admonition,’” he complained. “An’ all I got was a good wiggin’. Some
other fellow ’as been and kept that admonition and means to do me out
of it. Now, I wants to know what it is, for I mean to have it. I don’t
mean to be cheated out of anything!”
HIS MEANING IS PLAIN
The wounded Irish soldier was relating his adventures to the
inquisitive old lady visitor.
“Afther we captured th’ hill, mum,” he said, “we hild it fur a whoile,
but was evintually forced to retrate by th’ weight av numbers.”
“And were there many dead left on the hill?” she asked, anxiously.
“Dead!” he echoed. “Whoi, the whole hillsoide was simply aloive wid
thim!”
SOONER OR LATER
Private —— was known to all his chums as “the early bird,” probably
because it was an exact description of the very opposite to what he
really was, for “the early bird” was always late, the last man to
get out of bed at reveille and the last man on parade, and when his
regiment sailed for France his chums declared that he was the last into
the transport ship and the last out of it.
When his regiment was doing its spell in the trenches “the early bird”
was sent for by his officer, and as he was creeping along the trench
towards the dug-out a stray bullet caught him in the shoulder, just as
he was outside the officer’s shelter.
After seeing that he wasn’t seriously wounded, the officer exclaimed,
with a twinkle in his eye, “If you had just been a second earlier you
would have missed that.”
“I would, sir,” returned Private ——, “or if I had been a second later
it would have missed me.”
INTERRUPTED REPAST
A Territorial on guard one night was walking up and down his beat in a
business-like way when one of his chums brought him some pudding, which
he was very pleased to get.
He was sitting down in the sentry-box, eating it, when the general of
his regiment came up to him in civilian clothes.
The Territorial carried on with his pudding, not noticing the general.
The general said:—
“Do you know who I am?”
“You’re the general’s servant?”
“No; guess again.”
“Well, you’re his butler?”
“No; guess again.”
“Maybe you are the general himself?”
“That’s who I am.”
“Oh, half a mo! Hold this pudding until I present arms.”
AN EXCELLENT BRIGADE
We heard of a man the other day who, being apparently of military
age (though he was really over it), was confronted by the usual old
gentleman in the usual railway carriage with the challenge why had he
not joined.
“Oh, but I belong to the M. B. B.,” said the victim.
“M. B. B.? What’s that, sir?”
“The Mind My Own Business Brigade,” replied the other, resuming his
reading of the paper.
WHY THEY THREW HIM IN AGAIN
A dentist in an English east-coast town was one day standing on the
pier watching the evolutions of some warships, when he accidentally
toppled into the water. Three recruits who were standing by immediately
plunged in to the rescue and hauled him out.
On recovering his breath, he looked admiringly at his brave rescuers,
and in a voice filled with deep gratitude he said:
“My brave fellows, how can I ever repay you for your gallantry? Just
come along to my consulting rooms, and I’ll draw all the bloomin’ teeth
out of your heads, and not charge you a penny.”
NOTHING TO FUSS ABOUT
At a “certain place in France” where the British and German trenches
are within shouting distance of each other, the German soldiers were
loudly singing one of their favorite war songs, “Gott mit uns! Gott mit
uns!”
These “vain repetitions” palled on the Britons after a time, and at
last an exasperated Jock arose in wrath and shouted across to the
enemy, “Hae dune wi’ yer bletherin’! Ilka yin o’ us has got mittens
tae, tho’ we dinna mak’ sic a fash aboot them.”
FOES AS FRIENDS
Undoubtedly the most amazing feature of the present war was the manner
in which foe fraternized with foe on Christmas Day—when English and
German exchanged presents, had Christmas trees in the trenches,
and gave concerts for one another’s benefit. Nevertheless, these
incidents are no new feature of warfare. Wellington had to cope with
what he regarded as a very serious similar state of affairs during the
Peninsular war. He issued the strictest orders and took the severest
measures to stop it, making it punishable with death for any man to be
found holding any form of intercourse with the enemy.
When in Portugal the English lines were so close to those of the
army of Massena that the horses had to water at the same river which
separated them, the soldiers came to a mutual understanding not to fire
on one another when drawing water. This led to an exchange of gifts and
finally to the amazing spectacle of English and French soldiers sitting
round the same camp fires, sharing rations and playing cards.
It seems to be a common phenomenon of war that, however bitter the
struggle, a feeling of friendship will spring up after a time between
the troops in the front ranks if they are close to one another for
any length of time. It was so in the Russo-Japanese war, and it
seems to arise from a growing respect for one’s adversary in sharing
common hardships and danger. National feeling gives way before the
fellow-feeling for the man opposite, who, after all, is not responsible
for the war, but only obeying orders.
As one paper said at the time of the incident in this present war, “The
little tales of the Christmas truce in the trenches prove that the
gospel of brotherhood is more powerful than the gospel of hate.”
STRICTLY OBEDIENT
Colonel Kemyss, of the 40th Regiment, was remarkable for the studied
pomposity of his diction. One day, observing that a careless man in the
ranks had a particularly dirty face, which appeared not to have been
washed for a twelvemonth, he was exceedingly indignant at so gross a
violation of military propriety.
“Take him,” said he to the corporal, who was an Irishman, “take the man
and lave him in the waters of the Guadiana.”
After some time the corporal returned.
“What have you done with the man I sent with you?” inquired the
colonel. Up flew the corporal’s right hand across the peak of his cap.
“Sure an’t plaise y’r honor, and didn’t y’r honor tell me to lave him
in the river? And sure enough I left him in the river, and there he is
now, according to y’r honor’s orders.”
NOT LIKELY
A Barbados plantation negro is reported to have said to his overseer:
“Massa, is it true that before the war the Kaiser sent a bag of rice to
King George and told him, ‘King George, I’se got as many soldiers as
there is rice in this bag,’ and that King George sent to the Kaiser a
bottle of the hottest peppers that grows and tell him, ‘I only got as
many soldiers as peppers in this bottle, but you just bite one of them
and you’ll see how your soldiers will like ’em’?”
THE KAISER’S INCOME
How His Money Is Invested
Thanks to the advice of financiers who, for obvious reasons, he
admitted to his friendship, the Kaiser’s private fortune has increased
to such an extent of late years that it was estimated a short time ago
by the eminent German authority, Herr Rudolph Martin, that he is easily
the richest man in Germany, having an annual income of five million
dollars derived from possessions valued at approximately $100,000,000.
Apart from the Kaiser’s fortune, his son, the Crown Prince, has a
separate income of $250,000, drawn from property valued at nearly
$5,000,000, while the Kaiser’s brother, Prince Henry, enjoys some
$150,000 a year on account of an estate worth two and a half million.
Altogether the principal members of the Hohenzollern family own
property valued at approximately $125,000,000.
The Kaiser’s fortune has been mainly built up by investments in many
businesses. He has some very large holdings in the big German steamship
lines, is extensively interested in the diamond-mine enterprises of
German West Africa, owns forests and lands to the value of seventeen
and a half millions, carries on a large lumber business, and has a
horse-breeding establishment in Western Prussia which brings him in
a handsome revenue. Furthermore, he has great financial interests in
a municipal lager-beer brewery at Hanover, and founded an extensive
pottery factory on his private estates at Cadinen.
Altogether the Kaiser owns about forty castles and country houses,
valued at $10,000,000, and various property in Berlin, approximately
worth $5,000,000. In seven different provinces he owns seventy-four
estates, comprising close on half a million acres.
It is interesting to note that ever since Germany began to make
preparations for a great war the Kaiser has been investing immense
sums of money on the other side of the Atlantic. He is one of the
largest landowners in the Western United States—not in his own
name, of course—and owns a considerable section of property in the
West of Canada. So notorious is the fact that it was at one time a
standing joke at Vancouver that, although the Kaiser was a large owner
of property in a certain district, he declined to join the local
ratepayers’ association, which would have been materially assisted in
its propaganda by the use of his name.
SOMETHING REPOSEFUL
Soldiers were called for, owing to the scarcity of civilians, to work
the railway. The weary “Tommies” were lying in camp one night after a
hard day’s work, when a sergeant called out:
“Any of you men want to put your names down as railway porters,
drivers, stokers, half-boiled clerks, or for any other appointments
connected with the railway?”
Silence, broken only by snores. Then one “Tommy” slowly raised his head
and drowsily muttered:
“Put me down as a sleeper, sergeant.”
ENOUGH IS TOO MUCH
“Are you going to the Wallerby reception tonight?”
“No. The Twobbles will be there, so I declined my invitation.”
“Why do you object to the presence of the Twobbles?”
“I don’t object to their presence particularly, but I have already
heard them tell the story of their escape from Berlin ten or twelve
times, and I don’t feel equal to another recital.”
TELLING HIM ALL ABOUT IT
The recruits were going through their first course of musketry, and
they were in charge of a full-blown second lieutenant, who was trying
to show his authority, together with his great knowledge of musketry.
Sauntering up to the latest recruit, he said:—
“See here, my man, this thing is a rifle; this is the barrel, this is
the butt, and this is where you put the cartridge in.”
The recruit seemed to be taking it all in, so the officer, continuing,
said:—
“You put the weapon to your shoulder; these little things on the barrel
are called sights; then to fire you pull this little thing, which
is called the trigger. Now smarten yourself up, and remember what I
have told you, and, by the way, what trade did you follow before you
enlisted?—a collier, I suppose.”
“No, sir,” came the reply. “I only worked as a gunsmith for the
Government Small Arms Factory.”
THE ENGLISH LIKE THIS KIND
A little boy received a toy donkey as a birthday present.
“What are you going to call it?” asked his father.
“King George,” replied the boy.
“Oh, no,” said his father, “that would never do. That would be an
insult to the King. Why not call it the Kaiser?”
“Because,” said the little boy, indignantly, “that would be an insult
to my donkey.”
GAVE IT AWAY
A Scottish Territorial was having his first experience of night duty,
and was feeling a little nervous. The password was “Discount.”
In the darkest of the small hours a black form suddenly stepped up to
him.
“Wh-wh-who goes there?” he challenged.
“Friend,” was the reply.
“Advance, f-f-friend, and give the d-d-discount.”
A “SHIRT-SLEEVE GENERAL”
It was in South Africa that General French earned the title of the
“shirt-sleeve General”—a sobriquet that conveys a subtle compliment
from “Tommy’s” point of view. Actually French was often to be seen
walking about in camp during his heavy marches in shirt-sleeves, writes
Mr. Cecil Chisholm, in his biography of Sir John French.
One afternoon a correspondent rode up to the lines, and, seeing a
soldier sitting on a bundle of hay, smoking a dilapidated-looking old
briar pipe, asked where the General was.
“The old man is somewhere about,” coolly replied the soldier.
“Well, just hold my horse while I go and search for him.”
“Certainly, sir,” and the smoker rose and obediently took the bridle.
“Can you tell me where the General is?” inquired the correspondent of a
staff-officer farther down the line.
“General French? Oh, he’s somewhere about. Why, there he is, holding
that horse’s head!”
And the officer pointed directly to the smoker, still tranquilly
pulling at his pipe and holding the horse. Needless to say, “Uncle
French” and his men hugely enjoyed the correspondent’s awakening.
GRIN AND BEAR IT
“This war will go on and on,” said Mrs. Harry Payne Whitney, who has
given a $250,000 field hospital to the belligerents.
“This war will go on and on,” she repeated, sadly, “and the side that
is getting the worst of it will display the spirit of little Willie.
“Little Willie’s father, as he laid on the slipper, said:
“‘Willie, this hurts me more, far more, than it does you.’
“‘Then keep it up,’ said Willie, grinding his teeth. ‘Keep it up, dad.
I can stand it.’”
CHANCE FOR A FREE RIDE
General Servant—“If you please, mum, may I have a ’oliday?”
Mistress—“Why, Jane, you have had a fortnight’s holiday these last
twelve months already.”
Servant—“Yes, mum; but the baker tells me that the Government gents is
sending generals out to France, their fares is paid by the taxes, and I
thought the sea-trip would do me good, mum.”
KING ALBERT—CHAUFFEUR
The King of the Belgians, one of the most democratic of European
monarchs, was spending some time in Switzerland in the summer when the
following incident happened.
At Territet the King and Queen were motoring. His Majesty was driving,
and there were no attendants. The Queen went into a shop to make some
purchases. The King was standing by the car reading a newspaper, when
an American woman came out of the shop, jumped into the car, which she
mistook for a public conveyance, and bade the monarch to drive her
quickly to her hotel.
“Certainly, madam,” said the King, and deposited the woman at the hotel.
Accounts vary as to whether the King accepted or did not accept any
fare.
In the meantime the Queen had come out of the store and was surprised
to find that her husband and the car were absent. However, they
speedily returned, and their Majesties laughed over the story together.
TIRED AND CROSS
Two companies of the “Buffs” were marching along after a very tiring
day, when a young staff officer galloped up to the captain in command
of the party.
“Are you the West Riding?” he asked.
But before the captain had time to reply a gruff voice answered from
the ranks, “No, we’re the Buffs—walking.”
TURKISH NAVAL EFFICIENCY
The acquisition of a brand-new Brazilian Dreadnaught by Turkey recalls
the story of the Turkish admiral who had been newly appointed to the
command of the Ægean squadron. He installed himself in the admiral’s
quarters—which opened to the sternwalk—on board the new flagship one
evening, and went to bed. Next morning he awoke and ordered full speed
ahead. After a little delay the propeller began to revolve, but as it
had not moved since the ship was sold to Turkey—at more than cost price
by a power which had no use for it—it made a tremendous racket.
“Allah!” cried the admiral. “What in the name of the Prophet is this
uproar?”
“That, Excellency, is the propeller,” replied the captain.
“Stop it, then!”
It was pointed out to the admiral that stopping the propeller resulted
as a rule in the stopping of the ship likewise.
“Then take the thing off,” bellowed the naval autocrat, “and put it on
the other end.”
ROUGH ON TOMMY
The mails from home had just been received by a certain regiment. Not
only were there letters, but many parcels from relatives and friends
at home for lucky soldiers. One of the Tommies received a large box
addressed to himself, and with a triumphant yell he rushed off to his
company’s lines and gathered them around him to share in the eagerly
anticipated contents of his box.
“Smokes, lads!” he cried, as he undid the wrapping. “From the old man;
I knows it. An’ there’s sure to be a bottle or two of Scotch.”
He opened the box, gave one look at the contents, and collapsed in a
heap.
“What is it?” cried his comrades, pressing round.
“It’s from ole Auntie Mary,” groaned the disappointed warrior.
“Bandages an’ ointment an’ embrocation an’ splints, an’ a book on ‘’Ow
to be yer own Surgin’!”
NOT EXACTLY COMPLIMENTARY
The company marched so poorly and went through their drill so badly
that the captain, who was of a somewhat excitable nature, shouted
indignantly at the soldiers:—
“You knock-kneed, big-footed idiots, you are not worthy of being
drilled by a captain. What you want is a rhinoceros to drill you, you
wretched lot of donkeys.”
Then, sheathing his sword indignantly, he added, “Now, lieutenant, you
take charge of them!”
THE QUEEN, LIEUTENANT
The sporty lieutenant, on being handed one of the mufflers so
thoughtfully sent out to English soldiers at the Front by “Mary R.”
representing the ladies of the Empire, murmured:—
“I thought I knew every single one of the Empire ladies, by sight at
any rate; but dashed if I can remember ‘Mary R.’”
FINE WORK
The war bulletins, which used to announce the taking of provinces and
army corps, announce now the taking of single trenches, or single
farm-houses—they announce, like a football game, gains of a few yards.
It’s fine work, very fine work. It reminds one of the jockey who was a
trifle overweight—only a trifle, mind; but this trifle was enough to
disqualify him.
“James,” said his owner after the scales had told their tale, “is there
nothing more you can do?”
“No, sir; nothin’.”
“Are you shaved and hair-cut?”
“Half an hour ago.”
“Nails?”
The jockey showed his nails. They were trimmed to the quick.
“You’d better get your tonsils cut, James.”
But this, too, had been done.
“Well, then, James,” said the owner, “there’s nothing for it but to
have your appendix taken out. Hurry off to the hospital now, or you’ll
be too late.”
NO CAUSE FOR FEAR
A company of Territorials were at the range. The usual marker had not
turned up, but a deputy was soon found in the person of an old worthy
well-known in the district who occasionally acted as substitute in
such circumstances. The first round was about to be fired when the
captain, looking towards the target, was almost stupefied to see the
newly-engaged marker right in the line of fire.
“Stop firing!” he screeched, as he hastened to where the old man stood,
calmly smoking. “You blithering idiot!” he yelled, as he approached.
“Do you know you were within an ace of death just now?”
“Ich, aye,” was the reply. “Jist fire awa’. A’ve marked for your squad
before.”
GIVE AND TAKE
A South African newspaper hears that much badinage by wireless passes
between English officers at Luderitzbucht and the German officers at
Windhuk. The other day, so the story runs, the O. C. German troops at
Windhuk wirelessed down to a certain prominent officer:
“Stop your men playing football and teach them to drill instead;
Kolmanskop will make a good parade ground.”
That night a reconnoitering party went out to Kolmanskop and killed
four Germans and wounded another. Colonel Blank thereupon wirelessed to
Windhuk:
“Took your advice; scored four goals and a try.”
FUN ON THE FIRING-LINE
The course of training for a recruit is not all drudgery. Hardly a day
passes without some amusing incident happening. The following occurred
a few weeks ago in a Territorial regiment.
The day’s programme included practice in passing messages from mouth to
mouth all along the line. In the roar of a battle it is very necessary
that each man should be able to pass on a message which could not be
heard if the officer in charge called it out. The officer got the men
in a firing position and whispered the following message to the man on
the left flank:—
“Left half company commander to right half company commander—ammunition
almost done; let us have more quickly,” and ordered the message to be
passed to the right. In a few minutes he called up the right-flank man
and asked for the message as he received it.
The reply was:—
“Ammunition all gone. God Save the King.”
There was very little order for a few minutes after that.
DOING HIS BIT
Recruiting Sergeant—“Whose are these strapping youths, and why aren’t
they in the army?”
Farmer—“They be my sons, for sure.”
Recruiting Sergeant—“Good heavens, man! Aren’t you doing anything for
your country?”
Farmer—“In coorse I am. I sends two eggs every week to the wounded
soldiers at the horspital.”
WELCOME PRISONERS
A captain of Hussars gave a dinner to the men of his squadron the night
before they left for the front.
“Now, my lads,” he said, “treat this dinner as you will the enemy.”
And they set to with a will.
After dinner he discovered one of the men stowing away bottles of
champagne into a bag, and, highly indignant, he demanded to know what
he meant by such conduct.
“I’m only obeying orders, sir,” said the man.
“Obeying orders!” roared the captain; “what do you mean, sir?”
“You told us to treat the dinner like the enemy, sir, and when we meet
the enemy, sir, those we don’t kill we take prisoners.”
HE KNEW THE ANSWER
One of the best stories of regimental life told by General Sir
Archibald Hunter, the commander of England’s third new army, concerns
a certain “Tommy” who was more noted for his wit than his scholarship.
The man’s grammar and spelling were simply awful, and Sir Archibald was
trying to teach him the King’s English.
“I don’t believe you know what w-o-m-a-n spells,” said he to the
uneducated soldier on one occasion.
“Trouble as a rule, sir,” replied “Tommy,” with a grin.
Hunter was so amused that he was quite unable to reprimand the man for
his “cheek.”
A JOKE IN THE TRENCHES
“Can anny av yer tell me why the Scots are the most humane sojers at
the front?” asked the Irish sergeant, as he set light to his pipe.
“We give it up,” came the ready response from the boys just returned
from the trenches.
“Why, it’s bekase they always carry their kilt aff the field.”
HE KNEW WHERE IT WAS
The drill instructor passed his hand wearily across his forehead. He
had been breaking in some raw recruits and instructing them in the
elements of company drill.
The majority were intelligent fellows, and found no difficulty in
obeying his instructions; but one, in particular, did not seem able to
understand even a simple order.
At last, losing his temper, the drill instructor determined to bring
him to his senses by holding him up to ridicule. Calling him to the
front he proceeded to put him through his paces.
“Eyes front!” he roared.
To everybody’s astonishment the recruit gazed absent-mindedly about him.
“Do you mean to say,” bellowed the instructor, “that you do not know
where your front is?”
“Yes, I know, sir,” he replied.
“Well, then, where is it?” demanded the instructor.
“Please, sir,” he faltered, “it’s gone to the laundry.”
SUPERIOR MARKSMANSHIP
Pat was a witty young recruit, who was taking instruction in
marksmanship. The squad had finished firing. Pat was brought to task
for his poor shooting, and told that he must do better at the next
distance; there were to be seven rounds of quick firing.
“Now, Pat,” the sergeant told him, “fire at target number five.”
Pat banged away, and hit target number four seven times in succession.
“What target did you aim at?” asked the irate officer.
“Number five sor,” answered Pat.
“And you have hit number four every time.”
“Bedad, sor,” retorted Pat, “that would be a grand thing in war. Sure,
I might aim at a private and hit a gin’ral!”
NOT A THIRST IN THE LOT
A soldier, charged with being drunk and disorderly, mentioned, in
extenuation of his offense, the fact that he had been compelled to
travel up from camp in very bad company.
“What sort of company?” asked the magistrate.
“A lot of teetotallers!” was the startling response.
“Do you mean to say teetotallers are bad company?” thundered the
magistrate. “I think they are the best company for such as you!”
“Beggin’ your pardon, sor,” answered the prisoner, “ye’re wrong, for I
had a bottle of whisky and I had to drink it all mesel’.”
HIS SKIRTS CLEAR
A sturdy little Lancashire lad went to a recruiting station to enlist.
He was much disappointed when the officer told him he was too small and
too young.