The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1918-03-14

menced throwing q miscellaneous as
sortment of straps, buckles and other
paraphernalia into Il. 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 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 i'm carry it,"
Struggling under the load, with fire.
quent pauses for rest, I reached our
barracks Qarge car barns), and my
platoon leader came to the rescue. 1t
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 Tom
my 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 in
cased in woolen puttees, olive drab in
color, with my trousers overlapping
them at the top. Then WOODEN khaki
tunic, under which was blush gray
woolen shirt, minus 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 earlaps buttoned over the top.
Then the equipment: A canvas belt,
with ammunition pockets, and two
wide canvas straps like suspenders,
called I'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 water bottle, covered with felt;
on the left side was my bayonet and
scabbard. and intrenching tool handle,
this handle strapped to the bayonet
scabbard. In the rear was my in
trenching tool, carried in canvas case.
This tool was combination pick and
spade. A canvas haversack was
strapped to the left side of the belt,
while on my back was the pack, also
of canvas, held in place by two canvas
straps over the shoulders; suspended
on the bottom Of the pack was my
mess tin or canteen in a neat little
canvas case. My waterproof sheet,
looking like jelly roll, was strapped
on top Of the pack, with wooden stick
for cleaning the breach of the rifle pro-
jecting from each end. On lanyard
around my waist hung huge jack
knife with q can-opener attachment.
The pack contained my e@ercoat, an
extra pair of socks, change of under
wear, hold all Containing knife, fork,
spoon, comb, toothbrush, lather brush,
shaving soap, and razor made Of tin,
with "Made in England" stamped on
the blade; when trying to shave with
this it made you wish that you were
at war with Patagonia, so that you
could have "hollow ground" stamped
"Made in Germany; then your house
wife, button-cleaning outfit, consisting
of q brass button stick, two stiff
brushes, and a box Of "Soldiers'
Friend" paste; then a shoe brush and
q box Of dublin, writing pad, indel-
ible pencil, envelopes, and pay book,
and personal belongings, such as
small mirror, a decent razor and, a
sheaf of unanswered letters, and fags.
In your haversack you carry your iron
rations, meaning tin of bully beef,
four biscuits and can containing tea,
sugar and Oxo cubes; couple OF
pipes and a pack of shag, tin Of rifle
oil, and a pull-through. Tommy gen.
orally carries the oil with his rations;
it gives the cheese sort of sardine
taste.
Add TO this frst-aid pouch and q
long, ungainly rifle patterned after the
Daniel Boone period, and you have an
idea of British soldier in Blighty.
Before leaving for France, this rifle
is taken from him and he is issued
with a Lee-Enfield short trench rifle
and a ration bag.
In France he receives two gas he'll
NETS, a sheepskin coat, rubber mack
intosh, steel helmet, two blankets, tear
shell goggles, a balaclava helmet,
gloves and a tin Of antifrostbite grease
which is excellent for greasing the
boots. Add to this the weight of his
rations, and can you blame Tommy Tor
growing at twenty-kilo route march!
Having served as sergeant major in
the United States cavalry, I tried to
tell the English drill sergeants their
business, but it did not work. They
Immediately put me as batman In their
mess. Many a greasy dish Of stew was
accidentally spilled over them.
would sooner fight than be a waiter,