Part 12

"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?"

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._