Vanished Arizona | Page 6

captain of the North German Lloyd S. S.
"Donau," and after a most terrific cyclone in mid-ocean, in which we
nearly foundered, I landed in Hoboken, sixteen days from Bremen.
My brother, Harry Dunham, met me on the pier, saying, as he took me
in his arms, "You do not need to tell me what sort of a trip you have
had; it is enough to look at the ship--that tells the story."
As the vessel had been about given up for lost, her arrival was
somewhat of an agreeable surprise to all our friends, and to none more
so than my old friend Jack, a second lieutenant of the United States
army, who seemed so glad to have me back in America, that I
concluded the only thing to do was to join the army myself.
A quiet wedding in the country soon followed my decision, and we set
out early in April of the year 1874 to join his regiment, which was
stationed at Fort Russell, Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory.
I had never been west of New York, and Cheyenne seemed to me, in
contrast with the finished civilization of Europe, which I had so
recently left, the wildest sort of a place.
Arriving in the morning, and alighting from the train, two gallant
officers, in the uniform of the United States infantry, approached and
gave us welcome; and to me, the bride, a special "welcome to the
regiment" was given by each of them with outstretched hands.
Major Wilhelm said, "The ambulance is right here; you must come to
our house and stay until you get your quarters."

Such was my introduction to the army--and to the army ambulance, in
which I was destined to travel so many miles.
Four lively mules and a soldier driver brought us soon to the post, and
Mrs. Wilhelm welcomed us to her pleasant and comfortable-looking
quarters.
I had never seen an army post in America. I had always lived in places
which needed no garrison, and the army, except in Germany, was an
unknown quantity to me.
Fort Russell was a large post, and the garrison consisted of many
companies of cavalry and infantry. It was all new and strange to me.
Soon after luncheon, Jack said to Major Wilhelm, "Well, now, I must
go and look for quarters: what's the prospect?"
"You will have to turn some one out," said the Major, as they left the
house together.
About an hour afterwards they returned, and Jack said, "Well, I have
turned out Lynch; but," he added, "as his wife and child are away, I do
not believe he'll care very much."
"Oh," said I, "I'm so sorry to have to turn anybody out!"
The Major and his wife smiled, and the former remarked, "You must
not have too much sympathy: it's the custom of the service--it's always
done--by virtue of rank. They'll hate you for doing it, but if you don't
do it they'll not respect you. After you've been turned out once yourself,
you will not mind turning others out."
The following morning I drove over to Cheyenne with Mrs. Wilhelm,
and as I passed Lieutenant Lynch's quarters and saw soldiers removing
Mrs. Lynch's lares and penates, in the shape of a sewing machine,
lamp-shades, and other home-like things, I turned away in pity that
such customs could exist in our service.

To me, who had lived my life in the house in which I was born, moving
was a thing to be dreaded.
But Mrs. Wilhelm comforted me, and assured me it was not such a
serious matter after all. Army women were accustomed to it, she said.

CHAPTER III
ARMY HOUSE-KEEPING
Not knowing before I left home just what was needed for
house-keeping in the army, and being able to gather only vague ideas
on the subject from Jack, who declared that his quarters were furnished
admirably, I had taken out with me but few articles in addition to the
silver and linen-chests.
I began to have serious doubts on the subject of my menage, after
inspecting the bachelor furnishings which had seemed so ample to my
husband. But there was so much to be seen in the way of guard mount,
cavalry drill, and various military functions, besides the drives to town
and the concerts of the string orchestra, that I had little time to think of
the practical side of life.
Added to this, we were enjoying the delightful hospitality of the
Wilhelms, and the Major insisted upon making me acquainted with the
"real old-fashioned army toddy" several times a day,--a new beverage
to me, brought up in a blue-ribbon community, where wine-bibbing and
whiskey drinking were rated as belonging to only the lowest classes. To
be sure, my father always drank two fingers of fine