Ya know, sewing these britches reminds me of a story. Back in the war, my buddy Crabby and I were quartermasters attached to the 10th Ohio. We had this Lieutenant that was kind of an ass. The Lieutenant left his coat on a wagon and Crabby got the brilliant idea of sewing this guy's coat sleeves closed about halfway down their length.
Crabby just sat on the tail of the wagon sewing away. The Lieutenant even came out several times and asked Crabby some questions. He never figured out what Crabby was doing.
A runner finally came with a request for the lieutenant to go see the Major. The guy runs out of his tent and grabs the coat that Crabby had finished sewing and returned to its place. The Lieutenant tried putting his arm in the first sleeve and couldn’t get it in. He pushed harder and harder until he started spinning in circles with one arm halfway in and the other flailing around.
Finally the idiot lieutenant pushed so hard that he lost his balance and fell into a pile of horse crap. Crabby started laughing so hard he had tears. I started laughing because Crabby was laughing so hard. His laugh was infectious. Other people were laughing as well.
The Lieutenant got up, madder than a wasp’s nest. When he looked around for someone to blame, Crabby just subtly pointed his finger at one of the other guys that were laughing. I think the poor innocent slob got latrine duty for a month.
I think that was Crabby’s best day of the war.
The gentleman pictured in this story is my friend from the farm, Rick Musselman. With only a little embellishment, this story was the actual tale that Rick was telling me while he hemmed the pants for one of the farm hands. Sometimes, real life is better than the story I would have made up. Thank you Rick.