CHAPTER II


A LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY


Aldershot was a seething swarm of civilians who had enlisted. Every
class and every type was to be seen. We found out the R.A.M.C. depot
and reported. A man sat at an old soapbox with a lot of papers, and we
had to file past him. This was in the middle of a field with row upon
row of bell-tents.

"Name?" he snapped.

I told him.

"Age?"

"Religion?"

"Quaker."

"Right!--Quaker Oats!--Section 'E,' over there."

But my old postman knew better, and, having found out where "Section
E" was camped, we went off up the town to look for lodging for the
night, knowing that in such a crowd of civilians we could not be