A day's rations in the trenches consists of quite a variety of commodities.
First thing in the winter morning we have that controversial blind, rum. We
get a "tot" which is about equal to a tablespoonful. It is not compulsory,
and no man need take it unless he wishes. This is not the time or place to
discuss the temperance question, but our commanders and the army surgeons
believe that rum as a medicine, as a stimulant, is necessary to the health
of the soldier, therefore the rum is issued.
We take this ration as a prescription. We gulp it down when half frozen,
and nearly paralyzed after standing a night in mud and blood and ice, often
to the waistline, rarely below the ankle, and it revives us as tea, cocoa
or coffee could never do. We are not made drunkards by our rum ration. The
great majority of us have never tasted medicinal rum before reaching the
trenches; there is a rare chance that any of us will ever taste it, or want
to taste it, again after leaving the trenches.
The arguments against rum make Mr. Tommy Atkins tired, and I may say in
passing that I have never yet seen a chaplain refuse his ration.
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