The latter part of November we arrived in England at Plymouth, and, in the rain, embarked on a train to our training camp at St. Martin's Plain near Shorncliffe. As you know, we trained there, but that will not interest you as much as our time in France, so I will skip that to the day we sailed for France.
At 4 A.M. we all fell in and the roll call was taken. We marched to the train, after having our pay book made up to date. We never forgot the pay book or the dinner call. A thing that all the boys noticed was that we were to cross the channel from Southampton on the S.S. Duke of Connaught, a fitting place for "Princess Pats." Other boys said that was luck. It was for some of us. We arrived at Havre, France, and in the rain marched seven miles to a camp called the Central Training Camp, where we spent a few days receiving instructions in modern warfare.
After the few days in camp we marched seven miles back again to Havre, and proceeded by train by Poperinghe in those beautiful Pullman cars, marked 40 men—8 horses.
We arrived at Poperinghe at 5 P.M., after spending all night, and part of the next day, in the cars. As we came nearer to our station we could hear the shells bursting and the booming of the guns. One could see nothing but heads stuck out of the car windows just as far as craning necks could stretch.
Arriving at Poperinghe we met a lieutenant who asked the sergeant:
"Are you for the 'Pats'?" the sergeant replying, "Yes, sir." In a very English way the lieutenant said:
"Oh, very well, follow me. I know where the 'Pats' are, as I was sent for you."
Well, we followed him. He took us four miles the wrong way and back again—then we had an extra two miles to the "Pats" quarters. He knew where the "Pats" were all right, all right.
Now we are with the regiment and I was put in No. 3 company under Major Charlie Stewart, who was one good fellow. The regiment was out for rest, but we worked every night going up the line to do work in the trenches, and help the engineers.