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Look at the way they treat yer like bleed'n' pigs. There ain't no justice anywhere. There's strong an' 'ealthy fellers at the Base just enjoyin' theirselves. Then there's the 'eads what 'as servants to wait on 'em d'yer think French or Duggie 'Aig ever 'as shells burstin' round 'em?
I'd fight it out meself, like a man! That's me! That's 'ow I'd do it! Act like a bleed'n' sport, I would tell yer straight! Gorblimy draggin' us out 'ere inter this bloody misery it makes me blood boil...." This fulmination was interrupted by shouts of "Shut up" and "'Old yer jaw" and "Put a sock in it" and "Let's get a bit o' sleep," but there was no chance of further sleep.
Three men were lying up against a garden wall. We asked them for news. They could not tell us much, except that the Germans were still advancing. "We was at Dickebusch when 'e started slingin' stuff over gorblimy, 'e don't 'alf wallop yer umpteen of our mates got bleed'n' well biffed. We cleared out afore it got too 'ot."
"Yer've got some bleed'n' 'opes do anythink, 'e would. Didn't yer see it in the papers? 'E bombed a French C.C.S. at Verd'n an' knocked out umpteen wounded." "I bet that's all bloody lies yer can't believe nothin' what's in the papers." "Can't yer! If yer don't it's because yer don't want ter. I believe yer a bleed'n' Fritz yerself, always stickin' up fer the bastard.
'E give 'isself up an' I takes 'im along I makes 'im walk in front o' me yer can't take no risks wi' them bastards. 'E turns rahnd an' says ter me in English 'e must 'a' bin a clurk or a scholard 'e says, sarcastic like, 'I s'pose yer think yer goin' ter win the war! I gets me rag out an' tells 'im ter mind 'is own bleed'n' business. I tells 'im if I catch 'im lookin' rahnd agin I'll kill 'im!
One of the men pushed his stick obliquely into the ground and levered up the putrefying corpse. The other turned the pockets inside out. A few soiled and mouldy bits of paper came to light, but nothing of any value. "Just our bastard bleed'n' luck! Let's see if we can't find a Fritz or a Tommy!"
The first pair of men refused to take the sleeper held in readiness for them, protesting that there were others who ought to have gone before, and the others refused to work until the first two had taken their turn. A deadlock ensued and then a Sergeant came up with "What's the matter now? This ain't a bleed'n' picnic! Don't yer know there's a war on? Yer like a lot o' school kids.
What's the use o' lettin' good stuff go west? A dead un can't do nothin' wi' watches an' rings an' five-franc notes! Gorblimy, 'ave a bit o' sense! It's allus your class o' blokes what makes a bleed'n' fuss!" Having thus vindicated their rights, the two men turned away in order to continue their search for the legitimate spoils of war.
And that started the argument. "I reckon one man's as good as another." "I reckon a Tommy's worth a dozen Fritzes. The bleeders ought ter be wiped orf the face o' the bleed'n' earth. I see 'em do a thing or two, I tell yer me an' my mate was in the line down Plugstreet way when they crucified a Canadian. I see the tree what they did it on wi' me own eyes dirty lot o' swine!" "Bloody lies!
Hyndman could still hear him, so he walked up to him and shouted, 'What the bloody 'ell's the matter wi' yer? As cool as you like old Peter replied, 'Cacoethes loquendi. Of course Hyndman hadn't the remotest idea what that meant and said, 'None o' yer bleed'n' impudence, else I'll land yer inter trouble. He didn't run him though. "I tell you, I'm jolly glad to be away from headquarters.
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