[Illustration: "Fancy a bloke my age playin' 'ide an' seek"] After one hurried "pot" at the plane, and as we dived for the other side, my companion gasped: "Lumme! Fancy a bloke my age a-playin' 'ide an' seek!"--_H. G. E. Woods, "The Willows," Bridge Street, Maidenhead._ The Altruist One afternoon in July 1917 our battalion was lying by a roadside on the Ypres front waiting for night to fall so that we could proceed to the front line trenches. "Smiffy" was in the bombing section of his platoon and had a bag of Mills grenades to carry. Fritz began to get busy, and soon we had shrapnel bursting overhead. "Smiffy" immediately spread his body over his bag of bombs like a hen over a clutch of eggs. "What the 'ell are you sprawling over them bombs for?" asked the sergeant. "Well," replied Smiffy, "it's like this 'ere, sergeant. I wouldn't mind a little Blighty one meself, but I'd jest 'ate for any of these bombs ter get wounded while I'm wiv 'em."--_T. E. M. (late London Regt.), Colliers Wood, S.W.19._ "Minnie's Stepped on my Toe!" We were lying in front of Bapaume in August 1918 awaiting reinforcements. They came from Doullens, and among them was a Cockney straight from England. He greeted our sergeant with the words, "Wot time does the dance start?" The sergeant, an old-timer, replied, "The dance starts right now." So over the top we went, but had not gone far when the Cockney was bowled over by a piece from a minnenwerfer, which took half of one foot away. I was rendering first aid when the sergeant came along. He looked down and said, "Hello, my lad, soon got tired of the dance, eh?" The little Cockney looked up and despite his pain he smiled and said, "On wiv the dance, sergeant! I'm sitting this one aht, fer Minnie has stepped on my toe."--_E. C. Hobbs (late 1st Royal Marine Battn.), 103 Moore Park Road, Fulham, S.W._ In the Dim Dawn Jerry had made a surprise raid on our trenches one morning just as it was getting light. He got very much the worst of it, but when everything was over Cockney Simmonds was missing. We hunted everywhere, but couldn't find him. Suddenly we saw him approaching with a hefty looking German whom he had evidently taken prisoner. "Where did you get him from, Simmonds?" we asked. "Well, d'yer see that shell-'ole over there 'alf full o' water?" "Yes," we said, all craning our necks to look. "Well, this 'ere Fritz didn't."--_L. Digby (12th East Surreys), 10 Windsor Road, Holloway, N.7._ Beau Brummell's Puttees March 1918. Just before the big German offensive. One night I was out with a reconnoitring patrol in "No Man's Land." We had good reason to believe that Jerry also had a patrol in the near vicinity.