the early days of barrack life, men talked of returning home to
celebrate Thanksgiving, but after October had begun to decline it became
evident that these fond hopes were not to be realized.

Then the inventive Yankee proceeded to devise means to give thanks in
the good old fashioned way in spite of climate and strange country. The
Luzon turkey in all respects does not compare favorably with his
American cousin, yet he is "turkey," and that goes a great way when it
comes to celebrating Thanksgiving.

It was upon this peculiar species of the feathered race that the
batterymen fastened their attentions. Turkeys were secured, and they
served as a nucleus about which all preparations centered. Several weeks
prior to the gala day most elaborate arrangements were made. The
soldiers gathered in knots and discussed the coming event. It had a
particular interest with them as they anticipated something more
palatable than the ordinary "hardtack and slum-gullion." Nor were their
expectations disappointed, for, when the day came in all its glory, the
commissary had proved itself equal to the occasion. All the powers of
the culinary art had been brought to bear upon the leathery tendons of
this turkey of the East. It had been fried and flayed until the very air
of the barracks became aromatic with its savor. Even the hungry natives
scented the perfumed air and gathered at the entrances to inspect the
delicacies more closely.

At length the tables were prepared and the ravenous warriors seated
themselves. Then were the victuals attacked with vigor; the enemy
brought forth all his fighting force; he assaulted the front with deadly
effect; simultaneously he attacked the flank and the rear; he cut, he
hacked, he slashed, he dissected and tore, until there was nothing left
of his victim but the skeleton, and even this he eyed ravenously. Of
course there were pies and cakes and cranberries and fruits and greens
and vegetables, and they, too, suffered. Of the squash family there were
not a few, the favorite pumpkin was wanting, but then the lack of it had
been long since supplied by the desiccated potato, and the consumer felt
no secret pangs at its absence. Thus Thanksgiving passed on and
Christmas came with its bevy of holiday boxes, and its "Peace on earth
good will to men;" but while the American was still thinking of the
light of peace, there came the low rumbling of impending gloom; his ears
were startled by the distant thunder o