A brand-new officer came around the trench, saw the damage, and asked: "Whatever caused this mess?" Without the slightest suspicion of a smile a Cockney private answered: "An explosive bullet, sir!"--_C. T. Coates, 46 Hillingdon Street, London, S.E.17._ [Illustration: "... an explosive bullet, sir!"] The Cockney and the Cop During the final push near Cambrai Jerry had just been driven from a very elaborate observation post--a steel-constructed tower. Of course, we soon occupied it to enable us to see Jerry's hasty retreat. No sooner had we got settled when, crash, Jerry had a battery of pipsqueaks trained on us, firing gas shells. A direct hit brought the building down. By the time we had sorted ourselves out our eyes began to grow dim, and soon we were temporarily blind. So we took each other's hands, an ex-policeman leading. After a few moments a Cockney friend chimed out, "Say, Cop, do you think you can find the lock-up now, or had you better blow your whistle?"--_H. Rainford (late R.F.A.), 219 The Grove, Hammersmith, W.6._ In the Drorin' Room It was on "W" Beach, Gallipoli, some months after the historic landing. It was fairly safe to picnic here, but for the attentions of "Beachy Bill," a big Turkish gun. I was with six other R.F.A. details in a dug-out which was labelled, or rather libelled, "The Ritz." "Smiler" Smith gave it that name, and always referred to this verminous hovel in terms of respect. Chalked notices such as "Wait for the Lift," "Card Room," "Buffet," were his work. A dull thud in the distance--the familiar scream--and _plomp_ came one from "Bill," a few yards from the Ritz. Only "Smiler" was really hurt. He received a piece of shell on his arm. As they carried him away, he called faintly for his tobacco tin. "Where did you leave it, 'Smiler'?" "In the drorin' room on the grand pianner," said "Smiler" faintly.--_Gunner W. (late 29th Division, R.F.A.)._ Getting His Goat Sandy was one of those whom nature seemed to have intended for a girl. Sandy by colour, pale and small of features, and without the sparkling wit of his Cockney comrades, he was the butt of many a joke. One dark and dirty night we trailed out of the line at Vermelles and were billeted in a barn. The farmhouse still sheltered its owner and the remainder of his live-stock, including a goat in a small shed. "Happy" Day, having discovered the goat, called out, "Hi, Sandy! There's some Maconochie rations in that 'ere shed. Fetch 'em in, mate." Off went Sandy, to return hastily with a face whiter than usual, and saying in his high treble: "'Appy, I can't fetch them. There's two awful eyes in that shed." Subsequently Jerry practically obliterated the farm, and when we returned to the line "Happy" Day appropriated the goat as a mascot. We had only been in the line a few hours when we had the worst bombardment I remember. Sandy and the goat seemed kindred spirits in their misery and terror.