It was at the village of Zudkerque, where Fritz had bombed and blown up
a dump in 1916. My pal and I were standing outside a cafe, the windows
of which were shuttered, when the blast of a terrific explosion blew
out the shutters. They hit my pal and me on the head and knocked us
into the roadway.
My pal picked himself up, and, shaking bits of broken glass off him and
holding a badly gashed head, said: "Lumme, Ginger, they don't 'arf open
up quick 'ere. Let's go an 'ave one."--_J. March (late R.E.), London,
S.E._