This speech had its desired effect, for, during our stay in Truckee, not a striker approached the camp. No doubt, when they saw our fierce and warlike appearance, they fled to their mountain fastnesses, not to return “till the flying of the snow.”
COMPANY B’S KITCHEN AT TRUCKEE, CAL., JULY, 1894.
We arrived in Truckee at 10:15 P. M. Our cars, with two freight-cars, were side-tracked and became our home while there. The cars were tourist cars, and we were therefore able to make ourselves very comfortable. It was a luxury to sleep on a mattress once more.
Thursday morning, July 19th, was ushered in with the regular camp routine, roll-call, Captain’s speech, and breakfast. Clifford, with the aid of our head cook, Paul Rupp, had a breakfast prepared for us, consisting of fried ham and bacon, bread and butter, and coffee. We dined standing. Each man, before leaving Sacramento, was provided with a tin cup, knife, fork, spoon, and plate, and, of course, was supposed to see to the cleaning thereof himself, the result being that the dishwashing detail was done away with altogether—a great improvement indeed. The cleaning of pots and pans was looked after by the culinary department.
It may be just as well here to preface the history of our week at Truckee with a short account of the trials and tribulations of those who presided over the culinary department, together with the trials and tribulations of those who looked to it for three meals a day. For the first three days, Thursday, Friday,and Saturday, all meals were cooked at camp. A kitchen was improvised in the road by the side of the cars, a wind-break erected, and a fireplace built. Sergeant Sturdivant was appointed commissary for the company, and in a short time was able to quote prices on canned goods and other kinds of provisions. He tried to do his best, poor man, but overlooked the fact that life was a howling wilderness to the dudes of the company without milk and sugar for their coffee and butter for their bread. There always seemed to be a great shortage in these articles. The tall sergeant explained this matter by stating that the lack of railroad communication was the cause in one case, and a scarcity of cows the cause in the other.
Sergeant Clifford, Musician Paul Rupp, and an able assistant developed in the person of Gus Ungerman, an old-time cook, who went about the pots and pans in a very professional way, presided over the kitchen. The great waves of disgust caused by internal strife and outward “kicking” occasioned the tendering of daily, or we might say “mealy,” resignations of some one of the cooks. It is needless to say that the resignations were not accepted. Heated arguments with any of our cooks was out of the question; they were all able-bodied men, and were invariably armed with a stout ladle or long cooking-fork, which they flourished in a most threatening manner.
At meal hours, or at times when the cooks started to prepare the meal, the adjustable tables in the cars were lowered, tin cups, tin plates, knives, forks, and spoons were put in place, and each man jack sat with a wolfish appetite and impatiently waited for an hour or more the arrival of the food. The waiters’ lives were not happy ones; fortunately they were relieved every day, or the chances are we would have developed a number of raving maniacs.
The following is a pretty fair illustration of the service that prevailed: A man with a pot of mush dashes into the car yelling, “Who wants mush?” and, with a flourish of his ladle, goes down the aisle filling the outstretched plates. Close on his heels comes another man with a pot of potatoes bawling, “Who wants murphies?” Another meanders through with fried meats of some kind.
All this time the men are shrieking for milk and sugar for their mush. The coffee now makes its appearance, and men, whose cups had mysteriously disappeared, have been known to offer their plates as a receptacle for this dark colored fluid. The bread puts in its appearance now, but no butter. Meanwhile, from the car windows, the hungry soldiery are hurling anathemas at the bewildered waiters, or beseeching them for an extra allowance of stew or a little more hash, a conglomeration that would give an ostrich the dyspepsia. Finally, after the men in despair have waded through their mush, potatoes, coffee, and meat, the sugar and butter, with a very limited allowance of milk, put in their appearance. Men with foresight and taking ways committed the wholesale larceny of butter and sugar and took their chances as to the milk. Much butter and sugar seemed to stick to the long slender fingers of the learned McCulloch, who only let the replenishment of the inner man interfere with his study and discussion of recondite subjects. The strong military instinct of Burtis and Hayes impelled them to keep a good reserve of these dainties always on hand. Frequent battles took place upon the platforms, between rival waiters of each car, for the possession of some coveted pot of beans or stew, while the onlookers held their breath expecting every moment to see the contents of the pot dashed to the ground.