Stories from the Trenches: Humorous and Lively Doings of Our 'Boys Over There'

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Case Carleton Britton. Stories from the Trenches: Humorous and Lively Doings of Our 'Boys Over There'

THE MAN WHO “CAME BACK”

FRANCO-YANKO ROMANCES

TRENCH SUPERSTITIONS

IN THE TRAIL OF THE HUN

WHEN “ACE” LUFBERY BAGGED NO. 13

LIFE AT THE FRONT

THE “FIDDLER’S TRUCE” AT ARRAS

HARRY LAUDER DOES HIS BIT

KING GEORGE UNDER FIRE

STORY OF OUR FIRST SHOT

STORIES FROM THE FRONT

UNCLE SAM, DETECTIVE

DIDN’T RAISE HIS BOY TO BE A “SLACKER”

THE 100-POUND TERROR OF THE AIR

THE WATCH-DOGS OF THE TRENCHES

GENERAL BELL REDEEMS HIS PROMISE

LETTERS FROM THE FRONT

MEET TOMMY, D. C. MEDAL MAN

GERMAN FALCON KILLED IN AIR-DUEL

HE TAUGHT THE “TANK” TO PROWL AND SLAY

TAKING MOVING PICTURES UNDER SHELL-FIRE

WEIGHTY MEASURES INVOLVING UNCLE SAM’S NAVY

ENLISTED MEN TELL WHY THEY JOINED THE ARMY

TOMMY ATKINS, RAIN-SOAKED AND WAR-WORN STILL GRINS

SOMETHING NEW FOR THE MARINES

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THE story is told of a British “Tommy” who could not make up his mind whether to acquire a farm or a village store, by marriage, “somewhere in France.” He could have either, but not both. Dispatches say that the banns have already been read for some of our “Sammies,” and when the war is over France will have some sturdy Yankee citizens. Difference of language seems to form no bar; in fact, the kindly efforts of each to learn the language of the other acts as an aid. It must be said that the British, so far, have rather the best of it. They have beaten the Yankees to the altar of Hymen, but they had the field to themselves for some time. By the end of the war the Americans may have caught up, for love and war have always walked hand in hand with Uncle Sam’s boys. Nevertheless the British have a big start, for Judson C. Welliver, writing to the New York Sun from Paris, says that in Calais hundreds of young English mechanics have married French girls. The writer tells of being accosted by a young man from “the States” at the corner of the Avenue de l’Opéra and “one of those funny little crooked streets that run into it.” Breezily the American introduced himself and said:

“Say, do you happen to know a little caffy right around here called the – the – blame it, I can’t even remember what that sign looked like it was trying to spell.”

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All decent and in order. Otherwise the men could never have gone through the strenuous coaching for the front so quickly and well.

In “Our Village,” not a duck or goose or chicken has failed to respond to the roll call in the past forty days – which is more than can be said of a French company billet, or many a British.

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