Recollections of the Fifers' and Drummers' Duties

Here is another quote taken from Drum Taps in Dixie: Memories of a Drummer Boy, 1861-1865 (published in 1905), by Delavan S. Miller, from pages 20-22.

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.

They were the early risers of the camps, too, for at daybreak the fifers and drummers of a regiment would all assemble and sound the reveille, which was several minutes exercise of the most vigorous kind.

The following verses on the reveille were written by a soldier, Michael O'Connor, a sergeant in the 140th New York, and have been pronounced by competent critics as among the "finest lyric lines in the language."

SONG OF THE DRUMS.
"The morning is cheery, my boys, arouse!
The dew shines bright on the chestnut boughs,
And the sleepy mist on the river lies,
Though the east is flushed with crimson dyes.
Awake! Awake! Awake!
O'er field and wood and brake,
With glories newly born,
Comes on the blushing morn,
Awake! Awake!" 

"You have dreamed of your homes and friends all night,
You have basked in your sweetheart's smiles so bright;
Come part with them all for a while again—
Be lovers in dreams; when awake be men.
Turnout! Turnout! Turnout!
The east is all aglow,
Turn out! Turn out!" 

"From every valley and hill there come
The clamoring voices of fife and drum;
And out in the fresh, cool morning air
The soldiers are swarming everywhere.
Fall in! Fall in! Fall in!
Every man in his place.
Fall in! Fall in! Fall in!
Each with a cheerful face.
Fall in! Fall in!"

The next duty of the fifers and drummers was to sound the sick call. The boys made up some appropriate verses which I cannot recall except one line:

"Come and get your quinine, quinine, quinine."

The drummers were active participants in the guard mounting exercises which took place about 9 o'clock in the morning, and usually there was from one to two hours' practice among the musicians in the forenoon, which was repeated in the afternoon unless there was a battalion drill, in which case they took part in the maneuvers of the troops.

Their next duty was at dress parade, where they took a prominent part in what is the most pleasing and spectacular affair of the day.

At 9 o'clock they assemble again and beat the tattoo for the evening roll call, and fifteen minutes later taps are sounded and the day's duties are ended.

In a camp there were always some heavy sleepers and it was the business of the drummers in beating the morning reveille to make noise enough to awake them. Many a time have I seen a fellow rush out of his tent attired in nothing but shirt, drawers and cap and take his place in the ranks hardly in time to answer "here" when his name was called.

The observation he makes at the beginning is one that I have thought on before when some people assume that historic fifers and drummers were bad or amateur musicians. They were professionals! They did this everyday and practiced more than any of us have time to practice. And as you can see, they were also creative.

-Peter B.

 Memor!

Christmas Parade and Tree-Lighting in Elizabeth

Here are some pictures from last Saturday (8th) at the Elizabeth Christmas Parade and Tree-Lighting.

See the Android man? 

 

Afterwards we ate dinner and then John and I had great fun playing for another hour or so on Main Street. 

-Peter B.

 Memor!

The Fife and Drum of the Old Days

The following quote is taken from Drum Taps in Dixie: Memories of a Drummer Boy, 1861-1865 (published in 1905) pages 23-24.

Fife and drum have been heard in every camp and upon all of the battlefields of the world. And for a marching column there is nothing like martial music of the good old-fashioned kind, such as inspired the continental heroes at Lexington, Yorktown and Bunker Hill, and rallied the boys of '61, and later led them in all the marches through the South.

Martial music seems to have gone out of fashion in these up-to-date days, and what little there is, is but a poor apology, with the bugle blasts interjected between the rub-a-dub-dubs of the drummers who hardly know their a b c's about snare drumming.

I have heard but one good drum corps since the war, and that was at the G. A. R. gathering at Buffalo a few years ago. An old time drum corps, who styled themselves the "Continentals" were present. It was composed of veterans over 70 years of age, and, say, they could double discount any other organization present.

Many of the crack brass bands of the country were there, but they were not in it with the old martial band. Their music—mind the expression, "music"—caught on with all the swell people of the city who thronged the camp waiting for an opportunity to hear them, and the veterans went wild as they heard again the reveille and tattoo and the old familiar strains of "Yankee Doodle," "The Girl I Left Behind Me," "Rory O'More," "The Campbells Are Coming," "Hail to the Chief," and many other reminders of the old days.