words there was a certain Battalion renowned for the vigour of its
language. And in that Battalion Private Thompson held a reputation
which was the envy of all. Not only had he a more varied stock of
expletives than anyone else, but he seemed to possess a unique gift
for welding them into new and wonderful combinations to meet each
fresh situation. Moreover he had an insistent manner of delivering
them which alone was sufficient to place him in a class by himself. It
was not long before many of his friends gave up trying altogether and
let Private Thompson do it all for them. It is even rumoured that on
occasions men in distant parts of the line would send for him so that
he might come and give adequate expression to feelings which they felt
to be beyond their range.

To show you the extent of his fame, it is only necessary to mention
that Lieutenant ---- composed an ode all about Private Thompson and
got it published in _Camouflage_, the trench gazette of the Nth
Division. Two of the verses went, as far as I can remember, something
like this:--

As Private Thompson used to say,
He couldn't stand the War;
He cursed about it every day
And every night he swore;
And, while a sense of discipline
Carried him on through thick and thin,
The mud, the shells, the cold, the din
Annoyed him more and more.

The words with which we others cursed
Seemed mild and harmless quips