into chunks and throwing it about at unequal distances, so that a shell
falling on one chunk would not wipe any of the others off the map.
Then there was more gloom, for that looked as if the war was real, and
there must be something in what the papers were saying after all.
About this time some of the boys' letters began to contain more war
news even than the papers, for the padre, who was regimental censor,
informed us that if he let our mail go home unpencilled there would be
many mothers weeping at the danger their boys were in, as they
described fierce battles in the desert. Even as it was, letters were
published in home papers that showed our regiment to have been four
times annihilated while we were in training! The only shots these
fellows heard all day were the popping of the corks in the wet canteen!
(No charge to the "drys" for this story!)

And then, of course, we route-marched--in the desert, please remember;
a very different thing, Mr. Rookie, to the same thing on made roads!
For one thing, we were not supposed to do more than fifteen miles a
day, but on the desert there were no milestones, and the distance was
"estimated" by the officer in command. Some of these officers must
have been city treasurers in private life, for their estimate of
distance was like estimated annual expenditure, generally much under
the mark. Mostly they would know when we had gone far enough, which
for us was too far, and then we would get lost coming back.
Fortunately, there was a lot of men camped in that desert, and as it is
customary for a man lost to travel in a circle, we would generally run
into some camp or other, otherwise I'm afraid we would now be a
petrified army, "somewhere in Sahara." Ten miles with an eighty-pound
pack on your back, through heavy sand, is as much as a man can endure;
after that he doesn't endure, he just carries on, and on, and on, and
on. At that time your company are all feet and are walking on your