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._