Tuesday, July 24, 2012

"...the sleep of the fat and happy."

Wednesday, July 24, 1862, Richmond

The excitement of doing something new has worn off. All we do is stand, under arms, at the entrance to the South Carolina Depot. We look threatening and vigilant but really, it is quite humdrum. I find it difficult to stay awake and so does Hancock. We watch but all we see are wagons coming and going. Sometimes they come in loaded from one of the railroad depots, loaded with supplies for South Carolina troops. The supplies will be kept in this depot warehouse until they shall be disbursed to the troops in the field. Most often, the supplies coming by rail are loaded into the wagons at the Richmond and Petersburg Railroad depot as it is through that railroad that the most direct connections to the Palmetto State may be affected.

When we are not standing and standing and standing, we sleep a good deal on the mealy bags. We have three hours off our duty to explore and have some entertainment and excitement. At the end of our guard mount, it takes considerable will to turn a deaf ear to the sweet call of sleep.

Today, however, the calls of hunger drowned out all pleadings of sleep. We are not actually hungry. There is enough to eat here even if it is a little-varied menu. In addition to the salt pork and hard crackers, we do get some beef and a few onions. There are no pies, cakes or other delicacies. We cannot help but look upon the many bundles and boxes at the depot and wonder what sweet treats might be contained within. But we are soldiers and must do our duty. Stealing is not doing our duty.

After our mount early this afternoon, Hancock and I vowed we would sacrifice our sleep and venture forth from the depot and search for victuals that normal folks consume. We had heard that the Exchange Hotel at the corner of Fourteenth and Franklin put on a good feed so off we went, promising to bring back something for Castles and Duncan.

This was our first time seeing the city and what a grand sight it was. This is a big city, numbering 38,000 souls I am told. The buildings are big and tall, some as tall as four stories. The traffic in the streets is busy and crowded. We saw drays, broughams, Concords, runabouts, runaways and phaetons. Many of the omnibusses sported liveries for the many hotels in the city. As we were not exhaulted enough, we went on foot.

There are so many uniforms here. Uniforms by the hundreds walked and rode everywhere. Hancock said he thought he saw everything from the common private to a field marshall. We were stopped twice had had our papers examined by members of the police guard. Having our papers with us and knowing private Henry Chanbers kept us from spending a most uncomfortable night in the stockade.

We arrived at our goal, the Exchange Hotel. Boldly we entered, fully expecting that within moments we would eat ourselves into a state of intoxication. A big negro in a fancy black suit of clothes interrupted our stride and politely but very firmly asked us to leave. He stated that we were not the proper sort of folks that would find our stay a very pleasant one. There were two of us and together we made one of him. We might have made an issue of it and a mess of him but behind him were regiments of officers with more gold on their sleeves than Midas had in his temple. We promised our two comrades we would not return empty-handed so for their sakes, we retreated in search of something other than a prison cell.
We left muttering what we would do to that blackguard if we had our muskets and bayonets.

Not far from the Exchange was the First Market, on Seventeenth. All sorts of foodstuffs were there for sale to those who had money. Everything was very expensive. We had no idea that the war had caused such inflating of prices but we had some money and there was that promise to Castles and Duncan. I had been hoping for some fresh fruit but it was too early in the season to find much other than some peaches picked too early and some poor-looking plums. There were greens and onions and peas in abundance. I would have charged a Yankee gun for a sweet watermelon.

We had exhausted most of what little money we had on greens, onions and one mincemeat pie when we smelled bacon. Two stalls down from us we saw several hams hanging along with assorted game and fowl. The stall keeper saw out longing stares and called us over. He was a Dutchman and praised us in his thick language for being patriots. He said that he had come over from Europe after the failed revolutions of 1848. After that he said that he had a special price for those who wore the grey in defense of heighmatt, which I think is home in his mother tongue. Even with his "special price", it was far beyond our miserable depleted resources.

I was not about to go back and face our pards with greens and onions so I gritted my teeth and reached into my pocket for a gold quarter-eagle. The expression on that Dutchman's face closed the deal without a word being said. We left his stall with three hams. We would feast.

Whilst returning to the depot, more savory smells assaulted our nostrils. They were coming from the American Hotel on Twelfth and Main. We should have gone straight back to the depot but we still had not eaten anything and we had foolishly left the mincemeat pie with the Dutchman. Rather than go in through the front door and face the sale fate as happened with the Exchange, we went to the back as it seemed that the smells were originating there.

We were stopped by two negroes, who we took for "employees" of the American, named Samson and Horace. We explained that we were hungry and that the smells from their kitchen attracted us to the back of the hotel. We offered one of the hams to them if they would cook one for us. They listened not and ordered us away.

No sooner had we turned away than a stout negro wench came flying out of the doorway brandishing a most deadly weapon, a wooden spoon. This was a spoon as stout as the warrior wielding it. It looked as if she could drive nails with it and we watched as she stuck it under the nose of Horace and threatened the both of them with dastardly punishments if they got between her and our hams. The boys cowered and she bade us come into the kitchen which was in a building separate from the hotel. She said she was called Eliza.

She took one ham and sliced it up into thick steaks quicker than one of Jeb Stuart's troopers can slice a Yankee. She took our greens and onions and threw them into an already boiling pot. Fresh-baked bread and sweet butter graced the table. Soon, all of us, Samson and Horace included, ate and ate and ate. I was in such pain and did not mind a bit. If I had died right then and there, I would have died happy. We left the peaches and plums with Eliza, exchanging them for one of her pies. We left them with one ham and many thanks for a fine, fine meal. We gave Eliza ten dollars Confederate which was all the paper money we had and I gave her thirty cents, silver. She looked amazed and she gave me a big kiss on the cheek. Then it was my turn to look anazed. Samson and Horace just roared.

We were quite late returning to the depot and Castles and Duncan were very cross with us for not relieving them. We produced the last ham and Eliza's pie and they turned silent. We took over the watch from them and they took their loot to the back of the depot. We heard laughter, squeals and the giggles as made by young girls. All of us will sleep the sleep of the fat and happy tonight.

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