when he rather savagely demanded what sized boots I wore, I couldn't for
the life of me remember and blurted out "nines," whereas my normal
"wear" is "sevens". Instantly a pair of enormous boots and a
correspondingly colossal pair of shoes were hurled at me, while, from
various large pigeon-holes in a rack, bootlaces, socks, putties and
other things were rained upon me. I couldn't help laughing as I picked
them up. Here I was equipped from head to foot with two uniform suits of
khaki--which mercifully fitted well--shirts, boots, shoes, helmet,
field-service cap and other minutiae, and the entire equipment occupied
some four minutes all told. What a contrast to the considerable periods
of time often consumed at home over the colour of a tie or the shape of
a collar!

Shouldering the waterproof kit-bag containing my brand-new garments, and
saluting the irritated officer, I marched off to ambulance train No. 2,
where I speedily exchanged my civilian habiliments for her Majesty's
uniform. The "fall" of my nether garments was not perfect, but on the
whole I was rather pleased with the fit of the khaki, relieved on the
arm with a red Geneva Cross.

One of the two ambulance trains on the western side is manned entirely
by regulars, the other (No. 2) is in charge of an R.A.M.C. officer, but
the staff under him is composed almost wholly of volunteers. This staff
consists of a civilian doctor from a London hospital attached to the
South African Field Force, two Red Cross nurses from England, a staff
sergeant, two corporals, a couple of cooks and ten "orderlies" in charge
of the five wards.

Introductions to my comrades followed. We were certainly one of the
oddest collection of human beings I have ever come across. Our pursuits
when not in active service were extremely varied--one of our number was
an accountant, another a chemist, a third brewed beer in Johannesburg, a
fourth was an ex-baker, and so on. We were, on the whole, a very
harmonious little society, and it was with real regret that I left my
comrades when I returned to England. At least four of our number were
refugees from Johannesburg, and very anxious to return. These
unfortunates retailed at intervals doleful news about well-furnished
houses being rifled, Boer children smashing up porcelain ornaments and
playfully cutting out the figures from costly paintings with a pair of
scissors, and grand pianos being annexed to adorn the cottages of Kaffir
labourers. Anoth