In Baghdad, 1917, "Buzzer" Lee and I were told off to do "flying
sentry" round the officers' lines from 3 to 5 a.m. Well, we commenced
our duty, and Buzzer suggested we visit the mess kitchen to see all was
well, and in case there was anything worth "knocking off" (as he called
it) in the way of char or scran (tea or bread and butter).
The mess kitchen was in darkness, and Buzzer began scrounging around.
After a while he said: "I've clicked, mate! Soup in a dixie!" By the
light of a match he found a cup, removed the dixie lid, and took a cup
of the "soup."
"We're in the market this time, mate," said Buzzer, and took out a
cupful for me.
"It don't taste like Wood's down the New Cut," I said, doubtfully.