THE IMMORTAL SIX HUNDRED
cook stoves but once each day—at noon—so that the prisoner who was not ready-to cook his meal when the fire was started, ate it raw or let it alone until noon next day, when the fire would be again started. And bear in mind, my reader, it was rotten corn meal, without salt, meat, or grease to flavor it with.
The drinking water was excellent, obtained from the fort cisterns. There was no fuel allowed us for fires during the day, yet some of our men would manage to get hold of a chunk of coal, and with an old camp kettle, they constructed stoves, and kept the atmosphere just above the freezing point. We had no blankets to keep us warm at night, and our beds were hard pine boards with no soft side. No idea can be formed of our condition while we remained at Fort Pulaski. On Christmas day, 1864, the snow on the fort parade ground was four inches deep, and we prisoners of war had neither fire, blankets, nor clothing to shield us from the rigors of the winter weather.
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