The Khaki Boys at Camp Sterling; Or, Training for the Big Fight in France

by Gordon Bates

  CHAPTER IV

  ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK

  "Camp Sterling! Camp Sterling!" The stentorian call thrilled the heartsof the embryo soldiers. Long before the train had come to a creaking,puffing stop, fifty boys were on the _qui vive_ to be out of it for afirst satisfactory look at the camp, of which they had obtained onlytantalizing glimpses from the car windows. Emerging with alacrity fromthe train, they made brief halt on the station platform, while theofficer of the bouquet incident called the roll.

  Met at the station by two sergeants from the camp, the little detachmentof future defenders did their level best to obey promptly the order,"Company attention! Forward march!" Accompanied by the sergeants, whohad come down to the station to receive them, they were soon marchingaway from it and through the wide gateway that admitted them to the campitself.

  Far ahead of them they could see scattered groups of long, lowbuildings, which they immediately knew to be barracks. As they proceededstraight forward along an almost level and extremely dusty road, theycould make out more plainly the first outlying group of barracks, towhich they were momently drawing nearer. Of new, unpainted wood,two-storied and many-windowed, these buildings looked rather cheerlessat first view. Here and there at the side or front of one stood small,sturdy trees, the dark green of their foliage relieving the prevailingmonotonous yellow cast that predominated.

  For over a mile they tramped steadily along. By this time they had longsince passed the outlying groups of barracks, and had had the chance ofviewing numbers of them at close range. Ordered at last to halt beforeone of them, their conductors marched them up a flight of four woodensteps, and through an open door into a long, bare room, the chieffurnishing of which consisted of two rows of narrow canvas cots. Placedfairly close together, these cots ranged the length of the room on bothsides, leaving a wide aisle in the middle.

  Here they were taken in hand by still another sergeant, who informedthem that they were now in a receiving barracks, where they would sleepthat night prior to being re-examined at a regimental hospital the nextmorning. Crisply assigned to cots, they were allowed only time enoughto stow their suitcases and scant luggage underneath these cots, thenwere conducted to the quartermaster to draw mess kits, blankets,haversacks, and such equipment as is issued to each man as soon aspossible after arrival at a training camp.

  They were ordered to check carefully each article of the Government'sproperty as it was issued to them, and obliged to sign for it. Thisdone, they were conducted back to the receiving barracks, where theyspent the brief interval before mess in neatly arranging their personaland issued property under the cots which they would use onlytemporarily.

  The bugle call to mess found them again falling in for their first tripto a mess hall. Arrived there, they entered and were marched, singlefile, the length of the long room to a counter at one end, where each inturn received a goodly portion in his mess kit of the various eatablesthat went to make up the meal that night. These were served to them bythe soldiers detailed for kitchen work, much in the same fashion thatfood is served in the city cafetarias.

  The furnishings of the mess hall consisted of the counter, two largekitchen ranges, a furnace in the middle of the room, many tables androws of uncomfortably hard wooden benches. Once they had received theirportions of food, the new arrivals were permitted to choose their ownplaces at table.

  All in all it was the plainest fare that the majority of the youngsoldiers had sat down to for many a day, perhaps the first of its kindfor a few of them who had come from homes of affluence. It may be saidto their credit that whatever may have been their mental attitude towardregulation Army fare, they showed no visible signs of discontent, butfell to and ate hungrily.

  Mess over, it but remained to cleanse their mess-kits at sinks providedfor that purpose. Then they were taken back to the barrack where theywere to sleep that night, and where they spent the remaining hours,until Tattoo sounded, in going over their effects and quietly visitingwith one another. Call to quarters sounded at 9:45, to be followed bythe ten o'clock call of Taps.

  Awakened the next morning by the clear notes of a bugle blowing firstcall, the fifty recruits lost little time in scrambling from their cotsand getting hastily into their uniforms before Reveille sounded. Linedup outside the barrack, a sergeant called the roll. This done, the KhakiBoys were allowed a brief twenty minutes before breakfast in which tomake up their cots and perform their morning ablutions at the barracksinks. Breakfast at the same mess hall where they had eaten the previousevening came next, then a return to barracks, followed by the call of"Assembly" at a few minutes past seven.

  Directly afterward they were escorted to the hospital for the finalexamination that was to prove beyond a doubt their physical fitness tobecome soldiers in the National Army of the Republic. Out of the fiftywho went to hospital that morning only three failed to measure up to thestandard, which meant that for them all hope of a military career in thegreat war was ended.

  None of the four "Brothers," however, were among this unlucky trio. BobDalton, Jimmy Blaise, Roger Barlow and Ignace Pulinski were pronouncedphysically fit in every respect. For them, the Glory Road was open sofar as being acceptable specimens of young American manhood went. Theirexaminations ended by eleven o'clock that morning. They were thenregularly sworn into the Army and shortly afterward drew their uniforms.First attempts at donning them were attended with considerabledifficulty. All four had trouble in smoothly adjusting the canvasleggings. Ignace in particular groaned and grumbled at the task untilJimmy mercifully went to his assistance. When fully dressed none of themwere without a feeling of awkwardness. It would take time for them togrow accustomed to their new attire.

  Late afternoon of the same day saw them established at last as membersof Company E, 509th Infantry, in one of the barracks assigned to thatregiment. It had, indeed, been a busy day for the four Khaki Boys. Thebarracks in which they were now quartered was a considerable distancefrom the one in which they had passed their first night in camp. It had,therefore, taken some little time to remove their effects to it, not tomention a further visit to the quartermaster to obtain a number ofnecessary articles which they still lacked.

  Mess over that night, the tired quartette were glad of a chance tolounge in their new quarters, there to discuss among themselves the, tothem, unusual events of that long day. Greatly to their satisfactionthey had not been separated, but occupied four cots together in a row,with Roger and Jimmy in the middle and Ignace and Bob on either side ofthe two.

  "To-morrow our real military life begins," exulted Roger. "I wonder howlong we'll be taken out for drill, and whether we'll be in the samesquad or not?"

  "Hope we don't land in the awkward squad the very first shot," commentedBob. "The drill sergeant's supposed to go easy with rookies for thefirst day or two. An enlisted man I know, who's been in the Army for thepast three years, once told me that it depends a whole lot on theofficer who does the drilling. If he's an old-timer who's seen servicehe's more apt to be patient with a rookie than if he's just won hischevrons. A newly made drill sergeant is more likely to get peppery andbawl a rookie out before the whole squad."

  "I used to know a little bit about this drill game. The last year I wasin grammar school some of us kids got the soldier fever and organized acompany of our own," reminisced Jimmy. "The brother of one of thefellows belonged to the National Guards and he used to drill us. Therewere about twenty of us, and we drilled in our garret once a week for awhole winter. We'd planned to go camping together the next summer andsleep in tents and all that, like real soldiers. Then some of thefellows got to scrapping and our company broke up. We had uniformssomething like those the Boy Scouts wear and wooden guns. Hope I haven'tforgotten what little I learned. Maybe it'll help me now."

  "Shouldn't be surprised if it would." Bob regarded Jimmy with interest."You'll probably be quicker at catching the swing and rhythm of thingsthan the rest of us. Being familiar with the commands ought to helpsome."

  "I am the dumb,
" broke in Ignace, who had been gloomily listening to theconversation of the trio. "If this day I no brother help me what I do?Yet must I be the good solder. I have said an' so am I, som' day."

  "You've done the best you could, old man," comforted Bob. "You'll learn.So don't cry about it!"

  "Never I cry the tear," was the somewhat reproachful retort to Bob'skindly chaffing. "Only the littles an' the 'ooman cry. I am the man. Ino cry my father hit me, I no cry now. So is it."

  It had been anything but a red-letter day for the Pole. Bewildered bythe rapidity with which things happened in Camp Sterling, Ignace hadbeen hustled here and there like a sheep to slaughter. Only the kindlyproddings and promptings of his three self-adopted Brothers had saved himfrom being set down as intolerably stupid in the minds of the efficientofficers and men with whom he had already come in contact.

  In reality Ignace was not as stupid as he appeared. Years ofunremitting, slavish toil had undoubtedly made him slow and clumsy ofmovement. He had not the quick faculty of adapting himself to newconditions, which is one of the most striking characteristics of theAmerican the world over. He was also likely to come to grief frequentlythrough his imperfect knowledge of English. In spite of all thesehandicaps, his will to become a good soldier was so paramount that histhree friends were of the opinion that somehow he would plod along tothat end. Moreover, they had privately agreed among themselves to doall in their power to help him.

  "That's the talk," commended Jimmy. "Never say die till you're dead."

  "Then can I no say," supplemented Ignace so positively as to create ageneral snicker. It dawned upon him that he had provoked it, and a slowgrin overspread his usually immobile face. He was beginning tounderstand the vernacular of his "Brothers."

  "We've got a lot to learn," sighed Roger. "All I can see to do is to getbusy and learn it. I've been trying to look as much like a first-classprivate as I could since I drew my uniform. Jimmy has us all beaten whenit comes to that, though. His uniform blouse looks as though it grew onhim."

  Jimmy appeared radiantly pleased at Bob's candid praise. Unconsciouslyhe drew himself up with a proud little air that was vastly becoming tohim. "Oh, I'm not so much," he demurred.

  "Don't let it go to your head and swell it, Blazes," teased Bob. "Lookat me and think what you might have been. To-night you see before you asimple, hopeful rookie. To-morrow at drill you'll see a sore andhopeless dub. I expect to get mine; but not forever. Live and learn. Ifyou can't learn you've got a right to live, anyhow. A few gentlereminders from a drill sergeant that you're a dummy won't put you inthe family vault. A little mild abuse'll seem like home to me. I'llthink I'm back on the _Chronicle_ listening to the city editor. It takesa newspaper man to read the riot act to a cub reporter. Nothing left outand several clauses added."

  Bob's untroubled attitude toward what lay in wait for him on the morrowhad a cheering effect on Jimmy and Roger. Ignace, however, sat humped upon his cot a veritable statue of melancholy. Decidedly round-shouldered,his stocky figure showed at a glaring disadvantage in the trimolive-drab Army-blouse.

  Jimmy's glance coming to rest on the dejected one, he counseledwarningly: "You'd better practice holding back your shoulders, Iggy.They need it."

  Ignace obediently straightened up. "Too much mill," he explained. "Alltime so." He illustrated by bending far forward. "Mebbe better soon.Huh?"

  "You'll have to keep on the job all the while, then," was Jimmy's bluntassertion.

  "So will I." Ignace sighed, then braced himself upon the edge of his cotto a position of ramrod stiffness that was laughable, yet somehowpathetic. Occupied with the ordeal, he took small part in the low-tonedtalk that continued among his Brothers, but sat blinking at them, nowand then slumping briefly and recovering himself with a jerk. Shortlybefore the 9:45 call to quarters sounded, he dropped over on his cotand went fast asleep. Sound of the bugle brought him to his feet with awild leap and a snort that nearly convulsed his comrades, and broughtthe eyes of a dozen or more of rookies to bear upon him. Among them wasa tall, freckle-faced, pale-eyed youth with a sneering mouth, who bunkeddirectly across the aisle from the four Khaki Boys.

  Viewing Ignace with a grin of malicious amusement, he addressed a remarkto his nearest neighbors that caused them to burst into jeeringlaughter. Quick to catch its scornful import, Jimmy shot an angry glanceacross the room. Beyond an occasional cursory survey of his rookiecompanions of the barrack, he had paid them small attention. Now in hisusual impetuous fashion he conceived an instant dislike for thefreckle-faced soldier, which he never had reason to change. For a secondthe two stared steadily at each other. Across the narrow space sped asilent declaration of war to the knife. Had Jimmy been gifted with theability to read the future, he would have been considerably amazed tolearn what the outcome of that mute declaration was destined to be.