"GIVE US BREAD!"
The food situation in Central Europe became really desperate in the
third year of the war. The year's wheat crop had been short in quantity
and quality. Its nutritive value was about 55 per cent. of normal. The
rye crop was better, but not large enough to meet the shortage in
breadstuffs caused by the poor wheat yield. Barley was fair under the
circumstances. Oats were a success in many parts of Germany, but fell
very low in Austria and Hungary. The potato crop was a failure. The
supply of peas and beans had been augmented by garden culture, but most
people held what they had raised and but little of the crop reached the
large population centers. To make things worse, the Hungarian Indian
corn crop was very indifferent. Great losses were sustained when the
Roumanian army in September and October overran much of Transylvania,
drove off some twenty thousand head of cattle, and slaughtered about
fifty thousand pigs. Large quantities of cereals were also ruined by
them, as I was able to ascertain on my trips to the Roumanian front.
Up to this time the war-bread of the Central states had been rather
palatable, though a steady loss in quality had been noticeable. Soon it
came to pass that the ration of bread had to be reduced to about
one-quarter of a pound per day. And the dough it was made of was no
longer good.
The 55-25-20 war-bread was good to eat and very nutritious. The stuff
now passing for bread was anything but that, so far as Austria was
concerned. Its quality fluctuated from one week to another. I was unable
to keep track of it. Indian corn was already used in the loaf, and
before long ground clover hay was to form one of its constituents. Worst
of all, the bread was not always to be had. At the beginning of November
the three slices of bread into which the ration was divided, as a rule,
fell to two, so that the daily allowance of bread was not quite four
ounces. On one occasion Vienna had hardly any bread for four days.
In Hungary conditions were a little better, for the reason that the
Hungarian government had closed the border against wheat and cereal
exports. But the large population centers were also poorly provided with
flour.
Germany, on the other hand, was better off than either Austria or
Hungary. The rye crop had been fairly good, and food regulation was
further advanced there. It was, in fact, close to the point of being
perfect. But the quantity allotted the individual was inadequate, of
course.
Throughout Central Europe the cry was heard:
"Give us bread!"
So far the several populations had borne all hardships in patience and
stoical indifference. The limit of endurance was reached, however.
Colder weather called for a greater number of calories to heat the body.
The vegetable season was over. The hoardings of the poorer classes had
been eaten up. The cattle were no longer on pasture, and, fed with hay
only, gave now less milk than ever.
It was a mournful season.
All food was now regulated. While there had been no meat cards in
Austria and Hungary as yet, there were two, and at times three, meatless
days; though when on three days no beef, veal, or pork could be eaten,
it was permitted to consume mutton and fowl on one of them.
But the consumption of meat regulated itself, as it were. Meat has
always been proportionately expensive in Central Europe, and but a small
percentage of people ever ate it more than once a day. The majority, in
fact, ate meat only three times a week, as was especially the case in
the rural districts, where fresh meat was eaten only on Sundays. There
was no inherent craving for this food, on this account, and beef at
seventy cents American a pound was something that few could afford.
Animal fat had in the past taken the place of meat. In the summer not
much was needed of this, for the reason that the warm weather called for
less body heat, to supply which is the special mission of fats. But with
clothing worn thin, shoes leaking, and rooms poorly heated, the demand
for heat-producing food grew apace.
This was reflected by the longer potato-lines.
On one occasion I occupied myself with a potato-line in the Second
Municipal District of Vienna. It was ten o'clock in the morning.
Distribution was going on. Those then served had been standing in that
line since six o'clock. The first who had received their quota of the
eight pounds of potatoes, which was to last for three days, had appeared
in front of the shop at three o'clock in the morning. It had rained most
of that time and a cold wind was blowing.