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.