Here began the ceaseless preparation
for the part the regiment was to play in the grand drama of war that was
to follow, all this camp life and concentration being but the prologue.
The camp was a most beautiful one, the weather pleasant, and it was
indeed a most inspiring sight to see the long unbroken lines of blue go
swinging by, keeping absolute time and perfect alignment to the
inspiring strains of some air like "Hot time in the old town to-night,"
or "The stars and stripes forever."
I had started in with my regiment and expected to remain on duty with it
until the end of the war, sharing all its perils and hardships, doing my
part in the fighting, and partaking of any of the renown it might
achieve should the Dons ever be met. But "Man proposes and God
disposes," and on the afternoon of May 21st, I was sitting in my tent
correcting some manuscript when a very bright-eyed colored newsboy came
along and said:
"Buy a paper, cap'n."
That was the day that a wild rumor had been in circulation that Sampson
had met Cervera in the Bahama Channel and completely smashed him, so I
laid down my manuscript and said:
"Anything in there about Sampson licking Cervera?"
"Naw, sir, dat were a fake, cap'n, but dere is lots of oder news fur
you.
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