We had been on a gunnery course up Hornsey way, and with skeleton kit were returning past a large field in which were three gas chambers used for gas drill. No one was allowed even to go in the field unless equipped with a gas-mask. Suddenly a voice called out, "Look, there's a man trying to get in yon chamber." We shouted as loud as we could, but beyond waving his arms the figure--which looked to be that of a farm labourer--continued to push at the door. Then I saw "London" leap the gate of the field and sprint towards the chamber. When he was about 50 yards off the man gave a sudden lurch at the door and passed within. We called to "London" to come back, but a couple of seconds later he too was lost from view. One minute--it seemed like an hour--two, three, five, ten, and out came "London." He dragged with him the bulky labourer. Five yards from the chamber he dropped. Disregarding orders, we ran to his assistance. Both his eyes were swollen, his lip was cut, and a large gash on the cheek-bone told not of gas, but of a fight. He soon came to--and pointing to his many cuts said, "Serves me right for interfering. Thought the fellah might have been gassed, but there's none in there; and hell--he _can_ hit."--_"Selo-Sam," late Yorks Dragoons._ "... Wouldn't Come Off" He hailed from Walworth and was the unfortunate possessor of a permanent grin. The trouble began at the training camp at Seaford when the captain was inspecting the company. "Who are you grinning at?" said he. "Beg parding," replied Smiler, "but I can't help it, sir. I was born like it." On the "other side" it was the same. The captain would take Smiler's grin as a distinct attempt to "take a rise" out of him. The result was that all the worst jobs seemed to fall upon the luckless Londoner. He was one of the "lucky lads" selected one night for a working party. While he was so engaged Jerry sent over a packet which was stopped by Smiler, and it was quickly apparent to him and to us that this was more than a Blighty one. As I knelt by his side to comfort him he softly whispered, "Say, mate, has Jerry knocked the blinkin' smile off?" "No," I replied, "it's still there." Then, with a strange light in his eyes, he said, "Won't the captain be darned wild when he hears about it?"--_P. Walters (late Cpl., Royal Fusiliers), 20 Church Street, Woolwich, S.E.18._ When In Greece...? On a Greek island overlooking the Dardanelles, where we were stationed in 1916, my pal Sid and I were one day walking along a road when we saw approaching us a poor-looking knock-kneed donkey. On its back, almost burying it, was a huge pile of brushwood, and on top of this sat a Greek, whilst in front walked an elderly woman, probably his wife, also with a load of twigs on her back. Sid's face was a study in astonishment and indignation. "Strewth!" he muttered to himself. To the Greek he said, "Hi, 'oo the dickens d'you fink you are--the Lord Mayor? Come down orf of there!"