TRUTHFUL JAMES.
The Staff of The Muddleton Weekly Gazette, having disguised himself as an ordinary citizen, entered the local hospital in quest of copy. His keen eye immediately singled out a man of solemn, careworn aspect, and to him he directed his footsteps. Two clear grey eyes looked into his, and his greeting was answered politely, though without enthusiasm. Then, exerting all the skill and adroitness which had marked him out for forty years as a coming man in the journalistic world, the visitor put the soldier gradually at his ease and tactfully induced him to recount his experiences.
"I could tell you lots of things what would astonish you, Sir," began the convalescent. "Six months in the trenches gives you plenty of time to pick up tales—and invent them, too; but I don't hold with that. A little exaggeration helps things along, as old Wolff says, but when he goes beyond I'm not with him. No lies—not for Truthful James. That's me, Sir. They call me that in B Company; James being the name what my godfathers and godmothers give me, and Truthful being as you might say an identification mark."
The other nodded and waited in silence.
"Nothing much happened to me for the first three months, but then we was moved further South and a new Sub. joined us. Name of Williamson. Do you know him, Sir? Second-Lieutenant J. J. C. de V. Williamson was his full war paint. Ah, it's a pity you don't. Quite a kid he was, but he could tell you off as free and flowing as a blooming General, and never repeat himself for ten minutes. He stirred things up considerable—specially the enemy. Sniping was his game; two hours regular every morning, with a Sergeant to spot for him and a Corporal to bring him drinks at intervals of ten minutes to keep him cool. He kept count of the Huns he had outed by notches on the post of his dug-out. Every time he rang the bell he'd cut up a notch, and before he'd been with us a month you could have used that post as a four-foot saw.
"Naturally the Huns were riled. You see, we was a salient and they was a salient, and there wasn't more than a hundred yards between us. We could hear them eating quite plainly, when they had anything to eat, and when they hadn't they smoked cigars which smelt worse than all the gas they ever squirted. One day the Sub. strolls up for his morning practice and sees a huge sign above the enemy trench: 'Don't shoot. We are Saxons.' They had relieved the Prussians and they was moving about above their trenches as free as a Band of Hope Saturday excursion.
"'Until anyone proves the contrary,' says our Sub., 'I maintain that Saxons is Germans.' Moreover, says he, 'war is war,' and he had to cut up three more notches on his post afore he could make them understand that his attitude was hostile. When they did grasp it they began to strafe us, and they kep' it up hard all day. When night come our Sub. decided he'd had enough. 'Boys,' he says to us, 'one hour before the crimson sun shoots forth his flaming rays from out of the glowing East them Germans is going to be shifted from that trench. We ain't a-going to make a frontal attack,' he says, 'because some of us might have the misfortune to tear our tunics on the enemy entanglements, and housewives is scarce. We are going to crawl along that hollow on the flank and enfilade the blighters.'
"So we puts a final polish on our bainets and waits. Bimeby we starts out, Sergeant leading the way. We wriggled through the mud like Wapping eels at low tide for the best part of an hour, and at last we got to their trench and halted to listen. There wasn't a sound to be heard; nobody snoring, nobody babbling of beer in his sleep; only absolute silence. Sergeant was lying next to me and I distinctly heard his heart miss several beats. Then all at once we leaps into the air, gives a yell fit to make any German wish he'd never been born, and falls into their trench, doing bainet drill like it would have done your heart good to see. But we stops it as quick as we begun, because there wasn't a single man in that trench. Not one, Sir.
"After a awkward pause, 'The birds have flown,' says our Sub., sorrowful like, as if he'd asked some friends to dinner and the cat had eat the meat.
"'I think, Sir,' says Sergeant, 'that they've abandoned this trench as being untenable, and probably left a few mines behind for us.' I didn't like that. I thought our trench was a much nicer trench in every way, and I felt it was time to think of going back, when suddenly we hears a norrible yell come up from our trench and sounds of blokes jumping about. Yes, Sir, the Germans had made an attack on our trench at the same time, only they had gone round by the other flank, where there was some trees to help them.
"So there they was in our trench, and we in theirs, and dawn just beginning to break. There was only one thing to do. We went back, hoping they would wait for us; but they hopped it quick, same way as they come, and so we finished up just as we was when we started, except for mud. Our Sub. was wild with rage, and he hustled about all the morning looking for defaulters, his face as black as the Kayser's soul; and he even went so far as to curse a Machine Gun Section, which shows you better than words what he felt like. D Company, when they come to relieve us, wouldn't believe a word of it, not till I told them. They had to then, because they knew what my name was. James, Sir, and Truthful as a sort of appendix."
"And there were others, of course, to corroborate your story?"
"To what, Sir?"
"To swear to the truth of it?"
"Oh yes. They swore to it all right. Again and again. But that was nothing to what happened in the same trench when we come back from billets. It was like this here. Our Sub.... What's that you say, Bill?" He broke off. "Time for visitors to leave?"
The Orderly explained that it was so, and, after a cordial leave-taking on the part of the visitor, saw him out and returned.
"Do you know who that was, Jim?" he asked.
"Soon as he started pumping me," replied James, "I offered myself a hundred quid to a bob on his being a noospaper man, but there was no taker at the price, bobs being scarce and me having a dead cert. Suppose I shall be in the local paper on Saturday, Bill?"
"Yes. Thrilling Tales from the Trenches, number forty-three."
"Pity he had to go so soon," sighed James. "I was only just beginning to get into my stride."
Cheerful One (to newcomer, on being asked what the trenches are like). "If yer stands up yer get sniped; if yer keeps down yer gets drowned; if yer moves about yer get shelled; and if yer stands still yer gets court-martialled for frost-bite."
From the current Directory of the London Telephone Service:—
"FOREIGN SERVICES (FRANCE, BELGIUM AND SWITZERLAND).
Communication may be obtained between London and Paris (including the suburbs), Brussels, Antwerp, Basle, Geneva, Lausanne, and certain provincial towns in France and Belgium. Full particulars may be obtained on application to the Controller."
We are afraid these facilities, as far as Belgium is concerned, will shortly be withdrawn. The new Postmaster-General has heard that there is a war on.
"Winter Laying Strain pure bred White Leghorn Cockerels; record layers: 5s."
Bath & Wilts Chronicle.
Smith minor's translation of ab ovo usque ad mala is thus justified: "It is up to the males to lay eggs."
"'Thundering' and 'nous' are two of the expressive words of which Sir Ian Hamilton made use of in his Suvla Bay report. It was the Royal Artillery that did 'thundering good shooting.' 'Nous,' meaning gumption, is a word greatly in use in Lancashire."
Daily Mirror.
It has also been met with in Greece.
"Two labourers employed by the —— Distillery Company fell a distance of fifty feet into a barley vat yesterday, and when released were found to be suffering from carbolic acid poisoning."—Weekly Dispatch.
This paragraph will no doubt be freely quoted by temperance advocates as showing what whiskey is really made of.
From a notice issued by the Sydney Chamber of Commerce:—
"The Fair, which will be officially opened by His Excellency the Governor, will be held at the Town Hall, and will be followed by a Luncheon. Space will be allotted by the foot frontage from 10/- to 15/-."
An excellent idea for City dinners.