"PUNCH" IN THE ENEMY'S TRENCHES.
[To the officer whose letter, reproduced in The Daily Telegraph, after reporting the irregular exchange of Christmas gifts between our men and the enemy, goes on to say:—"In order to put a stop to a situation which was proving impossible, I went out myself after a time with a copy of 'Punch,' which I presented to a dingy Saxon in exchange for a small packet of excellent cigars and cigarettes."]
And mutual compliments were paid—
A sausage here, a mince-pie there,
In lieu of bomb and hand-grenade;
And foes forget, that Christmnastide,
Their business was to kill the other side.
"This is not my idea of War;
On milk of human-kindness fed,
Our men will lose their taste for gore;
All this unauthorized good-will
Must be corrected by a bitter pill.
And met a Saxon in the mud
(Not Anglo-) and with fell design
To blast his joyaunce in the bud,
And knock his rising spirits flat,
You handed him a Punch and said, "Take that!"
Little suspecting your intent,
He proffered what he truly deemed
To be a fair equivalent—
A bunch of fags of local brand
And Deutschodoros from the Vaterland.
Let's hope your gift had equal worth,
Though meant to curb his Christmas cheer
And check the interchange of mirth;
I should be very glad to feel
It operated for his inner weal.
Amid the trench's sobering slosh,
What must have left him, by the end,
A wiser, if a sadder, Bosch,
Seeing himself with chastened mien
In that pellucid well of Truth serene.
O. S.
UNWRITTEN LETTERS TO THE KAISER.
No. XIII.
(From Grand Admiral von Tirpitz.)
All Gracious Lord,—It is no pleasant life in these days to be a sailor, especially if one happens to be an Admiral responsible for the organisation and direction of a great Fleet. This morning, for instance, just as I was drinking my early cup of coffee there comes me in my servant bearing a letter: "Will your Excellency have it now?" he says, "or will you wait till you have gathered more strength as the morning goes on?" and with that the old sea-dog smiles a just perceptible smile.
"Is it from ———?" I say, leaving out the name.
"Yes," he answers, "It is from ———. It is the seventh in three days. It will assuredly be some pleasant wish for the New Year. The Lord Great Admiral is, indeed, fortunate in having so high a well-wisher. I myself have no such luck, being only———"
"It is enough," I say, for I knew that he was about to tell me once more that he was only a poor orphan and that his wife's temper being of a bitter complaining nature had driven him from his home many years ago. It is a long story and he spares not the smallest detail in telling it, nay, rather he takes delight in showing how, in spite of his own worthiness, destiny has with express malice singled him out from his fellows to be trodden upon at all those moments when he had a right to look for ease and enjoyment. This morning I was in no humour to listen to it, so I ordered him to lay the letter down and to go about his business. When he had departed I opened the letter, which was a useless proceeding, for I already knew it was from your all-highest Self, and, without reading it, I could have written down its contents word for word. Notwithstanding this, I received the letter and read it with the respect that is due to such a communication, and I now proceed in all humility to answer it.
And first I will tell your Majesty that what you ask I cannot promise to do. You want me to provoke a fleet action under the best conditions so that we may be sure of smashing up the British and securing eternal glory for ourselves. These things are, no doubt, splendid, but they are not done by waving a wand. In securing conditions the enemy also has something to say, especially when he is much stronger than we are, so much so that, wherever we can put one ship, he can put at least two ships of equal power. And sailors have to consider the sea, the wind, the fog and a thousand other things that the landsman cannot understand. To bombard Scarborough and Whitby and to kill women and children may be all very well for once in a way, but even for that once it was not so glorious a feat that your Majesty will wish to inscribe it amongst the battle-honours of our Navy. I may whisper to your Majesty, moreover, that in face of a brave and resourceful foe these showy excursions are not without risk, and it was only by the skin of their teeth that your ships escaped into home waters after they had flung their shells into the two undefended coast-towns.
Next, you want your foreign commerce restored. I cannot do that. It is a misfortune of war that if your enemy has a bigger fleet he can wipe away your foreign trade. If your Majesty did not wish it to be so it would have been better not to go to war. I presume your Majesty couldn't wait, lest the Russians should construct strategic railways and the French provide themselves with boots (which I understand they have now procured in great quantities), but there it is; and after all we might not have been better off for waiting, since these English rascals showed a most bloodthirsty determination always to have a bigger Fleet than ours, no matter what we did. And so our poor commerce must have disappeared in any case.
Finally, as to the Russian Fleet, how, I ask, can we be expected to gain a victory over ships which hide themselves away in the Baltic in so mean a manner, and show no desire for the delight of battle? They have no consciousness of the fact that war-ships were intended for warfare.
Your Majesty is good enough to impute blame to me. Some part of this, I do not doubt, belongs to me. The rest, as is right, I will pass on to poor old Ingenohl and to Prince Henry, and shall ask them to guess whence it originally came.
I am Your Majesty's most humble Von Tirpitz.
