when
he found himself many yards out of the way, and his involuntary "Whoa!"
Then Knudsen quietly took charge of us, and led us where we belonged.

"This is going to be interesting," whispered Corder to me. "Remember what
I told you."

In the afternoon, among other drill work, we were taught how to make our
packs. The strangely shaped piece of webbing which I once tried to
describe to you, with all its straps and hooks, is a haversack worked out
by a commission headed by a Major Stewart, who evolved this Stewart pack,
the lightest by many pounds of any army pack in the world. Now give
attention. On the ground you spread your poncho, rubber side downward. On
it you lay your shelter-half and fold it till it too is an oblong,
smaller than the poncho. Next you fold one blanket thrice and lay it with
its stripe lengthwise of the poncho. Lay on it your tent-pegs, rope,
bacon box and condiment can, a change of underclothes, your soap and
razor, tooth-brush and towel. Lap over it the edges of the poncho and the
shelter-half. Now roll this from the blanket end, packing tightly; and
when you approach the end of the poncho, fold eight inches of it toward
you, and into this pocket work the roll. Thus you have made a tight
waterproof sausage, firmly enough packed to be thrown about without
coming open. The first stage of making your pack is now finished.

The roll is now, by means only to be learned by actual doing, to be
strapped to the haversack, which also carries the bayonet and, in its big
pocket, the meat-can, knife, fork, and spoon. The pack is next, by its
complicated straps, attached to the belt, and the whole is put on like a
vest, the arms through its broad straps. These should be so tightened
that the top of the pack comes well above the level of the shoulders, so
that the straps will not drag and cut. The belt is buckled in front, but
should be loose enough to hang over the hips. Thus the whole weight of
the pack and belt is carried by the shoulders, which are braced back as
by the old-fashioned shoulder brace, leaving the chest free for
expansion, and carrying no weight.

The pack weighs about eighteen pounds, the belt (with full canteen and
cartridge pockets) another eight, the rifle nine. Thirty-five pounds, for
light marching order, is much less than any other army than ours is
blessed with. And this outfit is to be, as our captain grimly remarked
today, our constant companions. Oh my poor back!

I know it will