it's hats off to him now! But d'you think the civvies or the papers
admit it? No bloody fear! The other day I saw a picture of the grenades
we use--I think it was in the _Graphic_ or one of these illustrated
rags. It was headed, 'Ferreting Fritz out of his Funk Holes.' I know the
man who wrote that hasn't been in the trenches himself! He's never seen
a lot of Germans lying dead round their machine-gun after fighting to
the last, as I have! He hasn't even seen a shell burst, not he! I bet he
slipped into _his_ funk hole, though, when there was an air-raid on!
Dirty, filthy swine! When I was home on leave I got so wild at the way
the civvies talked that I gave them a piece of my mind and told them a
thing or two. And one of them called me a pro-German! He, of course, was
a patriot. He was making money out of the war and wanted a fight to a
finish. Well, I got my rag out properly and I caught him by the throat
and shook him till he was blue in the face. It was in the street too,
and a lot of people standing about. They didn't say anything more after
that, though! I felt I'd done a good deed. I was really glad to feel I'd
clutched his windpipe with all my strength. I expect he still wears the
marks of my finger-nails, although it happened months ago...."

"'Ere, 'ere! That's the stuff to give 'em! I reckon Fritz is a bloody
good sport. We ought ter shake 'ands an' make peace now. Peace at any
price, that's what I say.... I tell yer a thing what 'appened when I was
in the line. We 'ad a little dog wi' us an' one night she must 'a'
strayed inter Fritz's trenches. The next mornin' she came back wi' a
card tied round 'er neck an' on the card it 'ad: 'To our comrades in
misfortune--What about Peace.' I reckon that was a jolly decent thing
ter say. Jerry wants ter get 'ome to 'is missis an' kiddies just as much
as what we do!"

"Next three men," shouted the theatre orderly.