Two negroes were discussing the possibilities of being drafted.
“’Tain’t gwine do ’em any good to pick on me,” said Sam. “Ah certainly ain’t gwine do any fightin’. Ah ain’t lost nothin’ oveh in France. Ah ain’t got any quarrel with a-n-ybody, and dey kain’t make me fight.”
The other pondered over this statement for a moment. “Yo right,” he said at length; “Uncle Sam kain’t make you fight. But he can take you where de fightin’ is, and after that you kin use you’ own judgment.”
During the fighting on the Aisne front one American company pushed out far ahead and lost touch with the neighboring companies on either side. Their zeal in chasing the Germans was leading them into danger of being enfiladed by machine gun fire from the flanks. A major stormed up to the captain.
“Why the hell don’t you hold your men back?” he yelled.
“How the hell can I told ’em back when the whole German army can’t?”
“Goodness!” gasped the sergeant of the guard, sticking his head out of the window, “what is the man playing at?”
Private Murphy, who was on sentry go, was running as hard as he could from end to end of his beat.
“Hi, Mike!” yelled the noncom, “what’s the trouble?”
“Sure, an’ there’s no trouble at all, at all,” replied Murphy, panting as he paused in his scurry.
“Well, ain’t I on duty here for two hours? I’m only trying to get me two hours done quick!”
“Were you happy when you started for France?”
“Well, sah. Ah’s in de infantry, but when we get t’ France Ah’se done asked de captain to put me on dat night-raid wo’k. Gittin’ into de odder fellow’s backyard durin’ de night hours is a job dat ah considers mahs’l particularly experienced at.”
American Soldier: “So you are in the aviation corps. I thought you enlisted in the cavalry?”
Gentleman of Color: “Wal, suh, for one thing, an aeroplane, after it throws yo’ out, very seldom walks over an’ bites yo’.”
He was probably the smallest “middy” in the navy, and one evening he was invited to attend a party in the saloon. He was such a little chap that the ladies had no idea that he was a midshipman at all, but took him for somebody’s “dear little boy” in a Royal Navy all-wool serge. At last one of them, on whose lap he had been sitting, and who had just kissed him, asked: