Rensselaer Republican, Volume 26, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 July 1894 — UNCLE SAM’S SOGER BOYS. [ARTICLE]

UNCLE SAM’S SOGER BOYS.

They Do their Duty in a Business-Like May. Indianapolis Sun. Lieut. Dan Thompson got a streak of reminiscence-relating, the other evening, and his subject was the recent strike, now deceased. He was with the detachment of the Light Artillery company that went up to Hammond to place a quietus on the Lake county anarchists, whom he says are as plentiful as blackberries in Brown county. He returned an ardent admirer of the regular army-soldiers, and of them he tells some pleasing anecdotes: “Its worth a trip of several miles,” said he, “to see one of Uncle Sam’s soldiers get into action. There’s an air of business about his every movement that makes one shudder. Those fellows.up at Hammond were there about three weeks and they didn’t have a single change of clothing. They came from Indian Territory, anyway, where cleanliness is at a premium. They had been riding on coal cars and engine tenders, sleeping on the ground and carefully avoiding water, except to take an occasional sup when beer could not be purchased, until their shabby beards had gathered one of the greatest geological assortments you ever saw. A plaster of coal dust and perspiration covered them from head to foot. They had on their old uniforms, which they always wear on a campaign. They were torn, greasy and begrimed. Now and then a dirty glimpse -of human leg could be seen through a rent in the trowsers, and elbows poked curiously through sleeves into outer air. Dirty, heavy, blue flannel shirts are the rule, and their hats are of the broad-rimmed, felt variety, which are worn turned upOehind and in front, while the crown is caved in uncerimoniousiy. The proper caper in shoes is the brogan, with a fresco of mud or dust. And those fellows aie typical toughs, he continued. They swagger, lots of them do, when off duty, just like a bestriped and bediamoned tenderloin gambler. With their bands half inserted in the pockets of their trowsers, which are suspended low and .dangerously loose, by their belts,and a surplus of shirt bulging out above the waist-band, they are a sight to behold.” “But my, my,” he continued,“you oii r< ht to see the change when the V II LAV-.** LILAV bugle sounds a call for action. You know the buglers in the state militia are very deliberative about giving the various bugle calls. The rapidity with which the United States buglers tongue the calls is remark .able, and startles one upon hearing it. And no sooner is it begun than these greasy fellows are on the alert and every spinal column is as stiff as they get. In action they are oblivious to all except orders, and at Hammond they did not seem to notice the mob, that day, when arm 3 were being procured to [ wipe them out of existence and life wasn’t near at par value. It was a sight to see that Monon train as it pulled slowly through the lowd, a howling, maddened, bloodthirsty mob on each side, while on the engine pilot, cab, tender and on top of the car 3 were scattered that handful of 30 regulars, cool and calm as if they were behind stone walls and not an - enemy in sight. The mob became uglier every minute, but the regulars simply stood or sat still, many of • them chewing tobacco and expectorating when an officer wasn’t looking. The order to fire came. Quick as a flash the heavy rifles were in position to load. Out of their belts the burly fellows jerked three or four cartridges. One went into the gun. The others they stuck between their teeth for the sake

lof handiness. During every moment consumed in loading, aiming and firing there was a smack of business that made one shudder. Their business is to kill, and thpy’er professionals such as the rest of the world is not. They were men who had seen service in . the Indian country and who played dreadful havoc among the red-skins at Wounded Knee. And when the firing was I over they rt sumed that half-sleepy, j seemingly careless attitude, apparently forgetting that their bullets carried messages of death •” “During the firing I walked into a railroad coach where sat an old, grayhaired office. He was day-dreaming,

and calmly watching the rings of smoke which curled up from under his bushy, gray mustache. ‘This thing looks terribly cloudy,’ I said saluting him. ‘ W-e-e-ll,’ said he in drawling manner,‘l guess my men can clean up the atmosphere.’ He said it as if shooting a man dowD was an every day occurrence, and then went back to his day-dreaming and cigar, while a short distance away i ifit s were crackmg and leaden pellets were revengefully seeking human victims.”