In Salonika during 1916 I was taken to a field hospital, en route for
the Base Hospital.
All merry and bright when lying down, but helpless when perpendicular,
was a comrade in the next bed to me. We were to be moved next day.
I was interested in him, as he told me he belonged to "Berm-on-Sea,"
which happens to be my birth-place. Well, close to our marquee were
the dump and transport lines, which we could plainly see through the
entrance to the marquee.
Sister was taking our temperatures when we heard an explosion. Johnnie
had "found" the dump. An officer ran through the marquee, ordering
everyone to the dug-outs, and they promptly obeyed.
I looked at Bermondsey Bill. He said: "We are beat. Let's stop and
watch the fireworks."
We were helpless on our feet. I tried to walk, but had to give it
up. A new commotion then began, and Bill exclaimed: "Blimey, 'ere
comes Flying Fox rahnd Tattenham Corner." It was a badly-wounded and
panic-stricken mule. It dashed through our marquee, sent Sister's table
flying, found the exit and collapsed outside.
Sister returned (she was the right stuff) and said: "Hello, what's
happened here? And you boys still in bed! Hadn't you better try and get
to the dug-outs?"
Bermondsey Bill said: "We'll stick it aht nah, Sister, an' fancy we're
at the pictures."--_J. W. Fairbrass, 131 Sutton Dwellings, Upper
Street, Islington, N.1._