“We’ve just got to!” declared Ned. “We can’t be shirkers.”
“I only hope I don’t get hungry,” said Bob, with rather a woebegone face. “I’m going to put some cakes of chocolate in my pocket, so I can have something to nibble on.”
“Don’t,” advised the same soldier who had spoken about their feet. “Don’t eat sweet stuff until just before you can stop to take a drink. Candy will make you thirsty, and the worst thing you can do is to take a drink on the march. Wait until you stop. I’ve tried it, and I know.”
And so the march had started. The route was in a big circle about the camp as a center, and would take about five days. The men were to sleep in dog tents, camping at certain designated points, and eating the rations they carried with them and the food that would be brought to them by supply trains that accompanied the army. It was to be as much like a hike through a hostile land as it was possible to make it.
In order to make the illusion complete—that of having the young soldiers imagine they were at actual warfare—the same sort of marching was to prevail as would have prevailed had the men from Camp Dixton been on their way to take their place in the front line trenches, bordering on No Man’s Land, or as if they were hastening to the relief of a sorely-tried division.
To that end it was ordered that the day’s march should be broken up into periods. That is, the soldiers would march at the regulation speed for a certain number of miles, a distance depending, to a certain degree, on the nature of the land and whether or not it was uphill or downhill. At the end of the distance a halt would be called, and the men would be allowed ten minutes’, or perhaps a half hour’s, rest. They were told not to take off their packs during this period, as it would be hard to get them adjusted to their backs again, but they were instructed to ease themselves as much as possible, by resting the weight of their packs on some convenient rock, log or hummock.
And so down the road went Ned, Bob and Jerry, in the midst of their chums of the army—boys and men with whom they had formed, for the most part, desirable acquaintances.
“This is one fine day,” remarked Jerry, as he and his friends trudged along together.
“Couldn’t be better,” agreed Ned. “How about it, Chunky?”