Edith Wharton, at her flat in Paris, told a war story.
“The American wounded were being brought in from the Marne battlefield,” she said, “and a fussy American woman in a khaki uniform and Sam Browne belt bent over a stretcher and said:
“‘Is this case an officer or only a man?’
“The brawny corporal who stood beside the stretcher gave a grim laugh and said:
“‘Well, lady, he ain’t no officer, but he’s been hit twice in the innards, both legs is busted, he’s got bullets in both arms and we dropped him three times without his lettin’ out a squawk, so I guess we can call him a man.’”
WANTED SOMETHING STATIONARY
On an American transport two days out from New York:
First Sambo, who is really enjoying the sea, to his dark companion, who has gone below: “Nigger! Come on up! We’re passing a ship!”
Voice from below: “I don’t want to see no ship. You jes’ call me when we’re passing a tree!”