Читать книгу 500 of the Best Cockney War Stories - Various - Страница 27

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On July 1, 1916, I happened to be among those concerned in the attack on the German line in front of Serre, near Beaumont Hamel. Our onslaught at that point was not conspicuously successful, but we managed to establish ourselves temporarily in what had been the Boche front line, to the unconcealed indignation of the previous tenants.

During a short lull in the subsequent proceedings I saw one of my company—an elderly private whose melancholy countenance and lank black moustache will ever remain engraved on my memory—seated tranquilly on the battered fire-step, engrossed in a certain humorous journal.

Meeting my astonished eye, he observed in a tone of mild resentment: "This 'ere's a dud, sir. 'S not a joke in it—not what I calls a joke, anyway."

So saying, he rose, pocketed the paper, and proceeded placidly to get on with the war.—K. R. G. Browne, 6B Winchester Road, N.W.3.