will be all right for marching. When I heard we were
moving, I went to the hospital to consult the chief M.O. there about
it. He examined _both_ my legs gravely and then firmly grasping the
sound one pronounced that it had still an excess of fluid in it: which
I take to be a sincere though indirect tribute to the subsidence of
the fluid in the crocked one. He proceeded to prescribe an exactly
reverse treatment to that recommended by the other M.O., which had the
advantage of giving me official sanction for pretty well anything I
chose to do or not do. The upshot of it was that I decided to test the
old leg for myself to determine whether it was fit for marching or
not. So I began with a six mile walk on Friday, shooting: and found
that my graceful limb did not impede my progress nor develop into any
graver symptoms. I was more tired than I should have been a month ago,
but that was natural. Yesterday was monopolised by Christmas
functions; to-day I mean to try eight or nine miles, and ten or twelve
to-morrow. If the thing is going to crock it had better do it before
I start: but it shows no sign of it.
The latest way of indicating latitude and longitude is like a date,
_e.g._ 32.25/44/10: you can take the N. and E. for granted.
It has most tactlessly begun to rain again to-day, and with an E. wind
it may continue, which will mean a vile slime for marching.
The Christmas sports were really great fun: one of them--one-minute
impromptu speeches--would make quite a good house-party game.
_P.S._--You must think me brutal not to have mentioned my poor men. I
have written so many letters this morning, I didn't notice it in this
one. They are still being bombarded and have had 21 casualties out of
180: 5 killed, one of my draft, 2 officers slightly wounded. I hope to
see them about Twelfth Night--no, say second Sunday after Epiphany!
* * * * *
CAMP.
_January 3_, 1916.
TO P.C.
... That afternoon the new draft arrived, headed by Jack Stillwell and
Lester Garland. They arrived only 45 strong, having reached Basra over
100. Basra is a nest of military harpies who seize men for obscure
duties and make them local sergts. Only 68 escaped from it; and of
these 23 fell out on the march--another specimen of R.A.M.C.
efficiency. The M.O. at Quetta had merely passed down the line asking
each man "Are you fit?" and taking his answer.
In this letter A. stands for Amarah, C. for Kut, B. f
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