In surprise, I answered, "Why, the damage caused by the Zeps."

With a wink, he replied:

"There was no damage, we missed them again."

After several fruitless inquiries of the passersby, I decided to go on
my own in search of ruined buildings and scenes of destruction. I
boarded a bus which carried me through Tottenham Court Road.
Recruiting posters were everywhere. The one that impressed me most was
a life-size picture of Lord Kitchener with his anger pointing directly
at me, under the caption of "Your King and Country Need You." No
matter which way I turned, the accusing finger followed me. I was an
American, in mufti, and had a little American flag in the lapel of my
coat. I had no king, and my country had seen fit not to need me, but
still that pointing finger made me feel small and ill at ease. I got
off the bus to try to dissipate this feeling by mixing with the throng
of the sidewalks.

Presently I came to a recruiting office. Inside, sitting at a desk was
a lonely Tommy Atkins. I decided to interview him in regard to joining
the British Army. I opened the door. He looked up and greeted me with
"I s'y, myte, want to tyke on?"

I looked at him and answered, "Well, whatever that is, I'll take a
chance at it."

Without the aid of an interpreter, I found out that Tommy wanted to
know if I cared to join the British Army. He asked me: "Did you ever
hear of the Royal Fusiliers?" Well, in London you know. Yanks are