Si Klegg, Book 1

by John McElroy

  CHAPTER IV. THE AWFUL HARDTACK

  THE HARD AND SOLID STAFF OF MILITARY LIFE.

  "APPETITE'S a queer thing," said Si to Shorty one day, when both werein a philosophical mood. "It's an awful bother when you haven't it, andit's a great deal worse when you have it, and can't get anything forit." "Same as money," returned sage Shorty. During the first few monthsof Si Klegg's service in the army the one thing that bothered him morethan anything else was his appetite. It was a very robust, healthy onethat Si had, for he had grown up on his father's farm in Indiana, andhad never known what it was to be hungry without abundant means at handfor appeasing his desires in that direction. His mother's cupboard wasnever known to be in the condition of Old Mother Hubbard's, describedin the nursery rhyme. The Kleggs might not have much tapestry andbric-a-brac in their home, but their smoke-house was always full, andMrs. Klegg's kitchen could have fed a camp-meeting any time withoutwarning. So it was that when Si enlisted his full, rosy face and hisroundness of limb showed that he had been well fed, and that naturehad made good use of the ample daily supplies that were provided. Hisdigestive organs were kept in perfect condition by constant exercise.

  After Si had put down his name on the roll of Co. Q of the 200th Ind.he had but a few days to remain at home before his regiment was to startfor Louisville. During this time his mother and sisters kept him filledup with "goodies" of every sort. In fact, it was the biggest thing inthe way of a protracted picnic that Si had ever struck.

  "You must enjoy these things while you can, Si," said his mother, "forgoodness knows what you'll do when you really git into the army. I'veheerd 'em tell awful things about how the poor sogers don't have halfenough to eat, and what they do git goes agin' any Christian stomach.Here, take another piece of this pie. A little while, and it'll be along time, I reckon, till ye git any more."

  "Don't keer if I do!" said Si, for there was scarcely any limit to hiscapacity.

  And so during those days and nights the old lady and the girls cookedand cooked, and Si ate and ate, until it seemed as if he wouldn't wantany more till the war was over.

  Si was full, and as soon as Co. Q was, it was ordered to camp, and Sihad to go. They loaded him down with good things enough to last hima week. The pretty Annabel--the neighbor's daughter who had solemnlypromised Si that she wouldn't go with any other fellow while he wasaway--came around to see Si off and brought him a rich fruit cake.

  "I made that for you," she said.

  "Bully for you!" said Si, for he felt that he must begin to talk like asoldier.

  The first day or two after reaching Louisville the 200th receivedrations of "soft bread." But that didn't last long. It was only a waythey had of letting the fresh soldier down easy. Orders came to getready to pull out after Bragg, and then Si'a regiment had its firstissue of army rations. As the Orderly pried open a box of hardtack andbegan to distribute them to the boys, exclaimed:

  "Them's nice-looking soda crackers. I don't believe the grub is going tobe so bad, after all."

  Si had never seen a hardtack before.

  "Better taste one and see how you like it!" said one of Buell's raggedIndiana veterans, who had come over to see the boys of the 200th andhear the latest news from "God's country."

  It happened that this lot was one of extra quality as to hardness. Thebaker's watch had stopped, or he had gone to sleep, and they had beenleft in the oven or dry-kiln too long. Si took one of them and carriedit to his mouth. He first tried on it the bite which made such havocwith a quarter section of custard pie, but his incisors made no moreimpression upon it than if it had been a shingle.

  "You have to bear on hard," said the veteran, with a grim smile.

  "Je-ru-sa-lem!" exclaimed Si after he had made two or three attemptsequally barren of results.

  Then he tried his "back teeth." His molars were in prime order, and hisjaw power was sufficient to crack a hickory nut every time. Si crowdedone corner of the hardtack as far as he could between his "grinders,"where he could get a good "purchase" on it, shut his eyes and turnedon a full head of steam. His teeth and jaws fairly cracked under thestrain, but he couldn't even "phase" it.

  "If that ain't old pizen!" said Si. "It beats anything I ever seen up inthe Wabash country."

  But his blood was up, and laying the cracker upon a log, he brought thebutt of his gun down upon it like a pile-driver.

  HE TRIES THE BUTT OF HIS GUN ON IT 041 ]

  "I thought I'd fix ye," he said, as he picked up the fragments, andtried his teeth upon the smaller ones. "Have I got to eat such stuff asthat?" with a despairing look at his veteran friend. "I'd just assoon be a billy-goat and live on circus-posters, fruit-cans and oldhoop-skirts."

  "You'll get used to it after a while, same's we did. You'll see the timewhen you'll be mighty glad to get even as hard a tack as that!"

  Si's heart sank almost into his shoes at the prospect, for the taste ofhis mother's pie and Annabel's fruit cake were yet fresh in his mouth.But Si was fully bent on being a loyal, obedient soldier, determinedto make the best of everything without any more "kicking" than was theinalienable right of every man who wore a uniform.

  For the first time in his life Si went to bed hungry that night.Impelled by the gnawings of his appetite he made repeated assaults uponthe hardtack, but the result was wholly insufficient to satisfy thelongings of his stomach. His supper wasn't anything to speak of. Beforegoing to bed he began to exercise his ingenuity on various schemes toreduce the hardtack to a condition in which it would be more gratifyingto his taste and better suited to the means with which nature hadprovided him for disposing of his rations. Naturally Si thought thatsoaking in water would have a beneficial effect. So he laid five or sixof them in the bottom of a camp-kettle, anchored them down with astone, and covered them with water. He thought that with the aid of afrying-pan he would get up a breakfast that he could eat, anyway.

  Si felt a little blue as he lay curled up under his blanket with hishead pillowed on his knapsack. He thought some about his mother, andsister Maria, and pretty Annabel, but he thought a good deal moreabout the beef and potatoes, the pies and the puddings, that were soplentifully spread upon the table at home.

  It was a long time before he got to sleep. As he lay there, thinking andthinking, there came to his mind some ether uses to which it seemed tohim the hardtack might be put, which would be much more consistentwith its nature than to palm it off on the soldiers as alleged food. Hethought he could now understand why, when he enlisted, they examined histeeth so carefully, as if they were going to buy him for a mule. Theysaid it was necessary to have good teeth in order to bite "cartridges"successfully, but now he knew it was with reference to his ability toeat hardtack.

  Si didn't want to be killed if he could help it.

  While he was lying there he determined to line one of his shirts withhardtacks, and he would put that on whenever there was going to be afight. He didn't believe the bullets would go through them. He wanted todo all he could toward paralyzing the rebels, and with such a protectionhe could be very brave, while his comrades were being mowed down aroundhim. The idea of having such' a shirt struck Si as being a brilliantone.

  Then, he thought hardtack would be excellent for half-soling his shoes.He didn't think they would ever wear out.

  If he ran short of ammunition he could ram pieces of hardtack into hisgun and he had no doubt they would do terrible execution in the ranks ofthe enemy.

  All these things and many more Si thought of until finally he was lostin sleep. Then he dreamed that somebody was trying to cram stones downhis throat.

  The company was called out at daylight, and immediately after roll-callSi went to look after the hardtacks he had put to soak the night before.He thought he had never felt so hungry in his life. He fished outthe hardtack and carefully inspected them, to note the result of thesubmerging and to figure out the chances on his much-needed breakfast.

  To any old soldier it would be unnecessary to describe the condition inwhich Si found thos
e hardtacks, and the effect of the soaking. For theinformation of any who never soaked a hardtack it may be said that Sifound them transformed, to all appearances, into sole-leather. They wereflexible, but as tough as the hide that was "found in the vat when thetanner died."

  Si tried to bite a piece off one of them to see what it was like, but hecouldn't get his teeth through it. In sheer desperation he laid it on alog, seized a hatchet, and chopped off a corner. He put it in his mouthand chewed on it a while, but found it as tasteless as cold codfish.

  Si thought he would try the frying-pan. He chopped the hardtacks intobits, put in equal parts of water and grease, sifted over the mixture alittle salt and pepper, and then gave it a thorough frying. Si's spiritsrose during the gradual development of this scheme, as it seemed tooffer a good prospect for his morning meal. And when it came to theeating. Si found it really good, comparatively speaking, even thoughit was very much like a dish compounded of the sweepings from around ashoemaker's bench. A good appetite was indispensable to a real enjoymentof this--which the soldiers called by a name that cannot be givenhere--but Si had the appetite, and he ate and was thankful.

  "I thought I'd get the bulge on them things some way or other," said Si,as he drank the last of his coffee and arose from his meal, feeling likea giant refreshed with new wine.

  For the next two or three months Si largely devoted his surplus energiesto further experimenting with the hardtack. He applied every conceivableprocess of cookery he could think of that was possible with the meageroutfit at his command in the way of utensils and materials. Nearly allof his patient and persevering efforts resulted only in vexation ofspirit.

  He continued to eat hardtack from day to day, in these various forms,but it was only because he had to do it. He didn't hanker after it,but it was a military necessity--hardtack or starvation. It was a hardchoice, but Si's love of life--and Annabel--induced him to choose thehardtack.

  THE BEST WAY AFTER ALL 045 ]

  But for a long-time Si's stomach was in a state of chronic rebellion,and on the whole he had a hard time of it getting used to this staplearticle of army diet. He did not become reconciled to it until after hisregiment had rations of flour for a week, when the "cracker-line" hadbeen cut by the guerillas and the supply of that substantial edible wasexhausted. Si's experience with the flour swept away all his objectionsto the hardtack. Those slapjacks, so fearfully and wonderfully made,and those lumps of dough, mixed with cold water and dried on flat stonesbefore the fire, as hard as cannon balls, played sad havoc with hisinternal arrangements. For the first time he was obliged to fall intothe cadaverous squad at sick-call and wabble up to the doctor's shop,where he was dosed with castor-oil and blue-mass. Si was glad enough tosee hardtack again. Most of the grumbling he did thereafter concerningthe hardtack was because he often couldn't get enough.

  About six months taught Si what all the soldiers learned by experience,that the best way to eat the average hardtack was to take it"straight"--just as it came out of the box, without any soaking orfrying or stewing. At meal-time he would make a quart or so of coffee,stab the end of a ramrod through three or four slices of sowbelly, andcook them over the coals, allowing some of the drippings to fall uponthe hardtack for lubricating purposes, and these constituted his frugalrepast.