Part 3

The soldier was telling the workman about a battle that he had once been in that had lasted from eight o’clock in the morning until seven o’clock at night. His description was most graphic, and he became very enthusiastic as he lived through the stirring scenes again.

“There’s one thing I can’t understand about the story,” said the workman, slowly, when he had finished. “You say that the battle began at eight o’clock in the morning and lasted until seven o’clock at night?”

“Yes, that’s so,” was the reply.

“Then,” retorted the workman, with a puzzled air, “what I can’t make out is, how did you manage about your dinner-hour?”

MISSED SOMETHING

Green was a raw recruit, and in his ignorance of the ways of the army had committed some slight offense. When brought before the colonel, that worthy was pleased to let him off with only a sharp admonition. The facts of the case appeared in the regimental orders, and when Green read the account he rushed off to his sergeant breathless with indignation.

“Why, sergeant, it says in the orders that I was ‘discharged with an 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.