COOKING AND EATING.
Rations in the Army of Northern Virginia were alternately superabundant
and altogether wanting. The quality, quantity, and frequency of them
depended upon the amount of stores in the hands of the commissaries, the
relative position of the troops and the wagon trains, and the many
accidents and mishaps of the campaign. During the latter years and
months of the war, so uncertain was the issue as to time, quantity, and
composition, that the men became in large measure independent of this
seeming absolute necessity, and by some mysterious means, known only to
purely patriotic soldiers, learned to fight without pay and to find
subsistence in the field, the stream, or the forest, and a shelter on
the bleak mountain side.
Sometimes there was an abundant issue of bread, and no meat; then meat
in any quantity, and no flour or meal; sugar in abundance, and no coffee
to be had for "love or money;" and then coffee in plenty, without a
grain of sugar; for months nothing but flour for bread, and then
nothing but meal (till all hands longed for a biscuit); or fresh meat
until it was nauseating, and then salt-pork without intermission.
[Illustration: THE COOK'S PREROGATIVES INVADED.]
To be one day without anything to eat was common. Two days' fasting,
marching and fighting was not uncommon, and there were times when no
rations were issued for three or four days. On one march, from
Petersburg to Appomattox, no rations were issued to Cutshaw's battalion
of artillery for one entire week, and the men subsisted on the corn
intended for the battery horses, raw bacon captured from the enemy, and
the water of springs, creeks, and rivers.
A soldier in the Army of Northern Virginia was fortunate when he had his
flour, meat, sugar, and coffee all at the same time and in proper
quantity. Having these, the most skillful axeman of the mess hewed down
a fine hickory or oak, and cut it into "lengths." All hands helped to
"tote" it to the fire. When wood was convenient, the fire was large, the
red coals abundant, and the meal soon prepared.
The man most gifted in the use of the skillet was the one most highly
appreciated about the fire, and as tyrannical as a Turk; but when he
raised the lid of the oven and exposed the brown-crusted tops of the
biscuit, animosity subsided. The frying-pan, full of "grease," then
became the centre of attraction. As the hollow-cheeked boy "sopped" his
biscuit, his poor, pinched countenance wrinkled into a smile, and his
sunken eyes glistened with delight. And the coffee, too,--how delicious
the aroma of it, and how readily each man disposed of a quart! The
strong men gathered round, chuckling at their good luck, and "cooing"
like a child with a big piece of cake. Ah, this was a sight which but
few of those who live and die are permitted to see!
And now the last biscuit is gone, the last drop of coffee, and the
frying-pan is "wiped" clean. The tobacco-bag is pulled wide open, pipes
are scraped, knocked out, and filled, the red coal is applied, and the
blue smoke rises in wreaths and curls from the mouths of the no longer
hungry, but happy and contented soldiers. Songs rise on the still night
air, the merry laugh resounds, the woods are bright with the rising
flame of the fire, story after story is told, song after song is sung,
and at midnight the soldiers steal away one by one to their blankets on
the ground, and sleep till reveille. Such was a meal when the mess was
fortunate.
How different when the wagons have not been heard from for forty-eight
hours. Now the question is, how to do the largest amount of good to the
largest number with the smallest amount of material? The most
experienced men discuss the situation and decide that "somebody" must go
foraging. Though the stock on hand is small, no one seems anxious to
leave the small certainty and go in search of the large uncertainty of
supper from some farmer's well-filled table; but at last several
comrades start out, and as they disappear the preparations for immediate
consumption commence. The meat is too little to cook alone, and the
flour will scarcely make six biscuits. The result is that "slosh" or
"coosh" must do. So the bacon is fried out till the pan is half full of
boiling grease. The flour is mixed with water until it flows like milk,
poured into the grease and rapidly stirred till the whole is a dirty
brown mixture. It is now ready to be served. Perhaps some dainty fellow
prefers the more imposing "slapjack." If so, the flour is mixed with
less water, the grease reduced, and the paste poured in till it covers
the bottom of the pan, and, when brown on the underside, is, by a nimble
twist of the pan, turned and browned again. If there is any sugar in
camp it makes a delicious addition.
About the time the last scrap of "slapjack" and the last spoonful of
"slosh" are disposed of, the unhappy foragers return. They take in the
situation at a glance, realize with painful distinctness that they have
sacrificed the homely slosh for the vain expectancy of apple butter,
shortcake, and milk, and, with woeful countenance and mournful voice,
narrate their adventure and disappointment thus: "Well, boys, we have
done the best we could. We have walked about nine miles over the
mountain, and haven't found a mouthful to eat. Sorry, but it's a fact.
Give us our biscuits." Of course there are none, and, as it is not
contrary to army etiquette to do so, the whole mess professes to be very
sorry. Sometimes, however, the foragers returned well laden with good
things, and as good comrades should, shared the fruits of their toilsome
hunt with their comrades.
Foragers thought it not indelicate to linger about the house of the
unsuspecting farmer till the lamp revealed the family at supper, and
then modestly approach and knock at the door. As the good-hearted man
knew that his guests were "posted" about the meal in progress in the
next room, the invitation to supper was given, and, shall I say it,
accepted with an unbecoming lack of reluctance.
The following illustrates the ingenuity of the average forager. There
was great scarcity of meat, and no prospect of a supply from the
wagons. Two experienced foragers were sent out, and as a farmer about
ten miles from the camp was killing hogs, guided by soldier instinct,
they went directly to his house, and found the meat nicely cut up, the
various pieces of each hog making a separate pile on the floor of an
outhouse. The proposition to buy met with a surprisingly ready response
on the part of the farmer. He offered one entire pile of meat, being one
whole hog, for such a small sum that the foragers instantly closed the
bargain, and as promptly opened their eyes to the danger which menaced
them. They gave the old gentleman a ten-dollar bill and requested
change. Pleased with their honest method he hastened away to his house
to obtain it. The two honest foragers hastily examined the particular
pile of pork which the simple-hearted farmer designated as theirs, found
it very rank and totally unfit for food, transferred half of it to
another pile, from which they took half and added to theirs, and awaited
the return of the farmer. On giving them their change, he assured them
that they had a bargain. They agreed that they had, tossed good and bad
together in a bag, said good-by, and departed as rapidly as artillerymen
on foot can. The result of the trip was a "pot-pie" of large dimensions;
and some six or eight men gorged with fat pork declared that they had
never cared for and would not again wish to eat pork,--especially
pork-pies.
A large proportion of the eating of the army was done in the houses and
at the tables of the people, not by the use of force, but by the wish
and invitation of the people. It was at times necessary that whole towns
should help to sustain the army of defense, and when this was the case,
it was done voluntarily and cheerfully. The soldiers--all who conducted
themselves properly--were received as honored guests and given the best
in the house. There was a wonderful absence of stealing or plundering,
and even when the people suffered from depredation they attributed the
cause to terrible necessity rather than to wanton disregard of the
rights of property. And when armed guards were placed over the
smoke-houses and barns, it was not so much because the commanding
general doubted the honesty as that he knew the necessities of his
troops. But even pinching hunger was not held to be an excuse for
marauding expeditions.
The inability of the government to furnish supplies forced the men to
depend largely upon their own energy and ingenuity to obtain them. The
officers, knowing this, relaxed discipline to an extent which would
seem, to a European officer, for instance, ruinous. It was no uncommon
sight to see a brigade or division, which was but a moment before
marching in solid column along the road, scattered over an immense field
searching for the luscious blackberries. And it was wonderful to see how
promptly and cheerfully all returned to the ranks when the field was
gleaned. In the fall of the year a persimmon tree on the roadside would
halt a column and detain it till the last persimmon disappeared.
The sutler's wagon, loaded with luxuries, which was so common in the
Federal army, was unknown in the Army of Northern Virginia, for two
reasons: the men had no money to buy sutlers' stores, and the country no
men to spare for sutlers. The nearest approach to the sutler's wagon was
the "cider cart" of some old darkey, or a basket of pies and cakes
displayed on the roadside for sale.
The Confederate soldier relied greatly upon the abundant supplies of
eatables which the enemy was kind enough to bring him, and he cheerfully
risked his life for the accomplishment of the twofold purpose of
whipping the enemy and getting what he called "a square meal." After a
battle there was general feasting on the Confederate side. Good things,
scarcely ever seen at other times, filled the haversacks and the
stomachs of the "Boys in Gray." Imagine the feelings of men half
famished when they rush into a camp at one side, while the enemy flees
from the other, and find the coffee on the fire, sugar at hand ready to
be dropped into the coffee, bread in the oven, crackers by the box, fine
beef ready cooked, desiccated vegetables by the bushel, canned peaches,
lobsters, tomatoes, milk, barrels of ground and roasted coffee, soda,
salt, and in short everything a hungry soldier craves. Then add the
liquors, wines, cigars, and tobacco found in the tents of the officers
and the wagons of the sutlers, and, remembering the condition of the
victorious party, hungry, thirsty, and weary, say if it did not require
wonderful devotion to duty, and great self-denial to push on, trampling
under foot the plunder of the camp, and pursue the enemy till the sun
went down.
When it was allowable to halt, what a glorious time it was! Men, who a
moment before would have been delighted with a pone of cornbread and a
piece of fat meat, discuss the comparative merits of peaches and milk
and fresh tomatoes, lobster and roast beef, and, forgetting the
briar-root pipe, faithful companion of the vicissitudes of the soldier's
life, snuff the aroma of imported Havanas.
In sharp contrast with the mess-cooking at the big fire was the serious
and diligent work of the man separated from his comrades, out of reach
of the woods, but bent on cooking and eating. He has found a coal of
fire, and having placed over it, in an ingenious manner, the few leaves
and twigs near his post, he fans the little pile with his hat. It soon
blazes. Fearing the utter consumption of his fuel, he hastens to balance
on the little fire his tin cup of water. When it boils, from some secure
place in his clothes he takes a little coffee and drops it in the cup,
and almost instantly the cup is removed and set aside; then a slice of
fat meat is laid on the coals, and when brown and crisp, completes the
meal--for the "crackers," or biscuit, are ready. No one but a soldier
would have undertaken to cook with such a fire, as frequently it was no
bigger than a quart cup.
Crackers, or "hard tack" as they were called, are notoriously poor
eating, but in the hands of the Confederate soldier were made to do good
duty. When on the march and pressed for time, a piece of solid fat pork
and a dry cracker was passable or luscious, as the time was long or
short since the last meal. When there was leisure to do it, hardtack was
soaked well and then fried in bacon grease. Prepared thus, it was a dish
which no Confederate had the weakness or the strength to refuse.
Sorghum, in the absence of the better molasses of peace times, was
greatly prized and eagerly sought after. A "Union" man living near the
Confederate lines was one day busy boiling his crop. Naturally enough,
some of "our boys" smelt out the place and determined to have some of
the sweet fluid. They had found a yearling dead in the field hard by,
and in thinking over the matter determined to sell the Union man if
possible. So they cut from the dead animal a choice piece of beef,
carried it to the old fellow and offered to trade. He accepted the
offer, and the whole party walked off with canteens full.
Artillerymen, having tender consciences and no muskets, seldom, if ever,
shot stray pigs; but they did sometimes, as an act of friendship, wholly
disinterested, point out to the infantry a pig which seemed to need
shooting, and by way of dividing the danger and responsibility of the
act, accept privately a choice part of the deceased.
On one occasion, when a civilian was dining with the mess, there was a
fine pig for dinner. This circumstance caused the civilian to remark on
the good fare. The "forager" replied that pig was an uncommon dish, this
one having been kicked by one of the battery horses while stealing corn,
and instantly killed. The civilian seemed to doubt the statement after
his teeth had come down hard on a pistol bullet, and continued to
doubt, though assured that it was the head of a horse-shoe nail.
The most melancholy eating a soldier was ever forced to do, was, when
pinched with hunger, cold, wet, and dejected, he wandered over the
deserted field of battle and satisfied his cravings with the contents of
the haversacks of the dead. If there is anything which will overcome the
natural abhorrence which a man feels for the enemy, the loathing of the
bloated dead, and the awe engendered by the presence of death, solitude,
and silence, it is hunger. Impelled by its clamoring, men of high
principle and tenderest humanity become for the time void of
sensibility, and condescend to acts which, though justified by their
extremity, seem afterwards, even to the doers, too shameless to mention.
When rations became so very small that it was absolutely necessary to
supplement them, and the camp was permanently established, those men who
had the physical ability worked for the neighborhood farmers at cutting
cord-wood, harvesting the crops, killing hogs, or any other farm-work. A
stout man would cut a cord of wood a day and receive fifty cents in
money, or its equivalent in something eatable. Hogs were slaughtered for
the "fifth quarter." When the corn became large enough to eat, the
roasting ears, thrown in the ashes with the shucks on, and nicely
roasted, made a grateful meal. Turnip and onion patches also furnished
delightful and much-needed food, good raw or cooked.
Occasionally, when a mess was hard pushed for eatables, it became
necessary to resort to some ingenious method of disgusting a part of the
mess, that the others might eat their fill. The "pepper treatment" was a
common method practiced with the soup, which once failed. A shrewd
fellow, who loved things "hot," decided to have plenty of soup, and to
accomplish his purpose, as he passed and repassed the boiling pot,
dropped in a pod of red pepper. But, alas! for him, there was another
man like minded who adopted the same plan, and the result was that all
the mess waited in vain for that pot of soup to cool.
The individual coffee-boiler of one man in the Army of Northern Virginia
was always kept at the boiling point. The owner of it was an enigma to
his comrades. They could not understand his strange fondness for
"red-hot" coffee. Since the war he has explained that he found the heat
of the coffee prevented its use by others, and adopted the plan of
placing his cup on the fire after every sip. This same character never
troubled himself to carry a canteen, though a great water drinker. When
he found a good canteen he would kindly give it to a comrade, reserving
the privilege of an occasional drink when in need. He soon had an
interest in thirty or forty canteens and their contents, and could
always get a drink of water if it was to be found in any of them. He
pursued the same plan with blankets, and always had plenty in that line.
His entire outfit was the clothes on his back and a haversack accurately
shaped to hold one half pone of corn bread.
Roasting-ear time was a trying time for the hungry private. Having been
fed during the whole of the winter on salt meat and coarse bread, his
system craved the fresh, luscious juice of the corn, and at times his
honesty gave way under the pressure. How could he resist? He didn't,--he
took some roasting ears! Sometimes the farmer grumbled, sometimes he
quarreled, and sometimes he complained to the officers of the
depredations of "the men." The officers apologized, ate what corn they
had on hand, and sent their "boy" for some more. One old farmer
conceived the happy plan of inviting some privates to his house, stating
his grievances, and securing their cooperation in the effort to protect
his corn. He told them that of course _they_ were not the _gentlemen_
who took his corn! Oh no! of course _they_ would not do such a thing;
but wouldn't they please speak to the others and ask them please not to
take his corn? Of course! certainly! oh, yes! they would remonstrate
with their comrades. How they burned, though, as they thought of the
past and contemplated the near future. As they returned to camp through
the field they filled their haversacks with the silky ears, and were met
on the other side of the field by the kind farmer and a file of men, who
were only too eager to secure the plucked corn "in the line of duty."
A faithful officer, worn out with the long, weary march, sick, hungry,
and dejected, leaned his back against a tree and groaned to think of his
inability to join in the chase of an old hare, which, he knew, from the
wild yells in the wood, his men were pursuing. But the uproar approached
him--nearer, nearer, and nearer, until he saw the hare bounding towards
him with a regiment at her heels. She spied an opening made by the folds
of the officer's cloak and jumped in, and he embraced his first meal for
forty-eight hours.
An artilleryman, camped for a day where no water was to be found easily,
awakened during the night by thirst, went stumbling about in search of
water; and to his great delight found a large bucketful. He drank his
fill, and in the morning found that what he drank had washed a
bullock's head, and was crimson with its blood.
Some stragglers came up one night and found the camp silent. All hands
asleep. Being hungry they sought and to their great delight found a
large pot of soup. It had a peculiar taste, but they "worried" it down,
and in the morning bragged of their good fortune. The soup had defied
the stomachs of the whole battery, being strongly impregnated with the
peculiar flavor of defunct cockroaches.
Shortly before the evacuation of Petersburg, a country boy went hunting.
He killed and brought to camp a muskrat. It was skinned, cleaned, buried
a day or two, disinterred, cooked, and eaten with great relish. It was
splendid.
During the seven days' battles around Richmond, a studious private
observed the rats as they entered and emerged from a corn-crib. He
killed one, cooked it privately, and invited a friend to join him in
eating a fine squirrel. The comrade consented, ate heartily, and when
told what he had eaten, forthwith disgorged. But he confesses that up to
the time when he was enlightened he had greatly enjoyed the meal.
It was at this time, when rats were a delicacy, that the troops around
Richmond agreed to divide their rations with the poor of the city, and
they were actually hauled in and distributed. Comment here would be like
complimenting the sun on its brilliancy.
Orators dwell on the genius and skill of the general officers;
historians tell of the movements of divisions and army corps, and the
student of the art of war studies the geography and topography of the
country and the returns of the various corps: they all seek to find and
to tell the secret of success or failure. The Confederate soldier knows
the elements of his success--courage, endurance, and devotion. He knows
also by whom he was defeated--sickness, starvation, death. He fought not
men only, but food, raiment, pay, glory, fame, and fanaticism. He
endured privation, toil, and contempt. He won, and despite the cold
indifference of all and the hearty hatred of some, he will have for all
time, in all places where generosity is, a fame untarnished.