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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Oh, come on and go! All the people are going at home." And, after all, no one in the Army of the Valley went to church! The bugler blew another call, the chaplains stopped short in their sedate stride, short as if they had been shot, "Old Hundred" was not sung. Break camp Break camp! The regiments, marching down to Meechum's Station, were of one mind. Old Jack was losing his religion.
"Captain Sweetsir, instruct your men to empty their magazines, assemble accoutrements, and stand at ease in marching order." The captain came onto his tiptoes in order to elongate himself as a human interrogation-point. "Captain Sweetsir, order your bugler to sound retreat!"
For a few moments they lay there, not attempting to keep up much of a fire, for now that they were close to Uncle Sam's regulars, who were firing steadily, it would have been suicide for a brown man to raise his head at all. "Ta-ra-ta-ra-ta!" The bugler, sticking close to the officer, had to sound the order this time, for the cessation of firing.
Prescott wheeled about and rode forward at a walk. In the same instant, the bugler, a musician belonging to the Regular Army, trotted forward, then slowed down to a walk close to the young squadron commander. From that time on, all the commands were to be given by the bugle. "Trot! March!" traveled on clear, musical notes, and the long line of young horsemen moved forward at a faster gait.
Do you want to go to town, while the rest of us are searching the swamps for the aeronaut, Eben?" "I should say not," hastily replied the bugler. "How about you, Noodles?" continued Paul.
The boy, a young marine, who did this part of our musical business, puffed out his cheeks, inflating his lungs the while, and blew a blast that seemed to make the air shake; the boatswain's mates, who always act on such occasions like the chorus at the opera, screeching with their whistles fore and aft up and down the hatchways, repeating with an exasperating repetition the same order little Joey the bugler had already given; while, all the officers who had charge of the respective boats stood up at the gangways to inspect the crews of these as they went down the side to take their places on the thwarts, so as to see they were all properly equipped.
"Mebbe a blast from my horn would reach him?" suggested Eben. "Suppose you try it, eh? Paul?" Fritz remarked. "No harm can come of it, so pitch in Eben," the other told the troop bugler. "And put in all the wind you c'n scrape together," added Seth. Accordingly Eben blew a blast that could have been heard fully a mile away.
*Interlude. *News, The. Ladder Leaning on a Cloud, The. Inside-out. *England, My England. *Mortal Coil, The. *Thimble, The. Bugler of the Immortals, The. *Coming of the Terror, The. *Mad Man, the Dead Man, and the Devil, The. *Gold Fish, The. *Camouflage. *Red and White. Behind the Veil. *Passing of Pan, The. *Holy Fire. *'Melia No-Good. *Return, The. *Lazarus. Evocation, The. "Huppdiwupp."
I think six or seven horses were killed at that place, and later on I heard of a bugler having his head cut off, and two or three others killed by shell, but otherwise I believe the artillery did us no damage, though to most men it is more terrifying than rifle fire.
Again he directs his eyes forward; they slowly traverse that malign and awful crest. He addresses a calm word to his bugler. Tra-la-la! Tra-la-la! The injunction has an imperiousness which enforces it. It is repeated by all the bugles of all the sub-ordinate commanders; the sharp metallic notes assert themselves above the hum of the advance and penetrate the sound of the cannon.
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