Western Mail, Thursday 13 April 1933, page 2
On towards the Somme in '18 to help stem the tide of advancing Fritzes, we found ourselves billeted in a chateau not far from the Belgian border. Perhaps I should say we occupied the barns of the chateau; that was the usual possie of the P.B.I. Before turning in. the order, prepare to move off at 2 a.m., passed round. Joe reckoned it was not worth while unrolling the blankets for such a short nap, and his suggestion of having a scrounge round was agreed to.
A good feed was the first necessity and after a scout round, it was decided to pay special attention to the poultry yard. Bruno, Lofty and Joe were the attacking party with Paddy in the O. Pip keeping nit. (Have you ever noticed the effect of a torch flashed on the fowl perch, the bewildered look and the conveniently extended neck? Well, that explains the body in the bag, and silence still reigned in the chook yard).
Boiling a fowl in a petrol tin is easy work, but it's hard to hide the smell; in fact you can't, and that is why Monsieur appeared on the scene. He "parley vooed" a lot, and we "no compreed'' a lot more, until finally he departed full of suspicion, to the many bon soirs of the bookoo brigands.
And then the beano! Lofty did the carving, and all were set bar Paddy. As his dixie still remained empty he rose in protest.
"But," explained Lofty, "you know, Paddy, it's Lent."
"Lent be damned," said Pat. "Call it borrowed if you like, but hand over some chook! "