I GET ON THE RETIRED LIST.
Until recently I have been quite a popular commander of Sunday church parties. The boys would get up their parties and get me a pass to take them into town to church. I would take them in and, halting on some convenient corner, would deliver myself of a little speech. I would say, “Boys, I have always believed in the largest tolerance in matters of religion and politics, and as much as I should like to have you attend church with me, if you have any preferences you are at liberty to enjoy them; far be it from me to impose my authority on your feelings or conscience. I shall expert you on the corner at the appointed time that we may report back in camp in season for dress parade." Now, if they couldn't have had a tolerably good time under those conditions, it certainly was no fault of mine. But this, like every other good thing, could not always last. One Sunday afternoon, when we gathered on the corner, one of the party failed to put in an appearance. After waiting beyond a reasonable time, he was defaulted and we returned to camp. About night' he came in, showing unmistakable signs of having been on the hardest kind of fatigue duty. Instead of going to his quarters as he was told to, he thought it was his duty to interview the captain. That interview resulted in a court martial, before which I was ordered to appear. I was asked numerous questions, all of which I answered to the best of my knowledge and belief, and my evidence not only convicted the prisoner but reflected somewhat on myself, for in summing it up, they somehow fixed it up in such a way as to make it appear that I was in the practice of taking parties into town on Sundays, ostensibly to church and then letting them go wherever they pleased, and inquired of me if that was not about the true solution of the problem. Wishing to avoid controversy, I assented. I was then told that I could retire from that august presence, a privilege of which I availed myself immediately, but what I noticed as being rather singular, after that little interview I was in command of no more Sunday parties.
SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass.
Volunteer Infantry, p. 66
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