I HAD just returned from a long summer's work on a surveying party, on the Canadian Pacific Railway, and everybody in my home town, Montreal (that is, the men), were all dressed in uniform, and the women seemed to be looking at me, and at first I felt uncomfortable and wondered why they stared at me. Then I realized that I had just returned from the brush of the great Canadian northwest. I knew, of course, that there was a war on, and the boys were going over, but for the moment, on my arrival in town, forgot. The boy friends whom I chummed with were overseas, and my blood began to boil. I was then nineteen years of age, and was quite eligible for service. After a few days at home, I announced, to my mother and father, that I was going overseas. Both objected and said that I should take out a commission. That did not suit me, and I thought of the quickest way to get over. On my way to "McGill" one morning I stopped to talk to two boys in uniform. I asked them how they liked the army and what unit they belonged to. One said: "Army life is great. We are 'University' boys to reinforce the famous 'Princess Pats,' and I believe it is the quickest way over." That was just what I wanted, and I asked the boys to go with me to the recruiting office, which they did. Corporal Coate was there to greet us, and it was not long before I was signed up. After all sorts of questions I was given a small slip of paper with my number on it (No. 475337) and a hat badge with "Universities Overseas Company," and on my shoulders were letters that read P.P.C.L.I. ("Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry"). I had heard all about the famous "Pats" and was of course glad that I was to be one of them. It was September 28, 1915, that I was sworn in as a soldier and I felt fine. We trained in Canada, at McGill University, for two months and had it not been for the war I would have been well on my way as a student of that university. We had guard work to do, physical training and route marching; then word was passed around that we were to go overseas and we were all delighted, as none of us wanted to be "Home Guards." On November the 15th, we left Montreal by train, amid the cheering crowds of our friends, sweethearts and mothers. Two days after we arrived at Halifax, where we embarked at 5 P.M. on the _S.S. Lapland_. The people in Halifax were there to mail letters or postal cards for us, which we threw from the steamer. At 7 P.M. we set out on our long voyage, and, as the boat steamed out, the band on the deck played "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder I'll be There," but the funny part was, that every member of the band was about sixty years old, and we knew he "wouldn't be there." We had eight good days going over and all enjoyed it, except a few who treated the fish in the ocean.