The powers that were had an uncanny knack of issuing an odd number of articles to go among an even number of men, and vice versa.  There would be eleven loaves of bread to go to a platoon of fifty men divided into four sections.  Some of the sections would have ten men and some twelve or thirteen.

The British Tommy is a scrapper when it comes to his rations.  He reminds me of an English sparrow.  He’s always right in there wangling for his own.  He will bully and browbeat if he can, and he will coax and cajole if he can’t.  It would be “Hi sye, corporal.  They’s ten men in Number 2 section and fourteen in ourn.  An’ blimme if you hain’t guv ’em four loaves, same as ourn.  Is it right, I arsks yer?  Is it?” Or,

“Lookee!  Do yer call that a loaf o’ bread?  Looks like the A.S.C.  (Army Service Corps) been using it fer a piller.  Gimme another, will yer, corporal?”

When it comes to splitting seven onions nine ways, I defy any one to keep peace in the family, and every doggoned Tommy would hold out for his onion whether he liked ’em or not.  Same way with a bottle of pickles to go among eleven men or a handful of raisins or apricots.  Or jam or butter or anything, except bully beef or Maconochie.  I never heard any one “argue the toss” on either of those commodities.

Bully is high-grade corned beef in cans and is O.K. if you like it, but it does get tiresome.

Maconochie ration is put up a pound to the can and bears a label which assures the consumer that it is a scientifically prepared, well-balanced ration.  Maybe so.  It is my personal opinion that the inventor brought to his task an imperfect knowledge of cookery and a perverted imagination.  Open a can of Maconochie and you find a gooey gob of grease, like rancid lard.  Investigate and you find chunks of carrot and other unidentifiable material, and now and then a bit of mysterious meat.  The first man who ate an oyster had courage, but the last man who ate Maconochie’s unheated had more.  Tommy regards it as a very inferior grade of garbage.  The label notwithstanding, he’s right.

Many people have asked me what to send our soldiers in the line of food.  I’d say stick to sweets.  Cookies of any durable kind—­I mean that will stand chance moisture—­the sweeter the better, and if possible those containing raisins or dried fruit.  Figs, dates, etc., are good.  And, of course, chocolate.  Personally, I never did have enough chocolate.  Candy is acceptable, if it is of the sort to stand more or less rough usage which it may get before it reaches the soldier.  Chewing gum is always received gladly.  The army issue of sweets is limited pretty much to jam, which gets to taste all alike.

It is pathetic to see some of the messes Tommy gets together to fill his craving for dessert.  The favorite is a slum composed of biscuit, water, condensed milk, raisins, and chocolate.  If some of you folks at home would get one look at that concoction, let alone tasting it, you would dash out and spend your last dollar for a package to send to some lad “over there.”