Surveying
The
Territory
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The start of this letter is missing.
The letters are companies, and the numbers platoon. The fourth battalion of the Brigade, the 8th Munster Funsiliers, are lying in Templemore, so they couldn't come. Old Miles,the Brigadier (Brig.-Gen. J.Miles, Cmdg. 47th Inf. Bde.), sat upon his horse at the front (about where the first "e" is in "Leinsters") with a galaxy of scarlet-hatted staff-captains and A.D.C.'s about him. The Brigade looked meekly down its noses behind him. Presently the General arrived on his charger, a meek little man, like Lloyd George; the Brigadier arose in his stirrups and cried, "General Salute!", the bugles pealed out a long note, the 3,000 men presented arms with a clash and a flourish, the officers remained stiffly at the salute, and the massed bands
in the rear broke out into a little ruffle of drums and squeal of fifes. For
an instant we stood so, then crashed back into immobility again while the rank and fashion of Fermoy burst into volleys of hand-clapping. A very pretty little compliment it was to the General.
After that we marched past in platoons, one by one, the Royal Irish leading ("Right turn!" - then, each platoon in succession, "Left turn! Quick march! Left wheel!" and "Eyes right!" going past the base, see diagram) formed up again in mass, turned about, and marched-past back again all together in review order. Very imposing. Then the officers were congratulated and photographed. I'll send you a copy.
I'm for a month-or-so signalling course in Fermoy to-morrow, and then perhaps
Waterford. Address "Royal Hotel, Fermoy". Don't begin to worry yet; we shan't see the firing line before September!
All my love.
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THE MILITARY BARRACKS