reproductions of the now too well known army "tooth breakers." We had
brown army blankets, and it was no uncommon thing to find black earth
beetles and earwigs crawling among them! After months of active service
these details appear small, but in the summer of 1914 they were real
terrors. Before leaving the tents in the morning each "biscuit" had to
be neatly piled on the other and all the blankets folded, and then we
had to sally forth to learn the orders of the day, who was to be orderly
to our two officers, who was to water the horses, etc., etc., and by the
time it was eight a.m. we had already done a hard day's work.

One particular day stands out in my memory as being a specially
strenuous one. The morning's work was over, and the afternoon was set
aside for practising for the yearly sports. The rescue race was by far
the most thrilling, its object being to save anyone from the enemy who
had been left on the field without means of transport. There was a good
deal of discussion as to who were to be the rescued and who the
rescuers. Sergeant Wicks explained to all and sundry that her horse
objected strongly to anyone sitting on its tail and that it always
bucked on these occasions. No one seemed particularly anxious to be
saved on that steed, and my heart sank as her eye alighted on me. Being
a new member I felt it was probably a test, and when the inevitable
question was asked I murmured faintly I'd be delighted. I made my way to
the far end of the field with the others fervently hoping I shouldn't
land on my head.

At a given command the rescuers galloped up, wheeled round, and,
slipping the near foot from the stirrup, left it for the rescued to jump
up by. I was soon up and sitting directly behind the saddle with one
foot in the stirrup and a hand in Sergeant Wicks' belt. (Those of you
who know how slight she is can imagine my feeling of security!) Off we