CHAPTER IX.

FENNER’S LOUISIANA BATTERY.

Dear friends, when you read the caption of this page in my book of “Memories,” do not accuse me in your hearts of favoritism.  Of all soldiers who wore the gray, only one was nearer than others to my heart.  I took no special pride in one organization above others, save in the command to which my husband belonged.  Surely this is quite natural.

Who does not remember the epidemic of blue cockades which broke out in New Orleans during the winter of 1860 and 1861, and raged violently throughout the whole city?  The little blue cockade, with its pelican button in the centre and its two small streamers, was the distinguishing mark of the “Secessionist.”

By none was it more universally and proudly worn than by the youth and young men, who, in April, 1861, discarded it with their citizen’s dress and began “the wearing of the gray,” which they have helped to make a garb of honor and a glory forever.

When the Dreux Battalion embarked for Pensacola, it was with a definite purpose in view, and a certain conviction that they would at once meet and vanquish the enemy.  Their prowess was to teach the Yankee a lesson and to settle matters inside of sixty days.  They fully expected to fight, and were eager to begin.  Day after day, night after night, they momentarily expected an assault upon Fort Pickens.  But they did not expect to be set at the hard duty of digging and wheeling sand hour after hour, and throwing up intrenchments under a burning sun.

Then the irksomeness of being under military discipline, which at first was frequently infringed.  For instance, a party of Orleans Cadets overstayed their leave of absence an hour or two; “upon our return we found ourselves locked up in the guard-house for four hours and a half.”

Here is an account of one of the monotonous days, transcribed from a letter of one of the Orleans Cadets, a boy who had been used at home to take his coffee before rising, a late, comfortable breakfast, and to walk down-town at his leisure on the shady side of the street, clad in the cool, white linen suit then so universally worn:  “We get up at five o’clock to attend roll-call; at 6.30 get our coffee and our breakfast, which consists of crackers and salt pork; at 7.30, back to our tents and pack our knapsack, rub our guns, and get ready for parade at nine o’clock.

“We are now drilling at light infantry tactics (Hardee’s), which occupies until eleven.  We then wash our clothes, bring wood for the cook, also water and various other things; dine at two, and again drill at four until dark; get our supper at seven; lie around until roll-call at nine; afterward go to bed to dream of home.

“General Bragg has just sent us word that we are to be exempt from hard labor at present.”

It is not to be supposed that the men were confined to the rations here mentioned.  All had money and could buy additional food; most of the messes had negro servants, who were excellent cooks, and boxes of goodies arrived continually from home.  But, as I said before, the strict discipline, combined with deprivation of the glorious fighting in which they had expected to participate, was terribly irksome.