THE INDIAN, May 13, 1919, Page Six

THE INDIAN, May 13, 1919, Page Six

Page Six

Deck—The cold, hard surface upon which you land from a trip to Dreamland, to the harsh notes of a bugle, and often with the assistance of a rude ser-geant’s No. 10.

Brig—A place of meditation and repentance. Scuttlebutts—H. 2. 0 headquarters; the marine equivalent of the old town pump; first aid dispensary on the morning after.

Sick Bay—The sanctum sanctorum of the medicos; the haven G) f the sick, lame and lazy.

Galley—The company beanery; hash-house; slum-shop; chow-foundry. Mess Hall—The room where the company holds mess-gear drill.

Chow—The mess sergeant’s idea of food.

Slum—The mess sergeant’s favorite dish.

Canned-bill—The canned flesh of an animal closely resembling horse. Monkey-meat—The French variety of canned-bill.

Punk—Army imitation of the staff of life.

Fish-eyes—Tapioca pudding.

Army Strawberries—The juicy prune, canned or dried.

Troop—A full-dress affair, to which all enlisted men are invited. Skipper—The company commander.

Ton—The greatest manhandler at large; the most hard-boiled guy in the company.

Music—The little brat who disturbs our slumbers at daybreak.

First Class Private—A doughboy distinction wished on us temnorarily by the army.

Doz-rohber—An officer’s orderly.

Iliarn-and-Egger—A bird with a soft billet.

0. D.—A shavetail who rates the guard and is try-ing to learn his general orders.

C. T. M.—Chateau-Thierry Marine.

E. P. D.—Unnecessary and degrading labor per-formed by privates—conferred upon the victim by the first sergeant, as a special mark of esteem.

A. W. 0. L.—Gone, but not forgotten.

D. and D.—Unheard condition of a marine.

Before the Mast—On the carnet; up for a shoot.
—Mike, Fifth Marines..

“in any case not covered by instructions, call the corn ral of the Q-uard.” That is what Private Goolsbee, of F Company, Sec-ond Ammunition Train, did recently. And now he wonders why Sergeant Warren. who was the corporal of the guard at the time. wanted to “ride” him for it. All because Private Goolsbee wanted to know the time. This being a case not covered by instructions. Goolsbee sings out: “Corporal of the guard. number five!” Cornoral Warren rushed out, breathless, only to he asked: “What ‘time is it?” This is an excellent method of ascertaining the time when on nost, but it would not be safe to spring it on Sergeant Warren again. —Pvt. Thos. N. Graves, Co. F. 2nd Am. Train.

WAS IT BARON MUNCHAUSEN, JR.? This is a story of misapplied talent that harks back to those nightmarish days of the Meuse-Argonne of-fensive. Following sleepless nights and chowless days on the muddy, shell-shattered roads, the boys of Com-pany F, Second Ammunition Train, were so fortunate as to meet up with their kitchen at Landreville. The caissons were parked in a low, muddy flat near a small stream; the horses were watered, fed and tied up for the night and then the men themselves were permitted to feast upon that good lod standby—slum. The men were told to get what sleep they could. But as there was not a single dry spot on which to make a bunk, and as the hour was well past midnight, numbers of the boys gathered around a fire and passed the cold, dark hours discussing the things usually talked of by similar bunches—rotten weather. execrable roads, bum chow. A First Division chap chanced along, and room was made for him in the circle. He proved to be a talka-tive fellow, and soon had the gathering spellbound by his amazing stories of life in action. Encouraged by the eager interest manifested by his hearers, he grew bolder and bolder, until at last he sprang this: “The first shell hit right at my feet, and after it had exploded I was standing in the shell hole. See-ing the next one coming, I ducked. It burst so close that my blouse and shirt were burned, but T was not hurt.” Further conversation elicited the fact that this bold warrior was a replacement, having joined his outfit only a few weeks previously. This probably accounts for his ignorance of the fact that his apparently credu-lous audience were veterans, most of them having seen service in Mexico, as well as Chateau-Thierry, Soissons, St. Mihiel and Champagne. —Pvt. T. N. Graves, F. Co., 2nd Amm. Train.


Edward P. Ryan has been made a corporal in the Marine Corps. He is now diligently searching for chevron polish.

–* Sgt. Joseph Klump, just returned from the Paris sector, reports that the battle is being won by the veterans of the First and Second Divisions. *— Since “Pat” Ryan was put in charge of the runners, several of them have been noticed attempting to “handshake.” Don’t let them do it, corporal. Stand pat.

–* Pvt. Nick Orak has opened a barber shop on thf, first floor of Arenfels castle. Nick cuts them all in the latest style—regulation. *– Private Long caused considerable excitement one morning when he came rushing into the office and declared that he had been robbed. After searching all morning, he finally found the lost article wrapped inside his puttee. —Cpl. F. L. Renton.

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