At one end of the oblong tin are "beef
rations," at the other "chocolate rations," enough to sustain a man amid
hard and exhausting work for thirty-six hours. The chocolate rations
consist of three cubes and can be eaten in the dry state; once, however,
I came across a spare emergency tin, and found that with boiling water a
single cube made enough liquid chocolate for ten men, a cup each. People
make a great fuss in England if they don't get three or four meals a
day, but a healthy man can easily fight with much less nourishment than
this. I have seen Turkish troops during the Cretan insurrection live on
practically nothing else than a few beans and a little bread, and on
this meagre and precarious diet they fought like heroes. In the Sudan a
few bunches of raisins will keep one going all day. At the same time,
these things are to some extent relative to the individual. I have known
huge athletic men curl up in no time because they couldn't get three
meals a day on a campaign, whereas others, of half their build and
muscle, may bear privations infinitely better. It is annoying to find
here and there in the newspapers querulous letters from men at the front
complaining that plum puddings and sweetmeats haven't reached them, and
that their Christmas fare was only a bit of bully beef and a pint of
beer. These men don't represent the rank and file of the army a bit.
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