At the Battle of Cambrai in November 1917 my regiment, the London Irish
Rifles, was undergoing a terrific bombardment in Bourlon Wood.
The Germans had been plastering us for about 12 hours with "all
calibres," to say nothing of continual gassing.
As we had been wearing gas-masks almost all day without respite, we
were nearly "all in" as the afternoon wore on.
I was attending to a man with a smashed foot, when I felt a touch on
my shoulder, and, blinking up through my sweat-covered mask, I saw our
mess-orderly with his hand over a mess-tin (to keep the gas out, as he
said).
I could hardly believe my eyes, but when I heard him say, "Tea is
ready, Sarg. Blimey, what a strafe!" I lifted my mask and drank deeply.
From that day till this it has been a wonder to me how he made it.--_S.
Gibbons,130 Buckhold Road, Southfields, S.W.18._