Funny Stories Told by the Soldiers, Page 3
Carleton B. Case
On beds of straw, I’ve slept in sheds Wi nae bed at a’.
I’m sleeping now On a stretcher of wire, And I pray my last sleep Will be near a fire.
I’m tired of the wet, The mud, and the cold, And I won’t be sorry When I sleep in the Fold.
“‘Taps,’ Bon swear, ”As usual, “HUMBLEHOOF.”
THIS PLEASED THE COLONEL
The sergeant halted the new sentry opposite the man he was to relieve.
“Give over your orders,” he said.
The old sentry reeled off the routine instructions with confidence, butone of the special orders baffled him.
“Come on, man!” said the sergeant impatiently.
“On no account,” stammered the sentry, “are you to let any questionablecharacter pass the lines, except the colonel’s wife.”
DID THE CHAPLAIN SWEAR?
Recently, during the operations of the British Egyptian expeditionaryforce in Palestine, a town to the south of Beersheba was captured, andin it was discovered a splendid example of mosaic pavement.
The excavation of it was placed in charge of a chaplain, and while thework was proceeding some human bones were discovered.
Elated at the find, the padre immediately wired to great headquarters,saying:
“Have found the bones of saint.”
Shortly after the reply came back:
“Unable to trace Saint in casualty list. Obtain particulars ofregimental number and regiment from his identity disk.”
ONE SWEET KISS LOST
Before introducing Lieutenant de Tassan, aid to General Joffre, andColonel Fabry, the “Blue Devil of France,” Chairman Spencer, of theSt. Louis entertainment committee, at the M. A. A. breakfast told thisanecdote:
“In Washington Lieutenant de Tassan was approached by a pretty Americangirl, who said:
“‘And did you kill a German soldier?’
“‘Yes,’ he replied.
“‘With what hand did you do it?’ she inquired.
“‘With this right hand,’ he said.
“And then the pretty American girl seized his right hand and kissedit. Colonel Fabry stood near by. He strode over and said to Lieutenantde Tassan:
“‘Heavens, man, why didn’t you tell the young lady you bit him todeath?’”
A COINCIDENCE OF WAR
The commandant of one of the great French army supply depots wasbusy one morning. He was a man of forty; a colonel in the regularFrench army. He was talking to an American colonel when an erect,sturdy-looking man with white hair and mustache and who wore the singlestar of a subaltern on his sleeve came up, saluted, delivered a messageand then asked:
“Are there any more orders, sir?”
When he was told that there were none he brought his heels togetherwith a click, saluted again and went away.
The commandant turned to the American with a peculiar smile on his faceand asked:
“Do you know who that man is?”
“No,” was the reply.
“That is my father,” was the answer.
The father was then exactly seventy-two years old. He was a retiredbusiness man when the war broke out. After two years of the heroicstruggle he decided that he couldn’t keep out of it. He was too old tofight, but after long insistence he secured a commission. By one of themany curious coincidences of war he was assigned to serve under hisson.
GERMAN PAPERS, PLEASE NOTE
The following is posted on the door of a deserted cabin in Coos County,Oregon:
“To whom it may concern:
“There’s potatoes in the wood-shed, There’s flour in the bin, There’s beans a-plenty in the cupboard, To waste them is a sin. Go to it neighbor if you’re hungry! Fill up while you’ve a chance, For I’m going after the Kaiser, Somewhere over in France.
“L. A. JOHNSON, ”Alias, Charley the Trapper.“
UNANIMOUS
We should like to print this story in letters of gold, says the LondonTit-Bits. It is of a colonel on the British front who wanted twenty mento face almost certain death.
He called the whole company together and made the situation clear tothem. Then he asked for twenty volunteers to advance one pace. He lovedhis men, and it was almost more than he could bear. He closed hiseyes to keep back his tears, and when he opened them the men stood inexactly the same formation. He was pained.
“Is there not one volunteer?” he asked.
A sergeant stepped forward at salute. “Every one has advanced one pace,sir,” he said.
PA WAS THE GENERAL
The young subaltern, who was a son of a general and never omitted torub in that fact, was taking a message from the general to the gunners.
“If you please,” he said to the major, “father says will you move yourguns.” The major was in an irate mood. “Oh!” he rejoined, “and what theblazes does your mother say?”
TOUGH ON GOMPERS
Kerensky kissed Arthur Henderson, the British labor politician, as theAmerican Labor Mission calls him, and all England gasped. Kerensky iscoming to this country. He may want to kiss Secretary Wilson or evenPresident Wilson. This has led an anonymous poet to suggest that thePresident put his greetings into a song, and to furnish him with thesong, as follows:
“Salute me only with thy fist, And don’t attempt to buss me; The very thought of being kissed Is quite enough to fuss me. If you must kiss, try it on Gompers— He hasn’t been kissed since he wore rompers.”
HAD THE RIGHT DOPE
The more things the draft officials do to baseball here the better itflourishes in London, according to Richard Hatteras, of that thrivingcommunity, who was recently in New York. Mr. Hatteras says the game isgetting a firm hold on every nationality in the British capital.
“Why, recently,” quoth he, “I saw a game in which East Indians wereplaying. One of these approached the plate at a crucial moment andcried aloud:
“‘Allah, give thou me strength to make a hit.’
“He struck out.
“The next man up was an Irishman. He spat on the plate, made faces atthe pitcher, and yelled:
“‘You know me, Al!’ He made a home-run.”
TELL THIS NOT IN BOSTON
An American boy had his first experience in the first line of trenchesunder fire, and an American woman met him.
“Well, boy,” asked the woman, “what was it like? Pretty awfulexperience, wasn’t it?”
“Awful?” grinned the Sammee. “Funniest thing you ever saw.”
“Funny?” echoed the woman, amazed. “Why, what in the world do you mean?”
“Those beans! Why——” and he went off into a gale of laughter. “Ofcourse you don’t know. But cook had made an enormous pot of beans forthe boys and, say, they did smell some good. But they were too hot andso cook put them on the edge of the trench to cool off. Just then theGermans let go some shells and one hit that pot square. And it didn’tdo anything to those beans. Honestly, ma’am, it simply rained beans foran hour!”
THE MESSAGE WAS SOBER, ANYHOW
General Sir Henry Rawlinson, Sir Douglas Haig’s “right-hand man,” israther fond of relating a story concerning a major who, sent to inspectan outlying fort, found the commander intoxicated. He immediatelylocked him up; but the bibulous one managed to escape, and, making hisway to the nearest telegraph office, dispatched the following messageto no less a personage than the colonial secretary: “Man here, named——, questions my sobriety. Wire to avert bloodshed.”
HE HADN’T FINISHED
They had brought him in very carefully, the husky but femininely gentlestretcher bearers, for he was nothing but a kid after all, with acomplexion like a girl’s and with pathetically pleading eyes. He wascrying in his hospital bed when the correspondent came across him andstopped to investigate.
“Ar
e you in great pain?” the newspaper man sympathetically asked.
The lad looked into the other’s eyes and nodded with a choking sob.
“Where does it hurt?” the correspondent pursued.
“It ain’t that,” was the reply; “it’s because they yanked me out of thescrap when I still had ten rounds left.”
THE OOZING OF THE COONS
Negro Sergeant—“When I say ‘’Bout face!’ you place de toe of yo’ rightfoot six inches to de reah of de heel of yo’ left foot and jus’ oozearoun’.”
SHE WAS IN UNIFORM
First Officer (in spasm of jealousy)—“Who’s the knock-kneed chap withyour sister, old man?”
Second Officer—“My other sister.”
NO CHALLENGING OUT OF HIS CLASS
Sergeant (surprising sentry)—“Why didn’t you challenge that man whojust passed?”
Newest Recruit—“Why, that’s Kayo Hogan, sergeant, and he’s got all o’ten pounds on me!”
CALLING HIM SISSY?
The Fag—“Oh, I’d go to the war quick enough, but mother wouldn’t likeme to; and I’ve never disappointed her since the day I was born.”
The Snag—“Well, if she was hoping for a daughter, I’m sure you’ve doneyour best to console her.”
HOW DISAPPOINTED HE’LL BE
Scotch Warrior
I’m sleeping now On a stretcher of wire, And I pray my last sleep Will be near a fire.
I’m tired of the wet, The mud, and the cold, And I won’t be sorry When I sleep in the Fold.
“‘Taps,’ Bon swear, ”As usual, “HUMBLEHOOF.”
THIS PLEASED THE COLONEL
The sergeant halted the new sentry opposite the man he was to relieve.
“Give over your orders,” he said.
The old sentry reeled off the routine instructions with confidence, butone of the special orders baffled him.
“Come on, man!” said the sergeant impatiently.
“On no account,” stammered the sentry, “are you to let any questionablecharacter pass the lines, except the colonel’s wife.”
DID THE CHAPLAIN SWEAR?
Recently, during the operations of the British Egyptian expeditionaryforce in Palestine, a town to the south of Beersheba was captured, andin it was discovered a splendid example of mosaic pavement.
The excavation of it was placed in charge of a chaplain, and while thework was proceeding some human bones were discovered.
Elated at the find, the padre immediately wired to great headquarters,saying:
“Have found the bones of saint.”
Shortly after the reply came back:
“Unable to trace Saint in casualty list. Obtain particulars ofregimental number and regiment from his identity disk.”
ONE SWEET KISS LOST
Before introducing Lieutenant de Tassan, aid to General Joffre, andColonel Fabry, the “Blue Devil of France,” Chairman Spencer, of theSt. Louis entertainment committee, at the M. A. A. breakfast told thisanecdote:
“In Washington Lieutenant de Tassan was approached by a pretty Americangirl, who said:
“‘And did you kill a German soldier?’
“‘Yes,’ he replied.
“‘With what hand did you do it?’ she inquired.
“‘With this right hand,’ he said.
“And then the pretty American girl seized his right hand and kissedit. Colonel Fabry stood near by. He strode over and said to Lieutenantde Tassan:
“‘Heavens, man, why didn’t you tell the young lady you bit him todeath?’”
A COINCIDENCE OF WAR
The commandant of one of the great French army supply depots wasbusy one morning. He was a man of forty; a colonel in the regularFrench army. He was talking to an American colonel when an erect,sturdy-looking man with white hair and mustache and who wore the singlestar of a subaltern on his sleeve came up, saluted, delivered a messageand then asked:
“Are there any more orders, sir?”
When he was told that there were none he brought his heels togetherwith a click, saluted again and went away.
The commandant turned to the American with a peculiar smile on his faceand asked:
“Do you know who that man is?”
“No,” was the reply.
“That is my father,” was the answer.
The father was then exactly seventy-two years old. He was a retiredbusiness man when the war broke out. After two years of the heroicstruggle he decided that he couldn’t keep out of it. He was too old tofight, but after long insistence he secured a commission. By one of themany curious coincidences of war he was assigned to serve under hisson.
GERMAN PAPERS, PLEASE NOTE
The following is posted on the door of a deserted cabin in Coos County,Oregon:
“To whom it may concern:
“There’s potatoes in the wood-shed, There’s flour in the bin, There’s beans a-plenty in the cupboard, To waste them is a sin. Go to it neighbor if you’re hungry! Fill up while you’ve a chance, For I’m going after the Kaiser, Somewhere over in France.
“L. A. JOHNSON, ”Alias, Charley the Trapper.“
UNANIMOUS
We should like to print this story in letters of gold, says the LondonTit-Bits. It is of a colonel on the British front who wanted twenty mento face almost certain death.
He called the whole company together and made the situation clear tothem. Then he asked for twenty volunteers to advance one pace. He lovedhis men, and it was almost more than he could bear. He closed hiseyes to keep back his tears, and when he opened them the men stood inexactly the same formation. He was pained.
“Is there not one volunteer?” he asked.
A sergeant stepped forward at salute. “Every one has advanced one pace,sir,” he said.
PA WAS THE GENERAL
The young subaltern, who was a son of a general and never omitted torub in that fact, was taking a message from the general to the gunners.
“If you please,” he said to the major, “father says will you move yourguns.” The major was in an irate mood. “Oh!” he rejoined, “and what theblazes does your mother say?”
TOUGH ON GOMPERS
Kerensky kissed Arthur Henderson, the British labor politician, as theAmerican Labor Mission calls him, and all England gasped. Kerensky iscoming to this country. He may want to kiss Secretary Wilson or evenPresident Wilson. This has led an anonymous poet to suggest that thePresident put his greetings into a song, and to furnish him with thesong, as follows:
“Salute me only with thy fist, And don’t attempt to buss me; The very thought of being kissed Is quite enough to fuss me. If you must kiss, try it on Gompers— He hasn’t been kissed since he wore rompers.”
HAD THE RIGHT DOPE
The more things the draft officials do to baseball here the better itflourishes in London, according to Richard Hatteras, of that thrivingcommunity, who was recently in New York. Mr. Hatteras says the game isgetting a firm hold on every nationality in the British capital.
“Why, recently,” quoth he, “I saw a game in which East Indians wereplaying. One of these approached the plate at a crucial moment andcried aloud:
“‘Allah, give thou me strength to make a hit.’
“He struck out.
“The next man up was an Irishman. He spat on the plate, made faces atthe pitcher, and yelled:
“‘You know me, Al!’ He made a home-run.”
TELL THIS NOT IN BOSTON
An American boy had his first experience in the first line of trenchesunder fire, and an American woman met him.
“Well, boy,” asked the woman, “what was it like? Pretty awfulexperience, wasn’t it?”
“Awful?” grinned the Sammee. “Funniest thing you ever saw.”
“Funny?” echoed the woman, amazed. “Why, what in the world do you mean?”
“Those beans! Why——” and he went off into a gale of laughter. “Ofcourse you don’t know. But cook had made an enormous pot of beans forthe boys and, say, they did smell some good. But they were too hot andso cook put them on the edge of the trench to cool off. Just then theGermans let go some shells and one hit that pot square. And it didn’tdo anything to those beans. Honestly, ma’am, it simply rained beans foran hour!”
THE MESSAGE WAS SOBER, ANYHOW
General Sir Henry Rawlinson, Sir Douglas Haig’s “right-hand man,” israther fond of relating a story concerning a major who, sent to inspectan outlying fort, found the commander intoxicated. He immediatelylocked him up; but the bibulous one managed to escape, and, making hisway to the nearest telegraph office, dispatched the following messageto no less a personage than the colonial secretary: “Man here, named——, questions my sobriety. Wire to avert bloodshed.”
HE HADN’T FINISHED
They had brought him in very carefully, the husky but femininely gentlestretcher bearers, for he was nothing but a kid after all, with acomplexion like a girl’s and with pathetically pleading eyes. He wascrying in his hospital bed when the correspondent came across him andstopped to investigate.
“Ar
e you in great pain?” the newspaper man sympathetically asked.
The lad looked into the other’s eyes and nodded with a choking sob.
“Where does it hurt?” the correspondent pursued.
“It ain’t that,” was the reply; “it’s because they yanked me out of thescrap when I still had ten rounds left.”
THE OOZING OF THE COONS
Negro Sergeant—“When I say ‘’Bout face!’ you place de toe of yo’ rightfoot six inches to de reah of de heel of yo’ left foot and jus’ oozearoun’.”
SHE WAS IN UNIFORM
First Officer (in spasm of jealousy)—“Who’s the knock-kneed chap withyour sister, old man?”
Second Officer—“My other sister.”
NO CHALLENGING OUT OF HIS CLASS
Sergeant (surprising sentry)—“Why didn’t you challenge that man whojust passed?”
Newest Recruit—“Why, that’s Kayo Hogan, sergeant, and he’s got all o’ten pounds on me!”
CALLING HIM SISSY?
The Fag—“Oh, I’d go to the war quick enough, but mother wouldn’t likeme to; and I’ve never disappointed her since the day I was born.”
The Snag—“Well, if she was hoping for a daughter, I’m sure you’ve doneyour best to console her.”
HOW DISAPPOINTED HE’LL BE
Scotch Warrior
