stores and received an awful shock. The Quartermaster Sergeant spread
a waterproof sheet on the ground, and commenced throwing a
miscellaneous assortment of straps, buckles, and other paraphernalia
into it. I thought he would never stop, but when the pile reached to
my knees he paused long enough to say, "Next, No. 5217, 'Arris, 'B'
Company." I gazed in bewilderment at the pile of junk in front of me,
and then my eyes wandered around looking for the wagon which was to
carry it to the barracks. I was rudely brought to earth by the
"Quarter" exclaiming, "'Ere, you, 'op it, tyke it aw'y; blind my eyes,
'e's looking for 'is batman to 'elp 'im carry it."

Struggling under the load, with frequent pauses for rest, I reached
our barracks (large car barns), and my platoon leader came to the
rescue. It was a marvel to me how quickly he assembled the equipment.
After he had completed the task, he showed me how to adjust it on my
person. Pretty soon I stood before him a proper Tommy Atkins in heavy
marching order, feeling like an overloaded camel.

On my feet were heavy-soled boots, studded with hobnails, the toes and
heels of which were reinforced by steel half-moons. My legs were
encased in woolen puttees, olive drab in color, with my trousers
overlapping them at the top. Then a woolen khaki tunic, under which
was a bluish-gray woolen shirt, minus a collar, beneath this shirt a
woolen belly-band about six inches wide, held in place by tie strings
of white tape. On my head was a heavy woolen trench cap, with huge ear
flaps buttoned over the top. Then the equipment: A canvas belt, with
ammunition pockets, and two wide canvas straps like suspenders, called
"D" straps, fastened to the belt in front, passing over each shoulder,
crossing in the middle of my back, and attached by buckles to the rear
of the belt. On the right side of the belt hung a water bottle,