I asked some one what all this hubbub meant. He looked at me with utter
astonishment. I saw soldiers running to their tents and grabbing their
guns and cartridge-boxes and hurry out again, the drums still rolling and
rattling. I asked several other fellows what in the dickens did all this
mean? Finally one fellow, who seemed scared almost out of his wits,
answered between a wail and a shriek, "Why, sir, they are beating the
long roll." Says I, "What is the long roll for?" "The long roll, man,
the long roll! Get your gun; they are beating the long roll!" This was
all the information that I could get. It was the first, last, and only
long roll that I ever heard. But, then everything was new, and Colonel
Maney, ever prompt, ordered the assembly. Without any command or bugle
sound, or anything, every soldier was in his place. Tents, knapsacks and
everything was left indiscriminately.
We were soon on the march, and we marched on and on and on. About night
it began to rain. All our blankets were back in camp, but we were
expected every minute to be ordered into action. That night we came
to Mingo Flats. The rain still poured. We had no rations to eat and
nowhere to sleep. Some of us got some fence rails and piled them
together and worried through the night as best we could.
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