ion at the
depot. At Oakland they remained all night of the 30th and the following
morning they marched to Camp Merritt, from which place they were removed
to the Presidio two days later.

Late in June Lieutenant Wedgewood was taken ill with typhoid fever but
remained with the men until July 6th, when he was taken to the Lane
hospital and Lieutenant Diss of the California Heavy Artillery was
placed temporarily in charge of the recruits. Orders were for the Utah
contingent to sail on the transport "Rio de Janeiro," and as the South
Dakota Infantry was the only organization on the vessel Lieutenant
Foster of that regiment was given command of the men.

The voyage was uneventful save that the soldiers were ill-treated by
Lieutenant Foster, who succeeded in gaining for himself the eternal
hatred of the men under his charge. As the recruits were then
unacquainted with military practices, many expressions of disgust being
made in an unguarded way, reached the ears of the worthy Lieutenant, who
heaped still greater indignities upon the men by way of retaliation.

At Honolulu W.A. Kinney, the large plantation owner, entertained the
Utahns during their brief stay in that city.

The "Rio de Janeiro" arrived in Manila Bay on the 24th of August, but it
was four days later before the recruits set foot on the soil of Luzon
and made their phenomenal march up the streets of Manila to Plaza de
Felipe II, where they greeted their comrades.

Lieutenant Wedgewood, having recovered from his fever, arrived October
4th on the "Scandia," which left San Francisco on August 27th.

During the long dreary days following the arrival of the recruits their
life was not entirely joyous. From sunrise to sunset they were forced to
listen to the blood-curdling tales which their companions told of the
late conflict with the "Dons." At first they hearkened to them with
respectful attention. They never doubted the truth of these glowing
fairy stories. They revered these self-lauding heroes as a species of
immortal beings. In return for this tributary deference they were
treated with contempt. The veteran called them "rookies," and whenever
one of them attempted to soar he was promptly and sternly reminded of
his inferiority and kindly invited to get off the pedestal upon which he
had so unwittingly placed himself while one of his superiors proceeded
to relate a harrowing tale of blood and thunder and rain down in the
trenches. Every bit of rainy weath