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[Page 12]
February 29, 1932 REVE [possibly Reveille]
A Corner in Potatoes
(From "Duckboard Memories" by T.A. White)
A very small nucleus of the weary Fourth Brigade was left at the Rest Camp near Hazebrouck for a fortnight, in October, 1917, Capt. Jacka, V.C., being in charge Discipline was easy.
All wanted to buy potatoes, but our neighbour, a Flemish farmer, had cornered the local supply, and on our arrival, had raised the price from 2d., charged to the Tommies, to 5d, a pound. Jacka sent me to remonstrate with him, and he, himself, told him, in good Australian, what we thought of him, but the farmer remained obstinate.
The great wall of his barn had a solidly barred ventilator grating behind the tent occupied by Jacka and myself, but I took no notice of it, until Jacka, a born observer, commenced tying a two-pronged fork to a rod. "The old 'Frog' has tons of potatoes in the cellar, and thinks we'll spring 5d. a pound. Well, we won't. And we won't go without those pomme de terres, either. Come and give it a 'burl.' Lights are just out."
His first prod brought up to the bars a potato too big to pull through, be we got it through in halves. He prodded, while I held the bags and used the knife on the big ones.
The next norming the 20 members of the Fourth Brigade had potatoes for breakfast, and Jacka and I had them for three meals. We repeated the souveniring each night immediately after lights out, keeping our fellow-officers in the dark as to our method, but becoming wonderfully popular with them.
Towards the end of the week we had to lengthen our rod, and we were surprised at the rapid diminution of the store in the cellar, until, on the eighth night, after delaying over cards until 11 - Jacks was not a good player, and was always sorry to see a fellow lose heavily - we were astonished to find two Diggers at the bars, one prodding with a stick similar ot ours, and one holding the bag.
"What are you chaps doing there?" called Jacka, with mock severity. "This is out of your area. What Is In those bags?" We hid our own rod and bags as well as we could.
The two were from the Third Division - a considerable distance away. One stammered: "The old Froggie wouldn't sell us any potatoes and we wanted some."
"Robbing our gallant Allies!"
"It's his own fault, sir. We offered him 3d. a pound, but he asked 5d. Have a bag, sir. We were just filling our last."
"Right. But you know it is a serious thing. Let me see how you got them." Their last bag filled, they prepared to depart.
"How long have you been at this game?" asked Jacka.
"Since we came last week, sir. We've been sneaking over at 11, when everything's quiet."
"Well, you know that the Fourth Brigade will be blamed when he finds out. We're camped against his wall."
"He won't miss them until we're all gone; they're from the back of his stack. Good-night, sirs."
"Well, good-night this time; and thanks for this bag of potatoes; but keep to your own area for the future. The Fourth Brigade doesn't want to be blamed for the 'Eggs-a-cooked' souveniring."
As we filled our own bags, after they had gone, Jacka grinned: "No wonder we had to lengthen our rod. Serves old Frog right, though"
[See image for illustration.]