28/05/2026
RANGE STEW
I never asked what was in it, there could have been anything. I think the cooks used a colour chart that someone must have done for them. Every range stew we had was always the same colour, greyish brown with a hint of red. But after spending the morning on the ranges with rain, sleet, or snow dribbling down your tin p*sser into your mess tin, it was a great pick me up and there was always enough left for seconds and for the platoon animal to lick the hay box dry. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t feed it to my dog, but it was what the doctor ordered on those cold days on the ranges, in the same way that kebabs taste better when p*ssed.
Did this happen to you? Your oppo says to you, ‘I forgot my mess tins,’ so you lend him one of yours and then find out it’s spotted dick and custard for pudding, instead of the usual sh*tty, oil filled doughnut. Now it’s all in the same mess tin, all washed down with a black mug of stewed Norgie tea. I can feel the steam coming off my combats now and my feet starting to thaw out, as the stew warms my body, but you knew you had to shovel it down fast because those freezing cold mess tins would make it go cold quickly. Range stew was best served in the dark. If you were lucky, sometimes you might get a pasty and chips, or even steamed fish and chips, but it was a bad day when horror bags turned up
BULLIES AND BU****IT.
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