After riding for several hours one wet, windy, and miserable night,
with everyone soaked to the skin and fed up generally, we were halted
in a field which, owing to the heavy rain, was more like a lake.
On receiving the order to dismount and loosen girths, one of our number
remained mounted and was busy flashing a small torch on the water
when the sergeant, not too gently, inquired, "Why the dickens are
you still mounted, and what the deuce are you looking for anyway?" To
which a Cockney voice replied, "Blimey, sergeant, where's the landing
stage?"--_"Jimmy" (late Essex Yeomanry)._