Part 3

In June of that year a proposition to establish a summer camp took shape and at a meeting a subscription paper was opened and $200 was pledged in about fifteen minutes. A site was selected on the east bank of the river in South Glastonbury and nearly opposite Two Piers. Volunteers cleared the land of brush, assisted in driving a well, hauled lumber and materials up the steep ascent of 115 feet, aided the carpenters, and helped to furnish and arrange camp. They sought and obtained practical experience in cooking and camp life. It was decided to name the camp after the first commander of the division; and to this day the building is known as Camp Parker. The spot was formally dedicated July 4th with speeches and an open-air dinner, at which the building committee in due and ancient form turned the institution over to the division. The house was equipped with hammocks and many a rooky has there learned how to pass a sailor’s night. Many a pleasant Sunday afternoon in midsummer has lured men of the division to the cool piazza with its noble view for many miles in three directions, south, west and north.

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COURSE SEVEN ❦ THE PANTHER

In some respects the yearly cruise which started several weeks later was among the most memorable adventures of the division; and when some of the old hands are spinning yarns about what they did when they were young, they like to hark back to the “sham war” and a certain hike across Montauk Point. The most extensive land and sea maneuvers in many years were arranged in Washington for a force of several thousand of the army and for practically all of the fine North Atlantic squadron of that year, of which Admiral Higginson, the captain of the Massachusetts in the Spanish war, was in command.

It was on the auxiliary cruiser Panther that the battalion served. The division boarded the ship in New London harbor. In the course of the service the Panther steamed as far east as Menemsha Bight and as far west as New London, the object of the maneuvers being to test in a practical way the defenses of the eastern entrance of Long Island Sound. At sundown of a Saturday the most powerful fleet to that time assembled in those waters was riding to anchor in the bight, awaiting the passage of the hours before midnight ’ere beginning maneuvers against the string of forts and signal stations scattered all the way from Woods Hole around to Montauk. As night shut down, the signal lamps began their Ardois work. At midnight hoarse orders came from the Panther’s bridge and the rattle of the steam winch and the heavy clank of the cable in the hawse pipe announced that the ship was getting under way.

Sunday found the ship off Block Island and Monday evening found her heading north. Just as the watch off duty was beginning to snore peacefully, the bugle sounded the call for general quarters. In a moment the gun deck lights were switched on and ladders and hatches were choked with men piling to their stations. Masters-at-arms were unceremoniously rousting out rookies from their hammocks. In barely more time that it has taken to write this paragraph the guns were cast loose, ammunition was provided and the big naval bulldog was in fighting trim.

One afternoon the battalion had boat drill. Cutters were lowered and with boat guns working and the landing party armed with rifles there was a pretty bit of excitement. A day later the heavy guns belched at a signal station ashore, which crumbled to theoretic dust. Then the naval militiamen were mustered at division quarters and a day’s ration was issued to each man, a two-pound tin of canned beef to each pair of men and five or ten hard tack (or ship biscuit) to each man and a canteen full of water or coffee, as the man elected. The call came for arm and away boats. With a Colt automatic in the bow of each cutter the party landed, going into extended order, while a detail took possession of the telegraph and the telephone station.

The long line of blue swarmed over a strip of sand and a bit of swale to a knoll. Then began two hours’ hard work. Through wire grass and sand grass, through bushes and brush, across swamp and swale, by farmhouses and barns, alongside lily ponds, the bending blue line advanced, officers pointing the way with swords and squad leaders attempting to keep the files at eight pace intervals.

Following an advance of four miles in such manner the “enemy” was located behind the crest of a steep and high hill. The order for a charge was given and with a yell the men sprinted forward under a heavy shower of fireworks. Ensign Northam was the first up San Juan Hill and it was reported that the historian was the last to reach the summit.

At this juncture the heavens opened and rain came down in buckets. After a quarter of an hour in the downpour the battalion started on the return of four miles. The hike was at route step. At the beach the oarsmen had a stiff pull against wind and tide in boats loaded to the gunwales. But the young salts were in fine spirits and when the order came to “shift to anything dry” it was received as a joke.

The chief boatswain’s mate of the Panther was C. K. Claussen, the Claussen who accompanied Hobson on the Merrimac and was confined in the Spanish prison near Santiago.

At the end of the week, when the Panther left the squadron, her course lay between the Olympia, Dewey’s flagship in the Battle of Manila Bay, and the Brooklyn, Schley’s in the capture of Cervera. To each was given a salute with the bugle and the lining of the rail. The Brooklyn’s band rendered a patriotic air.

In the following fall the division took up target practice in real earnest and at a special shoot in the South Meadow Chief Gunner’s Mate Herbert E. Wiley won the first place. Barely was this function over when it was decided to produce a comic opera and “The Mikado” was selected. This was presented in Parsons’, so well that critics agreed that the division could sing as correctly as it could sail.

In the winter the division tried its fortune again at indoor baseball, with varying results. On one occasion it played an exciting game with Company A, won the game, lost it and won it again, just clearing a lee shore by a score of 19 to 18. On another it defeated the champions of the armory in an eleven-inning contest.

The second annual indoor meet demonstrated that the series had arrived to stay, a fact which each February proves again.

To extend its activities the division sent a picked gun crew on an inland cruise to New Britain to give an exhibition drill.

The field day was spent at Charles Island. To still further extend its activities the division crossed afoot from the island at low tide to the mainland.

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COURSE EIGHT ❦ AT NIANTIC

Amphibious is the word to apply to the division’s tour of duty that summer. The steam whaleboat, by this time christened “Tillie Hadley,” by her fireman, Gunner’s Mate Arnold, started down the river August 21, 1903, with the three pulling boats in tow, carrying nearly a quarter of the division. The following day the remainder boarded the Elfrida in New Haven harbor, and she with the First Division’s small boats in tow steamed to Crescent Bay. A detail from each division spent eight days afloat and the rest divided their time between Camp Reynolds at the state military rendezvous at Niantic and boat drills in Crescent Bay. The boat work was popular, so much so that in a few days most of the oarsmen were approaching man-o’-war form.

At the end of the duty a storm came along which gave work to militia, the seafaring population and landlubbers. In the New York _Herald_ of the next day it was printed: “Old seafaring men down that way say that they never saw the Sound rougher than it was that night.” A sailboat was washed ashore at White Beach, two small sailing vessels dragged anchor near Niantic, a sloop was wrecked to the southwest of the Crescent Beach landing and a large three-masted schooner dragged anchor.

The Elfrida steamed out of the bay as the storm was breaking, on her way to Sandy Hook and the yacht races with Governor Chamberlain on board. The sou’wester rose into a gale. Seas broke high over the weather rail to fly across the engine room skylight. The officers on the bridge and the quartermaster on watch were soon soaked to the skin in spite of oilskins and pea coats. It was a fierce night and the brave little ship had a nervy tussle with the gale. At 3 o’clock in the morning the Elfrida put into Huntington Bay and dropped anchor, finding that five large steamers were there riding out the night, among them the Tremont of the Joy Line, and the Shinnecock. Stormbound sailing craft were also in the bay.

Soon after the hook went down it was found to be dragging, then the ship was taken farther inshore and both starboard and port anchors were let drop, with a good length of cable.

Later a distress sign was sighted on a yacht out in the open water. A volunteer boat crew pulled out and found the vessel to be the schooner Rosina, from New Haven, owned by an amateur who had a sailing master, three women and a cook on board. The owner seasick, the sailing master called the cook for a moment to the wheel, while he stepped down into the cabin for a chart. The cook lost his head and, while in the wind, the schooner’s main-topmast snapped and her fore-topsail carried away. The rescuing boat crew found the women hysterical and with life preservers adjusted. The men from the Elfrida cleared away the wreckage.

Early in the fall the division entertained members of H Company, Naval Brigade, M. V. M., of Springfield, at Camp Parker with an old-time shore clambake. The camp had become increasingly popular and for a number of years nearly every Saturday or Sunday afternoon in midsummer attracted division men to the place, and in “whites” the boys kept busy making things snug in the galley or policing the grounds or taking a spin in a pulling boat below.

November 18 brought an extraordinary spectacle—a book bee. At our bell in the first watch, Librarian Palmer and Jack-o’-the-Shelf McDonald broke out their accessioning system and the smoking lamp was lighted. The books given made a startling list. Tolstoy’s “Resurrection” was found sandwiched between “Alice in Wonderland” and a volume of Lighthouse Reports. General Miles, Kipling, Morgan Robertson and Roosevelt were popular authors. This is history, not romance. An entertainment followed the book bee. Clog dancing on the foc’s’le head, nautical songs, selections on cordage and dead eyes by a banjo quintet and a sword dance by Coxswain Watson made up the backbone of the evening. It was seven bells when the rejoicing ceased and the merrymakers heaved out of the armory, all on soundings and under easy canvas, except the supposed contributor of “Resurrection,” who scudded away under a double-reefed fore-topsail.

The indoor meet of the next February sustained the division’s reputation. By this time the annual mid-winter tourney had become known all over Connecticut. The referees in the series have included such gentlemen as President Luther of Trinity College and Former Lieutenant-Governor Lake.

A month later the division was entertained by H Company of Springfield in the Highland Hotel in that city, where the company was observing its eleventh anniversary.

In June (June 19, 1904) the Elfrida came over Saybrook Bar with Lieutenant Lyman Root in command. She was navigated up the river by members of the division and came to anchor opposite the foot of Ferry Street. Three days later, a brilliant reception was given on board her to Governor Chamberlain. She was dressed fore and aft and from water’s edge to water’s edge. In the illumination 248 Japanese lanterns were included. Many military officers were present in full dress uniform.

The following morning the division paraded to the foot of Ferry Street, embarking and escorting the governor and Former Governor Morgan G. Bulkeley, an honorary member of the division, to East Haddam, there to attend the dedication of a monument to Major-General Joseph Spencer of Revolutionary War fame.

Three days later a hard-working and loyal graduate of the division, Ensign William G. Hinckley, assistant engineer, received his commission as lieutenant and chief engineer. Efficient, loyal and popular, Mr. Hinckley received numerous congratulations of his well-earned promotion.

The range of the division’s energy is proved when it is chronicled that July 27, the clubhouse committee carried out a moonlight sail down the river. It was considerately promulgated in the committee’s circular: “State exact number of ladies you intend bringing. Chaperons will be in attendance.”

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COURSE NINE ❦ THE HARTFORD

The yearly cruise of 1904 was on Farragut langsyne flagship, the Hartford, relic of the battle of Mobile Bay. It was as interesting as any which the division has ever taken, barring, perhaps, that on the Panther. When station billets were issued even the old hands volleyed questions at their running mates of the regular crew. Here is the start of a typical station billet:

Form No. 10.—Bur. Navigation.

Watch No. 126 U. S. S. Hartford. Name, Rate, Cox. Div. 2d. Gun, No. 8, 5–inch. Armed boat, 3d cutter. Running boat, 3d cutter. Abandon ship, 3d cutter. Fire quarters, close ports, No. 8 5–inch gun.

That was easy enough, even for a rooky. But what do you know about this?

EVOLUTION.

Loosing sail. Furling sail. Up and down topgallant and royal yards. Up and down topgallant masts. Making sail and getting underway. Tacking and wearing. Reef topsails. Shorten sail and come to anchor.

STATIONS AND DUTIES.

Loose topgallant sail. Furl topgallant sail. Topmast crosstrees to rig upper topgallant yardarm, etc. Topmast crosstrees, reeve and unreeve mast rope, fid and unfid, etc. Loose topgallant sail, then on deck to halliards. Overhaul foresheet and shorten in, man maintop bowlines, main and fore tacks. Man topsail bunt lines, then halliards. Let go topgallant halliards, man topsail clew lines, veer and stopper cables.

It was a novelty to nearly all of the division, bringing back the old days of heave and haul. The regulars were husky men with legs like barrels and arms like blacksmiths’, nearly every one raw material for a football player or anchor of a tug-of-war team. Bosn’s mates were weather-beaten salts with faces like teakwood, seamed by the suns and snows of the seven seas, tanned tar-mequicks with chests like hair mattresses. One barnacle in the port watch had a voice as rasping as a nutmeg grater. You might have imagined that he was born in Lat. 2, North, Long. 2, West, and that he learned to creep on the lee side of the foc’s’le. When he shrilled out a pipe with a chaser like the growl of distant thunder a nippous rooky from the Tenth Ward asked in blank amazement:

“What in heaven did that fellow say?”

“One man from each part of the ship coal the first steamer,” was the reply.

Some of the best boat work which the division has ever done was performed on this cruise. This is true not only in the line of oarsmanship, but also in the securing of boats for sea and for port.

The duty took the division up Sound to Huntington Bay, then east to Gardiner’s Bay, thence over to New London and finally back to New Haven harbor. The men had a welcome convenience in the line of large lockers. They took much interest in the apprentices, frolicsome little fellows then from the training station who had school each morning at a mess table on the starboard side of the gun deck near a frowning five-inch gun with its glittering brass and its oiled steel.

The boys were poring over their books and papers in very much the same way that lads in the seventh and eighth grades in the Second North or the West Middle schools are poring (perhaps more so), over arithmetic. In the instruction of the class the chaplain was using some of the books which citizens of Hartford gave to the ship’s library in 1899 at the suggestion of Admiral Bunce.

Most important among the events of the early part of the ensuing drill season was the election of Lieutenant Lyman Root to be navigator of the battalion to succeed Lieutenant Robert E. L. Hutchinson, promoted to be lieutenant-commander and in turn succeeding Lieutenant-Commander Frank S. Cornwell, promoted to be commander of the battalion, _vice_ Commander Averill, retired. In his capacity as chief of the division, Mr. Root had shown exceptional versatility, having been successful in the social and athletic lines, as well as in drill and discipline. At the next drill evening he took formal farewell of the division which he had so long and so ably and so considerately commanded, giving generously of his best energy and most faithful loyalty. He had taken the helm when the command was little better than a wreck, had nursed it back to health and prosperity and made it the finest military company in all Hartford. In fair weather and foul weather, in joy and sorrow, on soundings and off soundings, his steadying hand had been at the wheel and had time and again brought the division safe into port. Strong and clear purpose, affection for the command and for salt water,—these were our chief’s dominant traits. The ability to read character was another quality. But of these three characteristics his affection for the division stood ever foremost.

Captain Howard J. Bloomer came over from the infantry to act as next lieutenant of the division, not the least of the prerogatives being the privilege of presiding as toastmaster at the yearly banquet. On the menu card was a huitrain re-rigged from Coxswain John Kendrick Bangs so as to read:

Oh, Navy Plug, Ottoman, Alonzo, Puritan Boy, Especial, H. Clay, Invincible, Rosedale, Alphonso, Soby’s Best, German Lovers, El Rey, Elegantes, Re-ina, Selectos, Oh, Two-For, Madura, Grandé, Shoe Pegs, Oscuro, Perfectos— You drive all my sorrows away.

A floral bell nearly as large as the foretop was lifted and revealed an elegant silver loving cup presented to Mr. Root as testimony to their high esteem. A little later followed the elevation of Mr. Root to the rank of lieutenant-commander of the battalion.

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COURSE TEN ❦ THE COLUMBIA

Sail drill was the feature of the cruise on the Hartford in 1904 and in the following year drill in small boats was the feature. On the training ship the boats usually hung outside the rail, but on the cruiser the boats were frequently kept inside the rail. With the ship’s four funnels and her multitudinous skylights and deckhouses her superstructure was unsuitable for “setting up.”

A series of tug-of-war pulls enlivened the trip. The New Haven division won from Bridgeport and Hartford from New Haven. Thus it was for the Hartford team to pull the ship’s team. This contest came and to the astonishment of all, the Hartford men won. And so it was that when the division returned half of the lads were hoarse.

Bugler L. Wayne Adams was in high feather during the trip. He had memorized the calls and sounded them accurately. By virtue of his high office he was excused from previous service as messman; for much of the cruise he was a man of elegant leisure. On his return to Wethersfield, residents of Jordan Lane and the Nail Keg Club at Hanmer’s grocery heard many a fine yarn, spun in Wayne’s best style.

The old rifle range in the South Meadow was discontinued, owing to the increased range and power of the rifles just introduced into the Connecticut National Guard. In consequence the division’s fall target practice was conducted over the range in South Manchester. Acting as a marker, Landsman Hill was hit by a deflected bullet, which was found later in his shoe. Hill was taken to the Hartford Hospital.

Following the indoor meet, given successfully, of course, the division began to prepare to celebrate its tenth anniversary. The banquet was held in the Hartford Club. In the blue uniform the men of the division attending mustered for entry into the dining room, to the strains of a march. A dismounted signal gun of old-time size from the Dauntless rested at the center of the head table, flanked by two silver cups, trophies won by athletic teams from the division. Knife bayonets of the new kind rested on the cups. Two stacks of rifles afforded resting-place for the division’s colors.

The menu cards contained the following:

“_Such a deal of skimble, skamble stuff As puts me from my faith._”

HENRY IV.

“_A page where men May read strange matters._”

MACBETH.

X Home Port Routine X Call All Hands

Heave Anchor to Short Stay Serve Grog Stand by for a Blow Up and Down Port Marine Growth Bleached Starboard Hot Suds Served Forward on Turtle Deck Bony Walks the Plank to the Wake Dutch Sea Apples Sliced Irish Torpedoes Cascarets “Damn the Torpedoes! Go Ahead” Sea Cow off Madeira Spud Chippies Burnside Bullets

[Sidenote: Bumboat Along Side, Sir]

Lyman Root Punch

Fruit Scouse Vesuvius Ice “Up all——”

Pass to Leeward Roquefort and Club Black Jack

“Divine in hookas, glorious in pipe. When tipped in amber, mellow, rich, and ripe Like other charmers, wooing the caress Most dazzlingly when daring In full dress, Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties—Give me a cigar!”

Boatswain’s Mate BYRON, “The Island,” II.

Two hours were passed “Off Yarnland.” Governor Roberts brought the division men to their feet when he told them that he intended to order out the battalion when the presentation took place of the silver service voted by the General Assembly for the new battleship Connecticut. Senator Bulkeley told the familiar and always stirring story of Admiral Bunce’s splendid work in taking a monitor around Cape Horn.

In the early spring Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Robert D. Chapin succeeded to the command of the division. In the nine years he had been in the division he had ascended the ladder, round by round, as seaman, coxswain, gunner’s mate, second and first class, and boatswain’s mate, first class. He had served on about every brand of standing committee which the organization had utilized. Later he was appointed naval aide with the rank of lieutenant-commander.

Again in the early summer a racing crew was essayed, with Boatswain’s Mate Hogan in charge of the training, the course extending from an imaginary line off the old pumping station below Riverside Park to a point off the East Hartford bank about a quarter of a mile above the railroad bridge. Training was punctuated by swims and dives from a spring plank in the meadow bank a short distance from the bridge.

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COURSE ELEVEN ❦ THE MINNEAPOLIS