Sidney D. Light's WWI Diary, Postcards & Letters, 329th Battery Book Accounts

       In the early part of our training each man received careful instructions in preparing emergency rations. It is doubtless well that those instructions never had to be recalled.. Our regiment always enjoyed the best of health. It seemed to be part of the basic principle upon which the whole army was built that each job, inasmuch as was possible, was to be a one-man job. The development of specialists included, and at the very top of the list, cooks. We had regular cooks who did nothing but cook and they were just good enough to rank high in their specialty among members of a regiment that when weighed in the balance were not found wanting.

        Back in the training areas in the United States the batteries bought their own food supplies, complying always with the approved ration allowance. The available market products made a variation in the daily menu easy and the mess fund was available when the fellows wanted a little something extra.

        In those days we had a regular mess hall and waiters and all that goes to make up an A No. 1 garrison mess. In after days we learned to appreciate such a mess more than it was ever supposed we would. It was not like home but it wasn’t like France either.

        The real conquests by the cooks and mess sergeants didn’t begin until we reached France. On the way over we were fed by the boat’s crew. No one in the outfit is responsible for that food and we don’t hate anybody in it anyhow so let the matter drop there. In France the regulation red tape connected with drawing and issuing rations entwined itself about every one from the regimental mess sergeant to the truck driver who hauled the food to the supply company. The greater the quantity drawn the more intricate the tanglings and some idea of the quantity necessary for one week’s rations may be gained by the fact that for the handling of it there was detailed eighteen service wagons, seventy-two army mules, thirty-six mule skinners and at least twenty men to load and unload the rations.

        If the tin cans in which the food was shipped across the ocean to the army were to be given to the boys they could build a house of tin and doubtless would have enough left over to build a garage, and if all the cows it took to fill those cans were herded together no ranch in the whole west could hold them.

        Depending upon circumstances entirely, it remained to know how to draw rations. For instance, the regiment is on the move and stops over night at a little station wherein there is only a rail head, such as was the case at the little town of Nanois, France. A report is submitted to the regimental supply office of the strength of the organization taken from the morning report and from it a ration return is drawn and submitted to the rail head officer who issues one day’s rations.

        What is a ration return? It is a certificate made on Q. M. C. form stating the number of men in the regiment, the number of rations required and the kind desired—either field, garrison or travel. This is signed by the commanding officer and becomes an official requisition for food. Take, for example the average ration return and the details involved in the correct distribution to the batteries of the food drawn.

        This memorandum is sent to each battery: "Submit ration return for the period January 31^st, 1919 , to February 6^th, 1919, both dates inclusive, seven day period. Return must be at this office by noon today."

        The data thus obtained is consolidated and the rations are drawn, and then comes the real work of the man in charge of the regimental rations.

        The next day sees an interesting sight in the ration room. Bacon and bread go sailing out the door to the little ration carts, past the mess sergeant’s nose, much the same as the farmer feeds his cattle. Beans and macaroni go scooting past the K. P. Rice and cornmeal, breakfast menu for seven days, fresh beef and potatoes—dinner for another period.

        You can see the ears of all the mess sergeants go up much the same as the ears of a mule at the sight of steam when he hears. "120 lbs. of jam, check; 2 5 lbs. butter, check; 300 lbs. sugar, check; Velvet smoking, today, boys, two packs to a man." Then watch their ears fall when you tell them they’ve got to take the soap whether they want it or not, everything on the issue slip goes. The official signature of the mess sergeant goes on the bottom and the Battery is "setting pretty" for seven more days, maybe.

        Books could be written of the conversations that could be heard in the ration room, as well as on the outside, while the details were discussing and condemning the menus and recipes of their mess sergeants. For instance, one fellow will swear by all that is good and holy that he and the Battery have been eating beans and beans only for four successive days. Another will say he has had for breakfast nothing but the south side of a sow for two months. One with a little more humor and love for the good old Army Rumor will say that his mess sergeant is a wizard with a gang of eats. He will swear that they have had hot cakes for breakfast, steaks for dinner and cake with chocolate frosting for supper. That fellow will be regarded with a certain suspicion the rest of the day. Get inside and the air is blue. Curses, imagine them? "How the h— am I going to feed that gang mush without extra milk? I don’t see why in h— they don’t give us more milk and less soap. D’you know the French only give 3 francs for 2 bars of that stuff?" About that time in comes Zucka, sergeant, Battery A. "Hello, gang! Say, what the h—, do we get corned beef today?" Then confidential like, "Say, d’you hear the latest, we’re going to move next week." And so it goes until about noon when the roar cools off and the smoke of the battle clears up. Then around come the stragglers. "Say, did you see my coffee go on my ration cart?" And it’s ten to one he wants some extra coffee. He doesn’t get it.

        The humorous side of the situation is easily seen, the work involved is easily realized, but the expense of the work, including the price of the rations handed out, is hardly recognized. It may be said that at each period rations to the extent of thousands of dollars are passed out with less thought than of a newsboy selling his extras.

        Take the period January 31^st, 1919, to February 6^th, 1919. It totaled a return of 10,303 rations. Let us see what that means in beef alone, or the component parts that go to make up the meat issue of the ration—50% of the total was fresh beef; 30% was bacon, 20% was corned beef; 50% of 10,303 is 5,151 rations, at 20 ozs. to a ration, totally 6, 439 lbs. Fresh beef at the estimated price of 25 cents per pound would involve $1,609.75; 30% of the total 10,303 is 3,091 rations, at 12 ozs. per ration, total 2, 318, at the estimated price of 50 cents per lb., total money value $1,159.00; 20% of the total 10,303 is 2, 061 rations, at 18 ozs. per ration, a total of 2,061 lbs., at 30 cents per lb., $619.30. Considering only estimate prices and low, modest prices at that, it is easy to see that the cost of the ration alone is astounding, not to consider the expense of transportation.

        In order to make an issue of rations a Table of Allowance is necessary, first to give to each organization that is drawing rations a certain amount as well as a certain variety of food.

        A close study of some of these tables would show that it is a tremendous task as well as a mammoth expense to feed an army of a million men.

        A closer study of just who was responsible for the full mess kits will be obtained by the mention of a few of the names of the responsible parties.

Headquarters Co.---Sgt. J. Hirchman, a big fellow with a good heart and a good smelling kitchen. A mighty nice fellow and a well liked mess sergeant.

Supply Co.—Sgt. F. Williams, not so large in size but possessed of a way of talking a commissary out of anything he wanted. I ate at his kitchen and I know that he served a mess that would suit anyone, even a "frog."

Battery "A"—Sgt. P. Zucka, another big fellow who claimed for himself speed in action, especially at mess time when a straggler blew in town. You could sick ‘em on Pete and he always fed ‘em.

Battery "B"—Sgt. W. Holzer, small but fast on his feet, dark in complexion but a white "guy" all the way through. Not a bad kicker, not a hard knocker, but a wizard at dishing out "Hot Cakes" and "Bacon." An all around good feeder and a happy soldier.

Battery "C"—Sgt. P. Di Laura, a real man with his heart and his soul in his work. A good provider and a fellow that got his share and saw that his men got their share. A little bit "old-fashioned" but a king in the kitchen.

Battery "D"— Sgt. J. Brown, happy Irish, easy going, hard working, good natured and everything else that goes in the making of a man that can stand the "gaff" in a kitchen surrounded by hungry artillerymen.

Battery "E"—Sgt. G. Tighe, the smallest mess sergeant alive. If they had built Tighe for heavy duty he could have fed the regiment steaks, doughnuts, hot cakes and pie, every day menu of Battery "E."

Battery "F"—Sgt. H. Stanley. A sergeant with many friends and a "Notorious Battery to back him up." A kitchen over a "Rathskeller" and a crew of cooks like a schooner. A big feeder and a man with a smile.

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