Private Peat | Page 8

Sixth, Eleventh, Twelfth and Seventeenth Battalions. It
was obvious that somebody had to be kept in reserve, and we were the
unlucky dogs. We cursed our fate, but that didn't mend matters. We had
nothing for it but to trust to a better fortune which should draft us into a
battalion going soon to the fighting front.
The First Brigade consisted of men of the First, Second, Third and
Fourth Battalions of Infantry. All of these battalions came from Ontario.
The Second Brigade was made up of men from the West, including
Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon, Calgary and Vancouver. They were in
the Fifth, Seventh, Eighth and Tenth Battalions, all infantry.
The Third Brigade was commonly known as the Highland Brigade and
was made up of the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, Fifteenth and Sixteenth
Battalions. This last brigade included such splendid old regiments as

the Forty-Eighth Highlanders of Toronto, the Ninety-First Highlanders
of Hamilton and Vancouver, and the Black Watch of Montreal. There
were also some of the far eastern men in this brigade.
After all this rearrangement had been made, it was only a few days till
the rumor flew about that the battalions might leave for France at any
time now. It seemed to us poor devils of the old Ninth that everything
was going wrong. The unit lying next to us, the Seventeenth Battalion,
was quarantined with that terrible disease, cerebro-spinal-meningitis.
For a few days we buried our lads by the dozen. Speaking for myself,
my nerves were absolutely unstrung, and I am sure that most of the
men were in the same condition. It can be easily understood then that
when drafts were asked for, to bring up the regiments leaving for
France to full strength, there was a mad scramble to get away.
Without even passing the surgeon, I finally drifted into the Third
Battalion, ordinarily known as the "Dirty Third." This battalion was
made up of the Queen's Own, the Bodyguards and Grenadier
Regiments of Toronto.
I landed in on a Sunday afternoon about three o'clock and was
immediately told by the quartermaster that we were leaving for France
in a few hours. He told me that I needed a complete change of
equipment. At this news I rejoiced, because so far we had all worn, in
our battalion, the leather harness known as the "Oliver torture." I knew
that the active service, or web, equipment could not be worse.
The rush for equipment issue was like a mêlée on the front line after a
charge, as I found out later on. There were some three hundred men
newly drafted into the Third Battalion; there were some three hours in
which we had to get our equipment and learn to adjust it. As it was,
many of the extreme greenhorn type marched away garbed in most
sketchy fashion. Some had parts of their equipment in bags; others
utilized their pockets as holders for unexplained, and to them
inexplicable, parts of the fighting kit.
Another of our trials was the new army boot. In Canada we had been
issued a light-weight, tan-colored shoe, more practicable for dress

purposes than for active service. Now we had the heavy English
ammunition boot. This is of strong--the strongest--black leather. The
soles are half-inch, and they are reenforced by an array of hobnails.
These again are supplemented by tickety-tacks, steel or iron headed
nails with the head half-moon shape. Each heel is outlined with an iron
"horse shoe." Until the leather has been softened and molded with
much rubbing and the unending use of dubbing, I would say, mildly,
that these boots are not of the easiest.
Our departure for France was thrilling in its contrasts. Before setting
out we cleaned camp, and then we had a fine speech from our new
commander, Colonel Rennie, of Toronto, of whom much was to be
heard in the hard days to come.
We slipped out of the camp in silence and utter darkness. Troops were
being moved through England and into France with the utmost secrecy.
We dare not sing as we marched; we dare not speak to a neighbor. On
and on, it seemed endless, through mud and water and mud again. At
times it reached to our knees as we plowed our way to the railway,
where trains with drawn blinds awaited us.
Before we were half through our march a terrific electrical storm broke
over us; the thunder roared and the lightning split the sky open as
though Heaven itself were making a protest against war.
We finally embarked on _His Majesty's Transport Glasgow_.
CHAPTER III
BACK TO CANADA--I DON'T THINK
It was seven in the evening before we were ready to start. At that hour
we quietly slipped our anchor and glided out of the harbor. We all
thought we would be