It was company field-training. The captain saw a young soldier trying to cook his breakfast with a badly-made fire. Going to him, he showed him how to make a quick-cooking fire, saying:
“Look at the time you are wasting. When I was on the West Coast I often had to hunt my breakfast. I used to go about two miles in the jungle, shoot my food, skin or pluck it, then cook and eat it, and return to the camp under the half-hour.” Then he unwisely added, “Of course, you have heard of the West Coast?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the young soldier, “and also of Ananias and Baron Munchausen, too.”
Bill—“Have you heard about the Prince of Wales?”
Bill—“Well, he had a fall, and remained unconscious for some hours.”
Bill—“But I am happy to say when His Royal Highness came to himself he was none the worse.”
Bill—“In this way (not officially denied): It was very late on Monday; he fell—asleep in his bed!”
“Proud of ’im, I am,” announced an old lady, whose son had just enlisted, to a knot of friends in the village street. “Always done ’is duty by me, ’e ’as, an’ now ’e’s doin’ ’is duty by King an’ country. I feel right down sorry for them poor Germans to think of ’im goin’ into battle with ’is rifle in ’is ’and an’ ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ on ’is lips.”
“Poor Germans, indeed!” exclaimed one of her audience. “Pity’s wasted on ’em. P’r’aps you ’aven’t ’eard of their cruelties?”
“P’r’aps I ’aven’t,” agreed the old lady, “an’ p’r’aps you ’aven’t ’eard George sing!”
Short-sighted Customer—“Aren’t you making your rolls a little larger these days, Mr. Baker?”
Amongst some recruits waiting to be passed by the doctor for a Tyneside battalion was a miner from a local colliery, a fine strapping youth. After a good many had been examined, it came to Geordie’s turn, and everyone present thought him a likely recruit. The doctor, after looking at Geordie’s teeth, remarked sadly:—
“I’m sorry, my lad, I cannot pass you; your teeth are too bad.”
“Wey, if this isn’t a licker,” replied Geordie. “Ye passed th’ same teeth yisterday wi’ Bill Smith, an’ we both borrowed them.”
A certain Yorkshire soldier, who was badly wounded in the jaw at Mons by a German bullet, was, on his return home, relating to an interested group how his company tackled the enemy when the order to charge was given.