- Jul 23, 2017
- Southwest Missouri
The average soldier can smell pot-liquor a mile off, and he will go for it every time, unless he is tied. And "greens!" Did you ever see the negroes eat greens, at an old-time corn-shucking? It was nothing to the way the soldiers devour them. To the hungry soldier—and all of them are hungry now—to the half-famished soldier it is equal to a wedding feast. There is not a man of the S. L. A. who cannot tell, by a sort of prescience or instinct, when a pot-boiling is going on in camp. And as soon as they can locate "the game," it is amusing to see them coming round, cup in hand, begging for "just a little bit of that liquor!"
A cup of hot pot-liquor is a boon to the soldier. It has a wonderfully invigorating and reviving effect. It warms, exhilarates, cheers. It thaws the frozen heart, moves the silent tongue, sends a prayer to the lip of the recipient, and starts a tear of happiness in the eye of the giver. I will never cease to sing the praises of pot-liquor as long as I live.
Under the Stars and Bars: A History of the Surry Light Artillery