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[Page 29]
The camp of Etaples is a very large one, about 2 miles in length. It is the final training camp for the Empire troops. Several large British and Canadian hospitals are here. A large grave yard, each grave marked by a plain wooden cross, tells its tale. There must be thousands of men and officers lie here. There are hundreds and thousands of Scots, here, all the Jocks in creation. Most wear kilts too, and what's more, look as if they like it too. Gee, I wouldn't wear a kilt for five minutes in the middle of the day.
Nov. 26th Sunday.
Yesterday, after 8 days of the "bull-ring" we were pronounced "fit" . Sounds like a kind of Christmas fattening process doesn't it. "Fit" ! it has a nasty sound, too much like "fit for slaughter" . But in reality it is pretty much that. Anyway, after a lot of hard work and tiresome waiting, we are now full-fledged soldiers. There's some satisfaction in knowing one is now regarded as a fully qualified private, after being recommended for a commission 8 months ago, & after being a Sergeant for 7 months.
The training was constant and hard. Reveille goes at 5.30, but we don't rise till 6. This means we have to be careful not to burn all our candle the night before, for it is quite dark then. At 8 am we parade and march 3 miles to the drill ground or Bull-ring, as it is called. The roads are mostly this wretched uneven cobble, and as our boots have iron studs and steel horseshoes on the heels, its just about all we want. It is always full kit, "full marching order" , to be military. The "torreodores" , ie. instructors, then take us in small squads, thro' bayonet fighting, bombing, gas drill, extended order work, attack & defense, musketry, outpost and trench work. We are made to walk through a trench