Such incidents as the following are quite common.
A man enters the office of the company, salutes, and says—
"Beg pardon, sergeant, but I have no sling for my rifle"; or, "I have no strap for my can"; or, "I have no suspension hooks."
The sergeant, busy writing, answers his interrupter—
"Will you go away! And quick, too!"
The man disappears, as the sergeant remarks to the company generally—
"Silly fellow, to come and ask me for straps whilst I am distributing musettes!"
You are asked for the number of your rifle, your full name and address. Then you go to the bureau for your identification disc, your first field-dressing, and lastly you are called upon to give the names and addresses of those to whom information must be sent in case of death. Ah! This is something we had never thought of.
Three legal functionaries and five sergeants, without counting the quartermaster, scribble away as fast as they can.
Again we are mustered, and the lieutenant sees us arrive one by one. With a despairing gesture, he asks—