Stopping his automobile, General Pershing sent his orderly to find out what the offense was for which the two soldiers were serving their sentence. Upon the orderly's return he reported that the two men had taken "French leave" of their company several days before this time. They were jealous because certain of their fellows "had been sent up ahead to fight" while they had been left behind. And they were eager to fight. They had enlisted and come to France for that express purpose. And now to be left behind! The thought was more than the two Yankee boys could endure. Fight they could and fight they would—with or without specific orders from their officers. And fight they did, for without any ceremony they departed for the front one night and kept on going until they found it. According to their own story they "found war and mixed in." And also they were found out and sentenced to serve five days at the woodpile as a penalty for their disobedience and over-hasty zeal. It is said General Pershing hastily departed from the spot and that he laughed heartily at the story of Americans who were punished not because they were not willing to fight, but were so eager that they did not wait for such a little thing as orders or commands. And then the General fell to talking about his favorite theme—the daring and bravery of his men in the campaign against the Moros.
One day in Paris, General Pershing saw a tiny man—a dwarf—upon the sidewalk of the street through which he was passing at the time. The little man instantly recalled to the commander the wedding of Datto Dicky of Jolo. The little chieftain was about to be married. There was a current report that he was the smallest man in the world, but the statement has not been verified. At all events, whatever he may have lacked in stature he more than made up in his power over the tribe of which he was a chief.
At a fair in Zamboanga, Datto Dicky was about to take unto himself a wife, the little lady being as diminutive as her prospective husband. After the formal wedding General Pershing presented to the bride a tiny house in every way adapted to the needs of such a diminutive couple. The dwelling stood on stilts on the beach, a thing of beauty in the eyes of all the Moros that were attending the fair.
The tiny chieftain and his bride gratefully accepted the present of the little building, which they occupied during their honeymoon. Upon their return to Jolo they in turn gave their present to the children of the General and they used it as a playhouse. As Datto Dicky is said to have been just two feet and three inches in height the little children of the American governor doubtless found the structure much to their liking and well adapted to their needs. They were as delighted over Dicky's generosity to them as the diminutive chieftain had been over the unexpected gift their father had given him.
The following incidents are taken from the New York Times:
"About ten years ago he and Mrs. Pershing were in Paris and the General, who was then a captain, was suffering from a slight indisposition, which his doctor thought might be attributable to smoking. Upon Mrs. Pershing's insistence the captain went to Mannheim where there was a famous cure. The resident doctor examined him and advised that he give up smoking. It happened that Pershing had always been an inveterate smoker. His cigar was a part of his life. He wrestled with the question a day or two and made up his mind that he would follow the medical advice.
"When asked if he hadn't found the job a hard one and whether he wasn't still tempted the reply was:
"'Not in the least, the only hard thing was in making up his mind. He had hardly given the matter a thought since.'
"There are two subjects which the General will always talk about with interest—his farming experience and his four years with the Moros in the Philippines.
"He loves to hark back to those days when his highest obligation was to get out into the cornfield at the very earliest minute in the morning that there was daylight enough to see the ears of corn. When he was fourteen he took the management of the farm. His father had been a rich man, but the panic of 1873 broke him. John was the oldest of nine children and he had to go to the front. In everything that he does now I can detect the influence of his early training. I can see in the General of to-day the farmer boy with his contempt of hardship, the country school teacher with his shepherding instinct for those around him and the general wariness of country bringing-up. It is inexorably true that the boy is father to the man."