that the regiment concerned is
an English one--entirely and emphatically English, and indeed almost
entirely East End Cockney.

It is true that the British Army on active service has a sense of
humour peculiarly its own, and respectable civilians have been known,
when jests were retailed with the greatest gusto by soldier raconteurs,
to shudder and fail utterly to understand that there could be any
humour in a tale so mixed up with the grim and ghastly business of
killing and being killed.

A biggish battle had died out about a week before in the series of
spasmodic struggles of diminishing fury that have characterised most of
the battles on the Western Front, when the Tower Bridge Foot found
themselves in occupation of a portion of the forward line which was
only separated from the German trench by a distance varying from forty
to one hundred yards. Such close proximity usually results in an
interchange of compliments between the two sides, either by speech, or
by medium of a board with messages written on it--the board being
reserved usually for the strokes of wit most likely to sting, and
therefore best worth conveying to the greatest possible number of the
enemy.

The 'Towers' were hardly installed in their new position when a voice
came from the German parapet, 'Hello, Tower Bridge Foot! Pleased to
meet you again.'

The Englishmen were too accustomed to it to be surprised by this
uncannily prompt recognition by the enemy of a newly relieving regiment
of which they had not seen so much as a cap top.

'Hullo, Boshy,' retorted one of the Towers. 'You're makin' a mistake
this time. We ain't the Tower Bridges. We're the Kamchatka
'Ighlanders.'

'An' you're a liar if you says you're pleased to meet us again,' put in
another. 'If you've met us afore I lay you was too dash sorry for it
to want to meet us again.'

'Oh, we know who you are all right,' replied the voice. 'And we know
you've just relieved the Fifth Blankshires; and what's more, we know
who's going to relieve you, and when.'

''E knows a bloomin' heap,' said a Tower Bridge private disgustedly;
'an' wot's more, I believe 'e does know it.' Then, raising his voice,
he asked, 'Do you know when we're comin' to take some more of them
trenches o' yours?'

This was felt by the listening Towers to be a master-stroke,
remembering that the British had taken and held several trenches a week
before, but the reply rather took the wind out of their sails