Thus, therefore, the
plebes got the better part of the joke.
It was rumored in camp one day that the superintendent
and commandant were both absent from the post, and that
the senior tactical officer was therefore acting
superintendent. A plebe sentinel on Post No. 1, seeing
him approaching camp, and not knowing under the
circumstances how to act, or rather, perhaps, I should
say, not knowing whether the report was true or not,
called a corporal, and asked if he should salute this
officer with "present arms." To this question that
dignitary replied with righteous horror, "Salute him
with present arms! No, sir! You stand at attention, and
when he gets on your post shout, 'Hosannah to the supe!'
This rather startled the plebe, who found himself more
confused than ever. When it was about time for the
sentinel to do something the corporal told him what to
do, and returned to the guard tents. The officer was at
the time the commanding officer of the camp.
While walking down Sixth Avenue, New York, with a
young lady, on a beautiful Sabbath afternoon in the
summer of 1875, I was paid a high compliment by an
old colored soldier. He had lost one leg and had been
otherwise maimed for life in the great struggle of
1861-65 for the preservation of the Union. As soon
as he saw me approaching he moved to the outside of
the pavement and assumed as well as possible the
position of the soldier.
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