Memorial Day! I would have forgotten it if someone hadn’t reminded me.
It was just another day in here, but still I had to serve something a little extra for lunch. But what?
At breakfast I instructed my three companions to save part of their corn-meal mush. Then, swallowing what pride I had left, I went on a reconnaissance tour of my rich friends who kept house in comfortable shanties. As delicately as possible, I hinted for a handout. From one friend I received a can of tomato sauce, and from another a clove of garlic, a pepper, and a large onion.
Although the mush didn’t harden for frying purposes, it didn’t stop me. I fried it anyway, and the result looked like a thick and gooey wallpaper paste. The next problem was camoullage, to give it eye appeal. Atter drowning the mess with tomato sauce and the other handouts, we ate our Memorial Day lunch and enjoyed every bite.
The ban on singing patriotic songs apparently had been lifted for when I reached my room after supper, I heard the voices of my fellow internees singing “God Bless America” and “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” with great feeling in the Father’s garden.
Memorial Day was remembered, after all!