I rushed with a stretcher party to render help. The general and his staff officer were unconscious amid the wreckage. Feverishly we worked to remove the debris which pinned them down. Two of us caught the general beneath the shoulders, and one was raising his legs when to his horror one leg came away in his hand. When the general regained his senses, seeing our concern, he quickly reassured us. The leg turned out to be a wooden one! He had lost the original at Hill 60. The tension over, one of the stretcher-bearers, a Cockney from Mile End, whispered into my ear, "We can't take 'im to the 'orspital, sarge, he wants to go dahn to the Ordnance!"--_Sgt. T. C. Jones, M.S.M., 15 Bushey Mill Lane, Watford._ Dismal Jimmy's Prisoner Out of the ebb and flow, the mud and blood, the din and confusion of a two days' strafe on the Somme in September 1917 my particular chum, Private James X., otherwise known as "Dismal Jimmy," emerged with a German prisoner who was somewhat below the usual stature and considerably the worse for the wear and tear of his encounter with the Cockney soldier. "Jimmy," although obviously proud of his captive, was, as usual, "fed up" with the war, the strafe, and everything else. To make matters worse, on his way to the support trenches he was caught in the head by a sniper's bullet. His pet grievance, however, did not come from this particular misfortune, but from the fact that the prisoner had not taken advantage of the opportunity to "'Op it!" when the incident occurred. "Wot yer fink ov 'im, mate?" he queried. "Followed me all rahnd the blinkin' trenches, 'e did! Thinks I got a bit o' tripe on a skewer, maybe, th' dirty dog!" "Jimmy" muttered. Then he came under the orders of a Higher Command.--_H. J. R., 1 Central Buildings, Westminster, S.W.1._ That Creepy Feeling In the brick-fields at La Bassée, 1915, there was a pump about five yards from our front line which we dare not approach in daylight. At night it was equally dangerous as it squeaked and so drew the sniper's fire. We gave up trying to use it after a few of our fellows had been sniped in their attempts, until Nobby Clarke said _he_ would get the water, adding: "That blinkin' sniper hasn't my name on any of his ruddy bullets." After he had gone we heard the usual squeak of the pump, followed by the inevitable _ping!_ ... _ping!_ We waited. No Nobby returned. Two of us crawled out to where he lay to bring him in. "Strewth, Bill," he cried when my mate touched him, "you didn't 'arf put the blinkin' wind up me, _creepin' aht like that_!" There he lay, on his back, with a piece of rope tied to the handle of the pump. We always got our water after that.--_F. J. Pike (late 2nd Grenadier Guards), 4 Hilldrop Road, Bromley, Kent._ "Toot-Sweet," the Runner Scene: Before Combles in the front line. Position: Acute.