The days that followed were red lettered in the calendar of life.
And then it came--a crash of thunder out of the clear sky--the thing he
had somehow felt and dreaded.
A petty court-martial was called to adjust a question of army
discipline. The court was composed of Z. Taylor, Colonel Commanding,
Major Thomas F. Smith, a fiery-tempered gay officer of the old army,
Lieutenant Jefferson Davis, and the new Second Lieutenant who had just
arrived from the Jefferson Barracks at St. Louis.
The army regulations required that each officer sitting in court-martial
should be in full uniform. The new arrival from St. Louis had come
without his uniform. His trunk had miscarried and was returned to the
Jefferson Barracks.
He rose with embarrassment:
"I must beg the pardon of the Court, Colonel," he began cautiously, "for
not appearing in my uniform. As it is in St. Louis I respectfully ask to
be excused to-day from wearing it."
The old Colonel scowled. It was just like a young fool to wish to sit in
solemn judgment on a fellow officer--in his shirt sleeves. If he had
asked to be excused from serving on the Court--yes--he could accept his
excuse and let him go. But this insolence was unbearable. The Colonel
glanced over the Court before putting the question to a vote.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74