As he pushed back his soft cap I saw that "Big-Bang" had set its mark upon him. The hair about his temples was white as snow.
"WITH OUR ARMY IN FLANDERS"—FIGHTING WITH TOMMY ATKINS
Where Men Hold Rendezvous with Death
Told by G. Valentine Williams, with the British Army
Written in the field and under the eye of the censor, G. Valentine Williams presents in "With Our Army in Flanders" (Edward Arnold, London) a series of vivid war chapters differing in many respects from the current conventional accounts from the battle fronts. Mr. Williams is the London Daily Mail correspondent. He tells about the babel of tongues where men gather in khaki, strange meetings at the front of long separated friends and brothers, the hunger of the big guns.
I—WHERE ALL DIALECTS MEET AT BATTLE
One of the most fascinating things to me about our army in France are the variations of speech. I have sometimes closed my eyes when a battalion has been marching past me on the road and tried to guess, often with some measure of success, at the recruiting area of the regiment from the men's accents or from their tricks of speech.
Take the Scottish regiments, for instance. I have little acquaintance with the dialects of Scotland, but my ear has told me that the speech of almost every Scottish regiment, save such regiments as the Gordons and the Black Watch, that attract men from all over the United Kingdom, differs.