September 1862
CHAPTER IV
Immediately after the filling of the various
hospitals, by the wounded from the battle-field of Antiem, an order was issued to
Capt. Tarbutton, for troops do the guard duty at the hospitals, and our company
was selected. Thus half of the command
was sent down to the city every other day.
10 men including a Sergeant and Corporal were sent to the German
Reformed Church Hospital, corner of Third and Chestnut Sts., as well as a
similar detail to the Walnut St. River
Hospital
For upwards of two months the Company was on detached
duty in the city, and the temptations to which the boys were exposed were of such a character as to be a
snare to the feet of many of the unsophisticated youths of the company, to say
nothing of the older ones.
At the time when Company G, known as Captain Davis’
Snyder company, made its appearance on the scene, Bob Edward’s Concert Saloon
was in its zenith, and the ballet, as well as the prevailing, eccentricities of
the hour were nightly delineated by male and female STARS, to the
great delight and astonishment of the gaping crowds of soldiers and among which
might generally be noticed a fair sprinkling of Company “G’s” warriors. Among the pleasant recollections connected
with the concert saloon, then occupying the building opposite the Jail, near
the State Capitol Hotel, are the now extinct “war songs,” not extinct because
they form a large portion of the reminiscences of the times which tried the
hearts of the patriots of 1861--5, those charming songs, rendered by Julie
Edwards and Lizzie Francis, among which we now call to mind: “We are going to
fight for Uncle Sam,” “My Mary1and,” “Hurrah for General McClellan and the.
Union Volunteers,” which seldom if ever, failed to draw forth an encore. While speaking of the “Gaiety songs” we dare
not forget “Ever of Thee,” and “Lauderbaugh,” names which carry us back to the
time, when clothed in Uncle Sam’s suit of
blue, seated within its “classic” walls sipping lager, we just more than
threw ourselves upon the wave of dissipation and lived upon the fleeting
pleasures of the day, which were sure to bring us a heavy head in the morning,
which would cause us to resolve “never to get drunk any more.”
Every organization has its character and we believe
that Company G had its full share of them.
We cannot forget old Danny Kreamer, who wore a monstrous pair of green
spectacles, and who upon a certain well-known occasion remarked that “he did
not believe that he ever saw Sergeant Baker in a general manner.”
It was the same chap who after being treated to a
breakfast on farina, brought to the Chestnut street
hospital by Mrs. Small, said: “Well, I am a pretty old man, but I’ll be blamed
if ever I eat mush and milk for breakfast.”
While we are speaking of this eccentric character, we may as well
mention that Danny dealt in “charms,” consisting of printed slips, on which
were printed words which were to protect the person who carried them from
violence or dangers of any sort, and when he attempted to sell one to Serg’t
George Townsend, for the moderate price of 25 cents, found himself caught by
the throat in the iron grip of the Sergeant, who said: “Danny, this is too
thin, your papers are no good,” and he choked the charm vender until his
tongue hung out.
Of course the boys all remember who it was that
guarded that “little Bucktail” Sergeant in the guard-house, and the accident
which befell the valiant guard who became exhausted for want of sleep, and who
rolled down the bank, greatly to the detriment of his clothing, and who was
probably saved from freezing by the interference of Corporal Fred H. Knight who
kindly assisted him into the “markee” and who just as freely helped him out in
the morning, and why it was done. We
know that up to this time be has never been able to clean his skirts of the
strange affair, while all those who slept in that markee that night, aver that
there certainty was ‘something rotten in Dan(ny) mark.’
We trust that the members of the Company will accept
the little pleasantries in the same spirit in which they are written, and not
get angry, as we shall endeavor to give a correct account of the doings of the
“boys,” and one and all will receive full credit for all that befell them, as
far as we can remember the facts, or recall the funny incidents to mind.
The company had a number of accomplished foragers, who
not only distinguished themselves in raids upon the enemy, but who made it a
point to visit the markets early in the morning, and before the venders were
up, take advantage of buying anything “cheap” that they could lay hands on, of
course the boys had no money or at least very little, and the edibles displayed
were too tempting to be resisted, and so general did this “foraging” become
that nearly every member of the company had a large pocket made in the inside
of the overcoat, and which was appropriately called the union “confiscation”
pocket.
We remember upon a certain occasion that two of No.
l’s mess, took sweet potatoes out from under a man who had his bed on them, and
then finished up the job by walking off with some ten or fifteen pounds of
sausage, which served to gladden the hearts of the mess.
Nor can we forget the German “Kosthause,” with
its tempting motto: ”Kum do rouse stu dem Deitchen hause,” on the old
weather beaten sign, kept by old “Mommy” and Nicholas, he who loved his
“schnaps” so well, in the part of the city known as Verbecktown. It was here that a number of the boys made
their head-quarters and many an interesting little squib might be written of
the events transpired here.
We could tell as how Daniel Ehrhart upon a certain
occasion gave the old lady a two dollar bill in payment for a “bitters” and
when she could not change it, he ordered her to give him credit for the balance
and how that balance was wiped out that afternoon, so that when Ehrhart in the
evening came to get his “night cap,” and ordered it taken from his credit, just
how surprised he looked when old Mommy said:
“Du lieber Gott im himmel mon, das geldt ist shunt
long aus gedrunken.”
Ehrhart never found out who it was that squandered his
credit., although he vowed vengeance on the guilty ones.
It was here that ten and twelve of the company would
lodge in one room with three beds in it.
As a general thing everything passed off smoothly as long as there were
only three men for each bed, but when the fourth man came, then the circus
would commence, and the struggle between the “ins” and the “outs” waxed
warm. We had the pleasure (?) of trying
to sleep in the room one night, and we are free to confess that we scarcely
received our “levy’s” worth of sleep. It
was the night that Lot Ulrich had placed a large carpet tack in one of Danny
Herbster’s shoes, and then invited the old man to go along out to get a drink,
knowing full well that if there was a man in the company that would not get up
out of bed and put on his shoes for a drink of whiskey, that man was not old
Danny. To judge from the way the old man
ripped out the Snyder county “Dutch” we had no doubt but that the tack got in
its work successfully. Herbster accused
C. E. Parks of setting up the job, and it was with great difficulty that the
old man was prevented from doing Parks bodily harm. The difficulty was at last amicably arranged
by Parks setting up the “Greek fire,” for Danny and his boon companion, Levi J.
Romig.
