"In reference to 17326 Pte. Hogan we note that his date of birth is 10/7/17. Please place him in his proper category."
To which Jimmy replied:—
"As according to your showing 17326 Pte. Hogan will not be born for another four days we are placed in a position of some difficulty.
Signed ————
"P.S.—What if, when the interesting event occurs 17326 Pte. Hogan should be a girl?
"P.S.S.—Or twins?"
Our Albert Edward is just back from one of those Army finishing schools where the young subaltern's knowledge of Shakespeare and the use of the globes is given a final shampoo before he is pushed over the top. Albert Edward's academy was situated in a small town where schools are maintained by all our brave Allies; it is an educational centre. The French school does the honours of the place and keeps a tame band, which gives tongue every Sunday evening in the Grand Place. Thither repair all the young ladies of the town to hear the music. Thither also repair all the young subalterns, also for the purpose of hearing the music.
At the end of every performance the national anthems of all our brave Allies are played, each brave Ally standing rigidly to attention the while, in compliment to the others. As we have a lot of brave Allies these days, all with long national war-whoops, this becomes somewhat of a strain.
One morning the French bandmaster called on the Commandant of the English school.
"Some Americans have arrived," said he. "They are naturally as welcome as the sunshine, but" (he sighed) "it means yet another national anthem."