story is told, and even then the part of those who fell by the way is wanting.
Orders to move! Where? when? what for?—are the eager questions of the men as they begin their preparations to march. Generally nobody can answer, and the journey is commenced in utter ignorance of where it is to end. But shrewd guesses are made, and scraps of information will be picked up on the way. The main thought must be to "get ready to move." The orderly sergeant is shouting "fall in," and there is no time to lose. The probability is that before you get your blanket rolled up, find your frying pan, haversack, axe, &c., and "fall in," the roll-call will be over, and some "extra duty" provided.
No wonder there is bustle in the camp. Rapid decisions are to be made between the various conveniences which have accumulated, for some must be left. One fellow picks up the skillet, holds it awhile, mentally determining how much it weighs, and what will be the weight of it after carrying it five miles, and reluctantly, with a half-ashamed, sly look, drops it and takes his place in ranks. Another having added to his store of blankets too freely, now has to decide which of the two or three he will leave. The old water-bucket looks large and heavy, but one stout-hearted, strong-armed man has taken it affectionately to his care.
This is the time to say farewell to the bread-tray, farewell to the little piles of clean straw laid between two logs, where it was so easy to sleep; farewell to those piles of wood, cut with so much labor; farewell to the girls in the neighborhood; farewell to the spring, farewell to "our tree" and "our fire," good-bye to the fellows who are not going, and a general good-bye to the very hills and valleys.
Soldiers commonly threw away the most valuable articles they possessed. Blankets, overcoats, shoes, bread and meat,—all gave way to the necessities of the march; and what one man threw away would frequently be the very article another wanted and would immediately pick up. So there was not much lost after all.
The first hour or so of the march was generally quite orderly—the men preserving their places in ranks and marching with a good show of order; but soon some lively fellow whistles an air, somebody else starts a song, the whole column breaks out with roars of laughter, "route step" takes the place of order, and the jolly singing, laughing, talking and joking that follows none could describe.
Now let any young officer dare to pass along who sports a new
