"Now comes the sequel. They were taken to the Quartermaster on the following morning, and, so it is said, he refused to replace them _on the ground that the holes were not the result of fair wear and tear_!..." * * * * * Two gentlemen rankers are introduced here. "After some months of hard roughing it, two of the Battalion cooks decided to apply, modestly, for commissions. So they duly appeared before the Colonel. But the summons to attend did not give them time in which to get out of their cooking rig, and the sergeant paraded them in their old overalls. "'Hem. Where were you educated?' asked the Colonel of one man. "'Rugby and Oxford,' was the reply. "'And what were you in private life?' asked the Colonel, turning to the other. "'A painter.' "'A painter?' queried the Colonel. "'Yes, sir. I have exhibited at the Royal Academy....'" * * * * * Many Germans left London when the war started, to fight against us. This is one of them, turned up as a prisoner. "We were up the line one day when a patrol brought in a Hun prisoner. Of course we wanted information, for we were expecting an attack of some sort that very night. So we hauled our man up before the C.O. and started asking him questions. We tried him in German, and got no reply. We tried French with him, and it had no result. Then, seeing he was eyeing a water-bottle eagerly, I suddenly thought he might be thirsty. "'Ask him if he would like a drink,' I suggested. "'I should,' came the reply, in quite as good English as I could have spoken myself. Naturally I was surprised, and I asked him where he had learnt his English. "'In London, sir,' was the rejoinder. 'I worked as a barber close to Holborn for years.' "We gave him a little drink of whisky, and he told us there would be no attack that night. But we took no chances. A guard, with fixed bayonet, was placed over him, and he was told in English that he would be the first to get his medicine if he had played us false. "He had not, however. No attack was made, and he was sent back behind the lines to the 'cage' next day...." * * * * * Another. Overheard in the ranks on the march up the Cambrai Road in a snow-storm to take over at Bourlon Wood. "Italy!" said the Doc. "It looks more like being _another_ b---- Wood!" +-----------------------------------------------------+ | EXPERIENCES AS A PRISONER OF WAR--EXTRACTS FROM | | THE DIARY KEPT BY "MR. BROOKS, THE SCHOOLMASTER" | +-----------------------------------------------------+ EXPERIENCES AS A PRISONER OF WAR--EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY KEPT BY "MR. BROOKS, THE SCHOOLMASTER" "Reported missing." Many poignant memories attach to such a bald announcement as this. Dead--probably a prisoner of war--perhaps. And there have been those who would have preferred, had they had the chance, of a death under the open sky to imprisonment under the Hun.