In the brick-fields at La Bassée, 1915, there was a pump about five
yards from our front line which we dare not approach in daylight. At
night it was equally dangerous as it squeaked and so drew the sniper's
fire.
We gave up trying to use it after a few of our fellows had been sniped
in their attempts, until Nobby Clarke said _he_ would get the water,
adding: "That blinkin' sniper hasn't my name on any of his ruddy
bullets."
After he had gone we heard the usual squeak of the pump, followed by
the inevitable _ping!_ ... _ping!_ We waited. No Nobby returned.
Two of us crawled out to where he lay to bring him in. "Strewth, Bill,"
he cried when my mate touched him, "you didn't 'arf put the blinkin'
wind up me, _creepin' aht like that_!"
There he lay, on his back, with a piece of rope tied to the handle of
the pump. We always got our water after that.--_F. J. Pike (late 2nd
Grenadier Guards), 4 Hilldrop Road, Bromley, Kent._
"Toot-Sweet," the Runner
Scene: Before Combles in the front line.
Position: Acute.
Several runners had been despatched from the forward position with
urgent messages for Headquarters, and all had suffered the common
fate of these intrepid fellows. One Cockney named Sweet, and known
as "Toot-Sweet" for obvious reasons, had distinguished himself upon
various occasions in acting as a runner.
A volunteer runner was called for to cover a particularly dangerous
piece of ground, and our old friend was to the fore as usual. "But,"
said the company officer, "I can't send you again--someone else must
go."
Imagine his astonishment when "Toot-Sweet" said, "Giv' us this charnce,
sir. I've got two mentions in dispatches now, an' I only want annuvver
to git a medal."
He went, but he did not get a medal.--_E. V. S. (late Middlesex Regt.),
London, N.W.2._