Post by shiloh on Jun 1, 2005 6:27:44 GMT 12.75
The following is from a Bohemian Brigade reporter attached to the 9th KY (US) during the Resaca battle last week. It shows the "terrible" inner demons we re-enactors sometimes must face before and after the battles.
Daily
New-York Tribune
Monday, May 23, 1864
BRILLIANT CAREER RUINED
1ST SGT HELPLESS
FAMILY LEFT WANTING
Arriving at the camp of the 9th KY Regt, (US) Inf., Co. B, on the afternoon of Friday, 20th May, and finding suitable field accommodations there, I took my leisure for the evening enjoying the company of friends I had not seen for some time. We passed the time discussing the war and news of families at home, and in recitation of the many events that had transpired since last we met.
Periodically it was noted that the company’s 1st Sgt., Harry Dolph, had been detained in Nashville and thus was not yet in camp, but was expected to arrive at some time during the night. As the weather was quite comfortable, and the peacefulness of the woods in which we were located was a delightful contrast to the noise and busyness to which I was accustomed, I resolved to stay awake and await Sgt. Dolph’s arrival, thinking he would likely appear by midnight or one o’clock.
At two o’clock in the morning, Sgt. Dolph still not in camp, Pvt. White arose from a deep sleep, for which the men offered multitudinous blessings to their Maker, as the aforementioned sleep often incorporated thunderous inhalations that threatened to awaken even those who had gone to their final sleep in Glory. Pvt. White and I observed a heaving fog rolling in over the adjacent field and then as quickly retreating, and at three o’clock, 1st Sgt. Dolph finally arrived. We exchanged greetings, and he notified us that his late arrival was due, in part, to his having taken advantage of the culinary offerings at a local Chattanooga establishment. We gave it little consideration at the time, and resolved to make use of what little time was left before reveille for sleep.
The next evening, however, the real reason for the 1st Sgt.’s delay became apparent in a series of events that must be related with delicacy and sadness, but in truth, with the hope that others who may also be facing this evil seduction may be saved from its frightful snare.
In what seemed at first an innocent exercise of generosity, Maj. Jeffrey, the Company Surgeon, produced a rather large supply of salted, roasted peanuts. I partook of the shelled treats, in moderation, but quickly set them aside, as I was still enjoying the fullness of my ham and bread dinner, followed by Maj. Jeffrey’s cherry cobbler and Mrs. Brunner’s chocolate pie. It is important to note, at this juncture, that 1st Sgt. Dolph had previously eaten his fill as well.
But the peanuts were quickly taken up by the 1st Sgt., and he proceeded to eat peanut after peanut, all the while comparing himself to a “stuffed tick.” I inquired as to whether I should remove the supply of peanuts from his reach, to which he agreed, saying, “I can’t help myself.” Having waited up so long the previous night, I was in need of sleep, and went a few yards away to lie down in my tent.
A few minutes later, I noticed a shuffling of positions near the fire, and overheard the 1st Sgt.’s observation that his new position carried the advantage of putting him “closer to the peanuts.”
Suspecting he was about to give in to baser instincts, I at once admonished him, shouting, “Don’t do it, man!” Sensing that he truly was drowning in the cesspool of a desperately serious peanut addiction, I knew that passivity would not suffice. Intervention was required, and I jumped from my tent and ran to where he was seated, snatching the peanuts from his hand. A brief scuffle ensued, but I determined to wrest the evil legumes from him, and did so with some effort, assuring him that any hatred he may have felt for me at that moment would be replaced by gratitude when he had escaped the
haunting call of those sirenic shelled demons.
But he would not let go his obsession without a struggle. No sooner had I disassociated him from his drug of choice, than he cried out in agony, “I need them! I’ve got to have them! I can’t do without them!” I tried to shame him, saying, “Think what you’re doing to your family…your poor wife unable to feed her children, and your children going without proper clothing, all because you can’t resist peanuts. A good father and husband would send his pay home to his family. But not you! You make a few dollars, and you spend every penny of it on peanuts! Your wife and children forced to subsist on the generosity of neighbors, but do you care? Not as long as you have your precious peanuts! What kind of man are you?”
He replied, with profound sadness, “I just can’t help myself. Why, I’ve even been known to crush a whole pound of peanuts, mix them with butter, and eat it all in one sitting!”
“Get hold of yourself, Harry!” I begged. “You’ve got to beat this thing or you’ll surely lose everything, your wife, your children, your home…why, I’ll wager you’d even sell your rifle for peanuts. Are you hiding peanuts? Do you sneak them into your haversack so you can feel their narcotic effects during battles?! Are you marching under the influence of peanuts?! Mark my words, Harry Dolph; the Devil will exact a heavy price from you for this. We’ve got to get you into a hospital before you desert in a desperate search for peanuts and lose your stripes.”
The next morning revealed the horrible truth of the night before. Unable to fight his urges, 1st Sgt. Dolph had gotten into the remaining peanuts while I was asleep, and had eaten himself into a peanut coma. Indeed, I found this once heroic soldier now reduced to a mere shell of his former valiant and glorious self.
Daily
New-York Tribune
Monday, May 23, 1864
BRILLIANT CAREER RUINED
1ST SGT HELPLESS
FAMILY LEFT WANTING
Arriving at the camp of the 9th KY Regt, (US) Inf., Co. B, on the afternoon of Friday, 20th May, and finding suitable field accommodations there, I took my leisure for the evening enjoying the company of friends I had not seen for some time. We passed the time discussing the war and news of families at home, and in recitation of the many events that had transpired since last we met.
Periodically it was noted that the company’s 1st Sgt., Harry Dolph, had been detained in Nashville and thus was not yet in camp, but was expected to arrive at some time during the night. As the weather was quite comfortable, and the peacefulness of the woods in which we were located was a delightful contrast to the noise and busyness to which I was accustomed, I resolved to stay awake and await Sgt. Dolph’s arrival, thinking he would likely appear by midnight or one o’clock.
At two o’clock in the morning, Sgt. Dolph still not in camp, Pvt. White arose from a deep sleep, for which the men offered multitudinous blessings to their Maker, as the aforementioned sleep often incorporated thunderous inhalations that threatened to awaken even those who had gone to their final sleep in Glory. Pvt. White and I observed a heaving fog rolling in over the adjacent field and then as quickly retreating, and at three o’clock, 1st Sgt. Dolph finally arrived. We exchanged greetings, and he notified us that his late arrival was due, in part, to his having taken advantage of the culinary offerings at a local Chattanooga establishment. We gave it little consideration at the time, and resolved to make use of what little time was left before reveille for sleep.
The next evening, however, the real reason for the 1st Sgt.’s delay became apparent in a series of events that must be related with delicacy and sadness, but in truth, with the hope that others who may also be facing this evil seduction may be saved from its frightful snare.
In what seemed at first an innocent exercise of generosity, Maj. Jeffrey, the Company Surgeon, produced a rather large supply of salted, roasted peanuts. I partook of the shelled treats, in moderation, but quickly set them aside, as I was still enjoying the fullness of my ham and bread dinner, followed by Maj. Jeffrey’s cherry cobbler and Mrs. Brunner’s chocolate pie. It is important to note, at this juncture, that 1st Sgt. Dolph had previously eaten his fill as well.
But the peanuts were quickly taken up by the 1st Sgt., and he proceeded to eat peanut after peanut, all the while comparing himself to a “stuffed tick.” I inquired as to whether I should remove the supply of peanuts from his reach, to which he agreed, saying, “I can’t help myself.” Having waited up so long the previous night, I was in need of sleep, and went a few yards away to lie down in my tent.
A few minutes later, I noticed a shuffling of positions near the fire, and overheard the 1st Sgt.’s observation that his new position carried the advantage of putting him “closer to the peanuts.”
Suspecting he was about to give in to baser instincts, I at once admonished him, shouting, “Don’t do it, man!” Sensing that he truly was drowning in the cesspool of a desperately serious peanut addiction, I knew that passivity would not suffice. Intervention was required, and I jumped from my tent and ran to where he was seated, snatching the peanuts from his hand. A brief scuffle ensued, but I determined to wrest the evil legumes from him, and did so with some effort, assuring him that any hatred he may have felt for me at that moment would be replaced by gratitude when he had escaped the
haunting call of those sirenic shelled demons.
But he would not let go his obsession without a struggle. No sooner had I disassociated him from his drug of choice, than he cried out in agony, “I need them! I’ve got to have them! I can’t do without them!” I tried to shame him, saying, “Think what you’re doing to your family…your poor wife unable to feed her children, and your children going without proper clothing, all because you can’t resist peanuts. A good father and husband would send his pay home to his family. But not you! You make a few dollars, and you spend every penny of it on peanuts! Your wife and children forced to subsist on the generosity of neighbors, but do you care? Not as long as you have your precious peanuts! What kind of man are you?”
He replied, with profound sadness, “I just can’t help myself. Why, I’ve even been known to crush a whole pound of peanuts, mix them with butter, and eat it all in one sitting!”
“Get hold of yourself, Harry!” I begged. “You’ve got to beat this thing or you’ll surely lose everything, your wife, your children, your home…why, I’ll wager you’d even sell your rifle for peanuts. Are you hiding peanuts? Do you sneak them into your haversack so you can feel their narcotic effects during battles?! Are you marching under the influence of peanuts?! Mark my words, Harry Dolph; the Devil will exact a heavy price from you for this. We’ve got to get you into a hospital before you desert in a desperate search for peanuts and lose your stripes.”
The next morning revealed the horrible truth of the night before. Unable to fight his urges, 1st Sgt. Dolph had gotten into the remaining peanuts while I was asleep, and had eaten himself into a peanut coma. Indeed, I found this once heroic soldier now reduced to a mere shell of his former valiant and glorious self.