When I asked if I could do anything for him, he said: "Are there many hurt?" "Not many," I replied. "Thank Heaven for that," he replied. "Nobody 'll worry over me. I'm only a blinkin' orphan."--_W. Blundell (late N.C.O., 2nd East Surreys), Cranworth Gardens, S.W.9._ Joking at the Last It was after the attack by the 2nd Londons on the village of Aubigny au Bac. I was hit by shell splinters, and whilst I was looking for someone to dress my wounds I came across one of the lads lying by the roadside mortally wounded. As I bent over him to give him a drink he noticed my blood-streaked face and gasped: "Crikey! Your barber was blinkin' clumsy this morning." So passed a gallant 2nd London man.--_E. C. Easts (M.M.), Eliot Place, Blackheath, S.E.3._ Everybody's War During the general advance on the Somme in August 1918 our platoon became isolated from the rest of the company. We had been under heavy shell-fire for about three hours, and when at last things seemed to have quietened down, a German plane came over. We immediately jumped for cover and were concealed from view. The plane had only circled round a couple of times when a Cockney private, unable to resist the temptation any longer, jumped up and had a pot at it. He had fired three rounds when the N.C.O. pulled him down and called him a fool for giving away our position. The Cockney turned round and replied, "Blimey, ain't I in this blinkin' war as well as 'im?"--_E. Purcell (late 9th Royal Fusiliers), 4 Lyndhurst Grove, Peckham, S.E.15._ Orders is Orders When I was with the 6th Dorsets at Hooge, a party of us under a Cockney lance-jack were sent down the Menin Road to draw rations. It seemed as though the Germans knew we were waiting at the corner, for they were dropping shells all around us. After a while a voice in the darkness cried: "Don't stay there, you chaps; that's Hell Fire Corner!" "Can't 'elp it, guv'nor," replied our lance-jack. "'Ell Fire Corner or 'Eaven's Delight, we gotta stop 'ere till our rations comes up."--_H. W. Butler (late 6th Dorsets), 2 Flint Cottages, Stone, Kent._ Leaving the Picture As we were going "over" at Passchendaele a big one dropped just behind our company runner and myself. Our runner gave a shout and stumbling on a little way, with his hand on his side, said: "Every picture tells a story"--and went down. I just stopped to look at him, and I am sorry to say his war had finished. He came from Bow.--_G. Hayward (late Rifle Brigade), Montague Street, W.C.1._ Ginger's Gun Stopped I was in a Lewis gun section, and our sergeant got on our nerves while we were learning the gun by always drumming in our ears about the different stoppages of the gun when in action. My mate, Ginger Bryant, who lived at Stepney, could never remember the stops, and our sergeant was always rousing poor old Ginger.