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"Bit of Bill," said the leading man, putting in a leg.
"Another bit of Bill," he said, unearthing a hand.
"Bill's ugly mug," he said at a later stage in the operations, when a
head was found.
As told afterward, that little episode in the trenches seemed
immensely comic. Generals chuckled over it. Chaplains treasured it.
How we used to guffaw at the answer of the cockney soldier who met a
German soldier with his hands up, crying: "Kamerad! Kamerad! Mercy!"
"Not so much of your 'Mercy, Kamerad,'" said the cockney. "'And us
over your bloody ticker!"
It was the man's watch he wanted, without sentiment.
One tale was most popular, most mirth-arousing in the early days of
the war.
"Where's your prisoner?" asked an Intelligence officer waiting to
receive a German sent down from the trenches under escort of an honest
corporal.
"I lost him on the way, sir," said the corporal.
"Lost him?"
The corporal was embarrassed.
"Very sorry, sir. My feelings overcame me, sir.


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