The Tents Are "Struck" At Six Sharp In The Morning, And
That Means That We Have To Be Up At Four And Breakfast At Five.
That
the bedding must be rolled, every little thing tucked away in trunks
or bags, the mess chest packed, and the cooking stove and cooking
utensils not only made ready to go safely in the wagon, but they must
be carried out of the tents before six o'clock.
At that time the
soldiers come, and, when the bugle sounds, down go the tents, and if
anything happens to be left inside, it has to be fished out from
underneath the canvas or left there until the tent is folded. The days
are so short now that all this has to be done in the darkness, by
candle or lantern light, and how mothers can get their small people up
and ready for the day by six o'clock, I cannot understand, for it is
just all I can manage to get myself and the tent ready by that time.
We are on the banks of a small stream, and the tents are evidently
pitched directly upon the roosting ground of wild geese, for during
the snowstorm thousands of them came here long after dark, making the
most dreadful uproar one ever heard, with the whirring of their big
wings and constant "honk! honk!" of hundreds of voices. They circled
around so low and the calls were so loud that it seemed sometimes as
if they were inside the tents.
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