This weight was causing him a good deal of pain, and as I could do nothing to alleviate it I asked the M.O. to explain to him the necessity for the extension. He did so and ended up by saying, "You know, we want your leg to be straight, old man." The Tommy replied: "Wot's the good of making that leg strite w'en the uvver one's bowed?"--_Muriel A. Batey (V.A.D. Nurse), The North Cottage, Adderstone Crescent, Newcastle-upon-Tyne._ He Saw It Through In the big general hospital at Colchester the next bed to mine was occupied by a typical Cockney who was very seriously wounded. It was little short of marvellous that he was alive at all. Early one morning he became so ill that the hospital chaplain was sent to administer the Last Sacrament and the little Londoner's parents were telegraphed for. About nine o'clock he rallied a little, and apparently realised that the authorities had given him up as hopeless, for with a great effort he half-sat up and, with his eyes ablaze, cried: "Wot? You fink I'm goin' ter die? Well, you're all wrong! I've bin in this war since it started, an' I intends to be in it at the finish. So I just _won't_ die, to spite yer, see?" His unconquerable spirit pulled him through, and he is alive--and well--to-day!--_A. C. P. (late 58th (London) Division), Fulham, S.W.6._ As Good as the Pictures 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._ Room for the Comforter 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.