Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 January 1899 — Letter From John Hayes. [ARTICLE]

Letter From John Hayes.

Ft. Barrancas, Fla. Jan. 6,1899. Batteries H. and L, Ist Arrillery. We are now at Ft. Barrancas. This post is situated in the western part of Florida, about nine miles west of Pensacola, one of the largest seaport towns in the south. Just south of us, about a mile, is the Pensacola Bay, which lies between us and Fort Pickens, where we spent the hot months of July and August. Fort Pickens is situated on the extreme western end of Santa Rosa Island. It is a much stronger fort than Fort Barrancas. In case of a serious battle we would be sent there. There was a detachment of twenty men from each battery remained there when we left for this place. There has been no bad sickness in the camp yet, although we were quarintined a few days thinking that there was yellow fever at Pensacola, but it proved to be a mistake. We are school now and schooling on gunnery, preparing for the examination which will be held in the spring of the year. Captain Harris, First Lieut. Martin, Second Lieut. Tanner, are the commissioned officers of H. Battery and Capt. Marsh, First Lieut. Smith and Second Lieut. Kelton are the commissioned officers of L. Battery. They seem to be all very nice men. It is very warm down here now Everything is as green and nice as they were last summed , It doesn’t seem like winter to me, not being used to the south.

We have, been expecting to move to Cuba or San Francisco for a long while but we can’t tell when we will go. Some of the boys are being discharged out of the two Batteries now , and they are recruiting the Batteries up to keep them to full strength. A few of the boys are very anxious to get out of the army on account of the hard times which they see, but we are faring better since we left Ft. Pickens. It is a’wonder that some of us hadn’t died while there, but there wasn’t a one died. One of the boys composed a short poem about Ft. Pickens which is about right. It is as follows:

You can talk about your calaboose. Poorhouse and county jail. And speak about your penitentiary. Reform school and old-time nigger sale; And think about your electric chair. The gallows, the devil, (or the dickens); But none of these are in it! J ust Come down and see Fort Pickens. There’s the Gulf, the Bay—in fact There's water all around it— "■, And darn me if 1 can see how Uncle Sam ever found it; And why he claimed it when he did. Is a problem I’ve been working at; But I’ll never find the answer, for There's no base, rail, or anything like that. There's just this plain old island, A mile or more from main land. And four-hundred home-sick soldiers A dwelling in the sand. Eating slum and hard-tack, and a Working hard of nights Killing sand-fleas and iizzards. And scratching mdbquito bites. You dare not go to sleep. But simply wait for bugle calls— For the penalty is for every absent man One day a rollin’ cannon balls— And if the inspector comes around And finds your tent not clean. He will put you in the lock-up— Or the guard house, (I mean). And when you have served your time. And have been released from this pen You can scrub up your old muskit And fall in line again; And of Sunday’s, how your mouth Will water, waiting for 12 o'clock to come. A thinking of the big dinner of flam burger steak and slum. And when the grab is given out and We're sitting on the ground. Everything is quiet and You’d scarcely hear a sound. Until the spell is broken by some “Rooky,” long and slim. Who thinks that there’s something else That justly comes to hint. How quickly he will leave his seat. And “double time” for the ktycben door. And say, “Mister ginme ‘seconds;’ them Was ‘firsts' that I had before." And while this “Rooky" is in the kitchen A pleadin’ for more grab. You will hear some otberfellow holler, “i’ll give two onions for a ‘spud’ And when this great big meal is over and We’ve picked the “tater peelin’s” np. Then well wash our dinner dishes. (I mean tin pan and cup), Then we'll our rifles down Just to clean them up a while. For we know what's a comin Its “Recruits, fall in! single file.”

“Pot your teeis together. stand erect!*’ And “raise your left elbow!” Now “Port arms! Charge bayonets!” “Wake up. there; don’t be so slow!” After this has continued for Three hours or more And you’re had a callin'down and Takin’ “cussin's” by the score— Then you'll think you've got A plenty of this here soldier life. And wish you were up in Indiana, a lirin.’ with your “wife." And. as for me. I'm a cornin' . Just as soon as I get able: I only wish that I was right There now. a “chinnin." daddy's table. It is the truth, Ft. Pickens is very hard to beat for living, but I can stand a few months longer although there are better places that I would like just as well. Yonrs Truly John G. Hayes.