[Illustration: British soldiers leaving the Sumner after having exchanged uniforms with Americans.]
At Malta the _Sumner_ anchored only a couple of lengths from shore, and her cable had hardly been paid out before several boat-loads of British Tommies were alongside. Then followed an extraordinary exhibition of fraternization. The soldiers of the two nations examined one another’s equipment and uniforms and discussed their relative usefulness. They finally began to exchange buttons from their blouses and tunics, and before many minutes had passed the spirit of trade took their fancy. A British soldier would admire the useful campaign hat of an American, who in return would declare what a good souvenir the “dinky lid” of the Britisher would make for his family at home, and the next moment they would swap. Then the trading went into blouses, trousers, and shirts; at least one entire boat-load of Tommies went back in the full field uniform of the American army. What afterwards happened to them when they encountered the strict sergeant the Americans conjectured with grins.
The American colonel, however, put his foot down, and the amusing episode had to end, for the regiment was going to land for parade the next day, and there would not have been an entire uniform in the lot had the men been allowed to keep on exchanging clothes.
The parade on British soil, in the presence of a British garrison, put the men on their mettle. As the Philippine khaki had not then been issued, they furbished up their worn blue suits until the uniforms made an unusually good appearance.
Just before they landed, Captain McCoy stepped out to give them a final word of advice. It was short, and it expressed what every man was thinking already.
“Remember one thing, men,” he said; “you are going to be watched every minute you are on shore by Britishers, so don’t forget that you are Americans.”
Although the men were nearly all recruits who had never drilled together, even as companies, they went ashore in a regimental formation which did credit to our service. Every man marched and drilled as though the eyes of all the British soldiers about were directed upon him alone.
The British officers expressed much admiration for the men, and gave our officers a good many hearty compliments. They were a different type of soldiers from any they had ever seen; they had none of the fancy steps or hackney carriage of the European soldier; they were, instead, plain, solid men in uniform, nothing more; but they had the swing and the soldierly alertness which stirs the blood with its promise. British bands furnished the music for the American troops, and the old ground of the Knights of Malta heard such tunes as “Marching Thro’ Georgia,” “Rally ’Round the Flag,” and Sousa’s spirited marches, played for the friendly tramp of the soldiers of the Republic in their first parade on European soil.