As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.......
The interesting part of real history is the reality of it in how perverse it is. History when learned is always more startling than the fiction which is portrayed.
There was a war in America in the early 1800's called the Creek War. The Creeks were a powerful group of southern Indians and in the Solid South they went onto a butchering spree against Americans. This was the war which cemented Andrew Jackson as a military leader.
There was an even more famous American in the making in this war who left his two little boys and wife at home, in Davy Crockett.
Crockett was sent out as a Scout into the war country with a group of Rangers. Eventually they were sent into Alabama where the capital now sits as that was once a Creek village.
The Army volunteers made as surround and a battle and surrender took place by the Creeks. As Davy and the others came up to a Creek house where they had seen a group of warriors go into, a squaw on the porch pulled a bow and killed one of the Rangers.
The Americans were incensed over it and pretty well riddled the squaw with 20 bullets. The warriors or terrorists hiding inside were lit up as the house was started on fire, and some were shot down including a 12 year old boy who crawled outside and had the grease rendered out of him by the heat of the fire.
In an observation, the Creek must have been fat Indians to have the fat rendered out in that amount.
What followed the next day was something of interest, as Davy had been hunting for the command for some time, as they were low on food, and his group was on half rations of parched corn.
The quote as follows:
However we went back to our Indian town on the next day, when many of the carcasses of the Indians were still to be seen. They looked very awful, for the burning had not entirely consumed them, but given them a very terrible appearance, at least what remained of them. It was, somehow or other, found out that the house had a potatoe cellar under it, and an immediate examination was made, for we were all as hungry as wolves.
We found a fine chance of potatoes in it, and hunger compelled us to eat them, though I had a little rather not, if I could have helped it, for the oil of the Indians we had burned up on the day before had run down on them, and they looked like they had been stewed with fat meat.
Davy Crockett. A Narrative of the Life of David Crockett, of the State of Tennessee
I doubt that there has ever been another Congressman warrior who ever due to war starvation ever had a meal of fried potatoes created by human fat.
Ray Bradbury made infamous that wood burns at 451 degrees. So that Indian fat was rendered at, at least the temperature, and it ran down into those potatoes in the root cellar and cooked them well enough.
It was probably a better high energy meal than the Irish potatoes with milk as the Emerald Isle dined on, in grease and spuds was something that stuck with the ribs.
America just did not happen in all sugar and spice. It was a savage wilderness and the above is just one recorded example which would have been lost, except that Davy Crockett who had a hankering for telling the Truth of the matter, just happened to be there and record the reality as it was, like the majority of Americans experienced but never wrote it down.
"We commenced eating the beef-hides, and continued to eat every scrap we could lay our hands on."
Davy Crockett
agtG
