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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44263 ***
+
+    500 OF THE BEST
+    COCKNEY
+    WAR
+    STORIES
+
+    REPRINTED FROM THE LONDON
+    Evening News
+
+    AND ILLUSTRATED BY
+    BERT THOMAS
+
+    WITH AN OPENING YARN BY
+    GENERAL
+    SIR IAN HAMILTON
+    G.C.B., G.C.M.G., D.S.O., etc.
+    Vice-President of the British Legion
+    President of the Metropolitan Area of the
+    British Legion
+
+    ASSOCIATED NEWSPAPERS LTD.
+    LONDON, E.C.4
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S FOREWORD
+
+
+In the remembering, and in the retelling, of those war days when
+laughter sometimes saved men's reason, Cockneys the world over have
+left to posterity a record of noble and imperishable achievement.
+
+From the countless tales collected by the London _Evening News_ these
+five hundred, many of them illustrated by the great war-time artist,
+Bert Thomas, have been chosen as a fitting climax and perpetuation.
+
+Sir Ian Hamilton's story of another war shows that, however much
+methods of fighting may vary from generation to generation, there is no
+break in continuity of a great tradition, that the spirits of laughter
+and high adventure are immortal in the make-up of the British soldier.
+
+Sir Ian's story is doubly fitting. As President of the Metropolitan
+Area of the British Legion he is intimately concerned with the
+after-war welfare of just that Tommy Atkins who is immortalised in
+these pages. In the second place, all profits from the sale of this
+book will be devoted to the cause which the Higher Command in every
+branch of the Services is fostering--the British Legion.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+    SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY
+    1. ACTION
+    2. LULL
+    3. HOSPITAL
+    4. HIGH SEAS
+    5. HERE AND THERE #/
+
+
+
+
+SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY
+
+
+The Great War was a matrix wherein many anecdotes have sprouted.
+They are short-lived plants--fragile as mushrooms--none too easy to
+extricate either, embedded as they are in the mass.
+
+To dig out the character of a General even from the plans of his
+General Staff is difficult; how much more difficult to dig out the
+adventures of Number 1000 Private Thomas Atkins from those of the other
+999 who went "like one man" with him over the top? In the side-shows
+there was more scope for the individual and in the Victorian wars
+much more scope. To show the sort of thing I mean I am going to put
+down here for the first time an old story, almost forgotten now, in
+the hopes that it may interest by its contrast to barrages and barbed
+wire. Although only an old-fashioned affair of half a dozen bullets and
+three or four dead men it was a great event to me as it led to my first
+meeting with the great little Bobs of Kandahar.
+
+On the morning of September 11, 1879, I lay shivering with fever and
+ague at Alikhel in Afghanistan. So sick did I seem that it was decided
+I should be carried a day's march back to G.H.Q. on the Peiwar Kotal to
+see if the air of that high mountain pass would help me to pull myself
+round. Polly Forbes, a boy subaltern not very long from Eton, was sent
+off to play the part of nurse.
+
+We reached the Peiwar Kotal without any adventure, and were allotted
+a tent in the G.H.Q. camp pitched where the road between the Kurram
+Valley and Kabul ran over the high Kotal or pass. Next morning,
+although still rather weak in the knees, I felt game for a ride to the
+battlefield. So we rode along the high ridge through the forest of
+giant deodars looking for mementoes of the battle. The fact was that we
+were, although we knew it not, in a very dangerous No Man's Land.
+
+We had reached a point about two miles from camp when we were startled
+by half a dozen shots fired in quick succession and still more startled
+to see some British soldiers rushing down towards us from the top of a
+steep-sided knoll which crowned the ridge to our immediate front.
+
+Close past us rushed those fugitives and on, down the hillside, where
+at last, some hundred yards below us, they pulled up in answer to our
+shouts. But no amount of shouts or orders would bring them up to us,
+so we had to get off our ponies and go down to them. There were seven
+of them--a Corporal and three men belonging to one of the new short
+service battalions and three signallers--very shaky the whole lot. Only
+one was armed with his rifle; he had been on sentry-go at the moment
+the signalling picquet had been rushed--so they said--by a large body
+of Afghans.
+
+What was to be done? I realised that I was the senior. Turning to the
+Corporal I asked him if he could ride. "Yes, sir," he replied rather
+eagerly. "Well, then," I commanded, "you get on to that little white
+mare up there and ride like hell to G.H.Q. for help. You others go up
+with him and await orders." Off they went, scrambling up the hill,
+Forbes and I following rather slowly because of my weakness. When we
+got up to the path, ponies, syces, all had disappeared except that one
+soldier who had stuck to his rifle.
+
+All was as still as death in the forest where we three now stood alone.
+"Where are the others?" I asked the man. "I think they must be killed."
+"Do you think they are up there?" "Yessir!" So I turned to Forbes and
+said, "If there are wounded or dead up there we must go and see what we
+can do."
+
+Where we stood we were a bit far away from the top of the wooded hill
+for a jezail shot to carry and once we began to climb the slope we
+found ourselves in dead ground. Nearing the top, my heart jumped into
+my mouth as I all but put my foot on a man's face. Though I dared not
+take my eyes off the brushwood on the top of the hill, out of the
+corner of my eye I was aware he was a lascar and that he must be dead,
+for his head had nearly been severed from his body.
+
+At that same moment we heard a feeble cry in Hindustani, "_Shabash,
+Sahib log, chello!_" "Bravo, Gentlemen, come along!" This came from
+another lascar shot through the body--a plucky fellow. "_Dushman kahan
+hain?_"--"Where are the enemy?" I whispered. "When the sahibs shouted
+from below they ran away," he said, and at that, side by side with the
+revolvers raised to fire, Forbes and I stepped out on to the cleared
+and levelled summit of the hill, a space about fifteen feet by twenty.
+
+All was quiet and seemed entirely normal. There stood the helio and
+there lay the flags. Most astonishing of all, there, against a pile
+of logs, rested the priceless rifles of the picquet guard with their
+accoutrements and ammunition pouches lying on the ground beside them.
+Making a sign to Forbes we laid down our revolvers ready to hand, took,
+each of us, a rifle, loaded it, fixed the bayonet and stood at the
+ready facing the edge of the forest about thirty yards away.
+
+Even in these days when my memory is busy chucking its seventy years or
+so of accumulations overboard, the memory of that tense watch into the
+forest remains as fresh as ever. For the best part of half an hour it
+must have lasted. At last we heard them--not the Afghans but our own
+chaps, coming along the ridge and now they were making their way in
+open order up the hill--a company of British Infantry together with a
+few Pathan auxiliaries, the whole under command of Captain Stratton of
+the 22nd Foot, head Signaller to the Force.
+
+In few words my story was told and at once bold Stratton determined
+to pursue down the far side of the hill. Stratton had told me to go
+back to camp, but I did not consider that an order and, keeping on the
+extreme left of the line so that he should not see me, I pushed along.
+
+I noticed that the young soldier of the picquet who had stuck to his
+rifle was still keeping by me as the long line advanced down the slope,
+which gradually bifurcated into two distinct spurs. The further we went
+the wider apart drew the spurs and the deeper became the intervening
+nullah. Captain Stratton, Forbes, and the Regimental Company commander
+were all on the other or eastern spur and the men kept closing in
+towards them, until at last everyone, bar myself and my one follower,
+had cleared off the western spur. I did not want to cross the
+nullah, feeling too weak and tired to force my way through the thick
+undergrowth. Soon we could no longer hear or see the others.
+
+Suddenly I heard Click! "Take cover!" I shouted and flung myself behind
+a big stone. Sure enough, the moment often imagined had come! Not more
+than twenty paces down the slope an old, white-bearded, wicked-looking
+Enemy was aiming at me with his long jezail from behind a fallen log.
+Click! again. Another misfire.
+
+Now I was musketry instructor of my regiment, which had been the best
+shooting regiment in India the previous year. My revolver was a rotten
+little weapon, but I knew its tricks. As the Afghan fumbled with his
+lock I took aim and began to squeeze the trigger. Another instant and
+he would have been dead when bang! went a rifle behind me; my helmet
+tilted over my eyes, my shot went where we found it next day, about six
+feet up into a tree. The young soldier had opened rapid fire just over
+my head.
+
+At the same time, I saw another Afghan come crouching through the
+brushwood below me towards a point where he would be able to enfilade
+my stone. I shouted to my comrade, "I'm coming back to you," and turned
+to make for his tree. Luck was with me. At that very moment bang went
+the jezail and when we dug out the bullet next morning and marked the
+line of fire, it became evident that had I not so turned I would never
+have sat spinning this yarn.
+
+That shot was a parting salute. There were shouts from the right of the
+line, and as I was making for my tree the Afghans made off in the other
+direction. I shouted to Stratton and his men to press down to the foot
+of the hill, working round to the north so as to cut off the raiders.
+Then, utterly exhausted, I began my crawl back to the camp.
+
+Soon after I had got in I was summoned into the presence of the
+redoubtable Bobs. Although I had marched past him at Kohat this was
+my first face-to-face meeting with one who was to play the part
+of Providence to my career. He made me sit in a chair and at once
+performed the almost incredible feat of putting me entirely at my ease.
+This he did by pouring a golden liquid called sherry into a very large
+wine-glass. Hardly had I swallowed this elixir when I told him all
+about everything, which was exactly what he wanted.
+
+A week later the Commander of the Cavalry Brigade, Redan Massy, applied
+to Headquarters for an Aide-de-Camp. Sir Fred Roberts advised him to
+take me. That billet led to unimaginable bliss. Surrounding villages
+by moonlight, charging across the Logar Valley, despising all foot
+sloggers--every sort of joy I had longed for. The men of the picquet
+who had run away were tried by Court Martial and got long sentences,
+alas--poor chaps! The old Mullah was sent to his long account by
+Stratton.
+
+But that is the point of most war stories; when anyone gets a lift up
+it is by the misfortune or death of someone else.
+
+    IAN HAMILTON.
+
+
+
+
+COCKNEY WAR STORIES
+
+
+1. ACTION
+
+
+The Outside Fare
+
+During the third battle of Ypres a German field gun was trying to hit
+one of our tanks, the fire being directed no doubt by an observation
+balloon.
+
+On the top of the tank was a Cockney infantryman getting a free ride
+and seemingly quite unconcerned at Jerry's attempts to score a direct
+hit on the tank.
+
+[Illustration: "Hi, conductor! Any room inside?--it's rainin'!"]
+
+As the tank was passing our guns a shrapnel shell burst just behind it
+and above it.
+
+We expected to see the Cockney passenger roll off dead. All he did,
+however, was to put his hand to his mouth and shout to those inside the
+tank: "Hi, conductor! Any room inside?--it's rainin'!"--_A. H. Boughton
+(ex "B" Battery, H.A.C.), 53 Dafforne Road, S.W.17._
+
+
+"Barbed Wire's Dangerous!"
+
+A wiring party in the Loos salient--twelve men just out from home.
+Jerry's Verey lights were numerous, machine-guns were unpleasantly
+busy, and there were all the dangers and alarms incidental to a sticky
+part of the line. The wiring party, carrying stakes and wire, made its
+way warily, and every man breathed apprehensively. Suddenly one London
+lad tripped over a piece of old barbed wire and almost fell his length.
+
+"Lumme," he exclaimed, "that ain't 'arf dangerous!"--_T. C. Farmer,
+M.C., of Euston Square, London (late of "The Buffs")._
+
+
+Tale of an Egg
+
+I was attached as a signaller to a platoon on duty in an advanced post
+on the Ypres-Menin Road. We had two pigeons as an emergency means of
+communication should our wire connection fail.
+
+One afternoon Fritz put on a strafe which blew in the end of the
+culvert in which we were stationed. We rescued the pigeon basket from
+the debris and discovered that an egg had appeared.
+
+That evening, when the time came to send in the usual evening
+"situation report," I was given the following message to transmit:
+
+"Pigeon laid one egg; otherwise situation normal."--_D. Webster, 85
+Highfield Avenue, N.W.11._
+
+
+"No Earfkwikes"
+
+On a bitterly cold, wet afternoon in February 1918 four privates and
+a corporal were trying to take what shelter they could. One little
+Cockney who had served in the Far East with the 10th Middlesex was
+complaining about everything in general, but especially about the
+idiocy of waging war in winter.
+
+"Wot yer grumblin' at?" broke in the corporal, "you with yer fawncy
+tyles of Inja? At any rate, there ain't no blinking moskeeters 'ere nor
+'orrible malyria."
+
+There was a break in the pleasantries as a big one came over. In the
+subsequent explosion the little Cockney was fatally wounded.
+
+"Corpril," the lad gasped, as he lay under that wintry sky, "you fergot
+to menshun there ain't no bloomin' sun-stroke, _nor no earfkwikes,
+neither_."
+
+And he smiled--a delightful, whimsical smile--though the corporal's
+"Sorry, son" was too late.--_V. Meik, 107 King Henry's Road, N.W.3._
+
+
+A "Bow Bells" Heroine
+
+For seven hours, with little intermission, the German airmen bombed a
+camp not a hundred miles from Etaples. Of the handful of Q.M.A.A.C.s
+stationed there, one was an eighteen-year-old middle-class girl,
+high-strung, sensitive, not long finished with her convent school.
+Another was Kitty, a Cockney girl of twenty, by occupation a
+machine-hand, by vocation (missed) a comédienne, and, by heaven, a
+heroine.
+
+The high courage of the younger girl was cracking under the strain
+of that ordeal by bombs. Kitty saw how it was with her, and for five
+long hours she gave a recital of song, dialogue, and dance--most of it
+improvised--while the bombs fell and the anti-aircraft guns screamed.
+In all probability she saved the younger girl's reason.
+
+When the last raider had dropped the last bomb, Kitty sank down, all
+but exhausted, and for long cried and laughed hysterically. Hers was
+not the least heroic part played upon that night.--_H. N., London, E._
+
+
+Samson, but Shorn
+
+During the German attack near Zillebeke in June 1916 a diminutive
+Cockney, named Samson, oddly enough, received a scalp wound from a
+shell splinter which furrowed a neat path through his hair.
+
+The fighting was rather hot at the time, and this great-hearted little
+Londoner carried on with the good work.
+
+Some hours later came the order to fall back, and as the Cockney was
+making his way down the remains of a trench, dazed and staggering, a
+harassed sergeant, himself nearly "all in," ordered him to bear off a
+couple of rifles and a box of ammunition.
+
+This was the last straw. "Strike, sergeant," he said, weakly, "I
+can't 'elp me name being Samson, but I've just 'ad me perishin' 'air
+cut!"--"_Townie," R.A.F._
+
+
+"What's Bred in the Bone----!"
+
+When we were at Railway Wood, Ypres Salient, in 1916, "Muddy Lane,"
+our only communication trench from the front line to the support line,
+had been reduced to shapelessness by innumerable "heavies." Progress
+in either direction entailed exposure to snipers in at least twelve
+different places, and runners and messengers were, as our sergeant put
+it, "tickled all the way."
+
+In the support line one afternoon, hearing the familiar "Crack! Crack!
+Crack!" I went to Muddy Lane junction to await the advertised visitor.
+He arrived--a wiry little Cockney Tommy, with his tin hat dented in two
+places and blood trickling from a bullet graze on the cheek.
+
+In appreciation of the risk he had run I remarked, "Jerry seems to be
+watching that bit!"
+
+"Watching!" he replied. "'Struth! I felt like I was walking darn
+Sarthend Pier naked!"--_Vernon Sylvaine, late Somerset L.I., Grand
+Theatre, Croydon._
+
+
+A Very Human Concertina
+
+In March 1918, when Jerry was making his last great attack, I was in
+the neighbourhood of Petit Barisis when three enemy bombing planes
+appeared overhead and gave us their load. After all was clear I
+overheard this dialogue between two diminutive privates of the 7th
+Battalion, the London Regiment ("Shiny Seventh"), who were on guard
+duty at the Q.M. Stores:
+
+"You all right, Bill?"
+
+"Yes, George!"
+
+"Where'd you get to, Bill, when he dropped his eggs?"
+
+"Made a blooming concertina of meself and got underneaf me blinkin' tin
+'at!"--_F. A. Newman, 8 Levett Gardens, Ilford, Ex-Q.M.S., 8th London
+(Post Office Rifles)._
+
+
+A One-Man Army
+
+The 47th London Division were holding the line in the Bluff sector,
+near Ypres, early in 1917, and the 20th London Battalion were being
+relieved on a very wet evening, as I was going up to the front line
+with a working party.
+
+Near Hell Fire Corner shells were coming over at about three-minute
+intervals. One of the 20th London Lewis gunners was passing in full
+fighting order, with fur coat, gum boots, etc., carrying his Lewis gun,
+several drums of ammunition, and the inevitable rum jar.
+
+One of my working party, a typical Cockney, surveyed him and said:
+
+"Look! Blimey, he only wants a field gun under each arm and he'd be a
+bally division."--_Lieut.-Col. J. H. Langton, D.S.O._
+
+
+"Nah, Mate! Soufend!"
+
+During the heavy rains in the summer of 1917 our headquarters dug-out
+got flooded. So a fatigue party was detailed to bale it out.
+
+"Long Bert" Smith was one of our baling squad. Because of his abnormal
+reach, he was stationed at the "crab-crawl," his job being to throw the
+water outside as we handed the buckets up to him.
+
+It was a dangerous post. Jerry was pasting the whole area unmercifully
+and shell splinters pounded on the dug-out roof every few seconds.
+
+Twenty minutes after we had started work Bert got badly hit, and it was
+some time before the stretcher-bearers could venture out to him. When
+they did so he seemed to be unconscious.
+
+"Poor blighter!" said one of the bearers. "Looks to be going West."
+
+Bert, game to the last, opened his eyes and, seeing the canvas bucket
+still convulsively clutched in his right fist, "Nah, mate!" he
+grunted--"Soufend!"
+
+But the stretcher-bearer was right.--_C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street,
+W.C.I._
+
+
+"I Got 'Ole Nelson Beat!"
+
+Several stretcher cases in the field dressing station at the foot of
+"Chocolate Hill," Gallipoli, awaited removal by ambulance, including a
+Cockney trooper in the dismounted Yeomanry.
+
+He had a bandage round his head, only one eye was visible, and his left
+arm was bound to his breast with a sandbag.
+
+His rapid-fire of Cockney witticisms had helped to keep our spirits up
+while waiting--he had a comment for everything. Suddenly a "strafe"
+started, and a shrapnel shell shot its load among us.
+
+Confusion, shouts, and moans--then a half-hysterical, half-triumphant
+shout from the Cockney: "Lumme, one in the blinkin' leg this time. I
+got 'ole Nelson beat at last!"--_J. Coomer (late R.E.), 31 Hawthorn
+Avenue, Thornton Heath._
+
+
+Two Kinds of Fatalist
+
+A German sniper was busy potting at our men in a front-line trench at
+Cambrai in March 1918. A Cockney "old sweat," observing a youngster
+gazing over the parapet, asked him if he were a fatalist.
+
+The youngster replied "Yes."
+
+"So am I," said the Cockney, "but I believes in duckin'."--"_Brownie,"
+Kensal Rise, N.W.10._
+
+
+Double up, Beauty Chorus!
+
+One summer afternoon in '15 some lads of the Rifle Brigade were
+bathing in the lake in the grounds of the château at Elverdinghe, a
+mile or so behind the line at Ypres, when German shells began to land
+uncomfortably near. The swimmers immediately made for the land, and,
+drawing only boots on their feet, dashed for the cellar in the château.
+
+As they hurried into the shelter a Cockney sergeant bellowed, "Nah
+then, booty chorus: double up an' change for the next act!"--_G E.
+Roberts, M.C. (late Genl. List, att'd 21st Divn. Signal Co.), 28
+Sunbury Gardens, Mill Hill, N.W.7._
+
+
+The Theatre of War
+
+During the battle of Arras, Easter 1917, we were lying out in front
+of our wire in extended order waiting for our show to begin. Both our
+artillery and that of Fritz were bombarding as hard as they could. It
+was pouring with rain, and everybody was caked in mud.
+
+Our platoon officer, finding he had a good supply of chocolate, and
+realising that rations might not be forthcoming for some time, crept
+along the line and gave us each a piece.
+
+As he handed a packet to one cheerful Cockney he was asked, "Wot abaht
+a programme, sir?"--_W. B. Finch (late London Regiment), 155 High Road,
+Felixstowe._
+
+
+"It's the Skivvy's 'Arf Day Orf"
+
+Easter Monday, April 9, 1917. Night. Inches of snow and a weird silence
+everywhere after the turmoil of the day. Our battalion is held up in
+front of Monchy-le-Preux during the battle of Arras. I am sent out with
+a patrol to reconnoitre one of our tanks that is crippled and astride
+the German wire 300 yards out.
+
+[Illustration: "I'll have to let yer in meself ... it's the skivvy's
+'arf day orf!"]
+
+It is ticklish work, because the crew may be dead or wounded and Fritz
+in occupation. Very warily we creep around the battered monster and
+presently I tap gingerly on one of the doors. No response. We crawl to
+the other side and repeat the tapping process. At last, through the
+eerie silence, comes a low, hoarse challenge.
+
+"Oo are yer?"
+
+"Fusiliers!" I reply, as I look up and see a tousled head sticking
+through a hole in the roof.
+
+"Ho!" exclaims the voice above, "I'll 'ave ter come dahn and let yer in
+meself, it's the skivvy's 'arf day orf!"
+
+The speaker proved to have a shattered arm--among other things--and was
+the sole survivor of the crew.--_D. K., Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Cricket on the Somme
+
+"Spider" Webb was a Cockney--from Stepney, I believe--who was with us
+on the Somme in 1916. He was a splendid cricketer.
+
+We had had a very stiff time for six or seven hours and were resting
+during a lull in the firing. Then suddenly Jerry sent over five shells.
+After a pause another shell came over and burst near to "Spider" and
+his two pals.
+
+When the smoke cleared I went across to see what had happened.
+"Spider's" two pals were beyond help. The Cockney was propping himself
+up with his elbows surveying the scene.
+
+"What's happened, Webb?" I said. "Blimey! What's happened?" was the
+reply. "One over--two bowled" (and, looking down at his leg)--"and I'm
+stumped." Then he fainted.--_George Franks, M.C. (late Lieut., Royal
+Artillery), Ilford, Essex._
+
+
+M'Lord, of Hoxton
+
+We called him "M'lord." He came from Hoxton--"That's where they
+make 'em," he used to say. He was a great asset to us, owing to the
+wonderful way in which he went out and "won" things.
+
+One night, near Amiens, in 1916, "M'lord" said, "I'm going aht to see
+wot some uvver mob has got too much of." One or two of us offered to
+accompany him, but he refused, saying, "You bloomin' elephants 'ud be
+bahnd to give the gime away."
+
+About three hours later, when we were beginning to get anxious, we
+saw him staggering in with a badly wounded German, who was smoking a
+cigarette.
+
+Seeing us, and very much afraid of being thought soft-hearted, "M'lord"
+plumped old Fritz down on the fire-step and said very fiercely, "Don't
+you dare lean on me wif impunity, or wif a fag in your mouf."
+
+Jerry told us later that he had lain badly wounded in a deserted
+farmhouse for over two days, and "M'lord" had almost carried him for
+over a mile.
+
+"M'lord" was killed later on in the war. Our battalion was the 7th
+Batt. Royal Fusiliers (London Regt.)--_W. A., Windsor._
+
+
+The Tall Man's War
+
+In our platoon was a very tall chap who was always causing us great
+amusement because of his height. Naturally he showed his head above the
+parapet more often than the rest of us, and whenever he did so _ping_
+would come a bullet from a sniper and down our tall chum would drop in
+an indescribably funny acrobatic fashion.
+
+The climax came at Delville Wood in August 1916, when, taking over the
+line, we found the trench knocked about in a way that made it most
+uncomfortable for all of us. Here our tall friend had to resort to his
+acrobatics more than ever: at times he would crawl on all fours to
+"dodge 'em." One shot, however, caused him to dive down more quickly
+than usual--right into a sump hole in the trench.
+
+Recovering himself, he turned to us and, with an expression of
+unutterable disgust, exclaimed, "You blokes can laugh; anybody 'ud fink
+I was the only blighter in this war."--_C. Bragg (late Rifle Brigade,
+14th Division), 61 Hinton Road, Herne Hill, S.E.24._
+
+
+Germany Didn't Know This
+
+One night in June 1916, on the Somme, we were ordered to leave our line
+and go over and dig an advance trench. We returned to our trench before
+dawn, and shortly afterwards my chum, "Pussy" Harris, said to me, "I
+have left my rifle in No Man's Land."
+
+"Never mind," I said, "there are plenty more. Don't go over there: the
+snipers are sure to get you."
+
+But my advice was all in vain; he insisted on going. When I asked him
+why he wanted that particular rifle he said, "Well, the barrel is bent,
+_and it can shoot round corners_."
+
+He went over....
+
+That night I saw the regimental carpenter going along the trench with
+a roughly-made wooden cross inscribed "R.I.P. Pte. Harris."--_W. Ford,
+613 Becontree Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+Better than the Crystal Palace
+
+One night, while going round the line at Loos, I was accompanied by
+Sergeant Winslow, who was a London coster before the war.
+
+We were examining the field of fire of a Lewis gun, when the Germans
+opened up properly on our sector. Clouds of smoke rose from the
+surrounding trenches, crash after crash echoed around the old Loos
+crassier, and night was turned into day by Verey lights sent up by both
+sides.
+
+Suddenly a lad of 18, just out, turned to Sergeant Winslow, and in a
+quivering voice said: "My God, sergeant, this is awful!"
+
+Sergeant Winslow replied: "Now, look 'ere, me lad, you'd have paid 'alf
+a dollar to take your best gal to see this at the Crystal Palace before
+the war. What are yer grousing abaht?"--_A. E. Grant (late 17th Welch
+Regt.), 174 Broom Road, Teddington._
+
+
+A Short Week-end
+
+One Saturday evening I was standing by my dug-out in Sausage Valley,
+near Fricourt, when a draft of the Middlesex Regt. halted for the guide
+to take them up to the front line where the battalion was. I had a chat
+with one of the lads, who told me he had left England on the Friday.
+
+They moved off, and soon things got lively; a raid and counter-raid
+started.
+
+Later the casualties began to come down, and the poor chaps were lying
+around outside the 1st C.C.S. (which was next to my dug-out). On a
+stretcher was my friend of the draft. He was pretty badly hit. I gave
+him a cigarette and tried to cheer him by telling him he would soon be
+back in England. With a feeble smile he said, "Blimey, sir, this 'as
+been a short week-end, ain't it?"--_Pope Stamper (15th Durham L.I.),
+188A Upper Richmond Road, East Sheen, S.W.14._
+
+
+Simultaneous Chess
+
+At Aubers Ridge, near Fromelles, in October 1918, my chum and I were
+engrossed in a game of chess, our chessboard being a waterproof sheet
+with the squares painted on it, laid across a slab of concrete from a
+destroyed pill-box.
+
+The Germans began to drop 5·9's with alarming regularity about 150
+yards to our rear, temporarily distracting our attention from the game.
+
+Returning to the game, I said to my chum, "Whose move, Joe?"
+
+Before he could reply a shell landed with a deafening roar within a few
+yards of us, but luckily did not explode (hence this story).
+
+His reply was: "Ours"--and we promptly did.--_B. Greenfield, M.M. (late
+Cpl. R.F.A., 47th (London) Division), L.C.C. Parks Dept., Tooting Bec
+Common, S.W._
+
+
+Fire-step Philosophy
+
+On July 1, 1916, I happened to be among those concerned in the
+attack on the German line in front of Serre, near Beaumont Hamel.
+Our onslaught at that point was not conspicuously successful, but we
+managed to establish ourselves temporarily in what had been the Boche
+front line, to the unconcealed indignation of the previous tenants.
+
+During a short lull in the subsequent proceedings I saw one of my
+company--an elderly private whose melancholy countenance and lank black
+moustache will ever remain engraved on my memory--seated tranquilly on
+the battered fire-step, engrossed in a certain humorous journal.
+
+Meeting my astonished eye, he observed in a tone of mild resentment:
+"This 'ere's a dud, sir. 'S not a joke in it--not what _I_ calls a
+joke, anyway."
+
+So saying, he rose, pocketed the paper, and proceeded placidly to get
+on with the war.--_K. R. G. Browne, 6B Winchester Road, N.W.3._
+
+
+"Teddie" Gets the Last Word
+
+Sergeant "Teddie" was rather deaf, but I am inclined to think that this
+slight affliction enabled him to pull our legs on occasions.
+
+[Illustration: "A quarter to seven, sir."]
+
+Our company of the London Regiment had just taken over a part of the
+line known as the Paris Redoubt, and on the first evening in the sector
+the company commander, the second in command, Sergeant "Teddie," and
+myself had a stroll along the observation line, which was just forward
+of the front line, in order to visit the various posts.
+
+Suddenly a salvo of shells came over and one burst perilously near us.
+Three of the party adopted the prone position in record time, but on
+our looking round "Teddie" was seen to be still standing and apparently
+quite unconcerned.
+
+"Why the dickens didn't you get down?" said one of the party, turning
+to him. "It nearly had us that time."
+
+"Time?" said "Teddie," looking at his watch. "A quarter to seven,
+sir."--_J. S. O. (late C.S.M., 15th London Regt.)._
+
+
+"Nobbler's" Grouse
+
+Just before the battle of Messines we of the 23rd Londons were holding
+the Bluff sector to the right of Hill 60. "Stand down" was the order,
+and the sergeant was coming round with the rum.
+
+"Nobbler," late of the Mile End Road, was watching him in joyful
+anticipation when ... a whizz-bang burst on the parapet, hurling men
+in all directions. No one was hurt ... but the precious rum jar was
+shattered.
+
+"Nobbler," sitting up in the mud and moving his tin hat from his
+left eye the better to gaze upon the ruin, murmured bitterly:
+"Louvain--Rheims--the _Lusitania_--and now our perishin' rum issue.
+Jerry, you 'eathen, you gets worse and worse. But, my 'at, won't you
+cop it when 'Aig knows abaht this!"--_E. H. Oliver, Lanark House,
+Woodstock, Oxford._
+
+
+Dust in 'Indenburg's Sauerkraut!
+
+To all those thousands who remember Shrapnel Corner and the sign:
+"DRIVE SLOWLY! SPEED CAUSES DUST WHICH DRAWS THE ENEMY'S SHELL FIRE"
+this incident will appeal.
+
+I had rounded the corner into Zillebeke Road with a load of ammunition,
+and had gone about 200 yards along the road, when Fritz let go with a
+few shells.
+
+"Rum Ration" (my mate's nick-name) looked out of the lorry to observe
+where the shells were falling.
+
+"Nah we're for it," he exclaimed, "our dust must 'ave gorn into ole
+'Indenberg's blinkin' sauerkraut."--_J. H. Clarke, ex-Pte., M.T.A.S.C._
+
+
+A Valiant Son of London
+
+Crack! Crack! Crack!--and men falling with each crack. It is terrible;
+we are faced with mud, misery, and despair. A German machine-gun is
+taking its toll.
+
+It seems impossible to get at the gunners, and we spend hours lying
+in wait. This waiting proves too much for one of us; single-handed
+he takes a chance and crawls away from my side. I keep him covered;
+minutes roll by; they seem hours, days; and, as he is now out of sight,
+I begin to give up hope for him, my Cockney pal.
+
+Some instinct warns me to keep watch, and I am rewarded. I feel my eyes
+start from my head as I see the approaching procession--four Germans,
+hands above their heads, and my pal following, carrying the machine-gun
+across his shoulders. I marvel at his courage and wonder how it was
+done ... but this I am never to know. As I leap from the trench to give
+him assistance I realise his number is nearly up. He is covered with
+blood.
+
+I go to relieve him of his burden, and in that moment one of the
+Germans, sensing that my pal is almost out, turns on us with his
+revolver. We are held at the pistol-point and I know I must make a
+desperate bid to save my pal, who has done his best in an act which
+saved a portion of our line.
+
+I drop the gun and, with a quick movement, I am able to trip the
+nearest German, but he is quick too and manages to stick me (and I
+still carry the mark of his bayonet in my side).
+
+The realisation I am still able to carry on, that life is sweet, holds
+me up, and, with a pluck that showed his determination and Cockney
+courage, my pal throws himself into a position in which he can work the
+gun. _Crack!_ and _Crack!_ again: the remaining Germans are brought
+down.
+
+I am weak with loss of blood, but I am still able to drag my pal with
+me, and, aided by his determination, we get through. It seems we are at
+peace with the world. But, alas, when only five yards from our trenches
+a shell bursts beside us; I have a stinging pain in my shoulder and
+cannot move! Machine-guns and rifles are playing hell.
+
+My pal, though mortally wounded, still tries to drag me to our trench.
+He reaches the parapet ... _Zip_ ... _Zip_. The first has missed, but
+the second gets him. It is a fatal shot, and, though in the greatest
+agony, he manages to give me a message to his folks....
+
+He died at my side, unrewarded by man. The stretcher-bearer told me
+that he had five bullet-holes in him. He lies in France to-day, and I
+owe my life to him, and again I pay homage to his memory and to him
+as one of England's greatest heroes--a Valiant Son of London.--_John
+Batten (late Rifleman, 13 Bn., K.R.R.C.), 50 Sussex Gardens, Hyde Park,
+W.2._
+
+
+A Hint to the Brigadier
+
+Alec Lancaster was a showman at the White City in pre-war days. Short
+in stature, he possessed a mighty heart, and in the ghastly days in
+front of Poelcapelle he made history as the sergeant who took command
+of a brigadier.
+
+The brigadier had been on a visit to the front line to inspect a new
+belt of wire and, passing the ---- headquarters, paused to look around.
+
+Just then a few shells came over in quick succession and things looked
+nasty.
+
+Alec Lancaster took command and guided the brigadier somewhat forcibly
+into a dug-out with the laconic, "Nah, then. We don't want any dead
+brigadiers rahnd 'ere."--_Geo. B. Fuller, 146 Rye Road, Hoddesdon,
+Herts._
+
+
+"Salvage? Yus, Me!"
+
+On the third day of the German offensive in March 1918 a certain
+brigade of the R.F.A. was retiring on Péronne.
+
+A driver, hailing from London town, was in charge of the cook's cart,
+which contained officers' kits belonging to the headquarters' staff.
+
+As he was making his way along a "pip-squeak" came over and burst
+practically beneath the vehicle and blew the whole issue to pieces. The
+driver had a miraculous escape.
+
+When he recovered from the shock he ruefully surveyed the debris, and
+after deciding that nothing could be done, continued his journey on
+foot into Péronne.
+
+Just outside that town he was met by the Adjutant, who said, "Hullo,
+driver, what's happened--where's cook's cart with the kits?"
+
+DRIVER: Blown up, sir.
+
+ADJUTANT (_anxiously_): Anything salved?
+
+DRIVER: Yus, sir, me!--_F. H. Seabright, 12 Broomhill Road, Goodmayes,
+Essex._
+
+
+Almost Self-inflicted
+
+The London (47th) Division, after a strenuous time on the Somme in
+September 1916, were sent to Ypres for a quiet (?) spell, the depleted
+ranks being made up by reserves from home who joined us _en route_.
+
+The 18th Battalion (London Irish), were informed on taking the line
+that their opponents were men of the very same German regiment as they
+had opposed and vanquished at High Wood.
+
+Soon after "stand down" the following morning Rifleman S---- mounted
+the fire-step and, cupping his hands to his mouth, shouted, "Compree
+'Igh Wood, Fritz?"
+
+The words had hardly left his lips when _zip_, a sniper's bullet
+knocked his tin hat off his head and Rifleman S---- found himself lying
+on the duckboards with blood running down his face.
+
+Picking himself up, he calmly gathered his souvenirs together and said
+as he made his way out, "Cheerio, boys, I've got a Blighty one, but
+don't tell the colonel it was self-inflicted."--_A. C. B., Ilford,
+Essex._
+
+
+Nobby's 1,000 to 1 Chance
+
+Our division (the Third) was on its way from the line for the
+long-looked-for rest. We were doing it by road in easy stages.
+
+During a halt a pack animal (with its load of two boxes of "·303")
+became restive and bolted. One box fell off and was being dragged
+by the lashing. Poor old Nobby Clarke, who had been out since Mons,
+stopped the box with his leg, which was broken below the knee.
+
+As he was being carried away one of the stretcher-bearers said, "Well,
+Nobby, you've got a Blighty one at last."
+
+"Yus," said Nobby; "but it took a fousand rahnds to knock me
+over."--_H. Krepper (late 5th Fusiliers), 62 Anerley Road, Upper
+Norwood, S.E. 19._
+
+
+That Derby Scheme
+
+The Commanding Officer of a Territorial battalion was wounded in both
+hands during the third battle of Gaza in 1917. He had much service to
+his credit, was a lieutenant-colonel of over two years' standing, had
+been wounded twice before, and held the D.S.O.
+
+He pluckily remained with his unit for thirty-six hours. Then, worn
+out with lack of sleep, pain, and loss of blood, and filled with
+disappointment at having to leave his battalion still in the fight, he
+trudged back to the field ambulance.
+
+His sufferings, which had aged his appearance, and the Tommy's tunic
+which he wore in action, apparently misled a party of 10th London men
+whom he passed. They looked sympathetically at him, and one said, "Poor
+old blighter, _'e ought never to 'ave been called up_."--_Captain J.
+Finn, M.C., Constitutional Club, W.C.2._
+
+
+"Shoo-Shoo-Shooting"
+
+There were no proper trenches in front of Armentières in early December
+1914, and a machine gun section was doing its best to build an
+emplacement and cover. It was in the charge of a young Londoner who in
+times of excitement stuttered badly.
+
+Not being satisfied with the position of one sandbag, he hopped over
+those already in place, and in full view of Jerry (it was daylight
+too), began to adjust the sandbag that displeased him.
+
+Jerry immediately turned a machine gun on him, but the young officer
+finished his work, and then stood up.
+
+Looking towards Jerry as the section yelled to him to come down,
+he stuttered angrily. "I b-b-be-lieve the bli-bli-blighters are
+shoo-shoo-shoo-shoo-ting at me." At that moment someone grabbed his
+legs and pulled him down. It was a fine example of cool nerve.--_T. D.,
+Victoria, S.W.1._
+
+
+Ancient Britons?--No!
+
+It happened late in 1917 in Tank Avenue, just on the left of
+Monchy-le-Preux. It was a foul night of rain, wind, sleet, and
+whizz-bangs.
+
+My battalion had just been relieved, and we were making our way out as
+best we could down the miry communication trench. Every now and again
+we had to halt and press ourselves against the trench side to allow a
+straggling working party of the K.R.R.s to pass up into the line.
+
+Shells were falling all over the place, and suddenly Fritz dropped one
+right into the trench a few bays away from where I was.
+
+I hurried down and found two of the working party lying on the
+duckboards. They were both wounded, and one of them had his tunic
+ripped off him by the force of the explosion. What with his tattered
+uniform--and what remained of it--and his face and bare chest smothered
+in mud, he was a comical though pathetic sight. He still clung to his
+bundle of pickets he had been carrying and he sat up and looked round
+with a puzzled expression.
+
+One of our sergeants--a rather officious fellow--pushed himself forward.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked. "K.R.R.s?"
+
+"'Course," retorted the half-naked Cockney. "Oo d'ye fink we
+was--Ancient Britons?"--_E. Gordon Petrie (late Cameron Highlanders),
+"Hunky-Dory," Demesne Road, Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+Desert Island--Near Bullecourt
+
+Between Ecoust and Bullecourt in January 1918 my platoon was passing
+a mine crater which was half-full of water when suddenly Jerry sent
+one over. Six of our fellows were wounded, and one of them, a Bow Road
+Cockney, was hurled into the crater.
+
+[Illustration: "Robinson Crusoe."]
+
+He struggled to his feet and staggered towards a pile of rubble that
+rose above the muddy water like an island. Arrived there, he sat down
+and looked round him in bewilderment. Then: "Blimey," he muttered,
+"Robinson ruddy Crusoe!"--_E. McQuaid (late R.S.F.), 22 Grove Road,
+S.W.9._
+
+
+"Tiger's" Little Trick
+
+On October 11-12, 1914, during the Mons retreat, a small party of 2nd
+Life Guards were told off as outpost on the main road, near Wyngene,
+Belgium. After we had tied our horses behind a farmhouse at the side of
+the road, we settled down to await the arrival of "Jerry."
+
+Time went slowly, and one of our troopers suggested that we all put a
+half-franc into an empty "bully" tin, and the first one of us who shot
+a German was to take the lot. To this we all agreed.
+
+It was about midnight when, suddenly, out of the shadows, rode a German
+Death's-head Hussar. We all raised our rifles as one man, but before we
+could shoot "Tiger" Smith, one of our real Cockney troopers, shouted,
+"_Don't shoot! Don't shoot!_" During our momentary hesitation "Tiger's"
+rifle rang out, and off rolled the German into the road.
+
+Upon our indignant inquiry as to why he had shouted "Don't shoot,"
+"Tiger" quietly said, "Nah, then, none of your old buck; just hand
+over that tin of 'alf francs I've won."--_Fred Bruty (late Corporal
+of Horse, 2nd Life Guards), City of London Police Dwellings, No. 3,
+Ferndale Court, Ferndale Road, S.W.9._
+
+
+Raffle Draw To-night!
+
+Near St. Quentin, in October 1918, I was in charge of a section that
+was detailed to cross a railway to establish communication with troops
+on the other side. Unfortunately we were spotted by a German machine
+gunner, who made things very hot for us, two men being quickly hit. We
+managed, however, to reach a small mound where, by lying quite flat, we
+were comparatively safe.
+
+Glancing in the direction from which we had come, I saw a man whom I
+recognised as "Topper" Brown, our company runner, dashing as hard as he
+could for the cover where we had sheltered.
+
+"How do, corp?" he said when he came up. "Any of your blokes like to go
+in a raffle for this watch?" (producing same). "'Arf a franc a time;
+draw to-night in St. Quentin."--_S. Hills (late Rifle Brigade), 213,
+Ripple Road, Barking._
+
+
+Exit the General's Dessert
+
+In the early part of the War we were dug in between the Marne and the
+Aisne with H.Q. situated in a trench along which were growing several
+fruit trees which the troops were forbidden to touch.
+
+The Boche were shelling with what was then considered to be heavy
+stuff, and we were all more or less under cover, when a large one hit
+the back of the trench near H.Q.
+
+After the mess staff had recovered from the shock it was noticed
+that apples were still falling from a tree just above, and the mess
+corporal, his ears and eyes still full of mud, was heard to say: "Thank
+'eaven, I shan't have to climb that perishin' tree and get the old
+man's bloomin' dessert to-night."--_E. Adamson, Overseas Club, St.
+James's._
+
+
+"Try on this Coat, Sir"
+
+In September 1916, while with the 17th K.R.R.C., I lost my overcoat
+in a billet fire at Mailly-Maillet and indented for a new one, which,
+however, failed to turn up.
+
+We moved to Hebuterne, where the line was very lively and the working
+parties used to be strafed with "Minnies" all night.
+
+One night, while on patrol, with nerves on the jump, I was startled to
+hear a voice at my elbow say, "Try this on."
+
+It was the Q.M.'s corporal with the overcoat!
+
+I solemnly tried it on there and then in No Man's Land, about 300 yards
+in front of our front line and not very far from the German line.
+
+The corporal quite casually explained that he had some difficulty in
+finding me out there in the dark, but he did not want the trouble of
+carrying stuff out of the line when we moved!--_S. W. Chuckerbutty,
+(L.R.B. and K.R.R.C.), 3 Maida Hill West, London, W.2._
+
+
+On the Kaiser's Birthday
+
+In the Brickstacks at Givenchy, 1916. The Germans were celebrating the
+Kaiser's birthday by putting a steady succession of "Minnies" into and
+around our front line trench.
+
+Just when the strain was beginning to tell and nerves were getting
+jumpy, a little Cockney corporal jumped on the fire-step and, shaking
+his fist at the Germans forty yards away, bawled, "You wait till it's
+_my_ ruddy birthday!"
+
+Fritz didn't wait two seconds, but the little corporal had got his
+laugh and wasn't taking a curtain.--_"Bison" (late R.W.F.)._
+
+
+"Chuck us yer Name Plate!"
+
+In June 1917 we were ordered to lay a line to the front line at "Plug
+Street". Fritz started to bombard us with whizz-bangs, and my pal and
+I took cover behind a heap of sandbags, noticing at the same time that
+all the infantrymen were getting away from the spot.
+
+When things quietened down we heard a Cockney voice shouting, "Hi,
+mate! Chuck us yer name plate (identification disc). Y're sitting up
+against our bomb store."--_S. Doust (late Signal Section, "F" Battery,
+R.H.A.), 53 Wendover Road, Well Hall, Eltham, S.E.9._
+
+
+To Hold His Hand
+
+While on our way to relieve the 1st R.W.F.s, who were trying their
+utmost to hold a position in front of Mametz Wood, it was necessary to
+cross a road, very much exposed to Jerry's machine guns.
+
+A burst of firing greeted our attempt, and when we succeeded, a Cockney
+who had a flesh wound caused a smile by saying, "Go back? Not me. Next
+time I crosses a road I wants a blinking copper ter 'old me 'and?"--_G.
+Furnell, 57a Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+The New Landlord
+
+During an advance on the Somme in 1916 my company was rushed up to the
+captured trenches to search the dug-outs and to bring in the prisoners.
+
+My Cockney pal was evidently enjoying himself. As he went from one
+dug-out to another he was singing:
+
+    "Orl that I want is lo-ove,
+     Orl that I want is yew."
+
+Entering one dug-out, however, his voice suddenly changed. In the
+dug-out were three Germans. Showing them the point of his bayonet,
+the Cockney roared: "Nah, then, aht of it; 'op it. I'm lan'lord 'ere
+nah."--_C. Grimwade, 26 Rotherhithe New Road, Rotherhithe, S.E.16._
+
+
+"Out of Bounds" in the Line
+
+One night in October '14, in the neighbourhood of Herlies, "Ginger," a
+reservist, was sent out to call in the men of a listening post.
+
+Dawn came, but no "Ginger" returned, and as he did not turn up during
+the day he was given up for lost.
+
+Soon after dusk, however, a very worn and fed-up "Ginger" returned. We
+gathered that he had suddenly found himself in the German lines, had
+had a "dust-up," had got away, and had lain out in No Man's Land until
+dusk allowed him to get back.
+
+The company officer was inclined to be cross with him, and asked him,
+"But what made you go so far as the enemy position?"
+
+"Ginger" scratched his head, and then replied, "Well, sir, nobody said
+anyfink to me abaht it being aht o' bahnds."--_T. L. Barling (late
+Royal Fusiliers), 21 Lockhart Street, Bow, E.3._
+
+
+Epic of the Whistling Nine
+
+On May 14, 1917, the 2/2nd Battalion of the London Regiment occupied
+the support lines in front of Bullecourt. "A" company's position was
+a thousand yards behind the front line trenches. At 2 p.m. the enemy
+began to subject the whole area to an intense bombardment which lasted
+more than thirteen hours.
+
+In the middle of the bombardment (which was described by the
+G.O.C.-in-Chief as "the most intense bombardment British troops had had
+to withstand"), No. 3 platoon of "A" company was ordered to proceed to
+the front line with bombs for the battalion holding it. The platoon
+consisted of 31 N.C.O.s and men and one officer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The only means of communication between the support and front lines was
+a trench of an average depth of two feet. Along this trench the platoon
+proceeded, carrying between them forty boxes of Mills bombs. Every few
+yards there were deep shell holes to cross; tangled telephone wires
+tripped the men; M. G. bullets swept across the trench, and heavy
+shells obtained direct hits frequently, while shrapnel burst overhead
+without cessation.
+
+A man was hit every few minutes; those nearest him rendered what aid
+was possible, unless he was already dead; his bombs were carried on by
+another.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of the thirty-one who started, twenty-one were killed or wounded; the
+remainder, having taken an hour and a half to cover the 1,000 yards,
+reached the front line _with the forty boxes of bombs intact_.
+
+They were ordered to remain, and thus found themselves assisting in
+repulsing an attack made by the 3rd Lehr Regiment of Prussian Guards,
+and two of the men succeeded in wounding and capturing the commanding
+officer of the attacking regiment.
+
+Of the ten N.C.O.s and men who were left, a lance-corporal was blown
+to pieces in the trench; the remainder stayed in the front line until
+they were relieved four days later. On their way back, through Vaux
+Vraucourt, they picked clusters of May blossom, and with these in
+their equipment and rifle barrels, marched into the transport lines
+whistling.--_Captain, London Regiment._
+
+
+Tale of a Cook and a "Crump"
+
+Our cook was having the time of his life. The transition from trench
+warfare to more or less open warfare in late October 1918 brought with
+it a welcome change of diet in the form of pigs and poultry from the
+deserted farms, and cook had captured a nice young porker and two brace
+of birds.
+
+From the pleasant aroma which reached us from the cottage as we lay on
+our backs watching a German aeroplane we knew that cook would soon be
+announcing the feast was ready.
+
+Suddenly from the blue came a roar like that of an express train. We
+flung ourselves into the ditch.... _K-k-k-k-r-r-r-ump!_
+
+When the smoke and dust cleared away the cottage was just a rubbish
+heap, but there was cook, most miraculously crawling out from beneath a
+debris of rafters, beams, and bricks!
+
+"Ruddy 'orseplay!" was the philosopher's comment.--_I. O., 19 Burnell
+Road, Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"---- Returns the Penny"
+
+When my husband commanded the 41st Division in France he was much
+struck by the ready wit of a private of the Royal Fusiliers (City of
+London Regiment) in a tight corner.
+
+A bomb landed in a crowded dug-out while the men were having a meal.
+Everyone stared aghast at this ball of death except one Tommy, who
+promptly picked it up and flung it outside saying: "Grite stren'th
+returns the penny, gentlemen!" as he returned to his bully beef.--_Lady
+Lawford, London, S.W.1._
+
+
+"In Time for the Workman's?"
+
+A night wire-cutting party in the Arras sector had been surprised by
+daylight. All the members of the party (21st London Regiment) crawled
+back safely except one Cockney rifleman.
+
+When we had reached the trenches and found that he was missing, we were
+a bit upset. Would he have to lie out in No Man's Land all day? Would
+he be spotted by snipers?
+
+After a while our doubts were answered by a terrific burst from the
+German machine guns. Some of the bolder spirits peered over the top of
+the "bags" and saw our Cockney pal rushing, head down, towards our line
+while streams of death poured around him.
+
+He reached our parapet, fell down amongst us in the mud, uninjured,
+and immediately jumped to his feet and said, "Am I in time for the
+workman's?"--_D. F., Acton, W.3._
+
+
+A Lovely Record
+
+The Time: March 1916.
+
+The Scene: The Talus des Zouaves--a narrow valley running behind Vimy
+Ridge from Neuville St. Vaast through Souchez. The weather is bleak,
+and there is a sticky drizzle--it is towards dusk.
+
+The Man: A native of "somewhere just awf the 'Bricklayers Arms'--you
+know where that is, sir." Height, just over 5 feet; complexion, red;
+hair, red and not over tidy; appearance, awkward; clothes don't seem
+to fit quite. Distinguishing marks--a drooping red moustache almost
+concealing a short clay pipe, stuck bowl sideways in the corner of the
+mouth. On the face there is a curious--whimsical--wistful, in fact, a
+Cockney expression.
+
+The Occasion: The Boche is putting down his evening "strafe"--an
+intense and very accurate barrage laid like a curtain on the southern
+slope of the valley. Our hero, his hands closed round the stock of
+his rifle held between his knees, is squatting unconcernedly on the
+wet ground in the open on the northern side of the valley, where only
+a shell with a miraculous trajectory could have scored a direct hit,
+watching the shells burst almost every second not a great distance
+away. The din and pandemonium are almost unbearable. Fragments of H.E.
+and shrapnel are dropping very near.
+
+The Remark: Removing his pipe to reveal the flicker of a smile, he
+remarked, in his inimitable manner: "_Lor' blimey, guv'nor, wouldn't
+this sahnd orl rite on a grammerphone?_"--_Gordon Edwards, M.C.
+(Captain, late S.W.B.), "Fairholm," 48 Alexandra Road, Wimbledon,
+S.W.19._
+
+
+Logic in No Man's Land
+
+Fritz had been knocking our wire about, and a party of us were detailed
+to repair it. One of our party, a trifle more windy than the rest, kept
+ducking at the stray bullets that were whistling by. Finally, 'Erb,
+who was holding the coil of wire, said to him, "Can't yer stop that
+bobbin' abaht? They won't 'urt yer unless they 'its yer."--_C. Green,
+44 Monson Road, New Cross, S.E.14._
+
+
+Fousands ... and Millions
+
+It was on the Mons-Condé Canal, on the afternoon of August 23, 1914.
+Our artillery had just opened up when a tiny Cockney trumpeter, who
+could not have been more than 15 years old, came galloping up to us
+with a message.
+
+[Illustration: "They're coming on in millions."]
+
+"How are the gunners going on, boy?" said my captain.
+
+"Knocking 'em down in fousands, sir," replied the lad.
+
+"Good," said the captain.
+
+"Yus, and they're coming on in millions," replied the boy as he rode
+away to his battery.
+
+A plucky kid, that.--_W. H. White, 29 Clive Road, Colliers Wood,
+S.W.19._
+
+
+Lost: A Front Line
+
+Two or three American officers were attached to our brigade H.Q. on the
+Somme front.
+
+We were doing our usual four days in the front line when one morning
+an American officer emerged from the communication trench. Just then
+the Germans opened out with everything from a 5·9 to rifle grenade. We
+squeezed into funk-holes in the bottom of the trench. Presently there
+was a lull, and the American officer was heard to ask, "Say, boys,
+where is the front line in these parts?"
+
+"Tich," a little Cockney from Euston way, extracted himself from
+the earth, and exclaimed, "Strike! j'ear that? Wot jer fink this
+is--a blinkin' rifle range?"--_W. Wheeler (late 23rd Battalion Royal
+Fusiliers), 55 Turney Road, Dulwich, S.E._
+
+
+"If Our Typist Could See Me Nah"
+
+Imagine (if you can) the mud on the Somme at its worst. A Royal Marine
+Artilleryman (a very junior clerk from "Lambeff") was struggling up the
+gentle slope behind Trones Wood with a petrol tin of precious water
+in either hand. A number of us were admiring his manly efforts from a
+distance when the sudden familiar shriek was heard, followed by the
+equally familiar bang.
+
+We saw him thrown to the ground as the whizz-bang burst but a few feet
+from him, and we rushed down, certain that he had "got his." Imagine
+our surprise on being greeted by an apparition that had struggled to
+a sitting posture, liberally plastered with mud, and a wound in the
+shoulder, who hoarsely chuckled and said: "If our typist could see me
+_nah_!"--_C. H. F. (W/Opr. attached R.M.A. Heavy Brigade)._
+
+
+Q! Q! Queue!
+
+The scene was an observation post in the top of a (late) colliery
+chimney, 130 ft. up, on the outskirts of Béthune, during the last
+German offensive of the War.
+
+A great deal of heavy shelling was in progress in our immediate
+vicinity, and many of Fritz's "high-velocities" were screaming past our
+lofty pinnacle, which was swaying with the concussion. At any moment a
+direct hit was possible.
+
+My Cockney mate had located a hostile battery, and after some
+difficulty with the field telephone was giving the bearing to
+headquarters.
+
+Faults in the line seemed to prevent him from finishing his message,
+which consisted of giving the map square (Q 20) being "strafed." The
+"Q" simply would not reach the ears of the corporal at headquarters,
+and after many fruitless efforts, using "Q" words, I heard him burst
+out in exasperation: "Q! Q! Queue! ... Blimey! you know--the blinkin'
+thing wot the pore blighters at home wite abaht for 'mawgarine'
+in."--_B. W. Whayman (late F.S.C., R.E.), 24 Oxford Street, Boston,
+Lincolnshire._
+
+
+"Fine 'eads er Salery!"
+
+We were in a deep railway cutting near Gouzeancourt. Jerry's aeroplanes
+had found us and his artillery was trying to shift us.
+
+On the third day we had run out of cigarettes, so the sergeant-major
+asked for a volunteer to go to a canteen four miles away.
+
+Our Cockney, a costermonger well known in the East End, volunteered.
+He could neither read nor write, so we fixed him up with francs, a
+sandbag, and a list.
+
+Hours passed, the strafe became particularly heavy, and we began to
+fear our old pal had been hit.
+
+Suddenly during a lull in the shelling far away along the ravine we
+heard a voice shouting, "Ere's yer fine 'eads er salery 'orl white." He
+was winning through.--_"Sparks," Lowestoft, Suffolk._
+
+
+The Old Soldier Falls
+
+After my battalion had been almost wiped out in the 1918 retirement, I
+was transferred to the 1st Batt. Middlesex Regt. One old soldier, known
+to us as "Darky," who had been out since '14, reported at B.H.Q. that
+he wanted to go up the front line with his old mates instead of resting
+behind the line.
+
+His wish was granted. He was detailed to escort a party of us to the
+front line.
+
+All went well till we arrived at the support line, where we were told
+to be careful of snipers.
+
+We had only gone 20 yards further when the old soldier fell back into
+my arms, shot through the head. He was dying when he opened his eyes
+and said to me, "Straight on, lad. You can find your way now."--_A. H.
+Walker, 59 Wilberforce Road, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+Not Meant For Him
+
+At the end of September 1917 my regiment (5th Seaforth Highlanders)
+were troubled by bombing raids by enemy aircraft at the unhealthy
+regularity of one raid per hour. We were under canvas at Siege Camp,
+in the Ypres sector, and being near to a battery of large guns we were
+on visiting terms with some of the gunners, who were for the most part
+London men.
+
+A Lewisham man was writing a letter in our tent one day when we
+again had the tip that the Germans were flying towards us. So we all
+scattered.
+
+After the raid we returned to our tent and were surprised to see our
+artillery friend still writing his letter. We asked him whether he
+had stayed there the whole time and in reply he read us the following
+passage from his letter which he had written during the raid:
+
+"As I write this letter Jerry is bombing the Jocks, but although I am
+in their camp, being a Londoner, I suppose the raid is not meant for
+me, and I feel quite safe."--_W. A. Bull, M.M., 62 Norman Road, llford,
+Essex._
+
+
+An Extra Fast Bowler
+
+During the defence of Antwerp in October 1914 my chum, who was
+wicket-keeper in the Corps cricket team, got hit in the head.
+
+I was with him when he came to, and asked him what happened.
+
+"Extra fast one on the leg side," was his reply.--_J. Russell (late
+R.M.L.I.), 8 Northcote Road, Deal, Kent._
+
+
+"I'll Call a Taxi, Sir"
+
+During an engagement in East Africa an officer was badly wounded. Bill,
+from Bermondsey, rode out to him on a mule. Whilst he was trying to get
+the officer away on his mule the animal bolted. Bill then said, "Me
+mule 'opped it, sir. 'E's a fousand miles from 'ere, so I'll giv yer a
+lift on my Bill and Jack (back)."
+
+The officer was too heavy, so Bill put him gently on the ground saying,
+"Sorry, sir, I'll 'ave ter call a taxi." Bill then ran 500 yards under
+heavy machine-gun fire to where the armoured cars were under cover. He
+brought one out, and thereby saved the officer's life.
+
+After the incident, Bill's attention was drawn to a bullet hole in his
+pith helmet. "Blimey," he said, "what a shot! If he 'adn't a missed me,
+'e'd a 'it me." Bill was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.--_W.
+B. Higgins, D.C.M. (late Corpl. Mounted Infantry), 46 Stanley Road,
+Ilford._
+
+
+Attack in "Birthday Clothes"
+
+We came out of the line on the night of June 14-15, 1917, to "bivvies"
+at Mory, after a hot time from both Fritz and weather at Bullecourt.
+When dawn broke we were astonished and delighted to see a "bath."
+Whilst we were in the line our Pioneers had a brain wave, dug a hole in
+the ground, lined it with a tarpaulin sheet, and filled it with water.
+
+As our last bath was at Achiet-le-Petit six weeks before, there was a
+tremendous crowd waiting "mit nodings on," because there was "standing
+room only" for about twenty in the bath.
+
+Whilst ablutions were in progress an aeroplane was heard, but no
+notice was taken because it was flying so low--"one of ours" everybody
+thought. When it came nearer there was a shout, "Strewth, it's a Jerry
+plane."
+
+Baths were "off" for the moment and there was a stampede to the
+"bivvies" for rifles. It was the funniest thing in the world to see
+fellows running about in their "birthday suits" plus only tin hats,
+taking pot shots at the aeroplane.
+
+Even Fritz seemed surprised, because it was some moments before he
+replied with his machine gun.
+
+We watched him fly away back to his own lines and a voice broke the
+silence with, "Blinkin' fools to put on our tin 'ats. Uvverwise 'ole
+Fritz wouldn't a known but what we might be Germans."
+
+I often wonder if any other battalion had the "honour" of "attacking
+the enemy" clad only in tin hats.--_G. M. Rampton (late 12th London
+Regt., "Rangers"), 43 Cromwell Road, Winchester._
+
+
+His Good-bye to the Q.M.
+
+Scene, Ypres, May 1915. The battalion to which I belonged had been
+heavily shelled for many hours, and among the casualties was "Topper"
+Brown, a Cockney, who was always in trouble for losing items of his
+kit. Taken to the dressing station to have a badly shattered foot
+amputated, he recovered consciousness to find the C.Q.M.S. standing by
+the stretcher on which he lay.
+
+The C.Q.M.S., not knowing the extent of Brown's injury, inquired,
+"What's the trouble, Brown?"
+
+In a weak voice the Cockney replied, "Lost one boot and one sock again,
+Quarter."--_E. E. Daniels (late K.R.R.), 178 Caledonian Road, N.1._
+
+
+From Bow and Harrow
+
+We were in the line at Neuville St. Vaast in 1916. A raid had just been
+carried out. In the party were two inseparable chums, one from Bow and
+one from Harrow. (Of course they were known as Bow and Arrow.)
+
+The bulk of the raiders had returned, but some were yet to come in.
+Some time later three forms were seen crawling towards our line. They
+were promptly helped in.
+
+As their faces were blackened they were hard to recognise, and a
+corporal asked them who they were.
+
+"Don't yer know us?" said the chap from Bow. "We're Bow and Arrow."
+"Blimey!" said another Cockney standing by. "And I suppose the other
+bloke's Robin 'ood, aint 'e."--_G. Holloway (late London Regt. and 180
+M.G.C.), 179 Lewis Buildings, West Kensington, W.14._
+
+
+Piccadilly in the Front Line
+
+Towards the end of September 1918 I was one of a party of nine men and
+an officer taking part in a silent raid in the Ypres sector, a little
+in front of the well-known spot called Swan and Edgar's Corner. The
+raid was the outcome of an order from Headquarters demanding prisoners
+for information.
+
+Everything had been nicely arranged. We were to approach the German
+line by stealth, surprise an outpost, and get back quickly to our own
+trenches with the prisoners.
+
+Owing perhaps to the wretchedness of the night--it was pouring with
+rain, and intensely black--things did not work according to plan.
+Instead of reaching our objective, our party became divided, and the
+group that I was with got hopelessly lost. There were five of us,
+including "Ginger," a Cockney.
+
+We trod warily for about an hour, when we suddenly came up against a
+barbed-wire entanglement, in the centre of which we could just make
+out the figure of a solitary German. After whispered consultation, we
+decided to take him prisoner, knowing that the German, having been
+stationary, had not lost sense of direction and could guide us back
+to our line. Noiselessly surmounting the barbed wire, we crept up to
+him and in a second Ginger was on him. Pointing his bayonet in Fritz's
+back, he said, "Nah, then, you blighter, show us the way 'ome."
+
+Very coolly and without the slightest trace of fear, the German replied
+in perfect English, "I suppose you mean me to lead you to the British
+trenches."
+
+"Oh!" said Ginger, "so yer speak English, do yer?"
+
+"Yes," said the German, "I was a waiter at a restaurant in Piccadilly
+before the War."
+
+"Piccadilly, eh? You're just the feller we want. Take us as far as Swan
+and Edgar's Corner."--_R. Allen (late Middlesex Regt., 41st Division),
+7 Moreland Street, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+"Wag's" Exhortation
+
+On a bitterly cold night, with a thick fog settling, the Middlesex
+Regt. set out on a raid on a large scale on the enemy's trenches.
+Fritz must have got wind of it, for when they were about half-way
+across the enemy guns opened fire and simply raked No Man's Land. The
+air was alive with shrapnel and nearly two-thirds of the raiders were
+casualties in no time.
+
+Those that could tried to crawl back to our lines, but soon lost
+all direction in the fog. About half a dozen of them crawled into a
+shell-hole and lay there wounded or exhausted from their efforts, and
+afraid to move while the bombardment continued.
+
+Meanwhile "Wag" Bennett, a Cockney, though badly wounded, had dragged
+himself out of a shell-hole, and was crawling towards what proved later
+to be the enemy lines when he saw the forms of the other fellows in the
+darkness. As he peered down upon them he called out, "Strike me pink!
+Lyin' abaht dahn there as if you was at the 'Otel Cissle, while there's
+a ruddy war agoin' on. Come on up aht of it, else you'll git us all a
+bad name."
+
+In a moment they were heartened, and they crawled out, following "Wag"
+on their hands and knees and eventually regained our lines. Poor "Wag"
+died soon afterwards from his wounds.--_H. Newing, 1 Park Cottages,
+Straightsmouth, Greenwich, S.E.10._
+
+
+Making a King of Him
+
+Our company of the Middlesex Regiment had captured a hill from Johnny
+Turk one evening, and at once prepared for the counter-attack on the
+morrow. My platoon was busy making a trench. On the parapet we placed
+large stones instead of sandbags.
+
+During these operations we were greeted with machine-gun fire from
+Johnny and, our numbers being small, we had to keep firing from
+different positions so as to give the impression that we were stronger
+than we really were.
+
+It was while we were scrambling from one position to another that
+"Smudger" Smith, from Hammersmith, said: "Love us, Sarge, 'ow's this
+for a blinkin' game of draughts?" The words were hardly out of his
+mouth when Johnny dropped a 5·9 about thirty yards away. The force of
+the explosion shook one of the stones from the parapet right on to
+"Smudger's" head, and he was knocked out.
+
+When he came round his first words were: "Blimey, they must 'ave 'eard
+me to crown me like that."--_W. R. Mills (late Sergt., 2/10th Middlesex
+Regt.), 15 Canterbury Road, Colchester, Essex._
+
+
+"Peace? Not wiv you 'ere!"
+
+Two Cockney pals who were always trying to get the better of one
+another in a battle of words by greeting each other with such remarks
+as "Ain't you blinkin' well dead yet?" earned for themselves the
+nick-names of Bill and Coo.
+
+One evening they were sent to fetch water, and on the return journey
+the Germans started to shell rather heavily.
+
+Coo ran more quickly than Bill and fell into a shell-hole. He scrambled
+out in time to see his pal blown sky high by what appeared to be a
+direct hit.
+
+Coo was heard to remark: "I always told 'im 'e ought to be reported
+missing, and blimey if 'e ain't."
+
+He then went to see if he could find the body: instead he found Bill
+alive, though badly wounded.
+
+When finally Coo got his pal back to the trench, Bill opened his eyes.
+Seeing Coo bending over him, he said: "Lumme, I thought peace 'ad come
+at last, but it ain't--not wiv you 'ere."--_William Walker, 30 Park
+Road, Stopsley Road, Luton, Beds._
+
+
+An Expert on Shells
+
+We were billeted in the vaults of Ypres Post Office. Towards dusk of
+a summer's day in 1916 four of us were lounging at the top of the
+vault stairs, discussing the noise made by different shells. Jerry,
+a Cockney, was saying, "Yes, yer can always tell big 'uns--they
+shuffles," and went on to demonstrate with _Shsh-shsh-shsh_, when
+someone said "Listen!"
+
+There was the real sound, and coming straight for us. We dived or fell
+to the bottom of the stairs. Followed a terrific "crump" right in the
+entrance, which was completely blocked up.
+
+Every candle and lamp was blown out; we were choking with dust and
+showered with bricks and masonry.
+
+There was a short silence, and Jerry's voice from the darkness said,
+"There y'are; wot did I tell yer?"--_H. W. Lake, London._
+
+
+A Camel "on the Waggon"
+
+During the battle of Gaza in April 1917 camels were used for the
+conveyance of wounded. Each camel carried a stretcher on either side
+of its hump. Travelling in this manner was something akin to a rough
+Channel crossing.
+
+[Illustration: "I believe he was drunk before we set eyes on him."]
+
+I was wounded in the leg. My companion was severely wounded in both
+legs. Some very uncomplimentary remarks were passed between us
+concerning camels, particularly the one which was carrying us.
+
+When we arrived at a field dressing-station a sergeant of the R.A.M.C.
+came along with liquid refreshments.
+
+"Sergeant," said my chum, "if you give this bloke (indicating the
+camel) anything to drink I'm going to walk, 'cos I believe the blighter
+was drunk before we ever set eyes on him."--_Albert J. Fairall, 43
+Melbourne Road, Leyton, E.10._
+
+
+Parting Presents
+
+It was on Passchendaele Ridge in 1917. Jerry had been giving us a hot
+time with his heavies. Just before daybreak our telephone line went
+west and we could not get through to our O.P.
+
+I was detailed to go out and repair the line with a young Cockney from
+Hackney. He had only been with us a few days and it was his first time
+up the line.
+
+We had mended one break when shells dropped all round us. When I got
+to my feet, I saw my pal lying several feet away. I escaped with a few
+splinters and shock. I dragged my chum to a shell-hole which was full
+of water and found he was badly hit about the shoulder, chest, and leg.
+I dressed him as best I possibly could, when, _bang_, a shell seemed
+to drop right on us and something came hurtling into our hole with a
+splash.
+
+It turned out to be a duckboard. I propped my chum against it to stop
+him slipping back into the water. After a few minutes he opened his
+eyes, and though in terrible pain, smiled and said, "Lummy, Jeff, old
+Jerry ain't so bad, after all. He has given me a nice souvenir to take
+to Blighty and now he has sent me a raft to cross the Pond on." Then he
+became unconscious.
+
+It was now daybreak and quiet. I pulled him out of the hole and went
+and repaired the line. We got him away all right, but I never heard
+from him. I only hope he pulled through: he showed pluck.--_Signaller
+H. Jeffrey (late Royal Artillery), 13 Bright Road, Luton, Chatham,
+Kent._
+
+
+Bluebottles and Wopses
+
+We had just gone into the front line. Two of us had not been there
+before.
+
+During a conversation with a Cockney comrade, an old hand, we told him
+of our dislike of bombs. He tried to re-assure us something like this:
+"Nah, don't let them worry you. You treat 'em just like blue-bottles,
+only different. With a blue-bottle you watch where it settles an' 'it
+it, but with bombs, you watch where they're goin' to settle and 'op it.
+It's quite simple."
+
+A short time after a small German bomb came over and knocked out our
+adviser. My friend and I picked him up and tried to help him. He was
+seriously hurt. As we lifted him up my friend said to him, "You didn't
+get your blue-bottle that time, did you?" He smiled back as he replied:
+"'Twasn't a blue-bottle, mate; must 'ave been a blinkin' wopse."--_C.
+Booth, 5 Creighton Road, N.W.6._
+
+
+The Cheerful "Card"
+
+On that June morning in 1917 when Messines Ridge went up, a young chap
+was brought in to our A.D.S. in Woodcote Farm. A piece of shell had
+torn a great gap in each thigh. Whilst the sergeant was applying the
+iodine by means of a spray the M.O. asked, "How are things going this
+morning?" The lad was wearing a red heart as his battalion sign, and
+despite his great pain he answered: "O.K. sir. Hearts were trumps this
+morning."--_R. J. Graff, 3/5th L.F.A., 47th Division, 20 Lawrie Park
+Road, Sydenham._
+
+
+Great Stuff This Shrapnel
+
+During the retreat from Mons it was the cavalry's work to hold up the
+Germans as long as possible, to allow our infantry to get in position.
+
+One day we had a good way to run to our horses, being closely pursued
+by the Germans. When we reached them we were all more or less out of
+breath. A little Cockney was so winded that he could hardly reach his
+stirrup, which kept slipping from under his foot.
+
+Just then a shrapnel shell burst directly overhead, and the Cockney,
+without using his stirrup, vaulted clean into the saddle.
+
+As we galloped off he gasped, "Blimey, don't they put new life in yer?
+They're as good as Kruschens."--_E. H. (late R.H.G.), 87 Alpha Road,
+Surbiton, Surrey._
+
+
+Wot a War!
+
+Three of us were sitting on the high ground on the Gallipoli Beach
+watching shells dropping from the Turk positions.
+
+A "G.S." wagon was proceeding slowly along below us, the driver huddled
+in his coat, for the air was chill.
+
+Suddenly he jumped from the wagon and ran in our direction--he had
+heard the shell before we had.
+
+The next moment the wagon was proceeding skywards in many directions,
+and the horses were departing at top speed in different directions.
+
+The driver surveyed the scene for a moment and then in a very
+matter-of-fact voice said: "Blimey! See that? Now I suppose I've
+got to _walk_ back, and me up all night--wot a war!" And away he
+trudged!--_C. J. A., N.W.11._
+
+
+The Umpire
+
+After a retreat in May 1915 we saw, lying between our fresh position
+and the German lines, an English soldier whom we took to be dead.
+
+Later, however, we advanced again, and discovered that the man was not
+dead, but badly wounded.
+
+On being asked who he was, he replied in a very weak voice, "I fink
+I must be the blinkin' umpire."--_W. King (late Royal Fusiliers), 94
+Manor Grove, Richmond, Surrey._
+
+
+"Don't Tell 'Aig"
+
+Little "Ginger" was the life and soul of our platoon until he was
+wounded on the Somme in 1918.
+
+As he was carried off to the dressing-station he waved his hand feebly
+over the side of the stretcher and whispered, "Don't tell 'Aig! He'd
+worry somethin' shockin'."--_G. E. Morris (late Royal Fusiliers), 368
+Ivydale Road, Peckham Rye, S.E.15._
+
+
+"... In Love and War"
+
+During a most unpleasant night bombing raid on the transport lines at
+Haillecourt the occupants of a Nissen hut were waiting for the next
+crash when out of the darkness and silence came the Cockney voice of
+a lorry driver saying to his mate, "'Well,' I sez to 'er, I sez, 'You
+do as you like, and I can't say no fairer than that, can I?'"--_F. R.
+Jelley, Upland Road, Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"Afraid of Yer Own Shells"
+
+I was on the Italian front in June 1918, and our battery was being
+strafed by the Austrians with huge armour-piercing shells, which made
+a noise like an express train coming at you, and exploded with a
+deafening roar.
+
+An O.K. had just registered on one of our guns, blowing the wheels and
+masses of rock sky-high. A party of about twenty Austrian prisoners,
+in charge of a single Cockney, were passing our position at the time,
+and the effect of the explosion on the prisoners was startling. They
+scattered in all directions, vainly pursued by the Cockney, who
+reminded me of a sheep-dog trying to get his flock together.
+
+At last he paused. "You windy lot o' blighters," he shouted as he
+spat on the ground in evident disgust, "afraid of yer own bloomin'
+shells!"--_S. Curtis, 20 Palace Road, Upper Norwood, S.E.19._
+
+
+The Leader of the Blind
+
+In July 1918, at a casualty clearing station occupying temporary
+quarters in the old College of St. Vincent at ruined Senlis we dealt
+with 7,000 wounded in eight days. One night when we were more busy than
+usual an ambulance car brought up a load of gas-blinded men.
+
+A little man whose voice proclaimed the city of his birth--arm broken
+and face blistered with mustard gas, though he alone of the party could
+see--jumped out, looked around, and then whispered in my ear, "All
+serene, guv'nor, leave 'em to me."
+
+He turned towards the car and shouted inside, "Dalston Junction, change
+here for Hackney, Bow, and Poplar."
+
+Then gently helping each man to alight, he placed them in a line with
+right hand on the shoulder of the man in front, took his position
+forward and led them all in, calling softly as he advanced, "Slow
+march, left, left, I had a good job and I _left_ it."--_Henry T. Lowde
+(late 63rd C.C.S., R.A.M.C.), 101 Stanhope Gardens, Harringay, N.4._
+
+
+Pity the Poor Ducks
+
+We were in the Passchendaele sector in 1917, and all who were there
+know there were no trenches--just shell-holes half-filled with water.
+
+Jerry had been strafing us for two days without a stop and of our
+platoon of twenty-three men only seven came out alive. As we were
+coming down the duckboard track after being relieved Jerry started to
+put over a barrage. We had to dive for the best cover we could get.
+
+Three of us jumped into a large shell-hole, up to our necks in water.
+As the shells dropped around us we kept ducking our heads under the
+water.
+
+Bert Norton, one of us--a Cockney--said: "Strike, we're like the little
+ducks in 'Yde Park--keep going under."
+
+After another shell had burst and we had just come up to breathe Bert
+chimed in again with: "Blimey, mustn't it be awful to have to get your
+living by ducking?"--_J. A. Wood, 185 Dalston Lane, E.8._
+
+
+Waiting Room Only
+
+It was in No Man's Land, and a party of New Zealand troops were making
+for shelter in a disabled British tank to avoid the downpour of
+shrapnel. They were about to swarm into the tank when the head of a
+London Tommy popped out of an aperture, and he exclaimed, "Blimey. Hop
+it! This is a waiting room, not a blinkin' bee-hive."--_A. E. Wragg, 1
+Downs Road, Beckenham, Kent._
+
+
+Not Yet Blasé
+
+We arrived at the Cambrai front in 1917--just a small bunch of
+Cockneys--and were attached to the Welsh Brigade of Artillery, being
+told to report to B.H.Q. up the sunken road in front of Bapaume.
+
+En route our escort of Welshmen were telling us of the "terrible"
+shelling up the line. It was no leg pulling, for we quickly found out
+for ourselves that it was hot and furious.
+
+Down we all went for cover as best we could, except one Cockney who
+stood as one spellbound watching the bursting of the shells. One of the
+Welshmen yelled out, "Drop down, Cockie!" The Cockney turned round, to
+the wonderment and amusement of the rest, with the retort, "Blimey! Get
+away with yer, you're windy. I've only just come out!"--_Driver W. H.
+Allen (attached 1st Glamorgan R.H.A.), 8 Maiden Crescent, Kentish Town,
+N.W.1._
+
+
+Paid with a Mills
+
+During severe fighting in Delville Wood in August 1916 our regiment
+(the East Surreys) was cut off for about three days and was reduced to
+a mere handful of men, but still we kept up our joking and spirits.
+
+A young Cockney, who was an adept at rhyming slang, rolled over, dead
+as I thought, for blood was streaming from his neck and head. But he
+sat up again and, wiping his hand across his forehead, exclaimed:
+"Strike me pink! One on the top of my loaf of bread (head), and one
+in the bushel and peck (neck)." Then, slinging over a Mills bomb, he
+shouted: "'Ere, Fritz, my thanks for a Blighty ticket."--_A. Dennis, 9
+Somers Road, Brixton Hill, S.W.2._
+
+
+The Guns' Obligato
+
+The day after the Canadians attacked Vimy Ridge my battalion of
+the Royal Fusiliers advanced from Bully Grenay to a château on the
+outskirts of Lieven under heavy shell fire.
+
+[Illustration: "Tipperary!"]
+
+At the back of the château a street led to the main road to the town.
+There, despite the bombardment, we found a Cockney Tommy of the Buffs
+playing "Tipperary" on a piano which had been blown out of a house into
+the road.
+
+We joined in--until a shell took the top off the château, when we
+scattered!--_L. A. Utton, 184 Coteford Street, Tooting, S.W._
+
+
+In the Garden of Eden
+
+We had reached the district in "Mespot" reputed to be the Garden of
+Eden. One evening I was making my way with six men to relieve the guard
+on some ammunition barges lying by the bank of the Tigris.
+
+We had approached to within about one hundred yards of these, when the
+Turks started sending over some "long-rangers." The sixth shell scored
+a direct hit on the centre barge, and within a few seconds the whole
+lot went up in what seemed like the greatest explosion of all time.
+Apart from being knocked over with the shock, we escaped injury, with
+the exception of a Cockney in our company.
+
+Most of his clothing, except his boots, had been stripped from his
+body, and his back was bleeding. Slowly he struggled to his hands and
+knees, and surveying his nakedness, said: "Now where's that blinkin'
+fig tree?"--_F. Dennis, 19 Crewdson Road, Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Santa Claus in a Hurry
+
+A forward observation officer of the Artillery was on duty keeping
+watch on Watling Crater, Vimy Ridge, towards the end of 1916.
+
+The observation post was the remains of a house, very much battered.
+The officer had to crawl up what had once been a large fireplace, where
+he had the protection of the only piece of wall that remained standing.
+
+He was engrossed on his task when the arrival of a "Minnie" shook the
+foundations of the place, and down he came in a shower of bricks and
+mortar with his shrapnel helmet not at the regimental angle.
+
+A couple of Cockney Tommies had also made a dive for the shelter of
+this pile of bricks and were crouching down, when the officer crawled
+from the fireplace. "Quick, Joe," said one of the Cockneys, "'ang
+up yer socks--'ere comes ole Santa Claus!"--_A. J. Robinson (late
+Sergeant, R.F.A.), 21 Clowders Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+What Paderewski was Missing
+
+It was on the night of October 27, 1917, at Passchendaele Ridge. Both
+sides were "letting it go hell for leather," and we were feeling none
+too comfortable crouching in shell-holes and taking what cover we could.
+
+The ground fairly shook--and so did we for that matter--with the heavy
+explosions and the din was ear-splitting.
+
+Just for something to say I called out to the chap in the next
+shell-hole--a Brentford lad he was: "What d'you think of it, Alf?"
+
+"Not much," he said, "I was just finkin' if Paderewski could get only
+this on 'is ol' jo-anner."--_M. Hooker, 325A Md. Qrs., Henlow Camp,
+Bedford._
+
+
+A Target, but No Offers
+
+During the battle of the Somme, in September 1916, our Lewis gun post
+was in a little loop trench jutting out from the front line at a place
+called, I believe, Lone Tree, just before Combles. Jerry's front line
+was not many yards away, and it was a very warm spot.
+
+Several casualties had occurred during the morning through sniping,
+and one enterprising chap had scored a bull's-eye on the top of our
+periscope.
+
+Things quietened down a bit in the afternoon, and about 4 p.m. our
+captain, who already had the M.C., came along and said to our corporal,
+"I believe the Germans have gone."
+
+A Cockney member of our team, overhearing this, said, "Well, it won't
+take long to find out," and jumping upon the fire-step exposed himself
+from the waist upwards above the parapet.
+
+After a minute's breathless silence he turned to the captain and said,
+with a jerk of his thumb, "They've hopped it, sir."
+
+That night we and our French friends entered Combles.--_M. Chittenden
+(late "C" Coy., 1/16th London Regt., Q.W.R.), 26 King Edward Road,
+Waltham Cross, Herts._
+
+
+Their own Lord Mayor's Show
+
+In April 1918 our unit was billeted near Amiens in a small village from
+which the inhabitants had been evacuated two days earlier, owing to the
+German advance.
+
+On the second day of our stay there Jerry was shelling the steeple of
+the village church, and we had taken cover in the cellars under the
+village school. All at once we heard roars of laughter coming from the
+street, and wondering what on earth anyone could find to laugh at, we
+tumbled up to have a look.
+
+The sight that met our eyes was this: Gravely walking down the middle
+of the street were two of the "Hackney Ghurkas," the foremost of whom
+was dressed in a frock coat and top hat, evidently the property of the
+village _maire_, and leading a decorated mule upon the head of which
+was tied the most gaudy "creation" which ever adorned a woman's head.
+
+The second Cockney was clad in the full garb of a twenty-stone French
+peasant woman, hat and all, and was dragging at the end of a chain a
+stuffed fox, minus its glass case, but still fastened to its baseboard.
+
+They solemnly paraded the whole length of the street and back again,
+and were heard to remark that the village was having at least one Lord
+Mayor's Show before Jerry captured it!
+
+And this happened at the darkest time of the war, when our backs were
+to the wall.--_A. C. P. (late 58th London Division), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Pill-Box Crown and Anchor
+
+In the fighting around Westhoek in August 1917 the 56th Division were
+engaged in a series of attacks on the Nonne Boschen Wood, and owing to
+the boggy nature of the ground the position was rather obscure.
+
+A platoon of one of the London battalions was holding a pill-box
+which had been taken from the Germans during the day. In the night a
+counter-attack was made in the immediate vicinity of the pill-box,
+which left some doubt as to whether it had again fallen to the enemy.
+
+A patrol was sent out to investigate. After cautiously approaching the
+position and being challenged in a Cockney tongue, they entered the
+pill-box, and were astonished to see the occupants playing crown and
+anchor.
+
+The isolated and dangerous position was explained to the sergeant in
+charge, but he nonchalantly replied, "Yes, I know all abaht that; but,
+yer see, wot's the use of frightenin' the boys any more? There's been
+enough row rahnd 'ere all night as it is."--_N. Butcher (late 3rd
+Londons), 43 Tankerville Drive, Leigh-on-Sea._
+
+
+"C.O.'s Paid 'is Phone Bill"
+
+On the Somme, during the big push of 1916, we had a section of
+Signallers attached to our regiment to keep the communications during
+the advance. Of the two attached to our company, one was a Cockney.
+He had kept in touch with the "powers that be" without a hitch until
+his wire was cut by a shell. He followed his wire back and made the
+necessary repair. Three times he made the same journey for the same
+reason. His mate was killed by a shrapnel shell and he himself had his
+left arm shattered: but to him only one thing mattered, and that was to
+"keep in touch." So he stuck to his job.
+
+The wire was broken a fourth time, and as he was about to follow it
+back, a runner came up from the C.O. wanting to know why the signaller
+was not in communication. He started back along his wire and as he went
+he said, "Tell 'im to pay 'is last account, an' maybe the telephone
+will be re-connected."
+
+A permanent line was fixed before he allowed the stretcher-bearers
+to take him away. My chum had taken his post at the end of the wire,
+and as the signaller was being carried away he called out feebly,
+"You're in touch with H.Q. C.O.'s paid 'is bill, an' we'll win the war
+yet."--_L. N. Loder, M.C. (late Indian Army), Streatham._
+
+
+The "Garden Party Crasher"
+
+In April 1917 two companies of our battalion were ordered to make a big
+raid opposite the sugar refineries at 14 Bis, near Loos. Two lines of
+enemy trenches had to be taken and the raiding party, when finished,
+were to go back to billets at Mazingarbe while the Durhams took over
+our trenches.
+
+My batman Beedles had instructions to go back to billets with all my
+kit, and wait there for my return. I was in charge of the right half of
+the first wave of the raid, and after a bit of a scrap we got into the
+German front line.
+
+Having completed our job of blowing up concrete emplacements and
+dug-outs, we were waiting for the signal to return to our lines when,
+to my surprise, Beedles came strolling through the German wire. When he
+saw me he called out above the row going on: "I 'opes yer don't mind me
+'aving come to the garden party wivout an invertition, sir?"
+
+The intrepid fellow had taken all my kit back to billets some four
+miles, made the return journey, and come across No Man's Land to find
+me, and see me safely back; an act which might easily have cost him
+his life.--_L. W. Lees (Lieut.), late 11th Batt. Essex Regt., "Meadow
+Croft," Stoke Poges, Bucks._
+
+
+Those Big Wasps
+
+Salonika, 1918, a perfect summer's day. The 2/17th London Regiment are
+marching along a dusty road up to the Doiran Lake. Suddenly, out of the
+blue, three bombing planes appear. The order is given to scatter.
+
+Meanwhile, up comes an anti-aircraft gun, complete with crew on lorry.
+Soon shells are speeding up, and little small puffs of white smoke
+appear as they burst; but the planes are too high for them. A Cockney
+of the regiment puts his hands to his mouth and shouts to the crew:
+"Hi, don't hunch 'em; let 'em settle."--_A. G. Sullings (late 2/17th
+London Regiment), 130 Cann Hall Road, Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Why he Looked for Help
+
+On July 1, 1916, the 56th (London) Division attacked at Hebuterne,
+and during the morning I was engaged (as a lineman) in repairing our
+telephone lines between Battalion and Brigade H.Q. I had just been
+temporarily knocked out by a flat piece of shell and had been attended
+by a stretcher-bearer, who then left me and proceeded on his way back
+to a dressing station I had previously passed, whilst I went farther on
+down the trench to get on with my job.
+
+I had not gone many yards when I met a very young private of the 12th
+Londons (the Rangers). One of his arms was hanging limp and was, I
+should think, broken in two or three places. He was cut and bleeding
+about the face, and was altogether in a sorry plight.
+
+He stopped and asked me, "Is there a dressing station down there,
+mate?" pointing along the way I had come, and I replied, "Yes, keep
+straight on down the trench. It's a good way down. But," I added,
+"there's a stretcher-bearer only just gone along. Shall I see if I can
+get him for you?"
+
+His reply I shall never forget: "Oh, I don't want him for _me_. I want
+someone to come back with me to get my mate. _He's hurt!_"--_Wm. R.
+Smith, 231 Halley Road, Manor Park, E.12._
+
+
+The Winkle Shell
+
+Above the entrance to a certain dug-out somewhere in Flanders some wit
+had fixed a board upon which was roughly painted, "The Winkle Shell."
+
+The ebb and tide of battle left the dug-out in German hands, but one
+day during an advance the British infantry recaptured the trench in
+which "The Winkle Shell" was situated.
+
+Along the trench came a Cockney with his rifle ready and his bayonet
+fixed. Hearing voices coming from the dug-out he halted, looked
+reflectively at the notice-board, and then cautiously poking his
+bayonet into the dug-out called out, "Nah, then, come on aht of it
+afore I gits me blinkin' 'pin' busy."--_Sidney A. Wood (late C/275
+Battery, R.F.A.), 32 Lucas Avenue, Upton Park, E.13._
+
+
+Forgot his Dancing Pumps
+
+We were in a trench in front of Carnoy on the Somme when the Germans
+made a raid on us. It was all over in a few minutes, and we were minus
+eight men--taken away by the raiders.
+
+Shortly afterwards I was standing in a bay feeling rather shaky when
+a face suddenly appeared over the top. I challenged, and was answered
+with these words:
+
+"It's orl right. It's me. They was a-takin' us to a dance over there,
+but I abaht-turned 'arfway acrorst an' crawled back fer me pumps."--_E.
+Smith (late Middlesex Regt.), 2 Barrack Road, Aldershot._
+
+
+Lift Out of Order
+
+One day in 1916 I was sitting with some pals in a German dug-out
+in High Wood. Like others of its kind, it had a steep, deep shaft.
+Suddenly a shell burst right in the mouth of the shaft above, and the
+next instant "Nobby," a Cockney stretcher-bearer, landed plump on his
+back in our midst. He was livid and bleeding, but his first words were:
+"Strike! I thought the lift were outer order!"--_J. E., Vauxhall,
+S.W.8._
+
+
+Lost: A Fly Whisk
+
+During the very hot summer of 1916 in Egypt it was necessary, while
+eating, to keep on flicking one hand to keep the flies away from one's
+mouth.
+
+One day a heavy shell came over and knocked down my Cockney chum, Tubby
+White. He got up, holding his wrist, and started looking round.
+
+I said: "What have you lost, Tubby?"
+
+"Blimey," he said, "can't you see I've lost me blooming fly whisk?" It
+was then I noticed he had lost his hand.--_J. T. Marshall (Middlesex
+Regiment), 17 Evandale Road, Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+Change at Wapping
+
+When Regina Trench was taken in 1916 it was in a terrible state, being
+half full of thick liquid mud. Some of the fellows, sooner than wade
+through this, were getting up and walking along the top, although in
+view of the Germans.
+
+The Cockney signaller who was with me at the time, after slithering
+along the trench for a time, said: "I've 'ad enough er this," and
+scrambled out of the trench.
+
+He had no sooner got on top when--_zipp_--and down he came with a
+bullet through his thigh.
+
+While bandaging his wound I said: "We're going to have a job to get you
+out of here, but we'll have a good try."
+
+"That's all right," said the Cockney, "you carry on an' leave me. I'll
+wait for a blinkin' barge and change at Wapping."--_H. Redford (late
+R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham._
+
+
+"The Canary's Flowed Away!"
+
+I was in charge of a party carrying material from the dump to the
+Engineers in the front line. One of the party, a man from Camberwell,
+was allotted a bulky roll of barbed wire.
+
+After a desperate struggle through the muddy and narrow support
+trenches, we reached the front line. There was still another 400 yards
+to go, and our Cockney decided to continue the journey along the
+parapet.
+
+He had not gone far before the German machine guns began to spit and he
+fell in a heap into the bottom of the trench with the coil of barbed
+wire on top of him.
+
+Thinking he was wounded, I went back to him and inquired if he was hit.
+
+"'It? 'It be blowed," he said, "but if somebody was to take this
+blinkin' birdcage orf me chest I might be able to get up."
+
+The journey was completed through the trench, our friend being a sorry
+sight of mud and cut fingers and face.
+
+On arriving at our destination he dropped the wire at the feet of
+the waiting corporal with the remark, "'Ere you are, mate; sorry the
+canary's flowed away."--_A. S. G. (47th Division), Kent._
+
+
+"Go it, Applegarf! I'll time yer!"
+
+Our battalion was making a counter-attack at Albert on March 29, 1918,
+against a veritable hail of lead. Wounded in the thigh, I tumbled into
+a huge shell hole, already occupied by two officers of the Fusiliers
+(Fusiliers had been on our left), a lance-corporal of my own battalion,
+and three other men (badly wounded).
+
+Whilst I was being dressed by the lance-corporal another man jumped in.
+He had a bullet in the chest. It didn't need an M.O. to see that he was
+"all in," and he knew it.
+
+He proved to be the most heroic Cockney I have ever seen. He had only
+minutes to live, and he told us not to waste valuable bandages on him.
+
+Thereupon one of the officers advised me to try to crawl back before my
+leg got stiff, as I would stand a poor chance of a stretcher later with
+so many badly-wounded men about. If I got back safe I was to direct
+stretcher-bearers to the shell hole.
+
+I told the officer that our battalion stretcher-bearers were behind
+a ridge only about 100 yards in the rear, and as my wound had not
+troubled me yet I would make a sprint for it, as the firing was still
+too heavy to be healthy.
+
+On hearing my remarks this heroic Cockney, who must also have been a
+thorough sportsman, grinned up at me and, with death written on his
+face, panted: "Go it, Applegarf, an' I'll time yer." [Applegarth was
+the professional sprint champion of the world.] The Cockney was dead
+when I left the shell hole.--_F. W. Brown (late 7th Suffolks), 247
+Balls Pond Road, Dalston, N._
+
+
+That Other Sort of Rain
+
+We were out doing a spot of wiring near Ypres, and the Germans
+evidently got to know about it. A few "stars" went up, and then the
+_rat-tat-tat_ of machine guns told us more than we wanted to know.
+
+We dived for shell holes. Anybody who knows the place will realise
+we did not have far to dive. I found myself beside a man who, in the
+middle of a somewhat unhealthy period, found time to soliloquise:
+
+"Knocked a bit right aht me tin 'at. Thought I'd copped it that time.
+Look, I can get me little finger through the 'ole. Blimey, 'ope it
+don't rain, I shall git me 'ead all wet."--_H. C. Augustus, 67 Paragon
+Road, E.9._
+
+[Illustration: "'Ope it don't rain; I'd get me 'ead wet."]
+
+
+Better Job for Him
+
+I was at Vimy Ridge in 1916. On the night I am writing about we were
+taking a well-earned few minutes' rest during a temporary lull. We were
+under one of the roughly-built shelters erected against the Ridge, and
+our only light was the quivering glimmer from a couple of candles. A
+shell screeched overhead and "busted" rather near to us--and out went
+the candles.
+
+"Smith, light up those candles," cried the sergeant-major to his
+batman. "Smithy," who stuttered, was rather shaken and took some time
+to strike a match and hold it steadily to the candles. But no sooner
+were the candles alight than another "whopper" put them out again.
+
+"Light up those ruddy candles!" cried the S.M. again, "and don't dawdle
+about it!"
+
+"Smithy," muttering terrible things to himself, was fumbling for the
+matches when the order came that a bombing party was required to clear
+"Jerry" out of a deep shell-hole.
+
+"'Ere!" said "Smithy" in his rich Cockney voice. "J-just m-my m-mark.
+I'd r-rather f-frow 'eggs' t-than light c-c-candles!"--_W. C. Roberts,
+5 Crampton Street, S.E.17._
+
+
+Sentry's Sudden Relief
+
+I was the next turn on guard at a battery position in Armentières one
+evening in the summer of 1917. A Cockney chum, whom I was going to
+relieve, was patrolling the position when suddenly over came a 5·9,
+which blew him about four yards away.
+
+As he scrambled to his feet our sergeant of the guard came along,
+and my chum's first words were, "Sorry, sergeant, for deserting me
+post."--_T. F. Smithers (late R.F.A.), 14 Hilda Road, Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+The World Kept Turnin'
+
+The Poperinghe-Ypres road. A large shell had just pitched. Among the
+wounded was a Cockney who was noted for his rendering on every possible
+occasion of that well-known song, "Let the Great Big World Keep
+Turning."
+
+He was lying on the roadway severely hurt. Another Cockney went up to
+him and said "'Ello, matey, 'urt? Why ain't yer singin' 'Let the Great
+Big World Keep Turnin',' eh?"
+
+The reply came: "I _was_ a singin' on it, Bill, but I never thought it
+would fly up and 'it me."--_Albert M. Morsley (late 85th Siege Battery
+Am. Col.), 198 Kempton Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+That Blinkin' "Money-box"
+
+I was limping back with a wounded knee after the taking of
+Monchy-le-Preux on April 11, 1917, when a perky little Cockney of
+the 13th Royal Fusiliers who had a bandaged head caught me up with a
+cheery, "Tike me Chalk Farm (arm), old dear, and we'll soon be 'ome."
+
+I was glad to accept his kindly offer, but our journey, to say the
+least, was a hazardous one, for the German guns, firing with open
+sights from the ridge in front of the Bois du Sart, were putting
+diagonal barrages across the road (down which, incidentally, the
+Dragoon Guards were coming magnificently out of action, with saddles
+emptying here and there as they swept through that deadly zone on that
+bleak afternoon).
+
+Presently we took refuge in a sandbag shelter on the side of the road,
+and were just congratulating ourselves on the snugness of our retreat,
+when a tank stopped outside. Its arrival brought fresh gun-fire on us,
+and before long a whizz-bang made a direct hit on our shelter.
+
+When we recovered from the shock, we found part of our roof missing,
+and my little pal, poking his bandaged head through the hole, thus
+addressed one of the crew of the tank who was just visible through a
+gun slit:
+
+"Oi, why don't yer tike yer money-box 'ome? This ain't a pull-up fer
+carmen!"
+
+The spirit that little Cockney imbued into me that day indirectly
+saved me the loss of a limb, for without him I do not think I would
+have reached the advance dressing station in time.--_D. Stuart (late
+Sergeant, 10th R.F., 37th Division) 103 St. Asaph Road, Brockley,
+S.E.4._
+
+
+"Oo, You Naughty Boy!"
+
+In front of Kut Al-'Amarah, April 1916, the third and last attack
+on the Sannaiyat position, on the day before General Townshend
+capitulated. Days of rain had rendered the ground a quagmire, and lack
+of rations, ammunition, and shelter had disheartened the relief force.
+
+The infantry advanced without adequate artillery support, and were
+swept by heavy machine-gun fire from the entrenched Turks. One fellow
+tripped over a strand of loose barbed wire, fell down, and in rising
+ripped the seat nearly off his shorts. Cursing, he rejoined the slowly
+moving line of advancing men.
+
+Suddenly one sensed one of those fateful moments when men in the mass
+are near to breaking point. Stealthy looks to right and left were
+given, and fear was in the men's hearts. The relentless tat-tat-tat of
+machine guns, the "singing" of the driven bullets, and the dropping of
+men seemed as if it never would end.
+
+A Cockney voice broke the fear-spell and restored manhood to men. "Oo,
+'Erbert, you naughty boy!" it said. "Look at what you've done to yer
+nice trahsers! 'Quarter' won't 'arf be cross. He said we wasn't to play
+rough games and tear our trahsers."--_L. W. Whiting (late 7th Meerut
+Division), 21 Dale Park Avenue, Carshalton, Surrey._
+
+
+Cool as a Cucumber
+
+Early in 1917 at Ypres I was in charge of part of the advance party
+taking over some trenches from another London battalion. After this
+task had been completed I was told of a funny incident of the previous
+night.
+
+It appeared that the battalion we were due to relieve had been
+surprised by a small party of the enemy seeking "information." During
+the mêlée in the trench a German "under-officer" had calmly walked over
+and picked up a Lewis gun which had been placed on a tripod on top
+of the trench some little distance from its usual emplacement. (This
+was done frequently when firing at night was necessary so as to avoid
+betraying the regular gun position.)
+
+A boyish-looking sentry of the battalion on the left jumped out of the
+trench and went after the Jerry who was on his way "home" with the
+gun in his arms. Placing his bayonet in dangerous proximity to the
+"under-officer's" back, the young Cockney exclaimed, "Hi! Where the
+'ell are yer goin' wiv that gun? Just you put the 'coocumber' back on
+the 'barrer' and shove yer blinkin' 'ands up!"
+
+The "under-officer" lost his prize and his liberty, and I understand
+the young sentry received the M.M.--_R. McMuldroch (late 15th London
+Regt., Civil Service Rifles), 13 Meadway, Bush Hill Park, Enfield._
+
+
+The Sergeant's Tears
+
+One afternoon on the Somme our battery received a severe strafe from
+5·9's and tear-gas shells. There was no particular "stunt" on, so we
+took cover in a trench behind the guns.
+
+When the strafe had finished, we found our gun resting on one wheel,
+with sights and shield smashed by a direct hit. There was tear gas
+hanging about, too, and we all felt anything but cheerful.
+
+Myself and detachment were solemnly standing around looking at the
+smashed gun, and as I was wiping tears from my eyes, Smithy, our bright
+Walworth lad, said: "Don't cry, Sarg'nt, they're bahnd ter give us
+anuvver."--_E. Rutson (late Sergeant, R.F.A., 47th London Division),
+43a Wardo Avenue, S.W.6._
+
+
+"But yer carn't 'elp Laughin'"
+
+There were a bunch of us Cockneys in our platoon, and we had just
+taken over some supports. It being a quiet sector, we were mooning and
+scrounging around, some on the parapet, some in the trenches, and some
+at the rear.
+
+All at once a shower of whizz-bangs and gas shells came over; our
+platoon "sub." started yelling "Gas." We dived for the dug-outs.
+
+Eight of us tried to scramble through a narrow opening at once, and we
+landed in a wriggling mass on the floor. Some were kneeling and some
+were sitting, all with serious faces, until one fellow said: "Phew,
+it's 'ell of a war, but yer carn't 'elp laughin', can yer?"--_B. J.
+Berry (late 9th Norfolk Regt.), 11 Rosemont Avenue, N. Finchley, N.12._
+
+
+"Only an Orphan"
+
+He came to the battalion about three weeks before going overseas, and
+fell straight into trouble. But his Cockney wit got him out of trouble
+as well as into it.
+
+He never received a parcel or letter, but still was always the life of
+our company. He never seemed to have a care.
+
+We had been in France about a fortnight when we were ordered to the
+front line and over the top. He was one of the first over, shouting
+"Where's the blighters." They brought him in riddled with bullets.
+
+When I asked if I could do anything for him, he said: "Are there many
+hurt?" "Not many," I replied. "Thank Heaven for that," he replied.
+"Nobody 'll worry over me. I'm only a blinkin' orphan."--_W. Blundell
+(late N.C.O., 2nd East Surreys), Cranworth Gardens, S.W.9._
+
+
+Joking at the Last
+
+It was after the attack by the 2nd Londons on the village of Aubigny au
+Bac. I was hit by shell splinters, and whilst I was looking for someone
+to dress my wounds I came across one of the lads lying by the roadside
+mortally wounded.
+
+As I bent over him to give him a drink he noticed my blood-streaked
+face and gasped: "Crikey! Your barber was blinkin' clumsy this
+morning." So passed a gallant 2nd London man.--_E. C. Easts (M.M.),
+Eliot Place, Blackheath, S.E.3._
+
+
+Everybody's War
+
+During the general advance on the Somme in August 1918 our platoon
+became isolated from the rest of the company.
+
+We had been under heavy shell-fire for about three hours, and when at
+last things seemed to have quietened down, a German plane came over. We
+immediately jumped for cover and were concealed from view.
+
+The plane had only circled round a couple of times when a Cockney
+private, unable to resist the temptation any longer, jumped up and had
+a pot at it.
+
+He had fired three rounds when the N.C.O. pulled him down and called
+him a fool for giving away our position.
+
+The Cockney turned round and replied, "Blimey, ain't I in this blinkin'
+war as well as 'im?"--_E. Purcell (late 9th Royal Fusiliers), 4
+Lyndhurst Grove, Peckham, S.E.15._
+
+
+Orders is Orders
+
+When I was with the 6th Dorsets at Hooge, a party of us under a Cockney
+lance-jack were sent down the Menin Road to draw rations. It seemed as
+though the Germans knew we were waiting at the corner, for they were
+dropping shells all around us.
+
+After a while a voice in the darkness cried: "Don't stay there, you
+chaps; that's Hell Fire Corner!"
+
+"Can't 'elp it, guv'nor," replied our lance-jack. "'Ell Fire Corner or
+'Eaven's Delight, we gotta stop 'ere till our rations comes up."--_H.
+W. Butler (late 6th Dorsets), 2 Flint Cottages, Stone, Kent._
+
+
+Leaving the Picture
+
+As we were going "over" at Passchendaele a big one dropped just behind
+our company runner and myself. Our runner gave a shout and stumbling on
+a little way, with his hand on his side, said: "Every picture tells a
+story"--and went down.
+
+I just stopped to look at him, and I am sorry to say his war had
+finished. He came from Bow.--_G. Hayward (late Rifle Brigade), Montague
+Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+Ginger's Gun Stopped
+
+I was in a Lewis gun section, and our sergeant got on our nerves while
+we were learning the gun by always drumming in our ears about the
+different stoppages of the gun when in action. My mate, Ginger Bryant,
+who lived at Stepney, could never remember the stops, and our sergeant
+was always rousing poor old Ginger.
+
+Well, we found ourselves one day in the front line and Jerry had
+started an attack. Ginger was No. 1 on the gun and I was lying beside
+him as No. 2. We were giving Jerry beans with our gun when a bomb hit
+it direct and blew Ginger and myself yards away.
+
+Ginger had his hand blown off, but crawled back to the gun, which was
+smashed to pieces. He gave one look at it and shouted to me: "Nah go
+and ask that blinkin' sergeant what number stoppage he calls this one!"
+Next thing he fainted.--_Edward Newson (late 1st West Surrey), 61
+Moneyer Street, Hoxton, N.1._
+
+
+A Careless Fellow
+
+An officer with our lot was a regular dare-devil. He always boasted
+that the German bullet had not yet been made which could find him.
+
+One day, regardless of his own safety, he was on the parapet, and
+though many shots came over he seemed to bear a charmed life.
+
+One of the men happened to put his head just out of the trench when a
+bullet immediately struck his "tin hat" sending him backwards into the
+trench.
+
+The officer, from the parapet, looked down and said, "You _are_ a
+fool, I told you not to show yourself."--_A. Smith (Cameronians), 40
+Whitechapel Road, E.1._
+
+
+Standing Up to the Turk
+
+In the second attempt to capture Gaza we were making our advance in
+face of heavy machine-gun fire. In covering the ground we crouched
+as much as possible, the Turks directed their fire accordingly, and
+casualties were numerous, so our Cockney humorist shouted: "Stand up,
+boys. It's best to be hit in yer props (legs) than in yer blinkin'
+office (head)."--_W. Reed (late 7th Battn., Essex Regiment), 3
+Shenfield Road, Woodford Green, Essex._
+
+
+Lodging with the Bombs
+
+I was driving a lorry along the road from Dickebusch to Ypres when the
+Germans started shelling with shrapnel and high explosive.
+
+By the side of the road was a cottage, partly ruined, with the
+window-space boarded up: and, with some idea of seeking protection from
+the flying fragments, I leaned up against one of the walls.
+
+I hadn't been there long when a face appeared at a gap in the boards,
+and a voice said: "Do yer fink y're safe there, mate, cos we're chock
+full o' bombs in 'ere."--_Edward Tracey, c/o Cowley Cottage, Cowley,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+In Fine Feather
+
+While on the Somme in 1916 my battery was sent to rest in a village
+behind the line. The billet allotted to us had been an hotel, and all
+the furniture, including bedsteads and feather mattresses, had been
+stored in the room which did duty as an orderly room.
+
+Returning one day from exercise, we saw a flight of enemy 'planes
+coming over, and as we approached the billet a bomb was dropped
+straight through the roof of our building, the sole occupant of which
+at the time was a Cockney signaller on duty, in touch with Brigade
+Headquarters.
+
+[Illustration: "They must 'ave 'it a blinkin' sparrer."]
+
+We hurried forward, expecting to find that our signaller had been
+killed. The orderly room was a scene of indescribable chaos. Papers
+were everywhere. Files and returns were mixed up with "iron rations,"
+while in a corner of the room was a pile of feathers about 4 feet
+deep--all that remained of the feather mattresses. Of our signaller
+there was no sign.
+
+As we looked around, however, his head appeared from beneath the
+feather pile. His face was streaming with blood, and he looked more
+dead than alive, but as he surveyed his temporary resting-place, a grin
+spread over his features, and he picked up a handful of feathers.
+
+"Blimey!" he observed, "they must 'ave 'it a blinkin'
+sparrer."--_"Gunner," Oxford Street, W.1._
+
+
+All the Fun of the Fair
+
+At Neuve Eglise, March 1918, we were suddenly attacked by Jerry, but
+drove him back. Every now and again we spotted Germans dodging across a
+gap in a hedge. At once a competition started as to who could catch a
+German with a bullet as he ran across the gap.
+
+"Reminds me of shooting at the bottles and fings at the fair," said my
+pal, another Cockney Highlander.
+
+A second later a piece of shrapnel caught him in the hand. "Blimey, I
+always said broken glass was dangerous," he remarked as he gazed sadly
+at the wound.--_F. Adams (late H.L.I.), 64 Homestead Road, Becontree,
+Essex._
+
+
+Teacup in a Storm
+
+We were in support trenches near Havrincourt Wood in September 1917. At
+mid-day it was exceptionally quiet there as a rule.
+
+Titch, our little Cockney cook, proceeded one day to make us some tea
+by the aid of four candles in a funk-hole. To aid this fire he added
+the usual bit of oily "waste," and thereby caused a thin trail of smoke
+to rise. The water was just on the boil when Jerry spotted our smoke
+and let fly in its direction everything he had handy.
+
+Our trench was battered flat.... We threw ourselves into a couple of
+old communication trenches. Looking around presently for our cook
+we found him sitting beneath a waterproof sheet calmly enjoying his
+sergeant-major's tea. "Ain't none of you blokes firsty?" was his
+greeting.--_R. J. Richards (late 61st Trench Mortar Battery, 20th
+London Division), 15 London Street, W.2._
+
+
+Jack's Unwelcome Present
+
+Our company were holding the line, or what _was_ a line of trenches a
+short time before, when Jerry opened out with all kinds of loudspeakers
+and musical instruments that go to make war real.
+
+We were knocked about and nearly blinded with smoke and flying
+sandbags. The best we could do was to grope our way about with arms
+outstretched to feel just where we were.
+
+Eventually someone clutched me, saying, "Is that you, Charlie--are you
+all right?"
+
+"Yes, Jack," I answer, "are you all right?"
+
+"Well, I don't know fer sure," he says as he dives his hand through
+his tunic to his chest and holds on to me with the other. I had a soft
+place in my heart for Jack, for nobody ever sent him a parcel, so what
+was mine was Jack's. But not the piece of shrapnel that came out when
+he withdrew his hand from inside his tunic!
+
+"The only thing that ever I had sent me--and that from Jerry!" says
+Jack. "We was always taught to love our enemies!"
+
+They sure loved us, for shortly after I received my little gift of
+love, which put me to by-by for several months. But that Cockney lad
+from East London never grumbled at his hard lot. He looked at me,
+his corporal, and no wonder he clung round my neck, for he has told
+me since the war that he was only sixteen then. A brave lad!--_D. C.
+Maskell (late 20th Battn. Middlesex Regt.), 25 Lindley Road, Leyton,
+E.10_.
+
+
+Goalie Lets One Through
+
+In September 1916 we landed in a portion of German trench and I was
+given orders to hang on. Shells were bursting all around us, so we
+decided to have a smoke.
+
+My two Cockney pals--Nobby and Harry, who were a goalie and
+centre-forward respectively--were noted for their zeal in keeping us
+alive.
+
+Nobby was eager to see what was going on over the top, so he had a
+peep--and for his pains got shot through the ear. He fell back in a
+heap and exclaimed, "Well saved, goalie! Couldn't been better if I'd
+tried."
+
+"Garn," said Harry, bending over him, "it's blinkin' well gorn right
+frew, mate."--_Patrick Beckwith, 5 Duke Road, Chiswick, W.4._
+
+
+A Good Samaritan Foiled
+
+I was rather badly wounded near Bullecourt, on the Arras front, and was
+lying on a stretcher outside the dressing station.
+
+Nearby stood a burly Cockney with one arm heavily bandaged. In the
+other hand he held his ration of hot coffee.
+
+Noticing my distress, he offered me his drink, saying, "'Ere y'are,
+mate, 'ave a swig at this." One of the stretcher-bearers cried: "Take
+that away! He mustn't have it!"
+
+The Cockney slunk off.
+
+"All right, ugly," he said. "Take the food aht of a poor bloke's mouf,
+would yer?"
+
+Afterwards I learned the stretcher-bearer, by his action, had saved my
+life. Still, I shan't forget my Cockney friend's generosity.--_A. P. S.
+(late 5th London Regiment), Ilford._
+
+
+Proof of Marksmanship
+
+Poperinghe: a pitch-black night. We were resting when a party of the
+West Indian Labour Company came marching past. Jerry sent one over.
+Luckily, only one of the party was hit.
+
+A voice from the darkness: "Alf! keep low, mate. Jerry 'as got his eye
+in--'e's 'it a nigger in the dark!"--_C. Jakeman (late 4/4th City of
+London Royal Fusiliers), 5 Hembridge Place, St. John's Wood, N.W.8._
+
+
+"Well, He Ain't Done In, See!"
+
+During the great German offensive in March 1918 our company was trying
+to hold the enemy at Albert. My platoon was in an old trench in front
+of Albert station, and was in rather a tight corner, the casualties
+being pretty heavy. A runner managed to get through to us with a
+message. He asked our sergeant to send a man to another platoon with
+the message.
+
+One of my pals, named Gordon, shouted, "Give it to me; I'll go."
+
+He crept out of the trench and up a steep incline and over the other
+side, and was apparently being peppered by machine-gun fire all the
+way. We had little hope of him ever getting there. About a couple of
+hours later another Cockney cried: "Blimey! He's coming back!"
+
+We could see him now, crawling towards us. He got within a dozen yards
+of our trench, and then a Jerry "coal-box" arrived. It knocked us into
+the mud at the bottom of our trench and seemed to blow Gordon, together
+with a ton or so of earth, twenty feet in the air, and he came down in
+the trench.
+
+"That's done the poor blighter in," said the other Cockney as we rushed
+to him. To our surprise Gordon spoke:
+
+"Well, he ain't done in--see!"
+
+He had got the message to the other platoon, and was little the worse
+for his experience of being blown skyward. I think that brave fellow's
+deed was one of many that had to go unrewarded.--_H. Nachbaur (late 7th
+Suffolks), 4 Burnham Road, St. Albans, Herts._
+
+
+"Baby's Fell Aht er Bed!"
+
+The day before our division (38th Welch) captured Mametz Wood on the
+Somme, in July 1916, our platoon occupied a recently captured German
+trench. We were examining in a very deep dug-out some of Jerry's
+black bread when a heavy shell landed almost at the entrance with a
+tremendous crash. Earth, filled sandbags, etc., came thundering down
+the steps, and my thoughts were of being buried alive about forty feet
+underground. But amid all the din, Sam (from Walworth) amused us with
+his cry: "Muvver! Baby's fell aht er bed!"--_P. Carter (late 1st London
+Welch), 6 Amhurst Terrace, Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Stamp Edging Wanted
+
+During severe fighting in Cambrai in 1917 we were taking up position
+in the front line when suddenly over came a "present" from Jerry,
+scattering our men in all directions and causing a few casualties.
+
+Among the unfortunate ones was a Cockney whose right hand was
+completely blown off.
+
+In a sitting position he calmly turned to the private next to him and
+exclaimed "Blimey, they've blown me blinkin' German band (hand) off.
+Got a bit of stamp edging, mate?"--_T. Evans, 24 Russell Road, Wood End
+Green, Northolt, Greenford._
+
+
+"Oo's 'It--You or Me?"
+
+It was our fifth day in the front line in a sector of the Arras front.
+In the afternoon, after a terrible barrage, Jerry came over the top on
+our left, leaving our immediate front severely alone.
+
+Our platoon Lewis gun was manned at that time by "Cooty," a Cockney, he
+being "Number One" on the gun. We were blazing away at the advancing
+tide when a shell exploded close to the gun.
+
+"Cooty" was seen to go rigid for a moment, and then he quickly rolled
+to one side to make way for "Number Two" to take his place. He took
+"Number Two's" position beside the gun.
+
+The new "Number One" saw that "Cooty" had lost three fingers, and told
+him to retire. "Cooty" would not have that, but calmly began to refill
+an empty magazine. "Number One" again requested him to leave, and a
+sharp tiff occurred between them.
+
+"Cooty" was heard to say, "Look 'ere, oo's _'it_--you or me?" "You
+are," said "Number One."
+
+"Then mind your own blinkin' business," said "Cooty," "and get on with
+shelling these peas."
+
+Poor "Cooty," who had lost his left foot as well, passed out shortly
+after, was a Guardsman at one time.--_D. S. T., Kilburn, N.W._
+
+
+The Stocking Bomb
+
+We were a desert mobile column, half-way across the Sinai Peninsula
+from Kantara to Gaza. Turkish aeroplanes paid us a daily visit and
+pelted us with home-made "stocking-bombs" (old socks filled with nails,
+old iron, and explosives).
+
+On this particular day we were being bombed and a direct hit on one
+gunner's shoulder knocked him to the ground, but failed to explode.
+
+Sitting up in pain he blinked at the stocking-bomb and then at the
+plane and shouted: "Nah chuck us yer blinkin' boots dahn!" He then
+fainted and we helped him, but could not resist a broad smile.--_A.
+Crose, 77 Caistor Park Road, West Ham, E.15._
+
+
+Not an Acrobat
+
+In a communication trench on the Somme, near Guillemont, in August
+1916, we were halted for a "blow" on our way up when Jerry opened with
+shrapnel.
+
+Private Reynolds, from Marylebone, had his right hand cut off at the
+wrist. We bound his arm as best we could, and whilst doing so one man
+said to him, "A sure Blighty one, mate--and don't forget when you get
+home, drop us a line to let's know how you are getting on in hospital."
+
+"Yus! I'll write all right," said Reynolds, and then, suddenly, "'Ere,
+wot d'yer fink I am, a blinkin' acrobat? 'Ow can I write wivout a right
+arm ter write wiv?"--_A. Sharman (late 12th Royal Fusiliers), 177
+Grenville Road, N.W.2._
+
+
+Story Without an Ending
+
+Our gun position lay just behind the Ancre, and Fritz generally strafed
+us for an hour or two each day, starting about the same time. When the
+first shell came over we used to take cover in a disused trench.
+
+One day, when the strafe began, I grabbed two story magazines just
+before we went to the trench, and, arrived there, handed one to my
+Cockney pal.
+
+We had both been reading for some time when a shell burst uncomfortably
+near, and a splinter hit my pal's book and shot it right out of his
+hand. At which he exclaimed: "Fritz, yer blighter, I'll never know nah
+whether he was goin' to marry the girl or cut 'er bloomin' froat."--_G.
+W. Wicheloe (late 138th Heavy Battery, R.G.A.), 162 Stevens Road,
+Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+Cause and Effect
+
+A 5·9 had burst on the parados of our trench, and caused--as 5·9's
+usually did--a bit of a mess.
+
+A brand-new officer came around the trench, saw the damage, and asked:
+"Whatever caused this mess?"
+
+Without the slightest suspicion of a smile a Cockney private answered:
+"An explosive bullet, sir!"--_C. T. Coates, 46 Hillingdon Street,
+London, S.E.17._
+
+[Illustration: "... an explosive bullet, sir!"]
+
+
+The Cockney and the Cop
+
+During the final push near Cambrai Jerry had just been driven from a
+very elaborate observation post--a steel-constructed tower. Of course,
+we soon occupied it to enable us to see Jerry's hasty retreat.
+
+No sooner had we got settled when, crash, Jerry had a battery of
+pipsqueaks trained on us, firing gas shells. A direct hit brought the
+building down.
+
+By the time we had sorted ourselves out our eyes began to grow dim,
+and soon we were temporarily blind. So we took each other's hands, an
+ex-policeman leading.
+
+After a few moments a Cockney friend chimed out, "Say, Cop, do you
+think you can find the lock-up now, or had you better blow your
+whistle?"--_H. Rainford (late R.F.A.), 219 The Grove, Hammersmith,
+W.6._
+
+
+In the Drorin' Room
+
+It was on "W" Beach, Gallipoli, some months after the historic landing.
+It was fairly safe to picnic here, but for the attentions of "Beachy
+Bill," a big Turkish gun. I was with six other R.F.A. details in a
+dug-out which was labelled, or rather libelled, "The Ritz."
+
+"Smiler" Smith gave it that name, and always referred to this verminous
+hovel in terms of respect. Chalked notices such as "Wait for the Lift,"
+"Card Room," "Buffet," were his work.
+
+A dull thud in the distance--the familiar scream--and _plomp_ came one
+from "Bill," a few yards from the Ritz. Only "Smiler" was really hurt.
+He received a piece of shell on his arm. As they carried him away, he
+called faintly for his tobacco tin.
+
+"Where did you leave it, 'Smiler'?"
+
+"In the drorin' room on the grand pianner," said "Smiler"
+faintly.--_Gunner W. (late 29th Division, R.F.A.)._
+
+
+Getting His Goat
+
+Sandy was one of those whom nature seemed to have intended for a girl.
+Sandy by colour, pale and small of features, and without the sparkling
+wit of his Cockney comrades, he was the butt of many a joke.
+
+One dark and dirty night we trailed out of the line at Vermelles and
+were billeted in a barn. The farmhouse still sheltered its owner and
+the remainder of his live-stock, including a goat in a small shed.
+
+"Happy" Day, having discovered the goat, called out, "Hi, Sandy!
+There's some Maconochie rations in that 'ere shed. Fetch 'em in, mate."
+
+Off went Sandy, to return hastily with a face whiter than usual, and
+saying in his high treble: "'Appy, I can't fetch them. There's two
+awful eyes in that shed."
+
+Subsequently Jerry practically obliterated the farm, and when we
+returned to the line "Happy" Day appropriated the goat as a mascot.
+
+We had only been in the line a few hours when we had the worst
+bombardment I remember. Sandy and the goat seemed kindred spirits in
+their misery and terror.
+
+"Happy" had joined the great majority. The goat, having wearied of
+trench life and army service, had gone over the top on his own account.
+The next thing we knew was that Sandy was "over" after him, shells
+dropping around them. Then the goat and "Sandy Greatheart" disappeared
+behind a cloud of black and yellow smoke.--_S. G. Bushell (late Royal
+Berks), 21 Moore Buildings, Gilbert Street, W._
+
+
+Jennie the Flier
+
+It was my job for about two months, somewhere in the summer of 1917, to
+take Jennie the mule up to the trenches twice a day with rations, or
+shells, for the 35th Trench Mortar Battery, to which I was attached. We
+had to cover about 5 kilos. from the Q.M. stores at Rouville, Arras,
+to the line. When Jerry put a few over our way it was a job to get
+Jennie forward.
+
+One night we arrived with a full load, and the officer warned me to get
+unloaded quick as there was to be a big bombardment. No sooner had I
+finished than over came the first shell--and away went Jennie, bowling
+over two or three gunners.
+
+Someone caught her and I mounted for the return journey. Then the
+bombardment began in earnest.
+
+You ought to have seen her go! Talk about a racehorse! I kept saying,
+"Gee up, Jennie, old girl, don't get the wind up, we shall soon get
+back to Rouville!"
+
+I looked round and could see the flashes of the guns. That was the way
+to make Jennie go. She never thought of stopping till we got home.--_W.
+Holmes (9th Essex Regiment), 72 Fleet Road, Hampstead, N.W._
+
+
+A Mission Fulfilled
+
+On August 28, 1916, we were told to take over a series of food dumps
+which had been formed in the front and support lines at Hamel, on the
+Ancre, before a general attack came off.
+
+On the following night Corporal W----, a true and gallant Cockney
+who was in charge of a party going back to fetch rations, came to my
+dug-out to know if there were anything special I wished him to bring.
+
+I asked him to bring me a tin of cigarettes. On the return journey,
+as the party was crossing a road which cut through one of the
+communicating trenches, a shell struck the road, killing two privates
+and fatally wounding Corporal W----.
+
+Without a word the corporal put his hand into his pocket and, producing
+a tin, held it out to an uninjured member of the party.
+
+I got my smokes.--_L. J. Morgan (late Capt., The Royal Sussex
+Regiment), 1 Nevern Square, S.W.5._
+
+
+He Saved the Tea
+
+On the night before our big attack on July 1, 1916, on the Somme, eight
+of us were in a dug-out getting a little rest. Jerry must have found
+some extra shells for he was strafing pretty heavily.
+
+Two Cockney pals from Stratford were busy down on their hands and knees
+with some lighted grease and pieces of dry sandbag, trying to boil a
+mess-tin of water to make some tea.
+
+The water was nearly on the boil when Jerry dropped a "big 'un" right
+into the side of our dug-out.
+
+The smoke and dust had hardly cleared, when one of the Stratfordites
+exclaimed, looking down at the overturned mess-tin, "Blimey, that's
+caused it." Almost immediately his pal (lying on his back, his face
+covered with blood and dirt, and his right hand clasped tightly)
+answered: "'S'all right. I ain't put the tea and sugar in."--_J. Russ
+(Cpl., late 6th Battn. Royal Berkshire Regt.), 309 Ilford Lane, Ilford,
+Essex._
+
+
+Old Dutch Unlucky
+
+After a week in Ypres Salient in February 1915 we were back at a place
+called Vlamertinghe "resting," i.e. providing the usual working parties
+at night. Going out with one of these parties, well loaded with barbed
+wire, poles, etc., our rifles slung on our shoulders, things in general
+were fairly quiet. A stray bullet struck the piling swivel of the rifle
+of "Darkie," the man in front of me. "Missed my head by the skin of its
+teeth," said "Darkie." "Good job the old Dutch wasn't here. She reckons
+she's been unlucky ever since she set eyes on me--and there's another
+pension for life gone beggin'."--_B. Wiseman (late Oxford and Bucks
+L.I.), 12 Ursula Street, Battersea, S.W.11._
+
+
+A Long Streak of Misery
+
+Dusk was falling on the second day of the battle of Loos. I was
+pottering about looking for the other end of our line at the entrance
+to Orchard Street trench. A voice hailed me: "'Ere, mate! Is this the
+way aht?"
+
+It came from a little Cockney, a so-called "walking" wounded case.
+Immediately behind him there hobbled painfully six feet of complete
+abjection.
+
+I gave them directions, and told them that in two or three hundred
+yards they should be out of danger. Then Jerry dropped a "crump." It
+tortured the sorely-tried nerves of the long fellow, and when the
+bricks and dust had settled, he declared, with sudden conviction:
+"We're going to lose this blinkin' war, we are!"
+
+His companion gave him a look of contempt.
+
+"You ain't 'arf a long streak of misery," he said. "If I fort that I'd
+go back nah an' 'ave another shot at 'em--even if you 'ad to carry me
+back."--_"Lines," (33 (S) Bty), 24 Clifton Road, Maida Vale, W.9._
+
+
+"Smudger's" Tattoo
+
+"Smudger" Smith, from Hoxton, had just returned off leave, and joined
+us at Frankton Camp, near Ypres. Not long after his arrival "Jerry"
+started strafing us with his long-range guns, but "Smudger" was more
+concerned with the tattooing which he had had done on his arms on leave.
+
+I said they were very disfiguring, and advised him to have them
+removed, giving him an address to go to when he was again in London,
+and telling him the probable price.
+
+Not very long after our conversation "Jerry" landed a shell about forty
+yards away from us and made us part company for a while. When I pulled
+myself together and looked for "Smudger" he was half-buried with earth
+and looked in much pain.
+
+I went over to him and began to dig him out. Whilst I was thus engaged
+he said to me in a weak voice, but with a smile on his face:
+
+"How much did yer say it would corst to take them tattoos orf?" And
+when I told him he replied: "I fink I can get 'em done at harf-price
+nah."
+
+When I dug him out I found he had lost one arm.--_E. R. Wilson (late
+East Lancs Regt.), 22 Brindley Street, Shardeloes Road, New Cross,
+S.E.14._
+
+
+Importance of a "Miss"
+
+Soon after the capture of Hill 70 an artillery observation post was
+established near the new front line. A telephone line was laid to it,
+but owing to persistent shelling the wire soon became a mere succession
+of knots and joints. Communication was established at rare intervals,
+and repairing the line was a full-time job. A Cockney signaller and I
+went out at daybreak one morning to add more joints to the collection,
+and after using every scrap of spare wire available made another
+temporary job of it.
+
+Returning, however, we found at a cross-over that the wire had fallen
+from a short piece of board that had been stuck in the parapet to keep
+it clear of the trench. As my pal reached up to replace it his head
+caught the eye of a sniper, whose bullet, missing by a fraction, struck
+and knocked down the piece of wood.
+
+The signaller's exclamation was: "Blimey, mate, it's lucky he ain't
+broke the blinkin' line again!"--_J. Hudson (late R.G.A.), 6 Ventnor
+Road, New Cross, S.E.14._
+
+
+"In the Midst of War----"
+
+A battalion of a London regiment was in reserve in Rivière-Grosville, a
+small village just behind the line, in March 1917. Towards midnight we
+were ordered to fall in in fighting order as it was believed that the
+Germans had retired.
+
+Our mission was to reconnoitre the German position, and we were
+cautioned that absolute silence must be preserved.
+
+All went well until we reached the German barbed wire entanglements,
+that had to be negotiated by narrow paths, through which we proceeded
+softly and slowly, and with the wind "well up."
+
+Suddenly the air was rent by a stream of blistering invective, and a
+Cockney Tommy turned round on his pal, who had tripped and accidentally
+prodded him with the point of his bayonet, and at the top of his voice
+said:
+
+"Hi, wot's the blinkin' gime, Charlie? Do that again and I'll knock yer
+ruddy 'ead off."
+
+Charlie raised his voice to the level of the other's and said he'd
+like to see him do it, and while we flattened ourselves on the ground
+expecting a storm of bullets and bombs at any moment, the two pals
+dropped their rifles and had it out with their fists.
+
+Fortunately, rumour was correct, the Germans had retired.--_H. T.
+Scillitoe, 77 Stanmore Road, Stevenage, Herts._
+
+
+A Case for the Ordnance
+
+A pitch dark night on the Salonika front in 1917. I was in charge of an
+advanced detachment near a railhead.
+
+A general and a staff officer were travelling by rail-motor towards
+the front line when in the darkness the rail-motor crashed into
+some stationary freight trucks, completely wrecking the vehicle and
+instantly killing the driver.
+
+I rushed with a stretcher party to render help. The general and his
+staff officer were unconscious amid the wreckage.
+
+Feverishly we worked to remove the debris which pinned them down. Two
+of us caught the general beneath the shoulders, and one was raising his
+legs when to his horror one leg came away in his hand.
+
+When the general regained his senses, seeing our concern, he quickly
+reassured us. The leg turned out to be a wooden one! He had lost the
+original at Hill 60.
+
+The tension over, one of the stretcher-bearers, a Cockney from Mile
+End, whispered into my ear, "We can't take 'im to the 'orspital, sarge,
+he wants to go dahn to the Ordnance!"--_Sgt. T. C. Jones, M.S.M., 15
+Bushey Mill Lane, Watford._
+
+
+Dismal Jimmy's Prisoner
+
+Out of the ebb and flow, the mud and blood, the din and confusion
+of a two days' strafe on the Somme in September 1917 my particular
+chum, Private James X., otherwise known as "Dismal Jimmy," emerged
+with a German prisoner who was somewhat below the usual stature and
+considerably the worse for the wear and tear of his encounter with the
+Cockney soldier.
+
+"Jimmy," although obviously proud of his captive, was, as usual, "fed
+up" with the war, the strafe, and everything else. To make matters
+worse, on his way to the support trenches he was caught in the head by
+a sniper's bullet.
+
+His pet grievance, however, did not come from this particular
+misfortune, but from the fact that the prisoner had not taken advantage
+of the opportunity to "'Op it!" when the incident occurred. "Wot yer
+fink ov 'im, mate?" he queried. "Followed me all rahnd the blinkin'
+trenches, 'e did! Thinks I got a bit o' tripe on a skewer, maybe, th'
+dirty dog!" "Jimmy" muttered. Then he came under the orders of a Higher
+Command.--_H. J. R., 1 Central Buildings, Westminster, S.W.1._
+
+
+That Creepy Feeling
+
+In the brick-fields at La Bassée, 1915, there was a pump about five
+yards from our front line which we dare not approach in daylight. At
+night it was equally dangerous as it squeaked and so drew the sniper's
+fire.
+
+We gave up trying to use it after a few of our fellows had been sniped
+in their attempts, until Nobby Clarke said _he_ would get the water,
+adding: "That blinkin' sniper hasn't my name on any of his ruddy
+bullets."
+
+After he had gone we heard the usual squeak of the pump, followed by
+the inevitable _ping!_ ... _ping!_ We waited. No Nobby returned.
+
+Two of us crawled out to where he lay to bring him in. "Strewth, Bill,"
+he cried when my mate touched him, "you didn't 'arf put the blinkin'
+wind up me, _creepin' aht like that_!"
+
+There he lay, on his back, with a piece of rope tied to the handle of
+the pump. We always got our water after that.--_F. J. Pike (late 2nd
+Grenadier Guards), 4 Hilldrop Road, Bromley, Kent._
+
+
+"Toot-Sweet," the Runner
+
+Scene: Before Combles in the front line.
+
+Position: Acute.
+
+Several runners had been despatched from the forward position with
+urgent messages for Headquarters, and all had suffered the common
+fate of these intrepid fellows. One Cockney named Sweet, and known
+as "Toot-Sweet" for obvious reasons, had distinguished himself upon
+various occasions in acting as a runner.
+
+A volunteer runner was called for to cover a particularly dangerous
+piece of ground, and our old friend was to the fore as usual. "But,"
+said the company officer, "I can't send you again--someone else must
+go."
+
+Imagine his astonishment when "Toot-Sweet" said, "Giv' us this charnce,
+sir. I've got two mentions in dispatches now, an' I only want annuvver
+to git a medal."
+
+He went, but he did not get a medal.--_E. V. S. (late Middlesex Regt.),
+London, N.W.2._
+
+
+Applying the Moral
+
+Before we made an attack on "The Mound of Death," St. Eloi, in the
+early part of 1916, our Brigadier-General addressed the battalion and
+impressed upon us the importance of taking our objective.
+
+He told us the tale of two mice which fell into a basin of milk. The
+faint-hearted one gave up and was drowned. The other churned away with
+his legs until the milk turned into butter and he could walk away! He
+hoped that we would show the same determination in our attack.
+
+We blew up part of the German front line, which had been mined, and
+attacked each side of the crater, and took the position, though with
+heavy losses.
+
+On the following day one of my platoon fell into the crater, which, of
+course, was very muddy. As he plunged about in it he shouted "When I've
+churned this ruddy mud into concrete I'm 'opping aht of it."
+
+This was the action in which our gallant chaplain, Captain the Rev.
+Noel Mellish, won the V.C.--_"Reg. Bomber," 4th Royal Fusiliers, 3rd
+Division._
+
+
+Spelling v. Shelling
+
+An attack was to be made by our battalion at Givenchy in 1915. The
+Germans must have learned of the intention, for two hours before it was
+due to begin they sent up a strong barrage, causing many casualties.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"]
+
+Letters and cards, which might be their last, were being sent home by
+our men, and a Cockney at the other end of our dug-out shouted to his
+mate, "'Arry, 'ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"--_H. W. Mason (late 23rd
+London Regt.), 26 Prairie Street, Battersea, S.W._
+
+
+Too Much Hot Water
+
+We were taking a much-needed bath and change in the Brewery vats at
+Poperinghe, when Jerry started a mad five minutes' "strafe" with, as it
+seemed, the old Brewery as a target.
+
+Above the din of explosions, falling bricks, and general "wind-up" the
+aggrieved voice of Sammy Wilkes from Poplar, who was still in the vat,
+was heard:
+
+"Lumme, and I only asked for a little drop more 'ot water."--_Albert
+Girardot (late K.R.R.), 250 Cornwall Road, Ladbroke Grove, W.11._
+
+
+"Ducks and Drakes! Ducks and Drakes!"
+
+After the evacuation of the Dardanelles the "Drakes" of the Royal Naval
+Division were ordered to France. Amongst them was Jack (his real name
+was John). A young Soccer player, swift of foot, he was chosen as a
+"runner."
+
+One day he tumbled into a shell hole. And just as he had recovered his
+wits in came Colonel Freyberg, V.C., somewhat wounded. Seeing Jack, he
+told him he was just the boy he wanted--the lad had run away from home
+to join up before he was seventeen--and scribbling a note the colonel
+handed it to him.
+
+The boy was told if he delivered it safely he could help the colonel to
+take Beaucourt. Jack began to scramble out. It was none too inviting,
+for shells were bursting in all directions, and it was much more
+comfortable inside. With a wide vocabulary from the Old Kent Road, he
+timely remembered that his father was a clergyman, and muttering to
+himself, "Ducks and drakes, ducks and drakes," he reached the top and
+went on his way.
+
+The sequel was that the message was delivered, reinforcements came
+up, led by the boy to the colonel, and Beaucourt was taken.--_Father
+Hughes, 60 Hainault Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea._
+
+
+You Must have Discipline
+
+On September 14, 1916, at Angle Wood on the Somme, the 168th (London)
+Brigade Signals were unloading a limber on a slope, on top of which was
+a battery which Jerry was trying to find. One of his shells found us,
+knocking all of us over and wounding nine or ten of us (one fatally).
+
+As the smoke and dust cleared, our Cockney sergeant (an old soldier
+whose slogan was "You must have dis_cip_line") gradually rose to
+a sitting position, and, whipping out his notebook and pencil,
+called "Nah, then, oo's wounded?" and calmly proceeded to write down
+names.--_Wm. R. Smith (late R.E. Signals), 231 Halley Road, Manor Park,
+E.12._
+
+
+L.B.W. in Mespot
+
+At a certain period during the operations in Mesopotamia so dependent
+were both the British and the Turks on the supply of water from the
+Tigris that it became an unwritten law that water-carriers from both
+sides were not to be sniped at.
+
+This went on until a fresh British regiment, not having had the
+position explained, fired on a party of Turks as they were returning
+from the river. The next time we went down to get water the Turks,
+of course, returned the compliment; so from then onwards all water
+carrying had to be done under cover of darkness.
+
+On one of these occasions a Turkish sniper peppered our water party
+as they were returning to our lines. They all got back, however; but
+one, a man from Limehouse, was seen to be struggling with his water
+container only half full, and at the same time it was noticed that his
+trousers and boots were saturated.
+
+"Hi!" shouted the sergeant, "you've lost half the water. Did that
+sniper get your bucket?"
+
+"Not 'im," replied the Cockney, "I saw to that. 'E only got me leg."
+
+What, in the darkness, appeared to be water spilt from the bucket was
+really the result of a nasty flesh wound.--_J. M. Rendle (Lieut.,
+I.A.R.O.), White Cottage, St. Leonard's Gardens, Hove, Sussex._
+
+
+Trench-er Work
+
+We were attacking Messines Ridge. The ground was a mass of flooded
+shell-holes. Hearing a splash and some cursing in a familiar voice, I
+called out, "Are you all right, Tubby?"
+
+The reply came, as he crawled out of a miniature mine crater, "Yus, but
+I've lorst me 'ipe (rifle)."
+
+I asked what he was going to do, and he replied, "You dig them German
+sausages out with yer baynit and I'll eat 'em."
+
+So saying, he pulled out his knife and fork and proceeded towards the
+enemy trenches.--_"Pip Don" (London Regt.), 22 Ingram Road, Thornton
+Heath._
+
+
+"The Best Man--Goes Fust"
+
+In the second battle of Arras, 1917, our regiment was held up near
+Gavrelle and was occupying a line of shell-holes. The earth was heaving
+all around us with the heavy barrage. Peeping over the top of my
+shell-hole I found my neighbours, "Shorty" (of Barnes) and "Tiny" (of
+Kent) arguing about who was the best man.
+
+All of a sudden over came one of Jerry's five-nines. It burst too close
+to "Shorty," who got the worst of it, and was nearly done for. But he
+finished his argument, for he said to "Tiny" in a weak voice, "That
+shows you who's the best man. My ole muvver always says as the best
+goes fust."--_J. Saxby, Paddington, W.2._
+
+
+When Clemenceau Kissed the Sergeant
+
+About Christmas of 1917 I was on the Somme with one of the most
+Cockney of the many battalions of the Royal Fusiliers. As we sheltered
+in dug-outs from the "gale" Fritz was putting over, to our surprise
+we heard a voice greet us in French, "_Allons, mes enfants_: _Ça va
+toujours_."
+
+Looking up we beheld an old man in shabby suit and battered hat who
+seemed the typical French peasant. "Well, of all the old idiots,"
+called out the sergeant. "Shut yer face an' 'ook it, ye blamed old
+fool." For answer the old man gave the sergeant the surprise of his
+life by seizing him in a grip of iron and planting a resounding kiss on
+each cheek, French fashion.
+
+Just at that moment some brass hats came along and the mystery was
+explained. The "old fool" was the late Georges Clemenceau, then French
+War Minister, who had come to see for himself what it was like in our
+sector and had lost his guides.
+
+"An' to think that 'e kissed me just like I was a kid, after I'd told
+'im to 'ook it," commented the sergeant afterwards. "Wonder wot 'e'd 'a
+done 'ad I told 'im to go to 'ell, as I'd 'alf a mind to."
+
+Years later I was one of a party of the British Legion received in
+Paris by "The Tiger," and I recalled the incident. "Père La Victoire"
+laughed heartily. "That Cockney sergeant was right," he said, "I was an
+old fool to go about like that in the line, but then somebody has got
+to play the fool in war-time, so that there may be no follies left for
+the wise heads to indulge in."--_H. Stockman, Hôtel Terminus, Rue St.
+Lazare, Paris, VIIIème, France._
+
+
+Poet and--Prophet
+
+I was sitting with my pal in the trenches of the front line waiting
+for the next move when I heard our Cockney break into the chorus of a
+home-made song:
+
+    "'Twas moonlight in the trenches,
+      The sky was royal blue,
+    When Jerry let his popgun go,
+      And up the 'ole 'ouse flew."
+
+The last words were drowned in a terrific crash. There was sudden
+quiet afterwards, and then a voice said, "There y'are, wot did I tell
+yer?"--_T. E. Crouch, 28 Eleanor Road, Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Pub that Opened Punctually
+
+It was at the village of Zudkerque, where Fritz had bombed and blown up
+a dump in 1916. My pal and I were standing outside a cafe, the windows
+of which were shuttered, when the blast of a terrific explosion blew
+out the shutters. They hit my pal and me on the head and knocked us
+into the roadway.
+
+My pal picked himself up, and, shaking bits of broken glass off him and
+holding a badly gashed head, said: "Lumme, Ginger, they don't 'arf open
+up quick 'ere. Let's go an 'ave one."--_J. March (late R.E.), London,
+S.E._
+
+
+That Precious Tiny Tot
+
+We had paraded for the rum issue at Frankton Camp, near Ypres, when the
+enemy opened fire with long-range guns. A Cockney came forward with
+his mug, drew his issue, and moved off to drink it under cover and at
+leisure. Suddenly a large shell whooped over and burst about 40 yards
+away. With a casual glance at the fountain of earth which soared up,
+the man calmly removed his shrapnel helmet and held it over his mug
+until the rain of earth and stones ceased.--_"Skipper," D.L.I., London,
+W.2._
+
+
+Cigs and Cough Drops
+
+Cigarettes we knew not; food was scarce, so was ammunition.
+Consequently I was detailed on the eve of the retreat from Serbia to
+collect boxes of S.A.A. lying near the front line.
+
+On the way to report my arrival to the infantry officer I found a
+Cockney Tommy badly wounded in the chest. "It's me chest, ain't it,
+mate?" he asked. I nodded in reply. "Then I'll want corf drops, not
+them," and with that he handed me a packet of cigarettes. How he got
+them and secretly saved them up so long is a mystery.
+
+I believe he knew that he would not require either cough drops or
+cigarettes, and I took a vow to keep the empty packet to remind me of
+the gallant fellow.--_H. R. (late R.F.A.), 10th Division, London, N.3._
+
+
+"Smiler" to the End
+
+When Passchendaele started on July 31, 1917, we who were holding ground
+captured in the Messines stunt of June 7 carried out a "dummy" attack.
+
+One of the walking wounded coming back from this affair of bluff,
+I struck a hot passage, for Jerry was shelling the back areas with
+terrific pertinacity. Making my way to the corduroy road by Mount
+Kemmel, I struck a stretcher party. Their burden was a rifleman of
+the R.B.'s, whose body was a mass of bandages. Seeing me ducking and
+dodging every time a salvo burst near he called out:
+
+"Keep wiv me, mate, 'cos two shells never busts in the same 'ole--and
+if I ain't a shell 'ole 'oo is?"
+
+Sheer grit kept him alive until after we reached Lord Derby's War
+Hospital outside Warrington, and the nickname of "Smiler" fitted him to
+the last.--_W. G. C., 2 Avonly Road, S.E.14._
+
+
+"The Bishop" and the Bright Side
+
+A fully-qualified chartered accountant in the City, my pal, "The
+Bishop"--so called because of his dignified manner--was promoted
+company-clerk in the Irish Rifles at Messines in 1917.
+
+Company headquarters were in a dark and dismal barn where the Company
+Commander and "The Bishop" were writing under difficulties one
+fine morning--listening acutely to the shriek and crash of Jerry's
+whizz-bangs just outside the ramshackle door.
+
+The betting was about fifty to one on a direct hit at any moment. The
+skipper had a wary eye on "The Bishop"--oldish, shortish, stoutish,
+rather comical card in his Tommy's kit. Both were studiously preserving
+an air of outward calm.
+
+Then the direct hit came--high up, bang through the rafters, and blew
+off the roof. "The Bishop" looked up at the sky, still clutching his
+fountain-pen.
+
+"Ah, that's better, sir," he said. "Now we can see what we are
+doing."--_P. J. K., Westbourne Grove, W.2._
+
+
+"Chuck yer Blinkin' 'Aggis at 'im!"
+
+The Cockney inhabitants of "Brick Alley," at Carnoy, on the Somme in
+1916, had endured considerable attention from a German whizz-bang
+battery situated a mile or so away behind Trones Wood.
+
+During a lull in the proceedings a fatigue party of "Jocks," each
+carrying a 40-lb. sphere, the business end of a "toffee-apple" (trench
+mortar bomb), made their appearance, and were nicely strung out in the
+trench when Jerry opened out again.
+
+The chances of a direct hit made matters doubly unpleasant.
+
+The tension became a little too much for one of the regular billetees,
+and from a funk-hole in the side of the trench a reproachful voice
+addressed the nearest Highlander: "For the luv o' Mike, Jock, get up
+and chuck yer blinkin' 'aggis at 'em."--_J. C. Whiting (late 8th Royal
+Sussex Pioneers), 36 Hamlet Gardens, W.6._
+
+
+Back to Childhood
+
+I had been given a lift in an A.S.C. lorry going to Jonchery on May
+27, 1918, when it was suddenly attacked by a German plane. On getting
+a burst of machine-gun bullets through the wind-screen the driver, a
+stout man of about forty, pulled up, and we both clambered down.
+
+The plane came lower and re-opened fire, and as there was no other
+shelter we were obliged to crawl underneath the lorry and dodge from
+one side to the other in order to avoid the bullets.
+
+[Illustration: "Fancy a bloke my age playin' 'ide an' seek"]
+
+After one hurried "pot" at the plane, and as we dived for the other
+side, my companion gasped: "Lumme! Fancy a bloke my age a-playin' 'ide
+an' seek!"--_H. G. E. Woods, "The Willows," Bridge Street, Maidenhead._
+
+
+The Altruist
+
+One afternoon in July 1917 our battalion was lying by a roadside on the
+Ypres front waiting for night to fall so that we could proceed to the
+front line trenches.
+
+"Smiffy" was in the bombing section of his platoon and had a bag of
+Mills grenades to carry.
+
+Fritz began to get busy, and soon we had shrapnel bursting overhead.
+"Smiffy" immediately spread his body over his bag of bombs like a hen
+over a clutch of eggs.
+
+"What the 'ell are you sprawling over them bombs for?" asked the
+sergeant.
+
+"Well," replied Smiffy, "it's like this 'ere, sergeant. I wouldn't mind
+a little Blighty one meself, but I'd jest 'ate for any of these bombs
+ter get wounded while I'm wiv 'em."--_T. E. M. (late London Regt.),
+Colliers Wood, S.W.19._
+
+
+"Minnie's Stepped on my Toe!"
+
+We were lying in front of Bapaume in August 1918 awaiting
+reinforcements. They came from Doullens, and among them was a Cockney
+straight from England. He greeted our sergeant with the words, "Wot
+time does the dance start?" The sergeant, an old-timer, replied, "The
+dance starts right now."
+
+So over the top we went, but had not gone far when the Cockney was
+bowled over by a piece from a minnenwerfer, which took half of one foot
+away.
+
+I was rendering first aid when the sergeant came along. He looked down
+and said, "Hello, my lad, soon got tired of the dance, eh?"
+
+The little Cockney looked up and despite his pain he smiled and said,
+"On wiv the dance, sergeant! I'm sitting this one aht, fer Minnie has
+stepped on my toe."--_E. C. Hobbs (late 1st Royal Marine Battn.), 103
+Moore Park Road, Fulham, S.W._
+
+
+In the Dim Dawn
+
+Jerry had made a surprise raid on our trenches one morning just as
+it was getting light. He got very much the worst of it, but when
+everything was over Cockney Simmonds was missing.
+
+We hunted everywhere, but couldn't find him. Suddenly we saw him
+approaching with a hefty looking German whom he had evidently taken
+prisoner.
+
+"Where did you get him from, Simmonds?" we asked.
+
+"Well, d'yer see that shell-'ole over there 'alf full o' water?"
+
+"Yes," we said, all craning our necks to look.
+
+"Well, this 'ere Fritz didn't."--_L. Digby (12th East Surreys), 10
+Windsor Road, Holloway, N.7._
+
+
+Beau Brummell's Puttees
+
+March 1918. Just before the big German offensive. One night I was out
+with a reconnoitring patrol in "No Man's Land." We had good reason to
+believe that Jerry also had a patrol in the near vicinity.
+
+Suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire in our direction seemed to
+indicate that we had been spotted. We dived for shell-holes and any
+available cover, breathlessly watching the bullets knock sparks off
+the barbed wire. When the firing ceased and we attempted to re-form
+our little party, a Cockney known as "Posh" Wilks was missing.
+
+Fearing the worst, we peered into the darkness. Just then a Verey
+light illuminated the scene, and we saw the form of "Posh" Wilks
+some little distance away. I went over to see what was wrong, and
+to my astonishment he was kneeling down carefully rewinding one of
+his puttees. "Can't get these ruddy things right anyhow to-day," he
+said.--_H. W. White (late Royal Sussex Regt.), 18 Airthrie Road,
+Goodmayes, Essex._
+
+
+Plenty of Room on Top
+
+On December 4, 1917, we made a surprise attack on the enemy in the
+Jabal Hamrin range in Northern Mesopotamia.
+
+We wore our winter clothing (the same as in Europe), with tin hats
+complete. After stumbling over the rocks in extended order for some
+time, the platoon on my left, who were on higher ground, sighted a
+Turkish camp fire on the right.
+
+We swung round in that direction, to find ourselves up against an
+almost blank wall of rock, about 20 ft. high, the enemy being somewhere
+on top.
+
+At last we found a place at which to scale it, one at a time. We began
+to mount, in breathless silence, expecting the first man to come
+tumbling down on top of all the rest.
+
+I was the second, and just as I started to climb I felt two sharp tugs
+at my entrenching tool and a hoarse Cockney voice whispered, "Full up
+inside; plenty o' room on top." I was annoyed at the time, but I have
+often laughed over it since.--_P. V. Harris, 89 Sherwood Park Road,
+S.W.16._
+
+
+Nearly Lost His Washing-Bowl
+
+In March 1917 we held the front line trenches opposite a sugar refinery
+held by the Germans. We got the order to stand to as our engineers were
+going to blow up a mine on the German position.
+
+Up went the mine. Then Fritz started shelling us. Shells were bursting
+above and around us. A piece of shrapnel hit a Cockney, a lad from
+Paddington, on his tin hat.
+
+When things calmed down another Cockney bawled out, "Lumme, that was a
+near one, Bill." "Blimey, not 'arf," was the reply. "If I 'adn't got my
+chin-strap dahn I'd 'ave lost my blooming washing-bowl."--_E. Rickard
+(late Middlesex Regt.), 65 Apsley End, Hemel Hempstead, Herts._
+
+
+Bath Night
+
+The trenches on the Somme were very deep and up to our knees in mud,
+and we were a pretty fine sight after being in the front line several
+days over our time.
+
+I shall never forget the night we passed out of the trenches--like a
+lot of mud-larks. The O.C., seeing the state we were in, ordered us to
+have a bath. We stopped at an old barn, where the R.E.'s had our water
+ready in wooden tubs. Imagine the state of the water when, six to a
+tub, we had to skim the mud off after one another!
+
+Just as we were enjoying the treat, Jerry started sending over some of
+his big stuff, and one shell took the back part of the barn off.
+
+Everybody began getting out of the tubs, except a Cockney, who sat up
+in his tub and shouted out, "Blimey, Jerry, play the blinkin' game.
+Wait till I've washed me back. I've lorst me soap."--_C. Ralph (late
+Royal Welch Fusiliers), 153d Guinness Buildings, Hammersmith, W.6._
+
+
+Back to the Shack
+
+Whilst on the Somme in October 1916 my pal Mac (from Notting Hill)
+and myself were sent forward to a sunken road just behind Les Boeufs
+to assist at a forward telephone post which was in communication with
+battalion H.Q. by wire and with the companies in the trenches by runner.
+
+During the night a false "S O S" was sent up, and our guns opened
+out--and, of course, so did the German guns--and smashed our telephone
+wire.
+
+It being "Mac's" turn out, he picked up his 'phone and went up the
+dug-out steps. When he had almost reached the top a big shell burst
+right in the dug-out entrance and blew "Mac" back down the stairs to
+the bottom, bruised, but otherwise unhurt.
+
+Picking himself up slowly he removed his hat, placed his hand over his
+heart, and said, gazing round, "Back to the old 'ome agin--and it ain't
+changed a bit."--_A. J. West (late Corpl., Signals), 1/13th London
+Regt., 212 Third Avenue, Paddington, W.10._
+
+
+His Last Gamble
+
+One night in July 1917, as darkness came along, my battalion moved up
+and relieved a battalion in the front line.
+
+Next morning as dawn was breaking Jerry started a violent strafe. My
+platoon occupied three fire-bays, and we in the centre one could shout
+to those in the bays on either side, although we could not see them.
+
+In one of the end bays was "Monte Carlo" Teddy, a true lad from London,
+a "bookie's tick-tack" before the war. He was called "Monte Carlo"
+because he would gamble on anything. As a shell exploded anywhere near
+us Teddy would shout, "Are you all right, sarge?" until this kind of
+got on my nerves, so I crawled into his bay to inquire why he had
+suddenly taken such an interest in my welfare. He explained, "I gets up
+a draw larst night, sarge, a franc a time, as to which of us in this
+lot stopped a packet first, and you're my gee-gee."
+
+I had hardly left them when a shell exploded in their bay. The only
+one to stop a packet was Teddy, and we carried him into the next bay
+to await the stretcher-bearers. I could see he would never reach the
+dressing station.
+
+Within five minutes I had stopped a lovely Blighty, and they put me
+alongside Teddy. When he noticed who it was he said, "Well I'm blowed,
+just my blinkin' luck; licked a short head and I shan't last long
+enough to see if there's a' objection."
+
+Thus he died, as he always said he would, with his boots on, and my
+company could never replace him. Wherever two men of my old mob meet
+you can bet your boots that one or the other is sure to say, "Remember
+'Monte Carlo' Ted?"--_E. J. Clark (late Sergeant, Lincoln Regt.), c/o
+Sir Thomas Lipton, Bart., K.C.V.O., Osidge, Southgate, N.14._
+
+
+That Infernal Drip-Drip-Drip!
+
+We were trying to sleep in half a dug-out that was roofed with a
+waterproof sheet--Whale and I. It was a dark, wet night. I had hung a
+mess tin on a nail to catch the water that dripped through, partly to
+keep it off my head, also to provide water for an easy shave in the
+morning.
+
+A strafe began. The night was illuminated by hundreds of vivid flashes,
+and shells of all kinds burst about us. The dug-out shook with the
+concussions. Trench mortars, rifle grenades, and machine-gun fire
+contributed to the din.
+
+Whale, who never had the wind up, was shifting his position and turning
+from one side to the other.
+
+"What's the matter?" I asked my chum. "Can't you sleep?"
+
+"Sleep! 'Ow the 'ell can a bloke sleep with that infernal
+_drip-drip-drip_ goin' on?"--_P. T. Hughes (late 21st London Regiment,
+47th Division), 12 Shalimar Gardens, Acton, W._
+
+
+"A Blinkin' Vanity Box"
+
+After the terrific upheaval of June 7, 1917, my brigade (the 111th)
+held the line beyond Wytschaete Ridge for some weeks. While my company
+was in support one day my corporal and I managed to scrounge into a
+pill-box away from the awful mud. We could not escape the water because
+the explosion of the mines on June 7 had cracked the foundation of our
+retreat and water was nearly two feet deep on the floor.
+
+Just before dusk on this rainy July evening I was shaving before a
+metal mirror in the top bunk in the pill-box, while the corporal washed
+in a mess-tin in the bunk below. Just then Jerry started a severe
+strafe and a much-muddied runner of the 13th Royal Fusiliers appeared
+in the unscreened doorway.
+
+"Come in and shelter, old man," I said. So he stepped on to an
+ammunition box that just failed to keep his feet clear of the water.
+
+He had watched our ablutions in silence for a minute or so, when a
+shell burst almost in the doorway and flung him into the water below
+our bunks, where he sat with his right arm red and rent, sagging at his
+side.
+
+"Call this a shelter?" he said. "Blimey, it's a blinkin' vanity
+box!"--_Sgt., 10th R.F., East Sheen, S.W.14._
+
+
+Playing at Statues
+
+We were making our way to a detached post just on the left of Vimy, and
+Jerry was sending up Verey lights as we were going along. Every time
+one went up we halted, and kept quite still in case we should be seen.
+
+It was funny indeed to see how some of the men halted when a light
+went up. Some had one foot down and one raised, and others were in a
+crouching position. "My missus orta see me nah playing at blinkin'
+statchoos," said one old Cockney.--_T. Kelly (late 17th London Regt.),
+43 Ocean Street, Stepney, E.1._
+
+[Illustration: "Playin' at statchoos."]
+
+
+Bo Peep--1915 Version
+
+In 1915 at Fricourt "Copper" Kingsland of our regiment, the 7th Royal
+West Surreys, was on sentry on the fire-step in the front line. At this
+period of the war steel helmets were not in use. Our cap badge was in
+the form of a lamb.
+
+A Fritz sniper registered a hit through Kingsland's hat, cutting the
+tail portion of the lamb away. After he had pulled himself together
+"Copper" surveyed his cap badge and remarked: "On the larst kit
+inspection I reported to the sargint that yer was lorst, and nah I
+shall 'ave ter tell 'im that when Bo Peep fahnd yer, yer wagged yer
+bloomin' tail off in gratitood."--_"Spot," Haifu, Farley Road, Selsdon,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry's Dip in the Fat
+
+We were out at rest in an open field on the Somme front when one
+morning, about 5 a.m., our cook, Alf, of Battersea, was preparing the
+company's breakfast. There was bacon, but no bread. I was standing
+beside the cooker soaking one of my biscuits in the fat.
+
+Suddenly a Jerry airman dived down towards the cooker, firing his
+machine gun. I got under the cooker, Alf fell over the side of it,
+striking his head on the ground. I thought he was hit. But he sat up,
+rubbing his head and looking up at Jerry, who was then flying away.
+
+"'Ere!" he shouted, "next time yer wants a dip in the fat, don't be
+so rough."--_H. A. Redford (late 24th London Regt.), 31 Charrington
+Street, N.W.1._
+
+
+Carried Unanimously
+
+Some recently captured trenches had to be cleared of the enemy, and in
+the company told off for the job was a Cockney youth. Proceeding along
+the trench with a Mills bomb in his hand, he came upon a number of the
+enemy hiding in a dug-out.
+
+"Nah then," he shouted, holding up the bomb in readiness to throw it
+if necessary, "all them as votes for coming along wiv me 'old up your
+'ands."
+
+All hands were held up, with the cry "Kamerad! Kamerad!" Upon which the
+Cockney shouted, "Look, mates, it's carried unanermously."--_H. Morgan
+(late 4th Telegraph Construction Co., R.E. Signals), 26 Ranelagh Road,
+Wembley._
+
+
+A Very Hot Bath
+
+During the retreat of the remnants of the Fifth Army in March 1918 two
+of the six-inch howitzers of the Honourable Artillery Company were in
+action in some deserted horse-lines outside Péronne.
+
+During a lull Gunner A----, a Londoner, like the rest of us, went
+"scrounging" in some nearby cottages recently abandoned by their
+inhabitants. He reappeared carrying a large zinc bath, and after
+filling it with water from the horse pond he made a huge bonfire with
+broken tables and other furniture, and set the bath on the fire.
+
+Just when the water had been heated Fritz opened out with 5·9's. As
+we were not firing just then we all took cover, with the exception of
+Gunner A----, who calmly set his bath of hot water down by one of the
+guns, undressed, and got into the bath. A minute later a large piece of
+shell also entered the bath, passed through the bottom of it and into
+the ground.
+
+The gunner watched the precious water running out, then he slowly rose
+and, beginning to dress, remarked, "Very well, Fritz, have it your way.
+I may not be godly, but I _did_ want to be clean."--_Edward Boaden
+(late H.A.C., 309 Siege Battery), 17 Connaught Gardens, Muswell Hill,
+N.10._
+
+
+In Lieu of ----
+
+During a winter's night on the Somme a party of us were drawing rations
+just behind the front line trenches. A Cockney chum of mine was
+disgusted to hear the Q.M. say he was issuing hot soup in lieu of rum.
+
+"Coo! What next?" he grumbled. "Soup in lieu of rum, biscuits in
+lieu of bread, jam in lieu----" While he spoke Jerry sent over two
+whizz-bangs which scattered us and the rations and inflicted several
+casualties.
+
+My chum was hit badly. As he was being carried past the Q.M. he smiled
+and said, "Someone will have to be in lieu of me now, Quarter!"--_T.
+Allen (late Plymouth Battn., R.N.D.), 21 Sydney Street, S.W._
+
+
+Putting the Hatt on It
+
+Two brothers named Hatt were serving together in France. The elder was
+always saying that he would never be hit, as the Germans, not being
+able to spell his name correctly, could not put it on any of their
+shells or bullets. (It was a common saying among the soldiers, of
+course, that a shell or bullet which hit a man had the victim's name on
+it.)
+
+The younger brother was taken prisoner, and two days later the elder
+brother was shot through the finger. Turning to his mates he exclaimed,
+"Blimey, me brother's been an' split on me."--_W. J. Bowes, 224 Devon's
+Road, Bow, E.3._
+
+
+Tangible Evidence
+
+We were at Levantie in 1915, just before the Battle of Loos, and the
+rumour was about that the Germans were running short of ammunition. It
+was very quiet in our sector, as we were opposite the Saxons, and we
+strolled about at ease.
+
+A party of us was told off to get water just behind the trenches in
+an old farmhouse which had a pump. We filled all the water bottles
+and rum jars and then had a look round the ruins to see what we could
+scrounge, when suddenly Fritz sent a shell over. It hit the wall and
+sent bricks flying all over the place. One of the bricks hit my mate on
+the head and knocked him out. When we had revived him he looked up and
+said, "Strewth, it's right they ain't got no 'ammo.'; they're slinging
+bricks. It shows yer we've got 'em all beat to a frazzle, don't
+it?"--_J. Delderfield, 54 Hampden Street, Paddington._
+
+
+What the Cornwalls' Motto Meant
+
+A platoon of my regiment, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, was
+engaged in carrying screens to a point about 200 yards behind the
+front line. The screens were to be set up to shield a road from German
+observation balloons, and they were made of brushwood bound together
+with wire. They were rolled up for convenience of transport, and when
+rolled they looked like big bundles of pea-sticks about ten feet long.
+They were very heavy.
+
+Three men were told off to carry each screen. One of the parties of
+three was composed of two Cornishmen (who happened to be at the ends
+of the screen) and their Cockney pal (in the middle), the screen being
+carried on their shoulders.
+
+When they had nearly reached the point in the communication trench
+where it was to be dumped, Jerry sent over a salvo of whizz-bangs. His
+range was good, and consequently the carrying party momentarily became
+disorganised. The Cornishman at the front end of the screen dashed
+towards the front line, whilst the man at the other end made a hurried
+move backwards.
+
+This left the Cockney with the whole of the weight of the screen on his
+shoulder. The excitement was over in a few seconds and the Cornishmen
+returned to find the Cockney lying on the duckboards, where he had
+subsided under the weight of his burden, trying to get up. He stopped
+struggling when he saw them and said very bitterly, "Yus: One and All's
+yer blinkin' motter; _one_ under the blinkin' screen and _all_ the rest
+'op it."
+
+"One and All," I should mention, is the Cornwalls' motto.--_"Cornwall,"
+Greenford, Middlesex._
+
+
+Atlas--On the Somme
+
+During the Somme offensive we were holding the line at Delville Wood,
+and a Cockney corporal fresh from England came to our company.
+
+He was told to take charge of a very advanced post, and our company
+officer gave him all important instructions as to bomb stores,
+ammunition, rifle grenades, emergency rations, S O S rockets, gas, and
+all the other numerous and important orders for an advanced post.
+
+After the officer asked him if he understood it all, he said, "Blimey,
+sir, 'as 'Aig gone on leave?"--_Ex-Sergt. Geary, D.C.M. (East Surrey
+Regt.), 57 Longley Road, Tooting._
+
+
+Putting the Lid on It
+
+On the Struma Front, Salonika, in September 1916, I was detailed to
+take a party of Bulgar prisoners behind the lines.
+
+Two Bulgars, one of them a huge, bald-headed man, were carrying a
+stretcher in which was reposing "Ginger" Hart, of Deptford, who was
+shot through the leg.
+
+The white bursts of shrapnel continued in our vicinity as we proceeded.
+One shell burst immediately in front of us, and we halted.
+
+It was at this juncture that I saw "Ginger" leave his stretcher and
+hop away on one leg. Having picked up a tin hat, he hopped back to the
+big Bulgar prisoner and put the hat on his bald head, saying, "Abaht
+time we put the lid on the sooit puddin', corp: that's the fifth shot
+they've fired at that target."--_G. Findlay, M.M. (late 81st Infantry
+Brigade, 27th Division), 3a Effie Place, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Taffy was a--German!
+
+In the confused fighting round Gueudecourt in 1916 a machine-gun
+section occupied a position in a maze of trenches, some of which led
+towards the German line. The divisional pioneer battalion was the
+Monmouthshire Regiment, all of whose men were Welsh and for the most
+part spoke Welsh.
+
+A ration party of the M.G.C. had gone back one night and had been
+absent some time when two members rushed into the position, gasping:
+"We took the wrong turning! Walked into Jerry's line! They've got
+Smiffy--and the rations!"
+
+We had hardly got over the shock of this news when Smiffy came
+staggering up, dragging the rations and mopping a bleeding face, at the
+same time cursing the rest of the ration party.
+
+"Luv us, Smiffy, how did you get away? We thought the Germans had got
+you for sure!"
+
+"Germans," gasped Smiffy. "GERMANS! _I thought they was the
+Monmouths!_"--_S. W. Baxter (late 86th M.G.C.), 110 Bishopsgate, E.C.2._
+
+
+A Tea-time Story
+
+At the Battle of Cambrai in November 1917 my regiment, the London Irish
+Rifles, was undergoing a terrific bombardment in Bourlon Wood.
+
+The Germans had been plastering us for about 12 hours with "all
+calibres," to say nothing of continual gassing.
+
+As we had been wearing gas-masks almost all day without respite, we
+were nearly "all in" as the afternoon wore on.
+
+I was attending to a man with a smashed foot, when I felt a touch on
+my shoulder, and, blinking up through my sweat-covered mask, I saw our
+mess-orderly with his hand over a mess-tin (to keep the gas out, as he
+said).
+
+I could hardly believe my eyes, but when I heard him say, "Tea is
+ready, Sarg. Blimey, what a strafe!" I lifted my mask and drank deeply.
+
+From that day till this it has been a wonder to me how he made it.--_S.
+Gibbons,130 Buckhold Road, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+A Tip to a Prisoner
+
+The object of our raiding party near Gouzeaucourt in 1917 was to obtain
+a prisoner.
+
+One plucky, but very much undersized, German machine gunner blazed away
+at us until actually pounced upon. A Cockney who was well among the
+leaders jumped down beside him, and heaving him up said:
+
+"Come on, old mate, you're too blinkin' good for this side!"--and then,
+noticing his lack of inches, "and if yer wants ter make the 'old man'
+larf tell him you're a 'Prussian Guard.'"--_Walter S. Johnson (late
+R.W.F.), 29 Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Cockney Logic
+
+Early in the war aeroplanes were not so common as they were later on,
+and trench "strafing" from the air was practically unheard of. One
+day two privates of the Middlesex Regiment were engaged in clearing
+a section of front line trench near the La Bassée road when a German
+plane came along and sprayed the trenches with machine-gun bullets.
+
+[Illustration: ...and they both went on digging]
+
+One of the men (both were typical Cockneys) looked up from his digging
+and said: "Strike, there's a blinkin' aeroplane."
+
+The other took no notice but went on digging.
+
+By-and-by the machine came back, still firing, whereupon the speaker
+again looked up, spat, and said: "Blimey, there's annuver of 'em."
+
+"No, 'tain't," was the reply, "it's the same blighter again."
+
+"Blimey," said the first man, "so 'tis." And both went on digging.--_W.
+P. (late Middlesex Regt. and R.A.F.), Bucks._
+
+
+"Penalty, Ref!"
+
+It was a warm corner on the Givenchy front, with whizz-bangs dealing
+out death and destruction. But it was necessary that communication be
+maintained between the various H.Q.'s, and in this particular sector
+"Alf," from Bow, and myself were detailed to keep the "lines" intact.
+
+Suddenly a whizz-bang burst above us as we were repairing some
+shattered lines. We ducked instinctively, but friend "Alf" caught a bit
+of the shell and was thrown to the bottom of the slushy trench.
+
+Being a football enthusiast he at once raised his arm in appeal, and,
+with the spirit that wins wars, shouted, "Penalty, ref!"
+
+He was dazed, but unhurt.--_W. G. Harris (late Sergt., R.E.), 34
+Denmark Street, Watford._
+
+
+An Appointment with his Medical Adviser
+
+During the battle of the Ancre in November 1916 the 51st Division were
+going over the top on our left while our battalion kept Jerry engaged
+with a raid. Every inch of the rain-sodden landscape seemed to be
+heaving beneath the combined barrages of the opposing forces.
+
+My sergeant, a D.C.M., had been lying in the trench badly wounded for
+some hours waiting for things to ease up before he could be got down
+to the dressing-station. Presently our raiding party returned with six
+prisoners, among them an insignificant-looking German officer (who,
+waving a map about, and jabbering wildly, seemed to be blaming his
+capture to the faulty tactics of his High Command).
+
+The wounded sergeant watched these antics for a while with a grin,
+driving the pain-bred puckers from his face, and then called out, "Oi,
+'Indenburg! Never mind abaht ye map o' London; wot time does this 'ere
+war end, 'cos I've got an appointment wiv my medical adviser!"
+
+Dear, brave old chap. His appointment was never kept.--_S. T. (late
+37th Div.), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+One Up, and Two to Go
+
+On the Struma front in 1917 a bombing plane was being put back into its
+hangar. Suddenly there was a terrific bang. A dozen of us ran up to see
+what had happened, but a Cockney voice from inside the hangar cried
+out, "Don't come in. There's two more bombs to go off, and I can't find
+'em."--_A. Dickinson, Brixton._
+
+
+On the Parados
+
+Dawn of a very hot day in September 1916 on the Balkan front. We were
+in the enemy trenches at "Machine Gun Hill," a position hitherto
+occupied by the Prussian Guards, who were there to encourage the
+Bulgars.
+
+We had taken the position the previous evening with very little loss.
+As the day broke we discovered that we were enfiladed on all sides
+and overlooked by the Prussians not more than forty yards away. It
+was impossible to evacuate wounded and prisoners or for reserves to
+approach with food, water, and ammunition. The enemy counter-attacked
+in overwhelming numbers; shells rained on us; our own were falling
+short; it was suicide to show one's head. Towards noon, casualties
+lying about. The sun merciless. Survivors thoroughly exhausted. Up
+jumped a Cockney bomber. "Blimey, I can't stick this," and perched
+himself on the parados. "I can see 'em; chuck some 'Mills' up." And as
+fast as they were handed to him he pitched bombs into the Prussians'
+midst, creating havoc. He lasted about three minutes, then fell,
+riddled with bullets. He had stemmed the tide.
+
+Shortly afterwards we retired. His pluck was never recorded or
+recognised, but his feat will never be forgotten by at least one of the
+few who got through.--_George McCann, 50 Guilford Street, London, W._
+
+
+Not Croquet
+
+We were occupying a support line, early in 1918, and a party of us was
+detailed to repair the barbed wire during the night.
+
+A Cockney found himself holding a stake while a Cornish comrade drove
+it home with a mallet.
+
+Suddenly a shell exploded a few yards from the pair and both were very
+badly wounded.
+
+When the Cockney recovered consciousness he was heard to remark to his
+comrade in misfortune, "Blimey, yer wants to be more careful wiv that
+there mallet; yer nearly 'it my 'and wiv it when that there firework
+exploded."--_A. A. Homer, 16 Grove Place, Enfield Wash, Middlesex._
+
+
+Sausages and Mashed
+
+At the end of 1914 we were in the trenches in the Ypres Salient. As
+we were only about 30 yards from the enemy lines, bombing went on all
+day. The German bombs, shaped like a long sausage, could be seen coming
+through the air. Our sentries, on the look-out for these, would shout:
+"Sausage right!" or "Sausage left!" as they came over.
+
+One night we were strengthened by reinforcements, including several
+Cockneys. The next morning one of our sentries saw a bomb coming
+over and shouted "Sausage right!" There followed an explosion which
+smothered two of our new comrades in mud and shreds of sandbag. One of
+the two got up, with sackcloth twisted all round his neck and pack.
+"'Ere, Bill, wot was that?" he asked one of our men.
+
+"Why, one of those sausages," Bill replied.
+
+"Lumme," said the new man, as he freed himself from the sacking, "I
+don't mind the sausages, but," he added as he wiped the mud from his
+eyes and face, "I don't like the mash."--_H. Millard (late East Surrey
+Regt.), 3 Nevill Road, Stoke Newington, N._
+
+
+Cheery to the End
+
+We were lining up to go over in the Battle of Arras on April 9, 1917.
+Ours being a Lancashire regiment, there were only two of us Cockneys in
+our platoon. We were standing easy, waiting for the rum issue, and Tom,
+my pal (we both came from Stratford), came over to me singing "Let's
+all go down the Strand...."
+
+Most of the Lancashire lads were looking a bit glum, but it cheered
+them up, and they all began to sing. I was feeling a bit gloomy myself,
+and Tom, seeing this, said: "What's the matter with you, Jimmy?"
+
+"I suppose I'll see you in London Hospital next week, Tom," I said.
+
+"Oh, shut up," says he. "If Jerry sends one over and it's got our names
+on it, why worry? And if we get a bad Blighty one, then I hopes they
+buries us at Manor Park. Here, Jim, tie this disc round me neck."
+
+Then the rum came up, and he started them singing, "And another little
+drink wouldn't do us any harm!"
+
+Off we went--and only ten minutes later he was gone. He was buried at
+Blany, Arras, not Manor Park.--_J. Pugh (late 1st King's Own Royal
+Lancasters), 27 Lizban Street, Blackheath, S.E.5._
+
+
+Souvenirs First
+
+The following incident took place during the Battle of Loos, September
+1915. I had been to Battalion H.Q. with a message and whilst awaiting a
+reply stood with others on "Harrow Road" watching our wounded go by.
+
+We frequently recognised wounded pals on the stretchers and inquired as
+to the nature of their wounds. The usual form of inquiry was: "Hullo
+---- what have you got?" In reply to this query one wounded man of our
+battalion, ignoring his wound as being of lesser importance, proudly
+answered: "Two Jerry helmets and an Iron Cross!"--_A. H. Bell (late
+Private, 15th London Regt., T.F.), 31 Raeburn Avenue, Surbiton, Surrey._
+
+
+Seven Shies a Tanner!
+
+It was near Hebuterne and very early in the morning of July 1, 1916. A
+terrific bombardment by both the Germans and ourselves was in progress
+just prior to the launching of our Somme offensive. We were in assembly
+trenches waiting for the dread zero hour.
+
+Away on our right some German guns were letting us have it pretty hot,
+and in consequence the "troops" were not feeling in the best of spirits.
+
+With us was a very popular Cockney corporal. He took his tin hat from
+off his head when the tension was high and, banging on it with his
+bayonet, cried: "Roll up, me lucky lads! Seven shies a tanner! Who'll
+'ave a go!" That bit of nonsense relieved the tension and enabled us to
+pull ourselves together.--_A. V. B. (late 9th Londons), Guildford._
+
+
+Bill Hawkins Fights Them All
+
+Whilst on the Ypres front during the fighting in 1918 we made an
+early-morning attack across the railway line in front of Dickebusch.
+After going about fifty yards across No Man's Land my Cockney pal (Bill
+Hawkins, from Stepney), who was running beside me, got a slight wound
+in the arm, and before he had gone another two yards he got another
+wound in the left leg.
+
+Suddenly he stopped, lifted his uninjured arm at the Germans and
+shouted, "Blimey, wot yer all firing at me for? Am I the only blinkin'
+man in this war?"--_S. Stevens (late Middlesex Regt., 2nd Battn.), 7
+Blenheim Street, Chelsea, S.W._
+
+
+Hide and Seek with Jerry
+
+To get information before the Somme offensive, the new idea of making
+daylight raids on the German trenches was adopted. It fell to our
+battalion to make the first big raid.
+
+Our objective was the "brick-fields" at Beaurains, near Arras, and our
+orders were to take as many prisoners as possible, hold the trench
+for half an hour, do as much damage as we could, and then return. A
+covering barrage was put down, and over we went, one hundred strong.
+
+We got into Jerry's trench all right, but, owing to the many dug-outs
+and tunnels, we could only find a few Germans, and these, having no
+time to bolt underground, got out of the trench and ran to take cover
+behind the kilns and brick-stacks.
+
+And then the fun began. While the main party of us got to work in the
+trench, a few made after the men who had run into the brick-fields, and
+it was a case of hide and seek, round and round and in and out of the
+kilns and brick-stacks.
+
+Despite the seriousness of the situation, one chap, a Cockney, entered
+so thoroughly into the spirit of the thing that when, after a lengthy
+chase, he at last clapped a German on the shoulder, he shouted, "You're
+'e!"--_E. W. Fellows, M.M. (late 6th D.C.L.I.), 35 Dunlace Road,
+Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Too Much for his Imagination
+
+In the platoon of cyclists I was posted to on the outbreak of war was
+a Cockney--a "Charlie Chaplin" without the funny feet. If there was a
+funny side to a thing, he saw it.
+
+One day, on the advance, just before the battle of the Marne, our
+platoon was acting as part of the left flank guard when a number of
+enemy cavalry were seen advancing over a ridge, some distance away. We
+were ordered to dismount and extend. We numbered about sixteen, so our
+line was not a long one.
+
+A prominent object was pointed out to us, judged at about 150 yards
+away, and orders were given not to fire until the enemy reached that
+spot.
+
+We could see that we were greatly outnumbered, and having to wait for
+them to reach that spot seemed to double the suspense. Our leader was
+giving commands one second and talking like a father the next. He said,
+"Keep cool; each take a target; show them you are British. You have as
+good a chance as they, and although they are superior in numbers they
+have no other superior quality. I want you just to imagine that you
+are on the range again, firing for your pay." Then our Cockney Charlie
+chimed in with: "Yes, but we ain't got no bloomin' markers."--_S. Leggs
+(late Rifle Brigade and Cyclists), 33 New Road, Grays, Essex._
+
+
+"Currants" for Bunn
+
+After we had taken part in the advance on the Somme in August 1916 my
+battalion was ordered to rest at Bazentin.
+
+We had only been there a day or so when we were ordered to relieve
+the Tyneside Scottish who were badly knocked about. Hardly had we
+reached the front lines, when a little Cockney named Bunn (we never
+knew how he carried his pack, he was so small) got hit. We called for
+stretcher-bearers.
+
+When they put him on the stretcher and were carrying him down the line,
+a doctor asked him his name. The Cockney looked up with a smile and
+answered: "Bunn, sir, and the blighters have put some currants into me
+this time." This gallant Cockney died afterwards.--_J. E. Cully (late
+13th King's Royal Rifles), 76 Milkwood Road, S.E.24._
+
+
+The Driver to his Horse
+
+The artillery driver's affection for his own particular pair of
+horses is well known. Our battery, in a particularly unhealthy spot
+in front of Zillebeke, in the Salient, had run out of ammunition, and
+the terrible state of the ground thereabout in the autumn of 1917
+necessitated the use of pack-horses to "deliver the goods," and even
+then it was accomplished with difficulty.
+
+A little Cockney driver with a pair named Polly and Bill had loaded
+up and was struggling through the mire. Three times Bill had dragged
+him on to his knees and up to his waist in the slush when a big Fritz
+shell dropped uncomfortably near. Polly, with a mighty rear, threw the
+Cockney on to his back and, descending, struck him with a hoof.
+
+Fed up to the teeth and desperate, he struggled to his feet, covered
+from head to feet in slime, and, clenching his fist, struck at the
+trembling and frightened horse, unloading a brief but very vivid
+description of its pedigree and probable future.
+
+Then, cooling off, he began to pacify the mare, apologised, and
+pardoned her vice by saying, "Never mind, ole gal--I didn't mean ter
+bash yer! I fought the uvver one was hot stuff, but, strike me pink,
+you don't seem _'ooman_!"--_G. Newell (ex-Sergt., R.F.A.), 22 Queen
+Road, St. Albans._
+
+
+Two Kinds of "Shorts"
+
+August 1916, Delville Wood. We had been brought specially from rest
+camp to take the remainder of the wood, which was being stoutly
+contested by the Germans and was holding up our advance. The usual
+barrage, and over we went, and were met by the Germans standing on top
+of their trenches. A fierce bombing fight began. The scrap lasted a
+long time, but at last we charged and captured the trench.
+
+[Illustration: "Yus, yer needn't stare--I'm real."]
+
+One of our men, quite a small Cockney, captured a German about twice
+his own size. The German was so surprised at being captured by a person
+so insignificant looking that he stood and stared. Our Cockney, seeing
+his amazement, said: "Yus, yer needn't stare, I'm real, and wot's more,
+I got a good mind ter punch yer under the blinkin' ear fer spoiling me
+rest!"--_F. M. Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Batt. D.C.L.I), 33
+Dunlace Road, Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Mespot--On 99 Years' Lease
+
+I was in Mesopotamia from 1916 till 1920, and after the Armistice was
+signed there was still considerable trouble with the Arabs.
+
+In the summer of 1919 I, with a party of 23 other R.A.S.C. men, was
+surrounded by the Arabs at an outpost that was like a small fort. We
+had taken up supplies for troops stationed there. There were about 100
+Indian soldiers, and a few British N.C.O.'s in charge.
+
+It was no use "running the gauntlet." We were on a hill and kept the
+Arabs at bay all day, also the next night.
+
+The next day all was quiet again, but in the afternoon an Arab rode
+into the camp on horseback with a message, which he gave to the first
+Tommy he saw. It happened to be one of our fellows, a proper Cockney.
+He read the message--written in English--requesting us to surrender.
+
+Our Cockney pal said a few kind words to the Arab, and decided to send
+a message back.
+
+He wrote this on the back of the paper: "Sorry, Mr. Shake. We have
+only just taken the place, and we have got it on 99 years' lease.
+Yours faithfully, Old Bill and Co., Ltd., London."--_W. Thurgood (late
+R.A.S.C., M.T.), 46 Maldon Road, Southend-on-Sea, Essex._
+
+
+"Fro Something at Them!"
+
+There was a certain divisional commander in France who enjoyed a
+popularity that was almost unique. He was quite imperturbable, whatever
+the situation.
+
+Unfortunately, he had an impediment in his speech, and when first one
+met him he was difficult to understand. But heaven help anyone who
+asked him to repeat anything. A light would come into his eye, and he
+would seize hold of his victim by the shoulder-strap and heave and tug
+till it came off.
+
+"You'll understand me," he would say, "when I tell you your
+shoulder-strap is undone!"
+
+The Division he commanded had just put up a wonderful fight just
+south of Arras in the March '18 show, and, having suffered very heavy
+casualties, were taken out of the line and put into a cushy front next
+door to the Portuguese.
+
+The morning after they took over the Germans launched a heavy attack
+on the Portuguese, who withdrew somewhat hurriedly, so that the whole
+flank of the British division was open.
+
+The general was sitting eating his breakfast--he had been roused at
+six by the bombardment--when an excited orderly came into the room and
+reported that the Germans had got right in behind the Division and were
+now actually in the garden of the general's château.
+
+The general finished drinking his cup of coffee, the orderly still
+standing to attention, waiting instructions.
+
+"Then you had better 'fro' something at them--or shoo them away," said
+the general.--_F. A. P., Cavalry Club, Piccadilly, W._
+
+
+Missed his Mouth-organ
+
+During the Battle of the Somme our trench-mortar battery was going back
+after a few days' rest. It was very dark and raining. As we neared our
+destination it appeared that Jerry and our chaps were having a real
+argument.
+
+We were going up a road called "Queen's Hollow." Jerry was enfilading
+us on both sides, and a rare bombing fight was going on at the farther
+end of the Hollow--seventy or a hundred yards in front of us. We were
+expecting to feel the smack of a bullet any moment, and there was a
+terrible screeching and bursting of shells, with a few "Minnies" thrown
+in. We were in a fine pickle, and I had just about had enough when
+my pal (a lad from "The Smoke") nearly put me on my back by stopping
+suddenly.
+
+"I don't like this, Bomb," he said.
+
+"What's wrong with you? Get on," I replied, "or we'll all be blown sky
+high."
+
+"Oh, all right," he said, "but I wish I'd brought me mouf orgin. I
+could then have livened fings up a bit."--_"Bombardier" (R.A.), late
+T.M.B., 7th Division._
+
+
+Water-cooled
+
+There must be at least six men still alive who remember a certain
+affair at Kemmel. During the latter part of April 1918 our machine
+gunners had been having a bad time, and one old Cockney sergeant found
+himself and his party isolated miles in front of our line.
+
+The cool way in which he gave orders, as he told his men to make
+their way back--lying down for a bit, then making a run for another
+shelter--would have been humorous if conditions had not been so
+terrifying.
+
+He himself kept his gun working to protect their retreat, and when
+he saw they had reached a place of safety he picked up his gun and
+rejoined them unhurt.
+
+One of his men, describing the action afterwards, said, "Carried his
+gun three miles--wouldn't part with it--and the first thing he did when
+he was able to settle down quietly was to start cleaning the blessed
+thing!"--_H. R. Tanner, "Romsdal," Newton Ferrers, S. Devon._
+
+
+Top-hatted Piper of Mons
+
+During the retreat from Mons it was a case of "going while the going
+was good" until called upon to make a stand to harass the enemy's
+advance.
+
+After the stand at Le Cateau, bad and blistered feet caused many to
+stop by the wayside. Among these, in passing with my little squad,
+I noticed a piper belonging to a Scottish regiment sitting with his
+blistered feet exposed and his pipes lying beside him. Staff officers
+were continually riding back and urging the parties of stragglers to
+make an effort to push on before they were overtaken.
+
+In the late afternoon of this same day, having myself come up with my
+unit, I was resting on the roadside when I heard the skirl of bagpipes.
+Before long there came into sight, marching with a fair swing, too,
+as motley a throng as one ever saw in the King's uniform. Headed by a
+staff officer were about 150 men of all regiments with that same piper,
+hatless and with one stocking, in front.
+
+Beside him was a Cockney of the Middlesex Regiment, with a silk hat
+on his head, whose cheeks threatened to burst as he churned out the
+strains of "Alexander's Rag-time Band" on the bagpipes. Being a bit
+of a piper himself, he was giving "Jock" a lift and was incidentally
+the means of fetching this little band away from the clutches of the
+enemy.--_"Buster" Brown (late Bedfordshire Regt.), Hertford._
+
+
+Two Heads and a Bullet
+
+Early in 1916 ten of us were going up with rations--chiefly bread and
+water. In one part of the trench there were no duckboards and the vile
+mud was thigh-deep.
+
+Here we abandoned the trench and stumbled along, tripping over barbed
+wire and falling headlong into shell-holes half-full of icy water.
+
+A German sniper was at work. Suddenly a bullet pinged midway between
+the last two of the party.
+
+"Hear that?" said No. 9. "Right behind my neck!"
+
+"Yes," replied No. 10, "right in front of my bloomin' nose!"--_C. A.
+Davies (late 23rd R. Fusiliers), 85 Saxton Street, Gillingham, Kent._
+
+
+Spoiling the Story
+
+We were billeted in the upper room of a corner house north of Albert,
+and were listening to "Spoofer's" memories of days "dahn Walworf way."
+
+"Yus," he said, "I ses to the gal, 'Two doorsteps an' a bloater.'"
+
+At that moment a "coal-box" caught the corner of the house, bringing
+down the angle of the wall and three-parts of the floor on which we had
+squatted.
+
+Except for bruises, none of us was injured, and when the dust subsided
+we saw "Spoofer" looking down at us from a bit of the flooring that
+remained intact.
+
+"Yus," he continued, as though nothing had happened, "as I was saying,
+I'd just called fer the bloater...."
+
+Came another "coal-box," which shook down the remainder of the floor
+and with it "Spoofer."
+
+Struggling to his hands and knees, he said, "Blimey, the blinkin'
+bloater's cold nah."--_F. Lates, 62 St. Ervan's Road, North
+Kensington._
+
+
+Afraid of Dogs
+
+Towards the end of October 1918 I was out on patrol in front of Tournai
+on a dark, windy night. I had a Cockney private with me, and we were
+some distance from our lines when we heard a dog barking. All at once,
+before I could stop him, the Cockney whistled it.
+
+I threw the Cockney down and dropped myself. A German Verey light went
+up--followed by a hail of machine-gun bullets in our direction. As the
+light spread out, we saw the dog fastened to a German machine-gun! We
+lay very still, and presently, when things had quietened down, we slid
+cautiously backwards until it was safe to get up.
+
+All the Cockney said was, "Crikey, corp, I had the wind up. A blinkin'
+good job that there dawg was chained up. Why? 'Cause 'e might 'ave
+bitten us. I allus was afeard o' dawgs."--_J. Milsun (late 1/5th
+Battn., The King's Own 55th Div.), 31 Collingwood Road, Lexden,
+Colchester._
+
+
+The Song of Battle
+
+At the first Gaza battle we had to advance 1,700 yards across a plain
+in full view of the Turks, who hurled a terrific barrage at us. We were
+in artillery formation, and we marched up until within rifle range.
+With machine guns and artillery the Turks were depleting our ranks, so
+that less than half of us were still marching on at 500 yards range.
+
+In my section was the Cockney "funny man" of the company. When things
+were bad, and we were all wondering how long we would survive, he began
+singing lustily a song which someone had sung at our last concert party
+behind the lines, the refrain of which was "I've never heard of anybody
+dying from kissing, have you?"
+
+Before he had started on the second line nearly everyone was singing
+with him, and men were killed singing that song. To the remainder of us
+it acted like a tonic.
+
+Good old Jack, when he was wounded later he must have been in terrible
+pain, yet he joked so that at first we would not believe he was
+seriously hit. He shouted, "Where is 'e?--let me get at 'im."--_J. T.
+Jones (late 54th Division), 37 Whittaker Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+Stalls at "Richthofen's Circus"
+
+A New Zealander was piloting an old F.E. 2B (pusher) 'plane up and down
+over the lines, observing for the artillery, when he got caught by
+"Richthofen's Circus."
+
+The petrol tank behind the pilot's seat was set on fire and burning oil
+poured past him into the observer's cockpit ahead and the clothes of
+both men started to sizzle.
+
+They were indeed in a warm situation, their one hope being to dive into
+Zillebeke Lake, which the New Zealander noticed below. By the time they
+splashed into the water machine and men were in flames; and, moreover,
+when they came up the surface surrounding them was aflame with the
+burning oil.
+
+Treading water desperately and ridding themselves of their heavy sodden
+flying coats, they made a last bid for life by swimming under water,
+that flaming water, and at last, half-dead, reached the bank.
+
+There a strong arm gripped the New Zealander by the scruff of the neck
+and he was hauled to safety, dimly aware of a hoarse voice complaining
+bitterly, "Ours is the best hid battery in this sector, the only
+unspotted battery. You _would_ choose just 'ere to land, wouldn't yer,
+and give the bloomin' show away?"
+
+Our Cockney battery sergeant-major had, no doubt, never heard of Hobson
+or his choice.--_E. H. Orton, 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden City, Herts._
+
+
+"Butter-Fingers!"
+
+A Cockney infantryman of the 47th Division was on the fire-step on the
+night preceding the attack at Loos. He was huddled up in a ground-sheet
+trying to keep cheerful in the drizzle.
+
+Suddenly a British 12-in. shell passed over him, and as he heard its
+slow rumble he muttered, "Catch that one, you blighters."
+
+Just then it burst, and with a chuckle he added, "Oh, butter-fingers,
+yer dropped it!"--_Henry J. Tuck (late Lt., R.G.A.)._
+
+
+Getting into Hot Water
+
+We were in the front line, and one evening a Battersea lad and myself
+were ordered to go and fetch tea for the company from the cook-house,
+which was in Bluff Trench. It was about a mile from the line down a
+"beautiful" duckboard track.
+
+With the boiling tea strapped to our backs in big containers, both
+of which leaked at the nozzles, we started for the line. Then Jerry
+started sniping at us. There came from the line a sergeant, who
+shouted, "Why don't you lads duck?" "That's right," replied my chum.
+"D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded to death?"--_H. G. Harrap (23rd
+London Regiment), 25 Renfrew Road, S.E._
+
+[Illustration: "D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded ter death?"]
+
+
+
+
+2. LULL
+
+
+Rate of Exchange--on Berlin
+
+With four Cockney comrades of the Rifle Brigade, during 1915 at
+Fleurbaix, I was indulging in a _quiet_ game of nap in the front line.
+
+One man dropped out, "broke to the wide." Being an enthusiastic card
+player, he offered various articles for sale, but could find no buyers.
+At last he offered to _find_ a Jerry prisoner and sell him for a franc.
+
+He was absent for some time, but eventually turned up with his hostage,
+and, the agreement being duly honoured, he recommenced his game with
+his fresh capital.
+
+All the players came through alive, their names being J. Cullison, F.
+Bones, A. White, W. Deer (the first-named playing leading part), and
+myself.--_F. J. Chapman (late 11th Batt. Rifle Brigade), 110 Beckton
+Road, Victoria Docks, E.16._
+
+
+A Hen Coup
+
+During the retreat from Mons strict orders were issued against looting.
+One day an officer, coming round a corner, discovered a stalwart
+Cockney Tommy in the act of wringing the neck of an inoffensive-looking
+chicken. The moment the Tommy caught sight of his officer he was heard
+to murmur to the chicken, "Would yer, yer brute!" Quite obviously,
+therefore, the deed had been done in self-defence.--_The Rev. T. K.
+Lowdell, Church of St. Augustine, Lillie Road, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+A "Baa-Lamb" in the Trenches
+
+The "dug-out" was really a hole scraped in the side of a trench leading
+up to the front line and some 50 yards from it. It was October '16 on
+the Somme, after the weather had broken. The trench was about two feet
+deep in liquid mud--a delightful thoroughfare for runners and other
+unfortunate ones who had to use it.
+
+The officer in the dug-out heard the _splosh--splosh--splosh_ ... of a
+single passenger coming up the trench. As the splosher drew abreast the
+dug-out the officer heard him declaiming to himself: "Baa! baa! I'm a
+blinkin' lamb lorst in the ruddy wilderness. Baa! baa!..."
+
+And when the bleating died away the _splosh--splosh--splosh_ ... grew
+fainter too, as the "lamb" was lost in the night.--_L. W. Martinnant,
+64 Thornsbeach Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+He Coloured
+
+When serving with the Artists' Rifles in France we went into the line
+to relieve the "Nelsons" of the 63rd (Royal Naval) Division.
+
+As I was passing one of their men, a regular "Ole Bill," who was seated
+on the fire-step, I heard him say, "Artists' Rifles, eh; I wonder if
+any of you chaps would _paint_ me a plate of 'am and eggs!"--_R. C.
+Toogood, 43 Richmond Park Avenue, Bournemouth._
+
+
+Why the Fat Man Laughed
+
+During the winter of 1914-15 the trenches were just like canals of
+sloppy mud, and dug-outs were always falling in. To repair the dug-outs
+pit-props were used, but they often had to be carried great distances
+up communication trenches, and were very difficult to handle. The most
+popular way to carry a prop was to rest one end on the left shoulder of
+one man and the other end on the right shoulder of the man behind.
+
+On one occasion the leading man was short and fat, and the rear man was
+tall and thin. Suddenly the front man slipped and the prop fell down
+in the mud and splashed the thin man from head to foot. To add to his
+discomfort the little fat man gave a hearty laugh.
+
+"Can't see anything to larf at, mate," said the mud-splashed hero,
+looking down at himself.
+
+"I'm larfing," said the little fat Cockney, "'cos I've just remembered
+that I tipped the recruiting sergeant a bloomin' tanner to put me name
+down fust on his list so as I'd get out here quick."--_A. L. Churchill
+(late Sergt., Worcs. Regt.), 6 Long Lane, Blackheath, Staffs._
+
+
+He Met Shackleton!
+
+The troops in North Russia, in the winter of 1918-19, were equipped
+with certain additional articles of clothing designed on the same
+principles as those used on Antarctic expeditions. Among these were
+what were known as "Shackleton boots," large canvas boots with thick
+leather soles. These boots were not at all suitable for walking on hard
+snow, being very clumsy, and they were very unpopular with everyone.
+
+The late Sir Ernest Shackleton was sent out by the War Office to give
+advice on matters of clothing, equipment, and so on. When he arrived at
+Archangel he went up to a sentry whose beat was in front of a warehouse
+about three steps up from the road, and said to him, "Well, my man,
+what do you think of the Shackleton boot?"
+
+To this the sentry replied: "If I could only meet the perishing
+blighter wot invented them I'd very soon show----"
+
+Before he could complete the sentence his feet, clad in the ungainly
+boots, slipped on the frozen snow, and slithering down the steps on
+his back, he shot into Sir Ernest and the two of them completed the
+discussion on Shackleton boots rolling over in the snow!--_K. D.,
+Elham, near Canterbury._
+
+
+Domestic Scene: Scene, Béthune
+
+Near the front line at Béthune in I917 was a farm which had been
+evacuated by the tenants, but there were still some cattle and other
+things on it. We were, of course, forbidden to touch them.
+
+One day we missed one of our fellows, a Cockney, for about two hours,
+and guessed he was on the "scrounge" somewhere or other.
+
+[Illustration: "... only taking the kid and the dawg for a bit of a
+blow."]
+
+Eventually he was seen coming down the road pushing an old-fashioned
+pram loaded with cabbages, and round his waist there was a length of
+rope, to the other end of which was tied an old cow.
+
+You can imagine what a comical sight it was, but the climax came when
+he was challenged by the corporal, "Where the devil have you been?"
+"Me?" he replied innocently. "I only bin takin' the kid and the dawg
+for a bit of a blow."--_A. Rush (late 4th Batt. R. Fus.), 27 Milton
+Road, Wimbledon._
+
+
+Getting Their Bearings
+
+It was on the Loos front. One night a party of us were told off for
+reconnoitring. On turning back about six of us, with our young officer,
+missed our way and, after creeping about for some 15 minutes, a
+message came down, "Keep very quiet, we are nearly in the German lines."
+
+I passed on the message to the chap behind me, who answered in anything
+but a whisper, "Thank 'eaven we know where we are at last."--_H. Hutton
+(late 16th Lancers, attached Engineers), Marlborough Road, Upper
+Holloway._
+
+
+High Tea
+
+During the winter of 1917-18 I was serving with my battery of Field
+Artillery in Italy. We had posted to us a draft of drivers just out
+from home, and one of them, seeing an observation balloon for the first
+time, asked an old driver what it was.
+
+"Oh, that," replied the old hand, who hailed from Hackney--"that is
+the Air Force canteen!"--_M. H. Cooke (late "B" Battery, 72nd Brigade,
+R.F.A.), Regency Street, Westminster._
+
+
+Lots in a Name
+
+Salonika, mid-autumn, and torrents of rain. The battalion, changing
+over to another front, had trekked all through the night. An hour
+before dawn a halt was called to bivouac on the reverse slope of a hill
+until the journey could be completed in the darkness of the following
+night.
+
+Orderlies from each platoon were collecting blankets from their company
+pack mules. Last of them all was a diminutive Cockney, who staggered
+off in the darkness with his load perched on his head. Slowly and
+laboriously, slipping backwards at almost every step, he stumbled
+and slithered up hill in the ankle-deep mud. Presently he paused for
+breath, and took advantage of the opportunity to relieve his feelings
+in these well-chosen words: "All I can say is, the bloke as christened
+this 'ere perishin' place Greece was about blinking well right."--_P.
+H. T. (26th Division)._
+
+
+Gunga Din the Second
+
+After the battle of Shaikh Sa'Ad in Mesopotamia in January 1916 more
+than 300 wounded were being transported down the Tigris to Basra in a
+steamer and on open barges lashed on either side of it. Many suffered
+from dysentery as well as wounds--and it was raining.
+
+There appeared to be only one Indian bhisti (water-carrier), an old
+man over 60 years of age, to attend to all. He was nearly demented
+in trying to serve everyone at once. When my severely wounded
+neighbour--from Camberwell, he said--saw the bhisti, his welcome made
+us smile through our miseries.
+
+"Coo! If it ain't old Gunga Din! Wherever 'ave yer bin, me old brown
+son? Does yer muvver know yer aht?"--_A. S. Edwardes (late C.S.M., 1st
+Seaforth Highlanders), West Gate, Royal Hospital, Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+A Fag fer an 'Orse
+
+Late one afternoon towards the end of 1917, on the Cambrai sector,
+enemy counter-attacks had caused confusion behind our lines, and as I
+was walking along a road I met a disconsolate-looking little Cockney
+infantryman leading a large-size horse. He stopped me and said, "Give
+us a fag, mate, and I'll give yer an 'orse."
+
+[Illustration: "Give us a fag and I'll give yer an 'orse."]
+
+I gathered that he had found the horse going spare and was taking it
+along with him for company's sake.--_H. J. Batt (late Royal Fusiliers),
+21 Whitehall Park Road, W.4._
+
+
+Put to Graze
+
+It was at the siege of Kut, when the 13th ("Iron") Division was trying
+to relieve that gallant but hard-pressed body of men under General
+Townshend. Rations had been very low for days, and the battery had been
+digging gun-pits in several positions, till at last we had a change
+of position and "dug in" to stay a bit. What with bad water, digging
+in, and hardly any food, the men were getting fed up generally. An
+order came out to the effect that "A certain bunchy grass (detailed
+explanation) if picked and boiled would make a very nourishing meal."
+One hefty Cockney, "Dusty" Miller, caused a laugh when he vented
+his feelings with "'Struth, and nah we got ter be blinking sheep.
+Baa-Baa!"--_E. J. Bates (late R.F.A.), 37 Ulverscroft Road, E. Dulwich._
+
+
+Smith's Feather Pillow
+
+The boys had "rescued" a few hens from a deserted farm. The morning was
+windy and feathers were scattered in the mud.
+
+Picquet officer (appearing from a corner of the trench): "What's the
+meaning of all these feathers, Brown?"
+
+Brown: "Why, sir, Smiff wrote 'ome sayin' 'e missed 'is 'ome comforts,
+an' 'is ma sent 'im a fevver piller; an' 'e's so mad at our kiddin'
+that 'e's in that dug-out tearin' it to bits."--_John W. Martin, 16
+Eccles Road, Lavender Hill, S.W.11._
+
+
+Bombs and Arithmetic
+
+We were in the trenches in front of Armentières in the late summer of
+1916. It was a fine, quiet day, with "nothing doing." I was convinced
+that a working party was busy in a section of the German trenches right
+opposite.
+
+Just then "O. C. Stokes" came along with his crew and their little
+trench gun. I told him of my "target," and suggested that he should try
+a shot with his Stokes mortar. Glad of something definite to do, he
+willingly complied.
+
+The Stokes gun was set down on the floor of the trench just behind my
+back, as I stood on the fire-step to observe the shoot.
+
+I gave the range. The gun was loaded. There was a faint pop, a slight
+hiss--then silence. Was the bomb going to burst in the gun and blow us
+all to bits? I glanced round apprehensively. A perfectly calm Cockney
+voice from one of the crew reassured me:
+
+"It's orl right, sir! If it don't go off while yer counts five--_you'll
+know it's a dud!_"--_Capt. T. W. C. Curd (late 20th Northumberland
+Fusiliers), 72 Victoria Street, S.W.1._
+
+
+Help from Hindenburg
+
+I was serving with the M.G.C. at Ecoust. Two men of the Middlesex
+Regiment had been busy for a week digging a sump hole in the exposed
+hollow in front of the village and had excavated to a depth of about
+eight feet. A bombardment which had continued all night became so
+severe about noon of the next day that orders were given for all to
+take what cover was available. It was noticed that the two men were
+still calmly at work in the hole, and I was sent to warn them to take
+shelter. They climbed out, and as we ran over the hundred yards which
+separated us from the trench a high explosive shell landed right in
+the hole we had just left, converting it into a huge crater. One of
+the men turned to me and said, "Lumme, mate, if old Hindenburg ain't
+been and gone and finished the blooming job for us!"--_J. S. F.,
+Barnet, Herts._
+
+
+Raised his Voice--And the Dust
+
+In the early part of 1917, while the Germans were falling back to the
+Hindenburg line on the Somme, trench warfare was replaced by advanced
+outposts for the time being. Rations were taken up to the company
+headquarters on mules.
+
+[Illustration: "S'sh. For 'eaven's sake be quiet."]
+
+Another C.Q.M.S. and I were going up with mules one night and lost our
+way. We wandered on until a voice from a shell-hole challenged us.
+_We had passed the company headquarters and landed among the advanced
+outposts._
+
+The chap implored us to be quiet, and just as we turned back one of the
+mules chose to give the Germans a sample of his vocal abilities.
+
+The outpost fellow told us what he thought of us. The transport chap
+leading the mule pulled and tugged, using kind, gentle words as drivers
+do.
+
+And in the midst of it all my C.Q.M.S. friend walked up to the mule,
+holding his hands up, and whispered: "S-sh! For 'eaven's sake be
+quiet."--_F. W. Piper (ex-Sherwood Foresters), 30 The Crescent,
+Watford, Herts._
+
+
+Mademoiselle from--Palestine
+
+After the fall of Gaza our battalion, on occupying a Jewish colony in
+the coastal sector which had just been evacuated by the Turks, received
+a great ovation from the overjoyed inhabitants.
+
+[Illustration: "Mademoiselle from Ah-my-Tears."]
+
+One of our lads, born well within hearing of Bow Bells, was effusively
+greeted by a Hebrew lady of uncertain age, who warmly embraced him and
+kissed him on each cheek.
+
+Freeing himself, and gesticulating in the approved manner, he turned to
+us and said: "Strike me pink! Mademoiselle from Ah-my-tears."--_Edward
+Powell, 80 Cavendish Road, Kentish Town, N.W._
+
+
+"Ally Toot Sweet"
+
+At the latter end of September 1914 the 5th Division was moving
+from the Aisne to La Bassée and a halt was made in the region of
+Crépy-en-Valois, where a large enemy shell was found (dud).
+
+[Illustration: "Ally toot sweet. If this shell goes orf...."]
+
+A Cockney private was posted to keep souvenir hunters from tampering
+with it. When he received his dinner he sat straddle-legged on the
+shell, admired by a few French children, whom he proceeded to address
+as follows: "Ally! Toot sweet, or you'll get blown to 'ell if this
+blinkin' shell goes orf."--_E. P. Ferguson, "Brecon," Fellows Road, S.
+Farnborough, Hants._
+
+
+Luckier than the Prince
+
+In the autumn of 1916, while attending to the loading of ammunition at
+Minden Post, a driver suddenly exclaimed, "'Struth, Quarter; who's the
+boy officer with all the ribbons up?"
+
+Glancing up, I recognised the Prince of Wales, quite unattended,
+pushing a bicycle through the mud.
+
+When I told the driver who the officer really was, the reply came
+quickly: "Blimey, I'm better off than he is; they _have_ given me a
+horse to ride."--_H. J. Adams (ex.--B.Q.M.S., R.F.A.), Highclare,
+Station Road, Hayes, Middlesex._
+
+
+A Jerry he _Couldn't_ Kill
+
+During a patrol in No Man's Land at Flesquières we were between a
+German patrol and their front line, but eventually we were able to get
+back. I went to our Lewis gun post and told them Jerry had a patrol
+out. I was told: "One German came dahn 'ere last night--full marchin'
+order." "Didn't you ask him in?" I said. "No. Told him to get out of
+it. You can't put a Lewis gun on one man going on leave," was the
+reply.--_C. G. Welch, 109 Sayer Street, S.E.17._
+
+
+"Q" for Quinine
+
+In the autumn of 1917, on the Salonika front, we were very often
+short of bread, sugar, etc., the reason, we were told by the
+Quartermaster-Sergeant, being that the boats were continually sunk.
+
+At this time the "quinine parade" was strictly enforced, because of
+malaria, which was very prevalent.
+
+One day we were lined up for our daily dose, which was a very strong
+and unpleasant one, when one of our drivers, a bit of a wag, was heard
+to say to the M.O.: "Blimey! the bread boat goes dahn, the beef boat
+goes dahn, the rum and sugar boat goes dahn, but the perishin' quinine
+boat always gets 'ere."--_R. Ore (100 Brigade, R.F.A.), 40 Lansdowne
+Road, Tottenham, N.17._
+
+
+Blinkin' Descendant of Nebuchadnezzar
+
+While stationed at Pozières in 1917 I was mate to our Cockney cook,
+who, according to Army standards, was something of an expert in the
+culinary art.
+
+One day a brass hat from H.Q., who was visiting the unit, entered the
+mess to inquire about the food served to the troops.
+
+"They 'as stew, roast, or boiled, wiv spuds and pudden to follow," said
+cook, bursting with pride.
+
+"Do you give them any vegetables?" asked the officer.
+
+"No, sir, there ain't none issued in the rations."
+
+"No vegetables! What do you mean?--there are tons growing about here
+waiting to be picked. Look at all those dandelions--they make splendid
+greens. See that some are put in the stew to-morrow." With which
+illuminating information he retired.
+
+Followed a few moments' dead silence. Then the Cockney recovered from
+the shock.
+
+"Lumme, mate, what did 'e say? Dandelions? 'E must be a blinkin'
+descendant of Nebuchadnezzar!"--_R. J. Tiney (late Sapper, R.E.
+Signals, 10th Corps), 327 Green Lanes, Finsbury Park, N._
+
+
+Well-Cut Tailoring
+
+Back from a spell behind Ypres in 1915, a few of us decided to scrounge
+round for a hair-cut. We found a shop which we thought was a barber's,
+but it turned out to be a tailor's. We found out afterwards!
+
+[Illustration: "My old girl will swear I bin in fer a stretch...."]
+
+Still, the old Frenchman made a good job of it--just as though someone
+had shaved our heads. My Cockney pal, when he discovered the truth,
+exclaimed: "Strike, if I go 'ome like this my old girl will swear I bin
+in fer a stretch."--_F. G. Webb (late Corpl., Middlesex Regiment), 38
+Andover Road, Twickenham._
+
+
+Evacuating "Darby and Joan"
+
+Things were going badly with the town of Albert, and all day the
+inhabitants had been streaming from the town. On horse, on foot, and in
+all manner of conveyances they hastened onwards....
+
+Towards evening, when the bombardment was at its height and the roads
+were being plastered with shells, an old man tottered into sight
+pulling a crazy four-wheeled cart in which, perched amidst a pile of
+household goods, sat a tiny, withered lady of considerable age. As the
+couple reached the point where I was standing, the old man's strength
+gave out and he collapsed between the shafts.
+
+It seemed all up with them, as the guns were already registering on the
+only exit from the town when, thundering round a bend in the road, came
+a transport limber with driver and spare man. On seeing the plight of
+the old people, the driver pulled up, dismounted and, together with his
+partner, surveyed the situation.
+
+"What are we going to do with Darby and Joan?" asked the driver. "We
+can't get them and all their clobber in the limber and, if I know 'em,
+they won't be parted from their belongings."
+
+"'Ook 'em on the back," replied the spare man. Sure enough, the old man
+was lifted into the limber and the old lady's four-wheeler tied on the
+back.
+
+Off they went at the gallop, the old lady's conveyance dragging like
+a canoe in the wake of the _Mauretania_. The heroic Cockney driver,
+forcing his team through the din and debris of the bombardment, was
+now oblivious to the wails of distress; his mind was back on his duty;
+he had given the old people a chance of living a little longer--that
+was all he could do: and so he turned a deaf ear to the squeals and
+lamentations that each fresh jolt and swerve wrung from the terrified
+antiquity he was towing.
+
+Shells dropped all around them on their career through the town until
+it seemed that they must "go under." However, they appeared again
+and again, after each cloud cleared, and in the end I saw the little
+cavalcade out of the town and danger.--_N. E. Crawshaw (late 15th
+London Regt.), 4 Mapleton Road, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+"Why ain't the Band Playing?"
+
+I served with the 11th London Regiment in Palestine. One day our
+officer paid us a visit at dinner-time to find out if there were any
+complaints. While we were endeavouring to find the meat at the bottom
+of the spoilt water we heard a voice say: "Any complaints?" One of the
+platoon, not seeing the officer, thought the remark was a joke, so he
+replied, "Yes, why ain't the band playing?" On realising it was an
+official request he immediately corrected himself and said: "Sorry,
+sir, no complaints."
+
+I rather think the officer enjoyed the remark.--_F. G. Palmer, 29
+Dumbarton Road, Brixton, S.W.2._
+
+
+His Deduction
+
+Our battalion, fresh from home, all nicely groomed and with new kit,
+stepped out whistling "Tipperary." We were on the road to Loos.
+Presently towards us came a pathetic procession of wounded men
+struggling back, some using their rifles as crutches.
+
+Our whistling had ceased; some faces had paled. Not a word was spoken
+for quite a while, until my Cockney pal broke the silence, remarking,
+"Lumme, I reckon there's been a bit of a row somewhere."--_Charles
+Phillips (late Middlesex Regt.), 108 Grosvenor Road, Ilford._
+
+
+Peter in the Pool
+
+We had advanced beyond the German first line in the big push of '18.
+The rain was heavy, the mud was deep; we had not quite dug in beyond
+"shallow," and rations had not come up--altogether a most dismal
+prospect.
+
+Quite near to us was a small pool of water which we all attempted to
+avoid when passing to and fro. Suddenly there was a yell and much
+cursing--the Cockney of the company, complete with his equipment, had
+fallen into the pool.
+
+After recovering dry ground he gazed at the pool in disgust and said,
+"Fancy a fing like that trying to drahn a bloke wiv a name like
+Peter."--_J. Carlton, Bayswater Court, St. Stephen's Court, W.2._
+
+
+Where "Movie" Shows Cost Soap
+
+We landed in North Russia in June 1918. We were piloted in on the _City
+of Marseilles_ to a jetty. We did not know the name of the place. On
+the jetty we saw from the boat a British marine on sentry duty. We
+shouted down to him, "Where are we, mate?" He answered "Murmansk."
+
+We asked, "What sort of place," and he shouted, "Lumme, you've come to
+a blighted 'ole 'ere. They 'ave one picture palace and the price of
+admission is a bar of soap."--_M. C. Oliver (late Corporal R.A.F.), 99,
+Lealand Road, Stamford Hill, N.16._
+
+
+Sherlock Holmes in the Desert
+
+In the autumn of 1917, when training for the attack on Beersheba, in
+Palestine, we were encamped in bivouacs in the desert.
+
+The chief meal of the day was served in the cool of the evening and
+more often than not consisted of bully beef stew.
+
+One evening the Orderly Officer approached the dixie, looked into it,
+and seeing it half full of the usual concoction, remarked, "H'm, stew
+this evening."
+
+At once there came a voice, that of a Cockney tailor, from the nearest
+bivouac--"My dear Watson!"--_R. S. H. (late 16th County of London
+Q.W.R.), Purley, Surrey._
+
+
+The Army "Loops the Loop"
+
+The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was very bad, and if you went too
+close to the edge you were likely to go over the precipice; indeed,
+many lives were lost in this way.
+
+[Illustration: "I'll bet I'm the first bloke to loop the loop in a
+lorry."]
+
+One day a lorry toppled over and fell at least a hundred feet. When the
+rescuers got down to it, expecting to find a mangled corpse, they were
+surprised to hear a well-known Cockney voice from under the debris,
+exclaiming: "Blimey, I'll bet I'm the first bloke in the whole Army
+wot's looped the loop in a motor-lorry."--_Sidney H. Rothschild, York
+Buildings, Adelphi, W.C.2._
+
+
+Repartee on the Ridge
+
+While on the Vimy Ridge sector I was going one dark night across the
+valley towards the front line when I lost my way among the mud and
+shell-holes. Hearing voices, I shouted an inquiry as to the whereabouts
+of Gabriel Trench. Back came the reply: "Lummie, mate, I ain't the
+blinkin' harbourmaster!"--_T. Gillespie (late Mining Company, R.E.),
+London._
+
+
+A New Kind of "Missing"
+
+A battalion of the 47th London Division was making its first journey to
+the front line at Givenchy.
+
+As we were proceeding from Béthune by the La Bassée Canal we passed
+another crowd of the same Division who had just been relieved. We
+were naturally anxious to know what it was like "up there," and the
+following conversation took place in passing:
+
+"What's it like, mate?"
+
+"All right."
+
+"Had any casualties?"
+
+"Yes, mate, two wounded, and a bloke lost 'is 'at."--_F. G. Nawton,
+(ex-Major 15th Batt. M.G.C., 2 Kenton Park Road, Kenton, Middlesex)._
+
+
+And it Started with a Hen Raid!
+
+While we were behind the line in March 1918 some chickens were stolen
+from the next village and traced to our billet by the feathers.
+
+As the culprits could not be found our O.C. punished the whole company
+by stopping our leave for six months.
+
+A few days later we "moved up" just as Jerry broke through further
+south. The orderly sergeant one night read out orders, which finished
+up with Sir Douglas Haig's famous dispatch ending with the words:
+"All leave is now stopped throughout the Army till further orders."
+Thereupon a tousled head emerged from a blanket on the floor with this
+remark: "Blimey, they mean to find out who pinched those blinking
+chickens."--_J. Slack, 157 Engadine Street, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+"I'm a Water-Lily"
+
+This incident took place on the Neuve Chapelle front early in 1916.
+
+Our platoon was known as the "Divisional Drainers," for it was our job
+to keep the trenches as free from water as possible.
+
+One day, while we were working in a very exposed drain about three feet
+deep, Jerry was unusually active with his whizz-bangs, and we were
+repeatedly shelled off the job. During one of our periodical "dives"
+for cover, one of the boys (a native of Canning Town) happened to be
+"left at the post," and instead of gaining a dry shelter was forced to
+fling himself in the bottom of the drain, which had over two feet of
+weedy water in it.
+
+Just as he reappeared, with weeds and things clinging to his head and
+shoulders, an officer came to see if we were all safe.
+
+On seeing our weed-covered chum he stopped and said, "What's the
+matter, Johnson? Got the wind up?"
+
+Johnson, quick as lightning, replied, "No, sir; camouflage. I'm a
+water-lily."--_F. Falcuss (late 19th Batt. N.F.), 51, Croydon Grove,
+West Croydon._
+
+
+Not Knowin' the Language
+
+A team of mules in November 1916 was taking a double limber up to the
+line in pitch darkness on the Béthune-La Bassée road. A heavy strafe
+was on, and the road was heavily shelled at intervals from Beavry
+onwards.
+
+On the limber was a newly-joined padre huddled up, on his way to join
+advanced battalion headquarters. A shell burst 60 yards ahead, and the
+mules reared; some lay down, kicked over the traces, and the wheel pair
+managed to get their legs over the centre pole of the limber.
+
+[Illustration: "Would you mind trekkin' off up the road?"]
+
+There was chaos for a few minutes. Then the padre asked the wheel
+driver in a very small voice, "My man, can I do anything to assist you?"
+
+"Assist us," was the reply. "Yes, you can. Would you mind, sir,
+trekkin' off up the road, so as we can use language these blighters
+understand?"--_L. C. Hoffenden (late 483rd Field Co. R.E.),
+"Waltonhurst," 16 Elmgate Gardens, Edgware._
+
+
+Churning in the Skies
+
+After returning from a night's "egg-laying" on Jerry's transport lines
+and dumps, my brother "intrepid airman" and I decided on tea and toast.
+To melt a tin of ration butter which was of the consistency of glue
+we placed it close to the still hot engine of the plane. Unknown to
+us, owing to the slant of the machine, the tin slipped backwards and
+spilled a goodly proportion of its melted contents over the propeller
+at the back. (Our planes were of the "pusher" type.)
+
+Next day as we strolled into the hangar to look the bus over we found
+our Cockney mechanic, hands on hips, staring at the butter-splattered
+propeller.
+
+"Sufferin' smoke, sir," he said to me, with a twinkle, "wherever was
+you flyin' lars' night--_through the milky way_?"--_Ralph Plummer (late
+102 Squadron R.A.F. Night-Bombers), Granville House, Arundel Street,
+Strand._
+
+
+Larnin' the Mule
+
+[Illustration: "Now p'raps you'll know!"]
+
+On the Somme I saw a Cockney driver having trouble with an obstinate
+mule. At last he got down from his limber and, with a rather vicious
+tug at the near-side rein said, "That's your left," and, tugging the
+off rein, "that's your right--now p'raps you'll know!"--_E. B. (late
+Gunner, R.G.A.), Holloway Road, N.7._
+
+
+"Dr. Livingstone, I Presoom"
+
+Early in 1915 one of our Q.M. Sergeants was sent to Cairo to collect
+a gang of native labourers for work in the brigade lines. Whilst at
+breakfast one morning we saw him return from the train at Ismailia,
+leading a long column of fellaheen (with their wives and children) all
+loaded with huge bundles, boxes, cooking pots, etc., on their heads.
+
+The Q.M.S., who was wearing a big white "solar topi" of the mushroom
+type instead of his regulation military helmet, was greeted outside our
+hut by the R.S.M., and as they solemnly shook hands a Cockney voice
+behind me murmured: "Doctor Livingstone, I presoom?" The picture was
+complete!--_Yeo Blake (1st County of London Yeomanry), Brighton._
+
+
+The Veteran Scored
+
+One morning, while a famous general was travelling around the
+Divisional Headquarters, his eagle eye spotted an old war hero, a
+Londoner, whose fighting days were over, and who now belonged to the
+Labour Corps, busy on road repairs. The fact was also noticed that
+although within the gas danger-zone the old veteran had broken standing
+orders by not working with his gas mask in position.
+
+Accordingly the Corps Commander stopped his car and, getting out,
+started off in his own familiar way as follows:
+
+C. C.: Good morning, my man; do you know who is speaking to you?
+
+O. V.: No, sir!
+
+C. C.: I am your Corps Commander, Sir ----, etc.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I'm pleased to have this opportunity of talking to one of my men.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I see you are putting your back into your work.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I also notice that you have evidently left your gas mask behind.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: Now supposing, my man, a heavy gas cloud was now coming down
+this road towards you. What would you do?
+
+O. V. (after a few moments' pause): Nothing, sir.
+
+C. C.: What! Why not, my good man?
+
+O. V.: Because the wind is the wrong way, sir.
+
+Exit C. C.--_T. J. Gough, Oxford House, 13 Dorset Square, N.W.1._
+
+
+Old Moore Was Right
+
+One of my drivers, a Cockney, called one of his horses Old Moore--"'cos
+'e knows every blinkin' fing like _Old Moore's Almanac_."
+
+One evening, as we were going into the line, we were halted by a staff
+officer and warned of gas. Orders were given at once to wear gas
+helmets. (A nose-bag gas-mask had just been issued for horses.)
+
+After a while I made my way to the rear of the column to see how things
+were. I was puffing and gasping for breath, when a cheery voice called
+out, "Stick it, sargint."
+
+Wondering how any man could be so cheery in such circumstances, I
+lifted my gas helmet, and lo! there sat my Cockney driver, with his
+horses' masks slung over his arm and his own on top of his head like a
+cap-comforter.
+
+"Why aren't you wearing your gas helmet?" I asked.
+
+He leaned over the saddle and replied, in a confidential whisper, "Old
+Moore chucked his orf, so there ain't no blinkin' gas abaht--_'e_
+knows."
+
+We finished the rest of that journey in comfort. Old Moore had
+prophesied correctly.--_S. Harvey (late R.F.A.), 28 Belmont Park Road,
+Leyton, E.10_.
+
+
+He Wouldn't Insult the Mule
+
+One day, while our Field Ambulance was on the Dorian front, Salonika,
+our new colonel and the regimental sergeant-major were visiting the
+transport lines. They came across a Cockney assiduously grooming a pair
+of mules--rogues, both of them.
+
+[Illustration: "... because I didn't want to hurt his feelings."]
+
+Said the R.S.M.: "Well, Brown, what are the names of your mules?"
+
+Brown: "Well, that one is Ananias, because his looks are all lies. This
+one is Satan, but I nearly called him something else. It was a toss-up."
+
+With a smile at the C.O., the sergeant-major remarked: "I would like to
+know what the other name was. Tell the colonel, what was it?"
+
+Brown: "Well, I was going to call him 'Sergeant-Major,' but I didn't
+want to hurt his feelings."--_"Commo" (ex-Sergeant, R.A.M.C.), London,
+N.1_.
+
+
+"Don't Touch 'em, Sonny!"
+
+We had just come back from Passchendaele, that land of two options--you
+could walk on the duck boards and get blown off or you could step off
+them yourself and get drowned in the shell-holes.
+
+A draft from home had made us up to strength, and when Fritz treated
+us to an air raid about eight miles behind the line I am afraid he was
+almost ignored. Anyway, our Cockney sergeant was voicing the opinion
+that it wasn't a bad war when up rushed one recruit holding the chin
+strap of his tin hat and panting, "Aero--aero--aeroplanes." The
+sergeant looked at him for a second and said, "All right, sonny, don't
+touch 'em."
+
+A flush came to the youngster's face, and he walked away--a
+soldier.--_R. C. Ida, D.C.M. (late 2nd Royal Berks), 39 Hoylake Road,
+East Acton, W.3._
+
+
+"Ze English--Zey are all Mad!"
+
+Early in 1915 an Anti-Aircraft Brigade landed at Dunkirk. Their guns
+were mounted in armoured cars, the drivers for which were largely
+recruited from London busmen.
+
+By arrangement with the French staff it was decided that the password
+to enable the drivers to pass the French lines should be the French
+word _aviation_.
+
+The men were paraded and made to repeat this word, parrot fashion, with
+orders to be careful to use it, as it was said that French sentries had
+a nasty habit of shooting first and making any inquiries afterwards.
+
+About a month later I asked my lorry driver how he got on with the
+word. "Quite easy, sir," said he. "I leans aht over the dash and yells
+aht 'ave a ration,' and the Frenchies all larfs and lets me by."
+
+A bit worried about this I interviewed the French Staff Officer and
+asked him if the men were giving the word satisfactorily.
+
+"Oh," he said, "zose men of yours, zey are comique. Your man, he
+says somezing about his dinner, and ze ozzers zey say 'Ullo, Charlie
+Chaplin,' and 'Wotcher, froggy'--all sorts of pass-words."
+
+I apologised profusely. "I will get fresh orders issued," I said, "to
+ensure that the men say the correct word."
+
+"No," replied the French officer, "it ees no use. We know your men now.
+Ze English will never alter--_zey are all mad_."--_G. H. Littleton
+(Lieut.-Col.), 10 Russell Square Mansions, Southampton Row, W.C.1._
+
+
+Mixed History
+
+The Scene: Qurnah, Mesopotamia.
+
+Cockney Tommy--obviously an old Sunday school boy--fed up with Arabs,
+Turks, boils, scorpions, flies, thirst, and dust: "Well, if this is the
+Garden of Eden, no wonder the Twelve Apostles 'opped it!"--_G. T. C.,
+Hendon, N.W.4._
+
+
+Got His Goat!
+
+We, a Field Company of the R.E.'s in France, were on the move to a new
+sector, and amongst our "properties" was a mobile "dairy"--a goat.
+
+"Nanny" travelled on top of a trestle-wagon containing bridging gear,
+with a short rope attached to her collar to confine her activities. But
+a "pot-hole" in the narrow road supplied a lurch that dislodged her,
+with the result that she slid overboard, and the shortness of the rope
+prevented her from reaching the ground.
+
+[Illustration: "Nanny, you'll hang next time!"]
+
+The driver of the wagon behind saw her predicament, and, dismounting,
+ran to her assistance, shouting for the column to halt. Then he took
+Nanny in his arms to relieve the weight on her neck, whilst others
+clambered aboard and released the rope.
+
+Nanny was then put on her legs while her rescuer stood immediately in
+front, watching her recover.
+
+This she speedily did, and, raising her head for a moment, apparently
+discerned the cause of her discomfiture peering at her. At any rate,
+lowering her head, she sprang and caught Bermondsey Bill amidships,
+sending him backwards into a slimy ditch at the side of the road.
+
+As he lay there amidst the undergrowth he yelled, "Strike me pink,
+Nanny! You'll hang next time."--_E. Martin, 78 Chelverton Road, Putney,
+S.W.15._
+
+
+A Difficult Top Note
+
+Somewhere in Palestine the band of a famous London division had been
+called together for very much overdue practice. The overture "Poet and
+Peasant" called for a French horn solo ending on a difficult top note.
+
+After the soloist had made many attempts to get this note the
+bandmaster lost his temper and gave the player a piece of his mind.
+
+Looking at the battered instrument, which had been in France,
+the Balkans, and was now in the Wilderness, and was patched with
+sticking-plaster and soap, the soloist, who hailed from Mile End,
+replied: "Here, if you can do it better you have a go. I don't mind
+trying it on an _instrument_, but I'm darned if I can play it on a
+cullender."--_D. Beland, 17 Ridgdale Street, London, E.3._
+
+[Illustration: "... but I'm darned if I can play it on a cullender."]
+
+
+Home by Underground
+
+A cold, wet night in France. My company was making its way up a
+communication trench on the right of the Arras-Cambrin road. It was in
+some places waist deep in mud. I was in front next to my officer when
+the word was passed down that one of the men had fallen into the mud
+and could not be found. The officer sent me back to find out what had
+happened.
+
+On reaching the spot I found that the man had fallen into the mouth of
+a very deep dug-out which had not been used for some time.
+
+Peering into the blackness, I called out, "Where are you?"
+
+Back came the reply: "You get on wiv the blinkin' war. I've fahnd the
+Channel Tunnel and am going 'ome."
+
+I may say it took us six hours to get him out.--_H. F. B. (late 7th
+Batt. Middlesex Regt.), London, N.W.2._
+
+
+A Job for Samson
+
+During Allenby's big push in Palestine the men were on a forced night
+march, and were tired out and fed up. An officer was trying to buck
+some of them up by talking of the British successes in France and also
+of the places of interest they would see farther up in Palestine.
+
+He was telling them that they were now crossing the Plains of Hebron
+where Samson carried the gates of Gaza, when a deep Cockney voice rang
+out from the ranks, "What a pity that bloke ain't 'ere to carry this
+pack of mine!"--_C. W. Blowers, 25 Little Roke Avenue, Kenley, Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry Wins a Bet
+
+In the Salient, 1916: Alf, who owned a Crown and Anchor board of great
+antiquity, had it spread out on two petrol cans at the bottom of a
+shell-hole.
+
+Around it four of us squatted and began to deposit thereon our dirty
+half and one franc notes, with occasional coins of lesser value. The
+constant whistle of passing fragments was punctuated by the voice
+of Alf calling upon the company to "'ave a bit on the 'eart" or
+alternately "to 'ave a dig in the grave" when a spent bullet crashed
+on his tin hat and fell with a thud into the crown square. "'Struth,"
+gasped Alf, "old squarehead wants to back the sergeant-major." He
+gave a final shake to the cup and exposed the dice--one heart and two
+crowns. "Blimey," exclaimed Alf, "would yer blinkin' well believe it?
+Jerry's backed a winner. 'Arf a mo," and picking up the spent bullet
+he threw it with all his might towards the German lines, exclaiming,
+"'Ere's yer blinking bet back, Jerry, and 'ere's yer winnings."
+He cautiously fired two rounds.--_G. S. Raby (ex-2nd K.R.R.C.),
+Shoeburyness, Essex._
+
+
+Lucky he was Born British
+
+Many ex-soldiers must remember the famous Major Campbell, who
+(supported by the late Jimmy Driscoll), toured behind the lines in
+France giving realistic demonstrations of bayonet fighting.
+
+I was a spectator on one occasion when the Major was demonstrating
+"defence with the naked hands." "Now," he shouted as Jimmy Driscoll
+(who acted the German) rushed upon him with rifle and bayonet pointed
+for a thrust, "I side-step" (grasping his rifle at butt and upper band
+simultaneously); "I twist it to the horizontal and fetch my knee up
+into the pit of his stomach, so! And then, as his head comes down, I
+release my right hand, point my fore and third fingers, so! and stab at
+his eyes."
+
+"Lor'!" gasped a little Cockney platoon chum squatting beside me, "did
+yer see that lot? Wot a nice kind of bloke he is! Wot a blinkin' stroke
+of luck he was born on our side!"--_S. J. Wilson (late 1/20th County
+London Regt.), 27 Cressingham Road, Lewisham._
+
+
+You Never Can Tell
+
+Scene: Turk trench, Somme, on a cold, soaking night in November,
+1916. A working party, complete with rifles, picks, and spades, which
+continually became entangled in the cats' cradle of miscellaneous R.E.
+wire, is making terribly slow progress over irregular trench-boards
+hidden under mud and water. Brisk strafing ahead promising trouble.
+
+Impatient officer (up on the parapet): "For heaven's sake, you lads,
+get a move on! You're not going to a funeral!"
+
+Cockney voice (from bottom of trench): "'Ow the dooce does _'e_
+know!"--_W. Ridsdale, 41 Manor Road, Beckenham, Kent._
+
+
+The Window Gazer
+
+In the early part of 1915, when the box periscope was in great use in
+the trenches, we received a draft of young recruits. One lad, of a
+rather inquisitive nature, was always looking in the glass trying to
+find Jerry's whereabouts.
+
+An old Cockney, passing up and down, had seen this lad peeping in the
+glass. At last he stopped and addressed the lad as follows:
+
+"You've been a-looking in that bloomin' winder all the die, an' nah yer
+ain't bought nuffink."--_E. R. Gibson (late Middlesex Regt.), 42 Maldon
+Road, Edmonton, N.9._
+
+
+"I Don't Fink"
+
+After we landed in France our officer gave us a lecture and told us
+that our best pal in this world was our rifle. He warned us that on no
+account must we part with it. A couple of nights later Gunner Brown,
+a Cockney, was on guard. When the visiting officer approached him and
+said, "Your rifle is dirty, gunner," he replied, "I don't fink so
+sir, 'cos I cleaned it." "Give it to me," said the officer sternly,
+which Brown did. Then the officer said, "You fool, if I were an enemy
+in English uniform I could shoot you." To which Brown replied, "I
+don't fink you could, sir, 'cos I've got the blinkin' bolt in my
+pocket."--_E. W. Houser (late 41st Division, R.F.A.) 22 Hamlet Road,
+Southend._
+
+
+Why the Attack _Must_ Fail
+
+November 1918. The next day we were to move up in readiness for the
+great advance of the 3rd Army.
+
+Some of us were trying to sleep in a cellar when the silence was broken
+by a small voice: "I'm sure this attack will go wrong, you chaps! I
+feel it in my bones!"
+
+It can be imagined how this cheerful remark was received, but when the
+abuse had died down, the same voice was heard again: "Yes, I knows
+it. Some blighter will step orf wi' the wrong foot and we'll all
+'ave to come back and start again!"--_"D" Coy., M.G.C. (24th Batt.),
+Westcliff._
+
+
+The "Shovers"
+
+During the retreat of 1918 I was standing with my company on the side
+of the road by Outersteene Farm, outside Bailleul, when three very
+small and youthful German Tommies with helmets four sizes too large
+passed on their way down the line as prisoners for interrogation. As
+they reached us I heard one of my men say to another: "Luv us, 'Arry,
+look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"--_L. H. B., Beckenham._
+
+[Illustration: "Luv us, 'Arry; look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"]
+
+
+Rehearsal--Without the Villain
+
+A small party with a subaltern were withdrawn from the line to rehearse
+a raid on the German line. A replica of the German trenches had been
+made from aircraft photographs, and these, with our own trench and
+intervening wire, were faithfully reproduced, even to shell-holes.
+
+The rehearsal went off wonderfully. The wire was cut, the German
+trenches were entered, and dummy bombs thrown down the dug-outs.
+
+Back we came to our own trenches. "Everything was done excellently,
+men," said the subaltern, "but I should like to be sure that every
+difficulty has been allowed for. Can any man think of any point which
+we have overlooked?"
+
+"Yus," came the terse reply--"Jerry."--_Edward Nolan (15th London
+Regt.), 41 Dalmeny Avenue, S.W.16._
+
+
+Poetry Before the Push
+
+During February and March 1918 the 1/13th Battalion London Regiment
+(the Kensingtons), who were at Vimy Ridge, had been standing-to in the
+mornings for much longer than the regulation hour because of the coming
+big German attack. One company commander--a very cheery officer--was
+tired of the general "wind up" and determined to pull the legs of the
+officers at Battalion H.Q. It was his duty to send in situation reports
+several times a day. To vary things he wrote a situation report in
+verse, sent it over the wire to B.H.Q., where, of course, it was taken
+down in prose and read with complete consternation by the C.O. and
+adjutant!
+
+It showed the gay spirit which meant so much in the front line at a
+time when everyone's nerves were on edge. It was written less than two
+days before the German offensive of March 21. Here are the verses:
+
+    (_C Company Situation Report 19/3/18_)
+
+    There is nothing I can tell you
+      That you really do not know--
+    Except that we are on the Ridge
+      And Fritz is down below.
+
+    I'm tired of "situations"
+      And of "wind" entirely "vane."
+    The gas-guard yawns and tells me
+      "It's blowing up for rain."
+
+    He's a human little fellow.
+      With a thoughtful point of view,
+    And his report (uncensored)
+      I pass, please, on to you.
+
+    "When's old Fritzie coming over?
+      Does the General really know?
+    The Colonel seems to think so,
+      The Captain tells us 'No.'
+
+    "When's someone going to tell us
+      We can 'Stand-to' as before?
+    An hour at dawn and one at dusk,
+      Lor' blimey, who wants more?"
+
+The word "vane" in the second verse refers, of course, to the
+weather-vane used in the trenches to indicate whether the wind was
+favourable or not for a gas attack.--_Frederick Heath (Major), 1/13th
+Batt. London Regt. (Kensingtons)._
+
+
+'Erb's Consolation Prize
+
+A narrow communication trench leading up to the front line; rain, mud,
+shells, and everything else to make life hideous.
+
+Enter the ration party, each man carrying something bulky besides his
+rifle and kit.
+
+One of the party, a Londoner known as 'Erb, is struggling with a huge
+mail-bag, bumping and slipping and sliding, moaning and swearing,
+when a voice from under a sack of bread pipes: "Never mind, 'Erb;
+perhaps there's a postcard in it for you!"--_L. G. Austin (24th London
+Regiment), 8 Almeida Street, Upper Street, Islington, N.1._
+
+[Illustration: "Never mind, 'Erb, perhaps there's a postcard in it for
+you!"]
+
+
+Rum for Sore Feet
+
+Whilst doing duty as acting Q.M.S. I was awakened one night by a loud
+banging on the door of the shack which was used as the stores. Without
+getting up I asked the reason for the noise, and was told that a pair
+of boots I had issued that day were odd--one was smaller than the
+other. The wearer was on stable piquet, and could hardly walk.
+
+I told him he would have to put up with it till the morning--I wasn't
+up all night changing boots, and no doubt I should have a few words to
+say when I did see him!
+
+"Orl right, Quarter," came the reply, "I'm sorry I woke yer--but could
+yer give us a tot of rum to stop the pain?"--_P. K. (late 183rd Batt.
+41st Div. R.F.A.), Kilburn, N.W.6._
+
+
+Two Guineas' Worth
+
+In France during November 1914 I received an abrupt reminder that
+soldiering with the Honourable Artillery Company entails an annual
+subscription.
+
+The battalion had marched out during the night to a small village named
+Croix Barbée to carry out some operation, and returned at daybreak to
+its "lodging" near La Couture, another village some four or five miles
+away.
+
+Being a signaller, I had the doubtful privilege of owning a bicycle,
+which had to be pushed or carried every inch of the way. On the march
+back the mud was so bad that it was impossible for me to keep up with
+the battalion, owing to the necessity every quarter of a mile or so of
+cleaning out the mudguards.
+
+I was plodding along all by myself in the early hours of daylight, very
+tired of the bike and everything else, and I approached an old soldier
+of the Middlesex Regiment sitting by the roadside recovering slowly
+from the strain of the fatiguing night march.
+
+He looked at me and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Well, mate, 'ad
+yer two guineas wurf yet?"--_J. H. May, Ravenswood, Ashford, Middlesex._
+
+
+The Four-footed Spy
+
+Whilst we were at Arras a horse was found entangled in some barbed
+wire, having presumably strayed from the German lines. He was captured
+by a rifleman and brought back to the horse lines to be used by the
+transport driver.
+
+A Cockney groom was detailed to look after him. The two never seemed to
+agree, for the groom was always being bitten or kicked by "Jerry."
+
+One morning the picket discovered that "Jerry" was missing, and
+concluded that he must have broken away during the night. The matter
+was reported to the sergeant, who went and routed out the groom. "What
+about it? Ain't you goin' to look for 'im?" said the sergeant.
+
+"Not me, sarge! I always said the blighter was a blinkin' spy!" replied
+the groom.--_J. Musgrave (late 175th Infantry Brigade), 52 Cedar Grove,
+South Ealing, W.5._
+
+
+Not Every Dog has his Night
+
+Our battalion arrived in a French village late on the night of
+September 25, 1915, after marching all day in pouring rain. To add to
+our troubles no billets were available (the place was teeming with
+reserve troops for the attack at Loos).
+
+We were told to find some sort of shelter from the rain and get a good
+night's rest, as we were to move up to the attack on the morrow.
+
+My chum, a Londoner, and I scouted round. I found room for one in an
+already overcrowded stable; my chum continued the search. He returned
+in a few minutes to tell me he had found a spot. I wished him good
+night and went to sleep.
+
+In the morning, when I came out of the stable, I saw the long legs of
+a Guardsman (who proved to be my chum) protruding from a dog kennel.
+Beside them sat a very fed-up dog!--_F. Martin (late 1st Batt. Scots
+Guards), 91 Mostyn Road, Brixton, S.W._
+
+[Illustration: "...A very fed-up dog."]
+
+
+The Brigadier's Glass Eye
+
+A brigadier of the 54th Infantry Brigade (18th Division), who had a
+glass-eye, and his Cockney runner, were on their way up the line when
+they observed a dead German officer who had a very prominent gold tooth.
+
+The next day, passing by the same spot, the Brigadier noticed that the
+gold tooth was missing.
+
+"I see that his gold tooth has gone, Johnson," he said.
+
+"Yessir."
+
+"I suppose someone will take my glass eye, if I am knocked out."
+
+"Yessir. I've put meself dahn fer that, fer a souvenir!"--_W. T.
+Pearce, "Southernhay," Bethune Avenue, Friern Barnet, N.11._
+
+
+The Chaplain-General's Story
+
+In June 1917 I shared a G.H.Q. car with the Chaplain-General to the
+Forces, Bishop Gwynne, who was on his way from St. Omer to Amiens,
+whilst I was on my way to the Third Army School at Auxi-le-Château.
+
+During the journey our conversation turned to chaplains, and the bishop
+asked me whether I thought the chaplains then coming to France were of
+the right type, especially from the point of view of the regimental
+officers and men. My reply was that the chaplains as a whole differed
+very little from any other body of men in France: they were either men
+of the world and very human, and so got on splendidly with the troops,
+or else they were neither the one nor the other, cut very little ice,
+and found their task a very difficult one.
+
+The Bishop then told me the following story, which he described as
+perfectly true:
+
+    "A chaplain attached to a London regiment made a practice
+    of always living in the front line whenever the battalion
+    went in to the trenches rather than remaining with Battalion
+    Headquarters some way back, and he had his own dug-out over
+    which appeared the words 'The Vicarage.'
+
+    "One day a young Cockney in the line for the first time was
+    walking along the trench with an older soldier, and turning a
+    corner suddenly came on 'The Vicarage.'
+
+    "'Gorblimey, Bill!' he said, 'who'd 'ave fought of seein' the
+    b---- vicarage in the front line?'"
+
+    "Immediately the cheery face of the padre popped out from
+    behind the blanket covering the entrance and a voice in reply
+    said: 'Yes! And who'd have thought of seeing the b---- vicar
+    too?'"
+
+"That's the kind of chaplain," said the Bishop, "I'm trying to get them
+to send out to France."--_(Brig.-Gen.) R. J. Kentish, C.M.G., D.S.O.,
+Shalford Park, Guildford._
+
+
+A Thirst Worth Saving
+
+During the summer of 1917 our battalion--the 1/5th Buffs--formed part
+of General Thompson's flying column operating between the Tigris and
+the Shatt Al-'Adhaim.
+
+One morning we discovered that the native camel drivers had deserted to
+the enemy's lines, taking with them the camels that were carrying our
+water.
+
+No man had more than a small cup of water in his bottle yet we waited
+orders until dawn the next day, when a 'plane dropped a message for us
+to return to the Tigris.
+
+I shall not dwell on that 20-mile march back to the river over the
+burning sand--I cannot remember the last few miles of it myself. None
+of us could speak. Our lips and tongues were bursting.
+
+When we reached the Tigris we drank and drank again--then lay exhausted.
+
+The first man I heard speak was "Busty" Johnson, who, with great effort
+hoarsely muttered: "Lumme, if I can only keep this blinkin' first till
+I goes on furlough!"--_J. W. Harvey (late 1/5th Buffs, M.E.F.), 25
+Queen's Avenue, Greenford Park, Middlesex._
+
+
+Points of View
+
+On a wet and cold winter's night in the hills south of Nablus
+(Palestine) a sentry heard sounds as of slipping feet and strange
+guttural noises from the direction of the front line. He waited with
+his rifle at the port and then challenged: "Halt! who goes there?"
+
+A thin, dismal voice came from the darkness. "A pore miserable blighter
+with five ruddy camels."
+
+"Pass, miserable blighter, all's well," replied the sentry.
+
+Into the sentry's view came a rain-soaked disconsolate-looking Tommy
+"towing" five huge ration camels.
+
+"All's well, is it? Coo! Not 'arf!" said he.--_W. E. Bickmore (late "C"
+303 Brigade, R.F.A., 60th Div.), 121 Gouville Road, Thornton Heath,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Not the British Museum
+
+The Labyrinth Sector.
+
+Three of us--signallers--having just come off duty in the front line,
+were preparing to put in a few hours' sleep, when a voice came floating
+down the dug-out steps: "Is Corporal Stone down there?"
+
+Chorus: "No!"
+
+Ten minutes later came the same voice: "Is Sergeant Fossell down there?"
+
+"Go away," replied our Cockney; "this ain't the blinkin' British
+Museum!"--_G. J. Morrison (late 14th London Regt.), "Alness," Colborne
+Way, Worcester Park, Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry Would Not Smile
+
+I met him coming from the front line, one of "London's Own." He was
+taking back the most miserable and sullen-looking prisoner I have ever
+seen.
+
+"Got a light, Jock?" he asked me. I obliged. "'Ave a Ruby Queen,
+matey?" I accepted.
+
+"Cheerful-looking customer you've got there, Fusie," I ventured,
+pointing to his prisoner.
+
+[Illustration: "... and if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's
+'opeless."]
+
+He looked up in disgust. "Cheerful? Lummie, he gives me the creeps.
+I've orfered 'im a fag, and played 'Katie' and 'When this luvly war is
+over' on me old mouf orgin for him, but not a bloomin' smile. An' I've
+shown him me souvenirs and a photograph of me old woman, and, blimey,
+if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's 'opeless!"
+
+And then, with a cheery "Mercy bokoo, matey," and a "Come on, 'Appy,"
+to his charge, he pushed on.--_Charles Sumner (late London Scottish),
+Butler's Cottage, Sutton Lane, Heston, Middlesex._
+
+
+"Birdie" Had to Smile
+
+While I was serving with the Australians at Gallipoli in 1915 I was
+detailed to take charge of a fatigue party to carry water from the
+beach to the front line, a distance of about a mile.
+
+Our way lay over rather dangerous and extremely hilly country. The
+weather was very hot. Each man in the party had to carry four petrol
+tins of water.
+
+While trudging along a narrow communication trench we were confronted
+by General Birdwood and his A.D.C. As was the general's cheery way, he
+stopped, and to the man in front (one "Stumpy" Stewart, a Cockney who
+had been in Australia for some time) he remarked, "Well, my man, how do
+you like this place?"
+
+"Stumpy" shot a quick glance at the general and then blurted out,
+"Well, sir, 't'aint the sort of plice you'd bring your Jane to, is it?"
+
+I can see "Birdie's" smile now.--_C. Barrett (Lieut., Aust. Flying
+Corps, then 6th Aust. Light Horse), Charing Cross, W.C._
+
+
+Their Very Own Secret
+
+We were on a forced march to a sector on Vimy Ridge. It was a wicked
+night--rain and thick fog--and during a halt several of our men got
+lost. I was ordered to round them up, but I also got hopelessly lost.
+
+I had been wandering about for some time when I came across one of our
+men--a young fellow from the Borough. We had both lost direction and
+could do nothing but wait.
+
+At last dawn broke and the fog lifted. We had not the slightest idea
+where we were, so I told my friend to reconnoitre a hill on the right
+and report to me if he saw anyone moving, while I did the same on the
+left.
+
+After a while I heard a cautious shout, and my companion came running
+towards me, breathless with excitement, and in great delight gasped,
+"Sergeant, sergeant! Germans! Germans! Fousands of 'em--and there's
+nobody but you and me knows anyfing abaht it!"--_G. Lidsell (late Devon
+Regt.), Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+Window Cleaners Coming!
+
+We were passing through Ypres, in 1915, in a Wolseley Signals tender
+when we came upon a battalion of the Middlesex on their way out to
+rest, very tired and very dirty.
+
+Our cable cart ladders, strapped to the sides of the lorry, caught the
+eyes of one wag. "Blimey, boys," he cried, "we're orl right nah; 'ere
+comes the blinkin' winder-cleaners."--_"Sigs.," Haslemere, Surrey._
+
+
+First Blow
+
+It was outside Albert, during the Somme attack, that I met a lone
+Army Service Corps wagon, laden with supplies. One of the horses was
+jibbing, and the driver, a diminutive Cockney, was at its head, urging
+it forward. As I approached I saw him deliberately kick the horse in
+the flank.
+
+I went up to the man and, taking out notebook and pencil, asked him for
+his name, number, and unit, at the same time remonstrating with him
+severely.
+
+"I wasn't doin' 'im no 'arm," pleaded the man; "I've only got my
+gum-boots on, and, besides, 'e kicked me first."
+
+[Illustration: "An' besides, he kicked me first."]
+
+I tore up my entry, mounted my motor-cycle, and left an injured-looking
+driver rubbing a sore shin.--_R. D. Blackman (Capt., R.A.F.), 118 Abbey
+Road, St. John's Wood, N.W.6._
+
+
+M.M. (Mounted Marine)
+
+After riding for several hours one wet, windy, and miserable night,
+with everyone soaked to the skin and fed up generally, we were halted
+in a field which, owing to the heavy rain, was more like a lake.
+
+On receiving the order to dismount and loosen girths, one of our number
+remained mounted and was busy flashing a small torch on the water
+when the sergeant, not too gently, inquired, "Why the dickens are
+you still mounted, and what the deuce are you looking for anyway?" To
+which a Cockney voice replied, "Blimey, sergeant, where's the landing
+stage?"--_"Jimmy" (late Essex Yeomanry)._
+
+
+His German 'Arp
+
+Having been relieved, after our advance at Loos in 1915, we were making
+our way back at night.
+
+We had to pass through the German barbed wire, which had tins tied to
+it so that it rattled if anyone tried to pass it.
+
+Our sergeant got entangled in it and caused a lot of noise, whereupon a
+Cockney said: "You're orl right on the old banjo, sergeant, but when it
+comes to the German 'arp you're a blinkin' washaht."--_W. Barnes, M.M.
+(late 1st Bn. K.R.R.C.), 63 Streatfeild Avenue, East Ham._
+
+[Illustration: "When it comes to the German 'arp you're a washaht."]
+
+
+Jack went a-Riding
+
+Early in 1916 we were on outpost duty at a place called Ayun Musa,
+about four miles east of Suez.
+
+One day a British monitor arrived in the Gulf of Suez, and we were
+invited to spend an hour on board as the sailors' guests. The next day
+the sailors came ashore and were our guests.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't ask me--ask the blinkin' 'oss."]
+
+After seeing the canteen most of them were anxious for a ride on a
+horse. So we saddled a few horses and helped our guests to mount. Every
+horse chose a different direction in the desert.
+
+One of the sailors was a Cockney. He picked a fairly fresh mount, which
+soon "got away" with him. He lost his reins and hung round the animal's
+neck for dear life as it went at full gallop right through the Camp
+Commandant's quarters.
+
+Hearing the commotion, the Commandant put his head out of his bivouac
+and shouted, "What the dickens do you mean galloping through here?"
+
+Back came the retort, "Don't ask me--ask the blinkin' 'oss."--_H. F.
+Montgomery (late H.A.C.), 33 Cavenham Gardens, Ilford._
+
+
+Bitter Memories
+
+During an attack near Beer-Sheba, Palestine, our regiment had been
+without water for over twenty-four hours. We were suffering very badly,
+as the heat was intense. Most of us had swollen tongues and lips and
+were hardly able to speak, but the company humorist, a Cockney, was
+able to mutter, "Don't it make you mad to fink of the times you left
+the barf tap running?"--_H. Owen (late Queen's Royal West Surrey
+Regt.), 18 Edgwarebury Gardens, Edgware, Middlesex._
+
+
+Tommy "Surrounded" Them
+
+It was in July 1916. The Somme Battle had just begun. The troops in
+front of us had gone over the top and were pushing forward. We were in
+support and had just taken over the old front line.
+
+Just on our right was a road leading up and through the German lines.
+Looking up this road we saw a small squad strolling towards us. It
+was composed of four Germans under the care of a London Tommy who was
+strolling along, with his rifle under his arm, like a gamekeeper. It
+made quite a nice picture.
+
+When they reached us one of our young officers shouted out: "Are you
+looking for the hounds?"
+
+Then the Cockney started: "Blimey, I don't know abaht looking for
+'ounds. I got four of 'em 'ere--and now I got 'em I don't know where to
+dump 'em."
+
+The officer said: "Where did you find them?"
+
+"I surrounded 'em, sir," was the reply.
+
+Our officer said: "You had better leave them here for the time being."
+
+"Right-o, sir," replied the Cockney. "You hang on to 'em until I come
+back. I'm going up the road to get some more. There's fahsends of 'em
+up there."--_R. G. Williams, 30 Dean Cottages, Hanworth Road, Hampton,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+Shell-holes and Southend
+
+My pal (a Battersea boy) and I were two of a draft in 1916 transferred
+from the K.R.R.s to the R.I.R.s. On the first night in the trenches we
+were detailed for listening post. My pal said: "That's good. I'll be
+able to tell father what No Man's Land is like, as he asked me."
+
+After we had spent what was to me a nerve-wracking experience in
+the mud of a shell-hole, I asked him what he was going to tell his
+father. He said: "It's like Southend at low tide on the fifth of
+November."--_F. Tuohey (late 14th Batt. R.I.R.), 31 Winchester Road,
+Edmonton._
+
+
+"Make Me a Good 'Orse"
+
+Having come out of action, we lay behind the line waiting for
+reinforcements of men and horses. The horses arrived, and I went out to
+see what they were like.
+
+I was surprised to see a Cockney, who was a good groom, having trouble
+in grooming one of the new horses. Every time he put the brush between
+its forelegs the animal went down on its knees.
+
+[Illustration: "Gawd bless farver an' make me a good 'orse."]
+
+At last in desperation the Cockney stepped back, and gazing at the
+horse still on its knees, said: "Go on, yer long-faced blighter. 'Gawd
+bless muvver. Gawd bless farver, an' make me a good 'orse.'"--_Charles
+Gibbons (late 3rd Cavalry Brigade), 131 Grove Street, Deptford, S.E.8._
+
+
+The Lost Gumboot
+
+An N.C.O. in the Engineers, I was guiding a party of about seventy
+Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regt.) through a trench system between
+Cambrin, near Loos, and the front line. About half-way the trenches
+were in many places knee-deep in mud. It was about 2 a.m. and shelling
+made things far from pleasant. Then word came up that we had lost touch
+with the tail-end of the party, and a halt was called, most of us
+standing in mud two feet deep.
+
+The officer in charge sent a message back asking why the tail-end had
+failed to keep up. The reply came back in due course: "Man lost his
+gumboot in the mud." The officer, becoming annoyed at the delay, sent
+back the message: "Who's the fool who lost his gumboot?"
+
+I heard the message receding into the distance with the words "fool"
+"gumboot" preceded by increasingly lurid adjectives. In about three or
+four minutes I heard the answer being passed up, getting louder and
+louder: "Charlie Chaplin," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN." Even
+our sorely-tried officer had to laugh.--_P. Higson, Lancashire._
+
+
+"Compree 'Sloshy'?"
+
+During one of the Passchendaele advances in 1917 my battery was
+situated astride a board roadway leading over the ridge. After this
+particular show was over I happened to be in the telephone dug-out when
+prisoners started coming back.
+
+One weary little lance-jack in a London regiment arrived in charge
+of an enormous, spectacled, solemn-looking Fritz. As he reached the
+battery position he paused to rest and look at the guns.
+
+Leaning against the side of the dug-out he produced a cigarette end
+and, lighting it, proceeded to make conversation with his charge which,
+being out of sight, I was privileged to overhear.
+
+"Ain't 'arf blinkin' sloshy 'ere, ain't it, Fritz? Compree sloshy?" No
+reply.
+
+He tried again. "Got a cushy job these 'ere artillery blokes, ain't
+they? Compree cushy?" Still no answer.
+
+He made a third attempt. "S'pose you're abart fed up with this blinkin'
+guerre. Compree guerre?" Again the stony, uncomprehending silence; and
+then:
+
+"Garn, yer don't know nuffink, yer don't, yer ignorant blighter. Say
+another blinkin' word and I'll knock yer blinkin' block orf."--_A. E.
+Joyce (late R.F.A.), Swallowcroft, Broxbourne Road, Orpington, Kent._
+
+
+Looking-Glass Luck
+
+During the second battle of Ypres, in May 1915, I was attached to the
+1st Cavalry Brigade, and after a terrific strafing from Fritz there was
+a brief lull, which gave us a chance for a "wash and brush up."
+
+While we were indulging in the luxury of a shave, a Cockney trooper
+dropped his bit of looking-glass.
+
+Seeing that it was broken I casually remarked, "Bad luck for seven
+years." And the reply I got was, "If I live seven years to 'ave bad
+luck it'll be blinking good luck."--_J. Tucker, 46 Langton Road,
+Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Mine that was His
+
+Just before our big push in August 1918 we were resting in "Tank Wood."
+The place was dotted with shell holes, one of which was filled with
+rather clean water, evidently from a nearby spring. A board at the edge
+of this hole bore the word "MINE," so we gave it a wide berth.
+
+Imagine our surprise when later we saw "Tich," a lad from the Old Kent
+Road, bathing in the water. One of our men yelled, "Hi, Tich, carn't
+yer read?"
+
+"Yus," replied "Tich," "don't yer fink a bloke can read 'is own
+writing?"--_Walter F. Brooks (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 141 Cavendish
+Road, Highams Park, E.4._
+
+
+"Geography" Hour
+
+Just before going over the top a private, wishing to appear as cheerful
+as possible, turned to his platoon sergeant and said: "I suppose we
+will be making history in a few minutes, sergeant?"
+
+"No," replied the sergeant: "our first objective is about 250 yards
+straight to the front. What you have to do is to get from here to there
+as quickly as your legs will carry you. We are making geography this
+morning, my lad!"--_"Arras," London, S.W.1._
+
+
+To the General, About the Colonel
+
+The colonel of the regiment, gifted with the resonant voice of a
+dare-devil leader, was highly esteemed for his rigid sense of duty,
+especially in the presence of the enemy.
+
+The Germans had been troubling us a lot with gas, and this kept
+everyone on the _qui vive_.
+
+Accompanied by the colonel, the divisional commander was making his
+usual inspection of the front line intent on the alertness of sentries.
+
+In one fire-bay the colonel stopped to give instructions regarding a
+ventilating machine which had been used to keep the trench clear of gas
+after each attack.
+
+Meanwhile the general moved on towards the other end of the fire-bay,
+where the sentry, fresh out from the reserve battalion recruited in
+Bermondsey, stood with his eyes glued to the periscope.
+
+A natural impulse of the general as he noticed the weather-vane on the
+parapet was to test the sentry's intelligence on "gas attack by the
+enemy," so as he approached the soldier he addressed him in a genial
+and confiding manner: "Well, my lad, and how's the wind blowing this
+morning?"
+
+Welcoming a little respite, as he thought, from periscope strain,
+by way of a short "chin-wag" with one or other of his pals, the
+unsuspecting sentry rubbed his hands gleefully together as he turned
+round with the reply: "'Taint 'arf so dusty arter all." Then, suddenly
+through the corner of his eye he caught sight of his colonel at the
+other end of the fire-bay. His face instantly changed its cheerful
+aspect as he breathlessly whispered to his inquirer, "Lumme, the
+ole man! 'Ere, mate, buzz orf quick--a-a-an' don't let 'im cop yer
+a-talkin' to the sentry on dooty, or Jerry's barrage will be a washaht
+when the Big Noise starts _'is_ fireworks!"--_William St. John Spencer
+(late East Surrey Regiment), "Roydsmoor," Arneson Road, East Molesey,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Bow Bells--1917 Style
+
+We were going up the line at Bullecourt in April 1917. I have rather
+bad eyesight and my glasses had been smashed. Being the last of the
+file I lost touch with the others and had no idea where I was. However,
+I stumbled on, and eventually reached the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "Take those bells orf."]
+
+Upon the ground were some empty petrol cans tied up ready to be taken
+down to be filled with water. I tripped up amongst these and created
+an awful din, whereupon an angry voice came from out the gloom.--"I
+don't know 'oo or wot the dickens you are, but for 'eaven's sake take
+those bells orf!"--_W. G. Root (late 12th London Regt.), 24 Harrington
+Square, N.W.1._
+
+
+"The Awfentic Gramerphone!"
+
+This happened on that wicked March 21, 1918.
+
+During a lull in the scrapping, a lone German wandered too near, and we
+collared him. He was handed over to Alf, our Cockney cookie.
+
+Things got blacker for us. We could see Germans strung out in front of
+us and on both flanks--Germans and machine guns everywhere.
+
+"Well, boys," said our major, "looks as if it's all up with us, doesn't
+it?"
+
+"There's this abaht it, sir," said Alf, pointing to his prisoner; "when
+it comes to chuckin' our 'ands in, we've got the awfentic gramerphone
+to yell 'Kamerad!'--ain't we?"--_C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+The Muffin Man
+
+Two companies of a London regiment were relieving each other on a quiet
+part of the line, late in the evening of a dismal sort of day. The
+members of the ingoing company were carrying sheets of corrugated iron
+on their heads for the purpose of strengthening their position.
+
+A member of the outgoing company, observing a pal of his with one of
+these sheets on his head, bawled out: "'Ullo, 'Arry, what'cher doing
+of?" to which came the laconic reply: "Selling muffins, but I've lost
+me blinkin' bell."--_H. O. Harries, 85 Seymour Road, Harringay, N.8._
+
+
+The Holiday Resort
+
+Early in October 1915 a half company of the 3rd Middlesex Regiment
+occupied a front-line sector at Givenchy, known as the "Duck's Bill,"
+which ran into the German line.
+
+In spite of our proximity to the enemy our chief annoyance was
+occasional sniping, machine gunning, rifle grenades, and liquid fire,
+for the area had been given over mainly to mining and counter-mining.
+
+It was expected that the "Duck's Bill" would "go up" at any moment, so
+it was decided to leave only one officer in charge, with instructions
+to keep every available man engaged either in furiously tunnelling
+towards the enemy to counter their efforts, or in repairing our
+breast-works, which had been seriously damaged in a German attack.
+
+My men worked like Trojans on a most tiring, muddy, and gruesome task.
+
+At last we were relieved by the Leicestershire Regiment, and one of
+my men, on being asked by his Leicester relief what the place was
+like, replied: "Well, 'ow d'yer spend yer 'olidies, in the country
+or at the seaside? 'Cos yer gits both 'ere as yer pleases: rabbit
+'unting (pointing to the tunnelling process) and sand castle building
+(indicating the breastwork repairs), wiv fireworks in the evening."
+
+The Leicesters, alas! "went up" that evening.--_S. H. Flood (late
+Middlesex Regiment and M.G.C.), "Prestonville," Maidstone Road,
+Chatham, Kent._
+
+
+The "Tich" Touch
+
+We had survived the landing operations at Murmansk, in North Russia,
+and each company had received a number of sets of skis, which are very
+awkward things to manage until you get used to them.
+
+On one occasion when we were practising, a "son of London," after
+repeated tumbles, remarked to his pals, who were also getting some "ups
+and downs": "Fancy seein' me dahn Poplar way wiv these fings on; my
+little old bunch of trouble would say, 'What's 'e trying ter do nah?
+Cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance?'"--_C. H. Mitchell (late
+Staff-Sergt. A.S.C.), 7 Kingsholm Gardens, Eltham, S.E.9._
+
+[Illustration: "Trying to cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance."]
+
+
+Smart Men All
+
+One of the usual orders had come through to my battalion of the
+Middlesex Regiment for a number of men to be detailed for extra
+regimental duties which would be likely to take them away from the
+battalion for a considerable time. The company I commanded had to
+provide twenty men.
+
+It was a golden opportunity to make a selection of those men whose
+physical infirmities were more evident than the stoutness of their
+hearts. Together with my company sergeant-major I compiled a list of
+those who could best be spared from the trenches, and the following day
+they were paraded for inspection before moving off.
+
+As I approached, one of the men who had been summing up his comrades
+and evidently realised the reason for their selection, remarked
+in a very audible Cockney whisper, "What I says is, if you was to
+search the 'ole of Norvern France you wouldn't find a smarter body
+o' men!"--_"Nobby" (late Captain, Middlesex Regiment), Potters Bar,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+"You'd Pay a Tanner at the Zoo!"
+
+During the floods in Palestine in 1917 I had to be sent down the line
+with an attack of malaria. Owing to the roads being deep in water, I
+was strapped in an iron chair pannier on the back of a camel. My sick
+companion, who balanced me on the other side of the camel, was a member
+of the London Regiment affectionately known as the Hackney Gurkhas.
+
+The Johnnie patiently trudged through the water leading the camel, and
+kept up the cry of "Ish! Ish!" as it almost slipped down at every step.
+
+I was feeling pretty bad with the swaying, and said to my companion,
+"Isn't this the limit?"
+
+"Shurrup, mate!" he replied. "Yer don't know when yer well orf. You'd
+'ave to pay a tanner for this at the Zoo!"--_Frederick T. Fitch (late
+1/5th Batt. Norfolk Regt.), The Gordon Boys' Home, West End, Woking,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Smoking Without Cigarettes
+
+Most ex-soldiers will remember the dreary monotony of "going through
+the motions" of every movement in rifle exercises.
+
+We had just evacuated our position on the night of December 4-5, 1917,
+at Cambrai, after the German counter-attack, and, after withstanding
+several days' severe battering both by the enemy and the elements, were
+staggering along, tired and frozen and hungry, and generally fed up.
+
+When we were deemed to be sufficiently far from the danger zone the
+order was given to allow the men to smoke. As practically everyone in
+the battalion had been without cigarettes or tobacco for some days
+the permission seemed to be wasted. But I passed the word down, "'C'
+Company, the men may smoke," to be immediately taken up by a North
+Londoner: "Yus, and if you ain't got no fags you can go through the
+motions."--_H. H. Morris, M.C. (late Lieut., 16th Middlesex Regt.), 10
+Herbert Street, Malden Road, N.W.5._
+
+
+An Expensive Light
+
+Winter 1915, at Wieltje, on the St. Jean Road. We were on listening
+post in a shell-hole in No Man's Land, and the night was black.
+
+Without any warning, my Cockney pal Nobby threw a bomb towards the
+German trench, and immediately Fritz sent up dozens of Verey lights.
+I turned anxiously to Nobby and asked, "What is it? Did you spot
+anything?" and was astonished when he replied, "I wanted ter know
+the time, and I couldn't see me blinkin' watch in the dark."--_E. W.
+Fellows, M.M. (late 6th Battn. D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace Road, Clapton,
+E.5._
+
+
+Modern Conveniences
+
+A Tommy plugging it along the Arras-Doullens road in the pouring rain.
+"Ole Bill," the omnibus, laden with Cockneys going towards the line,
+overtakes him.
+
+Tommy: "Sitting room inside, mate?"
+
+Cockney on Bus: "No, but there's a barf-room upstairs!"--_George T.
+Coles (ex-Lieut., R.A.F.), 17 Glebe Crescent, Hendon, N.W.4._
+
+[Illustration: "There's a barf-room upstairs!"]
+
+
+The Trench Fleet
+
+A certain section of the line, just in front of Levantie, being a
+comparatively peaceful and quiet spot, was held by a series of posts at
+intervals of anything up to three hundred yards, which made the task of
+bringing up rations an unhappy one, especially as the trenches in this
+sector always contained about four feet of water.
+
+One November night a miserable ration party was wading through the thin
+slimy mud. The sentry at the top of the communication trench, hearing
+the grousing, splashing, and clanking of tins, and knowing full well
+who was approaching, issued the usual challenge, as per Army Orders:
+"'Alt! 'Oo goes there?"
+
+Out of the darkness came the reply, in a weary voice: "Admiral Jellicoe
+an' 'is blinkin' fleet."--_W. L. de Groot (late Lieut., 5th West Yorks
+Regt.), 17 Wentworth Road, Golders Green, N.W.11._
+
+
+The Necessary Stimulant
+
+On the St. Quentin front in 1917 we were relieved by the French
+Artillery. We watched with rather critical eyes their guns going in,
+and, best of all, their observation balloon going up.
+
+The ascent of this balloon was, to say the least, spasmodic. First it
+went up about a hundred feet, then came down, then a little higher and
+down again.
+
+This was repeated several times, until at last the car was brought
+to the ground and the observer got out. He was handed a packet, then
+hastily returned, and up the balloon went for good. Then I heard a
+Cockney voice beside me in explanatory tones: "There! I noo wot it was
+all the time. 'E'd forgotten his vin blong!"--_Ernest E. Homewood (late
+1st London Heavy Battery), 13 Park Avenue, Willesden Green, N.W.2._
+
+
+A Traffic Problem
+
+A dark cloudy night in front of Lens, two patrols of the 19th London
+Regt., one led by Lieut. R----, the other by Corporal B----, were
+crawling along the barbed wire entanglements in No Man's Land, towards
+each other.
+
+Two tin hats met with a clang, which at once drew the attention of
+Fritz.
+
+Lieut. R---- sat back in the mud, while snipers' and machine-gun
+bullets whistled past, and in a cool voice said, "Why don't you
+ring your perishing bell?"--_L. C. Pryke (late 19th London Regt.),
+"Broughdale," Rochford Avenue, Rochford, Essex._
+
+
+Scots, Read This!
+
+On the afternoon of Christmas Day, 1915, three pipers, of whom I was
+one, went into the trenches at Loos, and after playing at our Battalion
+H.Q., proceeded to the front line, where we played some selections
+for the benefit of the Germans, whose trenches were very close at
+this point. Probably thinking that an attack was imminent, they sent
+up innumerable Verey lights, but, deciding later that we had no such
+intention, they responded by singing and playing on mouth-organs.
+
+Having finished our performance, my friends and I proceeded on our way
+back, and presently, passing some men of another regiment, were asked
+by one of them: "Was that you playin' them bloomin' toobs?" We admitted
+it.
+
+"'Ear that, Joe?" he remarked to his pal. "These blokes 'ave bin givin'
+the 'Uns a toon."
+
+"Serve 'em right," said Joe, "they started the blinkin' war."--_Robert
+Donald Marshall (late Piper, 1st Bn. London Scottish), 83 Cranley
+Drive, Ilford._
+
+
+Met His Match
+
+A London Tommy was standing near the leave boat at Calais, which had
+just brought him back to France on his way to the firing line. It was
+raining, and he was trying to get a damp cigarette to draw.
+
+Just then a French soldier approached him with an unlighted cigarette
+in his hand, and, pointing to Tommy's cigarette, held out his hand and
+exclaimed "Allumette?"
+
+[Illustration: Poilu: "Allumette?"
+
+Tommy: "'Allo, mate." (Shakes.)]
+
+The Tommy sadly shook hands and replied "Allo, Mate."--_A. J. Fairer,
+Mirigama, Red Down Road, Coulsdon, Surrey._
+
+
+Why Jerry was "Clinked"
+
+On August 8, 1918, as our battery began the long trail which landed us
+in Cologne before Christmas we met a military policeman who had in his
+charge three very dejected-looking German prisoners. "Brummy," our
+battery humorist, shouted to the red-cap: "'Ullo, Bobby, what are yer
+clinkin' those poor old blokes for?"
+
+"Creatin' a disturbance on the Western Front," replied the
+red-cap.--_Wm. G. Sheppard (late Sergeant, 24th Siege Bty., R.A.), 50
+Benares Road, Plumstead, S.E.18._
+
+
+Stick-in-the-Mud
+
+We were in reserve at Roclincourt in February 1917, and about twenty
+men were detailed to carry rations to the front line. The trenches were
+knee-deep in mud.
+
+After traversing about two hundred yards of communication trench we
+struck a particularly thick, clayey patch, and every few yards the
+order "Halt in front!" was passed from the rear.
+
+The corporal leading the men got very annoyed at the all-too-frequent
+halts. He passed the word back, "What's the matter?" The reply was,
+"Shorty's in the mud, and we can't get 'im out."
+
+Waiting a few minutes, the corporal again passed a message back:
+"Haven't you got him out yet? How long are you going to be?" Reply came
+from the rear in a Cockney voice: "'Eaven knows! There's only 'is ears
+showin'."--_G. Kay, 162 Devonshire Avenue, Southsea, Hants._
+
+
+"If _That_ can stick it, _I_ can!"
+
+Owing to the forced marching during the retreat from Mons, men would
+fall out by the roadside and, after a rest, carry on again.
+
+One old soldier, "Buster" Smith, was lying down puffing and gasping
+when up rode an officer mounted upon an old horse that he had found
+straying.
+
+Going up to "Buster" the officer asked him if he thought he could
+"stick it."
+
+"Buster" looked up at the officer and then, eyeing the horse, said:
+"If _that_ can stick it, _I_ can," and, getting up, he resumed
+marching.--_E. Barwick, 19 St. Peter's Street, Hackney Road, E.2._
+
+
+Wheeling a Mule
+
+In November '15 we were relieved in the early hours of the morning.
+
+It had been raining, raining most of the time we were in the trenches,
+and so we were more or less wet through and covered in mud when we came
+out for a few days' rest.
+
+About two or three kilometres from Béthune we were all weary and fed-up
+with marching. Scarcely a word was spoken until we came across an
+Engineer leading a mule with a roll of telephone wire coiled round a
+wheel on its back. The mule looked as fed-up as we were, and a Cockney
+in our platoon shouted out, "Blimey, mate, if you're goin' much furver
+wiv the old 'oss yer'll 'ave to turn it on its back and wheel it."--_W.
+S. (late Coldstream Guards), Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+Three Brace of Braces
+
+While I was serving with the 58th Siege Battery at Carnoy, on the
+Somme, in 1916, a young Cockney of the 29th Division was discovered
+walking in front of three German prisoners. Over his shoulders he had
+three pairs of braces.
+
+[Illustration: "... while I got their 'harness' they can't get up to
+any mischief."]
+
+A wag asked him if he wanted to sell them, and his reply was: "No,
+these Fritzies gets 'em back when they gets to the cage. But while I
+got their 'harness' they can't get up to any mischief."--_E. Brinkman,
+16 Hornsey Street, Holloway Road, N.7._
+
+
+"Bow Bells" Warning
+
+At the beginning of March 1918, near Flesquières, we captured a number
+of prisoners, some of whom were put in the charge of "Nipper," a native
+of Limehouse.
+
+I heard him address them as follows: "Nah, then, if yer wants a fag yer
+can have one, but, blimey, if yer starts any capers, I'll knock 'Bow
+Bells' aht of yer Stepney Church."--_J. Barlow (20th London Regt.), 18
+Roding Lane, Buckhurst Hill, Essex._
+
+
+"'Ave a Sniff"
+
+My father tells of a raw individual from London Town who had aroused
+great wrath by having within a space of an hour given two false alarms
+for gas. After the second error everyone was just drowsing off again
+when a figure cautiously put his head inside the dug-out, and hoarsely
+said: "'Ere, sergeant, yer might come and 'ave a sniff."--_R. Purser,
+St. Oama, Vista Road, Wickford, Essex._
+
+
+The Dirt Track
+
+While my regiment was in support at Ecurie, near Arras, I was detailed
+to take an urgent message to B.H.Q.
+
+I mounted a motor-cycle and started on my way, but I hadn't gone far
+when a shell burst right in my path and made a huge crater, into which
+I slipped. After going round the inside rim twice at about twenty-five
+miles an hour, I landed in the mud at the bottom. Pulling myself clear
+of the cycle, I saw two fellows looking down and laughing at me.
+
+"Funny, isn't it?" I said.
+
+"Yus, matey, thought it was Sanger's Circus. Where's the girl in the
+tights wot rides the 'orses?"
+
+Words failed me.--_London Yeomanry, Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Babylon and Bully
+
+After a dismal trek across the mud of Mespot, my batman and I arrived
+at the ruins of Babylon. As I sat by the river under the trees, and
+gazed upon the stupendous ruins of the one-time mightiest city in the
+world, I thought of the words of the old Psalm--"By the waters of
+Babylon we sat down and wept----"
+
+And this was the actual spot!
+
+Moved by my thoughts, I turned to my batman and said, "By Jove, just
+think. This is really _Babylon_!"
+
+"Yes, sir," he replied, "but I'm a-wonderin' 'ow I'm goin' to do your
+bully beef up to-night to make a change like."--_W. L. Lamb (late R.E.,
+M.E.F.), "Sunnings," Sidley, Bexhill-on-Sea._
+
+
+Twice Nightly
+
+An attack was expected, and some men were kept in reserve in an
+underground excavation more closely resembling a tunnel than a trench.
+
+After about twenty hours' waiting in knee-deep mud and freezing cold,
+they were relieved by another group.
+
+As they were filing out one of the relief party said to one of those
+coming out, "Who are you?"
+
+"'Oo are we?" came the reply. "Cahn't yer see we're the fust 'ouse
+comin' aht o' the pit?"--_K. Haddon, 379 Rotherhithe New Road, North
+Camberwell, S.E.16._
+
+
+In Shining Armour
+
+A horrible wet night on the Locre-Dranoutre Road in 1914. A narrow
+strip of pavé road and, on either side, mud of a real Flanders
+consistency.
+
+I was on my lawful occasions in a car, which was following a long
+supply column of five-ton lorries.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ere, ally off the perishin' pavé, you knight in
+shinin' armour."]
+
+I need scarcely say that the car did not try to forsake the comparative
+security of the pavé, but when a check of about a quarter of an hour
+occurred, I got down from the car and stumbled through the pouring
+rain, well above the boot-tops in mud, to the head of the column.
+
+Impasse barely describes the condition of things, for immediately
+facing the leading lorry was a squadron of French Cuirassiers, complete
+with "tin bellies" and helmets with horse-hair trimmings.
+
+This squadron was in command of a very haughty French captain, who
+seemed, in the light of the lorry's head-lamps, to have a bigger
+cuirass and helmet than his men.
+
+He was faced by a diminutive sergeant of the A.S.C., wet through, fed
+up, but complete with cigarette.
+
+Neither understood the other's language, but it was quite obvious that
+neither would leave the pavé for the mud. Did the sergeant wring his
+hands or say to the officer, "Mon Capitaine, je vous en prie, etc."? He
+did not. He merely stood there, and, removing his cigarette from his
+mouth, uttered these immortal words:
+
+"'Ere, ally off the perishing pavé, you son of a knight in shinin'
+armour!"
+
+And, believe me or believe me not, that is what the haughty one and his
+men did.--_"The Ancient Mariner," Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"A Blinkin' Paper-Chase?"
+
+One pitch black rainy night I was bringing up the rear of a party
+engaged in carrying up the line a number of trench mortar bombs known
+as "toffee-apples."
+
+We had become badly tailed-off during our progress through a maze of
+communication trenches knee-deep in mud, and as I staggered at last
+into the support trench with my load I spied a solitary individual
+standing on the fire-step gazing over the parapet.
+
+"Seen any Queen's pass this way?" I inquired.
+
+"Blimey," he replied, apparently fed-up with the constant repetition of
+the same question, "wot 'ave you blokes got on to-night---a blinkin'
+piper-chise?"--_W. H. Blakeman (late Sergt., Queen's R.W.S. Regt.), 22
+Shorts Road, Carshalton._
+
+
+Biscuits--Another Point of View
+
+In April 1915 my battalion was on the way up to take over a line of
+"grouse-butts"--there were no continuous trenches--in front of a
+pleasure resort by the name of Festubert.
+
+Arrived at Gore, a couple of miles or so from the line, we ran into
+some transport that had got thoroughly tied up, and had a wait of about
+half-an-hour while the joy-riders sorted themselves out. It was pitch
+dark and raining hard, and the occasional spot of confetti that came
+over added very little to the general enjoyment.
+
+As I moved up and down my platoon, the usual profane but humorous
+grousing was in full spate. At that time the ration arrangements were
+not so well organised as they afterwards became, and for some weeks the
+bulk of our banquets had consisted of bully and remarkably hard and
+unpalatable biscuits. The latter were a particularly sore point with
+the troops.
+
+As I listened, one rifleman held forth on the subject. "No blinkin'
+bread for five blinkin' weeks," he wound up--"nothin' but blinkin'
+biscuits that taste like sawdust an' break every tooth in yer perishin'
+'ed. 'Ow the 'ell do they expect yer to fight on stuff like that?"
+"Whatcher grousin' about?" drawled another weary voice. "Dawgs _lives_
+on biscuits, and they can fight like 'ell!"--_S. B. Skevington (late
+Major, 1st London Irish Rifles), 10 Berkeley Street, W.1._
+
+
+His Bird Bath
+
+A battalion of the Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment) was in
+support, and a private was endeavouring to wash himself as thoroughly
+as possible with about a pint of water in a mess-tin.
+
+A kindly disposed staff officer happened to come along, and seeing the
+man thus engaged, said, "Having a wash, my man?"
+
+[Illustration: "Wish I was a blinkin' canary: I could have a bath
+then."]
+
+Back came the reply, "Yus, and I wish I was a blinkin' canary. Could
+have a bath then."--_R. G. Scarborough, 89 Tennyson Avenue, New Maiden,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Ducking 'em---then Nursing 'em
+
+After the Cambrai affair of November 1917 our company came out of the
+line, but we had to salvage some very large and heavy shells.
+
+We had been carrying the shells in our arms for about an hour when I
+heard a fed-up Cockney turn to the sergeant and say: "'Ere 'ave I been
+duckin' me nut for years from these blinkin' fings---blimey, and nah
+I'm nursin' 'em!"---_Rfn. Elliott (late 17th K.R.R.C.), 9 Leghorn Road,
+Harlesden, N.W._
+
+
+Salonika Rhapsody
+
+Three of us were sitting by the support line on the Salonika front,
+conditions were fairly bad, rations were short and a mail was long
+overdue. We were fed-up. But the view across the Vardar Valley was some
+compensation.
+
+The wadis and plains, studded with bright flowers, the glistening river
+and the sun just setting behind the distant ridges and tinting the low
+clouds, combined to make a perfect picture. One of my pals, with a
+poetic temperament, rhapsodised on the scene for several minutes, and
+then asked our other mate what he thought. "Sooner see the blinkin'
+Old Kent Road!" was the answer of the peace-time costermonger.--_W. W.
+Wright, 24 Borthwick Road, E.15._
+
+
+A Ticklin' Tiddler
+
+In January 1915, near Richebourg, I was one of a ration-party being led
+back to the front line by a lance-corporal. The front line was a system
+of breast-works surrounded by old disused trenches filled with seven
+feet or so of icy-cold water.
+
+It was a very dark moonless night, and near the line our leader called
+out to those in the breast-works to ask them where the bridge was. He
+was told to step off by the broken tree. He did so and slid into the
+murky depths--the wrong tree!
+
+We got him out and he stood on dry (?) land, shining with moisture,
+full of strange oaths and vowing vengeance on the lad who had
+misdirected him.
+
+At stand-down in the dawn (hours afterwards) he was sipping his tot of
+rum. He had had no chance of drying his clothes. I asked how he felt.
+
+"Fresh as a pansy, mate," was his reply. "Won'erful 'ow a cold plunge
+bucks yer up! Blimey, I feel as if I could push a leave train from
+'ere to the base. 'Ere, put yer 'and dahn my tunic and see if that's
+a tiddler ticklin' me back."--_F. J. Reidy (late 1st K.R.R.s), 119
+Mayfair Avenue, Ilford._
+
+
+Biscuits and Geometry
+
+During a spell near St. Quentin our company existed chiefly on
+biscuits--much to the annoyance of one of our officers, who said he
+detested dogs' food.
+
+One evening he met the Cockney corporal who had just come up in charge
+of the ration party.
+
+Officer: "Any change to-night, corporal?"
+
+Corporal: "Yessir!"
+
+Officer: "Good! What have we got?"
+
+Corporal: "Rahnd 'uns instead of square 'uns, sir."--_R. Pitt (late
+M.G.C.), 54 Holland Park Avenue, W.11._
+
+
+All that was Wrong with the War
+
+Taking up ammunition to the guns at Passchendaele Ridge, I met a few
+infantrymen carrying duckboards.
+
+My mule was rather in the way and so one of the infantrymen, who
+belonged to a London regiment, gave him a push with his duckboard.
+
+Naturally, the mule simply let out and kicked him into a shell-hole
+full of water.
+
+[Illustration: "... and that's mules."]
+
+We got the unlucky fellow out, and his first action was to shake his
+fist at the mule and say: "There's only one thing I don't like in
+this blinking war and that's those perishin' mules!"--_H. E. Richards
+(R.F.A.), 67 Topsham Road, Upper Tooting, S.W.17._
+
+
+Not a Single Cockney
+
+In 1917, when we were acting as mobile artillery, we had halted by the
+roadside to water and feed our horses, and were just ready to move off
+when we were passed by a column of the Chinese Labour Corps, about
+2,000 of them.
+
+After they had all passed, a gunner from Clerkenwell said: "Would
+yer believe it? All that lot gorn by and I never reckernised a
+Townie!"--_C. Davis (late Sergeant, R.A., 3rd Cavalry Division), 7 Yew
+Tree Villas, Welling, Kent._
+
+
+Sanger's Circus on the Marne!
+
+On the way from the Marne to the Aisne in September 1914 the 5th
+Cavalry Brigade passed a column of Algerian native troops, who had been
+drawn up in a field to allow us to continue along the nearby road.
+
+The column had all the gaudy appearance of shop windows at Christmas.
+There were hooded vehicles with stars and crescents blazoned on them,
+drawn by bullocks, mules, and donkeys. The natives themselves were
+dressed, some in white robes and turbans, others in red "plus four"
+trousers and blue "Eton cut" jackets; and their red fezzes were adorned
+with stars and crescents. Altogether a picturesque sight, and one we
+did not expect to meet on the Western Front.
+
+On coming into view of this column, one of our lead drivers (from Bow)
+of a four-horse team drawing a pontoon wagon turned round to his wheel
+driver, and, pointing to the column with his whip, shouted, "Alf!
+Sanger's Circus!"--_H. W. Taylor (late R.E.), The Lodge, Radnor Works,
+Strawberry Vale, Twickenham._
+
+
+"Contemptible" Stuff
+
+When the rumour reached us about a medal for the troops who went out
+at the beginning, a few of us were sitting in a dug-out outside Ypres
+discussing the news.
+
+"Mac" said: "I wonder if they'll give us anything else beside the
+medal?"
+
+Our Cockney, Alf, remarked: "You got a lot to say about this 'ere
+bloomin' 'gong' (medal); anybody 'd fink you was goin' ter git one."
+
+"I came out in September '14, any way," said Mac.
+
+Alf (very indignant): "Blimey, 'ark at 'im! You don't 'arf expect
+somefink, you don't. Why, the blinkin' war was 'arf over by then."--_J.
+F. Grey (late D.L.I, and R.A.O.C.), 247 Ducane Road, Shepherd's Bush,
+W.12._
+
+
+A Cockney on Horseback---Just
+
+We were going out to rest after about four months behind the guns at
+Ypres, and the drivers brought up spare horses for us to ride. One
+Cockney gunner was heard to say, "I can't ride; I've never rode an
+'orse in me life." We helped him to get mounted, but we had not gone
+far when Jerry started sending 'em over. So we started trotting. To see
+our Cockney friend hanging on with his arms round the horse's neck was
+quite a treat!
+
+However, we eventually got back to the horse lines where our hero,
+having fallen off, remarked: "Well, after that, I fink if ever I do
+get back to Blighty I'll always raise me 'at to an 'orse."--_A. Lepley
+(late R.F.A.), 133 Blackwell Buildings, Whitechapel, E.1._
+
+
+A Too Sociable Horse
+
+We were asleep in our dug-out at Bray, on the Somme, in November 1915.
+The dug-out was cut in the bank of a field where our horse lines were.
+
+One of the horses broke loose and, taking a fancy to our roof, which
+was made of brushwood and rushes, started eating it.
+
+Suddenly the roof gave way and the horse fell through, narrowly missing
+myself and my pal, who was also a Cockney.
+
+[Illustration: "They want to come to bed wiv us."]
+
+After we had got over the shock my pal said, "Well, if that ain't the
+blinkin' latest. These long-eared blighters ain't satisfied with us
+looking after them--they want to come to bed with us."--_F. E. Snell
+(late 27th Brigade, R.F.A.), 22 Woodchester Street, Harrow Road, W.2._
+
+
+General Salute!
+
+While "resting" at Bully-Grenay in the winter of 1916 I witnessed the
+following incident:
+
+Major-General ---- and his A.D.C. were walking through the village
+when an elderly Cockney member of a Labour battalion (a typical London
+navvy) stumbled out of an estaminet. He almost collided with the
+general.
+
+Quickly pulling himself together and exclaiming "Blimey, the boss!" he
+gave a very non-military salute; but the general, tactfully ignoring
+his merry condition, had passed on.
+
+In spite of his pal's attempts to restrain him, he overtook the
+general, shouting "I did serlute yer, didn't I, guv'nor?"
+
+To which the general hastily replied: "Yes, yes, my man!"
+
+"Well," said the Cockney, "here's anuvver!"--_A. J. K. Davis (late
+20th London Regt., att. 73rd M.G.C.), Minnis Croft, Reculver Avenue,
+Birchington._
+
+
+Wipers-on-Sea
+
+Scene, "Wipers"; Time, winter of 1917.
+
+A very miserable-looking R.F.A. driver, wet to the skin, is riding a
+very weary mule through the rain.
+
+Voice from passing infantryman, in the unmistakable accent of Bow
+Bells: "Where y' goin', mate? Pier an' back?"--_A. Gelli (late H.A.C.),
+27 Langdon Park Road, Highgate, N.6._
+
+
+He Rescued His Shirt
+
+During the latter stages of the war, with the enemy in full retreat,
+supply columns and stores were in most cases left far behind. Those in
+the advance columns, when marching through occupied villages, often
+"won" articles of underclothing to make up for deficiencies.
+
+Camberwell Alf had a couple of striped "civvy" shirts, and had lent
+a less fortunate battery chum one of these on the understanding that
+it would be returned in due course. The same evening the battery
+was crossing a pontoon bridge when a mule became frightened at the
+oscillation of the wooden structure, reared wildly, and pitched its
+rider over the canvas screen into the river.
+
+Camberwell Alf immediately plunged into the water and rescued his
+unfortunate chum after a great struggle.
+
+Later the rescued one addressed his rescuer: "Thank yer, Alf, mate."
+
+"Don't yer 'mate' me, yer blinkin' perisher!" Alf replied. "Wot the
+'ell d'yer mean by muckin' abaht in the pahny (water) wiv my shirt
+on?"--_J. H. Hartnoll (late 30th Div. Artillery), 1 Durning Road, Upper
+Norwood, S.E.19._
+
+
+A Smile from the Prince
+
+One morning towards the end of May 1915, just before the battle of
+Festubert, my pal Bill and I were returning from the village bakery on
+the Festubert road to our billets at Gorre with a loaf each, which we
+had just bought.
+
+Turning the corner into the village we saw approaching us a company of
+the Grenadier Guards in battle order, with a slim young officer at the
+head carrying a stick almost as tall as himself. Directly behind the
+officer was a hefty Guardsman playing "Tipperary" on a concertina.
+
+We saluted the officer, who, after spotting the loaves of bread
+under our arms, looked straight at us, gave us a knowing smile and
+acknowledged our salute. It was not till then that we recognised who
+the officer was. It was the Prince of Wales.
+
+"Lumme!" said Bill. "There goes the Prince o' Wales hisself a-taking
+the guard to the Bank o' England!"--_J. F. Davis, 29 Faunce Street,
+S.E.17._
+
+
+"Just to Make Us Laugh"
+
+We were one of those unlucky fatigue parties detailed to carry
+ammunition to the forward machine gun positions in the Ypres sector.
+We started off in the dusk and trudged up to the line. The transport
+dumped the "ammo" at a convenient spot and left us to it. Then it
+started raining.
+
+The communication trenches were up to our boot tops in mud, so we left
+them and walked across the top. The ground was all chalky slime and we
+slipped and slid all over the place. Within a very short time we were
+wet through and, to make matters worse, we occasionally slipped into
+shell-holes half full of water (just to relieve the monotony!).
+
+We kept this up all night until the "ammo" had all been delivered; then
+the order came to march back to billets at Dranoutre. It was still
+pouring with rain, and when we came to Shrapnel Corner we saw the
+famous notice board: "Avoid raising Dust Clouds as it draws Enemy's
+Shell Fire."
+
+We were new to this part of the line and, just then, the idea of
+raising dust clouds was extremely ludicrous.
+
+I asked my pal Jarvis, who came from Greenwich, what he thought they
+put boards like that up for. His reply was typically Cockney: "I
+'spect they did that just to make us laugh, as we cawnt go to the
+picshures."--_Mack (late M.G.C.), Cathcart, The Heath, Dartford._
+
+
+No Use Arguing with a Mule
+
+Whilst "resting" after the Jerusalem battle, my battalion was detailed
+for road-making. Large stones were used for the foundation of the road
+and small and broken stones for the surface. Our job was to find the
+stones, _assisted_ by mules.
+
+A mule was new to Joe Smith--a great-hearted boy from Limehouse
+way--but he must have heard about them for he gingerly approached the
+one allotted to him, and as gingerly led him away into the hills.
+
+Presently Joe was seen returning, but, to our amazement, he was
+struggling along with the loaded baskets slung across his own
+shoulders, and the mule was trailing behind. When I asked why _he_ was
+carrying the load, he replied: "Well, I was loading 'im up wiv the
+stones, but he cut up rusty, so to save a lot of argument, I reckoned
+as 'ow I'd better carry the darned stones meself."---_A. C. Wood, 56
+Glasslyn Road, N.8._
+
+
+Kissing Time
+
+It was towards the end of '18, and we had got old Jerry well on the
+run. We had reached a village near Lille, which had been in German
+occupation, and the inhabitants were surging round us.
+
+[Illustration: "Take the rough with the smooth."]
+
+A corporal was having the time of his life, being kissed on both cheeks
+by the girls, but when it came to a bewhiskered French papa's turn the
+corporal hesitated. "Nah, then, corporal," shouted one of our boys, "be
+sporty! Take the rough with the smooth!"---_G. H. Harris (late C.S.M.,
+8th London Regt.), 65 Nelson Road, South Chingford, E.4._
+
+
+"Playin' Soldiers"
+
+We were in the Cambrai Salient, in support in the old Hindenburg Line.
+Close to us was a road where there were a ration dump and every other
+sort of dump. Everybody in the sector went through us to get rations,
+ammunition, stores, etc.
+
+There was just room in the trench for two men to pass. Snow had been on
+the ground for weeks, and the bottom of the trench was like glass. One
+night at stand-to the Drake Battalion crowded past us to get rations.
+On their return journey the leading man, with two sandbags of rations
+round his neck and a petrol can of water in each hand, fell over at
+every other step. Things were further complicated by a party of R.E.'s
+coming down the line with much barbed wire, in which this unfortunate
+"Drake" entangled himself.
+
+As he picked himself up for the umpteenth time, and without the least
+intention of being funny, I heard him say: "Well, if I ever catch that
+nipper of mine playin' soldiers, I won't 'arf knock 'is blinkin' block
+orf."--_A. M. B. (late Artists Rifles), Savage Club, W.C.2._
+
+
+Per Carrier
+
+During the occupation of the "foreshores of Gallipoli" in 1915 the
+troops were suffering from shortage of water.
+
+I and six more, including Tich, were detailed to carry petrol cans full
+of water up to the front line. We had rather a rough passage over very
+hilly ground, and more than one of us tripped over stones that were
+strewn across the path, causing us to say a few strong words.
+
+By the time we reached our destination we were just about all in, and
+on being challenged "Halt; who goes there?" Tich answered: "Carter
+Paterson and Co. with 'Adam's ale,' all nice and frothy!"--_D. W.
+Jordan (late 1/5th Essex, 54th Division), 109a Gilmore Road, Lewisham,
+S.E.13._
+
+
+"Enemy" in the Wire
+
+I was in charge of an advanced post on the Dorian front, Salonica,
+1917, which had been often raided by the Bulgars, and we were advised
+to be extra wary. In the event of an attack we were to fire a red
+flare, which was a signal for the artillery to put over a barrage.
+
+About 2 a.m. we heard a commotion in our wire, but, receiving no answer
+to our challenge, I decided to await further developments. The noise
+was soon repeated in a way that left no doubt in my mind that we were
+being attacked, so I ordered the section to open fire and sent up the
+signal for the guns.
+
+Imagine our surprise when, after all was quiet again, we heard the same
+noise in the wire. One of the sentries was a Cockney, and without a
+word he crawled over the parapet and disappeared in the direction of
+the noise.
+
+A few minutes later came the sound of smothered laughter, and the
+sentry returned with a hedgehog firmly fixed in an empty bully tin. It
+was the cause of our alarm!
+
+After releasing the animal from its predicament, the sentry said: "We'd
+better send the blighter to the Zoo, Corp, wiv a card to say 'this
+little pig put the wind up the troops, caused a fousand men to open
+fire, was bombed, machine-gunned, and shelled.' Blimey! I'd like to
+see the Gunner officer's face if he knew this."--_D. R. Payne, M.M.
+(ex-Worcester Regt.), 40 High Street, Overton, Hants._
+
+
+Straight from the Heart
+
+Under canvas at Rousseauville with 27th Squadron, R.F.C., early
+1918--wet season--raining hard--everything wet through and muddy--a
+"fed-up" gloomy feeling everywhere.
+
+We were trying to start a 3-ton lorry that was stuck in the mud on the
+aerodrome. After we had all had a shot at swinging the starting handle,
+the very Cockney driver of the lorry completely exhausted himself in
+yet another unsuccessful attempt to start up. Then, leaning against the
+radiator and pushing his cap back, he puffed out:
+
+"I dunno! These perishin' lorries are enough to take all the flamin'
+romance out of any blinkin' camp!"--_R. S. W. (Flying-Officer, R.A.F.
+Reserve), 52 Cavendish Road, N.W.6._
+
+
+Smile! Smile! SMILE!!
+
+Conversation between two Cockney members of a North Country regiment
+whilst proceeding along the Menin road in March 1918 as members of a
+wiring party:
+
+1st: I'm fed up with this stunt.
+
+2nd: Same 'ere. 'Tain't 'arf a life, ain't it? No rest, no beer,
+blinkin' leave stopped--er, got any fags?
+
+1st: No, mate.
+
+2nd: No fags, no nuffink. It's only us keepin' so ruddy cheerful as
+pulls us through.--_V. Marston, 232 Worple Road, Wimbledon, S.W.20._
+
+
+War's Lost Charm
+
+Time, winter of 1917: scene, a track towards Langemarck from Pilkem.
+Weather and general conditions--Flanders at its worst. My companion
+that night was an N.C.O. "out since 'fourteen," and we had plodded
+on in silence for some time. Suddenly behind me there was a slither,
+a splash, and a smothered remark as the sergeant skidded from the
+duckboard into an especially dirty shell hole.
+
+I helped him out and asked if he was all right. The reply came,
+"I'm all right, sir; but this blinkin' war seems to have lost its
+charm!"--_J. E. A. Whitman (Captain, late R.F.A.), The Hampden Club,
+N.W.1._
+
+
+Taking It Lying Down
+
+The 1st Battalion of the 25th Londons was preparing to march into
+Waziristan.
+
+Old Bert, the cook, diligently loading up a kneeling camel with dixies,
+pots and pans, and general cooking utensils, paused for a bit, wiped
+the sweat from his brow, and stood back with arms akimbo gazing with
+satisfaction upon his work.
+
+Then he went up to the camel, gave him a gentle prod, and grunted
+"Ooush, yer blighter, ooush" (i.e. rise). The camel turned gently over
+on his back, unshipping the whole cargo that Bert had worked so hard
+upon, and kicked his legs in the air.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer kitten?"]
+
+Poor old Bert looked at the wreckage and exclaimed, more in sorrow
+than in anger: "Blimey, don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer
+kitten?"--_T. F. Chanter, 16 Atalanta Street, Fulham._
+
+
+The First Twenty Years
+
+It was round about Christmas 1917, and we were resting (?) at "Dirty
+Bucket Corner." The Christmas present we all had in view was a return
+to the line in front of Ypres.
+
+On the day before we were due to return the Christmas post arrived,
+and after the excitement had abated the usual "blueness" settled
+in--the craving for home comforts and "Blighty."
+
+My partners in the stretcher-bearing squad included a meek and mild man
+(I believe he was a schoolmaster before the war) and a Cockney from
+Seven Dials. We used to call him "Townie."
+
+Although the ex-schoolmaster would have had cause in more normal times
+to rejoice--for the post contained a letter telling him that he had
+become the father of a bonny boy--the news made him morbid.
+
+Of course, we all congratulated him. Meanwhile "Townie" was busy with
+a pencil and writing pad, and after a few minutes handed to the new
+parent a sheet of paper folded in half. The recipient unfolded it
+and looked at it for several seconds before the rest of us became
+interested and looked over his shoulder.
+
+The paper was covered with lines, circles, and writing that appeared to
+us like "double-Dutch."
+
+"What's this?" the father asked.
+
+"That's a map I drawed fer yer kid. It'll show him where the old
+pot and pan is when he's called up," and he concluded with this
+afterthought: "Tell 'im ter be careful of that ruddy shell-hole
+just acrost there. I've fallen in the perishin' thing twice this
+week."--_"Medico" (58th (London) Division), Clapham Common, S.W.11._
+
+
+Shell as a Hammer
+
+At one time the area just behind Vimy Ridge was plentifully sprinkled
+with enemy shells which had failed to explode. As these were considered
+a great source of danger they were indicated by "danger boards" nailed
+to pointed stakes driven into the ground.
+
+On one occasion, seeing a man engaged in so marking the resting-place
+of a "dud"--he was a cheerful Cockney, who whistled as he went about
+his job--I was much amused (though somewhat scared) to see him stop at
+a nearby shell, select a "danger board," pick up the shell, and proceed
+to use it as a hammer to drive the stake into the ground!--_H. S. A.
+(late Lieut., Suffolk Regt.), Glebe Road, Cheam._
+
+
+Sore Feet
+
+After the first battle of Ypres an old driver, whom we called
+"Krongie," had very bad feet, and one day reported sick at the
+estaminet where the M.O. held office.
+
+After the examination he ambled up the road, and when he was about 50
+yards away the M.O.'s orderly ran out and called: "Krongie, when you
+get to the column tell the farrier the M.O.'s horse has cast a shoe."
+
+"Krongie": "Ho, yus. You tell 'im ter give the blinkin' cheval a couple
+of number nines like he gave me for _my_ feet."--_P. Jones (R.H.A.), 6
+Ennis Road, N.4._
+
+
+My Sword Dance--by the C.O.
+
+A bitterly cold morning in winter, 1916, in the Ypres Salient. I was on
+duty at a gas alarm post in the front line when along came the colonel.
+
+He was the finest soldier and gentleman I ever had the pleasure to
+serve under (being an old soldier in two regiments before, I had
+experienced a few C.O.s). It was said he knew every man's name in the
+regiment. No officer dare start his own meal until every man of his
+company had been served. No fatigue or working party ever went up the
+line, no matter at what hour, without the colonel first inspected it.
+
+He had a mania for collecting spare ammunition, and more than once
+was seen taking up to the front line a roll of barbed wire over his
+shoulder hooked through his stick. To him every man was a son, and to
+the men's regret and officers' delight he soon became a general.
+
+This particular morning he approached me with "Good morning, Walker.
+You look cold. Had your rum?" To which I replied that I had, but it was
+a cold job remaining stationary for hours watching the wind.
+
+"Well," said the C.O., "do this with me." With that he started marking
+time at a quick pace on the duckboards and I did likewise. We kept it
+up for about two minutes, while others near had a good laugh.
+
+"Now you feel better, I know. Do this every ten minutes or so," he
+said, and away he went to continue his tour of inspection.
+
+My Cockney pal in the next bay, who, I noticed, had enjoyed the scene
+immensely, said, "Blimey, Jock, was he giving you a few lessons in
+the sword dance or the Highland Fling?"--_"Jock" Walker (late Royal
+Fusiliers), 29 Brockbank Road, Lewisham, S.E.13._
+
+
+A Big Bone in the Soup
+
+In Baghdad, 1917, "Buzzer" Lee and I were told off to do "flying
+sentry" round the officers' lines from 3 to 5 a.m. Well, we commenced
+our duty, and Buzzer suggested we visit the mess kitchen to see all was
+well, and in case there was anything worth "knocking off" (as he called
+it) in the way of char or scran (tea or bread and butter).
+
+The mess kitchen was in darkness, and Buzzer began scrounging around.
+After a while he said: "I've clicked, mate! Soup in a dixie!" By the
+light of a match he found a cup, removed the dixie lid, and took a cup
+of the "soup."
+
+"We're in the market this time, mate," said Buzzer, and took out a
+cupful for me.
+
+"It don't taste like Wood's down the New Cut," I said, doubtfully.
+
+He dipped the cup again and exclaimed: "'Ere, I've fahnd a big bone!"
+
+It was a new broom-head, however; it had been left in the dixie to soak
+for the night!--_G. H. Griggs (late Somerset L.I.), 3 Ribstone Street,
+Hackney, E.9._
+
+
+"I Shall have to Change Yer!"
+
+In the Ypres Salient in July 1915 Headquarters were anxious to know
+which German regiment was facing us. An immense Cockney corporal, who
+was particularly good on patrol, was instructed to secure a prisoner.
+
+[Illustration: "I shall have to take yer aht to-night and change yer."]
+
+After a night spent in No Man's Land he returned at dawn with a
+capture, an insignificant little German, trembling with fear, who stood
+about five foot nothing.
+
+Lifting him on to the fire-step and eyeing him critically, the
+corporal thus addressed him: "You won't do for our ole man; I shall
+have to take yer aht to-night and change yer!"--_S. Back, Merriams
+Farm, Leeds, near Maidstone._
+
+
+Scots Reveille
+
+Ours was the only kilted battalion in the division, and our bagpipes
+were often the subject of many humorous remarks from the other
+regiments.
+
+[Illustration: "There goes them perishin' 'toobs' agin."]
+
+On one occasion, while we were out resting just behind the line at
+Château de la Haye, we were billeted opposite a London regiment. Very
+early in the morning the bagpipes would sound the Scottish reveille--a
+rather long affair compared with the usual bugle call--and it did not
+please our London friends to be awakened in this manner.
+
+One morning while I was on early duty, and just as the pipers were
+passing, a very dismal face looked out of a billet and announced to his
+pals inside, "There goes them perishin' 'toobs' again."--_Arthur R.
+Blampied, D.C.M. (late London Scottish), 47 Lyndhurst Avenue, Streatham
+Hill, S.W.2._
+
+
+In the Negative
+
+A battalion of the London Regiment had been having a particularly
+gruelling time in the trenches, but some of the men were cheered with
+thoughts of impending leave. In fact, permission for them to proceed
+home was expected at any moment.
+
+At this time the Germans started a "big push" in another sector, and
+all leave was suddenly cancelled.
+
+An N.C.O. broke the news to the poor unfortunates in the following
+manner: "All you blokes wot's going on leaf, ain't going on leaf,
+'cause you're unlucky."
+
+In spite of the great disappointment, this way of putting it amused
+even the men concerned. The real Cockney spirit!--_S. C., Brighton._
+
+
+"An' That's All that 'Appened"
+
+Before going up the line we were stationed at Etaples, and were
+rather proud of our cook-house, but one day the colonel told the
+sergeant-major that he had heard some of the most unparliamentary
+language he had ever heard in his life emanating from the cook-house.
+
+The sergeant-major immediately called at the cook-house to find out the
+cause of the trouble, but our Cockney cook was very indignant. "What,
+_me_ Lord Mayor? [slang for 'swear']. No one's ever 'eard me Lord
+Mayor."
+
+"Don't lie to me," roared the sergeant-major. "What's happened here?"
+
+"Nuffin'," said the cook, "except that I slopped a dixie full of 'ot
+tea dahn Bill's neck. I said 'Sorry, Bill,' and Bill said 'Granted,
+'Arry,' an' that's all what's 'appened."--_Ryder Davies (late 1st Kent
+Cyclists, Royal West Kents), 20 Villa Road, S.W.9._
+
+
+Watching them "Fly Past"
+
+Our first big engagement was a counter-attack to recapture the trenches
+lost by the K.R.R.'s and R.B.'s on July 30, 1915, when "Jerry" used
+liquid fire for the first time and literally burned our chaps out.
+
+To get into action we had to go across open country in full view of
+the enemy. We began to get it "in the neck" as soon as we got to "Hell
+Fire Corner," on our way to Zillebeke Lake. Our casualties were heavy,
+caused by shell fire, also by a German aeroplane which was flying very
+low overhead and using its machine gun on us.
+
+My pal, Wally Robins (later awarded M.M., promoted corporal, and killed
+at Lens), our company humorist, was looking up at the 'plane when a
+shell landed, killing several men in front of him.
+
+As he fell I thought he too had caught it. I rushed to him anxiously
+and said, "Are you hurt?"
+
+This was his reply: "I should think I am. I wish they would keep their
+bloomin' aeroplanes out of the way. If I hadn't been looking up at that
+I shouldn't have fallen over that blinkin' barbed wire stake."--_E. W.
+Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Battn., D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace Road,
+Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+High Necks and Low
+
+After the first Battle of Ypres in 1914 the Scots Guards were being
+relieved by a well-known London regiment.
+
+A diminutive Cockney looked up at a six-foot Guardsman and asked him
+what it was like in the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "'Oo's neck?"]
+
+"Up to your neck in mud," said the Guardsman.
+
+"Blimey, oo's neck?" asked the little chap.--_H. Rogers (late 116th
+Battery, 1st Div. R.F.A.), 10 Ashley Road, Richmond, Surrey._
+
+
+Too Light--by One Rissole
+
+During the night before my Division (21st) attacked, on October 4,
+1917, my unit was in the tunnel under the road at "Clapham Junction,"
+near Hooge.
+
+Rations having failed to arrive, each man was given a rissole and a
+packet of chewing-gum. We went over about 6 a.m., and, despite rather
+severe losses, managed to push our line forward about 1,300 yards.
+
+When we were back in "rest" dug-outs at Zillebeke, our officer
+happening to comment on our "feed" prior to the attack, my mate said:
+"Yus. Blinkin' good job for old Jerry we never had two rissoles a
+man--we might have shoved him back to Berlin!"--_C. Hartridge, 92
+Lancaster Street, S.E.1._
+
+
+Psyche--"at the Barf!"
+
+I was billeting at Witternesse, near Aire, for a battery coming out of
+the line for rest and training prior to the August 1918 push.
+
+I was very anxious to find a place where the troops could have a
+much-needed bath. The only spot was a barn, in which were two rusty old
+iron baths.
+
+Further inspection showed that one was in use. On being asked who he
+was, the occupant stood up and replied in a Cockney voice: "Sikey at
+the Barf!"--_H. Thomas, "Ivydene," Herne Grove, East Dulwich, S.E.22._
+
+
+A Juggler's Struggles
+
+We were disembarking at Ostend in 1914. Each man was expected to carry
+as much stores as he could. Our Cockney Marine was struggling down the
+gangway--full marching order, rifle slung round his neck, kitbag under
+his arm, and a box in each hand.
+
+As he balanced the boxes we heard him mutter, "S'pose, if I juggle this
+lot orlright they'll poke annuver in my mouf."--_Thomas Bilson (late
+Colour-Sergeant, Royal Marines), 56 The Strand, Walmer, Kent._
+
+
+Almost a Wireless Story
+
+Sir Sidney Lawford was to inspect our wagon lines in Italy, and we had
+received notice of his coming. Consequently we had been up since about
+5 a.m. making things ship-shape.
+
+One of the fatigues had been picking up all the spare wire lying
+about--wire from hay and straw bales, telephone wire, barbed wire, wire
+from broken hop poles, miscellaneous wire of all sorts.
+
+Sir Sidney Lawford arrived about 11 a.m. with a number of his staff,
+dismounted ... and promptly tripped over a piece of wire. Imagine
+our chagrin. However, the feeling passed away when a Cockney driver
+(evidently one of the wire-collecting fatigue) said in a voice audible
+to everyone as he peeped from under the horse he was supposed to be
+grooming: "Blimey, if he ain't fallen over the only piece of blinking
+wire in Italy!"--_F. Praid (late Lieut., R.F.A., 41st Div.), 88a High
+Street, Staines._
+
+
+When the S.M. Got Loose
+
+We were behind the lines at Merville in 1914. It was raining hard and
+it was night. "Smudger" Smith, from Lambeth, was on night guard. The
+horses were pulling their pegs out of the mud and getting loose, and
+"Smudger" was having a busy time running around and catching them and
+knocking the pegs in again with a mallet.
+
+[Illustration: "Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"]
+
+The sergeant-major, with a waterproof sheet over his head, visited the
+lines. "Smudger," seeing something moving about in the dark, crept up,
+and muttered, "Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"--and down went the
+sergeant-major.--_W.S. (late Queen's Bays), 2 Winsover Road, Spalding._
+
+
+Mons, 1914--Not Moscow, 1812!
+
+In 1914 we of the 2nd Cavalry Brigade were going up to support the
+infantry somewhere near Mons, and when nearing our destination we saw
+several wounded being carried from the line.
+
+Following them, seemingly quite unconcerned, was an infantry transport
+driver, who cut a queer figure. He was wearing a stocking hat, and was
+mounted on an old mule. Thrown over the mule, with the tail-end round
+the mule's neck, was a German's blood-bespattered overcoat.
+
+[Illustration: "Napoleon's retreat from Moscow ain't in it wiv this!"]
+
+One of our troop addressed the rider thus: "Many up there, mate?"
+
+He answered: "Millions! You 'ave a go. We can't shift 'em. They've took
+root, I fink."
+
+He then dug both heels into the mule and, looking round with a bored
+expression, exclaimed: "Talk about Napoleon's blinkin' retreat from
+Moscow, it ain't ruddy well in it wiv this!"
+
+And he rode on.--_W. Baker (late 3rd Hussars), 35 Tunstall Road,
+Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+The S.M. knew "Mulese"
+
+During the Somme offensive in 1916 I was one of a party carrying
+rations up to the front line. We came upon a mule which was having a
+few pranks and pulling the chap who was leading it all over the road.
+
+This man turned out to be an old Cockney pal of mine in the East
+Surreys. I said, "Hello, Jim, what's the matter?"
+
+"Blimey," he replied, "'e won't do nuffink for me, so I'm taking 'im
+back to our sergeant-major, as 'e talks the mule langwidge."--_C. A.
+Fairhead (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 16 Council Cottages, Ford Corner,
+Yapton, Sussex._
+
+
+Lost: One Star
+
+We were on our way to the front line trenches one wet and dreary night
+when our subaltern realised that we were lost. He asked our sergeant
+if he could see the North Star. My Cockney pal, fed up, as we all
+were, turned to me and said: "Pass the word back and ask if anyone 'as
+got a Nawth Star in his pocket."--_H. J. Perry, 42 Wells House Road,
+Willesden Junction, N.W.10._
+
+
+Simpler than Sounding It
+
+After leaving Gallipoli in December 1915 our battalion (4th Essex) were
+in camp near the pyramids in Egypt.
+
+"Pro Tem." we reverted to peace-time routine, and brought the
+buglers into commission again. One bugler was making a rather rotten
+show at sounding the "fall-in"--his "lip" being out of practice, I
+suppose--when a bored Cockney roared out, "Go rahnd and tell 'em."--_H.
+Barlow, 5 Brooklands, Abbs Cross Lane, Hornchurch._
+
+
+Under the Cart
+
+The place was a rest billet, which we had just reached after a
+gruelling on the Somme. Time, 12.30 a.m., dark as pitch and pouring
+with rain.
+
+A despatch-rider arrived with an "urgent" message from H.Q., "Must have
+the number of your water-cart."
+
+Out of bed, or its substitute, were brought the regimental
+sergeant-major, the orderly-room clerk, and the quartermaster-sergeant
+(a director of a London shipping firm bearing his name). All the
+light we had was the end of a candle, and as the Q.M.S. was crawling
+in the mud under the water-cart trying to find the number the candle
+flickered, whereupon the Cockney sergeant-major exclaimed: "For
+Heaven's sake, stop that candle from flickerin', or our blinkin' staff
+will think we're signalling to Jerry!"
+
+The look on the Q.M.S.'s face as he sat in the mud made even the soaked
+despatch-rider laugh.
+
+"What's the number of your water-cart?" became a byword with the
+boys.--_W. J. Smallbone (late R.M.S., 56th Field Ambulance, 18th
+Division), 22 Stoneycroft Road, Woodford Bridge, Woodford Green, Essex._
+
+
+The Lion Laughed up his Sleeve
+
+I had been driving a lorry all day in the East African bush with a
+Cockney escort. When we "parked" for the night I invited the escort to
+sleep under cover in the lorry, as I was going to do. But he refused,
+saying proudly that he had slept in the open since he had landed in
+Africa. So, undressing, he proceeded to make the rim of the rear wheel
+his pillow, covering himself with a blanket and greatcoat.
+
+About 1 a.m. I was awakened by hearing someone climbing over the
+tail-board. Responding to my challenge the Cockney said: "It's all
+right. The blighter's been and pinched my blanket and greatcoat. It's a
+good job I had my shirt on." We found next morning that a lion had run
+off with them: about 100 yards away they lay, and one sleeve was torn
+out of the coat.--_H. J. Lake, 40a Chagford Street, N.W.1._
+
+
+The Carman's Sarcasm
+
+While our allies, the Portuguese, were holding part of the line to the
+left of Festubert, a Portuguese officer rode up on the most emaciated
+and broken-down old "crock" I had set eyes on.
+
+He dismounted and was looking round for somewhere to tether the horse,
+when one of our drivers, a Cockney carman in "civvy" life, cast a
+critical eye over the mount and bawled out, "Don't worry abaht tying it
+up, mate. _Lean it up agin this 'ere fence._"--_A. G. Lodge (Sergeant,
+25th Division Artillery), 12 Derinton Road, S.W.17._
+
+
+Burying a Lorry
+
+During the Battle of the Somme, near Ginchy, a R.A.S.C. motor-lorry ran
+off the main track in the darkness and got stuck in the mud. The driver
+came to our battery near by and asked for help, so six gunners and I
+volunteered and set out with shovels.
+
+On arriving at the scene, there was the motor-lorry almost buried to
+the top of the wheels. We all stood around surveying the scene in
+silence, wondering how best to make a start, when the Cockney member
+of the volunteer party burst out with: "Lummy, the quickest way out of
+this is to shovel some more blinkin' dirt on top, an' bury it."--_H.
+Wright (ex-Sig./Bdr., C/74 Bde., R.F.A.), 45 Colehill Lane, Fulham,
+S.W.6._
+
+
+Striking a Bargain
+
+During the battle of the Narrows at the Dardanelles (March 18, 1915) I
+was in charge of No. 3 stokehold in H.M.S. _Vengeance_. The front line
+of ships engaged consisted of _Irresistible_, _Ocean_, _Vengeance_, and
+an old French battleship, the _Bouvet_. The stokers off watch were the
+ambulance party and fire brigade.
+
+[Illustration: "Give us yer week's 'navy' and I'll let yer aht."]
+
+When the battle was at its height one of the fire brigade, a Cockney,
+kept us informed of what was going on, and this is the news we received
+down the ash hoist:
+
+"_Ocean_ and _Irresistible_ 'as gorn darn, the Froggy's gone up in
+smoke: our blinkin' turn next.
+
+"Pat, give us yer week's 'navy' (rum ration) and I'll lift this
+bloomin' 'atch (armoured grating) and let yer aht!"--_"Ajax," 23 King's
+Drive, Gravesend, Kent._
+
+
+Bugling in 'Indoostanee
+
+After the evacuation of Gallipoli a transport was conveying British
+troops to Egypt.
+
+The O.C. wanted a trumpeter or bugler to follow him around during the
+daily lifeboat parade and to sound the "Dismiss" at the end. The only
+one available was an Indian trumpeter, who had not blown a trumpet or
+bugle since 1914. He was ordered for the duty.
+
+On the first day, immediately after the inspection was over, the
+O.C. gave orders for the trumpeter to sound the "Dismiss." After the
+trumpeter had finished, the O.C., with a look of astonishment on his
+face, gasped, "What's that? I never heard it sounded like that before."
+
+Came a Cockney voice from the rear rank, "'E sounded it in 'Indoostanee,
+sir."--_M. C., Surrey._
+
+
+"For 'eaven's sake, stop sniffin'!"
+
+Our sector of the line at Loos was anticipating a raid by the Germans
+and the whole battalion was ordered to "stand to" all night.
+
+Double sentries were posted at intervals of a few feet with orders to
+report any suspicious shadows in No Man's Land.
+
+All eyes and ears were strained in an effort to locate any movement in
+the darkness beyond the parapet.
+
+Strict silence was to be maintained, and the guns had been ordered to
+hang fire so that we might give the Germans a surprise welcome if they
+came over.
+
+The ominous stillness was broken at last by a young Cockney saying
+to his pal standing with him on the fire-step: "For 'Eaven's sake,
+stop sniffin', Porky. How d'yer fink we'll 'ear Jerry if he comes
+acrorst?"--_C. J. Blake, 29a Collingbourne Road, Shepherd's Bush, W.12._
+
+
+Babes in the Salonika Wood
+
+I was with the Salonika Force on the Dorian front. One night while
+an important raid was on my platoon was told off to seize a big wood
+between the lines and make sure it was clear of Bulgars, who could
+otherwise have enfiladed the main raiding party.
+
+The orders were "absolute silence, and no firing unless the other side
+fires first." I halted my men behind a fold in the ground near the wood
+and called up two men and told them to creep forward and see if the
+wood was occupied.
+
+It was nasty work as the first news of any Bulgars would almost
+certainly have been a bayonet in the back from somebody perfectly
+concealed behind a tree.
+
+I asked them if the instructions were quite clear and one of them,
+Charlie, from Limehouse, whispered back:
+
+"Yessir! We're going to be the Babes in the Wood, and if the Wicked
+Uncles is out to-night we don't fire unless they fires first. Come on,
+George (to his companion), there's going to be some dirty work for the
+Little Robin Redbreasts to-morrer!"--_A. Forsyth (late Army Cyclist
+Corps), 65 St. Martin's Lane, W.C.2._
+
+
+Bringing it Home to Him
+
+For several months in 1917 matches were rationed in a Y.M.C.A.
+rest-camp canteen, somewhere in France. There entered during this time
+a war-worn Cockney, a drawn, tired look still in his eyes, and the mud
+of the trenches on his uniform and boots. He asked for cigarettes and
+matches, and was told there were no matches.
+
+"Wot, no matches? 'Ow am I goin' ter light me fags, miss?"
+
+"You see matches are rationed now," I said, "and the few we are allowed
+run out at once."
+
+With a weary sigh, as if a great truth had dawned upon him, he said
+pathetically:
+
+"Lumme, that do bring the war 'ome to a bloke, don't it, miss?"--_Miss
+H. Campbell, Pennerly Lodge, Beaulieu, Hants._
+
+
+After the Feast
+
+The company dinner on Christmas Day 1917 was eaten in a large barn at
+Ribemont, on the Somme, and before this extra special feast began an
+affable "old sweat," one Billy Williams, of London Town, volunteered
+for the clearing-up party.
+
+It was a long sitting and some considerable time before the men began
+to wander back to their billets, and it fell to the most capable of the
+orderlies to clear up the debris.
+
+This had just been accomplished to the satisfaction of the orderly
+officer when out of the barn strode old Billy carrying a dixie full of
+beer. "Where are you going with that, Williams?" asked the officer.
+
+Springing smartly to attention, and with a pained look upon his face,
+old Billy replied: "This 'ere, sir? Sick man in the 'ut, sir!"--_R. E.
+Shirley (late The London Regiment), 5 Staunton Road, Kingston, Surrey._
+
+
+Wait for the "Two Pennies, Please"
+
+Near the River Struma, on the Salonika front, in March 1917 our brigade
+H.Q. was on the extreme right of the divisional artillery and near a
+French artillery brigade.
+
+For the purpose of maintaining communication a French telephonist was
+quartered in our dug-out. Whenever he wished to get into communication
+with his headquarters he unmercifully thumped the field telephone and
+in an excitable voice called out: "_'Ullo, mon capitaine_," five or six
+times in half as many seconds.
+
+Greatly impressed by one of these sudden outbursts, the adjutant's
+batman--a typical Cockney--exclaimed in a hurt voice: "Nah then, matey,
+jest cool yerself a bit till the young lidy tells yer to put in yer
+two coppers!"--_F. G. Pickwick (301 Brigade R.F.A.), 100 Hubert Grove,
+Stockwell, S.W.9._
+
+
+The General Goes Skating
+
+One horribly wet day during the winter of 1915 I met the Brigadier
+paying his morning visit to the front line and accompanied him along
+my section of the trench. Entering one fire-bay, the gallant General
+slipped and sat down uncommonly hard in the mud.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ere, chum, get up; this ain't a skatin' rink."]
+
+Discipline stifled any desire on my part for mirth, but to my horror,
+the sentry in that bay, without turning away from his periscope, called
+over his shoulder in unmistakable Cockney accents: "'Ere, chum, get up;
+this ain't a blinkin' skatin' rink!"
+
+Fortunately the General's sense of humour was equal to the occasion,
+and he replied to the now horror-stricken sentry with an affable
+"Quite."--_"Company Commander," Orpington, Kent._
+
+
+"To Top Things Up"
+
+During the early part of 1916 a few picked men from the North Sea Fleet
+were sent on a short tour of the Western Front to get an accurate
+idea of the work of the sister Service. One or two of these men were
+attached to my company for a few days in January when we were at
+Givenchy--a fairly lively spot at that time. The morning after their
+arrival there was some pretty heavy firing and bombing, which soon died
+down to normal.
+
+Later in the day, as I was passing down the line, I asked one of our
+guests (an out-and-out Londoner) what he thought of things. He shook
+his head mournfully. "I thought the blighters was coming over after all
+that gun-fire this morning, sir," he said. "I been in a naval action; I
+been submarined; I been bombed by aeroplanes; and, blimey, I did 'ope
+I'd be in a bay'nit charge, just to top things up."--_L. V. Upward
+(late Capt. R.N.), 14 Lyndhurst Road, Hampstead, N.W.3._
+
+
+Luck in the Family
+
+A cockney R.A.S.C. driver had been knocked down and badly injured by a
+staff-officer's car.
+
+On recovering consciousness in hospital, he highly amused the doctor
+by exclaiming, "Well, me gran'farver was kicked by a Derby winner, me
+farver knew Dr. Crippen, an' 'ere's me gets a blighty orf a brass-'at's
+Rolls-bloomin'-Royce. It's funny 'ow luck runs in famblys!"--_J. F. C.,
+Langdon Park Road, N. 6._
+
+
+"I'm Drownded"
+
+We were going into the line in front of Cambrai, in November 1917, and
+were walking in single file. The night was pitch black. Word came down
+at intervals from the leading file, "'Ware wire," "'Ware shell-hole."
+
+My pal, a Cockney, was in front of me. Suddenly I heard a muffled
+curse--he had deviated and paid the penalty by falling into a
+particularly deep shell-hole filled with mud and water.
+
+I stumbled to the edge of the hole and peered down and saw his face. I
+asked him if he was all right, and back came the reply, "Blimey, I'm
+drownded, so let the missus know I died like a sailor."
+
+Three days later he did die ... like a soldier.--_Ex-Rfn. John S.
+Brown, 94 Masterman Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+Not a New World's Wonder
+
+The regiment had reached Hebuterne after marching from St. Amand, and a
+party of us was detailed to carry stuff up to the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "There's only seven wonders."]
+
+One of our number, a hefty Cockney, besides being in full marching
+order, had a bag of bombs and a couple of screw pickets. A sergeant
+then handed him some petrol tins. With a look of profound disgust, the
+Cockney dropped the tins and remarked, "Chuck it, mate; there's only
+seven wonders in this blinkin' world."--_W. G. H. Cox (late 16th London
+Regt.), 9 Longstaff Crescent, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+Lads of the Village
+
+While en route from the Western to the Italian front we were held up at
+an Italian wayside station and, hearing that we had some time to wait,
+our cook says, "Nah's our chance to make some tea."
+
+So we dragged our boiler on to the end of the platform, scrounged some
+wood, and soon had the fire going and the water on the boil. "Nah we
+will get the tea and sugar," says the cook. When we returned we found
+that the chimney of the boiler had disappeared, smoke and flames were
+roaring up, and the water was ruined by soot.
+
+An Italian soldier was standing by, looking on. "Somebody's pinched our
+chimbley," gasped the cook, "and I've got an idea that this Italian
+fellow knows somefing abaht it."
+
+Back came the reply from the Italian, in pure Cockney: "I ain't pinched
+yer chimbley, mate!"
+
+"What! yer speak our lingo?" says the cook. "What part of the Village
+do yer come from?"
+
+"Clerkenwell," was the reply.
+
+"Give us yer mitt," says the cook. "I'm from the same parish. And nah
+I knows that yer couldn't 'ave pinched our chimbley. It must have been
+one of them scrounging Cockneys."--_H. Howard, 26 Hanover Street,
+Islington, N.1._
+
+
+Before 1914, When Men Worked
+
+Night after night, for three weeks, with never a night off, we took
+ammunition up for the guns at Ypres in 1917. Sometimes we couldn't get
+back until 5 a.m. or 6 a.m.--and the day was spent feeding and grooming
+the horses, cleaning harness, and a hundred odd jobs besides.
+
+We had built a bit of a shack, and in this I was writing a letter home,
+and one of my drivers noticed my handwriting on the envelope.
+
+"Coo, Corp! You can't 'arf write! 'Ow did yer learn it?" he said.
+
+I told him I had been in an insurance office before I joined up.
+
+"Lumme!" he exclaimed, "did yer _work_ once, Corp?"--_David Phillips
+(late R.F.A.), The Ship Inn, Soham, near Ely, Cambridgeshire._
+
+
+Their Fatigue
+
+In August 1915, our Division was moved to the Loos area in preparation
+for the battle which began on September 25, and I well remember the
+long march which brought us to our destination--the mining village of
+Noeux-les-Mines, about a mile from Mazingarbe.
+
+We ended the hard and tiring journey at a spot where a huge slag-heap
+towered above our heads to a height of seventy or eighty feet. On our
+arrival here there were the usual fatigue parties to parade, and with
+everyone tired and weary this was an unthankful duty.
+
+The youngest Cockney in my section, who was always cheerful, hearing
+me detailing men for fatigue, shouted out, "Come on, mites; paride
+with spoons and mess-tins. The blinking fattygue party will shift this
+perishin' slag-heap from 'ere to Mazingarbe."--_Herbert W. Bassett
+(Cpl. attached 47th London Division), 41 Argyle Road, Sevenoaks, Kent._
+
+
+Teaching Bulgars the Three-card Trick
+
+At Butkova, on the right of Lake Doiran, in 1917, we had surprised the
+Bulgar and had pushed forward as far as the foot of the Belashitsa
+Mountains, the reserve position of the enemy.
+
+After a sharp encounter we retired, according to plan, and on the
+return to our lines we heard murmurings in a nullah to our right.
+
+[Illustration: "Find der lidy--dere you are--over yer go--under yer
+go--nah find 'er!"]
+
+Motioning to me and the section corporal, our platoon commander
+advanced cautiously towards the nullah and you can imagine our surprise
+when we discovered "Dido" Plumpton calmly showing the "three-card
+trick" to the two Bulgar prisoners he had been detailed to escort. He
+was telling his mystified audience: "Find der lidy--dere you are--over
+yer go--under yer go--_nah_ find 'er!"--_Alfred Tall (late 2nd East
+Kents), 204 Hoxton Street, N.1._
+
+
+
+
+3. HOSPITAL
+
+
+"Tich" Meets the King
+
+In a large ward in a military hospital in London there was a little
+Cockney drummer boy of eighteen years who had lost both legs from
+shell fire. In spite of his calamity and the suffering he endured
+from numerous operations for the removal of bone, he was one of the
+cheeriest boys in the ward.
+
+At that time many men in the ward had limbs amputated because of
+frost-bite, and it was quite a usual thing for a visitor to remark,
+"Have you had frost-bite?"
+
+Nothing made Tich so furious as the suggestion that he should have lost
+his limbs by any, to his mind, second-rate way. If he were asked, "Have
+you had frost-bite?" he would look up with disgust and reply, "Naow---a
+flea bit me!" If, however, he was asked, "Were you wounded?" he would
+smile and say, "Not 'arf!"
+
+A visit was expected from the King, and the Tommies kept asking Tich
+what he would say if the King said, "Have you had frost-bite?" "You
+wite!" said Tich.
+
+I was standing with the Sister near to Tich in his wheel-chair when the
+King approached. His Majesty at once noticed Tich was legless, and said
+in his kind way, "Well, my man, how are you getting on?"
+
+"Splendid, sir!" said Tich.
+
+"How did it happen?" asked the King.
+
+"Wounded, sir--shell," replied Tich, all smiles.
+
+Tich's opinion of the King soared higher than ever.---_M. A. Kennedy
+(late V.A.D., Royal Military Hospital, Woolwich), 70 Windmill Hill,
+Enfield, Middlesex._
+
+
+Putting the Lid on It
+
+It was "clearing day" at the 56th General Hospital, Wimereux. Nurses
+and orderlies were having a busy morning getting ready the patients who
+were going to Blighty. Nearly all of them had been taken out to the
+waiting ambulances except my Cockney friend in the bed next to mine,
+who had just had an arm amputated and was very ill.
+
+Two orderlies came down the ward bearing a stretcher with an oblong box
+fixed on to it (to prevent jolting while travelling). They placed it
+beside my friend's bed, and, having dressed him, put him in the box on
+the stretcher. Then a nurse wrapped him up in blankets, and after she
+had finished she said: "There you are. Feeling nice and comfortable?"
+
+"Fine," said he, "but don't put the lid on before I have kissed the
+orderly good-bye."--_E. C., Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Riddled in the Sands
+
+One of the finest exhibitions of Cockney spirit I saw during the war
+occurred in Mesopotamia after the Battle of Shaiba (April 1915), in
+which we had completely routed the Turkish army.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full of holes
+I'd be sure to sink."]
+
+We were busy evacuating the wounded in boats across the six-mile
+stretch of water which separated us from Basra. A sergeant who had
+been hit by no fewer than six machine-gun bullets was brought down in
+a stretcher to be put in one of the boats. As I superintended this
+manoeuvre he said to me: "Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full
+of holes I'd be sure to sink!"--_F. C. Fraser (Lieut.-Col., Ind. Med.
+Service), 309 Brownhill Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+Season!
+
+A cockney soldier, badly hit for the third time, was about to be
+carried once more on board the ambulance train at Folkestone. When the
+bearers came to his stretcher, one said to the other, "What's it say on
+his ticket?"
+
+"Season!" said a voice from the stretcher.--_Rev. A. T. Greenwood,
+Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+Where's the Milk and Honey?
+
+A medical Officer of a London division in Palestine was explaining to
+a dying Cockney in his field ambulance at Bethlehem how sorry he was
+that he had no special comforts to ease his last moments, when the man,
+with a cheery grin, remarked: "Oh, that's all right, sir. Yer reads as
+'ow this 'ere 'Oly Land is flowing with milk and 'oney; but I ain't
+seen any 'oney myself, and in our battery there's 15 men to a tin o'
+milk."--_E. T. Middleton, 32 Denmark Road, West Ealing, W.13._
+
+
+"Lunnon"
+
+He was my sergeant-major. Having on one occasion missed death literally
+by inches, he said coolly: "Them blighters can't 'it 'arf as smart as
+my missus when she's roused." I last saw him at Charing Cross Station.
+We were both casualties. All the way from Dover he had moaned one
+word--"Lunnon." At Charing Cross they laid his stretcher beside mine.
+He was half conscious. Suddenly he revived and called out, his voice
+boyish and jolly: "Good 'ole Charin' Crawss," and fell back dead.--_G.
+W. R., Norwich, Norfolk._
+
+
+Sparing the M.O.
+
+It was during some open warfare in France. The scene a small room full
+of badly wounded men; all the remainder have been hurriedly removed,
+or rather, not brought in here. There are no beds; the men lie on the
+floor close together.
+
+I rise to stretch my back after dressing one. My foot strikes another
+foot. A yell of agony--the foot was attached to a badly shattered thigh.
+
+An insistent, earnest chorus: "You _didn't_ 'urt him, sir. 'E often
+makes a noise like that."
+
+I feel a hand take mine, and, looking down, I see it in the grasp of a
+man with three gaping wounds. "It _wasn't_ your fault, sir," he says,
+in a fierce, hoarse whisper.
+
+And then I realise that not a soul in that room but takes it for
+granted that my mental anguish for my stupidity is greater than his own
+physical pain, and is doing his best to deaden it for me--one, at any
+rate, at great cost to himself.
+
+In whose ranks are the world's great gentlemen?--_"The Clumsy Fool,"
+Guy's Hospital, E.C._
+
+
+"Robbery with Violence"
+
+A Cockney soldier had his leg shattered. When he came round in hospital
+the doctors told him they had been obliged to take his leg off.
+
+"Taken my leg off? Blimey! Where is it? Hi, wot yer done wiv it? Fer
+'Eaven's sake, find my leg, somebody; it's got seven and a tanner in
+the stocking."--_S. W. Baker, 23 Trinity Road, Bedford._
+
+
+Seven His Lucky Number
+
+Scene: the plank road outside St. Jean. Stretcher-bearers bringing down
+a man whose left leg had been blown away below the knee. A man coming
+up recognises the man on the stretcher, and the following conversation
+ensues:
+
+"Hello, Bill!" Then, catching sight of the left leg: "Blimey! You ain't
+'arf copped it."
+
+The Reply: A faint smile, a right hand feebly pointing to the left
+sleeve already bearing _six_ gold stripes, and a hoarse voice which
+said, "Anuvver one, and seven's me lucky number."--_S. G. Wallis
+Norton, Norton House, Peaks Hill, Purley._
+
+
+Blind Man's Buff
+
+The hospital ship _Dunluce Castle_, on which I was serving, was taking
+the wounded and sick from Gallipoli. Among the wounded brought on board
+one evening was a man who was badly hurt about his face. Our M.O.
+thought the poor chap's eyes were sightless.
+
+Imagine our surprise when, in the morning, finding that his eyes were
+bandaged, he pulled himself to a sitting posture in bed, turned his
+head round and cried out, "S'y, boys, who's fer a gime of blind man's
+buff?"
+
+I am glad to say that the sight of one eye was saved.--_F. T. Barley,
+24, Station Avenue, Prittlewell, Southend._
+
+
+Self-Supporting
+
+After being wounded at Ypres in July 1917, I was being sent home. When
+we were all aboard, an orderly came round with life-belts.
+
+When he got to the next stretcher to me, on which lay a man who had
+his arm and leg in splints, he asked the usual question ("Can you
+look after yourself if anything happens going across?"), and received
+the faint answer: "Lumme, mate, I've enough wood on me to make a
+raft."--_A. E. Fuller (36th Battery R.F.A.), 21 Pendragon Road, Downham
+Estate, Bromley._
+
+
+In the Butterfly Division
+
+On arriving at the hospital at Dames Camiers, we were put to bed. In
+the next bed to mine was a young Cockney who had lost three fingers of
+his right hand and his left arm below the elbow.
+
+The hospital orderly came to take particulars of our wounds, etc.
+Having finished with me, he turned to the Cockney. Rank, name, and
+regimental number were given, and then the orderly asked, "Which
+division are you from?"
+
+"Why, the 19th," came the answer; and then, as an afterthought, "that's
+the butterfly division, yer know, but I've 'ad me blinkin' wings
+clipped."--_H. Redford (late R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+An Unfair Leg-Pull
+
+I was working in a surgical ward at a base hospital, and among the
+patients was a Tommy with a fractured thigh-bone. He had his leg in a
+splint and, as was customary in these cases, there was an extension at
+the foot-piece with a heavy weight attached to prevent shortening of
+the leg.
+
+This weight was causing him a good deal of pain, and as I could
+do nothing to alleviate it I asked the M.O. to explain to him the
+necessity for the extension. He did so and ended up by saying, "You
+know, we want your leg to be straight, old man."
+
+The Tommy replied: "Wot's the good of making that leg strite w'en
+the uvver one's bowed?"--_Muriel A. Batey (V.A.D. Nurse), The North
+Cottage, Adderstone Crescent, Newcastle-upon-Tyne._
+
+
+He Saw It Through
+
+In the big general hospital at Colchester the next bed to mine was
+occupied by a typical Cockney who was very seriously wounded. It was
+little short of marvellous that he was alive at all.
+
+Early one morning he became so ill that the hospital chaplain was sent
+to administer the Last Sacrament and the little Londoner's parents were
+telegraphed for.
+
+About nine o'clock he rallied a little, and apparently realised that
+the authorities had given him up as hopeless, for with a great effort
+he half-sat up and, with his eyes ablaze, cried: "Wot? You fink I'm
+goin' ter die? Well, you're all wrong! I've bin in this war since it
+started, an' I intends to be in it at the finish. So I just _won't_
+die, to spite yer, see?"
+
+His unconquerable spirit pulled him through, and he is alive--and
+well--to-day!--_A. C. P. (late 58th (London) Division), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+As Good as the Pictures
+
+In Salonika during 1916 I was taken to a field hospital, en route for
+the Base Hospital.
+
+All merry and bright when lying down, but helpless when perpendicular,
+was a comrade in the next bed to me. We were to be moved next day.
+
+I was interested in him, as he told me he belonged to "Berm-on-Sea,"
+which happens to be my birth-place. Well, close to our marquee were
+the dump and transport lines, which we could plainly see through the
+entrance to the marquee.
+
+Sister was taking our temperatures when we heard an explosion. Johnnie
+had "found" the dump. An officer ran through the marquee, ordering
+everyone to the dug-outs, and they promptly obeyed.
+
+I looked at Bermondsey Bill. He said: "We are beat. Let's stop and
+watch the fireworks."
+
+We were helpless on our feet. I tried to walk, but had to give it
+up. A new commotion then began, and Bill exclaimed: "Blimey, 'ere
+comes Flying Fox rahnd Tattenham Corner." It was a badly-wounded and
+panic-stricken mule. It dashed through our marquee, sent Sister's table
+flying, found the exit and collapsed outside.
+
+Sister returned (she was the right stuff) and said: "Hello, what's
+happened here? And you boys still in bed! Hadn't you better try and get
+to the dug-outs?"
+
+Bermondsey Bill said: "We'll stick it aht nah, Sister, an' fancy we're
+at the pictures."--_J. W. Fairbrass, 131 Sutton Dwellings, Upper
+Street, Islington, N.1._
+
+
+Room for the Comforter
+
+At Etaples in 1916 I was in a hospital marquee with nothing worse than
+a sprained ankle. A Y.M.C.A. officer was visiting us, giving a cheery
+word here and there, together with a very welcome packet of cigarettes.
+
+In the next cot to me was a young Cockney of the "Diehards," who had
+been well peppered with shrapnel. His head was almost entirely swathed
+in bandages, openings being left for his eyes, nose, and mouth.
+
+"Well, old chap," said the good Samaritan to him, "they seem to have
+got you pretty badly."
+
+"I'm all right, guv'nor--ser long as they leaves me an 'ole to put
+me fag in."--_A. E. Jeffreys (late 4th Q.O. Hussars), 24 Byne Road,
+Sydenham, S.E. 26._
+
+
+"War Worn and Tonsillitis"
+
+My son, Gunner E. Smith (an "Old Contemptible"), came home on leave in
+September 1918, and after a day or two had something wrong with his
+throat. I advised him to see the M.O.
+
+He went and came back saying, "Just look at this." The certificate said
+"War worn and tonsillitis."
+
+He went to the hospital, and was kept in for three weeks. The first
+time I went to see him, he said, "What do you think of it? A 1914 man,
+and knocked over by a kid's complaint."--_F. Smith, 23 Saunders Road,
+Plumstead, S.E.18._
+
+
+"... Fort I was in 'Ell"
+
+It was at the American General Hospital in Rouen. There was the usual
+noise created by chaps under anesthetic, swearing, shouting, singing,
+and moaning; but the fellow in the next bed to me had not stirred since
+they had brought him from the operating theatre many hours before.
+
+Suddenly he sat up, looked around him in amazement, and said, "Strike,
+I've bin a-lying 'ere fer abaht two 'ours afraid ter open me peepers.
+I fort I was in 'ell."--_P. Webb (late E. Surreys), 68 Rossiter Road,
+Balham, S.W.12._
+
+
+Pity the Poor Fly!
+
+Amongst my massage patients at one of the general hospitals was a very
+cheery Cockney sergeant, who had been badly damaged by shrapnel. In
+addition to other injuries he had lost an eye.
+
+One morning he was issued with a new eye, and was very proud of it.
+After admiring himself in a small mirror for a considerable time he
+turned to me and said, "Sister, won't it be a blinkin' sell for the fly
+who gets into my glass eye?"--_(Mrs.) A. Powell, 61 Ritherdon Road,
+S.W.17._
+
+
+Temperature by the Inch
+
+I was a patient in a general hospital in 1918, when a Cockney gunner
+was put into the bed next to mine. He was suffering from a severe form
+of influenza, and after ten days' treatment showed little sign of
+improvement.
+
+One evening the Sister was going her rounds with the thermometers.
+She had taken our friend's temperature and registered it on the chart
+hanging over his head. As she passed to the next bed he raised himself
+and turned round to read the result. Then he looked over to a Canadian
+in a bed in the far corner of the ward, and this dialogue ensued:
+
+Gunner: Canada!
+
+Canadian: Hallo!
+
+Gunner: Up agin.
+
+Canadian: Go on! How much?
+
+Gunner: 'Arf inch.--_E. A. Taylor (late 4th London Field Ambulance),
+Drouvin, The Chase, Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+"'Arf Price at the Pickshers!"
+
+On the way across Channel with a Blighty in 1917 I chummed up with a
+wounded Cockney member of the Sussex. His head was swathed in bandages.
+
+"Done one o' me eyes in altergevver," he confided lugubriously. "Any
+blinkin' 'ow," he added in cheerier tones, "if that don't entitle a
+bloke to 'arf price at the pickshers fer the rest of 'is blinkin'
+natural I don't know wot will do!"--_James Vance Marshall, 15, Manette
+Street, W.1._
+
+
+Twenty-four Stitches in Time
+
+During the 1918 reverses suffered by the Turks on various fronts large
+numbers of mules were captured and sent to the veterinary bases to be
+reconditioned, sorted, and shod, for issue to various units in need of
+them. It was no mean feat to handle and shoe the worst-tempered brutes
+in the world. They had been made perfect demons through privation.
+
+"Ninty," a shoeing-smith (late of Grange Road, Bermondsey), was laid
+out and savaged by a mule, and carried off to hospital. At night his
+bosom pal goes over to see how his "old china" is going on.
+
+"'Ow are ye, Ninty?"
+
+"Blimey, Ted, nineteen stitches in me figh an' five in me ribs.
+Ted--wot d'ye reckon they done it wiv? A sewin' machine?"--_A. C.
+Weekley (late Farrier Staff Sergeant, 20th Veterinary Hospital,
+Abbassair), 70 Denbigh Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+His Second Thoughts
+
+A Bluejacket who was brought into the Naval Hospital at Rosyth had had
+one of his legs blown off while he was asleep in his hammock. The late
+Mr. Thomas Horrocks Oppenshaw, the senior surgeon-in-charge, asked him
+what his first thought was when the explosion woke him up.
+
+"My first thought was 'Torpedoed, by gum!'"
+
+"And what did you think next?"
+
+"I think what I thought next was 'Ruddy good shot!'"--_H.R.A., M.D.,
+llford Manor, near Lewes, Sussex._
+
+
+Hats Off to Private Tanner
+
+The following story, which emphasises the Cockney war spirit in
+the most adverse circumstances, and how it even impressed our late
+enemy, was related to me by a German acquaintance whose integrity is
+unimpeachable.
+
+It was at a German prisoner-of-war clearing station in Douai during the
+summer of 1917, where wounded British prisoners were being cleared for
+prison-camp hospital.
+
+A number of wounded of a London regiment has been brought in, and
+a German orderly was detailed to take their names and particulars
+of wounds, etc. Later, looking over the orderly's list, the German
+sergeant-major in charge came across a name written by the orderly
+which was quite unintelligible to the sergeant-major.
+
+He therefore requested an intelligence officer, who spoke perfect
+English, to ask this particular man his name. The intelligence officer
+sought out the man, a Cockney, who had been severely wounded, and the
+following conversation took place.
+
+I.O.: You are Number ----?
+
+Cockney: Yussir.
+
+I.O.: What is your name?
+
+Cockney: Fourpence'a'penny.
+
+I.O.: I understand this is a term of English money, not a name.
+
+Cockney: Well, sir, I used to be called Tanner, but my right leg was
+took orf yesterday.
+
+The final words of the intelligence officer, as related to me, were:
+"I could have fallen on the 'begrimed ruffian hero's' neck and kissed
+him."--_J. W. Rourke, M.C. (ex-Lieut. Essex Regt.), 20 Mill Green Road,
+Welwyn Garden City._
+
+
+The Markis o' Granby
+
+Wounded at Sheria, Palestine, in November 1917. I was sent to the
+nearest railhead in a motor-ambulance. A fellow-passenger--also from a
+London battalion--was wounded very badly in both thighs. The orderly
+who tucked him up on his stretcher before the start asked him if he
+would like a drink.
+
+"No, thanks, chum--not nah," he replied; "but you might arsk the driver
+to pull up at the ole Markis o' Granby, and we'll all 'ave one!"
+
+I heard later that he died in hospital.--_C. Dickens (late 2/20th
+London Regiment), 18 Wheathill Road, Anerley, S.E.20._
+
+
+A One-Legged Turn
+
+Wounded about half an hour after the final attack on Gaza, I awoke to
+consciousness in the M.O.'s dug-out.
+
+"Poor old concert party," he said; "you're the fifth 'Ragamuffin' to
+come down."
+
+Eventually I found myself sharing a mule-cart with another wounded man,
+but he lay so motionless and quiet that I feared I was about to journey
+from the line in a hearse.
+
+The jolting of the cart apparently jerked a little life into him,
+for he asked me, "Got a fag, mate?" With a struggle I lighted my one
+remaining cigarette.
+
+After a while I asked him, "Where did you catch it, old fellow?"
+"Lumme," he replied, "if it ain't old George's voice." Then I
+recognised Sam, the comedian of our troupe.
+
+"Got it pretty rotten in the leg," he added.
+
+"Will it put paid to your comedy act, Sammy?" I asked.
+
+"Dunno," he replied with a sigh in his voice--"I'm tryin' to fink 'art
+a one-legged step dance."--_G. W. Turner (late 11th London Regt.), 10
+Sunny View, Kingsbury, N.W.9._
+
+
+
+
+4. HIGH SEAS
+
+
+The Skipper's Cigar
+
+Bradley (a Deptford flower-seller before joining up) was the "comic" of
+the stokers' mess deck.
+
+He was always late in returning from shore leave. One Monday morning
+he returned half an hour "adrift," and was promptly taken before the
+skipper.
+
+The skipper, a jovial old sort, asked him his reason for being adrift
+again, and Bradley replied:
+
+"Well, sir, Townsend and me were waiting for the liberty boat, and I
+was telling him that if ever I sees the skipper round Deptford I'll let
+him 'ave a 'bob' bunch of flowers for a 'tanner,' and we looked round
+and the blinkin' boat was gorne."
+
+The skipper smiled and dismissed him. On Christmas Day Bradley received
+a packet containing a cigar in it, with the following written on the
+box:
+
+"For the best excuse of the year.--F. H. C., Capt."
+
+I saw Bradley three years ago and he told me he still had that cigar in
+a glass case with his medals.--_F. H. (late Stoker, R.N.), 18 Little
+Ilford Lane, Manor Park, E.12._
+
+
+Breaking the Spell
+
+We were in a twelve-inch gun turret in a ship during the Dogger Bank
+action. The ship had been hit several times and big explosions had
+scorched the paint and done other damage. There came a lull in the
+firing, and with all of us more or less badly shaken there was a queer
+silence. Our captain decided to break it. Looking round at the walls
+of the turret he remarked in a Cockney, stuttering voice: "Well, lads,
+this blinking turret couldn't 'arf do with a coat of paint."--_J. Bone,
+84 Victoria Road, Surbiton._
+
+
+A V.C.'s Story of Friendship
+
+A transport packed with troops and horses for the Dardanelles was
+suddenly hailed by a German cruiser and the captain was given a few
+minutes in which to abandon ship.
+
+One young soldier was found with his arms round his horse's neck,
+sobbing bitterly, and when ordered to the boats he stubbornly refused
+to move. "Where my white-faced Willie goes _I_ goes," he said proudly.
+
+His loyalty to his dumb friend was rewarded, for the German cruiser
+fired twice at the transport, missed each time, and before a third
+effort British destroyers were on the scene to chase her away. It
+was then the young soldier had the laugh over his friends, for they
+in many cases arrived back on the ship half frozen and soaked to the
+skin!--_A Colonel, who wishes to remain anonymous: he holds the V.C.,
+D.S.O., and M.C._
+
+
+The Stoker Sums it Up
+
+I was on a large transport (normally a freighter), which had just
+arrived at a port on the East African coast, very rusty, and with a
+very un-naval-looking crew. We were taken in charge by a very small but
+immaculate gun-boat.
+
+Orders were shouted to us by megaphone, and our men were leaning over
+the side watching the gun-boat rather enviously, when a Poplar stoker
+came up from below for a "breather," and summed up his mates' feelings
+in eight words.
+
+[Illustration: "Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?"]
+
+Cupping his hands about his mouth, he shouted in a voice of thunder:
+"_Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?_"--_R. N. Spence (late Lieutenant,
+R.N.V.R.), 214 Croydon Road, Beckenham._
+
+
+Channel Swimming his Next Job
+
+During the war I had to fly a machine over to France. I had as
+passenger a Cockney Tommy who had recently transferred from the
+infantry to the R.F.C., and was joining his unit overseas.
+
+Half-way over the Channel my engine failed and I glided down towards
+the nearest boat I could see. The landing was not very successful; the
+under-carriage struck the crest of a wave and the aeroplane hit the
+water almost vertically.
+
+We were both thrown out, my passenger being somewhat badly knocked
+about in the process. We clung to the almost submerged wreckage and
+gazed hopefully towards the vessel I had sighted. She continued on her
+course, however.
+
+[Illustration: "I know me way across nah!"]
+
+The machine soon sank and we were left bobbing about in our life-belts.
+Things began to look far from bright, especially as my Cockney observer
+was in a pretty bad way by now. Suddenly the sun broke through the
+clouds, and the white cliffs of Grisnez, about eight miles away, stood
+out clearly.
+
+"What's them hills, sir?" asked Tommy.
+
+"Cape Grisnez, where Burgess landed after his Channel swim," I replied.
+
+"Blimey," he said, "if we ever gets out of this perishing mess, and I
+can't get me old job back after the war, I'll be a blooming Channel
+swimmer. I know the ruddy way across nah."--_"Pilot R.F.C.," London,
+W.1._
+
+
+It _Was_ a Collapsible Boat
+
+I was one of the survivors of the transport ship _Leasowe Castle_.
+Just before she took her final plunge, I was standing on deck when an
+empty boat was seen drifting near by. Our section officer called for
+swimmers, and five or six men went overboard in a jiffy and brought the
+boat alongside.
+
+There was a bit of a scuffle to get over the rail and into the boat,
+and one man jumped straight into her from a height of about thirty
+feet. To our dismay he went clean through--it was a collapsible boat!
+
+No sooner had this happened than a typical Cockney voice said: "Blimey,
+he's got the anchor in his pocket, I'll bet yer!"--_G. P. Gregory (late
+272 M.G. Company), 107 Tunkar Street, Greenwich._
+
+
+Luck in Odd Numbers
+
+We were on board H.M.S. _Sharpshooter_, doing patrol off the Belgian
+coast. The signalman on watch, who happened to be a Cockney, suddenly
+yelled out: "Aeroplane on the starboard bow, sir."
+
+The "old man," being fairly tired after a night of rain, said: "All
+right, it's only a friendly going back home."
+
+About two minutes later the plane dropped three bombs, the last of
+which was much too close to be comfortable.
+
+After our friend the signalman had wiped the splash off his face he
+turned round to the First Lieutenant and casually remarked: "Strike!
+It's a thundering good job he wasn't hostile or he might have hit
+us."--_R. Walmsley, D.S.M., 47 Watcombe Road, South Norwood, S.E.25._
+
+
+"Your Barf, Sir!"
+
+We were a mixed crowd on board the old _Archangel_ returning "off
+leave" from Southampton to Havre on the night of January 6, 1917. The
+sea was calm, and a moon made conditions ideal for Jerry's "skimmers."
+
+When we were well under way I chummed up with a typical son of the Mile
+End Road, one of the Middlesex men, and we talked for some time whilst
+watching the long, white zig-zag wake.
+
+Then he suggested looking for a "kip." After nosing around several dark
+corners, a strip of carpet along the alley between the first-class
+cabins appealed to us, and quietly unslinging kit and putting our packs
+for a pillow, we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. During the
+process my pal jerked his thumb towards the closed doors and whispered
+"Orficers."
+
+How long we had been asleep I don't know, but we were rudely awakened
+by a dull booming thud and a sound of splintering wood, and at the same
+time we were jolted heavily against the cabins. We hurriedly scrambled
+to our feet, looked at each other (no need to ask what had happened!),
+then grabbed our kit and made for the deck.
+
+As my companion passed the last cabin he banged on the door with his
+fist and called out: "Oi, yer barf'll be ready in a minute, sir!"--_A.
+E. Ulyett, 41 Smith Terrace, King's Road, Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+"Mind My Coat"
+
+Middle watch, H.M.S. _Bulldog_ on patrol off the Dardanelles: a dirty
+and a black night. A shout of "Man overboard!" from the fore-gun
+crew.... We located an A.B. in the water, and with a long boat-hook
+caught his coat and pulled him towards the boat. As he drew nearer he
+cried: "Don't pull so bloomin' hard; you'll tear my blinkin' coat!"
+
+Then we knew it was our "Ginger," from Poplar. Now "Ginger" has the
+life-saving medal. A few weeks after his ducking the ship struck a
+mine and the after-part went west: "Ginger" was discovered in the
+water, having gone in after a wounded sub-lieutenant who had been blown
+overboard.--_Henry J. Wood, D.S.M., 19 Gracechurch Street, E.C.3._
+
+
+"Wot's the Game--Musical Chairs?"
+
+It was a bitterly cold day in December, somewhere in the North Sea.
+A section of mine-sweepers were engaged clearing an area well sown
+by Jerry's submarines. Suddenly the expected happened, and in a few
+minutes one of the sweepers was settling down fast by the stern.
+
+Those who did not "go west" in the explosion were with difficulty
+picked up; among them was a Cockney stoker rating. He arrived on board,
+wet, cold, and pretty well "pumped," and the bo'sun's peg of rum had
+almost disappeared between his chattering teeth when there was another
+explosion, and once again he was in a sinking ship.
+
+His reply to the order "abandon ship," which he had heard for
+the second time within half an hour, was: "Wot blinkin' game's
+this--musical chairs?"--_H. Waterworth, 32 Grasmere Road, Muswell Hill,
+N.10 (late Engineer-Lieutenant, R.N.R. (retired))._
+
+
+A Voice in the Dark
+
+Dawn of a day in March 1917 found Submarine F3 on patrol near the
+Terschelling lightship. As we broke surface two German destroyers were
+seen only a few hundred yards away. We immediately dived again, and
+shortly afterwards the depth charges began to explode. Lower and lower
+we went until we touched the bottom.
+
+Bangs to the right of us, bangs to the left of us, bangs above us--then
+one glorious big bang and out went the lights.
+
+Deadly silence, and then out of the darkness came the voice
+of our Battersea bunting-tosser--"Anyone got six pennorth o'
+coppers?"--_Frederick J. H. Alsford, 78 North Street, S.W.4._
+
+
+Why the Stoker Washed
+
+H.M.Q. ship 18 was sinking sixty miles off the French coast as the
+result of gun-fire, after destroying a German submarine.
+
+After getting away we had a hurried call-over and found that a Cockney
+fireman was missing. We hailed the ship which seemed about to take the
+plunge any minute, and at last the stoker appeared, spotlessly clean
+and dressed in "ducks."
+
+He had to jump and swim for it. As we hauled him to our boat we asked
+him why he had waited to clean himself.
+
+"Well," he explained, "if I am going to hell there's no need to let the
+blighter know I'm a stoker."--_Wm. C. Barnaby (late Chief Coxswain,
+R.N.), 7 Seville Street, Knightsbridge, S.W.1._
+
+
+Accounts Rendered
+
+The First-Lieutenant of a warship I was in, though a first-class
+sailor, had no great liking for clerical work, consequently the ship's
+store-books were perhaps not quite as they should have been.
+
+[Illustration: "Well, _that_ clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."]
+
+He therefore got an Able Seaman (who had been a London clerk in civil
+life) to give him a hand in his "off watches" in putting the books in
+order.
+
+Shortly afterwards the ship stopped a torpedo and sank in eight
+minutes. Before the First-Lieutenant had very much time to look round
+he found himself in the "ditch."
+
+As he was clambering out of the water on to the bottom of an upturned
+boat, he saw his "Chief Accountant" climbing up the other side, and
+the first thing he did was to reach out and shake hands with the A.B.
+across the keel of the boat, at the same time remarking, "Well, _that_
+clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."--_John Bowman (Able Seaman,
+R.N.V.R.), 19 Handel Mansions, W.C.1._
+
+
+An Ocean Greyhound
+
+On one occasion when the _Diligence_ was "somewhere in the North Sea,"
+shore leave was granted.
+
+One of the sailors, a Cockney, returned to the ship with his jumper
+"rather swollen." The officer of the watch noticed something furry
+sticking out of the bottom of his jumper, and at once asked where he
+had got it from, fearing, probably, that he had been poaching.
+
+[Illustration: "... To Nurse it Back to 'Ealth and Strength."]
+
+The Cockney thought furiously for a moment and then said: "I chased it
+round the Church Army hut, sir, until it got giddy and fell over, and
+so I picked it up and brought it aboard to nurse it back to 'ealth and
+strength."--_J. S. Cowland, 65 Tylney Road, Forest Gate, E.7._
+
+
+Margate In Mespot.
+
+October 29, 1914--England declares war on Turkey and transports laden
+with troops sail from Bombay.
+
+One evening, within a week, these transports anchor off the flat
+Mesopotamian coast at the top of the Persian Gulf. In one ship, a
+county regiment (95 per cent. countrymen, the remainder Cockney) is
+ordered to be the first to land. H.M.S. _Ocean_ sends her cutters and
+lifeboats, and into these tumble the platoons at dusk, to be rowed
+across a shallow "bar."
+
+[Illustration: "Wot price this fer Margate?"]
+
+Under cover of an inky darkness they arrive close to the beach by
+midnight. It is very cold, and all feel it the more because the kit
+worn is shorts and light khaki shirts.
+
+In the stone-cold silence a whisper passes from boat to boat--"_Remove
+puttees; tie boots round the neck; at signal, boats to row in until
+grounded; platoons to disembark and wade ashore_."
+
+So a shadowy line of strange-looking waders is dimly to be seen
+advancing through the shallow water and up the beach--in extended
+order, grim and frozen stiff. As dawn breaks they reach the sandy
+beach, and a few shots ring out from the distant Fort of Fas--but
+no one cares. Each and all are looking amazedly at the grotesque
+appearance of the line--silent, miserable figures, boots wagging round
+their necks, shorts rolled as high as possible, while their frozen
+fingers obediently cling to rifles and ammunition.
+
+It is too much for one soul, and a Cockney voice calls out: "'Ere, wot
+price this fer Margate?"
+
+The spell is broken. The Mesopotamian campaign begins with a great
+laugh!--_John Fiton, M.C., A.F.C., 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden City,
+Herts._
+
+
+Urgent and Personal!
+
+The ss. _Oxfordshire_, then a hospital ship, was on her way down from
+Dar-es-salaam to Cape Town when she received an S.O.S. from H.M.T.
+_Tyndareus_, which had been mined off Cape Agulhas, very near the spot
+where the famous _Birkenhead_ sank.
+
+The _Tyndareus_ had on board the 26th (Pioneer) Battalion, Middlesex
+Regiment, under the command of Colonel John Ward, then on their way to
+Hong Kong.
+
+As the hospital boat drew near it was seen that the _Tyndareus_ was
+very low in the water, and across the water we could hear the troops
+singing "Tipperary" as they stood lined up on the decks.
+
+The lifeboats from both ships were quickly at work, every patient
+capable of lending a hand doing all he could to help. Soon we had
+hundreds of the Middlesex aboard, some pulled roughly up the side,
+others climbing rope-ladders hastily thrown down. They were in various
+stages of undress, some arriving clad only in pants.
+
+On the deck came one who, pulled up by eager hands, landed on all fours
+with a bump. As he got up, hands and toes bleeding from contact with
+the side of the vessel, I was delighted to recognise an old London
+acquaintance. The following dialogue took place:
+
+MYSELF: Hallo, Bill! Fancy meeting you like this! Hurt much?
+
+BILL: Not much. Seen Nobby Clark? Has he got away all right?
+
+MYSELF (_not knowing Nobby Clark_): I don't know. I expect so; there
+are hundreds of your pals aboard.
+
+BILL: So long. See you later. Must find Nobby; he collared the "kitty"
+when that blinking boat got hit!--_J. P. Mansell (late) 25th Royal
+Fusiliers._
+
+
+Victoria! (Very Cross)
+
+While I was an A.B. aboard H.M.S. _Aboukir_ somewhere in the North Sea
+we received a signal that seven German destroyers were heading for us
+at full speed. We were ordered at the double to action stations.
+
+My pal, a Cockney, weighing about 18 stone, found it hard to keep up
+with the others, and the commander angrily asked him, "Where is your
+station?"
+
+[Illustration: "Where's your station?"
+
+"Victoria--if I could only get there."]
+
+To which the Cockney replied, "Victoria--if I could only get
+there."--_J. Hearn, 24 Christchurch Street, S.W.3._
+
+
+He Saw the Force of It
+
+In February 1915 we beat out our weary patrol near the Scillies. Our
+ship met such heavy weather that only the bravest souls could keep a
+cheery countenance. Running into a growing storm, and unable to turn
+from the racing head seas, we beat out our unwilling way into the
+Atlantic.
+
+Three days later we limped back to base with injured men, hatches stove
+in, winch pipes and boats torn away. Our forward gun was smashed and
+leaned over at a drunken angle.
+
+Early in the morning the crew were taking a well-earned rest, and the
+decks were deserted but for the usual stoker, taking a breath of air
+after his stand-by watch. A dockyard official, seeing our damage, came
+on board, and, after viewing the wrecked gun at close quarters, turned
+to the stoker with the remark: "Do you mean to say that the sea smashed
+a heavy gun like that, my man?"
+
+The stoker, spitting with uncanny accuracy at a piece of
+floating wood overside, looked at the official: "Nah," he said,
+"it wasn't the blinking sea; the ryne done it!"--_A. Marsden
+(Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander, R.N.), Norbrook Cottage, Leith Park
+Road, Gravesend._
+
+
+New Skin--Brand New!
+
+Two mines--explosion--many killed--hundreds drowned. We were sinking
+fast. I scrambled quickly out of my hammock and up the hatchway. On
+deck, leaning against the bulkhead, was a shipmate, burned from head
+to foot. More amazing than fiction was his philosophy and coolness as
+he hailed me with, "'Cher, Darby! Got a fag? I ain't had a 'bine since
+Pa died." I was practically "in the nude," and could not oblige him.
+Three years later I was taking part at a sports meeting at Dunkirk when
+I was approached by--to me--a total stranger. "What 'cher, Darby--ain't
+dead yet then. What! Don't you remember H.M.S. _Russell_? Of course
+I've altered a bit now--new skin--just like a two-year-old--brand new."
+Brand new externally, but the philosophy was unaltered.--_"Darby," 405
+Valence Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+A Zeebrugge Memory
+
+During the raid on Zeebrugge, one of our number had his arms blown
+away. When things quietened a little my chum and I laid him on a mess
+table and proceeded to tend his wounds. My chum tried to light the
+mess-deck "bogey" (fire), the chimney of which had been removed for the
+action. After the match had been applied, we soon found ourselves in a
+fog. Then the wounded man remarked: "I say, chum! If I'm going to die,
+let's die a white man, not a black 'un." The poor fellow died before
+reaching harbour.--_W. A. Brooks, 14 Ramsden Road, N.11._
+
+
+Another Perch in the Roost
+
+On the morning of September 22, 1914, when the cruisers _Aboukir_,
+_Hogue_, and _Cressy_ were torpedoed, we were dotted about in the
+water, helping each other where possible and all trying to get some
+support. When one piece got overloaded it meant the best swimmers
+trying their luck elsewhere.
+
+Such was my position, when I saw a piece of wreckage resembling a
+chicken coop, large enough to support four men. I reached it just ahead
+of another man who had been badly scalded.
+
+We were both exhausted and unable to help another man coming towards
+us. He was nearly done, and my companion, seeing his condition, shouted
+between breaths: "Come along, ole cock. Shake yer bloomin' feavers.
+There's a perch 'ere for anover rooster."
+
+Both were stokers on watch when torpedoed, and in a bad state from
+scalds. Exposure did the rest. I was alone, when picked up.--_W.
+Stevens (late R.M.L.I.), 23 Lower Range Road, Denton, near Gravesend._
+
+
+Uncomfortable Cargo
+
+(_A 12-in. shell weighs about 8 cwt. High explosives were painted
+yellow and "common" painted black._)
+
+In October 1914 H.M.S. _Venerable_ was bombarding the Belgian coast
+and Thames tugs were pressed into service to carry ammunition to ships
+taking part in the bombardment.
+
+The sea was pretty rough when a tug came alongside the _Venerable_
+loaded with 12-in. shells, both high explosive and common. Deck hands
+jumped down into the tug to sling the shells on the hoist. The tug
+skipper, seeing them jumping on the high explosives, shouted: "Hi!
+dahn there! Stop jumping on them yaller 'uns"; and, turning to the
+Commander, who was leaning over the ship's rail directing operations,
+he called out: "Get them yaller 'uns aht fust, guvnor, or them blokes
+dahn there 'll blow us sky high."--_A. Gill, 21 Down Road, Teddington,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+Good Old "Vernon"
+
+Several areas in the North Sea were protected by mines, which came from
+the torpedo depot ship, H.M.S. _Vernon_. The mines floated several feet
+below the surface, being kept in position by means of wires attached to
+sinkers.
+
+In my submarine we had encountered very bad weather and were uncertain
+of our exact position. The weather got so bad that we were forced to
+cruise forty feet below the surface.
+
+Everything was very still in the control room. The only movements were
+an occasional turn of the hydroplanes, or a twist at the wheel, at
+which sat "Shorty" Harris, a real hard case from Shadwell.
+
+Suddenly we were startled by a scraping sound along the port side.
+Before we could put our thoughts into words there came an ominous bump
+on the starboard side. _Bump!_ ... _bump!_ ... seven distinct thuds
+against the hull. No one moved, and every nerve was taut. Then "Shorty"
+broke the tension with, "Good old _Vernon_, another blinkin' dud."--_T.
+White, 31 Empress Avenue, Ilford._
+
+
+Any Time's Kissing Time!
+
+A torpedo-boat destroyer engaged on transport duty in the Channel in
+1916 had been cut in two by collision whilst steaming with lights
+out. A handful of men on the after-part, which alone remained afloat,
+were rescued after several hours by another destroyer, just as the
+after-part sank.
+
+[Illustration: "Ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss me?"]
+
+A howling gale was raging and some of the survivors had to swim for it.
+
+As the first swimmer reached the heaving side of the rescuing ship he
+was caught by willing hands and hauled on board.
+
+When he got his breath he stood up and, shaking himself to clear the
+water somewhat from his dripping clothes, looked around with a smile
+at the "hands" near by and said: "Well, ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss
+me?"--_J. W., Bromley, Kent._
+
+
+The Fag End
+
+The captain of the troopship _Transylvania_ had just called the famous
+"Every man for himself" order after the boat had received two torpedoes
+from a submarine.
+
+The nurses had been got off safely in a boat, but our own prospects of
+safety seemed very remote. Along came a Cockney with his cigarettes and
+the remark, "Who'll 'ave a fag afore they get wet?"--_A. W. Harvey, 97
+Elderfield Road, Clapton, E.5 (late 10th London Regiment)._
+
+
+"Spotty" the Jonah
+
+On board the s.s. _Lorrento_ in 1917 with me was one "Spotty" Smith,
+A.B., of London. He had been torpedoed five times, and was reputed
+to be the sole survivor on the last two occasions. Such a Jonah-like
+reputation brought him more interest than affection from sailormen.
+
+Approaching Bizerta--a danger spot in the South Mediterranean--one dark
+night, all lights out, "Spotty" so far forgot himself as to strike
+matches on deck. In lurid and forcible language the mate requested him
+"not to beat his infernal record on this ship."
+
+"Spotty," intent on turning away wrath, replied, "S'elp me, sir, I've
+'ad enough of me heroic past. This next time, sir, I made up me mind
+to go down with the rest of the crew!"--_J. E. Drury, 77 Eridge Road,
+Thornton Heath._
+
+
+He Just Caught the Bus!
+
+After an arduous spell of patrol duty, our submarine had hove to to
+allow the crew a much-needed breather and smoke. For this purpose only
+the conning-tower hatch was opened so as to be ready to submerge, if
+necessity arose, with the minimum of delay.
+
+Eager to take full advantage of this refreshing interlude, the crew
+had emerged, one by one, through the conning-tower and had disposed
+themselves in sprawling attitudes around the upper deck space, resting,
+reading, smoking.
+
+Sure enough, soon the alarm was given, "Smoke seen on the horizon."
+
+The order "Diving stations" was given and, hastily scuttling down the
+conning-tower, the crew rapidly had the boat submerging, to leave only
+the periscope visible.
+
+The commander kept the boat slowly cruising with his periscope trained
+on the approaching smoke, ready for anything. Judge of his amazement
+when his view was obscured by the face of "Nobby" Clark (our Cockney
+A.B.) at the other end of the periscope. Realising at once that "Nobby"
+had been locked out (actually he had fallen asleep and had been rudely
+awakened by his cold plunge), we, of course, "broke surface" to collect
+frightened, half-drowned "Nobby," whose only ejaculation was: "Crikey!
+I ain't half glad I caught the ole bus."--_J. Brodie, 177 Manor Road,
+Mitcham, Surrey._
+
+
+Dinner before Mines!
+
+"Somewhere in the North Sea" in 1917, when I was a stoker on H.M.S.
+_Champion_, there were plenty of floating mines about.
+
+One day, several of us were waiting outside the galley (cook house) for
+our dinners, and the cook, a man from Walworth, was shouting out the
+number of messes marked on the meat dishes which were ready for the men
+to take away.
+
+He had one dish in his hand with no number marked on it, when a stoker
+rushed up and shouted: "We nearly struck a mine--missed it by inches,
+Cookey." But Cookey only shouted back: "Never mind about blinkin' mines
+nah; is this _your_ perishin' dish with no tally on it?"--_W. Downs
+(late stoker, R.N.), 20 Tracey Street, Kennington Road, S.E._
+
+
+A Philosopher at Sea
+
+We were a helpless, sorry crowd, many of us with legs in splints, in
+the hold of a "hospital" ship crossing from Boulogne. The boat stopped
+dead.
+
+"What are we stopping for, mate?" one man asked the orderly.
+
+"The destroyers wot's escortin' of us is chasin' a German submarine.
+I'm just a-goin' on deck agin to see wot's doin'." As he got to the
+ladder he turned to say: "Nah, you blokes: if we gits 'it by a torpedo
+don't go gettin' the ruddy wind up an' start rushin' abaht tryin' ter
+git on deck. It won't do yer wounds no bloomin' good!"--_E. Bundy (late
+L/Corporal, 1/5th L.F.A., 47th Division), 4 Upton Gardens, Barkingside,
+Ilford, Essex._
+
+
+Extra Heavyweight
+
+Amongst the crew of our mine-sweeper during the war "Sparks," the
+wireless operator, was a hefty, fat chap, weighing about 18 stone. One
+day while clearing up a mine-field, laid overnight by a submarine, we
+had the misfortune to have four or five of the mines explode in the
+"sweep."
+
+The explosion shattered every piece of glass in the ship, put the
+engines out of action, and nearly blew the ship out of the water.
+
+"Bill," one of our stokers--a Cockney who, being off watch, was asleep
+in his bunk--sat up, yawned, and exclaimed in a sleepy voice: "'Ullo,
+poor ole 'Sparks' fallen out of 'is bunk again! 'E'll 'urt 'isself one
+of these days!"--_R.N.V.R., Old Windsor, Berks._
+
+
+Three Varieties
+
+The boat on which I was serving as a stoker had just received two new
+men as stokers.
+
+On coming down the stokehold one of them seemed intent on finding out
+what different perils could happen to him.
+
+After he had been inquiring for about an hour a little Cockney,
+rather bored, got up and said, "Now look here, mate. The job ain't
+so bad, looking at it in this light--you've three ways of snuffing
+it: one is _burnt_ to death, the other is _scalded_ to death; or,
+if you're damn lucky, _drowned_. That's more chances than they have
+upstairs."--_B. Scott (late Stoker, H.M.S. "Marlborough"), 29 Stanley
+Road, Southend-on-Sea, Essex._
+
+
+He was a Bigger Fish
+
+The battleship in which I was serving was picking up survivors from a
+torpedoed merchantman in the North Atlantic. They had been drifting
+about for hours clinging to upturned boats and bits of gear that had
+floated clear of the wreckage.
+
+Our boat had picked up three or four half-drowned men and was just
+about to return to the ship when we espied a fat sailor bobbing about
+with his arms around a plank. We pulled up close to him and the bow-man
+leaned out with a boat-hook and drew him alongside.
+
+[Illustration: "Wot d'yer fink I am--a blinkin' tiddler?"]
+
+He seemed to have just strength enough left to grasp the gunwale,
+when we were surprised to hear him shout, in an unmistakable Cockney
+voice: "All right, Cockey, un'itch that boat 'ook. Wot d'yer fink I
+am--a blinkin' tiddler?"--_Leslie E. Austin, 6 Northumberland Avenue,
+Squirrels Heath, Romford, Essex._
+
+
+The "Arethusa" Touch
+
+During the action off Heligoland in August 1914 the light cruiser
+_Arethusa_ came under a hot fire. A shell penetrated the chief stoker's
+mess, knocked a drawer full of flour all over the deck, but luckily
+failed to explode.
+
+A Cockney stoker standing in the mess had a narrow escape, but after
+surveying the wreckage and flour-covered deck all he said was: "Blowed
+if they ain't trying to make a blinkin' duff in our mess!"--_C. H. Cook
+(Lieut., R.N.V.R.), 91 Great Russell Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+His Chance to Dive
+
+During the early part of 1917, whilst I was serving with one of H.M.
+transports, we had occasion to call at Panama for coaling purposes
+before proceeding to England via New York.
+
+One of our many Cockney sailors was a fine swimmer and diver. He took
+every opportunity to have what he termed "a couple of dives."
+
+Owing to the water being rather shallow immediately along the quay, his
+diving exhibitions were limited to nothing higher than the forecastle,
+which was some 30 ft. His one desire, however, was to dive from the
+boat-deck, which was about 60 ft. Whilst steaming later in the front
+line of our convoy, which numbered about forty-two ships, we became the
+direct target of a deadly torpedo. Every soul dashed for the lifeboats.
+
+After things had somewhat subsided I found our Cockney
+friend--disregarding the fact that our ship was badly damaged and was
+now listing at an almost impossible angle--posing rather gracefully for
+a dive. He shouted, "Hi! hi! Wot abaht this 'un? I told yer I could do
+it easy!" He then dived gracefully and swam to a lifeboat.--_Bobbie
+George Bull (late Mercantile Marine), 40 Warren Road, Leyton, E.10._
+
+
+Wot Abaht Wot?
+
+In 1917 our job on an armed merchantman, H.M.A.S. _Marmora_, was to
+escort food ships through the danger zone. One trip we were going to
+Sierra Leone, but in the middle of the afternoon, when about two days
+out from Cardiff, we were torpedoed.
+
+The old ship came to a standstill and we all proceeded to action
+stations. Just as we were training our guns in the direction of the
+submarine another torpedo struck us amidships and smashed practically
+all the boats on the port side.
+
+"Abandon ship" was given, as we were slowly settling down by the bows.
+Our boat was soon crowded out, and there seemed not enough room for a
+cat. The last man down the life-line was "Tubby," our cook's mate, who
+came from Poplar.
+
+When he was about half way down the boat was cut adrift and "Tubby" was
+left hanging in mid-air. "Hi!" he shouted. "What abaht it?"
+
+Another Cockney (from Battersea) replied: "What abaht what?"
+
+"Abaht coming back for me."
+
+"What do you take us for," said the lad from Battersea; "do yer fink we
+all want the sack fer overcrowdin'?"
+
+"Tubby" was, of course, picked up after a slight immersion.--_C. Phelps
+(late R.M.L.I.), 36 Oxford Road, Putney, S.W.15._
+
+
+Water on the Watch
+
+I was one of the crew of a patrol boat at the Nore in the winter of
+1915. Most of the crew had gone to the dockyard to draw stores and
+provisions, and I was down in the forecastle when I heard a shout
+for help. I nipped up on deck and discovered that our Cockney stoker
+had fallen overboard. He was trying to swim for dear life, though
+handicapped by a pair of sea boots and canvas overalls over his
+ordinary sailor's rig. A strong tide was running and was carrying him
+away from the boat.
+
+I threw a coil of rope to him, and after a struggle I managed to haul
+him aboard. I took him down to the boiler room and stripped off his
+clothes.
+
+Around his neck was tied a bootlace, on the end of which was hanging
+a metal watch, which he told me he had bought the day before for five
+shillings. The watch was full of sea water, and there was an air bubble
+inside the glass. As he held it in his hand he looked at it with
+disgust. When I said to him what a wonderful escape his wife had had
+from being left a widow, he replied, "Yes, it was a near fing, ole'
+mate, but wot abaht me blinkin' bran' noo watch? It's gone and turned
+itself into a perishin' spirit level, and I've dipped five bob."--_W.
+Carter, 55 Minet Avenue, Harlesden, N.W.10._
+
+[Illustration: "A perishin' spirit level."]
+
+
+A Gallant Tar
+
+An awe-inspiring sight met the eyes of the 29th Division as they came
+into view of Gallipoli on the morning of April 25, 1915. Shells from
+our ships were bursting all over that rugged coast, and those from the
+enemy bespattered the water around us.
+
+While I gazed at the scene from the deck of the _Andania_, carried away
+by the grandeur of it all, my reverie was broken by a Cockney voice
+from the sailor in charge of the small boat that was to take us ashore.
+"'Op in, mate," said the sailor. "I've just lorst three boats. I reckon
+I'll soon have to take the blooming island meself."
+
+His fourth trip was successfully accomplished, but the fifth, alas! was
+fatal both to this gallant tar and to the occupants of his boat.--_G.
+Pull (late 1st R. Innis. Fus.), 20 Friars Place Lane, Acton, W.3._
+
+
+A Cap for Jerry
+
+Dawn, September 1, 1917, H.M. destroyer _Rosalind_ was engaged with
+enemy ships off Jutland. I was serving on one of the guns, and we were
+approaching the enemy at full speed. The ship was vibrating from end
+to end, and the gun fire, the bursting of shells, and the smell of the
+cordite had got our nerves at high tension.
+
+When we were very near the enemy one of the German ships blew up
+completely in a smothering cloud of smoke.
+
+At this time something went wrong with our ammunition supply, and we
+had used up all that we usually carried on the gun platform. One of the
+gun's crew, a Cockney, put his cap in the breech, and said "Quick! Send
+'em this to put the lid on that blinkin' chimney." We all had to laugh,
+and carried on.--_W. E. M. (late H.M.S. "Rosalind"), 19 Kimberley Road,
+Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Give 'im 'is Trumpet Back
+
+After the _Britannia_ was torpedoed in November 1918, and the order
+"Abandon Ship" had been given, the crew had to make their way as best
+they could to a destroyer which had pulled up alongside.
+
+Hawsers were run from the _Britannia_ to the destroyer, down which we
+swarmed. Some got across. Others were not so lucky. One of the unlucky
+ones who had a free bath was a Cockney stoker nicknamed "Shorty," who,
+after splashing and struggling about, managed to get near the destroyer.
+
+To help him a burly marine dangled a rope and wooden bucket over the
+side, this being the only means of rescue available. The marine, who
+was puffing at a large meerschaum pipe, called out: "Here y'are,
+Shorty, grab 'old o' this bucket an' mind yer don't drown yerself in
+it."
+
+"Shorty" makes sure of bucket, then wipes the water from his eyes,
+looks up to the marine, and says: "Garn, give the kid 'is trumpet
+back."--_G. Lowe (ex-R.M.L.I.), 18 Brocas Street, Eton, Bucks._
+
+
+Getting the Range
+
+It was on H.M. monitor _General Wolfe_, my first ship, and this was my
+first taste of actual warfare.
+
+We were lying anchored off the Belgian coast, shelling an inland
+objective with our 18-in. gun, the ammunition for which, by the way,
+was stowed on the upper deck.
+
+All ratings other than this gun's crew were standing by for "action
+stations." Just then the shore batteries opened fire on us. The first
+shot fell short, the next went over.
+
+A Cockney member of my gun's crew explained it thus: "That's wot they
+calls a straddle," he said. "They finds our range that way--one short,
+one over, and the next 'arf way between. Got a 'bine on yer before it's
+too late?"--_Regd. W. Ayres (late A.B., R.N.), 50 Lewisham High Road,
+New Cross, S.E. 14._
+
+
+Coco-nut Shies
+
+Early in 1915 I was attached to one of our monitors in the Far East. We
+had painted the ship to represent the country we were fighting in. The
+ship's side was painted green with palm trees on it, and up the funnel
+we painted a large coco-nut tree in full bloom.
+
+When we went into action, a shell penetrated our funnel, and a splinter
+caught my breech worker in the shoulder. After we had ceased fire we
+carried him below on a stretcher. Looking at the funnel, he said,
+"Blimey, Tom, 'appy 'Ampstead and three shies a penny. All you knock
+down you 'ave."
+
+Later I went to see him in Zanzibar Hospital, and told him he had been
+awarded the D.S.M. He seemed more interested to know if the German
+had got his coco-nut than in his own award.--_T. Spring (late Chief
+Gunner's Mate, R.N.), 26 Maidenstone Hill, Greenwich, S.E.10._
+
+
+"Any more for the 'Skylark'?"
+
+Passing through the Mediterranean in 1916, the P. & O. liner _Arabia_,
+returning from the East with a full complement of passengers, was
+torpedoed.
+
+I was in charge of a number of naval ratings returning to England, who,
+of course, helped to get the boats away.
+
+While some of my boys were getting out one of the port boats a woman
+passenger, who had on a Gieves waistcoat, rushed up, holding the air
+tube in front of her, and shouting hysterically, "Oh, blow it up
+somebody, will somebody please blow it up?" A hefty seaman with a
+couple of blasts had the waistcoat inflated, and as he screwed up the
+cap said, "Look 'ere, miss, if yer 'oller like that Fritzy will 'ear
+yer and he _will_ be angry. 'Ere you are, miss, boat all ready; 'op in."
+
+Then, turning round to the waiting passengers, he said, "Come on, any
+more for the 'Skylark'?"--_F. M. Simon (Commander, R.N., retd.), 99
+Lower Northdown Road, Margate._
+
+
+Still High and Dry
+
+Whilst patrolling on an exceptionally dark night, the order being "No
+lights showing," we had the misfortune to come into collision with a
+torpedo boat. Owing to the darkness and suddenness of the collision
+we could not discover the extent of the damage, so the officer of the
+watch made a "round," accompanied by the duty petty officer.
+
+Upon reaching a hatchway leading down to the stokers' mess deck, he
+called down: "Is there any water coming in down there?" In answer a
+Cockney stoker, who was one of a number in their hammocks, was heard to
+reply: "I don't fink so; it ain't reached my 'ammock yet."--_J. Norton
+(late Ldg. Stoker, R.N.), 24 Lochaline Street, Hammersmith, W.6._
+
+
+Trunkey Turk's Sarcasm
+
+We were serving in a destroyer (H.M.S. _Stour_) in 1915, steaming up
+and down the East Coast. As we passed the different coastguard stations
+the bunting-tosser had to signal each station for news.
+
+One station, in particular, always had more to tell than the others.
+One day this station signalled that a merchant ship had been torpedoed
+and that German submarines were near the coast.
+
+My Cockney chum--we called him Trunkey Turk because of his big
+nose--asked the bunting-tosser for his news as he was coming down from
+the bridge, and when he was told, said, "Why didn't you ask them if
+they saw a tin of salmon in their tot of rum to-day?"--_J. Tucknott, 2
+Wisbeach Road, West Croydon._
+
+
+Running Down the Market
+
+On board a destroyer in the North Sea in 1916. Look-out reports, "Sail
+ahead, sir."
+
+The captain, adjusting his glasses, was able to make out what at first
+appeared to be a harmless fisherman.
+
+As we drew nearer we could see by her bow wave that she had something
+more than sails to help her along: she had power.
+
+"Action Stations" was sounded, the telegraphs to engine-room clanged
+"Full speed ahead." Our skipper was right. It was a German submarine,
+and as our foremost gun barked out we saw the white sails submerge.
+
+Depth charges were dropped at every point where we altered course.
+Imagine our surprise to find the resulting flotsam and jetsam around us
+consisted of trestles, boards, paint-brushes, boxes, and a hat or two,
+which the crafty Germans had used to camouflage their upper structure.
+
+The scene was summed up neatly by "Spikey" Merlin, A.B., a real product
+of Mile End Road: "Lor' luv old Aggie Weston, we've run dahn the
+blinkin' Calerdonian Markit."--_A. G. Reed (late R.N.), 15 William
+Street, Gravesend, Kent._
+
+
+Five to One against the "Tinfish"
+
+H.M.S. Morea, on convoy duty, was coming up the Channel when the silver
+streak of a "tinfish" was seen approaching the port side. The _Morea_
+was zig-zagging at the time, so more helm was given her to dodge the
+oncoming torpedo.
+
+The guns' crews were at action stations and were grimly waiting for the
+explosion, when a Cockney seaman gunner sang out, "I'll lay five to one
+it doesn't hit us."
+
+This broke the tension, and, as luck would have it, the torpedo passed
+three yards astern.--_J. Bowman (R.N.), 19 Handel Mansions, Handel
+Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+A Queer Porpoise
+
+In September 1914 I was in H.M.S. _Vanguard_, patrolling in the North
+Sea. One day four of us were standing on the top of the foremast
+turret, when all of a sudden my pal Nobby shouted to the bridge above
+us, "Periscope on the port bow, sir." At once the captain and signalman
+levelled their telescopes on the object. Then the captain looked over
+the bridge and shouted, "That's a porpoise, my man."
+
+Nobby looked up at the bridge and said, "Blimey, that's the first time
+I've seen a porpoise wiv a glass eye."
+
+He had no sooner said it than the ship slewed to port and a torpedo
+passed close to our stern, the signalman having spotted the wake of a
+torpedo.--_M. Froggat, 136 Laleham Road, Catford, S.E._
+
+
+"Hoctopus" with One Arm
+
+At the time when the German submarine blockade was taking heavy toll
+of all general shipping I was serving aboard a destroyer doing escort
+work in the Channel. One night three ships had been torpedoed in quick
+succession, and we understood they were carrying wounded.
+
+We were kept pretty busy dodging from one place to another to pick up
+survivors, and during our "travels" a ship's boat was sighted close at
+hand. In the darkness we could just make out the figure of a soldier
+endeavouring to pull a full-sized oar.
+
+After hailing the boat someone on our destroyer shouted, "Why didn't
+you get some more oars out?" A voice replied: "Don't be so funny. D'yer
+fink I'm a hoctopus? Our engines 'ave all conked aht." Which remark
+raised a laugh from the entire boatload.
+
+On getting closer alongside the tragedy dawned on us. This Cockney
+was the only man (out of about thirty) who was sound enough to handle
+an oar, and he only had one arm and a half.--_H. G. Vollor (late
+Ldg.-seaman, R.N.), 73 Playford-Road, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+Interrupted Duel
+
+The C.O. of my ship had his own way of punishing men who were brought
+before him for fighting.
+
+He would send for the gunner's mate and tell him to have the two
+men up on the upper deck, in view of the ship's company, armed with
+single-sticks. The gunner's mate would get them facing each other, give
+them the first order of "Cutlass practice"--"Guard!" then "Loose play."
+At that order they would go for each other hammer and tongs till one
+gave in.
+
+Such a dispute had to be settled one day while we were patrolling the
+North Sea. The combatants were just getting warm to it when the alarm
+buzzers went--enemy in sight.
+
+The gunner's mate, who was refereeing the combat, said: "Pipe dahn, you
+two bounders. Hop it to your action stations, and don't forget to come
+back 'ere when we've seen them off."
+
+Fortunately they were both able to "come back."--_John M. Spring (late
+P.O., R.N.), Bank Chambers, Forest Hill, S.E.23._
+
+
+Enter Dr. Crippen
+
+Our ship, the s.s. _Wellington_, was torpedoed on August 14, 1917, and
+we were a despondent crew in the only two boats. The U-boat that had
+sunk our ship appeared and we were wondering what was going to happen
+to us.
+
+As the U-boat bore down upon us my mate, Nigger Smith (from Shoreditch)
+spotted its commander, who wore large spectacles, on its conning tower
+bridge. "Blimey," said Nigger, "'ere's old Crippen!"--_J. Cane (late
+Gunner, R.M.), 73 Rahere Street, E.C.1._
+
+
+The All-seeing Eye
+
+My pal Pincher and I volunteered out of the destroyer _Vulture_ for the
+Q-boats, and got detailed for the same mystery ship. After a lot of
+drills--"Abandon ship," "Panic crews away," etc.--we thought we were
+hot stuff.
+
+Knocking about the Channel one fine day the order came, "Panic crews to
+stations." Thinking it was drill, Pincher and I nipped into our boat,
+when the after fall carried away, letting Pincher, myself, and crew
+into the "drink."
+
+Pincher must have caught sight of the periscope of a U-boat, for on
+coming up (although he couldn't swim much) he said when I grabbed him:
+"Lumme, I'm in for fourteen penn'orth!" (14 days 10A, i.e. punishment
+involving extra work). "There's the skipper lookin' at me through 'is
+telescope, and they aven't piped 'ands to bathe yet."--_P. Willoughby
+(late R.N.), 186 Evelyn Street, S.E.8._
+
+
+The Submarine's Gamps
+
+While patrolling in the Sea of Marmora a British submarine came across
+several umbrellas floating in the sea, presumably from a sunken ship.
+Some of them were acquired by the crew.
+
+On the passage down the Dardanelles the submarine was damaged in the
+conning tower by gun-fire from the Turkish batteries, and water began
+to come in.
+
+At this critical stage I overheard one sailor remark to another, "I
+say, Bill, don't you think it is about time we put those blinkin'
+umbrellas up?"--_Naval officer retired, Hampstead, N.W.3._
+
+
+Polishing up his German
+
+About January 15, 1915, we were on patrol duty in the North Sea. Near
+daybreak we came across a number of German drifters, with carrier
+pigeons on board, that were suspected of being in touch with submarines.
+
+We were steaming in line abreast, and the order was signalled for each
+ship to take one drifter in tow. Our Jerry objected to being towed to
+England, and cut our tow-rope, causing us a deal of trouble.
+
+Our captain was in a rage and shouted down from the bridge to the
+officer of the watch, "Is there anyone on board who can speak German?"
+
+The officer of the watch called back, "Yes, sir; Knight speaks
+German"--meaning an officer.
+
+So the captain turned to the bos'n's mate and said, "Fetch him." The
+bos'n's mate sends up Able Seaman "Bogey" Knight, to whom the captain
+says, over his shoulder: "Tell those fellows that I'll sink 'em if they
+tamper with the tow again."
+
+With a look of surprise Bogey salutes and runs aft. Putting his hands
+to his mouth. Bogey shouts:
+
+"Hi! there, drifterofsky, do yer savvy?" and makes a cut with his hand
+across his arm. "If yer makes de cut agin, I makes de shoot--(firing an
+imaginary rifle)--and that's from our skipper!"
+
+[Illustration: "I makes de shoot."]
+
+Bogey's mates laughed to hear him sprachen the German; but Jerry didn't
+cut the tow again.--_E. C. Gibson, 3 Slatin Road, Stroud, Kent._
+
+
+
+
+5. HERE AND THERE
+
+
+Answered
+
+We were a working party of British prisoners marching through the
+German barracks on our way to the parcel office. Coming towards us was
+a German officer on horseback. When he arrived abreast of us he shouted
+in very good English: "It's a long way to Tipperary, boys, isn't it?"
+This was promptly answered by a Cockney in the crowd: "Yus! And it's
+a ruddy long way to Paris, ain't it?"--_C. A. Cooke, O.B.E. (late
+R.N.D.), 34 Brandram Road, Lee High Road, S.E._
+
+
+A Prisoner has the Last Laugh
+
+Scene: A small ward in Cologne Fortress, occupied by about twelve
+British prisoners of war.
+
+Time: The German M.O.'s inspection. Action: The new sentry on guard in
+the corridor had orders that all must stand on the M.O.'s entry. Seeing
+the M.O. coming, he called out to us. We jumped to it as best we could,
+except one, a Cockney, who had just arrived minus one leg and suffering
+from other injuries.
+
+Not knowing this, the sentry rushed over to him, yelling that he must
+stand. Seeing that no notice was being taken, he pointed his rifle
+directly at the Cockney. With an effort, since he was very weak and in
+great pain, the Cockney raised himself, caught hold of the rifle and,
+looking straight at it, said: "Dirty barrel--seven days!"
+
+The M.O., who had just arrived, heard the remark, and, understanding
+it, explained it to the sentry, who joined in our renewed
+laughter.--_A. V. White, 35 Mayville Road, Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Not Yet Introduced
+
+We were prisoners of war, all taken before Christmas 1914, and had been
+drafted to Libau, on the Baltic coast.
+
+Towards the end of 1916 a party of us were working on the docks when a
+German naval officer approached and began talking to us.
+
+During the conversation he said he had met several English admirals and
+named some of them.
+
+After a little while a Cockney voice from the rear of our party said,
+"'Ave you ever met Jellicoe, mate?"
+
+The officer replied in the negative, whereupon the Cockney said, "Well,
+take yer bloomin' ships into the North Sea: he's looking for yer."--_F.
+A. F. (late K.O.Y.L.I.), 4 Shaftesbury Road, W.6._
+
+
+On the Art of Conversation
+
+In 1916 the British R.N.A.S. armoured cars, under Commander Oliver
+Locker-Lampson, went from Russia to Rumania to help to stem the enemy's
+advance.
+
+One day, at the frontier town of Reni, I saw a Cockney petty officer
+engaged in earnest conversation with a Russian soldier. Finally, the
+two shook hands solemnly, saluted, and parted.
+
+"Did he speak English?" I asked when the Russian had gone away. "Not
+'im," said the P.O.
+
+"Perhaps you speak Russian?" I asked, my curiosity aroused. "No
+bloomin' fear!" he said, for all the world as if I had insulted him.
+
+"Then how do you speak to each other?"
+
+"That's easy, sir," he said. "'E comes up to me an' says 'Ooski,
+kooski, wooski, fooski.' 'Same to you,' says I, 'an' many of 'em,
+ol' cock.' 'Bzz-z-z, mzz-z-z, tzz-z-z,' says 'e. 'Thanks,' I says.
+'Another time, ol' boy. I've just 'ad a couple.' 'Tooralski, looralski,
+pooralski,' 'e says. 'Ye don't say!' says I. 'An' very nice, too,' I
+says, 'funny face!'
+
+"'Armony," he explained. "No quarrellin', no argifyin', only peace an'
+'armony.... Of course, sir, every now an' again I says 'Go to 'ell, y'
+silly blighter!'"
+
+"What for?"
+
+He looked at me coldly. "'Ow do I know but what the blighter's usin'
+insultin' words to me?" he asked.--_R. S. Liddell, Rosebery Avenue,
+E.C.1._
+
+
+Down Hornsey Way
+
+Here is a story of the Cockney war spirit at home. We called him
+"London" as he was the only Londoner in the troop. Very pale and
+slight, he gave the impression of being consumptive, yet he was quite
+an athlete, as his sprinting at the brigade sports showed.
+
+We had been on a gunnery course up Hornsey way, and with skeleton kit
+were returning past a large field in which were three gas chambers
+used for gas drill. No one was allowed even to go in the field unless
+equipped with a gas-mask. Suddenly a voice called out, "Look, there's a
+man trying to get in yon chamber."
+
+We shouted as loud as we could, but beyond waving his arms the
+figure--which looked to be that of a farm labourer--continued to push
+at the door. Then I saw "London" leap the gate of the field and sprint
+towards the chamber. When he was about 50 yards off the man gave a
+sudden lurch at the door and passed within. We called to "London" to
+come back, but a couple of seconds later he too was lost from view.
+
+One minute--it seemed like an hour--two, three, five, ten, and out came
+"London." He dragged with him the bulky labourer. Five yards from the
+chamber he dropped. Disregarding orders, we ran to his assistance.
+Both his eyes were swollen, his lip was cut, and a large gash on the
+cheek-bone told not of gas, but of a fight.
+
+He soon came to--and pointing to his many cuts said, "Serves me right
+for interfering. Thought the fellah might have been gassed, but there's
+none in there; and hell--he _can_ hit."--_"Selo-Sam," late Yorks
+Dragoons._
+
+
+"... Wouldn't Come Off"
+
+He hailed from Walworth and was the unfortunate possessor of a
+permanent grin.
+
+The trouble began at the training camp at Seaford when the captain was
+inspecting the company.
+
+"Who are you grinning at?" said he. "Beg parding," replied Smiler, "but
+I can't help it, sir. I was born like it."
+
+On the "other side" it was the same. The captain would take Smiler's
+grin as a distinct attempt to "take a rise" out of him. The result was
+that all the worst jobs seemed to fall upon the luckless Londoner.
+
+He was one of the "lucky lads" selected one night for a working party.
+While he was so engaged Jerry sent over a packet which was stopped by
+Smiler, and it was quickly apparent to him and to us that this was more
+than a Blighty one.
+
+As I knelt by his side to comfort him he softly whispered, "Say, mate,
+has Jerry knocked the blinkin' smile off?"
+
+"No," I replied, "it's still there."
+
+Then, with a strange light in his eyes, he said, "Won't the captain be
+darned wild when he hears about it?"--_P. Walters (late Cpl., Royal
+Fusiliers), 20 Church Street, Woolwich, S.E.18._
+
+
+When In Greece...?
+
+On a Greek island overlooking the Dardanelles, where we were stationed
+in 1916, my pal Sid and I were one day walking along a road when we saw
+approaching us a poor-looking knock-kneed donkey. On its back, almost
+burying it, was a huge pile of brushwood, and on top of this sat a
+Greek, whilst in front walked an elderly woman, probably his wife, also
+with a load of twigs on her back.
+
+Sid's face was a study in astonishment and indignation. "Strewth!" he
+muttered to himself. To the Greek he said, "Hi, 'oo the dickens d'you
+fink you are--the Lord Mayor? Come down orf of there!"
+
+The Greek didn't understand, of course, but Sid had him down. He seemed
+to be trying to remonstrate with Sid, but Sid wasn't "'avin' no excuses
+of that sort," and proceeded to reverse the order of things. He wanted
+"Ma" to "'op up an' 'ave a ride," but the timid woman declined. Her
+burden, however, was transferred to the man's back, and after surveying
+him in an O.C. manner, Sid said: "Nah, pass on, an' don't let it 'appen
+again!"--_H. T. Coad (late R.M.L.I.), 30 Moat Place, Stockwell, S.W.9._
+
+
+The Chef Drops a Brick
+
+At a prisoners of war camp, in Havre, it was my duty to make a daily
+inspection of the compound within the barbed wire, and also the
+officers' quarters.
+
+In charge of the officers' mess was a little Cockney corporal, but
+practically all the cooking and other work was done by German prisoners.
+
+We had just put on trial a new cook, a German, who had told us that he
+had been a chef before the war at one of the big London hotels.
+
+I was making my usual inspection with my S. M., and when we came to
+the officers' mess he bawled out "'Shun! Officer's inspection, any
+complaints?"
+
+The new German cook apparently did not think that this applied to him,
+and, wanting to create a good impression, he strolled across to me in
+the best _maître d'hôtel_ style, and exclaimed, "Goot mornung, sir. I
+tink ve are go'n to haf som rain."
+
+[Illustration: "'Ow long 'ave you bin a partner in the firm?"]
+
+Our little corporal appeared astounded at this lack of respect, and,
+going over to the German, he said in a loud voice: "Put thet knife
+dahn, an' stand to attention. Ve'r gorn to 'ave some rine, indeed!" And
+then, in a louder voice, "_Ve_ are. 'Ow long 'ave _you_ bin a partner
+in the firm?"--_Lieut. Edwin J. Barratt (Ex-"Queens" R.W. Surrey
+Regt.), 8 Elborough Street, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+His "Read" Letter Day
+
+At Sorrel le Grand, which our division had just taken in 1917, we took
+up a good position for our machine gun in a small dug-out.
+
+I was cleaning my revolver on one of the steps, and it accidentally
+went off.
+
+To my surprise and horror the bullet struck one of my comrades (who was
+in a sitting position) in the centre of his steel helmet, creating a
+huge dent.
+
+His remark was: "Lummy, it was a jolly good job I was reading one of
+my girl's letters," and then continued reading.--_Robt. Fisher (late
+Corpl., M.G.C.), 15 Mayesbrook Road, Goodmayes, Essex._
+
+
+Dan, the Dandy Detective
+
+Jerry's front line trench and ours were not three hundred yards apart.
+Over that sinister strip of ground attack and counter-attack had
+surged and ebbed in a darkness often turned to day by Verey lights and
+star-shells. Brave men on each side had reached their objective, but
+"fell Sergeant Death" often took charge.
+
+In our sector was a 1914 "Contemptible," who, despite mud and adverse
+conditions, made his New Army comrades smile at his barrack-room
+efforts to keep his uniform and equipment just so.
+
+Of Coster ancestry, his name was Dan, and, of course, they called him
+Dandy. He felt distinctly annoyed when on several days an officer
+passed him in the trench with the third button of his tunic missing.
+"'Is batman ought bloomin' well be for it," he soliloquised.
+
+Another night visit to Jerry's trench, and again some poor fellows stay
+there for keeps. In broad noonday Dan is once more aggrieved by seeing
+an officer with a button missing who halts in the trench to ask him the
+whereabouts of B.H.Q. and other details. The tunic looked the same,
+third button absent, _but it was not the same officer_.
+
+Now Dan's platoon sergeant, also a Londoner, was a man who had
+exchanged his truncheon for a more deadly weapon. Him Dan accosts:
+"I've a conundrum I'd like to arsk you, sergeant, as I don't see
+Sherlock 'Olmes nowhere. W'y do orficers lose their third button?"
+
+As became an ex-policeman, the sergeant's suspicions were aroused by
+the coincidence, so much so indeed that he made discreet enquiries and
+discovered that the original owner of a tunic minus a third button had
+been reported missing, believed dead, after a recent trench raid.
+
+The adjutant very soon made it his business to intercept the new wearer
+and civilly invite him to meet the O.C. at B.H.Q. Result: a firing
+party at dawn.
+
+When the news of the spy filtered through, Dan's comment was; "Once,
+when a rookie, I was crimed at the Tower for paradin' with a button
+missin', but I've got even now by havin' an orficer crimed for the same
+thing, even if he _was_ only a blinkin' 'Un!"--_H. G., Plaistow._
+
+
+The Apology
+
+A heavily-laden and slightly intoxicated Tommy, en route to France,
+entered the Tube at Oxford Circus. As the train started he lurched and
+trod heavily on the toes of a very distinguished "Brass Hat."
+
+Grabbing hold of the strap, he leaned down apologetically and murmured:
+"_Sorry, Sergeant!_"--_Bert Thomas, Church Farm, Pinner, Middlesex._
+
+[Illustration: "Sorry, Sergeant!"]
+
+
+Too Scraggy
+
+We were prisoners in the infamous Fort Macdonald, near Lille, early in
+May 1917, rammed into the dungeons there for a sort of "levelling down
+process," i.e. starvation, brutal treatment, and general misery. After
+eleven days of it we were on our way, emaciated, silent, and miserable,
+to the working camps close behind the German lines, when a Cockney
+voice piped up:
+
+"Nah then, boys, don't be down 'earted. They kin knock yer abaht and
+cut dahn yer rations, but, blimey, they won't _eat_ us--not nah!"--_G.
+F. Green, 14 Alma Square, St. John's Wood, N.W.8._
+
+
+So Why Worry?
+
+The following, written by a London Colonel, was hung up in one of our
+dug-outs:
+
+"When one is a soldier, it is one of two things. One is either in a
+dangerous place, or a cushy one. If in the latter, there is no need to
+worry. If one is in a dangerous place, it is one of two things. One is
+wounded, or one is not. If one is not, there is no need to worry. If
+the former, it is either dangerous or slight. If slight, there is no
+need to worry, but if dangerous, it is one of two alternatives. One
+dies or recovers. If the latter, why worry? If you die you cannot. In
+these circumstances the real Tommy never worries."--_"Alwas," Windmill
+Road, Brentford, Middlesex._
+
+
+Commended by the Kaiser
+
+As prisoners of war we were unloading railway sleepers from trucks when
+a shell dump blew up. German guards and British prisoners scattered in
+all directions. Some of the Germans were badly wounded and, as shells
+continued to explode, no attempt was made by their comrades to succour
+them.
+
+Seeing the plight of the wounded, a Cockney lad called to some
+fellow-prisoners crouching on the ground, "We can't leave 'em to die
+like this. Who's coming with me?"
+
+He and others raced across a number of rail tracks to the wounded men
+and carried them to cover.
+
+For this act of bravery they were later commended by the then
+Kaiser.--_C. H. Porter (late East Surrey Regiment), 118 Fairlands
+Avenue, Thornton Heath, Surrey._
+
+
+Only Fog Signals
+
+We were resting in Poperinghe in December 1915. One morning about 4.30
+a.m. we were called out and rushed to entrain for Vlamertinghe because
+Jerry was attacking.
+
+The train was packed with troops, and we were oiling our rifle bolts
+and checking our ammunition to be ready for action. We had not
+proceeded far when Jerry started trying to hit the train with some
+heavy shells. Several burst very close to the track.
+
+There was one young chap in our compartment huddled in a corner looking
+rather white. "They seem to be trying to hit the train," he said.
+
+"Darkie" Webb, of Poplar, always cheerful and matter-of-fact, looked
+across at the speaker and said, "'It the train? No fear, mate, them's
+only signals; there's fog on the line."--_B. Pigott (late Essex Regt.),
+55 Burdett Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea._
+
+
+An American's Hustle
+
+I was on the extreme right of the British line on March 22, 1918, and
+was severely wounded. I was picked up by the U.S. Red Cross.
+
+There was accommodation for four in the ambulance, and this was
+apportioned between two Frenchmen, a Cockney gunner, and myself.
+
+Anxious to keep our spirits up, the kindly Yankee driver said, "Cheer
+up! I'll soon get you there and see you put right," and as if to prove
+his words he rushed the ambulance off at express speed, with the result
+that in a few moments he knocked down a pedestrian.
+
+A short rest whilst he adjusted matters with the unfortunate
+individual, then off again at breakneck speed.
+
+The Cockney had, up to now, been very quiet, but when our driver barely
+missed a group of Tommies and in avoiding them ran into a wagon, the
+Londoner raised himself on his elbow and in a hoarse voice said, "Naw
+then, Sam, what the 'ell are you playing at? 'Aint yer got enough
+customers?"--_John Thomas Sawyer (8th East Surreys), 88 Wilcox Road,
+S.W.8._
+
+
+Truth about Parachutes
+
+Most English balloon observers were officers, but occasionally a
+non-commissioned man was taken up in order to give him experience.
+
+On one such occasion the balloon burst in the air. The two occupants
+made a hasty parachute exit from the basket. The courtesy usually
+observed by the senior officer, of allowing the other parachute to get
+clear before he jumps, was not possible in this instance, with the
+result that the officer got entangled with the "passenger's" parachute,
+which consequently did not open.
+
+Fortunately the officer's parachute functioned successfully and brought
+both men safely to earth. Upon landing they were rather badly dragged
+along the ground, being finally pulled up in a bush.
+
+The "passenger," a Cockney sergeant, was damaged a good deal, but upon
+being picked up and asked how he had enjoyed his ride he answered, "Oh,
+it was all right, but a parachute is like a wife or a toof-brush--you
+reely want one to yourself."--_Basil Mitchell (late R.A.F.), 51 Long
+Lane, Finchley, N.3._
+
+
+The Linguist
+
+[Illustration: "Moi--vous--'im--avec Allah!"]
+
+An Indian mule driver had picked up a German hand grenade of the
+"potato masher" type, which he evidently regarded as a heaven-sent
+implement for driving in a peg. Two Tommies tried to dissuade him, but,
+though he desisted, he was obviously puzzled. So one of the Cockneys
+tried to explain. "Vous compree Allah?" he asked, and raised his hand
+above his head. Satisfied that the increasing look of bewilderment was
+really one of complete enlightenment, he proceeded to go through a
+pantomime of striking with the "potato masher" and, solemnly pointing
+in turn to himself, to the Indian, and to his companion, said: "Moi,
+vous, and 'im--avec Allah."--_J. F. Seignoir (Lt., R.A.), 13 Moray
+Place, Cheshunt, Herts._
+
+
+Billiards isn't all Cannons
+
+My regiment was in action on the Marne on September 20, 1914. We had
+been hammering, and had been hammered at, for some hours, until there
+were very few of us left, and those few, being almost all of them
+wounded or short of ammunition, were eventually captured and taken
+behind the German lines.
+
+As we passed their trenches we saw a great number of German wounded
+lying about.
+
+One of our lads, a reservist, who was a billiards marker in Stepney,
+although badly wounded, could not resist a gibe at a German officer.
+
+"Strewth, Old Sausage and Mash," he cried, "your blokes may be good at
+the cannon game, but we can beat yer at pottin' the blinkin' red. Look
+at yer perishin' number board" (meaning the German killed and wounded).
+And with a sniff of contempt he struggled after his mates into
+captivity.--_T. C. Rainbird (late Pte., 1st West Yorks), 41 Cavalry
+Crescent, Eastbourne, Sussex._
+
+
+Run?--Not Likely
+
+It was the beginning of the spring offensive, 1918, and the 2nd Army
+Gun School, Wisques, was empty, as the men had gone into the line. A
+handful of Q.M.A.A.C. cooks were standing by.
+
+I sent two little Cockney girls over to the instructors' château to
+keep the fires up in case the men returned suddenly. I went to the camp
+gate as an enemy bombing plane passed over. The girls had started back,
+and were half-way across the field. The plane flew so low that the men
+leaned over the side and jeered at us.
+
+I held my breath as it passed the girls--would they shoot them in
+passing? The girls did not hasten, but presently reached me with faces
+as white as paper.
+
+"Why didn't you run?" I said.
+
+"Lor', mum," came the reply, "yer didn't think as 'ow we was a-goin'
+ter run with them there Germans up there, did ye? Not much!"--_C. N.
+(late U.A., Q.M.A.A.C.), Heathcroft, Hampstead Way, N.W._
+
+
+At "The Bow Bells" Concert
+
+Whilst having a short spell away from the front line I attended a
+performance given in Arras by the divisional concert party, "The Bow
+Bells."
+
+During one of the items a long-range shell struck the building,
+fortunately without causing any casualties among the audience.
+
+Although front-line troops are not given to "windiness," the
+unexpectedness of this unwelcome arrival brought about a few moments'
+intense silence, which was broken by a Cockney who remarked, "Jerry
+_would_ come in wivvaht payin'."--_L. S. Smith (late 1-7 Middlesex
+Regt., 56th Division, B.E.F.), 171 Langham Road, N.15._
+
+
+A Bomb and a Pillow
+
+During part of the war my work included salving and destroying "dud"
+shells and bombs in the back areas. On one occasion in an air-raid a
+"dud" bomb glanced through the side of a hut occupied by some fitters
+belonging to an M.T. section of R.E.'s.
+
+This particular bomb (weighing about 100 lb.), on its passage through
+the hut had torn the corner of a pillow on which the owner's head was
+lying and carried feathers for several feet into the ground.
+
+We dug about ten feet down and then, as the hole filled with water as
+fast as we could pump it out, we gave it up, the tail, which had become
+detached a few feet down, being the only reward of our efforts.
+
+While we were in the midst of our operations the owner of the
+pillow--very "bucked" at being unhurt after such a narrow shave--came
+to look on, and with a glance down the hole and a grin at me said,
+"Well, sir, if I'd known it 'ud give yer so much trouble, I'd 'a caught
+it!"--_Arthur G. Grutchfield (late Major (D.A.D.O.S. Ammn.) R.A.O.C.),
+Hill Rise, Sanderstead Road, Sanderstead, Surrey._
+
+
+Athletics in the Khyber Pass
+
+During the Afghan operations I was resting my company on the side of
+the road at the Afghan entrance to the Khyber Pass. It was mid-day
+and the heat was terrific, when along that heat-stricken road came a
+British battalion. They had marched 15 miles that morning from Ali
+Musfd. Their destination was Landi Kana, five miles below us on the
+plain.
+
+As they came round the bend a cheer went up, for they spotted specks of
+white canvas in the distance. Most of the battalion seemed to be on the
+verge of collapse from the heat, but one Tommy, a Cockney, broke from
+the ranks and had a look at the camp in the distance, and exclaimed:
+"Coo! If I 'ad me running pumps I could sprint it!"--_Capt. A. G. A.
+Barton, M.C., Indian Army, "The Beeches," The Beeches Road, Perry Bar,
+Birmingham._
+
+
+Jack and his Jack Johnsons
+
+In September 1915 our battery near Ypres was crumped at intervals of
+twenty minutes by 18-in. shells. The craters they made could easily
+contain a lorry or two.
+
+One hit by the fifth shell destroyed our château completely. Leaving
+our dug-outs I found a gunner smoking fags under the fish-net
+camouflage at Number One gun.
+
+Asked sternly why he had not gone to ground, he replied, "Well,
+yer see, sir, I'm really a sailor and when the earth rocks with
+Jack Johnsons I feels at 'ome like. Besides, the nets keeps off the
+flies."--_G. C. D. (ex-Gunner Subaltern, 14th Div.), Sister Agnes
+Officers' Hospital, Grosvenor Crescent, S.W.1._
+
+
+Even Davy Jones Protested
+
+Towards the final stages of the Palestine front operations, when Johnny
+Turk was retreating very rapidly, I was detailed with others to clear
+and destroy enemy ammunition that had been left behind.
+
+When near the Sea of Galilee there was discovered a dump of aerial
+bombs, each approximately 25 lb. in weight. Thinking it quicker and
+attended by less risk than the usual detonation, I decided to drop them
+in the sea.
+
+About ten bombs were placed aboard a small boat, and I with three
+others pushed out about two hundred yards. Two of the bombs were
+dropped overboard without ever a thought of danger when suddenly there
+was a heavy, dull explosion beneath us, and boat, cargo, and crew were
+thrown into the air.
+
+Nobody was hurt. All clung to the remains of the boat, and we were
+brought back to our senses by one of our Cockney companions, who
+remarked: "Even Davy Jones won't have the ruddy fings."--_A. W. Owen
+(late Corporal, Desert Corps), 9 Keith Road, Walthamstow, E.17._
+
+
+"Parti? Don't blame 'im!"
+
+One summer afternoon in 1915 I was asked to deliver an official letter
+to the Mayor of Poperinghe. The old town was not then so well known as
+Toc H activities have since made it. At the time it was being heavily
+strafed by long-range guns. Many of the inhabitants had fled.
+
+I rode over with a pal. The door of the _mairie_ was open, but the
+building appeared as deserted as the great square outside.
+
+Just then a Belgian gendarme walked in and looked at us inquiringly. I
+showed him the buff envelope inscribed "_Monsieur le Maire_," whereupon
+he smiled and said, "_Parti_."
+
+At that moment there was a deafening crash outside and the air was
+filled with flying debris and acrid smoke. In a feeling voice my chum
+quietly remarked, "And I don't blinkin' well blame 'im, either!"--_F.
+Street, 13 Greenfield Road, Eastbourne._
+
+
+    _Printed in Great Britain by Hasell, Watson & Viney, Ltd.,
+    London and Aylesbury._
+
+    _Published by Associated Newspapers, Ltd., London, E.C.4._
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.
+
+Hyphenation was made consistent.
+
+P. 49: "Dorian Lake" changed to "Doiran Lake".
+
+P. 103: "Hindenbrug" changed to "Hindenburg".
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories, by Various
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44263 ***
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+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44263 ***</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>500 OF THE BEST COCKNEY WAR STORIES</h1>
+
+<p class="center spaced space-above">
+<small>REPRINTED FROM THE LONDON</small><br />
+<big>Evening News</big><br />
+<small>AND ILLUSTRATED BY</small><br />
+BERT THOMAS<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="center spaced space-above">
+<small>WITH AN OPENING YARN BY</small><br />
+GENERAL<br />
+SIR IAN HAMILTON<br />
+<small>G.C.B., G.C.M.G., D.S.O., etc.</small><br />
+<small>Vice-President of the British Legion</small><br />
+<small>President of the Metropolitan Area of the</small><br />
+<small>British Legion</small><br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="center spaced space-above">
+<small>ASSOCIATED NEWSPAPERS LTD.</small><br />
+<small>LONDON, E.C.4</small>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>EDITOR'S FOREWORD</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the remembering, and in the retelling, of those war
+days when laughter sometimes saved men's reason,
+Cockneys the world over have left to posterity a record of
+noble and imperishable achievement.</p>
+
+<p>From the countless tales collected by the London <i>Evening
+News</i> these five hundred, many of them illustrated by the
+great war-time artist, Bert Thomas, have been chosen as a
+fitting climax and perpetuation.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ian Hamilton's story of another war shows that, however
+much methods of fighting may vary from generation to
+generation, there is no break in continuity of a great
+tradition, that the spirits of laughter and high adventure are
+immortal in the make-up of the British soldier.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ian's story is doubly fitting. As President of the
+Metropolitan Area of the British Legion he is intimately
+concerned with the after-war welfare of just that Tommy
+Atkins who is immortalised in these pages. In the second
+place, all profits from the sale of this book will be devoted
+to the cause which the Higher Command in every branch of
+the Services is fostering&mdash;the British Legion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/i004.jpg" width="250" height="400" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td><a href="#SIR_IAN_HAMILTONS_STORY">SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">1.</td><td align="left"><a href="#ACTION">ACTION</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">2.</td><td align="left"><a href="#LULL">LULL</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">3.</td><td align="left"><a href="#HOSPITAL">HOSPITAL</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">4.</td><td align="left"><a href="#HIGH_SEAS">HIGH SEAS</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">5.</td><td align="left"><a href="#HERE_AND_THERE">HERE AND THERE</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="SIR_IAN_HAMILTONS_STORY" id="SIR_IAN_HAMILTONS_STORY">SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>The Great War was a matrix wherein many anecdotes have sprouted.
+They are short-lived plants&mdash;fragile as mushrooms&mdash;none too easy
+to extricate either, embedded as they are in the mass.</p>
+
+<p>To dig out the character of a General even from the plans of his General
+Staff is difficult; how much more difficult to dig out the adventures of
+Number 1000 Private Thomas Atkins from those of the other 999 who
+went "like one man" with him over the top? In the side-shows there
+was more scope for the individual and in the Victorian wars much more
+scope. To show the sort of thing I mean I am going to put down here
+for the first time an old story, almost forgotten now, in the hopes that
+it may interest by its contrast to barrages and barbed wire. Although
+only an old-fashioned affair of half a dozen bullets and three or four dead
+men it was a great event to me as it led to my first meeting with the
+great little Bobs of Kandahar.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning of September 11, 1879, I lay shivering with fever
+and ague at Alikhel in Afghanistan. So sick did I seem that it was
+decided I should be carried a day's march back to G.H.Q. on the Peiwar
+Kotal to see if the air of that high mountain pass would help me to pull
+myself round. Polly Forbes, a boy subaltern not very long from Eton,
+was sent off to play the part of nurse.</p>
+
+<p>We reached the Peiwar Kotal without any adventure, and were
+allotted a tent in the G.H.Q. camp pitched where the road between
+the Kurram Valley and Kabul ran over the high Kotal or pass. Next
+morning, although still rather weak in the knees, I felt game for a
+ride to the battlefield. So we rode along the high ridge through the
+forest of giant deodars looking for mementoes of the battle. The
+fact was that we were, although we knew it not, in a very dangerous
+No Man's Land.</p>
+
+<p>We had reached a point about two miles from camp when we were
+startled by half a dozen shots fired in quick succession and still more
+startled to see some British soldiers rushing down towards us from the
+top of a steep-sided knoll which crowned the ridge to our immediate
+front.</p>
+
+<p>Close past us rushed those fugitives and on, down the hillside, where
+at last, some hundred yards below us, they pulled up in answer to our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+shouts. But no amount of shouts or orders would bring them up to us,
+so we had to get off our ponies and go down to them. There were seven
+of them&mdash;a Corporal and three men belonging to one of the new short
+service battalions and three signallers&mdash;very shaky the whole lot. Only
+one was armed with his rifle; he had been on sentry-go at the moment
+the signalling picquet had been rushed&mdash;so they said&mdash;by a large body
+of Afghans.</p>
+
+<p>What was to be done? I realised that I was the senior. Turning
+to the Corporal I asked him if he could ride. "Yes, sir," he replied
+rather eagerly. "Well, then," I commanded, "you get on to that little
+white mare up there and ride like hell to G.H.Q. for help. You others
+go up with him and await orders." Off they went, scrambling up the hill,
+Forbes and I following rather slowly because of my weakness. When
+we got up to the path, ponies, syces, all had disappeared except that one
+soldier who had stuck to his rifle.</p>
+
+<p>All was as still as death in the forest where we three now stood alone.
+"Where are the others?" I asked the man. "I think they must be
+killed." "Do you think they are up there?" "Yessir!" So I
+turned to Forbes and said, "If there are wounded or dead up there we
+must go and see what we can do."</p>
+
+<p>Where we stood we were a bit far away from the top of the wooded
+hill for a jezail shot to carry and once we began to climb the slope
+we found ourselves in dead ground. Nearing the top, my heart
+jumped into my mouth as I all but put my foot on a man's face.
+Though I dared not take my eyes off the brushwood on the top of
+the hill, out of the corner of my eye I was aware he was a lascar
+and that he must be dead, for his head had nearly been severed from
+his body.</p>
+
+<p>At that same moment we heard a feeble cry in Hindustani, "<i>Shabash,
+Sahib log, chello!</i>" "Bravo, Gentlemen, come along!" This came
+from another lascar shot through the body&mdash;a plucky fellow. "<i>Dushman
+kahan hain?</i>"&mdash;"Where are the enemy?" I whispered. "When the
+sahibs shouted from below they ran away," he said, and at that, side
+by side with the revolvers raised to fire, Forbes and I stepped out on to
+the cleared and levelled summit of the hill, a space about fifteen feet
+by twenty.</p>
+
+<p>All was quiet and seemed entirely normal. There stood the helio
+and there lay the flags. Most astonishing of all, there, against a pile of
+logs, rested the priceless rifles of the picquet guard with their accoutrements
+and ammunition pouches lying on the ground beside them. Making
+a sign to Forbes we laid down our revolvers ready to hand, took, each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+of us, a rifle, loaded it, fixed the bayonet and stood at the ready facing
+the edge of the forest about thirty yards away.</p>
+
+<p>Even in these days when my memory is busy chucking its seventy
+years or so of accumulations overboard, the memory of that tense watch
+into the forest remains as fresh as ever. For the best part of half an
+hour it must have lasted. At last we heard them&mdash;not the Afghans but
+our own chaps, coming along the ridge and now they were making their
+way in open order up the hill&mdash;a company of British Infantry together
+with a few Pathan auxiliaries, the whole under command of Captain
+Stratton of the 22nd Foot, head Signaller to the Force.</p>
+
+<p>In few words my story was told and at once bold Stratton determined
+to pursue down the far side of the hill. Stratton had told me to go back
+to camp, but I did not consider that an order and, keeping on the extreme
+left of the line so that he should not see me, I pushed along.</p>
+
+<p>I noticed that the young soldier of the picquet who had stuck to his
+rifle was still keeping by me as the long line advanced down the slope,
+which gradually bifurcated into two distinct spurs. The further we
+went the wider apart drew the spurs and the deeper became the intervening
+nullah. Captain Stratton, Forbes, and the Regimental Company
+commander were all on the other or eastern spur and the men kept
+closing in towards them, until at last everyone, bar myself and my one
+follower, had cleared off the western spur. I did not want to cross the
+nullah, feeling too weak and tired to force my way through the thick
+undergrowth. Soon we could no longer hear or see the others.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly I heard Click! "Take cover!" I shouted and flung myself
+behind a big stone. Sure enough, the moment often imagined had come!
+Not more than twenty paces down the slope an old, white-bearded,
+wicked-looking Enemy was aiming at me with his long jezail from behind
+a fallen log. Click! again. Another misfire.</p>
+
+<p>Now I was musketry instructor of my regiment, which had been the
+best shooting regiment in India the previous year. My revolver was a
+rotten little weapon, but I knew its tricks. As the Afghan fumbled with
+his lock I took aim and began to squeeze the trigger. Another instant
+and he would have been dead when bang! went a rifle behind me;
+my helmet tilted over my eyes, my shot went where we found it next day,
+about six feet up into a tree. The young soldier had opened rapid fire
+just over my head.</p>
+
+<p>At the same time, I saw another Afghan come crouching through the
+brushwood below me towards a point where he would be able to enfilade
+my stone. I shouted to my comrade, "I'm coming back to you," and
+turned to make for his tree. Luck was with me. At that very moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+bang went the jezail and when we dug out the bullet next morning and
+marked the line of fire, it became evident that had I not so turned I
+would never have sat spinning this yarn.</p>
+
+<p>That shot was a parting salute. There were shouts from the right of
+the line, and as I was making for my tree the Afghans made off in the
+other direction. I shouted to Stratton and his men to press down to
+the foot of the hill, working round to the north so as to cut off the raiders.
+Then, utterly exhausted, I began my crawl back to the camp.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after I had got in I was summoned into the presence of the
+redoubtable Bobs. Although I had marched past him at Kohat this
+was my first face-to-face meeting with one who was to play the part of
+Providence to my career. He made me sit in a chair and at once performed
+the almost incredible feat of putting me entirely at my ease.
+This he did by pouring a golden liquid called sherry into a very large
+wine-glass. Hardly had I swallowed this elixir when I told him all about
+everything, which was exactly what he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>A week later the Commander of the Cavalry Brigade, Redan Massy,
+applied to Headquarters for an Aide-de-Camp. Sir Fred Roberts
+advised him to take me. That billet led to unimaginable bliss. Surrounding
+villages by moonlight, charging across the Logar Valley,
+despising all foot sloggers&mdash;every sort of joy I had longed for. The men
+of the picquet who had run away were tried by Court Martial and got
+long sentences, alas&mdash;poor chaps! The old Mullah was sent to his long
+account by Stratton.</p>
+
+<p>But that is the point of most war stories; when anyone gets a lift up
+it is by the misfortune or death of someone else.</p>
+
+<div class="right"><span class="smcap">Ian Hamilton.</span><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center"><big><b>COCKNEY WAR STORIES</b></big></div>
+
+<h2><a name="ACTION" id="ACTION">1. ACTION</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>The Outside Fare</h3>
+
+<p>During the third battle of Ypres a German field gun was trying to
+hit one of our tanks, the fire being directed no doubt by an observation
+balloon.</p>
+
+<p>On the top of the tank was a Cockney infantryman getting a free ride
+and seemingly quite unconcerned at Jerry's attempts to score a direct
+hit on the tank.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i013.jpg" width="600" height="514" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Hi, conductor! Any room inside?&mdash;it's rainin'!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As the tank was passing our guns a shrapnel shell burst just behind it
+and above it.</p>
+
+<p>We expected to see the Cockney passenger roll off dead. All he did,
+however, was to put his hand to his mouth and shout to those inside the
+tank: "Hi, conductor! Any room inside?&mdash;it's rainin'!"&mdash;<i>A. H.
+Boughton (ex "B" Battery, H.A.C.), 53 Dafforne Road, S.W.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Barbed Wire's Dangerous!"</h3>
+
+<p>A wiring party in the Loos salient&mdash;twelve men just out from
+home. Jerry's Verey lights were numerous, machine-guns were
+unpleasantly busy, and there were all the dangers and alarms incidental
+to a sticky part of the line. The wiring party, carrying stakes and wire,
+made its way warily, and every man breathed apprehensively. Suddenly
+one London lad tripped over a piece of old barbed wire and almost fell
+his length.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme," he exclaimed, "that ain't 'arf dangerous!"&mdash;<i>T. C.
+Farmer, M.C., of Euston Square, London (late of "The Buffs").</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Tale of an Egg</h3>
+
+<p>I was attached as a signaller to a platoon on duty in an advanced
+post on the Ypres-Menin Road. We had two pigeons as an emergency
+means of communication should our wire connection fail.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon Fritz put on a strafe which blew in the end of the
+culvert in which we were stationed. We rescued the pigeon basket from
+the debris and discovered that an egg had appeared.</p>
+
+<p>That evening, when the time came to send in the usual evening "situation
+report," I was given the following message to transmit:</p>
+
+<p>"Pigeon laid one egg; otherwise situation normal."&mdash;<i>D. Webster,
+85 Highfield Avenue, N.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"No Earfkwikes"</h3>
+
+<p>On a bitterly cold, wet afternoon in February 1918 four privates
+and a corporal were trying to take what shelter they could. One
+little Cockney who had served in the Far East with the 10th Middlesex
+was complaining about everything in general, but especially about the
+idiocy of waging war in winter.</p>
+
+<p>"Wot yer grumblin' at?" broke in the corporal, "you with yer
+fawncy tyles of Inja? At any rate, there ain't no blinking moskeeters
+'ere nor 'orrible malyria."</p>
+
+<p>There was a break in the pleasantries as a big one came over. In
+the subsequent explosion the little Cockney was fatally wounded.</p>
+
+<p>"Corpril," the lad gasped, as he lay under that wintry sky, "you
+fergot to menshun there ain't no bloomin' sun-stroke, <i>nor no earfkwikes,
+neither</i>."</p>
+
+<p>And he smiled&mdash;a delightful, whimsical smile&mdash;though the corporal's
+"Sorry, son" was too late.&mdash;<i>V. Meik, 107 King Henry's Road, N.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A "Bow Bells" Heroine</h3>
+
+<p>For seven hours, with little intermission, the German airmen
+bombed a camp not a hundred miles from Etaples. Of the handful
+of Q.M.A.A.C.s stationed there, one was an eighteen-year-old middle-class
+girl, high-strung, sensitive, not long finished with her convent school.
+Another was Kitty, a Cockney girl of twenty, by occupation a machine-hand,
+by vocation (missed) a comédienne, and, by heaven, a heroine.</p>
+
+<p>The high courage of the younger girl was cracking under the strain of
+that ordeal by bombs. Kitty saw how it was with her, and for five
+long hours she gave a recital of song, dialogue, and dance&mdash;most of it
+improvised&mdash;while the bombs fell and the anti-aircraft guns screamed.
+In all probability she saved the younger girl's reason.</p>
+
+<p>When the last raider had dropped the last bomb, Kitty sank down,
+all but exhausted, and for long cried and laughed hysterically. Hers
+was not the least heroic part played upon that night.&mdash;<i>H. N., London, E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Samson, but Shorn</h3>
+
+<p>During the German attack near Zillebeke in June 1916 a diminutive
+Cockney, named Samson, oddly enough, received a scalp wound
+from a shell splinter which furrowed a neat path through his hair.</p>
+
+<p>The fighting was rather hot at the time, and this great-hearted little
+Londoner carried on with the good work.</p>
+
+<p>Some hours later came the order to fall back, and as the Cockney
+was making his way down the remains of a trench, dazed and staggering,
+a harassed sergeant, himself nearly "all in," ordered him to bear off a
+couple of rifles and a box of ammunition.</p>
+
+<p>This was the last straw. "Strike, sergeant," he said, weakly, "I
+can't 'elp me name being Samson, but I've just 'ad me perishin' 'air
+cut!"&mdash;"<i>Townie," R.A.F.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"What's Bred in the Bone&mdash;&mdash;!"</h3>
+
+<p>When we were at Railway Wood, Ypres Salient, in 1916, "Muddy
+Lane," our only communication trench from the front line to the
+support line, had been reduced to shapelessness by innumerable
+"heavies." Progress in either direction entailed exposure to snipers
+in at least twelve different places, and runners and messengers were, as
+our sergeant put it, "tickled all the way."</p>
+
+<p>In the support line one afternoon, hearing the familiar "Crack!
+Crack! Crack!" I went to Muddy Lane junction to await the advertised
+visitor. He arrived&mdash;a wiry little Cockney Tommy, with his tin hat
+dented in two places and blood trickling from a bullet graze on the cheek.</p>
+
+<p>In appreciation of the risk he had run I remarked, "Jerry seems to be
+watching that bit!"</p>
+
+<p>"Watching!" he replied. "'Struth! I felt like I was walking
+darn Sarthend Pier naked!"&mdash;<i>Vernon Sylvaine, late Somerset L.I.,
+Grand Theatre, Croydon.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Very Human Concertina</h3>
+
+<p>In March 1918, when Jerry was making his last great attack, I was
+in the neighbourhood of Petit Barisis when three enemy bombing
+planes appeared overhead and gave us their load. After all was clear
+I overheard this dialogue between two diminutive privates of the 7th
+Battalion, the London Regiment ("Shiny Seventh"), who were on
+guard duty at the Q.M. Stores:</p>
+
+<p>"You all right, Bill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, George!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where'd you get to, Bill, when he dropped his eggs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Made a blooming concertina of meself and got underneaf me blinkin'
+tin 'at!"&mdash;<i>F. A. Newman, 8 Levett Gardens, Ilford, Ex-Q.M.S., 8th
+London (Post Office Rifles).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A One-Man Army</h3>
+
+<p>The 47th London Division were holding the line in the Bluff sector,
+near Ypres, early in 1917, and the 20th London Battalion were being
+relieved on a very wet evening, as I was going up to the front line with
+a working party.</p>
+
+<p>Near Hell Fire Corner shells were coming over at about three-minute
+intervals. One of the 20th London Lewis gunners was passing in full
+fighting order, with fur coat, gum boots, etc., carrying his Lewis gun,
+several drums of ammunition, and the inevitable rum jar.</p>
+
+<p>One of my working party, a typical Cockney, surveyed him and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Look! Blimey, he only wants a field gun under each arm and he'd
+be a bally division."&mdash;<i>Lieut.-Col. J. H. Langton, D.S.O.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Nah, Mate! Soufend!"</h3>
+
+<p>During the heavy rains in the summer of 1917 our headquarters
+dug-out got flooded. So a fatigue party was detailed to bale it
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"Long Bert" Smith was one of our baling squad. Because of his
+abnormal reach, he was stationed at the "crab-crawl," his job being to
+throw the water outside as we handed the buckets up to him.</p>
+
+<p>It was a dangerous post. Jerry was pasting the whole area unmercifully
+and shell splinters pounded on the dug-out roof every few seconds.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty minutes after we had started work Bert got badly hit, and it
+was some time before the stretcher-bearers could venture out to him.
+When they did so he seemed to be unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor blighter!" said one of the bearers. "Looks to be going
+West."</p>
+
+<p>Bert, game to the last, opened his eyes and, seeing the canvas bucket
+still convulsively clutched in his right fist, "Nah, mate!" he grunted&mdash;"Soufend!"</p>
+
+<p>But the stretcher-bearer was right.&mdash;<i>C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street,
+W.C.I.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I Got 'Ole Nelson Beat!"</h3>
+
+<p>Several stretcher cases in the field dressing station at the foot of
+"Chocolate Hill," Gallipoli, awaited removal by ambulance, including
+a Cockney trooper in the dismounted Yeomanry.</p>
+
+<p>He had a bandage round his head, only one eye was visible, and his
+left arm was bound to his breast with a sandbag.</p>
+
+<p>His rapid-fire of Cockney witticisms had helped to keep our spirits
+up while waiting&mdash;he had a comment for everything. Suddenly a
+"strafe" started, and a shrapnel shell shot its load among us.</p>
+
+<p>Confusion, shouts, and moans&mdash;then a half-hysterical, half-triumphant
+shout from the Cockney: "Lumme, one in the blinkin' leg this time.
+I got 'ole Nelson beat at last!"&mdash;<i>J. Coomer (late R.E.), 31 Hawthorn
+Avenue, Thornton Heath.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Two Kinds of Fatalist</h3>
+
+<p>A German sniper was busy potting at our men in a front-line trench
+at Cambrai in March 1918. A Cockney "old sweat," observing
+a youngster gazing over the parapet, asked him if he were a fatalist.</p>
+
+<p>The youngster replied "Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," said the Cockney, "but I believes in duckin'."&mdash;"<i>Brownie,"
+Kensal Rise, N.W.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Double up, Beauty Chorus!</h3>
+
+<p>One summer afternoon in '15 some lads of the Rifle Brigade were
+bathing in the lake in the grounds of the château at Elverdinghe,
+a mile or so behind the line at Ypres, when German shells began to land
+uncomfortably near. The swimmers immediately made for the land,
+and, drawing only boots on their feet, dashed for the cellar in the
+château.</p>
+
+<p>As they hurried into the shelter a Cockney sergeant bellowed, "Nah
+then, booty chorus: double up an' change for the next act!"&mdash;<i>G E.
+Roberts, M.C. (late Genl. List, att'd 21st Divn. Signal Co.), 28 Sunbury
+Gardens, Mill Hill, N.W.7.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Theatre of War</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of Arras, Easter 1917, we were lying out in front
+of our wire in extended order waiting for our show to begin. Both
+our artillery and that of Fritz were bombarding as hard as they could.
+It was pouring with rain, and everybody was caked in mud.</p>
+
+<p>Our platoon officer, finding he had a good supply of chocolate, and
+realising that rations might not be forthcoming for some time, crept along
+the line and gave us each a piece.</p>
+
+<p>As he handed a packet to one cheerful Cockney he was asked, "Wot
+abaht a programme, sir?"&mdash;<i>W. B. Finch (late London Regiment),
+155 High Road, Felixstowe.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"It's the Skivvy's 'Arf Day Orf"</h3>
+
+<p>Easter Monday, April 9, 1917. Night. Inches of snow and a
+weird silence everywhere after the turmoil of the day. Our battalion
+is held up in front of Monchy-le-Preux during the battle of Arras. I am
+sent out with a patrol to reconnoitre one of our tanks that is crippled and
+astride the German wire 300 yards out.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 541px;">
+<img src="images/i018.jpg" width="541" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I'll have to let yer in meself ... it's the skivvy's 'arf day orf!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is ticklish work, because the crew may be dead or wounded and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+Fritz in occupation. Very warily we creep around the battered monster
+and presently I tap gingerly on one of the doors. No response. We
+crawl to the other side and repeat the tapping process. At last, through
+the eerie silence, comes a low, hoarse challenge.</p>
+
+<p>"Oo are yer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fusiliers!" I reply, as I look up and see a tousled head sticking
+through a hole in the roof.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho!" exclaims the voice above, "I'll 'ave ter come dahn and let
+yer in meself, it's the skivvy's 'arf day orf!"</p>
+
+<p>The speaker proved to have a shattered arm&mdash;among other things&mdash;and
+was the sole survivor of the crew.&mdash;<i>D. K., Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cricket on the Somme</h3>
+
+<p>"Spider" Webb was a Cockney&mdash;from Stepney, I believe&mdash;who
+was with us on the Somme in 1916. He was a splendid cricketer.</p>
+
+<p>We had had a very stiff time for six or seven hours and were resting
+during a lull in the firing. Then suddenly Jerry sent over five shells.
+After a pause another shell came over and burst near to "Spider" and
+his two pals.</p>
+
+<p>When the smoke cleared I went across to see what had happened.
+"Spider's" two pals were beyond help. The Cockney was propping
+himself up with his elbows surveying the scene.</p>
+
+<p>"What's happened, Webb?" I said. "Blimey! What's happened?"
+was the reply. "One over&mdash;two bowled" (and, looking
+down at his leg)&mdash;"and I'm stumped." Then he fainted.&mdash;<i>George
+Franks, M.C. (late Lieut., Royal Artillery), Ilford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>M'Lord, of Hoxton</h3>
+
+<p>We called him "M'lord." He came from Hoxton&mdash;"That's where
+they make 'em," he used to say. He was a great asset to us, owing
+to the wonderful way in which he went out and "won" things.</p>
+
+<p>One night, near Amiens, in 1916, "M'lord" said, "I'm going aht to see
+wot some uvver mob has got too much of." One or two of us offered to
+accompany him, but he refused, saying, "You bloomin' elephants 'ud
+be bahnd to give the gime away."</p>
+
+<p>About three hours later, when we were beginning to get anxious, we
+saw him staggering in with a badly wounded German, who was smoking
+a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing us, and very much afraid of being thought soft-hearted,
+"M'lord" plumped old Fritz down on the fire-step and said very fiercely,
+"Don't you dare lean on me wif impunity, or wif a fag in your mouf."</p>
+
+<p>Jerry told us later that he had lain badly wounded in a deserted
+farmhouse for over two days, and "M'lord" had almost carried him
+for over a mile.</p>
+
+<p>"M'lord" was killed later on in the war. Our battalion was the 7th
+Batt. Royal Fusiliers (London Regt.)&mdash;<i>W. A., Windsor.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Tall Man's War</h3>
+
+<p>In our platoon was a very tall chap who was always causing us great
+amusement because of his height. Naturally he showed his head
+above the parapet more often than the rest of us, and whenever he did so
+<i>ping</i> would come a bullet from a sniper and down our tall chum would
+drop in an indescribably funny acrobatic fashion.</p>
+
+<p>The climax came at Delville Wood in August 1916, when, taking over
+the line, we found the trench knocked about in a way that made it most
+uncomfortable for all of us. Here our tall friend had to resort to his
+acrobatics more than ever: at times he would crawl on all fours to
+"dodge 'em." One shot, however, caused him to dive down more
+quickly than usual&mdash;right into a sump hole in the trench.</p>
+
+<p>Recovering himself, he turned to us and, with an expression of unutterable
+disgust, exclaimed, "You blokes can laugh; anybody 'ud
+fink I was the only blighter in this war."&mdash;<i>C. Bragg (late Rifle Brigade,
+14th Division), 61 Hinton Road, Herne Hill, S.E.24.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Germany Didn't Know This</h3>
+
+<p>One night in June 1916, on the Somme, we were ordered to leave
+our line and go over and dig an advance trench. We returned to our
+trench before dawn, and shortly afterwards my chum, "Pussy" Harris,
+said to me, "I have left my rifle in No Man's Land."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," I said, "there are plenty more. Don't go over
+there: the snipers are sure to get you."</p>
+
+<p>But my advice was all in vain; he insisted on going. When I asked
+him why he wanted that particular rifle he said, "Well, the barrel is
+bent, <i>and it can shoot round corners</i>."</p>
+
+<p>He went over....</p>
+
+<p>That night I saw the regimental carpenter going along the trench
+with a roughly-made wooden cross inscribed "R.I.P. Pte. Harris."&mdash;<i>W.
+Ford, 613 Becontree Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Better than the Crystal Palace</h3>
+
+<p>One night, while going round the line at Loos, I was accompanied
+by Sergeant Winslow, who was a London coster before the war.</p>
+
+<p>We were examining the field of fire of a Lewis gun, when the Germans
+opened up properly on our sector. Clouds of smoke rose from the
+surrounding trenches, crash after crash echoed around the old Loos
+crassier, and night was turned into day by Verey lights sent up by both
+sides.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a lad of 18, just out, turned to Sergeant Winslow, and in a
+quivering voice said: "My God, sergeant, this is awful!"</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Winslow replied: "Now, look 'ere, me lad, you'd have
+paid 'alf a dollar to take your best gal to see this at the Crystal Palace
+before the war. What are yer grousing abaht?"&mdash;<i>A. E. Grant (late
+17th Welch Regt.), 174 Broom Road, Teddington.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Short Week-end</h3>
+
+<p>One Saturday evening I was standing by my dug-out in Sausage
+Valley, near Fricourt, when a draft of the Middlesex Regt. halted
+for the guide to take them up to the front line where the battalion was.
+I had a chat with one of the lads, who told me he had left England on
+the Friday.</p>
+
+<p>They moved off, and soon things got lively; a raid and counter-raid
+started.</p>
+
+<p>Later the casualties began to come down, and the poor chaps were
+lying around outside the 1st C.C.S. (which was next to my dug-out).
+On a stretcher was my friend of the draft. He was pretty badly hit.
+I gave him a cigarette and tried to cheer him by telling him he would
+soon be back in England. With a feeble smile he said, "Blimey, sir,
+this 'as been a short week-end, ain't it?"&mdash;<i>Pope Stamper (15th Durham
+L.I.), 188A Upper Richmond Road, East Sheen, S.W.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Simultaneous Chess</h3>
+
+<p>At Aubers Ridge, near Fromelles, in October 1918, my chum and I
+were engrossed in a game of chess, our chessboard being a waterproof
+sheet with the squares painted on it, laid across a slab of concrete
+from a destroyed pill-box.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans began to drop 5·9's with alarming regularity about 150
+yards to our rear, temporarily distracting our attention from the game.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the game, I said to my chum, "Whose move, Joe?"</p>
+
+<p>Before he could reply a shell landed with a deafening roar within a
+few yards of us, but luckily did not explode (hence this story).</p>
+
+<p>His reply was: "Ours"&mdash;and we promptly did.&mdash;<i>B. Greenfield, M.M.
+(late Cpl. R.F.A., 47th (London) Division), L.C.C. Parks Dept., Tooting
+Bec Common, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Fire-step Philosophy</h3>
+
+<p>On July 1, 1916, I happened to be among those concerned in the
+attack on the German line in front of Serre, near Beaumont Hamel.
+Our onslaught at that point was not conspicuously successful, but we
+managed to establish ourselves temporarily in what had been the Boche
+front line, to the unconcealed indignation of the previous tenants.</p>
+
+<p>During a short lull in the subsequent proceedings I saw one of my
+company&mdash;an elderly private whose melancholy countenance and
+lank black moustache will ever remain engraved on my memory&mdash;seated
+tranquilly on the battered fire-step, engrossed in a certain humorous
+journal.</p>
+
+<p>Meeting my astonished eye, he observed in a tone of mild resentment:
+"This 'ere's a dud, sir. 'S not a joke in it&mdash;not what <i>I</i> calls a joke,
+anyway."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he rose, pocketed the paper, and proceeded placidly to get
+on with the war.&mdash;<i>K. R. G. Browne, 6B Winchester Road, N.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Teddie" Gets the Last Word</h3>
+
+<p>Sergeant "Teddie" was rather deaf, but I am inclined to think
+that this slight affliction enabled him to pull our legs on occasions.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i022.jpg" width="600" height="552" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"A quarter to seven, sir."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Our company of the London Regiment had just taken over a part of
+the line known as the Paris Redoubt, and on the first evening in the
+sector the company commander, the second in command, Sergeant
+"Teddie," and myself had a stroll along the observation line, which
+was just forward of the front line, in order to visit the various posts.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a salvo of shells came over and one burst perilously near us.
+Three of the party adopted the prone position in record time, but on our
+looking round "Teddie" was seen to be still standing and apparently
+quite unconcerned.</p>
+
+<p>"Why the dickens didn't you get down?" said one of the party,
+turning to him. "It nearly had us that time."</p>
+
+<p>"Time?" said "Teddie," looking at his watch. "A quarter to
+seven, sir."&mdash;<i>J. S. O. (late C.S.M., 15th London Regt.).</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Nobbler's" Grouse</h3>
+
+<p>Just before the battle of Messines we of the 23rd Londons were
+holding the Bluff sector to the right of Hill 60. "Stand down" was
+the order, and the sergeant was coming round with the rum.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobbler," late of the Mile End Road, was watching him in joyful
+anticipation when ... a whizz-bang burst on the parapet, hurling
+men in all directions. No one was hurt ... but the precious rum jar
+was shattered.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobbler," sitting up in the mud and moving his tin hat from his left
+eye the better to gaze upon the ruin, murmured bitterly: "Louvain&mdash;Rheims&mdash;the
+<i>Lusitania</i>&mdash;and now our perishin' rum issue. Jerry, you
+'eathen, you gets worse and worse. But, my 'at, won't you cop it when
+'Aig knows abaht this!"&mdash;<i>E. H. Oliver, Lanark House, Woodstock,
+Oxford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Dust in 'Indenburg's Sauerkraut!</h3>
+
+<p>To all those thousands who remember Shrapnel Corner and the
+sign: "DRIVE SLOWLY! SPEED CAUSES DUST WHICH
+DRAWS THE ENEMY'S SHELL FIRE" this incident will appeal.</p>
+
+<p>I had rounded the corner into Zillebeke Road with a load of ammunition,
+and had gone about 200 yards along the road, when Fritz let go
+with a few shells.</p>
+
+<p>"Rum Ration" (my mate's nick-name) looked out of the lorry to
+observe where the shells were falling.</p>
+
+<p>"Nah we're for it," he exclaimed, "our dust must 'ave gorn into
+ole 'Indenberg's blinkin' sauerkraut."&mdash;<i>J. H. Clarke, ex-Pte., M.T.A.S.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Valiant Son of London</h3>
+
+<p>Crack! Crack! Crack!&mdash;and men falling with each crack.
+It is terrible; we are faced with mud, misery, and despair. A German
+machine-gun is taking its toll.</p>
+
+<p>It seems impossible to get at the gunners, and we spend hours lying
+in wait. This waiting proves too much for one of us; single-handed he
+takes a chance and crawls away from my side. I keep him covered;
+minutes roll by; they seem hours, days; and, as he is now out of sight,
+I begin to give up hope for him, my Cockney pal.</p>
+
+<p>Some instinct warns me to keep watch, and I am rewarded. I feel my
+eyes start from my head as I see the approaching procession&mdash;four
+Germans, hands above their heads, and my pal following, carrying the
+machine-gun across his shoulders. I marvel at his courage and wonder
+how it was done ... but this I am never to know. As I leap from the
+trench to give him assistance I realise his number is nearly up. He is
+covered with blood.</p>
+
+<p>I go to relieve him of his burden, and in that moment one of the
+Germans, sensing that my pal is almost out, turns on us with his
+revolver. We are held at the pistol-point and I know I must make a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+desperate bid to save my pal, who has done his best in an act which saved
+a portion of our line.</p>
+
+<p>I drop the gun and, with a quick movement, I am able to trip the
+nearest German, but he is quick too and manages to stick me (and I still
+carry the mark of his bayonet in my side).</p>
+
+<p>The realisation I am still able to carry on, that life is sweet, holds me
+up, and, with a pluck that showed his determination and Cockney
+courage, my pal throws himself into a position in which he can work the
+gun. <i>Crack!</i> and <i>Crack!</i> again: the remaining Germans are brought
+down.</p>
+
+<p>I am weak with loss of blood, but I am still able to drag my pal with
+me, and, aided by his determination, we get through. It seems we
+are at peace with the world. But, alas, when only five yards from our
+trenches a shell bursts beside us; I have a stinging pain in my shoulder
+and cannot move! Machine-guns and rifles are playing hell.</p>
+
+<p>My pal, though mortally wounded, still tries to drag me to our trench.
+He reaches the parapet ... <i>Zip</i> ... <i>Zip</i>. The first has missed, but
+the second gets him. It is a fatal shot, and, though in the greatest
+agony, he manages to give me a message to his folks....</p>
+
+<p>He died at my side, unrewarded by man. The stretcher-bearer told
+me that he had five bullet-holes in him. He lies in France to-day, and
+I owe my life to him, and again I pay homage to his memory and to him
+as one of England's greatest heroes&mdash;a Valiant Son of London.&mdash;<i>John
+Batten (late Rifleman, 13 Bn., K.R.R.C.), 50 Sussex Gardens, Hyde Park,
+W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Hint to the Brigadier</h3>
+
+<p>Alec Lancaster was a showman at the White City in pre-war
+days. Short in stature, he possessed a mighty heart, and in the
+ghastly days in front of Poelcapelle he made history as the sergeant who
+took command of a brigadier.</p>
+
+<p>The brigadier had been on a visit to the front line to inspect a new
+belt of wire and, passing the &mdash;&mdash; headquarters, paused to look around.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a few shells came over in quick succession and things looked
+nasty.</p>
+
+<p>Alec Lancaster took command and guided the brigadier somewhat
+forcibly into a dug-out with the laconic, "Nah, then. We don't want
+any dead brigadiers rahnd 'ere."&mdash;<i>Geo. B. Fuller, 146 Rye Road, Hoddesdon,
+Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Salvage? Yus, Me!"</h3>
+
+<p>On the third day of the German offensive in March 1918 a certain
+brigade of the R.F.A. was retiring on Péronne.</p>
+
+<p>A driver, hailing from London town, was in charge of the cook's cart,
+which contained officers' kits belonging to the headquarters' staff.</p>
+
+<p>As he was making his way along a "pip-squeak" came over and
+burst practically beneath the vehicle and blew the whole issue to pieces.
+The driver had a miraculous escape.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When he recovered from the shock he ruefully surveyed the debris,
+and after deciding that nothing could be done, continued his journey
+on foot into Péronne.</p>
+
+<p>Just outside that town he was met by the Adjutant, who said, "Hullo,
+driver, what's happened&mdash;where's cook's cart with the kits?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Driver</span>: Blown up, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Adjutant</span> (<i>anxiously</i>): Anything salved?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Driver</span>: Yus, sir, me!&mdash;<i>F. H. Seabright, 12 Broomhill Road, Goodmayes,
+Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Almost Self-inflicted</h3>
+
+<p>The London (47th) Division, after a strenuous time on the Somme
+in September 1916, were sent to Ypres for a quiet (?) spell, the
+depleted ranks being made up by reserves from home who joined us <i>en
+route</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The 18th Battalion (London Irish), were informed on taking the line
+that their opponents were men of the very same German regiment as
+they had opposed and vanquished at High Wood.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after "stand down" the following morning Rifleman S&mdash;&mdash;
+mounted the fire-step and, cupping his hands to his mouth, shouted,
+"Compree 'Igh Wood, Fritz?"</p>
+
+<p>The words had hardly left his lips when <i>zip</i>, a sniper's bullet knocked
+his tin hat off his head and Rifleman S&mdash;&mdash; found himself lying on the
+duckboards with blood running down his face.</p>
+
+<p>Picking himself up, he calmly gathered his souvenirs together and said
+as he made his way out, "Cheerio, boys, I've got a Blighty one, but
+don't tell the colonel it was self-inflicted."&mdash;<i>A. C. B., Ilford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Nobby's 1,000 to 1 Chance</h3>
+
+<p>Our division (the Third) was on its way from the line for the long-looked-for
+rest. We were doing it by road in easy stages.</p>
+
+<p>During a halt a pack animal (with its load of two boxes of "·303")
+became restive and bolted. One box fell off and was being dragged by
+the lashing. Poor old Nobby Clarke, who had been out since Mons,
+stopped the box with his leg, which was broken below the knee.</p>
+
+<p>As he was being carried away one of the stretcher-bearers said, "Well,
+Nobby, you've got a Blighty one at last."</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," said Nobby; "but it took a fousand rahnds to knock me
+over."&mdash;<i>H. Krepper (late 5th Fusiliers), 62 Anerley Road, Upper Norwood,
+S.E. 19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Derby Scheme</h3>
+
+<p>The Commanding Officer of a Territorial battalion was wounded in
+both hands during the third battle of Gaza in 1917. He had much
+service to his credit, was a lieutenant-colonel of over two years' standing,
+had been wounded twice before, and held the D.S.O.</p>
+
+<p>He pluckily remained with his unit for thirty-six hours. Then, worn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+out with lack of sleep, pain, and loss of blood, and filled with disappointment
+at having to leave his battalion still in the fight, he trudged back to
+the field ambulance.</p>
+
+<p>His sufferings, which had aged his appearance, and the Tommy's
+tunic which he wore in action, apparently misled a party of 10th London
+men whom he passed. They looked sympathetically at him, and one
+said, "Poor old blighter, <i>'e ought never to 'ave been called up</i>."&mdash;<i>Captain
+J. Finn, M.C., Constitutional Club, W.C.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Shoo-Shoo-Shooting"</h3>
+
+<p>There were no proper trenches in front of Armentières in early
+December 1914, and a machine gun section was doing its best to
+build an emplacement and cover. It was in the charge of a young
+Londoner who in times of excitement stuttered badly.</p>
+
+<p>Not being satisfied with the position of one sandbag, he hopped over
+those already in place, and in full view of Jerry (it was daylight too),
+began to adjust the sandbag that displeased him.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry immediately turned a machine gun on him, but the young officer
+finished his work, and then stood up.</p>
+
+<p>Looking towards Jerry as the section yelled to him to come down, he
+stuttered angrily. "I b-b-be-lieve the bli-bli-blighters are shoo-shoo-shoo-shoo-ting
+at me." At that moment someone grabbed his legs and
+pulled him down. It was a fine example of cool nerve.&mdash;<i>T. D., Victoria,
+S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Ancient Britons?&mdash;No!</h3>
+
+<p>It happened late in 1917 in Tank Avenue, just on the left of Monchy-le-Preux.
+It was a foul night of rain, wind, sleet, and whizz-bangs.</p>
+
+<p>My battalion had just been relieved, and we were making our way
+out as best we could down the miry communication trench. Every now
+and again we had to halt and press ourselves against the trench side to
+allow a straggling working party of the K.R.R.s to pass up into the line.</p>
+
+<p>Shells were falling all over the place, and suddenly Fritz dropped one
+right into the trench a few bays away from where I was.</p>
+
+<p>I hurried down and found two of the working party lying on the
+duckboards. They were both wounded, and one of them had his tunic
+ripped off him by the force of the explosion. What with his tattered
+uniform&mdash;and what remained of it&mdash;and his face and bare chest smothered
+in mud, he was a comical though pathetic sight. He still clung to his
+bundle of pickets he had been carrying and he sat up and looked round
+with a puzzled expression.</p>
+
+<p>One of our sergeants&mdash;a rather officious fellow&mdash;pushed himself
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he asked. "K.R.R.s?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Course," retorted the half-naked Cockney. "Oo d'ye fink we was&mdash;Ancient
+Britons?"&mdash;<i>E. Gordon Petrie (late Cameron Highlanders),
+"Hunky-Dory," Demesne Road, Wallington, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Desert Island&mdash;Near Bullecourt</h3>
+
+<p>Between Ecoust and Bullecourt in January 1918 my platoon
+was passing a mine crater which was half-full of water when suddenly
+Jerry sent one over. Six of our fellows were wounded, and one of them,
+a Bow Road Cockney, was hurled into the crater.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 492px;">
+<img src="images/i027.jpg" width="492" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Robinson Crusoe."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He struggled to his feet and staggered towards a pile of rubble that
+rose above the muddy water like an island. Arrived there, he sat down
+and looked round him in bewilderment.
+Then: "Blimey," he muttered, "Robinson ruddy Crusoe!"&mdash;<i>E.
+McQuaid (late R.S.F.), 22 Grove Road, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Tiger's" Little Trick</h3>
+
+<p>On October 11-12, 1914, during the Mons retreat, a small party of
+2nd Life Guards were told off as outpost on the main road, near
+Wyngene, Belgium. After we had tied our horses behind a farmhouse
+at the side of the road, we settled down to await the arrival of "Jerry."</p>
+
+<p>Time went slowly, and one of our troopers suggested that we all put
+a half-franc into an empty "bully" tin, and the first one of us who shot
+a German was to take the lot. To this we all agreed.</p>
+
+<p>It was about midnight when, suddenly, out of the shadows, rode a
+German Death's-head Hussar. We all raised our rifles as one man, but
+before we could shoot "Tiger" Smith, one of our real Cockney troopers,
+shouted, "<i>Don't shoot! Don't shoot!</i>" During our momentary hesitation
+"Tiger's" rifle rang out, and off rolled the German into the road.</p>
+
+<p>Upon our indignant inquiry as to why he had shouted "Don't shoot,"
+"Tiger" quietly said, "Nah, then, none of your old buck; just hand
+over that tin of 'alf francs I've won."&mdash;<i>Fred Bruty (late Corporal of Horse,
+2nd Life Guards), City of London Police Dwellings, No. 3, Ferndale Court,
+Ferndale Road, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Raffle Draw To-night!</h3>
+
+<p>Near St. Quentin, in October 1918, I was in charge of a section
+that was detailed to cross a railway to establish communication
+with troops on the other side. Unfortunately we were spotted by a
+German machine gunner, who made things very hot for us, two men
+being quickly hit. We managed, however, to reach a small mound
+where, by lying quite flat, we were comparatively safe.</p>
+
+<p>Glancing in the direction from which we had come, I saw a man whom
+I recognised as "Topper" Brown, our company runner, dashing as hard
+as he could for the cover where we had sheltered.</p>
+
+<p>"How do, corp?" he said when he came up. "Any of your blokes
+like to go in a raffle for this watch?" (producing same). "'Arf a franc
+a time; draw to-night in St. Quentin."&mdash;<i>S. Hills (late Rifle Brigade),
+213, Ripple Road, Barking.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Exit the General's Dessert</h3>
+
+<p>In the early part of the War we were dug in between the Marne and the
+Aisne with H.Q. situated in a trench along which were growing
+several fruit trees which the troops were forbidden to touch.</p>
+
+<p>The Boche were shelling with what was then considered to be heavy
+stuff, and we were all more or less under cover, when a large one hit
+the back of the trench near H.Q.</p>
+
+<p>After the mess staff had recovered from the shock it was noticed that
+apples were still falling from a tree just above, and the mess corporal,
+his ears and eyes still full of mud, was heard to say: "Thank 'eaven, I
+shan't have to climb that perishin' tree and get the old man's bloomin'
+dessert to-night."&mdash;<i>E. Adamson, Overseas Club, St. James's.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Try on this Coat, Sir"</h3>
+
+<p>In September 1916, while with the 17th K.R.R.C., I lost my overcoat
+in a billet fire at Mailly-Maillet and indented for a new one, which,
+however, failed to turn up.</p>
+
+<p>We moved to Hebuterne, where the line was very lively and the
+working parties used to be strafed with "Minnies" all night.</p>
+
+<p>One night, while on patrol, with nerves on the jump, I was startled to
+hear a voice at my elbow say, "Try this on."</p>
+
+<p>It was the Q.M.'s corporal with the overcoat!</p>
+
+<p>I solemnly tried it on there and then in No Man's Land, about 300
+yards in front of our front line and not very far from the German line.</p>
+
+<p>The corporal quite casually explained that he had some difficulty in
+finding me out there in the dark, but he did not want the trouble of
+carrying stuff out of the line when we moved!&mdash;<i>S. W. Chuckerbutty,
+(L.R.B. and K.R.R.C.), 3 Maida Hill West, London, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>On the Kaiser's Birthday</h3>
+
+<p>In the Brickstacks at Givenchy, 1916. The Germans were celebrating
+the Kaiser's birthday by putting a steady succession of "Minnies"
+into and around our front line trench.</p>
+
+<p>Just when the strain was beginning to tell and nerves were getting
+jumpy, a little Cockney corporal jumped on the fire-step and, shaking
+his fist at the Germans forty yards away, bawled, "You wait till it's
+<i>my</i> ruddy birthday!"</p>
+
+<p>Fritz didn't wait two seconds, but the little corporal had got his laugh
+and wasn't taking a curtain.&mdash;<i>"Bison" (late R.W.F.).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Chuck us yer Name Plate!"</h3>
+
+<p>In June 1917 we were ordered to lay a line to the front line at "Plug
+Street". Fritz started to bombard us with whizz-bangs, and my pal
+and I took cover behind a heap of sandbags, noticing at the same time
+that all the infantrymen were getting away from the spot.</p>
+
+<p>When things quietened down we heard a Cockney voice shouting,
+"Hi, mate! Chuck us yer name plate (identification disc). Y're sitting
+up against our bomb store."&mdash;<i>S. Doust (late Signal Section, "F" Battery,
+R.H.A.), 53 Wendover Road, Well Hall, Eltham, S.E.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>To Hold His Hand</h3>
+
+<p>While on our way to relieve the 1st R.W.F.s, who were trying their
+utmost to hold a position in front of Mametz Wood, it was necessary
+to cross a road, very much exposed to Jerry's machine guns.</p>
+
+<p>A burst of firing greeted our attempt, and when we succeeded, a
+Cockney who had a flesh wound caused a smile by saying, "Go back?
+Not me. Next time I crosses a road I wants a blinking copper ter 'old
+me 'and?"&mdash;<i>G. Furnell, 57a Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The New Landlord</h3>
+
+<p>During an advance on the Somme in 1916 my company was rushed
+up to the captured trenches to search the dug-outs and to bring in
+the prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>My Cockney pal was evidently enjoying himself. As he went from one
+dug-out to another he was singing:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+"Orl that I want is lo-ove,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Orl that I want is yew."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Entering one dug-out, however, his voice suddenly changed. In the
+dug-out were three Germans. Showing them the point of his bayonet,
+the Cockney roared: "Nah, then, aht of it; 'op it. I'm lan'lord 'ere
+nah."&mdash;<i>C. Grimwade, 26 Rotherhithe New Road, Rotherhithe, S.E.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Out of Bounds" in the Line</h3>
+
+<p>One night in October '14, in the neighbourhood of Herlies, "Ginger,"
+a reservist, was sent out to call in the men of a listening post.</p>
+
+<p>Dawn came, but no "Ginger" returned, and as he did not turn up
+during the day he was given up for lost.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after dusk, however, a very worn and fed-up "Ginger" returned.
+We gathered that he had suddenly found himself in the German lines,
+had had a "dust-up," had got away, and had lain out in No Man's Land
+until dusk allowed him to get back.</p>
+
+<p>The company officer was inclined to be cross with him, and asked him,
+"But what made you go so far as the enemy position?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ginger" scratched his head, and then replied, "Well, sir, nobody
+said anyfink to me abaht it being aht o' bahnds."&mdash;<i>T. L. Barling (late
+Royal Fusiliers), 21 Lockhart Street, Bow, E.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Epic of the Whistling Nine</h3>
+
+<p>On May 14, 1917, the 2/2nd Battalion of the London Regiment
+occupied the support lines in front of Bullecourt. "A" company's
+position was a thousand yards behind the front line trenches. At 2 p.m.
+the enemy began to subject the whole area to an intense bombardment
+which lasted more than thirteen hours.</p>
+
+<p>In the middle of the bombardment (which was described by the
+G.O.C.-in-Chief as "the most intense bombardment British troops had
+had to withstand"), No. 3 platoon of "A" company was ordered to
+proceed to the front line with bombs for the battalion holding it. The
+platoon consisted of 31 N.C.O.s and men and one officer.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>The only means of communication between the support and front
+lines was a trench of an average depth of two feet. Along this trench
+the platoon proceeded, carrying between them forty boxes of Mills
+bombs. Every few yards there were deep shell holes to cross; tangled
+telephone wires tripped the men; M. G. bullets swept across the trench,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+and heavy shells obtained direct hits frequently, while shrapnel burst
+overhead without cessation.</p>
+
+<p>A man was hit every few minutes; those nearest him rendered what
+aid was possible, unless he was already dead; his bombs were carried
+on by another.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Of the thirty-one who started, twenty-one were killed or wounded;
+the remainder, having taken an hour and a half to cover the 1,000 yards,
+reached the front line <i>with the forty boxes of bombs intact</i>.</p>
+
+<p>They were ordered to remain, and thus found themselves assisting in
+repulsing an attack made by the 3rd Lehr Regiment of Prussian Guards,
+and two of the men succeeded in wounding and capturing the commanding
+officer of the attacking regiment.</p>
+
+<p>Of the ten N.C.O.s and men who were left, a lance-corporal was blown
+to pieces in the trench; the remainder stayed in the front line until
+they were relieved four days later. On their way back, through Vaux
+Vraucourt, they picked clusters of May blossom, and with these in their
+equipment and rifle barrels, marched into the transport lines whistling.&mdash;<i>Captain,
+London Regiment.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Tale of a Cook and a "Crump"</h3>
+
+<p>Our cook was having the time of his life. The transition from trench
+warfare to more or less open warfare in late October 1918 brought
+with it a welcome change of diet in the form of pigs and poultry from the
+deserted farms, and cook had captured a nice young porker and two
+brace of birds.</p>
+
+<p>From the pleasant aroma which reached us from the cottage as we lay
+on our backs watching a German aeroplane we knew that cook would
+soon be announcing the feast was ready.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly from the blue came a roar like that of an express train.
+We flung ourselves into the ditch.... <i>K-k-k-k-r-r-r-ump!</i></p>
+
+<p>When the smoke and dust cleared away the cottage was just a rubbish
+heap, but there was cook, most miraculously crawling out from beneath
+a debris of rafters, beams, and bricks!</p>
+
+<p>"Ruddy 'orseplay!" was the philosopher's comment.&mdash;<i>I. O., 19
+Burnell Road, Sutton, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"&mdash;&mdash; Returns the Penny"</h3>
+
+<p>When my husband commanded the 41st Division in France he was
+much struck by the ready wit of a private of the Royal Fusiliers
+(City of London Regiment) in a tight corner.</p>
+
+<p>A bomb landed in a crowded dug-out while the men were having a
+meal. Everyone stared aghast at this ball of death except one Tommy,
+who promptly picked it up and flung it outside saying: "Grite stren'th
+returns the penny, gentlemen!" as he returned to his bully beef.&mdash;<i>Lady
+Lawford, London, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"In Time for the Workman's?"</h3>
+
+<p>A night wire-cutting party in the Arras sector had been surprised
+by daylight. All the members of the party (21st London Regiment)
+crawled back safely except one Cockney rifleman.</p>
+
+<p>When we had reached the trenches and found that he was missing,
+we were a bit upset. Would he have to lie out in No Man's Land all
+day? Would he be spotted by snipers?</p>
+
+<p>After a while our doubts were answered by a terrific burst from the
+German machine guns. Some of the bolder spirits peered over the top
+of the "bags" and saw our Cockney pal rushing, head down, towards
+our line while streams of death poured around him.</p>
+
+<p>He reached our parapet, fell down amongst us in the mud, uninjured,
+and immediately jumped to his feet and said, "Am I in time for the
+workman's?"&mdash;<i>D. F., Acton, W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Lovely Record</h3>
+
+<p>The Time: March 1916.</p>
+
+<p>The Scene: The Talus des Zouaves&mdash;a narrow valley running
+behind Vimy Ridge from Neuville St. Vaast through Souchez. The
+weather is bleak, and there is a sticky drizzle&mdash;it is towards dusk.</p>
+
+<p>The Man: A native of "somewhere just awf the 'Bricklayers Arms'&mdash;you
+know where that is, sir." Height, just over 5 feet; complexion,
+red; hair, red and not over tidy; appearance, awkward; clothes don't
+seem to fit quite. Distinguishing marks&mdash;a drooping red moustache
+almost concealing a short clay pipe, stuck bowl sideways in the corner of
+the mouth. On the face there is a curious&mdash;whimsical&mdash;wistful, in fact,
+a Cockney expression.</p>
+
+<p>The Occasion: The Boche is putting down his evening "strafe"&mdash;an
+intense and very accurate barrage laid like a curtain on the southern
+slope of the valley. Our hero, his hands closed round the stock of his
+rifle held between his knees, is squatting unconcernedly on the wet ground
+in the open on the northern side of the valley, where only a shell with a
+miraculous trajectory could have scored a direct hit, watching the shells
+burst almost every second not a great distance away. The din and
+pandemonium are almost unbearable. Fragments of H.E. and shrapnel
+are dropping very near.</p>
+
+<p>The Remark: Removing his pipe to reveal the flicker of a smile, he
+remarked, in his inimitable manner: "<i>Lor' blimey, guv'nor, wouldn't
+this sahnd orl rite on a grammerphone?</i>"&mdash;<i>Gordon Edwards, M.C. (Captain,
+late S.W.B.), "Fairholm," 48 Alexandra Road, Wimbledon, S.W.19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Logic in No Man's Land</h3>
+
+<p>Fritz had been knocking our wire about, and a party of us were
+detailed to repair it. One of our party, a trifle more windy than the
+rest, kept ducking at the stray bullets that were whistling by. Finally,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+'Erb, who was holding the coil of wire, said to him, "Can't yer stop
+that bobbin' abaht? They won't 'urt yer unless they 'its yer."&mdash;<i>C. Green,
+44 Monson Road, New Cross, S.E.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Fousands ... and Millions</h3>
+
+<p>It was on the Mons-Condé Canal, on the afternoon of August 23,
+1914. Our artillery had just opened up when a tiny Cockney
+trumpeter, who could not have been more than 15 years old, came
+galloping up to us with a message.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i033.jpg" width="600" height="564" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"They're coming on in millions."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"How are the gunners going on, boy?" said my captain.</p>
+
+<p>"Knocking 'em down in fousands, sir," replied the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," said the captain.</p>
+
+<p>"Yus, and they're coming on in millions," replied the boy as he rode
+away to his battery.</p>
+
+<p>A plucky kid, that.&mdash;<i>W. H. White, 29 Clive Road, Colliers Wood,
+S.W.19.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lost: A Front Line</h3>
+
+<p>Two or three American officers were attached to our brigade H.Q.
+on the Somme front.</p>
+
+<p>We were doing our usual four days in the front line when one morning
+an American officer emerged from the communication trench. Just
+then the Germans opened out with everything from a 5·9 to rifle grenade.
+We squeezed into funk-holes in the bottom of the trench. Presently
+there was a lull, and the American officer was heard to ask, "Say, boys,
+where is the front line in these parts?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tich," a little Cockney from Euston way, extracted himself from the
+earth, and exclaimed, "Strike! j'ear that? Wot jer fink this is&mdash;a
+blinkin' rifle range?"&mdash;<i>W. Wheeler (late 23rd Battalion Royal Fusiliers),
+55 Turney Road, Dulwich, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"If Our Typist Could See Me Nah"</h3>
+
+<p>Imagine (if you can) the mud on the Somme at its worst. A Royal
+Marine Artilleryman (a very junior clerk from "Lambeff") was
+struggling up the gentle slope behind Trones Wood with a petrol tin of
+precious water in either hand. A number of us were admiring his manly
+efforts from a distance when the sudden familiar shriek was heard,
+followed by the equally familiar bang.</p>
+
+<p>We saw him thrown to the ground as the whizz-bang burst but a few
+feet from him, and we rushed down, certain that he had "got his."
+Imagine our surprise on being greeted by an apparition that had
+struggled to a sitting posture, liberally plastered with mud, and a wound
+in the shoulder, who hoarsely chuckled and said: "If our typist could
+see me <i>nah</i>!"&mdash;<i>C. H. F. (W/Opr. attached R.M.A. Heavy Brigade).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Q! Q! Queue!</h3>
+
+<p>The scene was an observation post in the top of a (late) colliery
+chimney, 130 ft. up, on the outskirts of Béthune, during the last
+German offensive of the War.</p>
+
+<p>A great deal of heavy shelling was in progress in our immediate vicinity,
+and many of Fritz's "high-velocities" were screaming past our lofty
+pinnacle, which was swaying with the concussion. At any moment
+a direct hit was possible.</p>
+
+<p>My Cockney mate had located a hostile battery, and after some difficulty
+with the field telephone was giving the bearing to headquarters.</p>
+
+<p>Faults in the line seemed to prevent him from finishing his message,
+which consisted of giving the map square (Q 20) being "strafed." The
+"Q" simply would not reach the ears of the corporal at headquarters,
+and after many fruitless efforts, using "Q" words, I heard him burst
+out in exasperation: "Q! Q! Queue! ... Blimey! you know&mdash;the
+blinkin' thing wot the pore blighters at home wite abaht for 'mawgarine'
+in."&mdash;<i>B. W. Whayman (late F.S.C., R.E.), 24 Oxford Street, Boston,
+Lincolnshire.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Fine 'eads er Salery!"</h3>
+
+<p>We were in a deep railway cutting near Gouzeancourt. Jerry's
+aeroplanes had found us and his artillery was trying to shift us.</p>
+
+<p>On the third day we had run out of cigarettes, so the sergeant-major
+asked for a volunteer to go to a canteen four miles away.</p>
+
+<p>Our Cockney, a costermonger well known in the East End, volunteered.
+He could neither read nor write, so we fixed him up with francs, a sandbag,
+and a list.</p>
+
+<p>Hours passed, the strafe became particularly heavy, and we began to
+fear our old pal had been hit.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly during a lull in the shelling far away along the ravine we
+heard a voice shouting, "Ere's yer fine 'eads er salery 'orl white." He
+was winning through.&mdash;<i>"Sparks," Lowestoft, Suffolk.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Old Soldier Falls</h3>
+
+<p>After my battalion had been almost wiped out in the 1918 retirement,
+I was transferred to the 1st Batt. Middlesex Regt. One old
+soldier, known to us as "Darky," who had been out since '14, reported
+at B.H.Q. that he wanted to go up the front line with his old mates
+instead of resting behind the line.</p>
+
+<p>His wish was granted. He was detailed to escort a party of us to the
+front line.</p>
+
+<p>All went well till we arrived at the support line, where we were told to
+be careful of snipers.</p>
+
+<p>We had only gone 20 yards further when the old soldier fell back into
+my arms, shot through the head. He was dying when he opened his eyes
+and said to me, "Straight on, lad. You can find your way now."&mdash;<i>A. H.
+Walker, 59 Wilberforce Road, Finsbury Park, N.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Meant For Him</h3>
+
+<p>At the end of September 1917 my regiment (5th Seaforth Highlanders)
+were troubled by bombing raids by enemy aircraft at the
+unhealthy regularity of one raid per hour. We were under canvas at
+Siege Camp, in the Ypres sector, and being near to a battery of large
+guns we were on visiting terms with some of the gunners, who were for
+the most part London men.</p>
+
+<p>A Lewisham man was writing a letter in our tent one day when we
+again had the tip that the Germans were flying towards us. So we all
+scattered.</p>
+
+<p>After the raid we returned to our tent and were surprised to see our
+artillery friend still writing his letter. We asked him whether he had
+stayed there the whole time and in reply he read us the following passage
+from his letter which he had written during the raid:</p>
+
+<p>"As I write this letter Jerry is bombing the Jocks, but although I am
+in their camp, being a Londoner, I suppose the raid is not meant for me,
+and I feel quite safe."&mdash;<i>W. A. Bull, M.M., 62 Norman Road, llford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Extra Fast Bowler</h3>
+
+<p>During the defence of Antwerp in October 1914 my chum, who
+was wicket-keeper in the Corps cricket team, got hit in the head.</p>
+
+<p>I was with him when he came to, and asked him what happened.</p>
+
+<p>"Extra fast one on the leg side," was his reply.&mdash;<i>J. Russell (late
+R.M.L.I.), 8 Northcote Road, Deal, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I'll Call a Taxi, Sir"</h3>
+
+<p>During an engagement in East Africa an officer was badly wounded.
+Bill, from Bermondsey, rode out to him on a mule. Whilst he was
+trying to get the officer away on his mule the animal bolted. Bill then
+said, "Me mule 'opped it, sir. 'E's a fousand miles from 'ere, so I'll
+giv yer a lift on my Bill and Jack (back)."</p>
+
+<p>The officer was too heavy, so Bill put him gently on the ground saying,
+"Sorry, sir, I'll 'ave ter call a taxi." Bill then ran 500 yards under
+heavy machine-gun fire to where the armoured cars were under cover.
+He brought one out, and thereby saved the officer's life.</p>
+
+<p>After the incident, Bill's attention was drawn to a bullet hole in his
+pith helmet. "Blimey," he said, "what a shot! If he 'adn't a missed
+me, 'e'd a 'it me." Bill was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.&mdash;<i>W. B.
+Higgins, D.C.M. (late Corpl. Mounted Infantry), 46 Stanley Road,
+Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Attack in "Birthday Clothes"</h3>
+
+<p>We came out of the line on the night of June 14-15, 1917, to
+"bivvies" at Mory, after a hot time from both Fritz and weather
+at Bullecourt. When dawn broke we were astonished and delighted to
+see a "bath." Whilst we were in the line our Pioneers had a brain wave,
+dug a hole in the ground, lined it with a tarpaulin sheet, and filled it
+with water.</p>
+
+<p>As our last bath was at Achiet-le-Petit six weeks before, there was a
+tremendous crowd waiting "mit nodings on," because there was "standing
+room only" for about twenty in the bath.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst ablutions were in progress an aeroplane was heard, but no
+notice was taken because it was flying so low&mdash;"one of ours" everybody
+thought. When it came nearer there was a shout, "Strewth, it's a Jerry
+plane."</p>
+
+<p>Baths were "off" for the moment and there was a stampede to the
+"bivvies" for rifles. It was the funniest thing in the world to see fellows
+running about in their "birthday suits" plus only tin hats, taking pot
+shots at the aeroplane.</p>
+
+<p>Even Fritz seemed surprised, because it was some moments before he
+replied with his machine gun.</p>
+
+<p>We watched him fly away back to his own lines and a voice broke the
+silence with, "Blinkin' fools to put on our tin 'ats. Uvverwise 'ole
+Fritz wouldn't a known but what we might be Germans."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I often wonder if any other battalion had the "honour" of "attacking
+the enemy" clad only in tin hats.&mdash;<i>G. M. Rampton (late 12th London
+Regt., "Rangers"), 43 Cromwell Road, Winchester.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Good-bye to the Q.M.</h3>
+
+<p>Scene, Ypres, May 1915. The battalion to which I belonged had
+been heavily shelled for many hours, and among the casualties was
+"Topper" Brown, a Cockney, who was always in trouble for losing items
+of his kit. Taken to the dressing station to have a badly shattered foot
+amputated, he recovered consciousness to find the C.Q.M.S. standing
+by the stretcher on which he lay.</p>
+
+<p>The C.Q.M.S., not knowing the extent of Brown's injury, inquired,
+"What's the trouble, Brown?"</p>
+
+<p>In a weak voice the Cockney replied, "Lost one boot and one sock
+again, Quarter."&mdash;<i>E. E. Daniels (late K.R.R.), 178 Caledonian Road, N.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>From Bow and Harrow</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the line at Neuville St. Vaast in 1916. A raid had just
+been carried out. In the party were two inseparable chums, one
+from Bow and one from Harrow. (Of course they were known as Bow
+and Arrow.)</p>
+
+<p>The bulk of the raiders had returned, but some were yet to come in.
+Some time later three forms were seen crawling towards our line. They
+were promptly helped in.</p>
+
+<p>As their faces were blackened they were hard to recognise, and a
+corporal asked them who they were.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't yer know us?" said the chap from Bow. "We're Bow and
+Arrow." "Blimey!" said another Cockney standing by. "And I
+suppose the other bloke's Robin 'ood, aint 'e."&mdash;<i>G. Holloway (late London
+Regt. and 180 M.G.C.), 179 Lewis Buildings, West Kensington, W.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Piccadilly in the Front Line</h3>
+
+<p>Towards the end of September 1918 I was one of a party of nine
+men and an officer taking part in a silent raid in the Ypres sector,
+a little in front of the well-known spot called Swan and Edgar's Corner.
+The raid was the outcome of an order from Headquarters demanding
+prisoners for information.</p>
+
+<p>Everything had been nicely arranged. We were to approach the German
+line by stealth, surprise an outpost, and get back quickly to our own
+trenches with the prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>Owing perhaps to the wretchedness of the night&mdash;it was pouring with
+rain, and intensely black&mdash;things did not work according to plan. Instead
+of reaching our objective, our party became divided, and the group that
+I was with got hopelessly lost. There were five of us, including "Ginger,"
+a Cockney.</p>
+
+<p>We trod warily for about an hour, when we suddenly came up against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+a barbed-wire entanglement, in the centre of which we could just make
+out the figure of a solitary German. After whispered consultation, we
+decided to take him prisoner, knowing that the German, having been
+stationary, had not lost sense of direction and could guide us back to
+our line. Noiselessly surmounting the barbed wire, we crept up to him
+and in a second Ginger was on him. Pointing his bayonet in Fritz's
+back, he said, "Nah, then, you blighter, show us the way 'ome."</p>
+
+<p>Very coolly and without the slightest trace of fear, the German replied
+in perfect English, "I suppose you mean me to lead you to the British
+trenches."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Ginger, "so yer speak English, do yer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the German, "I was a waiter at a restaurant in Piccadilly
+before the War."</p>
+
+<p>"Piccadilly, eh? You're just the feller we want. Take us as far as
+Swan and Edgar's Corner."&mdash;<i>R. Allen (late Middlesex Regt., 41st Division),
+7 Moreland Street, Finsbury Park, N.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Wag's" Exhortation</h3>
+
+<p>On a bitterly cold night, with a thick fog settling, the Middlesex Regt.
+set out on a raid on a large scale on the enemy's trenches. Fritz
+must have got wind of it, for when they were about half-way across the
+enemy guns opened fire and simply raked No Man's Land. The air was
+alive with shrapnel and nearly two-thirds of the raiders were casualties
+in no time.</p>
+
+<p>Those that could tried to crawl back to our lines, but soon lost all
+direction in the fog. About half a dozen of them crawled into a shell-hole
+and lay there wounded or exhausted from their efforts, and afraid
+to move while the bombardment continued.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile "Wag" Bennett, a Cockney, though badly wounded, had
+dragged himself out of a shell-hole, and was crawling towards what proved
+later to be the enemy lines when he saw the forms of the other fellows in
+the darkness. As he peered down upon them he called out, "Strike
+me pink! Lyin' abaht dahn there as if you was at the 'Otel Cissle,
+while there's a ruddy war agoin' on. Come on up aht of it, else you'll
+git us all a bad name."</p>
+
+<p>In a moment they were heartened, and they crawled out, following
+"Wag" on their hands and knees and eventually regained our lines.
+Poor "Wag" died soon afterwards from his wounds.&mdash;<i>H. Newing, 1 Park
+Cottages, Straightsmouth, Greenwich, S.E.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Making a King of Him</h3>
+
+<p>Our company of the Middlesex Regiment had captured a hill from
+Johnny Turk one evening, and at once prepared for the counter-attack
+on the morrow. My platoon was busy making a trench. On
+the parapet we placed large stones instead of sandbags.</p>
+
+<p>During these operations we were greeted with machine-gun fire from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+Johnny and, our numbers being small, we had to keep firing from different
+positions so as to give the impression that we were stronger than we really
+were.</p>
+
+<p>It was while we were scrambling from one position to another that
+"Smudger" Smith, from Hammersmith, said: "Love us, Sarge, 'ow's
+this for a blinkin' game of draughts?" The words were hardly out of
+his mouth when Johnny dropped a 5·9 about thirty yards away. The
+force of the explosion shook one of the stones from the parapet right on
+to "Smudger's" head, and he was knocked out.</p>
+
+<p>When he came round his first words were: "Blimey, they must 'ave
+'eard me to crown me like that."&mdash;<i>W. R. Mills (late Sergt., 2/10th
+Middlesex Regt.), 15 Canterbury Road, Colchester, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Peace? Not wiv you 'ere!"</h3>
+
+<p>Two Cockney pals who were always trying to get the better of one
+another in a battle of words by greeting each other with such remarks
+as "Ain't you blinkin' well dead yet?" earned for themselves the nick-names
+of Bill and Coo.</p>
+
+<p>One evening they were sent to fetch water, and on the return journey
+the Germans started to shell rather heavily.</p>
+
+<p>Coo ran more quickly than Bill and fell into a shell-hole. He scrambled
+out in time to see his pal blown sky high by what appeared to be a direct
+hit.</p>
+
+<p>Coo was heard to remark: "I always told 'im 'e ought to be reported
+missing, and blimey if 'e ain't."</p>
+
+<p>He then went to see if he could find the body: instead he found Bill
+alive, though badly wounded.</p>
+
+<p>When finally Coo got his pal back to the trench, Bill opened his eyes.
+Seeing Coo bending over him, he said: "Lumme, I thought peace 'ad
+come at last, but it ain't&mdash;not wiv you 'ere."&mdash;<i>William Walker, 30 Park
+Road, Stopsley Road, Luton, Beds.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Expert on Shells</h3>
+
+<p>We were billeted in the vaults of Ypres Post Office. Towards dusk
+of a summer's day in 1916 four of us were lounging at the top of
+the vault stairs, discussing the noise made by different shells. Jerry, a
+Cockney, was saying, "Yes, yer can always tell big 'uns&mdash;they shuffles,"
+and went on to demonstrate with <i>Shsh-shsh-shsh</i>, when someone said
+"Listen!"</p>
+
+<p>There was the real sound, and coming straight for us. We dived or
+fell to the bottom of the stairs. Followed a terrific "crump" right in
+the entrance, which was completely blocked up.</p>
+
+<p>Every candle and lamp was blown out; we were choking with dust
+and showered with bricks and masonry.</p>
+
+<p>There was a short silence, and Jerry's voice from the darkness said,
+"There y'are; wot did I tell yer?"&mdash;<i>H. W. Lake, London.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Camel "on the Waggon"</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of Gaza in April 1917 camels were used for the
+conveyance of wounded. Each camel carried a stretcher on either
+side of its hump. Travelling in this manner was something akin to a
+rough Channel crossing.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i040.jpg" width="600" height="457" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I believe he was drunk before we set eyes on him."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I was wounded in the leg. My companion was severely wounded in
+both legs. Some very uncomplimentary remarks were passed between
+us concerning camels, particularly the one which was carrying us.</p>
+
+<p>When we arrived at a field dressing-station a sergeant of the R.A.M.C.
+came along with liquid refreshments.</p>
+
+<p>"Sergeant," said my chum, "if you give this bloke (indicating the
+camel) anything to drink I'm going to walk, 'cos I believe the blighter was
+drunk before we ever set eyes on him."&mdash;<i>Albert J. Fairall, 43 Melbourne
+Road, Leyton, E.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Parting Presents</h3>
+
+<p>It was on Passchendaele Ridge in 1917. Jerry had been giving us a hot
+time with his heavies. Just before daybreak our telephone line went
+west and we could not get through to our O.P.</p>
+
+<p>I was detailed to go out and repair the line with a young Cockney from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+Hackney. He had only been with us a few days and it was his first time
+up the line.</p>
+
+<p>We had mended one break when shells dropped all round us. When
+I got to my feet, I saw my pal lying several feet away. I escaped with
+a few splinters and shock. I dragged my chum to a shell-hole which was
+full of water and found he was badly hit about the shoulder, chest, and
+leg. I dressed him as best I possibly could, when, <i>bang</i>, a shell seemed
+to drop right on us and something came hurtling into our hole with a
+splash.</p>
+
+<p>It turned out to be a duckboard. I propped my chum against it to
+stop him slipping back into the water. After a few minutes he opened
+his eyes, and though in terrible pain, smiled and said, "Lummy, Jeff,
+old Jerry ain't so bad, after all. He has given me a nice souvenir to
+take to Blighty and now he has sent me a raft to cross the Pond on."
+Then he became unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>It was now daybreak and quiet. I pulled him out of the hole and went
+and repaired the line. We got him away all right, but I never heard
+from him. I only hope he pulled through: he showed pluck.&mdash;<i>Signaller
+H. Jeffrey (late Royal Artillery), 13 Bright Road, Luton, Chatham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bluebottles and Wopses</h3>
+
+<p>We had just gone into the front line. Two of us had not been there
+before.</p>
+
+<p>During a conversation with a Cockney comrade, an old hand, we told
+him of our dislike of bombs. He tried to re-assure us something like this:
+"Nah, don't let them worry you. You treat 'em just like blue-bottles,
+only different. With a blue-bottle you watch where it settles an' 'it it,
+but with bombs, you watch where they're goin' to settle and 'op it. It's
+quite simple."</p>
+
+<p>A short time after a small German bomb came over and knocked out
+our adviser. My friend and I picked him up and tried to help him.
+He was seriously hurt. As we lifted him up my friend said to him,
+"You didn't get your blue-bottle that time, did you?" He smiled
+back as he replied: "'Twasn't a blue-bottle, mate; must 'ave been a
+blinkin' wopse."&mdash;<i>C. Booth, 5 Creighton Road, N.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Cheerful "Card"</h3>
+
+<p>On that June morning in 1917 when Messines Ridge went up, a young
+chap was brought in to our A.D.S. in Woodcote Farm. A piece of
+shell had torn a great gap in each thigh. Whilst the sergeant was
+applying the iodine by means of a spray the M.O. asked, "How are
+things going this morning?" The lad was wearing a red heart as his
+battalion sign, and despite his great pain he answered: "O.K. sir.
+Hearts were trumps this morning."&mdash;<i>R. J. Graff, 3/5th L.F.A., 47th
+Division, 20 Lawrie Park Road, Sydenham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Great Stuff This Shrapnel</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat from Mons it was the cavalry's work to hold up
+the Germans as long as possible, to allow our infantry to get in
+position.</p>
+
+<p>One day we had a good way to run to our horses, being closely pursued
+by the Germans. When we reached them we were all more or less out
+of breath. A little Cockney was so winded that he could hardly reach
+his stirrup, which kept slipping from under his foot.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a shrapnel shell burst directly overhead, and the Cockney,
+without using his stirrup, vaulted clean into the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>As we galloped off he gasped, "Blimey, don't they put new life in
+yer? They're as good as Kruschens."&mdash;<i>E. H. (late R.H.G.), 87 Alpha
+Road, Surbiton, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wot a War!</h3>
+
+<p>Three of us were sitting on the high ground on the Gallipoli Beach
+watching shells dropping from the Turk positions.</p>
+
+<p>A "G.S." wagon was proceeding slowly along below us, the driver
+huddled in his coat, for the air was chill.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he jumped from the wagon and ran in our direction&mdash;he
+had heard the shell before we had.</p>
+
+<p>The next moment the wagon was proceeding skywards in many
+directions, and the horses were departing at top speed in different
+directions.</p>
+
+<p>The driver surveyed the scene for a moment and then in a very matter-of-fact
+voice said: "Blimey! See that? Now I suppose I've got to
+<i>walk</i> back, and me up all night&mdash;wot a war!" And away he trudged!&mdash;<i>C. J. A.,
+N.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Umpire</h3>
+
+<p>After a retreat in May 1915 we saw, lying between our fresh
+position and the German lines, an English soldier whom we took to
+be dead.</p>
+
+<p>Later, however, we advanced again, and discovered that the man was
+not dead, but badly wounded.</p>
+
+<p>On being asked who he was, he replied in a very weak voice, "I fink
+I must be the blinkin' umpire."&mdash;<i>W. King (late Royal Fusiliers), 94
+Manor Grove, Richmond, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Don't Tell 'Aig"</h3>
+
+<p>Little "Ginger" was the life and soul of our platoon until he was
+wounded on the Somme in 1918.</p>
+
+<p>As he was carried off to the dressing-station he waved his hand feebly
+over the side of the stretcher and whispered, "Don't tell 'Aig! He'd
+worry somethin' shockin'."&mdash;<i>G. E. Morris (late Royal Fusiliers), 368
+Ivydale Road, Peckham Rye, S.E.15.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"... In Love and War"</h3>
+
+<p>During a most unpleasant night bombing raid on the transport
+lines at Haillecourt the occupants of a Nissen hut were waiting for
+the next crash when out of the darkness and silence came the Cockney
+voice of a lorry driver saying to his mate, "'Well,' I sez to 'er, I sez,
+'You do as you like, and I can't say no fairer than that, can I?'"&mdash;<i>F. R.
+Jelley, Upland Road, Sutton, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Afraid of Yer Own Shells"</h3>
+
+<p>I was on the Italian front in June 1918, and our battery was being
+strafed by the Austrians with huge armour-piercing shells, which made
+a noise like an express train coming at you, and exploded with a deafening
+roar.</p>
+
+<p>An O.K. had just registered on one of our guns, blowing the wheels
+and masses of rock sky-high. A party of about twenty Austrian prisoners,
+in charge of a single Cockney, were passing our position at the time, and
+the effect of the explosion on the prisoners was startling. They scattered
+in all directions, vainly pursued by the Cockney, who reminded me of a
+sheep-dog trying to get his flock together.</p>
+
+<p>At last he paused. "You windy lot o' blighters," he shouted as he
+spat on the ground in evident disgust, "afraid of yer own bloomin'
+shells!"&mdash;<i>S. Curtis, 20 Palace Road, Upper Norwood, S.E.19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Leader of the Blind</h3>
+
+<p>In July 1918, at a casualty clearing station occupying temporary
+quarters in the old College of St. Vincent at ruined Senlis we dealt
+with 7,000 wounded in eight days. One night when we were more busy
+than usual an ambulance car brought up a load of gas-blinded men.</p>
+
+<p>A little man whose voice proclaimed the city of his birth&mdash;arm broken
+and face blistered with mustard gas, though he alone of the party could
+see&mdash;jumped out, looked around, and then whispered in my ear, "All
+serene, guv'nor, leave 'em to me."</p>
+
+<p>He turned towards the car and shouted inside, "Dalston Junction,
+change here for Hackney, Bow, and Poplar."</p>
+
+<p>Then gently helping each man to alight, he placed them in a line with
+right hand on the shoulder of the man in front, took his position forward
+and led them all in, calling softly as he advanced, "Slow march, left,
+left, I had a good job and I <i>left</i> it."&mdash;<i>Henry T. Lowde (late 63rd C.C.S.,
+R.A.M.C.), 101 Stanhope Gardens, Harringay, N.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Pity the Poor Ducks</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the Passchendaele sector in 1917, and all who were there
+know there were no trenches&mdash;just shell-holes half-filled with water.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry had been strafing us for two days without a stop and of our
+platoon of twenty-three men only seven came out alive. As we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+coming down the duckboard track after being relieved Jerry started
+to put over a barrage. We had to dive for the best cover we could get.</p>
+
+<p>Three of us jumped into a large shell-hole, up to our necks in water.
+As the shells dropped around us we kept ducking our heads under the
+water.</p>
+
+<p>Bert Norton, one of us&mdash;a Cockney&mdash;said: "Strike, we're like the
+little ducks in 'Yde Park&mdash;keep going under."</p>
+
+<p>After another shell had burst and we had just come up to breathe Bert
+chimed in again with: "Blimey, mustn't it be awful to have to get your
+living by ducking?"&mdash;<i>J. A. Wood, 185 Dalston Lane, E.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Waiting Room Only</h3>
+
+<p>It was in No Man's Land, and a party of New Zealand troops were
+making for shelter in a disabled British tank to avoid the downpour of
+shrapnel. They were about to swarm into the tank when the head of a
+London Tommy popped out of an aperture, and he exclaimed, "Blimey.
+Hop it! This is a waiting room, not a blinkin' bee-hive."&mdash;<i>A. E. Wragg,
+1 Downs Road, Beckenham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Yet Blasé</h3>
+
+<p>We arrived at the Cambrai front in 1917&mdash;just a small bunch of
+Cockneys&mdash;and were attached to the Welsh Brigade of Artillery,
+being told to report to B.H.Q. up the sunken road in front of Bapaume.</p>
+
+<p>En route our escort of Welshmen were telling us of the "terrible"
+shelling up the line. It was no leg pulling, for we quickly found out for
+ourselves that it was hot and furious.</p>
+
+<p>Down we all went for cover as best we could, except one Cockney who
+stood as one spellbound watching the bursting of the shells. One of the
+Welshmen yelled out, "Drop down, Cockie!" The Cockney turned
+round, to the wonderment and amusement of the rest, with the retort,
+"Blimey! Get away with yer, you're windy. I've only just come out!"&mdash;<i>Driver
+W. H. Allen (attached 1st Glamorgan R.H.A.), 8 Maiden Crescent,
+Kentish Town, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Paid with a Mills</h3>
+
+<p>During severe fighting in Delville Wood in August 1916 our
+regiment (the East Surreys) was cut off for about three days and was
+reduced to a mere handful of men, but still we kept up our joking and
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p>A young Cockney, who was an adept at rhyming slang, rolled over,
+dead as I thought, for blood was streaming from his neck and head. But
+he sat up again and, wiping his hand across his forehead, exclaimed:
+"Strike me pink! One on the top of my loaf of bread (head), and one
+in the bushel and peck (neck)." Then, slinging over a Mills bomb, he
+shouted: "'Ere, Fritz, my thanks for a Blighty ticket."&mdash;<i>A. Dennis,
+9 Somers Road, Brixton Hill, S.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Guns' Obligato</h3>
+
+<p>The day after the Canadians attacked Vimy Ridge my battalion
+of the Royal Fusiliers advanced from Bully Grenay to a château on
+the outskirts of Lieven under heavy shell fire.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i045.jpg" width="600" height="456" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Tipperary!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>At the back of the château a street led to the main road to the town.
+There, despite the bombardment, we found a Cockney Tommy of the
+Buffs playing "Tipperary" on a piano which had been blown out of a
+house into the road.</p>
+
+<p>We joined in&mdash;until a shell took the top off the château, when we
+scattered!&mdash;<i>L. A. Utton, 184 Coteford Street, Tooting, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Garden of Eden</h3>
+
+<p>We had reached the district in "Mespot" reputed to be the Garden
+of Eden. One evening I was making my way with six men to
+relieve the guard on some ammunition barges lying by the bank of the
+Tigris.</p>
+
+<p>We had approached to within about one hundred yards of these, when
+the Turks started sending over some "long-rangers." The sixth shell
+scored a direct hit on the centre barge, and within a few seconds the whole
+lot went up in what seemed like the greatest explosion of all time. Apart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+from being knocked over with the shock, we escaped injury, with the
+exception of a Cockney in our company.</p>
+
+<p>Most of his clothing, except his boots, had been stripped from his body,
+and his back was bleeding. Slowly he struggled to his hands and knees,
+and surveying his nakedness, said: "Now where's that blinkin' fig tree?"&mdash;<i>F.
+Dennis, 19 Crewdson Road, Brixton, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Santa Claus in a Hurry</h3>
+
+<p>A forward observation officer of the Artillery was on duty keeping
+watch on Watling Crater, Vimy Ridge, towards the end of 1916.</p>
+
+<p>The observation post was the remains of a house, very much battered.
+The officer had to crawl up what had once been a large fireplace, where he
+had the protection of the only piece of wall that remained standing.</p>
+
+<p>He was engrossed on his task when the arrival of a "Minnie" shook
+the foundations of the place, and down he came in a shower of bricks
+and mortar with his shrapnel helmet not at the regimental angle.</p>
+
+<p>A couple of Cockney Tommies had also made a dive for the shelter
+of this pile of bricks and were crouching down, when the officer crawled
+from the fireplace. "Quick, Joe," said one of the Cockneys, "'ang up
+yer socks&mdash;'ere comes ole Santa Claus!"&mdash;<i>A. J. Robinson (late Sergeant,
+R.F.A.), 21 Clowders Road, Catford, S.E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>What Paderewski was Missing</h3>
+
+<p>It was on the night of October 27, 1917, at Passchendaele Ridge.
+Both sides were "letting it go hell for leather," and we were feeling
+none too comfortable crouching in shell-holes and taking what cover
+we could.</p>
+
+<p>The ground fairly shook&mdash;and so did we for that matter&mdash;with the
+heavy explosions and the din was ear-splitting.</p>
+
+<p>Just for something to say I called out to the chap in the next shell-hole&mdash;a
+Brentford lad he was: "What d'you think of it, Alf?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not much," he said, "I was just finkin' if Paderewski could get only
+this on 'is ol' jo-anner."&mdash;<i>M. Hooker, 325A Md. Qrs., Henlow Camp,
+Bedford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Target, but No Offers</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of the Somme, in September 1916, our Lewis gun
+post was in a little loop trench jutting out from the front line at a
+place called, I believe, Lone Tree, just before Combles. Jerry's front
+line was not many yards away, and it was a very warm spot.</p>
+
+<p>Several casualties had occurred during the morning through sniping,
+and one enterprising chap had scored a bull's-eye on the top of our
+periscope.</p>
+
+<p>Things quietened down a bit in the afternoon, and about 4 p.m. our
+captain, who already had the M.C., came along and said to our corporal,
+"I believe the Germans have gone."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A Cockney member of our team, overhearing this, said, "Well, it
+won't take long to find out," and jumping upon the fire-step exposed
+himself from the waist upwards above the parapet.</p>
+
+<p>After a minute's breathless silence he turned to the captain and said,
+with a jerk of his thumb, "They've hopped it, sir."</p>
+
+<p>That night we and our French friends entered Combles.&mdash;<i>M. Chittenden
+(late "C" Coy., 1/16th London Regt., Q.W.R.), 26 King Edward Road,
+Waltham Cross, Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Their own Lord Mayor's Show</h3>
+
+<p>In April 1918 our unit was billeted near Amiens in a small village from
+which the inhabitants had been evacuated two days earlier, owing to
+the German advance.</p>
+
+<p>On the second day of our stay there Jerry was shelling the steeple of
+the village church, and we had taken cover in the cellars under the village
+school. All at once we heard roars of laughter coming from the street,
+and wondering what on earth anyone could find to laugh at, we tumbled
+up to have a look.</p>
+
+<p>The sight that met our eyes was this: Gravely walking down the
+middle of the street were two of the "Hackney Ghurkas," the foremost
+of whom was dressed in a frock coat and top hat, evidently the property
+of the village <i>maire</i>, and leading a decorated mule upon the head of which
+was tied the most gaudy "creation" which ever adorned a woman's head.</p>
+
+<p>The second Cockney was clad in the full garb of a twenty-stone French
+peasant woman, hat and all, and was dragging at the end of a chain a
+stuffed fox, minus its glass case, but still fastened to its baseboard.</p>
+
+<p>They solemnly paraded the whole length of the street and back again,
+and were heard to remark that the village was having at least one Lord
+Mayor's Show before Jerry captured it!</p>
+
+<p>And this happened at the darkest time of the war, when our backs
+were to the wall.&mdash;<i>A. C. P. (late 58th London Division), Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Pill-Box Crown and Anchor</h3>
+
+<p>In the fighting around Westhoek in August 1917 the 56th Division
+were engaged in a series of attacks on the Nonne Boschen Wood, and
+owing to the boggy nature of the ground the position was rather obscure.</p>
+
+<p>A platoon of one of the London battalions was holding a pill-box which
+had been taken from the Germans during the day. In the night a counter-attack
+was made in the immediate vicinity of the pill-box, which left
+some doubt as to whether it had again fallen to the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>A patrol was sent out to investigate. After cautiously approaching
+the position and being challenged in a Cockney tongue, they entered the
+pill-box, and were astonished to see the occupants playing crown and
+anchor.</p>
+
+<p>The isolated and dangerous position was explained to the sergeant in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+charge, but he nonchalantly replied, "Yes, I know all abaht that; but,
+yer see, wot's the use of frightenin' the boys any more? There's been
+enough row rahnd 'ere all night as it is."&mdash;<i>N. Butcher (late 3rd Londons),
+43 Tankerville Drive, Leigh-on-Sea.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"C.O.'s Paid 'is Phone Bill"</h3>
+
+<p>On the Somme, during the big push of 1916, we had a section of
+Signallers attached to our regiment to keep the communications
+during the advance. Of the two attached to our company, one was a
+Cockney. He had kept in touch with the "powers that be" without a
+hitch until his wire was cut by a shell. He followed his wire back and
+made the necessary repair. Three times he made the same journey for
+the same reason. His mate was killed by a shrapnel shell and he himself
+had his left arm shattered: but to him only one thing mattered, and that
+was to "keep in touch." So he stuck to his job.</p>
+
+<p>The wire was broken a fourth time, and as he was about to follow it
+back, a runner came up from the C.O. wanting to know why the signaller
+was not in communication. He started back along his wire and as he
+went he said, "Tell 'im to pay 'is last account, an' maybe the telephone
+will be re-connected."</p>
+
+<p>A permanent line was fixed before he allowed the stretcher-bearers to
+take him away. My chum had taken his post at the end of the wire, and
+as the signaller was being carried away he called out feebly, "You're
+in touch with H.Q. C.O.'s paid 'is bill, an' we'll win the war yet."&mdash;<i>L.
+N. Loder, M.C. (late Indian Army), Streatham.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The "Garden Party Crasher"</h3>
+
+<p>In April 1917 two companies of our battalion were ordered to make a
+big raid opposite the sugar refineries at 14 Bis, near Loos. Two lines
+of enemy trenches had to be taken and the raiding party, when finished,
+were to go back to billets at Mazingarbe while the Durhams took over
+our trenches.</p>
+
+<p>My batman Beedles had instructions to go back to billets with all
+my kit, and wait there for my return. I was in charge of the right half
+of the first wave of the raid, and after a bit of a scrap we got into the
+German front line.</p>
+
+<p>Having completed our job of blowing up concrete emplacements and
+dug-outs, we were waiting for the signal to return to our lines when,
+to my surprise, Beedles came strolling through the German wire. When
+he saw me he called out above the row going on: "I 'opes yer don't
+mind me 'aving come to the garden party wivout an invertition, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>The intrepid fellow had taken all my kit back to billets some four
+miles, made the return journey, and come across No Man's Land to find
+me, and see me safely back; an act which might easily have cost him
+his life.&mdash;<i>L. W. Lees (Lieut.), late 11th Batt. Essex Regt., "Meadow Croft,"
+Stoke Poges, Bucks.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Those Big Wasps</h3>
+
+<p>Salonika, 1918, a perfect summer's day. The 2/17th London
+Regiment are marching along a dusty road up to the Doiran Lake.
+Suddenly, out of the blue, three bombing planes appear. The order is
+given to scatter.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, up comes an anti-aircraft gun, complete with crew on
+lorry. Soon shells are speeding up, and little small puffs of white smoke
+appear as they burst; but the planes are too high for them. A Cockney
+of the regiment puts his hands to his mouth and shouts to the crew:
+"Hi, don't hunch 'em; let 'em settle."&mdash;<i>A. G. Sullings (late 2/17th
+London Regiment), 130 Cann Hall Road, Leytonstone, E.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why he Looked for Help</h3>
+
+<p>On July 1, 1916, the 56th (London) Division attacked at Hebuterne,
+and during the morning I was engaged (as a lineman) in repairing
+our telephone lines between Battalion and Brigade H.Q. I had just been
+temporarily knocked out by a flat piece of shell and had been attended
+by a stretcher-bearer, who then left me and proceeded on his way back
+to a dressing station I had previously passed, whilst I went farther on
+down the trench to get on with my job.</p>
+
+<p>I had not gone many yards when I met a very young private of the
+12th Londons (the Rangers). One of his arms was hanging limp and was,
+I should think, broken in two or three places. He was cut and bleeding
+about the face, and was altogether in a sorry plight.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped and asked me, "Is there a dressing station down there,
+mate?" pointing along the way I had come, and I replied, "Yes, keep
+straight on down the trench. It's a good way down. But," I added,
+"there's a stretcher-bearer only just gone along. Shall I see if I can
+get him for you?"</p>
+
+<p>His reply I shall never forget: "Oh, I don't want him for <i>me</i>. I want
+someone to come back with me to get my mate. <i>He's hurt!</i>"&mdash;<i>Wm. R.
+Smith, 231 Halley Road, Manor Park, E.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Winkle Shell</h3>
+
+<p>Above the entrance to a certain dug-out somewhere in Flanders
+some wit had fixed a board upon which was roughly painted, "The
+Winkle Shell."</p>
+
+<p>The ebb and tide of battle left the dug-out in German hands, but one
+day during an advance the British infantry recaptured the trench in
+which "The Winkle Shell" was situated.</p>
+
+<p>Along the trench came a Cockney with his rifle ready and his bayonet
+fixed. Hearing voices coming from the dug-out he halted, looked
+reflectively at the notice-board, and then cautiously poking his bayonet
+into the dug-out called out, "Nah, then, come on aht of it afore I gits
+me blinkin' 'pin' busy."&mdash;<i>Sidney A. Wood (late C/275 Battery, R.F.A.),
+32 Lucas Avenue, Upton Park, E.13.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Forgot his Dancing Pumps</h3>
+
+<p>We were in a trench in front of Carnoy on the Somme when the
+Germans made a raid on us. It was all over in a few minutes,
+and we were minus eight men&mdash;taken away by the raiders.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards I was standing in a bay feeling rather shaky when
+a face suddenly appeared over the top. I challenged, and was answered
+with these words:</p>
+
+<p>"It's orl right. It's me. They was a-takin' us to a dance over there,
+but I abaht-turned 'arfway acrorst an' crawled back fer me pumps."&mdash;<i>E.
+Smith (late Middlesex Regt.), 2 Barrack Road, Aldershot.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lift Out of Order</h3>
+
+<p>One day in 1916 I was sitting with some pals in a German dug-out
+in High Wood. Like others of its kind, it had a steep, deep shaft.
+Suddenly a shell burst right in the mouth of the shaft above, and the
+next instant "Nobby," a Cockney stretcher-bearer, landed plump on
+his back in our midst. He was livid and bleeding, but his first words
+were: "Strike! I thought the lift were outer order!"&mdash;<i>J. E., Vauxhall,
+S.W.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>Lost: A Fly Whisk</p>
+
+<p>During the very hot summer of 1916 in Egypt it was necessary,
+while eating, to keep on flicking one hand to keep the flies away
+from one's mouth.</p>
+
+<p>One day a heavy shell came over and knocked down my Cockney chum,
+Tubby White. He got up, holding his wrist, and started looking round.</p>
+
+<p>I said: "What have you lost, Tubby?"</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," he said, "can't you see I've lost me blooming fly whisk?"
+It was then I noticed he had lost his hand.&mdash;<i>J. T. Marshall (Middlesex
+Regiment), 17 Evandale Road, Brixton, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Change at Wapping</h3>
+
+<p>When Regina Trench was taken in 1916 it was in a terrible state,
+being half full of thick liquid mud. Some of the fellows, sooner
+than wade through this, were getting up and walking along the top,
+although in view of the Germans.</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney signaller who was with me at the time, after slithering
+along the trench for a time, said: "I've 'ad enough er this," and
+scrambled out of the trench.</p>
+
+<p>He had no sooner got on top when&mdash;<i>zipp</i>&mdash;and down he came with a
+bullet through his thigh.</p>
+
+<p>While bandaging his wound I said: "We're going to have a job to
+get you out of here, but we'll have a good try."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," said the Cockney, "you carry on an' leave me.
+I'll wait for a blinkin' barge and change at Wapping."&mdash;<i>H. Redford
+(late R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"The Canary's Flowed Away!"</h3>
+
+<p>I was in charge of a party carrying material from the dump to the
+Engineers in the front line. One of the party, a man from Camberwell,
+was allotted a bulky roll of barbed wire.</p>
+
+<p>After a desperate struggle through the muddy and narrow support
+trenches, we reached the front line. There was still another 400 yards
+to go, and our Cockney decided to continue the journey along the parapet.</p>
+
+<p>He had not gone far before the German machine guns began to spit
+and he fell in a heap into the bottom of the trench with the coil of barbed
+wire on top of him.</p>
+
+<p>Thinking he was wounded, I went back to him and inquired if he
+was hit.</p>
+
+<p>"'It? 'It be blowed," he said, "but if somebody was to take this
+blinkin' birdcage orf me chest I might be able to get up."</p>
+
+<p>The journey was completed through the trench, our friend being a sorry
+sight of mud and cut fingers and face.</p>
+
+<p>On arriving at our destination he dropped the wire at the feet of the
+waiting corporal with the remark, "'Ere you are, mate; sorry the canary's
+flowed away."&mdash;<i>A. S. G. (47th Division), Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Go it, Applegarf! I'll time yer!"</h3>
+
+<p>Our battalion was making a counter-attack at Albert on March
+29, 1918, against a veritable hail of lead. Wounded in the thigh,
+I tumbled into a huge shell hole, already occupied by two officers of the
+Fusiliers (Fusiliers had been on our left), a lance-corporal of my own
+battalion, and three other men (badly wounded).</p>
+
+<p>Whilst I was being dressed by the lance-corporal another man jumped
+in. He had a bullet in the chest. It didn't need an M.O. to see that
+he was "all in," and he knew it.</p>
+
+<p>He proved to be the most heroic Cockney I have ever seen. He had
+only minutes to live, and he told us not to waste valuable bandages on
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon one of the officers advised me to try to crawl back before
+my leg got stiff, as I would stand a poor chance of a stretcher later with
+so many badly-wounded men about. If I got back safe I was to direct
+stretcher-bearers to the shell hole.</p>
+
+<p>I told the officer that our battalion stretcher-bearers were behind a
+ridge only about 100 yards in the rear, and as my wound had not troubled
+me yet I would make a sprint for it, as the firing was still too heavy to
+be healthy.</p>
+
+<p>On hearing my remarks this heroic Cockney, who must also have been
+a thorough sportsman, grinned up at me and, with death written on his
+face, panted: "Go it, Applegarf, an' I'll time yer." [Applegarth was
+the professional sprint champion of the world.] The Cockney was
+dead when I left the shell hole.&mdash;<i>F. W. Brown (late 7th Suffolks), 247
+Balls Pond Road, Dalston, N.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Other Sort of Rain</h3>
+
+<p>We were out doing a spot of wiring near Ypres, and the Germans
+evidently got to know about it. A few "stars" went up, and then
+the <i>rat-tat-tat</i> of machine guns told us more than we wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>We dived for shell holes. Anybody who knows the place will realise
+we did not have far to dive. I found myself beside a man who, in the
+middle of a somewhat unhealthy period, found time to soliloquise:</p>
+
+<p>"Knocked a bit right aht me tin 'at. Thought I'd copped it that
+time. Look, I can get me little finger through the 'ole. Blimey, 'ope
+it don't rain, I shall git me 'ead all wet."&mdash;<i>H. C. Augustus, 67
+Paragon Road, E.9.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/i052.jpg" width="500" height="457" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ope it don't rain; I'd get me 'ead wet."</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Better Job for Him</h3>
+
+<p>I was at Vimy Ridge in 1916. On the night I am writing about we
+were taking a well-earned few minutes' rest during a temporary lull.
+We were under one of the roughly-built shelters erected against the Ridge,
+and our only light was the quivering glimmer from a couple of candles.
+A shell screeched overhead and "busted" rather near to us&mdash;and out
+went the candles.</p>
+
+<p>"Smith, light up those candles," cried the sergeant-major to his
+batman. "Smithy," who stuttered, was rather shaken and took some
+time to strike a match and hold it steadily to the candles. But no
+sooner were the candles alight than another "whopper" put them
+out again.</p>
+
+<p>"Light up those ruddy candles!" cried the S.M. again, "and don't
+dawdle about it!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Smithy," muttering terrible things to himself, was fumbling for the
+matches when the order came that a bombing party was required to
+clear "Jerry" out of a deep shell-hole.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ere!" said "Smithy" in his rich Cockney voice. "J-just m-my
+m-mark. I'd r-rather f-frow 'eggs' t-than light c-c-candles!"&mdash;<i>W.
+C. Roberts, 5 Crampton Street, S.E.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sentry's Sudden Relief</h3>
+
+<p>I was the next turn on guard at a battery position in Armentières
+one evening in the summer of 1917. A Cockney chum, whom I was
+going to relieve, was patrolling the position when suddenly over came a
+5·9, which blew him about four yards away.</p>
+
+<p>As he scrambled to his feet our sergeant of the guard came along, and
+my chum's first words were, "Sorry, sergeant, for deserting me post."&mdash;<i>T.
+F. Smithers (late R.F.A.), 14 Hilda Road, Brixton, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The World Kept Turnin'</h3>
+
+<p>The Poperinghe-Ypres road. A large shell had just pitched. Among
+the wounded was a Cockney who was noted for his rendering on
+every possible occasion of that well-known song, "Let the Great Big
+World Keep Turning."</p>
+
+<p>He was lying on the roadway severely hurt. Another Cockney went
+up to him and said "'Ello, matey, 'urt? Why ain't yer singin' 'Let the
+Great Big World Keep Turnin',' eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The reply came: "I <i>was</i> a singin' on it, Bill, but I never thought it
+would fly up and 'it me."&mdash;<i>Albert M. Morsley (late 85th Siege Battery Am.
+Col.), 198 Kempton Road, East Ham, E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Blinkin' "Money-box"</h3>
+
+<p>I was limping back with a wounded knee after the taking of Monchy-le-Preux
+on April 11, 1917, when a perky little Cockney of the 13th
+Royal Fusiliers who had a bandaged head caught me up with a
+cheery, "Tike me Chalk Farm (arm), old dear, and we'll soon be 'ome."</p>
+
+<p>I was glad to accept his kindly offer, but our journey, to say the least,
+was a hazardous one, for the German guns, firing with open sights from
+the ridge in front of the Bois du Sart, were putting diagonal barrages
+across the road (down which, incidentally, the Dragoon Guards were
+coming magnificently out of action, with saddles emptying here and
+there as they swept through that deadly zone on that bleak afternoon).</p>
+
+<p>Presently we took refuge in a sandbag shelter on the side of the road,
+and were just congratulating ourselves on the snugness of our retreat,
+when a tank stopped outside. Its arrival brought fresh gun-fire on us, and
+before long a whizz-bang made a direct hit on our shelter.</p>
+
+<p>When we recovered from the shock, we found part of our roof missing,
+and my little pal, poking his bandaged head through the hole, thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+addressed one of the crew of the tank who was just visible through a
+gun slit:</p>
+
+<p>"Oi, why don't yer tike yer money-box 'ome? This ain't a pull-up fer
+carmen!"</p>
+
+<p>The spirit that little Cockney imbued into me that day indirectly saved
+me the loss of a limb, for without him I do not think I would have reached
+the advance dressing station in time.&mdash;<i>D. Stuart (late Sergeant, 10th R.F.,
+37th Division) 103 St. Asaph Road, Brockley, S.E.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Oo, You Naughty Boy!"</h3>
+
+<p>In front of Kut Al-'Amarah, April 1916, the third and last attack
+on the Sannaiyat position, on the day before General Townshend
+capitulated. Days of rain had rendered the ground a quagmire, and
+lack of rations, ammunition, and shelter had disheartened the relief
+force.</p>
+
+<p>The infantry advanced without adequate artillery support, and were
+swept by heavy machine-gun fire from the entrenched Turks. One
+fellow tripped over a strand of loose barbed wire, fell down, and in
+rising ripped the seat nearly off his shorts. Cursing, he rejoined the
+slowly moving line of advancing men.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly one sensed one of those fateful moments when men in the
+mass are near to breaking point. Stealthy looks to right and left were
+given, and fear was in the men's hearts. The relentless tat-tat-tat
+of machine guns, the "singing" of the driven bullets, and the dropping
+of men seemed as if it never would end.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney voice broke the fear-spell and restored manhood to men.
+"Oo, 'Erbert, you naughty boy!" it said. "Look at what you've done
+to yer nice trahsers! 'Quarter' won't 'arf be cross. He said we wasn't
+to play rough games and tear our trahsers."&mdash;<i>L. W. Whiting (late 7th
+Meerut Division), 21 Dale Park Avenue, Carshalton, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cool as a Cucumber</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1917 at Ypres I was in charge of part of the advance
+party taking over some trenches from another London battalion.
+After this task had been completed I was told of a funny incident of the
+previous night.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that the battalion we were due to relieve had been surprised
+by a small party of the enemy seeking "information." During
+the mêlée in the trench a German "under-officer" had calmly walked
+over and picked up a Lewis gun which had been placed on a tripod on
+top of the trench some little distance from its usual emplacement. (This
+was done frequently when firing at night was necessary so as to avoid
+betraying the regular gun position.)</p>
+
+<p>A boyish-looking sentry of the battalion on the left jumped out of the
+trench and went after the Jerry who was on his way "home" with the
+gun in his arms. Placing his bayonet in dangerous proximity to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+"under-officer's" back, the young Cockney exclaimed, "Hi! Where
+the 'ell are yer goin' wiv that gun? Just you put the 'coocumber'
+back on the 'barrer' and shove yer blinkin' 'ands up!"</p>
+
+<p>The "under-officer" lost his prize and his liberty, and I understand
+the young sentry received the M.M.&mdash;<i>R. McMuldroch (late 15th London
+Regt., Civil Service Rifles), 13 Meadway, Bush Hill Park, Enfield.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Sergeant's Tears</h3>
+
+<p>One afternoon on the Somme our battery received a severe strafe
+from 5·9's and tear-gas shells. There was no particular "stunt"
+on, so we took cover in a trench behind the guns.</p>
+
+<p>When the strafe had finished, we found our gun resting on one wheel,
+with sights and shield smashed by a direct hit. There was tear gas
+hanging about, too, and we all felt anything but cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>Myself and detachment were solemnly standing around looking at the
+smashed gun, and as I was wiping tears from my eyes, Smithy, our
+bright Walworth lad, said: "Don't cry, Sarg'nt, they're bahnd ter give
+us anuvver."&mdash;<i>E. Rutson (late Sergeant, R.F.A., 47th London Division),
+43a Wardo Avenue, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"But yer carn't 'elp Laughin'"</h3>
+
+<p>There were a bunch of us Cockneys in our platoon, and we had
+just taken over some supports. It being a quiet sector, we were
+mooning and scrounging around, some on the parapet, some in the
+trenches, and some at the rear.</p>
+
+<p>All at once a shower of whizz-bangs and gas shells came over; our
+platoon "sub." started yelling "Gas." We dived for the dug-outs.</p>
+
+<p>Eight of us tried to scramble through a narrow opening at once, and
+we landed in a wriggling mass on the floor. Some were kneeling and
+some were sitting, all with serious faces, until one fellow said: "Phew,
+it's 'ell of a war, but yer carn't 'elp laughin', can yer?"&mdash;<i>B. J. Berry
+(late 9th Norfolk Regt.), 11 Rosemont Avenue, N. Finchley, N.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Only an Orphan"</h3>
+
+<p>He came to the battalion about three weeks before going overseas,
+and fell straight into trouble. But his Cockney wit got him out of
+trouble as well as into it.</p>
+
+<p>He never received a parcel or letter, but still was always the life of our
+company. He never seemed to have a care.</p>
+
+<p>We had been in France about a fortnight when we were ordered to the
+front line and over the top. He was one of the first over, shouting
+"Where's the blighters." They brought him in riddled with bullets.</p>
+
+<p>When I asked if I could do anything for him, he said: "Are there
+many hurt?" "Not many," I replied. "Thank Heaven for that," he
+replied. "Nobody 'll worry over me. I'm only a blinkin' orphan."&mdash;<i>W.
+Blundell (late N.C.O., 2nd East Surreys), Cranworth Gardens, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Joking at the Last</h3>
+
+<p>It was after the attack by the 2nd Londons on the village of Aubigny
+au Bac. I was hit by shell splinters, and whilst I was looking for
+someone to dress my wounds I came across one of the lads lying by the
+roadside mortally wounded.</p>
+
+<p>As I bent over him to give him a drink he noticed my blood-streaked
+face and gasped: "Crikey! Your barber was blinkin' clumsy this
+morning." So passed a gallant 2nd London man.&mdash;<i>E. C. Easts (M.M.),
+Eliot Place, Blackheath, S.E.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Everybody's War</h3>
+
+<p>During the general advance on the Somme in August 1918 our
+platoon became isolated from the rest of the company.</p>
+
+<p>We had been under heavy shell-fire for about three hours, and when at
+last things seemed to have quietened down, a German plane came over.
+We immediately jumped for cover and were concealed from view.</p>
+
+<p>The plane had only circled round a couple of times when a Cockney
+private, unable to resist the temptation any longer, jumped up and had a
+pot at it.</p>
+
+<p>He had fired three rounds when the N.C.O. pulled him down and called
+him a fool for giving away our position.</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney turned round and replied, "Blimey, ain't I in this
+blinkin' war as well as 'im?"&mdash;<i>E. Purcell (late 9th Royal Fusiliers),
+4 Lyndhurst Grove, Peckham, S.E.15.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Orders is Orders</h3>
+
+<p>When I was with the 6th Dorsets at Hooge, a party of us under a
+Cockney lance-jack were sent down the Menin Road to draw rations.
+It seemed as though the Germans knew we were waiting at the corner,
+for they were dropping shells all around us.</p>
+
+<p>After a while a voice in the darkness cried: "Don't stay there, you
+chaps; that's Hell Fire Corner!"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't 'elp it, guv'nor," replied our lance-jack. "'Ell Fire Corner
+or 'Eaven's Delight, we gotta stop 'ere till our rations comes up."&mdash;<i>H.
+W. Butler (late 6th Dorsets), 2 Flint Cottages, Stone, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Leaving the Picture</h3>
+
+<p>As we were going "over" at Passchendaele a big one dropped just
+behind our company runner and myself. Our runner gave a shout
+and stumbling on a little way, with his hand on his side, said: "Every
+picture tells a story"&mdash;and went down.</p>
+
+<p>I just stopped to look at him, and I am sorry to say his war had
+finished. He came from Bow.&mdash;<i>G. Hayward (late Rifle Brigade), Montague
+Street, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Ginger's Gun Stopped</h3>
+
+<p>I was in a Lewis gun section, and our sergeant got on our nerves
+while we were learning the gun by always drumming in our ears about
+the different stoppages of the gun when in action. My mate, Ginger
+Bryant, who lived at Stepney, could never remember the stops, and our
+sergeant was always rousing poor old Ginger.</p>
+
+<p>Well, we found ourselves one day in the front line and Jerry had
+started an attack. Ginger was No. 1 on the gun and I was lying beside
+him as No. 2. We were giving Jerry beans with our gun when a bomb
+hit it direct and blew Ginger and myself yards away.</p>
+
+<p>Ginger had his hand blown off, but crawled back to the gun, which was
+smashed to pieces. He gave one look at it and shouted to me: "Nah go
+and ask that blinkin' sergeant what number stoppage he calls this one!"
+Next thing he fainted.&mdash;<i>Edward Newson (late 1st West Surrey), 61 Moneyer
+Street, Hoxton, N.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Careless Fellow</h3>
+
+<p>An officer with our lot was a regular dare-devil. He always boasted
+that the German bullet had not yet been made which could find
+him.</p>
+
+<p>One day, regardless of his own safety, he was on the parapet, and
+though many shots came over he seemed to bear a charmed life.</p>
+
+<p>One of the men happened to put his head just out of the trench when
+a bullet immediately struck his "tin hat" sending him backwards into
+the trench.</p>
+
+<p>The officer, from the parapet, looked down and said, "You <i>are</i> a fool,
+I told you not to show yourself."&mdash;<i>A. Smith (Cameronians), 40 Whitechapel
+Road, E.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Standing Up to the Turk</h3>
+
+<p>In the second attempt to capture Gaza we were making our advance in
+face of heavy machine-gun fire. In covering the ground we crouched as
+much as possible, the Turks directed their fire accordingly, and casualties
+were numerous, so our Cockney humorist shouted: "Stand up, boys.
+It's best to be hit in yer props (legs) than in yer blinkin' office (head)."&mdash;<i>W.
+Reed (late 7th Battn., Essex Regiment), 3 Shenfield Road, Woodford
+Green, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lodging with the Bombs</h3>
+
+<p>I was driving a lorry along the road from Dickebusch to Ypres when
+the Germans started shelling with shrapnel and high explosive.</p>
+
+<p>By the side of the road was a cottage, partly ruined, with the window-space
+boarded up: and, with some idea of seeking protection from the
+flying fragments, I leaned up against one of the walls.</p>
+
+<p>I hadn't been there long when a face appeared at a gap in the boards,
+and a voice said: "Do yer fink y're safe there, mate, cos we're chock
+full o' bombs in 'ere."&mdash;<i>Edward Tracey, c/o Cowley Cottage, Cowley,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In Fine Feather</h3>
+
+<p>While on the Somme in 1916 my battery was sent to rest in a village
+behind the line. The billet allotted to us had been an hotel, and all
+the furniture, including bedsteads and feather mattresses, had been
+stored in the room which did duty as an orderly room.</p>
+
+<p>Returning one day from exercise, we saw a flight of enemy 'planes
+coming over, and as we approached the billet a bomb was dropped
+straight through the roof of our building, the sole occupant of which
+at the time was a Cockney signaller on duty, in touch with Brigade
+Headquarters.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 432px;">
+<img src="images/i058.jpg" width="432" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"They must 'ave 'it a blinkin' sparrer."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>We hurried forward, expecting to find that our signaller had
+been killed. The orderly room was a scene of indescribable chaos.
+Papers were everywhere. Files and returns were mixed up with "iron
+rations," while in a corner of the room was a pile of feathers about
+4 feet deep&mdash;all that remained of the feather mattresses. Of our
+signaller there was no sign.</p>
+
+<p>As we looked around, however, his head appeared from beneath the
+feather pile. His face was streaming with blood, and he looked more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+dead than alive, but as he surveyed his temporary resting-place, a grin
+spread over his features, and he picked up a handful of feathers.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey!" he observed, "they must 'ave 'it a blinkin' sparrer."&mdash;<i>"Gunner,"
+Oxford Street, W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>All the Fun of the Fair</h3>
+
+<p>At Neuve Eglise, March 1918, we were suddenly attacked by Jerry,
+but drove him back. Every now and again we spotted Germans
+dodging across a gap in a hedge. At once a competition started as to
+who could catch a German with a bullet as he ran across the gap.</p>
+
+<p>"Reminds me of shooting at the bottles and fings at the fair," said my
+pal, another Cockney Highlander.</p>
+
+<p>A second later a piece of shrapnel caught him in the hand. "Blimey,
+I always said broken glass was dangerous," he remarked as he gazed
+sadly at the wound.&mdash;<i>F. Adams (late H.L.I.), 64 Homestead Road,
+Becontree, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Teacup in a Storm</h3>
+
+<p>We were in support trenches near Havrincourt Wood in September
+1917. At mid-day it was exceptionally quiet there as a rule.</p>
+
+<p>Titch, our little Cockney cook, proceeded one day to make us some tea
+by the aid of four candles in a funk-hole. To aid this fire he added
+the usual bit of oily "waste," and thereby caused a thin trail of smoke to
+rise. The water was just on the boil when Jerry spotted our smoke and
+let fly in its direction everything he had handy.</p>
+
+<p>Our trench was battered flat.... We threw ourselves into a couple of
+old communication trenches. Looking around presently for our cook
+we found him sitting beneath a waterproof sheet calmly enjoying his
+sergeant-major's tea. "Ain't none of you blokes firsty?" was his
+greeting.&mdash;<i>R. J. Richards (late 61st Trench Mortar Battery, 20th London
+Division), 15 London Street, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jack's Unwelcome Present</h3>
+
+<p>Our company were holding the line, or what <i>was</i> a line of trenches
+a short time before, when Jerry opened out with all kinds of loudspeakers
+and musical instruments that go to make war real.</p>
+
+<p>We were knocked about and nearly blinded with smoke and flying
+sandbags. The best we could do was to grope our way about with arms
+outstretched to feel just where we were.</p>
+
+<p>Eventually someone clutched me, saying, "Is that you, Charlie&mdash;are
+you all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Jack," I answer, "are you all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know fer sure," he says as he dives his hand through
+his tunic to his chest and holds on to me with the other. I had a soft
+place in my heart for Jack, for nobody ever sent him a parcel, so what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+was mine was Jack's. But not the piece of shrapnel that came out
+when he withdrew his hand from inside his tunic!</p>
+
+<p>"The only thing that ever I had sent me&mdash;and that from Jerry!"
+says Jack. "We was always taught to love our enemies!"</p>
+
+<p>They sure loved us, for shortly after I received my little gift of love,
+which put me to by-by for several months. But that Cockney lad from
+East London never grumbled at his hard lot. He looked at me, his
+corporal, and no wonder he clung round my neck, for he has told me since
+the war that he was only sixteen then. A brave lad!&mdash;<i>D. C. Maskell
+(late 20th Battn. Middlesex Regt.), 25 Lindley Road, Leyton, E.10</i>.</p>
+
+
+<h3>Goalie Lets One Through</h3>
+
+<p>In September 1916 we landed in a portion of German trench and I
+was given orders to hang on. Shells were bursting all around us, so
+we decided to have a smoke.</p>
+
+<p>My two Cockney pals&mdash;Nobby and Harry, who were a goalie and centre-forward
+respectively&mdash;were noted for their zeal in keeping us alive.</p>
+
+<p>Nobby was eager to see what was going on over the top, so he had a
+peep&mdash;and for his pains got shot through the ear. He fell back in a heap
+and exclaimed, "Well saved, goalie! Couldn't been better if I'd tried."</p>
+
+<p>"Garn," said Harry, bending over him, "it's blinkin' well gorn right
+frew, mate."&mdash;<i>Patrick Beckwith, 5 Duke Road, Chiswick, W.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Good Samaritan Foiled</h3>
+
+<p>I was rather badly wounded near Bullecourt, on the Arras front, and
+was lying on a stretcher outside the dressing station.</p>
+
+<p>Nearby stood a burly Cockney with one arm heavily bandaged. In
+the other hand he held his ration of hot coffee.</p>
+
+<p>Noticing my distress, he offered me his drink, saying, "'Ere y'are,
+mate, 'ave a swig at this." One of the stretcher-bearers cried: "Take
+that away! He mustn't have it!"</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney slunk off.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, ugly," he said. "Take the food aht of a poor bloke's
+mouf, would yer?"</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards I learned the stretcher-bearer, by his action, had saved
+my life. Still, I shan't forget my Cockney friend's generosity.&mdash;<i>A. P. S.
+(late 5th London Regiment), Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Proof of Marksmanship</h3>
+
+<p>Poperinghe: a pitch-black night. We were resting when a party
+of the West Indian Labour Company came marching past. Jerry
+sent one over. Luckily, only one of the party was hit.</p>
+
+<p>A voice from the darkness: "Alf! keep low, mate. Jerry 'as got his
+eye in&mdash;'e's 'it a nigger in the dark!"&mdash;<i>C. Jakeman (late 4/4th City of
+London Royal Fusiliers), 5 Hembridge Place, St. John's Wood, N.W.8.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Well, He Ain't Done In, See!"</h3>
+
+<p>During the great German offensive in March 1918 our company
+was trying to hold the enemy at Albert. My platoon was in an old
+trench in front of Albert station, and was in rather a tight corner, the
+casualties being pretty heavy. A runner managed to get through to
+us with a message. He asked our sergeant to send a man to another
+platoon with the message.</p>
+
+<p>One of my pals, named Gordon, shouted, "Give it to me; I'll go."</p>
+
+<p>He crept out of the trench and up a steep incline and over the other
+side, and was apparently being peppered by machine-gun fire all the way.
+We had little hope of him ever getting there. About a couple of hours
+later another Cockney cried: "Blimey! He's coming back!"</p>
+
+<p>We could see him now, crawling towards us. He got within a dozen
+yards of our trench, and then a Jerry "coal-box" arrived. It knocked
+us into the mud at the bottom of our trench and seemed to blow Gordon,
+together with a ton or so of earth, twenty feet in the air, and he came
+down in the trench.</p>
+
+<p>"That's done the poor blighter in," said the other Cockney as we
+rushed to him. To our surprise Gordon spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he ain't done in&mdash;see!"</p>
+
+<p>He had got the message to the other platoon, and was little the worse
+for his experience of being blown skyward. I think that brave fellow's
+deed was one of many that had to go unrewarded.&mdash;<i>H. Nachbaur (late
+7th Suffolks), 4 Burnham Road, St. Albans, Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Baby's Fell Aht er Bed!"</h3>
+
+<p>The day before our division (38th Welch) captured Mametz Wood
+on the Somme, in July 1916, our platoon occupied a recently captured
+German trench. We were examining in a very deep dug-out some of
+Jerry's black bread when a heavy shell landed almost at the entrance
+with a tremendous crash. Earth, filled sandbags, etc., came thundering
+down the steps, and my thoughts were of being buried alive about
+forty feet underground. But amid all the din, Sam (from Walworth)
+amused us with his cry: "Muvver! Baby's fell aht er bed!"&mdash;<i>P. Carter
+(late 1st London Welch), 6 Amhurst Terrace, Hackney, E.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Stamp Edging Wanted</h3>
+
+<p>During severe fighting in Cambrai in 1917 we were taking up position
+in the front line when suddenly over came a "present" from
+Jerry, scattering our men in all directions and causing a few casualties.</p>
+
+<p>Among the unfortunate ones was a Cockney whose right hand was
+completely blown off.</p>
+
+<p>In a sitting position he calmly turned to the private next to him and
+exclaimed "Blimey, they've blown me blinkin' German band (hand) off.
+Got a bit of stamp edging, mate?"&mdash;<i>T. Evans, 24 Russell Road, Wood
+End Green, Northolt, Greenford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Oo's 'It&mdash;You or Me?"</h3>
+
+<p>It was our fifth day in the front line in a sector of the Arras front. In
+the afternoon, after a terrible barrage, Jerry came over the top on our
+left, leaving our immediate front severely alone.</p>
+
+<p>Our platoon Lewis gun was manned at that time by "Cooty," a
+Cockney, he being "Number One" on the gun. We were blazing away
+at the advancing tide when a shell exploded close to the gun.</p>
+
+<p>"Cooty" was seen to go rigid for a moment, and then he quickly
+rolled to one side to make way for "Number Two" to take his place.
+He took "Number Two's" position beside the gun.</p>
+
+<p>The new "Number One" saw that "Cooty" had lost three fingers,
+and told him to retire. "Cooty" would not have that, but calmly
+began to refill an empty magazine. "Number One" again requested
+him to leave, and a sharp tiff occurred between them.</p>
+
+<p>"Cooty" was heard to say, "Look 'ere, oo's <i>'it</i>&mdash;you or me?" "You
+are," said "Number One."</p>
+
+<p>"Then mind your own blinkin' business," said "Cooty," "and get
+on with shelling these peas."</p>
+
+<p>Poor "Cooty," who had lost his left foot as well, passed out shortly
+after, was a Guardsman at one time.&mdash;<i>D. S. T., Kilburn, N.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Stocking Bomb</h3>
+
+<p>We were a desert mobile column, half-way across the Sinai Peninsula
+from Kantara to Gaza. Turkish aeroplanes paid us a daily visit
+and pelted us with home-made "stocking-bombs" (old socks filled with
+nails, old iron, and explosives).</p>
+
+<p>On this particular day we were being bombed and a direct hit on one
+gunner's shoulder knocked him to the ground, but failed to explode.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting up in pain he blinked at the stocking-bomb and then at the
+plane and shouted: "Nah chuck us yer blinkin' boots dahn!" He
+then fainted and we helped him, but could not resist a broad smile.&mdash;<i>A.
+Crose, 77 Caistor Park Road, West Ham, E.15.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not an Acrobat</h3>
+
+<p>In a communication trench on the Somme, near Guillemont, in August
+1916, we were halted for a "blow" on our way up when Jerry opened
+with shrapnel.</p>
+
+<p>Private Reynolds, from Marylebone, had his right hand cut off at the
+wrist. We bound his arm as best we could, and whilst doing so one man
+said to him, "A sure Blighty one, mate&mdash;and don't forget when you get
+home, drop us a line to let's know how you are getting on in hospital."</p>
+
+<p>"Yus! I'll write all right," said Reynolds, and then, suddenly, "'Ere,
+wot d'yer fink I am, a blinkin' acrobat? 'Ow can I write wivout a right
+arm ter write wiv?"&mdash;<i>A. Sharman (late 12th Royal Fusiliers), 177 Grenville
+Road, N.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Story Without an Ending</h3>
+
+<p>Our gun position lay just behind the Ancre, and Fritz generally
+strafed us for an hour or two each day, starting about the same time.
+When the first shell came over we used to take cover in a disused trench.</p>
+
+<p>One day, when the strafe began, I grabbed two story magazines just
+before we went to the trench, and, arrived there, handed one to my
+Cockney pal.</p>
+
+<p>We had both been reading for some time when a shell burst uncomfortably
+near, and a splinter hit my pal's book and shot it right out of his
+hand. At which he exclaimed: "Fritz,
+yer blighter, I'll never know nah whether
+he was goin' to marry the girl or cut 'er
+bloomin' froat."&mdash;<i>G. W. Wicheloe (late
+138th Heavy Battery, R.G.A.), 162 Stevens
+Road, Chadwell Heath, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cause and Effect</h3>
+
+<p>A 5·9 had burst on the parados of our
+trench, and caused&mdash;as 5·9's usually
+did&mdash;a bit of a mess.</p>
+
+<p>A brand-new officer came around the
+trench, saw the damage, and asked:
+"Whatever caused this mess?"</p>
+
+<p>Without the slightest suspicion of a
+smile a Cockney private answered: "An
+explosive bullet, sir!"&mdash;<i>C. T. Coates, 46
+Hillingdon Street, London, S.E.17.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<img src="images/i063.jpg" width="248" height="500" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... an explosive bullet, sir!"</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>The Cockney and the Cop</h3>
+
+<p>During the final push near Cambrai
+Jerry had just been driven from a
+very elaborate observation post&mdash;a steel-constructed
+tower. Of course, we soon
+occupied it to enable us to see Jerry's
+hasty retreat.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner had we got settled when, crash, Jerry had a battery of pipsqueaks
+trained on us, firing gas shells. A direct hit brought the building
+down.</p>
+
+<p>By the time we had sorted ourselves out our eyes began to grow dim,
+and soon we were temporarily blind. So we took each other's hands, an
+ex-policeman leading.</p>
+
+<p>After a few moments a Cockney friend chimed out, "Say, Cop, do
+you think you can find the lock-up now, or had you better blow your
+whistle?"&mdash;<i>H. Rainford (late R.F.A.), 219 The Grove, Hammersmith,
+W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Drorin' Room</h3>
+
+<p>It was on "W" Beach, Gallipoli, some months after the historic
+landing. It was fairly safe to picnic here, but for the attentions of
+"Beachy Bill," a big Turkish gun. I was with six other R.F.A. details
+in a dug-out which was labelled, or rather libelled, "The Ritz."</p>
+
+<p>"Smiler" Smith gave it that name, and always referred to this
+verminous hovel in terms of respect. Chalked notices such as "Wait
+for the Lift," "Card Room," "Buffet," were his work.</p>
+
+<p>A dull thud in the distance&mdash;the familiar scream&mdash;and <i>plomp</i> came
+one from "Bill," a few yards from the Ritz. Only "Smiler" was really
+hurt. He received a piece of shell on his arm. As they carried him
+away, he called faintly for his tobacco tin.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you leave it, 'Smiler'?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the drorin' room on the grand pianner," said "Smiler" faintly.&mdash;<i>Gunner
+W. (late 29th Division, R.F.A.).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Getting His Goat</h3>
+
+<p>Sandy was one of those whom nature seemed to have intended for a
+girl. Sandy by colour, pale and small of features, and without the
+sparkling wit of his Cockney comrades, he was the butt of many a joke.</p>
+
+<p>One dark and dirty night we trailed out of the line at Vermelles and
+were billeted in a barn. The farmhouse still sheltered its owner and the
+remainder of his live-stock, including a goat in a small shed.</p>
+
+<p>"Happy" Day, having discovered the goat, called out, "Hi, Sandy!
+There's some Maconochie rations in that 'ere shed. Fetch 'em in, mate."</p>
+
+<p>Off went Sandy, to return hastily with a face whiter than usual, and
+saying in his high treble: "'Appy, I can't fetch them. There's two awful
+eyes in that shed."</p>
+
+<p>Subsequently Jerry practically obliterated the farm, and when we
+returned to the line "Happy" Day appropriated the goat as a mascot.</p>
+
+<p>We had only been in the line a few hours when we had the worst
+bombardment I remember. Sandy and the goat seemed kindred spirits in
+their misery and terror.</p>
+
+<p>"Happy" had joined the great majority. The goat, having wearied
+of trench life and army service, had gone over the top on his own account.
+The next thing we knew was that Sandy was "over" after him, shells
+dropping around them. Then the goat and "Sandy Greatheart" disappeared
+behind a cloud of black and yellow smoke.&mdash;<i>S. G. Bushell (late
+Royal Berks), 21 Moore Buildings, Gilbert Street, W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jennie the Flier</h3>
+
+<p>It was my job for about two months, somewhere in the summer of
+1917, to take Jennie the mule up to the trenches twice a day with
+rations, or shells, for the 35th Trench Mortar Battery, to which I was
+attached. We had to cover about 5 kilos. from the Q.M. stores at Rouville,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+Arras, to the line. When Jerry put a few over our way it was a job to
+get Jennie forward.</p>
+
+<p>One night we arrived with a full load, and the officer warned me to get
+unloaded quick as there was to be a big bombardment. No sooner had
+I finished than over came the first shell&mdash;and away went Jennie, bowling
+over two or three gunners.</p>
+
+<p>Someone caught her and I mounted for the return journey. Then
+the bombardment began in earnest.</p>
+
+<p>You ought to have seen her go! Talk about a racehorse! I kept
+saying, "Gee up, Jennie, old girl, don't get the wind up, we shall soon
+get back to Rouville!"</p>
+
+<p>I looked round and could see the flashes of the guns. That was the
+way to make Jennie go. She never thought of stopping till we got home.&mdash;<i>W.
+Holmes (9th Essex Regiment), 72 Fleet Road, Hampstead, N.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Mission Fulfilled</h3>
+
+<p>On August 28, 1916, we were told to take over a series of food dumps
+which had been formed in the front and support lines at Hamel,
+on the Ancre, before a general attack came off.</p>
+
+<p>On the following night Corporal W&mdash;&mdash;, a true and gallant Cockney who
+was in charge of a party going back to fetch rations, came to my dug-out
+to know if there were anything special I wished him to bring.</p>
+
+<p>I asked him to bring me a tin of cigarettes. On the return journey,
+as the party was crossing a road which cut through one of the communicating
+trenches, a shell struck the road, killing two privates and
+fatally wounding Corporal W&mdash;&mdash;.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word the corporal put his hand into his pocket and, producing
+a tin, held it out to an uninjured member of the party.</p>
+
+<p>I got my smokes.&mdash;<i>L. J. Morgan (late Capt., The Royal Sussex Regiment),
+1 Nevern Square, S.W.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Saved the Tea</h3>
+
+<p>On the night before our big attack on July 1, 1916, on the Somme,
+eight of us were in a dug-out getting a little rest. Jerry must have
+found some extra shells for he was strafing pretty heavily.</p>
+
+<p>Two Cockney pals from Stratford were busy down on their hands and
+knees with some lighted grease and pieces of dry sandbag, trying to boil
+a mess-tin of water to make some tea.</p>
+
+<p>The water was nearly on the boil when Jerry dropped a "big 'un"
+right into the side of our dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>The smoke and dust had hardly cleared, when one of the Stratfordites
+exclaimed, looking down at the overturned mess-tin, "Blimey, that's
+caused it." Almost immediately his pal (lying on his back, his face
+covered with blood and dirt, and his right hand clasped tightly) answered:
+"'S'all right. I ain't put the tea and sugar in."&mdash;<i>J. Russ (Cpl., late 6th
+Battn. Royal Berkshire Regt.), 309 Ilford Lane, Ilford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Old Dutch Unlucky</h3>
+
+<p>After a week in Ypres Salient in February 1915 we were back at
+a place called Vlamertinghe "resting," i.e. providing the usual
+working parties at night. Going out with one of these parties, well
+loaded with barbed wire, poles, etc., our rifles slung on our shoulders,
+things in general were fairly quiet. A stray bullet struck the piling
+swivel of the rifle of "Darkie," the man in front of me. "Missed my
+head by the skin of its teeth," said "Darkie." "Good job the old Dutch
+wasn't here. She reckons she's been unlucky ever since she set eyes on
+me&mdash;and there's another pension for life gone beggin'."&mdash;<i>B. Wiseman
+(late Oxford and Bucks L.I.), 12 Ursula Street, Battersea, S.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Long Streak of Misery</h3>
+
+<p>Dusk was falling on the second day of the battle of Loos. I was
+pottering about looking for the other end of our line at the entrance
+to Orchard Street trench. A voice hailed me: "'Ere, mate! Is this
+the way aht?"</p>
+
+<p>It came from a little Cockney, a so-called "walking" wounded case.
+Immediately behind him there hobbled painfully six feet of complete
+abjection.</p>
+
+<p>I gave them directions, and told them that in two or three hundred
+yards they should be out of danger. Then Jerry dropped a "crump."
+It tortured the sorely-tried nerves of the long fellow, and when the bricks
+and dust had settled, he declared, with sudden conviction: "We're going
+to lose this blinkin' war, we are!"</p>
+
+<p>His companion gave him a look of contempt.</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't 'arf a long streak of misery," he said. "If I fort that
+I'd go back nah an' 'ave another shot at 'em&mdash;even if you 'ad to carry
+me back."&mdash;<i>"Lines," (33 (S) Bty), 24 Clifton Road, Maida Vale, W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Smudger's" Tattoo</h3>
+
+<p>"Smudger" Smith, from Hoxton, had just returned off leave,
+and joined us at Frankton Camp, near Ypres. Not long after
+his arrival "Jerry" started strafing us with his long-range guns, but
+"Smudger" was more concerned with the tattooing which he had had
+done on his arms on leave.</p>
+
+<p>I said they were very disfiguring, and advised him to have them
+removed, giving him an address to go to when he was again in London,
+and telling him the probable price.</p>
+
+<p>Not very long after our conversation "Jerry" landed a shell about
+forty yards away from us and made us part company for a while.
+When I pulled myself together and looked for "Smudger" he was
+half-buried with earth and looked in much pain.</p>
+
+<p>I went over to him and began to dig him out. Whilst I was thus
+engaged he said to me in a weak voice, but with a smile on his face:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How much did yer say it would corst to take them tattoos orf?"
+And when I told him he replied: "I fink I can get 'em done at harf-price
+nah."</p>
+
+<p>When I dug him out I found he had lost one arm.&mdash;<i>E. R. Wilson (late
+East Lancs Regt.), 22 Brindley Street, Shardeloes Road, New Cross, S.E.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Importance of a "Miss"</h3>
+
+<p>Soon after the capture of Hill 70 an artillery observation post was
+established near the new front line. A telephone line was laid to it,
+but owing to persistent shelling the wire soon became a mere succession
+of knots and joints. Communication was established at rare intervals,
+and repairing the line was a full-time job. A Cockney signaller and I went
+out at daybreak one morning to add more joints to the collection, and
+after using every scrap of spare wire available made another temporary
+job of it.</p>
+
+<p>Returning, however, we found at a cross-over that the wire had fallen
+from a short piece of board that had been stuck in the parapet to keep it
+clear of the trench. As my pal reached up to replace it his head caught
+the eye of a sniper, whose bullet, missing by a fraction, struck and knocked
+down the piece of wood.</p>
+
+<p>The signaller's exclamation was: "Blimey, mate, it's lucky he ain't
+broke the blinkin' line again!"&mdash;<i>J. Hudson (late R.G.A.), 6 Ventnor Road,
+New Cross, S.E.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"In the Midst of War&mdash;&mdash;"</h3>
+
+<p>A battalion of a London regiment was in reserve in Rivière-Grosville,
+a small village just behind the line, in March 1917.
+Towards midnight we were ordered to fall in in fighting order as it was
+believed that the Germans had retired.</p>
+
+<p>Our mission was to reconnoitre the German position, and we were
+cautioned that absolute silence must be preserved.</p>
+
+<p>All went well until we reached the German barbed wire entanglements,
+that had to be negotiated by narrow paths, through which we proceeded
+softly and slowly, and with the wind "well up."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the air was rent by a stream of blistering invective, and a
+Cockney Tommy turned round on his pal, who had tripped and accidentally
+prodded him with the point of his bayonet, and at the top of
+his voice said:</p>
+
+<p>"Hi, wot's the blinkin' gime, Charlie? Do that again and I'll knock
+yer ruddy 'ead off."</p>
+
+<p>Charlie raised his voice to the level of the other's and said he'd like
+to see him do it, and while we flattened ourselves on the ground expecting
+a storm of bullets and bombs at any moment, the two pals dropped their
+rifles and had it out with their fists.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, rumour was correct, the Germans had retired.&mdash;<i>H. T.
+Scillitoe, 77 Stanmore Road, Stevenage, Herts.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Case for the Ordnance</h3>
+
+<p>A pitch dark night on the Salonika front in 1917. I was in charge
+of an advanced detachment near a railhead.</p>
+
+<p>A general and a staff officer were travelling by rail-motor towards the
+front line when in the darkness the rail-motor crashed into some stationary
+freight trucks, completely wrecking the vehicle and instantly killing the
+driver.</p>
+
+<p>I rushed with a stretcher party to render help. The general and his
+staff officer were unconscious amid the wreckage.</p>
+
+<p>Feverishly we worked to remove the debris which pinned them down.
+Two of us caught the general beneath the shoulders, and one was raising
+his legs when to his horror one leg came away in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>When the general regained his senses, seeing our concern, he quickly
+reassured us. The leg turned out to be a wooden one! He had lost
+the original at Hill 60.</p>
+
+<p>The tension over, one of the stretcher-bearers, a Cockney from Mile
+End, whispered into my ear, "We can't take 'im to the 'orspital, sarge,
+he wants to go dahn to the Ordnance!"&mdash;<i>Sgt. T. C. Jones, M.S.M., 15
+Bushey Mill Lane, Watford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Dismal Jimmy's Prisoner</h3>
+
+<p>Out of the ebb and flow, the mud and blood, the din and confusion
+of a two days' strafe on the Somme in September 1917 my particular
+chum, Private James X., otherwise known as "Dismal Jimmy," emerged
+with a German prisoner who was somewhat below the usual stature and
+considerably the worse for the wear and tear of his encounter with the
+Cockney soldier.</p>
+
+<p>"Jimmy," although obviously proud of his captive, was, as usual,
+"fed up" with the war, the strafe, and everything else. To make matters
+worse, on his way to the support trenches he was caught in the head by
+a sniper's bullet.</p>
+
+<p>His pet grievance, however, did not come from this particular misfortune,
+but from the fact that the prisoner had not taken advantage of
+the opportunity to "'Op it!" when the incident occurred. "Wot yer
+fink ov 'im, mate?" he queried. "Followed me all rahnd the blinkin'
+trenches, 'e did! Thinks I got a bit o' tripe on a skewer, maybe, th'
+dirty dog!" "Jimmy" muttered. Then he came under the orders
+of a Higher Command.&mdash;<i>H. J. R., 1 Central Buildings, Westminster, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Creepy Feeling</h3>
+
+<p>In the brick-fields at La Bassée, 1915, there was a pump about five
+yards from our front line which we dare not approach in daylight. At
+night it was equally dangerous as it squeaked and so drew the sniper's fire.</p>
+
+<p>We gave up trying to use it after a few of our fellows had been sniped
+in their attempts, until Nobby Clarke said <i>he</i> would get the water, adding:
+"That blinkin' sniper hasn't my name on any of his ruddy bullets."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After he had gone we heard the usual squeak of the pump, followed by
+the inevitable <i>ping!</i> ... <i>ping!</i> We waited. No Nobby returned.</p>
+
+<p>Two of us crawled out to where he lay to bring him in. "Strewth,
+Bill," he cried when my mate touched him, "you didn't 'arf put the
+blinkin' wind up me, <i>creepin' aht like that</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>There he lay, on his back, with a piece of rope tied to the handle of
+the pump. We always got our water after that.&mdash;<i>F. J. Pike (late 2nd
+Grenadier Guards), 4 Hilldrop Road, Bromley, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Toot-Sweet," the Runner</h3>
+
+<p>Scene: Before Combles in the front line.</p>
+
+<p>Position: Acute.</p>
+
+<p>Several runners had been despatched from the forward position with
+urgent messages for Headquarters, and all had suffered the common
+fate of these intrepid fellows. One Cockney named Sweet, and known as
+"Toot-Sweet" for obvious reasons, had distinguished himself upon
+various occasions in acting as a runner.</p>
+
+<p>A volunteer runner was called for to cover a particularly dangerous
+piece of ground, and our old friend was to the fore as usual. "But,"
+said the company officer, "I can't send you again&mdash;someone else must
+go."</p>
+
+<p>Imagine his astonishment when "Toot-Sweet" said, "Giv' us this
+charnce, sir. I've got two mentions in dispatches now, an' I only want
+annuvver to git a medal."</p>
+
+<p>He went, but he did not get a medal.&mdash;<i>E. V. S. (late Middlesex Regt.),
+London, N.W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Applying the Moral</h3>
+
+<p>Before we made an attack on "The Mound of Death," St. Eloi,
+in the early part of 1916, our Brigadier-General addressed the
+battalion and impressed upon us the importance of taking our objective.</p>
+
+<p>He told us the tale of two mice which fell into a basin of milk. The
+faint-hearted one gave up and was drowned. The other churned
+away with his legs until the milk turned into butter and he could
+walk away! He hoped that we would show the same determination
+in our attack.</p>
+
+<p>We blew up part of the German front line, which had been mined,
+and attacked each side of the crater, and took the position, though with
+heavy losses.</p>
+
+<p>On the following day one of my platoon fell into the crater, which,
+of course, was very muddy. As he plunged about in it he shouted
+"When I've churned this ruddy mud into concrete I'm 'opping aht
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>This was the action in which our gallant chaplain, Captain the Rev.
+Noel Mellish, won the V.C.&mdash;<i>"Reg. Bomber," 4th Royal Fusiliers, 3rd
+Division.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Spelling v. Shelling</h3>
+
+<p>An attack was to be made by our battalion at Givenchy in 1915.
+The Germans must have learned of the intention, for two hours
+before it was due to begin they sent up a strong barrage, causing many
+casualties.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 395px;">
+<img src="images/i070.jpg" width="395" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Letters and cards, which might be their last, were being sent home
+by our men, and a Cockney at the other end of our dug-out shouted to
+his mate, "'Arry, 'ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"&mdash;<i>H. W. Mason
+(late 23rd London Regt.), 26 Prairie Street, Battersea, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>Too Much Hot Water</p>
+
+<p>We were taking a much-needed bath and change in the Brewery vats at
+Poperinghe, when Jerry started a mad five minutes' "strafe" with, as it
+seemed, the old Brewery as a target.</p>
+
+<p>Above the din of explosions, falling bricks, and general "wind-up"
+the aggrieved voice of Sammy Wilkes from Poplar, who was still in the
+vat, was heard:</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme, and I only asked for a little drop more 'ot water."&mdash;<i>Albert
+Girardot (late K.R.R.), 250 Cornwall Road, Ladbroke Grove, W.11.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Ducks and Drakes! Ducks and Drakes!"</h3>
+
+<p>After the evacuation of the Dardanelles the "Drakes" of the Royal
+Naval Division were ordered to France. Amongst them was Jack
+(his real name was John). A young Soccer player, swift of foot, he was
+chosen as a "runner."</p>
+
+<p>One day he tumbled into a shell hole. And just as he had recovered
+his wits in came Colonel Freyberg, V.C., somewhat wounded. Seeing
+Jack, he told him he was just the boy he wanted&mdash;the lad had run away
+from home to join up before he was seventeen&mdash;and scribbling a note
+the colonel handed it to him.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was told if he delivered it safely he could help the colonel
+to take Beaucourt. Jack began to scramble out. It was none too inviting,
+for shells were bursting in all directions, and it was much more comfortable
+inside. With a wide vocabulary from the Old Kent Road, he timely
+remembered that his father was a clergyman, and muttering to himself,
+"Ducks and drakes, ducks and drakes," he reached the top and went
+on his way.</p>
+
+<p>The sequel was that the message was delivered, reinforcements came
+up, led by the boy to the colonel, and Beaucourt was taken.&mdash;<i>Father
+Hughes, 60 Hainault Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>You Must have Discipline</h3>
+
+<p>On September 14, 1916, at Angle Wood on the Somme, the 168th
+(London) Brigade Signals were unloading a limber on a slope, on
+top of which was a battery which Jerry was trying to find. One of his
+shells found us, knocking all of us over and wounding nine or ten of us
+(one fatally).</p>
+
+<p>As the smoke and dust cleared, our Cockney sergeant (an old soldier
+whose slogan was "You must have dis<i>cip</i>line") gradually rose to a
+sitting position, and, whipping out his notebook and pencil, called
+"Nah, then, oo's wounded?" and calmly proceeded to write down
+names.&mdash;<i>Wm. R. Smith (late R.E. Signals), 231 Halley Road, Manor
+Park, E.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>L.B.W. in Mespot</h3>
+
+<p>At a certain period during the operations in Mesopotamia so dependent
+were both the British and the Turks on the supply of water from
+the Tigris that it became an unwritten law that water-carriers from both
+sides were not to be sniped at.</p>
+
+<p>This went on until a fresh British regiment, not having had the position
+explained, fired on a party of Turks as they were returning from the
+river. The next time we went down to get water the Turks, of course,
+returned the compliment; so from then onwards all water carrying had
+to be done under cover of darkness.</p>
+
+<p>On one of these occasions a Turkish sniper peppered our water party
+as they were returning to our lines. They all got back, however; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+one, a man from Limehouse, was seen to be struggling with his water
+container only half full, and at the same time it was noticed that his
+trousers and boots were saturated.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi!" shouted the sergeant, "you've lost half the water. Did that
+sniper get your bucket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not 'im," replied the Cockney, "I saw to that. 'E only got me leg."</p>
+
+<p>What, in the darkness, appeared to be water spilt from the bucket
+was really the result of a nasty flesh wound.&mdash;<i>J. M. Rendle (Lieut.,
+I.A.R.O.), White Cottage, St. Leonard's Gardens, Hove, Sussex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Trench-er Work</h3>
+
+<p>We were attacking Messines Ridge. The ground was a mass of
+flooded shell-holes. Hearing a splash and some cursing in a familiar
+voice, I called out, "Are you all right, Tubby?"</p>
+
+<p>The reply came, as he crawled out of a miniature mine crater, "Yus,
+but I've lorst me 'ipe (rifle)."</p>
+
+<p>I asked what he was going to do, and he replied, "You dig them
+German sausages out with yer baynit and I'll eat 'em."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he pulled out his knife and fork and proceeded towards the
+enemy trenches.&mdash;<i>"Pip Don" (London Regt.), 22 Ingram Road, Thornton
+Heath.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"The Best Man&mdash;Goes Fust"</h3>
+
+<p>In the second battle of Arras, 1917, our regiment was held up near
+Gavrelle and was occupying a line of shell-holes. The earth was
+heaving all around us with the heavy barrage. Peeping over the top
+of my shell-hole I found my neighbours, "Shorty" (of Barnes) and
+"Tiny" (of Kent) arguing about who was the best man.</p>
+
+<p>All of a sudden over came one of Jerry's five-nines. It burst too close
+to "Shorty," who got the worst of it, and was nearly done for. But
+he finished his argument, for he said to "Tiny" in a weak voice, "That
+shows you who's the best man. My ole muvver always says as the best
+goes fust."&mdash;<i>J. Saxby, Paddington, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>When Clemenceau Kissed the Sergeant</h3>
+
+<p>About Christmas of 1917 I was on the Somme with one of the most
+Cockney of the many battalions of the Royal Fusiliers. As we
+sheltered in dug-outs from the "gale" Fritz was putting over, to our
+surprise we heard a voice greet us in French, "<i>Allons, mes enfants</i>: <i>Ça
+va toujours</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Looking up we beheld an old man in shabby suit and battered hat
+who seemed the typical French peasant. "Well, of all the old idiots,"
+called out the sergeant. "Shut yer face an' 'ook it, ye blamed old fool."
+For answer the old man gave the sergeant the surprise of his life by
+seizing him in a grip of iron and planting a resounding kiss on each cheek,
+French fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment some brass hats came along and the mystery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+was explained. The "old fool" was the late Georges Clemenceau, then
+French War Minister, who had come to see for himself what it was like
+in our sector and had lost his guides.</p>
+
+<p>"An' to think that 'e kissed me just like I was a kid, after I'd told
+'im to 'ook it," commented the sergeant afterwards. "Wonder wot
+'e'd 'a done 'ad I told 'im to go to 'ell, as I'd 'alf a mind to."</p>
+
+<p>Years later I was one of a party of the British Legion received in Paris
+by "The Tiger," and I recalled the incident. "Père La Victoire"
+laughed heartily. "That Cockney sergeant was right," he said, "I was
+an old fool to go about like that in the line, but then somebody has got
+to play the fool in war-time, so that there may be no follies left for the
+wise heads to indulge in."&mdash;<i>H. Stockman, Hôtel Terminus, Rue St. Lazare,
+Paris, VIIIème, France.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Poet and&mdash;Prophet</h3>
+
+<p>I was sitting with my pal in the trenches of the front line waiting
+for the next move when I heard our Cockney break into the chorus
+of a home-made song:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+"'Twas moonlight in the trenches,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sky was royal blue,</span><br />
+When Jerry let his popgun go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And up the 'ole 'ouse flew."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>The last words were drowned in a terrific crash. There was sudden
+quiet afterwards, and then a voice said, "There y'are, wot did I tell
+yer?"&mdash;<i>T. E. Crouch, 28 Eleanor Road, Hackney, E.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Pub that Opened Punctually</h3>
+
+<p>It was at the village of Zudkerque, where Fritz had bombed and
+blown up a dump in 1916. My pal and I were standing outside a
+cafe, the windows of which were shuttered, when the blast of a terrific
+explosion blew out the shutters. They hit my pal and me on the head
+and knocked us into the roadway.</p>
+
+<p>My pal picked himself up, and, shaking bits of broken glass off him
+and holding a badly gashed head, said: "Lumme, Ginger, they don't
+'arf open up quick 'ere. Let's go an 'ave one."&mdash;<i>J. March (late R.E.),
+London, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Precious Tiny Tot</h3>
+
+<p>We had paraded for the rum issue at Frankton Camp, near Ypres,
+when the enemy opened fire with long-range guns. A Cockney
+came forward with his mug, drew his issue, and moved off to drink it
+under cover and at leisure. Suddenly a large shell whooped over and
+burst about 40 yards away. With a casual glance at the fountain of
+earth which soared up, the man calmly removed his shrapnel helmet and
+held it over his mug until the rain of earth and stones ceased.&mdash;<i>"Skipper,"
+D.L.I., London, W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cigs and Cough Drops</h3>
+
+<p>Cigarettes we knew not; food was scarce, so was ammunition.
+Consequently I was detailed on the eve of the retreat from Serbia to
+collect boxes of S.A.A. lying near the front line.</p>
+
+<p>On the way to report my arrival to the infantry officer I found a
+Cockney Tommy badly wounded in the chest. "It's me chest, ain't
+it, mate?" he asked. I nodded in reply. "Then I'll want corf drops,
+not them," and with that he handed me a packet of cigarettes. How
+he got them and secretly saved them up so long is a mystery.</p>
+
+<p>I believe he knew that he would not require either cough drops or
+cigarettes, and I took a vow to keep the empty packet to remind me of
+the gallant fellow.&mdash;<i>H. R. (late R.F.A.), 10th Division, London, N.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Smiler" to the End</h3>
+
+<p>When Passchendaele started on July 31, 1917, we who were holding
+ground captured in the Messines stunt of June 7 carried out a
+"dummy" attack.</p>
+
+<p>One of the walking wounded coming back from this affair of bluff, I
+struck a hot passage, for Jerry was shelling the back areas with terrific
+pertinacity. Making my way to the corduroy road by Mount Kemmel,
+I struck a stretcher party. Their burden was a rifleman of the R.B.'s,
+whose body was a mass of bandages. Seeing me ducking and dodging
+every time a salvo burst near he called out:</p>
+
+<p>"Keep wiv me, mate, 'cos two shells never busts in the same 'ole&mdash;and
+if I ain't a shell 'ole 'oo is?"</p>
+
+<p>Sheer grit kept him alive until after we reached Lord Derby's War
+Hospital outside Warrington, and the nickname of "Smiler" fitted
+him to the last.&mdash;<i>W. G. C., 2 Avonly Road, S.E.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"The Bishop" and the Bright Side</h3>
+
+<p>A fully-qualified chartered accountant in the City, my pal,
+"The Bishop"&mdash;so called because of his dignified manner&mdash;was
+promoted company-clerk in the Irish Rifles at Messines in 1917.</p>
+
+<p>Company headquarters were in a dark and dismal barn where the
+Company Commander and "The Bishop" were writing under difficulties
+one fine morning&mdash;listening acutely to the shriek and crash of Jerry's
+whizz-bangs just outside the ramshackle door.</p>
+
+<p>The betting was about fifty to one on a direct hit at any moment. The
+skipper had a wary eye on "The Bishop"&mdash;oldish, shortish, stoutish,
+rather comical card in his Tommy's kit. Both were studiously preserving
+an air of outward calm.</p>
+
+<p>Then the direct hit came&mdash;high up, bang through the rafters, and blew
+off the roof. "The Bishop" looked up at the sky, still clutching his
+fountain-pen.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that's better, sir," he said. "Now we can see what we are doing."&mdash;<i>P.
+J. K., Westbourne Grove, W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Chuck yer Blinkin' 'Aggis at 'im!"</h3>
+
+<p>The Cockney inhabitants of "Brick Alley," at Carnoy, on the
+Somme in 1916, had endured considerable attention from a German
+whizz-bang battery situated a mile or so away behind Trones Wood.</p>
+
+<p>During a lull in the proceedings a fatigue party of "Jocks," each
+carrying a 40-lb. sphere, the business end of a "toffee-apple" (trench
+mortar bomb), made their appearance, and were nicely strung out in
+the trench when Jerry opened out again.</p>
+
+<p>The chances of a direct hit made matters doubly unpleasant.</p>
+
+<p>The tension became a little too much for one of the regular billetees,
+and from a funk-hole in the side of the trench a reproachful voice
+addressed the nearest Highlander: "For the luv o' Mike, Jock, get up
+and chuck yer blinkin' 'aggis at
+'em."&mdash;<i>J. C. Whiting (late 8th
+Royal Sussex Pioneers), 36 Hamlet
+Gardens, W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Back to Childhood</h3>
+
+<p>I had been given a lift in an
+A.S.C. lorry going to Jonchery
+on May 27, 1918, when it was
+suddenly attacked by a German
+plane. On getting a burst of
+machine-gun bullets through the
+wind-screen the driver, a stout
+man of about forty, pulled up,
+and we both clambered down.</p>
+
+<p>The plane came lower and re-opened
+fire, and as there was no
+other shelter we were obliged to
+crawl underneath the lorry and
+dodge from one side to the other
+in order to avoid the bullets.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;">
+<img src="images/i075.jpg" width="319" height="400" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Fancy a bloke my age playin' 'ide an' seek"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After one hurried "pot" at the plane, and as we dived for the other
+side, my companion gasped: "Lumme! Fancy a bloke my age a-playin'
+'ide an' seek!"&mdash;<i>H. G. E. Woods, "The Willows," Bridge Street,
+Maidenhead.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Altruist</h3>
+
+<p>One afternoon in July 1917 our battalion was lying by a roadside
+on the Ypres front waiting for night to fall so that we could proceed
+to the front line trenches.</p>
+
+<p>"Smiffy" was in the bombing section of his platoon and had a bag
+of Mills grenades to carry.</p>
+
+<p>Fritz began to get busy, and soon we had shrapnel bursting overhead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+"Smiffy" immediately spread his body over his bag of bombs like a
+hen over a clutch of eggs.</p>
+
+<p>"What the 'ell are you sprawling over them bombs for?" asked the
+sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Smiffy, "it's like this 'ere, sergeant. I wouldn't
+mind a little Blighty one meself, but I'd jest 'ate for any of these bombs
+ter get wounded while I'm wiv 'em."&mdash;<i>T. E. M. (late London Regt.),
+Colliers Wood, S.W.19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Minnie's Stepped on my Toe!"</h3>
+
+<p>We were lying in front of Bapaume in August 1918 awaiting reinforcements.
+They came from Doullens, and among them was a
+Cockney straight from England. He greeted our sergeant with the
+words, "Wot time does the dance start?" The sergeant, an old-timer,
+replied, "The dance starts right now."</p>
+
+<p>So over the top we went, but had not gone far when the Cockney was
+bowled over by a piece from a minnenwerfer, which took half of one
+foot away.</p>
+
+<p>I was rendering first aid when the sergeant came along. He looked
+down and said, "Hello, my lad, soon got tired of the dance, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The little Cockney looked up and despite his pain he smiled and
+said, "On wiv the dance, sergeant! I'm sitting this one aht, fer Minnie
+has stepped on my toe."&mdash;<i>E. C. Hobbs (late 1st Royal Marine Battn.),
+103 Moore Park Road, Fulham, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Dim Dawn</h3>
+
+<p>Jerry had made a surprise raid on our trenches one morning just as
+it was getting light. He got very much the worst of it, but when
+everything was over Cockney Simmonds was missing.</p>
+
+<p>We hunted everywhere, but couldn't find him. Suddenly we saw him
+approaching with a hefty looking German whom he had evidently
+taken prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get him from, Simmonds?" we asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, d'yer see that shell-'ole over there 'alf full o' water?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," we said, all craning our necks to look.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this 'ere Fritz didn't."&mdash;<i>L. Digby (12th East Surreys), 10
+Windsor Road, Holloway, N.7.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Beau Brummell's Puttees</h3>
+
+<p>March 1918. Just before the big German offensive. One night I
+was out with a reconnoitring patrol in "No Man's Land." We had
+good reason to believe that Jerry also had a patrol in the near vicinity.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire in our direction seemed to
+indicate that we had been spotted. We dived for shell-holes and any
+available cover, breathlessly watching the bullets knock sparks off the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+barbed wire. When the firing ceased and we attempted to re-form our
+little party, a Cockney known as "Posh" Wilks was missing.</p>
+
+<p>Fearing the worst, we peered into the darkness. Just then a Verey
+light illuminated the scene, and we saw the form of "Posh" Wilks some
+little distance away. I went over to see what was wrong, and to my
+astonishment he was kneeling down carefully rewinding one of his puttees.
+"Can't get these ruddy things right anyhow to-day," he said.&mdash;<i>H. W.
+White (late Royal Sussex Regt.), 18 Airthrie Road, Goodmayes, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Plenty of Room on Top</h3>
+
+<p>On December 4, 1917, we made a surprise attack on the enemy in the
+Jabal Hamrin range in Northern Mesopotamia.</p>
+
+<p>We wore our winter clothing (the same as in Europe), with tin hats
+complete. After stumbling over the rocks in extended order for some
+time, the platoon on my left, who were on higher ground, sighted a Turkish
+camp fire on the right.</p>
+
+<p>We swung round in that direction, to find ourselves up against an almost
+blank wall of rock, about 20 ft. high, the enemy being somewhere on top.</p>
+
+<p>At last we found a place at which to scale it, one at a time. We began
+to mount, in breathless silence, expecting the first man to come tumbling
+down on top of all the rest.</p>
+
+<p>I was the second, and just as I started to climb I felt two sharp tugs
+at my entrenching tool and a hoarse Cockney voice whispered, "Full up
+inside; plenty o' room on top." I was annoyed at the time, but I have
+often laughed over it since.&mdash;<i>P. V. Harris, 89 Sherwood Park Road, S.W.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Nearly Lost His Washing-Bowl</h3>
+
+<p>In March 1917 we held the front line trenches opposite a sugar refinery
+held by the Germans. We got the order to stand to as our engineers
+were going to blow up a mine on the German position.</p>
+
+<p>Up went the mine. Then Fritz started shelling us. Shells were
+bursting above and around us. A piece of shrapnel hit a Cockney, a
+lad from Paddington, on his tin hat.</p>
+
+<p>When things calmed down another Cockney bawled out, "Lumme, that
+was a near one, Bill." "Blimey, not 'arf," was the reply. "If I 'adn't
+got my chin-strap dahn I'd 'ave lost my blooming washing-bowl."&mdash;<i>E.
+Rickard (late Middlesex Regt.), 65 Apsley End, Hemel Hempstead,
+Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bath Night</h3>
+
+<p>The trenches on the Somme were very deep and up to our knees in
+mud, and we were a pretty fine sight after being in the front line
+several days over our time.</p>
+
+<p>I shall never forget the night we passed out of the trenches&mdash;like a lot
+of mud-larks. The O.C., seeing the state we were in, ordered us to have
+a bath. We stopped at an old barn, where the R.E.'s had our water<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+ready in wooden tubs. Imagine the state of the water when, six to a tub,
+we had to skim the mud off after one another!</p>
+
+<p>Just as we were enjoying the treat, Jerry started sending over some of
+his big stuff, and one shell took the back part of the barn off.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody began getting out of the tubs, except a Cockney, who sat
+up in his tub and shouted out, "Blimey, Jerry, play the blinkin' game.
+Wait till I've washed me back. I've lorst me soap."&mdash;<i>C. Ralph (late
+Royal Welch Fusiliers), 153d Guinness Buildings, Hammersmith, W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Back to the Shack</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst on the Somme in October 1916 my pal Mac (from Notting
+Hill) and myself were sent forward to a sunken road just behind
+Les B&oelig;ufs to assist at a forward telephone post which was in communication
+with battalion H.Q. by wire and with the companies in the trenches
+by runner.</p>
+
+<p>During the night a false "S O S" was sent up, and our guns opened
+out&mdash;and, of course, so did the German guns&mdash;and smashed our telephone
+wire.</p>
+
+<p>It being "Mac's" turn out, he picked up his 'phone and went up the
+dug-out steps. When he had almost reached the top a big shell burst
+right in the dug-out entrance and blew "Mac" back down the stairs
+to the bottom, bruised, but otherwise unhurt.</p>
+
+<p>Picking himself up slowly he removed his hat, placed his hand over
+his heart, and said, gazing round, "Back to the old 'ome agin&mdash;and it
+ain't changed a bit."&mdash;<i>A. J. West (late Corpl., Signals), 1/13th London
+Regt., 212 Third Avenue, Paddington, W.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Last Gamble</h3>
+
+<p>One night in July 1917, as darkness came along, my battalion moved
+up and relieved a battalion in the front line.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning as dawn was breaking Jerry started a violent strafe. My
+platoon occupied three fire-bays, and we in the centre one could shout
+to those in the bays on either side, although we could not see them.</p>
+
+<p>In one of the end bays was "Monte Carlo" Teddy, a true lad from
+London, a "bookie's tick-tack" before the war. He was called "Monte
+Carlo" because he would gamble on anything. As a shell exploded
+anywhere near us Teddy would shout, "Are you all right, sarge?" until
+this kind of got on my nerves, so I crawled into his bay to inquire why
+he had suddenly taken such an interest in my welfare. He explained,
+"I gets up a draw larst night, sarge, a franc a time, as to which of us in
+this lot stopped a packet first, and you're my gee-gee."</p>
+
+<p>I had hardly left them when a shell exploded in their bay. The only
+one to stop a packet was Teddy, and we carried him into the next bay to
+await the stretcher-bearers. I could see he would never reach the dressing
+station.</p>
+
+<p>Within five minutes I had stopped a lovely Blighty, and they put me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+alongside Teddy. When he noticed who it was he said, "Well I'm blowed,
+just my blinkin' luck; licked a short head and I shan't last long enough
+to see if there's a' objection."</p>
+
+<p>Thus he died, as he always said he would, with his boots on, and my
+company could never replace him. Wherever two men of my old mob
+meet you can bet your boots that one or the other is sure to say, "Remember
+'Monte Carlo' Ted?"&mdash;<i>E. J. Clark (late Sergeant, Lincoln Regt.),
+c/o Sir Thomas Lipton, Bart., K.C.V.O., Osidge, Southgate, N.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Infernal Drip-Drip-Drip!</h3>
+
+<p>We were trying to sleep in half a dug-out that was roofed with a
+waterproof sheet&mdash;Whale and I. It was a dark, wet night. I had
+hung a mess tin on a nail to catch the water that dripped through, partly
+to keep it off my head, also to provide water for an easy shave in the
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>A strafe began. The night was illuminated by hundreds of vivid
+flashes, and shells of all kinds burst about us. The dug-out shook with
+the concussions. Trench mortars, rifle grenades, and machine-gun fire
+contributed to the din.</p>
+
+<p>Whale, who never had the wind up, was shifting his position and
+turning from one side to the other.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" I asked my chum. "Can't you sleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sleep! 'Ow the 'ell can a bloke sleep with that infernal <i>drip-drip-drip</i>
+goin' on?"&mdash;<i>P. T. Hughes (late 21st London Regiment, 47th Division),
+12 Shalimar Gardens, Acton, W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"A Blinkin' Vanity Box"</h3>
+
+<p>After the terrific upheaval of June 7, 1917, my brigade (the 111th)
+held the line beyond Wytschaete Ridge for some weeks. While my
+company was in support one day my corporal and I managed to scrounge
+into a pill-box away from the awful mud. We could not escape the
+water because the explosion of the mines on June 7 had cracked the
+foundation of our retreat and water was nearly two feet deep on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>Just before dusk on this rainy July evening I was shaving before a
+metal mirror in the top bunk in the pill-box, while the corporal washed
+in a mess-tin in the bunk below. Just then Jerry started a severe strafe
+and a much-muddied runner of the 13th Royal Fusiliers appeared in the
+unscreened doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in and shelter, old man," I said. So he stepped on to an
+ammunition box that just failed to keep his feet clear of the water.</p>
+
+<p>He had watched our ablutions in silence for a minute or so, when a shell
+burst almost in the doorway and flung him into the water below our bunks,
+where he sat with his right arm red and rent, sagging at his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Call this a shelter?" he said. "Blimey, it's a blinkin' vanity box!"&mdash;<i>Sgt.,
+10th R.F., East Sheen, S.W.14.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Playing at Statues</h3>
+
+<p>We were making our way to a detached post just on the left of
+Vimy, and Jerry was sending up Verey lights as we were going
+along. Every time one went up we halted, and kept quite still in case
+we should be
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>It was funny
+indeed to see how
+some of the men
+halted when a
+light went up.
+Some had one foot
+down and one
+raised, and others
+were in a crouching
+position. "My
+missus orta see
+me nah playing
+at blinkin'
+statchoos," said
+one old Cockney.&mdash;<i>T.
+Kelly (late
+17th London Regt.),
+43 Ocean Street,
+Stepney, E.1.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 443px;">
+<img src="images/i080.jpg" width="443" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Playin' at statchoos."</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Bo Peep&mdash;1915 Version</h3>
+
+<p>In 1915 at Fricourt "Copper" Kingsland of our regiment, the 7th
+Royal West Surreys, was on sentry on the fire-step in the front line.
+At this period of the war steel helmets were not in use. Our cap badge
+was in the form of a lamb.</p>
+
+<p>A Fritz sniper registered a hit through Kingsland's hat, cutting the tail
+portion of the lamb away. After he had pulled himself together "Copper"
+surveyed his cap badge and remarked: "On the larst kit inspection
+I reported to the sargint that yer was lorst, and nah I shall 'ave ter tell
+'im that when Bo Peep fahnd yer, yer wagged yer bloomin' tail off in
+gratitood."&mdash;<i>"Spot," Haifu, Farley Road, Selsdon, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jerry's Dip in the Fat</h3>
+
+<p>We were out at rest in an open field on the Somme front when one
+morning, about 5 a.m., our cook, Alf, of Battersea, was preparing
+the company's breakfast. There was bacon, but no bread. I was
+standing beside the cooker soaking one of my biscuits in the fat.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a Jerry airman dived down towards the cooker, firing his
+machine gun. I got under the cooker, Alf fell over the side of it, striking
+his head on the ground. I thought he was hit. But he sat up, rubbing
+his head and looking up at Jerry, who was then flying away.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ere!" he shouted, "next time yer wants a dip in the fat, don't
+be so rough."&mdash;<i>H. A. Redford (late 24th London Regt.), 31 Charrington
+Street, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Carried Unanimously</h3>
+
+<p>Some recently captured trenches had to be cleared of the enemy,
+and in the company told off for the job was a Cockney youth. Proceeding
+along the trench with a Mills bomb in his hand, he came upon
+a number of the enemy hiding in a dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>"Nah then," he shouted, holding up the bomb in readiness to throw
+it if necessary, "all them as votes for coming along wiv me 'old up your
+'ands."</p>
+
+<p>All hands were held up, with the cry "Kamerad! Kamerad!" Upon
+which the Cockney shouted, "Look, mates, it's carried unanermously."&mdash;<i>H.
+Morgan (late 4th Telegraph Construction Co., R.E. Signals), 26 Ranelagh
+Road, Wembley.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Very Hot Bath</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat of the remnants of the Fifth Army in March
+1918 two of the six-inch howitzers of the Honourable Artillery
+Company were in action in some deserted horse-lines outside Péronne.</p>
+
+<p>During a lull Gunner A&mdash;&mdash;, a Londoner, like the rest of us, went
+"scrounging" in some nearby cottages recently abandoned by their
+inhabitants. He reappeared carrying a large zinc bath, and after filling
+it with water from the horse pond he made a huge bonfire with broken
+tables and other furniture, and set the bath on the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Just when the water had been heated Fritz opened out with 5·9's. As
+we were not firing just then we all took cover, with the exception of
+Gunner A&mdash;&mdash;, who calmly set his bath of hot water down by one of the
+guns, undressed, and got into the bath. A minute later a large piece of
+shell also entered the bath, passed through the bottom of it and into the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>The gunner watched the precious water running out, then he slowly
+rose and, beginning to dress, remarked, "Very well, Fritz, have it your
+way. I may not be godly, but I <i>did</i> want to be clean."&mdash;<i>Edward Boaden
+(late H.A.C., 309 Siege Battery), 17 Connaught Gardens, Muswell Hill,
+N.10.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In Lieu of &mdash;&mdash;</h3>
+
+<p>During a winter's night on the Somme a party of us were drawing
+rations just behind the front line trenches. A Cockney chum of mine
+was disgusted to hear the Q.M. say he was issuing hot soup in lieu of rum.</p>
+
+<p>"Coo! What next?" he grumbled. "Soup in lieu of rum, biscuits
+in lieu of bread, jam in lieu&mdash;&mdash;" While he spoke Jerry sent over two
+whizz-bangs which scattered us and the rations and inflicted several
+casualties.</p>
+
+<p>My chum was hit badly. As he was being carried past the Q.M. he
+smiled and said, "Someone will have to be in lieu of me now, Quarter!"&mdash;<i>T.
+Allen (late Plymouth Battn., R.N.D.), 21 Sydney Street, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Putting the Hatt on It</h3>
+
+<p>Two brothers named Hatt were serving together in France. The
+elder was always saying that he would never be hit, as the Germans,
+not being able to spell his name correctly, could not put it on any of their
+shells or bullets. (It was a common saying among the soldiers, of course,
+that a shell or bullet which hit a man had the victim's name on it.)</p>
+
+<p>The younger brother was taken prisoner, and two days later the elder
+brother was shot through the finger. Turning to his mates he exclaimed,
+"Blimey, me brother's been an' split on me."&mdash;<i>W. J. Bowes, 224 Devon's
+Road, Bow, E.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Tangible Evidence</h3>
+
+<p>We were at Levantie in 1915, just before the Battle of Loos, and the
+rumour was about that the Germans were running short of
+ammunition. It was very quiet in our sector, as we were opposite the
+Saxons, and we strolled about at ease.</p>
+
+<p>A party of us was told off to get water just behind the trenches in an
+old farmhouse which had a pump. We filled all the water bottles and rum
+jars and then had a look round the ruins to see what we could scrounge,
+when suddenly Fritz sent a shell over. It hit the wall and sent bricks
+flying all over the place. One of the bricks hit my mate on the head and
+knocked him out. When we had revived him he looked up and said,
+"Strewth, it's right they ain't got no 'ammo.'; they're slinging bricks.
+It shows yer we've got 'em all beat to a frazzle, don't it?"&mdash;<i>J. Delderfield,
+54 Hampden Street, Paddington.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>What the Cornwalls' Motto Meant</h3>
+
+<p>A platoon of my regiment, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry,
+was engaged in carrying screens to a point about 200 yards behind
+the front line. The screens were to be set up to shield a road from
+German observation balloons, and they were made of brushwood bound
+together with wire. They were rolled up for convenience of transport,
+and when rolled they looked like big bundles of pea-sticks about ten
+feet long. They were very heavy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Three men were told off to carry each screen. One of the parties of
+three was composed of two Cornishmen (who happened to be at the ends
+of the screen) and their Cockney pal (in the middle), the screen being
+carried on their shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>When they had nearly reached the point in the communication trench
+where it was to be dumped, Jerry sent over a salvo of whizz-bangs.
+His range was good, and consequently the carrying party momentarily
+became disorganised. The Cornishman at the front end of the screen
+dashed towards the front line, whilst the man at the other end made a
+hurried move backwards.</p>
+
+<p>This left the Cockney with the whole of the weight of the screen on
+his shoulder. The excitement was over in a few seconds and the Cornishmen
+returned to find the Cockney lying on the duckboards, where he
+had subsided under the weight of his burden, trying to get up. He
+stopped struggling when he saw them and said very bitterly, "Yus:
+One and All's yer blinkin' motter; <i>one</i> under the blinkin' screen and <i>all</i>
+the rest 'op it."</p>
+
+<p>"One and All," I should mention, is the Cornwalls' motto.&mdash;<i>"Cornwall,"
+Greenford, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Atlas&mdash;On the Somme</h3>
+
+<p>During the Somme offensive we were holding the line at Delville
+Wood, and a Cockney corporal fresh from England came to our
+company.</p>
+
+<p>He was told to take charge of a very advanced post, and our company
+officer gave him all important instructions as to bomb stores, ammunition,
+rifle grenades, emergency rations, S O S rockets, gas, and all the
+other numerous and important orders for an advanced post.</p>
+
+<p>After the officer asked him if he understood it all, he said, "Blimey,
+sir, 'as 'Aig gone on leave?"&mdash;<i>Ex-Sergt. Geary, D.C.M. (East Surrey
+Regt.), 57 Longley Road, Tooting.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Putting the Lid on It</h3>
+
+<p>On the Struma Front, Salonika, in September 1916, I was detailed
+to take a party of Bulgar prisoners behind the lines.</p>
+
+<p>Two Bulgars, one of them a huge, bald-headed man, were carrying a
+stretcher in which was reposing "Ginger" Hart, of Deptford, who was
+shot through the leg.</p>
+
+<p>The white bursts of shrapnel continued in our vicinity as we proceeded.
+One shell burst immediately in front of us, and we halted.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this juncture that I saw "Ginger" leave his stretcher and hop
+away on one leg. Having picked up a tin hat, he hopped back to the big
+Bulgar prisoner and put the hat on his bald head, saying, "Abaht time
+we put the lid on the sooit puddin', corp: that's the fifth shot they've
+fired at that target."&mdash;<i>G. Findlay, M.M. (late 81st Infantry Brigade,
+27th Division), 3a Effie Place, Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Taffy was a&mdash;German!</h3>
+
+<p>In the confused fighting round Gueudecourt in 1916 a machine-gun
+section occupied a position in a maze of trenches, some of which led
+towards the German line. The divisional pioneer battalion was the
+Monmouthshire Regiment, all of whose men were Welsh and for the
+most part spoke Welsh.</p>
+
+<p>A ration party of the M.G.C. had gone back one night and had been
+absent some time when two members rushed into the position, gasping:
+"We took the wrong turning! Walked into Jerry's line! They've
+got Smiffy&mdash;and the rations!"</p>
+
+<p>We had hardly got over the shock of this news when Smiffy came
+staggering up, dragging the rations and mopping a bleeding face, at
+the same time cursing the rest of the ration party.</p>
+
+<p>"Luv us, Smiffy, how did you get away? We thought the Germans
+had got you for sure!"</p>
+
+<p>"Germans," gasped Smiffy. "GERMANS! <i>I thought they was the
+Monmouths!</i>"&mdash;<i>S. W. Baxter (late 86th M.G.C.), 110 Bishopsgate, E.C.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Tea-time Story</h3>
+
+<p>At the Battle of Cambrai in November 1917 my regiment, the
+London Irish Rifles, was undergoing a terrific bombardment in
+Bourlon Wood.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans had been plastering us for about 12 hours with "all
+calibres," to say nothing of continual gassing.</p>
+
+<p>As we had been wearing gas-masks almost all day without respite,
+we were nearly "all in" as the afternoon wore on.</p>
+
+<p>I was attending to a man with a smashed foot, when I felt a touch
+on my shoulder, and, blinking up through my sweat-covered mask, I
+saw our mess-orderly with his hand over a mess-tin (to keep the gas
+out, as he said).</p>
+
+<p>I could hardly believe my eyes, but when I heard him say, "Tea
+is ready, Sarg. Blimey, what a strafe!" I lifted my mask and drank
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>From that day till this it has been a wonder to me how he made it.&mdash;<i>S.
+Gibbons,130 Buckhold Road, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Tip to a Prisoner</h3>
+
+<p>The object of our raiding party near Gouzeaucourt in 1917 was to
+obtain a prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>One plucky, but very much undersized, German machine gunner blazed
+away at us until actually pounced upon. A Cockney who was well
+among the leaders jumped down beside him, and heaving him up said:</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, old mate, you're too blinkin' good for this side!"&mdash;and
+then, noticing his lack of inches, "and if yer wants ter make the 'old
+man' larf tell him you're a 'Prussian Guard.'"&mdash;<i>Walter S. Johnson (late
+R.W.F.), 29 Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cockney Logic</h3>
+
+<p>Early in the war aeroplanes were not so common as they were
+later on, and trench "strafing" from the air was practically unheard
+of. One day two privates of the Middlesex Regiment were engaged in
+clearing a section of front line trench near the La Bassée road when a
+German plane came along and sprayed the trenches with machine-gun
+bullets.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i085.jpg" width="600" height="448" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">...and they both went on digging</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of the men (both were typical Cockneys) looked up from his
+digging and said: "Strike, there's a blinkin' aeroplane."</p>
+
+<p>The other took no notice but went on digging.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by the machine came back, still firing, whereupon the
+speaker again looked up, spat, and said: "Blimey, there's annuver
+of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"No, 'tain't," was the reply, "it's the same blighter again."</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," said the first man, "so 'tis." And both went on digging.&mdash;<i>W.
+P. (late Middlesex Regt. and R.A.F.), Bucks.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Penalty, Ref!"</h3>
+
+<p>It was a warm corner on the Givenchy front, with whizz-bangs dealing
+out death and destruction. But it was necessary that communication
+be maintained between the various H.Q.'s, and in this particular sector
+"Alf," from Bow, and myself were detailed to keep the "lines" intact.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a whizz-bang burst above us as we were repairing some
+shattered lines. We ducked instinctively, but friend "Alf" caught a bit
+of the shell and was thrown to the bottom of the slushy trench.</p>
+
+<p>Being a football enthusiast he at once raised his arm in appeal, and,
+with the spirit that wins wars, shouted, "Penalty, ref!"</p>
+
+<p>He was dazed, but unhurt.&mdash;<i>W. G. Harris (late Sergt., R.E.), 34
+Denmark Street, Watford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Appointment with his Medical Adviser</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of the Ancre in November 1916 the 51st
+Division were going over the top on our left while our battalion
+kept Jerry engaged with a raid. Every inch of the rain-sodden landscape
+seemed to be heaving beneath the combined barrages of the
+opposing forces.</p>
+
+<p>My sergeant, a D.C.M., had been lying in the trench badly wounded
+for some hours waiting for things to ease up before he could be got
+down to the dressing-station. Presently our raiding party returned
+with six prisoners, among them an insignificant-looking German officer
+(who, waving a map about, and jabbering wildly, seemed to be blaming
+his capture to the faulty tactics of his High Command).</p>
+
+<p>The wounded sergeant watched these antics for a while with a grin,
+driving the pain-bred puckers from his face, and then called out, "Oi,
+'Indenburg! Never mind abaht ye map o' London; wot time does
+this 'ere war end, 'cos I've got an appointment wiv my medical adviser!"</p>
+
+<p>Dear, brave old chap. His appointment was never kept.&mdash;<i>S. T.
+(late 37th Div.), Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>One Up, and Two to Go</h3>
+
+<p>On the Struma front in 1917 a bombing plane was being put back
+into its hangar. Suddenly there was a terrific bang. A dozen
+of us ran up to see what had happened, but a Cockney voice from inside
+the hangar cried out, "Don't come in. There's two more bombs to
+go off, and I can't find 'em."&mdash;<i>A. Dickinson, Brixton.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>On the Parados</h3>
+
+<p>Dawn of a very hot day in September 1916 on the Balkan front.
+We were in the enemy trenches at "Machine Gun Hill," a position
+hitherto occupied by the Prussian Guards, who were there to encourage
+the Bulgars.</p>
+
+<p>We had taken the position the previous evening with very little loss.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+As the day broke we discovered that we were enfiladed on all sides and
+overlooked by the Prussians not more than forty yards away. It was
+impossible to evacuate wounded and prisoners or for reserves to approach
+with food, water, and ammunition. The enemy counter-attacked in
+overwhelming numbers; shells rained on us; our own were falling short;
+it was suicide to show one's head. Towards noon, casualties lying
+about. The sun merciless. Survivors thoroughly exhausted. Up
+jumped a Cockney bomber. "Blimey, I can't stick this," and perched
+himself on the parados. "I can see 'em; chuck some 'Mills' up."
+And as fast as they were handed to him he pitched bombs into the
+Prussians' midst, creating havoc. He lasted about three minutes,
+then fell, riddled with bullets. He had stemmed the tide.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards we retired. His pluck was never recorded or
+recognised, but his feat will never be forgotten by at least one of the
+few who got through.&mdash;<i>George McCann, 50 Guilford Street, London, W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Croquet</h3>
+
+<p>We were occupying a support line, early in 1918, and a party of us
+was detailed to repair the barbed wire during the night.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney found himself holding a stake while a Cornish comrade
+drove it home with a mallet.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a shell exploded a few yards from the pair and both were
+very badly wounded.</p>
+
+<p>When the Cockney recovered consciousness he was heard to remark
+to his comrade in misfortune, "Blimey, yer wants to be more careful
+wiv that there mallet; yer nearly 'it my 'and wiv it when that there
+firework exploded."&mdash;<i>A. A. Homer, 16 Grove Place, Enfield Wash,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sausages and Mashed</h3>
+
+<p>At the end of 1914 we were in the trenches in the Ypres Salient. As
+we were only about 30 yards from the enemy lines, bombing went
+on all day. The German bombs, shaped like a long sausage, could be
+seen coming through the air. Our sentries, on the look-out for these,
+would shout: "Sausage right!" or "Sausage left!" as they came over.</p>
+
+<p>One night we were strengthened by reinforcements, including several
+Cockneys. The next morning one of our sentries saw a bomb coming
+over and shouted "Sausage right!" There followed an explosion which
+smothered two of our new comrades in mud and shreds of sandbag. One
+of the two got up, with sackcloth twisted all round his neck and pack.
+"'Ere, Bill, wot was that?" he asked one of our men.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, one of those sausages," Bill replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme," said the new man, as he freed himself from the sacking,
+"I don't mind the sausages, but," he added as he wiped the mud from
+his eyes and face, "I don't like the mash."&mdash;<i>H. Millard (late East
+Surrey Regt.), 3 Nevill Road, Stoke Newington, N.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cheery to the End</h3>
+
+<p>We were lining up to go over in the Battle of Arras on April 9, 1917.
+Ours being a Lancashire regiment, there were only two of us Cockneys
+in our platoon. We were standing easy, waiting for the rum issue,
+and Tom, my pal (we both came from Stratford), came over to me
+singing "Let's all go down the Strand...."</p>
+
+<p>Most of the Lancashire lads were looking a bit glum, but it cheered
+them up, and they all began to sing. I was feeling a bit gloomy myself,
+and Tom, seeing this, said: "What's the matter with you, Jimmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I'll see you in London Hospital next week, Tom," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, shut up," says he. "If Jerry sends one over and it's got our
+names on it, why worry? And if we get a bad Blighty one, then I
+hopes they buries us at Manor Park. Here, Jim, tie this disc round
+me neck."</p>
+
+<p>Then the rum came up, and he started them singing, "And another
+little drink wouldn't do us any harm!"</p>
+
+<p>Off we went&mdash;and only ten minutes later he was gone. He was buried
+at Blany, Arras, not Manor Park.&mdash;<i>J. Pugh (late 1st King's Own Royal
+Lancasters), 27 Lizban Street, Blackheath, S.E.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Souvenirs First</h3>
+
+<p>The following incident took place during the Battle of Loos, September
+1915. I had been to Battalion H.Q. with a message and whilst
+awaiting a reply stood with others on "Harrow Road" watching our
+wounded go by.</p>
+
+<p>We frequently recognised wounded pals on the stretchers and inquired
+as to the nature of their wounds. The usual form of inquiry was:
+"Hullo &mdash;&mdash; what have you got?" In reply to this query one wounded
+man of our battalion, ignoring his wound as being of lesser importance,
+proudly answered: "Two Jerry helmets and an Iron Cross!"&mdash;<i>A. H.
+Bell (late Private, 15th London Regt., T.F.), 31 Raeburn Avenue, Surbiton,
+Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Seven Shies a Tanner!</h3>
+
+<p>It was near Hebuterne and very early in the morning of July 1, 1916. A
+terrific bombardment by both the Germans and ourselves was in progress
+just prior to the launching of our Somme offensive. We were in
+assembly trenches waiting for the dread zero hour.</p>
+
+<p>Away on our right some German guns were letting us have it pretty
+hot, and in consequence the "troops" were not feeling in the best of
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p>With us was a very popular Cockney corporal. He took his tin hat
+from off his head when the tension was high and, banging on it with his
+bayonet, cried: "Roll up, me lucky lads! Seven shies a tanner! Who'll
+'ave a go!" That bit of nonsense relieved the tension and enabled us to
+pull ourselves together.&mdash;<i>A. V. B. (late 9th Londons), Guildford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bill Hawkins Fights Them All</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst on the Ypres front during the fighting in 1918 we made an
+early-morning attack across the railway line in front of Dickebusch.
+After going about fifty yards across No Man's Land my Cockney pal
+(Bill Hawkins, from Stepney), who was running beside me, got a slight
+wound in the arm, and before he had gone another two yards he got
+another wound in the left leg.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he stopped, lifted his uninjured arm at the Germans and
+shouted, "Blimey, wot yer all firing at me for? Am I the only blinkin'
+man in this war?"&mdash;<i>S. Stevens (late Middlesex Regt., 2nd Battn.), 7
+Blenheim Street, Chelsea, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Hide and Seek with Jerry</h3>
+
+<p>To get information before the Somme offensive, the new idea of
+making daylight raids on the German trenches was adopted. It fell
+to our battalion to make the first big raid.</p>
+
+<p>Our objective was the "brick-fields" at Beaurains, near Arras, and our
+orders were to take as many prisoners as possible, hold the trench for
+half an hour, do as much damage as we could, and then return. A covering
+barrage was put down, and over we went, one hundred strong.</p>
+
+<p>We got into Jerry's trench all right, but, owing to the many dug-outs
+and tunnels, we could only find a few Germans, and these, having no time
+to bolt underground, got out of the trench and ran to take cover behind
+the kilns and brick-stacks.</p>
+
+<p>And then the fun began. While the main party of us got to work in
+the trench, a few made after the men who had run into the brick-fields,
+and it was a case of hide and seek, round and round and in and out of
+the kilns and brick-stacks.</p>
+
+<p>Despite the seriousness of the situation, one chap, a Cockney, entered
+so thoroughly into the spirit of the thing that when, after a lengthy chase,
+he at last clapped a German on the shoulder, he shouted, "You're 'e!"&mdash;<i>E.
+W. Fellows, M.M. (late 6th D.C.L.I.), 35 Dunlace Road, Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Too Much for his Imagination</h3>
+
+<p>In the platoon of cyclists I was posted to on the outbreak of war
+was a Cockney&mdash;a "Charlie Chaplin" without the funny feet. If there
+was a funny side to a thing, he saw it.</p>
+
+<p>One day, on the advance, just before the battle of the Marne, our
+platoon was acting as part of the left flank guard when a number of enemy
+cavalry were seen advancing over a ridge, some distance away. We were
+ordered to dismount and extend. We numbered about sixteen, so our
+line was not a long one.</p>
+
+<p>A prominent object was pointed out to us, judged at about
+150 yards away, and orders were given not to fire until the enemy
+reached that spot.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>We could see that we were greatly outnumbered, and having to wait
+for them to reach that spot seemed to double the suspense. Our leader
+was giving commands one second and talking like a father the next.
+He said, "Keep cool; each take a target; show them you are British.
+You have as good a chance as they, and although they are superior in
+numbers they have no other superior quality. I want you just to
+imagine that you are on the range again, firing for your pay." Then
+our Cockney Charlie chimed in with: "Yes, but we ain't got no
+bloomin' markers."&mdash;<i>S. Leggs (late Rifle Brigade and Cyclists), 33 New
+Road, Grays, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Currants" for Bunn</h3>
+
+<p>After we had taken part in the advance on the Somme in August
+1916 my battalion was ordered to rest at Bazentin.</p>
+
+<p>We had only been there a day or so when we were ordered to relieve
+the Tyneside Scottish who were badly knocked about. Hardly had we
+reached the front lines, when a little Cockney named Bunn (we never
+knew how he carried his pack, he was so small) got hit. We called for
+stretcher-bearers.</p>
+
+<p>When they put him on the stretcher and were carrying him down the
+line, a doctor asked him his name. The Cockney looked up with a smile
+and answered: "Bunn, sir, and the blighters have put some currants
+into me this time." This gallant Cockney died afterwards.&mdash;<i>J. E. Cully
+(late 13th King's Royal Rifles), 76 Milkwood Road, S.E.24.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Driver to his Horse</h3>
+
+<p>The artillery driver's affection for his own particular pair of horses
+is well known. Our battery, in a particularly unhealthy spot in front
+of Zillebeke, in the Salient, had run out of ammunition, and the terrible
+state of the ground thereabout in the autumn of 1917 necessitated the
+use of pack-horses to "deliver the goods," and even then it was accomplished
+with difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>A little Cockney driver with a pair named Polly and Bill had loaded up
+and was struggling through the mire. Three times Bill had dragged him
+on to his knees and up to his waist in the slush when a big Fritz shell
+dropped uncomfortably near. Polly, with a mighty rear, threw the
+Cockney on to his back and, descending, struck him with a hoof.</p>
+
+<p>Fed up to the teeth and desperate, he struggled to his feet, covered
+from head to feet in slime, and, clenching his fist, struck at the trembling
+and frightened horse, unloading a brief but very vivid description of
+its pedigree and probable future.</p>
+
+<p>Then, cooling off, he began to pacify the mare, apologised, and pardoned
+her vice by saying, "Never mind, ole gal&mdash;I didn't mean ter bash
+yer! I fought the uvver one was hot stuff, but, strike me pink, you
+don't seem <i>'ooman</i>!"&mdash;<i>G. Newell (ex-Sergt., R.F.A.), 22 Queen Road, St.
+Albans.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Two Kinds of "Shorts"</h3>
+
+<p>August 1916, Delville Wood. We had been brought specially
+from rest camp to take the remainder of the wood, which was being
+stoutly contested by the Germans and was holding up our advance.
+The usual barrage, and over we went, and were met by the Germans
+standing on top of their trenches. A fierce bombing fight began. The
+scrap lasted a long time, but at last we charged and captured the trench.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i091.jpg" width="600" height="536" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Yus, yer needn't stare&mdash;I'm real."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of our men, quite a small Cockney, captured a German about twice
+his own size. The German was so surprised at being captured by a person
+so insignificant looking that he stood and stared. Our Cockney, seeing
+his amazement, said: "Yus, yer needn't stare, I'm real, and wot's more,
+I got a good mind ter punch yer under the blinkin' ear fer spoiling me
+rest!"&mdash;<i>F. M. Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Batt. D.C.L.I), 33
+Dunlace Road, Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mespot&mdash;On 99 Years' Lease</h3>
+
+<p>I was in Mesopotamia from 1916 till 1920, and after the Armistice
+was signed there was still considerable trouble with the Arabs.</p>
+
+<p>In the summer of 1919 I, with a party of 23 other R.A.S.C. men, was
+surrounded by the Arabs at an outpost that was like a small fort. We
+had taken up supplies for troops stationed there. There were about 100
+Indian soldiers, and a few British N.C.O.'s in charge.</p>
+
+<p>It was no use "running the gauntlet." We were on a hill and kept the
+Arabs at bay all day, also the next night.</p>
+
+<p>The next day all was quiet again, but in the afternoon an Arab rode
+into the camp on horseback with a message, which he gave to the first
+Tommy he saw. It happened to be one of our fellows, a proper Cockney.
+He read the message&mdash;written in English&mdash;requesting us to surrender.</p>
+
+<p>Our Cockney pal said a few kind words to the Arab, and decided to
+send a message back.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote this on the back of the paper: "Sorry, Mr. Shake. We
+have only just taken the place, and we have got it on 99 years' lease.
+Yours faithfully, Old Bill and Co., Ltd., London."&mdash;<i>W. Thurgood (late
+R.A.S.C., M.T.), 46 Maldon Road, Southend-on-Sea, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Fro Something at Them!"</h3>
+
+<p>There was a certain divisional commander in France who enjoyed
+a popularity that was almost unique. He was quite imperturbable,
+whatever the situation.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, he had an impediment in his speech, and when first one
+met him he was difficult to understand. But heaven help anyone who
+asked him to repeat anything. A light would come into his eye, and he
+would seize hold of his victim by the shoulder-strap and heave and tug
+till it came off.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll understand me," he would say, "when I tell you your shoulder-strap
+is undone!"</p>
+
+<p>The Division he commanded had just put up a wonderful fight just
+south of Arras in the March '18 show, and, having suffered very heavy
+casualties, were taken out of the line and put into a cushy front next door
+to the Portuguese.</p>
+
+<p>The morning after they took over the Germans launched a heavy
+attack on the Portuguese, who withdrew somewhat hurriedly, so that the
+whole flank of the British division was open.</p>
+
+<p>The general was sitting eating his breakfast&mdash;he had been roused at
+six by the bombardment&mdash;when an excited orderly came into the room
+and reported that the Germans had got right in behind the Division
+and were now actually in the garden of the general's château.</p>
+
+<p>The general finished drinking his cup of coffee, the orderly still standing
+to attention, waiting instructions.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you had better 'fro' something at them&mdash;or shoo them away,"
+said the general.&mdash;<i>F. A. P., Cavalry Club, Piccadilly, W.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Missed his Mouth-organ</h3>
+
+<p>During the Battle of the Somme our trench-mortar battery was
+going back after a few days' rest. It was very dark and raining.
+As we neared our destination it appeared that Jerry and our chaps were
+having a real argument.</p>
+
+<p>We were going up a road called "Queen's Hollow." Jerry was enfilading
+us on both sides, and a rare bombing fight was going on at the farther
+end of the Hollow&mdash;seventy or a hundred yards in front of us. We were
+expecting to feel the smack of a bullet any moment, and there was a
+terrible screeching and bursting of shells, with a few "Minnies" thrown
+in. We were in a fine pickle, and I had just about had enough when my
+pal (a lad from "The Smoke") nearly put me on my back by stopping
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like this, Bomb," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What's wrong with you? Get on," I replied, "or we'll all be
+blown sky high."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right," he said, "but I wish I'd brought me mouf orgin. I
+could then have livened fings up a bit."&mdash;<i>"Bombardier" (R.A.), late
+T.M.B., 7th Division.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Water-cooled</h3>
+
+<p>There must be at least six men still alive who remember a certain
+affair at Kemmel. During the latter part of April 1918 our machine
+gunners had been having a bad time, and one old Cockney sergeant
+found himself and his party isolated miles in front of our line.</p>
+
+<p>The cool way in which he gave orders, as he told his men to make
+their way back&mdash;lying down for a bit, then making a run for another
+shelter&mdash;would have been humorous if conditions had not been so
+terrifying.</p>
+
+<p>He himself kept his gun working to protect their retreat, and when
+he saw they had reached a place of safety he picked up his gun and
+rejoined them unhurt.</p>
+
+<p>One of his men, describing the action afterwards, said, "Carried
+his gun three miles&mdash;wouldn't part with it&mdash;and the first thing he did
+when he was able to settle down quietly was to start cleaning the blessed
+thing!"&mdash;<i>H. R. Tanner, "Romsdal," Newton Ferrers, S. Devon.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Top-hatted Piper of Mons</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat from Mons it was a case of "going while the
+going was good" until called upon to make a stand to harass the
+enemy's advance.</p>
+
+<p>After the stand at Le Cateau, bad and blistered feet caused many to
+stop by the wayside. Among these, in passing with my little squad,
+I noticed a piper belonging to a Scottish regiment sitting with his blistered
+feet exposed and his pipes lying beside him. Staff officers were continually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+riding back and urging the parties of stragglers to make an
+effort to push on before they were overtaken.</p>
+
+<p>In the late afternoon of this same day, having myself come up with
+my unit, I was resting on the roadside when I heard the skirl of bagpipes.
+Before long there came into sight, marching with a fair swing,
+too, as motley a throng as one ever saw in the King's uniform. Headed
+by a staff officer were about 150 men of all regiments with that same
+piper, hatless and with one stocking, in front.</p>
+
+<p>Beside him was a Cockney of the Middlesex Regiment, with a silk
+hat on his head, whose cheeks threatened to burst as he churned out
+the strains of "Alexander's Rag-time Band" on the bagpipes. Being
+a bit of a piper himself, he was giving "Jock" a lift and was incidentally
+the means of fetching this little band away from the clutches of the
+enemy.&mdash;<i>"Buster" Brown (late Bedfordshire Regt.), Hertford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Two Heads and a Bullet</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1916 ten of us were going up with rations&mdash;chiefly bread
+and water. In one part of the trench there were no duckboards
+and the vile mud was thigh-deep.</p>
+
+<p>Here we abandoned the trench and stumbled along, tripping over
+barbed wire and falling headlong into shell-holes half-full of icy
+water.</p>
+
+<p>A German sniper was at work. Suddenly a bullet pinged midway
+between the last two of the party.</p>
+
+<p>"Hear that?" said No. 9. "Right behind my neck!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied No. 10, "right in front of my bloomin' nose!"&mdash;<i>C.
+A. Davies (late 23rd R. Fusiliers), 85 Saxton Street, Gillingham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Spoiling the Story</h3>
+
+<p>We were billeted in the upper room of a corner house north of
+Albert, and were listening to "Spoofer's" memories of days
+"dahn Walworf way."</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," he said, "I ses to the gal, 'Two doorsteps an' a bloater.'"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a "coal-box" caught the corner of the house, bringing
+down the angle of the wall and three-parts of the floor on which we
+had squatted.</p>
+
+<p>Except for bruises, none of us was injured, and when the dust subsided
+we saw "Spoofer" looking down at us from a bit of the flooring
+that remained intact.</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," he continued, as though nothing had happened, "as I was
+saying, I'd just called fer the bloater...."</p>
+
+<p>Came another "coal-box," which shook down the remainder of the
+floor and with it "Spoofer."</p>
+
+<p>Struggling to his hands and knees, he said, "Blimey, the blinkin'
+bloater's cold nah."&mdash;<i>F. Lates, 62 St. Ervan's Road, North Kensington.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Afraid of Dogs</h3>
+
+<p>Towards the end of October 1918 I was out on patrol in front of
+Tournai on a dark, windy night. I had a Cockney private with me,
+and we were some distance from our lines when we heard a dog barking.
+All at once, before I could stop him, the Cockney whistled it.</p>
+
+<p>I threw the Cockney down and dropped myself. A German Verey
+light went up&mdash;followed by a hail of machine-gun bullets in our direction.
+As the light spread out, we saw the dog fastened to a German machine-gun!
+We lay very still, and presently, when things had quietened down,
+we slid cautiously backwards until it was safe to get up.</p>
+
+<p>All the Cockney said was, "Crikey, corp, I had the wind up. A
+blinkin' good job that there dawg was chained up. Why? 'Cause 'e
+might 'ave bitten us. I allus was afeard o' dawgs."&mdash;<i>J. Milsun (late
+1/5th Battn., The King's Own 55th Div.), 31 Collingwood Road, Lexden,
+Colchester.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Song of Battle</h3>
+
+<p>At the first Gaza battle we had to advance 1,700 yards across a
+plain in full view of the Turks, who hurled a terrific barrage at us.
+We were in artillery formation, and we marched up until within rifle
+range. With machine guns and artillery the Turks were depleting our
+ranks, so that less than half of us were still marching on at 500 yards
+range.</p>
+
+<p>In my section was the Cockney "funny man" of the company.
+When things were bad, and we were all wondering how long we would
+survive, he began singing lustily a song which someone had sung at our
+last concert party behind the lines, the refrain of which was "I've
+never heard of anybody dying from kissing, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Before he had started on the second line nearly everyone was singing
+with him, and men were killed singing that song. To the remainder
+of us it acted like a tonic.</p>
+
+<p>Good old Jack, when he was wounded later he must have been in
+terrible pain, yet he joked so that at first we would not believe he was
+seriously hit. He shouted, "Where is 'e?&mdash;let me get at 'im."&mdash;<i>J. T.
+Jones (late 54th Division), 37 Whittaker Road, East Ham, E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Stalls at "Richthofen's Circus"</h3>
+
+<p>A New Zealander was piloting an old F.E. 2B (pusher) 'plane
+up and down over the lines, observing for the artillery, when he got
+caught by "Richthofen's Circus."</p>
+
+<p>The petrol tank behind the pilot's seat was set on fire and burning
+oil poured past him into the observer's cockpit ahead and the clothes
+of both men started to sizzle.</p>
+
+<p>They were indeed in a warm situation, their one hope being to dive
+into Zillebeke Lake, which the New Zealander noticed below. By the
+time they splashed into the water machine and men were in flames;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+and, moreover, when they came up the surface surrounding them was
+aflame with the burning oil.</p>
+
+<p>Treading water desperately and ridding themselves of their heavy
+sodden flying coats, they made a last bid for life by swimming under
+water, that flaming water, and at last, half-dead, reached the bank.</p>
+
+<p>There a strong arm gripped the New Zealander by the scruff of the
+neck and he was hauled to safety, dimly aware of a hoarse voice complaining
+bitterly, "Ours is the best hid battery in this sector, the only
+unspotted battery. You <i>would</i> choose just 'ere to land, wouldn't yer,
+and give the bloomin' show away?"</p>
+
+<p>Our Cockney battery sergeant-major had, no doubt, never heard
+of Hobson or his choice.&mdash;<i>E. H. Orton, 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden
+City, Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Butter-Fingers!"</h3>
+
+<p>A Cockney infantryman of the 47th Division was on the fire-step
+on the night preceding the attack at Loos. He was huddled up
+in a ground-sheet trying to keep cheerful in the drizzle.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a British 12-in. shell passed over him, and as he heard its
+slow rumble he muttered, "Catch that one, you blighters."</p>
+
+<p>Just then it burst, and with a chuckle he added, "Oh, butter-fingers,
+yer dropped it!"&mdash;<i>Henry J. Tuck (late Lt., R.G.A.).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Getting into Hot Water</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the front line, and one evening a Battersea lad and
+myself were ordered to go and fetch tea for the company from
+the cook-house, which was in Bluff Trench. It was about a mile from
+the line down a "beautiful" duckboard track.</p>
+
+<p>With the boiling tea strapped to our backs
+in big containers, both of which leaked at the
+nozzles, we started for the line. Then Jerry
+started sniping at us. There came from the
+line a sergeant, who shouted, "Why don't
+you lads duck?" "That's right," replied
+my chum. "D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded
+to death?"&mdash;<i>H. G. Harrap (23rd London
+Regiment), 25 Renfrew Road, S.E.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i096.jpg" width="600" height="487" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded ter death?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="LULL" id="LULL">2. LULL</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>Rate of Exchange&mdash;on Berlin</h3>
+
+<p>With four Cockney comrades of the Rifle Brigade, during 1915 at
+Fleurbaix, I was indulging in a <i>quiet</i> game of nap in the front
+line.</p>
+
+<p>One man dropped out, "broke to the wide." Being an enthusiastic
+card player, he offered various articles for sale, but could find no buyers.
+At last he offered to <i>find</i> a Jerry prisoner and sell him for a franc.</p>
+
+<p>He was absent for some time, but eventually turned up with his
+hostage, and, the agreement being duly honoured, he recommenced his
+game with his fresh capital.</p>
+
+<p>All the players came through alive, their names being J. Cullison,
+F. Bones, A. White, W. Deer (the first-named playing leading part),
+and myself.&mdash;<i>F. J. Chapman (late 11th Batt. Rifle Brigade), 110 Beckton
+Road, Victoria Docks, E.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Hen Coup</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat from Mons strict orders were issued against
+looting. One day an officer, coming round a corner, discovered
+a stalwart Cockney Tommy in the act of wringing the neck of an inoffensive-looking
+chicken. The moment the Tommy caught sight of his
+officer he was heard to murmur to the chicken, "Would yer, yer brute!"
+Quite obviously, therefore, the deed had been done in self-defence.&mdash;<i>The
+Rev. T. K. Lowdell, Church of St. Augustine, Lillie Road, Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A "Baa-Lamb" in the Trenches</h3>
+
+<p>The "dug-out" was really a hole scraped in the side of a trench
+leading up to the front line and some 50 yards from it. It was
+October '16 on the Somme, after the weather had broken. The trench
+was about two feet deep in liquid mud&mdash;a delightful thoroughfare for
+runners and other unfortunate ones who had to use it.</p>
+
+<p>The officer in the dug-out heard the <i>splosh&mdash;splosh&mdash;splosh</i> ...
+of a single passenger coming up the trench. As the splosher drew abreast
+the dug-out the officer heard him declaiming to himself: "Baa! baa!
+I'm a blinkin' lamb lorst in the ruddy wilderness. Baa! baa!..."</p>
+
+<p>And when the bleating died away the <i>splosh&mdash;splosh&mdash;splosh</i> ...
+grew fainter too, as the "lamb" was lost in the night.&mdash;<i>L. W. Martinnant,
+64 Thornsbeach Road, Catford, S.E.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Coloured</h3>
+
+<p>When serving with the Artists' Rifles in France we went into the
+line to relieve the "Nelsons" of the 63rd (Royal Naval) Division.</p>
+
+<p>As I was passing one of their men, a regular "Ole Bill," who was
+seated on the fire-step, I heard him say, "Artists' Rifles, eh; I wonder
+if any of you chaps would <i>paint</i> me a plate of 'am and eggs!"&mdash;<i>R. C.
+Toogood, 43 Richmond Park Avenue, Bournemouth.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why the Fat Man Laughed</h3>
+
+<p>During the winter of 1914-15 the trenches were just like canals
+of sloppy mud, and dug-outs were always falling in. To repair
+the dug-outs pit-props were used, but they often had to be carried great
+distances up communication trenches, and were very difficult to handle.
+The most popular way to carry a prop was to rest one end on the left
+shoulder of one man and the other end on the right shoulder of the man
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion the leading man was short and fat, and the rear man
+was tall and thin. Suddenly the front man slipped and the prop fell
+down in the mud and splashed the thin man from head to foot. To add
+to his discomfort the little fat man gave a hearty laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't see anything to larf at, mate," said the mud-splashed hero,
+looking down at himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm larfing," said the little fat Cockney, "'cos I've just remembered
+that I tipped the recruiting sergeant a bloomin' tanner to put me name
+down fust on his list so as I'd get out here quick."&mdash;<i>A. L. Churchill
+(late Sergt., Worcs. Regt.), 6 Long Lane, Blackheath, Staffs.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Met Shackleton!</h3>
+
+<p>The troops in North Russia, in the winter of 1918-19, were equipped
+with certain additional articles of clothing designed on the same
+principles as those used on Antarctic expeditions. Among these were
+what were known as "Shackleton boots," large canvas boots with thick
+leather soles. These boots were not at all suitable for walking on hard
+snow, being very clumsy, and they were very unpopular with everyone.</p>
+
+<p>The late Sir Ernest Shackleton was sent out by the War Office to give
+advice on matters of clothing, equipment, and so on. When he arrived at
+Archangel he went up to a sentry whose beat was in front of a warehouse
+about three steps up from the road, and said to him, "Well, my man,
+what do you think of the Shackleton boot?"</p>
+
+<p>To this the sentry replied: "If I could only meet the perishing blighter
+wot invented them I'd very soon show&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Before he could complete the sentence his feet, clad in the ungainly
+boots, slipped on the frozen snow, and slithering down the steps on his
+back, he shot into Sir Ernest and the two of them completed the discussion
+on Shackleton boots rolling over in the snow!&mdash;<i>K. D., Elham,
+near Canterbury.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Domestic Scene: Scene, Béthune</h3>
+
+<p>Near the front line at Béthune in I917 was a farm which had been
+evacuated by the tenants, but there were still some cattle and other
+things on it. We were, of course, forbidden to touch them.</p>
+
+<p>One day we missed one of our fellows, a Cockney, for about two hours,
+and guessed he was on the "scrounge" somewhere or other.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i099.jpg" width="600" height="466" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... only taking the kid and the dawg for a bit of a blow."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Eventually he was seen coming down the road pushing an old-fashioned
+pram loaded with cabbages, and round his waist there was a length of
+rope, to the other end of which was tied an old cow.</p>
+
+<p>You can imagine what a comical sight it was, but the climax came when
+he was challenged by the corporal, "Where the devil have you been?"
+"Me?" he replied innocently. "I only bin takin' the kid and the
+dawg for a bit of a blow."&mdash;<i>A. Rush (late 4th Batt. R. Fus.), 27 Milton
+Road, Wimbledon.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Getting Their Bearings</h3>
+
+<p>It was on the Loos front. One night a party of us were told off for
+reconnoitring. On turning back about six of us, with our young
+officer, missed our way and, after creeping about for some 15 minutes, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+message came down, "Keep very quiet, we are nearly in the German
+lines."</p>
+
+<p>I passed on the message to the chap behind me, who answered in
+anything but a whisper, "Thank 'eaven we know where we are at last."&mdash;<i>H.
+Hutton (late 16th Lancers, attached Engineers), Marlborough Road,
+Upper Holloway.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>High Tea</h3>
+
+<p>During the winter of 1917-18 I was serving with my battery of
+Field Artillery in Italy. We had posted to us a draft of drivers
+just out from home, and one of them, seeing an observation balloon for
+the first time, asked an old driver what it was.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that," replied the old hand, who hailed from Hackney&mdash;"that
+is the Air Force canteen!"&mdash;<i>M. H. Cooke (late "B" Battery, 72nd
+Brigade, R.F.A.), Regency Street, Westminster.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lots in a Name</h3>
+
+<p>Salonika, mid-autumn, and torrents of rain. The battalion,
+changing over to another front, had trekked all through the night.
+An hour before dawn a halt was called to bivouac on the reverse slope
+of a hill until the journey could be completed in the darkness of the
+following night.</p>
+
+<p>Orderlies from each platoon were collecting blankets from their
+company pack mules. Last of them all was a diminutive Cockney, who
+staggered off in the darkness with his load perched on his head. Slowly
+and laboriously, slipping backwards at almost every step, he stumbled
+and slithered up hill in the ankle-deep mud. Presently he paused for
+breath, and took advantage of the opportunity to relieve his feelings
+in these well-chosen words: "All I can say is, the bloke as christened
+this 'ere perishin' place Greece was about blinking well right."&mdash;<i>P. H. T.
+(26th Division).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Gunga Din the Second</h3>
+
+<p>After the battle of Shaikh Sa'Ad in Mesopotamia in January
+1916 more than 300 wounded were being transported down the
+Tigris to Basra in a steamer and on open barges lashed on either side of it.
+Many suffered from dysentery as well as wounds&mdash;and it was raining.</p>
+
+<p>There appeared to be only one Indian bhisti (water-carrier), an old
+man over 60 years of age, to attend to all. He was nearly demented in
+trying to serve everyone at once. When my severely wounded neighbour&mdash;from
+Camberwell, he said&mdash;saw the bhisti, his welcome made us smile
+through our miseries.</p>
+
+<p>"Coo! If it ain't old Gunga Din! Wherever 'ave yer bin, me old
+brown son? Does yer muvver know yer aht?"&mdash;<i>A. S. Edwardes (late
+C.S.M., 1st Seaforth Highlanders), West Gate, Royal Hospital, Chelsea,
+S.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Fag fer an 'Orse</h3>
+
+<p>Late one afternoon towards the end of 1917, on the Cambrai sector,
+enemy counter-attacks had caused confusion behind our lines, and
+as I was walking along a road I met a disconsolate-looking little Cockney
+infantryman leading a large-size horse. He stopped me and said,
+"Give us a fag, mate, and I'll give yer an 'orse."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i101.jpg" width="600" height="510" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Give us a fag and I'll give yer an 'orse."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I gathered that he had found the horse going spare and was taking it
+along with him for company's sake.&mdash;<i>H. J. Batt (late Royal Fusiliers),
+21 Whitehall Park Road, W.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Put to Graze</h3>
+
+<p>It was at the siege of Kut, when the 13th ("Iron") Division was trying
+to relieve that gallant but hard-pressed body of men under General
+Townshend. Rations had been very low for days, and the battery
+had been digging gun-pits in several positions, till at last we had a change
+of position and "dug in" to stay a bit. What with bad water, digging in,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+and hardly any food, the men were getting fed up generally. An order
+came out to the effect that "A certain bunchy grass (detailed explanation)
+if picked and boiled would make a very nourishing meal." One hefty
+Cockney, "Dusty" Miller, caused a laugh when he vented his feelings
+with "'Struth, and nah we got ter be blinking sheep. Baa-Baa!"&mdash;<i>E.
+J. Bates (late R.F.A.), 37 Ulverscroft Road, E. Dulwich.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Smith's Feather Pillow</h3>
+
+<p>The boys had "rescued" a few hens from a deserted farm. The
+morning was windy and feathers were scattered in the mud.</p>
+
+<p>Picquet officer (appearing from a corner of the trench): "What's
+the meaning of all these feathers, Brown?"</p>
+
+<p>Brown: "Why, sir, Smiff wrote 'ome sayin' 'e missed 'is 'ome comforts,
+an' 'is ma sent 'im a fevver piller; an' 'e's so mad at our kiddin'
+that 'e's in that dug-out tearin' it to bits."&mdash;<i>John W. Martin, 16 Eccles
+Road, Lavender Hill, S.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bombs and Arithmetic</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the trenches in front of Armentières in the late summer
+of 1916. It was a fine, quiet day, with "nothing doing." I was
+convinced that a working party was busy in a section of the German
+trenches right opposite.</p>
+
+<p>Just then "O. C. Stokes" came along with his crew and their little
+trench gun. I told him of my "target," and suggested that he should
+try a shot with his Stokes mortar. Glad of something definite to do, he
+willingly complied.</p>
+
+<p>The Stokes gun was set down on the floor of the trench just behind
+my back, as I stood on the fire-step to observe the shoot.</p>
+
+<p>I gave the range. The gun was loaded. There was a faint pop, a
+slight hiss&mdash;then silence. Was the bomb going to burst in the gun and
+blow us all to bits? I glanced round apprehensively. A perfectly calm
+Cockney voice from one of the crew reassured me:</p>
+
+<p>"It's orl right, sir! If it don't go off while yer counts five&mdash;<i>you'll
+know it's a dud!</i>"&mdash;<i>Capt. T. W. C. Curd (late 20th Northumberland
+Fusiliers), 72 Victoria Street, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Help from Hindenburg</h3>
+
+<p>I was serving with the M.G.C. at Ecoust. Two men of the Middlesex
+Regiment had been busy for a week digging a sump hole in the exposed
+hollow in front of the village and had excavated to a depth of
+about eight feet. A bombardment which had continued all night became
+so severe about noon of the next day that orders were given for all to
+take what cover was available. It was noticed that the two men were
+still calmly at work in the hole, and I was sent to warn them to take
+shelter. They climbed out, and as we ran over the hundred yards which
+separated us from the trench a high explosive shell landed right in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+hole we had just left, converting it into a huge crater. One of the men
+turned to me and said, "Lumme, mate, if old Hindenburg ain't been and
+gone and finished the blooming job for us!"&mdash;<i>J. S. F., Barnet, Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Raised his Voice&mdash;And the Dust</h3>
+
+<p>In the early part of 1917, while the Germans were falling back to the
+Hindenburg line on the Somme, trench warfare was replaced by
+advanced outposts for the time being. Rations were taken up to the
+company headquarters on mules.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i103.jpg" width="600" height="535" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"S'sh. For 'eaven's sake be quiet."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Another C.Q.M.S. and I were going up with mules one night and lost
+our way. We wandered on until a voice from a shell-hole challenged us.
+<i>We had passed the company headquarters and landed among the advanced
+outposts.</i></p>
+
+<p>The chap implored us to be quiet, and just as we turned back one of the
+mules chose to give the Germans a sample of his vocal abilities.</p>
+
+<p>The outpost fellow told us what he thought of us. The transport
+chap leading the mule pulled and tugged, using kind, gentle words as
+drivers do.</p>
+
+<p>And in the midst of it all my C.Q.M.S. friend walked up to the mule,
+holding his hands up, and whispered: "S-sh! For 'eaven's sake be
+quiet."&mdash;<i>F. W. Piper (ex-Sherwood Foresters), 30 The Crescent, Watford,
+Herts.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mademoiselle from&mdash;Palestine</h3>
+
+<p>After the fall of Gaza our battalion, on occupying a Jewish colony
+in the coastal sector which had just been evacuated by the Turks,
+received a great ovation from the overjoyed inhabitants.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 569px;">
+<img src="images/i104.jpg" width="569" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Mademoiselle from Ah-my-Tears."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of our lads, born well within hearing of Bow Bells, was effusively
+greeted by a Hebrew lady of uncertain age, who warmly embraced him
+and kissed him on each cheek.</p>
+
+<p>Freeing himself, and gesticulating in the approved manner, he turned
+to us and said: "Strike me pink! Mademoiselle from Ah-my-tears."&mdash;<i>Edward
+Powell, 80 Cavendish Road, Kentish Town, N.W.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Ally Toot Sweet"</h3>
+
+<p>At the latter end of September 1914 the 5th Division was moving
+from the Aisne to La Bassée and a halt was made in the region of
+Crépy-en-Valois, where a large enemy shell was found (dud).</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i105.jpg" width="600" height="505" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Ally toot sweet. If this shell goes orf...."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A Cockney private was posted to keep souvenir hunters from tampering
+with it. When he received his dinner he sat straddle-legged on the shell,
+admired by a few French children, whom he proceeded to address as
+follows: "Ally! Toot sweet, or you'll get blown to 'ell if this blinkin'
+shell goes orf."&mdash;<i>E. P. Ferguson, "Brecon," Fellows Road, S. Farnborough,
+Hants.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Luckier than the Prince</h3>
+
+<p>In the autumn of 1916, while attending to the loading of ammunition
+at Minden Post, a driver suddenly exclaimed, "'Struth, Quarter;
+who's the boy officer with all the ribbons up?"</p>
+
+<p>Glancing up, I recognised the Prince of Wales, quite unattended, pushing
+a bicycle through the mud.</p>
+
+<p>When I told the driver who the officer really was, the reply came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+quickly: "Blimey, I'm better off than he is; they <i>have</i> given me a
+horse to ride."&mdash;<i>H. J. Adams (ex.&mdash;B.Q.M.S., R.F.A.), Highclare, Station
+Road, Hayes, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Jerry he <i>Couldn't</i> Kill</h3>
+
+<p>During a patrol in No Man's Land at Flesquières we were between a
+German patrol and their front line, but eventually we were able to
+get back. I went to our Lewis gun post and told them Jerry had a
+patrol out. I was told: "One German came dahn 'ere last night&mdash;full
+marchin' order." "Didn't you ask him in?" I said. "No. Told him
+to get out of it. You can't put a Lewis gun on one man going on leave,"
+was the reply.&mdash;<i>C. G. Welch, 109 Sayer Street, S.E.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Q" for Quinine</h3>
+
+<p>In the autumn of 1917, on the Salonika front, we were very often
+short of bread, sugar, etc., the reason, we were told by the Quartermaster-Sergeant,
+being that the boats were continually sunk.</p>
+
+<p>At this time the "quinine parade" was strictly enforced, because of
+malaria, which was very prevalent.</p>
+
+<p>One day we were lined up for our daily dose, which was a very strong
+and unpleasant one, when one of our drivers, a bit of a wag, was heard to
+say to the M.O.: "Blimey! the bread boat goes dahn, the beef boat
+goes dahn, the rum and sugar boat goes dahn, but the perishin'
+quinine boat always gets 'ere."&mdash;<i>R. Ore (100 Brigade, R.F.A.), 40
+Lansdowne Road, Tottenham, N.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Blinkin' Descendant of Nebuchadnezzar</h3>
+
+<p>While stationed at Pozières in 1917 I was mate to our Cockney
+cook, who, according to Army standards, was something of an
+expert in the culinary art.</p>
+
+<p>One day a brass hat from H.Q., who was visiting the unit, entered the
+mess to inquire about the food served to the troops.</p>
+
+<p>"They 'as stew, roast, or boiled, wiv spuds and pudden to follow,"
+said cook, bursting with pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you give them any vegetables?" asked the officer.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, there ain't none issued in the rations."</p>
+
+<p>"No vegetables! What do you mean?&mdash;there are tons growing about
+here waiting to be picked. Look at all those dandelions&mdash;they make
+splendid greens. See that some are put in the stew to-morrow." With
+which illuminating information he retired.</p>
+
+<p>Followed a few moments' dead silence. Then the Cockney recovered
+from the shock.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme, mate, what did 'e say? Dandelions? 'E must be a
+blinkin' descendant of Nebuchadnezzar!"&mdash;<i>R. J. Tiney (late Sapper,
+R.E. Signals, 10th Corps), 327 Green Lanes, Finsbury Park, N.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Well-Cut Tailoring</h3>
+
+<p>Back from a spell behind Ypres in 1915, a few of us decided to
+scrounge round for a hair-cut. We found a shop which we thought
+was a barber's, but it turned out to be a tailor's. We found out afterwards!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 447px;">
+<img src="images/i107.jpg" width="447" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"My old girl will swear I bin in fer a stretch...."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Still, the old Frenchman made a good job of it&mdash;just as though someone
+had shaved our heads. My Cockney pal, when he discovered the
+truth, exclaimed: "Strike, if I go 'ome like this my old girl will swear
+I bin in fer a stretch."&mdash;<i>F. G. Webb (late Corpl., Middlesex Regiment),
+38 Andover Road, Twickenham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Evacuating "Darby and Joan"</h3>
+
+<p>Things were going badly with the town of Albert, and all day the
+inhabitants had been streaming from the town. On horse, on foot,
+and in all manner of conveyances they hastened onwards....</p>
+
+<p>Towards evening, when the bombardment was at its height and the
+roads were being plastered with shells, an old man tottered into sight
+pulling a crazy four-wheeled cart in which, perched amidst a pile of
+household goods, sat a tiny, withered lady of considerable age. As the
+couple reached the point where I was standing, the old man's strength
+gave out and he collapsed between the shafts.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed all up with them, as the guns were already registering on the
+only exit from the town when, thundering round a bend in the road, came
+a transport limber with driver and spare man. On seeing the plight of
+the old people, the driver pulled up, dismounted and, together with his
+partner, surveyed the situation.</p>
+
+<p>"What are we going to do with Darby and Joan?" asked the driver.
+"We can't get them and all their clobber in the limber and, if I know
+'em, they won't be parted from their belongings."</p>
+
+<p>"'Ook 'em on the back," replied the spare man. Sure enough, the
+old man was lifted into the limber and the old lady's four-wheeler tied
+on the back.</p>
+
+<p>Off they went at the gallop, the old lady's conveyance dragging like a
+canoe in the wake of the <i>Mauretania</i>. The heroic Cockney driver, forcing
+his team through the din and debris of the bombardment, was now
+oblivious to the wails of distress; his mind was back on his duty; he
+had given the old people a chance of living a little longer&mdash;that was all
+he could do: and so he turned a deaf ear to the squeals and lamentations
+that each fresh jolt and swerve wrung from the terrified antiquity he
+was towing.</p>
+
+<p>Shells dropped all around them on their career through the town until
+it seemed that they must "go under." However, they appeared again
+and again, after each cloud cleared, and in the end I saw the little cavalcade
+out of the town and danger.&mdash;<i>N. E. Crawshaw (late 15th London
+Regt.), 4 Mapleton Road, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Why ain't the Band Playing?"</h3>
+
+<p>I served with the 11th London Regiment in Palestine. One day
+our officer paid us a visit at dinner-time to find out if there were any
+complaints. While we were endeavouring to find the meat at the bottom
+of the spoilt water we heard a voice say: "Any complaints?" One
+of the platoon, not seeing the officer, thought the remark was a joke, so
+he replied, "Yes, why ain't the band playing?" On realising it was
+an official request he immediately corrected himself and said: "Sorry,
+sir, no complaints."</p>
+
+<p>I rather think the officer enjoyed the remark.&mdash;<i>F. G. Palmer, 29
+Dumbarton Road, Brixton, S.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Deduction</h3>
+
+<p>Our battalion, fresh from home, all nicely groomed and with new
+kit, stepped out whistling "Tipperary." We were on the road to
+Loos. Presently towards us came a pathetic procession of wounded men
+struggling back, some using their rifles as crutches.</p>
+
+<p>Our whistling had ceased; some faces had paled. Not a word was
+spoken for quite a while, until my Cockney pal broke the silence, remarking,
+"Lumme, I reckon there's been a bit of a row somewhere."&mdash;<i>Charles
+Phillips (late Middlesex Regt.), 108 Grosvenor Road, Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Peter in the Pool</h3>
+
+<p>We had advanced beyond the German first line in the big push of
+'18. The rain was heavy, the mud was deep; we had not quite
+dug in beyond "shallow," and rations had not come up&mdash;altogether a
+most dismal prospect.</p>
+
+<p>Quite near to us was a small pool of water which we all attempted to
+avoid when passing to and fro. Suddenly there was a yell and much
+cursing&mdash;the Cockney of the company, complete with his equipment,
+had fallen into the pool.</p>
+
+<p>After recovering dry ground he gazed at the pool in disgust and said,
+"Fancy a fing like that trying to drahn a bloke wiv a name like Peter."&mdash;<i>J.
+Carlton, Bayswater Court, St. Stephen's Court, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Where "Movie" Shows Cost Soap</h3>
+
+<p>We landed in North Russia in June 1918. We were piloted in on
+the <i>City of Marseilles</i> to a jetty. We did not know the name of
+the place. On the jetty we saw from the boat a British marine on
+sentry duty. We shouted down to him, "Where are we, mate?" He
+answered "Murmansk."</p>
+
+<p>We asked, "What sort of place," and he shouted, "Lumme, you've
+come to a blighted 'ole 'ere. They 'ave one picture palace and the price
+of admission is a bar of soap."&mdash;<i>M. C. Oliver (late Corporal R.A.F.),
+99, Lealand Road, Stamford Hill, N.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sherlock Holmes in the Desert</h3>
+
+<p>In the autumn of 1917, when training for the attack on Beersheba,
+in Palestine, we were encamped in bivouacs in the desert.</p>
+
+<p>The chief meal of the day was served in the cool of the evening and
+more often than not consisted of bully beef stew.</p>
+
+<p>One evening the Orderly Officer approached the dixie, looked into it,
+and seeing it half full of the usual concoction, remarked, "H'm, stew
+this evening."</p>
+
+<p>At once there came a voice, that of a Cockney tailor, from the nearest
+bivouac&mdash;"My dear Watson!"&mdash;<i>R. S. H. (late 16th County of London
+Q.W.R.), Purley, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Army "Loops the Loop"</h3>
+
+<p>The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was very bad, and if you went
+too close to the edge you were likely to go over the precipice;
+indeed, many lives were lost in this way.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i110.jpg" width="600" height="488" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I'll bet I'm the first bloke to loop the loop in a lorry."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One day a lorry toppled over and fell at least a hundred feet. When
+the rescuers got down to it, expecting to find a mangled corpse, they were
+surprised to hear a well-known Cockney voice from under the debris,
+exclaiming: "Blimey, I'll bet I'm the first bloke in the whole Army
+wot's looped the loop in a motor-lorry."&mdash;<i>Sidney H. Rothschild, York
+Buildings, Adelphi, W.C.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Repartee on the Ridge</h3>
+
+<p>While on the Vimy Ridge sector I was going one dark night across
+the valley towards the front line when I lost my way among the
+mud and shell-holes. Hearing voices, I shouted an inquiry as to the
+whereabouts of Gabriel Trench. Back came the reply: "Lummie,
+mate, I ain't the blinkin' harbourmaster!"&mdash;<i>T. Gillespie (late Mining
+Company, R.E.), London.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A New Kind of "Missing"</h3>
+
+<p>A battalion of the 47th London Division was making its first
+journey to the front line at Givenchy.</p>
+
+<p>As we were proceeding from Béthune by the La Bassée Canal we passed
+another crowd of the same Division who had just been relieved. We were
+naturally anxious to know what it was like "up there," and the following
+conversation took place in passing:</p>
+
+<p>"What's it like, mate?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right."</p>
+
+<p>"Had any casualties?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mate, two wounded, and a bloke lost 'is 'at."&mdash;<i>F. G. Nawton,
+(ex-Major 15th Batt. M.G.C., 2 Kenton Park Road, Kenton, Middlesex).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>And it Started with a Hen Raid!</h3>
+
+<p>While we were behind the line in March 1918 some chickens
+were stolen from the next village and traced to our billet by the
+feathers.</p>
+
+<p>As the culprits could not be found our O.C. punished the whole company
+by stopping our leave for six months.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later we "moved up" just as Jerry broke through further
+south. The orderly sergeant one night read out orders, which finished
+up with Sir Douglas Haig's famous dispatch ending with the words:
+"All leave is now stopped throughout the Army till further orders."
+Thereupon a tousled head emerged from a blanket on the floor with this
+remark: "Blimey, they mean to find out who pinched those blinking
+chickens."&mdash;<i>J. Slack, 157 Engadine Street, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I'm a Water-Lily"</h3>
+
+<p>This incident took place on the Neuve Chapelle front early in 1916.</p>
+
+<p>Our platoon was known as the "Divisional Drainers," for it was
+our job to keep the trenches as free from water as possible.</p>
+
+<p>One day, while we were working in a very exposed drain about three
+feet deep, Jerry was unusually active with his whizz-bangs, and we were
+repeatedly shelled off the job. During one of our periodical "dives"
+for cover, one of the boys (a native of Canning Town) happened to be
+"left at the post," and instead of gaining a dry shelter was forced to
+fling himself in the bottom of the drain, which had over two feet of
+weedy water in it.</p>
+
+<p>Just as he reappeared, with weeds and things clinging to his head and
+shoulders, an officer came to see if we were all safe.</p>
+
+<p>On seeing our weed-covered chum he stopped and said, "What's the
+matter, Johnson? Got the wind up?"</p>
+
+<p>Johnson, quick as lightning, replied, "No, sir; camouflage. I'm
+a water-lily."&mdash;<i>F. Falcuss (late 19th Batt. N.F.), 51, Croydon Grove,
+West Croydon.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Knowin' the Language</h3>
+
+<p>A team of mules in November 1916 was taking a double limber up
+to the line in pitch darkness on the Béthune-La Bassée road. A
+heavy strafe was on, and the road was heavily shelled at intervals from
+Beavry onwards.</p>
+
+<p>On the limber was a newly-joined padre huddled up, on his way to
+join advanced battalion headquarters. A shell burst 60 yards ahead,
+and the mules reared; some lay down, kicked over the traces, and the
+wheel pair managed to get their legs over the centre pole of the limber.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i112.jpg" width="600" height="436" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Would you mind trekkin' off up the road?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>There was chaos for a few minutes. Then the padre asked the wheel
+driver in a very small voice, "My man, can I do anything to assist you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Assist us," was the reply. "Yes, you can. Would you mind, sir,
+trekkin' off up the road, so as we can use language these blighters understand?"&mdash;<i>L.
+C. Hoffenden (late 483rd Field Co. R.E.), "Waltonhurst,"
+16 Elmgate Gardens, Edgware.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Churning in the Skies</h3>
+
+<p>After returning from a night's "egg-laying" on Jerry's transport
+lines and dumps, my brother "intrepid airman" and I decided on
+tea and toast. To melt a tin of ration butter which was of the consistency
+of glue we placed it close to the still hot engine of the plane. Unknown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+to us, owing to the slant of the machine, the tin slipped backwards and
+spilled a goodly proportion of its melted contents over the propeller at
+the back. (Our planes were of the "pusher" type.)</p>
+
+<p>Next day as we strolled into the hangar to look the bus over we found
+our Cockney mechanic, hands on hips, staring at the butter-splattered
+propeller.</p>
+
+<p>"Sufferin' smoke, sir," he said to me, with a twinkle, "wherever was
+you flyin' lars' night&mdash;<i>through the milky way</i>?"&mdash;<i>Ralph
+Plummer (late 102 Squadron R.A.F. Night-Bombers), Granville House,
+Arundel Street, Strand.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Larnin' the Mule</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/i113.jpg" width="400" height="415" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Now p'raps you'll know!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>On the Somme I saw a Cockney driver having trouble with an obstinate
+mule. At last he got down from his limber and, with a rather vicious
+tug at the near-side rein said, "That's your left," and, tugging the
+off rein, "that's your right&mdash;now p'raps you'll know!"&mdash;<i>E.
+B. (late Gunner, R.G.A.), Holloway Road, N.7.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Dr. Livingstone, I Presoom"</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1915 one of our Q.M. Sergeants was sent to Cairo to collect
+a gang of native labourers for work in the brigade lines. Whilst
+at breakfast one morning we saw him return from the train at Ismailia,
+leading a long column of fellaheen (with their wives and children) all
+loaded with huge bundles, boxes, cooking pots, etc., on their heads.</p>
+
+<p>The Q.M.S., who was wearing a big white "solar topi" of the mushroom
+type instead of his regulation military helmet, was greeted outside
+our hut by the R.S.M., and as they solemnly shook hands a Cockney
+voice behind me murmured: "Doctor Livingstone, I presoom?" The
+picture was complete!&mdash;<i>Yeo Blake (1st County of London Yeomanry),
+Brighton.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Veteran Scored</h3>
+
+<p>One morning, while a famous general was travelling around the
+Divisional Headquarters, his eagle eye spotted an old war hero, a
+Londoner, whose fighting days were over, and who now belonged to the
+Labour Corps, busy on road repairs. The fact was also noticed that
+although within the gas danger-zone the old veteran had broken standing
+orders by not working with his gas mask in position.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly the Corps Commander stopped his car and, getting out,
+started off in his own familiar way as follows:</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: Good morning, my man; do you know who is speaking to
+you?</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: No, sir!</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: I am your Corps Commander, Sir &mdash;&mdash;, etc.</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: I'm pleased to have this opportunity of talking to one of my
+men.</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: I see you are putting your back into your work.</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: I also notice that you have evidently left your gas mask behind.</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: Now supposing, my man, a heavy gas cloud was now coming
+down this road towards you. What would you do?</p>
+
+<p>O. V. (after a few moments' pause): Nothing, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: What! Why not, my good man?</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Because the wind is the wrong way, sir.</p>
+
+<p>Exit C. C.&mdash;<i>T. J. Gough, Oxford House, 13 Dorset Square, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Old Moore Was Right</h3>
+
+<p>One of my drivers, a Cockney, called one of his horses Old Moore&mdash;"'cos
+'e knows every blinkin' fing like <i>Old Moore's Almanac</i>."</p>
+
+<p>One evening, as we were going into the line, we were halted by a staff
+officer and warned of gas. Orders were given at once to wear gas helmets.
+(A nose-bag gas-mask had just been issued for horses.)</p>
+
+<p>After a while I made my way to the rear of the column to see how
+things were. I was puffing and gasping for breath, when a cheery voice
+called out, "Stick it, sargint."</p>
+
+<p>Wondering how any man could be so cheery in such circumstances, I
+lifted my gas helmet, and lo! there sat my Cockney driver, with his
+horses' masks slung over his arm and his own on top of his head like a
+cap-comforter.</p>
+
+<p>"Why aren't you wearing your gas helmet?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>He leaned over the saddle and replied, in a confidential whisper,
+"Old Moore chucked his orf, so there ain't no blinkin' gas abaht&mdash;<i>'e</i>
+knows."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>We finished the rest of that journey in comfort. Old Moore had prophesied
+correctly.&mdash;<i>S. Harvey (late R.F.A.), 28 Belmont Park Road,
+Leyton, E.10</i>.</p>
+
+
+<h3>He Wouldn't Insult the Mule</h3>
+
+<p>One day, while our Field Ambulance was on the Dorian front,
+Salonika, our new colonel and the regimental sergeant-major were
+visiting the transport lines. They came across a Cockney assiduously
+grooming a pair of mules&mdash;rogues, both of them.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i115.jpg" width="600" height="510" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... because I didn't want to hurt his feelings."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Said the R.S.M.: "Well, Brown, what are the names of your mules?"</p>
+
+<p>Brown: "Well, that one is Ananias, because his looks are all lies.
+This one is Satan, but I nearly called him something else. It was a
+toss-up."</p>
+
+<p>With a smile at the C.O., the sergeant-major remarked: "I would
+like to know what the other name was. Tell the colonel, what was it?"</p>
+
+<p>Brown: "Well, I was going to call him 'Sergeant-Major,' but I
+didn't want to hurt his feelings."&mdash;<i>"Commo" (ex-Sergeant, R.A.M.C.),
+London, N.1</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Don't Touch 'em, Sonny!"</h3>
+
+<p>We had just come back from Passchendaele, that land of two options&mdash;you
+could walk on the duck boards and get blown off or you
+could step off them yourself and get drowned in the shell-holes.</p>
+
+<p>A draft from home had made us up to strength, and when Fritz treated
+us to an air raid about eight miles behind the line I am afraid he was
+almost ignored. Anyway, our Cockney sergeant was voicing the opinion
+that it wasn't a bad war when up rushed one recruit holding the chin
+strap of his tin hat and panting, "Aero&mdash;aero&mdash;aeroplanes." The
+sergeant looked at him for a second and said, "All right, sonny, don't
+touch 'em."</p>
+
+<p>A flush came to the youngster's face, and he walked away&mdash;a soldier.&mdash;<i>R.
+C. Ida, D.C.M. (late 2nd Royal Berks), 39 Hoylake Road, East Acton,
+W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Ze English&mdash;Zey are all Mad!"</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1915 an Anti-Aircraft Brigade landed at Dunkirk. Their
+guns were mounted in armoured cars, the drivers for which were
+largely recruited from London busmen.</p>
+
+<p>By arrangement with the French staff it was decided that the password
+to enable the drivers to pass the French lines should be the French
+word <i>aviation</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The men were paraded and made to repeat this word, parrot fashion,
+with orders to be careful to use it, as it was said that French sentries
+had a nasty habit of shooting first and making any inquiries afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>About a month later I asked my lorry driver how he got on with the
+word. "Quite easy, sir," said he. "I leans aht over the dash and
+yells aht 'ave a ration,' and the Frenchies all larfs and lets me by."</p>
+
+<p>A bit worried about this I interviewed the French Staff Officer and
+asked him if the men were giving the word satisfactorily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," he said, "zose men of yours, zey are comique. Your man, he
+says somezing about his dinner, and ze ozzers zey say 'Ullo, Charlie
+Chaplin,' and 'Wotcher, froggy'&mdash;all sorts of pass-words."</p>
+
+<p>I apologised profusely. "I will get fresh orders issued," I said, "to
+ensure that the men say the correct word."</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied the French officer, "it ees no use. We know your
+men now. Ze English will never alter&mdash;<i>zey are all mad</i>."&mdash;<i>G. H. Littleton
+(Lieut.-Col.), 10 Russell Square Mansions, Southampton Row, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mixed History</h3>
+
+<p>The Scene: Qurnah, Mesopotamia.</p>
+
+<p>Cockney Tommy&mdash;obviously an old Sunday school boy&mdash;fed up
+with Arabs, Turks, boils, scorpions, flies, thirst, and dust: "Well, if
+this is the Garden of Eden, no wonder the Twelve Apostles 'opped it!"&mdash;<i>G.
+T. C., Hendon, N.W.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Got His Goat!</h3>
+
+<p>We, a Field Company of the R.E.'s in France, were on the move to
+a new sector, and amongst our "properties" was a mobile "dairy"&mdash;a
+goat.</p>
+
+<p>"Nanny" travelled on top of a trestle-wagon containing bridging
+gear, with a short rope attached to her collar to confine her activities.
+But a "pot-hole" in the narrow road supplied a lurch that dislodged
+her, with the result that she slid overboard, and the shortness of the rope
+prevented her from reaching the ground.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i117.jpg" width="600" height="419" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Nanny, you'll hang next time!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The driver of the wagon behind saw her predicament, and, dismounting,
+ran to her assistance, shouting for the column to halt. Then he took
+Nanny in his arms to relieve the weight on her neck, whilst others
+clambered aboard and released the rope.</p>
+
+<p>Nanny was then put on her legs while her rescuer stood immediately
+in front, watching her recover.</p>
+
+<p>This she speedily did, and, raising her head for a moment, apparently
+discerned the cause of her discomfiture peering at her. At any rate,
+lowering her head, she sprang and caught Bermondsey Bill amidships,
+sending him backwards into a slimy ditch at the side of the road.</p>
+
+<p>As he lay there amidst the undergrowth he yelled, "Strike me pink,
+Nanny! You'll hang next time."&mdash;<i>E. Martin, 78 Chelverton Road,
+Putney, S.W.15.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Difficult Top Note</h3>
+
+<p>Somewhere in Palestine the band of a famous London division
+had been called together for very much overdue practice. The overture
+"Poet and Peasant" called for a French horn solo ending on a
+difficult top note.</p>
+
+<p>After the soloist had made
+many attempts to get this note
+the bandmaster lost his temper
+and gave the player a piece
+of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Looking at the battered instrument,
+which had been in
+France, the Balkans, and was
+now in the Wilderness, and was
+patched with sticking-plaster
+and soap, the soloist, who
+hailed from Mile End, replied:
+"Here, if you can do it better
+you have a go. I don't mind
+trying it on an <i>instrument</i>,
+but I'm darned if I can play
+it on a cullender."&mdash;<i>D. Beland,
+17 Ridgdale Street, London, E.3.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 344px;">
+<img src="images/i118.jpg" width="344" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... but I'm darned if I can play it
+on a cullender."</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Home by Underground</h3>
+
+<p>A cold, wet night in France.
+My company was making
+its way up a communication
+trench on the right of the
+Arras-Cambrin road. It was
+in some places waist deep in
+mud. I was in front next to
+my officer when the word was
+passed down that one of the
+men had fallen into the mud
+and could not be found. The
+officer sent me back to find
+out what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the spot I found that the man had fallen into the mouth
+of a very deep dug-out which had not been used for some time.</p>
+
+<p>Peering into the blackness, I called out, "Where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Back came the reply: "You get on wiv the blinkin' war. I've fahnd
+the Channel Tunnel and am going 'ome."</p>
+
+<p>I may say it took us six hours to get him out.&mdash;<i>H. F. B. (late 7th Batt.
+Middlesex Regt.), London, N.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Job for Samson</h3>
+
+<p>During Allenby's big push in Palestine the men were on a forced
+night march, and were tired out and fed up. An officer was trying
+to buck some of them up by talking of the British successes in France
+and also of the places of interest they would see farther up in Palestine.</p>
+
+<p>He was telling them that they were now crossing the Plains of Hebron
+where Samson carried the gates of Gaza, when a deep Cockney voice
+rang out from the ranks, "What a pity that bloke ain't 'ere to carry
+this pack of mine!"&mdash;<i>C. W. Blowers, 25 Little Roke Avenue, Kenley,
+Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jerry Wins a Bet</h3>
+
+<p>In the Salient, 1916: Alf, who owned a Crown and Anchor board of
+great antiquity, had it spread out on two petrol cans at the bottom
+of a shell-hole.</p>
+
+<p>Around it four of us squatted and began to deposit thereon our dirty
+half and one franc notes, with occasional coins of lesser value. The
+constant whistle of passing fragments was punctuated by the voice of
+Alf calling upon the company to "'ave a bit on the 'eart" or alternately
+"to 'ave a dig in the grave" when a spent bullet crashed on his tin
+hat and fell with a thud into the crown square. "'Struth," gasped
+Alf, "old squarehead wants to back the sergeant-major." He gave a
+final shake to the cup and exposed the dice&mdash;one heart and two crowns.
+"Blimey," exclaimed Alf, "would yer blinkin' well believe it? Jerry's
+backed a winner. 'Arf a mo," and picking up the spent bullet he threw
+it with all his might towards the German lines, exclaiming, "'Ere's yer
+blinking bet back, Jerry, and 'ere's yer winnings." He cautiously fired
+two rounds.&mdash;<i>G. S. Raby (ex-2nd K.R.R.C.), Shoeburyness, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lucky he was Born British</h3>
+
+<p>Many ex-soldiers must remember the famous Major Campbell, who
+(supported by the late Jimmy Driscoll), toured behind the lines in
+France giving realistic demonstrations of bayonet fighting.</p>
+
+<p>I was a spectator on one occasion when the Major was demonstrating
+"defence with the naked hands." "Now," he shouted as Jimmy
+Driscoll (who acted the German) rushed upon him with rifle and bayonet
+pointed for a thrust, "I side-step" (grasping his rifle at butt and upper
+band simultaneously); "I twist it to the horizontal and fetch my knee
+up into the pit of his stomach, so! And then, as his head comes down,
+I release my right hand, point my fore and third fingers, so! and stab
+at his eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"Lor'!" gasped a little Cockney platoon chum squatting beside me,
+"did yer see that lot? Wot a nice kind of bloke he is! Wot a blinkin'
+stroke of luck he was born on our side!"&mdash;<i>S. J. Wilson (late 1/20th
+County London Regt.), 27 Cressingham Road, Lewisham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>You Never Can Tell</h3>
+
+<p>Scene: Turk trench, Somme, on a cold, soaking night in November,
+1916. A working party, complete with rifles, picks, and spades,
+which continually became entangled in the cats' cradle of miscellaneous
+R.E. wire, is making terribly slow progress over irregular trench-boards
+hidden under mud and water. Brisk strafing ahead promising trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Impatient officer (up on the parapet): "For heaven's sake, you lads,
+get a move on! You're not going to a funeral!"</p>
+
+<p>Cockney voice (from bottom of trench): "'Ow the dooce does <i>'e</i> know!"&mdash;<i>W.
+Ridsdale, 41 Manor Road, Beckenham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Window Gazer</h3>
+
+<p>In the early part of 1915, when the box periscope was in great use in
+the trenches, we received a draft of young recruits. One lad, of a
+rather inquisitive nature, was always looking in the glass trying to find
+Jerry's whereabouts.</p>
+
+<p>An old Cockney, passing up and down, had seen this lad peeping in
+the glass. At last he stopped and addressed the lad as follows:</p>
+
+<p>"You've been a-looking in that bloomin' winder all the die, an' nah
+yer ain't bought nuffink."&mdash;<i>E. R. Gibson (late Middlesex Regt.), 42
+Maldon Road, Edmonton, N.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I Don't Fink"</h3>
+
+<p>After we landed in France our officer gave us a lecture and told us
+that our best pal in this world was our rifle. He warned us that
+on no account must we part with it. A couple of nights later Gunner
+Brown, a Cockney, was on guard. When the visiting officer approached
+him and said, "Your rifle is dirty, gunner," he replied, "I don't fink so
+sir, 'cos I cleaned it." "Give it to me," said the officer sternly, which
+Brown did. Then the officer said, "You fool, if I were an enemy in
+English uniform I could shoot you." To which Brown replied, "I don't
+fink you could, sir, 'cos I've got the blinkin' bolt in my pocket."&mdash;<i>E. W.
+Houser (late 41st Division, R.F.A.) 22 Hamlet Road, Southend.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why the Attack <i>Must</i> Fail</h3>
+
+<p>November 1918. The next day we were to move up in readiness
+for the great advance of the 3rd Army.</p>
+
+<p>Some of us were trying to sleep in a cellar when the silence was broken
+by a small voice: "I'm sure this attack will go wrong, you chaps! I
+feel it in my bones!"</p>
+
+<p>It can be imagined how this cheerful remark was received, but when
+the abuse had died down, the same voice was heard again: "Yes, I
+knows it. Some blighter will step orf wi' the wrong foot and we'll all
+'ave to come back and start again!"&mdash;<i>"D" Coy., M.G.C. (24th Batt.),
+Westcliff.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The "Shovers"</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat of 1918 I was standing with my company on the
+side of the road by Outersteene Farm, outside Bailleul, when three
+very small and youthful German Tommies with helmets four sizes too
+large passed on their way down the line as prisoners for interrogation.
+As they reached us I heard one of my men say to another: "Luv us,
+'Arry, look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"&mdash;<i>L. H. B., Beckenham.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i121.jpg" width="600" height="480" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Luv us, 'Arry; look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Rehearsal&mdash;Without the Villain</h3>
+
+<p>A small party with a subaltern were withdrawn from the line to
+rehearse a raid on the German line. A replica of the German
+trenches had been made from aircraft photographs, and these, with our
+own trench and intervening wire, were faithfully reproduced, even to
+shell-holes.</p>
+
+<p>The rehearsal went off wonderfully. The wire was cut, the German
+trenches were entered, and dummy bombs thrown down the dug-outs.</p>
+
+<p>Back we came to our own trenches. "Everything was done excellently,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+men," said the subaltern, "but I should like to be sure that every difficulty
+has been allowed for. Can any man think of any point which we have
+overlooked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," came the terse reply&mdash;"Jerry."&mdash;<i>Edward Nolan (15th London
+Regt.), 41 Dalmeny Avenue, S.W.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Poetry Before the Push</h3>
+
+<p>During February and March 1918 the 1/13th Battalion London
+Regiment (the Kensingtons), who were at Vimy Ridge, had been
+standing-to in the mornings for much longer than the regulation hour
+because of the coming big German attack. One company commander&mdash;a
+very cheery officer&mdash;was tired of the general "wind up" and determined
+to pull the legs of the officers at Battalion H.Q. It was his duty to
+send in situation reports several times a day. To vary things he wrote
+a situation report in verse, sent it over the wire to B.H.Q., where, of
+course, it was taken down in prose and read with complete consternation
+by the C.O. and adjutant!</p>
+
+<p>It showed the gay spirit which meant so much in the front line at a
+time when everyone's nerves were on edge. It was written less than two
+days before the German offensive of March 21. Here are the verses:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+(<i>C Company Situation Report 19/3/18</i>)<br />
+<br />
+There is nothing I can tell you<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you really do not know&mdash;</span><br />
+Except that we are on the Ridge<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Fritz is down below.</span><br />
+<br />
+I'm tired of "situations"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And of "wind" entirely "vane."</span><br />
+The gas-guard yawns and tells me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"It's blowing up for rain."</span><br />
+<br />
+He's a human little fellow.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a thoughtful point of view,</span><br />
+And his report (uncensored)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I pass, please, on to you.</span><br />
+<br />
+"When's old Fritzie coming over?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Does the General really know?</span><br />
+The Colonel seems to think so,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Captain tells us 'No.'</span><br />
+<br />
+"When's someone going to tell us<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We can 'Stand-to' as before?</span><br />
+An hour at dawn and one at dusk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lor' blimey, who wants more?"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>The word "vane" in the second verse refers, of course, to the weather-vane
+used in the trenches to indicate whether the wind was favourable
+or not for a gas attack.&mdash;<i>Frederick Heath (Major), 1/13th Batt. London
+Regt. (Kensingtons).</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>'Erb's Consolation Prize</h3>
+
+<p>A narrow communication trench leading up to the front line;
+rain, mud, shells, and everything else to make life hideous.</p>
+
+<p>Enter the ration party, each man carrying something bulky besides
+his rifle and kit.</p>
+
+<p>One of the party, a Londoner known as 'Erb, is struggling with a huge
+mail-bag, bumping and slipping and sliding, moaning and swearing,
+when a voice from under a sack of bread pipes: "Never mind, 'Erb;
+perhaps there's a postcard in it for you!"&mdash;<i>L. G. Austin (24th London
+Regiment), 8 Almeida Street, Upper Street, Islington, N.1.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 557px;">
+<img src="images/i123.jpg" width="557" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Never mind, 'Erb, perhaps there's a postcard in it for you!"</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Rum for Sore Feet</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst doing duty as acting Q.M.S. I was awakened one night by
+a loud banging on the door of the shack which was used as the
+stores. Without getting up I asked the reason for the noise, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+told that a pair of boots I had issued that day were odd&mdash;one was smaller
+than the other. The wearer was on stable piquet, and could hardly
+walk.</p>
+
+<p>I told him he would have to put up with it till the morning&mdash;I wasn't
+up all night changing boots, and no doubt I should have a few words to
+say when I did see him!</p>
+
+<p>"Orl right, Quarter," came the reply, "I'm sorry I woke yer&mdash;but
+could yer give us a tot of rum to stop the pain?"&mdash;<i>P. K. (late 183rd
+Batt. 41st Div. R.F.A.), Kilburn, N.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Two Guineas' Worth</h3>
+
+<p>In France during November 1914 I received an abrupt reminder that
+soldiering with the Honourable Artillery Company entails an annual
+subscription.</p>
+
+<p>The battalion had marched out during the night to a small village
+named Croix Barbée to carry out some operation, and returned at daybreak
+to its "lodging" near La Couture, another village some four or
+five miles away.</p>
+
+<p>Being a signaller, I had the doubtful privilege of owning a bicycle,
+which had to be pushed or carried every inch of the way. On the march
+back the mud was so bad that it was impossible for me to keep up with
+the battalion, owing to the necessity every quarter of a mile or so of
+cleaning out the mudguards.</p>
+
+<p>I was plodding along all by myself in the early hours of daylight, very
+tired of the bike and everything else, and I approached an old soldier
+of the Middlesex Regiment sitting by the roadside recovering slowly
+from the strain of the fatiguing night march.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Well, mate,
+'ad yer two guineas wurf yet?"&mdash;<i>J. H. May, Ravenswood, Ashford,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Four-footed Spy</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst we were at Arras a horse was found entangled in some
+barbed wire, having presumably strayed from the German lines.
+He was captured by a rifleman and brought back to the horse lines to be
+used by the transport driver.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney groom was detailed to look after him. The two never
+seemed to agree, for the groom was always being bitten or kicked by
+"Jerry."</p>
+
+<p>One morning the picket discovered that "Jerry" was missing, and
+concluded that he must have broken away during the night. The matter
+was reported to the sergeant, who went and routed out the groom.
+"What about it? Ain't you goin' to look for 'im?" said the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Not me, sarge! I always said the blighter was a blinkin' spy!" replied
+the groom.&mdash;<i>J. Musgrave (late 175th Infantry Brigade), 52 Cedar Grove,
+South Ealing, W.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Every Dog has his Night</h3>
+
+<p>Our battalion arrived in a French village late on the night of September
+25, 1915, after marching all day in pouring rain. To add to our
+troubles no billets were available (the place was teeming with reserve
+troops for the attack at Loos).</p>
+
+<p>We were told to find some sort of shelter from the rain and get a good
+night's rest, as we were to move up to the attack on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>My chum, a Londoner, and I scouted round. I found room for one in
+an already overcrowded stable; my chum continued the search. He
+returned in a few minutes to tell me he had found a spot. I wished him
+good night and went to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning, when I came out of the stable, I saw the long legs of a
+Guardsman (who proved to be my chum) protruding from a dog kennel.
+Beside them sat a very fed-up dog!&mdash;<i>F. Martin (late 1st Batt. Scots
+Guards), 91 Mostyn Road, Brixton, S.W.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 504px;">
+<img src="images/i125.jpg" width="504" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"...A very fed-up dog."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Brigadier's Glass Eye</h3>
+
+<p>A brigadier of the 54th Infantry Brigade (18th Division), who
+had a glass-eye, and his Cockney runner, were on their way up the
+line when they observed a dead German officer who had a very prominent
+gold tooth.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, passing by the same spot, the Brigadier noticed that
+the gold tooth was missing.</p>
+
+<p>"I see that his gold tooth has gone, Johnson," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose someone will take my glass eye, if I am knocked out."</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir. I've put meself dahn fer that, fer a souvenir!"&mdash;<i>W. T.
+Pearce, "Southernhay," Bethune Avenue, Friern Barnet, N.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Chaplain-General's Story</h3>
+
+<p>In June 1917 I shared a G.H.Q. car with the Chaplain-General to
+the Forces, Bishop Gwynne, who was on his way from St. Omer to
+Amiens, whilst I was on my way to the Third Army School at Auxi-le-Château.</p>
+
+<p>During the journey our conversation turned to chaplains, and the
+bishop asked me whether I thought the chaplains then coming to France
+were of the right type, especially from the point of view of the regimental
+officers and men. My reply was that the chaplains as a whole differed
+very little from any other body of men in France: they were either men
+of the world and very human, and so got on splendidly with the troops,
+or else they were neither the one nor the other, cut very little ice, and
+found their task a very difficult one.</p>
+
+<p>The Bishop then told me the following story, which he described as
+perfectly true:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>"A chaplain attached to a London regiment made a practice of
+always living in the front line whenever the battalion went in to the
+trenches rather than remaining with Battalion Headquarters some way
+back, and he had his own dug-out over which appeared the words 'The
+Vicarage.'</p>
+
+<p>"One day a young Cockney in the line for the first time was walking
+along the trench with an older soldier, and turning a corner suddenly
+came on 'The Vicarage.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Gorblimey, Bill!' he said, 'who'd 'ave fought of seein' the b&mdash;&mdash;
+vicarage in the front line?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Immediately the cheery face of the padre popped out from behind
+the blanket covering the entrance and a voice in reply said: 'Yes!
+And who'd have thought of seeing the b&mdash;&mdash; vicar too?'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"That's the kind of chaplain," said the Bishop, "I'm trying to get
+them to send out to France."&mdash;<i>(Brig.-Gen.) R. J. Kentish, C.M.G., D.S.O.,
+Shalford Park, Guildford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Thirst Worth Saving</h3>
+
+<p>During the summer of 1917 our battalion&mdash;the 1/5th Buffs&mdash;formed
+part of General Thompson's flying column operating between the
+Tigris and the Shatt Al-'Adhaim.</p>
+
+<p>One morning we discovered that the native camel drivers had deserted
+to the enemy's lines, taking with them the camels that were carrying
+our water.</p>
+
+<p>No man had more than a small cup of water in his bottle yet we
+waited orders until dawn the next day, when a 'plane dropped a message
+for us to return to the Tigris.</p>
+
+<p>I shall not dwell on that 20-mile march back to the river over the
+burning sand&mdash;I cannot remember the last few miles of it myself. None
+of us could speak. Our lips and tongues were bursting.</p>
+
+<p>When we reached the Tigris we drank and drank again&mdash;then lay
+exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>The first man I heard speak was "Busty" Johnson, who, with great
+effort hoarsely muttered: "Lumme, if I can only keep this blinkin'
+first till I goes on furlough!"&mdash;<i>J. W. Harvey (late 1/5th Buffs, M.E.F.),
+25 Queen's Avenue, Greenford Park, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Points of View</h3>
+
+<p>On a wet and cold winter's night in the hills south of Nablus (Palestine)
+a sentry heard sounds as of slipping feet and strange guttural
+noises from the direction of the front line. He waited with his rifle at
+the port and then challenged: "Halt! who goes there?"</p>
+
+<p>A thin, dismal voice came from the darkness. "A pore miserable
+blighter with five ruddy camels."</p>
+
+<p>"Pass, miserable blighter, all's well," replied the sentry.</p>
+
+<p>Into the sentry's view came a rain-soaked disconsolate-looking Tommy
+"towing" five huge ration camels.</p>
+
+<p>"All's well, is it? Coo! Not 'arf!" said he.&mdash;<i>W. E. Bickmore (late
+"C" 303 Brigade, R.F.A., 60th Div.), 121 Gouville Road, Thornton Heath,
+Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not the British Museum</h3>
+
+<p>The Labyrinth Sector.</p>
+
+<p>Three of us&mdash;signallers&mdash;having just come off duty in the front
+line, were preparing to put in a few hours' sleep, when a voice came
+floating down the dug-out steps: "Is Corporal Stone down there?"</p>
+
+<p>Chorus: "No!"</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later came the same voice: "Is Sergeant Fossell down
+there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go away," replied our Cockney; "this ain't the blinkin' British
+Museum!"&mdash;<i>G. J. Morrison (late 14th London Regt.), "Alness," Colborne
+Way, Worcester Park, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jerry Would Not Smile</h3>
+
+<p>I met him coming from the front line, one of "London's Own."
+He was taking back the most miserable and sullen-looking prisoner
+I have ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Got a light, Jock?" he asked me. I obliged. "'Ave a Ruby
+Queen, matey?" I accepted.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheerful-looking customer you've got there, Fusie," I ventured,
+pointing to his prisoner.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i128.jpg" width="600" height="570" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... and if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's 'opeless."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He looked up in disgust. "Cheerful? Lummie, he gives me the
+creeps. I've orfered 'im a fag, and played 'Katie' and 'When this
+luvly war is over' on me old mouf orgin for him, but not a bloomin'
+smile. An' I've shown him me souvenirs and a photograph of me old
+woman, and, blimey, if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's 'opeless!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And then, with a cheery "Mercy bokoo, matey," and a "Come on,
+'Appy," to his charge, he pushed on.&mdash;<i>Charles Sumner (late London
+Scottish), Butler's Cottage, Sutton Lane, Heston, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Birdie" Had to Smile</h3>
+
+<p>While I was serving with the Australians at Gallipoli in 1915 I
+was detailed to take charge of a fatigue party to carry water
+from the beach to the front line, a distance of about a mile.</p>
+
+<p>Our way lay over rather dangerous and extremely hilly country.
+The weather was very hot. Each man in the party had to carry four
+petrol tins of water.</p>
+
+<p>While trudging along a narrow communication trench we were confronted
+by General Birdwood and his A.D.C. As was the general's
+cheery way, he stopped, and to the man in front (one "Stumpy" Stewart,
+a Cockney who had been in Australia for some time) he remarked, "Well,
+my man, how do you like this place?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stumpy" shot a quick glance at the general and then blurted out,
+"Well, sir, 't'aint the sort of plice you'd bring your Jane to, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>I can see "Birdie's" smile now.&mdash;<i>C. Barrett (Lieut., Aust. Flying
+Corps, then 6th Aust. Light Horse), Charing Cross, W.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Their Very Own Secret</h3>
+
+<p>We were on a forced march to a sector on Vimy Ridge. It was a
+wicked night&mdash;rain and thick fog&mdash;and during a halt several of our
+men got lost. I was ordered to round them up, but I also got hopelessly
+lost.</p>
+
+<p>I had been wandering about for some time when I came across one of
+our men&mdash;a young fellow from the Borough. We had both lost direction
+and could do nothing but wait.</p>
+
+<p>At last dawn broke and the fog lifted. We had not the slightest idea
+where we were, so I told my friend to reconnoitre a hill on the right and
+report to me if he saw anyone moving, while I did the same on the left.</p>
+
+<p>After a while I heard a cautious shout, and my companion came
+running towards me, breathless with excitement, and in great delight
+gasped, "Sergeant, sergeant! Germans! Germans! Fousands of 'em&mdash;and
+there's nobody but you and me knows anyfing abaht it!"&mdash;<i>G.
+Lidsell (late Devon Regt.), Brixton, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Window Cleaners Coming!</h3>
+
+<p>We were passing through Ypres, in 1915, in a Wolseley Signals tender
+when we came upon a battalion of the Middlesex on their way out
+to rest, very tired and very dirty.</p>
+
+<p>Our cable cart ladders, strapped to the sides of the lorry, caught the
+eyes of one wag. "Blimey, boys," he cried, "we're orl right nah; 'ere
+comes the blinkin' winder-cleaners."&mdash;<i>"Sigs.," Haslemere, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>First Blow</h3>
+
+<p>It was outside Albert, during the Somme attack, that I met a lone
+Army Service Corps wagon, laden with supplies. One of the horses
+was jibbing, and the driver, a diminutive Cockney, was at its head,
+urging it forward. As I approached I saw him deliberately kick the
+horse in the flank.</p>
+
+<p>I went up to the man and, taking out notebook and pencil, asked
+him for his name, number, and unit, at the same time remonstrating
+with him severely.</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't doin' 'im no 'arm," pleaded the man; "I've only got my
+gum-boots on, and, besides, 'e kicked me first."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i130.jpg" width="600" height="406" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"An' besides, he kicked me first."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I tore up my entry, mounted my motor-cycle, and left an injured-looking
+driver rubbing a sore shin.&mdash;<i>R. D. Blackman (Capt., R.A.F.),
+118 Abbey Road, St. John's Wood, N.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>M.M. (Mounted Marine)</h3>
+
+<p>After riding for several hours one wet, windy, and miserable night,
+with everyone soaked to the skin and fed up generally, we were
+halted in a field which, owing to the heavy rain, was more like a lake.</p>
+
+<p>On receiving the order to dismount and loosen girths, one of our
+number remained mounted and was busy flashing a small torch on the
+water when the sergeant, not too gently, inquired, "Why the dickens are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+you still mounted, and what the deuce are you looking for anyway?"
+To which a Cockney voice replied, "Blimey, sergeant, where's the
+landing stage?"&mdash;<i>"Jimmy" (late Essex Yeomanry).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His German 'Arp</h3>
+
+<p>Having been relieved, after our advance at Loos in 1915, we were
+making our way back at night.</p>
+
+<p>We had to pass through the German barbed wire, which had tins tied
+to it so that it rattled if anyone tried to pass it.</p>
+
+<p>Our sergeant got entangled in it and caused a lot of noise, whereupon
+a Cockney said: "You're orl right on the old banjo, sergeant, but when
+it comes to the German 'arp you're a blinkin' washaht."&mdash;<i>W. Barnes,
+M.M. (late 1st Bn. K.R.R.C.), 63 Streatfeild Avenue, East Ham.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i131.jpg" width="600" height="590" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"When it comes to the German 'arp you're a washaht."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jack went a-Riding</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1916 we were on outpost duty at a place called Ayun
+Musa, about four miles east of Suez.</p>
+
+<p>One day a British monitor arrived in the Gulf of Suez, and we were
+invited to spend an hour on board as the sailors' guests. The next day
+the sailors came ashore and were our guests.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 511px;">
+<img src="images/i132.jpg" width="511" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Don't ask me&mdash;ask the blinkin' 'oss."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After seeing the canteen most of them were anxious for a ride on a
+horse. So we saddled a few horses and helped our guests to mount.
+Every horse chose a different direction in the desert.</p>
+
+<p>One of the sailors was a Cockney. He picked a fairly fresh mount,
+which soon "got away" with him. He lost his reins and hung round
+the animal's neck for dear life as it went at full gallop right through the
+Camp Commandant's quarters.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing the commotion, the Commandant put his head out of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+bivouac and shouted, "What the dickens do you mean galloping through
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>Back came the retort, "Don't ask me&mdash;ask the blinkin' 'oss."&mdash;<i>H. F.
+Montgomery (late H.A.C.), 33 Cavenham Gardens, Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bitter Memories</h3>
+
+<p>During an attack near Beer-Sheba, Palestine, our regiment had
+been without water for over twenty-four hours. We were suffering
+very badly, as the heat was intense. Most of us had swollen tongues
+and lips and were hardly able to speak, but the company humorist, a
+Cockney, was able to mutter, "Don't it make you mad to fink of the
+times you left the barf tap running?"&mdash;<i>H. Owen (late Queen's Royal
+West Surrey Regt.), 18 Edgwarebury Gardens, Edgware, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Tommy "Surrounded" Them</h3>
+
+<p>It was in July 1916. The Somme Battle had just begun. The
+troops in front of us had gone over the top and were pushing forward.
+We were in support and had just taken over the old front line.</p>
+
+<p>Just on our right was a road leading up and through the German lines.
+Looking up this road we saw a small squad strolling towards us. It was
+composed of four Germans under the care of a London Tommy who was
+strolling along, with his rifle under his arm, like a gamekeeper. It made
+quite a nice picture.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached us one of our young officers shouted out: "Are
+you looking for the hounds?"</p>
+
+<p>Then the Cockney started: "Blimey, I don't know abaht looking for
+'ounds. I got four of 'em 'ere&mdash;and now I got 'em I don't know where
+to dump 'em."</p>
+
+<p>The officer said: "Where did you find them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I surrounded 'em, sir," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>Our officer said: "You had better leave them here for the time being."</p>
+
+<p>"Right-o, sir," replied the Cockney. "You hang on to 'em until I
+come back. I'm going up the road to get some more. There's fahsends
+of 'em up there."&mdash;<i>R. G. Williams, 30 Dean Cottages, Hanworth Road,
+Hampton, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Shell-holes and Southend</h3>
+
+<p>My pal (a Battersea boy) and I were two of a draft in 1916 transferred
+from the K.R.R.s to the R.I.R.s. On the first night in the trenches
+we were detailed for listening post. My pal said: "That's good. I'll
+be able to tell father what No Man's Land is like, as he asked me."</p>
+
+<p>After we had spent what was to me a nerve-wracking experience in
+the mud of a shell-hole, I asked him what he was going to tell his father.
+He said: "It's like Southend at low tide on the fifth of November."&mdash;<i>F.
+Tuohey (late 14th Batt. R.I.R.), 31 Winchester Road, Edmonton.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Make Me a Good 'Orse"</h3>
+
+<p>Having come out of action, we lay behind the line waiting for reinforcements
+of men and horses. The horses arrived, and I went out
+to see what they were like.</p>
+
+<p>I was surprised to see a Cockney, who was a good groom, having trouble
+in grooming one of the new horses. Every time he put the brush between
+its forelegs the animal went down on its knees.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i134.jpg" width="600" height="495" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Gawd bless farver an' make me a good 'orse."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>At last in desperation the Cockney stepped back, and gazing at the
+horse still on its knees, said: "Go on, yer long-faced blighter. 'Gawd
+bless muvver. Gawd bless farver, an' make me a good 'orse.'"&mdash;<i>Charles
+Gibbons (late 3rd Cavalry Brigade), 131 Grove Street, Deptford, S.E.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Lost Gumboot</h3>
+
+<p>An N.C.O. in the Engineers, I was guiding a party of about seventy
+Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regt.) through a trench system
+between Cambrin, near Loos, and the front line. About half-way the
+trenches were in many places knee-deep in mud. It was about 2 a.m.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+and shelling made things far from pleasant. Then word came up that
+we had lost touch with the tail-end of the party, and a halt was called,
+most of us standing in mud two feet deep.</p>
+
+<p>The officer in charge sent a message back asking why the tail-end had
+failed to keep up. The reply came back in due course: "Man lost his
+gumboot in the mud." The officer, becoming annoyed at the delay,
+sent back the message: "Who's the fool who lost his gumboot?"</p>
+
+<p>I heard the message receding into the distance with the words "fool"
+"gumboot" preceded by increasingly lurid adjectives. In about three
+or four minutes I heard the answer being passed up, getting louder and
+louder: "Charlie Chaplin," "<span class="smcap">Charlie Chaplin</span>," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN."
+Even our sorely-tried officer had to laugh.&mdash;<i>P. Higson,
+Lancashire.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Compree 'Sloshy'?"</h3>
+
+<p>During one of the Passchendaele advances in 1917 my battery was
+situated astride a board roadway leading over the ridge. After this
+particular show was over I happened to be in the telephone dug-out
+when prisoners started coming back.</p>
+
+<p>One weary little lance-jack in a London regiment arrived in charge
+of an enormous, spectacled, solemn-looking Fritz. As he reached the
+battery position he paused to rest and look at the guns.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning against the side of the dug-out he produced a cigarette end
+and, lighting it, proceeded to make conversation with his charge which,
+being out of sight, I was privileged to overhear.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't 'arf blinkin' sloshy 'ere, ain't it, Fritz? Compree sloshy?"
+No reply.</p>
+
+<p>He tried again. "Got a cushy job these 'ere artillery blokes, ain't
+they? Compree cushy?" Still no answer.</p>
+
+<p>He made a third attempt. "S'pose you're abart fed up with this
+blinkin' guerre. Compree guerre?" Again the stony, uncomprehending
+silence; and then:</p>
+
+<p>"Garn, yer don't know nuffink, yer don't, yer ignorant blighter. Say
+another blinkin' word and I'll knock yer blinkin' block orf."&mdash;<i>A. E.
+Joyce (late R.F.A.), Swallowcroft, Broxbourne Road, Orpington, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Looking-Glass Luck</h3>
+
+<p>During the second battle of Ypres, in May 1915, I was attached to
+the 1st Cavalry Brigade, and after a terrific strafing from Fritz
+there was a brief lull, which gave us a chance for a "wash and brush up."</p>
+
+<p>While we were indulging in the luxury of a shave, a Cockney trooper
+dropped his bit of looking-glass.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing that it was broken I casually remarked, "Bad luck for seven
+years." And the reply I got was, "If I live seven years to 'ave bad luck
+it'll be blinking good luck."&mdash;<i>J. Tucker, 46 Langton Road, Brixton, S.W.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mine that was His</h3>
+
+<p>Just before our big push in August 1918 we were resting in "Tank
+Wood." The place was dotted with shell holes, one of which was
+filled with rather clean water, evidently from a nearby spring. A board
+at the edge of this hole bore the word "<span class="smcap">Mine</span>," so we gave it a wide
+berth.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine our surprise when later we saw "Tich," a lad from the Old
+Kent Road, bathing in the water. One of our men yelled, "Hi, Tich,
+carn't yer read?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," replied "Tich," "don't yer fink a bloke can read 'is own
+writing?"&mdash;<i>Walter F. Brooks (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 141 Cavendish
+Road, Highams Park, E.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Geography" Hour</h3>
+
+<p>Just before going over the top a private, wishing to appear as cheerful
+as possible, turned to his platoon sergeant and said: "I suppose
+we will be making history in a few minutes, sergeant?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied the sergeant: "our first objective is about 250 yards
+straight to the front. What you have to do is to get from here to there
+as quickly as your legs will carry you. We are making geography this
+morning, my lad!"&mdash;<i>"Arras," London, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>To the General, About the Colonel</h3>
+
+<p>The colonel of the regiment, gifted with the resonant voice of a dare-devil
+leader, was highly esteemed for his rigid sense of duty, especially
+in the presence of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans had been troubling us a lot with gas, and this kept everyone
+on the <i>qui vive</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Accompanied by the colonel, the divisional commander was making
+his usual inspection of the front line intent on the alertness of sentries.</p>
+
+<p>In one fire-bay the colonel stopped to give instructions regarding a
+ventilating machine which had been used to keep the trench clear of gas
+after each attack.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the general moved on towards the other end of the fire-bay,
+where the sentry, fresh out from the reserve battalion recruited in
+Bermondsey, stood with his eyes glued to the periscope.</p>
+
+<p>A natural impulse of the general as he noticed the weather-vane on the
+parapet was to test the sentry's intelligence on "gas attack by the
+enemy," so as he approached the soldier he addressed him in a genial
+and confiding manner: "Well, my lad, and how's the wind blowing this
+morning?"</p>
+
+<p>Welcoming a little respite, as he thought, from periscope strain, by
+way of a short "chin-wag" with one or other of his pals, the unsuspecting
+sentry rubbed his hands gleefully together as he turned round with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+reply: "'Taint 'arf so dusty arter all." Then, suddenly through the
+corner of his eye he caught sight of his colonel at the other end of the
+fire-bay. His face instantly changed its cheerful aspect as he breathlessly
+whispered to his inquirer, "Lumme, the ole man! 'Ere, mate,
+buzz orf quick&mdash;a-a-an' don't let 'im cop yer a-talkin' to the sentry on
+dooty, or Jerry's barrage will be a washaht when the Big Noise starts
+<i>'is</i> fireworks!"&mdash;<i>William St. John Spencer (late East Surrey Regiment),
+"Roydsmoor," Arneson Road, East Molesey, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bow Bells&mdash;1917 Style</h3>
+
+<p>We were going up the line at Bullecourt in April 1917. I have
+rather bad eyesight and my glasses had been smashed. Being
+the last of the file I lost touch with the others and had no idea where I
+was. However, I stumbled on, and eventually reached the front line.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 592px;">
+<img src="images/i137.jpg" width="592" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Take those bells orf."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Upon the ground were some empty petrol cans tied up ready to be
+taken down to be filled with water. I tripped up amongst these and
+created an awful din, whereupon an angry voice came from out the gloom.&mdash;"I
+don't know 'oo or wot the dickens you are, but for 'eaven's sake
+take those bells orf!"&mdash;<i>W. G. Root (late 12th London Regt.), 24 Harrington
+Square, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"The Awfentic Gramerphone!"</h3>
+
+<p>This happened on that wicked March 21, 1918.</p>
+
+<p>During a lull in the scrapping, a lone German wandered too near,
+and we collared him. He was handed over to Alf, our Cockney cookie.</p>
+
+<p>Things got blacker for us. We could see Germans strung out in front
+of us and on both flanks&mdash;Germans and machine guns everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, boys," said our major, "looks as if it's all up with us, doesn't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's this abaht it, sir," said Alf, pointing to his prisoner; "when
+it comes to chuckin' our 'ands in, we've got the awfentic gramerphone
+to yell 'Kamerad!'&mdash;ain't we?"&mdash;<i>C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Muffin Man</h3>
+
+<p>Two companies of a London regiment were relieving each other on
+a quiet part of the line, late in the evening of a dismal sort of day.
+The members of the ingoing company were carrying sheets of corrugated
+iron on their heads for the purpose of strengthening their position.</p>
+
+<p>A member of the outgoing company, observing a pal of his with one of
+these sheets on his head, bawled out: "'Ullo, 'Arry, what'cher doing of?"
+to which came the laconic reply: "Selling muffins, but I've lost me
+blinkin' bell."&mdash;<i>H. O. Harries, 85 Seymour Road, Harringay, N.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Holiday Resort</h3>
+
+<p>Early in October 1915 a half company of the 3rd Middlesex
+Regiment occupied a front-line sector at Givenchy, known as the
+"Duck's Bill," which ran into the German line.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of our proximity to the enemy our chief annoyance was
+occasional sniping, machine gunning, rifle grenades, and liquid fire, for
+the area had been given over mainly to mining and counter-mining.</p>
+
+<p>It was expected that the "Duck's Bill" would "go up" at any moment,
+so it was decided to leave only one officer in charge, with instructions
+to keep every available man engaged either in furiously tunnelling
+towards the enemy to counter their efforts, or in repairing our breast-works,
+which had been seriously damaged in a German attack.</p>
+
+<p>My men worked like Trojans on a most tiring, muddy, and gruesome
+task.</p>
+
+<p>At last we were relieved by the Leicestershire Regiment, and one of
+my men, on being asked by his Leicester relief what the place was like,
+replied: "Well, 'ow d'yer spend yer 'olidies, in the country or at the
+seaside? 'Cos yer gits both 'ere as yer pleases: rabbit 'unting (pointing
+to the tunnelling process) and sand castle building (indicating the breastwork
+repairs), wiv fireworks in the evening."</p>
+
+<p>The Leicesters, alas! "went up" that evening.&mdash;<i>S. H. Flood (late
+Middlesex Regiment and M.G.C.), "Prestonville," Maidstone Road,
+Chatham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The "Tich" Touch</h3>
+
+<p>We had survived the landing operations at Murmansk, in North
+Russia, and each company had received a number of sets of skis,
+which are very awkward things to manage until you get used to them.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion when we were practising, a "son of London," after
+repeated tumbles, remarked to his pals, who were also getting some
+"ups and downs": "Fancy seein' me dahn Poplar way wiv these
+fings on; my little old bunch of trouble would say, 'What's 'e trying
+ter do nah? Cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance?'"&mdash;<i>C. H.
+Mitchell (late Staff-Sergt. A.S.C.), 7 Kingsholm Gardens, Eltham, S.E.9.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i139.jpg" width="600" height="551" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Trying to cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance."</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Smart Men All</h3>
+
+<p>One of the usual orders had come through to my battalion of the
+Middlesex Regiment for a number of men to be detailed for extra
+regimental duties which would be likely to take them away from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+battalion for a considerable time. The company I commanded had to
+provide twenty men.</p>
+
+<p>It was a golden opportunity to make a selection of those men whose
+physical infirmities were more evident than the stoutness of their hearts.
+Together with my company sergeant-major I compiled a list of those
+who could best be spared from the trenches, and the following day they
+were paraded for inspection before moving off.</p>
+
+<p>As I approached, one of the men who had been summing up his comrades
+and evidently realised the reason for their selection, remarked in a
+very audible Cockney whisper, "What I says is, if you was to search
+the 'ole of Norvern France you wouldn't find a smarter body o' men!"&mdash;<i>"Nobby"
+(late Captain, Middlesex Regiment), Potters Bar, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"You'd Pay a Tanner at the Zoo!"</h3>
+
+<p>During the floods in Palestine in 1917 I had to be sent down the
+line with an attack of malaria. Owing to the roads being deep in
+water, I was strapped in an iron chair pannier on the back of a camel.
+My sick companion, who balanced me on the other side of the camel, was
+a member of the London Regiment affectionately known as the Hackney
+Gurkhas.</p>
+
+<p>The Johnnie patiently trudged through the water leading the camel,
+and kept up the cry of "Ish! Ish!" as it almost slipped down at every
+step.</p>
+
+<p>I was feeling pretty bad with the swaying, and said to my companion,
+"Isn't this the limit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shurrup, mate!" he replied. "Yer don't know when yer well orf.
+You'd 'ave to pay a tanner for this at the Zoo!"&mdash;<i>Frederick T. Fitch
+(late 1/5th Batt. Norfolk Regt.), The Gordon Boys' Home, West End,
+Woking, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Smoking Without Cigarettes</h3>
+
+<p>Most ex-soldiers will remember the dreary monotony of "going
+through the motions" of every movement in rifle exercises.</p>
+
+<p>We had just evacuated our position on the night of December 4-5,
+1917, at Cambrai, after the German counter-attack, and, after withstanding
+several days' severe battering both by the enemy and the elements,
+were staggering along, tired and frozen and hungry, and generally fed up.</p>
+
+<p>When we were deemed to be sufficiently far from the danger zone the
+order was given to allow the men to smoke. As practically everyone in
+the battalion had been without cigarettes or tobacco for some days the
+permission seemed to be wasted. But I passed the word down, "'C'
+Company, the men may smoke," to be immediately taken up by a North
+Londoner: "Yus, and if you ain't got no fags you can go through the
+motions."&mdash;<i>H. H. Morris, M.C. (late Lieut., 16th Middlesex Regt.), 10
+Herbert Street, Malden Road, N.W.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Expensive Light</h3>
+
+<p>Winter 1915, at Wieltje, on the St. Jean Road. We were on
+listening post in a shell-hole in No Man's Land, and the night was
+black.</p>
+
+<p>Without any warning, my Cockney pal Nobby threw a bomb towards
+the German trench, and immediately Fritz sent up dozens of Verey lights.
+I turned anxiously to Nobby and asked, "What is it? Did you spot
+anything?" and was astonished when he replied, "I wanted ter know
+the time, and I couldn't see me
+blinkin' watch in the dark."&mdash;<i>E. W.
+Fellows, M.M. (late 6th Battn.
+D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace Road, Clapton,
+E.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Modern Conveniences</h3>
+
+<p>A Tommy plugging it along
+the Arras-Doullens road in
+the pouring rain. "Ole Bill," the
+omnibus, laden with Cockneys
+going towards the line, overtakes
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy: "Sitting room inside,
+mate?"</p>
+
+<p>Cockney on Bus: "No, but
+there's a barf-room upstairs!"&mdash;<i>George
+T. Coles (ex-Lieut., R.A.F.),
+17 Glebe Crescent, Hendon, N.W.4.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<img src="images/i141.jpg" width="249" height="400" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"There's a barf-room upstairs!"</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>The Trench Fleet</h3>
+
+<p>A certain section of the
+line, just in front of Levantie,
+being a comparatively peaceful
+and quiet spot, was held by a
+series of posts at intervals of
+anything up to three hundred
+yards, which made the task of
+bringing up rations an unhappy one, especially as the trenches in this
+sector always contained about four feet of water.</p>
+
+<p>One November night a miserable ration party was wading through
+the thin slimy mud. The sentry at the top of the communication trench,
+hearing the grousing, splashing, and clanking of tins, and knowing full
+well who was approaching, issued the usual challenge, as per Army
+Orders: "'Alt! 'Oo goes there?"</p>
+
+<p>Out of the darkness came the reply, in a weary voice: "Admiral
+Jellicoe an' 'is blinkin' fleet."&mdash;<i>W. L. de Groot (late Lieut., 5th West
+Yorks Regt.), 17 Wentworth Road, Golders Green, N.W.11.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Necessary Stimulant</h3>
+
+<p>On the St. Quentin front in 1917 we were relieved by the French
+Artillery. We watched with rather critical eyes their guns going
+in, and, best of all, their observation balloon going up.</p>
+
+<p>The ascent of this balloon was, to say the least, spasmodic. First it
+went up about a hundred feet, then came down, then a little higher and
+down again.</p>
+
+<p>This was repeated several times, until at last the car was brought to
+the ground and the observer got out. He was handed a packet, then
+hastily returned, and up the balloon went for good. Then I heard a
+Cockney voice beside me in explanatory tones: "There! I noo wot it
+was all the time. 'E'd forgotten his vin blong!"&mdash;<i>Ernest E. Homewood
+(late 1st London Heavy Battery), 13 Park Avenue, Willesden Green, N.W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Traffic Problem</h3>
+
+<p>A dark cloudy night in front of Lens, two patrols of the 19th London
+Regt., one led by Lieut. R&mdash;&mdash;, the other by Corporal B&mdash;&mdash;, were
+crawling along the barbed wire entanglements in No Man's Land,
+towards each other.</p>
+
+<p>Two tin hats met with a clang, which at once drew the attention of
+Fritz.</p>
+
+<p>Lieut. R&mdash;&mdash; sat back in the mud, while snipers' and machine-gun
+bullets whistled past, and in a cool voice said, "Why don't you ring your
+perishing bell?"&mdash;<i>L. C. Pryke (late 19th London Regt.), "Broughdale,"
+Rochford Avenue, Rochford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Scots, Read This!</h3>
+
+<p>On the afternoon of Christmas Day, 1915, three pipers, of whom I was
+one, went into the trenches at Loos, and after playing at our Battalion
+H.Q., proceeded to the front line, where we played some selections for
+the benefit of the Germans, whose trenches were very close at this point.
+Probably thinking that an attack was imminent, they sent up innumerable
+Verey lights, but, deciding later that we had no such intention, they
+responded by singing and playing on mouth-organs.</p>
+
+<p>Having finished our performance, my friends and I proceeded on our
+way back, and presently, passing some men of another regiment, were
+asked by one of them: "Was that you playin' them bloomin' toobs?"
+We admitted it.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ear that, Joe?" he remarked to his pal. "These blokes 'ave bin
+givin' the 'Uns a toon."</p>
+
+<p>"Serve 'em right," said Joe, "they started the blinkin' war."&mdash;<i>Robert
+Donald Marshall (late Piper, 1st Bn. London Scottish), 83 Cranley Drive,
+Ilford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Met His Match</h3>
+
+<p>A London Tommy was standing near the leave boat at Calais,
+which had just brought him back to France on his way to the firing
+line. It was raining, and he was trying to get a damp cigarette to draw.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a French soldier approached him with an unlighted cigarette
+in his hand, and, pointing to Tommy's cigarette, held out his hand and
+exclaimed "Allumette?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 493px;">
+<img src="images/i143.jpg" width="493" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">Poilu: "Allumette?"<br />
+Tommy: "'Allo, mate." (Shakes.)</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Tommy sadly shook hands and replied "Allo, Mate."&mdash;<i>A. J. Fairer,
+Mirigama, Red Down Road, Coulsdon, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why Jerry was "Clinked"</h3>
+
+<p>On August 8, 1918, as our battery began the long trail which landed
+us in Cologne before Christmas we met a military policeman who had
+in his charge three very dejected-looking German prisoners. "Brummy,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+our battery humorist, shouted to the red-cap: "'Ullo, Bobby, what are
+yer clinkin' those poor old blokes for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Creatin' a disturbance on the Western Front," replied the red-cap.&mdash;<i>Wm.
+G. Sheppard (late Sergeant, 24th Siege Bty., R.A.), 50 Benares Road,
+Plumstead, S.E.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Stick-in-the-Mud</h3>
+
+<p>We were in reserve at Roclincourt in February 1917, and about
+twenty men were detailed to carry rations to the front line. The
+trenches were knee-deep in mud.</p>
+
+<p>After traversing about two hundred yards of communication trench
+we struck a particularly thick, clayey patch, and every few yards the
+order "Halt in front!" was passed from the rear.</p>
+
+<p>The corporal leading the men got very annoyed at the all-too-frequent
+halts. He passed the word back, "What's the matter?" The reply
+was, "Shorty's in the mud, and we can't get 'im out."</p>
+
+<p>Waiting a few minutes, the corporal again passed a message back:
+"Haven't you got him out yet? How long are you going to be?"
+Reply came from the rear in a Cockney voice: "'Eaven knows! There's
+only 'is ears showin'."&mdash;<i>G. Kay, 162 Devonshire Avenue, Southsea, Hants.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"If <i>That</i> can stick it, <i>I</i> can!"</h3>
+
+<p>Owing to the forced marching during the retreat from Mons, men
+would fall out by the roadside and, after a rest, carry on again.</p>
+
+<p>One old soldier, "Buster" Smith, was lying down puffing and gasping
+when up rode an officer mounted upon an old horse that he had found
+straying.</p>
+
+<p>Going up to "Buster" the officer asked him if he thought he could
+"stick it."</p>
+
+<p>"Buster" looked up at the officer and then, eyeing the horse, said:
+"If <i>that</i> can stick it, <i>I</i> can," and, getting up, he resumed marching.&mdash;<i>E.
+Barwick, 19 St. Peter's Street, Hackney Road, E.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wheeling a Mule</h3>
+
+<p>In November '15 we were relieved in the early hours of the morning.</p>
+
+<p>It had been raining, raining most of the time we were in the trenches,
+and so we were more or less wet through and covered in mud when we
+came out for a few days' rest.</p>
+
+<p>About two or three kilometres from Béthune we were all weary and
+fed-up with marching. Scarcely a word was spoken until we came
+across an Engineer leading a mule with a roll of telephone wire coiled
+round a wheel on its back. The mule looked as fed-up as we were, and
+a Cockney in our platoon shouted out, "Blimey, mate, if you're goin'
+much furver wiv the old 'oss yer'll 'ave to turn it on its back and wheel
+it."&mdash;<i>W. S. (late Coldstream Guards), Chelsea, S.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Three Brace of Braces</h3>
+
+<p>While I was serving with the 58th Siege Battery at Carnoy, on the
+Somme, in 1916, a young Cockney of the 29th Division was discovered
+walking in front of three German prisoners. Over his shoulders
+he had three pairs of braces.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i145.jpg" width="600" height="452" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... while I got their 'harness' they can't get up to any mischief."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A wag asked him if he wanted to sell them, and his reply was: "No,
+these Fritzies gets 'em back when they gets to the cage. But while I
+got their 'harness' they can't get up to any mischief."&mdash;<i>E. Brinkman,
+16 Hornsey Street, Holloway Road, N.7.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Bow Bells" Warning</h3>
+
+<p>At the beginning of March 1918, near Flesquières, we captured a
+number of prisoners, some of whom were put in the charge of
+"Nipper," a native of Limehouse.</p>
+
+<p>I heard him address them as follows: "Nah, then, if yer wants a fag
+yer can have one, but, blimey, if yer starts any capers, I'll knock 'Bow
+Bells' aht of yer Stepney Church."&mdash;<i>J. Barlow (20th London Regt.),
+18 Roding Lane, Buckhurst Hill, Essex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"'Ave a Sniff"</h3>
+
+<p>My father tells of a raw individual from London Town who had
+aroused great wrath by having within a space of an hour given
+two false alarms for gas. After the second error everyone was just
+drowsing off again when a figure cautiously put his head inside the
+dug-out, and hoarsely said: "'Ere, sergeant, yer might come and 'ave
+a sniff."&mdash;<i>R. Purser, St. Oama, Vista Road, Wickford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Dirt Track</h3>
+
+<p>While my regiment was in support at Ecurie, near Arras, I was
+detailed to take an urgent message to B.H.Q.</p>
+
+<p>I mounted a motor-cycle and started on my way, but I hadn't gone
+far when a shell burst right in my path and made a huge crater, into
+which I slipped. After going round the inside rim twice at about twenty-five
+miles an hour, I landed in the mud at the bottom. Pulling myself
+clear of the cycle, I saw two fellows looking down and laughing at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny, isn't it?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yus, matey, thought it was Sanger's Circus. Where's the girl in the
+tights wot rides the 'orses?"</p>
+
+<p>Words failed me.&mdash;<i>London Yeomanry, Brixton, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Babylon and Bully</h3>
+
+<p>After a dismal trek across the mud of Mespot, my batman and I
+arrived at the ruins of Babylon. As I sat by the river under the
+trees, and gazed upon the stupendous ruins of the one-time mightiest
+city in the world, I thought of the words of the old Psalm&mdash;"By the
+waters of Babylon we sat down and wept&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And this was the actual spot!</p>
+
+<p>Moved by my thoughts, I turned to my batman and said, "By Jove,
+just think. This is really <i>Babylon</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," he replied, "but I'm a-wonderin' 'ow I'm goin' to do your
+bully beef up to-night to make a change like."&mdash;<i>W. L. Lamb (late R.E.,
+M.E.F.), "Sunnings," Sidley, Bexhill-on-Sea.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Twice Nightly</h3>
+
+<p>An attack was expected, and some men were kept in reserve in an
+underground excavation more closely resembling a tunnel than a
+trench.</p>
+
+<p>After about twenty hours' waiting in knee-deep mud and freezing cold,
+they were relieved by another group.</p>
+
+<p>As they were filing out one of the relief party said to one of those coming
+out, "Who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Oo are we?" came the reply. "Cahn't yer see we're the fust
+'ouse comin' aht o' the pit?"&mdash;<i>K. Haddon, 379 Rotherhithe New Road,
+North Camberwell, S.E.16.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In Shining Armour</h3>
+
+<p>A horrible wet night on the Locre-Dranoutre Road in 1914. A
+narrow strip of pavé road and, on either side, mud of a real Flanders
+consistency.</p>
+
+<p>I was on my lawful occasions in a car, which was following a long
+supply column of five-ton lorries.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i147.jpg" width="600" height="462" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ere, ally off the perishin' pavé, you knight in shinin' armour."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I need scarcely say that the car did not try to forsake the comparative
+security of the pavé, but when a check of about a quarter of an hour
+occurred, I got down from the car and stumbled through the pouring rain,
+well above the boot-tops in mud, to the head of the column.</p>
+
+<p>Impasse barely describes the condition of things, for immediately
+facing the leading lorry was a squadron of French Cuirassiers, complete
+with "tin bellies" and helmets with horse-hair trimmings.</p>
+
+<p>This squadron was in command of a very haughty French captain, who
+seemed, in the light of the lorry's head-lamps, to have a bigger cuirass
+and helmet than his men.</p>
+
+<p>He was faced by a diminutive sergeant of the A.S.C., wet through, fed
+up, but complete with cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Neither understood the other's language, but it was quite obvious that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+neither would leave the pavé for the mud. Did the sergeant wring his
+hands or say to the officer, "Mon Capitaine, je vous en prie, etc."?
+He did not. He merely stood there, and, removing his cigarette from
+his mouth, uttered these immortal words:</p>
+
+<p>"'Ere, ally off the perishing pavé, you son of a knight in shinin'
+armour!"</p>
+
+<p>And, believe me or believe me not, that is what the haughty one and
+his men did.&mdash;<i>"The Ancient Mariner," Sutton, Surrey.
+</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"A Blinkin' Paper-Chase?"</h3>
+
+<p>One pitch black rainy night I was bringing up the rear of a party
+engaged in carrying up the line a number of trench mortar bombs
+known as "toffee-apples."</p>
+
+<p>We had become badly tailed-off during our progress through a maze
+of communication trenches knee-deep in mud, and as I staggered at last
+into the support trench with my load I spied a solitary individual standing
+on the fire-step gazing over the parapet.</p>
+
+<p>"Seen any Queen's pass this way?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," he replied, apparently fed-up with the constant repetition
+of the same question, "wot 'ave you blokes got on to-night&mdash;-a blinkin'
+piper-chise?"&mdash;<i>W. H. Blakeman (late Sergt., Queen's R.W.S. Regt.),
+22 Shorts Road, Carshalton.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Biscuits&mdash;Another Point of View</h3>
+
+<p>In April 1915 my battalion was on the way up to take over a line of
+"grouse-butts"&mdash;there were no continuous trenches&mdash;in front of a
+pleasure resort by the name of Festubert.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at Gore, a couple of miles or so from the line, we ran into
+some transport that had got thoroughly tied up, and had a wait of about
+half-an-hour while the joy-riders sorted themselves out. It was pitch
+dark and raining hard, and the occasional spot of confetti that came over
+added very little to the general enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>As I moved up and down my platoon, the usual profane but humorous
+grousing was in full spate. At that time the ration arrangements were
+not so well organised as they afterwards became, and for some weeks the
+bulk of our banquets had consisted of bully and remarkably hard and
+unpalatable biscuits. The latter were a particularly sore point with the
+troops.</p>
+
+<p>As I listened, one rifleman held forth on the subject. "No blinkin'
+bread for five blinkin' weeks," he wound up&mdash;"nothin' but blinkin'
+biscuits that taste like sawdust an' break every tooth in yer perishin'
+'ed. 'Ow the 'ell do they expect yer to fight on stuff like that?"
+"Whatcher grousin' about?" drawled another weary voice. "Dawgs
+<i>lives</i> on biscuits, and they can fight like 'ell!"&mdash;<i>S. B. Skevington (late
+Major, 1st London Irish Rifles), 10 Berkeley Street, W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Bird Bath</h3>
+
+<p>A battalion of the Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment)
+was in support, and a private was endeavouring to wash himself
+as thoroughly as possible with about a pint of water in a mess-tin.</p>
+
+<p>A kindly disposed staff officer happened to come along, and seeing the
+man thus engaged, said, "Having a wash, my man?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i149.jpg" width="600" height="456" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Wish I was a blinkin' canary: I could have a bath then."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Back came the reply, "Yus, and I wish I was a blinkin' canary.
+Could have a bath then."&mdash;<i>R. G. Scarborough, 89 Tennyson Avenue,
+New Maiden, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Ducking 'em&mdash;-then Nursing 'em</h3>
+
+<p>After the Cambrai affair of November 1917 our company came
+out of the line, but we had to salvage some very large and heavy
+shells.</p>
+
+<p>We had been carrying the shells in our arms for about an hour when
+I heard a fed-up Cockney turn to the sergeant and say: "'Ere 'ave I
+been duckin' me nut for years from these blinkin' fings&mdash;-blimey, and
+nah I'm nursin' 'em!"&mdash;-<i>Rfn. Elliott (late 17th K.R.R.C.), 9 Leghorn Road,
+Harlesden, N.W.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Salonika Rhapsody</h3>
+
+<p>Three of us were sitting by the support line on the Salonika front,
+conditions were fairly bad, rations were short and a mail was long
+overdue. We were fed-up. But the view across the Vardar Valley was
+some compensation.</p>
+
+<p>The wadis and plains, studded with bright flowers, the glistening river
+and the sun just setting behind the distant ridges and tinting the low
+clouds, combined to make a perfect picture. One of my pals, with a
+poetic temperament, rhapsodised on the scene for several minutes, and
+then asked our other mate what he thought. "Sooner see the blinkin'
+Old Kent Road!" was the answer of the peace-time costermonger.&mdash;<i>W.
+W. Wright, 24 Borthwick Road, E.15.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Ticklin' Tiddler</h3>
+
+<p>In January 1915, near Richebourg, I was one of a ration-party being
+led back to the front line by a lance-corporal. The front line was a
+system of breast-works surrounded by old disused trenches filled with
+seven feet or so of icy-cold water.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very dark moonless night, and near the line our leader called
+out to those in the breast-works to ask them where the bridge was.
+He was told to step off by the broken tree. He did so and slid into the
+murky depths&mdash;the wrong tree!</p>
+
+<p>We got him out and he stood on dry (?) land, shining with moisture,
+full of strange oaths and vowing vengeance on the lad who had misdirected
+him.</p>
+
+<p>At stand-down in the dawn (hours afterwards) he was sipping his tot
+of rum. He had had no chance of drying his clothes. I asked how he
+felt.</p>
+
+<p>"Fresh as a pansy, mate," was his reply. "Won'erful 'ow a cold
+plunge bucks yer up! Blimey, I feel as if I could push a leave train
+from 'ere to the base. 'Ere, put yer 'and dahn my tunic and see if that's
+a tiddler ticklin' me back."&mdash;<i>F. J. Reidy (late 1st K.R.R.s), 119 Mayfair
+Avenue, Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Biscuits and Geometry</h3>
+
+<p>During a spell near St. Quentin our company existed chiefly on
+biscuits&mdash;much to the annoyance of one of our officers, who said he
+detested dogs' food.</p>
+
+<p>One evening he met the Cockney corporal who had just come up in
+charge of the ration party.</p>
+
+<p>Officer: "Any change to-night, corporal?"</p>
+
+<p>Corporal: "Yessir!"</p>
+
+<p>Officer: "Good! What have we got?"</p>
+
+<p>Corporal: "Rahnd 'uns instead of square 'uns, sir."&mdash;<i>R. Pitt (late
+M.G.C.), 54 Holland Park Avenue, W.11.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>All that was Wrong with the War</h3>
+
+<p>Taking up ammunition to the guns at Passchendaele Ridge, I
+met a few infantrymen carrying duckboards.</p>
+
+<p>My mule was rather in the way and so one of the infantrymen, who
+belonged to a London regiment, gave him a push with his duckboard.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally, the mule simply let out and kicked him into a shell-hole
+full of water.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i151.jpg" width="600" height="517" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... and that's mules."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>We got the unlucky fellow out, and his first action was to shake his fist
+at the mule and say: "There's only one thing I don't like in this blinking
+war and that's those perishin' mules!"&mdash;<i>H. E. Richards (R.F.A.),
+67 Topsham Road, Upper Tooting, S.W.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not a Single Cockney</h3>
+
+<p>In 1917, when we were acting as mobile artillery, we had halted by the
+roadside to water and feed our horses, and were just ready to move
+off when we were passed by a column of the Chinese Labour Corps, about
+2,000 of them.</p>
+
+<p>After they had all passed, a gunner from Clerkenwell said: "Would
+yer believe it? All that lot gorn by and I never reckernised a Townie!"&mdash;<i>C.
+Davis (late Sergeant, R.A., 3rd Cavalry Division), 7 Yew Tree
+Villas, Welling, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sanger's Circus on the Marne!</h3>
+
+<p>On the way from the Marne to the Aisne in September 1914 the
+5th Cavalry Brigade passed a column of Algerian native troops, who
+had been drawn up in a field to allow us to continue along the nearby
+road.</p>
+
+<p>The column had all the gaudy appearance of shop windows at Christmas.
+There were hooded vehicles with stars and crescents blazoned on them,
+drawn by bullocks, mules, and donkeys. The natives themselves were
+dressed, some in white robes and turbans, others in red "plus four"
+trousers and blue "Eton cut" jackets; and their red fezzes were adorned
+with stars and crescents. Altogether a picturesque sight, and one we did
+not expect to meet on the Western Front.</p>
+
+<p>On coming into view of this column, one of our lead drivers (from
+Bow) of a four-horse team drawing a pontoon wagon turned round to
+his wheel driver, and, pointing to the column with his whip, shouted,
+"Alf! Sanger's Circus!"&mdash;<i>H. W. Taylor (late R.E.), The Lodge, Radnor
+Works, Strawberry Vale, Twickenham.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Contemptible" Stuff</h3>
+
+<p>When the rumour reached us about a medal for the troops who went
+out at the beginning, a few of us were sitting in a dug-out outside
+Ypres discussing the news.</p>
+
+<p>"Mac" said: "I wonder if they'll give us anything else beside the
+medal?"</p>
+
+<p>Our Cockney, Alf, remarked: "You got a lot to say about this 'ere
+bloomin' 'gong' (medal); anybody 'd fink you was goin' ter git one."</p>
+
+<p>"I came out in September '14, any way," said Mac.</p>
+
+<p>Alf (very indignant): "Blimey, 'ark at 'im! You don't 'arf expect
+somefink, you don't. Why, the blinkin' war was 'arf over by then."&mdash;<i>J.
+F. Grey (late D.L.I, and R.A.O.C.), 247 Ducane Road, Shepherd's
+Bush, W.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Cockney on Horseback&mdash;-Just</h3>
+
+<p>We were going out to rest after about four months behind the guns
+at Ypres, and the drivers brought up spare horses for us to ride.
+One Cockney gunner was heard to say, "I can't ride; I've never rode an
+'orse in me life." We helped him to get mounted, but we had not gone
+far when Jerry started sending 'em over. So we started trotting. To
+see our Cockney friend hanging on with his arms round the horse's neck
+was quite a treat!</p>
+
+<p>However, we eventually got back to the horse lines where our hero,
+having fallen off, remarked: "Well, after that, I fink if ever I do get
+back to Blighty I'll always raise me 'at to an 'orse."&mdash;<i>A. Lepley (late
+R.F.A.), 133 Blackwell Buildings, Whitechapel, E.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Too Sociable Horse</h3>
+
+<p>We were asleep in our dug-out at Bray, on the Somme, in November
+1915. The dug-out was cut in the bank of a field where our horse
+lines were.</p>
+
+<p>One of the horses broke loose and, taking a fancy to our roof, which was
+made of brushwood and rushes, started eating it.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the roof gave way and the horse fell through, narrowly
+missing myself and my pal, who was also a Cockney.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i153.jpg" width="600" height="510" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"They want to come to bed wiv us."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After we had got over the shock my pal said, "Well, if that ain't the
+blinkin' latest. These long-eared blighters ain't satisfied with us looking
+after them&mdash;they want to come to bed with us."&mdash;<i>F. E. Snell (late 27th
+Brigade, R.F.A.), 22 Woodchester Street, Harrow Road, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>General Salute!</h3>
+
+<p>While "resting" at Bully-Grenay in the winter of 1916 I witnessed
+the following incident:</p>
+
+<p>Major-General &mdash;&mdash; and his A.D.C. were walking through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+village when an elderly Cockney member of a Labour battalion (a typical
+London navvy) stumbled out of an estaminet. He almost collided with
+the general.</p>
+
+<p>Quickly pulling himself together and exclaiming "Blimey, the boss!"
+he gave a very non-military salute; but the general, tactfully ignoring
+his merry condition, had passed on.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his pal's attempts to restrain him, he overtook the general,
+shouting "I did serlute yer, didn't I, guv'nor?"</p>
+
+<p>To which the general hastily replied: "Yes, yes, my man!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the Cockney, "here's anuvver!"&mdash;<i>A. J. K. Davis (late
+20th London Regt., att. 73rd M.G.C.), Minnis Croft, Reculver Avenue,
+Birchington.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wipers-on-Sea</h3>
+
+<p>Scene, "Wipers"; Time, winter of 1917.</p>
+
+<p>A very miserable-looking R.F.A. driver, wet to the skin, is riding
+a very weary mule through the rain.</p>
+
+<p>Voice from passing infantryman, in the unmistakable accent of Bow
+Bells: "Where y' goin', mate? Pier an' back?"&mdash;<i>A. Gelli (late H.A.C.),
+27 Langdon Park Road, Highgate, N.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Rescued His Shirt</h3>
+
+<p>During the latter stages of the war, with the enemy in full retreat,
+supply columns and stores were in most cases left far behind. Those
+in the advance columns, when marching through occupied villages, often
+"won" articles of underclothing to make up for deficiencies.</p>
+
+<p>Camberwell Alf had a couple of striped "civvy" shirts, and had lent a
+less fortunate battery chum one of these on the understanding that it
+would be returned in due course. The same evening the battery was
+crossing a pontoon bridge when a mule became frightened at the oscillation
+of the wooden structure, reared wildly, and pitched its rider over
+the canvas screen into the river.</p>
+
+<p>Camberwell Alf immediately plunged into the water and rescued his
+unfortunate chum after a great struggle.</p>
+
+<p>Later the rescued one addressed his rescuer: "Thank yer, Alf, mate."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't yer 'mate' me, yer blinkin' perisher!" Alf replied. "Wot
+the 'ell d'yer mean by muckin' abaht in the pahny (water) wiv my shirt
+on?"&mdash;<i>J. H. Hartnoll (late 30th Div. Artillery), 1 Durning Road, Upper
+Norwood, S.E.19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Smile from the Prince</h3>
+
+<p>One morning towards the end of May 1915, just before the battle of
+Festubert, my pal Bill and I were returning from the village bakery
+on the Festubert road to our billets at Gorre with a loaf each, which we
+had just bought.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Turning the corner into the village we saw approaching us a company
+of the Grenadier Guards in battle order, with a slim young officer at the
+head carrying a stick almost as tall as himself. Directly behind the
+officer was a hefty Guardsman playing "Tipperary" on a concertina.</p>
+
+<p>We saluted the officer, who, after spotting the loaves of bread under
+our arms, looked straight at us, gave us a knowing smile and acknowledged
+our salute. It was not till then that we recognised who the officer was.
+It was the Prince of Wales.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme!" said Bill. "There goes the Prince o' Wales hisself
+a-taking the guard to the Bank o' England!"&mdash;<i>J. F. Davis, 29 Faunce
+Street, S.E.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Just to Make Us Laugh"</h3>
+
+<p>We were one of those unlucky fatigue parties detailed to carry
+ammunition to the forward machine gun positions in the Ypres
+sector. We started off in the dusk and trudged up to the line. The
+transport dumped the "ammo" at a convenient spot and left us to it.
+Then it started raining.</p>
+
+<p>The communication trenches were up to our boot tops in mud, so
+we left them and walked across the top. The ground was all chalky
+slime and we slipped and slid all over the place. Within a very short
+time we were wet through and, to make matters worse, we occasionally
+slipped into shell-holes half full of water (just to relieve the monotony!).</p>
+
+<p>We kept this up all night until the "ammo" had all been delivered;
+then the order came to march back to billets at Dranoutre. It was still
+pouring with rain, and when we came to Shrapnel Corner we saw the
+famous notice board: "Avoid raising Dust Clouds as it draws Enemy's
+Shell Fire."</p>
+
+<p>We were new to this part of the line and, just then, the idea of raising
+dust clouds was extremely ludicrous.</p>
+
+<p>I asked my pal Jarvis, who came from Greenwich, what he thought
+they put boards like that up for. His reply was typically Cockney:
+"I 'spect they did that just to make us laugh, as we cawnt go to the
+picshures."&mdash;<i>Mack (late M.G.C.), Cathcart, The Heath, Dartford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>No Use Arguing with a Mule</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst "resting" after the Jerusalem battle, my battalion was
+detailed for road-making. Large stones were used for the foundation
+of the road and small and broken stones for the surface. Our job
+was to find the stones, <i>assisted</i> by mules.</p>
+
+<p>A mule was new to Joe Smith&mdash;a great-hearted boy from Limehouse
+way&mdash;but he must have heard about them for he gingerly approached
+the one allotted to him, and as gingerly led him away into the hills.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Joe was seen returning, but, to our amazement, he was
+struggling along with the loaded baskets slung across his own shoulders,
+and the mule was trailing behind. When I asked why <i>he</i> was carrying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+the load, he replied: "Well, I was loading 'im up wiv the stones, but he
+cut up rusty, so to save a lot of argument, I reckoned as 'ow I'd better
+carry the darned stones meself."&mdash;-<i>A. C. Wood, 56 Glasslyn Road, N.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Kissing Time</h3>
+
+<p>It was towards the end of '18, and we had got old Jerry well on the
+run. We had reached a village near Lille, which had been in German
+occupation, and the inhabitants were surging round us.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i156.jpg" width="600" height="552" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Take the rough with the smooth."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A corporal was having the time of his life, being kissed on both cheeks
+by the girls, but when it came to a bewhiskered French papa's turn the
+corporal hesitated. "Nah, then, corporal," shouted one of our boys,
+"be sporty! Take the rough with the smooth!"&mdash;-<i>G. H. Harris (late
+C.S.M., 8th London Regt.), 65 Nelson Road, South Chingford, E.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Playin' Soldiers"</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the Cambrai Salient, in support in the old Hindenburg
+Line. Close to us was a road where there were a ration dump
+and every other sort of dump. Everybody in the sector went through
+us to get rations, ammunition, stores, etc.</p>
+
+<p>There was just room in the trench for two men to pass. Snow had
+been on the ground for weeks, and the bottom of the trench was like
+glass. One night at stand-to the Drake Battalion crowded past us to get
+rations. On their return journey the leading man, with two sandbags of
+rations round his neck and a petrol can of water in each hand, fell over
+at every other step. Things were further complicated by a party of
+R.E.'s coming down the line with much barbed wire, in which this unfortunate
+"Drake" entangled himself.</p>
+
+<p>As he picked himself up for the umpteenth time, and without the least
+intention of being funny, I heard him say: "Well, if I ever catch that
+nipper of mine playin' soldiers, I won't 'arf knock 'is blinkin' block orf."&mdash;<i>A.
+M. B. (late Artists Rifles), Savage Club, W.C.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Per Carrier</h3>
+
+<p>During the occupation of the "foreshores of Gallipoli" in 1915
+the troops were suffering from shortage of water.</p>
+
+<p>I and six more, including Tich, were detailed to carry petrol cans full
+of water up to the front line. We had rather a rough passage over very
+hilly ground, and more than one of us tripped over stones that were
+strewn across the path, causing us to say a few strong words.</p>
+
+<p>By the time we reached our destination we were just about all in, and on
+being challenged "Halt; who goes there?" Tich answered: "Carter
+Paterson and Co. with 'Adam's ale,' all nice and frothy!"&mdash;<i>D. W.
+Jordan (late 1/5th Essex, 54th Division), 109a Gilmore Road, Lewisham,
+S.E.13.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Enemy" in the Wire</h3>
+
+<p>I was in charge of an advanced post on the Dorian front, Salonica,
+1917, which had been often raided by the Bulgars, and we were
+advised to be extra wary. In the event of an attack we were to fire a
+red flare, which was a signal for the artillery to put over a barrage.</p>
+
+<p>About 2 a.m. we heard a commotion in our wire, but, receiving no
+answer to our challenge, I decided to await further developments. The
+noise was soon repeated in a way that left no doubt in my mind that we
+were being attacked, so I ordered the section to open fire and sent up the
+signal for the guns.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine our surprise when, after all was quiet again, we heard the same
+noise in the wire. One of the sentries was a Cockney, and without a
+word he crawled over the parapet and disappeared in the direction of
+the noise.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later came the sound of smothered laughter, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+sentry returned with a hedgehog firmly fixed in an empty bully tin. It
+was the cause of our alarm!</p>
+
+<p>After releasing the animal from its predicament, the sentry said:
+"We'd better send the blighter to the Zoo, Corp, wiv a card to say 'this
+little pig put the wind up the troops, caused a fousand men to open
+fire, was bombed, machine-gunned, and shelled.' Blimey! I'd like to
+see the Gunner officer's face if he knew this."&mdash;<i>D. R. Payne, M.M. (ex-Worcester
+Regt.), 40 High Street, Overton, Hants.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Straight from the Heart</h3>
+
+<p>Under canvas at Rousseauville with 27th Squadron, R.F.C., early
+1918&mdash;wet season&mdash;raining hard&mdash;everything wet through and
+muddy&mdash;a "fed-up" gloomy feeling everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>We were trying to start a 3-ton lorry that was stuck in the mud on the
+aerodrome. After we had all had a shot at swinging the starting handle,
+the very Cockney driver of the lorry completely exhausted himself in yet
+another unsuccessful attempt to start up. Then, leaning against the
+radiator and pushing his cap back, he puffed out:</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno! These perishin' lorries are enough to take all the flamin'
+romance out of any blinkin' camp!"&mdash;<i>R. S. W. (Flying-Officer, R.A.F.
+Reserve), 52 Cavendish Road, N.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Smile! Smile! SMILE!!</h3>
+
+<p>Conversation between two Cockney members of a North Country
+regiment whilst proceeding along the Menin road in March 1918 as
+members of a wiring party:</p>
+
+<p>1st: I'm fed up with this stunt.</p>
+
+<p>2nd: Same 'ere. 'Tain't 'arf a life, ain't it? No rest, no beer,
+blinkin' leave stopped&mdash;er, got any fags?</p>
+
+<p>1st: No, mate.</p>
+
+<p>2nd: No fags, no nuffink. It's only us keepin' so ruddy cheerful as
+pulls us through.&mdash;<i>V. Marston, 232 Worple Road, Wimbledon, S.W.20.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>War's Lost Charm</h3>
+
+<p>Time, winter of 1917: scene, a track towards Langemarck from
+Pilkem. Weather and general conditions&mdash;Flanders at its worst.
+My companion that night was an N.C.O. "out since 'fourteen," and we
+had plodded on in silence for some time. Suddenly behind me there
+was a slither, a splash, and a smothered remark as the sergeant skidded
+from the duckboard into an especially dirty shell hole.</p>
+
+<p>I helped him out and asked if he was all right. The reply came, "I'm
+all right, sir; but this blinkin' war seems to have lost its charm!"&mdash;<i>J.
+E. A. Whitman (Captain, late R.F.A.), The Hampden Club, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Taking It Lying Down</h3>
+
+<p>The 1st Battalion of the 25th Londons was preparing to march into
+Waziristan.</p>
+
+<p>Old Bert, the cook, diligently loading up a kneeling camel with dixies,
+pots and pans, and general cooking utensils, paused for a bit, wiped the
+sweat from his brow, and stood back with arms akimbo gazing with
+satisfaction upon his work.</p>
+
+<p>Then he went up to the camel, gave him a gentle prod, and grunted
+"Ooush, yer blighter, ooush" (i.e. rise). The camel turned gently over
+on his back, unshipping the whole cargo that Bert had worked so hard
+upon, and kicked his legs in the air.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i159.jpg" width="600" height="434" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer kitten?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Poor old Bert looked at the wreckage and exclaimed, more in sorrow
+than in anger: "Blimey, don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer
+kitten?"&mdash;<i>T. F. Chanter, 16 Atalanta Street, Fulham.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The First Twenty Years</h3>
+
+<p>It was round about Christmas 1917, and we were resting (?) at
+"Dirty Bucket Corner." The Christmas present we all had in view
+was a return to the line in front of Ypres.</p>
+
+<p>On the day before we were due to return the Christmas post arrived,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+and after the excitement had abated the usual "blueness" settled in&mdash;the
+craving for home comforts and "Blighty."</p>
+
+<p>My partners in the stretcher-bearing squad included a meek and
+mild man (I believe he was a schoolmaster before the war) and a Cockney
+from Seven Dials. We used to call him "Townie."</p>
+
+<p>Although the ex-schoolmaster would have had cause in more normal
+times to rejoice&mdash;for the post contained a letter telling him that he
+had become the father of a bonny boy&mdash;the news made him morbid.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, we all congratulated him. Meanwhile "Townie" was
+busy with a pencil and writing pad, and after a few minutes handed to
+the new parent a sheet of paper folded in half. The recipient unfolded
+it and looked at it for several seconds before the rest of us became
+interested and looked over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>The paper was covered with lines, circles, and writing that appeared
+to us like "double-Dutch."</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" the father asked.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a map I drawed fer yer kid. It'll show him where the old
+pot and pan is when he's called up," and he concluded with this afterthought:
+"Tell 'im ter be careful of that ruddy shell-hole just acrost
+there. I've fallen in the perishin' thing twice this week."&mdash;<i>"Medico"
+(58th (London) Division), Clapham Common, S.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Shell as a Hammer</h3>
+
+<p>At one time the area just behind Vimy Ridge was plentifully sprinkled
+with enemy shells which had failed to explode. As these were considered
+a great source of danger they were indicated by "danger boards"
+nailed to pointed stakes driven into the ground.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion, seeing a man engaged in so marking the resting-place
+of a "dud"&mdash;he was a cheerful Cockney, who whistled as he went
+about his job&mdash;I was much amused (though somewhat scared) to see
+him stop at a nearby shell, select a "danger board," pick up the shell,
+and proceed to use it as a hammer to drive the stake into the ground!&mdash;<i>H.
+S. A. (late Lieut., Suffolk Regt.), Glebe Road, Cheam.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sore Feet</h3>
+
+<p>After the first battle of Ypres an old driver, whom we called
+"Krongie," had very bad feet, and one day reported sick at the
+estaminet where the M.O. held office.</p>
+
+<p>After the examination he ambled up the road, and when he was about
+50 yards away the M.O.'s orderly ran out and called: "Krongie, when you
+get to the column tell the farrier the M.O.'s horse has cast a shoe."</p>
+
+<p>"Krongie": "Ho, yus. You tell 'im ter give the blinkin' cheval a
+couple of number nines like he gave me for <i>my</i> feet."&mdash;<i>P. Jones (R.H.A.),
+6 Ennis Road, N.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>My Sword Dance&mdash;by the C.O.</h3>
+
+<p>A bitterly cold morning in winter, 1916, in the Ypres Salient. I
+was on duty at a gas alarm post in the front line when along came
+the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>He was the finest soldier and gentleman I ever had the pleasure to
+serve under (being an old soldier in two regiments before, I had
+experienced a few C.O.s). It was said he knew every man's name in the
+regiment. No officer dare start his own meal until every man of his
+company had been served. No fatigue or working party ever went up
+the line, no matter at what hour, without the colonel first inspected it.</p>
+
+<p>He had a mania for collecting spare ammunition, and more than once
+was seen taking up to the front line a roll of barbed wire over his shoulder
+hooked through his stick. To him every man was a son, and to the men's
+regret and officers' delight he soon became a general.</p>
+
+<p>This particular morning he approached me with "Good morning,
+Walker. You look cold. Had your rum?" To which I replied that
+I had, but it was a cold job remaining stationary for hours watching the
+wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the C.O., "do this with me." With that he started
+marking time at a quick pace on the duckboards and I did likewise. We
+kept it up for about two minutes, while others near had a good laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you feel better, I know. Do this every ten minutes or so,"
+he said, and away he went to continue his tour of inspection.</p>
+
+<p>My Cockney pal in the next bay, who, I noticed, had enjoyed the scene
+immensely, said, "Blimey, Jock, was he giving you a few lessons in the
+sword dance or the Highland Fling?"&mdash;<i>"Jock" Walker (late Royal
+Fusiliers), 29 Brockbank Road, Lewisham, S.E.13.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Big Bone in the Soup</h3>
+
+<p>In Baghdad, 1917, "Buzzer" Lee and I were told off to do "flying
+sentry" round the officers' lines from 3 to 5 a.m. Well, we commenced
+our duty, and Buzzer suggested we visit the mess kitchen to see all was
+well, and in case there was anything worth "knocking off" (as he called
+it) in the way of char or scran (tea or bread and butter).</p>
+
+<p>The mess kitchen was in darkness, and Buzzer began scrounging around.
+After a while he said: "I've clicked, mate! Soup in a dixie!" By
+the light of a match he found a cup, removed the dixie lid, and took a
+cup of the "soup."</p>
+
+<p>"We're in the market this time, mate," said Buzzer, and took out a
+cupful for me.</p>
+
+<p>"It don't taste like Wood's down the New Cut," I said, doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>He dipped the cup again and exclaimed: "'Ere, I've fahnd a big
+bone!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a new broom-head, however; it had been left in the dixie to
+soak for the night!&mdash;<i>G. H. Griggs (late Somerset L.I.), 3 Ribstone Street,
+Hackney, E.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I Shall have to Change Yer!"</h3>
+
+<p>In the Ypres Salient in July 1915 Headquarters were anxious to
+know which German regiment was facing us. An immense Cockney
+corporal, who was particularly good on patrol, was instructed to secure
+a prisoner.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 463px;">
+<img src="images/i162.jpg" width="463" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I shall have to take yer aht to-night and change yer."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After a night spent in No Man's Land he returned at dawn with a
+capture, an insignificant little German, trembling with fear, who stood
+about five foot nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Lifting him on to the fire-step and eyeing him critically, the corporal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+thus addressed him: "You won't do for our ole man; I shall have to
+take yer aht to-night and change yer!"&mdash;<i>S. Back, Merriams Farm, Leeds,
+near Maidstone.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Scots Reveille</h3>
+
+<p>Ours was the only kilted battalion in the division, and our bagpipes
+were often the subject of many humorous remarks from the other
+regiments.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 510px;">
+<img src="images/i163.jpg" width="510" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"There goes them perishin' 'toobs' agin."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>On one occasion, while we were out resting just behind the line at
+Château de la Haye, we were billeted opposite a London regiment. Very
+early in the morning the bagpipes would sound the Scottish reveille&mdash;a
+rather long affair compared with the usual bugle call&mdash;and it did not
+please our London friends to be awakened in this manner.</p>
+
+<p>One morning while I was on early duty, and just as the pipers were
+passing, a very dismal face looked out of a billet and announced to his
+pals inside, "There goes them perishin' 'toobs' again."&mdash;<i>Arthur R.
+Blampied, D.C.M. (late London Scottish), 47 Lyndhurst Avenue, Streatham
+Hill, S.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Negative</h3>
+
+<p>A battalion of the London Regiment had been having a particularly
+gruelling time in the trenches, but some of the men were cheered
+with thoughts of impending leave. In fact, permission for them to proceed
+home was expected at any moment.</p>
+
+<p>At this time the Germans started a "big push" in another sector, and
+all leave was suddenly cancelled.</p>
+
+<p>An N.C.O. broke the news to the poor unfortunates in the following
+manner: "All you blokes wot's going on leaf, ain't going on leaf, 'cause
+you're unlucky."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the great disappointment, this way of putting it amused
+even the men concerned. The real Cockney spirit!&mdash;<i>S. C., Brighton.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"An' That's All that 'Appened"</h3>
+
+<p>Before going up the line we were stationed at Etaples, and were
+rather proud of our cook-house, but one day the colonel told the
+sergeant-major that he had heard some of the most unparliamentary
+language he had ever heard in his life emanating from the cook-house.</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant-major immediately called at the cook-house to find out
+the cause of the trouble, but our Cockney cook was very indignant.
+"What, <i>me</i> Lord Mayor? [slang for 'swear']. No one's ever 'eard me
+Lord Mayor."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't lie to me," roared the sergeant-major. "What's happened
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nuffin'," said the cook, "except that I slopped a dixie full of 'ot
+tea dahn Bill's neck. I said 'Sorry, Bill,' and Bill said 'Granted, 'Arry,'
+an' that's all what's 'appened."&mdash;<i>Ryder Davies (late 1st Kent Cyclists,
+Royal West Kents), 20 Villa Road, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Watching them "Fly Past"</h3>
+
+<p>Our first big engagement was a counter-attack to recapture the
+trenches lost by the K.R.R.'s and R.B.'s on July 30, 1915, when
+"Jerry" used liquid fire for the first time and literally burned our chaps
+out.</p>
+
+<p>To get into action we had to go across open country in full view of the
+enemy. We began to get it "in the neck" as soon as we got to "Hell
+Fire Corner," on our way to Zillebeke Lake. Our casualties were heavy,
+caused by shell fire, also by a German aeroplane which was flying very low
+overhead and using its machine gun on us.</p>
+
+<p>My pal, Wally Robins (later awarded M.M., promoted corporal, and
+killed at Lens), our company humorist, was looking up at the 'plane
+when a shell landed, killing several men in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>As he fell I thought he too had caught it. I rushed to him anxiously
+and said, "Are you hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>This was his reply: "I should think I am. I wish they would keep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+their bloomin' aeroplanes out of the way. If I hadn't been looking up at
+that I shouldn't have fallen over that blinkin' barbed wire stake."&mdash;<i>E.
+W. Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Battn., D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace
+Road, Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>High Necks and Low</h3>
+
+<p>After the first Battle of Ypres in 1914 the Scots Guards were being
+relieved by a well-known London regiment.</p>
+
+<p>A diminutive Cockney looked up at a six-foot Guardsman and asked
+him what it was like in the front line.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 457px;">
+<img src="images/i165.jpg" width="457" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Oo's neck?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Up to your neck in mud," said the Guardsman.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey, oo's neck?" asked the little chap.&mdash;<i>H. Rogers (late 116th
+Battery, 1st Div. R.F.A.), 10 Ashley Road, Richmond, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Too Light&mdash;by One Rissole</h3>
+
+<p>During the night before my Division (21st) attacked, on October 4,
+1917, my unit was in the tunnel under the road at "Clapham
+Junction," near Hooge.</p>
+
+<p>Rations having failed to arrive, each man was given a rissole and a
+packet of chewing-gum. We went over about 6 a.m., and, despite rather
+severe losses, managed to push our line forward about 1,300 yards.</p>
+
+<p>When we were back in "rest" dug-outs at Zillebeke, our officer
+happening to comment on our "feed" prior to the attack, my mate said:
+"Yus. Blinkin' good job for old Jerry we never had two rissoles a man&mdash;we
+might have shoved him back to Berlin!"&mdash;<i>C. Hartridge, 92 Lancaster
+Street, S.E.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Psyche&mdash;"at the Barf!"</h3>
+
+<p>I was billeting at Witternesse, near Aire, for a battery coming out of
+the line for rest and training prior to the August 1918 push.</p>
+
+<p>I was very anxious to find a place where the troops could have a much-needed
+bath. The only spot was a barn, in which were two rusty old
+iron baths.</p>
+
+<p>Further inspection showed that one was in use. On being asked who
+he was, the occupant stood up and replied in a Cockney voice: "Sikey at
+the Barf!"&mdash;<i>H. Thomas, "Ivydene," Herne Grove, East Dulwich, S.E.22.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Juggler's Struggles</h3>
+
+<p>We were disembarking at Ostend in 1914. Each man was expected
+to carry as much stores as he could. Our Cockney Marine was
+struggling down the gangway&mdash;full marching order, rifle slung round
+his neck, kitbag under his arm, and a box in each hand.</p>
+
+<p>As he balanced the boxes we heard him mutter, "S'pose, if I juggle
+this lot orlright they'll poke annuver in my mouf."&mdash;<i>Thomas Bilson
+(late Colour-Sergeant, Royal Marines), 56 The Strand, Walmer, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Almost a Wireless Story</h3>
+
+<p>Sir Sidney Lawford was to inspect our wagon lines in Italy,
+and we had received notice of his coming. Consequently we had
+been up since about 5 a.m. making things ship-shape.</p>
+
+<p>One of the fatigues had been picking up all the spare wire lying about&mdash;wire
+from hay and straw bales, telephone wire, barbed wire, wire
+from broken hop poles, miscellaneous wire of all sorts.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Sidney Lawford arrived about 11 a.m. with a number of his staff,
+dismounted ... and promptly tripped over a piece of wire. Imagine
+our chagrin. However, the feeling passed away when a Cockney driver
+(evidently one of the wire-collecting fatigue) said in a voice audible to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+everyone as he peeped from under the horse he was supposed to be
+grooming: "Blimey, if he ain't fallen over the only piece of blinking
+wire in Italy!"&mdash;<i>F. Praid (late Lieut., R.F.A., 41st Div.), 88a High
+Street, Staines.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>When the S.M. Got Loose</h3>
+
+<p>We were behind the lines at Merville in 1914. It was raining hard
+and it was night. "Smudger" Smith, from Lambeth, was on
+night guard. The horses were pulling their pegs out of the mud and
+getting loose, and "Smudger" was having a busy time running around
+and catching them and knocking the pegs in again with a mallet.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i167.jpg" width="600" height="478" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The sergeant-major, with a waterproof sheet over his head, visited the
+lines. "Smudger," seeing something moving about in the dark, crept
+up, and muttered, "Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"&mdash;and down
+went the sergeant-major.&mdash;<i>W.S. (late Queen's Bays), 2 Winsover Road,
+Spalding.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mons, 1914&mdash;Not Moscow, 1812!</h3>
+
+<p>In 1914 we of the 2nd Cavalry Brigade were going up to support the
+infantry somewhere near Mons, and when nearing our destination we
+saw several wounded being carried from the line.</p>
+
+<p>Following them, seemingly quite unconcerned, was an infantry transport
+driver, who cut a queer figure. He was wearing a stocking hat,
+and was mounted on an old mule. Thrown over the mule, with the
+tail-end round the mule's neck, was a German's blood-bespattered overcoat.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 455px;">
+<img src="images/i168.jpg" width="455" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Napoleon's retreat from Moscow ain't in it wiv this!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of our troop addressed the rider thus: "Many up there, mate?"</p>
+
+<p>He answered: "Millions! You 'ave a go. We can't shift 'em.
+They've took root, I fink."</p>
+
+<p>He then dug both heels into the mule and, looking round with a bored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+expression, exclaimed: "Talk about Napoleon's blinkin' retreat from
+Moscow, it ain't ruddy well in it wiv this!"</p>
+
+<p>And he rode on.&mdash;<i>W. Baker (late 3rd Hussars), 35 Tunstall Road,
+Brixton, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The S.M. knew "Mulese"</h3>
+
+<p>During the Somme offensive in 1916 I was one of a party carrying
+rations up to the front line. We came upon a mule which was having
+a few pranks and pulling the chap who was leading it all over the road.</p>
+
+<p>This man turned out to be an old Cockney pal of mine in the East
+Surreys. I said, "Hello, Jim, what's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," he replied, "'e won't do nuffink for me, so I'm taking 'im
+back to our sergeant-major, as 'e talks the mule langwidge."&mdash;<i>C. A.
+Fairhead (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 16 Council Cottages, Ford Corner, Yapton,
+Sussex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lost: One Star</h3>
+
+<p>We were on our way to the front line trenches one wet and dreary
+night when our subaltern realised that we were lost. He asked our
+sergeant if he could see the North Star. My Cockney pal, fed up, as we
+all were, turned to me and said: "Pass the word back and ask if anyone
+'as got a Nawth Star in his pocket."&mdash;<i>H. J. Perry, 42 Wells House Road,
+Willesden Junction, N.W.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Simpler than Sounding It</h3>
+
+<p>After leaving Gallipoli in December 1915 our battalion (4th Essex)
+were in camp near the pyramids in Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>"Pro Tem." we reverted to peace-time routine, and brought the
+buglers into commission again. One bugler was making a rather rotten
+show at sounding the "fall-in"&mdash;his "lip" being out of practice, I
+suppose&mdash;when a bored Cockney roared out, "Go rahnd and tell 'em."&mdash;<i>H.
+Barlow, 5 Brooklands, Abbs Cross Lane, Hornchurch.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Under the Cart</h3>
+
+<p>The place was a rest billet, which we had just reached after a gruelling
+on the Somme. Time, 12.30 a.m., dark as pitch and pouring with
+rain.</p>
+
+<p>A despatch-rider arrived with an "urgent" message from H.Q.,
+"Must have the number of your water-cart."</p>
+
+<p>Out of bed, or its substitute, were brought the regimental sergeant-major,
+the orderly-room clerk, and the quartermaster-sergeant (a director
+of a London shipping firm bearing his name). All the light we had was
+the end of a candle, and as the Q.M.S. was crawling in the mud under the
+water-cart trying to find the number the candle flickered, whereupon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+Cockney sergeant-major exclaimed: "For Heaven's sake, stop that candle
+from flickerin', or our blinkin' staff will think we're signalling to Jerry!"</p>
+
+<p>The look on the Q.M.S.'s face as he sat in the mud made even the soaked
+despatch-rider laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the number of your water-cart?" became a byword with the
+boys.&mdash;<i>W. J. Smallbone (late R.M.S., 56th Field Ambulance, 18th Division),
+22 Stoneycroft Road, Woodford Bridge, Woodford Green, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Lion Laughed up his Sleeve</h3>
+
+<p>I had been driving a lorry all day in the East African bush with a
+Cockney escort. When we "parked" for the night I invited the escort
+to sleep under cover in the lorry, as I was going to do. But he refused,
+saying proudly that he had slept in the open since he had landed in Africa.
+So, undressing, he proceeded to make the rim of the rear wheel his pillow,
+covering himself with a blanket and greatcoat.</p>
+
+<p>About 1 a.m. I was awakened by hearing someone climbing over the
+tail-board. Responding to my challenge the Cockney said: "It's all
+right. The blighter's been and pinched my blanket and greatcoat.
+It's a good job I had my shirt on." We found next morning that a
+lion had run off with them: about 100 yards away they lay, and one
+sleeve was torn out of the coat.&mdash;<i>H. J. Lake, 40a Chagford Street, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Carman's Sarcasm</h3>
+
+<p>While our allies, the Portuguese, were holding part of the line to
+the left of Festubert, a Portuguese officer rode up on the most
+emaciated and broken-down old "crock" I had set eyes on.</p>
+
+<p>He dismounted and was looking round for somewhere to tether the
+horse, when one of our drivers, a Cockney carman in "civvy" life,
+cast a critical eye over the mount and bawled out, "Don't worry abaht
+tying it up, mate. <i>Lean it up agin this 'ere fence.</i>"&mdash;<i>A. G. Lodge (Sergeant,
+25th Division Artillery), 12 Derinton Road, S.W.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Burying a Lorry</h3>
+
+<p>During the Battle of the Somme, near Ginchy, a R.A.S.C. motor-lorry
+ran off the main track in the darkness and got stuck in the
+mud. The driver came to our battery near by and asked for help, so
+six gunners and I volunteered and set out with shovels.</p>
+
+<p>On arriving at the scene, there was the motor-lorry almost buried to
+the top of the wheels. We all stood around surveying the scene in
+silence, wondering how best to make a start, when the Cockney member
+of the volunteer party burst out with: "Lummy, the quickest way
+out of this is to shovel some more blinkin' dirt on top, an' bury it."&mdash;<i>H.
+Wright (ex-Sig./Bdr., C/74 Bde., R.F.A.), 45 Colehill Lane, Fulham,
+S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Striking a Bargain</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of the Narrows at the Dardanelles (March 18,
+1915) I was in charge of No. 3 stokehold in H.M.S. <i>Vengeance</i>. The
+front line of ships engaged consisted of <i>Irresistible</i>, <i>Ocean</i>, <i>Vengeance</i>, and
+an old French battleship, the <i>Bouvet</i>. The stokers off watch were the
+ambulance party and fire brigade.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i171.jpg" width="600" height="559" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Give us yer week's 'navy' and I'll let yer aht."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>When the battle was at its height one of the fire brigade, a Cockney,
+kept us informed of what was going on, and this is the news we received
+down the ash hoist:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ocean</i> and <i>Irresistible</i> 'as gorn darn, the Froggy's gone up in smoke:
+our blinkin' turn next.</p>
+
+<p>"Pat, give us yer week's 'navy' (rum ration) and I'll lift this bloomin'
+'atch (armoured grating) and let yer aht!"&mdash;<i>"Ajax," 23 King's Drive,
+Gravesend, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bugling in 'Indoostanee</h3>
+
+<p>After the evacuation of Gallipoli a transport was conveying
+British troops to Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>The O.C. wanted a trumpeter or bugler to follow him around during
+the daily lifeboat parade and to sound the "Dismiss" at the end. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+only one available was an Indian trumpeter, who had not blown a
+trumpet or bugle since 1914. He was ordered for the duty.</p>
+
+<p>On the first day, immediately after the inspection was over, the O.C.
+gave orders for the trumpeter to sound the "Dismiss." After the
+trumpeter had finished, the O.C., with a look of astonishment on
+his face, gasped, "What's that? I never heard it sounded like that
+before."</p>
+
+<p>Came a Cockney voice from the rear rank, "'E sounded it in 'Indoostanee,
+sir."&mdash;<i>M. C., Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"For 'eaven's sake, stop sniffin'!"</h3>
+
+<p>Our sector of the line at Loos was anticipating a raid by the Germans
+and the whole battalion was ordered to "stand to" all night.</p>
+
+<p>Double sentries were posted at intervals of a few feet with orders
+to report any suspicious shadows in No Man's Land.</p>
+
+<p>All eyes and ears were strained in an effort to locate any movement
+in the darkness beyond the parapet.</p>
+
+<p>Strict silence was to be maintained, and the guns had been ordered
+to hang fire so that we might give the Germans a surprise welcome if
+they came over.</p>
+
+<p>The ominous stillness was broken at last by a young Cockney saying
+to his pal standing with him on the fire-step: "For 'Eaven's sake,
+stop sniffin', Porky. How d'yer fink we'll 'ear Jerry if he comes acrorst?"&mdash;<i>C.
+J. Blake, 29a Collingbourne Road, Shepherd's Bush, W.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Babes in the Salonika Wood</h3>
+
+<p>I was with the Salonika Force on the Dorian front. One night while
+an important raid was on my platoon was told off to seize a big wood
+between the lines and make sure it was clear of Bulgars, who could otherwise
+have enfiladed the main raiding party.</p>
+
+<p>The orders were "absolute silence, and no firing unless the other side
+fires first." I halted my men behind a fold in the ground near the wood
+and called up two men and told them to creep forward and see if the wood
+was occupied.</p>
+
+<p>It was nasty work as the first news of any Bulgars would almost
+certainly have been a bayonet in the back from somebody perfectly
+concealed behind a tree.</p>
+
+<p>I asked them if the instructions were quite clear and one of them,
+Charlie, from Limehouse, whispered back:</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir! We're going to be the Babes in the Wood, and if the Wicked
+Uncles is out to-night we don't fire unless they fires first. Come on,
+George (to his companion), there's going to be some dirty work for the
+Little Robin Redbreasts to-morrer!"&mdash;<i>A. Forsyth (late Army Cyclist
+Corps), 65 St. Martin's Lane, W.C.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bringing it Home to Him</h3>
+
+<p>For several months in 1917 matches were rationed in a Y.M.C.A.
+rest-camp canteen, somewhere in France. There entered during this
+time a war-worn Cockney, a drawn, tired look still in his eyes, and the
+mud of the trenches on his uniform and boots. He asked for cigarettes
+and matches, and was told there were no matches.</p>
+
+<p>"Wot, no matches? 'Ow am I goin' ter light me fags, miss?"</p>
+
+<p>"You see matches are rationed now," I said, "and the few we are
+allowed run out at once."</p>
+
+<p>With a weary sigh, as if a great truth had dawned upon him, he said
+pathetically:</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme, that do bring the war 'ome to a bloke, don't it, miss?"&mdash;<i>Miss
+H. Campbell, Pennerly Lodge, Beaulieu, Hants.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>After the Feast</h3>
+
+<p>The company dinner on Christmas Day 1917 was eaten in a large
+barn at Ribemont, on the Somme, and before this extra special feast
+began an affable "old sweat," one Billy Williams, of London Town,
+volunteered for the clearing-up party.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long sitting and some considerable time before the men
+began to wander back to their billets, and it fell to the most capable
+of the orderlies to clear up the debris.</p>
+
+<p>This had just been accomplished to the satisfaction of the orderly
+officer when out of the barn strode old Billy carrying a dixie full of beer.
+"Where are you going with that, Williams?" asked the officer.</p>
+
+<p>Springing smartly to attention, and with a pained look upon his face,
+old Billy replied: "This 'ere, sir? Sick man in the 'ut, sir!"&mdash;<i>R. E.
+Shirley (late The London Regiment), 5 Staunton Road, Kingston, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wait for the "Two Pennies, Please"</h3>
+
+<p>Near the River Struma, on the Salonika front, in March 1917 our
+brigade H.Q. was on the extreme right of the divisional artillery and
+near a French artillery brigade.</p>
+
+<p>For the purpose of maintaining communication a French telephonist
+was quartered in our dug-out. Whenever he wished to get into communication
+with his headquarters he unmercifully thumped the field
+telephone and in an excitable voice called out: "<i>'Ullo, mon capitaine</i>,"
+five or six times in half as many seconds.</p>
+
+<p>Greatly impressed by one of these sudden outbursts, the adjutant's
+batman&mdash;a typical Cockney&mdash;exclaimed in a hurt voice: "Nah then,
+matey, jest cool yerself a bit till the young lidy tells yer to put in yer two
+coppers!"&mdash;<i>F. G. Pickwick (301 Brigade R.F.A.), 100 Hubert Grove,
+Stockwell, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The General Goes Skating</h3>
+
+<p>One horribly wet day during the winter of 1915 I met the Brigadier
+paying his morning visit to the front line and accompanied him
+along my section of the trench. Entering one fire-bay, the gallant
+General slipped and sat down uncommonly hard in the mud.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px;">
+<img src="images/i174.jpg" width="525" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ere, chum, get up; this ain't a skatin' rink."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Discipline stifled any desire on my part for mirth, but to my horror,
+the sentry in that bay, without turning away from his periscope, called
+over his shoulder in unmistakable Cockney accents: "'Ere, chum,
+get up; this ain't a blinkin' skatin' rink!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Fortunately the General's sense of humour was equal to the occasion,
+and he replied to the now horror-stricken sentry with an affable "Quite."&mdash;<i>"Company
+Commander," Orpington, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"To Top Things Up"</h3>
+
+<p>During the early part of 1916 a few picked men from the North Sea
+Fleet were sent on a short tour of the Western Front to get an accurate
+idea of the work of the sister Service. One or two of these men were
+attached to my company for a few days in January when we were at
+Givenchy&mdash;a fairly lively spot at that time. The morning after their
+arrival there was some pretty heavy firing and bombing, which soon died
+down to normal.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the day, as I was passing down the line, I asked one of our
+guests (an out-and-out Londoner) what he thought of things. He shook
+his head mournfully. "I thought the blighters was coming over after
+all that gun-fire this morning, sir," he said. "I been in a naval action;
+I been submarined; I been bombed by aeroplanes; and, blimey, I
+did 'ope I'd be in a bay'nit charge, just to top things up."&mdash;<i>L. V. Upward
+(late Capt. R.N.), 14 Lyndhurst Road, Hampstead, N.W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Luck in the Family</h3>
+
+<p>A cockney R.A.S.C. driver had been knocked down and badly
+injured by a staff-officer's car.</p>
+
+<p>On recovering consciousness in hospital, he highly amused the doctor
+by exclaiming, "Well, me gran'farver was kicked by a Derby winner,
+me farver knew Dr. Crippen, an' 'ere's me gets a blighty orf a brass-'at's
+Rolls-bloomin'-Royce. It's funny 'ow luck runs in famblys!"&mdash;<i>J. F. C.,
+Langdon Park Road, N. 6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I'm Drownded"</h3>
+
+<p>We were going into the line in front of Cambrai, in November 1917,
+and were walking in single file. The night was pitch black.
+Word came down at intervals from the leading file, "'Ware wire,"
+"'Ware shell-hole."</p>
+
+<p>My pal, a Cockney, was in front of me. Suddenly I heard a muffled
+curse&mdash;he had deviated and paid the penalty by falling into a particularly
+deep shell-hole filled with mud and water.</p>
+
+<p>I stumbled to the edge of the hole and peered down and saw his face.
+I asked him if he was all right, and back came the reply, "Blimey, I'm
+drownded, so let the missus know I died like a sailor."</p>
+
+<p>Three days later he did die ... like a soldier.&mdash;<i>Ex-Rfn. John S.
+Brown, 94 Masterman Road, East Ham, E.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not a New World's Wonder</h3>
+
+<p>The regiment had reached Hebuterne after marching from St. Amand,
+and a party of us was detailed to carry stuff up to the front line.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 451px;">
+<img src="images/i176.jpg" width="451" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"There's only seven wonders."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of our number, a hefty Cockney, besides being in full marching
+order, had a bag of bombs and a couple of screw pickets. A sergeant
+then handed him some petrol tins. With a look of profound disgust, the
+Cockney dropped the tins and remarked, "Chuck it, mate; there's only
+seven wonders in this blinkin' world."&mdash;<i>W. G. H. Cox (late 16th London
+Regt.), 9 Longstaff Crescent, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lads of the Village</h3>
+
+<p>While en route from the Western to the Italian front we were held
+up at an Italian wayside station and, hearing that we had some time
+to wait, our cook says, "Nah's our chance to make some tea."</p>
+
+<p>So we dragged our boiler on to the end of the platform, scrounged some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+wood, and soon had the fire going and the water on the boil. "Nah we
+will get the tea and sugar," says the cook. When we returned we found
+that the chimney of the boiler had disappeared, smoke and flames were
+roaring up, and the water was ruined by soot.</p>
+
+<p>An Italian soldier was standing by, looking on. "Somebody's pinched
+our chimbley," gasped the cook, "and I've got an idea that this Italian
+fellow knows somefing abaht it."</p>
+
+<p>Back came the reply from the Italian, in pure Cockney: "I ain't
+pinched yer chimbley, mate!"</p>
+
+<p>"What! yer speak our lingo?" says the cook. "What part of the
+Village do yer come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Clerkenwell," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Give us yer mitt," says the cook. "I'm from the same parish. And
+nah I knows that yer couldn't 'ave pinched our chimbley. It must have
+been one of them scrounging Cockneys."&mdash;<i>H. Howard, 26 Hanover Street,
+Islington, N.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Before 1914, When Men Worked</h3>
+
+<p>Night after night, for three weeks, with never a night off, we took
+ammunition up for the guns at Ypres in 1917. Sometimes we
+couldn't get back until 5 a.m. or 6 a.m.&mdash;and the day was spent feeding
+and grooming the horses, cleaning harness, and a hundred odd jobs
+besides.</p>
+
+<p>We had built a bit of a shack, and in this I was writing a letter home,
+and one of my drivers noticed my handwriting on the envelope.</p>
+
+<p>"Coo, Corp! You can't 'arf write! 'Ow did yer learn it?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>I told him I had been in an insurance office before I joined up.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme!" he exclaimed, "did yer <i>work</i> once, Corp?"&mdash;<i>David
+Phillips (late R.F.A.), The Ship Inn, Soham, near Ely, Cambridgeshire.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Their Fatigue</h3>
+
+<p>In August 1915, our Division was moved to the Loos area in preparation
+for the battle which began on September 25, and I well remember the
+long march which brought us to our destination&mdash;the mining village of
+N&oelig;ux-les-Mines, about a mile from Mazingarbe.</p>
+
+<p>We ended the hard and tiring journey at a spot where a huge slag-heap
+towered above our heads to a height of seventy or eighty feet.
+On our arrival here there were the usual fatigue parties to parade, and
+with everyone tired and weary this was an unthankful duty.</p>
+
+<p>The youngest Cockney in my section, who was always cheerful, hearing
+me detailing men for fatigue, shouted out, "Come on, mites; paride
+with spoons and mess-tins. The blinking fattygue party will shift this
+perishin' slag-heap from 'ere to Mazingarbe."&mdash;<i>Herbert W. Bassett
+(Cpl. attached 47th London Division), 41 Argyle Road, Sevenoaks, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Teaching Bulgars the Three-card Trick</h3>
+
+<p>At Butkova, on the right of Lake Doiran, in 1917, we had surprised
+the Bulgar and had pushed forward as far as the foot of the
+Belashitsa Mountains, the reserve position of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>After a sharp encounter we retired, according to plan, and on the
+return to our lines we heard murmurings in a nullah to our right.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i178.jpg" width="600" height="530" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Find der lidy&mdash;dere you are&mdash;over yer go&mdash;under yer go&mdash;nah find 'er!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Motioning to me and the section corporal, our platoon commander
+advanced cautiously towards the nullah and you can imagine our
+surprise when we discovered "Dido" Plumpton calmly showing the
+"three-card trick" to the two Bulgar prisoners he had been detailed
+to escort. He was telling his mystified audience: "Find der lidy&mdash;dere
+you are&mdash;over yer go&mdash;under yer go&mdash;<i>nah</i> find 'er!"&mdash;<i>Alfred
+Tall (late 2nd East Kents), 204 Hoxton Street, N.1.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="HOSPITAL" id="HOSPITAL">3. HOSPITAL</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>"Tich" Meets the King</h3>
+
+<p>In a large ward in a military hospital in London there was a little
+Cockney drummer boy of eighteen years who had lost both legs from
+shell fire. In spite of his calamity and the suffering he endured from
+numerous operations for the removal of bone, he was one of the cheeriest
+boys in the ward.</p>
+
+<p>At that time many men in the ward had limbs amputated because of
+frost-bite, and it was quite a usual thing for a visitor to remark, "Have
+you had frost-bite?"</p>
+
+<p>Nothing made Tich so furious as the suggestion that he should have
+lost his limbs by any, to his mind, second-rate way. If he were asked,
+"Have you had frost-bite?" he would look up with disgust and reply,
+"Naow&mdash;-a flea bit me!" If, however, he was asked, "Were you
+wounded?" he would smile and say, "Not 'arf!"</p>
+
+<p>A visit was expected from the King, and the Tommies kept asking
+Tich what he would say if the King said, "Have you had frost-bite?"
+"You wite!" said Tich.</p>
+
+<p>I was standing with the Sister near to Tich in his wheel-chair when the
+King approached. His Majesty at once noticed Tich was legless, and
+said in his kind way, "Well, my man, how are you getting on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Splendid, sir!" said Tich.</p>
+
+<p>"How did it happen?" asked the King.</p>
+
+<p>"Wounded, sir&mdash;shell," replied Tich, all smiles.</p>
+
+<p>Tich's opinion of the King soared higher than ever.&mdash;-<i>M. A. Kennedy
+(late V.A.D., Royal Military Hospital, Woolwich), 70 Windmill Hill,
+Enfield, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Putting the Lid on It</h3>
+
+<p>It was "clearing day" at the 56th General Hospital, Wimereux.
+Nurses and orderlies were having a busy morning getting ready the
+patients who were going to Blighty. Nearly all of them had been taken
+out to the waiting ambulances except my Cockney friend in the bed
+next to mine, who had just had an arm amputated and was very ill.</p>
+
+<p>Two orderlies came down the ward bearing a stretcher with an oblong
+box fixed on to it (to prevent jolting while travelling). They placed it
+beside my friend's bed, and, having dressed him, put him in the box on
+the stretcher. Then a nurse wrapped him up in blankets, and after she
+had finished she said: "There you are. Feeling nice and comfortable?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," said he, "but don't put the lid on before I have kissed the
+orderly good-bye."&mdash;<i>E. C., Hackney, E.8.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Riddled in the Sands</h3>
+
+<p>One of the finest exhibitions of Cockney spirit I saw during the
+war occurred in Mesopotamia after the Battle of Shaiba (April
+1915), in which we had completely routed the Turkish army.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i180.jpg" width="600" height="482" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full of holes I'd be sure to sink."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>We were busy evacuating the wounded in boats across the six-mile
+stretch of water which separated us from Basra. A sergeant who had
+been hit by no fewer than six machine-gun bullets was brought down in a
+stretcher to be put in one of the boats. As I superintended this man&oelig;uvre
+he said to me: "Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full of holes
+I'd be sure to sink!"&mdash;<i>F. C. Fraser (Lieut.-Col., Ind. Med. Service),
+309 Brownhill Road, Catford, S.E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Season!</h3>
+
+<p>A cockney soldier, badly hit for the third time, was about to be
+carried once more on board the ambulance train at Folkestone.
+When the bearers came to his stretcher, one said to the other, "What's
+it say on his ticket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Season!" said a voice from the stretcher.&mdash;<i>Rev. A. T. Greenwood,
+Wallington, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Where's the Milk and Honey?</h3>
+
+<p>A medical Officer of a London division in Palestine was explaining
+to a dying Cockney in his field ambulance at Bethlehem how sorry he
+was that he had no special comforts to ease his last moments, when the
+man, with a cheery grin, remarked: "Oh, that's all right, sir. Yer
+reads as 'ow this 'ere 'Oly Land is flowing with milk and 'oney; but
+I ain't seen any 'oney myself, and in our battery there's 15 men to a tin
+o' milk."&mdash;<i>E. T. Middleton, 32 Denmark Road, West Ealing, W.13.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Lunnon"</h3>
+
+<p>He was my sergeant-major. Having on one occasion missed death
+literally by inches, he said coolly: "Them blighters can't 'it 'arf
+as smart as my missus when she's roused." I last saw him at Charing
+Cross Station. We were both casualties. All the way from Dover he
+had moaned one word&mdash;"Lunnon." At Charing Cross they laid his
+stretcher beside mine. He was half conscious. Suddenly he revived
+and called out, his voice boyish and jolly: "Good 'ole Charin' Crawss,"
+and fell back dead.&mdash;<i>G. W. R., Norwich, Norfolk.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sparing the M.O.</h3>
+
+<p>It was during some open warfare in France. The scene a small room
+full of badly wounded men; all the remainder have been hurriedly
+removed, or rather, not brought in here. There are no beds; the men
+lie on the floor close together.</p>
+
+<p>I rise to stretch my back after dressing one. My foot strikes another
+foot. A yell of agony&mdash;the foot was attached to a badly shattered thigh.</p>
+
+<p>An insistent, earnest chorus: "You <i>didn't</i> 'urt him, sir. 'E often
+makes a noise like that."</p>
+
+<p>I feel a hand take mine, and, looking down, I see it in the grasp of a
+man with three gaping wounds. "It <i>wasn't</i> your fault, sir," he says, in a
+fierce, hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p>And then I realise that not a soul in that room but takes it for granted
+that my mental anguish for my stupidity is greater than his own physical
+pain, and is doing his best to deaden it for me&mdash;one, at any rate, at great
+cost to himself.</p>
+
+<p>In whose ranks are the world's great gentlemen?&mdash;<i>"The Clumsy
+Fool," Guy's Hospital, E.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Robbery with Violence"</h3>
+
+<p>A Cockney soldier had his leg shattered. When he came round
+in hospital the doctors told him they had been obliged to take his
+leg off.</p>
+
+<p>"Taken my leg off? Blimey! Where is it? Hi, wot yer done
+wiv it? Fer 'Eaven's sake, find my leg, somebody; it's got seven
+and a tanner in the stocking."&mdash;<i>S. W. Baker, 23 Trinity Road, Bedford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Seven His Lucky Number</h3>
+
+<p>Scene: the plank road outside St. Jean. Stretcher-bearers bringing
+down a man whose left leg had been blown away below the knee. A
+man coming up recognises the man on the stretcher, and the following
+conversation ensues:</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Bill!" Then, catching sight of the left leg: "Blimey!
+You ain't 'arf copped it."</p>
+
+<p>The Reply: A faint smile, a right hand feebly pointing to the left
+sleeve already bearing <i>six</i> gold stripes, and a hoarse voice which said,
+"Anuvver one, and seven's me lucky number."&mdash;<i>S. G. Wallis Norton,
+Norton House, Peaks Hill, Purley.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Blind Man's Buff</h3>
+
+<p>The hospital ship <i>Dunluce Castle</i>, on which I was serving, was
+taking the wounded and sick from Gallipoli. Among the wounded
+brought on board one evening was a man who was badly hurt about his
+face. Our M.O. thought the poor chap's eyes were sightless.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine our surprise when, in the morning, finding that his eyes
+were bandaged, he pulled himself to a sitting posture in bed, turned
+his head round and cried out, "S'y, boys, who's fer a gime of blind man's
+buff?"</p>
+
+<p>I am glad to say that the sight of one eye was saved.&mdash;<i>F. T. Barley,
+24, Station Avenue, Prittlewell, Southend.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Self-Supporting</h3>
+
+<p>After being wounded at Ypres in July 1917, I was being sent
+home. When we were all aboard, an orderly came round with life-belts.</p>
+
+<p>When he got to the next stretcher to me, on which lay a man who had
+his arm and leg in splints, he asked the usual question ("Can you look
+after yourself if anything happens going across?"), and received the
+faint answer: "Lumme, mate, I've enough wood on me to make a raft."&mdash;<i>A.
+E. Fuller (36th Battery R.F.A.), 21 Pendragon Road, Downham Estate,
+Bromley.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Butterfly Division</h3>
+
+<p>On arriving at the hospital at Dames Camiers, we were put to bed.
+In the next bed to mine was a young Cockney who had lost three
+fingers of his right hand and his left arm below the elbow.</p>
+
+<p>The hospital orderly came to take particulars of our wounds, etc.
+Having finished with me, he turned to the Cockney. Rank, name, and
+regimental number were given, and then the orderly asked, "Which
+division are you from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the 19th," came the answer; and then, as an afterthought,
+"that's the butterfly division, yer know, but I've 'ad me blinkin' wings
+clipped."&mdash;<i>H. Redford (late R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Unfair Leg-Pull</h3>
+
+<p>I was working in a surgical ward at a base hospital, and among the
+patients was a Tommy with a fractured thigh-bone. He had his leg
+in a splint and, as was customary in these cases, there was an extension
+at the foot-piece with a heavy weight attached to prevent shortening of
+the leg.</p>
+
+<p>This weight was causing him a good deal of pain, and as I could do
+nothing to alleviate it I asked the M.O. to explain to him the necessity
+for the extension. He did so and ended up by saying, "You know, we
+want your leg to be straight, old man."</p>
+
+<p>The Tommy replied: "Wot's the good of making that leg strite
+w'en the uvver one's bowed?"&mdash;<i>Muriel A. Batey (V.A.D. Nurse),
+The North Cottage, Adderstone Crescent, Newcastle-upon-Tyne.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Saw It Through</h3>
+
+<p>In the big general hospital at Colchester the next bed to mine was
+occupied by a typical Cockney who was very seriously wounded.
+It was little short of marvellous that he was alive at all.</p>
+
+<p>Early one morning he became so ill that the hospital chaplain was sent
+to administer the Last Sacrament and the little Londoner's parents
+were telegraphed for.</p>
+
+<p>About nine o'clock he rallied a little, and apparently realised that the
+authorities had given him up as hopeless, for with a great effort he
+half-sat up and, with his eyes ablaze, cried: "Wot? You fink I'm
+goin' ter die? Well, you're all wrong! I've bin in this war since it
+started, an' I intends to be in it at the finish. So I just <i>won't</i> die, to
+spite yer, see?"</p>
+
+<p>His unconquerable spirit pulled him through, and he is alive&mdash;and well&mdash;to-day!&mdash;<i>A.
+C. P. (late 58th (London) Division), Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>As Good as the Pictures</h3>
+
+<p>In Salonika during 1916 I was taken to a field hospital, en route for
+the Base Hospital.</p>
+
+<p>All merry and bright when lying down, but helpless when perpendicular,
+was a comrade in the next bed to me. We were to be moved next day.</p>
+
+<p>I was interested in him, as he told me he belonged to "Berm-on-Sea,"
+which happens to be my birth-place. Well, close to our marquee were
+the dump and transport lines, which we could plainly see through the
+entrance to the marquee.</p>
+
+<p>Sister was taking our temperatures when we heard an explosion.
+Johnnie had "found" the dump. An officer ran through the marquee,
+ordering everyone to the dug-outs, and they promptly obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>I looked at Bermondsey Bill. He said: "We are beat. Let's
+stop and watch the fireworks."</p>
+
+<p>We were helpless on our feet. I tried to walk, but had to give it up.
+A new commotion then began, and Bill exclaimed: "Blimey, 'ere comes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+Flying Fox rahnd Tattenham Corner." It was a badly-wounded and
+panic-stricken mule. It dashed through our marquee, sent Sister's
+table flying, found the exit and collapsed outside.</p>
+
+<p>Sister returned (she was the right stuff) and said: "Hello, what's
+happened here? And you boys still in bed! Hadn't you better try
+and get to the dug-outs?"</p>
+
+<p>Bermondsey Bill said: "We'll stick it aht nah, Sister, an' fancy we're
+at the pictures."&mdash;<i>J. W. Fairbrass, 131 Sutton Dwellings, Upper Street,
+Islington, N.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Room for the Comforter</h3>
+
+<p>At Etaples in 1916 I was in a hospital marquee with nothing worse
+than a sprained ankle. A Y.M.C.A. officer was visiting us, giving a
+cheery word here and there, together with a very welcome packet of
+cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>In the next cot to me was a young Cockney of the "Diehards," who had
+been well peppered with shrapnel. His head was almost entirely swathed
+in bandages, openings being left for his eyes, nose, and mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old chap," said the good Samaritan to him, "they seem to
+have got you pretty badly."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm all right, guv'nor&mdash;ser long as they leaves me an 'ole to put me
+fag in."&mdash;<i>A. E. Jeffreys (late 4th Q.O. Hussars), 24 Byne Road, Sydenham,
+S.E. 26.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"War Worn and Tonsillitis"</h3>
+
+<p>My son, Gunner E. Smith (an "Old Contemptible"), came home on
+leave in September 1918, and after a day or two had something
+wrong with his throat. I advised him to see the M.O.</p>
+
+<p>He went and came back saying, "Just look at this." The certificate
+said "War worn and tonsillitis."</p>
+
+<p>He went to the hospital, and was kept in for three weeks. The first
+time I went to see him, he said, "What do you think of it? A 1914 man,
+and knocked over by a kid's complaint."&mdash;<i>F. Smith, 23 Saunders Road,
+Plumstead, S.E.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"... Fort I was in 'Ell"</h3>
+
+<p>It was at the American General Hospital in Rouen. There was the
+usual noise created by chaps under anesthetic, swearing, shouting,
+singing, and moaning; but the fellow in the next bed to me had not
+stirred since they had brought him from the operating theatre many
+hours before.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he sat up, looked around him in amazement, and said,
+"Strike, I've bin a-lying 'ere fer abaht two 'ours afraid ter open me
+peepers. I fort I was in 'ell."&mdash;<i>P. Webb (late E. Surreys), 68 Rossiter
+Road, Balham, S.W.12.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Pity the Poor Fly!</h3>
+
+<p>Amongst my massage patients at one of the general hospitals
+was a very cheery Cockney sergeant, who had been badly damaged
+by shrapnel. In addition to other injuries he had lost an eye.</p>
+
+<p>One morning he was issued with a new eye, and was very proud of it.
+After admiring himself in a small mirror for a considerable time he
+turned to me and said, "Sister, won't it be a blinkin' sell for the fly
+who gets into my glass eye?"&mdash;<i>(Mrs.) A. Powell, 61 Ritherdon Road,
+S.W.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Temperature by the Inch</h3>
+
+<p>I was a patient in a general hospital in 1918, when a Cockney gunner
+was put into the bed next to mine. He was suffering from a severe
+form of influenza, and after ten days' treatment showed little sign of
+improvement.</p>
+
+<p>One evening the Sister was going her rounds with the thermometers.
+She had taken our friend's temperature and registered it on the chart
+hanging over his head. As she passed to the next bed he raised himself
+and turned round to read the result. Then he looked over to a Canadian
+in a bed in the far corner of the ward, and this dialogue ensued:</p>
+
+<p>Gunner: Canada!</p>
+
+<p>Canadian: Hallo!</p>
+
+<p>Gunner: Up agin.</p>
+
+<p>Canadian: Go on! How much?</p>
+
+<p>Gunner: 'Arf inch.&mdash;<i>E. A. Taylor (late 4th London Field Ambulance), Drouvin, The Chase,
+Wallington, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"'Arf Price at the Pickshers!"</h3>
+
+<p>On the way across Channel with a Blighty in 1917 I chummed up with
+a wounded Cockney member of the Sussex. His head was swathed
+in bandages.</p>
+
+<p>"Done one o' me eyes in altergevver," he confided lugubriously. "Any
+blinkin' 'ow," he added in cheerier tones, "if that don't entitle a bloke to
+'arf price at the pickshers fer the rest of 'is blinkin' natural I don't know
+wot will do!"&mdash;<i>James Vance Marshall, 15, Manette Street, W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Twenty-four Stitches in Time</h3>
+
+<p>During the 1918 reverses suffered by the Turks on various fronts
+large numbers of mules were captured and sent to the veterinary
+bases to be reconditioned, sorted, and shod, for issue to various units in
+need of them. It was no mean feat to handle and shoe the worst-tempered
+brutes in the world. They had been made perfect demons through
+privation.</p>
+
+<p>"Ninty," a shoeing-smith (late of Grange Road, Bermondsey), was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+laid out and savaged by a mule, and carried off to hospital. At night
+his bosom pal goes over to see how his "old china" is going on.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ow are ye, Ninty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey, Ted, nineteen stitches in me figh an' five in me ribs. Ted&mdash;wot
+d'ye reckon they done it wiv? A sewin' machine?"&mdash;<i>A. C. Weekley
+(late Farrier Staff Sergeant, 20th Veterinary Hospital, Abbassair), 70
+Denbigh Road, East Ham, E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Second Thoughts</h3>
+
+<p>A Bluejacket who was brought into the Naval Hospital at Rosyth
+had had one of his legs blown off while he was asleep in his hammock.
+The late Mr. Thomas Horrocks Oppenshaw, the senior surgeon-in-charge,
+asked him what his first thought was when the explosion woke him up.</p>
+
+<p>"My first thought was 'Torpedoed, by gum!'"</p>
+
+<p>"And what did you think next?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think what I thought next was 'Ruddy good shot!'"&mdash;<i>H.R.A.,
+M.D., llford Manor, near Lewes, Sussex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Hats Off to Private Tanner</h3>
+
+<p>The following story, which emphasises the Cockney war spirit in the
+most adverse circumstances, and how it even impressed our late
+enemy, was related to me by a German acquaintance whose integrity
+is unimpeachable.</p>
+
+<p>It was at a German prisoner-of-war clearing station in Douai during
+the summer of 1917, where wounded British prisoners were being cleared
+for prison-camp hospital.</p>
+
+<p>A number of wounded of a London regiment has been brought in,
+and a German orderly was detailed to take their names and particulars
+of wounds, etc. Later, looking over the orderly's list, the German
+sergeant-major in charge came across a name written by the orderly
+which was quite unintelligible to the sergeant-major.</p>
+
+<p>He therefore requested an intelligence officer, who spoke perfect English,
+to ask this particular man his name. The intelligence officer sought out
+the man, a Cockney, who had been severely wounded, and the following
+conversation took place.</p>
+
+<p>I.O.: You are Number &mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>Cockney: Yussir.</p>
+
+<p>I.O.: What is your name?</p>
+
+<p>Cockney: Fourpence'a'penny.</p>
+
+<p>I.O.: I understand this is a term of English money, not a name.</p>
+
+<p>Cockney: Well, sir, I used to be called Tanner, but my right leg was
+took orf yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>The final words of the intelligence officer, as related to me, were:
+"I could have fallen on the 'begrimed ruffian hero's' neck and kissed
+him."&mdash;<i>J. W. Rourke, M.C. (ex-Lieut. Essex Regt.), 20 Mill Green Road,
+Welwyn Garden City.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Markis o' Granby</h3>
+
+<p>Wounded at Sheria, Palestine, in November 1917. I was sent
+to the nearest railhead in a motor-ambulance. A fellow-passenger&mdash;also
+from a London battalion&mdash;was wounded very badly in both thighs.
+The orderly who tucked him up on his stretcher before the start asked
+him if he would like a drink.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks, chum&mdash;not nah," he replied; "but you might arsk the
+driver to pull up at the ole Markis o' Granby, and we'll all 'ave one!"</p>
+
+<p>I heard later that he died in hospital.&mdash;<i>C. Dickens (late 2/20th London
+Regiment), 18 Wheathill Road, Anerley, S.E.20.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A One-Legged Turn</h3>
+
+<p>Wounded about half an hour after the final attack on Gaza, I
+awoke to consciousness in the M.O.'s dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor old concert party," he said; "you're the fifth 'Ragamuffin'
+to come down."</p>
+
+<p>Eventually I found myself sharing a mule-cart with another wounded
+man, but he lay so motionless and quiet that I feared I was about to
+journey from the line in a hearse.</p>
+
+<p>The jolting of the cart apparently jerked a little life into him, for he
+asked me, "Got a fag, mate?" With a struggle I lighted my one
+remaining cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>After a while I asked him, "Where did you catch it, old fellow?"
+"Lumme," he replied, "if it ain't old George's voice." Then I recognised
+Sam, the comedian of our troupe.</p>
+
+<p>"Got it pretty rotten in the leg," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Will it put paid to your comedy act, Sammy?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Dunno," he replied with a sigh in his voice&mdash;"I'm tryin' to fink
+'art a one-legged step dance."&mdash;<i>G. W. Turner (late 11th London Regt.),
+10 Sunny View, Kingsbury, N.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="HIGH_SEAS" id="HIGH_SEAS">4. HIGH SEAS</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>The Skipper's Cigar</h3>
+
+<p>Bradley (a Deptford flower-seller before joining up) was the
+"comic" of the stokers' mess deck.</p>
+
+<p>He was always late in returning from shore leave. One Monday
+morning he returned half an hour "adrift," and was promptly taken
+before the skipper.</p>
+
+<p>The skipper, a jovial old sort, asked him his reason for being adrift
+again, and Bradley replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, Townsend and me were waiting for the liberty boat, and
+I was telling him that if ever I sees the skipper round Deptford I'll let
+him 'ave a 'bob' bunch of flowers for a 'tanner,' and we looked round
+and the blinkin' boat was gorne."</p>
+
+<p>The skipper smiled and dismissed him. On Christmas Day Bradley
+received a packet containing a cigar in it, with the following written on
+the box:</p>
+
+<p>"For the best excuse of the year.&mdash;F. H. C., Capt."</p>
+
+<p>I saw Bradley three years ago and he told me he still had that cigar
+in a glass case with his medals.&mdash;<i>F. H. (late Stoker, R.N.), 18 Little Ilford
+Lane, Manor Park, E.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Breaking the Spell</h3>
+
+<p>We were in a twelve-inch gun turret in a ship during the Dogger
+Bank action. The ship had been hit several times and big explosions
+had scorched the paint and done other damage. There came a lull
+in the firing, and with all of us more or less badly shaken there was a
+queer silence. Our captain decided to break it. Looking round
+at the walls of the turret he remarked in a Cockney, stuttering voice:
+"Well, lads, this blinking turret couldn't 'arf do with a coat of paint."&mdash;<i>J.
+Bone, 84 Victoria Road, Surbiton.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A V.C.'s Story of Friendship</h3>
+
+<p>A transport packed with troops and horses for the Dardanelles
+was suddenly hailed by a German cruiser and the captain was
+given a few minutes in which to abandon ship.</p>
+
+<p>One young soldier was found with his arms round his horse's neck,
+sobbing bitterly, and when ordered to the boats he stubbornly refused to
+move. "Where my white-faced Willie goes <i>I</i> goes," he said proudly.</p>
+
+<p>His loyalty to his dumb friend was rewarded, for the German cruiser
+fired twice at the transport, missed each time, and before a third effort
+British destroyers were on the scene to chase her away. It was then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+young soldier had the laugh over his friends, for they in many cases
+arrived back on the ship half frozen and soaked to the skin!&mdash;<i>A
+Colonel, who wishes to remain anonymous: he holds the V.C., D.S.O.,
+and M.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Stoker Sums it Up</h3>
+
+<p>I was on a large transport (normally a freighter), which had just
+arrived at a port on the East African coast, very rusty, and with a
+very un-naval-looking crew. We were taken in charge by a very small
+but immaculate gun-boat.</p>
+
+<p>Orders were shouted to us by megaphone, and our men were leaning
+over the side watching the gun-boat rather enviously, when a Poplar
+stoker came up from below for a "breather," and summed up his mates'
+feelings in eight words.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 516px;">
+<img src="images/i189.jpg" width="516" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cupping his hands about his mouth, he shouted in a voice of thunder:
+"<i>Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?</i>"&mdash;<i>R. N. Spence (late Lieutenant,
+R.N.V.R.), 214 Croydon Road, Beckenham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Channel Swimming his Next Job</h3>
+
+<p>During the war I had to fly a machine over to France. I had as
+passenger a Cockney Tommy who had recently transferred from the
+infantry to the R.F.C., and was joining his unit overseas.</p>
+
+<p>Half-way over the Channel my engine failed and I glided down towards
+the nearest boat I could see. The landing was not very successful;
+the under-carriage struck the crest of a wave and the aeroplane hit the
+water almost vertically.</p>
+
+<p>We were both thrown out, my passenger being somewhat badly
+knocked about in the process. We clung to the almost submerged
+wreckage and gazed hopefully towards the vessel I had sighted. She
+continued on her course, however.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i190.jpg" width="600" height="531" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I know me way across nah!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The machine soon sank and we were left bobbing about in our life-belts.
+Things began to look far from bright, especially as my Cockney observer
+was in a pretty bad way by now. Suddenly the sun broke through
+the clouds, and the white cliffs of Grisnez, about eight miles away,
+stood out clearly.</p>
+
+<p>"What's them hills, sir?" asked Tommy.</p>
+
+<p>"Cape Grisnez, where Burgess landed after his Channel swim," I
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," he said, "if we ever gets out of this perishing mess, and I
+can't get me old job back after the war, I'll be a blooming Channel
+swimmer. I know the ruddy way across nah."&mdash;<i>"Pilot R.F.C.," London,
+W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>It <i>Was</i> a Collapsible Boat</h3>
+
+<p>I was one of the survivors of the transport ship <i>Leasowe Castle</i>. Just
+before she took her final plunge, I was standing on deck when an
+empty boat was seen drifting near by. Our section officer called for
+swimmers, and five or six men went overboard in a jiffy and brought the
+boat alongside.</p>
+
+<p>There was a bit of a scuffle to get over the rail and into the boat, and
+one man jumped straight into her from a height of about thirty feet.
+To our dismay he went clean through&mdash;it was a collapsible boat!</p>
+
+<p>No sooner had this happened than a typical Cockney voice said:
+"Blimey, he's got the anchor in his pocket, I'll bet yer!"&mdash;<i>G. P. Gregory
+(late 272 M.G. Company), 107 Tunkar Street, Greenwich.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Luck in Odd Numbers</h3>
+
+<p>We were on board H.M.S. <i>Sharpshooter</i>, doing patrol off the Belgian
+coast. The signalman on watch, who happened to be a Cockney,
+suddenly yelled out: "Aeroplane on the starboard bow, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The "old man," being fairly tired after a night of rain, said: "All
+right, it's only a friendly going back home."</p>
+
+<p>About two minutes later the plane dropped three bombs, the last of
+which was much too close to be comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>After our friend the signalman had wiped the splash off his face he
+turned round to the First Lieutenant and casually remarked: "Strike!
+It's a thundering good job he wasn't hostile or he might have hit us."&mdash;<i>R.
+Walmsley, D.S.M., 47 Watcombe Road, South Norwood, S.E.25.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Your Barf, Sir!"</h3>
+
+<p>We were a mixed crowd on board the old <i>Archangel</i> returning "off
+leave" from Southampton to Havre on the night of January 6,
+1917. The sea was calm, and a moon made conditions ideal for Jerry's
+"skimmers."</p>
+
+<p>When we were well under way I chummed up with a typical son of the
+Mile End Road, one of the Middlesex men, and we talked for some
+time whilst watching the long, white zig-zag wake.</p>
+
+<p>Then he suggested looking for a "kip." After nosing around several
+dark corners, a strip of carpet along the alley between the first-class
+cabins appealed to us, and quietly unslinging kit and putting our packs
+for a pillow, we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. During the
+process my pal jerked his thumb towards the closed doors and whispered
+"Orficers."</p>
+
+<p>How long we had been asleep I don't know, but we were rudely
+awakened by a dull booming thud and a sound of splintering wood,
+and at the same time we were jolted heavily against the cabins. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+hurriedly scrambled to our feet, looked at each other (no need to ask what
+had happened!), then grabbed our kit and made for the deck.</p>
+
+<p>As my companion passed the last cabin he banged on the door with his
+fist and called out: "Oi, yer barf'll be ready in a minute, sir!"&mdash;<i>A. E.
+Ulyett, 41 Smith Terrace, King's Road, Chelsea, S.W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Mind My Coat"</h3>
+
+<p>Middle watch, H.M.S. <i>Bulldog</i> on patrol off the Dardanelles:
+a dirty and a black night. A shout of "Man overboard!" from
+the fore-gun crew.... We located an A.B. in the water, and with a
+long boat-hook caught his coat and pulled him towards the boat. As
+he drew nearer he cried: "Don't pull so bloomin' hard; you'll tear my
+blinkin' coat!"</p>
+
+<p>Then we knew it was our "Ginger," from Poplar. Now "Ginger"
+has the life-saving medal. A few weeks after his ducking the ship
+struck a mine and the after-part went west: "Ginger" was discovered
+in the water, having gone in after a wounded sub-lieutenant who had
+been blown overboard.&mdash;<i>Henry J. Wood, D.S.M., 19 Gracechurch Street,
+E.C.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Wot's the Game&mdash;Musical Chairs?"</h3>
+
+<p>It was a bitterly cold day in December, somewhere in the North
+Sea. A section of mine-sweepers were engaged clearing an area well
+sown by Jerry's submarines. Suddenly the expected happened, and in
+a few minutes one of the sweepers was settling down fast by the stern.</p>
+
+<p>Those who did not "go west" in the explosion were with difficulty
+picked up; among them was a Cockney stoker rating. He arrived on
+board, wet, cold, and pretty well "pumped," and the bo'sun's peg
+of rum had almost disappeared between his chattering teeth when there
+was another explosion, and once again he was in a sinking ship.</p>
+
+<p>His reply to the order "abandon ship," which he had heard for the
+second time within half an hour, was: "Wot blinkin' game's this&mdash;musical
+chairs?"&mdash;<i>H. Waterworth, 32 Grasmere Road, Muswell Hill,
+N.10 (late Engineer-Lieutenant, R.N.R. (retired)).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Voice in the Dark</h3>
+
+<p>Dawn of a day in March 1917 found Submarine F3 on patrol
+near the Terschelling lightship. As we broke surface two German
+destroyers were seen only a few hundred yards away. We immediately
+dived again, and shortly afterwards the depth charges began to explode.
+Lower and lower we went until we touched the bottom.</p>
+
+<p>Bangs to the right of us, bangs to the left of us, bangs above us&mdash;then
+one glorious big bang and out went the lights.</p>
+
+<p>Deadly silence, and then out of the darkness came the voice of our
+Battersea bunting-tosser&mdash;"Anyone got six pennorth o' coppers?"&mdash;<i>Frederick
+J. H. Alsford, 78 North Street, S.W.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why the Stoker Washed</h3>
+
+<p>H.M.Q. ship 18 was sinking sixty miles off the French coast as the
+result of gun-fire, after destroying a German submarine.</p>
+
+<p>After getting away we had a hurried call-over and found that a Cockney
+fireman was missing. We hailed the ship which seemed about to take
+the plunge any minute, and at last the stoker appeared, spotlessly clean
+and dressed in "ducks."</p>
+
+<p>He had to jump and swim for it. As we hauled him to our boat we
+asked him why he had waited to clean himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he explained, "if I am going to hell there's no need to let the
+blighter know I'm a stoker."&mdash;<i>Wm. C. Barnaby (late Chief Coxswain,
+R.N.), 7 Seville Street, Knightsbridge, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Accounts Rendered</h3>
+
+<p>The First-Lieutenant of a warship I was in, though a first-class
+sailor, had no great liking for clerical work, consequently the ship's
+store-books were perhaps not quite as they should have been.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i193.jpg" width="600" height="473" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Well, <i>that</i> clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He therefore got an Able Seaman (who had been a London clerk in
+civil life) to give him a hand in his "off watches" in putting the books
+in order.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards the ship stopped a torpedo and sank in eight
+minutes. Before the First-Lieutenant had very much time to look
+round he found himself in the "ditch."</p>
+
+<p>As he was clambering out of the water on to the bottom of an upturned
+boat, he saw his "Chief Accountant" climbing up the other side, and
+the first thing he did was to reach out and shake hands with the A.B.
+across the keel of the boat, at the same time remarking, "Well, <i>that</i>
+clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."&mdash;<i>John Bowman (Able Seaman,
+R.N.V.R.), 19 Handel Mansions, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Ocean Greyhound</h3>
+
+<p>On one occasion when the <i>Diligence</i> was "somewhere in the North
+Sea," shore leave was granted.</p>
+
+<p>One of the sailors, a Cockney, returned to the ship with his jumper
+"rather swollen." The officer of the watch noticed something furry
+sticking out of the bottom of his jumper, and at once asked where he had
+got it from, fearing, probably, that he had been poaching.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 516px;">
+<img src="images/i194.jpg" width="516" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... To Nurse it Back to 'Ealth and Strength."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Cockney thought furiously for a moment and then said: "I
+chased it round the Church Army hut, sir, until it got giddy and fell over,
+and so I picked it up and brought it aboard to nurse it back to 'ealth
+and strength."&mdash;<i>J. S. Cowland, 65 Tylney Road, Forest Gate, E.7.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Margate In Mespot.</h3>
+
+<p>October 29, 1914&mdash;England declares war on Turkey and transports
+laden with troops sail from Bombay.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, within a week, these transports anchor off the flat Mesopotamian
+coast at the top of the Persian Gulf. In one ship, a county
+regiment (95 per cent. countrymen, the remainder Cockney) is ordered
+to be the first to land. H.M.S. <i>Ocean</i> sends her cutters and lifeboats,
+and into these tumble the platoons at dusk, to be rowed across a shallow
+"bar."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;">
+<img src="images/i195.jpg" width="425" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Wot price this fer Margate?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Under cover of an inky darkness they arrive close to the beach by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+midnight. It is very cold, and all feel it the more because the kit worn
+is shorts and light khaki shirts.</p>
+
+<p>In the stone-cold silence a whisper passes from boat to boat&mdash;"<i>Remove
+puttees; tie boots round the neck; at signal, boats to row in until grounded;
+platoons to disembark and wade ashore</i>."</p>
+
+<p>So a shadowy line of strange-looking waders is dimly to be seen advancing
+through the shallow water and up the beach&mdash;in extended order,
+grim and frozen stiff. As dawn breaks they reach the sandy beach, and a
+few shots ring out from the distant Fort of Fas&mdash;but no one cares. Each
+and all are looking amazedly at the grotesque appearance of the line&mdash;silent,
+miserable figures, boots wagging round their necks, shorts rolled as
+high as possible, while their frozen fingers obediently cling to rifles and
+ammunition.</p>
+
+<p>It is too much for one soul, and a Cockney voice calls out: "'Ere, wot
+price this fer Margate?"</p>
+
+<p>The spell is broken. The Mesopotamian campaign begins with a great
+laugh!&mdash;<i>John Fiton, M.C., A.F.C., 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden City,
+Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Urgent and Personal!</h3>
+
+<p>The ss. <i>Oxfordshire</i>, then a hospital ship, was on her way down from
+Dar-es-salaam to Cape Town when she received an S.O.S. from
+H.M.T. <i>Tyndareus</i>, which had been mined off Cape Agulhas, very near
+the spot where the famous <i>Birkenhead</i> sank.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Tyndareus</i> had on board the 26th (Pioneer) Battalion, Middlesex
+Regiment, under the command of Colonel John Ward, then on their
+way to Hong Kong.</p>
+
+<p>As the hospital boat drew near it was seen that the <i>Tyndareus</i> was very
+low in the water, and across the water we could hear the troops singing
+"Tipperary" as they stood lined up on the decks.</p>
+
+<p>The lifeboats from both ships were quickly at work, every patient
+capable of lending a hand doing all he could to help. Soon we had
+hundreds of the Middlesex aboard, some pulled roughly up the side,
+others climbing rope-ladders hastily thrown down. They were in
+various stages of undress, some arriving clad only in pants.</p>
+
+<p>On the deck came one who, pulled up by eager hands, landed on all
+fours with a bump. As he got up, hands and toes bleeding from contact
+with the side of the vessel, I was delighted to recognise an old London
+acquaintance. The following dialogue took place:</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Hallo, Bill! Fancy meeting you like this! Hurt much?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bill</span>: Not much. Seen Nobby Clark? Has he got away all right?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span> (<i>not knowing Nobby Clark</i>): I don't know. I expect so;
+there are hundreds of your pals aboard.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bill</span>: So long. See you later. Must find Nobby; he collared the
+"kitty" when that blinking boat got hit!&mdash;<i>J. P. Mansell (late) 25th
+Royal Fusiliers.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Victoria! (Very Cross)</h3>
+
+<p>While I was an A.B. aboard H.M.S. <i>Aboukir</i> somewhere in the
+North Sea we received a signal that seven German destroyers
+were heading for us at full speed. We were ordered at the double to
+action stations.</p>
+
+<p>My pal, a Cockney, weighing about 18 stone, found it hard to keep up
+with the others, and the commander angrily asked him, "Where is your
+station?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 435px;">
+<img src="images/i197.jpg" width="435" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Where's your station?"<br />
+"Victoria&mdash;if I could only get there."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>To which the Cockney replied, "Victoria&mdash;if I could only get there."&mdash;<i>J.
+Hearn, 24 Christchurch Street, S.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Saw the Force of It</h3>
+
+<p>In February 1915 we beat out our weary patrol near the Scillies.
+Our ship met such heavy weather that only the bravest souls could
+keep a cheery countenance. Running into a growing storm, and unable
+to turn from the racing head seas, we beat out our unwilling way into
+the Atlantic.</p>
+
+<p>Three days later we limped back to base with injured men, hatches
+stove in, winch pipes and boats torn away. Our forward gun was
+smashed and leaned over at a drunken angle.</p>
+
+<p>Early in the morning the crew were taking a well-earned rest, and the
+decks were deserted but for the usual stoker, taking a breath of air after
+his stand-by watch. A dockyard official, seeing our damage, came on
+board, and, after viewing the wrecked gun at close quarters, turned to
+the stoker with the remark: "Do you mean to say that the sea smashed
+a heavy gun like that, my man?"</p>
+
+<p>The stoker, spitting with uncanny accuracy at a piece of floating wood
+overside, looked at the official: "Nah," he said, "it wasn't the blinking
+sea; the ryne done it!"&mdash;<i>A. Marsden (Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander,
+R.N.), Norbrook Cottage, Leith Park Road, Gravesend.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>New Skin&mdash;Brand New!</h3>
+
+<p>Two mines&mdash;explosion&mdash;many killed&mdash;hundreds drowned. We were
+sinking fast. I scrambled quickly out of my hammock and up the
+hatchway. On deck, leaning against the bulkhead, was a shipmate,
+burned from head to foot. More amazing than fiction was his philosophy
+and coolness as he hailed me with, "'Cher, Darby! Got a fag? I
+ain't had a 'bine since Pa died." I was practically "in the nude,"
+and could not oblige him. Three years later I was taking part at a
+sports meeting at Dunkirk when I was approached by&mdash;to me&mdash;a total
+stranger. "What 'cher, Darby&mdash;ain't dead yet then. What! Don't
+you remember H.M.S. <i>Russell</i>? Of course I've altered a bit now&mdash;new
+skin&mdash;just like a two-year-old&mdash;brand new." Brand new externally,
+but the philosophy was unaltered.&mdash;<i>"Darby," 405 Valence Avenue,
+Chadwell Heath, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Zeebrugge Memory</h3>
+
+<p>During the raid on Zeebrugge, one of our number had his arms
+blown away. When things quietened a little my chum and I laid
+him on a mess table and proceeded to tend his wounds. My chum tried
+to light the mess-deck "bogey" (fire), the chimney of which had been
+removed for the action. After the match had been applied, we soon
+found ourselves in a fog. Then the wounded man remarked: "I say,
+chum! If I'm going to die, let's die a white man, not a black 'un." The
+poor fellow died before reaching harbour.&mdash;<i>W. A. Brooks, 14 Ramsden
+Road, N.11.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Another Perch in the Roost</h3>
+
+<p>On the morning of September 22, 1914, when the cruisers <i>Aboukir</i>,
+<i>Hogue</i>, and <i>Cressy</i> were torpedoed, we were dotted about in the water,
+helping each other where possible and all trying to get some support.
+When one piece got overloaded it meant the best swimmers trying their
+luck elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>Such was my position, when I saw a piece of wreckage resembling a
+chicken coop, large enough to support four men. I reached it just ahead
+of another man who had been badly scalded.</p>
+
+<p>We were both exhausted and unable to help another man coming
+towards us. He was nearly done, and my companion, seeing his condition,
+shouted between breaths: "Come along, ole cock. Shake yer
+bloomin' feavers. There's a perch 'ere for anover rooster."</p>
+
+<p>Both were stokers on watch when torpedoed, and in a bad state from
+scalds. Exposure did the rest. I was alone, when picked up.&mdash;<i>W.
+Stevens (late R.M.L.I.), 23 Lower Range Road, Denton, near Gravesend.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Uncomfortable Cargo</h3>
+
+<p>(<i>A 12-in. shell weighs about 8 cwt. High explosives were painted yellow
+and "common" painted black.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>In October 1914 H.M.S. <i>Venerable</i> was bombarding the Belgian coast
+and Thames tugs were pressed into service to carry ammunition to
+ships taking part in the bombardment.</p>
+
+<p>The sea was pretty rough when a tug came alongside the <i>Venerable</i>
+loaded with 12-in. shells, both high explosive and common. Deck hands
+jumped down into the tug to sling the shells on the hoist. The tug
+skipper, seeing them jumping on the high explosives, shouted: "Hi!
+dahn there! Stop jumping on them yaller 'uns"; and, turning to the
+Commander, who was leaning over the ship's rail directing operations,
+he called out: "Get them yaller 'uns aht fust, guvnor, or them blokes
+dahn there 'll blow us sky high."&mdash;<i>A. Gill, 21 Down Road, Teddington,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Good Old "Vernon"</h3>
+
+<p>Several areas in the North Sea were protected by mines, which
+came from the torpedo depot ship, H.M.S. <i>Vernon</i>. The mines
+floated several feet below the surface, being kept in position by means
+of wires attached to sinkers.</p>
+
+<p>In my submarine we had encountered very bad weather and were
+uncertain of our exact position. The weather got so bad that we were
+forced to cruise forty feet below the surface.</p>
+
+<p>Everything was very still in the control room. The only movements
+were an occasional turn of the hydroplanes, or a twist at the wheel,
+at which sat "Shorty" Harris, a real hard case from Shadwell.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly we were startled by a scraping sound along the port side.
+Before we could put our thoughts into words there came an ominous
+bump on the starboard side. <i>Bump!</i> ... <i>bump!</i> ... seven distinct<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+thuds against the hull. No one moved, and every nerve was taut. Then
+"Shorty" broke the tension with, "Good old <i>Vernon</i>, another blinkin'
+dud."&mdash;<i>T. White, 31 Empress Avenue, Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Any Time's Kissing Time!</h3>
+
+<p>A torpedo-boat destroyer engaged on transport duty in the
+Channel in 1916 had been cut in two by collision whilst steaming
+with lights out. A handful of men on the after-part, which alone remained
+afloat, were rescued after several hours by another destroyer,
+just as the after-part sank.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i200.jpg" width="600" height="523" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss me?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A howling gale was raging and some of the survivors had to swim
+for it.</p>
+
+<p>As the first swimmer reached the heaving side of the rescuing ship he
+was caught by willing hands and hauled on board.</p>
+
+<p>When he got his breath he stood up and, shaking himself to clear the
+water somewhat from his dripping clothes, looked around with a smile
+at the "hands" near by and said: "Well, ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss
+me?"&mdash;<i>J. W., Bromley, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Fag End</h3>
+
+<p>The captain of the troopship <i>Transylvania</i> had just called the
+famous "Every man for himself" order after the boat had received
+two torpedoes from a submarine.</p>
+
+<p>The nurses had been got off safely in a boat, but our own prospects of
+safety seemed very remote. Along came a Cockney with his cigarettes
+and the remark, "Who'll 'ave a fag afore they get wet?"&mdash;<i>A. W. Harvey,
+97 Elderfield Road, Clapton, E.5 (late 10th London Regiment).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Spotty" the Jonah</h3>
+
+<p>On board the s.s. <i>Lorrento</i> in 1917 with me was one "Spotty" Smith,
+A.B., of London. He had been torpedoed five times, and was
+reputed to be the sole survivor on the last two occasions. Such a Jonah-like
+reputation brought him more interest than affection from sailormen.</p>
+
+<p>Approaching Bizerta&mdash;a danger spot in the South Mediterranean&mdash;one
+dark night, all lights out, "Spotty" so far forgot himself as to strike
+matches on deck. In lurid and forcible language the mate requested
+him "not to beat his infernal record on this ship."</p>
+
+<p>"Spotty," intent on turning away wrath, replied, "S'elp me, sir,
+I've 'ad enough of me heroic past. This next time, sir, I made up
+me mind to go down with the rest of the crew!"&mdash;<i>J. E. Drury, 77 Eridge
+Road, Thornton Heath.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Just Caught the Bus!</h3>
+
+<p>After an arduous spell of patrol duty, our submarine had hove to
+to allow the crew a much-needed breather and smoke. For this
+purpose only the conning-tower hatch was opened so as to be ready to
+submerge, if necessity arose, with the minimum of delay.</p>
+
+<p>Eager to take full advantage of this refreshing interlude, the crew
+had emerged, one by one, through the conning-tower and had disposed
+themselves in sprawling attitudes around the upper deck space, resting,
+reading, smoking.</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough, soon the alarm was given, "Smoke seen on the horizon."</p>
+
+<p>The order "Diving stations" was given and, hastily scuttling down
+the conning-tower, the crew rapidly had the boat submerging, to leave
+only the periscope visible.</p>
+
+<p>The commander kept the boat slowly cruising with his periscope trained
+on the approaching smoke, ready for anything. Judge of his amazement
+when his view was obscured by the face of "Nobby" Clark (our Cockney
+A.B.) at the other end of the periscope. Realising at once that "Nobby"
+had been locked out (actually he had fallen asleep and had been rudely
+awakened by his cold plunge), we, of course, "broke surface" to collect
+frightened, half-drowned "Nobby," whose only ejaculation was:
+"Crikey! I ain't half glad I caught the ole bus."&mdash;<i>J. Brodie, 177 Manor
+Road, Mitcham, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Dinner before Mines!</h3>
+
+<p>"Somewhere in the North Sea" in 1917, when I was a stoker on
+H.M.S. <i>Champion</i>, there were plenty of floating mines about.</p>
+
+<p>One day, several of us were waiting outside the galley (cook house) for
+our dinners, and the cook, a man from Walworth, was shouting out the
+number of messes marked on the meat dishes which were ready for the
+men to take away.</p>
+
+<p>He had one dish in his hand with no number marked on it, when a
+stoker rushed up and shouted: "We nearly struck a mine&mdash;missed it by
+inches, Cookey." But Cookey only shouted back: "Never mind about
+blinkin' mines nah; is this <i>your</i> perishin' dish with no tally on it?"&mdash;<i>W.
+Downs (late stoker, R.N.), 20 Tracey Street, Kennington Road, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Philosopher at Sea</h3>
+
+<p>We were a helpless, sorry crowd, many of us with legs in splints,
+in the hold of a "hospital" ship crossing from Boulogne. The boat
+stopped dead.</p>
+
+<p>"What are we stopping for, mate?" one man asked the orderly.</p>
+
+<p>"The destroyers wot's escortin' of us is chasin' a German submarine.
+I'm just a-goin' on deck agin to see wot's doin'." As he got to the ladder
+he turned to say: "Nah, you blokes: if we gits 'it by a torpedo don't
+go gettin' the ruddy wind up an' start rushin' abaht tryin' ter git on deck.
+It won't do yer wounds no bloomin' good!"&mdash;<i>E. Bundy (late L/Corporal,
+1/5th L.F.A., 47th Division), 4 Upton Gardens, Barkingside, Ilford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Extra Heavyweight</h3>
+
+<p>Amongst the crew of our mine-sweeper during the war "Sparks,"
+the wireless operator, was a hefty, fat chap, weighing about 18 stone.
+One day while clearing up a mine-field, laid overnight by a submarine,
+we had the misfortune to have four or five of the mines explode in the
+"sweep."</p>
+
+<p>The explosion shattered every piece of glass in the ship, put the engines
+out of action, and nearly blew the ship out of the water.</p>
+
+<p>"Bill," one of our stokers&mdash;a Cockney who, being off watch, was
+asleep in his bunk&mdash;sat up, yawned, and exclaimed in a sleepy voice:
+"'Ullo, poor ole 'Sparks' fallen out of 'is bunk again! 'E'll 'urt 'isself
+one of these days!"&mdash;<i>R.N.V.R., Old Windsor, Berks.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Three Varieties</h3>
+
+<p>The boat on which I was serving as a stoker had just received two
+new men as stokers.</p>
+
+<p>On coming down the stokehold one of them seemed intent on finding
+out what different perils could happen to him.</p>
+
+<p>After he had been inquiring for about an hour a little Cockney, rather
+bored, got up and said, "Now look here, mate. The job ain't so bad,
+looking at it in this light&mdash;you've three ways of snuffing it: one is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+<i>burnt</i> to death, the other is <i>scalded</i> to death; or, if you're damn lucky,
+<i>drowned</i>. That's more chances than they have upstairs."&mdash;<i>B. Scott
+(late Stoker, H.M.S. "Marlborough"), 29 Stanley Road, Southend-on-Sea,
+Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He was a Bigger Fish</h3>
+
+<p>The battleship in which I was serving was picking up survivors
+from a torpedoed merchantman in the North Atlantic. They had
+been drifting about for hours clinging to upturned boats and bits of gear
+that had floated clear of the wreckage.</p>
+
+<p>Our boat had picked up three or four half-drowned men and was just
+about to return to the ship when we espied a fat sailor bobbing about
+with his arms around a plank. We pulled up close to him and the bow-man
+leaned out with a boat-hook and drew him alongside.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i203.jpg" width="600" height="506" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Wot d'yer fink I am&mdash;a blinkin' tiddler?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He seemed to have just strength enough left to grasp the gunwale,
+when we were surprised to hear him shout, in an unmistakable Cockney
+voice: "All right, Cockey, un'itch that boat 'ook. Wot d'yer fink I
+am&mdash;a blinkin' tiddler?"&mdash;<i>Leslie E. Austin, 6 Northumberland Avenue,
+Squirrels Heath, Romford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The "Arethusa" Touch</h3>
+
+<p>During the action off Heligoland in August 1914 the light cruiser
+<i>Arethusa</i> came under a hot fire. A shell penetrated the chief stoker's
+mess, knocked a drawer full of flour all over the deck, but luckily failed
+to explode.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney stoker standing in the mess had a narrow escape, but after
+surveying the wreckage and flour-covered deck all he said was: "Blowed
+if they ain't trying to make a blinkin' duff in our mess!"&mdash;<i>C. H. Cook
+(Lieut., R.N.V.R.), 91 Great Russell Street, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Chance to Dive</h3>
+
+<p>During the early part of 1917, whilst I was serving with one of H.M.
+transports, we had occasion to call at Panama for coaling purposes
+before proceeding to England via New York.</p>
+
+<p>One of our many Cockney sailors was a fine swimmer and diver. He
+took every opportunity to have what he termed "a couple of dives."</p>
+
+<p>Owing to the water being rather shallow immediately along the quay,
+his diving exhibitions were limited to nothing higher than the forecastle,
+which was some 30 ft. His one desire, however, was to dive from the
+boat-deck, which was about 60 ft. Whilst steaming later in the front
+line of our convoy, which numbered about forty-two ships, we became the
+direct target of a deadly torpedo. Every soul dashed for the lifeboats.</p>
+
+<p>After things had somewhat subsided I found our Cockney friend&mdash;disregarding
+the fact that our ship was badly damaged and was now listing
+at an almost impossible angle&mdash;posing rather gracefully for a dive. He
+shouted, "Hi! hi! Wot abaht this 'un? I told yer I could do it easy!"
+He then dived gracefully and swam to a lifeboat.&mdash;<i>Bobbie George Bull
+(late Mercantile Marine), 40 Warren Road, Leyton, E.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wot Abaht Wot?</h3>
+
+<p>In 1917 our job on an armed merchantman, H.M.A.S. <i>Marmora</i>, was
+to escort food ships through the danger zone. One trip we were going
+to Sierra Leone, but in the middle of the afternoon, when about two days
+out from Cardiff, we were torpedoed.</p>
+
+<p>The old ship came to a standstill and we all proceeded to action stations.
+Just as we were training our guns in the direction of the submarine
+another torpedo struck us amidships and smashed practically all the
+boats on the port side.</p>
+
+<p>"Abandon ship" was given, as we were slowly settling down by the
+bows. Our boat was soon crowded out, and there seemed not enough
+room for a cat. The last man down the life-line was "Tubby," our
+cook's mate, who came from Poplar.</p>
+
+<p>When he was about half way down the boat was cut adrift and
+"Tubby" was left hanging in mid-air. "Hi!" he shouted. "What
+abaht it?"</p>
+
+<p>Another Cockney (from Battersea) replied: "What abaht what?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Abaht coming back for me."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you take us for," said the lad from Battersea; "do yer
+fink we all want the sack fer overcrowdin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tubby" was, of course, picked up after a slight immersion.&mdash;<i>C.
+Phelps (late R.M.L.I.), 36 Oxford Road, Putney, S.W.15.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Water on the Watch</h3>
+
+<p>I was one of the crew of a patrol boat at the Nore in the winter of
+1915. Most of the crew had gone to the dockyard to draw stores and
+provisions, and I was down in the forecastle when I heard a shout for
+help. I nipped up on
+deck and discovered that
+our Cockney stoker had
+fallen overboard. He was
+trying to swim for dear
+life, though handicapped
+by a pair of sea boots and
+canvas overalls over his
+ordinary sailor's rig. A
+strong tide was running
+and was carrying him
+away from the boat.</p>
+
+<p>I threw a coil of rope
+to him, and after a
+struggle I managed to
+haul him aboard. I took
+him down to the boiler
+room and stripped off his
+clothes.</p>
+
+<p>Around his neck was
+tied a bootlace, on the
+end of which was hanging
+a metal watch, which he
+told me he had bought
+the day before for five
+shillings. The watch was
+full of sea water, and
+there was an air bubble
+inside the glass. As he
+held it in his hand he
+looked at it with disgust.
+When I said to him what
+a wonderful escape his
+wife had had from being left a widow, he replied, "Yes, it was a near
+fing, ole' mate, but wot abaht me blinkin' bran' noo watch? It's gone
+and turned itself into a perishin' spirit level, and I've dipped five
+bob."&mdash;<i>W. Carter, 55 Minet Avenue, Harlesden, N.W.10.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 374px;">
+<img src="images/i205.jpg" width="374" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"A perishin' spirit level."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Gallant Tar</h3>
+
+<p>An awe-inspiring sight met the eyes of the 29th Division as they came
+into view of Gallipoli on the morning of April 25, 1915. Shells from
+our ships were bursting all over that rugged coast, and those from the
+enemy bespattered the water around us.</p>
+
+<p>While I gazed at the scene from the deck of the <i>Andania</i>, carried away
+by the grandeur of it all, my reverie was broken by a Cockney voice from
+the sailor in charge of the small boat that was to take us ashore.
+"'Op in, mate," said the sailor. "I've just lorst three boats. I
+reckon I'll soon have to take the blooming island meself."</p>
+
+<p>His fourth trip was successfully accomplished, but the fifth, alas! was
+fatal both to this gallant tar and to the occupants of his boat.&mdash;<i>G. Pull
+(late 1st R. Innis. Fus.), 20 Friars Place Lane, Acton, W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Cap for Jerry</h3>
+
+<p>Dawn, September 1, 1917, H.M. destroyer <i>Rosalind</i> was engaged with
+enemy ships off Jutland. I was serving on one of the guns, and we
+were approaching the enemy at full speed. The ship was vibrating from
+end to end, and the gun fire, the bursting of shells, and the smell of the
+cordite had got our nerves at high tension.</p>
+
+<p>When we were very near the enemy one of the German ships blew up
+completely in a smothering cloud of smoke.</p>
+
+<p>At this time something went wrong with our ammunition supply, and
+we had used up all that we usually carried on the gun platform. One of
+the gun's crew, a Cockney, put his cap in the breech, and said "Quick!
+Send 'em this to put the lid on that blinkin' chimney." We all had to
+laugh, and carried on.&mdash;<i>W. E. M. (late H.M.S. "Rosalind"), 19 Kimberley
+Road, Leytonstone, E.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Give 'im 'is Trumpet Back</h3>
+
+<p>After the <i>Britannia</i> was torpedoed in November 1918, and the
+order "Abandon Ship" had been given, the crew had to make their
+way as best they could to a destroyer which had pulled up alongside.</p>
+
+<p>Hawsers were run from the <i>Britannia</i> to the destroyer, down which we
+swarmed. Some got across. Others were not so lucky. One of the
+unlucky ones who had a free bath was a Cockney stoker nicknamed
+"Shorty," who, after splashing and struggling about, managed to get
+near the destroyer.</p>
+
+<p>To help him a burly marine dangled a rope and wooden bucket over
+the side, this being the only means of rescue available. The marine,
+who was puffing at a large meerschaum pipe, called out: "Here y'are,
+Shorty, grab 'old o' this bucket an' mind yer don't drown yerself in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Shorty" makes sure of bucket, then wipes the water from his eyes,
+looks up to the marine, and says: "Garn, give the kid 'is trumpet
+back."&mdash;<i>G. Lowe (ex-R.M.L.I.), 18 Brocas Street, Eton, Bucks.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Getting the Range</h3>
+
+<p>It was on H.M. monitor <i>General Wolfe</i>, my first ship, and this was my
+first taste of actual warfare.</p>
+
+<p>We were lying anchored off the Belgian coast, shelling an inland
+objective with our 18-in. gun, the ammunition for which, by the way,
+was stowed on the upper deck.</p>
+
+<p>All ratings other than this gun's crew were standing by for "action
+stations." Just then the shore batteries opened fire on us. The first
+shot fell short, the next went over.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney member of my gun's crew explained it thus: "That's wot
+they calls a straddle," he said. "They finds our range that way&mdash;one
+short, one over, and the next 'arf way between. Got a 'bine on yer
+before it's too late?"&mdash;<i>Regd. W. Ayres (late A.B., R.N.), 50 Lewisham
+High Road, New Cross, S.E. 14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Coco-nut Shies</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1915 I was attached to one of our monitors in the Far
+East. We had painted the ship to represent the country we were
+fighting in. The ship's side was painted green with palm trees on it,
+and up the funnel we painted a large coco-nut tree in full bloom.</p>
+
+<p>When we went into action, a shell penetrated our funnel, and a splinter
+caught my breech worker in the shoulder. After we had ceased fire we
+carried him below on a stretcher. Looking at the funnel, he said,
+"Blimey, Tom, 'appy 'Ampstead and three shies a penny. All you
+knock down you 'ave."</p>
+
+<p>Later I went to see him in Zanzibar Hospital, and told him he had
+been awarded the D.S.M. He seemed more interested to know if the
+German had got his coco-nut than in his own award.&mdash;<i>T. Spring (late
+Chief Gunner's Mate, R.N.), 26 Maidenstone Hill, Greenwich, S.E.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Any more for the 'Skylark'?"</h3>
+
+<p>Passing through the Mediterranean in 1916, the P. &amp; O. liner
+<i>Arabia</i>, returning from the East with a full complement of passengers,
+was torpedoed.</p>
+
+<p>I was in charge of a number of naval ratings returning to England, who,
+of course, helped to get the boats away.</p>
+
+<p>While some of my boys were getting out one of the port boats a woman
+passenger, who had on a Gieves waistcoat, rushed up, holding the air
+tube in front of her, and shouting hysterically, "Oh, blow it up somebody,
+will somebody please blow it up?" A hefty seaman with a couple
+of blasts had the waistcoat inflated, and as he screwed up the cap said,
+"Look 'ere, miss, if yer 'oller like that Fritzy will 'ear yer and he <i>will</i>
+be angry. 'Ere you are, miss, boat all ready; 'op in."</p>
+
+<p>Then, turning round to the waiting passengers, he said, "Come on,
+any more for the 'Skylark'?"&mdash;<i>F. M. Simon (Commander, R.N., retd.),
+99 Lower Northdown Road, Margate.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Still High and Dry</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst patrolling on an exceptionally dark night, the order being
+"No lights showing," we had the misfortune to come into collision
+with a torpedo boat. Owing to the darkness and suddenness of the collision
+we could not discover the extent of the damage, so the officer of
+the watch made a "round," accompanied by the duty petty officer.</p>
+
+<p>Upon reaching a hatchway leading down to the stokers' mess deck,
+he called down: "Is there any water coming in down there?" In
+answer a Cockney stoker, who was one of a number in their hammocks,
+was heard to reply: "I don't fink so; it ain't reached my 'ammock
+yet."&mdash;<i>J. Norton (late Ldg. Stoker, R.N.), 24 Lochaline Street, Hammersmith,
+W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Trunkey Turk's Sarcasm</h3>
+
+<p>We were serving in a destroyer (H.M.S. <i>Stour</i>) in 1915, steaming up
+and down the East Coast. As we passed the different coastguard
+stations the bunting-tosser had to signal each station for news.</p>
+
+<p>One station, in particular, always had more to tell than the others.
+One day this station signalled that a merchant ship had been torpedoed
+and that German submarines were near the coast.</p>
+
+<p>My Cockney chum&mdash;we called him Trunkey Turk because of his big
+nose&mdash;asked the bunting-tosser for his news as he was coming down
+from the bridge, and when he was told, said, "Why didn't you ask them
+if they saw a tin of salmon in their tot of rum to-day?"&mdash;<i>J. Tucknott,
+2 Wisbeach Road, West Croydon.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Running Down the Market</h3>
+
+<p>On board a destroyer in the North Sea in 1916. Look-out reports,
+"Sail ahead, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The captain, adjusting his glasses, was able to make out what at first
+appeared to be a harmless fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>As we drew nearer we could see by her bow wave that she had something
+more than sails to help her along: she had power.</p>
+
+<p>"Action Stations" was sounded, the telegraphs to engine-room
+clanged "Full speed ahead." Our skipper was right. It was a German
+submarine, and as our foremost gun barked out we saw the white sails
+submerge.</p>
+
+<p>Depth charges were dropped at every point where we altered course.
+Imagine our surprise to find the resulting flotsam and jetsam around us
+consisted of trestles, boards, paint-brushes, boxes, and a hat or two, which
+the crafty Germans had used to camouflage their upper structure.</p>
+
+<p>The scene was summed up neatly by "Spikey" Merlin, A.B., a real
+product of Mile End Road: "Lor' luv old Aggie Weston, we've run dahn
+the blinkin' Calerdonian Markit."&mdash;<i>A. G. Reed (late R.N.), 15 William
+Street, Gravesend, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Five to One against the "Tinfish"</h3>
+
+<p>H.M.S. Morea, on convoy duty, was coming up the Channel when the
+silver streak of a "tinfish" was seen approaching the port side.
+The <i>Morea</i> was zig-zagging at the time, so more helm was given her to
+dodge the oncoming torpedo.</p>
+
+<p>The guns' crews were at action stations and were grimly waiting for
+the explosion, when a Cockney seaman gunner sang out, "I'll lay five
+to one it doesn't hit us."</p>
+
+<p>This broke the tension, and, as luck would have it, the torpedo passed
+three yards astern.&mdash;<i>J. Bowman (R.N.), 19 Handel Mansions, Handel
+Street, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Queer Porpoise</h3>
+
+<p>In September 1914 I was in H.M.S. <i>Vanguard</i>, patrolling in the North
+Sea. One day four of us were standing on the top of the foremast
+turret, when all of a sudden my pal Nobby shouted to the bridge above
+us, "Periscope on the port bow, sir." At once the captain and signalman
+levelled their telescopes on the object. Then the captain looked over the
+bridge and shouted, "That's a porpoise, my man."</p>
+
+<p>Nobby looked up at the bridge and said, "Blimey, that's the first time
+I've seen a porpoise wiv a glass eye."</p>
+
+<p>He had no sooner said it than the ship slewed to port and a torpedo
+passed close to our stern, the signalman having spotted the wake of a
+torpedo.&mdash;<i>M. Froggat, 136 Laleham Road, Catford, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Hoctopus" with One Arm</h3>
+
+<p>At the time when the German submarine blockade was taking
+heavy toll of all general shipping I was serving aboard a destroyer
+doing escort work in the Channel. One night three ships had been torpedoed
+in quick succession, and we understood they were carrying
+wounded.</p>
+
+<p>We were kept pretty busy dodging from one place to another to pick
+up survivors, and during our "travels" a ship's boat was sighted close
+at hand. In the darkness we could just make out the figure of a soldier
+endeavouring to pull a full-sized oar.</p>
+
+<p>After hailing the boat someone on our destroyer shouted, "Why
+didn't you get some more oars out?" A voice replied: "Don't be
+so funny. D'yer fink I'm a hoctopus? Our engines 'ave all conked
+aht." Which remark raised a laugh from the entire boatload.</p>
+
+<p>On getting closer alongside the tragedy dawned on us. This Cockney
+was the only man (out of about thirty) who was sound enough to
+handle an oar, and he only had one arm and a half.&mdash;<i>H. G. Vollor (late
+Ldg.-seaman, R.N.), 73 Playford-Road, Finsbury Park, N.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Interrupted Duel</h3>
+
+<p>The C.O. of my ship had his own way of punishing men who were
+brought before him for fighting.</p>
+
+<p>He would send for the gunner's mate and tell him to have the two
+men up on the upper deck, in view of the ship's company, armed with
+single-sticks. The gunner's mate would get them facing each other,
+give them the first order of "Cutlass practice"&mdash;"Guard!" then
+"Loose play." At that order they would go for each other hammer
+and tongs till one gave in.</p>
+
+<p>Such a dispute had to be settled one day while we were patrolling
+the North Sea. The combatants were just getting warm to it when the
+alarm buzzers went&mdash;enemy in sight.</p>
+
+<p>The gunner's mate, who was refereeing the combat, said: "Pipe
+dahn, you two bounders. Hop it to your action stations, and don't
+forget to come back 'ere when we've seen them off."</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately they were both able to "come back."&mdash;<i>John M. Spring
+(late P.O., R.N.), Bank Chambers, Forest Hill, S.E.23.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Enter Dr. Crippen</h3>
+
+<p>Our ship, the s.s. <i>Wellington</i>, was torpedoed on August 14, 1917,
+and we were a despondent crew in the only two boats. The U-boat
+that had sunk our ship appeared and we were wondering what was going
+to happen to us.</p>
+
+<p>As the U-boat bore down upon us my mate, Nigger Smith (from Shoreditch)
+spotted its commander, who wore large spectacles, on its conning
+tower bridge. "Blimey," said Nigger, "'ere's old Crippen!"&mdash;<i>J. Cane
+(late Gunner, R.M.), 73 Rahere Street, E.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The All-seeing Eye</h3>
+
+<p>My pal Pincher and I volunteered out of the destroyer <i>Vulture</i> for
+the Q-boats, and got detailed for the same mystery ship. After a
+lot of drills&mdash;"Abandon ship," "Panic crews away," etc.&mdash;we thought we
+were hot stuff.</p>
+
+<p>Knocking about the Channel one fine day the order came, "Panic
+crews to stations." Thinking it was drill, Pincher and I nipped into our
+boat, when the after fall carried away, letting Pincher, myself, and crew
+into the "drink."</p>
+
+<p>Pincher must have caught sight of the periscope of a U-boat, for on
+coming up (although he couldn't swim much) he said when I grabbed
+him: "Lumme, I'm in for fourteen penn'orth!" (14 days 10A, i.e.
+punishment involving extra work). "There's the skipper lookin' at me
+through 'is telescope, and they aven't piped 'ands to bathe yet."&mdash;<i>P. Willoughby
+(late R.N.), 186 Evelyn Street, S.E.8.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Submarine's Gamps</h3>
+
+<p>While patrolling in the Sea of Marmora a British submarine came
+across several umbrellas floating in the sea, presumably from a
+sunken ship. Some of them were acquired by the crew.</p>
+
+<p>On the passage down the Dardanelles the submarine was damaged
+in the conning tower by gun-fire from the Turkish batteries, and water
+began to come in.</p>
+
+<p>At this critical stage I overheard one sailor remark to another, "I say,
+Bill, don't you think it is about time we put those blinkin' umbrellas up?"&mdash;<i>Naval
+officer retired, Hampstead, N.W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Polishing up his German</h3>
+
+<p>About January 15, 1915, we were on patrol duty in the North
+Sea. Near daybreak we came across a number of German
+drifters, with carrier pigeons on board, that were suspected of being
+in touch with submarines.</p>
+
+<p>We were steaming in line abreast,
+and the order was signalled for each
+ship to take one drifter in tow. Our
+Jerry objected to being towed to
+England, and cut our tow-rope, causing
+us a deal of trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Our captain was in a rage and
+shouted down from the bridge to the
+officer of the watch, "Is there anyone
+on board who can speak German?"</p>
+
+<p>The officer of the watch called back,
+"Yes, sir; Knight speaks German"&mdash;meaning
+an officer.</p>
+
+<p>So the captain turned to the bos'n's
+mate and said, "Fetch him." The
+bos'n's mate sends up Able Seaman
+"Bogey" Knight, to whom the
+captain says, over his shoulder: "Tell
+those fellows that I'll sink 'em if they
+tamper with the tow again."</p>
+
+<p>With a look of surprise Bogey
+salutes and runs aft. Putting his
+hands to his mouth. Bogey shouts:</p>
+
+<p>"Hi! there, drifterofsky, do yer
+savvy?" and makes a cut with his
+hand across his arm. "If yer makes de cut agin, I makes de shoot&mdash;(firing
+an imaginary rifle)&mdash;and that's from our skipper!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 305px;">
+<img src="images/i211.jpg" width="305" height="400" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I makes de shoot."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Bogey's mates laughed to hear him sprachen the German; but Jerry
+didn't cut the tow again.&mdash;<i>E. C. Gibson, 3 Slatin Road, Stroud, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="HERE_AND_THERE" id="HERE_AND_THERE">5. HERE AND THERE</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>Answered</h3>
+
+<p>We were a working party of British prisoners marching through the
+German barracks on our way to the parcel office. Coming towards
+us was a German officer on horseback. When he arrived abreast of us he
+shouted in very good English: "It's a long way to Tipperary, boys,
+isn't it?" This was promptly answered by a Cockney in the crowd:
+"Yus! And it's a ruddy long way to Paris, ain't it?"&mdash;<i>C. A. Cooke,
+O.B.E. (late R.N.D.), 34 Brandram Road, Lee High Road, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Prisoner has the Last Laugh</h3>
+
+<p>Scene: A small ward in Cologne Fortress, occupied by about twelve
+British prisoners of war.</p>
+
+<p>Time: The German M.O.'s inspection. Action: The new sentry on
+guard in the corridor had orders that all must stand on the M.O.'s entry.
+Seeing the M.O. coming, he called out to us. We jumped to it as best we
+could, except one, a Cockney, who had just arrived minus one leg and
+suffering from other injuries.</p>
+
+<p>Not knowing this, the sentry rushed over to him, yelling that he must
+stand. Seeing that no notice was being taken, he pointed his rifle directly
+at the Cockney. With an effort, since he was very weak and in great
+pain, the Cockney raised himself, caught hold of the rifle and, looking
+straight at it, said: "Dirty barrel&mdash;seven days!"</p>
+
+<p>The M.O., who had just arrived, heard the remark, and, understanding
+it, explained it to the sentry, who joined in our renewed laughter.&mdash;<i>A.
+V. White, 35 Mayville Road, Leytonstone, E.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Yet Introduced</h3>
+
+<p>We were prisoners of war, all taken before Christmas 1914, and had
+been drafted to Libau, on the Baltic coast.</p>
+
+<p>Towards the end of 1916 a party of us were working on the docks
+when a German naval officer approached and began talking to us.</p>
+
+<p>During the conversation he said he had met several English admirals
+and named some of them.</p>
+
+<p>After a little while a Cockney voice from the rear of our party said,
+"'Ave you ever met Jellicoe, mate?"</p>
+
+<p>The officer replied in the negative, whereupon the Cockney said,
+"Well, take yer bloomin' ships into the North Sea: he's looking for
+yer."&mdash;<i>F. A. F. (late K.O.Y.L.I.), 4 Shaftesbury Road, W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>On the Art of Conversation</h3>
+
+<p>In 1916 the British R.N.A.S. armoured cars, under Commander Oliver
+Locker-Lampson, went from Russia to Rumania to help to stem the
+enemy's advance.</p>
+
+<p>One day, at the frontier town of Reni, I saw a Cockney petty officer
+engaged in earnest conversation with a Russian soldier. Finally, the
+two shook hands solemnly, saluted, and parted.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he speak English?" I asked when the Russian had gone away.
+"Not 'im," said the P.O.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you speak Russian?" I asked, my curiosity aroused.
+"No bloomin' fear!" he said, for all the world as if I had insulted him.</p>
+
+<p>"Then how do you speak to each other?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's easy, sir," he said. "'E comes up to me an' says 'Ooski,
+kooski, wooski, fooski.' 'Same to you,' says I, 'an' many of 'em, ol'
+cock.' 'Bzz-z-z, mzz-z-z, tzz-z-z,' says 'e. 'Thanks,' I says. 'Another
+time, ol' boy. I've just 'ad a couple.' 'Tooralski, looralski, pooralski,'
+'e says. 'Ye don't say!' says I. 'An' very nice, too,' I says, 'funny
+face!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Armony," he explained. "No quarrellin', no argifyin', only
+peace an' 'armony.... Of course, sir, every now an' again I says 'Go
+to 'ell, y' silly blighter!'"</p>
+
+<p>"What for?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me coldly. "'Ow do I know but what the blighter's
+usin' insultin' words to me?" he asked.&mdash;<i>R. S. Liddell, Rosebery Avenue,
+E.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Down Hornsey Way</h3>
+
+<p>Here is a story of the Cockney war spirit at home. We called him
+"London" as he was the only Londoner in the troop. Very pale
+and slight, he gave the impression of being consumptive, yet he was
+quite an athlete, as his sprinting at the brigade sports showed.</p>
+
+<p>We had been on a gunnery course up Hornsey way, and with skeleton
+kit were returning past a large field in which were three gas chambers
+used for gas drill. No one was allowed even to go in the field unless
+equipped with a gas-mask. Suddenly a voice called out, "Look, there's
+a man trying to get in yon chamber."</p>
+
+<p>We shouted as loud as we could, but beyond waving his arms the figure&mdash;which
+looked to be that of a farm labourer&mdash;continued to push at the
+door. Then I saw "London" leap the gate of the field and sprint
+towards the chamber. When he was about 50 yards off the man gave
+a sudden lurch at the door and passed within. We called to "London"
+to come back, but a couple of seconds later he too was lost from view.</p>
+
+<p>One minute&mdash;it seemed like an hour&mdash;two, three, five, ten, and out
+came "London." He dragged with him the bulky labourer. Five
+yards from the chamber he dropped. Disregarding orders, we ran to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+his assistance. Both his eyes were swollen, his lip was cut, and a large
+gash on the cheek-bone told not of gas, but of a fight.</p>
+
+<p>He soon came to&mdash;and pointing to his many cuts said, "Serves me right
+for interfering. Thought the fellah might have been gassed, but there's
+none in there; and hell&mdash;he <i>can</i> hit."&mdash;<i>"Selo-Sam," late Yorks Dragoons.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"... Wouldn't Come Off"</h3>
+
+<p>He hailed from Walworth and was the unfortunate possessor of a
+permanent grin.</p>
+
+<p>The trouble began at the training camp at Seaford when the captain
+was inspecting the company.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you grinning at?" said he. "Beg parding," replied
+Smiler, "but I can't help it, sir. I was born like it."</p>
+
+<p>On the "other side" it was the same. The captain would take
+Smiler's grin as a distinct attempt to "take a rise" out of him. The
+result was that all the worst jobs seemed to fall upon the luckless Londoner.</p>
+
+<p>He was one of the "lucky lads" selected one night for a working
+party. While he was so engaged Jerry sent over a packet which was
+stopped by Smiler, and it was quickly apparent to him and to us that
+this was more than a Blighty one.</p>
+
+<p>As I knelt by his side to comfort him he softly whispered, "Say, mate,
+has Jerry knocked the blinkin' smile off?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I replied, "it's still there."</p>
+
+<p>Then, with a strange light in his eyes, he said, "Won't the captain be
+darned wild when he hears about it?"&mdash;<i>P. Walters (late Cpl., Royal
+Fusiliers), 20 Church Street, Woolwich, S.E.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>When In Greece...?</h3>
+
+<p>On a Greek island overlooking the Dardanelles, where we were
+stationed in 1916, my pal Sid and I were one day walking along a
+road when we saw approaching us a poor-looking knock-kneed donkey.
+On its back, almost burying it, was a huge pile of brushwood, and on top
+of this sat a Greek, whilst in front walked an elderly woman, probably
+his wife, also with a load of twigs on her back.</p>
+
+<p>Sid's face was a study in astonishment and indignation. "Strewth!"
+he muttered to himself. To the Greek he said, "Hi, 'oo the dickens
+d'you fink you are&mdash;the Lord Mayor? Come down orf of there!"</p>
+
+<p>The Greek didn't understand, of course, but Sid had him down. He
+seemed to be trying to remonstrate with Sid, but Sid wasn't "'avin'
+no excuses of that sort," and proceeded to reverse the order of things.
+He wanted "Ma" to "'op up an' 'ave a ride," but the timid woman
+declined. Her burden, however, was transferred to the man's back,
+and after surveying him in an O.C. manner, Sid said: "Nah, pass on,
+an' don't let it 'appen again!"&mdash;<i>H. T. Coad (late R.M.L.I.), 30 Moat
+Place, Stockwell, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Chef Drops a Brick</h3>
+
+<p>At a prisoners of war camp, in Havre, it was my duty to make a
+daily inspection of the compound within the barbed wire, and also
+the officers' quarters.</p>
+
+<p>In charge of the officers' mess was a little Cockney corporal, but
+practically all the cooking and other work was done by German prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>We had just put on trial a new cook, a German, who had told us that
+he had been a chef before the war at one of the big London hotels.</p>
+
+<p>I was making my usual inspection with my S. M., and when we came
+to the officers' mess he bawled out "'Shun! Officer's inspection, any
+complaints?"</p>
+
+<p>The new German cook apparently did not think that this applied to
+him, and, wanting to create a good impression, he strolled across to me
+in the best <i>maître d'hôtel</i> style, and exclaimed, "Goot mornung, sir.
+I tink ve are go'n to haf som rain."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i215.jpg" width="600" height="490" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ow long 'ave you bin a partner in the firm?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Our little corporal appeared astounded at this lack of respect, and,
+going over to the German, he said in a loud voice: "Put thet knife
+dahn, an' stand to attention. Ve'r gorn to 'ave some rine, indeed!"
+And then, in a louder voice, "<i>Ve</i> are. 'Ow long 'ave <i>you</i> bin a partner
+in the firm?"&mdash;<i>Lieut. Edwin J. Barratt (Ex-"Queens" R.W. Surrey
+Regt.), 8 Elborough Street, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>His "Read" Letter Day</h3>
+
+<p>At Sorrel le Grand, which our division had just taken in 1917, we
+took up a good position for our machine gun in a small dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>I was cleaning my revolver on one of the steps, and it accidentally
+went off.</p>
+
+<p>To my surprise and horror the bullet struck one of my comrades (who
+was in a sitting position) in the centre of his steel helmet, creating a
+huge dent.</p>
+
+<p>His remark was: "Lummy, it was a jolly good job I was reading one
+of my girl's letters," and then continued reading.&mdash;<i>Robt. Fisher (late
+Corpl., M.G.C.), 15 Mayesbrook Road, Goodmayes, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Dan, the Dandy Detective</h3>
+
+<p>Jerry's front line trench and ours were not three hundred yards
+apart. Over that sinister strip of ground attack and counter-attack
+had surged and ebbed in a darkness often turned to day by Verey lights
+and star-shells. Brave men on each side had reached their objective,
+but "fell Sergeant Death" often took charge.</p>
+
+<p>In our sector was a 1914 "Contemptible," who, despite mud and
+adverse conditions, made his New Army comrades smile at his barrack-room
+efforts to keep his uniform and equipment just so.</p>
+
+<p>Of Coster ancestry, his name was Dan, and, of course, they called him
+Dandy. He felt distinctly annoyed when on several days an officer
+passed him in the trench with the third button of his tunic missing. "'Is
+batman ought bloomin' well be for it," he soliloquised.</p>
+
+<p>Another night visit to Jerry's trench, and again some poor fellows
+stay there for keeps. In broad noonday Dan is once more aggrieved by
+seeing an officer with a button missing who halts in the trench to ask
+him the whereabouts of B.H.Q. and other details. The tunic looked the
+same, third button absent, <i>but it was not the same officer</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Now Dan's platoon sergeant, also a Londoner, was a man who had
+exchanged his truncheon for a more deadly weapon. Him Dan accosts:
+"I've a conundrum I'd like to arsk you, sergeant, as I don't see Sherlock
+'Olmes nowhere. W'y do orficers lose their third button?"</p>
+
+<p>As became an ex-policeman, the sergeant's suspicions were aroused
+by the coincidence, so much so indeed that he made discreet enquiries
+and discovered that the original owner of a tunic minus a third button
+had been reported missing, believed dead, after a recent trench raid.</p>
+
+<p>The adjutant very soon made it his business to intercept the new
+wearer and civilly invite him to meet the O.C. at B.H.Q. Result: a
+firing party at dawn.</p>
+
+<p>When the news of the spy filtered through, Dan's comment was;
+"Once, when a rookie, I was crimed at the Tower for paradin' with a
+button missin', but I've got even now by havin' an orficer crimed for the
+same thing, even if he <i>was</i> only a blinkin' 'Un!"&mdash;<i>H. G., Plaistow.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Apology</h3>
+
+<p>A heavily-laden and slightly intoxicated Tommy, en route to
+France, entered the Tube at Oxford Circus. As the train started he
+lurched and trod heavily on the toes of a very distinguished "Brass Hat."</p>
+
+<p>Grabbing hold of the strap, he leaned down apologetically and murmured:
+"<i>Sorry, Sergeant!</i>"&mdash;<i>Bert Thomas, Church Farm, Pinner,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;">
+<img src="images/i217.jpg" width="452" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Sorry, Sergeant!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Too Scraggy</h3>
+
+<p>We were prisoners in the infamous Fort Macdonald, near Lille,
+early in May 1917, rammed into the dungeons there for a sort of
+"levelling down process," i.e. starvation, brutal treatment, and general
+misery. After eleven days of it we were on our way, emaciated, silent,
+and miserable, to the working camps close behind the German lines,
+when a Cockney voice piped up:</p>
+
+<p>"Nah then, boys, don't be down 'earted. They kin knock yer abaht
+and cut dahn yer rations, but, blimey, they won't <i>eat</i> us&mdash;not nah!"&mdash;<i>G.
+F. Green, 14 Alma Square, St. John's Wood, N.W.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>So Why Worry?</h3>
+
+<p>The following, written by a London Colonel, was hung up in one of
+our dug-outs:</p>
+
+<p>"When one is a soldier, it is one of two things. One is either in a
+dangerous place, or a cushy one. If in the latter, there is no need to
+worry. If one is in a dangerous place, it is one of two things. One is
+wounded, or one is not. If one is not, there is no need to worry. If the
+former, it is either dangerous or slight. If slight, there is no need to
+worry, but if dangerous, it is one of two alternatives. One dies or
+recovers. If the latter, why worry? If you die you cannot. In these
+circumstances the real Tommy never worries."&mdash;<i>"Alwas," Windmill
+Road, Brentford, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Commended by the Kaiser</h3>
+
+<p>As prisoners of war we were unloading railway sleepers from trucks
+when a shell dump blew up. German guards and British prisoners
+scattered in all directions. Some of the Germans were badly wounded
+and, as shells continued to explode, no attempt was made by their comrades
+to succour them.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing the plight of the wounded, a Cockney lad called to some fellow-prisoners
+crouching on the ground, "We can't leave 'em to die like this.
+Who's coming with me?"</p>
+
+<p>He and others raced across a number of rail tracks to the wounded men
+and carried them to cover.</p>
+
+<p>For this act of bravery they were later commended by the then Kaiser.&mdash;<i>C.
+H. Porter (late East Surrey Regiment), 118 Fairlands Avenue,
+Thornton Heath, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Only Fog Signals</h3>
+
+<p>We were resting in Poperinghe in December 1915. One morning
+about 4.30 a.m. we were called out and rushed to entrain for
+Vlamertinghe because Jerry was attacking.</p>
+
+<p>The train was packed with troops, and we were oiling our rifle bolts and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
+checking our ammunition to be ready for action. We had not proceeded
+far when Jerry started trying to hit the train with some heavy
+shells. Several burst very close to the track.</p>
+
+<p>There was one young chap in our compartment huddled in a corner
+looking rather white. "They seem to be trying to hit the train," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Darkie" Webb, of Poplar, always cheerful and matter-of-fact,
+looked across at the speaker and said, "'It the train? No fear, mate,
+them's only signals; there's fog on the line."&mdash;<i>B. Pigott (late Essex
+Regt.), 55 Burdett Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>An American's Hustle</h3>
+
+<p>I was on the extreme right of the British line on March 22, 1918, and
+was severely wounded. I was picked up by the U.S. Red Cross.</p>
+
+<p>There was accommodation for four in the ambulance, and this was
+apportioned between two Frenchmen, a Cockney gunner, and myself.</p>
+
+<p>Anxious to keep our spirits up, the kindly Yankee driver said, "Cheer
+up! I'll soon get you there and see you put right," and as if to prove his
+words he rushed the ambulance off at express speed, with the result
+that in a few moments he knocked down a pedestrian.</p>
+
+<p>A short rest whilst he adjusted matters with the unfortunate individual,
+then off again at breakneck speed.</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney had, up to now, been very quiet, but when our driver
+barely missed a group of Tommies and in avoiding them ran into a wagon,
+the Londoner raised himself on his elbow and in a hoarse voice said,
+"Naw then, Sam, what the 'ell are you playing at? 'Aint yer got
+enough customers?"&mdash;<i>John Thomas Sawyer (8th East Surreys), 88
+Wilcox Road, S.W.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Truth about Parachutes</h3>
+
+<p>Most English balloon observers were officers, but occasionally a
+non-commissioned man was taken up in order to give him experience.</p>
+
+<p>On one such occasion the balloon burst in the air. The two occupants
+made a hasty parachute exit from the basket. The courtesy usually
+observed by the senior officer, of allowing the other parachute to get clear
+before he jumps, was not possible in this instance, with the result that
+the officer got entangled with the "passenger's" parachute, which
+consequently did not open.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately the officer's parachute functioned successfully and brought
+both men safely to earth. Upon landing they were rather badly dragged
+along the ground, being finally pulled up in a bush.</p>
+
+<p>The "passenger," a Cockney sergeant, was damaged a good deal, but
+upon being picked up and asked how he had enjoyed his ride he answered,
+"Oh, it was all right, but a parachute is like a wife or a toof-brush&mdash;you
+reely want one to yourself."&mdash;<i>Basil Mitchell (late R.A.F.), 51 Long Lane,
+Finchley, N.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Linguist</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 548px;">
+<img src="images/i220.jpg" width="548" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Moi&mdash;vous&mdash;'im&mdash;avec Allah!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>An Indian mule driver had picked up a German hand grenade of the
+"potato masher" type, which he evidently regarded as a heaven-sent
+implement for driving in a peg. Two Tommies tried to dissuade
+him, but, though he desisted, he was obviously puzzled. So one of the
+Cockneys tried to explain. "Vous compree Allah?" he asked, and
+raised his hand above his head. Satisfied that the increasing look of
+bewilderment was really one of complete enlightenment, he proceeded to
+go through a pantomime of striking with the "potato masher" and,
+solemnly pointing in turn to himself, to the Indian, and to his companion,
+said: "Moi, vous, and 'im&mdash;avec Allah."&mdash;<i>J. F. Seignoir (Lt., R.A.),
+13 Moray Place, Cheshunt, Herts.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Billiards isn't all Cannons</h3>
+
+<p>My regiment was in action on the Marne on September 20, 1914.
+We had been hammering, and had been hammered at, for some hours,
+until there were very few of us left, and those few, being almost all of them
+wounded or short of ammunition, were eventually captured and taken
+behind the German lines.</p>
+
+<p>As we passed their trenches we saw a great number of German wounded
+lying about.</p>
+
+<p>One of our lads, a reservist, who was a billiards marker in Stepney,
+although badly wounded, could not resist a gibe at a German officer.</p>
+
+<p>"Strewth, Old Sausage and Mash," he cried, "your blokes may be good
+at the cannon game, but we can beat yer at pottin' the blinkin' red.
+Look at yer perishin' number board" (meaning the German killed and
+wounded). And with a sniff of contempt he struggled after his mates
+into captivity.&mdash;<i>T. C. Rainbird (late Pte., 1st West Yorks), 41 Cavalry
+Crescent, Eastbourne, Sussex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Run?&mdash;Not Likely</h3>
+
+<p>It was the beginning of the spring offensive, 1918, and the 2nd Army
+Gun School, Wisques, was empty, as the men had gone into the line.
+A handful of Q.M.A.A.C. cooks were standing by.</p>
+
+<p>I sent two little Cockney girls over to the instructors' château to keep
+the fires up in case the men returned suddenly. I went to the camp gate
+as an enemy bombing plane passed over. The girls had started back,
+and were half-way across the field. The plane flew so low that the men
+leaned over the side and jeered at us.</p>
+
+<p>I held my breath as it passed the girls&mdash;would they shoot them in
+passing? The girls did not hasten, but presently reached me with faces
+as white as paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you run?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Lor', mum," came the reply, "yer didn't think as 'ow we was a-goin'
+ter run with them there Germans up there, did ye? Not much!"&mdash;<i>C. N.
+(late U.A., Q.M.A.A.C.), Heathcroft, Hampstead Way, N.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>At "The Bow Bells" Concert</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst having a short spell away from the front line I attended
+a performance given in Arras by the divisional concert party,
+"The Bow Bells."</p>
+
+<p>During one of the items a long-range shell struck the building, fortunately
+without causing any casualties among the audience.</p>
+
+<p>Although front-line troops are not given to "windiness," the unexpectedness
+of this unwelcome arrival brought about a few moments'
+intense silence, which was broken by a Cockney who remarked, "Jerry
+<i>would</i> come in wivvaht payin'."&mdash;<i>L. S. Smith (late 1-7 Middlesex Regt.,
+56th Division, B.E.F.), 171 Langham Road, N.15.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Bomb and a Pillow</h3>
+
+<p>During part of the war my work included salving and destroying
+"dud" shells and bombs in the back areas. On one occasion in an
+air-raid a "dud" bomb glanced through the side of a hut occupied by
+some fitters belonging to an M.T. section of R.E.'s.</p>
+
+<p>This particular bomb (weighing about 100 lb.), on its passage through
+the hut had torn the corner of a pillow on which the owner's head was
+lying and carried feathers for several feet into the ground.</p>
+
+<p>We dug about ten feet down and then, as the hole filled with water
+as fast as we could pump it out, we gave it up, the tail, which had become
+detached a few feet down, being the only reward of our efforts.</p>
+
+<p>While we were in the midst of our operations the owner of the pillow&mdash;very
+"bucked" at being unhurt after such a narrow shave&mdash;came to
+look on, and with a glance down the hole and a grin at me said, "Well,
+sir, if I'd known it 'ud give yer so much trouble, I'd 'a caught it!"&mdash;<i>Arthur
+G. Grutchfield (late Major (D.A.D.O.S. Ammn.) R.A.O.C.),
+Hill Rise, Sanderstead Road, Sanderstead, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Athletics in the Khyber Pass</h3>
+
+<p>During the Afghan operations I was resting my company on the
+side of the road at the Afghan entrance to the Khyber Pass. It was
+mid-day and the heat was terrific, when along that heat-stricken road came
+a British battalion. They had marched 15 miles that morning from Ali
+Musfd. Their destination was Landi Kana, five miles below us on the
+plain.</p>
+
+<p>As they came round the bend a cheer went up, for they spotted specks
+of white canvas in the distance. Most of the battalion seemed to be on
+the verge of collapse from the heat, but one Tommy, a Cockney, broke
+from the ranks and had a look at the camp in the distance, and exclaimed:
+"Coo! If I 'ad me running pumps I could sprint it!"&mdash;<i>Capt. A. G. A.
+Barton, M.C., Indian Army, "The Beeches," The Beeches Road, Perry
+Bar, Birmingham.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jack and his Jack Johnsons</h3>
+
+<p>In September 1915 our battery near Ypres was crumped at intervals
+of twenty minutes by 18-in. shells. The craters they made could
+easily contain a lorry or two.</p>
+
+<p>One hit by the fifth shell destroyed our château completely. Leaving
+our dug-outs I found a gunner smoking fags under the fish-net camouflage
+at Number One gun.</p>
+
+<p>Asked sternly why he had not gone to ground, he replied, "Well,
+yer see, sir, I'm really a sailor and when the earth rocks with Jack
+Johnsons I feels at 'ome like. Besides, the nets keeps off the flies."&mdash;<i>G. C. D.
+(ex-Gunner Subaltern, 14th Div.), Sister Agnes Officers' Hospital,
+Grosvenor Crescent, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Even Davy Jones Protested</h3>
+
+<p>Towards the final stages of the Palestine front operations, when
+Johnny Turk was retreating very rapidly, I was detailed with others
+to clear and destroy enemy ammunition that had been left behind.</p>
+
+<p>When near the Sea of Galilee there was discovered a dump of aerial
+bombs, each approximately 25 lb. in weight. Thinking it quicker and
+attended by less risk than the usual detonation, I decided to drop them
+in the sea.</p>
+
+<p>About ten bombs were placed aboard a small boat, and I with three
+others pushed out about two hundred yards. Two of the bombs were
+dropped overboard without ever a thought of danger when suddenly
+there was a heavy, dull explosion beneath us, and boat, cargo, and crew
+were thrown into the air.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody was hurt. All clung to the remains of the boat, and we were
+brought back to our senses by one of our Cockney companions, who
+remarked: "Even Davy Jones won't have the ruddy fings."&mdash;<i>A. W.
+Owen (late Corporal, Desert Corps), 9 Keith Road, Walthamstow, E.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Parti? Don't blame 'im!"</h3>
+
+<p>One summer afternoon in 1915 I was asked to deliver an official letter
+to the Mayor of Poperinghe. The old town was not then so well
+known as Toc H activities have since made it. At the time it was being
+heavily strafed by long-range guns. Many of the inhabitants had fled.</p>
+
+<p>I rode over with a pal. The door of the <i>mairie</i> was open, but the building
+appeared as deserted as the great square outside.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a Belgian gendarme walked in and looked at us inquiringly.
+I showed him the buff envelope inscribed "<i>Monsieur le Maire</i>," whereupon
+he smiled and said, "<i>Parti</i>."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment there was a deafening crash outside and the air was
+filled with flying debris and acrid smoke. In a feeling voice my chum
+quietly remarked, "And I don't blinkin' well blame 'im, either!"&mdash;<i>F.
+Street, 13 Greenfield Road, Eastbourne.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="center"><br /><br />
+<i>Printed in Great Britain by Hasell, Watson &amp; Viney, Ltd., London and Aylesbury.<br /><br />
+Published by Associated Newspapers, Ltd., London, E.C.4.</i>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="transnote">
+<h2>Transcriber's Notes</h2>
+
+<p>Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.</p>
+
+<p>Hyphenation was made consistent.</p>
+
+<p>P. 49: "Dorian Lake" changed to "Doiran Lake".</p>
+
+<p>P. 103: "Hindenbrug" changed to "Hindenburg".</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44263 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #44263 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44263)
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+Project Gutenberg's 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 23, 2013 [EBook #44263]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COCKNEY WAR STORIES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Brian Coe, Moti Ben-Ari and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was created from images of public domain material
+made available by the University of Toronto Libraries
+(http://link.library.utoronto.ca/booksonline/).)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    500 OF THE BEST
+    COCKNEY
+    WAR
+    STORIES
+
+    REPRINTED FROM THE LONDON
+    Evening News
+
+    AND ILLUSTRATED BY
+    BERT THOMAS
+
+    WITH AN OPENING YARN BY
+    GENERAL
+    SIR IAN HAMILTON
+    G.C.B., G.C.M.G., D.S.O., etc.
+    Vice-President of the British Legion
+    President of the Metropolitan Area of the
+    British Legion
+
+    ASSOCIATED NEWSPAPERS LTD.
+    LONDON, E.C.4
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S FOREWORD
+
+
+In the remembering, and in the retelling, of those war days when
+laughter sometimes saved men's reason, Cockneys the world over have
+left to posterity a record of noble and imperishable achievement.
+
+From the countless tales collected by the London _Evening News_ these
+five hundred, many of them illustrated by the great war-time artist,
+Bert Thomas, have been chosen as a fitting climax and perpetuation.
+
+Sir Ian Hamilton's story of another war shows that, however much
+methods of fighting may vary from generation to generation, there is no
+break in continuity of a great tradition, that the spirits of laughter
+and high adventure are immortal in the make-up of the British soldier.
+
+Sir Ian's story is doubly fitting. As President of the Metropolitan
+Area of the British Legion he is intimately concerned with the
+after-war welfare of just that Tommy Atkins who is immortalised in
+these pages. In the second place, all profits from the sale of this
+book will be devoted to the cause which the Higher Command in every
+branch of the Services is fostering--the British Legion.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+    SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY
+    1. ACTION
+    2. LULL
+    3. HOSPITAL
+    4. HIGH SEAS
+    5. HERE AND THERE #/
+
+
+
+
+SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY
+
+
+The Great War was a matrix wherein many anecdotes have sprouted.
+They are short-lived plants--fragile as mushrooms--none too easy to
+extricate either, embedded as they are in the mass.
+
+To dig out the character of a General even from the plans of his
+General Staff is difficult; how much more difficult to dig out the
+adventures of Number 1000 Private Thomas Atkins from those of the other
+999 who went "like one man" with him over the top? In the side-shows
+there was more scope for the individual and in the Victorian wars
+much more scope. To show the sort of thing I mean I am going to put
+down here for the first time an old story, almost forgotten now, in
+the hopes that it may interest by its contrast to barrages and barbed
+wire. Although only an old-fashioned affair of half a dozen bullets and
+three or four dead men it was a great event to me as it led to my first
+meeting with the great little Bobs of Kandahar.
+
+On the morning of September 11, 1879, I lay shivering with fever and
+ague at Alikhel in Afghanistan. So sick did I seem that it was decided
+I should be carried a day's march back to G.H.Q. on the Peiwar Kotal to
+see if the air of that high mountain pass would help me to pull myself
+round. Polly Forbes, a boy subaltern not very long from Eton, was sent
+off to play the part of nurse.
+
+We reached the Peiwar Kotal without any adventure, and were allotted
+a tent in the G.H.Q. camp pitched where the road between the Kurram
+Valley and Kabul ran over the high Kotal or pass. Next morning,
+although still rather weak in the knees, I felt game for a ride to the
+battlefield. So we rode along the high ridge through the forest of
+giant deodars looking for mementoes of the battle. The fact was that we
+were, although we knew it not, in a very dangerous No Man's Land.
+
+We had reached a point about two miles from camp when we were startled
+by half a dozen shots fired in quick succession and still more startled
+to see some British soldiers rushing down towards us from the top of a
+steep-sided knoll which crowned the ridge to our immediate front.
+
+Close past us rushed those fugitives and on, down the hillside, where
+at last, some hundred yards below us, they pulled up in answer to our
+shouts. But no amount of shouts or orders would bring them up to us,
+so we had to get off our ponies and go down to them. There were seven
+of them--a Corporal and three men belonging to one of the new short
+service battalions and three signallers--very shaky the whole lot. Only
+one was armed with his rifle; he had been on sentry-go at the moment
+the signalling picquet had been rushed--so they said--by a large body
+of Afghans.
+
+What was to be done? I realised that I was the senior. Turning to the
+Corporal I asked him if he could ride. "Yes, sir," he replied rather
+eagerly. "Well, then," I commanded, "you get on to that little white
+mare up there and ride like hell to G.H.Q. for help. You others go up
+with him and await orders." Off they went, scrambling up the hill,
+Forbes and I following rather slowly because of my weakness. When we
+got up to the path, ponies, syces, all had disappeared except that one
+soldier who had stuck to his rifle.
+
+All was as still as death in the forest where we three now stood alone.
+"Where are the others?" I asked the man. "I think they must be killed."
+"Do you think they are up there?" "Yessir!" So I turned to Forbes and
+said, "If there are wounded or dead up there we must go and see what we
+can do."
+
+Where we stood we were a bit far away from the top of the wooded hill
+for a jezail shot to carry and once we began to climb the slope we
+found ourselves in dead ground. Nearing the top, my heart jumped into
+my mouth as I all but put my foot on a man's face. Though I dared not
+take my eyes off the brushwood on the top of the hill, out of the
+corner of my eye I was aware he was a lascar and that he must be dead,
+for his head had nearly been severed from his body.
+
+At that same moment we heard a feeble cry in Hindustani, "_Shabash,
+Sahib log, chello!_" "Bravo, Gentlemen, come along!" This came from
+another lascar shot through the body--a plucky fellow. "_Dushman kahan
+hain?_"--"Where are the enemy?" I whispered. "When the sahibs shouted
+from below they ran away," he said, and at that, side by side with the
+revolvers raised to fire, Forbes and I stepped out on to the cleared
+and levelled summit of the hill, a space about fifteen feet by twenty.
+
+All was quiet and seemed entirely normal. There stood the helio and
+there lay the flags. Most astonishing of all, there, against a pile
+of logs, rested the priceless rifles of the picquet guard with their
+accoutrements and ammunition pouches lying on the ground beside them.
+Making a sign to Forbes we laid down our revolvers ready to hand, took,
+each of us, a rifle, loaded it, fixed the bayonet and stood at the
+ready facing the edge of the forest about thirty yards away.
+
+Even in these days when my memory is busy chucking its seventy years or
+so of accumulations overboard, the memory of that tense watch into the
+forest remains as fresh as ever. For the best part of half an hour it
+must have lasted. At last we heard them--not the Afghans but our own
+chaps, coming along the ridge and now they were making their way in
+open order up the hill--a company of British Infantry together with a
+few Pathan auxiliaries, the whole under command of Captain Stratton of
+the 22nd Foot, head Signaller to the Force.
+
+In few words my story was told and at once bold Stratton determined
+to pursue down the far side of the hill. Stratton had told me to go
+back to camp, but I did not consider that an order and, keeping on the
+extreme left of the line so that he should not see me, I pushed along.
+
+I noticed that the young soldier of the picquet who had stuck to his
+rifle was still keeping by me as the long line advanced down the slope,
+which gradually bifurcated into two distinct spurs. The further we went
+the wider apart drew the spurs and the deeper became the intervening
+nullah. Captain Stratton, Forbes, and the Regimental Company commander
+were all on the other or eastern spur and the men kept closing in
+towards them, until at last everyone, bar myself and my one follower,
+had cleared off the western spur. I did not want to cross the
+nullah, feeling too weak and tired to force my way through the thick
+undergrowth. Soon we could no longer hear or see the others.
+
+Suddenly I heard Click! "Take cover!" I shouted and flung myself behind
+a big stone. Sure enough, the moment often imagined had come! Not more
+than twenty paces down the slope an old, white-bearded, wicked-looking
+Enemy was aiming at me with his long jezail from behind a fallen log.
+Click! again. Another misfire.
+
+Now I was musketry instructor of my regiment, which had been the best
+shooting regiment in India the previous year. My revolver was a rotten
+little weapon, but I knew its tricks. As the Afghan fumbled with his
+lock I took aim and began to squeeze the trigger. Another instant and
+he would have been dead when bang! went a rifle behind me; my helmet
+tilted over my eyes, my shot went where we found it next day, about six
+feet up into a tree. The young soldier had opened rapid fire just over
+my head.
+
+At the same time, I saw another Afghan come crouching through the
+brushwood below me towards a point where he would be able to enfilade
+my stone. I shouted to my comrade, "I'm coming back to you," and turned
+to make for his tree. Luck was with me. At that very moment bang went
+the jezail and when we dug out the bullet next morning and marked the
+line of fire, it became evident that had I not so turned I would never
+have sat spinning this yarn.
+
+That shot was a parting salute. There were shouts from the right of the
+line, and as I was making for my tree the Afghans made off in the other
+direction. I shouted to Stratton and his men to press down to the foot
+of the hill, working round to the north so as to cut off the raiders.
+Then, utterly exhausted, I began my crawl back to the camp.
+
+Soon after I had got in I was summoned into the presence of the
+redoubtable Bobs. Although I had marched past him at Kohat this was
+my first face-to-face meeting with one who was to play the part
+of Providence to my career. He made me sit in a chair and at once
+performed the almost incredible feat of putting me entirely at my ease.
+This he did by pouring a golden liquid called sherry into a very large
+wine-glass. Hardly had I swallowed this elixir when I told him all
+about everything, which was exactly what he wanted.
+
+A week later the Commander of the Cavalry Brigade, Redan Massy, applied
+to Headquarters for an Aide-de-Camp. Sir Fred Roberts advised him to
+take me. That billet led to unimaginable bliss. Surrounding villages
+by moonlight, charging across the Logar Valley, despising all foot
+sloggers--every sort of joy I had longed for. The men of the picquet
+who had run away were tried by Court Martial and got long sentences,
+alas--poor chaps! The old Mullah was sent to his long account by
+Stratton.
+
+But that is the point of most war stories; when anyone gets a lift up
+it is by the misfortune or death of someone else.
+
+    IAN HAMILTON.
+
+
+
+
+COCKNEY WAR STORIES
+
+
+1. ACTION
+
+
+The Outside Fare
+
+During the third battle of Ypres a German field gun was trying to hit
+one of our tanks, the fire being directed no doubt by an observation
+balloon.
+
+On the top of the tank was a Cockney infantryman getting a free ride
+and seemingly quite unconcerned at Jerry's attempts to score a direct
+hit on the tank.
+
+[Illustration: "Hi, conductor! Any room inside?--it's rainin'!"]
+
+As the tank was passing our guns a shrapnel shell burst just behind it
+and above it.
+
+We expected to see the Cockney passenger roll off dead. All he did,
+however, was to put his hand to his mouth and shout to those inside the
+tank: "Hi, conductor! Any room inside?--it's rainin'!"--_A. H. Boughton
+(ex "B" Battery, H.A.C.), 53 Dafforne Road, S.W.17._
+
+
+"Barbed Wire's Dangerous!"
+
+A wiring party in the Loos salient--twelve men just out from home.
+Jerry's Verey lights were numerous, machine-guns were unpleasantly
+busy, and there were all the dangers and alarms incidental to a sticky
+part of the line. The wiring party, carrying stakes and wire, made its
+way warily, and every man breathed apprehensively. Suddenly one London
+lad tripped over a piece of old barbed wire and almost fell his length.
+
+"Lumme," he exclaimed, "that ain't 'arf dangerous!"--_T. C. Farmer,
+M.C., of Euston Square, London (late of "The Buffs")._
+
+
+Tale of an Egg
+
+I was attached as a signaller to a platoon on duty in an advanced post
+on the Ypres-Menin Road. We had two pigeons as an emergency means of
+communication should our wire connection fail.
+
+One afternoon Fritz put on a strafe which blew in the end of the
+culvert in which we were stationed. We rescued the pigeon basket from
+the debris and discovered that an egg had appeared.
+
+That evening, when the time came to send in the usual evening
+"situation report," I was given the following message to transmit:
+
+"Pigeon laid one egg; otherwise situation normal."--_D. Webster, 85
+Highfield Avenue, N.W.11._
+
+
+"No Earfkwikes"
+
+On a bitterly cold, wet afternoon in February 1918 four privates and
+a corporal were trying to take what shelter they could. One little
+Cockney who had served in the Far East with the 10th Middlesex was
+complaining about everything in general, but especially about the
+idiocy of waging war in winter.
+
+"Wot yer grumblin' at?" broke in the corporal, "you with yer fawncy
+tyles of Inja? At any rate, there ain't no blinking moskeeters 'ere nor
+'orrible malyria."
+
+There was a break in the pleasantries as a big one came over. In the
+subsequent explosion the little Cockney was fatally wounded.
+
+"Corpril," the lad gasped, as he lay under that wintry sky, "you fergot
+to menshun there ain't no bloomin' sun-stroke, _nor no earfkwikes,
+neither_."
+
+And he smiled--a delightful, whimsical smile--though the corporal's
+"Sorry, son" was too late.--_V. Meik, 107 King Henry's Road, N.W.3._
+
+
+A "Bow Bells" Heroine
+
+For seven hours, with little intermission, the German airmen bombed a
+camp not a hundred miles from Etaples. Of the handful of Q.M.A.A.C.s
+stationed there, one was an eighteen-year-old middle-class girl,
+high-strung, sensitive, not long finished with her convent school.
+Another was Kitty, a Cockney girl of twenty, by occupation a
+machine-hand, by vocation (missed) a comédienne, and, by heaven, a
+heroine.
+
+The high courage of the younger girl was cracking under the strain
+of that ordeal by bombs. Kitty saw how it was with her, and for five
+long hours she gave a recital of song, dialogue, and dance--most of it
+improvised--while the bombs fell and the anti-aircraft guns screamed.
+In all probability she saved the younger girl's reason.
+
+When the last raider had dropped the last bomb, Kitty sank down, all
+but exhausted, and for long cried and laughed hysterically. Hers was
+not the least heroic part played upon that night.--_H. N., London, E._
+
+
+Samson, but Shorn
+
+During the German attack near Zillebeke in June 1916 a diminutive
+Cockney, named Samson, oddly enough, received a scalp wound from a
+shell splinter which furrowed a neat path through his hair.
+
+The fighting was rather hot at the time, and this great-hearted little
+Londoner carried on with the good work.
+
+Some hours later came the order to fall back, and as the Cockney was
+making his way down the remains of a trench, dazed and staggering, a
+harassed sergeant, himself nearly "all in," ordered him to bear off a
+couple of rifles and a box of ammunition.
+
+This was the last straw. "Strike, sergeant," he said, weakly, "I
+can't 'elp me name being Samson, but I've just 'ad me perishin' 'air
+cut!"--"_Townie," R.A.F._
+
+
+"What's Bred in the Bone----!"
+
+When we were at Railway Wood, Ypres Salient, in 1916, "Muddy Lane,"
+our only communication trench from the front line to the support line,
+had been reduced to shapelessness by innumerable "heavies." Progress
+in either direction entailed exposure to snipers in at least twelve
+different places, and runners and messengers were, as our sergeant put
+it, "tickled all the way."
+
+In the support line one afternoon, hearing the familiar "Crack! Crack!
+Crack!" I went to Muddy Lane junction to await the advertised visitor.
+He arrived--a wiry little Cockney Tommy, with his tin hat dented in two
+places and blood trickling from a bullet graze on the cheek.
+
+In appreciation of the risk he had run I remarked, "Jerry seems to be
+watching that bit!"
+
+"Watching!" he replied. "'Struth! I felt like I was walking darn
+Sarthend Pier naked!"--_Vernon Sylvaine, late Somerset L.I., Grand
+Theatre, Croydon._
+
+
+A Very Human Concertina
+
+In March 1918, when Jerry was making his last great attack, I was in
+the neighbourhood of Petit Barisis when three enemy bombing planes
+appeared overhead and gave us their load. After all was clear I
+overheard this dialogue between two diminutive privates of the 7th
+Battalion, the London Regiment ("Shiny Seventh"), who were on guard
+duty at the Q.M. Stores:
+
+"You all right, Bill?"
+
+"Yes, George!"
+
+"Where'd you get to, Bill, when he dropped his eggs?"
+
+"Made a blooming concertina of meself and got underneaf me blinkin' tin
+'at!"--_F. A. Newman, 8 Levett Gardens, Ilford, Ex-Q.M.S., 8th London
+(Post Office Rifles)._
+
+
+A One-Man Army
+
+The 47th London Division were holding the line in the Bluff sector,
+near Ypres, early in 1917, and the 20th London Battalion were being
+relieved on a very wet evening, as I was going up to the front line
+with a working party.
+
+Near Hell Fire Corner shells were coming over at about three-minute
+intervals. One of the 20th London Lewis gunners was passing in full
+fighting order, with fur coat, gum boots, etc., carrying his Lewis gun,
+several drums of ammunition, and the inevitable rum jar.
+
+One of my working party, a typical Cockney, surveyed him and said:
+
+"Look! Blimey, he only wants a field gun under each arm and he'd be a
+bally division."--_Lieut.-Col. J. H. Langton, D.S.O._
+
+
+"Nah, Mate! Soufend!"
+
+During the heavy rains in the summer of 1917 our headquarters dug-out
+got flooded. So a fatigue party was detailed to bale it out.
+
+"Long Bert" Smith was one of our baling squad. Because of his abnormal
+reach, he was stationed at the "crab-crawl," his job being to throw the
+water outside as we handed the buckets up to him.
+
+It was a dangerous post. Jerry was pasting the whole area unmercifully
+and shell splinters pounded on the dug-out roof every few seconds.
+
+Twenty minutes after we had started work Bert got badly hit, and it was
+some time before the stretcher-bearers could venture out to him. When
+they did so he seemed to be unconscious.
+
+"Poor blighter!" said one of the bearers. "Looks to be going West."
+
+Bert, game to the last, opened his eyes and, seeing the canvas bucket
+still convulsively clutched in his right fist, "Nah, mate!" he
+grunted--"Soufend!"
+
+But the stretcher-bearer was right.--_C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street,
+W.C.I._
+
+
+"I Got 'Ole Nelson Beat!"
+
+Several stretcher cases in the field dressing station at the foot of
+"Chocolate Hill," Gallipoli, awaited removal by ambulance, including a
+Cockney trooper in the dismounted Yeomanry.
+
+He had a bandage round his head, only one eye was visible, and his left
+arm was bound to his breast with a sandbag.
+
+His rapid-fire of Cockney witticisms had helped to keep our spirits up
+while waiting--he had a comment for everything. Suddenly a "strafe"
+started, and a shrapnel shell shot its load among us.
+
+Confusion, shouts, and moans--then a half-hysterical, half-triumphant
+shout from the Cockney: "Lumme, one in the blinkin' leg this time. I
+got 'ole Nelson beat at last!"--_J. Coomer (late R.E.), 31 Hawthorn
+Avenue, Thornton Heath._
+
+
+Two Kinds of Fatalist
+
+A German sniper was busy potting at our men in a front-line trench at
+Cambrai in March 1918. A Cockney "old sweat," observing a youngster
+gazing over the parapet, asked him if he were a fatalist.
+
+The youngster replied "Yes."
+
+"So am I," said the Cockney, "but I believes in duckin'."--"_Brownie,"
+Kensal Rise, N.W.10._
+
+
+Double up, Beauty Chorus!
+
+One summer afternoon in '15 some lads of the Rifle Brigade were
+bathing in the lake in the grounds of the château at Elverdinghe, a
+mile or so behind the line at Ypres, when German shells began to land
+uncomfortably near. The swimmers immediately made for the land, and,
+drawing only boots on their feet, dashed for the cellar in the château.
+
+As they hurried into the shelter a Cockney sergeant bellowed, "Nah
+then, booty chorus: double up an' change for the next act!"--_G E.
+Roberts, M.C. (late Genl. List, att'd 21st Divn. Signal Co.), 28
+Sunbury Gardens, Mill Hill, N.W.7._
+
+
+The Theatre of War
+
+During the battle of Arras, Easter 1917, we were lying out in front
+of our wire in extended order waiting for our show to begin. Both our
+artillery and that of Fritz were bombarding as hard as they could. It
+was pouring with rain, and everybody was caked in mud.
+
+Our platoon officer, finding he had a good supply of chocolate, and
+realising that rations might not be forthcoming for some time, crept
+along the line and gave us each a piece.
+
+As he handed a packet to one cheerful Cockney he was asked, "Wot abaht
+a programme, sir?"--_W. B. Finch (late London Regiment), 155 High Road,
+Felixstowe._
+
+
+"It's the Skivvy's 'Arf Day Orf"
+
+Easter Monday, April 9, 1917. Night. Inches of snow and a weird silence
+everywhere after the turmoil of the day. Our battalion is held up in
+front of Monchy-le-Preux during the battle of Arras. I am sent out with
+a patrol to reconnoitre one of our tanks that is crippled and astride
+the German wire 300 yards out.
+
+[Illustration: "I'll have to let yer in meself ... it's the skivvy's
+'arf day orf!"]
+
+It is ticklish work, because the crew may be dead or wounded and Fritz
+in occupation. Very warily we creep around the battered monster and
+presently I tap gingerly on one of the doors. No response. We crawl to
+the other side and repeat the tapping process. At last, through the
+eerie silence, comes a low, hoarse challenge.
+
+"Oo are yer?"
+
+"Fusiliers!" I reply, as I look up and see a tousled head sticking
+through a hole in the roof.
+
+"Ho!" exclaims the voice above, "I'll 'ave ter come dahn and let yer in
+meself, it's the skivvy's 'arf day orf!"
+
+The speaker proved to have a shattered arm--among other things--and was
+the sole survivor of the crew.--_D. K., Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Cricket on the Somme
+
+"Spider" Webb was a Cockney--from Stepney, I believe--who was with us
+on the Somme in 1916. He was a splendid cricketer.
+
+We had had a very stiff time for six or seven hours and were resting
+during a lull in the firing. Then suddenly Jerry sent over five shells.
+After a pause another shell came over and burst near to "Spider" and
+his two pals.
+
+When the smoke cleared I went across to see what had happened.
+"Spider's" two pals were beyond help. The Cockney was propping himself
+up with his elbows surveying the scene.
+
+"What's happened, Webb?" I said. "Blimey! What's happened?" was the
+reply. "One over--two bowled" (and, looking down at his leg)--"and I'm
+stumped." Then he fainted.--_George Franks, M.C. (late Lieut., Royal
+Artillery), Ilford, Essex._
+
+
+M'Lord, of Hoxton
+
+We called him "M'lord." He came from Hoxton--"That's where they
+make 'em," he used to say. He was a great asset to us, owing to the
+wonderful way in which he went out and "won" things.
+
+One night, near Amiens, in 1916, "M'lord" said, "I'm going aht to see
+wot some uvver mob has got too much of." One or two of us offered to
+accompany him, but he refused, saying, "You bloomin' elephants 'ud be
+bahnd to give the gime away."
+
+About three hours later, when we were beginning to get anxious, we
+saw him staggering in with a badly wounded German, who was smoking a
+cigarette.
+
+Seeing us, and very much afraid of being thought soft-hearted, "M'lord"
+plumped old Fritz down on the fire-step and said very fiercely, "Don't
+you dare lean on me wif impunity, or wif a fag in your mouf."
+
+Jerry told us later that he had lain badly wounded in a deserted
+farmhouse for over two days, and "M'lord" had almost carried him for
+over a mile.
+
+"M'lord" was killed later on in the war. Our battalion was the 7th
+Batt. Royal Fusiliers (London Regt.)--_W. A., Windsor._
+
+
+The Tall Man's War
+
+In our platoon was a very tall chap who was always causing us great
+amusement because of his height. Naturally he showed his head above the
+parapet more often than the rest of us, and whenever he did so _ping_
+would come a bullet from a sniper and down our tall chum would drop in
+an indescribably funny acrobatic fashion.
+
+The climax came at Delville Wood in August 1916, when, taking over the
+line, we found the trench knocked about in a way that made it most
+uncomfortable for all of us. Here our tall friend had to resort to his
+acrobatics more than ever: at times he would crawl on all fours to
+"dodge 'em." One shot, however, caused him to dive down more quickly
+than usual--right into a sump hole in the trench.
+
+Recovering himself, he turned to us and, with an expression of
+unutterable disgust, exclaimed, "You blokes can laugh; anybody 'ud fink
+I was the only blighter in this war."--_C. Bragg (late Rifle Brigade,
+14th Division), 61 Hinton Road, Herne Hill, S.E.24._
+
+
+Germany Didn't Know This
+
+One night in June 1916, on the Somme, we were ordered to leave our line
+and go over and dig an advance trench. We returned to our trench before
+dawn, and shortly afterwards my chum, "Pussy" Harris, said to me, "I
+have left my rifle in No Man's Land."
+
+"Never mind," I said, "there are plenty more. Don't go over there: the
+snipers are sure to get you."
+
+But my advice was all in vain; he insisted on going. When I asked him
+why he wanted that particular rifle he said, "Well, the barrel is bent,
+_and it can shoot round corners_."
+
+He went over....
+
+That night I saw the regimental carpenter going along the trench with
+a roughly-made wooden cross inscribed "R.I.P. Pte. Harris."--_W. Ford,
+613 Becontree Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+Better than the Crystal Palace
+
+One night, while going round the line at Loos, I was accompanied by
+Sergeant Winslow, who was a London coster before the war.
+
+We were examining the field of fire of a Lewis gun, when the Germans
+opened up properly on our sector. Clouds of smoke rose from the
+surrounding trenches, crash after crash echoed around the old Loos
+crassier, and night was turned into day by Verey lights sent up by both
+sides.
+
+Suddenly a lad of 18, just out, turned to Sergeant Winslow, and in a
+quivering voice said: "My God, sergeant, this is awful!"
+
+Sergeant Winslow replied: "Now, look 'ere, me lad, you'd have paid 'alf
+a dollar to take your best gal to see this at the Crystal Palace before
+the war. What are yer grousing abaht?"--_A. E. Grant (late 17th Welch
+Regt.), 174 Broom Road, Teddington._
+
+
+A Short Week-end
+
+One Saturday evening I was standing by my dug-out in Sausage Valley,
+near Fricourt, when a draft of the Middlesex Regt. halted for the guide
+to take them up to the front line where the battalion was. I had a chat
+with one of the lads, who told me he had left England on the Friday.
+
+They moved off, and soon things got lively; a raid and counter-raid
+started.
+
+Later the casualties began to come down, and the poor chaps were lying
+around outside the 1st C.C.S. (which was next to my dug-out). On a
+stretcher was my friend of the draft. He was pretty badly hit. I gave
+him a cigarette and tried to cheer him by telling him he would soon be
+back in England. With a feeble smile he said, "Blimey, sir, this 'as
+been a short week-end, ain't it?"--_Pope Stamper (15th Durham L.I.),
+188A Upper Richmond Road, East Sheen, S.W.14._
+
+
+Simultaneous Chess
+
+At Aubers Ridge, near Fromelles, in October 1918, my chum and I were
+engrossed in a game of chess, our chessboard being a waterproof sheet
+with the squares painted on it, laid across a slab of concrete from a
+destroyed pill-box.
+
+The Germans began to drop 5·9's with alarming regularity about 150
+yards to our rear, temporarily distracting our attention from the game.
+
+Returning to the game, I said to my chum, "Whose move, Joe?"
+
+Before he could reply a shell landed with a deafening roar within a few
+yards of us, but luckily did not explode (hence this story).
+
+His reply was: "Ours"--and we promptly did.--_B. Greenfield, M.M. (late
+Cpl. R.F.A., 47th (London) Division), L.C.C. Parks Dept., Tooting Bec
+Common, S.W._
+
+
+Fire-step Philosophy
+
+On July 1, 1916, I happened to be among those concerned in the
+attack on the German line in front of Serre, near Beaumont Hamel.
+Our onslaught at that point was not conspicuously successful, but we
+managed to establish ourselves temporarily in what had been the Boche
+front line, to the unconcealed indignation of the previous tenants.
+
+During a short lull in the subsequent proceedings I saw one of my
+company--an elderly private whose melancholy countenance and lank black
+moustache will ever remain engraved on my memory--seated tranquilly on
+the battered fire-step, engrossed in a certain humorous journal.
+
+Meeting my astonished eye, he observed in a tone of mild resentment:
+"This 'ere's a dud, sir. 'S not a joke in it--not what _I_ calls a
+joke, anyway."
+
+So saying, he rose, pocketed the paper, and proceeded placidly to get
+on with the war.--_K. R. G. Browne, 6B Winchester Road, N.W.3._
+
+
+"Teddie" Gets the Last Word
+
+Sergeant "Teddie" was rather deaf, but I am inclined to think that this
+slight affliction enabled him to pull our legs on occasions.
+
+[Illustration: "A quarter to seven, sir."]
+
+Our company of the London Regiment had just taken over a part of the
+line known as the Paris Redoubt, and on the first evening in the sector
+the company commander, the second in command, Sergeant "Teddie," and
+myself had a stroll along the observation line, which was just forward
+of the front line, in order to visit the various posts.
+
+Suddenly a salvo of shells came over and one burst perilously near us.
+Three of the party adopted the prone position in record time, but on
+our looking round "Teddie" was seen to be still standing and apparently
+quite unconcerned.
+
+"Why the dickens didn't you get down?" said one of the party, turning
+to him. "It nearly had us that time."
+
+"Time?" said "Teddie," looking at his watch. "A quarter to seven,
+sir."--_J. S. O. (late C.S.M., 15th London Regt.)._
+
+
+"Nobbler's" Grouse
+
+Just before the battle of Messines we of the 23rd Londons were holding
+the Bluff sector to the right of Hill 60. "Stand down" was the order,
+and the sergeant was coming round with the rum.
+
+"Nobbler," late of the Mile End Road, was watching him in joyful
+anticipation when ... a whizz-bang burst on the parapet, hurling men
+in all directions. No one was hurt ... but the precious rum jar was
+shattered.
+
+"Nobbler," sitting up in the mud and moving his tin hat from his
+left eye the better to gaze upon the ruin, murmured bitterly:
+"Louvain--Rheims--the _Lusitania_--and now our perishin' rum issue.
+Jerry, you 'eathen, you gets worse and worse. But, my 'at, won't you
+cop it when 'Aig knows abaht this!"--_E. H. Oliver, Lanark House,
+Woodstock, Oxford._
+
+
+Dust in 'Indenburg's Sauerkraut!
+
+To all those thousands who remember Shrapnel Corner and the sign:
+"DRIVE SLOWLY! SPEED CAUSES DUST WHICH DRAWS THE ENEMY'S SHELL FIRE"
+this incident will appeal.
+
+I had rounded the corner into Zillebeke Road with a load of ammunition,
+and had gone about 200 yards along the road, when Fritz let go with a
+few shells.
+
+"Rum Ration" (my mate's nick-name) looked out of the lorry to observe
+where the shells were falling.
+
+"Nah we're for it," he exclaimed, "our dust must 'ave gorn into ole
+'Indenberg's blinkin' sauerkraut."--_J. H. Clarke, ex-Pte., M.T.A.S.C._
+
+
+A Valiant Son of London
+
+Crack! Crack! Crack!--and men falling with each crack. It is terrible;
+we are faced with mud, misery, and despair. A German machine-gun is
+taking its toll.
+
+It seems impossible to get at the gunners, and we spend hours lying
+in wait. This waiting proves too much for one of us; single-handed
+he takes a chance and crawls away from my side. I keep him covered;
+minutes roll by; they seem hours, days; and, as he is now out of sight,
+I begin to give up hope for him, my Cockney pal.
+
+Some instinct warns me to keep watch, and I am rewarded. I feel my eyes
+start from my head as I see the approaching procession--four Germans,
+hands above their heads, and my pal following, carrying the machine-gun
+across his shoulders. I marvel at his courage and wonder how it was
+done ... but this I am never to know. As I leap from the trench to give
+him assistance I realise his number is nearly up. He is covered with
+blood.
+
+I go to relieve him of his burden, and in that moment one of the
+Germans, sensing that my pal is almost out, turns on us with his
+revolver. We are held at the pistol-point and I know I must make a
+desperate bid to save my pal, who has done his best in an act which
+saved a portion of our line.
+
+I drop the gun and, with a quick movement, I am able to trip the
+nearest German, but he is quick too and manages to stick me (and I
+still carry the mark of his bayonet in my side).
+
+The realisation I am still able to carry on, that life is sweet, holds
+me up, and, with a pluck that showed his determination and Cockney
+courage, my pal throws himself into a position in which he can work the
+gun. _Crack!_ and _Crack!_ again: the remaining Germans are brought
+down.
+
+I am weak with loss of blood, but I am still able to drag my pal with
+me, and, aided by his determination, we get through. It seems we are at
+peace with the world. But, alas, when only five yards from our trenches
+a shell bursts beside us; I have a stinging pain in my shoulder and
+cannot move! Machine-guns and rifles are playing hell.
+
+My pal, though mortally wounded, still tries to drag me to our trench.
+He reaches the parapet ... _Zip_ ... _Zip_. The first has missed, but
+the second gets him. It is a fatal shot, and, though in the greatest
+agony, he manages to give me a message to his folks....
+
+He died at my side, unrewarded by man. The stretcher-bearer told me
+that he had five bullet-holes in him. He lies in France to-day, and I
+owe my life to him, and again I pay homage to his memory and to him
+as one of England's greatest heroes--a Valiant Son of London.--_John
+Batten (late Rifleman, 13 Bn., K.R.R.C.), 50 Sussex Gardens, Hyde Park,
+W.2._
+
+
+A Hint to the Brigadier
+
+Alec Lancaster was a showman at the White City in pre-war days. Short
+in stature, he possessed a mighty heart, and in the ghastly days in
+front of Poelcapelle he made history as the sergeant who took command
+of a brigadier.
+
+The brigadier had been on a visit to the front line to inspect a new
+belt of wire and, passing the ---- headquarters, paused to look around.
+
+Just then a few shells came over in quick succession and things looked
+nasty.
+
+Alec Lancaster took command and guided the brigadier somewhat forcibly
+into a dug-out with the laconic, "Nah, then. We don't want any dead
+brigadiers rahnd 'ere."--_Geo. B. Fuller, 146 Rye Road, Hoddesdon,
+Herts._
+
+
+"Salvage? Yus, Me!"
+
+On the third day of the German offensive in March 1918 a certain
+brigade of the R.F.A. was retiring on Péronne.
+
+A driver, hailing from London town, was in charge of the cook's cart,
+which contained officers' kits belonging to the headquarters' staff.
+
+As he was making his way along a "pip-squeak" came over and burst
+practically beneath the vehicle and blew the whole issue to pieces. The
+driver had a miraculous escape.
+
+When he recovered from the shock he ruefully surveyed the debris, and
+after deciding that nothing could be done, continued his journey on
+foot into Péronne.
+
+Just outside that town he was met by the Adjutant, who said, "Hullo,
+driver, what's happened--where's cook's cart with the kits?"
+
+DRIVER: Blown up, sir.
+
+ADJUTANT (_anxiously_): Anything salved?
+
+DRIVER: Yus, sir, me!--_F. H. Seabright, 12 Broomhill Road, Goodmayes,
+Essex._
+
+
+Almost Self-inflicted
+
+The London (47th) Division, after a strenuous time on the Somme in
+September 1916, were sent to Ypres for a quiet (?) spell, the depleted
+ranks being made up by reserves from home who joined us _en route_.
+
+The 18th Battalion (London Irish), were informed on taking the line
+that their opponents were men of the very same German regiment as they
+had opposed and vanquished at High Wood.
+
+Soon after "stand down" the following morning Rifleman S---- mounted
+the fire-step and, cupping his hands to his mouth, shouted, "Compree
+'Igh Wood, Fritz?"
+
+The words had hardly left his lips when _zip_, a sniper's bullet
+knocked his tin hat off his head and Rifleman S---- found himself lying
+on the duckboards with blood running down his face.
+
+Picking himself up, he calmly gathered his souvenirs together and said
+as he made his way out, "Cheerio, boys, I've got a Blighty one, but
+don't tell the colonel it was self-inflicted."--_A. C. B., Ilford,
+Essex._
+
+
+Nobby's 1,000 to 1 Chance
+
+Our division (the Third) was on its way from the line for the
+long-looked-for rest. We were doing it by road in easy stages.
+
+During a halt a pack animal (with its load of two boxes of "·303")
+became restive and bolted. One box fell off and was being dragged
+by the lashing. Poor old Nobby Clarke, who had been out since Mons,
+stopped the box with his leg, which was broken below the knee.
+
+As he was being carried away one of the stretcher-bearers said, "Well,
+Nobby, you've got a Blighty one at last."
+
+"Yus," said Nobby; "but it took a fousand rahnds to knock me
+over."--_H. Krepper (late 5th Fusiliers), 62 Anerley Road, Upper
+Norwood, S.E. 19._
+
+
+That Derby Scheme
+
+The Commanding Officer of a Territorial battalion was wounded in both
+hands during the third battle of Gaza in 1917. He had much service to
+his credit, was a lieutenant-colonel of over two years' standing, had
+been wounded twice before, and held the D.S.O.
+
+He pluckily remained with his unit for thirty-six hours. Then, worn
+out with lack of sleep, pain, and loss of blood, and filled with
+disappointment at having to leave his battalion still in the fight, he
+trudged back to the field ambulance.
+
+His sufferings, which had aged his appearance, and the Tommy's tunic
+which he wore in action, apparently misled a party of 10th London men
+whom he passed. They looked sympathetically at him, and one said, "Poor
+old blighter, _'e ought never to 'ave been called up_."--_Captain J.
+Finn, M.C., Constitutional Club, W.C.2._
+
+
+"Shoo-Shoo-Shooting"
+
+There were no proper trenches in front of Armentières in early December
+1914, and a machine gun section was doing its best to build an
+emplacement and cover. It was in the charge of a young Londoner who in
+times of excitement stuttered badly.
+
+Not being satisfied with the position of one sandbag, he hopped over
+those already in place, and in full view of Jerry (it was daylight
+too), began to adjust the sandbag that displeased him.
+
+Jerry immediately turned a machine gun on him, but the young officer
+finished his work, and then stood up.
+
+Looking towards Jerry as the section yelled to him to come down,
+he stuttered angrily. "I b-b-be-lieve the bli-bli-blighters are
+shoo-shoo-shoo-shoo-ting at me." At that moment someone grabbed his
+legs and pulled him down. It was a fine example of cool nerve.--_T. D.,
+Victoria, S.W.1._
+
+
+Ancient Britons?--No!
+
+It happened late in 1917 in Tank Avenue, just on the left of
+Monchy-le-Preux. It was a foul night of rain, wind, sleet, and
+whizz-bangs.
+
+My battalion had just been relieved, and we were making our way out as
+best we could down the miry communication trench. Every now and again
+we had to halt and press ourselves against the trench side to allow a
+straggling working party of the K.R.R.s to pass up into the line.
+
+Shells were falling all over the place, and suddenly Fritz dropped one
+right into the trench a few bays away from where I was.
+
+I hurried down and found two of the working party lying on the
+duckboards. They were both wounded, and one of them had his tunic
+ripped off him by the force of the explosion. What with his tattered
+uniform--and what remained of it--and his face and bare chest smothered
+in mud, he was a comical though pathetic sight. He still clung to his
+bundle of pickets he had been carrying and he sat up and looked round
+with a puzzled expression.
+
+One of our sergeants--a rather officious fellow--pushed himself forward.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked. "K.R.R.s?"
+
+"'Course," retorted the half-naked Cockney. "Oo d'ye fink we
+was--Ancient Britons?"--_E. Gordon Petrie (late Cameron Highlanders),
+"Hunky-Dory," Demesne Road, Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+Desert Island--Near Bullecourt
+
+Between Ecoust and Bullecourt in January 1918 my platoon was passing
+a mine crater which was half-full of water when suddenly Jerry sent
+one over. Six of our fellows were wounded, and one of them, a Bow Road
+Cockney, was hurled into the crater.
+
+[Illustration: "Robinson Crusoe."]
+
+He struggled to his feet and staggered towards a pile of rubble that
+rose above the muddy water like an island. Arrived there, he sat down
+and looked round him in bewilderment. Then: "Blimey," he muttered,
+"Robinson ruddy Crusoe!"--_E. McQuaid (late R.S.F.), 22 Grove Road,
+S.W.9._
+
+
+"Tiger's" Little Trick
+
+On October 11-12, 1914, during the Mons retreat, a small party of 2nd
+Life Guards were told off as outpost on the main road, near Wyngene,
+Belgium. After we had tied our horses behind a farmhouse at the side of
+the road, we settled down to await the arrival of "Jerry."
+
+Time went slowly, and one of our troopers suggested that we all put a
+half-franc into an empty "bully" tin, and the first one of us who shot
+a German was to take the lot. To this we all agreed.
+
+It was about midnight when, suddenly, out of the shadows, rode a German
+Death's-head Hussar. We all raised our rifles as one man, but before we
+could shoot "Tiger" Smith, one of our real Cockney troopers, shouted,
+"_Don't shoot! Don't shoot!_" During our momentary hesitation "Tiger's"
+rifle rang out, and off rolled the German into the road.
+
+Upon our indignant inquiry as to why he had shouted "Don't shoot,"
+"Tiger" quietly said, "Nah, then, none of your old buck; just hand
+over that tin of 'alf francs I've won."--_Fred Bruty (late Corporal
+of Horse, 2nd Life Guards), City of London Police Dwellings, No. 3,
+Ferndale Court, Ferndale Road, S.W.9._
+
+
+Raffle Draw To-night!
+
+Near St. Quentin, in October 1918, I was in charge of a section that
+was detailed to cross a railway to establish communication with troops
+on the other side. Unfortunately we were spotted by a German machine
+gunner, who made things very hot for us, two men being quickly hit. We
+managed, however, to reach a small mound where, by lying quite flat, we
+were comparatively safe.
+
+Glancing in the direction from which we had come, I saw a man whom I
+recognised as "Topper" Brown, our company runner, dashing as hard as he
+could for the cover where we had sheltered.
+
+"How do, corp?" he said when he came up. "Any of your blokes like to go
+in a raffle for this watch?" (producing same). "'Arf a franc a time;
+draw to-night in St. Quentin."--_S. Hills (late Rifle Brigade), 213,
+Ripple Road, Barking._
+
+
+Exit the General's Dessert
+
+In the early part of the War we were dug in between the Marne and the
+Aisne with H.Q. situated in a trench along which were growing several
+fruit trees which the troops were forbidden to touch.
+
+The Boche were shelling with what was then considered to be heavy
+stuff, and we were all more or less under cover, when a large one hit
+the back of the trench near H.Q.
+
+After the mess staff had recovered from the shock it was noticed
+that apples were still falling from a tree just above, and the mess
+corporal, his ears and eyes still full of mud, was heard to say: "Thank
+'eaven, I shan't have to climb that perishin' tree and get the old
+man's bloomin' dessert to-night."--_E. Adamson, Overseas Club, St.
+James's._
+
+
+"Try on this Coat, Sir"
+
+In September 1916, while with the 17th K.R.R.C., I lost my overcoat
+in a billet fire at Mailly-Maillet and indented for a new one, which,
+however, failed to turn up.
+
+We moved to Hebuterne, where the line was very lively and the working
+parties used to be strafed with "Minnies" all night.
+
+One night, while on patrol, with nerves on the jump, I was startled to
+hear a voice at my elbow say, "Try this on."
+
+It was the Q.M.'s corporal with the overcoat!
+
+I solemnly tried it on there and then in No Man's Land, about 300 yards
+in front of our front line and not very far from the German line.
+
+The corporal quite casually explained that he had some difficulty in
+finding me out there in the dark, but he did not want the trouble of
+carrying stuff out of the line when we moved!--_S. W. Chuckerbutty,
+(L.R.B. and K.R.R.C.), 3 Maida Hill West, London, W.2._
+
+
+On the Kaiser's Birthday
+
+In the Brickstacks at Givenchy, 1916. The Germans were celebrating the
+Kaiser's birthday by putting a steady succession of "Minnies" into and
+around our front line trench.
+
+Just when the strain was beginning to tell and nerves were getting
+jumpy, a little Cockney corporal jumped on the fire-step and, shaking
+his fist at the Germans forty yards away, bawled, "You wait till it's
+_my_ ruddy birthday!"
+
+Fritz didn't wait two seconds, but the little corporal had got his
+laugh and wasn't taking a curtain.--_"Bison" (late R.W.F.)._
+
+
+"Chuck us yer Name Plate!"
+
+In June 1917 we were ordered to lay a line to the front line at "Plug
+Street". Fritz started to bombard us with whizz-bangs, and my pal and
+I took cover behind a heap of sandbags, noticing at the same time that
+all the infantrymen were getting away from the spot.
+
+When things quietened down we heard a Cockney voice shouting, "Hi,
+mate! Chuck us yer name plate (identification disc). Y're sitting up
+against our bomb store."--_S. Doust (late Signal Section, "F" Battery,
+R.H.A.), 53 Wendover Road, Well Hall, Eltham, S.E.9._
+
+
+To Hold His Hand
+
+While on our way to relieve the 1st R.W.F.s, who were trying their
+utmost to hold a position in front of Mametz Wood, it was necessary to
+cross a road, very much exposed to Jerry's machine guns.
+
+A burst of firing greeted our attempt, and when we succeeded, a Cockney
+who had a flesh wound caused a smile by saying, "Go back? Not me. Next
+time I crosses a road I wants a blinking copper ter 'old me 'and?"--_G.
+Furnell, 57a Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+The New Landlord
+
+During an advance on the Somme in 1916 my company was rushed up to the
+captured trenches to search the dug-outs and to bring in the prisoners.
+
+My Cockney pal was evidently enjoying himself. As he went from one
+dug-out to another he was singing:
+
+    "Orl that I want is lo-ove,
+     Orl that I want is yew."
+
+Entering one dug-out, however, his voice suddenly changed. In the
+dug-out were three Germans. Showing them the point of his bayonet,
+the Cockney roared: "Nah, then, aht of it; 'op it. I'm lan'lord 'ere
+nah."--_C. Grimwade, 26 Rotherhithe New Road, Rotherhithe, S.E.16._
+
+
+"Out of Bounds" in the Line
+
+One night in October '14, in the neighbourhood of Herlies, "Ginger," a
+reservist, was sent out to call in the men of a listening post.
+
+Dawn came, but no "Ginger" returned, and as he did not turn up during
+the day he was given up for lost.
+
+Soon after dusk, however, a very worn and fed-up "Ginger" returned. We
+gathered that he had suddenly found himself in the German lines, had
+had a "dust-up," had got away, and had lain out in No Man's Land until
+dusk allowed him to get back.
+
+The company officer was inclined to be cross with him, and asked him,
+"But what made you go so far as the enemy position?"
+
+"Ginger" scratched his head, and then replied, "Well, sir, nobody said
+anyfink to me abaht it being aht o' bahnds."--_T. L. Barling (late
+Royal Fusiliers), 21 Lockhart Street, Bow, E.3._
+
+
+Epic of the Whistling Nine
+
+On May 14, 1917, the 2/2nd Battalion of the London Regiment occupied
+the support lines in front of Bullecourt. "A" company's position was
+a thousand yards behind the front line trenches. At 2 p.m. the enemy
+began to subject the whole area to an intense bombardment which lasted
+more than thirteen hours.
+
+In the middle of the bombardment (which was described by the
+G.O.C.-in-Chief as "the most intense bombardment British troops had had
+to withstand"), No. 3 platoon of "A" company was ordered to proceed to
+the front line with bombs for the battalion holding it. The platoon
+consisted of 31 N.C.O.s and men and one officer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The only means of communication between the support and front lines was
+a trench of an average depth of two feet. Along this trench the platoon
+proceeded, carrying between them forty boxes of Mills bombs. Every few
+yards there were deep shell holes to cross; tangled telephone wires
+tripped the men; M. G. bullets swept across the trench, and heavy
+shells obtained direct hits frequently, while shrapnel burst overhead
+without cessation.
+
+A man was hit every few minutes; those nearest him rendered what aid
+was possible, unless he was already dead; his bombs were carried on by
+another.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of the thirty-one who started, twenty-one were killed or wounded; the
+remainder, having taken an hour and a half to cover the 1,000 yards,
+reached the front line _with the forty boxes of bombs intact_.
+
+They were ordered to remain, and thus found themselves assisting in
+repulsing an attack made by the 3rd Lehr Regiment of Prussian Guards,
+and two of the men succeeded in wounding and capturing the commanding
+officer of the attacking regiment.
+
+Of the ten N.C.O.s and men who were left, a lance-corporal was blown
+to pieces in the trench; the remainder stayed in the front line until
+they were relieved four days later. On their way back, through Vaux
+Vraucourt, they picked clusters of May blossom, and with these in
+their equipment and rifle barrels, marched into the transport lines
+whistling.--_Captain, London Regiment._
+
+
+Tale of a Cook and a "Crump"
+
+Our cook was having the time of his life. The transition from trench
+warfare to more or less open warfare in late October 1918 brought with
+it a welcome change of diet in the form of pigs and poultry from the
+deserted farms, and cook had captured a nice young porker and two brace
+of birds.
+
+From the pleasant aroma which reached us from the cottage as we lay on
+our backs watching a German aeroplane we knew that cook would soon be
+announcing the feast was ready.
+
+Suddenly from the blue came a roar like that of an express train. We
+flung ourselves into the ditch.... _K-k-k-k-r-r-r-ump!_
+
+When the smoke and dust cleared away the cottage was just a rubbish
+heap, but there was cook, most miraculously crawling out from beneath a
+debris of rafters, beams, and bricks!
+
+"Ruddy 'orseplay!" was the philosopher's comment.--_I. O., 19 Burnell
+Road, Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"---- Returns the Penny"
+
+When my husband commanded the 41st Division in France he was much
+struck by the ready wit of a private of the Royal Fusiliers (City of
+London Regiment) in a tight corner.
+
+A bomb landed in a crowded dug-out while the men were having a meal.
+Everyone stared aghast at this ball of death except one Tommy, who
+promptly picked it up and flung it outside saying: "Grite stren'th
+returns the penny, gentlemen!" as he returned to his bully beef.--_Lady
+Lawford, London, S.W.1._
+
+
+"In Time for the Workman's?"
+
+A night wire-cutting party in the Arras sector had been surprised by
+daylight. All the members of the party (21st London Regiment) crawled
+back safely except one Cockney rifleman.
+
+When we had reached the trenches and found that he was missing, we were
+a bit upset. Would he have to lie out in No Man's Land all day? Would
+he be spotted by snipers?
+
+After a while our doubts were answered by a terrific burst from the
+German machine guns. Some of the bolder spirits peered over the top of
+the "bags" and saw our Cockney pal rushing, head down, towards our line
+while streams of death poured around him.
+
+He reached our parapet, fell down amongst us in the mud, uninjured,
+and immediately jumped to his feet and said, "Am I in time for the
+workman's?"--_D. F., Acton, W.3._
+
+
+A Lovely Record
+
+The Time: March 1916.
+
+The Scene: The Talus des Zouaves--a narrow valley running behind Vimy
+Ridge from Neuville St. Vaast through Souchez. The weather is bleak,
+and there is a sticky drizzle--it is towards dusk.
+
+The Man: A native of "somewhere just awf the 'Bricklayers Arms'--you
+know where that is, sir." Height, just over 5 feet; complexion, red;
+hair, red and not over tidy; appearance, awkward; clothes don't seem
+to fit quite. Distinguishing marks--a drooping red moustache almost
+concealing a short clay pipe, stuck bowl sideways in the corner of the
+mouth. On the face there is a curious--whimsical--wistful, in fact, a
+Cockney expression.
+
+The Occasion: The Boche is putting down his evening "strafe"--an
+intense and very accurate barrage laid like a curtain on the southern
+slope of the valley. Our hero, his hands closed round the stock of
+his rifle held between his knees, is squatting unconcernedly on the
+wet ground in the open on the northern side of the valley, where only
+a shell with a miraculous trajectory could have scored a direct hit,
+watching the shells burst almost every second not a great distance
+away. The din and pandemonium are almost unbearable. Fragments of H.E.
+and shrapnel are dropping very near.
+
+The Remark: Removing his pipe to reveal the flicker of a smile, he
+remarked, in his inimitable manner: "_Lor' blimey, guv'nor, wouldn't
+this sahnd orl rite on a grammerphone?_"--_Gordon Edwards, M.C.
+(Captain, late S.W.B.), "Fairholm," 48 Alexandra Road, Wimbledon,
+S.W.19._
+
+
+Logic in No Man's Land
+
+Fritz had been knocking our wire about, and a party of us were detailed
+to repair it. One of our party, a trifle more windy than the rest, kept
+ducking at the stray bullets that were whistling by. Finally, 'Erb,
+who was holding the coil of wire, said to him, "Can't yer stop that
+bobbin' abaht? They won't 'urt yer unless they 'its yer."--_C. Green,
+44 Monson Road, New Cross, S.E.14._
+
+
+Fousands ... and Millions
+
+It was on the Mons-Condé Canal, on the afternoon of August 23, 1914.
+Our artillery had just opened up when a tiny Cockney trumpeter, who
+could not have been more than 15 years old, came galloping up to us
+with a message.
+
+[Illustration: "They're coming on in millions."]
+
+"How are the gunners going on, boy?" said my captain.
+
+"Knocking 'em down in fousands, sir," replied the lad.
+
+"Good," said the captain.
+
+"Yus, and they're coming on in millions," replied the boy as he rode
+away to his battery.
+
+A plucky kid, that.--_W. H. White, 29 Clive Road, Colliers Wood,
+S.W.19._
+
+
+Lost: A Front Line
+
+Two or three American officers were attached to our brigade H.Q. on the
+Somme front.
+
+We were doing our usual four days in the front line when one morning
+an American officer emerged from the communication trench. Just then
+the Germans opened out with everything from a 5·9 to rifle grenade. We
+squeezed into funk-holes in the bottom of the trench. Presently there
+was a lull, and the American officer was heard to ask, "Say, boys,
+where is the front line in these parts?"
+
+"Tich," a little Cockney from Euston way, extracted himself from
+the earth, and exclaimed, "Strike! j'ear that? Wot jer fink this
+is--a blinkin' rifle range?"--_W. Wheeler (late 23rd Battalion Royal
+Fusiliers), 55 Turney Road, Dulwich, S.E._
+
+
+"If Our Typist Could See Me Nah"
+
+Imagine (if you can) the mud on the Somme at its worst. A Royal Marine
+Artilleryman (a very junior clerk from "Lambeff") was struggling up the
+gentle slope behind Trones Wood with a petrol tin of precious water
+in either hand. A number of us were admiring his manly efforts from a
+distance when the sudden familiar shriek was heard, followed by the
+equally familiar bang.
+
+We saw him thrown to the ground as the whizz-bang burst but a few feet
+from him, and we rushed down, certain that he had "got his." Imagine
+our surprise on being greeted by an apparition that had struggled to
+a sitting posture, liberally plastered with mud, and a wound in the
+shoulder, who hoarsely chuckled and said: "If our typist could see me
+_nah_!"--_C. H. F. (W/Opr. attached R.M.A. Heavy Brigade)._
+
+
+Q! Q! Queue!
+
+The scene was an observation post in the top of a (late) colliery
+chimney, 130 ft. up, on the outskirts of Béthune, during the last
+German offensive of the War.
+
+A great deal of heavy shelling was in progress in our immediate
+vicinity, and many of Fritz's "high-velocities" were screaming past our
+lofty pinnacle, which was swaying with the concussion. At any moment a
+direct hit was possible.
+
+My Cockney mate had located a hostile battery, and after some
+difficulty with the field telephone was giving the bearing to
+headquarters.
+
+Faults in the line seemed to prevent him from finishing his message,
+which consisted of giving the map square (Q 20) being "strafed." The
+"Q" simply would not reach the ears of the corporal at headquarters,
+and after many fruitless efforts, using "Q" words, I heard him burst
+out in exasperation: "Q! Q! Queue! ... Blimey! you know--the blinkin'
+thing wot the pore blighters at home wite abaht for 'mawgarine'
+in."--_B. W. Whayman (late F.S.C., R.E.), 24 Oxford Street, Boston,
+Lincolnshire._
+
+
+"Fine 'eads er Salery!"
+
+We were in a deep railway cutting near Gouzeancourt. Jerry's aeroplanes
+had found us and his artillery was trying to shift us.
+
+On the third day we had run out of cigarettes, so the sergeant-major
+asked for a volunteer to go to a canteen four miles away.
+
+Our Cockney, a costermonger well known in the East End, volunteered.
+He could neither read nor write, so we fixed him up with francs, a
+sandbag, and a list.
+
+Hours passed, the strafe became particularly heavy, and we began to
+fear our old pal had been hit.
+
+Suddenly during a lull in the shelling far away along the ravine we
+heard a voice shouting, "Ere's yer fine 'eads er salery 'orl white." He
+was winning through.--_"Sparks," Lowestoft, Suffolk._
+
+
+The Old Soldier Falls
+
+After my battalion had been almost wiped out in the 1918 retirement, I
+was transferred to the 1st Batt. Middlesex Regt. One old soldier, known
+to us as "Darky," who had been out since '14, reported at B.H.Q. that
+he wanted to go up the front line with his old mates instead of resting
+behind the line.
+
+His wish was granted. He was detailed to escort a party of us to the
+front line.
+
+All went well till we arrived at the support line, where we were told
+to be careful of snipers.
+
+We had only gone 20 yards further when the old soldier fell back into
+my arms, shot through the head. He was dying when he opened his eyes
+and said to me, "Straight on, lad. You can find your way now."--_A. H.
+Walker, 59 Wilberforce Road, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+Not Meant For Him
+
+At the end of September 1917 my regiment (5th Seaforth Highlanders)
+were troubled by bombing raids by enemy aircraft at the unhealthy
+regularity of one raid per hour. We were under canvas at Siege Camp,
+in the Ypres sector, and being near to a battery of large guns we were
+on visiting terms with some of the gunners, who were for the most part
+London men.
+
+A Lewisham man was writing a letter in our tent one day when we
+again had the tip that the Germans were flying towards us. So we all
+scattered.
+
+After the raid we returned to our tent and were surprised to see our
+artillery friend still writing his letter. We asked him whether he
+had stayed there the whole time and in reply he read us the following
+passage from his letter which he had written during the raid:
+
+"As I write this letter Jerry is bombing the Jocks, but although I am
+in their camp, being a Londoner, I suppose the raid is not meant for
+me, and I feel quite safe."--_W. A. Bull, M.M., 62 Norman Road, llford,
+Essex._
+
+
+An Extra Fast Bowler
+
+During the defence of Antwerp in October 1914 my chum, who was
+wicket-keeper in the Corps cricket team, got hit in the head.
+
+I was with him when he came to, and asked him what happened.
+
+"Extra fast one on the leg side," was his reply.--_J. Russell (late
+R.M.L.I.), 8 Northcote Road, Deal, Kent._
+
+
+"I'll Call a Taxi, Sir"
+
+During an engagement in East Africa an officer was badly wounded. Bill,
+from Bermondsey, rode out to him on a mule. Whilst he was trying to get
+the officer away on his mule the animal bolted. Bill then said, "Me
+mule 'opped it, sir. 'E's a fousand miles from 'ere, so I'll giv yer a
+lift on my Bill and Jack (back)."
+
+The officer was too heavy, so Bill put him gently on the ground saying,
+"Sorry, sir, I'll 'ave ter call a taxi." Bill then ran 500 yards under
+heavy machine-gun fire to where the armoured cars were under cover. He
+brought one out, and thereby saved the officer's life.
+
+After the incident, Bill's attention was drawn to a bullet hole in his
+pith helmet. "Blimey," he said, "what a shot! If he 'adn't a missed me,
+'e'd a 'it me." Bill was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.--_W.
+B. Higgins, D.C.M. (late Corpl. Mounted Infantry), 46 Stanley Road,
+Ilford._
+
+
+Attack in "Birthday Clothes"
+
+We came out of the line on the night of June 14-15, 1917, to "bivvies"
+at Mory, after a hot time from both Fritz and weather at Bullecourt.
+When dawn broke we were astonished and delighted to see a "bath."
+Whilst we were in the line our Pioneers had a brain wave, dug a hole in
+the ground, lined it with a tarpaulin sheet, and filled it with water.
+
+As our last bath was at Achiet-le-Petit six weeks before, there was a
+tremendous crowd waiting "mit nodings on," because there was "standing
+room only" for about twenty in the bath.
+
+Whilst ablutions were in progress an aeroplane was heard, but no
+notice was taken because it was flying so low--"one of ours" everybody
+thought. When it came nearer there was a shout, "Strewth, it's a Jerry
+plane."
+
+Baths were "off" for the moment and there was a stampede to the
+"bivvies" for rifles. It was the funniest thing in the world to see
+fellows running about in their "birthday suits" plus only tin hats,
+taking pot shots at the aeroplane.
+
+Even Fritz seemed surprised, because it was some moments before he
+replied with his machine gun.
+
+We watched him fly away back to his own lines and a voice broke the
+silence with, "Blinkin' fools to put on our tin 'ats. Uvverwise 'ole
+Fritz wouldn't a known but what we might be Germans."
+
+I often wonder if any other battalion had the "honour" of "attacking
+the enemy" clad only in tin hats.--_G. M. Rampton (late 12th London
+Regt., "Rangers"), 43 Cromwell Road, Winchester._
+
+
+His Good-bye to the Q.M.
+
+Scene, Ypres, May 1915. The battalion to which I belonged had been
+heavily shelled for many hours, and among the casualties was "Topper"
+Brown, a Cockney, who was always in trouble for losing items of his
+kit. Taken to the dressing station to have a badly shattered foot
+amputated, he recovered consciousness to find the C.Q.M.S. standing by
+the stretcher on which he lay.
+
+The C.Q.M.S., not knowing the extent of Brown's injury, inquired,
+"What's the trouble, Brown?"
+
+In a weak voice the Cockney replied, "Lost one boot and one sock again,
+Quarter."--_E. E. Daniels (late K.R.R.), 178 Caledonian Road, N.1._
+
+
+From Bow and Harrow
+
+We were in the line at Neuville St. Vaast in 1916. A raid had just been
+carried out. In the party were two inseparable chums, one from Bow and
+one from Harrow. (Of course they were known as Bow and Arrow.)
+
+The bulk of the raiders had returned, but some were yet to come in.
+Some time later three forms were seen crawling towards our line. They
+were promptly helped in.
+
+As their faces were blackened they were hard to recognise, and a
+corporal asked them who they were.
+
+"Don't yer know us?" said the chap from Bow. "We're Bow and Arrow."
+"Blimey!" said another Cockney standing by. "And I suppose the other
+bloke's Robin 'ood, aint 'e."--_G. Holloway (late London Regt. and 180
+M.G.C.), 179 Lewis Buildings, West Kensington, W.14._
+
+
+Piccadilly in the Front Line
+
+Towards the end of September 1918 I was one of a party of nine men and
+an officer taking part in a silent raid in the Ypres sector, a little
+in front of the well-known spot called Swan and Edgar's Corner. The
+raid was the outcome of an order from Headquarters demanding prisoners
+for information.
+
+Everything had been nicely arranged. We were to approach the German
+line by stealth, surprise an outpost, and get back quickly to our own
+trenches with the prisoners.
+
+Owing perhaps to the wretchedness of the night--it was pouring with
+rain, and intensely black--things did not work according to plan.
+Instead of reaching our objective, our party became divided, and the
+group that I was with got hopelessly lost. There were five of us,
+including "Ginger," a Cockney.
+
+We trod warily for about an hour, when we suddenly came up against a
+barbed-wire entanglement, in the centre of which we could just make
+out the figure of a solitary German. After whispered consultation, we
+decided to take him prisoner, knowing that the German, having been
+stationary, had not lost sense of direction and could guide us back
+to our line. Noiselessly surmounting the barbed wire, we crept up to
+him and in a second Ginger was on him. Pointing his bayonet in Fritz's
+back, he said, "Nah, then, you blighter, show us the way 'ome."
+
+Very coolly and without the slightest trace of fear, the German replied
+in perfect English, "I suppose you mean me to lead you to the British
+trenches."
+
+"Oh!" said Ginger, "so yer speak English, do yer?"
+
+"Yes," said the German, "I was a waiter at a restaurant in Piccadilly
+before the War."
+
+"Piccadilly, eh? You're just the feller we want. Take us as far as Swan
+and Edgar's Corner."--_R. Allen (late Middlesex Regt., 41st Division),
+7 Moreland Street, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+"Wag's" Exhortation
+
+On a bitterly cold night, with a thick fog settling, the Middlesex
+Regt. set out on a raid on a large scale on the enemy's trenches.
+Fritz must have got wind of it, for when they were about half-way
+across the enemy guns opened fire and simply raked No Man's Land. The
+air was alive with shrapnel and nearly two-thirds of the raiders were
+casualties in no time.
+
+Those that could tried to crawl back to our lines, but soon lost
+all direction in the fog. About half a dozen of them crawled into a
+shell-hole and lay there wounded or exhausted from their efforts, and
+afraid to move while the bombardment continued.
+
+Meanwhile "Wag" Bennett, a Cockney, though badly wounded, had dragged
+himself out of a shell-hole, and was crawling towards what proved later
+to be the enemy lines when he saw the forms of the other fellows in the
+darkness. As he peered down upon them he called out, "Strike me pink!
+Lyin' abaht dahn there as if you was at the 'Otel Cissle, while there's
+a ruddy war agoin' on. Come on up aht of it, else you'll git us all a
+bad name."
+
+In a moment they were heartened, and they crawled out, following "Wag"
+on their hands and knees and eventually regained our lines. Poor "Wag"
+died soon afterwards from his wounds.--_H. Newing, 1 Park Cottages,
+Straightsmouth, Greenwich, S.E.10._
+
+
+Making a King of Him
+
+Our company of the Middlesex Regiment had captured a hill from Johnny
+Turk one evening, and at once prepared for the counter-attack on the
+morrow. My platoon was busy making a trench. On the parapet we placed
+large stones instead of sandbags.
+
+During these operations we were greeted with machine-gun fire from
+Johnny and, our numbers being small, we had to keep firing from
+different positions so as to give the impression that we were stronger
+than we really were.
+
+It was while we were scrambling from one position to another that
+"Smudger" Smith, from Hammersmith, said: "Love us, Sarge, 'ow's this
+for a blinkin' game of draughts?" The words were hardly out of his
+mouth when Johnny dropped a 5·9 about thirty yards away. The force of
+the explosion shook one of the stones from the parapet right on to
+"Smudger's" head, and he was knocked out.
+
+When he came round his first words were: "Blimey, they must 'ave 'eard
+me to crown me like that."--_W. R. Mills (late Sergt., 2/10th Middlesex
+Regt.), 15 Canterbury Road, Colchester, Essex._
+
+
+"Peace? Not wiv you 'ere!"
+
+Two Cockney pals who were always trying to get the better of one
+another in a battle of words by greeting each other with such remarks
+as "Ain't you blinkin' well dead yet?" earned for themselves the
+nick-names of Bill and Coo.
+
+One evening they were sent to fetch water, and on the return journey
+the Germans started to shell rather heavily.
+
+Coo ran more quickly than Bill and fell into a shell-hole. He scrambled
+out in time to see his pal blown sky high by what appeared to be a
+direct hit.
+
+Coo was heard to remark: "I always told 'im 'e ought to be reported
+missing, and blimey if 'e ain't."
+
+He then went to see if he could find the body: instead he found Bill
+alive, though badly wounded.
+
+When finally Coo got his pal back to the trench, Bill opened his eyes.
+Seeing Coo bending over him, he said: "Lumme, I thought peace 'ad come
+at last, but it ain't--not wiv you 'ere."--_William Walker, 30 Park
+Road, Stopsley Road, Luton, Beds._
+
+
+An Expert on Shells
+
+We were billeted in the vaults of Ypres Post Office. Towards dusk of
+a summer's day in 1916 four of us were lounging at the top of the
+vault stairs, discussing the noise made by different shells. Jerry,
+a Cockney, was saying, "Yes, yer can always tell big 'uns--they
+shuffles," and went on to demonstrate with _Shsh-shsh-shsh_, when
+someone said "Listen!"
+
+There was the real sound, and coming straight for us. We dived or fell
+to the bottom of the stairs. Followed a terrific "crump" right in the
+entrance, which was completely blocked up.
+
+Every candle and lamp was blown out; we were choking with dust and
+showered with bricks and masonry.
+
+There was a short silence, and Jerry's voice from the darkness said,
+"There y'are; wot did I tell yer?"--_H. W. Lake, London._
+
+
+A Camel "on the Waggon"
+
+During the battle of Gaza in April 1917 camels were used for the
+conveyance of wounded. Each camel carried a stretcher on either side
+of its hump. Travelling in this manner was something akin to a rough
+Channel crossing.
+
+[Illustration: "I believe he was drunk before we set eyes on him."]
+
+I was wounded in the leg. My companion was severely wounded in both
+legs. Some very uncomplimentary remarks were passed between us
+concerning camels, particularly the one which was carrying us.
+
+When we arrived at a field dressing-station a sergeant of the R.A.M.C.
+came along with liquid refreshments.
+
+"Sergeant," said my chum, "if you give this bloke (indicating the
+camel) anything to drink I'm going to walk, 'cos I believe the blighter
+was drunk before we ever set eyes on him."--_Albert J. Fairall, 43
+Melbourne Road, Leyton, E.10._
+
+
+Parting Presents
+
+It was on Passchendaele Ridge in 1917. Jerry had been giving us a hot
+time with his heavies. Just before daybreak our telephone line went
+west and we could not get through to our O.P.
+
+I was detailed to go out and repair the line with a young Cockney from
+Hackney. He had only been with us a few days and it was his first time
+up the line.
+
+We had mended one break when shells dropped all round us. When I got
+to my feet, I saw my pal lying several feet away. I escaped with a few
+splinters and shock. I dragged my chum to a shell-hole which was full
+of water and found he was badly hit about the shoulder, chest, and leg.
+I dressed him as best I possibly could, when, _bang_, a shell seemed
+to drop right on us and something came hurtling into our hole with a
+splash.
+
+It turned out to be a duckboard. I propped my chum against it to stop
+him slipping back into the water. After a few minutes he opened his
+eyes, and though in terrible pain, smiled and said, "Lummy, Jeff, old
+Jerry ain't so bad, after all. He has given me a nice souvenir to take
+to Blighty and now he has sent me a raft to cross the Pond on." Then he
+became unconscious.
+
+It was now daybreak and quiet. I pulled him out of the hole and went
+and repaired the line. We got him away all right, but I never heard
+from him. I only hope he pulled through: he showed pluck.--_Signaller
+H. Jeffrey (late Royal Artillery), 13 Bright Road, Luton, Chatham,
+Kent._
+
+
+Bluebottles and Wopses
+
+We had just gone into the front line. Two of us had not been there
+before.
+
+During a conversation with a Cockney comrade, an old hand, we told him
+of our dislike of bombs. He tried to re-assure us something like this:
+"Nah, don't let them worry you. You treat 'em just like blue-bottles,
+only different. With a blue-bottle you watch where it settles an' 'it
+it, but with bombs, you watch where they're goin' to settle and 'op it.
+It's quite simple."
+
+A short time after a small German bomb came over and knocked out our
+adviser. My friend and I picked him up and tried to help him. He was
+seriously hurt. As we lifted him up my friend said to him, "You didn't
+get your blue-bottle that time, did you?" He smiled back as he replied:
+"'Twasn't a blue-bottle, mate; must 'ave been a blinkin' wopse."--_C.
+Booth, 5 Creighton Road, N.W.6._
+
+
+The Cheerful "Card"
+
+On that June morning in 1917 when Messines Ridge went up, a young chap
+was brought in to our A.D.S. in Woodcote Farm. A piece of shell had
+torn a great gap in each thigh. Whilst the sergeant was applying the
+iodine by means of a spray the M.O. asked, "How are things going this
+morning?" The lad was wearing a red heart as his battalion sign, and
+despite his great pain he answered: "O.K. sir. Hearts were trumps this
+morning."--_R. J. Graff, 3/5th L.F.A., 47th Division, 20 Lawrie Park
+Road, Sydenham._
+
+
+Great Stuff This Shrapnel
+
+During the retreat from Mons it was the cavalry's work to hold up the
+Germans as long as possible, to allow our infantry to get in position.
+
+One day we had a good way to run to our horses, being closely pursued
+by the Germans. When we reached them we were all more or less out of
+breath. A little Cockney was so winded that he could hardly reach his
+stirrup, which kept slipping from under his foot.
+
+Just then a shrapnel shell burst directly overhead, and the Cockney,
+without using his stirrup, vaulted clean into the saddle.
+
+As we galloped off he gasped, "Blimey, don't they put new life in yer?
+They're as good as Kruschens."--_E. H. (late R.H.G.), 87 Alpha Road,
+Surbiton, Surrey._
+
+
+Wot a War!
+
+Three of us were sitting on the high ground on the Gallipoli Beach
+watching shells dropping from the Turk positions.
+
+A "G.S." wagon was proceeding slowly along below us, the driver huddled
+in his coat, for the air was chill.
+
+Suddenly he jumped from the wagon and ran in our direction--he had
+heard the shell before we had.
+
+The next moment the wagon was proceeding skywards in many directions,
+and the horses were departing at top speed in different directions.
+
+The driver surveyed the scene for a moment and then in a very
+matter-of-fact voice said: "Blimey! See that? Now I suppose I've
+got to _walk_ back, and me up all night--wot a war!" And away he
+trudged!--_C. J. A., N.W.11._
+
+
+The Umpire
+
+After a retreat in May 1915 we saw, lying between our fresh position
+and the German lines, an English soldier whom we took to be dead.
+
+Later, however, we advanced again, and discovered that the man was not
+dead, but badly wounded.
+
+On being asked who he was, he replied in a very weak voice, "I fink
+I must be the blinkin' umpire."--_W. King (late Royal Fusiliers), 94
+Manor Grove, Richmond, Surrey._
+
+
+"Don't Tell 'Aig"
+
+Little "Ginger" was the life and soul of our platoon until he was
+wounded on the Somme in 1918.
+
+As he was carried off to the dressing-station he waved his hand feebly
+over the side of the stretcher and whispered, "Don't tell 'Aig! He'd
+worry somethin' shockin'."--_G. E. Morris (late Royal Fusiliers), 368
+Ivydale Road, Peckham Rye, S.E.15._
+
+
+"... In Love and War"
+
+During a most unpleasant night bombing raid on the transport lines at
+Haillecourt the occupants of a Nissen hut were waiting for the next
+crash when out of the darkness and silence came the Cockney voice of
+a lorry driver saying to his mate, "'Well,' I sez to 'er, I sez, 'You
+do as you like, and I can't say no fairer than that, can I?'"--_F. R.
+Jelley, Upland Road, Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"Afraid of Yer Own Shells"
+
+I was on the Italian front in June 1918, and our battery was being
+strafed by the Austrians with huge armour-piercing shells, which made
+a noise like an express train coming at you, and exploded with a
+deafening roar.
+
+An O.K. had just registered on one of our guns, blowing the wheels and
+masses of rock sky-high. A party of about twenty Austrian prisoners,
+in charge of a single Cockney, were passing our position at the time,
+and the effect of the explosion on the prisoners was startling. They
+scattered in all directions, vainly pursued by the Cockney, who
+reminded me of a sheep-dog trying to get his flock together.
+
+At last he paused. "You windy lot o' blighters," he shouted as he
+spat on the ground in evident disgust, "afraid of yer own bloomin'
+shells!"--_S. Curtis, 20 Palace Road, Upper Norwood, S.E.19._
+
+
+The Leader of the Blind
+
+In July 1918, at a casualty clearing station occupying temporary
+quarters in the old College of St. Vincent at ruined Senlis we dealt
+with 7,000 wounded in eight days. One night when we were more busy than
+usual an ambulance car brought up a load of gas-blinded men.
+
+A little man whose voice proclaimed the city of his birth--arm broken
+and face blistered with mustard gas, though he alone of the party could
+see--jumped out, looked around, and then whispered in my ear, "All
+serene, guv'nor, leave 'em to me."
+
+He turned towards the car and shouted inside, "Dalston Junction, change
+here for Hackney, Bow, and Poplar."
+
+Then gently helping each man to alight, he placed them in a line with
+right hand on the shoulder of the man in front, took his position
+forward and led them all in, calling softly as he advanced, "Slow
+march, left, left, I had a good job and I _left_ it."--_Henry T. Lowde
+(late 63rd C.C.S., R.A.M.C.), 101 Stanhope Gardens, Harringay, N.4._
+
+
+Pity the Poor Ducks
+
+We were in the Passchendaele sector in 1917, and all who were there
+know there were no trenches--just shell-holes half-filled with water.
+
+Jerry had been strafing us for two days without a stop and of our
+platoon of twenty-three men only seven came out alive. As we were
+coming down the duckboard track after being relieved Jerry started to
+put over a barrage. We had to dive for the best cover we could get.
+
+Three of us jumped into a large shell-hole, up to our necks in water.
+As the shells dropped around us we kept ducking our heads under the
+water.
+
+Bert Norton, one of us--a Cockney--said: "Strike, we're like the little
+ducks in 'Yde Park--keep going under."
+
+After another shell had burst and we had just come up to breathe Bert
+chimed in again with: "Blimey, mustn't it be awful to have to get your
+living by ducking?"--_J. A. Wood, 185 Dalston Lane, E.8._
+
+
+Waiting Room Only
+
+It was in No Man's Land, and a party of New Zealand troops were making
+for shelter in a disabled British tank to avoid the downpour of
+shrapnel. They were about to swarm into the tank when the head of a
+London Tommy popped out of an aperture, and he exclaimed, "Blimey. Hop
+it! This is a waiting room, not a blinkin' bee-hive."--_A. E. Wragg, 1
+Downs Road, Beckenham, Kent._
+
+
+Not Yet Blasé
+
+We arrived at the Cambrai front in 1917--just a small bunch of
+Cockneys--and were attached to the Welsh Brigade of Artillery, being
+told to report to B.H.Q. up the sunken road in front of Bapaume.
+
+En route our escort of Welshmen were telling us of the "terrible"
+shelling up the line. It was no leg pulling, for we quickly found out
+for ourselves that it was hot and furious.
+
+Down we all went for cover as best we could, except one Cockney who
+stood as one spellbound watching the bursting of the shells. One of the
+Welshmen yelled out, "Drop down, Cockie!" The Cockney turned round, to
+the wonderment and amusement of the rest, with the retort, "Blimey! Get
+away with yer, you're windy. I've only just come out!"--_Driver W. H.
+Allen (attached 1st Glamorgan R.H.A.), 8 Maiden Crescent, Kentish Town,
+N.W.1._
+
+
+Paid with a Mills
+
+During severe fighting in Delville Wood in August 1916 our regiment
+(the East Surreys) was cut off for about three days and was reduced to
+a mere handful of men, but still we kept up our joking and spirits.
+
+A young Cockney, who was an adept at rhyming slang, rolled over, dead
+as I thought, for blood was streaming from his neck and head. But he
+sat up again and, wiping his hand across his forehead, exclaimed:
+"Strike me pink! One on the top of my loaf of bread (head), and one
+in the bushel and peck (neck)." Then, slinging over a Mills bomb, he
+shouted: "'Ere, Fritz, my thanks for a Blighty ticket."--_A. Dennis, 9
+Somers Road, Brixton Hill, S.W.2._
+
+
+The Guns' Obligato
+
+The day after the Canadians attacked Vimy Ridge my battalion of
+the Royal Fusiliers advanced from Bully Grenay to a château on the
+outskirts of Lieven under heavy shell fire.
+
+[Illustration: "Tipperary!"]
+
+At the back of the château a street led to the main road to the town.
+There, despite the bombardment, we found a Cockney Tommy of the Buffs
+playing "Tipperary" on a piano which had been blown out of a house into
+the road.
+
+We joined in--until a shell took the top off the château, when we
+scattered!--_L. A. Utton, 184 Coteford Street, Tooting, S.W._
+
+
+In the Garden of Eden
+
+We had reached the district in "Mespot" reputed to be the Garden of
+Eden. One evening I was making my way with six men to relieve the guard
+on some ammunition barges lying by the bank of the Tigris.
+
+We had approached to within about one hundred yards of these, when the
+Turks started sending over some "long-rangers." The sixth shell scored
+a direct hit on the centre barge, and within a few seconds the whole
+lot went up in what seemed like the greatest explosion of all time.
+Apart from being knocked over with the shock, we escaped injury, with
+the exception of a Cockney in our company.
+
+Most of his clothing, except his boots, had been stripped from his
+body, and his back was bleeding. Slowly he struggled to his hands and
+knees, and surveying his nakedness, said: "Now where's that blinkin'
+fig tree?"--_F. Dennis, 19 Crewdson Road, Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Santa Claus in a Hurry
+
+A forward observation officer of the Artillery was on duty keeping
+watch on Watling Crater, Vimy Ridge, towards the end of 1916.
+
+The observation post was the remains of a house, very much battered.
+The officer had to crawl up what had once been a large fireplace, where
+he had the protection of the only piece of wall that remained standing.
+
+He was engrossed on his task when the arrival of a "Minnie" shook the
+foundations of the place, and down he came in a shower of bricks and
+mortar with his shrapnel helmet not at the regimental angle.
+
+A couple of Cockney Tommies had also made a dive for the shelter of
+this pile of bricks and were crouching down, when the officer crawled
+from the fireplace. "Quick, Joe," said one of the Cockneys, "'ang
+up yer socks--'ere comes ole Santa Claus!"--_A. J. Robinson (late
+Sergeant, R.F.A.), 21 Clowders Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+What Paderewski was Missing
+
+It was on the night of October 27, 1917, at Passchendaele Ridge. Both
+sides were "letting it go hell for leather," and we were feeling none
+too comfortable crouching in shell-holes and taking what cover we could.
+
+The ground fairly shook--and so did we for that matter--with the heavy
+explosions and the din was ear-splitting.
+
+Just for something to say I called out to the chap in the next
+shell-hole--a Brentford lad he was: "What d'you think of it, Alf?"
+
+"Not much," he said, "I was just finkin' if Paderewski could get only
+this on 'is ol' jo-anner."--_M. Hooker, 325A Md. Qrs., Henlow Camp,
+Bedford._
+
+
+A Target, but No Offers
+
+During the battle of the Somme, in September 1916, our Lewis gun post
+was in a little loop trench jutting out from the front line at a place
+called, I believe, Lone Tree, just before Combles. Jerry's front line
+was not many yards away, and it was a very warm spot.
+
+Several casualties had occurred during the morning through sniping,
+and one enterprising chap had scored a bull's-eye on the top of our
+periscope.
+
+Things quietened down a bit in the afternoon, and about 4 p.m. our
+captain, who already had the M.C., came along and said to our corporal,
+"I believe the Germans have gone."
+
+A Cockney member of our team, overhearing this, said, "Well, it won't
+take long to find out," and jumping upon the fire-step exposed himself
+from the waist upwards above the parapet.
+
+After a minute's breathless silence he turned to the captain and said,
+with a jerk of his thumb, "They've hopped it, sir."
+
+That night we and our French friends entered Combles.--_M. Chittenden
+(late "C" Coy., 1/16th London Regt., Q.W.R.), 26 King Edward Road,
+Waltham Cross, Herts._
+
+
+Their own Lord Mayor's Show
+
+In April 1918 our unit was billeted near Amiens in a small village from
+which the inhabitants had been evacuated two days earlier, owing to the
+German advance.
+
+On the second day of our stay there Jerry was shelling the steeple of
+the village church, and we had taken cover in the cellars under the
+village school. All at once we heard roars of laughter coming from the
+street, and wondering what on earth anyone could find to laugh at, we
+tumbled up to have a look.
+
+The sight that met our eyes was this: Gravely walking down the middle
+of the street were two of the "Hackney Ghurkas," the foremost of whom
+was dressed in a frock coat and top hat, evidently the property of the
+village _maire_, and leading a decorated mule upon the head of which
+was tied the most gaudy "creation" which ever adorned a woman's head.
+
+The second Cockney was clad in the full garb of a twenty-stone French
+peasant woman, hat and all, and was dragging at the end of a chain a
+stuffed fox, minus its glass case, but still fastened to its baseboard.
+
+They solemnly paraded the whole length of the street and back again,
+and were heard to remark that the village was having at least one Lord
+Mayor's Show before Jerry captured it!
+
+And this happened at the darkest time of the war, when our backs were
+to the wall.--_A. C. P. (late 58th London Division), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Pill-Box Crown and Anchor
+
+In the fighting around Westhoek in August 1917 the 56th Division were
+engaged in a series of attacks on the Nonne Boschen Wood, and owing to
+the boggy nature of the ground the position was rather obscure.
+
+A platoon of one of the London battalions was holding a pill-box
+which had been taken from the Germans during the day. In the night a
+counter-attack was made in the immediate vicinity of the pill-box,
+which left some doubt as to whether it had again fallen to the enemy.
+
+A patrol was sent out to investigate. After cautiously approaching the
+position and being challenged in a Cockney tongue, they entered the
+pill-box, and were astonished to see the occupants playing crown and
+anchor.
+
+The isolated and dangerous position was explained to the sergeant in
+charge, but he nonchalantly replied, "Yes, I know all abaht that; but,
+yer see, wot's the use of frightenin' the boys any more? There's been
+enough row rahnd 'ere all night as it is."--_N. Butcher (late 3rd
+Londons), 43 Tankerville Drive, Leigh-on-Sea._
+
+
+"C.O.'s Paid 'is Phone Bill"
+
+On the Somme, during the big push of 1916, we had a section of
+Signallers attached to our regiment to keep the communications during
+the advance. Of the two attached to our company, one was a Cockney.
+He had kept in touch with the "powers that be" without a hitch until
+his wire was cut by a shell. He followed his wire back and made the
+necessary repair. Three times he made the same journey for the same
+reason. His mate was killed by a shrapnel shell and he himself had his
+left arm shattered: but to him only one thing mattered, and that was to
+"keep in touch." So he stuck to his job.
+
+The wire was broken a fourth time, and as he was about to follow it
+back, a runner came up from the C.O. wanting to know why the signaller
+was not in communication. He started back along his wire and as he went
+he said, "Tell 'im to pay 'is last account, an' maybe the telephone
+will be re-connected."
+
+A permanent line was fixed before he allowed the stretcher-bearers
+to take him away. My chum had taken his post at the end of the wire,
+and as the signaller was being carried away he called out feebly,
+"You're in touch with H.Q. C.O.'s paid 'is bill, an' we'll win the war
+yet."--_L. N. Loder, M.C. (late Indian Army), Streatham._
+
+
+The "Garden Party Crasher"
+
+In April 1917 two companies of our battalion were ordered to make a big
+raid opposite the sugar refineries at 14 Bis, near Loos. Two lines of
+enemy trenches had to be taken and the raiding party, when finished,
+were to go back to billets at Mazingarbe while the Durhams took over
+our trenches.
+
+My batman Beedles had instructions to go back to billets with all my
+kit, and wait there for my return. I was in charge of the right half of
+the first wave of the raid, and after a bit of a scrap we got into the
+German front line.
+
+Having completed our job of blowing up concrete emplacements and
+dug-outs, we were waiting for the signal to return to our lines when,
+to my surprise, Beedles came strolling through the German wire. When he
+saw me he called out above the row going on: "I 'opes yer don't mind me
+'aving come to the garden party wivout an invertition, sir?"
+
+The intrepid fellow had taken all my kit back to billets some four
+miles, made the return journey, and come across No Man's Land to find
+me, and see me safely back; an act which might easily have cost him
+his life.--_L. W. Lees (Lieut.), late 11th Batt. Essex Regt., "Meadow
+Croft," Stoke Poges, Bucks._
+
+
+Those Big Wasps
+
+Salonika, 1918, a perfect summer's day. The 2/17th London Regiment are
+marching along a dusty road up to the Doiran Lake. Suddenly, out of the
+blue, three bombing planes appear. The order is given to scatter.
+
+Meanwhile, up comes an anti-aircraft gun, complete with crew on lorry.
+Soon shells are speeding up, and little small puffs of white smoke
+appear as they burst; but the planes are too high for them. A Cockney
+of the regiment puts his hands to his mouth and shouts to the crew:
+"Hi, don't hunch 'em; let 'em settle."--_A. G. Sullings (late 2/17th
+London Regiment), 130 Cann Hall Road, Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Why he Looked for Help
+
+On July 1, 1916, the 56th (London) Division attacked at Hebuterne,
+and during the morning I was engaged (as a lineman) in repairing our
+telephone lines between Battalion and Brigade H.Q. I had just been
+temporarily knocked out by a flat piece of shell and had been attended
+by a stretcher-bearer, who then left me and proceeded on his way back
+to a dressing station I had previously passed, whilst I went farther on
+down the trench to get on with my job.
+
+I had not gone many yards when I met a very young private of the 12th
+Londons (the Rangers). One of his arms was hanging limp and was, I
+should think, broken in two or three places. He was cut and bleeding
+about the face, and was altogether in a sorry plight.
+
+He stopped and asked me, "Is there a dressing station down there,
+mate?" pointing along the way I had come, and I replied, "Yes, keep
+straight on down the trench. It's a good way down. But," I added,
+"there's a stretcher-bearer only just gone along. Shall I see if I can
+get him for you?"
+
+His reply I shall never forget: "Oh, I don't want him for _me_. I want
+someone to come back with me to get my mate. _He's hurt!_"--_Wm. R.
+Smith, 231 Halley Road, Manor Park, E.12._
+
+
+The Winkle Shell
+
+Above the entrance to a certain dug-out somewhere in Flanders some wit
+had fixed a board upon which was roughly painted, "The Winkle Shell."
+
+The ebb and tide of battle left the dug-out in German hands, but one
+day during an advance the British infantry recaptured the trench in
+which "The Winkle Shell" was situated.
+
+Along the trench came a Cockney with his rifle ready and his bayonet
+fixed. Hearing voices coming from the dug-out he halted, looked
+reflectively at the notice-board, and then cautiously poking his
+bayonet into the dug-out called out, "Nah, then, come on aht of it
+afore I gits me blinkin' 'pin' busy."--_Sidney A. Wood (late C/275
+Battery, R.F.A.), 32 Lucas Avenue, Upton Park, E.13._
+
+
+Forgot his Dancing Pumps
+
+We were in a trench in front of Carnoy on the Somme when the Germans
+made a raid on us. It was all over in a few minutes, and we were minus
+eight men--taken away by the raiders.
+
+Shortly afterwards I was standing in a bay feeling rather shaky when
+a face suddenly appeared over the top. I challenged, and was answered
+with these words:
+
+"It's orl right. It's me. They was a-takin' us to a dance over there,
+but I abaht-turned 'arfway acrorst an' crawled back fer me pumps."--_E.
+Smith (late Middlesex Regt.), 2 Barrack Road, Aldershot._
+
+
+Lift Out of Order
+
+One day in 1916 I was sitting with some pals in a German dug-out
+in High Wood. Like others of its kind, it had a steep, deep shaft.
+Suddenly a shell burst right in the mouth of the shaft above, and the
+next instant "Nobby," a Cockney stretcher-bearer, landed plump on his
+back in our midst. He was livid and bleeding, but his first words were:
+"Strike! I thought the lift were outer order!"--_J. E., Vauxhall,
+S.W.8._
+
+
+Lost: A Fly Whisk
+
+During the very hot summer of 1916 in Egypt it was necessary, while
+eating, to keep on flicking one hand to keep the flies away from one's
+mouth.
+
+One day a heavy shell came over and knocked down my Cockney chum, Tubby
+White. He got up, holding his wrist, and started looking round.
+
+I said: "What have you lost, Tubby?"
+
+"Blimey," he said, "can't you see I've lost me blooming fly whisk?" It
+was then I noticed he had lost his hand.--_J. T. Marshall (Middlesex
+Regiment), 17 Evandale Road, Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+Change at Wapping
+
+When Regina Trench was taken in 1916 it was in a terrible state, being
+half full of thick liquid mud. Some of the fellows, sooner than wade
+through this, were getting up and walking along the top, although in
+view of the Germans.
+
+The Cockney signaller who was with me at the time, after slithering
+along the trench for a time, said: "I've 'ad enough er this," and
+scrambled out of the trench.
+
+He had no sooner got on top when--_zipp_--and down he came with a
+bullet through his thigh.
+
+While bandaging his wound I said: "We're going to have a job to get you
+out of here, but we'll have a good try."
+
+"That's all right," said the Cockney, "you carry on an' leave me. I'll
+wait for a blinkin' barge and change at Wapping."--_H. Redford (late
+R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham._
+
+
+"The Canary's Flowed Away!"
+
+I was in charge of a party carrying material from the dump to the
+Engineers in the front line. One of the party, a man from Camberwell,
+was allotted a bulky roll of barbed wire.
+
+After a desperate struggle through the muddy and narrow support
+trenches, we reached the front line. There was still another 400 yards
+to go, and our Cockney decided to continue the journey along the
+parapet.
+
+He had not gone far before the German machine guns began to spit and he
+fell in a heap into the bottom of the trench with the coil of barbed
+wire on top of him.
+
+Thinking he was wounded, I went back to him and inquired if he was hit.
+
+"'It? 'It be blowed," he said, "but if somebody was to take this
+blinkin' birdcage orf me chest I might be able to get up."
+
+The journey was completed through the trench, our friend being a sorry
+sight of mud and cut fingers and face.
+
+On arriving at our destination he dropped the wire at the feet of
+the waiting corporal with the remark, "'Ere you are, mate; sorry the
+canary's flowed away."--_A. S. G. (47th Division), Kent._
+
+
+"Go it, Applegarf! I'll time yer!"
+
+Our battalion was making a counter-attack at Albert on March 29, 1918,
+against a veritable hail of lead. Wounded in the thigh, I tumbled into
+a huge shell hole, already occupied by two officers of the Fusiliers
+(Fusiliers had been on our left), a lance-corporal of my own battalion,
+and three other men (badly wounded).
+
+Whilst I was being dressed by the lance-corporal another man jumped in.
+He had a bullet in the chest. It didn't need an M.O. to see that he was
+"all in," and he knew it.
+
+He proved to be the most heroic Cockney I have ever seen. He had only
+minutes to live, and he told us not to waste valuable bandages on him.
+
+Thereupon one of the officers advised me to try to crawl back before my
+leg got stiff, as I would stand a poor chance of a stretcher later with
+so many badly-wounded men about. If I got back safe I was to direct
+stretcher-bearers to the shell hole.
+
+I told the officer that our battalion stretcher-bearers were behind
+a ridge only about 100 yards in the rear, and as my wound had not
+troubled me yet I would make a sprint for it, as the firing was still
+too heavy to be healthy.
+
+On hearing my remarks this heroic Cockney, who must also have been a
+thorough sportsman, grinned up at me and, with death written on his
+face, panted: "Go it, Applegarf, an' I'll time yer." [Applegarth was
+the professional sprint champion of the world.] The Cockney was dead
+when I left the shell hole.--_F. W. Brown (late 7th Suffolks), 247
+Balls Pond Road, Dalston, N._
+
+
+That Other Sort of Rain
+
+We were out doing a spot of wiring near Ypres, and the Germans
+evidently got to know about it. A few "stars" went up, and then the
+_rat-tat-tat_ of machine guns told us more than we wanted to know.
+
+We dived for shell holes. Anybody who knows the place will realise
+we did not have far to dive. I found myself beside a man who, in the
+middle of a somewhat unhealthy period, found time to soliloquise:
+
+"Knocked a bit right aht me tin 'at. Thought I'd copped it that time.
+Look, I can get me little finger through the 'ole. Blimey, 'ope it
+don't rain, I shall git me 'ead all wet."--_H. C. Augustus, 67 Paragon
+Road, E.9._
+
+[Illustration: "'Ope it don't rain; I'd get me 'ead wet."]
+
+
+Better Job for Him
+
+I was at Vimy Ridge in 1916. On the night I am writing about we were
+taking a well-earned few minutes' rest during a temporary lull. We were
+under one of the roughly-built shelters erected against the Ridge, and
+our only light was the quivering glimmer from a couple of candles. A
+shell screeched overhead and "busted" rather near to us--and out went
+the candles.
+
+"Smith, light up those candles," cried the sergeant-major to his
+batman. "Smithy," who stuttered, was rather shaken and took some time
+to strike a match and hold it steadily to the candles. But no sooner
+were the candles alight than another "whopper" put them out again.
+
+"Light up those ruddy candles!" cried the S.M. again, "and don't dawdle
+about it!"
+
+"Smithy," muttering terrible things to himself, was fumbling for the
+matches when the order came that a bombing party was required to clear
+"Jerry" out of a deep shell-hole.
+
+"'Ere!" said "Smithy" in his rich Cockney voice. "J-just m-my m-mark.
+I'd r-rather f-frow 'eggs' t-than light c-c-candles!"--_W. C. Roberts,
+5 Crampton Street, S.E.17._
+
+
+Sentry's Sudden Relief
+
+I was the next turn on guard at a battery position in Armentières one
+evening in the summer of 1917. A Cockney chum, whom I was going to
+relieve, was patrolling the position when suddenly over came a 5·9,
+which blew him about four yards away.
+
+As he scrambled to his feet our sergeant of the guard came along,
+and my chum's first words were, "Sorry, sergeant, for deserting me
+post."--_T. F. Smithers (late R.F.A.), 14 Hilda Road, Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+The World Kept Turnin'
+
+The Poperinghe-Ypres road. A large shell had just pitched. Among the
+wounded was a Cockney who was noted for his rendering on every possible
+occasion of that well-known song, "Let the Great Big World Keep
+Turning."
+
+He was lying on the roadway severely hurt. Another Cockney went up to
+him and said "'Ello, matey, 'urt? Why ain't yer singin' 'Let the Great
+Big World Keep Turnin',' eh?"
+
+The reply came: "I _was_ a singin' on it, Bill, but I never thought it
+would fly up and 'it me."--_Albert M. Morsley (late 85th Siege Battery
+Am. Col.), 198 Kempton Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+That Blinkin' "Money-box"
+
+I was limping back with a wounded knee after the taking of
+Monchy-le-Preux on April 11, 1917, when a perky little Cockney of
+the 13th Royal Fusiliers who had a bandaged head caught me up with a
+cheery, "Tike me Chalk Farm (arm), old dear, and we'll soon be 'ome."
+
+I was glad to accept his kindly offer, but our journey, to say the
+least, was a hazardous one, for the German guns, firing with open
+sights from the ridge in front of the Bois du Sart, were putting
+diagonal barrages across the road (down which, incidentally, the
+Dragoon Guards were coming magnificently out of action, with saddles
+emptying here and there as they swept through that deadly zone on that
+bleak afternoon).
+
+Presently we took refuge in a sandbag shelter on the side of the road,
+and were just congratulating ourselves on the snugness of our retreat,
+when a tank stopped outside. Its arrival brought fresh gun-fire on us,
+and before long a whizz-bang made a direct hit on our shelter.
+
+When we recovered from the shock, we found part of our roof missing,
+and my little pal, poking his bandaged head through the hole, thus
+addressed one of the crew of the tank who was just visible through a
+gun slit:
+
+"Oi, why don't yer tike yer money-box 'ome? This ain't a pull-up fer
+carmen!"
+
+The spirit that little Cockney imbued into me that day indirectly
+saved me the loss of a limb, for without him I do not think I would
+have reached the advance dressing station in time.--_D. Stuart (late
+Sergeant, 10th R.F., 37th Division) 103 St. Asaph Road, Brockley,
+S.E.4._
+
+
+"Oo, You Naughty Boy!"
+
+In front of Kut Al-'Amarah, April 1916, the third and last attack
+on the Sannaiyat position, on the day before General Townshend
+capitulated. Days of rain had rendered the ground a quagmire, and lack
+of rations, ammunition, and shelter had disheartened the relief force.
+
+The infantry advanced without adequate artillery support, and were
+swept by heavy machine-gun fire from the entrenched Turks. One fellow
+tripped over a strand of loose barbed wire, fell down, and in rising
+ripped the seat nearly off his shorts. Cursing, he rejoined the slowly
+moving line of advancing men.
+
+Suddenly one sensed one of those fateful moments when men in the mass
+are near to breaking point. Stealthy looks to right and left were
+given, and fear was in the men's hearts. The relentless tat-tat-tat of
+machine guns, the "singing" of the driven bullets, and the dropping of
+men seemed as if it never would end.
+
+A Cockney voice broke the fear-spell and restored manhood to men. "Oo,
+'Erbert, you naughty boy!" it said. "Look at what you've done to yer
+nice trahsers! 'Quarter' won't 'arf be cross. He said we wasn't to play
+rough games and tear our trahsers."--_L. W. Whiting (late 7th Meerut
+Division), 21 Dale Park Avenue, Carshalton, Surrey._
+
+
+Cool as a Cucumber
+
+Early in 1917 at Ypres I was in charge of part of the advance party
+taking over some trenches from another London battalion. After this
+task had been completed I was told of a funny incident of the previous
+night.
+
+It appeared that the battalion we were due to relieve had been
+surprised by a small party of the enemy seeking "information." During
+the mêlée in the trench a German "under-officer" had calmly walked over
+and picked up a Lewis gun which had been placed on a tripod on top
+of the trench some little distance from its usual emplacement. (This
+was done frequently when firing at night was necessary so as to avoid
+betraying the regular gun position.)
+
+A boyish-looking sentry of the battalion on the left jumped out of the
+trench and went after the Jerry who was on his way "home" with the
+gun in his arms. Placing his bayonet in dangerous proximity to the
+"under-officer's" back, the young Cockney exclaimed, "Hi! Where the
+'ell are yer goin' wiv that gun? Just you put the 'coocumber' back on
+the 'barrer' and shove yer blinkin' 'ands up!"
+
+The "under-officer" lost his prize and his liberty, and I understand
+the young sentry received the M.M.--_R. McMuldroch (late 15th London
+Regt., Civil Service Rifles), 13 Meadway, Bush Hill Park, Enfield._
+
+
+The Sergeant's Tears
+
+One afternoon on the Somme our battery received a severe strafe from
+5·9's and tear-gas shells. There was no particular "stunt" on, so we
+took cover in a trench behind the guns.
+
+When the strafe had finished, we found our gun resting on one wheel,
+with sights and shield smashed by a direct hit. There was tear gas
+hanging about, too, and we all felt anything but cheerful.
+
+Myself and detachment were solemnly standing around looking at the
+smashed gun, and as I was wiping tears from my eyes, Smithy, our bright
+Walworth lad, said: "Don't cry, Sarg'nt, they're bahnd ter give us
+anuvver."--_E. Rutson (late Sergeant, R.F.A., 47th London Division),
+43a Wardo Avenue, S.W.6._
+
+
+"But yer carn't 'elp Laughin'"
+
+There were a bunch of us Cockneys in our platoon, and we had just
+taken over some supports. It being a quiet sector, we were mooning and
+scrounging around, some on the parapet, some in the trenches, and some
+at the rear.
+
+All at once a shower of whizz-bangs and gas shells came over; our
+platoon "sub." started yelling "Gas." We dived for the dug-outs.
+
+Eight of us tried to scramble through a narrow opening at once, and we
+landed in a wriggling mass on the floor. Some were kneeling and some
+were sitting, all with serious faces, until one fellow said: "Phew,
+it's 'ell of a war, but yer carn't 'elp laughin', can yer?"--_B. J.
+Berry (late 9th Norfolk Regt.), 11 Rosemont Avenue, N. Finchley, N.12._
+
+
+"Only an Orphan"
+
+He came to the battalion about three weeks before going overseas, and
+fell straight into trouble. But his Cockney wit got him out of trouble
+as well as into it.
+
+He never received a parcel or letter, but still was always the life of
+our company. He never seemed to have a care.
+
+We had been in France about a fortnight when we were ordered to the
+front line and over the top. He was one of the first over, shouting
+"Where's the blighters." They brought him in riddled with bullets.
+
+When I asked if I could do anything for him, he said: "Are there many
+hurt?" "Not many," I replied. "Thank Heaven for that," he replied.
+"Nobody 'll worry over me. I'm only a blinkin' orphan."--_W. Blundell
+(late N.C.O., 2nd East Surreys), Cranworth Gardens, S.W.9._
+
+
+Joking at the Last
+
+It was after the attack by the 2nd Londons on the village of Aubigny au
+Bac. I was hit by shell splinters, and whilst I was looking for someone
+to dress my wounds I came across one of the lads lying by the roadside
+mortally wounded.
+
+As I bent over him to give him a drink he noticed my blood-streaked
+face and gasped: "Crikey! Your barber was blinkin' clumsy this
+morning." So passed a gallant 2nd London man.--_E. C. Easts (M.M.),
+Eliot Place, Blackheath, S.E.3._
+
+
+Everybody's War
+
+During the general advance on the Somme in August 1918 our platoon
+became isolated from the rest of the company.
+
+We had been under heavy shell-fire for about three hours, and when at
+last things seemed to have quietened down, a German plane came over. We
+immediately jumped for cover and were concealed from view.
+
+The plane had only circled round a couple of times when a Cockney
+private, unable to resist the temptation any longer, jumped up and had
+a pot at it.
+
+He had fired three rounds when the N.C.O. pulled him down and called
+him a fool for giving away our position.
+
+The Cockney turned round and replied, "Blimey, ain't I in this blinkin'
+war as well as 'im?"--_E. Purcell (late 9th Royal Fusiliers), 4
+Lyndhurst Grove, Peckham, S.E.15._
+
+
+Orders is Orders
+
+When I was with the 6th Dorsets at Hooge, a party of us under a Cockney
+lance-jack were sent down the Menin Road to draw rations. It seemed as
+though the Germans knew we were waiting at the corner, for they were
+dropping shells all around us.
+
+After a while a voice in the darkness cried: "Don't stay there, you
+chaps; that's Hell Fire Corner!"
+
+"Can't 'elp it, guv'nor," replied our lance-jack. "'Ell Fire Corner or
+'Eaven's Delight, we gotta stop 'ere till our rations comes up."--_H.
+W. Butler (late 6th Dorsets), 2 Flint Cottages, Stone, Kent._
+
+
+Leaving the Picture
+
+As we were going "over" at Passchendaele a big one dropped just behind
+our company runner and myself. Our runner gave a shout and stumbling on
+a little way, with his hand on his side, said: "Every picture tells a
+story"--and went down.
+
+I just stopped to look at him, and I am sorry to say his war had
+finished. He came from Bow.--_G. Hayward (late Rifle Brigade), Montague
+Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+Ginger's Gun Stopped
+
+I was in a Lewis gun section, and our sergeant got on our nerves while
+we were learning the gun by always drumming in our ears about the
+different stoppages of the gun when in action. My mate, Ginger Bryant,
+who lived at Stepney, could never remember the stops, and our sergeant
+was always rousing poor old Ginger.
+
+Well, we found ourselves one day in the front line and Jerry had
+started an attack. Ginger was No. 1 on the gun and I was lying beside
+him as No. 2. We were giving Jerry beans with our gun when a bomb hit
+it direct and blew Ginger and myself yards away.
+
+Ginger had his hand blown off, but crawled back to the gun, which was
+smashed to pieces. He gave one look at it and shouted to me: "Nah go
+and ask that blinkin' sergeant what number stoppage he calls this one!"
+Next thing he fainted.--_Edward Newson (late 1st West Surrey), 61
+Moneyer Street, Hoxton, N.1._
+
+
+A Careless Fellow
+
+An officer with our lot was a regular dare-devil. He always boasted
+that the German bullet had not yet been made which could find him.
+
+One day, regardless of his own safety, he was on the parapet, and
+though many shots came over he seemed to bear a charmed life.
+
+One of the men happened to put his head just out of the trench when a
+bullet immediately struck his "tin hat" sending him backwards into the
+trench.
+
+The officer, from the parapet, looked down and said, "You _are_ a
+fool, I told you not to show yourself."--_A. Smith (Cameronians), 40
+Whitechapel Road, E.1._
+
+
+Standing Up to the Turk
+
+In the second attempt to capture Gaza we were making our advance in
+face of heavy machine-gun fire. In covering the ground we crouched
+as much as possible, the Turks directed their fire accordingly, and
+casualties were numerous, so our Cockney humorist shouted: "Stand up,
+boys. It's best to be hit in yer props (legs) than in yer blinkin'
+office (head)."--_W. Reed (late 7th Battn., Essex Regiment), 3
+Shenfield Road, Woodford Green, Essex._
+
+
+Lodging with the Bombs
+
+I was driving a lorry along the road from Dickebusch to Ypres when the
+Germans started shelling with shrapnel and high explosive.
+
+By the side of the road was a cottage, partly ruined, with the
+window-space boarded up: and, with some idea of seeking protection from
+the flying fragments, I leaned up against one of the walls.
+
+I hadn't been there long when a face appeared at a gap in the boards,
+and a voice said: "Do yer fink y're safe there, mate, cos we're chock
+full o' bombs in 'ere."--_Edward Tracey, c/o Cowley Cottage, Cowley,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+In Fine Feather
+
+While on the Somme in 1916 my battery was sent to rest in a village
+behind the line. The billet allotted to us had been an hotel, and all
+the furniture, including bedsteads and feather mattresses, had been
+stored in the room which did duty as an orderly room.
+
+Returning one day from exercise, we saw a flight of enemy 'planes
+coming over, and as we approached the billet a bomb was dropped
+straight through the roof of our building, the sole occupant of which
+at the time was a Cockney signaller on duty, in touch with Brigade
+Headquarters.
+
+[Illustration: "They must 'ave 'it a blinkin' sparrer."]
+
+We hurried forward, expecting to find that our signaller had been
+killed. The orderly room was a scene of indescribable chaos. Papers
+were everywhere. Files and returns were mixed up with "iron rations,"
+while in a corner of the room was a pile of feathers about 4 feet
+deep--all that remained of the feather mattresses. Of our signaller
+there was no sign.
+
+As we looked around, however, his head appeared from beneath the
+feather pile. His face was streaming with blood, and he looked more
+dead than alive, but as he surveyed his temporary resting-place, a grin
+spread over his features, and he picked up a handful of feathers.
+
+"Blimey!" he observed, "they must 'ave 'it a blinkin'
+sparrer."--_"Gunner," Oxford Street, W.1._
+
+
+All the Fun of the Fair
+
+At Neuve Eglise, March 1918, we were suddenly attacked by Jerry, but
+drove him back. Every now and again we spotted Germans dodging across a
+gap in a hedge. At once a competition started as to who could catch a
+German with a bullet as he ran across the gap.
+
+"Reminds me of shooting at the bottles and fings at the fair," said my
+pal, another Cockney Highlander.
+
+A second later a piece of shrapnel caught him in the hand. "Blimey, I
+always said broken glass was dangerous," he remarked as he gazed sadly
+at the wound.--_F. Adams (late H.L.I.), 64 Homestead Road, Becontree,
+Essex._
+
+
+Teacup in a Storm
+
+We were in support trenches near Havrincourt Wood in September 1917. At
+mid-day it was exceptionally quiet there as a rule.
+
+Titch, our little Cockney cook, proceeded one day to make us some tea
+by the aid of four candles in a funk-hole. To aid this fire he added
+the usual bit of oily "waste," and thereby caused a thin trail of smoke
+to rise. The water was just on the boil when Jerry spotted our smoke
+and let fly in its direction everything he had handy.
+
+Our trench was battered flat.... We threw ourselves into a couple of
+old communication trenches. Looking around presently for our cook
+we found him sitting beneath a waterproof sheet calmly enjoying his
+sergeant-major's tea. "Ain't none of you blokes firsty?" was his
+greeting.--_R. J. Richards (late 61st Trench Mortar Battery, 20th
+London Division), 15 London Street, W.2._
+
+
+Jack's Unwelcome Present
+
+Our company were holding the line, or what _was_ a line of trenches a
+short time before, when Jerry opened out with all kinds of loudspeakers
+and musical instruments that go to make war real.
+
+We were knocked about and nearly blinded with smoke and flying
+sandbags. The best we could do was to grope our way about with arms
+outstretched to feel just where we were.
+
+Eventually someone clutched me, saying, "Is that you, Charlie--are you
+all right?"
+
+"Yes, Jack," I answer, "are you all right?"
+
+"Well, I don't know fer sure," he says as he dives his hand through
+his tunic to his chest and holds on to me with the other. I had a soft
+place in my heart for Jack, for nobody ever sent him a parcel, so what
+was mine was Jack's. But not the piece of shrapnel that came out when
+he withdrew his hand from inside his tunic!
+
+"The only thing that ever I had sent me--and that from Jerry!" says
+Jack. "We was always taught to love our enemies!"
+
+They sure loved us, for shortly after I received my little gift of
+love, which put me to by-by for several months. But that Cockney lad
+from East London never grumbled at his hard lot. He looked at me,
+his corporal, and no wonder he clung round my neck, for he has told
+me since the war that he was only sixteen then. A brave lad!--_D. C.
+Maskell (late 20th Battn. Middlesex Regt.), 25 Lindley Road, Leyton,
+E.10_.
+
+
+Goalie Lets One Through
+
+In September 1916 we landed in a portion of German trench and I was
+given orders to hang on. Shells were bursting all around us, so we
+decided to have a smoke.
+
+My two Cockney pals--Nobby and Harry, who were a goalie and
+centre-forward respectively--were noted for their zeal in keeping us
+alive.
+
+Nobby was eager to see what was going on over the top, so he had a
+peep--and for his pains got shot through the ear. He fell back in a
+heap and exclaimed, "Well saved, goalie! Couldn't been better if I'd
+tried."
+
+"Garn," said Harry, bending over him, "it's blinkin' well gorn right
+frew, mate."--_Patrick Beckwith, 5 Duke Road, Chiswick, W.4._
+
+
+A Good Samaritan Foiled
+
+I was rather badly wounded near Bullecourt, on the Arras front, and was
+lying on a stretcher outside the dressing station.
+
+Nearby stood a burly Cockney with one arm heavily bandaged. In the
+other hand he held his ration of hot coffee.
+
+Noticing my distress, he offered me his drink, saying, "'Ere y'are,
+mate, 'ave a swig at this." One of the stretcher-bearers cried: "Take
+that away! He mustn't have it!"
+
+The Cockney slunk off.
+
+"All right, ugly," he said. "Take the food aht of a poor bloke's mouf,
+would yer?"
+
+Afterwards I learned the stretcher-bearer, by his action, had saved my
+life. Still, I shan't forget my Cockney friend's generosity.--_A. P. S.
+(late 5th London Regiment), Ilford._
+
+
+Proof of Marksmanship
+
+Poperinghe: a pitch-black night. We were resting when a party of the
+West Indian Labour Company came marching past. Jerry sent one over.
+Luckily, only one of the party was hit.
+
+A voice from the darkness: "Alf! keep low, mate. Jerry 'as got his eye
+in--'e's 'it a nigger in the dark!"--_C. Jakeman (late 4/4th City of
+London Royal Fusiliers), 5 Hembridge Place, St. John's Wood, N.W.8._
+
+
+"Well, He Ain't Done In, See!"
+
+During the great German offensive in March 1918 our company was trying
+to hold the enemy at Albert. My platoon was in an old trench in front
+of Albert station, and was in rather a tight corner, the casualties
+being pretty heavy. A runner managed to get through to us with a
+message. He asked our sergeant to send a man to another platoon with
+the message.
+
+One of my pals, named Gordon, shouted, "Give it to me; I'll go."
+
+He crept out of the trench and up a steep incline and over the other
+side, and was apparently being peppered by machine-gun fire all the
+way. We had little hope of him ever getting there. About a couple of
+hours later another Cockney cried: "Blimey! He's coming back!"
+
+We could see him now, crawling towards us. He got within a dozen yards
+of our trench, and then a Jerry "coal-box" arrived. It knocked us into
+the mud at the bottom of our trench and seemed to blow Gordon, together
+with a ton or so of earth, twenty feet in the air, and he came down in
+the trench.
+
+"That's done the poor blighter in," said the other Cockney as we rushed
+to him. To our surprise Gordon spoke:
+
+"Well, he ain't done in--see!"
+
+He had got the message to the other platoon, and was little the worse
+for his experience of being blown skyward. I think that brave fellow's
+deed was one of many that had to go unrewarded.--_H. Nachbaur (late 7th
+Suffolks), 4 Burnham Road, St. Albans, Herts._
+
+
+"Baby's Fell Aht er Bed!"
+
+The day before our division (38th Welch) captured Mametz Wood on the
+Somme, in July 1916, our platoon occupied a recently captured German
+trench. We were examining in a very deep dug-out some of Jerry's
+black bread when a heavy shell landed almost at the entrance with a
+tremendous crash. Earth, filled sandbags, etc., came thundering down
+the steps, and my thoughts were of being buried alive about forty feet
+underground. But amid all the din, Sam (from Walworth) amused us with
+his cry: "Muvver! Baby's fell aht er bed!"--_P. Carter (late 1st London
+Welch), 6 Amhurst Terrace, Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Stamp Edging Wanted
+
+During severe fighting in Cambrai in 1917 we were taking up position
+in the front line when suddenly over came a "present" from Jerry,
+scattering our men in all directions and causing a few casualties.
+
+Among the unfortunate ones was a Cockney whose right hand was
+completely blown off.
+
+In a sitting position he calmly turned to the private next to him and
+exclaimed "Blimey, they've blown me blinkin' German band (hand) off.
+Got a bit of stamp edging, mate?"--_T. Evans, 24 Russell Road, Wood End
+Green, Northolt, Greenford._
+
+
+"Oo's 'It--You or Me?"
+
+It was our fifth day in the front line in a sector of the Arras front.
+In the afternoon, after a terrible barrage, Jerry came over the top on
+our left, leaving our immediate front severely alone.
+
+Our platoon Lewis gun was manned at that time by "Cooty," a Cockney, he
+being "Number One" on the gun. We were blazing away at the advancing
+tide when a shell exploded close to the gun.
+
+"Cooty" was seen to go rigid for a moment, and then he quickly rolled
+to one side to make way for "Number Two" to take his place. He took
+"Number Two's" position beside the gun.
+
+The new "Number One" saw that "Cooty" had lost three fingers, and told
+him to retire. "Cooty" would not have that, but calmly began to refill
+an empty magazine. "Number One" again requested him to leave, and a
+sharp tiff occurred between them.
+
+"Cooty" was heard to say, "Look 'ere, oo's _'it_--you or me?" "You
+are," said "Number One."
+
+"Then mind your own blinkin' business," said "Cooty," "and get on with
+shelling these peas."
+
+Poor "Cooty," who had lost his left foot as well, passed out shortly
+after, was a Guardsman at one time.--_D. S. T., Kilburn, N.W._
+
+
+The Stocking Bomb
+
+We were a desert mobile column, half-way across the Sinai Peninsula
+from Kantara to Gaza. Turkish aeroplanes paid us a daily visit and
+pelted us with home-made "stocking-bombs" (old socks filled with nails,
+old iron, and explosives).
+
+On this particular day we were being bombed and a direct hit on one
+gunner's shoulder knocked him to the ground, but failed to explode.
+
+Sitting up in pain he blinked at the stocking-bomb and then at the
+plane and shouted: "Nah chuck us yer blinkin' boots dahn!" He then
+fainted and we helped him, but could not resist a broad smile.--_A.
+Crose, 77 Caistor Park Road, West Ham, E.15._
+
+
+Not an Acrobat
+
+In a communication trench on the Somme, near Guillemont, in August
+1916, we were halted for a "blow" on our way up when Jerry opened with
+shrapnel.
+
+Private Reynolds, from Marylebone, had his right hand cut off at the
+wrist. We bound his arm as best we could, and whilst doing so one man
+said to him, "A sure Blighty one, mate--and don't forget when you get
+home, drop us a line to let's know how you are getting on in hospital."
+
+"Yus! I'll write all right," said Reynolds, and then, suddenly, "'Ere,
+wot d'yer fink I am, a blinkin' acrobat? 'Ow can I write wivout a right
+arm ter write wiv?"--_A. Sharman (late 12th Royal Fusiliers), 177
+Grenville Road, N.W.2._
+
+
+Story Without an Ending
+
+Our gun position lay just behind the Ancre, and Fritz generally strafed
+us for an hour or two each day, starting about the same time. When the
+first shell came over we used to take cover in a disused trench.
+
+One day, when the strafe began, I grabbed two story magazines just
+before we went to the trench, and, arrived there, handed one to my
+Cockney pal.
+
+We had both been reading for some time when a shell burst uncomfortably
+near, and a splinter hit my pal's book and shot it right out of his
+hand. At which he exclaimed: "Fritz, yer blighter, I'll never know nah
+whether he was goin' to marry the girl or cut 'er bloomin' froat."--_G.
+W. Wicheloe (late 138th Heavy Battery, R.G.A.), 162 Stevens Road,
+Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+Cause and Effect
+
+A 5·9 had burst on the parados of our trench, and caused--as 5·9's
+usually did--a bit of a mess.
+
+A brand-new officer came around the trench, saw the damage, and asked:
+"Whatever caused this mess?"
+
+Without the slightest suspicion of a smile a Cockney private answered:
+"An explosive bullet, sir!"--_C. T. Coates, 46 Hillingdon Street,
+London, S.E.17._
+
+[Illustration: "... an explosive bullet, sir!"]
+
+
+The Cockney and the Cop
+
+During the final push near Cambrai Jerry had just been driven from a
+very elaborate observation post--a steel-constructed tower. Of course,
+we soon occupied it to enable us to see Jerry's hasty retreat.
+
+No sooner had we got settled when, crash, Jerry had a battery of
+pipsqueaks trained on us, firing gas shells. A direct hit brought the
+building down.
+
+By the time we had sorted ourselves out our eyes began to grow dim,
+and soon we were temporarily blind. So we took each other's hands, an
+ex-policeman leading.
+
+After a few moments a Cockney friend chimed out, "Say, Cop, do you
+think you can find the lock-up now, or had you better blow your
+whistle?"--_H. Rainford (late R.F.A.), 219 The Grove, Hammersmith,
+W.6._
+
+
+In the Drorin' Room
+
+It was on "W" Beach, Gallipoli, some months after the historic landing.
+It was fairly safe to picnic here, but for the attentions of "Beachy
+Bill," a big Turkish gun. I was with six other R.F.A. details in a
+dug-out which was labelled, or rather libelled, "The Ritz."
+
+"Smiler" Smith gave it that name, and always referred to this verminous
+hovel in terms of respect. Chalked notices such as "Wait for the Lift,"
+"Card Room," "Buffet," were his work.
+
+A dull thud in the distance--the familiar scream--and _plomp_ came one
+from "Bill," a few yards from the Ritz. Only "Smiler" was really hurt.
+He received a piece of shell on his arm. As they carried him away, he
+called faintly for his tobacco tin.
+
+"Where did you leave it, 'Smiler'?"
+
+"In the drorin' room on the grand pianner," said "Smiler"
+faintly.--_Gunner W. (late 29th Division, R.F.A.)._
+
+
+Getting His Goat
+
+Sandy was one of those whom nature seemed to have intended for a girl.
+Sandy by colour, pale and small of features, and without the sparkling
+wit of his Cockney comrades, he was the butt of many a joke.
+
+One dark and dirty night we trailed out of the line at Vermelles and
+were billeted in a barn. The farmhouse still sheltered its owner and
+the remainder of his live-stock, including a goat in a small shed.
+
+"Happy" Day, having discovered the goat, called out, "Hi, Sandy!
+There's some Maconochie rations in that 'ere shed. Fetch 'em in, mate."
+
+Off went Sandy, to return hastily with a face whiter than usual, and
+saying in his high treble: "'Appy, I can't fetch them. There's two
+awful eyes in that shed."
+
+Subsequently Jerry practically obliterated the farm, and when we
+returned to the line "Happy" Day appropriated the goat as a mascot.
+
+We had only been in the line a few hours when we had the worst
+bombardment I remember. Sandy and the goat seemed kindred spirits in
+their misery and terror.
+
+"Happy" had joined the great majority. The goat, having wearied of
+trench life and army service, had gone over the top on his own account.
+The next thing we knew was that Sandy was "over" after him, shells
+dropping around them. Then the goat and "Sandy Greatheart" disappeared
+behind a cloud of black and yellow smoke.--_S. G. Bushell (late Royal
+Berks), 21 Moore Buildings, Gilbert Street, W._
+
+
+Jennie the Flier
+
+It was my job for about two months, somewhere in the summer of 1917, to
+take Jennie the mule up to the trenches twice a day with rations, or
+shells, for the 35th Trench Mortar Battery, to which I was attached. We
+had to cover about 5 kilos. from the Q.M. stores at Rouville, Arras,
+to the line. When Jerry put a few over our way it was a job to get
+Jennie forward.
+
+One night we arrived with a full load, and the officer warned me to get
+unloaded quick as there was to be a big bombardment. No sooner had I
+finished than over came the first shell--and away went Jennie, bowling
+over two or three gunners.
+
+Someone caught her and I mounted for the return journey. Then the
+bombardment began in earnest.
+
+You ought to have seen her go! Talk about a racehorse! I kept saying,
+"Gee up, Jennie, old girl, don't get the wind up, we shall soon get
+back to Rouville!"
+
+I looked round and could see the flashes of the guns. That was the way
+to make Jennie go. She never thought of stopping till we got home.--_W.
+Holmes (9th Essex Regiment), 72 Fleet Road, Hampstead, N.W._
+
+
+A Mission Fulfilled
+
+On August 28, 1916, we were told to take over a series of food dumps
+which had been formed in the front and support lines at Hamel, on the
+Ancre, before a general attack came off.
+
+On the following night Corporal W----, a true and gallant Cockney
+who was in charge of a party going back to fetch rations, came to my
+dug-out to know if there were anything special I wished him to bring.
+
+I asked him to bring me a tin of cigarettes. On the return journey,
+as the party was crossing a road which cut through one of the
+communicating trenches, a shell struck the road, killing two privates
+and fatally wounding Corporal W----.
+
+Without a word the corporal put his hand into his pocket and, producing
+a tin, held it out to an uninjured member of the party.
+
+I got my smokes.--_L. J. Morgan (late Capt., The Royal Sussex
+Regiment), 1 Nevern Square, S.W.5._
+
+
+He Saved the Tea
+
+On the night before our big attack on July 1, 1916, on the Somme, eight
+of us were in a dug-out getting a little rest. Jerry must have found
+some extra shells for he was strafing pretty heavily.
+
+Two Cockney pals from Stratford were busy down on their hands and knees
+with some lighted grease and pieces of dry sandbag, trying to boil a
+mess-tin of water to make some tea.
+
+The water was nearly on the boil when Jerry dropped a "big 'un" right
+into the side of our dug-out.
+
+The smoke and dust had hardly cleared, when one of the Stratfordites
+exclaimed, looking down at the overturned mess-tin, "Blimey, that's
+caused it." Almost immediately his pal (lying on his back, his face
+covered with blood and dirt, and his right hand clasped tightly)
+answered: "'S'all right. I ain't put the tea and sugar in."--_J. Russ
+(Cpl., late 6th Battn. Royal Berkshire Regt.), 309 Ilford Lane, Ilford,
+Essex._
+
+
+Old Dutch Unlucky
+
+After a week in Ypres Salient in February 1915 we were back at a place
+called Vlamertinghe "resting," i.e. providing the usual working parties
+at night. Going out with one of these parties, well loaded with barbed
+wire, poles, etc., our rifles slung on our shoulders, things in general
+were fairly quiet. A stray bullet struck the piling swivel of the rifle
+of "Darkie," the man in front of me. "Missed my head by the skin of its
+teeth," said "Darkie." "Good job the old Dutch wasn't here. She reckons
+she's been unlucky ever since she set eyes on me--and there's another
+pension for life gone beggin'."--_B. Wiseman (late Oxford and Bucks
+L.I.), 12 Ursula Street, Battersea, S.W.11._
+
+
+A Long Streak of Misery
+
+Dusk was falling on the second day of the battle of Loos. I was
+pottering about looking for the other end of our line at the entrance
+to Orchard Street trench. A voice hailed me: "'Ere, mate! Is this the
+way aht?"
+
+It came from a little Cockney, a so-called "walking" wounded case.
+Immediately behind him there hobbled painfully six feet of complete
+abjection.
+
+I gave them directions, and told them that in two or three hundred
+yards they should be out of danger. Then Jerry dropped a "crump." It
+tortured the sorely-tried nerves of the long fellow, and when the
+bricks and dust had settled, he declared, with sudden conviction:
+"We're going to lose this blinkin' war, we are!"
+
+His companion gave him a look of contempt.
+
+"You ain't 'arf a long streak of misery," he said. "If I fort that I'd
+go back nah an' 'ave another shot at 'em--even if you 'ad to carry me
+back."--_"Lines," (33 (S) Bty), 24 Clifton Road, Maida Vale, W.9._
+
+
+"Smudger's" Tattoo
+
+"Smudger" Smith, from Hoxton, had just returned off leave, and joined
+us at Frankton Camp, near Ypres. Not long after his arrival "Jerry"
+started strafing us with his long-range guns, but "Smudger" was more
+concerned with the tattooing which he had had done on his arms on leave.
+
+I said they were very disfiguring, and advised him to have them
+removed, giving him an address to go to when he was again in London,
+and telling him the probable price.
+
+Not very long after our conversation "Jerry" landed a shell about forty
+yards away from us and made us part company for a while. When I pulled
+myself together and looked for "Smudger" he was half-buried with earth
+and looked in much pain.
+
+I went over to him and began to dig him out. Whilst I was thus engaged
+he said to me in a weak voice, but with a smile on his face:
+
+"How much did yer say it would corst to take them tattoos orf?" And
+when I told him he replied: "I fink I can get 'em done at harf-price
+nah."
+
+When I dug him out I found he had lost one arm.--_E. R. Wilson (late
+East Lancs Regt.), 22 Brindley Street, Shardeloes Road, New Cross,
+S.E.14._
+
+
+Importance of a "Miss"
+
+Soon after the capture of Hill 70 an artillery observation post was
+established near the new front line. A telephone line was laid to it,
+but owing to persistent shelling the wire soon became a mere succession
+of knots and joints. Communication was established at rare intervals,
+and repairing the line was a full-time job. A Cockney signaller and I
+went out at daybreak one morning to add more joints to the collection,
+and after using every scrap of spare wire available made another
+temporary job of it.
+
+Returning, however, we found at a cross-over that the wire had fallen
+from a short piece of board that had been stuck in the parapet to keep
+it clear of the trench. As my pal reached up to replace it his head
+caught the eye of a sniper, whose bullet, missing by a fraction, struck
+and knocked down the piece of wood.
+
+The signaller's exclamation was: "Blimey, mate, it's lucky he ain't
+broke the blinkin' line again!"--_J. Hudson (late R.G.A.), 6 Ventnor
+Road, New Cross, S.E.14._
+
+
+"In the Midst of War----"
+
+A battalion of a London regiment was in reserve in Rivière-Grosville, a
+small village just behind the line, in March 1917. Towards midnight we
+were ordered to fall in in fighting order as it was believed that the
+Germans had retired.
+
+Our mission was to reconnoitre the German position, and we were
+cautioned that absolute silence must be preserved.
+
+All went well until we reached the German barbed wire entanglements,
+that had to be negotiated by narrow paths, through which we proceeded
+softly and slowly, and with the wind "well up."
+
+Suddenly the air was rent by a stream of blistering invective, and a
+Cockney Tommy turned round on his pal, who had tripped and accidentally
+prodded him with the point of his bayonet, and at the top of his voice
+said:
+
+"Hi, wot's the blinkin' gime, Charlie? Do that again and I'll knock yer
+ruddy 'ead off."
+
+Charlie raised his voice to the level of the other's and said he'd
+like to see him do it, and while we flattened ourselves on the ground
+expecting a storm of bullets and bombs at any moment, the two pals
+dropped their rifles and had it out with their fists.
+
+Fortunately, rumour was correct, the Germans had retired.--_H. T.
+Scillitoe, 77 Stanmore Road, Stevenage, Herts._
+
+
+A Case for the Ordnance
+
+A pitch dark night on the Salonika front in 1917. I was in charge of an
+advanced detachment near a railhead.
+
+A general and a staff officer were travelling by rail-motor towards
+the front line when in the darkness the rail-motor crashed into
+some stationary freight trucks, completely wrecking the vehicle and
+instantly killing the driver.
+
+I rushed with a stretcher party to render help. The general and his
+staff officer were unconscious amid the wreckage.
+
+Feverishly we worked to remove the debris which pinned them down. Two
+of us caught the general beneath the shoulders, and one was raising his
+legs when to his horror one leg came away in his hand.
+
+When the general regained his senses, seeing our concern, he quickly
+reassured us. The leg turned out to be a wooden one! He had lost the
+original at Hill 60.
+
+The tension over, one of the stretcher-bearers, a Cockney from Mile
+End, whispered into my ear, "We can't take 'im to the 'orspital, sarge,
+he wants to go dahn to the Ordnance!"--_Sgt. T. C. Jones, M.S.M., 15
+Bushey Mill Lane, Watford._
+
+
+Dismal Jimmy's Prisoner
+
+Out of the ebb and flow, the mud and blood, the din and confusion
+of a two days' strafe on the Somme in September 1917 my particular
+chum, Private James X., otherwise known as "Dismal Jimmy," emerged
+with a German prisoner who was somewhat below the usual stature and
+considerably the worse for the wear and tear of his encounter with the
+Cockney soldier.
+
+"Jimmy," although obviously proud of his captive, was, as usual, "fed
+up" with the war, the strafe, and everything else. To make matters
+worse, on his way to the support trenches he was caught in the head by
+a sniper's bullet.
+
+His pet grievance, however, did not come from this particular
+misfortune, but from the fact that the prisoner had not taken advantage
+of the opportunity to "'Op it!" when the incident occurred. "Wot yer
+fink ov 'im, mate?" he queried. "Followed me all rahnd the blinkin'
+trenches, 'e did! Thinks I got a bit o' tripe on a skewer, maybe, th'
+dirty dog!" "Jimmy" muttered. Then he came under the orders of a Higher
+Command.--_H. J. R., 1 Central Buildings, Westminster, S.W.1._
+
+
+That Creepy Feeling
+
+In the brick-fields at La Bassée, 1915, there was a pump about five
+yards from our front line which we dare not approach in daylight. At
+night it was equally dangerous as it squeaked and so drew the sniper's
+fire.
+
+We gave up trying to use it after a few of our fellows had been sniped
+in their attempts, until Nobby Clarke said _he_ would get the water,
+adding: "That blinkin' sniper hasn't my name on any of his ruddy
+bullets."
+
+After he had gone we heard the usual squeak of the pump, followed by
+the inevitable _ping!_ ... _ping!_ We waited. No Nobby returned.
+
+Two of us crawled out to where he lay to bring him in. "Strewth, Bill,"
+he cried when my mate touched him, "you didn't 'arf put the blinkin'
+wind up me, _creepin' aht like that_!"
+
+There he lay, on his back, with a piece of rope tied to the handle of
+the pump. We always got our water after that.--_F. J. Pike (late 2nd
+Grenadier Guards), 4 Hilldrop Road, Bromley, Kent._
+
+
+"Toot-Sweet," the Runner
+
+Scene: Before Combles in the front line.
+
+Position: Acute.
+
+Several runners had been despatched from the forward position with
+urgent messages for Headquarters, and all had suffered the common
+fate of these intrepid fellows. One Cockney named Sweet, and known
+as "Toot-Sweet" for obvious reasons, had distinguished himself upon
+various occasions in acting as a runner.
+
+A volunteer runner was called for to cover a particularly dangerous
+piece of ground, and our old friend was to the fore as usual. "But,"
+said the company officer, "I can't send you again--someone else must
+go."
+
+Imagine his astonishment when "Toot-Sweet" said, "Giv' us this charnce,
+sir. I've got two mentions in dispatches now, an' I only want annuvver
+to git a medal."
+
+He went, but he did not get a medal.--_E. V. S. (late Middlesex Regt.),
+London, N.W.2._
+
+
+Applying the Moral
+
+Before we made an attack on "The Mound of Death," St. Eloi, in the
+early part of 1916, our Brigadier-General addressed the battalion and
+impressed upon us the importance of taking our objective.
+
+He told us the tale of two mice which fell into a basin of milk. The
+faint-hearted one gave up and was drowned. The other churned away with
+his legs until the milk turned into butter and he could walk away! He
+hoped that we would show the same determination in our attack.
+
+We blew up part of the German front line, which had been mined, and
+attacked each side of the crater, and took the position, though with
+heavy losses.
+
+On the following day one of my platoon fell into the crater, which, of
+course, was very muddy. As he plunged about in it he shouted "When I've
+churned this ruddy mud into concrete I'm 'opping aht of it."
+
+This was the action in which our gallant chaplain, Captain the Rev.
+Noel Mellish, won the V.C.--_"Reg. Bomber," 4th Royal Fusiliers, 3rd
+Division._
+
+
+Spelling v. Shelling
+
+An attack was to be made by our battalion at Givenchy in 1915. The
+Germans must have learned of the intention, for two hours before it was
+due to begin they sent up a strong barrage, causing many casualties.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"]
+
+Letters and cards, which might be their last, were being sent home by
+our men, and a Cockney at the other end of our dug-out shouted to his
+mate, "'Arry, 'ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"--_H. W. Mason (late 23rd
+London Regt.), 26 Prairie Street, Battersea, S.W._
+
+
+Too Much Hot Water
+
+We were taking a much-needed bath and change in the Brewery vats at
+Poperinghe, when Jerry started a mad five minutes' "strafe" with, as it
+seemed, the old Brewery as a target.
+
+Above the din of explosions, falling bricks, and general "wind-up" the
+aggrieved voice of Sammy Wilkes from Poplar, who was still in the vat,
+was heard:
+
+"Lumme, and I only asked for a little drop more 'ot water."--_Albert
+Girardot (late K.R.R.), 250 Cornwall Road, Ladbroke Grove, W.11._
+
+
+"Ducks and Drakes! Ducks and Drakes!"
+
+After the evacuation of the Dardanelles the "Drakes" of the Royal Naval
+Division were ordered to France. Amongst them was Jack (his real name
+was John). A young Soccer player, swift of foot, he was chosen as a
+"runner."
+
+One day he tumbled into a shell hole. And just as he had recovered his
+wits in came Colonel Freyberg, V.C., somewhat wounded. Seeing Jack, he
+told him he was just the boy he wanted--the lad had run away from home
+to join up before he was seventeen--and scribbling a note the colonel
+handed it to him.
+
+The boy was told if he delivered it safely he could help the colonel to
+take Beaucourt. Jack began to scramble out. It was none too inviting,
+for shells were bursting in all directions, and it was much more
+comfortable inside. With a wide vocabulary from the Old Kent Road, he
+timely remembered that his father was a clergyman, and muttering to
+himself, "Ducks and drakes, ducks and drakes," he reached the top and
+went on his way.
+
+The sequel was that the message was delivered, reinforcements came
+up, led by the boy to the colonel, and Beaucourt was taken.--_Father
+Hughes, 60 Hainault Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea._
+
+
+You Must have Discipline
+
+On September 14, 1916, at Angle Wood on the Somme, the 168th (London)
+Brigade Signals were unloading a limber on a slope, on top of which was
+a battery which Jerry was trying to find. One of his shells found us,
+knocking all of us over and wounding nine or ten of us (one fatally).
+
+As the smoke and dust cleared, our Cockney sergeant (an old soldier
+whose slogan was "You must have dis_cip_line") gradually rose to
+a sitting position, and, whipping out his notebook and pencil,
+called "Nah, then, oo's wounded?" and calmly proceeded to write down
+names.--_Wm. R. Smith (late R.E. Signals), 231 Halley Road, Manor Park,
+E.12._
+
+
+L.B.W. in Mespot
+
+At a certain period during the operations in Mesopotamia so dependent
+were both the British and the Turks on the supply of water from the
+Tigris that it became an unwritten law that water-carriers from both
+sides were not to be sniped at.
+
+This went on until a fresh British regiment, not having had the
+position explained, fired on a party of Turks as they were returning
+from the river. The next time we went down to get water the Turks,
+of course, returned the compliment; so from then onwards all water
+carrying had to be done under cover of darkness.
+
+On one of these occasions a Turkish sniper peppered our water party
+as they were returning to our lines. They all got back, however; but
+one, a man from Limehouse, was seen to be struggling with his water
+container only half full, and at the same time it was noticed that his
+trousers and boots were saturated.
+
+"Hi!" shouted the sergeant, "you've lost half the water. Did that
+sniper get your bucket?"
+
+"Not 'im," replied the Cockney, "I saw to that. 'E only got me leg."
+
+What, in the darkness, appeared to be water spilt from the bucket was
+really the result of a nasty flesh wound.--_J. M. Rendle (Lieut.,
+I.A.R.O.), White Cottage, St. Leonard's Gardens, Hove, Sussex._
+
+
+Trench-er Work
+
+We were attacking Messines Ridge. The ground was a mass of flooded
+shell-holes. Hearing a splash and some cursing in a familiar voice, I
+called out, "Are you all right, Tubby?"
+
+The reply came, as he crawled out of a miniature mine crater, "Yus, but
+I've lorst me 'ipe (rifle)."
+
+I asked what he was going to do, and he replied, "You dig them German
+sausages out with yer baynit and I'll eat 'em."
+
+So saying, he pulled out his knife and fork and proceeded towards the
+enemy trenches.--_"Pip Don" (London Regt.), 22 Ingram Road, Thornton
+Heath._
+
+
+"The Best Man--Goes Fust"
+
+In the second battle of Arras, 1917, our regiment was held up near
+Gavrelle and was occupying a line of shell-holes. The earth was heaving
+all around us with the heavy barrage. Peeping over the top of my
+shell-hole I found my neighbours, "Shorty" (of Barnes) and "Tiny" (of
+Kent) arguing about who was the best man.
+
+All of a sudden over came one of Jerry's five-nines. It burst too close
+to "Shorty," who got the worst of it, and was nearly done for. But he
+finished his argument, for he said to "Tiny" in a weak voice, "That
+shows you who's the best man. My ole muvver always says as the best
+goes fust."--_J. Saxby, Paddington, W.2._
+
+
+When Clemenceau Kissed the Sergeant
+
+About Christmas of 1917 I was on the Somme with one of the most
+Cockney of the many battalions of the Royal Fusiliers. As we sheltered
+in dug-outs from the "gale" Fritz was putting over, to our surprise
+we heard a voice greet us in French, "_Allons, mes enfants_: _Ça va
+toujours_."
+
+Looking up we beheld an old man in shabby suit and battered hat who
+seemed the typical French peasant. "Well, of all the old idiots,"
+called out the sergeant. "Shut yer face an' 'ook it, ye blamed old
+fool." For answer the old man gave the sergeant the surprise of his
+life by seizing him in a grip of iron and planting a resounding kiss on
+each cheek, French fashion.
+
+Just at that moment some brass hats came along and the mystery was
+explained. The "old fool" was the late Georges Clemenceau, then French
+War Minister, who had come to see for himself what it was like in our
+sector and had lost his guides.
+
+"An' to think that 'e kissed me just like I was a kid, after I'd told
+'im to 'ook it," commented the sergeant afterwards. "Wonder wot 'e'd 'a
+done 'ad I told 'im to go to 'ell, as I'd 'alf a mind to."
+
+Years later I was one of a party of the British Legion received in
+Paris by "The Tiger," and I recalled the incident. "Père La Victoire"
+laughed heartily. "That Cockney sergeant was right," he said, "I was an
+old fool to go about like that in the line, but then somebody has got
+to play the fool in war-time, so that there may be no follies left for
+the wise heads to indulge in."--_H. Stockman, Hôtel Terminus, Rue St.
+Lazare, Paris, VIIIème, France._
+
+
+Poet and--Prophet
+
+I was sitting with my pal in the trenches of the front line waiting
+for the next move when I heard our Cockney break into the chorus of a
+home-made song:
+
+    "'Twas moonlight in the trenches,
+      The sky was royal blue,
+    When Jerry let his popgun go,
+      And up the 'ole 'ouse flew."
+
+The last words were drowned in a terrific crash. There was sudden
+quiet afterwards, and then a voice said, "There y'are, wot did I tell
+yer?"--_T. E. Crouch, 28 Eleanor Road, Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Pub that Opened Punctually
+
+It was at the village of Zudkerque, where Fritz had bombed and blown up
+a dump in 1916. My pal and I were standing outside a cafe, the windows
+of which were shuttered, when the blast of a terrific explosion blew
+out the shutters. They hit my pal and me on the head and knocked us
+into the roadway.
+
+My pal picked himself up, and, shaking bits of broken glass off him and
+holding a badly gashed head, said: "Lumme, Ginger, they don't 'arf open
+up quick 'ere. Let's go an 'ave one."--_J. March (late R.E.), London,
+S.E._
+
+
+That Precious Tiny Tot
+
+We had paraded for the rum issue at Frankton Camp, near Ypres, when the
+enemy opened fire with long-range guns. A Cockney came forward with
+his mug, drew his issue, and moved off to drink it under cover and at
+leisure. Suddenly a large shell whooped over and burst about 40 yards
+away. With a casual glance at the fountain of earth which soared up,
+the man calmly removed his shrapnel helmet and held it over his mug
+until the rain of earth and stones ceased.--_"Skipper," D.L.I., London,
+W.2._
+
+
+Cigs and Cough Drops
+
+Cigarettes we knew not; food was scarce, so was ammunition.
+Consequently I was detailed on the eve of the retreat from Serbia to
+collect boxes of S.A.A. lying near the front line.
+
+On the way to report my arrival to the infantry officer I found a
+Cockney Tommy badly wounded in the chest. "It's me chest, ain't it,
+mate?" he asked. I nodded in reply. "Then I'll want corf drops, not
+them," and with that he handed me a packet of cigarettes. How he got
+them and secretly saved them up so long is a mystery.
+
+I believe he knew that he would not require either cough drops or
+cigarettes, and I took a vow to keep the empty packet to remind me of
+the gallant fellow.--_H. R. (late R.F.A.), 10th Division, London, N.3._
+
+
+"Smiler" to the End
+
+When Passchendaele started on July 31, 1917, we who were holding ground
+captured in the Messines stunt of June 7 carried out a "dummy" attack.
+
+One of the walking wounded coming back from this affair of bluff,
+I struck a hot passage, for Jerry was shelling the back areas with
+terrific pertinacity. Making my way to the corduroy road by Mount
+Kemmel, I struck a stretcher party. Their burden was a rifleman of
+the R.B.'s, whose body was a mass of bandages. Seeing me ducking and
+dodging every time a salvo burst near he called out:
+
+"Keep wiv me, mate, 'cos two shells never busts in the same 'ole--and
+if I ain't a shell 'ole 'oo is?"
+
+Sheer grit kept him alive until after we reached Lord Derby's War
+Hospital outside Warrington, and the nickname of "Smiler" fitted him to
+the last.--_W. G. C., 2 Avonly Road, S.E.14._
+
+
+"The Bishop" and the Bright Side
+
+A fully-qualified chartered accountant in the City, my pal, "The
+Bishop"--so called because of his dignified manner--was promoted
+company-clerk in the Irish Rifles at Messines in 1917.
+
+Company headquarters were in a dark and dismal barn where the Company
+Commander and "The Bishop" were writing under difficulties one
+fine morning--listening acutely to the shriek and crash of Jerry's
+whizz-bangs just outside the ramshackle door.
+
+The betting was about fifty to one on a direct hit at any moment. The
+skipper had a wary eye on "The Bishop"--oldish, shortish, stoutish,
+rather comical card in his Tommy's kit. Both were studiously preserving
+an air of outward calm.
+
+Then the direct hit came--high up, bang through the rafters, and blew
+off the roof. "The Bishop" looked up at the sky, still clutching his
+fountain-pen.
+
+"Ah, that's better, sir," he said. "Now we can see what we are
+doing."--_P. J. K., Westbourne Grove, W.2._
+
+
+"Chuck yer Blinkin' 'Aggis at 'im!"
+
+The Cockney inhabitants of "Brick Alley," at Carnoy, on the Somme in
+1916, had endured considerable attention from a German whizz-bang
+battery situated a mile or so away behind Trones Wood.
+
+During a lull in the proceedings a fatigue party of "Jocks," each
+carrying a 40-lb. sphere, the business end of a "toffee-apple" (trench
+mortar bomb), made their appearance, and were nicely strung out in the
+trench when Jerry opened out again.
+
+The chances of a direct hit made matters doubly unpleasant.
+
+The tension became a little too much for one of the regular billetees,
+and from a funk-hole in the side of the trench a reproachful voice
+addressed the nearest Highlander: "For the luv o' Mike, Jock, get up
+and chuck yer blinkin' 'aggis at 'em."--_J. C. Whiting (late 8th Royal
+Sussex Pioneers), 36 Hamlet Gardens, W.6._
+
+
+Back to Childhood
+
+I had been given a lift in an A.S.C. lorry going to Jonchery on May
+27, 1918, when it was suddenly attacked by a German plane. On getting
+a burst of machine-gun bullets through the wind-screen the driver, a
+stout man of about forty, pulled up, and we both clambered down.
+
+The plane came lower and re-opened fire, and as there was no other
+shelter we were obliged to crawl underneath the lorry and dodge from
+one side to the other in order to avoid the bullets.
+
+[Illustration: "Fancy a bloke my age playin' 'ide an' seek"]
+
+After one hurried "pot" at the plane, and as we dived for the other
+side, my companion gasped: "Lumme! Fancy a bloke my age a-playin' 'ide
+an' seek!"--_H. G. E. Woods, "The Willows," Bridge Street, Maidenhead._
+
+
+The Altruist
+
+One afternoon in July 1917 our battalion was lying by a roadside on the
+Ypres front waiting for night to fall so that we could proceed to the
+front line trenches.
+
+"Smiffy" was in the bombing section of his platoon and had a bag of
+Mills grenades to carry.
+
+Fritz began to get busy, and soon we had shrapnel bursting overhead.
+"Smiffy" immediately spread his body over his bag of bombs like a hen
+over a clutch of eggs.
+
+"What the 'ell are you sprawling over them bombs for?" asked the
+sergeant.
+
+"Well," replied Smiffy, "it's like this 'ere, sergeant. I wouldn't mind
+a little Blighty one meself, but I'd jest 'ate for any of these bombs
+ter get wounded while I'm wiv 'em."--_T. E. M. (late London Regt.),
+Colliers Wood, S.W.19._
+
+
+"Minnie's Stepped on my Toe!"
+
+We were lying in front of Bapaume in August 1918 awaiting
+reinforcements. They came from Doullens, and among them was a Cockney
+straight from England. He greeted our sergeant with the words, "Wot
+time does the dance start?" The sergeant, an old-timer, replied, "The
+dance starts right now."
+
+So over the top we went, but had not gone far when the Cockney was
+bowled over by a piece from a minnenwerfer, which took half of one foot
+away.
+
+I was rendering first aid when the sergeant came along. He looked down
+and said, "Hello, my lad, soon got tired of the dance, eh?"
+
+The little Cockney looked up and despite his pain he smiled and said,
+"On wiv the dance, sergeant! I'm sitting this one aht, fer Minnie has
+stepped on my toe."--_E. C. Hobbs (late 1st Royal Marine Battn.), 103
+Moore Park Road, Fulham, S.W._
+
+
+In the Dim Dawn
+
+Jerry had made a surprise raid on our trenches one morning just as
+it was getting light. He got very much the worst of it, but when
+everything was over Cockney Simmonds was missing.
+
+We hunted everywhere, but couldn't find him. Suddenly we saw him
+approaching with a hefty looking German whom he had evidently taken
+prisoner.
+
+"Where did you get him from, Simmonds?" we asked.
+
+"Well, d'yer see that shell-'ole over there 'alf full o' water?"
+
+"Yes," we said, all craning our necks to look.
+
+"Well, this 'ere Fritz didn't."--_L. Digby (12th East Surreys), 10
+Windsor Road, Holloway, N.7._
+
+
+Beau Brummell's Puttees
+
+March 1918. Just before the big German offensive. One night I was out
+with a reconnoitring patrol in "No Man's Land." We had good reason to
+believe that Jerry also had a patrol in the near vicinity.
+
+Suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire in our direction seemed to
+indicate that we had been spotted. We dived for shell-holes and any
+available cover, breathlessly watching the bullets knock sparks off
+the barbed wire. When the firing ceased and we attempted to re-form
+our little party, a Cockney known as "Posh" Wilks was missing.
+
+Fearing the worst, we peered into the darkness. Just then a Verey
+light illuminated the scene, and we saw the form of "Posh" Wilks
+some little distance away. I went over to see what was wrong, and
+to my astonishment he was kneeling down carefully rewinding one of
+his puttees. "Can't get these ruddy things right anyhow to-day," he
+said.--_H. W. White (late Royal Sussex Regt.), 18 Airthrie Road,
+Goodmayes, Essex._
+
+
+Plenty of Room on Top
+
+On December 4, 1917, we made a surprise attack on the enemy in the
+Jabal Hamrin range in Northern Mesopotamia.
+
+We wore our winter clothing (the same as in Europe), with tin hats
+complete. After stumbling over the rocks in extended order for some
+time, the platoon on my left, who were on higher ground, sighted a
+Turkish camp fire on the right.
+
+We swung round in that direction, to find ourselves up against an
+almost blank wall of rock, about 20 ft. high, the enemy being somewhere
+on top.
+
+At last we found a place at which to scale it, one at a time. We began
+to mount, in breathless silence, expecting the first man to come
+tumbling down on top of all the rest.
+
+I was the second, and just as I started to climb I felt two sharp tugs
+at my entrenching tool and a hoarse Cockney voice whispered, "Full up
+inside; plenty o' room on top." I was annoyed at the time, but I have
+often laughed over it since.--_P. V. Harris, 89 Sherwood Park Road,
+S.W.16._
+
+
+Nearly Lost His Washing-Bowl
+
+In March 1917 we held the front line trenches opposite a sugar refinery
+held by the Germans. We got the order to stand to as our engineers were
+going to blow up a mine on the German position.
+
+Up went the mine. Then Fritz started shelling us. Shells were bursting
+above and around us. A piece of shrapnel hit a Cockney, a lad from
+Paddington, on his tin hat.
+
+When things calmed down another Cockney bawled out, "Lumme, that was a
+near one, Bill." "Blimey, not 'arf," was the reply. "If I 'adn't got my
+chin-strap dahn I'd 'ave lost my blooming washing-bowl."--_E. Rickard
+(late Middlesex Regt.), 65 Apsley End, Hemel Hempstead, Herts._
+
+
+Bath Night
+
+The trenches on the Somme were very deep and up to our knees in mud,
+and we were a pretty fine sight after being in the front line several
+days over our time.
+
+I shall never forget the night we passed out of the trenches--like a
+lot of mud-larks. The O.C., seeing the state we were in, ordered us to
+have a bath. We stopped at an old barn, where the R.E.'s had our water
+ready in wooden tubs. Imagine the state of the water when, six to a
+tub, we had to skim the mud off after one another!
+
+Just as we were enjoying the treat, Jerry started sending over some of
+his big stuff, and one shell took the back part of the barn off.
+
+Everybody began getting out of the tubs, except a Cockney, who sat up
+in his tub and shouted out, "Blimey, Jerry, play the blinkin' game.
+Wait till I've washed me back. I've lorst me soap."--_C. Ralph (late
+Royal Welch Fusiliers), 153d Guinness Buildings, Hammersmith, W.6._
+
+
+Back to the Shack
+
+Whilst on the Somme in October 1916 my pal Mac (from Notting Hill)
+and myself were sent forward to a sunken road just behind Les Boeufs
+to assist at a forward telephone post which was in communication with
+battalion H.Q. by wire and with the companies in the trenches by runner.
+
+During the night a false "S O S" was sent up, and our guns opened
+out--and, of course, so did the German guns--and smashed our telephone
+wire.
+
+It being "Mac's" turn out, he picked up his 'phone and went up the
+dug-out steps. When he had almost reached the top a big shell burst
+right in the dug-out entrance and blew "Mac" back down the stairs to
+the bottom, bruised, but otherwise unhurt.
+
+Picking himself up slowly he removed his hat, placed his hand over his
+heart, and said, gazing round, "Back to the old 'ome agin--and it ain't
+changed a bit."--_A. J. West (late Corpl., Signals), 1/13th London
+Regt., 212 Third Avenue, Paddington, W.10._
+
+
+His Last Gamble
+
+One night in July 1917, as darkness came along, my battalion moved up
+and relieved a battalion in the front line.
+
+Next morning as dawn was breaking Jerry started a violent strafe. My
+platoon occupied three fire-bays, and we in the centre one could shout
+to those in the bays on either side, although we could not see them.
+
+In one of the end bays was "Monte Carlo" Teddy, a true lad from London,
+a "bookie's tick-tack" before the war. He was called "Monte Carlo"
+because he would gamble on anything. As a shell exploded anywhere near
+us Teddy would shout, "Are you all right, sarge?" until this kind of
+got on my nerves, so I crawled into his bay to inquire why he had
+suddenly taken such an interest in my welfare. He explained, "I gets up
+a draw larst night, sarge, a franc a time, as to which of us in this
+lot stopped a packet first, and you're my gee-gee."
+
+I had hardly left them when a shell exploded in their bay. The only
+one to stop a packet was Teddy, and we carried him into the next bay
+to await the stretcher-bearers. I could see he would never reach the
+dressing station.
+
+Within five minutes I had stopped a lovely Blighty, and they put me
+alongside Teddy. When he noticed who it was he said, "Well I'm blowed,
+just my blinkin' luck; licked a short head and I shan't last long
+enough to see if there's a' objection."
+
+Thus he died, as he always said he would, with his boots on, and my
+company could never replace him. Wherever two men of my old mob meet
+you can bet your boots that one or the other is sure to say, "Remember
+'Monte Carlo' Ted?"--_E. J. Clark (late Sergeant, Lincoln Regt.), c/o
+Sir Thomas Lipton, Bart., K.C.V.O., Osidge, Southgate, N.14._
+
+
+That Infernal Drip-Drip-Drip!
+
+We were trying to sleep in half a dug-out that was roofed with a
+waterproof sheet--Whale and I. It was a dark, wet night. I had hung a
+mess tin on a nail to catch the water that dripped through, partly to
+keep it off my head, also to provide water for an easy shave in the
+morning.
+
+A strafe began. The night was illuminated by hundreds of vivid flashes,
+and shells of all kinds burst about us. The dug-out shook with the
+concussions. Trench mortars, rifle grenades, and machine-gun fire
+contributed to the din.
+
+Whale, who never had the wind up, was shifting his position and turning
+from one side to the other.
+
+"What's the matter?" I asked my chum. "Can't you sleep?"
+
+"Sleep! 'Ow the 'ell can a bloke sleep with that infernal
+_drip-drip-drip_ goin' on?"--_P. T. Hughes (late 21st London Regiment,
+47th Division), 12 Shalimar Gardens, Acton, W._
+
+
+"A Blinkin' Vanity Box"
+
+After the terrific upheaval of June 7, 1917, my brigade (the 111th)
+held the line beyond Wytschaete Ridge for some weeks. While my company
+was in support one day my corporal and I managed to scrounge into a
+pill-box away from the awful mud. We could not escape the water because
+the explosion of the mines on June 7 had cracked the foundation of our
+retreat and water was nearly two feet deep on the floor.
+
+Just before dusk on this rainy July evening I was shaving before a
+metal mirror in the top bunk in the pill-box, while the corporal washed
+in a mess-tin in the bunk below. Just then Jerry started a severe
+strafe and a much-muddied runner of the 13th Royal Fusiliers appeared
+in the unscreened doorway.
+
+"Come in and shelter, old man," I said. So he stepped on to an
+ammunition box that just failed to keep his feet clear of the water.
+
+He had watched our ablutions in silence for a minute or so, when a
+shell burst almost in the doorway and flung him into the water below
+our bunks, where he sat with his right arm red and rent, sagging at his
+side.
+
+"Call this a shelter?" he said. "Blimey, it's a blinkin' vanity
+box!"--_Sgt., 10th R.F., East Sheen, S.W.14._
+
+
+Playing at Statues
+
+We were making our way to a detached post just on the left of Vimy, and
+Jerry was sending up Verey lights as we were going along. Every time
+one went up we halted, and kept quite still in case we should be seen.
+
+It was funny indeed to see how some of the men halted when a light
+went up. Some had one foot down and one raised, and others were in a
+crouching position. "My missus orta see me nah playing at blinkin'
+statchoos," said one old Cockney.--_T. Kelly (late 17th London Regt.),
+43 Ocean Street, Stepney, E.1._
+
+[Illustration: "Playin' at statchoos."]
+
+
+Bo Peep--1915 Version
+
+In 1915 at Fricourt "Copper" Kingsland of our regiment, the 7th Royal
+West Surreys, was on sentry on the fire-step in the front line. At this
+period of the war steel helmets were not in use. Our cap badge was in
+the form of a lamb.
+
+A Fritz sniper registered a hit through Kingsland's hat, cutting the
+tail portion of the lamb away. After he had pulled himself together
+"Copper" surveyed his cap badge and remarked: "On the larst kit
+inspection I reported to the sargint that yer was lorst, and nah I
+shall 'ave ter tell 'im that when Bo Peep fahnd yer, yer wagged yer
+bloomin' tail off in gratitood."--_"Spot," Haifu, Farley Road, Selsdon,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry's Dip in the Fat
+
+We were out at rest in an open field on the Somme front when one
+morning, about 5 a.m., our cook, Alf, of Battersea, was preparing the
+company's breakfast. There was bacon, but no bread. I was standing
+beside the cooker soaking one of my biscuits in the fat.
+
+Suddenly a Jerry airman dived down towards the cooker, firing his
+machine gun. I got under the cooker, Alf fell over the side of it,
+striking his head on the ground. I thought he was hit. But he sat up,
+rubbing his head and looking up at Jerry, who was then flying away.
+
+"'Ere!" he shouted, "next time yer wants a dip in the fat, don't be
+so rough."--_H. A. Redford (late 24th London Regt.), 31 Charrington
+Street, N.W.1._
+
+
+Carried Unanimously
+
+Some recently captured trenches had to be cleared of the enemy, and in
+the company told off for the job was a Cockney youth. Proceeding along
+the trench with a Mills bomb in his hand, he came upon a number of the
+enemy hiding in a dug-out.
+
+"Nah then," he shouted, holding up the bomb in readiness to throw it
+if necessary, "all them as votes for coming along wiv me 'old up your
+'ands."
+
+All hands were held up, with the cry "Kamerad! Kamerad!" Upon which the
+Cockney shouted, "Look, mates, it's carried unanermously."--_H. Morgan
+(late 4th Telegraph Construction Co., R.E. Signals), 26 Ranelagh Road,
+Wembley._
+
+
+A Very Hot Bath
+
+During the retreat of the remnants of the Fifth Army in March 1918 two
+of the six-inch howitzers of the Honourable Artillery Company were in
+action in some deserted horse-lines outside Péronne.
+
+During a lull Gunner A----, a Londoner, like the rest of us, went
+"scrounging" in some nearby cottages recently abandoned by their
+inhabitants. He reappeared carrying a large zinc bath, and after
+filling it with water from the horse pond he made a huge bonfire with
+broken tables and other furniture, and set the bath on the fire.
+
+Just when the water had been heated Fritz opened out with 5·9's. As
+we were not firing just then we all took cover, with the exception of
+Gunner A----, who calmly set his bath of hot water down by one of the
+guns, undressed, and got into the bath. A minute later a large piece of
+shell also entered the bath, passed through the bottom of it and into
+the ground.
+
+The gunner watched the precious water running out, then he slowly rose
+and, beginning to dress, remarked, "Very well, Fritz, have it your way.
+I may not be godly, but I _did_ want to be clean."--_Edward Boaden
+(late H.A.C., 309 Siege Battery), 17 Connaught Gardens, Muswell Hill,
+N.10._
+
+
+In Lieu of ----
+
+During a winter's night on the Somme a party of us were drawing rations
+just behind the front line trenches. A Cockney chum of mine was
+disgusted to hear the Q.M. say he was issuing hot soup in lieu of rum.
+
+"Coo! What next?" he grumbled. "Soup in lieu of rum, biscuits in
+lieu of bread, jam in lieu----" While he spoke Jerry sent over two
+whizz-bangs which scattered us and the rations and inflicted several
+casualties.
+
+My chum was hit badly. As he was being carried past the Q.M. he smiled
+and said, "Someone will have to be in lieu of me now, Quarter!"--_T.
+Allen (late Plymouth Battn., R.N.D.), 21 Sydney Street, S.W._
+
+
+Putting the Hatt on It
+
+Two brothers named Hatt were serving together in France. The elder was
+always saying that he would never be hit, as the Germans, not being
+able to spell his name correctly, could not put it on any of their
+shells or bullets. (It was a common saying among the soldiers, of
+course, that a shell or bullet which hit a man had the victim's name on
+it.)
+
+The younger brother was taken prisoner, and two days later the elder
+brother was shot through the finger. Turning to his mates he exclaimed,
+"Blimey, me brother's been an' split on me."--_W. J. Bowes, 224 Devon's
+Road, Bow, E.3._
+
+
+Tangible Evidence
+
+We were at Levantie in 1915, just before the Battle of Loos, and the
+rumour was about that the Germans were running short of ammunition. It
+was very quiet in our sector, as we were opposite the Saxons, and we
+strolled about at ease.
+
+A party of us was told off to get water just behind the trenches in
+an old farmhouse which had a pump. We filled all the water bottles
+and rum jars and then had a look round the ruins to see what we could
+scrounge, when suddenly Fritz sent a shell over. It hit the wall and
+sent bricks flying all over the place. One of the bricks hit my mate on
+the head and knocked him out. When we had revived him he looked up and
+said, "Strewth, it's right they ain't got no 'ammo.'; they're slinging
+bricks. It shows yer we've got 'em all beat to a frazzle, don't
+it?"--_J. Delderfield, 54 Hampden Street, Paddington._
+
+
+What the Cornwalls' Motto Meant
+
+A platoon of my regiment, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, was
+engaged in carrying screens to a point about 200 yards behind the
+front line. The screens were to be set up to shield a road from German
+observation balloons, and they were made of brushwood bound together
+with wire. They were rolled up for convenience of transport, and when
+rolled they looked like big bundles of pea-sticks about ten feet long.
+They were very heavy.
+
+Three men were told off to carry each screen. One of the parties of
+three was composed of two Cornishmen (who happened to be at the ends
+of the screen) and their Cockney pal (in the middle), the screen being
+carried on their shoulders.
+
+When they had nearly reached the point in the communication trench
+where it was to be dumped, Jerry sent over a salvo of whizz-bangs. His
+range was good, and consequently the carrying party momentarily became
+disorganised. The Cornishman at the front end of the screen dashed
+towards the front line, whilst the man at the other end made a hurried
+move backwards.
+
+This left the Cockney with the whole of the weight of the screen on his
+shoulder. The excitement was over in a few seconds and the Cornishmen
+returned to find the Cockney lying on the duckboards, where he had
+subsided under the weight of his burden, trying to get up. He stopped
+struggling when he saw them and said very bitterly, "Yus: One and All's
+yer blinkin' motter; _one_ under the blinkin' screen and _all_ the rest
+'op it."
+
+"One and All," I should mention, is the Cornwalls' motto.--_"Cornwall,"
+Greenford, Middlesex._
+
+
+Atlas--On the Somme
+
+During the Somme offensive we were holding the line at Delville Wood,
+and a Cockney corporal fresh from England came to our company.
+
+He was told to take charge of a very advanced post, and our company
+officer gave him all important instructions as to bomb stores,
+ammunition, rifle grenades, emergency rations, S O S rockets, gas, and
+all the other numerous and important orders for an advanced post.
+
+After the officer asked him if he understood it all, he said, "Blimey,
+sir, 'as 'Aig gone on leave?"--_Ex-Sergt. Geary, D.C.M. (East Surrey
+Regt.), 57 Longley Road, Tooting._
+
+
+Putting the Lid on It
+
+On the Struma Front, Salonika, in September 1916, I was detailed to
+take a party of Bulgar prisoners behind the lines.
+
+Two Bulgars, one of them a huge, bald-headed man, were carrying a
+stretcher in which was reposing "Ginger" Hart, of Deptford, who was
+shot through the leg.
+
+The white bursts of shrapnel continued in our vicinity as we proceeded.
+One shell burst immediately in front of us, and we halted.
+
+It was at this juncture that I saw "Ginger" leave his stretcher and
+hop away on one leg. Having picked up a tin hat, he hopped back to the
+big Bulgar prisoner and put the hat on his bald head, saying, "Abaht
+time we put the lid on the sooit puddin', corp: that's the fifth shot
+they've fired at that target."--_G. Findlay, M.M. (late 81st Infantry
+Brigade, 27th Division), 3a Effie Place, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Taffy was a--German!
+
+In the confused fighting round Gueudecourt in 1916 a machine-gun
+section occupied a position in a maze of trenches, some of which led
+towards the German line. The divisional pioneer battalion was the
+Monmouthshire Regiment, all of whose men were Welsh and for the most
+part spoke Welsh.
+
+A ration party of the M.G.C. had gone back one night and had been
+absent some time when two members rushed into the position, gasping:
+"We took the wrong turning! Walked into Jerry's line! They've got
+Smiffy--and the rations!"
+
+We had hardly got over the shock of this news when Smiffy came
+staggering up, dragging the rations and mopping a bleeding face, at the
+same time cursing the rest of the ration party.
+
+"Luv us, Smiffy, how did you get away? We thought the Germans had got
+you for sure!"
+
+"Germans," gasped Smiffy. "GERMANS! _I thought they was the
+Monmouths!_"--_S. W. Baxter (late 86th M.G.C.), 110 Bishopsgate, E.C.2._
+
+
+A Tea-time Story
+
+At the Battle of Cambrai in November 1917 my regiment, the London Irish
+Rifles, was undergoing a terrific bombardment in Bourlon Wood.
+
+The Germans had been plastering us for about 12 hours with "all
+calibres," to say nothing of continual gassing.
+
+As we had been wearing gas-masks almost all day without respite, we
+were nearly "all in" as the afternoon wore on.
+
+I was attending to a man with a smashed foot, when I felt a touch on
+my shoulder, and, blinking up through my sweat-covered mask, I saw our
+mess-orderly with his hand over a mess-tin (to keep the gas out, as he
+said).
+
+I could hardly believe my eyes, but when I heard him say, "Tea is
+ready, Sarg. Blimey, what a strafe!" I lifted my mask and drank deeply.
+
+From that day till this it has been a wonder to me how he made it.--_S.
+Gibbons,130 Buckhold Road, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+A Tip to a Prisoner
+
+The object of our raiding party near Gouzeaucourt in 1917 was to obtain
+a prisoner.
+
+One plucky, but very much undersized, German machine gunner blazed away
+at us until actually pounced upon. A Cockney who was well among the
+leaders jumped down beside him, and heaving him up said:
+
+"Come on, old mate, you're too blinkin' good for this side!"--and then,
+noticing his lack of inches, "and if yer wants ter make the 'old man'
+larf tell him you're a 'Prussian Guard.'"--_Walter S. Johnson (late
+R.W.F.), 29 Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Cockney Logic
+
+Early in the war aeroplanes were not so common as they were later on,
+and trench "strafing" from the air was practically unheard of. One
+day two privates of the Middlesex Regiment were engaged in clearing
+a section of front line trench near the La Bassée road when a German
+plane came along and sprayed the trenches with machine-gun bullets.
+
+[Illustration: ...and they both went on digging]
+
+One of the men (both were typical Cockneys) looked up from his digging
+and said: "Strike, there's a blinkin' aeroplane."
+
+The other took no notice but went on digging.
+
+By-and-by the machine came back, still firing, whereupon the speaker
+again looked up, spat, and said: "Blimey, there's annuver of 'em."
+
+"No, 'tain't," was the reply, "it's the same blighter again."
+
+"Blimey," said the first man, "so 'tis." And both went on digging.--_W.
+P. (late Middlesex Regt. and R.A.F.), Bucks._
+
+
+"Penalty, Ref!"
+
+It was a warm corner on the Givenchy front, with whizz-bangs dealing
+out death and destruction. But it was necessary that communication be
+maintained between the various H.Q.'s, and in this particular sector
+"Alf," from Bow, and myself were detailed to keep the "lines" intact.
+
+Suddenly a whizz-bang burst above us as we were repairing some
+shattered lines. We ducked instinctively, but friend "Alf" caught a bit
+of the shell and was thrown to the bottom of the slushy trench.
+
+Being a football enthusiast he at once raised his arm in appeal, and,
+with the spirit that wins wars, shouted, "Penalty, ref!"
+
+He was dazed, but unhurt.--_W. G. Harris (late Sergt., R.E.), 34
+Denmark Street, Watford._
+
+
+An Appointment with his Medical Adviser
+
+During the battle of the Ancre in November 1916 the 51st Division were
+going over the top on our left while our battalion kept Jerry engaged
+with a raid. Every inch of the rain-sodden landscape seemed to be
+heaving beneath the combined barrages of the opposing forces.
+
+My sergeant, a D.C.M., had been lying in the trench badly wounded for
+some hours waiting for things to ease up before he could be got down
+to the dressing-station. Presently our raiding party returned with six
+prisoners, among them an insignificant-looking German officer (who,
+waving a map about, and jabbering wildly, seemed to be blaming his
+capture to the faulty tactics of his High Command).
+
+The wounded sergeant watched these antics for a while with a grin,
+driving the pain-bred puckers from his face, and then called out, "Oi,
+'Indenburg! Never mind abaht ye map o' London; wot time does this 'ere
+war end, 'cos I've got an appointment wiv my medical adviser!"
+
+Dear, brave old chap. His appointment was never kept.--_S. T. (late
+37th Div.), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+One Up, and Two to Go
+
+On the Struma front in 1917 a bombing plane was being put back into its
+hangar. Suddenly there was a terrific bang. A dozen of us ran up to see
+what had happened, but a Cockney voice from inside the hangar cried
+out, "Don't come in. There's two more bombs to go off, and I can't find
+'em."--_A. Dickinson, Brixton._
+
+
+On the Parados
+
+Dawn of a very hot day in September 1916 on the Balkan front. We were
+in the enemy trenches at "Machine Gun Hill," a position hitherto
+occupied by the Prussian Guards, who were there to encourage the
+Bulgars.
+
+We had taken the position the previous evening with very little loss.
+As the day broke we discovered that we were enfiladed on all sides
+and overlooked by the Prussians not more than forty yards away. It
+was impossible to evacuate wounded and prisoners or for reserves to
+approach with food, water, and ammunition. The enemy counter-attacked
+in overwhelming numbers; shells rained on us; our own were falling
+short; it was suicide to show one's head. Towards noon, casualties
+lying about. The sun merciless. Survivors thoroughly exhausted. Up
+jumped a Cockney bomber. "Blimey, I can't stick this," and perched
+himself on the parados. "I can see 'em; chuck some 'Mills' up." And as
+fast as they were handed to him he pitched bombs into the Prussians'
+midst, creating havoc. He lasted about three minutes, then fell,
+riddled with bullets. He had stemmed the tide.
+
+Shortly afterwards we retired. His pluck was never recorded or
+recognised, but his feat will never be forgotten by at least one of the
+few who got through.--_George McCann, 50 Guilford Street, London, W._
+
+
+Not Croquet
+
+We were occupying a support line, early in 1918, and a party of us was
+detailed to repair the barbed wire during the night.
+
+A Cockney found himself holding a stake while a Cornish comrade drove
+it home with a mallet.
+
+Suddenly a shell exploded a few yards from the pair and both were very
+badly wounded.
+
+When the Cockney recovered consciousness he was heard to remark to his
+comrade in misfortune, "Blimey, yer wants to be more careful wiv that
+there mallet; yer nearly 'it my 'and wiv it when that there firework
+exploded."--_A. A. Homer, 16 Grove Place, Enfield Wash, Middlesex._
+
+
+Sausages and Mashed
+
+At the end of 1914 we were in the trenches in the Ypres Salient. As
+we were only about 30 yards from the enemy lines, bombing went on all
+day. The German bombs, shaped like a long sausage, could be seen coming
+through the air. Our sentries, on the look-out for these, would shout:
+"Sausage right!" or "Sausage left!" as they came over.
+
+One night we were strengthened by reinforcements, including several
+Cockneys. The next morning one of our sentries saw a bomb coming
+over and shouted "Sausage right!" There followed an explosion which
+smothered two of our new comrades in mud and shreds of sandbag. One of
+the two got up, with sackcloth twisted all round his neck and pack.
+"'Ere, Bill, wot was that?" he asked one of our men.
+
+"Why, one of those sausages," Bill replied.
+
+"Lumme," said the new man, as he freed himself from the sacking, "I
+don't mind the sausages, but," he added as he wiped the mud from his
+eyes and face, "I don't like the mash."--_H. Millard (late East Surrey
+Regt.), 3 Nevill Road, Stoke Newington, N._
+
+
+Cheery to the End
+
+We were lining up to go over in the Battle of Arras on April 9, 1917.
+Ours being a Lancashire regiment, there were only two of us Cockneys in
+our platoon. We were standing easy, waiting for the rum issue, and Tom,
+my pal (we both came from Stratford), came over to me singing "Let's
+all go down the Strand...."
+
+Most of the Lancashire lads were looking a bit glum, but it cheered
+them up, and they all began to sing. I was feeling a bit gloomy myself,
+and Tom, seeing this, said: "What's the matter with you, Jimmy?"
+
+"I suppose I'll see you in London Hospital next week, Tom," I said.
+
+"Oh, shut up," says he. "If Jerry sends one over and it's got our names
+on it, why worry? And if we get a bad Blighty one, then I hopes they
+buries us at Manor Park. Here, Jim, tie this disc round me neck."
+
+Then the rum came up, and he started them singing, "And another little
+drink wouldn't do us any harm!"
+
+Off we went--and only ten minutes later he was gone. He was buried at
+Blany, Arras, not Manor Park.--_J. Pugh (late 1st King's Own Royal
+Lancasters), 27 Lizban Street, Blackheath, S.E.5._
+
+
+Souvenirs First
+
+The following incident took place during the Battle of Loos, September
+1915. I had been to Battalion H.Q. with a message and whilst awaiting a
+reply stood with others on "Harrow Road" watching our wounded go by.
+
+We frequently recognised wounded pals on the stretchers and inquired as
+to the nature of their wounds. The usual form of inquiry was: "Hullo
+---- what have you got?" In reply to this query one wounded man of our
+battalion, ignoring his wound as being of lesser importance, proudly
+answered: "Two Jerry helmets and an Iron Cross!"--_A. H. Bell (late
+Private, 15th London Regt., T.F.), 31 Raeburn Avenue, Surbiton, Surrey._
+
+
+Seven Shies a Tanner!
+
+It was near Hebuterne and very early in the morning of July 1, 1916. A
+terrific bombardment by both the Germans and ourselves was in progress
+just prior to the launching of our Somme offensive. We were in assembly
+trenches waiting for the dread zero hour.
+
+Away on our right some German guns were letting us have it pretty hot,
+and in consequence the "troops" were not feeling in the best of spirits.
+
+With us was a very popular Cockney corporal. He took his tin hat from
+off his head when the tension was high and, banging on it with his
+bayonet, cried: "Roll up, me lucky lads! Seven shies a tanner! Who'll
+'ave a go!" That bit of nonsense relieved the tension and enabled us to
+pull ourselves together.--_A. V. B. (late 9th Londons), Guildford._
+
+
+Bill Hawkins Fights Them All
+
+Whilst on the Ypres front during the fighting in 1918 we made an
+early-morning attack across the railway line in front of Dickebusch.
+After going about fifty yards across No Man's Land my Cockney pal (Bill
+Hawkins, from Stepney), who was running beside me, got a slight wound
+in the arm, and before he had gone another two yards he got another
+wound in the left leg.
+
+Suddenly he stopped, lifted his uninjured arm at the Germans and
+shouted, "Blimey, wot yer all firing at me for? Am I the only blinkin'
+man in this war?"--_S. Stevens (late Middlesex Regt., 2nd Battn.), 7
+Blenheim Street, Chelsea, S.W._
+
+
+Hide and Seek with Jerry
+
+To get information before the Somme offensive, the new idea of making
+daylight raids on the German trenches was adopted. It fell to our
+battalion to make the first big raid.
+
+Our objective was the "brick-fields" at Beaurains, near Arras, and our
+orders were to take as many prisoners as possible, hold the trench
+for half an hour, do as much damage as we could, and then return. A
+covering barrage was put down, and over we went, one hundred strong.
+
+We got into Jerry's trench all right, but, owing to the many dug-outs
+and tunnels, we could only find a few Germans, and these, having no
+time to bolt underground, got out of the trench and ran to take cover
+behind the kilns and brick-stacks.
+
+And then the fun began. While the main party of us got to work in the
+trench, a few made after the men who had run into the brick-fields, and
+it was a case of hide and seek, round and round and in and out of the
+kilns and brick-stacks.
+
+Despite the seriousness of the situation, one chap, a Cockney, entered
+so thoroughly into the spirit of the thing that when, after a lengthy
+chase, he at last clapped a German on the shoulder, he shouted, "You're
+'e!"--_E. W. Fellows, M.M. (late 6th D.C.L.I.), 35 Dunlace Road,
+Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Too Much for his Imagination
+
+In the platoon of cyclists I was posted to on the outbreak of war was
+a Cockney--a "Charlie Chaplin" without the funny feet. If there was a
+funny side to a thing, he saw it.
+
+One day, on the advance, just before the battle of the Marne, our
+platoon was acting as part of the left flank guard when a number of
+enemy cavalry were seen advancing over a ridge, some distance away. We
+were ordered to dismount and extend. We numbered about sixteen, so our
+line was not a long one.
+
+A prominent object was pointed out to us, judged at about 150 yards
+away, and orders were given not to fire until the enemy reached that
+spot.
+
+We could see that we were greatly outnumbered, and having to wait for
+them to reach that spot seemed to double the suspense. Our leader was
+giving commands one second and talking like a father the next. He said,
+"Keep cool; each take a target; show them you are British. You have as
+good a chance as they, and although they are superior in numbers they
+have no other superior quality. I want you just to imagine that you
+are on the range again, firing for your pay." Then our Cockney Charlie
+chimed in with: "Yes, but we ain't got no bloomin' markers."--_S. Leggs
+(late Rifle Brigade and Cyclists), 33 New Road, Grays, Essex._
+
+
+"Currants" for Bunn
+
+After we had taken part in the advance on the Somme in August 1916 my
+battalion was ordered to rest at Bazentin.
+
+We had only been there a day or so when we were ordered to relieve
+the Tyneside Scottish who were badly knocked about. Hardly had we
+reached the front lines, when a little Cockney named Bunn (we never
+knew how he carried his pack, he was so small) got hit. We called for
+stretcher-bearers.
+
+When they put him on the stretcher and were carrying him down the line,
+a doctor asked him his name. The Cockney looked up with a smile and
+answered: "Bunn, sir, and the blighters have put some currants into me
+this time." This gallant Cockney died afterwards.--_J. E. Cully (late
+13th King's Royal Rifles), 76 Milkwood Road, S.E.24._
+
+
+The Driver to his Horse
+
+The artillery driver's affection for his own particular pair of
+horses is well known. Our battery, in a particularly unhealthy spot
+in front of Zillebeke, in the Salient, had run out of ammunition, and
+the terrible state of the ground thereabout in the autumn of 1917
+necessitated the use of pack-horses to "deliver the goods," and even
+then it was accomplished with difficulty.
+
+A little Cockney driver with a pair named Polly and Bill had loaded
+up and was struggling through the mire. Three times Bill had dragged
+him on to his knees and up to his waist in the slush when a big Fritz
+shell dropped uncomfortably near. Polly, with a mighty rear, threw the
+Cockney on to his back and, descending, struck him with a hoof.
+
+Fed up to the teeth and desperate, he struggled to his feet, covered
+from head to feet in slime, and, clenching his fist, struck at the
+trembling and frightened horse, unloading a brief but very vivid
+description of its pedigree and probable future.
+
+Then, cooling off, he began to pacify the mare, apologised, and
+pardoned her vice by saying, "Never mind, ole gal--I didn't mean ter
+bash yer! I fought the uvver one was hot stuff, but, strike me pink,
+you don't seem _'ooman_!"--_G. Newell (ex-Sergt., R.F.A.), 22 Queen
+Road, St. Albans._
+
+
+Two Kinds of "Shorts"
+
+August 1916, Delville Wood. We had been brought specially from rest
+camp to take the remainder of the wood, which was being stoutly
+contested by the Germans and was holding up our advance. The usual
+barrage, and over we went, and were met by the Germans standing on top
+of their trenches. A fierce bombing fight began. The scrap lasted a
+long time, but at last we charged and captured the trench.
+
+[Illustration: "Yus, yer needn't stare--I'm real."]
+
+One of our men, quite a small Cockney, captured a German about twice
+his own size. The German was so surprised at being captured by a person
+so insignificant looking that he stood and stared. Our Cockney, seeing
+his amazement, said: "Yus, yer needn't stare, I'm real, and wot's more,
+I got a good mind ter punch yer under the blinkin' ear fer spoiling me
+rest!"--_F. M. Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Batt. D.C.L.I), 33
+Dunlace Road, Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Mespot--On 99 Years' Lease
+
+I was in Mesopotamia from 1916 till 1920, and after the Armistice was
+signed there was still considerable trouble with the Arabs.
+
+In the summer of 1919 I, with a party of 23 other R.A.S.C. men, was
+surrounded by the Arabs at an outpost that was like a small fort. We
+had taken up supplies for troops stationed there. There were about 100
+Indian soldiers, and a few British N.C.O.'s in charge.
+
+It was no use "running the gauntlet." We were on a hill and kept the
+Arabs at bay all day, also the next night.
+
+The next day all was quiet again, but in the afternoon an Arab rode
+into the camp on horseback with a message, which he gave to the first
+Tommy he saw. It happened to be one of our fellows, a proper Cockney.
+He read the message--written in English--requesting us to surrender.
+
+Our Cockney pal said a few kind words to the Arab, and decided to send
+a message back.
+
+He wrote this on the back of the paper: "Sorry, Mr. Shake. We have
+only just taken the place, and we have got it on 99 years' lease.
+Yours faithfully, Old Bill and Co., Ltd., London."--_W. Thurgood (late
+R.A.S.C., M.T.), 46 Maldon Road, Southend-on-Sea, Essex._
+
+
+"Fro Something at Them!"
+
+There was a certain divisional commander in France who enjoyed a
+popularity that was almost unique. He was quite imperturbable, whatever
+the situation.
+
+Unfortunately, he had an impediment in his speech, and when first one
+met him he was difficult to understand. But heaven help anyone who
+asked him to repeat anything. A light would come into his eye, and he
+would seize hold of his victim by the shoulder-strap and heave and tug
+till it came off.
+
+"You'll understand me," he would say, "when I tell you your
+shoulder-strap is undone!"
+
+The Division he commanded had just put up a wonderful fight just
+south of Arras in the March '18 show, and, having suffered very heavy
+casualties, were taken out of the line and put into a cushy front next
+door to the Portuguese.
+
+The morning after they took over the Germans launched a heavy attack
+on the Portuguese, who withdrew somewhat hurriedly, so that the whole
+flank of the British division was open.
+
+The general was sitting eating his breakfast--he had been roused at
+six by the bombardment--when an excited orderly came into the room and
+reported that the Germans had got right in behind the Division and were
+now actually in the garden of the general's château.
+
+The general finished drinking his cup of coffee, the orderly still
+standing to attention, waiting instructions.
+
+"Then you had better 'fro' something at them--or shoo them away," said
+the general.--_F. A. P., Cavalry Club, Piccadilly, W._
+
+
+Missed his Mouth-organ
+
+During the Battle of the Somme our trench-mortar battery was going back
+after a few days' rest. It was very dark and raining. As we neared our
+destination it appeared that Jerry and our chaps were having a real
+argument.
+
+We were going up a road called "Queen's Hollow." Jerry was enfilading
+us on both sides, and a rare bombing fight was going on at the farther
+end of the Hollow--seventy or a hundred yards in front of us. We were
+expecting to feel the smack of a bullet any moment, and there was a
+terrible screeching and bursting of shells, with a few "Minnies" thrown
+in. We were in a fine pickle, and I had just about had enough when
+my pal (a lad from "The Smoke") nearly put me on my back by stopping
+suddenly.
+
+"I don't like this, Bomb," he said.
+
+"What's wrong with you? Get on," I replied, "or we'll all be blown sky
+high."
+
+"Oh, all right," he said, "but I wish I'd brought me mouf orgin. I
+could then have livened fings up a bit."--_"Bombardier" (R.A.), late
+T.M.B., 7th Division._
+
+
+Water-cooled
+
+There must be at least six men still alive who remember a certain
+affair at Kemmel. During the latter part of April 1918 our machine
+gunners had been having a bad time, and one old Cockney sergeant found
+himself and his party isolated miles in front of our line.
+
+The cool way in which he gave orders, as he told his men to make
+their way back--lying down for a bit, then making a run for another
+shelter--would have been humorous if conditions had not been so
+terrifying.
+
+He himself kept his gun working to protect their retreat, and when
+he saw they had reached a place of safety he picked up his gun and
+rejoined them unhurt.
+
+One of his men, describing the action afterwards, said, "Carried his
+gun three miles--wouldn't part with it--and the first thing he did when
+he was able to settle down quietly was to start cleaning the blessed
+thing!"--_H. R. Tanner, "Romsdal," Newton Ferrers, S. Devon._
+
+
+Top-hatted Piper of Mons
+
+During the retreat from Mons it was a case of "going while the going
+was good" until called upon to make a stand to harass the enemy's
+advance.
+
+After the stand at Le Cateau, bad and blistered feet caused many to
+stop by the wayside. Among these, in passing with my little squad,
+I noticed a piper belonging to a Scottish regiment sitting with his
+blistered feet exposed and his pipes lying beside him. Staff officers
+were continually riding back and urging the parties of stragglers to
+make an effort to push on before they were overtaken.
+
+In the late afternoon of this same day, having myself come up with my
+unit, I was resting on the roadside when I heard the skirl of bagpipes.
+Before long there came into sight, marching with a fair swing, too,
+as motley a throng as one ever saw in the King's uniform. Headed by a
+staff officer were about 150 men of all regiments with that same piper,
+hatless and with one stocking, in front.
+
+Beside him was a Cockney of the Middlesex Regiment, with a silk hat
+on his head, whose cheeks threatened to burst as he churned out the
+strains of "Alexander's Rag-time Band" on the bagpipes. Being a bit
+of a piper himself, he was giving "Jock" a lift and was incidentally
+the means of fetching this little band away from the clutches of the
+enemy.--_"Buster" Brown (late Bedfordshire Regt.), Hertford._
+
+
+Two Heads and a Bullet
+
+Early in 1916 ten of us were going up with rations--chiefly bread and
+water. In one part of the trench there were no duckboards and the vile
+mud was thigh-deep.
+
+Here we abandoned the trench and stumbled along, tripping over barbed
+wire and falling headlong into shell-holes half-full of icy water.
+
+A German sniper was at work. Suddenly a bullet pinged midway between
+the last two of the party.
+
+"Hear that?" said No. 9. "Right behind my neck!"
+
+"Yes," replied No. 10, "right in front of my bloomin' nose!"--_C. A.
+Davies (late 23rd R. Fusiliers), 85 Saxton Street, Gillingham, Kent._
+
+
+Spoiling the Story
+
+We were billeted in the upper room of a corner house north of Albert,
+and were listening to "Spoofer's" memories of days "dahn Walworf way."
+
+"Yus," he said, "I ses to the gal, 'Two doorsteps an' a bloater.'"
+
+At that moment a "coal-box" caught the corner of the house, bringing
+down the angle of the wall and three-parts of the floor on which we had
+squatted.
+
+Except for bruises, none of us was injured, and when the dust subsided
+we saw "Spoofer" looking down at us from a bit of the flooring that
+remained intact.
+
+"Yus," he continued, as though nothing had happened, "as I was saying,
+I'd just called fer the bloater...."
+
+Came another "coal-box," which shook down the remainder of the floor
+and with it "Spoofer."
+
+Struggling to his hands and knees, he said, "Blimey, the blinkin'
+bloater's cold nah."--_F. Lates, 62 St. Ervan's Road, North
+Kensington._
+
+
+Afraid of Dogs
+
+Towards the end of October 1918 I was out on patrol in front of Tournai
+on a dark, windy night. I had a Cockney private with me, and we were
+some distance from our lines when we heard a dog barking. All at once,
+before I could stop him, the Cockney whistled it.
+
+I threw the Cockney down and dropped myself. A German Verey light went
+up--followed by a hail of machine-gun bullets in our direction. As the
+light spread out, we saw the dog fastened to a German machine-gun! We
+lay very still, and presently, when things had quietened down, we slid
+cautiously backwards until it was safe to get up.
+
+All the Cockney said was, "Crikey, corp, I had the wind up. A blinkin'
+good job that there dawg was chained up. Why? 'Cause 'e might 'ave
+bitten us. I allus was afeard o' dawgs."--_J. Milsun (late 1/5th
+Battn., The King's Own 55th Div.), 31 Collingwood Road, Lexden,
+Colchester._
+
+
+The Song of Battle
+
+At the first Gaza battle we had to advance 1,700 yards across a plain
+in full view of the Turks, who hurled a terrific barrage at us. We were
+in artillery formation, and we marched up until within rifle range.
+With machine guns and artillery the Turks were depleting our ranks, so
+that less than half of us were still marching on at 500 yards range.
+
+In my section was the Cockney "funny man" of the company. When things
+were bad, and we were all wondering how long we would survive, he began
+singing lustily a song which someone had sung at our last concert party
+behind the lines, the refrain of which was "I've never heard of anybody
+dying from kissing, have you?"
+
+Before he had started on the second line nearly everyone was singing
+with him, and men were killed singing that song. To the remainder of us
+it acted like a tonic.
+
+Good old Jack, when he was wounded later he must have been in terrible
+pain, yet he joked so that at first we would not believe he was
+seriously hit. He shouted, "Where is 'e?--let me get at 'im."--_J. T.
+Jones (late 54th Division), 37 Whittaker Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+Stalls at "Richthofen's Circus"
+
+A New Zealander was piloting an old F.E. 2B (pusher) 'plane up and down
+over the lines, observing for the artillery, when he got caught by
+"Richthofen's Circus."
+
+The petrol tank behind the pilot's seat was set on fire and burning oil
+poured past him into the observer's cockpit ahead and the clothes of
+both men started to sizzle.
+
+They were indeed in a warm situation, their one hope being to dive into
+Zillebeke Lake, which the New Zealander noticed below. By the time they
+splashed into the water machine and men were in flames; and, moreover,
+when they came up the surface surrounding them was aflame with the
+burning oil.
+
+Treading water desperately and ridding themselves of their heavy sodden
+flying coats, they made a last bid for life by swimming under water,
+that flaming water, and at last, half-dead, reached the bank.
+
+There a strong arm gripped the New Zealander by the scruff of the neck
+and he was hauled to safety, dimly aware of a hoarse voice complaining
+bitterly, "Ours is the best hid battery in this sector, the only
+unspotted battery. You _would_ choose just 'ere to land, wouldn't yer,
+and give the bloomin' show away?"
+
+Our Cockney battery sergeant-major had, no doubt, never heard of Hobson
+or his choice.--_E. H. Orton, 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden City, Herts._
+
+
+"Butter-Fingers!"
+
+A Cockney infantryman of the 47th Division was on the fire-step on the
+night preceding the attack at Loos. He was huddled up in a ground-sheet
+trying to keep cheerful in the drizzle.
+
+Suddenly a British 12-in. shell passed over him, and as he heard its
+slow rumble he muttered, "Catch that one, you blighters."
+
+Just then it burst, and with a chuckle he added, "Oh, butter-fingers,
+yer dropped it!"--_Henry J. Tuck (late Lt., R.G.A.)._
+
+
+Getting into Hot Water
+
+We were in the front line, and one evening a Battersea lad and myself
+were ordered to go and fetch tea for the company from the cook-house,
+which was in Bluff Trench. It was about a mile from the line down a
+"beautiful" duckboard track.
+
+With the boiling tea strapped to our backs in big containers, both
+of which leaked at the nozzles, we started for the line. Then Jerry
+started sniping at us. There came from the line a sergeant, who
+shouted, "Why don't you lads duck?" "That's right," replied my chum.
+"D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded to death?"--_H. G. Harrap (23rd
+London Regiment), 25 Renfrew Road, S.E._
+
+[Illustration: "D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded ter death?"]
+
+
+
+
+2. LULL
+
+
+Rate of Exchange--on Berlin
+
+With four Cockney comrades of the Rifle Brigade, during 1915 at
+Fleurbaix, I was indulging in a _quiet_ game of nap in the front line.
+
+One man dropped out, "broke to the wide." Being an enthusiastic card
+player, he offered various articles for sale, but could find no buyers.
+At last he offered to _find_ a Jerry prisoner and sell him for a franc.
+
+He was absent for some time, but eventually turned up with his hostage,
+and, the agreement being duly honoured, he recommenced his game with
+his fresh capital.
+
+All the players came through alive, their names being J. Cullison, F.
+Bones, A. White, W. Deer (the first-named playing leading part), and
+myself.--_F. J. Chapman (late 11th Batt. Rifle Brigade), 110 Beckton
+Road, Victoria Docks, E.16._
+
+
+A Hen Coup
+
+During the retreat from Mons strict orders were issued against looting.
+One day an officer, coming round a corner, discovered a stalwart
+Cockney Tommy in the act of wringing the neck of an inoffensive-looking
+chicken. The moment the Tommy caught sight of his officer he was heard
+to murmur to the chicken, "Would yer, yer brute!" Quite obviously,
+therefore, the deed had been done in self-defence.--_The Rev. T. K.
+Lowdell, Church of St. Augustine, Lillie Road, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+A "Baa-Lamb" in the Trenches
+
+The "dug-out" was really a hole scraped in the side of a trench leading
+up to the front line and some 50 yards from it. It was October '16 on
+the Somme, after the weather had broken. The trench was about two feet
+deep in liquid mud--a delightful thoroughfare for runners and other
+unfortunate ones who had to use it.
+
+The officer in the dug-out heard the _splosh--splosh--splosh_ ... of a
+single passenger coming up the trench. As the splosher drew abreast the
+dug-out the officer heard him declaiming to himself: "Baa! baa! I'm a
+blinkin' lamb lorst in the ruddy wilderness. Baa! baa!..."
+
+And when the bleating died away the _splosh--splosh--splosh_ ... grew
+fainter too, as the "lamb" was lost in the night.--_L. W. Martinnant,
+64 Thornsbeach Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+He Coloured
+
+When serving with the Artists' Rifles in France we went into the line
+to relieve the "Nelsons" of the 63rd (Royal Naval) Division.
+
+As I was passing one of their men, a regular "Ole Bill," who was seated
+on the fire-step, I heard him say, "Artists' Rifles, eh; I wonder if
+any of you chaps would _paint_ me a plate of 'am and eggs!"--_R. C.
+Toogood, 43 Richmond Park Avenue, Bournemouth._
+
+
+Why the Fat Man Laughed
+
+During the winter of 1914-15 the trenches were just like canals of
+sloppy mud, and dug-outs were always falling in. To repair the dug-outs
+pit-props were used, but they often had to be carried great distances
+up communication trenches, and were very difficult to handle. The most
+popular way to carry a prop was to rest one end on the left shoulder of
+one man and the other end on the right shoulder of the man behind.
+
+On one occasion the leading man was short and fat, and the rear man was
+tall and thin. Suddenly the front man slipped and the prop fell down
+in the mud and splashed the thin man from head to foot. To add to his
+discomfort the little fat man gave a hearty laugh.
+
+"Can't see anything to larf at, mate," said the mud-splashed hero,
+looking down at himself.
+
+"I'm larfing," said the little fat Cockney, "'cos I've just remembered
+that I tipped the recruiting sergeant a bloomin' tanner to put me name
+down fust on his list so as I'd get out here quick."--_A. L. Churchill
+(late Sergt., Worcs. Regt.), 6 Long Lane, Blackheath, Staffs._
+
+
+He Met Shackleton!
+
+The troops in North Russia, in the winter of 1918-19, were equipped
+with certain additional articles of clothing designed on the same
+principles as those used on Antarctic expeditions. Among these were
+what were known as "Shackleton boots," large canvas boots with thick
+leather soles. These boots were not at all suitable for walking on hard
+snow, being very clumsy, and they were very unpopular with everyone.
+
+The late Sir Ernest Shackleton was sent out by the War Office to give
+advice on matters of clothing, equipment, and so on. When he arrived at
+Archangel he went up to a sentry whose beat was in front of a warehouse
+about three steps up from the road, and said to him, "Well, my man,
+what do you think of the Shackleton boot?"
+
+To this the sentry replied: "If I could only meet the perishing
+blighter wot invented them I'd very soon show----"
+
+Before he could complete the sentence his feet, clad in the ungainly
+boots, slipped on the frozen snow, and slithering down the steps on
+his back, he shot into Sir Ernest and the two of them completed the
+discussion on Shackleton boots rolling over in the snow!--_K. D.,
+Elham, near Canterbury._
+
+
+Domestic Scene: Scene, Béthune
+
+Near the front line at Béthune in I917 was a farm which had been
+evacuated by the tenants, but there were still some cattle and other
+things on it. We were, of course, forbidden to touch them.
+
+One day we missed one of our fellows, a Cockney, for about two hours,
+and guessed he was on the "scrounge" somewhere or other.
+
+[Illustration: "... only taking the kid and the dawg for a bit of a
+blow."]
+
+Eventually he was seen coming down the road pushing an old-fashioned
+pram loaded with cabbages, and round his waist there was a length of
+rope, to the other end of which was tied an old cow.
+
+You can imagine what a comical sight it was, but the climax came when
+he was challenged by the corporal, "Where the devil have you been?"
+"Me?" he replied innocently. "I only bin takin' the kid and the dawg
+for a bit of a blow."--_A. Rush (late 4th Batt. R. Fus.), 27 Milton
+Road, Wimbledon._
+
+
+Getting Their Bearings
+
+It was on the Loos front. One night a party of us were told off for
+reconnoitring. On turning back about six of us, with our young officer,
+missed our way and, after creeping about for some 15 minutes, a
+message came down, "Keep very quiet, we are nearly in the German lines."
+
+I passed on the message to the chap behind me, who answered in anything
+but a whisper, "Thank 'eaven we know where we are at last."--_H. Hutton
+(late 16th Lancers, attached Engineers), Marlborough Road, Upper
+Holloway._
+
+
+High Tea
+
+During the winter of 1917-18 I was serving with my battery of Field
+Artillery in Italy. We had posted to us a draft of drivers just out
+from home, and one of them, seeing an observation balloon for the first
+time, asked an old driver what it was.
+
+"Oh, that," replied the old hand, who hailed from Hackney--"that is
+the Air Force canteen!"--_M. H. Cooke (late "B" Battery, 72nd Brigade,
+R.F.A.), Regency Street, Westminster._
+
+
+Lots in a Name
+
+Salonika, mid-autumn, and torrents of rain. The battalion, changing
+over to another front, had trekked all through the night. An hour
+before dawn a halt was called to bivouac on the reverse slope of a hill
+until the journey could be completed in the darkness of the following
+night.
+
+Orderlies from each platoon were collecting blankets from their company
+pack mules. Last of them all was a diminutive Cockney, who staggered
+off in the darkness with his load perched on his head. Slowly and
+laboriously, slipping backwards at almost every step, he stumbled
+and slithered up hill in the ankle-deep mud. Presently he paused for
+breath, and took advantage of the opportunity to relieve his feelings
+in these well-chosen words: "All I can say is, the bloke as christened
+this 'ere perishin' place Greece was about blinking well right."--_P.
+H. T. (26th Division)._
+
+
+Gunga Din the Second
+
+After the battle of Shaikh Sa'Ad in Mesopotamia in January 1916 more
+than 300 wounded were being transported down the Tigris to Basra in a
+steamer and on open barges lashed on either side of it. Many suffered
+from dysentery as well as wounds--and it was raining.
+
+There appeared to be only one Indian bhisti (water-carrier), an old
+man over 60 years of age, to attend to all. He was nearly demented
+in trying to serve everyone at once. When my severely wounded
+neighbour--from Camberwell, he said--saw the bhisti, his welcome made
+us smile through our miseries.
+
+"Coo! If it ain't old Gunga Din! Wherever 'ave yer bin, me old brown
+son? Does yer muvver know yer aht?"--_A. S. Edwardes (late C.S.M., 1st
+Seaforth Highlanders), West Gate, Royal Hospital, Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+A Fag fer an 'Orse
+
+Late one afternoon towards the end of 1917, on the Cambrai sector,
+enemy counter-attacks had caused confusion behind our lines, and as I
+was walking along a road I met a disconsolate-looking little Cockney
+infantryman leading a large-size horse. He stopped me and said, "Give
+us a fag, mate, and I'll give yer an 'orse."
+
+[Illustration: "Give us a fag and I'll give yer an 'orse."]
+
+I gathered that he had found the horse going spare and was taking it
+along with him for company's sake.--_H. J. Batt (late Royal Fusiliers),
+21 Whitehall Park Road, W.4._
+
+
+Put to Graze
+
+It was at the siege of Kut, when the 13th ("Iron") Division was trying
+to relieve that gallant but hard-pressed body of men under General
+Townshend. Rations had been very low for days, and the battery had been
+digging gun-pits in several positions, till at last we had a change
+of position and "dug in" to stay a bit. What with bad water, digging
+in, and hardly any food, the men were getting fed up generally. An
+order came out to the effect that "A certain bunchy grass (detailed
+explanation) if picked and boiled would make a very nourishing meal."
+One hefty Cockney, "Dusty" Miller, caused a laugh when he vented
+his feelings with "'Struth, and nah we got ter be blinking sheep.
+Baa-Baa!"--_E. J. Bates (late R.F.A.), 37 Ulverscroft Road, E. Dulwich._
+
+
+Smith's Feather Pillow
+
+The boys had "rescued" a few hens from a deserted farm. The morning was
+windy and feathers were scattered in the mud.
+
+Picquet officer (appearing from a corner of the trench): "What's the
+meaning of all these feathers, Brown?"
+
+Brown: "Why, sir, Smiff wrote 'ome sayin' 'e missed 'is 'ome comforts,
+an' 'is ma sent 'im a fevver piller; an' 'e's so mad at our kiddin'
+that 'e's in that dug-out tearin' it to bits."--_John W. Martin, 16
+Eccles Road, Lavender Hill, S.W.11._
+
+
+Bombs and Arithmetic
+
+We were in the trenches in front of Armentières in the late summer of
+1916. It was a fine, quiet day, with "nothing doing." I was convinced
+that a working party was busy in a section of the German trenches right
+opposite.
+
+Just then "O. C. Stokes" came along with his crew and their little
+trench gun. I told him of my "target," and suggested that he should try
+a shot with his Stokes mortar. Glad of something definite to do, he
+willingly complied.
+
+The Stokes gun was set down on the floor of the trench just behind my
+back, as I stood on the fire-step to observe the shoot.
+
+I gave the range. The gun was loaded. There was a faint pop, a slight
+hiss--then silence. Was the bomb going to burst in the gun and blow us
+all to bits? I glanced round apprehensively. A perfectly calm Cockney
+voice from one of the crew reassured me:
+
+"It's orl right, sir! If it don't go off while yer counts five--_you'll
+know it's a dud!_"--_Capt. T. W. C. Curd (late 20th Northumberland
+Fusiliers), 72 Victoria Street, S.W.1._
+
+
+Help from Hindenburg
+
+I was serving with the M.G.C. at Ecoust. Two men of the Middlesex
+Regiment had been busy for a week digging a sump hole in the exposed
+hollow in front of the village and had excavated to a depth of about
+eight feet. A bombardment which had continued all night became so
+severe about noon of the next day that orders were given for all to
+take what cover was available. It was noticed that the two men were
+still calmly at work in the hole, and I was sent to warn them to take
+shelter. They climbed out, and as we ran over the hundred yards which
+separated us from the trench a high explosive shell landed right in
+the hole we had just left, converting it into a huge crater. One of
+the men turned to me and said, "Lumme, mate, if old Hindenburg ain't
+been and gone and finished the blooming job for us!"--_J. S. F.,
+Barnet, Herts._
+
+
+Raised his Voice--And the Dust
+
+In the early part of 1917, while the Germans were falling back to the
+Hindenburg line on the Somme, trench warfare was replaced by advanced
+outposts for the time being. Rations were taken up to the company
+headquarters on mules.
+
+[Illustration: "S'sh. For 'eaven's sake be quiet."]
+
+Another C.Q.M.S. and I were going up with mules one night and lost our
+way. We wandered on until a voice from a shell-hole challenged us.
+_We had passed the company headquarters and landed among the advanced
+outposts._
+
+The chap implored us to be quiet, and just as we turned back one of the
+mules chose to give the Germans a sample of his vocal abilities.
+
+The outpost fellow told us what he thought of us. The transport chap
+leading the mule pulled and tugged, using kind, gentle words as drivers
+do.
+
+And in the midst of it all my C.Q.M.S. friend walked up to the mule,
+holding his hands up, and whispered: "S-sh! For 'eaven's sake be
+quiet."--_F. W. Piper (ex-Sherwood Foresters), 30 The Crescent,
+Watford, Herts._
+
+
+Mademoiselle from--Palestine
+
+After the fall of Gaza our battalion, on occupying a Jewish colony in
+the coastal sector which had just been evacuated by the Turks, received
+a great ovation from the overjoyed inhabitants.
+
+[Illustration: "Mademoiselle from Ah-my-Tears."]
+
+One of our lads, born well within hearing of Bow Bells, was effusively
+greeted by a Hebrew lady of uncertain age, who warmly embraced him and
+kissed him on each cheek.
+
+Freeing himself, and gesticulating in the approved manner, he turned to
+us and said: "Strike me pink! Mademoiselle from Ah-my-tears."--_Edward
+Powell, 80 Cavendish Road, Kentish Town, N.W._
+
+
+"Ally Toot Sweet"
+
+At the latter end of September 1914 the 5th Division was moving
+from the Aisne to La Bassée and a halt was made in the region of
+Crépy-en-Valois, where a large enemy shell was found (dud).
+
+[Illustration: "Ally toot sweet. If this shell goes orf...."]
+
+A Cockney private was posted to keep souvenir hunters from tampering
+with it. When he received his dinner he sat straddle-legged on the
+shell, admired by a few French children, whom he proceeded to address
+as follows: "Ally! Toot sweet, or you'll get blown to 'ell if this
+blinkin' shell goes orf."--_E. P. Ferguson, "Brecon," Fellows Road, S.
+Farnborough, Hants._
+
+
+Luckier than the Prince
+
+In the autumn of 1916, while attending to the loading of ammunition at
+Minden Post, a driver suddenly exclaimed, "'Struth, Quarter; who's the
+boy officer with all the ribbons up?"
+
+Glancing up, I recognised the Prince of Wales, quite unattended,
+pushing a bicycle through the mud.
+
+When I told the driver who the officer really was, the reply came
+quickly: "Blimey, I'm better off than he is; they _have_ given me a
+horse to ride."--_H. J. Adams (ex.--B.Q.M.S., R.F.A.), Highclare,
+Station Road, Hayes, Middlesex._
+
+
+A Jerry he _Couldn't_ Kill
+
+During a patrol in No Man's Land at Flesquières we were between a
+German patrol and their front line, but eventually we were able to get
+back. I went to our Lewis gun post and told them Jerry had a patrol
+out. I was told: "One German came dahn 'ere last night--full marchin'
+order." "Didn't you ask him in?" I said. "No. Told him to get out of
+it. You can't put a Lewis gun on one man going on leave," was the
+reply.--_C. G. Welch, 109 Sayer Street, S.E.17._
+
+
+"Q" for Quinine
+
+In the autumn of 1917, on the Salonika front, we were very often
+short of bread, sugar, etc., the reason, we were told by the
+Quartermaster-Sergeant, being that the boats were continually sunk.
+
+At this time the "quinine parade" was strictly enforced, because of
+malaria, which was very prevalent.
+
+One day we were lined up for our daily dose, which was a very strong
+and unpleasant one, when one of our drivers, a bit of a wag, was heard
+to say to the M.O.: "Blimey! the bread boat goes dahn, the beef boat
+goes dahn, the rum and sugar boat goes dahn, but the perishin' quinine
+boat always gets 'ere."--_R. Ore (100 Brigade, R.F.A.), 40 Lansdowne
+Road, Tottenham, N.17._
+
+
+Blinkin' Descendant of Nebuchadnezzar
+
+While stationed at Pozières in 1917 I was mate to our Cockney cook,
+who, according to Army standards, was something of an expert in the
+culinary art.
+
+One day a brass hat from H.Q., who was visiting the unit, entered the
+mess to inquire about the food served to the troops.
+
+"They 'as stew, roast, or boiled, wiv spuds and pudden to follow," said
+cook, bursting with pride.
+
+"Do you give them any vegetables?" asked the officer.
+
+"No, sir, there ain't none issued in the rations."
+
+"No vegetables! What do you mean?--there are tons growing about here
+waiting to be picked. Look at all those dandelions--they make splendid
+greens. See that some are put in the stew to-morrow." With which
+illuminating information he retired.
+
+Followed a few moments' dead silence. Then the Cockney recovered from
+the shock.
+
+"Lumme, mate, what did 'e say? Dandelions? 'E must be a blinkin'
+descendant of Nebuchadnezzar!"--_R. J. Tiney (late Sapper, R.E.
+Signals, 10th Corps), 327 Green Lanes, Finsbury Park, N._
+
+
+Well-Cut Tailoring
+
+Back from a spell behind Ypres in 1915, a few of us decided to scrounge
+round for a hair-cut. We found a shop which we thought was a barber's,
+but it turned out to be a tailor's. We found out afterwards!
+
+[Illustration: "My old girl will swear I bin in fer a stretch...."]
+
+Still, the old Frenchman made a good job of it--just as though someone
+had shaved our heads. My Cockney pal, when he discovered the truth,
+exclaimed: "Strike, if I go 'ome like this my old girl will swear I bin
+in fer a stretch."--_F. G. Webb (late Corpl., Middlesex Regiment), 38
+Andover Road, Twickenham._
+
+
+Evacuating "Darby and Joan"
+
+Things were going badly with the town of Albert, and all day the
+inhabitants had been streaming from the town. On horse, on foot, and in
+all manner of conveyances they hastened onwards....
+
+Towards evening, when the bombardment was at its height and the roads
+were being plastered with shells, an old man tottered into sight
+pulling a crazy four-wheeled cart in which, perched amidst a pile of
+household goods, sat a tiny, withered lady of considerable age. As the
+couple reached the point where I was standing, the old man's strength
+gave out and he collapsed between the shafts.
+
+It seemed all up with them, as the guns were already registering on the
+only exit from the town when, thundering round a bend in the road, came
+a transport limber with driver and spare man. On seeing the plight of
+the old people, the driver pulled up, dismounted and, together with his
+partner, surveyed the situation.
+
+"What are we going to do with Darby and Joan?" asked the driver. "We
+can't get them and all their clobber in the limber and, if I know 'em,
+they won't be parted from their belongings."
+
+"'Ook 'em on the back," replied the spare man. Sure enough, the old man
+was lifted into the limber and the old lady's four-wheeler tied on the
+back.
+
+Off they went at the gallop, the old lady's conveyance dragging like
+a canoe in the wake of the _Mauretania_. The heroic Cockney driver,
+forcing his team through the din and debris of the bombardment, was
+now oblivious to the wails of distress; his mind was back on his duty;
+he had given the old people a chance of living a little longer--that
+was all he could do: and so he turned a deaf ear to the squeals and
+lamentations that each fresh jolt and swerve wrung from the terrified
+antiquity he was towing.
+
+Shells dropped all around them on their career through the town until
+it seemed that they must "go under." However, they appeared again
+and again, after each cloud cleared, and in the end I saw the little
+cavalcade out of the town and danger.--_N. E. Crawshaw (late 15th
+London Regt.), 4 Mapleton Road, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+"Why ain't the Band Playing?"
+
+I served with the 11th London Regiment in Palestine. One day our
+officer paid us a visit at dinner-time to find out if there were any
+complaints. While we were endeavouring to find the meat at the bottom
+of the spoilt water we heard a voice say: "Any complaints?" One of the
+platoon, not seeing the officer, thought the remark was a joke, so he
+replied, "Yes, why ain't the band playing?" On realising it was an
+official request he immediately corrected himself and said: "Sorry,
+sir, no complaints."
+
+I rather think the officer enjoyed the remark.--_F. G. Palmer, 29
+Dumbarton Road, Brixton, S.W.2._
+
+
+His Deduction
+
+Our battalion, fresh from home, all nicely groomed and with new kit,
+stepped out whistling "Tipperary." We were on the road to Loos.
+Presently towards us came a pathetic procession of wounded men
+struggling back, some using their rifles as crutches.
+
+Our whistling had ceased; some faces had paled. Not a word was spoken
+for quite a while, until my Cockney pal broke the silence, remarking,
+"Lumme, I reckon there's been a bit of a row somewhere."--_Charles
+Phillips (late Middlesex Regt.), 108 Grosvenor Road, Ilford._
+
+
+Peter in the Pool
+
+We had advanced beyond the German first line in the big push of '18.
+The rain was heavy, the mud was deep; we had not quite dug in beyond
+"shallow," and rations had not come up--altogether a most dismal
+prospect.
+
+Quite near to us was a small pool of water which we all attempted to
+avoid when passing to and fro. Suddenly there was a yell and much
+cursing--the Cockney of the company, complete with his equipment, had
+fallen into the pool.
+
+After recovering dry ground he gazed at the pool in disgust and said,
+"Fancy a fing like that trying to drahn a bloke wiv a name like
+Peter."--_J. Carlton, Bayswater Court, St. Stephen's Court, W.2._
+
+
+Where "Movie" Shows Cost Soap
+
+We landed in North Russia in June 1918. We were piloted in on the _City
+of Marseilles_ to a jetty. We did not know the name of the place. On
+the jetty we saw from the boat a British marine on sentry duty. We
+shouted down to him, "Where are we, mate?" He answered "Murmansk."
+
+We asked, "What sort of place," and he shouted, "Lumme, you've come to
+a blighted 'ole 'ere. They 'ave one picture palace and the price of
+admission is a bar of soap."--_M. C. Oliver (late Corporal R.A.F.), 99,
+Lealand Road, Stamford Hill, N.16._
+
+
+Sherlock Holmes in the Desert
+
+In the autumn of 1917, when training for the attack on Beersheba, in
+Palestine, we were encamped in bivouacs in the desert.
+
+The chief meal of the day was served in the cool of the evening and
+more often than not consisted of bully beef stew.
+
+One evening the Orderly Officer approached the dixie, looked into it,
+and seeing it half full of the usual concoction, remarked, "H'm, stew
+this evening."
+
+At once there came a voice, that of a Cockney tailor, from the nearest
+bivouac--"My dear Watson!"--_R. S. H. (late 16th County of London
+Q.W.R.), Purley, Surrey._
+
+
+The Army "Loops the Loop"
+
+The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was very bad, and if you went too
+close to the edge you were likely to go over the precipice; indeed,
+many lives were lost in this way.
+
+[Illustration: "I'll bet I'm the first bloke to loop the loop in a
+lorry."]
+
+One day a lorry toppled over and fell at least a hundred feet. When the
+rescuers got down to it, expecting to find a mangled corpse, they were
+surprised to hear a well-known Cockney voice from under the debris,
+exclaiming: "Blimey, I'll bet I'm the first bloke in the whole Army
+wot's looped the loop in a motor-lorry."--_Sidney H. Rothschild, York
+Buildings, Adelphi, W.C.2._
+
+
+Repartee on the Ridge
+
+While on the Vimy Ridge sector I was going one dark night across the
+valley towards the front line when I lost my way among the mud and
+shell-holes. Hearing voices, I shouted an inquiry as to the whereabouts
+of Gabriel Trench. Back came the reply: "Lummie, mate, I ain't the
+blinkin' harbourmaster!"--_T. Gillespie (late Mining Company, R.E.),
+London._
+
+
+A New Kind of "Missing"
+
+A battalion of the 47th London Division was making its first journey to
+the front line at Givenchy.
+
+As we were proceeding from Béthune by the La Bassée Canal we passed
+another crowd of the same Division who had just been relieved. We
+were naturally anxious to know what it was like "up there," and the
+following conversation took place in passing:
+
+"What's it like, mate?"
+
+"All right."
+
+"Had any casualties?"
+
+"Yes, mate, two wounded, and a bloke lost 'is 'at."--_F. G. Nawton,
+(ex-Major 15th Batt. M.G.C., 2 Kenton Park Road, Kenton, Middlesex)._
+
+
+And it Started with a Hen Raid!
+
+While we were behind the line in March 1918 some chickens were stolen
+from the next village and traced to our billet by the feathers.
+
+As the culprits could not be found our O.C. punished the whole company
+by stopping our leave for six months.
+
+A few days later we "moved up" just as Jerry broke through further
+south. The orderly sergeant one night read out orders, which finished
+up with Sir Douglas Haig's famous dispatch ending with the words:
+"All leave is now stopped throughout the Army till further orders."
+Thereupon a tousled head emerged from a blanket on the floor with this
+remark: "Blimey, they mean to find out who pinched those blinking
+chickens."--_J. Slack, 157 Engadine Street, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+"I'm a Water-Lily"
+
+This incident took place on the Neuve Chapelle front early in 1916.
+
+Our platoon was known as the "Divisional Drainers," for it was our job
+to keep the trenches as free from water as possible.
+
+One day, while we were working in a very exposed drain about three feet
+deep, Jerry was unusually active with his whizz-bangs, and we were
+repeatedly shelled off the job. During one of our periodical "dives"
+for cover, one of the boys (a native of Canning Town) happened to be
+"left at the post," and instead of gaining a dry shelter was forced to
+fling himself in the bottom of the drain, which had over two feet of
+weedy water in it.
+
+Just as he reappeared, with weeds and things clinging to his head and
+shoulders, an officer came to see if we were all safe.
+
+On seeing our weed-covered chum he stopped and said, "What's the
+matter, Johnson? Got the wind up?"
+
+Johnson, quick as lightning, replied, "No, sir; camouflage. I'm a
+water-lily."--_F. Falcuss (late 19th Batt. N.F.), 51, Croydon Grove,
+West Croydon._
+
+
+Not Knowin' the Language
+
+A team of mules in November 1916 was taking a double limber up to the
+line in pitch darkness on the Béthune-La Bassée road. A heavy strafe
+was on, and the road was heavily shelled at intervals from Beavry
+onwards.
+
+On the limber was a newly-joined padre huddled up, on his way to join
+advanced battalion headquarters. A shell burst 60 yards ahead, and the
+mules reared; some lay down, kicked over the traces, and the wheel pair
+managed to get their legs over the centre pole of the limber.
+
+[Illustration: "Would you mind trekkin' off up the road?"]
+
+There was chaos for a few minutes. Then the padre asked the wheel
+driver in a very small voice, "My man, can I do anything to assist you?"
+
+"Assist us," was the reply. "Yes, you can. Would you mind, sir,
+trekkin' off up the road, so as we can use language these blighters
+understand?"--_L. C. Hoffenden (late 483rd Field Co. R.E.),
+"Waltonhurst," 16 Elmgate Gardens, Edgware._
+
+
+Churning in the Skies
+
+After returning from a night's "egg-laying" on Jerry's transport lines
+and dumps, my brother "intrepid airman" and I decided on tea and toast.
+To melt a tin of ration butter which was of the consistency of glue
+we placed it close to the still hot engine of the plane. Unknown to
+us, owing to the slant of the machine, the tin slipped backwards and
+spilled a goodly proportion of its melted contents over the propeller
+at the back. (Our planes were of the "pusher" type.)
+
+Next day as we strolled into the hangar to look the bus over we found
+our Cockney mechanic, hands on hips, staring at the butter-splattered
+propeller.
+
+"Sufferin' smoke, sir," he said to me, with a twinkle, "wherever was
+you flyin' lars' night--_through the milky way_?"--_Ralph Plummer (late
+102 Squadron R.A.F. Night-Bombers), Granville House, Arundel Street,
+Strand._
+
+
+Larnin' the Mule
+
+[Illustration: "Now p'raps you'll know!"]
+
+On the Somme I saw a Cockney driver having trouble with an obstinate
+mule. At last he got down from his limber and, with a rather vicious
+tug at the near-side rein said, "That's your left," and, tugging the
+off rein, "that's your right--now p'raps you'll know!"--_E. B. (late
+Gunner, R.G.A.), Holloway Road, N.7._
+
+
+"Dr. Livingstone, I Presoom"
+
+Early in 1915 one of our Q.M. Sergeants was sent to Cairo to collect
+a gang of native labourers for work in the brigade lines. Whilst at
+breakfast one morning we saw him return from the train at Ismailia,
+leading a long column of fellaheen (with their wives and children) all
+loaded with huge bundles, boxes, cooking pots, etc., on their heads.
+
+The Q.M.S., who was wearing a big white "solar topi" of the mushroom
+type instead of his regulation military helmet, was greeted outside our
+hut by the R.S.M., and as they solemnly shook hands a Cockney voice
+behind me murmured: "Doctor Livingstone, I presoom?" The picture was
+complete!--_Yeo Blake (1st County of London Yeomanry), Brighton._
+
+
+The Veteran Scored
+
+One morning, while a famous general was travelling around the
+Divisional Headquarters, his eagle eye spotted an old war hero, a
+Londoner, whose fighting days were over, and who now belonged to the
+Labour Corps, busy on road repairs. The fact was also noticed that
+although within the gas danger-zone the old veteran had broken standing
+orders by not working with his gas mask in position.
+
+Accordingly the Corps Commander stopped his car and, getting out,
+started off in his own familiar way as follows:
+
+C. C.: Good morning, my man; do you know who is speaking to you?
+
+O. V.: No, sir!
+
+C. C.: I am your Corps Commander, Sir ----, etc.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I'm pleased to have this opportunity of talking to one of my men.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I see you are putting your back into your work.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I also notice that you have evidently left your gas mask behind.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: Now supposing, my man, a heavy gas cloud was now coming down
+this road towards you. What would you do?
+
+O. V. (after a few moments' pause): Nothing, sir.
+
+C. C.: What! Why not, my good man?
+
+O. V.: Because the wind is the wrong way, sir.
+
+Exit C. C.--_T. J. Gough, Oxford House, 13 Dorset Square, N.W.1._
+
+
+Old Moore Was Right
+
+One of my drivers, a Cockney, called one of his horses Old Moore--"'cos
+'e knows every blinkin' fing like _Old Moore's Almanac_."
+
+One evening, as we were going into the line, we were halted by a staff
+officer and warned of gas. Orders were given at once to wear gas
+helmets. (A nose-bag gas-mask had just been issued for horses.)
+
+After a while I made my way to the rear of the column to see how things
+were. I was puffing and gasping for breath, when a cheery voice called
+out, "Stick it, sargint."
+
+Wondering how any man could be so cheery in such circumstances, I
+lifted my gas helmet, and lo! there sat my Cockney driver, with his
+horses' masks slung over his arm and his own on top of his head like a
+cap-comforter.
+
+"Why aren't you wearing your gas helmet?" I asked.
+
+He leaned over the saddle and replied, in a confidential whisper, "Old
+Moore chucked his orf, so there ain't no blinkin' gas abaht--_'e_
+knows."
+
+We finished the rest of that journey in comfort. Old Moore had
+prophesied correctly.--_S. Harvey (late R.F.A.), 28 Belmont Park Road,
+Leyton, E.10_.
+
+
+He Wouldn't Insult the Mule
+
+One day, while our Field Ambulance was on the Dorian front, Salonika,
+our new colonel and the regimental sergeant-major were visiting the
+transport lines. They came across a Cockney assiduously grooming a pair
+of mules--rogues, both of them.
+
+[Illustration: "... because I didn't want to hurt his feelings."]
+
+Said the R.S.M.: "Well, Brown, what are the names of your mules?"
+
+Brown: "Well, that one is Ananias, because his looks are all lies. This
+one is Satan, but I nearly called him something else. It was a toss-up."
+
+With a smile at the C.O., the sergeant-major remarked: "I would like to
+know what the other name was. Tell the colonel, what was it?"
+
+Brown: "Well, I was going to call him 'Sergeant-Major,' but I didn't
+want to hurt his feelings."--_"Commo" (ex-Sergeant, R.A.M.C.), London,
+N.1_.
+
+
+"Don't Touch 'em, Sonny!"
+
+We had just come back from Passchendaele, that land of two options--you
+could walk on the duck boards and get blown off or you could step off
+them yourself and get drowned in the shell-holes.
+
+A draft from home had made us up to strength, and when Fritz treated
+us to an air raid about eight miles behind the line I am afraid he was
+almost ignored. Anyway, our Cockney sergeant was voicing the opinion
+that it wasn't a bad war when up rushed one recruit holding the chin
+strap of his tin hat and panting, "Aero--aero--aeroplanes." The
+sergeant looked at him for a second and said, "All right, sonny, don't
+touch 'em."
+
+A flush came to the youngster's face, and he walked away--a
+soldier.--_R. C. Ida, D.C.M. (late 2nd Royal Berks), 39 Hoylake Road,
+East Acton, W.3._
+
+
+"Ze English--Zey are all Mad!"
+
+Early in 1915 an Anti-Aircraft Brigade landed at Dunkirk. Their guns
+were mounted in armoured cars, the drivers for which were largely
+recruited from London busmen.
+
+By arrangement with the French staff it was decided that the password
+to enable the drivers to pass the French lines should be the French
+word _aviation_.
+
+The men were paraded and made to repeat this word, parrot fashion, with
+orders to be careful to use it, as it was said that French sentries had
+a nasty habit of shooting first and making any inquiries afterwards.
+
+About a month later I asked my lorry driver how he got on with the
+word. "Quite easy, sir," said he. "I leans aht over the dash and yells
+aht 'ave a ration,' and the Frenchies all larfs and lets me by."
+
+A bit worried about this I interviewed the French Staff Officer and
+asked him if the men were giving the word satisfactorily.
+
+"Oh," he said, "zose men of yours, zey are comique. Your man, he
+says somezing about his dinner, and ze ozzers zey say 'Ullo, Charlie
+Chaplin,' and 'Wotcher, froggy'--all sorts of pass-words."
+
+I apologised profusely. "I will get fresh orders issued," I said, "to
+ensure that the men say the correct word."
+
+"No," replied the French officer, "it ees no use. We know your men now.
+Ze English will never alter--_zey are all mad_."--_G. H. Littleton
+(Lieut.-Col.), 10 Russell Square Mansions, Southampton Row, W.C.1._
+
+
+Mixed History
+
+The Scene: Qurnah, Mesopotamia.
+
+Cockney Tommy--obviously an old Sunday school boy--fed up with Arabs,
+Turks, boils, scorpions, flies, thirst, and dust: "Well, if this is the
+Garden of Eden, no wonder the Twelve Apostles 'opped it!"--_G. T. C.,
+Hendon, N.W.4._
+
+
+Got His Goat!
+
+We, a Field Company of the R.E.'s in France, were on the move to a new
+sector, and amongst our "properties" was a mobile "dairy"--a goat.
+
+"Nanny" travelled on top of a trestle-wagon containing bridging gear,
+with a short rope attached to her collar to confine her activities. But
+a "pot-hole" in the narrow road supplied a lurch that dislodged her,
+with the result that she slid overboard, and the shortness of the rope
+prevented her from reaching the ground.
+
+[Illustration: "Nanny, you'll hang next time!"]
+
+The driver of the wagon behind saw her predicament, and, dismounting,
+ran to her assistance, shouting for the column to halt. Then he took
+Nanny in his arms to relieve the weight on her neck, whilst others
+clambered aboard and released the rope.
+
+Nanny was then put on her legs while her rescuer stood immediately in
+front, watching her recover.
+
+This she speedily did, and, raising her head for a moment, apparently
+discerned the cause of her discomfiture peering at her. At any rate,
+lowering her head, she sprang and caught Bermondsey Bill amidships,
+sending him backwards into a slimy ditch at the side of the road.
+
+As he lay there amidst the undergrowth he yelled, "Strike me pink,
+Nanny! You'll hang next time."--_E. Martin, 78 Chelverton Road, Putney,
+S.W.15._
+
+
+A Difficult Top Note
+
+Somewhere in Palestine the band of a famous London division had been
+called together for very much overdue practice. The overture "Poet and
+Peasant" called for a French horn solo ending on a difficult top note.
+
+After the soloist had made many attempts to get this note the
+bandmaster lost his temper and gave the player a piece of his mind.
+
+Looking at the battered instrument, which had been in France,
+the Balkans, and was now in the Wilderness, and was patched with
+sticking-plaster and soap, the soloist, who hailed from Mile End,
+replied: "Here, if you can do it better you have a go. I don't mind
+trying it on an _instrument_, but I'm darned if I can play it on a
+cullender."--_D. Beland, 17 Ridgdale Street, London, E.3._
+
+[Illustration: "... but I'm darned if I can play it on a cullender."]
+
+
+Home by Underground
+
+A cold, wet night in France. My company was making its way up a
+communication trench on the right of the Arras-Cambrin road. It was in
+some places waist deep in mud. I was in front next to my officer when
+the word was passed down that one of the men had fallen into the mud
+and could not be found. The officer sent me back to find out what had
+happened.
+
+On reaching the spot I found that the man had fallen into the mouth of
+a very deep dug-out which had not been used for some time.
+
+Peering into the blackness, I called out, "Where are you?"
+
+Back came the reply: "You get on wiv the blinkin' war. I've fahnd the
+Channel Tunnel and am going 'ome."
+
+I may say it took us six hours to get him out.--_H. F. B. (late 7th
+Batt. Middlesex Regt.), London, N.W.2._
+
+
+A Job for Samson
+
+During Allenby's big push in Palestine the men were on a forced night
+march, and were tired out and fed up. An officer was trying to buck
+some of them up by talking of the British successes in France and also
+of the places of interest they would see farther up in Palestine.
+
+He was telling them that they were now crossing the Plains of Hebron
+where Samson carried the gates of Gaza, when a deep Cockney voice rang
+out from the ranks, "What a pity that bloke ain't 'ere to carry this
+pack of mine!"--_C. W. Blowers, 25 Little Roke Avenue, Kenley, Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry Wins a Bet
+
+In the Salient, 1916: Alf, who owned a Crown and Anchor board of great
+antiquity, had it spread out on two petrol cans at the bottom of a
+shell-hole.
+
+Around it four of us squatted and began to deposit thereon our dirty
+half and one franc notes, with occasional coins of lesser value. The
+constant whistle of passing fragments was punctuated by the voice
+of Alf calling upon the company to "'ave a bit on the 'eart" or
+alternately "to 'ave a dig in the grave" when a spent bullet crashed
+on his tin hat and fell with a thud into the crown square. "'Struth,"
+gasped Alf, "old squarehead wants to back the sergeant-major." He
+gave a final shake to the cup and exposed the dice--one heart and two
+crowns. "Blimey," exclaimed Alf, "would yer blinkin' well believe it?
+Jerry's backed a winner. 'Arf a mo," and picking up the spent bullet
+he threw it with all his might towards the German lines, exclaiming,
+"'Ere's yer blinking bet back, Jerry, and 'ere's yer winnings."
+He cautiously fired two rounds.--_G. S. Raby (ex-2nd K.R.R.C.),
+Shoeburyness, Essex._
+
+
+Lucky he was Born British
+
+Many ex-soldiers must remember the famous Major Campbell, who
+(supported by the late Jimmy Driscoll), toured behind the lines in
+France giving realistic demonstrations of bayonet fighting.
+
+I was a spectator on one occasion when the Major was demonstrating
+"defence with the naked hands." "Now," he shouted as Jimmy Driscoll
+(who acted the German) rushed upon him with rifle and bayonet pointed
+for a thrust, "I side-step" (grasping his rifle at butt and upper band
+simultaneously); "I twist it to the horizontal and fetch my knee up
+into the pit of his stomach, so! And then, as his head comes down, I
+release my right hand, point my fore and third fingers, so! and stab at
+his eyes."
+
+"Lor'!" gasped a little Cockney platoon chum squatting beside me, "did
+yer see that lot? Wot a nice kind of bloke he is! Wot a blinkin' stroke
+of luck he was born on our side!"--_S. J. Wilson (late 1/20th County
+London Regt.), 27 Cressingham Road, Lewisham._
+
+
+You Never Can Tell
+
+Scene: Turk trench, Somme, on a cold, soaking night in November,
+1916. A working party, complete with rifles, picks, and spades, which
+continually became entangled in the cats' cradle of miscellaneous R.E.
+wire, is making terribly slow progress over irregular trench-boards
+hidden under mud and water. Brisk strafing ahead promising trouble.
+
+Impatient officer (up on the parapet): "For heaven's sake, you lads,
+get a move on! You're not going to a funeral!"
+
+Cockney voice (from bottom of trench): "'Ow the dooce does _'e_
+know!"--_W. Ridsdale, 41 Manor Road, Beckenham, Kent._
+
+
+The Window Gazer
+
+In the early part of 1915, when the box periscope was in great use in
+the trenches, we received a draft of young recruits. One lad, of a
+rather inquisitive nature, was always looking in the glass trying to
+find Jerry's whereabouts.
+
+An old Cockney, passing up and down, had seen this lad peeping in the
+glass. At last he stopped and addressed the lad as follows:
+
+"You've been a-looking in that bloomin' winder all the die, an' nah yer
+ain't bought nuffink."--_E. R. Gibson (late Middlesex Regt.), 42 Maldon
+Road, Edmonton, N.9._
+
+
+"I Don't Fink"
+
+After we landed in France our officer gave us a lecture and told us
+that our best pal in this world was our rifle. He warned us that on no
+account must we part with it. A couple of nights later Gunner Brown,
+a Cockney, was on guard. When the visiting officer approached him and
+said, "Your rifle is dirty, gunner," he replied, "I don't fink so
+sir, 'cos I cleaned it." "Give it to me," said the officer sternly,
+which Brown did. Then the officer said, "You fool, if I were an enemy
+in English uniform I could shoot you." To which Brown replied, "I
+don't fink you could, sir, 'cos I've got the blinkin' bolt in my
+pocket."--_E. W. Houser (late 41st Division, R.F.A.) 22 Hamlet Road,
+Southend._
+
+
+Why the Attack _Must_ Fail
+
+November 1918. The next day we were to move up in readiness for the
+great advance of the 3rd Army.
+
+Some of us were trying to sleep in a cellar when the silence was broken
+by a small voice: "I'm sure this attack will go wrong, you chaps! I
+feel it in my bones!"
+
+It can be imagined how this cheerful remark was received, but when the
+abuse had died down, the same voice was heard again: "Yes, I knows
+it. Some blighter will step orf wi' the wrong foot and we'll all
+'ave to come back and start again!"--_"D" Coy., M.G.C. (24th Batt.),
+Westcliff._
+
+
+The "Shovers"
+
+During the retreat of 1918 I was standing with my company on the side
+of the road by Outersteene Farm, outside Bailleul, when three very
+small and youthful German Tommies with helmets four sizes too large
+passed on their way down the line as prisoners for interrogation. As
+they reached us I heard one of my men say to another: "Luv us, 'Arry,
+look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"--_L. H. B., Beckenham._
+
+[Illustration: "Luv us, 'Arry; look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"]
+
+
+Rehearsal--Without the Villain
+
+A small party with a subaltern were withdrawn from the line to rehearse
+a raid on the German line. A replica of the German trenches had been
+made from aircraft photographs, and these, with our own trench and
+intervening wire, were faithfully reproduced, even to shell-holes.
+
+The rehearsal went off wonderfully. The wire was cut, the German
+trenches were entered, and dummy bombs thrown down the dug-outs.
+
+Back we came to our own trenches. "Everything was done excellently,
+men," said the subaltern, "but I should like to be sure that every
+difficulty has been allowed for. Can any man think of any point which
+we have overlooked?"
+
+"Yus," came the terse reply--"Jerry."--_Edward Nolan (15th London
+Regt.), 41 Dalmeny Avenue, S.W.16._
+
+
+Poetry Before the Push
+
+During February and March 1918 the 1/13th Battalion London Regiment
+(the Kensingtons), who were at Vimy Ridge, had been standing-to in the
+mornings for much longer than the regulation hour because of the coming
+big German attack. One company commander--a very cheery officer--was
+tired of the general "wind up" and determined to pull the legs of the
+officers at Battalion H.Q. It was his duty to send in situation reports
+several times a day. To vary things he wrote a situation report in
+verse, sent it over the wire to B.H.Q., where, of course, it was taken
+down in prose and read with complete consternation by the C.O. and
+adjutant!
+
+It showed the gay spirit which meant so much in the front line at a
+time when everyone's nerves were on edge. It was written less than two
+days before the German offensive of March 21. Here are the verses:
+
+    (_C Company Situation Report 19/3/18_)
+
+    There is nothing I can tell you
+      That you really do not know--
+    Except that we are on the Ridge
+      And Fritz is down below.
+
+    I'm tired of "situations"
+      And of "wind" entirely "vane."
+    The gas-guard yawns and tells me
+      "It's blowing up for rain."
+
+    He's a human little fellow.
+      With a thoughtful point of view,
+    And his report (uncensored)
+      I pass, please, on to you.
+
+    "When's old Fritzie coming over?
+      Does the General really know?
+    The Colonel seems to think so,
+      The Captain tells us 'No.'
+
+    "When's someone going to tell us
+      We can 'Stand-to' as before?
+    An hour at dawn and one at dusk,
+      Lor' blimey, who wants more?"
+
+The word "vane" in the second verse refers, of course, to the
+weather-vane used in the trenches to indicate whether the wind was
+favourable or not for a gas attack.--_Frederick Heath (Major), 1/13th
+Batt. London Regt. (Kensingtons)._
+
+
+'Erb's Consolation Prize
+
+A narrow communication trench leading up to the front line; rain, mud,
+shells, and everything else to make life hideous.
+
+Enter the ration party, each man carrying something bulky besides his
+rifle and kit.
+
+One of the party, a Londoner known as 'Erb, is struggling with a huge
+mail-bag, bumping and slipping and sliding, moaning and swearing,
+when a voice from under a sack of bread pipes: "Never mind, 'Erb;
+perhaps there's a postcard in it for you!"--_L. G. Austin (24th London
+Regiment), 8 Almeida Street, Upper Street, Islington, N.1._
+
+[Illustration: "Never mind, 'Erb, perhaps there's a postcard in it for
+you!"]
+
+
+Rum for Sore Feet
+
+Whilst doing duty as acting Q.M.S. I was awakened one night by a loud
+banging on the door of the shack which was used as the stores. Without
+getting up I asked the reason for the noise, and was told that a pair
+of boots I had issued that day were odd--one was smaller than the
+other. The wearer was on stable piquet, and could hardly walk.
+
+I told him he would have to put up with it till the morning--I wasn't
+up all night changing boots, and no doubt I should have a few words to
+say when I did see him!
+
+"Orl right, Quarter," came the reply, "I'm sorry I woke yer--but could
+yer give us a tot of rum to stop the pain?"--_P. K. (late 183rd Batt.
+41st Div. R.F.A.), Kilburn, N.W.6._
+
+
+Two Guineas' Worth
+
+In France during November 1914 I received an abrupt reminder that
+soldiering with the Honourable Artillery Company entails an annual
+subscription.
+
+The battalion had marched out during the night to a small village named
+Croix Barbée to carry out some operation, and returned at daybreak to
+its "lodging" near La Couture, another village some four or five miles
+away.
+
+Being a signaller, I had the doubtful privilege of owning a bicycle,
+which had to be pushed or carried every inch of the way. On the march
+back the mud was so bad that it was impossible for me to keep up with
+the battalion, owing to the necessity every quarter of a mile or so of
+cleaning out the mudguards.
+
+I was plodding along all by myself in the early hours of daylight, very
+tired of the bike and everything else, and I approached an old soldier
+of the Middlesex Regiment sitting by the roadside recovering slowly
+from the strain of the fatiguing night march.
+
+He looked at me and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Well, mate, 'ad
+yer two guineas wurf yet?"--_J. H. May, Ravenswood, Ashford, Middlesex._
+
+
+The Four-footed Spy
+
+Whilst we were at Arras a horse was found entangled in some barbed
+wire, having presumably strayed from the German lines. He was captured
+by a rifleman and brought back to the horse lines to be used by the
+transport driver.
+
+A Cockney groom was detailed to look after him. The two never seemed to
+agree, for the groom was always being bitten or kicked by "Jerry."
+
+One morning the picket discovered that "Jerry" was missing, and
+concluded that he must have broken away during the night. The matter
+was reported to the sergeant, who went and routed out the groom. "What
+about it? Ain't you goin' to look for 'im?" said the sergeant.
+
+"Not me, sarge! I always said the blighter was a blinkin' spy!" replied
+the groom.--_J. Musgrave (late 175th Infantry Brigade), 52 Cedar Grove,
+South Ealing, W.5._
+
+
+Not Every Dog has his Night
+
+Our battalion arrived in a French village late on the night of
+September 25, 1915, after marching all day in pouring rain. To add to
+our troubles no billets were available (the place was teeming with
+reserve troops for the attack at Loos).
+
+We were told to find some sort of shelter from the rain and get a good
+night's rest, as we were to move up to the attack on the morrow.
+
+My chum, a Londoner, and I scouted round. I found room for one in an
+already overcrowded stable; my chum continued the search. He returned
+in a few minutes to tell me he had found a spot. I wished him good
+night and went to sleep.
+
+In the morning, when I came out of the stable, I saw the long legs of
+a Guardsman (who proved to be my chum) protruding from a dog kennel.
+Beside them sat a very fed-up dog!--_F. Martin (late 1st Batt. Scots
+Guards), 91 Mostyn Road, Brixton, S.W._
+
+[Illustration: "...A very fed-up dog."]
+
+
+The Brigadier's Glass Eye
+
+A brigadier of the 54th Infantry Brigade (18th Division), who had a
+glass-eye, and his Cockney runner, were on their way up the line when
+they observed a dead German officer who had a very prominent gold tooth.
+
+The next day, passing by the same spot, the Brigadier noticed that the
+gold tooth was missing.
+
+"I see that his gold tooth has gone, Johnson," he said.
+
+"Yessir."
+
+"I suppose someone will take my glass eye, if I am knocked out."
+
+"Yessir. I've put meself dahn fer that, fer a souvenir!"--_W. T.
+Pearce, "Southernhay," Bethune Avenue, Friern Barnet, N.11._
+
+
+The Chaplain-General's Story
+
+In June 1917 I shared a G.H.Q. car with the Chaplain-General to the
+Forces, Bishop Gwynne, who was on his way from St. Omer to Amiens,
+whilst I was on my way to the Third Army School at Auxi-le-Château.
+
+During the journey our conversation turned to chaplains, and the bishop
+asked me whether I thought the chaplains then coming to France were of
+the right type, especially from the point of view of the regimental
+officers and men. My reply was that the chaplains as a whole differed
+very little from any other body of men in France: they were either men
+of the world and very human, and so got on splendidly with the troops,
+or else they were neither the one nor the other, cut very little ice,
+and found their task a very difficult one.
+
+The Bishop then told me the following story, which he described as
+perfectly true:
+
+    "A chaplain attached to a London regiment made a practice
+    of always living in the front line whenever the battalion
+    went in to the trenches rather than remaining with Battalion
+    Headquarters some way back, and he had his own dug-out over
+    which appeared the words 'The Vicarage.'
+
+    "One day a young Cockney in the line for the first time was
+    walking along the trench with an older soldier, and turning a
+    corner suddenly came on 'The Vicarage.'
+
+    "'Gorblimey, Bill!' he said, 'who'd 'ave fought of seein' the
+    b---- vicarage in the front line?'"
+
+    "Immediately the cheery face of the padre popped out from
+    behind the blanket covering the entrance and a voice in reply
+    said: 'Yes! And who'd have thought of seeing the b---- vicar
+    too?'"
+
+"That's the kind of chaplain," said the Bishop, "I'm trying to get them
+to send out to France."--_(Brig.-Gen.) R. J. Kentish, C.M.G., D.S.O.,
+Shalford Park, Guildford._
+
+
+A Thirst Worth Saving
+
+During the summer of 1917 our battalion--the 1/5th Buffs--formed part
+of General Thompson's flying column operating between the Tigris and
+the Shatt Al-'Adhaim.
+
+One morning we discovered that the native camel drivers had deserted to
+the enemy's lines, taking with them the camels that were carrying our
+water.
+
+No man had more than a small cup of water in his bottle yet we waited
+orders until dawn the next day, when a 'plane dropped a message for us
+to return to the Tigris.
+
+I shall not dwell on that 20-mile march back to the river over the
+burning sand--I cannot remember the last few miles of it myself. None
+of us could speak. Our lips and tongues were bursting.
+
+When we reached the Tigris we drank and drank again--then lay exhausted.
+
+The first man I heard speak was "Busty" Johnson, who, with great effort
+hoarsely muttered: "Lumme, if I can only keep this blinkin' first till
+I goes on furlough!"--_J. W. Harvey (late 1/5th Buffs, M.E.F.), 25
+Queen's Avenue, Greenford Park, Middlesex._
+
+
+Points of View
+
+On a wet and cold winter's night in the hills south of Nablus
+(Palestine) a sentry heard sounds as of slipping feet and strange
+guttural noises from the direction of the front line. He waited with
+his rifle at the port and then challenged: "Halt! who goes there?"
+
+A thin, dismal voice came from the darkness. "A pore miserable blighter
+with five ruddy camels."
+
+"Pass, miserable blighter, all's well," replied the sentry.
+
+Into the sentry's view came a rain-soaked disconsolate-looking Tommy
+"towing" five huge ration camels.
+
+"All's well, is it? Coo! Not 'arf!" said he.--_W. E. Bickmore (late "C"
+303 Brigade, R.F.A., 60th Div.), 121 Gouville Road, Thornton Heath,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Not the British Museum
+
+The Labyrinth Sector.
+
+Three of us--signallers--having just come off duty in the front line,
+were preparing to put in a few hours' sleep, when a voice came floating
+down the dug-out steps: "Is Corporal Stone down there?"
+
+Chorus: "No!"
+
+Ten minutes later came the same voice: "Is Sergeant Fossell down there?"
+
+"Go away," replied our Cockney; "this ain't the blinkin' British
+Museum!"--_G. J. Morrison (late 14th London Regt.), "Alness," Colborne
+Way, Worcester Park, Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry Would Not Smile
+
+I met him coming from the front line, one of "London's Own." He was
+taking back the most miserable and sullen-looking prisoner I have ever
+seen.
+
+"Got a light, Jock?" he asked me. I obliged. "'Ave a Ruby Queen,
+matey?" I accepted.
+
+"Cheerful-looking customer you've got there, Fusie," I ventured,
+pointing to his prisoner.
+
+[Illustration: "... and if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's
+'opeless."]
+
+He looked up in disgust. "Cheerful? Lummie, he gives me the creeps.
+I've orfered 'im a fag, and played 'Katie' and 'When this luvly war is
+over' on me old mouf orgin for him, but not a bloomin' smile. An' I've
+shown him me souvenirs and a photograph of me old woman, and, blimey,
+if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's 'opeless!"
+
+And then, with a cheery "Mercy bokoo, matey," and a "Come on, 'Appy,"
+to his charge, he pushed on.--_Charles Sumner (late London Scottish),
+Butler's Cottage, Sutton Lane, Heston, Middlesex._
+
+
+"Birdie" Had to Smile
+
+While I was serving with the Australians at Gallipoli in 1915 I was
+detailed to take charge of a fatigue party to carry water from the
+beach to the front line, a distance of about a mile.
+
+Our way lay over rather dangerous and extremely hilly country. The
+weather was very hot. Each man in the party had to carry four petrol
+tins of water.
+
+While trudging along a narrow communication trench we were confronted
+by General Birdwood and his A.D.C. As was the general's cheery way, he
+stopped, and to the man in front (one "Stumpy" Stewart, a Cockney who
+had been in Australia for some time) he remarked, "Well, my man, how do
+you like this place?"
+
+"Stumpy" shot a quick glance at the general and then blurted out,
+"Well, sir, 't'aint the sort of plice you'd bring your Jane to, is it?"
+
+I can see "Birdie's" smile now.--_C. Barrett (Lieut., Aust. Flying
+Corps, then 6th Aust. Light Horse), Charing Cross, W.C._
+
+
+Their Very Own Secret
+
+We were on a forced march to a sector on Vimy Ridge. It was a wicked
+night--rain and thick fog--and during a halt several of our men got
+lost. I was ordered to round them up, but I also got hopelessly lost.
+
+I had been wandering about for some time when I came across one of our
+men--a young fellow from the Borough. We had both lost direction and
+could do nothing but wait.
+
+At last dawn broke and the fog lifted. We had not the slightest idea
+where we were, so I told my friend to reconnoitre a hill on the right
+and report to me if he saw anyone moving, while I did the same on the
+left.
+
+After a while I heard a cautious shout, and my companion came running
+towards me, breathless with excitement, and in great delight gasped,
+"Sergeant, sergeant! Germans! Germans! Fousands of 'em--and there's
+nobody but you and me knows anyfing abaht it!"--_G. Lidsell (late Devon
+Regt.), Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+Window Cleaners Coming!
+
+We were passing through Ypres, in 1915, in a Wolseley Signals tender
+when we came upon a battalion of the Middlesex on their way out to
+rest, very tired and very dirty.
+
+Our cable cart ladders, strapped to the sides of the lorry, caught the
+eyes of one wag. "Blimey, boys," he cried, "we're orl right nah; 'ere
+comes the blinkin' winder-cleaners."--_"Sigs.," Haslemere, Surrey._
+
+
+First Blow
+
+It was outside Albert, during the Somme attack, that I met a lone
+Army Service Corps wagon, laden with supplies. One of the horses was
+jibbing, and the driver, a diminutive Cockney, was at its head, urging
+it forward. As I approached I saw him deliberately kick the horse in
+the flank.
+
+I went up to the man and, taking out notebook and pencil, asked him for
+his name, number, and unit, at the same time remonstrating with him
+severely.
+
+"I wasn't doin' 'im no 'arm," pleaded the man; "I've only got my
+gum-boots on, and, besides, 'e kicked me first."
+
+[Illustration: "An' besides, he kicked me first."]
+
+I tore up my entry, mounted my motor-cycle, and left an injured-looking
+driver rubbing a sore shin.--_R. D. Blackman (Capt., R.A.F.), 118 Abbey
+Road, St. John's Wood, N.W.6._
+
+
+M.M. (Mounted Marine)
+
+After riding for several hours one wet, windy, and miserable night,
+with everyone soaked to the skin and fed up generally, we were halted
+in a field which, owing to the heavy rain, was more like a lake.
+
+On receiving the order to dismount and loosen girths, one of our number
+remained mounted and was busy flashing a small torch on the water
+when the sergeant, not too gently, inquired, "Why the dickens are
+you still mounted, and what the deuce are you looking for anyway?" To
+which a Cockney voice replied, "Blimey, sergeant, where's the landing
+stage?"--_"Jimmy" (late Essex Yeomanry)._
+
+
+His German 'Arp
+
+Having been relieved, after our advance at Loos in 1915, we were making
+our way back at night.
+
+We had to pass through the German barbed wire, which had tins tied to
+it so that it rattled if anyone tried to pass it.
+
+Our sergeant got entangled in it and caused a lot of noise, whereupon a
+Cockney said: "You're orl right on the old banjo, sergeant, but when it
+comes to the German 'arp you're a blinkin' washaht."--_W. Barnes, M.M.
+(late 1st Bn. K.R.R.C.), 63 Streatfeild Avenue, East Ham._
+
+[Illustration: "When it comes to the German 'arp you're a washaht."]
+
+
+Jack went a-Riding
+
+Early in 1916 we were on outpost duty at a place called Ayun Musa,
+about four miles east of Suez.
+
+One day a British monitor arrived in the Gulf of Suez, and we were
+invited to spend an hour on board as the sailors' guests. The next day
+the sailors came ashore and were our guests.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't ask me--ask the blinkin' 'oss."]
+
+After seeing the canteen most of them were anxious for a ride on a
+horse. So we saddled a few horses and helped our guests to mount. Every
+horse chose a different direction in the desert.
+
+One of the sailors was a Cockney. He picked a fairly fresh mount, which
+soon "got away" with him. He lost his reins and hung round the animal's
+neck for dear life as it went at full gallop right through the Camp
+Commandant's quarters.
+
+Hearing the commotion, the Commandant put his head out of his bivouac
+and shouted, "What the dickens do you mean galloping through here?"
+
+Back came the retort, "Don't ask me--ask the blinkin' 'oss."--_H. F.
+Montgomery (late H.A.C.), 33 Cavenham Gardens, Ilford._
+
+
+Bitter Memories
+
+During an attack near Beer-Sheba, Palestine, our regiment had been
+without water for over twenty-four hours. We were suffering very badly,
+as the heat was intense. Most of us had swollen tongues and lips and
+were hardly able to speak, but the company humorist, a Cockney, was
+able to mutter, "Don't it make you mad to fink of the times you left
+the barf tap running?"--_H. Owen (late Queen's Royal West Surrey
+Regt.), 18 Edgwarebury Gardens, Edgware, Middlesex._
+
+
+Tommy "Surrounded" Them
+
+It was in July 1916. The Somme Battle had just begun. The troops in
+front of us had gone over the top and were pushing forward. We were in
+support and had just taken over the old front line.
+
+Just on our right was a road leading up and through the German lines.
+Looking up this road we saw a small squad strolling towards us. It
+was composed of four Germans under the care of a London Tommy who was
+strolling along, with his rifle under his arm, like a gamekeeper. It
+made quite a nice picture.
+
+When they reached us one of our young officers shouted out: "Are you
+looking for the hounds?"
+
+Then the Cockney started: "Blimey, I don't know abaht looking for
+'ounds. I got four of 'em 'ere--and now I got 'em I don't know where to
+dump 'em."
+
+The officer said: "Where did you find them?"
+
+"I surrounded 'em, sir," was the reply.
+
+Our officer said: "You had better leave them here for the time being."
+
+"Right-o, sir," replied the Cockney. "You hang on to 'em until I come
+back. I'm going up the road to get some more. There's fahsends of 'em
+up there."--_R. G. Williams, 30 Dean Cottages, Hanworth Road, Hampton,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+Shell-holes and Southend
+
+My pal (a Battersea boy) and I were two of a draft in 1916 transferred
+from the K.R.R.s to the R.I.R.s. On the first night in the trenches we
+were detailed for listening post. My pal said: "That's good. I'll be
+able to tell father what No Man's Land is like, as he asked me."
+
+After we had spent what was to me a nerve-wracking experience in
+the mud of a shell-hole, I asked him what he was going to tell his
+father. He said: "It's like Southend at low tide on the fifth of
+November."--_F. Tuohey (late 14th Batt. R.I.R.), 31 Winchester Road,
+Edmonton._
+
+
+"Make Me a Good 'Orse"
+
+Having come out of action, we lay behind the line waiting for
+reinforcements of men and horses. The horses arrived, and I went out to
+see what they were like.
+
+I was surprised to see a Cockney, who was a good groom, having trouble
+in grooming one of the new horses. Every time he put the brush between
+its forelegs the animal went down on its knees.
+
+[Illustration: "Gawd bless farver an' make me a good 'orse."]
+
+At last in desperation the Cockney stepped back, and gazing at the
+horse still on its knees, said: "Go on, yer long-faced blighter. 'Gawd
+bless muvver. Gawd bless farver, an' make me a good 'orse.'"--_Charles
+Gibbons (late 3rd Cavalry Brigade), 131 Grove Street, Deptford, S.E.8._
+
+
+The Lost Gumboot
+
+An N.C.O. in the Engineers, I was guiding a party of about seventy
+Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regt.) through a trench system between
+Cambrin, near Loos, and the front line. About half-way the trenches
+were in many places knee-deep in mud. It was about 2 a.m. and shelling
+made things far from pleasant. Then word came up that we had lost touch
+with the tail-end of the party, and a halt was called, most of us
+standing in mud two feet deep.
+
+The officer in charge sent a message back asking why the tail-end had
+failed to keep up. The reply came back in due course: "Man lost his
+gumboot in the mud." The officer, becoming annoyed at the delay, sent
+back the message: "Who's the fool who lost his gumboot?"
+
+I heard the message receding into the distance with the words "fool"
+"gumboot" preceded by increasingly lurid adjectives. In about three or
+four minutes I heard the answer being passed up, getting louder and
+louder: "Charlie Chaplin," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN." Even
+our sorely-tried officer had to laugh.--_P. Higson, Lancashire._
+
+
+"Compree 'Sloshy'?"
+
+During one of the Passchendaele advances in 1917 my battery was
+situated astride a board roadway leading over the ridge. After this
+particular show was over I happened to be in the telephone dug-out when
+prisoners started coming back.
+
+One weary little lance-jack in a London regiment arrived in charge
+of an enormous, spectacled, solemn-looking Fritz. As he reached the
+battery position he paused to rest and look at the guns.
+
+Leaning against the side of the dug-out he produced a cigarette end
+and, lighting it, proceeded to make conversation with his charge which,
+being out of sight, I was privileged to overhear.
+
+"Ain't 'arf blinkin' sloshy 'ere, ain't it, Fritz? Compree sloshy?" No
+reply.
+
+He tried again. "Got a cushy job these 'ere artillery blokes, ain't
+they? Compree cushy?" Still no answer.
+
+He made a third attempt. "S'pose you're abart fed up with this blinkin'
+guerre. Compree guerre?" Again the stony, uncomprehending silence; and
+then:
+
+"Garn, yer don't know nuffink, yer don't, yer ignorant blighter. Say
+another blinkin' word and I'll knock yer blinkin' block orf."--_A. E.
+Joyce (late R.F.A.), Swallowcroft, Broxbourne Road, Orpington, Kent._
+
+
+Looking-Glass Luck
+
+During the second battle of Ypres, in May 1915, I was attached to the
+1st Cavalry Brigade, and after a terrific strafing from Fritz there was
+a brief lull, which gave us a chance for a "wash and brush up."
+
+While we were indulging in the luxury of a shave, a Cockney trooper
+dropped his bit of looking-glass.
+
+Seeing that it was broken I casually remarked, "Bad luck for seven
+years." And the reply I got was, "If I live seven years to 'ave bad
+luck it'll be blinking good luck."--_J. Tucker, 46 Langton Road,
+Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Mine that was His
+
+Just before our big push in August 1918 we were resting in "Tank Wood."
+The place was dotted with shell holes, one of which was filled with
+rather clean water, evidently from a nearby spring. A board at the edge
+of this hole bore the word "MINE," so we gave it a wide berth.
+
+Imagine our surprise when later we saw "Tich," a lad from the Old Kent
+Road, bathing in the water. One of our men yelled, "Hi, Tich, carn't
+yer read?"
+
+"Yus," replied "Tich," "don't yer fink a bloke can read 'is own
+writing?"--_Walter F. Brooks (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 141 Cavendish
+Road, Highams Park, E.4._
+
+
+"Geography" Hour
+
+Just before going over the top a private, wishing to appear as cheerful
+as possible, turned to his platoon sergeant and said: "I suppose we
+will be making history in a few minutes, sergeant?"
+
+"No," replied the sergeant: "our first objective is about 250 yards
+straight to the front. What you have to do is to get from here to there
+as quickly as your legs will carry you. We are making geography this
+morning, my lad!"--_"Arras," London, S.W.1._
+
+
+To the General, About the Colonel
+
+The colonel of the regiment, gifted with the resonant voice of a
+dare-devil leader, was highly esteemed for his rigid sense of duty,
+especially in the presence of the enemy.
+
+The Germans had been troubling us a lot with gas, and this kept
+everyone on the _qui vive_.
+
+Accompanied by the colonel, the divisional commander was making his
+usual inspection of the front line intent on the alertness of sentries.
+
+In one fire-bay the colonel stopped to give instructions regarding a
+ventilating machine which had been used to keep the trench clear of gas
+after each attack.
+
+Meanwhile the general moved on towards the other end of the fire-bay,
+where the sentry, fresh out from the reserve battalion recruited in
+Bermondsey, stood with his eyes glued to the periscope.
+
+A natural impulse of the general as he noticed the weather-vane on the
+parapet was to test the sentry's intelligence on "gas attack by the
+enemy," so as he approached the soldier he addressed him in a genial
+and confiding manner: "Well, my lad, and how's the wind blowing this
+morning?"
+
+Welcoming a little respite, as he thought, from periscope strain,
+by way of a short "chin-wag" with one or other of his pals, the
+unsuspecting sentry rubbed his hands gleefully together as he turned
+round with the reply: "'Taint 'arf so dusty arter all." Then, suddenly
+through the corner of his eye he caught sight of his colonel at the
+other end of the fire-bay. His face instantly changed its cheerful
+aspect as he breathlessly whispered to his inquirer, "Lumme, the
+ole man! 'Ere, mate, buzz orf quick--a-a-an' don't let 'im cop yer
+a-talkin' to the sentry on dooty, or Jerry's barrage will be a washaht
+when the Big Noise starts _'is_ fireworks!"--_William St. John Spencer
+(late East Surrey Regiment), "Roydsmoor," Arneson Road, East Molesey,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Bow Bells--1917 Style
+
+We were going up the line at Bullecourt in April 1917. I have rather
+bad eyesight and my glasses had been smashed. Being the last of the
+file I lost touch with the others and had no idea where I was. However,
+I stumbled on, and eventually reached the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "Take those bells orf."]
+
+Upon the ground were some empty petrol cans tied up ready to be taken
+down to be filled with water. I tripped up amongst these and created
+an awful din, whereupon an angry voice came from out the gloom.--"I
+don't know 'oo or wot the dickens you are, but for 'eaven's sake take
+those bells orf!"--_W. G. Root (late 12th London Regt.), 24 Harrington
+Square, N.W.1._
+
+
+"The Awfentic Gramerphone!"
+
+This happened on that wicked March 21, 1918.
+
+During a lull in the scrapping, a lone German wandered too near, and we
+collared him. He was handed over to Alf, our Cockney cookie.
+
+Things got blacker for us. We could see Germans strung out in front of
+us and on both flanks--Germans and machine guns everywhere.
+
+"Well, boys," said our major, "looks as if it's all up with us, doesn't
+it?"
+
+"There's this abaht it, sir," said Alf, pointing to his prisoner; "when
+it comes to chuckin' our 'ands in, we've got the awfentic gramerphone
+to yell 'Kamerad!'--ain't we?"--_C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+The Muffin Man
+
+Two companies of a London regiment were relieving each other on a quiet
+part of the line, late in the evening of a dismal sort of day. The
+members of the ingoing company were carrying sheets of corrugated iron
+on their heads for the purpose of strengthening their position.
+
+A member of the outgoing company, observing a pal of his with one of
+these sheets on his head, bawled out: "'Ullo, 'Arry, what'cher doing
+of?" to which came the laconic reply: "Selling muffins, but I've lost
+me blinkin' bell."--_H. O. Harries, 85 Seymour Road, Harringay, N.8._
+
+
+The Holiday Resort
+
+Early in October 1915 a half company of the 3rd Middlesex Regiment
+occupied a front-line sector at Givenchy, known as the "Duck's Bill,"
+which ran into the German line.
+
+In spite of our proximity to the enemy our chief annoyance was
+occasional sniping, machine gunning, rifle grenades, and liquid fire,
+for the area had been given over mainly to mining and counter-mining.
+
+It was expected that the "Duck's Bill" would "go up" at any moment, so
+it was decided to leave only one officer in charge, with instructions
+to keep every available man engaged either in furiously tunnelling
+towards the enemy to counter their efforts, or in repairing our
+breast-works, which had been seriously damaged in a German attack.
+
+My men worked like Trojans on a most tiring, muddy, and gruesome task.
+
+At last we were relieved by the Leicestershire Regiment, and one of
+my men, on being asked by his Leicester relief what the place was
+like, replied: "Well, 'ow d'yer spend yer 'olidies, in the country
+or at the seaside? 'Cos yer gits both 'ere as yer pleases: rabbit
+'unting (pointing to the tunnelling process) and sand castle building
+(indicating the breastwork repairs), wiv fireworks in the evening."
+
+The Leicesters, alas! "went up" that evening.--_S. H. Flood (late
+Middlesex Regiment and M.G.C.), "Prestonville," Maidstone Road,
+Chatham, Kent._
+
+
+The "Tich" Touch
+
+We had survived the landing operations at Murmansk, in North Russia,
+and each company had received a number of sets of skis, which are very
+awkward things to manage until you get used to them.
+
+On one occasion when we were practising, a "son of London," after
+repeated tumbles, remarked to his pals, who were also getting some "ups
+and downs": "Fancy seein' me dahn Poplar way wiv these fings on; my
+little old bunch of trouble would say, 'What's 'e trying ter do nah?
+Cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance?'"--_C. H. Mitchell (late
+Staff-Sergt. A.S.C.), 7 Kingsholm Gardens, Eltham, S.E.9._
+
+[Illustration: "Trying to cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance."]
+
+
+Smart Men All
+
+One of the usual orders had come through to my battalion of the
+Middlesex Regiment for a number of men to be detailed for extra
+regimental duties which would be likely to take them away from the
+battalion for a considerable time. The company I commanded had to
+provide twenty men.
+
+It was a golden opportunity to make a selection of those men whose
+physical infirmities were more evident than the stoutness of their
+hearts. Together with my company sergeant-major I compiled a list of
+those who could best be spared from the trenches, and the following day
+they were paraded for inspection before moving off.
+
+As I approached, one of the men who had been summing up his comrades
+and evidently realised the reason for their selection, remarked
+in a very audible Cockney whisper, "What I says is, if you was to
+search the 'ole of Norvern France you wouldn't find a smarter body
+o' men!"--_"Nobby" (late Captain, Middlesex Regiment), Potters Bar,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+"You'd Pay a Tanner at the Zoo!"
+
+During the floods in Palestine in 1917 I had to be sent down the line
+with an attack of malaria. Owing to the roads being deep in water, I
+was strapped in an iron chair pannier on the back of a camel. My sick
+companion, who balanced me on the other side of the camel, was a member
+of the London Regiment affectionately known as the Hackney Gurkhas.
+
+The Johnnie patiently trudged through the water leading the camel, and
+kept up the cry of "Ish! Ish!" as it almost slipped down at every step.
+
+I was feeling pretty bad with the swaying, and said to my companion,
+"Isn't this the limit?"
+
+"Shurrup, mate!" he replied. "Yer don't know when yer well orf. You'd
+'ave to pay a tanner for this at the Zoo!"--_Frederick T. Fitch (late
+1/5th Batt. Norfolk Regt.), The Gordon Boys' Home, West End, Woking,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Smoking Without Cigarettes
+
+Most ex-soldiers will remember the dreary monotony of "going through
+the motions" of every movement in rifle exercises.
+
+We had just evacuated our position on the night of December 4-5, 1917,
+at Cambrai, after the German counter-attack, and, after withstanding
+several days' severe battering both by the enemy and the elements, were
+staggering along, tired and frozen and hungry, and generally fed up.
+
+When we were deemed to be sufficiently far from the danger zone the
+order was given to allow the men to smoke. As practically everyone in
+the battalion had been without cigarettes or tobacco for some days
+the permission seemed to be wasted. But I passed the word down, "'C'
+Company, the men may smoke," to be immediately taken up by a North
+Londoner: "Yus, and if you ain't got no fags you can go through the
+motions."--_H. H. Morris, M.C. (late Lieut., 16th Middlesex Regt.), 10
+Herbert Street, Malden Road, N.W.5._
+
+
+An Expensive Light
+
+Winter 1915, at Wieltje, on the St. Jean Road. We were on listening
+post in a shell-hole in No Man's Land, and the night was black.
+
+Without any warning, my Cockney pal Nobby threw a bomb towards the
+German trench, and immediately Fritz sent up dozens of Verey lights.
+I turned anxiously to Nobby and asked, "What is it? Did you spot
+anything?" and was astonished when he replied, "I wanted ter know
+the time, and I couldn't see me blinkin' watch in the dark."--_E. W.
+Fellows, M.M. (late 6th Battn. D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace Road, Clapton,
+E.5._
+
+
+Modern Conveniences
+
+A Tommy plugging it along the Arras-Doullens road in the pouring rain.
+"Ole Bill," the omnibus, laden with Cockneys going towards the line,
+overtakes him.
+
+Tommy: "Sitting room inside, mate?"
+
+Cockney on Bus: "No, but there's a barf-room upstairs!"--_George T.
+Coles (ex-Lieut., R.A.F.), 17 Glebe Crescent, Hendon, N.W.4._
+
+[Illustration: "There's a barf-room upstairs!"]
+
+
+The Trench Fleet
+
+A certain section of the line, just in front of Levantie, being a
+comparatively peaceful and quiet spot, was held by a series of posts at
+intervals of anything up to three hundred yards, which made the task of
+bringing up rations an unhappy one, especially as the trenches in this
+sector always contained about four feet of water.
+
+One November night a miserable ration party was wading through the thin
+slimy mud. The sentry at the top of the communication trench, hearing
+the grousing, splashing, and clanking of tins, and knowing full well
+who was approaching, issued the usual challenge, as per Army Orders:
+"'Alt! 'Oo goes there?"
+
+Out of the darkness came the reply, in a weary voice: "Admiral Jellicoe
+an' 'is blinkin' fleet."--_W. L. de Groot (late Lieut., 5th West Yorks
+Regt.), 17 Wentworth Road, Golders Green, N.W.11._
+
+
+The Necessary Stimulant
+
+On the St. Quentin front in 1917 we were relieved by the French
+Artillery. We watched with rather critical eyes their guns going in,
+and, best of all, their observation balloon going up.
+
+The ascent of this balloon was, to say the least, spasmodic. First it
+went up about a hundred feet, then came down, then a little higher and
+down again.
+
+This was repeated several times, until at last the car was brought
+to the ground and the observer got out. He was handed a packet, then
+hastily returned, and up the balloon went for good. Then I heard a
+Cockney voice beside me in explanatory tones: "There! I noo wot it was
+all the time. 'E'd forgotten his vin blong!"--_Ernest E. Homewood (late
+1st London Heavy Battery), 13 Park Avenue, Willesden Green, N.W.2._
+
+
+A Traffic Problem
+
+A dark cloudy night in front of Lens, two patrols of the 19th London
+Regt., one led by Lieut. R----, the other by Corporal B----, were
+crawling along the barbed wire entanglements in No Man's Land, towards
+each other.
+
+Two tin hats met with a clang, which at once drew the attention of
+Fritz.
+
+Lieut. R---- sat back in the mud, while snipers' and machine-gun
+bullets whistled past, and in a cool voice said, "Why don't you
+ring your perishing bell?"--_L. C. Pryke (late 19th London Regt.),
+"Broughdale," Rochford Avenue, Rochford, Essex._
+
+
+Scots, Read This!
+
+On the afternoon of Christmas Day, 1915, three pipers, of whom I was
+one, went into the trenches at Loos, and after playing at our Battalion
+H.Q., proceeded to the front line, where we played some selections
+for the benefit of the Germans, whose trenches were very close at
+this point. Probably thinking that an attack was imminent, they sent
+up innumerable Verey lights, but, deciding later that we had no such
+intention, they responded by singing and playing on mouth-organs.
+
+Having finished our performance, my friends and I proceeded on our way
+back, and presently, passing some men of another regiment, were asked
+by one of them: "Was that you playin' them bloomin' toobs?" We admitted
+it.
+
+"'Ear that, Joe?" he remarked to his pal. "These blokes 'ave bin givin'
+the 'Uns a toon."
+
+"Serve 'em right," said Joe, "they started the blinkin' war."--_Robert
+Donald Marshall (late Piper, 1st Bn. London Scottish), 83 Cranley
+Drive, Ilford._
+
+
+Met His Match
+
+A London Tommy was standing near the leave boat at Calais, which had
+just brought him back to France on his way to the firing line. It was
+raining, and he was trying to get a damp cigarette to draw.
+
+Just then a French soldier approached him with an unlighted cigarette
+in his hand, and, pointing to Tommy's cigarette, held out his hand and
+exclaimed "Allumette?"
+
+[Illustration: Poilu: "Allumette?"
+
+Tommy: "'Allo, mate." (Shakes.)]
+
+The Tommy sadly shook hands and replied "Allo, Mate."--_A. J. Fairer,
+Mirigama, Red Down Road, Coulsdon, Surrey._
+
+
+Why Jerry was "Clinked"
+
+On August 8, 1918, as our battery began the long trail which landed us
+in Cologne before Christmas we met a military policeman who had in his
+charge three very dejected-looking German prisoners. "Brummy," our
+battery humorist, shouted to the red-cap: "'Ullo, Bobby, what are yer
+clinkin' those poor old blokes for?"
+
+"Creatin' a disturbance on the Western Front," replied the
+red-cap.--_Wm. G. Sheppard (late Sergeant, 24th Siege Bty., R.A.), 50
+Benares Road, Plumstead, S.E.18._
+
+
+Stick-in-the-Mud
+
+We were in reserve at Roclincourt in February 1917, and about twenty
+men were detailed to carry rations to the front line. The trenches were
+knee-deep in mud.
+
+After traversing about two hundred yards of communication trench we
+struck a particularly thick, clayey patch, and every few yards the
+order "Halt in front!" was passed from the rear.
+
+The corporal leading the men got very annoyed at the all-too-frequent
+halts. He passed the word back, "What's the matter?" The reply was,
+"Shorty's in the mud, and we can't get 'im out."
+
+Waiting a few minutes, the corporal again passed a message back:
+"Haven't you got him out yet? How long are you going to be?" Reply came
+from the rear in a Cockney voice: "'Eaven knows! There's only 'is ears
+showin'."--_G. Kay, 162 Devonshire Avenue, Southsea, Hants._
+
+
+"If _That_ can stick it, _I_ can!"
+
+Owing to the forced marching during the retreat from Mons, men would
+fall out by the roadside and, after a rest, carry on again.
+
+One old soldier, "Buster" Smith, was lying down puffing and gasping
+when up rode an officer mounted upon an old horse that he had found
+straying.
+
+Going up to "Buster" the officer asked him if he thought he could
+"stick it."
+
+"Buster" looked up at the officer and then, eyeing the horse, said:
+"If _that_ can stick it, _I_ can," and, getting up, he resumed
+marching.--_E. Barwick, 19 St. Peter's Street, Hackney Road, E.2._
+
+
+Wheeling a Mule
+
+In November '15 we were relieved in the early hours of the morning.
+
+It had been raining, raining most of the time we were in the trenches,
+and so we were more or less wet through and covered in mud when we came
+out for a few days' rest.
+
+About two or three kilometres from Béthune we were all weary and fed-up
+with marching. Scarcely a word was spoken until we came across an
+Engineer leading a mule with a roll of telephone wire coiled round a
+wheel on its back. The mule looked as fed-up as we were, and a Cockney
+in our platoon shouted out, "Blimey, mate, if you're goin' much furver
+wiv the old 'oss yer'll 'ave to turn it on its back and wheel it."--_W.
+S. (late Coldstream Guards), Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+Three Brace of Braces
+
+While I was serving with the 58th Siege Battery at Carnoy, on the
+Somme, in 1916, a young Cockney of the 29th Division was discovered
+walking in front of three German prisoners. Over his shoulders he had
+three pairs of braces.
+
+[Illustration: "... while I got their 'harness' they can't get up to
+any mischief."]
+
+A wag asked him if he wanted to sell them, and his reply was: "No,
+these Fritzies gets 'em back when they gets to the cage. But while I
+got their 'harness' they can't get up to any mischief."--_E. Brinkman,
+16 Hornsey Street, Holloway Road, N.7._
+
+
+"Bow Bells" Warning
+
+At the beginning of March 1918, near Flesquières, we captured a number
+of prisoners, some of whom were put in the charge of "Nipper," a native
+of Limehouse.
+
+I heard him address them as follows: "Nah, then, if yer wants a fag yer
+can have one, but, blimey, if yer starts any capers, I'll knock 'Bow
+Bells' aht of yer Stepney Church."--_J. Barlow (20th London Regt.), 18
+Roding Lane, Buckhurst Hill, Essex._
+
+
+"'Ave a Sniff"
+
+My father tells of a raw individual from London Town who had aroused
+great wrath by having within a space of an hour given two false alarms
+for gas. After the second error everyone was just drowsing off again
+when a figure cautiously put his head inside the dug-out, and hoarsely
+said: "'Ere, sergeant, yer might come and 'ave a sniff."--_R. Purser,
+St. Oama, Vista Road, Wickford, Essex._
+
+
+The Dirt Track
+
+While my regiment was in support at Ecurie, near Arras, I was detailed
+to take an urgent message to B.H.Q.
+
+I mounted a motor-cycle and started on my way, but I hadn't gone far
+when a shell burst right in my path and made a huge crater, into which
+I slipped. After going round the inside rim twice at about twenty-five
+miles an hour, I landed in the mud at the bottom. Pulling myself clear
+of the cycle, I saw two fellows looking down and laughing at me.
+
+"Funny, isn't it?" I said.
+
+"Yus, matey, thought it was Sanger's Circus. Where's the girl in the
+tights wot rides the 'orses?"
+
+Words failed me.--_London Yeomanry, Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Babylon and Bully
+
+After a dismal trek across the mud of Mespot, my batman and I arrived
+at the ruins of Babylon. As I sat by the river under the trees, and
+gazed upon the stupendous ruins of the one-time mightiest city in the
+world, I thought of the words of the old Psalm--"By the waters of
+Babylon we sat down and wept----"
+
+And this was the actual spot!
+
+Moved by my thoughts, I turned to my batman and said, "By Jove, just
+think. This is really _Babylon_!"
+
+"Yes, sir," he replied, "but I'm a-wonderin' 'ow I'm goin' to do your
+bully beef up to-night to make a change like."--_W. L. Lamb (late R.E.,
+M.E.F.), "Sunnings," Sidley, Bexhill-on-Sea._
+
+
+Twice Nightly
+
+An attack was expected, and some men were kept in reserve in an
+underground excavation more closely resembling a tunnel than a trench.
+
+After about twenty hours' waiting in knee-deep mud and freezing cold,
+they were relieved by another group.
+
+As they were filing out one of the relief party said to one of those
+coming out, "Who are you?"
+
+"'Oo are we?" came the reply. "Cahn't yer see we're the fust 'ouse
+comin' aht o' the pit?"--_K. Haddon, 379 Rotherhithe New Road, North
+Camberwell, S.E.16._
+
+
+In Shining Armour
+
+A horrible wet night on the Locre-Dranoutre Road in 1914. A narrow
+strip of pavé road and, on either side, mud of a real Flanders
+consistency.
+
+I was on my lawful occasions in a car, which was following a long
+supply column of five-ton lorries.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ere, ally off the perishin' pavé, you knight in
+shinin' armour."]
+
+I need scarcely say that the car did not try to forsake the comparative
+security of the pavé, but when a check of about a quarter of an hour
+occurred, I got down from the car and stumbled through the pouring
+rain, well above the boot-tops in mud, to the head of the column.
+
+Impasse barely describes the condition of things, for immediately
+facing the leading lorry was a squadron of French Cuirassiers, complete
+with "tin bellies" and helmets with horse-hair trimmings.
+
+This squadron was in command of a very haughty French captain, who
+seemed, in the light of the lorry's head-lamps, to have a bigger
+cuirass and helmet than his men.
+
+He was faced by a diminutive sergeant of the A.S.C., wet through, fed
+up, but complete with cigarette.
+
+Neither understood the other's language, but it was quite obvious that
+neither would leave the pavé for the mud. Did the sergeant wring his
+hands or say to the officer, "Mon Capitaine, je vous en prie, etc."? He
+did not. He merely stood there, and, removing his cigarette from his
+mouth, uttered these immortal words:
+
+"'Ere, ally off the perishing pavé, you son of a knight in shinin'
+armour!"
+
+And, believe me or believe me not, that is what the haughty one and his
+men did.--_"The Ancient Mariner," Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"A Blinkin' Paper-Chase?"
+
+One pitch black rainy night I was bringing up the rear of a party
+engaged in carrying up the line a number of trench mortar bombs known
+as "toffee-apples."
+
+We had become badly tailed-off during our progress through a maze of
+communication trenches knee-deep in mud, and as I staggered at last
+into the support trench with my load I spied a solitary individual
+standing on the fire-step gazing over the parapet.
+
+"Seen any Queen's pass this way?" I inquired.
+
+"Blimey," he replied, apparently fed-up with the constant repetition of
+the same question, "wot 'ave you blokes got on to-night---a blinkin'
+piper-chise?"--_W. H. Blakeman (late Sergt., Queen's R.W.S. Regt.), 22
+Shorts Road, Carshalton._
+
+
+Biscuits--Another Point of View
+
+In April 1915 my battalion was on the way up to take over a line of
+"grouse-butts"--there were no continuous trenches--in front of a
+pleasure resort by the name of Festubert.
+
+Arrived at Gore, a couple of miles or so from the line, we ran into
+some transport that had got thoroughly tied up, and had a wait of about
+half-an-hour while the joy-riders sorted themselves out. It was pitch
+dark and raining hard, and the occasional spot of confetti that came
+over added very little to the general enjoyment.
+
+As I moved up and down my platoon, the usual profane but humorous
+grousing was in full spate. At that time the ration arrangements were
+not so well organised as they afterwards became, and for some weeks the
+bulk of our banquets had consisted of bully and remarkably hard and
+unpalatable biscuits. The latter were a particularly sore point with
+the troops.
+
+As I listened, one rifleman held forth on the subject. "No blinkin'
+bread for five blinkin' weeks," he wound up--"nothin' but blinkin'
+biscuits that taste like sawdust an' break every tooth in yer perishin'
+'ed. 'Ow the 'ell do they expect yer to fight on stuff like that?"
+"Whatcher grousin' about?" drawled another weary voice. "Dawgs _lives_
+on biscuits, and they can fight like 'ell!"--_S. B. Skevington (late
+Major, 1st London Irish Rifles), 10 Berkeley Street, W.1._
+
+
+His Bird Bath
+
+A battalion of the Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment) was in
+support, and a private was endeavouring to wash himself as thoroughly
+as possible with about a pint of water in a mess-tin.
+
+A kindly disposed staff officer happened to come along, and seeing the
+man thus engaged, said, "Having a wash, my man?"
+
+[Illustration: "Wish I was a blinkin' canary: I could have a bath
+then."]
+
+Back came the reply, "Yus, and I wish I was a blinkin' canary. Could
+have a bath then."--_R. G. Scarborough, 89 Tennyson Avenue, New Maiden,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Ducking 'em---then Nursing 'em
+
+After the Cambrai affair of November 1917 our company came out of the
+line, but we had to salvage some very large and heavy shells.
+
+We had been carrying the shells in our arms for about an hour when I
+heard a fed-up Cockney turn to the sergeant and say: "'Ere 'ave I been
+duckin' me nut for years from these blinkin' fings---blimey, and nah
+I'm nursin' 'em!"---_Rfn. Elliott (late 17th K.R.R.C.), 9 Leghorn Road,
+Harlesden, N.W._
+
+
+Salonika Rhapsody
+
+Three of us were sitting by the support line on the Salonika front,
+conditions were fairly bad, rations were short and a mail was long
+overdue. We were fed-up. But the view across the Vardar Valley was some
+compensation.
+
+The wadis and plains, studded with bright flowers, the glistening river
+and the sun just setting behind the distant ridges and tinting the low
+clouds, combined to make a perfect picture. One of my pals, with a
+poetic temperament, rhapsodised on the scene for several minutes, and
+then asked our other mate what he thought. "Sooner see the blinkin'
+Old Kent Road!" was the answer of the peace-time costermonger.--_W. W.
+Wright, 24 Borthwick Road, E.15._
+
+
+A Ticklin' Tiddler
+
+In January 1915, near Richebourg, I was one of a ration-party being led
+back to the front line by a lance-corporal. The front line was a system
+of breast-works surrounded by old disused trenches filled with seven
+feet or so of icy-cold water.
+
+It was a very dark moonless night, and near the line our leader called
+out to those in the breast-works to ask them where the bridge was. He
+was told to step off by the broken tree. He did so and slid into the
+murky depths--the wrong tree!
+
+We got him out and he stood on dry (?) land, shining with moisture,
+full of strange oaths and vowing vengeance on the lad who had
+misdirected him.
+
+At stand-down in the dawn (hours afterwards) he was sipping his tot of
+rum. He had had no chance of drying his clothes. I asked how he felt.
+
+"Fresh as a pansy, mate," was his reply. "Won'erful 'ow a cold plunge
+bucks yer up! Blimey, I feel as if I could push a leave train from
+'ere to the base. 'Ere, put yer 'and dahn my tunic and see if that's
+a tiddler ticklin' me back."--_F. J. Reidy (late 1st K.R.R.s), 119
+Mayfair Avenue, Ilford._
+
+
+Biscuits and Geometry
+
+During a spell near St. Quentin our company existed chiefly on
+biscuits--much to the annoyance of one of our officers, who said he
+detested dogs' food.
+
+One evening he met the Cockney corporal who had just come up in charge
+of the ration party.
+
+Officer: "Any change to-night, corporal?"
+
+Corporal: "Yessir!"
+
+Officer: "Good! What have we got?"
+
+Corporal: "Rahnd 'uns instead of square 'uns, sir."--_R. Pitt (late
+M.G.C.), 54 Holland Park Avenue, W.11._
+
+
+All that was Wrong with the War
+
+Taking up ammunition to the guns at Passchendaele Ridge, I met a few
+infantrymen carrying duckboards.
+
+My mule was rather in the way and so one of the infantrymen, who
+belonged to a London regiment, gave him a push with his duckboard.
+
+Naturally, the mule simply let out and kicked him into a shell-hole
+full of water.
+
+[Illustration: "... and that's mules."]
+
+We got the unlucky fellow out, and his first action was to shake his
+fist at the mule and say: "There's only one thing I don't like in
+this blinking war and that's those perishin' mules!"--_H. E. Richards
+(R.F.A.), 67 Topsham Road, Upper Tooting, S.W.17._
+
+
+Not a Single Cockney
+
+In 1917, when we were acting as mobile artillery, we had halted by the
+roadside to water and feed our horses, and were just ready to move off
+when we were passed by a column of the Chinese Labour Corps, about
+2,000 of them.
+
+After they had all passed, a gunner from Clerkenwell said: "Would
+yer believe it? All that lot gorn by and I never reckernised a
+Townie!"--_C. Davis (late Sergeant, R.A., 3rd Cavalry Division), 7 Yew
+Tree Villas, Welling, Kent._
+
+
+Sanger's Circus on the Marne!
+
+On the way from the Marne to the Aisne in September 1914 the 5th
+Cavalry Brigade passed a column of Algerian native troops, who had been
+drawn up in a field to allow us to continue along the nearby road.
+
+The column had all the gaudy appearance of shop windows at Christmas.
+There were hooded vehicles with stars and crescents blazoned on them,
+drawn by bullocks, mules, and donkeys. The natives themselves were
+dressed, some in white robes and turbans, others in red "plus four"
+trousers and blue "Eton cut" jackets; and their red fezzes were adorned
+with stars and crescents. Altogether a picturesque sight, and one we
+did not expect to meet on the Western Front.
+
+On coming into view of this column, one of our lead drivers (from Bow)
+of a four-horse team drawing a pontoon wagon turned round to his wheel
+driver, and, pointing to the column with his whip, shouted, "Alf!
+Sanger's Circus!"--_H. W. Taylor (late R.E.), The Lodge, Radnor Works,
+Strawberry Vale, Twickenham._
+
+
+"Contemptible" Stuff
+
+When the rumour reached us about a medal for the troops who went out
+at the beginning, a few of us were sitting in a dug-out outside Ypres
+discussing the news.
+
+"Mac" said: "I wonder if they'll give us anything else beside the
+medal?"
+
+Our Cockney, Alf, remarked: "You got a lot to say about this 'ere
+bloomin' 'gong' (medal); anybody 'd fink you was goin' ter git one."
+
+"I came out in September '14, any way," said Mac.
+
+Alf (very indignant): "Blimey, 'ark at 'im! You don't 'arf expect
+somefink, you don't. Why, the blinkin' war was 'arf over by then."--_J.
+F. Grey (late D.L.I, and R.A.O.C.), 247 Ducane Road, Shepherd's Bush,
+W.12._
+
+
+A Cockney on Horseback---Just
+
+We were going out to rest after about four months behind the guns at
+Ypres, and the drivers brought up spare horses for us to ride. One
+Cockney gunner was heard to say, "I can't ride; I've never rode an
+'orse in me life." We helped him to get mounted, but we had not gone
+far when Jerry started sending 'em over. So we started trotting. To see
+our Cockney friend hanging on with his arms round the horse's neck was
+quite a treat!
+
+However, we eventually got back to the horse lines where our hero,
+having fallen off, remarked: "Well, after that, I fink if ever I do
+get back to Blighty I'll always raise me 'at to an 'orse."--_A. Lepley
+(late R.F.A.), 133 Blackwell Buildings, Whitechapel, E.1._
+
+
+A Too Sociable Horse
+
+We were asleep in our dug-out at Bray, on the Somme, in November 1915.
+The dug-out was cut in the bank of a field where our horse lines were.
+
+One of the horses broke loose and, taking a fancy to our roof, which
+was made of brushwood and rushes, started eating it.
+
+Suddenly the roof gave way and the horse fell through, narrowly missing
+myself and my pal, who was also a Cockney.
+
+[Illustration: "They want to come to bed wiv us."]
+
+After we had got over the shock my pal said, "Well, if that ain't the
+blinkin' latest. These long-eared blighters ain't satisfied with us
+looking after them--they want to come to bed with us."--_F. E. Snell
+(late 27th Brigade, R.F.A.), 22 Woodchester Street, Harrow Road, W.2._
+
+
+General Salute!
+
+While "resting" at Bully-Grenay in the winter of 1916 I witnessed the
+following incident:
+
+Major-General ---- and his A.D.C. were walking through the village
+when an elderly Cockney member of a Labour battalion (a typical London
+navvy) stumbled out of an estaminet. He almost collided with the
+general.
+
+Quickly pulling himself together and exclaiming "Blimey, the boss!" he
+gave a very non-military salute; but the general, tactfully ignoring
+his merry condition, had passed on.
+
+In spite of his pal's attempts to restrain him, he overtook the
+general, shouting "I did serlute yer, didn't I, guv'nor?"
+
+To which the general hastily replied: "Yes, yes, my man!"
+
+"Well," said the Cockney, "here's anuvver!"--_A. J. K. Davis (late
+20th London Regt., att. 73rd M.G.C.), Minnis Croft, Reculver Avenue,
+Birchington._
+
+
+Wipers-on-Sea
+
+Scene, "Wipers"; Time, winter of 1917.
+
+A very miserable-looking R.F.A. driver, wet to the skin, is riding a
+very weary mule through the rain.
+
+Voice from passing infantryman, in the unmistakable accent of Bow
+Bells: "Where y' goin', mate? Pier an' back?"--_A. Gelli (late H.A.C.),
+27 Langdon Park Road, Highgate, N.6._
+
+
+He Rescued His Shirt
+
+During the latter stages of the war, with the enemy in full retreat,
+supply columns and stores were in most cases left far behind. Those in
+the advance columns, when marching through occupied villages, often
+"won" articles of underclothing to make up for deficiencies.
+
+Camberwell Alf had a couple of striped "civvy" shirts, and had lent
+a less fortunate battery chum one of these on the understanding that
+it would be returned in due course. The same evening the battery
+was crossing a pontoon bridge when a mule became frightened at the
+oscillation of the wooden structure, reared wildly, and pitched its
+rider over the canvas screen into the river.
+
+Camberwell Alf immediately plunged into the water and rescued his
+unfortunate chum after a great struggle.
+
+Later the rescued one addressed his rescuer: "Thank yer, Alf, mate."
+
+"Don't yer 'mate' me, yer blinkin' perisher!" Alf replied. "Wot the
+'ell d'yer mean by muckin' abaht in the pahny (water) wiv my shirt
+on?"--_J. H. Hartnoll (late 30th Div. Artillery), 1 Durning Road, Upper
+Norwood, S.E.19._
+
+
+A Smile from the Prince
+
+One morning towards the end of May 1915, just before the battle of
+Festubert, my pal Bill and I were returning from the village bakery on
+the Festubert road to our billets at Gorre with a loaf each, which we
+had just bought.
+
+Turning the corner into the village we saw approaching us a company of
+the Grenadier Guards in battle order, with a slim young officer at the
+head carrying a stick almost as tall as himself. Directly behind the
+officer was a hefty Guardsman playing "Tipperary" on a concertina.
+
+We saluted the officer, who, after spotting the loaves of bread
+under our arms, looked straight at us, gave us a knowing smile and
+acknowledged our salute. It was not till then that we recognised who
+the officer was. It was the Prince of Wales.
+
+"Lumme!" said Bill. "There goes the Prince o' Wales hisself a-taking
+the guard to the Bank o' England!"--_J. F. Davis, 29 Faunce Street,
+S.E.17._
+
+
+"Just to Make Us Laugh"
+
+We were one of those unlucky fatigue parties detailed to carry
+ammunition to the forward machine gun positions in the Ypres sector.
+We started off in the dusk and trudged up to the line. The transport
+dumped the "ammo" at a convenient spot and left us to it. Then it
+started raining.
+
+The communication trenches were up to our boot tops in mud, so we left
+them and walked across the top. The ground was all chalky slime and we
+slipped and slid all over the place. Within a very short time we were
+wet through and, to make matters worse, we occasionally slipped into
+shell-holes half full of water (just to relieve the monotony!).
+
+We kept this up all night until the "ammo" had all been delivered; then
+the order came to march back to billets at Dranoutre. It was still
+pouring with rain, and when we came to Shrapnel Corner we saw the
+famous notice board: "Avoid raising Dust Clouds as it draws Enemy's
+Shell Fire."
+
+We were new to this part of the line and, just then, the idea of
+raising dust clouds was extremely ludicrous.
+
+I asked my pal Jarvis, who came from Greenwich, what he thought they
+put boards like that up for. His reply was typically Cockney: "I
+'spect they did that just to make us laugh, as we cawnt go to the
+picshures."--_Mack (late M.G.C.), Cathcart, The Heath, Dartford._
+
+
+No Use Arguing with a Mule
+
+Whilst "resting" after the Jerusalem battle, my battalion was detailed
+for road-making. Large stones were used for the foundation of the road
+and small and broken stones for the surface. Our job was to find the
+stones, _assisted_ by mules.
+
+A mule was new to Joe Smith--a great-hearted boy from Limehouse
+way--but he must have heard about them for he gingerly approached the
+one allotted to him, and as gingerly led him away into the hills.
+
+Presently Joe was seen returning, but, to our amazement, he was
+struggling along with the loaded baskets slung across his own
+shoulders, and the mule was trailing behind. When I asked why _he_ was
+carrying the load, he replied: "Well, I was loading 'im up wiv the
+stones, but he cut up rusty, so to save a lot of argument, I reckoned
+as 'ow I'd better carry the darned stones meself."---_A. C. Wood, 56
+Glasslyn Road, N.8._
+
+
+Kissing Time
+
+It was towards the end of '18, and we had got old Jerry well on the
+run. We had reached a village near Lille, which had been in German
+occupation, and the inhabitants were surging round us.
+
+[Illustration: "Take the rough with the smooth."]
+
+A corporal was having the time of his life, being kissed on both cheeks
+by the girls, but when it came to a bewhiskered French papa's turn the
+corporal hesitated. "Nah, then, corporal," shouted one of our boys, "be
+sporty! Take the rough with the smooth!"---_G. H. Harris (late C.S.M.,
+8th London Regt.), 65 Nelson Road, South Chingford, E.4._
+
+
+"Playin' Soldiers"
+
+We were in the Cambrai Salient, in support in the old Hindenburg Line.
+Close to us was a road where there were a ration dump and every other
+sort of dump. Everybody in the sector went through us to get rations,
+ammunition, stores, etc.
+
+There was just room in the trench for two men to pass. Snow had been on
+the ground for weeks, and the bottom of the trench was like glass. One
+night at stand-to the Drake Battalion crowded past us to get rations.
+On their return journey the leading man, with two sandbags of rations
+round his neck and a petrol can of water in each hand, fell over at
+every other step. Things were further complicated by a party of R.E.'s
+coming down the line with much barbed wire, in which this unfortunate
+"Drake" entangled himself.
+
+As he picked himself up for the umpteenth time, and without the least
+intention of being funny, I heard him say: "Well, if I ever catch that
+nipper of mine playin' soldiers, I won't 'arf knock 'is blinkin' block
+orf."--_A. M. B. (late Artists Rifles), Savage Club, W.C.2._
+
+
+Per Carrier
+
+During the occupation of the "foreshores of Gallipoli" in 1915 the
+troops were suffering from shortage of water.
+
+I and six more, including Tich, were detailed to carry petrol cans full
+of water up to the front line. We had rather a rough passage over very
+hilly ground, and more than one of us tripped over stones that were
+strewn across the path, causing us to say a few strong words.
+
+By the time we reached our destination we were just about all in, and
+on being challenged "Halt; who goes there?" Tich answered: "Carter
+Paterson and Co. with 'Adam's ale,' all nice and frothy!"--_D. W.
+Jordan (late 1/5th Essex, 54th Division), 109a Gilmore Road, Lewisham,
+S.E.13._
+
+
+"Enemy" in the Wire
+
+I was in charge of an advanced post on the Dorian front, Salonica,
+1917, which had been often raided by the Bulgars, and we were advised
+to be extra wary. In the event of an attack we were to fire a red
+flare, which was a signal for the artillery to put over a barrage.
+
+About 2 a.m. we heard a commotion in our wire, but, receiving no answer
+to our challenge, I decided to await further developments. The noise
+was soon repeated in a way that left no doubt in my mind that we were
+being attacked, so I ordered the section to open fire and sent up the
+signal for the guns.
+
+Imagine our surprise when, after all was quiet again, we heard the same
+noise in the wire. One of the sentries was a Cockney, and without a
+word he crawled over the parapet and disappeared in the direction of
+the noise.
+
+A few minutes later came the sound of smothered laughter, and the
+sentry returned with a hedgehog firmly fixed in an empty bully tin. It
+was the cause of our alarm!
+
+After releasing the animal from its predicament, the sentry said: "We'd
+better send the blighter to the Zoo, Corp, wiv a card to say 'this
+little pig put the wind up the troops, caused a fousand men to open
+fire, was bombed, machine-gunned, and shelled.' Blimey! I'd like to
+see the Gunner officer's face if he knew this."--_D. R. Payne, M.M.
+(ex-Worcester Regt.), 40 High Street, Overton, Hants._
+
+
+Straight from the Heart
+
+Under canvas at Rousseauville with 27th Squadron, R.F.C., early
+1918--wet season--raining hard--everything wet through and muddy--a
+"fed-up" gloomy feeling everywhere.
+
+We were trying to start a 3-ton lorry that was stuck in the mud on the
+aerodrome. After we had all had a shot at swinging the starting handle,
+the very Cockney driver of the lorry completely exhausted himself in
+yet another unsuccessful attempt to start up. Then, leaning against the
+radiator and pushing his cap back, he puffed out:
+
+"I dunno! These perishin' lorries are enough to take all the flamin'
+romance out of any blinkin' camp!"--_R. S. W. (Flying-Officer, R.A.F.
+Reserve), 52 Cavendish Road, N.W.6._
+
+
+Smile! Smile! SMILE!!
+
+Conversation between two Cockney members of a North Country regiment
+whilst proceeding along the Menin road in March 1918 as members of a
+wiring party:
+
+1st: I'm fed up with this stunt.
+
+2nd: Same 'ere. 'Tain't 'arf a life, ain't it? No rest, no beer,
+blinkin' leave stopped--er, got any fags?
+
+1st: No, mate.
+
+2nd: No fags, no nuffink. It's only us keepin' so ruddy cheerful as
+pulls us through.--_V. Marston, 232 Worple Road, Wimbledon, S.W.20._
+
+
+War's Lost Charm
+
+Time, winter of 1917: scene, a track towards Langemarck from Pilkem.
+Weather and general conditions--Flanders at its worst. My companion
+that night was an N.C.O. "out since 'fourteen," and we had plodded
+on in silence for some time. Suddenly behind me there was a slither,
+a splash, and a smothered remark as the sergeant skidded from the
+duckboard into an especially dirty shell hole.
+
+I helped him out and asked if he was all right. The reply came,
+"I'm all right, sir; but this blinkin' war seems to have lost its
+charm!"--_J. E. A. Whitman (Captain, late R.F.A.), The Hampden Club,
+N.W.1._
+
+
+Taking It Lying Down
+
+The 1st Battalion of the 25th Londons was preparing to march into
+Waziristan.
+
+Old Bert, the cook, diligently loading up a kneeling camel with dixies,
+pots and pans, and general cooking utensils, paused for a bit, wiped
+the sweat from his brow, and stood back with arms akimbo gazing with
+satisfaction upon his work.
+
+Then he went up to the camel, gave him a gentle prod, and grunted
+"Ooush, yer blighter, ooush" (i.e. rise). The camel turned gently over
+on his back, unshipping the whole cargo that Bert had worked so hard
+upon, and kicked his legs in the air.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer kitten?"]
+
+Poor old Bert looked at the wreckage and exclaimed, more in sorrow
+than in anger: "Blimey, don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer
+kitten?"--_T. F. Chanter, 16 Atalanta Street, Fulham._
+
+
+The First Twenty Years
+
+It was round about Christmas 1917, and we were resting (?) at "Dirty
+Bucket Corner." The Christmas present we all had in view was a return
+to the line in front of Ypres.
+
+On the day before we were due to return the Christmas post arrived,
+and after the excitement had abated the usual "blueness" settled
+in--the craving for home comforts and "Blighty."
+
+My partners in the stretcher-bearing squad included a meek and mild man
+(I believe he was a schoolmaster before the war) and a Cockney from
+Seven Dials. We used to call him "Townie."
+
+Although the ex-schoolmaster would have had cause in more normal times
+to rejoice--for the post contained a letter telling him that he had
+become the father of a bonny boy--the news made him morbid.
+
+Of course, we all congratulated him. Meanwhile "Townie" was busy with
+a pencil and writing pad, and after a few minutes handed to the new
+parent a sheet of paper folded in half. The recipient unfolded it
+and looked at it for several seconds before the rest of us became
+interested and looked over his shoulder.
+
+The paper was covered with lines, circles, and writing that appeared to
+us like "double-Dutch."
+
+"What's this?" the father asked.
+
+"That's a map I drawed fer yer kid. It'll show him where the old
+pot and pan is when he's called up," and he concluded with this
+afterthought: "Tell 'im ter be careful of that ruddy shell-hole
+just acrost there. I've fallen in the perishin' thing twice this
+week."--_"Medico" (58th (London) Division), Clapham Common, S.W.11._
+
+
+Shell as a Hammer
+
+At one time the area just behind Vimy Ridge was plentifully sprinkled
+with enemy shells which had failed to explode. As these were considered
+a great source of danger they were indicated by "danger boards" nailed
+to pointed stakes driven into the ground.
+
+On one occasion, seeing a man engaged in so marking the resting-place
+of a "dud"--he was a cheerful Cockney, who whistled as he went about
+his job--I was much amused (though somewhat scared) to see him stop at
+a nearby shell, select a "danger board," pick up the shell, and proceed
+to use it as a hammer to drive the stake into the ground!--_H. S. A.
+(late Lieut., Suffolk Regt.), Glebe Road, Cheam._
+
+
+Sore Feet
+
+After the first battle of Ypres an old driver, whom we called
+"Krongie," had very bad feet, and one day reported sick at the
+estaminet where the M.O. held office.
+
+After the examination he ambled up the road, and when he was about 50
+yards away the M.O.'s orderly ran out and called: "Krongie, when you
+get to the column tell the farrier the M.O.'s horse has cast a shoe."
+
+"Krongie": "Ho, yus. You tell 'im ter give the blinkin' cheval a couple
+of number nines like he gave me for _my_ feet."--_P. Jones (R.H.A.), 6
+Ennis Road, N.4._
+
+
+My Sword Dance--by the C.O.
+
+A bitterly cold morning in winter, 1916, in the Ypres Salient. I was on
+duty at a gas alarm post in the front line when along came the colonel.
+
+He was the finest soldier and gentleman I ever had the pleasure to
+serve under (being an old soldier in two regiments before, I had
+experienced a few C.O.s). It was said he knew every man's name in the
+regiment. No officer dare start his own meal until every man of his
+company had been served. No fatigue or working party ever went up the
+line, no matter at what hour, without the colonel first inspected it.
+
+He had a mania for collecting spare ammunition, and more than once
+was seen taking up to the front line a roll of barbed wire over his
+shoulder hooked through his stick. To him every man was a son, and to
+the men's regret and officers' delight he soon became a general.
+
+This particular morning he approached me with "Good morning, Walker.
+You look cold. Had your rum?" To which I replied that I had, but it was
+a cold job remaining stationary for hours watching the wind.
+
+"Well," said the C.O., "do this with me." With that he started marking
+time at a quick pace on the duckboards and I did likewise. We kept it
+up for about two minutes, while others near had a good laugh.
+
+"Now you feel better, I know. Do this every ten minutes or so," he
+said, and away he went to continue his tour of inspection.
+
+My Cockney pal in the next bay, who, I noticed, had enjoyed the scene
+immensely, said, "Blimey, Jock, was he giving you a few lessons in
+the sword dance or the Highland Fling?"--_"Jock" Walker (late Royal
+Fusiliers), 29 Brockbank Road, Lewisham, S.E.13._
+
+
+A Big Bone in the Soup
+
+In Baghdad, 1917, "Buzzer" Lee and I were told off to do "flying
+sentry" round the officers' lines from 3 to 5 a.m. Well, we commenced
+our duty, and Buzzer suggested we visit the mess kitchen to see all was
+well, and in case there was anything worth "knocking off" (as he called
+it) in the way of char or scran (tea or bread and butter).
+
+The mess kitchen was in darkness, and Buzzer began scrounging around.
+After a while he said: "I've clicked, mate! Soup in a dixie!" By the
+light of a match he found a cup, removed the dixie lid, and took a cup
+of the "soup."
+
+"We're in the market this time, mate," said Buzzer, and took out a
+cupful for me.
+
+"It don't taste like Wood's down the New Cut," I said, doubtfully.
+
+He dipped the cup again and exclaimed: "'Ere, I've fahnd a big bone!"
+
+It was a new broom-head, however; it had been left in the dixie to soak
+for the night!--_G. H. Griggs (late Somerset L.I.), 3 Ribstone Street,
+Hackney, E.9._
+
+
+"I Shall have to Change Yer!"
+
+In the Ypres Salient in July 1915 Headquarters were anxious to know
+which German regiment was facing us. An immense Cockney corporal, who
+was particularly good on patrol, was instructed to secure a prisoner.
+
+[Illustration: "I shall have to take yer aht to-night and change yer."]
+
+After a night spent in No Man's Land he returned at dawn with a
+capture, an insignificant little German, trembling with fear, who stood
+about five foot nothing.
+
+Lifting him on to the fire-step and eyeing him critically, the
+corporal thus addressed him: "You won't do for our ole man; I shall
+have to take yer aht to-night and change yer!"--_S. Back, Merriams
+Farm, Leeds, near Maidstone._
+
+
+Scots Reveille
+
+Ours was the only kilted battalion in the division, and our bagpipes
+were often the subject of many humorous remarks from the other
+regiments.
+
+[Illustration: "There goes them perishin' 'toobs' agin."]
+
+On one occasion, while we were out resting just behind the line at
+Château de la Haye, we were billeted opposite a London regiment. Very
+early in the morning the bagpipes would sound the Scottish reveille--a
+rather long affair compared with the usual bugle call--and it did not
+please our London friends to be awakened in this manner.
+
+One morning while I was on early duty, and just as the pipers were
+passing, a very dismal face looked out of a billet and announced to his
+pals inside, "There goes them perishin' 'toobs' again."--_Arthur R.
+Blampied, D.C.M. (late London Scottish), 47 Lyndhurst Avenue, Streatham
+Hill, S.W.2._
+
+
+In the Negative
+
+A battalion of the London Regiment had been having a particularly
+gruelling time in the trenches, but some of the men were cheered with
+thoughts of impending leave. In fact, permission for them to proceed
+home was expected at any moment.
+
+At this time the Germans started a "big push" in another sector, and
+all leave was suddenly cancelled.
+
+An N.C.O. broke the news to the poor unfortunates in the following
+manner: "All you blokes wot's going on leaf, ain't going on leaf,
+'cause you're unlucky."
+
+In spite of the great disappointment, this way of putting it amused
+even the men concerned. The real Cockney spirit!--_S. C., Brighton._
+
+
+"An' That's All that 'Appened"
+
+Before going up the line we were stationed at Etaples, and were
+rather proud of our cook-house, but one day the colonel told the
+sergeant-major that he had heard some of the most unparliamentary
+language he had ever heard in his life emanating from the cook-house.
+
+The sergeant-major immediately called at the cook-house to find out the
+cause of the trouble, but our Cockney cook was very indignant. "What,
+_me_ Lord Mayor? [slang for 'swear']. No one's ever 'eard me Lord
+Mayor."
+
+"Don't lie to me," roared the sergeant-major. "What's happened here?"
+
+"Nuffin'," said the cook, "except that I slopped a dixie full of 'ot
+tea dahn Bill's neck. I said 'Sorry, Bill,' and Bill said 'Granted,
+'Arry,' an' that's all what's 'appened."--_Ryder Davies (late 1st Kent
+Cyclists, Royal West Kents), 20 Villa Road, S.W.9._
+
+
+Watching them "Fly Past"
+
+Our first big engagement was a counter-attack to recapture the trenches
+lost by the K.R.R.'s and R.B.'s on July 30, 1915, when "Jerry" used
+liquid fire for the first time and literally burned our chaps out.
+
+To get into action we had to go across open country in full view of
+the enemy. We began to get it "in the neck" as soon as we got to "Hell
+Fire Corner," on our way to Zillebeke Lake. Our casualties were heavy,
+caused by shell fire, also by a German aeroplane which was flying very
+low overhead and using its machine gun on us.
+
+My pal, Wally Robins (later awarded M.M., promoted corporal, and killed
+at Lens), our company humorist, was looking up at the 'plane when a
+shell landed, killing several men in front of him.
+
+As he fell I thought he too had caught it. I rushed to him anxiously
+and said, "Are you hurt?"
+
+This was his reply: "I should think I am. I wish they would keep their
+bloomin' aeroplanes out of the way. If I hadn't been looking up at that
+I shouldn't have fallen over that blinkin' barbed wire stake."--_E. W.
+Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Battn., D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace Road,
+Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+High Necks and Low
+
+After the first Battle of Ypres in 1914 the Scots Guards were being
+relieved by a well-known London regiment.
+
+A diminutive Cockney looked up at a six-foot Guardsman and asked him
+what it was like in the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "'Oo's neck?"]
+
+"Up to your neck in mud," said the Guardsman.
+
+"Blimey, oo's neck?" asked the little chap.--_H. Rogers (late 116th
+Battery, 1st Div. R.F.A.), 10 Ashley Road, Richmond, Surrey._
+
+
+Too Light--by One Rissole
+
+During the night before my Division (21st) attacked, on October 4,
+1917, my unit was in the tunnel under the road at "Clapham Junction,"
+near Hooge.
+
+Rations having failed to arrive, each man was given a rissole and a
+packet of chewing-gum. We went over about 6 a.m., and, despite rather
+severe losses, managed to push our line forward about 1,300 yards.
+
+When we were back in "rest" dug-outs at Zillebeke, our officer
+happening to comment on our "feed" prior to the attack, my mate said:
+"Yus. Blinkin' good job for old Jerry we never had two rissoles a
+man--we might have shoved him back to Berlin!"--_C. Hartridge, 92
+Lancaster Street, S.E.1._
+
+
+Psyche--"at the Barf!"
+
+I was billeting at Witternesse, near Aire, for a battery coming out of
+the line for rest and training prior to the August 1918 push.
+
+I was very anxious to find a place where the troops could have a
+much-needed bath. The only spot was a barn, in which were two rusty old
+iron baths.
+
+Further inspection showed that one was in use. On being asked who he
+was, the occupant stood up and replied in a Cockney voice: "Sikey at
+the Barf!"--_H. Thomas, "Ivydene," Herne Grove, East Dulwich, S.E.22._
+
+
+A Juggler's Struggles
+
+We were disembarking at Ostend in 1914. Each man was expected to carry
+as much stores as he could. Our Cockney Marine was struggling down the
+gangway--full marching order, rifle slung round his neck, kitbag under
+his arm, and a box in each hand.
+
+As he balanced the boxes we heard him mutter, "S'pose, if I juggle this
+lot orlright they'll poke annuver in my mouf."--_Thomas Bilson (late
+Colour-Sergeant, Royal Marines), 56 The Strand, Walmer, Kent._
+
+
+Almost a Wireless Story
+
+Sir Sidney Lawford was to inspect our wagon lines in Italy, and we had
+received notice of his coming. Consequently we had been up since about
+5 a.m. making things ship-shape.
+
+One of the fatigues had been picking up all the spare wire lying
+about--wire from hay and straw bales, telephone wire, barbed wire, wire
+from broken hop poles, miscellaneous wire of all sorts.
+
+Sir Sidney Lawford arrived about 11 a.m. with a number of his staff,
+dismounted ... and promptly tripped over a piece of wire. Imagine
+our chagrin. However, the feeling passed away when a Cockney driver
+(evidently one of the wire-collecting fatigue) said in a voice audible
+to everyone as he peeped from under the horse he was supposed to be
+grooming: "Blimey, if he ain't fallen over the only piece of blinking
+wire in Italy!"--_F. Praid (late Lieut., R.F.A., 41st Div.), 88a High
+Street, Staines._
+
+
+When the S.M. Got Loose
+
+We were behind the lines at Merville in 1914. It was raining hard and
+it was night. "Smudger" Smith, from Lambeth, was on night guard. The
+horses were pulling their pegs out of the mud and getting loose, and
+"Smudger" was having a busy time running around and catching them and
+knocking the pegs in again with a mallet.
+
+[Illustration: "Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"]
+
+The sergeant-major, with a waterproof sheet over his head, visited the
+lines. "Smudger," seeing something moving about in the dark, crept up,
+and muttered, "Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"--and down went the
+sergeant-major.--_W.S. (late Queen's Bays), 2 Winsover Road, Spalding._
+
+
+Mons, 1914--Not Moscow, 1812!
+
+In 1914 we of the 2nd Cavalry Brigade were going up to support the
+infantry somewhere near Mons, and when nearing our destination we saw
+several wounded being carried from the line.
+
+Following them, seemingly quite unconcerned, was an infantry transport
+driver, who cut a queer figure. He was wearing a stocking hat, and was
+mounted on an old mule. Thrown over the mule, with the tail-end round
+the mule's neck, was a German's blood-bespattered overcoat.
+
+[Illustration: "Napoleon's retreat from Moscow ain't in it wiv this!"]
+
+One of our troop addressed the rider thus: "Many up there, mate?"
+
+He answered: "Millions! You 'ave a go. We can't shift 'em. They've took
+root, I fink."
+
+He then dug both heels into the mule and, looking round with a bored
+expression, exclaimed: "Talk about Napoleon's blinkin' retreat from
+Moscow, it ain't ruddy well in it wiv this!"
+
+And he rode on.--_W. Baker (late 3rd Hussars), 35 Tunstall Road,
+Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+The S.M. knew "Mulese"
+
+During the Somme offensive in 1916 I was one of a party carrying
+rations up to the front line. We came upon a mule which was having a
+few pranks and pulling the chap who was leading it all over the road.
+
+This man turned out to be an old Cockney pal of mine in the East
+Surreys. I said, "Hello, Jim, what's the matter?"
+
+"Blimey," he replied, "'e won't do nuffink for me, so I'm taking 'im
+back to our sergeant-major, as 'e talks the mule langwidge."--_C. A.
+Fairhead (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 16 Council Cottages, Ford Corner,
+Yapton, Sussex._
+
+
+Lost: One Star
+
+We were on our way to the front line trenches one wet and dreary night
+when our subaltern realised that we were lost. He asked our sergeant
+if he could see the North Star. My Cockney pal, fed up, as we all
+were, turned to me and said: "Pass the word back and ask if anyone 'as
+got a Nawth Star in his pocket."--_H. J. Perry, 42 Wells House Road,
+Willesden Junction, N.W.10._
+
+
+Simpler than Sounding It
+
+After leaving Gallipoli in December 1915 our battalion (4th Essex) were
+in camp near the pyramids in Egypt.
+
+"Pro Tem." we reverted to peace-time routine, and brought the
+buglers into commission again. One bugler was making a rather rotten
+show at sounding the "fall-in"--his "lip" being out of practice, I
+suppose--when a bored Cockney roared out, "Go rahnd and tell 'em."--_H.
+Barlow, 5 Brooklands, Abbs Cross Lane, Hornchurch._
+
+
+Under the Cart
+
+The place was a rest billet, which we had just reached after a
+gruelling on the Somme. Time, 12.30 a.m., dark as pitch and pouring
+with rain.
+
+A despatch-rider arrived with an "urgent" message from H.Q., "Must have
+the number of your water-cart."
+
+Out of bed, or its substitute, were brought the regimental
+sergeant-major, the orderly-room clerk, and the quartermaster-sergeant
+(a director of a London shipping firm bearing his name). All the
+light we had was the end of a candle, and as the Q.M.S. was crawling
+in the mud under the water-cart trying to find the number the candle
+flickered, whereupon the Cockney sergeant-major exclaimed: "For
+Heaven's sake, stop that candle from flickerin', or our blinkin' staff
+will think we're signalling to Jerry!"
+
+The look on the Q.M.S.'s face as he sat in the mud made even the soaked
+despatch-rider laugh.
+
+"What's the number of your water-cart?" became a byword with the
+boys.--_W. J. Smallbone (late R.M.S., 56th Field Ambulance, 18th
+Division), 22 Stoneycroft Road, Woodford Bridge, Woodford Green, Essex._
+
+
+The Lion Laughed up his Sleeve
+
+I had been driving a lorry all day in the East African bush with a
+Cockney escort. When we "parked" for the night I invited the escort to
+sleep under cover in the lorry, as I was going to do. But he refused,
+saying proudly that he had slept in the open since he had landed in
+Africa. So, undressing, he proceeded to make the rim of the rear wheel
+his pillow, covering himself with a blanket and greatcoat.
+
+About 1 a.m. I was awakened by hearing someone climbing over the
+tail-board. Responding to my challenge the Cockney said: "It's all
+right. The blighter's been and pinched my blanket and greatcoat. It's a
+good job I had my shirt on." We found next morning that a lion had run
+off with them: about 100 yards away they lay, and one sleeve was torn
+out of the coat.--_H. J. Lake, 40a Chagford Street, N.W.1._
+
+
+The Carman's Sarcasm
+
+While our allies, the Portuguese, were holding part of the line to the
+left of Festubert, a Portuguese officer rode up on the most emaciated
+and broken-down old "crock" I had set eyes on.
+
+He dismounted and was looking round for somewhere to tether the horse,
+when one of our drivers, a Cockney carman in "civvy" life, cast a
+critical eye over the mount and bawled out, "Don't worry abaht tying it
+up, mate. _Lean it up agin this 'ere fence._"--_A. G. Lodge (Sergeant,
+25th Division Artillery), 12 Derinton Road, S.W.17._
+
+
+Burying a Lorry
+
+During the Battle of the Somme, near Ginchy, a R.A.S.C. motor-lorry ran
+off the main track in the darkness and got stuck in the mud. The driver
+came to our battery near by and asked for help, so six gunners and I
+volunteered and set out with shovels.
+
+On arriving at the scene, there was the motor-lorry almost buried to
+the top of the wheels. We all stood around surveying the scene in
+silence, wondering how best to make a start, when the Cockney member
+of the volunteer party burst out with: "Lummy, the quickest way out of
+this is to shovel some more blinkin' dirt on top, an' bury it."--_H.
+Wright (ex-Sig./Bdr., C/74 Bde., R.F.A.), 45 Colehill Lane, Fulham,
+S.W.6._
+
+
+Striking a Bargain
+
+During the battle of the Narrows at the Dardanelles (March 18, 1915) I
+was in charge of No. 3 stokehold in H.M.S. _Vengeance_. The front line
+of ships engaged consisted of _Irresistible_, _Ocean_, _Vengeance_, and
+an old French battleship, the _Bouvet_. The stokers off watch were the
+ambulance party and fire brigade.
+
+[Illustration: "Give us yer week's 'navy' and I'll let yer aht."]
+
+When the battle was at its height one of the fire brigade, a Cockney,
+kept us informed of what was going on, and this is the news we received
+down the ash hoist:
+
+"_Ocean_ and _Irresistible_ 'as gorn darn, the Froggy's gone up in
+smoke: our blinkin' turn next.
+
+"Pat, give us yer week's 'navy' (rum ration) and I'll lift this
+bloomin' 'atch (armoured grating) and let yer aht!"--_"Ajax," 23 King's
+Drive, Gravesend, Kent._
+
+
+Bugling in 'Indoostanee
+
+After the evacuation of Gallipoli a transport was conveying British
+troops to Egypt.
+
+The O.C. wanted a trumpeter or bugler to follow him around during the
+daily lifeboat parade and to sound the "Dismiss" at the end. The only
+one available was an Indian trumpeter, who had not blown a trumpet or
+bugle since 1914. He was ordered for the duty.
+
+On the first day, immediately after the inspection was over, the
+O.C. gave orders for the trumpeter to sound the "Dismiss." After the
+trumpeter had finished, the O.C., with a look of astonishment on his
+face, gasped, "What's that? I never heard it sounded like that before."
+
+Came a Cockney voice from the rear rank, "'E sounded it in 'Indoostanee,
+sir."--_M. C., Surrey._
+
+
+"For 'eaven's sake, stop sniffin'!"
+
+Our sector of the line at Loos was anticipating a raid by the Germans
+and the whole battalion was ordered to "stand to" all night.
+
+Double sentries were posted at intervals of a few feet with orders to
+report any suspicious shadows in No Man's Land.
+
+All eyes and ears were strained in an effort to locate any movement in
+the darkness beyond the parapet.
+
+Strict silence was to be maintained, and the guns had been ordered to
+hang fire so that we might give the Germans a surprise welcome if they
+came over.
+
+The ominous stillness was broken at last by a young Cockney saying
+to his pal standing with him on the fire-step: "For 'Eaven's sake,
+stop sniffin', Porky. How d'yer fink we'll 'ear Jerry if he comes
+acrorst?"--_C. J. Blake, 29a Collingbourne Road, Shepherd's Bush, W.12._
+
+
+Babes in the Salonika Wood
+
+I was with the Salonika Force on the Dorian front. One night while
+an important raid was on my platoon was told off to seize a big wood
+between the lines and make sure it was clear of Bulgars, who could
+otherwise have enfiladed the main raiding party.
+
+The orders were "absolute silence, and no firing unless the other side
+fires first." I halted my men behind a fold in the ground near the wood
+and called up two men and told them to creep forward and see if the
+wood was occupied.
+
+It was nasty work as the first news of any Bulgars would almost
+certainly have been a bayonet in the back from somebody perfectly
+concealed behind a tree.
+
+I asked them if the instructions were quite clear and one of them,
+Charlie, from Limehouse, whispered back:
+
+"Yessir! We're going to be the Babes in the Wood, and if the Wicked
+Uncles is out to-night we don't fire unless they fires first. Come on,
+George (to his companion), there's going to be some dirty work for the
+Little Robin Redbreasts to-morrer!"--_A. Forsyth (late Army Cyclist
+Corps), 65 St. Martin's Lane, W.C.2._
+
+
+Bringing it Home to Him
+
+For several months in 1917 matches were rationed in a Y.M.C.A.
+rest-camp canteen, somewhere in France. There entered during this time
+a war-worn Cockney, a drawn, tired look still in his eyes, and the mud
+of the trenches on his uniform and boots. He asked for cigarettes and
+matches, and was told there were no matches.
+
+"Wot, no matches? 'Ow am I goin' ter light me fags, miss?"
+
+"You see matches are rationed now," I said, "and the few we are allowed
+run out at once."
+
+With a weary sigh, as if a great truth had dawned upon him, he said
+pathetically:
+
+"Lumme, that do bring the war 'ome to a bloke, don't it, miss?"--_Miss
+H. Campbell, Pennerly Lodge, Beaulieu, Hants._
+
+
+After the Feast
+
+The company dinner on Christmas Day 1917 was eaten in a large barn at
+Ribemont, on the Somme, and before this extra special feast began an
+affable "old sweat," one Billy Williams, of London Town, volunteered
+for the clearing-up party.
+
+It was a long sitting and some considerable time before the men began
+to wander back to their billets, and it fell to the most capable of the
+orderlies to clear up the debris.
+
+This had just been accomplished to the satisfaction of the orderly
+officer when out of the barn strode old Billy carrying a dixie full of
+beer. "Where are you going with that, Williams?" asked the officer.
+
+Springing smartly to attention, and with a pained look upon his face,
+old Billy replied: "This 'ere, sir? Sick man in the 'ut, sir!"--_R. E.
+Shirley (late The London Regiment), 5 Staunton Road, Kingston, Surrey._
+
+
+Wait for the "Two Pennies, Please"
+
+Near the River Struma, on the Salonika front, in March 1917 our brigade
+H.Q. was on the extreme right of the divisional artillery and near a
+French artillery brigade.
+
+For the purpose of maintaining communication a French telephonist was
+quartered in our dug-out. Whenever he wished to get into communication
+with his headquarters he unmercifully thumped the field telephone and
+in an excitable voice called out: "_'Ullo, mon capitaine_," five or six
+times in half as many seconds.
+
+Greatly impressed by one of these sudden outbursts, the adjutant's
+batman--a typical Cockney--exclaimed in a hurt voice: "Nah then, matey,
+jest cool yerself a bit till the young lidy tells yer to put in yer
+two coppers!"--_F. G. Pickwick (301 Brigade R.F.A.), 100 Hubert Grove,
+Stockwell, S.W.9._
+
+
+The General Goes Skating
+
+One horribly wet day during the winter of 1915 I met the Brigadier
+paying his morning visit to the front line and accompanied him along
+my section of the trench. Entering one fire-bay, the gallant General
+slipped and sat down uncommonly hard in the mud.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ere, chum, get up; this ain't a skatin' rink."]
+
+Discipline stifled any desire on my part for mirth, but to my horror,
+the sentry in that bay, without turning away from his periscope, called
+over his shoulder in unmistakable Cockney accents: "'Ere, chum, get up;
+this ain't a blinkin' skatin' rink!"
+
+Fortunately the General's sense of humour was equal to the occasion,
+and he replied to the now horror-stricken sentry with an affable
+"Quite."--_"Company Commander," Orpington, Kent._
+
+
+"To Top Things Up"
+
+During the early part of 1916 a few picked men from the North Sea Fleet
+were sent on a short tour of the Western Front to get an accurate
+idea of the work of the sister Service. One or two of these men were
+attached to my company for a few days in January when we were at
+Givenchy--a fairly lively spot at that time. The morning after their
+arrival there was some pretty heavy firing and bombing, which soon died
+down to normal.
+
+Later in the day, as I was passing down the line, I asked one of our
+guests (an out-and-out Londoner) what he thought of things. He shook
+his head mournfully. "I thought the blighters was coming over after all
+that gun-fire this morning, sir," he said. "I been in a naval action; I
+been submarined; I been bombed by aeroplanes; and, blimey, I did 'ope
+I'd be in a bay'nit charge, just to top things up."--_L. V. Upward
+(late Capt. R.N.), 14 Lyndhurst Road, Hampstead, N.W.3._
+
+
+Luck in the Family
+
+A cockney R.A.S.C. driver had been knocked down and badly injured by a
+staff-officer's car.
+
+On recovering consciousness in hospital, he highly amused the doctor
+by exclaiming, "Well, me gran'farver was kicked by a Derby winner, me
+farver knew Dr. Crippen, an' 'ere's me gets a blighty orf a brass-'at's
+Rolls-bloomin'-Royce. It's funny 'ow luck runs in famblys!"--_J. F. C.,
+Langdon Park Road, N. 6._
+
+
+"I'm Drownded"
+
+We were going into the line in front of Cambrai, in November 1917, and
+were walking in single file. The night was pitch black. Word came down
+at intervals from the leading file, "'Ware wire," "'Ware shell-hole."
+
+My pal, a Cockney, was in front of me. Suddenly I heard a muffled
+curse--he had deviated and paid the penalty by falling into a
+particularly deep shell-hole filled with mud and water.
+
+I stumbled to the edge of the hole and peered down and saw his face. I
+asked him if he was all right, and back came the reply, "Blimey, I'm
+drownded, so let the missus know I died like a sailor."
+
+Three days later he did die ... like a soldier.--_Ex-Rfn. John S.
+Brown, 94 Masterman Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+Not a New World's Wonder
+
+The regiment had reached Hebuterne after marching from St. Amand, and a
+party of us was detailed to carry stuff up to the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "There's only seven wonders."]
+
+One of our number, a hefty Cockney, besides being in full marching
+order, had a bag of bombs and a couple of screw pickets. A sergeant
+then handed him some petrol tins. With a look of profound disgust, the
+Cockney dropped the tins and remarked, "Chuck it, mate; there's only
+seven wonders in this blinkin' world."--_W. G. H. Cox (late 16th London
+Regt.), 9 Longstaff Crescent, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+Lads of the Village
+
+While en route from the Western to the Italian front we were held up at
+an Italian wayside station and, hearing that we had some time to wait,
+our cook says, "Nah's our chance to make some tea."
+
+So we dragged our boiler on to the end of the platform, scrounged some
+wood, and soon had the fire going and the water on the boil. "Nah we
+will get the tea and sugar," says the cook. When we returned we found
+that the chimney of the boiler had disappeared, smoke and flames were
+roaring up, and the water was ruined by soot.
+
+An Italian soldier was standing by, looking on. "Somebody's pinched our
+chimbley," gasped the cook, "and I've got an idea that this Italian
+fellow knows somefing abaht it."
+
+Back came the reply from the Italian, in pure Cockney: "I ain't pinched
+yer chimbley, mate!"
+
+"What! yer speak our lingo?" says the cook. "What part of the Village
+do yer come from?"
+
+"Clerkenwell," was the reply.
+
+"Give us yer mitt," says the cook. "I'm from the same parish. And nah
+I knows that yer couldn't 'ave pinched our chimbley. It must have been
+one of them scrounging Cockneys."--_H. Howard, 26 Hanover Street,
+Islington, N.1._
+
+
+Before 1914, When Men Worked
+
+Night after night, for three weeks, with never a night off, we took
+ammunition up for the guns at Ypres in 1917. Sometimes we couldn't get
+back until 5 a.m. or 6 a.m.--and the day was spent feeding and grooming
+the horses, cleaning harness, and a hundred odd jobs besides.
+
+We had built a bit of a shack, and in this I was writing a letter home,
+and one of my drivers noticed my handwriting on the envelope.
+
+"Coo, Corp! You can't 'arf write! 'Ow did yer learn it?" he said.
+
+I told him I had been in an insurance office before I joined up.
+
+"Lumme!" he exclaimed, "did yer _work_ once, Corp?"--_David Phillips
+(late R.F.A.), The Ship Inn, Soham, near Ely, Cambridgeshire._
+
+
+Their Fatigue
+
+In August 1915, our Division was moved to the Loos area in preparation
+for the battle which began on September 25, and I well remember the
+long march which brought us to our destination--the mining village of
+Noeux-les-Mines, about a mile from Mazingarbe.
+
+We ended the hard and tiring journey at a spot where a huge slag-heap
+towered above our heads to a height of seventy or eighty feet. On our
+arrival here there were the usual fatigue parties to parade, and with
+everyone tired and weary this was an unthankful duty.
+
+The youngest Cockney in my section, who was always cheerful, hearing
+me detailing men for fatigue, shouted out, "Come on, mites; paride
+with spoons and mess-tins. The blinking fattygue party will shift this
+perishin' slag-heap from 'ere to Mazingarbe."--_Herbert W. Bassett
+(Cpl. attached 47th London Division), 41 Argyle Road, Sevenoaks, Kent._
+
+
+Teaching Bulgars the Three-card Trick
+
+At Butkova, on the right of Lake Doiran, in 1917, we had surprised the
+Bulgar and had pushed forward as far as the foot of the Belashitsa
+Mountains, the reserve position of the enemy.
+
+After a sharp encounter we retired, according to plan, and on the
+return to our lines we heard murmurings in a nullah to our right.
+
+[Illustration: "Find der lidy--dere you are--over yer go--under yer
+go--nah find 'er!"]
+
+Motioning to me and the section corporal, our platoon commander
+advanced cautiously towards the nullah and you can imagine our surprise
+when we discovered "Dido" Plumpton calmly showing the "three-card
+trick" to the two Bulgar prisoners he had been detailed to escort. He
+was telling his mystified audience: "Find der lidy--dere you are--over
+yer go--under yer go--_nah_ find 'er!"--_Alfred Tall (late 2nd East
+Kents), 204 Hoxton Street, N.1._
+
+
+
+
+3. HOSPITAL
+
+
+"Tich" Meets the King
+
+In a large ward in a military hospital in London there was a little
+Cockney drummer boy of eighteen years who had lost both legs from
+shell fire. In spite of his calamity and the suffering he endured
+from numerous operations for the removal of bone, he was one of the
+cheeriest boys in the ward.
+
+At that time many men in the ward had limbs amputated because of
+frost-bite, and it was quite a usual thing for a visitor to remark,
+"Have you had frost-bite?"
+
+Nothing made Tich so furious as the suggestion that he should have lost
+his limbs by any, to his mind, second-rate way. If he were asked, "Have
+you had frost-bite?" he would look up with disgust and reply, "Naow---a
+flea bit me!" If, however, he was asked, "Were you wounded?" he would
+smile and say, "Not 'arf!"
+
+A visit was expected from the King, and the Tommies kept asking Tich
+what he would say if the King said, "Have you had frost-bite?" "You
+wite!" said Tich.
+
+I was standing with the Sister near to Tich in his wheel-chair when the
+King approached. His Majesty at once noticed Tich was legless, and said
+in his kind way, "Well, my man, how are you getting on?"
+
+"Splendid, sir!" said Tich.
+
+"How did it happen?" asked the King.
+
+"Wounded, sir--shell," replied Tich, all smiles.
+
+Tich's opinion of the King soared higher than ever.---_M. A. Kennedy
+(late V.A.D., Royal Military Hospital, Woolwich), 70 Windmill Hill,
+Enfield, Middlesex._
+
+
+Putting the Lid on It
+
+It was "clearing day" at the 56th General Hospital, Wimereux. Nurses
+and orderlies were having a busy morning getting ready the patients who
+were going to Blighty. Nearly all of them had been taken out to the
+waiting ambulances except my Cockney friend in the bed next to mine,
+who had just had an arm amputated and was very ill.
+
+Two orderlies came down the ward bearing a stretcher with an oblong box
+fixed on to it (to prevent jolting while travelling). They placed it
+beside my friend's bed, and, having dressed him, put him in the box on
+the stretcher. Then a nurse wrapped him up in blankets, and after she
+had finished she said: "There you are. Feeling nice and comfortable?"
+
+"Fine," said he, "but don't put the lid on before I have kissed the
+orderly good-bye."--_E. C., Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Riddled in the Sands
+
+One of the finest exhibitions of Cockney spirit I saw during the war
+occurred in Mesopotamia after the Battle of Shaiba (April 1915), in
+which we had completely routed the Turkish army.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full of holes
+I'd be sure to sink."]
+
+We were busy evacuating the wounded in boats across the six-mile
+stretch of water which separated us from Basra. A sergeant who had
+been hit by no fewer than six machine-gun bullets was brought down in
+a stretcher to be put in one of the boats. As I superintended this
+manoeuvre he said to me: "Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full
+of holes I'd be sure to sink!"--_F. C. Fraser (Lieut.-Col., Ind. Med.
+Service), 309 Brownhill Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+Season!
+
+A cockney soldier, badly hit for the third time, was about to be
+carried once more on board the ambulance train at Folkestone. When the
+bearers came to his stretcher, one said to the other, "What's it say on
+his ticket?"
+
+"Season!" said a voice from the stretcher.--_Rev. A. T. Greenwood,
+Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+Where's the Milk and Honey?
+
+A medical Officer of a London division in Palestine was explaining to
+a dying Cockney in his field ambulance at Bethlehem how sorry he was
+that he had no special comforts to ease his last moments, when the man,
+with a cheery grin, remarked: "Oh, that's all right, sir. Yer reads as
+'ow this 'ere 'Oly Land is flowing with milk and 'oney; but I ain't
+seen any 'oney myself, and in our battery there's 15 men to a tin o'
+milk."--_E. T. Middleton, 32 Denmark Road, West Ealing, W.13._
+
+
+"Lunnon"
+
+He was my sergeant-major. Having on one occasion missed death literally
+by inches, he said coolly: "Them blighters can't 'it 'arf as smart as
+my missus when she's roused." I last saw him at Charing Cross Station.
+We were both casualties. All the way from Dover he had moaned one
+word--"Lunnon." At Charing Cross they laid his stretcher beside mine.
+He was half conscious. Suddenly he revived and called out, his voice
+boyish and jolly: "Good 'ole Charin' Crawss," and fell back dead.--_G.
+W. R., Norwich, Norfolk._
+
+
+Sparing the M.O.
+
+It was during some open warfare in France. The scene a small room full
+of badly wounded men; all the remainder have been hurriedly removed,
+or rather, not brought in here. There are no beds; the men lie on the
+floor close together.
+
+I rise to stretch my back after dressing one. My foot strikes another
+foot. A yell of agony--the foot was attached to a badly shattered thigh.
+
+An insistent, earnest chorus: "You _didn't_ 'urt him, sir. 'E often
+makes a noise like that."
+
+I feel a hand take mine, and, looking down, I see it in the grasp of a
+man with three gaping wounds. "It _wasn't_ your fault, sir," he says,
+in a fierce, hoarse whisper.
+
+And then I realise that not a soul in that room but takes it for
+granted that my mental anguish for my stupidity is greater than his own
+physical pain, and is doing his best to deaden it for me--one, at any
+rate, at great cost to himself.
+
+In whose ranks are the world's great gentlemen?--_"The Clumsy Fool,"
+Guy's Hospital, E.C._
+
+
+"Robbery with Violence"
+
+A Cockney soldier had his leg shattered. When he came round in hospital
+the doctors told him they had been obliged to take his leg off.
+
+"Taken my leg off? Blimey! Where is it? Hi, wot yer done wiv it? Fer
+'Eaven's sake, find my leg, somebody; it's got seven and a tanner in
+the stocking."--_S. W. Baker, 23 Trinity Road, Bedford._
+
+
+Seven His Lucky Number
+
+Scene: the plank road outside St. Jean. Stretcher-bearers bringing down
+a man whose left leg had been blown away below the knee. A man coming
+up recognises the man on the stretcher, and the following conversation
+ensues:
+
+"Hello, Bill!" Then, catching sight of the left leg: "Blimey! You ain't
+'arf copped it."
+
+The Reply: A faint smile, a right hand feebly pointing to the left
+sleeve already bearing _six_ gold stripes, and a hoarse voice which
+said, "Anuvver one, and seven's me lucky number."--_S. G. Wallis
+Norton, Norton House, Peaks Hill, Purley._
+
+
+Blind Man's Buff
+
+The hospital ship _Dunluce Castle_, on which I was serving, was taking
+the wounded and sick from Gallipoli. Among the wounded brought on board
+one evening was a man who was badly hurt about his face. Our M.O.
+thought the poor chap's eyes were sightless.
+
+Imagine our surprise when, in the morning, finding that his eyes were
+bandaged, he pulled himself to a sitting posture in bed, turned his
+head round and cried out, "S'y, boys, who's fer a gime of blind man's
+buff?"
+
+I am glad to say that the sight of one eye was saved.--_F. T. Barley,
+24, Station Avenue, Prittlewell, Southend._
+
+
+Self-Supporting
+
+After being wounded at Ypres in July 1917, I was being sent home. When
+we were all aboard, an orderly came round with life-belts.
+
+When he got to the next stretcher to me, on which lay a man who had
+his arm and leg in splints, he asked the usual question ("Can you
+look after yourself if anything happens going across?"), and received
+the faint answer: "Lumme, mate, I've enough wood on me to make a
+raft."--_A. E. Fuller (36th Battery R.F.A.), 21 Pendragon Road, Downham
+Estate, Bromley._
+
+
+In the Butterfly Division
+
+On arriving at the hospital at Dames Camiers, we were put to bed. In
+the next bed to mine was a young Cockney who had lost three fingers of
+his right hand and his left arm below the elbow.
+
+The hospital orderly came to take particulars of our wounds, etc.
+Having finished with me, he turned to the Cockney. Rank, name, and
+regimental number were given, and then the orderly asked, "Which
+division are you from?"
+
+"Why, the 19th," came the answer; and then, as an afterthought, "that's
+the butterfly division, yer know, but I've 'ad me blinkin' wings
+clipped."--_H. Redford (late R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+An Unfair Leg-Pull
+
+I was working in a surgical ward at a base hospital, and among the
+patients was a Tommy with a fractured thigh-bone. He had his leg in a
+splint and, as was customary in these cases, there was an extension at
+the foot-piece with a heavy weight attached to prevent shortening of
+the leg.
+
+This weight was causing him a good deal of pain, and as I could
+do nothing to alleviate it I asked the M.O. to explain to him the
+necessity for the extension. He did so and ended up by saying, "You
+know, we want your leg to be straight, old man."
+
+The Tommy replied: "Wot's the good of making that leg strite w'en
+the uvver one's bowed?"--_Muriel A. Batey (V.A.D. Nurse), The North
+Cottage, Adderstone Crescent, Newcastle-upon-Tyne._
+
+
+He Saw It Through
+
+In the big general hospital at Colchester the next bed to mine was
+occupied by a typical Cockney who was very seriously wounded. It was
+little short of marvellous that he was alive at all.
+
+Early one morning he became so ill that the hospital chaplain was sent
+to administer the Last Sacrament and the little Londoner's parents were
+telegraphed for.
+
+About nine o'clock he rallied a little, and apparently realised that
+the authorities had given him up as hopeless, for with a great effort
+he half-sat up and, with his eyes ablaze, cried: "Wot? You fink I'm
+goin' ter die? Well, you're all wrong! I've bin in this war since it
+started, an' I intends to be in it at the finish. So I just _won't_
+die, to spite yer, see?"
+
+His unconquerable spirit pulled him through, and he is alive--and
+well--to-day!--_A. C. P. (late 58th (London) Division), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+As Good as the Pictures
+
+In Salonika during 1916 I was taken to a field hospital, en route for
+the Base Hospital.
+
+All merry and bright when lying down, but helpless when perpendicular,
+was a comrade in the next bed to me. We were to be moved next day.
+
+I was interested in him, as he told me he belonged to "Berm-on-Sea,"
+which happens to be my birth-place. Well, close to our marquee were
+the dump and transport lines, which we could plainly see through the
+entrance to the marquee.
+
+Sister was taking our temperatures when we heard an explosion. Johnnie
+had "found" the dump. An officer ran through the marquee, ordering
+everyone to the dug-outs, and they promptly obeyed.
+
+I looked at Bermondsey Bill. He said: "We are beat. Let's stop and
+watch the fireworks."
+
+We were helpless on our feet. I tried to walk, but had to give it
+up. A new commotion then began, and Bill exclaimed: "Blimey, 'ere
+comes Flying Fox rahnd Tattenham Corner." It was a badly-wounded and
+panic-stricken mule. It dashed through our marquee, sent Sister's table
+flying, found the exit and collapsed outside.
+
+Sister returned (she was the right stuff) and said: "Hello, what's
+happened here? And you boys still in bed! Hadn't you better try and get
+to the dug-outs?"
+
+Bermondsey Bill said: "We'll stick it aht nah, Sister, an' fancy we're
+at the pictures."--_J. W. Fairbrass, 131 Sutton Dwellings, Upper
+Street, Islington, N.1._
+
+
+Room for the Comforter
+
+At Etaples in 1916 I was in a hospital marquee with nothing worse than
+a sprained ankle. A Y.M.C.A. officer was visiting us, giving a cheery
+word here and there, together with a very welcome packet of cigarettes.
+
+In the next cot to me was a young Cockney of the "Diehards," who had
+been well peppered with shrapnel. His head was almost entirely swathed
+in bandages, openings being left for his eyes, nose, and mouth.
+
+"Well, old chap," said the good Samaritan to him, "they seem to have
+got you pretty badly."
+
+"I'm all right, guv'nor--ser long as they leaves me an 'ole to put
+me fag in."--_A. E. Jeffreys (late 4th Q.O. Hussars), 24 Byne Road,
+Sydenham, S.E. 26._
+
+
+"War Worn and Tonsillitis"
+
+My son, Gunner E. Smith (an "Old Contemptible"), came home on leave in
+September 1918, and after a day or two had something wrong with his
+throat. I advised him to see the M.O.
+
+He went and came back saying, "Just look at this." The certificate said
+"War worn and tonsillitis."
+
+He went to the hospital, and was kept in for three weeks. The first
+time I went to see him, he said, "What do you think of it? A 1914 man,
+and knocked over by a kid's complaint."--_F. Smith, 23 Saunders Road,
+Plumstead, S.E.18._
+
+
+"... Fort I was in 'Ell"
+
+It was at the American General Hospital in Rouen. There was the usual
+noise created by chaps under anesthetic, swearing, shouting, singing,
+and moaning; but the fellow in the next bed to me had not stirred since
+they had brought him from the operating theatre many hours before.
+
+Suddenly he sat up, looked around him in amazement, and said, "Strike,
+I've bin a-lying 'ere fer abaht two 'ours afraid ter open me peepers.
+I fort I was in 'ell."--_P. Webb (late E. Surreys), 68 Rossiter Road,
+Balham, S.W.12._
+
+
+Pity the Poor Fly!
+
+Amongst my massage patients at one of the general hospitals was a very
+cheery Cockney sergeant, who had been badly damaged by shrapnel. In
+addition to other injuries he had lost an eye.
+
+One morning he was issued with a new eye, and was very proud of it.
+After admiring himself in a small mirror for a considerable time he
+turned to me and said, "Sister, won't it be a blinkin' sell for the fly
+who gets into my glass eye?"--_(Mrs.) A. Powell, 61 Ritherdon Road,
+S.W.17._
+
+
+Temperature by the Inch
+
+I was a patient in a general hospital in 1918, when a Cockney gunner
+was put into the bed next to mine. He was suffering from a severe form
+of influenza, and after ten days' treatment showed little sign of
+improvement.
+
+One evening the Sister was going her rounds with the thermometers.
+She had taken our friend's temperature and registered it on the chart
+hanging over his head. As she passed to the next bed he raised himself
+and turned round to read the result. Then he looked over to a Canadian
+in a bed in the far corner of the ward, and this dialogue ensued:
+
+Gunner: Canada!
+
+Canadian: Hallo!
+
+Gunner: Up agin.
+
+Canadian: Go on! How much?
+
+Gunner: 'Arf inch.--_E. A. Taylor (late 4th London Field Ambulance),
+Drouvin, The Chase, Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+"'Arf Price at the Pickshers!"
+
+On the way across Channel with a Blighty in 1917 I chummed up with a
+wounded Cockney member of the Sussex. His head was swathed in bandages.
+
+"Done one o' me eyes in altergevver," he confided lugubriously. "Any
+blinkin' 'ow," he added in cheerier tones, "if that don't entitle a
+bloke to 'arf price at the pickshers fer the rest of 'is blinkin'
+natural I don't know wot will do!"--_James Vance Marshall, 15, Manette
+Street, W.1._
+
+
+Twenty-four Stitches in Time
+
+During the 1918 reverses suffered by the Turks on various fronts large
+numbers of mules were captured and sent to the veterinary bases to be
+reconditioned, sorted, and shod, for issue to various units in need of
+them. It was no mean feat to handle and shoe the worst-tempered brutes
+in the world. They had been made perfect demons through privation.
+
+"Ninty," a shoeing-smith (late of Grange Road, Bermondsey), was laid
+out and savaged by a mule, and carried off to hospital. At night his
+bosom pal goes over to see how his "old china" is going on.
+
+"'Ow are ye, Ninty?"
+
+"Blimey, Ted, nineteen stitches in me figh an' five in me ribs.
+Ted--wot d'ye reckon they done it wiv? A sewin' machine?"--_A. C.
+Weekley (late Farrier Staff Sergeant, 20th Veterinary Hospital,
+Abbassair), 70 Denbigh Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+His Second Thoughts
+
+A Bluejacket who was brought into the Naval Hospital at Rosyth had had
+one of his legs blown off while he was asleep in his hammock. The late
+Mr. Thomas Horrocks Oppenshaw, the senior surgeon-in-charge, asked him
+what his first thought was when the explosion woke him up.
+
+"My first thought was 'Torpedoed, by gum!'"
+
+"And what did you think next?"
+
+"I think what I thought next was 'Ruddy good shot!'"--_H.R.A., M.D.,
+llford Manor, near Lewes, Sussex._
+
+
+Hats Off to Private Tanner
+
+The following story, which emphasises the Cockney war spirit in
+the most adverse circumstances, and how it even impressed our late
+enemy, was related to me by a German acquaintance whose integrity is
+unimpeachable.
+
+It was at a German prisoner-of-war clearing station in Douai during the
+summer of 1917, where wounded British prisoners were being cleared for
+prison-camp hospital.
+
+A number of wounded of a London regiment has been brought in, and
+a German orderly was detailed to take their names and particulars
+of wounds, etc. Later, looking over the orderly's list, the German
+sergeant-major in charge came across a name written by the orderly
+which was quite unintelligible to the sergeant-major.
+
+He therefore requested an intelligence officer, who spoke perfect
+English, to ask this particular man his name. The intelligence officer
+sought out the man, a Cockney, who had been severely wounded, and the
+following conversation took place.
+
+I.O.: You are Number ----?
+
+Cockney: Yussir.
+
+I.O.: What is your name?
+
+Cockney: Fourpence'a'penny.
+
+I.O.: I understand this is a term of English money, not a name.
+
+Cockney: Well, sir, I used to be called Tanner, but my right leg was
+took orf yesterday.
+
+The final words of the intelligence officer, as related to me, were:
+"I could have fallen on the 'begrimed ruffian hero's' neck and kissed
+him."--_J. W. Rourke, M.C. (ex-Lieut. Essex Regt.), 20 Mill Green Road,
+Welwyn Garden City._
+
+
+The Markis o' Granby
+
+Wounded at Sheria, Palestine, in November 1917. I was sent to the
+nearest railhead in a motor-ambulance. A fellow-passenger--also from a
+London battalion--was wounded very badly in both thighs. The orderly
+who tucked him up on his stretcher before the start asked him if he
+would like a drink.
+
+"No, thanks, chum--not nah," he replied; "but you might arsk the driver
+to pull up at the ole Markis o' Granby, and we'll all 'ave one!"
+
+I heard later that he died in hospital.--_C. Dickens (late 2/20th
+London Regiment), 18 Wheathill Road, Anerley, S.E.20._
+
+
+A One-Legged Turn
+
+Wounded about half an hour after the final attack on Gaza, I awoke to
+consciousness in the M.O.'s dug-out.
+
+"Poor old concert party," he said; "you're the fifth 'Ragamuffin' to
+come down."
+
+Eventually I found myself sharing a mule-cart with another wounded man,
+but he lay so motionless and quiet that I feared I was about to journey
+from the line in a hearse.
+
+The jolting of the cart apparently jerked a little life into him,
+for he asked me, "Got a fag, mate?" With a struggle I lighted my one
+remaining cigarette.
+
+After a while I asked him, "Where did you catch it, old fellow?"
+"Lumme," he replied, "if it ain't old George's voice." Then I
+recognised Sam, the comedian of our troupe.
+
+"Got it pretty rotten in the leg," he added.
+
+"Will it put paid to your comedy act, Sammy?" I asked.
+
+"Dunno," he replied with a sigh in his voice--"I'm tryin' to fink 'art
+a one-legged step dance."--_G. W. Turner (late 11th London Regt.), 10
+Sunny View, Kingsbury, N.W.9._
+
+
+
+
+4. HIGH SEAS
+
+
+The Skipper's Cigar
+
+Bradley (a Deptford flower-seller before joining up) was the "comic" of
+the stokers' mess deck.
+
+He was always late in returning from shore leave. One Monday morning
+he returned half an hour "adrift," and was promptly taken before the
+skipper.
+
+The skipper, a jovial old sort, asked him his reason for being adrift
+again, and Bradley replied:
+
+"Well, sir, Townsend and me were waiting for the liberty boat, and I
+was telling him that if ever I sees the skipper round Deptford I'll let
+him 'ave a 'bob' bunch of flowers for a 'tanner,' and we looked round
+and the blinkin' boat was gorne."
+
+The skipper smiled and dismissed him. On Christmas Day Bradley received
+a packet containing a cigar in it, with the following written on the
+box:
+
+"For the best excuse of the year.--F. H. C., Capt."
+
+I saw Bradley three years ago and he told me he still had that cigar in
+a glass case with his medals.--_F. H. (late Stoker, R.N.), 18 Little
+Ilford Lane, Manor Park, E.12._
+
+
+Breaking the Spell
+
+We were in a twelve-inch gun turret in a ship during the Dogger Bank
+action. The ship had been hit several times and big explosions had
+scorched the paint and done other damage. There came a lull in the
+firing, and with all of us more or less badly shaken there was a queer
+silence. Our captain decided to break it. Looking round at the walls
+of the turret he remarked in a Cockney, stuttering voice: "Well, lads,
+this blinking turret couldn't 'arf do with a coat of paint."--_J. Bone,
+84 Victoria Road, Surbiton._
+
+
+A V.C.'s Story of Friendship
+
+A transport packed with troops and horses for the Dardanelles was
+suddenly hailed by a German cruiser and the captain was given a few
+minutes in which to abandon ship.
+
+One young soldier was found with his arms round his horse's neck,
+sobbing bitterly, and when ordered to the boats he stubbornly refused
+to move. "Where my white-faced Willie goes _I_ goes," he said proudly.
+
+His loyalty to his dumb friend was rewarded, for the German cruiser
+fired twice at the transport, missed each time, and before a third
+effort British destroyers were on the scene to chase her away. It
+was then the young soldier had the laugh over his friends, for they
+in many cases arrived back on the ship half frozen and soaked to the
+skin!--_A Colonel, who wishes to remain anonymous: he holds the V.C.,
+D.S.O., and M.C._
+
+
+The Stoker Sums it Up
+
+I was on a large transport (normally a freighter), which had just
+arrived at a port on the East African coast, very rusty, and with a
+very un-naval-looking crew. We were taken in charge by a very small but
+immaculate gun-boat.
+
+Orders were shouted to us by megaphone, and our men were leaning over
+the side watching the gun-boat rather enviously, when a Poplar stoker
+came up from below for a "breather," and summed up his mates' feelings
+in eight words.
+
+[Illustration: "Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?"]
+
+Cupping his hands about his mouth, he shouted in a voice of thunder:
+"_Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?_"--_R. N. Spence (late Lieutenant,
+R.N.V.R.), 214 Croydon Road, Beckenham._
+
+
+Channel Swimming his Next Job
+
+During the war I had to fly a machine over to France. I had as
+passenger a Cockney Tommy who had recently transferred from the
+infantry to the R.F.C., and was joining his unit overseas.
+
+Half-way over the Channel my engine failed and I glided down towards
+the nearest boat I could see. The landing was not very successful; the
+under-carriage struck the crest of a wave and the aeroplane hit the
+water almost vertically.
+
+We were both thrown out, my passenger being somewhat badly knocked
+about in the process. We clung to the almost submerged wreckage and
+gazed hopefully towards the vessel I had sighted. She continued on her
+course, however.
+
+[Illustration: "I know me way across nah!"]
+
+The machine soon sank and we were left bobbing about in our life-belts.
+Things began to look far from bright, especially as my Cockney observer
+was in a pretty bad way by now. Suddenly the sun broke through the
+clouds, and the white cliffs of Grisnez, about eight miles away, stood
+out clearly.
+
+"What's them hills, sir?" asked Tommy.
+
+"Cape Grisnez, where Burgess landed after his Channel swim," I replied.
+
+"Blimey," he said, "if we ever gets out of this perishing mess, and I
+can't get me old job back after the war, I'll be a blooming Channel
+swimmer. I know the ruddy way across nah."--_"Pilot R.F.C.," London,
+W.1._
+
+
+It _Was_ a Collapsible Boat
+
+I was one of the survivors of the transport ship _Leasowe Castle_.
+Just before she took her final plunge, I was standing on deck when an
+empty boat was seen drifting near by. Our section officer called for
+swimmers, and five or six men went overboard in a jiffy and brought the
+boat alongside.
+
+There was a bit of a scuffle to get over the rail and into the boat,
+and one man jumped straight into her from a height of about thirty
+feet. To our dismay he went clean through--it was a collapsible boat!
+
+No sooner had this happened than a typical Cockney voice said: "Blimey,
+he's got the anchor in his pocket, I'll bet yer!"--_G. P. Gregory (late
+272 M.G. Company), 107 Tunkar Street, Greenwich._
+
+
+Luck in Odd Numbers
+
+We were on board H.M.S. _Sharpshooter_, doing patrol off the Belgian
+coast. The signalman on watch, who happened to be a Cockney, suddenly
+yelled out: "Aeroplane on the starboard bow, sir."
+
+The "old man," being fairly tired after a night of rain, said: "All
+right, it's only a friendly going back home."
+
+About two minutes later the plane dropped three bombs, the last of
+which was much too close to be comfortable.
+
+After our friend the signalman had wiped the splash off his face he
+turned round to the First Lieutenant and casually remarked: "Strike!
+It's a thundering good job he wasn't hostile or he might have hit
+us."--_R. Walmsley, D.S.M., 47 Watcombe Road, South Norwood, S.E.25._
+
+
+"Your Barf, Sir!"
+
+We were a mixed crowd on board the old _Archangel_ returning "off
+leave" from Southampton to Havre on the night of January 6, 1917. The
+sea was calm, and a moon made conditions ideal for Jerry's "skimmers."
+
+When we were well under way I chummed up with a typical son of the Mile
+End Road, one of the Middlesex men, and we talked for some time whilst
+watching the long, white zig-zag wake.
+
+Then he suggested looking for a "kip." After nosing around several dark
+corners, a strip of carpet along the alley between the first-class
+cabins appealed to us, and quietly unslinging kit and putting our packs
+for a pillow, we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. During the
+process my pal jerked his thumb towards the closed doors and whispered
+"Orficers."
+
+How long we had been asleep I don't know, but we were rudely awakened
+by a dull booming thud and a sound of splintering wood, and at the same
+time we were jolted heavily against the cabins. We hurriedly scrambled
+to our feet, looked at each other (no need to ask what had happened!),
+then grabbed our kit and made for the deck.
+
+As my companion passed the last cabin he banged on the door with his
+fist and called out: "Oi, yer barf'll be ready in a minute, sir!"--_A.
+E. Ulyett, 41 Smith Terrace, King's Road, Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+"Mind My Coat"
+
+Middle watch, H.M.S. _Bulldog_ on patrol off the Dardanelles: a dirty
+and a black night. A shout of "Man overboard!" from the fore-gun
+crew.... We located an A.B. in the water, and with a long boat-hook
+caught his coat and pulled him towards the boat. As he drew nearer he
+cried: "Don't pull so bloomin' hard; you'll tear my blinkin' coat!"
+
+Then we knew it was our "Ginger," from Poplar. Now "Ginger" has the
+life-saving medal. A few weeks after his ducking the ship struck a
+mine and the after-part went west: "Ginger" was discovered in the
+water, having gone in after a wounded sub-lieutenant who had been blown
+overboard.--_Henry J. Wood, D.S.M., 19 Gracechurch Street, E.C.3._
+
+
+"Wot's the Game--Musical Chairs?"
+
+It was a bitterly cold day in December, somewhere in the North Sea.
+A section of mine-sweepers were engaged clearing an area well sown
+by Jerry's submarines. Suddenly the expected happened, and in a few
+minutes one of the sweepers was settling down fast by the stern.
+
+Those who did not "go west" in the explosion were with difficulty
+picked up; among them was a Cockney stoker rating. He arrived on board,
+wet, cold, and pretty well "pumped," and the bo'sun's peg of rum had
+almost disappeared between his chattering teeth when there was another
+explosion, and once again he was in a sinking ship.
+
+His reply to the order "abandon ship," which he had heard for
+the second time within half an hour, was: "Wot blinkin' game's
+this--musical chairs?"--_H. Waterworth, 32 Grasmere Road, Muswell Hill,
+N.10 (late Engineer-Lieutenant, R.N.R. (retired))._
+
+
+A Voice in the Dark
+
+Dawn of a day in March 1917 found Submarine F3 on patrol near the
+Terschelling lightship. As we broke surface two German destroyers were
+seen only a few hundred yards away. We immediately dived again, and
+shortly afterwards the depth charges began to explode. Lower and lower
+we went until we touched the bottom.
+
+Bangs to the right of us, bangs to the left of us, bangs above us--then
+one glorious big bang and out went the lights.
+
+Deadly silence, and then out of the darkness came the voice
+of our Battersea bunting-tosser--"Anyone got six pennorth o'
+coppers?"--_Frederick J. H. Alsford, 78 North Street, S.W.4._
+
+
+Why the Stoker Washed
+
+H.M.Q. ship 18 was sinking sixty miles off the French coast as the
+result of gun-fire, after destroying a German submarine.
+
+After getting away we had a hurried call-over and found that a Cockney
+fireman was missing. We hailed the ship which seemed about to take the
+plunge any minute, and at last the stoker appeared, spotlessly clean
+and dressed in "ducks."
+
+He had to jump and swim for it. As we hauled him to our boat we asked
+him why he had waited to clean himself.
+
+"Well," he explained, "if I am going to hell there's no need to let the
+blighter know I'm a stoker."--_Wm. C. Barnaby (late Chief Coxswain,
+R.N.), 7 Seville Street, Knightsbridge, S.W.1._
+
+
+Accounts Rendered
+
+The First-Lieutenant of a warship I was in, though a first-class
+sailor, had no great liking for clerical work, consequently the ship's
+store-books were perhaps not quite as they should have been.
+
+[Illustration: "Well, _that_ clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."]
+
+He therefore got an Able Seaman (who had been a London clerk in civil
+life) to give him a hand in his "off watches" in putting the books in
+order.
+
+Shortly afterwards the ship stopped a torpedo and sank in eight
+minutes. Before the First-Lieutenant had very much time to look round
+he found himself in the "ditch."
+
+As he was clambering out of the water on to the bottom of an upturned
+boat, he saw his "Chief Accountant" climbing up the other side, and
+the first thing he did was to reach out and shake hands with the A.B.
+across the keel of the boat, at the same time remarking, "Well, _that_
+clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."--_John Bowman (Able Seaman,
+R.N.V.R.), 19 Handel Mansions, W.C.1._
+
+
+An Ocean Greyhound
+
+On one occasion when the _Diligence_ was "somewhere in the North Sea,"
+shore leave was granted.
+
+One of the sailors, a Cockney, returned to the ship with his jumper
+"rather swollen." The officer of the watch noticed something furry
+sticking out of the bottom of his jumper, and at once asked where he
+had got it from, fearing, probably, that he had been poaching.
+
+[Illustration: "... To Nurse it Back to 'Ealth and Strength."]
+
+The Cockney thought furiously for a moment and then said: "I chased it
+round the Church Army hut, sir, until it got giddy and fell over, and
+so I picked it up and brought it aboard to nurse it back to 'ealth and
+strength."--_J. S. Cowland, 65 Tylney Road, Forest Gate, E.7._
+
+
+Margate In Mespot.
+
+October 29, 1914--England declares war on Turkey and transports laden
+with troops sail from Bombay.
+
+One evening, within a week, these transports anchor off the flat
+Mesopotamian coast at the top of the Persian Gulf. In one ship, a
+county regiment (95 per cent. countrymen, the remainder Cockney) is
+ordered to be the first to land. H.M.S. _Ocean_ sends her cutters and
+lifeboats, and into these tumble the platoons at dusk, to be rowed
+across a shallow "bar."
+
+[Illustration: "Wot price this fer Margate?"]
+
+Under cover of an inky darkness they arrive close to the beach by
+midnight. It is very cold, and all feel it the more because the kit
+worn is shorts and light khaki shirts.
+
+In the stone-cold silence a whisper passes from boat to boat--"_Remove
+puttees; tie boots round the neck; at signal, boats to row in until
+grounded; platoons to disembark and wade ashore_."
+
+So a shadowy line of strange-looking waders is dimly to be seen
+advancing through the shallow water and up the beach--in extended
+order, grim and frozen stiff. As dawn breaks they reach the sandy
+beach, and a few shots ring out from the distant Fort of Fas--but
+no one cares. Each and all are looking amazedly at the grotesque
+appearance of the line--silent, miserable figures, boots wagging round
+their necks, shorts rolled as high as possible, while their frozen
+fingers obediently cling to rifles and ammunition.
+
+It is too much for one soul, and a Cockney voice calls out: "'Ere, wot
+price this fer Margate?"
+
+The spell is broken. The Mesopotamian campaign begins with a great
+laugh!--_John Fiton, M.C., A.F.C., 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden City,
+Herts._
+
+
+Urgent and Personal!
+
+The ss. _Oxfordshire_, then a hospital ship, was on her way down from
+Dar-es-salaam to Cape Town when she received an S.O.S. from H.M.T.
+_Tyndareus_, which had been mined off Cape Agulhas, very near the spot
+where the famous _Birkenhead_ sank.
+
+The _Tyndareus_ had on board the 26th (Pioneer) Battalion, Middlesex
+Regiment, under the command of Colonel John Ward, then on their way to
+Hong Kong.
+
+As the hospital boat drew near it was seen that the _Tyndareus_ was
+very low in the water, and across the water we could hear the troops
+singing "Tipperary" as they stood lined up on the decks.
+
+The lifeboats from both ships were quickly at work, every patient
+capable of lending a hand doing all he could to help. Soon we had
+hundreds of the Middlesex aboard, some pulled roughly up the side,
+others climbing rope-ladders hastily thrown down. They were in various
+stages of undress, some arriving clad only in pants.
+
+On the deck came one who, pulled up by eager hands, landed on all fours
+with a bump. As he got up, hands and toes bleeding from contact with
+the side of the vessel, I was delighted to recognise an old London
+acquaintance. The following dialogue took place:
+
+MYSELF: Hallo, Bill! Fancy meeting you like this! Hurt much?
+
+BILL: Not much. Seen Nobby Clark? Has he got away all right?
+
+MYSELF (_not knowing Nobby Clark_): I don't know. I expect so; there
+are hundreds of your pals aboard.
+
+BILL: So long. See you later. Must find Nobby; he collared the "kitty"
+when that blinking boat got hit!--_J. P. Mansell (late) 25th Royal
+Fusiliers._
+
+
+Victoria! (Very Cross)
+
+While I was an A.B. aboard H.M.S. _Aboukir_ somewhere in the North Sea
+we received a signal that seven German destroyers were heading for us
+at full speed. We were ordered at the double to action stations.
+
+My pal, a Cockney, weighing about 18 stone, found it hard to keep up
+with the others, and the commander angrily asked him, "Where is your
+station?"
+
+[Illustration: "Where's your station?"
+
+"Victoria--if I could only get there."]
+
+To which the Cockney replied, "Victoria--if I could only get
+there."--_J. Hearn, 24 Christchurch Street, S.W.3._
+
+
+He Saw the Force of It
+
+In February 1915 we beat out our weary patrol near the Scillies. Our
+ship met such heavy weather that only the bravest souls could keep a
+cheery countenance. Running into a growing storm, and unable to turn
+from the racing head seas, we beat out our unwilling way into the
+Atlantic.
+
+Three days later we limped back to base with injured men, hatches stove
+in, winch pipes and boats torn away. Our forward gun was smashed and
+leaned over at a drunken angle.
+
+Early in the morning the crew were taking a well-earned rest, and the
+decks were deserted but for the usual stoker, taking a breath of air
+after his stand-by watch. A dockyard official, seeing our damage, came
+on board, and, after viewing the wrecked gun at close quarters, turned
+to the stoker with the remark: "Do you mean to say that the sea smashed
+a heavy gun like that, my man?"
+
+The stoker, spitting with uncanny accuracy at a piece of
+floating wood overside, looked at the official: "Nah," he said,
+"it wasn't the blinking sea; the ryne done it!"--_A. Marsden
+(Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander, R.N.), Norbrook Cottage, Leith Park
+Road, Gravesend._
+
+
+New Skin--Brand New!
+
+Two mines--explosion--many killed--hundreds drowned. We were sinking
+fast. I scrambled quickly out of my hammock and up the hatchway. On
+deck, leaning against the bulkhead, was a shipmate, burned from head
+to foot. More amazing than fiction was his philosophy and coolness as
+he hailed me with, "'Cher, Darby! Got a fag? I ain't had a 'bine since
+Pa died." I was practically "in the nude," and could not oblige him.
+Three years later I was taking part at a sports meeting at Dunkirk when
+I was approached by--to me--a total stranger. "What 'cher, Darby--ain't
+dead yet then. What! Don't you remember H.M.S. _Russell_? Of course
+I've altered a bit now--new skin--just like a two-year-old--brand new."
+Brand new externally, but the philosophy was unaltered.--_"Darby," 405
+Valence Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+A Zeebrugge Memory
+
+During the raid on Zeebrugge, one of our number had his arms blown
+away. When things quietened a little my chum and I laid him on a mess
+table and proceeded to tend his wounds. My chum tried to light the
+mess-deck "bogey" (fire), the chimney of which had been removed for the
+action. After the match had been applied, we soon found ourselves in a
+fog. Then the wounded man remarked: "I say, chum! If I'm going to die,
+let's die a white man, not a black 'un." The poor fellow died before
+reaching harbour.--_W. A. Brooks, 14 Ramsden Road, N.11._
+
+
+Another Perch in the Roost
+
+On the morning of September 22, 1914, when the cruisers _Aboukir_,
+_Hogue_, and _Cressy_ were torpedoed, we were dotted about in the
+water, helping each other where possible and all trying to get some
+support. When one piece got overloaded it meant the best swimmers
+trying their luck elsewhere.
+
+Such was my position, when I saw a piece of wreckage resembling a
+chicken coop, large enough to support four men. I reached it just ahead
+of another man who had been badly scalded.
+
+We were both exhausted and unable to help another man coming towards
+us. He was nearly done, and my companion, seeing his condition, shouted
+between breaths: "Come along, ole cock. Shake yer bloomin' feavers.
+There's a perch 'ere for anover rooster."
+
+Both were stokers on watch when torpedoed, and in a bad state from
+scalds. Exposure did the rest. I was alone, when picked up.--_W.
+Stevens (late R.M.L.I.), 23 Lower Range Road, Denton, near Gravesend._
+
+
+Uncomfortable Cargo
+
+(_A 12-in. shell weighs about 8 cwt. High explosives were painted
+yellow and "common" painted black._)
+
+In October 1914 H.M.S. _Venerable_ was bombarding the Belgian coast
+and Thames tugs were pressed into service to carry ammunition to ships
+taking part in the bombardment.
+
+The sea was pretty rough when a tug came alongside the _Venerable_
+loaded with 12-in. shells, both high explosive and common. Deck hands
+jumped down into the tug to sling the shells on the hoist. The tug
+skipper, seeing them jumping on the high explosives, shouted: "Hi!
+dahn there! Stop jumping on them yaller 'uns"; and, turning to the
+Commander, who was leaning over the ship's rail directing operations,
+he called out: "Get them yaller 'uns aht fust, guvnor, or them blokes
+dahn there 'll blow us sky high."--_A. Gill, 21 Down Road, Teddington,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+Good Old "Vernon"
+
+Several areas in the North Sea were protected by mines, which came from
+the torpedo depot ship, H.M.S. _Vernon_. The mines floated several feet
+below the surface, being kept in position by means of wires attached to
+sinkers.
+
+In my submarine we had encountered very bad weather and were uncertain
+of our exact position. The weather got so bad that we were forced to
+cruise forty feet below the surface.
+
+Everything was very still in the control room. The only movements were
+an occasional turn of the hydroplanes, or a twist at the wheel, at
+which sat "Shorty" Harris, a real hard case from Shadwell.
+
+Suddenly we were startled by a scraping sound along the port side.
+Before we could put our thoughts into words there came an ominous bump
+on the starboard side. _Bump!_ ... _bump!_ ... seven distinct thuds
+against the hull. No one moved, and every nerve was taut. Then "Shorty"
+broke the tension with, "Good old _Vernon_, another blinkin' dud."--_T.
+White, 31 Empress Avenue, Ilford._
+
+
+Any Time's Kissing Time!
+
+A torpedo-boat destroyer engaged on transport duty in the Channel in
+1916 had been cut in two by collision whilst steaming with lights
+out. A handful of men on the after-part, which alone remained afloat,
+were rescued after several hours by another destroyer, just as the
+after-part sank.
+
+[Illustration: "Ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss me?"]
+
+A howling gale was raging and some of the survivors had to swim for it.
+
+As the first swimmer reached the heaving side of the rescuing ship he
+was caught by willing hands and hauled on board.
+
+When he got his breath he stood up and, shaking himself to clear the
+water somewhat from his dripping clothes, looked around with a smile
+at the "hands" near by and said: "Well, ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss
+me?"--_J. W., Bromley, Kent._
+
+
+The Fag End
+
+The captain of the troopship _Transylvania_ had just called the famous
+"Every man for himself" order after the boat had received two torpedoes
+from a submarine.
+
+The nurses had been got off safely in a boat, but our own prospects of
+safety seemed very remote. Along came a Cockney with his cigarettes and
+the remark, "Who'll 'ave a fag afore they get wet?"--_A. W. Harvey, 97
+Elderfield Road, Clapton, E.5 (late 10th London Regiment)._
+
+
+"Spotty" the Jonah
+
+On board the s.s. _Lorrento_ in 1917 with me was one "Spotty" Smith,
+A.B., of London. He had been torpedoed five times, and was reputed
+to be the sole survivor on the last two occasions. Such a Jonah-like
+reputation brought him more interest than affection from sailormen.
+
+Approaching Bizerta--a danger spot in the South Mediterranean--one dark
+night, all lights out, "Spotty" so far forgot himself as to strike
+matches on deck. In lurid and forcible language the mate requested him
+"not to beat his infernal record on this ship."
+
+"Spotty," intent on turning away wrath, replied, "S'elp me, sir, I've
+'ad enough of me heroic past. This next time, sir, I made up me mind
+to go down with the rest of the crew!"--_J. E. Drury, 77 Eridge Road,
+Thornton Heath._
+
+
+He Just Caught the Bus!
+
+After an arduous spell of patrol duty, our submarine had hove to to
+allow the crew a much-needed breather and smoke. For this purpose only
+the conning-tower hatch was opened so as to be ready to submerge, if
+necessity arose, with the minimum of delay.
+
+Eager to take full advantage of this refreshing interlude, the crew
+had emerged, one by one, through the conning-tower and had disposed
+themselves in sprawling attitudes around the upper deck space, resting,
+reading, smoking.
+
+Sure enough, soon the alarm was given, "Smoke seen on the horizon."
+
+The order "Diving stations" was given and, hastily scuttling down the
+conning-tower, the crew rapidly had the boat submerging, to leave only
+the periscope visible.
+
+The commander kept the boat slowly cruising with his periscope trained
+on the approaching smoke, ready for anything. Judge of his amazement
+when his view was obscured by the face of "Nobby" Clark (our Cockney
+A.B.) at the other end of the periscope. Realising at once that "Nobby"
+had been locked out (actually he had fallen asleep and had been rudely
+awakened by his cold plunge), we, of course, "broke surface" to collect
+frightened, half-drowned "Nobby," whose only ejaculation was: "Crikey!
+I ain't half glad I caught the ole bus."--_J. Brodie, 177 Manor Road,
+Mitcham, Surrey._
+
+
+Dinner before Mines!
+
+"Somewhere in the North Sea" in 1917, when I was a stoker on H.M.S.
+_Champion_, there were plenty of floating mines about.
+
+One day, several of us were waiting outside the galley (cook house) for
+our dinners, and the cook, a man from Walworth, was shouting out the
+number of messes marked on the meat dishes which were ready for the men
+to take away.
+
+He had one dish in his hand with no number marked on it, when a stoker
+rushed up and shouted: "We nearly struck a mine--missed it by inches,
+Cookey." But Cookey only shouted back: "Never mind about blinkin' mines
+nah; is this _your_ perishin' dish with no tally on it?"--_W. Downs
+(late stoker, R.N.), 20 Tracey Street, Kennington Road, S.E._
+
+
+A Philosopher at Sea
+
+We were a helpless, sorry crowd, many of us with legs in splints, in
+the hold of a "hospital" ship crossing from Boulogne. The boat stopped
+dead.
+
+"What are we stopping for, mate?" one man asked the orderly.
+
+"The destroyers wot's escortin' of us is chasin' a German submarine.
+I'm just a-goin' on deck agin to see wot's doin'." As he got to the
+ladder he turned to say: "Nah, you blokes: if we gits 'it by a torpedo
+don't go gettin' the ruddy wind up an' start rushin' abaht tryin' ter
+git on deck. It won't do yer wounds no bloomin' good!"--_E. Bundy (late
+L/Corporal, 1/5th L.F.A., 47th Division), 4 Upton Gardens, Barkingside,
+Ilford, Essex._
+
+
+Extra Heavyweight
+
+Amongst the crew of our mine-sweeper during the war "Sparks," the
+wireless operator, was a hefty, fat chap, weighing about 18 stone. One
+day while clearing up a mine-field, laid overnight by a submarine, we
+had the misfortune to have four or five of the mines explode in the
+"sweep."
+
+The explosion shattered every piece of glass in the ship, put the
+engines out of action, and nearly blew the ship out of the water.
+
+"Bill," one of our stokers--a Cockney who, being off watch, was asleep
+in his bunk--sat up, yawned, and exclaimed in a sleepy voice: "'Ullo,
+poor ole 'Sparks' fallen out of 'is bunk again! 'E'll 'urt 'isself one
+of these days!"--_R.N.V.R., Old Windsor, Berks._
+
+
+Three Varieties
+
+The boat on which I was serving as a stoker had just received two new
+men as stokers.
+
+On coming down the stokehold one of them seemed intent on finding out
+what different perils could happen to him.
+
+After he had been inquiring for about an hour a little Cockney,
+rather bored, got up and said, "Now look here, mate. The job ain't
+so bad, looking at it in this light--you've three ways of snuffing
+it: one is _burnt_ to death, the other is _scalded_ to death; or,
+if you're damn lucky, _drowned_. That's more chances than they have
+upstairs."--_B. Scott (late Stoker, H.M.S. "Marlborough"), 29 Stanley
+Road, Southend-on-Sea, Essex._
+
+
+He was a Bigger Fish
+
+The battleship in which I was serving was picking up survivors from a
+torpedoed merchantman in the North Atlantic. They had been drifting
+about for hours clinging to upturned boats and bits of gear that had
+floated clear of the wreckage.
+
+Our boat had picked up three or four half-drowned men and was just
+about to return to the ship when we espied a fat sailor bobbing about
+with his arms around a plank. We pulled up close to him and the bow-man
+leaned out with a boat-hook and drew him alongside.
+
+[Illustration: "Wot d'yer fink I am--a blinkin' tiddler?"]
+
+He seemed to have just strength enough left to grasp the gunwale,
+when we were surprised to hear him shout, in an unmistakable Cockney
+voice: "All right, Cockey, un'itch that boat 'ook. Wot d'yer fink I
+am--a blinkin' tiddler?"--_Leslie E. Austin, 6 Northumberland Avenue,
+Squirrels Heath, Romford, Essex._
+
+
+The "Arethusa" Touch
+
+During the action off Heligoland in August 1914 the light cruiser
+_Arethusa_ came under a hot fire. A shell penetrated the chief stoker's
+mess, knocked a drawer full of flour all over the deck, but luckily
+failed to explode.
+
+A Cockney stoker standing in the mess had a narrow escape, but after
+surveying the wreckage and flour-covered deck all he said was: "Blowed
+if they ain't trying to make a blinkin' duff in our mess!"--_C. H. Cook
+(Lieut., R.N.V.R.), 91 Great Russell Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+His Chance to Dive
+
+During the early part of 1917, whilst I was serving with one of H.M.
+transports, we had occasion to call at Panama for coaling purposes
+before proceeding to England via New York.
+
+One of our many Cockney sailors was a fine swimmer and diver. He took
+every opportunity to have what he termed "a couple of dives."
+
+Owing to the water being rather shallow immediately along the quay, his
+diving exhibitions were limited to nothing higher than the forecastle,
+which was some 30 ft. His one desire, however, was to dive from the
+boat-deck, which was about 60 ft. Whilst steaming later in the front
+line of our convoy, which numbered about forty-two ships, we became the
+direct target of a deadly torpedo. Every soul dashed for the lifeboats.
+
+After things had somewhat subsided I found our Cockney
+friend--disregarding the fact that our ship was badly damaged and was
+now listing at an almost impossible angle--posing rather gracefully for
+a dive. He shouted, "Hi! hi! Wot abaht this 'un? I told yer I could do
+it easy!" He then dived gracefully and swam to a lifeboat.--_Bobbie
+George Bull (late Mercantile Marine), 40 Warren Road, Leyton, E.10._
+
+
+Wot Abaht Wot?
+
+In 1917 our job on an armed merchantman, H.M.A.S. _Marmora_, was to
+escort food ships through the danger zone. One trip we were going to
+Sierra Leone, but in the middle of the afternoon, when about two days
+out from Cardiff, we were torpedoed.
+
+The old ship came to a standstill and we all proceeded to action
+stations. Just as we were training our guns in the direction of the
+submarine another torpedo struck us amidships and smashed practically
+all the boats on the port side.
+
+"Abandon ship" was given, as we were slowly settling down by the bows.
+Our boat was soon crowded out, and there seemed not enough room for a
+cat. The last man down the life-line was "Tubby," our cook's mate, who
+came from Poplar.
+
+When he was about half way down the boat was cut adrift and "Tubby" was
+left hanging in mid-air. "Hi!" he shouted. "What abaht it?"
+
+Another Cockney (from Battersea) replied: "What abaht what?"
+
+"Abaht coming back for me."
+
+"What do you take us for," said the lad from Battersea; "do yer fink we
+all want the sack fer overcrowdin'?"
+
+"Tubby" was, of course, picked up after a slight immersion.--_C. Phelps
+(late R.M.L.I.), 36 Oxford Road, Putney, S.W.15._
+
+
+Water on the Watch
+
+I was one of the crew of a patrol boat at the Nore in the winter of
+1915. Most of the crew had gone to the dockyard to draw stores and
+provisions, and I was down in the forecastle when I heard a shout
+for help. I nipped up on deck and discovered that our Cockney stoker
+had fallen overboard. He was trying to swim for dear life, though
+handicapped by a pair of sea boots and canvas overalls over his
+ordinary sailor's rig. A strong tide was running and was carrying him
+away from the boat.
+
+I threw a coil of rope to him, and after a struggle I managed to haul
+him aboard. I took him down to the boiler room and stripped off his
+clothes.
+
+Around his neck was tied a bootlace, on the end of which was hanging
+a metal watch, which he told me he had bought the day before for five
+shillings. The watch was full of sea water, and there was an air bubble
+inside the glass. As he held it in his hand he looked at it with
+disgust. When I said to him what a wonderful escape his wife had had
+from being left a widow, he replied, "Yes, it was a near fing, ole'
+mate, but wot abaht me blinkin' bran' noo watch? It's gone and turned
+itself into a perishin' spirit level, and I've dipped five bob."--_W.
+Carter, 55 Minet Avenue, Harlesden, N.W.10._
+
+[Illustration: "A perishin' spirit level."]
+
+
+A Gallant Tar
+
+An awe-inspiring sight met the eyes of the 29th Division as they came
+into view of Gallipoli on the morning of April 25, 1915. Shells from
+our ships were bursting all over that rugged coast, and those from the
+enemy bespattered the water around us.
+
+While I gazed at the scene from the deck of the _Andania_, carried away
+by the grandeur of it all, my reverie was broken by a Cockney voice
+from the sailor in charge of the small boat that was to take us ashore.
+"'Op in, mate," said the sailor. "I've just lorst three boats. I reckon
+I'll soon have to take the blooming island meself."
+
+His fourth trip was successfully accomplished, but the fifth, alas! was
+fatal both to this gallant tar and to the occupants of his boat.--_G.
+Pull (late 1st R. Innis. Fus.), 20 Friars Place Lane, Acton, W.3._
+
+
+A Cap for Jerry
+
+Dawn, September 1, 1917, H.M. destroyer _Rosalind_ was engaged with
+enemy ships off Jutland. I was serving on one of the guns, and we were
+approaching the enemy at full speed. The ship was vibrating from end
+to end, and the gun fire, the bursting of shells, and the smell of the
+cordite had got our nerves at high tension.
+
+When we were very near the enemy one of the German ships blew up
+completely in a smothering cloud of smoke.
+
+At this time something went wrong with our ammunition supply, and we
+had used up all that we usually carried on the gun platform. One of the
+gun's crew, a Cockney, put his cap in the breech, and said "Quick! Send
+'em this to put the lid on that blinkin' chimney." We all had to laugh,
+and carried on.--_W. E. M. (late H.M.S. "Rosalind"), 19 Kimberley Road,
+Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Give 'im 'is Trumpet Back
+
+After the _Britannia_ was torpedoed in November 1918, and the order
+"Abandon Ship" had been given, the crew had to make their way as best
+they could to a destroyer which had pulled up alongside.
+
+Hawsers were run from the _Britannia_ to the destroyer, down which we
+swarmed. Some got across. Others were not so lucky. One of the unlucky
+ones who had a free bath was a Cockney stoker nicknamed "Shorty," who,
+after splashing and struggling about, managed to get near the destroyer.
+
+To help him a burly marine dangled a rope and wooden bucket over the
+side, this being the only means of rescue available. The marine, who
+was puffing at a large meerschaum pipe, called out: "Here y'are,
+Shorty, grab 'old o' this bucket an' mind yer don't drown yerself in
+it."
+
+"Shorty" makes sure of bucket, then wipes the water from his eyes,
+looks up to the marine, and says: "Garn, give the kid 'is trumpet
+back."--_G. Lowe (ex-R.M.L.I.), 18 Brocas Street, Eton, Bucks._
+
+
+Getting the Range
+
+It was on H.M. monitor _General Wolfe_, my first ship, and this was my
+first taste of actual warfare.
+
+We were lying anchored off the Belgian coast, shelling an inland
+objective with our 18-in. gun, the ammunition for which, by the way,
+was stowed on the upper deck.
+
+All ratings other than this gun's crew were standing by for "action
+stations." Just then the shore batteries opened fire on us. The first
+shot fell short, the next went over.
+
+A Cockney member of my gun's crew explained it thus: "That's wot they
+calls a straddle," he said. "They finds our range that way--one short,
+one over, and the next 'arf way between. Got a 'bine on yer before it's
+too late?"--_Regd. W. Ayres (late A.B., R.N.), 50 Lewisham High Road,
+New Cross, S.E. 14._
+
+
+Coco-nut Shies
+
+Early in 1915 I was attached to one of our monitors in the Far East. We
+had painted the ship to represent the country we were fighting in. The
+ship's side was painted green with palm trees on it, and up the funnel
+we painted a large coco-nut tree in full bloom.
+
+When we went into action, a shell penetrated our funnel, and a splinter
+caught my breech worker in the shoulder. After we had ceased fire we
+carried him below on a stretcher. Looking at the funnel, he said,
+"Blimey, Tom, 'appy 'Ampstead and three shies a penny. All you knock
+down you 'ave."
+
+Later I went to see him in Zanzibar Hospital, and told him he had been
+awarded the D.S.M. He seemed more interested to know if the German
+had got his coco-nut than in his own award.--_T. Spring (late Chief
+Gunner's Mate, R.N.), 26 Maidenstone Hill, Greenwich, S.E.10._
+
+
+"Any more for the 'Skylark'?"
+
+Passing through the Mediterranean in 1916, the P. & O. liner _Arabia_,
+returning from the East with a full complement of passengers, was
+torpedoed.
+
+I was in charge of a number of naval ratings returning to England, who,
+of course, helped to get the boats away.
+
+While some of my boys were getting out one of the port boats a woman
+passenger, who had on a Gieves waistcoat, rushed up, holding the air
+tube in front of her, and shouting hysterically, "Oh, blow it up
+somebody, will somebody please blow it up?" A hefty seaman with a
+couple of blasts had the waistcoat inflated, and as he screwed up the
+cap said, "Look 'ere, miss, if yer 'oller like that Fritzy will 'ear
+yer and he _will_ be angry. 'Ere you are, miss, boat all ready; 'op in."
+
+Then, turning round to the waiting passengers, he said, "Come on, any
+more for the 'Skylark'?"--_F. M. Simon (Commander, R.N., retd.), 99
+Lower Northdown Road, Margate._
+
+
+Still High and Dry
+
+Whilst patrolling on an exceptionally dark night, the order being "No
+lights showing," we had the misfortune to come into collision with a
+torpedo boat. Owing to the darkness and suddenness of the collision
+we could not discover the extent of the damage, so the officer of the
+watch made a "round," accompanied by the duty petty officer.
+
+Upon reaching a hatchway leading down to the stokers' mess deck, he
+called down: "Is there any water coming in down there?" In answer a
+Cockney stoker, who was one of a number in their hammocks, was heard to
+reply: "I don't fink so; it ain't reached my 'ammock yet."--_J. Norton
+(late Ldg. Stoker, R.N.), 24 Lochaline Street, Hammersmith, W.6._
+
+
+Trunkey Turk's Sarcasm
+
+We were serving in a destroyer (H.M.S. _Stour_) in 1915, steaming up
+and down the East Coast. As we passed the different coastguard stations
+the bunting-tosser had to signal each station for news.
+
+One station, in particular, always had more to tell than the others.
+One day this station signalled that a merchant ship had been torpedoed
+and that German submarines were near the coast.
+
+My Cockney chum--we called him Trunkey Turk because of his big
+nose--asked the bunting-tosser for his news as he was coming down from
+the bridge, and when he was told, said, "Why didn't you ask them if
+they saw a tin of salmon in their tot of rum to-day?"--_J. Tucknott, 2
+Wisbeach Road, West Croydon._
+
+
+Running Down the Market
+
+On board a destroyer in the North Sea in 1916. Look-out reports, "Sail
+ahead, sir."
+
+The captain, adjusting his glasses, was able to make out what at first
+appeared to be a harmless fisherman.
+
+As we drew nearer we could see by her bow wave that she had something
+more than sails to help her along: she had power.
+
+"Action Stations" was sounded, the telegraphs to engine-room clanged
+"Full speed ahead." Our skipper was right. It was a German submarine,
+and as our foremost gun barked out we saw the white sails submerge.
+
+Depth charges were dropped at every point where we altered course.
+Imagine our surprise to find the resulting flotsam and jetsam around us
+consisted of trestles, boards, paint-brushes, boxes, and a hat or two,
+which the crafty Germans had used to camouflage their upper structure.
+
+The scene was summed up neatly by "Spikey" Merlin, A.B., a real product
+of Mile End Road: "Lor' luv old Aggie Weston, we've run dahn the
+blinkin' Calerdonian Markit."--_A. G. Reed (late R.N.), 15 William
+Street, Gravesend, Kent._
+
+
+Five to One against the "Tinfish"
+
+H.M.S. Morea, on convoy duty, was coming up the Channel when the silver
+streak of a "tinfish" was seen approaching the port side. The _Morea_
+was zig-zagging at the time, so more helm was given her to dodge the
+oncoming torpedo.
+
+The guns' crews were at action stations and were grimly waiting for the
+explosion, when a Cockney seaman gunner sang out, "I'll lay five to one
+it doesn't hit us."
+
+This broke the tension, and, as luck would have it, the torpedo passed
+three yards astern.--_J. Bowman (R.N.), 19 Handel Mansions, Handel
+Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+A Queer Porpoise
+
+In September 1914 I was in H.M.S. _Vanguard_, patrolling in the North
+Sea. One day four of us were standing on the top of the foremast
+turret, when all of a sudden my pal Nobby shouted to the bridge above
+us, "Periscope on the port bow, sir." At once the captain and signalman
+levelled their telescopes on the object. Then the captain looked over
+the bridge and shouted, "That's a porpoise, my man."
+
+Nobby looked up at the bridge and said, "Blimey, that's the first time
+I've seen a porpoise wiv a glass eye."
+
+He had no sooner said it than the ship slewed to port and a torpedo
+passed close to our stern, the signalman having spotted the wake of a
+torpedo.--_M. Froggat, 136 Laleham Road, Catford, S.E._
+
+
+"Hoctopus" with One Arm
+
+At the time when the German submarine blockade was taking heavy toll
+of all general shipping I was serving aboard a destroyer doing escort
+work in the Channel. One night three ships had been torpedoed in quick
+succession, and we understood they were carrying wounded.
+
+We were kept pretty busy dodging from one place to another to pick up
+survivors, and during our "travels" a ship's boat was sighted close at
+hand. In the darkness we could just make out the figure of a soldier
+endeavouring to pull a full-sized oar.
+
+After hailing the boat someone on our destroyer shouted, "Why didn't
+you get some more oars out?" A voice replied: "Don't be so funny. D'yer
+fink I'm a hoctopus? Our engines 'ave all conked aht." Which remark
+raised a laugh from the entire boatload.
+
+On getting closer alongside the tragedy dawned on us. This Cockney
+was the only man (out of about thirty) who was sound enough to handle
+an oar, and he only had one arm and a half.--_H. G. Vollor (late
+Ldg.-seaman, R.N.), 73 Playford-Road, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+Interrupted Duel
+
+The C.O. of my ship had his own way of punishing men who were brought
+before him for fighting.
+
+He would send for the gunner's mate and tell him to have the two
+men up on the upper deck, in view of the ship's company, armed with
+single-sticks. The gunner's mate would get them facing each other, give
+them the first order of "Cutlass practice"--"Guard!" then "Loose play."
+At that order they would go for each other hammer and tongs till one
+gave in.
+
+Such a dispute had to be settled one day while we were patrolling the
+North Sea. The combatants were just getting warm to it when the alarm
+buzzers went--enemy in sight.
+
+The gunner's mate, who was refereeing the combat, said: "Pipe dahn, you
+two bounders. Hop it to your action stations, and don't forget to come
+back 'ere when we've seen them off."
+
+Fortunately they were both able to "come back."--_John M. Spring (late
+P.O., R.N.), Bank Chambers, Forest Hill, S.E.23._
+
+
+Enter Dr. Crippen
+
+Our ship, the s.s. _Wellington_, was torpedoed on August 14, 1917, and
+we were a despondent crew in the only two boats. The U-boat that had
+sunk our ship appeared and we were wondering what was going to happen
+to us.
+
+As the U-boat bore down upon us my mate, Nigger Smith (from Shoreditch)
+spotted its commander, who wore large spectacles, on its conning tower
+bridge. "Blimey," said Nigger, "'ere's old Crippen!"--_J. Cane (late
+Gunner, R.M.), 73 Rahere Street, E.C.1._
+
+
+The All-seeing Eye
+
+My pal Pincher and I volunteered out of the destroyer _Vulture_ for the
+Q-boats, and got detailed for the same mystery ship. After a lot of
+drills--"Abandon ship," "Panic crews away," etc.--we thought we were
+hot stuff.
+
+Knocking about the Channel one fine day the order came, "Panic crews to
+stations." Thinking it was drill, Pincher and I nipped into our boat,
+when the after fall carried away, letting Pincher, myself, and crew
+into the "drink."
+
+Pincher must have caught sight of the periscope of a U-boat, for on
+coming up (although he couldn't swim much) he said when I grabbed him:
+"Lumme, I'm in for fourteen penn'orth!" (14 days 10A, i.e. punishment
+involving extra work). "There's the skipper lookin' at me through 'is
+telescope, and they aven't piped 'ands to bathe yet."--_P. Willoughby
+(late R.N.), 186 Evelyn Street, S.E.8._
+
+
+The Submarine's Gamps
+
+While patrolling in the Sea of Marmora a British submarine came across
+several umbrellas floating in the sea, presumably from a sunken ship.
+Some of them were acquired by the crew.
+
+On the passage down the Dardanelles the submarine was damaged in the
+conning tower by gun-fire from the Turkish batteries, and water began
+to come in.
+
+At this critical stage I overheard one sailor remark to another, "I
+say, Bill, don't you think it is about time we put those blinkin'
+umbrellas up?"--_Naval officer retired, Hampstead, N.W.3._
+
+
+Polishing up his German
+
+About January 15, 1915, we were on patrol duty in the North Sea. Near
+daybreak we came across a number of German drifters, with carrier
+pigeons on board, that were suspected of being in touch with submarines.
+
+We were steaming in line abreast, and the order was signalled for each
+ship to take one drifter in tow. Our Jerry objected to being towed to
+England, and cut our tow-rope, causing us a deal of trouble.
+
+Our captain was in a rage and shouted down from the bridge to the
+officer of the watch, "Is there anyone on board who can speak German?"
+
+The officer of the watch called back, "Yes, sir; Knight speaks
+German"--meaning an officer.
+
+So the captain turned to the bos'n's mate and said, "Fetch him." The
+bos'n's mate sends up Able Seaman "Bogey" Knight, to whom the captain
+says, over his shoulder: "Tell those fellows that I'll sink 'em if they
+tamper with the tow again."
+
+With a look of surprise Bogey salutes and runs aft. Putting his hands
+to his mouth. Bogey shouts:
+
+"Hi! there, drifterofsky, do yer savvy?" and makes a cut with his hand
+across his arm. "If yer makes de cut agin, I makes de shoot--(firing an
+imaginary rifle)--and that's from our skipper!"
+
+[Illustration: "I makes de shoot."]
+
+Bogey's mates laughed to hear him sprachen the German; but Jerry didn't
+cut the tow again.--_E. C. Gibson, 3 Slatin Road, Stroud, Kent._
+
+
+
+
+5. HERE AND THERE
+
+
+Answered
+
+We were a working party of British prisoners marching through the
+German barracks on our way to the parcel office. Coming towards us was
+a German officer on horseback. When he arrived abreast of us he shouted
+in very good English: "It's a long way to Tipperary, boys, isn't it?"
+This was promptly answered by a Cockney in the crowd: "Yus! And it's
+a ruddy long way to Paris, ain't it?"--_C. A. Cooke, O.B.E. (late
+R.N.D.), 34 Brandram Road, Lee High Road, S.E._
+
+
+A Prisoner has the Last Laugh
+
+Scene: A small ward in Cologne Fortress, occupied by about twelve
+British prisoners of war.
+
+Time: The German M.O.'s inspection. Action: The new sentry on guard in
+the corridor had orders that all must stand on the M.O.'s entry. Seeing
+the M.O. coming, he called out to us. We jumped to it as best we could,
+except one, a Cockney, who had just arrived minus one leg and suffering
+from other injuries.
+
+Not knowing this, the sentry rushed over to him, yelling that he must
+stand. Seeing that no notice was being taken, he pointed his rifle
+directly at the Cockney. With an effort, since he was very weak and in
+great pain, the Cockney raised himself, caught hold of the rifle and,
+looking straight at it, said: "Dirty barrel--seven days!"
+
+The M.O., who had just arrived, heard the remark, and, understanding
+it, explained it to the sentry, who joined in our renewed
+laughter.--_A. V. White, 35 Mayville Road, Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Not Yet Introduced
+
+We were prisoners of war, all taken before Christmas 1914, and had been
+drafted to Libau, on the Baltic coast.
+
+Towards the end of 1916 a party of us were working on the docks when a
+German naval officer approached and began talking to us.
+
+During the conversation he said he had met several English admirals and
+named some of them.
+
+After a little while a Cockney voice from the rear of our party said,
+"'Ave you ever met Jellicoe, mate?"
+
+The officer replied in the negative, whereupon the Cockney said, "Well,
+take yer bloomin' ships into the North Sea: he's looking for yer."--_F.
+A. F. (late K.O.Y.L.I.), 4 Shaftesbury Road, W.6._
+
+
+On the Art of Conversation
+
+In 1916 the British R.N.A.S. armoured cars, under Commander Oliver
+Locker-Lampson, went from Russia to Rumania to help to stem the enemy's
+advance.
+
+One day, at the frontier town of Reni, I saw a Cockney petty officer
+engaged in earnest conversation with a Russian soldier. Finally, the
+two shook hands solemnly, saluted, and parted.
+
+"Did he speak English?" I asked when the Russian had gone away. "Not
+'im," said the P.O.
+
+"Perhaps you speak Russian?" I asked, my curiosity aroused. "No
+bloomin' fear!" he said, for all the world as if I had insulted him.
+
+"Then how do you speak to each other?"
+
+"That's easy, sir," he said. "'E comes up to me an' says 'Ooski,
+kooski, wooski, fooski.' 'Same to you,' says I, 'an' many of 'em,
+ol' cock.' 'Bzz-z-z, mzz-z-z, tzz-z-z,' says 'e. 'Thanks,' I says.
+'Another time, ol' boy. I've just 'ad a couple.' 'Tooralski, looralski,
+pooralski,' 'e says. 'Ye don't say!' says I. 'An' very nice, too,' I
+says, 'funny face!'
+
+"'Armony," he explained. "No quarrellin', no argifyin', only peace an'
+'armony.... Of course, sir, every now an' again I says 'Go to 'ell, y'
+silly blighter!'"
+
+"What for?"
+
+He looked at me coldly. "'Ow do I know but what the blighter's usin'
+insultin' words to me?" he asked.--_R. S. Liddell, Rosebery Avenue,
+E.C.1._
+
+
+Down Hornsey Way
+
+Here is a story of the Cockney war spirit at home. We called him
+"London" as he was the only Londoner in the troop. Very pale and
+slight, he gave the impression of being consumptive, yet he was quite
+an athlete, as his sprinting at the brigade sports showed.
+
+We had been on a gunnery course up Hornsey way, and with skeleton kit
+were returning past a large field in which were three gas chambers
+used for gas drill. No one was allowed even to go in the field unless
+equipped with a gas-mask. Suddenly a voice called out, "Look, there's a
+man trying to get in yon chamber."
+
+We shouted as loud as we could, but beyond waving his arms the
+figure--which looked to be that of a farm labourer--continued to push
+at the door. Then I saw "London" leap the gate of the field and sprint
+towards the chamber. When he was about 50 yards off the man gave a
+sudden lurch at the door and passed within. We called to "London" to
+come back, but a couple of seconds later he too was lost from view.
+
+One minute--it seemed like an hour--two, three, five, ten, and out came
+"London." He dragged with him the bulky labourer. Five yards from the
+chamber he dropped. Disregarding orders, we ran to his assistance.
+Both his eyes were swollen, his lip was cut, and a large gash on the
+cheek-bone told not of gas, but of a fight.
+
+He soon came to--and pointing to his many cuts said, "Serves me right
+for interfering. Thought the fellah might have been gassed, but there's
+none in there; and hell--he _can_ hit."--_"Selo-Sam," late Yorks
+Dragoons._
+
+
+"... Wouldn't Come Off"
+
+He hailed from Walworth and was the unfortunate possessor of a
+permanent grin.
+
+The trouble began at the training camp at Seaford when the captain was
+inspecting the company.
+
+"Who are you grinning at?" said he. "Beg parding," replied Smiler, "but
+I can't help it, sir. I was born like it."
+
+On the "other side" it was the same. The captain would take Smiler's
+grin as a distinct attempt to "take a rise" out of him. The result was
+that all the worst jobs seemed to fall upon the luckless Londoner.
+
+He was one of the "lucky lads" selected one night for a working party.
+While he was so engaged Jerry sent over a packet which was stopped by
+Smiler, and it was quickly apparent to him and to us that this was more
+than a Blighty one.
+
+As I knelt by his side to comfort him he softly whispered, "Say, mate,
+has Jerry knocked the blinkin' smile off?"
+
+"No," I replied, "it's still there."
+
+Then, with a strange light in his eyes, he said, "Won't the captain be
+darned wild when he hears about it?"--_P. Walters (late Cpl., Royal
+Fusiliers), 20 Church Street, Woolwich, S.E.18._
+
+
+When In Greece...?
+
+On a Greek island overlooking the Dardanelles, where we were stationed
+in 1916, my pal Sid and I were one day walking along a road when we saw
+approaching us a poor-looking knock-kneed donkey. On its back, almost
+burying it, was a huge pile of brushwood, and on top of this sat a
+Greek, whilst in front walked an elderly woman, probably his wife, also
+with a load of twigs on her back.
+
+Sid's face was a study in astonishment and indignation. "Strewth!" he
+muttered to himself. To the Greek he said, "Hi, 'oo the dickens d'you
+fink you are--the Lord Mayor? Come down orf of there!"
+
+The Greek didn't understand, of course, but Sid had him down. He seemed
+to be trying to remonstrate with Sid, but Sid wasn't "'avin' no excuses
+of that sort," and proceeded to reverse the order of things. He wanted
+"Ma" to "'op up an' 'ave a ride," but the timid woman declined. Her
+burden, however, was transferred to the man's back, and after surveying
+him in an O.C. manner, Sid said: "Nah, pass on, an' don't let it 'appen
+again!"--_H. T. Coad (late R.M.L.I.), 30 Moat Place, Stockwell, S.W.9._
+
+
+The Chef Drops a Brick
+
+At a prisoners of war camp, in Havre, it was my duty to make a daily
+inspection of the compound within the barbed wire, and also the
+officers' quarters.
+
+In charge of the officers' mess was a little Cockney corporal, but
+practically all the cooking and other work was done by German prisoners.
+
+We had just put on trial a new cook, a German, who had told us that he
+had been a chef before the war at one of the big London hotels.
+
+I was making my usual inspection with my S. M., and when we came to
+the officers' mess he bawled out "'Shun! Officer's inspection, any
+complaints?"
+
+The new German cook apparently did not think that this applied to him,
+and, wanting to create a good impression, he strolled across to me in
+the best _maître d'hôtel_ style, and exclaimed, "Goot mornung, sir. I
+tink ve are go'n to haf som rain."
+
+[Illustration: "'Ow long 'ave you bin a partner in the firm?"]
+
+Our little corporal appeared astounded at this lack of respect, and,
+going over to the German, he said in a loud voice: "Put thet knife
+dahn, an' stand to attention. Ve'r gorn to 'ave some rine, indeed!" And
+then, in a louder voice, "_Ve_ are. 'Ow long 'ave _you_ bin a partner
+in the firm?"--_Lieut. Edwin J. Barratt (Ex-"Queens" R.W. Surrey
+Regt.), 8 Elborough Street, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+His "Read" Letter Day
+
+At Sorrel le Grand, which our division had just taken in 1917, we took
+up a good position for our machine gun in a small dug-out.
+
+I was cleaning my revolver on one of the steps, and it accidentally
+went off.
+
+To my surprise and horror the bullet struck one of my comrades (who was
+in a sitting position) in the centre of his steel helmet, creating a
+huge dent.
+
+His remark was: "Lummy, it was a jolly good job I was reading one of
+my girl's letters," and then continued reading.--_Robt. Fisher (late
+Corpl., M.G.C.), 15 Mayesbrook Road, Goodmayes, Essex._
+
+
+Dan, the Dandy Detective
+
+Jerry's front line trench and ours were not three hundred yards apart.
+Over that sinister strip of ground attack and counter-attack had
+surged and ebbed in a darkness often turned to day by Verey lights and
+star-shells. Brave men on each side had reached their objective, but
+"fell Sergeant Death" often took charge.
+
+In our sector was a 1914 "Contemptible," who, despite mud and adverse
+conditions, made his New Army comrades smile at his barrack-room
+efforts to keep his uniform and equipment just so.
+
+Of Coster ancestry, his name was Dan, and, of course, they called him
+Dandy. He felt distinctly annoyed when on several days an officer
+passed him in the trench with the third button of his tunic missing.
+"'Is batman ought bloomin' well be for it," he soliloquised.
+
+Another night visit to Jerry's trench, and again some poor fellows stay
+there for keeps. In broad noonday Dan is once more aggrieved by seeing
+an officer with a button missing who halts in the trench to ask him the
+whereabouts of B.H.Q. and other details. The tunic looked the same,
+third button absent, _but it was not the same officer_.
+
+Now Dan's platoon sergeant, also a Londoner, was a man who had
+exchanged his truncheon for a more deadly weapon. Him Dan accosts:
+"I've a conundrum I'd like to arsk you, sergeant, as I don't see
+Sherlock 'Olmes nowhere. W'y do orficers lose their third button?"
+
+As became an ex-policeman, the sergeant's suspicions were aroused by
+the coincidence, so much so indeed that he made discreet enquiries and
+discovered that the original owner of a tunic minus a third button had
+been reported missing, believed dead, after a recent trench raid.
+
+The adjutant very soon made it his business to intercept the new wearer
+and civilly invite him to meet the O.C. at B.H.Q. Result: a firing
+party at dawn.
+
+When the news of the spy filtered through, Dan's comment was; "Once,
+when a rookie, I was crimed at the Tower for paradin' with a button
+missin', but I've got even now by havin' an orficer crimed for the same
+thing, even if he _was_ only a blinkin' 'Un!"--_H. G., Plaistow._
+
+
+The Apology
+
+A heavily-laden and slightly intoxicated Tommy, en route to France,
+entered the Tube at Oxford Circus. As the train started he lurched and
+trod heavily on the toes of a very distinguished "Brass Hat."
+
+Grabbing hold of the strap, he leaned down apologetically and murmured:
+"_Sorry, Sergeant!_"--_Bert Thomas, Church Farm, Pinner, Middlesex._
+
+[Illustration: "Sorry, Sergeant!"]
+
+
+Too Scraggy
+
+We were prisoners in the infamous Fort Macdonald, near Lille, early in
+May 1917, rammed into the dungeons there for a sort of "levelling down
+process," i.e. starvation, brutal treatment, and general misery. After
+eleven days of it we were on our way, emaciated, silent, and miserable,
+to the working camps close behind the German lines, when a Cockney
+voice piped up:
+
+"Nah then, boys, don't be down 'earted. They kin knock yer abaht and
+cut dahn yer rations, but, blimey, they won't _eat_ us--not nah!"--_G.
+F. Green, 14 Alma Square, St. John's Wood, N.W.8._
+
+
+So Why Worry?
+
+The following, written by a London Colonel, was hung up in one of our
+dug-outs:
+
+"When one is a soldier, it is one of two things. One is either in a
+dangerous place, or a cushy one. If in the latter, there is no need to
+worry. If one is in a dangerous place, it is one of two things. One is
+wounded, or one is not. If one is not, there is no need to worry. If
+the former, it is either dangerous or slight. If slight, there is no
+need to worry, but if dangerous, it is one of two alternatives. One
+dies or recovers. If the latter, why worry? If you die you cannot. In
+these circumstances the real Tommy never worries."--_"Alwas," Windmill
+Road, Brentford, Middlesex._
+
+
+Commended by the Kaiser
+
+As prisoners of war we were unloading railway sleepers from trucks when
+a shell dump blew up. German guards and British prisoners scattered in
+all directions. Some of the Germans were badly wounded and, as shells
+continued to explode, no attempt was made by their comrades to succour
+them.
+
+Seeing the plight of the wounded, a Cockney lad called to some
+fellow-prisoners crouching on the ground, "We can't leave 'em to die
+like this. Who's coming with me?"
+
+He and others raced across a number of rail tracks to the wounded men
+and carried them to cover.
+
+For this act of bravery they were later commended by the then
+Kaiser.--_C. H. Porter (late East Surrey Regiment), 118 Fairlands
+Avenue, Thornton Heath, Surrey._
+
+
+Only Fog Signals
+
+We were resting in Poperinghe in December 1915. One morning about 4.30
+a.m. we were called out and rushed to entrain for Vlamertinghe because
+Jerry was attacking.
+
+The train was packed with troops, and we were oiling our rifle bolts
+and checking our ammunition to be ready for action. We had not
+proceeded far when Jerry started trying to hit the train with some
+heavy shells. Several burst very close to the track.
+
+There was one young chap in our compartment huddled in a corner looking
+rather white. "They seem to be trying to hit the train," he said.
+
+"Darkie" Webb, of Poplar, always cheerful and matter-of-fact, looked
+across at the speaker and said, "'It the train? No fear, mate, them's
+only signals; there's fog on the line."--_B. Pigott (late Essex Regt.),
+55 Burdett Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea._
+
+
+An American's Hustle
+
+I was on the extreme right of the British line on March 22, 1918, and
+was severely wounded. I was picked up by the U.S. Red Cross.
+
+There was accommodation for four in the ambulance, and this was
+apportioned between two Frenchmen, a Cockney gunner, and myself.
+
+Anxious to keep our spirits up, the kindly Yankee driver said, "Cheer
+up! I'll soon get you there and see you put right," and as if to prove
+his words he rushed the ambulance off at express speed, with the result
+that in a few moments he knocked down a pedestrian.
+
+A short rest whilst he adjusted matters with the unfortunate
+individual, then off again at breakneck speed.
+
+The Cockney had, up to now, been very quiet, but when our driver barely
+missed a group of Tommies and in avoiding them ran into a wagon, the
+Londoner raised himself on his elbow and in a hoarse voice said, "Naw
+then, Sam, what the 'ell are you playing at? 'Aint yer got enough
+customers?"--_John Thomas Sawyer (8th East Surreys), 88 Wilcox Road,
+S.W.8._
+
+
+Truth about Parachutes
+
+Most English balloon observers were officers, but occasionally a
+non-commissioned man was taken up in order to give him experience.
+
+On one such occasion the balloon burst in the air. The two occupants
+made a hasty parachute exit from the basket. The courtesy usually
+observed by the senior officer, of allowing the other parachute to get
+clear before he jumps, was not possible in this instance, with the
+result that the officer got entangled with the "passenger's" parachute,
+which consequently did not open.
+
+Fortunately the officer's parachute functioned successfully and brought
+both men safely to earth. Upon landing they were rather badly dragged
+along the ground, being finally pulled up in a bush.
+
+The "passenger," a Cockney sergeant, was damaged a good deal, but upon
+being picked up and asked how he had enjoyed his ride he answered, "Oh,
+it was all right, but a parachute is like a wife or a toof-brush--you
+reely want one to yourself."--_Basil Mitchell (late R.A.F.), 51 Long
+Lane, Finchley, N.3._
+
+
+The Linguist
+
+[Illustration: "Moi--vous--'im--avec Allah!"]
+
+An Indian mule driver had picked up a German hand grenade of the
+"potato masher" type, which he evidently regarded as a heaven-sent
+implement for driving in a peg. Two Tommies tried to dissuade him, but,
+though he desisted, he was obviously puzzled. So one of the Cockneys
+tried to explain. "Vous compree Allah?" he asked, and raised his hand
+above his head. Satisfied that the increasing look of bewilderment was
+really one of complete enlightenment, he proceeded to go through a
+pantomime of striking with the "potato masher" and, solemnly pointing
+in turn to himself, to the Indian, and to his companion, said: "Moi,
+vous, and 'im--avec Allah."--_J. F. Seignoir (Lt., R.A.), 13 Moray
+Place, Cheshunt, Herts._
+
+
+Billiards isn't all Cannons
+
+My regiment was in action on the Marne on September 20, 1914. We had
+been hammering, and had been hammered at, for some hours, until there
+were very few of us left, and those few, being almost all of them
+wounded or short of ammunition, were eventually captured and taken
+behind the German lines.
+
+As we passed their trenches we saw a great number of German wounded
+lying about.
+
+One of our lads, a reservist, who was a billiards marker in Stepney,
+although badly wounded, could not resist a gibe at a German officer.
+
+"Strewth, Old Sausage and Mash," he cried, "your blokes may be good at
+the cannon game, but we can beat yer at pottin' the blinkin' red. Look
+at yer perishin' number board" (meaning the German killed and wounded).
+And with a sniff of contempt he struggled after his mates into
+captivity.--_T. C. Rainbird (late Pte., 1st West Yorks), 41 Cavalry
+Crescent, Eastbourne, Sussex._
+
+
+Run?--Not Likely
+
+It was the beginning of the spring offensive, 1918, and the 2nd Army
+Gun School, Wisques, was empty, as the men had gone into the line. A
+handful of Q.M.A.A.C. cooks were standing by.
+
+I sent two little Cockney girls over to the instructors' château to
+keep the fires up in case the men returned suddenly. I went to the camp
+gate as an enemy bombing plane passed over. The girls had started back,
+and were half-way across the field. The plane flew so low that the men
+leaned over the side and jeered at us.
+
+I held my breath as it passed the girls--would they shoot them in
+passing? The girls did not hasten, but presently reached me with faces
+as white as paper.
+
+"Why didn't you run?" I said.
+
+"Lor', mum," came the reply, "yer didn't think as 'ow we was a-goin'
+ter run with them there Germans up there, did ye? Not much!"--_C. N.
+(late U.A., Q.M.A.A.C.), Heathcroft, Hampstead Way, N.W._
+
+
+At "The Bow Bells" Concert
+
+Whilst having a short spell away from the front line I attended a
+performance given in Arras by the divisional concert party, "The Bow
+Bells."
+
+During one of the items a long-range shell struck the building,
+fortunately without causing any casualties among the audience.
+
+Although front-line troops are not given to "windiness," the
+unexpectedness of this unwelcome arrival brought about a few moments'
+intense silence, which was broken by a Cockney who remarked, "Jerry
+_would_ come in wivvaht payin'."--_L. S. Smith (late 1-7 Middlesex
+Regt., 56th Division, B.E.F.), 171 Langham Road, N.15._
+
+
+A Bomb and a Pillow
+
+During part of the war my work included salving and destroying "dud"
+shells and bombs in the back areas. On one occasion in an air-raid a
+"dud" bomb glanced through the side of a hut occupied by some fitters
+belonging to an M.T. section of R.E.'s.
+
+This particular bomb (weighing about 100 lb.), on its passage through
+the hut had torn the corner of a pillow on which the owner's head was
+lying and carried feathers for several feet into the ground.
+
+We dug about ten feet down and then, as the hole filled with water as
+fast as we could pump it out, we gave it up, the tail, which had become
+detached a few feet down, being the only reward of our efforts.
+
+While we were in the midst of our operations the owner of the
+pillow--very "bucked" at being unhurt after such a narrow shave--came
+to look on, and with a glance down the hole and a grin at me said,
+"Well, sir, if I'd known it 'ud give yer so much trouble, I'd 'a caught
+it!"--_Arthur G. Grutchfield (late Major (D.A.D.O.S. Ammn.) R.A.O.C.),
+Hill Rise, Sanderstead Road, Sanderstead, Surrey._
+
+
+Athletics in the Khyber Pass
+
+During the Afghan operations I was resting my company on the side of
+the road at the Afghan entrance to the Khyber Pass. It was mid-day
+and the heat was terrific, when along that heat-stricken road came a
+British battalion. They had marched 15 miles that morning from Ali
+Musfd. Their destination was Landi Kana, five miles below us on the
+plain.
+
+As they came round the bend a cheer went up, for they spotted specks of
+white canvas in the distance. Most of the battalion seemed to be on the
+verge of collapse from the heat, but one Tommy, a Cockney, broke from
+the ranks and had a look at the camp in the distance, and exclaimed:
+"Coo! If I 'ad me running pumps I could sprint it!"--_Capt. A. G. A.
+Barton, M.C., Indian Army, "The Beeches," The Beeches Road, Perry Bar,
+Birmingham._
+
+
+Jack and his Jack Johnsons
+
+In September 1915 our battery near Ypres was crumped at intervals of
+twenty minutes by 18-in. shells. The craters they made could easily
+contain a lorry or two.
+
+One hit by the fifth shell destroyed our château completely. Leaving
+our dug-outs I found a gunner smoking fags under the fish-net
+camouflage at Number One gun.
+
+Asked sternly why he had not gone to ground, he replied, "Well,
+yer see, sir, I'm really a sailor and when the earth rocks with
+Jack Johnsons I feels at 'ome like. Besides, the nets keeps off the
+flies."--_G. C. D. (ex-Gunner Subaltern, 14th Div.), Sister Agnes
+Officers' Hospital, Grosvenor Crescent, S.W.1._
+
+
+Even Davy Jones Protested
+
+Towards the final stages of the Palestine front operations, when Johnny
+Turk was retreating very rapidly, I was detailed with others to clear
+and destroy enemy ammunition that had been left behind.
+
+When near the Sea of Galilee there was discovered a dump of aerial
+bombs, each approximately 25 lb. in weight. Thinking it quicker and
+attended by less risk than the usual detonation, I decided to drop them
+in the sea.
+
+About ten bombs were placed aboard a small boat, and I with three
+others pushed out about two hundred yards. Two of the bombs were
+dropped overboard without ever a thought of danger when suddenly there
+was a heavy, dull explosion beneath us, and boat, cargo, and crew were
+thrown into the air.
+
+Nobody was hurt. All clung to the remains of the boat, and we were
+brought back to our senses by one of our Cockney companions, who
+remarked: "Even Davy Jones won't have the ruddy fings."--_A. W. Owen
+(late Corporal, Desert Corps), 9 Keith Road, Walthamstow, E.17._
+
+
+"Parti? Don't blame 'im!"
+
+One summer afternoon in 1915 I was asked to deliver an official letter
+to the Mayor of Poperinghe. The old town was not then so well known as
+Toc H activities have since made it. At the time it was being heavily
+strafed by long-range guns. Many of the inhabitants had fled.
+
+I rode over with a pal. The door of the _mairie_ was open, but the
+building appeared as deserted as the great square outside.
+
+Just then a Belgian gendarme walked in and looked at us inquiringly. I
+showed him the buff envelope inscribed "_Monsieur le Maire_," whereupon
+he smiled and said, "_Parti_."
+
+At that moment there was a deafening crash outside and the air was
+filled with flying debris and acrid smoke. In a feeling voice my chum
+quietly remarked, "And I don't blinkin' well blame 'im, either!"--_F.
+Street, 13 Greenfield Road, Eastbourne._
+
+
+    _Printed in Great Britain by Hasell, Watson & Viney, Ltd.,
+    London and Aylesbury._
+
+    _Published by Associated Newspapers, Ltd., London, E.C.4._
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.
+
+Hyphenation was made consistent.
+
+P. 49: "Dorian Lake" changed to "Doiran Lake".
+
+P. 103: "Hindenbrug" changed to "Hindenburg".
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COCKNEY WAR STORIES ***
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+Project Gutenberg's 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 23, 2013 [EBook #44263]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COCKNEY WAR STORIES ***
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+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
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+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>500 OF THE BEST COCKNEY WAR STORIES</h1>
+
+<p class="center spaced space-above">
+<small>REPRINTED FROM THE LONDON</small><br />
+<big>Evening News</big><br />
+<small>AND ILLUSTRATED BY</small><br />
+BERT THOMAS<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="center spaced space-above">
+<small>WITH AN OPENING YARN BY</small><br />
+GENERAL<br />
+SIR IAN HAMILTON<br />
+<small>G.C.B., G.C.M.G., D.S.O., etc.</small><br />
+<small>Vice-President of the British Legion</small><br />
+<small>President of the Metropolitan Area of the</small><br />
+<small>British Legion</small><br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="center spaced space-above">
+<small>ASSOCIATED NEWSPAPERS LTD.</small><br />
+<small>LONDON, E.C.4</small>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>EDITOR'S FOREWORD</h2>
+
+
+<p>In the remembering, and in the retelling, of those war
+days when laughter sometimes saved men's reason,
+Cockneys the world over have left to posterity a record of
+noble and imperishable achievement.</p>
+
+<p>From the countless tales collected by the London <i>Evening
+News</i> these five hundred, many of them illustrated by the
+great war-time artist, Bert Thomas, have been chosen as a
+fitting climax and perpetuation.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ian Hamilton's story of another war shows that, however
+much methods of fighting may vary from generation to
+generation, there is no break in continuity of a great
+tradition, that the spirits of laughter and high adventure are
+immortal in the make-up of the British soldier.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Ian's story is doubly fitting. As President of the
+Metropolitan Area of the British Legion he is intimately
+concerned with the after-war welfare of just that Tommy
+Atkins who is immortalised in these pages. In the second
+place, all profits from the sale of this book will be devoted
+to the cause which the Higher Command in every branch of
+the Services is fostering&mdash;the British Legion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
+<img src="images/i004.jpg" width="250" height="400" alt="" />
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td><a href="#SIR_IAN_HAMILTONS_STORY">SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">1.</td><td align="left"><a href="#ACTION">ACTION</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">2.</td><td align="left"><a href="#LULL">LULL</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">3.</td><td align="left"><a href="#HOSPITAL">HOSPITAL</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">4.</td><td align="left"><a href="#HIGH_SEAS">HIGH SEAS</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align="right">5.</td><td align="left"><a href="#HERE_AND_THERE">HERE AND THERE</a></td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2><a name="SIR_IAN_HAMILTONS_STORY" id="SIR_IAN_HAMILTONS_STORY">SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>The Great War was a matrix wherein many anecdotes have sprouted.
+They are short-lived plants&mdash;fragile as mushrooms&mdash;none too easy
+to extricate either, embedded as they are in the mass.</p>
+
+<p>To dig out the character of a General even from the plans of his General
+Staff is difficult; how much more difficult to dig out the adventures of
+Number 1000 Private Thomas Atkins from those of the other 999 who
+went "like one man" with him over the top? In the side-shows there
+was more scope for the individual and in the Victorian wars much more
+scope. To show the sort of thing I mean I am going to put down here
+for the first time an old story, almost forgotten now, in the hopes that
+it may interest by its contrast to barrages and barbed wire. Although
+only an old-fashioned affair of half a dozen bullets and three or four dead
+men it was a great event to me as it led to my first meeting with the
+great little Bobs of Kandahar.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning of September 11, 1879, I lay shivering with fever
+and ague at Alikhel in Afghanistan. So sick did I seem that it was
+decided I should be carried a day's march back to G.H.Q. on the Peiwar
+Kotal to see if the air of that high mountain pass would help me to pull
+myself round. Polly Forbes, a boy subaltern not very long from Eton,
+was sent off to play the part of nurse.</p>
+
+<p>We reached the Peiwar Kotal without any adventure, and were
+allotted a tent in the G.H.Q. camp pitched where the road between
+the Kurram Valley and Kabul ran over the high Kotal or pass. Next
+morning, although still rather weak in the knees, I felt game for a
+ride to the battlefield. So we rode along the high ridge through the
+forest of giant deodars looking for mementoes of the battle. The
+fact was that we were, although we knew it not, in a very dangerous
+No Man's Land.</p>
+
+<p>We had reached a point about two miles from camp when we were
+startled by half a dozen shots fired in quick succession and still more
+startled to see some British soldiers rushing down towards us from the
+top of a steep-sided knoll which crowned the ridge to our immediate
+front.</p>
+
+<p>Close past us rushed those fugitives and on, down the hillside, where
+at last, some hundred yards below us, they pulled up in answer to our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+shouts. But no amount of shouts or orders would bring them up to us,
+so we had to get off our ponies and go down to them. There were seven
+of them&mdash;a Corporal and three men belonging to one of the new short
+service battalions and three signallers&mdash;very shaky the whole lot. Only
+one was armed with his rifle; he had been on sentry-go at the moment
+the signalling picquet had been rushed&mdash;so they said&mdash;by a large body
+of Afghans.</p>
+
+<p>What was to be done? I realised that I was the senior. Turning
+to the Corporal I asked him if he could ride. "Yes, sir," he replied
+rather eagerly. "Well, then," I commanded, "you get on to that little
+white mare up there and ride like hell to G.H.Q. for help. You others
+go up with him and await orders." Off they went, scrambling up the hill,
+Forbes and I following rather slowly because of my weakness. When
+we got up to the path, ponies, syces, all had disappeared except that one
+soldier who had stuck to his rifle.</p>
+
+<p>All was as still as death in the forest where we three now stood alone.
+"Where are the others?" I asked the man. "I think they must be
+killed." "Do you think they are up there?" "Yessir!" So I
+turned to Forbes and said, "If there are wounded or dead up there we
+must go and see what we can do."</p>
+
+<p>Where we stood we were a bit far away from the top of the wooded
+hill for a jezail shot to carry and once we began to climb the slope
+we found ourselves in dead ground. Nearing the top, my heart
+jumped into my mouth as I all but put my foot on a man's face.
+Though I dared not take my eyes off the brushwood on the top of
+the hill, out of the corner of my eye I was aware he was a lascar
+and that he must be dead, for his head had nearly been severed from
+his body.</p>
+
+<p>At that same moment we heard a feeble cry in Hindustani, "<i>Shabash,
+Sahib log, chello!</i>" "Bravo, Gentlemen, come along!" This came
+from another lascar shot through the body&mdash;a plucky fellow. "<i>Dushman
+kahan hain?</i>"&mdash;"Where are the enemy?" I whispered. "When the
+sahibs shouted from below they ran away," he said, and at that, side
+by side with the revolvers raised to fire, Forbes and I stepped out on to
+the cleared and levelled summit of the hill, a space about fifteen feet
+by twenty.</p>
+
+<p>All was quiet and seemed entirely normal. There stood the helio
+and there lay the flags. Most astonishing of all, there, against a pile of
+logs, rested the priceless rifles of the picquet guard with their accoutrements
+and ammunition pouches lying on the ground beside them. Making
+a sign to Forbes we laid down our revolvers ready to hand, took, each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
+of us, a rifle, loaded it, fixed the bayonet and stood at the ready facing
+the edge of the forest about thirty yards away.</p>
+
+<p>Even in these days when my memory is busy chucking its seventy
+years or so of accumulations overboard, the memory of that tense watch
+into the forest remains as fresh as ever. For the best part of half an
+hour it must have lasted. At last we heard them&mdash;not the Afghans but
+our own chaps, coming along the ridge and now they were making their
+way in open order up the hill&mdash;a company of British Infantry together
+with a few Pathan auxiliaries, the whole under command of Captain
+Stratton of the 22nd Foot, head Signaller to the Force.</p>
+
+<p>In few words my story was told and at once bold Stratton determined
+to pursue down the far side of the hill. Stratton had told me to go back
+to camp, but I did not consider that an order and, keeping on the extreme
+left of the line so that he should not see me, I pushed along.</p>
+
+<p>I noticed that the young soldier of the picquet who had stuck to his
+rifle was still keeping by me as the long line advanced down the slope,
+which gradually bifurcated into two distinct spurs. The further we
+went the wider apart drew the spurs and the deeper became the intervening
+nullah. Captain Stratton, Forbes, and the Regimental Company
+commander were all on the other or eastern spur and the men kept
+closing in towards them, until at last everyone, bar myself and my one
+follower, had cleared off the western spur. I did not want to cross the
+nullah, feeling too weak and tired to force my way through the thick
+undergrowth. Soon we could no longer hear or see the others.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly I heard Click! "Take cover!" I shouted and flung myself
+behind a big stone. Sure enough, the moment often imagined had come!
+Not more than twenty paces down the slope an old, white-bearded,
+wicked-looking Enemy was aiming at me with his long jezail from behind
+a fallen log. Click! again. Another misfire.</p>
+
+<p>Now I was musketry instructor of my regiment, which had been the
+best shooting regiment in India the previous year. My revolver was a
+rotten little weapon, but I knew its tricks. As the Afghan fumbled with
+his lock I took aim and began to squeeze the trigger. Another instant
+and he would have been dead when bang! went a rifle behind me;
+my helmet tilted over my eyes, my shot went where we found it next day,
+about six feet up into a tree. The young soldier had opened rapid fire
+just over my head.</p>
+
+<p>At the same time, I saw another Afghan come crouching through the
+brushwood below me towards a point where he would be able to enfilade
+my stone. I shouted to my comrade, "I'm coming back to you," and
+turned to make for his tree. Luck was with me. At that very moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
+bang went the jezail and when we dug out the bullet next morning and
+marked the line of fire, it became evident that had I not so turned I
+would never have sat spinning this yarn.</p>
+
+<p>That shot was a parting salute. There were shouts from the right of
+the line, and as I was making for my tree the Afghans made off in the
+other direction. I shouted to Stratton and his men to press down to
+the foot of the hill, working round to the north so as to cut off the raiders.
+Then, utterly exhausted, I began my crawl back to the camp.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after I had got in I was summoned into the presence of the
+redoubtable Bobs. Although I had marched past him at Kohat this
+was my first face-to-face meeting with one who was to play the part of
+Providence to my career. He made me sit in a chair and at once performed
+the almost incredible feat of putting me entirely at my ease.
+This he did by pouring a golden liquid called sherry into a very large
+wine-glass. Hardly had I swallowed this elixir when I told him all about
+everything, which was exactly what he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>A week later the Commander of the Cavalry Brigade, Redan Massy,
+applied to Headquarters for an Aide-de-Camp. Sir Fred Roberts
+advised him to take me. That billet led to unimaginable bliss. Surrounding
+villages by moonlight, charging across the Logar Valley,
+despising all foot sloggers&mdash;every sort of joy I had longed for. The men
+of the picquet who had run away were tried by Court Martial and got
+long sentences, alas&mdash;poor chaps! The old Mullah was sent to his long
+account by Stratton.</p>
+
+<p>But that is the point of most war stories; when anyone gets a lift up
+it is by the misfortune or death of someone else.</p>
+
+<div class="right"><span class="smcap">Ian Hamilton.</span><br /></div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center"><big><b>COCKNEY WAR STORIES</b></big></div>
+
+<h2><a name="ACTION" id="ACTION">1. ACTION</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>The Outside Fare</h3>
+
+<p>During the third battle of Ypres a German field gun was trying to
+hit one of our tanks, the fire being directed no doubt by an observation
+balloon.</p>
+
+<p>On the top of the tank was a Cockney infantryman getting a free ride
+and seemingly quite unconcerned at Jerry's attempts to score a direct
+hit on the tank.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i013.jpg" width="600" height="514" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Hi, conductor! Any room inside?&mdash;it's rainin'!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As the tank was passing our guns a shrapnel shell burst just behind it
+and above it.</p>
+
+<p>We expected to see the Cockney passenger roll off dead. All he did,
+however, was to put his hand to his mouth and shout to those inside the
+tank: "Hi, conductor! Any room inside?&mdash;it's rainin'!"&mdash;<i>A. H.
+Boughton (ex "B" Battery, H.A.C.), 53 Dafforne Road, S.W.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Barbed Wire's Dangerous!"</h3>
+
+<p>A wiring party in the Loos salient&mdash;twelve men just out from
+home. Jerry's Verey lights were numerous, machine-guns were
+unpleasantly busy, and there were all the dangers and alarms incidental
+to a sticky part of the line. The wiring party, carrying stakes and wire,
+made its way warily, and every man breathed apprehensively. Suddenly
+one London lad tripped over a piece of old barbed wire and almost fell
+his length.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme," he exclaimed, "that ain't 'arf dangerous!"&mdash;<i>T. C.
+Farmer, M.C., of Euston Square, London (late of "The Buffs").</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Tale of an Egg</h3>
+
+<p>I was attached as a signaller to a platoon on duty in an advanced
+post on the Ypres-Menin Road. We had two pigeons as an emergency
+means of communication should our wire connection fail.</p>
+
+<p>One afternoon Fritz put on a strafe which blew in the end of the
+culvert in which we were stationed. We rescued the pigeon basket from
+the debris and discovered that an egg had appeared.</p>
+
+<p>That evening, when the time came to send in the usual evening "situation
+report," I was given the following message to transmit:</p>
+
+<p>"Pigeon laid one egg; otherwise situation normal."&mdash;<i>D. Webster,
+85 Highfield Avenue, N.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"No Earfkwikes"</h3>
+
+<p>On a bitterly cold, wet afternoon in February 1918 four privates
+and a corporal were trying to take what shelter they could. One
+little Cockney who had served in the Far East with the 10th Middlesex
+was complaining about everything in general, but especially about the
+idiocy of waging war in winter.</p>
+
+<p>"Wot yer grumblin' at?" broke in the corporal, "you with yer
+fawncy tyles of Inja? At any rate, there ain't no blinking moskeeters
+'ere nor 'orrible malyria."</p>
+
+<p>There was a break in the pleasantries as a big one came over. In
+the subsequent explosion the little Cockney was fatally wounded.</p>
+
+<p>"Corpril," the lad gasped, as he lay under that wintry sky, "you
+fergot to menshun there ain't no bloomin' sun-stroke, <i>nor no earfkwikes,
+neither</i>."</p>
+
+<p>And he smiled&mdash;a delightful, whimsical smile&mdash;though the corporal's
+"Sorry, son" was too late.&mdash;<i>V. Meik, 107 King Henry's Road, N.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A "Bow Bells" Heroine</h3>
+
+<p>For seven hours, with little intermission, the German airmen
+bombed a camp not a hundred miles from Etaples. Of the handful
+of Q.M.A.A.C.s stationed there, one was an eighteen-year-old middle-class
+girl, high-strung, sensitive, not long finished with her convent school.
+Another was Kitty, a Cockney girl of twenty, by occupation a machine-hand,
+by vocation (missed) a comédienne, and, by heaven, a heroine.</p>
+
+<p>The high courage of the younger girl was cracking under the strain of
+that ordeal by bombs. Kitty saw how it was with her, and for five
+long hours she gave a recital of song, dialogue, and dance&mdash;most of it
+improvised&mdash;while the bombs fell and the anti-aircraft guns screamed.
+In all probability she saved the younger girl's reason.</p>
+
+<p>When the last raider had dropped the last bomb, Kitty sank down,
+all but exhausted, and for long cried and laughed hysterically. Hers
+was not the least heroic part played upon that night.&mdash;<i>H. N., London, E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Samson, but Shorn</h3>
+
+<p>During the German attack near Zillebeke in June 1916 a diminutive
+Cockney, named Samson, oddly enough, received a scalp wound
+from a shell splinter which furrowed a neat path through his hair.</p>
+
+<p>The fighting was rather hot at the time, and this great-hearted little
+Londoner carried on with the good work.</p>
+
+<p>Some hours later came the order to fall back, and as the Cockney
+was making his way down the remains of a trench, dazed and staggering,
+a harassed sergeant, himself nearly "all in," ordered him to bear off a
+couple of rifles and a box of ammunition.</p>
+
+<p>This was the last straw. "Strike, sergeant," he said, weakly, "I
+can't 'elp me name being Samson, but I've just 'ad me perishin' 'air
+cut!"&mdash;"<i>Townie," R.A.F.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"What's Bred in the Bone&mdash;&mdash;!"</h3>
+
+<p>When we were at Railway Wood, Ypres Salient, in 1916, "Muddy
+Lane," our only communication trench from the front line to the
+support line, had been reduced to shapelessness by innumerable
+"heavies." Progress in either direction entailed exposure to snipers
+in at least twelve different places, and runners and messengers were, as
+our sergeant put it, "tickled all the way."</p>
+
+<p>In the support line one afternoon, hearing the familiar "Crack!
+Crack! Crack!" I went to Muddy Lane junction to await the advertised
+visitor. He arrived&mdash;a wiry little Cockney Tommy, with his tin hat
+dented in two places and blood trickling from a bullet graze on the cheek.</p>
+
+<p>In appreciation of the risk he had run I remarked, "Jerry seems to be
+watching that bit!"</p>
+
+<p>"Watching!" he replied. "'Struth! I felt like I was walking
+darn Sarthend Pier naked!"&mdash;<i>Vernon Sylvaine, late Somerset L.I.,
+Grand Theatre, Croydon.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Very Human Concertina</h3>
+
+<p>In March 1918, when Jerry was making his last great attack, I was
+in the neighbourhood of Petit Barisis when three enemy bombing
+planes appeared overhead and gave us their load. After all was clear
+I overheard this dialogue between two diminutive privates of the 7th
+Battalion, the London Regiment ("Shiny Seventh"), who were on
+guard duty at the Q.M. Stores:</p>
+
+<p>"You all right, Bill?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, George!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where'd you get to, Bill, when he dropped his eggs?"</p>
+
+<p>"Made a blooming concertina of meself and got underneaf me blinkin'
+tin 'at!"&mdash;<i>F. A. Newman, 8 Levett Gardens, Ilford, Ex-Q.M.S., 8th
+London (Post Office Rifles).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A One-Man Army</h3>
+
+<p>The 47th London Division were holding the line in the Bluff sector,
+near Ypres, early in 1917, and the 20th London Battalion were being
+relieved on a very wet evening, as I was going up to the front line with
+a working party.</p>
+
+<p>Near Hell Fire Corner shells were coming over at about three-minute
+intervals. One of the 20th London Lewis gunners was passing in full
+fighting order, with fur coat, gum boots, etc., carrying his Lewis gun,
+several drums of ammunition, and the inevitable rum jar.</p>
+
+<p>One of my working party, a typical Cockney, surveyed him and said:</p>
+
+<p>"Look! Blimey, he only wants a field gun under each arm and he'd
+be a bally division."&mdash;<i>Lieut.-Col. J. H. Langton, D.S.O.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Nah, Mate! Soufend!"</h3>
+
+<p>During the heavy rains in the summer of 1917 our headquarters
+dug-out got flooded. So a fatigue party was detailed to bale it
+out.</p>
+
+<p>"Long Bert" Smith was one of our baling squad. Because of his
+abnormal reach, he was stationed at the "crab-crawl," his job being to
+throw the water outside as we handed the buckets up to him.</p>
+
+<p>It was a dangerous post. Jerry was pasting the whole area unmercifully
+and shell splinters pounded on the dug-out roof every few seconds.</p>
+
+<p>Twenty minutes after we had started work Bert got badly hit, and it
+was some time before the stretcher-bearers could venture out to him.
+When they did so he seemed to be unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor blighter!" said one of the bearers. "Looks to be going
+West."</p>
+
+<p>Bert, game to the last, opened his eyes and, seeing the canvas bucket
+still convulsively clutched in his right fist, "Nah, mate!" he grunted&mdash;"Soufend!"</p>
+
+<p>But the stretcher-bearer was right.&mdash;<i>C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street,
+W.C.I.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I Got 'Ole Nelson Beat!"</h3>
+
+<p>Several stretcher cases in the field dressing station at the foot of
+"Chocolate Hill," Gallipoli, awaited removal by ambulance, including
+a Cockney trooper in the dismounted Yeomanry.</p>
+
+<p>He had a bandage round his head, only one eye was visible, and his
+left arm was bound to his breast with a sandbag.</p>
+
+<p>His rapid-fire of Cockney witticisms had helped to keep our spirits
+up while waiting&mdash;he had a comment for everything. Suddenly a
+"strafe" started, and a shrapnel shell shot its load among us.</p>
+
+<p>Confusion, shouts, and moans&mdash;then a half-hysterical, half-triumphant
+shout from the Cockney: "Lumme, one in the blinkin' leg this time.
+I got 'ole Nelson beat at last!"&mdash;<i>J. Coomer (late R.E.), 31 Hawthorn
+Avenue, Thornton Heath.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Two Kinds of Fatalist</h3>
+
+<p>A German sniper was busy potting at our men in a front-line trench
+at Cambrai in March 1918. A Cockney "old sweat," observing
+a youngster gazing over the parapet, asked him if he were a fatalist.</p>
+
+<p>The youngster replied "Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"So am I," said the Cockney, "but I believes in duckin'."&mdash;"<i>Brownie,"
+Kensal Rise, N.W.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Double up, Beauty Chorus!</h3>
+
+<p>One summer afternoon in '15 some lads of the Rifle Brigade were
+bathing in the lake in the grounds of the château at Elverdinghe,
+a mile or so behind the line at Ypres, when German shells began to land
+uncomfortably near. The swimmers immediately made for the land,
+and, drawing only boots on their feet, dashed for the cellar in the
+château.</p>
+
+<p>As they hurried into the shelter a Cockney sergeant bellowed, "Nah
+then, booty chorus: double up an' change for the next act!"&mdash;<i>G E.
+Roberts, M.C. (late Genl. List, att'd 21st Divn. Signal Co.), 28 Sunbury
+Gardens, Mill Hill, N.W.7.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Theatre of War</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of Arras, Easter 1917, we were lying out in front
+of our wire in extended order waiting for our show to begin. Both
+our artillery and that of Fritz were bombarding as hard as they could.
+It was pouring with rain, and everybody was caked in mud.</p>
+
+<p>Our platoon officer, finding he had a good supply of chocolate, and
+realising that rations might not be forthcoming for some time, crept along
+the line and gave us each a piece.</p>
+
+<p>As he handed a packet to one cheerful Cockney he was asked, "Wot
+abaht a programme, sir?"&mdash;<i>W. B. Finch (late London Regiment),
+155 High Road, Felixstowe.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"It's the Skivvy's 'Arf Day Orf"</h3>
+
+<p>Easter Monday, April 9, 1917. Night. Inches of snow and a
+weird silence everywhere after the turmoil of the day. Our battalion
+is held up in front of Monchy-le-Preux during the battle of Arras. I am
+sent out with a patrol to reconnoitre one of our tanks that is crippled and
+astride the German wire 300 yards out.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 541px;">
+<img src="images/i018.jpg" width="541" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I'll have to let yer in meself ... it's the skivvy's 'arf day orf!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>It is ticklish work, because the crew may be dead or wounded and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+Fritz in occupation. Very warily we creep around the battered monster
+and presently I tap gingerly on one of the doors. No response. We
+crawl to the other side and repeat the tapping process. At last, through
+the eerie silence, comes a low, hoarse challenge.</p>
+
+<p>"Oo are yer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fusiliers!" I reply, as I look up and see a tousled head sticking
+through a hole in the roof.</p>
+
+<p>"Ho!" exclaims the voice above, "I'll 'ave ter come dahn and let
+yer in meself, it's the skivvy's 'arf day orf!"</p>
+
+<p>The speaker proved to have a shattered arm&mdash;among other things&mdash;and
+was the sole survivor of the crew.&mdash;<i>D. K., Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cricket on the Somme</h3>
+
+<p>"Spider" Webb was a Cockney&mdash;from Stepney, I believe&mdash;who
+was with us on the Somme in 1916. He was a splendid cricketer.</p>
+
+<p>We had had a very stiff time for six or seven hours and were resting
+during a lull in the firing. Then suddenly Jerry sent over five shells.
+After a pause another shell came over and burst near to "Spider" and
+his two pals.</p>
+
+<p>When the smoke cleared I went across to see what had happened.
+"Spider's" two pals were beyond help. The Cockney was propping
+himself up with his elbows surveying the scene.</p>
+
+<p>"What's happened, Webb?" I said. "Blimey! What's happened?"
+was the reply. "One over&mdash;two bowled" (and, looking
+down at his leg)&mdash;"and I'm stumped." Then he fainted.&mdash;<i>George
+Franks, M.C. (late Lieut., Royal Artillery), Ilford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>M'Lord, of Hoxton</h3>
+
+<p>We called him "M'lord." He came from Hoxton&mdash;"That's where
+they make 'em," he used to say. He was a great asset to us, owing
+to the wonderful way in which he went out and "won" things.</p>
+
+<p>One night, near Amiens, in 1916, "M'lord" said, "I'm going aht to see
+wot some uvver mob has got too much of." One or two of us offered to
+accompany him, but he refused, saying, "You bloomin' elephants 'ud
+be bahnd to give the gime away."</p>
+
+<p>About three hours later, when we were beginning to get anxious, we
+saw him staggering in with a badly wounded German, who was smoking
+a cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing us, and very much afraid of being thought soft-hearted,
+"M'lord" plumped old Fritz down on the fire-step and said very fiercely,
+"Don't you dare lean on me wif impunity, or wif a fag in your mouf."</p>
+
+<p>Jerry told us later that he had lain badly wounded in a deserted
+farmhouse for over two days, and "M'lord" had almost carried him
+for over a mile.</p>
+
+<p>"M'lord" was killed later on in the war. Our battalion was the 7th
+Batt. Royal Fusiliers (London Regt.)&mdash;<i>W. A., Windsor.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Tall Man's War</h3>
+
+<p>In our platoon was a very tall chap who was always causing us great
+amusement because of his height. Naturally he showed his head
+above the parapet more often than the rest of us, and whenever he did so
+<i>ping</i> would come a bullet from a sniper and down our tall chum would
+drop in an indescribably funny acrobatic fashion.</p>
+
+<p>The climax came at Delville Wood in August 1916, when, taking over
+the line, we found the trench knocked about in a way that made it most
+uncomfortable for all of us. Here our tall friend had to resort to his
+acrobatics more than ever: at times he would crawl on all fours to
+"dodge 'em." One shot, however, caused him to dive down more
+quickly than usual&mdash;right into a sump hole in the trench.</p>
+
+<p>Recovering himself, he turned to us and, with an expression of unutterable
+disgust, exclaimed, "You blokes can laugh; anybody 'ud
+fink I was the only blighter in this war."&mdash;<i>C. Bragg (late Rifle Brigade,
+14th Division), 61 Hinton Road, Herne Hill, S.E.24.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Germany Didn't Know This</h3>
+
+<p>One night in June 1916, on the Somme, we were ordered to leave
+our line and go over and dig an advance trench. We returned to our
+trench before dawn, and shortly afterwards my chum, "Pussy" Harris,
+said to me, "I have left my rifle in No Man's Land."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," I said, "there are plenty more. Don't go over
+there: the snipers are sure to get you."</p>
+
+<p>But my advice was all in vain; he insisted on going. When I asked
+him why he wanted that particular rifle he said, "Well, the barrel is
+bent, <i>and it can shoot round corners</i>."</p>
+
+<p>He went over....</p>
+
+<p>That night I saw the regimental carpenter going along the trench
+with a roughly-made wooden cross inscribed "R.I.P. Pte. Harris."&mdash;<i>W.
+Ford, 613 Becontree Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Better than the Crystal Palace</h3>
+
+<p>One night, while going round the line at Loos, I was accompanied
+by Sergeant Winslow, who was a London coster before the war.</p>
+
+<p>We were examining the field of fire of a Lewis gun, when the Germans
+opened up properly on our sector. Clouds of smoke rose from the
+surrounding trenches, crash after crash echoed around the old Loos
+crassier, and night was turned into day by Verey lights sent up by both
+sides.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a lad of 18, just out, turned to Sergeant Winslow, and in a
+quivering voice said: "My God, sergeant, this is awful!"</p>
+
+<p>Sergeant Winslow replied: "Now, look 'ere, me lad, you'd have
+paid 'alf a dollar to take your best gal to see this at the Crystal Palace
+before the war. What are yer grousing abaht?"&mdash;<i>A. E. Grant (late
+17th Welch Regt.), 174 Broom Road, Teddington.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Short Week-end</h3>
+
+<p>One Saturday evening I was standing by my dug-out in Sausage
+Valley, near Fricourt, when a draft of the Middlesex Regt. halted
+for the guide to take them up to the front line where the battalion was.
+I had a chat with one of the lads, who told me he had left England on
+the Friday.</p>
+
+<p>They moved off, and soon things got lively; a raid and counter-raid
+started.</p>
+
+<p>Later the casualties began to come down, and the poor chaps were
+lying around outside the 1st C.C.S. (which was next to my dug-out).
+On a stretcher was my friend of the draft. He was pretty badly hit.
+I gave him a cigarette and tried to cheer him by telling him he would
+soon be back in England. With a feeble smile he said, "Blimey, sir,
+this 'as been a short week-end, ain't it?"&mdash;<i>Pope Stamper (15th Durham
+L.I.), 188A Upper Richmond Road, East Sheen, S.W.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Simultaneous Chess</h3>
+
+<p>At Aubers Ridge, near Fromelles, in October 1918, my chum and I
+were engrossed in a game of chess, our chessboard being a waterproof
+sheet with the squares painted on it, laid across a slab of concrete
+from a destroyed pill-box.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans began to drop 5·9's with alarming regularity about 150
+yards to our rear, temporarily distracting our attention from the game.</p>
+
+<p>Returning to the game, I said to my chum, "Whose move, Joe?"</p>
+
+<p>Before he could reply a shell landed with a deafening roar within a
+few yards of us, but luckily did not explode (hence this story).</p>
+
+<p>His reply was: "Ours"&mdash;and we promptly did.&mdash;<i>B. Greenfield, M.M.
+(late Cpl. R.F.A., 47th (London) Division), L.C.C. Parks Dept., Tooting
+Bec Common, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Fire-step Philosophy</h3>
+
+<p>On July 1, 1916, I happened to be among those concerned in the
+attack on the German line in front of Serre, near Beaumont Hamel.
+Our onslaught at that point was not conspicuously successful, but we
+managed to establish ourselves temporarily in what had been the Boche
+front line, to the unconcealed indignation of the previous tenants.</p>
+
+<p>During a short lull in the subsequent proceedings I saw one of my
+company&mdash;an elderly private whose melancholy countenance and
+lank black moustache will ever remain engraved on my memory&mdash;seated
+tranquilly on the battered fire-step, engrossed in a certain humorous
+journal.</p>
+
+<p>Meeting my astonished eye, he observed in a tone of mild resentment:
+"This 'ere's a dud, sir. 'S not a joke in it&mdash;not what <i>I</i> calls a joke,
+anyway."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he rose, pocketed the paper, and proceeded placidly to get
+on with the war.&mdash;<i>K. R. G. Browne, 6B Winchester Road, N.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Teddie" Gets the Last Word</h3>
+
+<p>Sergeant "Teddie" was rather deaf, but I am inclined to think
+that this slight affliction enabled him to pull our legs on occasions.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i022.jpg" width="600" height="552" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"A quarter to seven, sir."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Our company of the London Regiment had just taken over a part of
+the line known as the Paris Redoubt, and on the first evening in the
+sector the company commander, the second in command, Sergeant
+"Teddie," and myself had a stroll along the observation line, which
+was just forward of the front line, in order to visit the various posts.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a salvo of shells came over and one burst perilously near us.
+Three of the party adopted the prone position in record time, but on our
+looking round "Teddie" was seen to be still standing and apparently
+quite unconcerned.</p>
+
+<p>"Why the dickens didn't you get down?" said one of the party,
+turning to him. "It nearly had us that time."</p>
+
+<p>"Time?" said "Teddie," looking at his watch. "A quarter to
+seven, sir."&mdash;<i>J. S. O. (late C.S.M., 15th London Regt.).</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Nobbler's" Grouse</h3>
+
+<p>Just before the battle of Messines we of the 23rd Londons were
+holding the Bluff sector to the right of Hill 60. "Stand down" was
+the order, and the sergeant was coming round with the rum.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobbler," late of the Mile End Road, was watching him in joyful
+anticipation when ... a whizz-bang burst on the parapet, hurling
+men in all directions. No one was hurt ... but the precious rum jar
+was shattered.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobbler," sitting up in the mud and moving his tin hat from his left
+eye the better to gaze upon the ruin, murmured bitterly: "Louvain&mdash;Rheims&mdash;the
+<i>Lusitania</i>&mdash;and now our perishin' rum issue. Jerry, you
+'eathen, you gets worse and worse. But, my 'at, won't you cop it when
+'Aig knows abaht this!"&mdash;<i>E. H. Oliver, Lanark House, Woodstock,
+Oxford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Dust in 'Indenburg's Sauerkraut!</h3>
+
+<p>To all those thousands who remember Shrapnel Corner and the
+sign: "DRIVE SLOWLY! SPEED CAUSES DUST WHICH
+DRAWS THE ENEMY'S SHELL FIRE" this incident will appeal.</p>
+
+<p>I had rounded the corner into Zillebeke Road with a load of ammunition,
+and had gone about 200 yards along the road, when Fritz let go
+with a few shells.</p>
+
+<p>"Rum Ration" (my mate's nick-name) looked out of the lorry to
+observe where the shells were falling.</p>
+
+<p>"Nah we're for it," he exclaimed, "our dust must 'ave gorn into
+ole 'Indenberg's blinkin' sauerkraut."&mdash;<i>J. H. Clarke, ex-Pte., M.T.A.S.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Valiant Son of London</h3>
+
+<p>Crack! Crack! Crack!&mdash;and men falling with each crack.
+It is terrible; we are faced with mud, misery, and despair. A German
+machine-gun is taking its toll.</p>
+
+<p>It seems impossible to get at the gunners, and we spend hours lying
+in wait. This waiting proves too much for one of us; single-handed he
+takes a chance and crawls away from my side. I keep him covered;
+minutes roll by; they seem hours, days; and, as he is now out of sight,
+I begin to give up hope for him, my Cockney pal.</p>
+
+<p>Some instinct warns me to keep watch, and I am rewarded. I feel my
+eyes start from my head as I see the approaching procession&mdash;four
+Germans, hands above their heads, and my pal following, carrying the
+machine-gun across his shoulders. I marvel at his courage and wonder
+how it was done ... but this I am never to know. As I leap from the
+trench to give him assistance I realise his number is nearly up. He is
+covered with blood.</p>
+
+<p>I go to relieve him of his burden, and in that moment one of the
+Germans, sensing that my pal is almost out, turns on us with his
+revolver. We are held at the pistol-point and I know I must make a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+desperate bid to save my pal, who has done his best in an act which saved
+a portion of our line.</p>
+
+<p>I drop the gun and, with a quick movement, I am able to trip the
+nearest German, but he is quick too and manages to stick me (and I still
+carry the mark of his bayonet in my side).</p>
+
+<p>The realisation I am still able to carry on, that life is sweet, holds me
+up, and, with a pluck that showed his determination and Cockney
+courage, my pal throws himself into a position in which he can work the
+gun. <i>Crack!</i> and <i>Crack!</i> again: the remaining Germans are brought
+down.</p>
+
+<p>I am weak with loss of blood, but I am still able to drag my pal with
+me, and, aided by his determination, we get through. It seems we
+are at peace with the world. But, alas, when only five yards from our
+trenches a shell bursts beside us; I have a stinging pain in my shoulder
+and cannot move! Machine-guns and rifles are playing hell.</p>
+
+<p>My pal, though mortally wounded, still tries to drag me to our trench.
+He reaches the parapet ... <i>Zip</i> ... <i>Zip</i>. The first has missed, but
+the second gets him. It is a fatal shot, and, though in the greatest
+agony, he manages to give me a message to his folks....</p>
+
+<p>He died at my side, unrewarded by man. The stretcher-bearer told
+me that he had five bullet-holes in him. He lies in France to-day, and
+I owe my life to him, and again I pay homage to his memory and to him
+as one of England's greatest heroes&mdash;a Valiant Son of London.&mdash;<i>John
+Batten (late Rifleman, 13 Bn., K.R.R.C.), 50 Sussex Gardens, Hyde Park,
+W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Hint to the Brigadier</h3>
+
+<p>Alec Lancaster was a showman at the White City in pre-war
+days. Short in stature, he possessed a mighty heart, and in the
+ghastly days in front of Poelcapelle he made history as the sergeant who
+took command of a brigadier.</p>
+
+<p>The brigadier had been on a visit to the front line to inspect a new
+belt of wire and, passing the &mdash;&mdash; headquarters, paused to look around.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a few shells came over in quick succession and things looked
+nasty.</p>
+
+<p>Alec Lancaster took command and guided the brigadier somewhat
+forcibly into a dug-out with the laconic, "Nah, then. We don't want
+any dead brigadiers rahnd 'ere."&mdash;<i>Geo. B. Fuller, 146 Rye Road, Hoddesdon,
+Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Salvage? Yus, Me!"</h3>
+
+<p>On the third day of the German offensive in March 1918 a certain
+brigade of the R.F.A. was retiring on Péronne.</p>
+
+<p>A driver, hailing from London town, was in charge of the cook's cart,
+which contained officers' kits belonging to the headquarters' staff.</p>
+
+<p>As he was making his way along a "pip-squeak" came over and
+burst practically beneath the vehicle and blew the whole issue to pieces.
+The driver had a miraculous escape.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>When he recovered from the shock he ruefully surveyed the debris,
+and after deciding that nothing could be done, continued his journey
+on foot into Péronne.</p>
+
+<p>Just outside that town he was met by the Adjutant, who said, "Hullo,
+driver, what's happened&mdash;where's cook's cart with the kits?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Driver</span>: Blown up, sir.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Adjutant</span> (<i>anxiously</i>): Anything salved?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Driver</span>: Yus, sir, me!&mdash;<i>F. H. Seabright, 12 Broomhill Road, Goodmayes,
+Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Almost Self-inflicted</h3>
+
+<p>The London (47th) Division, after a strenuous time on the Somme
+in September 1916, were sent to Ypres for a quiet (?) spell, the
+depleted ranks being made up by reserves from home who joined us <i>en
+route</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The 18th Battalion (London Irish), were informed on taking the line
+that their opponents were men of the very same German regiment as
+they had opposed and vanquished at High Wood.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after "stand down" the following morning Rifleman S&mdash;&mdash;
+mounted the fire-step and, cupping his hands to his mouth, shouted,
+"Compree 'Igh Wood, Fritz?"</p>
+
+<p>The words had hardly left his lips when <i>zip</i>, a sniper's bullet knocked
+his tin hat off his head and Rifleman S&mdash;&mdash; found himself lying on the
+duckboards with blood running down his face.</p>
+
+<p>Picking himself up, he calmly gathered his souvenirs together and said
+as he made his way out, "Cheerio, boys, I've got a Blighty one, but
+don't tell the colonel it was self-inflicted."&mdash;<i>A. C. B., Ilford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Nobby's 1,000 to 1 Chance</h3>
+
+<p>Our division (the Third) was on its way from the line for the long-looked-for
+rest. We were doing it by road in easy stages.</p>
+
+<p>During a halt a pack animal (with its load of two boxes of "·303")
+became restive and bolted. One box fell off and was being dragged by
+the lashing. Poor old Nobby Clarke, who had been out since Mons,
+stopped the box with his leg, which was broken below the knee.</p>
+
+<p>As he was being carried away one of the stretcher-bearers said, "Well,
+Nobby, you've got a Blighty one at last."</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," said Nobby; "but it took a fousand rahnds to knock me
+over."&mdash;<i>H. Krepper (late 5th Fusiliers), 62 Anerley Road, Upper Norwood,
+S.E. 19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Derby Scheme</h3>
+
+<p>The Commanding Officer of a Territorial battalion was wounded in
+both hands during the third battle of Gaza in 1917. He had much
+service to his credit, was a lieutenant-colonel of over two years' standing,
+had been wounded twice before, and held the D.S.O.</p>
+
+<p>He pluckily remained with his unit for thirty-six hours. Then, worn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+out with lack of sleep, pain, and loss of blood, and filled with disappointment
+at having to leave his battalion still in the fight, he trudged back to
+the field ambulance.</p>
+
+<p>His sufferings, which had aged his appearance, and the Tommy's
+tunic which he wore in action, apparently misled a party of 10th London
+men whom he passed. They looked sympathetically at him, and one
+said, "Poor old blighter, <i>'e ought never to 'ave been called up</i>."&mdash;<i>Captain
+J. Finn, M.C., Constitutional Club, W.C.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Shoo-Shoo-Shooting"</h3>
+
+<p>There were no proper trenches in front of Armentières in early
+December 1914, and a machine gun section was doing its best to
+build an emplacement and cover. It was in the charge of a young
+Londoner who in times of excitement stuttered badly.</p>
+
+<p>Not being satisfied with the position of one sandbag, he hopped over
+those already in place, and in full view of Jerry (it was daylight too),
+began to adjust the sandbag that displeased him.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry immediately turned a machine gun on him, but the young officer
+finished his work, and then stood up.</p>
+
+<p>Looking towards Jerry as the section yelled to him to come down, he
+stuttered angrily. "I b-b-be-lieve the bli-bli-blighters are shoo-shoo-shoo-shoo-ting
+at me." At that moment someone grabbed his legs and
+pulled him down. It was a fine example of cool nerve.&mdash;<i>T. D., Victoria,
+S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Ancient Britons?&mdash;No!</h3>
+
+<p>It happened late in 1917 in Tank Avenue, just on the left of Monchy-le-Preux.
+It was a foul night of rain, wind, sleet, and whizz-bangs.</p>
+
+<p>My battalion had just been relieved, and we were making our way
+out as best we could down the miry communication trench. Every now
+and again we had to halt and press ourselves against the trench side to
+allow a straggling working party of the K.R.R.s to pass up into the line.</p>
+
+<p>Shells were falling all over the place, and suddenly Fritz dropped one
+right into the trench a few bays away from where I was.</p>
+
+<p>I hurried down and found two of the working party lying on the
+duckboards. They were both wounded, and one of them had his tunic
+ripped off him by the force of the explosion. What with his tattered
+uniform&mdash;and what remained of it&mdash;and his face and bare chest smothered
+in mud, he was a comical though pathetic sight. He still clung to his
+bundle of pickets he had been carrying and he sat up and looked round
+with a puzzled expression.</p>
+
+<p>One of our sergeants&mdash;a rather officious fellow&mdash;pushed himself
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he asked. "K.R.R.s?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Course," retorted the half-naked Cockney. "Oo d'ye fink we was&mdash;Ancient
+Britons?"&mdash;<i>E. Gordon Petrie (late Cameron Highlanders),
+"Hunky-Dory," Demesne Road, Wallington, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Desert Island&mdash;Near Bullecourt</h3>
+
+<p>Between Ecoust and Bullecourt in January 1918 my platoon
+was passing a mine crater which was half-full of water when suddenly
+Jerry sent one over. Six of our fellows were wounded, and one of them,
+a Bow Road Cockney, was hurled into the crater.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 492px;">
+<img src="images/i027.jpg" width="492" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Robinson Crusoe."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He struggled to his feet and staggered towards a pile of rubble that
+rose above the muddy water like an island. Arrived there, he sat down
+and looked round him in bewilderment.
+Then: "Blimey," he muttered, "Robinson ruddy Crusoe!"&mdash;<i>E.
+McQuaid (late R.S.F.), 22 Grove Road, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Tiger's" Little Trick</h3>
+
+<p>On October 11-12, 1914, during the Mons retreat, a small party of
+2nd Life Guards were told off as outpost on the main road, near
+Wyngene, Belgium. After we had tied our horses behind a farmhouse
+at the side of the road, we settled down to await the arrival of "Jerry."</p>
+
+<p>Time went slowly, and one of our troopers suggested that we all put
+a half-franc into an empty "bully" tin, and the first one of us who shot
+a German was to take the lot. To this we all agreed.</p>
+
+<p>It was about midnight when, suddenly, out of the shadows, rode a
+German Death's-head Hussar. We all raised our rifles as one man, but
+before we could shoot "Tiger" Smith, one of our real Cockney troopers,
+shouted, "<i>Don't shoot! Don't shoot!</i>" During our momentary hesitation
+"Tiger's" rifle rang out, and off rolled the German into the road.</p>
+
+<p>Upon our indignant inquiry as to why he had shouted "Don't shoot,"
+"Tiger" quietly said, "Nah, then, none of your old buck; just hand
+over that tin of 'alf francs I've won."&mdash;<i>Fred Bruty (late Corporal of Horse,
+2nd Life Guards), City of London Police Dwellings, No. 3, Ferndale Court,
+Ferndale Road, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Raffle Draw To-night!</h3>
+
+<p>Near St. Quentin, in October 1918, I was in charge of a section
+that was detailed to cross a railway to establish communication
+with troops on the other side. Unfortunately we were spotted by a
+German machine gunner, who made things very hot for us, two men
+being quickly hit. We managed, however, to reach a small mound
+where, by lying quite flat, we were comparatively safe.</p>
+
+<p>Glancing in the direction from which we had come, I saw a man whom
+I recognised as "Topper" Brown, our company runner, dashing as hard
+as he could for the cover where we had sheltered.</p>
+
+<p>"How do, corp?" he said when he came up. "Any of your blokes
+like to go in a raffle for this watch?" (producing same). "'Arf a franc
+a time; draw to-night in St. Quentin."&mdash;<i>S. Hills (late Rifle Brigade),
+213, Ripple Road, Barking.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Exit the General's Dessert</h3>
+
+<p>In the early part of the War we were dug in between the Marne and the
+Aisne with H.Q. situated in a trench along which were growing
+several fruit trees which the troops were forbidden to touch.</p>
+
+<p>The Boche were shelling with what was then considered to be heavy
+stuff, and we were all more or less under cover, when a large one hit
+the back of the trench near H.Q.</p>
+
+<p>After the mess staff had recovered from the shock it was noticed that
+apples were still falling from a tree just above, and the mess corporal,
+his ears and eyes still full of mud, was heard to say: "Thank 'eaven, I
+shan't have to climb that perishin' tree and get the old man's bloomin'
+dessert to-night."&mdash;<i>E. Adamson, Overseas Club, St. James's.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Try on this Coat, Sir"</h3>
+
+<p>In September 1916, while with the 17th K.R.R.C., I lost my overcoat
+in a billet fire at Mailly-Maillet and indented for a new one, which,
+however, failed to turn up.</p>
+
+<p>We moved to Hebuterne, where the line was very lively and the
+working parties used to be strafed with "Minnies" all night.</p>
+
+<p>One night, while on patrol, with nerves on the jump, I was startled to
+hear a voice at my elbow say, "Try this on."</p>
+
+<p>It was the Q.M.'s corporal with the overcoat!</p>
+
+<p>I solemnly tried it on there and then in No Man's Land, about 300
+yards in front of our front line and not very far from the German line.</p>
+
+<p>The corporal quite casually explained that he had some difficulty in
+finding me out there in the dark, but he did not want the trouble of
+carrying stuff out of the line when we moved!&mdash;<i>S. W. Chuckerbutty,
+(L.R.B. and K.R.R.C.), 3 Maida Hill West, London, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>On the Kaiser's Birthday</h3>
+
+<p>In the Brickstacks at Givenchy, 1916. The Germans were celebrating
+the Kaiser's birthday by putting a steady succession of "Minnies"
+into and around our front line trench.</p>
+
+<p>Just when the strain was beginning to tell and nerves were getting
+jumpy, a little Cockney corporal jumped on the fire-step and, shaking
+his fist at the Germans forty yards away, bawled, "You wait till it's
+<i>my</i> ruddy birthday!"</p>
+
+<p>Fritz didn't wait two seconds, but the little corporal had got his laugh
+and wasn't taking a curtain.&mdash;<i>"Bison" (late R.W.F.).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Chuck us yer Name Plate!"</h3>
+
+<p>In June 1917 we were ordered to lay a line to the front line at "Plug
+Street". Fritz started to bombard us with whizz-bangs, and my pal
+and I took cover behind a heap of sandbags, noticing at the same time
+that all the infantrymen were getting away from the spot.</p>
+
+<p>When things quietened down we heard a Cockney voice shouting,
+"Hi, mate! Chuck us yer name plate (identification disc). Y're sitting
+up against our bomb store."&mdash;<i>S. Doust (late Signal Section, "F" Battery,
+R.H.A.), 53 Wendover Road, Well Hall, Eltham, S.E.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>To Hold His Hand</h3>
+
+<p>While on our way to relieve the 1st R.W.F.s, who were trying their
+utmost to hold a position in front of Mametz Wood, it was necessary
+to cross a road, very much exposed to Jerry's machine guns.</p>
+
+<p>A burst of firing greeted our attempt, and when we succeeded, a
+Cockney who had a flesh wound caused a smile by saying, "Go back?
+Not me. Next time I crosses a road I wants a blinking copper ter 'old
+me 'and?"&mdash;<i>G. Furnell, 57a Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The New Landlord</h3>
+
+<p>During an advance on the Somme in 1916 my company was rushed
+up to the captured trenches to search the dug-outs and to bring in
+the prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>My Cockney pal was evidently enjoying himself. As he went from one
+dug-out to another he was singing:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+"Orl that I want is lo-ove,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Orl that I want is yew."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>Entering one dug-out, however, his voice suddenly changed. In the
+dug-out were three Germans. Showing them the point of his bayonet,
+the Cockney roared: "Nah, then, aht of it; 'op it. I'm lan'lord 'ere
+nah."&mdash;<i>C. Grimwade, 26 Rotherhithe New Road, Rotherhithe, S.E.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Out of Bounds" in the Line</h3>
+
+<p>One night in October '14, in the neighbourhood of Herlies, "Ginger,"
+a reservist, was sent out to call in the men of a listening post.</p>
+
+<p>Dawn came, but no "Ginger" returned, and as he did not turn up
+during the day he was given up for lost.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after dusk, however, a very worn and fed-up "Ginger" returned.
+We gathered that he had suddenly found himself in the German lines,
+had had a "dust-up," had got away, and had lain out in No Man's Land
+until dusk allowed him to get back.</p>
+
+<p>The company officer was inclined to be cross with him, and asked him,
+"But what made you go so far as the enemy position?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ginger" scratched his head, and then replied, "Well, sir, nobody
+said anyfink to me abaht it being aht o' bahnds."&mdash;<i>T. L. Barling (late
+Royal Fusiliers), 21 Lockhart Street, Bow, E.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Epic of the Whistling Nine</h3>
+
+<p>On May 14, 1917, the 2/2nd Battalion of the London Regiment
+occupied the support lines in front of Bullecourt. "A" company's
+position was a thousand yards behind the front line trenches. At 2 p.m.
+the enemy began to subject the whole area to an intense bombardment
+which lasted more than thirteen hours.</p>
+
+<p>In the middle of the bombardment (which was described by the
+G.O.C.-in-Chief as "the most intense bombardment British troops had
+had to withstand"), No. 3 platoon of "A" company was ordered to
+proceed to the front line with bombs for the battalion holding it. The
+platoon consisted of 31 N.C.O.s and men and one officer.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>The only means of communication between the support and front
+lines was a trench of an average depth of two feet. Along this trench
+the platoon proceeded, carrying between them forty boxes of Mills
+bombs. Every few yards there were deep shell holes to cross; tangled
+telephone wires tripped the men; M. G. bullets swept across the trench,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+and heavy shells obtained direct hits frequently, while shrapnel burst
+overhead without cessation.</p>
+
+<p>A man was hit every few minutes; those nearest him rendered what
+aid was possible, unless he was already dead; his bombs were carried
+on by another.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p>Of the thirty-one who started, twenty-one were killed or wounded;
+the remainder, having taken an hour and a half to cover the 1,000 yards,
+reached the front line <i>with the forty boxes of bombs intact</i>.</p>
+
+<p>They were ordered to remain, and thus found themselves assisting in
+repulsing an attack made by the 3rd Lehr Regiment of Prussian Guards,
+and two of the men succeeded in wounding and capturing the commanding
+officer of the attacking regiment.</p>
+
+<p>Of the ten N.C.O.s and men who were left, a lance-corporal was blown
+to pieces in the trench; the remainder stayed in the front line until
+they were relieved four days later. On their way back, through Vaux
+Vraucourt, they picked clusters of May blossom, and with these in their
+equipment and rifle barrels, marched into the transport lines whistling.&mdash;<i>Captain,
+London Regiment.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Tale of a Cook and a "Crump"</h3>
+
+<p>Our cook was having the time of his life. The transition from trench
+warfare to more or less open warfare in late October 1918 brought
+with it a welcome change of diet in the form of pigs and poultry from the
+deserted farms, and cook had captured a nice young porker and two
+brace of birds.</p>
+
+<p>From the pleasant aroma which reached us from the cottage as we lay
+on our backs watching a German aeroplane we knew that cook would
+soon be announcing the feast was ready.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly from the blue came a roar like that of an express train.
+We flung ourselves into the ditch.... <i>K-k-k-k-r-r-r-ump!</i></p>
+
+<p>When the smoke and dust cleared away the cottage was just a rubbish
+heap, but there was cook, most miraculously crawling out from beneath
+a debris of rafters, beams, and bricks!</p>
+
+<p>"Ruddy 'orseplay!" was the philosopher's comment.&mdash;<i>I. O., 19
+Burnell Road, Sutton, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"&mdash;&mdash; Returns the Penny"</h3>
+
+<p>When my husband commanded the 41st Division in France he was
+much struck by the ready wit of a private of the Royal Fusiliers
+(City of London Regiment) in a tight corner.</p>
+
+<p>A bomb landed in a crowded dug-out while the men were having a
+meal. Everyone stared aghast at this ball of death except one Tommy,
+who promptly picked it up and flung it outside saying: "Grite stren'th
+returns the penny, gentlemen!" as he returned to his bully beef.&mdash;<i>Lady
+Lawford, London, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"In Time for the Workman's?"</h3>
+
+<p>A night wire-cutting party in the Arras sector had been surprised
+by daylight. All the members of the party (21st London Regiment)
+crawled back safely except one Cockney rifleman.</p>
+
+<p>When we had reached the trenches and found that he was missing,
+we were a bit upset. Would he have to lie out in No Man's Land all
+day? Would he be spotted by snipers?</p>
+
+<p>After a while our doubts were answered by a terrific burst from the
+German machine guns. Some of the bolder spirits peered over the top
+of the "bags" and saw our Cockney pal rushing, head down, towards
+our line while streams of death poured around him.</p>
+
+<p>He reached our parapet, fell down amongst us in the mud, uninjured,
+and immediately jumped to his feet and said, "Am I in time for the
+workman's?"&mdash;<i>D. F., Acton, W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Lovely Record</h3>
+
+<p>The Time: March 1916.</p>
+
+<p>The Scene: The Talus des Zouaves&mdash;a narrow valley running
+behind Vimy Ridge from Neuville St. Vaast through Souchez. The
+weather is bleak, and there is a sticky drizzle&mdash;it is towards dusk.</p>
+
+<p>The Man: A native of "somewhere just awf the 'Bricklayers Arms'&mdash;you
+know where that is, sir." Height, just over 5 feet; complexion,
+red; hair, red and not over tidy; appearance, awkward; clothes don't
+seem to fit quite. Distinguishing marks&mdash;a drooping red moustache
+almost concealing a short clay pipe, stuck bowl sideways in the corner of
+the mouth. On the face there is a curious&mdash;whimsical&mdash;wistful, in fact,
+a Cockney expression.</p>
+
+<p>The Occasion: The Boche is putting down his evening "strafe"&mdash;an
+intense and very accurate barrage laid like a curtain on the southern
+slope of the valley. Our hero, his hands closed round the stock of his
+rifle held between his knees, is squatting unconcernedly on the wet ground
+in the open on the northern side of the valley, where only a shell with a
+miraculous trajectory could have scored a direct hit, watching the shells
+burst almost every second not a great distance away. The din and
+pandemonium are almost unbearable. Fragments of H.E. and shrapnel
+are dropping very near.</p>
+
+<p>The Remark: Removing his pipe to reveal the flicker of a smile, he
+remarked, in his inimitable manner: "<i>Lor' blimey, guv'nor, wouldn't
+this sahnd orl rite on a grammerphone?</i>"&mdash;<i>Gordon Edwards, M.C. (Captain,
+late S.W.B.), "Fairholm," 48 Alexandra Road, Wimbledon, S.W.19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Logic in No Man's Land</h3>
+
+<p>Fritz had been knocking our wire about, and a party of us were
+detailed to repair it. One of our party, a trifle more windy than the
+rest, kept ducking at the stray bullets that were whistling by. Finally,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+'Erb, who was holding the coil of wire, said to him, "Can't yer stop
+that bobbin' abaht? They won't 'urt yer unless they 'its yer."&mdash;<i>C. Green,
+44 Monson Road, New Cross, S.E.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Fousands ... and Millions</h3>
+
+<p>It was on the Mons-Condé Canal, on the afternoon of August 23,
+1914. Our artillery had just opened up when a tiny Cockney
+trumpeter, who could not have been more than 15 years old, came
+galloping up to us with a message.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i033.jpg" width="600" height="564" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"They're coming on in millions."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"How are the gunners going on, boy?" said my captain.</p>
+
+<p>"Knocking 'em down in fousands, sir," replied the lad.</p>
+
+<p>"Good," said the captain.</p>
+
+<p>"Yus, and they're coming on in millions," replied the boy as he rode
+away to his battery.</p>
+
+<p>A plucky kid, that.&mdash;<i>W. H. White, 29 Clive Road, Colliers Wood,
+S.W.19.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lost: A Front Line</h3>
+
+<p>Two or three American officers were attached to our brigade H.Q.
+on the Somme front.</p>
+
+<p>We were doing our usual four days in the front line when one morning
+an American officer emerged from the communication trench. Just
+then the Germans opened out with everything from a 5·9 to rifle grenade.
+We squeezed into funk-holes in the bottom of the trench. Presently
+there was a lull, and the American officer was heard to ask, "Say, boys,
+where is the front line in these parts?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tich," a little Cockney from Euston way, extracted himself from the
+earth, and exclaimed, "Strike! j'ear that? Wot jer fink this is&mdash;a
+blinkin' rifle range?"&mdash;<i>W. Wheeler (late 23rd Battalion Royal Fusiliers),
+55 Turney Road, Dulwich, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"If Our Typist Could See Me Nah"</h3>
+
+<p>Imagine (if you can) the mud on the Somme at its worst. A Royal
+Marine Artilleryman (a very junior clerk from "Lambeff") was
+struggling up the gentle slope behind Trones Wood with a petrol tin of
+precious water in either hand. A number of us were admiring his manly
+efforts from a distance when the sudden familiar shriek was heard,
+followed by the equally familiar bang.</p>
+
+<p>We saw him thrown to the ground as the whizz-bang burst but a few
+feet from him, and we rushed down, certain that he had "got his."
+Imagine our surprise on being greeted by an apparition that had
+struggled to a sitting posture, liberally plastered with mud, and a wound
+in the shoulder, who hoarsely chuckled and said: "If our typist could
+see me <i>nah</i>!"&mdash;<i>C. H. F. (W/Opr. attached R.M.A. Heavy Brigade).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Q! Q! Queue!</h3>
+
+<p>The scene was an observation post in the top of a (late) colliery
+chimney, 130 ft. up, on the outskirts of Béthune, during the last
+German offensive of the War.</p>
+
+<p>A great deal of heavy shelling was in progress in our immediate vicinity,
+and many of Fritz's "high-velocities" were screaming past our lofty
+pinnacle, which was swaying with the concussion. At any moment
+a direct hit was possible.</p>
+
+<p>My Cockney mate had located a hostile battery, and after some difficulty
+with the field telephone was giving the bearing to headquarters.</p>
+
+<p>Faults in the line seemed to prevent him from finishing his message,
+which consisted of giving the map square (Q 20) being "strafed." The
+"Q" simply would not reach the ears of the corporal at headquarters,
+and after many fruitless efforts, using "Q" words, I heard him burst
+out in exasperation: "Q! Q! Queue! ... Blimey! you know&mdash;the
+blinkin' thing wot the pore blighters at home wite abaht for 'mawgarine'
+in."&mdash;<i>B. W. Whayman (late F.S.C., R.E.), 24 Oxford Street, Boston,
+Lincolnshire.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Fine 'eads er Salery!"</h3>
+
+<p>We were in a deep railway cutting near Gouzeancourt. Jerry's
+aeroplanes had found us and his artillery was trying to shift us.</p>
+
+<p>On the third day we had run out of cigarettes, so the sergeant-major
+asked for a volunteer to go to a canteen four miles away.</p>
+
+<p>Our Cockney, a costermonger well known in the East End, volunteered.
+He could neither read nor write, so we fixed him up with francs, a sandbag,
+and a list.</p>
+
+<p>Hours passed, the strafe became particularly heavy, and we began to
+fear our old pal had been hit.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly during a lull in the shelling far away along the ravine we
+heard a voice shouting, "Ere's yer fine 'eads er salery 'orl white." He
+was winning through.&mdash;<i>"Sparks," Lowestoft, Suffolk.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Old Soldier Falls</h3>
+
+<p>After my battalion had been almost wiped out in the 1918 retirement,
+I was transferred to the 1st Batt. Middlesex Regt. One old
+soldier, known to us as "Darky," who had been out since '14, reported
+at B.H.Q. that he wanted to go up the front line with his old mates
+instead of resting behind the line.</p>
+
+<p>His wish was granted. He was detailed to escort a party of us to the
+front line.</p>
+
+<p>All went well till we arrived at the support line, where we were told to
+be careful of snipers.</p>
+
+<p>We had only gone 20 yards further when the old soldier fell back into
+my arms, shot through the head. He was dying when he opened his eyes
+and said to me, "Straight on, lad. You can find your way now."&mdash;<i>A. H.
+Walker, 59 Wilberforce Road, Finsbury Park, N.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Meant For Him</h3>
+
+<p>At the end of September 1917 my regiment (5th Seaforth Highlanders)
+were troubled by bombing raids by enemy aircraft at the
+unhealthy regularity of one raid per hour. We were under canvas at
+Siege Camp, in the Ypres sector, and being near to a battery of large
+guns we were on visiting terms with some of the gunners, who were for
+the most part London men.</p>
+
+<p>A Lewisham man was writing a letter in our tent one day when we
+again had the tip that the Germans were flying towards us. So we all
+scattered.</p>
+
+<p>After the raid we returned to our tent and were surprised to see our
+artillery friend still writing his letter. We asked him whether he had
+stayed there the whole time and in reply he read us the following passage
+from his letter which he had written during the raid:</p>
+
+<p>"As I write this letter Jerry is bombing the Jocks, but although I am
+in their camp, being a Londoner, I suppose the raid is not meant for me,
+and I feel quite safe."&mdash;<i>W. A. Bull, M.M., 62 Norman Road, llford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Extra Fast Bowler</h3>
+
+<p>During the defence of Antwerp in October 1914 my chum, who
+was wicket-keeper in the Corps cricket team, got hit in the head.</p>
+
+<p>I was with him when he came to, and asked him what happened.</p>
+
+<p>"Extra fast one on the leg side," was his reply.&mdash;<i>J. Russell (late
+R.M.L.I.), 8 Northcote Road, Deal, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I'll Call a Taxi, Sir"</h3>
+
+<p>During an engagement in East Africa an officer was badly wounded.
+Bill, from Bermondsey, rode out to him on a mule. Whilst he was
+trying to get the officer away on his mule the animal bolted. Bill then
+said, "Me mule 'opped it, sir. 'E's a fousand miles from 'ere, so I'll
+giv yer a lift on my Bill and Jack (back)."</p>
+
+<p>The officer was too heavy, so Bill put him gently on the ground saying,
+"Sorry, sir, I'll 'ave ter call a taxi." Bill then ran 500 yards under
+heavy machine-gun fire to where the armoured cars were under cover.
+He brought one out, and thereby saved the officer's life.</p>
+
+<p>After the incident, Bill's attention was drawn to a bullet hole in his
+pith helmet. "Blimey," he said, "what a shot! If he 'adn't a missed
+me, 'e'd a 'it me." Bill was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.&mdash;<i>W. B.
+Higgins, D.C.M. (late Corpl. Mounted Infantry), 46 Stanley Road,
+Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Attack in "Birthday Clothes"</h3>
+
+<p>We came out of the line on the night of June 14-15, 1917, to
+"bivvies" at Mory, after a hot time from both Fritz and weather
+at Bullecourt. When dawn broke we were astonished and delighted to
+see a "bath." Whilst we were in the line our Pioneers had a brain wave,
+dug a hole in the ground, lined it with a tarpaulin sheet, and filled it
+with water.</p>
+
+<p>As our last bath was at Achiet-le-Petit six weeks before, there was a
+tremendous crowd waiting "mit nodings on," because there was "standing
+room only" for about twenty in the bath.</p>
+
+<p>Whilst ablutions were in progress an aeroplane was heard, but no
+notice was taken because it was flying so low&mdash;"one of ours" everybody
+thought. When it came nearer there was a shout, "Strewth, it's a Jerry
+plane."</p>
+
+<p>Baths were "off" for the moment and there was a stampede to the
+"bivvies" for rifles. It was the funniest thing in the world to see fellows
+running about in their "birthday suits" plus only tin hats, taking pot
+shots at the aeroplane.</p>
+
+<p>Even Fritz seemed surprised, because it was some moments before he
+replied with his machine gun.</p>
+
+<p>We watched him fly away back to his own lines and a voice broke the
+silence with, "Blinkin' fools to put on our tin 'ats. Uvverwise 'ole
+Fritz wouldn't a known but what we might be Germans."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>I often wonder if any other battalion had the "honour" of "attacking
+the enemy" clad only in tin hats.&mdash;<i>G. M. Rampton (late 12th London
+Regt., "Rangers"), 43 Cromwell Road, Winchester.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Good-bye to the Q.M.</h3>
+
+<p>Scene, Ypres, May 1915. The battalion to which I belonged had
+been heavily shelled for many hours, and among the casualties was
+"Topper" Brown, a Cockney, who was always in trouble for losing items
+of his kit. Taken to the dressing station to have a badly shattered foot
+amputated, he recovered consciousness to find the C.Q.M.S. standing
+by the stretcher on which he lay.</p>
+
+<p>The C.Q.M.S., not knowing the extent of Brown's injury, inquired,
+"What's the trouble, Brown?"</p>
+
+<p>In a weak voice the Cockney replied, "Lost one boot and one sock
+again, Quarter."&mdash;<i>E. E. Daniels (late K.R.R.), 178 Caledonian Road, N.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>From Bow and Harrow</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the line at Neuville St. Vaast in 1916. A raid had just
+been carried out. In the party were two inseparable chums, one
+from Bow and one from Harrow. (Of course they were known as Bow
+and Arrow.)</p>
+
+<p>The bulk of the raiders had returned, but some were yet to come in.
+Some time later three forms were seen crawling towards our line. They
+were promptly helped in.</p>
+
+<p>As their faces were blackened they were hard to recognise, and a
+corporal asked them who they were.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't yer know us?" said the chap from Bow. "We're Bow and
+Arrow." "Blimey!" said another Cockney standing by. "And I
+suppose the other bloke's Robin 'ood, aint 'e."&mdash;<i>G. Holloway (late London
+Regt. and 180 M.G.C.), 179 Lewis Buildings, West Kensington, W.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Piccadilly in the Front Line</h3>
+
+<p>Towards the end of September 1918 I was one of a party of nine
+men and an officer taking part in a silent raid in the Ypres sector,
+a little in front of the well-known spot called Swan and Edgar's Corner.
+The raid was the outcome of an order from Headquarters demanding
+prisoners for information.</p>
+
+<p>Everything had been nicely arranged. We were to approach the German
+line by stealth, surprise an outpost, and get back quickly to our own
+trenches with the prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>Owing perhaps to the wretchedness of the night&mdash;it was pouring with
+rain, and intensely black&mdash;things did not work according to plan. Instead
+of reaching our objective, our party became divided, and the group that
+I was with got hopelessly lost. There were five of us, including "Ginger,"
+a Cockney.</p>
+
+<p>We trod warily for about an hour, when we suddenly came up against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+a barbed-wire entanglement, in the centre of which we could just make
+out the figure of a solitary German. After whispered consultation, we
+decided to take him prisoner, knowing that the German, having been
+stationary, had not lost sense of direction and could guide us back to
+our line. Noiselessly surmounting the barbed wire, we crept up to him
+and in a second Ginger was on him. Pointing his bayonet in Fritz's
+back, he said, "Nah, then, you blighter, show us the way 'ome."</p>
+
+<p>Very coolly and without the slightest trace of fear, the German replied
+in perfect English, "I suppose you mean me to lead you to the British
+trenches."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Ginger, "so yer speak English, do yer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the German, "I was a waiter at a restaurant in Piccadilly
+before the War."</p>
+
+<p>"Piccadilly, eh? You're just the feller we want. Take us as far as
+Swan and Edgar's Corner."&mdash;<i>R. Allen (late Middlesex Regt., 41st Division),
+7 Moreland Street, Finsbury Park, N.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Wag's" Exhortation</h3>
+
+<p>On a bitterly cold night, with a thick fog settling, the Middlesex Regt.
+set out on a raid on a large scale on the enemy's trenches. Fritz
+must have got wind of it, for when they were about half-way across the
+enemy guns opened fire and simply raked No Man's Land. The air was
+alive with shrapnel and nearly two-thirds of the raiders were casualties
+in no time.</p>
+
+<p>Those that could tried to crawl back to our lines, but soon lost all
+direction in the fog. About half a dozen of them crawled into a shell-hole
+and lay there wounded or exhausted from their efforts, and afraid
+to move while the bombardment continued.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile "Wag" Bennett, a Cockney, though badly wounded, had
+dragged himself out of a shell-hole, and was crawling towards what proved
+later to be the enemy lines when he saw the forms of the other fellows in
+the darkness. As he peered down upon them he called out, "Strike
+me pink! Lyin' abaht dahn there as if you was at the 'Otel Cissle,
+while there's a ruddy war agoin' on. Come on up aht of it, else you'll
+git us all a bad name."</p>
+
+<p>In a moment they were heartened, and they crawled out, following
+"Wag" on their hands and knees and eventually regained our lines.
+Poor "Wag" died soon afterwards from his wounds.&mdash;<i>H. Newing, 1 Park
+Cottages, Straightsmouth, Greenwich, S.E.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Making a King of Him</h3>
+
+<p>Our company of the Middlesex Regiment had captured a hill from
+Johnny Turk one evening, and at once prepared for the counter-attack
+on the morrow. My platoon was busy making a trench. On
+the parapet we placed large stones instead of sandbags.</p>
+
+<p>During these operations we were greeted with machine-gun fire from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+Johnny and, our numbers being small, we had to keep firing from different
+positions so as to give the impression that we were stronger than we really
+were.</p>
+
+<p>It was while we were scrambling from one position to another that
+"Smudger" Smith, from Hammersmith, said: "Love us, Sarge, 'ow's
+this for a blinkin' game of draughts?" The words were hardly out of
+his mouth when Johnny dropped a 5·9 about thirty yards away. The
+force of the explosion shook one of the stones from the parapet right on
+to "Smudger's" head, and he was knocked out.</p>
+
+<p>When he came round his first words were: "Blimey, they must 'ave
+'eard me to crown me like that."&mdash;<i>W. R. Mills (late Sergt., 2/10th
+Middlesex Regt.), 15 Canterbury Road, Colchester, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Peace? Not wiv you 'ere!"</h3>
+
+<p>Two Cockney pals who were always trying to get the better of one
+another in a battle of words by greeting each other with such remarks
+as "Ain't you blinkin' well dead yet?" earned for themselves the nick-names
+of Bill and Coo.</p>
+
+<p>One evening they were sent to fetch water, and on the return journey
+the Germans started to shell rather heavily.</p>
+
+<p>Coo ran more quickly than Bill and fell into a shell-hole. He scrambled
+out in time to see his pal blown sky high by what appeared to be a direct
+hit.</p>
+
+<p>Coo was heard to remark: "I always told 'im 'e ought to be reported
+missing, and blimey if 'e ain't."</p>
+
+<p>He then went to see if he could find the body: instead he found Bill
+alive, though badly wounded.</p>
+
+<p>When finally Coo got his pal back to the trench, Bill opened his eyes.
+Seeing Coo bending over him, he said: "Lumme, I thought peace 'ad
+come at last, but it ain't&mdash;not wiv you 'ere."&mdash;<i>William Walker, 30 Park
+Road, Stopsley Road, Luton, Beds.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Expert on Shells</h3>
+
+<p>We were billeted in the vaults of Ypres Post Office. Towards dusk
+of a summer's day in 1916 four of us were lounging at the top of
+the vault stairs, discussing the noise made by different shells. Jerry, a
+Cockney, was saying, "Yes, yer can always tell big 'uns&mdash;they shuffles,"
+and went on to demonstrate with <i>Shsh-shsh-shsh</i>, when someone said
+"Listen!"</p>
+
+<p>There was the real sound, and coming straight for us. We dived or
+fell to the bottom of the stairs. Followed a terrific "crump" right in
+the entrance, which was completely blocked up.</p>
+
+<p>Every candle and lamp was blown out; we were choking with dust
+and showered with bricks and masonry.</p>
+
+<p>There was a short silence, and Jerry's voice from the darkness said,
+"There y'are; wot did I tell yer?"&mdash;<i>H. W. Lake, London.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Camel "on the Waggon"</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of Gaza in April 1917 camels were used for the
+conveyance of wounded. Each camel carried a stretcher on either
+side of its hump. Travelling in this manner was something akin to a
+rough Channel crossing.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i040.jpg" width="600" height="457" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I believe he was drunk before we set eyes on him."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I was wounded in the leg. My companion was severely wounded in
+both legs. Some very uncomplimentary remarks were passed between
+us concerning camels, particularly the one which was carrying us.</p>
+
+<p>When we arrived at a field dressing-station a sergeant of the R.A.M.C.
+came along with liquid refreshments.</p>
+
+<p>"Sergeant," said my chum, "if you give this bloke (indicating the
+camel) anything to drink I'm going to walk, 'cos I believe the blighter was
+drunk before we ever set eyes on him."&mdash;<i>Albert J. Fairall, 43 Melbourne
+Road, Leyton, E.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Parting Presents</h3>
+
+<p>It was on Passchendaele Ridge in 1917. Jerry had been giving us a hot
+time with his heavies. Just before daybreak our telephone line went
+west and we could not get through to our O.P.</p>
+
+<p>I was detailed to go out and repair the line with a young Cockney from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+Hackney. He had only been with us a few days and it was his first time
+up the line.</p>
+
+<p>We had mended one break when shells dropped all round us. When
+I got to my feet, I saw my pal lying several feet away. I escaped with
+a few splinters and shock. I dragged my chum to a shell-hole which was
+full of water and found he was badly hit about the shoulder, chest, and
+leg. I dressed him as best I possibly could, when, <i>bang</i>, a shell seemed
+to drop right on us and something came hurtling into our hole with a
+splash.</p>
+
+<p>It turned out to be a duckboard. I propped my chum against it to
+stop him slipping back into the water. After a few minutes he opened
+his eyes, and though in terrible pain, smiled and said, "Lummy, Jeff,
+old Jerry ain't so bad, after all. He has given me a nice souvenir to
+take to Blighty and now he has sent me a raft to cross the Pond on."
+Then he became unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>It was now daybreak and quiet. I pulled him out of the hole and went
+and repaired the line. We got him away all right, but I never heard
+from him. I only hope he pulled through: he showed pluck.&mdash;<i>Signaller
+H. Jeffrey (late Royal Artillery), 13 Bright Road, Luton, Chatham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bluebottles and Wopses</h3>
+
+<p>We had just gone into the front line. Two of us had not been there
+before.</p>
+
+<p>During a conversation with a Cockney comrade, an old hand, we told
+him of our dislike of bombs. He tried to re-assure us something like this:
+"Nah, don't let them worry you. You treat 'em just like blue-bottles,
+only different. With a blue-bottle you watch where it settles an' 'it it,
+but with bombs, you watch where they're goin' to settle and 'op it. It's
+quite simple."</p>
+
+<p>A short time after a small German bomb came over and knocked out
+our adviser. My friend and I picked him up and tried to help him.
+He was seriously hurt. As we lifted him up my friend said to him,
+"You didn't get your blue-bottle that time, did you?" He smiled
+back as he replied: "'Twasn't a blue-bottle, mate; must 'ave been a
+blinkin' wopse."&mdash;<i>C. Booth, 5 Creighton Road, N.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Cheerful "Card"</h3>
+
+<p>On that June morning in 1917 when Messines Ridge went up, a young
+chap was brought in to our A.D.S. in Woodcote Farm. A piece of
+shell had torn a great gap in each thigh. Whilst the sergeant was
+applying the iodine by means of a spray the M.O. asked, "How are
+things going this morning?" The lad was wearing a red heart as his
+battalion sign, and despite his great pain he answered: "O.K. sir.
+Hearts were trumps this morning."&mdash;<i>R. J. Graff, 3/5th L.F.A., 47th
+Division, 20 Lawrie Park Road, Sydenham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Great Stuff This Shrapnel</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat from Mons it was the cavalry's work to hold up
+the Germans as long as possible, to allow our infantry to get in
+position.</p>
+
+<p>One day we had a good way to run to our horses, being closely pursued
+by the Germans. When we reached them we were all more or less out
+of breath. A little Cockney was so winded that he could hardly reach
+his stirrup, which kept slipping from under his foot.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a shrapnel shell burst directly overhead, and the Cockney,
+without using his stirrup, vaulted clean into the saddle.</p>
+
+<p>As we galloped off he gasped, "Blimey, don't they put new life in
+yer? They're as good as Kruschens."&mdash;<i>E. H. (late R.H.G.), 87 Alpha
+Road, Surbiton, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wot a War!</h3>
+
+<p>Three of us were sitting on the high ground on the Gallipoli Beach
+watching shells dropping from the Turk positions.</p>
+
+<p>A "G.S." wagon was proceeding slowly along below us, the driver
+huddled in his coat, for the air was chill.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he jumped from the wagon and ran in our direction&mdash;he
+had heard the shell before we had.</p>
+
+<p>The next moment the wagon was proceeding skywards in many
+directions, and the horses were departing at top speed in different
+directions.</p>
+
+<p>The driver surveyed the scene for a moment and then in a very matter-of-fact
+voice said: "Blimey! See that? Now I suppose I've got to
+<i>walk</i> back, and me up all night&mdash;wot a war!" And away he trudged!&mdash;<i>C. J. A.,
+N.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Umpire</h3>
+
+<p>After a retreat in May 1915 we saw, lying between our fresh
+position and the German lines, an English soldier whom we took to
+be dead.</p>
+
+<p>Later, however, we advanced again, and discovered that the man was
+not dead, but badly wounded.</p>
+
+<p>On being asked who he was, he replied in a very weak voice, "I fink
+I must be the blinkin' umpire."&mdash;<i>W. King (late Royal Fusiliers), 94
+Manor Grove, Richmond, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Don't Tell 'Aig"</h3>
+
+<p>Little "Ginger" was the life and soul of our platoon until he was
+wounded on the Somme in 1918.</p>
+
+<p>As he was carried off to the dressing-station he waved his hand feebly
+over the side of the stretcher and whispered, "Don't tell 'Aig! He'd
+worry somethin' shockin'."&mdash;<i>G. E. Morris (late Royal Fusiliers), 368
+Ivydale Road, Peckham Rye, S.E.15.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"... In Love and War"</h3>
+
+<p>During a most unpleasant night bombing raid on the transport
+lines at Haillecourt the occupants of a Nissen hut were waiting for
+the next crash when out of the darkness and silence came the Cockney
+voice of a lorry driver saying to his mate, "'Well,' I sez to 'er, I sez,
+'You do as you like, and I can't say no fairer than that, can I?'"&mdash;<i>F. R.
+Jelley, Upland Road, Sutton, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Afraid of Yer Own Shells"</h3>
+
+<p>I was on the Italian front in June 1918, and our battery was being
+strafed by the Austrians with huge armour-piercing shells, which made
+a noise like an express train coming at you, and exploded with a deafening
+roar.</p>
+
+<p>An O.K. had just registered on one of our guns, blowing the wheels
+and masses of rock sky-high. A party of about twenty Austrian prisoners,
+in charge of a single Cockney, were passing our position at the time, and
+the effect of the explosion on the prisoners was startling. They scattered
+in all directions, vainly pursued by the Cockney, who reminded me of a
+sheep-dog trying to get his flock together.</p>
+
+<p>At last he paused. "You windy lot o' blighters," he shouted as he
+spat on the ground in evident disgust, "afraid of yer own bloomin'
+shells!"&mdash;<i>S. Curtis, 20 Palace Road, Upper Norwood, S.E.19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Leader of the Blind</h3>
+
+<p>In July 1918, at a casualty clearing station occupying temporary
+quarters in the old College of St. Vincent at ruined Senlis we dealt
+with 7,000 wounded in eight days. One night when we were more busy
+than usual an ambulance car brought up a load of gas-blinded men.</p>
+
+<p>A little man whose voice proclaimed the city of his birth&mdash;arm broken
+and face blistered with mustard gas, though he alone of the party could
+see&mdash;jumped out, looked around, and then whispered in my ear, "All
+serene, guv'nor, leave 'em to me."</p>
+
+<p>He turned towards the car and shouted inside, "Dalston Junction,
+change here for Hackney, Bow, and Poplar."</p>
+
+<p>Then gently helping each man to alight, he placed them in a line with
+right hand on the shoulder of the man in front, took his position forward
+and led them all in, calling softly as he advanced, "Slow march, left,
+left, I had a good job and I <i>left</i> it."&mdash;<i>Henry T. Lowde (late 63rd C.C.S.,
+R.A.M.C.), 101 Stanhope Gardens, Harringay, N.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Pity the Poor Ducks</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the Passchendaele sector in 1917, and all who were there
+know there were no trenches&mdash;just shell-holes half-filled with water.</p>
+
+<p>Jerry had been strafing us for two days without a stop and of our
+platoon of twenty-three men only seven came out alive. As we were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+coming down the duckboard track after being relieved Jerry started
+to put over a barrage. We had to dive for the best cover we could get.</p>
+
+<p>Three of us jumped into a large shell-hole, up to our necks in water.
+As the shells dropped around us we kept ducking our heads under the
+water.</p>
+
+<p>Bert Norton, one of us&mdash;a Cockney&mdash;said: "Strike, we're like the
+little ducks in 'Yde Park&mdash;keep going under."</p>
+
+<p>After another shell had burst and we had just come up to breathe Bert
+chimed in again with: "Blimey, mustn't it be awful to have to get your
+living by ducking?"&mdash;<i>J. A. Wood, 185 Dalston Lane, E.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Waiting Room Only</h3>
+
+<p>It was in No Man's Land, and a party of New Zealand troops were
+making for shelter in a disabled British tank to avoid the downpour of
+shrapnel. They were about to swarm into the tank when the head of a
+London Tommy popped out of an aperture, and he exclaimed, "Blimey.
+Hop it! This is a waiting room, not a blinkin' bee-hive."&mdash;<i>A. E. Wragg,
+1 Downs Road, Beckenham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Yet Blasé</h3>
+
+<p>We arrived at the Cambrai front in 1917&mdash;just a small bunch of
+Cockneys&mdash;and were attached to the Welsh Brigade of Artillery,
+being told to report to B.H.Q. up the sunken road in front of Bapaume.</p>
+
+<p>En route our escort of Welshmen were telling us of the "terrible"
+shelling up the line. It was no leg pulling, for we quickly found out for
+ourselves that it was hot and furious.</p>
+
+<p>Down we all went for cover as best we could, except one Cockney who
+stood as one spellbound watching the bursting of the shells. One of the
+Welshmen yelled out, "Drop down, Cockie!" The Cockney turned
+round, to the wonderment and amusement of the rest, with the retort,
+"Blimey! Get away with yer, you're windy. I've only just come out!"&mdash;<i>Driver
+W. H. Allen (attached 1st Glamorgan R.H.A.), 8 Maiden Crescent,
+Kentish Town, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Paid with a Mills</h3>
+
+<p>During severe fighting in Delville Wood in August 1916 our
+regiment (the East Surreys) was cut off for about three days and was
+reduced to a mere handful of men, but still we kept up our joking and
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p>A young Cockney, who was an adept at rhyming slang, rolled over,
+dead as I thought, for blood was streaming from his neck and head. But
+he sat up again and, wiping his hand across his forehead, exclaimed:
+"Strike me pink! One on the top of my loaf of bread (head), and one
+in the bushel and peck (neck)." Then, slinging over a Mills bomb, he
+shouted: "'Ere, Fritz, my thanks for a Blighty ticket."&mdash;<i>A. Dennis,
+9 Somers Road, Brixton Hill, S.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Guns' Obligato</h3>
+
+<p>The day after the Canadians attacked Vimy Ridge my battalion
+of the Royal Fusiliers advanced from Bully Grenay to a château on
+the outskirts of Lieven under heavy shell fire.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i045.jpg" width="600" height="456" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Tipperary!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>At the back of the château a street led to the main road to the town.
+There, despite the bombardment, we found a Cockney Tommy of the
+Buffs playing "Tipperary" on a piano which had been blown out of a
+house into the road.</p>
+
+<p>We joined in&mdash;until a shell took the top off the château, when we
+scattered!&mdash;<i>L. A. Utton, 184 Coteford Street, Tooting, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Garden of Eden</h3>
+
+<p>We had reached the district in "Mespot" reputed to be the Garden
+of Eden. One evening I was making my way with six men to
+relieve the guard on some ammunition barges lying by the bank of the
+Tigris.</p>
+
+<p>We had approached to within about one hundred yards of these, when
+the Turks started sending over some "long-rangers." The sixth shell
+scored a direct hit on the centre barge, and within a few seconds the whole
+lot went up in what seemed like the greatest explosion of all time. Apart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+from being knocked over with the shock, we escaped injury, with the
+exception of a Cockney in our company.</p>
+
+<p>Most of his clothing, except his boots, had been stripped from his body,
+and his back was bleeding. Slowly he struggled to his hands and knees,
+and surveying his nakedness, said: "Now where's that blinkin' fig tree?"&mdash;<i>F.
+Dennis, 19 Crewdson Road, Brixton, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Santa Claus in a Hurry</h3>
+
+<p>A forward observation officer of the Artillery was on duty keeping
+watch on Watling Crater, Vimy Ridge, towards the end of 1916.</p>
+
+<p>The observation post was the remains of a house, very much battered.
+The officer had to crawl up what had once been a large fireplace, where he
+had the protection of the only piece of wall that remained standing.</p>
+
+<p>He was engrossed on his task when the arrival of a "Minnie" shook
+the foundations of the place, and down he came in a shower of bricks
+and mortar with his shrapnel helmet not at the regimental angle.</p>
+
+<p>A couple of Cockney Tommies had also made a dive for the shelter
+of this pile of bricks and were crouching down, when the officer crawled
+from the fireplace. "Quick, Joe," said one of the Cockneys, "'ang up
+yer socks&mdash;'ere comes ole Santa Claus!"&mdash;<i>A. J. Robinson (late Sergeant,
+R.F.A.), 21 Clowders Road, Catford, S.E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>What Paderewski was Missing</h3>
+
+<p>It was on the night of October 27, 1917, at Passchendaele Ridge.
+Both sides were "letting it go hell for leather," and we were feeling
+none too comfortable crouching in shell-holes and taking what cover
+we could.</p>
+
+<p>The ground fairly shook&mdash;and so did we for that matter&mdash;with the
+heavy explosions and the din was ear-splitting.</p>
+
+<p>Just for something to say I called out to the chap in the next shell-hole&mdash;a
+Brentford lad he was: "What d'you think of it, Alf?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not much," he said, "I was just finkin' if Paderewski could get only
+this on 'is ol' jo-anner."&mdash;<i>M. Hooker, 325A Md. Qrs., Henlow Camp,
+Bedford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Target, but No Offers</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of the Somme, in September 1916, our Lewis gun
+post was in a little loop trench jutting out from the front line at a
+place called, I believe, Lone Tree, just before Combles. Jerry's front
+line was not many yards away, and it was a very warm spot.</p>
+
+<p>Several casualties had occurred during the morning through sniping,
+and one enterprising chap had scored a bull's-eye on the top of our
+periscope.</p>
+
+<p>Things quietened down a bit in the afternoon, and about 4 p.m. our
+captain, who already had the M.C., came along and said to our corporal,
+"I believe the Germans have gone."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A Cockney member of our team, overhearing this, said, "Well, it
+won't take long to find out," and jumping upon the fire-step exposed
+himself from the waist upwards above the parapet.</p>
+
+<p>After a minute's breathless silence he turned to the captain and said,
+with a jerk of his thumb, "They've hopped it, sir."</p>
+
+<p>That night we and our French friends entered Combles.&mdash;<i>M. Chittenden
+(late "C" Coy., 1/16th London Regt., Q.W.R.), 26 King Edward Road,
+Waltham Cross, Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Their own Lord Mayor's Show</h3>
+
+<p>In April 1918 our unit was billeted near Amiens in a small village from
+which the inhabitants had been evacuated two days earlier, owing to
+the German advance.</p>
+
+<p>On the second day of our stay there Jerry was shelling the steeple of
+the village church, and we had taken cover in the cellars under the village
+school. All at once we heard roars of laughter coming from the street,
+and wondering what on earth anyone could find to laugh at, we tumbled
+up to have a look.</p>
+
+<p>The sight that met our eyes was this: Gravely walking down the
+middle of the street were two of the "Hackney Ghurkas," the foremost
+of whom was dressed in a frock coat and top hat, evidently the property
+of the village <i>maire</i>, and leading a decorated mule upon the head of which
+was tied the most gaudy "creation" which ever adorned a woman's head.</p>
+
+<p>The second Cockney was clad in the full garb of a twenty-stone French
+peasant woman, hat and all, and was dragging at the end of a chain a
+stuffed fox, minus its glass case, but still fastened to its baseboard.</p>
+
+<p>They solemnly paraded the whole length of the street and back again,
+and were heard to remark that the village was having at least one Lord
+Mayor's Show before Jerry captured it!</p>
+
+<p>And this happened at the darkest time of the war, when our backs
+were to the wall.&mdash;<i>A. C. P. (late 58th London Division), Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Pill-Box Crown and Anchor</h3>
+
+<p>In the fighting around Westhoek in August 1917 the 56th Division
+were engaged in a series of attacks on the Nonne Boschen Wood, and
+owing to the boggy nature of the ground the position was rather obscure.</p>
+
+<p>A platoon of one of the London battalions was holding a pill-box which
+had been taken from the Germans during the day. In the night a counter-attack
+was made in the immediate vicinity of the pill-box, which left
+some doubt as to whether it had again fallen to the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>A patrol was sent out to investigate. After cautiously approaching
+the position and being challenged in a Cockney tongue, they entered the
+pill-box, and were astonished to see the occupants playing crown and
+anchor.</p>
+
+<p>The isolated and dangerous position was explained to the sergeant in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+charge, but he nonchalantly replied, "Yes, I know all abaht that; but,
+yer see, wot's the use of frightenin' the boys any more? There's been
+enough row rahnd 'ere all night as it is."&mdash;<i>N. Butcher (late 3rd Londons),
+43 Tankerville Drive, Leigh-on-Sea.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"C.O.'s Paid 'is Phone Bill"</h3>
+
+<p>On the Somme, during the big push of 1916, we had a section of
+Signallers attached to our regiment to keep the communications
+during the advance. Of the two attached to our company, one was a
+Cockney. He had kept in touch with the "powers that be" without a
+hitch until his wire was cut by a shell. He followed his wire back and
+made the necessary repair. Three times he made the same journey for
+the same reason. His mate was killed by a shrapnel shell and he himself
+had his left arm shattered: but to him only one thing mattered, and that
+was to "keep in touch." So he stuck to his job.</p>
+
+<p>The wire was broken a fourth time, and as he was about to follow it
+back, a runner came up from the C.O. wanting to know why the signaller
+was not in communication. He started back along his wire and as he
+went he said, "Tell 'im to pay 'is last account, an' maybe the telephone
+will be re-connected."</p>
+
+<p>A permanent line was fixed before he allowed the stretcher-bearers to
+take him away. My chum had taken his post at the end of the wire, and
+as the signaller was being carried away he called out feebly, "You're
+in touch with H.Q. C.O.'s paid 'is bill, an' we'll win the war yet."&mdash;<i>L.
+N. Loder, M.C. (late Indian Army), Streatham.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The "Garden Party Crasher"</h3>
+
+<p>In April 1917 two companies of our battalion were ordered to make a
+big raid opposite the sugar refineries at 14 Bis, near Loos. Two lines
+of enemy trenches had to be taken and the raiding party, when finished,
+were to go back to billets at Mazingarbe while the Durhams took over
+our trenches.</p>
+
+<p>My batman Beedles had instructions to go back to billets with all
+my kit, and wait there for my return. I was in charge of the right half
+of the first wave of the raid, and after a bit of a scrap we got into the
+German front line.</p>
+
+<p>Having completed our job of blowing up concrete emplacements and
+dug-outs, we were waiting for the signal to return to our lines when,
+to my surprise, Beedles came strolling through the German wire. When
+he saw me he called out above the row going on: "I 'opes yer don't
+mind me 'aving come to the garden party wivout an invertition, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>The intrepid fellow had taken all my kit back to billets some four
+miles, made the return journey, and come across No Man's Land to find
+me, and see me safely back; an act which might easily have cost him
+his life.&mdash;<i>L. W. Lees (Lieut.), late 11th Batt. Essex Regt., "Meadow Croft,"
+Stoke Poges, Bucks.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Those Big Wasps</h3>
+
+<p>Salonika, 1918, a perfect summer's day. The 2/17th London
+Regiment are marching along a dusty road up to the Doiran Lake.
+Suddenly, out of the blue, three bombing planes appear. The order is
+given to scatter.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, up comes an anti-aircraft gun, complete with crew on
+lorry. Soon shells are speeding up, and little small puffs of white smoke
+appear as they burst; but the planes are too high for them. A Cockney
+of the regiment puts his hands to his mouth and shouts to the crew:
+"Hi, don't hunch 'em; let 'em settle."&mdash;<i>A. G. Sullings (late 2/17th
+London Regiment), 130 Cann Hall Road, Leytonstone, E.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why he Looked for Help</h3>
+
+<p>On July 1, 1916, the 56th (London) Division attacked at Hebuterne,
+and during the morning I was engaged (as a lineman) in repairing
+our telephone lines between Battalion and Brigade H.Q. I had just been
+temporarily knocked out by a flat piece of shell and had been attended
+by a stretcher-bearer, who then left me and proceeded on his way back
+to a dressing station I had previously passed, whilst I went farther on
+down the trench to get on with my job.</p>
+
+<p>I had not gone many yards when I met a very young private of the
+12th Londons (the Rangers). One of his arms was hanging limp and was,
+I should think, broken in two or three places. He was cut and bleeding
+about the face, and was altogether in a sorry plight.</p>
+
+<p>He stopped and asked me, "Is there a dressing station down there,
+mate?" pointing along the way I had come, and I replied, "Yes, keep
+straight on down the trench. It's a good way down. But," I added,
+"there's a stretcher-bearer only just gone along. Shall I see if I can
+get him for you?"</p>
+
+<p>His reply I shall never forget: "Oh, I don't want him for <i>me</i>. I want
+someone to come back with me to get my mate. <i>He's hurt!</i>"&mdash;<i>Wm. R.
+Smith, 231 Halley Road, Manor Park, E.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Winkle Shell</h3>
+
+<p>Above the entrance to a certain dug-out somewhere in Flanders
+some wit had fixed a board upon which was roughly painted, "The
+Winkle Shell."</p>
+
+<p>The ebb and tide of battle left the dug-out in German hands, but one
+day during an advance the British infantry recaptured the trench in
+which "The Winkle Shell" was situated.</p>
+
+<p>Along the trench came a Cockney with his rifle ready and his bayonet
+fixed. Hearing voices coming from the dug-out he halted, looked
+reflectively at the notice-board, and then cautiously poking his bayonet
+into the dug-out called out, "Nah, then, come on aht of it afore I gits
+me blinkin' 'pin' busy."&mdash;<i>Sidney A. Wood (late C/275 Battery, R.F.A.),
+32 Lucas Avenue, Upton Park, E.13.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Forgot his Dancing Pumps</h3>
+
+<p>We were in a trench in front of Carnoy on the Somme when the
+Germans made a raid on us. It was all over in a few minutes,
+and we were minus eight men&mdash;taken away by the raiders.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards I was standing in a bay feeling rather shaky when
+a face suddenly appeared over the top. I challenged, and was answered
+with these words:</p>
+
+<p>"It's orl right. It's me. They was a-takin' us to a dance over there,
+but I abaht-turned 'arfway acrorst an' crawled back fer me pumps."&mdash;<i>E.
+Smith (late Middlesex Regt.), 2 Barrack Road, Aldershot.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lift Out of Order</h3>
+
+<p>One day in 1916 I was sitting with some pals in a German dug-out
+in High Wood. Like others of its kind, it had a steep, deep shaft.
+Suddenly a shell burst right in the mouth of the shaft above, and the
+next instant "Nobby," a Cockney stretcher-bearer, landed plump on
+his back in our midst. He was livid and bleeding, but his first words
+were: "Strike! I thought the lift were outer order!"&mdash;<i>J. E., Vauxhall,
+S.W.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>Lost: A Fly Whisk</p>
+
+<p>During the very hot summer of 1916 in Egypt it was necessary,
+while eating, to keep on flicking one hand to keep the flies away
+from one's mouth.</p>
+
+<p>One day a heavy shell came over and knocked down my Cockney chum,
+Tubby White. He got up, holding his wrist, and started looking round.</p>
+
+<p>I said: "What have you lost, Tubby?"</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," he said, "can't you see I've lost me blooming fly whisk?"
+It was then I noticed he had lost his hand.&mdash;<i>J. T. Marshall (Middlesex
+Regiment), 17 Evandale Road, Brixton, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Change at Wapping</h3>
+
+<p>When Regina Trench was taken in 1916 it was in a terrible state,
+being half full of thick liquid mud. Some of the fellows, sooner
+than wade through this, were getting up and walking along the top,
+although in view of the Germans.</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney signaller who was with me at the time, after slithering
+along the trench for a time, said: "I've 'ad enough er this," and
+scrambled out of the trench.</p>
+
+<p>He had no sooner got on top when&mdash;<i>zipp</i>&mdash;and down he came with a
+bullet through his thigh.</p>
+
+<p>While bandaging his wound I said: "We're going to have a job to
+get you out of here, but we'll have a good try."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," said the Cockney, "you carry on an' leave me.
+I'll wait for a blinkin' barge and change at Wapping."&mdash;<i>H. Redford
+(late R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"The Canary's Flowed Away!"</h3>
+
+<p>I was in charge of a party carrying material from the dump to the
+Engineers in the front line. One of the party, a man from Camberwell,
+was allotted a bulky roll of barbed wire.</p>
+
+<p>After a desperate struggle through the muddy and narrow support
+trenches, we reached the front line. There was still another 400 yards
+to go, and our Cockney decided to continue the journey along the parapet.</p>
+
+<p>He had not gone far before the German machine guns began to spit
+and he fell in a heap into the bottom of the trench with the coil of barbed
+wire on top of him.</p>
+
+<p>Thinking he was wounded, I went back to him and inquired if he
+was hit.</p>
+
+<p>"'It? 'It be blowed," he said, "but if somebody was to take this
+blinkin' birdcage orf me chest I might be able to get up."</p>
+
+<p>The journey was completed through the trench, our friend being a sorry
+sight of mud and cut fingers and face.</p>
+
+<p>On arriving at our destination he dropped the wire at the feet of the
+waiting corporal with the remark, "'Ere you are, mate; sorry the canary's
+flowed away."&mdash;<i>A. S. G. (47th Division), Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Go it, Applegarf! I'll time yer!"</h3>
+
+<p>Our battalion was making a counter-attack at Albert on March
+29, 1918, against a veritable hail of lead. Wounded in the thigh,
+I tumbled into a huge shell hole, already occupied by two officers of the
+Fusiliers (Fusiliers had been on our left), a lance-corporal of my own
+battalion, and three other men (badly wounded).</p>
+
+<p>Whilst I was being dressed by the lance-corporal another man jumped
+in. He had a bullet in the chest. It didn't need an M.O. to see that
+he was "all in," and he knew it.</p>
+
+<p>He proved to be the most heroic Cockney I have ever seen. He had
+only minutes to live, and he told us not to waste valuable bandages on
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon one of the officers advised me to try to crawl back before
+my leg got stiff, as I would stand a poor chance of a stretcher later with
+so many badly-wounded men about. If I got back safe I was to direct
+stretcher-bearers to the shell hole.</p>
+
+<p>I told the officer that our battalion stretcher-bearers were behind a
+ridge only about 100 yards in the rear, and as my wound had not troubled
+me yet I would make a sprint for it, as the firing was still too heavy to
+be healthy.</p>
+
+<p>On hearing my remarks this heroic Cockney, who must also have been
+a thorough sportsman, grinned up at me and, with death written on his
+face, panted: "Go it, Applegarf, an' I'll time yer." [Applegarth was
+the professional sprint champion of the world.] The Cockney was
+dead when I left the shell hole.&mdash;<i>F. W. Brown (late 7th Suffolks), 247
+Balls Pond Road, Dalston, N.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Other Sort of Rain</h3>
+
+<p>We were out doing a spot of wiring near Ypres, and the Germans
+evidently got to know about it. A few "stars" went up, and then
+the <i>rat-tat-tat</i> of machine guns told us more than we wanted to know.</p>
+
+<p>We dived for shell holes. Anybody who knows the place will realise
+we did not have far to dive. I found myself beside a man who, in the
+middle of a somewhat unhealthy period, found time to soliloquise:</p>
+
+<p>"Knocked a bit right aht me tin 'at. Thought I'd copped it that
+time. Look, I can get me little finger through the 'ole. Blimey, 'ope
+it don't rain, I shall git me 'ead all wet."&mdash;<i>H. C. Augustus, 67
+Paragon Road, E.9.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/i052.jpg" width="500" height="457" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ope it don't rain; I'd get me 'ead wet."</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Better Job for Him</h3>
+
+<p>I was at Vimy Ridge in 1916. On the night I am writing about we
+were taking a well-earned few minutes' rest during a temporary lull.
+We were under one of the roughly-built shelters erected against the Ridge,
+and our only light was the quivering glimmer from a couple of candles.
+A shell screeched overhead and "busted" rather near to us&mdash;and out
+went the candles.</p>
+
+<p>"Smith, light up those candles," cried the sergeant-major to his
+batman. "Smithy," who stuttered, was rather shaken and took some
+time to strike a match and hold it steadily to the candles. But no
+sooner were the candles alight than another "whopper" put them
+out again.</p>
+
+<p>"Light up those ruddy candles!" cried the S.M. again, "and don't
+dawdle about it!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Smithy," muttering terrible things to himself, was fumbling for the
+matches when the order came that a bombing party was required to
+clear "Jerry" out of a deep shell-hole.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ere!" said "Smithy" in his rich Cockney voice. "J-just m-my
+m-mark. I'd r-rather f-frow 'eggs' t-than light c-c-candles!"&mdash;<i>W.
+C. Roberts, 5 Crampton Street, S.E.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sentry's Sudden Relief</h3>
+
+<p>I was the next turn on guard at a battery position in Armentières
+one evening in the summer of 1917. A Cockney chum, whom I was
+going to relieve, was patrolling the position when suddenly over came a
+5·9, which blew him about four yards away.</p>
+
+<p>As he scrambled to his feet our sergeant of the guard came along, and
+my chum's first words were, "Sorry, sergeant, for deserting me post."&mdash;<i>T.
+F. Smithers (late R.F.A.), 14 Hilda Road, Brixton, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The World Kept Turnin'</h3>
+
+<p>The Poperinghe-Ypres road. A large shell had just pitched. Among
+the wounded was a Cockney who was noted for his rendering on
+every possible occasion of that well-known song, "Let the Great Big
+World Keep Turning."</p>
+
+<p>He was lying on the roadway severely hurt. Another Cockney went
+up to him and said "'Ello, matey, 'urt? Why ain't yer singin' 'Let the
+Great Big World Keep Turnin',' eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The reply came: "I <i>was</i> a singin' on it, Bill, but I never thought it
+would fly up and 'it me."&mdash;<i>Albert M. Morsley (late 85th Siege Battery Am.
+Col.), 198 Kempton Road, East Ham, E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Blinkin' "Money-box"</h3>
+
+<p>I was limping back with a wounded knee after the taking of Monchy-le-Preux
+on April 11, 1917, when a perky little Cockney of the 13th
+Royal Fusiliers who had a bandaged head caught me up with a
+cheery, "Tike me Chalk Farm (arm), old dear, and we'll soon be 'ome."</p>
+
+<p>I was glad to accept his kindly offer, but our journey, to say the least,
+was a hazardous one, for the German guns, firing with open sights from
+the ridge in front of the Bois du Sart, were putting diagonal barrages
+across the road (down which, incidentally, the Dragoon Guards were
+coming magnificently out of action, with saddles emptying here and
+there as they swept through that deadly zone on that bleak afternoon).</p>
+
+<p>Presently we took refuge in a sandbag shelter on the side of the road,
+and were just congratulating ourselves on the snugness of our retreat,
+when a tank stopped outside. Its arrival brought fresh gun-fire on us, and
+before long a whizz-bang made a direct hit on our shelter.</p>
+
+<p>When we recovered from the shock, we found part of our roof missing,
+and my little pal, poking his bandaged head through the hole, thus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+addressed one of the crew of the tank who was just visible through a
+gun slit:</p>
+
+<p>"Oi, why don't yer tike yer money-box 'ome? This ain't a pull-up fer
+carmen!"</p>
+
+<p>The spirit that little Cockney imbued into me that day indirectly saved
+me the loss of a limb, for without him I do not think I would have reached
+the advance dressing station in time.&mdash;<i>D. Stuart (late Sergeant, 10th R.F.,
+37th Division) 103 St. Asaph Road, Brockley, S.E.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Oo, You Naughty Boy!"</h3>
+
+<p>In front of Kut Al-'Amarah, April 1916, the third and last attack
+on the Sannaiyat position, on the day before General Townshend
+capitulated. Days of rain had rendered the ground a quagmire, and
+lack of rations, ammunition, and shelter had disheartened the relief
+force.</p>
+
+<p>The infantry advanced without adequate artillery support, and were
+swept by heavy machine-gun fire from the entrenched Turks. One
+fellow tripped over a strand of loose barbed wire, fell down, and in
+rising ripped the seat nearly off his shorts. Cursing, he rejoined the
+slowly moving line of advancing men.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly one sensed one of those fateful moments when men in the
+mass are near to breaking point. Stealthy looks to right and left were
+given, and fear was in the men's hearts. The relentless tat-tat-tat
+of machine guns, the "singing" of the driven bullets, and the dropping
+of men seemed as if it never would end.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney voice broke the fear-spell and restored manhood to men.
+"Oo, 'Erbert, you naughty boy!" it said. "Look at what you've done
+to yer nice trahsers! 'Quarter' won't 'arf be cross. He said we wasn't
+to play rough games and tear our trahsers."&mdash;<i>L. W. Whiting (late 7th
+Meerut Division), 21 Dale Park Avenue, Carshalton, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cool as a Cucumber</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1917 at Ypres I was in charge of part of the advance
+party taking over some trenches from another London battalion.
+After this task had been completed I was told of a funny incident of the
+previous night.</p>
+
+<p>It appeared that the battalion we were due to relieve had been surprised
+by a small party of the enemy seeking "information." During
+the mêlée in the trench a German "under-officer" had calmly walked
+over and picked up a Lewis gun which had been placed on a tripod on
+top of the trench some little distance from its usual emplacement. (This
+was done frequently when firing at night was necessary so as to avoid
+betraying the regular gun position.)</p>
+
+<p>A boyish-looking sentry of the battalion on the left jumped out of the
+trench and went after the Jerry who was on his way "home" with the
+gun in his arms. Placing his bayonet in dangerous proximity to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+"under-officer's" back, the young Cockney exclaimed, "Hi! Where
+the 'ell are yer goin' wiv that gun? Just you put the 'coocumber'
+back on the 'barrer' and shove yer blinkin' 'ands up!"</p>
+
+<p>The "under-officer" lost his prize and his liberty, and I understand
+the young sentry received the M.M.&mdash;<i>R. McMuldroch (late 15th London
+Regt., Civil Service Rifles), 13 Meadway, Bush Hill Park, Enfield.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Sergeant's Tears</h3>
+
+<p>One afternoon on the Somme our battery received a severe strafe
+from 5·9's and tear-gas shells. There was no particular "stunt"
+on, so we took cover in a trench behind the guns.</p>
+
+<p>When the strafe had finished, we found our gun resting on one wheel,
+with sights and shield smashed by a direct hit. There was tear gas
+hanging about, too, and we all felt anything but cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>Myself and detachment were solemnly standing around looking at the
+smashed gun, and as I was wiping tears from my eyes, Smithy, our
+bright Walworth lad, said: "Don't cry, Sarg'nt, they're bahnd ter give
+us anuvver."&mdash;<i>E. Rutson (late Sergeant, R.F.A., 47th London Division),
+43a Wardo Avenue, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"But yer carn't 'elp Laughin'"</h3>
+
+<p>There were a bunch of us Cockneys in our platoon, and we had
+just taken over some supports. It being a quiet sector, we were
+mooning and scrounging around, some on the parapet, some in the
+trenches, and some at the rear.</p>
+
+<p>All at once a shower of whizz-bangs and gas shells came over; our
+platoon "sub." started yelling "Gas." We dived for the dug-outs.</p>
+
+<p>Eight of us tried to scramble through a narrow opening at once, and
+we landed in a wriggling mass on the floor. Some were kneeling and
+some were sitting, all with serious faces, until one fellow said: "Phew,
+it's 'ell of a war, but yer carn't 'elp laughin', can yer?"&mdash;<i>B. J. Berry
+(late 9th Norfolk Regt.), 11 Rosemont Avenue, N. Finchley, N.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Only an Orphan"</h3>
+
+<p>He came to the battalion about three weeks before going overseas,
+and fell straight into trouble. But his Cockney wit got him out of
+trouble as well as into it.</p>
+
+<p>He never received a parcel or letter, but still was always the life of our
+company. He never seemed to have a care.</p>
+
+<p>We had been in France about a fortnight when we were ordered to the
+front line and over the top. He was one of the first over, shouting
+"Where's the blighters." They brought him in riddled with bullets.</p>
+
+<p>When I asked if I could do anything for him, he said: "Are there
+many hurt?" "Not many," I replied. "Thank Heaven for that," he
+replied. "Nobody 'll worry over me. I'm only a blinkin' orphan."&mdash;<i>W.
+Blundell (late N.C.O., 2nd East Surreys), Cranworth Gardens, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Joking at the Last</h3>
+
+<p>It was after the attack by the 2nd Londons on the village of Aubigny
+au Bac. I was hit by shell splinters, and whilst I was looking for
+someone to dress my wounds I came across one of the lads lying by the
+roadside mortally wounded.</p>
+
+<p>As I bent over him to give him a drink he noticed my blood-streaked
+face and gasped: "Crikey! Your barber was blinkin' clumsy this
+morning." So passed a gallant 2nd London man.&mdash;<i>E. C. Easts (M.M.),
+Eliot Place, Blackheath, S.E.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Everybody's War</h3>
+
+<p>During the general advance on the Somme in August 1918 our
+platoon became isolated from the rest of the company.</p>
+
+<p>We had been under heavy shell-fire for about three hours, and when at
+last things seemed to have quietened down, a German plane came over.
+We immediately jumped for cover and were concealed from view.</p>
+
+<p>The plane had only circled round a couple of times when a Cockney
+private, unable to resist the temptation any longer, jumped up and had a
+pot at it.</p>
+
+<p>He had fired three rounds when the N.C.O. pulled him down and called
+him a fool for giving away our position.</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney turned round and replied, "Blimey, ain't I in this
+blinkin' war as well as 'im?"&mdash;<i>E. Purcell (late 9th Royal Fusiliers),
+4 Lyndhurst Grove, Peckham, S.E.15.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Orders is Orders</h3>
+
+<p>When I was with the 6th Dorsets at Hooge, a party of us under a
+Cockney lance-jack were sent down the Menin Road to draw rations.
+It seemed as though the Germans knew we were waiting at the corner,
+for they were dropping shells all around us.</p>
+
+<p>After a while a voice in the darkness cried: "Don't stay there, you
+chaps; that's Hell Fire Corner!"</p>
+
+<p>"Can't 'elp it, guv'nor," replied our lance-jack. "'Ell Fire Corner
+or 'Eaven's Delight, we gotta stop 'ere till our rations comes up."&mdash;<i>H.
+W. Butler (late 6th Dorsets), 2 Flint Cottages, Stone, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Leaving the Picture</h3>
+
+<p>As we were going "over" at Passchendaele a big one dropped just
+behind our company runner and myself. Our runner gave a shout
+and stumbling on a little way, with his hand on his side, said: "Every
+picture tells a story"&mdash;and went down.</p>
+
+<p>I just stopped to look at him, and I am sorry to say his war had
+finished. He came from Bow.&mdash;<i>G. Hayward (late Rifle Brigade), Montague
+Street, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Ginger's Gun Stopped</h3>
+
+<p>I was in a Lewis gun section, and our sergeant got on our nerves
+while we were learning the gun by always drumming in our ears about
+the different stoppages of the gun when in action. My mate, Ginger
+Bryant, who lived at Stepney, could never remember the stops, and our
+sergeant was always rousing poor old Ginger.</p>
+
+<p>Well, we found ourselves one day in the front line and Jerry had
+started an attack. Ginger was No. 1 on the gun and I was lying beside
+him as No. 2. We were giving Jerry beans with our gun when a bomb
+hit it direct and blew Ginger and myself yards away.</p>
+
+<p>Ginger had his hand blown off, but crawled back to the gun, which was
+smashed to pieces. He gave one look at it and shouted to me: "Nah go
+and ask that blinkin' sergeant what number stoppage he calls this one!"
+Next thing he fainted.&mdash;<i>Edward Newson (late 1st West Surrey), 61 Moneyer
+Street, Hoxton, N.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Careless Fellow</h3>
+
+<p>An officer with our lot was a regular dare-devil. He always boasted
+that the German bullet had not yet been made which could find
+him.</p>
+
+<p>One day, regardless of his own safety, he was on the parapet, and
+though many shots came over he seemed to bear a charmed life.</p>
+
+<p>One of the men happened to put his head just out of the trench when
+a bullet immediately struck his "tin hat" sending him backwards into
+the trench.</p>
+
+<p>The officer, from the parapet, looked down and said, "You <i>are</i> a fool,
+I told you not to show yourself."&mdash;<i>A. Smith (Cameronians), 40 Whitechapel
+Road, E.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Standing Up to the Turk</h3>
+
+<p>In the second attempt to capture Gaza we were making our advance in
+face of heavy machine-gun fire. In covering the ground we crouched as
+much as possible, the Turks directed their fire accordingly, and casualties
+were numerous, so our Cockney humorist shouted: "Stand up, boys.
+It's best to be hit in yer props (legs) than in yer blinkin' office (head)."&mdash;<i>W.
+Reed (late 7th Battn., Essex Regiment), 3 Shenfield Road, Woodford
+Green, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lodging with the Bombs</h3>
+
+<p>I was driving a lorry along the road from Dickebusch to Ypres when
+the Germans started shelling with shrapnel and high explosive.</p>
+
+<p>By the side of the road was a cottage, partly ruined, with the window-space
+boarded up: and, with some idea of seeking protection from the
+flying fragments, I leaned up against one of the walls.</p>
+
+<p>I hadn't been there long when a face appeared at a gap in the boards,
+and a voice said: "Do yer fink y're safe there, mate, cos we're chock
+full o' bombs in 'ere."&mdash;<i>Edward Tracey, c/o Cowley Cottage, Cowley,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In Fine Feather</h3>
+
+<p>While on the Somme in 1916 my battery was sent to rest in a village
+behind the line. The billet allotted to us had been an hotel, and all
+the furniture, including bedsteads and feather mattresses, had been
+stored in the room which did duty as an orderly room.</p>
+
+<p>Returning one day from exercise, we saw a flight of enemy 'planes
+coming over, and as we approached the billet a bomb was dropped
+straight through the roof of our building, the sole occupant of which
+at the time was a Cockney signaller on duty, in touch with Brigade
+Headquarters.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 432px;">
+<img src="images/i058.jpg" width="432" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"They must 'ave 'it a blinkin' sparrer."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>We hurried forward, expecting to find that our signaller had
+been killed. The orderly room was a scene of indescribable chaos.
+Papers were everywhere. Files and returns were mixed up with "iron
+rations," while in a corner of the room was a pile of feathers about
+4 feet deep&mdash;all that remained of the feather mattresses. Of our
+signaller there was no sign.</p>
+
+<p>As we looked around, however, his head appeared from beneath the
+feather pile. His face was streaming with blood, and he looked more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+dead than alive, but as he surveyed his temporary resting-place, a grin
+spread over his features, and he picked up a handful of feathers.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey!" he observed, "they must 'ave 'it a blinkin' sparrer."&mdash;<i>"Gunner,"
+Oxford Street, W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>All the Fun of the Fair</h3>
+
+<p>At Neuve Eglise, March 1918, we were suddenly attacked by Jerry,
+but drove him back. Every now and again we spotted Germans
+dodging across a gap in a hedge. At once a competition started as to
+who could catch a German with a bullet as he ran across the gap.</p>
+
+<p>"Reminds me of shooting at the bottles and fings at the fair," said my
+pal, another Cockney Highlander.</p>
+
+<p>A second later a piece of shrapnel caught him in the hand. "Blimey,
+I always said broken glass was dangerous," he remarked as he gazed
+sadly at the wound.&mdash;<i>F. Adams (late H.L.I.), 64 Homestead Road,
+Becontree, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Teacup in a Storm</h3>
+
+<p>We were in support trenches near Havrincourt Wood in September
+1917. At mid-day it was exceptionally quiet there as a rule.</p>
+
+<p>Titch, our little Cockney cook, proceeded one day to make us some tea
+by the aid of four candles in a funk-hole. To aid this fire he added
+the usual bit of oily "waste," and thereby caused a thin trail of smoke to
+rise. The water was just on the boil when Jerry spotted our smoke and
+let fly in its direction everything he had handy.</p>
+
+<p>Our trench was battered flat.... We threw ourselves into a couple of
+old communication trenches. Looking around presently for our cook
+we found him sitting beneath a waterproof sheet calmly enjoying his
+sergeant-major's tea. "Ain't none of you blokes firsty?" was his
+greeting.&mdash;<i>R. J. Richards (late 61st Trench Mortar Battery, 20th London
+Division), 15 London Street, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jack's Unwelcome Present</h3>
+
+<p>Our company were holding the line, or what <i>was</i> a line of trenches
+a short time before, when Jerry opened out with all kinds of loudspeakers
+and musical instruments that go to make war real.</p>
+
+<p>We were knocked about and nearly blinded with smoke and flying
+sandbags. The best we could do was to grope our way about with arms
+outstretched to feel just where we were.</p>
+
+<p>Eventually someone clutched me, saying, "Is that you, Charlie&mdash;are
+you all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Jack," I answer, "are you all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't know fer sure," he says as he dives his hand through
+his tunic to his chest and holds on to me with the other. I had a soft
+place in my heart for Jack, for nobody ever sent him a parcel, so what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+was mine was Jack's. But not the piece of shrapnel that came out
+when he withdrew his hand from inside his tunic!</p>
+
+<p>"The only thing that ever I had sent me&mdash;and that from Jerry!"
+says Jack. "We was always taught to love our enemies!"</p>
+
+<p>They sure loved us, for shortly after I received my little gift of love,
+which put me to by-by for several months. But that Cockney lad from
+East London never grumbled at his hard lot. He looked at me, his
+corporal, and no wonder he clung round my neck, for he has told me since
+the war that he was only sixteen then. A brave lad!&mdash;<i>D. C. Maskell
+(late 20th Battn. Middlesex Regt.), 25 Lindley Road, Leyton, E.10</i>.</p>
+
+
+<h3>Goalie Lets One Through</h3>
+
+<p>In September 1916 we landed in a portion of German trench and I
+was given orders to hang on. Shells were bursting all around us, so
+we decided to have a smoke.</p>
+
+<p>My two Cockney pals&mdash;Nobby and Harry, who were a goalie and centre-forward
+respectively&mdash;were noted for their zeal in keeping us alive.</p>
+
+<p>Nobby was eager to see what was going on over the top, so he had a
+peep&mdash;and for his pains got shot through the ear. He fell back in a heap
+and exclaimed, "Well saved, goalie! Couldn't been better if I'd tried."</p>
+
+<p>"Garn," said Harry, bending over him, "it's blinkin' well gorn right
+frew, mate."&mdash;<i>Patrick Beckwith, 5 Duke Road, Chiswick, W.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Good Samaritan Foiled</h3>
+
+<p>I was rather badly wounded near Bullecourt, on the Arras front, and
+was lying on a stretcher outside the dressing station.</p>
+
+<p>Nearby stood a burly Cockney with one arm heavily bandaged. In
+the other hand he held his ration of hot coffee.</p>
+
+<p>Noticing my distress, he offered me his drink, saying, "'Ere y'are,
+mate, 'ave a swig at this." One of the stretcher-bearers cried: "Take
+that away! He mustn't have it!"</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney slunk off.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, ugly," he said. "Take the food aht of a poor bloke's
+mouf, would yer?"</p>
+
+<p>Afterwards I learned the stretcher-bearer, by his action, had saved
+my life. Still, I shan't forget my Cockney friend's generosity.&mdash;<i>A. P. S.
+(late 5th London Regiment), Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Proof of Marksmanship</h3>
+
+<p>Poperinghe: a pitch-black night. We were resting when a party
+of the West Indian Labour Company came marching past. Jerry
+sent one over. Luckily, only one of the party was hit.</p>
+
+<p>A voice from the darkness: "Alf! keep low, mate. Jerry 'as got his
+eye in&mdash;'e's 'it a nigger in the dark!"&mdash;<i>C. Jakeman (late 4/4th City of
+London Royal Fusiliers), 5 Hembridge Place, St. John's Wood, N.W.8.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Well, He Ain't Done In, See!"</h3>
+
+<p>During the great German offensive in March 1918 our company
+was trying to hold the enemy at Albert. My platoon was in an old
+trench in front of Albert station, and was in rather a tight corner, the
+casualties being pretty heavy. A runner managed to get through to
+us with a message. He asked our sergeant to send a man to another
+platoon with the message.</p>
+
+<p>One of my pals, named Gordon, shouted, "Give it to me; I'll go."</p>
+
+<p>He crept out of the trench and up a steep incline and over the other
+side, and was apparently being peppered by machine-gun fire all the way.
+We had little hope of him ever getting there. About a couple of hours
+later another Cockney cried: "Blimey! He's coming back!"</p>
+
+<p>We could see him now, crawling towards us. He got within a dozen
+yards of our trench, and then a Jerry "coal-box" arrived. It knocked
+us into the mud at the bottom of our trench and seemed to blow Gordon,
+together with a ton or so of earth, twenty feet in the air, and he came
+down in the trench.</p>
+
+<p>"That's done the poor blighter in," said the other Cockney as we
+rushed to him. To our surprise Gordon spoke:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he ain't done in&mdash;see!"</p>
+
+<p>He had got the message to the other platoon, and was little the worse
+for his experience of being blown skyward. I think that brave fellow's
+deed was one of many that had to go unrewarded.&mdash;<i>H. Nachbaur (late
+7th Suffolks), 4 Burnham Road, St. Albans, Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Baby's Fell Aht er Bed!"</h3>
+
+<p>The day before our division (38th Welch) captured Mametz Wood
+on the Somme, in July 1916, our platoon occupied a recently captured
+German trench. We were examining in a very deep dug-out some of
+Jerry's black bread when a heavy shell landed almost at the entrance
+with a tremendous crash. Earth, filled sandbags, etc., came thundering
+down the steps, and my thoughts were of being buried alive about
+forty feet underground. But amid all the din, Sam (from Walworth)
+amused us with his cry: "Muvver! Baby's fell aht er bed!"&mdash;<i>P. Carter
+(late 1st London Welch), 6 Amhurst Terrace, Hackney, E.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Stamp Edging Wanted</h3>
+
+<p>During severe fighting in Cambrai in 1917 we were taking up position
+in the front line when suddenly over came a "present" from
+Jerry, scattering our men in all directions and causing a few casualties.</p>
+
+<p>Among the unfortunate ones was a Cockney whose right hand was
+completely blown off.</p>
+
+<p>In a sitting position he calmly turned to the private next to him and
+exclaimed "Blimey, they've blown me blinkin' German band (hand) off.
+Got a bit of stamp edging, mate?"&mdash;<i>T. Evans, 24 Russell Road, Wood
+End Green, Northolt, Greenford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Oo's 'It&mdash;You or Me?"</h3>
+
+<p>It was our fifth day in the front line in a sector of the Arras front. In
+the afternoon, after a terrible barrage, Jerry came over the top on our
+left, leaving our immediate front severely alone.</p>
+
+<p>Our platoon Lewis gun was manned at that time by "Cooty," a
+Cockney, he being "Number One" on the gun. We were blazing away
+at the advancing tide when a shell exploded close to the gun.</p>
+
+<p>"Cooty" was seen to go rigid for a moment, and then he quickly
+rolled to one side to make way for "Number Two" to take his place.
+He took "Number Two's" position beside the gun.</p>
+
+<p>The new "Number One" saw that "Cooty" had lost three fingers,
+and told him to retire. "Cooty" would not have that, but calmly
+began to refill an empty magazine. "Number One" again requested
+him to leave, and a sharp tiff occurred between them.</p>
+
+<p>"Cooty" was heard to say, "Look 'ere, oo's <i>'it</i>&mdash;you or me?" "You
+are," said "Number One."</p>
+
+<p>"Then mind your own blinkin' business," said "Cooty," "and get
+on with shelling these peas."</p>
+
+<p>Poor "Cooty," who had lost his left foot as well, passed out shortly
+after, was a Guardsman at one time.&mdash;<i>D. S. T., Kilburn, N.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Stocking Bomb</h3>
+
+<p>We were a desert mobile column, half-way across the Sinai Peninsula
+from Kantara to Gaza. Turkish aeroplanes paid us a daily visit
+and pelted us with home-made "stocking-bombs" (old socks filled with
+nails, old iron, and explosives).</p>
+
+<p>On this particular day we were being bombed and a direct hit on one
+gunner's shoulder knocked him to the ground, but failed to explode.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting up in pain he blinked at the stocking-bomb and then at the
+plane and shouted: "Nah chuck us yer blinkin' boots dahn!" He
+then fainted and we helped him, but could not resist a broad smile.&mdash;<i>A.
+Crose, 77 Caistor Park Road, West Ham, E.15.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not an Acrobat</h3>
+
+<p>In a communication trench on the Somme, near Guillemont, in August
+1916, we were halted for a "blow" on our way up when Jerry opened
+with shrapnel.</p>
+
+<p>Private Reynolds, from Marylebone, had his right hand cut off at the
+wrist. We bound his arm as best we could, and whilst doing so one man
+said to him, "A sure Blighty one, mate&mdash;and don't forget when you get
+home, drop us a line to let's know how you are getting on in hospital."</p>
+
+<p>"Yus! I'll write all right," said Reynolds, and then, suddenly, "'Ere,
+wot d'yer fink I am, a blinkin' acrobat? 'Ow can I write wivout a right
+arm ter write wiv?"&mdash;<i>A. Sharman (late 12th Royal Fusiliers), 177 Grenville
+Road, N.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Story Without an Ending</h3>
+
+<p>Our gun position lay just behind the Ancre, and Fritz generally
+strafed us for an hour or two each day, starting about the same time.
+When the first shell came over we used to take cover in a disused trench.</p>
+
+<p>One day, when the strafe began, I grabbed two story magazines just
+before we went to the trench, and, arrived there, handed one to my
+Cockney pal.</p>
+
+<p>We had both been reading for some time when a shell burst uncomfortably
+near, and a splinter hit my pal's book and shot it right out of his
+hand. At which he exclaimed: "Fritz,
+yer blighter, I'll never know nah whether
+he was goin' to marry the girl or cut 'er
+bloomin' froat."&mdash;<i>G. W. Wicheloe (late
+138th Heavy Battery, R.G.A.), 162 Stevens
+Road, Chadwell Heath, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cause and Effect</h3>
+
+<p>A 5·9 had burst on the parados of our
+trench, and caused&mdash;as 5·9's usually
+did&mdash;a bit of a mess.</p>
+
+<p>A brand-new officer came around the
+trench, saw the damage, and asked:
+"Whatever caused this mess?"</p>
+
+<p>Without the slightest suspicion of a
+smile a Cockney private answered: "An
+explosive bullet, sir!"&mdash;<i>C. T. Coates, 46
+Hillingdon Street, London, S.E.17.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
+<img src="images/i063.jpg" width="248" height="500" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... an explosive bullet, sir!"</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>The Cockney and the Cop</h3>
+
+<p>During the final push near Cambrai
+Jerry had just been driven from a
+very elaborate observation post&mdash;a steel-constructed
+tower. Of course, we soon
+occupied it to enable us to see Jerry's
+hasty retreat.</p>
+
+<p>No sooner had we got settled when, crash, Jerry had a battery of pipsqueaks
+trained on us, firing gas shells. A direct hit brought the building
+down.</p>
+
+<p>By the time we had sorted ourselves out our eyes began to grow dim,
+and soon we were temporarily blind. So we took each other's hands, an
+ex-policeman leading.</p>
+
+<p>After a few moments a Cockney friend chimed out, "Say, Cop, do
+you think you can find the lock-up now, or had you better blow your
+whistle?"&mdash;<i>H. Rainford (late R.F.A.), 219 The Grove, Hammersmith,
+W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Drorin' Room</h3>
+
+<p>It was on "W" Beach, Gallipoli, some months after the historic
+landing. It was fairly safe to picnic here, but for the attentions of
+"Beachy Bill," a big Turkish gun. I was with six other R.F.A. details
+in a dug-out which was labelled, or rather libelled, "The Ritz."</p>
+
+<p>"Smiler" Smith gave it that name, and always referred to this
+verminous hovel in terms of respect. Chalked notices such as "Wait
+for the Lift," "Card Room," "Buffet," were his work.</p>
+
+<p>A dull thud in the distance&mdash;the familiar scream&mdash;and <i>plomp</i> came
+one from "Bill," a few yards from the Ritz. Only "Smiler" was really
+hurt. He received a piece of shell on his arm. As they carried him
+away, he called faintly for his tobacco tin.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you leave it, 'Smiler'?"</p>
+
+<p>"In the drorin' room on the grand pianner," said "Smiler" faintly.&mdash;<i>Gunner
+W. (late 29th Division, R.F.A.).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Getting His Goat</h3>
+
+<p>Sandy was one of those whom nature seemed to have intended for a
+girl. Sandy by colour, pale and small of features, and without the
+sparkling wit of his Cockney comrades, he was the butt of many a joke.</p>
+
+<p>One dark and dirty night we trailed out of the line at Vermelles and
+were billeted in a barn. The farmhouse still sheltered its owner and the
+remainder of his live-stock, including a goat in a small shed.</p>
+
+<p>"Happy" Day, having discovered the goat, called out, "Hi, Sandy!
+There's some Maconochie rations in that 'ere shed. Fetch 'em in, mate."</p>
+
+<p>Off went Sandy, to return hastily with a face whiter than usual, and
+saying in his high treble: "'Appy, I can't fetch them. There's two awful
+eyes in that shed."</p>
+
+<p>Subsequently Jerry practically obliterated the farm, and when we
+returned to the line "Happy" Day appropriated the goat as a mascot.</p>
+
+<p>We had only been in the line a few hours when we had the worst
+bombardment I remember. Sandy and the goat seemed kindred spirits in
+their misery and terror.</p>
+
+<p>"Happy" had joined the great majority. The goat, having wearied
+of trench life and army service, had gone over the top on his own account.
+The next thing we knew was that Sandy was "over" after him, shells
+dropping around them. Then the goat and "Sandy Greatheart" disappeared
+behind a cloud of black and yellow smoke.&mdash;<i>S. G. Bushell (late
+Royal Berks), 21 Moore Buildings, Gilbert Street, W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jennie the Flier</h3>
+
+<p>It was my job for about two months, somewhere in the summer of
+1917, to take Jennie the mule up to the trenches twice a day with
+rations, or shells, for the 35th Trench Mortar Battery, to which I was
+attached. We had to cover about 5 kilos. from the Q.M. stores at Rouville,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+Arras, to the line. When Jerry put a few over our way it was a job to
+get Jennie forward.</p>
+
+<p>One night we arrived with a full load, and the officer warned me to get
+unloaded quick as there was to be a big bombardment. No sooner had
+I finished than over came the first shell&mdash;and away went Jennie, bowling
+over two or three gunners.</p>
+
+<p>Someone caught her and I mounted for the return journey. Then
+the bombardment began in earnest.</p>
+
+<p>You ought to have seen her go! Talk about a racehorse! I kept
+saying, "Gee up, Jennie, old girl, don't get the wind up, we shall soon
+get back to Rouville!"</p>
+
+<p>I looked round and could see the flashes of the guns. That was the
+way to make Jennie go. She never thought of stopping till we got home.&mdash;<i>W.
+Holmes (9th Essex Regiment), 72 Fleet Road, Hampstead, N.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Mission Fulfilled</h3>
+
+<p>On August 28, 1916, we were told to take over a series of food dumps
+which had been formed in the front and support lines at Hamel,
+on the Ancre, before a general attack came off.</p>
+
+<p>On the following night Corporal W&mdash;&mdash;, a true and gallant Cockney who
+was in charge of a party going back to fetch rations, came to my dug-out
+to know if there were anything special I wished him to bring.</p>
+
+<p>I asked him to bring me a tin of cigarettes. On the return journey,
+as the party was crossing a road which cut through one of the communicating
+trenches, a shell struck the road, killing two privates and
+fatally wounding Corporal W&mdash;&mdash;.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word the corporal put his hand into his pocket and, producing
+a tin, held it out to an uninjured member of the party.</p>
+
+<p>I got my smokes.&mdash;<i>L. J. Morgan (late Capt., The Royal Sussex Regiment),
+1 Nevern Square, S.W.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Saved the Tea</h3>
+
+<p>On the night before our big attack on July 1, 1916, on the Somme,
+eight of us were in a dug-out getting a little rest. Jerry must have
+found some extra shells for he was strafing pretty heavily.</p>
+
+<p>Two Cockney pals from Stratford were busy down on their hands and
+knees with some lighted grease and pieces of dry sandbag, trying to boil
+a mess-tin of water to make some tea.</p>
+
+<p>The water was nearly on the boil when Jerry dropped a "big 'un"
+right into the side of our dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>The smoke and dust had hardly cleared, when one of the Stratfordites
+exclaimed, looking down at the overturned mess-tin, "Blimey, that's
+caused it." Almost immediately his pal (lying on his back, his face
+covered with blood and dirt, and his right hand clasped tightly) answered:
+"'S'all right. I ain't put the tea and sugar in."&mdash;<i>J. Russ (Cpl., late 6th
+Battn. Royal Berkshire Regt.), 309 Ilford Lane, Ilford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Old Dutch Unlucky</h3>
+
+<p>After a week in Ypres Salient in February 1915 we were back at
+a place called Vlamertinghe "resting," i.e. providing the usual
+working parties at night. Going out with one of these parties, well
+loaded with barbed wire, poles, etc., our rifles slung on our shoulders,
+things in general were fairly quiet. A stray bullet struck the piling
+swivel of the rifle of "Darkie," the man in front of me. "Missed my
+head by the skin of its teeth," said "Darkie." "Good job the old Dutch
+wasn't here. She reckons she's been unlucky ever since she set eyes on
+me&mdash;and there's another pension for life gone beggin'."&mdash;<i>B. Wiseman
+(late Oxford and Bucks L.I.), 12 Ursula Street, Battersea, S.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Long Streak of Misery</h3>
+
+<p>Dusk was falling on the second day of the battle of Loos. I was
+pottering about looking for the other end of our line at the entrance
+to Orchard Street trench. A voice hailed me: "'Ere, mate! Is this
+the way aht?"</p>
+
+<p>It came from a little Cockney, a so-called "walking" wounded case.
+Immediately behind him there hobbled painfully six feet of complete
+abjection.</p>
+
+<p>I gave them directions, and told them that in two or three hundred
+yards they should be out of danger. Then Jerry dropped a "crump."
+It tortured the sorely-tried nerves of the long fellow, and when the bricks
+and dust had settled, he declared, with sudden conviction: "We're going
+to lose this blinkin' war, we are!"</p>
+
+<p>His companion gave him a look of contempt.</p>
+
+<p>"You ain't 'arf a long streak of misery," he said. "If I fort that
+I'd go back nah an' 'ave another shot at 'em&mdash;even if you 'ad to carry
+me back."&mdash;<i>"Lines," (33 (S) Bty), 24 Clifton Road, Maida Vale, W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Smudger's" Tattoo</h3>
+
+<p>"Smudger" Smith, from Hoxton, had just returned off leave,
+and joined us at Frankton Camp, near Ypres. Not long after
+his arrival "Jerry" started strafing us with his long-range guns, but
+"Smudger" was more concerned with the tattooing which he had had
+done on his arms on leave.</p>
+
+<p>I said they were very disfiguring, and advised him to have them
+removed, giving him an address to go to when he was again in London,
+and telling him the probable price.</p>
+
+<p>Not very long after our conversation "Jerry" landed a shell about
+forty yards away from us and made us part company for a while.
+When I pulled myself together and looked for "Smudger" he was
+half-buried with earth and looked in much pain.</p>
+
+<p>I went over to him and began to dig him out. Whilst I was thus
+engaged he said to me in a weak voice, but with a smile on his face:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How much did yer say it would corst to take them tattoos orf?"
+And when I told him he replied: "I fink I can get 'em done at harf-price
+nah."</p>
+
+<p>When I dug him out I found he had lost one arm.&mdash;<i>E. R. Wilson (late
+East Lancs Regt.), 22 Brindley Street, Shardeloes Road, New Cross, S.E.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Importance of a "Miss"</h3>
+
+<p>Soon after the capture of Hill 70 an artillery observation post was
+established near the new front line. A telephone line was laid to it,
+but owing to persistent shelling the wire soon became a mere succession
+of knots and joints. Communication was established at rare intervals,
+and repairing the line was a full-time job. A Cockney signaller and I went
+out at daybreak one morning to add more joints to the collection, and
+after using every scrap of spare wire available made another temporary
+job of it.</p>
+
+<p>Returning, however, we found at a cross-over that the wire had fallen
+from a short piece of board that had been stuck in the parapet to keep it
+clear of the trench. As my pal reached up to replace it his head caught
+the eye of a sniper, whose bullet, missing by a fraction, struck and knocked
+down the piece of wood.</p>
+
+<p>The signaller's exclamation was: "Blimey, mate, it's lucky he ain't
+broke the blinkin' line again!"&mdash;<i>J. Hudson (late R.G.A.), 6 Ventnor Road,
+New Cross, S.E.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"In the Midst of War&mdash;&mdash;"</h3>
+
+<p>A battalion of a London regiment was in reserve in Rivière-Grosville,
+a small village just behind the line, in March 1917.
+Towards midnight we were ordered to fall in in fighting order as it was
+believed that the Germans had retired.</p>
+
+<p>Our mission was to reconnoitre the German position, and we were
+cautioned that absolute silence must be preserved.</p>
+
+<p>All went well until we reached the German barbed wire entanglements,
+that had to be negotiated by narrow paths, through which we proceeded
+softly and slowly, and with the wind "well up."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the air was rent by a stream of blistering invective, and a
+Cockney Tommy turned round on his pal, who had tripped and accidentally
+prodded him with the point of his bayonet, and at the top of
+his voice said:</p>
+
+<p>"Hi, wot's the blinkin' gime, Charlie? Do that again and I'll knock
+yer ruddy 'ead off."</p>
+
+<p>Charlie raised his voice to the level of the other's and said he'd like
+to see him do it, and while we flattened ourselves on the ground expecting
+a storm of bullets and bombs at any moment, the two pals dropped their
+rifles and had it out with their fists.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately, rumour was correct, the Germans had retired.&mdash;<i>H. T.
+Scillitoe, 77 Stanmore Road, Stevenage, Herts.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Case for the Ordnance</h3>
+
+<p>A pitch dark night on the Salonika front in 1917. I was in charge
+of an advanced detachment near a railhead.</p>
+
+<p>A general and a staff officer were travelling by rail-motor towards the
+front line when in the darkness the rail-motor crashed into some stationary
+freight trucks, completely wrecking the vehicle and instantly killing the
+driver.</p>
+
+<p>I rushed with a stretcher party to render help. The general and his
+staff officer were unconscious amid the wreckage.</p>
+
+<p>Feverishly we worked to remove the debris which pinned them down.
+Two of us caught the general beneath the shoulders, and one was raising
+his legs when to his horror one leg came away in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>When the general regained his senses, seeing our concern, he quickly
+reassured us. The leg turned out to be a wooden one! He had lost
+the original at Hill 60.</p>
+
+<p>The tension over, one of the stretcher-bearers, a Cockney from Mile
+End, whispered into my ear, "We can't take 'im to the 'orspital, sarge,
+he wants to go dahn to the Ordnance!"&mdash;<i>Sgt. T. C. Jones, M.S.M., 15
+Bushey Mill Lane, Watford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Dismal Jimmy's Prisoner</h3>
+
+<p>Out of the ebb and flow, the mud and blood, the din and confusion
+of a two days' strafe on the Somme in September 1917 my particular
+chum, Private James X., otherwise known as "Dismal Jimmy," emerged
+with a German prisoner who was somewhat below the usual stature and
+considerably the worse for the wear and tear of his encounter with the
+Cockney soldier.</p>
+
+<p>"Jimmy," although obviously proud of his captive, was, as usual,
+"fed up" with the war, the strafe, and everything else. To make matters
+worse, on his way to the support trenches he was caught in the head by
+a sniper's bullet.</p>
+
+<p>His pet grievance, however, did not come from this particular misfortune,
+but from the fact that the prisoner had not taken advantage of
+the opportunity to "'Op it!" when the incident occurred. "Wot yer
+fink ov 'im, mate?" he queried. "Followed me all rahnd the blinkin'
+trenches, 'e did! Thinks I got a bit o' tripe on a skewer, maybe, th'
+dirty dog!" "Jimmy" muttered. Then he came under the orders
+of a Higher Command.&mdash;<i>H. J. R., 1 Central Buildings, Westminster, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Creepy Feeling</h3>
+
+<p>In the brick-fields at La Bassée, 1915, there was a pump about five
+yards from our front line which we dare not approach in daylight. At
+night it was equally dangerous as it squeaked and so drew the sniper's fire.</p>
+
+<p>We gave up trying to use it after a few of our fellows had been sniped
+in their attempts, until Nobby Clarke said <i>he</i> would get the water, adding:
+"That blinkin' sniper hasn't my name on any of his ruddy bullets."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>After he had gone we heard the usual squeak of the pump, followed by
+the inevitable <i>ping!</i> ... <i>ping!</i> We waited. No Nobby returned.</p>
+
+<p>Two of us crawled out to where he lay to bring him in. "Strewth,
+Bill," he cried when my mate touched him, "you didn't 'arf put the
+blinkin' wind up me, <i>creepin' aht like that</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>There he lay, on his back, with a piece of rope tied to the handle of
+the pump. We always got our water after that.&mdash;<i>F. J. Pike (late 2nd
+Grenadier Guards), 4 Hilldrop Road, Bromley, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Toot-Sweet," the Runner</h3>
+
+<p>Scene: Before Combles in the front line.</p>
+
+<p>Position: Acute.</p>
+
+<p>Several runners had been despatched from the forward position with
+urgent messages for Headquarters, and all had suffered the common
+fate of these intrepid fellows. One Cockney named Sweet, and known as
+"Toot-Sweet" for obvious reasons, had distinguished himself upon
+various occasions in acting as a runner.</p>
+
+<p>A volunteer runner was called for to cover a particularly dangerous
+piece of ground, and our old friend was to the fore as usual. "But,"
+said the company officer, "I can't send you again&mdash;someone else must
+go."</p>
+
+<p>Imagine his astonishment when "Toot-Sweet" said, "Giv' us this
+charnce, sir. I've got two mentions in dispatches now, an' I only want
+annuvver to git a medal."</p>
+
+<p>He went, but he did not get a medal.&mdash;<i>E. V. S. (late Middlesex Regt.),
+London, N.W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Applying the Moral</h3>
+
+<p>Before we made an attack on "The Mound of Death," St. Eloi,
+in the early part of 1916, our Brigadier-General addressed the
+battalion and impressed upon us the importance of taking our objective.</p>
+
+<p>He told us the tale of two mice which fell into a basin of milk. The
+faint-hearted one gave up and was drowned. The other churned
+away with his legs until the milk turned into butter and he could
+walk away! He hoped that we would show the same determination
+in our attack.</p>
+
+<p>We blew up part of the German front line, which had been mined,
+and attacked each side of the crater, and took the position, though with
+heavy losses.</p>
+
+<p>On the following day one of my platoon fell into the crater, which,
+of course, was very muddy. As he plunged about in it he shouted
+"When I've churned this ruddy mud into concrete I'm 'opping aht
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>This was the action in which our gallant chaplain, Captain the Rev.
+Noel Mellish, won the V.C.&mdash;<i>"Reg. Bomber," 4th Royal Fusiliers, 3rd
+Division.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Spelling v. Shelling</h3>
+
+<p>An attack was to be made by our battalion at Givenchy in 1915.
+The Germans must have learned of the intention, for two hours
+before it was due to begin they sent up a strong barrage, causing many
+casualties.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 395px;">
+<img src="images/i070.jpg" width="395" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Letters and cards, which might be their last, were being sent home
+by our men, and a Cockney at the other end of our dug-out shouted to
+his mate, "'Arry, 'ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"&mdash;<i>H. W. Mason
+(late 23rd London Regt.), 26 Prairie Street, Battersea, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<p>Too Much Hot Water</p>
+
+<p>We were taking a much-needed bath and change in the Brewery vats at
+Poperinghe, when Jerry started a mad five minutes' "strafe" with, as it
+seemed, the old Brewery as a target.</p>
+
+<p>Above the din of explosions, falling bricks, and general "wind-up"
+the aggrieved voice of Sammy Wilkes from Poplar, who was still in the
+vat, was heard:</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme, and I only asked for a little drop more 'ot water."&mdash;<i>Albert
+Girardot (late K.R.R.), 250 Cornwall Road, Ladbroke Grove, W.11.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Ducks and Drakes! Ducks and Drakes!"</h3>
+
+<p>After the evacuation of the Dardanelles the "Drakes" of the Royal
+Naval Division were ordered to France. Amongst them was Jack
+(his real name was John). A young Soccer player, swift of foot, he was
+chosen as a "runner."</p>
+
+<p>One day he tumbled into a shell hole. And just as he had recovered
+his wits in came Colonel Freyberg, V.C., somewhat wounded. Seeing
+Jack, he told him he was just the boy he wanted&mdash;the lad had run away
+from home to join up before he was seventeen&mdash;and scribbling a note
+the colonel handed it to him.</p>
+
+<p>The boy was told if he delivered it safely he could help the colonel
+to take Beaucourt. Jack began to scramble out. It was none too inviting,
+for shells were bursting in all directions, and it was much more comfortable
+inside. With a wide vocabulary from the Old Kent Road, he timely
+remembered that his father was a clergyman, and muttering to himself,
+"Ducks and drakes, ducks and drakes," he reached the top and went
+on his way.</p>
+
+<p>The sequel was that the message was delivered, reinforcements came
+up, led by the boy to the colonel, and Beaucourt was taken.&mdash;<i>Father
+Hughes, 60 Hainault Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>You Must have Discipline</h3>
+
+<p>On September 14, 1916, at Angle Wood on the Somme, the 168th
+(London) Brigade Signals were unloading a limber on a slope, on
+top of which was a battery which Jerry was trying to find. One of his
+shells found us, knocking all of us over and wounding nine or ten of us
+(one fatally).</p>
+
+<p>As the smoke and dust cleared, our Cockney sergeant (an old soldier
+whose slogan was "You must have dis<i>cip</i>line") gradually rose to a
+sitting position, and, whipping out his notebook and pencil, called
+"Nah, then, oo's wounded?" and calmly proceeded to write down
+names.&mdash;<i>Wm. R. Smith (late R.E. Signals), 231 Halley Road, Manor
+Park, E.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>L.B.W. in Mespot</h3>
+
+<p>At a certain period during the operations in Mesopotamia so dependent
+were both the British and the Turks on the supply of water from
+the Tigris that it became an unwritten law that water-carriers from both
+sides were not to be sniped at.</p>
+
+<p>This went on until a fresh British regiment, not having had the position
+explained, fired on a party of Turks as they were returning from the
+river. The next time we went down to get water the Turks, of course,
+returned the compliment; so from then onwards all water carrying had
+to be done under cover of darkness.</p>
+
+<p>On one of these occasions a Turkish sniper peppered our water party
+as they were returning to our lines. They all got back, however; but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+one, a man from Limehouse, was seen to be struggling with his water
+container only half full, and at the same time it was noticed that his
+trousers and boots were saturated.</p>
+
+<p>"Hi!" shouted the sergeant, "you've lost half the water. Did that
+sniper get your bucket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not 'im," replied the Cockney, "I saw to that. 'E only got me leg."</p>
+
+<p>What, in the darkness, appeared to be water spilt from the bucket
+was really the result of a nasty flesh wound.&mdash;<i>J. M. Rendle (Lieut.,
+I.A.R.O.), White Cottage, St. Leonard's Gardens, Hove, Sussex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Trench-er Work</h3>
+
+<p>We were attacking Messines Ridge. The ground was a mass of
+flooded shell-holes. Hearing a splash and some cursing in a familiar
+voice, I called out, "Are you all right, Tubby?"</p>
+
+<p>The reply came, as he crawled out of a miniature mine crater, "Yus,
+but I've lorst me 'ipe (rifle)."</p>
+
+<p>I asked what he was going to do, and he replied, "You dig them
+German sausages out with yer baynit and I'll eat 'em."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, he pulled out his knife and fork and proceeded towards the
+enemy trenches.&mdash;<i>"Pip Don" (London Regt.), 22 Ingram Road, Thornton
+Heath.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"The Best Man&mdash;Goes Fust"</h3>
+
+<p>In the second battle of Arras, 1917, our regiment was held up near
+Gavrelle and was occupying a line of shell-holes. The earth was
+heaving all around us with the heavy barrage. Peeping over the top
+of my shell-hole I found my neighbours, "Shorty" (of Barnes) and
+"Tiny" (of Kent) arguing about who was the best man.</p>
+
+<p>All of a sudden over came one of Jerry's five-nines. It burst too close
+to "Shorty," who got the worst of it, and was nearly done for. But
+he finished his argument, for he said to "Tiny" in a weak voice, "That
+shows you who's the best man. My ole muvver always says as the best
+goes fust."&mdash;<i>J. Saxby, Paddington, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>When Clemenceau Kissed the Sergeant</h3>
+
+<p>About Christmas of 1917 I was on the Somme with one of the most
+Cockney of the many battalions of the Royal Fusiliers. As we
+sheltered in dug-outs from the "gale" Fritz was putting over, to our
+surprise we heard a voice greet us in French, "<i>Allons, mes enfants</i>: <i>Ça
+va toujours</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Looking up we beheld an old man in shabby suit and battered hat
+who seemed the typical French peasant. "Well, of all the old idiots,"
+called out the sergeant. "Shut yer face an' 'ook it, ye blamed old fool."
+For answer the old man gave the sergeant the surprise of his life by
+seizing him in a grip of iron and planting a resounding kiss on each cheek,
+French fashion.</p>
+
+<p>Just at that moment some brass hats came along and the mystery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+was explained. The "old fool" was the late Georges Clemenceau, then
+French War Minister, who had come to see for himself what it was like
+in our sector and had lost his guides.</p>
+
+<p>"An' to think that 'e kissed me just like I was a kid, after I'd told
+'im to 'ook it," commented the sergeant afterwards. "Wonder wot
+'e'd 'a done 'ad I told 'im to go to 'ell, as I'd 'alf a mind to."</p>
+
+<p>Years later I was one of a party of the British Legion received in Paris
+by "The Tiger," and I recalled the incident. "Père La Victoire"
+laughed heartily. "That Cockney sergeant was right," he said, "I was
+an old fool to go about like that in the line, but then somebody has got
+to play the fool in war-time, so that there may be no follies left for the
+wise heads to indulge in."&mdash;<i>H. Stockman, Hôtel Terminus, Rue St. Lazare,
+Paris, VIIIème, France.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Poet and&mdash;Prophet</h3>
+
+<p>I was sitting with my pal in the trenches of the front line waiting
+for the next move when I heard our Cockney break into the chorus
+of a home-made song:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+"'Twas moonlight in the trenches,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sky was royal blue,</span><br />
+When Jerry let his popgun go,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And up the 'ole 'ouse flew."</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>The last words were drowned in a terrific crash. There was sudden
+quiet afterwards, and then a voice said, "There y'are, wot did I tell
+yer?"&mdash;<i>T. E. Crouch, 28 Eleanor Road, Hackney, E.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Pub that Opened Punctually</h3>
+
+<p>It was at the village of Zudkerque, where Fritz had bombed and
+blown up a dump in 1916. My pal and I were standing outside a
+cafe, the windows of which were shuttered, when the blast of a terrific
+explosion blew out the shutters. They hit my pal and me on the head
+and knocked us into the roadway.</p>
+
+<p>My pal picked himself up, and, shaking bits of broken glass off him
+and holding a badly gashed head, said: "Lumme, Ginger, they don't
+'arf open up quick 'ere. Let's go an 'ave one."&mdash;<i>J. March (late R.E.),
+London, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Precious Tiny Tot</h3>
+
+<p>We had paraded for the rum issue at Frankton Camp, near Ypres,
+when the enemy opened fire with long-range guns. A Cockney
+came forward with his mug, drew his issue, and moved off to drink it
+under cover and at leisure. Suddenly a large shell whooped over and
+burst about 40 yards away. With a casual glance at the fountain of
+earth which soared up, the man calmly removed his shrapnel helmet and
+held it over his mug until the rain of earth and stones ceased.&mdash;<i>"Skipper,"
+D.L.I., London, W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cigs and Cough Drops</h3>
+
+<p>Cigarettes we knew not; food was scarce, so was ammunition.
+Consequently I was detailed on the eve of the retreat from Serbia to
+collect boxes of S.A.A. lying near the front line.</p>
+
+<p>On the way to report my arrival to the infantry officer I found a
+Cockney Tommy badly wounded in the chest. "It's me chest, ain't
+it, mate?" he asked. I nodded in reply. "Then I'll want corf drops,
+not them," and with that he handed me a packet of cigarettes. How
+he got them and secretly saved them up so long is a mystery.</p>
+
+<p>I believe he knew that he would not require either cough drops or
+cigarettes, and I took a vow to keep the empty packet to remind me of
+the gallant fellow.&mdash;<i>H. R. (late R.F.A.), 10th Division, London, N.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Smiler" to the End</h3>
+
+<p>When Passchendaele started on July 31, 1917, we who were holding
+ground captured in the Messines stunt of June 7 carried out a
+"dummy" attack.</p>
+
+<p>One of the walking wounded coming back from this affair of bluff, I
+struck a hot passage, for Jerry was shelling the back areas with terrific
+pertinacity. Making my way to the corduroy road by Mount Kemmel,
+I struck a stretcher party. Their burden was a rifleman of the R.B.'s,
+whose body was a mass of bandages. Seeing me ducking and dodging
+every time a salvo burst near he called out:</p>
+
+<p>"Keep wiv me, mate, 'cos two shells never busts in the same 'ole&mdash;and
+if I ain't a shell 'ole 'oo is?"</p>
+
+<p>Sheer grit kept him alive until after we reached Lord Derby's War
+Hospital outside Warrington, and the nickname of "Smiler" fitted
+him to the last.&mdash;<i>W. G. C., 2 Avonly Road, S.E.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"The Bishop" and the Bright Side</h3>
+
+<p>A fully-qualified chartered accountant in the City, my pal,
+"The Bishop"&mdash;so called because of his dignified manner&mdash;was
+promoted company-clerk in the Irish Rifles at Messines in 1917.</p>
+
+<p>Company headquarters were in a dark and dismal barn where the
+Company Commander and "The Bishop" were writing under difficulties
+one fine morning&mdash;listening acutely to the shriek and crash of Jerry's
+whizz-bangs just outside the ramshackle door.</p>
+
+<p>The betting was about fifty to one on a direct hit at any moment. The
+skipper had a wary eye on "The Bishop"&mdash;oldish, shortish, stoutish,
+rather comical card in his Tommy's kit. Both were studiously preserving
+an air of outward calm.</p>
+
+<p>Then the direct hit came&mdash;high up, bang through the rafters, and blew
+off the roof. "The Bishop" looked up at the sky, still clutching his
+fountain-pen.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, that's better, sir," he said. "Now we can see what we are doing."&mdash;<i>P.
+J. K., Westbourne Grove, W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Chuck yer Blinkin' 'Aggis at 'im!"</h3>
+
+<p>The Cockney inhabitants of "Brick Alley," at Carnoy, on the
+Somme in 1916, had endured considerable attention from a German
+whizz-bang battery situated a mile or so away behind Trones Wood.</p>
+
+<p>During a lull in the proceedings a fatigue party of "Jocks," each
+carrying a 40-lb. sphere, the business end of a "toffee-apple" (trench
+mortar bomb), made their appearance, and were nicely strung out in
+the trench when Jerry opened out again.</p>
+
+<p>The chances of a direct hit made matters doubly unpleasant.</p>
+
+<p>The tension became a little too much for one of the regular billetees,
+and from a funk-hole in the side of the trench a reproachful voice
+addressed the nearest Highlander: "For the luv o' Mike, Jock, get up
+and chuck yer blinkin' 'aggis at
+'em."&mdash;<i>J. C. Whiting (late 8th
+Royal Sussex Pioneers), 36 Hamlet
+Gardens, W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Back to Childhood</h3>
+
+<p>I had been given a lift in an
+A.S.C. lorry going to Jonchery
+on May 27, 1918, when it was
+suddenly attacked by a German
+plane. On getting a burst of
+machine-gun bullets through the
+wind-screen the driver, a stout
+man of about forty, pulled up,
+and we both clambered down.</p>
+
+<p>The plane came lower and re-opened
+fire, and as there was no
+other shelter we were obliged to
+crawl underneath the lorry and
+dodge from one side to the other
+in order to avoid the bullets.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 319px;">
+<img src="images/i075.jpg" width="319" height="400" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Fancy a bloke my age playin' 'ide an' seek"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After one hurried "pot" at the plane, and as we dived for the other
+side, my companion gasped: "Lumme! Fancy a bloke my age a-playin'
+'ide an' seek!"&mdash;<i>H. G. E. Woods, "The Willows," Bridge Street,
+Maidenhead.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Altruist</h3>
+
+<p>One afternoon in July 1917 our battalion was lying by a roadside
+on the Ypres front waiting for night to fall so that we could proceed
+to the front line trenches.</p>
+
+<p>"Smiffy" was in the bombing section of his platoon and had a bag
+of Mills grenades to carry.</p>
+
+<p>Fritz began to get busy, and soon we had shrapnel bursting overhead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+"Smiffy" immediately spread his body over his bag of bombs like a
+hen over a clutch of eggs.</p>
+
+<p>"What the 'ell are you sprawling over them bombs for?" asked the
+sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," replied Smiffy, "it's like this 'ere, sergeant. I wouldn't
+mind a little Blighty one meself, but I'd jest 'ate for any of these bombs
+ter get wounded while I'm wiv 'em."&mdash;<i>T. E. M. (late London Regt.),
+Colliers Wood, S.W.19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Minnie's Stepped on my Toe!"</h3>
+
+<p>We were lying in front of Bapaume in August 1918 awaiting reinforcements.
+They came from Doullens, and among them was a
+Cockney straight from England. He greeted our sergeant with the
+words, "Wot time does the dance start?" The sergeant, an old-timer,
+replied, "The dance starts right now."</p>
+
+<p>So over the top we went, but had not gone far when the Cockney was
+bowled over by a piece from a minnenwerfer, which took half of one
+foot away.</p>
+
+<p>I was rendering first aid when the sergeant came along. He looked
+down and said, "Hello, my lad, soon got tired of the dance, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The little Cockney looked up and despite his pain he smiled and
+said, "On wiv the dance, sergeant! I'm sitting this one aht, fer Minnie
+has stepped on my toe."&mdash;<i>E. C. Hobbs (late 1st Royal Marine Battn.),
+103 Moore Park Road, Fulham, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Dim Dawn</h3>
+
+<p>Jerry had made a surprise raid on our trenches one morning just as
+it was getting light. He got very much the worst of it, but when
+everything was over Cockney Simmonds was missing.</p>
+
+<p>We hunted everywhere, but couldn't find him. Suddenly we saw him
+approaching with a hefty looking German whom he had evidently
+taken prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you get him from, Simmonds?" we asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, d'yer see that shell-'ole over there 'alf full o' water?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," we said, all craning our necks to look.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this 'ere Fritz didn't."&mdash;<i>L. Digby (12th East Surreys), 10
+Windsor Road, Holloway, N.7.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Beau Brummell's Puttees</h3>
+
+<p>March 1918. Just before the big German offensive. One night I
+was out with a reconnoitring patrol in "No Man's Land." We had
+good reason to believe that Jerry also had a patrol in the near vicinity.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire in our direction seemed to
+indicate that we had been spotted. We dived for shell-holes and any
+available cover, breathlessly watching the bullets knock sparks off the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+barbed wire. When the firing ceased and we attempted to re-form our
+little party, a Cockney known as "Posh" Wilks was missing.</p>
+
+<p>Fearing the worst, we peered into the darkness. Just then a Verey
+light illuminated the scene, and we saw the form of "Posh" Wilks some
+little distance away. I went over to see what was wrong, and to my
+astonishment he was kneeling down carefully rewinding one of his puttees.
+"Can't get these ruddy things right anyhow to-day," he said.&mdash;<i>H. W.
+White (late Royal Sussex Regt.), 18 Airthrie Road, Goodmayes, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Plenty of Room on Top</h3>
+
+<p>On December 4, 1917, we made a surprise attack on the enemy in the
+Jabal Hamrin range in Northern Mesopotamia.</p>
+
+<p>We wore our winter clothing (the same as in Europe), with tin hats
+complete. After stumbling over the rocks in extended order for some
+time, the platoon on my left, who were on higher ground, sighted a Turkish
+camp fire on the right.</p>
+
+<p>We swung round in that direction, to find ourselves up against an almost
+blank wall of rock, about 20 ft. high, the enemy being somewhere on top.</p>
+
+<p>At last we found a place at which to scale it, one at a time. We began
+to mount, in breathless silence, expecting the first man to come tumbling
+down on top of all the rest.</p>
+
+<p>I was the second, and just as I started to climb I felt two sharp tugs
+at my entrenching tool and a hoarse Cockney voice whispered, "Full up
+inside; plenty o' room on top." I was annoyed at the time, but I have
+often laughed over it since.&mdash;<i>P. V. Harris, 89 Sherwood Park Road, S.W.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Nearly Lost His Washing-Bowl</h3>
+
+<p>In March 1917 we held the front line trenches opposite a sugar refinery
+held by the Germans. We got the order to stand to as our engineers
+were going to blow up a mine on the German position.</p>
+
+<p>Up went the mine. Then Fritz started shelling us. Shells were
+bursting above and around us. A piece of shrapnel hit a Cockney, a
+lad from Paddington, on his tin hat.</p>
+
+<p>When things calmed down another Cockney bawled out, "Lumme, that
+was a near one, Bill." "Blimey, not 'arf," was the reply. "If I 'adn't
+got my chin-strap dahn I'd 'ave lost my blooming washing-bowl."&mdash;<i>E.
+Rickard (late Middlesex Regt.), 65 Apsley End, Hemel Hempstead,
+Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bath Night</h3>
+
+<p>The trenches on the Somme were very deep and up to our knees in
+mud, and we were a pretty fine sight after being in the front line
+several days over our time.</p>
+
+<p>I shall never forget the night we passed out of the trenches&mdash;like a lot
+of mud-larks. The O.C., seeing the state we were in, ordered us to have
+a bath. We stopped at an old barn, where the R.E.'s had our water<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+ready in wooden tubs. Imagine the state of the water when, six to a tub,
+we had to skim the mud off after one another!</p>
+
+<p>Just as we were enjoying the treat, Jerry started sending over some of
+his big stuff, and one shell took the back part of the barn off.</p>
+
+<p>Everybody began getting out of the tubs, except a Cockney, who sat
+up in his tub and shouted out, "Blimey, Jerry, play the blinkin' game.
+Wait till I've washed me back. I've lorst me soap."&mdash;<i>C. Ralph (late
+Royal Welch Fusiliers), 153d Guinness Buildings, Hammersmith, W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Back to the Shack</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst on the Somme in October 1916 my pal Mac (from Notting
+Hill) and myself were sent forward to a sunken road just behind
+Les B&oelig;ufs to assist at a forward telephone post which was in communication
+with battalion H.Q. by wire and with the companies in the trenches
+by runner.</p>
+
+<p>During the night a false "S O S" was sent up, and our guns opened
+out&mdash;and, of course, so did the German guns&mdash;and smashed our telephone
+wire.</p>
+
+<p>It being "Mac's" turn out, he picked up his 'phone and went up the
+dug-out steps. When he had almost reached the top a big shell burst
+right in the dug-out entrance and blew "Mac" back down the stairs
+to the bottom, bruised, but otherwise unhurt.</p>
+
+<p>Picking himself up slowly he removed his hat, placed his hand over
+his heart, and said, gazing round, "Back to the old 'ome agin&mdash;and it
+ain't changed a bit."&mdash;<i>A. J. West (late Corpl., Signals), 1/13th London
+Regt., 212 Third Avenue, Paddington, W.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Last Gamble</h3>
+
+<p>One night in July 1917, as darkness came along, my battalion moved
+up and relieved a battalion in the front line.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning as dawn was breaking Jerry started a violent strafe. My
+platoon occupied three fire-bays, and we in the centre one could shout
+to those in the bays on either side, although we could not see them.</p>
+
+<p>In one of the end bays was "Monte Carlo" Teddy, a true lad from
+London, a "bookie's tick-tack" before the war. He was called "Monte
+Carlo" because he would gamble on anything. As a shell exploded
+anywhere near us Teddy would shout, "Are you all right, sarge?" until
+this kind of got on my nerves, so I crawled into his bay to inquire why
+he had suddenly taken such an interest in my welfare. He explained,
+"I gets up a draw larst night, sarge, a franc a time, as to which of us in
+this lot stopped a packet first, and you're my gee-gee."</p>
+
+<p>I had hardly left them when a shell exploded in their bay. The only
+one to stop a packet was Teddy, and we carried him into the next bay to
+await the stretcher-bearers. I could see he would never reach the dressing
+station.</p>
+
+<p>Within five minutes I had stopped a lovely Blighty, and they put me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+alongside Teddy. When he noticed who it was he said, "Well I'm blowed,
+just my blinkin' luck; licked a short head and I shan't last long enough
+to see if there's a' objection."</p>
+
+<p>Thus he died, as he always said he would, with his boots on, and my
+company could never replace him. Wherever two men of my old mob
+meet you can bet your boots that one or the other is sure to say, "Remember
+'Monte Carlo' Ted?"&mdash;<i>E. J. Clark (late Sergeant, Lincoln Regt.),
+c/o Sir Thomas Lipton, Bart., K.C.V.O., Osidge, Southgate, N.14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>That Infernal Drip-Drip-Drip!</h3>
+
+<p>We were trying to sleep in half a dug-out that was roofed with a
+waterproof sheet&mdash;Whale and I. It was a dark, wet night. I had
+hung a mess tin on a nail to catch the water that dripped through, partly
+to keep it off my head, also to provide water for an easy shave in the
+morning.</p>
+
+<p>A strafe began. The night was illuminated by hundreds of vivid
+flashes, and shells of all kinds burst about us. The dug-out shook with
+the concussions. Trench mortars, rifle grenades, and machine-gun fire
+contributed to the din.</p>
+
+<p>Whale, who never had the wind up, was shifting his position and
+turning from one side to the other.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" I asked my chum. "Can't you sleep?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sleep! 'Ow the 'ell can a bloke sleep with that infernal <i>drip-drip-drip</i>
+goin' on?"&mdash;<i>P. T. Hughes (late 21st London Regiment, 47th Division),
+12 Shalimar Gardens, Acton, W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"A Blinkin' Vanity Box"</h3>
+
+<p>After the terrific upheaval of June 7, 1917, my brigade (the 111th)
+held the line beyond Wytschaete Ridge for some weeks. While my
+company was in support one day my corporal and I managed to scrounge
+into a pill-box away from the awful mud. We could not escape the
+water because the explosion of the mines on June 7 had cracked the
+foundation of our retreat and water was nearly two feet deep on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>Just before dusk on this rainy July evening I was shaving before a
+metal mirror in the top bunk in the pill-box, while the corporal washed
+in a mess-tin in the bunk below. Just then Jerry started a severe strafe
+and a much-muddied runner of the 13th Royal Fusiliers appeared in the
+unscreened doorway.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in and shelter, old man," I said. So he stepped on to an
+ammunition box that just failed to keep his feet clear of the water.</p>
+
+<p>He had watched our ablutions in silence for a minute or so, when a shell
+burst almost in the doorway and flung him into the water below our bunks,
+where he sat with his right arm red and rent, sagging at his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Call this a shelter?" he said. "Blimey, it's a blinkin' vanity box!"&mdash;<i>Sgt.,
+10th R.F., East Sheen, S.W.14.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Playing at Statues</h3>
+
+<p>We were making our way to a detached post just on the left of
+Vimy, and Jerry was sending up Verey lights as we were going
+along. Every time one went up we halted, and kept quite still in case
+we should be
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>It was funny
+indeed to see how
+some of the men
+halted when a
+light went up.
+Some had one foot
+down and one
+raised, and others
+were in a crouching
+position. "My
+missus orta see
+me nah playing
+at blinkin'
+statchoos," said
+one old Cockney.&mdash;<i>T.
+Kelly (late
+17th London Regt.),
+43 Ocean Street,
+Stepney, E.1.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 443px;">
+<img src="images/i080.jpg" width="443" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Playin' at statchoos."</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Bo Peep&mdash;1915 Version</h3>
+
+<p>In 1915 at Fricourt "Copper" Kingsland of our regiment, the 7th
+Royal West Surreys, was on sentry on the fire-step in the front line.
+At this period of the war steel helmets were not in use. Our cap badge
+was in the form of a lamb.</p>
+
+<p>A Fritz sniper registered a hit through Kingsland's hat, cutting the tail
+portion of the lamb away. After he had pulled himself together "Copper"
+surveyed his cap badge and remarked: "On the larst kit inspection
+I reported to the sargint that yer was lorst, and nah I shall 'ave ter tell
+'im that when Bo Peep fahnd yer, yer wagged yer bloomin' tail off in
+gratitood."&mdash;<i>"Spot," Haifu, Farley Road, Selsdon, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jerry's Dip in the Fat</h3>
+
+<p>We were out at rest in an open field on the Somme front when one
+morning, about 5 a.m., our cook, Alf, of Battersea, was preparing
+the company's breakfast. There was bacon, but no bread. I was
+standing beside the cooker soaking one of my biscuits in the fat.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a Jerry airman dived down towards the cooker, firing his
+machine gun. I got under the cooker, Alf fell over the side of it, striking
+his head on the ground. I thought he was hit. But he sat up, rubbing
+his head and looking up at Jerry, who was then flying away.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ere!" he shouted, "next time yer wants a dip in the fat, don't
+be so rough."&mdash;<i>H. A. Redford (late 24th London Regt.), 31 Charrington
+Street, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Carried Unanimously</h3>
+
+<p>Some recently captured trenches had to be cleared of the enemy,
+and in the company told off for the job was a Cockney youth. Proceeding
+along the trench with a Mills bomb in his hand, he came upon
+a number of the enemy hiding in a dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>"Nah then," he shouted, holding up the bomb in readiness to throw
+it if necessary, "all them as votes for coming along wiv me 'old up your
+'ands."</p>
+
+<p>All hands were held up, with the cry "Kamerad! Kamerad!" Upon
+which the Cockney shouted, "Look, mates, it's carried unanermously."&mdash;<i>H.
+Morgan (late 4th Telegraph Construction Co., R.E. Signals), 26 Ranelagh
+Road, Wembley.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Very Hot Bath</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat of the remnants of the Fifth Army in March
+1918 two of the six-inch howitzers of the Honourable Artillery
+Company were in action in some deserted horse-lines outside Péronne.</p>
+
+<p>During a lull Gunner A&mdash;&mdash;, a Londoner, like the rest of us, went
+"scrounging" in some nearby cottages recently abandoned by their
+inhabitants. He reappeared carrying a large zinc bath, and after filling
+it with water from the horse pond he made a huge bonfire with broken
+tables and other furniture, and set the bath on the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Just when the water had been heated Fritz opened out with 5·9's. As
+we were not firing just then we all took cover, with the exception of
+Gunner A&mdash;&mdash;, who calmly set his bath of hot water down by one of the
+guns, undressed, and got into the bath. A minute later a large piece of
+shell also entered the bath, passed through the bottom of it and into the
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>The gunner watched the precious water running out, then he slowly
+rose and, beginning to dress, remarked, "Very well, Fritz, have it your
+way. I may not be godly, but I <i>did</i> want to be clean."&mdash;<i>Edward Boaden
+(late H.A.C., 309 Siege Battery), 17 Connaught Gardens, Muswell Hill,
+N.10.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In Lieu of &mdash;&mdash;</h3>
+
+<p>During a winter's night on the Somme a party of us were drawing
+rations just behind the front line trenches. A Cockney chum of mine
+was disgusted to hear the Q.M. say he was issuing hot soup in lieu of rum.</p>
+
+<p>"Coo! What next?" he grumbled. "Soup in lieu of rum, biscuits
+in lieu of bread, jam in lieu&mdash;&mdash;" While he spoke Jerry sent over two
+whizz-bangs which scattered us and the rations and inflicted several
+casualties.</p>
+
+<p>My chum was hit badly. As he was being carried past the Q.M. he
+smiled and said, "Someone will have to be in lieu of me now, Quarter!"&mdash;<i>T.
+Allen (late Plymouth Battn., R.N.D.), 21 Sydney Street, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Putting the Hatt on It</h3>
+
+<p>Two brothers named Hatt were serving together in France. The
+elder was always saying that he would never be hit, as the Germans,
+not being able to spell his name correctly, could not put it on any of their
+shells or bullets. (It was a common saying among the soldiers, of course,
+that a shell or bullet which hit a man had the victim's name on it.)</p>
+
+<p>The younger brother was taken prisoner, and two days later the elder
+brother was shot through the finger. Turning to his mates he exclaimed,
+"Blimey, me brother's been an' split on me."&mdash;<i>W. J. Bowes, 224 Devon's
+Road, Bow, E.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Tangible Evidence</h3>
+
+<p>We were at Levantie in 1915, just before the Battle of Loos, and the
+rumour was about that the Germans were running short of
+ammunition. It was very quiet in our sector, as we were opposite the
+Saxons, and we strolled about at ease.</p>
+
+<p>A party of us was told off to get water just behind the trenches in an
+old farmhouse which had a pump. We filled all the water bottles and rum
+jars and then had a look round the ruins to see what we could scrounge,
+when suddenly Fritz sent a shell over. It hit the wall and sent bricks
+flying all over the place. One of the bricks hit my mate on the head and
+knocked him out. When we had revived him he looked up and said,
+"Strewth, it's right they ain't got no 'ammo.'; they're slinging bricks.
+It shows yer we've got 'em all beat to a frazzle, don't it?"&mdash;<i>J. Delderfield,
+54 Hampden Street, Paddington.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>What the Cornwalls' Motto Meant</h3>
+
+<p>A platoon of my regiment, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry,
+was engaged in carrying screens to a point about 200 yards behind
+the front line. The screens were to be set up to shield a road from
+German observation balloons, and they were made of brushwood bound
+together with wire. They were rolled up for convenience of transport,
+and when rolled they looked like big bundles of pea-sticks about ten
+feet long. They were very heavy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Three men were told off to carry each screen. One of the parties of
+three was composed of two Cornishmen (who happened to be at the ends
+of the screen) and their Cockney pal (in the middle), the screen being
+carried on their shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>When they had nearly reached the point in the communication trench
+where it was to be dumped, Jerry sent over a salvo of whizz-bangs.
+His range was good, and consequently the carrying party momentarily
+became disorganised. The Cornishman at the front end of the screen
+dashed towards the front line, whilst the man at the other end made a
+hurried move backwards.</p>
+
+<p>This left the Cockney with the whole of the weight of the screen on
+his shoulder. The excitement was over in a few seconds and the Cornishmen
+returned to find the Cockney lying on the duckboards, where he
+had subsided under the weight of his burden, trying to get up. He
+stopped struggling when he saw them and said very bitterly, "Yus:
+One and All's yer blinkin' motter; <i>one</i> under the blinkin' screen and <i>all</i>
+the rest 'op it."</p>
+
+<p>"One and All," I should mention, is the Cornwalls' motto.&mdash;<i>"Cornwall,"
+Greenford, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Atlas&mdash;On the Somme</h3>
+
+<p>During the Somme offensive we were holding the line at Delville
+Wood, and a Cockney corporal fresh from England came to our
+company.</p>
+
+<p>He was told to take charge of a very advanced post, and our company
+officer gave him all important instructions as to bomb stores, ammunition,
+rifle grenades, emergency rations, S O S rockets, gas, and all the
+other numerous and important orders for an advanced post.</p>
+
+<p>After the officer asked him if he understood it all, he said, "Blimey,
+sir, 'as 'Aig gone on leave?"&mdash;<i>Ex-Sergt. Geary, D.C.M. (East Surrey
+Regt.), 57 Longley Road, Tooting.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Putting the Lid on It</h3>
+
+<p>On the Struma Front, Salonika, in September 1916, I was detailed
+to take a party of Bulgar prisoners behind the lines.</p>
+
+<p>Two Bulgars, one of them a huge, bald-headed man, were carrying a
+stretcher in which was reposing "Ginger" Hart, of Deptford, who was
+shot through the leg.</p>
+
+<p>The white bursts of shrapnel continued in our vicinity as we proceeded.
+One shell burst immediately in front of us, and we halted.</p>
+
+<p>It was at this juncture that I saw "Ginger" leave his stretcher and hop
+away on one leg. Having picked up a tin hat, he hopped back to the big
+Bulgar prisoner and put the hat on his bald head, saying, "Abaht time
+we put the lid on the sooit puddin', corp: that's the fifth shot they've
+fired at that target."&mdash;<i>G. Findlay, M.M. (late 81st Infantry Brigade,
+27th Division), 3a Effie Place, Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Taffy was a&mdash;German!</h3>
+
+<p>In the confused fighting round Gueudecourt in 1916 a machine-gun
+section occupied a position in a maze of trenches, some of which led
+towards the German line. The divisional pioneer battalion was the
+Monmouthshire Regiment, all of whose men were Welsh and for the
+most part spoke Welsh.</p>
+
+<p>A ration party of the M.G.C. had gone back one night and had been
+absent some time when two members rushed into the position, gasping:
+"We took the wrong turning! Walked into Jerry's line! They've
+got Smiffy&mdash;and the rations!"</p>
+
+<p>We had hardly got over the shock of this news when Smiffy came
+staggering up, dragging the rations and mopping a bleeding face, at
+the same time cursing the rest of the ration party.</p>
+
+<p>"Luv us, Smiffy, how did you get away? We thought the Germans
+had got you for sure!"</p>
+
+<p>"Germans," gasped Smiffy. "GERMANS! <i>I thought they was the
+Monmouths!</i>"&mdash;<i>S. W. Baxter (late 86th M.G.C.), 110 Bishopsgate, E.C.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Tea-time Story</h3>
+
+<p>At the Battle of Cambrai in November 1917 my regiment, the
+London Irish Rifles, was undergoing a terrific bombardment in
+Bourlon Wood.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans had been plastering us for about 12 hours with "all
+calibres," to say nothing of continual gassing.</p>
+
+<p>As we had been wearing gas-masks almost all day without respite,
+we were nearly "all in" as the afternoon wore on.</p>
+
+<p>I was attending to a man with a smashed foot, when I felt a touch
+on my shoulder, and, blinking up through my sweat-covered mask, I
+saw our mess-orderly with his hand over a mess-tin (to keep the gas
+out, as he said).</p>
+
+<p>I could hardly believe my eyes, but when I heard him say, "Tea
+is ready, Sarg. Blimey, what a strafe!" I lifted my mask and drank
+deeply.</p>
+
+<p>From that day till this it has been a wonder to me how he made it.&mdash;<i>S.
+Gibbons,130 Buckhold Road, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Tip to a Prisoner</h3>
+
+<p>The object of our raiding party near Gouzeaucourt in 1917 was to
+obtain a prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>One plucky, but very much undersized, German machine gunner blazed
+away at us until actually pounced upon. A Cockney who was well
+among the leaders jumped down beside him, and heaving him up said:</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, old mate, you're too blinkin' good for this side!"&mdash;and
+then, noticing his lack of inches, "and if yer wants ter make the 'old
+man' larf tell him you're a 'Prussian Guard.'"&mdash;<i>Walter S. Johnson (late
+R.W.F.), 29 Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cockney Logic</h3>
+
+<p>Early in the war aeroplanes were not so common as they were
+later on, and trench "strafing" from the air was practically unheard
+of. One day two privates of the Middlesex Regiment were engaged in
+clearing a section of front line trench near the La Bassée road when a
+German plane came along and sprayed the trenches with machine-gun
+bullets.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i085.jpg" width="600" height="448" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">...and they both went on digging</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of the men (both were typical Cockneys) looked up from his
+digging and said: "Strike, there's a blinkin' aeroplane."</p>
+
+<p>The other took no notice but went on digging.</p>
+
+<p>By-and-by the machine came back, still firing, whereupon the
+speaker again looked up, spat, and said: "Blimey, there's annuver
+of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>"No, 'tain't," was the reply, "it's the same blighter again."</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," said the first man, "so 'tis." And both went on digging.&mdash;<i>W.
+P. (late Middlesex Regt. and R.A.F.), Bucks.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Penalty, Ref!"</h3>
+
+<p>It was a warm corner on the Givenchy front, with whizz-bangs dealing
+out death and destruction. But it was necessary that communication
+be maintained between the various H.Q.'s, and in this particular sector
+"Alf," from Bow, and myself were detailed to keep the "lines" intact.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a whizz-bang burst above us as we were repairing some
+shattered lines. We ducked instinctively, but friend "Alf" caught a bit
+of the shell and was thrown to the bottom of the slushy trench.</p>
+
+<p>Being a football enthusiast he at once raised his arm in appeal, and,
+with the spirit that wins wars, shouted, "Penalty, ref!"</p>
+
+<p>He was dazed, but unhurt.&mdash;<i>W. G. Harris (late Sergt., R.E.), 34
+Denmark Street, Watford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Appointment with his Medical Adviser</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of the Ancre in November 1916 the 51st
+Division were going over the top on our left while our battalion
+kept Jerry engaged with a raid. Every inch of the rain-sodden landscape
+seemed to be heaving beneath the combined barrages of the
+opposing forces.</p>
+
+<p>My sergeant, a D.C.M., had been lying in the trench badly wounded
+for some hours waiting for things to ease up before he could be got
+down to the dressing-station. Presently our raiding party returned
+with six prisoners, among them an insignificant-looking German officer
+(who, waving a map about, and jabbering wildly, seemed to be blaming
+his capture to the faulty tactics of his High Command).</p>
+
+<p>The wounded sergeant watched these antics for a while with a grin,
+driving the pain-bred puckers from his face, and then called out, "Oi,
+'Indenburg! Never mind abaht ye map o' London; wot time does
+this 'ere war end, 'cos I've got an appointment wiv my medical adviser!"</p>
+
+<p>Dear, brave old chap. His appointment was never kept.&mdash;<i>S. T.
+(late 37th Div.), Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>One Up, and Two to Go</h3>
+
+<p>On the Struma front in 1917 a bombing plane was being put back
+into its hangar. Suddenly there was a terrific bang. A dozen
+of us ran up to see what had happened, but a Cockney voice from inside
+the hangar cried out, "Don't come in. There's two more bombs to
+go off, and I can't find 'em."&mdash;<i>A. Dickinson, Brixton.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>On the Parados</h3>
+
+<p>Dawn of a very hot day in September 1916 on the Balkan front.
+We were in the enemy trenches at "Machine Gun Hill," a position
+hitherto occupied by the Prussian Guards, who were there to encourage
+the Bulgars.</p>
+
+<p>We had taken the position the previous evening with very little loss.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+As the day broke we discovered that we were enfiladed on all sides and
+overlooked by the Prussians not more than forty yards away. It was
+impossible to evacuate wounded and prisoners or for reserves to approach
+with food, water, and ammunition. The enemy counter-attacked in
+overwhelming numbers; shells rained on us; our own were falling short;
+it was suicide to show one's head. Towards noon, casualties lying
+about. The sun merciless. Survivors thoroughly exhausted. Up
+jumped a Cockney bomber. "Blimey, I can't stick this," and perched
+himself on the parados. "I can see 'em; chuck some 'Mills' up."
+And as fast as they were handed to him he pitched bombs into the
+Prussians' midst, creating havoc. He lasted about three minutes,
+then fell, riddled with bullets. He had stemmed the tide.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards we retired. His pluck was never recorded or
+recognised, but his feat will never be forgotten by at least one of the
+few who got through.&mdash;<i>George McCann, 50 Guilford Street, London, W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Croquet</h3>
+
+<p>We were occupying a support line, early in 1918, and a party of us
+was detailed to repair the barbed wire during the night.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney found himself holding a stake while a Cornish comrade
+drove it home with a mallet.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a shell exploded a few yards from the pair and both were
+very badly wounded.</p>
+
+<p>When the Cockney recovered consciousness he was heard to remark
+to his comrade in misfortune, "Blimey, yer wants to be more careful
+wiv that there mallet; yer nearly 'it my 'and wiv it when that there
+firework exploded."&mdash;<i>A. A. Homer, 16 Grove Place, Enfield Wash,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sausages and Mashed</h3>
+
+<p>At the end of 1914 we were in the trenches in the Ypres Salient. As
+we were only about 30 yards from the enemy lines, bombing went
+on all day. The German bombs, shaped like a long sausage, could be
+seen coming through the air. Our sentries, on the look-out for these,
+would shout: "Sausage right!" or "Sausage left!" as they came over.</p>
+
+<p>One night we were strengthened by reinforcements, including several
+Cockneys. The next morning one of our sentries saw a bomb coming
+over and shouted "Sausage right!" There followed an explosion which
+smothered two of our new comrades in mud and shreds of sandbag. One
+of the two got up, with sackcloth twisted all round his neck and pack.
+"'Ere, Bill, wot was that?" he asked one of our men.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, one of those sausages," Bill replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme," said the new man, as he freed himself from the sacking,
+"I don't mind the sausages, but," he added as he wiped the mud from
+his eyes and face, "I don't like the mash."&mdash;<i>H. Millard (late East
+Surrey Regt.), 3 Nevill Road, Stoke Newington, N.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Cheery to the End</h3>
+
+<p>We were lining up to go over in the Battle of Arras on April 9, 1917.
+Ours being a Lancashire regiment, there were only two of us Cockneys
+in our platoon. We were standing easy, waiting for the rum issue,
+and Tom, my pal (we both came from Stratford), came over to me
+singing "Let's all go down the Strand...."</p>
+
+<p>Most of the Lancashire lads were looking a bit glum, but it cheered
+them up, and they all began to sing. I was feeling a bit gloomy myself,
+and Tom, seeing this, said: "What's the matter with you, Jimmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I'll see you in London Hospital next week, Tom," I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, shut up," says he. "If Jerry sends one over and it's got our
+names on it, why worry? And if we get a bad Blighty one, then I
+hopes they buries us at Manor Park. Here, Jim, tie this disc round
+me neck."</p>
+
+<p>Then the rum came up, and he started them singing, "And another
+little drink wouldn't do us any harm!"</p>
+
+<p>Off we went&mdash;and only ten minutes later he was gone. He was buried
+at Blany, Arras, not Manor Park.&mdash;<i>J. Pugh (late 1st King's Own Royal
+Lancasters), 27 Lizban Street, Blackheath, S.E.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Souvenirs First</h3>
+
+<p>The following incident took place during the Battle of Loos, September
+1915. I had been to Battalion H.Q. with a message and whilst
+awaiting a reply stood with others on "Harrow Road" watching our
+wounded go by.</p>
+
+<p>We frequently recognised wounded pals on the stretchers and inquired
+as to the nature of their wounds. The usual form of inquiry was:
+"Hullo &mdash;&mdash; what have you got?" In reply to this query one wounded
+man of our battalion, ignoring his wound as being of lesser importance,
+proudly answered: "Two Jerry helmets and an Iron Cross!"&mdash;<i>A. H.
+Bell (late Private, 15th London Regt., T.F.), 31 Raeburn Avenue, Surbiton,
+Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Seven Shies a Tanner!</h3>
+
+<p>It was near Hebuterne and very early in the morning of July 1, 1916. A
+terrific bombardment by both the Germans and ourselves was in progress
+just prior to the launching of our Somme offensive. We were in
+assembly trenches waiting for the dread zero hour.</p>
+
+<p>Away on our right some German guns were letting us have it pretty
+hot, and in consequence the "troops" were not feeling in the best of
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p>With us was a very popular Cockney corporal. He took his tin hat
+from off his head when the tension was high and, banging on it with his
+bayonet, cried: "Roll up, me lucky lads! Seven shies a tanner! Who'll
+'ave a go!" That bit of nonsense relieved the tension and enabled us to
+pull ourselves together.&mdash;<i>A. V. B. (late 9th Londons), Guildford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bill Hawkins Fights Them All</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst on the Ypres front during the fighting in 1918 we made an
+early-morning attack across the railway line in front of Dickebusch.
+After going about fifty yards across No Man's Land my Cockney pal
+(Bill Hawkins, from Stepney), who was running beside me, got a slight
+wound in the arm, and before he had gone another two yards he got
+another wound in the left leg.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he stopped, lifted his uninjured arm at the Germans and
+shouted, "Blimey, wot yer all firing at me for? Am I the only blinkin'
+man in this war?"&mdash;<i>S. Stevens (late Middlesex Regt., 2nd Battn.), 7
+Blenheim Street, Chelsea, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Hide and Seek with Jerry</h3>
+
+<p>To get information before the Somme offensive, the new idea of
+making daylight raids on the German trenches was adopted. It fell
+to our battalion to make the first big raid.</p>
+
+<p>Our objective was the "brick-fields" at Beaurains, near Arras, and our
+orders were to take as many prisoners as possible, hold the trench for
+half an hour, do as much damage as we could, and then return. A covering
+barrage was put down, and over we went, one hundred strong.</p>
+
+<p>We got into Jerry's trench all right, but, owing to the many dug-outs
+and tunnels, we could only find a few Germans, and these, having no time
+to bolt underground, got out of the trench and ran to take cover behind
+the kilns and brick-stacks.</p>
+
+<p>And then the fun began. While the main party of us got to work in
+the trench, a few made after the men who had run into the brick-fields,
+and it was a case of hide and seek, round and round and in and out of
+the kilns and brick-stacks.</p>
+
+<p>Despite the seriousness of the situation, one chap, a Cockney, entered
+so thoroughly into the spirit of the thing that when, after a lengthy chase,
+he at last clapped a German on the shoulder, he shouted, "You're 'e!"&mdash;<i>E.
+W. Fellows, M.M. (late 6th D.C.L.I.), 35 Dunlace Road, Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Too Much for his Imagination</h3>
+
+<p>In the platoon of cyclists I was posted to on the outbreak of war
+was a Cockney&mdash;a "Charlie Chaplin" without the funny feet. If there
+was a funny side to a thing, he saw it.</p>
+
+<p>One day, on the advance, just before the battle of the Marne, our
+platoon was acting as part of the left flank guard when a number of enemy
+cavalry were seen advancing over a ridge, some distance away. We were
+ordered to dismount and extend. We numbered about sixteen, so our
+line was not a long one.</p>
+
+<p>A prominent object was pointed out to us, judged at about
+150 yards away, and orders were given not to fire until the enemy
+reached that spot.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>We could see that we were greatly outnumbered, and having to wait
+for them to reach that spot seemed to double the suspense. Our leader
+was giving commands one second and talking like a father the next.
+He said, "Keep cool; each take a target; show them you are British.
+You have as good a chance as they, and although they are superior in
+numbers they have no other superior quality. I want you just to
+imagine that you are on the range again, firing for your pay." Then
+our Cockney Charlie chimed in with: "Yes, but we ain't got no
+bloomin' markers."&mdash;<i>S. Leggs (late Rifle Brigade and Cyclists), 33 New
+Road, Grays, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Currants" for Bunn</h3>
+
+<p>After we had taken part in the advance on the Somme in August
+1916 my battalion was ordered to rest at Bazentin.</p>
+
+<p>We had only been there a day or so when we were ordered to relieve
+the Tyneside Scottish who were badly knocked about. Hardly had we
+reached the front lines, when a little Cockney named Bunn (we never
+knew how he carried his pack, he was so small) got hit. We called for
+stretcher-bearers.</p>
+
+<p>When they put him on the stretcher and were carrying him down the
+line, a doctor asked him his name. The Cockney looked up with a smile
+and answered: "Bunn, sir, and the blighters have put some currants
+into me this time." This gallant Cockney died afterwards.&mdash;<i>J. E. Cully
+(late 13th King's Royal Rifles), 76 Milkwood Road, S.E.24.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Driver to his Horse</h3>
+
+<p>The artillery driver's affection for his own particular pair of horses
+is well known. Our battery, in a particularly unhealthy spot in front
+of Zillebeke, in the Salient, had run out of ammunition, and the terrible
+state of the ground thereabout in the autumn of 1917 necessitated the
+use of pack-horses to "deliver the goods," and even then it was accomplished
+with difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>A little Cockney driver with a pair named Polly and Bill had loaded up
+and was struggling through the mire. Three times Bill had dragged him
+on to his knees and up to his waist in the slush when a big Fritz shell
+dropped uncomfortably near. Polly, with a mighty rear, threw the
+Cockney on to his back and, descending, struck him with a hoof.</p>
+
+<p>Fed up to the teeth and desperate, he struggled to his feet, covered
+from head to feet in slime, and, clenching his fist, struck at the trembling
+and frightened horse, unloading a brief but very vivid description of
+its pedigree and probable future.</p>
+
+<p>Then, cooling off, he began to pacify the mare, apologised, and pardoned
+her vice by saying, "Never mind, ole gal&mdash;I didn't mean ter bash
+yer! I fought the uvver one was hot stuff, but, strike me pink, you
+don't seem <i>'ooman</i>!"&mdash;<i>G. Newell (ex-Sergt., R.F.A.), 22 Queen Road, St.
+Albans.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Two Kinds of "Shorts"</h3>
+
+<p>August 1916, Delville Wood. We had been brought specially
+from rest camp to take the remainder of the wood, which was being
+stoutly contested by the Germans and was holding up our advance.
+The usual barrage, and over we went, and were met by the Germans
+standing on top of their trenches. A fierce bombing fight began. The
+scrap lasted a long time, but at last we charged and captured the trench.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i091.jpg" width="600" height="536" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Yus, yer needn't stare&mdash;I'm real."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of our men, quite a small Cockney, captured a German about twice
+his own size. The German was so surprised at being captured by a person
+so insignificant looking that he stood and stared. Our Cockney, seeing
+his amazement, said: "Yus, yer needn't stare, I'm real, and wot's more,
+I got a good mind ter punch yer under the blinkin' ear fer spoiling me
+rest!"&mdash;<i>F. M. Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Batt. D.C.L.I), 33
+Dunlace Road, Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mespot&mdash;On 99 Years' Lease</h3>
+
+<p>I was in Mesopotamia from 1916 till 1920, and after the Armistice
+was signed there was still considerable trouble with the Arabs.</p>
+
+<p>In the summer of 1919 I, with a party of 23 other R.A.S.C. men, was
+surrounded by the Arabs at an outpost that was like a small fort. We
+had taken up supplies for troops stationed there. There were about 100
+Indian soldiers, and a few British N.C.O.'s in charge.</p>
+
+<p>It was no use "running the gauntlet." We were on a hill and kept the
+Arabs at bay all day, also the next night.</p>
+
+<p>The next day all was quiet again, but in the afternoon an Arab rode
+into the camp on horseback with a message, which he gave to the first
+Tommy he saw. It happened to be one of our fellows, a proper Cockney.
+He read the message&mdash;written in English&mdash;requesting us to surrender.</p>
+
+<p>Our Cockney pal said a few kind words to the Arab, and decided to
+send a message back.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote this on the back of the paper: "Sorry, Mr. Shake. We
+have only just taken the place, and we have got it on 99 years' lease.
+Yours faithfully, Old Bill and Co., Ltd., London."&mdash;<i>W. Thurgood (late
+R.A.S.C., M.T.), 46 Maldon Road, Southend-on-Sea, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Fro Something at Them!"</h3>
+
+<p>There was a certain divisional commander in France who enjoyed
+a popularity that was almost unique. He was quite imperturbable,
+whatever the situation.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, he had an impediment in his speech, and when first one
+met him he was difficult to understand. But heaven help anyone who
+asked him to repeat anything. A light would come into his eye, and he
+would seize hold of his victim by the shoulder-strap and heave and tug
+till it came off.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll understand me," he would say, "when I tell you your shoulder-strap
+is undone!"</p>
+
+<p>The Division he commanded had just put up a wonderful fight just
+south of Arras in the March '18 show, and, having suffered very heavy
+casualties, were taken out of the line and put into a cushy front next door
+to the Portuguese.</p>
+
+<p>The morning after they took over the Germans launched a heavy
+attack on the Portuguese, who withdrew somewhat hurriedly, so that the
+whole flank of the British division was open.</p>
+
+<p>The general was sitting eating his breakfast&mdash;he had been roused at
+six by the bombardment&mdash;when an excited orderly came into the room
+and reported that the Germans had got right in behind the Division
+and were now actually in the garden of the general's château.</p>
+
+<p>The general finished drinking his cup of coffee, the orderly still standing
+to attention, waiting instructions.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you had better 'fro' something at them&mdash;or shoo them away,"
+said the general.&mdash;<i>F. A. P., Cavalry Club, Piccadilly, W.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Missed his Mouth-organ</h3>
+
+<p>During the Battle of the Somme our trench-mortar battery was
+going back after a few days' rest. It was very dark and raining.
+As we neared our destination it appeared that Jerry and our chaps were
+having a real argument.</p>
+
+<p>We were going up a road called "Queen's Hollow." Jerry was enfilading
+us on both sides, and a rare bombing fight was going on at the farther
+end of the Hollow&mdash;seventy or a hundred yards in front of us. We were
+expecting to feel the smack of a bullet any moment, and there was a
+terrible screeching and bursting of shells, with a few "Minnies" thrown
+in. We were in a fine pickle, and I had just about had enough when my
+pal (a lad from "The Smoke") nearly put me on my back by stopping
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like this, Bomb," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"What's wrong with you? Get on," I replied, "or we'll all be
+blown sky high."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right," he said, "but I wish I'd brought me mouf orgin. I
+could then have livened fings up a bit."&mdash;<i>"Bombardier" (R.A.), late
+T.M.B., 7th Division.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Water-cooled</h3>
+
+<p>There must be at least six men still alive who remember a certain
+affair at Kemmel. During the latter part of April 1918 our machine
+gunners had been having a bad time, and one old Cockney sergeant
+found himself and his party isolated miles in front of our line.</p>
+
+<p>The cool way in which he gave orders, as he told his men to make
+their way back&mdash;lying down for a bit, then making a run for another
+shelter&mdash;would have been humorous if conditions had not been so
+terrifying.</p>
+
+<p>He himself kept his gun working to protect their retreat, and when
+he saw they had reached a place of safety he picked up his gun and
+rejoined them unhurt.</p>
+
+<p>One of his men, describing the action afterwards, said, "Carried
+his gun three miles&mdash;wouldn't part with it&mdash;and the first thing he did
+when he was able to settle down quietly was to start cleaning the blessed
+thing!"&mdash;<i>H. R. Tanner, "Romsdal," Newton Ferrers, S. Devon.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Top-hatted Piper of Mons</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat from Mons it was a case of "going while the
+going was good" until called upon to make a stand to harass the
+enemy's advance.</p>
+
+<p>After the stand at Le Cateau, bad and blistered feet caused many to
+stop by the wayside. Among these, in passing with my little squad,
+I noticed a piper belonging to a Scottish regiment sitting with his blistered
+feet exposed and his pipes lying beside him. Staff officers were continually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+riding back and urging the parties of stragglers to make an
+effort to push on before they were overtaken.</p>
+
+<p>In the late afternoon of this same day, having myself come up with
+my unit, I was resting on the roadside when I heard the skirl of bagpipes.
+Before long there came into sight, marching with a fair swing,
+too, as motley a throng as one ever saw in the King's uniform. Headed
+by a staff officer were about 150 men of all regiments with that same
+piper, hatless and with one stocking, in front.</p>
+
+<p>Beside him was a Cockney of the Middlesex Regiment, with a silk
+hat on his head, whose cheeks threatened to burst as he churned out
+the strains of "Alexander's Rag-time Band" on the bagpipes. Being
+a bit of a piper himself, he was giving "Jock" a lift and was incidentally
+the means of fetching this little band away from the clutches of the
+enemy.&mdash;<i>"Buster" Brown (late Bedfordshire Regt.), Hertford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Two Heads and a Bullet</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1916 ten of us were going up with rations&mdash;chiefly bread
+and water. In one part of the trench there were no duckboards
+and the vile mud was thigh-deep.</p>
+
+<p>Here we abandoned the trench and stumbled along, tripping over
+barbed wire and falling headlong into shell-holes half-full of icy
+water.</p>
+
+<p>A German sniper was at work. Suddenly a bullet pinged midway
+between the last two of the party.</p>
+
+<p>"Hear that?" said No. 9. "Right behind my neck!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied No. 10, "right in front of my bloomin' nose!"&mdash;<i>C.
+A. Davies (late 23rd R. Fusiliers), 85 Saxton Street, Gillingham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Spoiling the Story</h3>
+
+<p>We were billeted in the upper room of a corner house north of
+Albert, and were listening to "Spoofer's" memories of days
+"dahn Walworf way."</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," he said, "I ses to the gal, 'Two doorsteps an' a bloater.'"</p>
+
+<p>At that moment a "coal-box" caught the corner of the house, bringing
+down the angle of the wall and three-parts of the floor on which we
+had squatted.</p>
+
+<p>Except for bruises, none of us was injured, and when the dust subsided
+we saw "Spoofer" looking down at us from a bit of the flooring
+that remained intact.</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," he continued, as though nothing had happened, "as I was
+saying, I'd just called fer the bloater...."</p>
+
+<p>Came another "coal-box," which shook down the remainder of the
+floor and with it "Spoofer."</p>
+
+<p>Struggling to his hands and knees, he said, "Blimey, the blinkin'
+bloater's cold nah."&mdash;<i>F. Lates, 62 St. Ervan's Road, North Kensington.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Afraid of Dogs</h3>
+
+<p>Towards the end of October 1918 I was out on patrol in front of
+Tournai on a dark, windy night. I had a Cockney private with me,
+and we were some distance from our lines when we heard a dog barking.
+All at once, before I could stop him, the Cockney whistled it.</p>
+
+<p>I threw the Cockney down and dropped myself. A German Verey
+light went up&mdash;followed by a hail of machine-gun bullets in our direction.
+As the light spread out, we saw the dog fastened to a German machine-gun!
+We lay very still, and presently, when things had quietened down,
+we slid cautiously backwards until it was safe to get up.</p>
+
+<p>All the Cockney said was, "Crikey, corp, I had the wind up. A
+blinkin' good job that there dawg was chained up. Why? 'Cause 'e
+might 'ave bitten us. I allus was afeard o' dawgs."&mdash;<i>J. Milsun (late
+1/5th Battn., The King's Own 55th Div.), 31 Collingwood Road, Lexden,
+Colchester.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Song of Battle</h3>
+
+<p>At the first Gaza battle we had to advance 1,700 yards across a
+plain in full view of the Turks, who hurled a terrific barrage at us.
+We were in artillery formation, and we marched up until within rifle
+range. With machine guns and artillery the Turks were depleting our
+ranks, so that less than half of us were still marching on at 500 yards
+range.</p>
+
+<p>In my section was the Cockney "funny man" of the company.
+When things were bad, and we were all wondering how long we would
+survive, he began singing lustily a song which someone had sung at our
+last concert party behind the lines, the refrain of which was "I've
+never heard of anybody dying from kissing, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>Before he had started on the second line nearly everyone was singing
+with him, and men were killed singing that song. To the remainder
+of us it acted like a tonic.</p>
+
+<p>Good old Jack, when he was wounded later he must have been in
+terrible pain, yet he joked so that at first we would not believe he was
+seriously hit. He shouted, "Where is 'e?&mdash;let me get at 'im."&mdash;<i>J. T.
+Jones (late 54th Division), 37 Whittaker Road, East Ham, E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Stalls at "Richthofen's Circus"</h3>
+
+<p>A New Zealander was piloting an old F.E. 2B (pusher) 'plane
+up and down over the lines, observing for the artillery, when he got
+caught by "Richthofen's Circus."</p>
+
+<p>The petrol tank behind the pilot's seat was set on fire and burning
+oil poured past him into the observer's cockpit ahead and the clothes
+of both men started to sizzle.</p>
+
+<p>They were indeed in a warm situation, their one hope being to dive
+into Zillebeke Lake, which the New Zealander noticed below. By the
+time they splashed into the water machine and men were in flames;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+and, moreover, when they came up the surface surrounding them was
+aflame with the burning oil.</p>
+
+<p>Treading water desperately and ridding themselves of their heavy
+sodden flying coats, they made a last bid for life by swimming under
+water, that flaming water, and at last, half-dead, reached the bank.</p>
+
+<p>There a strong arm gripped the New Zealander by the scruff of the
+neck and he was hauled to safety, dimly aware of a hoarse voice complaining
+bitterly, "Ours is the best hid battery in this sector, the only
+unspotted battery. You <i>would</i> choose just 'ere to land, wouldn't yer,
+and give the bloomin' show away?"</p>
+
+<p>Our Cockney battery sergeant-major had, no doubt, never heard
+of Hobson or his choice.&mdash;<i>E. H. Orton, 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden
+City, Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Butter-Fingers!"</h3>
+
+<p>A Cockney infantryman of the 47th Division was on the fire-step
+on the night preceding the attack at Loos. He was huddled up
+in a ground-sheet trying to keep cheerful in the drizzle.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a British 12-in. shell passed over him, and as he heard its
+slow rumble he muttered, "Catch that one, you blighters."</p>
+
+<p>Just then it burst, and with a chuckle he added, "Oh, butter-fingers,
+yer dropped it!"&mdash;<i>Henry J. Tuck (late Lt., R.G.A.).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Getting into Hot Water</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the front line, and one evening a Battersea lad and
+myself were ordered to go and fetch tea for the company from
+the cook-house, which was in Bluff Trench. It was about a mile from
+the line down a "beautiful" duckboard track.</p>
+
+<p>With the boiling tea strapped to our backs
+in big containers, both of which leaked at the
+nozzles, we started for the line. Then Jerry
+started sniping at us. There came from the
+line a sergeant, who shouted, "Why don't
+you lads duck?" "That's right," replied
+my chum. "D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded
+to death?"&mdash;<i>H. G. Harrap (23rd London
+Regiment), 25 Renfrew Road, S.E.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i096.jpg" width="600" height="487" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded ter death?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="LULL" id="LULL">2. LULL</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>Rate of Exchange&mdash;on Berlin</h3>
+
+<p>With four Cockney comrades of the Rifle Brigade, during 1915 at
+Fleurbaix, I was indulging in a <i>quiet</i> game of nap in the front
+line.</p>
+
+<p>One man dropped out, "broke to the wide." Being an enthusiastic
+card player, he offered various articles for sale, but could find no buyers.
+At last he offered to <i>find</i> a Jerry prisoner and sell him for a franc.</p>
+
+<p>He was absent for some time, but eventually turned up with his
+hostage, and, the agreement being duly honoured, he recommenced his
+game with his fresh capital.</p>
+
+<p>All the players came through alive, their names being J. Cullison,
+F. Bones, A. White, W. Deer (the first-named playing leading part),
+and myself.&mdash;<i>F. J. Chapman (late 11th Batt. Rifle Brigade), 110 Beckton
+Road, Victoria Docks, E.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Hen Coup</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat from Mons strict orders were issued against
+looting. One day an officer, coming round a corner, discovered
+a stalwart Cockney Tommy in the act of wringing the neck of an inoffensive-looking
+chicken. The moment the Tommy caught sight of his
+officer he was heard to murmur to the chicken, "Would yer, yer brute!"
+Quite obviously, therefore, the deed had been done in self-defence.&mdash;<i>The
+Rev. T. K. Lowdell, Church of St. Augustine, Lillie Road, Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A "Baa-Lamb" in the Trenches</h3>
+
+<p>The "dug-out" was really a hole scraped in the side of a trench
+leading up to the front line and some 50 yards from it. It was
+October '16 on the Somme, after the weather had broken. The trench
+was about two feet deep in liquid mud&mdash;a delightful thoroughfare for
+runners and other unfortunate ones who had to use it.</p>
+
+<p>The officer in the dug-out heard the <i>splosh&mdash;splosh&mdash;splosh</i> ...
+of a single passenger coming up the trench. As the splosher drew abreast
+the dug-out the officer heard him declaiming to himself: "Baa! baa!
+I'm a blinkin' lamb lorst in the ruddy wilderness. Baa! baa!..."</p>
+
+<p>And when the bleating died away the <i>splosh&mdash;splosh&mdash;splosh</i> ...
+grew fainter too, as the "lamb" was lost in the night.&mdash;<i>L. W. Martinnant,
+64 Thornsbeach Road, Catford, S.E.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Coloured</h3>
+
+<p>When serving with the Artists' Rifles in France we went into the
+line to relieve the "Nelsons" of the 63rd (Royal Naval) Division.</p>
+
+<p>As I was passing one of their men, a regular "Ole Bill," who was
+seated on the fire-step, I heard him say, "Artists' Rifles, eh; I wonder
+if any of you chaps would <i>paint</i> me a plate of 'am and eggs!"&mdash;<i>R. C.
+Toogood, 43 Richmond Park Avenue, Bournemouth.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why the Fat Man Laughed</h3>
+
+<p>During the winter of 1914-15 the trenches were just like canals
+of sloppy mud, and dug-outs were always falling in. To repair
+the dug-outs pit-props were used, but they often had to be carried great
+distances up communication trenches, and were very difficult to handle.
+The most popular way to carry a prop was to rest one end on the left
+shoulder of one man and the other end on the right shoulder of the man
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion the leading man was short and fat, and the rear man
+was tall and thin. Suddenly the front man slipped and the prop fell
+down in the mud and splashed the thin man from head to foot. To add
+to his discomfort the little fat man gave a hearty laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't see anything to larf at, mate," said the mud-splashed hero,
+looking down at himself.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm larfing," said the little fat Cockney, "'cos I've just remembered
+that I tipped the recruiting sergeant a bloomin' tanner to put me name
+down fust on his list so as I'd get out here quick."&mdash;<i>A. L. Churchill
+(late Sergt., Worcs. Regt.), 6 Long Lane, Blackheath, Staffs.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Met Shackleton!</h3>
+
+<p>The troops in North Russia, in the winter of 1918-19, were equipped
+with certain additional articles of clothing designed on the same
+principles as those used on Antarctic expeditions. Among these were
+what were known as "Shackleton boots," large canvas boots with thick
+leather soles. These boots were not at all suitable for walking on hard
+snow, being very clumsy, and they were very unpopular with everyone.</p>
+
+<p>The late Sir Ernest Shackleton was sent out by the War Office to give
+advice on matters of clothing, equipment, and so on. When he arrived at
+Archangel he went up to a sentry whose beat was in front of a warehouse
+about three steps up from the road, and said to him, "Well, my man,
+what do you think of the Shackleton boot?"</p>
+
+<p>To this the sentry replied: "If I could only meet the perishing blighter
+wot invented them I'd very soon show&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Before he could complete the sentence his feet, clad in the ungainly
+boots, slipped on the frozen snow, and slithering down the steps on his
+back, he shot into Sir Ernest and the two of them completed the discussion
+on Shackleton boots rolling over in the snow!&mdash;<i>K. D., Elham,
+near Canterbury.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Domestic Scene: Scene, Béthune</h3>
+
+<p>Near the front line at Béthune in I917 was a farm which had been
+evacuated by the tenants, but there were still some cattle and other
+things on it. We were, of course, forbidden to touch them.</p>
+
+<p>One day we missed one of our fellows, a Cockney, for about two hours,
+and guessed he was on the "scrounge" somewhere or other.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i099.jpg" width="600" height="466" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... only taking the kid and the dawg for a bit of a blow."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Eventually he was seen coming down the road pushing an old-fashioned
+pram loaded with cabbages, and round his waist there was a length of
+rope, to the other end of which was tied an old cow.</p>
+
+<p>You can imagine what a comical sight it was, but the climax came when
+he was challenged by the corporal, "Where the devil have you been?"
+"Me?" he replied innocently. "I only bin takin' the kid and the
+dawg for a bit of a blow."&mdash;<i>A. Rush (late 4th Batt. R. Fus.), 27 Milton
+Road, Wimbledon.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Getting Their Bearings</h3>
+
+<p>It was on the Loos front. One night a party of us were told off for
+reconnoitring. On turning back about six of us, with our young
+officer, missed our way and, after creeping about for some 15 minutes, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
+message came down, "Keep very quiet, we are nearly in the German
+lines."</p>
+
+<p>I passed on the message to the chap behind me, who answered in
+anything but a whisper, "Thank 'eaven we know where we are at last."&mdash;<i>H.
+Hutton (late 16th Lancers, attached Engineers), Marlborough Road,
+Upper Holloway.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>High Tea</h3>
+
+<p>During the winter of 1917-18 I was serving with my battery of
+Field Artillery in Italy. We had posted to us a draft of drivers
+just out from home, and one of them, seeing an observation balloon for
+the first time, asked an old driver what it was.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that," replied the old hand, who hailed from Hackney&mdash;"that
+is the Air Force canteen!"&mdash;<i>M. H. Cooke (late "B" Battery, 72nd
+Brigade, R.F.A.), Regency Street, Westminster.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lots in a Name</h3>
+
+<p>Salonika, mid-autumn, and torrents of rain. The battalion,
+changing over to another front, had trekked all through the night.
+An hour before dawn a halt was called to bivouac on the reverse slope
+of a hill until the journey could be completed in the darkness of the
+following night.</p>
+
+<p>Orderlies from each platoon were collecting blankets from their
+company pack mules. Last of them all was a diminutive Cockney, who
+staggered off in the darkness with his load perched on his head. Slowly
+and laboriously, slipping backwards at almost every step, he stumbled
+and slithered up hill in the ankle-deep mud. Presently he paused for
+breath, and took advantage of the opportunity to relieve his feelings
+in these well-chosen words: "All I can say is, the bloke as christened
+this 'ere perishin' place Greece was about blinking well right."&mdash;<i>P. H. T.
+(26th Division).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Gunga Din the Second</h3>
+
+<p>After the battle of Shaikh Sa'Ad in Mesopotamia in January
+1916 more than 300 wounded were being transported down the
+Tigris to Basra in a steamer and on open barges lashed on either side of it.
+Many suffered from dysentery as well as wounds&mdash;and it was raining.</p>
+
+<p>There appeared to be only one Indian bhisti (water-carrier), an old
+man over 60 years of age, to attend to all. He was nearly demented in
+trying to serve everyone at once. When my severely wounded neighbour&mdash;from
+Camberwell, he said&mdash;saw the bhisti, his welcome made us smile
+through our miseries.</p>
+
+<p>"Coo! If it ain't old Gunga Din! Wherever 'ave yer bin, me old
+brown son? Does yer muvver know yer aht?"&mdash;<i>A. S. Edwardes (late
+C.S.M., 1st Seaforth Highlanders), West Gate, Royal Hospital, Chelsea,
+S.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Fag fer an 'Orse</h3>
+
+<p>Late one afternoon towards the end of 1917, on the Cambrai sector,
+enemy counter-attacks had caused confusion behind our lines, and
+as I was walking along a road I met a disconsolate-looking little Cockney
+infantryman leading a large-size horse. He stopped me and said,
+"Give us a fag, mate, and I'll give yer an 'orse."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i101.jpg" width="600" height="510" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Give us a fag and I'll give yer an 'orse."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I gathered that he had found the horse going spare and was taking it
+along with him for company's sake.&mdash;<i>H. J. Batt (late Royal Fusiliers),
+21 Whitehall Park Road, W.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Put to Graze</h3>
+
+<p>It was at the siege of Kut, when the 13th ("Iron") Division was trying
+to relieve that gallant but hard-pressed body of men under General
+Townshend. Rations had been very low for days, and the battery
+had been digging gun-pits in several positions, till at last we had a change
+of position and "dug in" to stay a bit. What with bad water, digging in,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+and hardly any food, the men were getting fed up generally. An order
+came out to the effect that "A certain bunchy grass (detailed explanation)
+if picked and boiled would make a very nourishing meal." One hefty
+Cockney, "Dusty" Miller, caused a laugh when he vented his feelings
+with "'Struth, and nah we got ter be blinking sheep. Baa-Baa!"&mdash;<i>E.
+J. Bates (late R.F.A.), 37 Ulverscroft Road, E. Dulwich.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Smith's Feather Pillow</h3>
+
+<p>The boys had "rescued" a few hens from a deserted farm. The
+morning was windy and feathers were scattered in the mud.</p>
+
+<p>Picquet officer (appearing from a corner of the trench): "What's
+the meaning of all these feathers, Brown?"</p>
+
+<p>Brown: "Why, sir, Smiff wrote 'ome sayin' 'e missed 'is 'ome comforts,
+an' 'is ma sent 'im a fevver piller; an' 'e's so mad at our kiddin'
+that 'e's in that dug-out tearin' it to bits."&mdash;<i>John W. Martin, 16 Eccles
+Road, Lavender Hill, S.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bombs and Arithmetic</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the trenches in front of Armentières in the late summer
+of 1916. It was a fine, quiet day, with "nothing doing." I was
+convinced that a working party was busy in a section of the German
+trenches right opposite.</p>
+
+<p>Just then "O. C. Stokes" came along with his crew and their little
+trench gun. I told him of my "target," and suggested that he should
+try a shot with his Stokes mortar. Glad of something definite to do, he
+willingly complied.</p>
+
+<p>The Stokes gun was set down on the floor of the trench just behind
+my back, as I stood on the fire-step to observe the shoot.</p>
+
+<p>I gave the range. The gun was loaded. There was a faint pop, a
+slight hiss&mdash;then silence. Was the bomb going to burst in the gun and
+blow us all to bits? I glanced round apprehensively. A perfectly calm
+Cockney voice from one of the crew reassured me:</p>
+
+<p>"It's orl right, sir! If it don't go off while yer counts five&mdash;<i>you'll
+know it's a dud!</i>"&mdash;<i>Capt. T. W. C. Curd (late 20th Northumberland
+Fusiliers), 72 Victoria Street, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Help from Hindenburg</h3>
+
+<p>I was serving with the M.G.C. at Ecoust. Two men of the Middlesex
+Regiment had been busy for a week digging a sump hole in the exposed
+hollow in front of the village and had excavated to a depth of
+about eight feet. A bombardment which had continued all night became
+so severe about noon of the next day that orders were given for all to
+take what cover was available. It was noticed that the two men were
+still calmly at work in the hole, and I was sent to warn them to take
+shelter. They climbed out, and as we ran over the hundred yards which
+separated us from the trench a high explosive shell landed right in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
+hole we had just left, converting it into a huge crater. One of the men
+turned to me and said, "Lumme, mate, if old Hindenburg ain't been and
+gone and finished the blooming job for us!"&mdash;<i>J. S. F., Barnet, Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Raised his Voice&mdash;And the Dust</h3>
+
+<p>In the early part of 1917, while the Germans were falling back to the
+Hindenburg line on the Somme, trench warfare was replaced by
+advanced outposts for the time being. Rations were taken up to the
+company headquarters on mules.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i103.jpg" width="600" height="535" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"S'sh. For 'eaven's sake be quiet."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Another C.Q.M.S. and I were going up with mules one night and lost
+our way. We wandered on until a voice from a shell-hole challenged us.
+<i>We had passed the company headquarters and landed among the advanced
+outposts.</i></p>
+
+<p>The chap implored us to be quiet, and just as we turned back one of the
+mules chose to give the Germans a sample of his vocal abilities.</p>
+
+<p>The outpost fellow told us what he thought of us. The transport
+chap leading the mule pulled and tugged, using kind, gentle words as
+drivers do.</p>
+
+<p>And in the midst of it all my C.Q.M.S. friend walked up to the mule,
+holding his hands up, and whispered: "S-sh! For 'eaven's sake be
+quiet."&mdash;<i>F. W. Piper (ex-Sherwood Foresters), 30 The Crescent, Watford,
+Herts.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mademoiselle from&mdash;Palestine</h3>
+
+<p>After the fall of Gaza our battalion, on occupying a Jewish colony
+in the coastal sector which had just been evacuated by the Turks,
+received a great ovation from the overjoyed inhabitants.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 569px;">
+<img src="images/i104.jpg" width="569" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Mademoiselle from Ah-my-Tears."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of our lads, born well within hearing of Bow Bells, was effusively
+greeted by a Hebrew lady of uncertain age, who warmly embraced him
+and kissed him on each cheek.</p>
+
+<p>Freeing himself, and gesticulating in the approved manner, he turned
+to us and said: "Strike me pink! Mademoiselle from Ah-my-tears."&mdash;<i>Edward
+Powell, 80 Cavendish Road, Kentish Town, N.W.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Ally Toot Sweet"</h3>
+
+<p>At the latter end of September 1914 the 5th Division was moving
+from the Aisne to La Bassée and a halt was made in the region of
+Crépy-en-Valois, where a large enemy shell was found (dud).</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i105.jpg" width="600" height="505" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Ally toot sweet. If this shell goes orf...."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A Cockney private was posted to keep souvenir hunters from tampering
+with it. When he received his dinner he sat straddle-legged on the shell,
+admired by a few French children, whom he proceeded to address as
+follows: "Ally! Toot sweet, or you'll get blown to 'ell if this blinkin'
+shell goes orf."&mdash;<i>E. P. Ferguson, "Brecon," Fellows Road, S. Farnborough,
+Hants.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Luckier than the Prince</h3>
+
+<p>In the autumn of 1916, while attending to the loading of ammunition
+at Minden Post, a driver suddenly exclaimed, "'Struth, Quarter;
+who's the boy officer with all the ribbons up?"</p>
+
+<p>Glancing up, I recognised the Prince of Wales, quite unattended, pushing
+a bicycle through the mud.</p>
+
+<p>When I told the driver who the officer really was, the reply came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+quickly: "Blimey, I'm better off than he is; they <i>have</i> given me a
+horse to ride."&mdash;<i>H. J. Adams (ex.&mdash;B.Q.M.S., R.F.A.), Highclare, Station
+Road, Hayes, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Jerry he <i>Couldn't</i> Kill</h3>
+
+<p>During a patrol in No Man's Land at Flesquières we were between a
+German patrol and their front line, but eventually we were able to
+get back. I went to our Lewis gun post and told them Jerry had a
+patrol out. I was told: "One German came dahn 'ere last night&mdash;full
+marchin' order." "Didn't you ask him in?" I said. "No. Told him
+to get out of it. You can't put a Lewis gun on one man going on leave,"
+was the reply.&mdash;<i>C. G. Welch, 109 Sayer Street, S.E.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Q" for Quinine</h3>
+
+<p>In the autumn of 1917, on the Salonika front, we were very often
+short of bread, sugar, etc., the reason, we were told by the Quartermaster-Sergeant,
+being that the boats were continually sunk.</p>
+
+<p>At this time the "quinine parade" was strictly enforced, because of
+malaria, which was very prevalent.</p>
+
+<p>One day we were lined up for our daily dose, which was a very strong
+and unpleasant one, when one of our drivers, a bit of a wag, was heard to
+say to the M.O.: "Blimey! the bread boat goes dahn, the beef boat
+goes dahn, the rum and sugar boat goes dahn, but the perishin'
+quinine boat always gets 'ere."&mdash;<i>R. Ore (100 Brigade, R.F.A.), 40
+Lansdowne Road, Tottenham, N.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Blinkin' Descendant of Nebuchadnezzar</h3>
+
+<p>While stationed at Pozières in 1917 I was mate to our Cockney
+cook, who, according to Army standards, was something of an
+expert in the culinary art.</p>
+
+<p>One day a brass hat from H.Q., who was visiting the unit, entered the
+mess to inquire about the food served to the troops.</p>
+
+<p>"They 'as stew, roast, or boiled, wiv spuds and pudden to follow,"
+said cook, bursting with pride.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you give them any vegetables?" asked the officer.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, there ain't none issued in the rations."</p>
+
+<p>"No vegetables! What do you mean?&mdash;there are tons growing about
+here waiting to be picked. Look at all those dandelions&mdash;they make
+splendid greens. See that some are put in the stew to-morrow." With
+which illuminating information he retired.</p>
+
+<p>Followed a few moments' dead silence. Then the Cockney recovered
+from the shock.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme, mate, what did 'e say? Dandelions? 'E must be a
+blinkin' descendant of Nebuchadnezzar!"&mdash;<i>R. J. Tiney (late Sapper,
+R.E. Signals, 10th Corps), 327 Green Lanes, Finsbury Park, N.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Well-Cut Tailoring</h3>
+
+<p>Back from a spell behind Ypres in 1915, a few of us decided to
+scrounge round for a hair-cut. We found a shop which we thought
+was a barber's, but it turned out to be a tailor's. We found out afterwards!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 447px;">
+<img src="images/i107.jpg" width="447" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"My old girl will swear I bin in fer a stretch...."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Still, the old Frenchman made a good job of it&mdash;just as though someone
+had shaved our heads. My Cockney pal, when he discovered the
+truth, exclaimed: "Strike, if I go 'ome like this my old girl will swear
+I bin in fer a stretch."&mdash;<i>F. G. Webb (late Corpl., Middlesex Regiment),
+38 Andover Road, Twickenham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Evacuating "Darby and Joan"</h3>
+
+<p>Things were going badly with the town of Albert, and all day the
+inhabitants had been streaming from the town. On horse, on foot,
+and in all manner of conveyances they hastened onwards....</p>
+
+<p>Towards evening, when the bombardment was at its height and the
+roads were being plastered with shells, an old man tottered into sight
+pulling a crazy four-wheeled cart in which, perched amidst a pile of
+household goods, sat a tiny, withered lady of considerable age. As the
+couple reached the point where I was standing, the old man's strength
+gave out and he collapsed between the shafts.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed all up with them, as the guns were already registering on the
+only exit from the town when, thundering round a bend in the road, came
+a transport limber with driver and spare man. On seeing the plight of
+the old people, the driver pulled up, dismounted and, together with his
+partner, surveyed the situation.</p>
+
+<p>"What are we going to do with Darby and Joan?" asked the driver.
+"We can't get them and all their clobber in the limber and, if I know
+'em, they won't be parted from their belongings."</p>
+
+<p>"'Ook 'em on the back," replied the spare man. Sure enough, the
+old man was lifted into the limber and the old lady's four-wheeler tied
+on the back.</p>
+
+<p>Off they went at the gallop, the old lady's conveyance dragging like a
+canoe in the wake of the <i>Mauretania</i>. The heroic Cockney driver, forcing
+his team through the din and debris of the bombardment, was now
+oblivious to the wails of distress; his mind was back on his duty; he
+had given the old people a chance of living a little longer&mdash;that was all
+he could do: and so he turned a deaf ear to the squeals and lamentations
+that each fresh jolt and swerve wrung from the terrified antiquity he
+was towing.</p>
+
+<p>Shells dropped all around them on their career through the town until
+it seemed that they must "go under." However, they appeared again
+and again, after each cloud cleared, and in the end I saw the little cavalcade
+out of the town and danger.&mdash;<i>N. E. Crawshaw (late 15th London
+Regt.), 4 Mapleton Road, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Why ain't the Band Playing?"</h3>
+
+<p>I served with the 11th London Regiment in Palestine. One day
+our officer paid us a visit at dinner-time to find out if there were any
+complaints. While we were endeavouring to find the meat at the bottom
+of the spoilt water we heard a voice say: "Any complaints?" One
+of the platoon, not seeing the officer, thought the remark was a joke, so
+he replied, "Yes, why ain't the band playing?" On realising it was
+an official request he immediately corrected himself and said: "Sorry,
+sir, no complaints."</p>
+
+<p>I rather think the officer enjoyed the remark.&mdash;<i>F. G. Palmer, 29
+Dumbarton Road, Brixton, S.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Deduction</h3>
+
+<p>Our battalion, fresh from home, all nicely groomed and with new
+kit, stepped out whistling "Tipperary." We were on the road to
+Loos. Presently towards us came a pathetic procession of wounded men
+struggling back, some using their rifles as crutches.</p>
+
+<p>Our whistling had ceased; some faces had paled. Not a word was
+spoken for quite a while, until my Cockney pal broke the silence, remarking,
+"Lumme, I reckon there's been a bit of a row somewhere."&mdash;<i>Charles
+Phillips (late Middlesex Regt.), 108 Grosvenor Road, Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Peter in the Pool</h3>
+
+<p>We had advanced beyond the German first line in the big push of
+'18. The rain was heavy, the mud was deep; we had not quite
+dug in beyond "shallow," and rations had not come up&mdash;altogether a
+most dismal prospect.</p>
+
+<p>Quite near to us was a small pool of water which we all attempted to
+avoid when passing to and fro. Suddenly there was a yell and much
+cursing&mdash;the Cockney of the company, complete with his equipment,
+had fallen into the pool.</p>
+
+<p>After recovering dry ground he gazed at the pool in disgust and said,
+"Fancy a fing like that trying to drahn a bloke wiv a name like Peter."&mdash;<i>J.
+Carlton, Bayswater Court, St. Stephen's Court, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Where "Movie" Shows Cost Soap</h3>
+
+<p>We landed in North Russia in June 1918. We were piloted in on
+the <i>City of Marseilles</i> to a jetty. We did not know the name of
+the place. On the jetty we saw from the boat a British marine on
+sentry duty. We shouted down to him, "Where are we, mate?" He
+answered "Murmansk."</p>
+
+<p>We asked, "What sort of place," and he shouted, "Lumme, you've
+come to a blighted 'ole 'ere. They 'ave one picture palace and the price
+of admission is a bar of soap."&mdash;<i>M. C. Oliver (late Corporal R.A.F.),
+99, Lealand Road, Stamford Hill, N.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sherlock Holmes in the Desert</h3>
+
+<p>In the autumn of 1917, when training for the attack on Beersheba,
+in Palestine, we were encamped in bivouacs in the desert.</p>
+
+<p>The chief meal of the day was served in the cool of the evening and
+more often than not consisted of bully beef stew.</p>
+
+<p>One evening the Orderly Officer approached the dixie, looked into it,
+and seeing it half full of the usual concoction, remarked, "H'm, stew
+this evening."</p>
+
+<p>At once there came a voice, that of a Cockney tailor, from the nearest
+bivouac&mdash;"My dear Watson!"&mdash;<i>R. S. H. (late 16th County of London
+Q.W.R.), Purley, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Army "Loops the Loop"</h3>
+
+<p>The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was very bad, and if you went
+too close to the edge you were likely to go over the precipice;
+indeed, many lives were lost in this way.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i110.jpg" width="600" height="488" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I'll bet I'm the first bloke to loop the loop in a lorry."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One day a lorry toppled over and fell at least a hundred feet. When
+the rescuers got down to it, expecting to find a mangled corpse, they were
+surprised to hear a well-known Cockney voice from under the debris,
+exclaiming: "Blimey, I'll bet I'm the first bloke in the whole Army
+wot's looped the loop in a motor-lorry."&mdash;<i>Sidney H. Rothschild, York
+Buildings, Adelphi, W.C.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Repartee on the Ridge</h3>
+
+<p>While on the Vimy Ridge sector I was going one dark night across
+the valley towards the front line when I lost my way among the
+mud and shell-holes. Hearing voices, I shouted an inquiry as to the
+whereabouts of Gabriel Trench. Back came the reply: "Lummie,
+mate, I ain't the blinkin' harbourmaster!"&mdash;<i>T. Gillespie (late Mining
+Company, R.E.), London.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A New Kind of "Missing"</h3>
+
+<p>A battalion of the 47th London Division was making its first
+journey to the front line at Givenchy.</p>
+
+<p>As we were proceeding from Béthune by the La Bassée Canal we passed
+another crowd of the same Division who had just been relieved. We were
+naturally anxious to know what it was like "up there," and the following
+conversation took place in passing:</p>
+
+<p>"What's it like, mate?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right."</p>
+
+<p>"Had any casualties?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, mate, two wounded, and a bloke lost 'is 'at."&mdash;<i>F. G. Nawton,
+(ex-Major 15th Batt. M.G.C., 2 Kenton Park Road, Kenton, Middlesex).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>And it Started with a Hen Raid!</h3>
+
+<p>While we were behind the line in March 1918 some chickens
+were stolen from the next village and traced to our billet by the
+feathers.</p>
+
+<p>As the culprits could not be found our O.C. punished the whole company
+by stopping our leave for six months.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later we "moved up" just as Jerry broke through further
+south. The orderly sergeant one night read out orders, which finished
+up with Sir Douglas Haig's famous dispatch ending with the words:
+"All leave is now stopped throughout the Army till further orders."
+Thereupon a tousled head emerged from a blanket on the floor with this
+remark: "Blimey, they mean to find out who pinched those blinking
+chickens."&mdash;<i>J. Slack, 157 Engadine Street, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I'm a Water-Lily"</h3>
+
+<p>This incident took place on the Neuve Chapelle front early in 1916.</p>
+
+<p>Our platoon was known as the "Divisional Drainers," for it was
+our job to keep the trenches as free from water as possible.</p>
+
+<p>One day, while we were working in a very exposed drain about three
+feet deep, Jerry was unusually active with his whizz-bangs, and we were
+repeatedly shelled off the job. During one of our periodical "dives"
+for cover, one of the boys (a native of Canning Town) happened to be
+"left at the post," and instead of gaining a dry shelter was forced to
+fling himself in the bottom of the drain, which had over two feet of
+weedy water in it.</p>
+
+<p>Just as he reappeared, with weeds and things clinging to his head and
+shoulders, an officer came to see if we were all safe.</p>
+
+<p>On seeing our weed-covered chum he stopped and said, "What's the
+matter, Johnson? Got the wind up?"</p>
+
+<p>Johnson, quick as lightning, replied, "No, sir; camouflage. I'm
+a water-lily."&mdash;<i>F. Falcuss (late 19th Batt. N.F.), 51, Croydon Grove,
+West Croydon.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Knowin' the Language</h3>
+
+<p>A team of mules in November 1916 was taking a double limber up
+to the line in pitch darkness on the Béthune-La Bassée road. A
+heavy strafe was on, and the road was heavily shelled at intervals from
+Beavry onwards.</p>
+
+<p>On the limber was a newly-joined padre huddled up, on his way to
+join advanced battalion headquarters. A shell burst 60 yards ahead,
+and the mules reared; some lay down, kicked over the traces, and the
+wheel pair managed to get their legs over the centre pole of the limber.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i112.jpg" width="600" height="436" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Would you mind trekkin' off up the road?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>There was chaos for a few minutes. Then the padre asked the wheel
+driver in a very small voice, "My man, can I do anything to assist you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Assist us," was the reply. "Yes, you can. Would you mind, sir,
+trekkin' off up the road, so as we can use language these blighters understand?"&mdash;<i>L.
+C. Hoffenden (late 483rd Field Co. R.E.), "Waltonhurst,"
+16 Elmgate Gardens, Edgware.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Churning in the Skies</h3>
+
+<p>After returning from a night's "egg-laying" on Jerry's transport
+lines and dumps, my brother "intrepid airman" and I decided on
+tea and toast. To melt a tin of ration butter which was of the consistency
+of glue we placed it close to the still hot engine of the plane. Unknown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+to us, owing to the slant of the machine, the tin slipped backwards and
+spilled a goodly proportion of its melted contents over the propeller at
+the back. (Our planes were of the "pusher" type.)</p>
+
+<p>Next day as we strolled into the hangar to look the bus over we found
+our Cockney mechanic, hands on hips, staring at the butter-splattered
+propeller.</p>
+
+<p>"Sufferin' smoke, sir," he said to me, with a twinkle, "wherever was
+you flyin' lars' night&mdash;<i>through the milky way</i>?"&mdash;<i>Ralph
+Plummer (late 102 Squadron R.A.F. Night-Bombers), Granville House,
+Arundel Street, Strand.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Larnin' the Mule</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/i113.jpg" width="400" height="415" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Now p'raps you'll know!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>On the Somme I saw a Cockney driver having trouble with an obstinate
+mule. At last he got down from his limber and, with a rather vicious
+tug at the near-side rein said, "That's your left," and, tugging the
+off rein, "that's your right&mdash;now p'raps you'll know!"&mdash;<i>E.
+B. (late Gunner, R.G.A.), Holloway Road, N.7.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Dr. Livingstone, I Presoom"</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1915 one of our Q.M. Sergeants was sent to Cairo to collect
+a gang of native labourers for work in the brigade lines. Whilst
+at breakfast one morning we saw him return from the train at Ismailia,
+leading a long column of fellaheen (with their wives and children) all
+loaded with huge bundles, boxes, cooking pots, etc., on their heads.</p>
+
+<p>The Q.M.S., who was wearing a big white "solar topi" of the mushroom
+type instead of his regulation military helmet, was greeted outside
+our hut by the R.S.M., and as they solemnly shook hands a Cockney
+voice behind me murmured: "Doctor Livingstone, I presoom?" The
+picture was complete!&mdash;<i>Yeo Blake (1st County of London Yeomanry),
+Brighton.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Veteran Scored</h3>
+
+<p>One morning, while a famous general was travelling around the
+Divisional Headquarters, his eagle eye spotted an old war hero, a
+Londoner, whose fighting days were over, and who now belonged to the
+Labour Corps, busy on road repairs. The fact was also noticed that
+although within the gas danger-zone the old veteran had broken standing
+orders by not working with his gas mask in position.</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly the Corps Commander stopped his car and, getting out,
+started off in his own familiar way as follows:</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: Good morning, my man; do you know who is speaking to
+you?</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: No, sir!</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: I am your Corps Commander, Sir &mdash;&mdash;, etc.</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: I'm pleased to have this opportunity of talking to one of my
+men.</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: I see you are putting your back into your work.</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: I also notice that you have evidently left your gas mask behind.</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Yes, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: Now supposing, my man, a heavy gas cloud was now coming
+down this road towards you. What would you do?</p>
+
+<p>O. V. (after a few moments' pause): Nothing, sir.</p>
+
+<p>C. C.: What! Why not, my good man?</p>
+
+<p>O. V.: Because the wind is the wrong way, sir.</p>
+
+<p>Exit C. C.&mdash;<i>T. J. Gough, Oxford House, 13 Dorset Square, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Old Moore Was Right</h3>
+
+<p>One of my drivers, a Cockney, called one of his horses Old Moore&mdash;"'cos
+'e knows every blinkin' fing like <i>Old Moore's Almanac</i>."</p>
+
+<p>One evening, as we were going into the line, we were halted by a staff
+officer and warned of gas. Orders were given at once to wear gas helmets.
+(A nose-bag gas-mask had just been issued for horses.)</p>
+
+<p>After a while I made my way to the rear of the column to see how
+things were. I was puffing and gasping for breath, when a cheery voice
+called out, "Stick it, sargint."</p>
+
+<p>Wondering how any man could be so cheery in such circumstances, I
+lifted my gas helmet, and lo! there sat my Cockney driver, with his
+horses' masks slung over his arm and his own on top of his head like a
+cap-comforter.</p>
+
+<p>"Why aren't you wearing your gas helmet?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>He leaned over the saddle and replied, in a confidential whisper,
+"Old Moore chucked his orf, so there ain't no blinkin' gas abaht&mdash;<i>'e</i>
+knows."</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>We finished the rest of that journey in comfort. Old Moore had prophesied
+correctly.&mdash;<i>S. Harvey (late R.F.A.), 28 Belmont Park Road,
+Leyton, E.10</i>.</p>
+
+
+<h3>He Wouldn't Insult the Mule</h3>
+
+<p>One day, while our Field Ambulance was on the Dorian front,
+Salonika, our new colonel and the regimental sergeant-major were
+visiting the transport lines. They came across a Cockney assiduously
+grooming a pair of mules&mdash;rogues, both of them.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i115.jpg" width="600" height="510" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... because I didn't want to hurt his feelings."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Said the R.S.M.: "Well, Brown, what are the names of your mules?"</p>
+
+<p>Brown: "Well, that one is Ananias, because his looks are all lies.
+This one is Satan, but I nearly called him something else. It was a
+toss-up."</p>
+
+<p>With a smile at the C.O., the sergeant-major remarked: "I would
+like to know what the other name was. Tell the colonel, what was it?"</p>
+
+<p>Brown: "Well, I was going to call him 'Sergeant-Major,' but I
+didn't want to hurt his feelings."&mdash;<i>"Commo" (ex-Sergeant, R.A.M.C.),
+London, N.1</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Don't Touch 'em, Sonny!"</h3>
+
+<p>We had just come back from Passchendaele, that land of two options&mdash;you
+could walk on the duck boards and get blown off or you
+could step off them yourself and get drowned in the shell-holes.</p>
+
+<p>A draft from home had made us up to strength, and when Fritz treated
+us to an air raid about eight miles behind the line I am afraid he was
+almost ignored. Anyway, our Cockney sergeant was voicing the opinion
+that it wasn't a bad war when up rushed one recruit holding the chin
+strap of his tin hat and panting, "Aero&mdash;aero&mdash;aeroplanes." The
+sergeant looked at him for a second and said, "All right, sonny, don't
+touch 'em."</p>
+
+<p>A flush came to the youngster's face, and he walked away&mdash;a soldier.&mdash;<i>R.
+C. Ida, D.C.M. (late 2nd Royal Berks), 39 Hoylake Road, East Acton,
+W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Ze English&mdash;Zey are all Mad!"</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1915 an Anti-Aircraft Brigade landed at Dunkirk. Their
+guns were mounted in armoured cars, the drivers for which were
+largely recruited from London busmen.</p>
+
+<p>By arrangement with the French staff it was decided that the password
+to enable the drivers to pass the French lines should be the French
+word <i>aviation</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The men were paraded and made to repeat this word, parrot fashion,
+with orders to be careful to use it, as it was said that French sentries
+had a nasty habit of shooting first and making any inquiries afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>About a month later I asked my lorry driver how he got on with the
+word. "Quite easy, sir," said he. "I leans aht over the dash and
+yells aht 'ave a ration,' and the Frenchies all larfs and lets me by."</p>
+
+<p>A bit worried about this I interviewed the French Staff Officer and
+asked him if the men were giving the word satisfactorily.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," he said, "zose men of yours, zey are comique. Your man, he
+says somezing about his dinner, and ze ozzers zey say 'Ullo, Charlie
+Chaplin,' and 'Wotcher, froggy'&mdash;all sorts of pass-words."</p>
+
+<p>I apologised profusely. "I will get fresh orders issued," I said, "to
+ensure that the men say the correct word."</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied the French officer, "it ees no use. We know your
+men now. Ze English will never alter&mdash;<i>zey are all mad</i>."&mdash;<i>G. H. Littleton
+(Lieut.-Col.), 10 Russell Square Mansions, Southampton Row, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mixed History</h3>
+
+<p>The Scene: Qurnah, Mesopotamia.</p>
+
+<p>Cockney Tommy&mdash;obviously an old Sunday school boy&mdash;fed up
+with Arabs, Turks, boils, scorpions, flies, thirst, and dust: "Well, if
+this is the Garden of Eden, no wonder the Twelve Apostles 'opped it!"&mdash;<i>G.
+T. C., Hendon, N.W.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Got His Goat!</h3>
+
+<p>We, a Field Company of the R.E.'s in France, were on the move to
+a new sector, and amongst our "properties" was a mobile "dairy"&mdash;a
+goat.</p>
+
+<p>"Nanny" travelled on top of a trestle-wagon containing bridging
+gear, with a short rope attached to her collar to confine her activities.
+But a "pot-hole" in the narrow road supplied a lurch that dislodged
+her, with the result that she slid overboard, and the shortness of the rope
+prevented her from reaching the ground.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i117.jpg" width="600" height="419" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Nanny, you'll hang next time!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The driver of the wagon behind saw her predicament, and, dismounting,
+ran to her assistance, shouting for the column to halt. Then he took
+Nanny in his arms to relieve the weight on her neck, whilst others
+clambered aboard and released the rope.</p>
+
+<p>Nanny was then put on her legs while her rescuer stood immediately
+in front, watching her recover.</p>
+
+<p>This she speedily did, and, raising her head for a moment, apparently
+discerned the cause of her discomfiture peering at her. At any rate,
+lowering her head, she sprang and caught Bermondsey Bill amidships,
+sending him backwards into a slimy ditch at the side of the road.</p>
+
+<p>As he lay there amidst the undergrowth he yelled, "Strike me pink,
+Nanny! You'll hang next time."&mdash;<i>E. Martin, 78 Chelverton Road,
+Putney, S.W.15.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Difficult Top Note</h3>
+
+<p>Somewhere in Palestine the band of a famous London division
+had been called together for very much overdue practice. The overture
+"Poet and Peasant" called for a French horn solo ending on a
+difficult top note.</p>
+
+<p>After the soloist had made
+many attempts to get this note
+the bandmaster lost his temper
+and gave the player a piece
+of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Looking at the battered instrument,
+which had been in
+France, the Balkans, and was
+now in the Wilderness, and was
+patched with sticking-plaster
+and soap, the soloist, who
+hailed from Mile End, replied:
+"Here, if you can do it better
+you have a go. I don't mind
+trying it on an <i>instrument</i>,
+but I'm darned if I can play
+it on a cullender."&mdash;<i>D. Beland,
+17 Ridgdale Street, London, E.3.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 344px;">
+<img src="images/i118.jpg" width="344" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... but I'm darned if I can play it
+on a cullender."</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Home by Underground</h3>
+
+<p>A cold, wet night in France.
+My company was making
+its way up a communication
+trench on the right of the
+Arras-Cambrin road. It was
+in some places waist deep in
+mud. I was in front next to
+my officer when the word was
+passed down that one of the
+men had fallen into the mud
+and could not be found. The
+officer sent me back to find
+out what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>On reaching the spot I found that the man had fallen into the mouth
+of a very deep dug-out which had not been used for some time.</p>
+
+<p>Peering into the blackness, I called out, "Where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>Back came the reply: "You get on wiv the blinkin' war. I've fahnd
+the Channel Tunnel and am going 'ome."</p>
+
+<p>I may say it took us six hours to get him out.&mdash;<i>H. F. B. (late 7th Batt.
+Middlesex Regt.), London, N.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Job for Samson</h3>
+
+<p>During Allenby's big push in Palestine the men were on a forced
+night march, and were tired out and fed up. An officer was trying
+to buck some of them up by talking of the British successes in France
+and also of the places of interest they would see farther up in Palestine.</p>
+
+<p>He was telling them that they were now crossing the Plains of Hebron
+where Samson carried the gates of Gaza, when a deep Cockney voice
+rang out from the ranks, "What a pity that bloke ain't 'ere to carry
+this pack of mine!"&mdash;<i>C. W. Blowers, 25 Little Roke Avenue, Kenley,
+Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jerry Wins a Bet</h3>
+
+<p>In the Salient, 1916: Alf, who owned a Crown and Anchor board of
+great antiquity, had it spread out on two petrol cans at the bottom
+of a shell-hole.</p>
+
+<p>Around it four of us squatted and began to deposit thereon our dirty
+half and one franc notes, with occasional coins of lesser value. The
+constant whistle of passing fragments was punctuated by the voice of
+Alf calling upon the company to "'ave a bit on the 'eart" or alternately
+"to 'ave a dig in the grave" when a spent bullet crashed on his tin
+hat and fell with a thud into the crown square. "'Struth," gasped
+Alf, "old squarehead wants to back the sergeant-major." He gave a
+final shake to the cup and exposed the dice&mdash;one heart and two crowns.
+"Blimey," exclaimed Alf, "would yer blinkin' well believe it? Jerry's
+backed a winner. 'Arf a mo," and picking up the spent bullet he threw
+it with all his might towards the German lines, exclaiming, "'Ere's yer
+blinking bet back, Jerry, and 'ere's yer winnings." He cautiously fired
+two rounds.&mdash;<i>G. S. Raby (ex-2nd K.R.R.C.), Shoeburyness, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lucky he was Born British</h3>
+
+<p>Many ex-soldiers must remember the famous Major Campbell, who
+(supported by the late Jimmy Driscoll), toured behind the lines in
+France giving realistic demonstrations of bayonet fighting.</p>
+
+<p>I was a spectator on one occasion when the Major was demonstrating
+"defence with the naked hands." "Now," he shouted as Jimmy
+Driscoll (who acted the German) rushed upon him with rifle and bayonet
+pointed for a thrust, "I side-step" (grasping his rifle at butt and upper
+band simultaneously); "I twist it to the horizontal and fetch my knee
+up into the pit of his stomach, so! And then, as his head comes down,
+I release my right hand, point my fore and third fingers, so! and stab
+at his eyes."</p>
+
+<p>"Lor'!" gasped a little Cockney platoon chum squatting beside me,
+"did yer see that lot? Wot a nice kind of bloke he is! Wot a blinkin'
+stroke of luck he was born on our side!"&mdash;<i>S. J. Wilson (late 1/20th
+County London Regt.), 27 Cressingham Road, Lewisham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>You Never Can Tell</h3>
+
+<p>Scene: Turk trench, Somme, on a cold, soaking night in November,
+1916. A working party, complete with rifles, picks, and spades,
+which continually became entangled in the cats' cradle of miscellaneous
+R.E. wire, is making terribly slow progress over irregular trench-boards
+hidden under mud and water. Brisk strafing ahead promising trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Impatient officer (up on the parapet): "For heaven's sake, you lads,
+get a move on! You're not going to a funeral!"</p>
+
+<p>Cockney voice (from bottom of trench): "'Ow the dooce does <i>'e</i> know!"&mdash;<i>W.
+Ridsdale, 41 Manor Road, Beckenham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Window Gazer</h3>
+
+<p>In the early part of 1915, when the box periscope was in great use in
+the trenches, we received a draft of young recruits. One lad, of a
+rather inquisitive nature, was always looking in the glass trying to find
+Jerry's whereabouts.</p>
+
+<p>An old Cockney, passing up and down, had seen this lad peeping in
+the glass. At last he stopped and addressed the lad as follows:</p>
+
+<p>"You've been a-looking in that bloomin' winder all the die, an' nah
+yer ain't bought nuffink."&mdash;<i>E. R. Gibson (late Middlesex Regt.), 42
+Maldon Road, Edmonton, N.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I Don't Fink"</h3>
+
+<p>After we landed in France our officer gave us a lecture and told us
+that our best pal in this world was our rifle. He warned us that
+on no account must we part with it. A couple of nights later Gunner
+Brown, a Cockney, was on guard. When the visiting officer approached
+him and said, "Your rifle is dirty, gunner," he replied, "I don't fink so
+sir, 'cos I cleaned it." "Give it to me," said the officer sternly, which
+Brown did. Then the officer said, "You fool, if I were an enemy in
+English uniform I could shoot you." To which Brown replied, "I don't
+fink you could, sir, 'cos I've got the blinkin' bolt in my pocket."&mdash;<i>E. W.
+Houser (late 41st Division, R.F.A.) 22 Hamlet Road, Southend.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why the Attack <i>Must</i> Fail</h3>
+
+<p>November 1918. The next day we were to move up in readiness
+for the great advance of the 3rd Army.</p>
+
+<p>Some of us were trying to sleep in a cellar when the silence was broken
+by a small voice: "I'm sure this attack will go wrong, you chaps! I
+feel it in my bones!"</p>
+
+<p>It can be imagined how this cheerful remark was received, but when
+the abuse had died down, the same voice was heard again: "Yes, I
+knows it. Some blighter will step orf wi' the wrong foot and we'll all
+'ave to come back and start again!"&mdash;<i>"D" Coy., M.G.C. (24th Batt.),
+Westcliff.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The "Shovers"</h3>
+
+<p>During the retreat of 1918 I was standing with my company on the
+side of the road by Outersteene Farm, outside Bailleul, when three
+very small and youthful German Tommies with helmets four sizes too
+large passed on their way down the line as prisoners for interrogation.
+As they reached us I heard one of my men say to another: "Luv us,
+'Arry, look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"&mdash;<i>L. H. B., Beckenham.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i121.jpg" width="600" height="480" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Luv us, 'Arry; look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Rehearsal&mdash;Without the Villain</h3>
+
+<p>A small party with a subaltern were withdrawn from the line to
+rehearse a raid on the German line. A replica of the German
+trenches had been made from aircraft photographs, and these, with our
+own trench and intervening wire, were faithfully reproduced, even to
+shell-holes.</p>
+
+<p>The rehearsal went off wonderfully. The wire was cut, the German
+trenches were entered, and dummy bombs thrown down the dug-outs.</p>
+
+<p>Back we came to our own trenches. "Everything was done excellently,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+men," said the subaltern, "but I should like to be sure that every difficulty
+has been allowed for. Can any man think of any point which we have
+overlooked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," came the terse reply&mdash;"Jerry."&mdash;<i>Edward Nolan (15th London
+Regt.), 41 Dalmeny Avenue, S.W.16.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Poetry Before the Push</h3>
+
+<p>During February and March 1918 the 1/13th Battalion London
+Regiment (the Kensingtons), who were at Vimy Ridge, had been
+standing-to in the mornings for much longer than the regulation hour
+because of the coming big German attack. One company commander&mdash;a
+very cheery officer&mdash;was tired of the general "wind up" and determined
+to pull the legs of the officers at Battalion H.Q. It was his duty to
+send in situation reports several times a day. To vary things he wrote
+a situation report in verse, sent it over the wire to B.H.Q., where, of
+course, it was taken down in prose and read with complete consternation
+by the C.O. and adjutant!</p>
+
+<p>It showed the gay spirit which meant so much in the front line at a
+time when everyone's nerves were on edge. It was written less than two
+days before the German offensive of March 21. Here are the verses:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+(<i>C Company Situation Report 19/3/18</i>)<br />
+<br />
+There is nothing I can tell you<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you really do not know&mdash;</span><br />
+Except that we are on the Ridge<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Fritz is down below.</span><br />
+<br />
+I'm tired of "situations"<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And of "wind" entirely "vane."</span><br />
+The gas-guard yawns and tells me<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"It's blowing up for rain."</span><br />
+<br />
+He's a human little fellow.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a thoughtful point of view,</span><br />
+And his report (uncensored)<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I pass, please, on to you.</span><br />
+<br />
+"When's old Fritzie coming over?<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Does the General really know?</span><br />
+The Colonel seems to think so,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Captain tells us 'No.'</span><br />
+<br />
+"When's someone going to tell us<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We can 'Stand-to' as before?</span><br />
+An hour at dawn and one at dusk,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lor' blimey, who wants more?"</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>The word "vane" in the second verse refers, of course, to the weather-vane
+used in the trenches to indicate whether the wind was favourable
+or not for a gas attack.&mdash;<i>Frederick Heath (Major), 1/13th Batt. London
+Regt. (Kensingtons).</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>'Erb's Consolation Prize</h3>
+
+<p>A narrow communication trench leading up to the front line;
+rain, mud, shells, and everything else to make life hideous.</p>
+
+<p>Enter the ration party, each man carrying something bulky besides
+his rifle and kit.</p>
+
+<p>One of the party, a Londoner known as 'Erb, is struggling with a huge
+mail-bag, bumping and slipping and sliding, moaning and swearing,
+when a voice from under a sack of bread pipes: "Never mind, 'Erb;
+perhaps there's a postcard in it for you!"&mdash;<i>L. G. Austin (24th London
+Regiment), 8 Almeida Street, Upper Street, Islington, N.1.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 557px;">
+<img src="images/i123.jpg" width="557" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Never mind, 'Erb, perhaps there's a postcard in it for you!"</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Rum for Sore Feet</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst doing duty as acting Q.M.S. I was awakened one night by
+a loud banging on the door of the shack which was used as the
+stores. Without getting up I asked the reason for the noise, and was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+told that a pair of boots I had issued that day were odd&mdash;one was smaller
+than the other. The wearer was on stable piquet, and could hardly
+walk.</p>
+
+<p>I told him he would have to put up with it till the morning&mdash;I wasn't
+up all night changing boots, and no doubt I should have a few words to
+say when I did see him!</p>
+
+<p>"Orl right, Quarter," came the reply, "I'm sorry I woke yer&mdash;but
+could yer give us a tot of rum to stop the pain?"&mdash;<i>P. K. (late 183rd
+Batt. 41st Div. R.F.A.), Kilburn, N.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Two Guineas' Worth</h3>
+
+<p>In France during November 1914 I received an abrupt reminder that
+soldiering with the Honourable Artillery Company entails an annual
+subscription.</p>
+
+<p>The battalion had marched out during the night to a small village
+named Croix Barbée to carry out some operation, and returned at daybreak
+to its "lodging" near La Couture, another village some four or
+five miles away.</p>
+
+<p>Being a signaller, I had the doubtful privilege of owning a bicycle,
+which had to be pushed or carried every inch of the way. On the march
+back the mud was so bad that it was impossible for me to keep up with
+the battalion, owing to the necessity every quarter of a mile or so of
+cleaning out the mudguards.</p>
+
+<p>I was plodding along all by myself in the early hours of daylight, very
+tired of the bike and everything else, and I approached an old soldier
+of the Middlesex Regiment sitting by the roadside recovering slowly
+from the strain of the fatiguing night march.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Well, mate,
+'ad yer two guineas wurf yet?"&mdash;<i>J. H. May, Ravenswood, Ashford,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Four-footed Spy</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst we were at Arras a horse was found entangled in some
+barbed wire, having presumably strayed from the German lines.
+He was captured by a rifleman and brought back to the horse lines to be
+used by the transport driver.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney groom was detailed to look after him. The two never
+seemed to agree, for the groom was always being bitten or kicked by
+"Jerry."</p>
+
+<p>One morning the picket discovered that "Jerry" was missing, and
+concluded that he must have broken away during the night. The matter
+was reported to the sergeant, who went and routed out the groom.
+"What about it? Ain't you goin' to look for 'im?" said the sergeant.</p>
+
+<p>"Not me, sarge! I always said the blighter was a blinkin' spy!" replied
+the groom.&mdash;<i>J. Musgrave (late 175th Infantry Brigade), 52 Cedar Grove,
+South Ealing, W.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Every Dog has his Night</h3>
+
+<p>Our battalion arrived in a French village late on the night of September
+25, 1915, after marching all day in pouring rain. To add to our
+troubles no billets were available (the place was teeming with reserve
+troops for the attack at Loos).</p>
+
+<p>We were told to find some sort of shelter from the rain and get a good
+night's rest, as we were to move up to the attack on the morrow.</p>
+
+<p>My chum, a Londoner, and I scouted round. I found room for one in
+an already overcrowded stable; my chum continued the search. He
+returned in a few minutes to tell me he had found a spot. I wished him
+good night and went to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>In the morning, when I came out of the stable, I saw the long legs of a
+Guardsman (who proved to be my chum) protruding from a dog kennel.
+Beside them sat a very fed-up dog!&mdash;<i>F. Martin (late 1st Batt. Scots
+Guards), 91 Mostyn Road, Brixton, S.W.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 504px;">
+<img src="images/i125.jpg" width="504" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"...A very fed-up dog."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Brigadier's Glass Eye</h3>
+
+<p>A brigadier of the 54th Infantry Brigade (18th Division), who
+had a glass-eye, and his Cockney runner, were on their way up the
+line when they observed a dead German officer who had a very prominent
+gold tooth.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, passing by the same spot, the Brigadier noticed that
+the gold tooth was missing.</p>
+
+<p>"I see that his gold tooth has gone, Johnson," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose someone will take my glass eye, if I am knocked out."</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir. I've put meself dahn fer that, fer a souvenir!"&mdash;<i>W. T.
+Pearce, "Southernhay," Bethune Avenue, Friern Barnet, N.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Chaplain-General's Story</h3>
+
+<p>In June 1917 I shared a G.H.Q. car with the Chaplain-General to
+the Forces, Bishop Gwynne, who was on his way from St. Omer to
+Amiens, whilst I was on my way to the Third Army School at Auxi-le-Château.</p>
+
+<p>During the journey our conversation turned to chaplains, and the
+bishop asked me whether I thought the chaplains then coming to France
+were of the right type, especially from the point of view of the regimental
+officers and men. My reply was that the chaplains as a whole differed
+very little from any other body of men in France: they were either men
+of the world and very human, and so got on splendidly with the troops,
+or else they were neither the one nor the other, cut very little ice, and
+found their task a very difficult one.</p>
+
+<p>The Bishop then told me the following story, which he described as
+perfectly true:</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+
+<p>"A chaplain attached to a London regiment made a practice of
+always living in the front line whenever the battalion went in to the
+trenches rather than remaining with Battalion Headquarters some way
+back, and he had his own dug-out over which appeared the words 'The
+Vicarage.'</p>
+
+<p>"One day a young Cockney in the line for the first time was walking
+along the trench with an older soldier, and turning a corner suddenly
+came on 'The Vicarage.'</p>
+
+<p>"'Gorblimey, Bill!' he said, 'who'd 'ave fought of seein' the b&mdash;&mdash;
+vicarage in the front line?'"</p>
+
+<p>"Immediately the cheery face of the padre popped out from behind
+the blanket covering the entrance and a voice in reply said: 'Yes!
+And who'd have thought of seeing the b&mdash;&mdash; vicar too?'"</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>"That's the kind of chaplain," said the Bishop, "I'm trying to get
+them to send out to France."&mdash;<i>(Brig.-Gen.) R. J. Kentish, C.M.G., D.S.O.,
+Shalford Park, Guildford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Thirst Worth Saving</h3>
+
+<p>During the summer of 1917 our battalion&mdash;the 1/5th Buffs&mdash;formed
+part of General Thompson's flying column operating between the
+Tigris and the Shatt Al-'Adhaim.</p>
+
+<p>One morning we discovered that the native camel drivers had deserted
+to the enemy's lines, taking with them the camels that were carrying
+our water.</p>
+
+<p>No man had more than a small cup of water in his bottle yet we
+waited orders until dawn the next day, when a 'plane dropped a message
+for us to return to the Tigris.</p>
+
+<p>I shall not dwell on that 20-mile march back to the river over the
+burning sand&mdash;I cannot remember the last few miles of it myself. None
+of us could speak. Our lips and tongues were bursting.</p>
+
+<p>When we reached the Tigris we drank and drank again&mdash;then lay
+exhausted.</p>
+
+<p>The first man I heard speak was "Busty" Johnson, who, with great
+effort hoarsely muttered: "Lumme, if I can only keep this blinkin'
+first till I goes on furlough!"&mdash;<i>J. W. Harvey (late 1/5th Buffs, M.E.F.),
+25 Queen's Avenue, Greenford Park, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Points of View</h3>
+
+<p>On a wet and cold winter's night in the hills south of Nablus (Palestine)
+a sentry heard sounds as of slipping feet and strange guttural
+noises from the direction of the front line. He waited with his rifle at
+the port and then challenged: "Halt! who goes there?"</p>
+
+<p>A thin, dismal voice came from the darkness. "A pore miserable
+blighter with five ruddy camels."</p>
+
+<p>"Pass, miserable blighter, all's well," replied the sentry.</p>
+
+<p>Into the sentry's view came a rain-soaked disconsolate-looking Tommy
+"towing" five huge ration camels.</p>
+
+<p>"All's well, is it? Coo! Not 'arf!" said he.&mdash;<i>W. E. Bickmore (late
+"C" 303 Brigade, R.F.A., 60th Div.), 121 Gouville Road, Thornton Heath,
+Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not the British Museum</h3>
+
+<p>The Labyrinth Sector.</p>
+
+<p>Three of us&mdash;signallers&mdash;having just come off duty in the front
+line, were preparing to put in a few hours' sleep, when a voice came
+floating down the dug-out steps: "Is Corporal Stone down there?"</p>
+
+<p>Chorus: "No!"</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later came the same voice: "Is Sergeant Fossell down
+there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go away," replied our Cockney; "this ain't the blinkin' British
+Museum!"&mdash;<i>G. J. Morrison (late 14th London Regt.), "Alness," Colborne
+Way, Worcester Park, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jerry Would Not Smile</h3>
+
+<p>I met him coming from the front line, one of "London's Own."
+He was taking back the most miserable and sullen-looking prisoner
+I have ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Got a light, Jock?" he asked me. I obliged. "'Ave a Ruby
+Queen, matey?" I accepted.</p>
+
+<p>"Cheerful-looking customer you've got there, Fusie," I ventured,
+pointing to his prisoner.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i128.jpg" width="600" height="570" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... and if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's 'opeless."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He looked up in disgust. "Cheerful? Lummie, he gives me the
+creeps. I've orfered 'im a fag, and played 'Katie' and 'When this
+luvly war is over' on me old mouf orgin for him, but not a bloomin'
+smile. An' I've shown him me souvenirs and a photograph of me old
+woman, and, blimey, if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's 'opeless!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And then, with a cheery "Mercy bokoo, matey," and a "Come on,
+'Appy," to his charge, he pushed on.&mdash;<i>Charles Sumner (late London
+Scottish), Butler's Cottage, Sutton Lane, Heston, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Birdie" Had to Smile</h3>
+
+<p>While I was serving with the Australians at Gallipoli in 1915 I
+was detailed to take charge of a fatigue party to carry water
+from the beach to the front line, a distance of about a mile.</p>
+
+<p>Our way lay over rather dangerous and extremely hilly country.
+The weather was very hot. Each man in the party had to carry four
+petrol tins of water.</p>
+
+<p>While trudging along a narrow communication trench we were confronted
+by General Birdwood and his A.D.C. As was the general's
+cheery way, he stopped, and to the man in front (one "Stumpy" Stewart,
+a Cockney who had been in Australia for some time) he remarked, "Well,
+my man, how do you like this place?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stumpy" shot a quick glance at the general and then blurted out,
+"Well, sir, 't'aint the sort of plice you'd bring your Jane to, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>I can see "Birdie's" smile now.&mdash;<i>C. Barrett (Lieut., Aust. Flying
+Corps, then 6th Aust. Light Horse), Charing Cross, W.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Their Very Own Secret</h3>
+
+<p>We were on a forced march to a sector on Vimy Ridge. It was a
+wicked night&mdash;rain and thick fog&mdash;and during a halt several of our
+men got lost. I was ordered to round them up, but I also got hopelessly
+lost.</p>
+
+<p>I had been wandering about for some time when I came across one of
+our men&mdash;a young fellow from the Borough. We had both lost direction
+and could do nothing but wait.</p>
+
+<p>At last dawn broke and the fog lifted. We had not the slightest idea
+where we were, so I told my friend to reconnoitre a hill on the right and
+report to me if he saw anyone moving, while I did the same on the left.</p>
+
+<p>After a while I heard a cautious shout, and my companion came
+running towards me, breathless with excitement, and in great delight
+gasped, "Sergeant, sergeant! Germans! Germans! Fousands of 'em&mdash;and
+there's nobody but you and me knows anyfing abaht it!"&mdash;<i>G.
+Lidsell (late Devon Regt.), Brixton, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Window Cleaners Coming!</h3>
+
+<p>We were passing through Ypres, in 1915, in a Wolseley Signals tender
+when we came upon a battalion of the Middlesex on their way out
+to rest, very tired and very dirty.</p>
+
+<p>Our cable cart ladders, strapped to the sides of the lorry, caught the
+eyes of one wag. "Blimey, boys," he cried, "we're orl right nah; 'ere
+comes the blinkin' winder-cleaners."&mdash;<i>"Sigs.," Haslemere, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>First Blow</h3>
+
+<p>It was outside Albert, during the Somme attack, that I met a lone
+Army Service Corps wagon, laden with supplies. One of the horses
+was jibbing, and the driver, a diminutive Cockney, was at its head,
+urging it forward. As I approached I saw him deliberately kick the
+horse in the flank.</p>
+
+<p>I went up to the man and, taking out notebook and pencil, asked
+him for his name, number, and unit, at the same time remonstrating
+with him severely.</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't doin' 'im no 'arm," pleaded the man; "I've only got my
+gum-boots on, and, besides, 'e kicked me first."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i130.jpg" width="600" height="406" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"An' besides, he kicked me first."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I tore up my entry, mounted my motor-cycle, and left an injured-looking
+driver rubbing a sore shin.&mdash;<i>R. D. Blackman (Capt., R.A.F.),
+118 Abbey Road, St. John's Wood, N.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>M.M. (Mounted Marine)</h3>
+
+<p>After riding for several hours one wet, windy, and miserable night,
+with everyone soaked to the skin and fed up generally, we were
+halted in a field which, owing to the heavy rain, was more like a lake.</p>
+
+<p>On receiving the order to dismount and loosen girths, one of our
+number remained mounted and was busy flashing a small torch on the
+water when the sergeant, not too gently, inquired, "Why the dickens are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+you still mounted, and what the deuce are you looking for anyway?"
+To which a Cockney voice replied, "Blimey, sergeant, where's the
+landing stage?"&mdash;<i>"Jimmy" (late Essex Yeomanry).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His German 'Arp</h3>
+
+<p>Having been relieved, after our advance at Loos in 1915, we were
+making our way back at night.</p>
+
+<p>We had to pass through the German barbed wire, which had tins tied
+to it so that it rattled if anyone tried to pass it.</p>
+
+<p>Our sergeant got entangled in it and caused a lot of noise, whereupon
+a Cockney said: "You're orl right on the old banjo, sergeant, but when
+it comes to the German 'arp you're a blinkin' washaht."&mdash;<i>W. Barnes,
+M.M. (late 1st Bn. K.R.R.C.), 63 Streatfeild Avenue, East Ham.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i131.jpg" width="600" height="590" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"When it comes to the German 'arp you're a washaht."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jack went a-Riding</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1916 we were on outpost duty at a place called Ayun
+Musa, about four miles east of Suez.</p>
+
+<p>One day a British monitor arrived in the Gulf of Suez, and we were
+invited to spend an hour on board as the sailors' guests. The next day
+the sailors came ashore and were our guests.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 511px;">
+<img src="images/i132.jpg" width="511" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Don't ask me&mdash;ask the blinkin' 'oss."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After seeing the canteen most of them were anxious for a ride on a
+horse. So we saddled a few horses and helped our guests to mount.
+Every horse chose a different direction in the desert.</p>
+
+<p>One of the sailors was a Cockney. He picked a fairly fresh mount,
+which soon "got away" with him. He lost his reins and hung round
+the animal's neck for dear life as it went at full gallop right through the
+Camp Commandant's quarters.</p>
+
+<p>Hearing the commotion, the Commandant put his head out of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+bivouac and shouted, "What the dickens do you mean galloping through
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>Back came the retort, "Don't ask me&mdash;ask the blinkin' 'oss."&mdash;<i>H. F.
+Montgomery (late H.A.C.), 33 Cavenham Gardens, Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bitter Memories</h3>
+
+<p>During an attack near Beer-Sheba, Palestine, our regiment had
+been without water for over twenty-four hours. We were suffering
+very badly, as the heat was intense. Most of us had swollen tongues
+and lips and were hardly able to speak, but the company humorist, a
+Cockney, was able to mutter, "Don't it make you mad to fink of the
+times you left the barf tap running?"&mdash;<i>H. Owen (late Queen's Royal
+West Surrey Regt.), 18 Edgwarebury Gardens, Edgware, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Tommy "Surrounded" Them</h3>
+
+<p>It was in July 1916. The Somme Battle had just begun. The
+troops in front of us had gone over the top and were pushing forward.
+We were in support and had just taken over the old front line.</p>
+
+<p>Just on our right was a road leading up and through the German lines.
+Looking up this road we saw a small squad strolling towards us. It was
+composed of four Germans under the care of a London Tommy who was
+strolling along, with his rifle under his arm, like a gamekeeper. It made
+quite a nice picture.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached us one of our young officers shouted out: "Are
+you looking for the hounds?"</p>
+
+<p>Then the Cockney started: "Blimey, I don't know abaht looking for
+'ounds. I got four of 'em 'ere&mdash;and now I got 'em I don't know where
+to dump 'em."</p>
+
+<p>The officer said: "Where did you find them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I surrounded 'em, sir," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>Our officer said: "You had better leave them here for the time being."</p>
+
+<p>"Right-o, sir," replied the Cockney. "You hang on to 'em until I
+come back. I'm going up the road to get some more. There's fahsends
+of 'em up there."&mdash;<i>R. G. Williams, 30 Dean Cottages, Hanworth Road,
+Hampton, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Shell-holes and Southend</h3>
+
+<p>My pal (a Battersea boy) and I were two of a draft in 1916 transferred
+from the K.R.R.s to the R.I.R.s. On the first night in the trenches
+we were detailed for listening post. My pal said: "That's good. I'll
+be able to tell father what No Man's Land is like, as he asked me."</p>
+
+<p>After we had spent what was to me a nerve-wracking experience in
+the mud of a shell-hole, I asked him what he was going to tell his father.
+He said: "It's like Southend at low tide on the fifth of November."&mdash;<i>F.
+Tuohey (late 14th Batt. R.I.R.), 31 Winchester Road, Edmonton.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Make Me a Good 'Orse"</h3>
+
+<p>Having come out of action, we lay behind the line waiting for reinforcements
+of men and horses. The horses arrived, and I went out
+to see what they were like.</p>
+
+<p>I was surprised to see a Cockney, who was a good groom, having trouble
+in grooming one of the new horses. Every time he put the brush between
+its forelegs the animal went down on its knees.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i134.jpg" width="600" height="495" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Gawd bless farver an' make me a good 'orse."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>At last in desperation the Cockney stepped back, and gazing at the
+horse still on its knees, said: "Go on, yer long-faced blighter. 'Gawd
+bless muvver. Gawd bless farver, an' make me a good 'orse.'"&mdash;<i>Charles
+Gibbons (late 3rd Cavalry Brigade), 131 Grove Street, Deptford, S.E.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Lost Gumboot</h3>
+
+<p>An N.C.O. in the Engineers, I was guiding a party of about seventy
+Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regt.) through a trench system
+between Cambrin, near Loos, and the front line. About half-way the
+trenches were in many places knee-deep in mud. It was about 2 a.m.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+and shelling made things far from pleasant. Then word came up that
+we had lost touch with the tail-end of the party, and a halt was called,
+most of us standing in mud two feet deep.</p>
+
+<p>The officer in charge sent a message back asking why the tail-end had
+failed to keep up. The reply came back in due course: "Man lost his
+gumboot in the mud." The officer, becoming annoyed at the delay,
+sent back the message: "Who's the fool who lost his gumboot?"</p>
+
+<p>I heard the message receding into the distance with the words "fool"
+"gumboot" preceded by increasingly lurid adjectives. In about three
+or four minutes I heard the answer being passed up, getting louder and
+louder: "Charlie Chaplin," "<span class="smcap">Charlie Chaplin</span>," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN."
+Even our sorely-tried officer had to laugh.&mdash;<i>P. Higson,
+Lancashire.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Compree 'Sloshy'?"</h3>
+
+<p>During one of the Passchendaele advances in 1917 my battery was
+situated astride a board roadway leading over the ridge. After this
+particular show was over I happened to be in the telephone dug-out
+when prisoners started coming back.</p>
+
+<p>One weary little lance-jack in a London regiment arrived in charge
+of an enormous, spectacled, solemn-looking Fritz. As he reached the
+battery position he paused to rest and look at the guns.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning against the side of the dug-out he produced a cigarette end
+and, lighting it, proceeded to make conversation with his charge which,
+being out of sight, I was privileged to overhear.</p>
+
+<p>"Ain't 'arf blinkin' sloshy 'ere, ain't it, Fritz? Compree sloshy?"
+No reply.</p>
+
+<p>He tried again. "Got a cushy job these 'ere artillery blokes, ain't
+they? Compree cushy?" Still no answer.</p>
+
+<p>He made a third attempt. "S'pose you're abart fed up with this
+blinkin' guerre. Compree guerre?" Again the stony, uncomprehending
+silence; and then:</p>
+
+<p>"Garn, yer don't know nuffink, yer don't, yer ignorant blighter. Say
+another blinkin' word and I'll knock yer blinkin' block orf."&mdash;<i>A. E.
+Joyce (late R.F.A.), Swallowcroft, Broxbourne Road, Orpington, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Looking-Glass Luck</h3>
+
+<p>During the second battle of Ypres, in May 1915, I was attached to
+the 1st Cavalry Brigade, and after a terrific strafing from Fritz
+there was a brief lull, which gave us a chance for a "wash and brush up."</p>
+
+<p>While we were indulging in the luxury of a shave, a Cockney trooper
+dropped his bit of looking-glass.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing that it was broken I casually remarked, "Bad luck for seven
+years." And the reply I got was, "If I live seven years to 'ave bad luck
+it'll be blinking good luck."&mdash;<i>J. Tucker, 46 Langton Road, Brixton, S.W.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mine that was His</h3>
+
+<p>Just before our big push in August 1918 we were resting in "Tank
+Wood." The place was dotted with shell holes, one of which was
+filled with rather clean water, evidently from a nearby spring. A board
+at the edge of this hole bore the word "<span class="smcap">Mine</span>," so we gave it a wide
+berth.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine our surprise when later we saw "Tich," a lad from the Old
+Kent Road, bathing in the water. One of our men yelled, "Hi, Tich,
+carn't yer read?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yus," replied "Tich," "don't yer fink a bloke can read 'is own
+writing?"&mdash;<i>Walter F. Brooks (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 141 Cavendish
+Road, Highams Park, E.4.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Geography" Hour</h3>
+
+<p>Just before going over the top a private, wishing to appear as cheerful
+as possible, turned to his platoon sergeant and said: "I suppose
+we will be making history in a few minutes, sergeant?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied the sergeant: "our first objective is about 250 yards
+straight to the front. What you have to do is to get from here to there
+as quickly as your legs will carry you. We are making geography this
+morning, my lad!"&mdash;<i>"Arras," London, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>To the General, About the Colonel</h3>
+
+<p>The colonel of the regiment, gifted with the resonant voice of a dare-devil
+leader, was highly esteemed for his rigid sense of duty, especially
+in the presence of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>The Germans had been troubling us a lot with gas, and this kept everyone
+on the <i>qui vive</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Accompanied by the colonel, the divisional commander was making
+his usual inspection of the front line intent on the alertness of sentries.</p>
+
+<p>In one fire-bay the colonel stopped to give instructions regarding a
+ventilating machine which had been used to keep the trench clear of gas
+after each attack.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the general moved on towards the other end of the fire-bay,
+where the sentry, fresh out from the reserve battalion recruited in
+Bermondsey, stood with his eyes glued to the periscope.</p>
+
+<p>A natural impulse of the general as he noticed the weather-vane on the
+parapet was to test the sentry's intelligence on "gas attack by the
+enemy," so as he approached the soldier he addressed him in a genial
+and confiding manner: "Well, my lad, and how's the wind blowing this
+morning?"</p>
+
+<p>Welcoming a little respite, as he thought, from periscope strain, by
+way of a short "chin-wag" with one or other of his pals, the unsuspecting
+sentry rubbed his hands gleefully together as he turned round with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+reply: "'Taint 'arf so dusty arter all." Then, suddenly through the
+corner of his eye he caught sight of his colonel at the other end of the
+fire-bay. His face instantly changed its cheerful aspect as he breathlessly
+whispered to his inquirer, "Lumme, the ole man! 'Ere, mate,
+buzz orf quick&mdash;a-a-an' don't let 'im cop yer a-talkin' to the sentry on
+dooty, or Jerry's barrage will be a washaht when the Big Noise starts
+<i>'is</i> fireworks!"&mdash;<i>William St. John Spencer (late East Surrey Regiment),
+"Roydsmoor," Arneson Road, East Molesey, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bow Bells&mdash;1917 Style</h3>
+
+<p>We were going up the line at Bullecourt in April 1917. I have
+rather bad eyesight and my glasses had been smashed. Being
+the last of the file I lost touch with the others and had no idea where I
+was. However, I stumbled on, and eventually reached the front line.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 592px;">
+<img src="images/i137.jpg" width="592" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Take those bells orf."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Upon the ground were some empty petrol cans tied up ready to be
+taken down to be filled with water. I tripped up amongst these and
+created an awful din, whereupon an angry voice came from out the gloom.&mdash;"I
+don't know 'oo or wot the dickens you are, but for 'eaven's sake
+take those bells orf!"&mdash;<i>W. G. Root (late 12th London Regt.), 24 Harrington
+Square, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"The Awfentic Gramerphone!"</h3>
+
+<p>This happened on that wicked March 21, 1918.</p>
+
+<p>During a lull in the scrapping, a lone German wandered too near,
+and we collared him. He was handed over to Alf, our Cockney cookie.</p>
+
+<p>Things got blacker for us. We could see Germans strung out in front
+of us and on both flanks&mdash;Germans and machine guns everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, boys," said our major, "looks as if it's all up with us, doesn't
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's this abaht it, sir," said Alf, pointing to his prisoner; "when
+it comes to chuckin' our 'ands in, we've got the awfentic gramerphone
+to yell 'Kamerad!'&mdash;ain't we?"&mdash;<i>C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Muffin Man</h3>
+
+<p>Two companies of a London regiment were relieving each other on
+a quiet part of the line, late in the evening of a dismal sort of day.
+The members of the ingoing company were carrying sheets of corrugated
+iron on their heads for the purpose of strengthening their position.</p>
+
+<p>A member of the outgoing company, observing a pal of his with one of
+these sheets on his head, bawled out: "'Ullo, 'Arry, what'cher doing of?"
+to which came the laconic reply: "Selling muffins, but I've lost me
+blinkin' bell."&mdash;<i>H. O. Harries, 85 Seymour Road, Harringay, N.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Holiday Resort</h3>
+
+<p>Early in October 1915 a half company of the 3rd Middlesex
+Regiment occupied a front-line sector at Givenchy, known as the
+"Duck's Bill," which ran into the German line.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of our proximity to the enemy our chief annoyance was
+occasional sniping, machine gunning, rifle grenades, and liquid fire, for
+the area had been given over mainly to mining and counter-mining.</p>
+
+<p>It was expected that the "Duck's Bill" would "go up" at any moment,
+so it was decided to leave only one officer in charge, with instructions
+to keep every available man engaged either in furiously tunnelling
+towards the enemy to counter their efforts, or in repairing our breast-works,
+which had been seriously damaged in a German attack.</p>
+
+<p>My men worked like Trojans on a most tiring, muddy, and gruesome
+task.</p>
+
+<p>At last we were relieved by the Leicestershire Regiment, and one of
+my men, on being asked by his Leicester relief what the place was like,
+replied: "Well, 'ow d'yer spend yer 'olidies, in the country or at the
+seaside? 'Cos yer gits both 'ere as yer pleases: rabbit 'unting (pointing
+to the tunnelling process) and sand castle building (indicating the breastwork
+repairs), wiv fireworks in the evening."</p>
+
+<p>The Leicesters, alas! "went up" that evening.&mdash;<i>S. H. Flood (late
+Middlesex Regiment and M.G.C.), "Prestonville," Maidstone Road,
+Chatham, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The "Tich" Touch</h3>
+
+<p>We had survived the landing operations at Murmansk, in North
+Russia, and each company had received a number of sets of skis,
+which are very awkward things to manage until you get used to them.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion when we were practising, a "son of London," after
+repeated tumbles, remarked to his pals, who were also getting some
+"ups and downs": "Fancy seein' me dahn Poplar way wiv these
+fings on; my little old bunch of trouble would say, 'What's 'e trying
+ter do nah? Cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance?'"&mdash;<i>C. H.
+Mitchell (late Staff-Sergt. A.S.C.), 7 Kingsholm Gardens, Eltham, S.E.9.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i139.jpg" width="600" height="551" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Trying to cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance."</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>Smart Men All</h3>
+
+<p>One of the usual orders had come through to my battalion of the
+Middlesex Regiment for a number of men to be detailed for extra
+regimental duties which would be likely to take them away from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+battalion for a considerable time. The company I commanded had to
+provide twenty men.</p>
+
+<p>It was a golden opportunity to make a selection of those men whose
+physical infirmities were more evident than the stoutness of their hearts.
+Together with my company sergeant-major I compiled a list of those
+who could best be spared from the trenches, and the following day they
+were paraded for inspection before moving off.</p>
+
+<p>As I approached, one of the men who had been summing up his comrades
+and evidently realised the reason for their selection, remarked in a
+very audible Cockney whisper, "What I says is, if you was to search
+the 'ole of Norvern France you wouldn't find a smarter body o' men!"&mdash;<i>"Nobby"
+(late Captain, Middlesex Regiment), Potters Bar, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"You'd Pay a Tanner at the Zoo!"</h3>
+
+<p>During the floods in Palestine in 1917 I had to be sent down the
+line with an attack of malaria. Owing to the roads being deep in
+water, I was strapped in an iron chair pannier on the back of a camel.
+My sick companion, who balanced me on the other side of the camel, was
+a member of the London Regiment affectionately known as the Hackney
+Gurkhas.</p>
+
+<p>The Johnnie patiently trudged through the water leading the camel,
+and kept up the cry of "Ish! Ish!" as it almost slipped down at every
+step.</p>
+
+<p>I was feeling pretty bad with the swaying, and said to my companion,
+"Isn't this the limit?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shurrup, mate!" he replied. "Yer don't know when yer well orf.
+You'd 'ave to pay a tanner for this at the Zoo!"&mdash;<i>Frederick T. Fitch
+(late 1/5th Batt. Norfolk Regt.), The Gordon Boys' Home, West End,
+Woking, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Smoking Without Cigarettes</h3>
+
+<p>Most ex-soldiers will remember the dreary monotony of "going
+through the motions" of every movement in rifle exercises.</p>
+
+<p>We had just evacuated our position on the night of December 4-5,
+1917, at Cambrai, after the German counter-attack, and, after withstanding
+several days' severe battering both by the enemy and the elements,
+were staggering along, tired and frozen and hungry, and generally fed up.</p>
+
+<p>When we were deemed to be sufficiently far from the danger zone the
+order was given to allow the men to smoke. As practically everyone in
+the battalion had been without cigarettes or tobacco for some days the
+permission seemed to be wasted. But I passed the word down, "'C'
+Company, the men may smoke," to be immediately taken up by a North
+Londoner: "Yus, and if you ain't got no fags you can go through the
+motions."&mdash;<i>H. H. Morris, M.C. (late Lieut., 16th Middlesex Regt.), 10
+Herbert Street, Malden Road, N.W.5.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Expensive Light</h3>
+
+<p>Winter 1915, at Wieltje, on the St. Jean Road. We were on
+listening post in a shell-hole in No Man's Land, and the night was
+black.</p>
+
+<p>Without any warning, my Cockney pal Nobby threw a bomb towards
+the German trench, and immediately Fritz sent up dozens of Verey lights.
+I turned anxiously to Nobby and asked, "What is it? Did you spot
+anything?" and was astonished when he replied, "I wanted ter know
+the time, and I couldn't see me
+blinkin' watch in the dark."&mdash;<i>E. W.
+Fellows, M.M. (late 6th Battn.
+D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace Road, Clapton,
+E.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Modern Conveniences</h3>
+
+<p>A Tommy plugging it along
+the Arras-Doullens road in
+the pouring rain. "Ole Bill," the
+omnibus, laden with Cockneys
+going towards the line, overtakes
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Tommy: "Sitting room inside,
+mate?"</p>
+
+<p>Cockney on Bus: "No, but
+there's a barf-room upstairs!"&mdash;<i>George
+T. Coles (ex-Lieut., R.A.F.),
+17 Glebe Crescent, Hendon, N.W.4.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 249px;">
+<img src="images/i141.jpg" width="249" height="400" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"There's a barf-room upstairs!"</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<h3>The Trench Fleet</h3>
+
+<p>A certain section of the
+line, just in front of Levantie,
+being a comparatively peaceful
+and quiet spot, was held by a
+series of posts at intervals of
+anything up to three hundred
+yards, which made the task of
+bringing up rations an unhappy one, especially as the trenches in this
+sector always contained about four feet of water.</p>
+
+<p>One November night a miserable ration party was wading through
+the thin slimy mud. The sentry at the top of the communication trench,
+hearing the grousing, splashing, and clanking of tins, and knowing full
+well who was approaching, issued the usual challenge, as per Army
+Orders: "'Alt! 'Oo goes there?"</p>
+
+<p>Out of the darkness came the reply, in a weary voice: "Admiral
+Jellicoe an' 'is blinkin' fleet."&mdash;<i>W. L. de Groot (late Lieut., 5th West
+Yorks Regt.), 17 Wentworth Road, Golders Green, N.W.11.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Necessary Stimulant</h3>
+
+<p>On the St. Quentin front in 1917 we were relieved by the French
+Artillery. We watched with rather critical eyes their guns going
+in, and, best of all, their observation balloon going up.</p>
+
+<p>The ascent of this balloon was, to say the least, spasmodic. First it
+went up about a hundred feet, then came down, then a little higher and
+down again.</p>
+
+<p>This was repeated several times, until at last the car was brought to
+the ground and the observer got out. He was handed a packet, then
+hastily returned, and up the balloon went for good. Then I heard a
+Cockney voice beside me in explanatory tones: "There! I noo wot it
+was all the time. 'E'd forgotten his vin blong!"&mdash;<i>Ernest E. Homewood
+(late 1st London Heavy Battery), 13 Park Avenue, Willesden Green, N.W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Traffic Problem</h3>
+
+<p>A dark cloudy night in front of Lens, two patrols of the 19th London
+Regt., one led by Lieut. R&mdash;&mdash;, the other by Corporal B&mdash;&mdash;, were
+crawling along the barbed wire entanglements in No Man's Land,
+towards each other.</p>
+
+<p>Two tin hats met with a clang, which at once drew the attention of
+Fritz.</p>
+
+<p>Lieut. R&mdash;&mdash; sat back in the mud, while snipers' and machine-gun
+bullets whistled past, and in a cool voice said, "Why don't you ring your
+perishing bell?"&mdash;<i>L. C. Pryke (late 19th London Regt.), "Broughdale,"
+Rochford Avenue, Rochford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Scots, Read This!</h3>
+
+<p>On the afternoon of Christmas Day, 1915, three pipers, of whom I was
+one, went into the trenches at Loos, and after playing at our Battalion
+H.Q., proceeded to the front line, where we played some selections for
+the benefit of the Germans, whose trenches were very close at this point.
+Probably thinking that an attack was imminent, they sent up innumerable
+Verey lights, but, deciding later that we had no such intention, they
+responded by singing and playing on mouth-organs.</p>
+
+<p>Having finished our performance, my friends and I proceeded on our
+way back, and presently, passing some men of another regiment, were
+asked by one of them: "Was that you playin' them bloomin' toobs?"
+We admitted it.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ear that, Joe?" he remarked to his pal. "These blokes 'ave bin
+givin' the 'Uns a toon."</p>
+
+<p>"Serve 'em right," said Joe, "they started the blinkin' war."&mdash;<i>Robert
+Donald Marshall (late Piper, 1st Bn. London Scottish), 83 Cranley Drive,
+Ilford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Met His Match</h3>
+
+<p>A London Tommy was standing near the leave boat at Calais,
+which had just brought him back to France on his way to the firing
+line. It was raining, and he was trying to get a damp cigarette to draw.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a French soldier approached him with an unlighted cigarette
+in his hand, and, pointing to Tommy's cigarette, held out his hand and
+exclaimed "Allumette?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 493px;">
+<img src="images/i143.jpg" width="493" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">Poilu: "Allumette?"<br />
+Tommy: "'Allo, mate." (Shakes.)</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Tommy sadly shook hands and replied "Allo, Mate."&mdash;<i>A. J. Fairer,
+Mirigama, Red Down Road, Coulsdon, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why Jerry was "Clinked"</h3>
+
+<p>On August 8, 1918, as our battery began the long trail which landed
+us in Cologne before Christmas we met a military policeman who had
+in his charge three very dejected-looking German prisoners. "Brummy,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+our battery humorist, shouted to the red-cap: "'Ullo, Bobby, what are
+yer clinkin' those poor old blokes for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Creatin' a disturbance on the Western Front," replied the red-cap.&mdash;<i>Wm.
+G. Sheppard (late Sergeant, 24th Siege Bty., R.A.), 50 Benares Road,
+Plumstead, S.E.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Stick-in-the-Mud</h3>
+
+<p>We were in reserve at Roclincourt in February 1917, and about
+twenty men were detailed to carry rations to the front line. The
+trenches were knee-deep in mud.</p>
+
+<p>After traversing about two hundred yards of communication trench
+we struck a particularly thick, clayey patch, and every few yards the
+order "Halt in front!" was passed from the rear.</p>
+
+<p>The corporal leading the men got very annoyed at the all-too-frequent
+halts. He passed the word back, "What's the matter?" The reply
+was, "Shorty's in the mud, and we can't get 'im out."</p>
+
+<p>Waiting a few minutes, the corporal again passed a message back:
+"Haven't you got him out yet? How long are you going to be?"
+Reply came from the rear in a Cockney voice: "'Eaven knows! There's
+only 'is ears showin'."&mdash;<i>G. Kay, 162 Devonshire Avenue, Southsea, Hants.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"If <i>That</i> can stick it, <i>I</i> can!"</h3>
+
+<p>Owing to the forced marching during the retreat from Mons, men
+would fall out by the roadside and, after a rest, carry on again.</p>
+
+<p>One old soldier, "Buster" Smith, was lying down puffing and gasping
+when up rode an officer mounted upon an old horse that he had found
+straying.</p>
+
+<p>Going up to "Buster" the officer asked him if he thought he could
+"stick it."</p>
+
+<p>"Buster" looked up at the officer and then, eyeing the horse, said:
+"If <i>that</i> can stick it, <i>I</i> can," and, getting up, he resumed marching.&mdash;<i>E.
+Barwick, 19 St. Peter's Street, Hackney Road, E.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wheeling a Mule</h3>
+
+<p>In November '15 we were relieved in the early hours of the morning.</p>
+
+<p>It had been raining, raining most of the time we were in the trenches,
+and so we were more or less wet through and covered in mud when we
+came out for a few days' rest.</p>
+
+<p>About two or three kilometres from Béthune we were all weary and
+fed-up with marching. Scarcely a word was spoken until we came
+across an Engineer leading a mule with a roll of telephone wire coiled
+round a wheel on its back. The mule looked as fed-up as we were, and
+a Cockney in our platoon shouted out, "Blimey, mate, if you're goin'
+much furver wiv the old 'oss yer'll 'ave to turn it on its back and wheel
+it."&mdash;<i>W. S. (late Coldstream Guards), Chelsea, S.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Three Brace of Braces</h3>
+
+<p>While I was serving with the 58th Siege Battery at Carnoy, on the
+Somme, in 1916, a young Cockney of the 29th Division was discovered
+walking in front of three German prisoners. Over his shoulders
+he had three pairs of braces.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i145.jpg" width="600" height="452" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... while I got their 'harness' they can't get up to any mischief."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A wag asked him if he wanted to sell them, and his reply was: "No,
+these Fritzies gets 'em back when they gets to the cage. But while I
+got their 'harness' they can't get up to any mischief."&mdash;<i>E. Brinkman,
+16 Hornsey Street, Holloway Road, N.7.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Bow Bells" Warning</h3>
+
+<p>At the beginning of March 1918, near Flesquières, we captured a
+number of prisoners, some of whom were put in the charge of
+"Nipper," a native of Limehouse.</p>
+
+<p>I heard him address them as follows: "Nah, then, if yer wants a fag
+yer can have one, but, blimey, if yer starts any capers, I'll knock 'Bow
+Bells' aht of yer Stepney Church."&mdash;<i>J. Barlow (20th London Regt.),
+18 Roding Lane, Buckhurst Hill, Essex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"'Ave a Sniff"</h3>
+
+<p>My father tells of a raw individual from London Town who had
+aroused great wrath by having within a space of an hour given
+two false alarms for gas. After the second error everyone was just
+drowsing off again when a figure cautiously put his head inside the
+dug-out, and hoarsely said: "'Ere, sergeant, yer might come and 'ave
+a sniff."&mdash;<i>R. Purser, St. Oama, Vista Road, Wickford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Dirt Track</h3>
+
+<p>While my regiment was in support at Ecurie, near Arras, I was
+detailed to take an urgent message to B.H.Q.</p>
+
+<p>I mounted a motor-cycle and started on my way, but I hadn't gone
+far when a shell burst right in my path and made a huge crater, into
+which I slipped. After going round the inside rim twice at about twenty-five
+miles an hour, I landed in the mud at the bottom. Pulling myself
+clear of the cycle, I saw two fellows looking down and laughing at me.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny, isn't it?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yus, matey, thought it was Sanger's Circus. Where's the girl in the
+tights wot rides the 'orses?"</p>
+
+<p>Words failed me.&mdash;<i>London Yeomanry, Brixton, S.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Babylon and Bully</h3>
+
+<p>After a dismal trek across the mud of Mespot, my batman and I
+arrived at the ruins of Babylon. As I sat by the river under the
+trees, and gazed upon the stupendous ruins of the one-time mightiest
+city in the world, I thought of the words of the old Psalm&mdash;"By the
+waters of Babylon we sat down and wept&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>And this was the actual spot!</p>
+
+<p>Moved by my thoughts, I turned to my batman and said, "By Jove,
+just think. This is really <i>Babylon</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," he replied, "but I'm a-wonderin' 'ow I'm goin' to do your
+bully beef up to-night to make a change like."&mdash;<i>W. L. Lamb (late R.E.,
+M.E.F.), "Sunnings," Sidley, Bexhill-on-Sea.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Twice Nightly</h3>
+
+<p>An attack was expected, and some men were kept in reserve in an
+underground excavation more closely resembling a tunnel than a
+trench.</p>
+
+<p>After about twenty hours' waiting in knee-deep mud and freezing cold,
+they were relieved by another group.</p>
+
+<p>As they were filing out one of the relief party said to one of those coming
+out, "Who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Oo are we?" came the reply. "Cahn't yer see we're the fust
+'ouse comin' aht o' the pit?"&mdash;<i>K. Haddon, 379 Rotherhithe New Road,
+North Camberwell, S.E.16.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In Shining Armour</h3>
+
+<p>A horrible wet night on the Locre-Dranoutre Road in 1914. A
+narrow strip of pavé road and, on either side, mud of a real Flanders
+consistency.</p>
+
+<p>I was on my lawful occasions in a car, which was following a long
+supply column of five-ton lorries.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i147.jpg" width="600" height="462" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ere, ally off the perishin' pavé, you knight in shinin' armour."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I need scarcely say that the car did not try to forsake the comparative
+security of the pavé, but when a check of about a quarter of an hour
+occurred, I got down from the car and stumbled through the pouring rain,
+well above the boot-tops in mud, to the head of the column.</p>
+
+<p>Impasse barely describes the condition of things, for immediately
+facing the leading lorry was a squadron of French Cuirassiers, complete
+with "tin bellies" and helmets with horse-hair trimmings.</p>
+
+<p>This squadron was in command of a very haughty French captain, who
+seemed, in the light of the lorry's head-lamps, to have a bigger cuirass
+and helmet than his men.</p>
+
+<p>He was faced by a diminutive sergeant of the A.S.C., wet through, fed
+up, but complete with cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>Neither understood the other's language, but it was quite obvious that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+neither would leave the pavé for the mud. Did the sergeant wring his
+hands or say to the officer, "Mon Capitaine, je vous en prie, etc."?
+He did not. He merely stood there, and, removing his cigarette from
+his mouth, uttered these immortal words:</p>
+
+<p>"'Ere, ally off the perishing pavé, you son of a knight in shinin'
+armour!"</p>
+
+<p>And, believe me or believe me not, that is what the haughty one and
+his men did.&mdash;<i>"The Ancient Mariner," Sutton, Surrey.
+</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"A Blinkin' Paper-Chase?"</h3>
+
+<p>One pitch black rainy night I was bringing up the rear of a party
+engaged in carrying up the line a number of trench mortar bombs
+known as "toffee-apples."</p>
+
+<p>We had become badly tailed-off during our progress through a maze
+of communication trenches knee-deep in mud, and as I staggered at last
+into the support trench with my load I spied a solitary individual standing
+on the fire-step gazing over the parapet.</p>
+
+<p>"Seen any Queen's pass this way?" I inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," he replied, apparently fed-up with the constant repetition
+of the same question, "wot 'ave you blokes got on to-night&mdash;-a blinkin'
+piper-chise?"&mdash;<i>W. H. Blakeman (late Sergt., Queen's R.W.S. Regt.),
+22 Shorts Road, Carshalton.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Biscuits&mdash;Another Point of View</h3>
+
+<p>In April 1915 my battalion was on the way up to take over a line of
+"grouse-butts"&mdash;there were no continuous trenches&mdash;in front of a
+pleasure resort by the name of Festubert.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived at Gore, a couple of miles or so from the line, we ran into
+some transport that had got thoroughly tied up, and had a wait of about
+half-an-hour while the joy-riders sorted themselves out. It was pitch
+dark and raining hard, and the occasional spot of confetti that came over
+added very little to the general enjoyment.</p>
+
+<p>As I moved up and down my platoon, the usual profane but humorous
+grousing was in full spate. At that time the ration arrangements were
+not so well organised as they afterwards became, and for some weeks the
+bulk of our banquets had consisted of bully and remarkably hard and
+unpalatable biscuits. The latter were a particularly sore point with the
+troops.</p>
+
+<p>As I listened, one rifleman held forth on the subject. "No blinkin'
+bread for five blinkin' weeks," he wound up&mdash;"nothin' but blinkin'
+biscuits that taste like sawdust an' break every tooth in yer perishin'
+'ed. 'Ow the 'ell do they expect yer to fight on stuff like that?"
+"Whatcher grousin' about?" drawled another weary voice. "Dawgs
+<i>lives</i> on biscuits, and they can fight like 'ell!"&mdash;<i>S. B. Skevington (late
+Major, 1st London Irish Rifles), 10 Berkeley Street, W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Bird Bath</h3>
+
+<p>A battalion of the Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment)
+was in support, and a private was endeavouring to wash himself
+as thoroughly as possible with about a pint of water in a mess-tin.</p>
+
+<p>A kindly disposed staff officer happened to come along, and seeing the
+man thus engaged, said, "Having a wash, my man?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i149.jpg" width="600" height="456" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Wish I was a blinkin' canary: I could have a bath then."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Back came the reply, "Yus, and I wish I was a blinkin' canary.
+Could have a bath then."&mdash;<i>R. G. Scarborough, 89 Tennyson Avenue,
+New Maiden, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Ducking 'em&mdash;-then Nursing 'em</h3>
+
+<p>After the Cambrai affair of November 1917 our company came
+out of the line, but we had to salvage some very large and heavy
+shells.</p>
+
+<p>We had been carrying the shells in our arms for about an hour when
+I heard a fed-up Cockney turn to the sergeant and say: "'Ere 'ave I
+been duckin' me nut for years from these blinkin' fings&mdash;-blimey, and
+nah I'm nursin' 'em!"&mdash;-<i>Rfn. Elliott (late 17th K.R.R.C.), 9 Leghorn Road,
+Harlesden, N.W.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Salonika Rhapsody</h3>
+
+<p>Three of us were sitting by the support line on the Salonika front,
+conditions were fairly bad, rations were short and a mail was long
+overdue. We were fed-up. But the view across the Vardar Valley was
+some compensation.</p>
+
+<p>The wadis and plains, studded with bright flowers, the glistening river
+and the sun just setting behind the distant ridges and tinting the low
+clouds, combined to make a perfect picture. One of my pals, with a
+poetic temperament, rhapsodised on the scene for several minutes, and
+then asked our other mate what he thought. "Sooner see the blinkin'
+Old Kent Road!" was the answer of the peace-time costermonger.&mdash;<i>W.
+W. Wright, 24 Borthwick Road, E.15.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Ticklin' Tiddler</h3>
+
+<p>In January 1915, near Richebourg, I was one of a ration-party being
+led back to the front line by a lance-corporal. The front line was a
+system of breast-works surrounded by old disused trenches filled with
+seven feet or so of icy-cold water.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very dark moonless night, and near the line our leader called
+out to those in the breast-works to ask them where the bridge was.
+He was told to step off by the broken tree. He did so and slid into the
+murky depths&mdash;the wrong tree!</p>
+
+<p>We got him out and he stood on dry (?) land, shining with moisture,
+full of strange oaths and vowing vengeance on the lad who had misdirected
+him.</p>
+
+<p>At stand-down in the dawn (hours afterwards) he was sipping his tot
+of rum. He had had no chance of drying his clothes. I asked how he
+felt.</p>
+
+<p>"Fresh as a pansy, mate," was his reply. "Won'erful 'ow a cold
+plunge bucks yer up! Blimey, I feel as if I could push a leave train
+from 'ere to the base. 'Ere, put yer 'and dahn my tunic and see if that's
+a tiddler ticklin' me back."&mdash;<i>F. J. Reidy (late 1st K.R.R.s), 119 Mayfair
+Avenue, Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Biscuits and Geometry</h3>
+
+<p>During a spell near St. Quentin our company existed chiefly on
+biscuits&mdash;much to the annoyance of one of our officers, who said he
+detested dogs' food.</p>
+
+<p>One evening he met the Cockney corporal who had just come up in
+charge of the ration party.</p>
+
+<p>Officer: "Any change to-night, corporal?"</p>
+
+<p>Corporal: "Yessir!"</p>
+
+<p>Officer: "Good! What have we got?"</p>
+
+<p>Corporal: "Rahnd 'uns instead of square 'uns, sir."&mdash;<i>R. Pitt (late
+M.G.C.), 54 Holland Park Avenue, W.11.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>All that was Wrong with the War</h3>
+
+<p>Taking up ammunition to the guns at Passchendaele Ridge, I
+met a few infantrymen carrying duckboards.</p>
+
+<p>My mule was rather in the way and so one of the infantrymen, who
+belonged to a London regiment, gave him a push with his duckboard.</p>
+
+<p>Naturally, the mule simply let out and kicked him into a shell-hole
+full of water.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i151.jpg" width="600" height="517" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... and that's mules."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>We got the unlucky fellow out, and his first action was to shake his fist
+at the mule and say: "There's only one thing I don't like in this blinking
+war and that's those perishin' mules!"&mdash;<i>H. E. Richards (R.F.A.),
+67 Topsham Road, Upper Tooting, S.W.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not a Single Cockney</h3>
+
+<p>In 1917, when we were acting as mobile artillery, we had halted by the
+roadside to water and feed our horses, and were just ready to move
+off when we were passed by a column of the Chinese Labour Corps, about
+2,000 of them.</p>
+
+<p>After they had all passed, a gunner from Clerkenwell said: "Would
+yer believe it? All that lot gorn by and I never reckernised a Townie!"&mdash;<i>C.
+Davis (late Sergeant, R.A., 3rd Cavalry Division), 7 Yew Tree
+Villas, Welling, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sanger's Circus on the Marne!</h3>
+
+<p>On the way from the Marne to the Aisne in September 1914 the
+5th Cavalry Brigade passed a column of Algerian native troops, who
+had been drawn up in a field to allow us to continue along the nearby
+road.</p>
+
+<p>The column had all the gaudy appearance of shop windows at Christmas.
+There were hooded vehicles with stars and crescents blazoned on them,
+drawn by bullocks, mules, and donkeys. The natives themselves were
+dressed, some in white robes and turbans, others in red "plus four"
+trousers and blue "Eton cut" jackets; and their red fezzes were adorned
+with stars and crescents. Altogether a picturesque sight, and one we did
+not expect to meet on the Western Front.</p>
+
+<p>On coming into view of this column, one of our lead drivers (from
+Bow) of a four-horse team drawing a pontoon wagon turned round to
+his wheel driver, and, pointing to the column with his whip, shouted,
+"Alf! Sanger's Circus!"&mdash;<i>H. W. Taylor (late R.E.), The Lodge, Radnor
+Works, Strawberry Vale, Twickenham.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Contemptible" Stuff</h3>
+
+<p>When the rumour reached us about a medal for the troops who went
+out at the beginning, a few of us were sitting in a dug-out outside
+Ypres discussing the news.</p>
+
+<p>"Mac" said: "I wonder if they'll give us anything else beside the
+medal?"</p>
+
+<p>Our Cockney, Alf, remarked: "You got a lot to say about this 'ere
+bloomin' 'gong' (medal); anybody 'd fink you was goin' ter git one."</p>
+
+<p>"I came out in September '14, any way," said Mac.</p>
+
+<p>Alf (very indignant): "Blimey, 'ark at 'im! You don't 'arf expect
+somefink, you don't. Why, the blinkin' war was 'arf over by then."&mdash;<i>J.
+F. Grey (late D.L.I, and R.A.O.C.), 247 Ducane Road, Shepherd's
+Bush, W.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Cockney on Horseback&mdash;-Just</h3>
+
+<p>We were going out to rest after about four months behind the guns
+at Ypres, and the drivers brought up spare horses for us to ride.
+One Cockney gunner was heard to say, "I can't ride; I've never rode an
+'orse in me life." We helped him to get mounted, but we had not gone
+far when Jerry started sending 'em over. So we started trotting. To
+see our Cockney friend hanging on with his arms round the horse's neck
+was quite a treat!</p>
+
+<p>However, we eventually got back to the horse lines where our hero,
+having fallen off, remarked: "Well, after that, I fink if ever I do get
+back to Blighty I'll always raise me 'at to an 'orse."&mdash;<i>A. Lepley (late
+R.F.A.), 133 Blackwell Buildings, Whitechapel, E.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Too Sociable Horse</h3>
+
+<p>We were asleep in our dug-out at Bray, on the Somme, in November
+1915. The dug-out was cut in the bank of a field where our horse
+lines were.</p>
+
+<p>One of the horses broke loose and, taking a fancy to our roof, which was
+made of brushwood and rushes, started eating it.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the roof gave way and the horse fell through, narrowly
+missing myself and my pal, who was also a Cockney.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i153.jpg" width="600" height="510" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"They want to come to bed wiv us."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After we had got over the shock my pal said, "Well, if that ain't the
+blinkin' latest. These long-eared blighters ain't satisfied with us looking
+after them&mdash;they want to come to bed with us."&mdash;<i>F. E. Snell (late 27th
+Brigade, R.F.A.), 22 Woodchester Street, Harrow Road, W.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>General Salute!</h3>
+
+<p>While "resting" at Bully-Grenay in the winter of 1916 I witnessed
+the following incident:</p>
+
+<p>Major-General &mdash;&mdash; and his A.D.C. were walking through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
+village when an elderly Cockney member of a Labour battalion (a typical
+London navvy) stumbled out of an estaminet. He almost collided with
+the general.</p>
+
+<p>Quickly pulling himself together and exclaiming "Blimey, the boss!"
+he gave a very non-military salute; but the general, tactfully ignoring
+his merry condition, had passed on.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his pal's attempts to restrain him, he overtook the general,
+shouting "I did serlute yer, didn't I, guv'nor?"</p>
+
+<p>To which the general hastily replied: "Yes, yes, my man!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the Cockney, "here's anuvver!"&mdash;<i>A. J. K. Davis (late
+20th London Regt., att. 73rd M.G.C.), Minnis Croft, Reculver Avenue,
+Birchington.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wipers-on-Sea</h3>
+
+<p>Scene, "Wipers"; Time, winter of 1917.</p>
+
+<p>A very miserable-looking R.F.A. driver, wet to the skin, is riding
+a very weary mule through the rain.</p>
+
+<p>Voice from passing infantryman, in the unmistakable accent of Bow
+Bells: "Where y' goin', mate? Pier an' back?"&mdash;<i>A. Gelli (late H.A.C.),
+27 Langdon Park Road, Highgate, N.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Rescued His Shirt</h3>
+
+<p>During the latter stages of the war, with the enemy in full retreat,
+supply columns and stores were in most cases left far behind. Those
+in the advance columns, when marching through occupied villages, often
+"won" articles of underclothing to make up for deficiencies.</p>
+
+<p>Camberwell Alf had a couple of striped "civvy" shirts, and had lent a
+less fortunate battery chum one of these on the understanding that it
+would be returned in due course. The same evening the battery was
+crossing a pontoon bridge when a mule became frightened at the oscillation
+of the wooden structure, reared wildly, and pitched its rider over
+the canvas screen into the river.</p>
+
+<p>Camberwell Alf immediately plunged into the water and rescued his
+unfortunate chum after a great struggle.</p>
+
+<p>Later the rescued one addressed his rescuer: "Thank yer, Alf, mate."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't yer 'mate' me, yer blinkin' perisher!" Alf replied. "Wot
+the 'ell d'yer mean by muckin' abaht in the pahny (water) wiv my shirt
+on?"&mdash;<i>J. H. Hartnoll (late 30th Div. Artillery), 1 Durning Road, Upper
+Norwood, S.E.19.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Smile from the Prince</h3>
+
+<p>One morning towards the end of May 1915, just before the battle of
+Festubert, my pal Bill and I were returning from the village bakery
+on the Festubert road to our billets at Gorre with a loaf each, which we
+had just bought.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Turning the corner into the village we saw approaching us a company
+of the Grenadier Guards in battle order, with a slim young officer at the
+head carrying a stick almost as tall as himself. Directly behind the
+officer was a hefty Guardsman playing "Tipperary" on a concertina.</p>
+
+<p>We saluted the officer, who, after spotting the loaves of bread under
+our arms, looked straight at us, gave us a knowing smile and acknowledged
+our salute. It was not till then that we recognised who the officer was.
+It was the Prince of Wales.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme!" said Bill. "There goes the Prince o' Wales hisself
+a-taking the guard to the Bank o' England!"&mdash;<i>J. F. Davis, 29 Faunce
+Street, S.E.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Just to Make Us Laugh"</h3>
+
+<p>We were one of those unlucky fatigue parties detailed to carry
+ammunition to the forward machine gun positions in the Ypres
+sector. We started off in the dusk and trudged up to the line. The
+transport dumped the "ammo" at a convenient spot and left us to it.
+Then it started raining.</p>
+
+<p>The communication trenches were up to our boot tops in mud, so
+we left them and walked across the top. The ground was all chalky
+slime and we slipped and slid all over the place. Within a very short
+time we were wet through and, to make matters worse, we occasionally
+slipped into shell-holes half full of water (just to relieve the monotony!).</p>
+
+<p>We kept this up all night until the "ammo" had all been delivered;
+then the order came to march back to billets at Dranoutre. It was still
+pouring with rain, and when we came to Shrapnel Corner we saw the
+famous notice board: "Avoid raising Dust Clouds as it draws Enemy's
+Shell Fire."</p>
+
+<p>We were new to this part of the line and, just then, the idea of raising
+dust clouds was extremely ludicrous.</p>
+
+<p>I asked my pal Jarvis, who came from Greenwich, what he thought
+they put boards like that up for. His reply was typically Cockney:
+"I 'spect they did that just to make us laugh, as we cawnt go to the
+picshures."&mdash;<i>Mack (late M.G.C.), Cathcart, The Heath, Dartford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>No Use Arguing with a Mule</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst "resting" after the Jerusalem battle, my battalion was
+detailed for road-making. Large stones were used for the foundation
+of the road and small and broken stones for the surface. Our job
+was to find the stones, <i>assisted</i> by mules.</p>
+
+<p>A mule was new to Joe Smith&mdash;a great-hearted boy from Limehouse
+way&mdash;but he must have heard about them for he gingerly approached
+the one allotted to him, and as gingerly led him away into the hills.</p>
+
+<p>Presently Joe was seen returning, but, to our amazement, he was
+struggling along with the loaded baskets slung across his own shoulders,
+and the mule was trailing behind. When I asked why <i>he</i> was carrying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+the load, he replied: "Well, I was loading 'im up wiv the stones, but he
+cut up rusty, so to save a lot of argument, I reckoned as 'ow I'd better
+carry the darned stones meself."&mdash;-<i>A. C. Wood, 56 Glasslyn Road, N.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Kissing Time</h3>
+
+<p>It was towards the end of '18, and we had got old Jerry well on the
+run. We had reached a village near Lille, which had been in German
+occupation, and the inhabitants were surging round us.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i156.jpg" width="600" height="552" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Take the rough with the smooth."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A corporal was having the time of his life, being kissed on both cheeks
+by the girls, but when it came to a bewhiskered French papa's turn the
+corporal hesitated. "Nah, then, corporal," shouted one of our boys,
+"be sporty! Take the rough with the smooth!"&mdash;-<i>G. H. Harris (late
+C.S.M., 8th London Regt.), 65 Nelson Road, South Chingford, E.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Playin' Soldiers"</h3>
+
+<p>We were in the Cambrai Salient, in support in the old Hindenburg
+Line. Close to us was a road where there were a ration dump
+and every other sort of dump. Everybody in the sector went through
+us to get rations, ammunition, stores, etc.</p>
+
+<p>There was just room in the trench for two men to pass. Snow had
+been on the ground for weeks, and the bottom of the trench was like
+glass. One night at stand-to the Drake Battalion crowded past us to get
+rations. On their return journey the leading man, with two sandbags of
+rations round his neck and a petrol can of water in each hand, fell over
+at every other step. Things were further complicated by a party of
+R.E.'s coming down the line with much barbed wire, in which this unfortunate
+"Drake" entangled himself.</p>
+
+<p>As he picked himself up for the umpteenth time, and without the least
+intention of being funny, I heard him say: "Well, if I ever catch that
+nipper of mine playin' soldiers, I won't 'arf knock 'is blinkin' block orf."&mdash;<i>A.
+M. B. (late Artists Rifles), Savage Club, W.C.2.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Per Carrier</h3>
+
+<p>During the occupation of the "foreshores of Gallipoli" in 1915
+the troops were suffering from shortage of water.</p>
+
+<p>I and six more, including Tich, were detailed to carry petrol cans full
+of water up to the front line. We had rather a rough passage over very
+hilly ground, and more than one of us tripped over stones that were
+strewn across the path, causing us to say a few strong words.</p>
+
+<p>By the time we reached our destination we were just about all in, and on
+being challenged "Halt; who goes there?" Tich answered: "Carter
+Paterson and Co. with 'Adam's ale,' all nice and frothy!"&mdash;<i>D. W.
+Jordan (late 1/5th Essex, 54th Division), 109a Gilmore Road, Lewisham,
+S.E.13.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Enemy" in the Wire</h3>
+
+<p>I was in charge of an advanced post on the Dorian front, Salonica,
+1917, which had been often raided by the Bulgars, and we were
+advised to be extra wary. In the event of an attack we were to fire a
+red flare, which was a signal for the artillery to put over a barrage.</p>
+
+<p>About 2 a.m. we heard a commotion in our wire, but, receiving no
+answer to our challenge, I decided to await further developments. The
+noise was soon repeated in a way that left no doubt in my mind that we
+were being attacked, so I ordered the section to open fire and sent up the
+signal for the guns.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine our surprise when, after all was quiet again, we heard the same
+noise in the wire. One of the sentries was a Cockney, and without a
+word he crawled over the parapet and disappeared in the direction of
+the noise.</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later came the sound of smothered laughter, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+sentry returned with a hedgehog firmly fixed in an empty bully tin. It
+was the cause of our alarm!</p>
+
+<p>After releasing the animal from its predicament, the sentry said:
+"We'd better send the blighter to the Zoo, Corp, wiv a card to say 'this
+little pig put the wind up the troops, caused a fousand men to open
+fire, was bombed, machine-gunned, and shelled.' Blimey! I'd like to
+see the Gunner officer's face if he knew this."&mdash;<i>D. R. Payne, M.M. (ex-Worcester
+Regt.), 40 High Street, Overton, Hants.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Straight from the Heart</h3>
+
+<p>Under canvas at Rousseauville with 27th Squadron, R.F.C., early
+1918&mdash;wet season&mdash;raining hard&mdash;everything wet through and
+muddy&mdash;a "fed-up" gloomy feeling everywhere.</p>
+
+<p>We were trying to start a 3-ton lorry that was stuck in the mud on the
+aerodrome. After we had all had a shot at swinging the starting handle,
+the very Cockney driver of the lorry completely exhausted himself in yet
+another unsuccessful attempt to start up. Then, leaning against the
+radiator and pushing his cap back, he puffed out:</p>
+
+<p>"I dunno! These perishin' lorries are enough to take all the flamin'
+romance out of any blinkin' camp!"&mdash;<i>R. S. W. (Flying-Officer, R.A.F.
+Reserve), 52 Cavendish Road, N.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Smile! Smile! SMILE!!</h3>
+
+<p>Conversation between two Cockney members of a North Country
+regiment whilst proceeding along the Menin road in March 1918 as
+members of a wiring party:</p>
+
+<p>1st: I'm fed up with this stunt.</p>
+
+<p>2nd: Same 'ere. 'Tain't 'arf a life, ain't it? No rest, no beer,
+blinkin' leave stopped&mdash;er, got any fags?</p>
+
+<p>1st: No, mate.</p>
+
+<p>2nd: No fags, no nuffink. It's only us keepin' so ruddy cheerful as
+pulls us through.&mdash;<i>V. Marston, 232 Worple Road, Wimbledon, S.W.20.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>War's Lost Charm</h3>
+
+<p>Time, winter of 1917: scene, a track towards Langemarck from
+Pilkem. Weather and general conditions&mdash;Flanders at its worst.
+My companion that night was an N.C.O. "out since 'fourteen," and we
+had plodded on in silence for some time. Suddenly behind me there
+was a slither, a splash, and a smothered remark as the sergeant skidded
+from the duckboard into an especially dirty shell hole.</p>
+
+<p>I helped him out and asked if he was all right. The reply came, "I'm
+all right, sir; but this blinkin' war seems to have lost its charm!"&mdash;<i>J.
+E. A. Whitman (Captain, late R.F.A.), The Hampden Club, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Taking It Lying Down</h3>
+
+<p>The 1st Battalion of the 25th Londons was preparing to march into
+Waziristan.</p>
+
+<p>Old Bert, the cook, diligently loading up a kneeling camel with dixies,
+pots and pans, and general cooking utensils, paused for a bit, wiped the
+sweat from his brow, and stood back with arms akimbo gazing with
+satisfaction upon his work.</p>
+
+<p>Then he went up to the camel, gave him a gentle prod, and grunted
+"Ooush, yer blighter, ooush" (i.e. rise). The camel turned gently over
+on his back, unshipping the whole cargo that Bert had worked so hard
+upon, and kicked his legs in the air.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i159.jpg" width="600" height="434" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer kitten?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Poor old Bert looked at the wreckage and exclaimed, more in sorrow
+than in anger: "Blimey, don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer
+kitten?"&mdash;<i>T. F. Chanter, 16 Atalanta Street, Fulham.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The First Twenty Years</h3>
+
+<p>It was round about Christmas 1917, and we were resting (?) at
+"Dirty Bucket Corner." The Christmas present we all had in view
+was a return to the line in front of Ypres.</p>
+
+<p>On the day before we were due to return the Christmas post arrived,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+and after the excitement had abated the usual "blueness" settled in&mdash;the
+craving for home comforts and "Blighty."</p>
+
+<p>My partners in the stretcher-bearing squad included a meek and
+mild man (I believe he was a schoolmaster before the war) and a Cockney
+from Seven Dials. We used to call him "Townie."</p>
+
+<p>Although the ex-schoolmaster would have had cause in more normal
+times to rejoice&mdash;for the post contained a letter telling him that he
+had become the father of a bonny boy&mdash;the news made him morbid.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, we all congratulated him. Meanwhile "Townie" was
+busy with a pencil and writing pad, and after a few minutes handed to
+the new parent a sheet of paper folded in half. The recipient unfolded
+it and looked at it for several seconds before the rest of us became
+interested and looked over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>The paper was covered with lines, circles, and writing that appeared
+to us like "double-Dutch."</p>
+
+<p>"What's this?" the father asked.</p>
+
+<p>"That's a map I drawed fer yer kid. It'll show him where the old
+pot and pan is when he's called up," and he concluded with this afterthought:
+"Tell 'im ter be careful of that ruddy shell-hole just acrost
+there. I've fallen in the perishin' thing twice this week."&mdash;<i>"Medico"
+(58th (London) Division), Clapham Common, S.W.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Shell as a Hammer</h3>
+
+<p>At one time the area just behind Vimy Ridge was plentifully sprinkled
+with enemy shells which had failed to explode. As these were considered
+a great source of danger they were indicated by "danger boards"
+nailed to pointed stakes driven into the ground.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion, seeing a man engaged in so marking the resting-place
+of a "dud"&mdash;he was a cheerful Cockney, who whistled as he went
+about his job&mdash;I was much amused (though somewhat scared) to see
+him stop at a nearby shell, select a "danger board," pick up the shell,
+and proceed to use it as a hammer to drive the stake into the ground!&mdash;<i>H.
+S. A. (late Lieut., Suffolk Regt.), Glebe Road, Cheam.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sore Feet</h3>
+
+<p>After the first battle of Ypres an old driver, whom we called
+"Krongie," had very bad feet, and one day reported sick at the
+estaminet where the M.O. held office.</p>
+
+<p>After the examination he ambled up the road, and when he was about
+50 yards away the M.O.'s orderly ran out and called: "Krongie, when you
+get to the column tell the farrier the M.O.'s horse has cast a shoe."</p>
+
+<p>"Krongie": "Ho, yus. You tell 'im ter give the blinkin' cheval a
+couple of number nines like he gave me for <i>my</i> feet."&mdash;<i>P. Jones (R.H.A.),
+6 Ennis Road, N.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>My Sword Dance&mdash;by the C.O.</h3>
+
+<p>A bitterly cold morning in winter, 1916, in the Ypres Salient. I
+was on duty at a gas alarm post in the front line when along came
+the colonel.</p>
+
+<p>He was the finest soldier and gentleman I ever had the pleasure to
+serve under (being an old soldier in two regiments before, I had
+experienced a few C.O.s). It was said he knew every man's name in the
+regiment. No officer dare start his own meal until every man of his
+company had been served. No fatigue or working party ever went up
+the line, no matter at what hour, without the colonel first inspected it.</p>
+
+<p>He had a mania for collecting spare ammunition, and more than once
+was seen taking up to the front line a roll of barbed wire over his shoulder
+hooked through his stick. To him every man was a son, and to the men's
+regret and officers' delight he soon became a general.</p>
+
+<p>This particular morning he approached me with "Good morning,
+Walker. You look cold. Had your rum?" To which I replied that
+I had, but it was a cold job remaining stationary for hours watching the
+wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the C.O., "do this with me." With that he started
+marking time at a quick pace on the duckboards and I did likewise. We
+kept it up for about two minutes, while others near had a good laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you feel better, I know. Do this every ten minutes or so,"
+he said, and away he went to continue his tour of inspection.</p>
+
+<p>My Cockney pal in the next bay, who, I noticed, had enjoyed the scene
+immensely, said, "Blimey, Jock, was he giving you a few lessons in the
+sword dance or the Highland Fling?"&mdash;<i>"Jock" Walker (late Royal
+Fusiliers), 29 Brockbank Road, Lewisham, S.E.13.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Big Bone in the Soup</h3>
+
+<p>In Baghdad, 1917, "Buzzer" Lee and I were told off to do "flying
+sentry" round the officers' lines from 3 to 5 a.m. Well, we commenced
+our duty, and Buzzer suggested we visit the mess kitchen to see all was
+well, and in case there was anything worth "knocking off" (as he called
+it) in the way of char or scran (tea or bread and butter).</p>
+
+<p>The mess kitchen was in darkness, and Buzzer began scrounging around.
+After a while he said: "I've clicked, mate! Soup in a dixie!" By
+the light of a match he found a cup, removed the dixie lid, and took a
+cup of the "soup."</p>
+
+<p>"We're in the market this time, mate," said Buzzer, and took out a
+cupful for me.</p>
+
+<p>"It don't taste like Wood's down the New Cut," I said, doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>He dipped the cup again and exclaimed: "'Ere, I've fahnd a big
+bone!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a new broom-head, however; it had been left in the dixie to
+soak for the night!&mdash;<i>G. H. Griggs (late Somerset L.I.), 3 Ribstone Street,
+Hackney, E.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I Shall have to Change Yer!"</h3>
+
+<p>In the Ypres Salient in July 1915 Headquarters were anxious to
+know which German regiment was facing us. An immense Cockney
+corporal, who was particularly good on patrol, was instructed to secure
+a prisoner.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 463px;">
+<img src="images/i162.jpg" width="463" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I shall have to take yer aht to-night and change yer."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>After a night spent in No Man's Land he returned at dawn with a
+capture, an insignificant little German, trembling with fear, who stood
+about five foot nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Lifting him on to the fire-step and eyeing him critically, the corporal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+thus addressed him: "You won't do for our ole man; I shall have to
+take yer aht to-night and change yer!"&mdash;<i>S. Back, Merriams Farm, Leeds,
+near Maidstone.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Scots Reveille</h3>
+
+<p>Ours was the only kilted battalion in the division, and our bagpipes
+were often the subject of many humorous remarks from the other
+regiments.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 510px;">
+<img src="images/i163.jpg" width="510" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"There goes them perishin' 'toobs' agin."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>On one occasion, while we were out resting just behind the line at
+Château de la Haye, we were billeted opposite a London regiment. Very
+early in the morning the bagpipes would sound the Scottish reveille&mdash;a
+rather long affair compared with the usual bugle call&mdash;and it did not
+please our London friends to be awakened in this manner.</p>
+
+<p>One morning while I was on early duty, and just as the pipers were
+passing, a very dismal face looked out of a billet and announced to his
+pals inside, "There goes them perishin' 'toobs' again."&mdash;<i>Arthur R.
+Blampied, D.C.M. (late London Scottish), 47 Lyndhurst Avenue, Streatham
+Hill, S.W.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Negative</h3>
+
+<p>A battalion of the London Regiment had been having a particularly
+gruelling time in the trenches, but some of the men were cheered
+with thoughts of impending leave. In fact, permission for them to proceed
+home was expected at any moment.</p>
+
+<p>At this time the Germans started a "big push" in another sector, and
+all leave was suddenly cancelled.</p>
+
+<p>An N.C.O. broke the news to the poor unfortunates in the following
+manner: "All you blokes wot's going on leaf, ain't going on leaf, 'cause
+you're unlucky."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the great disappointment, this way of putting it amused
+even the men concerned. The real Cockney spirit!&mdash;<i>S. C., Brighton.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"An' That's All that 'Appened"</h3>
+
+<p>Before going up the line we were stationed at Etaples, and were
+rather proud of our cook-house, but one day the colonel told the
+sergeant-major that he had heard some of the most unparliamentary
+language he had ever heard in his life emanating from the cook-house.</p>
+
+<p>The sergeant-major immediately called at the cook-house to find out
+the cause of the trouble, but our Cockney cook was very indignant.
+"What, <i>me</i> Lord Mayor? [slang for 'swear']. No one's ever 'eard me
+Lord Mayor."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't lie to me," roared the sergeant-major. "What's happened
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nuffin'," said the cook, "except that I slopped a dixie full of 'ot
+tea dahn Bill's neck. I said 'Sorry, Bill,' and Bill said 'Granted, 'Arry,'
+an' that's all what's 'appened."&mdash;<i>Ryder Davies (late 1st Kent Cyclists,
+Royal West Kents), 20 Villa Road, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Watching them "Fly Past"</h3>
+
+<p>Our first big engagement was a counter-attack to recapture the
+trenches lost by the K.R.R.'s and R.B.'s on July 30, 1915, when
+"Jerry" used liquid fire for the first time and literally burned our chaps
+out.</p>
+
+<p>To get into action we had to go across open country in full view of the
+enemy. We began to get it "in the neck" as soon as we got to "Hell
+Fire Corner," on our way to Zillebeke Lake. Our casualties were heavy,
+caused by shell fire, also by a German aeroplane which was flying very low
+overhead and using its machine gun on us.</p>
+
+<p>My pal, Wally Robins (later awarded M.M., promoted corporal, and
+killed at Lens), our company humorist, was looking up at the 'plane
+when a shell landed, killing several men in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>As he fell I thought he too had caught it. I rushed to him anxiously
+and said, "Are you hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>This was his reply: "I should think I am. I wish they would keep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+their bloomin' aeroplanes out of the way. If I hadn't been looking up at
+that I shouldn't have fallen over that blinkin' barbed wire stake."&mdash;<i>E.
+W. Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Battn., D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace
+Road, Clapton, E.5.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>High Necks and Low</h3>
+
+<p>After the first Battle of Ypres in 1914 the Scots Guards were being
+relieved by a well-known London regiment.</p>
+
+<p>A diminutive Cockney looked up at a six-foot Guardsman and asked
+him what it was like in the front line.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 457px;">
+<img src="images/i165.jpg" width="457" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Oo's neck?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Up to your neck in mud," said the Guardsman.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey, oo's neck?" asked the little chap.&mdash;<i>H. Rogers (late 116th
+Battery, 1st Div. R.F.A.), 10 Ashley Road, Richmond, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Too Light&mdash;by One Rissole</h3>
+
+<p>During the night before my Division (21st) attacked, on October 4,
+1917, my unit was in the tunnel under the road at "Clapham
+Junction," near Hooge.</p>
+
+<p>Rations having failed to arrive, each man was given a rissole and a
+packet of chewing-gum. We went over about 6 a.m., and, despite rather
+severe losses, managed to push our line forward about 1,300 yards.</p>
+
+<p>When we were back in "rest" dug-outs at Zillebeke, our officer
+happening to comment on our "feed" prior to the attack, my mate said:
+"Yus. Blinkin' good job for old Jerry we never had two rissoles a man&mdash;we
+might have shoved him back to Berlin!"&mdash;<i>C. Hartridge, 92 Lancaster
+Street, S.E.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Psyche&mdash;"at the Barf!"</h3>
+
+<p>I was billeting at Witternesse, near Aire, for a battery coming out of
+the line for rest and training prior to the August 1918 push.</p>
+
+<p>I was very anxious to find a place where the troops could have a much-needed
+bath. The only spot was a barn, in which were two rusty old
+iron baths.</p>
+
+<p>Further inspection showed that one was in use. On being asked who
+he was, the occupant stood up and replied in a Cockney voice: "Sikey at
+the Barf!"&mdash;<i>H. Thomas, "Ivydene," Herne Grove, East Dulwich, S.E.22.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Juggler's Struggles</h3>
+
+<p>We were disembarking at Ostend in 1914. Each man was expected
+to carry as much stores as he could. Our Cockney Marine was
+struggling down the gangway&mdash;full marching order, rifle slung round
+his neck, kitbag under his arm, and a box in each hand.</p>
+
+<p>As he balanced the boxes we heard him mutter, "S'pose, if I juggle
+this lot orlright they'll poke annuver in my mouf."&mdash;<i>Thomas Bilson
+(late Colour-Sergeant, Royal Marines), 56 The Strand, Walmer, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Almost a Wireless Story</h3>
+
+<p>Sir Sidney Lawford was to inspect our wagon lines in Italy,
+and we had received notice of his coming. Consequently we had
+been up since about 5 a.m. making things ship-shape.</p>
+
+<p>One of the fatigues had been picking up all the spare wire lying about&mdash;wire
+from hay and straw bales, telephone wire, barbed wire, wire
+from broken hop poles, miscellaneous wire of all sorts.</p>
+
+<p>Sir Sidney Lawford arrived about 11 a.m. with a number of his staff,
+dismounted ... and promptly tripped over a piece of wire. Imagine
+our chagrin. However, the feeling passed away when a Cockney driver
+(evidently one of the wire-collecting fatigue) said in a voice audible to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+everyone as he peeped from under the horse he was supposed to be
+grooming: "Blimey, if he ain't fallen over the only piece of blinking
+wire in Italy!"&mdash;<i>F. Praid (late Lieut., R.F.A., 41st Div.), 88a High
+Street, Staines.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>When the S.M. Got Loose</h3>
+
+<p>We were behind the lines at Merville in 1914. It was raining hard
+and it was night. "Smudger" Smith, from Lambeth, was on
+night guard. The horses were pulling their pegs out of the mud and
+getting loose, and "Smudger" was having a busy time running around
+and catching them and knocking the pegs in again with a mallet.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i167.jpg" width="600" height="478" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The sergeant-major, with a waterproof sheet over his head, visited the
+lines. "Smudger," seeing something moving about in the dark, crept
+up, and muttered, "Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"&mdash;and down
+went the sergeant-major.&mdash;<i>W.S. (late Queen's Bays), 2 Winsover Road,
+Spalding.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Mons, 1914&mdash;Not Moscow, 1812!</h3>
+
+<p>In 1914 we of the 2nd Cavalry Brigade were going up to support the
+infantry somewhere near Mons, and when nearing our destination we
+saw several wounded being carried from the line.</p>
+
+<p>Following them, seemingly quite unconcerned, was an infantry transport
+driver, who cut a queer figure. He was wearing a stocking hat,
+and was mounted on an old mule. Thrown over the mule, with the
+tail-end round the mule's neck, was a German's blood-bespattered overcoat.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 455px;">
+<img src="images/i168.jpg" width="455" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Napoleon's retreat from Moscow ain't in it wiv this!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of our troop addressed the rider thus: "Many up there, mate?"</p>
+
+<p>He answered: "Millions! You 'ave a go. We can't shift 'em.
+They've took root, I fink."</p>
+
+<p>He then dug both heels into the mule and, looking round with a bored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+expression, exclaimed: "Talk about Napoleon's blinkin' retreat from
+Moscow, it ain't ruddy well in it wiv this!"</p>
+
+<p>And he rode on.&mdash;<i>W. Baker (late 3rd Hussars), 35 Tunstall Road,
+Brixton, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The S.M. knew "Mulese"</h3>
+
+<p>During the Somme offensive in 1916 I was one of a party carrying
+rations up to the front line. We came upon a mule which was having
+a few pranks and pulling the chap who was leading it all over the road.</p>
+
+<p>This man turned out to be an old Cockney pal of mine in the East
+Surreys. I said, "Hello, Jim, what's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," he replied, "'e won't do nuffink for me, so I'm taking 'im
+back to our sergeant-major, as 'e talks the mule langwidge."&mdash;<i>C. A.
+Fairhead (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 16 Council Cottages, Ford Corner, Yapton,
+Sussex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lost: One Star</h3>
+
+<p>We were on our way to the front line trenches one wet and dreary
+night when our subaltern realised that we were lost. He asked our
+sergeant if he could see the North Star. My Cockney pal, fed up, as we
+all were, turned to me and said: "Pass the word back and ask if anyone
+'as got a Nawth Star in his pocket."&mdash;<i>H. J. Perry, 42 Wells House Road,
+Willesden Junction, N.W.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Simpler than Sounding It</h3>
+
+<p>After leaving Gallipoli in December 1915 our battalion (4th Essex)
+were in camp near the pyramids in Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>"Pro Tem." we reverted to peace-time routine, and brought the
+buglers into commission again. One bugler was making a rather rotten
+show at sounding the "fall-in"&mdash;his "lip" being out of practice, I
+suppose&mdash;when a bored Cockney roared out, "Go rahnd and tell 'em."&mdash;<i>H.
+Barlow, 5 Brooklands, Abbs Cross Lane, Hornchurch.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Under the Cart</h3>
+
+<p>The place was a rest billet, which we had just reached after a gruelling
+on the Somme. Time, 12.30 a.m., dark as pitch and pouring with
+rain.</p>
+
+<p>A despatch-rider arrived with an "urgent" message from H.Q.,
+"Must have the number of your water-cart."</p>
+
+<p>Out of bed, or its substitute, were brought the regimental sergeant-major,
+the orderly-room clerk, and the quartermaster-sergeant (a director
+of a London shipping firm bearing his name). All the light we had was
+the end of a candle, and as the Q.M.S. was crawling in the mud under the
+water-cart trying to find the number the candle flickered, whereupon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+Cockney sergeant-major exclaimed: "For Heaven's sake, stop that candle
+from flickerin', or our blinkin' staff will think we're signalling to Jerry!"</p>
+
+<p>The look on the Q.M.S.'s face as he sat in the mud made even the soaked
+despatch-rider laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the number of your water-cart?" became a byword with the
+boys.&mdash;<i>W. J. Smallbone (late R.M.S., 56th Field Ambulance, 18th Division),
+22 Stoneycroft Road, Woodford Bridge, Woodford Green, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Lion Laughed up his Sleeve</h3>
+
+<p>I had been driving a lorry all day in the East African bush with a
+Cockney escort. When we "parked" for the night I invited the escort
+to sleep under cover in the lorry, as I was going to do. But he refused,
+saying proudly that he had slept in the open since he had landed in Africa.
+So, undressing, he proceeded to make the rim of the rear wheel his pillow,
+covering himself with a blanket and greatcoat.</p>
+
+<p>About 1 a.m. I was awakened by hearing someone climbing over the
+tail-board. Responding to my challenge the Cockney said: "It's all
+right. The blighter's been and pinched my blanket and greatcoat.
+It's a good job I had my shirt on." We found next morning that a
+lion had run off with them: about 100 yards away they lay, and one
+sleeve was torn out of the coat.&mdash;<i>H. J. Lake, 40a Chagford Street, N.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Carman's Sarcasm</h3>
+
+<p>While our allies, the Portuguese, were holding part of the line to
+the left of Festubert, a Portuguese officer rode up on the most
+emaciated and broken-down old "crock" I had set eyes on.</p>
+
+<p>He dismounted and was looking round for somewhere to tether the
+horse, when one of our drivers, a Cockney carman in "civvy" life,
+cast a critical eye over the mount and bawled out, "Don't worry abaht
+tying it up, mate. <i>Lean it up agin this 'ere fence.</i>"&mdash;<i>A. G. Lodge (Sergeant,
+25th Division Artillery), 12 Derinton Road, S.W.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Burying a Lorry</h3>
+
+<p>During the Battle of the Somme, near Ginchy, a R.A.S.C. motor-lorry
+ran off the main track in the darkness and got stuck in the
+mud. The driver came to our battery near by and asked for help, so
+six gunners and I volunteered and set out with shovels.</p>
+
+<p>On arriving at the scene, there was the motor-lorry almost buried to
+the top of the wheels. We all stood around surveying the scene in
+silence, wondering how best to make a start, when the Cockney member
+of the volunteer party burst out with: "Lummy, the quickest way
+out of this is to shovel some more blinkin' dirt on top, an' bury it."&mdash;<i>H.
+Wright (ex-Sig./Bdr., C/74 Bde., R.F.A.), 45 Colehill Lane, Fulham,
+S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Striking a Bargain</h3>
+
+<p>During the battle of the Narrows at the Dardanelles (March 18,
+1915) I was in charge of No. 3 stokehold in H.M.S. <i>Vengeance</i>. The
+front line of ships engaged consisted of <i>Irresistible</i>, <i>Ocean</i>, <i>Vengeance</i>, and
+an old French battleship, the <i>Bouvet</i>. The stokers off watch were the
+ambulance party and fire brigade.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i171.jpg" width="600" height="559" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Give us yer week's 'navy' and I'll let yer aht."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>When the battle was at its height one of the fire brigade, a Cockney,
+kept us informed of what was going on, and this is the news we received
+down the ash hoist:</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Ocean</i> and <i>Irresistible</i> 'as gorn darn, the Froggy's gone up in smoke:
+our blinkin' turn next.</p>
+
+<p>"Pat, give us yer week's 'navy' (rum ration) and I'll lift this bloomin'
+'atch (armoured grating) and let yer aht!"&mdash;<i>"Ajax," 23 King's Drive,
+Gravesend, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bugling in 'Indoostanee</h3>
+
+<p>After the evacuation of Gallipoli a transport was conveying
+British troops to Egypt.</p>
+
+<p>The O.C. wanted a trumpeter or bugler to follow him around during
+the daily lifeboat parade and to sound the "Dismiss" at the end. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+only one available was an Indian trumpeter, who had not blown a
+trumpet or bugle since 1914. He was ordered for the duty.</p>
+
+<p>On the first day, immediately after the inspection was over, the O.C.
+gave orders for the trumpeter to sound the "Dismiss." After the
+trumpeter had finished, the O.C., with a look of astonishment on
+his face, gasped, "What's that? I never heard it sounded like that
+before."</p>
+
+<p>Came a Cockney voice from the rear rank, "'E sounded it in 'Indoostanee,
+sir."&mdash;<i>M. C., Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"For 'eaven's sake, stop sniffin'!"</h3>
+
+<p>Our sector of the line at Loos was anticipating a raid by the Germans
+and the whole battalion was ordered to "stand to" all night.</p>
+
+<p>Double sentries were posted at intervals of a few feet with orders
+to report any suspicious shadows in No Man's Land.</p>
+
+<p>All eyes and ears were strained in an effort to locate any movement
+in the darkness beyond the parapet.</p>
+
+<p>Strict silence was to be maintained, and the guns had been ordered
+to hang fire so that we might give the Germans a surprise welcome if
+they came over.</p>
+
+<p>The ominous stillness was broken at last by a young Cockney saying
+to his pal standing with him on the fire-step: "For 'Eaven's sake,
+stop sniffin', Porky. How d'yer fink we'll 'ear Jerry if he comes acrorst?"&mdash;<i>C.
+J. Blake, 29a Collingbourne Road, Shepherd's Bush, W.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Babes in the Salonika Wood</h3>
+
+<p>I was with the Salonika Force on the Dorian front. One night while
+an important raid was on my platoon was told off to seize a big wood
+between the lines and make sure it was clear of Bulgars, who could otherwise
+have enfiladed the main raiding party.</p>
+
+<p>The orders were "absolute silence, and no firing unless the other side
+fires first." I halted my men behind a fold in the ground near the wood
+and called up two men and told them to creep forward and see if the wood
+was occupied.</p>
+
+<p>It was nasty work as the first news of any Bulgars would almost
+certainly have been a bayonet in the back from somebody perfectly
+concealed behind a tree.</p>
+
+<p>I asked them if the instructions were quite clear and one of them,
+Charlie, from Limehouse, whispered back:</p>
+
+<p>"Yessir! We're going to be the Babes in the Wood, and if the Wicked
+Uncles is out to-night we don't fire unless they fires first. Come on,
+George (to his companion), there's going to be some dirty work for the
+Little Robin Redbreasts to-morrer!"&mdash;<i>A. Forsyth (late Army Cyclist
+Corps), 65 St. Martin's Lane, W.C.2.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Bringing it Home to Him</h3>
+
+<p>For several months in 1917 matches were rationed in a Y.M.C.A.
+rest-camp canteen, somewhere in France. There entered during this
+time a war-worn Cockney, a drawn, tired look still in his eyes, and the
+mud of the trenches on his uniform and boots. He asked for cigarettes
+and matches, and was told there were no matches.</p>
+
+<p>"Wot, no matches? 'Ow am I goin' ter light me fags, miss?"</p>
+
+<p>"You see matches are rationed now," I said, "and the few we are
+allowed run out at once."</p>
+
+<p>With a weary sigh, as if a great truth had dawned upon him, he said
+pathetically:</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme, that do bring the war 'ome to a bloke, don't it, miss?"&mdash;<i>Miss
+H. Campbell, Pennerly Lodge, Beaulieu, Hants.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>After the Feast</h3>
+
+<p>The company dinner on Christmas Day 1917 was eaten in a large
+barn at Ribemont, on the Somme, and before this extra special feast
+began an affable "old sweat," one Billy Williams, of London Town,
+volunteered for the clearing-up party.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long sitting and some considerable time before the men
+began to wander back to their billets, and it fell to the most capable
+of the orderlies to clear up the debris.</p>
+
+<p>This had just been accomplished to the satisfaction of the orderly
+officer when out of the barn strode old Billy carrying a dixie full of beer.
+"Where are you going with that, Williams?" asked the officer.</p>
+
+<p>Springing smartly to attention, and with a pained look upon his face,
+old Billy replied: "This 'ere, sir? Sick man in the 'ut, sir!"&mdash;<i>R. E.
+Shirley (late The London Regiment), 5 Staunton Road, Kingston, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wait for the "Two Pennies, Please"</h3>
+
+<p>Near the River Struma, on the Salonika front, in March 1917 our
+brigade H.Q. was on the extreme right of the divisional artillery and
+near a French artillery brigade.</p>
+
+<p>For the purpose of maintaining communication a French telephonist
+was quartered in our dug-out. Whenever he wished to get into communication
+with his headquarters he unmercifully thumped the field
+telephone and in an excitable voice called out: "<i>'Ullo, mon capitaine</i>,"
+five or six times in half as many seconds.</p>
+
+<p>Greatly impressed by one of these sudden outbursts, the adjutant's
+batman&mdash;a typical Cockney&mdash;exclaimed in a hurt voice: "Nah then,
+matey, jest cool yerself a bit till the young lidy tells yer to put in yer two
+coppers!"&mdash;<i>F. G. Pickwick (301 Brigade R.F.A.), 100 Hubert Grove,
+Stockwell, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The General Goes Skating</h3>
+
+<p>One horribly wet day during the winter of 1915 I met the Brigadier
+paying his morning visit to the front line and accompanied him
+along my section of the trench. Entering one fire-bay, the gallant
+General slipped and sat down uncommonly hard in the mud.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 525px;">
+<img src="images/i174.jpg" width="525" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ere, chum, get up; this ain't a skatin' rink."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Discipline stifled any desire on my part for mirth, but to my horror,
+the sentry in that bay, without turning away from his periscope, called
+over his shoulder in unmistakable Cockney accents: "'Ere, chum,
+get up; this ain't a blinkin' skatin' rink!"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Fortunately the General's sense of humour was equal to the occasion,
+and he replied to the now horror-stricken sentry with an affable "Quite."&mdash;<i>"Company
+Commander," Orpington, Kent.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"To Top Things Up"</h3>
+
+<p>During the early part of 1916 a few picked men from the North Sea
+Fleet were sent on a short tour of the Western Front to get an accurate
+idea of the work of the sister Service. One or two of these men were
+attached to my company for a few days in January when we were at
+Givenchy&mdash;a fairly lively spot at that time. The morning after their
+arrival there was some pretty heavy firing and bombing, which soon died
+down to normal.</p>
+
+<p>Later in the day, as I was passing down the line, I asked one of our
+guests (an out-and-out Londoner) what he thought of things. He shook
+his head mournfully. "I thought the blighters was coming over after
+all that gun-fire this morning, sir," he said. "I been in a naval action;
+I been submarined; I been bombed by aeroplanes; and, blimey, I
+did 'ope I'd be in a bay'nit charge, just to top things up."&mdash;<i>L. V. Upward
+(late Capt. R.N.), 14 Lyndhurst Road, Hampstead, N.W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Luck in the Family</h3>
+
+<p>A cockney R.A.S.C. driver had been knocked down and badly
+injured by a staff-officer's car.</p>
+
+<p>On recovering consciousness in hospital, he highly amused the doctor
+by exclaiming, "Well, me gran'farver was kicked by a Derby winner,
+me farver knew Dr. Crippen, an' 'ere's me gets a blighty orf a brass-'at's
+Rolls-bloomin'-Royce. It's funny 'ow luck runs in famblys!"&mdash;<i>J. F. C.,
+Langdon Park Road, N. 6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"I'm Drownded"</h3>
+
+<p>We were going into the line in front of Cambrai, in November 1917,
+and were walking in single file. The night was pitch black.
+Word came down at intervals from the leading file, "'Ware wire,"
+"'Ware shell-hole."</p>
+
+<p>My pal, a Cockney, was in front of me. Suddenly I heard a muffled
+curse&mdash;he had deviated and paid the penalty by falling into a particularly
+deep shell-hole filled with mud and water.</p>
+
+<p>I stumbled to the edge of the hole and peered down and saw his face.
+I asked him if he was all right, and back came the reply, "Blimey, I'm
+drownded, so let the missus know I died like a sailor."</p>
+
+<p>Three days later he did die ... like a soldier.&mdash;<i>Ex-Rfn. John S.
+Brown, 94 Masterman Road, East Ham, E.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not a New World's Wonder</h3>
+
+<p>The regiment had reached Hebuterne after marching from St. Amand,
+and a party of us was detailed to carry stuff up to the front line.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 451px;">
+<img src="images/i176.jpg" width="451" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"There's only seven wonders."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>One of our number, a hefty Cockney, besides being in full marching
+order, had a bag of bombs and a couple of screw pickets. A sergeant
+then handed him some petrol tins. With a look of profound disgust, the
+Cockney dropped the tins and remarked, "Chuck it, mate; there's only
+seven wonders in this blinkin' world."&mdash;<i>W. G. H. Cox (late 16th London
+Regt.), 9 Longstaff Crescent, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Lads of the Village</h3>
+
+<p>While en route from the Western to the Italian front we were held
+up at an Italian wayside station and, hearing that we had some time
+to wait, our cook says, "Nah's our chance to make some tea."</p>
+
+<p>So we dragged our boiler on to the end of the platform, scrounged some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>
+wood, and soon had the fire going and the water on the boil. "Nah we
+will get the tea and sugar," says the cook. When we returned we found
+that the chimney of the boiler had disappeared, smoke and flames were
+roaring up, and the water was ruined by soot.</p>
+
+<p>An Italian soldier was standing by, looking on. "Somebody's pinched
+our chimbley," gasped the cook, "and I've got an idea that this Italian
+fellow knows somefing abaht it."</p>
+
+<p>Back came the reply from the Italian, in pure Cockney: "I ain't
+pinched yer chimbley, mate!"</p>
+
+<p>"What! yer speak our lingo?" says the cook. "What part of the
+Village do yer come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Clerkenwell," was the reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Give us yer mitt," says the cook. "I'm from the same parish. And
+nah I knows that yer couldn't 'ave pinched our chimbley. It must have
+been one of them scrounging Cockneys."&mdash;<i>H. Howard, 26 Hanover Street,
+Islington, N.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Before 1914, When Men Worked</h3>
+
+<p>Night after night, for three weeks, with never a night off, we took
+ammunition up for the guns at Ypres in 1917. Sometimes we
+couldn't get back until 5 a.m. or 6 a.m.&mdash;and the day was spent feeding
+and grooming the horses, cleaning harness, and a hundred odd jobs
+besides.</p>
+
+<p>We had built a bit of a shack, and in this I was writing a letter home,
+and one of my drivers noticed my handwriting on the envelope.</p>
+
+<p>"Coo, Corp! You can't 'arf write! 'Ow did yer learn it?" he said.</p>
+
+<p>I told him I had been in an insurance office before I joined up.</p>
+
+<p>"Lumme!" he exclaimed, "did yer <i>work</i> once, Corp?"&mdash;<i>David
+Phillips (late R.F.A.), The Ship Inn, Soham, near Ely, Cambridgeshire.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Their Fatigue</h3>
+
+<p>In August 1915, our Division was moved to the Loos area in preparation
+for the battle which began on September 25, and I well remember the
+long march which brought us to our destination&mdash;the mining village of
+N&oelig;ux-les-Mines, about a mile from Mazingarbe.</p>
+
+<p>We ended the hard and tiring journey at a spot where a huge slag-heap
+towered above our heads to a height of seventy or eighty feet.
+On our arrival here there were the usual fatigue parties to parade, and
+with everyone tired and weary this was an unthankful duty.</p>
+
+<p>The youngest Cockney in my section, who was always cheerful, hearing
+me detailing men for fatigue, shouted out, "Come on, mites; paride
+with spoons and mess-tins. The blinking fattygue party will shift this
+perishin' slag-heap from 'ere to Mazingarbe."&mdash;<i>Herbert W. Bassett
+(Cpl. attached 47th London Division), 41 Argyle Road, Sevenoaks, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Teaching Bulgars the Three-card Trick</h3>
+
+<p>At Butkova, on the right of Lake Doiran, in 1917, we had surprised
+the Bulgar and had pushed forward as far as the foot of the
+Belashitsa Mountains, the reserve position of the enemy.</p>
+
+<p>After a sharp encounter we retired, according to plan, and on the
+return to our lines we heard murmurings in a nullah to our right.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i178.jpg" width="600" height="530" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Find der lidy&mdash;dere you are&mdash;over yer go&mdash;under yer go&mdash;nah find 'er!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Motioning to me and the section corporal, our platoon commander
+advanced cautiously towards the nullah and you can imagine our
+surprise when we discovered "Dido" Plumpton calmly showing the
+"three-card trick" to the two Bulgar prisoners he had been detailed
+to escort. He was telling his mystified audience: "Find der lidy&mdash;dere
+you are&mdash;over yer go&mdash;under yer go&mdash;<i>nah</i> find 'er!"&mdash;<i>Alfred
+Tall (late 2nd East Kents), 204 Hoxton Street, N.1.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="HOSPITAL" id="HOSPITAL">3. HOSPITAL</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>"Tich" Meets the King</h3>
+
+<p>In a large ward in a military hospital in London there was a little
+Cockney drummer boy of eighteen years who had lost both legs from
+shell fire. In spite of his calamity and the suffering he endured from
+numerous operations for the removal of bone, he was one of the cheeriest
+boys in the ward.</p>
+
+<p>At that time many men in the ward had limbs amputated because of
+frost-bite, and it was quite a usual thing for a visitor to remark, "Have
+you had frost-bite?"</p>
+
+<p>Nothing made Tich so furious as the suggestion that he should have
+lost his limbs by any, to his mind, second-rate way. If he were asked,
+"Have you had frost-bite?" he would look up with disgust and reply,
+"Naow&mdash;-a flea bit me!" If, however, he was asked, "Were you
+wounded?" he would smile and say, "Not 'arf!"</p>
+
+<p>A visit was expected from the King, and the Tommies kept asking
+Tich what he would say if the King said, "Have you had frost-bite?"
+"You wite!" said Tich.</p>
+
+<p>I was standing with the Sister near to Tich in his wheel-chair when the
+King approached. His Majesty at once noticed Tich was legless, and
+said in his kind way, "Well, my man, how are you getting on?"</p>
+
+<p>"Splendid, sir!" said Tich.</p>
+
+<p>"How did it happen?" asked the King.</p>
+
+<p>"Wounded, sir&mdash;shell," replied Tich, all smiles.</p>
+
+<p>Tich's opinion of the King soared higher than ever.&mdash;-<i>M. A. Kennedy
+(late V.A.D., Royal Military Hospital, Woolwich), 70 Windmill Hill,
+Enfield, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Putting the Lid on It</h3>
+
+<p>It was "clearing day" at the 56th General Hospital, Wimereux.
+Nurses and orderlies were having a busy morning getting ready the
+patients who were going to Blighty. Nearly all of them had been taken
+out to the waiting ambulances except my Cockney friend in the bed
+next to mine, who had just had an arm amputated and was very ill.</p>
+
+<p>Two orderlies came down the ward bearing a stretcher with an oblong
+box fixed on to it (to prevent jolting while travelling). They placed it
+beside my friend's bed, and, having dressed him, put him in the box on
+the stretcher. Then a nurse wrapped him up in blankets, and after she
+had finished she said: "There you are. Feeling nice and comfortable?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," said he, "but don't put the lid on before I have kissed the
+orderly good-bye."&mdash;<i>E. C., Hackney, E.8.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Riddled in the Sands</h3>
+
+<p>One of the finest exhibitions of Cockney spirit I saw during the
+war occurred in Mesopotamia after the Battle of Shaiba (April
+1915), in which we had completely routed the Turkish army.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i180.jpg" width="600" height="482" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full of holes I'd be sure to sink."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>We were busy evacuating the wounded in boats across the six-mile
+stretch of water which separated us from Basra. A sergeant who had
+been hit by no fewer than six machine-gun bullets was brought down in a
+stretcher to be put in one of the boats. As I superintended this man&oelig;uvre
+he said to me: "Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full of holes
+I'd be sure to sink!"&mdash;<i>F. C. Fraser (Lieut.-Col., Ind. Med. Service),
+309 Brownhill Road, Catford, S.E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Season!</h3>
+
+<p>A cockney soldier, badly hit for the third time, was about to be
+carried once more on board the ambulance train at Folkestone.
+When the bearers came to his stretcher, one said to the other, "What's
+it say on his ticket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Season!" said a voice from the stretcher.&mdash;<i>Rev. A. T. Greenwood,
+Wallington, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Where's the Milk and Honey?</h3>
+
+<p>A medical Officer of a London division in Palestine was explaining
+to a dying Cockney in his field ambulance at Bethlehem how sorry he
+was that he had no special comforts to ease his last moments, when the
+man, with a cheery grin, remarked: "Oh, that's all right, sir. Yer
+reads as 'ow this 'ere 'Oly Land is flowing with milk and 'oney; but
+I ain't seen any 'oney myself, and in our battery there's 15 men to a tin
+o' milk."&mdash;<i>E. T. Middleton, 32 Denmark Road, West Ealing, W.13.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Lunnon"</h3>
+
+<p>He was my sergeant-major. Having on one occasion missed death
+literally by inches, he said coolly: "Them blighters can't 'it 'arf
+as smart as my missus when she's roused." I last saw him at Charing
+Cross Station. We were both casualties. All the way from Dover he
+had moaned one word&mdash;"Lunnon." At Charing Cross they laid his
+stretcher beside mine. He was half conscious. Suddenly he revived
+and called out, his voice boyish and jolly: "Good 'ole Charin' Crawss,"
+and fell back dead.&mdash;<i>G. W. R., Norwich, Norfolk.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Sparing the M.O.</h3>
+
+<p>It was during some open warfare in France. The scene a small room
+full of badly wounded men; all the remainder have been hurriedly
+removed, or rather, not brought in here. There are no beds; the men
+lie on the floor close together.</p>
+
+<p>I rise to stretch my back after dressing one. My foot strikes another
+foot. A yell of agony&mdash;the foot was attached to a badly shattered thigh.</p>
+
+<p>An insistent, earnest chorus: "You <i>didn't</i> 'urt him, sir. 'E often
+makes a noise like that."</p>
+
+<p>I feel a hand take mine, and, looking down, I see it in the grasp of a
+man with three gaping wounds. "It <i>wasn't</i> your fault, sir," he says, in a
+fierce, hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p>And then I realise that not a soul in that room but takes it for granted
+that my mental anguish for my stupidity is greater than his own physical
+pain, and is doing his best to deaden it for me&mdash;one, at any rate, at great
+cost to himself.</p>
+
+<p>In whose ranks are the world's great gentlemen?&mdash;<i>"The Clumsy
+Fool," Guy's Hospital, E.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Robbery with Violence"</h3>
+
+<p>A Cockney soldier had his leg shattered. When he came round
+in hospital the doctors told him they had been obliged to take his
+leg off.</p>
+
+<p>"Taken my leg off? Blimey! Where is it? Hi, wot yer done
+wiv it? Fer 'Eaven's sake, find my leg, somebody; it's got seven
+and a tanner in the stocking."&mdash;<i>S. W. Baker, 23 Trinity Road, Bedford.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Seven His Lucky Number</h3>
+
+<p>Scene: the plank road outside St. Jean. Stretcher-bearers bringing
+down a man whose left leg had been blown away below the knee. A
+man coming up recognises the man on the stretcher, and the following
+conversation ensues:</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Bill!" Then, catching sight of the left leg: "Blimey!
+You ain't 'arf copped it."</p>
+
+<p>The Reply: A faint smile, a right hand feebly pointing to the left
+sleeve already bearing <i>six</i> gold stripes, and a hoarse voice which said,
+"Anuvver one, and seven's me lucky number."&mdash;<i>S. G. Wallis Norton,
+Norton House, Peaks Hill, Purley.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Blind Man's Buff</h3>
+
+<p>The hospital ship <i>Dunluce Castle</i>, on which I was serving, was
+taking the wounded and sick from Gallipoli. Among the wounded
+brought on board one evening was a man who was badly hurt about his
+face. Our M.O. thought the poor chap's eyes were sightless.</p>
+
+<p>Imagine our surprise when, in the morning, finding that his eyes
+were bandaged, he pulled himself to a sitting posture in bed, turned
+his head round and cried out, "S'y, boys, who's fer a gime of blind man's
+buff?"</p>
+
+<p>I am glad to say that the sight of one eye was saved.&mdash;<i>F. T. Barley,
+24, Station Avenue, Prittlewell, Southend.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Self-Supporting</h3>
+
+<p>After being wounded at Ypres in July 1917, I was being sent
+home. When we were all aboard, an orderly came round with life-belts.</p>
+
+<p>When he got to the next stretcher to me, on which lay a man who had
+his arm and leg in splints, he asked the usual question ("Can you look
+after yourself if anything happens going across?"), and received the
+faint answer: "Lumme, mate, I've enough wood on me to make a raft."&mdash;<i>A.
+E. Fuller (36th Battery R.F.A.), 21 Pendragon Road, Downham Estate,
+Bromley.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>In the Butterfly Division</h3>
+
+<p>On arriving at the hospital at Dames Camiers, we were put to bed.
+In the next bed to mine was a young Cockney who had lost three
+fingers of his right hand and his left arm below the elbow.</p>
+
+<p>The hospital orderly came to take particulars of our wounds, etc.
+Having finished with me, he turned to the Cockney. Rank, name, and
+regimental number were given, and then the orderly asked, "Which
+division are you from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the 19th," came the answer; and then, as an afterthought,
+"that's the butterfly division, yer know, but I've 'ad me blinkin' wings
+clipped."&mdash;<i>H. Redford (late R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Unfair Leg-Pull</h3>
+
+<p>I was working in a surgical ward at a base hospital, and among the
+patients was a Tommy with a fractured thigh-bone. He had his leg
+in a splint and, as was customary in these cases, there was an extension
+at the foot-piece with a heavy weight attached to prevent shortening of
+the leg.</p>
+
+<p>This weight was causing him a good deal of pain, and as I could do
+nothing to alleviate it I asked the M.O. to explain to him the necessity
+for the extension. He did so and ended up by saying, "You know, we
+want your leg to be straight, old man."</p>
+
+<p>The Tommy replied: "Wot's the good of making that leg strite
+w'en the uvver one's bowed?"&mdash;<i>Muriel A. Batey (V.A.D. Nurse),
+The North Cottage, Adderstone Crescent, Newcastle-upon-Tyne.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Saw It Through</h3>
+
+<p>In the big general hospital at Colchester the next bed to mine was
+occupied by a typical Cockney who was very seriously wounded.
+It was little short of marvellous that he was alive at all.</p>
+
+<p>Early one morning he became so ill that the hospital chaplain was sent
+to administer the Last Sacrament and the little Londoner's parents
+were telegraphed for.</p>
+
+<p>About nine o'clock he rallied a little, and apparently realised that the
+authorities had given him up as hopeless, for with a great effort he
+half-sat up and, with his eyes ablaze, cried: "Wot? You fink I'm
+goin' ter die? Well, you're all wrong! I've bin in this war since it
+started, an' I intends to be in it at the finish. So I just <i>won't</i> die, to
+spite yer, see?"</p>
+
+<p>His unconquerable spirit pulled him through, and he is alive&mdash;and well&mdash;to-day!&mdash;<i>A.
+C. P. (late 58th (London) Division), Fulham, S.W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>As Good as the Pictures</h3>
+
+<p>In Salonika during 1916 I was taken to a field hospital, en route for
+the Base Hospital.</p>
+
+<p>All merry and bright when lying down, but helpless when perpendicular,
+was a comrade in the next bed to me. We were to be moved next day.</p>
+
+<p>I was interested in him, as he told me he belonged to "Berm-on-Sea,"
+which happens to be my birth-place. Well, close to our marquee were
+the dump and transport lines, which we could plainly see through the
+entrance to the marquee.</p>
+
+<p>Sister was taking our temperatures when we heard an explosion.
+Johnnie had "found" the dump. An officer ran through the marquee,
+ordering everyone to the dug-outs, and they promptly obeyed.</p>
+
+<p>I looked at Bermondsey Bill. He said: "We are beat. Let's
+stop and watch the fireworks."</p>
+
+<p>We were helpless on our feet. I tried to walk, but had to give it up.
+A new commotion then began, and Bill exclaimed: "Blimey, 'ere comes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+Flying Fox rahnd Tattenham Corner." It was a badly-wounded and
+panic-stricken mule. It dashed through our marquee, sent Sister's
+table flying, found the exit and collapsed outside.</p>
+
+<p>Sister returned (she was the right stuff) and said: "Hello, what's
+happened here? And you boys still in bed! Hadn't you better try
+and get to the dug-outs?"</p>
+
+<p>Bermondsey Bill said: "We'll stick it aht nah, Sister, an' fancy we're
+at the pictures."&mdash;<i>J. W. Fairbrass, 131 Sutton Dwellings, Upper Street,
+Islington, N.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Room for the Comforter</h3>
+
+<p>At Etaples in 1916 I was in a hospital marquee with nothing worse
+than a sprained ankle. A Y.M.C.A. officer was visiting us, giving a
+cheery word here and there, together with a very welcome packet of
+cigarettes.</p>
+
+<p>In the next cot to me was a young Cockney of the "Diehards," who had
+been well peppered with shrapnel. His head was almost entirely swathed
+in bandages, openings being left for his eyes, nose, and mouth.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old chap," said the good Samaritan to him, "they seem to
+have got you pretty badly."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm all right, guv'nor&mdash;ser long as they leaves me an 'ole to put me
+fag in."&mdash;<i>A. E. Jeffreys (late 4th Q.O. Hussars), 24 Byne Road, Sydenham,
+S.E. 26.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"War Worn and Tonsillitis"</h3>
+
+<p>My son, Gunner E. Smith (an "Old Contemptible"), came home on
+leave in September 1918, and after a day or two had something
+wrong with his throat. I advised him to see the M.O.</p>
+
+<p>He went and came back saying, "Just look at this." The certificate
+said "War worn and tonsillitis."</p>
+
+<p>He went to the hospital, and was kept in for three weeks. The first
+time I went to see him, he said, "What do you think of it? A 1914 man,
+and knocked over by a kid's complaint."&mdash;<i>F. Smith, 23 Saunders Road,
+Plumstead, S.E.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"... Fort I was in 'Ell"</h3>
+
+<p>It was at the American General Hospital in Rouen. There was the
+usual noise created by chaps under anesthetic, swearing, shouting,
+singing, and moaning; but the fellow in the next bed to me had not
+stirred since they had brought him from the operating theatre many
+hours before.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he sat up, looked around him in amazement, and said,
+"Strike, I've bin a-lying 'ere fer abaht two 'ours afraid ter open me
+peepers. I fort I was in 'ell."&mdash;<i>P. Webb (late E. Surreys), 68 Rossiter
+Road, Balham, S.W.12.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Pity the Poor Fly!</h3>
+
+<p>Amongst my massage patients at one of the general hospitals
+was a very cheery Cockney sergeant, who had been badly damaged
+by shrapnel. In addition to other injuries he had lost an eye.</p>
+
+<p>One morning he was issued with a new eye, and was very proud of it.
+After admiring himself in a small mirror for a considerable time he
+turned to me and said, "Sister, won't it be a blinkin' sell for the fly
+who gets into my glass eye?"&mdash;<i>(Mrs.) A. Powell, 61 Ritherdon Road,
+S.W.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Temperature by the Inch</h3>
+
+<p>I was a patient in a general hospital in 1918, when a Cockney gunner
+was put into the bed next to mine. He was suffering from a severe
+form of influenza, and after ten days' treatment showed little sign of
+improvement.</p>
+
+<p>One evening the Sister was going her rounds with the thermometers.
+She had taken our friend's temperature and registered it on the chart
+hanging over his head. As she passed to the next bed he raised himself
+and turned round to read the result. Then he looked over to a Canadian
+in a bed in the far corner of the ward, and this dialogue ensued:</p>
+
+<p>Gunner: Canada!</p>
+
+<p>Canadian: Hallo!</p>
+
+<p>Gunner: Up agin.</p>
+
+<p>Canadian: Go on! How much?</p>
+
+<p>Gunner: 'Arf inch.&mdash;<i>E. A. Taylor (late 4th London Field Ambulance), Drouvin, The Chase,
+Wallington, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"'Arf Price at the Pickshers!"</h3>
+
+<p>On the way across Channel with a Blighty in 1917 I chummed up with
+a wounded Cockney member of the Sussex. His head was swathed
+in bandages.</p>
+
+<p>"Done one o' me eyes in altergevver," he confided lugubriously. "Any
+blinkin' 'ow," he added in cheerier tones, "if that don't entitle a bloke to
+'arf price at the pickshers fer the rest of 'is blinkin' natural I don't know
+wot will do!"&mdash;<i>James Vance Marshall, 15, Manette Street, W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Twenty-four Stitches in Time</h3>
+
+<p>During the 1918 reverses suffered by the Turks on various fronts
+large numbers of mules were captured and sent to the veterinary
+bases to be reconditioned, sorted, and shod, for issue to various units in
+need of them. It was no mean feat to handle and shoe the worst-tempered
+brutes in the world. They had been made perfect demons through
+privation.</p>
+
+<p>"Ninty," a shoeing-smith (late of Grange Road, Bermondsey), was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+laid out and savaged by a mule, and carried off to hospital. At night
+his bosom pal goes over to see how his "old china" is going on.</p>
+
+<p>"'Ow are ye, Ninty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey, Ted, nineteen stitches in me figh an' five in me ribs. Ted&mdash;wot
+d'ye reckon they done it wiv? A sewin' machine?"&mdash;<i>A. C. Weekley
+(late Farrier Staff Sergeant, 20th Veterinary Hospital, Abbassair), 70
+Denbigh Road, East Ham, E.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Second Thoughts</h3>
+
+<p>A Bluejacket who was brought into the Naval Hospital at Rosyth
+had had one of his legs blown off while he was asleep in his hammock.
+The late Mr. Thomas Horrocks Oppenshaw, the senior surgeon-in-charge,
+asked him what his first thought was when the explosion woke him up.</p>
+
+<p>"My first thought was 'Torpedoed, by gum!'"</p>
+
+<p>"And what did you think next?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think what I thought next was 'Ruddy good shot!'"&mdash;<i>H.R.A.,
+M.D., llford Manor, near Lewes, Sussex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Hats Off to Private Tanner</h3>
+
+<p>The following story, which emphasises the Cockney war spirit in the
+most adverse circumstances, and how it even impressed our late
+enemy, was related to me by a German acquaintance whose integrity
+is unimpeachable.</p>
+
+<p>It was at a German prisoner-of-war clearing station in Douai during
+the summer of 1917, where wounded British prisoners were being cleared
+for prison-camp hospital.</p>
+
+<p>A number of wounded of a London regiment has been brought in,
+and a German orderly was detailed to take their names and particulars
+of wounds, etc. Later, looking over the orderly's list, the German
+sergeant-major in charge came across a name written by the orderly
+which was quite unintelligible to the sergeant-major.</p>
+
+<p>He therefore requested an intelligence officer, who spoke perfect English,
+to ask this particular man his name. The intelligence officer sought out
+the man, a Cockney, who had been severely wounded, and the following
+conversation took place.</p>
+
+<p>I.O.: You are Number &mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p>Cockney: Yussir.</p>
+
+<p>I.O.: What is your name?</p>
+
+<p>Cockney: Fourpence'a'penny.</p>
+
+<p>I.O.: I understand this is a term of English money, not a name.</p>
+
+<p>Cockney: Well, sir, I used to be called Tanner, but my right leg was
+took orf yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>The final words of the intelligence officer, as related to me, were:
+"I could have fallen on the 'begrimed ruffian hero's' neck and kissed
+him."&mdash;<i>J. W. Rourke, M.C. (ex-Lieut. Essex Regt.), 20 Mill Green Road,
+Welwyn Garden City.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Markis o' Granby</h3>
+
+<p>Wounded at Sheria, Palestine, in November 1917. I was sent
+to the nearest railhead in a motor-ambulance. A fellow-passenger&mdash;also
+from a London battalion&mdash;was wounded very badly in both thighs.
+The orderly who tucked him up on his stretcher before the start asked
+him if he would like a drink.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks, chum&mdash;not nah," he replied; "but you might arsk the
+driver to pull up at the ole Markis o' Granby, and we'll all 'ave one!"</p>
+
+<p>I heard later that he died in hospital.&mdash;<i>C. Dickens (late 2/20th London
+Regiment), 18 Wheathill Road, Anerley, S.E.20.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A One-Legged Turn</h3>
+
+<p>Wounded about half an hour after the final attack on Gaza, I
+awoke to consciousness in the M.O.'s dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor old concert party," he said; "you're the fifth 'Ragamuffin'
+to come down."</p>
+
+<p>Eventually I found myself sharing a mule-cart with another wounded
+man, but he lay so motionless and quiet that I feared I was about to
+journey from the line in a hearse.</p>
+
+<p>The jolting of the cart apparently jerked a little life into him, for he
+asked me, "Got a fag, mate?" With a struggle I lighted my one
+remaining cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>After a while I asked him, "Where did you catch it, old fellow?"
+"Lumme," he replied, "if it ain't old George's voice." Then I recognised
+Sam, the comedian of our troupe.</p>
+
+<p>"Got it pretty rotten in the leg," he added.</p>
+
+<p>"Will it put paid to your comedy act, Sammy?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Dunno," he replied with a sigh in his voice&mdash;"I'm tryin' to fink
+'art a one-legged step dance."&mdash;<i>G. W. Turner (late 11th London Regt.),
+10 Sunny View, Kingsbury, N.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="HIGH_SEAS" id="HIGH_SEAS">4. HIGH SEAS</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>The Skipper's Cigar</h3>
+
+<p>Bradley (a Deptford flower-seller before joining up) was the
+"comic" of the stokers' mess deck.</p>
+
+<p>He was always late in returning from shore leave. One Monday
+morning he returned half an hour "adrift," and was promptly taken
+before the skipper.</p>
+
+<p>The skipper, a jovial old sort, asked him his reason for being adrift
+again, and Bradley replied:</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, Townsend and me were waiting for the liberty boat, and
+I was telling him that if ever I sees the skipper round Deptford I'll let
+him 'ave a 'bob' bunch of flowers for a 'tanner,' and we looked round
+and the blinkin' boat was gorne."</p>
+
+<p>The skipper smiled and dismissed him. On Christmas Day Bradley
+received a packet containing a cigar in it, with the following written on
+the box:</p>
+
+<p>"For the best excuse of the year.&mdash;F. H. C., Capt."</p>
+
+<p>I saw Bradley three years ago and he told me he still had that cigar
+in a glass case with his medals.&mdash;<i>F. H. (late Stoker, R.N.), 18 Little Ilford
+Lane, Manor Park, E.12.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Breaking the Spell</h3>
+
+<p>We were in a twelve-inch gun turret in a ship during the Dogger
+Bank action. The ship had been hit several times and big explosions
+had scorched the paint and done other damage. There came a lull
+in the firing, and with all of us more or less badly shaken there was a
+queer silence. Our captain decided to break it. Looking round
+at the walls of the turret he remarked in a Cockney, stuttering voice:
+"Well, lads, this blinking turret couldn't 'arf do with a coat of paint."&mdash;<i>J.
+Bone, 84 Victoria Road, Surbiton.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A V.C.'s Story of Friendship</h3>
+
+<p>A transport packed with troops and horses for the Dardanelles
+was suddenly hailed by a German cruiser and the captain was
+given a few minutes in which to abandon ship.</p>
+
+<p>One young soldier was found with his arms round his horse's neck,
+sobbing bitterly, and when ordered to the boats he stubbornly refused to
+move. "Where my white-faced Willie goes <i>I</i> goes," he said proudly.</p>
+
+<p>His loyalty to his dumb friend was rewarded, for the German cruiser
+fired twice at the transport, missed each time, and before a third effort
+British destroyers were on the scene to chase her away. It was then the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+young soldier had the laugh over his friends, for they in many cases
+arrived back on the ship half frozen and soaked to the skin!&mdash;<i>A
+Colonel, who wishes to remain anonymous: he holds the V.C., D.S.O.,
+and M.C.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Stoker Sums it Up</h3>
+
+<p>I was on a large transport (normally a freighter), which had just
+arrived at a port on the East African coast, very rusty, and with a
+very un-naval-looking crew. We were taken in charge by a very small
+but immaculate gun-boat.</p>
+
+<p>Orders were shouted to us by megaphone, and our men were leaning
+over the side watching the gun-boat rather enviously, when a Poplar
+stoker came up from below for a "breather," and summed up his mates'
+feelings in eight words.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 516px;">
+<img src="images/i189.jpg" width="516" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Cupping his hands about his mouth, he shouted in a voice of thunder:
+"<i>Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?</i>"&mdash;<i>R. N. Spence (late Lieutenant,
+R.N.V.R.), 214 Croydon Road, Beckenham.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Channel Swimming his Next Job</h3>
+
+<p>During the war I had to fly a machine over to France. I had as
+passenger a Cockney Tommy who had recently transferred from the
+infantry to the R.F.C., and was joining his unit overseas.</p>
+
+<p>Half-way over the Channel my engine failed and I glided down towards
+the nearest boat I could see. The landing was not very successful;
+the under-carriage struck the crest of a wave and the aeroplane hit the
+water almost vertically.</p>
+
+<p>We were both thrown out, my passenger being somewhat badly
+knocked about in the process. We clung to the almost submerged
+wreckage and gazed hopefully towards the vessel I had sighted. She
+continued on her course, however.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i190.jpg" width="600" height="531" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I know me way across nah!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The machine soon sank and we were left bobbing about in our life-belts.
+Things began to look far from bright, especially as my Cockney observer
+was in a pretty bad way by now. Suddenly the sun broke through
+the clouds, and the white cliffs of Grisnez, about eight miles away,
+stood out clearly.</p>
+
+<p>"What's them hills, sir?" asked Tommy.</p>
+
+<p>"Cape Grisnez, where Burgess landed after his Channel swim," I
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Blimey," he said, "if we ever gets out of this perishing mess, and I
+can't get me old job back after the war, I'll be a blooming Channel
+swimmer. I know the ruddy way across nah."&mdash;<i>"Pilot R.F.C.," London,
+W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>It <i>Was</i> a Collapsible Boat</h3>
+
+<p>I was one of the survivors of the transport ship <i>Leasowe Castle</i>. Just
+before she took her final plunge, I was standing on deck when an
+empty boat was seen drifting near by. Our section officer called for
+swimmers, and five or six men went overboard in a jiffy and brought the
+boat alongside.</p>
+
+<p>There was a bit of a scuffle to get over the rail and into the boat, and
+one man jumped straight into her from a height of about thirty feet.
+To our dismay he went clean through&mdash;it was a collapsible boat!</p>
+
+<p>No sooner had this happened than a typical Cockney voice said:
+"Blimey, he's got the anchor in his pocket, I'll bet yer!"&mdash;<i>G. P. Gregory
+(late 272 M.G. Company), 107 Tunkar Street, Greenwich.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Luck in Odd Numbers</h3>
+
+<p>We were on board H.M.S. <i>Sharpshooter</i>, doing patrol off the Belgian
+coast. The signalman on watch, who happened to be a Cockney,
+suddenly yelled out: "Aeroplane on the starboard bow, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The "old man," being fairly tired after a night of rain, said: "All
+right, it's only a friendly going back home."</p>
+
+<p>About two minutes later the plane dropped three bombs, the last of
+which was much too close to be comfortable.</p>
+
+<p>After our friend the signalman had wiped the splash off his face he
+turned round to the First Lieutenant and casually remarked: "Strike!
+It's a thundering good job he wasn't hostile or he might have hit us."&mdash;<i>R.
+Walmsley, D.S.M., 47 Watcombe Road, South Norwood, S.E.25.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Your Barf, Sir!"</h3>
+
+<p>We were a mixed crowd on board the old <i>Archangel</i> returning "off
+leave" from Southampton to Havre on the night of January 6,
+1917. The sea was calm, and a moon made conditions ideal for Jerry's
+"skimmers."</p>
+
+<p>When we were well under way I chummed up with a typical son of the
+Mile End Road, one of the Middlesex men, and we talked for some
+time whilst watching the long, white zig-zag wake.</p>
+
+<p>Then he suggested looking for a "kip." After nosing around several
+dark corners, a strip of carpet along the alley between the first-class
+cabins appealed to us, and quietly unslinging kit and putting our packs
+for a pillow, we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. During the
+process my pal jerked his thumb towards the closed doors and whispered
+"Orficers."</p>
+
+<p>How long we had been asleep I don't know, but we were rudely
+awakened by a dull booming thud and a sound of splintering wood,
+and at the same time we were jolted heavily against the cabins. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
+hurriedly scrambled to our feet, looked at each other (no need to ask what
+had happened!), then grabbed our kit and made for the deck.</p>
+
+<p>As my companion passed the last cabin he banged on the door with his
+fist and called out: "Oi, yer barf'll be ready in a minute, sir!"&mdash;<i>A. E.
+Ulyett, 41 Smith Terrace, King's Road, Chelsea, S.W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Mind My Coat"</h3>
+
+<p>Middle watch, H.M.S. <i>Bulldog</i> on patrol off the Dardanelles:
+a dirty and a black night. A shout of "Man overboard!" from
+the fore-gun crew.... We located an A.B. in the water, and with a
+long boat-hook caught his coat and pulled him towards the boat. As
+he drew nearer he cried: "Don't pull so bloomin' hard; you'll tear my
+blinkin' coat!"</p>
+
+<p>Then we knew it was our "Ginger," from Poplar. Now "Ginger"
+has the life-saving medal. A few weeks after his ducking the ship
+struck a mine and the after-part went west: "Ginger" was discovered
+in the water, having gone in after a wounded sub-lieutenant who had
+been blown overboard.&mdash;<i>Henry J. Wood, D.S.M., 19 Gracechurch Street,
+E.C.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Wot's the Game&mdash;Musical Chairs?"</h3>
+
+<p>It was a bitterly cold day in December, somewhere in the North
+Sea. A section of mine-sweepers were engaged clearing an area well
+sown by Jerry's submarines. Suddenly the expected happened, and in
+a few minutes one of the sweepers was settling down fast by the stern.</p>
+
+<p>Those who did not "go west" in the explosion were with difficulty
+picked up; among them was a Cockney stoker rating. He arrived on
+board, wet, cold, and pretty well "pumped," and the bo'sun's peg
+of rum had almost disappeared between his chattering teeth when there
+was another explosion, and once again he was in a sinking ship.</p>
+
+<p>His reply to the order "abandon ship," which he had heard for the
+second time within half an hour, was: "Wot blinkin' game's this&mdash;musical
+chairs?"&mdash;<i>H. Waterworth, 32 Grasmere Road, Muswell Hill,
+N.10 (late Engineer-Lieutenant, R.N.R. (retired)).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Voice in the Dark</h3>
+
+<p>Dawn of a day in March 1917 found Submarine F3 on patrol
+near the Terschelling lightship. As we broke surface two German
+destroyers were seen only a few hundred yards away. We immediately
+dived again, and shortly afterwards the depth charges began to explode.
+Lower and lower we went until we touched the bottom.</p>
+
+<p>Bangs to the right of us, bangs to the left of us, bangs above us&mdash;then
+one glorious big bang and out went the lights.</p>
+
+<p>Deadly silence, and then out of the darkness came the voice of our
+Battersea bunting-tosser&mdash;"Anyone got six pennorth o' coppers?"&mdash;<i>Frederick
+J. H. Alsford, 78 North Street, S.W.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Why the Stoker Washed</h3>
+
+<p>H.M.Q. ship 18 was sinking sixty miles off the French coast as the
+result of gun-fire, after destroying a German submarine.</p>
+
+<p>After getting away we had a hurried call-over and found that a Cockney
+fireman was missing. We hailed the ship which seemed about to take
+the plunge any minute, and at last the stoker appeared, spotlessly clean
+and dressed in "ducks."</p>
+
+<p>He had to jump and swim for it. As we hauled him to our boat we
+asked him why he had waited to clean himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he explained, "if I am going to hell there's no need to let the
+blighter know I'm a stoker."&mdash;<i>Wm. C. Barnaby (late Chief Coxswain,
+R.N.), 7 Seville Street, Knightsbridge, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Accounts Rendered</h3>
+
+<p>The First-Lieutenant of a warship I was in, though a first-class
+sailor, had no great liking for clerical work, consequently the ship's
+store-books were perhaps not quite as they should have been.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i193.jpg" width="600" height="473" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Well, <i>that</i> clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He therefore got an Able Seaman (who had been a London clerk in
+civil life) to give him a hand in his "off watches" in putting the books
+in order.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards the ship stopped a torpedo and sank in eight
+minutes. Before the First-Lieutenant had very much time to look
+round he found himself in the "ditch."</p>
+
+<p>As he was clambering out of the water on to the bottom of an upturned
+boat, he saw his "Chief Accountant" climbing up the other side, and
+the first thing he did was to reach out and shake hands with the A.B.
+across the keel of the boat, at the same time remarking, "Well, <i>that</i>
+clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."&mdash;<i>John Bowman (Able Seaman,
+R.N.V.R.), 19 Handel Mansions, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>An Ocean Greyhound</h3>
+
+<p>On one occasion when the <i>Diligence</i> was "somewhere in the North
+Sea," shore leave was granted.</p>
+
+<p>One of the sailors, a Cockney, returned to the ship with his jumper
+"rather swollen." The officer of the watch noticed something furry
+sticking out of the bottom of his jumper, and at once asked where he had
+got it from, fearing, probably, that he had been poaching.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 516px;">
+<img src="images/i194.jpg" width="516" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"... To Nurse it Back to 'Ealth and Strength."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>The Cockney thought furiously for a moment and then said: "I
+chased it round the Church Army hut, sir, until it got giddy and fell over,
+and so I picked it up and brought it aboard to nurse it back to 'ealth
+and strength."&mdash;<i>J. S. Cowland, 65 Tylney Road, Forest Gate, E.7.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Margate In Mespot.</h3>
+
+<p>October 29, 1914&mdash;England declares war on Turkey and transports
+laden with troops sail from Bombay.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, within a week, these transports anchor off the flat Mesopotamian
+coast at the top of the Persian Gulf. In one ship, a county
+regiment (95 per cent. countrymen, the remainder Cockney) is ordered
+to be the first to land. H.M.S. <i>Ocean</i> sends her cutters and lifeboats,
+and into these tumble the platoons at dusk, to be rowed across a shallow
+"bar."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 425px;">
+<img src="images/i195.jpg" width="425" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Wot price this fer Margate?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Under cover of an inky darkness they arrive close to the beach by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+midnight. It is very cold, and all feel it the more because the kit worn
+is shorts and light khaki shirts.</p>
+
+<p>In the stone-cold silence a whisper passes from boat to boat&mdash;"<i>Remove
+puttees; tie boots round the neck; at signal, boats to row in until grounded;
+platoons to disembark and wade ashore</i>."</p>
+
+<p>So a shadowy line of strange-looking waders is dimly to be seen advancing
+through the shallow water and up the beach&mdash;in extended order,
+grim and frozen stiff. As dawn breaks they reach the sandy beach, and a
+few shots ring out from the distant Fort of Fas&mdash;but no one cares. Each
+and all are looking amazedly at the grotesque appearance of the line&mdash;silent,
+miserable figures, boots wagging round their necks, shorts rolled as
+high as possible, while their frozen fingers obediently cling to rifles and
+ammunition.</p>
+
+<p>It is too much for one soul, and a Cockney voice calls out: "'Ere, wot
+price this fer Margate?"</p>
+
+<p>The spell is broken. The Mesopotamian campaign begins with a great
+laugh!&mdash;<i>John Fiton, M.C., A.F.C., 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden City,
+Herts.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Urgent and Personal!</h3>
+
+<p>The ss. <i>Oxfordshire</i>, then a hospital ship, was on her way down from
+Dar-es-salaam to Cape Town when she received an S.O.S. from
+H.M.T. <i>Tyndareus</i>, which had been mined off Cape Agulhas, very near
+the spot where the famous <i>Birkenhead</i> sank.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>Tyndareus</i> had on board the 26th (Pioneer) Battalion, Middlesex
+Regiment, under the command of Colonel John Ward, then on their
+way to Hong Kong.</p>
+
+<p>As the hospital boat drew near it was seen that the <i>Tyndareus</i> was very
+low in the water, and across the water we could hear the troops singing
+"Tipperary" as they stood lined up on the decks.</p>
+
+<p>The lifeboats from both ships were quickly at work, every patient
+capable of lending a hand doing all he could to help. Soon we had
+hundreds of the Middlesex aboard, some pulled roughly up the side,
+others climbing rope-ladders hastily thrown down. They were in
+various stages of undress, some arriving clad only in pants.</p>
+
+<p>On the deck came one who, pulled up by eager hands, landed on all
+fours with a bump. As he got up, hands and toes bleeding from contact
+with the side of the vessel, I was delighted to recognise an old London
+acquaintance. The following dialogue took place:</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span>: Hallo, Bill! Fancy meeting you like this! Hurt much?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bill</span>: Not much. Seen Nobby Clark? Has he got away all right?</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Myself</span> (<i>not knowing Nobby Clark</i>): I don't know. I expect so;
+there are hundreds of your pals aboard.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Bill</span>: So long. See you later. Must find Nobby; he collared the
+"kitty" when that blinking boat got hit!&mdash;<i>J. P. Mansell (late) 25th
+Royal Fusiliers.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Victoria! (Very Cross)</h3>
+
+<p>While I was an A.B. aboard H.M.S. <i>Aboukir</i> somewhere in the
+North Sea we received a signal that seven German destroyers
+were heading for us at full speed. We were ordered at the double to
+action stations.</p>
+
+<p>My pal, a Cockney, weighing about 18 stone, found it hard to keep up
+with the others, and the commander angrily asked him, "Where is your
+station?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 435px;">
+<img src="images/i197.jpg" width="435" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Where's your station?"<br />
+"Victoria&mdash;if I could only get there."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>To which the Cockney replied, "Victoria&mdash;if I could only get there."&mdash;<i>J.
+Hearn, 24 Christchurch Street, S.W.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Saw the Force of It</h3>
+
+<p>In February 1915 we beat out our weary patrol near the Scillies.
+Our ship met such heavy weather that only the bravest souls could
+keep a cheery countenance. Running into a growing storm, and unable
+to turn from the racing head seas, we beat out our unwilling way into
+the Atlantic.</p>
+
+<p>Three days later we limped back to base with injured men, hatches
+stove in, winch pipes and boats torn away. Our forward gun was
+smashed and leaned over at a drunken angle.</p>
+
+<p>Early in the morning the crew were taking a well-earned rest, and the
+decks were deserted but for the usual stoker, taking a breath of air after
+his stand-by watch. A dockyard official, seeing our damage, came on
+board, and, after viewing the wrecked gun at close quarters, turned to
+the stoker with the remark: "Do you mean to say that the sea smashed
+a heavy gun like that, my man?"</p>
+
+<p>The stoker, spitting with uncanny accuracy at a piece of floating wood
+overside, looked at the official: "Nah," he said, "it wasn't the blinking
+sea; the ryne done it!"&mdash;<i>A. Marsden (Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander,
+R.N.), Norbrook Cottage, Leith Park Road, Gravesend.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>New Skin&mdash;Brand New!</h3>
+
+<p>Two mines&mdash;explosion&mdash;many killed&mdash;hundreds drowned. We were
+sinking fast. I scrambled quickly out of my hammock and up the
+hatchway. On deck, leaning against the bulkhead, was a shipmate,
+burned from head to foot. More amazing than fiction was his philosophy
+and coolness as he hailed me with, "'Cher, Darby! Got a fag? I
+ain't had a 'bine since Pa died." I was practically "in the nude,"
+and could not oblige him. Three years later I was taking part at a
+sports meeting at Dunkirk when I was approached by&mdash;to me&mdash;a total
+stranger. "What 'cher, Darby&mdash;ain't dead yet then. What! Don't
+you remember H.M.S. <i>Russell</i>? Of course I've altered a bit now&mdash;new
+skin&mdash;just like a two-year-old&mdash;brand new." Brand new externally,
+but the philosophy was unaltered.&mdash;<i>"Darby," 405 Valence Avenue,
+Chadwell Heath, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Zeebrugge Memory</h3>
+
+<p>During the raid on Zeebrugge, one of our number had his arms
+blown away. When things quietened a little my chum and I laid
+him on a mess table and proceeded to tend his wounds. My chum tried
+to light the mess-deck "bogey" (fire), the chimney of which had been
+removed for the action. After the match had been applied, we soon
+found ourselves in a fog. Then the wounded man remarked: "I say,
+chum! If I'm going to die, let's die a white man, not a black 'un." The
+poor fellow died before reaching harbour.&mdash;<i>W. A. Brooks, 14 Ramsden
+Road, N.11.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Another Perch in the Roost</h3>
+
+<p>On the morning of September 22, 1914, when the cruisers <i>Aboukir</i>,
+<i>Hogue</i>, and <i>Cressy</i> were torpedoed, we were dotted about in the water,
+helping each other where possible and all trying to get some support.
+When one piece got overloaded it meant the best swimmers trying their
+luck elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>Such was my position, when I saw a piece of wreckage resembling a
+chicken coop, large enough to support four men. I reached it just ahead
+of another man who had been badly scalded.</p>
+
+<p>We were both exhausted and unable to help another man coming
+towards us. He was nearly done, and my companion, seeing his condition,
+shouted between breaths: "Come along, ole cock. Shake yer
+bloomin' feavers. There's a perch 'ere for anover rooster."</p>
+
+<p>Both were stokers on watch when torpedoed, and in a bad state from
+scalds. Exposure did the rest. I was alone, when picked up.&mdash;<i>W.
+Stevens (late R.M.L.I.), 23 Lower Range Road, Denton, near Gravesend.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Uncomfortable Cargo</h3>
+
+<p>(<i>A 12-in. shell weighs about 8 cwt. High explosives were painted yellow
+and "common" painted black.</i>)</p>
+
+<p>In October 1914 H.M.S. <i>Venerable</i> was bombarding the Belgian coast
+and Thames tugs were pressed into service to carry ammunition to
+ships taking part in the bombardment.</p>
+
+<p>The sea was pretty rough when a tug came alongside the <i>Venerable</i>
+loaded with 12-in. shells, both high explosive and common. Deck hands
+jumped down into the tug to sling the shells on the hoist. The tug
+skipper, seeing them jumping on the high explosives, shouted: "Hi!
+dahn there! Stop jumping on them yaller 'uns"; and, turning to the
+Commander, who was leaning over the ship's rail directing operations,
+he called out: "Get them yaller 'uns aht fust, guvnor, or them blokes
+dahn there 'll blow us sky high."&mdash;<i>A. Gill, 21 Down Road, Teddington,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Good Old "Vernon"</h3>
+
+<p>Several areas in the North Sea were protected by mines, which
+came from the torpedo depot ship, H.M.S. <i>Vernon</i>. The mines
+floated several feet below the surface, being kept in position by means
+of wires attached to sinkers.</p>
+
+<p>In my submarine we had encountered very bad weather and were
+uncertain of our exact position. The weather got so bad that we were
+forced to cruise forty feet below the surface.</p>
+
+<p>Everything was very still in the control room. The only movements
+were an occasional turn of the hydroplanes, or a twist at the wheel,
+at which sat "Shorty" Harris, a real hard case from Shadwell.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly we were startled by a scraping sound along the port side.
+Before we could put our thoughts into words there came an ominous
+bump on the starboard side. <i>Bump!</i> ... <i>bump!</i> ... seven distinct<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+thuds against the hull. No one moved, and every nerve was taut. Then
+"Shorty" broke the tension with, "Good old <i>Vernon</i>, another blinkin'
+dud."&mdash;<i>T. White, 31 Empress Avenue, Ilford.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Any Time's Kissing Time!</h3>
+
+<p>A torpedo-boat destroyer engaged on transport duty in the
+Channel in 1916 had been cut in two by collision whilst steaming
+with lights out. A handful of men on the after-part, which alone remained
+afloat, were rescued after several hours by another destroyer,
+just as the after-part sank.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i200.jpg" width="600" height="523" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss me?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>A howling gale was raging and some of the survivors had to swim
+for it.</p>
+
+<p>As the first swimmer reached the heaving side of the rescuing ship he
+was caught by willing hands and hauled on board.</p>
+
+<p>When he got his breath he stood up and, shaking himself to clear the
+water somewhat from his dripping clothes, looked around with a smile
+at the "hands" near by and said: "Well, ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss
+me?"&mdash;<i>J. W., Bromley, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Fag End</h3>
+
+<p>The captain of the troopship <i>Transylvania</i> had just called the
+famous "Every man for himself" order after the boat had received
+two torpedoes from a submarine.</p>
+
+<p>The nurses had been got off safely in a boat, but our own prospects of
+safety seemed very remote. Along came a Cockney with his cigarettes
+and the remark, "Who'll 'ave a fag afore they get wet?"&mdash;<i>A. W. Harvey,
+97 Elderfield Road, Clapton, E.5 (late 10th London Regiment).</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Spotty" the Jonah</h3>
+
+<p>On board the s.s. <i>Lorrento</i> in 1917 with me was one "Spotty" Smith,
+A.B., of London. He had been torpedoed five times, and was
+reputed to be the sole survivor on the last two occasions. Such a Jonah-like
+reputation brought him more interest than affection from sailormen.</p>
+
+<p>Approaching Bizerta&mdash;a danger spot in the South Mediterranean&mdash;one
+dark night, all lights out, "Spotty" so far forgot himself as to strike
+matches on deck. In lurid and forcible language the mate requested
+him "not to beat his infernal record on this ship."</p>
+
+<p>"Spotty," intent on turning away wrath, replied, "S'elp me, sir,
+I've 'ad enough of me heroic past. This next time, sir, I made up
+me mind to go down with the rest of the crew!"&mdash;<i>J. E. Drury, 77 Eridge
+Road, Thornton Heath.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He Just Caught the Bus!</h3>
+
+<p>After an arduous spell of patrol duty, our submarine had hove to
+to allow the crew a much-needed breather and smoke. For this
+purpose only the conning-tower hatch was opened so as to be ready to
+submerge, if necessity arose, with the minimum of delay.</p>
+
+<p>Eager to take full advantage of this refreshing interlude, the crew
+had emerged, one by one, through the conning-tower and had disposed
+themselves in sprawling attitudes around the upper deck space, resting,
+reading, smoking.</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough, soon the alarm was given, "Smoke seen on the horizon."</p>
+
+<p>The order "Diving stations" was given and, hastily scuttling down
+the conning-tower, the crew rapidly had the boat submerging, to leave
+only the periscope visible.</p>
+
+<p>The commander kept the boat slowly cruising with his periscope trained
+on the approaching smoke, ready for anything. Judge of his amazement
+when his view was obscured by the face of "Nobby" Clark (our Cockney
+A.B.) at the other end of the periscope. Realising at once that "Nobby"
+had been locked out (actually he had fallen asleep and had been rudely
+awakened by his cold plunge), we, of course, "broke surface" to collect
+frightened, half-drowned "Nobby," whose only ejaculation was:
+"Crikey! I ain't half glad I caught the ole bus."&mdash;<i>J. Brodie, 177 Manor
+Road, Mitcham, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Dinner before Mines!</h3>
+
+<p>"Somewhere in the North Sea" in 1917, when I was a stoker on
+H.M.S. <i>Champion</i>, there were plenty of floating mines about.</p>
+
+<p>One day, several of us were waiting outside the galley (cook house) for
+our dinners, and the cook, a man from Walworth, was shouting out the
+number of messes marked on the meat dishes which were ready for the
+men to take away.</p>
+
+<p>He had one dish in his hand with no number marked on it, when a
+stoker rushed up and shouted: "We nearly struck a mine&mdash;missed it by
+inches, Cookey." But Cookey only shouted back: "Never mind about
+blinkin' mines nah; is this <i>your</i> perishin' dish with no tally on it?"&mdash;<i>W.
+Downs (late stoker, R.N.), 20 Tracey Street, Kennington Road, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Philosopher at Sea</h3>
+
+<p>We were a helpless, sorry crowd, many of us with legs in splints,
+in the hold of a "hospital" ship crossing from Boulogne. The boat
+stopped dead.</p>
+
+<p>"What are we stopping for, mate?" one man asked the orderly.</p>
+
+<p>"The destroyers wot's escortin' of us is chasin' a German submarine.
+I'm just a-goin' on deck agin to see wot's doin'." As he got to the ladder
+he turned to say: "Nah, you blokes: if we gits 'it by a torpedo don't
+go gettin' the ruddy wind up an' start rushin' abaht tryin' ter git on deck.
+It won't do yer wounds no bloomin' good!"&mdash;<i>E. Bundy (late L/Corporal,
+1/5th L.F.A., 47th Division), 4 Upton Gardens, Barkingside, Ilford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Extra Heavyweight</h3>
+
+<p>Amongst the crew of our mine-sweeper during the war "Sparks,"
+the wireless operator, was a hefty, fat chap, weighing about 18 stone.
+One day while clearing up a mine-field, laid overnight by a submarine,
+we had the misfortune to have four or five of the mines explode in the
+"sweep."</p>
+
+<p>The explosion shattered every piece of glass in the ship, put the engines
+out of action, and nearly blew the ship out of the water.</p>
+
+<p>"Bill," one of our stokers&mdash;a Cockney who, being off watch, was
+asleep in his bunk&mdash;sat up, yawned, and exclaimed in a sleepy voice:
+"'Ullo, poor ole 'Sparks' fallen out of 'is bunk again! 'E'll 'urt 'isself
+one of these days!"&mdash;<i>R.N.V.R., Old Windsor, Berks.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Three Varieties</h3>
+
+<p>The boat on which I was serving as a stoker had just received two
+new men as stokers.</p>
+
+<p>On coming down the stokehold one of them seemed intent on finding
+out what different perils could happen to him.</p>
+
+<p>After he had been inquiring for about an hour a little Cockney, rather
+bored, got up and said, "Now look here, mate. The job ain't so bad,
+looking at it in this light&mdash;you've three ways of snuffing it: one is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+<i>burnt</i> to death, the other is <i>scalded</i> to death; or, if you're damn lucky,
+<i>drowned</i>. That's more chances than they have upstairs."&mdash;<i>B. Scott
+(late Stoker, H.M.S. "Marlborough"), 29 Stanley Road, Southend-on-Sea,
+Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>He was a Bigger Fish</h3>
+
+<p>The battleship in which I was serving was picking up survivors
+from a torpedoed merchantman in the North Atlantic. They had
+been drifting about for hours clinging to upturned boats and bits of gear
+that had floated clear of the wreckage.</p>
+
+<p>Our boat had picked up three or four half-drowned men and was just
+about to return to the ship when we espied a fat sailor bobbing about
+with his arms around a plank. We pulled up close to him and the bow-man
+leaned out with a boat-hook and drew him alongside.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i203.jpg" width="600" height="506" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Wot d'yer fink I am&mdash;a blinkin' tiddler?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He seemed to have just strength enough left to grasp the gunwale,
+when we were surprised to hear him shout, in an unmistakable Cockney
+voice: "All right, Cockey, un'itch that boat 'ook. Wot d'yer fink I
+am&mdash;a blinkin' tiddler?"&mdash;<i>Leslie E. Austin, 6 Northumberland Avenue,
+Squirrels Heath, Romford, Essex.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The "Arethusa" Touch</h3>
+
+<p>During the action off Heligoland in August 1914 the light cruiser
+<i>Arethusa</i> came under a hot fire. A shell penetrated the chief stoker's
+mess, knocked a drawer full of flour all over the deck, but luckily failed
+to explode.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney stoker standing in the mess had a narrow escape, but after
+surveying the wreckage and flour-covered deck all he said was: "Blowed
+if they ain't trying to make a blinkin' duff in our mess!"&mdash;<i>C. H. Cook
+(Lieut., R.N.V.R.), 91 Great Russell Street, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>His Chance to Dive</h3>
+
+<p>During the early part of 1917, whilst I was serving with one of H.M.
+transports, we had occasion to call at Panama for coaling purposes
+before proceeding to England via New York.</p>
+
+<p>One of our many Cockney sailors was a fine swimmer and diver. He
+took every opportunity to have what he termed "a couple of dives."</p>
+
+<p>Owing to the water being rather shallow immediately along the quay,
+his diving exhibitions were limited to nothing higher than the forecastle,
+which was some 30 ft. His one desire, however, was to dive from the
+boat-deck, which was about 60 ft. Whilst steaming later in the front
+line of our convoy, which numbered about forty-two ships, we became the
+direct target of a deadly torpedo. Every soul dashed for the lifeboats.</p>
+
+<p>After things had somewhat subsided I found our Cockney friend&mdash;disregarding
+the fact that our ship was badly damaged and was now listing
+at an almost impossible angle&mdash;posing rather gracefully for a dive. He
+shouted, "Hi! hi! Wot abaht this 'un? I told yer I could do it easy!"
+He then dived gracefully and swam to a lifeboat.&mdash;<i>Bobbie George Bull
+(late Mercantile Marine), 40 Warren Road, Leyton, E.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Wot Abaht Wot?</h3>
+
+<p>In 1917 our job on an armed merchantman, H.M.A.S. <i>Marmora</i>, was
+to escort food ships through the danger zone. One trip we were going
+to Sierra Leone, but in the middle of the afternoon, when about two days
+out from Cardiff, we were torpedoed.</p>
+
+<p>The old ship came to a standstill and we all proceeded to action stations.
+Just as we were training our guns in the direction of the submarine
+another torpedo struck us amidships and smashed practically all the
+boats on the port side.</p>
+
+<p>"Abandon ship" was given, as we were slowly settling down by the
+bows. Our boat was soon crowded out, and there seemed not enough
+room for a cat. The last man down the life-line was "Tubby," our
+cook's mate, who came from Poplar.</p>
+
+<p>When he was about half way down the boat was cut adrift and
+"Tubby" was left hanging in mid-air. "Hi!" he shouted. "What
+abaht it?"</p>
+
+<p>Another Cockney (from Battersea) replied: "What abaht what?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Abaht coming back for me."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you take us for," said the lad from Battersea; "do yer
+fink we all want the sack fer overcrowdin'?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tubby" was, of course, picked up after a slight immersion.&mdash;<i>C.
+Phelps (late R.M.L.I.), 36 Oxford Road, Putney, S.W.15.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Water on the Watch</h3>
+
+<p>I was one of the crew of a patrol boat at the Nore in the winter of
+1915. Most of the crew had gone to the dockyard to draw stores and
+provisions, and I was down in the forecastle when I heard a shout for
+help. I nipped up on
+deck and discovered that
+our Cockney stoker had
+fallen overboard. He was
+trying to swim for dear
+life, though handicapped
+by a pair of sea boots and
+canvas overalls over his
+ordinary sailor's rig. A
+strong tide was running
+and was carrying him
+away from the boat.</p>
+
+<p>I threw a coil of rope
+to him, and after a
+struggle I managed to
+haul him aboard. I took
+him down to the boiler
+room and stripped off his
+clothes.</p>
+
+<p>Around his neck was
+tied a bootlace, on the
+end of which was hanging
+a metal watch, which he
+told me he had bought
+the day before for five
+shillings. The watch was
+full of sea water, and
+there was an air bubble
+inside the glass. As he
+held it in his hand he
+looked at it with disgust.
+When I said to him what
+a wonderful escape his
+wife had had from being left a widow, he replied, "Yes, it was a near
+fing, ole' mate, but wot abaht me blinkin' bran' noo watch? It's gone
+and turned itself into a perishin' spirit level, and I've dipped five
+bob."&mdash;<i>W. Carter, 55 Minet Avenue, Harlesden, N.W.10.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 374px;">
+<img src="images/i205.jpg" width="374" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"A perishin' spirit level."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Gallant Tar</h3>
+
+<p>An awe-inspiring sight met the eyes of the 29th Division as they came
+into view of Gallipoli on the morning of April 25, 1915. Shells from
+our ships were bursting all over that rugged coast, and those from the
+enemy bespattered the water around us.</p>
+
+<p>While I gazed at the scene from the deck of the <i>Andania</i>, carried away
+by the grandeur of it all, my reverie was broken by a Cockney voice from
+the sailor in charge of the small boat that was to take us ashore.
+"'Op in, mate," said the sailor. "I've just lorst three boats. I
+reckon I'll soon have to take the blooming island meself."</p>
+
+<p>His fourth trip was successfully accomplished, but the fifth, alas! was
+fatal both to this gallant tar and to the occupants of his boat.&mdash;<i>G. Pull
+(late 1st R. Innis. Fus.), 20 Friars Place Lane, Acton, W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Cap for Jerry</h3>
+
+<p>Dawn, September 1, 1917, H.M. destroyer <i>Rosalind</i> was engaged with
+enemy ships off Jutland. I was serving on one of the guns, and we
+were approaching the enemy at full speed. The ship was vibrating from
+end to end, and the gun fire, the bursting of shells, and the smell of the
+cordite had got our nerves at high tension.</p>
+
+<p>When we were very near the enemy one of the German ships blew up
+completely in a smothering cloud of smoke.</p>
+
+<p>At this time something went wrong with our ammunition supply, and
+we had used up all that we usually carried on the gun platform. One of
+the gun's crew, a Cockney, put his cap in the breech, and said "Quick!
+Send 'em this to put the lid on that blinkin' chimney." We all had to
+laugh, and carried on.&mdash;<i>W. E. M. (late H.M.S. "Rosalind"), 19 Kimberley
+Road, Leytonstone, E.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Give 'im 'is Trumpet Back</h3>
+
+<p>After the <i>Britannia</i> was torpedoed in November 1918, and the
+order "Abandon Ship" had been given, the crew had to make their
+way as best they could to a destroyer which had pulled up alongside.</p>
+
+<p>Hawsers were run from the <i>Britannia</i> to the destroyer, down which we
+swarmed. Some got across. Others were not so lucky. One of the
+unlucky ones who had a free bath was a Cockney stoker nicknamed
+"Shorty," who, after splashing and struggling about, managed to get
+near the destroyer.</p>
+
+<p>To help him a burly marine dangled a rope and wooden bucket over
+the side, this being the only means of rescue available. The marine,
+who was puffing at a large meerschaum pipe, called out: "Here y'are,
+Shorty, grab 'old o' this bucket an' mind yer don't drown yerself in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Shorty" makes sure of bucket, then wipes the water from his eyes,
+looks up to the marine, and says: "Garn, give the kid 'is trumpet
+back."&mdash;<i>G. Lowe (ex-R.M.L.I.), 18 Brocas Street, Eton, Bucks.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Getting the Range</h3>
+
+<p>It was on H.M. monitor <i>General Wolfe</i>, my first ship, and this was my
+first taste of actual warfare.</p>
+
+<p>We were lying anchored off the Belgian coast, shelling an inland
+objective with our 18-in. gun, the ammunition for which, by the way,
+was stowed on the upper deck.</p>
+
+<p>All ratings other than this gun's crew were standing by for "action
+stations." Just then the shore batteries opened fire on us. The first
+shot fell short, the next went over.</p>
+
+<p>A Cockney member of my gun's crew explained it thus: "That's wot
+they calls a straddle," he said. "They finds our range that way&mdash;one
+short, one over, and the next 'arf way between. Got a 'bine on yer
+before it's too late?"&mdash;<i>Regd. W. Ayres (late A.B., R.N.), 50 Lewisham
+High Road, New Cross, S.E. 14.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Coco-nut Shies</h3>
+
+<p>Early in 1915 I was attached to one of our monitors in the Far
+East. We had painted the ship to represent the country we were
+fighting in. The ship's side was painted green with palm trees on it,
+and up the funnel we painted a large coco-nut tree in full bloom.</p>
+
+<p>When we went into action, a shell penetrated our funnel, and a splinter
+caught my breech worker in the shoulder. After we had ceased fire we
+carried him below on a stretcher. Looking at the funnel, he said,
+"Blimey, Tom, 'appy 'Ampstead and three shies a penny. All you
+knock down you 'ave."</p>
+
+<p>Later I went to see him in Zanzibar Hospital, and told him he had
+been awarded the D.S.M. He seemed more interested to know if the
+German had got his coco-nut than in his own award.&mdash;<i>T. Spring (late
+Chief Gunner's Mate, R.N.), 26 Maidenstone Hill, Greenwich, S.E.10.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Any more for the 'Skylark'?"</h3>
+
+<p>Passing through the Mediterranean in 1916, the P. &amp; O. liner
+<i>Arabia</i>, returning from the East with a full complement of passengers,
+was torpedoed.</p>
+
+<p>I was in charge of a number of naval ratings returning to England, who,
+of course, helped to get the boats away.</p>
+
+<p>While some of my boys were getting out one of the port boats a woman
+passenger, who had on a Gieves waistcoat, rushed up, holding the air
+tube in front of her, and shouting hysterically, "Oh, blow it up somebody,
+will somebody please blow it up?" A hefty seaman with a couple
+of blasts had the waistcoat inflated, and as he screwed up the cap said,
+"Look 'ere, miss, if yer 'oller like that Fritzy will 'ear yer and he <i>will</i>
+be angry. 'Ere you are, miss, boat all ready; 'op in."</p>
+
+<p>Then, turning round to the waiting passengers, he said, "Come on,
+any more for the 'Skylark'?"&mdash;<i>F. M. Simon (Commander, R.N., retd.),
+99 Lower Northdown Road, Margate.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Still High and Dry</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst patrolling on an exceptionally dark night, the order being
+"No lights showing," we had the misfortune to come into collision
+with a torpedo boat. Owing to the darkness and suddenness of the collision
+we could not discover the extent of the damage, so the officer of
+the watch made a "round," accompanied by the duty petty officer.</p>
+
+<p>Upon reaching a hatchway leading down to the stokers' mess deck,
+he called down: "Is there any water coming in down there?" In
+answer a Cockney stoker, who was one of a number in their hammocks,
+was heard to reply: "I don't fink so; it ain't reached my 'ammock
+yet."&mdash;<i>J. Norton (late Ldg. Stoker, R.N.), 24 Lochaline Street, Hammersmith,
+W.6.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Trunkey Turk's Sarcasm</h3>
+
+<p>We were serving in a destroyer (H.M.S. <i>Stour</i>) in 1915, steaming up
+and down the East Coast. As we passed the different coastguard
+stations the bunting-tosser had to signal each station for news.</p>
+
+<p>One station, in particular, always had more to tell than the others.
+One day this station signalled that a merchant ship had been torpedoed
+and that German submarines were near the coast.</p>
+
+<p>My Cockney chum&mdash;we called him Trunkey Turk because of his big
+nose&mdash;asked the bunting-tosser for his news as he was coming down
+from the bridge, and when he was told, said, "Why didn't you ask them
+if they saw a tin of salmon in their tot of rum to-day?"&mdash;<i>J. Tucknott,
+2 Wisbeach Road, West Croydon.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Running Down the Market</h3>
+
+<p>On board a destroyer in the North Sea in 1916. Look-out reports,
+"Sail ahead, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The captain, adjusting his glasses, was able to make out what at first
+appeared to be a harmless fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>As we drew nearer we could see by her bow wave that she had something
+more than sails to help her along: she had power.</p>
+
+<p>"Action Stations" was sounded, the telegraphs to engine-room
+clanged "Full speed ahead." Our skipper was right. It was a German
+submarine, and as our foremost gun barked out we saw the white sails
+submerge.</p>
+
+<p>Depth charges were dropped at every point where we altered course.
+Imagine our surprise to find the resulting flotsam and jetsam around us
+consisted of trestles, boards, paint-brushes, boxes, and a hat or two, which
+the crafty Germans had used to camouflage their upper structure.</p>
+
+<p>The scene was summed up neatly by "Spikey" Merlin, A.B., a real
+product of Mile End Road: "Lor' luv old Aggie Weston, we've run dahn
+the blinkin' Calerdonian Markit."&mdash;<i>A. G. Reed (late R.N.), 15 William
+Street, Gravesend, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Five to One against the "Tinfish"</h3>
+
+<p>H.M.S. Morea, on convoy duty, was coming up the Channel when the
+silver streak of a "tinfish" was seen approaching the port side.
+The <i>Morea</i> was zig-zagging at the time, so more helm was given her to
+dodge the oncoming torpedo.</p>
+
+<p>The guns' crews were at action stations and were grimly waiting for
+the explosion, when a Cockney seaman gunner sang out, "I'll lay five
+to one it doesn't hit us."</p>
+
+<p>This broke the tension, and, as luck would have it, the torpedo passed
+three yards astern.&mdash;<i>J. Bowman (R.N.), 19 Handel Mansions, Handel
+Street, W.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Queer Porpoise</h3>
+
+<p>In September 1914 I was in H.M.S. <i>Vanguard</i>, patrolling in the North
+Sea. One day four of us were standing on the top of the foremast
+turret, when all of a sudden my pal Nobby shouted to the bridge above
+us, "Periscope on the port bow, sir." At once the captain and signalman
+levelled their telescopes on the object. Then the captain looked over the
+bridge and shouted, "That's a porpoise, my man."</p>
+
+<p>Nobby looked up at the bridge and said, "Blimey, that's the first time
+I've seen a porpoise wiv a glass eye."</p>
+
+<p>He had no sooner said it than the ship slewed to port and a torpedo
+passed close to our stern, the signalman having spotted the wake of a
+torpedo.&mdash;<i>M. Froggat, 136 Laleham Road, Catford, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Hoctopus" with One Arm</h3>
+
+<p>At the time when the German submarine blockade was taking
+heavy toll of all general shipping I was serving aboard a destroyer
+doing escort work in the Channel. One night three ships had been torpedoed
+in quick succession, and we understood they were carrying
+wounded.</p>
+
+<p>We were kept pretty busy dodging from one place to another to pick
+up survivors, and during our "travels" a ship's boat was sighted close
+at hand. In the darkness we could just make out the figure of a soldier
+endeavouring to pull a full-sized oar.</p>
+
+<p>After hailing the boat someone on our destroyer shouted, "Why
+didn't you get some more oars out?" A voice replied: "Don't be
+so funny. D'yer fink I'm a hoctopus? Our engines 'ave all conked
+aht." Which remark raised a laugh from the entire boatload.</p>
+
+<p>On getting closer alongside the tragedy dawned on us. This Cockney
+was the only man (out of about thirty) who was sound enough to
+handle an oar, and he only had one arm and a half.&mdash;<i>H. G. Vollor (late
+Ldg.-seaman, R.N.), 73 Playford-Road, Finsbury Park, N.4.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Interrupted Duel</h3>
+
+<p>The C.O. of my ship had his own way of punishing men who were
+brought before him for fighting.</p>
+
+<p>He would send for the gunner's mate and tell him to have the two
+men up on the upper deck, in view of the ship's company, armed with
+single-sticks. The gunner's mate would get them facing each other,
+give them the first order of "Cutlass practice"&mdash;"Guard!" then
+"Loose play." At that order they would go for each other hammer
+and tongs till one gave in.</p>
+
+<p>Such a dispute had to be settled one day while we were patrolling
+the North Sea. The combatants were just getting warm to it when the
+alarm buzzers went&mdash;enemy in sight.</p>
+
+<p>The gunner's mate, who was refereeing the combat, said: "Pipe
+dahn, you two bounders. Hop it to your action stations, and don't
+forget to come back 'ere when we've seen them off."</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately they were both able to "come back."&mdash;<i>John M. Spring
+(late P.O., R.N.), Bank Chambers, Forest Hill, S.E.23.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Enter Dr. Crippen</h3>
+
+<p>Our ship, the s.s. <i>Wellington</i>, was torpedoed on August 14, 1917,
+and we were a despondent crew in the only two boats. The U-boat
+that had sunk our ship appeared and we were wondering what was going
+to happen to us.</p>
+
+<p>As the U-boat bore down upon us my mate, Nigger Smith (from Shoreditch)
+spotted its commander, who wore large spectacles, on its conning
+tower bridge. "Blimey," said Nigger, "'ere's old Crippen!"&mdash;<i>J. Cane
+(late Gunner, R.M.), 73 Rahere Street, E.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>The All-seeing Eye</h3>
+
+<p>My pal Pincher and I volunteered out of the destroyer <i>Vulture</i> for
+the Q-boats, and got detailed for the same mystery ship. After a
+lot of drills&mdash;"Abandon ship," "Panic crews away," etc.&mdash;we thought we
+were hot stuff.</p>
+
+<p>Knocking about the Channel one fine day the order came, "Panic
+crews to stations." Thinking it was drill, Pincher and I nipped into our
+boat, when the after fall carried away, letting Pincher, myself, and crew
+into the "drink."</p>
+
+<p>Pincher must have caught sight of the periscope of a U-boat, for on
+coming up (although he couldn't swim much) he said when I grabbed
+him: "Lumme, I'm in for fourteen penn'orth!" (14 days 10A, i.e.
+punishment involving extra work). "There's the skipper lookin' at me
+through 'is telescope, and they aven't piped 'ands to bathe yet."&mdash;<i>P. Willoughby
+(late R.N.), 186 Evelyn Street, S.E.8.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Submarine's Gamps</h3>
+
+<p>While patrolling in the Sea of Marmora a British submarine came
+across several umbrellas floating in the sea, presumably from a
+sunken ship. Some of them were acquired by the crew.</p>
+
+<p>On the passage down the Dardanelles the submarine was damaged
+in the conning tower by gun-fire from the Turkish batteries, and water
+began to come in.</p>
+
+<p>At this critical stage I overheard one sailor remark to another, "I say,
+Bill, don't you think it is about time we put those blinkin' umbrellas up?"&mdash;<i>Naval
+officer retired, Hampstead, N.W.3.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Polishing up his German</h3>
+
+<p>About January 15, 1915, we were on patrol duty in the North
+Sea. Near daybreak we came across a number of German
+drifters, with carrier pigeons on board, that were suspected of being
+in touch with submarines.</p>
+
+<p>We were steaming in line abreast,
+and the order was signalled for each
+ship to take one drifter in tow. Our
+Jerry objected to being towed to
+England, and cut our tow-rope, causing
+us a deal of trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Our captain was in a rage and
+shouted down from the bridge to the
+officer of the watch, "Is there anyone
+on board who can speak German?"</p>
+
+<p>The officer of the watch called back,
+"Yes, sir; Knight speaks German"&mdash;meaning
+an officer.</p>
+
+<p>So the captain turned to the bos'n's
+mate and said, "Fetch him." The
+bos'n's mate sends up Able Seaman
+"Bogey" Knight, to whom the
+captain says, over his shoulder: "Tell
+those fellows that I'll sink 'em if they
+tamper with the tow again."</p>
+
+<p>With a look of surprise Bogey
+salutes and runs aft. Putting his
+hands to his mouth. Bogey shouts:</p>
+
+<p>"Hi! there, drifterofsky, do yer
+savvy?" and makes a cut with his
+hand across his arm. "If yer makes de cut agin, I makes de shoot&mdash;(firing
+an imaginary rifle)&mdash;and that's from our skipper!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 305px;">
+<img src="images/i211.jpg" width="305" height="400" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"I makes de shoot."</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Bogey's mates laughed to hear him sprachen the German; but Jerry
+didn't cut the tow again.&mdash;<i>E. C. Gibson, 3 Slatin Road, Stroud, Kent.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<h2><a name="HERE_AND_THERE" id="HERE_AND_THERE">5. HERE AND THERE</a></h2>
+
+
+<h3>Answered</h3>
+
+<p>We were a working party of British prisoners marching through the
+German barracks on our way to the parcel office. Coming towards
+us was a German officer on horseback. When he arrived abreast of us he
+shouted in very good English: "It's a long way to Tipperary, boys,
+isn't it?" This was promptly answered by a Cockney in the crowd:
+"Yus! And it's a ruddy long way to Paris, ain't it?"&mdash;<i>C. A. Cooke,
+O.B.E. (late R.N.D.), 34 Brandram Road, Lee High Road, S.E.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Prisoner has the Last Laugh</h3>
+
+<p>Scene: A small ward in Cologne Fortress, occupied by about twelve
+British prisoners of war.</p>
+
+<p>Time: The German M.O.'s inspection. Action: The new sentry on
+guard in the corridor had orders that all must stand on the M.O.'s entry.
+Seeing the M.O. coming, he called out to us. We jumped to it as best we
+could, except one, a Cockney, who had just arrived minus one leg and
+suffering from other injuries.</p>
+
+<p>Not knowing this, the sentry rushed over to him, yelling that he must
+stand. Seeing that no notice was being taken, he pointed his rifle directly
+at the Cockney. With an effort, since he was very weak and in great
+pain, the Cockney raised himself, caught hold of the rifle and, looking
+straight at it, said: "Dirty barrel&mdash;seven days!"</p>
+
+<p>The M.O., who had just arrived, heard the remark, and, understanding
+it, explained it to the sentry, who joined in our renewed laughter.&mdash;<i>A.
+V. White, 35 Mayville Road, Leytonstone, E.11.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Not Yet Introduced</h3>
+
+<p>We were prisoners of war, all taken before Christmas 1914, and had
+been drafted to Libau, on the Baltic coast.</p>
+
+<p>Towards the end of 1916 a party of us were working on the docks
+when a German naval officer approached and began talking to us.</p>
+
+<p>During the conversation he said he had met several English admirals
+and named some of them.</p>
+
+<p>After a little while a Cockney voice from the rear of our party said,
+"'Ave you ever met Jellicoe, mate?"</p>
+
+<p>The officer replied in the negative, whereupon the Cockney said,
+"Well, take yer bloomin' ships into the North Sea: he's looking for
+yer."&mdash;<i>F. A. F. (late K.O.Y.L.I.), 4 Shaftesbury Road, W.6.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>On the Art of Conversation</h3>
+
+<p>In 1916 the British R.N.A.S. armoured cars, under Commander Oliver
+Locker-Lampson, went from Russia to Rumania to help to stem the
+enemy's advance.</p>
+
+<p>One day, at the frontier town of Reni, I saw a Cockney petty officer
+engaged in earnest conversation with a Russian soldier. Finally, the
+two shook hands solemnly, saluted, and parted.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he speak English?" I asked when the Russian had gone away.
+"Not 'im," said the P.O.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you speak Russian?" I asked, my curiosity aroused.
+"No bloomin' fear!" he said, for all the world as if I had insulted him.</p>
+
+<p>"Then how do you speak to each other?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's easy, sir," he said. "'E comes up to me an' says 'Ooski,
+kooski, wooski, fooski.' 'Same to you,' says I, 'an' many of 'em, ol'
+cock.' 'Bzz-z-z, mzz-z-z, tzz-z-z,' says 'e. 'Thanks,' I says. 'Another
+time, ol' boy. I've just 'ad a couple.' 'Tooralski, looralski, pooralski,'
+'e says. 'Ye don't say!' says I. 'An' very nice, too,' I says, 'funny
+face!'</p>
+
+<p>"'Armony," he explained. "No quarrellin', no argifyin', only
+peace an' 'armony.... Of course, sir, every now an' again I says 'Go
+to 'ell, y' silly blighter!'"</p>
+
+<p>"What for?"</p>
+
+<p>He looked at me coldly. "'Ow do I know but what the blighter's
+usin' insultin' words to me?" he asked.&mdash;<i>R. S. Liddell, Rosebery Avenue,
+E.C.1.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Down Hornsey Way</h3>
+
+<p>Here is a story of the Cockney war spirit at home. We called him
+"London" as he was the only Londoner in the troop. Very pale
+and slight, he gave the impression of being consumptive, yet he was
+quite an athlete, as his sprinting at the brigade sports showed.</p>
+
+<p>We had been on a gunnery course up Hornsey way, and with skeleton
+kit were returning past a large field in which were three gas chambers
+used for gas drill. No one was allowed even to go in the field unless
+equipped with a gas-mask. Suddenly a voice called out, "Look, there's
+a man trying to get in yon chamber."</p>
+
+<p>We shouted as loud as we could, but beyond waving his arms the figure&mdash;which
+looked to be that of a farm labourer&mdash;continued to push at the
+door. Then I saw "London" leap the gate of the field and sprint
+towards the chamber. When he was about 50 yards off the man gave
+a sudden lurch at the door and passed within. We called to "London"
+to come back, but a couple of seconds later he too was lost from view.</p>
+
+<p>One minute&mdash;it seemed like an hour&mdash;two, three, five, ten, and out
+came "London." He dragged with him the bulky labourer. Five
+yards from the chamber he dropped. Disregarding orders, we ran to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+his assistance. Both his eyes were swollen, his lip was cut, and a large
+gash on the cheek-bone told not of gas, but of a fight.</p>
+
+<p>He soon came to&mdash;and pointing to his many cuts said, "Serves me right
+for interfering. Thought the fellah might have been gassed, but there's
+none in there; and hell&mdash;he <i>can</i> hit."&mdash;<i>"Selo-Sam," late Yorks Dragoons.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"... Wouldn't Come Off"</h3>
+
+<p>He hailed from Walworth and was the unfortunate possessor of a
+permanent grin.</p>
+
+<p>The trouble began at the training camp at Seaford when the captain
+was inspecting the company.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you grinning at?" said he. "Beg parding," replied
+Smiler, "but I can't help it, sir. I was born like it."</p>
+
+<p>On the "other side" it was the same. The captain would take
+Smiler's grin as a distinct attempt to "take a rise" out of him. The
+result was that all the worst jobs seemed to fall upon the luckless Londoner.</p>
+
+<p>He was one of the "lucky lads" selected one night for a working
+party. While he was so engaged Jerry sent over a packet which was
+stopped by Smiler, and it was quickly apparent to him and to us that
+this was more than a Blighty one.</p>
+
+<p>As I knelt by his side to comfort him he softly whispered, "Say, mate,
+has Jerry knocked the blinkin' smile off?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," I replied, "it's still there."</p>
+
+<p>Then, with a strange light in his eyes, he said, "Won't the captain be
+darned wild when he hears about it?"&mdash;<i>P. Walters (late Cpl., Royal
+Fusiliers), 20 Church Street, Woolwich, S.E.18.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>When In Greece...?</h3>
+
+<p>On a Greek island overlooking the Dardanelles, where we were
+stationed in 1916, my pal Sid and I were one day walking along a
+road when we saw approaching us a poor-looking knock-kneed donkey.
+On its back, almost burying it, was a huge pile of brushwood, and on top
+of this sat a Greek, whilst in front walked an elderly woman, probably
+his wife, also with a load of twigs on her back.</p>
+
+<p>Sid's face was a study in astonishment and indignation. "Strewth!"
+he muttered to himself. To the Greek he said, "Hi, 'oo the dickens
+d'you fink you are&mdash;the Lord Mayor? Come down orf of there!"</p>
+
+<p>The Greek didn't understand, of course, but Sid had him down. He
+seemed to be trying to remonstrate with Sid, but Sid wasn't "'avin'
+no excuses of that sort," and proceeded to reverse the order of things.
+He wanted "Ma" to "'op up an' 'ave a ride," but the timid woman
+declined. Her burden, however, was transferred to the man's back,
+and after surveying him in an O.C. manner, Sid said: "Nah, pass on,
+an' don't let it 'appen again!"&mdash;<i>H. T. Coad (late R.M.L.I.), 30 Moat
+Place, Stockwell, S.W.9.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Chef Drops a Brick</h3>
+
+<p>At a prisoners of war camp, in Havre, it was my duty to make a
+daily inspection of the compound within the barbed wire, and also
+the officers' quarters.</p>
+
+<p>In charge of the officers' mess was a little Cockney corporal, but
+practically all the cooking and other work was done by German prisoners.</p>
+
+<p>We had just put on trial a new cook, a German, who had told us that
+he had been a chef before the war at one of the big London hotels.</p>
+
+<p>I was making my usual inspection with my S. M., and when we came
+to the officers' mess he bawled out "'Shun! Officer's inspection, any
+complaints?"</p>
+
+<p>The new German cook apparently did not think that this applied to
+him, and, wanting to create a good impression, he strolled across to me
+in the best <i>maître d'hôtel</i> style, and exclaimed, "Goot mornung, sir.
+I tink ve are go'n to haf som rain."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">
+<img src="images/i215.jpg" width="600" height="490" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"'Ow long 'ave you bin a partner in the firm?"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Our little corporal appeared astounded at this lack of respect, and,
+going over to the German, he said in a loud voice: "Put thet knife
+dahn, an' stand to attention. Ve'r gorn to 'ave some rine, indeed!"
+And then, in a louder voice, "<i>Ve</i> are. 'Ow long 'ave <i>you</i> bin a partner
+in the firm?"&mdash;<i>Lieut. Edwin J. Barratt (Ex-"Queens" R.W. Surrey
+Regt.), 8 Elborough Street, Southfields, S.W.18.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>His "Read" Letter Day</h3>
+
+<p>At Sorrel le Grand, which our division had just taken in 1917, we
+took up a good position for our machine gun in a small dug-out.</p>
+
+<p>I was cleaning my revolver on one of the steps, and it accidentally
+went off.</p>
+
+<p>To my surprise and horror the bullet struck one of my comrades (who
+was in a sitting position) in the centre of his steel helmet, creating a
+huge dent.</p>
+
+<p>His remark was: "Lummy, it was a jolly good job I was reading one
+of my girl's letters," and then continued reading.&mdash;<i>Robt. Fisher (late
+Corpl., M.G.C.), 15 Mayesbrook Road, Goodmayes, Essex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Dan, the Dandy Detective</h3>
+
+<p>Jerry's front line trench and ours were not three hundred yards
+apart. Over that sinister strip of ground attack and counter-attack
+had surged and ebbed in a darkness often turned to day by Verey lights
+and star-shells. Brave men on each side had reached their objective,
+but "fell Sergeant Death" often took charge.</p>
+
+<p>In our sector was a 1914 "Contemptible," who, despite mud and
+adverse conditions, made his New Army comrades smile at his barrack-room
+efforts to keep his uniform and equipment just so.</p>
+
+<p>Of Coster ancestry, his name was Dan, and, of course, they called him
+Dandy. He felt distinctly annoyed when on several days an officer
+passed him in the trench with the third button of his tunic missing. "'Is
+batman ought bloomin' well be for it," he soliloquised.</p>
+
+<p>Another night visit to Jerry's trench, and again some poor fellows
+stay there for keeps. In broad noonday Dan is once more aggrieved by
+seeing an officer with a button missing who halts in the trench to ask
+him the whereabouts of B.H.Q. and other details. The tunic looked the
+same, third button absent, <i>but it was not the same officer</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Now Dan's platoon sergeant, also a Londoner, was a man who had
+exchanged his truncheon for a more deadly weapon. Him Dan accosts:
+"I've a conundrum I'd like to arsk you, sergeant, as I don't see Sherlock
+'Olmes nowhere. W'y do orficers lose their third button?"</p>
+
+<p>As became an ex-policeman, the sergeant's suspicions were aroused
+by the coincidence, so much so indeed that he made discreet enquiries
+and discovered that the original owner of a tunic minus a third button
+had been reported missing, believed dead, after a recent trench raid.</p>
+
+<p>The adjutant very soon made it his business to intercept the new
+wearer and civilly invite him to meet the O.C. at B.H.Q. Result: a
+firing party at dawn.</p>
+
+<p>When the news of the spy filtered through, Dan's comment was;
+"Once, when a rookie, I was crimed at the Tower for paradin' with a
+button missin', but I've got even now by havin' an orficer crimed for the
+same thing, even if he <i>was</i> only a blinkin' 'Un!"&mdash;<i>H. G., Plaistow.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Apology</h3>
+
+<p>A heavily-laden and slightly intoxicated Tommy, en route to
+France, entered the Tube at Oxford Circus. As the train started he
+lurched and trod heavily on the toes of a very distinguished "Brass Hat."</p>
+
+<p>Grabbing hold of the strap, he leaned down apologetically and murmured:
+"<i>Sorry, Sergeant!</i>"&mdash;<i>Bert Thomas, Church Farm, Pinner,
+Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 452px;">
+<img src="images/i217.jpg" width="452" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Sorry, Sergeant!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Too Scraggy</h3>
+
+<p>We were prisoners in the infamous Fort Macdonald, near Lille,
+early in May 1917, rammed into the dungeons there for a sort of
+"levelling down process," i.e. starvation, brutal treatment, and general
+misery. After eleven days of it we were on our way, emaciated, silent,
+and miserable, to the working camps close behind the German lines,
+when a Cockney voice piped up:</p>
+
+<p>"Nah then, boys, don't be down 'earted. They kin knock yer abaht
+and cut dahn yer rations, but, blimey, they won't <i>eat</i> us&mdash;not nah!"&mdash;<i>G.
+F. Green, 14 Alma Square, St. John's Wood, N.W.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>So Why Worry?</h3>
+
+<p>The following, written by a London Colonel, was hung up in one of
+our dug-outs:</p>
+
+<p>"When one is a soldier, it is one of two things. One is either in a
+dangerous place, or a cushy one. If in the latter, there is no need to
+worry. If one is in a dangerous place, it is one of two things. One is
+wounded, or one is not. If one is not, there is no need to worry. If the
+former, it is either dangerous or slight. If slight, there is no need to
+worry, but if dangerous, it is one of two alternatives. One dies or
+recovers. If the latter, why worry? If you die you cannot. In these
+circumstances the real Tommy never worries."&mdash;<i>"Alwas," Windmill
+Road, Brentford, Middlesex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Commended by the Kaiser</h3>
+
+<p>As prisoners of war we were unloading railway sleepers from trucks
+when a shell dump blew up. German guards and British prisoners
+scattered in all directions. Some of the Germans were badly wounded
+and, as shells continued to explode, no attempt was made by their comrades
+to succour them.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing the plight of the wounded, a Cockney lad called to some fellow-prisoners
+crouching on the ground, "We can't leave 'em to die like this.
+Who's coming with me?"</p>
+
+<p>He and others raced across a number of rail tracks to the wounded men
+and carried them to cover.</p>
+
+<p>For this act of bravery they were later commended by the then Kaiser.&mdash;<i>C.
+H. Porter (late East Surrey Regiment), 118 Fairlands Avenue,
+Thornton Heath, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Only Fog Signals</h3>
+
+<p>We were resting in Poperinghe in December 1915. One morning
+about 4.30 a.m. we were called out and rushed to entrain for
+Vlamertinghe because Jerry was attacking.</p>
+
+<p>The train was packed with troops, and we were oiling our rifle bolts and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
+checking our ammunition to be ready for action. We had not proceeded
+far when Jerry started trying to hit the train with some heavy
+shells. Several burst very close to the track.</p>
+
+<p>There was one young chap in our compartment huddled in a corner
+looking rather white. "They seem to be trying to hit the train," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Darkie" Webb, of Poplar, always cheerful and matter-of-fact,
+looked across at the speaker and said, "'It the train? No fear, mate,
+them's only signals; there's fog on the line."&mdash;<i>B. Pigott (late Essex
+Regt.), 55 Burdett Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>An American's Hustle</h3>
+
+<p>I was on the extreme right of the British line on March 22, 1918, and
+was severely wounded. I was picked up by the U.S. Red Cross.</p>
+
+<p>There was accommodation for four in the ambulance, and this was
+apportioned between two Frenchmen, a Cockney gunner, and myself.</p>
+
+<p>Anxious to keep our spirits up, the kindly Yankee driver said, "Cheer
+up! I'll soon get you there and see you put right," and as if to prove his
+words he rushed the ambulance off at express speed, with the result
+that in a few moments he knocked down a pedestrian.</p>
+
+<p>A short rest whilst he adjusted matters with the unfortunate individual,
+then off again at breakneck speed.</p>
+
+<p>The Cockney had, up to now, been very quiet, but when our driver
+barely missed a group of Tommies and in avoiding them ran into a wagon,
+the Londoner raised himself on his elbow and in a hoarse voice said,
+"Naw then, Sam, what the 'ell are you playing at? 'Aint yer got
+enough customers?"&mdash;<i>John Thomas Sawyer (8th East Surreys), 88
+Wilcox Road, S.W.8.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Truth about Parachutes</h3>
+
+<p>Most English balloon observers were officers, but occasionally a
+non-commissioned man was taken up in order to give him experience.</p>
+
+<p>On one such occasion the balloon burst in the air. The two occupants
+made a hasty parachute exit from the basket. The courtesy usually
+observed by the senior officer, of allowing the other parachute to get clear
+before he jumps, was not possible in this instance, with the result that
+the officer got entangled with the "passenger's" parachute, which
+consequently did not open.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately the officer's parachute functioned successfully and brought
+both men safely to earth. Upon landing they were rather badly dragged
+along the ground, being finally pulled up in a bush.</p>
+
+<p>The "passenger," a Cockney sergeant, was damaged a good deal, but
+upon being picked up and asked how he had enjoyed his ride he answered,
+"Oh, it was all right, but a parachute is like a wife or a toof-brush&mdash;you
+reely want one to yourself."&mdash;<i>Basil Mitchell (late R.A.F.), 51 Long Lane,
+Finchley, N.3.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>The Linguist</h3>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 548px;">
+<img src="images/i220.jpg" width="548" height="600" alt="" />
+<div class="caption">"Moi&mdash;vous&mdash;'im&mdash;avec Allah!"</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>An Indian mule driver had picked up a German hand grenade of the
+"potato masher" type, which he evidently regarded as a heaven-sent
+implement for driving in a peg. Two Tommies tried to dissuade
+him, but, though he desisted, he was obviously puzzled. So one of the
+Cockneys tried to explain. "Vous compree Allah?" he asked, and
+raised his hand above his head. Satisfied that the increasing look of
+bewilderment was really one of complete enlightenment, he proceeded to
+go through a pantomime of striking with the "potato masher" and,
+solemnly pointing in turn to himself, to the Indian, and to his companion,
+said: "Moi, vous, and 'im&mdash;avec Allah."&mdash;<i>J. F. Seignoir (Lt., R.A.),
+13 Moray Place, Cheshunt, Herts.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Billiards isn't all Cannons</h3>
+
+<p>My regiment was in action on the Marne on September 20, 1914.
+We had been hammering, and had been hammered at, for some hours,
+until there were very few of us left, and those few, being almost all of them
+wounded or short of ammunition, were eventually captured and taken
+behind the German lines.</p>
+
+<p>As we passed their trenches we saw a great number of German wounded
+lying about.</p>
+
+<p>One of our lads, a reservist, who was a billiards marker in Stepney,
+although badly wounded, could not resist a gibe at a German officer.</p>
+
+<p>"Strewth, Old Sausage and Mash," he cried, "your blokes may be good
+at the cannon game, but we can beat yer at pottin' the blinkin' red.
+Look at yer perishin' number board" (meaning the German killed and
+wounded). And with a sniff of contempt he struggled after his mates
+into captivity.&mdash;<i>T. C. Rainbird (late Pte., 1st West Yorks), 41 Cavalry
+Crescent, Eastbourne, Sussex.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Run?&mdash;Not Likely</h3>
+
+<p>It was the beginning of the spring offensive, 1918, and the 2nd Army
+Gun School, Wisques, was empty, as the men had gone into the line.
+A handful of Q.M.A.A.C. cooks were standing by.</p>
+
+<p>I sent two little Cockney girls over to the instructors' château to keep
+the fires up in case the men returned suddenly. I went to the camp gate
+as an enemy bombing plane passed over. The girls had started back,
+and were half-way across the field. The plane flew so low that the men
+leaned over the side and jeered at us.</p>
+
+<p>I held my breath as it passed the girls&mdash;would they shoot them in
+passing? The girls did not hasten, but presently reached me with faces
+as white as paper.</p>
+
+<p>"Why didn't you run?" I said.</p>
+
+<p>"Lor', mum," came the reply, "yer didn't think as 'ow we was a-goin'
+ter run with them there Germans up there, did ye? Not much!"&mdash;<i>C. N.
+(late U.A., Q.M.A.A.C.), Heathcroft, Hampstead Way, N.W.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>At "The Bow Bells" Concert</h3>
+
+<p>Whilst having a short spell away from the front line I attended
+a performance given in Arras by the divisional concert party,
+"The Bow Bells."</p>
+
+<p>During one of the items a long-range shell struck the building, fortunately
+without causing any casualties among the audience.</p>
+
+<p>Although front-line troops are not given to "windiness," the unexpectedness
+of this unwelcome arrival brought about a few moments'
+intense silence, which was broken by a Cockney who remarked, "Jerry
+<i>would</i> come in wivvaht payin'."&mdash;<i>L. S. Smith (late 1-7 Middlesex Regt.,
+56th Division, B.E.F.), 171 Langham Road, N.15.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>A Bomb and a Pillow</h3>
+
+<p>During part of the war my work included salving and destroying
+"dud" shells and bombs in the back areas. On one occasion in an
+air-raid a "dud" bomb glanced through the side of a hut occupied by
+some fitters belonging to an M.T. section of R.E.'s.</p>
+
+<p>This particular bomb (weighing about 100 lb.), on its passage through
+the hut had torn the corner of a pillow on which the owner's head was
+lying and carried feathers for several feet into the ground.</p>
+
+<p>We dug about ten feet down and then, as the hole filled with water
+as fast as we could pump it out, we gave it up, the tail, which had become
+detached a few feet down, being the only reward of our efforts.</p>
+
+<p>While we were in the midst of our operations the owner of the pillow&mdash;very
+"bucked" at being unhurt after such a narrow shave&mdash;came to
+look on, and with a glance down the hole and a grin at me said, "Well,
+sir, if I'd known it 'ud give yer so much trouble, I'd 'a caught it!"&mdash;<i>Arthur
+G. Grutchfield (late Major (D.A.D.O.S. Ammn.) R.A.O.C.),
+Hill Rise, Sanderstead Road, Sanderstead, Surrey.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Athletics in the Khyber Pass</h3>
+
+<p>During the Afghan operations I was resting my company on the
+side of the road at the Afghan entrance to the Khyber Pass. It was
+mid-day and the heat was terrific, when along that heat-stricken road came
+a British battalion. They had marched 15 miles that morning from Ali
+Musfd. Their destination was Landi Kana, five miles below us on the
+plain.</p>
+
+<p>As they came round the bend a cheer went up, for they spotted specks
+of white canvas in the distance. Most of the battalion seemed to be on
+the verge of collapse from the heat, but one Tommy, a Cockney, broke
+from the ranks and had a look at the camp in the distance, and exclaimed:
+"Coo! If I 'ad me running pumps I could sprint it!"&mdash;<i>Capt. A. G. A.
+Barton, M.C., Indian Army, "The Beeches," The Beeches Road, Perry
+Bar, Birmingham.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>Jack and his Jack Johnsons</h3>
+
+<p>In September 1915 our battery near Ypres was crumped at intervals
+of twenty minutes by 18-in. shells. The craters they made could
+easily contain a lorry or two.</p>
+
+<p>One hit by the fifth shell destroyed our château completely. Leaving
+our dug-outs I found a gunner smoking fags under the fish-net camouflage
+at Number One gun.</p>
+
+<p>Asked sternly why he had not gone to ground, he replied, "Well,
+yer see, sir, I'm really a sailor and when the earth rocks with Jack
+Johnsons I feels at 'ome like. Besides, the nets keeps off the flies."&mdash;<i>G. C. D.
+(ex-Gunner Subaltern, 14th Div.), Sister Agnes Officers' Hospital,
+Grosvenor Crescent, S.W.1.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h3>Even Davy Jones Protested</h3>
+
+<p>Towards the final stages of the Palestine front operations, when
+Johnny Turk was retreating very rapidly, I was detailed with others
+to clear and destroy enemy ammunition that had been left behind.</p>
+
+<p>When near the Sea of Galilee there was discovered a dump of aerial
+bombs, each approximately 25 lb. in weight. Thinking it quicker and
+attended by less risk than the usual detonation, I decided to drop them
+in the sea.</p>
+
+<p>About ten bombs were placed aboard a small boat, and I with three
+others pushed out about two hundred yards. Two of the bombs were
+dropped overboard without ever a thought of danger when suddenly
+there was a heavy, dull explosion beneath us, and boat, cargo, and crew
+were thrown into the air.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody was hurt. All clung to the remains of the boat, and we were
+brought back to our senses by one of our Cockney companions, who
+remarked: "Even Davy Jones won't have the ruddy fings."&mdash;<i>A. W.
+Owen (late Corporal, Desert Corps), 9 Keith Road, Walthamstow, E.17.</i></p>
+
+
+<h3>"Parti? Don't blame 'im!"</h3>
+
+<p>One summer afternoon in 1915 I was asked to deliver an official letter
+to the Mayor of Poperinghe. The old town was not then so well
+known as Toc H activities have since made it. At the time it was being
+heavily strafed by long-range guns. Many of the inhabitants had fled.</p>
+
+<p>I rode over with a pal. The door of the <i>mairie</i> was open, but the building
+appeared as deserted as the great square outside.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a Belgian gendarme walked in and looked at us inquiringly.
+I showed him the buff envelope inscribed "<i>Monsieur le Maire</i>," whereupon
+he smiled and said, "<i>Parti</i>."</p>
+
+<p>At that moment there was a deafening crash outside and the air was
+filled with flying debris and acrid smoke. In a feeling voice my chum
+quietly remarked, "And I don't blinkin' well blame 'im, either!"&mdash;<i>F.
+Street, 13 Greenfield Road, Eastbourne.</i></p>
+
+
+<div class="center"><br /><br />
+<i>Printed in Great Britain by Hasell, Watson &amp; Viney, Ltd., London and Aylesbury.<br /><br />
+Published by Associated Newspapers, Ltd., London, E.C.4.</i>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap" />
+
+<div class="transnote">
+<h2>Transcriber's Notes</h2>
+
+<p>Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.</p>
+
+<p>Hyphenation was made consistent.</p>
+
+<p>P. 49: "Dorian Lake" changed to "Doiran Lake".</p>
+
+<p>P. 103: "Hindenbrug" changed to "Hindenburg".</p>
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories, by Various
+
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: November 23, 2013 [EBook #44263]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COCKNEY WAR STORIES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Brian Coe, Moti Ben-Ari and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+book was created from images of public domain material
+made available by the University of Toronto Libraries
+(http://link.library.utoronto.ca/booksonline/).)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+    500 OF THE BEST
+    COCKNEY
+    WAR
+    STORIES
+
+    REPRINTED FROM THE LONDON
+    Evening News
+
+    AND ILLUSTRATED BY
+    BERT THOMAS
+
+    WITH AN OPENING YARN BY
+    GENERAL
+    SIR IAN HAMILTON
+    G.C.B., G.C.M.G., D.S.O., etc.
+    Vice-President of the British Legion
+    President of the Metropolitan Area of the
+    British Legion
+
+    ASSOCIATED NEWSPAPERS LTD.
+    LONDON, E.C.4
+
+
+
+
+EDITOR'S FOREWORD
+
+
+In the remembering, and in the retelling, of those war days when
+laughter sometimes saved men's reason, Cockneys the world over have
+left to posterity a record of noble and imperishable achievement.
+
+From the countless tales collected by the London _Evening News_ these
+five hundred, many of them illustrated by the great war-time artist,
+Bert Thomas, have been chosen as a fitting climax and perpetuation.
+
+Sir Ian Hamilton's story of another war shows that, however much
+methods of fighting may vary from generation to generation, there is no
+break in continuity of a great tradition, that the spirits of laughter
+and high adventure are immortal in the make-up of the British soldier.
+
+Sir Ian's story is doubly fitting. As President of the Metropolitan
+Area of the British Legion he is intimately concerned with the
+after-war welfare of just that Tommy Atkins who is immortalised in
+these pages. In the second place, all profits from the sale of this
+book will be devoted to the cause which the Higher Command in every
+branch of the Services is fostering--the British Legion.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+    SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY
+    1. ACTION
+    2. LULL
+    3. HOSPITAL
+    4. HIGH SEAS
+    5. HERE AND THERE #/
+
+
+
+
+SIR IAN HAMILTON'S STORY
+
+
+The Great War was a matrix wherein many anecdotes have sprouted.
+They are short-lived plants--fragile as mushrooms--none too easy to
+extricate either, embedded as they are in the mass.
+
+To dig out the character of a General even from the plans of his
+General Staff is difficult; how much more difficult to dig out the
+adventures of Number 1000 Private Thomas Atkins from those of the other
+999 who went "like one man" with him over the top? In the side-shows
+there was more scope for the individual and in the Victorian wars
+much more scope. To show the sort of thing I mean I am going to put
+down here for the first time an old story, almost forgotten now, in
+the hopes that it may interest by its contrast to barrages and barbed
+wire. Although only an old-fashioned affair of half a dozen bullets and
+three or four dead men it was a great event to me as it led to my first
+meeting with the great little Bobs of Kandahar.
+
+On the morning of September 11, 1879, I lay shivering with fever and
+ague at Alikhel in Afghanistan. So sick did I seem that it was decided
+I should be carried a day's march back to G.H.Q. on the Peiwar Kotal to
+see if the air of that high mountain pass would help me to pull myself
+round. Polly Forbes, a boy subaltern not very long from Eton, was sent
+off to play the part of nurse.
+
+We reached the Peiwar Kotal without any adventure, and were allotted
+a tent in the G.H.Q. camp pitched where the road between the Kurram
+Valley and Kabul ran over the high Kotal or pass. Next morning,
+although still rather weak in the knees, I felt game for a ride to the
+battlefield. So we rode along the high ridge through the forest of
+giant deodars looking for mementoes of the battle. The fact was that we
+were, although we knew it not, in a very dangerous No Man's Land.
+
+We had reached a point about two miles from camp when we were startled
+by half a dozen shots fired in quick succession and still more startled
+to see some British soldiers rushing down towards us from the top of a
+steep-sided knoll which crowned the ridge to our immediate front.
+
+Close past us rushed those fugitives and on, down the hillside, where
+at last, some hundred yards below us, they pulled up in answer to our
+shouts. But no amount of shouts or orders would bring them up to us,
+so we had to get off our ponies and go down to them. There were seven
+of them--a Corporal and three men belonging to one of the new short
+service battalions and three signallers--very shaky the whole lot. Only
+one was armed with his rifle; he had been on sentry-go at the moment
+the signalling picquet had been rushed--so they said--by a large body
+of Afghans.
+
+What was to be done? I realised that I was the senior. Turning to the
+Corporal I asked him if he could ride. "Yes, sir," he replied rather
+eagerly. "Well, then," I commanded, "you get on to that little white
+mare up there and ride like hell to G.H.Q. for help. You others go up
+with him and await orders." Off they went, scrambling up the hill,
+Forbes and I following rather slowly because of my weakness. When we
+got up to the path, ponies, syces, all had disappeared except that one
+soldier who had stuck to his rifle.
+
+All was as still as death in the forest where we three now stood alone.
+"Where are the others?" I asked the man. "I think they must be killed."
+"Do you think they are up there?" "Yessir!" So I turned to Forbes and
+said, "If there are wounded or dead up there we must go and see what we
+can do."
+
+Where we stood we were a bit far away from the top of the wooded hill
+for a jezail shot to carry and once we began to climb the slope we
+found ourselves in dead ground. Nearing the top, my heart jumped into
+my mouth as I all but put my foot on a man's face. Though I dared not
+take my eyes off the brushwood on the top of the hill, out of the
+corner of my eye I was aware he was a lascar and that he must be dead,
+for his head had nearly been severed from his body.
+
+At that same moment we heard a feeble cry in Hindustani, "_Shabash,
+Sahib log, chello!_" "Bravo, Gentlemen, come along!" This came from
+another lascar shot through the body--a plucky fellow. "_Dushman kahan
+hain?_"--"Where are the enemy?" I whispered. "When the sahibs shouted
+from below they ran away," he said, and at that, side by side with the
+revolvers raised to fire, Forbes and I stepped out on to the cleared
+and levelled summit of the hill, a space about fifteen feet by twenty.
+
+All was quiet and seemed entirely normal. There stood the helio and
+there lay the flags. Most astonishing of all, there, against a pile
+of logs, rested the priceless rifles of the picquet guard with their
+accoutrements and ammunition pouches lying on the ground beside them.
+Making a sign to Forbes we laid down our revolvers ready to hand, took,
+each of us, a rifle, loaded it, fixed the bayonet and stood at the
+ready facing the edge of the forest about thirty yards away.
+
+Even in these days when my memory is busy chucking its seventy years or
+so of accumulations overboard, the memory of that tense watch into the
+forest remains as fresh as ever. For the best part of half an hour it
+must have lasted. At last we heard them--not the Afghans but our own
+chaps, coming along the ridge and now they were making their way in
+open order up the hill--a company of British Infantry together with a
+few Pathan auxiliaries, the whole under command of Captain Stratton of
+the 22nd Foot, head Signaller to the Force.
+
+In few words my story was told and at once bold Stratton determined
+to pursue down the far side of the hill. Stratton had told me to go
+back to camp, but I did not consider that an order and, keeping on the
+extreme left of the line so that he should not see me, I pushed along.
+
+I noticed that the young soldier of the picquet who had stuck to his
+rifle was still keeping by me as the long line advanced down the slope,
+which gradually bifurcated into two distinct spurs. The further we went
+the wider apart drew the spurs and the deeper became the intervening
+nullah. Captain Stratton, Forbes, and the Regimental Company commander
+were all on the other or eastern spur and the men kept closing in
+towards them, until at last everyone, bar myself and my one follower,
+had cleared off the western spur. I did not want to cross the
+nullah, feeling too weak and tired to force my way through the thick
+undergrowth. Soon we could no longer hear or see the others.
+
+Suddenly I heard Click! "Take cover!" I shouted and flung myself behind
+a big stone. Sure enough, the moment often imagined had come! Not more
+than twenty paces down the slope an old, white-bearded, wicked-looking
+Enemy was aiming at me with his long jezail from behind a fallen log.
+Click! again. Another misfire.
+
+Now I was musketry instructor of my regiment, which had been the best
+shooting regiment in India the previous year. My revolver was a rotten
+little weapon, but I knew its tricks. As the Afghan fumbled with his
+lock I took aim and began to squeeze the trigger. Another instant and
+he would have been dead when bang! went a rifle behind me; my helmet
+tilted over my eyes, my shot went where we found it next day, about six
+feet up into a tree. The young soldier had opened rapid fire just over
+my head.
+
+At the same time, I saw another Afghan come crouching through the
+brushwood below me towards a point where he would be able to enfilade
+my stone. I shouted to my comrade, "I'm coming back to you," and turned
+to make for his tree. Luck was with me. At that very moment bang went
+the jezail and when we dug out the bullet next morning and marked the
+line of fire, it became evident that had I not so turned I would never
+have sat spinning this yarn.
+
+That shot was a parting salute. There were shouts from the right of the
+line, and as I was making for my tree the Afghans made off in the other
+direction. I shouted to Stratton and his men to press down to the foot
+of the hill, working round to the north so as to cut off the raiders.
+Then, utterly exhausted, I began my crawl back to the camp.
+
+Soon after I had got in I was summoned into the presence of the
+redoubtable Bobs. Although I had marched past him at Kohat this was
+my first face-to-face meeting with one who was to play the part
+of Providence to my career. He made me sit in a chair and at once
+performed the almost incredible feat of putting me entirely at my ease.
+This he did by pouring a golden liquid called sherry into a very large
+wine-glass. Hardly had I swallowed this elixir when I told him all
+about everything, which was exactly what he wanted.
+
+A week later the Commander of the Cavalry Brigade, Redan Massy, applied
+to Headquarters for an Aide-de-Camp. Sir Fred Roberts advised him to
+take me. That billet led to unimaginable bliss. Surrounding villages
+by moonlight, charging across the Logar Valley, despising all foot
+sloggers--every sort of joy I had longed for. The men of the picquet
+who had run away were tried by Court Martial and got long sentences,
+alas--poor chaps! The old Mullah was sent to his long account by
+Stratton.
+
+But that is the point of most war stories; when anyone gets a lift up
+it is by the misfortune or death of someone else.
+
+    IAN HAMILTON.
+
+
+
+
+COCKNEY WAR STORIES
+
+
+1. ACTION
+
+
+The Outside Fare
+
+During the third battle of Ypres a German field gun was trying to hit
+one of our tanks, the fire being directed no doubt by an observation
+balloon.
+
+On the top of the tank was a Cockney infantryman getting a free ride
+and seemingly quite unconcerned at Jerry's attempts to score a direct
+hit on the tank.
+
+[Illustration: "Hi, conductor! Any room inside?--it's rainin'!"]
+
+As the tank was passing our guns a shrapnel shell burst just behind it
+and above it.
+
+We expected to see the Cockney passenger roll off dead. All he did,
+however, was to put his hand to his mouth and shout to those inside the
+tank: "Hi, conductor! Any room inside?--it's rainin'!"--_A. H. Boughton
+(ex "B" Battery, H.A.C.), 53 Dafforne Road, S.W.17._
+
+
+"Barbed Wire's Dangerous!"
+
+A wiring party in the Loos salient--twelve men just out from home.
+Jerry's Verey lights were numerous, machine-guns were unpleasantly
+busy, and there were all the dangers and alarms incidental to a sticky
+part of the line. The wiring party, carrying stakes and wire, made its
+way warily, and every man breathed apprehensively. Suddenly one London
+lad tripped over a piece of old barbed wire and almost fell his length.
+
+"Lumme," he exclaimed, "that ain't 'arf dangerous!"--_T. C. Farmer,
+M.C., of Euston Square, London (late of "The Buffs")._
+
+
+Tale of an Egg
+
+I was attached as a signaller to a platoon on duty in an advanced post
+on the Ypres-Menin Road. We had two pigeons as an emergency means of
+communication should our wire connection fail.
+
+One afternoon Fritz put on a strafe which blew in the end of the
+culvert in which we were stationed. We rescued the pigeon basket from
+the debris and discovered that an egg had appeared.
+
+That evening, when the time came to send in the usual evening
+"situation report," I was given the following message to transmit:
+
+"Pigeon laid one egg; otherwise situation normal."--_D. Webster, 85
+Highfield Avenue, N.W.11._
+
+
+"No Earfkwikes"
+
+On a bitterly cold, wet afternoon in February 1918 four privates and
+a corporal were trying to take what shelter they could. One little
+Cockney who had served in the Far East with the 10th Middlesex was
+complaining about everything in general, but especially about the
+idiocy of waging war in winter.
+
+"Wot yer grumblin' at?" broke in the corporal, "you with yer fawncy
+tyles of Inja? At any rate, there ain't no blinking moskeeters 'ere nor
+'orrible malyria."
+
+There was a break in the pleasantries as a big one came over. In the
+subsequent explosion the little Cockney was fatally wounded.
+
+"Corpril," the lad gasped, as he lay under that wintry sky, "you fergot
+to menshun there ain't no bloomin' sun-stroke, _nor no earfkwikes,
+neither_."
+
+And he smiled--a delightful, whimsical smile--though the corporal's
+"Sorry, son" was too late.--_V. Meik, 107 King Henry's Road, N.W.3._
+
+
+A "Bow Bells" Heroine
+
+For seven hours, with little intermission, the German airmen bombed a
+camp not a hundred miles from Etaples. Of the handful of Q.M.A.A.C.s
+stationed there, one was an eighteen-year-old middle-class girl,
+high-strung, sensitive, not long finished with her convent school.
+Another was Kitty, a Cockney girl of twenty, by occupation a
+machine-hand, by vocation (missed) a comedienne, and, by heaven, a
+heroine.
+
+The high courage of the younger girl was cracking under the strain
+of that ordeal by bombs. Kitty saw how it was with her, and for five
+long hours she gave a recital of song, dialogue, and dance--most of it
+improvised--while the bombs fell and the anti-aircraft guns screamed.
+In all probability she saved the younger girl's reason.
+
+When the last raider had dropped the last bomb, Kitty sank down, all
+but exhausted, and for long cried and laughed hysterically. Hers was
+not the least heroic part played upon that night.--_H. N., London, E._
+
+
+Samson, but Shorn
+
+During the German attack near Zillebeke in June 1916 a diminutive
+Cockney, named Samson, oddly enough, received a scalp wound from a
+shell splinter which furrowed a neat path through his hair.
+
+The fighting was rather hot at the time, and this great-hearted little
+Londoner carried on with the good work.
+
+Some hours later came the order to fall back, and as the Cockney was
+making his way down the remains of a trench, dazed and staggering, a
+harassed sergeant, himself nearly "all in," ordered him to bear off a
+couple of rifles and a box of ammunition.
+
+This was the last straw. "Strike, sergeant," he said, weakly, "I
+can't 'elp me name being Samson, but I've just 'ad me perishin' 'air
+cut!"--"_Townie," R.A.F._
+
+
+"What's Bred in the Bone----!"
+
+When we were at Railway Wood, Ypres Salient, in 1916, "Muddy Lane,"
+our only communication trench from the front line to the support line,
+had been reduced to shapelessness by innumerable "heavies." Progress
+in either direction entailed exposure to snipers in at least twelve
+different places, and runners and messengers were, as our sergeant put
+it, "tickled all the way."
+
+In the support line one afternoon, hearing the familiar "Crack! Crack!
+Crack!" I went to Muddy Lane junction to await the advertised visitor.
+He arrived--a wiry little Cockney Tommy, with his tin hat dented in two
+places and blood trickling from a bullet graze on the cheek.
+
+In appreciation of the risk he had run I remarked, "Jerry seems to be
+watching that bit!"
+
+"Watching!" he replied. "'Struth! I felt like I was walking darn
+Sarthend Pier naked!"--_Vernon Sylvaine, late Somerset L.I., Grand
+Theatre, Croydon._
+
+
+A Very Human Concertina
+
+In March 1918, when Jerry was making his last great attack, I was in
+the neighbourhood of Petit Barisis when three enemy bombing planes
+appeared overhead and gave us their load. After all was clear I
+overheard this dialogue between two diminutive privates of the 7th
+Battalion, the London Regiment ("Shiny Seventh"), who were on guard
+duty at the Q.M. Stores:
+
+"You all right, Bill?"
+
+"Yes, George!"
+
+"Where'd you get to, Bill, when he dropped his eggs?"
+
+"Made a blooming concertina of meself and got underneaf me blinkin' tin
+'at!"--_F. A. Newman, 8 Levett Gardens, Ilford, Ex-Q.M.S., 8th London
+(Post Office Rifles)._
+
+
+A One-Man Army
+
+The 47th London Division were holding the line in the Bluff sector,
+near Ypres, early in 1917, and the 20th London Battalion were being
+relieved on a very wet evening, as I was going up to the front line
+with a working party.
+
+Near Hell Fire Corner shells were coming over at about three-minute
+intervals. One of the 20th London Lewis gunners was passing in full
+fighting order, with fur coat, gum boots, etc., carrying his Lewis gun,
+several drums of ammunition, and the inevitable rum jar.
+
+One of my working party, a typical Cockney, surveyed him and said:
+
+"Look! Blimey, he only wants a field gun under each arm and he'd be a
+bally division."--_Lieut.-Col. J. H. Langton, D.S.O._
+
+
+"Nah, Mate! Soufend!"
+
+During the heavy rains in the summer of 1917 our headquarters dug-out
+got flooded. So a fatigue party was detailed to bale it out.
+
+"Long Bert" Smith was one of our baling squad. Because of his abnormal
+reach, he was stationed at the "crab-crawl," his job being to throw the
+water outside as we handed the buckets up to him.
+
+It was a dangerous post. Jerry was pasting the whole area unmercifully
+and shell splinters pounded on the dug-out roof every few seconds.
+
+Twenty minutes after we had started work Bert got badly hit, and it was
+some time before the stretcher-bearers could venture out to him. When
+they did so he seemed to be unconscious.
+
+"Poor blighter!" said one of the bearers. "Looks to be going West."
+
+Bert, game to the last, opened his eyes and, seeing the canvas bucket
+still convulsively clutched in his right fist, "Nah, mate!" he
+grunted--"Soufend!"
+
+But the stretcher-bearer was right.--_C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street,
+W.C.I._
+
+
+"I Got 'Ole Nelson Beat!"
+
+Several stretcher cases in the field dressing station at the foot of
+"Chocolate Hill," Gallipoli, awaited removal by ambulance, including a
+Cockney trooper in the dismounted Yeomanry.
+
+He had a bandage round his head, only one eye was visible, and his left
+arm was bound to his breast with a sandbag.
+
+His rapid-fire of Cockney witticisms had helped to keep our spirits up
+while waiting--he had a comment for everything. Suddenly a "strafe"
+started, and a shrapnel shell shot its load among us.
+
+Confusion, shouts, and moans--then a half-hysterical, half-triumphant
+shout from the Cockney: "Lumme, one in the blinkin' leg this time. I
+got 'ole Nelson beat at last!"--_J. Coomer (late R.E.), 31 Hawthorn
+Avenue, Thornton Heath._
+
+
+Two Kinds of Fatalist
+
+A German sniper was busy potting at our men in a front-line trench at
+Cambrai in March 1918. A Cockney "old sweat," observing a youngster
+gazing over the parapet, asked him if he were a fatalist.
+
+The youngster replied "Yes."
+
+"So am I," said the Cockney, "but I believes in duckin'."--"_Brownie,"
+Kensal Rise, N.W.10._
+
+
+Double up, Beauty Chorus!
+
+One summer afternoon in '15 some lads of the Rifle Brigade were
+bathing in the lake in the grounds of the chateau at Elverdinghe, a
+mile or so behind the line at Ypres, when German shells began to land
+uncomfortably near. The swimmers immediately made for the land, and,
+drawing only boots on their feet, dashed for the cellar in the chateau.
+
+As they hurried into the shelter a Cockney sergeant bellowed, "Nah
+then, booty chorus: double up an' change for the next act!"--_G E.
+Roberts, M.C. (late Genl. List, att'd 21st Divn. Signal Co.), 28
+Sunbury Gardens, Mill Hill, N.W.7._
+
+
+The Theatre of War
+
+During the battle of Arras, Easter 1917, we were lying out in front
+of our wire in extended order waiting for our show to begin. Both our
+artillery and that of Fritz were bombarding as hard as they could. It
+was pouring with rain, and everybody was caked in mud.
+
+Our platoon officer, finding he had a good supply of chocolate, and
+realising that rations might not be forthcoming for some time, crept
+along the line and gave us each a piece.
+
+As he handed a packet to one cheerful Cockney he was asked, "Wot abaht
+a programme, sir?"--_W. B. Finch (late London Regiment), 155 High Road,
+Felixstowe._
+
+
+"It's the Skivvy's 'Arf Day Orf"
+
+Easter Monday, April 9, 1917. Night. Inches of snow and a weird silence
+everywhere after the turmoil of the day. Our battalion is held up in
+front of Monchy-le-Preux during the battle of Arras. I am sent out with
+a patrol to reconnoitre one of our tanks that is crippled and astride
+the German wire 300 yards out.
+
+[Illustration: "I'll have to let yer in meself ... it's the skivvy's
+'arf day orf!"]
+
+It is ticklish work, because the crew may be dead or wounded and Fritz
+in occupation. Very warily we creep around the battered monster and
+presently I tap gingerly on one of the doors. No response. We crawl to
+the other side and repeat the tapping process. At last, through the
+eerie silence, comes a low, hoarse challenge.
+
+"Oo are yer?"
+
+"Fusiliers!" I reply, as I look up and see a tousled head sticking
+through a hole in the roof.
+
+"Ho!" exclaims the voice above, "I'll 'ave ter come dahn and let yer in
+meself, it's the skivvy's 'arf day orf!"
+
+The speaker proved to have a shattered arm--among other things--and was
+the sole survivor of the crew.--_D. K., Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Cricket on the Somme
+
+"Spider" Webb was a Cockney--from Stepney, I believe--who was with us
+on the Somme in 1916. He was a splendid cricketer.
+
+We had had a very stiff time for six or seven hours and were resting
+during a lull in the firing. Then suddenly Jerry sent over five shells.
+After a pause another shell came over and burst near to "Spider" and
+his two pals.
+
+When the smoke cleared I went across to see what had happened.
+"Spider's" two pals were beyond help. The Cockney was propping himself
+up with his elbows surveying the scene.
+
+"What's happened, Webb?" I said. "Blimey! What's happened?" was the
+reply. "One over--two bowled" (and, looking down at his leg)--"and I'm
+stumped." Then he fainted.--_George Franks, M.C. (late Lieut., Royal
+Artillery), Ilford, Essex._
+
+
+M'Lord, of Hoxton
+
+We called him "M'lord." He came from Hoxton--"That's where they
+make 'em," he used to say. He was a great asset to us, owing to the
+wonderful way in which he went out and "won" things.
+
+One night, near Amiens, in 1916, "M'lord" said, "I'm going aht to see
+wot some uvver mob has got too much of." One or two of us offered to
+accompany him, but he refused, saying, "You bloomin' elephants 'ud be
+bahnd to give the gime away."
+
+About three hours later, when we were beginning to get anxious, we
+saw him staggering in with a badly wounded German, who was smoking a
+cigarette.
+
+Seeing us, and very much afraid of being thought soft-hearted, "M'lord"
+plumped old Fritz down on the fire-step and said very fiercely, "Don't
+you dare lean on me wif impunity, or wif a fag in your mouf."
+
+Jerry told us later that he had lain badly wounded in a deserted
+farmhouse for over two days, and "M'lord" had almost carried him for
+over a mile.
+
+"M'lord" was killed later on in the war. Our battalion was the 7th
+Batt. Royal Fusiliers (London Regt.)--_W. A., Windsor._
+
+
+The Tall Man's War
+
+In our platoon was a very tall chap who was always causing us great
+amusement because of his height. Naturally he showed his head above the
+parapet more often than the rest of us, and whenever he did so _ping_
+would come a bullet from a sniper and down our tall chum would drop in
+an indescribably funny acrobatic fashion.
+
+The climax came at Delville Wood in August 1916, when, taking over the
+line, we found the trench knocked about in a way that made it most
+uncomfortable for all of us. Here our tall friend had to resort to his
+acrobatics more than ever: at times he would crawl on all fours to
+"dodge 'em." One shot, however, caused him to dive down more quickly
+than usual--right into a sump hole in the trench.
+
+Recovering himself, he turned to us and, with an expression of
+unutterable disgust, exclaimed, "You blokes can laugh; anybody 'ud fink
+I was the only blighter in this war."--_C. Bragg (late Rifle Brigade,
+14th Division), 61 Hinton Road, Herne Hill, S.E.24._
+
+
+Germany Didn't Know This
+
+One night in June 1916, on the Somme, we were ordered to leave our line
+and go over and dig an advance trench. We returned to our trench before
+dawn, and shortly afterwards my chum, "Pussy" Harris, said to me, "I
+have left my rifle in No Man's Land."
+
+"Never mind," I said, "there are plenty more. Don't go over there: the
+snipers are sure to get you."
+
+But my advice was all in vain; he insisted on going. When I asked him
+why he wanted that particular rifle he said, "Well, the barrel is bent,
+_and it can shoot round corners_."
+
+He went over....
+
+That night I saw the regimental carpenter going along the trench with
+a roughly-made wooden cross inscribed "R.I.P. Pte. Harris."--_W. Ford,
+613 Becontree Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+Better than the Crystal Palace
+
+One night, while going round the line at Loos, I was accompanied by
+Sergeant Winslow, who was a London coster before the war.
+
+We were examining the field of fire of a Lewis gun, when the Germans
+opened up properly on our sector. Clouds of smoke rose from the
+surrounding trenches, crash after crash echoed around the old Loos
+crassier, and night was turned into day by Verey lights sent up by both
+sides.
+
+Suddenly a lad of 18, just out, turned to Sergeant Winslow, and in a
+quivering voice said: "My God, sergeant, this is awful!"
+
+Sergeant Winslow replied: "Now, look 'ere, me lad, you'd have paid 'alf
+a dollar to take your best gal to see this at the Crystal Palace before
+the war. What are yer grousing abaht?"--_A. E. Grant (late 17th Welch
+Regt.), 174 Broom Road, Teddington._
+
+
+A Short Week-end
+
+One Saturday evening I was standing by my dug-out in Sausage Valley,
+near Fricourt, when a draft of the Middlesex Regt. halted for the guide
+to take them up to the front line where the battalion was. I had a chat
+with one of the lads, who told me he had left England on the Friday.
+
+They moved off, and soon things got lively; a raid and counter-raid
+started.
+
+Later the casualties began to come down, and the poor chaps were lying
+around outside the 1st C.C.S. (which was next to my dug-out). On a
+stretcher was my friend of the draft. He was pretty badly hit. I gave
+him a cigarette and tried to cheer him by telling him he would soon be
+back in England. With a feeble smile he said, "Blimey, sir, this 'as
+been a short week-end, ain't it?"--_Pope Stamper (15th Durham L.I.),
+188A Upper Richmond Road, East Sheen, S.W.14._
+
+
+Simultaneous Chess
+
+At Aubers Ridge, near Fromelles, in October 1918, my chum and I were
+engrossed in a game of chess, our chessboard being a waterproof sheet
+with the squares painted on it, laid across a slab of concrete from a
+destroyed pill-box.
+
+The Germans began to drop 5.9's with alarming regularity about 150
+yards to our rear, temporarily distracting our attention from the game.
+
+Returning to the game, I said to my chum, "Whose move, Joe?"
+
+Before he could reply a shell landed with a deafening roar within a few
+yards of us, but luckily did not explode (hence this story).
+
+His reply was: "Ours"--and we promptly did.--_B. Greenfield, M.M. (late
+Cpl. R.F.A., 47th (London) Division), L.C.C. Parks Dept., Tooting Bec
+Common, S.W._
+
+
+Fire-step Philosophy
+
+On July 1, 1916, I happened to be among those concerned in the
+attack on the German line in front of Serre, near Beaumont Hamel.
+Our onslaught at that point was not conspicuously successful, but we
+managed to establish ourselves temporarily in what had been the Boche
+front line, to the unconcealed indignation of the previous tenants.
+
+During a short lull in the subsequent proceedings I saw one of my
+company--an elderly private whose melancholy countenance and lank black
+moustache will ever remain engraved on my memory--seated tranquilly on
+the battered fire-step, engrossed in a certain humorous journal.
+
+Meeting my astonished eye, he observed in a tone of mild resentment:
+"This 'ere's a dud, sir. 'S not a joke in it--not what _I_ calls a
+joke, anyway."
+
+So saying, he rose, pocketed the paper, and proceeded placidly to get
+on with the war.--_K. R. G. Browne, 6B Winchester Road, N.W.3._
+
+
+"Teddie" Gets the Last Word
+
+Sergeant "Teddie" was rather deaf, but I am inclined to think that this
+slight affliction enabled him to pull our legs on occasions.
+
+[Illustration: "A quarter to seven, sir."]
+
+Our company of the London Regiment had just taken over a part of the
+line known as the Paris Redoubt, and on the first evening in the sector
+the company commander, the second in command, Sergeant "Teddie," and
+myself had a stroll along the observation line, which was just forward
+of the front line, in order to visit the various posts.
+
+Suddenly a salvo of shells came over and one burst perilously near us.
+Three of the party adopted the prone position in record time, but on
+our looking round "Teddie" was seen to be still standing and apparently
+quite unconcerned.
+
+"Why the dickens didn't you get down?" said one of the party, turning
+to him. "It nearly had us that time."
+
+"Time?" said "Teddie," looking at his watch. "A quarter to seven,
+sir."--_J. S. O. (late C.S.M., 15th London Regt.)._
+
+
+"Nobbler's" Grouse
+
+Just before the battle of Messines we of the 23rd Londons were holding
+the Bluff sector to the right of Hill 60. "Stand down" was the order,
+and the sergeant was coming round with the rum.
+
+"Nobbler," late of the Mile End Road, was watching him in joyful
+anticipation when ... a whizz-bang burst on the parapet, hurling men
+in all directions. No one was hurt ... but the precious rum jar was
+shattered.
+
+"Nobbler," sitting up in the mud and moving his tin hat from his
+left eye the better to gaze upon the ruin, murmured bitterly:
+"Louvain--Rheims--the _Lusitania_--and now our perishin' rum issue.
+Jerry, you 'eathen, you gets worse and worse. But, my 'at, won't you
+cop it when 'Aig knows abaht this!"--_E. H. Oliver, Lanark House,
+Woodstock, Oxford._
+
+
+Dust in 'Indenburg's Sauerkraut!
+
+To all those thousands who remember Shrapnel Corner and the sign:
+"DRIVE SLOWLY! SPEED CAUSES DUST WHICH DRAWS THE ENEMY'S SHELL FIRE"
+this incident will appeal.
+
+I had rounded the corner into Zillebeke Road with a load of ammunition,
+and had gone about 200 yards along the road, when Fritz let go with a
+few shells.
+
+"Rum Ration" (my mate's nick-name) looked out of the lorry to observe
+where the shells were falling.
+
+"Nah we're for it," he exclaimed, "our dust must 'ave gorn into ole
+'Indenberg's blinkin' sauerkraut."--_J. H. Clarke, ex-Pte., M.T.A.S.C._
+
+
+A Valiant Son of London
+
+Crack! Crack! Crack!--and men falling with each crack. It is terrible;
+we are faced with mud, misery, and despair. A German machine-gun is
+taking its toll.
+
+It seems impossible to get at the gunners, and we spend hours lying
+in wait. This waiting proves too much for one of us; single-handed
+he takes a chance and crawls away from my side. I keep him covered;
+minutes roll by; they seem hours, days; and, as he is now out of sight,
+I begin to give up hope for him, my Cockney pal.
+
+Some instinct warns me to keep watch, and I am rewarded. I feel my eyes
+start from my head as I see the approaching procession--four Germans,
+hands above their heads, and my pal following, carrying the machine-gun
+across his shoulders. I marvel at his courage and wonder how it was
+done ... but this I am never to know. As I leap from the trench to give
+him assistance I realise his number is nearly up. He is covered with
+blood.
+
+I go to relieve him of his burden, and in that moment one of the
+Germans, sensing that my pal is almost out, turns on us with his
+revolver. We are held at the pistol-point and I know I must make a
+desperate bid to save my pal, who has done his best in an act which
+saved a portion of our line.
+
+I drop the gun and, with a quick movement, I am able to trip the
+nearest German, but he is quick too and manages to stick me (and I
+still carry the mark of his bayonet in my side).
+
+The realisation I am still able to carry on, that life is sweet, holds
+me up, and, with a pluck that showed his determination and Cockney
+courage, my pal throws himself into a position in which he can work the
+gun. _Crack!_ and _Crack!_ again: the remaining Germans are brought
+down.
+
+I am weak with loss of blood, but I am still able to drag my pal with
+me, and, aided by his determination, we get through. It seems we are at
+peace with the world. But, alas, when only five yards from our trenches
+a shell bursts beside us; I have a stinging pain in my shoulder and
+cannot move! Machine-guns and rifles are playing hell.
+
+My pal, though mortally wounded, still tries to drag me to our trench.
+He reaches the parapet ... _Zip_ ... _Zip_. The first has missed, but
+the second gets him. It is a fatal shot, and, though in the greatest
+agony, he manages to give me a message to his folks....
+
+He died at my side, unrewarded by man. The stretcher-bearer told me
+that he had five bullet-holes in him. He lies in France to-day, and I
+owe my life to him, and again I pay homage to his memory and to him
+as one of England's greatest heroes--a Valiant Son of London.--_John
+Batten (late Rifleman, 13 Bn., K.R.R.C.), 50 Sussex Gardens, Hyde Park,
+W.2._
+
+
+A Hint to the Brigadier
+
+Alec Lancaster was a showman at the White City in pre-war days. Short
+in stature, he possessed a mighty heart, and in the ghastly days in
+front of Poelcapelle he made history as the sergeant who took command
+of a brigadier.
+
+The brigadier had been on a visit to the front line to inspect a new
+belt of wire and, passing the ---- headquarters, paused to look around.
+
+Just then a few shells came over in quick succession and things looked
+nasty.
+
+Alec Lancaster took command and guided the brigadier somewhat forcibly
+into a dug-out with the laconic, "Nah, then. We don't want any dead
+brigadiers rahnd 'ere."--_Geo. B. Fuller, 146 Rye Road, Hoddesdon,
+Herts._
+
+
+"Salvage? Yus, Me!"
+
+On the third day of the German offensive in March 1918 a certain
+brigade of the R.F.A. was retiring on Peronne.
+
+A driver, hailing from London town, was in charge of the cook's cart,
+which contained officers' kits belonging to the headquarters' staff.
+
+As he was making his way along a "pip-squeak" came over and burst
+practically beneath the vehicle and blew the whole issue to pieces. The
+driver had a miraculous escape.
+
+When he recovered from the shock he ruefully surveyed the debris, and
+after deciding that nothing could be done, continued his journey on
+foot into Peronne.
+
+Just outside that town he was met by the Adjutant, who said, "Hullo,
+driver, what's happened--where's cook's cart with the kits?"
+
+DRIVER: Blown up, sir.
+
+ADJUTANT (_anxiously_): Anything salved?
+
+DRIVER: Yus, sir, me!--_F. H. Seabright, 12 Broomhill Road, Goodmayes,
+Essex._
+
+
+Almost Self-inflicted
+
+The London (47th) Division, after a strenuous time on the Somme in
+September 1916, were sent to Ypres for a quiet (?) spell, the depleted
+ranks being made up by reserves from home who joined us _en route_.
+
+The 18th Battalion (London Irish), were informed on taking the line
+that their opponents were men of the very same German regiment as they
+had opposed and vanquished at High Wood.
+
+Soon after "stand down" the following morning Rifleman S---- mounted
+the fire-step and, cupping his hands to his mouth, shouted, "Compree
+'Igh Wood, Fritz?"
+
+The words had hardly left his lips when _zip_, a sniper's bullet
+knocked his tin hat off his head and Rifleman S---- found himself lying
+on the duckboards with blood running down his face.
+
+Picking himself up, he calmly gathered his souvenirs together and said
+as he made his way out, "Cheerio, boys, I've got a Blighty one, but
+don't tell the colonel it was self-inflicted."--_A. C. B., Ilford,
+Essex._
+
+
+Nobby's 1,000 to 1 Chance
+
+Our division (the Third) was on its way from the line for the
+long-looked-for rest. We were doing it by road in easy stages.
+
+During a halt a pack animal (with its load of two boxes of ".303")
+became restive and bolted. One box fell off and was being dragged
+by the lashing. Poor old Nobby Clarke, who had been out since Mons,
+stopped the box with his leg, which was broken below the knee.
+
+As he was being carried away one of the stretcher-bearers said, "Well,
+Nobby, you've got a Blighty one at last."
+
+"Yus," said Nobby; "but it took a fousand rahnds to knock me
+over."--_H. Krepper (late 5th Fusiliers), 62 Anerley Road, Upper
+Norwood, S.E. 19._
+
+
+That Derby Scheme
+
+The Commanding Officer of a Territorial battalion was wounded in both
+hands during the third battle of Gaza in 1917. He had much service to
+his credit, was a lieutenant-colonel of over two years' standing, had
+been wounded twice before, and held the D.S.O.
+
+He pluckily remained with his unit for thirty-six hours. Then, worn
+out with lack of sleep, pain, and loss of blood, and filled with
+disappointment at having to leave his battalion still in the fight, he
+trudged back to the field ambulance.
+
+His sufferings, which had aged his appearance, and the Tommy's tunic
+which he wore in action, apparently misled a party of 10th London men
+whom he passed. They looked sympathetically at him, and one said, "Poor
+old blighter, _'e ought never to 'ave been called up_."--_Captain J.
+Finn, M.C., Constitutional Club, W.C.2._
+
+
+"Shoo-Shoo-Shooting"
+
+There were no proper trenches in front of Armentieres in early December
+1914, and a machine gun section was doing its best to build an
+emplacement and cover. It was in the charge of a young Londoner who in
+times of excitement stuttered badly.
+
+Not being satisfied with the position of one sandbag, he hopped over
+those already in place, and in full view of Jerry (it was daylight
+too), began to adjust the sandbag that displeased him.
+
+Jerry immediately turned a machine gun on him, but the young officer
+finished his work, and then stood up.
+
+Looking towards Jerry as the section yelled to him to come down,
+he stuttered angrily. "I b-b-be-lieve the bli-bli-blighters are
+shoo-shoo-shoo-shoo-ting at me." At that moment someone grabbed his
+legs and pulled him down. It was a fine example of cool nerve.--_T. D.,
+Victoria, S.W.1._
+
+
+Ancient Britons?--No!
+
+It happened late in 1917 in Tank Avenue, just on the left of
+Monchy-le-Preux. It was a foul night of rain, wind, sleet, and
+whizz-bangs.
+
+My battalion had just been relieved, and we were making our way out as
+best we could down the miry communication trench. Every now and again
+we had to halt and press ourselves against the trench side to allow a
+straggling working party of the K.R.R.s to pass up into the line.
+
+Shells were falling all over the place, and suddenly Fritz dropped one
+right into the trench a few bays away from where I was.
+
+I hurried down and found two of the working party lying on the
+duckboards. They were both wounded, and one of them had his tunic
+ripped off him by the force of the explosion. What with his tattered
+uniform--and what remained of it--and his face and bare chest smothered
+in mud, he was a comical though pathetic sight. He still clung to his
+bundle of pickets he had been carrying and he sat up and looked round
+with a puzzled expression.
+
+One of our sergeants--a rather officious fellow--pushed himself forward.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked. "K.R.R.s?"
+
+"'Course," retorted the half-naked Cockney. "Oo d'ye fink we
+was--Ancient Britons?"--_E. Gordon Petrie (late Cameron Highlanders),
+"Hunky-Dory," Demesne Road, Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+Desert Island--Near Bullecourt
+
+Between Ecoust and Bullecourt in January 1918 my platoon was passing
+a mine crater which was half-full of water when suddenly Jerry sent
+one over. Six of our fellows were wounded, and one of them, a Bow Road
+Cockney, was hurled into the crater.
+
+[Illustration: "Robinson Crusoe."]
+
+He struggled to his feet and staggered towards a pile of rubble that
+rose above the muddy water like an island. Arrived there, he sat down
+and looked round him in bewilderment. Then: "Blimey," he muttered,
+"Robinson ruddy Crusoe!"--_E. McQuaid (late R.S.F.), 22 Grove Road,
+S.W.9._
+
+
+"Tiger's" Little Trick
+
+On October 11-12, 1914, during the Mons retreat, a small party of 2nd
+Life Guards were told off as outpost on the main road, near Wyngene,
+Belgium. After we had tied our horses behind a farmhouse at the side of
+the road, we settled down to await the arrival of "Jerry."
+
+Time went slowly, and one of our troopers suggested that we all put a
+half-franc into an empty "bully" tin, and the first one of us who shot
+a German was to take the lot. To this we all agreed.
+
+It was about midnight when, suddenly, out of the shadows, rode a German
+Death's-head Hussar. We all raised our rifles as one man, but before we
+could shoot "Tiger" Smith, one of our real Cockney troopers, shouted,
+"_Don't shoot! Don't shoot!_" During our momentary hesitation "Tiger's"
+rifle rang out, and off rolled the German into the road.
+
+Upon our indignant inquiry as to why he had shouted "Don't shoot,"
+"Tiger" quietly said, "Nah, then, none of your old buck; just hand
+over that tin of 'alf francs I've won."--_Fred Bruty (late Corporal
+of Horse, 2nd Life Guards), City of London Police Dwellings, No. 3,
+Ferndale Court, Ferndale Road, S.W.9._
+
+
+Raffle Draw To-night!
+
+Near St. Quentin, in October 1918, I was in charge of a section that
+was detailed to cross a railway to establish communication with troops
+on the other side. Unfortunately we were spotted by a German machine
+gunner, who made things very hot for us, two men being quickly hit. We
+managed, however, to reach a small mound where, by lying quite flat, we
+were comparatively safe.
+
+Glancing in the direction from which we had come, I saw a man whom I
+recognised as "Topper" Brown, our company runner, dashing as hard as he
+could for the cover where we had sheltered.
+
+"How do, corp?" he said when he came up. "Any of your blokes like to go
+in a raffle for this watch?" (producing same). "'Arf a franc a time;
+draw to-night in St. Quentin."--_S. Hills (late Rifle Brigade), 213,
+Ripple Road, Barking._
+
+
+Exit the General's Dessert
+
+In the early part of the War we were dug in between the Marne and the
+Aisne with H.Q. situated in a trench along which were growing several
+fruit trees which the troops were forbidden to touch.
+
+The Boche were shelling with what was then considered to be heavy
+stuff, and we were all more or less under cover, when a large one hit
+the back of the trench near H.Q.
+
+After the mess staff had recovered from the shock it was noticed
+that apples were still falling from a tree just above, and the mess
+corporal, his ears and eyes still full of mud, was heard to say: "Thank
+'eaven, I shan't have to climb that perishin' tree and get the old
+man's bloomin' dessert to-night."--_E. Adamson, Overseas Club, St.
+James's._
+
+
+"Try on this Coat, Sir"
+
+In September 1916, while with the 17th K.R.R.C., I lost my overcoat
+in a billet fire at Mailly-Maillet and indented for a new one, which,
+however, failed to turn up.
+
+We moved to Hebuterne, where the line was very lively and the working
+parties used to be strafed with "Minnies" all night.
+
+One night, while on patrol, with nerves on the jump, I was startled to
+hear a voice at my elbow say, "Try this on."
+
+It was the Q.M.'s corporal with the overcoat!
+
+I solemnly tried it on there and then in No Man's Land, about 300 yards
+in front of our front line and not very far from the German line.
+
+The corporal quite casually explained that he had some difficulty in
+finding me out there in the dark, but he did not want the trouble of
+carrying stuff out of the line when we moved!--_S. W. Chuckerbutty,
+(L.R.B. and K.R.R.C.), 3 Maida Hill West, London, W.2._
+
+
+On the Kaiser's Birthday
+
+In the Brickstacks at Givenchy, 1916. The Germans were celebrating the
+Kaiser's birthday by putting a steady succession of "Minnies" into and
+around our front line trench.
+
+Just when the strain was beginning to tell and nerves were getting
+jumpy, a little Cockney corporal jumped on the fire-step and, shaking
+his fist at the Germans forty yards away, bawled, "You wait till it's
+_my_ ruddy birthday!"
+
+Fritz didn't wait two seconds, but the little corporal had got his
+laugh and wasn't taking a curtain.--_"Bison" (late R.W.F.)._
+
+
+"Chuck us yer Name Plate!"
+
+In June 1917 we were ordered to lay a line to the front line at "Plug
+Street". Fritz started to bombard us with whizz-bangs, and my pal and
+I took cover behind a heap of sandbags, noticing at the same time that
+all the infantrymen were getting away from the spot.
+
+When things quietened down we heard a Cockney voice shouting, "Hi,
+mate! Chuck us yer name plate (identification disc). Y're sitting up
+against our bomb store."--_S. Doust (late Signal Section, "F" Battery,
+R.H.A.), 53 Wendover Road, Well Hall, Eltham, S.E.9._
+
+
+To Hold His Hand
+
+While on our way to relieve the 1st R.W.F.s, who were trying their
+utmost to hold a position in front of Mametz Wood, it was necessary to
+cross a road, very much exposed to Jerry's machine guns.
+
+A burst of firing greeted our attempt, and when we succeeded, a Cockney
+who had a flesh wound caused a smile by saying, "Go back? Not me. Next
+time I crosses a road I wants a blinking copper ter 'old me 'and?"--_G.
+Furnell, 57a Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+The New Landlord
+
+During an advance on the Somme in 1916 my company was rushed up to the
+captured trenches to search the dug-outs and to bring in the prisoners.
+
+My Cockney pal was evidently enjoying himself. As he went from one
+dug-out to another he was singing:
+
+    "Orl that I want is lo-ove,
+     Orl that I want is yew."
+
+Entering one dug-out, however, his voice suddenly changed. In the
+dug-out were three Germans. Showing them the point of his bayonet,
+the Cockney roared: "Nah, then, aht of it; 'op it. I'm lan'lord 'ere
+nah."--_C. Grimwade, 26 Rotherhithe New Road, Rotherhithe, S.E.16._
+
+
+"Out of Bounds" in the Line
+
+One night in October '14, in the neighbourhood of Herlies, "Ginger," a
+reservist, was sent out to call in the men of a listening post.
+
+Dawn came, but no "Ginger" returned, and as he did not turn up during
+the day he was given up for lost.
+
+Soon after dusk, however, a very worn and fed-up "Ginger" returned. We
+gathered that he had suddenly found himself in the German lines, had
+had a "dust-up," had got away, and had lain out in No Man's Land until
+dusk allowed him to get back.
+
+The company officer was inclined to be cross with him, and asked him,
+"But what made you go so far as the enemy position?"
+
+"Ginger" scratched his head, and then replied, "Well, sir, nobody said
+anyfink to me abaht it being aht o' bahnds."--_T. L. Barling (late
+Royal Fusiliers), 21 Lockhart Street, Bow, E.3._
+
+
+Epic of the Whistling Nine
+
+On May 14, 1917, the 2/2nd Battalion of the London Regiment occupied
+the support lines in front of Bullecourt. "A" company's position was
+a thousand yards behind the front line trenches. At 2 p.m. the enemy
+began to subject the whole area to an intense bombardment which lasted
+more than thirteen hours.
+
+In the middle of the bombardment (which was described by the
+G.O.C.-in-Chief as "the most intense bombardment British troops had had
+to withstand"), No. 3 platoon of "A" company was ordered to proceed to
+the front line with bombs for the battalion holding it. The platoon
+consisted of 31 N.C.O.s and men and one officer.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The only means of communication between the support and front lines was
+a trench of an average depth of two feet. Along this trench the platoon
+proceeded, carrying between them forty boxes of Mills bombs. Every few
+yards there were deep shell holes to cross; tangled telephone wires
+tripped the men; M. G. bullets swept across the trench, and heavy
+shells obtained direct hits frequently, while shrapnel burst overhead
+without cessation.
+
+A man was hit every few minutes; those nearest him rendered what aid
+was possible, unless he was already dead; his bombs were carried on by
+another.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of the thirty-one who started, twenty-one were killed or wounded; the
+remainder, having taken an hour and a half to cover the 1,000 yards,
+reached the front line _with the forty boxes of bombs intact_.
+
+They were ordered to remain, and thus found themselves assisting in
+repulsing an attack made by the 3rd Lehr Regiment of Prussian Guards,
+and two of the men succeeded in wounding and capturing the commanding
+officer of the attacking regiment.
+
+Of the ten N.C.O.s and men who were left, a lance-corporal was blown
+to pieces in the trench; the remainder stayed in the front line until
+they were relieved four days later. On their way back, through Vaux
+Vraucourt, they picked clusters of May blossom, and with these in
+their equipment and rifle barrels, marched into the transport lines
+whistling.--_Captain, London Regiment._
+
+
+Tale of a Cook and a "Crump"
+
+Our cook was having the time of his life. The transition from trench
+warfare to more or less open warfare in late October 1918 brought with
+it a welcome change of diet in the form of pigs and poultry from the
+deserted farms, and cook had captured a nice young porker and two brace
+of birds.
+
+From the pleasant aroma which reached us from the cottage as we lay on
+our backs watching a German aeroplane we knew that cook would soon be
+announcing the feast was ready.
+
+Suddenly from the blue came a roar like that of an express train. We
+flung ourselves into the ditch.... _K-k-k-k-r-r-r-ump!_
+
+When the smoke and dust cleared away the cottage was just a rubbish
+heap, but there was cook, most miraculously crawling out from beneath a
+debris of rafters, beams, and bricks!
+
+"Ruddy 'orseplay!" was the philosopher's comment.--_I. O., 19 Burnell
+Road, Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"---- Returns the Penny"
+
+When my husband commanded the 41st Division in France he was much
+struck by the ready wit of a private of the Royal Fusiliers (City of
+London Regiment) in a tight corner.
+
+A bomb landed in a crowded dug-out while the men were having a meal.
+Everyone stared aghast at this ball of death except one Tommy, who
+promptly picked it up and flung it outside saying: "Grite stren'th
+returns the penny, gentlemen!" as he returned to his bully beef.--_Lady
+Lawford, London, S.W.1._
+
+
+"In Time for the Workman's?"
+
+A night wire-cutting party in the Arras sector had been surprised by
+daylight. All the members of the party (21st London Regiment) crawled
+back safely except one Cockney rifleman.
+
+When we had reached the trenches and found that he was missing, we were
+a bit upset. Would he have to lie out in No Man's Land all day? Would
+he be spotted by snipers?
+
+After a while our doubts were answered by a terrific burst from the
+German machine guns. Some of the bolder spirits peered over the top of
+the "bags" and saw our Cockney pal rushing, head down, towards our line
+while streams of death poured around him.
+
+He reached our parapet, fell down amongst us in the mud, uninjured,
+and immediately jumped to his feet and said, "Am I in time for the
+workman's?"--_D. F., Acton, W.3._
+
+
+A Lovely Record
+
+The Time: March 1916.
+
+The Scene: The Talus des Zouaves--a narrow valley running behind Vimy
+Ridge from Neuville St. Vaast through Souchez. The weather is bleak,
+and there is a sticky drizzle--it is towards dusk.
+
+The Man: A native of "somewhere just awf the 'Bricklayers Arms'--you
+know where that is, sir." Height, just over 5 feet; complexion, red;
+hair, red and not over tidy; appearance, awkward; clothes don't seem
+to fit quite. Distinguishing marks--a drooping red moustache almost
+concealing a short clay pipe, stuck bowl sideways in the corner of the
+mouth. On the face there is a curious--whimsical--wistful, in fact, a
+Cockney expression.
+
+The Occasion: The Boche is putting down his evening "strafe"--an
+intense and very accurate barrage laid like a curtain on the southern
+slope of the valley. Our hero, his hands closed round the stock of
+his rifle held between his knees, is squatting unconcernedly on the
+wet ground in the open on the northern side of the valley, where only
+a shell with a miraculous trajectory could have scored a direct hit,
+watching the shells burst almost every second not a great distance
+away. The din and pandemonium are almost unbearable. Fragments of H.E.
+and shrapnel are dropping very near.
+
+The Remark: Removing his pipe to reveal the flicker of a smile, he
+remarked, in his inimitable manner: "_Lor' blimey, guv'nor, wouldn't
+this sahnd orl rite on a grammerphone?_"--_Gordon Edwards, M.C.
+(Captain, late S.W.B.), "Fairholm," 48 Alexandra Road, Wimbledon,
+S.W.19._
+
+
+Logic in No Man's Land
+
+Fritz had been knocking our wire about, and a party of us were detailed
+to repair it. One of our party, a trifle more windy than the rest, kept
+ducking at the stray bullets that were whistling by. Finally, 'Erb,
+who was holding the coil of wire, said to him, "Can't yer stop that
+bobbin' abaht? They won't 'urt yer unless they 'its yer."--_C. Green,
+44 Monson Road, New Cross, S.E.14._
+
+
+Fousands ... and Millions
+
+It was on the Mons-Conde Canal, on the afternoon of August 23, 1914.
+Our artillery had just opened up when a tiny Cockney trumpeter, who
+could not have been more than 15 years old, came galloping up to us
+with a message.
+
+[Illustration: "They're coming on in millions."]
+
+"How are the gunners going on, boy?" said my captain.
+
+"Knocking 'em down in fousands, sir," replied the lad.
+
+"Good," said the captain.
+
+"Yus, and they're coming on in millions," replied the boy as he rode
+away to his battery.
+
+A plucky kid, that.--_W. H. White, 29 Clive Road, Colliers Wood,
+S.W.19._
+
+
+Lost: A Front Line
+
+Two or three American officers were attached to our brigade H.Q. on the
+Somme front.
+
+We were doing our usual four days in the front line when one morning
+an American officer emerged from the communication trench. Just then
+the Germans opened out with everything from a 5.9 to rifle grenade. We
+squeezed into funk-holes in the bottom of the trench. Presently there
+was a lull, and the American officer was heard to ask, "Say, boys,
+where is the front line in these parts?"
+
+"Tich," a little Cockney from Euston way, extracted himself from
+the earth, and exclaimed, "Strike! j'ear that? Wot jer fink this
+is--a blinkin' rifle range?"--_W. Wheeler (late 23rd Battalion Royal
+Fusiliers), 55 Turney Road, Dulwich, S.E._
+
+
+"If Our Typist Could See Me Nah"
+
+Imagine (if you can) the mud on the Somme at its worst. A Royal Marine
+Artilleryman (a very junior clerk from "Lambeff") was struggling up the
+gentle slope behind Trones Wood with a petrol tin of precious water
+in either hand. A number of us were admiring his manly efforts from a
+distance when the sudden familiar shriek was heard, followed by the
+equally familiar bang.
+
+We saw him thrown to the ground as the whizz-bang burst but a few feet
+from him, and we rushed down, certain that he had "got his." Imagine
+our surprise on being greeted by an apparition that had struggled to
+a sitting posture, liberally plastered with mud, and a wound in the
+shoulder, who hoarsely chuckled and said: "If our typist could see me
+_nah_!"--_C. H. F. (W/Opr. attached R.M.A. Heavy Brigade)._
+
+
+Q! Q! Queue!
+
+The scene was an observation post in the top of a (late) colliery
+chimney, 130 ft. up, on the outskirts of Bethune, during the last
+German offensive of the War.
+
+A great deal of heavy shelling was in progress in our immediate
+vicinity, and many of Fritz's "high-velocities" were screaming past our
+lofty pinnacle, which was swaying with the concussion. At any moment a
+direct hit was possible.
+
+My Cockney mate had located a hostile battery, and after some
+difficulty with the field telephone was giving the bearing to
+headquarters.
+
+Faults in the line seemed to prevent him from finishing his message,
+which consisted of giving the map square (Q 20) being "strafed." The
+"Q" simply would not reach the ears of the corporal at headquarters,
+and after many fruitless efforts, using "Q" words, I heard him burst
+out in exasperation: "Q! Q! Queue! ... Blimey! you know--the blinkin'
+thing wot the pore blighters at home wite abaht for 'mawgarine'
+in."--_B. W. Whayman (late F.S.C., R.E.), 24 Oxford Street, Boston,
+Lincolnshire._
+
+
+"Fine 'eads er Salery!"
+
+We were in a deep railway cutting near Gouzeancourt. Jerry's aeroplanes
+had found us and his artillery was trying to shift us.
+
+On the third day we had run out of cigarettes, so the sergeant-major
+asked for a volunteer to go to a canteen four miles away.
+
+Our Cockney, a costermonger well known in the East End, volunteered.
+He could neither read nor write, so we fixed him up with francs, a
+sandbag, and a list.
+
+Hours passed, the strafe became particularly heavy, and we began to
+fear our old pal had been hit.
+
+Suddenly during a lull in the shelling far away along the ravine we
+heard a voice shouting, "Ere's yer fine 'eads er salery 'orl white." He
+was winning through.--_"Sparks," Lowestoft, Suffolk._
+
+
+The Old Soldier Falls
+
+After my battalion had been almost wiped out in the 1918 retirement, I
+was transferred to the 1st Batt. Middlesex Regt. One old soldier, known
+to us as "Darky," who had been out since '14, reported at B.H.Q. that
+he wanted to go up the front line with his old mates instead of resting
+behind the line.
+
+His wish was granted. He was detailed to escort a party of us to the
+front line.
+
+All went well till we arrived at the support line, where we were told
+to be careful of snipers.
+
+We had only gone 20 yards further when the old soldier fell back into
+my arms, shot through the head. He was dying when he opened his eyes
+and said to me, "Straight on, lad. You can find your way now."--_A. H.
+Walker, 59 Wilberforce Road, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+Not Meant For Him
+
+At the end of September 1917 my regiment (5th Seaforth Highlanders)
+were troubled by bombing raids by enemy aircraft at the unhealthy
+regularity of one raid per hour. We were under canvas at Siege Camp,
+in the Ypres sector, and being near to a battery of large guns we were
+on visiting terms with some of the gunners, who were for the most part
+London men.
+
+A Lewisham man was writing a letter in our tent one day when we
+again had the tip that the Germans were flying towards us. So we all
+scattered.
+
+After the raid we returned to our tent and were surprised to see our
+artillery friend still writing his letter. We asked him whether he
+had stayed there the whole time and in reply he read us the following
+passage from his letter which he had written during the raid:
+
+"As I write this letter Jerry is bombing the Jocks, but although I am
+in their camp, being a Londoner, I suppose the raid is not meant for
+me, and I feel quite safe."--_W. A. Bull, M.M., 62 Norman Road, llford,
+Essex._
+
+
+An Extra Fast Bowler
+
+During the defence of Antwerp in October 1914 my chum, who was
+wicket-keeper in the Corps cricket team, got hit in the head.
+
+I was with him when he came to, and asked him what happened.
+
+"Extra fast one on the leg side," was his reply.--_J. Russell (late
+R.M.L.I.), 8 Northcote Road, Deal, Kent._
+
+
+"I'll Call a Taxi, Sir"
+
+During an engagement in East Africa an officer was badly wounded. Bill,
+from Bermondsey, rode out to him on a mule. Whilst he was trying to get
+the officer away on his mule the animal bolted. Bill then said, "Me
+mule 'opped it, sir. 'E's a fousand miles from 'ere, so I'll giv yer a
+lift on my Bill and Jack (back)."
+
+The officer was too heavy, so Bill put him gently on the ground saying,
+"Sorry, sir, I'll 'ave ter call a taxi." Bill then ran 500 yards under
+heavy machine-gun fire to where the armoured cars were under cover. He
+brought one out, and thereby saved the officer's life.
+
+After the incident, Bill's attention was drawn to a bullet hole in his
+pith helmet. "Blimey," he said, "what a shot! If he 'adn't a missed me,
+'e'd a 'it me." Bill was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.--_W.
+B. Higgins, D.C.M. (late Corpl. Mounted Infantry), 46 Stanley Road,
+Ilford._
+
+
+Attack in "Birthday Clothes"
+
+We came out of the line on the night of June 14-15, 1917, to "bivvies"
+at Mory, after a hot time from both Fritz and weather at Bullecourt.
+When dawn broke we were astonished and delighted to see a "bath."
+Whilst we were in the line our Pioneers had a brain wave, dug a hole in
+the ground, lined it with a tarpaulin sheet, and filled it with water.
+
+As our last bath was at Achiet-le-Petit six weeks before, there was a
+tremendous crowd waiting "mit nodings on," because there was "standing
+room only" for about twenty in the bath.
+
+Whilst ablutions were in progress an aeroplane was heard, but no
+notice was taken because it was flying so low--"one of ours" everybody
+thought. When it came nearer there was a shout, "Strewth, it's a Jerry
+plane."
+
+Baths were "off" for the moment and there was a stampede to the
+"bivvies" for rifles. It was the funniest thing in the world to see
+fellows running about in their "birthday suits" plus only tin hats,
+taking pot shots at the aeroplane.
+
+Even Fritz seemed surprised, because it was some moments before he
+replied with his machine gun.
+
+We watched him fly away back to his own lines and a voice broke the
+silence with, "Blinkin' fools to put on our tin 'ats. Uvverwise 'ole
+Fritz wouldn't a known but what we might be Germans."
+
+I often wonder if any other battalion had the "honour" of "attacking
+the enemy" clad only in tin hats.--_G. M. Rampton (late 12th London
+Regt., "Rangers"), 43 Cromwell Road, Winchester._
+
+
+His Good-bye to the Q.M.
+
+Scene, Ypres, May 1915. The battalion to which I belonged had been
+heavily shelled for many hours, and among the casualties was "Topper"
+Brown, a Cockney, who was always in trouble for losing items of his
+kit. Taken to the dressing station to have a badly shattered foot
+amputated, he recovered consciousness to find the C.Q.M.S. standing by
+the stretcher on which he lay.
+
+The C.Q.M.S., not knowing the extent of Brown's injury, inquired,
+"What's the trouble, Brown?"
+
+In a weak voice the Cockney replied, "Lost one boot and one sock again,
+Quarter."--_E. E. Daniels (late K.R.R.), 178 Caledonian Road, N.1._
+
+
+From Bow and Harrow
+
+We were in the line at Neuville St. Vaast in 1916. A raid had just been
+carried out. In the party were two inseparable chums, one from Bow and
+one from Harrow. (Of course they were known as Bow and Arrow.)
+
+The bulk of the raiders had returned, but some were yet to come in.
+Some time later three forms were seen crawling towards our line. They
+were promptly helped in.
+
+As their faces were blackened they were hard to recognise, and a
+corporal asked them who they were.
+
+"Don't yer know us?" said the chap from Bow. "We're Bow and Arrow."
+"Blimey!" said another Cockney standing by. "And I suppose the other
+bloke's Robin 'ood, aint 'e."--_G. Holloway (late London Regt. and 180
+M.G.C.), 179 Lewis Buildings, West Kensington, W.14._
+
+
+Piccadilly in the Front Line
+
+Towards the end of September 1918 I was one of a party of nine men and
+an officer taking part in a silent raid in the Ypres sector, a little
+in front of the well-known spot called Swan and Edgar's Corner. The
+raid was the outcome of an order from Headquarters demanding prisoners
+for information.
+
+Everything had been nicely arranged. We were to approach the German
+line by stealth, surprise an outpost, and get back quickly to our own
+trenches with the prisoners.
+
+Owing perhaps to the wretchedness of the night--it was pouring with
+rain, and intensely black--things did not work according to plan.
+Instead of reaching our objective, our party became divided, and the
+group that I was with got hopelessly lost. There were five of us,
+including "Ginger," a Cockney.
+
+We trod warily for about an hour, when we suddenly came up against a
+barbed-wire entanglement, in the centre of which we could just make
+out the figure of a solitary German. After whispered consultation, we
+decided to take him prisoner, knowing that the German, having been
+stationary, had not lost sense of direction and could guide us back
+to our line. Noiselessly surmounting the barbed wire, we crept up to
+him and in a second Ginger was on him. Pointing his bayonet in Fritz's
+back, he said, "Nah, then, you blighter, show us the way 'ome."
+
+Very coolly and without the slightest trace of fear, the German replied
+in perfect English, "I suppose you mean me to lead you to the British
+trenches."
+
+"Oh!" said Ginger, "so yer speak English, do yer?"
+
+"Yes," said the German, "I was a waiter at a restaurant in Piccadilly
+before the War."
+
+"Piccadilly, eh? You're just the feller we want. Take us as far as Swan
+and Edgar's Corner."--_R. Allen (late Middlesex Regt., 41st Division),
+7 Moreland Street, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+"Wag's" Exhortation
+
+On a bitterly cold night, with a thick fog settling, the Middlesex
+Regt. set out on a raid on a large scale on the enemy's trenches.
+Fritz must have got wind of it, for when they were about half-way
+across the enemy guns opened fire and simply raked No Man's Land. The
+air was alive with shrapnel and nearly two-thirds of the raiders were
+casualties in no time.
+
+Those that could tried to crawl back to our lines, but soon lost
+all direction in the fog. About half a dozen of them crawled into a
+shell-hole and lay there wounded or exhausted from their efforts, and
+afraid to move while the bombardment continued.
+
+Meanwhile "Wag" Bennett, a Cockney, though badly wounded, had dragged
+himself out of a shell-hole, and was crawling towards what proved later
+to be the enemy lines when he saw the forms of the other fellows in the
+darkness. As he peered down upon them he called out, "Strike me pink!
+Lyin' abaht dahn there as if you was at the 'Otel Cissle, while there's
+a ruddy war agoin' on. Come on up aht of it, else you'll git us all a
+bad name."
+
+In a moment they were heartened, and they crawled out, following "Wag"
+on their hands and knees and eventually regained our lines. Poor "Wag"
+died soon afterwards from his wounds.--_H. Newing, 1 Park Cottages,
+Straightsmouth, Greenwich, S.E.10._
+
+
+Making a King of Him
+
+Our company of the Middlesex Regiment had captured a hill from Johnny
+Turk one evening, and at once prepared for the counter-attack on the
+morrow. My platoon was busy making a trench. On the parapet we placed
+large stones instead of sandbags.
+
+During these operations we were greeted with machine-gun fire from
+Johnny and, our numbers being small, we had to keep firing from
+different positions so as to give the impression that we were stronger
+than we really were.
+
+It was while we were scrambling from one position to another that
+"Smudger" Smith, from Hammersmith, said: "Love us, Sarge, 'ow's this
+for a blinkin' game of draughts?" The words were hardly out of his
+mouth when Johnny dropped a 5.9 about thirty yards away. The force of
+the explosion shook one of the stones from the parapet right on to
+"Smudger's" head, and he was knocked out.
+
+When he came round his first words were: "Blimey, they must 'ave 'eard
+me to crown me like that."--_W. R. Mills (late Sergt., 2/10th Middlesex
+Regt.), 15 Canterbury Road, Colchester, Essex._
+
+
+"Peace? Not wiv you 'ere!"
+
+Two Cockney pals who were always trying to get the better of one
+another in a battle of words by greeting each other with such remarks
+as "Ain't you blinkin' well dead yet?" earned for themselves the
+nick-names of Bill and Coo.
+
+One evening they were sent to fetch water, and on the return journey
+the Germans started to shell rather heavily.
+
+Coo ran more quickly than Bill and fell into a shell-hole. He scrambled
+out in time to see his pal blown sky high by what appeared to be a
+direct hit.
+
+Coo was heard to remark: "I always told 'im 'e ought to be reported
+missing, and blimey if 'e ain't."
+
+He then went to see if he could find the body: instead he found Bill
+alive, though badly wounded.
+
+When finally Coo got his pal back to the trench, Bill opened his eyes.
+Seeing Coo bending over him, he said: "Lumme, I thought peace 'ad come
+at last, but it ain't--not wiv you 'ere."--_William Walker, 30 Park
+Road, Stopsley Road, Luton, Beds._
+
+
+An Expert on Shells
+
+We were billeted in the vaults of Ypres Post Office. Towards dusk of
+a summer's day in 1916 four of us were lounging at the top of the
+vault stairs, discussing the noise made by different shells. Jerry,
+a Cockney, was saying, "Yes, yer can always tell big 'uns--they
+shuffles," and went on to demonstrate with _Shsh-shsh-shsh_, when
+someone said "Listen!"
+
+There was the real sound, and coming straight for us. We dived or fell
+to the bottom of the stairs. Followed a terrific "crump" right in the
+entrance, which was completely blocked up.
+
+Every candle and lamp was blown out; we were choking with dust and
+showered with bricks and masonry.
+
+There was a short silence, and Jerry's voice from the darkness said,
+"There y'are; wot did I tell yer?"--_H. W. Lake, London._
+
+
+A Camel "on the Waggon"
+
+During the battle of Gaza in April 1917 camels were used for the
+conveyance of wounded. Each camel carried a stretcher on either side
+of its hump. Travelling in this manner was something akin to a rough
+Channel crossing.
+
+[Illustration: "I believe he was drunk before we set eyes on him."]
+
+I was wounded in the leg. My companion was severely wounded in both
+legs. Some very uncomplimentary remarks were passed between us
+concerning camels, particularly the one which was carrying us.
+
+When we arrived at a field dressing-station a sergeant of the R.A.M.C.
+came along with liquid refreshments.
+
+"Sergeant," said my chum, "if you give this bloke (indicating the
+camel) anything to drink I'm going to walk, 'cos I believe the blighter
+was drunk before we ever set eyes on him."--_Albert J. Fairall, 43
+Melbourne Road, Leyton, E.10._
+
+
+Parting Presents
+
+It was on Passchendaele Ridge in 1917. Jerry had been giving us a hot
+time with his heavies. Just before daybreak our telephone line went
+west and we could not get through to our O.P.
+
+I was detailed to go out and repair the line with a young Cockney from
+Hackney. He had only been with us a few days and it was his first time
+up the line.
+
+We had mended one break when shells dropped all round us. When I got
+to my feet, I saw my pal lying several feet away. I escaped with a few
+splinters and shock. I dragged my chum to a shell-hole which was full
+of water and found he was badly hit about the shoulder, chest, and leg.
+I dressed him as best I possibly could, when, _bang_, a shell seemed
+to drop right on us and something came hurtling into our hole with a
+splash.
+
+It turned out to be a duckboard. I propped my chum against it to stop
+him slipping back into the water. After a few minutes he opened his
+eyes, and though in terrible pain, smiled and said, "Lummy, Jeff, old
+Jerry ain't so bad, after all. He has given me a nice souvenir to take
+to Blighty and now he has sent me a raft to cross the Pond on." Then he
+became unconscious.
+
+It was now daybreak and quiet. I pulled him out of the hole and went
+and repaired the line. We got him away all right, but I never heard
+from him. I only hope he pulled through: he showed pluck.--_Signaller
+H. Jeffrey (late Royal Artillery), 13 Bright Road, Luton, Chatham,
+Kent._
+
+
+Bluebottles and Wopses
+
+We had just gone into the front line. Two of us had not been there
+before.
+
+During a conversation with a Cockney comrade, an old hand, we told him
+of our dislike of bombs. He tried to re-assure us something like this:
+"Nah, don't let them worry you. You treat 'em just like blue-bottles,
+only different. With a blue-bottle you watch where it settles an' 'it
+it, but with bombs, you watch where they're goin' to settle and 'op it.
+It's quite simple."
+
+A short time after a small German bomb came over and knocked out our
+adviser. My friend and I picked him up and tried to help him. He was
+seriously hurt. As we lifted him up my friend said to him, "You didn't
+get your blue-bottle that time, did you?" He smiled back as he replied:
+"'Twasn't a blue-bottle, mate; must 'ave been a blinkin' wopse."--_C.
+Booth, 5 Creighton Road, N.W.6._
+
+
+The Cheerful "Card"
+
+On that June morning in 1917 when Messines Ridge went up, a young chap
+was brought in to our A.D.S. in Woodcote Farm. A piece of shell had
+torn a great gap in each thigh. Whilst the sergeant was applying the
+iodine by means of a spray the M.O. asked, "How are things going this
+morning?" The lad was wearing a red heart as his battalion sign, and
+despite his great pain he answered: "O.K. sir. Hearts were trumps this
+morning."--_R. J. Graff, 3/5th L.F.A., 47th Division, 20 Lawrie Park
+Road, Sydenham._
+
+
+Great Stuff This Shrapnel
+
+During the retreat from Mons it was the cavalry's work to hold up the
+Germans as long as possible, to allow our infantry to get in position.
+
+One day we had a good way to run to our horses, being closely pursued
+by the Germans. When we reached them we were all more or less out of
+breath. A little Cockney was so winded that he could hardly reach his
+stirrup, which kept slipping from under his foot.
+
+Just then a shrapnel shell burst directly overhead, and the Cockney,
+without using his stirrup, vaulted clean into the saddle.
+
+As we galloped off he gasped, "Blimey, don't they put new life in yer?
+They're as good as Kruschens."--_E. H. (late R.H.G.), 87 Alpha Road,
+Surbiton, Surrey._
+
+
+Wot a War!
+
+Three of us were sitting on the high ground on the Gallipoli Beach
+watching shells dropping from the Turk positions.
+
+A "G.S." wagon was proceeding slowly along below us, the driver huddled
+in his coat, for the air was chill.
+
+Suddenly he jumped from the wagon and ran in our direction--he had
+heard the shell before we had.
+
+The next moment the wagon was proceeding skywards in many directions,
+and the horses were departing at top speed in different directions.
+
+The driver surveyed the scene for a moment and then in a very
+matter-of-fact voice said: "Blimey! See that? Now I suppose I've
+got to _walk_ back, and me up all night--wot a war!" And away he
+trudged!--_C. J. A., N.W.11._
+
+
+The Umpire
+
+After a retreat in May 1915 we saw, lying between our fresh position
+and the German lines, an English soldier whom we took to be dead.
+
+Later, however, we advanced again, and discovered that the man was not
+dead, but badly wounded.
+
+On being asked who he was, he replied in a very weak voice, "I fink
+I must be the blinkin' umpire."--_W. King (late Royal Fusiliers), 94
+Manor Grove, Richmond, Surrey._
+
+
+"Don't Tell 'Aig"
+
+Little "Ginger" was the life and soul of our platoon until he was
+wounded on the Somme in 1918.
+
+As he was carried off to the dressing-station he waved his hand feebly
+over the side of the stretcher and whispered, "Don't tell 'Aig! He'd
+worry somethin' shockin'."--_G. E. Morris (late Royal Fusiliers), 368
+Ivydale Road, Peckham Rye, S.E.15._
+
+
+"... In Love and War"
+
+During a most unpleasant night bombing raid on the transport lines at
+Haillecourt the occupants of a Nissen hut were waiting for the next
+crash when out of the darkness and silence came the Cockney voice of
+a lorry driver saying to his mate, "'Well,' I sez to 'er, I sez, 'You
+do as you like, and I can't say no fairer than that, can I?'"--_F. R.
+Jelley, Upland Road, Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"Afraid of Yer Own Shells"
+
+I was on the Italian front in June 1918, and our battery was being
+strafed by the Austrians with huge armour-piercing shells, which made
+a noise like an express train coming at you, and exploded with a
+deafening roar.
+
+An O.K. had just registered on one of our guns, blowing the wheels and
+masses of rock sky-high. A party of about twenty Austrian prisoners,
+in charge of a single Cockney, were passing our position at the time,
+and the effect of the explosion on the prisoners was startling. They
+scattered in all directions, vainly pursued by the Cockney, who
+reminded me of a sheep-dog trying to get his flock together.
+
+At last he paused. "You windy lot o' blighters," he shouted as he
+spat on the ground in evident disgust, "afraid of yer own bloomin'
+shells!"--_S. Curtis, 20 Palace Road, Upper Norwood, S.E.19._
+
+
+The Leader of the Blind
+
+In July 1918, at a casualty clearing station occupying temporary
+quarters in the old College of St. Vincent at ruined Senlis we dealt
+with 7,000 wounded in eight days. One night when we were more busy than
+usual an ambulance car brought up a load of gas-blinded men.
+
+A little man whose voice proclaimed the city of his birth--arm broken
+and face blistered with mustard gas, though he alone of the party could
+see--jumped out, looked around, and then whispered in my ear, "All
+serene, guv'nor, leave 'em to me."
+
+He turned towards the car and shouted inside, "Dalston Junction, change
+here for Hackney, Bow, and Poplar."
+
+Then gently helping each man to alight, he placed them in a line with
+right hand on the shoulder of the man in front, took his position
+forward and led them all in, calling softly as he advanced, "Slow
+march, left, left, I had a good job and I _left_ it."--_Henry T. Lowde
+(late 63rd C.C.S., R.A.M.C.), 101 Stanhope Gardens, Harringay, N.4._
+
+
+Pity the Poor Ducks
+
+We were in the Passchendaele sector in 1917, and all who were there
+know there were no trenches--just shell-holes half-filled with water.
+
+Jerry had been strafing us for two days without a stop and of our
+platoon of twenty-three men only seven came out alive. As we were
+coming down the duckboard track after being relieved Jerry started to
+put over a barrage. We had to dive for the best cover we could get.
+
+Three of us jumped into a large shell-hole, up to our necks in water.
+As the shells dropped around us we kept ducking our heads under the
+water.
+
+Bert Norton, one of us--a Cockney--said: "Strike, we're like the little
+ducks in 'Yde Park--keep going under."
+
+After another shell had burst and we had just come up to breathe Bert
+chimed in again with: "Blimey, mustn't it be awful to have to get your
+living by ducking?"--_J. A. Wood, 185 Dalston Lane, E.8._
+
+
+Waiting Room Only
+
+It was in No Man's Land, and a party of New Zealand troops were making
+for shelter in a disabled British tank to avoid the downpour of
+shrapnel. They were about to swarm into the tank when the head of a
+London Tommy popped out of an aperture, and he exclaimed, "Blimey. Hop
+it! This is a waiting room, not a blinkin' bee-hive."--_A. E. Wragg, 1
+Downs Road, Beckenham, Kent._
+
+
+Not Yet Blase
+
+We arrived at the Cambrai front in 1917--just a small bunch of
+Cockneys--and were attached to the Welsh Brigade of Artillery, being
+told to report to B.H.Q. up the sunken road in front of Bapaume.
+
+En route our escort of Welshmen were telling us of the "terrible"
+shelling up the line. It was no leg pulling, for we quickly found out
+for ourselves that it was hot and furious.
+
+Down we all went for cover as best we could, except one Cockney who
+stood as one spellbound watching the bursting of the shells. One of the
+Welshmen yelled out, "Drop down, Cockie!" The Cockney turned round, to
+the wonderment and amusement of the rest, with the retort, "Blimey! Get
+away with yer, you're windy. I've only just come out!"--_Driver W. H.
+Allen (attached 1st Glamorgan R.H.A.), 8 Maiden Crescent, Kentish Town,
+N.W.1._
+
+
+Paid with a Mills
+
+During severe fighting in Delville Wood in August 1916 our regiment
+(the East Surreys) was cut off for about three days and was reduced to
+a mere handful of men, but still we kept up our joking and spirits.
+
+A young Cockney, who was an adept at rhyming slang, rolled over, dead
+as I thought, for blood was streaming from his neck and head. But he
+sat up again and, wiping his hand across his forehead, exclaimed:
+"Strike me pink! One on the top of my loaf of bread (head), and one
+in the bushel and peck (neck)." Then, slinging over a Mills bomb, he
+shouted: "'Ere, Fritz, my thanks for a Blighty ticket."--_A. Dennis, 9
+Somers Road, Brixton Hill, S.W.2._
+
+
+The Guns' Obligato
+
+The day after the Canadians attacked Vimy Ridge my battalion of
+the Royal Fusiliers advanced from Bully Grenay to a chateau on the
+outskirts of Lieven under heavy shell fire.
+
+[Illustration: "Tipperary!"]
+
+At the back of the chateau a street led to the main road to the town.
+There, despite the bombardment, we found a Cockney Tommy of the Buffs
+playing "Tipperary" on a piano which had been blown out of a house into
+the road.
+
+We joined in--until a shell took the top off the chateau, when we
+scattered!--_L. A. Utton, 184 Coteford Street, Tooting, S.W._
+
+
+In the Garden of Eden
+
+We had reached the district in "Mespot" reputed to be the Garden of
+Eden. One evening I was making my way with six men to relieve the guard
+on some ammunition barges lying by the bank of the Tigris.
+
+We had approached to within about one hundred yards of these, when the
+Turks started sending over some "long-rangers." The sixth shell scored
+a direct hit on the centre barge, and within a few seconds the whole
+lot went up in what seemed like the greatest explosion of all time.
+Apart from being knocked over with the shock, we escaped injury, with
+the exception of a Cockney in our company.
+
+Most of his clothing, except his boots, had been stripped from his
+body, and his back was bleeding. Slowly he struggled to his hands and
+knees, and surveying his nakedness, said: "Now where's that blinkin'
+fig tree?"--_F. Dennis, 19 Crewdson Road, Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Santa Claus in a Hurry
+
+A forward observation officer of the Artillery was on duty keeping
+watch on Watling Crater, Vimy Ridge, towards the end of 1916.
+
+The observation post was the remains of a house, very much battered.
+The officer had to crawl up what had once been a large fireplace, where
+he had the protection of the only piece of wall that remained standing.
+
+He was engrossed on his task when the arrival of a "Minnie" shook the
+foundations of the place, and down he came in a shower of bricks and
+mortar with his shrapnel helmet not at the regimental angle.
+
+A couple of Cockney Tommies had also made a dive for the shelter of
+this pile of bricks and were crouching down, when the officer crawled
+from the fireplace. "Quick, Joe," said one of the Cockneys, "'ang
+up yer socks--'ere comes ole Santa Claus!"--_A. J. Robinson (late
+Sergeant, R.F.A.), 21 Clowders Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+What Paderewski was Missing
+
+It was on the night of October 27, 1917, at Passchendaele Ridge. Both
+sides were "letting it go hell for leather," and we were feeling none
+too comfortable crouching in shell-holes and taking what cover we could.
+
+The ground fairly shook--and so did we for that matter--with the heavy
+explosions and the din was ear-splitting.
+
+Just for something to say I called out to the chap in the next
+shell-hole--a Brentford lad he was: "What d'you think of it, Alf?"
+
+"Not much," he said, "I was just finkin' if Paderewski could get only
+this on 'is ol' jo-anner."--_M. Hooker, 325A Md. Qrs., Henlow Camp,
+Bedford._
+
+
+A Target, but No Offers
+
+During the battle of the Somme, in September 1916, our Lewis gun post
+was in a little loop trench jutting out from the front line at a place
+called, I believe, Lone Tree, just before Combles. Jerry's front line
+was not many yards away, and it was a very warm spot.
+
+Several casualties had occurred during the morning through sniping,
+and one enterprising chap had scored a bull's-eye on the top of our
+periscope.
+
+Things quietened down a bit in the afternoon, and about 4 p.m. our
+captain, who already had the M.C., came along and said to our corporal,
+"I believe the Germans have gone."
+
+A Cockney member of our team, overhearing this, said, "Well, it won't
+take long to find out," and jumping upon the fire-step exposed himself
+from the waist upwards above the parapet.
+
+After a minute's breathless silence he turned to the captain and said,
+with a jerk of his thumb, "They've hopped it, sir."
+
+That night we and our French friends entered Combles.--_M. Chittenden
+(late "C" Coy., 1/16th London Regt., Q.W.R.), 26 King Edward Road,
+Waltham Cross, Herts._
+
+
+Their own Lord Mayor's Show
+
+In April 1918 our unit was billeted near Amiens in a small village from
+which the inhabitants had been evacuated two days earlier, owing to the
+German advance.
+
+On the second day of our stay there Jerry was shelling the steeple of
+the village church, and we had taken cover in the cellars under the
+village school. All at once we heard roars of laughter coming from the
+street, and wondering what on earth anyone could find to laugh at, we
+tumbled up to have a look.
+
+The sight that met our eyes was this: Gravely walking down the middle
+of the street were two of the "Hackney Ghurkas," the foremost of whom
+was dressed in a frock coat and top hat, evidently the property of the
+village _maire_, and leading a decorated mule upon the head of which
+was tied the most gaudy "creation" which ever adorned a woman's head.
+
+The second Cockney was clad in the full garb of a twenty-stone French
+peasant woman, hat and all, and was dragging at the end of a chain a
+stuffed fox, minus its glass case, but still fastened to its baseboard.
+
+They solemnly paraded the whole length of the street and back again,
+and were heard to remark that the village was having at least one Lord
+Mayor's Show before Jerry captured it!
+
+And this happened at the darkest time of the war, when our backs were
+to the wall.--_A. C. P. (late 58th London Division), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Pill-Box Crown and Anchor
+
+In the fighting around Westhoek in August 1917 the 56th Division were
+engaged in a series of attacks on the Nonne Boschen Wood, and owing to
+the boggy nature of the ground the position was rather obscure.
+
+A platoon of one of the London battalions was holding a pill-box
+which had been taken from the Germans during the day. In the night a
+counter-attack was made in the immediate vicinity of the pill-box,
+which left some doubt as to whether it had again fallen to the enemy.
+
+A patrol was sent out to investigate. After cautiously approaching the
+position and being challenged in a Cockney tongue, they entered the
+pill-box, and were astonished to see the occupants playing crown and
+anchor.
+
+The isolated and dangerous position was explained to the sergeant in
+charge, but he nonchalantly replied, "Yes, I know all abaht that; but,
+yer see, wot's the use of frightenin' the boys any more? There's been
+enough row rahnd 'ere all night as it is."--_N. Butcher (late 3rd
+Londons), 43 Tankerville Drive, Leigh-on-Sea._
+
+
+"C.O.'s Paid 'is Phone Bill"
+
+On the Somme, during the big push of 1916, we had a section of
+Signallers attached to our regiment to keep the communications during
+the advance. Of the two attached to our company, one was a Cockney.
+He had kept in touch with the "powers that be" without a hitch until
+his wire was cut by a shell. He followed his wire back and made the
+necessary repair. Three times he made the same journey for the same
+reason. His mate was killed by a shrapnel shell and he himself had his
+left arm shattered: but to him only one thing mattered, and that was to
+"keep in touch." So he stuck to his job.
+
+The wire was broken a fourth time, and as he was about to follow it
+back, a runner came up from the C.O. wanting to know why the signaller
+was not in communication. He started back along his wire and as he went
+he said, "Tell 'im to pay 'is last account, an' maybe the telephone
+will be re-connected."
+
+A permanent line was fixed before he allowed the stretcher-bearers
+to take him away. My chum had taken his post at the end of the wire,
+and as the signaller was being carried away he called out feebly,
+"You're in touch with H.Q. C.O.'s paid 'is bill, an' we'll win the war
+yet."--_L. N. Loder, M.C. (late Indian Army), Streatham._
+
+
+The "Garden Party Crasher"
+
+In April 1917 two companies of our battalion were ordered to make a big
+raid opposite the sugar refineries at 14 Bis, near Loos. Two lines of
+enemy trenches had to be taken and the raiding party, when finished,
+were to go back to billets at Mazingarbe while the Durhams took over
+our trenches.
+
+My batman Beedles had instructions to go back to billets with all my
+kit, and wait there for my return. I was in charge of the right half of
+the first wave of the raid, and after a bit of a scrap we got into the
+German front line.
+
+Having completed our job of blowing up concrete emplacements and
+dug-outs, we were waiting for the signal to return to our lines when,
+to my surprise, Beedles came strolling through the German wire. When he
+saw me he called out above the row going on: "I 'opes yer don't mind me
+'aving come to the garden party wivout an invertition, sir?"
+
+The intrepid fellow had taken all my kit back to billets some four
+miles, made the return journey, and come across No Man's Land to find
+me, and see me safely back; an act which might easily have cost him
+his life.--_L. W. Lees (Lieut.), late 11th Batt. Essex Regt., "Meadow
+Croft," Stoke Poges, Bucks._
+
+
+Those Big Wasps
+
+Salonika, 1918, a perfect summer's day. The 2/17th London Regiment are
+marching along a dusty road up to the Doiran Lake. Suddenly, out of the
+blue, three bombing planes appear. The order is given to scatter.
+
+Meanwhile, up comes an anti-aircraft gun, complete with crew on lorry.
+Soon shells are speeding up, and little small puffs of white smoke
+appear as they burst; but the planes are too high for them. A Cockney
+of the regiment puts his hands to his mouth and shouts to the crew:
+"Hi, don't hunch 'em; let 'em settle."--_A. G. Sullings (late 2/17th
+London Regiment), 130 Cann Hall Road, Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Why he Looked for Help
+
+On July 1, 1916, the 56th (London) Division attacked at Hebuterne,
+and during the morning I was engaged (as a lineman) in repairing our
+telephone lines between Battalion and Brigade H.Q. I had just been
+temporarily knocked out by a flat piece of shell and had been attended
+by a stretcher-bearer, who then left me and proceeded on his way back
+to a dressing station I had previously passed, whilst I went farther on
+down the trench to get on with my job.
+
+I had not gone many yards when I met a very young private of the 12th
+Londons (the Rangers). One of his arms was hanging limp and was, I
+should think, broken in two or three places. He was cut and bleeding
+about the face, and was altogether in a sorry plight.
+
+He stopped and asked me, "Is there a dressing station down there,
+mate?" pointing along the way I had come, and I replied, "Yes, keep
+straight on down the trench. It's a good way down. But," I added,
+"there's a stretcher-bearer only just gone along. Shall I see if I can
+get him for you?"
+
+His reply I shall never forget: "Oh, I don't want him for _me_. I want
+someone to come back with me to get my mate. _He's hurt!_"--_Wm. R.
+Smith, 231 Halley Road, Manor Park, E.12._
+
+
+The Winkle Shell
+
+Above the entrance to a certain dug-out somewhere in Flanders some wit
+had fixed a board upon which was roughly painted, "The Winkle Shell."
+
+The ebb and tide of battle left the dug-out in German hands, but one
+day during an advance the British infantry recaptured the trench in
+which "The Winkle Shell" was situated.
+
+Along the trench came a Cockney with his rifle ready and his bayonet
+fixed. Hearing voices coming from the dug-out he halted, looked
+reflectively at the notice-board, and then cautiously poking his
+bayonet into the dug-out called out, "Nah, then, come on aht of it
+afore I gits me blinkin' 'pin' busy."--_Sidney A. Wood (late C/275
+Battery, R.F.A.), 32 Lucas Avenue, Upton Park, E.13._
+
+
+Forgot his Dancing Pumps
+
+We were in a trench in front of Carnoy on the Somme when the Germans
+made a raid on us. It was all over in a few minutes, and we were minus
+eight men--taken away by the raiders.
+
+Shortly afterwards I was standing in a bay feeling rather shaky when
+a face suddenly appeared over the top. I challenged, and was answered
+with these words:
+
+"It's orl right. It's me. They was a-takin' us to a dance over there,
+but I abaht-turned 'arfway acrorst an' crawled back fer me pumps."--_E.
+Smith (late Middlesex Regt.), 2 Barrack Road, Aldershot._
+
+
+Lift Out of Order
+
+One day in 1916 I was sitting with some pals in a German dug-out
+in High Wood. Like others of its kind, it had a steep, deep shaft.
+Suddenly a shell burst right in the mouth of the shaft above, and the
+next instant "Nobby," a Cockney stretcher-bearer, landed plump on his
+back in our midst. He was livid and bleeding, but his first words were:
+"Strike! I thought the lift were outer order!"--_J. E., Vauxhall,
+S.W.8._
+
+
+Lost: A Fly Whisk
+
+During the very hot summer of 1916 in Egypt it was necessary, while
+eating, to keep on flicking one hand to keep the flies away from one's
+mouth.
+
+One day a heavy shell came over and knocked down my Cockney chum, Tubby
+White. He got up, holding his wrist, and started looking round.
+
+I said: "What have you lost, Tubby?"
+
+"Blimey," he said, "can't you see I've lost me blooming fly whisk?" It
+was then I noticed he had lost his hand.--_J. T. Marshall (Middlesex
+Regiment), 17 Evandale Road, Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+Change at Wapping
+
+When Regina Trench was taken in 1916 it was in a terrible state, being
+half full of thick liquid mud. Some of the fellows, sooner than wade
+through this, were getting up and walking along the top, although in
+view of the Germans.
+
+The Cockney signaller who was with me at the time, after slithering
+along the trench for a time, said: "I've 'ad enough er this," and
+scrambled out of the trench.
+
+He had no sooner got on top when--_zipp_--and down he came with a
+bullet through his thigh.
+
+While bandaging his wound I said: "We're going to have a job to get you
+out of here, but we'll have a good try."
+
+"That's all right," said the Cockney, "you carry on an' leave me. I'll
+wait for a blinkin' barge and change at Wapping."--_H. Redford (late
+R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham._
+
+
+"The Canary's Flowed Away!"
+
+I was in charge of a party carrying material from the dump to the
+Engineers in the front line. One of the party, a man from Camberwell,
+was allotted a bulky roll of barbed wire.
+
+After a desperate struggle through the muddy and narrow support
+trenches, we reached the front line. There was still another 400 yards
+to go, and our Cockney decided to continue the journey along the
+parapet.
+
+He had not gone far before the German machine guns began to spit and he
+fell in a heap into the bottom of the trench with the coil of barbed
+wire on top of him.
+
+Thinking he was wounded, I went back to him and inquired if he was hit.
+
+"'It? 'It be blowed," he said, "but if somebody was to take this
+blinkin' birdcage orf me chest I might be able to get up."
+
+The journey was completed through the trench, our friend being a sorry
+sight of mud and cut fingers and face.
+
+On arriving at our destination he dropped the wire at the feet of
+the waiting corporal with the remark, "'Ere you are, mate; sorry the
+canary's flowed away."--_A. S. G. (47th Division), Kent._
+
+
+"Go it, Applegarf! I'll time yer!"
+
+Our battalion was making a counter-attack at Albert on March 29, 1918,
+against a veritable hail of lead. Wounded in the thigh, I tumbled into
+a huge shell hole, already occupied by two officers of the Fusiliers
+(Fusiliers had been on our left), a lance-corporal of my own battalion,
+and three other men (badly wounded).
+
+Whilst I was being dressed by the lance-corporal another man jumped in.
+He had a bullet in the chest. It didn't need an M.O. to see that he was
+"all in," and he knew it.
+
+He proved to be the most heroic Cockney I have ever seen. He had only
+minutes to live, and he told us not to waste valuable bandages on him.
+
+Thereupon one of the officers advised me to try to crawl back before my
+leg got stiff, as I would stand a poor chance of a stretcher later with
+so many badly-wounded men about. If I got back safe I was to direct
+stretcher-bearers to the shell hole.
+
+I told the officer that our battalion stretcher-bearers were behind
+a ridge only about 100 yards in the rear, and as my wound had not
+troubled me yet I would make a sprint for it, as the firing was still
+too heavy to be healthy.
+
+On hearing my remarks this heroic Cockney, who must also have been a
+thorough sportsman, grinned up at me and, with death written on his
+face, panted: "Go it, Applegarf, an' I'll time yer." [Applegarth was
+the professional sprint champion of the world.] The Cockney was dead
+when I left the shell hole.--_F. W. Brown (late 7th Suffolks), 247
+Balls Pond Road, Dalston, N._
+
+
+That Other Sort of Rain
+
+We were out doing a spot of wiring near Ypres, and the Germans
+evidently got to know about it. A few "stars" went up, and then the
+_rat-tat-tat_ of machine guns told us more than we wanted to know.
+
+We dived for shell holes. Anybody who knows the place will realise
+we did not have far to dive. I found myself beside a man who, in the
+middle of a somewhat unhealthy period, found time to soliloquise:
+
+"Knocked a bit right aht me tin 'at. Thought I'd copped it that time.
+Look, I can get me little finger through the 'ole. Blimey, 'ope it
+don't rain, I shall git me 'ead all wet."--_H. C. Augustus, 67 Paragon
+Road, E.9._
+
+[Illustration: "'Ope it don't rain; I'd get me 'ead wet."]
+
+
+Better Job for Him
+
+I was at Vimy Ridge in 1916. On the night I am writing about we were
+taking a well-earned few minutes' rest during a temporary lull. We were
+under one of the roughly-built shelters erected against the Ridge, and
+our only light was the quivering glimmer from a couple of candles. A
+shell screeched overhead and "busted" rather near to us--and out went
+the candles.
+
+"Smith, light up those candles," cried the sergeant-major to his
+batman. "Smithy," who stuttered, was rather shaken and took some time
+to strike a match and hold it steadily to the candles. But no sooner
+were the candles alight than another "whopper" put them out again.
+
+"Light up those ruddy candles!" cried the S.M. again, "and don't dawdle
+about it!"
+
+"Smithy," muttering terrible things to himself, was fumbling for the
+matches when the order came that a bombing party was required to clear
+"Jerry" out of a deep shell-hole.
+
+"'Ere!" said "Smithy" in his rich Cockney voice. "J-just m-my m-mark.
+I'd r-rather f-frow 'eggs' t-than light c-c-candles!"--_W. C. Roberts,
+5 Crampton Street, S.E.17._
+
+
+Sentry's Sudden Relief
+
+I was the next turn on guard at a battery position in Armentieres one
+evening in the summer of 1917. A Cockney chum, whom I was going to
+relieve, was patrolling the position when suddenly over came a 5.9,
+which blew him about four yards away.
+
+As he scrambled to his feet our sergeant of the guard came along,
+and my chum's first words were, "Sorry, sergeant, for deserting me
+post."--_T. F. Smithers (late R.F.A.), 14 Hilda Road, Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+The World Kept Turnin'
+
+The Poperinghe-Ypres road. A large shell had just pitched. Among the
+wounded was a Cockney who was noted for his rendering on every possible
+occasion of that well-known song, "Let the Great Big World Keep
+Turning."
+
+He was lying on the roadway severely hurt. Another Cockney went up to
+him and said "'Ello, matey, 'urt? Why ain't yer singin' 'Let the Great
+Big World Keep Turnin',' eh?"
+
+The reply came: "I _was_ a singin' on it, Bill, but I never thought it
+would fly up and 'it me."--_Albert M. Morsley (late 85th Siege Battery
+Am. Col.), 198 Kempton Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+That Blinkin' "Money-box"
+
+I was limping back with a wounded knee after the taking of
+Monchy-le-Preux on April 11, 1917, when a perky little Cockney of
+the 13th Royal Fusiliers who had a bandaged head caught me up with a
+cheery, "Tike me Chalk Farm (arm), old dear, and we'll soon be 'ome."
+
+I was glad to accept his kindly offer, but our journey, to say the
+least, was a hazardous one, for the German guns, firing with open
+sights from the ridge in front of the Bois du Sart, were putting
+diagonal barrages across the road (down which, incidentally, the
+Dragoon Guards were coming magnificently out of action, with saddles
+emptying here and there as they swept through that deadly zone on that
+bleak afternoon).
+
+Presently we took refuge in a sandbag shelter on the side of the road,
+and were just congratulating ourselves on the snugness of our retreat,
+when a tank stopped outside. Its arrival brought fresh gun-fire on us,
+and before long a whizz-bang made a direct hit on our shelter.
+
+When we recovered from the shock, we found part of our roof missing,
+and my little pal, poking his bandaged head through the hole, thus
+addressed one of the crew of the tank who was just visible through a
+gun slit:
+
+"Oi, why don't yer tike yer money-box 'ome? This ain't a pull-up fer
+carmen!"
+
+The spirit that little Cockney imbued into me that day indirectly
+saved me the loss of a limb, for without him I do not think I would
+have reached the advance dressing station in time.--_D. Stuart (late
+Sergeant, 10th R.F., 37th Division) 103 St. Asaph Road, Brockley,
+S.E.4._
+
+
+"Oo, You Naughty Boy!"
+
+In front of Kut Al-'Amarah, April 1916, the third and last attack
+on the Sannaiyat position, on the day before General Townshend
+capitulated. Days of rain had rendered the ground a quagmire, and lack
+of rations, ammunition, and shelter had disheartened the relief force.
+
+The infantry advanced without adequate artillery support, and were
+swept by heavy machine-gun fire from the entrenched Turks. One fellow
+tripped over a strand of loose barbed wire, fell down, and in rising
+ripped the seat nearly off his shorts. Cursing, he rejoined the slowly
+moving line of advancing men.
+
+Suddenly one sensed one of those fateful moments when men in the mass
+are near to breaking point. Stealthy looks to right and left were
+given, and fear was in the men's hearts. The relentless tat-tat-tat of
+machine guns, the "singing" of the driven bullets, and the dropping of
+men seemed as if it never would end.
+
+A Cockney voice broke the fear-spell and restored manhood to men. "Oo,
+'Erbert, you naughty boy!" it said. "Look at what you've done to yer
+nice trahsers! 'Quarter' won't 'arf be cross. He said we wasn't to play
+rough games and tear our trahsers."--_L. W. Whiting (late 7th Meerut
+Division), 21 Dale Park Avenue, Carshalton, Surrey._
+
+
+Cool as a Cucumber
+
+Early in 1917 at Ypres I was in charge of part of the advance party
+taking over some trenches from another London battalion. After this
+task had been completed I was told of a funny incident of the previous
+night.
+
+It appeared that the battalion we were due to relieve had been
+surprised by a small party of the enemy seeking "information." During
+the melee in the trench a German "under-officer" had calmly walked over
+and picked up a Lewis gun which had been placed on a tripod on top
+of the trench some little distance from its usual emplacement. (This
+was done frequently when firing at night was necessary so as to avoid
+betraying the regular gun position.)
+
+A boyish-looking sentry of the battalion on the left jumped out of the
+trench and went after the Jerry who was on his way "home" with the
+gun in his arms. Placing his bayonet in dangerous proximity to the
+"under-officer's" back, the young Cockney exclaimed, "Hi! Where the
+'ell are yer goin' wiv that gun? Just you put the 'coocumber' back on
+the 'barrer' and shove yer blinkin' 'ands up!"
+
+The "under-officer" lost his prize and his liberty, and I understand
+the young sentry received the M.M.--_R. McMuldroch (late 15th London
+Regt., Civil Service Rifles), 13 Meadway, Bush Hill Park, Enfield._
+
+
+The Sergeant's Tears
+
+One afternoon on the Somme our battery received a severe strafe from
+5.9's and tear-gas shells. There was no particular "stunt" on, so we
+took cover in a trench behind the guns.
+
+When the strafe had finished, we found our gun resting on one wheel,
+with sights and shield smashed by a direct hit. There was tear gas
+hanging about, too, and we all felt anything but cheerful.
+
+Myself and detachment were solemnly standing around looking at the
+smashed gun, and as I was wiping tears from my eyes, Smithy, our bright
+Walworth lad, said: "Don't cry, Sarg'nt, they're bahnd ter give us
+anuvver."--_E. Rutson (late Sergeant, R.F.A., 47th London Division),
+43a Wardo Avenue, S.W.6._
+
+
+"But yer carn't 'elp Laughin'"
+
+There were a bunch of us Cockneys in our platoon, and we had just
+taken over some supports. It being a quiet sector, we were mooning and
+scrounging around, some on the parapet, some in the trenches, and some
+at the rear.
+
+All at once a shower of whizz-bangs and gas shells came over; our
+platoon "sub." started yelling "Gas." We dived for the dug-outs.
+
+Eight of us tried to scramble through a narrow opening at once, and we
+landed in a wriggling mass on the floor. Some were kneeling and some
+were sitting, all with serious faces, until one fellow said: "Phew,
+it's 'ell of a war, but yer carn't 'elp laughin', can yer?"--_B. J.
+Berry (late 9th Norfolk Regt.), 11 Rosemont Avenue, N. Finchley, N.12._
+
+
+"Only an Orphan"
+
+He came to the battalion about three weeks before going overseas, and
+fell straight into trouble. But his Cockney wit got him out of trouble
+as well as into it.
+
+He never received a parcel or letter, but still was always the life of
+our company. He never seemed to have a care.
+
+We had been in France about a fortnight when we were ordered to the
+front line and over the top. He was one of the first over, shouting
+"Where's the blighters." They brought him in riddled with bullets.
+
+When I asked if I could do anything for him, he said: "Are there many
+hurt?" "Not many," I replied. "Thank Heaven for that," he replied.
+"Nobody 'll worry over me. I'm only a blinkin' orphan."--_W. Blundell
+(late N.C.O., 2nd East Surreys), Cranworth Gardens, S.W.9._
+
+
+Joking at the Last
+
+It was after the attack by the 2nd Londons on the village of Aubigny au
+Bac. I was hit by shell splinters, and whilst I was looking for someone
+to dress my wounds I came across one of the lads lying by the roadside
+mortally wounded.
+
+As I bent over him to give him a drink he noticed my blood-streaked
+face and gasped: "Crikey! Your barber was blinkin' clumsy this
+morning." So passed a gallant 2nd London man.--_E. C. Easts (M.M.),
+Eliot Place, Blackheath, S.E.3._
+
+
+Everybody's War
+
+During the general advance on the Somme in August 1918 our platoon
+became isolated from the rest of the company.
+
+We had been under heavy shell-fire for about three hours, and when at
+last things seemed to have quietened down, a German plane came over. We
+immediately jumped for cover and were concealed from view.
+
+The plane had only circled round a couple of times when a Cockney
+private, unable to resist the temptation any longer, jumped up and had
+a pot at it.
+
+He had fired three rounds when the N.C.O. pulled him down and called
+him a fool for giving away our position.
+
+The Cockney turned round and replied, "Blimey, ain't I in this blinkin'
+war as well as 'im?"--_E. Purcell (late 9th Royal Fusiliers), 4
+Lyndhurst Grove, Peckham, S.E.15._
+
+
+Orders is Orders
+
+When I was with the 6th Dorsets at Hooge, a party of us under a Cockney
+lance-jack were sent down the Menin Road to draw rations. It seemed as
+though the Germans knew we were waiting at the corner, for they were
+dropping shells all around us.
+
+After a while a voice in the darkness cried: "Don't stay there, you
+chaps; that's Hell Fire Corner!"
+
+"Can't 'elp it, guv'nor," replied our lance-jack. "'Ell Fire Corner or
+'Eaven's Delight, we gotta stop 'ere till our rations comes up."--_H.
+W. Butler (late 6th Dorsets), 2 Flint Cottages, Stone, Kent._
+
+
+Leaving the Picture
+
+As we were going "over" at Passchendaele a big one dropped just behind
+our company runner and myself. Our runner gave a shout and stumbling on
+a little way, with his hand on his side, said: "Every picture tells a
+story"--and went down.
+
+I just stopped to look at him, and I am sorry to say his war had
+finished. He came from Bow.--_G. Hayward (late Rifle Brigade), Montague
+Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+Ginger's Gun Stopped
+
+I was in a Lewis gun section, and our sergeant got on our nerves while
+we were learning the gun by always drumming in our ears about the
+different stoppages of the gun when in action. My mate, Ginger Bryant,
+who lived at Stepney, could never remember the stops, and our sergeant
+was always rousing poor old Ginger.
+
+Well, we found ourselves one day in the front line and Jerry had
+started an attack. Ginger was No. 1 on the gun and I was lying beside
+him as No. 2. We were giving Jerry beans with our gun when a bomb hit
+it direct and blew Ginger and myself yards away.
+
+Ginger had his hand blown off, but crawled back to the gun, which was
+smashed to pieces. He gave one look at it and shouted to me: "Nah go
+and ask that blinkin' sergeant what number stoppage he calls this one!"
+Next thing he fainted.--_Edward Newson (late 1st West Surrey), 61
+Moneyer Street, Hoxton, N.1._
+
+
+A Careless Fellow
+
+An officer with our lot was a regular dare-devil. He always boasted
+that the German bullet had not yet been made which could find him.
+
+One day, regardless of his own safety, he was on the parapet, and
+though many shots came over he seemed to bear a charmed life.
+
+One of the men happened to put his head just out of the trench when a
+bullet immediately struck his "tin hat" sending him backwards into the
+trench.
+
+The officer, from the parapet, looked down and said, "You _are_ a
+fool, I told you not to show yourself."--_A. Smith (Cameronians), 40
+Whitechapel Road, E.1._
+
+
+Standing Up to the Turk
+
+In the second attempt to capture Gaza we were making our advance in
+face of heavy machine-gun fire. In covering the ground we crouched
+as much as possible, the Turks directed their fire accordingly, and
+casualties were numerous, so our Cockney humorist shouted: "Stand up,
+boys. It's best to be hit in yer props (legs) than in yer blinkin'
+office (head)."--_W. Reed (late 7th Battn., Essex Regiment), 3
+Shenfield Road, Woodford Green, Essex._
+
+
+Lodging with the Bombs
+
+I was driving a lorry along the road from Dickebusch to Ypres when the
+Germans started shelling with shrapnel and high explosive.
+
+By the side of the road was a cottage, partly ruined, with the
+window-space boarded up: and, with some idea of seeking protection from
+the flying fragments, I leaned up against one of the walls.
+
+I hadn't been there long when a face appeared at a gap in the boards,
+and a voice said: "Do yer fink y're safe there, mate, cos we're chock
+full o' bombs in 'ere."--_Edward Tracey, c/o Cowley Cottage, Cowley,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+In Fine Feather
+
+While on the Somme in 1916 my battery was sent to rest in a village
+behind the line. The billet allotted to us had been an hotel, and all
+the furniture, including bedsteads and feather mattresses, had been
+stored in the room which did duty as an orderly room.
+
+Returning one day from exercise, we saw a flight of enemy 'planes
+coming over, and as we approached the billet a bomb was dropped
+straight through the roof of our building, the sole occupant of which
+at the time was a Cockney signaller on duty, in touch with Brigade
+Headquarters.
+
+[Illustration: "They must 'ave 'it a blinkin' sparrer."]
+
+We hurried forward, expecting to find that our signaller had been
+killed. The orderly room was a scene of indescribable chaos. Papers
+were everywhere. Files and returns were mixed up with "iron rations,"
+while in a corner of the room was a pile of feathers about 4 feet
+deep--all that remained of the feather mattresses. Of our signaller
+there was no sign.
+
+As we looked around, however, his head appeared from beneath the
+feather pile. His face was streaming with blood, and he looked more
+dead than alive, but as he surveyed his temporary resting-place, a grin
+spread over his features, and he picked up a handful of feathers.
+
+"Blimey!" he observed, "they must 'ave 'it a blinkin'
+sparrer."--_"Gunner," Oxford Street, W.1._
+
+
+All the Fun of the Fair
+
+At Neuve Eglise, March 1918, we were suddenly attacked by Jerry, but
+drove him back. Every now and again we spotted Germans dodging across a
+gap in a hedge. At once a competition started as to who could catch a
+German with a bullet as he ran across the gap.
+
+"Reminds me of shooting at the bottles and fings at the fair," said my
+pal, another Cockney Highlander.
+
+A second later a piece of shrapnel caught him in the hand. "Blimey, I
+always said broken glass was dangerous," he remarked as he gazed sadly
+at the wound.--_F. Adams (late H.L.I.), 64 Homestead Road, Becontree,
+Essex._
+
+
+Teacup in a Storm
+
+We were in support trenches near Havrincourt Wood in September 1917. At
+mid-day it was exceptionally quiet there as a rule.
+
+Titch, our little Cockney cook, proceeded one day to make us some tea
+by the aid of four candles in a funk-hole. To aid this fire he added
+the usual bit of oily "waste," and thereby caused a thin trail of smoke
+to rise. The water was just on the boil when Jerry spotted our smoke
+and let fly in its direction everything he had handy.
+
+Our trench was battered flat.... We threw ourselves into a couple of
+old communication trenches. Looking around presently for our cook
+we found him sitting beneath a waterproof sheet calmly enjoying his
+sergeant-major's tea. "Ain't none of you blokes firsty?" was his
+greeting.--_R. J. Richards (late 61st Trench Mortar Battery, 20th
+London Division), 15 London Street, W.2._
+
+
+Jack's Unwelcome Present
+
+Our company were holding the line, or what _was_ a line of trenches a
+short time before, when Jerry opened out with all kinds of loudspeakers
+and musical instruments that go to make war real.
+
+We were knocked about and nearly blinded with smoke and flying
+sandbags. The best we could do was to grope our way about with arms
+outstretched to feel just where we were.
+
+Eventually someone clutched me, saying, "Is that you, Charlie--are you
+all right?"
+
+"Yes, Jack," I answer, "are you all right?"
+
+"Well, I don't know fer sure," he says as he dives his hand through
+his tunic to his chest and holds on to me with the other. I had a soft
+place in my heart for Jack, for nobody ever sent him a parcel, so what
+was mine was Jack's. But not the piece of shrapnel that came out when
+he withdrew his hand from inside his tunic!
+
+"The only thing that ever I had sent me--and that from Jerry!" says
+Jack. "We was always taught to love our enemies!"
+
+They sure loved us, for shortly after I received my little gift of
+love, which put me to by-by for several months. But that Cockney lad
+from East London never grumbled at his hard lot. He looked at me,
+his corporal, and no wonder he clung round my neck, for he has told
+me since the war that he was only sixteen then. A brave lad!--_D. C.
+Maskell (late 20th Battn. Middlesex Regt.), 25 Lindley Road, Leyton,
+E.10_.
+
+
+Goalie Lets One Through
+
+In September 1916 we landed in a portion of German trench and I was
+given orders to hang on. Shells were bursting all around us, so we
+decided to have a smoke.
+
+My two Cockney pals--Nobby and Harry, who were a goalie and
+centre-forward respectively--were noted for their zeal in keeping us
+alive.
+
+Nobby was eager to see what was going on over the top, so he had a
+peep--and for his pains got shot through the ear. He fell back in a
+heap and exclaimed, "Well saved, goalie! Couldn't been better if I'd
+tried."
+
+"Garn," said Harry, bending over him, "it's blinkin' well gorn right
+frew, mate."--_Patrick Beckwith, 5 Duke Road, Chiswick, W.4._
+
+
+A Good Samaritan Foiled
+
+I was rather badly wounded near Bullecourt, on the Arras front, and was
+lying on a stretcher outside the dressing station.
+
+Nearby stood a burly Cockney with one arm heavily bandaged. In the
+other hand he held his ration of hot coffee.
+
+Noticing my distress, he offered me his drink, saying, "'Ere y'are,
+mate, 'ave a swig at this." One of the stretcher-bearers cried: "Take
+that away! He mustn't have it!"
+
+The Cockney slunk off.
+
+"All right, ugly," he said. "Take the food aht of a poor bloke's mouf,
+would yer?"
+
+Afterwards I learned the stretcher-bearer, by his action, had saved my
+life. Still, I shan't forget my Cockney friend's generosity.--_A. P. S.
+(late 5th London Regiment), Ilford._
+
+
+Proof of Marksmanship
+
+Poperinghe: a pitch-black night. We were resting when a party of the
+West Indian Labour Company came marching past. Jerry sent one over.
+Luckily, only one of the party was hit.
+
+A voice from the darkness: "Alf! keep low, mate. Jerry 'as got his eye
+in--'e's 'it a nigger in the dark!"--_C. Jakeman (late 4/4th City of
+London Royal Fusiliers), 5 Hembridge Place, St. John's Wood, N.W.8._
+
+
+"Well, He Ain't Done In, See!"
+
+During the great German offensive in March 1918 our company was trying
+to hold the enemy at Albert. My platoon was in an old trench in front
+of Albert station, and was in rather a tight corner, the casualties
+being pretty heavy. A runner managed to get through to us with a
+message. He asked our sergeant to send a man to another platoon with
+the message.
+
+One of my pals, named Gordon, shouted, "Give it to me; I'll go."
+
+He crept out of the trench and up a steep incline and over the other
+side, and was apparently being peppered by machine-gun fire all the
+way. We had little hope of him ever getting there. About a couple of
+hours later another Cockney cried: "Blimey! He's coming back!"
+
+We could see him now, crawling towards us. He got within a dozen yards
+of our trench, and then a Jerry "coal-box" arrived. It knocked us into
+the mud at the bottom of our trench and seemed to blow Gordon, together
+with a ton or so of earth, twenty feet in the air, and he came down in
+the trench.
+
+"That's done the poor blighter in," said the other Cockney as we rushed
+to him. To our surprise Gordon spoke:
+
+"Well, he ain't done in--see!"
+
+He had got the message to the other platoon, and was little the worse
+for his experience of being blown skyward. I think that brave fellow's
+deed was one of many that had to go unrewarded.--_H. Nachbaur (late 7th
+Suffolks), 4 Burnham Road, St. Albans, Herts._
+
+
+"Baby's Fell Aht er Bed!"
+
+The day before our division (38th Welch) captured Mametz Wood on the
+Somme, in July 1916, our platoon occupied a recently captured German
+trench. We were examining in a very deep dug-out some of Jerry's
+black bread when a heavy shell landed almost at the entrance with a
+tremendous crash. Earth, filled sandbags, etc., came thundering down
+the steps, and my thoughts were of being buried alive about forty feet
+underground. But amid all the din, Sam (from Walworth) amused us with
+his cry: "Muvver! Baby's fell aht er bed!"--_P. Carter (late 1st London
+Welch), 6 Amhurst Terrace, Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Stamp Edging Wanted
+
+During severe fighting in Cambrai in 1917 we were taking up position
+in the front line when suddenly over came a "present" from Jerry,
+scattering our men in all directions and causing a few casualties.
+
+Among the unfortunate ones was a Cockney whose right hand was
+completely blown off.
+
+In a sitting position he calmly turned to the private next to him and
+exclaimed "Blimey, they've blown me blinkin' German band (hand) off.
+Got a bit of stamp edging, mate?"--_T. Evans, 24 Russell Road, Wood End
+Green, Northolt, Greenford._
+
+
+"Oo's 'It--You or Me?"
+
+It was our fifth day in the front line in a sector of the Arras front.
+In the afternoon, after a terrible barrage, Jerry came over the top on
+our left, leaving our immediate front severely alone.
+
+Our platoon Lewis gun was manned at that time by "Cooty," a Cockney, he
+being "Number One" on the gun. We were blazing away at the advancing
+tide when a shell exploded close to the gun.
+
+"Cooty" was seen to go rigid for a moment, and then he quickly rolled
+to one side to make way for "Number Two" to take his place. He took
+"Number Two's" position beside the gun.
+
+The new "Number One" saw that "Cooty" had lost three fingers, and told
+him to retire. "Cooty" would not have that, but calmly began to refill
+an empty magazine. "Number One" again requested him to leave, and a
+sharp tiff occurred between them.
+
+"Cooty" was heard to say, "Look 'ere, oo's _'it_--you or me?" "You
+are," said "Number One."
+
+"Then mind your own blinkin' business," said "Cooty," "and get on with
+shelling these peas."
+
+Poor "Cooty," who had lost his left foot as well, passed out shortly
+after, was a Guardsman at one time.--_D. S. T., Kilburn, N.W._
+
+
+The Stocking Bomb
+
+We were a desert mobile column, half-way across the Sinai Peninsula
+from Kantara to Gaza. Turkish aeroplanes paid us a daily visit and
+pelted us with home-made "stocking-bombs" (old socks filled with nails,
+old iron, and explosives).
+
+On this particular day we were being bombed and a direct hit on one
+gunner's shoulder knocked him to the ground, but failed to explode.
+
+Sitting up in pain he blinked at the stocking-bomb and then at the
+plane and shouted: "Nah chuck us yer blinkin' boots dahn!" He then
+fainted and we helped him, but could not resist a broad smile.--_A.
+Crose, 77 Caistor Park Road, West Ham, E.15._
+
+
+Not an Acrobat
+
+In a communication trench on the Somme, near Guillemont, in August
+1916, we were halted for a "blow" on our way up when Jerry opened with
+shrapnel.
+
+Private Reynolds, from Marylebone, had his right hand cut off at the
+wrist. We bound his arm as best we could, and whilst doing so one man
+said to him, "A sure Blighty one, mate--and don't forget when you get
+home, drop us a line to let's know how you are getting on in hospital."
+
+"Yus! I'll write all right," said Reynolds, and then, suddenly, "'Ere,
+wot d'yer fink I am, a blinkin' acrobat? 'Ow can I write wivout a right
+arm ter write wiv?"--_A. Sharman (late 12th Royal Fusiliers), 177
+Grenville Road, N.W.2._
+
+
+Story Without an Ending
+
+Our gun position lay just behind the Ancre, and Fritz generally strafed
+us for an hour or two each day, starting about the same time. When the
+first shell came over we used to take cover in a disused trench.
+
+One day, when the strafe began, I grabbed two story magazines just
+before we went to the trench, and, arrived there, handed one to my
+Cockney pal.
+
+We had both been reading for some time when a shell burst uncomfortably
+near, and a splinter hit my pal's book and shot it right out of his
+hand. At which he exclaimed: "Fritz, yer blighter, I'll never know nah
+whether he was goin' to marry the girl or cut 'er bloomin' froat."--_G.
+W. Wicheloe (late 138th Heavy Battery, R.G.A.), 162 Stevens Road,
+Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+Cause and Effect
+
+A 5.9 had burst on the parados of our trench, and caused--as 5.9's
+usually did--a bit of a mess.
+
+A brand-new officer came around the trench, saw the damage, and asked:
+"Whatever caused this mess?"
+
+Without the slightest suspicion of a smile a Cockney private answered:
+"An explosive bullet, sir!"--_C. T. Coates, 46 Hillingdon Street,
+London, S.E.17._
+
+[Illustration: "... an explosive bullet, sir!"]
+
+
+The Cockney and the Cop
+
+During the final push near Cambrai Jerry had just been driven from a
+very elaborate observation post--a steel-constructed tower. Of course,
+we soon occupied it to enable us to see Jerry's hasty retreat.
+
+No sooner had we got settled when, crash, Jerry had a battery of
+pipsqueaks trained on us, firing gas shells. A direct hit brought the
+building down.
+
+By the time we had sorted ourselves out our eyes began to grow dim,
+and soon we were temporarily blind. So we took each other's hands, an
+ex-policeman leading.
+
+After a few moments a Cockney friend chimed out, "Say, Cop, do you
+think you can find the lock-up now, or had you better blow your
+whistle?"--_H. Rainford (late R.F.A.), 219 The Grove, Hammersmith,
+W.6._
+
+
+In the Drorin' Room
+
+It was on "W" Beach, Gallipoli, some months after the historic landing.
+It was fairly safe to picnic here, but for the attentions of "Beachy
+Bill," a big Turkish gun. I was with six other R.F.A. details in a
+dug-out which was labelled, or rather libelled, "The Ritz."
+
+"Smiler" Smith gave it that name, and always referred to this verminous
+hovel in terms of respect. Chalked notices such as "Wait for the Lift,"
+"Card Room," "Buffet," were his work.
+
+A dull thud in the distance--the familiar scream--and _plomp_ came one
+from "Bill," a few yards from the Ritz. Only "Smiler" was really hurt.
+He received a piece of shell on his arm. As they carried him away, he
+called faintly for his tobacco tin.
+
+"Where did you leave it, 'Smiler'?"
+
+"In the drorin' room on the grand pianner," said "Smiler"
+faintly.--_Gunner W. (late 29th Division, R.F.A.)._
+
+
+Getting His Goat
+
+Sandy was one of those whom nature seemed to have intended for a girl.
+Sandy by colour, pale and small of features, and without the sparkling
+wit of his Cockney comrades, he was the butt of many a joke.
+
+One dark and dirty night we trailed out of the line at Vermelles and
+were billeted in a barn. The farmhouse still sheltered its owner and
+the remainder of his live-stock, including a goat in a small shed.
+
+"Happy" Day, having discovered the goat, called out, "Hi, Sandy!
+There's some Maconochie rations in that 'ere shed. Fetch 'em in, mate."
+
+Off went Sandy, to return hastily with a face whiter than usual, and
+saying in his high treble: "'Appy, I can't fetch them. There's two
+awful eyes in that shed."
+
+Subsequently Jerry practically obliterated the farm, and when we
+returned to the line "Happy" Day appropriated the goat as a mascot.
+
+We had only been in the line a few hours when we had the worst
+bombardment I remember. Sandy and the goat seemed kindred spirits in
+their misery and terror.
+
+"Happy" had joined the great majority. The goat, having wearied of
+trench life and army service, had gone over the top on his own account.
+The next thing we knew was that Sandy was "over" after him, shells
+dropping around them. Then the goat and "Sandy Greatheart" disappeared
+behind a cloud of black and yellow smoke.--_S. G. Bushell (late Royal
+Berks), 21 Moore Buildings, Gilbert Street, W._
+
+
+Jennie the Flier
+
+It was my job for about two months, somewhere in the summer of 1917, to
+take Jennie the mule up to the trenches twice a day with rations, or
+shells, for the 35th Trench Mortar Battery, to which I was attached. We
+had to cover about 5 kilos. from the Q.M. stores at Rouville, Arras,
+to the line. When Jerry put a few over our way it was a job to get
+Jennie forward.
+
+One night we arrived with a full load, and the officer warned me to get
+unloaded quick as there was to be a big bombardment. No sooner had I
+finished than over came the first shell--and away went Jennie, bowling
+over two or three gunners.
+
+Someone caught her and I mounted for the return journey. Then the
+bombardment began in earnest.
+
+You ought to have seen her go! Talk about a racehorse! I kept saying,
+"Gee up, Jennie, old girl, don't get the wind up, we shall soon get
+back to Rouville!"
+
+I looked round and could see the flashes of the guns. That was the way
+to make Jennie go. She never thought of stopping till we got home.--_W.
+Holmes (9th Essex Regiment), 72 Fleet Road, Hampstead, N.W._
+
+
+A Mission Fulfilled
+
+On August 28, 1916, we were told to take over a series of food dumps
+which had been formed in the front and support lines at Hamel, on the
+Ancre, before a general attack came off.
+
+On the following night Corporal W----, a true and gallant Cockney
+who was in charge of a party going back to fetch rations, came to my
+dug-out to know if there were anything special I wished him to bring.
+
+I asked him to bring me a tin of cigarettes. On the return journey,
+as the party was crossing a road which cut through one of the
+communicating trenches, a shell struck the road, killing two privates
+and fatally wounding Corporal W----.
+
+Without a word the corporal put his hand into his pocket and, producing
+a tin, held it out to an uninjured member of the party.
+
+I got my smokes.--_L. J. Morgan (late Capt., The Royal Sussex
+Regiment), 1 Nevern Square, S.W.5._
+
+
+He Saved the Tea
+
+On the night before our big attack on July 1, 1916, on the Somme, eight
+of us were in a dug-out getting a little rest. Jerry must have found
+some extra shells for he was strafing pretty heavily.
+
+Two Cockney pals from Stratford were busy down on their hands and knees
+with some lighted grease and pieces of dry sandbag, trying to boil a
+mess-tin of water to make some tea.
+
+The water was nearly on the boil when Jerry dropped a "big 'un" right
+into the side of our dug-out.
+
+The smoke and dust had hardly cleared, when one of the Stratfordites
+exclaimed, looking down at the overturned mess-tin, "Blimey, that's
+caused it." Almost immediately his pal (lying on his back, his face
+covered with blood and dirt, and his right hand clasped tightly)
+answered: "'S'all right. I ain't put the tea and sugar in."--_J. Russ
+(Cpl., late 6th Battn. Royal Berkshire Regt.), 309 Ilford Lane, Ilford,
+Essex._
+
+
+Old Dutch Unlucky
+
+After a week in Ypres Salient in February 1915 we were back at a place
+called Vlamertinghe "resting," i.e. providing the usual working parties
+at night. Going out with one of these parties, well loaded with barbed
+wire, poles, etc., our rifles slung on our shoulders, things in general
+were fairly quiet. A stray bullet struck the piling swivel of the rifle
+of "Darkie," the man in front of me. "Missed my head by the skin of its
+teeth," said "Darkie." "Good job the old Dutch wasn't here. She reckons
+she's been unlucky ever since she set eyes on me--and there's another
+pension for life gone beggin'."--_B. Wiseman (late Oxford and Bucks
+L.I.), 12 Ursula Street, Battersea, S.W.11._
+
+
+A Long Streak of Misery
+
+Dusk was falling on the second day of the battle of Loos. I was
+pottering about looking for the other end of our line at the entrance
+to Orchard Street trench. A voice hailed me: "'Ere, mate! Is this the
+way aht?"
+
+It came from a little Cockney, a so-called "walking" wounded case.
+Immediately behind him there hobbled painfully six feet of complete
+abjection.
+
+I gave them directions, and told them that in two or three hundred
+yards they should be out of danger. Then Jerry dropped a "crump." It
+tortured the sorely-tried nerves of the long fellow, and when the
+bricks and dust had settled, he declared, with sudden conviction:
+"We're going to lose this blinkin' war, we are!"
+
+His companion gave him a look of contempt.
+
+"You ain't 'arf a long streak of misery," he said. "If I fort that I'd
+go back nah an' 'ave another shot at 'em--even if you 'ad to carry me
+back."--_"Lines," (33 (S) Bty), 24 Clifton Road, Maida Vale, W.9._
+
+
+"Smudger's" Tattoo
+
+"Smudger" Smith, from Hoxton, had just returned off leave, and joined
+us at Frankton Camp, near Ypres. Not long after his arrival "Jerry"
+started strafing us with his long-range guns, but "Smudger" was more
+concerned with the tattooing which he had had done on his arms on leave.
+
+I said they were very disfiguring, and advised him to have them
+removed, giving him an address to go to when he was again in London,
+and telling him the probable price.
+
+Not very long after our conversation "Jerry" landed a shell about forty
+yards away from us and made us part company for a while. When I pulled
+myself together and looked for "Smudger" he was half-buried with earth
+and looked in much pain.
+
+I went over to him and began to dig him out. Whilst I was thus engaged
+he said to me in a weak voice, but with a smile on his face:
+
+"How much did yer say it would corst to take them tattoos orf?" And
+when I told him he replied: "I fink I can get 'em done at harf-price
+nah."
+
+When I dug him out I found he had lost one arm.--_E. R. Wilson (late
+East Lancs Regt.), 22 Brindley Street, Shardeloes Road, New Cross,
+S.E.14._
+
+
+Importance of a "Miss"
+
+Soon after the capture of Hill 70 an artillery observation post was
+established near the new front line. A telephone line was laid to it,
+but owing to persistent shelling the wire soon became a mere succession
+of knots and joints. Communication was established at rare intervals,
+and repairing the line was a full-time job. A Cockney signaller and I
+went out at daybreak one morning to add more joints to the collection,
+and after using every scrap of spare wire available made another
+temporary job of it.
+
+Returning, however, we found at a cross-over that the wire had fallen
+from a short piece of board that had been stuck in the parapet to keep
+it clear of the trench. As my pal reached up to replace it his head
+caught the eye of a sniper, whose bullet, missing by a fraction, struck
+and knocked down the piece of wood.
+
+The signaller's exclamation was: "Blimey, mate, it's lucky he ain't
+broke the blinkin' line again!"--_J. Hudson (late R.G.A.), 6 Ventnor
+Road, New Cross, S.E.14._
+
+
+"In the Midst of War----"
+
+A battalion of a London regiment was in reserve in Riviere-Grosville, a
+small village just behind the line, in March 1917. Towards midnight we
+were ordered to fall in in fighting order as it was believed that the
+Germans had retired.
+
+Our mission was to reconnoitre the German position, and we were
+cautioned that absolute silence must be preserved.
+
+All went well until we reached the German barbed wire entanglements,
+that had to be negotiated by narrow paths, through which we proceeded
+softly and slowly, and with the wind "well up."
+
+Suddenly the air was rent by a stream of blistering invective, and a
+Cockney Tommy turned round on his pal, who had tripped and accidentally
+prodded him with the point of his bayonet, and at the top of his voice
+said:
+
+"Hi, wot's the blinkin' gime, Charlie? Do that again and I'll knock yer
+ruddy 'ead off."
+
+Charlie raised his voice to the level of the other's and said he'd
+like to see him do it, and while we flattened ourselves on the ground
+expecting a storm of bullets and bombs at any moment, the two pals
+dropped their rifles and had it out with their fists.
+
+Fortunately, rumour was correct, the Germans had retired.--_H. T.
+Scillitoe, 77 Stanmore Road, Stevenage, Herts._
+
+
+A Case for the Ordnance
+
+A pitch dark night on the Salonika front in 1917. I was in charge of an
+advanced detachment near a railhead.
+
+A general and a staff officer were travelling by rail-motor towards
+the front line when in the darkness the rail-motor crashed into
+some stationary freight trucks, completely wrecking the vehicle and
+instantly killing the driver.
+
+I rushed with a stretcher party to render help. The general and his
+staff officer were unconscious amid the wreckage.
+
+Feverishly we worked to remove the debris which pinned them down. Two
+of us caught the general beneath the shoulders, and one was raising his
+legs when to his horror one leg came away in his hand.
+
+When the general regained his senses, seeing our concern, he quickly
+reassured us. The leg turned out to be a wooden one! He had lost the
+original at Hill 60.
+
+The tension over, one of the stretcher-bearers, a Cockney from Mile
+End, whispered into my ear, "We can't take 'im to the 'orspital, sarge,
+he wants to go dahn to the Ordnance!"--_Sgt. T. C. Jones, M.S.M., 15
+Bushey Mill Lane, Watford._
+
+
+Dismal Jimmy's Prisoner
+
+Out of the ebb and flow, the mud and blood, the din and confusion
+of a two days' strafe on the Somme in September 1917 my particular
+chum, Private James X., otherwise known as "Dismal Jimmy," emerged
+with a German prisoner who was somewhat below the usual stature and
+considerably the worse for the wear and tear of his encounter with the
+Cockney soldier.
+
+"Jimmy," although obviously proud of his captive, was, as usual, "fed
+up" with the war, the strafe, and everything else. To make matters
+worse, on his way to the support trenches he was caught in the head by
+a sniper's bullet.
+
+His pet grievance, however, did not come from this particular
+misfortune, but from the fact that the prisoner had not taken advantage
+of the opportunity to "'Op it!" when the incident occurred. "Wot yer
+fink ov 'im, mate?" he queried. "Followed me all rahnd the blinkin'
+trenches, 'e did! Thinks I got a bit o' tripe on a skewer, maybe, th'
+dirty dog!" "Jimmy" muttered. Then he came under the orders of a Higher
+Command.--_H. J. R., 1 Central Buildings, Westminster, S.W.1._
+
+
+That Creepy Feeling
+
+In the brick-fields at La Bassee, 1915, there was a pump about five
+yards from our front line which we dare not approach in daylight. At
+night it was equally dangerous as it squeaked and so drew the sniper's
+fire.
+
+We gave up trying to use it after a few of our fellows had been sniped
+in their attempts, until Nobby Clarke said _he_ would get the water,
+adding: "That blinkin' sniper hasn't my name on any of his ruddy
+bullets."
+
+After he had gone we heard the usual squeak of the pump, followed by
+the inevitable _ping!_ ... _ping!_ We waited. No Nobby returned.
+
+Two of us crawled out to where he lay to bring him in. "Strewth, Bill,"
+he cried when my mate touched him, "you didn't 'arf put the blinkin'
+wind up me, _creepin' aht like that_!"
+
+There he lay, on his back, with a piece of rope tied to the handle of
+the pump. We always got our water after that.--_F. J. Pike (late 2nd
+Grenadier Guards), 4 Hilldrop Road, Bromley, Kent._
+
+
+"Toot-Sweet," the Runner
+
+Scene: Before Combles in the front line.
+
+Position: Acute.
+
+Several runners had been despatched from the forward position with
+urgent messages for Headquarters, and all had suffered the common
+fate of these intrepid fellows. One Cockney named Sweet, and known
+as "Toot-Sweet" for obvious reasons, had distinguished himself upon
+various occasions in acting as a runner.
+
+A volunteer runner was called for to cover a particularly dangerous
+piece of ground, and our old friend was to the fore as usual. "But,"
+said the company officer, "I can't send you again--someone else must
+go."
+
+Imagine his astonishment when "Toot-Sweet" said, "Giv' us this charnce,
+sir. I've got two mentions in dispatches now, an' I only want annuvver
+to git a medal."
+
+He went, but he did not get a medal.--_E. V. S. (late Middlesex Regt.),
+London, N.W.2._
+
+
+Applying the Moral
+
+Before we made an attack on "The Mound of Death," St. Eloi, in the
+early part of 1916, our Brigadier-General addressed the battalion and
+impressed upon us the importance of taking our objective.
+
+He told us the tale of two mice which fell into a basin of milk. The
+faint-hearted one gave up and was drowned. The other churned away with
+his legs until the milk turned into butter and he could walk away! He
+hoped that we would show the same determination in our attack.
+
+We blew up part of the German front line, which had been mined, and
+attacked each side of the crater, and took the position, though with
+heavy losses.
+
+On the following day one of my platoon fell into the crater, which, of
+course, was very muddy. As he plunged about in it he shouted "When I've
+churned this ruddy mud into concrete I'm 'opping aht of it."
+
+This was the action in which our gallant chaplain, Captain the Rev.
+Noel Mellish, won the V.C.--_"Reg. Bomber," 4th Royal Fusiliers, 3rd
+Division._
+
+
+Spelling v. Shelling
+
+An attack was to be made by our battalion at Givenchy in 1915. The
+Germans must have learned of the intention, for two hours before it was
+due to begin they sent up a strong barrage, causing many casualties.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"]
+
+Letters and cards, which might be their last, were being sent home by
+our men, and a Cockney at the other end of our dug-out shouted to his
+mate, "'Arry, 'ow d'yer spell 'delightful'?"--_H. W. Mason (late 23rd
+London Regt.), 26 Prairie Street, Battersea, S.W._
+
+
+Too Much Hot Water
+
+We were taking a much-needed bath and change in the Brewery vats at
+Poperinghe, when Jerry started a mad five minutes' "strafe" with, as it
+seemed, the old Brewery as a target.
+
+Above the din of explosions, falling bricks, and general "wind-up" the
+aggrieved voice of Sammy Wilkes from Poplar, who was still in the vat,
+was heard:
+
+"Lumme, and I only asked for a little drop more 'ot water."--_Albert
+Girardot (late K.R.R.), 250 Cornwall Road, Ladbroke Grove, W.11._
+
+
+"Ducks and Drakes! Ducks and Drakes!"
+
+After the evacuation of the Dardanelles the "Drakes" of the Royal Naval
+Division were ordered to France. Amongst them was Jack (his real name
+was John). A young Soccer player, swift of foot, he was chosen as a
+"runner."
+
+One day he tumbled into a shell hole. And just as he had recovered his
+wits in came Colonel Freyberg, V.C., somewhat wounded. Seeing Jack, he
+told him he was just the boy he wanted--the lad had run away from home
+to join up before he was seventeen--and scribbling a note the colonel
+handed it to him.
+
+The boy was told if he delivered it safely he could help the colonel to
+take Beaucourt. Jack began to scramble out. It was none too inviting,
+for shells were bursting in all directions, and it was much more
+comfortable inside. With a wide vocabulary from the Old Kent Road, he
+timely remembered that his father was a clergyman, and muttering to
+himself, "Ducks and drakes, ducks and drakes," he reached the top and
+went on his way.
+
+The sequel was that the message was delivered, reinforcements came
+up, led by the boy to the colonel, and Beaucourt was taken.--_Father
+Hughes, 60 Hainault Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea._
+
+
+You Must have Discipline
+
+On September 14, 1916, at Angle Wood on the Somme, the 168th (London)
+Brigade Signals were unloading a limber on a slope, on top of which was
+a battery which Jerry was trying to find. One of his shells found us,
+knocking all of us over and wounding nine or ten of us (one fatally).
+
+As the smoke and dust cleared, our Cockney sergeant (an old soldier
+whose slogan was "You must have dis_cip_line") gradually rose to
+a sitting position, and, whipping out his notebook and pencil,
+called "Nah, then, oo's wounded?" and calmly proceeded to write down
+names.--_Wm. R. Smith (late R.E. Signals), 231 Halley Road, Manor Park,
+E.12._
+
+
+L.B.W. in Mespot
+
+At a certain period during the operations in Mesopotamia so dependent
+were both the British and the Turks on the supply of water from the
+Tigris that it became an unwritten law that water-carriers from both
+sides were not to be sniped at.
+
+This went on until a fresh British regiment, not having had the
+position explained, fired on a party of Turks as they were returning
+from the river. The next time we went down to get water the Turks,
+of course, returned the compliment; so from then onwards all water
+carrying had to be done under cover of darkness.
+
+On one of these occasions a Turkish sniper peppered our water party
+as they were returning to our lines. They all got back, however; but
+one, a man from Limehouse, was seen to be struggling with his water
+container only half full, and at the same time it was noticed that his
+trousers and boots were saturated.
+
+"Hi!" shouted the sergeant, "you've lost half the water. Did that
+sniper get your bucket?"
+
+"Not 'im," replied the Cockney, "I saw to that. 'E only got me leg."
+
+What, in the darkness, appeared to be water spilt from the bucket was
+really the result of a nasty flesh wound.--_J. M. Rendle (Lieut.,
+I.A.R.O.), White Cottage, St. Leonard's Gardens, Hove, Sussex._
+
+
+Trench-er Work
+
+We were attacking Messines Ridge. The ground was a mass of flooded
+shell-holes. Hearing a splash and some cursing in a familiar voice, I
+called out, "Are you all right, Tubby?"
+
+The reply came, as he crawled out of a miniature mine crater, "Yus, but
+I've lorst me 'ipe (rifle)."
+
+I asked what he was going to do, and he replied, "You dig them German
+sausages out with yer baynit and I'll eat 'em."
+
+So saying, he pulled out his knife and fork and proceeded towards the
+enemy trenches.--_"Pip Don" (London Regt.), 22 Ingram Road, Thornton
+Heath._
+
+
+"The Best Man--Goes Fust"
+
+In the second battle of Arras, 1917, our regiment was held up near
+Gavrelle and was occupying a line of shell-holes. The earth was heaving
+all around us with the heavy barrage. Peeping over the top of my
+shell-hole I found my neighbours, "Shorty" (of Barnes) and "Tiny" (of
+Kent) arguing about who was the best man.
+
+All of a sudden over came one of Jerry's five-nines. It burst too close
+to "Shorty," who got the worst of it, and was nearly done for. But he
+finished his argument, for he said to "Tiny" in a weak voice, "That
+shows you who's the best man. My ole muvver always says as the best
+goes fust."--_J. Saxby, Paddington, W.2._
+
+
+When Clemenceau Kissed the Sergeant
+
+About Christmas of 1917 I was on the Somme with one of the most
+Cockney of the many battalions of the Royal Fusiliers. As we sheltered
+in dug-outs from the "gale" Fritz was putting over, to our surprise
+we heard a voice greet us in French, "_Allons, mes enfants_: _Ca va
+toujours_."
+
+Looking up we beheld an old man in shabby suit and battered hat who
+seemed the typical French peasant. "Well, of all the old idiots,"
+called out the sergeant. "Shut yer face an' 'ook it, ye blamed old
+fool." For answer the old man gave the sergeant the surprise of his
+life by seizing him in a grip of iron and planting a resounding kiss on
+each cheek, French fashion.
+
+Just at that moment some brass hats came along and the mystery was
+explained. The "old fool" was the late Georges Clemenceau, then French
+War Minister, who had come to see for himself what it was like in our
+sector and had lost his guides.
+
+"An' to think that 'e kissed me just like I was a kid, after I'd told
+'im to 'ook it," commented the sergeant afterwards. "Wonder wot 'e'd 'a
+done 'ad I told 'im to go to 'ell, as I'd 'alf a mind to."
+
+Years later I was one of a party of the British Legion received in
+Paris by "The Tiger," and I recalled the incident. "Pere La Victoire"
+laughed heartily. "That Cockney sergeant was right," he said, "I was an
+old fool to go about like that in the line, but then somebody has got
+to play the fool in war-time, so that there may be no follies left for
+the wise heads to indulge in."--_H. Stockman, Hotel Terminus, Rue St.
+Lazare, Paris, VIIIeme, France._
+
+
+Poet and--Prophet
+
+I was sitting with my pal in the trenches of the front line waiting
+for the next move when I heard our Cockney break into the chorus of a
+home-made song:
+
+    "'Twas moonlight in the trenches,
+      The sky was royal blue,
+    When Jerry let his popgun go,
+      And up the 'ole 'ouse flew."
+
+The last words were drowned in a terrific crash. There was sudden
+quiet afterwards, and then a voice said, "There y'are, wot did I tell
+yer?"--_T. E. Crouch, 28 Eleanor Road, Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Pub that Opened Punctually
+
+It was at the village of Zudkerque, where Fritz had bombed and blown up
+a dump in 1916. My pal and I were standing outside a cafe, the windows
+of which were shuttered, when the blast of a terrific explosion blew
+out the shutters. They hit my pal and me on the head and knocked us
+into the roadway.
+
+My pal picked himself up, and, shaking bits of broken glass off him and
+holding a badly gashed head, said: "Lumme, Ginger, they don't 'arf open
+up quick 'ere. Let's go an 'ave one."--_J. March (late R.E.), London,
+S.E._
+
+
+That Precious Tiny Tot
+
+We had paraded for the rum issue at Frankton Camp, near Ypres, when the
+enemy opened fire with long-range guns. A Cockney came forward with
+his mug, drew his issue, and moved off to drink it under cover and at
+leisure. Suddenly a large shell whooped over and burst about 40 yards
+away. With a casual glance at the fountain of earth which soared up,
+the man calmly removed his shrapnel helmet and held it over his mug
+until the rain of earth and stones ceased.--_"Skipper," D.L.I., London,
+W.2._
+
+
+Cigs and Cough Drops
+
+Cigarettes we knew not; food was scarce, so was ammunition.
+Consequently I was detailed on the eve of the retreat from Serbia to
+collect boxes of S.A.A. lying near the front line.
+
+On the way to report my arrival to the infantry officer I found a
+Cockney Tommy badly wounded in the chest. "It's me chest, ain't it,
+mate?" he asked. I nodded in reply. "Then I'll want corf drops, not
+them," and with that he handed me a packet of cigarettes. How he got
+them and secretly saved them up so long is a mystery.
+
+I believe he knew that he would not require either cough drops or
+cigarettes, and I took a vow to keep the empty packet to remind me of
+the gallant fellow.--_H. R. (late R.F.A.), 10th Division, London, N.3._
+
+
+"Smiler" to the End
+
+When Passchendaele started on July 31, 1917, we who were holding ground
+captured in the Messines stunt of June 7 carried out a "dummy" attack.
+
+One of the walking wounded coming back from this affair of bluff,
+I struck a hot passage, for Jerry was shelling the back areas with
+terrific pertinacity. Making my way to the corduroy road by Mount
+Kemmel, I struck a stretcher party. Their burden was a rifleman of
+the R.B.'s, whose body was a mass of bandages. Seeing me ducking and
+dodging every time a salvo burst near he called out:
+
+"Keep wiv me, mate, 'cos two shells never busts in the same 'ole--and
+if I ain't a shell 'ole 'oo is?"
+
+Sheer grit kept him alive until after we reached Lord Derby's War
+Hospital outside Warrington, and the nickname of "Smiler" fitted him to
+the last.--_W. G. C., 2 Avonly Road, S.E.14._
+
+
+"The Bishop" and the Bright Side
+
+A fully-qualified chartered accountant in the City, my pal, "The
+Bishop"--so called because of his dignified manner--was promoted
+company-clerk in the Irish Rifles at Messines in 1917.
+
+Company headquarters were in a dark and dismal barn where the Company
+Commander and "The Bishop" were writing under difficulties one
+fine morning--listening acutely to the shriek and crash of Jerry's
+whizz-bangs just outside the ramshackle door.
+
+The betting was about fifty to one on a direct hit at any moment. The
+skipper had a wary eye on "The Bishop"--oldish, shortish, stoutish,
+rather comical card in his Tommy's kit. Both were studiously preserving
+an air of outward calm.
+
+Then the direct hit came--high up, bang through the rafters, and blew
+off the roof. "The Bishop" looked up at the sky, still clutching his
+fountain-pen.
+
+"Ah, that's better, sir," he said. "Now we can see what we are
+doing."--_P. J. K., Westbourne Grove, W.2._
+
+
+"Chuck yer Blinkin' 'Aggis at 'im!"
+
+The Cockney inhabitants of "Brick Alley," at Carnoy, on the Somme in
+1916, had endured considerable attention from a German whizz-bang
+battery situated a mile or so away behind Trones Wood.
+
+During a lull in the proceedings a fatigue party of "Jocks," each
+carrying a 40-lb. sphere, the business end of a "toffee-apple" (trench
+mortar bomb), made their appearance, and were nicely strung out in the
+trench when Jerry opened out again.
+
+The chances of a direct hit made matters doubly unpleasant.
+
+The tension became a little too much for one of the regular billetees,
+and from a funk-hole in the side of the trench a reproachful voice
+addressed the nearest Highlander: "For the luv o' Mike, Jock, get up
+and chuck yer blinkin' 'aggis at 'em."--_J. C. Whiting (late 8th Royal
+Sussex Pioneers), 36 Hamlet Gardens, W.6._
+
+
+Back to Childhood
+
+I had been given a lift in an A.S.C. lorry going to Jonchery on May
+27, 1918, when it was suddenly attacked by a German plane. On getting
+a burst of machine-gun bullets through the wind-screen the driver, a
+stout man of about forty, pulled up, and we both clambered down.
+
+The plane came lower and re-opened fire, and as there was no other
+shelter we were obliged to crawl underneath the lorry and dodge from
+one side to the other in order to avoid the bullets.
+
+[Illustration: "Fancy a bloke my age playin' 'ide an' seek"]
+
+After one hurried "pot" at the plane, and as we dived for the other
+side, my companion gasped: "Lumme! Fancy a bloke my age a-playin' 'ide
+an' seek!"--_H. G. E. Woods, "The Willows," Bridge Street, Maidenhead._
+
+
+The Altruist
+
+One afternoon in July 1917 our battalion was lying by a roadside on the
+Ypres front waiting for night to fall so that we could proceed to the
+front line trenches.
+
+"Smiffy" was in the bombing section of his platoon and had a bag of
+Mills grenades to carry.
+
+Fritz began to get busy, and soon we had shrapnel bursting overhead.
+"Smiffy" immediately spread his body over his bag of bombs like a hen
+over a clutch of eggs.
+
+"What the 'ell are you sprawling over them bombs for?" asked the
+sergeant.
+
+"Well," replied Smiffy, "it's like this 'ere, sergeant. I wouldn't mind
+a little Blighty one meself, but I'd jest 'ate for any of these bombs
+ter get wounded while I'm wiv 'em."--_T. E. M. (late London Regt.),
+Colliers Wood, S.W.19._
+
+
+"Minnie's Stepped on my Toe!"
+
+We were lying in front of Bapaume in August 1918 awaiting
+reinforcements. They came from Doullens, and among them was a Cockney
+straight from England. He greeted our sergeant with the words, "Wot
+time does the dance start?" The sergeant, an old-timer, replied, "The
+dance starts right now."
+
+So over the top we went, but had not gone far when the Cockney was
+bowled over by a piece from a minnenwerfer, which took half of one foot
+away.
+
+I was rendering first aid when the sergeant came along. He looked down
+and said, "Hello, my lad, soon got tired of the dance, eh?"
+
+The little Cockney looked up and despite his pain he smiled and said,
+"On wiv the dance, sergeant! I'm sitting this one aht, fer Minnie has
+stepped on my toe."--_E. C. Hobbs (late 1st Royal Marine Battn.), 103
+Moore Park Road, Fulham, S.W._
+
+
+In the Dim Dawn
+
+Jerry had made a surprise raid on our trenches one morning just as
+it was getting light. He got very much the worst of it, but when
+everything was over Cockney Simmonds was missing.
+
+We hunted everywhere, but couldn't find him. Suddenly we saw him
+approaching with a hefty looking German whom he had evidently taken
+prisoner.
+
+"Where did you get him from, Simmonds?" we asked.
+
+"Well, d'yer see that shell-'ole over there 'alf full o' water?"
+
+"Yes," we said, all craning our necks to look.
+
+"Well, this 'ere Fritz didn't."--_L. Digby (12th East Surreys), 10
+Windsor Road, Holloway, N.7._
+
+
+Beau Brummell's Puttees
+
+March 1918. Just before the big German offensive. One night I was out
+with a reconnoitring patrol in "No Man's Land." We had good reason to
+believe that Jerry also had a patrol in the near vicinity.
+
+Suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire in our direction seemed to
+indicate that we had been spotted. We dived for shell-holes and any
+available cover, breathlessly watching the bullets knock sparks off
+the barbed wire. When the firing ceased and we attempted to re-form
+our little party, a Cockney known as "Posh" Wilks was missing.
+
+Fearing the worst, we peered into the darkness. Just then a Verey
+light illuminated the scene, and we saw the form of "Posh" Wilks
+some little distance away. I went over to see what was wrong, and
+to my astonishment he was kneeling down carefully rewinding one of
+his puttees. "Can't get these ruddy things right anyhow to-day," he
+said.--_H. W. White (late Royal Sussex Regt.), 18 Airthrie Road,
+Goodmayes, Essex._
+
+
+Plenty of Room on Top
+
+On December 4, 1917, we made a surprise attack on the enemy in the
+Jabal Hamrin range in Northern Mesopotamia.
+
+We wore our winter clothing (the same as in Europe), with tin hats
+complete. After stumbling over the rocks in extended order for some
+time, the platoon on my left, who were on higher ground, sighted a
+Turkish camp fire on the right.
+
+We swung round in that direction, to find ourselves up against an
+almost blank wall of rock, about 20 ft. high, the enemy being somewhere
+on top.
+
+At last we found a place at which to scale it, one at a time. We began
+to mount, in breathless silence, expecting the first man to come
+tumbling down on top of all the rest.
+
+I was the second, and just as I started to climb I felt two sharp tugs
+at my entrenching tool and a hoarse Cockney voice whispered, "Full up
+inside; plenty o' room on top." I was annoyed at the time, but I have
+often laughed over it since.--_P. V. Harris, 89 Sherwood Park Road,
+S.W.16._
+
+
+Nearly Lost His Washing-Bowl
+
+In March 1917 we held the front line trenches opposite a sugar refinery
+held by the Germans. We got the order to stand to as our engineers were
+going to blow up a mine on the German position.
+
+Up went the mine. Then Fritz started shelling us. Shells were bursting
+above and around us. A piece of shrapnel hit a Cockney, a lad from
+Paddington, on his tin hat.
+
+When things calmed down another Cockney bawled out, "Lumme, that was a
+near one, Bill." "Blimey, not 'arf," was the reply. "If I 'adn't got my
+chin-strap dahn I'd 'ave lost my blooming washing-bowl."--_E. Rickard
+(late Middlesex Regt.), 65 Apsley End, Hemel Hempstead, Herts._
+
+
+Bath Night
+
+The trenches on the Somme were very deep and up to our knees in mud,
+and we were a pretty fine sight after being in the front line several
+days over our time.
+
+I shall never forget the night we passed out of the trenches--like a
+lot of mud-larks. The O.C., seeing the state we were in, ordered us to
+have a bath. We stopped at an old barn, where the R.E.'s had our water
+ready in wooden tubs. Imagine the state of the water when, six to a
+tub, we had to skim the mud off after one another!
+
+Just as we were enjoying the treat, Jerry started sending over some of
+his big stuff, and one shell took the back part of the barn off.
+
+Everybody began getting out of the tubs, except a Cockney, who sat up
+in his tub and shouted out, "Blimey, Jerry, play the blinkin' game.
+Wait till I've washed me back. I've lorst me soap."--_C. Ralph (late
+Royal Welch Fusiliers), 153d Guinness Buildings, Hammersmith, W.6._
+
+
+Back to the Shack
+
+Whilst on the Somme in October 1916 my pal Mac (from Notting Hill)
+and myself were sent forward to a sunken road just behind Les Boeufs
+to assist at a forward telephone post which was in communication with
+battalion H.Q. by wire and with the companies in the trenches by runner.
+
+During the night a false "S O S" was sent up, and our guns opened
+out--and, of course, so did the German guns--and smashed our telephone
+wire.
+
+It being "Mac's" turn out, he picked up his 'phone and went up the
+dug-out steps. When he had almost reached the top a big shell burst
+right in the dug-out entrance and blew "Mac" back down the stairs to
+the bottom, bruised, but otherwise unhurt.
+
+Picking himself up slowly he removed his hat, placed his hand over his
+heart, and said, gazing round, "Back to the old 'ome agin--and it ain't
+changed a bit."--_A. J. West (late Corpl., Signals), 1/13th London
+Regt., 212 Third Avenue, Paddington, W.10._
+
+
+His Last Gamble
+
+One night in July 1917, as darkness came along, my battalion moved up
+and relieved a battalion in the front line.
+
+Next morning as dawn was breaking Jerry started a violent strafe. My
+platoon occupied three fire-bays, and we in the centre one could shout
+to those in the bays on either side, although we could not see them.
+
+In one of the end bays was "Monte Carlo" Teddy, a true lad from London,
+a "bookie's tick-tack" before the war. He was called "Monte Carlo"
+because he would gamble on anything. As a shell exploded anywhere near
+us Teddy would shout, "Are you all right, sarge?" until this kind of
+got on my nerves, so I crawled into his bay to inquire why he had
+suddenly taken such an interest in my welfare. He explained, "I gets up
+a draw larst night, sarge, a franc a time, as to which of us in this
+lot stopped a packet first, and you're my gee-gee."
+
+I had hardly left them when a shell exploded in their bay. The only
+one to stop a packet was Teddy, and we carried him into the next bay
+to await the stretcher-bearers. I could see he would never reach the
+dressing station.
+
+Within five minutes I had stopped a lovely Blighty, and they put me
+alongside Teddy. When he noticed who it was he said, "Well I'm blowed,
+just my blinkin' luck; licked a short head and I shan't last long
+enough to see if there's a' objection."
+
+Thus he died, as he always said he would, with his boots on, and my
+company could never replace him. Wherever two men of my old mob meet
+you can bet your boots that one or the other is sure to say, "Remember
+'Monte Carlo' Ted?"--_E. J. Clark (late Sergeant, Lincoln Regt.), c/o
+Sir Thomas Lipton, Bart., K.C.V.O., Osidge, Southgate, N.14._
+
+
+That Infernal Drip-Drip-Drip!
+
+We were trying to sleep in half a dug-out that was roofed with a
+waterproof sheet--Whale and I. It was a dark, wet night. I had hung a
+mess tin on a nail to catch the water that dripped through, partly to
+keep it off my head, also to provide water for an easy shave in the
+morning.
+
+A strafe began. The night was illuminated by hundreds of vivid flashes,
+and shells of all kinds burst about us. The dug-out shook with the
+concussions. Trench mortars, rifle grenades, and machine-gun fire
+contributed to the din.
+
+Whale, who never had the wind up, was shifting his position and turning
+from one side to the other.
+
+"What's the matter?" I asked my chum. "Can't you sleep?"
+
+"Sleep! 'Ow the 'ell can a bloke sleep with that infernal
+_drip-drip-drip_ goin' on?"--_P. T. Hughes (late 21st London Regiment,
+47th Division), 12 Shalimar Gardens, Acton, W._
+
+
+"A Blinkin' Vanity Box"
+
+After the terrific upheaval of June 7, 1917, my brigade (the 111th)
+held the line beyond Wytschaete Ridge for some weeks. While my company
+was in support one day my corporal and I managed to scrounge into a
+pill-box away from the awful mud. We could not escape the water because
+the explosion of the mines on June 7 had cracked the foundation of our
+retreat and water was nearly two feet deep on the floor.
+
+Just before dusk on this rainy July evening I was shaving before a
+metal mirror in the top bunk in the pill-box, while the corporal washed
+in a mess-tin in the bunk below. Just then Jerry started a severe
+strafe and a much-muddied runner of the 13th Royal Fusiliers appeared
+in the unscreened doorway.
+
+"Come in and shelter, old man," I said. So he stepped on to an
+ammunition box that just failed to keep his feet clear of the water.
+
+He had watched our ablutions in silence for a minute or so, when a
+shell burst almost in the doorway and flung him into the water below
+our bunks, where he sat with his right arm red and rent, sagging at his
+side.
+
+"Call this a shelter?" he said. "Blimey, it's a blinkin' vanity
+box!"--_Sgt., 10th R.F., East Sheen, S.W.14._
+
+
+Playing at Statues
+
+We were making our way to a detached post just on the left of Vimy, and
+Jerry was sending up Verey lights as we were going along. Every time
+one went up we halted, and kept quite still in case we should be seen.
+
+It was funny indeed to see how some of the men halted when a light
+went up. Some had one foot down and one raised, and others were in a
+crouching position. "My missus orta see me nah playing at blinkin'
+statchoos," said one old Cockney.--_T. Kelly (late 17th London Regt.),
+43 Ocean Street, Stepney, E.1._
+
+[Illustration: "Playin' at statchoos."]
+
+
+Bo Peep--1915 Version
+
+In 1915 at Fricourt "Copper" Kingsland of our regiment, the 7th Royal
+West Surreys, was on sentry on the fire-step in the front line. At this
+period of the war steel helmets were not in use. Our cap badge was in
+the form of a lamb.
+
+A Fritz sniper registered a hit through Kingsland's hat, cutting the
+tail portion of the lamb away. After he had pulled himself together
+"Copper" surveyed his cap badge and remarked: "On the larst kit
+inspection I reported to the sargint that yer was lorst, and nah I
+shall 'ave ter tell 'im that when Bo Peep fahnd yer, yer wagged yer
+bloomin' tail off in gratitood."--_"Spot," Haifu, Farley Road, Selsdon,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry's Dip in the Fat
+
+We were out at rest in an open field on the Somme front when one
+morning, about 5 a.m., our cook, Alf, of Battersea, was preparing the
+company's breakfast. There was bacon, but no bread. I was standing
+beside the cooker soaking one of my biscuits in the fat.
+
+Suddenly a Jerry airman dived down towards the cooker, firing his
+machine gun. I got under the cooker, Alf fell over the side of it,
+striking his head on the ground. I thought he was hit. But he sat up,
+rubbing his head and looking up at Jerry, who was then flying away.
+
+"'Ere!" he shouted, "next time yer wants a dip in the fat, don't be
+so rough."--_H. A. Redford (late 24th London Regt.), 31 Charrington
+Street, N.W.1._
+
+
+Carried Unanimously
+
+Some recently captured trenches had to be cleared of the enemy, and in
+the company told off for the job was a Cockney youth. Proceeding along
+the trench with a Mills bomb in his hand, he came upon a number of the
+enemy hiding in a dug-out.
+
+"Nah then," he shouted, holding up the bomb in readiness to throw it
+if necessary, "all them as votes for coming along wiv me 'old up your
+'ands."
+
+All hands were held up, with the cry "Kamerad! Kamerad!" Upon which the
+Cockney shouted, "Look, mates, it's carried unanermously."--_H. Morgan
+(late 4th Telegraph Construction Co., R.E. Signals), 26 Ranelagh Road,
+Wembley._
+
+
+A Very Hot Bath
+
+During the retreat of the remnants of the Fifth Army in March 1918 two
+of the six-inch howitzers of the Honourable Artillery Company were in
+action in some deserted horse-lines outside Peronne.
+
+During a lull Gunner A----, a Londoner, like the rest of us, went
+"scrounging" in some nearby cottages recently abandoned by their
+inhabitants. He reappeared carrying a large zinc bath, and after
+filling it with water from the horse pond he made a huge bonfire with
+broken tables and other furniture, and set the bath on the fire.
+
+Just when the water had been heated Fritz opened out with 5.9's. As
+we were not firing just then we all took cover, with the exception of
+Gunner A----, who calmly set his bath of hot water down by one of the
+guns, undressed, and got into the bath. A minute later a large piece of
+shell also entered the bath, passed through the bottom of it and into
+the ground.
+
+The gunner watched the precious water running out, then he slowly rose
+and, beginning to dress, remarked, "Very well, Fritz, have it your way.
+I may not be godly, but I _did_ want to be clean."--_Edward Boaden
+(late H.A.C., 309 Siege Battery), 17 Connaught Gardens, Muswell Hill,
+N.10._
+
+
+In Lieu of ----
+
+During a winter's night on the Somme a party of us were drawing rations
+just behind the front line trenches. A Cockney chum of mine was
+disgusted to hear the Q.M. say he was issuing hot soup in lieu of rum.
+
+"Coo! What next?" he grumbled. "Soup in lieu of rum, biscuits in
+lieu of bread, jam in lieu----" While he spoke Jerry sent over two
+whizz-bangs which scattered us and the rations and inflicted several
+casualties.
+
+My chum was hit badly. As he was being carried past the Q.M. he smiled
+and said, "Someone will have to be in lieu of me now, Quarter!"--_T.
+Allen (late Plymouth Battn., R.N.D.), 21 Sydney Street, S.W._
+
+
+Putting the Hatt on It
+
+Two brothers named Hatt were serving together in France. The elder was
+always saying that he would never be hit, as the Germans, not being
+able to spell his name correctly, could not put it on any of their
+shells or bullets. (It was a common saying among the soldiers, of
+course, that a shell or bullet which hit a man had the victim's name on
+it.)
+
+The younger brother was taken prisoner, and two days later the elder
+brother was shot through the finger. Turning to his mates he exclaimed,
+"Blimey, me brother's been an' split on me."--_W. J. Bowes, 224 Devon's
+Road, Bow, E.3._
+
+
+Tangible Evidence
+
+We were at Levantie in 1915, just before the Battle of Loos, and the
+rumour was about that the Germans were running short of ammunition. It
+was very quiet in our sector, as we were opposite the Saxons, and we
+strolled about at ease.
+
+A party of us was told off to get water just behind the trenches in
+an old farmhouse which had a pump. We filled all the water bottles
+and rum jars and then had a look round the ruins to see what we could
+scrounge, when suddenly Fritz sent a shell over. It hit the wall and
+sent bricks flying all over the place. One of the bricks hit my mate on
+the head and knocked him out. When we had revived him he looked up and
+said, "Strewth, it's right they ain't got no 'ammo.'; they're slinging
+bricks. It shows yer we've got 'em all beat to a frazzle, don't
+it?"--_J. Delderfield, 54 Hampden Street, Paddington._
+
+
+What the Cornwalls' Motto Meant
+
+A platoon of my regiment, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, was
+engaged in carrying screens to a point about 200 yards behind the
+front line. The screens were to be set up to shield a road from German
+observation balloons, and they were made of brushwood bound together
+with wire. They were rolled up for convenience of transport, and when
+rolled they looked like big bundles of pea-sticks about ten feet long.
+They were very heavy.
+
+Three men were told off to carry each screen. One of the parties of
+three was composed of two Cornishmen (who happened to be at the ends
+of the screen) and their Cockney pal (in the middle), the screen being
+carried on their shoulders.
+
+When they had nearly reached the point in the communication trench
+where it was to be dumped, Jerry sent over a salvo of whizz-bangs. His
+range was good, and consequently the carrying party momentarily became
+disorganised. The Cornishman at the front end of the screen dashed
+towards the front line, whilst the man at the other end made a hurried
+move backwards.
+
+This left the Cockney with the whole of the weight of the screen on his
+shoulder. The excitement was over in a few seconds and the Cornishmen
+returned to find the Cockney lying on the duckboards, where he had
+subsided under the weight of his burden, trying to get up. He stopped
+struggling when he saw them and said very bitterly, "Yus: One and All's
+yer blinkin' motter; _one_ under the blinkin' screen and _all_ the rest
+'op it."
+
+"One and All," I should mention, is the Cornwalls' motto.--_"Cornwall,"
+Greenford, Middlesex._
+
+
+Atlas--On the Somme
+
+During the Somme offensive we were holding the line at Delville Wood,
+and a Cockney corporal fresh from England came to our company.
+
+He was told to take charge of a very advanced post, and our company
+officer gave him all important instructions as to bomb stores,
+ammunition, rifle grenades, emergency rations, S O S rockets, gas, and
+all the other numerous and important orders for an advanced post.
+
+After the officer asked him if he understood it all, he said, "Blimey,
+sir, 'as 'Aig gone on leave?"--_Ex-Sergt. Geary, D.C.M. (East Surrey
+Regt.), 57 Longley Road, Tooting._
+
+
+Putting the Lid on It
+
+On the Struma Front, Salonika, in September 1916, I was detailed to
+take a party of Bulgar prisoners behind the lines.
+
+Two Bulgars, one of them a huge, bald-headed man, were carrying a
+stretcher in which was reposing "Ginger" Hart, of Deptford, who was
+shot through the leg.
+
+The white bursts of shrapnel continued in our vicinity as we proceeded.
+One shell burst immediately in front of us, and we halted.
+
+It was at this juncture that I saw "Ginger" leave his stretcher and
+hop away on one leg. Having picked up a tin hat, he hopped back to the
+big Bulgar prisoner and put the hat on his bald head, saying, "Abaht
+time we put the lid on the sooit puddin', corp: that's the fifth shot
+they've fired at that target."--_G. Findlay, M.M. (late 81st Infantry
+Brigade, 27th Division), 3a Effie Place, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+Taffy was a--German!
+
+In the confused fighting round Gueudecourt in 1916 a machine-gun
+section occupied a position in a maze of trenches, some of which led
+towards the German line. The divisional pioneer battalion was the
+Monmouthshire Regiment, all of whose men were Welsh and for the most
+part spoke Welsh.
+
+A ration party of the M.G.C. had gone back one night and had been
+absent some time when two members rushed into the position, gasping:
+"We took the wrong turning! Walked into Jerry's line! They've got
+Smiffy--and the rations!"
+
+We had hardly got over the shock of this news when Smiffy came
+staggering up, dragging the rations and mopping a bleeding face, at the
+same time cursing the rest of the ration party.
+
+"Luv us, Smiffy, how did you get away? We thought the Germans had got
+you for sure!"
+
+"Germans," gasped Smiffy. "GERMANS! _I thought they was the
+Monmouths!_"--_S. W. Baxter (late 86th M.G.C.), 110 Bishopsgate, E.C.2._
+
+
+A Tea-time Story
+
+At the Battle of Cambrai in November 1917 my regiment, the London Irish
+Rifles, was undergoing a terrific bombardment in Bourlon Wood.
+
+The Germans had been plastering us for about 12 hours with "all
+calibres," to say nothing of continual gassing.
+
+As we had been wearing gas-masks almost all day without respite, we
+were nearly "all in" as the afternoon wore on.
+
+I was attending to a man with a smashed foot, when I felt a touch on
+my shoulder, and, blinking up through my sweat-covered mask, I saw our
+mess-orderly with his hand over a mess-tin (to keep the gas out, as he
+said).
+
+I could hardly believe my eyes, but when I heard him say, "Tea is
+ready, Sarg. Blimey, what a strafe!" I lifted my mask and drank deeply.
+
+From that day till this it has been a wonder to me how he made it.--_S.
+Gibbons,130 Buckhold Road, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+A Tip to a Prisoner
+
+The object of our raiding party near Gouzeaucourt in 1917 was to obtain
+a prisoner.
+
+One plucky, but very much undersized, German machine gunner blazed away
+at us until actually pounced upon. A Cockney who was well among the
+leaders jumped down beside him, and heaving him up said:
+
+"Come on, old mate, you're too blinkin' good for this side!"--and then,
+noticing his lack of inches, "and if yer wants ter make the 'old man'
+larf tell him you're a 'Prussian Guard.'"--_Walter S. Johnson (late
+R.W.F.), 29 Southwold Road, Upper Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Cockney Logic
+
+Early in the war aeroplanes were not so common as they were later on,
+and trench "strafing" from the air was practically unheard of. One
+day two privates of the Middlesex Regiment were engaged in clearing
+a section of front line trench near the La Bassee road when a German
+plane came along and sprayed the trenches with machine-gun bullets.
+
+[Illustration: ...and they both went on digging]
+
+One of the men (both were typical Cockneys) looked up from his digging
+and said: "Strike, there's a blinkin' aeroplane."
+
+The other took no notice but went on digging.
+
+By-and-by the machine came back, still firing, whereupon the speaker
+again looked up, spat, and said: "Blimey, there's annuver of 'em."
+
+"No, 'tain't," was the reply, "it's the same blighter again."
+
+"Blimey," said the first man, "so 'tis." And both went on digging.--_W.
+P. (late Middlesex Regt. and R.A.F.), Bucks._
+
+
+"Penalty, Ref!"
+
+It was a warm corner on the Givenchy front, with whizz-bangs dealing
+out death and destruction. But it was necessary that communication be
+maintained between the various H.Q.'s, and in this particular sector
+"Alf," from Bow, and myself were detailed to keep the "lines" intact.
+
+Suddenly a whizz-bang burst above us as we were repairing some
+shattered lines. We ducked instinctively, but friend "Alf" caught a bit
+of the shell and was thrown to the bottom of the slushy trench.
+
+Being a football enthusiast he at once raised his arm in appeal, and,
+with the spirit that wins wars, shouted, "Penalty, ref!"
+
+He was dazed, but unhurt.--_W. G. Harris (late Sergt., R.E.), 34
+Denmark Street, Watford._
+
+
+An Appointment with his Medical Adviser
+
+During the battle of the Ancre in November 1916 the 51st Division were
+going over the top on our left while our battalion kept Jerry engaged
+with a raid. Every inch of the rain-sodden landscape seemed to be
+heaving beneath the combined barrages of the opposing forces.
+
+My sergeant, a D.C.M., had been lying in the trench badly wounded for
+some hours waiting for things to ease up before he could be got down
+to the dressing-station. Presently our raiding party returned with six
+prisoners, among them an insignificant-looking German officer (who,
+waving a map about, and jabbering wildly, seemed to be blaming his
+capture to the faulty tactics of his High Command).
+
+The wounded sergeant watched these antics for a while with a grin,
+driving the pain-bred puckers from his face, and then called out, "Oi,
+'Indenburg! Never mind abaht ye map o' London; wot time does this 'ere
+war end, 'cos I've got an appointment wiv my medical adviser!"
+
+Dear, brave old chap. His appointment was never kept.--_S. T. (late
+37th Div.), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+One Up, and Two to Go
+
+On the Struma front in 1917 a bombing plane was being put back into its
+hangar. Suddenly there was a terrific bang. A dozen of us ran up to see
+what had happened, but a Cockney voice from inside the hangar cried
+out, "Don't come in. There's two more bombs to go off, and I can't find
+'em."--_A. Dickinson, Brixton._
+
+
+On the Parados
+
+Dawn of a very hot day in September 1916 on the Balkan front. We were
+in the enemy trenches at "Machine Gun Hill," a position hitherto
+occupied by the Prussian Guards, who were there to encourage the
+Bulgars.
+
+We had taken the position the previous evening with very little loss.
+As the day broke we discovered that we were enfiladed on all sides
+and overlooked by the Prussians not more than forty yards away. It
+was impossible to evacuate wounded and prisoners or for reserves to
+approach with food, water, and ammunition. The enemy counter-attacked
+in overwhelming numbers; shells rained on us; our own were falling
+short; it was suicide to show one's head. Towards noon, casualties
+lying about. The sun merciless. Survivors thoroughly exhausted. Up
+jumped a Cockney bomber. "Blimey, I can't stick this," and perched
+himself on the parados. "I can see 'em; chuck some 'Mills' up." And as
+fast as they were handed to him he pitched bombs into the Prussians'
+midst, creating havoc. He lasted about three minutes, then fell,
+riddled with bullets. He had stemmed the tide.
+
+Shortly afterwards we retired. His pluck was never recorded or
+recognised, but his feat will never be forgotten by at least one of the
+few who got through.--_George McCann, 50 Guilford Street, London, W._
+
+
+Not Croquet
+
+We were occupying a support line, early in 1918, and a party of us was
+detailed to repair the barbed wire during the night.
+
+A Cockney found himself holding a stake while a Cornish comrade drove
+it home with a mallet.
+
+Suddenly a shell exploded a few yards from the pair and both were very
+badly wounded.
+
+When the Cockney recovered consciousness he was heard to remark to his
+comrade in misfortune, "Blimey, yer wants to be more careful wiv that
+there mallet; yer nearly 'it my 'and wiv it when that there firework
+exploded."--_A. A. Homer, 16 Grove Place, Enfield Wash, Middlesex._
+
+
+Sausages and Mashed
+
+At the end of 1914 we were in the trenches in the Ypres Salient. As
+we were only about 30 yards from the enemy lines, bombing went on all
+day. The German bombs, shaped like a long sausage, could be seen coming
+through the air. Our sentries, on the look-out for these, would shout:
+"Sausage right!" or "Sausage left!" as they came over.
+
+One night we were strengthened by reinforcements, including several
+Cockneys. The next morning one of our sentries saw a bomb coming
+over and shouted "Sausage right!" There followed an explosion which
+smothered two of our new comrades in mud and shreds of sandbag. One of
+the two got up, with sackcloth twisted all round his neck and pack.
+"'Ere, Bill, wot was that?" he asked one of our men.
+
+"Why, one of those sausages," Bill replied.
+
+"Lumme," said the new man, as he freed himself from the sacking, "I
+don't mind the sausages, but," he added as he wiped the mud from his
+eyes and face, "I don't like the mash."--_H. Millard (late East Surrey
+Regt.), 3 Nevill Road, Stoke Newington, N._
+
+
+Cheery to the End
+
+We were lining up to go over in the Battle of Arras on April 9, 1917.
+Ours being a Lancashire regiment, there were only two of us Cockneys in
+our platoon. We were standing easy, waiting for the rum issue, and Tom,
+my pal (we both came from Stratford), came over to me singing "Let's
+all go down the Strand...."
+
+Most of the Lancashire lads were looking a bit glum, but it cheered
+them up, and they all began to sing. I was feeling a bit gloomy myself,
+and Tom, seeing this, said: "What's the matter with you, Jimmy?"
+
+"I suppose I'll see you in London Hospital next week, Tom," I said.
+
+"Oh, shut up," says he. "If Jerry sends one over and it's got our names
+on it, why worry? And if we get a bad Blighty one, then I hopes they
+buries us at Manor Park. Here, Jim, tie this disc round me neck."
+
+Then the rum came up, and he started them singing, "And another little
+drink wouldn't do us any harm!"
+
+Off we went--and only ten minutes later he was gone. He was buried at
+Blany, Arras, not Manor Park.--_J. Pugh (late 1st King's Own Royal
+Lancasters), 27 Lizban Street, Blackheath, S.E.5._
+
+
+Souvenirs First
+
+The following incident took place during the Battle of Loos, September
+1915. I had been to Battalion H.Q. with a message and whilst awaiting a
+reply stood with others on "Harrow Road" watching our wounded go by.
+
+We frequently recognised wounded pals on the stretchers and inquired as
+to the nature of their wounds. The usual form of inquiry was: "Hullo
+---- what have you got?" In reply to this query one wounded man of our
+battalion, ignoring his wound as being of lesser importance, proudly
+answered: "Two Jerry helmets and an Iron Cross!"--_A. H. Bell (late
+Private, 15th London Regt., T.F.), 31 Raeburn Avenue, Surbiton, Surrey._
+
+
+Seven Shies a Tanner!
+
+It was near Hebuterne and very early in the morning of July 1, 1916. A
+terrific bombardment by both the Germans and ourselves was in progress
+just prior to the launching of our Somme offensive. We were in assembly
+trenches waiting for the dread zero hour.
+
+Away on our right some German guns were letting us have it pretty hot,
+and in consequence the "troops" were not feeling in the best of spirits.
+
+With us was a very popular Cockney corporal. He took his tin hat from
+off his head when the tension was high and, banging on it with his
+bayonet, cried: "Roll up, me lucky lads! Seven shies a tanner! Who'll
+'ave a go!" That bit of nonsense relieved the tension and enabled us to
+pull ourselves together.--_A. V. B. (late 9th Londons), Guildford._
+
+
+Bill Hawkins Fights Them All
+
+Whilst on the Ypres front during the fighting in 1918 we made an
+early-morning attack across the railway line in front of Dickebusch.
+After going about fifty yards across No Man's Land my Cockney pal (Bill
+Hawkins, from Stepney), who was running beside me, got a slight wound
+in the arm, and before he had gone another two yards he got another
+wound in the left leg.
+
+Suddenly he stopped, lifted his uninjured arm at the Germans and
+shouted, "Blimey, wot yer all firing at me for? Am I the only blinkin'
+man in this war?"--_S. Stevens (late Middlesex Regt., 2nd Battn.), 7
+Blenheim Street, Chelsea, S.W._
+
+
+Hide and Seek with Jerry
+
+To get information before the Somme offensive, the new idea of making
+daylight raids on the German trenches was adopted. It fell to our
+battalion to make the first big raid.
+
+Our objective was the "brick-fields" at Beaurains, near Arras, and our
+orders were to take as many prisoners as possible, hold the trench
+for half an hour, do as much damage as we could, and then return. A
+covering barrage was put down, and over we went, one hundred strong.
+
+We got into Jerry's trench all right, but, owing to the many dug-outs
+and tunnels, we could only find a few Germans, and these, having no
+time to bolt underground, got out of the trench and ran to take cover
+behind the kilns and brick-stacks.
+
+And then the fun began. While the main party of us got to work in the
+trench, a few made after the men who had run into the brick-fields, and
+it was a case of hide and seek, round and round and in and out of the
+kilns and brick-stacks.
+
+Despite the seriousness of the situation, one chap, a Cockney, entered
+so thoroughly into the spirit of the thing that when, after a lengthy
+chase, he at last clapped a German on the shoulder, he shouted, "You're
+'e!"--_E. W. Fellows, M.M. (late 6th D.C.L.I.), 35 Dunlace Road,
+Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Too Much for his Imagination
+
+In the platoon of cyclists I was posted to on the outbreak of war was
+a Cockney--a "Charlie Chaplin" without the funny feet. If there was a
+funny side to a thing, he saw it.
+
+One day, on the advance, just before the battle of the Marne, our
+platoon was acting as part of the left flank guard when a number of
+enemy cavalry were seen advancing over a ridge, some distance away. We
+were ordered to dismount and extend. We numbered about sixteen, so our
+line was not a long one.
+
+A prominent object was pointed out to us, judged at about 150 yards
+away, and orders were given not to fire until the enemy reached that
+spot.
+
+We could see that we were greatly outnumbered, and having to wait for
+them to reach that spot seemed to double the suspense. Our leader was
+giving commands one second and talking like a father the next. He said,
+"Keep cool; each take a target; show them you are British. You have as
+good a chance as they, and although they are superior in numbers they
+have no other superior quality. I want you just to imagine that you
+are on the range again, firing for your pay." Then our Cockney Charlie
+chimed in with: "Yes, but we ain't got no bloomin' markers."--_S. Leggs
+(late Rifle Brigade and Cyclists), 33 New Road, Grays, Essex._
+
+
+"Currants" for Bunn
+
+After we had taken part in the advance on the Somme in August 1916 my
+battalion was ordered to rest at Bazentin.
+
+We had only been there a day or so when we were ordered to relieve
+the Tyneside Scottish who were badly knocked about. Hardly had we
+reached the front lines, when a little Cockney named Bunn (we never
+knew how he carried his pack, he was so small) got hit. We called for
+stretcher-bearers.
+
+When they put him on the stretcher and were carrying him down the line,
+a doctor asked him his name. The Cockney looked up with a smile and
+answered: "Bunn, sir, and the blighters have put some currants into me
+this time." This gallant Cockney died afterwards.--_J. E. Cully (late
+13th King's Royal Rifles), 76 Milkwood Road, S.E.24._
+
+
+The Driver to his Horse
+
+The artillery driver's affection for his own particular pair of
+horses is well known. Our battery, in a particularly unhealthy spot
+in front of Zillebeke, in the Salient, had run out of ammunition, and
+the terrible state of the ground thereabout in the autumn of 1917
+necessitated the use of pack-horses to "deliver the goods," and even
+then it was accomplished with difficulty.
+
+A little Cockney driver with a pair named Polly and Bill had loaded
+up and was struggling through the mire. Three times Bill had dragged
+him on to his knees and up to his waist in the slush when a big Fritz
+shell dropped uncomfortably near. Polly, with a mighty rear, threw the
+Cockney on to his back and, descending, struck him with a hoof.
+
+Fed up to the teeth and desperate, he struggled to his feet, covered
+from head to feet in slime, and, clenching his fist, struck at the
+trembling and frightened horse, unloading a brief but very vivid
+description of its pedigree and probable future.
+
+Then, cooling off, he began to pacify the mare, apologised, and
+pardoned her vice by saying, "Never mind, ole gal--I didn't mean ter
+bash yer! I fought the uvver one was hot stuff, but, strike me pink,
+you don't seem _'ooman_!"--_G. Newell (ex-Sergt., R.F.A.), 22 Queen
+Road, St. Albans._
+
+
+Two Kinds of "Shorts"
+
+August 1916, Delville Wood. We had been brought specially from rest
+camp to take the remainder of the wood, which was being stoutly
+contested by the Germans and was holding up our advance. The usual
+barrage, and over we went, and were met by the Germans standing on top
+of their trenches. A fierce bombing fight began. The scrap lasted a
+long time, but at last we charged and captured the trench.
+
+[Illustration: "Yus, yer needn't stare--I'm real."]
+
+One of our men, quite a small Cockney, captured a German about twice
+his own size. The German was so surprised at being captured by a person
+so insignificant looking that he stood and stared. Our Cockney, seeing
+his amazement, said: "Yus, yer needn't stare, I'm real, and wot's more,
+I got a good mind ter punch yer under the blinkin' ear fer spoiling me
+rest!"--_F. M. Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Batt. D.C.L.I), 33
+Dunlace Road, Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+Mespot--On 99 Years' Lease
+
+I was in Mesopotamia from 1916 till 1920, and after the Armistice was
+signed there was still considerable trouble with the Arabs.
+
+In the summer of 1919 I, with a party of 23 other R.A.S.C. men, was
+surrounded by the Arabs at an outpost that was like a small fort. We
+had taken up supplies for troops stationed there. There were about 100
+Indian soldiers, and a few British N.C.O.'s in charge.
+
+It was no use "running the gauntlet." We were on a hill and kept the
+Arabs at bay all day, also the next night.
+
+The next day all was quiet again, but in the afternoon an Arab rode
+into the camp on horseback with a message, which he gave to the first
+Tommy he saw. It happened to be one of our fellows, a proper Cockney.
+He read the message--written in English--requesting us to surrender.
+
+Our Cockney pal said a few kind words to the Arab, and decided to send
+a message back.
+
+He wrote this on the back of the paper: "Sorry, Mr. Shake. We have
+only just taken the place, and we have got it on 99 years' lease.
+Yours faithfully, Old Bill and Co., Ltd., London."--_W. Thurgood (late
+R.A.S.C., M.T.), 46 Maldon Road, Southend-on-Sea, Essex._
+
+
+"Fro Something at Them!"
+
+There was a certain divisional commander in France who enjoyed a
+popularity that was almost unique. He was quite imperturbable, whatever
+the situation.
+
+Unfortunately, he had an impediment in his speech, and when first one
+met him he was difficult to understand. But heaven help anyone who
+asked him to repeat anything. A light would come into his eye, and he
+would seize hold of his victim by the shoulder-strap and heave and tug
+till it came off.
+
+"You'll understand me," he would say, "when I tell you your
+shoulder-strap is undone!"
+
+The Division he commanded had just put up a wonderful fight just
+south of Arras in the March '18 show, and, having suffered very heavy
+casualties, were taken out of the line and put into a cushy front next
+door to the Portuguese.
+
+The morning after they took over the Germans launched a heavy attack
+on the Portuguese, who withdrew somewhat hurriedly, so that the whole
+flank of the British division was open.
+
+The general was sitting eating his breakfast--he had been roused at
+six by the bombardment--when an excited orderly came into the room and
+reported that the Germans had got right in behind the Division and were
+now actually in the garden of the general's chateau.
+
+The general finished drinking his cup of coffee, the orderly still
+standing to attention, waiting instructions.
+
+"Then you had better 'fro' something at them--or shoo them away," said
+the general.--_F. A. P., Cavalry Club, Piccadilly, W._
+
+
+Missed his Mouth-organ
+
+During the Battle of the Somme our trench-mortar battery was going back
+after a few days' rest. It was very dark and raining. As we neared our
+destination it appeared that Jerry and our chaps were having a real
+argument.
+
+We were going up a road called "Queen's Hollow." Jerry was enfilading
+us on both sides, and a rare bombing fight was going on at the farther
+end of the Hollow--seventy or a hundred yards in front of us. We were
+expecting to feel the smack of a bullet any moment, and there was a
+terrible screeching and bursting of shells, with a few "Minnies" thrown
+in. We were in a fine pickle, and I had just about had enough when
+my pal (a lad from "The Smoke") nearly put me on my back by stopping
+suddenly.
+
+"I don't like this, Bomb," he said.
+
+"What's wrong with you? Get on," I replied, "or we'll all be blown sky
+high."
+
+"Oh, all right," he said, "but I wish I'd brought me mouf orgin. I
+could then have livened fings up a bit."--_"Bombardier" (R.A.), late
+T.M.B., 7th Division._
+
+
+Water-cooled
+
+There must be at least six men still alive who remember a certain
+affair at Kemmel. During the latter part of April 1918 our machine
+gunners had been having a bad time, and one old Cockney sergeant found
+himself and his party isolated miles in front of our line.
+
+The cool way in which he gave orders, as he told his men to make
+their way back--lying down for a bit, then making a run for another
+shelter--would have been humorous if conditions had not been so
+terrifying.
+
+He himself kept his gun working to protect their retreat, and when
+he saw they had reached a place of safety he picked up his gun and
+rejoined them unhurt.
+
+One of his men, describing the action afterwards, said, "Carried his
+gun three miles--wouldn't part with it--and the first thing he did when
+he was able to settle down quietly was to start cleaning the blessed
+thing!"--_H. R. Tanner, "Romsdal," Newton Ferrers, S. Devon._
+
+
+Top-hatted Piper of Mons
+
+During the retreat from Mons it was a case of "going while the going
+was good" until called upon to make a stand to harass the enemy's
+advance.
+
+After the stand at Le Cateau, bad and blistered feet caused many to
+stop by the wayside. Among these, in passing with my little squad,
+I noticed a piper belonging to a Scottish regiment sitting with his
+blistered feet exposed and his pipes lying beside him. Staff officers
+were continually riding back and urging the parties of stragglers to
+make an effort to push on before they were overtaken.
+
+In the late afternoon of this same day, having myself come up with my
+unit, I was resting on the roadside when I heard the skirl of bagpipes.
+Before long there came into sight, marching with a fair swing, too,
+as motley a throng as one ever saw in the King's uniform. Headed by a
+staff officer were about 150 men of all regiments with that same piper,
+hatless and with one stocking, in front.
+
+Beside him was a Cockney of the Middlesex Regiment, with a silk hat
+on his head, whose cheeks threatened to burst as he churned out the
+strains of "Alexander's Rag-time Band" on the bagpipes. Being a bit
+of a piper himself, he was giving "Jock" a lift and was incidentally
+the means of fetching this little band away from the clutches of the
+enemy.--_"Buster" Brown (late Bedfordshire Regt.), Hertford._
+
+
+Two Heads and a Bullet
+
+Early in 1916 ten of us were going up with rations--chiefly bread and
+water. In one part of the trench there were no duckboards and the vile
+mud was thigh-deep.
+
+Here we abandoned the trench and stumbled along, tripping over barbed
+wire and falling headlong into shell-holes half-full of icy water.
+
+A German sniper was at work. Suddenly a bullet pinged midway between
+the last two of the party.
+
+"Hear that?" said No. 9. "Right behind my neck!"
+
+"Yes," replied No. 10, "right in front of my bloomin' nose!"--_C. A.
+Davies (late 23rd R. Fusiliers), 85 Saxton Street, Gillingham, Kent._
+
+
+Spoiling the Story
+
+We were billeted in the upper room of a corner house north of Albert,
+and were listening to "Spoofer's" memories of days "dahn Walworf way."
+
+"Yus," he said, "I ses to the gal, 'Two doorsteps an' a bloater.'"
+
+At that moment a "coal-box" caught the corner of the house, bringing
+down the angle of the wall and three-parts of the floor on which we had
+squatted.
+
+Except for bruises, none of us was injured, and when the dust subsided
+we saw "Spoofer" looking down at us from a bit of the flooring that
+remained intact.
+
+"Yus," he continued, as though nothing had happened, "as I was saying,
+I'd just called fer the bloater...."
+
+Came another "coal-box," which shook down the remainder of the floor
+and with it "Spoofer."
+
+Struggling to his hands and knees, he said, "Blimey, the blinkin'
+bloater's cold nah."--_F. Lates, 62 St. Ervan's Road, North
+Kensington._
+
+
+Afraid of Dogs
+
+Towards the end of October 1918 I was out on patrol in front of Tournai
+on a dark, windy night. I had a Cockney private with me, and we were
+some distance from our lines when we heard a dog barking. All at once,
+before I could stop him, the Cockney whistled it.
+
+I threw the Cockney down and dropped myself. A German Verey light went
+up--followed by a hail of machine-gun bullets in our direction. As the
+light spread out, we saw the dog fastened to a German machine-gun! We
+lay very still, and presently, when things had quietened down, we slid
+cautiously backwards until it was safe to get up.
+
+All the Cockney said was, "Crikey, corp, I had the wind up. A blinkin'
+good job that there dawg was chained up. Why? 'Cause 'e might 'ave
+bitten us. I allus was afeard o' dawgs."--_J. Milsun (late 1/5th
+Battn., The King's Own 55th Div.), 31 Collingwood Road, Lexden,
+Colchester._
+
+
+The Song of Battle
+
+At the first Gaza battle we had to advance 1,700 yards across a plain
+in full view of the Turks, who hurled a terrific barrage at us. We were
+in artillery formation, and we marched up until within rifle range.
+With machine guns and artillery the Turks were depleting our ranks, so
+that less than half of us were still marching on at 500 yards range.
+
+In my section was the Cockney "funny man" of the company. When things
+were bad, and we were all wondering how long we would survive, he began
+singing lustily a song which someone had sung at our last concert party
+behind the lines, the refrain of which was "I've never heard of anybody
+dying from kissing, have you?"
+
+Before he had started on the second line nearly everyone was singing
+with him, and men were killed singing that song. To the remainder of us
+it acted like a tonic.
+
+Good old Jack, when he was wounded later he must have been in terrible
+pain, yet he joked so that at first we would not believe he was
+seriously hit. He shouted, "Where is 'e?--let me get at 'im."--_J. T.
+Jones (late 54th Division), 37 Whittaker Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+Stalls at "Richthofen's Circus"
+
+A New Zealander was piloting an old F.E. 2B (pusher) 'plane up and down
+over the lines, observing for the artillery, when he got caught by
+"Richthofen's Circus."
+
+The petrol tank behind the pilot's seat was set on fire and burning oil
+poured past him into the observer's cockpit ahead and the clothes of
+both men started to sizzle.
+
+They were indeed in a warm situation, their one hope being to dive into
+Zillebeke Lake, which the New Zealander noticed below. By the time they
+splashed into the water machine and men were in flames; and, moreover,
+when they came up the surface surrounding them was aflame with the
+burning oil.
+
+Treading water desperately and ridding themselves of their heavy sodden
+flying coats, they made a last bid for life by swimming under water,
+that flaming water, and at last, half-dead, reached the bank.
+
+There a strong arm gripped the New Zealander by the scruff of the neck
+and he was hauled to safety, dimly aware of a hoarse voice complaining
+bitterly, "Ours is the best hid battery in this sector, the only
+unspotted battery. You _would_ choose just 'ere to land, wouldn't yer,
+and give the bloomin' show away?"
+
+Our Cockney battery sergeant-major had, no doubt, never heard of Hobson
+or his choice.--_E. H. Orton, 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden City, Herts._
+
+
+"Butter-Fingers!"
+
+A Cockney infantryman of the 47th Division was on the fire-step on the
+night preceding the attack at Loos. He was huddled up in a ground-sheet
+trying to keep cheerful in the drizzle.
+
+Suddenly a British 12-in. shell passed over him, and as he heard its
+slow rumble he muttered, "Catch that one, you blighters."
+
+Just then it burst, and with a chuckle he added, "Oh, butter-fingers,
+yer dropped it!"--_Henry J. Tuck (late Lt., R.G.A.)._
+
+
+Getting into Hot Water
+
+We were in the front line, and one evening a Battersea lad and myself
+were ordered to go and fetch tea for the company from the cook-house,
+which was in Bluff Trench. It was about a mile from the line down a
+"beautiful" duckboard track.
+
+With the boiling tea strapped to our backs in big containers, both
+of which leaked at the nozzles, we started for the line. Then Jerry
+started sniping at us. There came from the line a sergeant, who
+shouted, "Why don't you lads duck?" "That's right," replied my chum.
+"D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded to death?"--_H. G. Harrap (23rd
+London Regiment), 25 Renfrew Road, S.E._
+
+[Illustration: "D'yer fink we wants ter be scalded ter death?"]
+
+
+
+
+2. LULL
+
+
+Rate of Exchange--on Berlin
+
+With four Cockney comrades of the Rifle Brigade, during 1915 at
+Fleurbaix, I was indulging in a _quiet_ game of nap in the front line.
+
+One man dropped out, "broke to the wide." Being an enthusiastic card
+player, he offered various articles for sale, but could find no buyers.
+At last he offered to _find_ a Jerry prisoner and sell him for a franc.
+
+He was absent for some time, but eventually turned up with his hostage,
+and, the agreement being duly honoured, he recommenced his game with
+his fresh capital.
+
+All the players came through alive, their names being J. Cullison, F.
+Bones, A. White, W. Deer (the first-named playing leading part), and
+myself.--_F. J. Chapman (late 11th Batt. Rifle Brigade), 110 Beckton
+Road, Victoria Docks, E.16._
+
+
+A Hen Coup
+
+During the retreat from Mons strict orders were issued against looting.
+One day an officer, coming round a corner, discovered a stalwart
+Cockney Tommy in the act of wringing the neck of an inoffensive-looking
+chicken. The moment the Tommy caught sight of his officer he was heard
+to murmur to the chicken, "Would yer, yer brute!" Quite obviously,
+therefore, the deed had been done in self-defence.--_The Rev. T. K.
+Lowdell, Church of St. Augustine, Lillie Road, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+A "Baa-Lamb" in the Trenches
+
+The "dug-out" was really a hole scraped in the side of a trench leading
+up to the front line and some 50 yards from it. It was October '16 on
+the Somme, after the weather had broken. The trench was about two feet
+deep in liquid mud--a delightful thoroughfare for runners and other
+unfortunate ones who had to use it.
+
+The officer in the dug-out heard the _splosh--splosh--splosh_ ... of a
+single passenger coming up the trench. As the splosher drew abreast the
+dug-out the officer heard him declaiming to himself: "Baa! baa! I'm a
+blinkin' lamb lorst in the ruddy wilderness. Baa! baa!..."
+
+And when the bleating died away the _splosh--splosh--splosh_ ... grew
+fainter too, as the "lamb" was lost in the night.--_L. W. Martinnant,
+64 Thornsbeach Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+He Coloured
+
+When serving with the Artists' Rifles in France we went into the line
+to relieve the "Nelsons" of the 63rd (Royal Naval) Division.
+
+As I was passing one of their men, a regular "Ole Bill," who was seated
+on the fire-step, I heard him say, "Artists' Rifles, eh; I wonder if
+any of you chaps would _paint_ me a plate of 'am and eggs!"--_R. C.
+Toogood, 43 Richmond Park Avenue, Bournemouth._
+
+
+Why the Fat Man Laughed
+
+During the winter of 1914-15 the trenches were just like canals of
+sloppy mud, and dug-outs were always falling in. To repair the dug-outs
+pit-props were used, but they often had to be carried great distances
+up communication trenches, and were very difficult to handle. The most
+popular way to carry a prop was to rest one end on the left shoulder of
+one man and the other end on the right shoulder of the man behind.
+
+On one occasion the leading man was short and fat, and the rear man was
+tall and thin. Suddenly the front man slipped and the prop fell down
+in the mud and splashed the thin man from head to foot. To add to his
+discomfort the little fat man gave a hearty laugh.
+
+"Can't see anything to larf at, mate," said the mud-splashed hero,
+looking down at himself.
+
+"I'm larfing," said the little fat Cockney, "'cos I've just remembered
+that I tipped the recruiting sergeant a bloomin' tanner to put me name
+down fust on his list so as I'd get out here quick."--_A. L. Churchill
+(late Sergt., Worcs. Regt.), 6 Long Lane, Blackheath, Staffs._
+
+
+He Met Shackleton!
+
+The troops in North Russia, in the winter of 1918-19, were equipped
+with certain additional articles of clothing designed on the same
+principles as those used on Antarctic expeditions. Among these were
+what were known as "Shackleton boots," large canvas boots with thick
+leather soles. These boots were not at all suitable for walking on hard
+snow, being very clumsy, and they were very unpopular with everyone.
+
+The late Sir Ernest Shackleton was sent out by the War Office to give
+advice on matters of clothing, equipment, and so on. When he arrived at
+Archangel he went up to a sentry whose beat was in front of a warehouse
+about three steps up from the road, and said to him, "Well, my man,
+what do you think of the Shackleton boot?"
+
+To this the sentry replied: "If I could only meet the perishing
+blighter wot invented them I'd very soon show----"
+
+Before he could complete the sentence his feet, clad in the ungainly
+boots, slipped on the frozen snow, and slithering down the steps on
+his back, he shot into Sir Ernest and the two of them completed the
+discussion on Shackleton boots rolling over in the snow!--_K. D.,
+Elham, near Canterbury._
+
+
+Domestic Scene: Scene, Bethune
+
+Near the front line at Bethune in I917 was a farm which had been
+evacuated by the tenants, but there were still some cattle and other
+things on it. We were, of course, forbidden to touch them.
+
+One day we missed one of our fellows, a Cockney, for about two hours,
+and guessed he was on the "scrounge" somewhere or other.
+
+[Illustration: "... only taking the kid and the dawg for a bit of a
+blow."]
+
+Eventually he was seen coming down the road pushing an old-fashioned
+pram loaded with cabbages, and round his waist there was a length of
+rope, to the other end of which was tied an old cow.
+
+You can imagine what a comical sight it was, but the climax came when
+he was challenged by the corporal, "Where the devil have you been?"
+"Me?" he replied innocently. "I only bin takin' the kid and the dawg
+for a bit of a blow."--_A. Rush (late 4th Batt. R. Fus.), 27 Milton
+Road, Wimbledon._
+
+
+Getting Their Bearings
+
+It was on the Loos front. One night a party of us were told off for
+reconnoitring. On turning back about six of us, with our young officer,
+missed our way and, after creeping about for some 15 minutes, a
+message came down, "Keep very quiet, we are nearly in the German lines."
+
+I passed on the message to the chap behind me, who answered in anything
+but a whisper, "Thank 'eaven we know where we are at last."--_H. Hutton
+(late 16th Lancers, attached Engineers), Marlborough Road, Upper
+Holloway._
+
+
+High Tea
+
+During the winter of 1917-18 I was serving with my battery of Field
+Artillery in Italy. We had posted to us a draft of drivers just out
+from home, and one of them, seeing an observation balloon for the first
+time, asked an old driver what it was.
+
+"Oh, that," replied the old hand, who hailed from Hackney--"that is
+the Air Force canteen!"--_M. H. Cooke (late "B" Battery, 72nd Brigade,
+R.F.A.), Regency Street, Westminster._
+
+
+Lots in a Name
+
+Salonika, mid-autumn, and torrents of rain. The battalion, changing
+over to another front, had trekked all through the night. An hour
+before dawn a halt was called to bivouac on the reverse slope of a hill
+until the journey could be completed in the darkness of the following
+night.
+
+Orderlies from each platoon were collecting blankets from their company
+pack mules. Last of them all was a diminutive Cockney, who staggered
+off in the darkness with his load perched on his head. Slowly and
+laboriously, slipping backwards at almost every step, he stumbled
+and slithered up hill in the ankle-deep mud. Presently he paused for
+breath, and took advantage of the opportunity to relieve his feelings
+in these well-chosen words: "All I can say is, the bloke as christened
+this 'ere perishin' place Greece was about blinking well right."--_P.
+H. T. (26th Division)._
+
+
+Gunga Din the Second
+
+After the battle of Shaikh Sa'Ad in Mesopotamia in January 1916 more
+than 300 wounded were being transported down the Tigris to Basra in a
+steamer and on open barges lashed on either side of it. Many suffered
+from dysentery as well as wounds--and it was raining.
+
+There appeared to be only one Indian bhisti (water-carrier), an old
+man over 60 years of age, to attend to all. He was nearly demented
+in trying to serve everyone at once. When my severely wounded
+neighbour--from Camberwell, he said--saw the bhisti, his welcome made
+us smile through our miseries.
+
+"Coo! If it ain't old Gunga Din! Wherever 'ave yer bin, me old brown
+son? Does yer muvver know yer aht?"--_A. S. Edwardes (late C.S.M., 1st
+Seaforth Highlanders), West Gate, Royal Hospital, Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+A Fag fer an 'Orse
+
+Late one afternoon towards the end of 1917, on the Cambrai sector,
+enemy counter-attacks had caused confusion behind our lines, and as I
+was walking along a road I met a disconsolate-looking little Cockney
+infantryman leading a large-size horse. He stopped me and said, "Give
+us a fag, mate, and I'll give yer an 'orse."
+
+[Illustration: "Give us a fag and I'll give yer an 'orse."]
+
+I gathered that he had found the horse going spare and was taking it
+along with him for company's sake.--_H. J. Batt (late Royal Fusiliers),
+21 Whitehall Park Road, W.4._
+
+
+Put to Graze
+
+It was at the siege of Kut, when the 13th ("Iron") Division was trying
+to relieve that gallant but hard-pressed body of men under General
+Townshend. Rations had been very low for days, and the battery had been
+digging gun-pits in several positions, till at last we had a change
+of position and "dug in" to stay a bit. What with bad water, digging
+in, and hardly any food, the men were getting fed up generally. An
+order came out to the effect that "A certain bunchy grass (detailed
+explanation) if picked and boiled would make a very nourishing meal."
+One hefty Cockney, "Dusty" Miller, caused a laugh when he vented
+his feelings with "'Struth, and nah we got ter be blinking sheep.
+Baa-Baa!"--_E. J. Bates (late R.F.A.), 37 Ulverscroft Road, E. Dulwich._
+
+
+Smith's Feather Pillow
+
+The boys had "rescued" a few hens from a deserted farm. The morning was
+windy and feathers were scattered in the mud.
+
+Picquet officer (appearing from a corner of the trench): "What's the
+meaning of all these feathers, Brown?"
+
+Brown: "Why, sir, Smiff wrote 'ome sayin' 'e missed 'is 'ome comforts,
+an' 'is ma sent 'im a fevver piller; an' 'e's so mad at our kiddin'
+that 'e's in that dug-out tearin' it to bits."--_John W. Martin, 16
+Eccles Road, Lavender Hill, S.W.11._
+
+
+Bombs and Arithmetic
+
+We were in the trenches in front of Armentieres in the late summer of
+1916. It was a fine, quiet day, with "nothing doing." I was convinced
+that a working party was busy in a section of the German trenches right
+opposite.
+
+Just then "O. C. Stokes" came along with his crew and their little
+trench gun. I told him of my "target," and suggested that he should try
+a shot with his Stokes mortar. Glad of something definite to do, he
+willingly complied.
+
+The Stokes gun was set down on the floor of the trench just behind my
+back, as I stood on the fire-step to observe the shoot.
+
+I gave the range. The gun was loaded. There was a faint pop, a slight
+hiss--then silence. Was the bomb going to burst in the gun and blow us
+all to bits? I glanced round apprehensively. A perfectly calm Cockney
+voice from one of the crew reassured me:
+
+"It's orl right, sir! If it don't go off while yer counts five--_you'll
+know it's a dud!_"--_Capt. T. W. C. Curd (late 20th Northumberland
+Fusiliers), 72 Victoria Street, S.W.1._
+
+
+Help from Hindenburg
+
+I was serving with the M.G.C. at Ecoust. Two men of the Middlesex
+Regiment had been busy for a week digging a sump hole in the exposed
+hollow in front of the village and had excavated to a depth of about
+eight feet. A bombardment which had continued all night became so
+severe about noon of the next day that orders were given for all to
+take what cover was available. It was noticed that the two men were
+still calmly at work in the hole, and I was sent to warn them to take
+shelter. They climbed out, and as we ran over the hundred yards which
+separated us from the trench a high explosive shell landed right in
+the hole we had just left, converting it into a huge crater. One of
+the men turned to me and said, "Lumme, mate, if old Hindenburg ain't
+been and gone and finished the blooming job for us!"--_J. S. F.,
+Barnet, Herts._
+
+
+Raised his Voice--And the Dust
+
+In the early part of 1917, while the Germans were falling back to the
+Hindenburg line on the Somme, trench warfare was replaced by advanced
+outposts for the time being. Rations were taken up to the company
+headquarters on mules.
+
+[Illustration: "S'sh. For 'eaven's sake be quiet."]
+
+Another C.Q.M.S. and I were going up with mules one night and lost our
+way. We wandered on until a voice from a shell-hole challenged us.
+_We had passed the company headquarters and landed among the advanced
+outposts._
+
+The chap implored us to be quiet, and just as we turned back one of the
+mules chose to give the Germans a sample of his vocal abilities.
+
+The outpost fellow told us what he thought of us. The transport chap
+leading the mule pulled and tugged, using kind, gentle words as drivers
+do.
+
+And in the midst of it all my C.Q.M.S. friend walked up to the mule,
+holding his hands up, and whispered: "S-sh! For 'eaven's sake be
+quiet."--_F. W. Piper (ex-Sherwood Foresters), 30 The Crescent,
+Watford, Herts._
+
+
+Mademoiselle from--Palestine
+
+After the fall of Gaza our battalion, on occupying a Jewish colony in
+the coastal sector which had just been evacuated by the Turks, received
+a great ovation from the overjoyed inhabitants.
+
+[Illustration: "Mademoiselle from Ah-my-Tears."]
+
+One of our lads, born well within hearing of Bow Bells, was effusively
+greeted by a Hebrew lady of uncertain age, who warmly embraced him and
+kissed him on each cheek.
+
+Freeing himself, and gesticulating in the approved manner, he turned to
+us and said: "Strike me pink! Mademoiselle from Ah-my-tears."--_Edward
+Powell, 80 Cavendish Road, Kentish Town, N.W._
+
+
+"Ally Toot Sweet"
+
+At the latter end of September 1914 the 5th Division was moving
+from the Aisne to La Bassee and a halt was made in the region of
+Crepy-en-Valois, where a large enemy shell was found (dud).
+
+[Illustration: "Ally toot sweet. If this shell goes orf...."]
+
+A Cockney private was posted to keep souvenir hunters from tampering
+with it. When he received his dinner he sat straddle-legged on the
+shell, admired by a few French children, whom he proceeded to address
+as follows: "Ally! Toot sweet, or you'll get blown to 'ell if this
+blinkin' shell goes orf."--_E. P. Ferguson, "Brecon," Fellows Road, S.
+Farnborough, Hants._
+
+
+Luckier than the Prince
+
+In the autumn of 1916, while attending to the loading of ammunition at
+Minden Post, a driver suddenly exclaimed, "'Struth, Quarter; who's the
+boy officer with all the ribbons up?"
+
+Glancing up, I recognised the Prince of Wales, quite unattended,
+pushing a bicycle through the mud.
+
+When I told the driver who the officer really was, the reply came
+quickly: "Blimey, I'm better off than he is; they _have_ given me a
+horse to ride."--_H. J. Adams (ex.--B.Q.M.S., R.F.A.), Highclare,
+Station Road, Hayes, Middlesex._
+
+
+A Jerry he _Couldn't_ Kill
+
+During a patrol in No Man's Land at Flesquieres we were between a
+German patrol and their front line, but eventually we were able to get
+back. I went to our Lewis gun post and told them Jerry had a patrol
+out. I was told: "One German came dahn 'ere last night--full marchin'
+order." "Didn't you ask him in?" I said. "No. Told him to get out of
+it. You can't put a Lewis gun on one man going on leave," was the
+reply.--_C. G. Welch, 109 Sayer Street, S.E.17._
+
+
+"Q" for Quinine
+
+In the autumn of 1917, on the Salonika front, we were very often
+short of bread, sugar, etc., the reason, we were told by the
+Quartermaster-Sergeant, being that the boats were continually sunk.
+
+At this time the "quinine parade" was strictly enforced, because of
+malaria, which was very prevalent.
+
+One day we were lined up for our daily dose, which was a very strong
+and unpleasant one, when one of our drivers, a bit of a wag, was heard
+to say to the M.O.: "Blimey! the bread boat goes dahn, the beef boat
+goes dahn, the rum and sugar boat goes dahn, but the perishin' quinine
+boat always gets 'ere."--_R. Ore (100 Brigade, R.F.A.), 40 Lansdowne
+Road, Tottenham, N.17._
+
+
+Blinkin' Descendant of Nebuchadnezzar
+
+While stationed at Pozieres in 1917 I was mate to our Cockney cook,
+who, according to Army standards, was something of an expert in the
+culinary art.
+
+One day a brass hat from H.Q., who was visiting the unit, entered the
+mess to inquire about the food served to the troops.
+
+"They 'as stew, roast, or boiled, wiv spuds and pudden to follow," said
+cook, bursting with pride.
+
+"Do you give them any vegetables?" asked the officer.
+
+"No, sir, there ain't none issued in the rations."
+
+"No vegetables! What do you mean?--there are tons growing about here
+waiting to be picked. Look at all those dandelions--they make splendid
+greens. See that some are put in the stew to-morrow." With which
+illuminating information he retired.
+
+Followed a few moments' dead silence. Then the Cockney recovered from
+the shock.
+
+"Lumme, mate, what did 'e say? Dandelions? 'E must be a blinkin'
+descendant of Nebuchadnezzar!"--_R. J. Tiney (late Sapper, R.E.
+Signals, 10th Corps), 327 Green Lanes, Finsbury Park, N._
+
+
+Well-Cut Tailoring
+
+Back from a spell behind Ypres in 1915, a few of us decided to scrounge
+round for a hair-cut. We found a shop which we thought was a barber's,
+but it turned out to be a tailor's. We found out afterwards!
+
+[Illustration: "My old girl will swear I bin in fer a stretch...."]
+
+Still, the old Frenchman made a good job of it--just as though someone
+had shaved our heads. My Cockney pal, when he discovered the truth,
+exclaimed: "Strike, if I go 'ome like this my old girl will swear I bin
+in fer a stretch."--_F. G. Webb (late Corpl., Middlesex Regiment), 38
+Andover Road, Twickenham._
+
+
+Evacuating "Darby and Joan"
+
+Things were going badly with the town of Albert, and all day the
+inhabitants had been streaming from the town. On horse, on foot, and in
+all manner of conveyances they hastened onwards....
+
+Towards evening, when the bombardment was at its height and the roads
+were being plastered with shells, an old man tottered into sight
+pulling a crazy four-wheeled cart in which, perched amidst a pile of
+household goods, sat a tiny, withered lady of considerable age. As the
+couple reached the point where I was standing, the old man's strength
+gave out and he collapsed between the shafts.
+
+It seemed all up with them, as the guns were already registering on the
+only exit from the town when, thundering round a bend in the road, came
+a transport limber with driver and spare man. On seeing the plight of
+the old people, the driver pulled up, dismounted and, together with his
+partner, surveyed the situation.
+
+"What are we going to do with Darby and Joan?" asked the driver. "We
+can't get them and all their clobber in the limber and, if I know 'em,
+they won't be parted from their belongings."
+
+"'Ook 'em on the back," replied the spare man. Sure enough, the old man
+was lifted into the limber and the old lady's four-wheeler tied on the
+back.
+
+Off they went at the gallop, the old lady's conveyance dragging like
+a canoe in the wake of the _Mauretania_. The heroic Cockney driver,
+forcing his team through the din and debris of the bombardment, was
+now oblivious to the wails of distress; his mind was back on his duty;
+he had given the old people a chance of living a little longer--that
+was all he could do: and so he turned a deaf ear to the squeals and
+lamentations that each fresh jolt and swerve wrung from the terrified
+antiquity he was towing.
+
+Shells dropped all around them on their career through the town until
+it seemed that they must "go under." However, they appeared again
+and again, after each cloud cleared, and in the end I saw the little
+cavalcade out of the town and danger.--_N. E. Crawshaw (late 15th
+London Regt.), 4 Mapleton Road, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+"Why ain't the Band Playing?"
+
+I served with the 11th London Regiment in Palestine. One day our
+officer paid us a visit at dinner-time to find out if there were any
+complaints. While we were endeavouring to find the meat at the bottom
+of the spoilt water we heard a voice say: "Any complaints?" One of the
+platoon, not seeing the officer, thought the remark was a joke, so he
+replied, "Yes, why ain't the band playing?" On realising it was an
+official request he immediately corrected himself and said: "Sorry,
+sir, no complaints."
+
+I rather think the officer enjoyed the remark.--_F. G. Palmer, 29
+Dumbarton Road, Brixton, S.W.2._
+
+
+His Deduction
+
+Our battalion, fresh from home, all nicely groomed and with new kit,
+stepped out whistling "Tipperary." We were on the road to Loos.
+Presently towards us came a pathetic procession of wounded men
+struggling back, some using their rifles as crutches.
+
+Our whistling had ceased; some faces had paled. Not a word was spoken
+for quite a while, until my Cockney pal broke the silence, remarking,
+"Lumme, I reckon there's been a bit of a row somewhere."--_Charles
+Phillips (late Middlesex Regt.), 108 Grosvenor Road, Ilford._
+
+
+Peter in the Pool
+
+We had advanced beyond the German first line in the big push of '18.
+The rain was heavy, the mud was deep; we had not quite dug in beyond
+"shallow," and rations had not come up--altogether a most dismal
+prospect.
+
+Quite near to us was a small pool of water which we all attempted to
+avoid when passing to and fro. Suddenly there was a yell and much
+cursing--the Cockney of the company, complete with his equipment, had
+fallen into the pool.
+
+After recovering dry ground he gazed at the pool in disgust and said,
+"Fancy a fing like that trying to drahn a bloke wiv a name like
+Peter."--_J. Carlton, Bayswater Court, St. Stephen's Court, W.2._
+
+
+Where "Movie" Shows Cost Soap
+
+We landed in North Russia in June 1918. We were piloted in on the _City
+of Marseilles_ to a jetty. We did not know the name of the place. On
+the jetty we saw from the boat a British marine on sentry duty. We
+shouted down to him, "Where are we, mate?" He answered "Murmansk."
+
+We asked, "What sort of place," and he shouted, "Lumme, you've come to
+a blighted 'ole 'ere. They 'ave one picture palace and the price of
+admission is a bar of soap."--_M. C. Oliver (late Corporal R.A.F.), 99,
+Lealand Road, Stamford Hill, N.16._
+
+
+Sherlock Holmes in the Desert
+
+In the autumn of 1917, when training for the attack on Beersheba, in
+Palestine, we were encamped in bivouacs in the desert.
+
+The chief meal of the day was served in the cool of the evening and
+more often than not consisted of bully beef stew.
+
+One evening the Orderly Officer approached the dixie, looked into it,
+and seeing it half full of the usual concoction, remarked, "H'm, stew
+this evening."
+
+At once there came a voice, that of a Cockney tailor, from the nearest
+bivouac--"My dear Watson!"--_R. S. H. (late 16th County of London
+Q.W.R.), Purley, Surrey._
+
+
+The Army "Loops the Loop"
+
+The road from Jerusalem to Jericho was very bad, and if you went too
+close to the edge you were likely to go over the precipice; indeed,
+many lives were lost in this way.
+
+[Illustration: "I'll bet I'm the first bloke to loop the loop in a
+lorry."]
+
+One day a lorry toppled over and fell at least a hundred feet. When the
+rescuers got down to it, expecting to find a mangled corpse, they were
+surprised to hear a well-known Cockney voice from under the debris,
+exclaiming: "Blimey, I'll bet I'm the first bloke in the whole Army
+wot's looped the loop in a motor-lorry."--_Sidney H. Rothschild, York
+Buildings, Adelphi, W.C.2._
+
+
+Repartee on the Ridge
+
+While on the Vimy Ridge sector I was going one dark night across the
+valley towards the front line when I lost my way among the mud and
+shell-holes. Hearing voices, I shouted an inquiry as to the whereabouts
+of Gabriel Trench. Back came the reply: "Lummie, mate, I ain't the
+blinkin' harbourmaster!"--_T. Gillespie (late Mining Company, R.E.),
+London._
+
+
+A New Kind of "Missing"
+
+A battalion of the 47th London Division was making its first journey to
+the front line at Givenchy.
+
+As we were proceeding from Bethune by the La Bassee Canal we passed
+another crowd of the same Division who had just been relieved. We
+were naturally anxious to know what it was like "up there," and the
+following conversation took place in passing:
+
+"What's it like, mate?"
+
+"All right."
+
+"Had any casualties?"
+
+"Yes, mate, two wounded, and a bloke lost 'is 'at."--_F. G. Nawton,
+(ex-Major 15th Batt. M.G.C., 2 Kenton Park Road, Kenton, Middlesex)._
+
+
+And it Started with a Hen Raid!
+
+While we were behind the line in March 1918 some chickens were stolen
+from the next village and traced to our billet by the feathers.
+
+As the culprits could not be found our O.C. punished the whole company
+by stopping our leave for six months.
+
+A few days later we "moved up" just as Jerry broke through further
+south. The orderly sergeant one night read out orders, which finished
+up with Sir Douglas Haig's famous dispatch ending with the words:
+"All leave is now stopped throughout the Army till further orders."
+Thereupon a tousled head emerged from a blanket on the floor with this
+remark: "Blimey, they mean to find out who pinched those blinking
+chickens."--_J. Slack, 157 Engadine Street, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+"I'm a Water-Lily"
+
+This incident took place on the Neuve Chapelle front early in 1916.
+
+Our platoon was known as the "Divisional Drainers," for it was our job
+to keep the trenches as free from water as possible.
+
+One day, while we were working in a very exposed drain about three feet
+deep, Jerry was unusually active with his whizz-bangs, and we were
+repeatedly shelled off the job. During one of our periodical "dives"
+for cover, one of the boys (a native of Canning Town) happened to be
+"left at the post," and instead of gaining a dry shelter was forced to
+fling himself in the bottom of the drain, which had over two feet of
+weedy water in it.
+
+Just as he reappeared, with weeds and things clinging to his head and
+shoulders, an officer came to see if we were all safe.
+
+On seeing our weed-covered chum he stopped and said, "What's the
+matter, Johnson? Got the wind up?"
+
+Johnson, quick as lightning, replied, "No, sir; camouflage. I'm a
+water-lily."--_F. Falcuss (late 19th Batt. N.F.), 51, Croydon Grove,
+West Croydon._
+
+
+Not Knowin' the Language
+
+A team of mules in November 1916 was taking a double limber up to the
+line in pitch darkness on the Bethune-La Bassee road. A heavy strafe
+was on, and the road was heavily shelled at intervals from Beavry
+onwards.
+
+On the limber was a newly-joined padre huddled up, on his way to join
+advanced battalion headquarters. A shell burst 60 yards ahead, and the
+mules reared; some lay down, kicked over the traces, and the wheel pair
+managed to get their legs over the centre pole of the limber.
+
+[Illustration: "Would you mind trekkin' off up the road?"]
+
+There was chaos for a few minutes. Then the padre asked the wheel
+driver in a very small voice, "My man, can I do anything to assist you?"
+
+"Assist us," was the reply. "Yes, you can. Would you mind, sir,
+trekkin' off up the road, so as we can use language these blighters
+understand?"--_L. C. Hoffenden (late 483rd Field Co. R.E.),
+"Waltonhurst," 16 Elmgate Gardens, Edgware._
+
+
+Churning in the Skies
+
+After returning from a night's "egg-laying" on Jerry's transport lines
+and dumps, my brother "intrepid airman" and I decided on tea and toast.
+To melt a tin of ration butter which was of the consistency of glue
+we placed it close to the still hot engine of the plane. Unknown to
+us, owing to the slant of the machine, the tin slipped backwards and
+spilled a goodly proportion of its melted contents over the propeller
+at the back. (Our planes were of the "pusher" type.)
+
+Next day as we strolled into the hangar to look the bus over we found
+our Cockney mechanic, hands on hips, staring at the butter-splattered
+propeller.
+
+"Sufferin' smoke, sir," he said to me, with a twinkle, "wherever was
+you flyin' lars' night--_through the milky way_?"--_Ralph Plummer (late
+102 Squadron R.A.F. Night-Bombers), Granville House, Arundel Street,
+Strand._
+
+
+Larnin' the Mule
+
+[Illustration: "Now p'raps you'll know!"]
+
+On the Somme I saw a Cockney driver having trouble with an obstinate
+mule. At last he got down from his limber and, with a rather vicious
+tug at the near-side rein said, "That's your left," and, tugging the
+off rein, "that's your right--now p'raps you'll know!"--_E. B. (late
+Gunner, R.G.A.), Holloway Road, N.7._
+
+
+"Dr. Livingstone, I Presoom"
+
+Early in 1915 one of our Q.M. Sergeants was sent to Cairo to collect
+a gang of native labourers for work in the brigade lines. Whilst at
+breakfast one morning we saw him return from the train at Ismailia,
+leading a long column of fellaheen (with their wives and children) all
+loaded with huge bundles, boxes, cooking pots, etc., on their heads.
+
+The Q.M.S., who was wearing a big white "solar topi" of the mushroom
+type instead of his regulation military helmet, was greeted outside our
+hut by the R.S.M., and as they solemnly shook hands a Cockney voice
+behind me murmured: "Doctor Livingstone, I presoom?" The picture was
+complete!--_Yeo Blake (1st County of London Yeomanry), Brighton._
+
+
+The Veteran Scored
+
+One morning, while a famous general was travelling around the
+Divisional Headquarters, his eagle eye spotted an old war hero, a
+Londoner, whose fighting days were over, and who now belonged to the
+Labour Corps, busy on road repairs. The fact was also noticed that
+although within the gas danger-zone the old veteran had broken standing
+orders by not working with his gas mask in position.
+
+Accordingly the Corps Commander stopped his car and, getting out,
+started off in his own familiar way as follows:
+
+C. C.: Good morning, my man; do you know who is speaking to you?
+
+O. V.: No, sir!
+
+C. C.: I am your Corps Commander, Sir ----, etc.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I'm pleased to have this opportunity of talking to one of my men.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I see you are putting your back into your work.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: I also notice that you have evidently left your gas mask behind.
+
+O. V.: Yes, sir.
+
+C. C.: Now supposing, my man, a heavy gas cloud was now coming down
+this road towards you. What would you do?
+
+O. V. (after a few moments' pause): Nothing, sir.
+
+C. C.: What! Why not, my good man?
+
+O. V.: Because the wind is the wrong way, sir.
+
+Exit C. C.--_T. J. Gough, Oxford House, 13 Dorset Square, N.W.1._
+
+
+Old Moore Was Right
+
+One of my drivers, a Cockney, called one of his horses Old Moore--"'cos
+'e knows every blinkin' fing like _Old Moore's Almanac_."
+
+One evening, as we were going into the line, we were halted by a staff
+officer and warned of gas. Orders were given at once to wear gas
+helmets. (A nose-bag gas-mask had just been issued for horses.)
+
+After a while I made my way to the rear of the column to see how things
+were. I was puffing and gasping for breath, when a cheery voice called
+out, "Stick it, sargint."
+
+Wondering how any man could be so cheery in such circumstances, I
+lifted my gas helmet, and lo! there sat my Cockney driver, with his
+horses' masks slung over his arm and his own on top of his head like a
+cap-comforter.
+
+"Why aren't you wearing your gas helmet?" I asked.
+
+He leaned over the saddle and replied, in a confidential whisper, "Old
+Moore chucked his orf, so there ain't no blinkin' gas abaht--_'e_
+knows."
+
+We finished the rest of that journey in comfort. Old Moore had
+prophesied correctly.--_S. Harvey (late R.F.A.), 28 Belmont Park Road,
+Leyton, E.10_.
+
+
+He Wouldn't Insult the Mule
+
+One day, while our Field Ambulance was on the Dorian front, Salonika,
+our new colonel and the regimental sergeant-major were visiting the
+transport lines. They came across a Cockney assiduously grooming a pair
+of mules--rogues, both of them.
+
+[Illustration: "... because I didn't want to hurt his feelings."]
+
+Said the R.S.M.: "Well, Brown, what are the names of your mules?"
+
+Brown: "Well, that one is Ananias, because his looks are all lies. This
+one is Satan, but I nearly called him something else. It was a toss-up."
+
+With a smile at the C.O., the sergeant-major remarked: "I would like to
+know what the other name was. Tell the colonel, what was it?"
+
+Brown: "Well, I was going to call him 'Sergeant-Major,' but I didn't
+want to hurt his feelings."--_"Commo" (ex-Sergeant, R.A.M.C.), London,
+N.1_.
+
+
+"Don't Touch 'em, Sonny!"
+
+We had just come back from Passchendaele, that land of two options--you
+could walk on the duck boards and get blown off or you could step off
+them yourself and get drowned in the shell-holes.
+
+A draft from home had made us up to strength, and when Fritz treated
+us to an air raid about eight miles behind the line I am afraid he was
+almost ignored. Anyway, our Cockney sergeant was voicing the opinion
+that it wasn't a bad war when up rushed one recruit holding the chin
+strap of his tin hat and panting, "Aero--aero--aeroplanes." The
+sergeant looked at him for a second and said, "All right, sonny, don't
+touch 'em."
+
+A flush came to the youngster's face, and he walked away--a
+soldier.--_R. C. Ida, D.C.M. (late 2nd Royal Berks), 39 Hoylake Road,
+East Acton, W.3._
+
+
+"Ze English--Zey are all Mad!"
+
+Early in 1915 an Anti-Aircraft Brigade landed at Dunkirk. Their guns
+were mounted in armoured cars, the drivers for which were largely
+recruited from London busmen.
+
+By arrangement with the French staff it was decided that the password
+to enable the drivers to pass the French lines should be the French
+word _aviation_.
+
+The men were paraded and made to repeat this word, parrot fashion, with
+orders to be careful to use it, as it was said that French sentries had
+a nasty habit of shooting first and making any inquiries afterwards.
+
+About a month later I asked my lorry driver how he got on with the
+word. "Quite easy, sir," said he. "I leans aht over the dash and yells
+aht 'ave a ration,' and the Frenchies all larfs and lets me by."
+
+A bit worried about this I interviewed the French Staff Officer and
+asked him if the men were giving the word satisfactorily.
+
+"Oh," he said, "zose men of yours, zey are comique. Your man, he
+says somezing about his dinner, and ze ozzers zey say 'Ullo, Charlie
+Chaplin,' and 'Wotcher, froggy'--all sorts of pass-words."
+
+I apologised profusely. "I will get fresh orders issued," I said, "to
+ensure that the men say the correct word."
+
+"No," replied the French officer, "it ees no use. We know your men now.
+Ze English will never alter--_zey are all mad_."--_G. H. Littleton
+(Lieut.-Col.), 10 Russell Square Mansions, Southampton Row, W.C.1._
+
+
+Mixed History
+
+The Scene: Qurnah, Mesopotamia.
+
+Cockney Tommy--obviously an old Sunday school boy--fed up with Arabs,
+Turks, boils, scorpions, flies, thirst, and dust: "Well, if this is the
+Garden of Eden, no wonder the Twelve Apostles 'opped it!"--_G. T. C.,
+Hendon, N.W.4._
+
+
+Got His Goat!
+
+We, a Field Company of the R.E.'s in France, were on the move to a new
+sector, and amongst our "properties" was a mobile "dairy"--a goat.
+
+"Nanny" travelled on top of a trestle-wagon containing bridging gear,
+with a short rope attached to her collar to confine her activities. But
+a "pot-hole" in the narrow road supplied a lurch that dislodged her,
+with the result that she slid overboard, and the shortness of the rope
+prevented her from reaching the ground.
+
+[Illustration: "Nanny, you'll hang next time!"]
+
+The driver of the wagon behind saw her predicament, and, dismounting,
+ran to her assistance, shouting for the column to halt. Then he took
+Nanny in his arms to relieve the weight on her neck, whilst others
+clambered aboard and released the rope.
+
+Nanny was then put on her legs while her rescuer stood immediately in
+front, watching her recover.
+
+This she speedily did, and, raising her head for a moment, apparently
+discerned the cause of her discomfiture peering at her. At any rate,
+lowering her head, she sprang and caught Bermondsey Bill amidships,
+sending him backwards into a slimy ditch at the side of the road.
+
+As he lay there amidst the undergrowth he yelled, "Strike me pink,
+Nanny! You'll hang next time."--_E. Martin, 78 Chelverton Road, Putney,
+S.W.15._
+
+
+A Difficult Top Note
+
+Somewhere in Palestine the band of a famous London division had been
+called together for very much overdue practice. The overture "Poet and
+Peasant" called for a French horn solo ending on a difficult top note.
+
+After the soloist had made many attempts to get this note the
+bandmaster lost his temper and gave the player a piece of his mind.
+
+Looking at the battered instrument, which had been in France,
+the Balkans, and was now in the Wilderness, and was patched with
+sticking-plaster and soap, the soloist, who hailed from Mile End,
+replied: "Here, if you can do it better you have a go. I don't mind
+trying it on an _instrument_, but I'm darned if I can play it on a
+cullender."--_D. Beland, 17 Ridgdale Street, London, E.3._
+
+[Illustration: "... but I'm darned if I can play it on a cullender."]
+
+
+Home by Underground
+
+A cold, wet night in France. My company was making its way up a
+communication trench on the right of the Arras-Cambrin road. It was in
+some places waist deep in mud. I was in front next to my officer when
+the word was passed down that one of the men had fallen into the mud
+and could not be found. The officer sent me back to find out what had
+happened.
+
+On reaching the spot I found that the man had fallen into the mouth of
+a very deep dug-out which had not been used for some time.
+
+Peering into the blackness, I called out, "Where are you?"
+
+Back came the reply: "You get on wiv the blinkin' war. I've fahnd the
+Channel Tunnel and am going 'ome."
+
+I may say it took us six hours to get him out.--_H. F. B. (late 7th
+Batt. Middlesex Regt.), London, N.W.2._
+
+
+A Job for Samson
+
+During Allenby's big push in Palestine the men were on a forced night
+march, and were tired out and fed up. An officer was trying to buck
+some of them up by talking of the British successes in France and also
+of the places of interest they would see farther up in Palestine.
+
+He was telling them that they were now crossing the Plains of Hebron
+where Samson carried the gates of Gaza, when a deep Cockney voice rang
+out from the ranks, "What a pity that bloke ain't 'ere to carry this
+pack of mine!"--_C. W. Blowers, 25 Little Roke Avenue, Kenley, Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry Wins a Bet
+
+In the Salient, 1916: Alf, who owned a Crown and Anchor board of great
+antiquity, had it spread out on two petrol cans at the bottom of a
+shell-hole.
+
+Around it four of us squatted and began to deposit thereon our dirty
+half and one franc notes, with occasional coins of lesser value. The
+constant whistle of passing fragments was punctuated by the voice
+of Alf calling upon the company to "'ave a bit on the 'eart" or
+alternately "to 'ave a dig in the grave" when a spent bullet crashed
+on his tin hat and fell with a thud into the crown square. "'Struth,"
+gasped Alf, "old squarehead wants to back the sergeant-major." He
+gave a final shake to the cup and exposed the dice--one heart and two
+crowns. "Blimey," exclaimed Alf, "would yer blinkin' well believe it?
+Jerry's backed a winner. 'Arf a mo," and picking up the spent bullet
+he threw it with all his might towards the German lines, exclaiming,
+"'Ere's yer blinking bet back, Jerry, and 'ere's yer winnings."
+He cautiously fired two rounds.--_G. S. Raby (ex-2nd K.R.R.C.),
+Shoeburyness, Essex._
+
+
+Lucky he was Born British
+
+Many ex-soldiers must remember the famous Major Campbell, who
+(supported by the late Jimmy Driscoll), toured behind the lines in
+France giving realistic demonstrations of bayonet fighting.
+
+I was a spectator on one occasion when the Major was demonstrating
+"defence with the naked hands." "Now," he shouted as Jimmy Driscoll
+(who acted the German) rushed upon him with rifle and bayonet pointed
+for a thrust, "I side-step" (grasping his rifle at butt and upper band
+simultaneously); "I twist it to the horizontal and fetch my knee up
+into the pit of his stomach, so! And then, as his head comes down, I
+release my right hand, point my fore and third fingers, so! and stab at
+his eyes."
+
+"Lor'!" gasped a little Cockney platoon chum squatting beside me, "did
+yer see that lot? Wot a nice kind of bloke he is! Wot a blinkin' stroke
+of luck he was born on our side!"--_S. J. Wilson (late 1/20th County
+London Regt.), 27 Cressingham Road, Lewisham._
+
+
+You Never Can Tell
+
+Scene: Turk trench, Somme, on a cold, soaking night in November,
+1916. A working party, complete with rifles, picks, and spades, which
+continually became entangled in the cats' cradle of miscellaneous R.E.
+wire, is making terribly slow progress over irregular trench-boards
+hidden under mud and water. Brisk strafing ahead promising trouble.
+
+Impatient officer (up on the parapet): "For heaven's sake, you lads,
+get a move on! You're not going to a funeral!"
+
+Cockney voice (from bottom of trench): "'Ow the dooce does _'e_
+know!"--_W. Ridsdale, 41 Manor Road, Beckenham, Kent._
+
+
+The Window Gazer
+
+In the early part of 1915, when the box periscope was in great use in
+the trenches, we received a draft of young recruits. One lad, of a
+rather inquisitive nature, was always looking in the glass trying to
+find Jerry's whereabouts.
+
+An old Cockney, passing up and down, had seen this lad peeping in the
+glass. At last he stopped and addressed the lad as follows:
+
+"You've been a-looking in that bloomin' winder all the die, an' nah yer
+ain't bought nuffink."--_E. R. Gibson (late Middlesex Regt.), 42 Maldon
+Road, Edmonton, N.9._
+
+
+"I Don't Fink"
+
+After we landed in France our officer gave us a lecture and told us
+that our best pal in this world was our rifle. He warned us that on no
+account must we part with it. A couple of nights later Gunner Brown,
+a Cockney, was on guard. When the visiting officer approached him and
+said, "Your rifle is dirty, gunner," he replied, "I don't fink so
+sir, 'cos I cleaned it." "Give it to me," said the officer sternly,
+which Brown did. Then the officer said, "You fool, if I were an enemy
+in English uniform I could shoot you." To which Brown replied, "I
+don't fink you could, sir, 'cos I've got the blinkin' bolt in my
+pocket."--_E. W. Houser (late 41st Division, R.F.A.) 22 Hamlet Road,
+Southend._
+
+
+Why the Attack _Must_ Fail
+
+November 1918. The next day we were to move up in readiness for the
+great advance of the 3rd Army.
+
+Some of us were trying to sleep in a cellar when the silence was broken
+by a small voice: "I'm sure this attack will go wrong, you chaps! I
+feel it in my bones!"
+
+It can be imagined how this cheerful remark was received, but when the
+abuse had died down, the same voice was heard again: "Yes, I knows
+it. Some blighter will step orf wi' the wrong foot and we'll all
+'ave to come back and start again!"--_"D" Coy., M.G.C. (24th Batt.),
+Westcliff._
+
+
+The "Shovers"
+
+During the retreat of 1918 I was standing with my company on the side
+of the road by Outersteene Farm, outside Bailleul, when three very
+small and youthful German Tommies with helmets four sizes too large
+passed on their way down the line as prisoners for interrogation. As
+they reached us I heard one of my men say to another: "Luv us, 'Arry,
+look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"--_L. H. B., Beckenham._
+
+[Illustration: "Luv us, 'Arry; look what's shovin' our Army abaht!"]
+
+
+Rehearsal--Without the Villain
+
+A small party with a subaltern were withdrawn from the line to rehearse
+a raid on the German line. A replica of the German trenches had been
+made from aircraft photographs, and these, with our own trench and
+intervening wire, were faithfully reproduced, even to shell-holes.
+
+The rehearsal went off wonderfully. The wire was cut, the German
+trenches were entered, and dummy bombs thrown down the dug-outs.
+
+Back we came to our own trenches. "Everything was done excellently,
+men," said the subaltern, "but I should like to be sure that every
+difficulty has been allowed for. Can any man think of any point which
+we have overlooked?"
+
+"Yus," came the terse reply--"Jerry."--_Edward Nolan (15th London
+Regt.), 41 Dalmeny Avenue, S.W.16._
+
+
+Poetry Before the Push
+
+During February and March 1918 the 1/13th Battalion London Regiment
+(the Kensingtons), who were at Vimy Ridge, had been standing-to in the
+mornings for much longer than the regulation hour because of the coming
+big German attack. One company commander--a very cheery officer--was
+tired of the general "wind up" and determined to pull the legs of the
+officers at Battalion H.Q. It was his duty to send in situation reports
+several times a day. To vary things he wrote a situation report in
+verse, sent it over the wire to B.H.Q., where, of course, it was taken
+down in prose and read with complete consternation by the C.O. and
+adjutant!
+
+It showed the gay spirit which meant so much in the front line at a
+time when everyone's nerves were on edge. It was written less than two
+days before the German offensive of March 21. Here are the verses:
+
+    (_C Company Situation Report 19/3/18_)
+
+    There is nothing I can tell you
+      That you really do not know--
+    Except that we are on the Ridge
+      And Fritz is down below.
+
+    I'm tired of "situations"
+      And of "wind" entirely "vane."
+    The gas-guard yawns and tells me
+      "It's blowing up for rain."
+
+    He's a human little fellow.
+      With a thoughtful point of view,
+    And his report (uncensored)
+      I pass, please, on to you.
+
+    "When's old Fritzie coming over?
+      Does the General really know?
+    The Colonel seems to think so,
+      The Captain tells us 'No.'
+
+    "When's someone going to tell us
+      We can 'Stand-to' as before?
+    An hour at dawn and one at dusk,
+      Lor' blimey, who wants more?"
+
+The word "vane" in the second verse refers, of course, to the
+weather-vane used in the trenches to indicate whether the wind was
+favourable or not for a gas attack.--_Frederick Heath (Major), 1/13th
+Batt. London Regt. (Kensingtons)._
+
+
+'Erb's Consolation Prize
+
+A narrow communication trench leading up to the front line; rain, mud,
+shells, and everything else to make life hideous.
+
+Enter the ration party, each man carrying something bulky besides his
+rifle and kit.
+
+One of the party, a Londoner known as 'Erb, is struggling with a huge
+mail-bag, bumping and slipping and sliding, moaning and swearing,
+when a voice from under a sack of bread pipes: "Never mind, 'Erb;
+perhaps there's a postcard in it for you!"--_L. G. Austin (24th London
+Regiment), 8 Almeida Street, Upper Street, Islington, N.1._
+
+[Illustration: "Never mind, 'Erb, perhaps there's a postcard in it for
+you!"]
+
+
+Rum for Sore Feet
+
+Whilst doing duty as acting Q.M.S. I was awakened one night by a loud
+banging on the door of the shack which was used as the stores. Without
+getting up I asked the reason for the noise, and was told that a pair
+of boots I had issued that day were odd--one was smaller than the
+other. The wearer was on stable piquet, and could hardly walk.
+
+I told him he would have to put up with it till the morning--I wasn't
+up all night changing boots, and no doubt I should have a few words to
+say when I did see him!
+
+"Orl right, Quarter," came the reply, "I'm sorry I woke yer--but could
+yer give us a tot of rum to stop the pain?"--_P. K. (late 183rd Batt.
+41st Div. R.F.A.), Kilburn, N.W.6._
+
+
+Two Guineas' Worth
+
+In France during November 1914 I received an abrupt reminder that
+soldiering with the Honourable Artillery Company entails an annual
+subscription.
+
+The battalion had marched out during the night to a small village named
+Croix Barbee to carry out some operation, and returned at daybreak to
+its "lodging" near La Couture, another village some four or five miles
+away.
+
+Being a signaller, I had the doubtful privilege of owning a bicycle,
+which had to be pushed or carried every inch of the way. On the march
+back the mud was so bad that it was impossible for me to keep up with
+the battalion, owing to the necessity every quarter of a mile or so of
+cleaning out the mudguards.
+
+I was plodding along all by myself in the early hours of daylight, very
+tired of the bike and everything else, and I approached an old soldier
+of the Middlesex Regiment sitting by the roadside recovering slowly
+from the strain of the fatiguing night march.
+
+He looked at me and, with a twinkle in his eye, said, "Well, mate, 'ad
+yer two guineas wurf yet?"--_J. H. May, Ravenswood, Ashford, Middlesex._
+
+
+The Four-footed Spy
+
+Whilst we were at Arras a horse was found entangled in some barbed
+wire, having presumably strayed from the German lines. He was captured
+by a rifleman and brought back to the horse lines to be used by the
+transport driver.
+
+A Cockney groom was detailed to look after him. The two never seemed to
+agree, for the groom was always being bitten or kicked by "Jerry."
+
+One morning the picket discovered that "Jerry" was missing, and
+concluded that he must have broken away during the night. The matter
+was reported to the sergeant, who went and routed out the groom. "What
+about it? Ain't you goin' to look for 'im?" said the sergeant.
+
+"Not me, sarge! I always said the blighter was a blinkin' spy!" replied
+the groom.--_J. Musgrave (late 175th Infantry Brigade), 52 Cedar Grove,
+South Ealing, W.5._
+
+
+Not Every Dog has his Night
+
+Our battalion arrived in a French village late on the night of
+September 25, 1915, after marching all day in pouring rain. To add to
+our troubles no billets were available (the place was teeming with
+reserve troops for the attack at Loos).
+
+We were told to find some sort of shelter from the rain and get a good
+night's rest, as we were to move up to the attack on the morrow.
+
+My chum, a Londoner, and I scouted round. I found room for one in an
+already overcrowded stable; my chum continued the search. He returned
+in a few minutes to tell me he had found a spot. I wished him good
+night and went to sleep.
+
+In the morning, when I came out of the stable, I saw the long legs of
+a Guardsman (who proved to be my chum) protruding from a dog kennel.
+Beside them sat a very fed-up dog!--_F. Martin (late 1st Batt. Scots
+Guards), 91 Mostyn Road, Brixton, S.W._
+
+[Illustration: "...A very fed-up dog."]
+
+
+The Brigadier's Glass Eye
+
+A brigadier of the 54th Infantry Brigade (18th Division), who had a
+glass-eye, and his Cockney runner, were on their way up the line when
+they observed a dead German officer who had a very prominent gold tooth.
+
+The next day, passing by the same spot, the Brigadier noticed that the
+gold tooth was missing.
+
+"I see that his gold tooth has gone, Johnson," he said.
+
+"Yessir."
+
+"I suppose someone will take my glass eye, if I am knocked out."
+
+"Yessir. I've put meself dahn fer that, fer a souvenir!"--_W. T.
+Pearce, "Southernhay," Bethune Avenue, Friern Barnet, N.11._
+
+
+The Chaplain-General's Story
+
+In June 1917 I shared a G.H.Q. car with the Chaplain-General to the
+Forces, Bishop Gwynne, who was on his way from St. Omer to Amiens,
+whilst I was on my way to the Third Army School at Auxi-le-Chateau.
+
+During the journey our conversation turned to chaplains, and the bishop
+asked me whether I thought the chaplains then coming to France were of
+the right type, especially from the point of view of the regimental
+officers and men. My reply was that the chaplains as a whole differed
+very little from any other body of men in France: they were either men
+of the world and very human, and so got on splendidly with the troops,
+or else they were neither the one nor the other, cut very little ice,
+and found their task a very difficult one.
+
+The Bishop then told me the following story, which he described as
+perfectly true:
+
+    "A chaplain attached to a London regiment made a practice
+    of always living in the front line whenever the battalion
+    went in to the trenches rather than remaining with Battalion
+    Headquarters some way back, and he had his own dug-out over
+    which appeared the words 'The Vicarage.'
+
+    "One day a young Cockney in the line for the first time was
+    walking along the trench with an older soldier, and turning a
+    corner suddenly came on 'The Vicarage.'
+
+    "'Gorblimey, Bill!' he said, 'who'd 'ave fought of seein' the
+    b---- vicarage in the front line?'"
+
+    "Immediately the cheery face of the padre popped out from
+    behind the blanket covering the entrance and a voice in reply
+    said: 'Yes! And who'd have thought of seeing the b---- vicar
+    too?'"
+
+"That's the kind of chaplain," said the Bishop, "I'm trying to get them
+to send out to France."--_(Brig.-Gen.) R. J. Kentish, C.M.G., D.S.O.,
+Shalford Park, Guildford._
+
+
+A Thirst Worth Saving
+
+During the summer of 1917 our battalion--the 1/5th Buffs--formed part
+of General Thompson's flying column operating between the Tigris and
+the Shatt Al-'Adhaim.
+
+One morning we discovered that the native camel drivers had deserted to
+the enemy's lines, taking with them the camels that were carrying our
+water.
+
+No man had more than a small cup of water in his bottle yet we waited
+orders until dawn the next day, when a 'plane dropped a message for us
+to return to the Tigris.
+
+I shall not dwell on that 20-mile march back to the river over the
+burning sand--I cannot remember the last few miles of it myself. None
+of us could speak. Our lips and tongues were bursting.
+
+When we reached the Tigris we drank and drank again--then lay exhausted.
+
+The first man I heard speak was "Busty" Johnson, who, with great effort
+hoarsely muttered: "Lumme, if I can only keep this blinkin' first till
+I goes on furlough!"--_J. W. Harvey (late 1/5th Buffs, M.E.F.), 25
+Queen's Avenue, Greenford Park, Middlesex._
+
+
+Points of View
+
+On a wet and cold winter's night in the hills south of Nablus
+(Palestine) a sentry heard sounds as of slipping feet and strange
+guttural noises from the direction of the front line. He waited with
+his rifle at the port and then challenged: "Halt! who goes there?"
+
+A thin, dismal voice came from the darkness. "A pore miserable blighter
+with five ruddy camels."
+
+"Pass, miserable blighter, all's well," replied the sentry.
+
+Into the sentry's view came a rain-soaked disconsolate-looking Tommy
+"towing" five huge ration camels.
+
+"All's well, is it? Coo! Not 'arf!" said he.--_W. E. Bickmore (late "C"
+303 Brigade, R.F.A., 60th Div.), 121 Gouville Road, Thornton Heath,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Not the British Museum
+
+The Labyrinth Sector.
+
+Three of us--signallers--having just come off duty in the front line,
+were preparing to put in a few hours' sleep, when a voice came floating
+down the dug-out steps: "Is Corporal Stone down there?"
+
+Chorus: "No!"
+
+Ten minutes later came the same voice: "Is Sergeant Fossell down there?"
+
+"Go away," replied our Cockney; "this ain't the blinkin' British
+Museum!"--_G. J. Morrison (late 14th London Regt.), "Alness," Colborne
+Way, Worcester Park, Surrey._
+
+
+Jerry Would Not Smile
+
+I met him coming from the front line, one of "London's Own." He was
+taking back the most miserable and sullen-looking prisoner I have ever
+seen.
+
+"Got a light, Jock?" he asked me. I obliged. "'Ave a Ruby Queen,
+matey?" I accepted.
+
+"Cheerful-looking customer you've got there, Fusie," I ventured,
+pointing to his prisoner.
+
+[Illustration: "... and if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's
+'opeless."]
+
+He looked up in disgust. "Cheerful? Lummie, he gives me the creeps.
+I've orfered 'im a fag, and played 'Katie' and 'When this luvly war is
+over' on me old mouf orgin for him, but not a bloomin' smile. An' I've
+shown him me souvenirs and a photograph of me old woman, and, blimey,
+if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's 'opeless!"
+
+And then, with a cheery "Mercy bokoo, matey," and a "Come on, 'Appy,"
+to his charge, he pushed on.--_Charles Sumner (late London Scottish),
+Butler's Cottage, Sutton Lane, Heston, Middlesex._
+
+
+"Birdie" Had to Smile
+
+While I was serving with the Australians at Gallipoli in 1915 I was
+detailed to take charge of a fatigue party to carry water from the
+beach to the front line, a distance of about a mile.
+
+Our way lay over rather dangerous and extremely hilly country. The
+weather was very hot. Each man in the party had to carry four petrol
+tins of water.
+
+While trudging along a narrow communication trench we were confronted
+by General Birdwood and his A.D.C. As was the general's cheery way, he
+stopped, and to the man in front (one "Stumpy" Stewart, a Cockney who
+had been in Australia for some time) he remarked, "Well, my man, how do
+you like this place?"
+
+"Stumpy" shot a quick glance at the general and then blurted out,
+"Well, sir, 't'aint the sort of plice you'd bring your Jane to, is it?"
+
+I can see "Birdie's" smile now.--_C. Barrett (Lieut., Aust. Flying
+Corps, then 6th Aust. Light Horse), Charing Cross, W.C._
+
+
+Their Very Own Secret
+
+We were on a forced march to a sector on Vimy Ridge. It was a wicked
+night--rain and thick fog--and during a halt several of our men got
+lost. I was ordered to round them up, but I also got hopelessly lost.
+
+I had been wandering about for some time when I came across one of our
+men--a young fellow from the Borough. We had both lost direction and
+could do nothing but wait.
+
+At last dawn broke and the fog lifted. We had not the slightest idea
+where we were, so I told my friend to reconnoitre a hill on the right
+and report to me if he saw anyone moving, while I did the same on the
+left.
+
+After a while I heard a cautious shout, and my companion came running
+towards me, breathless with excitement, and in great delight gasped,
+"Sergeant, sergeant! Germans! Germans! Fousands of 'em--and there's
+nobody but you and me knows anyfing abaht it!"--_G. Lidsell (late Devon
+Regt.), Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+Window Cleaners Coming!
+
+We were passing through Ypres, in 1915, in a Wolseley Signals tender
+when we came upon a battalion of the Middlesex on their way out to
+rest, very tired and very dirty.
+
+Our cable cart ladders, strapped to the sides of the lorry, caught the
+eyes of one wag. "Blimey, boys," he cried, "we're orl right nah; 'ere
+comes the blinkin' winder-cleaners."--_"Sigs.," Haslemere, Surrey._
+
+
+First Blow
+
+It was outside Albert, during the Somme attack, that I met a lone
+Army Service Corps wagon, laden with supplies. One of the horses was
+jibbing, and the driver, a diminutive Cockney, was at its head, urging
+it forward. As I approached I saw him deliberately kick the horse in
+the flank.
+
+I went up to the man and, taking out notebook and pencil, asked him for
+his name, number, and unit, at the same time remonstrating with him
+severely.
+
+"I wasn't doin' 'im no 'arm," pleaded the man; "I've only got my
+gum-boots on, and, besides, 'e kicked me first."
+
+[Illustration: "An' besides, he kicked me first."]
+
+I tore up my entry, mounted my motor-cycle, and left an injured-looking
+driver rubbing a sore shin.--_R. D. Blackman (Capt., R.A.F.), 118 Abbey
+Road, St. John's Wood, N.W.6._
+
+
+M.M. (Mounted Marine)
+
+After riding for several hours one wet, windy, and miserable night,
+with everyone soaked to the skin and fed up generally, we were halted
+in a field which, owing to the heavy rain, was more like a lake.
+
+On receiving the order to dismount and loosen girths, one of our number
+remained mounted and was busy flashing a small torch on the water
+when the sergeant, not too gently, inquired, "Why the dickens are
+you still mounted, and what the deuce are you looking for anyway?" To
+which a Cockney voice replied, "Blimey, sergeant, where's the landing
+stage?"--_"Jimmy" (late Essex Yeomanry)._
+
+
+His German 'Arp
+
+Having been relieved, after our advance at Loos in 1915, we were making
+our way back at night.
+
+We had to pass through the German barbed wire, which had tins tied to
+it so that it rattled if anyone tried to pass it.
+
+Our sergeant got entangled in it and caused a lot of noise, whereupon a
+Cockney said: "You're orl right on the old banjo, sergeant, but when it
+comes to the German 'arp you're a blinkin' washaht."--_W. Barnes, M.M.
+(late 1st Bn. K.R.R.C.), 63 Streatfeild Avenue, East Ham._
+
+[Illustration: "When it comes to the German 'arp you're a washaht."]
+
+
+Jack went a-Riding
+
+Early in 1916 we were on outpost duty at a place called Ayun Musa,
+about four miles east of Suez.
+
+One day a British monitor arrived in the Gulf of Suez, and we were
+invited to spend an hour on board as the sailors' guests. The next day
+the sailors came ashore and were our guests.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't ask me--ask the blinkin' 'oss."]
+
+After seeing the canteen most of them were anxious for a ride on a
+horse. So we saddled a few horses and helped our guests to mount. Every
+horse chose a different direction in the desert.
+
+One of the sailors was a Cockney. He picked a fairly fresh mount, which
+soon "got away" with him. He lost his reins and hung round the animal's
+neck for dear life as it went at full gallop right through the Camp
+Commandant's quarters.
+
+Hearing the commotion, the Commandant put his head out of his bivouac
+and shouted, "What the dickens do you mean galloping through here?"
+
+Back came the retort, "Don't ask me--ask the blinkin' 'oss."--_H. F.
+Montgomery (late H.A.C.), 33 Cavenham Gardens, Ilford._
+
+
+Bitter Memories
+
+During an attack near Beer-Sheba, Palestine, our regiment had been
+without water for over twenty-four hours. We were suffering very badly,
+as the heat was intense. Most of us had swollen tongues and lips and
+were hardly able to speak, but the company humorist, a Cockney, was
+able to mutter, "Don't it make you mad to fink of the times you left
+the barf tap running?"--_H. Owen (late Queen's Royal West Surrey
+Regt.), 18 Edgwarebury Gardens, Edgware, Middlesex._
+
+
+Tommy "Surrounded" Them
+
+It was in July 1916. The Somme Battle had just begun. The troops in
+front of us had gone over the top and were pushing forward. We were in
+support and had just taken over the old front line.
+
+Just on our right was a road leading up and through the German lines.
+Looking up this road we saw a small squad strolling towards us. It
+was composed of four Germans under the care of a London Tommy who was
+strolling along, with his rifle under his arm, like a gamekeeper. It
+made quite a nice picture.
+
+When they reached us one of our young officers shouted out: "Are you
+looking for the hounds?"
+
+Then the Cockney started: "Blimey, I don't know abaht looking for
+'ounds. I got four of 'em 'ere--and now I got 'em I don't know where to
+dump 'em."
+
+The officer said: "Where did you find them?"
+
+"I surrounded 'em, sir," was the reply.
+
+Our officer said: "You had better leave them here for the time being."
+
+"Right-o, sir," replied the Cockney. "You hang on to 'em until I come
+back. I'm going up the road to get some more. There's fahsends of 'em
+up there."--_R. G. Williams, 30 Dean Cottages, Hanworth Road, Hampton,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+Shell-holes and Southend
+
+My pal (a Battersea boy) and I were two of a draft in 1916 transferred
+from the K.R.R.s to the R.I.R.s. On the first night in the trenches we
+were detailed for listening post. My pal said: "That's good. I'll be
+able to tell father what No Man's Land is like, as he asked me."
+
+After we had spent what was to me a nerve-wracking experience in
+the mud of a shell-hole, I asked him what he was going to tell his
+father. He said: "It's like Southend at low tide on the fifth of
+November."--_F. Tuohey (late 14th Batt. R.I.R.), 31 Winchester Road,
+Edmonton._
+
+
+"Make Me a Good 'Orse"
+
+Having come out of action, we lay behind the line waiting for
+reinforcements of men and horses. The horses arrived, and I went out to
+see what they were like.
+
+I was surprised to see a Cockney, who was a good groom, having trouble
+in grooming one of the new horses. Every time he put the brush between
+its forelegs the animal went down on its knees.
+
+[Illustration: "Gawd bless farver an' make me a good 'orse."]
+
+At last in desperation the Cockney stepped back, and gazing at the
+horse still on its knees, said: "Go on, yer long-faced blighter. 'Gawd
+bless muvver. Gawd bless farver, an' make me a good 'orse.'"--_Charles
+Gibbons (late 3rd Cavalry Brigade), 131 Grove Street, Deptford, S.E.8._
+
+
+The Lost Gumboot
+
+An N.C.O. in the Engineers, I was guiding a party of about seventy
+Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regt.) through a trench system between
+Cambrin, near Loos, and the front line. About half-way the trenches
+were in many places knee-deep in mud. It was about 2 a.m. and shelling
+made things far from pleasant. Then word came up that we had lost touch
+with the tail-end of the party, and a halt was called, most of us
+standing in mud two feet deep.
+
+The officer in charge sent a message back asking why the tail-end had
+failed to keep up. The reply came back in due course: "Man lost his
+gumboot in the mud." The officer, becoming annoyed at the delay, sent
+back the message: "Who's the fool who lost his gumboot?"
+
+I heard the message receding into the distance with the words "fool"
+"gumboot" preceded by increasingly lurid adjectives. In about three or
+four minutes I heard the answer being passed up, getting louder and
+louder: "Charlie Chaplin," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN." Even
+our sorely-tried officer had to laugh.--_P. Higson, Lancashire._
+
+
+"Compree 'Sloshy'?"
+
+During one of the Passchendaele advances in 1917 my battery was
+situated astride a board roadway leading over the ridge. After this
+particular show was over I happened to be in the telephone dug-out when
+prisoners started coming back.
+
+One weary little lance-jack in a London regiment arrived in charge
+of an enormous, spectacled, solemn-looking Fritz. As he reached the
+battery position he paused to rest and look at the guns.
+
+Leaning against the side of the dug-out he produced a cigarette end
+and, lighting it, proceeded to make conversation with his charge which,
+being out of sight, I was privileged to overhear.
+
+"Ain't 'arf blinkin' sloshy 'ere, ain't it, Fritz? Compree sloshy?" No
+reply.
+
+He tried again. "Got a cushy job these 'ere artillery blokes, ain't
+they? Compree cushy?" Still no answer.
+
+He made a third attempt. "S'pose you're abart fed up with this blinkin'
+guerre. Compree guerre?" Again the stony, uncomprehending silence; and
+then:
+
+"Garn, yer don't know nuffink, yer don't, yer ignorant blighter. Say
+another blinkin' word and I'll knock yer blinkin' block orf."--_A. E.
+Joyce (late R.F.A.), Swallowcroft, Broxbourne Road, Orpington, Kent._
+
+
+Looking-Glass Luck
+
+During the second battle of Ypres, in May 1915, I was attached to the
+1st Cavalry Brigade, and after a terrific strafing from Fritz there was
+a brief lull, which gave us a chance for a "wash and brush up."
+
+While we were indulging in the luxury of a shave, a Cockney trooper
+dropped his bit of looking-glass.
+
+Seeing that it was broken I casually remarked, "Bad luck for seven
+years." And the reply I got was, "If I live seven years to 'ave bad
+luck it'll be blinking good luck."--_J. Tucker, 46 Langton Road,
+Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Mine that was His
+
+Just before our big push in August 1918 we were resting in "Tank Wood."
+The place was dotted with shell holes, one of which was filled with
+rather clean water, evidently from a nearby spring. A board at the edge
+of this hole bore the word "MINE," so we gave it a wide berth.
+
+Imagine our surprise when later we saw "Tich," a lad from the Old Kent
+Road, bathing in the water. One of our men yelled, "Hi, Tich, carn't
+yer read?"
+
+"Yus," replied "Tich," "don't yer fink a bloke can read 'is own
+writing?"--_Walter F. Brooks (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 141 Cavendish
+Road, Highams Park, E.4._
+
+
+"Geography" Hour
+
+Just before going over the top a private, wishing to appear as cheerful
+as possible, turned to his platoon sergeant and said: "I suppose we
+will be making history in a few minutes, sergeant?"
+
+"No," replied the sergeant: "our first objective is about 250 yards
+straight to the front. What you have to do is to get from here to there
+as quickly as your legs will carry you. We are making geography this
+morning, my lad!"--_"Arras," London, S.W.1._
+
+
+To the General, About the Colonel
+
+The colonel of the regiment, gifted with the resonant voice of a
+dare-devil leader, was highly esteemed for his rigid sense of duty,
+especially in the presence of the enemy.
+
+The Germans had been troubling us a lot with gas, and this kept
+everyone on the _qui vive_.
+
+Accompanied by the colonel, the divisional commander was making his
+usual inspection of the front line intent on the alertness of sentries.
+
+In one fire-bay the colonel stopped to give instructions regarding a
+ventilating machine which had been used to keep the trench clear of gas
+after each attack.
+
+Meanwhile the general moved on towards the other end of the fire-bay,
+where the sentry, fresh out from the reserve battalion recruited in
+Bermondsey, stood with his eyes glued to the periscope.
+
+A natural impulse of the general as he noticed the weather-vane on the
+parapet was to test the sentry's intelligence on "gas attack by the
+enemy," so as he approached the soldier he addressed him in a genial
+and confiding manner: "Well, my lad, and how's the wind blowing this
+morning?"
+
+Welcoming a little respite, as he thought, from periscope strain,
+by way of a short "chin-wag" with one or other of his pals, the
+unsuspecting sentry rubbed his hands gleefully together as he turned
+round with the reply: "'Taint 'arf so dusty arter all." Then, suddenly
+through the corner of his eye he caught sight of his colonel at the
+other end of the fire-bay. His face instantly changed its cheerful
+aspect as he breathlessly whispered to his inquirer, "Lumme, the
+ole man! 'Ere, mate, buzz orf quick--a-a-an' don't let 'im cop yer
+a-talkin' to the sentry on dooty, or Jerry's barrage will be a washaht
+when the Big Noise starts _'is_ fireworks!"--_William St. John Spencer
+(late East Surrey Regiment), "Roydsmoor," Arneson Road, East Molesey,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Bow Bells--1917 Style
+
+We were going up the line at Bullecourt in April 1917. I have rather
+bad eyesight and my glasses had been smashed. Being the last of the
+file I lost touch with the others and had no idea where I was. However,
+I stumbled on, and eventually reached the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "Take those bells orf."]
+
+Upon the ground were some empty petrol cans tied up ready to be taken
+down to be filled with water. I tripped up amongst these and created
+an awful din, whereupon an angry voice came from out the gloom.--"I
+don't know 'oo or wot the dickens you are, but for 'eaven's sake take
+those bells orf!"--_W. G. Root (late 12th London Regt.), 24 Harrington
+Square, N.W.1._
+
+
+"The Awfentic Gramerphone!"
+
+This happened on that wicked March 21, 1918.
+
+During a lull in the scrapping, a lone German wandered too near, and we
+collared him. He was handed over to Alf, our Cockney cookie.
+
+Things got blacker for us. We could see Germans strung out in front of
+us and on both flanks--Germans and machine guns everywhere.
+
+"Well, boys," said our major, "looks as if it's all up with us, doesn't
+it?"
+
+"There's this abaht it, sir," said Alf, pointing to his prisoner; "when
+it comes to chuckin' our 'ands in, we've got the awfentic gramerphone
+to yell 'Kamerad!'--ain't we?"--_C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+The Muffin Man
+
+Two companies of a London regiment were relieving each other on a quiet
+part of the line, late in the evening of a dismal sort of day. The
+members of the ingoing company were carrying sheets of corrugated iron
+on their heads for the purpose of strengthening their position.
+
+A member of the outgoing company, observing a pal of his with one of
+these sheets on his head, bawled out: "'Ullo, 'Arry, what'cher doing
+of?" to which came the laconic reply: "Selling muffins, but I've lost
+me blinkin' bell."--_H. O. Harries, 85 Seymour Road, Harringay, N.8._
+
+
+The Holiday Resort
+
+Early in October 1915 a half company of the 3rd Middlesex Regiment
+occupied a front-line sector at Givenchy, known as the "Duck's Bill,"
+which ran into the German line.
+
+In spite of our proximity to the enemy our chief annoyance was
+occasional sniping, machine gunning, rifle grenades, and liquid fire,
+for the area had been given over mainly to mining and counter-mining.
+
+It was expected that the "Duck's Bill" would "go up" at any moment, so
+it was decided to leave only one officer in charge, with instructions
+to keep every available man engaged either in furiously tunnelling
+towards the enemy to counter their efforts, or in repairing our
+breast-works, which had been seriously damaged in a German attack.
+
+My men worked like Trojans on a most tiring, muddy, and gruesome task.
+
+At last we were relieved by the Leicestershire Regiment, and one of
+my men, on being asked by his Leicester relief what the place was
+like, replied: "Well, 'ow d'yer spend yer 'olidies, in the country
+or at the seaside? 'Cos yer gits both 'ere as yer pleases: rabbit
+'unting (pointing to the tunnelling process) and sand castle building
+(indicating the breastwork repairs), wiv fireworks in the evening."
+
+The Leicesters, alas! "went up" that evening.--_S. H. Flood (late
+Middlesex Regiment and M.G.C.), "Prestonville," Maidstone Road,
+Chatham, Kent._
+
+
+The "Tich" Touch
+
+We had survived the landing operations at Murmansk, in North Russia,
+and each company had received a number of sets of skis, which are very
+awkward things to manage until you get used to them.
+
+On one occasion when we were practising, a "son of London," after
+repeated tumbles, remarked to his pals, who were also getting some "ups
+and downs": "Fancy seein' me dahn Poplar way wiv these fings on; my
+little old bunch of trouble would say, 'What's 'e trying ter do nah?
+Cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance?'"--_C. H. Mitchell (late
+Staff-Sergt. A.S.C.), 7 Kingsholm Gardens, Eltham, S.E.9._
+
+[Illustration: "Trying to cut aht Little Tich in the long-boot dance."]
+
+
+Smart Men All
+
+One of the usual orders had come through to my battalion of the
+Middlesex Regiment for a number of men to be detailed for extra
+regimental duties which would be likely to take them away from the
+battalion for a considerable time. The company I commanded had to
+provide twenty men.
+
+It was a golden opportunity to make a selection of those men whose
+physical infirmities were more evident than the stoutness of their
+hearts. Together with my company sergeant-major I compiled a list of
+those who could best be spared from the trenches, and the following day
+they were paraded for inspection before moving off.
+
+As I approached, one of the men who had been summing up his comrades
+and evidently realised the reason for their selection, remarked
+in a very audible Cockney whisper, "What I says is, if you was to
+search the 'ole of Norvern France you wouldn't find a smarter body
+o' men!"--_"Nobby" (late Captain, Middlesex Regiment), Potters Bar,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+"You'd Pay a Tanner at the Zoo!"
+
+During the floods in Palestine in 1917 I had to be sent down the line
+with an attack of malaria. Owing to the roads being deep in water, I
+was strapped in an iron chair pannier on the back of a camel. My sick
+companion, who balanced me on the other side of the camel, was a member
+of the London Regiment affectionately known as the Hackney Gurkhas.
+
+The Johnnie patiently trudged through the water leading the camel, and
+kept up the cry of "Ish! Ish!" as it almost slipped down at every step.
+
+I was feeling pretty bad with the swaying, and said to my companion,
+"Isn't this the limit?"
+
+"Shurrup, mate!" he replied. "Yer don't know when yer well orf. You'd
+'ave to pay a tanner for this at the Zoo!"--_Frederick T. Fitch (late
+1/5th Batt. Norfolk Regt.), The Gordon Boys' Home, West End, Woking,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Smoking Without Cigarettes
+
+Most ex-soldiers will remember the dreary monotony of "going through
+the motions" of every movement in rifle exercises.
+
+We had just evacuated our position on the night of December 4-5, 1917,
+at Cambrai, after the German counter-attack, and, after withstanding
+several days' severe battering both by the enemy and the elements, were
+staggering along, tired and frozen and hungry, and generally fed up.
+
+When we were deemed to be sufficiently far from the danger zone the
+order was given to allow the men to smoke. As practically everyone in
+the battalion had been without cigarettes or tobacco for some days
+the permission seemed to be wasted. But I passed the word down, "'C'
+Company, the men may smoke," to be immediately taken up by a North
+Londoner: "Yus, and if you ain't got no fags you can go through the
+motions."--_H. H. Morris, M.C. (late Lieut., 16th Middlesex Regt.), 10
+Herbert Street, Malden Road, N.W.5._
+
+
+An Expensive Light
+
+Winter 1915, at Wieltje, on the St. Jean Road. We were on listening
+post in a shell-hole in No Man's Land, and the night was black.
+
+Without any warning, my Cockney pal Nobby threw a bomb towards the
+German trench, and immediately Fritz sent up dozens of Verey lights.
+I turned anxiously to Nobby and asked, "What is it? Did you spot
+anything?" and was astonished when he replied, "I wanted ter know
+the time, and I couldn't see me blinkin' watch in the dark."--_E. W.
+Fellows, M.M. (late 6th Battn. D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace Road, Clapton,
+E.5._
+
+
+Modern Conveniences
+
+A Tommy plugging it along the Arras-Doullens road in the pouring rain.
+"Ole Bill," the omnibus, laden with Cockneys going towards the line,
+overtakes him.
+
+Tommy: "Sitting room inside, mate?"
+
+Cockney on Bus: "No, but there's a barf-room upstairs!"--_George T.
+Coles (ex-Lieut., R.A.F.), 17 Glebe Crescent, Hendon, N.W.4._
+
+[Illustration: "There's a barf-room upstairs!"]
+
+
+The Trench Fleet
+
+A certain section of the line, just in front of Levantie, being a
+comparatively peaceful and quiet spot, was held by a series of posts at
+intervals of anything up to three hundred yards, which made the task of
+bringing up rations an unhappy one, especially as the trenches in this
+sector always contained about four feet of water.
+
+One November night a miserable ration party was wading through the thin
+slimy mud. The sentry at the top of the communication trench, hearing
+the grousing, splashing, and clanking of tins, and knowing full well
+who was approaching, issued the usual challenge, as per Army Orders:
+"'Alt! 'Oo goes there?"
+
+Out of the darkness came the reply, in a weary voice: "Admiral Jellicoe
+an' 'is blinkin' fleet."--_W. L. de Groot (late Lieut., 5th West Yorks
+Regt.), 17 Wentworth Road, Golders Green, N.W.11._
+
+
+The Necessary Stimulant
+
+On the St. Quentin front in 1917 we were relieved by the French
+Artillery. We watched with rather critical eyes their guns going in,
+and, best of all, their observation balloon going up.
+
+The ascent of this balloon was, to say the least, spasmodic. First it
+went up about a hundred feet, then came down, then a little higher and
+down again.
+
+This was repeated several times, until at last the car was brought
+to the ground and the observer got out. He was handed a packet, then
+hastily returned, and up the balloon went for good. Then I heard a
+Cockney voice beside me in explanatory tones: "There! I noo wot it was
+all the time. 'E'd forgotten his vin blong!"--_Ernest E. Homewood (late
+1st London Heavy Battery), 13 Park Avenue, Willesden Green, N.W.2._
+
+
+A Traffic Problem
+
+A dark cloudy night in front of Lens, two patrols of the 19th London
+Regt., one led by Lieut. R----, the other by Corporal B----, were
+crawling along the barbed wire entanglements in No Man's Land, towards
+each other.
+
+Two tin hats met with a clang, which at once drew the attention of
+Fritz.
+
+Lieut. R---- sat back in the mud, while snipers' and machine-gun
+bullets whistled past, and in a cool voice said, "Why don't you
+ring your perishing bell?"--_L. C. Pryke (late 19th London Regt.),
+"Broughdale," Rochford Avenue, Rochford, Essex._
+
+
+Scots, Read This!
+
+On the afternoon of Christmas Day, 1915, three pipers, of whom I was
+one, went into the trenches at Loos, and after playing at our Battalion
+H.Q., proceeded to the front line, where we played some selections
+for the benefit of the Germans, whose trenches were very close at
+this point. Probably thinking that an attack was imminent, they sent
+up innumerable Verey lights, but, deciding later that we had no such
+intention, they responded by singing and playing on mouth-organs.
+
+Having finished our performance, my friends and I proceeded on our way
+back, and presently, passing some men of another regiment, were asked
+by one of them: "Was that you playin' them bloomin' toobs?" We admitted
+it.
+
+"'Ear that, Joe?" he remarked to his pal. "These blokes 'ave bin givin'
+the 'Uns a toon."
+
+"Serve 'em right," said Joe, "they started the blinkin' war."--_Robert
+Donald Marshall (late Piper, 1st Bn. London Scottish), 83 Cranley
+Drive, Ilford._
+
+
+Met His Match
+
+A London Tommy was standing near the leave boat at Calais, which had
+just brought him back to France on his way to the firing line. It was
+raining, and he was trying to get a damp cigarette to draw.
+
+Just then a French soldier approached him with an unlighted cigarette
+in his hand, and, pointing to Tommy's cigarette, held out his hand and
+exclaimed "Allumette?"
+
+[Illustration: Poilu: "Allumette?"
+
+Tommy: "'Allo, mate." (Shakes.)]
+
+The Tommy sadly shook hands and replied "Allo, Mate."--_A. J. Fairer,
+Mirigama, Red Down Road, Coulsdon, Surrey._
+
+
+Why Jerry was "Clinked"
+
+On August 8, 1918, as our battery began the long trail which landed us
+in Cologne before Christmas we met a military policeman who had in his
+charge three very dejected-looking German prisoners. "Brummy," our
+battery humorist, shouted to the red-cap: "'Ullo, Bobby, what are yer
+clinkin' those poor old blokes for?"
+
+"Creatin' a disturbance on the Western Front," replied the
+red-cap.--_Wm. G. Sheppard (late Sergeant, 24th Siege Bty., R.A.), 50
+Benares Road, Plumstead, S.E.18._
+
+
+Stick-in-the-Mud
+
+We were in reserve at Roclincourt in February 1917, and about twenty
+men were detailed to carry rations to the front line. The trenches were
+knee-deep in mud.
+
+After traversing about two hundred yards of communication trench we
+struck a particularly thick, clayey patch, and every few yards the
+order "Halt in front!" was passed from the rear.
+
+The corporal leading the men got very annoyed at the all-too-frequent
+halts. He passed the word back, "What's the matter?" The reply was,
+"Shorty's in the mud, and we can't get 'im out."
+
+Waiting a few minutes, the corporal again passed a message back:
+"Haven't you got him out yet? How long are you going to be?" Reply came
+from the rear in a Cockney voice: "'Eaven knows! There's only 'is ears
+showin'."--_G. Kay, 162 Devonshire Avenue, Southsea, Hants._
+
+
+"If _That_ can stick it, _I_ can!"
+
+Owing to the forced marching during the retreat from Mons, men would
+fall out by the roadside and, after a rest, carry on again.
+
+One old soldier, "Buster" Smith, was lying down puffing and gasping
+when up rode an officer mounted upon an old horse that he had found
+straying.
+
+Going up to "Buster" the officer asked him if he thought he could
+"stick it."
+
+"Buster" looked up at the officer and then, eyeing the horse, said:
+"If _that_ can stick it, _I_ can," and, getting up, he resumed
+marching.--_E. Barwick, 19 St. Peter's Street, Hackney Road, E.2._
+
+
+Wheeling a Mule
+
+In November '15 we were relieved in the early hours of the morning.
+
+It had been raining, raining most of the time we were in the trenches,
+and so we were more or less wet through and covered in mud when we came
+out for a few days' rest.
+
+About two or three kilometres from Bethune we were all weary and fed-up
+with marching. Scarcely a word was spoken until we came across an
+Engineer leading a mule with a roll of telephone wire coiled round a
+wheel on its back. The mule looked as fed-up as we were, and a Cockney
+in our platoon shouted out, "Blimey, mate, if you're goin' much furver
+wiv the old 'oss yer'll 'ave to turn it on its back and wheel it."--_W.
+S. (late Coldstream Guards), Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+Three Brace of Braces
+
+While I was serving with the 58th Siege Battery at Carnoy, on the
+Somme, in 1916, a young Cockney of the 29th Division was discovered
+walking in front of three German prisoners. Over his shoulders he had
+three pairs of braces.
+
+[Illustration: "... while I got their 'harness' they can't get up to
+any mischief."]
+
+A wag asked him if he wanted to sell them, and his reply was: "No,
+these Fritzies gets 'em back when they gets to the cage. But while I
+got their 'harness' they can't get up to any mischief."--_E. Brinkman,
+16 Hornsey Street, Holloway Road, N.7._
+
+
+"Bow Bells" Warning
+
+At the beginning of March 1918, near Flesquieres, we captured a number
+of prisoners, some of whom were put in the charge of "Nipper," a native
+of Limehouse.
+
+I heard him address them as follows: "Nah, then, if yer wants a fag yer
+can have one, but, blimey, if yer starts any capers, I'll knock 'Bow
+Bells' aht of yer Stepney Church."--_J. Barlow (20th London Regt.), 18
+Roding Lane, Buckhurst Hill, Essex._
+
+
+"'Ave a Sniff"
+
+My father tells of a raw individual from London Town who had aroused
+great wrath by having within a space of an hour given two false alarms
+for gas. After the second error everyone was just drowsing off again
+when a figure cautiously put his head inside the dug-out, and hoarsely
+said: "'Ere, sergeant, yer might come and 'ave a sniff."--_R. Purser,
+St. Oama, Vista Road, Wickford, Essex._
+
+
+The Dirt Track
+
+While my regiment was in support at Ecurie, near Arras, I was detailed
+to take an urgent message to B.H.Q.
+
+I mounted a motor-cycle and started on my way, but I hadn't gone far
+when a shell burst right in my path and made a huge crater, into which
+I slipped. After going round the inside rim twice at about twenty-five
+miles an hour, I landed in the mud at the bottom. Pulling myself clear
+of the cycle, I saw two fellows looking down and laughing at me.
+
+"Funny, isn't it?" I said.
+
+"Yus, matey, thought it was Sanger's Circus. Where's the girl in the
+tights wot rides the 'orses?"
+
+Words failed me.--_London Yeomanry, Brixton, S.W._
+
+
+Babylon and Bully
+
+After a dismal trek across the mud of Mespot, my batman and I arrived
+at the ruins of Babylon. As I sat by the river under the trees, and
+gazed upon the stupendous ruins of the one-time mightiest city in the
+world, I thought of the words of the old Psalm--"By the waters of
+Babylon we sat down and wept----"
+
+And this was the actual spot!
+
+Moved by my thoughts, I turned to my batman and said, "By Jove, just
+think. This is really _Babylon_!"
+
+"Yes, sir," he replied, "but I'm a-wonderin' 'ow I'm goin' to do your
+bully beef up to-night to make a change like."--_W. L. Lamb (late R.E.,
+M.E.F.), "Sunnings," Sidley, Bexhill-on-Sea._
+
+
+Twice Nightly
+
+An attack was expected, and some men were kept in reserve in an
+underground excavation more closely resembling a tunnel than a trench.
+
+After about twenty hours' waiting in knee-deep mud and freezing cold,
+they were relieved by another group.
+
+As they were filing out one of the relief party said to one of those
+coming out, "Who are you?"
+
+"'Oo are we?" came the reply. "Cahn't yer see we're the fust 'ouse
+comin' aht o' the pit?"--_K. Haddon, 379 Rotherhithe New Road, North
+Camberwell, S.E.16._
+
+
+In Shining Armour
+
+A horrible wet night on the Locre-Dranoutre Road in 1914. A narrow
+strip of pave road and, on either side, mud of a real Flanders
+consistency.
+
+I was on my lawful occasions in a car, which was following a long
+supply column of five-ton lorries.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ere, ally off the perishin' pave, you knight in
+shinin' armour."]
+
+I need scarcely say that the car did not try to forsake the comparative
+security of the pave, but when a check of about a quarter of an hour
+occurred, I got down from the car and stumbled through the pouring
+rain, well above the boot-tops in mud, to the head of the column.
+
+Impasse barely describes the condition of things, for immediately
+facing the leading lorry was a squadron of French Cuirassiers, complete
+with "tin bellies" and helmets with horse-hair trimmings.
+
+This squadron was in command of a very haughty French captain, who
+seemed, in the light of the lorry's head-lamps, to have a bigger
+cuirass and helmet than his men.
+
+He was faced by a diminutive sergeant of the A.S.C., wet through, fed
+up, but complete with cigarette.
+
+Neither understood the other's language, but it was quite obvious that
+neither would leave the pave for the mud. Did the sergeant wring his
+hands or say to the officer, "Mon Capitaine, je vous en prie, etc."? He
+did not. He merely stood there, and, removing his cigarette from his
+mouth, uttered these immortal words:
+
+"'Ere, ally off the perishing pave, you son of a knight in shinin'
+armour!"
+
+And, believe me or believe me not, that is what the haughty one and his
+men did.--_"The Ancient Mariner," Sutton, Surrey._
+
+
+"A Blinkin' Paper-Chase?"
+
+One pitch black rainy night I was bringing up the rear of a party
+engaged in carrying up the line a number of trench mortar bombs known
+as "toffee-apples."
+
+We had become badly tailed-off during our progress through a maze of
+communication trenches knee-deep in mud, and as I staggered at last
+into the support trench with my load I spied a solitary individual
+standing on the fire-step gazing over the parapet.
+
+"Seen any Queen's pass this way?" I inquired.
+
+"Blimey," he replied, apparently fed-up with the constant repetition of
+the same question, "wot 'ave you blokes got on to-night---a blinkin'
+piper-chise?"--_W. H. Blakeman (late Sergt., Queen's R.W.S. Regt.), 22
+Shorts Road, Carshalton._
+
+
+Biscuits--Another Point of View
+
+In April 1915 my battalion was on the way up to take over a line of
+"grouse-butts"--there were no continuous trenches--in front of a
+pleasure resort by the name of Festubert.
+
+Arrived at Gore, a couple of miles or so from the line, we ran into
+some transport that had got thoroughly tied up, and had a wait of about
+half-an-hour while the joy-riders sorted themselves out. It was pitch
+dark and raining hard, and the occasional spot of confetti that came
+over added very little to the general enjoyment.
+
+As I moved up and down my platoon, the usual profane but humorous
+grousing was in full spate. At that time the ration arrangements were
+not so well organised as they afterwards became, and for some weeks the
+bulk of our banquets had consisted of bully and remarkably hard and
+unpalatable biscuits. The latter were a particularly sore point with
+the troops.
+
+As I listened, one rifleman held forth on the subject. "No blinkin'
+bread for five blinkin' weeks," he wound up--"nothin' but blinkin'
+biscuits that taste like sawdust an' break every tooth in yer perishin'
+'ed. 'Ow the 'ell do they expect yer to fight on stuff like that?"
+"Whatcher grousin' about?" drawled another weary voice. "Dawgs _lives_
+on biscuits, and they can fight like 'ell!"--_S. B. Skevington (late
+Major, 1st London Irish Rifles), 10 Berkeley Street, W.1._
+
+
+His Bird Bath
+
+A battalion of the Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regiment) was in
+support, and a private was endeavouring to wash himself as thoroughly
+as possible with about a pint of water in a mess-tin.
+
+A kindly disposed staff officer happened to come along, and seeing the
+man thus engaged, said, "Having a wash, my man?"
+
+[Illustration: "Wish I was a blinkin' canary: I could have a bath
+then."]
+
+Back came the reply, "Yus, and I wish I was a blinkin' canary. Could
+have a bath then."--_R. G. Scarborough, 89 Tennyson Avenue, New Maiden,
+Surrey._
+
+
+Ducking 'em---then Nursing 'em
+
+After the Cambrai affair of November 1917 our company came out of the
+line, but we had to salvage some very large and heavy shells.
+
+We had been carrying the shells in our arms for about an hour when I
+heard a fed-up Cockney turn to the sergeant and say: "'Ere 'ave I been
+duckin' me nut for years from these blinkin' fings---blimey, and nah
+I'm nursin' 'em!"---_Rfn. Elliott (late 17th K.R.R.C.), 9 Leghorn Road,
+Harlesden, N.W._
+
+
+Salonika Rhapsody
+
+Three of us were sitting by the support line on the Salonika front,
+conditions were fairly bad, rations were short and a mail was long
+overdue. We were fed-up. But the view across the Vardar Valley was some
+compensation.
+
+The wadis and plains, studded with bright flowers, the glistening river
+and the sun just setting behind the distant ridges and tinting the low
+clouds, combined to make a perfect picture. One of my pals, with a
+poetic temperament, rhapsodised on the scene for several minutes, and
+then asked our other mate what he thought. "Sooner see the blinkin'
+Old Kent Road!" was the answer of the peace-time costermonger.--_W. W.
+Wright, 24 Borthwick Road, E.15._
+
+
+A Ticklin' Tiddler
+
+In January 1915, near Richebourg, I was one of a ration-party being led
+back to the front line by a lance-corporal. The front line was a system
+of breast-works surrounded by old disused trenches filled with seven
+feet or so of icy-cold water.
+
+It was a very dark moonless night, and near the line our leader called
+out to those in the breast-works to ask them where the bridge was. He
+was told to step off by the broken tree. He did so and slid into the
+murky depths--the wrong tree!
+
+We got him out and he stood on dry (?) land, shining with moisture,
+full of strange oaths and vowing vengeance on the lad who had
+misdirected him.
+
+At stand-down in the dawn (hours afterwards) he was sipping his tot of
+rum. He had had no chance of drying his clothes. I asked how he felt.
+
+"Fresh as a pansy, mate," was his reply. "Won'erful 'ow a cold plunge
+bucks yer up! Blimey, I feel as if I could push a leave train from
+'ere to the base. 'Ere, put yer 'and dahn my tunic and see if that's
+a tiddler ticklin' me back."--_F. J. Reidy (late 1st K.R.R.s), 119
+Mayfair Avenue, Ilford._
+
+
+Biscuits and Geometry
+
+During a spell near St. Quentin our company existed chiefly on
+biscuits--much to the annoyance of one of our officers, who said he
+detested dogs' food.
+
+One evening he met the Cockney corporal who had just come up in charge
+of the ration party.
+
+Officer: "Any change to-night, corporal?"
+
+Corporal: "Yessir!"
+
+Officer: "Good! What have we got?"
+
+Corporal: "Rahnd 'uns instead of square 'uns, sir."--_R. Pitt (late
+M.G.C.), 54 Holland Park Avenue, W.11._
+
+
+All that was Wrong with the War
+
+Taking up ammunition to the guns at Passchendaele Ridge, I met a few
+infantrymen carrying duckboards.
+
+My mule was rather in the way and so one of the infantrymen, who
+belonged to a London regiment, gave him a push with his duckboard.
+
+Naturally, the mule simply let out and kicked him into a shell-hole
+full of water.
+
+[Illustration: "... and that's mules."]
+
+We got the unlucky fellow out, and his first action was to shake his
+fist at the mule and say: "There's only one thing I don't like in
+this blinking war and that's those perishin' mules!"--_H. E. Richards
+(R.F.A.), 67 Topsham Road, Upper Tooting, S.W.17._
+
+
+Not a Single Cockney
+
+In 1917, when we were acting as mobile artillery, we had halted by the
+roadside to water and feed our horses, and were just ready to move off
+when we were passed by a column of the Chinese Labour Corps, about
+2,000 of them.
+
+After they had all passed, a gunner from Clerkenwell said: "Would
+yer believe it? All that lot gorn by and I never reckernised a
+Townie!"--_C. Davis (late Sergeant, R.A., 3rd Cavalry Division), 7 Yew
+Tree Villas, Welling, Kent._
+
+
+Sanger's Circus on the Marne!
+
+On the way from the Marne to the Aisne in September 1914 the 5th
+Cavalry Brigade passed a column of Algerian native troops, who had been
+drawn up in a field to allow us to continue along the nearby road.
+
+The column had all the gaudy appearance of shop windows at Christmas.
+There were hooded vehicles with stars and crescents blazoned on them,
+drawn by bullocks, mules, and donkeys. The natives themselves were
+dressed, some in white robes and turbans, others in red "plus four"
+trousers and blue "Eton cut" jackets; and their red fezzes were adorned
+with stars and crescents. Altogether a picturesque sight, and one we
+did not expect to meet on the Western Front.
+
+On coming into view of this column, one of our lead drivers (from Bow)
+of a four-horse team drawing a pontoon wagon turned round to his wheel
+driver, and, pointing to the column with his whip, shouted, "Alf!
+Sanger's Circus!"--_H. W. Taylor (late R.E.), The Lodge, Radnor Works,
+Strawberry Vale, Twickenham._
+
+
+"Contemptible" Stuff
+
+When the rumour reached us about a medal for the troops who went out
+at the beginning, a few of us were sitting in a dug-out outside Ypres
+discussing the news.
+
+"Mac" said: "I wonder if they'll give us anything else beside the
+medal?"
+
+Our Cockney, Alf, remarked: "You got a lot to say about this 'ere
+bloomin' 'gong' (medal); anybody 'd fink you was goin' ter git one."
+
+"I came out in September '14, any way," said Mac.
+
+Alf (very indignant): "Blimey, 'ark at 'im! You don't 'arf expect
+somefink, you don't. Why, the blinkin' war was 'arf over by then."--_J.
+F. Grey (late D.L.I, and R.A.O.C.), 247 Ducane Road, Shepherd's Bush,
+W.12._
+
+
+A Cockney on Horseback---Just
+
+We were going out to rest after about four months behind the guns at
+Ypres, and the drivers brought up spare horses for us to ride. One
+Cockney gunner was heard to say, "I can't ride; I've never rode an
+'orse in me life." We helped him to get mounted, but we had not gone
+far when Jerry started sending 'em over. So we started trotting. To see
+our Cockney friend hanging on with his arms round the horse's neck was
+quite a treat!
+
+However, we eventually got back to the horse lines where our hero,
+having fallen off, remarked: "Well, after that, I fink if ever I do
+get back to Blighty I'll always raise me 'at to an 'orse."--_A. Lepley
+(late R.F.A.), 133 Blackwell Buildings, Whitechapel, E.1._
+
+
+A Too Sociable Horse
+
+We were asleep in our dug-out at Bray, on the Somme, in November 1915.
+The dug-out was cut in the bank of a field where our horse lines were.
+
+One of the horses broke loose and, taking a fancy to our roof, which
+was made of brushwood and rushes, started eating it.
+
+Suddenly the roof gave way and the horse fell through, narrowly missing
+myself and my pal, who was also a Cockney.
+
+[Illustration: "They want to come to bed wiv us."]
+
+After we had got over the shock my pal said, "Well, if that ain't the
+blinkin' latest. These long-eared blighters ain't satisfied with us
+looking after them--they want to come to bed with us."--_F. E. Snell
+(late 27th Brigade, R.F.A.), 22 Woodchester Street, Harrow Road, W.2._
+
+
+General Salute!
+
+While "resting" at Bully-Grenay in the winter of 1916 I witnessed the
+following incident:
+
+Major-General ---- and his A.D.C. were walking through the village
+when an elderly Cockney member of a Labour battalion (a typical London
+navvy) stumbled out of an estaminet. He almost collided with the
+general.
+
+Quickly pulling himself together and exclaiming "Blimey, the boss!" he
+gave a very non-military salute; but the general, tactfully ignoring
+his merry condition, had passed on.
+
+In spite of his pal's attempts to restrain him, he overtook the
+general, shouting "I did serlute yer, didn't I, guv'nor?"
+
+To which the general hastily replied: "Yes, yes, my man!"
+
+"Well," said the Cockney, "here's anuvver!"--_A. J. K. Davis (late
+20th London Regt., att. 73rd M.G.C.), Minnis Croft, Reculver Avenue,
+Birchington._
+
+
+Wipers-on-Sea
+
+Scene, "Wipers"; Time, winter of 1917.
+
+A very miserable-looking R.F.A. driver, wet to the skin, is riding a
+very weary mule through the rain.
+
+Voice from passing infantryman, in the unmistakable accent of Bow
+Bells: "Where y' goin', mate? Pier an' back?"--_A. Gelli (late H.A.C.),
+27 Langdon Park Road, Highgate, N.6._
+
+
+He Rescued His Shirt
+
+During the latter stages of the war, with the enemy in full retreat,
+supply columns and stores were in most cases left far behind. Those in
+the advance columns, when marching through occupied villages, often
+"won" articles of underclothing to make up for deficiencies.
+
+Camberwell Alf had a couple of striped "civvy" shirts, and had lent
+a less fortunate battery chum one of these on the understanding that
+it would be returned in due course. The same evening the battery
+was crossing a pontoon bridge when a mule became frightened at the
+oscillation of the wooden structure, reared wildly, and pitched its
+rider over the canvas screen into the river.
+
+Camberwell Alf immediately plunged into the water and rescued his
+unfortunate chum after a great struggle.
+
+Later the rescued one addressed his rescuer: "Thank yer, Alf, mate."
+
+"Don't yer 'mate' me, yer blinkin' perisher!" Alf replied. "Wot the
+'ell d'yer mean by muckin' abaht in the pahny (water) wiv my shirt
+on?"--_J. H. Hartnoll (late 30th Div. Artillery), 1 Durning Road, Upper
+Norwood, S.E.19._
+
+
+A Smile from the Prince
+
+One morning towards the end of May 1915, just before the battle of
+Festubert, my pal Bill and I were returning from the village bakery on
+the Festubert road to our billets at Gorre with a loaf each, which we
+had just bought.
+
+Turning the corner into the village we saw approaching us a company of
+the Grenadier Guards in battle order, with a slim young officer at the
+head carrying a stick almost as tall as himself. Directly behind the
+officer was a hefty Guardsman playing "Tipperary" on a concertina.
+
+We saluted the officer, who, after spotting the loaves of bread
+under our arms, looked straight at us, gave us a knowing smile and
+acknowledged our salute. It was not till then that we recognised who
+the officer was. It was the Prince of Wales.
+
+"Lumme!" said Bill. "There goes the Prince o' Wales hisself a-taking
+the guard to the Bank o' England!"--_J. F. Davis, 29 Faunce Street,
+S.E.17._
+
+
+"Just to Make Us Laugh"
+
+We were one of those unlucky fatigue parties detailed to carry
+ammunition to the forward machine gun positions in the Ypres sector.
+We started off in the dusk and trudged up to the line. The transport
+dumped the "ammo" at a convenient spot and left us to it. Then it
+started raining.
+
+The communication trenches were up to our boot tops in mud, so we left
+them and walked across the top. The ground was all chalky slime and we
+slipped and slid all over the place. Within a very short time we were
+wet through and, to make matters worse, we occasionally slipped into
+shell-holes half full of water (just to relieve the monotony!).
+
+We kept this up all night until the "ammo" had all been delivered; then
+the order came to march back to billets at Dranoutre. It was still
+pouring with rain, and when we came to Shrapnel Corner we saw the
+famous notice board: "Avoid raising Dust Clouds as it draws Enemy's
+Shell Fire."
+
+We were new to this part of the line and, just then, the idea of
+raising dust clouds was extremely ludicrous.
+
+I asked my pal Jarvis, who came from Greenwich, what he thought they
+put boards like that up for. His reply was typically Cockney: "I
+'spect they did that just to make us laugh, as we cawnt go to the
+picshures."--_Mack (late M.G.C.), Cathcart, The Heath, Dartford._
+
+
+No Use Arguing with a Mule
+
+Whilst "resting" after the Jerusalem battle, my battalion was detailed
+for road-making. Large stones were used for the foundation of the road
+and small and broken stones for the surface. Our job was to find the
+stones, _assisted_ by mules.
+
+A mule was new to Joe Smith--a great-hearted boy from Limehouse
+way--but he must have heard about them for he gingerly approached the
+one allotted to him, and as gingerly led him away into the hills.
+
+Presently Joe was seen returning, but, to our amazement, he was
+struggling along with the loaded baskets slung across his own
+shoulders, and the mule was trailing behind. When I asked why _he_ was
+carrying the load, he replied: "Well, I was loading 'im up wiv the
+stones, but he cut up rusty, so to save a lot of argument, I reckoned
+as 'ow I'd better carry the darned stones meself."---_A. C. Wood, 56
+Glasslyn Road, N.8._
+
+
+Kissing Time
+
+It was towards the end of '18, and we had got old Jerry well on the
+run. We had reached a village near Lille, which had been in German
+occupation, and the inhabitants were surging round us.
+
+[Illustration: "Take the rough with the smooth."]
+
+A corporal was having the time of his life, being kissed on both cheeks
+by the girls, but when it came to a bewhiskered French papa's turn the
+corporal hesitated. "Nah, then, corporal," shouted one of our boys, "be
+sporty! Take the rough with the smooth!"---_G. H. Harris (late C.S.M.,
+8th London Regt.), 65 Nelson Road, South Chingford, E.4._
+
+
+"Playin' Soldiers"
+
+We were in the Cambrai Salient, in support in the old Hindenburg Line.
+Close to us was a road where there were a ration dump and every other
+sort of dump. Everybody in the sector went through us to get rations,
+ammunition, stores, etc.
+
+There was just room in the trench for two men to pass. Snow had been on
+the ground for weeks, and the bottom of the trench was like glass. One
+night at stand-to the Drake Battalion crowded past us to get rations.
+On their return journey the leading man, with two sandbags of rations
+round his neck and a petrol can of water in each hand, fell over at
+every other step. Things were further complicated by a party of R.E.'s
+coming down the line with much barbed wire, in which this unfortunate
+"Drake" entangled himself.
+
+As he picked himself up for the umpteenth time, and without the least
+intention of being funny, I heard him say: "Well, if I ever catch that
+nipper of mine playin' soldiers, I won't 'arf knock 'is blinkin' block
+orf."--_A. M. B. (late Artists Rifles), Savage Club, W.C.2._
+
+
+Per Carrier
+
+During the occupation of the "foreshores of Gallipoli" in 1915 the
+troops were suffering from shortage of water.
+
+I and six more, including Tich, were detailed to carry petrol cans full
+of water up to the front line. We had rather a rough passage over very
+hilly ground, and more than one of us tripped over stones that were
+strewn across the path, causing us to say a few strong words.
+
+By the time we reached our destination we were just about all in, and
+on being challenged "Halt; who goes there?" Tich answered: "Carter
+Paterson and Co. with 'Adam's ale,' all nice and frothy!"--_D. W.
+Jordan (late 1/5th Essex, 54th Division), 109a Gilmore Road, Lewisham,
+S.E.13._
+
+
+"Enemy" in the Wire
+
+I was in charge of an advanced post on the Dorian front, Salonica,
+1917, which had been often raided by the Bulgars, and we were advised
+to be extra wary. In the event of an attack we were to fire a red
+flare, which was a signal for the artillery to put over a barrage.
+
+About 2 a.m. we heard a commotion in our wire, but, receiving no answer
+to our challenge, I decided to await further developments. The noise
+was soon repeated in a way that left no doubt in my mind that we were
+being attacked, so I ordered the section to open fire and sent up the
+signal for the guns.
+
+Imagine our surprise when, after all was quiet again, we heard the same
+noise in the wire. One of the sentries was a Cockney, and without a
+word he crawled over the parapet and disappeared in the direction of
+the noise.
+
+A few minutes later came the sound of smothered laughter, and the
+sentry returned with a hedgehog firmly fixed in an empty bully tin. It
+was the cause of our alarm!
+
+After releasing the animal from its predicament, the sentry said: "We'd
+better send the blighter to the Zoo, Corp, wiv a card to say 'this
+little pig put the wind up the troops, caused a fousand men to open
+fire, was bombed, machine-gunned, and shelled.' Blimey! I'd like to
+see the Gunner officer's face if he knew this."--_D. R. Payne, M.M.
+(ex-Worcester Regt.), 40 High Street, Overton, Hants._
+
+
+Straight from the Heart
+
+Under canvas at Rousseauville with 27th Squadron, R.F.C., early
+1918--wet season--raining hard--everything wet through and muddy--a
+"fed-up" gloomy feeling everywhere.
+
+We were trying to start a 3-ton lorry that was stuck in the mud on the
+aerodrome. After we had all had a shot at swinging the starting handle,
+the very Cockney driver of the lorry completely exhausted himself in
+yet another unsuccessful attempt to start up. Then, leaning against the
+radiator and pushing his cap back, he puffed out:
+
+"I dunno! These perishin' lorries are enough to take all the flamin'
+romance out of any blinkin' camp!"--_R. S. W. (Flying-Officer, R.A.F.
+Reserve), 52 Cavendish Road, N.W.6._
+
+
+Smile! Smile! SMILE!!
+
+Conversation between two Cockney members of a North Country regiment
+whilst proceeding along the Menin road in March 1918 as members of a
+wiring party:
+
+1st: I'm fed up with this stunt.
+
+2nd: Same 'ere. 'Tain't 'arf a life, ain't it? No rest, no beer,
+blinkin' leave stopped--er, got any fags?
+
+1st: No, mate.
+
+2nd: No fags, no nuffink. It's only us keepin' so ruddy cheerful as
+pulls us through.--_V. Marston, 232 Worple Road, Wimbledon, S.W.20._
+
+
+War's Lost Charm
+
+Time, winter of 1917: scene, a track towards Langemarck from Pilkem.
+Weather and general conditions--Flanders at its worst. My companion
+that night was an N.C.O. "out since 'fourteen," and we had plodded
+on in silence for some time. Suddenly behind me there was a slither,
+a splash, and a smothered remark as the sergeant skidded from the
+duckboard into an especially dirty shell hole.
+
+I helped him out and asked if he was all right. The reply came,
+"I'm all right, sir; but this blinkin' war seems to have lost its
+charm!"--_J. E. A. Whitman (Captain, late R.F.A.), The Hampden Club,
+N.W.1._
+
+
+Taking It Lying Down
+
+The 1st Battalion of the 25th Londons was preparing to march into
+Waziristan.
+
+Old Bert, the cook, diligently loading up a kneeling camel with dixies,
+pots and pans, and general cooking utensils, paused for a bit, wiped
+the sweat from his brow, and stood back with arms akimbo gazing with
+satisfaction upon his work.
+
+Then he went up to the camel, gave him a gentle prod, and grunted
+"Ooush, yer blighter, ooush" (i.e. rise). The camel turned gently over
+on his back, unshipping the whole cargo that Bert had worked so hard
+upon, and kicked his legs in the air.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer kitten?"]
+
+Poor old Bert looked at the wreckage and exclaimed, more in sorrow
+than in anger: "Blimey, don't yer understand yer own langwidge, yer
+kitten?"--_T. F. Chanter, 16 Atalanta Street, Fulham._
+
+
+The First Twenty Years
+
+It was round about Christmas 1917, and we were resting (?) at "Dirty
+Bucket Corner." The Christmas present we all had in view was a return
+to the line in front of Ypres.
+
+On the day before we were due to return the Christmas post arrived,
+and after the excitement had abated the usual "blueness" settled
+in--the craving for home comforts and "Blighty."
+
+My partners in the stretcher-bearing squad included a meek and mild man
+(I believe he was a schoolmaster before the war) and a Cockney from
+Seven Dials. We used to call him "Townie."
+
+Although the ex-schoolmaster would have had cause in more normal times
+to rejoice--for the post contained a letter telling him that he had
+become the father of a bonny boy--the news made him morbid.
+
+Of course, we all congratulated him. Meanwhile "Townie" was busy with
+a pencil and writing pad, and after a few minutes handed to the new
+parent a sheet of paper folded in half. The recipient unfolded it
+and looked at it for several seconds before the rest of us became
+interested and looked over his shoulder.
+
+The paper was covered with lines, circles, and writing that appeared to
+us like "double-Dutch."
+
+"What's this?" the father asked.
+
+"That's a map I drawed fer yer kid. It'll show him where the old
+pot and pan is when he's called up," and he concluded with this
+afterthought: "Tell 'im ter be careful of that ruddy shell-hole
+just acrost there. I've fallen in the perishin' thing twice this
+week."--_"Medico" (58th (London) Division), Clapham Common, S.W.11._
+
+
+Shell as a Hammer
+
+At one time the area just behind Vimy Ridge was plentifully sprinkled
+with enemy shells which had failed to explode. As these were considered
+a great source of danger they were indicated by "danger boards" nailed
+to pointed stakes driven into the ground.
+
+On one occasion, seeing a man engaged in so marking the resting-place
+of a "dud"--he was a cheerful Cockney, who whistled as he went about
+his job--I was much amused (though somewhat scared) to see him stop at
+a nearby shell, select a "danger board," pick up the shell, and proceed
+to use it as a hammer to drive the stake into the ground!--_H. S. A.
+(late Lieut., Suffolk Regt.), Glebe Road, Cheam._
+
+
+Sore Feet
+
+After the first battle of Ypres an old driver, whom we called
+"Krongie," had very bad feet, and one day reported sick at the
+estaminet where the M.O. held office.
+
+After the examination he ambled up the road, and when he was about 50
+yards away the M.O.'s orderly ran out and called: "Krongie, when you
+get to the column tell the farrier the M.O.'s horse has cast a shoe."
+
+"Krongie": "Ho, yus. You tell 'im ter give the blinkin' cheval a couple
+of number nines like he gave me for _my_ feet."--_P. Jones (R.H.A.), 6
+Ennis Road, N.4._
+
+
+My Sword Dance--by the C.O.
+
+A bitterly cold morning in winter, 1916, in the Ypres Salient. I was on
+duty at a gas alarm post in the front line when along came the colonel.
+
+He was the finest soldier and gentleman I ever had the pleasure to
+serve under (being an old soldier in two regiments before, I had
+experienced a few C.O.s). It was said he knew every man's name in the
+regiment. No officer dare start his own meal until every man of his
+company had been served. No fatigue or working party ever went up the
+line, no matter at what hour, without the colonel first inspected it.
+
+He had a mania for collecting spare ammunition, and more than once
+was seen taking up to the front line a roll of barbed wire over his
+shoulder hooked through his stick. To him every man was a son, and to
+the men's regret and officers' delight he soon became a general.
+
+This particular morning he approached me with "Good morning, Walker.
+You look cold. Had your rum?" To which I replied that I had, but it was
+a cold job remaining stationary for hours watching the wind.
+
+"Well," said the C.O., "do this with me." With that he started marking
+time at a quick pace on the duckboards and I did likewise. We kept it
+up for about two minutes, while others near had a good laugh.
+
+"Now you feel better, I know. Do this every ten minutes or so," he
+said, and away he went to continue his tour of inspection.
+
+My Cockney pal in the next bay, who, I noticed, had enjoyed the scene
+immensely, said, "Blimey, Jock, was he giving you a few lessons in
+the sword dance or the Highland Fling?"--_"Jock" Walker (late Royal
+Fusiliers), 29 Brockbank Road, Lewisham, S.E.13._
+
+
+A Big Bone in the Soup
+
+In Baghdad, 1917, "Buzzer" Lee and I were told off to do "flying
+sentry" round the officers' lines from 3 to 5 a.m. Well, we commenced
+our duty, and Buzzer suggested we visit the mess kitchen to see all was
+well, and in case there was anything worth "knocking off" (as he called
+it) in the way of char or scran (tea or bread and butter).
+
+The mess kitchen was in darkness, and Buzzer began scrounging around.
+After a while he said: "I've clicked, mate! Soup in a dixie!" By the
+light of a match he found a cup, removed the dixie lid, and took a cup
+of the "soup."
+
+"We're in the market this time, mate," said Buzzer, and took out a
+cupful for me.
+
+"It don't taste like Wood's down the New Cut," I said, doubtfully.
+
+He dipped the cup again and exclaimed: "'Ere, I've fahnd a big bone!"
+
+It was a new broom-head, however; it had been left in the dixie to soak
+for the night!--_G. H. Griggs (late Somerset L.I.), 3 Ribstone Street,
+Hackney, E.9._
+
+
+"I Shall have to Change Yer!"
+
+In the Ypres Salient in July 1915 Headquarters were anxious to know
+which German regiment was facing us. An immense Cockney corporal, who
+was particularly good on patrol, was instructed to secure a prisoner.
+
+[Illustration: "I shall have to take yer aht to-night and change yer."]
+
+After a night spent in No Man's Land he returned at dawn with a
+capture, an insignificant little German, trembling with fear, who stood
+about five foot nothing.
+
+Lifting him on to the fire-step and eyeing him critically, the
+corporal thus addressed him: "You won't do for our ole man; I shall
+have to take yer aht to-night and change yer!"--_S. Back, Merriams
+Farm, Leeds, near Maidstone._
+
+
+Scots Reveille
+
+Ours was the only kilted battalion in the division, and our bagpipes
+were often the subject of many humorous remarks from the other
+regiments.
+
+[Illustration: "There goes them perishin' 'toobs' agin."]
+
+On one occasion, while we were out resting just behind the line at
+Chateau de la Haye, we were billeted opposite a London regiment. Very
+early in the morning the bagpipes would sound the Scottish reveille--a
+rather long affair compared with the usual bugle call--and it did not
+please our London friends to be awakened in this manner.
+
+One morning while I was on early duty, and just as the pipers were
+passing, a very dismal face looked out of a billet and announced to his
+pals inside, "There goes them perishin' 'toobs' again."--_Arthur R.
+Blampied, D.C.M. (late London Scottish), 47 Lyndhurst Avenue, Streatham
+Hill, S.W.2._
+
+
+In the Negative
+
+A battalion of the London Regiment had been having a particularly
+gruelling time in the trenches, but some of the men were cheered with
+thoughts of impending leave. In fact, permission for them to proceed
+home was expected at any moment.
+
+At this time the Germans started a "big push" in another sector, and
+all leave was suddenly cancelled.
+
+An N.C.O. broke the news to the poor unfortunates in the following
+manner: "All you blokes wot's going on leaf, ain't going on leaf,
+'cause you're unlucky."
+
+In spite of the great disappointment, this way of putting it amused
+even the men concerned. The real Cockney spirit!--_S. C., Brighton._
+
+
+"An' That's All that 'Appened"
+
+Before going up the line we were stationed at Etaples, and were
+rather proud of our cook-house, but one day the colonel told the
+sergeant-major that he had heard some of the most unparliamentary
+language he had ever heard in his life emanating from the cook-house.
+
+The sergeant-major immediately called at the cook-house to find out the
+cause of the trouble, but our Cockney cook was very indignant. "What,
+_me_ Lord Mayor? [slang for 'swear']. No one's ever 'eard me Lord
+Mayor."
+
+"Don't lie to me," roared the sergeant-major. "What's happened here?"
+
+"Nuffin'," said the cook, "except that I slopped a dixie full of 'ot
+tea dahn Bill's neck. I said 'Sorry, Bill,' and Bill said 'Granted,
+'Arry,' an' that's all what's 'appened."--_Ryder Davies (late 1st Kent
+Cyclists, Royal West Kents), 20 Villa Road, S.W.9._
+
+
+Watching them "Fly Past"
+
+Our first big engagement was a counter-attack to recapture the trenches
+lost by the K.R.R.'s and R.B.'s on July 30, 1915, when "Jerry" used
+liquid fire for the first time and literally burned our chaps out.
+
+To get into action we had to go across open country in full view of
+the enemy. We began to get it "in the neck" as soon as we got to "Hell
+Fire Corner," on our way to Zillebeke Lake. Our casualties were heavy,
+caused by shell fire, also by a German aeroplane which was flying very
+low overhead and using its machine gun on us.
+
+My pal, Wally Robins (later awarded M.M., promoted corporal, and killed
+at Lens), our company humorist, was looking up at the 'plane when a
+shell landed, killing several men in front of him.
+
+As he fell I thought he too had caught it. I rushed to him anxiously
+and said, "Are you hurt?"
+
+This was his reply: "I should think I am. I wish they would keep their
+bloomin' aeroplanes out of the way. If I hadn't been looking up at that
+I shouldn't have fallen over that blinkin' barbed wire stake."--_E. W.
+Fellows, M.M. (late Corporal, 6th Battn., D.C.L.I.), 33 Dunlace Road,
+Clapton, E.5._
+
+
+High Necks and Low
+
+After the first Battle of Ypres in 1914 the Scots Guards were being
+relieved by a well-known London regiment.
+
+A diminutive Cockney looked up at a six-foot Guardsman and asked him
+what it was like in the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "'Oo's neck?"]
+
+"Up to your neck in mud," said the Guardsman.
+
+"Blimey, oo's neck?" asked the little chap.--_H. Rogers (late 116th
+Battery, 1st Div. R.F.A.), 10 Ashley Road, Richmond, Surrey._
+
+
+Too Light--by One Rissole
+
+During the night before my Division (21st) attacked, on October 4,
+1917, my unit was in the tunnel under the road at "Clapham Junction,"
+near Hooge.
+
+Rations having failed to arrive, each man was given a rissole and a
+packet of chewing-gum. We went over about 6 a.m., and, despite rather
+severe losses, managed to push our line forward about 1,300 yards.
+
+When we were back in "rest" dug-outs at Zillebeke, our officer
+happening to comment on our "feed" prior to the attack, my mate said:
+"Yus. Blinkin' good job for old Jerry we never had two rissoles a
+man--we might have shoved him back to Berlin!"--_C. Hartridge, 92
+Lancaster Street, S.E.1._
+
+
+Psyche--"at the Barf!"
+
+I was billeting at Witternesse, near Aire, for a battery coming out of
+the line for rest and training prior to the August 1918 push.
+
+I was very anxious to find a place where the troops could have a
+much-needed bath. The only spot was a barn, in which were two rusty old
+iron baths.
+
+Further inspection showed that one was in use. On being asked who he
+was, the occupant stood up and replied in a Cockney voice: "Sikey at
+the Barf!"--_H. Thomas, "Ivydene," Herne Grove, East Dulwich, S.E.22._
+
+
+A Juggler's Struggles
+
+We were disembarking at Ostend in 1914. Each man was expected to carry
+as much stores as he could. Our Cockney Marine was struggling down the
+gangway--full marching order, rifle slung round his neck, kitbag under
+his arm, and a box in each hand.
+
+As he balanced the boxes we heard him mutter, "S'pose, if I juggle this
+lot orlright they'll poke annuver in my mouf."--_Thomas Bilson (late
+Colour-Sergeant, Royal Marines), 56 The Strand, Walmer, Kent._
+
+
+Almost a Wireless Story
+
+Sir Sidney Lawford was to inspect our wagon lines in Italy, and we had
+received notice of his coming. Consequently we had been up since about
+5 a.m. making things ship-shape.
+
+One of the fatigues had been picking up all the spare wire lying
+about--wire from hay and straw bales, telephone wire, barbed wire, wire
+from broken hop poles, miscellaneous wire of all sorts.
+
+Sir Sidney Lawford arrived about 11 a.m. with a number of his staff,
+dismounted ... and promptly tripped over a piece of wire. Imagine
+our chagrin. However, the feeling passed away when a Cockney driver
+(evidently one of the wire-collecting fatigue) said in a voice audible
+to everyone as he peeped from under the horse he was supposed to be
+grooming: "Blimey, if he ain't fallen over the only piece of blinking
+wire in Italy!"--_F. Praid (late Lieut., R.F.A., 41st Div.), 88a High
+Street, Staines._
+
+
+When the S.M. Got Loose
+
+We were behind the lines at Merville in 1914. It was raining hard and
+it was night. "Smudger" Smith, from Lambeth, was on night guard. The
+horses were pulling their pegs out of the mud and getting loose, and
+"Smudger" was having a busy time running around and catching them and
+knocking the pegs in again with a mallet.
+
+[Illustration: "Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"]
+
+The sergeant-major, with a waterproof sheet over his head, visited the
+lines. "Smudger," seeing something moving about in the dark, crept up,
+and muttered, "Wot, yer loose again, yer blighter?"--and down went the
+sergeant-major.--_W.S. (late Queen's Bays), 2 Winsover Road, Spalding._
+
+
+Mons, 1914--Not Moscow, 1812!
+
+In 1914 we of the 2nd Cavalry Brigade were going up to support the
+infantry somewhere near Mons, and when nearing our destination we saw
+several wounded being carried from the line.
+
+Following them, seemingly quite unconcerned, was an infantry transport
+driver, who cut a queer figure. He was wearing a stocking hat, and was
+mounted on an old mule. Thrown over the mule, with the tail-end round
+the mule's neck, was a German's blood-bespattered overcoat.
+
+[Illustration: "Napoleon's retreat from Moscow ain't in it wiv this!"]
+
+One of our troop addressed the rider thus: "Many up there, mate?"
+
+He answered: "Millions! You 'ave a go. We can't shift 'em. They've took
+root, I fink."
+
+He then dug both heels into the mule and, looking round with a bored
+expression, exclaimed: "Talk about Napoleon's blinkin' retreat from
+Moscow, it ain't ruddy well in it wiv this!"
+
+And he rode on.--_W. Baker (late 3rd Hussars), 35 Tunstall Road,
+Brixton, S.W.9._
+
+
+The S.M. knew "Mulese"
+
+During the Somme offensive in 1916 I was one of a party carrying
+rations up to the front line. We came upon a mule which was having a
+few pranks and pulling the chap who was leading it all over the road.
+
+This man turned out to be an old Cockney pal of mine in the East
+Surreys. I said, "Hello, Jim, what's the matter?"
+
+"Blimey," he replied, "'e won't do nuffink for me, so I'm taking 'im
+back to our sergeant-major, as 'e talks the mule langwidge."--_C. A.
+Fairhead (late R.W. Kent Regt.), 16 Council Cottages, Ford Corner,
+Yapton, Sussex._
+
+
+Lost: One Star
+
+We were on our way to the front line trenches one wet and dreary night
+when our subaltern realised that we were lost. He asked our sergeant
+if he could see the North Star. My Cockney pal, fed up, as we all
+were, turned to me and said: "Pass the word back and ask if anyone 'as
+got a Nawth Star in his pocket."--_H. J. Perry, 42 Wells House Road,
+Willesden Junction, N.W.10._
+
+
+Simpler than Sounding It
+
+After leaving Gallipoli in December 1915 our battalion (4th Essex) were
+in camp near the pyramids in Egypt.
+
+"Pro Tem." we reverted to peace-time routine, and brought the
+buglers into commission again. One bugler was making a rather rotten
+show at sounding the "fall-in"--his "lip" being out of practice, I
+suppose--when a bored Cockney roared out, "Go rahnd and tell 'em."--_H.
+Barlow, 5 Brooklands, Abbs Cross Lane, Hornchurch._
+
+
+Under the Cart
+
+The place was a rest billet, which we had just reached after a
+gruelling on the Somme. Time, 12.30 a.m., dark as pitch and pouring
+with rain.
+
+A despatch-rider arrived with an "urgent" message from H.Q., "Must have
+the number of your water-cart."
+
+Out of bed, or its substitute, were brought the regimental
+sergeant-major, the orderly-room clerk, and the quartermaster-sergeant
+(a director of a London shipping firm bearing his name). All the
+light we had was the end of a candle, and as the Q.M.S. was crawling
+in the mud under the water-cart trying to find the number the candle
+flickered, whereupon the Cockney sergeant-major exclaimed: "For
+Heaven's sake, stop that candle from flickerin', or our blinkin' staff
+will think we're signalling to Jerry!"
+
+The look on the Q.M.S.'s face as he sat in the mud made even the soaked
+despatch-rider laugh.
+
+"What's the number of your water-cart?" became a byword with the
+boys.--_W. J. Smallbone (late R.M.S., 56th Field Ambulance, 18th
+Division), 22 Stoneycroft Road, Woodford Bridge, Woodford Green, Essex._
+
+
+The Lion Laughed up his Sleeve
+
+I had been driving a lorry all day in the East African bush with a
+Cockney escort. When we "parked" for the night I invited the escort to
+sleep under cover in the lorry, as I was going to do. But he refused,
+saying proudly that he had slept in the open since he had landed in
+Africa. So, undressing, he proceeded to make the rim of the rear wheel
+his pillow, covering himself with a blanket and greatcoat.
+
+About 1 a.m. I was awakened by hearing someone climbing over the
+tail-board. Responding to my challenge the Cockney said: "It's all
+right. The blighter's been and pinched my blanket and greatcoat. It's a
+good job I had my shirt on." We found next morning that a lion had run
+off with them: about 100 yards away they lay, and one sleeve was torn
+out of the coat.--_H. J. Lake, 40a Chagford Street, N.W.1._
+
+
+The Carman's Sarcasm
+
+While our allies, the Portuguese, were holding part of the line to the
+left of Festubert, a Portuguese officer rode up on the most emaciated
+and broken-down old "crock" I had set eyes on.
+
+He dismounted and was looking round for somewhere to tether the horse,
+when one of our drivers, a Cockney carman in "civvy" life, cast a
+critical eye over the mount and bawled out, "Don't worry abaht tying it
+up, mate. _Lean it up agin this 'ere fence._"--_A. G. Lodge (Sergeant,
+25th Division Artillery), 12 Derinton Road, S.W.17._
+
+
+Burying a Lorry
+
+During the Battle of the Somme, near Ginchy, a R.A.S.C. motor-lorry ran
+off the main track in the darkness and got stuck in the mud. The driver
+came to our battery near by and asked for help, so six gunners and I
+volunteered and set out with shovels.
+
+On arriving at the scene, there was the motor-lorry almost buried to
+the top of the wheels. We all stood around surveying the scene in
+silence, wondering how best to make a start, when the Cockney member
+of the volunteer party burst out with: "Lummy, the quickest way out of
+this is to shovel some more blinkin' dirt on top, an' bury it."--_H.
+Wright (ex-Sig./Bdr., C/74 Bde., R.F.A.), 45 Colehill Lane, Fulham,
+S.W.6._
+
+
+Striking a Bargain
+
+During the battle of the Narrows at the Dardanelles (March 18, 1915) I
+was in charge of No. 3 stokehold in H.M.S. _Vengeance_. The front line
+of ships engaged consisted of _Irresistible_, _Ocean_, _Vengeance_, and
+an old French battleship, the _Bouvet_. The stokers off watch were the
+ambulance party and fire brigade.
+
+[Illustration: "Give us yer week's 'navy' and I'll let yer aht."]
+
+When the battle was at its height one of the fire brigade, a Cockney,
+kept us informed of what was going on, and this is the news we received
+down the ash hoist:
+
+"_Ocean_ and _Irresistible_ 'as gorn darn, the Froggy's gone up in
+smoke: our blinkin' turn next.
+
+"Pat, give us yer week's 'navy' (rum ration) and I'll lift this
+bloomin' 'atch (armoured grating) and let yer aht!"--_"Ajax," 23 King's
+Drive, Gravesend, Kent._
+
+
+Bugling in 'Indoostanee
+
+After the evacuation of Gallipoli a transport was conveying British
+troops to Egypt.
+
+The O.C. wanted a trumpeter or bugler to follow him around during the
+daily lifeboat parade and to sound the "Dismiss" at the end. The only
+one available was an Indian trumpeter, who had not blown a trumpet or
+bugle since 1914. He was ordered for the duty.
+
+On the first day, immediately after the inspection was over, the
+O.C. gave orders for the trumpeter to sound the "Dismiss." After the
+trumpeter had finished, the O.C., with a look of astonishment on his
+face, gasped, "What's that? I never heard it sounded like that before."
+
+Came a Cockney voice from the rear rank, "'E sounded it in 'Indoostanee,
+sir."--_M. C., Surrey._
+
+
+"For 'eaven's sake, stop sniffin'!"
+
+Our sector of the line at Loos was anticipating a raid by the Germans
+and the whole battalion was ordered to "stand to" all night.
+
+Double sentries were posted at intervals of a few feet with orders to
+report any suspicious shadows in No Man's Land.
+
+All eyes and ears were strained in an effort to locate any movement in
+the darkness beyond the parapet.
+
+Strict silence was to be maintained, and the guns had been ordered to
+hang fire so that we might give the Germans a surprise welcome if they
+came over.
+
+The ominous stillness was broken at last by a young Cockney saying
+to his pal standing with him on the fire-step: "For 'Eaven's sake,
+stop sniffin', Porky. How d'yer fink we'll 'ear Jerry if he comes
+acrorst?"--_C. J. Blake, 29a Collingbourne Road, Shepherd's Bush, W.12._
+
+
+Babes in the Salonika Wood
+
+I was with the Salonika Force on the Dorian front. One night while
+an important raid was on my platoon was told off to seize a big wood
+between the lines and make sure it was clear of Bulgars, who could
+otherwise have enfiladed the main raiding party.
+
+The orders were "absolute silence, and no firing unless the other side
+fires first." I halted my men behind a fold in the ground near the wood
+and called up two men and told them to creep forward and see if the
+wood was occupied.
+
+It was nasty work as the first news of any Bulgars would almost
+certainly have been a bayonet in the back from somebody perfectly
+concealed behind a tree.
+
+I asked them if the instructions were quite clear and one of them,
+Charlie, from Limehouse, whispered back:
+
+"Yessir! We're going to be the Babes in the Wood, and if the Wicked
+Uncles is out to-night we don't fire unless they fires first. Come on,
+George (to his companion), there's going to be some dirty work for the
+Little Robin Redbreasts to-morrer!"--_A. Forsyth (late Army Cyclist
+Corps), 65 St. Martin's Lane, W.C.2._
+
+
+Bringing it Home to Him
+
+For several months in 1917 matches were rationed in a Y.M.C.A.
+rest-camp canteen, somewhere in France. There entered during this time
+a war-worn Cockney, a drawn, tired look still in his eyes, and the mud
+of the trenches on his uniform and boots. He asked for cigarettes and
+matches, and was told there were no matches.
+
+"Wot, no matches? 'Ow am I goin' ter light me fags, miss?"
+
+"You see matches are rationed now," I said, "and the few we are allowed
+run out at once."
+
+With a weary sigh, as if a great truth had dawned upon him, he said
+pathetically:
+
+"Lumme, that do bring the war 'ome to a bloke, don't it, miss?"--_Miss
+H. Campbell, Pennerly Lodge, Beaulieu, Hants._
+
+
+After the Feast
+
+The company dinner on Christmas Day 1917 was eaten in a large barn at
+Ribemont, on the Somme, and before this extra special feast began an
+affable "old sweat," one Billy Williams, of London Town, volunteered
+for the clearing-up party.
+
+It was a long sitting and some considerable time before the men began
+to wander back to their billets, and it fell to the most capable of the
+orderlies to clear up the debris.
+
+This had just been accomplished to the satisfaction of the orderly
+officer when out of the barn strode old Billy carrying a dixie full of
+beer. "Where are you going with that, Williams?" asked the officer.
+
+Springing smartly to attention, and with a pained look upon his face,
+old Billy replied: "This 'ere, sir? Sick man in the 'ut, sir!"--_R. E.
+Shirley (late The London Regiment), 5 Staunton Road, Kingston, Surrey._
+
+
+Wait for the "Two Pennies, Please"
+
+Near the River Struma, on the Salonika front, in March 1917 our brigade
+H.Q. was on the extreme right of the divisional artillery and near a
+French artillery brigade.
+
+For the purpose of maintaining communication a French telephonist was
+quartered in our dug-out. Whenever he wished to get into communication
+with his headquarters he unmercifully thumped the field telephone and
+in an excitable voice called out: "_'Ullo, mon capitaine_," five or six
+times in half as many seconds.
+
+Greatly impressed by one of these sudden outbursts, the adjutant's
+batman--a typical Cockney--exclaimed in a hurt voice: "Nah then, matey,
+jest cool yerself a bit till the young lidy tells yer to put in yer
+two coppers!"--_F. G. Pickwick (301 Brigade R.F.A.), 100 Hubert Grove,
+Stockwell, S.W.9._
+
+
+The General Goes Skating
+
+One horribly wet day during the winter of 1915 I met the Brigadier
+paying his morning visit to the front line and accompanied him along
+my section of the trench. Entering one fire-bay, the gallant General
+slipped and sat down uncommonly hard in the mud.
+
+[Illustration: "'Ere, chum, get up; this ain't a skatin' rink."]
+
+Discipline stifled any desire on my part for mirth, but to my horror,
+the sentry in that bay, without turning away from his periscope, called
+over his shoulder in unmistakable Cockney accents: "'Ere, chum, get up;
+this ain't a blinkin' skatin' rink!"
+
+Fortunately the General's sense of humour was equal to the occasion,
+and he replied to the now horror-stricken sentry with an affable
+"Quite."--_"Company Commander," Orpington, Kent._
+
+
+"To Top Things Up"
+
+During the early part of 1916 a few picked men from the North Sea Fleet
+were sent on a short tour of the Western Front to get an accurate
+idea of the work of the sister Service. One or two of these men were
+attached to my company for a few days in January when we were at
+Givenchy--a fairly lively spot at that time. The morning after their
+arrival there was some pretty heavy firing and bombing, which soon died
+down to normal.
+
+Later in the day, as I was passing down the line, I asked one of our
+guests (an out-and-out Londoner) what he thought of things. He shook
+his head mournfully. "I thought the blighters was coming over after all
+that gun-fire this morning, sir," he said. "I been in a naval action; I
+been submarined; I been bombed by aeroplanes; and, blimey, I did 'ope
+I'd be in a bay'nit charge, just to top things up."--_L. V. Upward
+(late Capt. R.N.), 14 Lyndhurst Road, Hampstead, N.W.3._
+
+
+Luck in the Family
+
+A cockney R.A.S.C. driver had been knocked down and badly injured by a
+staff-officer's car.
+
+On recovering consciousness in hospital, he highly amused the doctor
+by exclaiming, "Well, me gran'farver was kicked by a Derby winner, me
+farver knew Dr. Crippen, an' 'ere's me gets a blighty orf a brass-'at's
+Rolls-bloomin'-Royce. It's funny 'ow luck runs in famblys!"--_J. F. C.,
+Langdon Park Road, N. 6._
+
+
+"I'm Drownded"
+
+We were going into the line in front of Cambrai, in November 1917, and
+were walking in single file. The night was pitch black. Word came down
+at intervals from the leading file, "'Ware wire," "'Ware shell-hole."
+
+My pal, a Cockney, was in front of me. Suddenly I heard a muffled
+curse--he had deviated and paid the penalty by falling into a
+particularly deep shell-hole filled with mud and water.
+
+I stumbled to the edge of the hole and peered down and saw his face. I
+asked him if he was all right, and back came the reply, "Blimey, I'm
+drownded, so let the missus know I died like a sailor."
+
+Three days later he did die ... like a soldier.--_Ex-Rfn. John S.
+Brown, 94 Masterman Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+Not a New World's Wonder
+
+The regiment had reached Hebuterne after marching from St. Amand, and a
+party of us was detailed to carry stuff up to the front line.
+
+[Illustration: "There's only seven wonders."]
+
+One of our number, a hefty Cockney, besides being in full marching
+order, had a bag of bombs and a couple of screw pickets. A sergeant
+then handed him some petrol tins. With a look of profound disgust, the
+Cockney dropped the tins and remarked, "Chuck it, mate; there's only
+seven wonders in this blinkin' world."--_W. G. H. Cox (late 16th London
+Regt.), 9 Longstaff Crescent, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+Lads of the Village
+
+While en route from the Western to the Italian front we were held up at
+an Italian wayside station and, hearing that we had some time to wait,
+our cook says, "Nah's our chance to make some tea."
+
+So we dragged our boiler on to the end of the platform, scrounged some
+wood, and soon had the fire going and the water on the boil. "Nah we
+will get the tea and sugar," says the cook. When we returned we found
+that the chimney of the boiler had disappeared, smoke and flames were
+roaring up, and the water was ruined by soot.
+
+An Italian soldier was standing by, looking on. "Somebody's pinched our
+chimbley," gasped the cook, "and I've got an idea that this Italian
+fellow knows somefing abaht it."
+
+Back came the reply from the Italian, in pure Cockney: "I ain't pinched
+yer chimbley, mate!"
+
+"What! yer speak our lingo?" says the cook. "What part of the Village
+do yer come from?"
+
+"Clerkenwell," was the reply.
+
+"Give us yer mitt," says the cook. "I'm from the same parish. And nah
+I knows that yer couldn't 'ave pinched our chimbley. It must have been
+one of them scrounging Cockneys."--_H. Howard, 26 Hanover Street,
+Islington, N.1._
+
+
+Before 1914, When Men Worked
+
+Night after night, for three weeks, with never a night off, we took
+ammunition up for the guns at Ypres in 1917. Sometimes we couldn't get
+back until 5 a.m. or 6 a.m.--and the day was spent feeding and grooming
+the horses, cleaning harness, and a hundred odd jobs besides.
+
+We had built a bit of a shack, and in this I was writing a letter home,
+and one of my drivers noticed my handwriting on the envelope.
+
+"Coo, Corp! You can't 'arf write! 'Ow did yer learn it?" he said.
+
+I told him I had been in an insurance office before I joined up.
+
+"Lumme!" he exclaimed, "did yer _work_ once, Corp?"--_David Phillips
+(late R.F.A.), The Ship Inn, Soham, near Ely, Cambridgeshire._
+
+
+Their Fatigue
+
+In August 1915, our Division was moved to the Loos area in preparation
+for the battle which began on September 25, and I well remember the
+long march which brought us to our destination--the mining village of
+Noeux-les-Mines, about a mile from Mazingarbe.
+
+We ended the hard and tiring journey at a spot where a huge slag-heap
+towered above our heads to a height of seventy or eighty feet. On our
+arrival here there were the usual fatigue parties to parade, and with
+everyone tired and weary this was an unthankful duty.
+
+The youngest Cockney in my section, who was always cheerful, hearing
+me detailing men for fatigue, shouted out, "Come on, mites; paride
+with spoons and mess-tins. The blinking fattygue party will shift this
+perishin' slag-heap from 'ere to Mazingarbe."--_Herbert W. Bassett
+(Cpl. attached 47th London Division), 41 Argyle Road, Sevenoaks, Kent._
+
+
+Teaching Bulgars the Three-card Trick
+
+At Butkova, on the right of Lake Doiran, in 1917, we had surprised the
+Bulgar and had pushed forward as far as the foot of the Belashitsa
+Mountains, the reserve position of the enemy.
+
+After a sharp encounter we retired, according to plan, and on the
+return to our lines we heard murmurings in a nullah to our right.
+
+[Illustration: "Find der lidy--dere you are--over yer go--under yer
+go--nah find 'er!"]
+
+Motioning to me and the section corporal, our platoon commander
+advanced cautiously towards the nullah and you can imagine our surprise
+when we discovered "Dido" Plumpton calmly showing the "three-card
+trick" to the two Bulgar prisoners he had been detailed to escort. He
+was telling his mystified audience: "Find der lidy--dere you are--over
+yer go--under yer go--_nah_ find 'er!"--_Alfred Tall (late 2nd East
+Kents), 204 Hoxton Street, N.1._
+
+
+
+
+3. HOSPITAL
+
+
+"Tich" Meets the King
+
+In a large ward in a military hospital in London there was a little
+Cockney drummer boy of eighteen years who had lost both legs from
+shell fire. In spite of his calamity and the suffering he endured
+from numerous operations for the removal of bone, he was one of the
+cheeriest boys in the ward.
+
+At that time many men in the ward had limbs amputated because of
+frost-bite, and it was quite a usual thing for a visitor to remark,
+"Have you had frost-bite?"
+
+Nothing made Tich so furious as the suggestion that he should have lost
+his limbs by any, to his mind, second-rate way. If he were asked, "Have
+you had frost-bite?" he would look up with disgust and reply, "Naow---a
+flea bit me!" If, however, he was asked, "Were you wounded?" he would
+smile and say, "Not 'arf!"
+
+A visit was expected from the King, and the Tommies kept asking Tich
+what he would say if the King said, "Have you had frost-bite?" "You
+wite!" said Tich.
+
+I was standing with the Sister near to Tich in his wheel-chair when the
+King approached. His Majesty at once noticed Tich was legless, and said
+in his kind way, "Well, my man, how are you getting on?"
+
+"Splendid, sir!" said Tich.
+
+"How did it happen?" asked the King.
+
+"Wounded, sir--shell," replied Tich, all smiles.
+
+Tich's opinion of the King soared higher than ever.---_M. A. Kennedy
+(late V.A.D., Royal Military Hospital, Woolwich), 70 Windmill Hill,
+Enfield, Middlesex._
+
+
+Putting the Lid on It
+
+It was "clearing day" at the 56th General Hospital, Wimereux. Nurses
+and orderlies were having a busy morning getting ready the patients who
+were going to Blighty. Nearly all of them had been taken out to the
+waiting ambulances except my Cockney friend in the bed next to mine,
+who had just had an arm amputated and was very ill.
+
+Two orderlies came down the ward bearing a stretcher with an oblong box
+fixed on to it (to prevent jolting while travelling). They placed it
+beside my friend's bed, and, having dressed him, put him in the box on
+the stretcher. Then a nurse wrapped him up in blankets, and after she
+had finished she said: "There you are. Feeling nice and comfortable?"
+
+"Fine," said he, "but don't put the lid on before I have kissed the
+orderly good-bye."--_E. C., Hackney, E.8._
+
+
+Riddled in the Sands
+
+One of the finest exhibitions of Cockney spirit I saw during the war
+occurred in Mesopotamia after the Battle of Shaiba (April 1915), in
+which we had completely routed the Turkish army.
+
+[Illustration: "Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full of holes
+I'd be sure to sink."]
+
+We were busy evacuating the wounded in boats across the six-mile
+stretch of water which separated us from Basra. A sergeant who had
+been hit by no fewer than six machine-gun bullets was brought down in
+a stretcher to be put in one of the boats. As I superintended this
+manoeuvre he said to me: "Don't drop me in the water, sir. I'm so full
+of holes I'd be sure to sink!"--_F. C. Fraser (Lieut.-Col., Ind. Med.
+Service), 309 Brownhill Road, Catford, S.E.6._
+
+
+Season!
+
+A cockney soldier, badly hit for the third time, was about to be
+carried once more on board the ambulance train at Folkestone. When the
+bearers came to his stretcher, one said to the other, "What's it say on
+his ticket?"
+
+"Season!" said a voice from the stretcher.--_Rev. A. T. Greenwood,
+Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+Where's the Milk and Honey?
+
+A medical Officer of a London division in Palestine was explaining to
+a dying Cockney in his field ambulance at Bethlehem how sorry he was
+that he had no special comforts to ease his last moments, when the man,
+with a cheery grin, remarked: "Oh, that's all right, sir. Yer reads as
+'ow this 'ere 'Oly Land is flowing with milk and 'oney; but I ain't
+seen any 'oney myself, and in our battery there's 15 men to a tin o'
+milk."--_E. T. Middleton, 32 Denmark Road, West Ealing, W.13._
+
+
+"Lunnon"
+
+He was my sergeant-major. Having on one occasion missed death literally
+by inches, he said coolly: "Them blighters can't 'it 'arf as smart as
+my missus when she's roused." I last saw him at Charing Cross Station.
+We were both casualties. All the way from Dover he had moaned one
+word--"Lunnon." At Charing Cross they laid his stretcher beside mine.
+He was half conscious. Suddenly he revived and called out, his voice
+boyish and jolly: "Good 'ole Charin' Crawss," and fell back dead.--_G.
+W. R., Norwich, Norfolk._
+
+
+Sparing the M.O.
+
+It was during some open warfare in France. The scene a small room full
+of badly wounded men; all the remainder have been hurriedly removed,
+or rather, not brought in here. There are no beds; the men lie on the
+floor close together.
+
+I rise to stretch my back after dressing one. My foot strikes another
+foot. A yell of agony--the foot was attached to a badly shattered thigh.
+
+An insistent, earnest chorus: "You _didn't_ 'urt him, sir. 'E often
+makes a noise like that."
+
+I feel a hand take mine, and, looking down, I see it in the grasp of a
+man with three gaping wounds. "It _wasn't_ your fault, sir," he says,
+in a fierce, hoarse whisper.
+
+And then I realise that not a soul in that room but takes it for
+granted that my mental anguish for my stupidity is greater than his own
+physical pain, and is doing his best to deaden it for me--one, at any
+rate, at great cost to himself.
+
+In whose ranks are the world's great gentlemen?--_"The Clumsy Fool,"
+Guy's Hospital, E.C._
+
+
+"Robbery with Violence"
+
+A Cockney soldier had his leg shattered. When he came round in hospital
+the doctors told him they had been obliged to take his leg off.
+
+"Taken my leg off? Blimey! Where is it? Hi, wot yer done wiv it? Fer
+'Eaven's sake, find my leg, somebody; it's got seven and a tanner in
+the stocking."--_S. W. Baker, 23 Trinity Road, Bedford._
+
+
+Seven His Lucky Number
+
+Scene: the plank road outside St. Jean. Stretcher-bearers bringing down
+a man whose left leg had been blown away below the knee. A man coming
+up recognises the man on the stretcher, and the following conversation
+ensues:
+
+"Hello, Bill!" Then, catching sight of the left leg: "Blimey! You ain't
+'arf copped it."
+
+The Reply: A faint smile, a right hand feebly pointing to the left
+sleeve already bearing _six_ gold stripes, and a hoarse voice which
+said, "Anuvver one, and seven's me lucky number."--_S. G. Wallis
+Norton, Norton House, Peaks Hill, Purley._
+
+
+Blind Man's Buff
+
+The hospital ship _Dunluce Castle_, on which I was serving, was taking
+the wounded and sick from Gallipoli. Among the wounded brought on board
+one evening was a man who was badly hurt about his face. Our M.O.
+thought the poor chap's eyes were sightless.
+
+Imagine our surprise when, in the morning, finding that his eyes were
+bandaged, he pulled himself to a sitting posture in bed, turned his
+head round and cried out, "S'y, boys, who's fer a gime of blind man's
+buff?"
+
+I am glad to say that the sight of one eye was saved.--_F. T. Barley,
+24, Station Avenue, Prittlewell, Southend._
+
+
+Self-Supporting
+
+After being wounded at Ypres in July 1917, I was being sent home. When
+we were all aboard, an orderly came round with life-belts.
+
+When he got to the next stretcher to me, on which lay a man who had
+his arm and leg in splints, he asked the usual question ("Can you
+look after yourself if anything happens going across?"), and received
+the faint answer: "Lumme, mate, I've enough wood on me to make a
+raft."--_A. E. Fuller (36th Battery R.F.A.), 21 Pendragon Road, Downham
+Estate, Bromley._
+
+
+In the Butterfly Division
+
+On arriving at the hospital at Dames Camiers, we were put to bed. In
+the next bed to mine was a young Cockney who had lost three fingers of
+his right hand and his left arm below the elbow.
+
+The hospital orderly came to take particulars of our wounds, etc.
+Having finished with me, he turned to the Cockney. Rank, name, and
+regimental number were given, and then the orderly asked, "Which
+division are you from?"
+
+"Why, the 19th," came the answer; and then, as an afterthought, "that's
+the butterfly division, yer know, but I've 'ad me blinkin' wings
+clipped."--_H. Redford (late R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+An Unfair Leg-Pull
+
+I was working in a surgical ward at a base hospital, and among the
+patients was a Tommy with a fractured thigh-bone. He had his leg in a
+splint and, as was customary in these cases, there was an extension at
+the foot-piece with a heavy weight attached to prevent shortening of
+the leg.
+
+This weight was causing him a good deal of pain, and as I could
+do nothing to alleviate it I asked the M.O. to explain to him the
+necessity for the extension. He did so and ended up by saying, "You
+know, we want your leg to be straight, old man."
+
+The Tommy replied: "Wot's the good of making that leg strite w'en
+the uvver one's bowed?"--_Muriel A. Batey (V.A.D. Nurse), The North
+Cottage, Adderstone Crescent, Newcastle-upon-Tyne._
+
+
+He Saw It Through
+
+In the big general hospital at Colchester the next bed to mine was
+occupied by a typical Cockney who was very seriously wounded. It was
+little short of marvellous that he was alive at all.
+
+Early one morning he became so ill that the hospital chaplain was sent
+to administer the Last Sacrament and the little Londoner's parents were
+telegraphed for.
+
+About nine o'clock he rallied a little, and apparently realised that
+the authorities had given him up as hopeless, for with a great effort
+he half-sat up and, with his eyes ablaze, cried: "Wot? You fink I'm
+goin' ter die? Well, you're all wrong! I've bin in this war since it
+started, an' I intends to be in it at the finish. So I just _won't_
+die, to spite yer, see?"
+
+His unconquerable spirit pulled him through, and he is alive--and
+well--to-day!--_A. C. P. (late 58th (London) Division), Fulham, S.W.6._
+
+
+As Good as the Pictures
+
+In Salonika during 1916 I was taken to a field hospital, en route for
+the Base Hospital.
+
+All merry and bright when lying down, but helpless when perpendicular,
+was a comrade in the next bed to me. We were to be moved next day.
+
+I was interested in him, as he told me he belonged to "Berm-on-Sea,"
+which happens to be my birth-place. Well, close to our marquee were
+the dump and transport lines, which we could plainly see through the
+entrance to the marquee.
+
+Sister was taking our temperatures when we heard an explosion. Johnnie
+had "found" the dump. An officer ran through the marquee, ordering
+everyone to the dug-outs, and they promptly obeyed.
+
+I looked at Bermondsey Bill. He said: "We are beat. Let's stop and
+watch the fireworks."
+
+We were helpless on our feet. I tried to walk, but had to give it
+up. A new commotion then began, and Bill exclaimed: "Blimey, 'ere
+comes Flying Fox rahnd Tattenham Corner." It was a badly-wounded and
+panic-stricken mule. It dashed through our marquee, sent Sister's table
+flying, found the exit and collapsed outside.
+
+Sister returned (she was the right stuff) and said: "Hello, what's
+happened here? And you boys still in bed! Hadn't you better try and get
+to the dug-outs?"
+
+Bermondsey Bill said: "We'll stick it aht nah, Sister, an' fancy we're
+at the pictures."--_J. W. Fairbrass, 131 Sutton Dwellings, Upper
+Street, Islington, N.1._
+
+
+Room for the Comforter
+
+At Etaples in 1916 I was in a hospital marquee with nothing worse than
+a sprained ankle. A Y.M.C.A. officer was visiting us, giving a cheery
+word here and there, together with a very welcome packet of cigarettes.
+
+In the next cot to me was a young Cockney of the "Diehards," who had
+been well peppered with shrapnel. His head was almost entirely swathed
+in bandages, openings being left for his eyes, nose, and mouth.
+
+"Well, old chap," said the good Samaritan to him, "they seem to have
+got you pretty badly."
+
+"I'm all right, guv'nor--ser long as they leaves me an 'ole to put
+me fag in."--_A. E. Jeffreys (late 4th Q.O. Hussars), 24 Byne Road,
+Sydenham, S.E. 26._
+
+
+"War Worn and Tonsillitis"
+
+My son, Gunner E. Smith (an "Old Contemptible"), came home on leave in
+September 1918, and after a day or two had something wrong with his
+throat. I advised him to see the M.O.
+
+He went and came back saying, "Just look at this." The certificate said
+"War worn and tonsillitis."
+
+He went to the hospital, and was kept in for three weeks. The first
+time I went to see him, he said, "What do you think of it? A 1914 man,
+and knocked over by a kid's complaint."--_F. Smith, 23 Saunders Road,
+Plumstead, S.E.18._
+
+
+"... Fort I was in 'Ell"
+
+It was at the American General Hospital in Rouen. There was the usual
+noise created by chaps under anesthetic, swearing, shouting, singing,
+and moaning; but the fellow in the next bed to me had not stirred since
+they had brought him from the operating theatre many hours before.
+
+Suddenly he sat up, looked around him in amazement, and said, "Strike,
+I've bin a-lying 'ere fer abaht two 'ours afraid ter open me peepers.
+I fort I was in 'ell."--_P. Webb (late E. Surreys), 68 Rossiter Road,
+Balham, S.W.12._
+
+
+Pity the Poor Fly!
+
+Amongst my massage patients at one of the general hospitals was a very
+cheery Cockney sergeant, who had been badly damaged by shrapnel. In
+addition to other injuries he had lost an eye.
+
+One morning he was issued with a new eye, and was very proud of it.
+After admiring himself in a small mirror for a considerable time he
+turned to me and said, "Sister, won't it be a blinkin' sell for the fly
+who gets into my glass eye?"--_(Mrs.) A. Powell, 61 Ritherdon Road,
+S.W.17._
+
+
+Temperature by the Inch
+
+I was a patient in a general hospital in 1918, when a Cockney gunner
+was put into the bed next to mine. He was suffering from a severe form
+of influenza, and after ten days' treatment showed little sign of
+improvement.
+
+One evening the Sister was going her rounds with the thermometers.
+She had taken our friend's temperature and registered it on the chart
+hanging over his head. As she passed to the next bed he raised himself
+and turned round to read the result. Then he looked over to a Canadian
+in a bed in the far corner of the ward, and this dialogue ensued:
+
+Gunner: Canada!
+
+Canadian: Hallo!
+
+Gunner: Up agin.
+
+Canadian: Go on! How much?
+
+Gunner: 'Arf inch.--_E. A. Taylor (late 4th London Field Ambulance),
+Drouvin, The Chase, Wallington, Surrey._
+
+
+"'Arf Price at the Pickshers!"
+
+On the way across Channel with a Blighty in 1917 I chummed up with a
+wounded Cockney member of the Sussex. His head was swathed in bandages.
+
+"Done one o' me eyes in altergevver," he confided lugubriously. "Any
+blinkin' 'ow," he added in cheerier tones, "if that don't entitle a
+bloke to 'arf price at the pickshers fer the rest of 'is blinkin'
+natural I don't know wot will do!"--_James Vance Marshall, 15, Manette
+Street, W.1._
+
+
+Twenty-four Stitches in Time
+
+During the 1918 reverses suffered by the Turks on various fronts large
+numbers of mules were captured and sent to the veterinary bases to be
+reconditioned, sorted, and shod, for issue to various units in need of
+them. It was no mean feat to handle and shoe the worst-tempered brutes
+in the world. They had been made perfect demons through privation.
+
+"Ninty," a shoeing-smith (late of Grange Road, Bermondsey), was laid
+out and savaged by a mule, and carried off to hospital. At night his
+bosom pal goes over to see how his "old china" is going on.
+
+"'Ow are ye, Ninty?"
+
+"Blimey, Ted, nineteen stitches in me figh an' five in me ribs.
+Ted--wot d'ye reckon they done it wiv? A sewin' machine?"--_A. C.
+Weekley (late Farrier Staff Sergeant, 20th Veterinary Hospital,
+Abbassair), 70 Denbigh Road, East Ham, E.6._
+
+
+His Second Thoughts
+
+A Bluejacket who was brought into the Naval Hospital at Rosyth had had
+one of his legs blown off while he was asleep in his hammock. The late
+Mr. Thomas Horrocks Oppenshaw, the senior surgeon-in-charge, asked him
+what his first thought was when the explosion woke him up.
+
+"My first thought was 'Torpedoed, by gum!'"
+
+"And what did you think next?"
+
+"I think what I thought next was 'Ruddy good shot!'"--_H.R.A., M.D.,
+llford Manor, near Lewes, Sussex._
+
+
+Hats Off to Private Tanner
+
+The following story, which emphasises the Cockney war spirit in
+the most adverse circumstances, and how it even impressed our late
+enemy, was related to me by a German acquaintance whose integrity is
+unimpeachable.
+
+It was at a German prisoner-of-war clearing station in Douai during the
+summer of 1917, where wounded British prisoners were being cleared for
+prison-camp hospital.
+
+A number of wounded of a London regiment has been brought in, and
+a German orderly was detailed to take their names and particulars
+of wounds, etc. Later, looking over the orderly's list, the German
+sergeant-major in charge came across a name written by the orderly
+which was quite unintelligible to the sergeant-major.
+
+He therefore requested an intelligence officer, who spoke perfect
+English, to ask this particular man his name. The intelligence officer
+sought out the man, a Cockney, who had been severely wounded, and the
+following conversation took place.
+
+I.O.: You are Number ----?
+
+Cockney: Yussir.
+
+I.O.: What is your name?
+
+Cockney: Fourpence'a'penny.
+
+I.O.: I understand this is a term of English money, not a name.
+
+Cockney: Well, sir, I used to be called Tanner, but my right leg was
+took orf yesterday.
+
+The final words of the intelligence officer, as related to me, were:
+"I could have fallen on the 'begrimed ruffian hero's' neck and kissed
+him."--_J. W. Rourke, M.C. (ex-Lieut. Essex Regt.), 20 Mill Green Road,
+Welwyn Garden City._
+
+
+The Markis o' Granby
+
+Wounded at Sheria, Palestine, in November 1917. I was sent to the
+nearest railhead in a motor-ambulance. A fellow-passenger--also from a
+London battalion--was wounded very badly in both thighs. The orderly
+who tucked him up on his stretcher before the start asked him if he
+would like a drink.
+
+"No, thanks, chum--not nah," he replied; "but you might arsk the driver
+to pull up at the ole Markis o' Granby, and we'll all 'ave one!"
+
+I heard later that he died in hospital.--_C. Dickens (late 2/20th
+London Regiment), 18 Wheathill Road, Anerley, S.E.20._
+
+
+A One-Legged Turn
+
+Wounded about half an hour after the final attack on Gaza, I awoke to
+consciousness in the M.O.'s dug-out.
+
+"Poor old concert party," he said; "you're the fifth 'Ragamuffin' to
+come down."
+
+Eventually I found myself sharing a mule-cart with another wounded man,
+but he lay so motionless and quiet that I feared I was about to journey
+from the line in a hearse.
+
+The jolting of the cart apparently jerked a little life into him,
+for he asked me, "Got a fag, mate?" With a struggle I lighted my one
+remaining cigarette.
+
+After a while I asked him, "Where did you catch it, old fellow?"
+"Lumme," he replied, "if it ain't old George's voice." Then I
+recognised Sam, the comedian of our troupe.
+
+"Got it pretty rotten in the leg," he added.
+
+"Will it put paid to your comedy act, Sammy?" I asked.
+
+"Dunno," he replied with a sigh in his voice--"I'm tryin' to fink 'art
+a one-legged step dance."--_G. W. Turner (late 11th London Regt.), 10
+Sunny View, Kingsbury, N.W.9._
+
+
+
+
+4. HIGH SEAS
+
+
+The Skipper's Cigar
+
+Bradley (a Deptford flower-seller before joining up) was the "comic" of
+the stokers' mess deck.
+
+He was always late in returning from shore leave. One Monday morning
+he returned half an hour "adrift," and was promptly taken before the
+skipper.
+
+The skipper, a jovial old sort, asked him his reason for being adrift
+again, and Bradley replied:
+
+"Well, sir, Townsend and me were waiting for the liberty boat, and I
+was telling him that if ever I sees the skipper round Deptford I'll let
+him 'ave a 'bob' bunch of flowers for a 'tanner,' and we looked round
+and the blinkin' boat was gorne."
+
+The skipper smiled and dismissed him. On Christmas Day Bradley received
+a packet containing a cigar in it, with the following written on the
+box:
+
+"For the best excuse of the year.--F. H. C., Capt."
+
+I saw Bradley three years ago and he told me he still had that cigar in
+a glass case with his medals.--_F. H. (late Stoker, R.N.), 18 Little
+Ilford Lane, Manor Park, E.12._
+
+
+Breaking the Spell
+
+We were in a twelve-inch gun turret in a ship during the Dogger Bank
+action. The ship had been hit several times and big explosions had
+scorched the paint and done other damage. There came a lull in the
+firing, and with all of us more or less badly shaken there was a queer
+silence. Our captain decided to break it. Looking round at the walls
+of the turret he remarked in a Cockney, stuttering voice: "Well, lads,
+this blinking turret couldn't 'arf do with a coat of paint."--_J. Bone,
+84 Victoria Road, Surbiton._
+
+
+A V.C.'s Story of Friendship
+
+A transport packed with troops and horses for the Dardanelles was
+suddenly hailed by a German cruiser and the captain was given a few
+minutes in which to abandon ship.
+
+One young soldier was found with his arms round his horse's neck,
+sobbing bitterly, and when ordered to the boats he stubbornly refused
+to move. "Where my white-faced Willie goes _I_ goes," he said proudly.
+
+His loyalty to his dumb friend was rewarded, for the German cruiser
+fired twice at the transport, missed each time, and before a third
+effort British destroyers were on the scene to chase her away. It
+was then the young soldier had the laugh over his friends, for they
+in many cases arrived back on the ship half frozen and soaked to the
+skin!--_A Colonel, who wishes to remain anonymous: he holds the V.C.,
+D.S.O., and M.C._
+
+
+The Stoker Sums it Up
+
+I was on a large transport (normally a freighter), which had just
+arrived at a port on the East African coast, very rusty, and with a
+very un-naval-looking crew. We were taken in charge by a very small but
+immaculate gun-boat.
+
+Orders were shouted to us by megaphone, and our men were leaning over
+the side watching the gun-boat rather enviously, when a Poplar stoker
+came up from below for a "breather," and summed up his mates' feelings
+in eight words.
+
+[Illustration: "Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?"]
+
+Cupping his hands about his mouth, he shouted in a voice of thunder:
+"_Do yer stop aht all night in 'er?_"--_R. N. Spence (late Lieutenant,
+R.N.V.R.), 214 Croydon Road, Beckenham._
+
+
+Channel Swimming his Next Job
+
+During the war I had to fly a machine over to France. I had as
+passenger a Cockney Tommy who had recently transferred from the
+infantry to the R.F.C., and was joining his unit overseas.
+
+Half-way over the Channel my engine failed and I glided down towards
+the nearest boat I could see. The landing was not very successful; the
+under-carriage struck the crest of a wave and the aeroplane hit the
+water almost vertically.
+
+We were both thrown out, my passenger being somewhat badly knocked
+about in the process. We clung to the almost submerged wreckage and
+gazed hopefully towards the vessel I had sighted. She continued on her
+course, however.
+
+[Illustration: "I know me way across nah!"]
+
+The machine soon sank and we were left bobbing about in our life-belts.
+Things began to look far from bright, especially as my Cockney observer
+was in a pretty bad way by now. Suddenly the sun broke through the
+clouds, and the white cliffs of Grisnez, about eight miles away, stood
+out clearly.
+
+"What's them hills, sir?" asked Tommy.
+
+"Cape Grisnez, where Burgess landed after his Channel swim," I replied.
+
+"Blimey," he said, "if we ever gets out of this perishing mess, and I
+can't get me old job back after the war, I'll be a blooming Channel
+swimmer. I know the ruddy way across nah."--_"Pilot R.F.C.," London,
+W.1._
+
+
+It _Was_ a Collapsible Boat
+
+I was one of the survivors of the transport ship _Leasowe Castle_.
+Just before she took her final plunge, I was standing on deck when an
+empty boat was seen drifting near by. Our section officer called for
+swimmers, and five or six men went overboard in a jiffy and brought the
+boat alongside.
+
+There was a bit of a scuffle to get over the rail and into the boat,
+and one man jumped straight into her from a height of about thirty
+feet. To our dismay he went clean through--it was a collapsible boat!
+
+No sooner had this happened than a typical Cockney voice said: "Blimey,
+he's got the anchor in his pocket, I'll bet yer!"--_G. P. Gregory (late
+272 M.G. Company), 107 Tunkar Street, Greenwich._
+
+
+Luck in Odd Numbers
+
+We were on board H.M.S. _Sharpshooter_, doing patrol off the Belgian
+coast. The signalman on watch, who happened to be a Cockney, suddenly
+yelled out: "Aeroplane on the starboard bow, sir."
+
+The "old man," being fairly tired after a night of rain, said: "All
+right, it's only a friendly going back home."
+
+About two minutes later the plane dropped three bombs, the last of
+which was much too close to be comfortable.
+
+After our friend the signalman had wiped the splash off his face he
+turned round to the First Lieutenant and casually remarked: "Strike!
+It's a thundering good job he wasn't hostile or he might have hit
+us."--_R. Walmsley, D.S.M., 47 Watcombe Road, South Norwood, S.E.25._
+
+
+"Your Barf, Sir!"
+
+We were a mixed crowd on board the old _Archangel_ returning "off
+leave" from Southampton to Havre on the night of January 6, 1917. The
+sea was calm, and a moon made conditions ideal for Jerry's "skimmers."
+
+When we were well under way I chummed up with a typical son of the Mile
+End Road, one of the Middlesex men, and we talked for some time whilst
+watching the long, white zig-zag wake.
+
+Then he suggested looking for a "kip." After nosing around several dark
+corners, a strip of carpet along the alley between the first-class
+cabins appealed to us, and quietly unslinging kit and putting our packs
+for a pillow, we made ourselves as comfortable as possible. During the
+process my pal jerked his thumb towards the closed doors and whispered
+"Orficers."
+
+How long we had been asleep I don't know, but we were rudely awakened
+by a dull booming thud and a sound of splintering wood, and at the same
+time we were jolted heavily against the cabins. We hurriedly scrambled
+to our feet, looked at each other (no need to ask what had happened!),
+then grabbed our kit and made for the deck.
+
+As my companion passed the last cabin he banged on the door with his
+fist and called out: "Oi, yer barf'll be ready in a minute, sir!"--_A.
+E. Ulyett, 41 Smith Terrace, King's Road, Chelsea, S.W.3._
+
+
+"Mind My Coat"
+
+Middle watch, H.M.S. _Bulldog_ on patrol off the Dardanelles: a dirty
+and a black night. A shout of "Man overboard!" from the fore-gun
+crew.... We located an A.B. in the water, and with a long boat-hook
+caught his coat and pulled him towards the boat. As he drew nearer he
+cried: "Don't pull so bloomin' hard; you'll tear my blinkin' coat!"
+
+Then we knew it was our "Ginger," from Poplar. Now "Ginger" has the
+life-saving medal. A few weeks after his ducking the ship struck a
+mine and the after-part went west: "Ginger" was discovered in the
+water, having gone in after a wounded sub-lieutenant who had been blown
+overboard.--_Henry J. Wood, D.S.M., 19 Gracechurch Street, E.C.3._
+
+
+"Wot's the Game--Musical Chairs?"
+
+It was a bitterly cold day in December, somewhere in the North Sea.
+A section of mine-sweepers were engaged clearing an area well sown
+by Jerry's submarines. Suddenly the expected happened, and in a few
+minutes one of the sweepers was settling down fast by the stern.
+
+Those who did not "go west" in the explosion were with difficulty
+picked up; among them was a Cockney stoker rating. He arrived on board,
+wet, cold, and pretty well "pumped," and the bo'sun's peg of rum had
+almost disappeared between his chattering teeth when there was another
+explosion, and once again he was in a sinking ship.
+
+His reply to the order "abandon ship," which he had heard for
+the second time within half an hour, was: "Wot blinkin' game's
+this--musical chairs?"--_H. Waterworth, 32 Grasmere Road, Muswell Hill,
+N.10 (late Engineer-Lieutenant, R.N.R. (retired))._
+
+
+A Voice in the Dark
+
+Dawn of a day in March 1917 found Submarine F3 on patrol near the
+Terschelling lightship. As we broke surface two German destroyers were
+seen only a few hundred yards away. We immediately dived again, and
+shortly afterwards the depth charges began to explode. Lower and lower
+we went until we touched the bottom.
+
+Bangs to the right of us, bangs to the left of us, bangs above us--then
+one glorious big bang and out went the lights.
+
+Deadly silence, and then out of the darkness came the voice
+of our Battersea bunting-tosser--"Anyone got six pennorth o'
+coppers?"--_Frederick J. H. Alsford, 78 North Street, S.W.4._
+
+
+Why the Stoker Washed
+
+H.M.Q. ship 18 was sinking sixty miles off the French coast as the
+result of gun-fire, after destroying a German submarine.
+
+After getting away we had a hurried call-over and found that a Cockney
+fireman was missing. We hailed the ship which seemed about to take the
+plunge any minute, and at last the stoker appeared, spotlessly clean
+and dressed in "ducks."
+
+He had to jump and swim for it. As we hauled him to our boat we asked
+him why he had waited to clean himself.
+
+"Well," he explained, "if I am going to hell there's no need to let the
+blighter know I'm a stoker."--_Wm. C. Barnaby (late Chief Coxswain,
+R.N.), 7 Seville Street, Knightsbridge, S.W.1._
+
+
+Accounts Rendered
+
+The First-Lieutenant of a warship I was in, though a first-class
+sailor, had no great liking for clerical work, consequently the ship's
+store-books were perhaps not quite as they should have been.
+
+[Illustration: "Well, _that_ clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."]
+
+He therefore got an Able Seaman (who had been a London clerk in civil
+life) to give him a hand in his "off watches" in putting the books in
+order.
+
+Shortly afterwards the ship stopped a torpedo and sank in eight
+minutes. Before the First-Lieutenant had very much time to look round
+he found himself in the "ditch."
+
+As he was clambering out of the water on to the bottom of an upturned
+boat, he saw his "Chief Accountant" climbing up the other side, and
+the first thing he did was to reach out and shake hands with the A.B.
+across the keel of the boat, at the same time remarking, "Well, _that_
+clears up those blessed accounts anyhow."--_John Bowman (Able Seaman,
+R.N.V.R.), 19 Handel Mansions, W.C.1._
+
+
+An Ocean Greyhound
+
+On one occasion when the _Diligence_ was "somewhere in the North Sea,"
+shore leave was granted.
+
+One of the sailors, a Cockney, returned to the ship with his jumper
+"rather swollen." The officer of the watch noticed something furry
+sticking out of the bottom of his jumper, and at once asked where he
+had got it from, fearing, probably, that he had been poaching.
+
+[Illustration: "... To Nurse it Back to 'Ealth and Strength."]
+
+The Cockney thought furiously for a moment and then said: "I chased it
+round the Church Army hut, sir, until it got giddy and fell over, and
+so I picked it up and brought it aboard to nurse it back to 'ealth and
+strength."--_J. S. Cowland, 65 Tylney Road, Forest Gate, E.7._
+
+
+Margate In Mespot.
+
+October 29, 1914--England declares war on Turkey and transports laden
+with troops sail from Bombay.
+
+One evening, within a week, these transports anchor off the flat
+Mesopotamian coast at the top of the Persian Gulf. In one ship, a
+county regiment (95 per cent. countrymen, the remainder Cockney) is
+ordered to be the first to land. H.M.S. _Ocean_ sends her cutters and
+lifeboats, and into these tumble the platoons at dusk, to be rowed
+across a shallow "bar."
+
+[Illustration: "Wot price this fer Margate?"]
+
+Under cover of an inky darkness they arrive close to the beach by
+midnight. It is very cold, and all feel it the more because the kit
+worn is shorts and light khaki shirts.
+
+In the stone-cold silence a whisper passes from boat to boat--"_Remove
+puttees; tie boots round the neck; at signal, boats to row in until
+grounded; platoons to disembark and wade ashore_."
+
+So a shadowy line of strange-looking waders is dimly to be seen
+advancing through the shallow water and up the beach--in extended
+order, grim and frozen stiff. As dawn breaks they reach the sandy
+beach, and a few shots ring out from the distant Fort of Fas--but
+no one cares. Each and all are looking amazedly at the grotesque
+appearance of the line--silent, miserable figures, boots wagging round
+their necks, shorts rolled as high as possible, while their frozen
+fingers obediently cling to rifles and ammunition.
+
+It is too much for one soul, and a Cockney voice calls out: "'Ere, wot
+price this fer Margate?"
+
+The spell is broken. The Mesopotamian campaign begins with a great
+laugh!--_John Fiton, M.C., A.F.C., 9 High Grove, Welwyn Garden City,
+Herts._
+
+
+Urgent and Personal!
+
+The ss. _Oxfordshire_, then a hospital ship, was on her way down from
+Dar-es-salaam to Cape Town when she received an S.O.S. from H.M.T.
+_Tyndareus_, which had been mined off Cape Agulhas, very near the spot
+where the famous _Birkenhead_ sank.
+
+The _Tyndareus_ had on board the 26th (Pioneer) Battalion, Middlesex
+Regiment, under the command of Colonel John Ward, then on their way to
+Hong Kong.
+
+As the hospital boat drew near it was seen that the _Tyndareus_ was
+very low in the water, and across the water we could hear the troops
+singing "Tipperary" as they stood lined up on the decks.
+
+The lifeboats from both ships were quickly at work, every patient
+capable of lending a hand doing all he could to help. Soon we had
+hundreds of the Middlesex aboard, some pulled roughly up the side,
+others climbing rope-ladders hastily thrown down. They were in various
+stages of undress, some arriving clad only in pants.
+
+On the deck came one who, pulled up by eager hands, landed on all fours
+with a bump. As he got up, hands and toes bleeding from contact with
+the side of the vessel, I was delighted to recognise an old London
+acquaintance. The following dialogue took place:
+
+MYSELF: Hallo, Bill! Fancy meeting you like this! Hurt much?
+
+BILL: Not much. Seen Nobby Clark? Has he got away all right?
+
+MYSELF (_not knowing Nobby Clark_): I don't know. I expect so; there
+are hundreds of your pals aboard.
+
+BILL: So long. See you later. Must find Nobby; he collared the "kitty"
+when that blinking boat got hit!--_J. P. Mansell (late) 25th Royal
+Fusiliers._
+
+
+Victoria! (Very Cross)
+
+While I was an A.B. aboard H.M.S. _Aboukir_ somewhere in the North Sea
+we received a signal that seven German destroyers were heading for us
+at full speed. We were ordered at the double to action stations.
+
+My pal, a Cockney, weighing about 18 stone, found it hard to keep up
+with the others, and the commander angrily asked him, "Where is your
+station?"
+
+[Illustration: "Where's your station?"
+
+"Victoria--if I could only get there."]
+
+To which the Cockney replied, "Victoria--if I could only get
+there."--_J. Hearn, 24 Christchurch Street, S.W.3._
+
+
+He Saw the Force of It
+
+In February 1915 we beat out our weary patrol near the Scillies. Our
+ship met such heavy weather that only the bravest souls could keep a
+cheery countenance. Running into a growing storm, and unable to turn
+from the racing head seas, we beat out our unwilling way into the
+Atlantic.
+
+Three days later we limped back to base with injured men, hatches stove
+in, winch pipes and boats torn away. Our forward gun was smashed and
+leaned over at a drunken angle.
+
+Early in the morning the crew were taking a well-earned rest, and the
+decks were deserted but for the usual stoker, taking a breath of air
+after his stand-by watch. A dockyard official, seeing our damage, came
+on board, and, after viewing the wrecked gun at close quarters, turned
+to the stoker with the remark: "Do you mean to say that the sea smashed
+a heavy gun like that, my man?"
+
+The stoker, spitting with uncanny accuracy at a piece of
+floating wood overside, looked at the official: "Nah," he said,
+"it wasn't the blinking sea; the ryne done it!"--_A. Marsden
+(Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander, R.N.), Norbrook Cottage, Leith Park
+Road, Gravesend._
+
+
+New Skin--Brand New!
+
+Two mines--explosion--many killed--hundreds drowned. We were sinking
+fast. I scrambled quickly out of my hammock and up the hatchway. On
+deck, leaning against the bulkhead, was a shipmate, burned from head
+to foot. More amazing than fiction was his philosophy and coolness as
+he hailed me with, "'Cher, Darby! Got a fag? I ain't had a 'bine since
+Pa died." I was practically "in the nude," and could not oblige him.
+Three years later I was taking part at a sports meeting at Dunkirk when
+I was approached by--to me--a total stranger. "What 'cher, Darby--ain't
+dead yet then. What! Don't you remember H.M.S. _Russell_? Of course
+I've altered a bit now--new skin--just like a two-year-old--brand new."
+Brand new externally, but the philosophy was unaltered.--_"Darby," 405
+Valence Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex._
+
+
+A Zeebrugge Memory
+
+During the raid on Zeebrugge, one of our number had his arms blown
+away. When things quietened a little my chum and I laid him on a mess
+table and proceeded to tend his wounds. My chum tried to light the
+mess-deck "bogey" (fire), the chimney of which had been removed for the
+action. After the match had been applied, we soon found ourselves in a
+fog. Then the wounded man remarked: "I say, chum! If I'm going to die,
+let's die a white man, not a black 'un." The poor fellow died before
+reaching harbour.--_W. A. Brooks, 14 Ramsden Road, N.11._
+
+
+Another Perch in the Roost
+
+On the morning of September 22, 1914, when the cruisers _Aboukir_,
+_Hogue_, and _Cressy_ were torpedoed, we were dotted about in the
+water, helping each other where possible and all trying to get some
+support. When one piece got overloaded it meant the best swimmers
+trying their luck elsewhere.
+
+Such was my position, when I saw a piece of wreckage resembling a
+chicken coop, large enough to support four men. I reached it just ahead
+of another man who had been badly scalded.
+
+We were both exhausted and unable to help another man coming towards
+us. He was nearly done, and my companion, seeing his condition, shouted
+between breaths: "Come along, ole cock. Shake yer bloomin' feavers.
+There's a perch 'ere for anover rooster."
+
+Both were stokers on watch when torpedoed, and in a bad state from
+scalds. Exposure did the rest. I was alone, when picked up.--_W.
+Stevens (late R.M.L.I.), 23 Lower Range Road, Denton, near Gravesend._
+
+
+Uncomfortable Cargo
+
+(_A 12-in. shell weighs about 8 cwt. High explosives were painted
+yellow and "common" painted black._)
+
+In October 1914 H.M.S. _Venerable_ was bombarding the Belgian coast
+and Thames tugs were pressed into service to carry ammunition to ships
+taking part in the bombardment.
+
+The sea was pretty rough when a tug came alongside the _Venerable_
+loaded with 12-in. shells, both high explosive and common. Deck hands
+jumped down into the tug to sling the shells on the hoist. The tug
+skipper, seeing them jumping on the high explosives, shouted: "Hi!
+dahn there! Stop jumping on them yaller 'uns"; and, turning to the
+Commander, who was leaning over the ship's rail directing operations,
+he called out: "Get them yaller 'uns aht fust, guvnor, or them blokes
+dahn there 'll blow us sky high."--_A. Gill, 21 Down Road, Teddington,
+Middlesex._
+
+
+Good Old "Vernon"
+
+Several areas in the North Sea were protected by mines, which came from
+the torpedo depot ship, H.M.S. _Vernon_. The mines floated several feet
+below the surface, being kept in position by means of wires attached to
+sinkers.
+
+In my submarine we had encountered very bad weather and were uncertain
+of our exact position. The weather got so bad that we were forced to
+cruise forty feet below the surface.
+
+Everything was very still in the control room. The only movements were
+an occasional turn of the hydroplanes, or a twist at the wheel, at
+which sat "Shorty" Harris, a real hard case from Shadwell.
+
+Suddenly we were startled by a scraping sound along the port side.
+Before we could put our thoughts into words there came an ominous bump
+on the starboard side. _Bump!_ ... _bump!_ ... seven distinct thuds
+against the hull. No one moved, and every nerve was taut. Then "Shorty"
+broke the tension with, "Good old _Vernon_, another blinkin' dud."--_T.
+White, 31 Empress Avenue, Ilford._
+
+
+Any Time's Kissing Time!
+
+A torpedo-boat destroyer engaged on transport duty in the Channel in
+1916 had been cut in two by collision whilst steaming with lights
+out. A handful of men on the after-part, which alone remained afloat,
+were rescued after several hours by another destroyer, just as the
+after-part sank.
+
+[Illustration: "Ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss me?"]
+
+A howling gale was raging and some of the survivors had to swim for it.
+
+As the first swimmer reached the heaving side of the rescuing ship he
+was caught by willing hands and hauled on board.
+
+When he got his breath he stood up and, shaking himself to clear the
+water somewhat from his dripping clothes, looked around with a smile
+at the "hands" near by and said: "Well, ain't nobody a-goin' ter kiss
+me?"--_J. W., Bromley, Kent._
+
+
+The Fag End
+
+The captain of the troopship _Transylvania_ had just called the famous
+"Every man for himself" order after the boat had received two torpedoes
+from a submarine.
+
+The nurses had been got off safely in a boat, but our own prospects of
+safety seemed very remote. Along came a Cockney with his cigarettes and
+the remark, "Who'll 'ave a fag afore they get wet?"--_A. W. Harvey, 97
+Elderfield Road, Clapton, E.5 (late 10th London Regiment)._
+
+
+"Spotty" the Jonah
+
+On board the s.s. _Lorrento_ in 1917 with me was one "Spotty" Smith,
+A.B., of London. He had been torpedoed five times, and was reputed
+to be the sole survivor on the last two occasions. Such a Jonah-like
+reputation brought him more interest than affection from sailormen.
+
+Approaching Bizerta--a danger spot in the South Mediterranean--one dark
+night, all lights out, "Spotty" so far forgot himself as to strike
+matches on deck. In lurid and forcible language the mate requested him
+"not to beat his infernal record on this ship."
+
+"Spotty," intent on turning away wrath, replied, "S'elp me, sir, I've
+'ad enough of me heroic past. This next time, sir, I made up me mind
+to go down with the rest of the crew!"--_J. E. Drury, 77 Eridge Road,
+Thornton Heath._
+
+
+He Just Caught the Bus!
+
+After an arduous spell of patrol duty, our submarine had hove to to
+allow the crew a much-needed breather and smoke. For this purpose only
+the conning-tower hatch was opened so as to be ready to submerge, if
+necessity arose, with the minimum of delay.
+
+Eager to take full advantage of this refreshing interlude, the crew
+had emerged, one by one, through the conning-tower and had disposed
+themselves in sprawling attitudes around the upper deck space, resting,
+reading, smoking.
+
+Sure enough, soon the alarm was given, "Smoke seen on the horizon."
+
+The order "Diving stations" was given and, hastily scuttling down the
+conning-tower, the crew rapidly had the boat submerging, to leave only
+the periscope visible.
+
+The commander kept the boat slowly cruising with his periscope trained
+on the approaching smoke, ready for anything. Judge of his amazement
+when his view was obscured by the face of "Nobby" Clark (our Cockney
+A.B.) at the other end of the periscope. Realising at once that "Nobby"
+had been locked out (actually he had fallen asleep and had been rudely
+awakened by his cold plunge), we, of course, "broke surface" to collect
+frightened, half-drowned "Nobby," whose only ejaculation was: "Crikey!
+I ain't half glad I caught the ole bus."--_J. Brodie, 177 Manor Road,
+Mitcham, Surrey._
+
+
+Dinner before Mines!
+
+"Somewhere in the North Sea" in 1917, when I was a stoker on H.M.S.
+_Champion_, there were plenty of floating mines about.
+
+One day, several of us were waiting outside the galley (cook house) for
+our dinners, and the cook, a man from Walworth, was shouting out the
+number of messes marked on the meat dishes which were ready for the men
+to take away.
+
+He had one dish in his hand with no number marked on it, when a stoker
+rushed up and shouted: "We nearly struck a mine--missed it by inches,
+Cookey." But Cookey only shouted back: "Never mind about blinkin' mines
+nah; is this _your_ perishin' dish with no tally on it?"--_W. Downs
+(late stoker, R.N.), 20 Tracey Street, Kennington Road, S.E._
+
+
+A Philosopher at Sea
+
+We were a helpless, sorry crowd, many of us with legs in splints, in
+the hold of a "hospital" ship crossing from Boulogne. The boat stopped
+dead.
+
+"What are we stopping for, mate?" one man asked the orderly.
+
+"The destroyers wot's escortin' of us is chasin' a German submarine.
+I'm just a-goin' on deck agin to see wot's doin'." As he got to the
+ladder he turned to say: "Nah, you blokes: if we gits 'it by a torpedo
+don't go gettin' the ruddy wind up an' start rushin' abaht tryin' ter
+git on deck. It won't do yer wounds no bloomin' good!"--_E. Bundy (late
+L/Corporal, 1/5th L.F.A., 47th Division), 4 Upton Gardens, Barkingside,
+Ilford, Essex._
+
+
+Extra Heavyweight
+
+Amongst the crew of our mine-sweeper during the war "Sparks," the
+wireless operator, was a hefty, fat chap, weighing about 18 stone. One
+day while clearing up a mine-field, laid overnight by a submarine, we
+had the misfortune to have four or five of the mines explode in the
+"sweep."
+
+The explosion shattered every piece of glass in the ship, put the
+engines out of action, and nearly blew the ship out of the water.
+
+"Bill," one of our stokers--a Cockney who, being off watch, was asleep
+in his bunk--sat up, yawned, and exclaimed in a sleepy voice: "'Ullo,
+poor ole 'Sparks' fallen out of 'is bunk again! 'E'll 'urt 'isself one
+of these days!"--_R.N.V.R., Old Windsor, Berks._
+
+
+Three Varieties
+
+The boat on which I was serving as a stoker had just received two new
+men as stokers.
+
+On coming down the stokehold one of them seemed intent on finding out
+what different perils could happen to him.
+
+After he had been inquiring for about an hour a little Cockney,
+rather bored, got up and said, "Now look here, mate. The job ain't
+so bad, looking at it in this light--you've three ways of snuffing
+it: one is _burnt_ to death, the other is _scalded_ to death; or,
+if you're damn lucky, _drowned_. That's more chances than they have
+upstairs."--_B. Scott (late Stoker, H.M.S. "Marlborough"), 29 Stanley
+Road, Southend-on-Sea, Essex._
+
+
+He was a Bigger Fish
+
+The battleship in which I was serving was picking up survivors from a
+torpedoed merchantman in the North Atlantic. They had been drifting
+about for hours clinging to upturned boats and bits of gear that had
+floated clear of the wreckage.
+
+Our boat had picked up three or four half-drowned men and was just
+about to return to the ship when we espied a fat sailor bobbing about
+with his arms around a plank. We pulled up close to him and the bow-man
+leaned out with a boat-hook and drew him alongside.
+
+[Illustration: "Wot d'yer fink I am--a blinkin' tiddler?"]
+
+He seemed to have just strength enough left to grasp the gunwale,
+when we were surprised to hear him shout, in an unmistakable Cockney
+voice: "All right, Cockey, un'itch that boat 'ook. Wot d'yer fink I
+am--a blinkin' tiddler?"--_Leslie E. Austin, 6 Northumberland Avenue,
+Squirrels Heath, Romford, Essex._
+
+
+The "Arethusa" Touch
+
+During the action off Heligoland in August 1914 the light cruiser
+_Arethusa_ came under a hot fire. A shell penetrated the chief stoker's
+mess, knocked a drawer full of flour all over the deck, but luckily
+failed to explode.
+
+A Cockney stoker standing in the mess had a narrow escape, but after
+surveying the wreckage and flour-covered deck all he said was: "Blowed
+if they ain't trying to make a blinkin' duff in our mess!"--_C. H. Cook
+(Lieut., R.N.V.R.), 91 Great Russell Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+His Chance to Dive
+
+During the early part of 1917, whilst I was serving with one of H.M.
+transports, we had occasion to call at Panama for coaling purposes
+before proceeding to England via New York.
+
+One of our many Cockney sailors was a fine swimmer and diver. He took
+every opportunity to have what he termed "a couple of dives."
+
+Owing to the water being rather shallow immediately along the quay, his
+diving exhibitions were limited to nothing higher than the forecastle,
+which was some 30 ft. His one desire, however, was to dive from the
+boat-deck, which was about 60 ft. Whilst steaming later in the front
+line of our convoy, which numbered about forty-two ships, we became the
+direct target of a deadly torpedo. Every soul dashed for the lifeboats.
+
+After things had somewhat subsided I found our Cockney
+friend--disregarding the fact that our ship was badly damaged and was
+now listing at an almost impossible angle--posing rather gracefully for
+a dive. He shouted, "Hi! hi! Wot abaht this 'un? I told yer I could do
+it easy!" He then dived gracefully and swam to a lifeboat.--_Bobbie
+George Bull (late Mercantile Marine), 40 Warren Road, Leyton, E.10._
+
+
+Wot Abaht Wot?
+
+In 1917 our job on an armed merchantman, H.M.A.S. _Marmora_, was to
+escort food ships through the danger zone. One trip we were going to
+Sierra Leone, but in the middle of the afternoon, when about two days
+out from Cardiff, we were torpedoed.
+
+The old ship came to a standstill and we all proceeded to action
+stations. Just as we were training our guns in the direction of the
+submarine another torpedo struck us amidships and smashed practically
+all the boats on the port side.
+
+"Abandon ship" was given, as we were slowly settling down by the bows.
+Our boat was soon crowded out, and there seemed not enough room for a
+cat. The last man down the life-line was "Tubby," our cook's mate, who
+came from Poplar.
+
+When he was about half way down the boat was cut adrift and "Tubby" was
+left hanging in mid-air. "Hi!" he shouted. "What abaht it?"
+
+Another Cockney (from Battersea) replied: "What abaht what?"
+
+"Abaht coming back for me."
+
+"What do you take us for," said the lad from Battersea; "do yer fink we
+all want the sack fer overcrowdin'?"
+
+"Tubby" was, of course, picked up after a slight immersion.--_C. Phelps
+(late R.M.L.I.), 36 Oxford Road, Putney, S.W.15._
+
+
+Water on the Watch
+
+I was one of the crew of a patrol boat at the Nore in the winter of
+1915. Most of the crew had gone to the dockyard to draw stores and
+provisions, and I was down in the forecastle when I heard a shout
+for help. I nipped up on deck and discovered that our Cockney stoker
+had fallen overboard. He was trying to swim for dear life, though
+handicapped by a pair of sea boots and canvas overalls over his
+ordinary sailor's rig. A strong tide was running and was carrying him
+away from the boat.
+
+I threw a coil of rope to him, and after a struggle I managed to haul
+him aboard. I took him down to the boiler room and stripped off his
+clothes.
+
+Around his neck was tied a bootlace, on the end of which was hanging
+a metal watch, which he told me he had bought the day before for five
+shillings. The watch was full of sea water, and there was an air bubble
+inside the glass. As he held it in his hand he looked at it with
+disgust. When I said to him what a wonderful escape his wife had had
+from being left a widow, he replied, "Yes, it was a near fing, ole'
+mate, but wot abaht me blinkin' bran' noo watch? It's gone and turned
+itself into a perishin' spirit level, and I've dipped five bob."--_W.
+Carter, 55 Minet Avenue, Harlesden, N.W.10._
+
+[Illustration: "A perishin' spirit level."]
+
+
+A Gallant Tar
+
+An awe-inspiring sight met the eyes of the 29th Division as they came
+into view of Gallipoli on the morning of April 25, 1915. Shells from
+our ships were bursting all over that rugged coast, and those from the
+enemy bespattered the water around us.
+
+While I gazed at the scene from the deck of the _Andania_, carried away
+by the grandeur of it all, my reverie was broken by a Cockney voice
+from the sailor in charge of the small boat that was to take us ashore.
+"'Op in, mate," said the sailor. "I've just lorst three boats. I reckon
+I'll soon have to take the blooming island meself."
+
+His fourth trip was successfully accomplished, but the fifth, alas! was
+fatal both to this gallant tar and to the occupants of his boat.--_G.
+Pull (late 1st R. Innis. Fus.), 20 Friars Place Lane, Acton, W.3._
+
+
+A Cap for Jerry
+
+Dawn, September 1, 1917, H.M. destroyer _Rosalind_ was engaged with
+enemy ships off Jutland. I was serving on one of the guns, and we were
+approaching the enemy at full speed. The ship was vibrating from end
+to end, and the gun fire, the bursting of shells, and the smell of the
+cordite had got our nerves at high tension.
+
+When we were very near the enemy one of the German ships blew up
+completely in a smothering cloud of smoke.
+
+At this time something went wrong with our ammunition supply, and we
+had used up all that we usually carried on the gun platform. One of the
+gun's crew, a Cockney, put his cap in the breech, and said "Quick! Send
+'em this to put the lid on that blinkin' chimney." We all had to laugh,
+and carried on.--_W. E. M. (late H.M.S. "Rosalind"), 19 Kimberley Road,
+Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Give 'im 'is Trumpet Back
+
+After the _Britannia_ was torpedoed in November 1918, and the order
+"Abandon Ship" had been given, the crew had to make their way as best
+they could to a destroyer which had pulled up alongside.
+
+Hawsers were run from the _Britannia_ to the destroyer, down which we
+swarmed. Some got across. Others were not so lucky. One of the unlucky
+ones who had a free bath was a Cockney stoker nicknamed "Shorty," who,
+after splashing and struggling about, managed to get near the destroyer.
+
+To help him a burly marine dangled a rope and wooden bucket over the
+side, this being the only means of rescue available. The marine, who
+was puffing at a large meerschaum pipe, called out: "Here y'are,
+Shorty, grab 'old o' this bucket an' mind yer don't drown yerself in
+it."
+
+"Shorty" makes sure of bucket, then wipes the water from his eyes,
+looks up to the marine, and says: "Garn, give the kid 'is trumpet
+back."--_G. Lowe (ex-R.M.L.I.), 18 Brocas Street, Eton, Bucks._
+
+
+Getting the Range
+
+It was on H.M. monitor _General Wolfe_, my first ship, and this was my
+first taste of actual warfare.
+
+We were lying anchored off the Belgian coast, shelling an inland
+objective with our 18-in. gun, the ammunition for which, by the way,
+was stowed on the upper deck.
+
+All ratings other than this gun's crew were standing by for "action
+stations." Just then the shore batteries opened fire on us. The first
+shot fell short, the next went over.
+
+A Cockney member of my gun's crew explained it thus: "That's wot they
+calls a straddle," he said. "They finds our range that way--one short,
+one over, and the next 'arf way between. Got a 'bine on yer before it's
+too late?"--_Regd. W. Ayres (late A.B., R.N.), 50 Lewisham High Road,
+New Cross, S.E. 14._
+
+
+Coco-nut Shies
+
+Early in 1915 I was attached to one of our monitors in the Far East. We
+had painted the ship to represent the country we were fighting in. The
+ship's side was painted green with palm trees on it, and up the funnel
+we painted a large coco-nut tree in full bloom.
+
+When we went into action, a shell penetrated our funnel, and a splinter
+caught my breech worker in the shoulder. After we had ceased fire we
+carried him below on a stretcher. Looking at the funnel, he said,
+"Blimey, Tom, 'appy 'Ampstead and three shies a penny. All you knock
+down you 'ave."
+
+Later I went to see him in Zanzibar Hospital, and told him he had been
+awarded the D.S.M. He seemed more interested to know if the German
+had got his coco-nut than in his own award.--_T. Spring (late Chief
+Gunner's Mate, R.N.), 26 Maidenstone Hill, Greenwich, S.E.10._
+
+
+"Any more for the 'Skylark'?"
+
+Passing through the Mediterranean in 1916, the P. & O. liner _Arabia_,
+returning from the East with a full complement of passengers, was
+torpedoed.
+
+I was in charge of a number of naval ratings returning to England, who,
+of course, helped to get the boats away.
+
+While some of my boys were getting out one of the port boats a woman
+passenger, who had on a Gieves waistcoat, rushed up, holding the air
+tube in front of her, and shouting hysterically, "Oh, blow it up
+somebody, will somebody please blow it up?" A hefty seaman with a
+couple of blasts had the waistcoat inflated, and as he screwed up the
+cap said, "Look 'ere, miss, if yer 'oller like that Fritzy will 'ear
+yer and he _will_ be angry. 'Ere you are, miss, boat all ready; 'op in."
+
+Then, turning round to the waiting passengers, he said, "Come on, any
+more for the 'Skylark'?"--_F. M. Simon (Commander, R.N., retd.), 99
+Lower Northdown Road, Margate._
+
+
+Still High and Dry
+
+Whilst patrolling on an exceptionally dark night, the order being "No
+lights showing," we had the misfortune to come into collision with a
+torpedo boat. Owing to the darkness and suddenness of the collision
+we could not discover the extent of the damage, so the officer of the
+watch made a "round," accompanied by the duty petty officer.
+
+Upon reaching a hatchway leading down to the stokers' mess deck, he
+called down: "Is there any water coming in down there?" In answer a
+Cockney stoker, who was one of a number in their hammocks, was heard to
+reply: "I don't fink so; it ain't reached my 'ammock yet."--_J. Norton
+(late Ldg. Stoker, R.N.), 24 Lochaline Street, Hammersmith, W.6._
+
+
+Trunkey Turk's Sarcasm
+
+We were serving in a destroyer (H.M.S. _Stour_) in 1915, steaming up
+and down the East Coast. As we passed the different coastguard stations
+the bunting-tosser had to signal each station for news.
+
+One station, in particular, always had more to tell than the others.
+One day this station signalled that a merchant ship had been torpedoed
+and that German submarines were near the coast.
+
+My Cockney chum--we called him Trunkey Turk because of his big
+nose--asked the bunting-tosser for his news as he was coming down from
+the bridge, and when he was told, said, "Why didn't you ask them if
+they saw a tin of salmon in their tot of rum to-day?"--_J. Tucknott, 2
+Wisbeach Road, West Croydon._
+
+
+Running Down the Market
+
+On board a destroyer in the North Sea in 1916. Look-out reports, "Sail
+ahead, sir."
+
+The captain, adjusting his glasses, was able to make out what at first
+appeared to be a harmless fisherman.
+
+As we drew nearer we could see by her bow wave that she had something
+more than sails to help her along: she had power.
+
+"Action Stations" was sounded, the telegraphs to engine-room clanged
+"Full speed ahead." Our skipper was right. It was a German submarine,
+and as our foremost gun barked out we saw the white sails submerge.
+
+Depth charges were dropped at every point where we altered course.
+Imagine our surprise to find the resulting flotsam and jetsam around us
+consisted of trestles, boards, paint-brushes, boxes, and a hat or two,
+which the crafty Germans had used to camouflage their upper structure.
+
+The scene was summed up neatly by "Spikey" Merlin, A.B., a real product
+of Mile End Road: "Lor' luv old Aggie Weston, we've run dahn the
+blinkin' Calerdonian Markit."--_A. G. Reed (late R.N.), 15 William
+Street, Gravesend, Kent._
+
+
+Five to One against the "Tinfish"
+
+H.M.S. Morea, on convoy duty, was coming up the Channel when the silver
+streak of a "tinfish" was seen approaching the port side. The _Morea_
+was zig-zagging at the time, so more helm was given her to dodge the
+oncoming torpedo.
+
+The guns' crews were at action stations and were grimly waiting for the
+explosion, when a Cockney seaman gunner sang out, "I'll lay five to one
+it doesn't hit us."
+
+This broke the tension, and, as luck would have it, the torpedo passed
+three yards astern.--_J. Bowman (R.N.), 19 Handel Mansions, Handel
+Street, W.C.1._
+
+
+A Queer Porpoise
+
+In September 1914 I was in H.M.S. _Vanguard_, patrolling in the North
+Sea. One day four of us were standing on the top of the foremast
+turret, when all of a sudden my pal Nobby shouted to the bridge above
+us, "Periscope on the port bow, sir." At once the captain and signalman
+levelled their telescopes on the object. Then the captain looked over
+the bridge and shouted, "That's a porpoise, my man."
+
+Nobby looked up at the bridge and said, "Blimey, that's the first time
+I've seen a porpoise wiv a glass eye."
+
+He had no sooner said it than the ship slewed to port and a torpedo
+passed close to our stern, the signalman having spotted the wake of a
+torpedo.--_M. Froggat, 136 Laleham Road, Catford, S.E._
+
+
+"Hoctopus" with One Arm
+
+At the time when the German submarine blockade was taking heavy toll
+of all general shipping I was serving aboard a destroyer doing escort
+work in the Channel. One night three ships had been torpedoed in quick
+succession, and we understood they were carrying wounded.
+
+We were kept pretty busy dodging from one place to another to pick up
+survivors, and during our "travels" a ship's boat was sighted close at
+hand. In the darkness we could just make out the figure of a soldier
+endeavouring to pull a full-sized oar.
+
+After hailing the boat someone on our destroyer shouted, "Why didn't
+you get some more oars out?" A voice replied: "Don't be so funny. D'yer
+fink I'm a hoctopus? Our engines 'ave all conked aht." Which remark
+raised a laugh from the entire boatload.
+
+On getting closer alongside the tragedy dawned on us. This Cockney
+was the only man (out of about thirty) who was sound enough to handle
+an oar, and he only had one arm and a half.--_H. G. Vollor (late
+Ldg.-seaman, R.N.), 73 Playford-Road, Finsbury Park, N.4._
+
+
+Interrupted Duel
+
+The C.O. of my ship had his own way of punishing men who were brought
+before him for fighting.
+
+He would send for the gunner's mate and tell him to have the two
+men up on the upper deck, in view of the ship's company, armed with
+single-sticks. The gunner's mate would get them facing each other, give
+them the first order of "Cutlass practice"--"Guard!" then "Loose play."
+At that order they would go for each other hammer and tongs till one
+gave in.
+
+Such a dispute had to be settled one day while we were patrolling the
+North Sea. The combatants were just getting warm to it when the alarm
+buzzers went--enemy in sight.
+
+The gunner's mate, who was refereeing the combat, said: "Pipe dahn, you
+two bounders. Hop it to your action stations, and don't forget to come
+back 'ere when we've seen them off."
+
+Fortunately they were both able to "come back."--_John M. Spring (late
+P.O., R.N.), Bank Chambers, Forest Hill, S.E.23._
+
+
+Enter Dr. Crippen
+
+Our ship, the s.s. _Wellington_, was torpedoed on August 14, 1917, and
+we were a despondent crew in the only two boats. The U-boat that had
+sunk our ship appeared and we were wondering what was going to happen
+to us.
+
+As the U-boat bore down upon us my mate, Nigger Smith (from Shoreditch)
+spotted its commander, who wore large spectacles, on its conning tower
+bridge. "Blimey," said Nigger, "'ere's old Crippen!"--_J. Cane (late
+Gunner, R.M.), 73 Rahere Street, E.C.1._
+
+
+The All-seeing Eye
+
+My pal Pincher and I volunteered out of the destroyer _Vulture_ for the
+Q-boats, and got detailed for the same mystery ship. After a lot of
+drills--"Abandon ship," "Panic crews away," etc.--we thought we were
+hot stuff.
+
+Knocking about the Channel one fine day the order came, "Panic crews to
+stations." Thinking it was drill, Pincher and I nipped into our boat,
+when the after fall carried away, letting Pincher, myself, and crew
+into the "drink."
+
+Pincher must have caught sight of the periscope of a U-boat, for on
+coming up (although he couldn't swim much) he said when I grabbed him:
+"Lumme, I'm in for fourteen penn'orth!" (14 days 10A, i.e. punishment
+involving extra work). "There's the skipper lookin' at me through 'is
+telescope, and they aven't piped 'ands to bathe yet."--_P. Willoughby
+(late R.N.), 186 Evelyn Street, S.E.8._
+
+
+The Submarine's Gamps
+
+While patrolling in the Sea of Marmora a British submarine came across
+several umbrellas floating in the sea, presumably from a sunken ship.
+Some of them were acquired by the crew.
+
+On the passage down the Dardanelles the submarine was damaged in the
+conning tower by gun-fire from the Turkish batteries, and water began
+to come in.
+
+At this critical stage I overheard one sailor remark to another, "I
+say, Bill, don't you think it is about time we put those blinkin'
+umbrellas up?"--_Naval officer retired, Hampstead, N.W.3._
+
+
+Polishing up his German
+
+About January 15, 1915, we were on patrol duty in the North Sea. Near
+daybreak we came across a number of German drifters, with carrier
+pigeons on board, that were suspected of being in touch with submarines.
+
+We were steaming in line abreast, and the order was signalled for each
+ship to take one drifter in tow. Our Jerry objected to being towed to
+England, and cut our tow-rope, causing us a deal of trouble.
+
+Our captain was in a rage and shouted down from the bridge to the
+officer of the watch, "Is there anyone on board who can speak German?"
+
+The officer of the watch called back, "Yes, sir; Knight speaks
+German"--meaning an officer.
+
+So the captain turned to the bos'n's mate and said, "Fetch him." The
+bos'n's mate sends up Able Seaman "Bogey" Knight, to whom the captain
+says, over his shoulder: "Tell those fellows that I'll sink 'em if they
+tamper with the tow again."
+
+With a look of surprise Bogey salutes and runs aft. Putting his hands
+to his mouth. Bogey shouts:
+
+"Hi! there, drifterofsky, do yer savvy?" and makes a cut with his hand
+across his arm. "If yer makes de cut agin, I makes de shoot--(firing an
+imaginary rifle)--and that's from our skipper!"
+
+[Illustration: "I makes de shoot."]
+
+Bogey's mates laughed to hear him sprachen the German; but Jerry didn't
+cut the tow again.--_E. C. Gibson, 3 Slatin Road, Stroud, Kent._
+
+
+
+
+5. HERE AND THERE
+
+
+Answered
+
+We were a working party of British prisoners marching through the
+German barracks on our way to the parcel office. Coming towards us was
+a German officer on horseback. When he arrived abreast of us he shouted
+in very good English: "It's a long way to Tipperary, boys, isn't it?"
+This was promptly answered by a Cockney in the crowd: "Yus! And it's
+a ruddy long way to Paris, ain't it?"--_C. A. Cooke, O.B.E. (late
+R.N.D.), 34 Brandram Road, Lee High Road, S.E._
+
+
+A Prisoner has the Last Laugh
+
+Scene: A small ward in Cologne Fortress, occupied by about twelve
+British prisoners of war.
+
+Time: The German M.O.'s inspection. Action: The new sentry on guard in
+the corridor had orders that all must stand on the M.O.'s entry. Seeing
+the M.O. coming, he called out to us. We jumped to it as best we could,
+except one, a Cockney, who had just arrived minus one leg and suffering
+from other injuries.
+
+Not knowing this, the sentry rushed over to him, yelling that he must
+stand. Seeing that no notice was being taken, he pointed his rifle
+directly at the Cockney. With an effort, since he was very weak and in
+great pain, the Cockney raised himself, caught hold of the rifle and,
+looking straight at it, said: "Dirty barrel--seven days!"
+
+The M.O., who had just arrived, heard the remark, and, understanding
+it, explained it to the sentry, who joined in our renewed
+laughter.--_A. V. White, 35 Mayville Road, Leytonstone, E.11._
+
+
+Not Yet Introduced
+
+We were prisoners of war, all taken before Christmas 1914, and had been
+drafted to Libau, on the Baltic coast.
+
+Towards the end of 1916 a party of us were working on the docks when a
+German naval officer approached and began talking to us.
+
+During the conversation he said he had met several English admirals and
+named some of them.
+
+After a little while a Cockney voice from the rear of our party said,
+"'Ave you ever met Jellicoe, mate?"
+
+The officer replied in the negative, whereupon the Cockney said, "Well,
+take yer bloomin' ships into the North Sea: he's looking for yer."--_F.
+A. F. (late K.O.Y.L.I.), 4 Shaftesbury Road, W.6._
+
+
+On the Art of Conversation
+
+In 1916 the British R.N.A.S. armoured cars, under Commander Oliver
+Locker-Lampson, went from Russia to Rumania to help to stem the enemy's
+advance.
+
+One day, at the frontier town of Reni, I saw a Cockney petty officer
+engaged in earnest conversation with a Russian soldier. Finally, the
+two shook hands solemnly, saluted, and parted.
+
+"Did he speak English?" I asked when the Russian had gone away. "Not
+'im," said the P.O.
+
+"Perhaps you speak Russian?" I asked, my curiosity aroused. "No
+bloomin' fear!" he said, for all the world as if I had insulted him.
+
+"Then how do you speak to each other?"
+
+"That's easy, sir," he said. "'E comes up to me an' says 'Ooski,
+kooski, wooski, fooski.' 'Same to you,' says I, 'an' many of 'em,
+ol' cock.' 'Bzz-z-z, mzz-z-z, tzz-z-z,' says 'e. 'Thanks,' I says.
+'Another time, ol' boy. I've just 'ad a couple.' 'Tooralski, looralski,
+pooralski,' 'e says. 'Ye don't say!' says I. 'An' very nice, too,' I
+says, 'funny face!'
+
+"'Armony," he explained. "No quarrellin', no argifyin', only peace an'
+'armony.... Of course, sir, every now an' again I says 'Go to 'ell, y'
+silly blighter!'"
+
+"What for?"
+
+He looked at me coldly. "'Ow do I know but what the blighter's usin'
+insultin' words to me?" he asked.--_R. S. Liddell, Rosebery Avenue,
+E.C.1._
+
+
+Down Hornsey Way
+
+Here is a story of the Cockney war spirit at home. We called him
+"London" as he was the only Londoner in the troop. Very pale and
+slight, he gave the impression of being consumptive, yet he was quite
+an athlete, as his sprinting at the brigade sports showed.
+
+We had been on a gunnery course up Hornsey way, and with skeleton kit
+were returning past a large field in which were three gas chambers
+used for gas drill. No one was allowed even to go in the field unless
+equipped with a gas-mask. Suddenly a voice called out, "Look, there's a
+man trying to get in yon chamber."
+
+We shouted as loud as we could, but beyond waving his arms the
+figure--which looked to be that of a farm labourer--continued to push
+at the door. Then I saw "London" leap the gate of the field and sprint
+towards the chamber. When he was about 50 yards off the man gave a
+sudden lurch at the door and passed within. We called to "London" to
+come back, but a couple of seconds later he too was lost from view.
+
+One minute--it seemed like an hour--two, three, five, ten, and out came
+"London." He dragged with him the bulky labourer. Five yards from the
+chamber he dropped. Disregarding orders, we ran to his assistance.
+Both his eyes were swollen, his lip was cut, and a large gash on the
+cheek-bone told not of gas, but of a fight.
+
+He soon came to--and pointing to his many cuts said, "Serves me right
+for interfering. Thought the fellah might have been gassed, but there's
+none in there; and hell--he _can_ hit."--_"Selo-Sam," late Yorks
+Dragoons._
+
+
+"... Wouldn't Come Off"
+
+He hailed from Walworth and was the unfortunate possessor of a
+permanent grin.
+
+The trouble began at the training camp at Seaford when the captain was
+inspecting the company.
+
+"Who are you grinning at?" said he. "Beg parding," replied Smiler, "but
+I can't help it, sir. I was born like it."
+
+On the "other side" it was the same. The captain would take Smiler's
+grin as a distinct attempt to "take a rise" out of him. The result was
+that all the worst jobs seemed to fall upon the luckless Londoner.
+
+He was one of the "lucky lads" selected one night for a working party.
+While he was so engaged Jerry sent over a packet which was stopped by
+Smiler, and it was quickly apparent to him and to us that this was more
+than a Blighty one.
+
+As I knelt by his side to comfort him he softly whispered, "Say, mate,
+has Jerry knocked the blinkin' smile off?"
+
+"No," I replied, "it's still there."
+
+Then, with a strange light in his eyes, he said, "Won't the captain be
+darned wild when he hears about it?"--_P. Walters (late Cpl., Royal
+Fusiliers), 20 Church Street, Woolwich, S.E.18._
+
+
+When In Greece...?
+
+On a Greek island overlooking the Dardanelles, where we were stationed
+in 1916, my pal Sid and I were one day walking along a road when we saw
+approaching us a poor-looking knock-kneed donkey. On its back, almost
+burying it, was a huge pile of brushwood, and on top of this sat a
+Greek, whilst in front walked an elderly woman, probably his wife, also
+with a load of twigs on her back.
+
+Sid's face was a study in astonishment and indignation. "Strewth!" he
+muttered to himself. To the Greek he said, "Hi, 'oo the dickens d'you
+fink you are--the Lord Mayor? Come down orf of there!"
+
+The Greek didn't understand, of course, but Sid had him down. He seemed
+to be trying to remonstrate with Sid, but Sid wasn't "'avin' no excuses
+of that sort," and proceeded to reverse the order of things. He wanted
+"Ma" to "'op up an' 'ave a ride," but the timid woman declined. Her
+burden, however, was transferred to the man's back, and after surveying
+him in an O.C. manner, Sid said: "Nah, pass on, an' don't let it 'appen
+again!"--_H. T. Coad (late R.M.L.I.), 30 Moat Place, Stockwell, S.W.9._
+
+
+The Chef Drops a Brick
+
+At a prisoners of war camp, in Havre, it was my duty to make a daily
+inspection of the compound within the barbed wire, and also the
+officers' quarters.
+
+In charge of the officers' mess was a little Cockney corporal, but
+practically all the cooking and other work was done by German prisoners.
+
+We had just put on trial a new cook, a German, who had told us that he
+had been a chef before the war at one of the big London hotels.
+
+I was making my usual inspection with my S. M., and when we came to
+the officers' mess he bawled out "'Shun! Officer's inspection, any
+complaints?"
+
+The new German cook apparently did not think that this applied to him,
+and, wanting to create a good impression, he strolled across to me in
+the best _maitre d'hotel_ style, and exclaimed, "Goot mornung, sir. I
+tink ve are go'n to haf som rain."
+
+[Illustration: "'Ow long 'ave you bin a partner in the firm?"]
+
+Our little corporal appeared astounded at this lack of respect, and,
+going over to the German, he said in a loud voice: "Put thet knife
+dahn, an' stand to attention. Ve'r gorn to 'ave some rine, indeed!" And
+then, in a louder voice, "_Ve_ are. 'Ow long 'ave _you_ bin a partner
+in the firm?"--_Lieut. Edwin J. Barratt (Ex-"Queens" R.W. Surrey
+Regt.), 8 Elborough Street, Southfields, S.W.18._
+
+
+His "Read" Letter Day
+
+At Sorrel le Grand, which our division had just taken in 1917, we took
+up a good position for our machine gun in a small dug-out.
+
+I was cleaning my revolver on one of the steps, and it accidentally
+went off.
+
+To my surprise and horror the bullet struck one of my comrades (who was
+in a sitting position) in the centre of his steel helmet, creating a
+huge dent.
+
+His remark was: "Lummy, it was a jolly good job I was reading one of
+my girl's letters," and then continued reading.--_Robt. Fisher (late
+Corpl., M.G.C.), 15 Mayesbrook Road, Goodmayes, Essex._
+
+
+Dan, the Dandy Detective
+
+Jerry's front line trench and ours were not three hundred yards apart.
+Over that sinister strip of ground attack and counter-attack had
+surged and ebbed in a darkness often turned to day by Verey lights and
+star-shells. Brave men on each side had reached their objective, but
+"fell Sergeant Death" often took charge.
+
+In our sector was a 1914 "Contemptible," who, despite mud and adverse
+conditions, made his New Army comrades smile at his barrack-room
+efforts to keep his uniform and equipment just so.
+
+Of Coster ancestry, his name was Dan, and, of course, they called him
+Dandy. He felt distinctly annoyed when on several days an officer
+passed him in the trench with the third button of his tunic missing.
+"'Is batman ought bloomin' well be for it," he soliloquised.
+
+Another night visit to Jerry's trench, and again some poor fellows stay
+there for keeps. In broad noonday Dan is once more aggrieved by seeing
+an officer with a button missing who halts in the trench to ask him the
+whereabouts of B.H.Q. and other details. The tunic looked the same,
+third button absent, _but it was not the same officer_.
+
+Now Dan's platoon sergeant, also a Londoner, was a man who had
+exchanged his truncheon for a more deadly weapon. Him Dan accosts:
+"I've a conundrum I'd like to arsk you, sergeant, as I don't see
+Sherlock 'Olmes nowhere. W'y do orficers lose their third button?"
+
+As became an ex-policeman, the sergeant's suspicions were aroused by
+the coincidence, so much so indeed that he made discreet enquiries and
+discovered that the original owner of a tunic minus a third button had
+been reported missing, believed dead, after a recent trench raid.
+
+The adjutant very soon made it his business to intercept the new wearer
+and civilly invite him to meet the O.C. at B.H.Q. Result: a firing
+party at dawn.
+
+When the news of the spy filtered through, Dan's comment was; "Once,
+when a rookie, I was crimed at the Tower for paradin' with a button
+missin', but I've got even now by havin' an orficer crimed for the same
+thing, even if he _was_ only a blinkin' 'Un!"--_H. G., Plaistow._
+
+
+The Apology
+
+A heavily-laden and slightly intoxicated Tommy, en route to France,
+entered the Tube at Oxford Circus. As the train started he lurched and
+trod heavily on the toes of a very distinguished "Brass Hat."
+
+Grabbing hold of the strap, he leaned down apologetically and murmured:
+"_Sorry, Sergeant!_"--_Bert Thomas, Church Farm, Pinner, Middlesex._
+
+[Illustration: "Sorry, Sergeant!"]
+
+
+Too Scraggy
+
+We were prisoners in the infamous Fort Macdonald, near Lille, early in
+May 1917, rammed into the dungeons there for a sort of "levelling down
+process," i.e. starvation, brutal treatment, and general misery. After
+eleven days of it we were on our way, emaciated, silent, and miserable,
+to the working camps close behind the German lines, when a Cockney
+voice piped up:
+
+"Nah then, boys, don't be down 'earted. They kin knock yer abaht and
+cut dahn yer rations, but, blimey, they won't _eat_ us--not nah!"--_G.
+F. Green, 14 Alma Square, St. John's Wood, N.W.8._
+
+
+So Why Worry?
+
+The following, written by a London Colonel, was hung up in one of our
+dug-outs:
+
+"When one is a soldier, it is one of two things. One is either in a
+dangerous place, or a cushy one. If in the latter, there is no need to
+worry. If one is in a dangerous place, it is one of two things. One is
+wounded, or one is not. If one is not, there is no need to worry. If
+the former, it is either dangerous or slight. If slight, there is no
+need to worry, but if dangerous, it is one of two alternatives. One
+dies or recovers. If the latter, why worry? If you die you cannot. In
+these circumstances the real Tommy never worries."--_"Alwas," Windmill
+Road, Brentford, Middlesex._
+
+
+Commended by the Kaiser
+
+As prisoners of war we were unloading railway sleepers from trucks when
+a shell dump blew up. German guards and British prisoners scattered in
+all directions. Some of the Germans were badly wounded and, as shells
+continued to explode, no attempt was made by their comrades to succour
+them.
+
+Seeing the plight of the wounded, a Cockney lad called to some
+fellow-prisoners crouching on the ground, "We can't leave 'em to die
+like this. Who's coming with me?"
+
+He and others raced across a number of rail tracks to the wounded men
+and carried them to cover.
+
+For this act of bravery they were later commended by the then
+Kaiser.--_C. H. Porter (late East Surrey Regiment), 118 Fairlands
+Avenue, Thornton Heath, Surrey._
+
+
+Only Fog Signals
+
+We were resting in Poperinghe in December 1915. One morning about 4.30
+a.m. we were called out and rushed to entrain for Vlamertinghe because
+Jerry was attacking.
+
+The train was packed with troops, and we were oiling our rifle bolts
+and checking our ammunition to be ready for action. We had not
+proceeded far when Jerry started trying to hit the train with some
+heavy shells. Several burst very close to the track.
+
+There was one young chap in our compartment huddled in a corner looking
+rather white. "They seem to be trying to hit the train," he said.
+
+"Darkie" Webb, of Poplar, always cheerful and matter-of-fact, looked
+across at the speaker and said, "'It the train? No fear, mate, them's
+only signals; there's fog on the line."--_B. Pigott (late Essex Regt.),
+55 Burdett Avenue, Westcliff-on-Sea._
+
+
+An American's Hustle
+
+I was on the extreme right of the British line on March 22, 1918, and
+was severely wounded. I was picked up by the U.S. Red Cross.
+
+There was accommodation for four in the ambulance, and this was
+apportioned between two Frenchmen, a Cockney gunner, and myself.
+
+Anxious to keep our spirits up, the kindly Yankee driver said, "Cheer
+up! I'll soon get you there and see you put right," and as if to prove
+his words he rushed the ambulance off at express speed, with the result
+that in a few moments he knocked down a pedestrian.
+
+A short rest whilst he adjusted matters with the unfortunate
+individual, then off again at breakneck speed.
+
+The Cockney had, up to now, been very quiet, but when our driver barely
+missed a group of Tommies and in avoiding them ran into a wagon, the
+Londoner raised himself on his elbow and in a hoarse voice said, "Naw
+then, Sam, what the 'ell are you playing at? 'Aint yer got enough
+customers?"--_John Thomas Sawyer (8th East Surreys), 88 Wilcox Road,
+S.W.8._
+
+
+Truth about Parachutes
+
+Most English balloon observers were officers, but occasionally a
+non-commissioned man was taken up in order to give him experience.
+
+On one such occasion the balloon burst in the air. The two occupants
+made a hasty parachute exit from the basket. The courtesy usually
+observed by the senior officer, of allowing the other parachute to get
+clear before he jumps, was not possible in this instance, with the
+result that the officer got entangled with the "passenger's" parachute,
+which consequently did not open.
+
+Fortunately the officer's parachute functioned successfully and brought
+both men safely to earth. Upon landing they were rather badly dragged
+along the ground, being finally pulled up in a bush.
+
+The "passenger," a Cockney sergeant, was damaged a good deal, but upon
+being picked up and asked how he had enjoyed his ride he answered, "Oh,
+it was all right, but a parachute is like a wife or a toof-brush--you
+reely want one to yourself."--_Basil Mitchell (late R.A.F.), 51 Long
+Lane, Finchley, N.3._
+
+
+The Linguist
+
+[Illustration: "Moi--vous--'im--avec Allah!"]
+
+An Indian mule driver had picked up a German hand grenade of the
+"potato masher" type, which he evidently regarded as a heaven-sent
+implement for driving in a peg. Two Tommies tried to dissuade him, but,
+though he desisted, he was obviously puzzled. So one of the Cockneys
+tried to explain. "Vous compree Allah?" he asked, and raised his hand
+above his head. Satisfied that the increasing look of bewilderment was
+really one of complete enlightenment, he proceeded to go through a
+pantomime of striking with the "potato masher" and, solemnly pointing
+in turn to himself, to the Indian, and to his companion, said: "Moi,
+vous, and 'im--avec Allah."--_J. F. Seignoir (Lt., R.A.), 13 Moray
+Place, Cheshunt, Herts._
+
+
+Billiards isn't all Cannons
+
+My regiment was in action on the Marne on September 20, 1914. We had
+been hammering, and had been hammered at, for some hours, until there
+were very few of us left, and those few, being almost all of them
+wounded or short of ammunition, were eventually captured and taken
+behind the German lines.
+
+As we passed their trenches we saw a great number of German wounded
+lying about.
+
+One of our lads, a reservist, who was a billiards marker in Stepney,
+although badly wounded, could not resist a gibe at a German officer.
+
+"Strewth, Old Sausage and Mash," he cried, "your blokes may be good at
+the cannon game, but we can beat yer at pottin' the blinkin' red. Look
+at yer perishin' number board" (meaning the German killed and wounded).
+And with a sniff of contempt he struggled after his mates into
+captivity.--_T. C. Rainbird (late Pte., 1st West Yorks), 41 Cavalry
+Crescent, Eastbourne, Sussex._
+
+
+Run?--Not Likely
+
+It was the beginning of the spring offensive, 1918, and the 2nd Army
+Gun School, Wisques, was empty, as the men had gone into the line. A
+handful of Q.M.A.A.C. cooks were standing by.
+
+I sent two little Cockney girls over to the instructors' chateau to
+keep the fires up in case the men returned suddenly. I went to the camp
+gate as an enemy bombing plane passed over. The girls had started back,
+and were half-way across the field. The plane flew so low that the men
+leaned over the side and jeered at us.
+
+I held my breath as it passed the girls--would they shoot them in
+passing? The girls did not hasten, but presently reached me with faces
+as white as paper.
+
+"Why didn't you run?" I said.
+
+"Lor', mum," came the reply, "yer didn't think as 'ow we was a-goin'
+ter run with them there Germans up there, did ye? Not much!"--_C. N.
+(late U.A., Q.M.A.A.C.), Heathcroft, Hampstead Way, N.W._
+
+
+At "The Bow Bells" Concert
+
+Whilst having a short spell away from the front line I attended a
+performance given in Arras by the divisional concert party, "The Bow
+Bells."
+
+During one of the items a long-range shell struck the building,
+fortunately without causing any casualties among the audience.
+
+Although front-line troops are not given to "windiness," the
+unexpectedness of this unwelcome arrival brought about a few moments'
+intense silence, which was broken by a Cockney who remarked, "Jerry
+_would_ come in wivvaht payin'."--_L. S. Smith (late 1-7 Middlesex
+Regt., 56th Division, B.E.F.), 171 Langham Road, N.15._
+
+
+A Bomb and a Pillow
+
+During part of the war my work included salving and destroying "dud"
+shells and bombs in the back areas. On one occasion in an air-raid a
+"dud" bomb glanced through the side of a hut occupied by some fitters
+belonging to an M.T. section of R.E.'s.
+
+This particular bomb (weighing about 100 lb.), on its passage through
+the hut had torn the corner of a pillow on which the owner's head was
+lying and carried feathers for several feet into the ground.
+
+We dug about ten feet down and then, as the hole filled with water as
+fast as we could pump it out, we gave it up, the tail, which had become
+detached a few feet down, being the only reward of our efforts.
+
+While we were in the midst of our operations the owner of the
+pillow--very "bucked" at being unhurt after such a narrow shave--came
+to look on, and with a glance down the hole and a grin at me said,
+"Well, sir, if I'd known it 'ud give yer so much trouble, I'd 'a caught
+it!"--_Arthur G. Grutchfield (late Major (D.A.D.O.S. Ammn.) R.A.O.C.),
+Hill Rise, Sanderstead Road, Sanderstead, Surrey._
+
+
+Athletics in the Khyber Pass
+
+During the Afghan operations I was resting my company on the side of
+the road at the Afghan entrance to the Khyber Pass. It was mid-day
+and the heat was terrific, when along that heat-stricken road came a
+British battalion. They had marched 15 miles that morning from Ali
+Musfd. Their destination was Landi Kana, five miles below us on the
+plain.
+
+As they came round the bend a cheer went up, for they spotted specks of
+white canvas in the distance. Most of the battalion seemed to be on the
+verge of collapse from the heat, but one Tommy, a Cockney, broke from
+the ranks and had a look at the camp in the distance, and exclaimed:
+"Coo! If I 'ad me running pumps I could sprint it!"--_Capt. A. G. A.
+Barton, M.C., Indian Army, "The Beeches," The Beeches Road, Perry Bar,
+Birmingham._
+
+
+Jack and his Jack Johnsons
+
+In September 1915 our battery near Ypres was crumped at intervals of
+twenty minutes by 18-in. shells. The craters they made could easily
+contain a lorry or two.
+
+One hit by the fifth shell destroyed our chateau completely. Leaving
+our dug-outs I found a gunner smoking fags under the fish-net
+camouflage at Number One gun.
+
+Asked sternly why he had not gone to ground, he replied, "Well,
+yer see, sir, I'm really a sailor and when the earth rocks with
+Jack Johnsons I feels at 'ome like. Besides, the nets keeps off the
+flies."--_G. C. D. (ex-Gunner Subaltern, 14th Div.), Sister Agnes
+Officers' Hospital, Grosvenor Crescent, S.W.1._
+
+
+Even Davy Jones Protested
+
+Towards the final stages of the Palestine front operations, when Johnny
+Turk was retreating very rapidly, I was detailed with others to clear
+and destroy enemy ammunition that had been left behind.
+
+When near the Sea of Galilee there was discovered a dump of aerial
+bombs, each approximately 25 lb. in weight. Thinking it quicker and
+attended by less risk than the usual detonation, I decided to drop them
+in the sea.
+
+About ten bombs were placed aboard a small boat, and I with three
+others pushed out about two hundred yards. Two of the bombs were
+dropped overboard without ever a thought of danger when suddenly there
+was a heavy, dull explosion beneath us, and boat, cargo, and crew were
+thrown into the air.
+
+Nobody was hurt. All clung to the remains of the boat, and we were
+brought back to our senses by one of our Cockney companions, who
+remarked: "Even Davy Jones won't have the ruddy fings."--_A. W. Owen
+(late Corporal, Desert Corps), 9 Keith Road, Walthamstow, E.17._
+
+
+"Parti? Don't blame 'im!"
+
+One summer afternoon in 1915 I was asked to deliver an official letter
+to the Mayor of Poperinghe. The old town was not then so well known as
+Toc H activities have since made it. At the time it was being heavily
+strafed by long-range guns. Many of the inhabitants had fled.
+
+I rode over with a pal. The door of the _mairie_ was open, but the
+building appeared as deserted as the great square outside.
+
+Just then a Belgian gendarme walked in and looked at us inquiringly. I
+showed him the buff envelope inscribed "_Monsieur le Maire_," whereupon
+he smiled and said, "_Parti_."
+
+At that moment there was a deafening crash outside and the air was
+filled with flying debris and acrid smoke. In a feeling voice my chum
+quietly remarked, "And I don't blinkin' well blame 'im, either!"--_F.
+Street, 13 Greenfield Road, Eastbourne._
+
+
+    _Printed in Great Britain by Hasell, Watson & Viney, Ltd.,
+    London and Aylesbury._
+
+    _Published by Associated Newspapers, Ltd., London, E.C.4._
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes
+
+Obvious errors of punctuation and diacritics repaired.
+
+Hyphenation was made consistent.
+
+P. 49: "Dorian Lake" changed to "Doiran Lake".
+
+P. 103: "Hindenbrug" changed to "Hindenburg".
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COCKNEY WAR STORIES ***
+
+***** This file should be named 44263.txt or 44263.zip *****
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