When
we went back downstairs I noticed the putrid smell of gangrene had been
overwhelmed somewhat by the smell of freshly baked bread. Mrs. Schriver and her
mother were busy slicing loaves for the injured soldiers while more bread was
being baked in the wood fire oven. The oven was made from black iron, and it
put out a lot of heat. The back door was still closed to protect us from
sharpshooters, but we had to open all the windows elsewhere in the house and
fan in some fresh air to keep from boiling ourselves. The taste of homemade
apple butter spread across that fresh bread made enduring the stifling heat
worth it.
“I haven’t tasted such sweet bread in
all my life,” said one of the injured soldiers. The fingers from one of his
hands had been blown off by shrapnel so Tillie helped feed him.
“What kind of food do the soldiers
have out there?” I asked him.
“Not much. Some hardtack is the only
food I guess. We used to have salted pork, but I haven’t seen much of that in
weeks. At least not without maggots crawlin’ in it.”
“That's awful!” said Tillie.
“They’re not so bad once you get used
to ‘em,” continued the soldier. “I hear they kinda good for ya.”
“You eat maggots?” I asked surprised.
“You eat anythin’ when you’re hungry
enough,” said the soldier.
--from Time Trip #4: Killing for Country
|
Hardtack biscuits and a tin cup. |
KILLING FOR COUNTRY
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1
THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE
A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD
TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3
WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING
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