The colonel of the regiment, gifted with the resonant voice of a
dare-devil leader, was highly esteemed for his rigid sense of duty,
especially in the presence of the enemy.
The Germans had been troubling us a lot with gas, and this kept
everyone on the _qui vive_.
Accompanied by the colonel, the divisional commander was making his
usual inspection of the front line intent on the alertness of sentries.
In one fire-bay the colonel stopped to give instructions regarding a
ventilating machine which had been used to keep the trench clear of gas
after each attack.
Meanwhile the general moved on towards the other end of the fire-bay,
where the sentry, fresh out from the reserve battalion recruited in
Bermondsey, stood with his eyes glued to the periscope.
A natural impulse of the general as he noticed the weather-vane on the
parapet was to test the sentry's intelligence on "gas attack by the
enemy," so as he approached the soldier he addressed him in a genial
and confiding manner: "Well, my lad, and how's the wind blowing this
morning?"
Welcoming a little respite, as he thought, from periscope strain,
by way of a short "chin-wag" with one or other of his pals, the
unsuspecting sentry rubbed his hands gleefully together as he turned
round with the reply: "'Taint 'arf so dusty arter all." Then, suddenly
through the corner of his eye he caught sight of his colonel at the
other end of the fire-bay. His face instantly changed its cheerful
aspect as he breathlessly whispered to his inquirer, "Lumme, the
ole man! 'Ere, mate, buzz orf quick--a-a-an' don't let 'im cop yer
a-talkin' to the sentry on dooty, or Jerry's barrage will be a washaht
when the Big Noise starts _'is_ fireworks!"--_William St. John Spencer
(late East Surrey Regiment), "Roydsmoor," Arneson Road, East Molesey,
Surrey._