Some officers of the Ninth Cavalry6 met us at the station with the post ambulances. There were six companies of our regiment7, with headquarters and band.
It was November, and the drive across the rolling prairie-land gave us a fair glimpse of the country around. We crossed the old bridge over the Niobrara River, and entered the post. The snow lay already on the brown and barren hills, and the place struck a chill to my heart.
The Ninth Cavalry took care of all the officers' families until we could get established. Lieutenant8 Bingham, a handsome and distinguished9-looking young bachelor, took us with our two children to his quarters, and made us delightfully11 at home. His quarters were luxuriously13 furnished, and he was altogether adorable. This, to be sure, helped to soften14 my first harsh impressions of the place.
Quarters were not very plentiful15, and we were compelled to take a house occupied by a young officer of the Ninth. What base ingratitude16 it seemed, after the kindness we had accepted from his regiment! But there was no help for it. We secured a colored cook, who proved a very treasure, and on inquiring how she came to be in those wilds, I learned that she had accompanied a young heiress who eloped with a cavalry lieutenant, from her home in New York some years before.
What a contrast was here, and what a cruel contrast! With blood thinned down by the enervating17 summer at Tucson, here we were, thrust into the polar regions! Ice and snow and blizzards18, blizzards and snow and ice! The mercury disappeared at the bottom of the thermometer, and we had nothing to mark any degrees lower than 40 below zero. Human calculations had evidently stopped there. Enormous box stoves were in every room and in the halls; the old-fashioned sort that we used to see in school-rooms and meeting-houses in New England. Into these, the soldiers stuffed great logs of mountain mahogany, and the fires were kept roaring day and night.
A board walk ran in front of the officers' quarters, and, desperate for fresh air and exercise, some of the ladies would bundle up and go to walk. But frozen chins, ears and elbows soon made this undesirable19, and we gave up trying the fresh air, unless the mercury rose to 18 below, when a few of us would take our daily promenade20.
We could not complain of our fare, however, for our larder21 hung full of all sorts of delicate and delicious things, brought in by the grangers, and which we were glad to buy. Prairie-chickens, young pigs, venison, and ducks, all hanging, to be used when desired.
To frappe a bottle of wine, we stood it on the porch; in a few minutes it would pour crystals. House-keeping was easy, but keeping warm was difficult.
It was about this time that the law was passed abolishing the post-trader's store, and forbidding the selling of whiskey to soldiers on a Government reservation. The pleasant canteen, or Post Exchange, the soldiers' club-room, was established, where the men could go to relieve the monotony of their lives.
With the abolition22 of whiskey, the tone of the post improved greatly; the men were contented23 with a glass of beer or light wine, the canteen was well managed, so the profits went back into the company messes in the shape of luxuries heretofore unknown; billiards24 and reading-rooms were established; and from that time on, the canteen came to be regarded in the army as a most excellent institution. The men gained in self-respect; the canteen provided them with a place where they could go and take a bite of lunch, read, chat, smoke, or play games with their own chosen friends, and escape the lonesomeness of the barracks.
But, alas25! this condition of things was not destined26 to endure, for the women of the various Temperance societies, in their mistaken zeal27 and woeful ignorance of the soldiers' life, succeeded in influencing legislation to such an extent that the canteen, in its turn, was abolished; with what dire28 results, we of the army all know.
Those estimable women of the W. C. T. U. thought to do good to the army, no doubt, but through their pitiful ignorance of the soldiers' needs they have done him an incalculable harm.
Let them stay by their lectures and their clubs, I say, and their other amusements; let them exercise their good influences nearer home, with a class of people whose conditions are understood by them, where they can, no doubt, do worlds of good.
They cannot know the drear monotony of the barracks life on the frontier in times of peace. I have lived close by it, and I know it well. A ceaseless round of drill and work and lessons, and work and lessons and drill—no recreation, no excitement, no change.
Far away from family and all home companionship, a man longs for some pleasant place to go, after the day's work is done. Perhaps these women think (if, in their blind enthusiasm, they think at all) that a young soldier or an old soldier needs no recreation. At all events, they have taken from him the only one he had, the good old canteen, and given him nothing in return.
Now Fort Niobrara was a large post. There were ten companies, cavalry and infantry29, General August V. Kautz, the Colonel of the Eighth Infantry, in command.
And here, amidst the sand-hills of Nebraska, we first began to really know our Colonel. A man of strong convictions and abiding30 honesty, a soldier who knew his profession thoroughly31, having not only achieved distinction in the Civil War, but having served when little more than a boy, in the Mexican War of 1846. Genial32 in his manners, brave and kind, he was beloved by all.
The three Kautz children, Frankie, Austin, and Navarra, were the inseparable companions of our own children. There was a small school for the children of the post, and a soldier by the name of Delany was schoolmaster. He tried hard to make our children learn, but they did not wish to study, and spent all their spare time in planning tricks to be played upon poor Delany. It was a difficult situation for the soldier. Finally, the two oldest Kautz children were sent East to boarding-school, and we also began to realize that something must be done.
Our surroundings during the early winter, it is true, had been dreary33 enough, but as the weather softened34 a bit and the spring approached, the post began to wake up.
In the meantime, Cupid had not been idle. It was observed that Mr. Bingham, our gracious host of the Ninth Cavalry, had fallen in love with Antoinette, the pretty and attractive daughter of Captain Lynch of our own regiment, and the post began to be on the qui vive to see how the affair would end, for nobody expects to see the course of true love run smooth. In their case, however, the Fates were kind and in due time the happy engagement was announced.
We had an excellent amusement hall, with a fine floor for dancing. The chapel35 was at one end, and a fairly good stage was at the other.
Being nearer civilization now, in the state of Nebraska, Uncle Sam provided us with a chaplain, and a weekly service was held by the Anglican clergyman—a tall, well-formed man, a scholar and, as we say, a gentleman. He wore the uniform of the army chaplain, and as far as looks went could hold his own with any of the younger officers. And it was a great comfort to the church people to have this weekly service.
During the rest of the time, the chapel was concealed36 by heavy curtains, and the seats turned around facing the stage.
We had a good string orchestra of twenty or more pieces, and as there were a number of active young bachelors at the post, a series of weekly dances was inaugurated. Never did I enjoy dancing more than at this time.
Then Mrs. Kautz, who was a thorough music lover and had a cultivated taste as well as a trained and exquisite37 voice, gave several musicales, for which much preparation was made, and which were most
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