Apple Cinnamon Bread

Dear Diary,
I have been shoved down to my limit, and I fear that I will crumble from the heaviness that follows from the war. The sting of defeat weighs both me and my regiment down. How am I to lift their spirits, when mine still lingers down? Though many months have passed since Bull Run, the war has not turned out a favor for us. I long for Amy and Father Alfred, yet I find that I miss most incredible apple cinnamon bread. It shocks me that God has chosen this for me. I find myself to be curious as I find little understanding of why my soul is so indefinitely pulled toward this festive treat. Could be because of the hardtack that I force to drag down my throat each night? The hard and clammy result of the combination of flour and water heated together only show our feeling of despair. Just thinking about my apple bread, makes me long for the sweet, tart taste in my mouth. I grow lonely thinking of how I used to go with Amy to pick apples. Beautiful red apples. I used to. I used to chop them apples and combine it with butter sugar cinnamon vanilla flour and baking powder. I can remember the comforting warmth of the bread, how it relieved me and Amy of the grief of losing our parents. My mind feels clear as I now grasp why God chose this path for me, for God new that apple bread would bring all aspects of my life together. I remember giving it out to the homeless, seeing their smiles light up the sky. Apple bread represents who I am, and who I must continue to be. This reminds me of what I joined the union to fight for. This reminds me that our fight today is our brother's freedom tomorrow.
I pray to the Lord,
Alvin Cobb
March 21, 1862

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

1865, I can’t find words

Dear, Kathryn  My English has been gettin better, and so has da civil war  I’ve been feelin better, with more food. But as da war is dissolving into its ends, it feels like the tearible memorys of flashbacks take over my sleep and dreams, turning it into nightmares. But I am glad to say, the Union has prettty much won. April 2, 1865, my brothers and I taken over Richmond and made the city fallen. Later on, as what I’ve heard our final battle was at Saylor’s Creek. Da union outnumbered General Lee.  General Grant and Lee should meet up in a few days, by the time you recivee this letter, The meetin might have possibly passed.  The war is dying, but I’m glad it is. For I got no words, I’m flooded with shock but let our chained brother be free. Your husband, (Private) Wilson. 
Read more

Hard Tack - 1862

Dear Mildred,                                                                                                          1862 What a year it has been. We have begun our descent into the Mississippi , a lane for the Union to split the Confederacy. Surely, this must be the end of the War. Fort Henry and Donelson are already in Union Hands. New Orleans has been taken. All that is left is Vicksburg. But there is something about this year that is terrible. I would have liked to see another soldier with the slightest possible chance of becoming more homesick than me. I miss our home. I miss our children. I miss your food. Particularly your food. Not that I would have preferred those conditions, but my slave rations were better than our hardtack rations. Exactly as they sound. They are an edible rock. I wonder how my teeth have not fallen out already. I use them for plates sometimes or skipping stones. So stale is it, my saliva evaporates. My body fluids are gone and I am left with a dr
Read more

1864 Blog- Edward Dunn

To Break the South We continue on We leave behind a trail Of splintered homes The women & children hide behind the burning fires Men glare and stare at the horizon Looking for grey But they are alone, defenseless Salvation is distant We plunder through, leaving behind our wake of destruction A rift through Georgia But why do we care for they are not broken? They continue on so we shut them down Their morale will prevail  Tenacious, they are  Their boldness infuriates me Why won't they break? I feel no shame They broke my brothers Vengeance is mine I let it all out They soon want no more They will drop their last glimmer of hope
Read more