Vernon Camp. B.C.
Oct. 14, 1915,

Dear Keith,

I am now in the riding school and believe muh, a certain part of my anatomy feels like a chunk of beef-steak. In this riding school you ride around in a circle in single file while the riding master sits on a horse in the centre of the ring and swears like a blue streak if anything goes wrong. The man to cuss however is the regimental sergeant major. This fellow is one of the big bugs of the regiment and you always address him as sir. Well anyway this regimental sergeant major will ride up to you, if you are riding wrong, and shout, “What are you sticking those bloody spurs into that damned horse for?” And when things are a little worse than usual he will sit back purple in the face and say “Oh Hell! you look like a lot of bloody sissies.” So you see kiddoo this soldier business is not all fun. After going round this circle for about half an hour they take you over the jumps. These jumps are just hurdles made from fir boughs and are about three feet high. You
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