To which the Cockney replied, "Victoria--if I could only get there."--_J. Hearn, 24 Christchurch Street, S.W.3._ He Saw the Force of It In February 1915 we beat out our weary patrol near the Scillies. Our ship met such heavy weather that only the bravest souls could keep a cheery countenance. Running into a growing storm, and unable to turn from the racing head seas, we beat out our unwilling way into the Atlantic. Three days later we limped back to base with injured men, hatches stove in, winch pipes and boats torn away. Our forward gun was smashed and leaned over at a drunken angle. Early in the morning the crew were taking a well-earned rest, and the decks were deserted but for the usual stoker, taking a breath of air after his stand-by watch. A dockyard official, seeing our damage, came on board, and, after viewing the wrecked gun at close quarters, turned to the stoker with the remark: "Do you mean to say that the sea smashed a heavy gun like that, my man?" The stoker, spitting with uncanny accuracy at a piece of floating wood overside, looked at the official: "Nah," he said, "it wasn't the blinking sea; the ryne done it!"--_A. Marsden (Engineer-Lieutenant-Commander, R.N.), Norbrook Cottage, Leith Park Road, Gravesend._ New Skin--Brand New! Two mines--explosion--many killed--hundreds drowned. We were sinking fast. I scrambled quickly out of my hammock and up the hatchway. On deck, leaning against the bulkhead, was a shipmate, burned from head to foot. More amazing than fiction was his philosophy and coolness as he hailed me with, "'Cher, Darby! Got a fag? I ain't had a 'bine since Pa died." I was practically "in the nude," and could not oblige him. Three years later I was taking part at a sports meeting at Dunkirk when I was approached by--to me--a total stranger. "What 'cher, Darby--ain't dead yet then. What! Don't you remember H.M.S. _Russell_? Of course I've altered a bit now--new skin--just like a two-year-old--brand new." Brand new externally, but the philosophy was unaltered.--_"Darby," 405 Valence Avenue, Chadwell Heath, Essex._ A Zeebrugge Memory During the raid on Zeebrugge, one of our number had his arms blown away. When things quietened a little my chum and I laid him on a mess table and proceeded to tend his wounds. My chum tried to light the mess-deck "bogey" (fire), the chimney of which had been removed for the action. After the match had been applied, we soon found ourselves in a fog. Then the wounded man remarked: "I say, chum! If I'm going to die, let's die a white man, not a black 'un." The poor fellow died before reaching harbour.--_W. A. Brooks, 14 Ramsden Road, N.11._ Another Perch in the Roost On the morning of September 22, 1914, when the cruisers _Aboukir_, _Hogue_, and _Cressy_ were torpedoed, we were dotted about in the water, helping each other where possible and all trying to get some support. When one piece got overloaded it meant the best swimmers trying their luck elsewhere.