- Joined
- Jul 23, 2017
- Location
- Southwest Missouri
After the battle of Nashville, December, 1864, we marched in pursuit of Hood as far as the Tennessee River. There, for more than a week, we subsisted on corn—not canned corn and not even popcorn, but common, yellow, field corn on the cob.
And the row we suffering hero-martyrs made about it!
A soldier was carrying a couple of ears of corn to a camp-fire to parch for his supper. A mule tethered near by saw him and lifted up its dreadful voice in piteous braying. The indignant warrior smote him in the jaw, crying, “You get nine pounds a day and I get only five, you long-eared glutton, and now you want half of mine!”
The Drums of the 47th
And the row we suffering hero-martyrs made about it!
A soldier was carrying a couple of ears of corn to a camp-fire to parch for his supper. A mule tethered near by saw him and lifted up its dreadful voice in piteous braying. The indignant warrior smote him in the jaw, crying, “You get nine pounds a day and I get only five, you long-eared glutton, and now you want half of mine!”
The Drums of the 47th