Well, I arrived in Portland, was sent to the barracks with three or four
thousand others, was allotted a hard bunk, and then for the first time did
I realize what I was doing, what I had committed myself to, and I think if
I could have caught that mustering officer I should have appealed to him
just as hard to muster me out, as I did to muster me in; but I was in it
and must stay. I will never forget the first day of my soldier experience.
With what feeling of awe and thumping of my cowardly, timid heart, I heard
the different commands of the officers. The disciplining began; the
routine of a soldier's life had really started right in Portland, far away
from the front where I had only expected to find it. I was detained in
those barracks only a few days, and the tap of the drum, and the sound of
the bugle as they sounded their different calls, had grown monotonous to
me; I no longer regarded them with awe, but with mockery. I wanted to go
to the front where the real life of a soldier was known, where glory could
be won. I wanted the reality, not boy's play.

I was glad when I was numbered among a squad of about 200 who had orders
to go to Washington. That night we marched down to the depot and were
crowded into cars. I did not care; I was overjoyed: I was delighted at the
prospects of going to the seat of war, near the front, where I thought I
might hear the booming of the cannon, and to a place where I would soon be
forwarded to my regiment. We arrived in Boston, and to my disappointment,
were laid over. We were marched to the barracks on Beach street, which in
early days was the "Beach Street Theater." The seats, benches, gallery,
stage and scenery were all there, and we were crowded into this old,
unused temple of Thespis to select a place to sleep where best we could,
on the floor, or anywhere. Here I began to grow sick of soldiering; we
were in this old musty theater with a guard over us, not allowed to go on
the street, and unable to find out how long we were to be incarcerated
there, for we were treated more like prisoners than men who had
volunteered to serve their country.

I thought it a great hardship at that time, and kicked at it loud and
hard, without any result that benefited us; but since I have been through
it all, I can see where it was absolutely necessary to use the rigid and
seemingly ungrateful discipline. Well, we were kept in the old theater
for about a week; we ware allowed out for two hours eac