<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>SOMETHING NEW FOR THE MARINES</h2>
<p class="drop-cap">“IF CORPORAL —— ever wrote a better story for
his newspaper than the one he has sent to us, I
should certainly like to read it.” This high praise comes
from Maj. W. H. Parker, head of the Marine Recruiting
Service in New York, and is bestowed upon a letter in
<i>The Recruiters’ Bulletin</i>, which was written by a marine,
formerly a reporter in Philadelphia and now “Somewhere
in France.” He rejoices at the start that “at
last it is happening,” which “happening” is that the
marines, “every scrapping one of them down to the last
grizzled veteran, are undergoing new experiences—learning
new tricks.” Of course this is beyond possibility,
everybody will say, and the ex-reporter admits
that—</p>
<p>One would think so after hearing of their experiences
in far-away China, Japan, and the Philippines,
near-by Cuba, Haiti, and Mexico, and other places which
God forgot and which you and I never heard of; after
hearing stories of daredevil bravery, fierce abandon
and disregard for life and limb in the faithful discharge
of their duties as soldiers of the sea and guardians of
the peace in Uncle Sam’s dirty corners.</p>
<p>And yet here in France, among people of their own
color and race, of paved streets and taxicabs, among the
old men and women of the villages, among the <i>poilus</i>
coming and going in a steady stream to and from the
front, the marine is learning new things every day.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Packing up “back home” on a few hours’ notice is
no new experience to the marine. Marching aboard a
transport, with the date and hour of sailing unknown,
is taken as a matter of course by the veteran. There
is no cheering gallery, no weeping relatives, wife, or
sweethearts, as he leaves to carry out the business in
hand. It is just the same as if you were going to your
office in the morning. You may return in time for dinner
or you may be delayed. The only difference is that
sometimes the marines do not return.</p>
<p>Although life aboard the transport which carried the
first regiment of marines to new fields of action in
France was a matter of routine to the average sea-going
soldier, there was added the zest of expectation of an
encounter with one of the floating perils, the “sub.” It
was but a matter of two or three days, however, when
everyone became accustomed to the numerous lookouts
stationed about the ship, the frequent “abandon ship”
drills, the strange orders which came down the line, and
the new-fangled rules and regulations which permitted
no lights or smoking after sundown.</p>
<p>Kaiser “Bill’s” pet sharks were contemptuously referred
to as the “tin lizzies” of the sea. “We must play
safe and avoid them,” was the policy of those entrusted
with the safety of more than 2,000 expectant fighters,
however. And we met them, too. Not one or two of
them, but—(here the censor interfered.)</p>
<p>Since his arrival in France the marine has spent day
after day in learning new things, not the least of which
is that contrary to his usual experience of finding about
him a hostile people, rifle in hand, and unknown danger
ahead, he is among a people who welcome him as a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</SPAN></span>
friend and ally in the struggle against a common enemy.
With the arrival of the American troops, the appealing
outstretched hands of France were changed to hands of
welcome, creating an atmosphere that might easily have
turned the heads of men more balanced than the marines
after being confined for more than two weeks aboard a
ship, but—</p>
<p>Here, again, one comes in contact with the matter-of-fact
administration of the marines. Arriving under such
circumstances, the landing and encampment of the marines
were effected with a military precision and businesslike
efficiency which allowed no one for a moment
to forget the serious nature of the mission upon which
he had embarked.</p>
<p>Stores and supplies were loaded on trucks and, in
less than three hours after the order was given to disembark,
the marines, with their packs strapped over the
shoulders, were marching to their camp just on the outskirts
of the seaport town of ——. Within another hour
the whole regiment was under canvas, field-desks and
typewriter-chests were unlocked, and regimental and
other department offices were running along at full
swing.</p>
<p>And that was the beginning of the period of training
during which the marine is learning everything that is
to be known about waging twentieth-century warfare.
He is taking a post-graduate course in the intricacies of
modern trench-building, grenade-throwing, and barbed-wire
entanglements. And the very best men of the
French Army are his instructors.</p>
<p>The marine is also learning the “lingo” of this country,
the nicer phrases of the language as well as the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</SPAN></span>
slang of the trenches. But in the majority of cases
experience was his teacher. Upon the arrival of the
transport liberty hours were arranged for the marines,
and, armed with a “Short Vocabulary of French Words
and Phrases,” with which all had been supplied, they
invaded the cafés, restaurants, and shops of the little
old seaport town.</p>
<p>And it was the restaurants where one’s ignorance of
French was most keenly felt. All sorts of queer and yet
strangely familiar noises emanated from the curtained
windows of the <i>buvettes</i> along the streets. Upon investigation
it would be discovered that a marine, having lost
his “vocabulary,” was flapping his arms and cackling for
eggs, earnestly baahing for a lamb stew, or grunting to
the best of his ability in a vain endeavor to make
<i>madame</i> understand that he wanted roast pork. Imagine
his chagrin to find that “pig” and “pork,” as shown on
page 16, are “<i>porc</i>” in French and are pronounced just
the same as in good old American. But the scenes that
presented themselves on Sundays or <i>fête</i> days—take the
4th or 14th of July, for example—were such as never
had been seen in any French town before. Picture a
tiny café, low and whitewashed, ancient, weather-beaten,
but immaculately clean, with its heavy ceiling-beams
and huge fireplace with brass and copper furnishings.
With this background imagine just as many tables as the
little place can hold about which are crowded French
and American soldiers, sailors, and marines.</p>
<p>The table in the corner there, for instance: two <i>poilus</i>,
two American “jackies,” two marines, and an old Breton
peasant farmer with his wife, fat, uncomprehending,
and wild-eyed, and his daughter, red-lipped and of fair<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</SPAN></span>
complexion—these three in from the country for a holiday,
the women arrayed in the black cloth and velvet
costumes, bright-colored silk aprons, and elaborate linen
head-dress which identify them as native of a certain
locality.</p>
<p>One of the “jackies” sings with gusto service songs
of strong and colorful language, singing to himself save
for the half-amused and wondering stares of the peasants.
The younger of the Frenchmen shows by taking
off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt where the shell-fragment
penetrated which caused the paralysis in his
left arm and sent him home on a month’s furlough, and
the Americans eye with interest the actual fragment
itself, now doing duty as a watch-charm.</p>
<p>But the hubbub and racket cease, and every one rushes
to the windows and door as the Marine Band comes
swinging along the water-front, playing with catching
rhythm “Our Director.” The French burst out in cries
of “<i>Vive l’Amérique!</i>” The fever spreads, and our
soldiers and sailors yell “<i>Vive la France!</i>” or as near to
it as they can get, as the procession marches by, and the
fat old peasant woman says with full approval, “That’s
beautiful!”</p>
<p>Another letter from the permanent training-camp of
the marines, published in <i>The Recruiters’ Bulletin</i>,
tells of an inspection of the regiment by General Pershing
and General Pétain, the French Commander-in-Chief.
We read “that the piercing eyes of ‘Black Jack’
rarely miss an unshaven face, badly polished shoes, or
the sloppy appearance of anyone” among the soldiers
under inspection, and the writer relates:</p>
<p>Together with the Commander-in-Chief of all the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</SPAN></span>
French forces and accompanied by several French generals,
representing the most important military units in
France, General Pershing made one of his now famous
whirlwind inspection tours and descended upon the
marines amid a cloud of dust which marked the line of
travel of the high-powered French touring-cars which
carried the generals. Not so very long before that the
field-telephone in the regimental office rang and a voice
came over the wire:</p>
<p>“The big blue machine is on the way down, and
will probably be there in ten minutes.” That was sufficient.
Two or three telephone-calls were hurriedly
made, and the Colonel, accompanied by his staff, proceeded
on “up the line,” met the General’s party, and
the marines were ready.</p>
<p>The result of the inspection is summed up in the
memorandum issued to the command and which says in
part: “Yesterday, at the inspection of the regiment by
General ——, Commander-in-Chief of all the French
forces, General Pershing, Commander-in-Chief of the
American forces in France, and General ——, commanding
the —— Division Chasseurs, who are instructing
our men, General —— congratulated the Colonel
of our regiment on the splendid appearance of officers
and men as well as the cleanliness of the town. General
Pershing personally told the regimental commander that
he wished to congratulate him on having such an excellent
regiment.”</p>
<p>This announcement was read to the marines as they
were lined up for their noonday meal. And where is
the marine whose chest would not swell just a bit at
this tribute paid by General Pershing to those upon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</SPAN></span>
whose shoulders rests the responsibility of maintaining
and perpetuating the glorious history and fine traditions
of the United States Marine Corps?</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<h3>JUDGING BY HIS LETTERS</h3>
<p>“Where’s your uncle, Tommy?”</p>
<p>“In France.”</p>
<p>“What is he doing?”</p>
<p>“I think he has charge of the war.”</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<h3>BLESS THESE AMATEURS</h3>
<div class="poetry-container">
<div class="poetry">
<div class="verse">“What are you knitting, my pretty maid?”</div>
<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">She purled, then dropped a stitch.</span></div>
<div class="verse">“A sock or a sweater, sir,” she said,</div>
<div class="verse"><span style="margin-left: 1em;">“And darned if I know which!”</span></div>
</div></div>
<hr class="tb" />
<h3>NEW GROUNDS FOR EXEMPTION</h3>
<p>The two young girls watched the “nutty young Cuthbert”
pass along the street.</p>
<p>“Did he appeal for exemption?” said May.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Ray, “you might have known he would.”</p>
<p>“On what grounds?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” replied Ray, “unless it was upon the
ground that if he went to the war his wife’s father would
have no son-in-law to support.”<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</SPAN></span></p>
<hr class="tb" />
<h3>SOUSA’S LITTLE JOKE</h3>
<p>Lieut. John Philip Sousa, who is organizing military
bands for the navy, was talking to a correspondent about
the submarine danger.</p>
<p>“A friend of mine, a cornet virtuoso,” he said, “was
submarined in the Mediterranean. The English paper
that reported the affair worded it thus:</p>
<p>“‘The famous cornetist, Mr. Hornblower, though submarined
by the Germans in the Mediterranean, was able
to appear at Marseilles the following evening in four
pieces.’”</p>
<hr class="tb" />
<h3>RAPID MILITARY ADVANCEMENT</h3>
<p>A certain west end tailor, being owed a considerable
amount by a colonel who was received everywhere in
society, made a bargain with the gentleman. He stipulated
that instead of paying his debt, the colonel should
introduce himself and family into high society. To this
the colonel agreed and not long after the tailor received
an invitation to dinner.</p>
<p>When the tailor arrived in the full glory of a perfect
evening dress, the colonel did not recognize him.</p>
<p>“Pardon me, my dear fellow,” he said quietly, as he
shook hands, “I quite forget your name!”</p>
<p>“Quite likely!” sneered the tailor, also sotto voce.
“But I made your breeches!”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes!” said the colonel, smiling. And then, turning
to his wife, said: “Allow me to introduce you, dear—Major
Bridges!”</p>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="adtitle2">FORD SMILES</div>
<div class="center">
<b>160 Pages. </b> <b>Paper Covers.</b> <b>Price 30 cents.</b><br/>
<br/>
<b>BY CARLETON B. CASE.</b></div>
<p>(Spring of 1917.) The very newest, largest and
choicest collection of merry quips about our friend
the Ford car, all good-natured and laughable, with
nothing to offend even Mr. Henry Ford himself.
The author went to Detroit and obtained some of
the new jokes in this book right at the Ford factory.
You can’t help laughing, whether you own
a Ford car or not, at the funny things in “Ford
Smiles.” When you get this book of humor we ask
you to read the short Preface to it; it explains, in
the author’s opinion, why every good Ford joke
is a compliment to that great invention—the Ford
Motor Car. Probably you hadn’t thought of it that
way.</p>
<div class="center">
<big>SHREWESBURY PUBLISHING CO.</big><br/>
5525 South Boulevard Chicago, U. S. A.<br/></div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="adtitle2">ANECDOTES OF THE GREAT<br/>
WAR</div>
<div class="center"><b>Gathered from European Sources</b><br/>
<br/>
<b>160 Pages</b> <b>Paper Covers</b> <b>Price 30 Cents</b><br/>
<br/>
<b>BY CARLETON B. CASE</b></div>
<p>(Just off the press.) The funny things
which the combatants say and do in the
present great conflict in Europe and Asia,
the recruits’ blunders, the stay-at-homes’
excuses, the bulls of the Irish fighters, the
jokes on the officers and on the lads in the
trenches,—these and many other amusing
anecdotes of the war are to be found in
this book in great detail. <i>It is the only
collection of its kind</i>, and is gathered direct
from the press of the European nations engaged
in the war, especially for this work.
Contains nothing to offend any nationality,
but everything to amuse and entertain the
reader.</p>
<div class="center">
<b><big>SHREWESBURY PUBLISHING CO.</big></b><br/>
5525 South Boulevard, CHICAGO<br/></div>
<hr class="full" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="adtitle2"><small>THE SHREWESBURY SERIES OF</small><br/>
Popular Entertainment Books</div>
<p class="center">Edited by <span class="smcap">Carleton B. Case</span></p>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="books">
<tr>
<td align="left">A Batch of Smiles</td>
<td align="left">(humor)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">A Little Nonsense</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Flashes of Irish Wit</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Some Irish Smiles</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Stories from the Trenches</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Anecdotes of the Great War</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">The Sunny Side of Life</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Vaudeville Wit</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Ford Smiles</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Wit and Humor of Abraham Lincoln</td>
<td align="center">“</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">New Book of Conundrums and Riddles</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">How to Write Love-Letters</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Art of Making Love</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Etiquette for Every Occasion</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Gypsy Witch Fortune-Teller</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Telling Fortunes by Cards</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Gypsy Witch Dream Book</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Oriental Dream Book</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Herrmann’s Wizards’ Manual</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Card Tricks</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">The Amateur Trapper</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">How to Box</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Comic Declamations and Readings</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Wartime and Patriotic Selections</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Junior Recitations</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Holiday Recitations</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">District School Recitations</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Children’s Select Recitations and Dialogues</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Comic Dialogues for Boys and Girls</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Jolly Dialogues</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Junior Dialogues</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">High School Dialogues</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Entertaining Dialogues</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Fun for Friday Afternoons (dialogues)</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td align="left">Friday Afternoon Dramas</td>
</tr>
</table></div>
<p><b>The very latest works of their kind. Uniform in
style. Procurable where you bought this book, or will
be sent postpaid by the publishers on receipt of price,
30 cents each.</b></p>
<div class="center">
<b><big>SHREWESBURY PUBLISHING CO.</big></b><br/>
5525 South Boulevard, CHICAGO<br/></div>
<hr class="full" />
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/cover_back.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="389" alt="back of cover" /></div>
<hr class="full" />
<div class="tnote"><div class="center">
<b>Transcriber’s Notes:</b></div>
<p>Spelling in quotations was retained such as “gotton.” This also
includes much varied hyphenation.</p>
<p>Page 44, “bring” changed to “bringing” (bringing down a second)</p>
<p>Page 100, “sasid” changed to “said” (said to a solicitous)</p>
</div>
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