During the occupation of the swampy position our rank kept dwindling from almost full companies to mere skeletons. Each roll call added to the sick list until even the medical staff became alarmed. It was reported to the doctors that the men undoubtedly made improper use of the infallible quinine issued by them daily, for even that cure - all failed.

As a last resort they, therefore, determined to return to the primitive remedy, 'Old John Barley Corn,' knowing that but a few soldiers would refused to take the medicine.

At the morning roll call a gill of whiskey was issued to each man. Few indeed failed to swallow the dose there and then; but there were a few - the writer was one - who's appetite was stronger than drink-a-tite. I, therefore, put mine into my canteen and afterwards sold it for 25 cents. This was the only time in my life that I engaged in the saloon business.

Whiskey was a contraband article in the army, as far as the rank and file was concerned, but was obtainable at all times by the officers of any sutler. It often puzzled the unwise to know how the old topers got whiskey, but this was not a secret to the initiated.

Many schemes were resorted to in order to get liquor through the lines. There was a surprising amount of 'patent medicine' sold by the sutlers, and it always gave entire satisfaction. Then there was the genuine old 'Bourbon,' properly labeled and put in the most conspicuous place in the tent. This was sold to the commissioned officers or to the men on the written order of the commanding officer of a company. The soldiers were never in sympathy with the sutler. They regarded him as legitimate prey because of his exorbitant prices. No opportunity to loot his stores was neglected.

On one occasion one of our boys came in with an entire case of cove oysters. Hurried preparations were made for a feast. The water in the great kettle was boiling, when several of the boys began to open the cans with bayonets and knives, the only opener then in use. Larry Mohan, the only Irishman in the company, was the first to discover the deception.

"By the powers it's pfiskey," he cried. "Be dad, yees needn't fear the sutler reporting his loss to the colonel."

Larry's deductions were right, for that worthy never complained.

Then our government ration of whiskey failed because we emerged from the swampy forest to an open field on the upland, and that medicine was no longer considered necessary, there was a sadness in many hearts. Our company had been dubbed 'the Moralities,' and we had earned the title during the first months of our service, but later we fell from grace.

Now when the whiskey failed the old adage, "You never miss the water till the well runs dry," became verified to many, and especially to one moralite, whom we will call Gully. He was taken suddenly sick one morning. It might have taken the doctor some time to make a diagnosis, but not so with Gully. He had suffered with the same disease before and he fully understood it, and knew just what remedy to apply. But, alas, the camp was under 'local option' and the medicine could only be obtained by a doctor's prescription or a written order from his captain.

It was, indeed, wonderful to note the immediate effect of the disease upon the poor sufferer. The straight, agile form of Guffy assumed the shape of a bow in the hands of an archer in an incredible short time. So, with both hands pressing the seat of the disease, he started for the captain's tent.

Were his comrades alarmed? Oh, no. There was no one alarmed. It was an old ailment known to all soldiers as 'arid colic', caused by the dryness of the atmosphere.

"Captain, I'm awful sick," said he.

"Well," replied the captain, "you must go to the doctor."

"But, captain," said he, "the doctor doesn't understand my case and can't do me any good. It is an old disease of mine, and I know just what will cure it."

"Well," said the captain, "they do say that if an old horse gets sick and you turn him loose he will find his own medicine, and I don't know why you should not know as much as a horse. But the doctor is the only man in camp who has the medicine."

Wanted 'Old Bourbon'

"Oh, no he ain't," disputed Gully. "The sutler has the kind of medicine I want. He got it yesterday. Only give me an order and I'll get it and be ready for duty in an hour's time."

Gully got an order for a bottle of 'Old Bourbon.' One dose took all the kinks out of his warped frame, and he lay himself down to rest, placing the precious remedy under his head. After sleeping peacefully for a half hour he was awakened by a return of the pain. He fumbled for the bottle, but, not finding it and with a look of despair on his face, he rushed from the tent.

"Captain," said he as he approached that individual, "have the quarters searched. Somebody has stole my whiskey."

"How long since?" he inquired.

"I don't know, sir. I fell asleep and when I awoke it was gone." he answered.

"Well," said the captain, "how long would a bottle of whiskey last it that crowd?"

"Oh, captain!" exclaimed Gully, "the fellow that stole it will never divide with the rest, they may divide something to eat, but I believe I understand human nature well enough to know that the fellow that steals whiskey wants it all for himself."

"Well, then just wait a while and the guilty party will expose himself," reasoned the captain.

An hour later an orderly appeared at the colonel's tent.

"The compliments of Colonel Walker, sir," said he as he handed the colonel a missive, which read as follows:

"Colonel, one of your men who declares himself able to lick all creation is threatening the peace of the army, and, as orders are strict against bringing on an engagement, you had best send a guard to take charge of him.

"M. B. Walker, Colonel Commanding Thirty-first Ohio"

The captain had reasoned well. The culprit was a member of the moral company.

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