“Well,” growled the captain, “I suppose I’ll have to put up with him!” Turning to the private, he snapped, “What were you in civilian life?”
“Professor of mathematics at the State College, sir,” was the unexpected reply.
GLAD HE TALKED TO GEN. PERSHING
He was in khaki, but it’s better not to say what branch of the service he is in, and it certainly would be cruel to hint at his company. There are probably gold bars in it, and the guardhouse is not the place for a returned soldier. Here’s the story he tells. He says it’s true:
“Sometimes overseas,” he said, “it seems as if every other man you met was a second lieutenant.
“One day last spring Gen. Pershing and his staff found themselves out in the open with a chance for a bit of rest, the first in days, but nary a place to take it in.
“Well, ‘Black Jack’ thought what was good enough for his men wasn’t so worse for him. He just quietly rolled himself up in his cape and lay down under a hedge where the mud wasn’t more than a foot deep, and the staff took the next hedge and did likewise.
“Pretty soon along comes a regiment and stops for a minute. Some of the men drop out for a snooze, and one of them comes along to the hedge which was ‘Black Jack’s’ private ‘boodoir’ and lies down beside him. Pretty soon he begins to talk to the chief friendly like, and Pershing talks to him and it was mighty dark.
“Pretty soon the regiment’s ordered to fall in and the Johnny leaves ‘Black Jack’ casual like and starts to rejoin. But on his way he meets an orderly and he asks him, ‘Who’s that decent guy under the hedge?’