Don’t Say We Didn’t Warn You

Observation Post, Volume 1, Issue 28, 27 November 1942, Page 4

Don’t Say We Didn’t Warn You

PRICE OF GLORY A wounded man was being carried across ‘‘No Man’s Land” on the back of ' a perspiring comrade. Rifle and machine-gun fire was heavy. “ ’Ere,” suddenly exclaimed the wounded soldier, ‘‘what abaht turning round an’ walking backwards for a spell. You’re getting the V.C. but I’m getting all the blinkin’ bullets.”

The car was a thing Unheard of to a mountaineer in an unfrequented community, and he was astonished one day when he saw one go by without any visible means of locomotion. His eyes bulged, however, when a motorcycle followed closely in its wake and disappeared like a flash round a bend in tuy road. ‘‘Great guns!” he cried, turning to his son. ‘‘Who’d 'a' supposed that thing had a colt!”

HE WAS WATCHING The tale was going round of an Aussie soldier who was sent to a part of England. By some freak of the war machine, he was the only soldier from down under among all “ the Tommies there. He put up with all their chaff and leg pulling in silence for a long time till one day someone said: ‘‘Anyway, Aussie, what are you doing here, the only Aussie among all us Tommies?” ‘‘Well,” answered the Aussie, sotto voice, ‘‘l’m here to see you b cows don’t sign any separate peace.

THE URGE Recently, one of our chaps, spending a few days’ well-earned leave in Haifa, visited, with a number of his cobbers, the baths of that port. His pals, all good divers, did their stuff from the tower diving board and, although he ventured up to the platform, he could not quite pluck up the necessary courage to make tho dive. Suddenly, and without warning, ackack fire was heard, followed almost immediately by the bursting of a bomb. ‘‘Gord! ” gasped our hero, and dived. Not so bad either! We proudly exhibit him now as our' high-diving champion.

A well-known philanthropist in East London gave, the other day, a slum child’s version of the story of Eden. She was sitting with other children on' the kerb of a public-house in Shoreditch and her version of the story proceeded: ‘‘Eve ses: ‘Adam, ’have a bite?’ ‘ . .0,’ ses Adam, ‘I don’t want a bite!’ ‘Garn!’ ses Eve, ‘go on, ’ave a bite!’ ‘I don’t want a bite!’ ses Adam.” The I child repeated this diologue, her voice I rising to a shrill shriek. “An‘ then Adgjn took'a bite,” she finished up. | “An’ the flamin’ angel came along wis t is sword an’ ’he ses to ’em both: ‘Nah, thenahtside!’ ”

IT MADE NO DIFFERENCE. A city lad once went to dine with an aunt of his in the country, and as soon as he was seated he manifested a disposition to waive ceremony. “Johnnie,” said the aunt, “we are ' in the habit of saying something before beginning to eat.’’ ‘ ‘ All right, Auntie, say whatever you like. I’m used to it at home, but it can’t spoil my appetite.”

This is a tale of stiffness. Somewhere overseas a number of A.I.F. men were paraded and volunteers were invited for military police duty. There ; was nothing doing. They had had a tough time, and a cushy rest would have been welcome but not on those terms. “Very well,” said the SergeantMajor briskly. ‘‘Every eighth man will take one step to the front.’’ To the accompaniment of grins the men were marched away, the personification of dejection. But the boot was on the other foot when it was learned that they were wanted as guards on a ship on a trip to Australia. Wouldn’t it?

ON THE JOB During the trip over to England I happened to be on guard duty on upper deck one night when the Orderly Officer did his rounds about 11 o'clock? I hailed him: "’‘‘Who goes there?” ‘‘Orderly.Officer,” he replied. I knew there was some more official routine but could not think just what it was, so I said: ‘‘What the hell are you doing up here this time of night?” ‘‘Seeing you Bees do your duty,” he said, as he turned’ to depart.