my
gets a change to hospital clothing as soon as he enters the base hospital.
On taking a second look at the sign, I made out "Germ-Hun Exterminator."
So when Tommy gets his clothes out of "dock" (hospital), and grumbles at
the R. A. M. C. orderlies when he finds his collection of souvenirs
depleted, they promptly put the blame on the "Germ-Hun."

As soon as I was placed in an ambulance, a tag was fastened to my lapel
and I was ready for the road along with other lucky chaps. It seemed as if
we were hardly settled when we arrived at the railway station. An
ambulance train was waiting here for us, and before many minutes had
elapsed we found ourselves en route for Le Havre. We arrived here the same
night and were placed aboard the S.S. _Asturias_.

When we were about mid-channel, a torpedo from a German submarine just
cleared the bow of our ship by a few feet. Even a hospital ship is a
target for the missiles of the enemy.

We arrived next morning at Southampton without further occurrences of
moment.

Each patient was asked where he wished to be sent. It was natural that
each should give his home district. We were placed in rows in the large
shed on the wharf, and our destination marked on our tickets. We were now
ready for our next part of the journey.

Suddenly my attention was attracted by vigorous exclamations. From the
patient in the stretcher next to me I heard vociferous "bly'me-ing" in a
very strong cockney accent. I asked the disturber what he was making all
the row about.

"Bli' me," he said, "they've gawn an' gyve me a ticket to th' bloomink end
o' Scotland!"

"Is it a mistake?" I asked.

"Mistyke!" said he. "Is it a mistyke? Hit's a mistyke that tykes in th'
whole bloomink ge-hography of Britain."

He communed with himself a moment in eloquent but inelegant language. Then
he asked:

"Where've they ticketed you to, myte?"

I hadn't thought of looking at my ticket, but now I noted that I was
destined for "Chelsea, London, S. W." So he outlined a scheme to which I
readily agreed. We exchanged tickets.

I adopted his name "Bill Mortimer" of the Rifle Brigade and soon I was
making for "th' bloomink end o' Scotland," while he was en route for
Chelsea under his assumed name.

When I arrived in an Aberdeen Hospital, they were a good few days trying
to account for me, as my papers had naturally gone to Chelsea. Ultimately
they came to the conclusion that there must have been an error at
Southampton;