I met him coming from the front line, one of "London's Own." He was
taking back the most miserable and sullen-looking prisoner I have ever
seen.
"Got a light, Jock?" he asked me. I obliged. "'Ave a Ruby Queen,
matey?" I accepted.
"Cheerful-looking customer you've got there, Fusie," I ventured,
pointing to his prisoner.
[Illustration: "... and if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's
'opeless."]
He looked up in disgust. "Cheerful? Lummie, he gives me the creeps.
I've orfered 'im a fag, and played 'Katie' and 'When this luvly war is
over' on me old mouf orgin for him, but not a bloomin' smile. An' I've
shown him me souvenirs and a photograph of me old woman, and, blimey,
if that don't make a bloke laugh, well, it's 'opeless!"
And then, with a cheery "Mercy bokoo, matey," and a "Come on, 'Appy,"
to his charge, he pushed on.--_Charles Sumner (late London Scottish),
Butler's Cottage, Sutton Lane, Heston, Middlesex._
"Birdie" Had to Smile
While I was serving with the Australians at Gallipoli in 1915 I was
detailed to take charge of a fatigue party to carry water from the
beach to the front line, a distance of about a mile.
Our way lay over rather dangerous and extremely hilly country. The
weather was very hot. Each man in the party had to carry four petrol
tins of water.
While trudging along a narrow communication trench we were confronted
by General Birdwood and his A.D.C. As was the general's cheery way, he
stopped, and to the man in front (one "Stumpy" Stewart, a Cockney who
had been in Australia for some time) he remarked, "Well, my man, how do
you like this place?"
"Stumpy" shot a quick glance at the general and then blurted out,
"Well, sir, 't'aint the sort of plice you'd bring your Jane to, is it?"
I can see "Birdie's" smile now.--_C. Barrett (Lieut., Aust. Flying
Corps, then 6th Aust. Light Horse), Charing Cross, W.C._