Part 7
“Why do you shiver and shake like that, you vain young fool?” said he. “You don’t suppose the Germans are firing all these expensive shells at you, do you? You are not a cathedral or a work of art!”
ANYTHING TO QUALIFY
A lot of old-timers of the Army and Navy Club in Piccadilly were swapping stories.
“One Sam Haskins,” says a retired brigadier-general, “decided to enlist. He burned with a desire to serve his country. So he applied at a recruiting office, and was duly punched and prodded, trotted up and down, jumped over chairs and tables, and so forth.
“Then came the questions. All manner of them were fired at him, and he answered most of them satisfactorily. Then came the stern inquiry:
“‘Have you ever served a term of imprisonment?’
“‘No, sir,’ stammered Sam; ‘but,’ he added, hastily, ‘I’d be willing to serve a short one, if it’s necessary.’”
TAKING THE JOY OUT OF LIFE
Wife—“The heavy explosions of a battle always cause rain. It rained after Waterloo. It rained after Fontenoy. It rained after Marathon.”
Husband—“But Marathon was fought with spears and arrows, my dear.”
Wife—“There you go again! Always throwing cold water on everything I have to say.”
ON HIS WAY
Still another recruiting story. A new cavalry trooper was being initiated into the mysteries of riding when his horse bolted. “Where the deuce are you going?” thundered the instructor. The reply came back in gasps: “Don’t know—but the ’orse’s ’ome is at ’Ammersmith.”
MORTIFIED THE FRENCHMAN
“Of course, doctor, German measles are seldom serious?”
“I never met but one fatal case.”
“Fatal!”
“Yes; it was a Frenchman, and when he discovered it was German measles that he had, mortification set in.”
CHECKS FOR TWO
When the young officer, ordered to the Front, called on his tailor to get a fresh outfit, the tailor could not forget that there was already an old and unsettled account.
But he felt nervous about broaching the subject.
“I see the Germans,” said the young officer, casually, “have had a check.”
“Lucky Germans!” said the tailor, wistfully.
The young man looked puzzled for a moment, and then took the gentle hint. Next day the bill was settled.
SYMPATHETIC SOUL
Scene—Soldiers’ concert at which no alcoholic liquors are being supplied, the men being served with mineral waters by young lady helpers.
Soldier (to young lady helper)—“Do you see that the man who is singing has got his eyes half-shut?”
Young Lady—“So he has. What’s he doing that for?”
Soldier—“He can’t bear to look at us. He knows wot we’re sufferin’.”
A QUESTION OF DIET
During a particularly nasty dust-storm at one of the camps a recruit ventured to seek shelter in the sacred precincts of the cook’s domain.
After a time he broke an awkward silence by saying to the cook:
“If you put the lid on that camp kettle you would not get so much of the dust in your soup.”
The irate cook glared at the intruder, and then broke out:
“See here, me lad. Your business is to serve your country.”
“Yes,” interrupted the recruit, “but not to eat it.”
A GENTLE HINT
The British soldier is never at a loss when sarcasm is needed, and an example of his readiness was seen only the other day.
A long route march had been in progress and the officer had been none too patient. Several times he had had occasion to speak strongly to the men. At last, on the march home, the order came, “March easy”—the time when songs are indulged in. There was no call for “Tipperary” this time, but unanimously they started singing, “Kind Words Can Never Die.”
A MATTER OF PUNCTUATION
Bix—“I see there’s a report from Holland that concrete bases for German cannon have been found there.”
Dix—“Don’t believe a word you hear from Holland. The geography says it is a low, lying country.”
AND THERE ARE OTHERS
First Lady—“I see the master cutting a dash this morning. Nobody would think he was hard-up.”
Second Lady—“Lor’ bless yer, no! Since this ’ere Merrytorium come in he walks down the High Street in front of all the shops as though he didn’t owe ’em a penny.”
SOME BONEHEAD
The value of army remounts was exemplified the other day by the cavalry sergeant who lost patience with an awkward recruit.
“Never approach the horses from behind without speaking,” he exclaimed. “If you do they’ll kick you in that thick head of yours, and the end of it will be that we shall have nothing but lame horses in the squadron.”
PROUD OF IT
A train loaded with wounded soldiers drew up at a certain station. Among these was one whose face could not be discerned for bandages.
“You poor, poor boy,” sympathized an English lady, who approached him timidly.
“Madam,” replied the soldier, with as much pride as springing to attention would convey, “don’t pity me. Pity my chums in the train there, who got hit where it won’t show.”
“Why, why,” she stammered. “I thought you would not like to be disfigured.”
“Disfigured!” the soldier replied, scornfully; “I am not disfigured, I am decorated!”
DIPLOMACY
A well-known English politician was much annoyed by reporters. One day he was enjoying a chat at a London hotel, when a strange young man came up who seemed to have something of importance to communicate, and led him across the room. Arrived in a corner, the stranger whispered, “I am on the staff of an evening paper, and I should like you to tell me what you think of the Government’s foreign policy.” Mr. Dash looked a little puzzled; then he said, “Follow me.” Leading the way, he walked through the reading-room, down some steps into the drawing-room, through a long passage into the dining-room, and drawing his visitor into the corner behind the hat-rack, he whispered, “I really don’t know anything about it.”
AN OVER-DOSE
A well-known physician was examining a class of nurses. He described the condition of a patient, and asked one nurse how much morphine, in her opinion, should be administered to the sufferer.
“Eight grains,” promptly replied the nurse.
The doctor made no comment, and the girl passed on. When her turn came again she appeared greatly confused, and said to the examiner, “Doctor, I wish to correct the answer I made last time. I meant to say that one-eighth of a grain should be given to the patient.”
“Too late,” remarked the physician, without looking up from his question paper. “The man’s dead.”
NOBODY CONCERNED
The wounded soldier was being attended by the doctor. The latter seemed to treat the case in a light-hearted manner. He prodded the soldier in the ribs, and grinned.
“You’ll be all right,” he said. “You’ve got a bullet in your left arm; but that does not trouble me in the least.”
“I don’t suppose it does,” said the soldier. “An’ if you’d got a bullet in both arms I don’t suppose it ’ud trouble me, either.”
HARD LUCK
He was a Canadian and he wore a corporal’s stripes. There he sat snugly in a sheltered part of his trench in that little corner of Belgium and played poker with a quartet of his comrades. Luck was against him. He had lost about everything he had to lose, when at the very height of the game—just after the dealer had done his best and worst—a shell came through the roof of the shelter, passed between the Canadian’s long, lean legs (luckily without hitting him), and buried itself harmlessly in the soft earth. The others of the party leaped up in not inexcusable haste and fled from the place, but the Canadian did not move.
The disturbance brought the company commander on the run.
“What’s up?” says he.
“Well, sir,” says the Canadian, “that there shell drops in on us and when it don’t explode at once I judge it is pretty safe not to go off at all. So I just set where I am. The cursed luck of it is that I’ve been playin’ away here all morning’ drawin’ rotten cards and losin’ my shirt, and here just as I holds the first four of a kind that’s gladdened my two eyes since Hector was a pup—and kings at that, sir—at that identical moment there comes this pifflin’ German turnip and the other fellows beats it.”
HOW HE TOOK HIS
English men-of-war have no ice-making machines on board, as do our ships, and everybody knows how the English fail to understand us on the subject of the use of ice, especially in our drinks.
An English officer was aboard one of our ships of the Asiatic fleet, and, on being served with an iced drink, commented on the delights of having cool water aboard. The American officer responded with an offer of a small cake of ice, which was sent the following morning. Meeting the Englishman ashore a week later, the American asked him if he had enjoyed the ice.
“Enjoy it, old top? Why, do you know, that was the first cold bawth I’ve had since I left England!”
WILLING TO OBLIGE
A recruit very anxious to join Kitchener’s Army enters recruiting station determined to accommodate himself to any condition required.
Officer (filling in form)—“What’s your religion?”
Zealous Recruit—“Well, what are you short of?”
CAUSE FOR PREJUDICE
“Why are you for the Allies?” a friend asked a solemn-looking neutral, who looked as if there had been much suffering in his life. “Is it because you abhor Prussian militarism?”
“No.”
“Is it that you fear Germany’s desire to expand, to absorb foreign lands? Is it that you dislike the German character?”
“No,” replied the solemn-looking individual.
“Well, why are you for the Allies?”
“Because,” said the other, with a pensive air, “I once ate some sauerkraut.”
SELF-BETRAYED
A sentry was giving close attention to his post in the neighborhood of a British army camp in England, challenging returning stragglers late after dark. The following is reported as an incident of his vigil:
“Who goes there?” called the sentry at the sound of approaching footsteps.
“Coldstream Guards!” was the response.
“Pass, Coldstream Guards!” rejoined the sentry.
“Who goes there?” again challenged the sentry.
“Forty-ninth Highlanders!” returned the unseen pedestrian.
“Pass, Forty-ninth Highlanders!”
“Who goes there?” sounded a third challenge.
“None of your d——n business!” was the husky reply.
“Pass, Canadians!” acquiesced the sentry.
BRITISH HUMOR
The crew of the Harpalion, one of the British ships torpedoed off Beachy Head, arrived in London yesterday. Mr. S. Harper, the second officer, describing the experiences of the crew, said the ship was sailing down the Channel at the rate of about eleven and a half knots.
“We had just sat down to tea,” said Mr. Harper, “at the engineers’ table, and the chief engineer was saying grace. He had just uttered the words, ‘For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful,’ when there came an awful crash.”
A MIXED BLESSING
A gallant Tommy, having received from England an anonymous gift of socks, entered them at once, for he was about to undertake a heavy march. He was soon prey to the most excruciating agony, and when, a mere cripple, he drew off his foot-gear at the end of a terrible day, he discovered inside the toe of the sock what had once been a piece of stiff writing paper, now reduced to pulp, and on it appeared in bold, feminine hand the almost illegible benediction: “God bless the wearer of this pair of socks!”
OR A BASEBALL UMPIRE
“I saw a war picture, and one of the soldiers in the firing-line, amid bursting shells and dead and wounded men, was yawning.”
“He was probably a football-player to whom his surroundings seemed tame.”
NOT TO EXCEED HIS LIMIT
During the opening stages of the present war a certain soldier was told that there were three Germans to every one of the Allied forces in that part of the field.
Tommy went into action with great vigor, but later his company sergeant was horrified to see him shoulder his rifle and calmly march to the rear.
“Where are you off to?” he roared.
“Oh,” replied Tommy, “I’ve killed three of the enemy. I’ve done my share, so I’m off back to the camp.”
OUT OF HARM’S WAY
“If you had to go to war what position would you choose?”
“The drummer’s, I think.”
“Why so?”
“When a charge was ordered, I’d pick up my drum and beat it.”
SHOWING HIM HOW
The company was about to commence practice in trench-digging.
“Shall I show you how to handle the spade?” inquired a young officer of one private who was curiously watching the efforts of his companions.
“Aye, if tha likes,” responded the soldier.
“There you are,” commented the officer shortly afterwards, as he handed over the spade.
“Tha shapes pratty weel,” said the private, a collier from the Durham pits, “for a novice.”
NO EXCEPTION
Policeman (arresting burglar)—“Ain’t people worried enough by this war without burglaring their houses?”
Burglar—“All the papers are saying ‘business as usual.’”
IN HIS OWN LANGUAGE
Bill Bates, a coal miner, had joined Kitchener’s Army, and was undergoing musketry instruction.
The officer had been at some pains to impress upon the recruits that in loading a rifle they should place one cartridge in the barrel and ten in the magazine.
Singling out Bill, the officer said to him:
“Now, what do you do with your cartridges when loading?”
“Put one in t’ tunnel an’ ten in t’ can!” was the reply.
SCARED HIM TO THINK OF IT
The general was distributing medals for special valor. Summoning Private Bumptious to step forward, much to the general surprise of the ranks, he thundered out:
“Men, look upon this hero, and imitate his bravery! All through the long night he stood firm at his sentinel’s post, although completely surrounded by the enemy, and there he remained, calmly.”
Private Bumptious turned deadly pale. But before he fell in a faint to the ground, he gasped out:
“Then they were enemies! I thought they were our own troops.”
WHAT HAPPENED TO REIMS
“Wasn’t it fearful about the Reims cathedral?”
“Don’t say Reems; it sounds horribly ignorant.”
“Well, how do you pronounce it?”
“Why, Hranss.”
“How?”
“Hn—Hranhss! Just as if you were clearing your throat. See? Hranss!”
“Well, you sound as if you had a dreadful influenza, threatened with grip!”
“Well, that’s right, anyhow. H—hn—hnh—hrahnhss!”
“You’d better go to Arizona! You’ll never get well here! I don’t believe you, anyway. Everybody says Reems.”
“They don’t, either!”
“They do so!”
“Oh, well, it depends on the sort of people you associate with—”
“Well, I don’t go with a lot of fake highbrows, anxious to show off the French they learned in a course of lessons by mail—”
“Better than a lot of country junks who don’t know how to pronounce—”
“Oh, well, the church wasn’t hurt much, anyhow.”
“No, they say it can be repaired. How do you like my hat?”
“Heavenly! What do you think of mine?”
“Adorable! Let’s go in and have soda.”
“Let’s.”
REBUKE THAT DIDN’T WORK
British Teacher (to small boy)—“So you’ve come to school without a pen, eh? What would you say if one of our soldiers went to France without his gun?”
Tommy—“Please, sir, I should say he was an officer.”
SOMETHING TO THINK OF
The awkward squad had been having a lecture in musketry. Just before they were dismissed the instructor asked one of them:
“Why is the rifle placed in the hands of a soldier?”
“To protect my life,” came the prompt reply.
The instructor glared at him.
“Protect your life!” he snorted. “Who’s bothering about your life? The rifle, my lad, is placed in your hands for the destruction of the King’s enemies!”
A FAVORABLE BALANCE
A friend called on a merchant who did a large Continental business to offer him his sympathy.
“This must hit you very hard.”
“Very hard,” said the merchant. “I’ve over eleven hundred pounds owing to me in Germany, and it’s touch and go whether I ever get a penny of it. Still, we’ve got to put up with something for the country.”
“I’m glad you take it so cheerfully.”
“Well,” explained the merchant, “I owe over sixteen hundred pounds in Germany.”
DISREGARDING THE LIMIT
In order to stimulate rifle practice in a Lancashire district, especially amongst the rising generation, a match was arranged in which the competitors must be over fourteen years and under seventeen years of age.
The match was in progress, and there seemed to be not a few of the competitors who would never see another seventeenth birthday.
The climax was reached, however, when a young enthusiast, seeing the excellent score one of the competitors was making, astonished the spectators by shouting at the top of his voice:
“Go on, father; get another bull’s-eye!”
NO ABBREVIATIONS WANTED
A corporal in the Liverpool Scottish tells a good story of “the front.”
The sentry’s challenge is no longer the orthodox “Halt! Who goes there?” It is a short, prosaic, “Who are you?”
The other day a tired sentry challenged a party of the Princess Patricia’s Own Canadian Light Infantry. Back came the response, “P.P.O.C.L.I.”
“I don’t want to hear you say your alphabet,” growled the sentry. “Who the blazes are you?”
HIS SACRIFICE
“George, where are your school-books!”
“When notices appeared that books were wanted for the wounded, I gave mine to them.”—Humoristicke Listy (Prague).
UNSATISFACTORY OFFICER
They were about the rawest lot of recruits the sergeant had ever tackled. He worked hard for a couple of hours, and at last, thinking he had them licked into shape, he decided to test them.
“Right turn!” he barked; then, before they had ceased to move, barked again, “Left turn!”
One burly yokel slowly left the ranks and made off towards the barracks.
“Here, you!” yelled the sergeant, angrily, “where are you off to?”
“Ah’ve had enough on’t,” replied the recruit, in disgusted tones. “Tha dissent knaw thee arn mind two minutes stright running.”
PERPETUAL MOTION
“Excuse me, but do you mind keeping your dog indoors at night till the war is over?”
“Why?” said the surprised dog-owner to the stranger.
“Well, your dog’s barking sounds just like a ‘special’ boy shouting in the distance. My wife’s got two brothers at the front, and every time she hears your dog she sends me racing down to get the ‘special,’ and says I’ve been too stupid to catch the boy.”
MURDERING HIM
Very British Guest—“What! Brahms? You’re surely not going to sing German?”
Hostess (apologetically)—“Well, of course, I shall take care to sing it flat.”
SLACKER GETS BACK
Frederick Palmer, the war correspondent, was talking about England.
“Everything is war, war, war, over there,” he said. “Dear help the young man who is not in khaki. He has a dreadful time.
“Now and then, though, one of these slackers—as they are called—gets a bit of his own back.
“A slacker, for example, was passing a prison camp near London when an interned German shouted at him from the barbed wire fence:
“‘Hey, Kitchener vants you!’
“The slacker frowned. ‘What?’ he said.
“‘Kitchener vants you,’ the German repeated.
“‘Well, by Jove,’ said the slacker, ‘he’s got you, all right!’”
NEW CAUSE FOR WAR
Robert Skinner, ex-consul-general to London, said at a dinner:
“Of course neutrals see things from one viewpoint and belligerents from another. We all have our various viewpoints.
“An English inebriate was recently released from jail. To a friend who met him outside the prison gates he said:
“‘Well, mate, wot noose?’
“‘There’s a law agin’ treatin’, was the reply, ‘and pretty near the whole world is at war.’
“‘Just think,’ he said. ‘Just think of a no-treatin’ law havin’ sech an effect as that.’”
NO ROSE WITHOUT ITS THORN
The wounded soldier had reached home and was just out of a long delirium.
“Where am I?” he said, feebly, as he felt the loving hands making him comfortable. “Where am I? In heaven?”
“No, dear,” cooed his devoted wife. “I am still with you.”
A GOOD COME-BACK, BILL
A chaplain in the navy enjoys telling of his endeavors to induce a marine to give up the use of tobacco. During a talk that ensued between the two, the chaplain said:—
“After all, Bill, you must reflect that in all creation there is not to be found any animal except man that smokes.”
The marine sniffed.
“Yes,” he agreed, “and you won’t find, either, any other animal in all creation that cooks its food, or wears clothes.”
ON THE SAFE SIDE
Zealous Sentry—“Afraid I can’t let you go by without the password, sir.”
Irate Officer—“But, confound you! I tell you I have forgotten it. You know me well enough. I’m Major Jones.”
Sentry—“Can’t help it, sir; must have the password.”
Voice from the Guard-Tent—“Oh, don’t stand arguing all night, Bill; shoot ’im.”
COULDN’T BE DONE
The English official had been telling the old Scottish farmer what he must do in the case of a German invasion on the East Coast of Scotland.
“An’ hiv I reely tae dae this wi’ a’ ma beesties gin the Germans come?” asked the old fellow at the finish.
The official informed him that such was the law, “All live stock of every description must be branded and driven inland.”
“Dearie me!” gasped the farmer, in dismay. “I’m thinking I’ll hae an awful; ob wi’ ma bees!”
ON THE FIRING LINE
A stranger became one of a group of listeners to a veteran of many battles. The veteran had about concluded a vividly colored narrative of a furious battle, in which he had taken part.
“Just think of it,” exclaimed one of the party, turning to the stranger. “How would you like to stand with shells bursting all around you?”
“I have been there,” responded the newcomer.
“What? Have you, too, been a soldier?”
“No,” answered the stranger. “I am an actor.”
A MATTER OF TRADE
Outside one of the recruiting depots in a large town a sergeant saw a smart young milkman, and, thinking to get a fresh recruit, said:
“Young man, would you like to serve the King?”
“Rather!” said the milkman, eagerly. “How many quarts does he want?”
NOT LIKELY
Two Irishmen were walking into Dublin from one of the outlying villages, and fell to discussing the war and the consequent increase in the cost of living.
“But have ye heard the latest news?” says Tim.
“No,” says Pat. “Phwat is it?”
“There’s a penny off the loaf.”
“Bedad,” says Phat, “I hope it’s off the penny ones.”
IMPORTANT POSTSCRIPT
An Army officer’s wife wrote to a Royal Army medical corps officer saying her child was suffering during teething; she addressed the letter “Dr. Brown.”
The recipient returned it with the remark that he should be addressed “Brigade-Surgeon Lieutenant-Colonel Brown.”
Whereupon the lady wrote back:—
“Dear Brigade-Surgeon Lieutenant-Colonel Brown—I am sorry about mistake.—Yours, May Jones.
“P. S.-Please bring your sword to lance baby’s gums.”
OR A SCRAP OF PAPER
“I suppose you had a good deal of trouble when you spent your holiday in Germany this summer?” said Mrs. De Jinks.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Von Slammerton; “chiefly in the matter of getting money, however. Why, would you believe it, Mrs. De Jinks, a letter of credit over there wasn’t of any more value than a treaty of neutrality?”
NOT TO BE OUTDONE
An Irishman who had recently joined Lord Kitchener’s Army was sitting in a railway refreshment room the other day, when two smart young soldiers entered. Thinking to make the Irishman look small, one of them went up to the young lady attendant and asked for “A good cigar for a Hussar!”
A little time afterwards the other one went up and said: “A glass of beer for a Grenadier!”