It was a pleasure to feed them, particularly so in
the case of one chief, a venerable gentleman, who seemed both by his
bearing and the number of stripes on his sleeve to be the dean of the
mess. He ate quietly, composedly and to the point, and after I had
spilled a couple of plates of rations on several of the other chiefs'
laps he suggested that I call it a day and be withdrawn in favor of
one whose services to his country were not so invaluable as mine.
Appreciating his delicacy I withdrew, but only to be sent out on
another job that defies description. Even here I quickly demonstrated
my unfitness and have consequently been incorporated once more into
the body of my regiment.
_July 10th._ I had the most terrible experience in mess to-day when a
guy having eaten more rapidly than I attempted to take my ration. When
I told him he shouldn't do it he merely laughed brutally and kicked me
an awful whack on the shin. This injury, together with the sight of
witnessing my food about to be crammed down his predatory maw,
succeeded in bringing all my latent patriotism to the fore and I fell
upon him with a desperation bred of hunger. We proceeded to mill it up
in a rather futile, childish manner until the Master-at-arms suggested
in a certain way he has that we go away to somewhere else.
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