Out of the ebb and flow, the mud and blood, the din and confusion
of a two days' strafe on the Somme in September 1917 my particular
chum, Private James X., otherwise known as "Dismal Jimmy," emerged
with a German prisoner who was somewhat below the usual stature and
considerably the worse for the wear and tear of his encounter with the
Cockney soldier.
"Jimmy," although obviously proud of his captive, was, as usual, "fed
up" with the war, the strafe, and everything else. To make matters
worse, on his way to the support trenches he was caught in the head by
a sniper's bullet.
His pet grievance, however, did not come from this particular
misfortune, but from the fact that the prisoner had not taken advantage
of the opportunity to "'Op it!" when the incident occurred. "Wot yer
fink ov 'im, mate?" he queried. "Followed me all rahnd the blinkin'
trenches, 'e did! Thinks I got a bit o' tripe on a skewer, maybe, th'
dirty dog!" "Jimmy" muttered. Then he came under the orders of a Higher
Command.--_H. J. R., 1 Central Buildings, Westminster, S.W.1._