high and dry. It
always was high and dry. At probably no other period, however, did the
personality of the Manchester Territorial show to greater advantage, as
the life was one of peculiar privation. Water was carried up daily by
camels from Railhead, but was most scanty, and always warm. The sand was
too soft for any game to be played--too soft even to permit of trotting
horses. The heat was constant and intense. The men were as cheerful and
uncomplaining as ever.

To have developed such a spirit in men entirely civilian in habits and
traditions was the glory of the Territorial system.

All ranks toiled together to make life in this corner of Sinai liveable.
History hardly looks beyond the Army Corps at the smaller unit. Still
less does she concern herself with the humble pawn in some unimportant
corner of the great game. In reality, however, his lot is of moment to
the race. The tone of an army is the tone of its individual men. An
unhappy soldiery cannot win wars. "An army moves on its stomach," said
Napoleon; and the recognition of the soldier's hunger and thirst, his
desire for rest, amusement and sympathy helps, almost as much as skill
and self-confidence help, to make the successful leader of men.

It was, therefore, a soldier's job to keep up the hearts of our colony
at Ashton-in-Sinai. Captain C. Norbury, as acting President of
Regimental Institutes, and Captain H. Smedley, as stage-manager and
singer, worked on the only sound lines.

Journalism, theatrical performances, lecture courses, concerts and
canteen business, as initiated and practised by the officers and men of
the Battalion at Ashton, were true factors towards efficiency and
discipline.

After three hours' work and their breakfast, the men would gather in our
recreation tent with its flaps rolled up, and listen to a lecture on
some historical or military subject which bore upon the topic of the
hour. They then slept and smoked and played cards or sang through the
long midday heat until the time came again for digging. In the evening,
on a stage cleverly made by Sergeant Taylor, the dramatic company would
act some play that appealed to their emotions, or a concert party would
indulge them with a medley of ragtime and sentimental songs, Addison's
_Stammering Sam_ alternating with Sergeant Shields' _When Irish Eyes
are Smiling_. The taste of Lancashire is catholic.

On Sundays we often merged "Church and Chapel" in a common service.
Davey, the Me