Funny Stories Told by the Soldiers Read online

fell in line by the light of the moon, his bunkie heardhim mutter:

  “It’s clear to me now. Why didn’t I think of that long ago?”

  Bunkie (puzzled)—“What’s clear to you now?”

  Rookie—“The reason why all great battles begin at daybreak.”

  Bunkie—“Why?”

  Rookie—“Because, when men have to get up that time, they feel so muchlike fighting.”

  WORKING THE WAR

  Bess: “That’s Mrs. Grabbit—she’s a great war-worker.”

  Bob: “Indeed!”

  Bess: “Yes; she’s married four of her daughters to soldiers.”

  SANDY WAS SCOTCH

  Sandy M’Tavish was a highly-skilled workman in a new aeroplane factory.It happened one day that he was asked if he would care to accompany theworks aviator on one of his trial flights in a machine. Sandy, aftersome hesitation, agreed to do so.

  During the flight the aviator asked how he was enjoying the trip.

  “To tell the truth,” answered the Scot, “I wad rather be on the groun’.”

  “Tut, tut,” replied the flying man. “I’m just thinking of looping theloop.”

  “For heaven’s sake don’t dae that!” yelled the now very seriousM’Tavish. “I’ve some siller in my vest pocket, an’ I micht lose it.”

  BROWN WASN’T GREEN

  Brown was transferred to another unit his adjutant wrote to theadjutant of the new regiment saying: “We are sending you Brown. Heis a nice boy, but he has a shocking bad habit of betting on everyconceivable subject. Try and choke him off.”

  Brown arrived. At mess on the first night he sat next the colonel and,turning the conversation on India, made the astounding assertion thatevery white man who went there developed a curious green patch betweenthe shoulder-blades. This rubbish annoyed the colonel. He said that hecertainly had no green patch on his back. Brown, with all deference,offered to bet him ten pounds that he had! The bet was accepted by theindignant officer, and in the ante-room afterwards he pulled off hisshirt. There was no patch. Brown apologized and paid up. Next day theadjutant wrote to Brown’s former regiment: “Brown turned up. * * * Ithink we have choked him off. Last night he bet the colonel, etc. * * *and lost.”

  The reply came: “Thanks for yours. Before Brown left here he bet us tenpounds apiece all round the mess that he would make the colonel takeoff his shirt in the ante-room on the first night he arrived.”

  ANYTHING TO GET AWAY

  A soldier was pleading with his O. C.

  “You are always on leave,” exclaimed the officer. “What on earth do youwant 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’sbaby—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 pointedlyrefused to take a second dose of medicine, which was inordinatelynasty. 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 aglass of beer occasionally “for his stomach’s sake.”

  “It can’t be done, doctor; it can’t be done,” said Mr. Meek. “Althoughthere is a barrel of beer in the cellar, my wife insists on my beingteetotal for the duration of the war.”

  “Tut, tut,” said the doctor, as he took his leave; “you must invent away to overcome your wife’s scruples; an easy matter enough, surely?”

  A few days later the medical man received a visit from Mrs. Meek, whowas greatly concerned as to the state of her husband’s health. “Iam afraid, doctor,” she said, “that the poor man has had a nervousbreakdown. He’s continually fancying that he can hear Zeppelins,and goes to hide in the cellar; besides which he often appears to besomewhat strange and aggressive in his manner.”

  PALESTINE VS. PURGATORY

  In a small village in Ireland the mother of a soldier met the villagepriest, 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 theWar 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 ofbureaus since its arrival in France, that it is difficult to enumeratethem or to know what their duties consist of, but its newest bureau,according to the last issue of the Bulletin, appears to be dabblingin matrimonial matters. The following paragraph is taken from theRed Cross Bulletin, showing that anything might be called for at theheadquarters:

  “Wanted—An American husband.”

  “No kidding. It’s a fact. If you are an eligible young man of Americannationality who wants a wife but cannot find anybody that wants tomarry you, apply to the office of the Secretary General.

  “The office of the Secretary General has not become a matrimonialagency, but received a letter from a French woman in which the writerextolled her excellent qualities and asked that she be found anAmerican 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 afriend tried to cheer him.

  “Why don’t you do as the song says, ‘Pack all your troubles in yourold kitbag, and smile, smile, smile’?”

  “I tried that once,” he said, sadly, “but the Quartermaster didn’t haveenough 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 ballytrain?”

  “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 wherethe family consisted of several eligible daughters. The good lady ofthe house was quick to notice that one of her daughters seemed to bemaking a favorable impression on her visitor. So before he took hisdeparture the artful mother whispered to him: “There’s a story goingthe rounds, major, that you are going to marry my daughter Hilda. Whatshall I say?”

  “Just say, my dear madam, that your charming and beautiful daughterrefused me,” was the tactful reply.

  HE KNEW THE BREED

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sp; A young British private was on night guard at a lonely outpost inFrance, 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 regimentadvancing. “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’mandat 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 hisnurse that Mr. Hoover would get