There was then one large hotel in Omaha, called the Herndon House. It had been built as a sort of boom hotel. It was named after a Lieutenant Herndon, of the United States service, who, by his then recent exploration of the Amazon River, had made quite a reputation. General McKean was commanding the district of Nebraska, or "Nebraska and the Plains," as it was officially called. He had his headquarters in this Herndon building, with a large staff, mostly young men, who were a very jolly set of officers. Besides these there were galloping around over the streets frequently, groups of officers who had come down from the plains, or down the river from above, or were connected with the supply department. On the edge of town were many freighters' camps. I remember the first night that we were there a woolen-shirted, sombrero-hatted teamster came into our camp with a guitar, and sang all the army songs of the period. He also sang "Joe Bowers'" and also "Betsey from Pike." I had heard "Joe Bowers" often sung before in the army, but had never heard "Betsey from Pike." The song represented a woman going overland with her husband to the mines, and the trials, troubles and tribulations of the road. I remember only two verses, which were as follows:
"The wagon broke down with the tear of bull-crash,
And out of the end-gate rolled all kinds of brash;
A small volume of infantry clothes done up with care
Looked remarkably suspicious, though all on the square.
Says a miner to Betts, 'Won't you dance along with me?'
'Oh, I will that, old hoss, if you don't make too free;
But don't dance me hard, for I'll tell you the reason why,
Dog-gon you, I'm chuck-full of alca-ho-li.'"
We drilled during the second afternoon of our stay in Omaha. It was entirely by the bugle. Indian-fighters must be drilled by the bugle, and the men must be taught the bugle-calls, and constantly exercised lest they forget.
That night there was some kind of a show in Omaha, theatrical or otherwise -- I do not remember. It just happened, as the regiment was then organized, and at that particular time situated, that I, being a Second Lieutenant, was the youngest officer in rank immediately with the regiment. So the Colonel after supper turned over the command of the regiment to the Major, who was next; and the Major turned it over to the Senior Captain, and the Senior Captain turned it over to some one else, and all started for town on horseback. Finally it got down to the Lieutenants, and by eight o'clock my immediate superior had turned the regiment over to me. There was no commissioned officer to whom I could turn; they all outranked me, and I had to stay up, and take care of the regiment while all of my seniors went into the city. By nine o'clock the regiment was boisterous. Reveille was sounded, then tattoo, and afterwards "taps." By the time taps were sounded, I found a large part of the regiment drunk, and once in a while some soldier in a shriek of ecstasy would fire his revolver at the moon. Then I would take the Corporal and guard, and put the man under arrest. In a little while I had the guard tent full, and still things were as lively as ever. I finally got a crowd of about twenty-five sober men, and went around and gathered up the noisiest and set a sergeant drilling them. But they soon ran, helter-skelter, and the camp guards could not stop them. My escort and I smashed up all the whisky we could find, and finally got to tying the loudest ones up to the wagons with lariats, and by about eleven o'clock there was some semblance of order. Finally the officers began to string in, but I had a bad three hours. This all sounds worse than it really was; the men were going out on the plains, and intended to have a celebration before they went. They carried it further than they should. I was glad when all was over that no one was killed.
At the wharf were a lot of steamboats unloading supplies. They were light-draft Missouri boats. Omaha was a great steamboat town. Everything had to be brought there by steamboat. The boats were stem-wheelers. There was yet no railroad to Omaha. Vast quantities of supplies were being piled up, on the wharf, and it was said that we were waiting in Omaha so as to escort a train, and so as to take out a large amount of supplies for ourselves. The only way we kept the men from carousing was by drilling. And while they were well drilled to the word of command, they were not thoroughly up on the bugle-calls. They were drilled constantly; in the morning on foot, obeying in a modified way the bugle-calls, and drilling on horseback in the afternoon, and then we had classes in the evening, and sounded the bugle-calls, and had the pupils give the equivalent military command.
Shortly before our arrival in Omaha I had met and been introduced to a man who was a national organizer of the Union League. It was called the "National Loyal Union League. "Only such officers were let into it as were of known loyalty. The army was so honeycombed with disloyal men and Rebel sympathizers that it was difficult to know always whom to trust. These were to be weeded out, and the obligation of the Loyal League was administered only to those of whom the organization was dead sure. It was a strange thing to me to be approached by one whom I did not know, and be talked to upon the subject. He said there were persons in my regiment who were Rebels, and who were disloyal; that he was authorized to give me admission to the order. This was before we reached Omaha. He said it cost nothing, but it must be kept profoundly a secret. He said that it had a civil branch, and a military branch; that the obligations were different, and the object different; but that any officer or soldier who belonged to the military order could make himself known, and could be admitted, and visit a lodge of civilians. I expressed a thorough appreciation of the plan, and he took an hour, and put me through a verbal drill, and gave me some signs, and passwords. The day before marching into Omaha, while riding on the road with my company, a farmer with a load of hay alongside of the road gave the hailing-sign. I stopped, and talked with him a few moments, and he told me that near where we were stopping that night was a large Union League organization that had arrested and put in jail a gang of Confederate deserters, and that they would be glad to see me present. When our command went into camp, I rode that night into the village, and I had gone but a short distance before I got the "hailing-sign," in both instances given in the same way. I found out where there was to be a meeting of the lodge that night, and I went up, and attended it. The hailing-sign was a remarkable invention. It was "two and two." in any way that two and two could be designated, the hailing-sign was made. For instance, if the hand should be held up and the four fingers divided in the middle, two on each side. With a bugle it was two short notes, then an interval, and two short notes. It could be made almost any way; two fingers to the chin. The persons who hailed me, as stated, put two of their