-brothers at best.
Yet they have made good in France. I wonder that the prejudice
persists. They do not march like the Guards. Even the London
Territorials have not accomplished that. But they have established
themselves as fighters, in the desperate holding of the Ypres salient
in earlier days, and ever since everywhere in the long battle-line.

"R.F.A.," said my friend, "and the biggest draft of the lot. There
must be a damned lot of guns at the front now. We could have done
with a few more at Mons. It's guns that's wanted in this war. Guns
and men behind them. And it's guns, and gunners anyway, we're
getting. Look at those fellows now. You'll see worse drafts;
though"--he surveyed the men carefully--"you might see better.
There's some of them now that's young, too young. They'll be sent
back sick before they harden. Beg pardon, sir, but here's our lot at
last. I must be going."

He saluted and turned. A body of men with an elderly officer at their
head followed the gunners closely. They turned sharp to the left up
the steep little road which leads into our camp. They halted in the
middle of the parade ground. Salutes were given and returned. The
draft was handed over. The elderly officer detached himself and made
his way to the mess-room. I followed to greet him, and to hear the
latest news from England.

"What sort of a passage?"

"Vile. We crossed in a superannuated paddle-boat. Everybody sick. Not
a spot to lie down in. My men were detailed to clean up the blessed
packet afterwards. That's why we're late. Such a scene. Ugh! Can I
get a drink?"

I do not know any one who has a more consistently disagreeable job
than a draft-conducting officer. He crosses and recrosses the Channel
under the most uncomfortable conditions possible. He has a lot of
responsibility. He gets no praise and little credit. He is generally
an elderly man. He has, most likely, been accustomed for years to an
easy life. He is often an incurable victim to seasickness. There is
no interest and no excitement about his work. He lives for the most
part in trains and steamers. He snatches meals in strange messes,
railway refreshment rooms, and quayside restaurants. He may have to
conduct his draft all the way from Cork or Wick. He may be kept
waiting hour after hour for a train. He may be embarked and
disembarked again three or four times before his steamer actually
starts. The men of his draft are strangers to him. He does not know
whether h