Jacob Switzer's Memories of Camp Pope

I ought to give a sketch of camp life at “Camp Pope,” Iowa City, where my soldier life began. Camp Pope was located on the east side of Summit Street from north of Bowery Street to the Rock Island railroad. The parade and drill ground was on both sides of the railroad up to the front of Governor Kirkwood's house on Kirkwood Avenue. We were all heroes in the eyes of our mothers, sisters, and cousins. With wooden bayonets we challenged the salute of the wooden sword of the officer of the guard as that dignitary made his grand rounds night or day. We halted the fierce school boy as he endeavored to “run the guard line” with his basket of homemade candy, fruit or pies to sell to the unwary veteran for his delectation. We made the day vibrate with the calls of “Corporal of the Guard, Post Number Nine,” passing the call around from the farthest post to keep that High Muck-a-muck alive to the importance of the high private on his solitary post and his importance to the safety of this command, to supply his constant need of a chew of tobacco, a drink of water, or to take his gun and keep the enemy at bay, while the private had a private “confab” with his best girl who had just called to see him a few minutes.

It was with a very squeamish stomach that I first took my tin cup, tin plate, tin spoon, and iron knife and fork and went to the soup house for my rations. I looked at the cooks, greasy, dirty, slovenly; and then at the provisions and wondered of what the soup was composed. It didn't seem to me just like “Mother used to cook” but whether I ate or not the meal time only lasted a few minutes and I had other things to think of. One day Mother and the girls and neighbors’ girls set us a dinner of good things outside the lines—such as we saw so little of for many weary months after.