In France during November 1914 I received an abrupt reminder that
soldiering with the Honourable Artillery Company entails an annual
subscription.
The battalion had marched out during the night to a small village named
Croix Barbée to carry out some operation, and returned at daybreak to
its "lodging" near La Couture, another village some four or five miles
away.
Being a signaller, I had the doubtful privilege of owning a bicycle,
which had to be pushed or carried every inch of the way. On the march
back the mud was so bad that it was impossible for me to keep up with
the battalion, owing to the necessity every quarter of a mile or so of
cleaning out the mudguards.
I was plodding along all by myself in the early hours of daylight, very
tired of the bike and everything else, and I approached an old soldier
of the Middlesex Regiment sitting by the roadside recovering slowly
from the strain of the fatiguing night march.
He looked at me and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Well, mate, 'ad
yer two guineas wurf yet?"--_J. H. May, Ravenswood, Ashford, Middlesex._