by Gordon Bates
THE KHAKI BOYS AT CAMP STERLING
Or
Training for the Big Fight in France
by
CAPT. GORDON BATES
Author of "The Khaki Boys on the Way,""The Khaki Boys at the Front," etc.
Illustrated
New YorkCupples & Leon Company
* * * * *
THE KHAKI BOYS SERIES
By CAPT. GORDON BATES
12mo. Cloth. Frontispiece
Price per Volume, 50 Cents
THE KHAKI BOYS AT CAMP STERLING or Training for the Big Fight in France
THE KHAKI BOYS ON THE WAY or Doing Their Bit on Sea and Land
THE KHAKI BOYS AT THE FRONT or Shoulder to Shoulder in the Trenches
_Other Volumes in Preparation_
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, New York
* * * * *
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BYCUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE KHAKI BOYS AT CAMP STERLING
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE GLORY ROAD TO FRANCE 1
II OFF TO CAMP STERLING 10
III THE BEGINNING OF COMRADESHIP 17
IV ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK 28
V THE BEAUTY OF GOOD ADVICE 39
VI THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE 50
VII CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP 57
VIII A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 65
IX THE CROWNING INSULT 76
X NO LONGER "JUST ROOKIES" 89
XI THE RESULT OF STAYING AWAKE 97
XII AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND AT COURT 109
XIII A CORPORAL AT LAST 121
XIV ADVENTURE 131
XV THE TWINKLE TWINS 137
XVI UNKNOWN, UNGUESSED 148
XVII THE WORK OF A FIEND 154
XVIII THE CLUE 164
XIX A FRUITFUL RUBBISH CAN 172
XX A LEAP IN THE DARK 178
XXI THE FIGHT 184
XXII THE ROUND-UP 191
XXIII IGGY TURNS SLEUTH 195
XXIV CONCLUSION 202
CHAPTER I
THE GLORY ROAD TO FRANCE
"You, over there in the crowd, and _you_ and _you_, why don't you getbusy and help Uncle Sam? What are you hanging back for? Now's yourchance to show that you're a real American, and ready to fight for yourcountry. What's the use of waiting for the draft to get you? You're justwasting time! The sooner you enlist, the sooner you'll be ready to doyour bit in France. It's up to good old Uncle Sam to jump into the bigwar and win it. But he can't do it alone. It needs a lot of brave, huskyfellows to lick the Boches off the map. Are you going to be one of 'em?Every little bit helps, you know!
"Now we're going to sing you one more song. While we're singing it, geton the job and think hard. We want to take a bunch of you back with usto the recruiting station. All right, boys. Give 'em 'The Glory Road toFrance!'"
Standing in the middle of a big recruiting wagon, lavishly decorated inred, white and blue, the orator, a good-looking young soldier of perhapstwenty years, bawled out, "Let 'er go!"
From one end of the wagon rose the strains of a lively air,enthusiastically hammered out on a small, portable piano by anotherkhaki-clad youngster, seated on a stool before it. Gathered about him,half a dozen clean-cut soldier boys immediately took it up. The sheercatchiness of the melody, tunefully shouted out by the singers, had itseffect on the crowd. The sturdy quality of the words, too, brought aflash of newly aroused patriotism to more than one pair of eyesbelonging to the throng of persons closely packed about the big wagon.It appeared to deepen with the lustily given chorus:
"Take the Glory Road for France, Hike along to join the fray, With the Sammies take a chance 'Neath the Stars and Stripes to-day. At the front brave men are falling, Now's your time to do and dare. Don't you hear your Uncle calling, 'Boys, I need you "Over There"!'"
At the extreme edge of the crowd, a gaily painted roadster had come to afull stop, its progress temporarily checked by the mass of personsabout the wagon. It was a four-cylinder car, built low, with onegasoline tank behind the seat and still another behind it, a smallreserve. The body of the roadster, painted a bright green, stood outsharply by reason of the red wire wheels. The doorless entrance at oneside formed a neat "U," while the extra tires, also mounted on red wirewheels, strapped on at the rear, gave it a last additional touch.Plainly it was built for speed and had a mischievous, runaway air aboutit that accorded curiously with its driver, a gray-eyed, sunny-hairedyoung man of perhaps eighteen, whose clean-cut features bore anexpression of reckless good humor that immediately stamped him as one ofthose wide-awake, restless lads in whom the love of mischief isingrained.
Forced to slow down and halt his car by the ever-waving arm of a trafficpoliceman, he now leaned forward over the wheel, his attention fixed onthe singers. He had come upon the scene at the moment when the youthfulorator had commenced his harangue. Further, he had been one of thosewhom the latter had addressed as "you." From a good-humored grin, hisboyish mouth had gradually grown grave as he listened. First sight ofthe recruiting wagon had recalled to Jimmy Blaise a matter which hadbeen troubling him ever since the United States had declared war againstGermany. The only son of an intensely patriotic father and mother,despite his love of fun Jimmy had done some serious thinking about thebig war.
At the last ringing line of appeal, "Boys, I need you 'Over There,'"involuntarily Jimmy spoke his mind aloud. "I guess that's right," heagreed, with a vigorous wag of his head.
A boy standing close to the roadster caught the remark and glancedlevelly at the speaker. In his dark blue eyes there was an answeringflash which the other lad caught and read aright. For an instant the twostared at each other in silence.
"How about it?" demanded Jimmy genially.
"I guess Uncle Sam needs us all right enough," the blue-eyed boyreplied, his sober face lighting into a singularly sunny smile. "I'vethought a lot about it. I'd like to go."
"Put her there!" The youth in the car leaned down and shot out afriendly hand. "I've been thinking about it myself. I can go to-morrow,that is, if I get accepted. I asked my folks the other night what they'ddo if I enlisted. I'm not twenty-one, you see. Quite a long way from it.Won't be nineteen until next November."
"What did they say?" questioned the other eagerly.
"They both said it was up to me. They're not slackers. I can just tellyou that. Of course, my mother looked kind of sad for a minute; thenshe braced up and said she'd be proud to have a soldier son. My fathersaid if he wa
s young enough he'd enlist himself. That shows prettyplainly what sort of stuff they're made of."
"I should say so," emphasized the blue-eyed boy. "I was nineteen lastmonth. My father and mother are both dead. I take care of myself. So yousee there isn't anyone to care----"
"Gee whiz, that's tough," sympathized Jimmy. "Say, I like you. You'reall right. What do you say? Let's enlist. Yes? No ride in thatrecruiting wagon for me, though. Look! They've got four fellows already!That Glory Road song waked 'em up, _I_ guess. Tell you what you do. Jumpinto my roadster and we'll get away from here and be at the stationahead of those fellows. This car can certainly go some. I call it 'OldSpeedy.' If we were out in the country on a good smooth road I'd giveyou a fast ride, all right. Course I have to go easy in the city. Butclimb in and let's beat it. Those Sammies in the wagon are getting readyto move on. What's the matter? You're not going to back out, are you?"Quick to note a trace of hesitation in his new acquaintance's manner,the gray-eyed boy's straight brows drew together in a disappointedfrown.
"Back out? Well, I _guess_ not." With this the other boy hopped nimblyup to a seat beside the driver. "It's fine of you to do this," he burstforth impulsively. "Why, you don't even know my name or----"
"Oh, can it," grinned Jimmy. "I took a good look at you. That's enough.I always know when I first see a fellow whether I'm going to like him ornot. I don't change my mind about him, either. Now I'm going to back outof here in a hurry. I'll turn around up the street, then cut down a sidestreet and hit it up for the recruiting station."
With this Jimmy busied himself with his car and soon had it backed farenough to make the turn. As it glided into the side street, hiscompanion glanced over one shoulder at the crowd they had left behind."It looks as if they were going to start," he commented.
"Let 'em start. We'll beat 'em to it," predicted Jimmy. "I'll run asfast as I dare. Say," he continued, as they spun along over the smoothpavement, "as long as we enlist together, we'll probably be sent to thesame training camp. Then we'll be pals. How's that? My name's JamesSumner Blaise. My folks call me Jimmy and the fellows call me JimmyBlazes."
His companion smiled at this funny nickname. He was already under thespell of Jimmy's careless, happy-go-lucky manner.
"I'd like to be pals," came his hearty response. "My name's RogerBarlow. I've been working in a munitions plant ever since the war inEurope began. I used to be in the shipping room of a big hardware place.I didn't make very good wages, so I left it for munitions. This is thefirst Saturday afternoon I've had off for three months. I've earnedquite a lot of money and I've got almost a hundred dollars saved up," headded confidentially.
"_I_ haven't a hundred cents," confessed Jimmy cheerfully. "My fathergives me an allowance on the first of every month. I'm always brokebefore the tenth. I just came home from Langley--that's a prepschool--in June. I'd be in Harvard next fall if this hadn't happened.Maybe I will be anyhow. Hope not. I'd hate to be turned down. I don'tbelieve I will be, though. I'm pretty husky. I've never taken a drink ofanything stronger than ginger ale, and I hardly ever smoke. I've neverbeen sick, either, since I had the measles. That was long ago. I playedquarterback on the football team at Langley, and I hold the record therefor the hundred-yard dash."
"My, you've done a lot of things, haven't you?" admired Roger. "I'vealways wanted to play football, but never had a chance to learn how. I'mgood and strong, though. Hard work's made me so."
"When we get to camp, maybe we'll meet some nice fellows that want toorganize a football team. Then you'll get a chance to play. It's agreat old game, all right."
"That would be fine," glowed Roger.
The two lads whom Chance had so curiously thrown together were beginningalready to plan as if their enlistment were an assured fact. Judgingfrom outward appearances, Uncle Sam would be only too glad to numberthem among the khaki-clad host of young patriots, so soon to receive ina foreign land their baptism of fire and steel. Of almost the sameheight, about five feet ten inches, their clear eyes, healthfully tintedcheeks and straight, spare boyish figures showed the admirable result ofclean living.
"Here we are." Jimmy had brought his roadster to a full stop before atall, rather dingy brick building. The huge plate-glass front of theground floor was filled with large placards of soldiers, resplendent inthe becoming uniform of the United States Army. Straight across the topof it a white banner stretched from one side to the other. It bore inlarge black letters the pertinent legend, "Do Your Bit for Your Country:Enlist NOW!"
"That's us." Jimmy leaped from his car and nodded jovially at the sign.Roger landed on the sidewalk only a second behind him. "Forward marchand mind your step, Roger, old pal! We're going to do our bit, allright, if Uncle Sam'll take us."
Side by side, their boyish faces illumined by the light of patriotism,the two swung up the short flight of steps, splendid examples of sturdy,buoyant young American manhood. Yes, there was little doubt that UncleSam would take them.