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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:06:38 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:06:38 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36832-0.txt b/36832-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..156616a --- /dev/null +++ b/36832-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2760 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Conscript 2989, by Irving Crump + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Conscript 2989 + Experiences of a Drafted Man + +Author: Irving Crump + +Illustrator: H. B. Martin + +Release Date: July 24, 2011 [EBook #36832] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSCRIPT 2989 *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: I summoned “Local Board 163” in Court Martial +proceedings] + +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - + + CONSCRIPT 2989 + + EXPERIENCES OF A DRAFTED MAN + + ILLUSTRATED BY + H. B. MARTIN + + NEW YORK + DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY + 1918 + +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - + + COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY + DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. + + Service Flag Design on Cover Patented November 6, 1917 + + Reproduced by Permission of Annin & Co., Flag Makers, New York + +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - + + TO + MY MOTHER AND FATHER + + and every other Mother and Father, who spend hours wondering about + the welfare of their son, this book is dedicated. And with it comes + the assurance that life in the big cantonment contains a full + measure of real happiness, and that all hardships are mitigated by a + sense of humor which develops even in the worst of pessimists. We + are contented, for to compensate for the absence of you and all that + you mean, comes the knowledge that we are doing everything that + brave men and women, the world over, would have us do at times like + these. We are doing a man’s work and by the token of the service + flag in your window you should know that the days of patched + trousers, darned stocking, of toy fire engines, play soldiers, and + noisy drums, were not spent in vain. + +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - + + + + +CONSCRIPT 2989 + + + + +Thursday: + + +Once when I was an enthusiastic freshman (it seems ages ago) I joined a +Latin society that had for its inspiration the phrase, _forsan haec olim +meminisse juvabit_. + +All I can remember about the society is the motto, and there is nothing +particularly pleasant about the recollection, either. But somehow +to-night that fool phrase comes back to me and makes a pessimist of me +right off. I wonder how pleasant these things are going to be and +whether I will want to remember them hereafter. Perhaps I won’t have +much choice. I’ll probably remember them whether I want to or not. +Already my first eight hours of active service as Conscript 2989 have +some sharp edges sticking out which I am likely to remember, though many +of them are far from pleasant. + +I am now truly a member of the army of the great unwashed and +unwashable—no, I take that back. They are washable. I saw a grizzly old +Sergeant herding four of them out to the washroom this evening. Each of +them carried a formidable square of yellow soap and a most unhappy +expression. But the Sergeant looked pleased with his detail. + +Never in my wildest flights of fancy can I picture some of these men as +soldiers. Slavs, Poles, Italians, Greeks, a sprinkling of Chinese and +Japs—Jews with expressionless faces, and what not, are all about me. I’m +in a barracks with 270 of them, and so far I’ve found a half dozen men +who could speak English without an accent. Is it possible to make +soldiers of these fellows? Well, if muscle and bone (principally bone) +is what is wanted for material, they have got it here with a vengeance. +But, then, from the looks of things they have been doing wonders and +they may make creditable soldiers of them at that. Goodness knows, they +may even make a soldier out of me, which would be a miracle. Here’s +hoping. + + + + +Friday: + + +I only need to glance back over the page I wrote last night to see how I +felt. This conscripting must have gotten under my skin a little deeper +than I thought. I’ll admit I was homesick, and I guess it made me a +little testy. I think I really should tear that page out and begin over. +It isn’t exactly fair, and, besides, it doesn’t fulfil the function of a +diary, anyway, which, I take it, is a record of events and things—not a +criticism of everybody in general and an opportunity to give vent to +disagreeable feelings. + +[Illustration: Never in my wildest flights of fancy can I picture some +of these men as soldiers] + +From a “close-up” view yesterday may have seemed like a trying day, but +to-night it looks a lot different and a lot more interesting. I must +confess that all the “good-byes,” and the bands, and the weeping mothers +and sweethearts, and the handshakes, and the pompous old turtles (who +dodged the draft in the Civil War or bought substitutes) who slapped you +on the back and told you how they wished they were young again, along +with the arrival of the “Kaiser Kanners,” who unquestionably were +“kanners” of another variety, and the parade and the Home Guard and the +dozen and one “Comfort Kits” that every one handed you, and the mystery +of what was to come, and the scared look on every one’s face, including +my own, and the vacant feeling in the pit of one’s stomach, superinduced +by sandwiches and coffee, fudge, oranges and chocolates in lieu of a +real meal, did get on my nerves. + +[Illustration: Every one of them had a fiendish grin on his face] + +But, hang it, when I look back we got a great farewell, at that. And the +local Board did things up mighty well. I find myself possessed of a +razor, razor strop, wrist watch, two pocket knives, unbreakable mirror, +drinking cup and a lot of other things that I never expected to own or +need. I haven’t the remotest idea where many of them came from. + +Then there was that long, almost never ending train ride, which seemed +to be taking me on an unbearable distance from the place I really felt I +belonged. + +And the arrival; all I saw when I tumbled off the train were thousands +of unpainted buildings and millions of fellows in khaki, and every one +of them had a fiendish grin on his face as he shouted: “Oh, you rookey. +Wait, just wait; you’ll get yours! When they bring on the needle. Oh, +the needle.” + +I had a vague idea of what the “needle” might be, but it wasn’t pleasant +to hear about it from every one I met. But I guess there were a lot of +fellows who were not quite certain what this threatening “needle” was. +Foolishly two of them asked one of the Sergeants who met us at the train +and what they heard in reply to their queries made them paler than they +were before, if that were possible. Thereafter, for the rest of the +afternoon and evening, the “needle” was the subject of earnest +conversation among us all, and the doubts and misgivings about that +instrument of torture, coupled with a thoroughly good case of +homesickness on the part of every one of us helped to make a pleasant +(?) evening. And that most of us worried until far into the night is +certain. I know I did, and the Italian on my left cried himself to +sleep, and didn’t try to hide his unhappiness either. Oh, it was a +delightful evening, all things considered. + +Forty-seven of us, all from my own district, came down together, and +while we remained in one group there was a measure of consolation to be +had for us all. But our hopes that we would stay together at camp were +dashed immediately we got off the train. In fact we were so thoroughly +split up that I managed to get into a squad composed entirely of +foreigners, and I’m still with them. But the prospects of a change are +excellent. + +Quite as docile as sheep, and just as ignorant, we were marched down one +camp street after another. My friends of foreign extraction, with due +regard for anything that looked like a uniform, saluted every one that +passed, and they were tolerably busy until we were halted outside of our +present abode, a big two-story, unpainted barracks building. + +Here mess kits were served to each of us, and though we did not know the +combination that unlocked the mysterious looking things, we were glad to +get them, because they added so much to the dozen and one things we were +already carrying. Then, completely smothering us, came two tremendous +horse blankets and a comforter. Those comforters were everything their +name implies. Not only did they afford warmth, but amusement as well. +They ranged in shades from baby blue and pink to cerise and lavender, +and some one with a sense of humour must have distributed them. The +stout, pudgy, black-haired Italian to my left reposes under the +voluminous folds of a beautiful pink creation, and across the room sits +a huge Irishman, with hands as big as hams and shoulders of a giant, +with a baby blue comforter wrapped about him. Mine is a bewitching old +rose. But, believe me, it’s there with the quality if it isn’t much on +looks. I found that out last night. + +Then, after the Sergeant showed us where we bunked and where we could +expect to find something to eat about supper time, every one left us +severely alone, which was mostly what we wanted, because we all had a +lot on our mind between homesickness and that blessed “needle.” But +there was some work to do, such as stuffing mattresses with hay, +sweeping out the barracks and similar occupations until bed time. + +[Illustration: A baby blue comforter wrapped about him.] + +Some one, who had evidently heard some weird tales about the punishment +meted out to those who overslept at camp, brought an alarm clock along +with him, and the blooming thing went off at 4 A.M. Of course we got up, +switched the lights on over head, and proceeded to get dressed with that +resigned now-what-are-you-going-to-do-with-us air. + +But dressing was interrupted by a string of the most beautiful cusses I +ever heard, coming downstairs just in advance of a mighty mad looking +Sergeant: + +“Who in —— tarnation bow-wows has got that —— alarm clock? Pitch it out +the —— window, and git back to bed.” + +It went and we went. But that’s as far as we could go. Thoughts of the +“needle” and other forms of torture which we were to face in a few short +hours kept most of us awake until a quarter after five, when every +officer in camp began to blow letter-carrier whistles. Then we all got +up and were introduced to some physical exercises guaranteed to stretch +every muscle in our makeup. I took a cold shower bath after mine, and +was the object of interest of the entire barracks. Great stuff (I mean +the shower). + +Most of us might have been tolerably happy after that, if it hadn’t been +for the fact that every man in uniform made some evil suggestion about +the “needle.” And when they saw us all, white and corpsey looking and +more or less unsteady on our legs, line up in front of the barracks and +march off under our Second Lieutenant, the groans and sorry faces they +feigned were enough to make one’s blood run cold. And then we got the +“needle.” + +[Illustration: An alarm clock went off at 4 A.M.] + +I, for one, was disappointed, and so were most of the rest of us. But +there were a few who didn’t give themselves a chance to be disappointed. +They promptly fainted: not because of the injection but because of the +state of their nerves which they all admitted afterward. There were a +few things about the examination calculated to scare a man to death such +as the question: “In case you are shot and killed to whom do you wish +six months’ pay to be sent?” Many of us stammered a bit before +answering. + +[Illustration: Jabbed at the iodine mark and pulled the trigger] + +After that we stripped, lined up and started on our way. Then measured, +marked and finger-printed, we arrived before a physician who stamped a +quarter section under the left shoulder blade with a sponge covered with +iodine, while another one scratched the skin on our upper arm to mark +the acreage to be covered by a vaccination. We moved on to two more +physicians, and while one dug a hunk out of our arm and inserted vaccine +in place of the skin removed, the other man, with a villainously long +hypodermic, jabbed at the iodine mark and pulled the trigger. And now, +by George, if any one else around here tries to kid me into worrying +about anything at all, I’m going to talk back proper. They sure had me +scared stiff and I’ll admit it. Why, hang it, I would rather have had +typhoid than face that “needle” before I really knew what it amounted +to. But here I am, with germs variously estimated at from 15,000 to +250,000 circulating around inside of me, due to said “needle,” and aside +from a little wooziness in the head, and a sore shoulder, I’m quite +contented and ready to turn in. Good-night. + + + + +Saturday: + + +The serum injections of yesterday produced some queer, and in one case +unfortunate, results. Last night after taps were sounded and lights were +out, I lay awake a long time in spite of the fact I was very tired. + +Couldn’t understand it, and my arm and back were as sore as could be. +Hour after hour wore on, and I couldn’t get to sleep. Some did, however, +and I had a regular frog’s chorus of snores to keep me company. I became +a veritable specialist in snores and wheezes and grunts. Every time I +heard a new variety I formed mental pictures of the men who probably +made them. + +Then the chorus was interrupted by some one not far from me who called +out mournfully: “Oh, my back, my back! The needle!” Then in sharper +tones: “Count off. 1-2-3-4.” I wondered what horrors his overwrought +nerves were causing him to dream of. + +But when I did get to sleep I slept soundly, certainly, for they told me +this morning that one chap had become seriously ill, and had been +carried from the barracks to an ambulance and whisked away to the +hospital sometime during the small hours of the morning. It seems that +he had an excess of germs circulating around inside of him, due to the +fact that he did not know enough to move on after the doctor had given +him the first injection, and the physician, looking only for the nearest +iodine spot, shot him twice in the same place. + +However, I am reasonably certain I’ll sleep to-night all right, for I’ve +been pulling stumps all day, or rather during the time I wasn’t learning +to recognize my right foot from my left, and a few other things that +every man thinks he knows until some one takes the pains to expose his +ignorance. Oh, I have the qualities of a really capable soldier in me—if +some one can find them. As an infantryman I’m a much better stump +puller. I proved that this afternoon. I have a beautiful double handful +of blisters, not to mention a ruined suit of clothes and hopeless shoes, +to my credit in this war of exterminating the Hun. I hope we get +uniforms soon, because if we don’t, I’ll be going about clad in my old +rose comforter and some summer underclothes. + +Stump pulling is rough on clothes, but it certainly is an appetite +builder. I’ve discovered already that it is good policy to be among the +first on line with a mess kit, then if you can bolt your beef a-la-mode +fast enough, and get outside and wash up your kit, you stand a good +chance of joining the last of the line, thereby getting a second +helping. Indeed, several fellows have it down to such a science already, +that they get three helpings before the cook begins to say things. + +The barracks is beginning to look picturesque. The atmosphere of a +western mining camp, arranged for stage purposes, prevails. The +Italians, swarthy-faced, heavy-featured fellows, for the most part, +gather in little groups, smoke villainous pipes and play cards +incessantly, whenever they are allowed much time in the barracks. Our +Semitic friends linger in the vicinity of the door that leads to the +mess hall and kitchen, especially about meal time. And their mess kits +are always handy. Nicknames have already become common, and we have +among us such worthies as Fat, Doc, Peck’s Bad Boy, Toney, Binkie, +Shortie, Shrimp, Simp and Pop. The last name has been applied to me, +inspired, no doubt, by the suggestion of baldness aloft. + +[Illustration: Italians gather in little groups] + + + + +Sunday: + + +Didn’t sleep much last night, for some reason. Think I was too tired. +This is the third night I’ve lost time. Beginning to feel it now. But no +one else seemed to sleep well either, or at least they didn’t go to +sleep right off. Lights out at ten and all supposed to be “tucked in.” +Then came various remarks from the darkness; choice, unprintable remarks +about the Kaiser, the Government, the Sergeant, certain Corporals, who +doubtless heard all their well-wishers had to say, but could not +identify the speakers. Indeed, it struck me that the fellows had hit +upon a choice way of telling certain non-coms what they thought of them, +without the possibility of getting in bad. Then arguments started in the +darkness, and the vocal combatants were urged on by catcalls and +encouraging yells from various sections of the unlighted room, and +presently shoes started flying. + +About that time the Top Sergeant upstairs woke up, and decided to +investigate. Silence fell in the big room when the stairs, creaking +under his weight, gave warning that the crusty old veteran of fifteen +years’ service with the Regulars was on his way down. + +[Illustration: The Top Sergeant made the round of the cots] + +The door opened and a pocket flashlight began to travel from cot to cot. +But strangely enough every one was slumbering contentedly, and some even +snoring. The Top Sergeant made the round of the cots, reached the door +and “doused his glim.” + +Then with a most impressive introduction of profanity he remarked that +“The next ——, ——, son-of-a-bandmaster, who started anything would spend +the rest of the night out on the porch in his underclothes,” whereupon +some wag from the darkness replied: “Put t’ Kaiser out there, he started +it.” While others sweetly remarked: “Good-night Ser_geant_.” “Pleasant +dreams, dear.” “Come kiss me good-night.” and “Don’t forget to tuck us +all in.” + +But things eventually subsided and I dozed off, only to be awakened +later by some one kissing me on the cheek. It was startling to say the +least, and I sat up. I thought perhaps the Sergeant had come back to say +good-night. Then it happened again, only this time on my hand, and I +heard an eager little whine, and a sniff-sniff-sniffing that told me +plainly a dog was beside my cot. + +I chirped encouragingly and up he came. Then he dived between the +blankets and burrowing deep worked his way down to the foot of my cot. +Evidently he had slept in army cots before. All my efforts to dislodge +him were futile and I knew that unless I got up and unmade my bed he +would not come out. So I left him, and he in gratitude kept my feet +warm. + +This morning he appeared at reveille, waking me up with his frantic +efforts to dig himself to light again and kissing me good-morning, by +way of showing his appreciation. He was just a plain yellow dog, with a +lop ear and a habit of wagging all over when he could not get enough +expression in his stump of a tail. Attached to a strap that he wore in +place of a collar was a tag on which was scrawled: “Presented to Local +Board No. 163—Hold the fort for we are coming.” I concluded that if they +held onto the fort, when they arrived, as well as they held onto their +dog it wasn’t worth while having them come at all. + +“Local Board No. 163” stood guard on the foot of my bed, or rather, sat +guard, until I got dressed, and although he created no end of interest +among the rest of the fellows in the room, who whistled and called to +him, he refused to leave his new-found “bunkie.” He just sat tight. He +even stayed when I got up to go, but he looked at me with a most +reproachful air, as if to say, “I think a lot of you even though you do +want to leave me.” + +He remained after every one had left the room and when I returned an +hour later to get my mess kit for breakfast, he was still there. + +But the rattle of mess tins must have suggested something to him for +when I got up to go this time he was right beside me, and he even braved +the crush at the mess-hall door to stick near me. + +That dog never had so much to eat in all his young life as he got for +breakfast that morning. First he visited our Japanese cook, who liked +him and proved it by giving him a piece of meat. Then he visited the +kitchen police, who found something for him, after which he made the +rounds of the mess tables, coming back to me actually bloated with food. +He looked up at me and I’ll swear he grinned and tried to say: “This is +the life—eh, Ol’ Top?” + +“Local Board No. 163” has already become a favourite, but with all his +petting from his many well-wishers, he seems to want to call me Boss. +He’s on the cot beside me now as I write, snoring with disgusting +impoliteness, but I guess, being just a plain yellow dog, he don’t know +any better. + +This has been a day of visitors, and little work. Early this morning +they began to arrive. I never saw so many motor cars anywhere, except at +football games, or the races. And girls; thousands of them, and pretty, +too. But shucks, I’m outclassed. In fact I began to feel like my dog +to-day. I’ll admit it was pretty soft for the fellows who had uniforms, +but for the poor tramps like myself, who still wear their civilian +clothes (or what is left of them, which isn’t very much all told) it was +sort of a lonesome day. + +[Illustration: Pretty soft for the fellows who had uniforms] + +Then there were the lucky fellows who had passes to leave camp. They +looked fine, tramping down the road toward the station. Of course they +were all uniformed; they are not allowed to leave camp unless they are. + +But “Local Board No. 163” and I take consolation in the fact that +perhaps next Sunday we will be all spick and span in a nice new uniform, +and then we’ll strike for a pass, too, and go home and swagger about a +bit ourselves. + +Feeling delightfully tired and sleepy; and I know I’ll “press some of +the creases out o’ my blankets” to-night. This place seems almost +comfortable and homelike now, and the men—well I’ve changed my original +opinion of them considerably. They all (or most of them) have their +hearts in the right place, and there aren’t so many muckers as I thought +there might be. In fact I’m beginning to like things mighty well; really +enjoying myself. Only, hang it, I think I’m getting a good case of +hives. Haven’t been afflicted thus for about five years. If they keep up +I’ll report to the hospital shortly. “Come on ‘Local Board No. 163’ +we’ll turn in.” + + + + +Monday: + + +Several things of importance happened to-day. For one thing we got some +clothes. I say _some_ clothes advisedly, for I’m not all clothed yet, +being minus such important articles as an undershirt, socks and shoes. +But those I brought from home, though sanctified and made holey by +arduous labours in other fields, will do for the present. I possess a +pair of winter breeches and a summer coat, but what matters that. It is +sufficient to know that they fit, which is not the case in several +instances, notably in that of friends Fat and Shrimp, who, I have +learned, were not optimistic from the first about being fitted properly. +It seems that from years of experience they have both learned never to +expect to be fitted anywhere, anyhow. Fat’s shirt covers him with an +effort, but that is all. He can’t find a shoehorn with which to get into +his breeches. As for Shrimp: his belt is pulled tight about his chest +and the sleeves of his tunic are rolled up to where his elbows should +be, only to disclose the tips of his fingers. + +But I must confess to a grave error right here. It startled me this +evening at retreat. Indeed, several things startled me this evening at +retreat, including my fast developing case of hives. + +[Illustration: His belt is pulled tight about his chest] + +A few days ago I made some rather boorish and very sarcastic remarks +about the possibilities of ever making soldiers out of the men I found +myself among. I humbly take it all back and eat mud by way of apology. +Khaki, a campaign hat and a shave, together with a certain amount of +training in how to stand up straight and step off correctly, have made a +vast difference. Why, hang it, I’m mighty proud to belong to this +company. Jews, Italians, Poles, etc., all look like fighters; act like +fighters; and a lot of them are fighters, too. Why they are soldiers +already, and glad of it. Which leads me to state quite modestly the +surprising fact that I think I am nearly a soldier, too, and gol-dinged +set up about it. Honestly we looked fine this evening. What if there +were a few misfits? A process of barter and exchange has already +eliminated a great deal of that (save in the cases of Fat and Shrimp, +who have gone back to civilian clothes until special uniforms are built +for them) and when we lined up and snapped to attention while the band +over on Tower Hill played “The Star Spangled Banner” and the old flag +came slowly down, we looked like real soldiers every inch. We knew it, +too, and I’ll bet there wasn’t a prouder company in the entire camp. + +[Illustration: Back to civilian clothes until a special uniform is +built] + +Of course, I had to gum up the ceremony. But I guess I’ll pay for it +to-morrow. Here’s how it happened: + +We’ve been drilling, drilling, drilling, all day to-day, drilling with a +vengeance, and now we can do squads right and right front into line with +as much pep and vigour as a company of Regulars. Our Sergeant said so, +which is some admission for the old moss-back to make. Of course, we +were tired. I was about ready to drop in my tracks when five o’clock +came, which is time for evening parade or retreat; a very impressive +ceremony by the way. My hives had been bothering me all day, and every +time we were at ease, I got in some likely scratches in itchy places. + +One beautiful lump developed right under my arm just at five o’clock. +Holy smokes, how it did itch! It was just as if something had staked an +oil claim right there and wasn’t losing any time about drilling a well. +Of course, standing at attention a chap can’t scratch, at least he’s not +supposed to—but I did. I tried to show extreme fortitude. I stood and +stood and stood, and the darned thing kept boring and boring and boring. +Then when the Lieutenants had their backs turned and stood at salute +while the flag came down, I took a chance and scratched. + +That First Lieutenant of ours either has eyes in the back of his head or +else the Sergeant is a tattletale. Anyhow, after the ceremonies and +before we were dismissed, I was commanded to step out, whereupon I was +given a most beautiful call down, after which I said, “thank you, sir” +to a detail as kitchen police, for the next week to come starting +to-morrow. + +When I got back here to my barracks the first thing I did was to peel +off my shirt and look for that hive. I caught him. And then the whole +terrible plot to get me detailed as kitchen policeman was revealed. +“Local Board No. 163” has fleas; or, rather, he had ’em. I’ve got ’em +now—no, wrong again. I got rid of them, or I hope I did. + +[Illustration: I picked him up in one hand and a cake of yellow soap in +the other.] + +Upon making the hideous discovery, I summoned “Local Board No. 163” in +court martial proceedings. He was guilty; I could see it by the way his +spirit sagged in the middle when I began to cross-question him. I picked +him up in one hand and a cake of yellow soap and a towel in the other, +and we proceeded toward the shower baths. Bur-r-r-r but that water was +cold. “Local Board No. 163” didn’t enjoy it either, but I could with +justice assure him that this form of punishment hurt me as much as it +did him, and what is more I am likely to suffer a heap worse to-morrow. + +“Local Board No. 163,” you sleep _under_ the bed to-night. + + + + +Tuesday: + + +Too blasted tired to write to-night. I did a whole winter’s work this +morning. Shovelled nine tons (almost) of coal into the coal bin, as a +starter. Then peeled a sack of potatoes, scrubbed an acre of floor and a +half-acre of table tops and benches, washed twenty ash cans, and other +kitchen utensils and—oh, I’m too tired now, think I’ll wait until +to-morrow. + +“Local Board No. 163” sleeps _out on the porch_ to-night. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +Still kitchen policing. Yesterday I thought I had pulled some job when I +peeled an ash can full of potatoes, but that was nothing. To-day I got a +better one. I had to peel the same amount of potatoes, only they were in +a washboiler this time. Yes, right off the fire. I can’t see why the +Government has to serve potatoes with the jackets off anyway. Why don’t +they let the men peel them? They are just as well able to do it as we +are. If some one ever wants to invent a choice way of punishing +refractory prisoners in jail I suggest they send said refractors into +the kitchen and give them the gentle job of peeling hot potatoes, by the +washboilerful. + +I have a side partner on the kitchen police. His name is O’Flynn and he +runs into even better luck than I do. To-day he shared the job of +peeling “hot ones” with me. Yesterday while I had the little task of +peeling ’em raw, he was handed the nice detail of attending to twelve +pounds of onions; a tearful occasion, until some one with a conscience +suggested that he get a bucket of water and peel them under water. +O’Flynn got the water, with the remark that if he waited just a little +longer the onion pan would have been full of tears, which he assumed +would have served just as well. + +O’Flynn is kitchen policing because he tried to come into the barracks +after taps. Lights out at ten and O’Flynn arrived about 2 G.M. He +avoided the fire-guard successfully and went around to the back of the +barracks. There he jimmied a window with his pocket knife and got it +opened, only to have it fall on his neck when he was about half-way in. +By way of exercise he put his elbow through it. Then to add to the +situation he found himself in the darkened mess hall instead of the +dormitory, and the noise he made when he knocked over several benches +naturally grated on the Sergeant’s nerves. Said Sergeant arrived in the +hall in his union suit about the time O’Flynn had untangled himself, +and, after cussing him out to perfection, he handed the Irishman a week +at kitchen policing. + +“And now,” said O’Flynn, “t’ next time I come in through t’ windey, I’ll +stay out.” + +A week of this and I’ll be able to qualify as a first rate housekeeper +for a lumber camp. Already I can lay down a few very necessary rules +which the average housewife will appreciate, as for instance:— + +1. Never take it for granted that a man has only one appetite. We have +two hundred and seventy men here, but they carry around an aggregate of +six hundred appetites. + +2. Never plunge your hands into an ash can full of greasy water without +first removing your wrist watch. + +3. Never attempt to mop up after your men folk. Just turn the hose on, +lash the nozzle to a convenient table leg and walk away and forget about +it. + +4. In carrying out a pan full of hot ashes never grab the handle. Thrust +a stick through it, it saves the temper and the floor. + +5. Never let any one kid you into trying to take the black off the +kitchen pans with sapolio, rather throw the pans away. + +[Illustration: Never let anyone kid you into trying to take the black +off the kitchen pans] + +Delightfully brief and entertaining job, that of removing the black from +ash cans that are used to cook soup in. Our Mess Sergeant, the pirate, +noticed that for about three seconds during this afternoon I wasn’t +doing anything in particular, so he gave me a cake of sapolio and a mop +and told me to get busy and shine up the outside of the pots and pans +and get all the black off. I went to it and stuck—until our Jap cook, +the slant-eyed angel, came in about two hours later and told me the +honourable ash cans always got blacked up again so what’s the use; and +anyhow he wanted to use the mop. I almost kissed him. + +Thank goodness the coal shovelling is all over with. Finished it +yesterday. To-day during my moments of leisure I split a few cords of +kindling wood and carried it into the kitchen, but I like splitting wood +better than heaving coal when it comes to making a choice. + +I’ve been very popular with “Local Board No. 163,” since I’ve been in +the kitchen. Honestly, if that dog had intelligence enough, I could +almost believe that he induced that flea to start this dirty work, for +he’s the only one in the whole company who has benefited by it. He hangs +around the galley all the time and is waxing fat, prosperous and greasy; +greasy because he got in the way of some dishwater that was being +emptied out the back door. And now I’ll have to give him another +scrubbing before we turn in, or he’ll be crawling in under my blankets +again. + +Strange I haven’t received any letters yet. Some chaps are lucky. +Letters seem to make a big difference in things, even if it’s only +listening in on some other fellow’s. Every one reads letters out loud so +that we can all enjoy them, for letters, no matter whom they are from, +are real events here and one always gets a sinking feeling when he +discovers there aren’t any for him. + + + + +Thursday: + + +Real luck at last. No more kitchen policing, thank goodness. It all +happened thus: + +About the time we had cleaned up the remains of breakfast and I was +getting ready to turn out for “settin’ ups,” along comes the Captain +with two Lieutenants in tow, all with official looking papers. We lined +up and he looked us all over very critically. Then he read: + +“Any members of this company qualified to fill the following positions, +step one pace,” and a list of occupations followed that included +everything from barber to horse trainer and stage carpenter. Quite a few +of us stepped out. About ten of the Italian contingent responded at the +word barber. Fat came forward as stage carpenter, and when he said +artist I stepped three paces forward instead of one and, saluting, +handed him my recommendation for the Camouflage Corps. I knew I wasn’t +doing quite the proper thing. But you see we were all young and innocent +of such things as military courtesy, and the Captain overlooked the fact +that one pace didn’t mean three, and after he had mentally debated the +question of calling me down in front of the company and had given me the +benefit of inexperience, he read the recommendation. + +[Illustration: Fat was looking for the same barracks] + +The result was that I was ordered to report immediately to the 2-6 +Company, 5-2 Depot Battalion. And with visions of avoiding physical +exercises for about two hours and the preparing of a midday meal, I +needed no urging. I gathered up my bed, hay mattress, blankets and all +and proceeded to find the barracks of the 2-6 Company, 5-2 Depot +Battalion. + +Of course, it had to be located at the other end of the twenty-four +square miles of reservation. But I had company. Fat, loaded down like a +dromedary under bed, blankets, a suitcase and all, was looking for the +same barracks. So we started on our wanderings together, hopeful of +finding our new home before dinner was served. + +We found it. And we found a lot of other fellows looking for the same +home. It seems this Depot Battalion, of which I am now a part, is +composed entirely of specialists, lawyers, linguists, engineers, +artists, architects, carpenters and what not, and just about the time we +were being transferred, other specialists were being selected from other +companies and sent on their way to the Headquarters Divisions of the +various regiments. So our corner of the camp has been quite popular all +day, with men staggering in under loads of personal belongings like a +lot of gipsies looking for new places to hang their O.D’s. + +We, I mean Fat and myself, are among a different class of fellows now +and this moving business has changed my opinion of the camp. From a hit +or miss proposition as it first appeared, it has become a very +systematic and well-organized cantonment. It is being worked out like a +gigantic piece of machinery and there isn’t any question in my mind now +but that we will all, sooner or later, fit into the places where we will +be able to serve the Government best. Here I have been trying for months +to discover how I can get into the Camouflage Corps, which so far as I +could learn was a mythical organization which no one knew very much +about. Meanwhile, I have been hoping to keep out of the draft army for +fear of being side-tracked and given a bayonet, instead of a paint +brush, to beat the Huns with. + +[Illustration: Material for the camouflage unit] + +And here I am conscripted, and inside of a week singled out as material +for the Camouflage unit, with a nice place waiting for me to stay until +said unit needs me. They are doing it up in really businesslike fashion +and no doubting it. + +But in the shuffle I’ve lost my dog. He’s only been with me a few days +and he’s done nothing but get me into trouble all the time, yet I miss +the little beggar. He wasn’t about when I gathered up my belongings this +morning, and I haven’t had time to look him up all day. Perhaps, before +taps I’ll wander down to the other barracks and see if I can find him. + + + + +Friday: + + +Real work began in earnest here this morning, for the officers in +command of the various companies of the Headquarters Divisions, or Depot +Battalions, or whatever it is these particular departments are called, +are determined to rush our drill instructions as fast as possible, +because there is no telling when any one or any number of us will be +needed somewhere else in the U. S. A. or in France, all of which sounds +promising for a quick change. I’m willing, and I sure hope it’s France. + +Our day is just filled full of hay-footing and straw-footing and squads +righting and all that sort of thing. I am learning things gradually by +dint of much cussing on the part of our Sergeant, who is also late of +the Regular, and who certainly has as choice a vocabulary as our former +drillmaster. + +We must have a very capable Mess Sergeant in this barracks, for the +meals here are mighty good; better than those we received in the other +barracks. We actually had ice cream and tea this noon, a thing unheard +of in most of the barracks. + +And our cook is a wonder. He’s an old cockney sea-dog, who looks like a +regular buccaneer, and he has a parrot, too, whom he calls Jock. Jock +spends most of his time sitting on the edge of the coal bin shrieking +“Lazy Pig.” But neither Jock nor his master has a sense of humour; the +cook gets mad when he finds a man trying to ring in a third helping and +when he gets mad, Jock screams: “Lazy pig, lazy pig,” and dances up and +down in a frenzy. + +[Illustration: Our cook looked like a regular buccaneer.] + +I went back to the old barracks last night, to find the place almost +filled with new men, all worried looking and pale, and much disturbed +over that first night horror, the “needle.” I didn’t relieve their +mental anguish a particle, which was most unchristian-like. + +Several of the men remaining from the former company told me that most +of the original company had been split up between the “Suicide Club” +which is the machine gun companies, the transportation division and the +infantry. As for “Local Board No. 163” no one had seen him about. +Possibly he has become disgusted with high-toned individuals who object +to fleas, and has gone off and joined the infantry. Well I wish him +luck. + +I really believe I’m taking a very deep interest in this soldiering +after all. I didn’t think I would at first, but now I find I’m watching +the colour of my hat cord with interest. I want to see it lose its +newness and get faded-out looking, like a regular soldier’s hat cord. + + + + +Saturday: + + +On the camp calendar, to-day is marked down as a half-holiday, which is +another one of the pleasant little jokes they have down here. It is a +half-holiday. We quit drilling at twelve o’clock. But there is a Sunday +ceremony they have called inspection and sometimes when the Lieutenant +wants to leave camp early on Sunday he decides to hold inspection on +Saturday afternoon. + +About twelve o’clock some one reminds some one else that the +aforementioned ceremony is on the program of weekly events, and thereby +spoils the whole pleasure for the day. At inspection the Lieutenant +saunters through the barracks, inspects the beds and the stacks of +underclothing, socks and similar equipment piled thereon, and if said +underclothing, etc., do not show signs of recent acquaintance with soap +and water, almost anything is likely to happen. + +And, of course, since no one is systematic about doing washing, all the +dirty clothing and extra socks pile up until Saturday, and then on the +half-holiday the scrubbing tables in the rear of the barracks are the +most popular playgrounds. + +The washing process is interesting. Every one lines up and dips into the +same basin of water. Government soap is supplied in quantities, so are +the scrubbing brushes. One lays his jeans and undershirt out nice and +smooth on a long table, pours a basin of water over them, applies the +soap as if it were a holy-stone until the underclothing is covered with +a soft yellow scum. And then he spends the rest of the afternoon trying +to get the soap off. The more lather a chap makes the better washerman +he is, from all appearances. + +The rear of the barracks on a Saturday afternoon looks like a string of +tenement house backyards, with flapping garments hanging from +everything, including the electric light wires, and men in various +degrees of attirement stand around waiting for the garments to get dry. +Oh, you daren’t leave them and go off on some other mission while the +wind does its duty. You simply have to stick and keep a careful eye on +everything you own, otherwise:—well it works on the principle that the +man who grabs the most is the best-dressed man for the following week, +and if you are not there to prove ownership you are liable to find a +pocket handkerchief where your undershirt was and the handkerchief isn’t +always what it was originally intended to be. + +I did manage to get my wash done and gathered up in time to see the last +ten minutes of a Gaelic football game over on the parade grounds. But +next week I’m going to take the advice of the Sergeant who suggests that +I follow the example of Regular Army men and wash each piece as it +becomes soiled. I wonder if I am systematic enough for that? + + + + +Sunday: + + +No I didn’t draw a pass. I’ve been around camp the whole bloomin’ day, +but there were about fifteen thousand lucky fellows who did draw passes. +I saw them going down in groups for every train to the city since four +o’clock yesterday afternoon. But Fat and I seem to be a bit unlucky. +Poor Fat, he has wanted a pass to get home and see his mother ever since +he has been here. But a pass wouldn’t do him much good. He hasn’t any +uniform yet. Still waiting for the army tailors to get busy. I wouldn’t +be surprised if they shipped him to France with no more Government +property than a khaki shirt. We’ve been consoling each other most of the +day. Fat’s a good chap and a mighty likeable fellow. + +It has been a day of rest, however, for all except Giuseppi, the +company’s barber. He has done a tremendous business; shaved every one, +from the Captain down. + +[Illustration: Giuseppi’s methods are unique and interesting] + +Giuseppi’s methods are unique and interesting. Somewhere he found two +planks, which he brought into the dormitory, and, by catching the lower +ends under the iron work of one cot and propping them against the side +of another, he contrived an affair that resembles remotely a steamer +chair. Line forms to the right. Bring your own brush and shaving stick +and do your own lathering for a quick and effective shave. + +I can’t guess how many he shaved. The line stretched the length of the +dormitory from breakfast to dinner time. The men dabbed their brush into +a single basin of cold water and moistened their faces while standing in +line. Then as they moved on they soaped and lathered their own faces and +rubbed it in thoroughly. And by the time they reached the plank their +bristles needed only a final application of lather and Giuseppi got busy +with the razor. + +He is a wonder. All he did this morning was strop and shave, strop and +shave, and at ten cents a head—no I mean face—(twenty cents a head, only +no hair cut on Sunday) I guess he made a fair week’s wages. As each +victim left the planks, said victim wiped the remaining lather from his +face, ears and nose and applied his own talcum powder. + +Perhaps Giuseppi’s business was increased by his announcement: “No shava +for tree days now. To-morrow I getta da needle for twice times. No can +use my arm vara moch.” + +Which reminds me that I am scheduled for my second inoculation +to-morrow. + +I have been discovering some of the unknown who are in our midst. +Unearthed a popular song writer (whose income before he adopted the +dollar-a-day job for Uncle Sam was reputed to be $10,000 a year). I +didn’t unearth him really. He bobbed up this morning, when several of +the fellows were playing mouth organs, and now, behold, he’s organizing +a glee club. Then there is a linguist, who is fresh from the biggest +financial institution in the world where he handled all their French and +Spanish translation work. He has started a class in French which is in +session for an hour every evening. We are all _Parlez vous_-ing with +more or less (mostly more) inaccuracies. But what we lack in accent and +correct pronunciation we make up for in genuine Parisian gestures. Oh, +we’re there all right. + +Another of our enterprising members is a well-known landscape gardener, +who, in co-operation with one of our several architects, has organized a +campaign for a “barracks beautiful,” all of which doesn’t mean very much +to most of us, but gives them a good opportunity to dispose of their +spare time. Our afternoons have been spent in pulling stumps in the +vicinity of the barracks and grading the street and dooryard until now +no one would ever recognize it for the same place. But the landscape +gardener has carried the work a bit further and with the assistance of +several of us, including myself, gone off into the woods and dug up a +score or more of pine and cedar saplings about five feet high. These +have been transplanted in the form of a hedge around our barracks, on +top of a tiny terrace, and they certainly soften the outlines of the +unpainted building and add a touch of that which is lacking in the +vicinity of most of the structures. + +He, the landscaper, has placed whitewashed stones at conspicuous +corners, too, and on either side of our tiny porch he has worked out the +number of the company and the number of the division in concrete +letters, which the camp orderly scrubs industriously every morning to +keep them white and presentable. The job of camp orderly, by the way, is +the worst job a man can be detailed to here, being one degree lower than +kitchen police; and since I know mighty well the rigours of that, I’m +going to steer clear of this other form of punishment, if it is humanly +possible to do so. + +The Sunday crop of visitors flocked to camp as usual to-day and I +entertained several who did not come to see me especially, but who +brought along such delightful lunch that I felt constrained to show them +about and be pleasant to them at least while the lunch lasted. + + + + +Monday: + + +We were excused from drill this morning for the purposes of being shod +and getting our second inoculation. Getting our shoes was the most +interesting and least painful of the two. + +After being shot (in the left arm this time) we proceeded to the Q. M., +where in one portion of his domain shoes were being issued, two pairs to +a man, one pair for work and the other for rest and fatigue. + +Of course, immediately the fitting began the men started to protest that +they were insulted by being given shoes too large for them. But that +didn’t disturb the shoe man, who merely told them to mind their own +business and he’d take care of their feet, which belonged to the +Government anyhow. + +[Illustration: Each man was loaded with a fifty pound bag of sand.] + +Standing on a flat surface in stocking feet, each man was loaded with a +fifty pound bag of sand. Then when his feet had spread as much as they +possibly could, measurements were taken from every angle, just exactly +as if the shoes were to be built especially for the foot they were to +adorn. The collection of figures was then gone over, and compared with a +chart, after which two pairs of shoes were found corresponding with the +dimensions covered by number so-and-so. I’ve forgotten what my number +is, but I will confess that while the shoes are several sizes larger +than I would ever think of buying in a shoe store, I have never had +anything on my feet that gripped my heels and instep and ankles so +firmly and yet allowed me room enough to wiggle my toes around. The +dress shoes and the trench brogans of unfinished leather with half-inch +soles filled with hobs, and steel plated heels, feel more comfortable +than any shoes I have ever owned, and I gratefully accepted the two +pairs issued to me and left for my quarters. + +[Illustration: “I like t’ geev da Kais a keek in da face wid-a dose +shoes”] + +On my way up the road I passed an Italian who seemed so pleased with his +new footwear that he just couldn’t help exhibiting them to me. “Look,” +he said, waving his huge foot, shod with the trench shoes, about +promiscuously, “look ad da shoos. I like t’ geev da Kais a keek in da +face wid-a dose shoos. Bet he no smile some more dan.” Then he added, by +way of showing his qualifications to muss up the Kaiser, “I belonga to +ah wreckin’ crew sometimes when I don’t come down here.” + + + + +Tuesday: + + +SWEAR; If you can’t think of anything else to say, but do it +softly—very, very softly, so no one else but yourself will hear you. + +Thus reads the sign that hangs over the door of the Y. M. C. A. shack, +at the end of our camp street. That’s what I call social work humanized. +The Y. M. C. A. here is the most human institution in this big, rawly +human community. It is the thing that puts the soul in soldier as one +chap expresses it. And because it is that way, and because the men feel +at home and have a real time, and can smoke and put their feet on the +table, they think the red triangle is the best little symbol about the +big camp. The “’Sociation” is making thousands of friends every day +among these strapping big, two-fisted fellows who really never knew what +the organization was. It’s bully. We all wander over there sometime +during every evening, if it’s only to listen to a new record on the +phonograph. + +[Illustration: Our $10,000 a year song writer] + +The shacks (I don’t know how many there are, but there must be at least +a dozen of them) are the centres of amusement and entertainment for us +all. And we have some corking concerts and other forms of entertainments +there. I don’t think I’ll ever forget our $10,000 a year song writer as +he appeared last night, for instance, standing on top of the piano, his +hair all mussed up and his army shirt opened at the throat, singing a +solo through a megaphone. And it was some solo! About fifteen hundred +huskies in khaki stood around and listened to him and joined in on the +choruses. + +Then they have lectures: “Ten Years as a Lumber Jack,” “Farthest North,” +by a certain well-known explorer; “My First Year of the Big War,” and +similar subjects appear on the bulletin boards every other night. +Nothing of the Sunday School variety about that sort of thing. + +And our prize fights! + +I’m all excited yet over the one I saw to-night. It was a whale of a +battle; I mean the last one was, there being several on the program. The +fellows fight for passes to go home on Sunday and the decision is left +up to the onlookers. And if we don’t make the scrappers work for those +passes, then no “pugs” ever did work. + +Most of the boxers are former pugilists who have been gathered up in the +draft net, and so long as they can get a chance to put on the gloves +they are just as pleased to be here as anywhere else from all +appearances. But sometimes the scrappers aren’t “pugs” at that; just +plain citizens who possibly have been shadow boxing in the secrecy of +their bedrooms for the past ten years and longing for courage enough to +step into the ring with a real fighter and discover how good (or how +bad) they are. They are getting the opportunity here all right, and some +of them are uncovering a likely line of jabs and counters. One +fair-haired youngster downed a mighty pugnacious-looking Italian a few +nights ago. + +But to-night’s final was a winner. Three scraps had been pulled off with +real enthusiasm and after the final round, there was a call for more +material, but no one in the crowd came forward to put on the gloves. +There were calls and jeers and all that sort of thing, then suddenly out +from the crowd stepped a soggy-looking, little red-haired fellow. + +Yells of “Yah Redney!” “Hi Redney!” “Good boy Brick Top!” + +Redney blushed considerably and held up his hand for silence. And when +he got it he explained. + +“I ain’t a-going to fight no one but our Mess Sergeant. That’s what I’m +out here for, and I’ll stick here till he comes.” + +Calls for Mess Sergeant. He wasn’t present. A speeding messenger from +Red’s company hurried out through the night to find him. Ten minutes +later, said Sergeant, a soggy-looking chap himself, was brought in and +amid yells from the crowd he stepped inside the ring. He looked once at +Brick Top, then spat on his hands and said: + +“Where’s them gloves?” + +Gloves were produced and laced on, then without the preliminary +handshake they squared off and went to it. And what a battle! They +didn’t stop for rounds, or time out, or anything. They just ducked and +punched and whaled away at each other until the blood began to spatter +all over and still they kept at it. I don’t know what the +misunderstanding between them was and didn’t find out, but they sure +meant to settle the thing once and for all. + +And the spectators; they went wild. + +For ten minutes steadily the fighters milled and I never saw a better +slugging match. The Sergeant had had more experience in boxing, that was +certain, but what Red lacked in skill he made up for in hitting power. +Every time his glove met the Sergeant’s face it smacked as loud as a +hand clap. + +[Illustration: They didn’t stop for rounds, or time out, or anything.] + +Then just when it seemed as if they must be tired out, there was a +sudden clash and a whirl of fists and Redney ducked away and started one +from the floor. It was an uppercut and it found a clean hole between the +Sergeant’s two arms, and met him flush on the point of the jaw. He +staggered, tried to fall into a clinch, missed the elusive Redney and +went down with a thump. + +“1-2-3-4-5-6-” counted the referee. + +The Sergeant rolled over and tried to get up. “Don’t hold me down; lemme +at him,” he said huskily. But no one was holding him down. It was his +refractory nerves. They wouldn’t obey his will power. + +“7-8-9-10,” tolled off the fateful numbers. Then what a yell went up for +Redney, and Red, almost all in, himself, evidently had satisfied his +grudge, for he went over and helped stand the groggy Sergeant on his +feet. + +And all agreed it was some battle. + +But the Y.M. shacks aren’t dedicated to prize fights and swearing and +concerts entirely. They are the nearest approach to home or club life +that most of us come in contact with for weeks at a stretch. The big, +open hearths with their crackling logs are mighty fine places to spend a +pleasant hour or two. Then there are the writing tables, and the reading +rooms with their books and magazines, and the phonographs. + +The other night I saw a great big fellow, with burly fists and a stubbly +beard on his chin (it must have been the night before his bi-weekly +shave, which is as often as most of us can find time—or the inclination +to use a razor) snuggled up close to the phonograph and listening +attentively to the “Swanee River,” which he was playing as softly as the +instrument would permit, and now and then he would blow his nose in a +big handkerchief and wipe suspicious signs of moisture from the corners +of his eyes. He was having a regular sad drunk and enjoying every moment +of it. I’ll bet he thought he was the most homesick mortal in camp. + +Then there are the telephone booths. Every night there is a line of at +least fifty men waiting patiently for a chance in the booth. At a dollar +a call they ring up the folks in the city and have five minutes’ chat +with them, just by way of warding off an attack of homesickness. I’ve +used the booth five dollars’ worth to date. + +These army breeches I’m wearing, I noticed to-night, are very +comfortable. I like the deep, straight pockets in them. I think I’ll +have my civilian suit made with those kind of pockets hereafter. But I +haven’t gotten over the habit of pulling them up each time I sit down so +that they won’t get baggy at the knees. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +Found my dog! + +I was over in another section of the cantonment this morning, for a few +moments between drill and mess call, and there was “Local Board No. 163” +as big as life, trotting along beside a chap I knew. It was Billy Allen. +The dog recognized me and so did Billy and we stopped a while and +compared notes. + +Billy had the worst hard luck story in respect to the Draft of any man I +know. He’s an old National Guardsman, having enlisted soon after we left +school together. Spent eight years in the infantry, and went to the +Border. He left the service after he got back and a little later when a +call came for men for the Officers’ Reserve Corps he applied and was +accepted, for the second camp. Meanwhile he had registered as a man of +draft age. Then came his call for Officers’ Training Camp, where he was +making out famously; so well in fact that he was recommended for the +aero-plane service. + +But the recommendation was as far as he got. The drawing had meanwhile +been made in Washington, he was well up in the list and one fine day he +received a notice to appear for examination. Of course he passed and was +accepted. That yanked him out of the Officers’ Reserve and now he’s down +here, a private in the “Suicide Club,” with Buck Winters, an old +classmate of both of us, his commanding officer. + +I told him about “Local Board No. 163” whom he had dubbed “Mut” because +he looked it. First we were going to match for the dog, but we decided, +after a moment’s reflection, to let him choose his master. Billy said +good-bye and walked one way and I walked the other and the dog, after a +moment’s hesitation, went with Billy. And so I lost my dog a second +time. I guess he didn’t like my cold water treatment for fleas. + +An interesting thing happened here to-day that just shows how vast this +huge cantonment is. The cot next to Fat and two below me has been vacant +ever since we have been here. To-night a chap came in from the barracks +next door, bag and baggage, and took possession of it. Fat made his +acquaintance right off, and the newcomer told him that he had been +transferred to this company about the time we were—a week or so ago—and +since no one told him where to go or where to bunk he went to the +barracks next door and took a cot. + +But he really belonged in here and was a member of our squad, which for +some mysterious reason had always remained a seven-man squad, with the +eighth man assigned to it but never heard from. Every roll call he had +been marked absent, and he had been put down as a deserter and an alarm +sent out for him through the country. At the present moment the New York +police are searching diligently for him. + +[Illustration: I guess he didn’t like my cold water treatment for fleas] + +And all the time he has been within a biscuit toss of his proper place. + +Over in the other company he was an outcast, and they didn’t know what +to do with him. They were on the point of sending him back to the city +as an interloper when somehow the mistake was discovered and he was +summoned to report over here. The interesting part of it is, that he is +an expert accountant, and his specialty is searching out mistakes that +other people make in the way of misplaced figures and things. + +So far as the police were concerned, he said, he didn’t care much, for +the last place they would ever look for him was down here. Speaking of +deserters, I noticed three sets of finger-prints on our bulletin board +which means that three men have taken French leave and they have prices +on their heads, already. + + + + +Thursday: + + +This has been a moist and soggy day. I don’t know that I have ever seen +so much rain before in one storm as I have to-day. Before daylight it +began; a perfect downpour, so violent that for reveille we lined up in +the mess hall. None of us ventured out to wash up, but those of us who +missed a cold sprinkle the most had merely to poke our heads out of the +windows for a moment and then reach for a towel. Some wetness. + +The camp is a veritable sea of mud, and those who go outdoors at all do +so to the imminent peril of becoming mired and never returning. From the +mess-hall windows at breakfast we could watch the big heavy motor truck +of the transportation train, skidding and sloshing about in the road, +down which flooded a perfect torrent of muddy rain water. Several of +them became hopelessly stuck in the sticky mud, and their drivers +abandoned them and raced for cover in the Y. M. C. A. shack. Officers +and men everywhere have given up all idea of outdoor work and the camp +streets look forlorn and deserted. They stretch away down the hill to +fade into the misty blur of the rain itself, and on either hand stand +the long, unpainted barracks buildings, with dripping eaves and rain +blowing in sheets from their tinned and tar-papered roofs. Outside, it +is a dismal, deserted-looking cantonment, with scarcely a sign of life, +save now and then a venturesome canine mascot scuttling from one +sheltered spot to another. + +Drilling, of course, is utterly impossible and the nearest approach we +have had to anything resembling military training to-day is a lecture on +sanitation in the mess hall by the First Lieutenant. + +But the rain has not dampened our desires for amusement and as a result +the interior of the sleeping quarters presents, at the present time, a +picture that only a Remington could do justice to. Atmosphere sticks out +all over the place. Army overcoats, tunics, variegated comforters, +blankets, mess kits, sweaters and flannel shirts are hanging from every +peg, and men are sprawled on their cots, in various attitude, some +trying hard to sleep, some writing, one man thoughtfully locating the +notes of a new tune on a mouth organ, while another over in the +corner—an Italian—is the centre of an enthusiastic group, while he plays +doleful things on an old accordion he has smuggled into camp. The air is +blue with tobacco smoke. + +A number of us are writing, including myself, but the chief centres of +interest are the two big poker games and the big crap game down at the +end of the room. + +They are all playing with that oppressive quietness that portends big +stakes. I was startled a while ago upon walking over to the nearest +group to discover eighty dollars, in ones, fives, and tens on the top of +the army cot that served as a table in a single jack pot, and they were +still betting. Our two Regular Army Sergeants are members of one group +and Fat is sitting in at another. From the length of time he has stayed +and the smile on his face, I can only guess that luck is with him for +once. + +But it has failed a lot of others. Now and then a man leaves one game or +the other, looking sort of hopeless. There is always some one to take +his place, however. + +One of these fellows, gone broke, hit upon a happy idea which caused no +end of interest for an hour or two this afternoon. After he had gone +broke he left the game and sat thoughtfully on the edge of his cot for a +while. Then he dug down into his duffel bag under his cot and brought +forth a razor. Speedily he made up some raffle tickets on slips of note +paper and presently, with the razor in one hand and his campaign hat in +the other, he started through the room selling chances on the razor at a +dime a chance. The raffle was held over in our corner, and one lucky +chap got the razor, easily worth two fifty, for a single dime and the +erstwhile owner, with five dollars worth of change in his pockets, +returned to the game. + +That started the raffle bug, and presently a wrist watch was put up, +then another razor of the safety variety, a fountain pen, an extra hand +knitted sweater which some one had luckily acquired, several boxes of +crackers which every one took a chance on at a cent a chance and a +variety of other things. But the crackers were the most popular and that +helped one ingenious and venturesome chap to evolve a money-making +scheme. + +In the height of the rainstorm, he was seen to don his slicker, and +hurry out into the storm. He splashed all the way over to the Post +Exchange (about half a mile) to return a half-hour later with four pies +for which he had paid forty cents each and three dozen boxes of crackers +all in good condition. The crackers went for double their value and the +pies he successfully split up into twelve fair-sized portions which sold +for ten cents each. That trip in the rain netted him nearly seven +dollars he told me, and that seven dollars later on, invested in the +crap game, trebled itself; so, all things considered, he has had a more +or less successful day. + + + + +Friday: + + +It is fast getting home to me now that in spite of the heterogeneous +conglomeration, of races and creeds and languages, the National Army is +going to be the real thing as a fighting force after all. Every one is +keen for the thing now that the first violent attacks of homesickness +have worn off and they are going at their work of becoming soldiers with +a will, except, of course, for a few: the conscientious objectors; and +their life is no merry one. They are mighty unpopular, as numerous black +eyes attest. Every one takes the slightest opportunity to emphasize +their displeasure at the stand these men have taken. And some of them +are going around here under a cloud. For instance, the one in the +Machine Gun outfit who drills in pumps and summer suit but who has the +pleasure of knowing that after his soldiering is all over with, he has +three years to spend in Atlanta or some other Federal jail for little +things he has done and views he has expressed. + +We have one of the breed in our company, a Jew; and he’s the most +unpopular man in the outfit, even among those of his own race. All of +this variety, (the “objectors” I mean), who have come to my notice, are +sorry specimens of manhood for the most part and I can’t blame an +able-bodied chap for despising them. + +The foreign element is taking hold like real Americans. It is +interesting to get their slant on the whole affair. Many of them didn’t +want to come. They had their own ideas of army life, suggested, +doubtless, by tales they have heard of service in the European armies of +former days. But when they were called they came; and behold, when they +arrived and lived through the first days, they were surprised to find +that they still were treated like human beings, had certain indisputable +rights, were fed well and cared for properly and worked under officers +who took a genuine interest in their welfare. This was something most +unexpected. Right off they decided that they were going to get all they +could out of this new life and give in return faithful and honest +service. + +[Illustration: “Make-a me strong, make-a me beeg, an’ best-a make-a me +good American”] + +“It’s fine, I like it,” assured a little Italian friend of mine in the +infantry. “I like it because it help make me spick good English, make-a +me strong, make-a me beeg an’ best-a what is, make-a me good American, +jus like-a de boss Lieuten’.” + +And in that last sentence, I believe, lies the charm of it all to most +of the foreigners. They have learned that America and things American +are fine and clean and good and their ambition now is to become a real +American “jus like-a de boss Lieuten’.” And when they get to be real +Americans, they are going to be proud of the fact and they are going to +fight to prove it; that’s certain. + +The camp is still soggy to-day and we have drilled ankle deep in mud. My +feet have been wet from the time I stepped out of the barracks until an +hour ago, when I changed my socks and put on my dress shoes. But shucks, +what appetites we brought back with us from the parade grounds. I never +did care for fish, but I’ll be hanged if I didn’t eat three helpings of +the creamed salmon and spaghetti to-night. + +A new wrinkle has developed here. We find out what the fellows are going +to have for supper in nearby barracks and if the feed promises to be +better than what we are to have several of us take our mess tins and go +over and stand in line there. The Mess Sergeant never knows the +difference. + + + + +Saturday: + + +Sad news this evening. Only twenty-five per cent. of each company is to +be allowed to go home to-morrow, because of the disorder and general +trouble at the railroad terminal last Sunday. And the twenty-five per +cent. is to be drawn out of a hat. No chance for Fat or me, that’s +certain. We’re mighty unlucky when it comes to passes and we are laying +odds now that neither of us will get permission to go to the city. +Anyhow, Fat is still in the same predicament. If he does get a pass he +won’t be able to leave the camp. + +At the present writing we are all waiting for the mess call. And +immediately after mess the Sergeant will do the drawing of the names for +the passes. If I am not among the lucky ones I’m going to try and—there +goes the mess call! + + + + +Sunday: + + +I am ready to die with a smile on my lips and a great happiness in my +heart, for I’ve spent one night between clean sheets, on a really soft +bed. I’ve eaten with a silver knife and fork from real dishes +and—whispered softly—in the privacy of my own home I had a glass of +beer! + +No, I wasn’t lucky (neither was Fat) but I think I put something over on +Uncle Sam. + +The passes for the city were drawn for as per schedule and since I was +down at the bottom of the list I was not included in the first +twenty-five per cent. The passes issued read for New York City, and the +men holding them were privileged to leave by certain trains, being +marched down to the station under the watchful eye of the Second +Lieutenant. + +Then, after these men were all away, came the opportunity for the men +who lived near the camp and the men who wanted to visit nearby towns to +apply for leave. This was my opportunity. I applied for thirty-six +hours’ leave to visit the town of R——, twenty miles distant, and secured +it. + +Back in the barracks an interesting scene was taking place, scores of +tickets of leave had been handed out to the men, to take the night and +following day off, but to get out of camp they must be able to pass +inspection with perfect and well-fitting equipment, and since all of us +had not our full outfit, we had to hustle around and borrow articles of +clothing that would fit and look satisfactory. I, for instance, have a +full winter uniform except for overcoat (which I have not received) and +tunic, the one I am wearing being a summer coat of cotton and hardly +matching the wool trousers I possess. So I had to join the crowd who +were bartering, exchanging and renting uniforms. And since the first men +to leave had done the same thing to a certain extent, there was not much +desirable clothing left in the barracks. Overcoats were going at a +dollar a day and breeches and jackets for fifty cents each. After a +diligent search I did find a chap who had a winter tunic and summer +trousers and, wonder of wonders, his jacket fit me perfectly. We made an +exchange and I borrowed an overcoat at one dollar for the day, from a +chap who was not leaving camp, and sallied forth. + +Tramping down Twenty-third Avenue (the streets are all named here and +our barracks is on Fourteenth Street and Third Avenue), whom should I +behold but friend Billy, bound in the same direction. He had had the +same inspiration as I and he, too, had a pass for R——. We wandered on +together, but upon reaching the railroad station, our hopes of getting +to our destination were dashed. There were no more trains for R—— until +the morning! + +We wept. But our tears didn’t blind us to the fact that there were +occasional machines passing along the highway. So we walked out and +stood there in the moonlight and looked as lonesome and forlorn as +possible. + +And the first machine to come along was a beautiful big Pierce Arrow +limousine, with an old dowager, a pleasant and generous old soul, its +single occupant, save of course the chauffeur. We went to R—— in style; +and, moreover, we went there in a hurry, for with khaki in the machine +the chauffeur assumed that he had the right of way and full permission +to wreck the speed laws. + +At R—— we looked up time tables and discovered that we could get a train +into the city at ten-thirty, which was not so bad. Then, because our +passes really limited us to R——, we concluded that it was only fair to +the Government to at least eat a meal in that town and since we were +both hungry in spite of our recent mess, we searched for a restaurant. + +We found one; a French restaurant, which looked peculiarly deserted. The +door was locked, for some strange reason, yet there were several men in +aprons inside apparently hard at work. We rattled on the door and in a +moment the frowning proprietor came forward. But the frown changed to a +smile when he saw us. It was the khaki. He unbolted the door and, with a +ceremonious bow, welcomed us in, then closed the door and bolted it. + +And then he explained that this was a new restaurant not yet opened for +patronage. He expected to open up in a day or maybe two. But, of course, +he could not turn away two hungry soldiers, never. _Merci non!_ He had +nothing to serve us with, but what were our desires? Express them and he +would send out for the provisions, cook them and serve them. Steak! +Indeed, yes. In twenty minutes we would have a wonderful steak, French +fried potatoes, salad, coffee and ice cream. Jean would attend to it. + +And Jean did. He rustled up the steak and the rest and we alone occupied +the restaurant, and soon were eating the most delicious piece of beef we +believed we had ever put our teeth through. The bill! Nothing; nothing +at all—what?—well if we insist, one dollar each. Thank you! And now here +is a pen and some ink. You will please autograph each bill and behold, +when you return from glorious France, covered with glorious glory, you +should come in and see these two bills—the first money taken in at the +restaurant—framed and hanging there over the desk. And so, I suppose, +the future generation of visitors to R—— will be able to view these +immortal monuments to our—I don’t know what, unless it be our khaki +uniforms—hanging there in the French restaurant possibly surrounded by +wreaths as each anniversary of day before yesterday rolls ’round. + +We got the ten-thirty train for the city, and we almost got into trouble +too; or at least I did, for as we hurried into the smoker whom should I +see sitting buried in a magazine but the First Lieutenant of our +Company. Had he made the trip the same way we did? I don’t know and, of +course, I didn’t ask. We just walked through the car very swiftly and he +never looked up. + +It was fifteen minutes of midnight when I arrived home, let myself in +with my latch key which I have been carrying as a silent reminder of my +former terrifically wild (?) career; routed out the folks, and sat +swathed in bath-robe and dressing-gown until 3 o’clock, just talking. It +was bully. And then I tumbled into my own bed and slept and slept and +slept. I woke up at reveille all right—(it was just daylight)—grinned, +rolled over and slept and slept and slept some more. + +Then I had a real bath in a real tub with real hot water, and a lot of +real things to eat and real cigars to smoke and real friends to talk +with until five o’clock in the afternoon, when I crawled into my +regimentals once more, and went out to meet Billy by appointment. + +Going back via R—— route (which was necessary) curtailed our leave which +really continues until to-morrow morning at reveille, but then we were +very happy; so happy that when we arrived in R—— we chartered a taxi-cab +for the twenty mile drive out here and now I’m nearly frozen through +from the cold wind that blew in at us. And I’m tired, too, but I’m happy +and ready to turn in ten minutes before taps. + + + + +Monday: + + +I’ll need no “Melody in Snore Minor” to lull me to sleep to-night, for I +am thoroughly weary. It was intimated a day or so ago that our training +would be hurried a little so that we would be ready for a quick shift at +any time. But hurried doesn’t exactly describe it. It looks like an +early fall drive to me. + +We began at the beginning, this morning, and had our squad drills all +over again, and somehow in the juggling about of men to make up our +company formation I managed to get last place in line, and pivot man in +the front rank of the last squad. + +Before to-day I’ve been in the rear rank and had a screen of front-rank +men to cover up any blunders I might make, but being in the first file +gave me stage fright. And, of course, with the stage fright I +bungled;—forgot which was left and which was right. We began by facing, +and first chance I managed to turn left when the command was right. That +blunder made me more self-conscious. If I had had to talk I’m sure I +would have stuttered. As it was I stammered with my feet. + +Then “About Face.” + +I faced about all right, only I pivoted on a stump root that some stupid +had forgotten to dig out. The result was I lost my balance, and made +several movements instead of one before I came to position. + +At drills the Sergeants, who do most of the drilling, are equipped with +sticks about a yard long so that they can poke a rear-rank man in the +back without disturbing the front-rank men, and thus call attention to +blunders. Being a rear-rank man on the about face, I presently felt the +stick poking into my ribs and the command: + +“You step out here.” + +I stepped out, and was requested, along with much language, to go up in +front of the company and give a demonstration in the proper method of +“about facing.” + +[Illustration: A demonstration in the proper method of “about facing”] + +My self-consciousness fled immediately. I was mad. I wanted to talk +back, and make a few remarks about the Sergeant and the stump and +things. But I suddenly thought of a tour of kitchen police and +restrained myself. Instead I about faced with such energy that the +Sergeant knew I was boiling inside, and being a decent sort of a chap, +he sent me back to the ranks after a couple of demonstrations, instead +of keeping me out there for fifteen minutes as I have seen them do to +some fellows. + +After that I felt more at ease in the front rank. All morning long we +ambled across the landscape, doing squad and company movements. It was +just drill, drill, drill, for fifty out of every sixty minutes, the ten +minutes being allowed as rest periods. We reviewed all our previous +instructions and worked up to the point of forming company fronts, with +the movements of right and left front into line and on right into line, +and as pivot man, I think I did mighty well. Our squad never stepped off +a pace ahead of time on any of the formations. And when we were marching +back to the barracks at mess time, the Sergeant came up beside me, and +remarked, by way of apology for hauling me out of the ranks earlier in +the morning, that I was doing good pivot work. + +Perhaps we didn’t enjoy mess! Three helpings of navy beans for me with +pineapple marmalade, and a piece of salt pork on the side, not to +mention three cups of coffee and three slices of bread. I sure had luck +on the mess line to-day. + +This afternoon the First Lieutenant took charge of the company, and he +had us traipsing all over the landscape again, doing the same sort of +close order manœuvres, and when we lined up just before retreat he +announced that we would have rifles to-morrow morning. + +It is interesting to see how rumours travel and gather force in the +barracks. Some one, somehow, heard that an artist and a stenographer +from our company are to sail for France in a day or two. Of course, all +my friends have come to the conclusion that I am the artist. A chap told +me about it at mess this evening, and since then several dozen have +looked me up to shake hands with me and tell me good-bye, with such +remarks as: “Hear you have orders to sail for France to-morrow; great.” +“They tell me you got a commission from Washington and that you are +going across in a day or two,” or, “Say, you’re a lucky chap; where’d +you get the drag down in Washington?” + +But these queries fail absolutely to thrill me. I am quite calm and +undisturbed. I deny any “drag” whatever, and I know that I am not the +artist mentioned in the order for transfer, if there is any such order, +which I doubt. This is only about the _n_th time that same rumour has +been afloat as a result of which I have bade good-bye to my friends +about every other day only to discover myself still with them a week +later with the same old rumour bobbing up again. + + + + +Tuesday: + + +I’m really a soldier. I know the manual of arms. + +This morning, true to the First Lieutenant’s prediction, we drilled with +rifles and now I am quite convinced of the truth of the old saying that +a gun is dangerous without lock, stock, or barrel. Fat turned around +suddenly when he had his rifle over his shoulder and poked the muzzle of +it into my mouth; a regular Happy Hooligan performance, and now I have a +split (and considerably puffed) lip and a loose tooth to my credit in +this horrible war. + +We were marched over to one of the infantry barracks on the edge of the +big parade grounds and there we found our rifles; I mean ours for the +day only, because there are hardly enough in camp to equip us all yet +and we have to take turns using them. In the same way there is only one +field piece to each artillery company, but that doesn’t seem to worry +the artillery men much. + +They are doing some real drilling over on the other side of the camp. I +was surprised to discover a company at work digging trenches, another +company practising throwing hand grenades, with stones representing the +deadly Mill’s bombs, still another group constructing parapets of sand +bags, and working out machine gun emplacements, and in the distance +artillery companies hovering about a sleek looking gun, learning the +complicated parts and where and how the animals are served. + +Krags, instead of Springfields, are the rifles available for drilling +purposes here, and for the first hour this morning we devoted our time +to learning the floor plan of the thing. I was getting along famously +until Fat interrupted my investigations with the muzzle of his weapon. + +Soon after that we started drilling. And I think it is to our credit +that before noon we had mastered all the movements and that our pieces +snapped up to position with real vigour. + +“Let me hear them hands slap them pieces,” said the Sergeant; then +“Ri—sholler—harms! One-two-three-four! Pep, that’s it, pep an’ snap. +Slap ’em hard. Ordah—harms! One-two-three! _Done_ drop ’em—_done_ slam +’em down. Nex’ man slams ’em gits kitchen p’lice.” + +So we drilled until our arms ached, and rifles that weighed about eight +pounds at the beginning of the drill seemed to have increased to fifty +pounds, and felt as long as telephone poles. Perhaps we weren’t glad +when our First Lieutenant put a stop to the punishment and started us in +the general direction of the mess hall. + +And we had beef stew for dinner; beef stew with rich brown gravy, such +as our old biscuit shooter alone can make. + +But after mess we were back at it again. Only this time it was bayonet +practice, but not of the variety pictured in most magazines. We haven’t +reached the stage of charging trenches and swinging bundles of sticks. +Such advanced work comes later. + +Bayonets are awkward, ugly things, and I could not help being grateful +that Fat took it into his head to poke me in the mouth with his rifle +this morning instead of this afternoon. If he had waited until after +mess he wouldn’t have split my lip; he would have cut my head off. When +I saw him with bayonet fixed I gave him a wide radius of action. Indeed +I avoided him as if he were a plague. + +In open, or extended, order we lined up on the parade grounds in front +of one of these movable elevated platforms. Our Second Lieutenant +mounted this, and with a bayonetted rifle in hand went through the +various lunges, thrusts and parries of the bayonet manual, meanwhile +giving us a lecture, to the effect that no matter what the War +Department intended to do with us, a knowledge of bayonet fighting would +be essential. He assured us that the logical weapon for an American +soldier was the rifle. One of our birthrights is markmanship and another +is bayonet fighting. He briefly cantered over a century and a half of +history of the Republic and pointed out how we had won fame and honour +with bullet and bayonet, and he wound up by telling us that every +American soldier should prepare himself so that he would be as dangerous +to fool with as a stick of dynamite. Picture good-natured Fat +impersonating a stick of dynamite. + +Then we went at it. We lunged and thrust and parried until perspiration +began to stand out on our foreheads. From the corner of my eye I had a +vision of Fat trying to disguise himself as a high explosive. Every time +he lunged, he would scowl viciously and emit a loud grunt. I discovered +a few moments ago, however, that it was a case of over-eating at mess +time that caused him to grunt and frown every time he tried to move very +fast; not a desire to look ferocious, although I guess it passed for +that in the eyes of the instructor. + +And now I’m told we are to get this sort of training daily for a long +period; close order formation in the morning, with rifle and bayonet +drill in the afternoon and later on we will do skirmish work, trench +work and open order work with rifles. Some of the infantry companies are +already doing that. I was treated to the spectacle of two companies +scurrying across the upper end of the parade grounds like so many +rabbits. Now and then they would fling themselves down on their stomachs +and begin snapping away merrily with empty rifles at an imaginary enemy. + +We are a tired-looking company to-night. Already half the cots are +filled with men, some of them snoring lustily and it is only a quarter +to ten. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +There are a lot of things calculated to stir a chap’s sentimental streak +about this camp, particularly the nights; moonlight nights like to-night +for instance. Every hard outline of the huge place is softened under the +blue-black mantle of night, and the disagreeable things are lost in the +heavy shadows and the moonlight floods the open places, and glistens on +the rows upon rows of tin roofs and tall, gaunt-looking tin +smoke-stacks. Watch-fires (a sanitary precaution) blaze in their deep +holes in the rear of each barracks building, and the lonesome +fire-guard, bundled in his overcoat and with rifle over his shoulder, +stands silhouetted against the night sky beside each flaring pit. + +Out on the main streets of the camp are thousands of fellows in khaki, +walking aimlessly up and down, while in the by-streets between the +barracks buildings one sees shadowy figures and glowing cigarette ends +moving about in the darkness. Through the tiny panes of each barracks +window, partly obscured by overcoats and sweaters which dangle from pegs +inside, filters a warm yellow light, and as one moves down the row, one +hears from one building the music of an accordion and the rhythmic +shuffle of feet which tells of a “stag” dance being held in the mess +hall; while from another comes the soft plunk-plunking of a banjo and +the occasional drone of a mouth organ that seeks after harmony, but only +succeeds with an effort. + +Off to the right toward the parade grounds some fellows are singing and +their songs sound mighty good in the moonlight. And from far beyond +where the thick pine woods stand out black against the sky comes faintly +the hooting of a distant owl. + +On the main streets that skirt the outer edge of the cantonment on three +sides, the arc lights glisten, like rows of far off diamonds against the +velvet of a jewel box, and here and there, where two twinkle, like +low-hung stars, stand out the Y.M. shacks where the men are gathering +for an evening’s recreation. + +It is wonderful to wander out such nights as these. Bundled in a sweater +to keep out the chill of evening, and with only my pipe for company, I +often go tramping off through the by-streets of the camp. The smoke of +the hundreds of watch-fires is wafted to me on every breeze and in wood +smoke there is a charm; the charm of camping out. Never in my life will +I smell the smoke of burning pine wood, but that these nights will come +trooping through my memory, and I’m certain that I will be homesick then +and want to come back and live them all over again. + +And the things I often see:—the fire-guard for instance, who alone out +there behind the barracks was trying hard to read a letter by the light +of his flickering watch-fire. Was it a letter he had just received and +could not wait to open, or was it a letter that he had read many, many +times before and was rereading once again? Then the lonesome dog who sat +out in the company street and stared up solemnly at the moon, like a +lone wolf on the prairie. What instincts were being waked within him by +the moonlight? And the silhouette through the window of the chap sitting +on his cot patiently plying needle and thread and the two fellows who +leaned against the jacketed field piece in front of an artillery +barracks and talked in whispers, while through the opened door of the +buildings on either hand came the noise of a rousing good time within. + +Then the tramp up Tower Hill, where the headquarters building with its +darkened windows like sightless eyes stands out from the sparse remains +of the pine woods, flecked here and there with patches of moonlight. + +Far off across the great camp, and across the tops of the pines one can +dimly see from the top of the hill the ocean with the moonlight flashing +on its surface, and occasionally comes a breath of chilled salt air that +stirs a longing, vague and fleeting, as the ocean has always stirred a +longing in the soul of the adventurer. From here one can look down upon +the great camp. Thousands and thousands of roofs stand out in the +moonlight, and the watch-fires twinkle in orderly rows up and down each +camp street. Far off to the left are the big machine shops and forges of +the construction company, the forge fires glowing red against the night, +while faintly comes the far-off ring of anvils. Those forge fires, like +the bakery fires, never die. + +To the eastward is the railroad terminal with its panting engines and +its medley of noises, while nearer at hand but in the same direction is +the transport headquarters with its ceaselessly moving caravan of +rumbling, grumbling army trucks. All combines to make a picture that +holds one spell-bound. + +The days here are pleasant indeed, but the nights are almost +intoxicating. They cast a spell upon me and leave a memory that can +never fade. + + + + +Monday: + + +This place looks like a growing mining town somewhere out West, but for +real atmosphere, the civilian camp, outside the reservation, has the +cantonment looking really civilized. I went out there this evening after +mess; for I heard that there was a cigar store included in the outfit, +and the impression I got was a lasting one. Everything of the frontier +was there save the saloons and the gambling halls. Shacks, tents (rows +upon rows of them), lean-tos and all forms of domiciles. And the men who +walked the streets were of every variety, including real lumber jabs in +mackinaws and spiked boots, who had come down to cut away the timber; +Italians, Poles, Swedes, Slavs and what not, and a real cowgirl, in +short skirts and high leather boots, with a silk handkerchief scarf, +sombrero and a big thirty-eight strapped to her hip. She, I learned, +runs a motor bus between the civilian camp and the nearest towns. + +Cook fires twinkled outside of the tents, lights showed through the +canvas walls reflecting the huge, grotesque, shadowy figures of the +occupants. From one emanated the strains of an accordion and from +another the babble of voices that suggested a quarrel over a card game. + +I found the cigar store. I found other stores, too, just shacks thrown +together, but carrying a stock of everything in the line of wearing +apparel and eatables. One displayed the sign of “Jack’s Unsurpassable +Lunch,” another “The Elite,” and another “The Emporium.” There were +hundreds of squalid booth-like structures besides, where a host of +curious things were for sale to the hordes of big-fisted, deep-chested +men who were brought there to build the cantonment. But they tell me +that the civilian camp is fast breaking up now, for the cantonment is +almost completed. The remount stables for the artillery, the +refrigerating plant and the huge bakery are all that remain to be built +and the labourers are leaving in big groups. + +The temporary bakery (I passed it to-night on my way back to camp) is +represented by a double line of tents, before each of which is a big +field baking oven, its coal fire glowing from lower doors like huge, red +eyes and its gaunt smoke-stack reaching upward to terminate in a cloud +of black smoke which ascends higher and higher in long, graceful spirals +until it is lost in the darkness of the night. + +Before these ovens work the bakers, in khaki, of course, but each +swathed in a flowing white apron. With sleeves rolled up and shirts +opened at the throat, they wield their long bakers’ paddles, and as they +pass to and fro in the dull red firelight, they look elfish and +grotesque; exactly like a lot of gnome bakers off in the “nowheres” +baking bread for some ferocious ogre who bids them work incessantly. + +And these loaves they bake are indeed loaves for ogres; huge affairs two +feet long and as big ’round their rich brown girth as pumpkins. In +“sheets” of a dozen each they are brought from the fire and placed +steaming hot on a nearby table where an expert breaks them apart and +tests the tenderness of their fibre and searches for signs of +doughiness. These bakers are all of the Regular Army now, but not long +since czars of dingy cellar bakeries located anywhere from Boston to San +Francisco. But the ogre has called them together and here like gnomes +they work, eight hours each in three shifts and the oven fires are kept +burning always. + +Still we drill, drill, drill. This morning was spent in manœuvring and +tramping over the wet and soggy countryside in company formation, and +this afternoon, by way of variety, we were given a few hours fatigue +duty in the line of uprooting more stumps and gnarled tentacles, that +seem to have rooted themselves in China. But our hands are hard and +leathery now and our muscles no longer creak and pain under the stress. +I’ve added four pounds to my former weight and I have never felt more +fit in my life. + +[Illustration: They seemed to have rooted themselves in China] + + + + +Tuesday: + + +The cost of high living here is enormous. The stoop-shouldered, +shrewd-eyed, flinty-hearted Yankee clerks behind the broad counters of +the “Post Exchange” disdain anything less than a quarter. Dimes and +nickels are chicken-feed, and pennies—impossible. If a chap buys one +apple at five cents or one pear or one banana (always green and a long +way from being ripe) he has to hide himself in the crowd to escape the +baleful eye of these grasping sharks. Five cent crackers sell two boxes +for a quarter, penny candies are five cents each, cigars and cigarettes +are considerably above normal in price and considerably below in +quality, and ice cream sells for ten cents a gram. + +But none of us has grown up. We are all like big boys and we spend with +no thought of to-morrow. Mess over, we all hie out to the two main roads +that lead to the “Post Exchange,” jingling coins in our trouser pockets. +The “Exchange” itself is a long, low unpainted building like all other +buildings here with tiny back country windows, half-obscured by garments +hanging within which leave only a few dirty squares for the dull yellow +light to show through. + +The doors are broad and through them streams a never ending line of +troopers, some coming, some going. Inside, the place resembles nothing +more than a huge up-country general store with shelves upon shelves +stacked high with cracker boxes, shoe boxes, hardware and goodness only +knows what not, while from the rafters hang heavy coats, sweaters, +lanterns, huge stalks of green bananas, hams, bacon, boots and a lot of +useless things that only gullible soldiers who feel a yearning to spend +their money really purchase. But this spending of money somehow seems to +bring us closer to civilization for the moment and we join the churning +mass of men within, whose hobnailed shoes produce a great pounding and +scraping sound and whose voices are raised in a constant babble of +conversation which only the sharp ting, ting of the cash register bells +can punctuate. + +We mill around with the crowd, and soon are pushed against a counter. +Something attracts our eye. We feel a desire to possess it. We buy it, +and start milling about the room again until presently we are near the +door. Then we step out into the night again and join one of the groups +of loiterers or sit about on boxes and piles of lumber, where we devour +our purchase, if it happens to be in the line of crackers (which is +usually the case), or admire it, if it happens to be a pocket flash +lamp, a fountain pen or something else that we really never have had any +use for. + +The small-town idea prevails even in the city of thirty thousand +lonesome men. The “Post Exchange” and the “Post Office” are the two +centres of interest. First we wander to one, and then we wander to the +other, then with time on our hands we join the stream of men going up +one side of the road “just walkin’” and when we reach the point where +most of the crowd turns back, we turn back, too, and continue our +“walkin’,” with no particular place to go, until the streets begin to +get deserted and it is time for the town to close up. Then we disappear, +too, and for an hour occupy ourselves in the barracks until taps are +sounded and lights are out, when we go to bed; the place I’m headed for +now, so soon as I put the top on my fountain pen. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +[Illustration: Sick Call] + +That’s the call that brings out all the shirkers. They line up in the +morning and present all sorts of ailments from sore throat to heart +disease. + +The line is especially long on mornings when they know we are in for two +hours of “settin’-ups” or when some especially hard detail such as camp +orderly or kitchen police has been handed out. A day in the hospital +will relieve one of all these duties. This morning I was on the long +line. But I hasten to explain that _I_ was sick (that’s what they all +say, of course,) with chills and a scrapy feeling in my throat; and +since we are forbidden to take any medicine of our own, I shame-facedly +line up with the rest of them. There were about twenty all told and the +doctor made short work of us. + +“What’s the matter with you?” very cross. + +“I-I-I-here—it hurts,” said one, pointing to his back and looking quite +scared. The M. D. poked his finger into the spot designated. + +“Man you’re not sick,” said the doctor in a very startling manner, +“you’re almost dead, only you won’t lie down. You’ve dislocated a couple +of vertibraes, ruptured a half-dozen ligaments and like as not you have +a chronic case of pneumonia. The only thing that I can recommend for you +is two hours of strenuous exercise. You may pull through and you may +not.” Then, with a malicious grin, he turned to the next man and the +first invalid shuffled off, mumbling something about horse doctors +without any horse sense. + +Two out of twenty of us got by. The rest went to work. I was one of the +two. I had a slight temperature and an inflamed throat. Nothing serious, +but report to the hospital. I did. And the best thing about the hospital +was the fact that there were two sheets on the bed and I had an +abbreviated flannel nightshirt to sleep in. Three big pills, the size of +bullets and just as deadly, and then I turned in, went to sleep and +slept right through mess time. + +Four o’clock I was feeling very much better and ravenously hungry and at +five o’clock I was discharged as cured. I don’t know what I was cured +of, but I’m feeling much spryer just now after three helpings of beef +stew and apple marmalade and I’m ready to turn in and sleep some more. + + + + +Thursday: + + +If there is one thing that I want to remember more than anything else +about this Conscript Camp it is the spectacle I witnessed and took part +in this evening. + +Fancy if you can Tower Hill with its big headquarters building snuggled +in among the scattered and gaunt pines, the tall, ungainly water-tank +propped up on all too spindly-looking stilts. On top of this a single +figure thrown in bold relief by the golden yellow light of a big +watch-fire, beating time with his baton, and below him, clothing the +slopes of the hill five thousand men, his chorus, thundering forth +across the starlit night “Columbia the Gem of the Ocean.” That chorus +was wonderful; that crowd was wonderful; everything about it was +wonderful. + +We were all singing; thousands of fellows in khaki, some snuggled in +their big army overcoats, some puffed out like pouter pigeons with the +sweaters they had piled on under their tunics against the cold chill of +night. Intermingled were the lumber jacks and labourers from the +civilian camp, most of them in gay mackinaws and caps; with now and then +an officer immaculately clad in clean cut uniform, or a Y. M. C. A. man +in grey-green suit with red circle and triangle gleaming in the +firelight. And how well they could sing; I have never heard a more +stirring chorus and as we raised our voices loud and clear shivery +thrills raced up and down our spines, and we were stirred to the highest +pitch of patriotic fervor. Indeed, there were some among us who could +find no better way of expressing the emotion that swelled within save by +tears. They cried. I was one of them. + +“America” and “Dixie” and “Maryland” followed and every one produced its +own thrill and its own heartache. Never was there anything more +stirring, Never was there anything finer. We sang till our voices were +husky and the great chorus surged loud and clear across the night, until +it must have echoed against the crags of the Rhine and caused the Hun to +shudder. + +Then the breaking up of the big meeting, when groups detached themselves +and wandered out of the fitful flicker of the dying firelight into the +misty blue blackness of the night, still singing. Out through the +streets of the camp we tramped, stepping to the cadence of our own +songs. We were all happy, very, very happy and draft or no draft, down +in our hearts we all knew that we were in the very place we were meant +to be, and we were doing the very things that we should do, and that +when the time came we would do other and greater things with as much +eagerness and enthusiasm as we had sung up there on Tower Hill to-night. + +The whole camp was singing even after the concert, but the character of +the songs changed. “Over There” swelled forth everywhere and “The +Yankees Are Coming” was chanted in every street. Out toward our own +barracks our little group swung, passing the railroad siding where, +partly shrouded in the canvas jackets, new artillery pieces were waiting +to be moved in the morning. A cheer for these and a cheer for everything +and anything that suggested patriotism, and on we tramped, brimming over +with enthusiasm. + +And now I’m back to the barracks again, but the mysteries of the night +and the spell of the whole wonderful occasion is still over me and I +know I shall lie awake a long, long time and think and dream of all that +waits for me in the not very distant future. And the promises I made +myself up there on Tower Hill will all be fulfilled, that’s certain. + + + + +Friday: + + +Momentous news. We of the headquarters company, or rather eighty-seven +of us, start Monday on the first leg of that longed-for journey to +France. We go to a Southern training camp where new units are being +formed into which each of us will fit. And along with this news came the +announcement that none of us will be given a pass to go home for a last +good-bye. This has stirred the men more than the news of the transfer +South. Several impromptu indignation meetings were held this morning and +this afternoon, just after mess, a real demonstration took place in the +mess hall and most of the eighty-seven of us were loud in our assertions +that we would go home anyway, even though we were arrested for desertion +afterward. + +This little incident served to impress upon me more than anything else +the freedom that is accorded the men of this new American Army, for +behold, before the meeting broke up a Lieutenant came in and addressed +us on the penalties for desertion, the difficulty of dealing with +headstrong soldiers and similar subjects, and then when we all felt and +looked like slackers he announced that although orders had gone forth +that no passes were to be granted, our commanding officer, knowing our +feeling in the matter, was at that time trying very hard to arrange to +secure permission for the men to go home over Saturday night and Sunday. +As I left the mess hall I wondered vaguely how such a mass meeting would +have been treated in the German Army, for instance, and I thanked my +lucky stars that I was an American. + +But there are a thousand and one things remaining to be accomplished +to-day. I have been hurrying from one place to another since reveille +and now at taps all that I should do is not done yet. But to-morrow is +another day. + +First of all we were rushed off to receive our third and fourth +inoculations together. Then came the announcement that we would be +relieved of all our winter clothing and given a complete summer outfit +instead, for it appears there is no need for woollens in this Southland +camp to which we are going. + +And between times, there were a score of personal things I wanted to do, +not the least of which was to join the line of waiting men before the +telephone booths in the Y. M. C. A. shacks to tell them at home the news +of our going. In all this, poor Fat seems to be sadly left out, for he +is not among the fellows who are to leave. He stands helplessly by and +watches the hurry and bustle going on about him, and sometimes I think +there is a sad, wistful sort of a look in his big, good-natured face, +for I know he doesn’t like the idea of staying here when the snow begins +to fall and winds whistle disconsolately around the corners of the +barracks building. I am glad that _I_ will not have to spend the winter +here and I’m sorry, too, that Fat is not to be with me. + + + + +Saturday: + + +[Illustration: A soldier-boy in his native haunts] + +To-day, for the first time since I have been here, I had visitors. Those +at home, eager to get a glimpse of their soldier-boy in his native +haunts, came down to see things as they are. I’m quite certain that the +general arrangement of the barracks, with its cluttered appearance +suggested by many pairs of shoes standing around and many hats and coats +and old sweaters hanging about, did not accord with mother’s ideas of +good housekeeping. And she assured me that many of the old rose, pink +and baby blue comforters would not have suffered from a washing, all of +which I had never noticed before, until she drew my attention to it. She +intimated, too, that my dish towel and my hand towel would never testify +as to my respectable up-bringing, and she felt that I should make a +practice of taking off those abominably heavy trench shoes in the +evening and putting on a pair of slippers which she would send down to +me. She thought that a bath-robe might come in handy for lounging in the +evening and perhaps after we got comfortably settled in our Southern +quarters, she might send one of the big, roomy library chairs down to +me, for she did not approve of one’s sitting on one’s bed the way most +of us did. She deplored the total lack of chairs about the barracks and +she was quite sure that taking an ice cold shower out in that horrible +big tin building would certainly result in innumerable cases of +influenza, if nothing more serious. She’s a dear old mother and I don’t +know that I have ever appreciated her so much as I have since I’ve been +down here. + +Then with my visitors caring for themselves for a while, and mother +chumming up with the always affable Fat, whom she took quite a fancy to, +I hurried about my work of being re-outfitted with summer uniforms. +Fortunately they allowed me to retain my overcoat (which I received but +a few days ago) until we are ready to entrain. + +Then came the passes. The officer was successful and we who are to go +South are given a release from duty until to-morrow night at retreat. +Other passes were distributed, too, and Fat fortunate for once, yet +unfortunate, got one to go home until Monday morning. But poor Fat! +Still the military tailors lag and now that he has the pass that he has +been trying to get for this last month, he cannot use it, for he is not +properly uniformed to leave the cantonment, having still just his +flannel shirt. He tried frantically to borrow parts of a uniform to fit +him and while he could find a pair of breeches that he could get into, a +jacket was lacking, so in disgust, and with a most unhappy smile, he +gave it up and went over to the Y.M. telephone booth to ask his mother +to come down and visit him over Sunday. + +And to-night there are no taps for me, for I am home once more and +writing this at my own desk. We all came home together and had a bully +trip and now, after the best dinner I have eaten in many a day, I shall +see a real show at a real theatre, and sit up as late as I choose and +when I go to bed I will be between clean sheets again and there will be +no officers’ whistles to wake me in the morning. + + + + +Sunday: + + +Back again, but back to a sad and very unhappy barracks. Fat, poor, poor +Fat, who felt downcast because he was not going South, has gone on a far +longer journey. It is the first tragedy that has come into our life here +in our barracks and with the thoughts of the breaking up of the big +family on the morrow, and the homesickness, that most of us feel because +of our all too brief trips home, has cast a gloom over us all. + +Unfortunate Fat, done out of using his pass by the slowness of the army +tailors, telephoned home yesterday to have his mother come out to see +him. At train time this morning he was at the terminal awaiting her +arrival. But in the shifting of the cars back and forth in the yard an +accident happened and Fat, in the way of it, was one of its victims. +Both his legs were crushed and he was hurried away to the hospital. + +Meanwhile, his grey-haired old mother arrived and stood about the +terminal hour after hour wondering why he did not come for her, and it +was not until late this afternoon that one of the boys in our company +thought to go down and try and find her; which, fortunately, was not too +late to bid her son good-bye. + +And now we are on the eve of our departure. As I came through the +terminal an hour ago the troop train, a long line of nondescript +coaches, was being made up. As each car was made ready it was shunted +into line by the ever-grumbling engine and to-morrow at daybreak all +will be ready for us. Then we will go and some of us will be sorry, and +some of us will be glad. As for myself, all that I can say is “Adieu, +camp,” and if the place I am bound for, wherever it may be, holds the +charms that I’ve found here, I’ll be happy. + + + + +Monday: + + +The mere suggestion of troop movements has a thrill to it, and we have +had a lot of thrills to-day. + +[Illustration: I was alone in line] + +After a long period of restless waiting, and good-byes to every one and +everything about the old barracks, came the command to fall in. Then in +summer uniforms, and each with a big blue barracks bag crowded with +personal belongings, extra uniform, shoes, blanket and what not, on our +shoulders, we lined up, shouted last farewells and stepped off, down the +barracks street and out toward the railroad station. There was no +whistling nor singing for we were all very solemn, and I was lonesome, +for I was alone in line, the only member of our entire squad to go. + +We came upon other columns of fellows, coming from other companies, +bound with us for this Southern camp. On we marched to the terminal. +Here confusion reigned for a while, for hundreds of men in khaki were +scattered everywhere, all bending under blue duffel bags, and wondering +what was to happen next. + +But soon we were entrained, and then with locomotive whistles hooting, +and heads bobbing from every car window, we said farewell to The Camp. +And with the leave-taking our spirits seemed to rise, for there was +singing and whistling and horse play once more as the big cantonment +faded from view behind its fringe of pine woods. + +Our first impression was that we would travel all the way to Georgia in +the cars we had been assigned to, but, fortunately, this was not true, +for after a long and tedious trip we detrained again at a ferry terminal +in Brooklyn. Here, too, was confusion. It was late in the afternoon, and +we were hungry. Every candy stand, and handy store was patronized until +the officers interfered. Then came the big, old fashioned side-wheeled +ferries, and we were hustled aboard. + +Soon the old craft swung out into the river and with churning paddles we +headed down stream. + +It was just sunset. Far down the bay, beyond Governor’s Island and +Liberty, a great, fiery red disc was setting in a haze of smoke and mist +from the city, while to our right and left on the river banks, lights +began to twinkle, and overhead strings of diamonds draped each +gracefully arching bridge. Past the Navy Yard we swung, with cheers from +the crews of three destroyers in the river. Tugs and steamers and +passing sound night boats greeted us with whistles, and we lined the +rails and cheered back. + +Soon we churned under the last of the bridges and began to make our +tortoise-like way around the Battery. Lights were glimmering through the +violet haze that shrouded the mass of sky-touching buildings, and in the +foreground were hurrying throngs of men and women wending their way +through Battery Park toward the ferries. + +Up the North River, the skyline of the huge cities changed and grew more +impressive, as one building after another came out of the mass and stood +alone against the blue-black Eastern night sky. Ferries criss-crossing +in the darkness, leaving sparkling trails of light that danced on the +water, crowded close to us at times, and the mass of men and women +huddled on the windswept decks, cheered us on our way. Thus did we say +our last good-bye to the big city—and we said it solemnly and +thoughtfully, too, for many of us know that we are going on the long, +long journey and will never see that skyline again. + +The crowds in the terminal, as we hurried from ferry to the railroad +yard, cheered us, too, and men rushed out to shake hands with us and +crowded cigarettes and cigars into our pockets as we marched on. + +We had been told that the Red Cross would feed us. It did, to the extent +of a single sandwich and a cup of coffee, hastily snatched as we wended +our way through the railroad yard to the train. + +Long tourist sleepers are our lot. They stood on a siding, dimly lighted +with a single candle at either end of the car when we climbed into them +and were assigned to our seats. We are settled now, and rolling swiftly +across Jersey. Lights have been turned on, and the interior of the car +looks very strange with the big blue duffel bags swinging from every +hook and swaying as the train rounds each curve. But we are all very +quiet, and many of us are thinking. We are all homesick that is certain, +and hungry, too, and wondering about the future. + + + + +Tuesday: + + +We are rolling through Virginia into the sunset. + +For twenty hours we have been crowded into these cars, and we are +cramped and tired, but feeling happier with all. Two to a berth, we +tried to sleep last night. But sleep was impossible. I was up most of +the night, standing at the upper end of the car looking out the window, +while my new-found bunkie tried hard to get in a few winks. He wasn’t +successful. + +At midnight we ran through a little station called Brandy, and there in +a pounding rainstorm, under the light of a smoky, yellow oil lamp, stood +a solitary soldierly-looking figure, a boy, bare-footed and with head +uncovered and his rain-soaked cap held over his heart in a salute. He +alone had been watching for the troop train. + +Sometime after daylight, at Charlottesville, our train stopped for +water. All signs of the rain had cleared, hundreds of boys, black and +white, and men and women swarmed to the station to greet us. Our +canteens were passed out of the windows for water, and hot coffee and +thick sandwiches of home-made bread and jelly and delicious ham were +given to us by a committee of very old women who had been up since long +before daylight awaiting our arrival. Rations were served to us after we +pulled out of the station, consisting of bread and hard crackers, and a +can of tomatoes and a can of beans for every six men. + +By way of diversion we began to play poker for the beans, and a pair of +jacks left me breakfastless, except for the coffee and sandwich I was +fortunate enough to get at Charlottesville. And that is all I have had +since seven o’clock and it is now half-past four. + +At one station along the line, where we laid over for a few moments, +several fellows, acting as Sergeants, were sent out to buy food for our +company. But the train pulled out without them. Goodness knows where +they are now, but the saddest part of it is that they didn’t bring back +the eats. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +We are travelling through a land of gold and red and green, with huge +dabs of white marking the cotton fields. And we are hungry no longer. + +At Cornellia the train stopped for half an hour, and the fellows, all +but famished, made a wild rush for the door, and sweeping aside such +obstructions as angry Sergeants took the town by storm. About seven +hundred soldiers descended upon it, and bought everything in the eating +line that they could possibly find, even to whole cheeses, huge stalks +of bananas, and cases of honey. We ate, and we flooded the town with +money. Never has Cornellia seen such a busy half-hour in its history, +and never did the stores do such a tremendous business. + +We held up the troop train while we satisfied our appetites. But what of +it! We are happy now, with tight belts and plenty of cigarettes to +smoke, so why worry! + +Never in my life have I seen so many negroes. They swarm about the train +at every stop we make, chalk their initials on the cars (as every one +else has done) sing songs, cheer and just bubble over with enthusiasm. +Last night, while our train was on a siding, an old fellow somehow got +inside the car and did a wild buck and wing dance in the aisle for +pennies that were tossed from every bunk. And this morning another old +fellow, with a bag of cotton on his back, came a little too close to the +windows of the troop train. Eager hands seized the bag and pulled it +from his shoulders, and presently the cotton was being distributed among +the men as souvenirs. + +And now we are only twenty miles from Atlanta, and the fellows are +beginning to pack up their belongings. Some are trying hard to shave in +a crowded wash-room, for the long train ride has left us all appearing a +little the worse for wear and we want to enter our new home as +presentable as possible. + +I wonder what this new home will be like? Camp X is the cantonment and I +am told that it is bigger than the place we left, but if it is half as +pleasant we will be satisfied. + + THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Conscript 2989, by Irving Crump + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSCRIPT 2989 *** + +***** This file should be named 36832-0.txt or 36832-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/8/3/36832/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/36832-0.zip b/36832-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ad6401 --- /dev/null +++ b/36832-0.zip diff --git a/36832-h.zip b/36832-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a73bbbe --- /dev/null +++ b/36832-h.zip diff --git a/36832-h/36832-h.htm b/36832-h/36832-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba1fbb6 --- /dev/null +++ b/36832-h/36832-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4102 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="Conscript 2989" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Irving Crump" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1918" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (1.15) generated Jul 24, 2011 03:33 AM" /> + <title>Conscript 2989</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + hr.hr {border:none; border-bottom: 1px solid silver; margin: 20px auto; width:100%} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Conscript 2989, by Irving Crump + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Conscript 2989 + Experiences of a Drafted Man + +Author: Irving Crump + +Illustrator: H. B. Martin + +Release Date: July 24, 2011 [EBook #36832] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSCRIPT 2989 *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src="images/illus01.jpg" alt="I summoned “Local Board 163” in Court Martial proceedings" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>I summoned “Local Board 163” in Court Martial proceedings</span> +</div> +<hr class='hr' /> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>CONSCRIPT 2989</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-weight:bold;'>EXPERIENCES OF A DRAFTED MAN</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>ILLUSTRATED BY</p> +<p>H. B. MARTIN</p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src='images/illus02.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>NEW YORK</span></p> +<p>DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>1918</span></p> +</div> +<hr class='hr' /> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Service Flag Design on Cover Patented November 6, 1917</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Reproduced by Permission of Annin & Co., Flag Makers, New York</span></p> +</div> +<hr class='hr' /> +<div class='center'> +<p>TO</p> +<p>MY MOTHER AND FATHER</p> +</div> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +and every other Mother and Father, who spend hours +wondering about the welfare of their son, this book is +dedicated. And with it comes the assurance that life +in the big cantonment contains a full measure of real +happiness, and that all hardships are mitigated by a +sense of humor which develops even in the worst of +pessimists. We are contented, for to compensate for +the absence of you and all that you mean, comes the +knowledge that we are doing everything that brave men +and women, the world over, would have us do at times +like these. We are doing a man’s work and by the +token of the service flag in your window you should +know that the days of patched trousers, darned stocking, +of toy fire engines, play soldiers, and noisy drums, +were not spent in vain. +</p> +<hr class='hr' /> +<h1><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span>CONSCRIPT 2989</h1> +<h2>Thursday:</h2> +<p> +Once when I was an enthusiastic freshman +(it seems ages ago) I joined a Latin society +that had for its inspiration the phrase, <em>forsan +haec olim meminisse juvabit</em>. +</p> +<p> +All I can remember about the society is the +motto, and there is nothing particularly pleasant +about the recollection, either. But somehow +to-night that fool phrase comes back to me +and makes a pessimist of me right off. I wonder +how pleasant these things are going to be and +whether I will want to remember them hereafter. +Perhaps I won’t have much choice. I’ll +probably remember them whether I want to or +not. Already my first eight hours of active +service as Conscript 2989 have some sharp edges +sticking out which I am likely to remember, +though many of them are far from pleasant. +</p> +<p> +I am now truly a member of the army of the +great unwashed and unwashable—no, I take that +back. They are washable. I saw a grizzly old +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> +Sergeant herding four of them out to the washroom +this evening. Each of them carried a +formidable square of yellow soap and a most +unhappy expression. But the Sergeant looked +pleased with his detail. +</p> +<p> +Never in my wildest flights of fancy can I +picture some of these men as soldiers. Slavs, +Poles, Italians, Greeks, a sprinkling of Chinese +and Japs—Jews with expressionless faces, and +what not, are all about me. I’m in a barracks +with 270 of them, and so far I’ve found a half +dozen men who could speak English without an +accent. Is it possible to make soldiers of these +fellows? Well, if muscle and bone (principally +bone) is what is wanted for material, they have +got it here with a vengeance. But, then, from +the looks of things they have been doing wonders +and they may make creditable soldiers of +them at that. Goodness knows, they may even +make a soldier out of me, which would be a +miracle. Here’s hoping. +</p> +<h2>Friday:</h2> +<p> +I only need to glance back over the page I +wrote last night to see how I felt. This conscripting +must have gotten under my skin a +little deeper than I thought. I’ll admit I was +homesick, and I guess it made me a little testy. +I think I really should tear that page out and +begin over. It isn’t exactly fair, and, besides, +it doesn’t fulfil the function of a diary, anyway, +which, I take it, is a record of events and things—not +a criticism of everybody in general and +an opportunity to give vent to disagreeable +feelings. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src="images/illus03.jpg" alt="Never in my wildest flights of fancy can I picture some of these men as soldiers" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Never in my wildest flights of fancy can<br/>I picture some of these men as soldiers</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span></div> +<p> +From a “close-up” view yesterday may have +seemed like a trying day, but to-night it looks +a lot different and a lot more interesting. I +must confess that all the “good-byes,” and the +bands, and the weeping mothers and sweethearts, +and the handshakes, and the pompous +old turtles (who dodged the draft in the Civil +War or bought substitutes) who slapped you +on the back and told you how they wished they +were young again, along with the arrival of +the “Kaiser Kanners,” who unquestionably +were “kanners” of another variety, and the +parade and the Home Guard and the dozen +and one “Comfort Kits” that every one handed +you, and the mystery of what was to come, and +the scared look on every one’s face, including +my own, and the vacant feeling in the pit of +one’s stomach, superinduced by sandwiches +and coffee, fudge, oranges and chocolates in +lieu of a real meal, did get on my nerves. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i004' id='i004'></a> +<img src="images/illus04.jpg" alt="Every one of them had a fiendish grin on his face" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Every one of them had a fiendish grin on his face</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span></div> +<p> +But, hang it, when I look back we got a great +farewell, at that. And the local Board did +things up mighty well. I find myself possessed +of a razor, razor strop, wrist watch, two +pocket knives, unbreakable mirror, drinking +cup and a lot of other things that I never +expected to own or need. I haven’t the remotest +idea where many of them came from. +</p> +<p> +Then there was that long, almost never ending +train ride, which seemed to be taking me +on an unbearable distance from the place I +really felt I belonged. +</p> +<p> +And the arrival; all I saw when I tumbled off +the train were thousands of unpainted buildings +and millions of fellows in khaki, and every one +of them had a fiendish grin on his face as he +shouted: “Oh, you rookey. Wait, just wait; +you’ll get yours! When they bring on the +needle. Oh, the needle.” +</p> +<p> +I had a vague idea of what the “needle” +might be, but it wasn’t pleasant to hear about +it from every one I met. But I guess there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +were a lot of fellows who were not quite +certain what this threatening “needle” was. +Foolishly two of them asked one of the Sergeants +who met us at the train and what they +heard in reply to their queries made them paler +than they were before, if that were possible. +Thereafter, for the rest of the afternoon and +evening, the “needle” was the subject of +earnest conversation among us all, and the +doubts and misgivings about that instrument +of torture, coupled with a thoroughly good case +of homesickness on the part of every one of us +helped to make a pleasant (?) evening. And +that most of us worried until far into the night +is certain. I know I did, and the Italian on +my left cried himself to sleep, and didn’t try +to hide his unhappiness either. Oh, it was a +delightful evening, all things considered. +</p> +<p> +Forty-seven of us, all from my own district, +came down together, and while we remained in +one group there was a measure of consolation +to be had for us all. But our hopes that we +would stay together at camp were dashed +immediately we got off the train. In fact we +were so thoroughly split up that I managed to +get into a squad composed entirely of foreigners, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +I’m still with them. But the +prospects of a change are excellent. +</p> +<p> +Quite as docile as sheep, and just as ignorant, +we were marched down one camp street +after another. My friends of foreign extraction, +with due regard for anything that looked +like a uniform, saluted every one that passed, +and they were tolerably busy until we were +halted outside of our present abode, a big two-story, +unpainted barracks building. +</p> +<p> +Here mess kits were served to each of us, and +though we did not know the combination that +unlocked the mysterious looking things, we +were glad to get them, because they added so +much to the dozen and one things we were +already carrying. Then, completely smothering +us, came two tremendous horse blankets +and a comforter. Those comforters were +everything their name implies. Not only did +they afford warmth, but amusement as well. +They ranged in shades from baby blue and +pink to cerise and lavender, and some one with +a sense of humour must have distributed them. +The stout, pudgy, black-haired Italian to my +left reposes under the voluminous folds of a +beautiful pink creation, and across the room +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> +sits a huge Irishman, with hands as big as +hams and shoulders of a giant, with a baby +blue comforter wrapped about him. Mine is +a bewitching old rose. But, believe me, it’s +there with the quality if it isn’t much on looks. +I found that out last night. +</p> +<p> +Then, after the Sergeant showed us where we bunked and where we could +expect to find something to eat about supper time, every one left us +severely alone, which was mostly what we wanted, because we all had a +lot on our mind between homesickness and that blessed “needle.” But +there was some work to do, such as stuffing mattresses with hay, +sweeping out the barracks and similar occupations until bed time. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i005' id='i005'></a> +<img src="images/illus05.jpg" alt="A baby blue comforter wrapped about him." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>A baby blue comforter wrapped about him.</span> +</div> +<p> +Some one, who had evidently heard some +weird tales about the punishment meted out to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +those who overslept at camp, brought an alarm +clock along with him, and the blooming thing +went off at 4 <span style='font-size:smaller;'>A.M.</span> Of course we got up, +switched the lights on over head, and proceeded +to get dressed with that resigned now-what-are-you-going-to-do-with-us +air. +</p> +<p> +But dressing was interrupted by a string of +the most beautiful cusses I ever heard, coming +downstairs just in advance of a mighty mad +looking Sergeant: +</p> +<p> +“Who in —— tarnation bow-wows has got +that —— alarm clock? Pitch it out the —— +window, and git back to bed.” +</p> +<p> +It went and we went. But that’s as far as +we could go. Thoughts of the “needle” and +other forms of torture which we were to face in +a few short hours kept most of us awake until +a quarter after five, when every officer in camp +began to blow letter-carrier whistles. Then we +all got up and were introduced to some physical +exercises guaranteed to stretch every muscle in +our makeup. I took a cold shower bath after +mine, and was the object of interest of the +entire barracks. Great stuff (I mean the +shower). +</p> +<p> +Most of us might have been tolerably happy +after that, if it hadn’t been for the fact that +every man in uniform made some evil suggestion +about the “needle.” And when they +saw us all, white and corpsey looking and more +or less unsteady on our legs, line up in front of +the barracks and march off under our Second +Lieutenant, the groans and sorry faces they +feigned were enough to make one’s blood run +cold. And then we got the “needle.” +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i006' id='i006'></a> +<img src="images/illus06.jpg" alt="An alarm clock went off at 4 A.M." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>An alarm clock went off at 4 A.M.</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span></div> +<p> +I, for one, was disappointed, and so were +most of the rest of us. But there were a few +who didn’t give themselves a chance to be disappointed. +They promptly fainted: not because +of the injection but because of the state +of their nerves which they all admitted afterward. +There were a few things about the +examination calculated to scare a man to death +such as the question: “In case you are shot +and killed to whom do you wish six months’ +pay to be sent?” Many of us stammered a +bit before answering. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i007' id='i007'></a> +<img src="images/illus07.jpg" alt="Jabbed at the iodine mark and pulled the trigger" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Jabbed at the iodine mark and pulled the trigger</span> +</div> +<p> +After that we stripped, lined up and started +on our way. Then measured, marked and +finger-printed, we arrived before a physician +who stamped a quarter section under the left +shoulder blade with a sponge covered with +iodine, while another one scratched the skin on +our upper arm to mark the acreage to be covered +by a vaccination. We moved on to two +more physicians, and while one dug a hunk out +of our arm and inserted vaccine in place of the +skin removed, the other man, with a villainously +long hypodermic, jabbed at the iodine mark and +pulled the trigger. And now, by George, if +any one else around here tries to kid me into +worrying about anything at all, I’m going to +talk back proper. They sure had me scared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +stiff and I’ll admit it. Why, hang it, I +would rather have had typhoid than face +that “needle” before I really knew what it +amounted to. But here I am, with germs +variously estimated at from 15,000 to 250,000 +circulating around inside of me, due to said +“needle,” and aside from a little wooziness in +the head, and a sore shoulder, I’m quite contented +and ready to turn in. Good-night. +</p> +<h2>Saturday:</h2> +<p> +The serum injections of yesterday produced +some queer, and in one case unfortunate, results. +Last night after taps were sounded and lights +were out, I lay awake a long time in spite of +the fact I was very tired. +</p> +<p> +Couldn’t understand it, and my arm and back +were as sore as could be. Hour after hour +wore on, and I couldn’t get to sleep. Some +did, however, and I had a regular frog’s chorus +of snores to keep me company. I became a +veritable specialist in snores and wheezes and +grunts. Every time I heard a new variety I +formed mental pictures of the men who probably +made them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +</p> +<p> +Then the chorus was interrupted by some +one not far from me who called out mournfully: +“Oh, my back, my back! The needle!” +Then in sharper tones: “Count off. 1-2-3-4.” +I wondered what horrors his overwrought +nerves were causing him to dream of. +</p> +<p> +But when I did get to sleep I slept soundly, +certainly, for they told me this morning that +one chap had become seriously ill, and had been +carried from the barracks to an ambulance and +whisked away to the hospital sometime during +the small hours of the morning. It seems that +he had an excess of germs circulating around +inside of him, due to the fact that he did not +know enough to move on after the doctor had +given him the first injection, and the physician, +looking only for the nearest iodine spot, shot +him twice in the same place. +</p> +<p> +However, I am reasonably certain I’ll sleep +to-night all right, for I’ve been pulling stumps +all day, or rather during the time I wasn’t +learning to recognize my right foot from my +left, and a few other things that every man +thinks he knows until some one takes the pains +to expose his ignorance. Oh, I have the qualities +of a really capable soldier in me—if some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +one can find them. As an infantryman I’m a +much better stump puller. I proved that this +afternoon. I have a beautiful double handful +of blisters, not to mention a ruined suit of +clothes and hopeless shoes, to my credit in this +war of exterminating the Hun. I hope we get +uniforms soon, because if we don’t, I’ll be going +about clad in my old rose comforter and some +summer underclothes. +</p> +<p> +Stump pulling is rough on clothes, but it +certainly is an appetite builder. I’ve discovered +already that it is good policy to be +among the first on line with a mess kit, then +if you can bolt your beef a-la-mode fast enough, +and get outside and wash up your kit, you stand +a good chance of joining the last of the line, +thereby getting a second helping. Indeed, +several fellows have it down to such a science +already, that they get three helpings before the +cook begins to say things. +</p> +<p> +The barracks is beginning to look picturesque. +The atmosphere of a western +mining camp, arranged for stage purposes, +prevails. The Italians, swarthy-faced, heavy-featured +fellows, for the most part, gather in +little groups, smoke villainous pipes and play +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +cards incessantly, whenever they are allowed +much time in the barracks. Our Semitic +friends linger in the vicinity of the door that +leads to the mess hall and kitchen, especially +about meal time. And their mess kits are +always handy. Nicknames have already become +common, and we have among us such +worthies as Fat, Doc, Peck’s Bad Boy, Toney, +Binkie, Shortie, Shrimp, Simp and Pop. The +last name has been applied to me, inspired, no +doubt, by the suggestion of baldness aloft. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i008' id='i008'></a> +<img src="images/illus08.jpg" alt="Italians gather in little groups" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Italians gather in little groups</span> +</div> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span>Sunday:</h2> +<p> +Didn’t sleep much last night, for some +reason. Think I was too tired. This is the +third night I’ve lost time. Beginning to feel +it now. But no one else seemed to sleep well +either, or at least they didn’t go to sleep right +off. Lights out at ten and all supposed to +be “tucked in.” Then came various remarks +from the darkness; choice, unprintable remarks +about the Kaiser, the Government, the Sergeant, +certain Corporals, who doubtless heard +all their well-wishers had to say, but could not +identify the speakers. Indeed, it struck me that +the fellows had hit upon a choice way of telling +certain non-coms what they thought of them, +without the possibility of getting in bad. Then +arguments started in the darkness, and the +vocal combatants were urged on by catcalls and +encouraging yells from various sections of the +unlighted room, and presently shoes started +flying. +</p> +<p> +About that time the Top Sergeant upstairs +woke up, and decided to investigate. Silence +fell in the big room when the stairs, creaking +under his weight, gave warning that the crusty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +old veteran of fifteen years’ service with the +Regulars was on his way down. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i009' id='i009'></a> +<img src="images/illus09.jpg" alt="The Top Sergeant made the round of the cots" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>The Top Sergeant made the round of the cots</span> +</div> +<p> +The door opened and a pocket flashlight +began to travel from cot to cot. But strangely +enough every one was slumbering contentedly, +and some even snoring. The Top Sergeant +made the round of the cots, reached the door +and “doused his glim.” +</p> +<p> +Then with a most impressive introduction of +profanity he remarked that “The next ——, ——, son-of-a-bandmaster, +who started anything would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +spend the rest of the night out on +the porch in his underclothes,” whereupon +some wag from the darkness replied: “Put t’ +Kaiser out there, he started it.” While others +sweetly remarked: “Good-night Ser<em>geant</em>.” +“Pleasant dreams, dear.” “Come kiss me +good-night.” and “Don’t forget to tuck us +all in.” +</p> +<p> +But things eventually subsided and I dozed +off, only to be awakened later by some one +kissing me on the cheek. It was startling to +say the least, and I sat up. I thought perhaps +the Sergeant had come back to say good-night. +Then it happened again, only this time on my +hand, and I heard an eager little whine, and a +sniff-sniff-sniffing that told me plainly a dog +was beside my cot. +</p> +<p> +I chirped encouragingly and up he came. +Then he dived between the blankets and burrowing +deep worked his way down to the foot +of my cot. Evidently he had slept in army cots +before. All my efforts to dislodge him were +futile and I knew that unless I got up and unmade +my bed he would not come out. So I left +him, and he in gratitude kept my feet warm. +</p> +<p> +This morning he appeared at reveille, waking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +me up with his frantic efforts to dig himself to +light again and kissing me good-morning, by +way of showing his appreciation. He was just +a plain yellow dog, with a lop ear and a habit +of wagging all over when he could not get +enough expression in his stump of a tail. +Attached to a strap that he wore in place of +a collar was a tag on which was scrawled: +“Presented to Local Board No. 163—Hold the +fort for we are coming.” I concluded that if +they held onto the fort, when they arrived, as +well as they held onto their dog it wasn’t +worth while having them come at all. +</p> +<p> +“Local Board No. 163” stood guard on the +foot of my bed, or rather, sat guard, until I +got dressed, and although he created no end of +interest among the rest of the fellows in the +room, who whistled and called to him, he refused +to leave his new-found “bunkie.” He +just sat tight. He even stayed when I got up +to go, but he looked at me with a most reproachful +air, as if to say, “I think a lot of you even +though you do want to leave me.” +</p> +<p> +He remained after every one had left the +room and when I returned an hour later to get +my mess kit for breakfast, he was still there. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +</p> +<p> +But the rattle of mess tins must have suggested +something to him for when I got up to +go this time he was right beside me, and he +even braved the crush at the mess-hall door to +stick near me. +</p> +<p> +That dog never had so much to eat in all his +young life as he got for breakfast that morning. +First he visited our Japanese cook, who liked +him and proved it by giving him a piece of meat. +Then he visited the kitchen police, who found +something for him, after which he made the +rounds of the mess tables, coming back to me +actually bloated with food. He looked up at +me and I’ll swear he grinned and tried to say: +“This is the life—eh, Ol’ Top?” +</p> +<p> +“Local Board No. 163” has already become +a favourite, but with all his petting from his +many well-wishers, he seems to want to call me +Boss. He’s on the cot beside me now as I +write, snoring with disgusting impoliteness, but +I guess, being just a plain yellow dog, he don’t +know any better. +</p> +<p> +This has been a day of visitors, and little +work. Early this morning they began to +arrive. I never saw so many motor cars anywhere, +except at football games, or the races. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +And girls; thousands of them, and pretty, too. +But shucks, I’m outclassed. In fact I began to +feel like my dog to-day. I’ll admit it was +pretty soft for the fellows who had uniforms, +but for the poor tramps like myself, who still +wear their civilian clothes (or what is left of +them, which isn’t very much all told) it was +sort of a lonesome day. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i010' id='i010'></a> +<img src="images/illus10.jpg" alt="Pretty soft for the fellows who had uniforms" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Pretty soft for the fellows who had uniforms</span> +</div> +<p> +Then there were the lucky fellows who had +passes to leave camp. They looked fine, tramping +down the road toward the station. Of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +course they were all uniformed; they are not +allowed to leave camp unless they are. +</p> +<p> +But “Local Board No. 163” and I take consolation +in the fact that perhaps next Sunday +we will be all spick and span in a nice new uniform, +and then we’ll strike for a pass, too, and +go home and swagger about a bit ourselves. +</p> +<p> +Feeling delightfully tired and sleepy; and I +know I’ll “press some of the creases out o’ my +blankets” to-night. This place seems almost +comfortable and homelike now, and the men—well +I’ve changed my original opinion of them +considerably. They all (or most of them) have +their hearts in the right place, and there aren’t +so many muckers as I thought there might be. +In fact I’m beginning to like things mighty +well; really enjoying myself. Only, hang it, +I think I’m getting a good case of hives. +Haven’t been afflicted thus for about five years. +If they keep up I’ll report to the hospital +shortly. “Come on ‘Local Board No. 163’ +we’ll turn in.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span>Monday:</h2> +<p> +Several things of importance happened to-day. +For one thing we got some clothes. I +say <em>some</em> clothes advisedly, for I’m not all +clothed yet, being minus such important articles +as an undershirt, socks and shoes. But +those I brought from home, though sanctified +and made holey by arduous labours in other +fields, will do for the present. I possess a pair +of winter breeches and a summer coat, but what +matters that. It is sufficient to know that they +fit, which is not the case in several instances, +notably in that of friends Fat and Shrimp, who, +I have learned, were not optimistic from the +first about being fitted properly. It seems that +from years of experience they have both +learned never to expect to be fitted anywhere, +anyhow. Fat’s shirt covers him with an effort, +but that is all. He can’t find a shoehorn with +which to get into his breeches. As for Shrimp: +his belt is pulled tight about his chest and the +sleeves of his tunic are rolled up to where his +elbows should be, only to disclose the tips of +his fingers. +</p> +<p> +But I must confess to a grave error right +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +here. It startled me this evening at retreat. +Indeed, several things startled me this evening +at retreat, including my fast developing case +of hives. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i011' id='i011'></a> +<img src="images/illus11.jpg" alt="His belt is pulled tight about his chest" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>His belt is pulled tight about his chest</span> +</div> +<p> +A few days ago I made some rather boorish +and very sarcastic remarks about the possibilities +of ever making soldiers out of the men +I found myself among. I humbly take it all +back and eat mud by way of apology. Khaki, +a campaign hat and a shave, together with a +certain amount of training in how to stand up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +straight and step off correctly, have made a vast +difference. Why, hang it, I’m mighty proud to +belong to this company. Jews, Italians, Poles, +etc., all look like fighters; act like fighters; and +a lot of them are fighters, too. Why they are +soldiers already, and glad of it. Which leads +me to state quite modestly +the surprising fact that I +think I am nearly a soldier, +too, and gol-dinged +set up about it. Honestly +we looked fine this evening. +What if there were +a few misfits? A process +of barter and exchange +has already eliminated a +great deal of that (save +in the cases of Fat and +Shrimp, who have gone back to civilian clothes +until special uniforms are built for them) and +when we lined up and snapped to attention +while the band over on Tower Hill played “The +Star Spangled Banner” and the old flag came +slowly down, we looked like real soldiers every +inch. We knew it, too, and I’ll bet there wasn’t +a prouder company in the entire camp. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i012' id='i012'></a> +<img src="images/illus12.jpg" alt="Back to civilian clothes until a special uniform is built" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Back to civilian clothes until a special uniform is built</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span></div> +<p> +Of course, I had to gum up the ceremony. +But I guess I’ll pay for it to-morrow. Here’s +how it happened: +</p> +<p> +We’ve been drilling, drilling, drilling, all day +to-day, drilling with a vengeance, and now we +can do squads right and right front into line +with as much pep and vigour as a company of +Regulars. Our Sergeant said so, which is some +admission for the old moss-back to make. Of +course, we were tired. I was about ready to +drop in my tracks when five o’clock came, which +is time for evening parade or retreat; a very +impressive ceremony by the way. My hives +had been bothering me all day, and every time +we were at ease, I got in some likely scratches +in itchy places. +</p> +<p> +One beautiful lump developed right under my +arm just at five o’clock. Holy smokes, how it +did itch! It was just as if something had +staked an oil claim right there and wasn’t +losing any time about drilling a well. Of +course, standing at attention a chap can’t +scratch, at least he’s not supposed to—but I +did. I tried to show extreme fortitude. I +stood and stood and stood, and the darned +thing kept boring and boring and boring. Then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +when the Lieutenants had their backs turned +and stood at salute while the flag came down, I +took a chance and scratched. +</p> +<p> +That First Lieutenant of ours either has eyes in the back of his head or +else the Sergeant is a tattletale. Anyhow, after the ceremonies and +before we were dismissed, I was commanded to step out, whereupon I was +given a most beautiful call down, after which I said, “thank you, sir” +to a detail as kitchen police, for the next week to come starting +to-morrow. +</p> +<p> +When I got back here to my barracks the first thing I did was to peel +off my shirt and look for that hive. I caught him. And then the whole +terrible plot to get me detailed as kitchen policeman was revealed. +“Local Board No. 163” has fleas; or, rather, he had ’em. I’ve got ’em +now—no, wrong again. I got rid of them, or I hope I did. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i013' id='i013'></a> +<img src="images/illus13.jpg" alt="I picked him up in one hand and a cake of yellow soap in the other." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>I picked him up in one hand and a<br/>cake of yellow soap in the other.</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span></div> +<p> +Upon making the hideous discovery, I summoned +“Local Board No. 163” in court martial +proceedings. He was guilty; I could see it by +the way his spirit sagged in the middle when I +began to cross-question him. I picked him up +in one hand and a cake of yellow soap and a +towel in the other, and we proceeded toward the +shower baths. Bur-r-r-r but that water was +cold. “Local Board No. 163” didn’t enjoy it +either, but I could with justice assure him that +this form of punishment hurt me as much as it +did him, and what is more I am likely to suffer +a heap worse to-morrow. +</p> +<p> +“Local Board No. 163,” you sleep <em>under</em> the +bed to-night. +</p> +<h2>Tuesday:</h2> +<p> +Too blasted tired to write to-night. I did a +whole winter’s work this morning. Shovelled +nine tons (almost) of coal into the coal bin, as +a starter. Then peeled a sack of potatoes, +scrubbed an acre of floor and a half-acre of +table tops and benches, washed twenty ash cans, +and other kitchen utensils and—oh, I’m too +tired now, think I’ll wait until to-morrow. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span></div> +<p> +“Local Board No. 163” sleeps <em>out on the porch</em> to-night. +</p> +<h2>Wednesday:</h2> +<p> +Still kitchen policing. Yesterday I thought +I had pulled some job when I peeled an ash can +full of potatoes, but that was nothing. To-day +I got a better one. I had to peel the same +amount of potatoes, only they were in a washboiler +this time. Yes, right off the fire. I +can’t see why the Government has to serve +potatoes with the jackets off anyway. Why +don’t they let the men peel them? They are +just as well able to do it as we are. If some +one ever wants to invent a choice way of punishing +refractory prisoners in jail I suggest +they send said refractors into the kitchen and +give them the gentle job of peeling hot potatoes, +by the washboilerful. +</p> +<p> +I have a side partner on the kitchen police. +His name is O’Flynn and he runs into even +better luck than I do. To-day he shared the +job of peeling “hot ones” with me. Yesterday +while I had the little task of peeling ’em raw, +he was handed the nice detail of attending to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +twelve pounds of onions; a tearful occasion, +until some one with a conscience suggested that +he get a bucket of water and peel them under +water. O’Flynn got the water, with the remark +that if he waited just a little longer the +onion pan would have been full of tears, +which he assumed would have served just as +well. +</p> +<p> +O’Flynn is kitchen policing because he tried +to come into the barracks after taps. Lights +out at ten and O’Flynn arrived about 2 <span style='font-size:smaller;'>G.M.</span> +He avoided the fire-guard successfully and went +around to the back of the barracks. There he +jimmied a window with his pocket knife and got +it opened, only to have it fall on his neck when +he was about half-way in. By way of exercise +he put his elbow through it. Then to add to +the situation he found himself in the darkened +mess hall instead of the dormitory, and the +noise he made when he knocked over several +benches naturally grated on the Sergeant’s +nerves. Said Sergeant arrived in the hall in +his union suit about the time O’Flynn had +untangled himself, and, after cussing him out to +perfection, he handed the Irishman a week at +kitchen policing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +</p> +<p> +“And now,” said O’Flynn, “t’ next time I come +in through t’ windey, I’ll stay out.” +</p> +<p> +A week of this and I’ll be able to qualify as +a first rate housekeeper for a lumber camp. +Already I can lay down a few very necessary +rules which the average housewife will appreciate, +as for instance:— +</p> +<p> +1. Never take it for granted that a man has +only one appetite. We have two hundred and +seventy men here, but they carry around an +aggregate of six hundred appetites. +</p> +<p> +2. Never plunge your hands into an ash can +full of greasy water without first removing +your wrist watch. +</p> +<p> +3. Never attempt to mop up after your men +folk. Just turn the hose on, lash the nozzle to +a convenient table leg and walk away and forget +about it. +</p> +<p> +4. In carrying out a pan full of hot ashes +never grab the handle. Thrust a stick through +it, it saves the temper and the floor. +</p> +<p> +5. Never let any one kid you into trying to +take the black off the kitchen pans with sapolio, +rather throw the pans away. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i014' id='i014'></a> +<img src="images/illus14.jpg" alt="Never let anyone kid you into trying to take the black off the kitchen pans" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Never let anyone kid you into trying to<br/>take the black off the kitchen pans</span> +</div> +<p> +Delightfully brief and entertaining job, that +of removing the black from ash cans that are +used to cook soup in. Our Mess Sergeant, the +pirate, noticed that for about three seconds +during this afternoon I wasn’t doing anything +in particular, so he gave me a cake of sapolio +and a mop and told me to get busy and shine +up the outside of the pots and pans and get all +the black off. I went to it and stuck—until our +Jap cook, the slant-eyed angel, came in about +two hours later and told me the honourable ash +cans always got blacked up again so what’s the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +use; and anyhow he wanted to use the mop. I +almost kissed him. +</p> +<p> +Thank goodness the coal shovelling is all over +with. Finished it yesterday. To-day during +my moments of leisure I split a few cords of +kindling wood and carried it into the kitchen, +but I like splitting wood better than heaving +coal when it comes to making a choice. +</p> +<p> +I’ve been very popular with “Local Board +No. 163,” since I’ve been in the kitchen. +Honestly, if that dog had intelligence enough, +I could almost believe that he induced that flea +to start this dirty work, for he’s the only one +in the whole company who has benefited by it. +He hangs around the galley all the time and is +waxing fat, prosperous and greasy; greasy because +he got in the way of some dishwater that +was being emptied out the back door. And +now I’ll have to give him another scrubbing +before we turn in, or he’ll be crawling in +under my blankets again. +</p> +<p> +Strange I haven’t received any letters yet. +Some chaps are lucky. Letters seem to make +a big difference in things, even if it’s only +listening in on some other fellow’s. Every +one reads letters out loud so that we can all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +enjoy them, for letters, no matter whom they +are from, are real events here and one always +gets a sinking feeling when he discovers there +aren’t any for him. +</p> +<h2>Thursday:</h2> +<p> +Real luck at last. No more kitchen policing, +thank goodness. It all happened thus: +</p> +<p> +About the time we had cleaned up the +remains of breakfast and I was getting ready +to turn out for “settin’ ups,” along comes the +Captain with two Lieutenants in tow, all with +official looking papers. We lined up and he +looked us all over very critically. Then he +read: +</p> +<p> +“Any members of this company qualified to +fill the following positions, step one pace,” and +a list of occupations followed that included +everything from barber to horse trainer and +stage carpenter. Quite a few of us stepped +out. About ten of the Italian contingent responded +at the word barber. Fat came forward +as stage carpenter, and when he said +artist I stepped three paces forward instead +of one and, saluting, handed him my +recommendation for the Camouflage Corps. I knew +I wasn’t doing quite the proper thing. But +you see we were all young and innocent of such +things as military courtesy, and the Captain +overlooked the fact that one pace didn’t mean +three, and after he had mentally debated the +question of calling me down in front of the +company and had given me the benefit of inexperience, +he read the recommendation. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i015' id='i015'></a> +<img src="images/illus15.jpg" alt="Fat was looking for the same barracks" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Fat was looking for the same barracks</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span></div> +<p> +The result was that I was ordered to report +immediately to the 2-6 Company, 5-2 Depot +Battalion. And with visions of avoiding physical +exercises for about two hours and the preparing +of a midday meal, I needed no urging. +I gathered up my bed, hay mattress, blankets +and all and proceeded to find the barracks of +the 2-6 Company, 5-2 Depot Battalion. +</p> +<p> +Of course, it had to be located at the other +end of the twenty-four square miles of reservation. +But I had company. Fat, loaded down +like a dromedary under bed, blankets, a suitcase +and all, was looking for the same barracks. +So we started on our wanderings together, +hopeful of finding our new home before dinner +was served. +</p> +<p> +We found it. And we found a lot of other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +fellows looking for the same home. It seems +this Depot Battalion, of which I am now a part, +is composed entirely of specialists, lawyers, +linguists, engineers, artists, architects, carpenters +and what not, and just about the time +we were being transferred, other specialists +were being selected from other companies and +sent on their way to the Headquarters Divisions +of the various regiments. So our corner +of the camp has been quite popular all day, +with men staggering in under loads of personal +belongings like a lot of gipsies looking +for new places to hang their O.D’s. +</p> +<p> +We, I mean Fat and myself, are among a +different class of fellows now and this moving +business has changed my opinion of the camp. +From a hit or miss proposition as it first appeared, +it has become a very systematic and +well-organized cantonment. It is being worked +out like a gigantic piece of machinery and there +isn’t any question in my mind now but that we +will all, sooner or later, fit into the places where +we will be able to serve the Government best. +Here I have been trying for months to discover +how I can get into the Camouflage Corps, which +so far as I could learn was a mythical organization +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +which no one knew very much about. +Meanwhile, I have been hoping to keep out of +the draft army for fear of being side-tracked +and given a bayonet, +instead of a +paint brush, to +beat the Huns +with. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i016' id='i016'></a> +<img src="images/illus16.jpg" alt="Material for the camouflage unit" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Material for the camouflage unit</span> +</div> +<p> +And here I am conscripted, and inside of a week singled out as material +for the Camouflage unit, with a nice place waiting for me to stay until +said unit needs me. They are doing it up in really businesslike fashion +and no doubting it. +</p> +<p> +But in the shuffle I’ve lost my dog. He’s +only been with me a few days and he’s done +nothing but get me into trouble all the time, +yet I miss the little beggar. He wasn’t about +when I gathered up my belongings this morning, +and I haven’t had time to look him up all +day. Perhaps, before taps I’ll wander down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +to the other barracks and see if I can find +him. +</p> +<h2>Friday:</h2> +<p> +Real work began in earnest here this morning, +for the officers in command of the various +companies of the Headquarters Divisions, or +Depot Battalions, or whatever it is these particular +departments are called, are determined +to rush our drill instructions as fast as possible, +because there is no telling when any one +or any number of us will be needed somewhere +else in the U. S. A. or in France, all of which +sounds promising for a quick change. I’m +willing, and I sure hope it’s France. +</p> +<p> +Our day is just filled full of hay-footing and +straw-footing and squads righting and all that +sort of thing. I am learning things gradually +by dint of much cussing on the part of our +Sergeant, who is also late of the Regular, and +who certainly has as choice a vocabulary as +our former drillmaster. +</p> +<p> +We must have a very capable Mess Sergeant +in this barracks, for the meals here are mighty +good; better than those we received in the other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +barracks. We actually had ice cream and tea +this noon, a thing unheard of in most of the +barracks. +</p> +<p> +And our cook is a wonder. He’s an old +cockney sea-dog, who looks like a regular buccaneer, +and he has a parrot, too, whom he calls +Jock. Jock spends most +of his time sitting on the +edge of the coal bin +shrieking “Lazy Pig.” +But neither Jock nor +his master has a sense +of humour; the cook +gets mad when he finds +a man trying to ring in +a third helping and +when he gets mad, Jock +screams: “Lazy pig, +lazy pig,” and dances +up and down in a +frenzy. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i017' id='i017'></a> +<img src="images/illus17.jpg" alt="Our cook looked like a regular buccaneer." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Our cook looked like a regular buccaneer.</span> +</div> +<p> +I went back to the old barracks last night, to +find the place almost filled with new men, all +worried looking and pale, and much disturbed +over that first night horror, the +“needle.” I didn’t relieve their mental +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +anguish a particle, which was most unchristian-like. +</p> +<p> +Several of the men remaining from the +former company told me that most of the original +company had been split up between the +“Suicide Club” which is the machine gun companies, +the transportation division and the +infantry. As for “Local Board No. 163” no +one had seen him about. Possibly he has become +disgusted with high-toned individuals who +object to fleas, and has gone off and joined the +infantry. Well I wish him luck. +</p> +<p> +I really believe I’m taking a very deep interest +in this soldiering after all. I didn’t +think I would at first, but now I find I’m watching +the colour of my hat cord with interest. I +want to see it lose its newness and get faded-out +looking, like a regular soldier’s hat cord. +</p> +<h2>Saturday:</h2> +<p> +On the camp calendar, to-day is marked down +as a half-holiday, which is another one of the +pleasant little jokes they have down here. It +is a half-holiday. We quit drilling at twelve +o’clock. But there is a Sunday ceremony they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +have called inspection and sometimes when the +Lieutenant wants to leave camp early on Sunday +he decides to hold inspection on Saturday +afternoon. +</p> +<p> +About twelve o’clock some one reminds some +one else that the aforementioned ceremony is +on the program of weekly events, and thereby +spoils the whole pleasure for the day. At +inspection the Lieutenant saunters through the +barracks, inspects the beds and the stacks of +underclothing, socks and similar equipment +piled thereon, and if said underclothing, etc., do +not show signs of recent acquaintance with +soap and water, almost anything is likely to +happen. +</p> +<p> +And, of course, since no one is systematic +about doing washing, all the dirty clothing and +extra socks pile up until Saturday, and then on +the half-holiday the scrubbing tables in the rear +of the barracks are the most popular playgrounds. +</p> +<p> +The washing process is interesting. Every +one lines up and dips into the same basin of +water. Government soap is supplied in quantities, +so are the scrubbing brushes. One lays +his jeans and undershirt out nice and smooth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +on a long table, pours a basin of water over +them, applies the soap as if it were a holy-stone +until the underclothing is covered with a +soft yellow scum. And then he spends the rest +of the afternoon trying to get the soap off. +The more lather a chap makes the better +washerman he is, from all appearances. +</p> +<p> +The rear of the barracks on a Saturday afternoon +looks like a string of tenement house backyards, +with flapping garments hanging from +everything, including the electric light wires, +and men in various degrees of attirement stand +around waiting for the garments to get dry. Oh, +you daren’t leave them and go off on some other +mission while the wind does its duty. You +simply have to stick and keep a careful eye on +everything you own, otherwise:—well it works +on the principle that the man who grabs the +most is the best-dressed man for the following +week, and if you are not there to prove ownership +you are liable to find a pocket handkerchief +where your undershirt was and the +handkerchief isn’t always what it was originally +intended to be. +</p> +<p> +I did manage to get my wash done and gathered +up in time to see the last ten minutes of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +a Gaelic football game over on the parade +grounds. But next week I’m going to take the +advice of the Sergeant who suggests that I +follow the example of Regular Army men and +wash each piece as it becomes soiled. I wonder +if I am systematic enough for that? +</p> +<h2>Sunday:</h2> +<p> +No I didn’t draw a pass. I’ve been around +camp the whole bloomin’ day, but there were +about fifteen thousand lucky fellows who did +draw passes. I saw them going down in +groups for every train to the city since four +o’clock yesterday afternoon. But Fat and I +seem to be a bit unlucky. Poor Fat, he has +wanted a pass to get home and see his mother +ever since he has been here. But a pass +wouldn’t do him much good. He hasn’t any +uniform yet. Still waiting for the army tailors +to get busy. I wouldn’t be surprised if they +shipped him to France with no more Government +property than a khaki shirt. We’ve been +consoling each other most of the day. Fat’s a +good chap and a mighty likeable fellow. +</p> +<p> +It has been a day of rest, however, for all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +except Giuseppi, the company’s barber. He +has done a tremendous business; shaved every +one, from the Captain down. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i018' id='i018'></a> +<img src="images/illus18.jpg" alt="Giuseppi’s methods are unique and interesting" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Giuseppi’s methods are unique and interesting</span> +</div> +<p> +Giuseppi’s methods are unique and interesting. +Somewhere he found two planks, which +he brought into the dormitory, and, by catching +the lower ends under the iron work of one cot +and propping them against the side of another, +he contrived an affair that resembles remotely +a steamer chair. Line forms to the right. +Bring your own brush and shaving stick and do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +your own lathering for a quick and effective +shave. +</p> +<p> +I can’t guess how many he shaved. The line +stretched the length of the dormitory from +breakfast to dinner time. The men dabbed +their brush into a single basin of cold water +and moistened their faces while standing in +line. Then as they moved on they soaped and +lathered their own faces and rubbed it in thoroughly. +And by the time they reached the +plank their bristles needed only a final application +of lather and Giuseppi got busy with +the razor. +</p> +<p> +He is a wonder. All he did this morning +was strop and shave, strop and shave, and +at ten cents a head—no I mean face—(twenty +cents a head, only no hair cut on Sunday) I +guess he made a fair week’s wages. As each +victim left the planks, said victim wiped the +remaining lather from his face, ears and nose +and applied his own talcum powder. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps Giuseppi’s business was increased +by his announcement: “No shava for tree +days now. To-morrow I getta da needle +for twice times. No can use my arm vara +moch.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +</p> +<p> +Which reminds me that I am scheduled for +my second inoculation to-morrow. +</p> +<p> +I have been discovering some of the unknown +who are in our midst. Unearthed a +popular song writer (whose income before he +adopted the dollar-a-day job for Uncle Sam +was reputed to be $10,000 a year). I didn’t +unearth him really. He bobbed up this morning, +when several of the fellows were playing +mouth organs, and now, behold, he’s organizing +a glee club. Then there is a linguist, who is +fresh from the biggest financial institution in +the world where he handled all their French +and Spanish translation work. He has started +a class in French which is in session for an hour +every evening. We are all <em>Parlez vous</em>-ing +with more or less (mostly more) inaccuracies. +But what we lack in accent and correct pronunciation +we make up for in genuine Parisian +gestures. Oh, we’re there all right. +</p> +<p> +Another of our enterprising members is a +well-known landscape gardener, who, in co-operation +with one of our several architects, has +organized a campaign for a “barracks beautiful,” +all of which doesn’t mean very much to +most of us, but gives them a good opportunity +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +to dispose of their spare time. Our afternoons +have been spent in pulling stumps in the vicinity +of the barracks and grading the street +and dooryard until now no one would ever recognize +it for the same place. But the landscape +gardener has carried the work a bit +further and with the assistance of several of +us, including myself, gone off into the woods +and dug up a score or more of pine and cedar +saplings about five feet high. These have been +transplanted in the form of a hedge around our +barracks, on top of a tiny terrace, and they +certainly soften the outlines of the unpainted +building and add a touch of that which is lacking +in the vicinity of most of the structures. +</p> +<p> +He, the landscaper, has placed whitewashed +stones at conspicuous corners, too, and on either +side of our tiny porch he has worked out the +number of the company and the number of the +division in concrete letters, which the camp +orderly scrubs industriously every morning to +keep them white and presentable. The job of +camp orderly, by the way, is the worst job a +man can be detailed to here, being one degree +lower than kitchen police; and since I know +mighty well the rigours of that, I’m going to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +steer clear of this other form of punishment, +if it is humanly possible to do so. +</p> +<p> +The Sunday crop of visitors flocked to camp +as usual to-day and I entertained several who +did not come to see me especially, but who +brought along such delightful lunch that I felt +constrained to show them about and be pleasant +to them at least while the lunch lasted. +</p> +<h2>Monday:</h2> +<p> +We were excused from drill this morning for +the purposes of being shod and getting our +second inoculation. Getting our shoes was +the most interesting and least painful of the +two. +</p> +<p> +After being shot (in the left arm this time) +we proceeded to the Q. M., where in one portion +of his domain shoes were being issued, two +pairs to a man, one pair for work and the other +for rest and fatigue. +</p> +<p> +Of course, immediately the fitting began the +men started to protest that they were insulted +by being given shoes too large for them. But +that didn’t disturb the shoe man, who merely +told them to mind their own business and he’d +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +take care of their feet, which belonged to the +Government anyhow. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i019' id='i019'></a> +<img src="images/illus19.jpg" alt="Each man was loaded with a fifty pound bag of sand." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Each man was loaded with a fifty pound bag of sand.</span> +</div> +<p> +Standing on a flat surface in stocking feet, +each man was loaded with a fifty pound bag of +sand. Then when his feet +had spread as much as +they possibly could, measurements +were taken from +every angle, just exactly +as if the shoes were to be +built especially for the +foot they were to adorn. +The collection of figures +was then gone over, and +compared with a chart, +after which two pairs of +shoes were found corresponding +with the dimensions covered by +number so-and-so. I’ve forgotten what my +number is, but I will confess that while the +shoes are several sizes larger than I would ever +think of buying in a shoe store, I have never +had anything on my feet that gripped my heels +and instep and ankles so firmly and yet allowed +me room enough to wiggle my toes around. +The dress shoes and the trench brogans of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +unfinished leather with half-inch soles filled with +hobs, and steel plated heels, feel more comfortable +than any shoes I have ever owned, and I +gratefully accepted the two pairs issued to me +and left for my quarters. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i020' id='i020'></a> +<img src="images/illus20.jpg" alt="“I like t’ geev da Kais a keek in da face wid-a dose shoes”" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>“I like t’ geev da Kais a keek in da face wid-a dose shoes”</span> +</div> +<p> +On my way up the road I passed an Italian +who seemed so pleased with his new footwear +that he just couldn’t help exhibiting them to me. +“Look,” he said, waving his huge foot, shod +with the trench shoes, about promiscuously, +“look ad da shoos. I like t’ geev da Kais a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +keek in da face wid-a dose shoos. Bet he no +smile some more dan.” Then he added, by +way of showing his qualifications to muss up +the Kaiser, “I belonga to ah wreckin’ crew +sometimes when I don’t come down here.” +</p> +<h2>Tuesday:</h2> +<p> +SWEAR; If you can’t think of +anything else to say, but do it +softly—very, very softly, so no +one else but yourself will hear +you. +</p> +<p> +Thus reads the sign that hangs over the door +of the Y. M. C. A. shack, at the end of our camp +street. That’s what I call social work humanized. +The Y. M. C. A. here is the most human +institution in this big, rawly human community. +It is the thing that puts the soul in soldier +as one chap expresses it. And because it is +that way, and because the men feel at home +and have a real time, and can smoke and put +their feet on the table, they think the red +triangle is the best little symbol about the big +camp. The “’Sociation” is making thousands +of friends every day among these strapping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +big, two-fisted fellows who really never knew +what the organization was. It’s bully. We all +wander over there sometime during every evening, +if it’s only to listen to a new record on +the phonograph. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i021' id='i021'></a> +<img src="images/illus21.jpg" alt="Our $10,000 a year song writer" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Our $10,000 a year song writer</span> +</div> +<p> +The shacks (I don’t know how many there +are, but there must be at least a dozen of them) +are the centres of amusement and entertainment +for us all. And we have some corking +concerts and other forms of entertainments +there. I don’t think I’ll ever forget our +$10,000 a year song writer as he appeared last +night, for instance, standing on top of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +piano, his hair all mussed up and his army +shirt opened at the throat, singing a solo +through a megaphone. And it was some solo! +About fifteen hundred huskies in khaki stood +around and listened to him and joined in on +the choruses. +</p> +<p> +Then they have lectures: “Ten Years as a +Lumber Jack,” “Farthest North,” by a certain +well-known explorer; “My First Year of the +Big War,” and similar subjects appear on the +bulletin boards every other night. Nothing of +the Sunday School variety about that sort of +thing. +</p> +<p> +And our prize fights! +</p> +<p> +I’m all excited yet over the one I saw to-night. +It was a whale of a battle; I mean the +last one was, there being several on the program. +The fellows fight for passes to go +home on Sunday and the decision is left up to +the onlookers. And if we don’t make the +scrappers work for those passes, then no +“pugs” ever did work. +</p> +<p> +Most of the boxers are former pugilists who +have been gathered up in the draft net, and so +long as they can get a chance to put on the gloves +they are just as pleased to be here as anywhere +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +else from all appearances. But sometimes the +scrappers aren’t “pugs” at that; just plain citizens +who possibly have been shadow boxing in +the secrecy of their bedrooms for the past ten +years and longing for courage enough to step +into the ring with a real fighter and discover +how good (or how bad) they are. They are +getting the opportunity here all right, and some +of them are uncovering a likely line of jabs and +counters. One fair-haired youngster downed +a mighty pugnacious-looking Italian a few +nights ago. +</p> +<p> +But to-night’s final was a winner. Three +scraps had been pulled off with real enthusiasm +and after the final round, there was a call for +more material, but no one in the crowd came +forward to put on the gloves. There were +calls and jeers and all that sort of thing, then +suddenly out from the crowd stepped a soggy-looking, +little red-haired fellow. +</p> +<p> +Yells of “Yah Redney!” “Hi Redney!” +“Good boy Brick Top!” +</p> +<p> +Redney blushed considerably and held up his +hand for silence. And when he got it he +explained. +</p> +<p> +“I ain’t a-going to fight no one but our Mess +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +Sergeant. That’s what I’m out here for, and +I’ll stick here till he comes.” +</p> +<p> +Calls for Mess Sergeant. He wasn’t +present. A speeding messenger from Red’s +company hurried out through the night to find +him. Ten minutes later, said Sergeant, a +soggy-looking chap himself, was brought in and +amid yells from the crowd he stepped inside the +ring. He looked once at Brick Top, then spat +on his hands and said: +</p> +<p> +“Where’s them gloves?” +</p> +<p> +Gloves were produced and laced on, then +without the preliminary handshake they +squared off and went to it. And what a battle! +They didn’t stop for rounds, or time out, or +anything. They just ducked and punched and +whaled away at each other until the blood began +to spatter all over and still they kept at it. +I don’t know what the misunderstanding between +them was and didn’t find out, but they +sure meant to settle the thing once and for all. +</p> +<p> +And the spectators; they went wild. +</p> +<p> +For ten minutes steadily the fighters milled +and I never saw a better slugging match. The +Sergeant had had more experience in boxing, +that was certain, but what Red lacked in skill +he made up for in hitting power. Every time +his glove met the Sergeant’s face it smacked +as loud as a hand clap. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i022' id='i022'></a> +<img src="images/illus22.jpg" alt="They didn’t stop for rounds, or time out, or anything." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>They didn’t stop for rounds, or time out, or anything.</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span></div> +<p> +Then just when it seemed as if they must be +tired out, there was a sudden clash and a whirl +of fists and Redney ducked away and started +one from the floor. It was an uppercut and it +found a clean hole between the Sergeant’s two +arms, and met him flush on the point of the jaw. +He staggered, tried to fall into a clinch, missed +the elusive Redney and went down with a +thump. +</p> +<p> +“1-2-3-4-5-6-” counted the referee. +</p> +<p> +The Sergeant rolled over and tried to get up. +“Don’t hold me down; lemme at him,” he said +huskily. But no one was holding him down. +It was his refractory nerves. They wouldn’t +obey his will power. +</p> +<p> +“7-8-9-10,” tolled off the fateful numbers. +Then what a yell went up for Redney, and Red, +almost all in, himself, evidently had satisfied +his grudge, for he went over and helped stand +the groggy Sergeant on his feet. +</p> +<p> +And all agreed it was some battle. +</p> +<p> +But the Y.M. shacks aren’t dedicated to prize +fights and swearing and concerts entirely. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +They are the nearest approach to home or club +life that most of us come in contact with for +weeks at a stretch. The big, open hearths +with their crackling logs are mighty fine places +to spend a pleasant hour or two. Then there +are the writing tables, and the reading rooms +with their books and magazines, and the +phonographs. +</p> +<p> +The other night I saw a great big fellow, with +burly fists and a stubbly beard on his chin (it +must have been the night before his bi-weekly +shave, which is as often as most of us can +find time—or the inclination to use a razor) +snuggled up close to the phonograph and listening +attentively to the “Swanee River,” which +he was playing as softly as the instrument +would permit, and now and then he would blow +his nose in a big handkerchief and wipe suspicious +signs of moisture from the corners of +his eyes. He was having a regular sad drunk +and enjoying every moment of it. I’ll bet he +thought he was the most homesick mortal in +camp. +</p> +<p> +Then there are the telephone booths. Every +night there is a line of at least fifty men waiting +patiently for a chance in the booth. At a dollar +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +a call they ring up the folks in the city and have +five minutes’ chat with them, just by way of +warding off an attack of homesickness. I’ve +used the booth five dollars’ worth to date. +</p> +<p> +These army breeches I’m wearing, I noticed +to-night, are very comfortable. I like the deep, +straight pockets in them. I think I’ll have my +civilian suit made with those kind of pockets +hereafter. But I haven’t gotten over the habit +of pulling them up each time I sit down so that +they won’t get baggy at the knees. +</p> +<h2>Wednesday:</h2> +<p> +Found my dog! +</p> +<p> +I was over in another section of the cantonment +this morning, for a few moments between +drill and mess call, and there was “Local Board +No. 163” as big as life, trotting along beside a +chap I knew. It was Billy Allen. The dog +recognized me and so did Billy and we stopped +a while and compared notes. +</p> +<p> +Billy had the worst hard luck story in respect +to the Draft of any man I know. He’s an +old National Guardsman, having enlisted soon +after we left school together. Spent eight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +years in the infantry, and went to the Border. +He left the service after he got back and a +little later when a call came for men for the +Officers’ Reserve Corps he applied and was +accepted, for the second camp. Meanwhile he +had registered as a man of draft age. Then +came his call for Officers’ Training Camp, +where he was making out famously; so well in +fact that he was recommended for the aero-plane +service. +</p> +<p> +But the recommendation was as far as he +got. The drawing had meanwhile been made +in Washington, he was well up in the list and +one fine day he received a notice to appear for +examination. Of course he passed and was +accepted. That yanked him out of the Officers’ +Reserve and now he’s down here, a private in +the “Suicide Club,” with Buck Winters, an +old classmate of both of us, his commanding +officer. +</p> +<p> +I told him about “Local Board No. 163” +whom he had dubbed “Mut” because he looked +it. First we were going to match for the dog, +but we decided, after a moment’s reflection, to +let him choose his master. Billy said good-bye +and walked one way and I walked the other and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +the dog, after a moment’s hesitation, went with +Billy. And so I lost my dog a second time. +I guess he didn’t like my cold water treatment +for fleas. +</p> +<p> +An interesting thing happened here to-day +that just shows how vast this huge cantonment +is. The cot next to Fat and two below me has +been vacant ever since we have been here. To-night +a chap came in from the barracks next +door, bag and baggage, and took possession of +it. Fat made his acquaintance right off, and +the newcomer told him that he had been transferred +to this company about the time we +were—a week or so ago—and since no one +told him where to go or where to bunk he +went to the barracks next door and took a +cot. +</p> +<p> +But he really belonged in here and was a +member of our squad, which for some mysterious +reason had always remained a seven-man +squad, with the eighth man assigned to it but +never heard from. Every roll call he had been +marked absent, and he had been put down as a +deserter and an alarm sent out for him through +the country. At the present moment the New +York police are searching diligently for him. +</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span></div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i023' id='i023'></a> +<img src="images/illus23.jpg" alt="I guess he didn’t like my cold water treatment for fleas" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>I guess he didn’t like my cold water treatment for fleas</span> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span></div> +<p> +And all the time he has been within a biscuit +toss of his proper place. +</p> +<p> +Over in the other company he was an outcast, +and they didn’t know what to do with him. +They were on the point of sending him back to +the city as an interloper when somehow the +mistake was discovered and he was summoned +to report over here. The interesting part of it +is, that he is an expert accountant, and his specialty +is searching out mistakes that other +people make in the way of misplaced figures +and things. +</p> +<p> +So far as the police were concerned, he said, +he didn’t care much, for the last place they +would ever look for him was down here. +Speaking of deserters, I noticed three sets of +finger-prints on our bulletin board which means +that three men have taken French leave and +they have prices on their heads, already. +</p> +<h2>Thursday:</h2> +<p> +This has been a moist and soggy day. I +don’t know that I have ever seen so much rain +before in one storm as I have to-day. Before +daylight it began; a perfect downpour, so violent that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +for reveille we lined up in the mess +hall. None of us ventured out to wash up, but +those of us who missed a cold sprinkle the most +had merely to poke our heads out of the +windows for a moment and then reach for a +towel. Some wetness. +</p> +<p> +The camp is a veritable sea of mud, and +those who go outdoors at all do so to the imminent +peril of becoming mired and never +returning. From the mess-hall windows at +breakfast we could watch the big heavy motor +truck of the transportation train, skidding and +sloshing about in the road, down which flooded +a perfect torrent of muddy rain water. Several +of them became hopelessly stuck in the +sticky mud, and their drivers abandoned them +and raced for cover in the Y. M. C. A. shack. +Officers and men everywhere have given up all +idea of outdoor work and the camp streets look +forlorn and deserted. They stretch away down +the hill to fade into the misty blur of the rain +itself, and on either hand stand the long, unpainted +barracks buildings, with dripping eaves +and rain blowing in sheets from their tinned +and tar-papered roofs. Outside, it is a dismal, +deserted-looking cantonment, with scarcely a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +sign of life, save now and then a venturesome +canine mascot scuttling from one sheltered spot +to another. +</p> +<p> +Drilling, of course, is utterly impossible and +the nearest approach we have had to anything +resembling military training to-day is a lecture +on sanitation in the mess hall by the First +Lieutenant. +</p> +<p> +But the rain has not dampened our desires +for amusement and as a result the interior of +the sleeping quarters presents, at the present +time, a picture that only a Remington could do +justice to. Atmosphere sticks out all over the +place. Army overcoats, tunics, variegated +comforters, blankets, mess kits, sweaters and +flannel shirts are hanging from every peg, +and men are sprawled on their cots, in +various attitude, some trying hard to sleep, +some writing, one man thoughtfully locating +the notes of a new tune on a mouth organ, +while another over in the corner—an Italian—is +the centre of an enthusiastic group, while he +plays doleful things on an old accordion he has +smuggled into camp. The air is blue with +tobacco smoke. +</p> +<p> +A number of us are writing, including myself, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +but the chief centres of interest are the two big +poker games and the big crap game down at +the end of the room. +</p> +<p> +They are all playing with that oppressive +quietness that portends big stakes. I was +startled a while ago upon walking over to the +nearest group to discover eighty dollars, in +ones, fives, and tens on the top of the army +cot that served as a table in a single jack pot, +and they were still betting. Our two Regular +Army Sergeants are members of one group and +Fat is sitting in at another. From the length +of time he has stayed and the smile on his face, +I can only guess that luck is with him for once. +</p> +<p> +But it has failed a lot of others. Now and +then a man leaves one game or the other, looking +sort of hopeless. There is always some one +to take his place, however. +</p> +<p> +One of these fellows, gone broke, hit upon a +happy idea which caused no end of interest +for an hour or two this afternoon. After +he had gone broke he left the game and +sat thoughtfully on the edge of his cot for +a while. Then he dug down into his duffel +bag under his cot and brought forth a razor. +Speedily he made up some raffle tickets on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +slips of note paper and presently, with the +razor in one hand and his campaign hat in the +other, he started through the room selling +chances on the razor at a dime a chance. The +raffle was held over in our corner, and one lucky +chap got the razor, easily worth two fifty, for a +single dime and the erstwhile owner, with five +dollars worth of change in his pockets, returned +to the game. +</p> +<p> +That started the raffle bug, and presently a +wrist watch was put up, then another razor +of the safety variety, a fountain pen, an +extra hand knitted sweater which some +one had luckily acquired, several boxes of +crackers which every one took a chance on at a +cent a chance and a variety of other things. +But the crackers were the most popular and +that helped one ingenious and venturesome +chap to evolve a money-making scheme. +</p> +<p> +In the height of the rainstorm, he was seen +to don his slicker, and hurry out into the storm. +He splashed all the way over to the Post +Exchange (about half a mile) to return a half-hour +later with four pies for which he had paid +forty cents each and three dozen boxes of +crackers all in good condition. The crackers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +went for double their value and the pies he +successfully split up into twelve fair-sized +portions which sold for ten cents each. That +trip in the rain netted him nearly seven dollars +he told me, and that seven dollars later on, +invested in the crap game, trebled itself; so, +all things considered, he has had a more or +less successful day. +</p> +<h2>Friday:</h2> +<p> +It is fast getting home to me now that in +spite of the heterogeneous conglomeration, of +races and creeds and languages, the National +Army is going to be the real thing as a fighting +force after all. Every one is keen for the thing +now that the first violent attacks of homesickness +have worn off and they are going at their +work of becoming soldiers with a will, except, +of course, for a few: the conscientious objectors; +and their life is no merry one. They +are mighty unpopular, as numerous black eyes +attest. Every one takes the slightest opportunity +to emphasize their displeasure at the +stand these men have taken. And some of +them are going around here under a cloud. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +For instance, the one in the Machine Gun outfit +who drills in pumps and summer suit but who +has the pleasure of knowing that after his soldiering +is all over with, he has three years to +spend in Atlanta or some other Federal jail for +little things he has done and views he has +expressed. +</p> +<p> +We have one of the breed in our company, a +Jew; and he’s the most unpopular man in the +outfit, even among those of his own race. All +of this variety, (the “objectors” I mean), who +have come to my notice, are sorry specimens +of manhood for the most part and I can’t +blame an able-bodied chap for despising them. +</p> +<p> +The foreign element is taking hold like real +Americans. It is interesting to get their slant +on the whole affair. Many of them didn’t +want to come. They had their own ideas of +army life, suggested, doubtless, by tales they +have heard of service in the European armies +of former days. But when they were called +they came; and behold, when they arrived and +lived through the first days, they were surprised +to find that they still were treated like +human beings, had certain indisputable rights, +were fed well and cared for properly and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +worked under officers who took a genuine interest +in their welfare. This was something +most unexpected. Right off they decided that +they were going to get all they could out of this +new life and give in return faithful and honest +service. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i024' id='i024'></a> +<img src="images/illus24.jpg" alt="“Make-a me strong, make-a me beeg, an’ best-a make-a me good American”" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>“Make-a me strong, make-a me beeg, an’<br/>best-a make-a me good American”</span> +</div> +<p> +“It’s fine, I like it,” assured a little Italian +friend of mine in the infantry. “I like it because +it help make me spick good English, +make-a me strong, make-a me beeg an’ best-a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +what is, make-a me good American, jus like-a +de boss Lieuten’.” +</p> +<p> +And in that last sentence, I believe, lies the +charm of it all to most of the foreigners. They +have learned that America and things American +are fine and clean and good and their ambition +now is to become a real American +“jus like-a de boss Lieuten’.” And when they +get to be real Americans, they are going to be +proud of the fact and they are going to fight +to prove it; that’s certain. +</p> +<p> +The camp is still soggy to-day and we have +drilled ankle deep in mud. My feet have been +wet from the time I stepped out of the barracks +until an hour ago, when I changed my socks and +put on my dress shoes. But shucks, what appetites +we brought back with us from the +parade grounds. I never did care for fish, but +I’ll be hanged if I didn’t eat three helpings +of the creamed salmon and spaghetti to-night. +</p> +<p> +A new wrinkle has developed here. We find +out what the fellows are going to have for +supper in nearby barracks and if the feed +promises to be better than what we are to +have several of us take our mess tins and go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +over and stand in line there. The Mess Sergeant +never knows the difference. +</p> +<h2>Saturday:</h2> +<p> +Sad news this evening. Only twenty-five per +cent. of each company is to be allowed to go +home to-morrow, because of the disorder and +general trouble at the railroad terminal last +Sunday. And the twenty-five per cent. is to +be drawn out of a hat. No chance for Fat or +me, that’s certain. We’re mighty unlucky +when it comes to passes and we are laying odds +now that neither of us will get permission to +go to the city. Anyhow, Fat is still in the same +predicament. If he does get a pass he won’t +be able to leave the camp. +</p> +<p> +At the present writing we are all waiting +for the mess call. And immediately after mess +the Sergeant will do the drawing of the names +for the passes. If I am not among the lucky +ones I’m going to try and—there goes the mess +call! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +</p> +<h2>Sunday:</h2> +<p> +I am ready to die with a smile on my lips +and a great happiness in my heart, for I’ve +spent one night between clean sheets, on a +really soft bed. I’ve eaten with a silver knife +and fork from real dishes and—whispered +softly—in the privacy of my own home I had +a glass of beer! +</p> +<p> +No, I wasn’t lucky (neither was Fat) but I +think I put something over on Uncle Sam. +</p> +<p> +The passes for the city were drawn for as +per schedule and since I was down at the +bottom of the list I was not included in the first +twenty-five per cent. The passes issued read +for New York City, and the men holding them +were privileged to leave by certain trains, being +marched down to the station under the watchful +eye of the Second Lieutenant. +</p> +<p> +Then, after these men were all away, came +the opportunity for the men who lived near the +camp and the men who wanted to visit nearby +towns to apply for leave. This was my opportunity. +I applied for thirty-six hours’ leave to +visit the town of R——, twenty miles distant, +and secured it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +</p> +<p> +Back in the barracks an interesting scene was +taking place, scores of tickets of leave had been +handed out to the men, to take the night and +following day off, but to get out of camp they +must be able to pass inspection with perfect and +well-fitting equipment, and since all of us had +not our full outfit, we had to hustle around and +borrow articles of clothing that would fit and +look satisfactory. I, for instance, have a full +winter uniform except for overcoat (which I +have not received) and tunic, the one I am +wearing being a summer coat of cotton and +hardly matching the wool trousers I possess. +So I had to join the crowd who were bartering, +exchanging and renting uniforms. And since +the first men to leave had done the same thing to +a certain extent, there was not much desirable +clothing left in the barracks. Overcoats were +going at a dollar a day and breeches and jackets +for fifty cents each. After a diligent search I +did find a chap who had a winter tunic and summer +trousers and, wonder of wonders, his jacket +fit me perfectly. We made an exchange and I +borrowed an overcoat at one dollar for the day, +from a chap who was not leaving camp, and +sallied forth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +</p> +<p> +Tramping down Twenty-third Avenue (the +streets are all named here and our barracks +is on Fourteenth Street and Third Avenue), +whom should I behold but friend Billy, bound +in the same direction. He had had the same +inspiration as I and he, too, had a pass for +R——. We wandered on together, but upon +reaching the railroad station, our hopes of getting +to our destination were dashed. There +were no more trains for R—— until the +morning! +</p> +<p> +We wept. But our tears didn’t blind us to +the fact that there were occasional machines +passing along the highway. So we walked out +and stood there in the moonlight and looked as +lonesome and forlorn as possible. +</p> +<p> +And the first machine to come along was a +beautiful big Pierce Arrow limousine, with an +old dowager, a pleasant and generous old soul, +its single occupant, save of course the chauffeur. +We went to R—— in style; and, moreover, +we went there in a hurry, for with khaki +in the machine the chauffeur assumed that he +had the right of way and full permission to +wreck the speed laws. +</p> +<p> +At R—— we looked up time tables and discovered that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +we could get a train into the city +at ten-thirty, which was not so bad. Then, because +our passes really limited us to R——, we +concluded that it was only fair to the Government +to at least eat a meal in that town and +since we were both hungry in spite of our recent +mess, we searched for a restaurant. +</p> +<p> +We found one; a French restaurant, which +looked peculiarly deserted. The door was +locked, for some strange reason, yet there were +several men in aprons inside apparently hard +at work. We rattled on the door and in a moment +the frowning proprietor came forward. +But the frown changed to a smile when he saw +us. It was the khaki. He unbolted the door +and, with a ceremonious bow, welcomed us in, +then closed the door and bolted it. +</p> +<p> +And then he explained that this was a new +restaurant not yet opened for patronage. He +expected to open up in a day or maybe two. +But, of course, he could not turn away two +hungry soldiers, never. <em>Merci non!</em> He had +nothing to serve us with, but what were our +desires? Express them and he would send out +for the provisions, cook them and serve them. +Steak! Indeed, yes. In twenty minutes we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +would have a wonderful steak, French fried +potatoes, salad, coffee and ice cream. Jean +would attend to it. +</p> +<p> +And Jean did. He rustled up the steak and +the rest and we alone occupied the restaurant, +and soon were eating the most delicious piece +of beef we believed we had ever put our teeth +through. The bill! Nothing; nothing at all—what?—well +if we insist, one dollar each. +Thank you! And now here is a pen and some +ink. You will please autograph each bill and +behold, when you return from glorious France, +covered with glorious glory, you should come +in and see these two bills—the first money +taken in at the restaurant—framed and hanging +there over the desk. And so, I suppose, +the future generation of visitors to R—— will +be able to view these immortal monuments to +our—I don’t know what, unless it be our +khaki uniforms—hanging there in the French +restaurant possibly surrounded by wreaths as +each anniversary of day before yesterday rolls +’round. +</p> +<p> +We got the ten-thirty train for the city, and +we almost got into trouble too; or at least I +did, for as we hurried into the smoker whom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +should I see sitting buried in a magazine but +the First Lieutenant of our Company. Had +he made the trip the same way we did? I +don’t know and, of course, I didn’t ask. We +just walked through the car very swiftly and +he never looked up. +</p> +<p> +It was fifteen minutes of midnight when I +arrived home, let myself in with my latch key +which I have been carrying as a silent reminder +of my former terrifically wild (?) career; routed +out the folks, and sat swathed in bath-robe +and dressing-gown until 3 o’clock, just talking. +It was bully. And then I tumbled into my own +bed and slept and slept and slept. I woke up +at reveille all right—(it was just daylight)—grinned, +rolled over and slept and slept and +slept some more. +</p> +<p> +Then I had a real bath in a real tub with real +hot water, and a lot of real things to eat and +real cigars to smoke and real friends to talk +with until five o’clock in the afternoon, when I +crawled into my regimentals once more, and +went out to meet Billy by appointment. +</p> +<p> +Going back via R—— route (which was +necessary) curtailed our leave which really +continues until to-morrow morning at reveille, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +but then we were very happy; so happy that +when we arrived in R—— we chartered a taxi-cab +for the twenty mile drive out here and now +I’m nearly frozen through from the cold wind +that blew in at us. And I’m tired, too, but I’m +happy and ready to turn in ten minutes before +taps. +</p> +<h2>Monday:</h2> +<p> +I’ll need no “Melody in Snore Minor” to lull +me to sleep to-night, for I am thoroughly +weary. It was intimated a day or so ago that +our training would be hurried a little so +that we would be ready for a quick shift +at any time. But hurried doesn’t exactly +describe it. It looks like an early fall drive +to me. +</p> +<p> +We began at the beginning, this morning, and +had our squad drills all over again, and somehow +in the juggling about of men to make up +our company formation I managed to get last +place in line, and pivot man in the front rank +of the last squad. +</p> +<p> +Before to-day I’ve been in the rear rank and +had a screen of front-rank men to cover up any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +blunders I might make, but being in the first file +gave me stage fright. And, of course, with the +stage fright I bungled;—forgot which was left +and which was right. We began by facing, and +first chance I managed to turn left when the +command was right. That blunder made me +more self-conscious. If I had had to talk I’m +sure I would have stuttered. As it was I +stammered with my feet. +</p> +<p> +Then “About Face.” +</p> +<p> +I faced about all right, only I pivoted on a +stump root that some stupid had forgotten to +dig out. The result was I lost my balance, and +made several movements instead of one before +I came to position. +</p> +<p> +At drills the Sergeants, who do most of the +drilling, are equipped with sticks about a yard +long so that they can poke a rear-rank man in +the back without disturbing the front-rank men, +and thus call attention to blunders. Being a +rear-rank man on the about face, I presently +felt the stick poking into my ribs and the +command: +</p> +<p> +“You step out here.” +</p> +<p> +I stepped out, and was requested, along with +much language, to go up in front of the company and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +give a demonstration in the proper +method of “about facing.” +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i025' id='i025'></a> +<img src="images/illus25.jpg" alt="A demonstration in the proper method of “about facing”" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>A demonstration in the proper method of “about facing”</span> +</div> +<p> +My self-consciousness fled immediately. I +was mad. I wanted to talk back, and make a +few remarks about the Sergeant and the +stump and things. But I suddenly thought +of a tour of kitchen police and restrained myself. +Instead I about faced with such energy +that the Sergeant knew I was boiling inside, +and being a decent sort of a chap, he sent me +back to the ranks after a couple of demonstrations, +instead of keeping me out there for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +fifteen minutes as I have seen them do to some +fellows. +</p> +<p> +After that I felt more at ease in the front +rank. All morning long we ambled across the +landscape, doing squad and company movements. +It was just drill, drill, drill, for fifty +out of every sixty minutes, the ten minutes being +allowed as rest periods. We reviewed all +our previous instructions and worked up to the +point of forming company fronts, with the +movements of right and left front into line and +on right into line, and as pivot man, I think I +did mighty well. Our squad never stepped off +a pace ahead of time on any of the formations. +And when we were marching back to the barracks +at mess time, the Sergeant came up +beside me, and remarked, by way of apology +for hauling me out of the ranks earlier in the +morning, that I was doing good pivot work. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps we didn’t enjoy mess! Three +helpings of navy beans for me with pineapple +marmalade, and a piece of salt pork on the +side, not to mention three cups of coffee and +three slices of bread. I sure had luck on the +mess line to-day. +</p> +<p> +This afternoon the First Lieutenant took +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +charge of the company, and he had us traipsing +all over the landscape again, doing the same +sort of close order manœuvres, and when we +lined up just before retreat he announced that +we would have rifles to-morrow morning. +</p> +<p> +It is interesting to see how rumours travel +and gather force in the barracks. Some one, +somehow, heard that an artist and a stenographer +from our company are to sail for France +in a day or two. Of course, all my friends have +come to the conclusion that I am the artist. A +chap told me about it at mess this evening, and +since then several dozen have looked me up to +shake hands with me and tell me good-bye, with +such remarks as: “Hear you have orders to +sail for France to-morrow; great.” “They +tell me you got a commission from Washington +and that you are going across in a day or two,” +or, “Say, you’re a lucky chap; where’d you get +the drag down in Washington?” +</p> +<p> +But these queries fail absolutely to thrill +me. I am quite calm and undisturbed. I deny +any “drag” whatever, and I know that I am +not the artist mentioned in the order for transfer, +if there is any such order, which I doubt. +This is only about the <em>n</em>th time that same +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +rumour has been afloat as a result of which I +have bade good-bye to my friends about every +other day only to discover myself still with +them a week later with the same old rumour +bobbing up again. +</p> +<h2>Tuesday:</h2> +<p> +I’m really a soldier. I know the manual +of arms. +</p> +<p> +This morning, true to the First Lieutenant’s +prediction, we drilled with rifles and now I am +quite convinced of the truth of the old saying +that a gun is dangerous without lock, stock, or +barrel. Fat turned around suddenly when he +had his rifle over his shoulder and poked the +muzzle of it into my mouth; a regular Happy +Hooligan performance, and now I have a split +(and considerably puffed) lip and a loose tooth +to my credit in this horrible war. +</p> +<p> +We were marched over to one of the infantry +barracks on the edge of the big parade grounds +and there we found our rifles; I mean ours for +the day only, because there are hardly enough +in camp to equip us all yet and we have to +take turns using them. In the same way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +there is only one field piece to each artillery +company, but that doesn’t seem to worry the +artillery men much. +</p> +<p> +They are doing some real drilling over on the +other side of the camp. I was surprised to +discover a company at work digging trenches, +another company practising throwing hand +grenades, with stones representing the deadly +Mill’s bombs, still another group constructing +parapets of sand bags, and working out machine +gun emplacements, and in the distance +artillery companies hovering about a sleek +looking gun, learning the complicated parts +and where and how the animals are served. +</p> +<p> +Krags, instead of Springfields, are the rifles +available for drilling purposes here, and for the +first hour this morning we devoted our time to +learning the floor plan of the thing. I was +getting along famously until Fat interrupted +my investigations with the muzzle of his +weapon. +</p> +<p> +Soon after that we started drilling. And I +think it is to our credit that before noon we +had mastered all the movements and that our +pieces snapped up to position with real +vigour. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +</p> +<p> +“Let me hear them hands slap them pieces,” +said the Sergeant; then “Ri—sholler—harms! +One-two-three-four! Pep, that’s it, pep an’ +snap. Slap ’em hard. Ordah—harms! One-two-three! +<em>Done</em> drop ’em—<em>done</em> slam ’em +down. Nex’ man slams ’em gits kitchen +p’lice.” +</p> +<p> +So we drilled until our arms ached, and rifles +that weighed about eight pounds at the beginning +of the drill seemed to have increased to +fifty pounds, and felt as long as telephone +poles. Perhaps we weren’t glad when our +First Lieutenant put a stop to the punishment +and started us in the general direction of the +mess hall. +</p> +<p> +And we had beef stew for dinner; beef stew +with rich brown gravy, such as our old biscuit +shooter alone can make. +</p> +<p> +But after mess we were back at it again. +Only this time it was bayonet practice, but not +of the variety pictured in most magazines. We +haven’t reached the stage of charging trenches +and swinging bundles of sticks. Such advanced +work comes later. +</p> +<p> +Bayonets are awkward, ugly things, and I +could not help being grateful that Fat took it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +into his head to poke me in the mouth with his +rifle this morning instead of this afternoon. If +he had waited until after mess he wouldn’t have +split my lip; he would have cut my head off. +When I saw him with bayonet fixed I gave him +a wide radius of action. Indeed I avoided him +as if he were a plague. +</p> +<p> +In open, or extended, order we lined up on +the parade grounds in front of one of these +movable elevated platforms. Our Second Lieutenant +mounted this, and with a bayonetted rifle +in hand went through the various lunges, +thrusts and parries of the bayonet manual, +meanwhile giving us a lecture, to the effect that +no matter what the War Department intended +to do with us, a knowledge of bayonet fighting +would be essential. He assured us that the +logical weapon for an American soldier was +the rifle. One of our birthrights is markmanship +and another is bayonet fighting. He +briefly cantered over a century and a half of +history of the Republic and pointed out how +we had won fame and honour with bullet and +bayonet, and he wound up by telling us that +every American soldier should prepare himself +so that he would be as dangerous to fool with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +as a stick of dynamite. Picture good-natured +Fat impersonating a stick of dynamite. +</p> +<p> +Then we went at it. We lunged and thrust +and parried until perspiration began to stand +out on our foreheads. From the corner of my +eye I had a vision of Fat trying to disguise +himself as a high explosive. Every time he +lunged, he would scowl viciously and emit a +loud grunt. I discovered a few moments ago, +however, that it was a case of over-eating at +mess time that caused him to grunt and +frown every time he tried to move very fast; +not a desire to look ferocious, although I +guess it passed for that in the eyes of the +instructor. +</p> +<p> +And now I’m told we are to get this sort of +training daily for a long period; close order +formation in the morning, with rifle and bayonet +drill in the afternoon and later on we will +do skirmish work, trench work and open order +work with rifles. Some of the infantry companies +are already doing that. I was treated +to the spectacle of two companies scurrying +across the upper end of the parade grounds like +so many rabbits. Now and then they would +fling themselves down on their stomachs and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +begin snapping away merrily with empty rifles +at an imaginary enemy. +</p> +<p> +We are a tired-looking company to-night. +Already half the cots are filled with men, some +of them snoring lustily and it is only a quarter +to ten. +</p> +<h2>Wednesday:</h2> +<p> +There are a lot of things calculated to stir +a chap’s sentimental streak about this camp, +particularly the nights; moonlight nights like +to-night for instance. Every hard outline of +the huge place is softened under the blue-black +mantle of night, and the disagreeable things are +lost in the heavy shadows and the moonlight +floods the open places, and glistens on the rows +upon rows of tin roofs and tall, gaunt-looking +tin smoke-stacks. Watch-fires (a sanitary precaution) +blaze in their deep holes in the rear of +each barracks building, and the lonesome fire-guard, +bundled in his overcoat and with rifle +over his shoulder, stands silhouetted against +the night sky beside each flaring pit. +</p> +<p> +Out on the main streets of the camp are +thousands of fellows in khaki, walking aimlessly up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +and down, while in the by-streets +between the barracks buildings one sees +shadowy figures and glowing cigarette ends +moving about in the darkness. Through the +tiny panes of each barracks window, partly +obscured by overcoats and sweaters which +dangle from pegs inside, filters a warm yellow +light, and as one moves down the row, one +hears from one building the music of an +accordion and the rhythmic shuffle of feet +which tells of a “stag” dance being held in the +mess hall; while from another comes the soft +plunk-plunking of a banjo and the occasional +drone of a mouth organ that seeks after harmony, +but only succeeds with an effort. +</p> +<p> +Off to the right toward the parade grounds +some fellows are singing and their songs sound +mighty good in the moonlight. And from far +beyond where the thick pine woods stand out +black against the sky comes faintly the hooting +of a distant owl. +</p> +<p> +On the main streets that skirt the outer edge +of the cantonment on three sides, the arc lights +glisten, like rows of far off diamonds against +the velvet of a jewel box, and here and there, +where two twinkle, like low-hung stars, stand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +out the Y.M. shacks where the men are gathering +for an evening’s recreation. +</p> +<p> +It is wonderful to wander out such nights as +these. Bundled in a sweater to keep out the +chill of evening, and with only my pipe for +company, I often go tramping off through the +by-streets of the camp. The smoke of the +hundreds of watch-fires is wafted to me on +every breeze and in wood smoke there is a +charm; the charm of camping out. Never in +my life will I smell the smoke of burning pine +wood, but that these nights will come trooping +through my memory, and I’m certain that I will +be homesick then and want to come back and +live them all over again. +</p> +<p> +And the things I often see:—the fire-guard +for instance, who alone out there behind +the barracks was trying hard to read +a letter by the light of his flickering watch-fire. +Was it a letter he had just received +and could not wait to open, or was it a +letter that he had read many, many times +before and was rereading once again? Then +the lonesome dog who sat out in the company +street and stared up solemnly at the moon, +like a lone wolf on the prairie. What instincts +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +were being waked within him by the moonlight? +And the silhouette through the window of the +chap sitting on his cot patiently plying needle +and thread and the two fellows who leaned +against the jacketed field piece in front of +an artillery barracks and talked in whispers, +while through the opened door of the buildings +on either hand came the noise of a rousing +good time within. +</p> +<p> +Then the tramp up Tower Hill, where +the headquarters building with its darkened +windows like sightless eyes stands out from +the sparse remains of the pine woods, flecked +here and there with patches of moonlight. +</p> +<p> +Far off across the great camp, and across the +tops of the pines one can dimly see from the +top of the hill the ocean with the moonlight +flashing on its surface, and occasionally comes +a breath of chilled salt air that stirs a longing, +vague and fleeting, as the ocean has always +stirred a longing in the soul of the adventurer. +From here one can look down upon the great +camp. Thousands and thousands of roofs +stand out in the moonlight, and the watch-fires +twinkle in orderly rows up and down each +camp street. Far off to the left are the big +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +machine shops and forges of the construction +company, the forge fires glowing red against +the night, while faintly comes the far-off ring +of anvils. Those forge fires, like the bakery +fires, never die. +</p> +<p> +To the eastward is the railroad terminal with +its panting engines and its medley of noises, +while nearer at hand but in the same direction +is the transport headquarters with its ceaselessly +moving caravan of rumbling, grumbling +army trucks. All combines to make a picture +that holds one spell-bound. +</p> +<p> +The days here are pleasant indeed, but the +nights are almost intoxicating. They cast a +spell upon me and leave a memory that can +never fade. +</p> +<h2>Monday:</h2> +<p> +This place looks like a growing mining town +somewhere out West, but for real atmosphere, +the civilian camp, outside the reservation, has +the cantonment looking really civilized. I went +out there this evening after mess; for I heard +that there was a cigar store included in the outfit, +and the impression I got was a lasting one. +Everything of the frontier was there save the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +saloons and the gambling halls. Shacks, tents +(rows upon rows of them), lean-tos and all +forms of domiciles. And the men who walked +the streets were of every variety, including +real lumber jabs in mackinaws and spiked +boots, who had come down to cut away the +timber; Italians, Poles, Swedes, Slavs and +what not, and a real cowgirl, in short skirts and +high leather boots, with a silk handkerchief +scarf, sombrero and a big thirty-eight strapped +to her hip. She, I learned, runs a motor bus +between the civilian camp and the nearest +towns. +</p> +<p> +Cook fires twinkled outside of the tents, lights +showed through the canvas walls reflecting the +huge, grotesque, shadowy figures of the occupants. +From one emanated the strains of an +accordion and from another the babble of voices +that suggested a quarrel over a card game. +</p> +<p> +I found the cigar store. I found other stores, +too, just shacks thrown together, but carrying +a stock of everything in the line of wearing apparel +and eatables. One displayed the sign of +“Jack’s Unsurpassable Lunch,” another “The +Elite,” and another “The Emporium.” There +were hundreds of squalid booth-like structures +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +besides, where a host of curious things were for +sale to the hordes of big-fisted, deep-chested +men who were brought there to build the cantonment. +But they tell me that the civilian +camp is fast breaking up now, for the cantonment +is almost completed. The remount +stables for the artillery, the refrigerating plant +and the huge bakery are all that remain to +be built and the labourers are leaving in big +groups. +</p> +<p> +The temporary bakery (I passed it to-night +on my way back to camp) is represented by a +double line of tents, before each of which is a +big field baking oven, its coal fire glowing from +lower doors like huge, red eyes and its gaunt +smoke-stack reaching upward to terminate in +a cloud of black smoke which ascends higher +and higher in long, graceful spirals until it is +lost in the darkness of the night. +</p> +<p> +Before these ovens work the bakers, in khaki, +of course, but each swathed in a flowing white +apron. With sleeves rolled up and shirts +opened at the throat, they wield their long +bakers’ paddles, and as they pass to and fro +in the dull red firelight, they look elfish and +grotesque; exactly like a lot of gnome bakers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +off in the “nowheres” baking bread for some +ferocious ogre who bids them work incessantly. +</p> +<p> +And these loaves they bake are indeed loaves +for ogres; huge affairs two feet long and as +big ’round their rich brown girth as pumpkins. +In “sheets” of a dozen each they are brought +from the fire and placed steaming hot on a +nearby table where an expert breaks them +apart and tests the tenderness of their fibre +and searches for signs of doughiness. These +bakers are all of the Regular Army now, but +not long since czars of dingy cellar bakeries +located anywhere from Boston to San Francisco. +But the ogre has called them together +and here like gnomes they work, eight hours +each in three shifts and the oven fires are kept +burning always. +</p> +<p> +Still we drill, drill, drill. This morning was +spent in manœuvring and tramping over the +wet and soggy countryside in company formation, +and this afternoon, by way of variety, we +were given a few hours fatigue duty in the line +of uprooting more stumps and gnarled tentacles, +that seem to have rooted themselves in +China. But our hands are hard and leathery +now and our muscles no longer creak and pain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +under the stress. I’ve added four pounds to +my former weight and I have never felt more +fit in my life. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i026' id='i026'></a> +<img src="images/illus26.jpg" alt="They seemed to have rooted themselves in China" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>They seemed to have rooted themselves in China</span> +</div> +<h2>Tuesday:</h2> +<p> +The cost of high living here is enormous. +The stoop-shouldered, shrewd-eyed, flinty-hearted +Yankee clerks behind the broad +counters of the “Post Exchange” disdain anything +less than a quarter. Dimes and nickels +are chicken-feed, and pennies—impossible. If +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +a chap buys one apple at five cents or one pear +or one banana (always green and a long way +from being ripe) he has to hide himself in the +crowd to escape the baleful eye of these grasping +sharks. Five cent crackers sell two boxes +for a quarter, penny candies are five cents each, +cigars and cigarettes are considerably above +normal in price and considerably below in +quality, and ice cream sells for ten cents a +gram. +</p> +<p> +But none of us has grown up. We are all +like big boys and we spend with no thought of +to-morrow. Mess over, we all hie out to the +two main roads that lead to the “Post Exchange,” +jingling coins in our trouser pockets. +The “Exchange” itself is a long, low unpainted +building like all other buildings here with tiny +back country windows, half-obscured by garments +hanging within which leave only a few +dirty squares for the dull yellow light to show +through. +</p> +<p> +The doors are broad and through them +streams a never ending line of troopers, some +coming, some going. Inside, the place resembles +nothing more than a huge up-country +general store with shelves upon shelves stacked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +high with cracker boxes, shoe boxes, hardware +and goodness only knows what not, while from +the rafters hang heavy coats, sweaters, lanterns, +huge stalks of green bananas, hams, +bacon, boots and a lot of useless things that +only gullible soldiers who feel a yearning to +spend their money really purchase. But this +spending of money somehow seems to bring us +closer to civilization for the moment and we +join the churning mass of men within, whose +hobnailed shoes produce a great pounding and +scraping sound and whose voices are raised in +a constant babble of conversation which only +the sharp ting, ting of the cash register bells +can punctuate. +</p> +<p> +We mill around with the crowd, and soon are +pushed against a counter. Something attracts +our eye. We feel a desire to possess it. We +buy it, and start milling about the room again +until presently we are near the door. Then +we step out into the night again and join one +of the groups of loiterers or sit about on boxes +and piles of lumber, where we devour our purchase, +if it happens to be in the line of crackers +(which is usually the case), or admire it, if it +happens to be a pocket flash lamp, a fountain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +pen or something else that we really never have +had any use for. +</p> +<p> +The small-town idea prevails even in the city +of thirty thousand lonesome men. The “Post +Exchange” and the “Post Office” are the two +centres of interest. First we wander to one, +and then we wander to the other, then with time +on our hands we join the stream of men going +up one side of the road “just walkin’” and +when we reach the point where most of the +crowd turns back, we turn back, too, and continue +our “walkin’,” with no particular place +to go, until the streets begin to get deserted and +it is time for the town to close up. Then we +disappear, too, and for an hour occupy ourselves +in the barracks until taps are sounded +and lights are out, when we go to bed; the place +I’m headed for now, so soon as I put the top +on my fountain pen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +</p> +<h2>Wednesday:</h2> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i027' id='i027'></a> +<img src="images/illus27.jpg" alt="Sick Call" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>Sick Call</span> +</div> +<p> +That’s the call that brings out all the +shirkers. They line up in the morning and +present all sorts of ailments from sore throat +to heart disease. +</p> +<p> +The line is especially long on mornings when +they know we are in for two hours of “settin’-ups” +or when some especially hard detail such +as camp orderly or kitchen police has been +handed out. A day in the hospital will relieve +one of all these duties. This morning I was on +the long line. But I hasten to explain that <em>I</em> +was sick (that’s what they all say, of course,) +with chills and a scrapy feeling in my throat; +and since we are forbidden to take any medicine +of our own, I shame-facedly line up with the +rest of them. There were about twenty all told +and the doctor made short work of us. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter with you?” very cross. +</p> +<p> +“I-I-I-here—it hurts,” said one, pointing +to his back and looking quite scared. The M. +D. poked his finger into the spot designated. +</p> +<p> +“Man you’re not sick,” said the doctor in a +very startling manner, “you’re almost dead, +only you won’t lie down. You’ve dislocated a +couple of vertibraes, ruptured a half-dozen ligaments +and like as not you have a chronic case of +pneumonia. The only thing that I can recommend +for you is two hours of strenuous exercise. +You may pull through and you may not.” +Then, with a malicious grin, he turned to the +next man and the first invalid shuffled off, +mumbling something about horse doctors without +any horse sense. +</p> +<p> +Two out of twenty of us got by. The rest +went to work. I was one of the two. I had +a slight temperature and an inflamed throat. +Nothing serious, but report to the hospital. I +did. And the best thing about the hospital was +the fact that there were two sheets on the bed +and I had an abbreviated flannel nightshirt to +sleep in. Three big pills, the size of bullets and +just as deadly, and then I turned in, went to +sleep and slept right through mess time. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +</p> +<p> +Four o’clock I was feeling very much better +and ravenously hungry and at five o’clock I was +discharged as cured. I don’t know what I was +cured of, but I’m feeling much spryer just now +after three helpings of beef stew and apple +marmalade and I’m ready to turn in and sleep +some more. +</p> +<h2>Thursday:</h2> +<p> +If there is one thing that I want to remember +more than anything else about this Conscript +Camp it is the spectacle I witnessed and took +part in this evening. +</p> +<p> +Fancy if you can Tower Hill with its big +headquarters building snuggled in among the +scattered and gaunt pines, the tall, ungainly +water-tank propped up on all too spindly-looking +stilts. On top of this a single figure thrown +in bold relief by the golden yellow light of a big +watch-fire, beating time with his baton, and +below him, clothing the slopes of the hill five +thousand men, his chorus, thundering forth +across the starlit night “Columbia the Gem of +the Ocean.” That chorus was wonderful; that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +crowd was wonderful; everything about it was +wonderful. +</p> +<p> +We were all singing; thousands of fellows in +khaki, some snuggled in their big army overcoats, +some puffed out like pouter pigeons with +the sweaters they had piled on under their +tunics against the cold chill of night. Intermingled +were the lumber jacks and labourers +from the civilian camp, most of them in gay +mackinaws and caps; with now and then an +officer immaculately clad in clean cut uniform, +or a Y. M. C. A. man in grey-green suit with +red circle and triangle gleaming in the firelight. +And how well they could sing; I have +never heard a more stirring chorus and as we +raised our voices loud and clear shivery thrills +raced up and down our spines, and we were +stirred to the highest pitch of patriotic fervor. +Indeed, there were some among us who could +find no better way of expressing the emotion +that swelled within save by tears. They cried. +I was one of them. +</p> +<p> +“America” and “Dixie” and “Maryland” +followed and every one produced its own thrill +and its own heartache. Never was there anything +more stirring, Never was there anything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +finer. We sang till our voices were husky and +the great chorus surged loud and clear across +the night, until it must have echoed against the +crags of the Rhine and caused the Hun to +shudder. +</p> +<p> +Then the breaking up of the big meeting, +when groups detached themselves and wandered +out of the fitful flicker of the dying firelight +into the misty blue blackness of the night, +still singing. Out through the streets of the +camp we tramped, stepping to the cadence of +our own songs. We were all happy, very, very +happy and draft or no draft, down in our +hearts we all knew that we were in the very +place we were meant to be, and we were doing +the very things that we should do, and that +when the time came we would do other and +greater things with as much eagerness and enthusiasm +as we had sung up there on Tower +Hill to-night. +</p> +<p> +The whole camp was singing even after the +concert, but the character of the songs changed. +“Over There” swelled forth everywhere and +“The Yankees Are Coming” was chanted in +every street. Out toward our own barracks +our little group swung, passing the railroad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +siding where, partly shrouded in the canvas +jackets, new artillery pieces were waiting to be +moved in the morning. A cheer for these and +a cheer for everything and anything that suggested +patriotism, and on we tramped, brimming +over with enthusiasm. +</p> +<p> +And now I’m back to the barracks again, but +the mysteries of the night and the spell of the +whole wonderful occasion is still over me and +I know I shall lie awake a long, long time and +think and dream of all that waits for me in +the not very distant future. And the promises +I made myself up there on Tower Hill will all +be fulfilled, that’s certain. +</p> +<h2>Friday:</h2> +<p> +Momentous news. We of the headquarters +company, or rather eighty-seven of us, start +Monday on the first leg of that longed-for journey +to France. We go to a Southern training +camp where new units are being formed into +which each of us will fit. And along with this +news came the announcement that none of us +will be given a pass to go home for a last +good-bye. This has stirred the men more than +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +the news of the transfer South. Several impromptu +indignation meetings were held this +morning and this afternoon, just after mess, a +real demonstration took place in the mess hall +and most of the eighty-seven of us were loud in +our assertions that we would go home anyway, +even though we were arrested for desertion +afterward. +</p> +<p> +This little incident served to impress upon +me more than anything else the freedom that +is accorded the men of this new American +Army, for behold, before the meeting broke up +a Lieutenant came in and addressed us on the +penalties for desertion, the difficulty of dealing +with headstrong soldiers and similar subjects, +and then when we all felt and looked like +slackers he announced that although orders had +gone forth that no passes were to be granted, +our commanding officer, knowing our feeling in +the matter, was at that time trying very hard +to arrange to secure permission for the men to +go home over Saturday night and Sunday. As +I left the mess hall I wondered vaguely how +such a mass meeting would have been treated +in the German Army, for instance, and I +thanked my lucky stars that I was an American. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +</p> +<p> +But there are a thousand and one things remaining +to be accomplished to-day. I have +been hurrying from one place to another since +reveille and now at taps all that I should do is +not done yet. But to-morrow is another day. +</p> +<p> +First of all we were rushed off to receive our +third and fourth inoculations together. Then +came the announcement that we would be relieved +of all our winter clothing and given a +complete summer outfit instead, for it appears +there is no need for woollens in this Southland +camp to which we are going. +</p> +<p> +And between times, there were a score of +personal things I wanted to do, not the least +of which was to join the line of waiting men +before the telephone booths in the Y. M. C. A. +shacks to tell them at home the news of our +going. In all this, poor Fat seems to be sadly +left out, for he is not among the fellows who +are to leave. He stands helplessly by and +watches the hurry and bustle going on about +him, and sometimes I think there is a sad, wistful +sort of a look in his big, good-natured face, +for I know he doesn’t like the idea of staying +here when the snow begins to fall and winds +whistle disconsolately around the corners of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +barracks building. I am glad that <em>I</em> will not +have to spend the winter here and I’m sorry, +too, that Fat is not to be with me. +</p> +<h2>Saturday:</h2> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i028' id='i028'></a> +<img src="images/illus28.jpg" alt="A soldier-boy in his native haunts" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>A soldier-boy in his native haunts</span> +</div> +<p> +To-day, for the first time since I have been +here, I had visitors. Those at home, eager to +get a glimpse of their +soldier-boy in his native +haunts, came down to see +things as they are. I’m +quite certain that the general +arrangement of the +barracks, with its cluttered +appearance suggested by +many pairs of shoes standing +around and many hats +and coats and old sweaters +hanging about, did not +accord with mother’s ideas +of good housekeeping. +And she assured me that +many of the old rose, pink +and baby blue comforters would not have suffered +from a washing, all of which I had never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +noticed before, until she drew my attention to it. +She intimated, too, that my dish towel and my +hand towel would never testify as to my respectable +up-bringing, and she felt that I should make +a practice of taking off those abominably heavy +trench shoes in the evening and putting on a +pair of slippers which she would send down to +me. She thought that a bath-robe might come +in handy for lounging in the evening and perhaps +after we got comfortably settled in our +Southern quarters, she might send one of the +big, roomy library chairs down to me, for she +did not approve of one’s sitting on one’s bed +the way most of us did. She deplored the total +lack of chairs about the barracks and she was +quite sure that taking an ice cold shower out +in that horrible big tin building would certainly +result in innumerable cases of influenza, if +nothing more serious. She’s a dear old mother +and I don’t know that I have ever appreciated +her so much as I have since I’ve been down +here. +</p> +<p> +Then with my visitors caring for themselves +for a while, and mother chumming up with the +always affable Fat, whom she took quite a fancy +to, I hurried about my work of being re-outfitted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +with summer uniforms. Fortunately they allowed +me to retain my overcoat (which I received +but a few days ago) until we are ready +to entrain. +</p> +<p> +Then came the passes. The officer was successful +and we who are to go South are given +a release from duty until to-morrow night at +retreat. Other passes were distributed, too, +and Fat fortunate for once, yet unfortunate, +got one to go home until Monday morning. +But poor Fat! Still the military tailors lag and +now that he has the pass that he has been trying +to get for this last month, he cannot use it, +for he is not properly uniformed to leave the +cantonment, having still just his flannel shirt. +He tried frantically to borrow parts of a uniform +to fit him and while he could find a +pair of breeches that he could get into, a +jacket was lacking, so in disgust, and with a +most unhappy smile, he gave it up and went +over to the Y.M. telephone booth to ask his +mother to come down and visit him over +Sunday. +</p> +<p> +And to-night there are no taps for me, for I +am home once more and writing this at my own +desk. We all came home together and had a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +bully trip and now, after the best dinner I have +eaten in many a day, I shall see a real show at +a real theatre, and sit up as late as I choose +and when I go to bed I will be between clean +sheets again and there will be no officers’ +whistles to wake me in the morning. +</p> +<h2>Sunday:</h2> +<p> +Back again, but back to a sad and very unhappy +barracks. Fat, poor, poor Fat, who felt +downcast because he was not going South, has +gone on a far longer journey. It is the first +tragedy that has come into our life here in our +barracks and with the thoughts of the breaking +up of the big family on the morrow, and the +homesickness, that most of us feel because of +our all too brief trips home, has cast a gloom +over us all. +</p> +<p> +Unfortunate Fat, done out of using his pass +by the slowness of the army tailors, telephoned +home yesterday to have his mother come out to +see him. At train time this morning he was at +the terminal awaiting her arrival. But in the +shifting of the cars back and forth in the yard +an accident happened and Fat, in the way of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +it, was one of its victims. Both his legs were +crushed and he was hurried away to the +hospital. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, his grey-haired old mother arrived +and stood about the terminal hour after +hour wondering why he did not come for her, +and it was not until late this afternoon that +one of the boys in our company thought to go +down and try and find her; which, fortunately, +was not too late to bid her son good-bye. +</p> +<p> +And now we are on the eve of our departure. +As I came through the terminal an hour ago the +troop train, a long line of nondescript coaches, +was being made up. As each car was made +ready it was shunted into line by the ever-grumbling +engine and to-morrow at daybreak +all will be ready for us. Then we will go and +some of us will be sorry, and some of us will +be glad. As for myself, all that I can say is +“Adieu, camp,” and if the place I am bound +for, wherever it may be, holds the charms that +I’ve found here, I’ll be happy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +</p> +<h2>Monday:</h2> +<p> +The mere suggestion of troop movements has +a thrill to it, and we have had a lot of thrills +to-day. +</p> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i029' id='i029'></a> +<img src="images/illus29.jpg" alt="I was alone in line" title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>I was alone in line</span> +</div> +<p> +After a long period of restless waiting, and +good-byes to every one and everything about +the old barracks, came +the command to fall in. +Then in summer uniforms, +and each with a +big blue barracks bag +crowded with personal +belongings, extra uniform, +shoes, blanket +and what not, on our +shoulders, we lined up, +shouted last farewells +and stepped off, down +the barracks street and +out toward the railroad +station. There was no whistling nor singing +for we were all very solemn, and I was lonesome, +for I was alone in line, the only member +of our entire squad to go. +</p> +<p> +We came upon other columns of fellows, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +coming from other companies, bound with us +for this Southern camp. On we marched to the +terminal. Here confusion reigned for a while, +for hundreds of men in khaki were scattered +everywhere, all bending under blue duffel bags, +and wondering what was to happen next. +</p> +<p> +But soon we were entrained, and then with +locomotive whistles hooting, and heads bobbing +from every car window, we said farewell to The +Camp. And with the leave-taking our spirits +seemed to rise, for there was singing and +whistling and horse play once more as the big +cantonment faded from view behind its fringe +of pine woods. +</p> +<p> +Our first impression was that we would +travel all the way to Georgia in the cars we +had been assigned to, but, fortunately, this was +not true, for after a long and tedious trip we +detrained again at a ferry terminal in Brooklyn. +Here, too, was confusion. It was late in +the afternoon, and we were hungry. Every +candy stand, and handy store was patronized +until the officers interfered. Then came the +big, old fashioned side-wheeled ferries, and we +were hustled aboard. +</p> +<p> +Soon the old craft swung out into the river +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +and with churning paddles we headed down +stream. +</p> +<p> +It was just sunset. Far down the bay, beyond +Governor’s Island and Liberty, a great, +fiery red disc was setting in a haze of smoke +and mist from the city, while to our right and +left on the river banks, lights began to twinkle, +and overhead strings of diamonds draped each +gracefully arching bridge. Past the Navy +Yard we swung, with cheers from the crews +of three destroyers in the river. Tugs and +steamers and passing sound night boats greeted +us with whistles, and we lined the rails and +cheered back. +</p> +<p> +Soon we churned under the last of the +bridges and began to make our tortoise-like +way around the Battery. Lights were glimmering +through the violet haze that shrouded the +mass of sky-touching buildings, and in the foreground +were hurrying throngs of men and +women wending their way through Battery +Park toward the ferries. +</p> +<p> +Up the North River, the skyline of the huge +cities changed and grew more impressive, as +one building after another came out of the +mass and stood alone against the blue-black +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +Eastern night sky. Ferries criss-crossing in +the darkness, leaving sparkling trails of light +that danced on the water, crowded close to us +at times, and the mass of men and women +huddled on the windswept decks, cheered us on +our way. Thus did we say our last good-bye +to the big city—and we said it solemnly and +thoughtfully, too, for many of us know that we +are going on the long, long journey and will +never see that skyline again. +</p> +<p> +The crowds in the terminal, as we hurried +from ferry to the railroad yard, cheered us, too, +and men rushed out to shake hands with us and +crowded cigarettes and cigars into our pockets +as we marched on. +</p> +<p> +We had been told that the Red Cross would +feed us. It did, to the extent of a single sandwich +and a cup of coffee, hastily snatched as +we wended our way through the railroad yard +to the train. +</p> +<p> +Long tourist sleepers are our lot. They +stood on a siding, dimly lighted with a single +candle at either end of the car when we climbed +into them and were assigned to our seats. We +are settled now, and rolling swiftly across +Jersey. Lights have been turned on, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +interior of the car looks very strange with the +big blue duffel bags swinging from every hook +and swaying as the train rounds each curve. +But we are all very quiet, and many of us are +thinking. We are all homesick that is certain, +and hungry, too, and wondering about the +future. +</p> +<h2>Tuesday:</h2> +<p> +We are rolling through Virginia into the +sunset. +</p> +<p> +For twenty hours we have been crowded into +these cars, and we are cramped and tired, but +feeling happier with all. Two to a berth, we +tried to sleep last night. But sleep was impossible. +I was up most of the night, standing +at the upper end of the car looking out the +window, while my new-found bunkie tried hard +to get in a few winks. He wasn’t successful. +</p> +<p> +At midnight we ran through a little station +called Brandy, and there in a pounding rainstorm, +under the light of a smoky, yellow oil +lamp, stood a solitary soldierly-looking figure, +a boy, bare-footed and with head uncovered and +his rain-soaked cap held over his heart in a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +salute. He alone had been watching for the +troop train. +</p> +<p> +Sometime after daylight, at Charlottesville, +our train stopped for water. All signs of the +rain had cleared, hundreds of boys, black and +white, and men and women swarmed to the +station to greet us. Our canteens were passed +out of the windows for water, and hot coffee +and thick sandwiches of home-made bread and +jelly and delicious ham were given to us by a +committee of very old women who had been up +since long before daylight awaiting our arrival. +Rations were served to us after we pulled out +of the station, consisting of bread and hard +crackers, and a can of tomatoes and a can of +beans for every six men. +</p> +<p> +By way of diversion we began to play poker +for the beans, and a pair of jacks left me breakfastless, +except for the coffee and sandwich I +was fortunate enough to get at Charlottesville. +And that is all I have had since seven o’clock +and it is now half-past four. +</p> +<p> +At one station along the line, where we laid +over for a few moments, several fellows, acting +as Sergeants, were sent out to buy food for our +company. But the train pulled out without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +them. Goodness knows where they are now, +but the saddest part of it is that they didn’t +bring back the eats. +</p> +<h2>Wednesday:</h2> +<p> +We are travelling through a land of gold and +red and green, with huge dabs of white marking +the cotton fields. And we are hungry no longer. +</p> +<p> +At Cornellia the train stopped for half an +hour, and the fellows, all but famished, made a +wild rush for the door, and sweeping aside such +obstructions as angry Sergeants took the town +by storm. About seven hundred soldiers descended +upon it, and bought everything in the +eating line that they could possibly find, even +to whole cheeses, huge stalks of bananas, and +cases of honey. We ate, and we flooded the +town with money. Never has Cornellia seen +such a busy half-hour in its history, and never +did the stores do such a tremendous business. +</p> +<p> +We held up the troop train while we satisfied +our appetites. But what of it! We are happy +now, with tight belts and plenty of cigarettes +to smoke, so why worry! +</p> +<p> +Never in my life have I seen so many negroes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +They swarm about the train at every stop +we make, chalk their initials on the cars (as +every one else has done) sing songs, cheer and +just bubble over with enthusiasm. Last night, +while our train was on a siding, an old fellow +somehow got inside the car and did a wild buck +and wing dance in the aisle for pennies that +were tossed from every bunk. And this morning +another old fellow, with a bag of cotton on +his back, came a little too close to the windows +of the troop train. Eager hands seized the bag +and pulled it from his shoulders, and presently +the cotton was being distributed among the men +as souvenirs. +</p> +<p> +And now we are only twenty miles from +Atlanta, and the fellows are beginning to pack +up their belongings. Some are trying hard to +shave in a crowded wash-room, for the long +train ride has left us all appearing a little the +worse for wear and we want to enter our new +home as presentable as possible. +</p> +<p> +I wonder what this new home will be like? +Camp X is the cantonment and I am told that +it is bigger than the place we left, but if it is +half as pleasant we will be satisfied. +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Conscript 2989, by Irving Crump + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSCRIPT 2989 *** + +***** This file should be named 36832-h.htm or 36832-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/8/3/36832/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Conscript 2989 + Experiences of a Drafted Man + +Author: Irving Crump + +Illustrator: H. B. Martin + +Release Date: July 24, 2011 [EBook #36832] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSCRIPT 2989 *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: I summoned "Local Board 163" in Court Martial +proceedings] + +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - + + CONSCRIPT 2989 + + EXPERIENCES OF A DRAFTED MAN + + ILLUSTRATED BY + H. B. MARTIN + + NEW YORK + DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY + 1918 + +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - + + COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY + DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. + + Service Flag Design on Cover Patented November 6, 1917 + + Reproduced by Permission of Annin & Co., Flag Makers, New York + +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - + + TO + MY MOTHER AND FATHER + + and every other Mother and Father, who spend hours wondering about + the welfare of their son, this book is dedicated. And with it comes + the assurance that life in the big cantonment contains a full + measure of real happiness, and that all hardships are mitigated by a + sense of humor which develops even in the worst of pessimists. We + are contented, for to compensate for the absence of you and all that + you mean, comes the knowledge that we are doing everything that + brave men and women, the world over, would have us do at times like + these. We are doing a man's work and by the token of the service + flag in your window you should know that the days of patched + trousers, darned stocking, of toy fire engines, play soldiers, and + noisy drums, were not spent in vain. + +- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - + + + + +CONSCRIPT 2989 + + + + +Thursday: + + +Once when I was an enthusiastic freshman (it seems ages ago) I joined a +Latin society that had for its inspiration the phrase, _forsan haec olim +meminisse juvabit_. + +All I can remember about the society is the motto, and there is nothing +particularly pleasant about the recollection, either. But somehow +to-night that fool phrase comes back to me and makes a pessimist of me +right off. I wonder how pleasant these things are going to be and +whether I will want to remember them hereafter. Perhaps I won't have +much choice. I'll probably remember them whether I want to or not. +Already my first eight hours of active service as Conscript 2989 have +some sharp edges sticking out which I am likely to remember, though many +of them are far from pleasant. + +I am now truly a member of the army of the great unwashed and +unwashable--no, I take that back. They are washable. I saw a grizzly old +Sergeant herding four of them out to the washroom this evening. Each of +them carried a formidable square of yellow soap and a most unhappy +expression. But the Sergeant looked pleased with his detail. + +Never in my wildest flights of fancy can I picture some of these men as +soldiers. Slavs, Poles, Italians, Greeks, a sprinkling of Chinese and +Japs--Jews with expressionless faces, and what not, are all about me. I'm +in a barracks with 270 of them, and so far I've found a half dozen men +who could speak English without an accent. Is it possible to make +soldiers of these fellows? Well, if muscle and bone (principally bone) +is what is wanted for material, they have got it here with a vengeance. +But, then, from the looks of things they have been doing wonders and +they may make creditable soldiers of them at that. Goodness knows, they +may even make a soldier out of me, which would be a miracle. Here's +hoping. + + + + +Friday: + + +I only need to glance back over the page I wrote last night to see how I +felt. This conscripting must have gotten under my skin a little deeper +than I thought. I'll admit I was homesick, and I guess it made me a +little testy. I think I really should tear that page out and begin over. +It isn't exactly fair, and, besides, it doesn't fulfil the function of a +diary, anyway, which, I take it, is a record of events and things--not a +criticism of everybody in general and an opportunity to give vent to +disagreeable feelings. + +[Illustration: Never in my wildest flights of fancy can I picture some +of these men as soldiers] + +From a "close-up" view yesterday may have seemed like a trying day, but +to-night it looks a lot different and a lot more interesting. I must +confess that all the "good-byes," and the bands, and the weeping mothers +and sweethearts, and the handshakes, and the pompous old turtles (who +dodged the draft in the Civil War or bought substitutes) who slapped you +on the back and told you how they wished they were young again, along +with the arrival of the "Kaiser Kanners," who unquestionably were +"kanners" of another variety, and the parade and the Home Guard and the +dozen and one "Comfort Kits" that every one handed you, and the mystery +of what was to come, and the scared look on every one's face, including +my own, and the vacant feeling in the pit of one's stomach, superinduced +by sandwiches and coffee, fudge, oranges and chocolates in lieu of a +real meal, did get on my nerves. + +[Illustration: Every one of them had a fiendish grin on his face] + +But, hang it, when I look back we got a great farewell, at that. And the +local Board did things up mighty well. I find myself possessed of a +razor, razor strop, wrist watch, two pocket knives, unbreakable mirror, +drinking cup and a lot of other things that I never expected to own or +need. I haven't the remotest idea where many of them came from. + +Then there was that long, almost never ending train ride, which seemed +to be taking me on an unbearable distance from the place I really felt I +belonged. + +And the arrival; all I saw when I tumbled off the train were thousands +of unpainted buildings and millions of fellows in khaki, and every one +of them had a fiendish grin on his face as he shouted: "Oh, you rookey. +Wait, just wait; you'll get yours! When they bring on the needle. Oh, +the needle." + +I had a vague idea of what the "needle" might be, but it wasn't pleasant +to hear about it from every one I met. But I guess there were a lot of +fellows who were not quite certain what this threatening "needle" was. +Foolishly two of them asked one of the Sergeants who met us at the train +and what they heard in reply to their queries made them paler than they +were before, if that were possible. Thereafter, for the rest of the +afternoon and evening, the "needle" was the subject of earnest +conversation among us all, and the doubts and misgivings about that +instrument of torture, coupled with a thoroughly good case of +homesickness on the part of every one of us helped to make a pleasant +(?) evening. And that most of us worried until far into the night is +certain. I know I did, and the Italian on my left cried himself to +sleep, and didn't try to hide his unhappiness either. Oh, it was a +delightful evening, all things considered. + +Forty-seven of us, all from my own district, came down together, and +while we remained in one group there was a measure of consolation to be +had for us all. But our hopes that we would stay together at camp were +dashed immediately we got off the train. In fact we were so thoroughly +split up that I managed to get into a squad composed entirely of +foreigners, and I'm still with them. But the prospects of a change are +excellent. + +Quite as docile as sheep, and just as ignorant, we were marched down one +camp street after another. My friends of foreign extraction, with due +regard for anything that looked like a uniform, saluted every one that +passed, and they were tolerably busy until we were halted outside of our +present abode, a big two-story, unpainted barracks building. + +Here mess kits were served to each of us, and though we did not know the +combination that unlocked the mysterious looking things, we were glad to +get them, because they added so much to the dozen and one things we were +already carrying. Then, completely smothering us, came two tremendous +horse blankets and a comforter. Those comforters were everything their +name implies. Not only did they afford warmth, but amusement as well. +They ranged in shades from baby blue and pink to cerise and lavender, +and some one with a sense of humour must have distributed them. The +stout, pudgy, black-haired Italian to my left reposes under the +voluminous folds of a beautiful pink creation, and across the room sits +a huge Irishman, with hands as big as hams and shoulders of a giant, +with a baby blue comforter wrapped about him. Mine is a bewitching old +rose. But, believe me, it's there with the quality if it isn't much on +looks. I found that out last night. + +Then, after the Sergeant showed us where we bunked and where we could +expect to find something to eat about supper time, every one left us +severely alone, which was mostly what we wanted, because we all had a +lot on our mind between homesickness and that blessed "needle." But +there was some work to do, such as stuffing mattresses with hay, +sweeping out the barracks and similar occupations until bed time. + +[Illustration: A baby blue comforter wrapped about him.] + +Some one, who had evidently heard some weird tales about the punishment +meted out to those who overslept at camp, brought an alarm clock along +with him, and the blooming thing went off at 4 A.M. Of course we got up, +switched the lights on over head, and proceeded to get dressed with that +resigned now-what-are-you-going-to-do-with-us air. + +But dressing was interrupted by a string of the most beautiful cusses I +ever heard, coming downstairs just in advance of a mighty mad looking +Sergeant: + +"Who in ---- tarnation bow-wows has got that ---- alarm clock? Pitch it out +the ---- window, and git back to bed." + +It went and we went. But that's as far as we could go. Thoughts of the +"needle" and other forms of torture which we were to face in a few short +hours kept most of us awake until a quarter after five, when every +officer in camp began to blow letter-carrier whistles. Then we all got +up and were introduced to some physical exercises guaranteed to stretch +every muscle in our makeup. I took a cold shower bath after mine, and +was the object of interest of the entire barracks. Great stuff (I mean +the shower). + +Most of us might have been tolerably happy after that, if it hadn't been +for the fact that every man in uniform made some evil suggestion about +the "needle." And when they saw us all, white and corpsey looking and +more or less unsteady on our legs, line up in front of the barracks and +march off under our Second Lieutenant, the groans and sorry faces they +feigned were enough to make one's blood run cold. And then we got the +"needle." + +[Illustration: An alarm clock went off at 4 A.M.] + +I, for one, was disappointed, and so were most of the rest of us. But +there were a few who didn't give themselves a chance to be disappointed. +They promptly fainted: not because of the injection but because of the +state of their nerves which they all admitted afterward. There were a +few things about the examination calculated to scare a man to death such +as the question: "In case you are shot and killed to whom do you wish +six months' pay to be sent?" Many of us stammered a bit before +answering. + +[Illustration: Jabbed at the iodine mark and pulled the trigger] + +After that we stripped, lined up and started on our way. Then measured, +marked and finger-printed, we arrived before a physician who stamped a +quarter section under the left shoulder blade with a sponge covered with +iodine, while another one scratched the skin on our upper arm to mark +the acreage to be covered by a vaccination. We moved on to two more +physicians, and while one dug a hunk out of our arm and inserted vaccine +in place of the skin removed, the other man, with a villainously long +hypodermic, jabbed at the iodine mark and pulled the trigger. And now, +by George, if any one else around here tries to kid me into worrying +about anything at all, I'm going to talk back proper. They sure had me +scared stiff and I'll admit it. Why, hang it, I would rather have had +typhoid than face that "needle" before I really knew what it amounted +to. But here I am, with germs variously estimated at from 15,000 to +250,000 circulating around inside of me, due to said "needle," and aside +from a little wooziness in the head, and a sore shoulder, I'm quite +contented and ready to turn in. Good-night. + + + + +Saturday: + + +The serum injections of yesterday produced some queer, and in one case +unfortunate, results. Last night after taps were sounded and lights were +out, I lay awake a long time in spite of the fact I was very tired. + +Couldn't understand it, and my arm and back were as sore as could be. +Hour after hour wore on, and I couldn't get to sleep. Some did, however, +and I had a regular frog's chorus of snores to keep me company. I became +a veritable specialist in snores and wheezes and grunts. Every time I +heard a new variety I formed mental pictures of the men who probably +made them. + +Then the chorus was interrupted by some one not far from me who called +out mournfully: "Oh, my back, my back! The needle!" Then in sharper +tones: "Count off. 1-2-3-4." I wondered what horrors his overwrought +nerves were causing him to dream of. + +But when I did get to sleep I slept soundly, certainly, for they told me +this morning that one chap had become seriously ill, and had been +carried from the barracks to an ambulance and whisked away to the +hospital sometime during the small hours of the morning. It seems that +he had an excess of germs circulating around inside of him, due to the +fact that he did not know enough to move on after the doctor had given +him the first injection, and the physician, looking only for the nearest +iodine spot, shot him twice in the same place. + +However, I am reasonably certain I'll sleep to-night all right, for I've +been pulling stumps all day, or rather during the time I wasn't learning +to recognize my right foot from my left, and a few other things that +every man thinks he knows until some one takes the pains to expose his +ignorance. Oh, I have the qualities of a really capable soldier in me--if +some one can find them. As an infantryman I'm a much better stump +puller. I proved that this afternoon. I have a beautiful double handful +of blisters, not to mention a ruined suit of clothes and hopeless shoes, +to my credit in this war of exterminating the Hun. I hope we get +uniforms soon, because if we don't, I'll be going about clad in my old +rose comforter and some summer underclothes. + +Stump pulling is rough on clothes, but it certainly is an appetite +builder. I've discovered already that it is good policy to be among the +first on line with a mess kit, then if you can bolt your beef a-la-mode +fast enough, and get outside and wash up your kit, you stand a good +chance of joining the last of the line, thereby getting a second +helping. Indeed, several fellows have it down to such a science already, +that they get three helpings before the cook begins to say things. + +The barracks is beginning to look picturesque. The atmosphere of a +western mining camp, arranged for stage purposes, prevails. The +Italians, swarthy-faced, heavy-featured fellows, for the most part, +gather in little groups, smoke villainous pipes and play cards +incessantly, whenever they are allowed much time in the barracks. Our +Semitic friends linger in the vicinity of the door that leads to the +mess hall and kitchen, especially about meal time. And their mess kits +are always handy. Nicknames have already become common, and we have +among us such worthies as Fat, Doc, Peck's Bad Boy, Toney, Binkie, +Shortie, Shrimp, Simp and Pop. The last name has been applied to me, +inspired, no doubt, by the suggestion of baldness aloft. + +[Illustration: Italians gather in little groups] + + + + +Sunday: + + +Didn't sleep much last night, for some reason. Think I was too tired. +This is the third night I've lost time. Beginning to feel it now. But no +one else seemed to sleep well either, or at least they didn't go to +sleep right off. Lights out at ten and all supposed to be "tucked in." +Then came various remarks from the darkness; choice, unprintable remarks +about the Kaiser, the Government, the Sergeant, certain Corporals, who +doubtless heard all their well-wishers had to say, but could not +identify the speakers. Indeed, it struck me that the fellows had hit +upon a choice way of telling certain non-coms what they thought of them, +without the possibility of getting in bad. Then arguments started in the +darkness, and the vocal combatants were urged on by catcalls and +encouraging yells from various sections of the unlighted room, and +presently shoes started flying. + +About that time the Top Sergeant upstairs woke up, and decided to +investigate. Silence fell in the big room when the stairs, creaking +under his weight, gave warning that the crusty old veteran of fifteen +years' service with the Regulars was on his way down. + +[Illustration: The Top Sergeant made the round of the cots] + +The door opened and a pocket flashlight began to travel from cot to cot. +But strangely enough every one was slumbering contentedly, and some even +snoring. The Top Sergeant made the round of the cots, reached the door +and "doused his glim." + +Then with a most impressive introduction of profanity he remarked that +"The next ----, ----, son-of-a-bandmaster, who started anything would spend +the rest of the night out on the porch in his underclothes," whereupon +some wag from the darkness replied: "Put t' Kaiser out there, he started +it." While others sweetly remarked: "Good-night Ser_geant_." "Pleasant +dreams, dear." "Come kiss me good-night." and "Don't forget to tuck us +all in." + +But things eventually subsided and I dozed off, only to be awakened +later by some one kissing me on the cheek. It was startling to say the +least, and I sat up. I thought perhaps the Sergeant had come back to say +good-night. Then it happened again, only this time on my hand, and I +heard an eager little whine, and a sniff-sniff-sniffing that told me +plainly a dog was beside my cot. + +I chirped encouragingly and up he came. Then he dived between the +blankets and burrowing deep worked his way down to the foot of my cot. +Evidently he had slept in army cots before. All my efforts to dislodge +him were futile and I knew that unless I got up and unmade my bed he +would not come out. So I left him, and he in gratitude kept my feet +warm. + +This morning he appeared at reveille, waking me up with his frantic +efforts to dig himself to light again and kissing me good-morning, by +way of showing his appreciation. He was just a plain yellow dog, with a +lop ear and a habit of wagging all over when he could not get enough +expression in his stump of a tail. Attached to a strap that he wore in +place of a collar was a tag on which was scrawled: "Presented to Local +Board No. 163--Hold the fort for we are coming." I concluded that if they +held onto the fort, when they arrived, as well as they held onto their +dog it wasn't worth while having them come at all. + +"Local Board No. 163" stood guard on the foot of my bed, or rather, sat +guard, until I got dressed, and although he created no end of interest +among the rest of the fellows in the room, who whistled and called to +him, he refused to leave his new-found "bunkie." He just sat tight. He +even stayed when I got up to go, but he looked at me with a most +reproachful air, as if to say, "I think a lot of you even though you do +want to leave me." + +He remained after every one had left the room and when I returned an +hour later to get my mess kit for breakfast, he was still there. + +But the rattle of mess tins must have suggested something to him for +when I got up to go this time he was right beside me, and he even braved +the crush at the mess-hall door to stick near me. + +That dog never had so much to eat in all his young life as he got for +breakfast that morning. First he visited our Japanese cook, who liked +him and proved it by giving him a piece of meat. Then he visited the +kitchen police, who found something for him, after which he made the +rounds of the mess tables, coming back to me actually bloated with food. +He looked up at me and I'll swear he grinned and tried to say: "This is +the life--eh, Ol' Top?" + +"Local Board No. 163" has already become a favourite, but with all his +petting from his many well-wishers, he seems to want to call me Boss. +He's on the cot beside me now as I write, snoring with disgusting +impoliteness, but I guess, being just a plain yellow dog, he don't know +any better. + +This has been a day of visitors, and little work. Early this morning +they began to arrive. I never saw so many motor cars anywhere, except at +football games, or the races. And girls; thousands of them, and pretty, +too. But shucks, I'm outclassed. In fact I began to feel like my dog +to-day. I'll admit it was pretty soft for the fellows who had uniforms, +but for the poor tramps like myself, who still wear their civilian +clothes (or what is left of them, which isn't very much all told) it was +sort of a lonesome day. + +[Illustration: Pretty soft for the fellows who had uniforms] + +Then there were the lucky fellows who had passes to leave camp. They +looked fine, tramping down the road toward the station. Of course they +were all uniformed; they are not allowed to leave camp unless they are. + +But "Local Board No. 163" and I take consolation in the fact that +perhaps next Sunday we will be all spick and span in a nice new uniform, +and then we'll strike for a pass, too, and go home and swagger about a +bit ourselves. + +Feeling delightfully tired and sleepy; and I know I'll "press some of +the creases out o' my blankets" to-night. This place seems almost +comfortable and homelike now, and the men--well I've changed my original +opinion of them considerably. They all (or most of them) have their +hearts in the right place, and there aren't so many muckers as I thought +there might be. In fact I'm beginning to like things mighty well; really +enjoying myself. Only, hang it, I think I'm getting a good case of +hives. Haven't been afflicted thus for about five years. If they keep up +I'll report to the hospital shortly. "Come on 'Local Board No. 163' +we'll turn in." + + + + +Monday: + + +Several things of importance happened to-day. For one thing we got some +clothes. I say _some_ clothes advisedly, for I'm not all clothed yet, +being minus such important articles as an undershirt, socks and shoes. +But those I brought from home, though sanctified and made holey by +arduous labours in other fields, will do for the present. I possess a +pair of winter breeches and a summer coat, but what matters that. It is +sufficient to know that they fit, which is not the case in several +instances, notably in that of friends Fat and Shrimp, who, I have +learned, were not optimistic from the first about being fitted properly. +It seems that from years of experience they have both learned never to +expect to be fitted anywhere, anyhow. Fat's shirt covers him with an +effort, but that is all. He can't find a shoehorn with which to get into +his breeches. As for Shrimp: his belt is pulled tight about his chest +and the sleeves of his tunic are rolled up to where his elbows should +be, only to disclose the tips of his fingers. + +But I must confess to a grave error right here. It startled me this +evening at retreat. Indeed, several things startled me this evening at +retreat, including my fast developing case of hives. + +[Illustration: His belt is pulled tight about his chest] + +A few days ago I made some rather boorish and very sarcastic remarks +about the possibilities of ever making soldiers out of the men I found +myself among. I humbly take it all back and eat mud by way of apology. +Khaki, a campaign hat and a shave, together with a certain amount of +training in how to stand up straight and step off correctly, have made a +vast difference. Why, hang it, I'm mighty proud to belong to this +company. Jews, Italians, Poles, etc., all look like fighters; act like +fighters; and a lot of them are fighters, too. Why they are soldiers +already, and glad of it. Which leads me to state quite modestly the +surprising fact that I think I am nearly a soldier, too, and gol-dinged +set up about it. Honestly we looked fine this evening. What if there +were a few misfits? A process of barter and exchange has already +eliminated a great deal of that (save in the cases of Fat and Shrimp, +who have gone back to civilian clothes until special uniforms are built +for them) and when we lined up and snapped to attention while the band +over on Tower Hill played "The Star Spangled Banner" and the old flag +came slowly down, we looked like real soldiers every inch. We knew it, +too, and I'll bet there wasn't a prouder company in the entire camp. + +[Illustration: Back to civilian clothes until a special uniform is +built] + +Of course, I had to gum up the ceremony. But I guess I'll pay for it +to-morrow. Here's how it happened: + +We've been drilling, drilling, drilling, all day to-day, drilling with a +vengeance, and now we can do squads right and right front into line with +as much pep and vigour as a company of Regulars. Our Sergeant said so, +which is some admission for the old moss-back to make. Of course, we +were tired. I was about ready to drop in my tracks when five o'clock +came, which is time for evening parade or retreat; a very impressive +ceremony by the way. My hives had been bothering me all day, and every +time we were at ease, I got in some likely scratches in itchy places. + +One beautiful lump developed right under my arm just at five o'clock. +Holy smokes, how it did itch! It was just as if something had staked an +oil claim right there and wasn't losing any time about drilling a well. +Of course, standing at attention a chap can't scratch, at least he's not +supposed to--but I did. I tried to show extreme fortitude. I stood and +stood and stood, and the darned thing kept boring and boring and boring. +Then when the Lieutenants had their backs turned and stood at salute +while the flag came down, I took a chance and scratched. + +That First Lieutenant of ours either has eyes in the back of his head or +else the Sergeant is a tattletale. Anyhow, after the ceremonies and +before we were dismissed, I was commanded to step out, whereupon I was +given a most beautiful call down, after which I said, "thank you, sir" +to a detail as kitchen police, for the next week to come starting +to-morrow. + +When I got back here to my barracks the first thing I did was to peel +off my shirt and look for that hive. I caught him. And then the whole +terrible plot to get me detailed as kitchen policeman was revealed. +"Local Board No. 163" has fleas; or, rather, he had 'em. I've got 'em +now--no, wrong again. I got rid of them, or I hope I did. + +[Illustration: I picked him up in one hand and a cake of yellow soap in +the other.] + +Upon making the hideous discovery, I summoned "Local Board No. 163" in +court martial proceedings. He was guilty; I could see it by the way his +spirit sagged in the middle when I began to cross-question him. I picked +him up in one hand and a cake of yellow soap and a towel in the other, +and we proceeded toward the shower baths. Bur-r-r-r but that water was +cold. "Local Board No. 163" didn't enjoy it either, but I could with +justice assure him that this form of punishment hurt me as much as it +did him, and what is more I am likely to suffer a heap worse to-morrow. + +"Local Board No. 163," you sleep _under_ the bed to-night. + + + + +Tuesday: + + +Too blasted tired to write to-night. I did a whole winter's work this +morning. Shovelled nine tons (almost) of coal into the coal bin, as a +starter. Then peeled a sack of potatoes, scrubbed an acre of floor and a +half-acre of table tops and benches, washed twenty ash cans, and other +kitchen utensils and--oh, I'm too tired now, think I'll wait until +to-morrow. + +"Local Board No. 163" sleeps _out on the porch_ to-night. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +Still kitchen policing. Yesterday I thought I had pulled some job when I +peeled an ash can full of potatoes, but that was nothing. To-day I got a +better one. I had to peel the same amount of potatoes, only they were in +a washboiler this time. Yes, right off the fire. I can't see why the +Government has to serve potatoes with the jackets off anyway. Why don't +they let the men peel them? They are just as well able to do it as we +are. If some one ever wants to invent a choice way of punishing +refractory prisoners in jail I suggest they send said refractors into +the kitchen and give them the gentle job of peeling hot potatoes, by the +washboilerful. + +I have a side partner on the kitchen police. His name is O'Flynn and he +runs into even better luck than I do. To-day he shared the job of +peeling "hot ones" with me. Yesterday while I had the little task of +peeling 'em raw, he was handed the nice detail of attending to twelve +pounds of onions; a tearful occasion, until some one with a conscience +suggested that he get a bucket of water and peel them under water. +O'Flynn got the water, with the remark that if he waited just a little +longer the onion pan would have been full of tears, which he assumed +would have served just as well. + +O'Flynn is kitchen policing because he tried to come into the barracks +after taps. Lights out at ten and O'Flynn arrived about 2 G.M. He +avoided the fire-guard successfully and went around to the back of the +barracks. There he jimmied a window with his pocket knife and got it +opened, only to have it fall on his neck when he was about half-way in. +By way of exercise he put his elbow through it. Then to add to the +situation he found himself in the darkened mess hall instead of the +dormitory, and the noise he made when he knocked over several benches +naturally grated on the Sergeant's nerves. Said Sergeant arrived in the +hall in his union suit about the time O'Flynn had untangled himself, +and, after cussing him out to perfection, he handed the Irishman a week +at kitchen policing. + +"And now," said O'Flynn, "t' next time I come in through t' windey, I'll +stay out." + +A week of this and I'll be able to qualify as a first rate housekeeper +for a lumber camp. Already I can lay down a few very necessary rules +which the average housewife will appreciate, as for instance:-- + +1. Never take it for granted that a man has only one appetite. We have +two hundred and seventy men here, but they carry around an aggregate of +six hundred appetites. + +2. Never plunge your hands into an ash can full of greasy water without +first removing your wrist watch. + +3. Never attempt to mop up after your men folk. Just turn the hose on, +lash the nozzle to a convenient table leg and walk away and forget about +it. + +4. In carrying out a pan full of hot ashes never grab the handle. Thrust +a stick through it, it saves the temper and the floor. + +5. Never let any one kid you into trying to take the black off the +kitchen pans with sapolio, rather throw the pans away. + +[Illustration: Never let anyone kid you into trying to take the black +off the kitchen pans] + +Delightfully brief and entertaining job, that of removing the black from +ash cans that are used to cook soup in. Our Mess Sergeant, the pirate, +noticed that for about three seconds during this afternoon I wasn't +doing anything in particular, so he gave me a cake of sapolio and a mop +and told me to get busy and shine up the outside of the pots and pans +and get all the black off. I went to it and stuck--until our Jap cook, +the slant-eyed angel, came in about two hours later and told me the +honourable ash cans always got blacked up again so what's the use; and +anyhow he wanted to use the mop. I almost kissed him. + +Thank goodness the coal shovelling is all over with. Finished it +yesterday. To-day during my moments of leisure I split a few cords of +kindling wood and carried it into the kitchen, but I like splitting wood +better than heaving coal when it comes to making a choice. + +I've been very popular with "Local Board No. 163," since I've been in +the kitchen. Honestly, if that dog had intelligence enough, I could +almost believe that he induced that flea to start this dirty work, for +he's the only one in the whole company who has benefited by it. He hangs +around the galley all the time and is waxing fat, prosperous and greasy; +greasy because he got in the way of some dishwater that was being +emptied out the back door. And now I'll have to give him another +scrubbing before we turn in, or he'll be crawling in under my blankets +again. + +Strange I haven't received any letters yet. Some chaps are lucky. +Letters seem to make a big difference in things, even if it's only +listening in on some other fellow's. Every one reads letters out loud so +that we can all enjoy them, for letters, no matter whom they are from, +are real events here and one always gets a sinking feeling when he +discovers there aren't any for him. + + + + +Thursday: + + +Real luck at last. No more kitchen policing, thank goodness. It all +happened thus: + +About the time we had cleaned up the remains of breakfast and I was +getting ready to turn out for "settin' ups," along comes the Captain +with two Lieutenants in tow, all with official looking papers. We lined +up and he looked us all over very critically. Then he read: + +"Any members of this company qualified to fill the following positions, +step one pace," and a list of occupations followed that included +everything from barber to horse trainer and stage carpenter. Quite a few +of us stepped out. About ten of the Italian contingent responded at the +word barber. Fat came forward as stage carpenter, and when he said +artist I stepped three paces forward instead of one and, saluting, +handed him my recommendation for the Camouflage Corps. I knew I wasn't +doing quite the proper thing. But you see we were all young and innocent +of such things as military courtesy, and the Captain overlooked the fact +that one pace didn't mean three, and after he had mentally debated the +question of calling me down in front of the company and had given me the +benefit of inexperience, he read the recommendation. + +[Illustration: Fat was looking for the same barracks] + +The result was that I was ordered to report immediately to the 2-6 +Company, 5-2 Depot Battalion. And with visions of avoiding physical +exercises for about two hours and the preparing of a midday meal, I +needed no urging. I gathered up my bed, hay mattress, blankets and all +and proceeded to find the barracks of the 2-6 Company, 5-2 Depot +Battalion. + +Of course, it had to be located at the other end of the twenty-four +square miles of reservation. But I had company. Fat, loaded down like a +dromedary under bed, blankets, a suitcase and all, was looking for the +same barracks. So we started on our wanderings together, hopeful of +finding our new home before dinner was served. + +We found it. And we found a lot of other fellows looking for the same +home. It seems this Depot Battalion, of which I am now a part, is +composed entirely of specialists, lawyers, linguists, engineers, +artists, architects, carpenters and what not, and just about the time we +were being transferred, other specialists were being selected from other +companies and sent on their way to the Headquarters Divisions of the +various regiments. So our corner of the camp has been quite popular all +day, with men staggering in under loads of personal belongings like a +lot of gipsies looking for new places to hang their O.D's. + +We, I mean Fat and myself, are among a different class of fellows now +and this moving business has changed my opinion of the camp. From a hit +or miss proposition as it first appeared, it has become a very +systematic and well-organized cantonment. It is being worked out like a +gigantic piece of machinery and there isn't any question in my mind now +but that we will all, sooner or later, fit into the places where we will +be able to serve the Government best. Here I have been trying for months +to discover how I can get into the Camouflage Corps, which so far as I +could learn was a mythical organization which no one knew very much +about. Meanwhile, I have been hoping to keep out of the draft army for +fear of being side-tracked and given a bayonet, instead of a paint +brush, to beat the Huns with. + +[Illustration: Material for the camouflage unit] + +And here I am conscripted, and inside of a week singled out as material +for the Camouflage unit, with a nice place waiting for me to stay until +said unit needs me. They are doing it up in really businesslike fashion +and no doubting it. + +But in the shuffle I've lost my dog. He's only been with me a few days +and he's done nothing but get me into trouble all the time, yet I miss +the little beggar. He wasn't about when I gathered up my belongings this +morning, and I haven't had time to look him up all day. Perhaps, before +taps I'll wander down to the other barracks and see if I can find him. + + + + +Friday: + + +Real work began in earnest here this morning, for the officers in +command of the various companies of the Headquarters Divisions, or Depot +Battalions, or whatever it is these particular departments are called, +are determined to rush our drill instructions as fast as possible, +because there is no telling when any one or any number of us will be +needed somewhere else in the U. S. A. or in France, all of which sounds +promising for a quick change. I'm willing, and I sure hope it's France. + +Our day is just filled full of hay-footing and straw-footing and squads +righting and all that sort of thing. I am learning things gradually by +dint of much cussing on the part of our Sergeant, who is also late of +the Regular, and who certainly has as choice a vocabulary as our former +drillmaster. + +We must have a very capable Mess Sergeant in this barracks, for the +meals here are mighty good; better than those we received in the other +barracks. We actually had ice cream and tea this noon, a thing unheard +of in most of the barracks. + +And our cook is a wonder. He's an old cockney sea-dog, who looks like a +regular buccaneer, and he has a parrot, too, whom he calls Jock. Jock +spends most of his time sitting on the edge of the coal bin shrieking +"Lazy Pig." But neither Jock nor his master has a sense of humour; the +cook gets mad when he finds a man trying to ring in a third helping and +when he gets mad, Jock screams: "Lazy pig, lazy pig," and dances up and +down in a frenzy. + +[Illustration: Our cook looked like a regular buccaneer.] + +I went back to the old barracks last night, to find the place almost +filled with new men, all worried looking and pale, and much disturbed +over that first night horror, the "needle." I didn't relieve their +mental anguish a particle, which was most unchristian-like. + +Several of the men remaining from the former company told me that most +of the original company had been split up between the "Suicide Club" +which is the machine gun companies, the transportation division and the +infantry. As for "Local Board No. 163" no one had seen him about. +Possibly he has become disgusted with high-toned individuals who object +to fleas, and has gone off and joined the infantry. Well I wish him +luck. + +I really believe I'm taking a very deep interest in this soldiering +after all. I didn't think I would at first, but now I find I'm watching +the colour of my hat cord with interest. I want to see it lose its +newness and get faded-out looking, like a regular soldier's hat cord. + + + + +Saturday: + + +On the camp calendar, to-day is marked down as a half-holiday, which is +another one of the pleasant little jokes they have down here. It is a +half-holiday. We quit drilling at twelve o'clock. But there is a Sunday +ceremony they have called inspection and sometimes when the Lieutenant +wants to leave camp early on Sunday he decides to hold inspection on +Saturday afternoon. + +About twelve o'clock some one reminds some one else that the +aforementioned ceremony is on the program of weekly events, and thereby +spoils the whole pleasure for the day. At inspection the Lieutenant +saunters through the barracks, inspects the beds and the stacks of +underclothing, socks and similar equipment piled thereon, and if said +underclothing, etc., do not show signs of recent acquaintance with soap +and water, almost anything is likely to happen. + +And, of course, since no one is systematic about doing washing, all the +dirty clothing and extra socks pile up until Saturday, and then on the +half-holiday the scrubbing tables in the rear of the barracks are the +most popular playgrounds. + +The washing process is interesting. Every one lines up and dips into the +same basin of water. Government soap is supplied in quantities, so are +the scrubbing brushes. One lays his jeans and undershirt out nice and +smooth on a long table, pours a basin of water over them, applies the +soap as if it were a holy-stone until the underclothing is covered with +a soft yellow scum. And then he spends the rest of the afternoon trying +to get the soap off. The more lather a chap makes the better washerman +he is, from all appearances. + +The rear of the barracks on a Saturday afternoon looks like a string of +tenement house backyards, with flapping garments hanging from +everything, including the electric light wires, and men in various +degrees of attirement stand around waiting for the garments to get dry. +Oh, you daren't leave them and go off on some other mission while the +wind does its duty. You simply have to stick and keep a careful eye on +everything you own, otherwise:--well it works on the principle that the +man who grabs the most is the best-dressed man for the following week, +and if you are not there to prove ownership you are liable to find a +pocket handkerchief where your undershirt was and the handkerchief isn't +always what it was originally intended to be. + +I did manage to get my wash done and gathered up in time to see the last +ten minutes of a Gaelic football game over on the parade grounds. But +next week I'm going to take the advice of the Sergeant who suggests that +I follow the example of Regular Army men and wash each piece as it +becomes soiled. I wonder if I am systematic enough for that? + + + + +Sunday: + + +No I didn't draw a pass. I've been around camp the whole bloomin' day, +but there were about fifteen thousand lucky fellows who did draw passes. +I saw them going down in groups for every train to the city since four +o'clock yesterday afternoon. But Fat and I seem to be a bit unlucky. +Poor Fat, he has wanted a pass to get home and see his mother ever since +he has been here. But a pass wouldn't do him much good. He hasn't any +uniform yet. Still waiting for the army tailors to get busy. I wouldn't +be surprised if they shipped him to France with no more Government +property than a khaki shirt. We've been consoling each other most of the +day. Fat's a good chap and a mighty likeable fellow. + +It has been a day of rest, however, for all except Giuseppi, the +company's barber. He has done a tremendous business; shaved every one, +from the Captain down. + +[Illustration: Giuseppi's methods are unique and interesting] + +Giuseppi's methods are unique and interesting. Somewhere he found two +planks, which he brought into the dormitory, and, by catching the lower +ends under the iron work of one cot and propping them against the side +of another, he contrived an affair that resembles remotely a steamer +chair. Line forms to the right. Bring your own brush and shaving stick +and do your own lathering for a quick and effective shave. + +I can't guess how many he shaved. The line stretched the length of the +dormitory from breakfast to dinner time. The men dabbed their brush into +a single basin of cold water and moistened their faces while standing in +line. Then as they moved on they soaped and lathered their own faces and +rubbed it in thoroughly. And by the time they reached the plank their +bristles needed only a final application of lather and Giuseppi got busy +with the razor. + +He is a wonder. All he did this morning was strop and shave, strop and +shave, and at ten cents a head--no I mean face--(twenty cents a head, only +no hair cut on Sunday) I guess he made a fair week's wages. As each +victim left the planks, said victim wiped the remaining lather from his +face, ears and nose and applied his own talcum powder. + +Perhaps Giuseppi's business was increased by his announcement: "No shava +for tree days now. To-morrow I getta da needle for twice times. No can +use my arm vara moch." + +Which reminds me that I am scheduled for my second inoculation +to-morrow. + +I have been discovering some of the unknown who are in our midst. +Unearthed a popular song writer (whose income before he adopted the +dollar-a-day job for Uncle Sam was reputed to be $10,000 a year). I +didn't unearth him really. He bobbed up this morning, when several of +the fellows were playing mouth organs, and now, behold, he's organizing +a glee club. Then there is a linguist, who is fresh from the biggest +financial institution in the world where he handled all their French and +Spanish translation work. He has started a class in French which is in +session for an hour every evening. We are all _Parlez vous_-ing with +more or less (mostly more) inaccuracies. But what we lack in accent and +correct pronunciation we make up for in genuine Parisian gestures. Oh, +we're there all right. + +Another of our enterprising members is a well-known landscape gardener, +who, in co-operation with one of our several architects, has organized a +campaign for a "barracks beautiful," all of which doesn't mean very much +to most of us, but gives them a good opportunity to dispose of their +spare time. Our afternoons have been spent in pulling stumps in the +vicinity of the barracks and grading the street and dooryard until now +no one would ever recognize it for the same place. But the landscape +gardener has carried the work a bit further and with the assistance of +several of us, including myself, gone off into the woods and dug up a +score or more of pine and cedar saplings about five feet high. These +have been transplanted in the form of a hedge around our barracks, on +top of a tiny terrace, and they certainly soften the outlines of the +unpainted building and add a touch of that which is lacking in the +vicinity of most of the structures. + +He, the landscaper, has placed whitewashed stones at conspicuous +corners, too, and on either side of our tiny porch he has worked out the +number of the company and the number of the division in concrete +letters, which the camp orderly scrubs industriously every morning to +keep them white and presentable. The job of camp orderly, by the way, is +the worst job a man can be detailed to here, being one degree lower than +kitchen police; and since I know mighty well the rigours of that, I'm +going to steer clear of this other form of punishment, if it is humanly +possible to do so. + +The Sunday crop of visitors flocked to camp as usual to-day and I +entertained several who did not come to see me especially, but who +brought along such delightful lunch that I felt constrained to show them +about and be pleasant to them at least while the lunch lasted. + + + + +Monday: + + +We were excused from drill this morning for the purposes of being shod +and getting our second inoculation. Getting our shoes was the most +interesting and least painful of the two. + +After being shot (in the left arm this time) we proceeded to the Q. M., +where in one portion of his domain shoes were being issued, two pairs to +a man, one pair for work and the other for rest and fatigue. + +Of course, immediately the fitting began the men started to protest that +they were insulted by being given shoes too large for them. But that +didn't disturb the shoe man, who merely told them to mind their own +business and he'd take care of their feet, which belonged to the +Government anyhow. + +[Illustration: Each man was loaded with a fifty pound bag of sand.] + +Standing on a flat surface in stocking feet, each man was loaded with a +fifty pound bag of sand. Then when his feet had spread as much as they +possibly could, measurements were taken from every angle, just exactly +as if the shoes were to be built especially for the foot they were to +adorn. The collection of figures was then gone over, and compared with a +chart, after which two pairs of shoes were found corresponding with the +dimensions covered by number so-and-so. I've forgotten what my number +is, but I will confess that while the shoes are several sizes larger +than I would ever think of buying in a shoe store, I have never had +anything on my feet that gripped my heels and instep and ankles so +firmly and yet allowed me room enough to wiggle my toes around. The +dress shoes and the trench brogans of unfinished leather with half-inch +soles filled with hobs, and steel plated heels, feel more comfortable +than any shoes I have ever owned, and I gratefully accepted the two +pairs issued to me and left for my quarters. + +[Illustration: "I like t' geev da Kais a keek in da face wid-a dose +shoes"] + +On my way up the road I passed an Italian who seemed so pleased with his +new footwear that he just couldn't help exhibiting them to me. "Look," +he said, waving his huge foot, shod with the trench shoes, about +promiscuously, "look ad da shoos. I like t' geev da Kais a keek in da +face wid-a dose shoos. Bet he no smile some more dan." Then he added, by +way of showing his qualifications to muss up the Kaiser, "I belonga to +ah wreckin' crew sometimes when I don't come down here." + + + + +Tuesday: + + +SWEAR; If you can't think of anything else to say, but do it +softly--very, very softly, so no one else but yourself will hear you. + +Thus reads the sign that hangs over the door of the Y. M. C. A. shack, +at the end of our camp street. That's what I call social work humanized. +The Y. M. C. A. here is the most human institution in this big, rawly +human community. It is the thing that puts the soul in soldier as one +chap expresses it. And because it is that way, and because the men feel +at home and have a real time, and can smoke and put their feet on the +table, they think the red triangle is the best little symbol about the +big camp. The "'Sociation" is making thousands of friends every day +among these strapping big, two-fisted fellows who really never knew what +the organization was. It's bully. We all wander over there sometime +during every evening, if it's only to listen to a new record on the +phonograph. + +[Illustration: Our $10,000 a year song writer] + +The shacks (I don't know how many there are, but there must be at least +a dozen of them) are the centres of amusement and entertainment for us +all. And we have some corking concerts and other forms of entertainments +there. I don't think I'll ever forget our $10,000 a year song writer as +he appeared last night, for instance, standing on top of the piano, his +hair all mussed up and his army shirt opened at the throat, singing a +solo through a megaphone. And it was some solo! About fifteen hundred +huskies in khaki stood around and listened to him and joined in on the +choruses. + +Then they have lectures: "Ten Years as a Lumber Jack," "Farthest North," +by a certain well-known explorer; "My First Year of the Big War," and +similar subjects appear on the bulletin boards every other night. +Nothing of the Sunday School variety about that sort of thing. + +And our prize fights! + +I'm all excited yet over the one I saw to-night. It was a whale of a +battle; I mean the last one was, there being several on the program. The +fellows fight for passes to go home on Sunday and the decision is left +up to the onlookers. And if we don't make the scrappers work for those +passes, then no "pugs" ever did work. + +Most of the boxers are former pugilists who have been gathered up in the +draft net, and so long as they can get a chance to put on the gloves +they are just as pleased to be here as anywhere else from all +appearances. But sometimes the scrappers aren't "pugs" at that; just +plain citizens who possibly have been shadow boxing in the secrecy of +their bedrooms for the past ten years and longing for courage enough to +step into the ring with a real fighter and discover how good (or how +bad) they are. They are getting the opportunity here all right, and some +of them are uncovering a likely line of jabs and counters. One +fair-haired youngster downed a mighty pugnacious-looking Italian a few +nights ago. + +But to-night's final was a winner. Three scraps had been pulled off with +real enthusiasm and after the final round, there was a call for more +material, but no one in the crowd came forward to put on the gloves. +There were calls and jeers and all that sort of thing, then suddenly out +from the crowd stepped a soggy-looking, little red-haired fellow. + +Yells of "Yah Redney!" "Hi Redney!" "Good boy Brick Top!" + +Redney blushed considerably and held up his hand for silence. And when +he got it he explained. + +"I ain't a-going to fight no one but our Mess Sergeant. That's what I'm +out here for, and I'll stick here till he comes." + +Calls for Mess Sergeant. He wasn't present. A speeding messenger from +Red's company hurried out through the night to find him. Ten minutes +later, said Sergeant, a soggy-looking chap himself, was brought in and +amid yells from the crowd he stepped inside the ring. He looked once at +Brick Top, then spat on his hands and said: + +"Where's them gloves?" + +Gloves were produced and laced on, then without the preliminary +handshake they squared off and went to it. And what a battle! They +didn't stop for rounds, or time out, or anything. They just ducked and +punched and whaled away at each other until the blood began to spatter +all over and still they kept at it. I don't know what the +misunderstanding between them was and didn't find out, but they sure +meant to settle the thing once and for all. + +And the spectators; they went wild. + +For ten minutes steadily the fighters milled and I never saw a better +slugging match. The Sergeant had had more experience in boxing, that was +certain, but what Red lacked in skill he made up for in hitting power. +Every time his glove met the Sergeant's face it smacked as loud as a +hand clap. + +[Illustration: They didn't stop for rounds, or time out, or anything.] + +Then just when it seemed as if they must be tired out, there was a +sudden clash and a whirl of fists and Redney ducked away and started one +from the floor. It was an uppercut and it found a clean hole between the +Sergeant's two arms, and met him flush on the point of the jaw. He +staggered, tried to fall into a clinch, missed the elusive Redney and +went down with a thump. + +"1-2-3-4-5-6-" counted the referee. + +The Sergeant rolled over and tried to get up. "Don't hold me down; lemme +at him," he said huskily. But no one was holding him down. It was his +refractory nerves. They wouldn't obey his will power. + +"7-8-9-10," tolled off the fateful numbers. Then what a yell went up for +Redney, and Red, almost all in, himself, evidently had satisfied his +grudge, for he went over and helped stand the groggy Sergeant on his +feet. + +And all agreed it was some battle. + +But the Y.M. shacks aren't dedicated to prize fights and swearing and +concerts entirely. They are the nearest approach to home or club life +that most of us come in contact with for weeks at a stretch. The big, +open hearths with their crackling logs are mighty fine places to spend a +pleasant hour or two. Then there are the writing tables, and the reading +rooms with their books and magazines, and the phonographs. + +The other night I saw a great big fellow, with burly fists and a stubbly +beard on his chin (it must have been the night before his bi-weekly +shave, which is as often as most of us can find time--or the inclination +to use a razor) snuggled up close to the phonograph and listening +attentively to the "Swanee River," which he was playing as softly as the +instrument would permit, and now and then he would blow his nose in a +big handkerchief and wipe suspicious signs of moisture from the corners +of his eyes. He was having a regular sad drunk and enjoying every moment +of it. I'll bet he thought he was the most homesick mortal in camp. + +Then there are the telephone booths. Every night there is a line of at +least fifty men waiting patiently for a chance in the booth. At a dollar +a call they ring up the folks in the city and have five minutes' chat +with them, just by way of warding off an attack of homesickness. I've +used the booth five dollars' worth to date. + +These army breeches I'm wearing, I noticed to-night, are very +comfortable. I like the deep, straight pockets in them. I think I'll +have my civilian suit made with those kind of pockets hereafter. But I +haven't gotten over the habit of pulling them up each time I sit down so +that they won't get baggy at the knees. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +Found my dog! + +I was over in another section of the cantonment this morning, for a few +moments between drill and mess call, and there was "Local Board No. 163" +as big as life, trotting along beside a chap I knew. It was Billy Allen. +The dog recognized me and so did Billy and we stopped a while and +compared notes. + +Billy had the worst hard luck story in respect to the Draft of any man I +know. He's an old National Guardsman, having enlisted soon after we left +school together. Spent eight years in the infantry, and went to the +Border. He left the service after he got back and a little later when a +call came for men for the Officers' Reserve Corps he applied and was +accepted, for the second camp. Meanwhile he had registered as a man of +draft age. Then came his call for Officers' Training Camp, where he was +making out famously; so well in fact that he was recommended for the +aero-plane service. + +But the recommendation was as far as he got. The drawing had meanwhile +been made in Washington, he was well up in the list and one fine day he +received a notice to appear for examination. Of course he passed and was +accepted. That yanked him out of the Officers' Reserve and now he's down +here, a private in the "Suicide Club," with Buck Winters, an old +classmate of both of us, his commanding officer. + +I told him about "Local Board No. 163" whom he had dubbed "Mut" because +he looked it. First we were going to match for the dog, but we decided, +after a moment's reflection, to let him choose his master. Billy said +good-bye and walked one way and I walked the other and the dog, after a +moment's hesitation, went with Billy. And so I lost my dog a second +time. I guess he didn't like my cold water treatment for fleas. + +An interesting thing happened here to-day that just shows how vast this +huge cantonment is. The cot next to Fat and two below me has been vacant +ever since we have been here. To-night a chap came in from the barracks +next door, bag and baggage, and took possession of it. Fat made his +acquaintance right off, and the newcomer told him that he had been +transferred to this company about the time we were--a week or so ago--and +since no one told him where to go or where to bunk he went to the +barracks next door and took a cot. + +But he really belonged in here and was a member of our squad, which for +some mysterious reason had always remained a seven-man squad, with the +eighth man assigned to it but never heard from. Every roll call he had +been marked absent, and he had been put down as a deserter and an alarm +sent out for him through the country. At the present moment the New York +police are searching diligently for him. + +[Illustration: I guess he didn't like my cold water treatment for fleas] + +And all the time he has been within a biscuit toss of his proper place. + +Over in the other company he was an outcast, and they didn't know what +to do with him. They were on the point of sending him back to the city +as an interloper when somehow the mistake was discovered and he was +summoned to report over here. The interesting part of it is, that he is +an expert accountant, and his specialty is searching out mistakes that +other people make in the way of misplaced figures and things. + +So far as the police were concerned, he said, he didn't care much, for +the last place they would ever look for him was down here. Speaking of +deserters, I noticed three sets of finger-prints on our bulletin board +which means that three men have taken French leave and they have prices +on their heads, already. + + + + +Thursday: + + +This has been a moist and soggy day. I don't know that I have ever seen +so much rain before in one storm as I have to-day. Before daylight it +began; a perfect downpour, so violent that for reveille we lined up in +the mess hall. None of us ventured out to wash up, but those of us who +missed a cold sprinkle the most had merely to poke our heads out of the +windows for a moment and then reach for a towel. Some wetness. + +The camp is a veritable sea of mud, and those who go outdoors at all do +so to the imminent peril of becoming mired and never returning. From the +mess-hall windows at breakfast we could watch the big heavy motor truck +of the transportation train, skidding and sloshing about in the road, +down which flooded a perfect torrent of muddy rain water. Several of +them became hopelessly stuck in the sticky mud, and their drivers +abandoned them and raced for cover in the Y. M. C. A. shack. Officers +and men everywhere have given up all idea of outdoor work and the camp +streets look forlorn and deserted. They stretch away down the hill to +fade into the misty blur of the rain itself, and on either hand stand +the long, unpainted barracks buildings, with dripping eaves and rain +blowing in sheets from their tinned and tar-papered roofs. Outside, it +is a dismal, deserted-looking cantonment, with scarcely a sign of life, +save now and then a venturesome canine mascot scuttling from one +sheltered spot to another. + +Drilling, of course, is utterly impossible and the nearest approach we +have had to anything resembling military training to-day is a lecture on +sanitation in the mess hall by the First Lieutenant. + +But the rain has not dampened our desires for amusement and as a result +the interior of the sleeping quarters presents, at the present time, a +picture that only a Remington could do justice to. Atmosphere sticks out +all over the place. Army overcoats, tunics, variegated comforters, +blankets, mess kits, sweaters and flannel shirts are hanging from every +peg, and men are sprawled on their cots, in various attitude, some +trying hard to sleep, some writing, one man thoughtfully locating the +notes of a new tune on a mouth organ, while another over in the +corner--an Italian--is the centre of an enthusiastic group, while he plays +doleful things on an old accordion he has smuggled into camp. The air is +blue with tobacco smoke. + +A number of us are writing, including myself, but the chief centres of +interest are the two big poker games and the big crap game down at the +end of the room. + +They are all playing with that oppressive quietness that portends big +stakes. I was startled a while ago upon walking over to the nearest +group to discover eighty dollars, in ones, fives, and tens on the top of +the army cot that served as a table in a single jack pot, and they were +still betting. Our two Regular Army Sergeants are members of one group +and Fat is sitting in at another. From the length of time he has stayed +and the smile on his face, I can only guess that luck is with him for +once. + +But it has failed a lot of others. Now and then a man leaves one game or +the other, looking sort of hopeless. There is always some one to take +his place, however. + +One of these fellows, gone broke, hit upon a happy idea which caused no +end of interest for an hour or two this afternoon. After he had gone +broke he left the game and sat thoughtfully on the edge of his cot for a +while. Then he dug down into his duffel bag under his cot and brought +forth a razor. Speedily he made up some raffle tickets on slips of note +paper and presently, with the razor in one hand and his campaign hat in +the other, he started through the room selling chances on the razor at a +dime a chance. The raffle was held over in our corner, and one lucky +chap got the razor, easily worth two fifty, for a single dime and the +erstwhile owner, with five dollars worth of change in his pockets, +returned to the game. + +That started the raffle bug, and presently a wrist watch was put up, +then another razor of the safety variety, a fountain pen, an extra hand +knitted sweater which some one had luckily acquired, several boxes of +crackers which every one took a chance on at a cent a chance and a +variety of other things. But the crackers were the most popular and that +helped one ingenious and venturesome chap to evolve a money-making +scheme. + +In the height of the rainstorm, he was seen to don his slicker, and +hurry out into the storm. He splashed all the way over to the Post +Exchange (about half a mile) to return a half-hour later with four pies +for which he had paid forty cents each and three dozen boxes of crackers +all in good condition. The crackers went for double their value and the +pies he successfully split up into twelve fair-sized portions which sold +for ten cents each. That trip in the rain netted him nearly seven +dollars he told me, and that seven dollars later on, invested in the +crap game, trebled itself; so, all things considered, he has had a more +or less successful day. + + + + +Friday: + + +It is fast getting home to me now that in spite of the heterogeneous +conglomeration, of races and creeds and languages, the National Army is +going to be the real thing as a fighting force after all. Every one is +keen for the thing now that the first violent attacks of homesickness +have worn off and they are going at their work of becoming soldiers with +a will, except, of course, for a few: the conscientious objectors; and +their life is no merry one. They are mighty unpopular, as numerous black +eyes attest. Every one takes the slightest opportunity to emphasize +their displeasure at the stand these men have taken. And some of them +are going around here under a cloud. For instance, the one in the +Machine Gun outfit who drills in pumps and summer suit but who has the +pleasure of knowing that after his soldiering is all over with, he has +three years to spend in Atlanta or some other Federal jail for little +things he has done and views he has expressed. + +We have one of the breed in our company, a Jew; and he's the most +unpopular man in the outfit, even among those of his own race. All of +this variety, (the "objectors" I mean), who have come to my notice, are +sorry specimens of manhood for the most part and I can't blame an +able-bodied chap for despising them. + +The foreign element is taking hold like real Americans. It is +interesting to get their slant on the whole affair. Many of them didn't +want to come. They had their own ideas of army life, suggested, +doubtless, by tales they have heard of service in the European armies of +former days. But when they were called they came; and behold, when they +arrived and lived through the first days, they were surprised to find +that they still were treated like human beings, had certain indisputable +rights, were fed well and cared for properly and worked under officers +who took a genuine interest in their welfare. This was something most +unexpected. Right off they decided that they were going to get all they +could out of this new life and give in return faithful and honest +service. + +[Illustration: "Make-a me strong, make-a me beeg, an' best-a make-a me +good American"] + +"It's fine, I like it," assured a little Italian friend of mine in the +infantry. "I like it because it help make me spick good English, make-a +me strong, make-a me beeg an' best-a what is, make-a me good American, +jus like-a de boss Lieuten'." + +And in that last sentence, I believe, lies the charm of it all to most +of the foreigners. They have learned that America and things American +are fine and clean and good and their ambition now is to become a real +American "jus like-a de boss Lieuten'." And when they get to be real +Americans, they are going to be proud of the fact and they are going to +fight to prove it; that's certain. + +The camp is still soggy to-day and we have drilled ankle deep in mud. My +feet have been wet from the time I stepped out of the barracks until an +hour ago, when I changed my socks and put on my dress shoes. But shucks, +what appetites we brought back with us from the parade grounds. I never +did care for fish, but I'll be hanged if I didn't eat three helpings of +the creamed salmon and spaghetti to-night. + +A new wrinkle has developed here. We find out what the fellows are going +to have for supper in nearby barracks and if the feed promises to be +better than what we are to have several of us take our mess tins and go +over and stand in line there. The Mess Sergeant never knows the +difference. + + + + +Saturday: + + +Sad news this evening. Only twenty-five per cent. of each company is to +be allowed to go home to-morrow, because of the disorder and general +trouble at the railroad terminal last Sunday. And the twenty-five per +cent. is to be drawn out of a hat. No chance for Fat or me, that's +certain. We're mighty unlucky when it comes to passes and we are laying +odds now that neither of us will get permission to go to the city. +Anyhow, Fat is still in the same predicament. If he does get a pass he +won't be able to leave the camp. + +At the present writing we are all waiting for the mess call. And +immediately after mess the Sergeant will do the drawing of the names for +the passes. If I am not among the lucky ones I'm going to try and--there +goes the mess call! + + + + +Sunday: + + +I am ready to die with a smile on my lips and a great happiness in my +heart, for I've spent one night between clean sheets, on a really soft +bed. I've eaten with a silver knife and fork from real dishes +and--whispered softly--in the privacy of my own home I had a glass of +beer! + +No, I wasn't lucky (neither was Fat) but I think I put something over on +Uncle Sam. + +The passes for the city were drawn for as per schedule and since I was +down at the bottom of the list I was not included in the first +twenty-five per cent. The passes issued read for New York City, and the +men holding them were privileged to leave by certain trains, being +marched down to the station under the watchful eye of the Second +Lieutenant. + +Then, after these men were all away, came the opportunity for the men +who lived near the camp and the men who wanted to visit nearby towns to +apply for leave. This was my opportunity. I applied for thirty-six +hours' leave to visit the town of R----, twenty miles distant, and secured +it. + +Back in the barracks an interesting scene was taking place, scores of +tickets of leave had been handed out to the men, to take the night and +following day off, but to get out of camp they must be able to pass +inspection with perfect and well-fitting equipment, and since all of us +had not our full outfit, we had to hustle around and borrow articles of +clothing that would fit and look satisfactory. I, for instance, have a +full winter uniform except for overcoat (which I have not received) and +tunic, the one I am wearing being a summer coat of cotton and hardly +matching the wool trousers I possess. So I had to join the crowd who +were bartering, exchanging and renting uniforms. And since the first men +to leave had done the same thing to a certain extent, there was not much +desirable clothing left in the barracks. Overcoats were going at a +dollar a day and breeches and jackets for fifty cents each. After a +diligent search I did find a chap who had a winter tunic and summer +trousers and, wonder of wonders, his jacket fit me perfectly. We made an +exchange and I borrowed an overcoat at one dollar for the day, from a +chap who was not leaving camp, and sallied forth. + +Tramping down Twenty-third Avenue (the streets are all named here and +our barracks is on Fourteenth Street and Third Avenue), whom should I +behold but friend Billy, bound in the same direction. He had had the +same inspiration as I and he, too, had a pass for R----. We wandered on +together, but upon reaching the railroad station, our hopes of getting +to our destination were dashed. There were no more trains for R---- until +the morning! + +We wept. But our tears didn't blind us to the fact that there were +occasional machines passing along the highway. So we walked out and +stood there in the moonlight and looked as lonesome and forlorn as +possible. + +And the first machine to come along was a beautiful big Pierce Arrow +limousine, with an old dowager, a pleasant and generous old soul, its +single occupant, save of course the chauffeur. We went to R---- in style; +and, moreover, we went there in a hurry, for with khaki in the machine +the chauffeur assumed that he had the right of way and full permission +to wreck the speed laws. + +At R---- we looked up time tables and discovered that we could get a train +into the city at ten-thirty, which was not so bad. Then, because our +passes really limited us to R----, we concluded that it was only fair to +the Government to at least eat a meal in that town and since we were +both hungry in spite of our recent mess, we searched for a restaurant. + +We found one; a French restaurant, which looked peculiarly deserted. The +door was locked, for some strange reason, yet there were several men in +aprons inside apparently hard at work. We rattled on the door and in a +moment the frowning proprietor came forward. But the frown changed to a +smile when he saw us. It was the khaki. He unbolted the door and, with a +ceremonious bow, welcomed us in, then closed the door and bolted it. + +And then he explained that this was a new restaurant not yet opened for +patronage. He expected to open up in a day or maybe two. But, of course, +he could not turn away two hungry soldiers, never. _Merci non!_ He had +nothing to serve us with, but what were our desires? Express them and he +would send out for the provisions, cook them and serve them. Steak! +Indeed, yes. In twenty minutes we would have a wonderful steak, French +fried potatoes, salad, coffee and ice cream. Jean would attend to it. + +And Jean did. He rustled up the steak and the rest and we alone occupied +the restaurant, and soon were eating the most delicious piece of beef we +believed we had ever put our teeth through. The bill! Nothing; nothing +at all--what?--well if we insist, one dollar each. Thank you! And now here +is a pen and some ink. You will please autograph each bill and behold, +when you return from glorious France, covered with glorious glory, you +should come in and see these two bills--the first money taken in at the +restaurant--framed and hanging there over the desk. And so, I suppose, +the future generation of visitors to R---- will be able to view these +immortal monuments to our--I don't know what, unless it be our khaki +uniforms--hanging there in the French restaurant possibly surrounded by +wreaths as each anniversary of day before yesterday rolls 'round. + +We got the ten-thirty train for the city, and we almost got into trouble +too; or at least I did, for as we hurried into the smoker whom should I +see sitting buried in a magazine but the First Lieutenant of our +Company. Had he made the trip the same way we did? I don't know and, of +course, I didn't ask. We just walked through the car very swiftly and he +never looked up. + +It was fifteen minutes of midnight when I arrived home, let myself in +with my latch key which I have been carrying as a silent reminder of my +former terrifically wild (?) career; routed out the folks, and sat +swathed in bath-robe and dressing-gown until 3 o'clock, just talking. It +was bully. And then I tumbled into my own bed and slept and slept and +slept. I woke up at reveille all right--(it was just daylight)--grinned, +rolled over and slept and slept and slept some more. + +Then I had a real bath in a real tub with real hot water, and a lot of +real things to eat and real cigars to smoke and real friends to talk +with until five o'clock in the afternoon, when I crawled into my +regimentals once more, and went out to meet Billy by appointment. + +Going back via R---- route (which was necessary) curtailed our leave which +really continues until to-morrow morning at reveille, but then we were +very happy; so happy that when we arrived in R---- we chartered a taxi-cab +for the twenty mile drive out here and now I'm nearly frozen through +from the cold wind that blew in at us. And I'm tired, too, but I'm happy +and ready to turn in ten minutes before taps. + + + + +Monday: + + +I'll need no "Melody in Snore Minor" to lull me to sleep to-night, for I +am thoroughly weary. It was intimated a day or so ago that our training +would be hurried a little so that we would be ready for a quick shift at +any time. But hurried doesn't exactly describe it. It looks like an +early fall drive to me. + +We began at the beginning, this morning, and had our squad drills all +over again, and somehow in the juggling about of men to make up our +company formation I managed to get last place in line, and pivot man in +the front rank of the last squad. + +Before to-day I've been in the rear rank and had a screen of front-rank +men to cover up any blunders I might make, but being in the first file +gave me stage fright. And, of course, with the stage fright I +bungled;--forgot which was left and which was right. We began by facing, +and first chance I managed to turn left when the command was right. That +blunder made me more self-conscious. If I had had to talk I'm sure I +would have stuttered. As it was I stammered with my feet. + +Then "About Face." + +I faced about all right, only I pivoted on a stump root that some stupid +had forgotten to dig out. The result was I lost my balance, and made +several movements instead of one before I came to position. + +At drills the Sergeants, who do most of the drilling, are equipped with +sticks about a yard long so that they can poke a rear-rank man in the +back without disturbing the front-rank men, and thus call attention to +blunders. Being a rear-rank man on the about face, I presently felt the +stick poking into my ribs and the command: + +"You step out here." + +I stepped out, and was requested, along with much language, to go up in +front of the company and give a demonstration in the proper method of +"about facing." + +[Illustration: A demonstration in the proper method of "about facing"] + +My self-consciousness fled immediately. I was mad. I wanted to talk +back, and make a few remarks about the Sergeant and the stump and +things. But I suddenly thought of a tour of kitchen police and +restrained myself. Instead I about faced with such energy that the +Sergeant knew I was boiling inside, and being a decent sort of a chap, +he sent me back to the ranks after a couple of demonstrations, instead +of keeping me out there for fifteen minutes as I have seen them do to +some fellows. + +After that I felt more at ease in the front rank. All morning long we +ambled across the landscape, doing squad and company movements. It was +just drill, drill, drill, for fifty out of every sixty minutes, the ten +minutes being allowed as rest periods. We reviewed all our previous +instructions and worked up to the point of forming company fronts, with +the movements of right and left front into line and on right into line, +and as pivot man, I think I did mighty well. Our squad never stepped off +a pace ahead of time on any of the formations. And when we were marching +back to the barracks at mess time, the Sergeant came up beside me, and +remarked, by way of apology for hauling me out of the ranks earlier in +the morning, that I was doing good pivot work. + +Perhaps we didn't enjoy mess! Three helpings of navy beans for me with +pineapple marmalade, and a piece of salt pork on the side, not to +mention three cups of coffee and three slices of bread. I sure had luck +on the mess line to-day. + +This afternoon the First Lieutenant took charge of the company, and he +had us traipsing all over the landscape again, doing the same sort of +close order manoeuvres, and when we lined up just before retreat he +announced that we would have rifles to-morrow morning. + +It is interesting to see how rumours travel and gather force in the +barracks. Some one, somehow, heard that an artist and a stenographer +from our company are to sail for France in a day or two. Of course, all +my friends have come to the conclusion that I am the artist. A chap told +me about it at mess this evening, and since then several dozen have +looked me up to shake hands with me and tell me good-bye, with such +remarks as: "Hear you have orders to sail for France to-morrow; great." +"They tell me you got a commission from Washington and that you are +going across in a day or two," or, "Say, you're a lucky chap; where'd +you get the drag down in Washington?" + +But these queries fail absolutely to thrill me. I am quite calm and +undisturbed. I deny any "drag" whatever, and I know that I am not the +artist mentioned in the order for transfer, if there is any such order, +which I doubt. This is only about the _n_th time that same rumour has +been afloat as a result of which I have bade good-bye to my friends +about every other day only to discover myself still with them a week +later with the same old rumour bobbing up again. + + + + +Tuesday: + + +I'm really a soldier. I know the manual of arms. + +This morning, true to the First Lieutenant's prediction, we drilled with +rifles and now I am quite convinced of the truth of the old saying that +a gun is dangerous without lock, stock, or barrel. Fat turned around +suddenly when he had his rifle over his shoulder and poked the muzzle of +it into my mouth; a regular Happy Hooligan performance, and now I have a +split (and considerably puffed) lip and a loose tooth to my credit in +this horrible war. + +We were marched over to one of the infantry barracks on the edge of the +big parade grounds and there we found our rifles; I mean ours for the +day only, because there are hardly enough in camp to equip us all yet +and we have to take turns using them. In the same way there is only one +field piece to each artillery company, but that doesn't seem to worry +the artillery men much. + +They are doing some real drilling over on the other side of the camp. I +was surprised to discover a company at work digging trenches, another +company practising throwing hand grenades, with stones representing the +deadly Mill's bombs, still another group constructing parapets of sand +bags, and working out machine gun emplacements, and in the distance +artillery companies hovering about a sleek looking gun, learning the +complicated parts and where and how the animals are served. + +Krags, instead of Springfields, are the rifles available for drilling +purposes here, and for the first hour this morning we devoted our time +to learning the floor plan of the thing. I was getting along famously +until Fat interrupted my investigations with the muzzle of his weapon. + +Soon after that we started drilling. And I think it is to our credit +that before noon we had mastered all the movements and that our pieces +snapped up to position with real vigour. + +"Let me hear them hands slap them pieces," said the Sergeant; then +"Ri--sholler--harms! One-two-three-four! Pep, that's it, pep an' snap. +Slap 'em hard. Ordah--harms! One-two-three! _Done_ drop 'em--_done_ slam +'em down. Nex' man slams 'em gits kitchen p'lice." + +So we drilled until our arms ached, and rifles that weighed about eight +pounds at the beginning of the drill seemed to have increased to fifty +pounds, and felt as long as telephone poles. Perhaps we weren't glad +when our First Lieutenant put a stop to the punishment and started us in +the general direction of the mess hall. + +And we had beef stew for dinner; beef stew with rich brown gravy, such +as our old biscuit shooter alone can make. + +But after mess we were back at it again. Only this time it was bayonet +practice, but not of the variety pictured in most magazines. We haven't +reached the stage of charging trenches and swinging bundles of sticks. +Such advanced work comes later. + +Bayonets are awkward, ugly things, and I could not help being grateful +that Fat took it into his head to poke me in the mouth with his rifle +this morning instead of this afternoon. If he had waited until after +mess he wouldn't have split my lip; he would have cut my head off. When +I saw him with bayonet fixed I gave him a wide radius of action. Indeed +I avoided him as if he were a plague. + +In open, or extended, order we lined up on the parade grounds in front +of one of these movable elevated platforms. Our Second Lieutenant +mounted this, and with a bayonetted rifle in hand went through the +various lunges, thrusts and parries of the bayonet manual, meanwhile +giving us a lecture, to the effect that no matter what the War +Department intended to do with us, a knowledge of bayonet fighting would +be essential. He assured us that the logical weapon for an American +soldier was the rifle. One of our birthrights is markmanship and another +is bayonet fighting. He briefly cantered over a century and a half of +history of the Republic and pointed out how we had won fame and honour +with bullet and bayonet, and he wound up by telling us that every +American soldier should prepare himself so that he would be as dangerous +to fool with as a stick of dynamite. Picture good-natured Fat +impersonating a stick of dynamite. + +Then we went at it. We lunged and thrust and parried until perspiration +began to stand out on our foreheads. From the corner of my eye I had a +vision of Fat trying to disguise himself as a high explosive. Every time +he lunged, he would scowl viciously and emit a loud grunt. I discovered +a few moments ago, however, that it was a case of over-eating at mess +time that caused him to grunt and frown every time he tried to move very +fast; not a desire to look ferocious, although I guess it passed for +that in the eyes of the instructor. + +And now I'm told we are to get this sort of training daily for a long +period; close order formation in the morning, with rifle and bayonet +drill in the afternoon and later on we will do skirmish work, trench +work and open order work with rifles. Some of the infantry companies are +already doing that. I was treated to the spectacle of two companies +scurrying across the upper end of the parade grounds like so many +rabbits. Now and then they would fling themselves down on their stomachs +and begin snapping away merrily with empty rifles at an imaginary enemy. + +We are a tired-looking company to-night. Already half the cots are +filled with men, some of them snoring lustily and it is only a quarter +to ten. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +There are a lot of things calculated to stir a chap's sentimental streak +about this camp, particularly the nights; moonlight nights like to-night +for instance. Every hard outline of the huge place is softened under the +blue-black mantle of night, and the disagreeable things are lost in the +heavy shadows and the moonlight floods the open places, and glistens on +the rows upon rows of tin roofs and tall, gaunt-looking tin +smoke-stacks. Watch-fires (a sanitary precaution) blaze in their deep +holes in the rear of each barracks building, and the lonesome +fire-guard, bundled in his overcoat and with rifle over his shoulder, +stands silhouetted against the night sky beside each flaring pit. + +Out on the main streets of the camp are thousands of fellows in khaki, +walking aimlessly up and down, while in the by-streets between the +barracks buildings one sees shadowy figures and glowing cigarette ends +moving about in the darkness. Through the tiny panes of each barracks +window, partly obscured by overcoats and sweaters which dangle from pegs +inside, filters a warm yellow light, and as one moves down the row, one +hears from one building the music of an accordion and the rhythmic +shuffle of feet which tells of a "stag" dance being held in the mess +hall; while from another comes the soft plunk-plunking of a banjo and +the occasional drone of a mouth organ that seeks after harmony, but only +succeeds with an effort. + +Off to the right toward the parade grounds some fellows are singing and +their songs sound mighty good in the moonlight. And from far beyond +where the thick pine woods stand out black against the sky comes faintly +the hooting of a distant owl. + +On the main streets that skirt the outer edge of the cantonment on three +sides, the arc lights glisten, like rows of far off diamonds against the +velvet of a jewel box, and here and there, where two twinkle, like +low-hung stars, stand out the Y.M. shacks where the men are gathering +for an evening's recreation. + +It is wonderful to wander out such nights as these. Bundled in a sweater +to keep out the chill of evening, and with only my pipe for company, I +often go tramping off through the by-streets of the camp. The smoke of +the hundreds of watch-fires is wafted to me on every breeze and in wood +smoke there is a charm; the charm of camping out. Never in my life will +I smell the smoke of burning pine wood, but that these nights will come +trooping through my memory, and I'm certain that I will be homesick then +and want to come back and live them all over again. + +And the things I often see:--the fire-guard for instance, who alone out +there behind the barracks was trying hard to read a letter by the light +of his flickering watch-fire. Was it a letter he had just received and +could not wait to open, or was it a letter that he had read many, many +times before and was rereading once again? Then the lonesome dog who sat +out in the company street and stared up solemnly at the moon, like a +lone wolf on the prairie. What instincts were being waked within him by +the moonlight? And the silhouette through the window of the chap sitting +on his cot patiently plying needle and thread and the two fellows who +leaned against the jacketed field piece in front of an artillery +barracks and talked in whispers, while through the opened door of the +buildings on either hand came the noise of a rousing good time within. + +Then the tramp up Tower Hill, where the headquarters building with its +darkened windows like sightless eyes stands out from the sparse remains +of the pine woods, flecked here and there with patches of moonlight. + +Far off across the great camp, and across the tops of the pines one can +dimly see from the top of the hill the ocean with the moonlight flashing +on its surface, and occasionally comes a breath of chilled salt air that +stirs a longing, vague and fleeting, as the ocean has always stirred a +longing in the soul of the adventurer. From here one can look down upon +the great camp. Thousands and thousands of roofs stand out in the +moonlight, and the watch-fires twinkle in orderly rows up and down each +camp street. Far off to the left are the big machine shops and forges of +the construction company, the forge fires glowing red against the night, +while faintly comes the far-off ring of anvils. Those forge fires, like +the bakery fires, never die. + +To the eastward is the railroad terminal with its panting engines and +its medley of noises, while nearer at hand but in the same direction is +the transport headquarters with its ceaselessly moving caravan of +rumbling, grumbling army trucks. All combines to make a picture that +holds one spell-bound. + +The days here are pleasant indeed, but the nights are almost +intoxicating. They cast a spell upon me and leave a memory that can +never fade. + + + + +Monday: + + +This place looks like a growing mining town somewhere out West, but for +real atmosphere, the civilian camp, outside the reservation, has the +cantonment looking really civilized. I went out there this evening after +mess; for I heard that there was a cigar store included in the outfit, +and the impression I got was a lasting one. Everything of the frontier +was there save the saloons and the gambling halls. Shacks, tents (rows +upon rows of them), lean-tos and all forms of domiciles. And the men who +walked the streets were of every variety, including real lumber jabs in +mackinaws and spiked boots, who had come down to cut away the timber; +Italians, Poles, Swedes, Slavs and what not, and a real cowgirl, in +short skirts and high leather boots, with a silk handkerchief scarf, +sombrero and a big thirty-eight strapped to her hip. She, I learned, +runs a motor bus between the civilian camp and the nearest towns. + +Cook fires twinkled outside of the tents, lights showed through the +canvas walls reflecting the huge, grotesque, shadowy figures of the +occupants. From one emanated the strains of an accordion and from +another the babble of voices that suggested a quarrel over a card game. + +I found the cigar store. I found other stores, too, just shacks thrown +together, but carrying a stock of everything in the line of wearing +apparel and eatables. One displayed the sign of "Jack's Unsurpassable +Lunch," another "The Elite," and another "The Emporium." There were +hundreds of squalid booth-like structures besides, where a host of +curious things were for sale to the hordes of big-fisted, deep-chested +men who were brought there to build the cantonment. But they tell me +that the civilian camp is fast breaking up now, for the cantonment is +almost completed. The remount stables for the artillery, the +refrigerating plant and the huge bakery are all that remain to be built +and the labourers are leaving in big groups. + +The temporary bakery (I passed it to-night on my way back to camp) is +represented by a double line of tents, before each of which is a big +field baking oven, its coal fire glowing from lower doors like huge, red +eyes and its gaunt smoke-stack reaching upward to terminate in a cloud +of black smoke which ascends higher and higher in long, graceful spirals +until it is lost in the darkness of the night. + +Before these ovens work the bakers, in khaki, of course, but each +swathed in a flowing white apron. With sleeves rolled up and shirts +opened at the throat, they wield their long bakers' paddles, and as they +pass to and fro in the dull red firelight, they look elfish and +grotesque; exactly like a lot of gnome bakers off in the "nowheres" +baking bread for some ferocious ogre who bids them work incessantly. + +And these loaves they bake are indeed loaves for ogres; huge affairs two +feet long and as big 'round their rich brown girth as pumpkins. In +"sheets" of a dozen each they are brought from the fire and placed +steaming hot on a nearby table where an expert breaks them apart and +tests the tenderness of their fibre and searches for signs of +doughiness. These bakers are all of the Regular Army now, but not long +since czars of dingy cellar bakeries located anywhere from Boston to San +Francisco. But the ogre has called them together and here like gnomes +they work, eight hours each in three shifts and the oven fires are kept +burning always. + +Still we drill, drill, drill. This morning was spent in manoeuvring and +tramping over the wet and soggy countryside in company formation, and +this afternoon, by way of variety, we were given a few hours fatigue +duty in the line of uprooting more stumps and gnarled tentacles, that +seem to have rooted themselves in China. But our hands are hard and +leathery now and our muscles no longer creak and pain under the stress. +I've added four pounds to my former weight and I have never felt more +fit in my life. + +[Illustration: They seemed to have rooted themselves in China] + + + + +Tuesday: + + +The cost of high living here is enormous. The stoop-shouldered, +shrewd-eyed, flinty-hearted Yankee clerks behind the broad counters of +the "Post Exchange" disdain anything less than a quarter. Dimes and +nickels are chicken-feed, and pennies--impossible. If a chap buys one +apple at five cents or one pear or one banana (always green and a long +way from being ripe) he has to hide himself in the crowd to escape the +baleful eye of these grasping sharks. Five cent crackers sell two boxes +for a quarter, penny candies are five cents each, cigars and cigarettes +are considerably above normal in price and considerably below in +quality, and ice cream sells for ten cents a gram. + +But none of us has grown up. We are all like big boys and we spend with +no thought of to-morrow. Mess over, we all hie out to the two main roads +that lead to the "Post Exchange," jingling coins in our trouser pockets. +The "Exchange" itself is a long, low unpainted building like all other +buildings here with tiny back country windows, half-obscured by garments +hanging within which leave only a few dirty squares for the dull yellow +light to show through. + +The doors are broad and through them streams a never ending line of +troopers, some coming, some going. Inside, the place resembles nothing +more than a huge up-country general store with shelves upon shelves +stacked high with cracker boxes, shoe boxes, hardware and goodness only +knows what not, while from the rafters hang heavy coats, sweaters, +lanterns, huge stalks of green bananas, hams, bacon, boots and a lot of +useless things that only gullible soldiers who feel a yearning to spend +their money really purchase. But this spending of money somehow seems to +bring us closer to civilization for the moment and we join the churning +mass of men within, whose hobnailed shoes produce a great pounding and +scraping sound and whose voices are raised in a constant babble of +conversation which only the sharp ting, ting of the cash register bells +can punctuate. + +We mill around with the crowd, and soon are pushed against a counter. +Something attracts our eye. We feel a desire to possess it. We buy it, +and start milling about the room again until presently we are near the +door. Then we step out into the night again and join one of the groups +of loiterers or sit about on boxes and piles of lumber, where we devour +our purchase, if it happens to be in the line of crackers (which is +usually the case), or admire it, if it happens to be a pocket flash +lamp, a fountain pen or something else that we really never have had any +use for. + +The small-town idea prevails even in the city of thirty thousand +lonesome men. The "Post Exchange" and the "Post Office" are the two +centres of interest. First we wander to one, and then we wander to the +other, then with time on our hands we join the stream of men going up +one side of the road "just walkin'" and when we reach the point where +most of the crowd turns back, we turn back, too, and continue our +"walkin'," with no particular place to go, until the streets begin to +get deserted and it is time for the town to close up. Then we disappear, +too, and for an hour occupy ourselves in the barracks until taps are +sounded and lights are out, when we go to bed; the place I'm headed for +now, so soon as I put the top on my fountain pen. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +[Illustration: Sick Call] + +That's the call that brings out all the shirkers. They line up in the +morning and present all sorts of ailments from sore throat to heart +disease. + +The line is especially long on mornings when they know we are in for two +hours of "settin'-ups" or when some especially hard detail such as camp +orderly or kitchen police has been handed out. A day in the hospital +will relieve one of all these duties. This morning I was on the long +line. But I hasten to explain that _I_ was sick (that's what they all +say, of course,) with chills and a scrapy feeling in my throat; and +since we are forbidden to take any medicine of our own, I shame-facedly +line up with the rest of them. There were about twenty all told and the +doctor made short work of us. + +"What's the matter with you?" very cross. + +"I-I-I-here--it hurts," said one, pointing to his back and looking quite +scared. The M. D. poked his finger into the spot designated. + +"Man you're not sick," said the doctor in a very startling manner, +"you're almost dead, only you won't lie down. You've dislocated a couple +of vertibraes, ruptured a half-dozen ligaments and like as not you have +a chronic case of pneumonia. The only thing that I can recommend for you +is two hours of strenuous exercise. You may pull through and you may +not." Then, with a malicious grin, he turned to the next man and the +first invalid shuffled off, mumbling something about horse doctors +without any horse sense. + +Two out of twenty of us got by. The rest went to work. I was one of the +two. I had a slight temperature and an inflamed throat. Nothing serious, +but report to the hospital. I did. And the best thing about the hospital +was the fact that there were two sheets on the bed and I had an +abbreviated flannel nightshirt to sleep in. Three big pills, the size of +bullets and just as deadly, and then I turned in, went to sleep and +slept right through mess time. + +Four o'clock I was feeling very much better and ravenously hungry and at +five o'clock I was discharged as cured. I don't know what I was cured +of, but I'm feeling much spryer just now after three helpings of beef +stew and apple marmalade and I'm ready to turn in and sleep some more. + + + + +Thursday: + + +If there is one thing that I want to remember more than anything else +about this Conscript Camp it is the spectacle I witnessed and took part +in this evening. + +Fancy if you can Tower Hill with its big headquarters building snuggled +in among the scattered and gaunt pines, the tall, ungainly water-tank +propped up on all too spindly-looking stilts. On top of this a single +figure thrown in bold relief by the golden yellow light of a big +watch-fire, beating time with his baton, and below him, clothing the +slopes of the hill five thousand men, his chorus, thundering forth +across the starlit night "Columbia the Gem of the Ocean." That chorus +was wonderful; that crowd was wonderful; everything about it was +wonderful. + +We were all singing; thousands of fellows in khaki, some snuggled in +their big army overcoats, some puffed out like pouter pigeons with the +sweaters they had piled on under their tunics against the cold chill of +night. Intermingled were the lumber jacks and labourers from the +civilian camp, most of them in gay mackinaws and caps; with now and then +an officer immaculately clad in clean cut uniform, or a Y. M. C. A. man +in grey-green suit with red circle and triangle gleaming in the +firelight. And how well they could sing; I have never heard a more +stirring chorus and as we raised our voices loud and clear shivery +thrills raced up and down our spines, and we were stirred to the highest +pitch of patriotic fervor. Indeed, there were some among us who could +find no better way of expressing the emotion that swelled within save by +tears. They cried. I was one of them. + +"America" and "Dixie" and "Maryland" followed and every one produced its +own thrill and its own heartache. Never was there anything more +stirring, Never was there anything finer. We sang till our voices were +husky and the great chorus surged loud and clear across the night, until +it must have echoed against the crags of the Rhine and caused the Hun to +shudder. + +Then the breaking up of the big meeting, when groups detached themselves +and wandered out of the fitful flicker of the dying firelight into the +misty blue blackness of the night, still singing. Out through the +streets of the camp we tramped, stepping to the cadence of our own +songs. We were all happy, very, very happy and draft or no draft, down +in our hearts we all knew that we were in the very place we were meant +to be, and we were doing the very things that we should do, and that +when the time came we would do other and greater things with as much +eagerness and enthusiasm as we had sung up there on Tower Hill to-night. + +The whole camp was singing even after the concert, but the character of +the songs changed. "Over There" swelled forth everywhere and "The +Yankees Are Coming" was chanted in every street. Out toward our own +barracks our little group swung, passing the railroad siding where, +partly shrouded in the canvas jackets, new artillery pieces were waiting +to be moved in the morning. A cheer for these and a cheer for everything +and anything that suggested patriotism, and on we tramped, brimming over +with enthusiasm. + +And now I'm back to the barracks again, but the mysteries of the night +and the spell of the whole wonderful occasion is still over me and I +know I shall lie awake a long, long time and think and dream of all that +waits for me in the not very distant future. And the promises I made +myself up there on Tower Hill will all be fulfilled, that's certain. + + + + +Friday: + + +Momentous news. We of the headquarters company, or rather eighty-seven +of us, start Monday on the first leg of that longed-for journey to +France. We go to a Southern training camp where new units are being +formed into which each of us will fit. And along with this news came the +announcement that none of us will be given a pass to go home for a last +good-bye. This has stirred the men more than the news of the transfer +South. Several impromptu indignation meetings were held this morning and +this afternoon, just after mess, a real demonstration took place in the +mess hall and most of the eighty-seven of us were loud in our assertions +that we would go home anyway, even though we were arrested for desertion +afterward. + +This little incident served to impress upon me more than anything else +the freedom that is accorded the men of this new American Army, for +behold, before the meeting broke up a Lieutenant came in and addressed +us on the penalties for desertion, the difficulty of dealing with +headstrong soldiers and similar subjects, and then when we all felt and +looked like slackers he announced that although orders had gone forth +that no passes were to be granted, our commanding officer, knowing our +feeling in the matter, was at that time trying very hard to arrange to +secure permission for the men to go home over Saturday night and Sunday. +As I left the mess hall I wondered vaguely how such a mass meeting would +have been treated in the German Army, for instance, and I thanked my +lucky stars that I was an American. + +But there are a thousand and one things remaining to be accomplished +to-day. I have been hurrying from one place to another since reveille +and now at taps all that I should do is not done yet. But to-morrow is +another day. + +First of all we were rushed off to receive our third and fourth +inoculations together. Then came the announcement that we would be +relieved of all our winter clothing and given a complete summer outfit +instead, for it appears there is no need for woollens in this Southland +camp to which we are going. + +And between times, there were a score of personal things I wanted to do, +not the least of which was to join the line of waiting men before the +telephone booths in the Y. M. C. A. shacks to tell them at home the news +of our going. In all this, poor Fat seems to be sadly left out, for he +is not among the fellows who are to leave. He stands helplessly by and +watches the hurry and bustle going on about him, and sometimes I think +there is a sad, wistful sort of a look in his big, good-natured face, +for I know he doesn't like the idea of staying here when the snow begins +to fall and winds whistle disconsolately around the corners of the +barracks building. I am glad that _I_ will not have to spend the winter +here and I'm sorry, too, that Fat is not to be with me. + + + + +Saturday: + + +[Illustration: A soldier-boy in his native haunts] + +To-day, for the first time since I have been here, I had visitors. Those +at home, eager to get a glimpse of their soldier-boy in his native +haunts, came down to see things as they are. I'm quite certain that the +general arrangement of the barracks, with its cluttered appearance +suggested by many pairs of shoes standing around and many hats and coats +and old sweaters hanging about, did not accord with mother's ideas of +good housekeeping. And she assured me that many of the old rose, pink +and baby blue comforters would not have suffered from a washing, all of +which I had never noticed before, until she drew my attention to it. She +intimated, too, that my dish towel and my hand towel would never testify +as to my respectable up-bringing, and she felt that I should make a +practice of taking off those abominably heavy trench shoes in the +evening and putting on a pair of slippers which she would send down to +me. She thought that a bath-robe might come in handy for lounging in the +evening and perhaps after we got comfortably settled in our Southern +quarters, she might send one of the big, roomy library chairs down to +me, for she did not approve of one's sitting on one's bed the way most +of us did. She deplored the total lack of chairs about the barracks and +she was quite sure that taking an ice cold shower out in that horrible +big tin building would certainly result in innumerable cases of +influenza, if nothing more serious. She's a dear old mother and I don't +know that I have ever appreciated her so much as I have since I've been +down here. + +Then with my visitors caring for themselves for a while, and mother +chumming up with the always affable Fat, whom she took quite a fancy to, +I hurried about my work of being re-outfitted with summer uniforms. +Fortunately they allowed me to retain my overcoat (which I received but +a few days ago) until we are ready to entrain. + +Then came the passes. The officer was successful and we who are to go +South are given a release from duty until to-morrow night at retreat. +Other passes were distributed, too, and Fat fortunate for once, yet +unfortunate, got one to go home until Monday morning. But poor Fat! +Still the military tailors lag and now that he has the pass that he has +been trying to get for this last month, he cannot use it, for he is not +properly uniformed to leave the cantonment, having still just his +flannel shirt. He tried frantically to borrow parts of a uniform to fit +him and while he could find a pair of breeches that he could get into, a +jacket was lacking, so in disgust, and with a most unhappy smile, he +gave it up and went over to the Y.M. telephone booth to ask his mother +to come down and visit him over Sunday. + +And to-night there are no taps for me, for I am home once more and +writing this at my own desk. We all came home together and had a bully +trip and now, after the best dinner I have eaten in many a day, I shall +see a real show at a real theatre, and sit up as late as I choose and +when I go to bed I will be between clean sheets again and there will be +no officers' whistles to wake me in the morning. + + + + +Sunday: + + +Back again, but back to a sad and very unhappy barracks. Fat, poor, poor +Fat, who felt downcast because he was not going South, has gone on a far +longer journey. It is the first tragedy that has come into our life here +in our barracks and with the thoughts of the breaking up of the big +family on the morrow, and the homesickness, that most of us feel because +of our all too brief trips home, has cast a gloom over us all. + +Unfortunate Fat, done out of using his pass by the slowness of the army +tailors, telephoned home yesterday to have his mother come out to see +him. At train time this morning he was at the terminal awaiting her +arrival. But in the shifting of the cars back and forth in the yard an +accident happened and Fat, in the way of it, was one of its victims. +Both his legs were crushed and he was hurried away to the hospital. + +Meanwhile, his grey-haired old mother arrived and stood about the +terminal hour after hour wondering why he did not come for her, and it +was not until late this afternoon that one of the boys in our company +thought to go down and try and find her; which, fortunately, was not too +late to bid her son good-bye. + +And now we are on the eve of our departure. As I came through the +terminal an hour ago the troop train, a long line of nondescript +coaches, was being made up. As each car was made ready it was shunted +into line by the ever-grumbling engine and to-morrow at daybreak all +will be ready for us. Then we will go and some of us will be sorry, and +some of us will be glad. As for myself, all that I can say is "Adieu, +camp," and if the place I am bound for, wherever it may be, holds the +charms that I've found here, I'll be happy. + + + + +Monday: + + +The mere suggestion of troop movements has a thrill to it, and we have +had a lot of thrills to-day. + +[Illustration: I was alone in line] + +After a long period of restless waiting, and good-byes to every one and +everything about the old barracks, came the command to fall in. Then in +summer uniforms, and each with a big blue barracks bag crowded with +personal belongings, extra uniform, shoes, blanket and what not, on our +shoulders, we lined up, shouted last farewells and stepped off, down the +barracks street and out toward the railroad station. There was no +whistling nor singing for we were all very solemn, and I was lonesome, +for I was alone in line, the only member of our entire squad to go. + +We came upon other columns of fellows, coming from other companies, +bound with us for this Southern camp. On we marched to the terminal. +Here confusion reigned for a while, for hundreds of men in khaki were +scattered everywhere, all bending under blue duffel bags, and wondering +what was to happen next. + +But soon we were entrained, and then with locomotive whistles hooting, +and heads bobbing from every car window, we said farewell to The Camp. +And with the leave-taking our spirits seemed to rise, for there was +singing and whistling and horse play once more as the big cantonment +faded from view behind its fringe of pine woods. + +Our first impression was that we would travel all the way to Georgia in +the cars we had been assigned to, but, fortunately, this was not true, +for after a long and tedious trip we detrained again at a ferry terminal +in Brooklyn. Here, too, was confusion. It was late in the afternoon, and +we were hungry. Every candy stand, and handy store was patronized until +the officers interfered. Then came the big, old fashioned side-wheeled +ferries, and we were hustled aboard. + +Soon the old craft swung out into the river and with churning paddles we +headed down stream. + +It was just sunset. Far down the bay, beyond Governor's Island and +Liberty, a great, fiery red disc was setting in a haze of smoke and mist +from the city, while to our right and left on the river banks, lights +began to twinkle, and overhead strings of diamonds draped each +gracefully arching bridge. Past the Navy Yard we swung, with cheers from +the crews of three destroyers in the river. Tugs and steamers and +passing sound night boats greeted us with whistles, and we lined the +rails and cheered back. + +Soon we churned under the last of the bridges and began to make our +tortoise-like way around the Battery. Lights were glimmering through the +violet haze that shrouded the mass of sky-touching buildings, and in the +foreground were hurrying throngs of men and women wending their way +through Battery Park toward the ferries. + +Up the North River, the skyline of the huge cities changed and grew more +impressive, as one building after another came out of the mass and stood +alone against the blue-black Eastern night sky. Ferries criss-crossing +in the darkness, leaving sparkling trails of light that danced on the +water, crowded close to us at times, and the mass of men and women +huddled on the windswept decks, cheered us on our way. Thus did we say +our last good-bye to the big city--and we said it solemnly and +thoughtfully, too, for many of us know that we are going on the long, +long journey and will never see that skyline again. + +The crowds in the terminal, as we hurried from ferry to the railroad +yard, cheered us, too, and men rushed out to shake hands with us and +crowded cigarettes and cigars into our pockets as we marched on. + +We had been told that the Red Cross would feed us. It did, to the extent +of a single sandwich and a cup of coffee, hastily snatched as we wended +our way through the railroad yard to the train. + +Long tourist sleepers are our lot. They stood on a siding, dimly lighted +with a single candle at either end of the car when we climbed into them +and were assigned to our seats. We are settled now, and rolling swiftly +across Jersey. Lights have been turned on, and the interior of the car +looks very strange with the big blue duffel bags swinging from every +hook and swaying as the train rounds each curve. But we are all very +quiet, and many of us are thinking. We are all homesick that is certain, +and hungry, too, and wondering about the future. + + + + +Tuesday: + + +We are rolling through Virginia into the sunset. + +For twenty hours we have been crowded into these cars, and we are +cramped and tired, but feeling happier with all. Two to a berth, we +tried to sleep last night. But sleep was impossible. I was up most of +the night, standing at the upper end of the car looking out the window, +while my new-found bunkie tried hard to get in a few winks. He wasn't +successful. + +At midnight we ran through a little station called Brandy, and there in +a pounding rainstorm, under the light of a smoky, yellow oil lamp, stood +a solitary soldierly-looking figure, a boy, bare-footed and with head +uncovered and his rain-soaked cap held over his heart in a salute. He +alone had been watching for the troop train. + +Sometime after daylight, at Charlottesville, our train stopped for +water. All signs of the rain had cleared, hundreds of boys, black and +white, and men and women swarmed to the station to greet us. Our +canteens were passed out of the windows for water, and hot coffee and +thick sandwiches of home-made bread and jelly and delicious ham were +given to us by a committee of very old women who had been up since long +before daylight awaiting our arrival. Rations were served to us after we +pulled out of the station, consisting of bread and hard crackers, and a +can of tomatoes and a can of beans for every six men. + +By way of diversion we began to play poker for the beans, and a pair of +jacks left me breakfastless, except for the coffee and sandwich I was +fortunate enough to get at Charlottesville. And that is all I have had +since seven o'clock and it is now half-past four. + +At one station along the line, where we laid over for a few moments, +several fellows, acting as Sergeants, were sent out to buy food for our +company. But the train pulled out without them. Goodness knows where +they are now, but the saddest part of it is that they didn't bring back +the eats. + + + + +Wednesday: + + +We are travelling through a land of gold and red and green, with huge +dabs of white marking the cotton fields. And we are hungry no longer. + +At Cornellia the train stopped for half an hour, and the fellows, all +but famished, made a wild rush for the door, and sweeping aside such +obstructions as angry Sergeants took the town by storm. About seven +hundred soldiers descended upon it, and bought everything in the eating +line that they could possibly find, even to whole cheeses, huge stalks +of bananas, and cases of honey. We ate, and we flooded the town with +money. Never has Cornellia seen such a busy half-hour in its history, +and never did the stores do such a tremendous business. + +We held up the troop train while we satisfied our appetites. But what of +it! We are happy now, with tight belts and plenty of cigarettes to +smoke, so why worry! + +Never in my life have I seen so many negroes. They swarm about the train +at every stop we make, chalk their initials on the cars (as every one +else has done) sing songs, cheer and just bubble over with enthusiasm. +Last night, while our train was on a siding, an old fellow somehow got +inside the car and did a wild buck and wing dance in the aisle for +pennies that were tossed from every bunk. And this morning another old +fellow, with a bag of cotton on his back, came a little too close to the +windows of the troop train. Eager hands seized the bag and pulled it +from his shoulders, and presently the cotton was being distributed among +the men as souvenirs. + +And now we are only twenty miles from Atlanta, and the fellows are +beginning to pack up their belongings. Some are trying hard to shave in +a crowded wash-room, for the long train ride has left us all appearing a +little the worse for wear and we want to enter our new home as +presentable as possible. + +I wonder what this new home will be like? Camp X is the cantonment and I +am told that it is bigger than the place we left, but if it is half as +pleasant we will be satisfied. + + THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Conscript 2989, by Irving Crump + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSCRIPT 2989 *** + +***** This file should be named 36832.txt or 36832.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/8/3/36832/ + +Produced by Roger Frank, Katherine Ward, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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