t surgical powers. We
only hope he didn't drop cigarette ash into the interiors of his
patients.

Others we lost far too soon were Ronnie Hutchison, O.C. Machine Gun
Section, who went to the M.G.C. His favourite word of command was
"Gallop," and his joy to jump ditches and hedges with his carts; Pat
Rigg and David Marshall, also Machine Gunners; Willie Don, who had to
leave us in Egypt owing to heart trouble. His Grace of Canterbury
himself could not have intoned words of command more melodiously than
Willie did. Charlie Herdman, our finest exponent of horsemanship. He
left us in Egypt to go to Remounts, and there he was absolutely in his
element, horse, camel, and donkey-coping. Spreull the Vet., who went
to the R.A.V.C. in France. Nor is anyone likely to forget "Daddy"
Ricketts, the Q.M., if he ever tried to extract anything from his
stores, or Gervase Babington (family motto "What is thine is mine")
if he happened to possess anything Gervase or his troop coveted.

"Ackety-ack"[6]--otherwise Willie Campbell--had one great failing. He
could see no farther than A Squadron or A Company, and if anyone ran
down "A" he foamed at the mouth. Ask him how many sergeants there were
in No. 1 platoon--which won one of the inter-platoon football
competitions--and he was abusive for a week! "Ackety" was perhaps seen
at his best playing for the officers' team. On the advice of the
crowd, "Go for the man, sir, never mind the ball," he invariably went
for Collier or Herd or Dommett, the adjutant of the Somersets--each
one quite two or more stone heavier than himself. He and
"Aeroplane"[7] were well matched, nothing striking to look at but
grand stayers. Willie was due for leave about the first week of
January 1919, but as he had spent all his money, and about L200 of
other people's, on the men's Christmas dinner, he had just to stay
where he was from want of funds to take him home.

While at Sherika, Ross Robertson left us to join R.F.C. He was our
first signal officer, and when he left was second in command B
Squadron. We lost in Rossie a very capable and popular officer, and
his death on his first solo over the German lines at Cambrai was
keenly felt by the entire Regiment. Morning stables were of no
interest to Rossie--all the energy he could raise was devoted to
flicking the heads off the daisies in his lines, but give him a
definite job to do and no one could do it better.

Unlike his successor, nothing could worry him--Bill