In 1916 the British R.N.A.S. armoured cars, under Commander Oliver
Locker-Lampson, went from Russia to Rumania to help to stem the enemy's
advance.
One day, at the frontier town of Reni, I saw a Cockney petty officer
engaged in earnest conversation with a Russian soldier. Finally, the
two shook hands solemnly, saluted, and parted.
"Did he speak English?" I asked when the Russian had gone away. "Not
'im," said the P.O.
"Perhaps you speak Russian?" I asked, my curiosity aroused. "No
bloomin' fear!" he said, for all the world as if I had insulted him.
"Then how do you speak to each other?"
"That's easy, sir," he said. "'E comes up to me an' says 'Ooski,
kooski, wooski, fooski.' 'Same to you,' says I, 'an' many of 'em,
ol' cock.' 'Bzz-z-z, mzz-z-z, tzz-z-z,' says 'e. 'Thanks,' I says.
'Another time, ol' boy. I've just 'ad a couple.' 'Tooralski, looralski,
pooralski,' 'e says. 'Ye don't say!' says I. 'An' very nice, too,' I
says, 'funny face!'
"'Armony," he explained. "No quarrellin', no argifyin', only peace an'
'armony.... Of course, sir, every now an' again I says 'Go to 'ell, y'
silly blighter!'"
"What for?"
He looked at me coldly. "'Ow do I know but what the blighter's usin'
insultin' words to me?" he asked.--_R. S. Liddell, Rosebery Avenue,
E.C.1._