At Etaples in 1916 I was in a hospital marquee with nothing worse than
a sprained ankle. A Y.M.C.A. officer was visiting us, giving a cheery
word here and there, together with a very welcome packet of cigarettes.
In the next cot to me was a young Cockney of the "Diehards," who had
been well peppered with shrapnel. His head was almost entirely swathed
in bandages, openings being left for his eyes, nose, and mouth.
"Well, old chap," said the good Samaritan to him, "they seem to have
got you pretty badly."
"I'm all right, guv'nor--ser long as they leaves me an 'ole to put
me fag in."--_A. E. Jeffreys (late 4th Q.O. Hussars), 24 Byne Road,
Sydenham, S.E. 26._
"War Worn and Tonsillitis"
My son, Gunner E. Smith (an "Old Contemptible"), came home on leave in
September 1918, and after a day or two had something wrong with his
throat. I advised him to see the M.O.
He went and came back saying, "Just look at this." The certificate said
"War worn and tonsillitis."
He went to the hospital, and was kept in for three weeks. The first
time I went to see him, he said, "What do you think of it? A 1914 man,
and knocked over by a kid's complaint."--_F. Smith, 23 Saunders Road,
Plumstead, S.E.18._
"... Fort I was in 'Ell"
It was at the American General Hospital in Rouen. There was the usual
noise created by chaps under anesthetic, swearing, shouting, singing,
and moaning; but the fellow in the next bed to me had not stirred since
they had brought him from the operating theatre many hours before.
Suddenly he sat up, looked around him in amazement, and said, "Strike,
I've bin a-lying 'ere fer abaht two 'ours afraid ter open me peepers.
I fort I was in 'ell."--_P. Webb (late E. Surreys), 68 Rossiter Road,
Balham, S.W.12._
Pity the Poor Fly!
Amongst my massage patients at one of the general hospitals was a very
cheery Cockney sergeant, who had been badly damaged by shrapnel. In
addition to other injuries he had lost an eye.
One morning he was issued with a new eye, and was very proud of it.
After admiring himself in a small mirror for a considerable time he
turned to me and said, "Sister, won't it be a blinkin' sell for the fly
who gets into my glass eye?"--_(Mrs.) A. Powell, 61 Ritherdon Road,
S.W.17._