eef, and the cow died next
day. I was in 'is trench with a machine gun when 'e got 'is little bit.
A chunk out of an 'and grenade 'it 'im in the thigh, and 'e laughed like
'ell becos 'e'd got a 'cushy' wound. Why, 'e even said as 'ow 'e could
walk down to the dressing station, and we envied 'im like 'ell and
thought it was only a flesh wound. I got 'it the next day and went to
the same 'orspital where 'e was. 'E'd 'ad 'is thigh bone smashed all to
bits, and they'd jest taken 'is leg off when I saw 'im. 'E was weak as a
kid and chirpy as a sparrer, and only cursin' becos 'e was out of things
for the rest of the war. I never 'eard what 'appened to 'im, but the
nurse told me as 'ow they was afraid 'e wouldn't recover becos of
emmyridge, or something with a name like that. And 'e wasn't more nor
twenty-one years old neither, pore bloke."

"But you won't beat the Medical Orficer anywhere," said Jones, one of
the stretcher-bearers who was on duty in the trenches. "'E don't 'ave to
fight, but you should see 'im when things is busy up 'ere. Coat off an'
sleeves up, workin' for 'ours on end till any man what wasn't an 'orse
would drop dead. 'E's 'ard on the shirkers and scrimshankers--e's the
sort of bloke what would give you a dose o' castor oil for earache or
frost-bitten feet, but 'e's like a mother with the wounded. I've seen
'im, too, goin' along the cutting when the whizz-bangs was burstin' all
the way down it, carryin' some wounded fellow in 'is arms as calmly as
if 'e were an ole girl carryin' a parcel along Regent Street. And then,"
said Jones, as he named the greatest point in the M.O.'s favour, "'e's
the best forward on a wet day as ever I seed."

Just at that moment a voice sounded from farther up the trench.
"Simpson," it said, "where the deuce is my toothbrush?"

"Jest comin', sir. I've got 'un," answered "Pongo" Simpson as he
produced a greasy-looking toothbrush from his pocket. "'Ere, give us
that canteen of 'ot water," he said quietly, "I used 'is toothbrush to
grease 'is boots with yesterday--didn't think 'e'd miss it, for you
don't come out 'ere to wash your teeth. They 'ave got funny ways, these
'ere orficers. 'Owever," he continued as he wiped the brush dry on the
sleeve of his tunic, "what the eye don't see, the 'eart don't grieve
over. 'E'll only think as 'ow it's the water what's greasy."

"Simpson," came the voice from farther along the trench, a moment or so
later, "this is the greasiest water I've e