For two whole days the rain came down on us in bucketfuls. It was like having the sea bottom turned upwards and the contents poured over us. At one point tents were floating around like yachts on the lake at the Welsh Harp. Those who had been foolish enough to get on the wrong side of their clothes the night before had the devil’s own job to find them in the morning. Swimming after your things when you wake up isn’t an aid to quick dressing: _A Private of the Grenadiers_. Asked for Him A wounded soldier I picked up the other day told me an amusing tale, although he was severely hurt. His regiment was capturing some Germans, and they were being disarmed, when this chap, in asking a German for his rifle, was bayoneted twice by the German and fell down unconscious. When he came round he said to his pals, “Where is the blighter?” “Never mind, Mick, don’t worry,” replied his pals; “we have just buried him”: _Sergt. Hughes, Army Medical Corps_. Mighty Particular There was a chap of the Grenadier Guards who was always mighty particular about his appearance, and persisted in wearing a tie all the time, whereas most of us reduce our needs to the simplest possible. One day, under heavy rifle fire, he was seen to be in a frightful fluster. “Are you hit?” he was asked. “No,” he said. “What is it, then?” “This ---- tie is not straight,” he replied, and proceeded to adjust it under fire: _Corpl. C. Hamer, Coldstream Guards_. Swear Words One night when we were toiling along like to drop with fatigue, we ran right into a big party of horsemen posted near a wood. We thought they were Germans, for we could not make out the colour of the uniforms or anything else, until we heard someone sing out, “Where the hell do you think you’re going to?” Then we knew they were friends, and I don’t think I was ever so glad to hear a real good English swear: _A Driver of the Royal Artillery_. Maids of All Work Our Allies were greatly “taken” with the Highlanders, and many of them expressed surprise at the kindly behaviour and hearty manner of the Scotsmen. Apparently they thought the “kilties” were of a rather barbaric nature. Two Highlanders were billeted with an old French lady. Her strange lodgers gave the landlady no end of entertainment. They insisted on washing the dishes and doing all the housework, and when finished with these duties went the length of delving the garden: _Private D. Goldie_. Step Outside In camp one night one of the German prisoners was chock-full of peace-at-any-price cant, and talked a lot about all men being brothers. This didn’t please Terry Monahan, an Irish private of the Liverpool Regiment, and, in a towering rage, he turned on the German: “You dirty, church-going, altar-defiling, priest-murdering German devil,” he cried, “ye’re no brother of mine, and by the holy saints if ye’ll only step outside for wan minit it’s me will knock all the nonsense out of yer ugly head”: _A Sergeant of the York and Lancaster Regiment_.