Within every mind a small voice asked-- "Blighty?" And then came
another whiff of rumour: "The Xth Division are going-- England
perhaps!"

But it was too good to believe. Every one wanted to believe it . . .
each man in his inmost soul hoped it might be true . . . but it
couldn't be England . . . and yet it might!

One night the Indian Pack-mule Corps came trailing down with their
little two-wheeled, two- muled carts and transported all our medical
panniers away into the gloom, and they went towards Lala Baba. It was
a good sign.

Everything was gone now except our own packs and kit, and we had
orders to "stand by" for the command to "Fall in."

We lay about in the sand waiting--and wondering. At last towards the
last minutes of midnight we got the orders to "Fall in." The N.C.O.'s
called the "Roll," "numbered off" their sections and reported "All
present and correct, sir!"

In a long straggling column we marched from our last encampment
towards Lala Baba. The night was very dark and the sand gave under our
feet. It was hard going, but every man had a gleam of hope, and
trudged along heavy-laden with rolled overcoat, haversack and water-
bottle and stretcher, but with a light heart.

The advanced party from Chocolate Hill met us at Lala Baba. Here
everything was bustle and hurry.