Part 8

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.