Towards the final stages of the Palestine front operations, when Johnny
Turk was retreating very rapidly, I was detailed with others to clear
and destroy enemy ammunition that had been left behind.
When near the Sea of Galilee there was discovered a dump of aerial
bombs, each approximately 25 lb. in weight. Thinking it quicker and
attended by less risk than the usual detonation, I decided to drop them
in the sea.
About ten bombs were placed aboard a small boat, and I with three
others pushed out about two hundred yards. Two of the bombs were
dropped overboard without ever a thought of danger when suddenly there
was a heavy, dull explosion beneath us, and boat, cargo, and crew were
thrown into the air.
Nobody was hurt. All clung to the remains of the boat, and we were
brought back to our senses by one of our Cockney companions, who
remarked: "Even Davy Jones won't have the ruddy fings."--_A. W. Owen
(late Corporal, Desert Corps), 9 Keith Road, Walthamstow, E.17._
"Parti? Don't blame 'im!"
One summer afternoon in 1915 I was asked to deliver an official letter
to the Mayor of Poperinghe. The old town was not then so well known as
Toc H activities have since made it. At the time it was being heavily
strafed by long-range guns. Many of the inhabitants had fled.
I rode over with a pal. The door of the _mairie_ was open, but the
building appeared as deserted as the great square outside.
Just then a Belgian gendarme walked in and looked at us inquiringly. I
showed him the buff envelope inscribed "_Monsieur le Maire_," whereupon
he smiled and said, "_Parti_."
At that moment there was a deafening crash outside and the air was
filled with flying debris and acrid smoke. In a feeling voice my chum
quietly remarked, "And I don't blinkin' well blame 'im, either!"--_F.
Street, 13 Greenfield Road, Eastbourne._
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