Our unit was serving in the Western Desert, early in 1941. We had advanced rapidly with General Wavell's Army, but were re-grouping and things were rather quiet. Our supply columns were stretched to the limit and the rations were very primitive. Water was in short supply, bread and fresh meat non-existent. It seemed that our staple diet was bully and biscuit.

Suddenly, a movement was spotted in the distance. Our major got out his field-glasses to observe if we were to come in contact with the enemy again. As we watched, the officer's face broke into a huge smile. "It's alright," he said, "it's just a herd of gazelle." He walked away and all was quiet. Then an idea came to my mind and I approached the major with a suggestion.

"What about trying to get one of these animals, sir?" I asked. He thought for a minute or two and then said; "Why not? That's a great idea." So he and his driver got into the front of a 15cwt open truck and four of us climbed on to the back with our rifles loaded and 'at the ready', and off we went on our 'safari'.

It did not take us long to reach the herd which galloped off at high speed. However, we gave chase and soon were in firing distance. We were all good sharp-shooters and only a few rounds of ammunition were needed before we had shot two if the gazelle.

We loaded them on to the truck and drove back to our unit. George Streather, one of our drivers who, in 'Civvy Street', was a master butcher, gazed in wonderment at our capture. Then he was ‘in his element'. In no time at all his knife was out and the gazelle were skinned and 'prepared for the pot'. The petrol-cans were filled with sand and petrol, and the pieces of animal were placed in tins over the heat of the primitive stoves. Soon, a most appetising smell began to surround us as we waited impatiently for the meat to be cooked.

At long last our mess-tins were brought out and one-by-one we paraded in front of 'cook-cum-butcher George' to receive a generous helping of that mouth-watering delicacy. Oh, what a treat! It was such a long time since we had eaten fresh meat that the taste was 'out of this world'. It was like chicken, but a hundred times better.

We had been so used to bully-beef straight from the tin, or fried, or boiled, or in a stew - but it always tasted just what it was - bully-beef!

That was the only time we ate gazelle meat, but it was a 'feast' that lingered in our minds - if not our stomachs - for many a long time.

- Arthur Cope