The Wipers Times Page #2

Do you sometimes think that the

war will be over,

within the next 12 months?

Absolutely, Doctor.

Do you consider that our leaders

are competent to conduct the war

to a successful issue?

I should say so, Doctor.

Oh, dear. This is the worst case

of cheerfulness I've encountered.

Oh, Good. No. It's terrible.

But don't worry.

I promise I can cure

you of optimism within two days

and effectively eradicate all

traces of it from your system.

Really, Doctor?

And how are you going to do that?

I'm writing something for you now,

which should do the trick.

Is it a prescription, Doctor?

No. It's your orders.

I'm sending you to the front line.

Thank you, Doctor.

Not sure about this

piece about optimism.

Are you questioning

the judgment of a superior officer?

Er, yes. Good.

So as a superior officer, of course,

I shall ignore you.

Seriously, do you not think it's

gone a little bit too far?

How can you accuse me of going too

far - when the entire

24th Division has gone precisely ten

yards in the last six months?

And that was sideways. I'm just

saying we have to be careful.

Yes, I guess you are right.

We must be responsible.

As will be made

clear in my editorial.

You haven't written an editorial.

How's your shorthand? Non-existent.

Good. Take this down.

Mm-hm? Editorial.

Hmm, excellent.

Having managed to pick up a printing

press, slightly soiled,

at a very reasonable price,

we have decided to produce a paper.

There is much

we would like to say in it,

but the shadows of censorship

enveloping us,

cause us to refer to the war that we

hear is taking place in Europe...

Careful.

..in a cautious manner.

We apologise for any shortcomings

in production of our paper...

on account of...

Editorial inexperience?

Quite so.

We hope to publish The Times weekly,

despite the attentions of Messrs Hun

and co.

Our local rivals. Excellent!

And we take this opportunity

of stating that we accept

no responsibility for the views

expressed. We?

Yes. And we disassociate

ourselves from any

statements in the advertisements.

Well, that bit's true.

There are no advertisements.

No? Why Not?

There's a problem with potential

advertisers such as theatres,

restaurants, hotels,

small businesses et cetera...

Well, what's the problem?

There aren't any.

They've all been blown to buggery.

Is that anywhere near Poperinghe?

No, it's not. And you didn't hear

that, Sergeant, did you?

No, sir, but it was most amusing.

Harris, you're our expert.

We can't be a proper newspaper

without advertisements, can we?

No, sir,

that's what the front page is for.

So what do we do?

Taxi! Taxi! I say, Taxi!

'Are you having trouble getting

home?

'Not any more, with our fleet

of handsomely-appointed taxicabs.'

But how will I recognise your taxis?

'Easy, they have a red cross

painted on each side.'

'Is your friend a soldier?

'Do you know what he wants?

No? We do.

'Send him one of our latest improved

combination umbrella

'and wire cutter.

'No more nasty colds caught

when cutting the wire.

'He will be absolutely delighted with

the combination umbrella

'and wire cutter.

'Just 15 francs.

'Quite right, Miss.

'Now you can rest assured

your soldier friend will stay fit

'and healthy out in no man's land.'

'Calling all harassed subalterns.'

Who? Me?

'Yes, you. Is your life miserable?

'Do you hate your company commander?'

Uh.

'Of course you do.

'Then why not buy him one of our

patent "tip me up" duckboards?'

But how does the "tip me

up" duckboard work?

'You just get your company commander

on the end...

'and the duckboard does the rest.

'Every time a blighty!

'That's our promise. Remember...

'if once he steps onto the end,

'to take a month his face to mend.'

Thank you, "tip me up" duckboard.

Excellent work, Sergeant.

When can we roll the pressers?

Soon as it eases off a bit, sir.

Surely you're not

bothered by a spot of rain?

No. It's more the bombardment, sir.

Fritz is getting a bit too close

to the print room to be pleasant.

Well, when Herman knocks off for his

evening sausage let's print

the blighter.

Everything all right? I'm fine,

Sar'nt.

Not you, the print blocks.

Get in there.

Don't get your hand

caught in the plate, Dodd.

Or you'll come a cropper.

A phrase, incidentally,

derived from the printing presses of

HS Cropper.

Do you know that?

That's very interesting, Sar'nt.

As is the phrase "mind your Ps and

Qs".

It comes from a common mistaking of

the P for the Q in a tray of type.

That's even more interesting,

Sar'nt.

Whereas, the expression "get the

wrong end of the stick",

that comes from grabbing the wrong

end of the compositing stick

and getting your hand

covered in ink.

It means thinking you're being

interesting when really... Yes,

Henderson?

Very, very interesting indeed,

Sar'nt.

Correct.

Right, here we go. Grab it, Smith.

There it is, Sar'nt.

Now, the result, if I say it myself,

is a thing of beauty.

Unlike any of you lot.

Oi, Bill, this Wipers Times does what

it says!

Have you seen this poppycock, sir?

Yes, I have.

It's downright insubordination.

That's maybe why the men

seem to like it.

The men also like the ladies of the

Poperinghe Fancies.

Neither are exactly conducive to

winning the war.

Really? Have you seen the ladies

of the Poperinghe Fancies?

Of course not!

I think they're doing their bit.

Jolly, buxom girls.

They can't sing,

they can't dance, but...

no-one seems to care, particularly.

I believe the chaps call them

glycerine and Vaseline.

No idea why. We're getting off the

point here, sir.

Which is surely that some

of the material in this publication

is not merely unsuitable,

it's downright treasonable.

Like what, in particular?

Like this.

Oh. Answers to correspondence.

Whoever wrote this should be

court-martialed.

Like this item advising young

officers not to wear turned-up

slacks or shoes

when going over the top?

What? Lovely, sound advice.

A chap wearing turned-up

slacks on the battlefield not only

looks a bloody fool,

but he advertises the fact he's

an officer to any half-awake sniper.

No, no, no. That is

not the offending article.

I'm referring to this response

to a supposed query from a

junior officer.

"Dear Subaltern.

"No.

"The death penalty is not enforced

"in the case of murdering a senior

officer,

"as you will always be able to claim

extenuating circumstances."

That's a joke.

It's an incitement to mutiny,

I'll have him shot.

Not if he shoots you first.

That's also a joke.

The war is not funny, sir.

I think the authors

are aware of that.

I have a feeling that may be the

point.

I mean...

It's not all cocking a snook

at the general staff, although...

quite a bit of it is.

I mean, some bits are deadly

serious - words from the heart.

Such as?

"People we take our hats

off to - The French at Verdun,

"the British Navy at Jutland,

"and the Canadians at Ypres."

Saluting our fallen comrades is

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