WHY DINNER WAS LATE

Wairarapa Times-Age, 8 June 1943, Page 4

WHY DINNER WAS LATE

RUSSIAN SOLDIER COOK FINDS NEW USE FOR SALT. (By E. Vorobyov, in “Soviet War News.”) Some artillerymen on the Russian central front not long ago had a mealtime argument as to which of them had the most dents and gashes from bullets and splinters on the shield of his gun. Savichev the cook, who was pouring out the soup, remarked: “And don’t forget to look at my gun.” “What sort of gun have you got?” the Red Army men asked, amused.

He took them to his field kitchen and pointed out the marks of seven shell splinters.

Savichev has been in some tough spots. He keeps his men well fed. Where his field kitchen cannot pass he makes his way with a thermos can slung to his back. Where he cannot walk he crawls, dragging the thermos container after him. On one famous occasion he was late with the dinner. This is how it happened. It was all on account of the salt. He happened to .stumble and his whole stock of salt was scattered in the autumn mud. The soup was already cooking. But how could he possibly serve it unsalted? He went to report the matter to the commander. “Run along to the village and ask them for some salt," the commander advised. The village was not far off. The collective farmers gave him all the salt he needed.

“You are welcome,” they said. “Come again if you need anything.” On his way back, as he was descending into a gully, two Germans armed with automatic rifles suddenly dashed out of the bushes and fell on him. They were evidently out to capture a live prisoner. Quick as lightning, Savichev flung a handful of salt into their faces.

The Germans clapped their hands to their eyes and Savichev took advantage of this to uncling his rifle and fell one of them with the butt. The other German fired and hit him in the hand. But Savichev managed to finish him off too.

Having bound up his wounded hand, the cook picked up the Germans’ automatics. Then he frowned. Here he was again without any .salt. Part he had flung in the Germans’ faces, the rest had got scattered in the scuffle. He had to make another journey to the collective farm. “I’m sorry to say that I wasted all the salt 6n my own needs,’ he said, “and there is none left for the men’s dinner.” And he told them what had happened on the way. The collective farmers gladly gave him some more salt. Indeed, they were most congratulatory, and nobody made the least fuss because dinner was late.