Remise
04-23-2008, 01:09 PM
I am grateful that this past weekend, the National Regiment not only posted guards in the proper manner at Fort McHenry, they also held a short seminar on the subject for the entire battalion. I am sure the public appreciated this, too.
Since we often wonder how good we are with drill and related things, compared to those who actually served back then, I thought I would offer this amusing anecdote I found in "Meade's Army: The Private Notebooks of Lt. Col. Theodore Lyman." This story comes from the siege of Petersburg, where things weren't exactly in peacetime mode:
"Discovered a patriotic sentry sitting with his back to where the enemy might be supposed to come, and reading a novel! He belonged to the 7th Indiana (3rd. Div., 5th Corps -- old 1st Div., 1st Corps). 'What are your instructions?' say I. 'Haint got none,' replied the peruser of novels. 'Then what are you here for?' 'Well, I'm a kind of an alarm sentinel,' said the literary militaire. 'Call the corporal of the guard,' said I, feeling very much disposed to laugh. The sentry looked about a little, and then, singling out a friend, called out: 'Oh! Jim, why won't you just ask Jeremiah Miles to step this way?' After some delay Jeremiah appeared. He was in a pleasing state of ignorance. Did not know the sentry's instructions -- did not know who the officer of the guard was -- did not know much of anything. 'Well,' said I: 'Now suppose you go an find the sergeant of the guard.' This he did with great alacrity. The sergeant, as became his office, knew more than the corporal. He was clear that the sentry should not read a book; also, that his conduct in sitting down was eccentric; but when it came to, who was the officer of the guard, his naturally fine mind broke down. He knew the officer if he saw him, but could not remember his name. This he would say, the officer was a Lieutenant. 'Suppose you should try to find him,' suggested I. Of course! that he would do; and soon the "Lootenant" appeared. To him I talked l ike a father, almost like a grandfather, in fact; showed him the man's musket was rusty, and that he was no good whatsoever. Lootenant had not much to say; indeed, so to speak nothing, and I left him, with a strong impression that you can't make a slik purse out of a sow's ear."
Since we often wonder how good we are with drill and related things, compared to those who actually served back then, I thought I would offer this amusing anecdote I found in "Meade's Army: The Private Notebooks of Lt. Col. Theodore Lyman." This story comes from the siege of Petersburg, where things weren't exactly in peacetime mode:
"Discovered a patriotic sentry sitting with his back to where the enemy might be supposed to come, and reading a novel! He belonged to the 7th Indiana (3rd. Div., 5th Corps -- old 1st Div., 1st Corps). 'What are your instructions?' say I. 'Haint got none,' replied the peruser of novels. 'Then what are you here for?' 'Well, I'm a kind of an alarm sentinel,' said the literary militaire. 'Call the corporal of the guard,' said I, feeling very much disposed to laugh. The sentry looked about a little, and then, singling out a friend, called out: 'Oh! Jim, why won't you just ask Jeremiah Miles to step this way?' After some delay Jeremiah appeared. He was in a pleasing state of ignorance. Did not know the sentry's instructions -- did not know who the officer of the guard was -- did not know much of anything. 'Well,' said I: 'Now suppose you go an find the sergeant of the guard.' This he did with great alacrity. The sergeant, as became his office, knew more than the corporal. He was clear that the sentry should not read a book; also, that his conduct in sitting down was eccentric; but when it came to, who was the officer of the guard, his naturally fine mind broke down. He knew the officer if he saw him, but could not remember his name. This he would say, the officer was a Lieutenant. 'Suppose you should try to find him,' suggested I. Of course! that he would do; and soon the "Lootenant" appeared. To him I talked l ike a father, almost like a grandfather, in fact; showed him the man's musket was rusty, and that he was no good whatsoever. Lootenant had not much to say; indeed, so to speak nothing, and I left him, with a strong impression that you can't make a slik purse out of a sow's ear."