"If the Germans catch you with that Mauser, they will hang you. Take
the Webley. Then you can always draw Service ammunition." Wagstaffe
ran his eye over the rest of Bobby's outfit. "Smokes? Take your pipe
and a tinder-box: you will get baccy and cigarettes to burn out there.
Keep that electric torch; and your binoculars, of course. Also that
small map-case: it's a good one. Also wire-cutters. You can write
letters in your field-message-book. Your compass is all right. Add
a pair of canvas shoes--they're a godsend after a long day,--an
air-pillow, some candle-ends, a tin of vaseline, and a ball of string,
and I think you will do. If you find you still have a pound or so in
hand, add a few books--something to fall back on, in case supplies
fail. Personally, I'm taking 'Vanity Fair' and 'Pickwick.' But then,
I'm old-fashioned."
* * * * *
Bobby took Wagstaffe's advice, with the result that that genial
obstructionist, the Quartermaster, smiled quite benignly upon him when
he presented his valise; while his brother officers, sternly bidden
to revise their equipment, were compelled at the last moment to
discriminate frantically between the claims of necessity and
luxury--often disastrously.
However, we had all found our feet, and developed into seasoned
vagabonds when we set out for the trenches last week.
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