In a freezing cold winter night a senior general officer steps from the train from Washington and walks straight to the tavern. Entering, he brushes snow flakes from his greatcoat and, accidentally, also the dust that speaks of too many hours spent in seemingly never aired office rooms in the capital, listening to government clerks' complaints about the inordinate amount of shot and shell, bullets and shoes the Army of the Shenandoah has consumed in the past two years. "Bureaucrats, what a breed!", the general thinks; "good to be in the field again". Nevertheless, it seems official Washington was not entirely unpleased; as the general places his greatcoat on an empty chair near the bar, a shiny new ribbon becomes visible on the chest of his worn-out uniform coat: the stars of the Outstanding Service Medal a second time right under the three conspicuous (and also rather worn) Medal of Honor ribbons.
But where is everyone? Wasn't there supposed to be some sort of celebration, in honor of the new commander? "Barkeep, there!" the general hollers in a voice that sounds as if it were also covered with all the dust of Washington's offices. "Where are my officers; I mean: General Miller's officers? Anyway, the Army of the Shenandoah?"
"But general, sir, back in the field whipping Rebs, of course, just as they always do. Wouldn't you want it that way?" And he smiles as he places a well-filled glass of Whisky before the general.
"Damn your impudence, old fellow", the general retorts almost automatically. But then, as he realizes that the man is right, a smile comes to his bearded face as well. He downs the whisky, orders another, and thinks, "what a fine time was this, and what a fine army I had the honor to command". Still, what a pity he missed the party.
"Well, I think I can handle a few more drinks, even though the place is a bit wanting in entertainment tonight. This new assignment--what was it about anyway, guns??--can wait until the morrow." [:)]
Gen. Walter, USA
<i>The Blue Blitz</i>
Reserve Artillery, AoS
