sign of an early departure for France, and from that on the place
buzzed with rumours of when we were to start. It does not take much to
start a rumour going in the Army--for instance, the Colonel buys a
light shirt, and his batman tells somebody that he thinks we are going
to a warm climate, as the Colonel is buying light clothes. The person
he told it to passes it on this way--"Oh yes, the Colonel's servant
says we are going to India," and No. 3 announces "I have it from some
one high up that we are being sent to India instead of to France, the
Colonel is laying in a supply of light clothes; and in the
Quartermaster's store they have gotten in a supply of sun helmets"--and
so it goes, increasing in size like the report of a German victory in
their newspapers. But we soon saw that our stay was going to be short,
for presently our new equipment was issued to us. This consisted of
two khaki shirts, two heavy suits of underwear, two heavy army
blankets, rifle and ammunition, hat covers, several pairs of socks, a
lot of small things, and last but not least, two pairs of boots.
Besides this, we had our haversack containing emergency rations: tea,
sugar, army biscuits, and bully-beef. I put my pack on the scales when
I got it all together, and it weighed just one hundred pounds.

Our new issue of boots came in for more attention than anything else.
I must tell you about them; they were destined to cause us no end of
misery in the near future. Such boots! "Gravel crushers," we called
them. Big heavy marching boots, armour-plated on the sole and so large
that they looked and felt like barges. In my childhood days I never
could understand how the "Old Lady lived in a shoe," but when I saw
these boots the mystery was solved; though, mind you, they were just
the thing for France; and after they got broken in, we couldn't have
had anything better. But after our light-weight boot manufactured out
of paper by some of our patriotic(?) Canadian firms, it took some time
to get our feet used to the heavier weight.

Just before we were ready to leave for France we were treated to an
air-raid. Some Zeppelins came over and dropped bombs not far from our
camp. Of course the warning was sounded, all lights put out, and we
sat there as still as mice, wondering what was going to happen next. I
fancy we felt something as a rabbit does when there is a keen-eyed hawk
soaring overhead. However, the danger passed and there was no har