Camp fires and camp cooking — A Reader’s Guide
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CAMP FIRES AND CAMP COOKING;
CULINARY HINTS FOR THE SOLDIER:
RECEIPT FOR MAKING BREAD IN THE “PORTABLE FIELD OVEN” FURNISHED BY THE SUBSISTENCE DEPARTMENT.
CAPTAIN JAMES M. SANDERSON, COMMISSARY OF SUBSISTENCE OF VOLUNTEERS.
PUBLISHED FOR DISTRIBUTION TO THE TROOPS.
HEADQUARTERS “ARMY OF THE POTOMAC,” January, 1862.
WASHINGTON: GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE. 1862.
CAMP FIRES AND CAMP COOKING.
In making up the following receipts, the author has been actuated by a desire to aid the efforts of those of his countrymen who, with the best intentions, lack the knowledge to utilize them; and having personally assisted in the concoction of the various dishes he treats of, using only camp fires, camp kettles, and soldiers’ rations, he knows that a little attention on the part of any sensible man--and none other should ever attempt to cook--will produce the most savory and gratifying results.
CAMP COOKING AND CAMP KETTLES.
The utensils and means furnished by government to the soldier for preparing his food are of the most primitive character. The former consist of camp kettles, made of iron, with a handle, and varying in size from four to seven gallons, (they should be made so as to have one slide into the other, in nests of four,) and mess pans, also of iron, about 12 inches in diameter, and sloping to the bottom. The latter consist of a certain amount of wood per diem, which is to be consumed as taste or ingenuity may dictate. The usual and most simple mode is to dig a trench 18 inches wide, 12 inches deep, and from four to six feet long. At each end plant a forked stick of equal height, with a stout sapling, from which to suspend the kettles, extending from one to the other.
This, however, is neither the best nor most economical mode, as it consumes much fuel, wastes much of the heat, and causes great inconvenience to the cook. An improvement can be effected by casing the sides of the trench with brick, adding a little chimney at one end, and, in place of the forked sticks, using iron uprights and cross-bar, to which half a dozen hooks for hanging kettles are attached.
In a clayey soil, the plan adopted by the salt boilers of New York is perhaps the neatest, most economical, and most convenient that can be devised. They dig a hole about three feet square and two feet in depth, generally in the slope of a hill. On one side they run a shaft laterally, about one foot square and six feet in length, and one foot from the surface of the ground. At the extreme end they sink a shaft vertically, and form a chimney; and at equi-distances they pierce three holes of sufficient diameter to prevent the kettles from slipping through. By this mode the kettles can be placed over the fire to boil--or on either side, to simmer--with less difficulty than by any other means.
Besides the allowance from government, however, the company cooks should be furnished, from the “Company Fund,” with two large iron spoons, two large iron forks, two stout knives, one tin cullender and one yard of flannel; also a false tin bottom, closely fitting the kettles; for all of which the cook should be responsible.
No army in the world is so well provided for, in the shape of food, either as to quantity or quality, as the army of the United States, and very little attention on the part of the cook will enable him to lay up a liberal amount weekly to the credit of the Company Fund. No one man can consume his daily ration, although many waste it; and a systematic issue will, in a great measure, prevent unnecessary extravagance.
Cleanliness is next to godliness, both in persons and kettles: be ever industrious, then, in scouring your pots. Much elbow grease, a few ashes, and a little water, are capital aids to the careful cook. Better wear out your pans with scouring than your stomachs with purging; and it is less dangerous to work your elbows than your comrade’s bowels. Dirt and grease betray the poor cook, and destroy the poor soldier; whilst health, content, and good cheer should ever reward him who does his duty and keeps his kettles clean. In military life, punctuality is not only a duty, but a necessity, and the cook should always endeavor to be exact in time. Be sparing with sugar and salt, as a deficiency can be better remedied than an overplus.
Captain James M. Sanderson, Commissary of Subsistence of Volunteers, wrote this 1862 manual for soldiers of the Army of the Potomac who, as he puts it, “lack the knowledge to utilize” their rations. The book is not a general cookbook but a tightly focused guide to making the best of government-issued provisions and equipment. Sanderson insists that “none other should ever attempt to cook” but a sensible man, and he backs this claim with detailed, hands-on instructions born of his own experience “using only camp fires, camp kettles, and soldiers’ rations.”
Primitive Tools, Ingenious Workarounds
The opening pages confront the soldier-cook with the stark reality of his equipment: iron camp kettles holding four to seven gallons, mess pans, and a daily wood allowance. Sanderson immediately critiques the standard trench fire—18 inches wide, 12 deep, four to six feet long—as wasteful of fuel and heat. He offers two improvements: lining the trench with brick and adding a chimney, or, in clay soil, adopting the New York salt boilers’ method of a three-foot-square pit with a lateral shaft and three kettle holes. These alternatives are not mere suggestions; they are presented as necessary corrections to a flawed system. The emphasis falls on economy and convenience, not on rustic charm.
Precision in Coffee and Bread
Sanderson devotes careful attention to coffee, a staple of soldier morale. He instructs the cook to “measure out carefully so many rations of water, adding five for lee-way” and to strain the brew through flannel to avoid “dust formed by grinding it.” The tea recipe is equally exacting: boil water over a “bright, clear fire,” steep the leaves briefly in a covered vessel, then let the kettle stand near the fire for five minutes before serving. The bread-making section, contributed by baker Frank M. Lockwood of the 23rd New York Volunteers, is a multi-step process requiring a “Shiras oven,” scrupulously clean tubs, and a yeast starter made from hops, flour, and malt. Lockwood’s bread had been “frequently praised by the general commanding the division,” a detail that underscores the manual’s grounding in actual army practice.
Cleanliness as a Military Virtue
Throughout the receipts, Sanderson returns to the theme of cleanliness with an insistence that borders on the obsessive. For yeast-making, tubs must be “faultlessly clean and well scalded,” all tins and kettles “carefully scoured and free from grease.” The ferment for bread involves boiling potatoes with their skins on, then mashing them in a barrel “kept exclusively for that purpose.” This is not domestic advice; it is a survival tactic in a setting where spoiled food could incapacitate a unit. Sanderson’s tone is that of a quartermaster who has seen the consequences of sloppy preparation. He does not romanticize camp life but treats cooking as a technical problem to be solved by methodical attention to detail.
Sanderson’s manual is best read as a period artifact of military logistics, not as a modern cookbook. Readers interested in Civil War material culture will find its diagrams and equipment lists revealing. Those attempting the recipes should note that the quantities—peck and a half of potatoes, six quarts of yeast—are scaled for hundreds of men. The underlying principles of heat management, sanitation, and careful measurement, however, translate to any outdoor cooking context.
That rainy afternoon, Sanderson’s insistence on burning only what was needed—a careful, practical frugality—stayed with me long after I closed the manual. It was the same quiet patience I found later, almost by accident, when I picked up Kitchen Tested Recipes from Canned Foods — Key Ideas to Explore. Both books trust that simple, honest effort makes a meal, even when the cupboard looks bare.
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