Camp soup

While I often picture the travelling deputy commissioner for the district, or the chief engineer, or the commissioner for the railways relaxing at camp over a chota peg or, more likely if the day’s work had been arduous, a burra peg, it is remiss of me not to remember the Indian Army at camp, especially since I am a soldier’s daughter. The arduous campaigns on the North-west Frontier and their attendant discomforts were endured and even enjoyed by those in whose blood ran the