Saturday was a long parade; some soldiers were drawing necessaries at midnight, and no ten-o’-clock-to-billets order was enforced that night.  I drew my boots at eleven o’clock, and then the streets were crowded with our men, and merry and sad with sightseers and friends.  Wives and sweethearts had come to take a last farewell of husbands and lovers, and were making the most of the last lingering moments in good wishes and tears.

Sunday.—­No church parade; and all men stood under arms in the streets.  The officers had taken off all the trumpery of war, the swords which they never learned to use, the sparkling hat-badges and the dainty wrist-watches.  They now appeared in web equipment, similar to that worn by the men, and carried rifles.  Dressed thus an officer will not make a special target for the sniper and is not conspicuous by his uniform.

Our captain made the announcement in a quiet voice, the announcement which had been waited for so long.  “To-morrow we proceed overseas,” he said.  “On behalf of the colonel I’ve to thank you all for the way in which you have done your work up to the present, and I am certain that when we get out yonder,” he raised his arm and his gesture might indicate any point of the compass, “you’ll all do your work with the spirit and determination which you have shown up till now.”

This was the announcement.  The men received it gleefully and a hubbub of conversation broke out in the ranks.  “We’re going at last”; “I thought when I joined that I’d be off next morning”; “What price a free journey to Berlin!”; “It’ll be some great sport!” Such were the remarks that were bandied to and fro.  But some were silent, feeling, no doubt, that the serious work ahead was not the subject for idle chatter.

A little leaflet entitled “Rules for the Preservation of Health on Field Service,” was given to each man, and I am at liberty to give a few quotations.

“Remember that disease attacks you from outside; it is your duty to keep it outside.”

“Don’t drink unboiled water if you can get boiled water.”

“Never start on a march with an empty stomach.”

“Remember that a dirty foot is an unsound foot.  See that feet are washed if no other part of the body is.  Socks should be taken off at the end of the march, be flattened out and well shaken.  Put on a clean pair if possible, if not, put the left sock on the right foot, and vice versa.”

“Remember, on arrival in camp, food before fatigues.”

“Always rig up some kind of shelter at night for the head, if for no other part of the body.”

At twelve noon on Monday the whistles blew at the bottom of the street and we all turned out in full marching order with packs, haversacks, rifles and swords.  I heard the transport wagons clattering on the pavement, the merry laughter of the drivers, the noise of men falling into place and above all the voice of the sergeant-major issuing orders.