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daily drilled in citizen's clothes at the armory, then at 344 Washington Street, but now (1893) 576. We were taken out on the streets every day and taught to march in step, to the no small amusement of boys who gathered about to watch our transformation from raw recruits to soldiers. The people, however, were in earnest, and every encouragement was offered to young men to enlist. At this time every man was looked upon as a hero who enlisted.

The armory at 344 Washington Street being too small to accommodate so large a number of men, Nassau Hall, corner of Washington and Common Streets, was procured, and our effects transferred to that building. Here we found a commodious hall well fitted for drilling, and hours were spent each day by squads of raw recruits in attempting to order arms in unison. It seemed so easy a thing to do when the order was given, that we were at a loss to understand why each gun should fall at a separate moment, making a clatter like the rattle of a drum, sorely trying the patience of our drillmasters. "Now, the next time I give an order I want you to follow my count. 'Shoulder arms! one, two, three!' That's better." "Present arms! one, two." Then it was, "Forward, march! one, two; one, two, halt!" "About face! Forward, march! one, two; one, two." "Mark time, march! one, two; one, two, halt!"

It seemed extraordinary that it took so much time in learning to do these simple things together, yet it took days and days before we could make a creditable appearance in public. It seemed very odd to us, that, having acquired a reasonable degree of proficiency under one officer, we could do nothing but bungle under the commands of another, until we realized how rare was a drill-master who could infuse into men the precision necessary for good soldiers.

As soon as we acquired skill enough to "order arms" together, we longed for the time when we could march through the streets in our uniforms. With a month's continuous daily work, we naturally felt that we would make a fine appearance as we paraded through the streets. Just prior to the war the people of Boston had an opportunity of witnessing the wonderful skill exhibited by Ellsworth's Zouaves. The remarkable exactness and concert of their every movement was never excelled by any body of men, and excited a

spirit of emulation among officers and soldiers in the vicinity of Boston. Some of us whose heads were easily turned by our small success began to think we had acquired a pretty good degree of excellence in the manual of arms.

At last an order was received for us to take charge of Fort Independence. We had been armed with the "Winsor" rifle, a heavy, bungling arm to which was attached a sabre bayonet, so extraordinary in appearance as to give to another company, commanded by Captain Dodd, and armed with the same rifle, the name of "Dodd's carvers." When the bayonet was affixed it certainly did suggest the sanguinary operation of carving.

COMPANY E.

Company E, known as the Roxbury Rifles, was organized about the 25th of April, 1861, by the election of Dennis S. Bartlett as captain, Charles R. M. Pratt as first lieutenant, and Joseph Colburn as second lieutenant. After its organization, the company was quartered in Bacon's Hall, Roxbury, the boys obtaining their meals at a restaurant near by. From this time on until Sunday, the 12th of May, the company was daily drilled in citizen's clothes. On that day the company appeared for the first time in new uniforms furnished by the State, and attended divine service at the Dudleystreet Baptist church, at completion of which service each man was presented with a Testament.

Drilling was continued daily without interruption until the company joined the Fourth Battalion of Rifles, and with it went to Fort Independence.

On the 25th of May the five companies, with knapsacks, blankets, etc., marched down State Street to the wharf, where they took the steamer "Nelly Baker" for the fort, and where they arrived in due time.

It was a joyous day, though cloudy. We were puffed up with pride and importance at our new responsibility and the knowledge that we were to relieve the New England Guards, who had been garrisoning the fort for a fortnight. The New England Guards was one of the crack organizations of Massachusetts, of which the citizens of Bos

ton were justly proud. It subsequently became the nucleus of the Twenty-fourth Regiment, that left Massachusetts for the seat of war December 9, 1861, and afterward made a glorious record.

As we marched into the fort, that battalion was drawn up in line to receive us. As we watched with admiration the precision and skill with which they performed their movements, we shed a big lot of conceit.

The duties of a soldier began immediately on their departure. We were in possession of a fortification of the United States, and the responsibilities seemed immense. We were to guard it, and see that it was not stolen or captured by the enemy.

A detail was made from each company for guard duty, and the writer began at once the tremendous duties of a soldier. Being placed on the extreme southern point of the island, nearest the enemy, he was cautioned to watch carefully, that the enemy might not come up the harbor without warning being given of his approach. There seemed nothing ridiculous in all this; the caution was given and received in all earnestness. These instructions were the first and, so far as can be recalled, the only ones he ever received, and they made a deep impression on his mind. We often laughed afterwards as we reflected on the difference between this and the reality, though it was real enough to us then. Not a wink did some of us sleep that night. The responsibility was too great for sleep.

Morning came at last, beautiful and bright, with the fort still safe. As the men turned out of their quarters, in the morning air, to fold their bright red blankets, it was indeed a picturesque sight. The battalion companies were quartered in the fort, while the Roxbury Rifles were quartered in barracks outside.

During our stay at the fort, Sundays were visiting days, and the duties light, so we had ample time to devote to the friends who came to see us Visitors were also admitted on other days of the week; but they were not allowed to interfere with our duties. We drilled seven hours each day during the week, besides guard-mounting and dress parade.

Major Leonard, who was in command of the battalion, was known

long before he became a brigadier-general in the State militia by his superior qualifications as a drill-master, and he was possessed with the determination to show what he could do with raw recruits.

After dress parade our work was done for the day, except the roll-call at tattoo, when we were obliged to fall in line and answer to our names. We then had a half-hour to complete our arrangements for the night, when "taps" were sounded for the lights to be put out, which was a signal for us to go to sleep. Sleep rarely came before midnight, however, owing to the noise which began the moment the lights were extinguished. It frequently happened that the "Officer of the day" would interrupt the noise by telling us to "Go to sleep!" which had the very opposite effect. We had great larks in those days, and played all the pranks in the calendar. Some of the boys whose quarters adjoined the sally-port would listen at the nearest casemate to hear the countersign repeated as some one, passing in or out of the fort, would give it to the sentinel, when a mock "grand rounds" would be organized and each post visited, the guard being scolded for some imaginary neglect, and ordered to report to his captain in the morning. The hours of the night were called by the sentinel on each post as he heard the bells striking in the city, adding "All's well!" The guard on the ramparts of the fort frequently, sticking his head in one of the chimneys, would yell, "And the wind north-east, and it blows like h-1!" which, of course, would wake up every man in the room, bringing the officer of the guard to the quarters to quell the disturbance. The guard, by means of the chimney, would warn the occupants of the officer's approach, whereupon he was sure to be greeted with a loud and continuous snore; the guard in the meantime stealing along to the other side. of the ramparts, a safe distance from the confusion.

Until the 29th of June we lived well, having our own cook, plenty to eat, and a ration of beer served us each day. It was the custom to detail a man from each mess to draw the allowance of food, and whoever possessed ability to get the greatest quantity of food for the smallest number of men was sure to receive a large amount of praise and popularity. It was a talent more highly appreciated than any other accomplishment.

Each morning we were awakened by the veteran drummer, "Dan Simpson," and "Si Smith," the fifer. "Old Si," as we called him, looked as though he was left over from the crusades, so thin and worn with age he appeared. Both of these veterans could date their service back to the War of 1812. At five o'clock in the morning they would come out to the sally-port, and after wrangling a bit (for it should be known that the lapse of time had not improved their tempers) they would sound the reveille which turned us out to answer to roll-call. Smith weighed about seventy-five pounds, though he didn't look it. His coat-sleeve, which seemed no larger round than a baby's arm, was covered with service stripes from wrist to shoulder. In spite of his attenuated figure, he managed to get wind enough to make his old fife sound as clear as a bell. "Good morning, Si!" would be heard as the boys turned out. "How's your

old friend, Miles Standish?"

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In addition to these venerable relics from "Ye olden time had four musicians from the "Germania Band," who provided us with music at guard mounting and at dress parade.

One of the features of the day's work was "dress parade," at sunset; at which time we turned out in full uniform to take our position in line. It was the custom, during this ceremony, to lower the flag on the fort, the band playing while it was being done. One of the airs which the band played was from the " opera of Grenada." To this air the boys fitted the following words: "Corporal of the guard, corporal of the guard, corporal of the guard, post eight." This never lost its popularity with us. It was carried into service by our regimental band, and was frequently played by it, always awakening pleasant recollections of our service at the fort. After the band was discharged, which occurred early in September, 1862, we heard it no more until our arrival home.

Thus passed the days until the 29th of June, when the State sent to the fort five more companies: two from Marlboro', one from Natick, one from Westboro', and one from Stoneham.

The addition of these companies made no difference in our drilling, which was pursued relentlessly.

We drifted along until the "Fourth of July" without excitement,

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