War Is Hell (For Drinking)

The Wall Street Journal's always reliable Eric Felten has the perfect anecdote and the perfect drink for a proper Veterans Day salute:

In the hopes of ending the war for good -- and decommissioning the Southern soldiers in such a way that they didn't disperse into troublesome guerrilla forces -- Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman met at a farm in North Carolina with Confederate Gen. Joseph Johnston and the South's Secretary of War, John Breckinridge. The effort almost foundered then and there, all for the want of a glass of whiskey.

"You know how fond of his liquor Breckinridge was," Johnston would recount years later. Confederate stores of drink had long been exhausted, and the foraging armies had drunk the countryside dry. "For several days, Breckinridge had found it difficult, if not impossible, to procure liquor," Johnston said. "He showed the effect of his enforced abstinence. He was rather dull and heavy that morning."

That is, until Sherman showed up. The Union general arrived with a well-provisioned saddlebag: "Gentlemen," Sherman declared, "it occurred to me that perhaps you were not overstocked with liquor, and I procured some medical stores on my way over. Will you join me before we begin work?"

It was a good start. Breckinridge "poured a tremendous drink, which he swallowed with great satisfaction." He perked up immediately -- and a perky Breckinridge was an impressive sight. Vice president in James Buchanan's administration, Breckinridge had been one of the smoothest and sharpest lawyers in the country.

Fortified, "Breckinridge never shone more brilliantly than he did in the discussions which followed," Johnston said. "He seemed to have at his tongue's end every rule and maxim of international and constitutional law."

Breckinridge was on such a roll that Sherman finally pushed back his chair and blurted: "See here, gentlemen, who is doing this surrendering anyhow?" Flummoxed, Sherman went back to the saddlebag and retrieved the bottle of whiskey. What followed nearly extended the war by months.

Sherman, "preoccupied, perhaps unconscious of his action," proceeded to pour himself -- and only himself -- a drink. He put the bottle away in his saddlebag, and lost in thought "sipped his grog." Breckinridge watched in disbelief. According to Johnston, his "face changed successively to uncertainty, disgust, and deep depression."

When Sherman came out of his reverie, he agreed to a comprehensive peace settlement, the terms of which were far more generous than Johnston or Breckinridge could possibly have hoped for -- generous enough that they would get Sherman into trouble with the White House. Breckinridge should have been jumping for joy. Instead, he was bitter and glum.

"General Johnston," Breckinridge said as the two left the meeting, "General Sherman is a hog. Yes, sir, a hog. Did you see him take that drink by himself?" he sputtered. "No Kentucky gentleman would ever have taken away that bottle."

Indeed. Felten goes on to suggest a drink to toast the troops:

But most of that drink's ingredients -- the brandy, curaçao (of which Cointreau is a type) and champagne -- can be found in the punch of the Seventh Regiment, a New York National Guard unit that became the 107th Infantry in 1917. Rounded out with lemon juice, sugar and maraschino liqueur -- perfectly balanced between sweet and tart -- it is refreshing and well designed for use in a succession of toasts.

SEVENTH REGIMENT PUNCH

½ oz. brandy
¼ oz. curaçao
¼ oz. maraschino liqueur
½ oz. lemon juice
½ oz. simple (sugar) syrup
3 oz. chilled champagne

Shake all ingredients except for champagne with ice and strain into a punch cup or goblet. Add champagne and stir gently. Garnish with fresh seasonal fruit.

This Veterans Day weekend, let's make up some Seventh Regiment Punch and toast the men and women who fight, and who have fought, so that the rest of us can enjoy such simple pleasures.