A Cockney soldier had his leg shattered. When he came round in hospital the doctors told him they had been obliged to take his leg off. "Taken my leg off? Blimey! Where is it? Hi, wot yer done wiv it? Fer 'Eaven's sake, find my leg, somebody; it's got seven and a tanner in the stocking."--_S. W. Baker, 23 Trinity Road, Bedford._ Seven His Lucky Number Scene: the plank road outside St. Jean. Stretcher-bearers bringing down a man whose left leg had been blown away below the knee. A man coming up recognises the man on the stretcher, and the following conversation ensues: "Hello, Bill!" Then, catching sight of the left leg: "Blimey! You ain't 'arf copped it." The Reply: A faint smile, a right hand feebly pointing to the left sleeve already bearing _six_ gold stripes, and a hoarse voice which said, "Anuvver one, and seven's me lucky number."--_S. G. Wallis Norton, Norton House, Peaks Hill, Purley._ Blind Man's Buff The hospital ship _Dunluce Castle_, on which I was serving, was taking the wounded and sick from Gallipoli. Among the wounded brought on board one evening was a man who was badly hurt about his face. Our M.O. thought the poor chap's eyes were sightless. Imagine our surprise when, in the morning, finding that his eyes were bandaged, he pulled himself to a sitting posture in bed, turned his head round and cried out, "S'y, boys, who's fer a gime of blind man's buff?" I am glad to say that the sight of one eye was saved.--_F. T. Barley, 24, Station Avenue, Prittlewell, Southend._ Self-Supporting After being wounded at Ypres in July 1917, I was being sent home. When we were all aboard, an orderly came round with life-belts. When he got to the next stretcher to me, on which lay a man who had his arm and leg in splints, he asked the usual question ("Can you look after yourself if anything happens going across?"), and received the faint answer: "Lumme, mate, I've enough wood on me to make a raft."--_A. E. Fuller (36th Battery R.F.A.), 21 Pendragon Road, Downham Estate, Bromley._ In the Butterfly Division On arriving at the hospital at Dames Camiers, we were put to bed. In the next bed to mine was a young Cockney who had lost three fingers of his right hand and his left arm below the elbow. The hospital orderly came to take particulars of our wounds, etc. Having finished with me, he turned to the Cockney. Rank, name, and regimental number were given, and then the orderly asked, "Which division are you from?" "Why, the 19th," came the answer; and then, as an afterthought, "that's the butterfly division, yer know, but I've 'ad me blinkin' wings clipped."--_H. Redford (late R.F.A.), 49 Anselm Road, Fulham, S.W.6._ An Unfair Leg-Pull I was working in a surgical ward at a base hospital, and among the patients was a Tommy with a fractured thigh-bone. He had his leg in a splint and, as was customary in these cases, there was an extension at the foot-piece with a heavy weight attached to prevent shortening of the leg.