When the regiment arrived at Southampton they marvelled at the organisation of the Embarkation Staff. A place for everything and everything in its place. System paramount; disorganisation cursed and banned as soon as it reared its head. The clockwork precision was amazing, and the catching of the tides as ingenious as the sardine packing of troops on the great transport ships. Even a place was reserved for "the tears of the Marys and Lizzies," as an unromantic skipper remarked. In two days the Mixed Division was embarked. In five days it was landed all complete. Of course, it caused a stir in gay Boulogne. Twenty thousand husky Scots in kilts and breeks amused and amazed the excitable folks of France. The ladies threw flowers to the gay commanders; the maids cast kisses to the men. The Glesca Mileeshy, however, got more than flowers and kisses, thanks to a very cute Bandmaster, who made his bandsmen play "The Marseillaise" till their cheeks almost burst. The regiment lilted the air in grand style, thus earning many a good flagon of real red wine. Their first billets on the outskirts was also the scene of L’Entente Cordiale. Gay little girls came out in scores to see their khaki gods. Every billet had a swarm of unconventional flappers, who smoked the Tommies’ Woodbines with gusto, and donned their coats and caps, to the amusement of the crowd. The Glesca Mileeshy had never seen such figures, such lips, such eyes. Their women at home had not approached them with such polished ease and frankness. These charming souls even put out their lips to receive all the greetings that came their way. Naturally, all were delighted, with the exception of the colonel and Sergeant Bludgeon. "There’s going to be trouble here, Bludgeon," remarked the colonel on the second day. "Yes, sir, I expect anything from abduction to murder," answered the sergeant, handling his great stick in a sinister way. For once Bludgeon was wrong. When parades were done, the whole regiment swarmed into town, and soon were in the toils of women and wine. Even the wizened and bald-headed old veterans were rejuvenated. They sipped the champagne with gusto, and danced the gay Can-can like the belles of the Russian Ballet. Every café had its patrons. Tommies and "Frenchies" vied with each other in "Tipperary," "A Wee Deoch-an-Doris," and other popular airs. Never had the citizens seen such gay sports and fine soldiers. Yet all played the game to a man—no riotous drunkenness, no absentees. If all enjoyed themselves, they also remembered that they were at war, and in a few days would be ’midst the horrors of the same. When they parted there were many tears and lots of cheers, and, of course, all decided to return again. Alas! they little reckoned on the grim days ahead.