In this camp we received our uniforms and equipment, but it was only
after a lot of exchanging had been done that our uniforms made us look
soldierly. Oh, Lord! what caricatures many of us were after the first
issue. There were practically no out-sizes in tunics, but plenty of
the men were not merely out-size, but odd-sized. Some little fellows
looked as if they were wearing father's coat, and there were others who
looked as if they were wearing that of baby brother. Some had to turn
back the cuffs two or three times, while others had at least a foot of
wrist and forearm showing. But the breeches! Oh, my Aunt Sarah! Some
were able to tuck the bottoms into their boots, while others had to
wind puttees above their knees. There were men who couldn't bend
comfortably, while others had room to carry a couch about with them.
However, the orders were that we were to keep on exchanging until we
got something like a fit, but as there were varieties in the quality of
the cloth, there were those who preferred a misfit to poor material, so
that there were always a number who looked like Charlie Chaplin.

New arrivals in camp were always called "Marmalades," because they were
distinguished by their relish for marmalade jam. After they had
consumed over a ton of it and forgotten the taste of any other kind of
jam then they looked at a tin of it with loathing, when they would be
considered to have passed the "recruit" stage and be on a fair way to
becoming soldiers.

Long before we got our uniforms we were issued greatcoats, hats, and
boots. At this time the only other clothes we had were the blue
dungarees and white cloth hats called "fatigue dress." No
self-respecting man would allow a lady friend to see him in this
rig-out. Yet one must breathe the free air of liberty some time, and