Uncle Sam’s soldier is a great grumbler when in idleness.  He finds fault with his officers, his food, his quarters, his clothing, his pay, and even with himself.  Nothing pleases him.  He records big, sonorous oaths about his idiocy in swearing away his liberty for a term of years.  But let the alarm of war sound, show him active preparations for a scrimmage with the enemy, and the “regular” is happy.  This was the condition which prevailed at Chickamauga.  The men were full of enthusiasm and worked as hard as the proverbial beavers.  Drills once distasteful and shirked whenever possible were gone through with alacrity and the “boy in blue” was a true soldier, every inch of him.  There was war in sight.

Life at camp Thomas.

On one point at least there was an accord of opinion in rank and file—­the camp was well named.  “Camp George H. Thomas” they called it, in memory of old “Pap,” the hero of Chickamauga, and men and officers alike took a very visible pride in being residents of the tented city.  The establishment of the community at Camp Thomas was much like the establishment of a colony in an unsettled land, in so far as domestic conveniences were concerned.  Everything had to be taken there, and each regiment, which was a small canvas town in itself, had to depend entirely upon its own resources.  Dotted here and there throughout the entire expanse of the fifteen-mile reservation, these cities of tents were seen, and the brave men who lived in them depended upon themselves and each other for what little entertainment they got.  A description of the quarters of one officer will serve for all.  An “A,” or wall tent, 10 by 12 feet, and some of them a size smaller, was his house.  On one side a folding camp cot, with a thin yet comfortable mattress and an abundance of heavy, woolen army blankets.  A table about twenty inches square, with legs that fold up into the smallest possible space, stood near the door at the foot of the cot.  A folding chair or two for his visitors, a large valise or a very small trunk, a bit of looking glass hanging from a tent pole, a tubular lantern, or, if the tenant of the tent was not so fortunate as to possess such a modern light, then a candle attached to a stick in the ground beside his bed.  Tie strings attached to the rear wall of the tent afforded a hanging place for “his other shirt” and a pair of extra shoes.  His leggings and boots were on his feet, and his belt, pistol and saber stood in a corner.  A pad of writing paper, pocket inkstand, a razor strop, unless he had foresworn shaving, a briar or corn-cob pipe, and a bag of tobacco completed the furnishings of his house.  Commanding officers, at regimental headquarters, had an extra roof, or “tent fly,” as an awning in front of their quarters, but otherwise lived as other officers did.

The enlisted men, quartered in the conical wall tents now adopted by the army, bunked with heads to the wall and feet toward the center, from nine to twelve in a tent Their bedding and blankets were good and they were as comfortable as soldiers could hope to be in the field.  Some of the regiments from the remote Northwest had the Sibley conical tent, which has no wall, but which has a small sheet iron stove.  These were more than appreciated during the cold, rainy weather that prevailed at Camp Thomas.