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Updated: June 20, 2025
I am taking care of a critical case, now lying in a half lethargy. Near where I sit is a suffering rebel, from the 8th Louisiana; his name is Irving. He has been here a long time, badly wounded, and lately had his leg amputated; it is not doing very well. Right opposite me is a sick soldier-boy, laid down with his clothes on, sleeping, looking much wasted, his pallid face on his arm.
His gray uniform, with white velvet trimmings, his white gauntlets, and his face and hair had received a brief but thorough tanning. Folger marched the two in front of him to the market-place in the centre of the village, where he delivered his captives to the authorities. In one hand the brave soldier-boy carried his empty carbine, and in the other a good strong stick.
It had been long since they had heard from him, and they feared he was not alive. The sun went down upon an abundant supply of fuel, cut in the forest by the strong arms of the soldier-boy, and drawn to the door by means of his procuring. The unbelieving husband and father declared he would never be distrustful again.
This was all a mighty good thing for somebody, no doubt, but it detracted in large chunks from the glamour of war for the soldier-boy; and I fear that the majority of us felt hurt, if not sorely cheated. Nor is it at all certain that the average inhabitant of Puerto Rico is worth coddling, protection, prosperity, "and the immunities and blessings" accorded him by his new rulers.
Poor, pitiful soldier-boy, marking yourself with crosses, performing genuflexions, mumbling magic formulas in the trenches how many billions of you have been led out to slaughter by the greeds and ambitions of your religious masters, since first this accursed Antichrist got its grip upon the hearts of men! I quote from this little book: Start this day well by lifting up your heart to God.
They have even brought in the sex-spell; and the poor, frightened soldier-boy, who has perhaps spent the night with a prostitute, now prostrates himself before a holy Woman-being who is lifted high above the shames of the flesh, and who stirs the thrills of awe and affection which his mother brought to him in early childhood.
The End of the Campaign Arrival of the mail-steamer The soldier-boy and his letters The greater part of the brigade is quartered in Mayaguez Agriculture in Puerto Rico Material result of our campaign A farewell order General Schwan departs for the United States. On the 19th of August a steamer came into the harbor, bringing us a mail, the first we had received since the beginning of July.
Overtook soldier-boy limping, got him to stay awhile and gave him hot chocolate; persuaded him to let his limb be seen to, which he did, and was sent to hospital. I visited hospital corps- fellows and arranged that in case of gas, they would visit and rouse me at night. They are fine fellows. Doughboys bought lots of goods and blessed the Salvation Army a thousand times.
Joe, irritated, said, "What in Zen do you want?" The stranger shook his head, as though to clear it. He sneered, "The famous Joe Mauser, eh? The brave soldier-boy. Well, lemme tell you something, soldier-boy, you don't look so tough to me with your cute little mustache and your fancy-pants uniform. You look like a molly to me." "That's too bad," Joe bit out. "And now, if you'll just go away."
A big Irish soldier-boy got hold of Sheridan's hand and pulled him out of the carriage. Being of small stature, General Sheridan was at the mercy of the stalwart Irishman, who dealt with him in a very rough way, slapping him on the back with great force, and with as much earnestness exclaiming: "Boys, this is the damnedest, bravest little Mick in America!"
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