500 of the Best Cockney War Stories

Whale, who never had the wind up, was shifting his position and turning from one side to the other.

"What's the matter?" I asked my chum. "Can't you sleep?"

"Sleep! 'Ow the 'ell can a bloke sleep with that infernal drip-drip-drip goin' on?" —P. T. Hughes (late 21st London Regiment, 47th Division), 12 Shalimar Gardens, Acton, W.

"A Blinkin' Vanity Box"

After the terrific upheaval of June 7, 1917, my brigade (the 111th) held the line beyond Wytschaete Ridge for some weeks. While my company was in support one day my corporal and I managed to scrounge into a pill-box away from the awful mud. We could not escape the water because the explosion of the mines on June 7 had cracked the foundation of our retreat and water was nearly two feet deep on the floor.

Just before dusk on this rainy July evening I was shaving before a metal mirror in the top bunk in the pill-box, while the corporal washed in a mess-tin in the bunk below. Just then Jerry started a severe strafe and a much-muddied runner of the 13th Royal Fusiliers appeared in the unscreened doorway.

"Come in and shelter, old man," I said. So he stepped on to an ammunition box that just failed to keep his feet clear of the water.

He had watched our ablutions in silence for a minute or so, when a shell burst almost in the doorway and flung him into the water below our bunks, where he sat with his right arm red and rent, sagging at his side.

"Call this a shelter?" he said. "Blimey, it's a blinkin' vanity box!" —Sgt., 10th R.F., East Sheen, S.W.14.

Playing at Statues

We were making our way to a detached post just on the left of Vimy, and Jerry was sending up Verey lights as we were going along. Every time one went up we halted, and kept quite still in case we should be seen.

It was funny indeed to see how some of the men halted when a light went up. Some had one foot down and one raised, and others were in a crouching position. "My missus orta see me nah playing at blinkin' statchoos," said one old Cockney. —T. Kelly (late 17th London Regt.), 43 Ocean Street, Stepney, E.1.

Bo Peep – 1915 Version

In 1915 at Fricourt "Copper" Kingsland of our regiment, the 7th Royal West Surreys, was on sentry on the fire-step in the front line. At this period of the war steel helmets were not in use. Our cap badge was in the form of a lamb.

A Fritz sniper registered a hit through Kingsland's hat, cutting the tail portion of the lamb away. After he had pulled himself together "Copper" surveyed his cap badge and remarked: "On the larst kit inspection I reported to the sargint that yer was lorst, and nah I shall 'ave ter tell 'im that when Bo Peep fahnd yer, yer wagged yer bloomin' tail off in gratitood." —"Spot," Haifu, Farley Road, Selsdon, Surrey.

Jerry's Dip in the Fat

We were out at rest in an open field on the Somme front when one morning, about 5 a.m., our cook, Alf, of Battersea, was preparing the company's breakfast. There was bacon, but no bread. I was standing beside the cooker soaking one of my biscuits in the fat.

Suddenly a Jerry airman dived down towards the cooker, firing his machine gun. I got under the cooker, Alf fell over the side of it, striking his head on the ground. I thought he was hit. But he sat up, rubbing his head and looking up at Jerry, who was then flying away.

"'Ere!" he shouted, "next time yer wants a dip in the fat, don't be so rough." —H. A. Redford (late 24th London Regt.), 31 Charrington Street, N.W.1.

Carried Unanimously

Some recently captured trenches had to be cleared of the enemy, and in the company told off for the job was a Cockney youth. Proceeding along the trench with a Mills bomb in his hand, he came upon a number of the enemy hiding in a dug-out.

"Nah then," he shouted, holding up the bomb in readiness to throw it if necessary, "all them as votes for coming along wiv me 'old up your 'ands."

All hands were held up, with the cry "Kamerad! Kamerad!" Upon which the Cockney shouted, "Look, mates, it's carried unanermously." —H. Morgan (late 4th Telegraph Construction Co., R.E. Signals), 26 Ranelagh Road, Wembley.

A Very Hot Bath

During the retreat of the remnants of the Fifth Army in March 1918 two of the six-inch howitzers of the Honourable Artillery Company were in action in some deserted horse-lines outside Péronne.

During a lull Gunner A – , a Londoner, like the rest of us, went "scrounging" in some nearby cottages recently abandoned by their inhabitants. He reappeared carrying a large zinc bath, and after filling it with water from the horse pond he made a huge bonfire with broken tables and other furniture, and set the bath on the fire.

Just when the water had been heated Fritz opened out with 5·9's. As we were not firing just then we all took cover, with the exception of Gunner A – , who calmly set his bath of hot water down by one of the guns, undressed, and got into the bath. A minute later a large piece of shell also entered the bath, passed through the bottom of it and into the ground.

The gunner watched the precious water running out, then he slowly rose and, beginning to dress, remarked, "Very well, Fritz, have it your way. I may not be godly, but I did want to be clean." —Edward Boaden (late H.A.C., 309 Siege Battery), 17 Connaught Gardens, Muswell Hill, N.10.

In Lieu of —

During a winter's night on the Somme a party of us were drawing rations just behind the front line trenches. A Cockney chum of mine was disgusted to hear the Q.M. say he was issuing hot soup in lieu of rum.

"Coo! What next?" he grumbled. "Soup in lieu of rum, biscuits in lieu of bread, jam in lieu – " While he spoke Jerry sent over two whizz-bangs which scattered us and the rations and inflicted several casualties.

My chum was hit badly. As he was being carried past the Q.M. he smiled and said, "Someone will have to be in lieu of me now, Quarter!" —T. Allen (late Plymouth Battn., R.N.D.), 21 Sydney Street, S.W.

Putting the Hatt on It

Two brothers named Hatt were serving together in France. The elder was always saying that he would never be hit, as the Germans, not being able to spell his name correctly, could not put it on any of their shells or bullets. (It was a common saying among the soldiers, of course, that a shell or bullet which hit a man had the victim's name on it.)

The younger brother was taken prisoner, and two days later the elder brother was shot through the finger. Turning to his mates he exclaimed, "Blimey, me brother's been an' split on me." —W. J. Bowes, 224 Devon's Road, Bow, E.3.

Tangible Evidence

We were at Levantie in 1915, just before the Battle of Loos, and the rumour was about that the Germans were running short of ammunition. It was very quiet in our sector, as we were opposite the Saxons, and we strolled about at ease.

A party of us was told off to get water just behind the trenches in an old farmhouse which had a pump. We filled all the water bottles and rum jars and then had a look round the ruins to see what we could scrounge, when suddenly Fritz sent a shell over. It hit the wall and sent bricks flying all over the place. One of the bricks hit my mate on the head and knocked him out. When we had revived him he looked up and said, "Strewth, it's right they ain't got no 'ammo.'; they're slinging bricks. It shows yer we've got 'em all beat to a frazzle, don't it?" —J. Delderfield, 54 Hampden Street, Paddington.

What the Cornwalls' Motto Meant

A platoon of my regiment, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, was engaged in carrying screens to a point about 200 yards behind the front line. The screens were to be set up to shield a road from German observation balloons, and they were made of brushwood bound together with wire. They were rolled up for convenience of transport, and when rolled they looked like big bundles of pea-sticks about ten feet long. They were very heavy.

Three men were told off to carry each screen. One of the parties of three was composed of two Cornishmen (who happened to be at the ends of the screen) and their Cockney pal (in the middle), the screen being carried on their shoulders.

When they had nearly reached the point in the communication trench where it was to be dumped, Jerry sent over a salvo of whizz-bangs. His range was good, and consequently the carrying party momentarily became disorganised. The Cornishman at the front end of the screen dashed towards the front line, whilst the man at the other end made a hurried move backwards.

This left the Cockney with the whole of the weight of the screen on his shoulder. The excitement was over in a few seconds and the Cornishmen returned to find the Cockney lying on the duckboards, where he had subsided under the weight of his burden, trying to get up. He stopped struggling when he saw them and said very bitterly, "Yus: One and All's yer blinkin' motter; one under the blinkin' screen and all the rest 'op it."

"One and All," I should mention, is the Cornwalls' motto. —"Cornwall," Greenford, Middlesex.

Atlas – On the Somme

During the Somme offensive we were holding the line at Delville Wood, and a Cockney corporal fresh from England came to our company.

He was told to take charge of a very advanced post, and our company officer gave him all important instructions as to bomb stores, ammunition, rifle grenades, emergency rations, S O S rockets, gas, and all the other numerous and important orders for an advanced post.

After the officer asked him if he understood it all, he said, "Blimey, sir, 'as 'Aig gone on leave?" —Ex-Sergt. Geary, D.C.M. (East Surrey Regt.), 57 Longley Road, Tooting.

Putting the Lid on It

On the Struma Front, Salonika, in September 1916, I was detailed to take a party of Bulgar prisoners behind the lines.