Tenting on the Plains (Illustrated Edition). Elizabeth Bacon Custer. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Elizabeth Bacon Custer
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isbn: 4064066059729
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that, I don't really know how the thirst of the midsummer days could have been endured. The General had already taught himself not to drink between meals, and I was trying to do so. All he drank was his mug of coffee in the early morning and at dinner, and cold tea or coffee, which Eliza kept in a bottle, for luncheon.

Portrait of Custer

      GENERAL CUSTER AS A CADET.

      The privations did not quench the buoyancy of those gay young fellows. The General and his staff told stories and sang, and a man with good descriptive powers recounted the bills of fare of good dinners and choice viands he had enjoyed, while we knew we had nothing to anticipate in this wilderness but army fare. Sometimes, as we marched along, almost melted with heat, and our throats parched for water, the odor of cucumbers was wafted toward us. Stillman, the guide, being called on for an explanation, as we wondered if we were nearing a farm, slackened Betty, waited for us, and took down our hopes by explaining that it was a certain species of snake, which infested that part of the country. The scorpions, centipedes and tarantulas were daily encountered. I not only grew more and more unwilling to take my nap, after the march was over, under a tree, but made life a burden to my husband till he gave up flinging himself down anywhere to sleep, and induced him to take his rest in the traveling wagon. I had been indolently lying outstretched in a little grateful shade one day, when I was hurriedly roused by some one, and moved to avoid what seemed to me a small, dried twig. It was the most venomous of snakes, called the pine-tree rattlesnake. It was very strange that we all escaped being stung or bitten in the midst of thousands of those poisonous reptiles and insects. One teamster died from a scorpion's bite, and, unfortunately, I saw his bloated, disfigured body as we marched by. It lay on a wagon, ready for burial, without even a coffin, as we had no lumber.

      What was most aggravating were two pests of that region, the seed-tick and the chigger. The latter bury their heads under the skin, and when they are swollen with blood, it is almost impossible to extract them without leaving the head imbedded. This festers, and the irritation is almost unbearable. If they see fit to locate on neck, face or arms, it is possible to outwit them in their progress; but they generally choose that unattainable spot between the shoulders, and the surgical operation of taking them out with a needle or knife-point, must devolve upon some one else. To ride thus with the skin on fire, and know that it must be endured till the march was ended, caused some grumbling, but it did not last long. The enemy being routed, out trilled a song or laugh from young and happy throats. If we came to a sandy stretch of ground, loud groans from the staff began, and a cry, "We're in for the chiggers!" was an immediate warning. We all grew very wary of lying down to rest in such a locality, but were thankful that the little pests were not venomous. There's nothing like being where something dangerous lies in wait for you, to teach submission to what is only an irritating inconvenience.

      One of the small incidents out of which we invariably extracted fun, was our march at dawn past the cabins of the few inhabitants. On the open platform, sometimes covered, but often with no roof, which connects the two log huts, the family are wont to sleep in hot weather. There they lay on rude cots, and were only awakened by the actual presence of the cavalry, of whose approach they were unaware. The children sat up in bed, in wide-gaping wonder; the grown people raised their heads, but instantly ducked under the covers again, thinking they would get up in a moment, as soon as the cavalcade had passed. From time to time a head was cautiously raised, hoping to see the end of the column. Then such a shout from the soldiers, a fusillade of the wittiest comments, such as only soldiers can make—for I never expect to hear brighter speeches than issue from a marching column—and down went the venturesome head, compelled to obey an unspoken military mandate and remain "under cover." There these people lay till the sun was scorching them, imprisoned under their bed-clothes by modesty, while the several thousand men filed by, two by two, and the long wagon-train in the rear had passed the house.

      There came a day when I could not laugh and joke with the rest. I was mortified to find myself ill—I, who had been pluming myself on being such a good campaigner, my desire to keep well being heightened by overhearing the General boasting to Tom that "nothing makes the old lady ill." We did not know that sleeping in the sun in that climate brings on a chill, and I had been frightened away from the snake-infested ground, where there might be shade, to the wagon for my afternoon sleep. It was embarrassing in the extreme. I could neither be sent back, nor remain in that wilderness, which was infested by guerrillas. The surgeon compelled me to lie down on the march. It was very lonely, for I missed the laughter and story at the head of the column, which had lightened the privations of the journey. The soil was so shallow that the wagon was kept on a continual joggle by the roots of the trees over which we passed. This unevenness was of course not noticeable on horseback, but now it was painfully so at every revolution of the wheels. The General and Tom came back to comfort me every now and again, while Eliza "mammied" and nursed me, and rode in the seat by the driver. It was "break-bone fever." No one knowing about it can read these words and not feel a shudder. I believe it is not dangerous, but the patient is introduced, in the most painful manner, to every bone in his body. Incredible as it used to seem when, in school, we repeated the number of bones, it now became no longer a wonder, and the only marvel was, how some of the smallest on the list could contain so large an ache. I used to lie and speculate how one slender woman could possibly conceal so many bones under the skin. Anatomy had been on the list of hated books in school; but I began then to study it from life, in a manner that made it likely to be remembered. The surgeon, as is the custom of the admirable men of that profession in the army, paid me the strictest attention, and I swallowed quinine, it seemed to me, by the spoonful. As I had never taken any medicine to speak of, it did its duty quickly, and in a few days I was lifted into the saddle, tottering and light-headed, but partly relieved from the pain, and very glad to get back to our military family, who welcomed me so warmly that I was aglow with gratitude. I wished to ignore the fact that I had fallen by the way, and was kept in lively fear that they would all vote me a bother. After that, my husband had the soldiers who were detailed for duty at headquarters, when they cut the wood for camp-fires, build a rough shade of pine branches over the wagon, when we reached camp. Even that troubled me, though the kind-hearted fellows did not seem to mind it; but the General quieted me by explaining that the men, being excused from night duty as sentinels, would not mind building the shade as much as losing their sleep, and, besides, we were soon afterward out of the pine forest and on the prairie.

      Our officers suffered dreadfully on that march, though they made light of it, and were soon merry after a trial or hardship was over. The drenching dews chilled the air that was encountered just at daybreak. They were then plunged into a steam bath from the overpowering sun, and the impure water told frightfully on their health. I have seen them turn pale and almost reel in the saddle, as we marched on. They kept quinine in their vest-pockets, and horrified me by taking large quantities at any hour when they began to feel a chill coming on, or were especially faint. Our brother Tom did not become quite strong, after his attack of fever, for a long time, and had inflammatory rheumatism at Fort Riley a year or more afterward, which the surgeons attributed to his Texas exposure. I used to see the haggard face of the adjutant-general, Colonel Jacob Greene, grow drawn and gray with the inward fever that filled his veins and racked his bones with pain. The very hue of his skin comes back to me after all these years, for we grieved over his suffering, as we had all just welcomed him back from the starvation of Libby Prison.

      I rode in their midst, month after month, ever revolving in my mind the question, whence came the inexhaustible supply of pluck that seemed at their command, to meet all trials and privations, just as their unfaltering courage had enabled them to go through the battles of the war? And yet, how much harder it was to face such trials, unsupported by the excitement of the trumpet-call and the charge. There was no wild clamor of war to enable them to forget the absence of the commonest necessities of existence. In Texas and Kansas, the life was often for months unattended by excitement of any description. It was only to be endured by a grim shutting of the teeth, and an iron will. The mother of one of the fallen heroes of the Seventh Cavalry, who passed uncomplainingly through the privations of the frontier, and gave up his life at last, writes to me in a recent letter that she considers "those late experiences of hardship and suffering, so gallantly borne, by far the most interesting of General Custer's life, and the least known." For my part