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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/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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