Thus they got their job of work done, Cleared the wood of Johnny Bulgar, Picked up all he’d left behind him, Even to his bits of breakfast, And beheld with satisfaction (Crumps were getting rather busy) Three red lights go soaring upwards, Signal for them all to hop it. Then without unseemly hurry, Turkish cigarette in one hand And a biscuit in the other, Having passed his irksome rifle On to Woggs the ever-suffering, Tiadatha led his party Back across the open country, Led them back across the river While the zealous German gunners Sprinkled all the plain with shrapnel, Heaved a pious thanks to get them Back into the lines of safety. Back in safety with their tails up, Spent a pleasant twenty minutes Watching prisoner birds arriving, Dribbling back in pairs and bunches. One especially he noticed, Tunic destitute of buttons As a ration joint of suet (Gone as souvenirs to Dudshire), Who yet clutched a set of buttons, Set of universal buttons, Given to him as exchanges By his cheerful Dudshire captors. Pockets bulging fat with Woodbines, Woodbines that in Balkan trenches Are as scarce as lumps of sugar On an English breakfast table, Proof of Tommy’s pleasant manners Towards the cove he’d tried to scupper, Done his very best to scupper Early that November morning. Then my gleeful Tiadatha Bade Woggs go and fetch his Kodak, Photographed the Bulgar prisoner, Took him with the Sergeant-Major And without the Sergeant-Major, Cheered him up and pinched his cap badge As a souvenir for Phyllis, Gave him half a tin of bully. Then he made a second breakfast, Made a mighty second breakfast, Strolled into his little dug-out That he almost said good-bye to When he left it in the morning, Bathed and got the grime of war off, Laid him down and slept till evening As befitted a world’s worker. CHESTER, _July 1918_. CHAPTER XVII LEAVE TO ENGLAND On a certain winter’s morning, Early on in 1918, Tiadatha had the tidings Sudden as a tropic sunrise, Unbelievable as winning Something in a comic raffle, That he’d got his leave to England; And although the snow was falling On that Balkan winter’s morning, All the world seemed full of sunshine, All the world seemed bright and golden, And he felt as effervescing As a fizzing glass of bubbly, Felt as though a lovely fairy, Ever cold and stony-hearted, Finally had come and kissed him.