orderlies arrived festooned with parcels containing all kinds of
wonderful things crammed with all sorts of wonderful surprises. Life
in the General Staff Office resolved itself into four meals a day
between sweetmeats. The whole routine underwent a complete change.
Everyone who visited the place made, as a matter of course, a bee
line for the General Staff Canteen cupboard, and while searching for
the particular dainty he fancied broached the subject of his visit in
general terms. He then turned to the officer he was addressing and
politely offered him the kind of delicacy he thought would blend best
with the matter in hand.

And then Chockchaw arrived. It began by letting the G.S.O.3 down
badly the first day. All unsuspicious of its properties he rang up a
Division, popped a piece into his mouth and waited. In due time the
call came through, but no word could he utter. "Chockchaw lockjaw" had
set in. Only a horrible sound like the squelching of ten gum-boots in
the mud reached the indignant Staff at the other end. After a minute's
monologue they rang off in disgust.

Yet in spite of all difficulties the vogue of Chockchaw swept through
the Corps. It is such a ripe, rich, full-flavoured irresistible
concoction. Disadvantages there are, of course, but, on the other
hand, if you want to be quiet, it is easy to lure the unsuspecting
intruder on to Chockchaw and leave it at that. After vain efforts the
poor fellow usually creeps away like a cat with too big a bone and
chews himself back to speech round the corner. He seldom returns, and
if he does--there is always more Chockchaw. Should he refuse it this
time you can take a piece yourself and save the trouble of answering,
anyway.