, as it was cheaper than
breaking guns.

To be a prisoner in the ordinary sense of the term and to be a prisoner
under the surveillance of the regular army, especially during the
Sacramento campaign, are two entirely different things. One who has
ever undergone the experience of being a prisoner for twenty-four hours
under the charge of the regulars would most emphatically object to its
repetition. The prisoners whom the regulars had rounded up the day
previous to the militia reporting at the depot presented this day a
pitiful appearance. They had been handcuffed together and incarcerated
in one of the small rooms of the depot. Here they stood for twenty-four
hours without being permitted to sit or lie down. The sentinels placed
over them received orders to shoot them if they persisted in doing
so. These were harsh orders, but the occasion demanded them. The
poor wretches were certainly in a dilemma. To sit down was death; to
stand up was almost as bad. This way of dealing with the prisoners
had undoubtedly a salutory effect. The striker, by the time he was
released, learned sufficient to make him extremely cautious in the
future about drawing a revolver, especially upon a marine.

In the depot there was a small dining-room where coffee and buns
could be had for fifteen cents. This dining-room had a fascination
for certain of the “boys”; partly because it had a familiar look, and
partly because the meal that morning was unusually scanty. At any rate,
the place was soon doing a thriving business. Those members of the
guard who did not possess the necessary fifteen per, gazed wistfully
at their more fortunate brethren performing the magical operation of
turning eatables into men. Now, here was a problem for solution; how
were they, without money and without friends, going to participate
in the performance. Dr. O’Malley was the first to solve the problem.
Nor did he find any difficulty in doing so. Seeing no reason why a
man in the service of the state should be denied anything that would
contribute to the comfort of his stomach, he walked boldly into the
place and sat himself down at the counter. He gave the necessary order,
and in such a way that one would think he was loaded down with wealth.
No doubt the proprietor of the place thought of him in this light. But
if he did, how sadly he must have been disappointed; for when O’Malley
had sufficiently satisfied his wants, he called the proprietor to him,
and in a matter of fact way told him that he was sorry but he had no
money to pay for what he had eaten. The man was astounded; but what
could he do? His property was gone and could never be recalled. Grin
and bear it was all that was left for him.

O’Malley never waited to see the effect of his words, but slowly walked
away, as though what he had done was perfectly proper. Not satisfied
with this, he made others acquainted with his solution. Running across
two of the members of the company, who were loudly bemoaning their
sad fate of being without money in a strange land, and thus barred,
as they thought, from disposing of a large cup of extra fine coffee,
he offered to aid them in securing what they wished. Telling them to
follow him, he made his way to the counter again. The proprietor had
hardly recovered from the previous shock, when O’Malley, addressing
him again, saying, “Now, here is an opportunity for you to do an act
of charity. These two men left their homes in such a hurry that they
neglected to take with them any money. Give them something to eat, and
you will be rewarded for it at some future day.” The man collapsed. It
was impossible to refuse such a request, when backed by such a powerful
battery of gall. The men received what they wished for. And O’Malley
was twice blessed. First, he was blessed by the proprietor of the
place. This blessing, however, was of a negative nature. Secondly, he
was blessed--and this was a positive blessing--by his two comrades. The
way being once known, many worked out the problem. It is safe to say
that about half of the business that that coffee establishment did that
day was charged to profit and loss.

At about three o’clock in the afternoon the regiment was formed and
marched to Ninth and D streets. Here it was decided that the First
Regiment should pitch its tents. A lot of work was planned out by Col.
Graham for the militia, and in order that this work be done well, it
was necessary to break camp at the Capitol grounds, and pitch camp near
the field of action. From this time on the men could not complain of
not having something to do.

While we were at the depot orders had been given to each company to
detail six men, one from each tent, to assist in breaking camp at the
Capitol grounds. These details were placed under the command of Captain
Marshall, of Company A, and Lieutenant Filmer of Company B, and marched
back to the camp. The reason why one man was selected from each tent
was that the man selected would see that the property of his tent crowd
was packed together and rolled inside of the tent, so that when it came
to pitching camp at Ninth and D streets each tent crowd would have no
trouble in finding their property. Quartermaster Sergeant Clifford,
Privates Hayes, Overstreet, Baumgartner, Gilkyson and Warren were
detailed from Company B.

Arriving at the camp about noon the detail of Company B decided to
lunch before starting to work. Baumgartner, who is quite partial to
the frothed liquid, and who, at the same time, knew his comrades’
fondness for the beverage, suggested that a magic wand in the shape
of a tin pail and about fifty cents be employed to make the liquid
materialize. Lieutenant Filmer generously contributed the fifty, while
the rest of the detail contributed the pail. Baumgartner was then
passed through the lines, magic wand in hand, in search of a rock to
smite.

While waiting, Quartermaster Sergeant Clifford went about preparing
lunch. It was the same old menu that had been served for seven
days--corned beef, cheese, and bread. The men were used to it now, and
looked for it as they would for the coming of the night. Being a little
short of butter, the Quartermaster hastened to the officers’ mess tent
to see if a slice happened to remain from the morning meal. There
was, “Praise Jehovah,” more than a slice of butter. Boxes, containing
canned oysters, corn, tongue, lobster, prepared beans, and deviled
ham, carelessly left open, met his gaze. His thoughts, as his eyes
lingered fondly upon these delicacies, seemed to say, “You’ll be mine,
by and by.” Hastily opening his shirt, he placed, in a lovable way,
can after can next to his breast. (Anyone who has ever seen Clifford
on an expedition of this kind knows the expansive qualities of his
shirt.) Then, laden with spoils, or rather luxuries, he darted like a
flash down the company’s street into his tent, where that noble box,
could it but speak, would tell of many such takings, was waiting to
receive the treasure. Private Hayes, noticing the hasty move, followed
the Quartermaster, and desired to know where such things could be had.
Learning their whereabouts, he lost no time in also relieving the mess
tent of a fair shirtfull, and then returning to have them stowed away
in the Quartermaster’s box. Sergeant Clifford, not wishing to do any
thing by halves, innocently inquired, “Billy, did you leave any thing?”
Hayes, in surprise, answered, “Why, yes, I think there is a couple of
cans left.” “Well, now, that’s too bad,” says Clifford, and away he
hastened, thinking of the remorse he would have to endure should he
fail to secure those remaining cans. Quickly securing these, he made
another grand bolt for the noble box. Scarcely had he reached his
tent, when Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald entered the officers’ mess
tent; he wasn’t in that tent a second when he staggered backward out
again, his eyes bulging out of his head. Throwing his arms convulsively
in the air, he exclaimed in heartrending tones, “Oh, God! what is
this?” The shock he received was a terrible one. Recovering himself,
the agonizing look on his face gave place to one of fierceness. A
bloodthirsty look came into his eyes. Suddenly realizing Clifford’s
taking propensities, he made a bee line for the company’s street. Woe
to the man upon whom Fitz laid his heavy hand. Hayes, however, was
on the lookout. Seeing Fitz charging for the street, he immediately
warned the quartermaster sergeant that Fitz was on the warpath. Quick
as a flash the box was closed and locked. It was none too soon,
for immediately after Fitz appeared upon the scene perfectly wild.
“Clifford,” he yelled, “did you take any thing out of that tent?”
“What tent?” asked Clifford. The apparent innocence displayed by the
quartermaster seemed to lift any doubt that Fitz entertained concerning
his connection with the affair. So he quickly started off on another
trail. Clifford came very near to owing the company a dollar, for it
nearly terminated in being a complete shave for him instead of a close
one.

Baumgartner having returned from his mission, all hands made ready for
lunch. A couple of cans of oysters and tongue were opened in honor of
the raid on the commissary stores. It is needless to say that the meal
was relished. Right after lunch the men started to take down the tents.
Owing to limited number of trucks the work of removal was very slow.

In the course of the afternoon the brigade commissary sent over for a
few men to carry the commissary stores to the sidewalk, and thence be
loaded upon the trucks. Quartermaster Clifford and Private Overstreet
volunteered their assistance, not, however, from entirely selfish
motives. In the natural run of events they succeeded in relieving the
brigade larder of a number of useful things, such as canned beans,
sugar, potted ham, and soap.

At about five o’clock the work of demolishing was completed. The
details were united and marched to Ninth and D streets, where the
opposite process, of erecting tents, was going on.




[Illustration]

CHAPTER VIII.

THE FIRST REGIMENT AT NINTH AND D STREETS.


On receiving the order to go into camp the regiment was formed at
the east end of the depot and marched down the tracks to Ninth and D
streets, where we were met by the baggage wagons conveying our camp
outfit, tents, knapsacks, etc., from the Capitol grounds, which were
henceforth occupied only by the 6th and 8th regiments.

Headquarters were quickly established on the grounds of a vacant
house occupying the northwest corner of Ninth and D streets, and the
order to establish camp given. Now every thing became a scene of
confusion. Willing hands soon unloaded the baggage-wagons and men
from each company carried the rolled tents to the ground they were to
respectively occupy. Now did the rule of “taking” as established by
that king of vandals, Clifford, again come into use. Far-seeing men
of the Jack Wilson and Sam Wise type, scenting a chance for plunder,
generously offered their services to that greatly worried individual
Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald. Thankfully accepting the extraordinary
offer, he set them to work carrying the commissary stores, including
a great many boxes of pears and plums, into the vacant building in
rear of the headquarters. On this fruit, it soon appeared, had Wilson
and Wise and their cohorts cast an evil eye. Thus does it now appear,
though, in justice to these skillful foragers, it should be admitted
that they offered very plausible excuses when, a few hours later, a
dozen or so boxes of fruit were found carefully stowed away in their
tents. It was now plain that “Every man for himself and the devil take
the hindmost” had become a well-established rule.

[Illustration: BIRD’S EYE VIEW OF FIRST REGIMENT CAMP, NINTH AND D
STREETS, SACRAMENTO, CAL.]

The work of raising the tents went busily forward. On account of the
narrowness of the road company street formation was used, giving
each company a separate street of four tents on each side; the first
tents on the left of the street being occupied by the captain and
lieutenants. By this means simply the road was used, the sidewalk being
left open.

True it is that campaigning sharpens the wits. On every occasion that
one man thought to gain an advantage over his fellows he was sure to
find others carefully watching the same opportunity. Thus it was on
the Capitol grounds when one tent crowd thought to carry off an old
torn tent to use as a floor cloth, but found it necessary to have
a rough and tumble fight with every other tent crowd on the street
before they secured the coveted prize. And so it was at our new camp.
We had no sooner seen the ground on which we were to camp than we knew
hay would arrive to be used as beds, four bales for each company. Men
from B began to lay in wait for the hay, with the laudable object in
view of capturing an extra bale or so. They found men of the other
companies equally alert, however. The hay soon arrived, and in spite
of the efforts of Major Jansen, who tried to see even-handed justice
done, the bales first from one side and then from the other walked off
in the most mysterious manner. On taking stock after the scramble, it
was found that B, through the agency of Flanagan, McCulloch, Murphy,
and O’Brien, had become the proud possessors of six life-sized bales,
which were quickly cut up and distributed in order to avoid discovery.
Suspicion was also averted by sending the meek and lowly Bannan down
toward the now empty wagon to “raise a kick” for more hay.

The work of building the canvas city on Ninth street was soon
completed. At this place Ninth street had but one open end, at its
crossing with D the railroad track built upon the levee, which is
here about twelve feet above the street, cutting off the block at
about C street. The tents of C company, having the left of the second
battalion, were pitched close to this embankment, the others running
out towards D street in the order of their positions in the battalions.

The large building mentioned before, on the grounds of which the
headquarters tents had been pitched was taken possession of the
hospital corps in front and the commissary department in the rear.

This house, though large and apparently well built, appeared to have
been vacant for a year or two at the least; and it was not long before
the irrepressible Doc Sieberst, in the course of his wanderings after
adventure, learned (it is alleged from the members of the Japanese
mission across the street who sang so sweetly night and morning), that
this self-same house was haunted. This set his fertile brain at work,
and he appeared on B street a few minutes later with the light of
genius shining from his eyes, such as beams out upon us when he holds
us spellbound by his wonderful rendition of that classic German poem
“Schneider’s Ride.” Gathering his “heelers,” musical and otherwise,
around him, he explained his discovery and the use to which it was
to be put. As the dusk of evening fell o’er our quiet canvas city,
marshalled forward to the fence in full view of headquarters, with
outstretched arms and pointing fingers, we roared as in the Bells of
Corneville,

  “That house is haunt-ed,
    “That house is haunt-ed,
  “That house is haunt-ed, ted, ted, ted, ted, ted.
    “That house is haunt-ed,
  “That house is haunt-ed,
    “That house is haunt-ed, ted, ted, ted.”

The effect was said to have been beautiful, tho’ it must be confessed
we did not wait to investigate; we had pressing business elsewhere.

We knew, when the brigade was placed under the command of Colonel
Graham at the railroad yards, that our longed-for chance for active
service had come. Colonel Graham was too well known for us to imagine
for a moment that our idle days would continue. And he proved us
right; for on this first day at the new camp he called for a detail
from the First to relieve that of the regulars at the American river
bridge, about four miles northeast of our camp. Later on, on account
of the large number of men from the regiment on duty each day as track
and train and bridge guards, our colonel found it best to send to
each place details composed entirely of men from one company. On this
occasion, however, the guard was made up of details from the different
companies. B’s detail was composed of Corporal McCulloch, Privates
Heeth, Heizman, McKaig, O’Brien, and Keane, and detailed from the
hospital corps, as medical assistant, Dr. Tom McCulloch. A great deal
of interest centered round this guard, as, in heavy marching order,
it formed in front of headquarters under charge of First Lieutenant
Eggert of F. Amongst the enlisted men it was not known what duty was to
be assigned to it. The men on the guard joshed the unlucky ones, who
gathered round watching the preparations and trying to catch an idea of
its destination. Supper had not yet been served, so, standing in line,
while Quartermaster Cluff and Commissary Sergeant Fitzgerald filled
their canteens with black coffee and their haversacks with crackers,
the men munched greedily on canned corned beef sandwiches, by calling
the which “ham,” they succeeded in swallowing.

While this hasty meal was going on, much advice, good and bad, though
generous, was offered by the facetious private, who stood with his
hands deep in his pockets, his head cocked on the side, and his
campaign hat hanging on by a few stiff hairs in back, as he viewed his
comrades with the critical eye he intended to use when _he_ became
colonel. He kept a close watch on Adjutant Williams, however, as he
shouted out his advice to “Shoot first, and then challenge.” “Keep ’im
covered ’till you can find out what the papers will say, Bill.” “Gimme
a lock of yer hair, Tommy”? or “If you get a chance, give ’em one for
us, boys.” The men on the guard simply grinned in answer as they ate
their scanty supper, feeling the superiority of their position. The
guard, having finished the meal, was marched to the tracks on the
levee above the camp, where they were placed on a train composed of
a flat-car in front and a day-coach in rear of an engine, and were
whirled off down the track toward the American River.

This guard having been dispatched, another detail was called for from
each company, and a guard formed and placed on duty at the lower end of
the yards.

The detail from B for this guard consisted of Corporal Wilson and
Privates Overstreet, Perry, Powleson, Radke R., Radke G., Sindler,
Shula, and Sieberst.

The work demanded of this guard was decidedly onerous. They had several
hundred yards of track to guard, all closely crowded with fruit-cars.
The beats of the sentries, too, were none of the safest. These, with
but one or two exceptions, lay between the crowded lines of cars, dark
as a pocket at night, and very little better during the day.

The practice firing of the Eighth Regiment, which so aroused the
American river bridge guard, startled these men as well, Privates
Perry and Shula, ever ready in an emergency, mounting to the top of a
box-car, and threatening to shoot the first man who showed his head
above the bushes in the marsh which stretched away for a mile north
to the river. Luckily, however, they were not called upon for an
exhibition of their prowess.

The work of pitching camp being finished, and the excitement over the
departure of their comrades having subsided, our hungry soldiers, as
is ever the case when at a loss for other amusement, turned their
attention to their appetites, which, on investigation, they found to
be quite keen. It was generally known on leaving the Capitol grounds
that company mess was to be established, and soon eager voices were
heard inquiring about supper. The meal served that night was one long
to be remembered. A meal prepared under a combination of disadvantages
rarely brought together on one occasion. Everything was confusion,
and kicking, growling, and general dissatisfaction reigned supreme.
The aching void felt by each lusty trencher-man urged him to lend
his individual presence, and the aid of his voice in adding to the
confusion, and causing greater delay. Our quartermaster was heard to
remark that he received enough punishment that night to counterbalance
all the “snaps he ever had.”

The commissary department was not yet ready to issue rations and would
not be until 7 o’clock. Some of the companies had bought food, prepared
a meal, and were eating before B had a sign of supper in sight. This
was soon discovered by our hungry warriors, and the wail of anguish
that went up in B street was heartrending. Captain Cook was, of course,
immediately notified, and getting on one of his proverbial moves, he
went to the quartermaster to learn why the other companies were eating
and B. still waiting. The quartermaster explained; and then, resolving
to make another effort to save the lives of his starving comrades, who
had not even yet ceased to make inquiries about that supper that was
not, started for the commissary department to see if it were possible
to get any thing to appease the appetites of those hungry mortals of
Company B. Presently loud words in the direction of the commissary
department, accompanied by a rattle of tinware, attracted the attention
of every one. Inquiry as to the cause elicited the fact that B’s
quartermaster was trying to “take” a ham, and, being caught, tried to
argue the point with Commissary Fitz, but was finally forcibly ejected.

[Illustration: A GROUP OF FIELD AND STAFF OFFICERS OF THE FIRST
REGIMENT INFANTRY.]

Seven o’clock came and went, and still no rations. Some thing must
be done immediately; and it was now that the little “takings” of the
quartermaster showed their value. A fire was quickly started, and
three scantlings lashed together at one end forming a tripod, were
placed over it; from the center a wire was suspended and the coffee-pot
(captured and held for ransom) placed thereon. In a short time water
was boiling and coffee made. The coffee and pot having played their
part, the prepared beans, which simply needed heating to be very
palatable, so neatly added to the company larder that afternoon by the
quartermaster, and that very apt pupil in the art of “taking,” Private
Hayes, were then brought into service. Emptying five cans of them into
a tin bucket they were placed over the fire to warm. About the time the
regimental commissary department issued one boiled ham, twelve loaves
bread, one roll of butter, and six dozen eggs. Willing hands and hungry
mouths set to work making and marring sandwiches. Prominent among the
mouth contingent was Sergeant Sieberst who was noticed to eat more than
he made, and after a heated argument with the Emperor’s finest, Paul
Rupp, was told to amuse himself keeping the fire up. He was nothing
loath, the beans being already very palatable. But Private Hayes, who
had noticed the facility with which the worthy Sergeant could “turn
a sandwich into a man,” told him not to bother about the fire. Hayes
was not a man to lend a hand to acquire anything and then get left
himself. Quartermaster Clifford has learned this to be a fact, as
since the campaign, he has discovered the cause of certain mysterious
disappearings of canned oysters and a few other articles of more or
less gastronomic value.

The sandwiches were finally all made; and after the beans were
thoroughly warmed, the eggs were put on and in a short time boiled
hard. Imagine the inconvenience of cooking one article at a time, with
a lot of hungry men waiting, like vultures, to devour it. It was fully
8 o’clock when supper was ready to be served. Each man stepped up and
received two sandwiches, one egg, a small quantity of beans, and a cup
of coffee. Another great disadvantage was the lack of tin plates,
cups, forks, and spoons. There had been enough for about one-half the
company served out to us, and when one man finished with a cup or
plate, it was passed to another who had not yet been served. This, it
was rumored among the boys, was another stroke of economic genius on a
par with that “ample” breakfast and dinner of the 4th of July, by our
brilliant minded Adjutant General Allen, late 2d Lieutenant Commissary
Department Missouri State Volunteers. Nobody, on this occasion, waited
for fork or spoon, but used a piece of wood or any thing else that
might answer the purpose. Occasionally the quartermaster’s voice could
be heard denouncing some hungry man for “repeating.” After all had
“scored,” some being still hungry, sent to a neighboring store and
purchased canned stuffs and crackers. Some took the entire situation
good naturedly, but all seemed to think it necessary to stand round and
echo the appeals of their inner man.

Had we been camped in a strange country, with no base of supplies, we
could hardly have been thrown more on our own resources than we were,
camped in the city of Sacramento, the very town in which our adjutant
general, who is quartermaster and commissary general also of the
National Guard of California has his headquarters.

Here was a commissary department under the direct eye of its chief
thrown into such confusion by a simple change of camp that in a
regiment of seven companies, six were forced to buy their own
provisions, and the Seventh, waiting to be served, finally received
enough to satisfy about one-half their number, the coffee and beans, be
it remembered, not being issued by the commissary department. And as
if this alone were not bad enough, the men were obliged, on account of
the scarcity of tin cups and plates, on which valuable articles some
military wiseacre had thought well to economise, to wait in squads for
their meal, which some did not taste until after 9 o’clock.

Tattoo, at 9:15, found the men of B still airing their grievances; yet,
having at least partially appeased their appetites, they willingly
retired to their tents, where, of course, the orator of each tent crowd
continued to hold forth. Taps came, and still the flow of oratory
continued. On all such occasions as this, our watchful captain would
wander down one side of the street and up the other, pull back the fly
of each tent as he passed, poke his head slowly in and make his usual
request to “Let’s have a little quiet.” It was on this occasion, we
believe, that Johnny Gilkyson, of the wild Irish tent, the fighting
drummer, stunned our worthy captain and nearly convulsed his tentmates
by replying “How much worth, Captain?” Surprised at his own audacity,
Johnny dived under the blanket of his bunky, who was nearly choked in
his efforts to smother his laughter.

Breakfast the next morning, that of Friday the 13th, served at 6
o’clock, found the men waiting and willing. This meal, prepared in
the same manner as that of the previous evening, consisted of boiled
eggs, bread, and coffee. This was, really, our first day at this new
camp, work having been begun so late the day before that little more
had been done than pitch the tents. After breakfast had been disposed
of, the men of B, as of the other companies too, set to work with a
will to put the street, their future home for nobody knew how long,
into a habitable condition. Few shirked the work, and all seemed
anxious to show that they had recovered from last night’s ordeal. Some
secured planks from a neighboring sidewalk and stretched them across
their tents at about the center to keep the hay used for beds from
spreading; others made gun-racks of stray pieces of lumber to keep
their rifles from the dust; while others took a hand-car, made a trip
up the line some three or four hundred yards to the lumber-yard and
secured material, out of which Monahan was soon busy manufacturing
tables and benches. But by far the most important work undertaken was
the improvision of a fireplace over which all future meals must be
prepared. During the morning the captain issued orders giving full
charge of the kitchen to Quartermaster Clifford and appointing Musician
Paul Rupp company cook. Having been given charge of the kitchen,
Clifford, aided by Sergeant Sturdivant, set to work at the fireplace.
Taking the hand-car previously used that morning to carry lumber, Ramm,
Clifford, Kelly, Monahan, and Flanagan went on a foraging expedition to
the railroad shops to secure the necessary material. Needless to say,
they took every thing in sight light enough to carry. They overhauled
a “dead” engine, securing wrenches, shovel, pick, pokers, and several
other more or less handy articles. Longing eyes they cast on a pile
of lanterns locked up in a caboose, but house-breaking, at least,
was beyond them. In the yard they discovered a piece of sheet-iron
to be used as a top for the stove, which was made of bricks, a short
stovepipe, and a piece of iron pipe about twelve feet long, by bending
which, at about four feet from each end, and driving the ends into
the ground, a very serviceable substitute for fork and spit was made
and used thenceforth to hang pots and kettles over an open fire. Thus,
in a comparatively short time, our company kitchen was created and in
operation. The railroad tracks, with the exception of the main line,
were blocked at this place by hundreds of fruit-cars, loaded before
the strike for Eastern shipment. During the day some skillful operator
or break-beam artist managed to open one of these, and a general raid
was made on the fruit by the regiment. It seems needless to add that B
secured a few boxes of pears; only a few, thirty or forty or so. Pears,
raw or stewed, appeared on the menu at each meal from now until we left
for Truckee.

On the first day or two of this system of company mess, affairs did
not seem to run as smoothly as was anticipated. The cooks were forced
to chop their own wood and wash the dishes; and though there was food
thrown away after each meal, many of the men were growling about not
getting enough to eat. This was finally remedied by having the first
sergeant detail squads each day to do the necessary kitchen work. This
system proved an entire success and a great improvement, the meals
being prepared more quickly, served better, and less food wasted. As a
sample of the detail made each morning, we insert that for Wednesday,
July the 18th, the last day of our stay in this camp at Ninth and D
streets.


DETAIL FOR CAMP WORK JULY 18, 1894.

Keane, Wise, McKaig, dishwashers; T. McCulloch, O’Brien, woodchoppers;
Monahan, Overstreet, O’Malley, cook helpers; Perry, Powlesen, R. Radke,
G. Radke, Stealey, Sieberst, waiters.

Later on, when enough plates, cups, knives, and forks had been issued
by the commissary department to furnish each man with a separate kit,
the necessity for appointing dishwashers was done away with, as each
man was supposed to use and keep clean his own kit.

[Illustration: CO. B STREET WHILE CAMPED AT NINTH AND D STREETS,
SACRAMENTO, CAL.]

During the day several trips were made from the camp down the line
to the American river bridge. One in the forenoon by Major Burdick,
escorted by some of B’s best marksmen, another under Corporal Jack
Wilson, who was looking for adventure, but found only hard work;
and still another in the afternoon by Kelly, Unger, and Monahan,
who were out on a foraging expedition. These latter went armed with
revolvers, pumping with one hand and holding their instruments of
destruction in the other. On returning from their successful expedition
they noticed an empty car just outside the lines of the lower track
guard crowded with a dozen or more disreputable looking characters,
tramps in all probability. On arriving at the guard-house of the
track guard they informed the officer in charge, who sent a detail
down on their car to make the arrest. We have received information
from a reliable source that a most determined resistance, a fight to
the death, would have been made had not the opposing forces caught
sight of Van Sieberst, thirsting for gore, whose face with its hirsute
adornment of curly black whiskers, one “Wandering Willie” was heard to
remark, would get up steam in a dead engine. So the arrest was made and
the prisoners, a dozen or more, were marched up the line to general
headquarters.

At 6 P. M. the guards for the succeeding twenty-four hours were
formed and sent out, Company G, as a whole, relieving the American
river bridge guard, and guards, formed of details from the different
companies, relieving the lower and upper track guards; that relieving
the lower having no men from B, though commanded by Lieutenant Filmer,
and that relieving the upper, under charge of Lieutenant Lundquist,
having with them Sergeant Kelly, Corporal Burdick, and privates
Bannan, Williams, Gilkyson, Frech, Flanagan, Crowley, Zimmerman, and
Baumgartner, detailed from B.

The work required of this, as of the lower track guard, was most
decidedly none of the easiest. Many narrow, dark streets and alleys ran
into the tracks along which the sentries of this guard were posted,
the tracks running within a few feet of the corners of these streets,
necessitating extreme watchfulness on the part of the men. An unwary
sentinel could be knocked senseless at any of these dark corners
without the least difficulty or chance of exposing the assailant to the
view of the other sentries.

We in camp passed the evening quietly. This splitting up of the company
seemed to act as a damper on the spirits of the men. Little of such
hilarity as was indulged in on the Capitol grounds being even thought
of here. Doubtless one of the main reasons for this could be found
in the fact that it was more the rule than the exception that out
of a tent crowd of six or seven there would be but three or two, or
sometimes only one, left in camp to occupy the tent.

  “The shades of night were falling fast”

o’er our little city of white, tattoo had sounded, and those who had
not already retired were sleepily preparing to do so, when bang!
bang! bang! went several shots down the line in the direction of the
lower track guard over whose destinies Lieutenant Filmer, of “Ours,”
presided. Not waiting for the long roll, which was quickly sounded, nor
for the calls of our first sergeant to “Fall in!” “Fall in!” those of
us who were awake and dressed quickly buckled on our belts, snatched
our rifles from the racks, and “Fell in” in the company street. The
excitement was intense, and increasing every moment. Excitable men were
dodging in and out of their tents, forgetting their belts, forgetting
their rifles, forgetting every thing, it would seem, but the fact that
some one either was or had been “blazing away” down the line. One,
almost delirious, was racing back and forth, shouting to our busy
first sergeant, high above the noise created by the others: “Al, will
I get my leggins?” “Al, will I get my belt?” “Al, will I get my gun?”
“Al, will I----.” “Shut up, and fall in,” almost yelled our harassed
sergeant, as he wheeled round on the luckless wanderer, who jumped into
his tent, and appeared the next moment, shouting: “Al, will I get----,”
but “Al” was not to be seen, and the anxious questioner who “was not
scared, far from it,” he only wanted to be told what regalia to appear
in on such an august occasion, was compelled to fall in with the less
punctilious members of the company.

At the other end of the street an equally amusing scene was enacting.
Charlie Perry, who had just finished a long twenty-four hours of guard
duty, had gone soundly to sleep, but at the first note of alarm,
dimly realizing that long roll had sounded, jumped from his blankets,
dressed like a flash, grasped his rifle, and sprang forth from his
tent. Still half asleep, he arrived in the middle of the street,
brandishing his rifle, and threatening to “blow the head off” of every
striker in Sacramento. It took all of the muchly-overworked “Al’s”
persuasive powers to get the redoubtable Charlie into the ranks, where
he undoubtedly would have done much to make his promise good had the
opportunity offered.

The opportunity did not offer, however. At the first note of the long
roll the captain dispatched two men down a narrow alley, which appeared
to afford a short cut in the direction of the firing, to investigate
how far the alley was open. They reported it open for at least a block,
affording a chance for a quick passage to the street below, which led
directly to the tracks at the point where the track guard was posted.

By this time the cause of the firing had been discovered. A sentry,
posted near the crossing of Tenth street and the tracks close to
the point at which Tenth street becomes simply a road through the
marsh between the levee and the river, was the primary cause of the
excitement. He had been one of our later arrivals. Coming up the river
on the boat he had come in contact with two disreputable looking
characters, who made it their business to advertise the fact that they
were ex-convicts, and boasted loudly of what they intended to do, on
their arrival, to the “blue coats.”

While pacing his beat he noticed these same two strolling round, just
outside the lines, in a most suspicious manner. Finally, making up his
mind to question them, he challenged. Not waiting for a second call,
the supposed ex-convicts rushed across the road, and over a low fence
into a barnyard. The sentry opened fire in the direction in which
they had run, and kept it up lustily, though the night was so dark he
could not see objects clearly thirty feet from his beat. Great was the
excitement of the guard, as, led by Lieutenant Filmer, the reliefs
not on duty rushed down to the scene of the firing. But by this time
the rattle of musketry had ceased, and the only sound to be heard was
the groan of some wounded creature in the barnyard. On investigation
it proved to be a horse, so badly hurt as to make it necessary, next
morning, to put the poor animal beyond reach of pain.

This, indeed, proved a rather tame ending to all the excitement at
camp, but thus it was.

To go back to the American river bridge guard. After a cautious run
of about fifteen minutes the train arrived at the bridge. Most of
the railroads in this county are built on the levees. At this point
on the American the levees on either side are about one-half a mile
from the banks of the river. Consequently, while the bridge over the
river proper is of no great length, the approaches of trestle-work on
each side from the levee to the bridge form a very extensive work to
guard, in all fully a mile and a quarter in length. There were two
bridge-tender’s houses raised on piles, and connected with the track
by a small platform large enough to hold a hand-car for the use of the
tender. These houses were built one at each end of the bridge proper,
or just over the banks of the river. On account of the nature of the
ground, the guard was divided into three sections, the first of about
twenty-five men, under Lieutenant Dumbrell of C, relieving the regulars
on guard at the nearer end of the trestle; the second of about ten men,
under First Sergeant McNally of G, relieving those who, stationed at
the first tender’s house, guarded about one hundred yards of trestle
and the bridge; and the third, composed of the remainder of the guard,
under Lieutenant Eggert of F, relieving those who guarded the half-mile
of trestle on the farther side of the river. With this latter guard
went the squad from B, under Corporal McCulloch. His brother, the
doctor, expecting this to be the point at which his services would be
most liable to be called for, was also stationed here. This bridge
duty proved to be what the boys called a “snap.” The third division of
the guard bivouacked on the bank of the river, a little to the rear of
the bridge-tender’s house. A camp fire was lighted, details for guard
made, and the sentries for the succeeding two hours posted at intervals
in the shadow of the trestle, along its half-mile of length. The men,
tired with their day’s work at pitching camp, and one at least of
B’s men, having served night and day on the two just preceding days,
rolled in their blankets, stretched themselves on the windward side
of the fire, with their feet as close to it as the combustibility of
leather would allow, and composed themselves to sleep. This sleeping,
however, quickly proved a most difficult undertaking. They thought
that their Sacramento experience had made them “skeeter proof”; but
the present experience surpassed their wildest imagination. They heard
not the hum, but the flapping of the wings, of countless swarms. One
facetious young man claimed he had killed a bat; but it was found to
be only an innocent mosquito, who had intended relieving the soldier
of one of his brass buttons. Now the smoke of the fire came into
use; but these did not seem to be the kind of mosquitoes you read
about; they were impervious to smoke, much to the disgust of the men.
Lying there, the lucky ones with handkerchiefs over their faces, the
poor harassed soldiers would hear, first, a song of “cousin-n-n,”
as a thirsty skeeter hovered over his prey, and then a vindictive
“ping-ng-ng” as he swooped down on some exposed spot. The victim’s
turn would now come, however, and a vigorous slap would be heard, then
a grunt of satisfaction, or a growling voice inviting the escaped
marauder to take a pleasant journey to unknown regions. However, sleep
will come under almost any circumstances to the really tired, and the
men gradually fell asleep in spite of their winged tormentors. They
had rested less than half an hour when they were sharply wakened by
four or five shots fired in quick succession, followed by yells for
the “Corporal of the guard.” In a flash a dozen or more had thrown off
their blankets, grasped their rifles, and were running along over the
uneven ground, led by Lieutenant Eggert, in the direction of the shots.
This run proved how ineffective was this method of posting the sentries
on the ground. At places a sentry who had to patrol one hundred yards
of bridge could not see ten paces from him, and had to pick his way
carefully over the uneven ground, and, in one place, around the edge
of a swamp. Calling as they went, the guard continued to run in the
direction in which the shots had been heard, and came upon the sentry,
after having run a full half-mile. He was stationed at the extreme
end of the trestle, at the point where it meets the levee on which
the remainder of the road is built. He had fired, he said, on two men
coming along the levee toward the trestle, and who had run down the
embankment and across the field on being challenged. The commander of
the guard, after questioning the sentry closely, decided to double
the number of sentries, and consequently the length of time to serve,
and stationed them on instead of under the bridge, warning the men to
avoid, as far as possible, exposing themselves against the sky-line.
The new sentries were posted in squads of two at about every third
water barrel along the bridge. B’s men, all of whom had joined in the
run toward the firing, were placed on this new detail. Nothing further
of an exciting nature happened during the night; but some thing of a
most disgraceful nature did happen during the four hours, from 10 P.
M. till 2 A. M., this same detail were on guard. Private O’Brien of B,
who, with Private McKaig of the same company, was stationed at posts 6
and 7, growing cramped and cold in his crouching position, decided, at
about 1 A. M., to warm himself by patroling in the direction of posts
8 and 9. He was promptly challenged by the sentries at these posts,
and, on his coming back, McKaig decided to patrol in the direction of
Nos. 4 and 5. Moving carefully along over the ties, and keeping a sharp
lookout, he expected each moment to be challenged. He was not, however,
and, wondering whether he had miscalculated the distance, kept on. Soon
a most surprising sight met his eyes. The two sentries, not men of B
company, we are most heartily glad to say, were stretched across the
ties, sound asleep, with their loaded rifles lying by their sides. No
punishment is too severe for such a crime. Little account need be taken
of such an occurrence were the worthless lives of the culprits the only
ones in jeopardy; but a sentry on duty at a camp, where the lives of
his comrades depend on his watchfulness, or when on any other important
guard duty, who deliberately lies down and sleeps at his post, as these
two had evidently done, merits any punishment, no matter how severe. In
the case of these two worthies it would seem to be a common practice,
for they were again found asleep under the bridge while on duty next
day.

At 2 A. M. the first detail, which had now served four hours, was
relieved, use being made for that purpose of a hand-car on which Major
Burdick, accompanied by his Adjutant, Lieutenant Hosmer, had come down
the track on a tour of inspection a few moments before, bringing with
him a most welcome pot of coffee and can of sandwiches. Of the latter,
however, the detail just relieved saw little, each man getting about
half a sandwich, the other men of the guard, who had been refreshed
by four hours of sleep, having thought it their duty to see that the
sandwiches were properly disposed of before these really tired men
arrived at the campfire.

The men on this guard were a most voracious set, as B’s detail found
out to its sorrow next morning. The rest of the night passed quietly,
and daybreak found our men, with the exception of George Heizman, again
on guard. On being relieved these men found that breakfast had been
already cooked, served, and eaten, great care being taken, as during
the night, that nothing should be left for the men who were yet to be
relieved. All this, too, in spite of the fact that a B man, Heizman,
of whose comrades the present detail was mainly formed, had kindly
acted as cook. The tired and hungry men of course “raised a kick,”
but as usual each individual warmly denied having “doubled up” on his
allowance. It was in a heated argument with one of these lusty eaters,
whom he had found seated near the fire letting out a hole or two in his
belt, that a B man held that he of the belt was not singly a hog but
one of a drove close at hand.

However, the breakfast, which had been a fine one, consisting of
coffee, green corn, potatoes (secured at a Chinese ranch some distance
up the American), and corned beef hash, in which form alone would the
boys now consent to eat that awful canned corned beef, had vanished;
and the first detail had still to be fed. Realizing this, George
Heizman, who is a real chef, set to work making more coffee and hash,
and explained the locality of the ranch from which the corn had been
secured. Resolved not to feed less highly than the gourmands of the
guard, Kinky McKaig, Billy O’Brien, and a private of A started up the
river toward the ranch, which they found after a tramp of about two
miles and a half. Here, by means of promises to have the trains running
inside of a few days, they secured a sack of corn, half a sack of
potatoes, and enough garlic, which they thought were onions, to have
sent an Italian army into paroxysms of glee. Returned to camp, they
found that Doc Tom McCulloch, had, by using moral suasion, secured a
five-gallon can of milk from a rancher on the other side of the river.
After such a scramble we may well imagine the meal was enjoyed; and
so it might, as it was the best consolation to be obtained, sarcasm
making not the slightest impression on their well-fed comrades. The
rest of the morning passed quietly, some of the men taking a plunge in
the river, and the others stretched lazily about the remains of the
previous night’s fire “swapping lies.” A visit was paid the guard by
Corporal Jack Wilson, that worker--of other men--who came down the line
on a hand-car, which, however, he kindly allowed others to pump. Not
much information was derived from him as to the condition of affairs in
town, the amount of pumping he had done on the way down, and who would
have to do the work going back, being his sole topic of conversation.

Shortly before noon the guard was startled by a few shots heard in
the direction of town, then a volley, and soon round after round was
fired as from a gatling gun. The excitement soon became intense, and
as the firing continued, the excited men climbed up the bridge at a
point from which the white clouds of powder smoke could be seen rising,
apparently, just to the left of the Capitol dome which could be plainly
seen high above the trees which hid the rest of the town from view.
Many were the explanations offered, tho’ none seemed to doubt it was a
battle, and seemingly a very serious one. Some thought the strikers had
attacked the depot; others that they had attacked the Third Regiment
camp; but far the most popular explanation was that the attack was on
the camp of the First at Ninth and D streets. Some stormed furiously
at the luck which kept them all this distance from the place where the
“fun was going on,” while others were perfectly contented thus far out
of bullet range, and seemed to think this bridge guard a greater snap
than ever. Soon a hand-car bearing Major Burdick came rushing down
the line pumped furiously by an excited squad of soldiers. Seeing the
car coming, the men rushed down, rolled their blankets, slung their
haversacks and canteens, and were starting to climb up onto the bridge,
the whole excited guard of about twenty or more expecting to be carried
off on a hand-car large enough to hold six.

The major, however, blasted their hopes by telling them that he knew
as little about the firing as themselves. He thought, he said, that
the regulars were breaking up a camp of strikers farther down toward
the Sacramento, and explaining that the strikers would retreat in this
direction, ordered out a squad of skirmishers under a corporal to check
their advance toward the bridge. Now, as usual, the volunteers were
importunate, but the detail was taken by roster and the majority of
the volunteers left disconsolate. They were comforted, however, when,
shortly after the departure of our anxious major up the line, and of
the squad through the bushes down the river, the firing ceased as
suddenly as it had begun. It gradually dawned on those left behind that
this could not have been a battle, could, in fact, be none other than
practice by the batteries still on the Capitol grounds; and then the
realization of the work before that now unlucky squad made them smile
in quiet contentment. Two hours later, worn, weary, and bedraggled, the
luckless men straggled into camp, paying no attention to the sarcastic
grins of their heartless comrades, but stretching themselves on the
ground where they were dismissed, were soon sound asleep. Never a word
of thrilling adventure did they offer. The subject was tabooed.

So the day passed. The bridge guards now numbered only four and were
posted every hour. Posted by telling the next man for duty to go out
and relieve the man who had been on an hour.

Later in the day Tom McCulloch and Billy O’Brien, who had gone to
the south side of the bridge to get more milk, provided they had the
persuasive powers, met Sergeant Kelly of the Irish gang, Billy Unger
the “regular from Arizona,” and Lengthy Monahan, who had come down on a
hand-car on a foraging expedition, having heard of the green corn. They
had bravely ventured down the line armed only with revolvers, scorning
the escort of Springfields. Every resident or harmless tramp met on
the way was instantly covered by two open mouthed bull-dog revolvers,
while the other of the trio of heroes calmly pumped the car out of
range. Hearing about the milk McCulloch and O’Brien had come for,
Kelly accompanied them to the dairy, where another five-gallon can of
milk was secured for the company. Crossing to the other side, O’Brien
volunteered to lead them to the Chinese ranch from which the corn had
been secured. The distance surprised them greatly, as they had been
told the ranch was just outside our lines. This time the Chinaman was
very reluctant, but finally picked two sacks of corn, when, in addition
to the arguments used by our foragers, he was shown the mechanism of
O’Brien’s Springfield and the size of a cartridge. In addition to the
corn a quantity of potatoes was secured, and, slinging the sacks over
their shoulders, the tramp back began. Their surprise at the distance
now soon gave place to disgust, and resolutions to quit work for the
rest of the campaign were quickly made and broken by these hardy
warriors.

As the day advanced Tommy Eggert, of negro minstrel fame, struck up
an acquaintance with the bridge-tender’s family, and learning they
had a banjo, quickly possessed himself of it, promising, with the aid
of the guard, to furnish an entertainment unrivaled in history. This
he did, to the satisfaction of the guard and his new-made friends,
at least. No one acquainted with the versatile Tommy, who has, since
the “war,” made a record as the nominator of unsuccessful candidates
at the late municipal convention, can doubt for a moment the success
of his impromptu entertainment. All the musically inclined of the
guard stretched themselves on the ground in the deepening shadows and
chorused to Tommy’s negro ditties.

Shortly before sunset the train bearing the guard for the next
twenty-four hours arrived, and the men reluctantly boarded the train
which was to carry them back to Sacramento, away from the only pleasant
duty they had yet been called upon to perform, already looking
anxiously forward to the time when they would again be detailed to
guard the American river bridge.

The next day, Saturday, the 16th, little of any importance occurred. B
street was comparatively deserted, at least half of the company being
on guard. Those not on duty were to be found either reclining in the
shades of the trees on the grounds of the “Haunted House,” or assisting
at the few things still necessary to be done about the company street.
Monahan, aided by a corps of amateurs, was manufacturing benches. Rupp
and his assistant cooks were busy improving the store and preparing for
the noon meal. McKaig and O’Brien were taking turns at the washtub,
while O’Malley and half a dozen others were stretching a large hospital
tent fly, which this same O’Malley, the pill-roller, had purloined from
the regimental baggage, over the street from tent to tent, making a
most welcome shade. This fly was the envy of all the companies, as the
sultry heat of the sun had not abated in the least since our move from
the soft grass of the capitol grounds to the hot, dusty street at the
railroad yards.

Bearing in mind the grand success achieved by the patent shower bath
at our last camp, and longing for the delights of cold water on a warm
day, the boys of the regiment soon improvised in a deserted stable in
the rear of headquarters another bath quite as successful, tho’ not
as fancy as the last. This, in fact, needed two to operate--one man
“playing the hose,” while the other, between gasps, scrubbed himself.

During the morning old “Lou the Vet” had his picture taken. Come, now,
don’t laugh! Of course, we know Lou never yet missed an opportunity to
pose, but in connection with this picture an incident occurred which
showed the effect of Lou’s forty years of discipline. He had arranged
this morning with Lieutenant Hosmer to have himself “kodaked,” and was
proceeding toward the battalion adjutant’s tent, carrying his rifle
with him (“parade rest” is Lou’s only pose), when he met the colonel
and promptly saluted.

“Corporal Townsend,” said the colonel, “what is the first duty of a
soldier?”

“To obey,” answered the corporal, again saluting.

Just at this critical moment, when the extent of Lou’s knowledge
of “tictacs,” as the new recruit once called it, was about to be
thoroughly investigated Lieutenant Hosmer appeared, bearing the kodak.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready!” answered Lou.

The kodak was about to snap, when the colonel ordered “About, face!”

Promptly obeying the order, Lou “came about,” and the picture became,
not a front, but a rear view.

Lou had shown that he could act as well as answer, and as a reward had
his much desired “parade rest” taken.

Later in the day, Lou having occasion to drop in at the hospital, he
discovered that there were four unused hair mattresses, neatly covered
with bedclothes, stretched on the floor of one of the rooms. What a
shock the sight gave him, poor man. He began to feel “symptoms,” and
soon “had ’em bad.” He wandered round the grounds, casting longing
looks upward at the windows of the room in which those unused luxuries
lay.

“Was he sick enough yet?” he wondered, “or would Doc O’Brien give him
pills, not a bed?”

He finally settled the question to his own satisfaction, and seeing
Private Hayes standing by the fire, Lou, with a face twice its natural
length, slowly approached, and, leaning weakly on the shoulder of the
stalwart private, began, in a voice, “hoarse with suffering”:

“Hayes--I really--must go to the hospital. This is no--place for--me.
It’s a great mistake--I feel it now,” pressing his hand to his side.
“And Hayes, like a good fellow--they’re cooking something--here, will
you see--that I’m not forgotten--that I get some thing--to eat--when I
go to the--hospital?”

“Most certainly I will, Lou,” answered Hayes, feeling a great wave
of sympathy welling up in his heart of hearts for his poor, stricken
comrade.

“Thank you--Hayes,” answered poor Lou, in a pain-stricken voice,
as he wandered slowly and feebly off toward the hospital and those
four neat beds, where, by the practice of his arts, he succeeded in
establishing himself as an occupant of one. He now regained his voice
and spirits miraculously. Meantime Hayes, with whom pity was but
fleeting, went assiduously on with his work as scullery maid, and it
was not long before Lou and his sufferings were entirely forgotten.
The dinner was cooked and served, and the tired cooks and waiters had
seated themselves down to enjoy their own meal. They, too, had almost
finished, when O’Malley rushed across from the hospital and demanded
of Hayes the meal he had promised to send Lou. Consternation! What were
they to do? Rupp, the careful, never would cook too much; it took the
united efforts of all to persuade him to cook enough.

However, making a virtue of necessity, and well knowing Lou’s
capacity, sick or well, they gathered together a plateful of untouched
pieces of stew-meat and potatoes, heaping it to the full with the
remainder of their own meal, persuading Clifford, much against his
will, to contribute a plate of stewed pears he was then eating, and
O’Malley, himself, donating a plate of ice cream, so called, bought
at the Japanese mission. Lou’s dinner was sent to him, with many kind
inquiries as to his health. Later in the day Hayes made a party call on
Lou, who, thanking him profusely, declared that day’s meal the best he
had eaten in Sacramento. Future cooks on future campaigns many, many
years hence remember, when cooking for Lou, that quantity, not quality,
is the test.

Lou was so well pleased with himself and the world in general on this
occasion that he became very facetious, telling a certain visitor that
he had discovered, since his incarceration (?) in the hospital, “that
the house really was haunted; the spirits were in the closet; have a
drink.”

All this day the yard engines were busily steaming back and forth,
making up trains, and, in the fore part of the afternoon, the first
train for the East, carrying with it several Pullman cars, pulled out
of the yards. As it passed our camp, at Ninth and D streets, it was
cheered long and lustily by the soldiers, who felt that the leaving of
many more such trains would be the signal for their return home.

This day undoubtedly saw the breaking of the backbone of the strike.
Never was the Sacramento railroad yard so busy as now. Switch engines
were dashing back and forth, clearing the tracks and making up long
trains of freight and passenger coaches. Many of the firemen and
brakemen, who had been forced out against their will and better
judgment, were glad of the opportunity to return to work.

Little or no sympathy was felt by the soldiers for the strikers. The
majority of them wage-earners themselves, they felt that the great
cause of labor against capital was injured, not benefited, by such
strikes as these. Never in the history of the world has a strike,
great or small, been won by violence; and this was pre-eminently a
strike of violence. While professing to act peaceably, they had made
all possible preparations for even a revolution against the authority
of the government. They had sent to all parts of the state, gathering
together men the most lawless, and armed them with Winchesters and
stolen rifles. They had loaded a car with giant powder and dynamite
and rolled it into the station, ready for use--an awful engine of
destruction, which, had they succeeded in exploding at the right time,
as they most undoubtedly intended to attempt, would have shaken the
very city to its foundations, and sacrificed the lives of all, soldier
and civilian alike, within hundreds of feet of the depot. They had
loaded an old cannon to the muzzle with scrap iron and bullets and
planted it in the marsh within two hundred yards of the station, but
seemingly lacked the courage, not the desire, to discharge it. And
last, though by no means least, they had made the devilish preparations
for slaughter described in a former chapter.

Add to this terrible list of at least intended crime that most
cold-blooded, red-handed murder of their own comrade, Sam Clark, the
engineer, and of the four United States soldiers, who were doing a duty
they had taken a most solemn oath to perform when they swore to uphold
their country and its laws against all transgressors, and not only the
lack of sympathy, but the great and all-absorbing desire to mete out
deserving punishment for such a fearful crime, which possessed the
citizen soldiery, cannot seem strange. Who or what but a scurrilous
daily sheet, cringing and toadying even to such bloodthirsty murderers
as these, for the sake of an added subscription or a vote for its
owner, should he run for office, could feel kindly toward a cause
supported by such methods as these?

We are most heartily, profoundly glad to add here that at least one of
the assassins (Worden) who planned and executed the wreck of that train
and the murder of their fellow-beings has been sentenced to pay the
penalty with his life, and that over the lives of six others the same
fate hangs. May full justice be meted out to them.




[Illustration]

CHAPTER IX.

AT THE AMERICAN RIVER BRIDGE.


Toward evening B Company received orders to be in readiness to relieve
the company on guard at the bridge over the American river. This was
hailed as glorious news both by those who had already been there and
those who had lived in anticipation of this trip to that paradise of
posts. Even to a stranger the eagerness of the men, as they rolled
their blankets or packed their haversacks, would plainly indicate some
pleasant duty about to be performed. Now, in the minds of many, a grave
question arose, prompting those, at least, who had already served at
the bridge to avoid all collisions with the captain, namely, “Who
should remain behind, in charge of the street and tents?”

Deep was the thought on this vexing subject, when the astounding
news spread through the street that Max Claussenius had volunteered
to remain in charge. Wonderful self-sacrifice! Of all deeds the most
heroic of the campaign!

At six o’clock the upper and lower track guards were relieved, our
boys from the upper guard joining the company as it fell in in heavy
marching order, preparatory to boarding the train for the bridge.
Having received his orders, the Captain led the company to the train,
on which we were quickly hurried off toward the bridge.

[Illustration: LIEUT. MCIVER, U. S. A., MAJ. GEO. R. BURDICK, COL. W.
P. SULLIVAN.]

As the train sped down the line many and great were the efforts of
the boys to “fix it with First Sergeant Ramm,” so that they might be
posted at the most desirable end of the bridge. All seemed to want the
same place, the farther end, which Dame Rumor had declared to be the
better of the three posts. However, despite the most Trojan efforts, no
“fixing” could be done, it having been decided by the powers that be to
make no details until we had reached the bridge, and relieved the old
guard. This having been done, the following details were made up and
announced:

Officer of the day, Captain I. B. Cook.


DETAIL FOR SOUTH SIDE.

Officer of the guard, Lieutenant Filmer; Sergeant W. N. Kelly;
Corporals B. E. Burdick and A. McCulloch.

Privates of the guard, Baumgartner, Frech, Fetz, Heath, Heizman,
Gehret, Overstreet, Perry, Radke, R., Radke, G., Sieberst, V.,
Williams, and Wise.


DETAIL FOR CENTER GUARD.

First Sergeant A. F. Ramm; Lance Corporal W. Unger.

Privates Bannan, Gilkyson, Monahan, O’Brien, and Sindler.


DETAIL FOR NORTH SIDE.

Officer of the guard, Lieutenant Lundquist; Sergeants B. B. Sturdivant
and W. H. Sieberst; Corporals Wilson and Burtis.

Privates of the guard, Adams, Claussenius, Crowley, Flanagan, Gille,
Hayes, Keane, McKaig, Powleson, Stealey, Shula, Tooker, Wear, Wilson,
and Warren.

Sergeant Clifford and Musician Rupp looked after the cuisine, intending
to do the cooking for all three at the camp of the last detail.

The different details having been made, they were sent each to their
respective posts, there to await the arrival of their supper, which was
then in course of preparation. The process was slow, extremely slow,
the trouble with the dishes still continuing. Finally, the cooks, who
had in their hurry entirely lost sight of the center squad, declared
enough to feed the guard at the other end had been cooked. Placing the
rations for seventeen on a handcar, it was dispatched in all haste to
its destination. But when it reached the waiting and watching seventeen
it was reduced to rations for ten. The seven doughty warriors posted in
the center of the bridge had found themselves “between the devil and
the deep blue sea,” and, calling a hasty council, had decided to make
a fight for life. Well knowing the advantage to be on the side of the
party which strikes the first blow, they solemnly agreed to halt that
handcar if it ever came by, demand their rations, and, if none were
forthcoming, help themselves, and send the messengers on; on, it would
seem, to sudden death, could speech of man kill, when the now extremely
slim meal reached those hungry seventeen? Returning, the car came at a
furious pace. It was easy to see that a fire-eating delegation had been
sent down to inquire into the whys and wherefores. But the center squad
cared not. They had dined, and dined sumptuously; and now let “the
devil and the deep blue sea” fight it out between them. A compromise
was finally made between these two by cooking more, and meantime
declaring that “that center squad” had caused all the trouble by not
consenting to be starved, as gentlemen should under such circumstances.
However, to the center squad this did not seem to give full consolation
to the belligerents, as they, the center squad, were most roundly
abused each time a handcar passed.

In the mean time sentries had been posted in reliefs of five men each
at the north end of the bridge, in reliefs of two in the center, and of
four at the south end. The night, cold, a chilly wind blowing steadily
down the river, and whistling through the timbers of the bridge, passed
quietly at each post. On the north side the watches were extended to
three hours, but on the south side and in the center the regulation
two hours on and four off was observed. At about midnight the company
commander made a tour of the guard on a hand-car, signaling with a
lantern as he approached each sentry, whose challenges those on the car
could not hear, and whose very presence those pumping seemed to ignore,
several of the sentries having to spring onto the farthest projecting
tie as the car dashed by, grazing their clothes as it passed.

The usual early morning mistakes were made. On the guard at the north
side Private Joe Keane mistook the morning star, shining, large and
bright, amongst the tops of the swaying trees, for a signal lantern and
was proceeding to shoot the “signaler,” when the man on the next post
assured him of the unfortunate star’s identity.

Much amusement was caused on the south side by Private Perry’s call,
in the early morning, for the corporal of the guard, asking whether
he should shoot a rabbit then in the road, to have, as he expressed
it, “something good for breakfast.” This guard, indeed, seemed to be a
guard of strong sporting propensities. Private Frech of the next relief
was seen, a short while after, crawling along the road, almost on hands
and knees. His observer stood breathless; surely a dynamiting striker
had been discovered. But no; Frech, too, was thinking of that morning’s
breakfast, and, unlike Perry, intended to “shoot first and challenge
afterward.” However, his stalking proved a failure, and, returning
to his more onerous duties, was content, on being relieved, with his
breakfast of bacon, mush, and coffee.

As day broke, the heavy, sultry atmosphere gave promise of a day whose
heat we, camped on the banks of a cool, quiet river, felt we need not
fear. Few, if any, could resist the temptation of a plunge. Every spare
moment was devoted to the river, swimming, wading, plunging, wrestling,
ducking, and racing along the stretches of sandy beach, no schoolboys
could have enjoyed their holiday more.

The heat in Sacramento must have been terrific. Handcar after handcar,
pumped by perspiring humans, who gazed with enraptured eyes on the
river as they drew near, came down the line in a long procession.

As far as food was concerned open warfare had now been declared between
the three guards. Triangular hostilities, in which the small center
squad, but for its extraordinary exertions, appeared sadly in danger
of being worsted. However, they avoided further strife by gaining
possession of their “raw materials,” and then, through Lance Corporal
Unger, doing their own cooking. The squad on the south side did the
same, Private Heizman acting as chef. This did not entirely settle the
question, however. There was our noontide keg of beer; which guard
should send to Sacramento for it? Strife had opened anew between the
center squad and the guard on the south side. Handcars had come down
in such numbers that had a train under escort come through, all could
not be removed from the track in time to avoid a collision. Seeing the
danger, First Sergeant Ramm ordered his sentries to halt all handcars
and call for the corporal of the guard. Shortly after these orders
were issued Private Monahan challenged a carload of men from the south
guard. Not heeding his call, those in front fixed bayonets, and the
others, increasing the speed of their car, rushed at the sentry, who
jumped from the track to the platform to avoid being spitted on the
bayonets. This angered the center squad, who then refused to let any
more from that guard pass without an order from the officer of the
guard. Seeing challenges to be of no avail, the sentry would sit on a
box between the tracks, with his back toward the oncoming car, which
then invariably stopped before striking him. This, then, was the state
of affairs between these two guards when the beer subject was broached.
Each guard declared that they, and none other, should send to town
for the keg, the more violent men from the south side declaring that,
should they send, the center squad need expect but the dregs.

Thus the dispute went on till finally a car from the south guard was
sent for the coveted prize.

This beer was ordered to be given to the men at the beginning of
the campaign by Major Galwey, medical attendant and commander of
the hospital corps of the regiment. He held that more sickness was
caused on July 4th by drinking Sacramento water than by heat, and
consequently, when camp was established, ordered the men to drink
nothing but black coffee, and the beer issued to them at noon each day.
To set the fears of our temperance friends at rest, we will explain
that this was issued in a small five-gallon keg--enough, when carefully
measured, to furnish each man with an ordinary glassful per day. Later
a keg of barley water was kept standing in each camp, and, though not
very palatable, was well patronized during the heat of the day.

Not having sent for the beer our center squad resolved to stop their
rivals as they passed on toward the north guard at all costs. Shortly
before the noon meal was over the sentry on guard called “Here comes
the beer!” Grasping a can in one hand and a log of wood in the other,
Monahan rushed up the track, threw the wood across the rails, and
awaited developments. Rushing along without any apparent slackening
of speed the car struck the log, rose in the air and came down again
on the tracks with the wood jammed between the front and rear wheels,
the car immovable until lifted from the track and the log removed.
Having halted them Monahan had no trouble drawing the beer, paying no
attention to the abuse heaped upon him. Having drawn more than the
proper allowance, we are afraid, he helped them remove the log and sent
them on their way warning them to treat the center squad with more
courtesy in future.

So the day passed. Swimming, disputing, guarding, and sleeping in
turns, we made the most of this our first company “picnic.” No such
opportunity for the perfect enjoyment of camp life had before presented
itself, nor did we expect such another. Our reluctance to leave them
may be imagined when about dusk the usual combination flat-car and day
coach train arrived, bearing our relieving company and ready to carry
us back to our camp in town. Slowly and sadly we climbed on board,
the engine whistled, and, casting longing eyes toward the quickly
disappearing bridge, we were rushed on toward town.

Some time before the company left the bridge our cooks went to camp on
a handcar with the praiseworthy object in view of having the company
meal ready on its arrival. Despite the fact that a member of the
company had been detailed, at his own request, to take charge of the
company street while we were away, no preparation for the company’s
arrival had been made. The street was unclean, the table and benches
were thrown together in a heap, and not even a stick of wood chopped.
What our worthy private could have been doing with himself for the
last twenty-four hours was a mystery to our thoroughly disgusted
cooks. We must be careful to mention, though, that one thing had been
done. The rations had been drawn, and were now tossed in a heap in the
quartermaster’s tent.

Despite the unsatisfactory appearance of things, however, our cooks
managed to have a hot supper ready by the time their hungry comrades
appeared at camp.

Monday, the 16th, was for us of B Company essentially a day of rest. No
guard details were called for, some of our men having already served
forty-eight consecutive hours.

An event of this day, however, served to open our eyes to the awful
depths to which we had fallen; how, as members of society, we had
deteriorated during our short campaign. At dinner on this day Doc
Sieberst, who was acting as waiter, carrying round a pot of stew in one
hand and a ladle in the other, noticed Frank Sindler narrowly scanning
a very doubtful looking plate, before calling for his rations. Stepping
over and looking at the plate, Doc carelessly remarked: “It’s only
dirt.”

“Oh, is that all,” answered Sindler. “Give me some stew,” he resumed,
as he held out the plate, and busily assaulted the meat and potatoes
which Doc ladled out for him.

The evening of this day saw our turn for guard duty come round again.
A guard of thirty privates, three corporals, and a sergeant under
Lieutenant Filmer relieved that on duty at the upper yards. The ground
to be covered by this guard extended from the crossing of Seventh, D,
and the tracks, along the tracks to Sixth and E streets, and thence
along the spur tracks on Sixth street, running in front of the Southern
Pacific foundry, to H street, at the point where the latter street
runs into the China slough or Sutter lake, in all a distance of about
one-third of a mile. Ten sentries were posted at equal distances along
this line, their orders being to allow no person without a written
permit to cross the tracks towards the Southern Pacific buildings, but
not to interfere with any person passing along the open highway on the
opposite side of the tracks. The sentries whose beat brought them near
the corner of any street also received orders to disburse any crowd
gathering on the cross streets.

The night, both in camp and on guard, passed quietly. The men had by
this time become veterans to a certain extent, and each night now saw
them quietly retire to their tents, even before tattoo, all thought of
skylarking and “horse play” apparently left behind at the old camp on
the Capitol grounds.

The onerous guard duty they were now called upon to perform had
perforce caused a change in their spirits since our new camp was
established. Each man was called upon to do forty-eight consecutive
hours of guard duty out of seventy-two. Thus for two days he would
be constantly on duty, managing to snatch in all about four hours’
sleep each night, rolled up in his blanket with his rifle constantly
by his side, not daring to remove even his leggings. The third day,
from six o’clock one evening till six o’clock the next, very naturally
became a day of laziness. Having had only eight hours’ sleep during
the preceding forty-eight, and knowing that the succeeding forty-eight
hours would be but a repetition, it is little wonder that the men
in camp each night, only about one-fourth of the regiment, retired
willingly to their tents at the first beat of the tattoo.

B Company received an accession this evening of three of its members
who had reported at the armory on the night of the third too late to
leave with the regiment, or who failed to receive their orders, namely,
Privates George Bowne, A. B. Snell, and Fred Pariser. On Tuesday
evening Sergeant Taylor and Privates Beseman, Casebolt, and Ungerman
arrived. These were the last arrivals before Companies A and B left for
Truckee.

One arrest was made by this guard. The event occurred in the “wee sma’
hours,” the principal actors being Frech, a featherweight, and one of
Uncle Sam’s children, a giant marine. Frech, catching the marine trying
to sneak across the line after a night’s carouse, facetiously ordered
him to throw up his hands, and then bawled lustily for the “Corporal
of the Guard, No. 6!” The corporal found Frech and his captive holding
quite a heated argument as to the propriety of the rather Black Bart
style in which the marine had been halted, the captive still pointing
to the clouds, under the persuasive powers of the little German’s
Springfield, though threatening dire vengeance, and Frech promising to
“fix it” with the corporal if the marine “would be good.”

At about 6 A. M. the strikers who had returned to work began to arrive,
coming across posts 9 and 10, especially, in such numbers as to require
the assistance of a corporal in examining the passes. The increase in
the number of men who came across each morning seemed to indicate an
approaching stampede in the ranks of the strikers. It could not come
too soon to please us.

The trouble with the subsistence department still continued. Despite
the most frantic efforts of our quartermaster sergeant, we could
neither steal, borrow, nor persuade the commissary department to give
us enough kitchen and table utensils with which to properly feed the
men. Surely, it would seem, sufficient time had elapsed since company
mess was talked of and inaugurated to secure dishes enough to supply
even Emperor William’s army. But doubtless we, the great uninitiated,
cannot appreciate the stupendous amount of work necessary to be done
to supply such an immense army as we, a few hundred men, camped in the
very heart of a large city, constituted. Probably it still continued
to be a “holiday, and the stores closed,” as they told us on the
Fourth, for which weighty reason we had taken in an extra hole or two
in our belts, and consoled ourselves with the knowledge that if we
were hungry, we at least knew the patriotic motives which caused us
to be so. What! Ask a man to open his store on the Fourth of July,
that greatest of all days in the history of our country! Never! Rather
let our patriotic rank and file hunger (we may eat at an hotel) than
desecrate that glorious day by common barter.

  “And we praised the little General
  And we spoke in better cheer.”

And so the trouble continued. On such days as this, when the company
was divided, no separate rations were issued to the guard; of what
use would it have been? The guard had no means of cooking it. But
full rations for the company were issued at the camp. Though in other
companies we have known this to have been cooked and eaten entirely
by those in camp, no account being taken of their tired and hungry
comrades on duty, in B Company, the best possible, though still very
unsatisfactory, system was in use. Having received the rations the
cooks prepared the meal, if possible, enough for all; if not, enough
for the guard. This, at least, having been prepared, all the available
tin plates, forks, knives, and cups were gathered, and, with the pots
of food, were placed upon a handcar and pumped up the line to the place
at which the guard was located. Here, those not on actual duty finished
their share as quickly as possible, and then went out to relieve the
sentries. These, too, having finished, the now empty utensils were
returned to the handcar and brought back to camp. Here, of course, the
men were by this time rampant, and another scurry would have to be made
to appease their inner man, who seemed to find such loud expression of
his woes.

The afternoon of this day, Tuesday, became so hot that the men on
guard at the tracks felt constrained to organize and set in operation
another shower-bath company; this they succeeded in doing, utilizing a
shady and quiet spot amongst the lumber-piles in the yard, fortunately
very close to a faucet, to which they attached a hose, purloined from,
Heaven and the “taker” only know where.

At 6 o’clock Tuesday evening our guard was relieved, very tired, and
glad to return to camp; though the dust did cover every thing, tents
included, an inch thick, every incautious step raising a cloud which
obscured even the sun.

Now the members of the relieved guard heard for the first time that
Billy Tooker, that prince of hard workers, had that day received a
furlough, and had already gone home. After his departure the work about
camp languished, no man in the company being found who could take
his place and do full justice to the position, as could the former
incumbent. Billy returned to us, though not in time, we are sorry to
say, to accompany us to Truckee.

Tuesday night gave our new arrivals their first experience of a sudden
call for duty. Tattoo had sounded and all the camp was quietly
preparing to retire. Many had already wrapped themselves up in their
blankets and gone to sleep, when suddenly several shots were fired by
a sentry of the camp guard, who was posted just above the camp on the
line of the tracks. Instantly the long roll played by the musicians of
the guard echoed over the camp. Not waiting for orders, the men tumbled
out of their tents, grasping their rifles in one hand and cartridge
belts in the other, and formed in the company streets. Considerations
of dress were put aside, each man thinking himself fully equipped for
fighting if he had on his trousers and belt and his rifle in his hand.

On this, as on the former occasion, the cause of alarm proved but
trivial. Some skulker amongst the fruit-cars had approached the line
of camp sentries too closely, had been seen and promptly challenged.
He escaped by darting round the end of a car and making off down the
tracks. His escape, however, proved on investigation to have been
very narrow. The bullet was found to have passed through the corner
of the car, only half an inch from the open space above the trucks.
The succeeding shots were fired by the sentries down the line, who had
probably caught a fleeting glimpse of the now flying form as he dashed
from one car to another. Others of the shots were doubtlessly fired by
men whose fingers seemed to itch to pull the trigger whenever their
rifle was loaded with ball cartridge.

No more skulkers or probable “angels of destruction” intent on using
“dynamite with discretion” being found, the companies were dismissed,
the men returning to their tents to seek the “arms of Morpheus” until
awakened by the reveille next morning.

This recall from the land of dreams was sounded earlier next morning
than usual. On the day before circulars had been issued by the
management of the railroad company offering work to all who had not
taken an aggressive part in the strike, and as a consequence many were
expected to return to work, while serious trouble was looked for from
the malcontents.

The principal entrance to the shops and yards is from the southeast, at
about Sixth and H streets, to which point the first battalion of the
First Regiment had been ordered to proceed and prevent any violence
while the men were returning to work.

While we all knew what duty we were about to perform, the usual
“joshing” went on in the ranks at the expense of the timid ones. Some
joker professed to have heard that the strikers were going to make an
effort, at last, to try their strength with us, and decide the question
of supremacy for good. This form of joke soon wore out, and we turned
our attention once more to dynamite, that most fruitful theme. We
pretended to have heard that our company alone was about to be ordered
to Reno, where we had heard the strikers were using dynamite “with
and without” discretion--in fact, regulating the amount applied to
each individual soldier in the most careless manner. We decided in the
course of our debate on dynamite and its uses, to which those for whose
benefit the long harangues were given listened with bulging eyes and
chattering teeth, speaking only to ask questions, that death being the
object, dismemberment, thus far an incident, was really unnecessary;
a judicious use of that most costly explosive would fully express
their displeasure at our principles and accomplish the desired result
physically, without unnecessarily mangling our persons, and leave at
least a small chance of collecting a respectable portion of our anatomy
to which to give Christian burial.

Our rather gruesome fun was cut short, however, by the order to march.
We proceeded along the tracks to the point at Sixth and H streets at
which trouble was most likely to occur. None, however, did occur, and
after having made a sufficient display of our strength to those who
gave us a glance in passing, we were quietly returned to our camp and
to our waiting breakfast, a far more important subject of discussion
than strikes, or even dynamite.

During the day a rumor gradually spread that A and B were to be sent
to Truckee, taking ten days’ rations. Here, indeed, was a prospect of
change. How we canvassed the question, and listened to each new rumor
as it was brought in from goodness only knows where!

Three B men left for home on furlough during the afternoon. They were
Private Max Claussenius, who had received his furlough some days
before, Dr. Tom McCulloch, of the hospital corps, and Private Warren,
who had received a telegram from his employers ordering his immediate
return.

We passed the afternoon in a fever of expectancy, hoping against hope
that the rumor would prove true. How anxiously we watched headquarters,
where there did seem to be an unwonted stir. Soon our suspense was
relieved; we received the order to strike camp and have our outfits
packed, ready to board a train for Truckee at six that evening. We
received the order with cheers, and set to work with a will, rolling
blankets, packing knapsacks, lowering tents, and carrying our baggage
and rations to the track. It is safe to say that A and B were most
heartily envied by the members of the less fortunate companies, and
many were the hopes expressed by the members of other companies that
theirs, too, might be sent. But no such good fortune was in store for
them; A and B alone had been ordered to prepare, and there was little
chance of a change. Never did National Guardsmen work more willingly
or respond more promptly to the order, “Fall in!” as when, under the
command of Major Burdick, our little battalion was formed in front of
regimental headquarters.

Here Colonel Sullivan spoke to us feelingly, wishing us godspeed and
exhorting us to do our full duty as patriotic soldiers and citizens
under every trying circumstance which the future might have in store
for us.

Giving three rousing cheers for our colonel, we were marched to the
tracks in the rear of our camp, there to await the arrival of the train
which was to bear us some two hundred and fifty miles away over the
high Sierras to the scene of our future operations.

Shortly after six the train arrived, and, with a rush, we boarded our
sleepers, threw down our knapsacks, and turned for a last look and wave
of the hand at the camp and comrades we were leaving, for none could
tell how long.

As here in Sacramento, so in the other parts of the state and in
Chicago the great strike was on the decline. Since the train wreck and
murder of the eleventh the chance of success had vanished, and public
sympathy, to a great extent, had turned from the strikers. Worden,
since sentenced to hang, was arrested for this crime on the fourteenth,
and Harry Knox, the leader of the A. R. U. in California, was arrested
on the day following as an accomplice.

Through the middle and southern part of the state, San Jose, Stockton,
Fresno, Los Angeles, and San Diego, business remained at a standstill.
The portion of the First Infantry, U. S. A., ordered to Los Angeles
on July 2d still had charge of the depot and saw that no disturbances
occurred. Affairs had quieted so in San Jose, that Company D of the
Fifth Infantry, N. G. C, Captain Elliott, was recalled and ordered to
report to Colonel Fairbanks at Alameda. The work of the National Guard
under General Muller had been thoroughly done from the start, in the
San Joaquin valley, and now their work of guarding trains and bridges
went quietly on.

In Sacramento and Oakland the deadlock was now thoroughly broken. On
the fourteenth the first train in two weeks arrived in Sacramento from
Oakland by way of Benicia and Davisville. Four trains, including an
overland, left Sacramento, the overland being the first train to pull
out with a Pullman car attached.

On the fifteenth and seventeenth, detachments from A and B of the Sixth
Infantry, N. G. C, were sent to Dunsmuir from Sacramento under Colonel
Nunan. Here they remained until the twenty-fifth guarding trains and
bridges when they were relieved by Companies A and F of the Second.

In Chicago, President Debs of the A. R. U. now seemed to despair.
Arrested for conspiracy and thrown into jail, his followers from
one end of the land to the other seemed to desert him. In vain did
he send out telegrams beseeching them to stand firm. Vain were his
announcements that business in Chicago was paralyzed. He realized the
strike was lost, and knew the loss could be ascribed to no other cause
than the strikers’ violence.

Throughout California the strike was admittedly lost. On the
twenty-third General Dimond issued orders for the Fifth Infantry at
Oakland to withdraw from camp, for Sheehan’s command to be dismissed,
and at San Jose for the men to return home. At a conference held in the
governor’s office, it was decided to withdraw the different regiments
of the National Guard as soon as practicable. The San Francisco
regiments, the First and Third, would be soon ordered home, and their
work taken up by Colonel Park Henshaw and the Eighth Infantry.

On the same day on which this conference was held eight hundred and
twenty men returned to work in the railroad shops, and one thousand
applications for work were received. Still with the tenacity of despair
the different leaders were sending “success” and “stand fast” telegrams
to all parts of the country.

Arrests of leaders on charges of obstructing the mails, conspiracy, and
insurrection now became common. Marshal Baldwin was busily arresting
all the active spirits of the strike, and the trial of Worden, Hatch,
Knox, and others for murder was progressing at Woodland.

Two different attempts at train wreck, now that the strike was lost,
undoubtedly made for revenge, were frustrated, the second only after
a lively exchange of shots between a detachment of regulars and the
wreckers.

So toward the end of July the strike slowly resolved itself into a
legal fight in the courts of the country. Every leader of prominence
was arrested, and the minds of all were fully occupied in their various
attempts to escape their threatened punishment.

This, then, a thousand criminal suits throughout the land, was the end
of the greatest railway strike in the history of our country. A strange
end indeed.

[Illustration: A NATIVE PATRIOT.]




[Illustration]

CHAPTER X.

OFF FOR TRUCKEE.

  “No matter what the journey be,
    Adventurous, dangerous, far;
  To the wild deep, or black frontier;
    To solitude, or war--
  Still something cheers the heart that dares
    In all of human kind,
  And they who go are happier
    Than those they leave behind.”
                                 EDWARD POLLOCK.


As the train started off, our thoughts reverted to those left behind.
There were two, private William Tooker, and Doc. O’Malley. Tooker
was absent from camp on a furlough, and was expected to return the
following day; while the doctor, in response to a call for medical
assistance, had been sent that morning to the guard stationed at the
American river bridge.

Concerning Tooker, we felt sorry at the thought of the disappointment
and suffering our absence would cause him; for who would care for
William now? It pained us to think that he would be ordered about
by rude and thoughtless officers, and made to do that which is so
distasteful to his gentle nature--work. We anticipated the effect
that our departure would have upon O’Malley. As the train rushed over
the bridge and past the station where the guard was posted, we saw
him sitting listlessly upon a camp-stool, dreaming his life away, and
living, perhaps, only in the hopes that the night was drawing nigh,
when once again he would be united to his dear comrades. But, alas!
So perfect was his listlessness that even the rattling of the train
over the bridge failed to produce the slightest signs of life. He sat,
like a lifeless mass; and it was only when our cries of “O’Malley,
O’Malley, good-bye; we’re off to Truckee!” echoed through the air, that
he sprang to his feet and gazed around in a bewildered manner, as if
doubtful what he heard or saw was real or fanciful. His face “grew sad
by fits, by starts--was wild.” Then, realizing only that he was being
left behind, he started after the train at his topmost speed, crying,
frantically: “Stop that train! Sto--p!” The last thing the company saw
of O’Malley, on its upward journey, was a small, indistinct figure,
waving its arms madly, as if it were trying to fly.

Tooker came back the next day and joined O’Malley in his grief and
lamentations. They tried to console each other, not by making the
best of a bad job, but by cursing and denouncing every one for miles
around. Tooker couldn’t see why the Colonel wouldn’t send him up to
Truckee to join his company, and took every opportunity of arguing with
those he came in contact with, why he should be sent, and how foolish
it was to keep him at Sacramento. He convinced every one, to his own
satisfaction, that such was the case. O’Malley made life unbearable at
the hospital, refusing to do any thing but nurse his own grief.

These two unhappy mortals met one day on the deserted and tentless
street of the company, and, with clasped hands and bowed heads,
silently contemplated the deserted spot, and, as they thought of
their dear comrades far away, great tears rolled down their cheeks.
“Billy,” sobbed Doc., “we’re the only ones left.” Then they threw their
arms around each other, and with their heads resting on each other’s
shoulders, their whole frames vibrating with convulsive sobs, stood
for hours. It was while in one of these attitudes that Dr. Galwey came
along, and, with his Kodak, took the picture which adorns the head of
the chapter.

During our ride to Truckee, a guard was kept continually on the
platform of the cars, with orders to drop off at each stop and prevent
any one from interfering with the air-brakes. A guard also rode on the
engine. We found, as we proceeded, that each bridge and trestle was
guarded by United States soldiers, and it was then that the nature of
the work intended for us became apparent.

As we advanced into the Sierras, we were entranced with the beautiful
scenery that surrounded us. Nature was in all its summer glory--not a
cloud in the sky to diminish the radiance of the sun. On all sides the
mighty and everlasting mountains reared themselves, height upon height,
until their snow-topped summits seemed to join the earth and sky; and
far beyond we caught glimpses of glistening, snow-clad tops, which
looked like the foaming crests of mighty waves. Deep in the wooded
canyons, seen through a maze of green, streams, like silver threads,
pursued their tortuous and winding course.

The mighty effects of water caused in hydraulic mining were everywhere
discernible, huge mountains having been worked away to get at the gold.
The water used for this purpose was carried to the miner through miles
of sluices. These sluices now, on account of the cessation of hydraulic
mining, are neglected. Where they bridge a gully the water leaks out
and falls in rainbow-tinted sheets into the depths below.

We arrived at Blue Canyon, where we had supper, about dusk. Here a
great number of the “boys” were taken in by their curiosity to see the
red bat (brick-bat) that this mountain town has on public exhibition.

Night brought with it a glorious moon and the snowsheds. Oh! how we
did anathematize those snowsheds! What panorama of mountain, vale, and
lake, bathed in moonlight, their rough boards shut out from our view!
The little glimpses caught here and there at breaks in the sheds were
only an aggravation.

Shortly before our arrival at Truckee, Major Burdick stepped into the
car and made a little speech, the substance of which was as follows:
He said he had been given to understand that the situation in Truckee
had assumed a very serious aspect; that he would expect us to meet
this condition bravely and with becoming gravity, and, by showing a
serious and determined front to the strikers, impress them with the
fact that we meant business. Furthermore, we would be under the eye of
Col. Gunther of the regular army; and he hoped that, by our soldierly
conduct, we would favorably impress the colonel with the worth of the
National Guard in general and the First Regiment in particular.

This speech had its desired effect, for, during our stay in Truckee,
not a striker approached the camp. No doubt, when they saw our fierce
and warlike appearance, they fled to their mountain fastnesses, not to
return “till the flying of the snow.”

[Illustration: COMPANY B’S KITCHEN AT TRUCKEE, CAL., JULY, 1894.]

We arrived in Truckee at 10:15 P. M. Our cars, with two freight-cars,
were side-tracked and became our home while there. The cars were
tourist cars, and we were therefore able to make ourselves very
comfortable. It was a luxury to sleep on a mattress once more.

Thursday morning, July 19th, was ushered in with the regular camp
routine, roll-call, Captain’s speech, and breakfast. Clifford, with
the aid of our head cook, Paul Rupp, had a breakfast prepared for us,
consisting of fried ham and bacon, bread and butter, and coffee. We
dined standing. Each man, before leaving Sacramento, was provided with
a tin cup, knife, fork, spoon, and plate, and, of course, was supposed
to see to the cleaning thereof himself, the result being that the
dishwashing detail was done away with altogether--a great improvement
indeed. The cleaning of pots and pans was looked after by the culinary
department.

It may be just as well here to preface the history of our week at
Truckee with a short account of the trials and tribulations of those
who presided over the culinary department, together with the trials and
tribulations of those who looked to it for three meals a day. For the
first three days, Thursday, Friday,and Saturday, all meals were cooked
at camp. A kitchen was improvised in the road by the side of the cars,
a wind-break erected, and a fireplace built. Sergeant Sturdivant was
appointed commissary for the company, and in a short time was able to
quote prices on canned goods and other kinds of provisions. He tried to
do his best, poor man, but overlooked the fact that life was a howling
wilderness to the dudes of the company without milk and sugar for their
coffee and butter for their bread. There always seemed to be a great
shortage in these articles. The tall sergeant explained this matter by
stating that the lack of railroad communication was the cause in one
case, and a scarcity of cows the cause in the other.

Sergeant Clifford, Musician Paul Rupp, and an able assistant developed
in the person of Gus Ungerman, an old-time cook, who went about the
pots and pans in a very professional way, presided over the kitchen.
The great waves of disgust caused by internal strife and outward
“kicking” occasioned the tendering of daily, or we might say “mealy,”
resignations of some one of the cooks. It is needless to say that
the resignations were not accepted. Heated arguments with any of our
cooks was out of the question; they were all able-bodied men, and were
invariably armed with a stout ladle or long cooking-fork, which they
flourished in a most threatening manner.

At meal hours, or at times when the cooks started to prepare the meal,
the adjustable tables in the cars were lowered, tin cups, tin plates,
knives, forks, and spoons were put in place, and each man jack sat
with a wolfish appetite and impatiently waited for an hour or more
the arrival of the food. The waiters’ lives were not happy ones;
fortunately they were relieved every day, or the chances are we would
have developed a number of raving maniacs.

The following is a pretty fair illustration of the service that
prevailed: A man with a pot of mush dashes into the car yelling, “Who
wants mush?” and, with a flourish of his ladle, goes down the aisle
filling the outstretched plates. Close on his heels comes another man
with a pot of potatoes bawling, “Who wants murphies?” Another meanders
through with fried meats of some kind.

All this time the men are shrieking for milk and sugar for their
mush. The coffee now makes its appearance, and men, whose cups had
mysteriously disappeared, have been known to offer their plates as
a receptacle for this dark colored fluid. The bread puts in its
appearance now, but no butter. Meanwhile, from the car windows, the
hungry soldiery are hurling anathemas at the bewildered waiters, or
beseeching them for an extra allowance of stew or a little more hash, a
conglomeration that would give an ostrich the dyspepsia. Finally, after
the men in despair have waded through their mush, potatoes, coffee, and
meat, the sugar and butter, with a very limited allowance of milk, put
in their appearance. Men with foresight and taking ways committed the
wholesale larceny of butter and sugar and took their chances as to the
milk. Much butter and sugar seemed to stick to the long slender fingers
of the learned McCulloch, who only let the replenishment of the inner
man interfere with his study and discussion of recondite subjects. The
strong military instinct of Burtis and Hayes impelled them to keep a
good reserve of these dainties always on hand. Frequent battles took
place upon the platforms, between rival waiters of each car, for the
possession of some coveted pot of beans or stew, while the onlookers
held their breath expecting every moment to see the contents of the pot
dashed to the ground.

By Sunday the officers came to the conclusion that it would be more
economical and convenient to eat in town, and were successful in
making arrangements for board at the Truckee hotel for the balance
of our stay. This was a change that was hailed with joy by all,
particularly Beseman, who developed a fearful and wonderful appetite
while at this place. He was the first to sit down and the last to
reluctantly leave the table.

Before proceeding further, we feel it our duty to gratefully recognize
the efforts of our patriotic cook, Paul Rupp. His was a thankless job;
and only a man of an extremely good natured disposition could have put
up with the trials he was subjected to. Cooking for 50 or 60 men three
times a day with the most primitive appliances, good Lord deliver us!
Paul, a crown of glory awaits thee in heaven, for nothing mortal man
could do would, in our estimation, sufficiently reward you for all you
put up with while holding the position of head cook to the City Guard.

After breakfast the bedding was spread out on the road to air, with
orders that it should be taken in at 12 o’clock; the boys cleaned out
the cars, and got every thing in readiness for inspection of quarters.
During the forenoon, as no restrictions had been placed on the men
as yet, a number of them went into Truckee to make needed purchases,
and incidentally to inspect the town. This last did not take up much
time, as Truckee, though a railway center of some importance, is a very
small place. The Truckee river runs through the town, its banks lined
with the humble homes of the native American. As it is considered the
finest trout stream in the state, it yearly attracts a large number of
sportsmen. It is indeed an ideal stream, full of depths and shallows;
dashing, whirling, foaming over rocks, to find rest in quiet stilly
pools, or to move along with grandly irresistible force. Long stretches
of its banks are devoid of brush, giving the angler ample opportunity
to utilize his skill in casting. The fish caught is the gamest of the
game, and any one who has ever had the pleasure of dining on Truckee
trout will attest to its eating qualities.

Truckee is a great lumber district. A number of sawmills, driven both
by water and steam power, border the river’s banks. Apart from its
lumber interests, Truckee derives a great deal of its importance from
the handling of ice. Above Truckee there are a number of large ponds
of smooth water which produce annually two or three crops of ice from
twenty to forty feet thick. These two industries give employment to
large numbers of men.

Some of the boys, anticipating an opportunity to try their luck fishing
in the river, bought fish-hooks and lines. They met with very little
success, however. The noble game in these waters are not to be caught
by the primitive hook and line of the farmer boy.

Early in the afternoon five details were formed to guard bridges.
The commissary issued provisions for each detail, sufficient for
twenty-four hours, taking as a guide as to quantity the following list,
furnished by a regular army officer.

 For seven men--one day--three meals.

 7 lbs. of fresh meat or 5 lbs. of salt meat; 10 qts. of coffee; 7 lbs.
 of potatoes; 3½ lbs. of beans; 11 lbs. of bread.

 For four men--1 day--three meals.

 4 lbs. fresh meat or 2¾ lbs. of salt meat; 6 qts. of coffee; 4 lbs. of
 potatoes; 2 lbs. of beans; 6 lbs. of bread.

Thus supplied we were soon speeding to our destinations. On the way it
was discovered that one of the bridges to be guarded was beyond the
state line, therefore no detail was posted there, as it is against
the law to take the militia outside of the state for active duty. As
we arrived at each post, Major Burdick and a few of his officers left
the train to see what arrangements could be made for boarding the
men; the desire being, if possible, to do away with the necessity of
having the men do their own cooking. Their efforts were crowned with
success at Prosser Creek, Boca, and Cuba, but the last station, No.
24, a bridge about three miles from the state line, was too isolated
for any arrangement of the kind. The men at this post, therefore, had
to do their own cooking. At the first station, Prosser Creek, a detail
consisting of a corporal and three privates of Company A, were posted.
They slept in the bridge-tender’s house, and had their meals at an
eating-house about half a mile up the cañon. The rose-colored reports
brought back by these men about the goodly table set at this place made
every man anxious to go there. It was the duty of the guard to watch
the bridge vigilantly night and day, and allow no one to loiter on it,
or in its vicinity; to challenge all persons approaching the bridge
after dark, escort them across, and make sure that they continued
on their way. Private Sullivan of ours, a few nights later, had the
pleasure of doing the honors for a “Wandering Willie,” bent on crossing
the bridge. This character informed Mr. Sullivan that if he had known
he was to receive such distinguished consideration at the hands of so
courtly a gentleman (Mr. Sullivan was at one time the Ward McAllister
of Los Angeles society), he would have had a magnificent load aboard,
many opportunities having presented themselves to him during that day
for absorbing liquids that not only stimulate but intoxicate. The
dread, however, of crossing the bridge in an inebriated condition had
prevented him from embracing them. And as “Willie” shambled off, he
heaved a heart-breaking sigh for the delights that might have been,
resolving in his mind that should the tide of affairs ever be so
favorable to him again he would take advantage of them, despite the
dangers of a bridge or flood.

Prosser creek bridge is located almost nine miles east of Truckee. The
Union Ice Co. has made this one of its largest supply stations. The
company has built a dam across the cañon, imprisoning the waters of
Prosser creek so successfully that the average crop of ice each season
is sixty thousand tons. This immense crop necessitates the employment
of a large force of men. Substantial quarters have been built on the
lake shore for their accommodation. It was at this place the guard did
its most effective work, punishing good food three times a day.

Boca was the next post. Here Major Burdick made arrangements with the
Boca Hotel to provide the men with food. They bivouacked in a box-car.
The duties and instructions were the same as those in force at Prosser
Creek. Corporal J. N. Wilson, privates Frech, Fetz, and Gehret of our
company were dropped off here. From this place, also, the men returned
with expanded girths, in evidence of their sumptuous fare.

The next post proved to be a place called Cuba, distant about fifteen
miles west of the Nevada state line. The detail posted here were men
from our company, and consisted of Sergeant Walter Kelly, privates
Adams, Bowne, Bannan, Baumgartner, Beseman and Claussenius. The
property at Cuba to be guarded consisted of two trestle-bridges, one of
them of considerable length and covered, a culvert, switches, and an
ice-house. The men were quite comfortably situated. The superintendent
of the National Ice Company placed a small store-house near the track
at their disposal, and furnished them with large, thick, strong
mattresses. They had their meals at the superintendent’s house; but
after the second day he refused to feed the men any longer, giving as
his reason that he feared the strikers would wreak vengeance on him for
harboring them, by destroying the property under his charge when the
troops were removed. It is believed, however, that the appetites of
the men had more to do with his change of heart than any fear of the
strikers. He had not calculated to satisfy the cravings of men who had
for two weeks been living on bacon, ham, canned corn-beef, and leather
steaks, and whose appetites were sharpened by the bracing air of the
mountains.

[Illustration: THE COVERED BRIDGE AT CUBA.]

Negotiations were then opened with the superintendent of the People’s
Ice Co., and very satisfactory arrangements made for boarding the men.

The guard duty here was not arduous. The day watches were of one hour
each, and only one sentinel was necessary. The night watches were two
hours in duration, and during that period two sentinels were constantly
on guard, one being posted at the west end of the long bridge, and the
other patrolling the balance of the line, alternating hourly with his
comrade.

During that night two men presented themselves, claiming to be
section-hands sent there for the purpose of guarding the bridges. The
sergeant informed them that he and his men were there for that purpose,
and did not need their assistance. It was with difficulty that the
sergeant restrained the belligerent Bowne and Adams from falling on
these men and doing them great bodily harm. With a baleful gleam in his
bloodshot eye Bowne watched them until they disappeared in the darkness
to return no more.

The antiquated bridge-tender indulged in a fairy tale at the expense of
our “boys.” He told them that two wildcats came down to the clearing on
the mountain side every morning at 6 o’clock to bask in the sunlight.
The “boys” bit with avidity, and the bridge-tender had the pleasure
of seeing them take positions commanding a view of the spot, and with
loaded rifles watch and wait for the cats that never came.

The train containing the last detail continued in an easterly
direction, following the course of the Truckee, the scenery becoming
wilder and grander as we progressed. The mountains seemed to be
closing in around us; the waters of the stream, in keeping with its
surroundings, raced with maddening speed through narrowing channels,
foaming, whirling, tumbling over miniature falls, until, gliding into
broader space, it swept along with stately silent dignity, to be again
transformed into a roaring torrent between confining walls of rock.
Now and then the sides of the gamey trout flashed in the sunlight, as
if the exultant spirit of life and strength within it, disdaining the
confines of its watery home, longed to soar in the bright sunshine.
At last the train stopped at what seemed to be the most delightful
spot of all, the last railway bridge in the state of California, and
within three miles of its boundary lines. This is a solidly constructed
steel bridge, and spans the Truckee. To the left of the railroad, a
short distance from the bridge, was a small cabin; it was beautifully
situated, overhanging the stream, with a flight of steps leading down
to its waters. The most fastidious disciple of Isaac Walton could
not desire a more perfect spot for a camp. Corporal Burtis, privates
Hayes, Heizman, and Keane, with their rations, were put off here. A
more delighted quartet could not be found; the surroundings suited
their sensitive, æsthetic natures. They did not care if they were
stationed there for a month. Major Burdick, with Colonel Gunther,
United States Army, standing by his side, gave his instructions, to
the effect that stranded theatrical companies, “hobos,” etc., crossing
the bridge should be watched closely until they were out of sight.
He cautioned the men to be very careful about using their weapons,
delivering himself of a sentiment that should go down in history as
a shining illustration of the gallant major’s humanity, a sentiment
that no doubt will be found written in letters of gold upon the great
judgment book, “that he would rather have them not shoot at all, than
kill an innocent person.” Think of it, ye beetle-browed sons of Mars,
in whose breast the desire for martial strife is rampant, and whose
fiercest delight is found in the shedding of human ber-lud! Think of
the example set you by our dashing major; profit thereby, and let not
your thirst for gore steel your hearts to the cry of the innocent.
“And, corporal,” he continued, “I do not think it advisable to let your
men go in swimming.” As the men gazed down into the raging waters, they
wondered if the major thought them lunatics. No sane man surely would
risk his life by attempting to bathe in that swiftly flowing current.
From the burden and tenor of his closing remarks, it was quite plain
that the major felt sorry at leaving the men in this lonely spot, and
would no doubt have continued for some time longer with cautions and
fear-allaying words, had he not been interrupted by Corporal Burtis,
who respectfully saluted and told him “he need not be in any hurry
to relieve them.” This was too much for Colonel Gunther, who placed
his plump little hand over his face and chuckled audibly. “Oh! you’re
in no hurry to get back then, eh?” replied the major; then bidding
them good-bye, he clambered back into the car, the engine whistled,
the train rolled away and left them alone in their glory. The opening
of the cabin door revealed a very clean interior, and the men were
therefore nothing loth to drop their blankets and equipments on the
floor. One man was immediately detailed for guard duty, and the rest
placed their arms where they could instantly put their hands on them
and went out doors to inspect their surroundings. While wandering up
a small canyon to the right, one of them called the attention of the
others to a grave that he discovered; it was rudely fenced in and had
a gate that was padlocked. The loneliness of this last resting place
touched them deeply. Upon the humble mound were branches of withered
flowers in various stages of decay, showing that some one, to whom
the departed one was dear, had at different times made a pilgrimage to
offer sweet flowers on memory’s altar. After vain conjecture as to the
identity of the occupant of this isolated grave, they returned to camp.

The afternoon was now drawing to a close, and they began to make
preparations for the evening meal. A fireplace was built, and George
Heizman elected cook. Corporal Burtis took a can and went down the
road to get some milk. A hatchet was part of their allowance, and
with it Hayes chopped the wood; Keane was on guard. The flight of
steps before mentioned placed a large supply of water conveniently at
their disposal. By some men this convenience would not meet with the
appreciation it deserves; water might be useful to float ships or bathe
in once in a while, but for drinking purposes it failed to meet the
requirements. Rather would they be camped in the shade cast by some
brewery of vast proportions, and be lulled to rest with the hum of its
machinery, than rest beneath the overhanging cliffs of giant mountains,
and have their slumbers disturbed, their dreams of revelry by night
broken in upon, by the varied sounds of water--water--water.

In due course of time Burtis returned with butter and milk. He and
Hayes then went to their haversacks and each drew forth a can of
oysters. Now some foolish people will wonder how they came to have
these oysters. In accounting for their possession we will have
to take our readers back to the day when camp was broken at the
Capitol grounds. As related, Hayes took part in the raid made on the
commissary’s stores on that occasion. The spoils of this raid were
placed in the safe-keeping of Quartermaster Clifford. Hayes heard
nothing further of them. Not a cracker, not even a spoonful of deviled
ham, something he dotes on, no, not even an empty oyster can did he get
as a reward for his dash and daring. This ingratitude on the part of
Clifford caused Hayes much inward grief and loss of sleep, and when,
a few evenings later, through the flaps of Number One tent, he caught
a glimpse of Clifford and a small coterie of his friends banqueting
on the proceeds of his iniquity, a moan of anguish escaped his lips,
and in that night of sleepless sorrow he resolved to be revenged. Into
the ear of Corporal Burtis he poured his tale of woe, and enlisted his
sympathies. Next day with unwearying eyes they watched the movements
of the wary Clifford. Towards evening, in an unguarded moment, he left
his chest wide open in his tent, in answer to a call from the kitchen
at the end of the street. Like eagles Hayes and Burtis swooped down
upon this chest, and, with the aid of Doc. Sieberst, got away with a
goodly store of dainties. The wailing of “the widows of Ashur” was
nothing compared to the howl that went up from Clifford on discovering
his loss. His suspicions fixed on poor Al Ramm, who vainly pleaded
his innocence. When ordered to Truckee, four cans of oysters were
left; they were divided between Burtis, Frech, Shula, and Hayes for
transportation. Two of them helped to garnish the meal about to be
described. Shula, tired of carrying his around, returned it to Hayes
while at Truckee, but Frech retained his, and while he was away on
train guard, Hayes took it from his haversack; these two remaining cans
of oysters were carried all the way back to San Francisco.

The repast now prepared by Geo. Heizman at this secluded spot was the
best cooked and the most enjoyable had by the boys since they left the
city. George certainly missed his vocation; the stew he made with those
two cans of oysters, milk, butter, and the rest, would have tickled the
palate of the most _blasé_ gourmand. Then they had some nice chops that
in some mysterious manner got mixed in with their rations, a little
fried bacon, bread and butter, and coffee. They feasted until they were
black in the face. About dusk they received a visit from the section
boss, who was accompanied by several of his men. In the course of
conversation he was questioned as to the occupant of the grave on the
side of the mountain. He informed them that it was a woman who had died
a couple of winters back, and who, with her husband, had lived in the
humble cabin in which they were bivouacked.

At the departure of the section hands the first watch of the night was
posted. Beneath the careless and reckless demeanor of this little band
was a stern realization of the responsibilities of their position,
and they were prepared to protect and defend the property under their
charge to the bitter end. With this idea in view, beside the sentinel
on duty, the corporal remained awake and on the alert the greater part
of the night, and those who slept had their loaded weapons lying by
their sides. The queen of night now rose with regal splendor above the
mountain tops and sailed slowly and serenely through the starry realms
of heaven, shedding her beauteous and mysterious rays on mountain and
cañon, stream and bridge, and on waving trees, giving life to shadows
that ever and anon startled the sleepy guardsman. The beauty of the
scene and the mysterious influences of the night throw a subtle spell
around him; dreamily his thoughts turn with a sweet pleasure to the
dear ones at home.

  Who has not felt how sadly sweet,
    The dream of home, the dream of home,
  Steals o’er the heart, too soon to fleet,
    When far o’er sea or land we roam?

He recalls them all, one by one. Never before did they seem so dear to
him. In fond contemplation he lingers on each little characteristic;
the sweet voice and the merry laugh rings in his ears; and he wonders
if, at this hour, while bound in slumber’s chain, some loving spirit,
winging its flight across the land, mounts higher and higher, and looks
down on him with dreamful eye, as he paces his lonely beat.

Ha! What’s that? He cocks his piece--it has gone. No, there it is
again, moving around yonder rock; it disappears. There it is again,
and then the straining look relaxes; a feeling of relief comes over
him. It is but a shadow cast by a tree whose boughs are tossing in the
wind that sweeps up the cañon with the river, chilling him to the bone.
He shakes himself, increases his pace, and wonders what time it is.
Surely, his two hours are up. The relief at last comes, and he gladly
surrenders his lonely beat for a comfortable blanket.

After a hearty breakfast next morning, Hayes shouldered his gun and
started for a walk. The others staid around camp, and tried a little
fishing, with no success. In the course of a couple of hours Hayes
returned and reported interviewing a number of tramps in the course of
his peregrinations and, further, that he had extended his walk into the
confines of the state of Nevada. He seemed to be greatly put out that
the governor of the state and a brass band were not there to receive
him.

“This life is made up of disappointments,” soothingly said Joe Keane.

While the noon meal was in course of preparation, the relief train
rolled in upon the sylvan scene. The detail was relieved by acting
Corporal Pariser and privates Heeth, Powleson, and Stealy.

The ride back to Truckee was a long and wearisome one, not so much as
to distance, but as to time. Endless stopping, bumping, and jerking,
the result of making up a long train of cars containing ice, tortured
the weary men beyond endurance. Almost worn out, but thankful, they
finally arrived at Truckee at about dark.

Every morning the relief train went out with its quota of men, dropping
them off at the different posts and on the return picking up those
relieved, while at 8 o’clock every morning the camp guard was relieved.
This morning Corporal Burdick, Privates Flanagan, Crowley, Gille, Wise,
Overstreet, and Sullivan were relieved from camp guard.

The trains (both passenger and freight) now began to go through. We
supplied guards for every west-bound train. These guards ate at Blue
Cañon and at Colfax, and were relieved at the latter place by soldiers
of the regular army. They returned to Truckee guarding east-bound
trains. For the first two or three days part of the guard had to
ride on the tender and engine. This was any thing but pleasant. From
exposure to the heat of the sun, the flying cinders and smoke, the men,
on their arrival at Colfax, looked like blackamoors. Finding there was
no necessity for this, the practice was discontinued, the men riding
in the cars, and dropping off at stations, to prevent any interference
with the air-brakes or the running of the train.

The men were now kept constantly on the go; very few, if any, could
boast of a continuous night’s sleep. Those who were not away on post
duty, or on camp guard, were liable to be awakened at any hour of the
night, and ordered out as train guards. A list of the men who from this
time on did various guard duties will illustrate the manner in which
they were shuffled about. Friday, July 20th, privates Heeth, Powleson,
Pariser, and Stealy went to post 24, Pariser acting as corporal. On
the same day private Perry went to Boca, private Van Sieberst to
Prosser Creek, and private Monahan on camp guard. Lieutenant Filmer
was officer of the day. Sergeant H. B. Taylor, Corporal McCulloch,
privates Flanagan, Frech, Gille, McKaig, O’Brien, and Radke went
west with trains. Saturday, July 21st, Sergeant Sieberst, privates
Crowley, Casebolt, Wise, Radke, Snell, and Unger went to Cuba. Privates
Bannan, Beseman, Baumgartner, and G. Claussenius were on camp guard,
and Captain Cook was officer of the day. Sergeant A. H. Clifford,
who had thrown up his job in the kitchen, privates Adams, Bowne, and
Gilkyson went out with trains. Sunday, July 22d, privates R. E. Wilson
and Williams went to Prosser; Corporal Burdick, privates McKaig,
Monahan, and O’Brien to Boca; Corporal McCulloch, privates Fetz,
Gehret, and Sindler, to Post 24; Corporal Burtis, privates Hayes,
Heeth, and Keane were on camp guard, and Sergeant Kelly, Corporal
Wilson, privates Pariser and Perry went out with trains. Monday, July
23, privates Bannan, Claussenius, Flanagan, and Gille went to Prosser
Creek, Claussenius acting as corporal. Sergeant H. B. Taylor, privates
F. Shula, Gilkyson, Frech, Heizman, R. Radke, and our late cook,
musician Rupp, whose occupation gone, now shouldered a gun, and who,
while pacing his beat during the witching hours of the night, communed
with the moon on the smallness of human greatness, went to Cuba. 1st
Lieutenant E. C. Lundquist was officer of the day, and privates Bowne,
Beseman, Baumgartner, and Overstreet were on camp guard, while privates
Casebolt, Crowley, Powleson, Stealy, and Van Sieberst took a trip
to Colfax. Tuesday, July 24th, the last day at Truckee, privates G.
Radke, Sullivan, and Ungerman went to Prosser Creek, Sullivan acting
as corporal, Sergeant Clifford, privates Heeth, Keane, Wise, Wear, and
Zimmerman went to Cuba. Privates Adams, Monahan, McKaig, and Snell were
on camp guard, and privates Fetz, Gehret, Hayes, and Sindler guarded an
early morning train to Colfax.

In spite of our activity life became very monotonous towards the last
of our stay in Truckee, so much so that it occasioned a very apt
scriptural quotation from Corporal Burtis:--“Jesus Christ, the same
yesterday, to-day, and forever.”

The men now began to shave right and left, particularly the older ones,
privates Wear and Unger. Their beards grew out in patches of gray and
black, giving them an old and grizzled appearance. A supreme disgust
overcame private Hayes when he heard some one call him Red Mike, and
his razor separated him from his whiskers forever. No man would blame
Corporal Burdick for shaving, but he clung to the very end to an
atrocious whisker of vermillion hue that adorned his face in patches,
the hair bristling forth like copper wires. His brother, the major,
would look at him with wonder and amaze, and say: “Well! if your mother
could only see you now.” (A tidy sum will be realized from that list of
fines when the men get their money from the state.)

While around camp the men put in their time throwing quoits and
reading. Horseshoes were used as quoits, while the reading matter
consisted of a large number of magazines and papers, which were
presented to the companies by kindly disposed people in the vicinity.

About three-quarters of a mile from camp, we located a very good place
for bathing, which, despite the icy coldness of the water, received
a number of visitors daily. The orders were that no one was to leave
camp without permission, but the man who asked permission made a fatal
mistake. To ask permission to do any thing was a great mistake, for one
invariably met with a refusal. Now, when a sensible man discovers that
he has made a mistake, he is not likely to repeat it. The result was,
that a number of luminous minds, when they yearned to go into town,
or explore the surroundings, or breathe the purer air from some hilly
height, and view Donner lake from afar, naturally took French leave.

An object of particular interest to us all since our arrival at
Truckee, and the subject of much conjecture when we saw it for the
first time, on the night of our arrival, ablaze with electric lights,
was a small, circular building, on the crest of the hill to our left.
We soon found it was a museum, containing a large number of interesting
curios, relics of the Donner party, and the famous rocking stone.
Admission on Saturday to the museum being free, a number of us were
piloted up there by Lieutenant Filmer. The center of interest, situated
in the center of the building, and resting exactly in the center of a
huge, flat-topped boulder, was the rocking stone. This stone weighs in
the neighborhood of sixteen tons, and is so balanced that with a very
slight pressure of the hand it can be rocked to and fro. Our attention
was drawn by the exhibitor to its peculiar shape and significant
position, and, in order that these peculiarities might be more easily
discerned, we mounted a ladder that led to a little gallery that
overlooked the rocking stone. From this position the stone appeared
heart-shaped and pointed north. The exhibitor told us the boulder upon
which the stone and building rested was in shape a fac simile of the
smaller stone, only that it was flat on the top. Before this building
was put up, and while the stones were exposed to the elements, it was
the subject of much comment why the snow which falls to a great depth
in these parts, never collected on the top of these stones. This was
due to their situation. The wind had a constant sweep over them, and
carried off the snow before it collected.

The peculiar position of these rocks is attributed by scientists to the
action of glaciers, or floods.

After giving some time to an examination of the numerous interesting
curios with which this little building was stocked, we proceeded up
the mountain side, until we came to a circular fence, that aroused
our curiosity, and, on looking over it, we found a froggery in full
operation. Myriads of frogs. More frogs than the boys, collectively,
had seen in all their lives. It was a frog Elysium. In the center of
the inclosure was a small pond fed with fresh mountain water that was
borne to the spot by a miniature V-shaped flume made of two planks. In
the center of the pond a little fountain gently murmured, soothing,
no doubt, the poetic soul of Mr. Frog who sat on a convenient plank,
blinking at the sun and all creation. A stone cast among them created a
small panic; frogs hopped in all directions.

Still further up the side of the hill we climbed until, reaching its
crest, there, far away in the distance, we beheld Donner lake. A
desire to go to the lake filled the breast of every man present. The
lieutenant was also of the same mind, but in a moment of weakness, as
we were making for the road that led to the lake, he dispatched private
O’Brien with his compliments to Major Burdick, asking permission to
go to Donner lake. We waited on the road for O’Brien’s return. Though
William has no wings attached to his feet, his shoulders, or his cap,
he is very speedy, and soon returned bearing to Lieut. Filmer the
compliments of Major Burdick, and a message to the effect that he did
not think it advisable to take the men such a great distance from camp,
as they might be called upon at any time for train guard or other
duties. We then reluctantly retraced our steps along the road towards
camp. No further compliments were sent to Major Burdick that day,
though under the guidance of our gallant lieutenant we cut across the
country and visited the sawmill on the banks of the Truckee, and wound
up the trip with a swim.

Shortly after our return to camp, the redoubtable Bowne and Adams were
seen coming from the direction of town. They had just arrived from
Colfax, as train guards, where they had been sent the day previous on a
similar mission. A peculiar characteristic of these two gentlemen is,
that once they don the uniform of a soldier their whole nature seems
to change, and a more desperate looking, or bloodthirsty pair it would
be hard to find. On this occasion, when they returned begrimed with
soot and dirt, glaring at us through bloodshot eyes, with sunburnt,
perspiring unshaven faces, their ferocious appearance was enough to
strike terror into the heart of any one. Private Adams, when asked to
explain the reason of this wondrous transformation, answered with the
following lines from the immortal Shakespeare:

  “In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
  As mild behavior and humility;
  But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
  Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment.”

The train they took out the day previous consisted of about twenty ice
cars. The trip was uneventful until they reached Blue Cañon, where they
satisfied the yearnings of the inner man, Bowne scaring the female
who waited on the table half to death by asking her for a cup of hot
blood. At this place five prisoners were placed in their charge by
the sergeant of the guard located there, with instructions to carry
them safely through to Colfax. It is needless to remark that the duty,
having been committed to members of the City Guard, was duly performed.
Without deviating from the strict rule of military discipline, they
were considerate, and accommodated their prisoners with berths in a
refrigerator car, bringing them into Colfax literally on ice. They were
subsequently passed through to Sacramento.

The guard at Blue Cañon were very anxious to have these individuals,
whom they regarded with great suspicion, well out of their district,
which included miles of snowsheds. The great danger feared was
incendiary fires; so all characters who could not give a satisfactory
account of themselves were promptly transported to other regions.

While the train stopped at Alta station, strains of music, mingled with
happy laughter, were wafted to their ears from a school-house near by,
where a dance was in progress. They longed to trip the light fantastic
too for a few blissful moments with the comely country lasses. But
“some must work, while others play”; so from afar, with envious eyes,
they viewed the merry throng, seeking doubtful consolation in the
thought that it was just possible that distance lent enchantment to the
scene. They arrived at Colfax about 10:30 P. M., and at 1 P. M. the
following day boarded the train that bore them back to Truckee.

The marvelous way in which such articles as soap, towels, and washing
laid out to dry disappeared was astonishing. George Claussenius late
one night was heard bemoaning to his bunkmate Adams the loss of a pair
of socks, expressing it as his opinion, that it was a shame that a man
could not put out a pair of socks to dry without some one taking them.
(It will no doubt be noticed that we always used the word take during
that three weeks campaign; the harsh word steal was dropped from our
vocabulary altogether.) Hayes, hearing the sad little tale of woe,
whispered in the ear of Corporal Burtis the question, “Did he have
those socks”? a chuckle, and “I don’t know,” was the answer received.

As trophies of the war, Rupp bore away with him from Sacramento a nice
pair of russet shoes which had found their way into his tent, and
Corporal Burtis, a navy blue flannel shirt. Shortly after his arrival
at Truckee the handsome little corporal bought a dark blue cotton
handkerchief with white polka dots for ten cents, and thus added ten
dollars’ worth of improvement to his appearance, by the coquettish
manner in which he arranged it about his neck.

Our gallant major also seemed to give more attention to his personal
appearance than usual, blossoming forth in a very becoming light blue
and white striped negligee shirt, with a very deep collar which he wore
turned over on the collar of his blouse, producing a charming effect,
and giving him a most debonair and youthful appearance. So much so
in fact, that one of the wags of the company dubbed him “Little Lord
Fauntleroy Burdick.”

The example, set by our handsome Major, stirred up a spirit of
emulation among the rest of our officers, all of whom have more than
the average share of good looks. Captain Dr. O’Brien, the scientist
and bonesetter of the expedition, is tall, and of athletic build,
and a handsome man under all conditions, and so is Adjutant Hosmer,
photographer-in-chief; but when these two valiant warriors returned
from town, after a seance with the village barber, with a few cents
worth of handkerchief arranged with studied negligence about their
shapely throats, they were a vision of loveliness. What lent their
personality an additional charm was their utterly utter seeming
unconsciousness of their good looks; they appeared to be totally
oblivious of the unfeigned admiration of us poor privates, who felt
like tramps in the splendor of their presence.

Our handsome captain, who disdains the petty details of the toilet,
was most of the time wrapt in meditation, or lost in the contemplation
of his astral form. Not so our first lieutenant (easy), Lundquist; he
slicked up perceptibly; the hair of his head, from constant brushing,
rose in all the glory of the bristling pompadour from off his classic
forehead, like the feathers of an Indian chief. While the graceful
form of our second Lieutenant, with sloping waist and curving hips,
seemed to take on added charms daily. Time or space will not permit
any further digression or dilation on the personal attributes of the
officers connected with the Truckee contingent. Suffice it is to say
that the proximity of the young and beautiful femininity, for which
this town is noted, caused these gallant men to spend much time before
the small looking-glass that hung in the toilet compartment of the car.

Sunday afternoon, July 22d, another party, under the leadership of
Lieutenant Lundquist, received permission to go and see the rocking
stone. The party was composed of Sergeants Ramm and Clifford, privates
George Claussenius, R. Radke, Frech, Baumgartner, Murphy, Gilkyson,
Flanagan, McKaig, and Beseman. On arriving at the tower they found it
closed, and, being unable to find the proprietor, concluded to take a
tramp over the hills. The frog farm before mentioned first attracted
their attention, and soon the curious city boys were deep in the study
of the domestic life of frogdom. But just as the debate concerning the
habits of frogs had reached its most interesting phase, the stone was
thrown that caused an unfortunate remark by Al Ramm, that linked hops
and beer together, causing the immediate desertion of King Flanagan,
McKaig, and Gilkyson to some symposium where hops already brewed could
be obtained. The rest, in line of skirmishers, continued the tramp,
with eyes wide open and ears laid back, constantly on the alert for
any thing that would be of interest, the fresh, bracing air making
Lundquist, Ramm, and Clifford feel real young again. Suddenly they were
startled by a yell from Dick Radke, and, on rushing to the rescue,
found him in a great state of excitement: he had discovered a gold
mine, and wanted every one to know it. George Claussenius, the mining
expert of the party, after a cursory examination, declared it to be a
worked-out claim, much to the disappointment of Dick, who thought he
had struck a bonanza.

Hardly had Radke resumed his normal state, when Frech caused another
sensation by announcing that he had found an ax. He placed it in
evidence, and his active brain began immediately to cast a halo of
romance about it. He asserted with much earnestness (and Frech can
be very earnest) that it was his belief that the ax was a relic of
the Donner party, who perished in the neighborhood many years ago.
Noticing how serious he was, they all concluded, after a very grave
and critical examination, that it was a real curio. He clung to the ax
lovingly, saying he would take it back to Frisco, and have some razors
made out of the blade. Becoming enthusiastic over his find, he at once
developed into a confirmed curio fiend, and was constantly finding
other articles which he declared were relics of the “days of ’49.”
With right good will his comrades aided and abetted him in his search.
Things that had long since been cast away as worn out or useless, and,
having fulfilled their humble offices to mankind, lay upon the face of
mother earth, calmly awaiting the end of all things, suddenly leaped
into a new and transitory value, and soon Frech was laden with an
assorted collection of oyster cans, old shoes, bottles, etc. As each
new find was made he discarded one of the old ones, insisting that the
last find was always the best. When he reached camp, all that he had
left was his ax, and the skeleton of an old pack-saddle found on the
banks of the Truckee.

Lieutenant Lundquist suggested that they continue their tramp till a
view of Donner lake could be obtained; so, like a bevy of seminary
girls out with their chaperone, the lieutenant and his men went merrily
on their way. They were traveling through what was once, apparently,
the pathless forest, for all around them were the charred stumps of
trees. The strong and relentless hand of man had spread destruction
and death among the giants of the forest. But even here, where the
nymph of the wood might well weep for the leafy shades that were no
more, contrasting with the gruesome spectacle of destruction, the
eye was gladdened with the sight of new, lusty, glorious life. In
the intervening spaces young trees were putting forth their slender
branches, the green foliage rustling and waving in the gentle summer
breezes.

George Claussenius remarked that the majority of the trees were firs,
and that the balsam extracted was worth $20.00 a quart. At this Dick
Radke pricked up his ears, and looked at the trees with renewed
interest. Clifford took exception to the conclusions of Claussenius
as to the identity of the trees, and insisted they were spruce. Every
once in a while they would stop before some young sapling, and argue in
a most learned manner as to its variety. One listening to them would
imagine they were members of the State Board of Forestry. The others,
not wishing to display their ignorance, never ventured an opinion till
Lundquist, realizing that these gentry were as much at sea as to the
identity of the trees as the rest were, put up a job on them. He got
the others to promise they would coincide with him, and then, with all
the confidence of one able to judge, he proclaimed them apple trees.
True to their promise they all agreed with the lieutenant. Clifford and
Claussenius wasted much breath in trying to show them that they erred
in their conclusions.

Meanwhile Radke had wandered away by himself. As he progressed he
gave every tree he met the closest scrutiny. “Twenty dollars a quart!
twenty dollars a quart! if I could only run across a fir tree that was
spouting balsam, why it would be better than a gold mine; my fortune
would be made.” A yell of joy apprised the boys that Radke had surely
struck a bonanza this time. When they reached his side they found
him with his hands full of a sticky substance, and, with a look of
triumph on his face, he invited all hands to help themselves to balsam.
“Balsam!” said Clifford, “Balsam! why, what are you talking about?
that’s pitch.” And so it proved to be.

They resumed their journey, and in due course of time reached an
eminence, from which they beheld Donner lake. The scene was a beautiful
one, and well repaid them for their journey. The lovely body of water
lay calm and serene, reflecting the sun’s rays like a sheet of silver.
Precipitous mountains rose on all sides of it; to the left, for miles
along the sides of the mountains, the eye could trace the snowsheds.
Considerable time was spent in contemplating the beauties of nature,
and it was with reluctance that they finally turned their faces
toward the camp. They descended the hill on the side leading down to
the Truckee river, and, when they reached its banks, discovered Bob
Williams making his way down the river on the logs that covered its
surface to the sawmill about a mile away; this easy and direct way of
reaching camp appealed to the eye of our easy lieutenant at once, and
soon they were all hopping from log to log, and in a short time reached
the mill without accident of any kind, then slowly retraced their steps
to camp, all agreeing that they had a most enjoyable tramp.

The relieved squads that daily returned from the different posts
brought with them moving tales of flood and field. The squad, composed
of Corporal McCulloch, and privates A. Fetz, A. Gehret, and F. Sindler,
had relieved a similar number of Company A’s men at Post 24. No sooner
had the train left, than the learned corporal pounced upon the rations
that were to keep the wolf from the door for the next twenty-four
hours. A wail of anguish arose from him as the provender was exposed
to view; no sugar, no milk, no butter, three “measly” steaks, a small
quantity of beans, a smaller quantity of rice, about a pound of coffee,
a small piece of bacon, and two loaves of bread. Ye gods! what had he
done? He called upon all the great divinities of heaven to bear witness
to his just and honorable career, a life spent in gathering a mass of
learning, that, rarified by the fires of his poetic soul, was in the
future to cast its electrical and beneficent rays upon the sons of men.
How could they expect him to continue on the long and wearisome road
to glory, the uncertain and treacherous pathways that lead to fame, to
efficiently fill the exalted position for which he was ordained, if the
springs of his young life were to be warped and dried up by the lack of
sufficient nourishment.

While thus bewailing his sad fate, and comparing their unhappy lot with
that of the men at the other posts, who were living on the fat of the
land, they entered the lowly cabin that was to afford them shelter,
when lo! and behold! there before his wondering eyes were sugar, pepper
and salt, two potatoes, the gods be praised, one carrot, and a piece
of bacon. Here, indeed, was a miracle; the gods were not unmindful;
their faithful servant was not to be left to starve in the wilderness;
these edibles were surely placed there by divine hands, for had not
A’s men just left, and were they ever known to leave any thing behind
them? Overcome by this revelation of the justice and goodness of an
all-seeing Providence, the learned corporal reverently removed his cap,
and with upraised eyes, that seemed, from the glad and holy light that
shone from them, to be contemplating heavenly scenes, silently gave
thanks to his Creator.

The men, like others stationed there before them, were enchanted with
their surroundings. The corporal, however, did not enchant until he had
inquired into the cooking abilities of his command. He, after a careful
consideration of their qualifications, appointed Al Gehret cook. This
momentous subject off his mind, he went forth into the sunshine and
began to rave about the mountains that reared their solid bastions to
the sky, declaring that a being must be indeed callous, who, when cut
off from the rest of the world, and alone in nature’s mighty solitude,
did not feel the omnipotence of the Creator.

In appointing Al Gehret cook, the learned Corporal had made no mistake,
(how could he) for Al proved himself to be very capable; he so ably
manipulated the provisions placed in his charge that one and all sang
his praises. But the look of contentment and pleasure that came over
the faces of his boarders as each delicious morsel disappeared through
their lips into the cavernous depths below brought more joy to Al than
all the encomiums which could be heaped upon him. So intent was he in
watching their joyous emotions that he forgot to eat himself, and the
others were so absorbed in the enjoyment of the fare, that they failed
to take notice of his forgetfulness. No high salaried chef contemplated
with more pride the results of his skill than Al the results of his
labors. The potato soup he concocted made the corporal, whose weakness
is soup, his lifelong friend.

McCulloch, Fetz, and Sindler now vied with each other to perform some
special feat that would render them envied by the rest. McCulloch,
while wandering along the bank of the river, with the intention of
baiting the wary trout, on springing from one rock to another, lost
his footing and was precipitated head first into the cold stream.
Withdrawing himself hurriedly out of the water, he hastened back to the
cabin, where the others were gathered, and, showing them his dripping
clothes, dared them to do some thing that would rival his adventure.
The wet clothes were discarded and laid out in the sun to dry, while
the corporal, picturesquely draped in an army blanket, squatted all the
afternoon in the sun, like a Digger Indian. Both Sindler and Fetz took
up the challenge. Sindler started out with line and hook, determined to
catch a string of trout, that would lie for itself, and forever make
him famous. He fished and fished until the gathering twilight warned
him it was time to return. He quietly stole back into camp, with but
three fish to show for his efforts, a humbled and heartbroken man. Not
so with Fetz, who after a long absence returned to camp, proclaimed
his name to be Fetz, and that he was the only man in the crowd that
had stood in Nevada. For this he claimed the honor of having performed
the greatest feat. This was the subject of a prolonged and undecided
argument between himself and McCulloch, which is renewed whenever they
meet. The relations of the boys had become so harmonious, and their
environment so pleasing to them, that Fetz, the following morning,
declared that he would be satisfied to stop where they were another
twenty-four hours; but McCulloch, casting a side glance at their
depleted larder, said that, under the circumstances, he thought he
would rather return. Not that he appreciated their company less, they
were all good fellows, or their beautiful surroundings, but there were
other claims more strong that made him yearn once more to return to
Truckee, and the bosom of the company. So they packed their little
belongings, and awaited the train which was to bear them back to camp.

The squad composed of Corporal Burdick, privates Monahan, McKaig, and
O’Brien, relieved the guard at Boca, Sunday afternoon, July 22d, at
3 P. M. Not having had any thing to eat since breakfast, and being
anxious to try the fare of the Boca Hotel, which their comrades had
praised so enthusiastically, Monahan, McKaig, and O’Brien, not content
to wait until 6 o’clock, decided to try and get some thing to eat,
though of course the noonday meal at the hotel had long since passed
into history.

Burdick stood guard, saying that he would save his appetite, and
endeavor to do justice to his dinner at 6 o’clock. By dint of tales of
starvation that would do credit to Baron Munchausen, our three worthies
prevailed on the hotel clerk, whose face, O’Brien said, seemed very
familiar, to give them what he could get in the kitchen. A very good
lunch was improvised, and during the course of its disappearance it
flashed across the mind of O’Brien that this same clerk so strangely
met with in a small town high up in the rocky passes of the Sierra
Nevada’s was none other than Jimmy Madden, an old schoolmate, and
resident of the Mission. Mutual recognition was in order, and the
future well feeding of this detail, at least, was assured. Even at
midnight a fine meal of hot coffee, boiled eggs, tongue sandwiches,
and (hold your breath) cream puffs! was furnished them by their kindly
host. In regard to these same cream puffs “Kinky” Mac claimed, to use
the common parlance, to “have a kick coming.” Monahan and Burdick had
gone up to the hotel at twelve to get the midnight repast, leaving
O’Brien on guard, and “Kinky” asleep on the lee side of a clump of
sage brush with his hat for a pillow. On their return, the can holding
the solids was quickly opened, and O’Brien, holding the lantern above
it, saw before his wondering eyes _three_ cream puffs. The sight of
such luxuries made him gasp and press his hand to his palpitating
heart. But _three_ cream puffs for four men, what could it mean? He
glanced quickly at lengthy Monahan and the little corporal who has read
Gulliver’s Travels, and saw a guilty look flit across their faces, half
shown by the feeble light of the lantern which he still held above
the precious can. He discreetly held his peace, however, and busied
himself disposing of his share, which, of course, included _one cream
puff_. They did the same and then wakened Kinky. He was enchanted with
his eggs, sandwiches, and coffee. All would still have been lovely,
but Monahan, intoxicated with good fortune, asked Ben how he liked the
cream puffs!

“Cream puffs!” shouted Kinky, “Where’s mine?”

Consternation in the enemy’s camp. Explanations were useless. He wanted
his cream puff and on its nonproduction branded all three as land
pirates and highwaymen. The punishment of the guilty had overtaken
them. “Kinky” talked, and when he talks “stand from under,” for tho’
he says little and rambles much, he keeps it up incessantly. All that
night were the hapless men punished for yielding to the temptation
which had been too great; and in the morning promises to reform were
eagerly made if “Kinky” would only drop the cream-puff subject.

On leaving the hotel after their impromptu repast our three boys saw
that, this being Sunday, the veranda was crowded with mountaineers of
all descriptions. They were passing down the steps, when they were
accosted by one, who wanted to know “Who the fourteen-year-old kid was
you had on there last night, and waked the town crying for his mamma?”
Answering him, not sharply, but decidedly, that “they didn’t know who
was on there last night, but they _did_ know who would be on to-night,
and would guarantee them,” they passed on down the steps feeling that
such a performance last night must be offset by a very decided tone
to-day. This was a Sunday crowd and liable to be all drunk by night.
Later in the evening one drunken lumberman informed Corporal Burdick
that he intended to go up on the bluff above the bridge and fire off
blank cartridges at the sentry; but no notice was taken of him by the
corporal, and he was finally persuaded by a very sensible friend that
“he’d better not try it. This was not the same crowd that was on last
night.”

Another approached private O’Brien while on guard, and wanted to know
what four soldiers could do against all the men in town if they wanted
to take the bridge and burn it. He was promptly answered that the
four soldiers considered themselves enough to hold the bridge until
relieved, and proposed to do it, too. All this questioning seemed to
indicate, at least, a desire to try to take the bridge, and to provide
against surprise, the guard vacated the empty box-car, which was used
as a guard-house, and carried their blankets, etc., across the bridge
and onto a bluff which overhung it and held a commanding view of its
entire length and all the approaches to it. Here they felt well able
to hold their ground until relieved next day. No disturbance occurred,
however, the night passing quietly, with the exception of the noise
created by McKaig’s tirade against criminals in general and cream-puff
thieves in particular. The night was divided into watches of two hours
each, one man standing guard on the edge of the bluff overhanging the
bridge, while his comrades slept in the sage brush, rolled in their
blankets, within reach of his hand.

The next morning, Monday, was spent by those off guard fishing in
the Truckee or in Boca creek, half a dozen fish being secured, or in
wandering over the ruins of the famous Boca Brewery, which had been
burned the year previous. On account of the purity of the water used,
this beer had the reputation of being the best made.

The belligerent spirits of the night before had all gone off to work,
and no more excitement was furnished the squad.

At about 10 o’clock the relieving train passed through, dropping off
the squad for the next day. Our squad did not have to wait for the
return of the train, however, the details at Boca and Prosser being
ordered to ride in on a freight train just arrived at Boca, and now,
having taken on some extra ice-cars was ready to leave.

The ride in was uneventful, the two details arriving in Truckee at
noon, just in time for dinner at the Truckee hotel.

The evenings, at the Truckee camp, were passed around a huge fire,
singing songs and spinning yarns. One night Doc. Sieberst produced a
huge roll of paper, and, with a voice containing as much music as the
screech of a jackass, sang a parody on the song “Two little girls in
blue,” entitled: “Few little boys in blue.” It contained thirty-two
verses; but, ere he had waded through half of it, his audience had
stolen away, and, deep in the seclusion of their bunks, with heads
buried beneath blankets, tried to shut out the sounds of his voice, at
last falling into a sleep, visited by frightful dreams and distorted
visions.

The Doc. was the originator of our famous Truckee war cry, which
commends itself for its brevity.

  “Hoopla! Hooplo! Hooplee!
    We were lucky,
  We went to Truckee.
    Not! what! A and B; don’t you see?”

The tide of travel east and west was daily becoming greater--huge
freight trains slowly rolled in, and rolled away again. Their favorite
stopping-place was the sidetrack adjoining the one on which our cars
stood. They were a nuisance by night and by day--by night disturbing
our slumbers, by the never-ending sounds of escaping steam and
throbbing machinery; and by day a great annoyance to both officers
and privates, particularly to the officers, who, on the approach of a
passenger train, were compelled to climb through the vulgar freight
train in order to see, and more especially to be seen, by the fair sex
traveling in the Pullman cars.

We were now out nearly three weeks, and the majority of us were
longing to get back to ’Frisco; particularly as now all danger seemed
to be passed, the report that the strike was off being verified by
the employees of the railroad company who had returned to work. The
men began to worry about the security of their positions in town, and
the business and professional men connected with the company, feeling
that their business interests were receiving serious injury by their
prolonged absence, were impatient to return.

Time hung heavily on the hands of all, and, as no one had yet been
to Donner lake, Monday afternoon, of July 23d, Corporal Burtis and
private Hayes decided to take to themselves the distinction of being
the only members of the company to visit that beautiful sheet of water.
Forgetting to ask permission, they quietly meandered out of camp
unobserved, and made for the high road that led to the lake.

This lake, glimpses of which were caught from the many bends of the
road, the beautiful little stretch of country approaching it, now
green with luxuriant verdure, in which mild-eyed cattle cropped the
plentiful fodder, and the hills to the right upon which sheep are now
feeding, were, one winter many years ago, the natural theater of a
sickening tragedy, the horror of which thrilled all the country at the
time. It was here that, after many wanderings, a party of emigrants,
who had left their eastern homes early in the spring of ’46, and,
taking a new route which led through the Great Basin--lying between
the Rocky mountains and the Sierra Nevadas--found themselves stalled
in the impassable snows of these mountains which reared themselves
like a white wall on all sides. Out of the party of eighty, thirty-six
perished. A cross now marks the last resting-place of the unfortunate
ones.

Squads of men were constantly going and coming. And now that so many
trains were getting through at all hours of the night and day, the
first sergeant was busy making up squads to accompany them. The novelty
of post duty had not yet worn off, the men being so much changed about,
that hardly one of them went to the same post twice; and, as each squad
went out, the members of it felt like men going to an undiscovered
country. The men detailed to Prosser Creek, Boca, and Cuba, went there
with light hearts, because the men who returned from these posts were
never tired of praising the food with which they were supplied. The
men, when not on guard, divided the time between eating and fishing.
Degeneration had already set in--they seemed not to have a soul above
their stomachs--meal time was hungrily looked forward to, and the bill
of fare considered the only subject worthy of discussion. So when the
squad, composed of privates George Claussenius, Bannan, King Flanagan,
and Gille--Claussenius acting as corporal--arrived at Prosser Creek
near noontime, on Monday, July 23d, Gille wanted immediately to locate
the rotisserie that had earned such a reputation for itself. This he
was not long in doing, and soon returned reporting that dinner would
be ready for them at 1 o’clock. As it was near that time Bannan and
Flanagan, with many misgivings, watched Claussenius and Gille depart
for the eating-place. Both of these young men are long and thin,
and, as is usually the case with young people so constructed, have
enormous appetites. For over an hour and a half they dallied with
the good things placed before them, and, after casting a last fond,
lingering look at the table, reluctantly tore themselves away, and
with difficulty waddled back to their companions. They were received
with all kinds of reproaches by the hungry and disgruntled Flanagan
and Bannan. “Why didn’t they spend the afternoon?” or “Were they at a
summer resort?” were some of the sarcastic questions that greeted them.
The heel and toe pace that Flanagan and Bannan set, as they departed
for their dinner, would have surprised the veteran pedestrian O’Leary.

At Cuba Sergeant Taylor, musician Rupp, and private Frech opened the
eyes of some of the residents with astonishment by some wonderfully
accurate shooting, at 800, 400, and 200 yards. An old mountaineer, who
was watching them, remarked: “Waal, they may say youse fellows ain’t
much good; but, I be gol darned, if I’d like to have any of ye shooting
at me.”

While at this place, Rupp, our ex-cook, assisted the cook of the
eating-place to get up their meal. One of the principal features of the
menu was pie. If there is one thing they can do better than another in
the country, it is to make pie, and this place was no exception. It was
looked forward to as a fitting climax, a delicious top-off to the meals
that will ever be borne in mind with pleasant remembrance.

This guard found Frank Shula a very heavy sleeper--that beautiful and
enlivening German song, entitled: “Oh! the little Augustine!” sung and
danced by “the entire strength of the company,” with all the force of
their lungs and power of their legs and feet, hardly aroused him. The
only thing that will awaken Frank is the sound of his own snore. This
sounds so blood-curdling at times that it even startles himself, and
with a gasp and grunt he sits bolt upright in his blankets, and stares
around, panting with affright.

Late Monday afternoon the rumor reached us that we were to be relieved,
and that part of the regiment had been sent home already. This was,
indeed, joyful news, uncertain as it was.

At 3 o’clock Tuesday morning July 24th, a squad consisting of privates
Fetz, Gehret, and Hayes were ordered out, and together with a similar
squad from Company A, formed the guard of a passenger train, that
finally pulled out of Truckee between 5 and 6 A. M. While stopping
at one of the stations, in the snowsheds, a train pulled in from the
opposite direction laden with militia. The men soon found out that they
were companies from Grass Valley, and that they had been ordered to
relieve the Companies A and B stationed at Truckee. The country boys
were as fresh as new mown hay, their uniforms were spotless, and even
at that early hour in the morning, think of it, had on immaculate white
gloves. It was with light hearts that our boys continued their journey.
A sumptuous breakfast was served at Blue Cañon. Colfax was reached
about 10 A. M. They found Casebolt, Crowley, Powleson, and Stealy
there. They also were birds of passage, and were taking things very
easy, as the new arrivals proceeded likewise to do.

It was rumored that morning in Colfax, that the night previous an armed
body of strikers had captured the gatling guns from the regulars at
Truckee. This made the boys smile, when they remembered that one of the
last scenes their eyes rested on that morning before leaving Truckee
was the peaceful camp of the regulars, the two gatling guns safely
anchored on a flatcar, with the sleeping forms of soldiers on each side
of them, and the alert sentinel pacing his beat by the side of the
cars. So much for the rumors of war.

Captain O’Connor was the officer in command at Colfax. He is quite a
martinet, and as exclusive as an “Indian king.” The captain is quite
an elderly man, and for hours he would sit on the veranda of the hotel
with chair tilted back, and feet elevated above his head, his chin
resting on his chest and his clasped hands lying in his lap. In this
position, he seemed to be thinking mighty thoughts, or gazing down the
vale of untold years, contemplating his glorious military achievements.
His first sergeant, a tall, red-haired, quick, intelligent fellow
and thorough soldier, was his _charge d’affaires_, and the only man
who dared approach him. Our friend Stealy had the temerity the night
previous to ask him for permission to attend a dance or fandango that
was to take place in the town that night. The frowns that gathered o’er
his wrinkled visage portended dreadful things for the then trembling
Stealy, but he was ordered back to where he belonged, and told to kick
up his heels there if he must.

It was here that poor Al Gehret lost his heart forever and a day. She
was not fair to look upon, this copper-colored mountain maid, who won
him at first sight, neither would you care to press her cheek. Her once
lissome form had long since developed and filled out until the extent
of her broadness was equivalent to her height. Those ebon locks were
strangers to both comb and curling tongs. Hands had she like feet, and
feet like flatirons. We are not prepared to say but that she might be
able to make up in affection what she lacked in appearance. Some men
are won by a pair of witching eyes. A wave of golden hair has often
captured the hearts of others. Some succumb to a shapely form, some go
in raptures over the classic curve of some fair girl’s neck. A refined
intellectuality often appeals to others. But Al loved her for her arm
alone, her brawny arm, part of which was exposed to view.

During the afternoon Casebolt, Crowley, Powleson, and Stealy left on
different trains for Truckee.

The news of the arrival in Truckee of the Grass Valley contingent was
hailed with joy by the members of both companies, and the delights of
“pitching horseshoes” were given over for the pleasure of discussing
the chances of an early return home. The arrival of the two companies
made no difference in the regular routine of our camp duties, and the
relieving squads were taken out to the different posts as usual. Our
high hopes were blasted later on that morning by the report, that
Colonel Gunther was unable to issue any orders with regard to the new
companies, as he had not received any concerning them himself. The
boys, however, put their little belongings together, and in various
ways made ready for an early departure. With sleeves tucked up to the
elbows Corporal Burtis presided over the washtub, and after a few hours
hard work spread his own clean clothes and those of his absent comrade
Hayes out to dry, and then with loaded gun stood watch over them.

Early in the afternoon orders were received relieving A and B, with
instructions to be prepared to leave town at 7 P. M. Now the men began
to hustle in real earnest; knapsacks were packed and blankets strapped
to them; all hands were ordered out to scour pots innumerable. Doc.
Sieberst secured a corner on the water-carrying job, and then would
only work when his life was threatened. Corporal McCulloch, who was
deeply interested in a yellow-covered book entitled “All for Her,”
treated the request of his comrades to join them in the wild hilarious
occupation of scouring pots and pans, with fine scorn. Was he not a
noncommissioned officer? How could they expect him to degrade the
standard of his rank by mingling with rude uncouth privates? and as
for scouring pots and pans, Ugh! every fiber of his æsthetic nature
revolted at the idea. The boys in despair appealed to the captain. The
wily McCulloch soon had him entangled in the meshes of an argument, the
subtleties of which being too deep for the captain, he peremptorily put
an end to it by ordering the corporal to join his comrades mid the pots
and pans. This he did under protest, but showed by the dexterity with
which he brought forth the shining qualities of tin and copper, through
a mass of black, much familiarity with that branch of kitchen work.

Later on Adjutant Hosmer, Lieutenant Filmer, Doc. Sieberst, Gilkyson,
and O’Brien went for their last swim in the cool waters of the Truckee.
Jack Wilson, Pariser, and Gille’s boon companion, Wilson, left camp
ostensibly for the same purpose, but slipped off to a dancehall from
which they returned just in time to catch the train.

About 6 o’clock the men were ordered to remove their belongings
from the cars, guns were stacked, and the knapsacks and blankets
piled around them. Great was the dissatisfaction when it was found
out that instead of going back in our tourist cars, to which we
had become attached, and in which we had managed to make ourselves
very comfortable, we were to return in ordinary day coaches. In
consideration of the faithful way in which we had guarded the property
of the railroad company, the least they might have done to show some
degree of appreciation was to make our home-going as agreeable as
possible; instead we were piled into ordinary coaches, the seats of
which, with malicious intent, were locked, so that it was impossible
to even derive the small comfort obtained by reversing them. But it
will require the destruction of some millions of property before the
upholders of law and order and protectors of life and property receive
the recognition due them.

Lieutenant Lundquist, with a detail from the new arrivals, was sent
out to relieve our boys at the various posts, and bring them back. His
appearance at that time of day caused much surprise, and the object
of his visit much satisfaction. The detail under Sergeant Clifford
stationed at Cuba had settled down to the quiet and peaceful enjoyment
of country life; the Sergeant had just started off in quest of a
fishing-pole when the relief train arrived. He was hastily recalled,
and the new detail turned over to him for instructions. Clifford found
them “as green as they make ’em.” They were all big, strapping country
boys, clad in brand new uniforms, and were a marked contrast to the
smaller men from the city, whose service in the field had given them
and their uniforms--to use a most expressive slang term--a “dead hard”
appearance. The new sergeant of the guard posted three of his men at
once, but on Clifford’s representation that only one was necessary
during the daytime, withdrew two of them. As Clifford never lost an
occasion to indulge in his little joke, he made the situation appear
very serious, and showed the place to be a very dangerous locality.
He told them that a band of desperate strikers were expected about
6 o’clock. On hearing this one of the new guards turned very pale,
grabbed a fishing-pole, and, saying that he would try a little fishing,
made tracks for the river. The sentry, slowly pacing his beat, was told
to increase his gait, to prevent his being shot by strikers hiding in
the brush. The poor fellow almost ran.

The returning relief train now rolled in, the boys climbed on board,
and, as they moved away, waved a last adieu to the new guard, leaving
them in a very unenviable frame of mind.

The train arrived in Truckee in time to give the boys a chance to
hastily eat a half cold dinner, and join their comrades on the train
that at 7 o’clock, started westward, amid much heartfelt rejoicing
among the members of Company B. While on the way the different members
of the company met with on trains bound for Truckee were taken off.
All were now accounted for but Fetz, the lovelorn Gehret, and Hayes.
As night had settled down upon them, and being fearful that they would
pass the missing ones in the darkness, the long snowsheds echoed with
the cries of “Michael Hayes come into court!” Each train and station
passed was greeted with the same yell for the absent Hayes and his
companions. The train finally pulled into Colfax, and the missing ones
were found peacefully sleeping on the floor of the baggage-room. After
getting “Michael Hayes into court,” together with Fetz and Gehret, our
journey homeward was continued, amid continued rejoicing.

As the night advanced some sang songs, while the majority, tired and
worn out with the hardships and trials of three weeks’ campaigning, had
fallen into merciful sleep, a happy sleep, pervaded with the pleasant
sensation of being borne swiftly home.

There they lay, in all positions, on the floor, across seats, doubled
up, some with their heads thrown back and mouths open, snoring lustily,
some with their heads hung forward--not one in a comfortable position.
But comfort by this time had become of secondary importance to the
members of the City Guard. The habit of sleeping any and every where
had inured them to all discomforts. And now the irrepressible Doc.
Sieberst again broke out. Small pieces of paper were put into the
hands or mouths of the insensible sleepers; a match was then applied
to the paper. The awakening of the unfortunate victim was watched with
fiendish glee by the onlookers. Some of the victims would toss the
burning paper from them and fall back, dead to the world again; others
would start up in a dazed sort of way, claw the air a bit, a piece
of paper stuck in the victim’s open mouth making him look laughably
ridiculous, and stare around at their tormentors with comical gravity.
This is what sleep amounted to that night. To feel that before another
twenty-four hours we could rest in a nice, warm, soft bed, was a
comfort and a joy. Through the long night’s journey sentinels were
posted on the platforms, allowing no one to go in or out.

About 7:30 in the morning we reached the Sacramento depot. Here a great
disappointment awaited us. Instead of going through to the city as we
expected, the cars containing the two companies were sidetracked, we
were ordered out, and amid some of the most fearful, though low-toned,
“kicking,” shouldered our knapsacks and blankets, and were marched back
along the tracks to the camp of our regiment. As we approached the camp
we made the echoes ring with our Truckee battle cry: “Hoop-la! Hoop-lo!
Hoop-lee! We were lucky, we went to Truckee! Not! What! A and B; don’t
you see?”--and were soon answering hundreds of questions all at once.
We took possession of our tentless street and there piled our blankets
and equipments. The weary ones spread their blankets and were soon
asleep. The dreadful rumor then spread that we should not have left
the train, and had not some mistake been made we would now be whirling
on our way to the city. The question then arose, Who dared make such a
mistake? The subject was quickly canvassed, and soon upon the luckless
head of P. J. Conly, acting battalion sergeant-major, was poured the
wrath of the whole company.

While in our tentless street, awaiting orders, the Irish crowd,
headed by Flanagan, became involved in a little fracas with another
crowd, composed of Jack Wilson, Gille, Wilson, and a few others. The
neutral bystanders, in the heat of the battle, managed, unobserved, to
occasionally get in an upper cut, and some one threw a brick. Through
all the best of humor prevailed. About ten men were struggling for the
possession of a barrel stave, with which Jack Wilson had been doing
some great execution, when the appearance of Colonel Sullivan put an
end to the enjoyable proceedings. The Colonel shook hands with the
boys, and expressed himself as being glad to see them all back safe.
From beneath the flap of an adjoining tent appeared the head of Brien,
who had arrived in Sacramento while we were at Truckee. Tooker now put
in his appearance, a sadder but wiser man, but with the aversion to
work as strong within him as ever. Later on we were joined by Sergeant
Sturdivant; he was compelled to leave us the Monday previous to attend
to some important business in the city, and had just returned.

Lieutenant Filmer obtained permission to take the men down town to
breakfast, and the majority went. On our return we were greeted with
the good news that the regiment would leave for home that day at 3
P. M. We got our equipments and blankets together, and were ready to
leave at a moment’s notice. Volunteers were called for to take down the
officers’ tents, and the hardy and experienced men of Company B became
at once very scarce. We were the lions of the hour, and swaggered
around like heroes, giving exaggerated accounts of our wonderful
adventures to a crowd of open-mouthed listeners.

The week spent at Truckee had enabled our boys to overcome the
prostrating effects of their stay in Sacramento, and was of
incalculable benefit to them physically. There were a few, however, on
whom the malaria contracted in Sacramento had taken such a firm hold
that it was not to be so easily shaken off, and who only reached home
to take to a bed of sickness. Notably Al Gehret; nature supported him
until he reached home and received the welcoming embraces of friends
and relations; he then succumbed, and for two months was confined to
bed, his life at times being despaired of. George Claussenius and Frank
Monahan were both laid up with severe sick spells.

At noon we had a very sensible and appetizing lunch, ham sandwiches
and beer. Clifford, as usual, with an eye to the future, managed to
get away with half a ham, and a few other sundries which were duly
appreciated during our long ride to the city. Thus did Clifford to the
very end remain faithful to his charge, and in a blaze of glory bring
his official career to a close.

Why we refer to the lunch of that day as a sensible one is because
we were in the habit, when doing our own cooking, of preparing a hot
lunch; this entails a lot of work, without satisfactory results.
Cooking three meals a day is unnecessary. Men are satisfied with a
light repast at the noon hour, when they have a good breakfast and
supper. A lunch of sandwiches and beer (when you can get it), or
coffee, answers every purpose, and is thoroughly enjoyed. During
hot weather the man who abstains from cold drinks at meal time, and
satisfies his thirst with warm tea or coffee, will find he is better
able to stand the heat. Lengthy Monahan presided over the liquid
refreshments on this occasion, and his administration was far from
being satisfactory; it lacked the impartiality that characterized
the _regime_ of Jimmy Wear and Van Sieberst. William Flanagan sat at
the right hand of Monahan, and his little tin cup was always kept
full, with the result that William soon began to boast of his royal
lineage, and to cast reflections on the “stuck-up, piano parlor Irish”
at the same time looking very hard at their champion, Phil Bannan. On
occasions of this kind the captain always had a big advantage over
us, for he drank from a tin cup, which had the holding capacity of a
dipper. This cup he became the proud possessor of in the early part of
the campaign, and he clung to it to the last. It is believed by the
members of the company that he bought it himself; others claim he had
it made to order.

At last we received the order, “B Company fall in.” We were marched
to the cars, and after considerable confusion, in which we were
changed from one car to another while the train was in motion, thereby
endangering life and limb, finally got settled, in an uncomfortable
cushionless day coach. At the Sacramento depot the train was boarded by
the Third Regiment, and amid howls and yells of joy the train pulled
out for ’Frisco. It is with pleasure we can say that on this occasion
the members of the company comported themselves with the dignity of
tried soldiers, and preserved a silent passiveness that was a marked
contrast to the demoniac yells that proceeded from the other companies.
Passing over the bridge which was the scene of the wreck two weeks
previous, we could not help but feel genuine regret for the brave
fellows that met death beneath the cars, that still lay tossed about
below the bridge. Such, indeed, might have been the fate of some of
us, had events taken a different course. While the train was swiftly
flying towards the city, Clifford doled out sandwiches for the last
time; and a box of cakes and some bottles of wine that Fetz and Gehret
found waiting for them at Sacramento were distributed among the boys
with their compliments. At last the shores of the bay were reached, and
across its shining waters we discerned the mansion-crowned hills of
dear old ’Frisco. Long before it was necessary, the boys began to get
their belongings together, and when we arrived at the end of the mole,
every man was ready to step off the cars. On the other side of the
bay we were received by a band, the Boys’ High School Cadets, and the
members of our regiment who had returned home before us. Under their
escort we marched up Market street. The appearance of these men formed
such a contrast to our own, with their white gloves, white collars,
jaunty caps, and clean-shaven faces, that we began to wonder if we
ever looked like them, or would we ever look like them again. These,
indeed, must be the tin soldiers we had heard people speak of. And yet
not one of us would change places with any of them, though we were
unshaven, begrimed with dust and dirt from our leggings to the crowns
of our much-dented campaign hats, and laden with guns, knapsacks,
haversacks, canteens, and blankets; we were proud of every grease spot,
every stain, our bursted shoes, our worn leggings, our torn and dirty
blouses, our campaign hats. Even our little tin cups had a new value
for us. Around all these, dirty and worn, were clustered the memories
and associations of our three weeks’ campaign. By the readiness with
which we donned the uniforms that proclaimed us soldiers beneath the
stars and stripes, and upholders of free institutions, did we prove
ourselves not unworthy of the land we live in. And years hence, when
the future members of this company are gathered around the festive
board, the memory of the deeds of the City Guard during the Sacramento
campaign will awake and fire the eloquence of the orator, and inspire
the muse of the poet. Along San Francisco’s highways we marched to
martial strains, the endless amount and variety of whiskers among the
men affording much amusement to, and calling forth innumerable comments
from, the small boy.

At length we reached the armory, where we were greeted by an immense
crowd. After a short speech by Col. Sullivan, wherein he dwelt on
the efficient services rendered by the First Regiment, we were
dismissed, and were immediately surrounded by friends and relatives
congratulating us on our safe return home. And thus ended the great
Sacramento Campaign.


SONG OF THE SOLDIERS.

  Comrades known in marches many,
  Comrades tried in dangers many,
  Comrades bound by memories many,
      Brothers ever let us be.
  Wounds or sickness may divide us,
  Marching orders may divide us,
  But whatever fate betide us,
      Brothers of the heart are we.

  Comrades known by faith the clearest,
  Tried when death was near and nearest,
  Bound we are by ties the dearest,
      Brothers evermore to be;
  And if spared and growing older,
  Shoulder still in line with shoulder,
  And with hearts no thrill the colder,
      Brothers ever we shall be.

  By communion of the banner,
  Crimson, white, and starry banner,
  By baptism of our banner
      Children of one church are we.
  Creed nor faction can divide us,
  Race nor language can divide us,
  Still whatever fate betide us,
      Children of that flag we’ll be!

                                  CHAS. G. HALPINE.

[Illustration: OFFICERS OF THE SECOND REGIMENT ARTILLERY AND NAVAL
BATTALION, N. G. C., WHILE STATIONED AT OAKLAND, CAL. DURING THE
STRIKE, JULY, 1894.]




  A HISTORY
  OF THE
  “CITY GUARD”

  “B” Company, First Regiment Infantry
  Second Brigade, N. G. C.

  IN A CONCISE FORM

  Embodying the Principal Features from its Original Organization
  to the Railroad Strike of 1894


  BY
  CAPTAIN IRVING B. COOK
  COMMANDING COMPANY

  “SALUS PATRIAE ME EXCITAT.”




PREFACE.


In the absence of any previously compiled history of the “City Guard”
I am beholden to a host of ex-members, and to many other gentlemen
as well, for data and scraps of history which helped materially in
this work. To them I wish to express my most sincere thanks for all
kindnesses rendered. I wish also to express my appreciation for favors
received from public libraries, especially the Mercantile, for the free
use of their valuable collections of papers and books for reference,
many having been examined and consulted by me.

                                    IRVING B. COOK,
                    Capt. “City Guard,” B Co., 1st Infantry, N. G. C.

  Armory, 1327 Market St., San Francisco, Cal.




CHAPTER I.

“SAN FRANCISCO CITY GUARD.”

  “Build me straight, O, worthy master!
    Staunch and strong--a goodly vessel,
  That shall laugh at all disaster,
    And with wave and whirlwind wrestle!”
                                       LONGFELLOW.


Appearing upon the charter-roll of the First California Guard, under
date of organization, namely, July 27, 1849, will be found the name of
J. Russel Gerry, M. D., company surgeon. Upon looking further along the
roll we find the names of John A. Clark and George F. Watson, first
and second lieutenants, respectively, of the company, both having
joined on May 21, 1852. Second Sergt. R. M. Stephenson and Corporal
John W. Conner also joined at the same time with the lieutenants. Third
Sergt. E. W. Crowell, together with R. S. La Motte, H. D. La Motte,
and Charles S. Simpson, date from July 13, 1852; and Thomas B. Parker
from October 5th same year. Fourth Sergt. H. F. Wadsworth and Joseph
Henriques joined in 1852, but the exact dates cannot be given at this
writing. H. D. La Motte and E. G. Hilton, two of the three now living,
who were among the organizers of the “City Guard,” furnish evidence
between them to show that the following named gentlemen were also among
those who belonged to the California Guard just prior to March 31,
1854--the great day--but are unable to give the dates of their first
joining same: Asa L. Loring, Charles Le Gay, John Ames, John McQuade,
E. G. Hilton (who speaks for himself), John C. Briggs, P. R. Moore,
Samuel C. Loring, E. R Dimmock, and J. H. Pierce.

The records of the California Guard are very incomplete for the
early years, particularly so for 1853, that year only showing two
enlistments. This is the reason why the writer is unable to furnish the
dates above left vacant.

The First California Guard was originally organized as a train of
artillery, and exercised in the standing gun drill, besides drilling
with muskets. Early in 1854, however, they changed into a horse
battery, receiving from the state two six-pound brass guns with
carriages and all appliances.

This change did not meet with favor from all the members of the
battery, some particularly desiring to retain the old form of
organization, as they did not care for the mounted work; nor did they
relish the manner in which their captain, Woodworth, conducted the
drills and affairs of the battery, he being absent therefrom, and very
inattentive to the duties required of a company commander.

These members, therefore, turned their attention to the accomplishment
of a new organization in accordance with their desires, the proceedings
being entirely harmonious between all parties concerned.

With this object in view, they held a preliminary meeting pursuant to
the following notice:

 “You are requested to attend a meeting of the second company
 California Guard at the armory this evening, at 7 o’clock. Dated
 Monday, March 13, 1854.”

 At this meeting, or at one held perhaps a few days later, the name of
 the new organization must have been agreed upon, for in the columns
 of the _Daily Alta California_ under date of March 21, 1854, the
 following notice and order appears:

 “By virtue of the authority in me vested, I hereby appoint R. S. La
 Motte to superintend the election for officers of the ‘San Francisco
 City Guard’ as required by law. Dated, San Francisco, March 21, 1854.

 “J. H. CREIGH, County Judge.

 “In accordance with the above, an election for officers of the ‘San
 Francisco City Guard’ will be held at Armory Hall, on Friday evening,
 March 31, 1854, at 7:30 o’clock.

 “R. S. LA MOTTE.”

Pursuant to the above order, the twenty-two gentlemen previously
mentioned in this chapter met, and duly accomplished the organization
of the “San Francisco City Guard,” electing the following officers
and noncommissioned officers for the term of one year: Captain, John
A. Clark; 1st Lieutenant, George F. Watson; 2nd Lieutenant, R. McLean
Stephenson; Jr. 2nd Lieutenant, R. S. La Motte; Orderly Sergeant,
Thomas B. Parker; and Sergeants, in order of rank, E. W. Crowell, James
C. Briggs, who was also treasurer, John W. Conner; Q. M. Sergeant, H.
Frank Wadsworth; the corporals, in order of rank, were, Asa L. Loring,
P. R. Moore, Samuel C. Loring, and Charles Le Gay; Surgeon, J. Russel
Gerry, M. D.; Secretary, John Ames.

Of these charter members there are now living, H. D. La Motte, Lake
county, California; E. G. Hilton, New York; Charles Le Gay, Paris,
France. Doubtful, H. Frank Wadsworth and R. McLean Stephenson.

By-laws for this new company were adopted, and the drill night set for
Friday of each week.

Captain Clark spent a great deal of time and money in perfecting the
organization of his command. His donations were used principally in
purchasing the first uniform, which consisted of a close-fitting jacket
of a very light fawn color, all trimmings and pipings being of red; the
men wore any dark colored trousers. The uniform cap was a high affair
of blue material, trimmed with red. This is the only uniform worn by
the company for perhaps six or seven months, when a full dress was
adopted.

The company, being organized as artillery, drilled as such with a large
wooden bronzed model to represent a heavy gun. The drill, however, was
mostly as infantry, and all parades were made with the musket.

Upon a proper requisition from the captain upon the state authorities,
the quartermaster and adjutant general, the corps received the
following arms and accoutrements: 60 percussion muskets; 60 ammunition
and cap boxes, belts, and plates; 60 waist belts and plates; 60 musket
appendages; 60 artillery sabers, belts, and plates; the company
furnishing its own uniforms.

The organization thus becoming complete, the “San Francisco City Guard”
sailed bravely forth to buffet and battle with the vast unknown.

            “Like a stately ship,
  With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,
  Sails filled and streamers waving.”

The original company commander is described as being neither light nor
very dark complexioned, but with black hair, 5 feet 6 inches in height,
weighing in the neighborhood of 115 to 120 pounds--a small man. He was
full of life, however, quick-witted, and a noble-hearted fellow. His
father, Aran Clark, was at one time mayor of New York city. Coming to
California, Capt. Clark was for a long time deputy county recorder of
San Francisco. He died on November 22, 1877, at the age of 53 years,
while in the employ of the treasurer’s department at Washington.

Armory Hall, the first home of the “San Francisco City Guard,” was
situated on the northeast corner of Sacramento and Montgomery streets,
in Sam Brannan’s new building, having a frontage of 60 feet on both
thoroughfares. Four other companies also occupied this building, each
having separate company rooms in the third story, with the use of the
drill hall on the fourth for its allotted evening of the week.

Nothing that was particularly startling occurred during the balance of
this, to the “City Guard,” the most eventful year of 1854, nor during
the next for that matter, to mar the calm serenity of ordinary military
life. Drills, parades, outings, banquets, and social events vied with
each other to fill the interim; all of which served to interest, not
only the members themselves, but others as well, in the welfare of this
organization. Many prominent men joined the ranks of the “City Guard,”
and the high standing thus early attained served to place the company
on a firm and permanent basis, assuring to it a long, prosperous, and
most honorable existence.

To chronicle all the different incidents and happenings of this early
period, and those too of more recent dates, would be out of the
question at this present writing; prominent among them, however, we
find the following interesting items:

It was on the afternoon of the 3d of July, 1854, that the “San
Francisco City Guard” journeyed by water to the town of Martinez for
its initial excursion and outing, and, after celebrating the Fourth by
a parade, drill, and prize shoot, the corps returned homeward, being
received and escorted to the armory by the California Guard.

The 17th day of August following, found the company on the Oakland side
of the bay for the regular target practice and medal shoot. It was
upon this occasion that the company commander presented the now famous
“Clark Medal” to the corps, the conditions being that it remain a
permanent annual prize in the company. This medal is still the valued
property of the “City Guard,” and is placed in competition as provided
for in the original deed of gift. On one side of the large quartz medal
is inscribed: “‘City Guard,’organized March 31, 1854,” and on the
reverse side we have “Company medal, presented by Capt. John A. Clark,
August, 1854.”

It may be of general interest to the active guardsman of the present
day to learn that on April 25, 1855, the legislature of California duly
enrolled upon the statute books the law exempting active militiamen
from jury duty.

Armory Hall remained the home of the “City Guard” until the 1st of
June, 1855, when, during the following fifteen or sixteen months, the
company occupied three different armories, namely: No. 95 Battery
street, corner of Clay; northeast corner of Kearny and Clay, this being
the place where the reorganization took place as the “I.C.G.”; thence
to an armory, for a very short time, on the northeast corner of Halleck
and Sansome streets, over the American Theatre.

[Illustration: CAPTAIN JOHN A. CLARK.]




CHAPTER II.

“INDEPENDENT CITY GUARD.”


The political corruptions, ballot-box stuffing, and the great number
of homicides committed with impunity, were the causes leading up to
the Vigilance Committee of 1856. These criminals depended upon their
fellows, some of the worst then being themselves officials, to shield
them from prosecution and to again set them free. The opinion steadily
gained ground with the better element of society that it would be
utterly impossible to correct these evils by due process of law; still
none would make a move toward taking matters into their own hands, and
the worse element thus held full sway.

It was while popular feeling was thus strained to a high tension
that the _Evening Bulletin_ made its appearance, with James King, of
William, as editor. King devoted his energies in denouncing the crimes
and all criminals who had given most offense to the community.

The crisis finally came when this fearless editor, on May 14, 1856,
published in his journal the fact that James P. Casey, who had but
lately stuffed the ballot-box with his own name while inspector of
election, and had declared himself elected supervisor of the Twelfth
Ward, was a graduate of the New York state prison at Sing Sing, which
statement was true. Casey thereupon, within two hours, mortally wounded
King. The news of this fresh homicide spread like wildfire, and Casey’s
friends hurried him to jail, deeming it the safest place.

An immense congregation of excited citizens assembled on the Plaza,
closing upon and threatening to storm the jail in order to execute dire
vengeance upon the murderer. This crowd grew to wonderful proportions.

In the mean time the authorities were not idle; the military were
called upon to preserve order, and, in obedience to its sworn duty,
the “City Guard,” within an hour thereafter, left the armory (corner
Kearny and Clay) for the scene of trouble. Although the company had
but a short distance to go, it was a march to be long remembered, for
upon appearing on the street, the members met with a warm reception.
The crowd jeered, they stormed, they threatened, they threw all sorts
of missiles (no one was seriously injured however), did every thing
possible to impede their progress toward the jail, but with no avail.
These soldiers, putting all their personal feelings aside, were doing
but their duty, and they did that duty well.

Lieutenant Watson, who was in command during the absence of Captain
Clark in the East, had the muskets loaded with ball, and it became
necessary, not only to use the bayonet occasionally, but two or
three times was the command “aim” given, and the men silently and
with determination waited for the word “fire,” so were their tempers
worked upon by this time: it was a hot crowd. Fortunately for some
one, however, the mob gave way under this pressure, and the “Guard”
finally entered the jail, taking position best adapted for its proper
protection. Here the company remained all night and until 10:30 o’clock
the next day, when the excitement becoming somewhat abated, they
returned to the armory and were dismissed, with orders to report again
immediately upon hearing the alarm sounded.

This summons never came. But, on the other hand, notwithstanding the
prompt response and constant readiness of the boys to perform their
duty, Lieutenant Colonel West and Sheriff D. Scannell mistrusted them,
and quietly removed the arms and accoutrements from the armory that
day, thus leaving the organization without the means of effective
service. This high-handed proceeding upon their part was resented by
the “City Guard,” as will be shown by the following proceedings of a
meeting held at the armory at 2 o’clock P. M. of the following day, the
16th (it being duly advertised in the papers of that time), to take
into consideration the removal of arras and accoutrements from their
armory on the 15th instant:

“Lieutenant Watson in the chair.

“Lieutenant Colonel West appeared to explain his action in relation to
the removal of said arms and accoutrements, stating that said arms
were removed by order of Major General Sherman,[7] and that he held
himself personally responsible therefor.

[7] Commanding Second Division, C. S. M.

“After which the following resolutions were unanimously adopted:

“_Resolved_, that in the opinion of this corps we have been unjustly
and improperly deprived of our arms without the consent or knowledge of
our commandant.

“_Resolved, therefore_, that a committee be appointed to wait on
Colonel J. R. West and request the return of the arms, and, in the
event of said request not being complied with, the ‘City Guard’ do
immediately disband.

“Meeting adjourned to 7:30 o’clock P. M.

“Pursuant to adjournment, the corps assembled at the armory, when the
following preamble and resolutions were unanimously adopted upon the
call of the roll:

“WHEREAS, the request for the return of our arms and accoutrements has
been refused, we find ourselves wholly unable to equip our members, and
deprived of the power to respond, as ever heretofore, to the call of
duty that may be made upon us, therefore,

“_Resolved_, That the ‘City Guard’ do hereby disband.

“_Resolved_, That the events of the past few days prove that we have
ever held ourselves ready for the prompt discharge of a soldier’s duty.”

These resolutions were signed by the sixty-one members.

On Tuesday evening, May 27, 1856, the members again met and organized
the “Independent City Guard,” and elected the following officers and
non coms.: Captain, John A. Clark; First Lieutenant, George F. Watson;
Second Lieutenant, Asa L. Loring; Bvt. Second Lieutenant, Peter Van
Pelt; Orderly Sergeant, E. M. Crowell; Sergeants, Wm. H. Watson, H. Van
Pelt, Nathaniel M. Ford; Corporals, H. H. Thrall, Luke Wilder, John
Ames, and Chas. E. Rand; Quartermaster Sergeant, Ephram B. Clement;
Treasurer, W. H. Watson; Secretary, John Ames. By-laws were adopted on
June 25th following.

Through the generosity of the citizens who fully indorsed the action
of the company, the “Independent City Guard” was fully equipped with
a full set of arms and accoutrements similar to those taken away.
The donations thus furnished for the equipment amounted close on to
$2,000. The corps retained, of course, the uniforms previously adopted,
they being the personal property of its members.

Immediately following the shooting of King, and of the events above
described, many prominent business men and citizens determined upon
decisive action, and, without further delay, the Vigilance Committee
was formed, many companies armed and equipped. Within a comparatively
short time three thousand men were enrolled into the companies and
regiments thus raised. Although the “Independent City Guard” took no
part as an organization, the members individually did, and they played
a very prominent part in this array. Chas. Doane, afterwards captain
of the company, was Grand Marshal over all the troops, Watson and many
others being officers therein, while the balance went into the ranks.

On Tuesday, May 21st, Casey, together with Cora, who had killed United
States Marshal Richardson, were taken from jail, there being no
resistance, and hurried to the headquarters of the committee. There
they were tried, convicted, and both hanged on the 22d, the day that
King was buried.

The Law and Order Party were also well organized, and many conflicts
were narrowly averted. The committee’s troops, however, succeeded in
disarming the others, making them practically powerless.

Both the California Guard and the National Guard followed the example
of the “City Guard,” and formed independent organizations.

It may be well to here add that, in all, four persons were executed,
and a great many others were banished. On August 18th following,
all these troops, 5,137 in number, after a grand review and parade,
were mustered out, the object of the Vigilance Committee having been
accomplished.

The three years following this important epoch in the history of the
company were uneventful as to military requirements. The company
drilled regularly, besides parading on both stated and public occasions.

During the month of July, 1856, or perhaps a little earlier, the “I.
C. G.” moved from the armory then occupied to one at 112 Sacramento
street, between Montgomery and Sansome, where they remained until the
first month of 1860.

Captain Clark resigned on April 15, 1857, and 1st Lieutenant George F.
Watson was advanced to the captaincy on May 14th following, with Asa
L. Loring as 1st Lieutenant; Nat M. Ford 2nd Lieutenant; Benjamin H.
Freeman being Junior 2nd Lieutenant, and William C. Little Brevet 2nd
Lieutenant.

The company’s fancy uniform, modeled after the uniform of the City
Guard of New York, was adopted during either April or May of 1858,
nearly all having been made in the East; the first parade with them
took place on July 4th of the same year. The cost to each individual
member, including the high bearskin shako, was one hundred dollars.

May, 1858, found Lieutenant Freeman in command of the company, Watson,
Loring, and Ford having previously resigned. On June 6th following,
Charles Doane was elected captain, and John W. McKenzie 1st Lieutenant,
Freeman and and Little 2nd and Junior 2nd Lieutenants respectively. H.
H. Thrall being advanced to Brevet 2nd Lieutenant.

Here ends the career of the company as the “Independent City Guard,”
for on March 11th, 1859, the organization was again admitted into the
service of the state as the “City Guard,” being attached to the 2nd
Brigade, 2nd Div., C. S. M. Witness the following order:

 “WHEREAS, certain petitioners, citizens of the county of San
 Francisco, have presented to me, the undersigned, county judge of the
 county aforesaid, a memorial praying that they, the said citizens,
 being eligible to military duty, may be duly enrolled as a volunteer
 corps, attached to the Second Brigade, Second Division C. S. M., under
 the name of ‘City Guard,’

 “_Now, therefore_, in pursuance of authority vested in me, I do
 hereby nominate and appoint Captain Thomas D. Johns to superintend an
 election to be held by the subscribers aforesaid, on the 11th day of
 March, 1859, at No. 112 Sacramento street, for commissioned officers,
 in manner prescribed by law, between the hours of 7 and 10 P. M.

 “Witness the Honorable M. C. Blake, county judge of the county of San
 Francisco, this first day of March, one thousand eight hundred and
 fifty-nine.”

 [SIGNED] “M. C. BLAKE, County Judge.

 “Attest: WM. DUN, Clerk.

 “By D. P. BELKNAP, Deputy.”

In compliance with the above, the company met and duly organized the
“City Guard,” electing the same officers as on June 6, 1858, with
the exception that the position of brevet second lieutenant was left
vacant.




CHAPTER III.

“CITY GUARD” FROM 1860 TO 1870.


January 1, 1860, found the “City Guard” just located in their new
armory, in an iron building, situated on the north side of California
street, a few doors above Montgomery street, over Wells, Fargo & Co’s
Express. The Union Club occupied the corner over the bank. Many of the
“City Guard” members belonged to this club, and both headquarters were
connected by a doorway. Here the corps remained until November 20,
1865--nearly six years.

The re-election of Doane, McKenzie, Freeman, and Little occurred on
April 14th following, John Hill being raised to the dignity of brevet
second lieutenant.

Following close upon this election of officers, the First Battalion was
organized, which consisted of all three arms of the service, namely,
infantry, artillery, and cavalry. This organization was completed on
June 15, 1860, the companies comprising same being the “City Guard,”
“California Guard,” “Black Hussars,” “Light Guard,” “Fusileers,” and
“French Guard.” All of the members comprising these six companies
participated in the election for field officers, which was by ballot,
there being over two hundred votes cast. Captain Doane was duly elected
lieutenant colonel, commanding the battalion, and First Lieutenant
McKenzie was raised to the rank of major. The result of this election
gives to the “City Guard” the honor of furnishing the only two field
officers of an organization which afterwards became the nucleus for our
present First Regiment; the “National Guard” and “California Rifles”
being added later, in order to make the eight-company regiment.

In consequence of the above, another company election was necessarily
held for officers to fill vacancies. John A. Clark was again made
captain, _vice_ Doane; Asa L. Loring, first lieutenant, _vice_
McKenzie; Little and Freeman retaining their former positions, while
George J. Griffing was advanced to brevet second lieutenant, _vice_
Hill resigned.

We now come upon the eve of the War of the Rebellion. Fort Sumter
had been fired upon, and opportunities became numerous for able
generals, and brave men to show their mettle and loyalty to preserve
our glorious Union. In California, although far removed from the
seat of conflict, everyone took a lively interest in the progress of
hostilities. This state furnished many thousands of volunteers for the
strife, the proportion being very large for the then population; in
fact, California furnished many soldiers who were accredited to other
states, as history will plainly show. The “City Guard” furnished a
long list of fighters, among whom were the following: J. M. McNulty,
M. D., brigadier surgeon, California Volunteers; John Hill, lieutenant
with Colonel Baker, California Volunteers; J. P. Hackett, captain
Sixth Infantry, California Volunteers; Nat M. Ford quartermaster’s
department; Asa L. Loring; Robert S. La Motte, captain Thirteenth New
York, afterwards lieutenant-colonel United States Army; H. B. Mellon,
now retired, major United States army; William Bryan, Seventh New York;
George F. Watson, captain 180th New York Volunteers; W. C. Allen,
captain 101st New York Volunteers; Joseph Hilton, captain Twelfth New
York Volunteers; Joseph Henriques, captain Fourth New York Volunteers;
William Barstow, assistant adjutant general, General Dix’s staff; E.
G. Hilton, quartermaster’s department, and L. Parks, with California
Hundred. There are others, but the writer is unable at the present
time to name them. Many of these gentlemen rose to higher rank in the
service during the progress of the war.

The vast majority of people on this coast elected to maintain these
United States one and inseparable, still there were those who warmly
supported the secession, and conditions threatened at times to
become more serious in California than would have been agreeable to
peace-loving people. This would be particularly the case when any news
came of the defeat of the northern arms.

The provost marshal, who was on duty at all times, made many arrests of
those who were too outspoken, and the militia were constantly on the
alert, although they were but occasionally under arms. Armories had to
be guarded, however, and the “City Guard” did full well its share of
duty.

Throughout the period covered by this chapter the members of the “City
Guard” continued with their regular routine duties as required, with
occasional battalion drills and military ceremonies, parades and escort
duties, the latter being quite numerous. This company had no difficulty
whatever in keeping its ranks full of enthusiastic members, who made
the corps a truly crack organization.

The writer can give no better evidence or proof of the condition of the
“City Guard” than that offered in the adjutant general’s report for the
year 1861. In this report, speaking of the company, he says:

“This is one of the oldest and best drilled companies of the state, is
well officered and equipped, and composed of men who take much pride
in the military art--numbering eighty-eight men. Has had upon its roll
this year one hundred and forty-three members; has furnished from its
ranks during this year one brigadier general,[8] one surgeon, and one
captain of volunteers in the United States service, and three general
staff officers. Much praise is due the members of this company for the
military enterprise at all times displayed, and authorities of the
state can rely upon its efficiency for active service.”

[8] Lieutenant Colonel Charles Doane promoted brigadier general, 2nd
Brigade, 2nd Division, C. S. M.

The “First Regiment of Infantry, California Militia,” was organized on
May 28, 1861, with the previously named companies composing same. John
S. Ellis was elected colonel, J. W. McKenzie as lieutenant colonel and
Robert Pollock major. The companies taking the letters in accordance
with the dates of their original organization, as follows: “California
Guard, Company A,” “City Guard, Company B,” “National Guard, Company
C,” “Black Hussars, Company D,” “California Fusileers, Company E,”
“Light Guard, Company F,” “French Guard, Company G,” and “California
Rifles, Company H.” Many changes have since taken place in the
regimental organization, and now, July, 1894, of the original companies
there remain but three, namely, “City Guard, Company B,” “National
Guard, Company C,” and “Light Guard, Company F.”

At the annual election for officers of the company in 1861 the same
ones were continued in office, with the exception that the position of
brevet second lieutenant was left vacant, _vice_ Griffing.

Up to June 28, 1861, the “City Guard” drilled with, and used for the
purposes of the state, the same arms and accoutrements so kindly
furnished them by the citizens in 1856; at this time, however, the
state authorities issued the following to the company, all being of
the same pattern as previously owned by the corps: sixty muskets,
gun-slings, bayonets, and scabbards; sixty cartridge-boxes, belts and
plates; sixty waist-belts and plates, with the same number of cap
pouches; four sergeant’s swords and scabbards, belts and plates.

The several companies of the regiment wore different style uniforms,
representing, as has been said, all colors of the rainbow. The board of
officers determined upon adopting one for the entire regiment, one that
would be serviceable in case they were called upon for active duty.
They therefore addressed themselves to the citizens of San Francisco,
who soon came forward with the requisite amount to purchase same, and
along toward the middle of the year 1861 the regiment was finally
fitted out with a gray regimental uniform, the cost of which was twelve
dollars.

All the troops in the Second Brigade, Second Division, C. S. M.,
during the month of November, 1861, were required to take the oath of
allegiance before Judge Blake, in substance as follows: “To support
the constitution of the United States and of the state of California,
solemnly agreeing to defend both against all enemies, both foreign and
domestic.” The “City Guard” came forward with a larger membership than
any of the other companies.

The company was well received by the best society in the city of San
Francisco. This fact is abundantly evident from the many events that
transpired during its early history. It will be impossible, however,
to detail all the interesting social festivities of these days, but in
order that the writer’s assertions may carry conviction with it, the
following historical fact is recited: A military and civic subscription
ball was given at Platt’s Hall, on the evening of Friday, December
27, 1861, complimentary to the officers of the Russian steam corvette
_Calevala_, by the citizens of San Francisco, as a token of the public
appreciation of the friendly spirit manifested by the Emperor of all
the Russias toward our federal government. All arrangements for this
ball were confided to the members of the “City Guard” by a committee
of the most prominent people. Lieutenant Wm. C. Little was floor
manager, assisted by four noncommissioned officers of the company.
Captain Clark, chairman of the reception committee, was assisted by all
the other members of the company, every one being in the full fancy
uniform of the corps. The “press,” in describing the affair, spoke thus
of the “City Guard”: “One of the most spirited and efficient of our
local uniform militia companies, whose proverbial good taste was fully
sustained in the admirable manner in which the ball was conducted.”

In May, 1862, Little was advanced to Second Lieutenant, _vice_ Freeman,
Fred W. Macondry, Jr., was made junior second lieutenant, _vice_ Little
promoted. The result of the election for officers of the company with
rank, from August 8th, following was: Captain, Wm. C. Little, _vice_
Clark, promoted lieutenant colonel First Regiment; Fred W. Macondry,
Jr., first lieutenant, _vice_ Loring; R. M. Noyes, second lieutenant,
_vice_ Little promoted; John Hoyt as junior second lieutenant, _vice_
Macondry promoted. This quartet of officers remained thus until
September 4, 1865.

The first camp of the state militia was held in May, 1863, in pursuance
to orders from general headquarters. This camp was named “Stanford”
after the commander in chief, and the expense was borne by the state.

The legislature of California opened its heart to help the
militia financially, on April 25, 1863, the first time on record.
Appropriations were made for its maintenance, three hundred dollars
per year for each company of infantry, besides requiring the counties
to furnish twenty-five dollars per month for armory rents. It also
provided for two encampments, the above being one of them, and for
full-dress uniforms for the entire force. These, made of blue, were
issued during same year. It also passed the clause to exempt militiamen
from jury duty after serving faithfully for a period of seven years.

Company B, “City Guard,” First Regiment of Infantry, participated as a
company in its first camp, a Second Brigade affair, from the 6th to the
16th of October, 1863. Camp Allen, named after the commander of the
Second Division, was held near San Antonio, Alameda county, the state
defraying the expense.

The company received its first improved arms on February 20, 1865.
These were the “rifle muskets” of 58 caliber, model 1861. Sixty of
these, together with a full set of accoutrements, the same kind as
before used, were issued to the Company, and those previously carried
were returned to general headquarters during the following month.
Twenty extra muskets came to the company during October following.

In April of the same year, when the news of the assassination of our
martyred President, Abraham Lincoln, was received, San Francisco became
wild with excitement; mobs quickly gathered, and endeavored to wreck
the printing-offices of those who had advocated secession, and of those
who had been so rabid in their utterances that they had really done
the next thing but actually advocate the killing of the President. The
feeling against these people can well be imagined. Some considerable
damage was done before the authorities were able to act; finally, when
the militia was called upon, the “City Guard” was the first company to
report at the rendevous, and it was the only company whose every member
was in complete uniform. Guards were kept on the other offices that
had escaped the fury of the mob up to this time. Guards were also kept
over loyal newspapers, for fear that the rioters would so far forget
themselves as to wreck them too. Considerable trouble was experienced,
and many broken heads was the result. As soon as matters quieted down
the troops were dismissed.

Little was again re-elected September 4, 1865, with William M. Noyes
as first lieutenant, _vice_ Macondry; George W. Granniss, second
lieutenant, _vice_ Noyes promoted; T. Van Tassel, junior second
lieutenant, date from October 3, 1865, _vice_ Hoyt. The latter remained
in his position but a short time, going again into the ranks, presumed
to be upon the reorganization as the National Guard of California.

On November 20, 1865, the company moved from California street to an
armory situated on the top floor of a three-story building on the south
side of Market street, opposite Dupont. Remaining there until April
following.

April 2, 1868, saw the last of the “California State Militia,” for upon
this date the Legislature passed the law creating the “National Guard
of California,” together with a general revision of the codes governing
the state forces. Among the principal features of this bill we find: A
limit to the number of companies; allowing but three officers to each
infantry company, same to hold office for two years; field officers to
be elected for four years.

Soon after this bill became a law a complete reorganization took place,
and many companies were necessarily mustered out of the service. Orders
were issued from general headquarters on July 12, 1866 (see S. O. No.
3 series of 1866), directing the immediate organization of the Second
Brigade, in accordance with this law. This was accomplished the next
month.

The “City Guard” Company B, retained its position in the First
Regiment, and sixty-seven members of the company took the following
oath on the twenty-first day of August, 1866, before the mustering-in
officer, Major George W. Smiley, Asst. Adj. Gen., 2nd Brig., N. G. C.

  “COMPANY “B,” FIRST REGIMENT INFANTRY; SECOND BRIGADE,
  N. G. C.

           “STATE OF CALIFORNIA,     }       _ss_.
  “City and County of San Francisco. }

  “You do solemnly swear and pledge your honor that you
  “will support the constitution of the United States, and the
  “constitution of the state of California, and that you will
  “maintain and defend the laws and all officers lawfully employed
  “in administering the same.”

Little, Noyes, and Granniss were retained as the three company
officers, Van Tassel taking the oath as a private.

April 24, 1866, again found the “City Guard” located in a new armory,
this time at No. 617 Howard street, opposite New Montgomery, in the
second story, the California Guard being on the ground floor. This was
its home until February, 1871.

During October, 1866, the company received eighty new full-dress
uniforms from the state. They were of the same pattern as those of
1863, but without the piping of white cord.

George W. Granniss was elected captain during October also, _vice_
Little, promoted major; Stephen H. Smith, first lieutenant, _vice_
Noyes; and David Wilder, second lieutenant, _vice_ Granniss promoted.

Two years after, October 19, 1868, found another change in officers.
Granniss having been elected major, Douglass Gunn was elected captain,
and Chalmers Scott first lieutenant, _vice_ Smith. Wilder was
re-elected second lieutenant. Gunn resigned, and Chalmers Scott was
raised to the captaincy on November 1, 1869. At the same time Wilder
was made first lieutenant, and Horace D. Ranlett, second lieutenant.

During the latter part of 1869 the company readopted the “fancy
uniform,” which lasted, as near as the writer can determine, until 1874
or 1875. It was not worn much, however, during the latter part of the
period named.

During the month of November, 1869, a fire occurred, which did
considerable damage to the arms and accoutrements of the company.
These arms and accoutrements were condemned by a Board of Survey, and
new ones issued on December 21st following, those damaged having been
returned to the state authorities.




CHAPTER IV.

FROM 1870 TO 1880.


With July, 1870, came another change in the officers of the company,
Thomas J. Johnson being elected captain, to rank from April 15th,
_vice_ Scott, resigned on account of his removal to the southern
portion of the state, the other officers retaining their former
positions.

Following close upon this election of officers, the company received
a full fatigue uniform through the exertions of Colonel Barnes. The
description of this uniform is not at hand at the present time, but it
is presumed that the only addition was a blue single-breasted blouse of
about the pattern now (1894) worn, together with the regulation cap.

The building on the northwest corner of Howard and New Montgomery
streets became the armory of the “City Guard,” in February, 1871.
The company occupied rooms on the second floor, together with other
companies of the regiment, the first drill being held on the 7th of
that month. This place was retained as headquarters until November,
1875.

1st Lieutenant David Wilder was elected captain, to rank from March
14, 1871, _vice_ Johnson, resigned on account of sickness. Ranlett was
promoted to the 1st lieutenancy, and J. Henry P. Gedge to fill the
position left vacant by Ranlett, both to rank from March 23d.

An organization in Amador county, this state, known as the Laborers’
League, was formed for the protection of white labor, and not only
miners, but many others, belonged to it. They assumed to fix the wages
to suit themselves, and any one who refused to accept their terms was
not allowed to work. Trouble, therefore, ensued between them and the
mine-owners, as the latter would not recognize the right of the league
to interfere in their business arrangements. A strike was ordered in
consequence. The mines were shut down, for the league would not allow
any one to work, not even at the pumps, in order to keep the mines
free from water. Damages to the extent of about $75,000 having been
accomplished by the strikers, the owners of these mines called upon the
governor for protection.

This was the condition of affairs on June 22, 1871, when Colonel W. H.
L. Barnes, commanding the First Infantry, received orders from general
headquarters at Sacramento to immediately detail a battalion of two
companies for service in the field. The entire regiment was assembled,
“B” reporting with forty-eight rank and file, but companies “C” and
“E” were selected for this campaign. As more men were necessary than
were available in the companies named, details from the balance of the
regiment were made to fill up the ranks of the battalion. Although the
“B” boys were all anxious to go, Captain Wilder was only allowed to
detail one sergeant, two corporals, and ten privates, namely: Sergeant
T. N. Weightman, Corporals James J. E. Hawkins and Arthur A. Palmer,
Privates George G. Bergstrom, Charles W. Bryant, James M. Guerin,
August G. Jenny, John Martin, William V. McConnell, Harry F. Middleton,
William M. Noyes, E. E. Stacy, and H. Nelson Wright. The battalion was
under the command of Major J. F. Bronson.

The detailed battalion left the same day that the order was received,
and was gone twenty-seven days. Their duty was performed so well that
they experienced no trouble from the miners.

Major Bronson died soon after his arrival home, caused by the exposure
during the campaign. C. Poindexter gives evidence to the fact that
James Guerin of “B” also died from the same causes after arriving at
his home.

In the latter part of the year 1871, another fire occurred in the
armory of the “City Guard,” this time destroying the records of
the company, and doing great damage to the arms and other property
of the organization. S. O., No. 34, series of 1871, from general
headquarters at Sacramento, and dated December 20th, condemns the arms
and accoutrements of the “City Guard,” Company B, First Regiment of
Infantry, N. G. C., _which were damaged by fire_, and a requisition for
new approved.

Lieutenant Gedge resigned on December 28, 1872, and Sidney M. Smith was
elected second lieutenant to fill this vacancy, with rank from January
2, 1873. June 5th following found Wilder re-elected to the captaincy,
while Smith was advanced to first lieutenant, _vice_ Ranlett; Henry A.
Plate, second lieutenant, _vice_ Smith promoted.

In 1873 the First Regiment received new arms and equipments, and the
new regulation uniform. General Order No. 1, from headquarters of the
National Guard of California, dated January 30, 1873, adopts the United
States regulation uniform for the forces of this state. These arms
and equipments, together with the uniforms, were paid for through the
efforts of Colonel W. H. L. Barnes, who raised upwards of $30,000 to
pay for same. These rifles were the first of the breech-loaders to be
received by any organization on the coast, and it was because of the
energetic leaders that the regiment was so fitted out. On June 22d the
“City Guard” received its quota of the new arms, duplicate receipts
being given to Colonel Barnes, Lieutenant Colonel George W. Granniss,
and Major Oscar Woodhams, as trustees for said property, the same to
be returned upon demand, viz., sixty each of the following: Sharp’s
metallic cartridge army rifles, caliber fifty and model new, bayonets,
cartridge boxes and plates, cartridge-box belts, waist-belts and
plates, uniform hats. The company returned the old ones to Sacramento
on the 25th, three days later.

The uniform adopted was of the same general description as that of
1866, with perhaps a few minor changes.

The following officers were elected with rank from April 1, 1875: Henry
A. Plate, captain, _vice_ Wilder promoted major; Thomas J. O’Keeffe,
first lieutenant, _vice_ Smith; Edward F. Sellick, second lieutenant,
_vice_ Plate promoted.


COMPANY BADGE.

The first mention of a badge for the company was made on October 9,
1873, a number of designs being offered, but no immediate action was
taken. Between this date and the New Year discussions were had upon
the subject, and in February, 1874, an attempt was made to abandon the
idea, but this was voted down. Matters rested until the early months of
the following year, when about fifteen designs were again offered, and
from these, five or six of the best ones selected, and given into the
hands of a committee. This committee made up one design, adopting the
best features of those in hand, and presented the result to the company
for final action. This badge was accepted, as near as the writer can
determine, some time during June, 1875. A _facsimile_ of this badge can
be seen on the cover of this book.

The “City Guard,” together with the entire regiment, participated in
the 2nd brigade encampment held at San Rafael on the 20th, 21st, and
22d of May, 1875, Brevet Major General W. L. Elliott, U. S. A., being
in command. Quite a number of United States troops were also present.

One of the most pleasing episodes in the history of the company
occurred on August 7, 1875, when Captain Plate, on behalf of himself
and sister, Miss Josie Plate, presented to the organization a beautiful
silk national flag, which has ever been prized most highly by the
members of the “City Guard,” and many are the times that they have
paraded beneath its classic folds.

Upon this same evening the captain also presented to the company what
is known as the Plate Badge. This badge is the permanent property
of the “City Guard,” and it is annually placed in competition as a
shooting decoration. This badge is described as a massive scroll
shield, weighing almost two ounces in gold. In the center of this
shield is the monogram “C. G.” in large lettering, surmounted by a
bear, over which stands in bold relief the name “Plate Badge,” all
of which is enameled in black, the groundwork being beautifully hand
chased. On the reverse side is the following inscription: Presented to
the “City Guard” by Captain H. A. Plate, August 7, 1875. Miss Josie
Plate was elected an honorary member of the company on the 19th of
August. She is the only lady who has that distinction.

Some time previous to September, 1875, this company received the
breech-loading Springfield rifle from the state authorities. These are
the 45-70 now in use. Sixty were allotted to “B.”

The second week of November of this year found the company located in a
new home. This time the move was made to No. 318 Post street, opposite
the square, between Stockton and Powell streets, on the north side.
This armory was owned and occupied by Company C, the “National Guard”
of the First. Here the “City Guard” remained until the last of July,
1879.

Another beautiful annual shooting prize was presented to the company by
Miss May C. Bourn, on the evening of May 4, 1876. This handsome affair
is in the shape of a heavy solid silver cup or vase, and is known
generally as the “Bourn Cup.” The winner of this cup holds it for one
year, when it is then again competed for.

Not to be outdone by others in this era of beautiful gifts, Color
Corporal Louis R. Townsend, the old-old veteran, came gallantly
forward on July 4th with another very appropriate gift to the company
of a flag-case. This flag-case is built of oak and ebony woods, with
the entire front of glass. It is sufficiently large to hold the
full spread of the “City Guard” flag so kindly presented during the
previous year. The case, with the flag therein, now adorns the wall of
“B’s” headquarters. With the true characteristic feeling of a “City
Guard” veteran, and a true soldier, the corporal caused the following
inscription to be carved upon the base of this gift:

  Beneath thy folds we march at duty’s call,
  With thee we’ll conquer, or with thee we’ll fall.

On October 20, 1876, the company was under arms in anticipation of a
riot and threats of attack upon the Chinese quarter of San Francisco.
November 7th following found the organization again under arms,
and this, too, for the same reason. The National Guard was held in
readiness during this period for active duty, there being considerable
excitement in the city over the troubles caused by unscrupulous
agitators.

December 28th found the “City Guard Rifle Range” completed at San
Bruno. This range was the gift of Captain Plate, who with William
Unger, Charles Slocum, and the old veteran Lou Townsend, devoted their
labor to its construction. This range was used for a good many years;
but, finally, on account of the time lost in traveling to and fro, and
to the lack of interest in shooting, it was finally given up.

At the election for officers in 1877 John H. Dickinson was elected
Captain, _vice_ Plate; E. F. Selleck, First Lieutenant, _vice_
O’Keeffe; and Louis R. Townsend, Second Lieutenant, _vice_ Selleck
promoted; all to rank from April 5th.

The excitement of the previous year continued well into 1877 and
1878, and things began to get warmer and warmer for the Chinese as
time rolled on. Kearney and his crowd of agitators were at work,
endeavoring, as they claimed, to drive the hated race from our shores.
Matters got beyond the control of the local authorities, and they
called upon the governor for aid. That part of the National Guard
located in San Francisco was ordered under arms on July 23, 1877,
and were held in its armories for a period of seven days. The Safety
Committee, having been organized into pick-handle brigades, patrolled
the streets of the city, while the organized and well-disciplined
troops were cooped up in their armories, and were not allowed to do the
duty which they had taken an oath to perform. Was this not strange?
Perhaps the following will serve to explain matters somewhat.

The chief of police, together with the other civil authorities, was
jealous of his powers, and feared to put matters into the hands of the
military. Why? Because they feared that some one else would reap a
little benefit besides themselves, and that they might lose a vote or
two, perhaps. ’Tis the same old story, which is told and retold so many
times over, jealousy and the narrow-minded policy of self-interest. In
the absence of martial law the civil authorities were, of course, in
full control, and the military were subservient unto them. They saw
fit to keep disciplined organizations in their armories, while the
undisciplined citizens were parading the streets with their bits of
wood. Time and again have the National Guards of our different states
been placed in just such a predicament, and when politics are thrust
into the background, and civil offices are occupied by fair-minded men
whose sole aim is the welfare of the state, and not till then, will the
National Guard occupy the place designed for it in the government of
our country.

But we’re outflanking our story. Therefore to resume. These much abused
civil authorities must have become ashamed of themselves, for, upon
the night of July 29th, they detailed the military to the water-front
in order that they might protect the piles of potatoes that were
strewn around on the wharves. From what? It must have been from the
wharf-rats, as all trouble had ceased to exist in the city, as is
evidenced by the fact that next morning, the 30th, all were dismissed
to their homes, military, pick-handle brigades, and all.

On November 10th, the troops were again called out for duty for a
period of nine days, the cause being the same as above stated. Again,
on January 16, 1878, the troops were called upon for aid in quelling
rioters. This time their tour of duty lasted for eleven days. It is
needless to say that the “City Guard” was prominent among the city’s
defenders, even to the guarding of the potato-sacks.

The “City Guard” participated in the regimental encampment held at
Sacramento from September 18th to the 22d, 1878, inclusive. This camp
was named after the Commander-in-chief, Governor Irwin. It was at
this camp that the State Agricultural Society gave two prizes for a
competitive drill. Each competing company was to drill for an hour,
three regular army officers being judges. Company “D” of the First took
the first prize of $300, and the “City Guard” the second of $200. The
first prize was won by but a very few points indeed.

April 5, 1879, found Captain Dickinson and First Lieutenant Selleck
re-elected, and Henry A. Plate as 2d Lieutenant to rank from the same
date, _vice_ Townsend.

The company was on duty again during the Kalloch-De Young troubles of
1879. The members, with few exceptions, placed their pay direct into
the treasury of the company.

On August 1st of this year the company removed from the armory then
occupied to No. 428 Post street, north side, between Powell and Mason
streets. The building was once known as Mrs. Mirasole’s dancing
academy. Many a good time was had there, too. Here the company remained
until June 1, 1881.

Camp Walsh was the camp pitched by the First Regiment at Sacramento,
from September 10th to the 14th, 1879, inclusive. The members of the
“City Guard” enjoyed themselves very much indeed at this camp.

During the ten years covered by this chapter the “City Guard” of course
paid considerable attention to the social features that necessarily
take place in an organization of this kind. Parties, picnics, target
excursions, out-of-town trips, camps, and rackets claimed their proper
attention. It became hard, however, for company commanders to keep
their companies up to a proper military standard, and the attention
to these duties was of a lukewarm nature. A great many things worked
against the making of prosperous commands. The “City Guard” felt the
influences of these conditions, and continued to feel them, too, away
along toward the middle of the eighties, when new life was gradually
let into the organization, and conditions became more encouraging and
satisfactory to those who took the deepest interest in company affairs.




CHAPTER V.

FROM 1880 TO 1894.


Early in the year 1880 the company experienced quite a boom in
membership, the roll reaching to considerable proportions, prizes
having been offered to the two members who would do the most recruiting
within a given time. The company had in view the new uniforms to be
presented by a committee of citizens, and it was the general desire
that the roll be increased. The “City Guard” duly received its
proportion of these uniforms, which were the regulation as previously
worn.

First Sergeant Paul E. Scott was, on April 5th, elected second
lieutenant, _vice_ H. A. Plate resigned. On July 26th, following,
Selleck was made captain, _vice_ Dickinson promoted Colonel First
Infantry, and J. C. B. Hebbard, first lieutenant, _vice_ Selleck
promoted.

That part of the Second Brigade located in San Francisco was on duty at
the county jail, and in their armories, during the troubles of April,
1880, when Chas. de Young was shot by young Kalloch. The companies
were hastily summoned, but again dismissed in a few days, when the
excitement had subsided.

Camp Barnes, regimental, in which this company participated, was held
at Sacramento from the 18th to the 26th of September, 1880. While
returning to San Francisco, the train bearing the regiment, ran into
an open switch on the Oakland Mole. Engineer Wm. C. Browne, by his
presence of mind and heroic action in sticking to his post of duty,
saved the members of the regiment from a fearful death, he being the
only one who lost his life. The engine went through the wharf into the
bay, and, when afterwards found, Browne was still standing upright,
with his hand on the throttle, dead. Proper action was taken by the
board of officers, in an elaborate set of resolutions, and substantial
aid was given to his mother and sister, who were dependent upon him for
support.

The next camp, Camp Upton, was held at Santa Cruz from the 2d to the
10th of July, 1881.

On June 1, 1881, the “City Guard” took possession of its new quarters
on the N. W. corner of Howard and New Montgomery streets, this being
the second time that the company had had its armory upon that corner.
This was also regimental headquarters; remained there until early in
1888.

Samuel J. Taylor was elected first lieutenant, _vice_ Hebbard resigned,
on June 27, 1881, and, on the 15th of September following, August F.
Plate was made second lieutenant, _vice_ Scott resigned. March 2, 1882,
found Taylor captain, _vice_ Selleck retired; Plate, first lieutenant,
_vice_ Taylor promoted, and J. C. Conrad, second lieutenant, _vice_
Plate promoted.

The regimental camps of the two following years, 1882 and 1883, were
held at San Jose, from July 1st to the 9th of each year. In both cases
a return trip was made to San Francisco for the Fourth of July parade,
the regiment reaching San Jose again in time for the parade there in
the evening. The camp of 1882 was named Camp Sheehan, and that of 1883
Camp San Jose.

Second Lieutenant Conrad resigned on July 11, 1883. Francis J. Kremple
was elected first lieutenant, _vice_ Plate resigned, to rank from
December 12, 1883, the second lieutenancy being left vacant.

In 1884 the regimental camp was held at Santa Rosa from the 6th to the
14th of September.

The first division camp held by the State troops was at Santa Cruz,
from August 15th to the 23d, 1885, the camp being named after the
Commander in Chief, Governor Stoneman. Company “B” was comfortably
situated in its quarters with the regiment, and cheerfully performed
all duties required. The First Regiment, through its own commissary,
furnished the meals to its members; other regiments, however, were not
so fortunate, they depending upon a caterer for their subsistence.
This caterer furnished any thing but what was satisfactory to the men,
the principal “kick” being against so much “tripe,” which was served
out too frequently for their tastes. After the sham battle of Saturday
the hill upon which it took place was christened “Tripe Hill,” and is
known as such to this day.

Frank J. Warren succeeded Kremple as first lieutenant on May 28, 1885,
the latter having resigned; the second lieutenancy being left vacant.
Ex-First Sergeant George R. Burdick was elected to the captaincy of
the company on October 22, 1885, _vice_ Taylor promoted major of the
regiment. There was no second lieutenant.

Major Taylor, upon leaving the “City Guard,” presented the company with
what is known as the “Taylor Badge.” The inscription on the back of
this handsome gift is as follows: First prize, Thanksgiving Day Shoot.
Taylor. November 26, 1885.

The so-called Sutter street riots, including both the Sutter and
Geary cable roads, received the attention of the forces of the Second
Brigade, although they were not sent out against the rioters, the
police being ample for that purpose. Heavy guards were kept at the
armories, however, for nearly two months. Dynamite and coercion were
used by small parties of the strikers and individuals, but as a body
they made no riotous demonstrations. The armory guards were posted on
December 13, 1886, and were continued until February, 1887. Many of the
members who then belonged to the “City Guard” will perhaps remember
the pay received, and will undoubtedly remember the “one dollar and
sixty cents” chalked all over the city’s walls and fences, with the
accompanying witticisms of would be wags. The pay of the enlisted man
was as follows: Allowance for meals, seventy-five cents; for quarters,
forty cents; for pay proper, forty-five cents; a grand total of one
dollar and sixty cents for a day of twenty-four hours. Officers
received nothing whatsoever.

 “Soldier, will you work”?

Irving B. Cook was elected first lieutenant, to rank from May 19, 1887,
_vice_ Warren appointed signal officer, regimental staff.

The first brigade camp held for quite a number of years was at
Healdsburg for eight days, from the 2d to the 10th of July, 1887.
Camp Bartlett was named after the governor, and commander in chief.
Company “B” made its accustomed showing at this school of instruction,
occupying the street allotted to it by the regimental commander.

This camp was styled the “Jonah camp” by the boys, as three deaths
occurred, two by drowning, and one, Sergeant Major William Mitchell,
appointed from this company, died from the effects of exposure.

The “City Guard” moved into its present quarters, at 1327 Market
street, on April 4, 1888. The company expended a great deal of money in
fitting its rooms up appropriately. “B,” with companies “A,” “D,” “F,”
and “H,” leased this armory, which had been built expressly for them,
for a period of ten years, each having two rooms for the use of its
members.

San Jose, for the third time, received the regimental camp, for the
year 1888, on July 21st, for eight days.

The company received new uniforms during the year 1888. These were
the United States regulation as previously worn. The state furnished
this lot of uniforms, and the general fit of them was some thing
terrible to look upon, being the fault of the contractors. Ten new
Springfield rifles, model of 1883, came to the headquarters of company
“B,” these rifles being an improvement over those of 1873, in that the
safety notch was added, with the Burlington rear and front sights. At
different times subsequent to 1888 two more issues were made of ten and
nine respectively.

At a social reunion of the “City Guard,” on Monday evening, October 22,
1888, L. D. Stone, Esq., an honorary member of the company, presented
the organization with a magnificent bearskin screen.

Camp Orton, named after the Adjutant General of this State, was a
regimental camp held at Santa Rosa, from the 20th to the 28th of July,
1889. The next two were Second Brigade affairs, both being held at
Santa Cruz--that of 1890, Camp Waterman, from the 16th to the 24th of
August, and that of 1891, Camp Markham, from the 4th, after parade,
to the 12th of July. In all three of these camps the “City Guard”
participated.

On October 28, 1889, F. A. Baldwin was elected 2nd Lieutenant, _vice_
self, resigned October 5, 1888, the vacancy not having been filled in
the mean time.

By an amendment to the codes governing the National Guard of California
the Legislature authorized the issuance of service medals for ten
years and upward, the material being of bronze with a bronze bar for
ten years, silver bar for fifteen, and a gold bar for twenty years’
service.

On January 10, 1891, First Lieutenant Irving B. Cook was elected
captain, _vice_ Burdick promoted major. Upon the same date, First
Sergeant Charles J. Wesson was raised to the dignity of first
lieutenant, _vice_ Cook promoted. On June 22d, same year, Edward C.
Lundquist took Baldwin’s position as second lieutenant, he having
resigned, and, on April 25, 1892, Lundquist was promoted to first
lieutenant, _vice_ Wesson resigned, George Filmer taking the second
lieutenancy upon the same evening, _vice_ Lundquist promoted.

The second division camp, Camp Columbus, was held at Santa Cruz,
from the 5th to the 13th of August, 1892, Major General W. H. Dimond
commanding.

Perhaps the most enjoyable and most satisfactory camp participated in
by the members of “B” was “Camp City Guard,” a company affair held for
five days at Stockton in 1893, from July 1st to the morning of the 6th.
The river steamer _Mary Garratt_ was chartered for the transportation
of the men both ways. Companies “A” and “B” of the Sixth Infantry,
located at Stockton, headed by their band, escorted the “City Guard,”
upon their arrival, to Goodwater Grove, where the advance guard had
already pitched the tents. Regular routine duty was immediately
inaugurated. Fifty-nine officers and men participated in Camp “City
Guard,” and all regretted the time for leaving, the reception
accorded them by the boys and citizens of Stockton having been most
pleasing indeed. The expense of this camp was paid out of the company
treasury, and amounted to a little less than $4 per man, including
transportation, entertaining, and every thing.

Early in the year 1894 new fatigue uniforms were issued to the guard.
The Legislature, in 1893, practically did away with the regulation full
dress, giving to regimental organizations the privilege of adopting a
distinct uniform, to be purchased at their own expense. (None have thus
far availed themselves of said privilege.)

[Illustration: ARMORY OF THE FIRST REGIMENT INFANTRY, N. G. C., COR.
TENTH AND MARKET STS., SAN FRANCISCO, CAL.]

One of the crowning glories of the “City Guard,” “B” Company, First
Infantry, N. G. C., was when the company received the elegant Silver
Loving Cup, a trophy presented by Major General W. H. Dimond to the
regiment for competition by the seven companies, and cadets composing
same, while at Camp Dimond, Santa Cruz, covering the eight days from
June 16th to the 24th, 1894. The judges for this competition were
First Lieutenant George W. McIver, Seventh Infantry, U. S. A.; First
Lieutenant E. C. Holly, Fourth Infantry, U. S. A.; and Captain T. J.
Cunningham, Second Artillery, N. G. C.

This trial for supremacy was to continue for the entire week at
camp, the conditions being the best general discipline, deportment,
promptness in performing all military duties, knowledge of said duties,
general appearance of the men, both in camp and in town, best general
condition of tents and company streets, soldierly bearing of the men,
general efficiency in drill for the entire week, and the manner of
conducting same, and any other military details that the judges may
notice. All to end with a competitive drill at the end of the week.

On the Sunday that the regiment returned from camp General Dickinson
presented the cup to the company, the judges having unanimously decided
that the City Guard had fairly won it.

The writer has given in chapter 6 of this history a narrative of the
company in musket and rifle practice, together with the improvements
made in arms and shooting conditions, since its organization in 1854.
It will be noted that “B” company is not only well up in drill, but the
members know how to shoot also, as the following chapter will amply
demonstrate.

It is certainly unfortunate that lack of both time and space will
not allow of detailed descriptions of the “City Guard’s” many social
and pleasurable events of the past forty years; it would indeed fill
volumes to enumerate them all. For the same reasons the long list
of members cannot be given at this writing. Notwithstanding these
conditions, every one who has ever been actively connected with the
old “City Guard” will assuredly recall the different events that
transpired during his time as though it were but yesterday. Think of
the many parties, musicales, rackets, two-day outings you have enjoyed;
banquets, smokers, and many, many other celebrations of the past, and
recall the many happy days spent with comrades in the ranks of your old
love, the “City Guard.”




CHAPTER VI.

FORTY-ONE YEARS’ TARGET PRACTICE.


The first experience of the “City Guard” in rifle, or rather musket,
practice, was on July 4, 1854, at Martinez. Upon that occasion the
members shot for an elegant gold watch, which had been donated by a
friend of the organization. One shot only was allowed each man at a
target placed sixty yards distant. The firearm used was the one then
carried by the corps. This shoot was not the regular one as required by
law.

The company journeyed to the Oakland side of the bay on the 18th of
August following, for its regular medal and prize competition. This is
where the “Clark” medal first made its appearance, and constituted the
chief prize.

The gun used in the early days of target practice, and as issued by our
State to the company, was the old style muzzle loading, smooth bore
percussion musket, model of 1842, with a very long barrel, one upon the
muzzle of which an average size man could easily rest his chin while
standing, the butt of the piece being on the ground. The caliber of
this firearm was .69 of an inch. Members were allowed to use any charge
powder they wished, the bullet being round. This musket superseded
the old “flint lock.” No dependence could be placed upon it for close
shooting, however, even at the short range of those days. It continued
to be the principal arm of the California service until 1865, when an
improved musket was issued.

The regulation target consisted of a one-inch board painted white, 22
inches wide by 6 feet long in the clear, to represent the size of a
man, without taking the outline of one. The bull’s-eye was black and
round, 4 inches in diameter, and placed equidistant from each edge
of the target, and two feet from the top. Three shots were allowed
each man, their value being determined by “string measure,” that is,
the distance from center of bullet hole to center of bull’s-eye. The
aggregate of each man’s three shots was taken, and the one with the
shortest “string” took first prize, the next shortest the second, and
so on. All misses, and there were many of them, counted forty-nine and
one-half inches, this being the distance from the bull’s-eye to the
extreme lower corners of the target. Many times did the average number
of hits fall below 40 per cent of the shots fired.

Other styles of targets were sometimes used by the company, but when
this was done it was an exception to the general rule. A round target,
two feet in diameter, occasionally met with favor, and upon one or
two days of that period the company put up a target which represented
the figure of an Indian warrior, nicely painted, bearing the usual
bull’s-eye. The guests, as a general thing, fired away at a round
target about thirty inches in diameter.

Three judges, usually officers of other military organizations, and
selected from the guests of the company, and who were generally
stationed at a safe distance from one flank of the target, did the
marking and scoring. A shot having been fired, they hastened to
investigate the result, and, finding a hit, would duly measure it,
plug up the hole with a wooden or cork plug furnished for the purpose,
and number it to correspond with the man shooting, also numbering the
target alongside the shot. Before retiring they would indicate the shot
to the firing point by pointing at it, and if a miss by waving a white
handkerchief. The judges kept the score by recording the value of each
shot in a book kept for that purpose against the man’s number. After
the close of the competition, then would the winners be declared, and
prizes distributed at once. It took a long time for a company of say
forty or forty-five men to shoot under these conditions. This is why
only three shots were allowed.

An elegant lunch was always provided by the members of the “City Guard”
upon the shooting days, and the commissary wagon was loaded down with
all good things that money could buy. In the evening it was the usual
thing for them to entertain their guests at a banquet given at some
well-known hotel of the city. These excursions cost a great deal of
money, which was generally provided for by assessing the members. This
custom remained in vogue for quite a number of years. In 1861, when the
“City Guard” became Company “B” of the First Infantry.

1860 brought with it the first change in the regulation target, by the
addition of a vertical and a horizontal black stripe, four inches in
width, each passing through the bull’s-eye, thus dividing the target
into four parts. The writer notes that upon one or two occasions this
black stripe, of only one and one-half inches in width, divided the
target into four equal parts. The United States targets were twenty-two
inches wide by six feet high, for distances, from one hundred and fifty
yards up to two hundred and twenty-five, the material being of white
cloth, or canvas, stretched upon a frame, generally made of iron,
sometimes of wood; the width of the target, as did the width of the
black stripes, increased at the longer ranges, one thousand yards being
the extreme. Our range remained as it was previously, sixty yards, as
the regular army already had the rifle that was not issued to us until
1865.

The United States Government, in 1855, after satisfactory tests
made at the Springfield arsenal, adopted the Springfield percussion
muzzle-loading rifle, caliber fifty-eight, with the length of barrel
at forty inches, rifled with three grooves, making a half turn in its
length. The bullet was of lead and cylindro-conical in shape, with
expanding base, and weighed five hundred grains. Sixty grains of powder
was the regulation charge. This rifle, together with the bayonet,
weighed about ten pounds. Ten years after its adoption, or in other
words, on February 20, 1865, the “City Guard” received its quota. The
shooting distance was then increased to one hundred and fifty yards.
In 1866, the following year, the rifles remaining in the arsenal were
changed to breech-loaders, and the regular army furnished with them,
but California did not receive any.

The first competition for prizes between teams from the different
companies composing the First Regiment took place on September 12,
1865. These teams were of three men each, with three shots per man.
The “City Guard” carried away the second prize, with a score of 92.02
inches, not counting one miss. Company “C” took first prize, also
making one miss.

Ladies attended the State shoot of the company for the first time, by
invitation, on November 12, 1866, also the shoots of 1867 and 1868,
the latter being a regimental affair, held May 8th, at Schuetzen Park,
Alameda. Upon this occasion the targets were, on account of limited
space, close together, and it became necessary that pits be dug at
their base for the accommodation of the judges; it was so arranged
that the targets slid down into these pits to be marked and plugged.
All marking and scoring was done on the same principles as before
described. The width of the target was increased at this shoot to
twenty-four inches.

1869 found somewhat of a change, in so much that the company held its
prize competition, the sixteenth annual, alone, dispensing with the
usual accompaniments of brass band, cold collations, etc., and issuing
no invitations to guests, the parade being solely to comply with the
requirements of law. Thus the old custom was abandoned. The company
continued to shoot each year regularly in accordance with regulations,
sometimes by itself, but generally with the entire regiment as an
organization.

The National Guard was given the option to use either of the following
described targets for the state shoot of 1873: First, that which was
previously provided for, the black stripes being but one and one-half
inches wide instead of four; or, second, the same size target painted
black, with a four-inch white stripe the full length down the center,
black four-inch bull’s-eye, two feet from the top, surrounded by a
white circle, the outside diameter of which was eighteen inches.

The “City Guard” received its first breech-loading rifles, the Sharp’s,
50 caliber, on June 22, 1873, which were purchased and paid for by the
regiment, and was not the U. S. A. regulation. This rifle was shorter
than the Springfield muzzle-loader, the caliber, however, being the
same. It was rifled with twice as many grooves, 6 in number, these
grooves having a much heavier twist than that contained in the old
barrel. The square-butt bullet weighed about 400 grains, while the
charge of powder was heavier, from 65 to 70 grains. It is said that
the Sharp’s rifle did not give the satisfaction for target practice
that was expected from it. The reader will not confound the model just
referred to with the Sharp’s Buchard, caliber 45, that many individual
shooters used quite extensively in later years, and which gave ample
satisfaction.

When the National Rifle Association of America was organized in 1871,
it adopted the “Hythe” system of targets, then used by the English.
These targets were made of iron, painted white, the bull’s-eye being
square and black, and with a value of four points; the next larger
square counted 3, the balance of target, 2 points. These were classed
as follows: Class “A,” for distances up to and including 300 yards, 4
feet wide by 6 feet high; class “B,” from 300 up to and including 600,
6 x 6 feet; class “C,” including all distances above 600 yards, 12
feet wide by 6 high. The bull’s-eyes were 8, 22, and 36 inches square,
respectively. These targets were used, unofficially, in California as
early as 1873, and Interstate matches were shot upon them, as well as
other local competitions between companies and individuals; but they
never became the regulation targets for the National Guard of this
State. Annual shoots continued to be fired at the old style 2 x 6
target.

About the time that the California Rifle Association was incorporated,
in June, 1875, a change was made from the “Hythe” target to the
“Wimbleton” or “Creedmoor” system, as it is known in the United States,
taking the name from the famous rifle ranges at Creedmoor, Long Island.
These targets were of the same size as the others, but the bull’s-eyes
and rings became round instead of square, also adding one extra ring,
thus giving the bull’s-eye the value of 5 points, the center, 4, the
inner, 3, and the outer, 2 points. These targets, instead of being
made of iron, were of canvas for a backing, stretched upon a frame
of proper size. The “Creedmoor” target was the first one adopted by
the California Association, none other being in use by them. Sizes
of bull’s-eyes and rings as follows: Class “A” target, bull’s-eye, 8
inches in diameter; center, 26 inches; inner, 46 inches; outer, balance
of target. Class “B,” bull’s-eye, 22 inches in diameter; center, 38
inches; inner, 54 inches; outer, 70 inches diameter; this ring was
subsequently dropped, thus giving balance of target for the outer.
Class “C,” bull’s-eye, 36 inches in diameter; center, 54 inches in
diameter; inner was square, being 6 x 6 feet; outer, balance of target.
The Creedmoor rules of the National Association were taken, which soon
became generally recognized throughout California, the State adopting
them later for the government of the N. G. C.

The Springfield breech-loading rifle, caliber 45, was adopted by the
Government in 1873, after the Small Arms Board had tested 99 samples
of different designs. The “City Guard” received their quota during
1875. This rifle is described as follows: Made of low steel, caliber
45, and rifled with 3 concentric grooves of equal width, with 3 lands;
uniform twist of one complete turn in 22 inches; length of barrel,
including receiver, 36 inches; weight, without bayonet, 8.38 pounds:
trigger adjusted to 6 and up to 8 pounds pull.

General orders No. 8, Adjutant General’s Office, Sacramento, April
24, 1876, adopts the class “A” target for our State troops, and the
distance for the Springfield, model 1873, was placed at 200 yards. Men
were prohibited from changing the sights, or to put the minimum pull of
trigger at less than the regulation 6 pound pull. The number of shots
was increased to 5, possible 25 points.

Some shooting was done at 1,000 yards, but not with the Springfield.
The 500 yard target was considerably used, but the bulk of the shooting
was at the 200 yard range. The “City Guard” opened up its San Bruno
range in 1875 with targets at both 200 and 500 yards, possibly the
1,000 yard also. This continued to be the shooting headquarters of the
company for quite a number of years. Monthly competitions were held,
and many of the members participated in the regular “meets” of the
California Rifle Association, the company once in a while entering
a team to compete for prizes; but they won nothing. The interest in
rifle practice in the “City Guard” was not particularly strong at any
time during the early periods, and it was not until later years that
their interest improved to any great extent. The time consumed in
going to and from San Bruno, together with the expense, finally closed
that range some time during the early eighties. The company sent one
man East with the famous California Creedmoor team that won the great
International Military Match in 1877. This team consisted of 12 men and
3 alternates.

No particular change was made in the shooting conditions for a number
of years. Company and individual matches continued to be held,
contestants firing from five, seven, and ten shots to the string,
occasionally shooting fifty shot matches, and even up to one hundred
shots consecutively, in order to test the endurance of the men. Five
shots, however, continued to be the number allowed at the State
shoots, with no sighters. The one thousand yard range, as also the
five hundred, was discontinued some time in the eighties, the two
hundred yard target, because this shorter range could be obtained more
conveniently, receiving all the attention. In 1885 the “City Guard”
inaugurated its annual Thanksgiving day competitions for prizes, and
it was so arranged that every one firing, including both life and
honorary members, received a prize, all of which were presented at an
entertainment held subsequently thereto.

The Legislature, during its session of 1887, provided that decorations
be awarded members of the National Guard for rifle practice, and that
they parade for same at least once each year. In accordance with this
law, General Order No. 8, Adjutant General’s office, Sacramento, dated
September 6, 1887, promulgated the following conditions to govern the
issuance of these medals: That the score (for the first time) consist
of ten shots, with no sighters. Attendance at drills, in order to
receive a decoration, must not be less than fifty per cent. That each
guardsman in first class, those making ninety per cent or more, receive
a bronze medal, with the gold sharpshooter’s clasp pendent therefrom;
for the second class, eighty per cent and up to ninety per cent, the
same style medal, but with the silver rifleman’s clasp; for the third
class, not less than fifty per cent and up to eighty per cent, the
bronze marksman’s clasp attached to the bronze medal. Members winning
decorations in subsequent years, after once receiving the medal, were
presented with the clasp or bar only. The law was amended in 1889,
making it compulsory for two parades to be held for the State shoot,
and that both count in awarding medals. In 1891 general orders raised
the minimum percentage of the third class to sixty per cent, at the
same time making the drill requirements sixty per cent also, and giving
a silver medal instead of the bronze. By this order Blunt’s Manual for
Small Arms Practice was adopted. These are the conditions under which
the National Guard of California shoot at the present day.

[Illustration: CORPORAL LOU. R. TOWNSEND IN HIS OLD CITY GUARD UNIFORM.
REPRODUCED FROM OIL PAINTING, BY MRS. MC HENRY, JUNE, 1859.]

Blunt’s regulation targets, as to size, material, number of rings,
and mode of counting, are the same as those of the Creedmoor system,
otherwise they are not alike, the bull’s-eyes and rings of the new
being ellipses set vertically, also of different dimensions, viz: Class
“A” target, bull’s-eye, 8 x 10 inches; center, 24 x 30; inner, 40 x 50;
outer, balance of target. Class “B,” bull’s-eye, 18 x 24; center, 36 x
48; inner, 54 x 72; outer, balance of target. Class “C,” bull’s-eye,
32 x 50; center, 51 x 72; inner, square of 72 x 72 inches; outer,
balance of target.

The company has participated in a great many matches, particularly
within the last two or three years. As a general thing, these matches
were for glory, with a trophy occasionally thrown in. Some of these
matches the company lost, while on other occasions the rooster crowed
very loudly for “B.” Here are a few of the principal events:

On March 11, 1893, the company entered a team in the Midwinter Fair
prize shoot for trophies. Entrance fee, twenty-five dollars; ten men to
each team, and ten shots per man. The “City Guard” took third prize, an
elegant one, with a score of four hundred and twenty-five points out of
five hundred, an average of eighty-five per cent.

Perhaps the greatest and most satisfactory achievement of “B” Company
was at Sacramento, on December 17, 1893. Company “C” of the First
Regiment shot against “F” of the Eighth, located at Oroville, and
this company shot against “C” of the Eighth, of Marysville. All four
organizations shot on the same ground, and at the same time, the
targets adjoining. This match was for thirty men on each team, ten
shots per man, and to be shot upon neutral ground in the open, man
for man. To accomplish this it was necessary that “B” and “C” of the
First, and the other two companies meet half way at Sacramento, which
they did. “C” beat Oroville, scores, 1225 to 1195. “B” beat Marysville,
score 1233 to 1143, the “City Guard” coming out with the best score of
the day, making an average of 41.1 points per man, a very large average
for thirty men.

As a result of the Sacramento match the company received a match from
the famous “Carson City Guard,” of Nevada. This interstate match was
for thirty men a side, ten shots per man, the watch being held on each
shooter for the time limit. The shoot was what is termed telegraphic,
and targets were to be exchanged by express after the firing ceased.
Each company had its representative at the other’s range. “B” was again
victorious, beating their opponents by ten points, scores 1223 to 1213.
This was on May 6, 1894.

The following three matches were undoubtedly the largest ever shot
by military companies anywhere in the United States or elsewhere.
They were shot man for man, under the existing rules, at two hundred
yards, with ten shots for each competitor, making the possible number
of points 2,500. It will be noted that two of these matches were shot
upon B company’s opponents’ ranges, both of which being strange to the
members of this company.

On December 2, 1894, at Schuetzen Park, San Rafael, with D Company,
Fifth Infantry, N. G. C., B wins by five points. Scores: B, 1,846, or
an average per man of 36.92 points. D making 1,841, an average of 36.82.

Both companies having strengthened their teams, a return match was
made for May 5, 1895, this time at B’s headquarters, Shell Mound Rifle
Range. B again wins by fifty-three points. Scores: B, 1,951 points, an
average per man of 39.02 points, D making 1,898, an average of 37.96.
Each company made a marked improvement over the previous match.

On May 19, 1895, this company shot another fifty-man match this time
with C company, Eighth Infantry, N. G. C., upon their own range at
Marysville, Cal., B journeying there for that purpose. This time B
lost. Scores: B, 1,907 points, an average of 38.14 per man; their
opponents making 1,982, an average of 39.64. The score made by C
company was an elegant one, and the members are deserving of a great
deal of praise for their splendid shooting.

The “Tobin Trophy” was presented to the First Regiment by the relatives
of Colonel Robert Tobin, of the Third, in 1890, after his death, the
regiment having performed the escort duty at the funeral. This trophy
is a permanent affair for competition every year by teams selected
from each company. For the first five years these teams consisted of
twenty men each; but in 1895 they were increased to twenty-five men.
B’s record is as follows: Possible points, 1,000. In 1890, the company
made 784, average, per man, 39.20. In 1891, 707; average, 35.35. In
1892, 766; average 38.3. In 1893, 787; average, 39.35. In 1894, 824;
average, 41.20. In 1895, for twenty-five men, possible number of points
1,250, the company made 1,032, an average of 41.30 points to the man.
In these shoots for the trophy the City Guard took second place, with
the exception of the years 1891 and 1892, then falling to third place.
The trophy competition was at the 200 yard range.

The members of B company have received the following State decorations
since the system was adopted, as previously noted, in 1887. For the
year 1887: gold bars, 0; silver, 3; bronze, 11. Total, 14. In 1888:
gold, 0; silver, 7; bronze, 9. Total, 16. In 1889: gold, 1; silver, 6;
bronze, 19. Total, 26. In 1890: gold, 1; silver, 11; bronze, 14. Total,
26. In 1891: gold, 0; silver, 5; bronze, 14. Total, 19. In 1892: gold,
0; silver, 4; bronze, 16. Total, 20. In 1893: gold, 1; silver, 11;
bronze, 20. Total, 32. In 1894: gold, 1; silver, 16; bronze, 23. Total,
40.

The City Guard originally set the pace in the matter of shooting
rifle matches with teams composed of fifty men from a company. It
is a recognized fact that a soldier should know how to shoot, and,
in order to encourage the members, some inducements must be given.
What is better than placing them in a large shooting team? Any member
of a company will strive very hard indeed to win a place on such a
team, especially if he thinks there is any possible show for him,
while otherwise he would be rather lukewarm if simply competing for a
personal decoration. Hence the desirability of large team shooting. The
better shots will always take care of themselves; foster the poorer
ones by interesting them in their art, and they will, in their turn,
take care of themselves.

It has been, particularly for the past two or three years, the
determined policy of this company to steadily increase the shooting
efficiency of its members. Not only have the better shots received
their proper attention, but the poorer ones have been encouraged, and,
under the fostering care and instruction freely given them, they have
gradually improved in their marksmanship; many of them now rank among
the best shots of the company. In closing this chapter the writer
predicts a brilliant future for the City Guard in rifle practice, and
with proper care, attention, and enthusiasm, the “old company” will yet
be the peer of them all.




  Transcriber’s Notes:

  Variations in spelling and hyphenation are retained.

  Perceived typographical errors have been changed.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 67904 ***