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The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Arthur Cope, R. A. (T. A.) and Richard A. Cope.

In late 1930, we were in France, and the army rations were very primitive. The cooks had not received any training in our Territorial Army days. Usually they were volunteers who thought that by doing the cooking they would escape many of the drills and parades that were undertaken by the rest of us. Actually, the cook for our troop had been a cotton weaver, with no experience what so ever of catering.

I think the method of preparing the evening meal was quite simple. Get the potatoes peeled, slice them up and put in a dixie containing water and, perhaps, carrots or peas. Next get the meat, slice it into pieces (not too small!) and place in the dixie. Add salt and put the whole lot over a fire. Give the mixture a stir now and then whilst it boils.

When the time came it was so simple to ladle the greasy mess into our mess tins as we queued to receive our ration. Amazingly, we ate this food day after day, simply because there was nothing else and at least it was hot, (well, sometimes). I must admit that it came as a rather shock one day when I saw the meat being delivered. Stamped on the side I saw a word that was, of course, in French. It said: 'Cheval" - horse!

As an anti-aircraft unit we were on the move every few days offering protection at various rail heads as more troops arrived in France. This meant that on reaching a new site we had to dig a larger hole in which we positioned our Bofors gun.

Usually there was a farmhouse nearby and as I spoke a little French, I was asked to approach the wife of the farmer with a request for her to make us some sandwiches. Naturally, we paid for them. At one farm I got some sandwiches that were really enjoyed by my colleagues, so the following day I was asked to get a similar supply. As she was spreading the contents of a dish on the bread, I asked the lady what it was.

I took the sandwiches back to the gun team and as they were being eaten, I casually said: "Oh, by the way, the farmer's wife told me what was on the bread. It is frogs legs paste!" I have never seen food thrown to the ground so quickly as it was that day! Why, I don't know, because until they knew what the contents were, the lads really enjoyed them!

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