Atlanta Georgian., 1913-10-19
Mrs. G. J. Foreacre, Wife Of the Provost Mar
shal Who Had Price on His Head, Recalls
Her Fears and Privations and Incidentally
a Turkey Costing $15O in War Times.
By MRS. G. J. FoREACRE.

OUBTLESS many of u.s. If not all. who
are beyond the meridian of life, live
- principally in the past. And this think
must be especially true of those of here who
went through the years of the great war, and
whose experiences during that time, in the in
vaded country, left indelible impressions on our
memories While our husbands We're away
fighting for the cause which was so inexpress-
IDLY dear to us, we were in most instances, as
you all know, the women of the COnfederacy,
waging a warfare literally with foes within
and foes without" The foes within were those
that threatened our households, and our chill
dren's health and happiness from day to day,
and more and more severely as the length Of
the struggle exhausted the resources Of the
South. l refer to the actual scarcity of food,
and the difficulty of obtaining clothing. We
were all too sadly familiar in those days with
the expedients of supplying variety for the ia
BILE, where no variety existed for me to 60 into
much detail
We parched sweet potatoes and made coffee
from them, that II not as satisfactory as the
Mocha and Java of former years, at least took
its place on our daily list of things for the
table. | think one minded the giving up Of
luXuries, it was gladly and willingly done, the
more so when thought of our gallant army
at the front ana remembered JIle SCdHJ TdllOlS
on which they were living while they were set
ting an example of bravery and gallant fighting
second to none the world has ever seen 1t was
hard, however, to see the children of the house
hold ask for some simple addition to the plain
food, and realize that even that was beyond our
power of obtaining. One of the most painful
recollectiOns that l have of that, or any other
time of my life, the day when my little
son asked at the table for little more of the
sorghum which had taken the place of the New
Orleans molasses months before. The servant
waiting ON the table lifted the pitcher, it was
empty, and | we'll knew there was more to
bad In devastated country The child, still
insistent stopped the servant as he was about
to take the syrup pitcher away, and seizing 1t,
turned it up side down, and said in his baby
way, Hold it. Zeke | see drop"
1t is Incidents OF this kind, and many others
thrOnging into my mind, that make me Shudder
when read of i'll any part of the world.
The mention of the winning or loss of battle,
or the movement of the troops, means just that
much to people who have never lived through
a war, but to the women of the South, the mere
mention Of such things becomes suddenly illumi-
mated with feelings fifty years Old-Of heart
breaking anxiety for the safety of husbands,
brothers and cousins at the front days of de-
spair for our beloved cause, nights filled with
anxiety for what the days would bring forth
in the way of privation for the children, and
servants still dependent us.
One more incident of that time which will
serve a contrast between peace and war.
There is a road to the southeast of Atlanta
that in the sixties red and rugged to the
door of my country home, Ashby in DeKalb
County. From the immediate neighborhood my
husband had raised his company Company B,
Seventh Georgia Regiment) and had gone to the