An N.C.O. in the Engineers, I was guiding a party of about seventy
Royal Fusiliers (City of London Regt.) through a trench system between
Cambrin, near Loos, and the front line. About half-way the trenches
were in many places knee-deep in mud. It was about 2 a.m. and shelling
made things far from pleasant. Then word came up that we had lost touch
with the tail-end of the party, and a halt was called, most of us
standing in mud two feet deep.
The officer in charge sent a message back asking why the tail-end had
failed to keep up. The reply came back in due course: "Man lost his
gumboot in the mud." The officer, becoming annoyed at the delay, sent
back the message: "Who's the fool who lost his gumboot?"
I heard the message receding into the distance with the words "fool"
"gumboot" preceded by increasingly lurid adjectives. In about three or
four minutes I heard the answer being passed up, getting louder and
louder: "Charlie Chaplin," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN," "CHARLIE CHAPLIN." Even
our sorely-tried officer had to laugh.--_P. Higson, Lancashire._
"Compree 'Sloshy'?"
During one of the Passchendaele advances in 1917 my battery was
situated astride a board roadway leading over the ridge. After this
particular show was over I happened to be in the telephone dug-out when
prisoners started coming back.
One weary little lance-jack in a London regiment arrived in charge
of an enormous, spectacled, solemn-looking Fritz. As he reached the
battery position he paused to rest and look at the guns.
Leaning against the side of the dug-out he produced a cigarette end
and, lighting it, proceeded to make conversation with his charge which,
being out of sight, I was privileged to overhear.
"Ain't 'arf blinkin' sloshy 'ere, ain't it, Fritz? Compree sloshy?" No
reply.
He tried again. "Got a cushy job these 'ere artillery blokes, ain't
they? Compree cushy?" Still no answer.
He made a third attempt. "S'pose you're abart fed up with this blinkin'
guerre. Compree guerre?" Again the stony, uncomprehending silence; and
then:
"Garn, yer don't know nuffink, yer don't, yer ignorant blighter. Say
another blinkin' word and I'll knock yer blinkin' block orf."--_A. E.
Joyce (late R.F.A.), Swallowcroft, Broxbourne Road, Orpington, Kent._