Then another night under the stars, and so passed the time away.
We lived, ate, slept by the bugle calls.

Reveille means sunrise, when a Lieutenant must hasten to put himself into uniform, sword and belt, and go out to receive the report of the company or companies of soldiers, who stand drawn up in line on the parade ground.
At about nine o'clock in the morning comes the guard-mount, a function always which everybody goes out to see.

Then the various drill calls, and recalls, and sick-call and the beautiful stable-call for the cavalry, when the horses are groomed and watered, the thrilling fire-call and the startling assembly, or call-to-arms, when every soldier jumps for his rifle and every officer buckles on his sword, and a woman's heart stands still.
Then at night, "tattoo," when the company officers go out to receive the report of "all present and accounted for"-- and shortly after that, the mournful "taps," a signal for the barrack lights to be put out.
The bugle call of "taps" is mournful also through association, as it is always blown over the grave of a soldier or an officer, after the coffin has been lowered into the earth.

The soldier-musicians who blow the calls, seem to love the call of "taps," (strangely enough) and I remember well that there at Camp MacDowell, we all used to go out and listen when "taps went," as the soldier who blew it, seemed to put a whole world of sorrow into it, turning to the four points of the compass and letting its clear tones tremble through the air, away off across the Maricopa desert and then toward the East, our home so faraway.

We never spoke, we just listened, and who can tell the thoughts that each one had in his mind?
Church nor ministers nor priests had we there in those distant lands, but can we say that our lives were wholly without religion?
The Sunday inspection of men and barracks, which was performed with much precision and formality, and often in full dress uniform, gave us something by which we could mark the weeks, as they slipped along.