willing and obliging. On one occasion they lent us their chapel and
organ for a Sunday service, and set their own service at a time to suit
ours, when churches in the town could not help us.

Altogether we were in Luton just 3 months training for war. To a great
extent the training was on ordinary lines. A routine was followed, and
all routines become dull and wearisome. We had been asked to go abroad,
we had expressed our willingness to go. This willingness grew into a
desire, which at intervals expressed itself in petulant words of
longing--"Are we ever going to France?" The answer was always the same:
"You will go soon enough, and you will stay long enough." This increased
our irritation. Suddenly, on one still and dark November day, parade was
sharply cancelled, we clad ourselves in full marching order, there was
just a moment to scrawl on a postcard a few last words home, tender
words were exchanged with our friends in the billets, and with heavy
tread and in solemn silence we marched forth along the Bedford Road.
There was a pillar box beside the road. It was only the leading
companies that could put the farewell card actually in the box, for it
was quickly crowded out, and in the end the upper portion of the red
pillar was visible standing on a conical pile of postcards.

Never had a field day passed without some reference to the 16th
milestone on the Bedford Road, but on this particular day orders did not
even mention the milestone. This in itself was sufficient to convince us
that real war had at length begun. Long before the 16th milestone was
sighted, we were diverted into a field, our kit was commented upon, and
we marched back to the same old billets. For convenience of reference
this incident is entered in our diary as the march to France along the
Bedford Road, and no bar was awarded. The march formed a crisis in our
history, for subsequent to it leave home was not sought so eagerly.