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Camp News (Northern Command), Volume 1, Issue 1, 3 May 1940, Page 7

YULE SMILE It was a filthy day. The recruits were “dumb.” Private Smith was the dumbest of them all. The. sergeant strode up to him. “What was your job in civil life?” he barked. “Bank clerk,” replied Smith. “I suppose,” sneered the sergeant, “you dusted the desks and washed out the ink-wells, and made nice cups of tea for the manager “Oh, no, sir,” repiled Smith. “We kept an old sergeant for those jobs.” * * * * THAT WAS MORE LIKELY. Determined to “do his bit,” the Boy Scout was busy collecting bottles and waste papers. . . ~ A prim old spinster answered his knock. “Have you any empty beer bottles, please?” he asked. “Do I look as though I would have any?” she replied angrily. The lad looked up at her. “Perhaps you’ve got some empty vinegar bottles then,” he asked innocently. ■• < ' * * * * . GONE SCREW-Y IN FACT! “Say, Bill, the sergeant ain’t ’alf lookin’ worried,” said the recruit. “Yus,” replied his pal. “Pore bloke’s got so many wrinkles on his fore-ead ’ee ’as to screw ’is helmet on.” * * * * Rookie: Yes, Cutie, my mother had a great sense of humour. Sweetie: She must. She had you! *** . * ' RETURN OF THE WANDERERS! For a week the sergeant had drilled the awkward squad; and now he stood, voice worn to a whisper, sweat pouring down his face, and he told them his life story: — “When I was a boy,” he said, “I had a box of wooden soldiers. After I had listened at Sunday School to the beauty and happiness of charity, I was softened enough to give the soldiers to a poor boy in the same street. Then I cried and wanted ’em back. “My mother said, ‘Don’t cry, Tom, you’ll get your wooden soldiers back one day.’ “And”—his cracked voice rose to a roar — “you lopsided, mutton-headed, one-eyed, soft-brained set of animated wooden rolling pins THAT DAY IS HERE!”