The one thing that we suffered most from, the hardship hardest to bear, was hunger. The scantiness of the rations was something fierce. We never got a square meal that winter. We were always hungry. Even when we were getting full rations the issue was one-quarter pound of bacon, or one-half pound of beef, and little over a pint of flour or cornmeal, ground with the cob on it, we used to think--no stated ration of vegetables or sugar and coffee--just bread and meat. Some days we had the bread, but no meat; some days the meat, but no bread. Two days we had nothing, neither bread nor meat--and it was a solemn and empty crowd. Now and then, at long intervals, they gave us some dried peas. Occasionally, a little sugar--about an ounce to a man for a three days' ration. The Orderly of the mess would spread the whole amount on the back of a tin plate, and mark off thirteen portions, and put each man's share into his hand--three days' rations, this was. One time, in a burst of generosity, the Commissary Department stunned us by issuing coffee. We made "coffee" out of most anything--parched corn, wheat or rye--when we could get it. Anything for a hot drink at breakfast! But this was _coffee_--"sure enough" coffee--we called it. They issued this three times. The first time, when counted out to the consumer, by the Orderly, each man had 27 grains. He made a cup--drank it. The next time the issue was 16 grains to the man--again he made a cup and drank it. The third issue gave nine grains to the man. Each of these issues was for three days' rations. By now it had got down to being a joke, so we agreed to put the whole amount together, and draw for which one of the mess should have it all--with the condition, that the winner should make a pot of coffee, and drink it, and let the rest of us see him do it. This was done. Ben Lambert won--made the pot of coffee--sat on the ground, with us twelve, like a coroner's jury, sitting around watching him, and drank every drop. How he could do it, under the gaze of twelve hungry men, who had no coffee, it is hard to see, but Ben was capable of very difficult feats. He drank that pot of coffee--all the same! After this, there was no more issue of coffee. Even a Commissary began to be dimly conscious that nine grains given a man for a three days' rations was like joking with a serious subject, so they quit it, and during that winter we had mostly just bread and meat--very little of that, and that little not to be counted on. This hunger was much the hardest trial we had to bear. We didn't much mind getting wet and cold; working hard, standing guard at night; and fighting when required--we were seasoned to all that--but you don't season to hunger. Going along all day with a gnawing at your insides, of which you were always conscious, was not pleasant. We had more appetite than anything else, and never got enough to satisfy it--even for a time.