Periodicals Books

FORCE OF HABIT. The fact that George had been eighteen months in Gallipoli, Egypt and France, without leave home till now, should have warned me. As it was I merely found myself gasping "Shell-shock!" We were walking in a crowded thoroughfare, and George was giving all the officers he met the cheeriest of "Good mornings." It took people in two ways. Those on leave, blushing to think... more...

PURPLE PATCHES FROM LORD YORICK'S GREAT BOOK. (Special Review.) Lord Yorick's Reminiscences, just published by the house of Hussell, abound in genial anecdote, in which the "personal note" is lightly and gracefully struck, in welcome contrast to the stodgy political memoirs with which we have been surfeited of late. We append some extracts, culled at random from these jocund pages:—... more...

THE CARP AT MIRAMEL. [In the following article all actual names, personal, geographical and regimental, have been duly camouflaged.] The carp that live in the moat of the Château de Miramel (in the zone of the armies in France) are of an age and ugliness incredible and of a superlative cynicism. One of them—local tradition pointed to a one-eyed old reprobate with a yellow face—is the richer these... more...

PRATT'S TOURS OF THE FRONT. THE LAST WORD IN SENSATION. By special arrangement Pratt's are able to offer their patrons unique opportunities of witnessing the stirring events of the Great Struggle. Don't miss it; you may never see another War. Come and see Tommy at work and play. Come and be shelled—a genuine thrill! Same as during London's Air-raids, but less danger. At the... more...

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THE LITERARY ADVISER. No, he does not appear in the Gazette. War establishments know him not and his appointment throws no additional labour upon the staff of Messrs. COX AND CO. Unofficially he is known as O.C. Split Infinitives. His duties are to see that the standard of literary excellence, which makes the correspondence of the Corps a pleasure to receive, is maintained at the high level set by the... more...

THE SUGAR FIEND. "I will have a cup of tea," I said to the waitress, "China if possible; and please don't forget the sugar." "Yes, and what will you eat with I it?" she asked. "What you please," I replied; "it is all horrible." I do not take kindly to war-time teas. My idea of a tea is several cups of the best China, with three large lumps of sugar in each,... more...

THE GREAT MAN. What am I doing, Dickie? Well, I'll tell you. I'm one of those subalterns you hear of sometimes. You know the kind of things they do? They look after their men and ask themselves every day in the line (as per printed instructions), "Am I offensive enough?" In trenches they are ever to the fore, bombing, patrolling, raiding, wiring and inspecting gas helmets.... more...

NIGHTMARES. II. OF A T.B.D. CAPTAIN, WHO DREAMS THAT HE HAS FOUND HIS LOG BOOK MADE UP BY MR. PH*L*P G*BBS. Time:—7.30 A.M.—Once more we set out on our never-ending mission, our ceaseless vigil of the seas. The ruddy weather-stained coxswain swung the wheel this way and that—his eyes were of the blue that only the sea can give—in obedience to, or rather in accord with, the curt, mystic,... more...

HOW TO CURE THE BOSCH. "Yes, I seen a good bit o' the Bosch, one way and another, before he got me in the leg," said Corporal Digweed. "Eighteen months I had with 'im spiteful, and four months with 'im tame. Meaning by that four months guarding German prisoners." "And what do you think of him at the end of it?" I asked. Digweed leant back with a heavily judicial... more...