University of Virginia Library

68. A Disappointing Dinner
BY GENERAL GEORGE H. GORDON (1863)

IN spite of all the vexations of starting, every commander of troops will admit that, once mounted and on the march, the most harassing cares give place to buoyancy if not to exuberance of spirits. As I turned my face towards Richmond, I responded to my host's farewell and invitation, "Call again, General,"with at least a seeming cordiality; and greeted almost tenderly good Doctor Hubbard who came to express his regrets at our departure. He was very sad, and I gave him all the encouragement I could. Again I bore a brief interruption from two young women, who, propelled in a tip-cart by a single donkey, parleyed

with me about a wagon taken by somebody, from somewhere, at some time.

At one o'clock in the afternoon we encamped for the night, two miles beyond Barhamsville. It rained fiercely. The men were in the woods; myself and staff in a dirty and empty shanty adjacent. General Keyes occupied the best farm-house in the neighborhood; but not for comfort,—it was a ruse. "Hush!"he uttered in bated breath; "still as death! this

house is not on the road we travel. I am here to deceive the enemy."Those who have always lived in comfort can have but a faint notion of the pleasures of an encampment at the end of a day's march, even in tempestuous and cheerless weather. Give a soldier wood for a roaring blaze, dry straw for a bed if he can get it, and if not, then hemlock boughs, and if neither, then a dry spot for his blanket ; add a plentiful supply of rations, and your true soldier will find cheer where to a civilian the outlook would be dark and forbidding. Before a merry camp-fire despondency gives place to levity, dulness to animation ; hopes rise, the muscles grow hard,' the eye brightens, resolution is strengthened, until the worn and cheerless soldier who threw off his canteen, cartridge-box, and haversack, and faded into a sorry heap, becomes erect, strong, and defiant. All this is born of food and fire, of a pipe and a merry group.

The dripping column that toiled heavily on its march from Barhamsville on the 25th of June, and halted in front of a dark and gloomy wood for the night, were soon transformed into happy dwellers, peopling the silent arches of the forest with song, or filling its dark recesses with a convivial glow. Soldiers, too, are mortal, with appetites pertaining to mortality. In common with races less civilized, they have a keen instinct for food, though they do not enjoy with the epicure the advantages of Fulton or Quincy market; hence, inroads on chickens, hogs, and cattle that are nurtured on sacred soil, and an accurate knowledge of the situation of smoke and spring house. Rank commands external respect: but rank, in common with . the lowest station, acknowledges demands of hunger; and rank, however exalted, will fail to secure the bounties of the surrounding country, if it does not provide against the wandering tribes that swarm over and into every hamlet within miles of the march of a column of troops.

It was a pleasing idea, that of dinner, as I watched the leaping blaze from my camp-fire, and dried wet places in my clothing. It was a consoling thought that I had stationed a sentinel at yonder farm-house

to protect the dinner which the owner had consented to prepare. In contemplation of my own meal, how I rejoiced as my beloved troops were preparing theirs! To see them crowding around the savory messes, to know that they were well fed and happy, was delightful indeed. At last I notified my staff that we would visit the Elysian fields of dinner.

"Which is the house, Mr. White? Go on, and show us the way."

"This is it, hey ? I admire your taste ; it is the best-looking house around here; and it was very prudent in you, too, to post this sentinel at the door. These dogs of soldiers are so sharp."

"This is Doctor Jones, General,"said Mr. White, as he introduced a gentlemanly person as the master of the mansion.

"Glad to see you, Doctor; we have come to dine with you."

"Why, General, I sent your dinner to you more than an hour ago."

"Eh! what?"

"Didn't you send 'for it?"

"Send for it ! "I echoed, feebly. "I see it all! Call up that sentinel. 'Has any soldier carried off a dinner while you have been on post?"

"No, sir!"

"Did any dinner walk off alone in your presence?"

"Didn't see it, sir."

"When did you send this— this dinner, Doctor ?"

"We cooked and sent it as quickly as possible after your arrival."

"But this sentinel was posted as soon as we arrived, was he not, Mr. White?"I said to my aid.

"I didn't post him until one hour after,"replied the conscience-stricken officer.

"And before he appeared,"said the doctor, "a soldier came and said he was sent by the General to bring his dinner to him."

"General who?"

"General Gordon."

"May that dinner choke that soldier!"I muttered. My aid was lost in meditation. But our dinner—ah, our dinner!—that was gone forever!

Doctor, have you anything left to eat?"

I am afraid not. Three chickens were cooked, but the soldiers came and carried them away. They also killed my sitting hens, and hens with chickens; took off my beehives, and ate all I had in the house. So you will have a mighty poor dinner, I'm afraid, gentlemen."

And it was poor, but filling. Though the hungry officers were not, the pickled mangoes were, nicely stuffed. The doctor favored us at the table with his presence, but several young ladies concealed in upper chambers, brooding over secession and nursing hatred to Yankees, did not. In a short after-dinner conversation my host declared the Southern belief to be that we were waging this war for their total subjugation, and that such belief rendered it impossible for them to do anything but fight. He thought they would come back to the Union as it was, if we would consent.