“I don’t know what he’s going to do. I hope he’s not going to give us a revival meeting or something of that sort. I hope he knows that one-third of these fellows are Roman Catholics.”
Well, of course I knew, and I was laying my plans accordingly. What right have you or I when we have got a mixed crowd like that to try to cram our preconceived programme down everybody’s throat? The officer, who was one of my friends, said to the Colonel, “I don’t think you need trouble, sir. He’s all right, and knows his job.”
When we were ready, I went to the Colonel, and said, “We are quite ready to begin, sir.”
The Colonel rose and announced, “Officers, non-commissioned officers, and men, I now introduce to you Gipsy Smith, who will perform.”
Now, the first thing I wanted to do was to disarm all prejudice in the mind of both officers and men. So I said, “Are you ready, boys?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, we’ll have our opening hymn, ‘Keep the home fires burning.’”
And didn’t those boys sing that! Some of them were smoking, and I wasn’t going to tell them not to smoke. That would have put their backs up. They were British boys and they knew what to do when the right moment came. And so I said, “Boys, you sang that very well, but you were not all singing. Now, if we have another, will you all sing?” And they answered, “Yes.” I knew if they sang they couldn’t smoke. So we had “Pack up your troubles,” and this time every smoke was out and every boy was singing. “We’ll have another,” said I, when they had finished; “we’ll have—
‘Way down in Tennessee
Just try to think of me
Right on my mother’s knee.’”
I knew if I got them round their mothers’ knees I should be all right.