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Camp News, Volume 1, Issue 28, 21 June 1940, Page 5

“Whose is that cigarette end on the Poor?” inquired the orderly officer. The culprit looked at it for a moment. . “You’d better have it, sir,” he replied. “After all, you saw it first.” * * * ' * “And how high does your balloon go?” asked the old lady. The sergeant scratched his head. 'Funny you should say that, ma’am,” ,ie replied. “I’ve been wondering ibout it all day. “You see, when we pulled it in this morning we looked on top . . . and there, large as life, lay a perishin’ ’arp.” . ’.t ■ / C' • ■ ■ ■ / sfe. jR * ■ sj< SO THE GUY RAN! Private Jones was in hospital bed, face downwards,, a nasty wound in his back. ‘ To his side came the local parson, commiserating: “My poor fellow, how did you come by your wound?” “Well, it was like. this ’ere,” explained Private Jones: “When the captain said, ‘Do or Die, men,’ I thought he said, ‘Do a guy, men.’ ” * * * Rookie: Yes, Cutie, my mother had a great sense of humour. Sweetie: She must. She had you!