A.-D.-C. "What the deuce are you men doing here right in the line of fire? Clear out at once! They're firing ball cartridge, not blank."
Unmoved Private (who has found an excellent place from which to view the attack practice). "Ther' now. We was just a-zaying as we thought 'twas bullets by the zound of 'em!"
A review of the Royal (Sub)marines
near the Goodwin Sands.
(You could hardly "tell the Marines" in their
new sub-aqueous uniform.)
We are happy to announce that the Lords of the Admiralty have issued an order for the distribution of medals to the officers and seamen who served in the naval actions hereunder specified. We understand the medals are of gold, set round with diamonds of the most costly description. Great caution will be used in the distribution, to prevent fraud in personating deceased officers, &c.
—A.D. 876. King Alfred's engagement with and destruction of the Danish fleet.
—1350. Great sea-fight between the English and the combined fleets of France and Spain.
—1588. Destruction of the Spanish Armada.
—1702. Admiral Benbow's engagement with the French.
—1761. Siege and capture of Belleisle.
N.B. No officer or seaman will be entitled to a medal in respect of the last-mentioned siege, unless he can satisfy their lordships that he was "there all the while."
Regular (manœuvring with Yeomanry). "Got to give up my arms, have I? Umph! This comes of going out with a lot of darned Volunteers."
Yeomanry Manœuvres. (First Day in Camp.)—Officer. "What's all this? What are you doing with that cask?"
Trooper. "Tent equipment, sir!"
The colonel is wondering what manœuvre he ought to execute in the circumstances.
Lieutenant Nobs (just arrived). "How long will you take to drive me to the fort, Cabby?"
Cabby. "Ten minutes, Capting, by the shortcut through the halleys. But the military allus goes the long way round, through the fashionable part o' the town, yer honour, which takes an hour."
[Cabby gets his hour.
Officer (examining a Mounted Infantry class). "Well, I think you understand about the hoof and what the frog is. Now, just tell me where you would expect to find corns?"
Mounted Infantry Recruit (suspecting a catch). "In the manger, sir."
Musketry Instructor (who wishes, by simple practical examples, to bring the fact of the air's resistance and elasticity to the mind of intelligent pupil, No. 450, Private Jones), loq. "For instance, you have seen an air-cushion, and felt that it contained something you could not compress. What was it?"
Private Jones (readily). "'Orse 'air, sir!"
[Enthusiastic instructor tries again.
Captain of Volunteers. "Dress back, No. 3, do dress back. Comp'ny! Fours! As y' were! No. 3, Mr. Buffles, how often am I to speak to you, sir? Will you dress back, sir; further still, sir. You are not dressed exactly yet, sir, by a——"
Buffles (goaded to madness). "Bet yer five pounds I am—there!"
In the House of Commons, and elsewhere, the Secretary of State for War is accustomed to have appeals made to him to assist in providing facilities for the engagement and remunerative occupation of soldiers and non-commissioned officers no longer on active service. We are glad to notice, from the subjoined advertisement, which appeared in the Daily News, that the public themselves are taking the matter in hand:—
TWO GENERALS WANTED, as Cook and Housemaid for one lady. Light, comfortable situation. Good wages.—Apply, &c.
The advertiser, it will be observed, flies at higher rank than that usually considered in this connection. But the situation is "light" and "comfortable," with "good wages" pertaining, and she has some right to look for applicants of superior station. We presume that on festive occasions the gallant officers would be expected to don their uniforms. Few things would be more striking than to see a general, probably wearing his war medals, sweeping the front door-step, whilst through the kitchen window a glimpse was caught of a brother officer, in full tog, larding a pheasant.
By the courtesy of the Admiralty H.M.S. Buzzard has been anchored as a permanent guardship of honour immediately opposite the approach to Mr Punch's offices in Bouverie Street. The compliment is much appreciated.
Further changes in our Navy are announced. Chaplains are to be abolished, and the navigating officers are to include in their duties those of sky-pilots.
A Cockney's Question on the Navy.—Does a Port Admiral mean an Admiral who is laid down for a long series of years, and not decanted for service till he is very old?
Fleet Surgeon. "There doesn't seem much wrong with you, my man. What's the matter?"
A. B. "Well, sir, it's like this, sir. I eats well, an' I drinks well, an' I sleeps well; but when I sees a job of work—there, I'm all of a tremble!"
(Aldershot.) General (to Irish recruit). "Can you tell me how many species of pack animals there are?"
(No answer.)
General. "Well, do you know any kind of pack animal?"
Recruit (inspired by recollection of many days' pack-drill.) "Yes, sorr. A defaulter, sorr!"
Colonel (who is taking a turn round to see how his subs are getting along with their road sketching). "You know, this won't do. You should be able to ride about the country, and make sketches as you go."
Jones (not getting along at all nicely, thank you). "Well, sir, if I could do that, sir, I should chuck up the army, and join a circus!"
Infuriated C. O. 10th V. B. Mudfordshire Fusiliers (who has ordered bugler to sound the "Cease fire" several times without effect). "Don't you hear me, fellow? Why the deuce don't you sound the 'Cease fire' when I tell you?"
His Bugler. "If ye plaze, zur, a've blowed a quid o' bacca down spout t'ould trumputt, awn I can't make un speak!"
["Colonel Crofton, commanding the Eastern District, has decided that the 'quiff' is 'unsoldierly,' and 'disfiguring,' and has ukased its abolition. The 'quiff' is the forelock worn by Mr. Thomas Atkins."—Pall Mall Gazette.]
Letter from a Private in the British Army to a Private in the German Army.
Dere Ole Sauerkraut,—Ow' 're yer going along? Jest a line from the Eastern Distric' to tell yer that we've all got the fair 'ump. An' I'm blest if our colonel ain't an' been pitchin' on our 'air. When we 'is in the fightin' line they yells, "Keep your 'air on, boys!" but when we gets 'ome, sweet 'ome, they says take it orf. There's 'air! I must tell yer we wears a hartful curl on our forrids wot is knowed as a "quiff," and I give yer my word it's a little bit ov orl rite! Susan (with lots o' cash as bein' only daughter of a plumber), wot I walks out with, simply 'angs on to it with both 'ands, so to speak. Well, our colonel says the "quiff" is "unsoldierly" and "disfiguring," and we 'ave got to bloomin' well lop it orf, no hank. This busts my charnst with Susan.
Yores melancholy-like,
["The German uniform is to be changed to a grey-brown. The officers are particularly annoyed at the change, and complain that they might at least have been allowed to keep the bright buttons on their tunics. These are also to be dulled down to the new drab régime. Everything that is not strictly utilitarian—tassels, lace, and decorations—is to be banished from the parade-ground."—Westminster Gazette.]
Mein Gut Friend,—We haf the both trouble much got! You haf the beautiful Susan verloren. I my Katrine am deprived of. Because why? I was so schmart lookin' in mein regimentalen blue dat Katrine fell in luff with me on first sighten and called me in ways of fun her leetle "blue teufel"! But now, ach Himmel! she at me cochet die snooken! "Cuts," as you say. I broken-ar-arted quite am. Because why? The Office die Warren as us ordered to take off der blue regimentalen. We haf in brown-grey to dress ourselves. Ah! dirdy, bad, rotten colour! And no more ze schon buttons to haf that the beating heart of Katrine conquered. Farewell to Katrine! She brown ates.—Zo longen
Commander. What is your complaint against this boy?
Bluejacket. Well, sir, as I was a-walkin' arft, this 'ere boy, 'e up an' calls me a bloomin' idjit. Now, 'ow would you like to be called a bloomin' idjit, supposin' you wasn't one?
Motor Lieutenant, Motor Volunteer Corps (to General in his charge). "I say, sir, if we"—(bump!)—"upset"—(bang!)—"shall I get"—(bump! bang!)—"a military funeral too?"
Perilous position of a gallant officer of Volunteers, on a recent march, who (ever thoughtful for the comfort of his hired charger) chooses the cooling waters of the ford in preference to the bridge. "Here! Hi! Help, somebody! Hold on! I mean halt! He won't come out, and he wants to lie down, and I believe he's going to rear!"
Trafalgar Day.—(At the Board School.) Teacher. Now can any boy tell me why Nelson's column was erected in Trafalgar Square?
Johnny Grimes (immediately). Please, sir, to 'elp 'im up to 'eaven, when 'e died in the arms of the Wictory.
Horse-buying "Expert." "Yes, it certainly does look more like a 'towel-horse' than anything else; still it'll have to do!"—Passed.
"How dreadfully stout the general is getting!"
"Yes, isn't it fortunate? Otherwise he wouldn't be able to wear all his medals!"
Augury from fowls of air
Back to Tuscan gramarye dates.
Birds in February pair:
Now then, skippers, choose your mates.
Military Man. "Well! What are yer a starin' at—ain't yer never seed a sodger before?"
["The long-proposed introduction of motor-cars into the army for transport purposes is on the point of accomplishment."—The Outlook.]
... "Comrades!" cried the proud general, addressing his troops (standing around him in the circular square ordered by the latest drill book), "at last we are about to reap the reward of our exertions. Thanks to our trusty motor-cars, we have traversed the desert at an average speed of twenty-five miles an hour. Our casualties have been few and insignificant. A dozen or so of the engines blew up, but not more than fifty men perished by these accidents. We have, indeed, to mourn the loss of some of the 75th Dragoons, whose motor-car went wrong in its steering, and rushed at express speed into the middle of a lake. And not a few of our heroes have been arrested by the native police on the charge of furious driving, with the result that they now languish in dungeons, awaiting bail. But what are these trifles, compared with the glory that will soon be ours? The enemy are now within thirty miles of us—a distance which, with a little extra pressure, we can cover in an hour. So, forward! Mount motor-cars! Tie down the safety-valves! Seize starting levers! Now, when I give the word! Are you read——"
At this moment a grey-haired officer interrupted him.
"Alas, sir!" he cried, "we cannot advance! It is impossible!"
"Impossible?" echoed the general, in amazement. "Why?"
"For the very good reason that—we've run out of oil!"
A loud groan burst from the army on hearing the dreadful news; the voice of the general himself shook as he replied:
"Then, for once, we must ride."
"You forget, sir," said the other, "that nowadays we have no horses. Shall we—march?"
"No!" cried the intrepid leader. "March? Never! Death before dishonour! Men, your general may have to die a rather unpleasant death; but never, in this scientific age, never will he insult you by suggesting that you should walk!" and rapturous cheers from the army greeted this noble utterance. But just when hope was dying in every breast, and the only possible course seemed to be to wait patiently until the enemy attacked and destroyed them, a small motor-car with red-hot bearings whizzed through the crowd and stopped before the general. Need we mention that its driver was none other than Henry de Plantagenet? (He's my hero, of course, and he went out scouting on his own account—as heroes do—in the last chapter.)
"Sir," he cried triumphantly, "I have news, great news!"
"Well?" said the general.
"Yes, it is a well, a well of natural petroleum, in fact, which I have discovered not half-a-mile away!"
The general clasped his hand, while the army roared themselves hoarse with delight. And, an hour later, only a faint flicker of dust on the horizon showed where the expedition was scurrying towards the doomed enemy.
Small Boy (with shrill voice).
"'Fightin'—with—the Sev'nth—Royal Fu-siliers—
The famous Fu-siliers—
The fightin' Fu-siliers,'" &c., &c.
Irritable War-Office Clerk. "Con-found the Seventh Royal Fusiliers! I'm sick of 'em! Blest if I don't pack 'em off to the Channel Islands!"
[Does so.
She. "How do you like my new hat?"
Sutherland Highlander. "By Jove, what extraordinary headgear you women do wear!"
Thomas the Drummer. "Well, Emmar, you needn't take on so. I loves you stright enough; but 'angin' round the barrick gates, askin' for me, is the sort of thing I will not 'ave!"
Guardsman. "I just told one of those Volunteer officers that he must not come on parade with his pockets unbuttoned, and the fellow had the demmed impudence to say he was sorry he couldn't oblige me, but his corps hadn't buttons!"
Riding Master. "I thought you said you could ride?"
Candidate for the Imperial Yeomanry. "Ye-yes. But you don't get arf a chance 'ere, the corners are so bloomin' sharp!"
How to make a Recruit.—Take a raw lad from the country (the younger the better) and fill his head with military froth. Add a shilling and as much beer as will be covered by the bounty-money. Let him simmer, and serve him up thick before a magistrate the next morning. Let him be sworn in, and he will then be nicely done.
How to make a Soldier.—Take your recruit, and thrust him roughly into a depôt. Mix him up well with recruits from other regiments until he has lost any esprit de corps which may have been floating upon the surface when he enlisted. Now let him lie idle for a few years until his strength is exhausted, and then, at ten minutes' notice, pack him off to India.
Another Method.—Take your recruit, and place him at headquarters. Let him mix freely with all the bad characters that have been carefully kept in the regiment, until his nature has become assimilated to theirs. For three years pay him rather less than a ploughboy's wages, and make him work harder than a costermonger's donkey. Your soldier having now reached perfection, you will turn him out of the service with economical dressing.
How to make a Deserter.—A very simple and popular dish. Take a soldier, see that he is perfectly free from any mark by which he may be identified, and fill his head with grievances. Now add a little opportunity, and you have, or, rather, you have not, your deserter.
Another and Simpler Method.—Take a recruit, without inquiring into his antecedents. Give him his kit and bounty-money and close your eyes. The same recruit may be used for this dish (which will be found to be a fine military hash) any number of times.
How to make an Army.—Take a few scores of infantry regiments and carefully proceed to under-man them. Add some troopers without horses and some batteries without guns. Throw in a number of unattached generals, and serve up the whole with a plentiful supply of control mixture.
Another and easier Method.—Get a little ink, a pen, and a sheet of paper. Now dip your pen in the ink, and with it trace figures upon your sheet of paper. The accompaniment to this dish is usually hot water.
How to make a Panic.—Take one or two influential newspapers in the dead season of the year, and fill them with smartly written letters. Add a few pointed leading articles, and pull your army into pieces. Let the whole simmer until the opening of Parliament. This once popular mess is now found to be rather insipid, unless it is produced nicely garnished with plenty of Continental sauce, mixed with just an idea of invasion relish. With these zests, however, it is always found to be toothsome, although extremely expensive.
The Review at Spithead.—It is wonderful that this affair was not a sad mistake; for there is no doubt that the reviewers were all at sea.
Young Yeomanry Officer (airing his exploits in the war). "And among other things, don't you know, I had a horse shot under me."
Fair Ignoramus. "Poor thing! What was the matter with it?"
Soldier. "Now, then! You must move away from here."
Rude Boy. "Ah! But you mustn't, old feller!"
Colonel. "I've never met with a smarter drill than yourself, sergeant, or one more thoroughly up to all his duties; but you've one most objectionable habit, and that is your constant use of bad language, and swearing at the men."
Sergeant. "Sir, perhaps I am a little sarcashtic!"
First A.B. "Oh lor, Bill, my big toe!—f-f-f—it's something horful this morning." (Distant whistle.) "Oh yus, that's right! Pipe away! I see hus a clearin' decks for haction, don't you, Bill?"
Second A.B. "No fear! Phew-f-f-f. 'Ere, oh I say, mate, pass us the bicarbonick o' potass, for 'evin's sake!"
["The sailor is allowed 60 ounces of moist food per day, and this is of the wrong kind for a fighting man. This he eats at five different meals. He has about three times as much bread as he should have, and about half as much meat. It is a splendid diet to induce obesity, gout, and laziness."—Dr. Yorke Davies in the "Daily Telegraph."]
Mrs. Ramsbotham tells us her youngest nephew has just become a midshipman in the Royal Navy, and she has given him one of the best aromatic telescopes that could be bought for money.
"We are unanimously of opinion that the British fleet should be put as soon as possible on a firmer and more stable basis!!!"
Scene.—A lecture-chamber at a military college. Lecturer discovered behind a table. Students taking notes.
Lecturer. I have now shown you a colonel and a major. I will disappear for a few seconds, and then appear as a captain.
[Dives under his table.
First Student. What's the lecture about? I got in too late for the beginning.
Second Student. It's on "the Militia."
Lecturer (emerging from his table in fresh regimentals.) Now, my men, you must regard me as your friend as well as your commander. I am responsible for your well-being. (Applause, amidst which the Lecturer resumes his ordinary clothing.) And now, gentlemen, it is unnecessary to give you a sketch of a subaltern, as that genus of the army officer must be known to all of you. And before I go I would be glad to answer any questions.
First Student. Thank you, sir. May I ask why you have been giving this interesting entertainment?
Lecturer. Certainly. To show you, gentlemen, your duty in the Militia. You will be expected to play many parts.
First Student. But surely not simultaneously?
Lecturer. Why, certainly. The old constitutional force is so undermanned in the commissioned ranks, that if the youngest subaltern of a battalion cannot do equally well for colonel, major and captain, the chances are that—well, I would be sorry to answer for the consequences. And now, gentlemen, we will consider how a ballot for soldiering can be established without seriously affecting the cherished rights of the civilian.
[Scene closes upon an unsuccessful attempt to solve the problem.
Captain Smythe (a good soldier, but no society man, to his hostess). "I have to thank you, Mrs. Brown, for an evening which has been—er—after two years on the veld, most enjoyable."
Gigantic Navvy. "Let's walk between yer, gents; folks 'll think you've took up a deserter."
A Memorandum containing a list of rules to be observed during the autumn manœuvres has just been issued. By some strange mistake, the following regulations (which evidently must have appeared in the original document) have been omitted. They are now published for the first time:—
1. Recruits of tender years will not be allowed to draw their bayonets. This rule does not apply to fine growing lads of twelve years old.
2. Buglers will not sound their bugles except by special command of Generals of Divisions. The above-mentioned officers are reminded (for their instruction and guidance) that copper is expensive and should be used as little as possible.
3. Boots will not be worn by the infantry on any march exceeding three miles. Commanding officers are cautioned that shoe-leather has recently greatly increased in value.
4. In the event of two members of the umpire staff being unable to come to an agreement about the respective colours of black and white, they will "draw lots;" id est, one of them will throw into the air a coin of the realm, and before the coin is able to reach the ground, the other will give the word either "heads" or "tails." The choice of cries will be optional. Gold coins will be used by general officers, silver by field officers, and halfpence by all other ranks.
5. Dismounted cavalry will not be allowed to pursue retiring infantry on horseback, unless so ordered by the Commanding Officers of the 83rd (County of Dublin), 85th (the King's County Down), the Connaught Rangers, and the Royal Irish Fusiliers.
6. Should a regiment of infantry halt within two hundred yards of six hostile batteries of artillery to watch the practice, or for any other purpose of instruction, one-tenth of the battalion will be marched to the rear, and will be considered hors de combat during the remainder of the campaign.
7. A village containing one pioneer, one drummer (or bugler) and a quarter-master-sergeant, will be considered fully garrisoned. It will be seen that rules of war are to be followed in every particular, down to the very smallest details, by all concerned in the campaign.
8. As in the previous series of autumn manœuvres, at least, "five minutes' notice" will be given when the army is required to march five miles, or to perform any other military duty requiring zeal, steadiness, and an intimate acquaintance with "Field Exercises, Edition of 1874, Part I."
Jawkins. Why do they always call sailors "tars"?
Pawkins.—Because they're so accustomed to the pitching of the ship.
Bluejacket (who has been hauled twice round the sick bay, yelling inarticulately, by the surgeon with the forceps). "Why, you 'ad me by the tongue!"
Irritable Captain. "Your barrel's disgracefully dirty, sir, and it's not the first time; I've a good mind to——"
Private Flannigan. "Shure, sor, I niver——" Captain (Irish too). "Silence, sir, when you spake to an officer!"
Officer in charge of battery (in a fever lest the time of firing should be a second late). "Why, what are you about, No. 6? Why don't you serve the sponge?"
Bombardier McGuttle. "Hoots toots! Can na' a body blaw their nose?"