Explosion in the quartermaster's stores

It might still be another week and a half until I have to report back for duty, but when I woke up this morning I thought it would be a really good idea to start packing my kit.
After forcing open the door to my spare room, my first thought was to call the police and report a burglary, because the great big pile of desert camouflage-coloured stuff lying all over the place looked exactly like the title of this post, a massive, unfolded, mish-mash of trousers, shirts, combat jackets, boots, string, water bottles and all the other assorted paraphernalia which the British soldier gets thrown at them in the QM's store, rather like those scenes in the films.
After forcing the door shut again, going away, drinking several cups of coffee, reading the paper from cover to cover, going out for a run, having lunch, reading the paper again and generally using all the tactics one employs to avoid having to tackle a big job, I reluctantly returned to the spare room, in the vain hope that in my absence, the magic tidying up elves had done their job.
Alas, they had completely failed to help me, so I am writing this while the European Army Surplus Mountain sits there, staring at me in a challenging sort of way.
Suggestions on a postcard please, as to how I can fit this lot into a rucksack and holdall.