us each time only a trifling distance forward? In some
measure, it must be admitted, the blame was our own.
There were a number of men whom you could check at
two o'clock and find, with the exception of allowable deficiencies, up to the mark. At three you might check
them again, and learn they had lost within the hour such
prominent objects as tent poles and shelter halves. One
little bandsman was suspected of an appetite for tent pins,
his disappeared so rapidly and regularly. But we weren't
to blame for that futile effort after the complete check
that could only be made with every soldier in his place and
each piece of cquipment in view.
At one time the stable sergeants and the grooming and feeding details would be at the stables. Check or no check, the horses had to be cared for. At another the cooks were scattered on various duties. Naturally the men couldn't be checked at the price of starvation. And every day at headquarters and in the orderly rooms sol- diers of clerical ability bent before the sacred shrine of Paper Work, and couldn't be torn away.
So the Age of Checking was prolonged through March and April, and even up to the day we sailed.
The Age of Gas, while less irksome at that time, was rather more unpleasant. Lieutenant Mitchell had taken a course from a Scotch non-commissioned officer. He was looked upon as an expert now, and we were content to pin our faith to him. But one night we were summoned to hear Mitchell lecture. He sprinkled bright little stories among statistics, depressing, and, we fancied, a trifle exaggerated for our good. We drank in extended figures of casualties caused through carelessness or ignorance; of casualties, on the other hand, scarcely to have been avoided. He had his house at his feet. In a fashion he beat the English lecturers at their own game. He'd found out about
