Joke Issue:
Back during the Great War, while most of my pals back home were drinking and carousing, listening to that “jazz” music, I was stuck, cowering in a trench in France. Or was it Belgium? Doesn’t matter — it was some prissy, European country that needed to get bailed out by Uncle Sam. A good day consisted of grilled rat, maybe a quarter of a cigarette and not talking to the stinking British.
Our time on alert quickly turned to boredom, so naturally we’d turn to song. “Hunting the Hun” takes me back so deep, I swear I can still smell day–old vomit when I belt out the tune. From morning until night, the company and I would sing about killing those damned Huns: how we’d “shoot ‘em in the pants” when they advanced, or how we’d “draw ‘em out” with a “bit of hot sauerkraut.”
Even though I never shot one of the pointy–helmet bastards myself, I like to think that song really got them. The line about “capturing ‘em with ease with Limburger cheese” didn’t work out that well, though — got Timmy from Illinois shot right dead on the field. That’s what I call a real war.
— Sgt. Lionel P. Enis
