YULE SMILE

Camp News, Volume 1, Issue 29, 28 June 1940, Page 5

YULE SMILE

POETRY ON PARADE. The battalion recently received as a recruit a young man of education and culture, who had failed to make I I good in other vocations. On his first I day on the parade ground he was ex- j hausted by several hours of marching l up and down. “Stand at ease!” ordered the officer at last. “How wonderful is death!” muttered the recruit. The officer turned like a flash. “Who said that?” he demanded. The culprit smiled wanly as he replied: “Shelly, I believe, sir.” * * * * The British pilot-officer returned from a raid into Germany. “Sorry to be three hours late, sir,” he explained to his commanding officer. “I misunderstood instructions and pushed the leaflets under people’s doors.” \ * * * * | New Recruit: Is the air always clear around here ' -; Old Hand: Yes, except when it is blowing from the parade ground. * * * * •‘ . X Nurse: Oh, dear me, your temperature is very low! Recruit: Well, you’re not so hot yourself. *** • * A young recruit, remembering his ■ mother’s advice always to be polite, displayed his best manners . in the mess by quietly asking, “Please pass ' the salt.”

Several times he repeated the request, until at last, losing his patience, he bellowed, “Hi! Ain’t none of you knock-kneed, ' hen-brained perishers got enough manners to pass the salt?” “Oh, crumbs,” said a quiet voice, “why on earth couldn’t you have said that at first? ’Ere, catch!” ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ■> ;• ' XV • ' X'"- V’ Mrs. Smythe was expecting some evacuated children, and on being informed that they were fairly big boys, she decided to engage a strong, capable woman to look after them. - The boys arrived before the foster mother, and as Mrs. Smythe had to I be away from home that day, she left instructions for her. “I want you to get the boys thoroughly bathed and put to* bed before my return, Mrs. Brown,” she wrote. , “Don’t stand any nonsense from them. Be firm.” On . her return in the evening, the house was strangely peaceful. “Well, Mrs. Brown,” she said, “did you find the boys easy to manage?” “Fairly,” replied Mrs. Brown. “Five of them weren’t so bad. But, oh, my! I *ad a ’ell of a time trying to bath the little ginger fellow in -rimmed glasses.” “Great Scott!” cried Mrs. Smythe. “That’s my husband.” '