Funny Stories Told by the Soldiers

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?”

PARDONABLE MISTAKE

Captain Jones was a very round-shouldered and eccentric officer.

On a particularly dark night in Egypt, while practicing his company in outpost duty, he approached one of the sentries who failed to halt him.

In a great rage the officer demanded of the now trembling sentry the reason why he had omitted to challenge him.

“If you please, sir,” stuttered the confused soldier, “I thought you was a camel.”

HE WAS REAL MAD ABOUT IT

Two privates met the other morning near the canteen, which, from the fact that a monkey was kept on the counter, was popularly known as the “Monkey House.”

“Halloa, Jack,” said the first. “You look a bit off this morning.”

“Yes, Bill,” replied Jack. “I haven’t the price of a wet.”

“Neither have I,” replied Bill; “but I think I know how to get a couple of pints. Come into the Monkey House.”

They entered the canteen and Bill called for two pints. While the barman’s back was turned Bill hit the monkey a clout on the head, which caused the animal to scream out.

“What was that for?” asked the barman, wrathfully.

“Not the first time he has done that,” shouted Bill, angrily.

“Done what?” asked the barman.

“Why, picked up my shilling and swallowed it,” replied Bill.

“Well,” said the indignant barman, “why didn’t you tell me before you hit the monkey? There’s your two pints and your sevenpence change. And don’t you interfere with my monkey again.”

HE KNEW WHERE THEY WERE

The scene was a cinema palace, as they call ’em in England, where the Somme battle-pictures were being flickered.

As the Warwickshires were seen going over the top to the attack, an excited Birmingham man exclaimed, triumphantly: “What about your Highland regiments now?”

As luck would have it, there was a short, bandy-legged Scot in a kilt within hearing.

He flared up and replied: “What about oor Hielant regiments? Why, they are keepin’ back the Germans while your men are gettin’ their photographs took.”

JUST A BIT OF TRENCH REPARTEE

Australian Soldier (to American) – “You Yanks think you’ve done a lot, but you forget we Australians have been at the game for four years.”

“Well, what have you done, anyway?”

“Done? We’ve been at Gallipoli, Mesopotamia, the plains of Bethlehem, and – ”

“The plains of Bethlehem?”

“Yes; I slept a week there myself.”

“Well, I guess that was a busy week for the shepherds watching their flocks!”

NOT MENTIONABLE IN SOCIETY

“I know you have pet names for the big guns, but what do you call the shells?”

“Depends, ’ow close you are to where they burst, mum!”

NOW SHE KNOWS WHY

She had intently watched the soldier for some time. Then she ventured: “The chin strap, I suppose, is to keep your hat on, my man?”

“No,” replied Yank, “it’s to rest the jaw after answering questions.”

INTERCEPTED WAR MESSAGES

A wire from Secretary of War Baker: “Discuss no war news in front of horses. They carry tails.”

Cable from King George to the President: “Send me over 5,000 sewing machines, we want to hem the Germans on the border.”

From King George: “Must have $5,000,000; if it can’t be had any other way get it from the waiters at the Waldorf.”

Stone wires: “If war breaks out I’ll stand behind the army.”

Cable from Russian general: “Over a million pairs of pajamas at once; Russian army ready to retire.”

Wire from Empress of Germany to Queen Mary (sent collect): “Am sitting on my veranda crocheting; would like to have you join me – Nit.”

From the Czar of Russia: “It’s pretty tough to be seated on the throne one minute and thrown on your seat the next.”

WHAT MOTHERS ALWAYS SAY

“Remember, my son,” said his mother as she bade him good-by, “when you get to camp try to be punctual in the mornings, so as not to keep breakfast waiting.”

FASHION NOTE FROM THE FRONT

“Where are you going?” asked one rookie of another.

“Going to the blacksmith shop to get my tin hat reblocked.”

ONE GERMAN WE FORGIVE

The following story which is going the rounds of the Continental papers, including even those of Austria, must make the Germans gnash their teeth.

A German and a Dane met recently in Schiller’s house in Weimar. As they stood gazing reverently on the scene the German, swelling with pride, remarked to his fellow-visitor:

“So this is where our national poet, Schiller, lived.”

“Pardon me,” said the other; “not national, but international.”

“How so?” asked the German, with surprise.

“Why, consider his works,” the Dane replied. “He wrote, ‘Mary Stuart’ for the English, ‘The Maid of Orleans’ for the French, ‘Egmont’ for the Dutch, ‘William Tell’ for the Swiss – ”

“And what did he write for the Germans, pray?” broke in the other. Pat came the Dane’s answer:

“For the Germans he wrote, ‘The Robbers.’”

EQUINE “NOW I LAY ME”

Tommy (to the “charger” he has borrowed during a week-end leave after it has been down three times in ten minutes) – Wot! On yer knees agen? Go on – get on with it – “Bless Pa and Ma an’ make me a good ’orse. Amen.”

ONE BRITISH ATROCITY

The “Swanky” One – “I’m smoking a terrible lot of cigars lately.”

The Other (with conviction) – “You’re right, if that’s one of them!”

NEVER MIND THE NAME

How to pronounce some of the names of the towns which the Americans get into puzzles the boys, so they have their own pronunciation. Thus, when they captured Seringes, it became Syringe, and Fismes became Fiz. When Fismettes was taken, the battalion commander went back to report, made several assaults upon its pronunciation and finally said:

“Well, I can’t tell you what town it is, but I’ve taken the damned place, anyhow.”

FRENCH IN THE TRENCH

Tommy (to Jock, on leave) – “What about the lingo? Suppose you want to say ‘egg’ over there, what do you say?”

Jock – “Ye juist say ‘Oof.’”

Tommy – “But suppose you want two?”

Jock – “Ye say, ‘Twa oofs,’ and the silly auld fule wife gies ye three, and ye juist gie her back one. Man, it’s an awfu’ easy language.”

SCOTCH PROVISIONS

Captain John Stevenson met a recent arrival from the “auld countree” and speedily got into a chat with him over conditions there. The new arrival told feelingly of the terrible toll of war on the fair land of Scotia, the sad tales of young men killed and maimed, the sufferings of the families left behind. His was a right sad tale in every way.

“Wy, man, we’re jist plum distrackit wi’ it,” he concluded.

“And I suppose the war has caused the price of provisions to go up in Scotland as well as everywhere else?” commented Captain Stevenson with sympathy.

“Aye, man, ye’re richt,” agreed the visitor. “Proveesions have gone up saxpence the bottle.”

VERY LIKE MOSES

The conditions in the trenches were dreary in the extreme after the drenching and long-continued rainfall, but the irrepressible spirits of the “Pals” were not yet entirely quenched when the order came to leave the trenches.

“Hurry up out of this, my gallant soldiers,” was the cheery call of the sergeant to his waist-deep and rain-sodden men.

“Soldiers!” came the derisive answer from one of them. “I’m not a soldier; I’m a blooming bulrush!”

THEY FIXED YOU, WILLIE

“We played fool,” declared the Crown Prince “I see it now.”

“Huh?”

“We had the whole world to pick a fight with.”

“Well?”

“And look at the crowd we picked out.”

SAFETY FIRST

Messages had come to the office of a great illustrated paper that Zeppelins were approaching London.

The editor at once summoned his staff of photographers.

“Now, boys, we’ve got to have a picture of this Zepp. We were badly beaten on the last. The moment it approaches I want every man to rush to the roof with his camera and stay there, whatever happens, until he gets a picture. Let me know directly you get it. You’ll find me under the heap of coal bags in the right-hand corner of the lower cellar!”

NO SUGAR IN HEAVEN

First Tommy (as he reads the local paper sent from home) – “O, Bill, what do you think of it? They’re issuing a list in Blighty of the people what are going to do without using any more sugar!”

Second Tommy (eagerly grasping the paper and straining his eyes to find the list of names) – “Where did you see, it Harry?”

First Tommy – “Why, there” (pointing to the death column).

YOU CAN’T DO THIS IN BATTLE

The military maneuvered. All the afternoon the attackers had attacked and the defenders defended, with conspicuous lack of incident or bravery. Operations were beginning to drag horribly when the white flag went up.

The officer in command of the attackers stared in amazement.

“A flag of truce!” he exclaimed. “What do they want?”

The sergeant-major endeavored to cover up a smile.

“They say, sir,” he reported, “that, as it’s tea time, they’d like to exchange a couple o’ privates for a can of condensed milk – if you can afford it.”

NOW IT’S “ALL DUNN”