When the battery drew individual rations, consisting of one can of corned-beef; a hunk of cheese; a box of hard bread and a can of jam, at 9:30 o'clock, Saturday morning, August 3rd, the sun was shining and the day was waxing warm. Under full pack the command started for the seaport of Southampton.
Romsey is seven miles Northwest of Southampton by the London and Southwest railway, but the 311th did not take the L. & S. W. The hob-nail limited was the official troop train and the route covered nine miles by winding road.
It was on this hike that "Corona" became lost. David B. Koenig, the battery clerk, was the chaperon of "Corona." But he could not carry her all the way, so the boys took turns at carrying the precious thing. During one of the rest-halts, however, some one left poor little "Corona" lay by the roadside. When her disappearance was discovered it was necessary for Lieut. Clarke to hike back several miles and find the lost. "Corona" was the battery typewriter.
Southampton was reached at 12:30 o'clock. Stop was made at the British rest camp at the Commons where refreshments, in addition to the cheese and jam rations, were secured at the British Y. M. C. A. canteen. At 2 p. m. that day it started to rain and at 2:15 the regiment resumed its march and reached the docks at 3:15 o'clock.
It was a regiment of tired soldiers who sat on their packs in the big warehouse pier at Southampton waiting for word to go up the gang-plank of the vessel that was to take them across the English Channel.
"The King Edward" was the name of the channel-going vessel that drew alongside the pier late in the afternoon. It was a cute-looking boat, just big enough to transport Battery D across the channel in comfort. At 6:30 p. m., Battery D and 1200 other members of the 311th were loaded on the King Edward. Everybody had a pleasant time. No space went to waste, whatever. Some tried to sleep during the long night that ensued while standing against a post and others tried to strap themselves to the ceiling with their cartridge belts. In general the scene was like unto a large meat-cooler in a butcher shop, with the exception that the ship furnished life-preservers instead of meat-hooks and the temperature was the extreme of zero.