We were going up the line at Bullecourt in April 1917. I have rather
bad eyesight and my glasses had been smashed. Being the last of the
file I lost touch with the others and had no idea where I was. However,
I stumbled on, and eventually reached the front line.
[Illustration: "Take those bells orf."]
Upon the ground were some empty petrol cans tied up ready to be taken
down to be filled with water. I tripped up amongst these and created
an awful din, whereupon an angry voice came from out the gloom.--"I
don't know 'oo or wot the dickens you are, but for 'eaven's sake take
those bells orf!"--_W. G. Root (late 12th London Regt.), 24 Harrington
Square, N.W.1._
"The Awfentic Gramerphone!"
This happened on that wicked March 21, 1918.
During a lull in the scrapping, a lone German wandered too near, and we
collared him. He was handed over to Alf, our Cockney cookie.
Things got blacker for us. We could see Germans strung out in front of
us and on both flanks--Germans and machine guns everywhere.
"Well, boys," said our major, "looks as if it's all up with us, doesn't
it?"
"There's this abaht it, sir," said Alf, pointing to his prisoner; "when
it comes to chuckin' our 'ands in, we've got the awfentic gramerphone
to yell 'Kamerad!'--ain't we?"--_C. Vanon, 33 Frederick Street, W.C.1._