On Feeling Hungry at the Front
THE YPRES TIMES
45
A SURE way to enjoy a meal is to make yourself hungry for it. This may
seem a trite statement, however little we act upon the advice implied. We are
all the creatures of customand custom, said the philosopher, does make
dotards of us all. Eating, to the majority, is only a habit; and how many of us
ever indulge the luxury of hunger? Our meals are prepared for us at set hours,
and we eat them, not because we are hungry, but because we did the same thing at
the same hours the day before. One of the war's compensations was the state of
hunger it conferred upon the soldier; and this condition was created, not only by
the absence of sufficient food, but by the strenuous open-air life he was leading.
Try to imagine, then, the edge that must have been given to his appetite, and how
he must at times have sighed for a slice of the roast beef of old England. Some
times, when on the march, I would indulge my fancies in the Barmecide manner.
I saw myself arriving home on leave just as the household were sitting down to
dinner, and in imagination I ate ravenously, never missing a course, and generally
making a beast of myself at the table. That some of the others had similar day
dreams was demonstrated on one occasion on the road from Poperinghe to Dicke-
busche. We were marching at ease at which times the men were usually allowed
to smoke and talk. One chap was remarking to his neighbour how easily he could
dispose of a pound of steak fried with onions and potatoes. The man addressed
at once rejoined that he could quickly put away three or four black puddings and
two or three bottles of beer. Those of us who had listened to these savoury specu
lations smiled sickly; but a corporal, marching near, got so exasperated that he
ordered the men to Stop that dirty talk."
One can only surmise, in the absence of a clue to the mystery, how such an
existence was sustained on the scanty fare provided. It may have been that these
Spartan days had so drained the entire system of all deleterious and poisonous
matter that the body, nurtured mainly on unlimited supplies of air (though not
always fresh air) was able to stand up the better in its natural vigour and function
healthily on a mere minimum of food.
On the other hand, I have often wondered whether the war would have been
won sooner and more thoroughly if the troops could have received their meals
direct from Claridge's or the Ri'tz. Well, I've fed at these places, and I don't
think it would. The best compliment I can pay Army feeding is, that the only
occasions on which I felt off colour were usually after receiving a parcel of
food from home. Such food, as a rule did more than appease the appetiteit
strangled it, and the sequel was my appearance on the sick parade.
One further remark on pure hunger. As a boy I used often to think, whilst
reading of the olden wars, that if I were ever a soldier and at war, I should
be too excited to want to eat. I thought of this one morning while we were being
shelled out of Zillebeke and I was chewing a crust with the greatest relish.
On the whole we were better fed up the line than at the base, where the rations
in quantity were deplorable. Their quality calls for no comment here. I shall
mention the breakfast at Le Harve. It consisted of a measure of tea that might
or might not have filled an ordinary breakfast cup. With this there was a piece
of ham fat with a streak or two of red running through it, and, lastly, a bit of dry
bread that weighed perhaps three or four ounces. And on that breakfast we
sweated for five hours at the docks before the inner man was renewed. One even
ing the dinner met with more than the usual disapproval, and a disturbance
