The change called for fifers and drummers instead of buglers, and the Jefferson county boy was the first drummer the regiment had, his drum being a present from the officers at Fort Worth.
A full regimental drum corps was soon organized, and right here it may be proper to say that an old army drum corps in the sixties could make music. A boy would not “pass muster” in those days unless he could do the double and single drag with variations, execute the “long roll,” imitate the rattle of musketry, besides various other accomplishments with the sticks. And when a dozen or more of the lads, with their caps set saucily on the sides of their heads, led a regiment in a review with their get-out-of-the-way-Old-Dan-Tuckerish style of music, it made the men in the ranks step off as though they were bound for a Donnybrook fair or some other pleasure excursion.
It is with feelings of real tenderness that I write of my first drum. It was none of the common sort such as furnished by Uncle Sam, but was the best that money could buy, and was a gift from the officers at Fort Worth in the spring of 1862. A requisition for instruments was a long time in being filled, owing to the vast amount of red tape in use, so the officers at our fort presented me with a drum.
How well I remember the day when I accompanied Capt. Joslin to Washington, and he, taking me into a large music store on Pennsylvania avenue, ordered the clerk to let me have the best drum in the store.
How anxious I was to get back to our camp in Virginia so I could test it, and how my heart went pit-a-pat, as, alone, I marched with my new drum down the line at dress parade the next day. Several months later my precious drum was put out of action by a piece of a rebel shell at Bull Run and was among the trophies gathered up by the confederates in the stampede that followed.
Its loss I regretted exceedingly, for its equal in tone and other good qualities I never tapped the sticks to again. It was a beauty, too; and was my first drum.
It is hardly to be wondered at that the drummer boys of the 60s got to be very proficient in the handling of the sticks, for when in camp they were having practice from early morn until late at night, and many a time they had to get out in the night and beat the “long roll” for ten or fifteen minutes.