War from the Inside. Frederick L. Hitchcock

brigade requisition, and forwarded to division head-quarters. Here they were again consolidated into a division requisition, and so on until the army head-quarters was reached. Then the corps commissary received in bulk enough for his corps, and distributed it to the divisions in bulk, thence to brigades in bulk, thence to regiments, and finally from the regiment to the companies, and to the men. A long string of red tape, surely; and it might have been considerably shortened to the advantage of all, as it was later on.

REV. A. H. SCHOONMAKER CHAPLAIN

J. W. ANAWALT MAJOR AND SURGEON

G. K. THOMPSON FIRST LIEUT. AND ASS'T SURGEON

      An interesting feature of the issue of rations was the method of supplying the fresh beef. Live cattle were driven to the army and issued alive to the several corps, from which details were made of men who had been butchers, who killed and dressed the beef. The animals were driven into an enclosure and expert marksmen shot them down as wanted. This seemed cruel work, but it was well done; the animal being hit usually at the base of its horns, death was instantaneous. This fresh meat, which we got but seldom after the march began, was cooked and eaten the day it was issued. Enough for one day was all that was issued at a time, and this, after the non-eatable portions had been eliminated, did not overburden the men.

      The hard bread was a square cracker about the size of an ordinary soda cracker, only thicker, and very hard and dry. It was supposed to be of the same quality as sea biscuit or pilot bread, but I never saw any equal to that article. The salt pork was usually good for pork, but it was a great trial to us all to come down to camp fare, "hardtack and pork." Sometimes the "hardtack" was very old and poor. I have seen many a one placed in the palm of the hand, a smart blow, a puff of breath, and mirabile! a handful of "squirmers"—the boys' illustration of a "full hand." It came to be the rule to eat in daylight for protection against the unknown quantity in the hardtack. If we had to eat in the dark, after a prolonged march, our protection then lay in breaking our cracker into a cup of boiling coffee, stir it well and then flow enough of the coffee over to carry off most of the strangers and take the balance on faith.

      On the march each man carried his own rations in haversacks. These were made of canvas and contained pockets for salt, sugar and coffee, besides room for about two days' rations of hard bread and pork. Sometimes five, six, and seven days' rations were issued, then the balance had to be stowed away in knapsacks and pockets of the clothing. When, as was usual in the latter cases, there was also issued sixty to one hundred rounds of ammunition, the man became a veritable pack-mule.

      For the first month many of our men went hungry. Having enormous appetites consequent upon this new and most strenuous mode of life, they would eat their five days' supply in two or three, and then have to "skirmish" or go hungry until the next supply was issued. Most, however, soon learned the necessity as well as the benefit of restricting their appetites to the supply. But there were always some improvident ones, who never had a supply ahead, but were always in straights for grub. They were ready to black boots, clean guns, in fact, do any sort of menial work for their comrades for a snack to eat. Their improvidence made them the drudges of the company.

      Whatever may be said about other portions of the rations, the coffee was always good. I never saw any poor coffee, and it was a blessing it was so, for it became the soldiers' solace and stay, in camp, on picket and on the march. Tired, footsore, and dusty from the march, or wet and cold on picket, or homesick and shivering in camp, there were rest and comfort and new life in a cup of hot coffee. We could not always have it on picket nor on the march. To make a cup of coffee two things were necessary besides the coffee, namely, water and fire, both frequently very difficult to obtain. On picket water was generally plentiful, but in the immediate presence of the enemy, fire was forbidden, for obvious reasons. On the march both were usually scarce, as I shall show later on. How was our coffee made? Each man was provided with a pint tin cup. As much coffee as could comfortably be lifted from the haversack by the thumb and two fingers—depending somewhat on the supply—was placed in the cup, which was filled about three-fourths full of water, to leave room for boiling. It was then placed upon some live coals and brought to a boil, being well stirred in the meantime to get the strength of the coffee. A little cold water was then added to settle it. Eggs, gelatin, or other notions of civilization, for settling, were studiously (?) omitted. Sometimes sugar was added, but most of the men, especially the old vets, took it straight. It was astonishing how many of the "wrinkles of grim visaged war" were temporarily smoothed out by a cup of coffee. This was the mainstay of our meals on the march, a cup of coffee and a thin slice of raw pork between two hardtacks frequently constituting a meal. Extras fell in the way once in a while. Chickens have been known to stray into camp, the result of a night's foraging.

      Among the early experiences of our boys was an incident related to me by the "boy" who was "it." He said he had a mighty narrow escape last night.

      I asked, "How was that?"

      "Out hunting for chickens, struck a farmhouse, got a nice string, and was sneaking my way out. Dark as tar. Ran up against man, who grabbed me by the collar, and demanded 'what are you doing here?' I was mum as an owl. He marched me out where there was a flickering light, and sure as blazes it was old General Kimball. I didn't know that house was brigade head-quarters.

      "'What regiment do you belong to?'

      "'Dunno.'

      "'You've heard about the orders against marauding, eh?'

      "'Dunno.'

      "'Hand up those chickens, you rascal.'

      "I handed them out from behind my shaking legs.

      "'How many have you got?'

      "'Dunno'—I had two pair of nice ones. The old man took out his knife and slowly cut out one pair, looking savagely at me all the time.

      "'There! You get back to camp as quick as your legs will carry you, and if I ever get my hands on you again you'll remember it.'" He said he thought he'd try and forage away from head-quarters next time. General Kimball was a rigid disciplinarian, but withal a very kind-hearted man. He no doubt paid for those chickens rather than have one of his boys suffer for his foraging escapade. Perhaps I ought to say a word about these foraging expeditions to eke out the boys' larder. These men were not thieves in any sense and very few attempted this dubious method, but the temptation was almost beyond the power of resistance. The best way to test this temptation is to diet yourself on "hardtack" and pork for just about one week. Then the devil's argument—always present—was practically true there, "the chickens will be taken (not stolen) by some of the army, and you might as well have one as anybody."

      The following story of a neighboring regiment will show that even officers high in rank sometimes found that "circumstances alter cases." The troops were nearing bivouac at the close of the day, and, as usual, the colonel ordered the music to start up and the men to fall into step and approach camp in order (the march is usually in route step—i.e., every man marches and carries his gun as he pleases). The fifes and the snare-drums promptly obeyed, but the big bass drum was silent. The men fell into cadence step in fine shape, including the bass drummer, but his big shell gave forth no sound. The colonel called out, "What's the matter with the bass drum?" Still no response. A second ejaculation from head-quarters, a little more emphatic, fared no better. Patience now exhausted, the colonel yelled, "What in h—l's the matter, I say, with——" when a sotto voice reached his ear, with "Colonel, colonel, he's got a pair of chickens in his drum, and one is for you." "Well, if the poor fellow is sick, let him fall out."

      A little explanation now about how the army is organized will probably make my story clearer. That an army is made of three principal arms, viz., artillery, cavalry, and infantry, is familiar to all; that the cavalry is mounted is also well known, but that in actual fighting they were often dismounted