"TOMMY" & "BOSHY"

Dominion, Volume 9, Issue 2619, 15 November 1915, Page 6

"TOMMY" & "BOSHY"

WORDS AND MUSIC IN THE TRENCHES

ATKINS SINGS " THE OF 'ATE "

A most diverting picture of life in tho trendies on the Western front is drawn by Mr. Boyd Cable in the current

"Cornhill" magazine. His theme is "A Hymn of Hate," and he describes with infinite relish tho sort of conversation which goes on between the Germans and our ''boys" when the opposing trenches are within conversational distance. "The troops continue in excellent spirits," said a recent official dispatch. That is tho text on which the story of "The Tower Bridge Rifles" exchanging verbal shots with tho enemy is based. A voice from the German, parapet: "Hullo, Tower Bridge Rifles'! 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. Wo 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 mot us afore I lay you was too dash sorry for it to want to meet us agaiu." r "Oh, we know who you are all right," replied the voice, "and we know you've just relieved the oth Blankshires, and we know who's going to relieve you, and when." " !E knows a blooming heap," said a Tower Bridge private disgustedly. Then, raising his voice-, he asked, "Do you know when we're comin' to tako some more of them trenches 0' yours?" Convincing Repartee. This was felt by the listening Towers to be a masterstroke. . But in a moment came the retort: "You can't take any more," said tho voico, "you haven't 'shells enough." "Anyhow,' replied, an' English corporal, "we ain't short of bombs. 'Ave a few to bo goin' on with," and he and his party lot fly. Then a bit .later. "Hi, there! Where's that Soho barber's assistant that thinks 'e can talk Henglish?" demanded the Towers' spokesman cheerfully. That annoyed the English-speaking German, as, of, course, incidentally it was meant to do., "I'm here, Private Petticote Lane," retorted the voice." "and .if 1 couldn't speak better English than, you I'd be shaming Soho." "You're doing c that,. anyway, you bloomin' renegade do.g-stealer," called back tho private. 'W'y didn't you pay your landlady in Lunnon for the lodgin's you owed when you ran away?" "Sch-weinhund!" said tho voice ' angrily, and a bullet slapped into tho parapet in front of the taunting private. And after a while in good English, "Wo'll make you learn German when we've taken England." "Oh, it's, England you're takin' now," said Private Robinson. "But all you'll ever taTto of England will bo same as you took before —a tuppeny tip if you serves tho soup up nice."

A Musical Evening, After a while: "Now, then, where's tho orchostra?" demanded someone, and tho orchestra, ono mouth organ strong, promptly struck up a lilting music-hall ditty, followed by "My Little Grey Homo." Tho Germans sang "Deutschland über Alles" in full strength and harmony,, and then "The Watch on the Rhino." The Towers, recognised thft song, and capped it in' great glee with "When we've Wound up tlift Watch on the Rhino," a parody which does not go out of its way to spare Gorman feelings.

" 'An 'ow d'you like that, ol' sossidge scoffers?" demanded Private Robinson, loudly.

"You vait," bellowed a guttural voice. "Us virid you up, quick.". , "'Ark!" said Private Robinson, 'in eager anticipation, "I do believe it's— 8-slil There," triumphantly, as again the word rang out—the ono word at tho end of the .verse . . > 'England'.' "

.' "It's it. It's tho 'ymn of 'Atel" Every man sat drinking the air in eagerly. Hadn't every regiment heard about the famous hymn, and longed to hear the tune? And hero it was being sung to them in full chorus, by tho Germans themselves. Oh, this was luck.

• The mouth-organist was listening, as if afraid to miss a single note.

'"Ave you got it, Snapper?" whispered Private Robinson. Snapper, with his eyes fixed on vacancy, began to play tho air over softly and doubtfully. "Let's kid 'em to 6i'ng it again," said Robinson. A loud "Encore!" rang from the trench.

"Was you know vat we haf sing?" asked a German voice.

"It's great, Dutchie. Sing it again." "You haf not understand,", said .tho German angrily. Then a clear tenor in the Gorman trench gave it in English. The Towers hugged themselves over their stupendous hick.

, A Star Turn. Before the last sound of it had passed tho singer had plunged into the next verse, his voice soaring and shaking with an intensity of feeling. The whole effect was inspiring, wonderful, dramatic. One felt that it was emblematic, the heart and soul of the German people poured out in music and words. The Tower Bridge Rifles were most obviously not impressed with fear and trembling. Private Irving, clapping and stamping his feet iu the trench bottom, voiced the impression exactly, "It beats Saturday night in the gallery o' the old Brit," he said enthusiastically. "That bloke —'blimy—'e ought to be doin' the star part at Drnry Lane."

Each evening after that, and later on when inarching to the reservo billets, the Towers made a. particular point of singing the "Hymn of Hate," and the wild yell of "England I" that came at the end of each verse might almost have pleased any enemy of England instead of aggravating them intensely to. the extent of many wasted rounds. 'Ite of the 'eart, an' 'ite of the 'and, 'Ite by water, and 'ite by land, 'Oo do wo 'ite to beat the band? Tim answering roar of "England!" 6tartled the horse of a brigadier. "What on earth aro those fellows singing ?" he asked one of his officers. He was told, and rocked with laughter. "What an extraordinary people!" was tho comment of a French staff officer.