THE SEVENTH MAKE CAMP.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 144709, 18 June 1915, Page 4

THE SEVENTH MAKE CAMP.

*IEN LAUGH AT ADVERSITYSTERLING RECRUITS. (From the. Dominion.) TIIENTHAM, Juno 1.5. 1 "Round there, through that gate, ’across the road, and straight ahead; don’t, lose your way,” said the officer politely. “Lose my way! Lose mv way!” ejaculated the recruit who had been halt'-au-hour iu Trontham camp.” Don't you worry; trust mo to find the jolly cook-house.” , The recruit was one of a number who landed at the training ground this morning. They all came from the Taranaki end of tho Wellington Mili- , tary District, and their cheerfulness in the circumstances of the day was remarkable, and really amusing—amusing . to see these young men in civilian cloth- | ing ploughing through acres of mud smiling and looking as supremely happy as the man who parades the lawn I at tho races after ho has struck a big ; dividend. What care they? They have already been through some test, and they aro smiling yet. They did their long journey in the troop train, and readied Wellington on Monday evening. They camped on straw for the night, fed at the barracks, entrained for Treutham iu the morning, and now they are here. Tieuthaui is cold and dreary-looking. Showers of rain are passing by, and the greynesr. of winter is over all. Tho road—it still boars tho name—is a sea of slush, the camping-ground worse. Everything is cheerless save the men. In single file tiiov stride into camp. Many conditions of men they are, in all sorts of attire Some have even come down in uniform—which will have to be sent back. Their area officer leads them along to halt them outside tlio old Rifle Association’s Hall. Somelone in his tent hears the stiange tramp !of feel and looks out. Ho calls his friends, who wailed till the “rookies” are in the middle of one of the camp's finest, stretches of mud. Then “Are yon down-hearted?” Th" “mokies halt in the mud. Back comes the answer: “No.” They nacli the old hall at length, and line up while 4nmn ollieets inquire their names, and cany out some process of sorting. They are drafted into the hall. There their papers are examined, and they swear this oath:—

“I do sincerely promise and swear that I will be 1 a:till ill and bear true ajlegianee to our sovereign lord the. King, iiis heirs, and successors, and that I will faithfully servo in the New Zealand Military Forces according to my liability under the Defence Act. and that I will observe and obey all orders of His Majesty, his heirs, and successors, and of the officers set over me. until I shall be lawfully discharged. So help me God.” Being sworn they are sent on to him whom the ramp calls Hie fashionable tailor and outfitter—Major Mounsey, in charge of the clothing store. From the store each man appears with an artulnl of raiment —a blue dungaree suit, shirts, underclothing, lists, hoots, and so on. His wardrobe lie carries to where tho tents assigned him and his friends are located. All is ready for tho new boarders. It is not the day to make tents look enticing, hut the recruits deem them “All light.” ■ .mull lime arrives. Ihe new hands line up. Someone in khaki makes a considerable clatter .somewhere, and then appears, with an armful of shiny, bright, now tin-plates. Knives and forks and pannikins of the same colour follow ; and Toniniy-iu-tlie-making, ploughs away through the mud to the place where his lunch will eventually turn up. A .trey your mug, sir?” says a polite 1 voice from a tent where half-a-dozen who have lunched are enjoying a smoke and a talk. 'the “rookies” hood not. Highly amused with their new tools, they plough on. “How do yon like your crockery, Taranaki?” • ‘‘Real eighteen-carat- silver,” answers Taranaki. “How do von like your eggs done—hard or soft?” inquires one who has taken camp faro long enough to know that Tommy is a total abstainer from egg at luncheon. “I don’t care if they’re raw.’ “Good lad I’ll shout for you!” “Right—l’ll have it in Berlin.” Eventually these, the most junior Tommies of tho big camp, take possession of their huts, and await the arrival of the lunch, which is brought along by two out of each tent party. One fetches tho tea, the other the eatables. Mon still busy themselves in making the tents more comfortable. One sergeant is very particular—no trouble is too much for him. His face is familiar —yes, he was well known in sporting circles in AVelliugtofi in days gone by. And he’s a fine sergeant. “Preliy wet about hero.” someone ibsorves. "Not as bad as yesterday,” ho is .old. “file boys slept in pools, and bey never did a single growl. Tiiov aid a few things—but they laughed at t all.” hunch arrives, and these robust fc[ows from up the coast sit down eheerly to bread and butter, and jam and hecso. Awhile Infer they are enjoying the ex■ertenco of getting into camp' clothes, ho youth who came in through the uid with Ids stylish suit and light alking shoes is standing iu the door'ay attired in dungaree and camp ools, inquiring for a mirror—and still aiding. .So tlicy were left at lunch time. Bv lie next luncheon time they will have isted camp work, as well ns camp fare, robably they will have taken a hand t roadmaking, or wielding the pick nd shovel. And they will have learnt lat there is a canteen, to which adinrn ’.non who have finished their raons and want more. They will find 10 canteen filled with men 'buying tea i- coftee, and cakes, or buns,‘or pics And they will do likewise.