In my regiment no less than
nine, I guess they were ex-homesteaders, went "nutty." One chap, I recall,
killed hundreds of Germans on the bloody battle-fields of Valcartier. The
surgeon assured us the mania was temporary.
We were pretty thoroughly equipped by the end of the third week, when we
were given puttees instead of leggings. It was sure funny the way some of
the boys looked when they first put them on, for many of them got the lower
part of the leg much bigger than the upper part, but of course that might
happen to any one who had never seen puttees before.
There was considerable grumbling about these same puttees, because, at
first, they were undoubtedly very uncomfortable. However, before many days
the majority of us were ready to vote for puttees permanently, as they
proved warmer, a greater support to the leg on long marches and more nearly
waterproof than their more aristocratic brother leggings.
It was during the third week of camp life that we had our first review. We
gave the salute to the Duke of Connaught, who was accompanied by Sir Sam
Hughes. After this review, we were told that we might expect to leave for
France at two hours' notice.
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