Ready to Go—The Battalion Moves

Rumour had been busy for days; the whole division was about to move,
so every one stated, except our
officers, and official information was not forthcoming.

“You are going between midnight and
five o’clock to-morrow morning,” announced
my landlord positively. He is a coal-merchant by trade.

“How do you know?” I inquired.

“Because I can’t get any coal to-morrow—line’s bunged up for the troops.”

“No, he’ll be going on Tuesday,” said
his wife, whose kindliness and splendid cooking I should miss greatly.

“Is that so?” I asked, feigning an interest which I did not feel. A sore toe
eclipsed all other matters for the time being.

“The ration men have served out enough
for two days, and it doesn’t stand to reason
[pg 112]
that they’re going to waste anything,” the
little lady continued with sarcastic emphasis on the last two words.

Parades went on as usual; the usual
rations were doled out to billets and the
usual grumbling went on in the ranks. We
were weary of false alarms, waiting orders,
and eternal parades. Some of us had been
training for fully six months, others had
joined the Army when war broke out, and
we were still secure in England. “Why
have we joined?” the men asked. “Is
it to line the streets when the troops come home? We are a balmy regiment.”

One evening, Thursday to be exact, the
battalion orders were interesting. One item
ran as follows: “All fees due to billets
will be paid up to Friday night. If any other
billet expenses are incurred by battalion
the same will be paid on application to the
War Office.” Friday evening found more
explicit expression of our future movements
in orders. The following items appeared:
“Mess tin covers will be issued to-morrow.
No white handkerchiefs are to be taken by
the battalion overseas. All deficiencies in
kit must be reported to-morrow morning.
[pg 113]
Bayonets will be sharpened. Any soldiers
who have not yet received a copy of the
New Testament can have same on application
at the Town Hall 6 p.m. on Saturday.

“Where are we going?” we asked one
another. Some answered saying that we
were to help in the sack of Constantinople,
others suggested Egypt, but all felt that
we were going off to France at no very
distant date. Was not this feeling plausible
when we took into account a boot parade
of the day before and how we were ordered
to wear two pairs of socks when trying on
the boots? Two pairs of socks suggested
the trenches and cold, certainly not the
sun-dried gutters of Constantinople, or the burning sands of Egypt.

Saturday saw an excited battalion mustered
in front of the quartermaster’s stores
drawing out boots, mess-tin covers, blankets,
ground-sheets, entrenching tools, identity
discs, new belts, water-bottles, pack-straps,
trousers, tunics and the hundred and one
other things required by the soldier on active
service. In addition to the usual requisites,
every unit received a cholera belt (they are
more particular over this article of attire
[pg 114]
than over any other), two pairs of pants, a
singlet and a cake of soap. The latter
looked tallowy and nobody took it further
than the billet; the pants were woollen, very
warm and made in Canada. This reminds
me of an amusing episode which took place
last general inspection. While standing
easy, before the brigadier-general made his
appearance, the men compared razors and
found that eighty per cent. of them had
been made in Germany. But these were
bought by the soldiers before war started.
At least all affirmed that this was so.

Saturday was a long parade; some soldiers
were drawing necessaries at midnight, and
no ten-o’-clock-to-billets order was enforced
that night. I drew my boots at eleven
o’clock, and then the streets were crowded
with our men, and merry and sad with
sightseers and friends. Wives and sweethearts
had come to take a last farewell of
husbands and lovers, and were making the
most of the last lingering moments in good wishes and tears.

Sunday.—No church parade; and all men
stood under arms in the streets. The officers
had taken off all the trumpery of war, the
[pg 115]
swords which they never learned to use,
the sparkling hat-badges and the dainty
wrist-watches. They now appeared in web
equipment, similar to that worn by the men,
and carried rifles. Dressed thus an officer
will not make a special target for the sniper
and is not conspicuous by his uniform.

Our captain made the announcement in
a quiet voice, the announcement which had
been waited for so long. “To-morrow we
proceed overseas,” he said. “On behalf of
the colonel I’ve to thank you all for the
way in which you have done your work up
to the present, and I am certain that when
we get out yonder,” he raised his arm and
his gesture might indicate any point of the
compass, “you’ll all do your work with
the spirit and determination which you have shown up till now.”

This was the announcement. The men
received it gleefully and a hubbub of conversation
broke out in the ranks. “We’re
going at last”; “I thought when I joined
that I’d be off next morning”; “What
price a free journey to Berlin!”; “It’ll
be some great sport!” Such were the
remarks that were bandied to and fro. But
[pg 116]
some were silent, feeling, no doubt, that
the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle chatter.

A little leaflet entitled “Rules for the
Preservation of Health on Field Service,”
was given to each man, and I am at liberty to give a few quotations.

“Remember that disease attacks you from
outside; it is your duty to keep it outside.”

“Don’t drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water.”

“Never start on a march with an empty stomach.”

“Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot. See that feet are washed if
no other part of the body is. Socks should
be taken off at the end of the march, be
flattened out and well shaken. Put on a
clean pair if possible, if not, put the left
sock on the right foot, and vice versa.”

“Remember, on arrival in camp, food before fatigues.”

“Always rig up some kind of shelter at
night for the head, if for no other part of the body.”

At twelve noon on Monday the whistles
[pg 117]
blew at the bottom of the street and we all
turned out in full marching order with
packs, haversacks, rifles and swords. I heard
the transport wagons clattering on the pavement,
the merry laughter of the drivers, the
noise of men falling into place and above
all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing orders.

Yet this, like other days, was a “wash-out.” All day we waited for orders to
move, twice we paraded in full marching
kit, eager for the command to entrain; but
it was not forthcoming. Another day had
to be spent in billets under strict instructions
not to move from our quarters. The orders
were posted up as usual at all street corners,
a plan which is adopted for the convenience
of units billeted a great distance from headquarters,
and the typewritten orders had an air of momentous finality:

The battalion moves to-morrow.

Parade will be at 4.30 a.m.

Entraining and detraining and embarking must be done in absolute silence.

I rose from bed at three and set about to
prepare breakfast, while my cot-mate busied
himself with our equipment, putting everything
[pg 118]
into shape, buckling belts and flaps,
burnishing bayonets and oiling the bolts of
the rifles. Twenty-four hours’ rations were
stored away in our haversacks all ready,
the good landlady had been at work stewing and frying meat and cooking dainty
scones up to twelve o’clock the night before.

When breakfast, a good hearty meal of tea,
buttered toast, fried bacon and tomatoes,
was over, we went out to our places. The
morning was chilly, a cold wind splashed with
hail swept along the streets and whirled
round the corners, causing the tails of our great
coats to beat sharply against our legs. It
was still very dark, only a few street-lamps
were lighted and these glimmered doubtfully
as if ashamed of being noticed. Men in full
marching order stamped out from every
billet, took their way to the main street, where
the transport wagons, wheels against kerbstones,
horses in shafts, and drivers at reins,
stood in mathematical order, and from there
on to the parade ground where sergeants,
with book in one hand and electric torch
in the other, were preparing to call the roll.

[pg 119]

Ammunition was served out, one hundred
and twenty rounds to each man, and this
was placed in the cartridge pouches, rifles
were inspected and identity discs examined
by torch-light. This finished, we were allowed
to stand easy and use ground-sheets for a
shelter from the biting hail. Our blankets
were already gone. The transport wagons
had disappeared and with them our field-bags.
I suppose they will await us in —— but
I anticipate, and at present all we know
is that our regiment is bound for some
destination unknown where, when we arrive,
we shall have to wear two pairs of socks at our work.

We stood by till eight o’clock. The day
had cleared and the sun was shining brightly
when we marched off to the station, through
streets lined with people, thoughtful men
who seemed to be very sad, women who wept
and children who chattered and sang “Tipperary.”

Three trains stood in the sidings by the
station. Places were allotted to the men,
eight occupied each compartment, non-commissioned
officers occupied a special carriage,
the officers travelled first-class.

[pg 120]

Soon we were hurrying through England
to a place unknown. Most of my comrades
were merry and a little sentimental; they
sang music-hall songs that told of home.
There were seven with me in my compartment,
the Jersey youth, whom I saw kissing
a weeping sweetheart in the cold hours of the
early day; Mervin, my cot-mate, who always
cleaned the rifles while I cooked breakfast in
the morning; Bill, the Cockney youth who
never is so happy as when getting the best
of an argument in the coffee-shop of which I
have already spoken, and the Oxford man.
The other three were almost complete strangers
to me, they have just been drafted into our
regiment; one was very fat and reminded me
of a Dickens character in Pickwick Papers;
another who soon fell asleep, his head warm
in a Balaclava helmet, was a tall, strapping
youth with large muscular hands, which
betoken manual labour, and the last was a
slightly-built boy with a budding moustache
which seemed to have been waxed at one
end. We noticed this, and the fat soldier
said that the wax had melted from the
few lonely hairs on the other side of the lip.

[pg 121]

Stations whirled by, Mervin leant out of
the window to read their names, but was
never successful. Cigarettes were smoked,
the carriage was full of tobacco fumes and
the floor littered with “fag-ends.” Rifles
were lying on the racks, four in each side,
and caps, papers and equipment piled on
top of them. The Jersey youth made a remark:

“Where are we going to?” he asked. “France I suppose, isn’t it?”

“Maybe Egypt,” someone answered.

“With two pairs of socks to one boot!”
Mervin muttered in sarcastic tones; and
almost immediately fell asleep. He had been
a great traveller and knows many countries.
His age is about forty, but he owns to twenty-seven,
and in his youth he was educated for
the church. “But the job was not one for
me,” he says, “and I threw it up.” He
looks forward to the life of a soldier in the field.

Our train journey neared the end. Bill
was at the window and said that we were
in sight of our destination. All were up
and fumbling with their equipment; and
one, the University man, hoped that the
[pg 122]
night would be a good one for sailing to France.

If we are bound for France we shall be there to-morrow.

THE END.

[pg 123]

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