It appeared that the battalion we were due to relieve had been surprised by a small party of the enemy seeking "information." During the mêlée in the trench a German "under-officer" had calmly walked over and picked up a Lewis gun which had been placed on a tripod on top of the trench some little distance from its usual emplacement. (This was done frequently when firing at night was necessary so as to avoid betraying the regular gun position.) A boyish-looking sentry of the battalion on the left jumped out of the trench and went after the Jerry who was on his way "home" with the gun in his arms. Placing his bayonet in dangerous proximity to the "under-officer's" back, the young Cockney exclaimed, "Hi! Where the 'ell are yer goin' wiv that gun? Just you put the 'coocumber' back on the 'barrer' and shove yer blinkin' 'ands up!" The "under-officer" lost his prize and his liberty, and I understand the young sentry received the M.M.--_R. McMuldroch (late 15th London Regt., Civil Service Rifles), 13 Meadway, Bush Hill Park, Enfield._ The Sergeant's Tears One afternoon on the Somme our battery received a severe strafe from 5·9's and tear-gas shells. There was no particular "stunt" on, so we took cover in a trench behind the guns. When the strafe had finished, we found our gun resting on one wheel, with sights and shield smashed by a direct hit. There was tear gas hanging about, too, and we all felt anything but cheerful. Myself and detachment were solemnly standing around looking at the smashed gun, and as I was wiping tears from my eyes, Smithy, our bright Walworth lad, said: "Don't cry, Sarg'nt, they're bahnd ter give us anuvver."--_E. Rutson (late Sergeant, R.F.A., 47th London Division), 43a Wardo Avenue, S.W.6._ "But yer carn't 'elp Laughin'" There were a bunch of us Cockneys in our platoon, and we had just taken over some supports. It being a quiet sector, we were mooning and scrounging around, some on the parapet, some in the trenches, and some at the rear. All at once a shower of whizz-bangs and gas shells came over; our platoon "sub." started yelling "Gas." We dived for the dug-outs. Eight of us tried to scramble through a narrow opening at once, and we landed in a wriggling mass on the floor. Some were kneeling and some were sitting, all with serious faces, until one fellow said: "Phew, it's 'ell of a war, but yer carn't 'elp laughin', can yer?"--_B. J. Berry (late 9th Norfolk Regt.), 11 Rosemont Avenue, N. Finchley, N.12._ "Only an Orphan" He came to the battalion about three weeks before going overseas, and fell straight into trouble. But his Cockney wit got him out of trouble as well as into it. He never received a parcel or letter, but still was always the life of our company. He never seemed to have a care. We had been in France about a fortnight when we were ordered to the front line and over the top. He was one of the first over, shouting "Where's the blighters." They brought him in riddled with bullets.