In the intervals of attending upon the sick we slept as we
could, leaning up against boxes, tilted back in chairs against the
side of the car, or lying down, with anything we could get for
pillows. Some of the surgeons and attendants bivouacked under the
trees in spite of the cold. In the morning we were hungry enough to
eat the stale corn-bread, and tried to like it, but even of that there
was very little, for the wounded men were ravenous. Drs. Gore and
Yates set themselves to whittle some "army-forks," or forked sticks,
and, cutting the bacon in thin slices, made little fires which they
carefully covered with large pans to keep the smoke from arising. By
these they toasted slices of bacon. Ah, how delicious was the odor,
how excellent the taste! Several hands were set at this work, but it
was necessarily very slow. I remained among my own patients, while my
servant climbed in and out of the car, bringing as much meat as she
could get, which I distributed while she returned for more. The
wounded men were clamorous for it, crying out, "Give it to us raw; we
can't wait." This we were soon compelled to do, as it was feared the
smoke might escape and betray us.
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