The Wipers Times Page #6

Did you know it's still going on?

The War? Yes, apparently it is.

No, this mutinous magazine.

They promised to stop producing it,

erm, when the war is over.

Just listen to this.

"Realising that men must laugh.

"Some wise man devised the staff."

Is that supposed to be funny?

Well, it's funnier than what

I'm reading.

It's a subversive attack on the

entire high command. It continues...

"Let them lead the simple life far

from all our vulgar strife."

My God, that's us

they're talking about.

"Lest their relatives might grieve

often, often give them leave

"Decorations too, galore

What on earth could man wish more?"

We cannot allow this scurrilous

insubordination to go unpunished.

"And yet, alas, so goes the rumour

"The staff all lack

a sense of humour."

Utter rubbish.

It's not all rude rhymes.

In fact, er, they've put in a rather

helpful glossary of military terms.

Really?

"Duds, there are two kinds -

"a shell on impact failing to

explode is called a dud.

"These are unhappily less

plentiful on the other kind of dud."

Go on. "The kind that draws a large

salary

"and explodes for no reason

far behind the fighting area."

The battlefield is not

a place for humour!

Humour, my dear Howfield,

is what separates

civilisation from incivility.

Us from the Boche.

Whilst Roberts and his men are busy

writing poems poking fun at us

brass hats, the Germans' equivalent

literary contribution is

a hymn of hate.

Have you heard it?

Course I've heard it.

Has all the subtlety of a dawn

barrage from Big Bertha.

What the Germans sing or don't

sing is irrelevant.

We have to maintain

discipline in our army,

or the result is defeatism

and anarchy.

I still say something should be done

about Captain Roberts.

Oh? Something has been done.

He's been awarded

the Military Cross for gallantry.

"Captain FJ Roberts, 12th Sherwood

Foresters,

"24th Division, for conspicuous

gallantry

"and devotion to duty in the battle

of the Somme on August 12th 1916.

"Captain Roberts showed

outstanding leadership under fire

"as Company Commander.

"Throughout he behaved most

gallantly."

If you're waking call me early

call me early, Sergeant, dear

For I'm very, very weary

and my warrants come, I hear

It is Blighty for a spell

my old troubles are all packed

So keep the war a-going, Sar'nt

it's all yours till I'm back.

Maitre d', maitre d'?

Oh, I-I was saying - Pearson.

Pearson's priceless and Harris is

an ace with the inkies.

And you'd be amazed at the sort of

stuff that comes in from the chaps.

The spoofs of Kipling

and Sherlock Holmes and...

the Rubaiyat of Omar whats-it.

And limericks and jokes from all

sorts of unlikely...

Slow down, Fred, I'm not going

anywhere.

But did I tell you about the poet,

Gilbert Frankau contributing?

Now there's someone who's actually

famous, now he's working for us.

You did mention it once or twice.

There's a very promising writer

called Sherriff, who's good at little

dramatic squibs.

Oh, and one of the men has started

carving drawings on wood blocks.

So we're almost up there with the

Illustrated London News.

You make it all sound such fun.

It would be if the infernal

general staff didn't keep

insisting on us

fighting all the time.

Oh, Sommelier? Could we have another

bottle of the '97?

Darling, can we afford all this?

Of course we can't!

Not on a captain's pay.

But as luck would have it,

I ran into a general in the boat home

and I won a hand or two at cards.

I do hope he's better at strategy

than he is at bridge.

Same old Fred.

Well, not quite.

It's the quiet.

It's keeping me awake.

What's it really like?

You know what the basis for this

war is?

Mud.

And sticking through the mud

at various places you can see

pieces of towns.

And out there are the trenches.

One set for our men,

one for the Boche.

With thick wire

fences in front of them.

And time passes slowly.

So, by way of amusement,

one side will try to get in the

other's trench and bring back a man.

And the score is

1-0 for the night.

May seem a bit slow,

taking the enemy one by one,

when there are millions

more out there.

It all helps to pass the time.

Till Christmas,

when the war's going to end.

Is it?

Oh, yes.

We just don't know which Christmas.

We are winning?

I'm not sure anyone knows.

I fought in a battle...

which was an epic of futility.

No-one could even speculate what the

battle was supposed to achieve.

In fact, there was never the

slightest chance of achieving

anything at all.

Apart from the flower of

British manhood...

being hurled to a squalid death.

This isn't like you, Fred.

I'm sorry.

Most of us

have been cured of any illusion

we may have had about the pomp

and glory of war...

and now know it as the vilest

disaster that can befall mankind.

War is nothing more than

wallowing in a dirty ditch.

Are you going back?

Of course.

'If you can live on bully

and a biscuit

'And thank your stars that

you've a tot of rum

'Dodge whizz-bangs with a grin

'And as you risk it, talk

glibly of the pretty way they hum

'If you can crawl through wire

and crump-holes reeking

'With feet of liquid mud

'And keep your head turned always

to the place which you are seeking

'Through dread of crying you will

laugh instead

'If you can grin, at last

when handing over

'And finish well, what you have well

begun

'And think a muddy ditch

a bed of clover

'You will be a soldier one day then

my son.'

Section, halt!

Give us a cigarette, Dodd.

We must be here.

Because this, here, is over there.

Where are we, sir?

If I'm not mistaken,

we're back at Wipers.

You sure, sir?

Pretty sure.

We've come a long way in the last

18 months, haven't we?

I'd say approximately 30 yards.

Find out what the hell monsieur

thinks he's up to, would you, Jack?

Monsieur! Bonjour!

Sergeant? Sir?

Make sure the printer's

come in one piece.

I thought the GS wagon

we put it on looked pretty ropey.

Sir. Thank you.

I don't think you're going to

believe this. Try me.

He's with the Michelin guide.

They're preparing a tourist

handbook for the battlefields.

Oh, so this is...? This is going to

be a holiday destination?

Apparently so.

We should consider ourselves

fortunate

we're among the first to have seen

the sights. Yes.

Did you ask him to recommend any top

class restaurants in the vicinity?

This is beyond parody.

You couldn't make it up.

Right. Come on men. Forward march.

Onwards.

He'll be put out of a job soon.

Should we see if the old editorial

den's still standing?

It'll be like old times.

Yes, very old times. Back

when there were no buildings at all.

Oh, tell me, Sergeant,

how many Es in Wenceslas?

As many of the little

blighters as I can find, sir.

Which, at the moment, is none.

Very well. I always thought the good

king was over encumbered with Es.

We're also short of paper, sir.

We... We've got

a bumper Christmas issue to produce.

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