Whatever the possibilities of our going out early may have been, one step was taken which could have had only that object in view, viz. inoculation against typhoid. We can only hope that the Medical Officers who operated on us got more fun out of the operation than we did.
Marching orders came eventually, and as ever, when least expected. Late on Sunday evening, November 15th, we were told to be ready to move at an hour's notice. This was presumed to be due to a feared raid and landing on the East Coast--at any rate one hopes there was some equally good reason for it, for quite a number of Officers and men had been allowed to go on week-end leave, and had to be recalled by telegram, whilst the following day was to have been a holiday.
We shall not easily forget that night--the energy we expended in packing valises, brows sweating, tempers bad, language beyond description,--all trying the impossible feat of making the wonderful collection of kit we had got together on the advice of one friend or another keep within the allotted allowance of 35lbs.
Apart from our own individual troubles, we had the additional enormous task set of issuing new equipment to everybody. The 1908 bandolier pattern had been withdrawn, and new leather equipment (pattern 1914) had arrived on the previous Friday and Saturday, and the Quarter-Master's staff had been busy marking it and getting it ready for issuing. This all had to be issued during the Sunday night, and was carried round to billets in blankets. The language of something like 900 men all trying to put together an entirely new set of equipment, the like of which they had never seen, may well be imagined. We were the first Battalion to be issued with this equipment, which on the next day's march proved very unsatisfactory, many buckles and straps pulling right out of the webbing of the packs and haversacks. We were glad when a month later it was all withdrawn, and we were issued with the much more popular and lasting web equipment.
Eventually the Battalion paraded at 9 a.m. on November 16th, one hour late, and in consequence instead of leading the Brigade we had to march in rear. We got to Harlow, a distance of something like 26 miles, about 8 p.m. This was a very trying march, and as many men had only been issued with new boots during the night, it was not surprising that several fell out. On this march we first realised what a difficult and technical job "supply" can be. The supply and baggage wagons appear to have been hopelessly overloaded, and in consequence both rations and blankets failed to reach us that night. It was largely owing to the extreme kindness and hospitality of the inhabitants of the delightful little village of Harlow, amongst whom was the evergreen veteran Sir Evelyn Wood, V.C., that we were fed and breakfasted and able to continue the march the following day, 14 miles to Dunmow. This proved more trying than the previous day, and the Medical Officer and stretcher-bearers had a busy time attending to those who fell out.