- Joined
- Jan 16, 2015
Humor has helped soldiers through difficult times in every conflict. It would disappear when a battle was imminent, but would reappear once the fighting ended. Tough Confederate combat veterans seem to have possessed it in abundance. Here are a few examples.
Fred Colston, E. P. Alexander's Ordnance Officer, writes of having stopped off at his aunt's place in Martinsburg on the way to Pennsylvania: (I) had a good wash and "fixed up" nicely, clean linen collar, etc. Went up to Main Street the following morning. My appearance attracted the usual attention. Hood’s Texas "boys” were marching along, dirty and dusty. One of them called out, "Oh, Jiminy. Don’t he look nice." A comrade added, “Throw a louse or two on him.”
Colston writes of entering Chambersburg on 28 June: A squad of Maryland Cavalry got into a drug store. Phil Rogers of Baltimore, a druggist at home, was with the squad and promptly annexed a bottle labeled “Spirits Frumenti.” Phil said, “Well boys, it’s a peculiar kind of cordial, very good in small doses but very dangerous otherwise.” So each drank about a quarter of an inch, most of them remarking how much like good whiskey it tasted. This left four full fingers in the bottle which Phil swallowed in one large drink, to the amazement and succeeding disgust of his comrades!
Colston and Lt. John D. Smith of Jordan's battery encountered a farmer of German extraction while on the march: A farmer sitting on a porch watching the troops, who had trodden down a belt of wheat the width of a column of fours, and then swarmed into his front yard to get water, said in a feeling tone, "I have heardt and I have readt of de horrors of warfare, but my utmost conceptions did not equal dis.”
Colston recalled the dreary retreat from Gettysburg, when the army was in a bad humor: The dirt road was churned into a mud about the consistency of molasses and about six inches deep. A Texan with a ragged hat on, and a "don’t care" look called out to a comrade, “**** it, Bill, put your foot down flat and don’t kick up such a hell of a dust.”
Thomas Benton Reed, a private in the 9th Louisiana, also recalled the retreat: Rain began falling. In some places the mud was over our shoe tops and we were as wet as we could be. While marching in this plight some fellow would holler out, “Hello! John, how would you like to be a soldier boy?” Then someone else would say, “Knock that fool in the head.” That would get a big laugh and we would move on better. The soldier’s is the most miserable life that can be thought of.
Another source that I cannot attribute at the moment, observed a finely dressed officer pass by, and remarked to his comrades, "If I were a louse, I'd swim the Potomac River just to crawl on his head."
Ever the gentleman, General Lee invariably expressed himself in polite terms, but his message was always unmistakable: “Ah, General Hood, when you Texans come about, the chickens have to roost mighty high.”
Fred Colston, E. P. Alexander's Ordnance Officer, writes of having stopped off at his aunt's place in Martinsburg on the way to Pennsylvania: (I) had a good wash and "fixed up" nicely, clean linen collar, etc. Went up to Main Street the following morning. My appearance attracted the usual attention. Hood’s Texas "boys” were marching along, dirty and dusty. One of them called out, "Oh, Jiminy. Don’t he look nice." A comrade added, “Throw a louse or two on him.”
Colston writes of entering Chambersburg on 28 June: A squad of Maryland Cavalry got into a drug store. Phil Rogers of Baltimore, a druggist at home, was with the squad and promptly annexed a bottle labeled “Spirits Frumenti.” Phil said, “Well boys, it’s a peculiar kind of cordial, very good in small doses but very dangerous otherwise.” So each drank about a quarter of an inch, most of them remarking how much like good whiskey it tasted. This left four full fingers in the bottle which Phil swallowed in one large drink, to the amazement and succeeding disgust of his comrades!
Colston and Lt. John D. Smith of Jordan's battery encountered a farmer of German extraction while on the march: A farmer sitting on a porch watching the troops, who had trodden down a belt of wheat the width of a column of fours, and then swarmed into his front yard to get water, said in a feeling tone, "I have heardt and I have readt of de horrors of warfare, but my utmost conceptions did not equal dis.”
Colston recalled the dreary retreat from Gettysburg, when the army was in a bad humor: The dirt road was churned into a mud about the consistency of molasses and about six inches deep. A Texan with a ragged hat on, and a "don’t care" look called out to a comrade, “**** it, Bill, put your foot down flat and don’t kick up such a hell of a dust.”
Thomas Benton Reed, a private in the 9th Louisiana, also recalled the retreat: Rain began falling. In some places the mud was over our shoe tops and we were as wet as we could be. While marching in this plight some fellow would holler out, “Hello! John, how would you like to be a soldier boy?” Then someone else would say, “Knock that fool in the head.” That would get a big laugh and we would move on better. The soldier’s is the most miserable life that can be thought of.
Another source that I cannot attribute at the moment, observed a finely dressed officer pass by, and remarked to his comrades, "If I were a louse, I'd swim the Potomac River just to crawl on his head."
Ever the gentleman, General Lee invariably expressed himself in polite terms, but his message was always unmistakable: “Ah, General Hood, when you Texans come about, the chickens have to roost mighty high.”