building was a large sign which read "Divisional Baths." In a wooden
shed in the rear, we could hear a wheezy old engine pumping water.

We lined up in front of the baths, soaked with perspiration, and piled
our rifles into stacks. A Sergeant of the R. A. M. C. with a yellow
band around his left arm on which was "S. P." (Sanitary Police) in
black letters, took charge, ordering us to take off our equipment,
unroll our puttees, and unlace boots. Then, starting from the right of
the line, he divided us into squads of fifteen. I happened to be in
the first squad.

We entered a small room where we were given five minutes to undress,
then filed into the bath room. In here there were fifteen tubs
(barrels sawed in two) half full of water. Each tub contained a piece
of laundry soap. The Sergeant informed us that we had just twelve
minutes in which to take our baths. Soaping ourselves all over, we
took turns in rubbing each other's backs, then by means of a garden
hose, washed the soap off. The water was ice cold, but felt fine.

Pretty soon a bell rang and the water was turned off. Some of the
slower ones were covered with soap, but this made no difference to the
Sergeant, who chased us into another room, where we lined up in front
of a little window, resembling the box office in a theater, and
received dean underwear and towels. From here we went into the room
where we had first undressed. Ten minutes was allowed in which to get
into our "clabber."

My pair of drawers came up to my chin and the shirt barely reached my
diaphragm, but they were clean,--no strangers on them, and so I was
satisfied.