WAR- CHRONICLE

government architect, writes from the West. It is a vivid description
of life in the entrenchments:
We are completely cut off from the outside world, i. e. our
rear-guard on account of the incessant artillery fire, which is going
on. The telephone beside me alone, reminds us that we have intercourse
with our commanding officers. Catering for the troops, of
course presents difficulties. Our field-kitchen with its big copper
boiler and coffee-kettle are 1 '/2 hours distance from us, and can only
be brought along, when it is dark, as far as can be risked in safety,
on account of the artillery firing. So we can only get a meal and
some coffee once a day, which the men, tolled off for the purpose,
fetch in the soldiers' cooking utensils. It is no easy job to fetch
food for 140 men, and then divide it equally in the firing line, all
in the dark. It must all be done very quietly, no talking nor rattling
of plates or knives, and no one is to come too short. The fieldkitchen
carries on other communications with the outside world, takes
letters and cards to be sent home, or brings any that the post has
brought for the company:—presents, bread, now and then a cask of
wine—sometimes even some "Schnaps" (spirits) to keep us warm
these cold nights, or boots that have been mended, and takes the
others that are broken or worn out to the shoemaker in the baggage
train behind the troops. All this must be carried on in the
dark—without noise, or losing anything on the way. The distribution
of food, parcels, letters, &c. in the entrenchments is consequently
a work of art in itself, that must be accomplished if
necessary with closed eyes. The kitchen-department (a corporal and
2 men, if possible cook and butcher, who can drive) often sends
something extra for the leaders of the company—a piece of roast
meat, a bit of butter (latter causes general excitem'ent) and other
goodies, sometimes a bottle of champagne, which goes round without
. glasses whenever 2 or 3 comrades are together. Now, I am
here by myself. The distribution of food behind the "front" is ever so
much simpler, as the men get it direct from the big pot which can
hold 200 litres. There, they come forward one by one, with hungry
eyes and their own plates and spoons, and as soon as each receives
his warm portion, he sits, stands, or lies down and devours it. The
rations consist of meat, with or without potatoes as the case may
be—a soup, made of peas, beans or corn. Then each gets a cup
of coffee. As a rule they get coffee, besides, morning and evening;
in the evening with sausage or bacon, as far as the catering officer
can manage it for his batallion. The red wine, which we often get
here, supplies us with a good warm punch in the evenings instead
of coffee. This, of course, is all, only if the kitchen and company
are not forced to carry on their communications all in the dark;
when that is the case, then there is only one meal a day, bread,
bacon and coffee. The places which have had to suffer from the
war, are nearly all forsaken. Butter, milk, and eggs are hardly
ever to be got. Cattle and fowl are sacrificed to the butcher's knife.
(JSfordd. Allg. Zeitung, November 11, 1914.)
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