We were going up a road called "Queen's Hollow." Jerry was enfilading us on both sides, and a rare bombing fight was going on at the farther end of the Hollow--seventy or a hundred yards in front of us. We were expecting to feel the smack of a bullet any moment, and there was a terrible screeching and bursting of shells, with a few "Minnies" thrown in. We were in a fine pickle, and I had just about had enough when my pal (a lad from "The Smoke") nearly put me on my back by stopping suddenly. "I don't like this, Bomb," he said. "What's wrong with you? Get on," I replied, "or we'll all be blown sky high." "Oh, all right," he said, "but I wish I'd brought me mouf orgin. I could then have livened fings up a bit."--_"Bombardier" (R.A.), late T.M.B., 7th Division._ Water-cooled There must be at least six men still alive who remember a certain affair at Kemmel. During the latter part of April 1918 our machine gunners had been having a bad time, and one old Cockney sergeant found himself and his party isolated miles in front of our line. The cool way in which he gave orders, as he told his men to make their way back--lying down for a bit, then making a run for another shelter--would have been humorous if conditions had not been so terrifying. He himself kept his gun working to protect their retreat, and when he saw they had reached a place of safety he picked up his gun and rejoined them unhurt. One of his men, describing the action afterwards, said, "Carried his gun three miles--wouldn't part with it--and the first thing he did when he was able to settle down quietly was to start cleaning the blessed thing!"--_H. R. Tanner, "Romsdal," Newton Ferrers, S. Devon._ Top-hatted Piper of Mons During the retreat from Mons it was a case of "going while the going was good" until called upon to make a stand to harass the enemy's advance. After the stand at Le Cateau, bad and blistered feet caused many to stop by the wayside. Among these, in passing with my little squad, I noticed a piper belonging to a Scottish regiment sitting with his blistered feet exposed and his pipes lying beside him. Staff officers were continually riding back and urging the parties of stragglers to make an effort to push on before they were overtaken. In the late afternoon of this same day, having myself come up with my unit, I was resting on the roadside when I heard the skirl of bagpipes. Before long there came into sight, marching with a fair swing, too, as motley a throng as one ever saw in the King's uniform. Headed by a staff officer were about 150 men of all regiments with that same piper, hatless and with one stocking, in front.