fied--except the donkey.

Dick Wood and Harry Fraser were two of the best we got from the Black
Watch. Dick Wood looked benevolent enough behind his spectacles, but
in a scrap his lust for blood was insatiable. Harry's penchant was
stalking Bosche machine gun posts. Unfortunately, he got it badly in
the neck just as success was at hand, and was away from us till about
the Armistice.

He and the other Harry (Adamson) looked after the transport lines.
Arizona told Harry Adamson to take his platoon forward and see if the
Bosche were still holding their trenches on the Lys Sector. "Hairy's"
method was typical of the man. Thinking it might be a "dirty" job,
"Hairy" left his platoon under cover and went on himself. Having
failed to find any Bosche in their trenches, he got up on the parapet
and waved to his platoon to come on!

Of the N.C.O.'s and men it is possible only to mention a few.

I always associate S.M. Alec. Ogilvie with Hogsthorpe at early morning
stand-to going round the lines, abusing everyone for making a noise,
and himself making as much noise as all the rest of us put together.
He was the life and soul of C Squadron. Heaven knows what C would have
done without him on the Peninsula. He and Edie and M'Laren, our three
squadron sergeant-majors, were a very strong trio. Edie was an example
to all of us--however tired he might be himself he never thought of
resting till he was satisfied his men were all right.

One man, I know, will never forget Sergeant Craig (he was made
R.Q.M.S. just a few days before his death on Suvla). Craig found lice
"doing squaderron drrrill up his legs," and he was pegged out in an
outhouse till his clothes were fumigated.

S.M. Bradfield was another splendid fellow who lost his life--the
result of frost bite--on Gallipoli. Corporal "One 'wo" was a physical
instructor in civil life, and no one could twist one better at "jerks"
than he could.

Then there was the one and only Jock Lumsden. Regularly once a week at
morning stables he turned the whole troop out to water, while he and
"Dinkum" swept the entire garage out--a sure sign that the previous
night had been pay night. He always was a hard worker, but a perfect
demon for work the morning after the night before. A squadron leader
was showing a man how to use a pick, cutting trenches in the sandstone
at Sherika. Up strolled Jock--hands deep in his pockets. "Here,
Sergeant-major--this man hasn't the foggiest notion how to use a p