arbour early in the
morning. The men disembarked at 8 a.m. and marched out to the camps,
a distance of four or five miles. They were often weary when they
arrived, wet and muddy perhaps, or powdered with dust, unshaved,
unwashed. Often their faces were still pallid after a long night of
seasickness. Their rifles and kit seemed a burden to some of them.
They marched past our camp, and there were generally two or three of
us who stood on the bank to watch and criticise.

Later on, when some of the camps had dealt with the music question, a
band or a couple of pipers would go some distance along the road to
meet the coming men and to play them into camp. Then, in spite of
weariness and the effects of seasickness, the new drafts stepped out
bravely and made a good show.

I had a friend, a sergeant who had seen much service, one of those
N.C.O.'s of the old army to whom the empire owes a debt which will
never be properly understood. He often stood beside me to watch the
new men come in. He taught me to criticise their marching, to
appreciate their bearing. He wore a South African ribbon then. He
wears the Mons ribbon now and a couple of gold wound stripes and
doubtless several chevrons, red and blue.

The skirl of pipes came to us, and a moment later the quick, firm
tread of men marching.

"Guards, sir," said my friend.

They passed, swinging along, a mixed draft of Grenadiers, Coldstream,
Scots, Irish, Welsh. My friend straightened himself as they went by.

"The Guards, sir, is the Guards, wherever they are."

He was not himself a guardsman, but there was no trace of jealousy in
his voice. I have noticed the same thing again and again. There are
people who dislike the Guards, accusing them of conceit or resenting
certain privileges. I never met any one who refused to give the
Guards first place in battle, on the march, in camp. It is a
magnificent record to have established in an army like ours, a
wonderful record to have kept through a long-drawn war like this,
when every regiment has been destroyed and remade of new material
half a dozen times.

Another draft came by.

"Territorials, sir."

My friend was prejudiced; but he is not the only soldier of the old
army who is prejudiced against territorials. Against new battalions,
Kitchener battalions, of regular regiments there is no feeling. The
old army took them to its heart, bullied them, taught them as if they
were younger brothers. The Territorials are step