Chapter VI: Part 6

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."

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._

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.

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.

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.

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._

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._

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?"

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.

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.

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?"

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.

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.

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.

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.