On the Struma Front, Salonika, in September 1916, I was detailed to
take a party of Bulgar prisoners behind the lines.
Two Bulgars, one of them a huge, bald-headed man, were carrying a
stretcher in which was reposing "Ginger" Hart, of Deptford, who was
shot through the leg.
The white bursts of shrapnel continued in our vicinity as we proceeded.
One shell burst immediately in front of us, and we halted.
It was at this juncture that I saw "Ginger" leave his stretcher and
hop away on one leg. Having picked up a tin hat, he hopped back to the
big Bulgar prisoner and put the hat on his bald head, saying, "Abaht
time we put the lid on the sooit puddin', corp: that's the fifth shot
they've fired at that target."--_G. Findlay, M.M. (late 81st Infantry
Brigade, 27th Division), 3a Effie Place, Fulham, S.W.6._
Taffy was a--German!
In the confused fighting round Gueudecourt in 1916 a machine-gun
section occupied a position in a maze of trenches, some of which led
towards the German line. The divisional pioneer battalion was the
Monmouthshire Regiment, all of whose men were Welsh and for the most
part spoke Welsh.
A ration party of the M.G.C. had gone back one night and had been
absent some time when two members rushed into the position, gasping:
"We took the wrong turning! Walked into Jerry's line! They've got
Smiffy--and the rations!"
We had hardly got over the shock of this news when Smiffy came
staggering up, dragging the rations and mopping a bleeding face, at the
same time cursing the rest of the ration party.
"Luv us, Smiffy, how did you get away? We thought the Germans had got
you for sure!"
"Germans," gasped Smiffy. "GERMANS! _I thought they was the
Monmouths!_"--_S. W. Baxter (late 86th M.G.C.), 110 Bishopsgate, E.C.2._