John D. Billings, Hardtack and Coffee: The Unwritten Story of Army Life

And when the draft finally was ordered, such chucklings as these old schoolmates or fellow-townsmen would exchange as they again compared notes; first, to think that they themselves had voluntarily responded to their country's appeal, and, second, to hope that some of the croakers they left at home might be drafted and sent to the front at the point of the bayonet, interchanging sentiments of the following character: “There's A--, he was always urging others to go, and declaring he would himself make one of the next quota.” . . . “Iwant to see him out here with a government suit on.” . .. “Yes, and there's B , who has lots of money. If he's drafted, he'll send a substitute. The government ought not to allow any able-bodied man, even if he has got money, to send a substitute.” . . . “Then there's C-- , who declared he'd die on his doorstep rather than be forced into the service. I only hope that his courage will be put to the test.” --Such are fair samples of the remarks these fellow-soldiers would exchange with one another during an evening visitation.

Then, there were many men not so fortunate as to have enlisted with acquaintances, or to be near them in the army. These were wont to lie on their blankets, and join in the general conversation, or exchange ante-war experiences, and find much of interest in common; but, whatever the number or variety of the evening diversions, there is not the slightest doubt that home, its inmates, and surroundings were more thought of and talked of then than in all the rest of the twenty-four hours.

In some tents vocal or instrumental music was a feature of the evening. There was probably not a regiment in the service that did not boast at least one violinist, one banjoist, and a bone player in its ranks — not to mention other instruments generally found associated with these — and one or all of them could be heard in operation, either inside or in a company street, most any pleasant evening. However unskilful the artists, they were sure to be the centre