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THE IMMORTAL SIX HUNDRED
Hundred who kept the faith unto the end, as they did in those days of corn meal and pickle rations. We can never forget the dog meat, the cat and rat meat—the luxury of our starving men. Print, in large black letters, the names of those fellows who took the oath. They made this roll of dishonor themselves; they elected to wear the badge of dishonor; why should we shield them now?
Your letters are always welcome. They bring me sunshine. I have written my brother, Maj. Albert Akers, who lives in Washington City, to hunt you up and meet you when he goes to Winchester. God bless you and bless yours. May He, in His mercy, permit us to meet once more on this side of the picket line of life.
Affectionately your comrade,
P. B. Akers.
P. B. Akers.
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