He was off the target altogether. Our
sergeant, after a few very pungent remarks, commanded the section to move
to one hundred yards. Here again each one of us had a bull to his credit
but Number One. Again he had missed, and again we moved, this time to fifty
yards.
At fifty yards I can not begin to describe the look on the sergeant's
face--to say that his eyes, nose and mouth were twitching is putting it
mildly. Nevertheless, Number One missed. Then, something that never
happened before on a rifle range on this earth electrified us all. Sergeant
Jones shouted at the top of his voice: "Number One, attention! Fix bayonet!
Charge! That's the only d----d hope you've got."
Disappointments were frequent enough in camp. Take the case of the Fifth
Western Cavalry, who could sport the honor of their full title on their
shoulder straps in bold yellow letters. It was they who had to leave horses
behind and travel to France to fight in what they termed "mere" infantry.
To this day we know them as the "Disappointed Fifth." There was also the
Strathcona Horse of Winnipeg who were doomed to disappointment and much
foot-slogging with their horses left behind.
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