USA > New York > The first hundred years : records and reminiscences of a century of Company I, Seventh Regiment, N.G.N.Y., 1838-1938 > Part 26
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Leaving the Regiment for Plattsburg was not considered the best form, how- ever, and was frowned upon by real Simon-pure Grey Jackets. Those who went and were accused of desertion, retorted with, "Oh, the 7th will never see active service-look at 1898 and what they did to us."
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The Regiment had always been a training school for officers and strenuous efforts were now made to build it up for that purpose. There was no great suc- cess, however, at first. The records show that during 1914 and 1915, Company I got exactly thirty-five recruits.
1916
This eventful year opened with the Ninth Company led by Wade H. Hayes, who had succeeded Captain Hubby, September 28, 1914. Captain Hayes had enlisted in the Company in 1905 and risen through all the grades to a com- mission as First Lieutenant in 1912.
George P. Nichols held the First Lieutenancy and Gordon Grant the Second, with Percy Hall, First Sergeant.
Under this leadership naturally the Company began to pick up speed. It took on forty recruits before June 28. There was a reason for this, of course, as we shall presently see.
Early in 1916 the news that Colonel "Dan" was to be retired as Brigadier General in February was indeed a shock-and brought a feeling of sorrow to the heart of every loyal 7th Regiment man. On January 7, Captain Hayes pub- lished the following letter :
FAREWELL TO COLONEL DAN
Veterans of Company I
To think of the 7th Regiment without Colonel Appleton as its Commanding Officer requires a mental readjustment difficult for most of us. Yet on February 24, by operation of the law of the State, the Colonel will be retired from active service-it seems incredible but it is true. The occasion will be marked by proper ceremony in which all members of the Regiment, both active and veteran, will participate and you will be informed of the plans as soon as they are fully developed.
Inasmuch as the Ninth Company has always been in close personal relation- ship to Colonel Appleton it has been decided that it would be both proper and desirable to give to the Veterans of the Company an opportunity to pass in review before the Colonel once more before he relinquishes his command. With this idea in mind the Colonel has been invited to be the guest of the Ninth Company on the evening of January 27 next and he has accepted.
Our present plan contemplates a formal review by the Colonel of the Veteran and Active Company, a demonstration (not a drill) by the members of the active Company of the use of machine guns, automatic pistols, cooking utensils, pyram- idal tents, shelter halves, intrenching tools and numerous other impedimenta that was not thought of in former days. After that there will be a dinner in the Regimental mess. The formal and military part of the evening will begin at seven and last about half or three-quarters of an hour, the social part to start immediately after. We must have you present on this occasion so please say you will be, using enclosed card for that purpose.
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SOCIETY OF NINTH COMPANY VETERANS
New York, January 8, 1916
Comrades :
Upon the suggestion and invitation of Captain Hayes, as per enclosed cir- cular, we are invited to participate in a farewell to Colonel Appleton on Thurs- day evening, January 27, 1916.
Also to emphasize the fact, that some of the actives seem to doubt, that we used to drill with a solid 48 Files, it is our intention to have report that night for duty the full 48 Files, to show the actives that we are not all dead or decrepit.
It is the belief that such an ocular demonstration will inspire a wonderful RECRUITING BOOM.
Consequently the orders are as follows :
Orders to the Vets
You will assemble on January 27, 1916, at 6:45 p.m., in the top floor drill hall.
Uniform-full evening dress, white tie, silk hat, white gloves.
Review by Colonel Appleton at 7 p.m.
Formation-6 commands of 16 files, single rank, with guides.
Mess dinner at 8 p.m. without charge.
DON'T forget, we must have 48 Files, with commanding officers and guides for SIX COMMANDS, a minimum of 106 men.
FRANCIS G. LANDON, President HORACE C. DU VAL, Vice-President WILLIAM F. WALL, Secretary WALTER B. COWPERTHWAIT, Treasurer
COLONEL DAN By CAPTAIN H. C. DU VAL, COMPANY I
We have come to give you greeting, Colonel Dan,
We can never say good-bye, Colonel Dan,
Ev'ry heart for you is beating To a man, And, by all the skies above you On parade or in review, We are here to say "We love you," All our thoughts will turn to you, In our hearts we'll see you too, Colonel Dan.
You have kept our Standard flying, Colonel Dan, Colonel Dan,
Every time and change defying, In the van When the clouds the darkest grew,
With that dignity and grace, Spick and span,
When the best of us were blue,
Someone else may give command, Someone else may start the band, But right near him you will stand,
You were steadfast, staunch, and true, Colonel Dan. Colonel Dan.
Read at dinner given by the Actives and Veterans of Company I to say farewell to Colonel Appleton, January 27, 1916
You can't leave us if you try, Strive and plan,
We were never prouder of you, Colonel Dan.
In your old accustom'd place,
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COMPANY I DINNER TO COLONEL "DAN"
The parade, review and dinner given by the veterans and actives of the Company in honor of Colonel Appleton on January 27, 1916, was a success beyond our wildest expecta- tions. The active Company, with seven solid squads, had the right of the line in the review and was followed by the veterans in seven companies, of twenty files each, in single rank. In full evening dress, each man wearing a white carnation, except the guides, who wore red, and the officers, who were distinguished by red and white, the veterans made an imposing appearance. It seemed incredible that years had passed since many of them had been in the ranks, so perfectly did they march. Captain Hayes was in supreme command, while the veteran officers were Major Landon, Adjutant Wall, and Quartermaster G. Chauncey. The veteran Company commanders were Captain Arthur, Colonel McAlpin, Captain Houston, Captain Hubby, Lieutenant D. Chauncey, Captain Du Val, and Lieutenant LeBoutillier.
Following the review the veterans gave an evening parade, passing in review before Colonel Appleton, behind whom the actives stood at present arms. Even Ninth Company discipline could not suppress a few exclamations of surprise and admiration as the veterans marched past. Then, after the usual preliminaries in the Company and veteran rooms, all proceeded to the mess hall for the dinner and entertainment which, like the military features, surpassed all precedents.
Captain Hayes made a short speech after which Major Landon took command, introduc- ing Captain Du Val who gave a number of interesting reminiscences of the old company followed by an excellent poem dedicated to Colonel Appleton. Osterhout spoke for the Company and then came the speaker of the evening, Colonel Appleton. His remarks, in the nature of a farewell, brought a feeling of sadness over all of us at the thought of losing a commander upon whom we have so long looked with feelings of love and admiration.
-C. H. Floyd in Gazette
THERE'S A SOLDIER AT THE TOP By CAPTAIN H. C. DU VAL
We are happy, we're exultant, We have settled on a man Who will fill the bill exactly, Sizing up to Colonel Dan. He's a corker, you all know him, Are we taking any risk ?
Are we taking any back steps When we pick out Willard Fisk ?
He's a soldier to his backbone, He's a cormorant for work,
He's a friend; just do your duty, But, Lord help you if you shirk.
He's as dandy as they make 'em When he turns out on parade,
But the fighting streak that's in him Puts the show side in the shade.
We have met the crisis nobly, We can let all worries drop;
When he's putting on his khaki There's a smile lights up his face,
With a grimness just behind it- Well, you've seen it in a race When the tired quarter-milers In the stretch are coming in, And you pick a face among them That you know is BOUND to win.
That you know is BOUND to get there, That won't hear the word defeat,
That's the kind that Fisk is made of, That's the man we're here to meet. There's a lot of talk of fighting, Lots of trouble in the air. It's a chance that we are called on, But I like that word "PREPARE."
The Regiment is ready, We've a SOLDIER at the top.
Read by Captain Du Val at an informal reception given by Colonel Willard C. Fisk to the officers of the Regiment in the Field and Staff room after the election, March 31, 1916.
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THE NINTH COMPANY ON THE MEXICAN BORDER, 1916 By C. Harold Floyd
ORDERED TO TEXAS
In 1916, Carranza was president of Mexico but his erstwhile chief general, Pancho Villa, who was trying to overthrow him, controlled that part of the country next to the United States Border. Considered an outlaw by both countries, Villa not only fought Carranza but made several raids into the United States, killing American soldiers and civilians. The Regular Army and the border States were unable to supply sufficient soldiers to meet the situation so, on June 18, 1916, the President called on the Governors of the States for a large part of the organized militia.
The call reached Company I on June 19 and immediately Sergeants and Corporals sprang to the telephone and telegraph and every Ninth Company man was soon on his way to the Armory, two on the night train from the Military Training Camp at Plattsburg. On the arrival of the Plattsburgers, early on the 20th, the Company was completely assembled. Everything in the Company Room seemed the same as usual except for an undercurrent of excitement among the men and frantic activity on the part of Supply Sergeant Bill Abbot. But as the week wore on the old Company changed considerably. Large numbers of recruits came in and non-coms were detailed to drill them. George Miles, a good-natured private, was promoted to Mess Sergeant, Jerry Stanton was made cook and chevrons appeared on many a virgin sleeve.
We went home every night, reported back at an unearthly hour in the morning and spent much of the day drilling up and down Park Avenue. On Friday, June 23, we had a farewell parade down Fifth Avenue to 36th Street and back while great crowds lined the sidewalks and gave us an enthusiastic send-off. Meantime next of kin, present and future, and other relatives and friends crowded into the Armory at all hours, giving it the appearance of a perpetual parade night. On Monday, however, all outsiders were excluded and a great throng gathered on all the streets around the Armory while soldiers crowded the windows and balconies. The noise was so great that no individual voice could be distinguished and the men lowered strings to the streets to which friends below attached written messages, fruit and so forth. That morning we were examined again by the doctors and, having taken the new dual oath to support the Federal Government as well as the State, were mustered into Fed- eral service.
Early Tuesday, the 27th, we fell in, received sixty rounds of ammunition per man and, at 8:20 a.m., marched out of the Armory in obedience to orders which gave Brownsville, Tex., as our destination, a place we never reached. We hiked over to the Sixth Avenue Elevated, thence by special trains to Grand Street and from there, marched to the ferry. At the latter place were large numbers of wives, sweethearts and mothers who clung to their soldier boys and bid them tearful farewells. We crossed the ferry to Jersey City and en- trained. In a few minutes the wives, mothers and sweethearts appeared again.
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"Goodbye Dolly Grey." Off for the Border, 1916
We did not finally pull out until 1:45 p.m. and the ceremony of leave-taking was gone through every time an engine whistled; it was one of the longest and saddest partings the Ninth Company ever experienced.
Our cars were ordinary day coaches of a very ancient vintage but we made passable sleepers of them by unscrewing the backs and laying them across the space between seats, making a continuous bunk on each side. The lack of facilities for washing was the worst feature. At one or two stations, however,
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water buckets were provided and lines of men, stripped to the waist, would take them, each in his turn, fill them at a faucet and splash water over himself or get a friend to do it for him. At Columbus, Ohio, Charley Cattus, having heard that we were to stop there some time, went up the street to a barber shop and hired a tub. He had hardly got in when the whistle blew to recall the men to the train. Charlie arrived on the run and on time but with water dripping from his hair and body, dressed in breeches and shoes with the rest of his clothes over his arm. He said the crowds on the city street stared at him in shocked surprise as he passed swiftly by.
At Richmond, Ind., the whole population with a brass band was at the sta- tion to wish us bon voyage. The mayor, with local Boy Scouts, filed down the whole length of the train on the outside and grasped the three or four hands thrust out of every window while Company I bellowed its marching song and cheer.
We travelled at a snail's pace and everything seemed to have the right of way over us. Sometimes we were sidetracked for what seemed like hours so as not to interfere with the progress of some local or fast freight. At Indianapolis we got tourist sleepers which were some improvement, though how the railroads ever collected so many old and decrepit cars in one place was a puzzle. Three men were assigned to a section, one in the upper berth and two in the lower. The train would start with a jerk and stop with a crash and a bump. Occa- sionally it broke in two.
There were crowds at every station and as we got farther south, we saw new and interesting types of people and scenery. Everyone looked upon us as pro- tectors who were about to sacrifice ourselves to keep the bandits out of our country. One old lady thanked Headly with tears in her eyes for coming down to save her.
At San Antonio we stopped for the greater part of a day and the Company was marched to the Alamo and allowed to fall out and inspect the building and its historical relics. We had twenty minutes of liberty, the first since leav- ing New York, and many went over to the hotel and tried and unanimously approved some real southern mint juleps. Then we returned to the train and spent several hours expecting to leave any minute. This was the 1st of July and to say that the place was hot is entirely inadequate. It sizzled. In the after- noon we started again and the train rolled on through a ranch country with a flat, prairie aspect, dotted here and there with great herds of cattle under the guard of cow punchers. We were much interested in a small bunch of stunted cactus growing in a field but as we got farther south that soon lost its novelty.
We were now informed that our destination was not Brownsville but McAllen, Tex., a place we had never heard of. Early the next day, July 2, we reached Pharr and saw from the car windows several ruins of buildings which we were told had been burned by raiders the day before. Things began to look exciting but the natives seemed unconcerned. A southern Texan does not appear to have enough energy to get excited. At 9:30 a.m. we stopped alongside of a road at a place called West McAllen and began to detrain.
Company 1, 7th N.Y. Infantry, N.G.U.S., McAllen, Texas, 1916
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It was a strange looking place, flat as a billiard table in every direction except for a very slight rise off to the right, locally known as a hill. Way off in the distance to the south were some real hills which could be seen if one climbed up on a roof and which interested us greatly, at the time, because they were in Mexico. There was no grass in sight or any other familiar vegetation, but acres of cactus, mesquite and other bushes, all of which were equipped with thorns. Everything had thorns. Even the toads had thornlike projections on their heads. What worried us most was the heat, 128 in the shade. The perspiration rolled down our bodies and, at the least exertion, we were all in.
The men slung their packs-or rather their rolls, for the War Department had not issued packs to the National Guard-and with these hot, uncomfortable bundles over our shoulders we marched to a nearby field and stacked arms. This field, which had been cleared of cactus the day before, was to be our home for the next five months.
GETTING SETTLED
Making camp and pitching the heavy Army pyramidal tents is hard work at best. In the suffocating heat to which we were entirely unaccustomed, it was almost unendurable. The man inside, holding the pole, had to be relieved every few seconds or he would suffocate. It was always impossible to stay in a tent when the sun was out, unless the walls were rolled up to allow the air to circulate. A water system had been installed before our arrival with a tap at the head of each street but it seemed impossible to drink enough water. For several days we were in a continual state of desperate thirst aud our clothes were wet rags from the floods that ran out of every pore in our bodies.
We had just finished pitching the tents and cleaning the Company street when suddenly the camp was deluged with a heavy shower, the first-if the natives were to be believed-that had fallen in sixteen months. It had hardly started before every man was dancing about the street in his birthday clothes, removing the accumulated grime of the long bathless journey. The rain was very refreshing but it stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving one slow moving soldier covered with soap and no way of getting it off except by means of the small trickle from a canteen held over his head by an obliging friend.
Our tents, the regular Army pyramidal, were sixteen feet square. Each held a squad of eight men under the command of its Corporal who was responsible for the men and the tent. For about two months, the Army gave us no board floors or cots and we slept on the hard adobe ground, keeping out the water of frequent showers by ditches and dykes, which sometimes had to be improved in the midst of a tropical downpour. As time went on, the members of a squad would club together, buy lumber and build tent floors. Individuals went to town and invested in cots and when we were nearly all equipped with these comforts, the government sent down sufficient floors and cots for the whole camp.
The first night in camp, Company I furnished the guard; and it was a hectic occasion. The sentries, all green and from the offices of New York City, de- veloped the most vivid imaginations. Every bush looked, in the dark, like a
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Mexican and was challenged. The bush failing to answer, the sentry called the Corporal of the Guard. A loose mule became a squadron of Mexican cav- alry and every bug required a consultation with the Corporal lest it be a taran- tula, scorpion, or centipede. Some real live rattlesnakes also caused more or less consternation. All three Corporals were on the run from dark until dawn.
As to tarantulas, scorpions, centipedes and rattlesnakes, we considered all these bugs and reptiles deadly and for the first few days lived in constant dread of them. In time, however, while we looked before sitting down and were careful to shake a shoe before putting it on, we gave little thought to any of these pests. Jack Freeman and his Corporal, sleeping on the ground about two feet apart, woke up one morning to see a tarantula crawling around between their heads. At another time Wilkins came gayly down the street with a huge taran- tula riding on the brim of his hat. The hat was dashed off in a hurry and the big spider killed but nothing more was thought of it.
Scorpions, which looked like small lobsters, were more of a nuisance as they were always getting into the tents and crawling along the inside of the canvas. Most of us got stung by these at one time or another but the result was about the same as though ten hornets had stung in the same place and in a few days the effects disappeared. We saw very few centipedes but I re- member a particularly large one being drawn about on the end of a string by a little three-year-old daughter of a Texan; it was dead.
The first week was spent in laying out and improving the camp, except on July 4 when we had a formal evening parade in honor of the day. Every morn- ing we fell in for reveille roll call at 5:05 a.m., spent part of the day drilling and most of the rest digging up cactus and mesquite bushes, laying out roads and making ditches to carry off the water. The ground was like rubber. A pick, swung with might and main would go in a quarter of an inch or would bounce up without going in at all. We used to sing a song to the air of "When You Wore a Tulip."
When you wore your O.D.'s, Those sweet yellow O.D.'s, And I wore my old black tie, We came down to Texas, To shoot up the Mexes, And for Uncle Sam to die. But we gave up the rifle, With the shovel to trifle, And built mess shacks to keep out the flies. As soldiers we dig ditches, And clean up our breeches, And put on our old black ties.
The addition of a black tie converted our work clothes into formal, full dress for ceremonious occasions and as we never knew until the last moment whether or not black ties were to be worn and as most of them were in a dis- reputable condition, they became something of a regimental joke. Many a time we fell in only to be sent back to our tents either to put on or take off black
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ties according to whether the occasion was to be formal or informal. O.D.'s, of course, were the Army olive drab shirt and breeches.
The soil was so dense it would not absorb water, hence the ditches. Until they were dug, we were alternately in a parched desert and in a shallow lake according to the weather, but were getting more accustomed to the heat which helped matters a great deal.
BARBERS, BEARDS AND BATHS
Many of the things that we took as a matter of course at home were missing at camp. Our hair grew and grew until we looked like the twelve apostles -- and there were no barbers. Then we hiked over to the McAllen hardware store, laid in a supply of scissors and cut each other's hair. For a while men's heads looked like shingled roofs with long hair in some places and short patches or bald spots in between but, in time, a few of the men acquired considerable skill in barbering-notably Elihu Church, an engineer in civil life-and we had the luxury of really good hair cuts without cost or tips. Then came the facial adornment fad. Nearly every man blossomed out with some kind of hairy orna- ment on his face. Most were satisfied with moustaches but some preferred origi- nality. Prouty had a luxuriant, pointed beard which, however, disappeared after his wife had seen him. Then there were burnsides, muttonchops and other creations in the Mid-Victorian style.
One squad went in for moustaches with long waxed tips. In order to get the right effect, they dropped into a store to buy some wax. Spalding was the spokesman and he asked the attractive Mexican girl behind the counter for moustache wax. The girl knew no English and apparently "moustache wax" meant something very improper in Spanish. She turned very red and disap- peared through the back of the store. Immediately a fierce looking Mexican rushed in with fight written all over him. Spalding put on an expression of great innocence and repeated the question. It was understood this time and the squad retired with the wax-to reappear in camp with all the elegance of French beaux from the neck up.
Then there was the question of bathing. In time the government supplied us with good shower baths but, for the couple of months before they were built, we had nothing but a single faucet on the end of a pipe at the head of the street. The place was too public and it was hard for one man to get under the faucet not to mention a hundred or more. So we solved that problem by buying squad tubs of the galvanized variety favored by wash ladies. Each squad had its own tub which was kept between the tents and during rest periods most of these tubs were in use. If you stood up it was hard to reach the water and if you sat down there was very little room left for the water but we managed after a fashion. Some squads added watering pots which, with the help of an assistant, served as shower baths. These tubs also took the place of laundries and when not occupied by humans were apt to be filled with soiled shirts and underclothes which were soaped and scrubbed and hung on tent guys but some- how never recovered their original spotlessness.
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For a long time we ate our meals sitting on the ground in the Company street. The mess tin, which in civil life would be known as an aluminum dish, was placed on the ground in front of the eater. One hand managed spoon or fork and the other waved gently back and forth over the food to keep the flies from completely hiding it. Sometimes a puff of wind covered the food with dust and sand, ruining the flavor if there had happened to be any. If it rained, we ate in our tents. After eating, we stood in line, waiting our turn at the pail of lukewarm water and old rag which were supposed to clean the mess kits. What the mess kit lost, the water gained and no one but Cook Jerry Stanton was surprised when Charlie Schumacher was caught washing his tin in the pail of coffee. Jerry knew which pail he had put the coffee in but the rest of us had no way of telling which was dish water and which coffee. The discomfiture of Schumacher and the fireworks of the cook made it one of the most entertaining meals we had had for some time. After many weeks of this kind of life we built a mess shack which was a great improvement.
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