The officer was too heavy, so Bill put him gently on the ground saying, "Sorry, sir, I'll 'ave ter call a taxi." Bill then ran 500 yards under heavy machine-gun fire to where the armoured cars were under cover. He brought one out, and thereby saved the officer's life. After the incident, Bill's attention was drawn to a bullet hole in his pith helmet. "Blimey," he said, "what a shot! If he 'adn't a missed me, 'e'd a 'it me." Bill was awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal.--_W. B. Higgins, D.C.M. (late Corpl. Mounted Infantry), 46 Stanley Road, Ilford._ Attack in "Birthday Clothes" We came out of the line on the night of June 14-15, 1917, to "bivvies" at Mory, after a hot time from both Fritz and weather at Bullecourt. When dawn broke we were astonished and delighted to see a "bath." Whilst we were in the line our Pioneers had a brain wave, dug a hole in the ground, lined it with a tarpaulin sheet, and filled it with water. As our last bath was at Achiet-le-Petit six weeks before, there was a tremendous crowd waiting "mit nodings on," because there was "standing room only" for about twenty in the bath. Whilst ablutions were in progress an aeroplane was heard, but no notice was taken because it was flying so low--"one of ours" everybody thought. When it came nearer there was a shout, "Strewth, it's a Jerry plane." Baths were "off" for the moment and there was a stampede to the "bivvies" for rifles. It was the funniest thing in the world to see fellows running about in their "birthday suits" plus only tin hats, taking pot shots at the aeroplane. Even Fritz seemed surprised, because it was some moments before he replied with his machine gun. We watched him fly away back to his own lines and a voice broke the silence with, "Blinkin' fools to put on our tin 'ats. Uvverwise 'ole Fritz wouldn't a known but what we might be Germans." I often wonder if any other battalion had the "honour" of "attacking the enemy" clad only in tin hats.--_G. M. Rampton (late 12th London Regt., "Rangers"), 43 Cromwell Road, Winchester._ His Good-bye to the Q.M. Scene, Ypres, May 1915. The battalion to which I belonged had been heavily shelled for many hours, and among the casualties was "Topper" Brown, a Cockney, who was always in trouble for losing items of his kit. Taken to the dressing station to have a badly shattered foot amputated, he recovered consciousness to find the C.Q.M.S. standing by the stretcher on which he lay. The C.Q.M.S., not knowing the extent of Brown's injury, inquired, "What's the trouble, Brown?" In a weak voice the Cockney replied, "Lost one boot and one sock again, Quarter."--_E. E. Daniels (late K.R.R.), 178 Caledonian Road, N.1._ From Bow and Harrow We were in the line at Neuville St. Vaast in 1916. A raid had just been carried out. In the party were two inseparable chums, one from Bow and one from Harrow. (Of course they were known as Bow and Arrow.)