his subject, I believe
I'll tell you about a royal dinner I had myself while the regiment was
near Pittsburg Landing. It was a few days after the battle, while we
were still at our old camp. I was detailed, as corporal, to take six men
and go to the Landing and load three or four of our regimental wagons
with army rations for our regiment. We reached the Landing about ten
o'clock, reported to the proper officer, who showed us our stuff, and we
went to piling it into the wagons. It consisted of big slabs of fat
side-bacon ("sow-belly"), boxes of hardtack, sacks of rice, beans,
coffee, sugar, and soap and candles. I had an idea that I ought to help
in the work, and was trying to do so, altho so weak from illness that it
required some effort to walk straight. But a big, black haired, black
bearded Irishman, Owen McGrath of my company, one of the squad,
objected. He laid a big hand kindly on my shoulder, and said:
"Carparral, yez is not sthrong enough for this worrk, and yez don't have
to do it, ayether. Jist give me the 't'ority to shupirintind it, and you
go sit down." "I guess you're right, McGrath," I answered, and then, in
a louder tone, for the benefit of the detail, "McGrath, you see to the
loading of the grub. I am feeling a little out of sorts," (which was
true,) "and I believe I'll take a rest." McGrath was about thirty years
old, and a splendid soldier. He had served a term in the British army in
the old country, and was fully onto his present job. (I will tell
another little story about him later.) I sat down in the shade a short
distance from my squad, with my back against some big sacks full of
something. Suddenly I detected a pungent, most agreeable smell. It came
from onions, in the sack behind me. I took out my pocket knife and
stealthily made a hole in that sack, and abstracted two big ones and
slipped them into my haversack. My conscience didn't trouble me a bit
over the matter. I reckon those onions were hospital goods, but I
thought I needed some just as much as anybody in the hospital, which was
probably correct. I had asked Capt. Reddish that morning if, when the
wagons were loaded, I could send them on to camp, and return at my
leisure in the evening, and the kindhearted old man had given a cheerful
consent. So, when the teams were ready to start back, I told McGrath to
take charge, and to see that the stuff was delivered to our
quartermaster, or the commissary sergeant, and then I shifted for
myself,