Khaki Klad
Captain (examining uniforms which are expected to be marked with the owner’s name)—What does this mean, my man? Your name seems to be obliterated.
Private (in the rear rank)—No, sir, it’s O’Brien.
A young officer at the front wrote home to his father—
Dear Father—Kindly send me fifty pounds at once. Lost another leg in a stiff engagement, and am in hospital without means.
The answer was as follows—
My Dear Son—As this is the fourth leg you have lost (according to your letters), you ought to be accustomed to it by this time. Try and hobble along on any others you may have left.
She had been hoping against hope that Bill would get leave of absence so they could spend their wedding anniversary together. But, alas! he was unsuccessful in his application. Knowing how disappointed his wife would be he sent an order to a local store for a treadle sewing machine, knowing that would be her choice of a present.
The crate arrived before Bill’s letter of explanation, and on examining it the good lady gave a loud scream, and seizing a hatchet, proceeded to open it.
Why, what’s the matter, Mrs. Smith? cried a neighbor, who happened to be present.
Pale and faint, Mrs. Smith pointed to an inscription on the crate. It read—
Bill inside!
Rear Admiral Osterhaus, at a luncheon in New York, said of a naval disappointment.
It was as disappointing as absent-minded Ibsen’s Christmas dinner.
Ibsen, you know, ran absent-mindedly one Christmas night into the restaurant of a railway station and asked—
Look here, waiter, did you say I had twenty minutes to wait or that it was twenty minutes to eight?
The Tipperary waiter stopped carving a turkey long enough to reply—
I said nayther. I said ye had twenty minutes to ate, but that was nineteen minutes ago. There’s yer train whistlin’ fur ye now.
Isaac had been drafted and sent to France. Jacob, his partner, distracted, had begged Isaac to cable when he got over. Three weeks elapse. No cable.
Jacob cables Isaac—Isaac! Woe is us! Our factory burned down ten days ago. Why don’t you cable or write?
Three weeks more. No reply.
Jacob cables again—Isaac! Woe is us! Our storage warehouse burned down last week. Total loss. Settled for $75,000. I am nearly crazy from grief. Why don’t you cable? Are you dead?
Three weeks more. No reply.
Jacob cables again—Isaac! Woe is us! Our main office burned last week. Settled insurance for $90,000. I will die if you don’t cable. Haven’t heard from you at all. Where are you? Are you alive?
Answer comes next day—Jacob, stop that nonsense, spending all our money for cables! I’m all right. You just keep the home fires burning!
The French soldier found as much cause to complain about English as she is spoken as our lads did with the lingo over there. One of the tri-color veterans chirped up one day by letting out—Ze English spoken, pas bon. Here ze sentence—What color is ze blackberry when it is green? and I find out he is red!
General W. W. Blackmar was talking to a group of soldiers in Boston when a fakir came up and held out for inspection a rusty old sword.
Look at it, gents, he said, examine it close. It is the sword what Lee surrendered to Grant. You can have it for $5.
Go along with you, said one of the soldiers sternly. Go along with you. You can’t fool us.
The fakir hurried away, and General Blackmar said—
That was, indeed, an impudent fraud, wasn’t it? It reminds me of the frauds that were practiced in the old relic shows that used to be a feature of country fairs.
At a country fair in my youth there was a show devoted almost to biblical relics. I wish you could have seen the faded cloth, the rusty nails, and the brass jewels that did duty severally for a piece of Solomon’s robe, an earring of the Queen of Sheba, Absalom’s hairpin, David’s sling, and so on. In the place of honor hung a sword, and the showman said—
This is the sword that Balaam was going to kill his ass with.
But, I interposed, I thought that Balaam had no sword. I thought he only wished for one.
You’re right, said the showman, this is the sword he wished for.
What is a man-of-war? said a teacher to his class.
A cruiser, was the prompt reply.
What makes it go?
Its screw, sir.
Who goes with it?
Its crew, sir.
Is de major got his pension yit?
Oh, yes!
Used him up purty bad, didn’t dey?
Wuss you ever see! Los’ one arm whilst he waz a-tryin’ ter surrender en broke two legs a runnin’!
When I was a little child, the sergeant sweetly addressed his men at the end of an hour’s exhaustive drill, I had a set of wooden soldiers. There was a poor little boy in the neighborhood and after I had been to Sunday school one day and listened to a stirring talk on the beauties of charity I was softened enough to give them to him. Then I wanted them back and cried, but mother said, Don’t cry, Bertie, some day you will get your wooden soldiers back, and believe me, you lob-sided, mutton-headed, goofus-brained set of certified rolling pins, that day has come.
A firm in Liverpool, delighted that one of its employes was called upon to join the reserves, volunteered to pay half his wages to his wife in his absence. At the end of the month the woman appeared, and the moiety was given her. What? she said; four pound? Yes, replied the senior partner, that is exactly half, sorry you are not satisfied. It isn’t that I’m not satisfied. Why, for years he has told me he only got 16 shillings altogether, and—and—if the Boers don’t kill him, I will.
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.
Two British soldiers went into a restaurant at Saloniki and asked for Turkey with Greece. The waiter said—
I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I can’t Servia, whereupon the Tommies cried—Fetch the Bosphorus!
When that gentleman arrived and heard the complaint, the manager said—
Well, gentlemen, I don’t want to Russia, but you can not Rumania.
And so the poor Tommies had to go away Hungary.
The Baron Speck von Sternberg, the newly appointed charge d’affaires from Berlin, was at a dinner where, in a purely humorous spirit the courage of the various nations of the world was being impugned. The German’s courage was pretty severely attacked by an Englishman. Baron von Sternberg took revenge on him with this brief story—
An Englishman and a German were to fight a duel. They were locked in a pitch dark room together with cocked pistols. All was still, and neither could tell where the other was. Finally the German, not wishing to have murder on his soul, tiptoed to the chimney and fired up it. There was a shriek, and the Englishman, badly wounded, came tumbling down.
Two officers once appeared before Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden to ask his permission to fight a duel, as one had grievously insulted the other. Certainly, my friends, said the king. I will be present myself at the encounter. On the day appointed Gustavus Adolphus appeared on the scene, accompanied by a sinister looking person, who proved to be the public executioner. Pointing to the two combatants, the king said—
You see those two men? Immediately after their duel you will behead the survivor.
The two officers shook hands on the spot.
Corporal James Tanner lost both his legs at the second battle of Bull Run. Later, when in a hospital, he and other wounded soldiers were visited by charitably inclined women.
One day an elderly female carrying a neat basket sat down beside Tanner and talked religion to him while he thought of the delicacies in the basket. At length she lifted the lid and took therefrom a tract on the evils of dancing, which she handed to the patient. Tanner looked it over and then said earnestly—
I give you my word of honor, madam, that I’ll never dance again as long as I live. The elderly lady departed with great satisfaction, fully believing she had made a convert.