mpobello, but it went. For
that matter anything went. I discovered afterward that the sergeant
who had captured me on the street got five bob (shillings) for me.

The physical examination upstairs was elaborate. They told me to
strip, weighed me, and said I was fit. After that I was taken in to
an officer--a real officer this time--who made me put my hand on a
Bible and say yes to an oath he rattled off. Then he told me I was
a member of the Royal Fusiliers, gave me two shillings, sixpence
and ordered me to report at the Horse Guards Parade next day. I was
in the British army,--just like that!

I spent the balance of the day seeing the sights of London, and
incidentally spending my coin. When I went around to the Horse
Guards next morning, two hundred others, new rookies like myself,
were waiting. An officer gave me another two shillings, sixpence. I
began to think that if the money kept coming along at that rate the
British army might turn out a good investment. It didn't.

That morning I was sent out to Hounslow Barracks, and three days
later was transferred to Dover with twenty others. I was at Dover a
little more than two months and completed my training there.

Our barracks at Dover was on the heights of the cliffs, and on
clear days we could look across the Channel and see the dim
outlines of France. It was a fascination for all of us to look away
over there and to wonder what fortunes were to come to us on the
battle fields of Europe. It was perhaps as well that none of us had
imagination enough to visualize the things that were ahead.

I found the rookies at Dover a jolly, companionable lot, and I
never found the routine irksome. We were up at five-thirty, had
cocoa and biscuits, and then an hour of physical drill or bayonet
practice. At eight came breakfast of tea, bacon, and bread, and
then we drilled until twelve. Dinner. Out again on the parade
ground until three thirty. After that we were free.

Nights we would go into Dover and sit around the "pubs" drinking
ale, or "ayle" as the cockney says it.

After a few weeks, when we were hardened somewhat, they began to
inflict us with the torture known as "night ops." That means going
out at ten o'clock under full pack, hiking several miles, and then
"manning" the trenches around the town and returning to barracks at
three A.M.

This wouldn't have been so bad if we had been excused parades the
following day. But no. We had the same old drills except the