The single New York regiment to which he had
attached himself required forty wagons to move its baggage. They had a
bakery and cooking establishment that would have done credit to
Broadway. They hurriedly packed all they could carry in readiness for
the march into battle. What would happen to the rest God only knew, but
they hoped for the best. Of course, the battle couldn't last long. It
was only necessary for this grand army to make a demonstration with its
drums throbbing, its fifes screaming, its bayonets flashing and its
magnificent uniforms glittering in the sun--the plumes, the Scotch
bonnets, the Turkish fez, the Garibaldi shirts, the blue and grey and
gold, the black and yellow, and the red and blue of the fire
Zouaves--when the rebel mob saw these things they would take to their
heels.
What the boys were really afraid of was that every rebel would escape
before they could use their handcuffs and ropes. This would be too bad
because the procession through the crowded streets at home would be
incomplete without captives as a warning to future traitors. They were
going to have a load to carry with their blanket rolls, haversack and
knapsack and the full fighting rounds of cartridges, but they were not
going to leave the handcuffs. If they had to drop anything on the march
they might ease up on a blanket or half their heavy cartridges.
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