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I immediately quit "chucking my weight about" from that time on. Just before reaching reserve billets we were marching along, laughing, and singing one of Tommy's trench ditties "I want to go home, I want to go home, I don't want to go to the trenches no more Where sausages and whizz-bangs are galore.

Seventy-five m.m. whizz-bangs shrieked low over the surface, or burst with shattering crashes which shook down avalanches of earth on the heads of the troopers as they sat, half-asleep, against the dug-out walls. Then the machine-guns joined in the din, and rattled and roared in spiteful bursts, now rising into a furious storm, now lulling slightly.

I have a splendid bayonet and a belt with Kaiser Bill's arms on it but you can't forward these things from France. The Germans swear that they're not using bayonets with saw-edges, but you can buy them for five francs from the Tommies ones they've taken from the prisoners or else picked up. You needn't be nervous about me. I'm a great little dodger of whizz-bangs.

Some of our men were standing looking aghast at me, and wondering what the devil it was that had made such a sudden dive into their midst. The look on their faces was just too funny for words; I had to roar with laughter, and, realising that I was safe, they also joined in. But I was not out of the wood yet, for brother Fritz immediately turned "whizz-bangs" on to us.