A Strange “Bisley”
We were down to the last cigarette in a box that had done the company for a week. There was a fight to get it, but the sergeant-major said we would have to shoot for it like the King’s Prize at Bisley. It was to go to the man hitting the most Germans in fifty shots. A corporal was sent up a tree to signal hits and misses as best he could. Half the company entered, and the prize was won by a chap who had twenty-three hits. The runner-up had twenty-two, and, as a sort of consolation prize, he was allowed to sit near while the winner smoked the cigarette. He said being near the smoke was better than nothing: A Private of the Scottish Rifles
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