German soldiers. Force of habit had proved too much for bonds of
discipline.
CHINESE SYMPATHY
The other day a British reservist living in Montreal with his wife and
family received the call to join the colors immediately. He decided
to take his wife and children to England to stay during his absence.
He found the most convenient arrangement would mean leaving Montreal
the following day. But it was midweek, and the family wash was at the
Chinaman’s. The lady went over to the laundry. The “boys” shook their
heads—the wash would not be sorted out before Saturday. But just then
the boss laundry-man came in.
“Your husband going to the war? Velly brave man. Me work all night to
get your laundry.”
Next morning it was brought home by the “boss” himself.
“How much?”
“Nothing. Your husband go to the war. If you stay here all winter me
wash all the clothes for the family. Not a cent.”
GIVING HIM A SEND-OFF
A curious incident was witnessed in a tram-car in a Yorkshire town
a day or two back. Two women were seated side by side in earnest
conversation.
“So tha’s been to see him off?” said one.
“Aye,” replied the other. “Ah’ve been to see him off. Eh, dear, but I
didna know what to say to him. So I says, ‘Well, good-bye, old lad,’ I
says, ’an if tha thoomps t’ Kaiser as tha’s thoomped me he’ll be sorry
he went to war!’”
SHE KNEW BY EXPERIENCE
“Some of our cannon are disappearing,” remarked the lieutenant.
“Well, things will disappear when you have careless help,” responded
the lady who was going over the fort. “I find that a great trouble
about keeping house.”
WHERE WAR IS NOT HELL
Chatty Neighbor—“I suppose you don’t stand for any war arguments among
your boarders?”
Boarding House Mistress—“O, yes. You see, our biggest eater gets so
interested that he forgets to eat and our next biggest eater gets so
mad that he leaves before the meal is half over.”
FEROCITY EXPLAINED
Bill—“I read as ’ow that ’ere ’Indenburg ’as got an English wife.”
Alf—“Ah, that accounts for ’is fightin’ like ’e does.”
COULDN’T BE SCOTCH
Barman—“Strikes me, there’s one o’ these blooming German spies in the
smoke-room, sir. ’E’s bragging about bein’ a Scotsman, and the whisky I
took ’im a quarter of an hour ago ’e ain’t even touched yet.”
HARDLY HIS FAULT
Officer (severely)—“Is this rifle supposed to have been cleaned?”
Recent Recruit—“Well, sir—yes. But you know what these servant gals
are!”
THE GERMANS ABASHED
A British naval officer, home on short leave, told a North Sea story.
“We had taken some prisoners aboard, three of them officers; one of
their torpedoes had missed us by nearly ten feet.
“We made the officers as comfortable as we could, gave them food and
drink, and talked about ordinary general matters; hardly a word was
said about the fight.
“The Germans seemed ill at ease, suspicious. At last one of them said,
‘We don’t understand you treating us like this. We tried to torpedo
you.’
“‘Oh, that’s all right; that’s over now,’ said a navigating lieutenant,
handing him a cigarette.
“‘We’d like to show you that we appreciate your goodness,’ went on the
German.
“There was a long pause. Then the lieutenant burst in with great
cheerfulness, ‘Well, sing us the “Hymn of Hate.”’
“That was one of the rare moments when I have seen German officers look
abashed.”
LOCATING PROGRESS
As a young man was walking along reading the evening newspaper he was
accosted by an old lady who seemed interested in the war.
“Any news from the front, young man?” she exclaimed.
“Not much,” he replied. “Big battle in progress.”
“Well, thank heaven,” she said, “that it’s not in Belgium, where my
poor Johnnie is gone.”
HOW I ESCAPED FROM BERLIN
Supposed to Be Written by Mrs. Malaprop
’Tis very easy to ask me for an account of my escape from Berlin,
but when one has been hustled and fluted and prosecuted as I have,
it is a wonder that one’s brain is not totally disinterred. However,
in spite of my adventitious experiments, I am still, thank heaven!
_compote mentis_, and can give a strictly voracious prescription of my
sufferings. Like Othello, I will “nothing exterminate, nor set up aught
in malice.”
You may require what I was doing in the great Prussian necropolis. The
fact is that after the fatigues of the season I found myself somewhat
interposed. I am the last person to give way to a fit of the vapors,
but my enemy, the gout, had made such invidious advances and become so
chromatic that I was advised to go and reciprocate under the care of
a prominent Berlin physician. Despite the diversion which I naturally
feel for all Germans, I must admit that his treatment and regiment
proved beneficent—though his fees were exuberant—and I was rapidly
recovering when the declaration of war burst upon us like a cataplasm.
Berlin was at once in a state of convolution. The streets were crowded
with people in a very succulent humor, waving flags, singing typical
songs, and shouting remarks which deluded recognition, as my knowledge
of the language is merely superfluous. Any attempt at leaving the house
was not only fertile but periculous, as Englishmen were subjugated to
various forms of contumacy, either because the police were useless or
with their secret contrivance.
I protest I never saw such a panharmonium! Foreign residents had
their windows stoned, and abstained many cuts and confusions from
the missals. The proprietor of our boarding-house was not actually
indolent, but treated me in a very caviare manner, advising me to
speak no English. Even neuters, he told me, were being distrained to
stimulate a factious enthusiasm for the Kaiser.
Next day an official arrived. He asked me if I was English. “Sir,”
I replied, “I am no camellia, changing my colors to suit my
surroundings.” I think he hardly depreciated my semaphore; he merely
told me to pack my trunks in readiness to leave Berlin at a certain
hour next day. After another sleepless night passed in anxious
participations, four of us were convoyed to the station in a closed
vehicle and left for hours on a platform crowded to supplication with
fugitives. Some of the women wept quietly, while others gave way to
historical outbursts. They gave us nothing but water, and I was induced
to eating some digestible chocolate caravans produced by my maid.
At last the aliens’ train arrived; but we were at the back of the
crowd, and you may imagine my constellation when I discovered that
every department had its full quotient of passengers. Seizing a
passing official, I exclaimed: “Thou transcendental Triton, is
it thus that the confidential visitors, whose gold gorges the
coffins of thy treasury, and who patiently suffer the ubiquitous
distortions of thy greedy countrymen, are rewarded? Fie, sir! It is
larceny—tyranny—barometry of the vilest conscription!”
He seemed puzzled, and said, roughly: “Are you Suffer-gette?”
“Sir,” I replied, “I will endure no more obliquity. I will say no more.
I refuse to omit another syllabus.”
He called another official, and after a long discursion, during which
they regarded me very strangely, frequently tapping their foreheads,
they had a horse-box corrected to the train, into which my maid and I
were inducted, attended by a German female. I passed the journey in
a sort of comma, and eventually reached England, which it is my firm
resolution never to leave again.
PERMANENTLY POSTPONED
The Irish Guards were holding a position at Ypres, and flying bullets
were the order of the day. The Germans endeavored to break through, and
after a particularly brisk volley Private Flynn was heard to shout:—
“Murder of wars, I’m done now altogether!”
“Why, have you been hit?” shouts Captain P——.
“Not entoirely hit, sir,” shouts Flynn; “but I’ve been waiting this ten
minutes for a smoke from Murtagh’s pipe, and by the powers they’ve just
shot it out iv his mouth.”
UNINTENTIONAL LIMITATION
The vicar of S—— is very patriotic, and has done a great deal of
recruiting in his own and the adjoining parishes. He is also very
absent-minded. This was never so forcibly brought home to him as on
the occasion of the young squire’s wedding. The squire’s regiment was
leaving almost immediately for the front, consequently the wedding
attracted more than ordinary interest, and the little church was
crowded to its utmost capacity.
The ceremony proceeded without a hitch, the momentous words had been
spoken by the vicar, and repeated by the bridegroom ... “take thee,
Phyllis, to my wedded wife,” when the congregation were astounded by
the next words from the vicar, “for three years or the duration of the
war.”
NOTHING NEW TO HIM
It was company field-training. The captain saw a young soldier trying
to cook his breakfast with a badly-made fire. Going to him, he showed
him how to make a quick-cooking fire, saying:
“Look at the time you are wasting. When I was on the West Coast I often
had to hunt my breakfast. I used to go about two miles in the jungle,
shoot my food, skin or pluck it, then cook and eat it, and return to
the camp under the half-hour.” Then he unwisely added, “Of course, you
have heard of the West Coast?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the young soldier, “and also of Ananias and Baron
Munchausen, too.”
ENGLISH HUMOR
Bill—“Have you heard about the Prince of Wales?”
Nell—“No. What of His Royal Highness?”
Bill—“Well, he had a fall, and remained unconscious for some hours.”
Nell—“Oh, poor Prince!”
Bill—“But I am happy to say when His Royal Highness came to himself he
was none the worse.”
Nell—“How did it happen?”
Bill—“In this way (not officially denied): It was very late on Monday;
he fell—asleep in his bed!”
NOT A CARUSO
“Proud of ’im, I am,” announced an old lady, whose son had just
enlisted, to a knot of friends in the village street. “Always done ’is
duty by me, ’e ’as, an’ now ’e’s doin’ ’is duty by King an’ country. I
feel right down sorry for them poor Germans to think of ’im goin’ into
battle with ’is rifle in ’is ’and an’ ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ on
’is lips.”
“Poor Germans, indeed!” exclaimed one of her audience. “Pity’s wasted
on ’em. P’r’aps you ’aven’t ’eard of their cruelties?”
“P’r’aps I ’aven’t,” agreed the old lady, “an’ p’r’aps you ’aven’t
’eard George sing!”
IN WAR TIME
Short-sighted Customer—“Aren’t you making your rolls a little larger
these days, Mr. Baker?”
“What! R-r-rolls? Them’s loaves!”
GAVE THE SNAP AWAY
Amongst some recruits waiting to be passed by the doctor for a Tyneside
battalion was a miner from a local colliery, a fine strapping youth.
After a good many had been examined, it came to Geordie’s turn, and
everyone present thought him a likely recruit. The doctor, after
looking at Geordie’s teeth, remarked sadly:—
“I’m sorry, my lad, I cannot pass you; your teeth are too bad.”
“Wey, if this isn’t a licker,” replied Geordie. “Ye passed th’ same
teeth yisterday wi’ Bill Smith, an’ we both borrowed them.”
WITHOUT PRECEDENT
A certain Yorkshire soldier, who was badly wounded in the jaw at Mons
by a German bullet, was, on his return home, relating to an interested
group how his company tackled the enemy when the order to charge was
given.
“Bullets was flyin’ like snowflakes,” he said; “an’ lots o’ our chaps
was hit.”
“Weel, Tommy,” interrupted one of his listeners, “couldn’t ye hear t’
bullets whizzin’ an’ makin’ a noise as they was comin’ along, an’ so be
able to get out o’ their way?”
Tommy gave the inquirer a withering look, then replied:
“Nay, lad, we couldn’t hear ’em comin’, becos them bullets was Dum-Dum
’uns; an’ did anybody ever hear of aught that was dumb makin’ a noise?”
AN AGREEABLE MISTAKE
The soldier of four months was recounting his experience of “living on
the country” in an Eastern county. He and a comrade had been dispatched
with a motor-car to perform a certain mission. After traveling a
considerable distance they sighted an inn sign, and, running the car
into the yard at the rear, alighted and entered by a back door. A
picturesque dame appeared, to whom the bluff and hearty spokesman said:
“Now, mother, is there anything to eat?”
“Well, you can have some nice cold beef, and if you like to wait half
an hour I’ll cook you some potatoes and a cauliflower.”
“Ah! Worth waiting for, that is, mother! Right-o!” said the soldier.
She smiled approvingly, and told them to go into her own parlor. In
due course they were bidden to the feast, over which they were glad to
have her preside, for she talked very entertainingly. Eventually the
spokesman broached the question of payment.
“Now, then, mother, how much do we owe you, please?”
“Oh, nothing! I’m sure I’ve been very glad to have you.”
“But, look here! I’d never have come in ordering stuff to eat without
expecting to pay for it. You know you can’t keep a ‘pub.’ open on
dinners for naught! Now, can you, mother?”
“No, I can’t, my dear lad! I don’t try to. This isn’t the pub. It’s the
house next door!”
INCONSIDERATE BEGGAR
“What do you think?” exclaimed Mrs. Twobble. “While the Belgian Relief
Committee was holding an important meeting yesterday afternoon in my
drawing-room a ragged woman came to the house and asked for food. She
had a baby in her arms, too!”
“What did you do?” asked Mrs. Gadson.
“Sent her about her business, of course! I was reading my report to the
committee and had no time to bother with stray beggars.”
WHAT THE PILOT KNEW
Owing to the safeguards which the Admiralty have placed at the
entrance to all large British seaports, it is now compulsory for
all outward-bound and incoming vessels to be under the charge of a
Government pilot.
A few weeks ago a Sunderland collier was anchored outside the Humber
waiting for his pilot, and incidentally chafing at the delay.
Eventually the pilot was shipped and the safe channel entered for Hull,
when the captain rather sarcastically remarked: “Do you know where the
mines are?”
“No,” replied the pilot, “I do not.”
“What! you’ve taken over my ship and you don’t know? Well, I might just
as well have brought the ship in myself.”
The pilot smiled indulgently upon the enraged skipper and said: “Aye,
captain, ’tis true I don’t know where the mines are, but I know where
they are not.”
IT WORKED ALL RIGHT
All the work was mapped out for the new charwoman, but about the
appointed time she arrived in tears.
“My poor ’usband was shot in the battle,” she said, “and ’e’s passed
away.”
The employer was all sympathy, gave the widow the half-crown she ought
to have earned, and did the necessary work herself.
The next day she met the neighbor who recommended the woman, and said:
“You’ve heard, I suppose, about Mrs. W.’s husband being killed?”
“Yes,” said her friend. “But she ought to have got over it by now. It
was in the Boer war.”
GERMAN GIRLS CAN KNIT
A certain Landwehrman had received his hundredth pair of warm woolen
stockings knit by fair hands.
“Fritz must be a regular Don Juan,” said one of his less fortunate
comrades.
“No,” said another, a fellow-townsman of the accused. “No, it isn’t
that. The fact is, Fritz, before the war came, was teacher in a girls’
school.”
BLOCKHEAD, EH?
Sergeant—“Now, then, don’t you know how to hold a rifle?”
Recruit—“I’ve run a splinter in me finger.”
Sergeant (exasperated)—“Oh, you ’ave, ’ave you? Bin scratchin’ yer
’ead, I suppose?”
HIS SOLE REASON
As the sergeant was bawling out his orders and watching the line of
feet as the raw recruits endeavored to obey the word of command, he
found to his astonishment that one pair of feet—more noticeable on
account of their extra large size—never turned.
Without taking his eyes off these feet the sergeant bawled out, “About
turn!”
He could see that all the feet except those he watched turned in
obedience. Rushing up to the owner, a little fellow, he seized him by
the shoulder, shouting:
“Why don’t you turn with the rest?”
“Why, I did,” replied the trembling recruit.
“You did, eh? Well, I watched your feet, and they never moved.”
“It’s the boots they gave me, sir,” said the poor fellow. “They’re so
large that when I turn my feet turns in them.”
IGNORANCE IS BLISS
The two servants met in the tram.
“Does this war they’re talking so much about make much difference to
you?”
“The missus says we’ve got to economize, so we’ve to have margarine at
meals in the kitchen.”
“Doesn’t she have it, then?”
“Not her. She says it doesn’t suit her digestion. But there’s nothing
wrong with her digestion. We know that. For as often as not we send her
up the margarine and have the butter ourselves.”
STROKE OF LUCK
A story is current that a certain colonel of a British regiment offered
to give a sovereign for every German killed by any of his men.
It happened shortly after this that a sergeant and a private were out
spying around, and took different points for observation.
After a while the private crawled up to the sergeant with a look of
suppressed excitement on his face, and in a tense whisper said:
“Here’s a fine piece of luck for us, sergeant! There’s four thousand
Germans over yonder, and there’s only you and me for ’em. Won’t we rake
some quids in now?”
SPECIMEN WANTED
Mr. Horace Wyndham has published a book on his military experiences, in
which he quotes the reply of an Egyptian clerk to a demand for 1,000
rations for a Middlesex Regiment.
“Honorable Sir—Estimable telegram to hand, but not understood. Male sex
I know well; ditto female sex. Middlesex, however, not familiar. Please
send specimen.”
A LONE EXCEPTION
He was a new recruit home on leave.
“Halloa,” said a friend, “how are you going on? Applied for a
commission yet?”
“Not me. All the rest in my battalion are sending in their names, I
think; but I say that a regiment needs at least one regular, steady
private.”
CLEVER EXPEDIENT
During a sham fight which constituted part of a certain infantry
battalion’s training for the war a company was told off to follow up
the retreating “enemy.” For this purpose the pursuers, who had been
having a strenuous time, had to cross a fairly wide river, and were
marched to the nearest bridge, which was about four miles away. Imagine
their disappointment on arriving to find this notice attached to the
bridge by the “enemy:”
“This bridge is blown up.”
But the officer in command of the pursuers was a man of action,
and promptly attached another notice to one of his leading men and
proceeded to march them across the bridge. They had almost crossed it,
when an umpire suddenly appeared, frantically waving his hands and
exclaiming:
“This bridge is blown up; all these men are drowned!”
The commanding officer made no reply, but simply pointed to his notice,
which read:
“This company is swimming across!”
WHICH WOULD YOU PATRONIZE?
It was Saturday night, and the rival butchers were shouting against
each other.
“’Ere’s a piece of beef,” shouted one, “any price yer like. No war
prices here.”
The other was equal to the occasion.
“Come ’ere,” he shouted. “Don’t ’ave piece at any price; have piece
with honor.”
SARCASTIC OLD VET.
A man in the Veteran Reserves was called up recently.
After a week at his new quarters he was brought up before the officer
commanding for not cleaning his rifle one day. Said the officer
commanding:—
“Hem, you’re an old soldier re-enlisted, I see. I suppose it will be
many years ago since you were reprimanded? What was your last offence?
Can you remember what it was?”
Old Soldier (with irony on account of the repeated assertions to his
age): “For not cleanin’ me bow an’ arrow, sir!”
BROTHERLY REPARTEE
A cricket match was taking place near a German internment camp. Many
were the comments on the game.
One of the British soldiers who had taken part in the game turned to a
German officer, and asked what he thought of the game and the British
cricketers.
“Oh,” he said, “they’re very good, but we Germans can beat you on the
battlefield.”
“Oh, I suppose you get the most ‘runs’ there!” said the soldier.
MADE IN GERMANY
Chaplain (in French town near the Front)—“I have been working so hard
of late that I feel rather run down. I must try a tonic.”
Soldier—“Why not try a glass of lager?”
Chaplain (badly shocked)—“Oh, that’s Teutonic!”
WOLSELEY’S WAY
One of the neatest stories of how a military officer can do the right
thing without sacrifice of dignity is related of the man who afterwards
became Commander-in-Chief of the British Army. He was sitting in a
high-toned tap-room of Dublin, where privates were not permitted the
privilege of the bar. Two finely-built men of a dragoon regiment,
wearing long-service stripes, entered and called for drinks, which were
curtly refused them. They turned without a word and were retiring in
good order.
“Halt!” came sharply from the officer in civilian’s clothes. From sheer
force of habit the soldiers obeyed and faced about.
“I can purchase what I want here, I suppose?” said the officer as he
advanced to the bar.
“Certainly, sir.”
“Then serve these two gentlemen with what they want,” and there was a
pleasant emphasis on the title. “Gentlemen, will you drink with me?”
“With pleasure, sir,” and the happy compact was carried out. Then the
dragoons courteously inquired the name of the gentleman who had thrown
out the life-line, as it were.
“My name is Wolseley—Colonel Wolseley,” with a smile.
Two pairs of heels went together with a click, two brawny arms went up
in salute, and the soldiers departed amid the applause of all who had
witnessed the scene.
IGNORED HIMSELF
During camp parade of the buglers the other day an Irish corporal was
in charge. He was asked by the C. O. if all the buglers were present,
when he replied:
“No, sorr; one man absent.”
“Well, then,” said the C. O.; “go and find him, and ask what he has to
say for himself.”
A few minutes later Pat came running back, and shouted:
“Shure, sorr, and weren’t we a pair of duffers not to know it? It wor
meself. Bedad, sorr, Oi forgot to call me own name, entoirely, sorr!”
ANOTHER ANXIETY
“I have some astonishing news for you, Maria,” said Brown. “In addition
to the war, England is on the eve of a great strike, in which thousands
upon thousands of hands will be involved.”
“What a dreadful thing!” ejaculated his unsuspecting victim. “When is
it to take place?”
“This very night, my dear,” answered Brown, gravely. “At midnight
thousands of clock hands will point to the hour, and it will strike
twelve.”
ONE QUALIFICATION
Visitor (leaving inn, after sleepless night): “I suppose you don’t
happen to be a German?”
Landlord: “Do I look like it?”
Visitor: “No; but I thought I’d just ask, because my room last night
had a concrete bed in it.”
GREAT DEEDS I HAVE DONE IN THE GREAT WAR
Supposed to Be Written by an Old British Soldier After the Style of
Baron Munchausen
I venture to set down some of my deeds in the great war, both as a
proof of my courage and veracity, and in order to demonstrate the value
of resourcefulness in the conduct of military adventures.
Our company—I being then a private—disembarked at ——, in France, and
were at once sent to the front. I was immediately selected to go out
for the purpose of obtaining information of the enemy’s movements, and
I set out determined to perform that task at all costs. Unfortunately
a Taube aeroplane scouting overhead espied me, despite my disguise—a
small hayrick on my hat—and dropped a bomb, which, though failing to
strike me, burst near with such force that it blew me into the air
about twenty feet high, and the Taube swooping down, its pilot caught
me by the breeches with a hook suspended on a rope. I hung beneath that
aeroplane for three days, with a most exhausting backache, and it was
not till the night of the third day that I succeeded in climbing up the
rope and killing the pilot; but then, the petrol being all consumed,
I was obliged to land in the German lines. There I was captured, and
forced to remain in the firing-line. This, however, proved to be my
good fortune, for, determined to perform my task, I had recourse to
a most extraordinary ruse to escape. As soon as I was unobserved, I
twined myself about a big shell, and was put into the gun at the next
loading. The shot was a good one, and, rendered invisible by the dense
smoke, I rode on the shell across the German and British lines, and
landed safely at the feet of my general, whom I was able to supply
with valuable information. For this deed I was awarded the D. S. O.
(Distinguished Suspension Order).