Humour Under Fire 1914-18

Observation Post, Volume 1, Issue 30, 11 December 1942, Page 8

Humour Under Fire 1914-18

Ev'en twenty-five years after the war of 1914-1918 the humour is still recalled with relish. War humour was unique, and much of it has become classic be—like all the best humour—usually had a serious background, was often in fact, a gesture in the face of hardship, suffering, danger and death. It helped not only to “win the war,” but to stave off disaster in critical times. When the history of the present conflict is told it will be found that humour had its place in keeping morale high, stories often told to keep the soul quiet in days arid nights that were desperately in need of laughter to drive away madness. The Britisher is a great humorist at heart, that is one reason why he is such a great fighter. Humour under fire and in action was the most courageous brand of all. We hope that you will enjoy our little collection of war stories, most of them with an authentic background. W.O. 11. L. V. WINKS.

WHAT’S THAT ONE? Major H. de Montgomery in “Sword and Stirrup,” writes , that while at Eeoust his battery had to evacuate large dumps of shells and cartridges under heavy fire. As the enemy shells came over, a sergeant kept repeating, That a five-nine, that’s an eight—and so on. “What’s that one, serg?” queried a deep Scottish voice as a missile of even higher dimensions crumped over. “Now they’re throwing the b y gun at us” the sergeant replied. , WHAT HAPPENED TO THE GUN? In the days of munition shortage our artillery fired a few rounds, which were acknowledged by as many hundreds from the Boche batteries. A Tommy, having stood it for some time, arose in his wrath and shouted across to the Boche lines, “ ’Ave a ’eart, Fritz, ’ave a ’eart! We’ve broke our ruddy gun!

A LIMIT TO HIS PATROITISM This is the story of the Maori pioneer who ventured to criticise the preparation of the stew. It was a particularly hot day and the H.E’s had made the ground fairly loose, and the wind blew the dust around. “Py korry,” remarked Hori who was peeling potatoes on fatigue duty, “I tink you petter put te lid on te dixie. Oara te dust ket into te stew. “You mind your own b — business,” snarled the cook. “You’re here to do what you’re told. Shut up! ” “Tat orright,’ ’answered Hori. “I’m here to serve my plinking country not to purry well eat it!” TAKE THE LOT ! A Gendarme had suspicions that the j house of a certain Madame in the Army ; area contained ill-gotten Army stores, so he decided to investigate. A search j of the house brought to light a number j of Army blankets, tunics and other, military articles. He placed them in . a heap outside the 'house, and then j went to obtain a cart for their removal. j When .he returned he found a baby | sitting on top of the heap. He said the French equivalent for “Whaffor?”; “Oh! ” exclaimed Madame feelingly, I “'those things you colletced are sou-1 venirs from the soldiers who visited my' place, and so is the baby. You can’t only take the useful things. ’ ’ The Gendarme countermanded the order for the , cart. HOW DID NOAH MANAGE? Some N.Z.V.C. men were one night | loading horses and mules into railway trucks at Calais. One of the Diggers was trying in vain to persuade a mule to enter a truck. However, the mule had different ideas. The R.T.O. came along and after a good stare at the conflict, asked the “ Angry One” if he could help in any way. “Yes, sir,” said the Digger. “Show me how Noah got these h -s into the Ark. ’ ONE FOR THE M.O. There is the story of the celebrated Sydney doctor, senior M.O. in an Australian convalescent camp, who every morning inspected convalescent Diggers to diagnose their fitness for a return to the place where there were no hospital comforts. Brown was before him, trying hard to prove how serious his complaint .was, when the M.O. broke in impatiently, “Come, come, my man! If you were in civilian life you would not come to me with such a trifling complaint, would you?” Brown, realising that his chance was “nil,” bitterly answered, “Nc blooming fear. I would go to a doctor. ’ 7 HOT STUFF A party of Diggers on final leave ir a back-blocks township were ‘en rout< to Apple Tree Flat to a dance.’ Thej were in a buggy, about five or six o: i them, including the two village beau ties. The latter were armed with t , copious supply of extra strong pepper ments, and being well brought up, pass ed the sweets around. Everybody chbw ed away in silence for a few minutes when one of the Diggers broke the spel by viciously spitting over the side “Say Marge,’ he drawled, “’ave yoi

got any more of them lollies?” “Yes,' Jack,” replied the damsel. ‘‘Would' you like another?” ‘‘No thanks,” re-1 plied Jack, “but for goodness sake don’t drop one or you’ll start a flaming bush fire. ” ANTICIPATING THE EVENT The troopship was lying in Lemnos Harbour before the landing, and the Colonel decided to entertain some of the I Navy so he sent a morse message inviting the Captain and officers of H.M.S. Blankshire to dinner. The invitation was accepted and the chief steward j gloomily pointed out that we were a full ship and that the most, extra he could squeeze in at the tables was nine. I So',a second message was sent to the Captain. ‘‘Bring only eight officers.” Now as you know in the morse code a dot stands for “e” and a dash for “t” and the signaller didn’t work at Navy speed. The message received with great hilarity on the ‘‘Blankshire” read: “Bring only tight officers.” THE OLD BLIGHTER There is a good story told about that grand old soldier Lord Plumer of Messines. Twice a day it was customary for the guard to turn out. to him, and some of them tumbling out in a hurry once to a false alarm were re-assured by the sentry, with an eye on the main entrance,

"that the old blighter hadn’t come out yet.” “It’s alright,’’ said the General .pleasantly from a window just above, <‘the old blighter will be down in a /■minnt.A if