who could afford it, took their food elsewhere: the restaurants in
the vicinity did a roaring trade, and several new ones were opened. A
petition was written; the men signed it, and decided to send it to
the colonel; but the N.C.O.'s stepped in and destroyed the document.
"You'll not do much good at the front," they told us, "if you are
grumbling already."

A week followed the destruction of the petition, and then appeared the
following in Battalion Orders: "From to-morrow until further orders,
rations will be issued at the men's billets." This announcement caused
no little sensation, aroused a great deal of comment, and created a
profound feeling of satisfaction in the battalion. Thenceforth rations
were served out at the billets, and the householders were ordered
to do the cooking. My landlady was delighted. "Not half feeding you;
that's a game," she said. "And you going to fight for your country!
But wait till you see the dishes I'll make out of the rations when
they come."

The rations came. In the early morning a barrow piled with eatables
was dragged through our street, and the "ration fatigue" party, full
of the novelty of a new job, yelled in chorus, "Bring out your dead,
ladies; rations are 'ere!"

"What have you got?" asked my landlady, going to the door. "What are
you supposed to leave for the men? Nothing's too good for them that's
going to fight for their country."

"Dead rats," said the ration-corporal with a grin.

"Don't be funny. What are my men to get?"