SHORT WAR STORIES.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XL, Issue 1885, 3 October 1918, Page 1

SHORT WAR STORIES.

HIS QUANDARY. A private in one of the camps was asked if he would like to ho promoted. “It all depends on what yon mean by promotion,” he replied. “I don’t think I know enough to be a sergeant, but I know too much to be second lieutenant.” ANOTHER MATTER. Army Chaplain (visiting men in detention cells, and ottering them consolation) : ‘‘Well, never mind, these afflictions are only for a season. We are here to-day and gone to-morrow.” Prisoner (who has just been sent- | enced to 5(1 days’ cells); “Yes you ! may be, but I ain’t.” THE SCEPTIC. The Colonel (to. hardened offender) : “Didn't I tell you last time you were up in the orderly-room that 1 never wanted to see you again?” The Culprit; “That's right, sir; but the bloomin’ sergeant wouldn’tbelieve it.” ITS BACK UP. The sergeant was asking a few raw recruits general-knowledge questions. “Private Pigtails, what is a hill?" he asked, suddenly. “Oh —er —” stammered Pigtails. “Come on —quick,” rapped out the sergeant. “Oh,” said Pigtails, “I should say it was a field with its bade up!” A REASON. A certain young lieutenant on active service was much chaffed by Ids fellow officers on the receipt of his hundredth pair of socks. “Why, you must be a regular Don Juan,” said one of them. “Oh, no,” said another, who happened to hail from the same town as the lieutenant, “it isn’t that; you see, Brown happened to lie a gymnasium master in a girls’ school before the war.” CONE OCT! It was in the front line, and William and Willie were lulving a bit of something “’o(.” William was doing the cooking, and suddenly he called : “Hi, William, yer blinkin' patent stove’s gone aht!” “Light it again, (hen, stoopid!” called back William. “Cot a match ?” “No. A match ain’t no use. It’s gorn out through the roof of the bloomin' dug-out!” ETC ITT DUTY. On the square at the 5.30 p.m. detail parade, where everyone is anxious to appear (paradoxically) invisible. on account of being selected, mayhap, for some obnoxious fatigue, live picquet, or guard duty, forward same the jovial C.S.M., the idol of the depot: “Shun!” he commanded. “Any good tailors here?” There was instantly it commotion at the rear of the parade, and a voice was heard shouting: “Here, major!” as a “Tommy” rushed through (he ranks. “Right-o, my hid," said the C.S.M. “(he very man I want ! The captain has a button, and wants a suit of clothes sewed on to it —come with me!” Collapse of parade. THE ROYAL STANDARD, There is an American unit with the Grand Fleet in the North Sea, and the following story was told by Sir Eric Geddes, in opening an exhibition of naval photographs in London: —“The American admiral, on going on board the flagship one day, said to Sir David Beatty: ‘For the first time I have seen the Royal Standard flying in the Grand Fleet.” The British Commander-in-Chief looked puzzled, and asked where the flag had been seen. “I passed it just now as a come here,” the admiral replied. “Look! There it is!” Sir David Beatty looked, and the American officer remarked: “That’s your Royal Standard —John Bull on a flag.” The flag shown was a blue bull on a white ground, and denoted a meat ship with supplies for the fleet.