WARREN LETTER: FORT LIFE, FORT FETTERMAN

" ..... Sojer'n purt near is the mos' lazee fair an borin sport a man 

can take up. Folks waggle bout all the fightin an killin  .. fact tis 

sojerin is mostly doin a lot a walkin and a lot more layin about. 

Time were spent beeved up an when this was the lay of things,

 the days was spent with mornins spent doin sojer things such 

as marchin an calls for thems that was sick and thems that was present. 

Now and again they was some squamp as a constable or provost would come by an spirit 

one of the fellars of to Loosianer to face the law overn somethin afore the war sech 

as fer stealin a nag, chivying some shill or cut pursin some rich fellar alongst the 

traces to N'leans. They was a spell of that in the early days as they was some 

rascals amongst us thatd earned they keep the natchez under the hill style.

Victuals was always seeked and fellars was always on the leap for whatever 

could be had. They was much cravin of spirits an seemed no matter how mean 

livin got they was always busthead about. Vice an sin often held court amongst

 the Tiger Rifles and they was much troubles cause of the intemperant nature of 

the tribe. This fer the most part was paid no mind by the Officers 

as they kin that we was a rough an tumble sort common to Loosianer an 

many was the blind eye amongst the Officers .  They was a share a 

set to's an humbugs.  Most of em was a disputes after bein in the cups

 an went from 'jes cuz' .. the Tiger Mottif for a set to .. to more 

complex such as petty theivin  disputin over wagerin or spirits or 

cuz a fellar was jes plumb ugly. The triber squabbled of'n an they was 

many set to's with lots of colorful swamp talk .. sech as ' Im half gator, 

half mule .. all tiger and raw ... back up you bastards Im fixin to cut loose" 

an some worst with much blood chilin waggle. Soons the fist would go and 

theyd be a tussle in the dust. Soon as they was tired they'd forgit and be

 hangin on eachother braying like jackasses and swillin busthead outn a 

lovin cup.   Manys an eve when they'd be a couple of the fellars that'd 

been in they cups an soon nuff they'd whsiper amongst themselves an with 

cackles would suddenly bolt up an start strollin. Asked whar they was 

off to they'd grin like devils and say they was off on the crawl. 

Soon they'd be some roarin down the line an runners sent to tow in 

 these that had stirred a row. Crawlin the line an lookin for a row or

 a swill lost its shine after they was several of the fellars shot up 

at Camp Florida for bashin ol'  Hayes durin a round of fisticuffs with some

 curs in the 8th Loosianer.Side from this, they was much wagerin and gamin 

about. Fellars would wager on who could jump the highest, spit the futhest 

(as they was always baccy about) or who could spit an hit a palmetter 

bug or the like, run the futhest, fight the hardest. They was games of 

roundies, throwin bones, skat an buckin the tiger. A treat was a round 

of "hands"  which was always ripe with chivvy.   Those thems that wagered 

on it never'd learn an they'd play with a fever. They was the occasional 

fete with dancin and singin.