On a wet and cold winter's night in the hills south of Nablus
(Palestine) a sentry heard sounds as of slipping feet and strange
guttural noises from the direction of the front line. He waited with
his rifle at the port and then challenged: "Halt! who goes there?"
A thin, dismal voice came from the darkness. "A pore miserable blighter
with five ruddy camels."
"Pass, miserable blighter, all's well," replied the sentry.
Into the sentry's view came a rain-soaked disconsolate-looking Tommy
"towing" five huge ration camels.
"All's well, is it? Coo! Not 'arf!" said he.--_W. E. Bickmore (late "C"
303 Brigade, R.F.A., 60th Div.), 121 Gouville Road, Thornton Heath,
Surrey._