SOLDIERS OF MISFORTUNE
["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,
Thomas Atkins.
["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.]
Letter from a Private in the German Army to a Private in the British Army.
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
Karl Schneider.