Costly mischief or a dangerous mistake?

Arsenic poisoning is a medical condition that occurs due to elevated levels of arsenic in the body. If exposure occurs over a brief period of time symptoms may include vomiting, abdominal pain, encephalopathy, and watery diarrhea that contains blood. Symptoms of arsenic poisoning begin with headaches, confusion, severe diarrhea, and drowsiness.

When the poisoning becomes acute, symptoms may include diarrhea, vomiting, vomiting blood, blood in the urine, cramping muscles, hair loss, stomach pain, and more convulsions. The organs of the body that are usually affected by arsenic poisoning are the lungs, skin, kidneys, and liver. The final result of arsenic poisoning is coma and death.

The poisoning at the CCC camp is a true incident that took place in the 1930s. Arsenic poisoning can also happen due to long term exposure with smaller amounts of arsenic. It can result in thickening of the skin, darker skin, abdominal pain, diarrhea, heart disease, numbness, and cancer.

The most common reason for long-term exposure is contaminated drinking water that gets contaminated naturally due to the soil composition in an area, or by mining activities and agriculture. Arsenic acts via changing the functioning of around 200 enzymes. Diagnosis is by testing the urine, blood, or hair

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“What’s for breakfast today?” asked Keith gloomily. He wasn’t really gloomy about the breakfast; the work after having breakfast bothered him more.

“Waffles and porridge”, announced Hank, who sank into a seat beside him, munching on a waffle himself. There were several others too, sitting around them, having their food, laughing and talking.
“Aahh!!” groaned Keith. “It’s always waffles and porridge!”

Hank grinned. “Well, what do you expect when you’re in the army?”

“Army? All we’ve got is the uniforms. What we do is farming and planting trees”, said Keith. “I’d have liked it better if I had a gun in my hand and was shooting down the enemy!”

“Whether he has a gun or a spade in his hand, he isn’t going to move his fat bottom”, said Roland dryly. He had just entered the room with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Be grateful we’ve got food and earn enough to feed our families”, he growled, his face etched in a scowl.

All of them were enrollees at the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). It was the time of the ‘Great Depression’ – a time when America and several Western countries were reeling under a colossal economic slump, and the CCC was one of President Franklin Roosevelt’s programs to provide relief to the poor and salvage the economy.

The enrollees worked towards restoring America’s natural resources, proper farming practices and building infrastructure, and in return they received employment and some much-needed financial support. Known as “Roosevelt’s Tree Army”, it was made up of young men of the States who had been left unemployed due to the Depression.

“Aren’t you having any breakfast Roland?” asked Hank, as he poured a generous amount of maple syrup on his waffles.

“Nothing for me, thank you”, said Roland as he walked away. “Have your fill, though. We’ll probably be working on Field C today, and lunch is going to get late.”

“Field C? Of course it will get late! That’s so far out and the food will probably run out by the time we’re back”, grumbled Keith.

“Can you think of anything other than food?” asked Hank, passing Keith a bowl of porridge.

“Yes I can”, said Keith. “the Maple Syrup. Pass it on, it’s the only thing that makes this porridge edible.”

Keith made a face.

“Syrup is food, too, by the way”, said Hank. “But there’s something darn wrong with this syrup. It tastes funny to me!”

“It tastes absolutely alright”, said Keith, spooning out his porridge with great relish. “It’s sweeter than usual, I suppose. I like it sweet.”

“You like food that’s too sweet to digest”, muttered Hank, but finished his breakfast anyway, and waited for Keith to join him.

By the time they reached Field C, Keith was panting and sweating. “I hate this job”, he complained.

“My job at the theatre was so much better. I give the tickets for half an hour, and then I stay idle and watch the play for the next two hours. Why can’t I do something like that over here?”

“Write a letter to FDR”, teased Hank. “How can the President ignore the great Keith’s words?”

“I feel sick”, said Keith, flopping down on the ground. “My stomach’s paining.” To Hank’s surprise, Keith lay down on the ground, moaning. “I think I’m going to throw up.”He retched.

Roland came towards them. He was their in-charge. “He hasn’t even begun working yet. What’s he doing that for?”

But Hank couldn’t reply. He felt dizzy and nauseous himself. “I … I feel sick too”, said Hank in a weak voice. He collapsed too, and Roland was alarmed.

“Call the doctor!” he ordered. “Someone pass on the message!”

Within a few minutes, forty three of the workers, who had taken their breakfast at the same table as Hank and Keith, were down with the same symptoms: nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and cramps. All of them were shifted to the local hospital while the commanding officer began a probe.

“Looks like it’s food poisoning”, Roland told the officer. “I didn’t have breakfast, or else I might have taken ill too.”

“But the waffles and the porridge were the same as those provided in the other common rooms”, said the officer.

“There was this .. maple syrup they were having”, said Roland. “We should probably get it tested.” A few hours later, the lab reports came back. “Arsenic!” said the commanding officer with shock on his face. “But how can this happen? Where were the cans taken from?”

Roland traced the journey of that simple syrup can from the pantry to the table. The cook’s assistant had placed the syrup cans in the common rooms. “I was one short of 40 … and I thought I’d hafta maybe split one bottle’s syrup in half, like…” he started.

“Cut it short”, said Roland sharply. “Did you get a new can out, or did you use an old one?”

“Neither, Officer”, said the boy. “I saw this lying there just outside the kitchen door, and I thought to meself, ‘here, now, someone’s gone and thrown away a perfectly good can of syrup’, and I picked it up and put it with the others…”

“That there can was put out by me”, came another voice. “Who asked yer to go and take it?”
Roland turned to find the second kitchen assistant walking up. “Where were you all this while? And what was in that can?” he asked sharply.

“It was my day off, officer”, said the boy, an insolent look on his face. “That can contains fly poison. That camp commander- what’s his name- he’s gone now- he made it two months ago… mixed it in that bottle. What’s happened, officer?”

Roland looked at the bottle carefully. There was no label, no marking that indicated it was a poison. And the can looked remarkably similar to the syrup bottles. How unfortunate that a camp officer had been so irresponsible!

“You’ll mark the poison bottles from now on!” commanded Roland. “And you, no picking up random bottles and sending them to the table!”

Five days later, Hank and Keith were back at work. Everyone was asking them if they were well, and Keith loved the attention. “Didn’t I tell you I like sweet stuff?” he told Hank. “It got me a well-deserved, five-day rest…”

“After almost killing you!” finished Hank.