Читать книгу: «Funny Stories Told by the Soldiers», страница 4
ANYTHING TO GET AWAY
A soldier was pleading with his O. C.
“You are always on leave,” exclaimed the officer. “What on earth do you want special leave for now?”
“My sister’s baby going to be vaccinated, sir.”
“And what has that got to do with you?”
“She’s my sister, sir,” explained Tommy, with a hurt look.
“What, the baby?”
“No, sir, the baby’s sister’s my brother – I mean I’m the mother’s baby – er – the father’s my sister. No, I mean – ”
“You mean,” broke in the O. C., angrily. “What do they want you for? That is the point.”
“For a godmother, sir.”
NATURALLY WISHED TO SEE HER
Private McGuire, lying in hospital, was very fractious. He pointedly refused to take a second dose of medicine, which was inordinately nasty. Several smiling nurses bent over him and urged him to be good.
“Come,” pleaded one, “drink this and you’ll get well.”
“And rosy, too!” chimed in a second.
M’Guire visibly brightened, and actually sat up in bed.
After surveying the pretty group, he inquired, eagerly, “What wan o’ yez is Rosy?”
ZEPPELINITIS
Mr. Meek was not very well, and the doctor had advised him to take a glass of beer occasionally “for his stomach’s sake.”
“It can’t be done, doctor; it can’t be done,” said Mr. Meek. “Although there is a barrel of beer in the cellar, my wife insists on my being teetotal for the duration of the war.”
“Tut, tut,” said the doctor, as he took his leave; “you must invent a way to overcome your wife’s scruples; an easy matter enough, surely?”
A few days later the medical man received a visit from Mrs. Meek, who was greatly concerned as to the state of her husband’s health. “I am afraid, doctor,” she said, “that the poor man has had a nervous breakdown. He’s continually fancying that he can hear Zeppelins, and goes to hide in the cellar; besides which he often appears to be somewhat strange and aggressive in his manner.”
PALESTINE VS. PURGATORY
In a small village in Ireland the mother of a soldier met the village priest, who asked her if she had had bad news.
“Shure, I have,” she said. “Pat has been killed.”
“Oh, I am very sorry,” said the priest. “Did you receive word from the War Office?”
“No,” she said, “I received word from himself.”
The priest looked perplexed, and said, “But how is that?”
“Shure,” she said, “here is the letter, read it for yourself.”
The letter said: “Dear Mother – I am now in the Holy Land.”
DON’T ALL SPEAK AT ONCE
The American Red Cross has inaugurated so many different kinds of bureaus since its arrival in France, that it is difficult to enumerate them or to know what their duties consist of, but its newest bureau, according to the last issue of the Bulletin, appears to be dabbling in matrimonial matters. The following paragraph is taken from the Red Cross Bulletin, showing that anything might be called for at the headquarters:
“Wanted – An American husband.”
“No kidding. It’s a fact. If you are an eligible young man of American nationality who wants a wife but cannot find anybody that wants to marry you, apply to the office of the Secretary General.
“The office of the Secretary General has not become a matrimonial agency, but received a letter from a French woman in which the writer extolled her excellent qualities and asked that she be found an American husband.”
WELL SEASONED
A soldier in hospital, on recovering consciousness, said:
“Nurse, what is this on my head?”
“Vinegar cloths,” she replied. “You have had fever.” After a pause.
“And what is this on my chest?”
“A mustard-plaster. You have had pneumonia.”
“And what is this at my feet?”
“Salt-bags; you have had frost-bite.”
A soldier from the next bed looked up and said:
“Hang the pepper-box to his nose, nurse, then he will be a cruet.”
NOT TO BE DONE
A certain soldier always looked on the dark side of things. One day a friend tried to cheer him.
“Why don’t you do as the song says, ‘Pack all your troubles in your old kitbag, and smile, smile, smile’?”
“I tried that once,” he said, sadly, “but the Quartermaster didn’t have enough kitbags.”
UNCERTAIN TRAIN SCHEDULE
A soldier was waiting for the Muddleton train, the only one of the day. After he had waited for an unreasonable time the porter hove in sight.
“How long will I have to wait,” the soldier asked, “for that bally train?”
“How long have you got?” asked the porter, with apparent irrelevance.
“Fourteen days.”
“Well,” said the porter, “you’d better walk.”
REAL STRATEGY
A young but distinguished major on furlough was visiting a house where the family consisted of several eligible daughters. The good lady of the house was quick to notice that one of her daughters seemed to be making a favorable impression on her visitor. So before he took his departure the artful mother whispered to him: “There’s a story going the rounds, major, that you are going to marry my daughter Hilda. What shall I say?”
“Just say, my dear madam, that your charming and beautiful daughter refused me,” was the tactful reply.
HE KNEW THE BREED
A young British private was on night guard at a lonely outpost in France, when suddenly he heard the tramp of an advancing regiment. “Halt!” he called. “Who goes there?”
“Irish Fusiliers.”
“Pass, Irish Fusiliers, all’s well.”
Silence reigned for some minutes and then he heard another regiment advancing. “Halt! Who goes there?”
“London Scottish.”
“Pass, London Scottish, all’s well.”
For some time there was silence, and then another regiment was heard. “Halt! Who goes there?”
“None of your d – business!”
“Pass, Canadians, all’s well.”
DESERVED PROMOTION
“Don’t keep calling me ‘general.’ I’m only a colonel.”
“’Scuse me, boss. I ain’t disputin’ yo’ word, but any military gent’man dat gives dis old waiter a dollar tip is jes natcherly a ‘gen’ral.’”
MIXED HER DATES
The Khaki Gentleman: “Do you love me, darling?”
She: “Yes, Jack, dear.”
The Khaki Gentleman: “Jack! My name’s Harold!”
She (who has numerous admirers – one for each day of the week): “Oh, yes, of course! I keep thinking this is Saturday!”
HOOVER, GOD AND THREE OTHERS
A boy who had a habit of leaving food on his plate was told by his nurse that Mr. Hoover would get after him.
“Well, that makes five,” despondently said the boy.
“Five?” asked the nurse. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” was the answer, “I’ve always had to mind daddy and mother and Aunt Mary and God, and now here comes along Mr. Hoover.”
IT TAKES FIFTEEN YEARS, SON
A young recruit, fresh from a New Hampshire farm, sat watching a group of men in camp, engaged in the usual pastime – “the great American game.” After watching the game silently for a time he inquired: “Is that poker you fellows are playing?” On being informed that it was, he volunteered:
“Well, I’ll be darned! I’ve been watching this game carefully for about fifteen minutes, and I don’t believe I thoroughly understand it yet.”
AW, BE A SPORT, HUBBY
Mrs. Will Irwin, speaking of women’s wartime costumes, said at a Washington Square tea:
“The more immodest fashions would disappear if men would resolutely oppose them.
“I know a woman whose dressmaker sent home the other day a skirt that was, really, too short altogether. The woman put it on. It was becoming enough, dear knows, but it made her feel ashamed. She entered the library, and her husband looked up from his work with a dark frown.
“‘I wonder,’ she said, with an embarrassed laugh, ‘if these ultra-short skirts will ever go out?’
“‘They’ll never go out with me,’ he answered in decided tones.”
NOT ON THE PROGRAM
When the wealthy Mrs. Beldon came to visit her son at his post, the gallant Lieutenant was so pleased that he arranged a theater party in honor of his mother. Officers and their ladies were in all the boxes. When the Lieutenant glanced over the audience he saw that every one was looking at his box. Women held handkerchiefs to their faces and men shook with laughter. Then he noticed that his mother, who held in one gloved hand a fan, rested the other arm upon the rail of the box. Her free hand, she thought, reposed on the lower rail, but in reality it rested upon the bald pate of an old man who sat in the box below. The old gentleman apparently was in agony, but he was very patient. Suddenly the audience started to applaud and the officer’s mother, in total abstraction, affectionately patted that poor bald head, which suddenly arose in crimson rage and left the theater.
WHERE HIS AUTHORITY BEGAN
A tired column of troops clambered down a rocky ledge and went into camp beside a delightful little pool of water. The commanding officer immediately placed his sentry at the pool. Soon more soldiers scrambled down the ledge and a tired Lieutenant quickly prepared for a plunge into that pool. But he was met with a sharp command from across the pond:
“Halt!”
“What are your orders?” said the Lieutenant.
“Sir,” came the answer, “my orders are to prevent all officers, soldiers, and natives from bathing in that pool. The water is reserved for the coffee for supper.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before I stripped?”
“Sir, I have no orders to prevent any man from stripping.”
A TENNYSONIAN TODDY
It was bitterly cold. Captain Price was officer of the day. It was necessary for him to inspect the guard after midnight, and, fearful of the influenza, he sought prevention in hot toddy. Fate decreed that he should be reported drunk on duty. Now, the men in the troop thought much of their genial Captain. They petitioned McSweeny, orderly to the troop commander, to go to the court-martial and swear to anything, but to be sure to clear the Captain. So it came to pass that McSweeny appeared as a witness. The Judge Advocate said he must swear to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Then he thundered:
“Do you know the accused?”
“Yes, Sir,” came the answer, “he is my troop commander, Captain Price.”
“Did you see the accused on this date?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What was the condition of the accused?”
“The Captain was sober, Sir.”
“The testimony reads that he was intoxicated.”
“No, Sir.”
“It is further stated that you helped the accused to his quarters.”
“No, Sir; I went over to the quarters with the Captain.”
“It is said that you helped the accused into his bunk.”
“No, Sir: I took off his boots.”
“Did the accused say anything that would lead you to suspect that he was intoxicated?”
“No, Sir; he only said one thing.”
“What was that?”
“When I was leaving, Sir, he said: ‘McSweeny, call me early. I am going to be Queen of the May.’”
WHY REMIND THEM OF IT?
Terry O’Neill was steward on an army transport. Before the mess call sounded Terry always visited the different staterooms. Pushing the door ajar, he would say to the officers: “Gentlemen, do you wish me to throw your luncheon overboard, or will you do it yourselves?”
HE’D HEARD HER SING
“And did you have a good crossing?” asked the friend of the adventurous lady who had just returned from France.
“Oh, a most terrible crossing, terrible. The most awful storm I’ve ever been in. Yet I wasn’t a bit afraid. The other passengers were in a panic running all over the boat, till at last the captain, who had heard that I was a singer, asked me to sing to them and quiet them, and I did. And all the time I was singing the heavy seas were running.”
“I don’t blame ’em!” growled her father. “I don’t blame those heavy seas a bit.”
WHY FRANCE WON
A Frenchwoman was torn by a shell while rendering service to the soldiers, and General Petain, of the French Armies, accompanied by his staff and by General Pershing as a guest, went to the woman’s bedside and pinned on her breast the Croix de Guerre, the soldiers’ cross of war.
“My general,” said the woman to Petain, “I am glad to have been struck so that you may see and know that the daughters as well as the sons of France are ready to suffer and, if need be, to die for France and for her liberty.”
MUCH THE SAFEST PLAN
A recruiting sergeant stationed in the south of Ireland met Pat and asked him to join the army. The latter refused, whereupon the sergeant asked his reason for refusing.
“Aren’t the King and the Kaiser cousins?” asked Pat.
“Yes,” said the recruiting sergeant.
“Well,” said Pat, “begorra, I once interfered in a family squabble, and I’m not going to do so again.”
THE OLD FAMILIAR WORDS
Some time ago, when a British corps was reviewed by Sir Ian Hamilton, one officer was mounted on a horse that had previously distinguished itself in a bakery business. Somebody recognized the horse, and shouted, “Baker!” The horse promptly stopped dead, and nothing could urge it on.
The situation was getting painful when the officer was struck with a brilliant idea, and remarked, “Not today, thank you.” The procession then moved on.
WITH A COMMA AFTER “RED”
“Mrs. Bing’s new baby is just in the fashion.”
“How do you mean?”
“It is such a red cross affair.”
HOLES CLEAR THROUGH HIM
The melancholy youth was lying in the hospital bed entertaining his visitors with tales of the battlefield.
“Yes,” he said, almost tearfully, “I have had a rough time. I was once so riddled with bullets the fellows behind me complained of the draft.”
WAS THIS FOREORDAINED?
The Presbyterians are having their day, it seems, if one looks over a list of the foremost men of today. Woodrow Wilson is a Presbyterian elder; Robert Lansing, Secretary of State, is likewise. Thomas R. Marshall, Vice President of the United States, is a Presbyterian; and so are General Pershing, in command of America’s legions abroad; General Peyton C. March, the new Chief of Staff; and General Hugh Scott. General Field Marshal Haig, of the British armies, is a member of the Church of Scotland, which is Presbyterian; and Field Marshal Joffre is a member of the Reformed Church, which in France is similarly nearest to the Presbyterian Church in the United States.
WILLING TO PAY THE PRICE
A Tommy on furlough entered a jeweler’s shop and, placing a much-battered gold watch on the counter, said, “I want this ’ere mended.”
After a careful survey the watchmaker said, “I’m afraid, sir, the cost of repairing will be double what you gave for it.”
“I don’t mind that,” said the soldier. “Will you mend it?”
“Yes,” said the jeweler, “at the price.”
“Well,” remarked Tommy, smiling, “I gave a German a punch on the nose for it, and I’m quite ready to give you two if you’ll mend it.”
WAR’S COMPENSATIONS
“Lady (young) will gladly MARRY and give up life to the care and happiness of WOUNDED HERO, blinded or incapacitated by the war. —Genuine, Box M 770, the London Times.”
CAP WAS A SURE WINNER
The captain of the SS. Piffle listened patiently to a passenger’s account of his shooting abilities, then he quietly remarked:
“I don’t think you could hit this bottle at twenty yards, placed on the taffrail, while the ship is heaving like this.”
“It would be only child’s play,” said the passenger.
“Well, I’ll bet you a guinea you don’t hit it three times out of six.”
“It’s a wager. Come along.”
The bottle was placed in position. Crack! The passenger hit it, and it disappeared in fragments into the sea.
“Trot out another one,” said the marksman.
“Not at all. The conditions were that you hit that one three times out of six. Five shots more.”
ONLY A RUSE AFTER ALL
The called-up one volubly explained that there was no need in his case for a medical examination.
“I’m fit and I want to fight. I want to go over on the first boat. I want to go right into the front trenches, but I want to have a hospital close, so that if I get hit no time will be wasted in taking me where I can get mended right away, so that I can get back to fighting without losing a minute. Pass me in, doctor. Don’t waste any time on me. I want to fight, and keep fighting!”
The doctor, however, insisted, and, when he got through, reported a perfect physical specimen.
“You don’t find nothing wrong with me, doctor?”
“Nothing.”
“But, doctor, don’t you think I’m a bit crazy?”
TRY IT ON THE YANKS
She – “Yes, sir, I believe that woman’s place in this war is right beside the men on the battle line.”
He – “And suppose a commander sent a party of six men and six women out in the woods to see if the enemy were in sight, would you call that war? That would be a picnic!”
HER MEASURE OF SUCCESS
He – “And how are you getting on with your collecting for the soldiers?”
She – “Splendidly! I’ve had my name in the papers four times already.”
BETTER MAKE AN OMELET
“I’ll put you in the commissary department if you’ll answer the following question: What would you do if you had one hundred soldiers and only ninety-nine eggs?”
“I’d shoot one of the soldiers!”
THE USUAL PREFERENCE
That the British “Tommy” is as ready with his tongue as with his gun was aptly shown the other day when a number of wounded soldiers were being admitted to a hospital.
One of the patients was being carried to a ward named L, but at the door the stretcher bearers were met by the Sister in charge, who said, “I’m sorry, but L’s full.”
“All right,” cheerily replied the irrepressible “Tommy,” “we’ll just go to ’eaven.”
NOTHING TO FIGHT FOR
Jem – “Why don’t you shoulder a gun?”
Ben – “Ah ain’t got nothin’ against nobody in dis here world, and if I have I forgive ’em!”
Jem – “But your country is at war and you’ve got to carry a gun.”
Ben – “Man, the only time Ah carry a gun is when I’m after one lone man and not after an army!”
Jem – “But why don’t you fight for your country?”
Ben – “Ah live in the city!”
BOTH UP AND DOWN, AUNTIE
Aunt Nancy was visiting an army camp and as she approached some rookies were sitting on their heels and then rising to a standing position in perfect unison.
“What are the boys doing now?” she asked.
“Why, those are the setting-up exercises,” explained an obliging sergeant.
“Humph,” remarked auntie. “Looks to me more like settin’ down exercises.”
SECURING A TEMPORARY DIVORCE
There is a man in Bozeman, Mont., who will probably go through life bewailing the injustice of the draft board that certified him for service, despite the fact that he presented a letter written by his wife to prove that he had a dependent family. Here is the letter:
“Dear United States Army: My husband ast me to write a reckomend that he supports his famly. He can not read so dont tell him. Jus take him. He ain’t no good to me. He aint done nothing but play a fiddle and drink lemmen essense since I married him, eight years ago, and I got to feed seven kids of his. Maybe you can get him to carry a gun. He’s good on squirrels and eatin’. Take him and welcum. I need the grub and his bed for the kids. Don’t tell him this but take him.”
REMINDS ONE OF PLATTSBURG
“Now, Lieutenant Tompkins,” said the general, “you have the battalion in quarter column, facing south – how would you get it into line, in the quickest possible way, facing northeast?”
“Well, sir,” said the lieutenant, after a moment’s fruitless consideration, “do you know, that’s what I’ve often wondered.”
MONOLOGUE, BY NAT M. WILLS
(As delivered in Chicago.)
I just asked a policeman the quickest way to the hospital. He told me to go down to Jefferson street and yell hurrah for the czar. John D. Rockefeller wants to go to the front, but I don’t think he’ll do much for the country. When the officer says advance he’ll raise the price of gasoline.
You know all that peace talk is over. The peace party crawled into a hole and pulled the hole in after them – they’re afraid of the draft.
Some men are born soldiers, others develop into fighters after they marry. I’ve been in four battles.
The very first night I was married my wife broke this news to me. “You know, dear, I can’t dress myself,” so I got her a French maid; and, “I can’t drive my own car,” so I got her a chauffeur. Then she said: “You know I walk in my sleep,” so I had to get her a night watchman.
Uncle Sam is preparing all right in a hundred different ways we know nothing about. A man who comes up to you on the street may be an officer. If you get a drink in Kansas City, well, that’s secret service.
It certainly was pretty windy around the Masonic temple today. You know two girls were passing; one had red, white and blue stockings on and the other green; they were going in the opposite direction. I didn’t know which to look at, but decided to see America first.
Sousa and I got together a couple of seasons ago. His band was going to play my songs. I met him the other day just as I was going into a saloon. He said: “Nat, my band of 300 men will accompany you.” I said: “That’s all right with me, Phil, but do you think there’ll be room?”
