CHAPTER XIV
SOMEWHAT DIFFERENT
Out of the gray, chilly, and silent dawn came the sharp notes of abugle. The sound echoed among the mist-enshrouded hills, the notesvibrating in and out among the trees, and then seemed to die away inthe distance.
But if any one of the several thousand prospective soldiers, sleepingthe sleep of the more or less just in the tents of Camp Dixton, thoughtit was but a dream, those notes of the bugle, he was sadly, if notrudely, awakened when the sound came with greater insistence, as ifcalling over and over again:
“Get up! Get up! You must get up!”
“I say, Ned!” lazily called Bob from his bed amid the blankets on theground under a khaki tent, “what day is it?”
“What difference does that make?” asked Ned. “What time is it?”
“You ought to know without asking, when you hear that _horn_,” gruntedJerry.
“Horn? Bugle you mean,” came a voice from the other corner of thetent, if a conical tent, the shape used in the army, can be said tohave “corners.”
“Have it your own way,” assented Jerry. “I’m anxious to know what Bobmeant by asking what day it was.”
“If it’s only Sunday we’ll get a chance to rest,” explained the stoutChunky, peering out from under his blankets. For he and the others hadwrapped up well, as the night had been chilly.
“Chance to rest!” exclaimed Ned. “Say, we haven’t _done_ anything yet.”
“Done anything!” challenged Bob. “Don’t you call that drill we wentthrough yesterday anything?”
“Just a little setting up exercise, and some marching to get you toknow your hay foot from your straw foot,” commented the tall lad. “Ifyou’re going to kick about that the second day in camp what will happenin about a week?”
“Oh, I’m not kicking,” hastily said Bob. “In fact, I’m too lame andsore to kick. And my arm feels like a boil.”
“Anti-typhus germs,” explained Ned. “You’ll be a whole lot worse beforeyou’re better. We have to have two more injections, I understand.”
The rousing notes of the bugle, “rousing” in a double sense, againsounded, and, not without considerable grumbling and growling, inwhich even Jerry, by the look on his face at least, seemed to join,the boys got up and prepared for another day in camp--their second.
The young volunteers, with a lot of other recruits, had reached thecamp ground the day before, but there was so much confusion, so manynew arrivals, and such a general air of orderly disorder about theplace, that the impressions Ned, Bob, and Jerry received were mixed.
Camp Dixton was situated in one of the Southern states, and was laidout on a big plain at the foot of some hills, which, as they rosefarther to the west, became sizable mountains. The plain which had,until within a short time of the laying out of the cantonments, beenseveral large farms, consisted of level ground, with a few places wherethere were low rounded hills and patches of wood. It was an ideallocation for a camp, giving opportunity for drills and sham battlesover as great a diversity of terrain as might be found in Flanders orFrance.
As to the camp itself, it was typical of many that have since sprungup all over the United States to care for the large army, or armies,that are constantly being raised. And the building of Camp Dixton, likethe making of all the others, had been little short of marvelous. Onwhat had been, a few months before, a series of farms, there was now amilitary city.
The place was laid out like a model city. The barracks for the soldierswere, of course, made of rough wood, and few of them were painted,but there was time enough for that. A great level, center space hadbeen set aside as a parade ground, and in the midst of this was thedivision headquarters. North and south of the parade ground were thelong rows of “streets” lined with the wooden buildings, some of whichwere sleeping quarters, some cook houses and others places where theofficers lived.
There were long rows of warehouses, into which ran railroad sidings;there were an ice house, an ice plant, a big laundry, a theater, andmany other buildings and establishments such as one would find in acity.
As for the military units themselves, there were infantry, cavalry,machine gun companies, artillery companies, a motor corp and even asmall contingent of aeroplanes.
On their arrival the day before, Ned, Bob, and Jerry, with the otherrecruits, had been met at the railroad station by a number of officers,who looked very spick and span in their olive-drab uniforms, with theirbrown leather leggings polished until one could almost see his face inthem.
In columns of four abreast, carrying their handbags and suitcases, thenew soldiers were marched up to camp, a most unmilitary looking lot,as the boys themselves admitted.
A few at a time, the lads were ushered into booths, where officers tooktheir names, records, and other details, then they were given somethingto eat.
“For all the world like a sort of picnic in a new mining town,” as Nedwrote home.
Then had come a preliminary drill, and some setting-up exercises. Theboys were so tired out from this, and from their journey, that no onethought of anything but bed when it was over.
“And now we’ve got to do it all over again,” murmured Bob, as he beganto dress. “This is somewhat different from what we were used to athome. Home was never like this!”
“Quit your kicking!” exclaimed Jerry. “Aren’t you glad you’re in this,and are going to help lick the Huns?”
“Sure I am!” declared the stout lad.
“Then keep still about it!”
“Say, I’ve got a right to kick if I want to, as long as I get up whenthe bugle calls,” declared Bob. “It’s the constitutional right of afree-born American citizen to kick, and I’m doing it!”
“Showing you how much like the mule an otherwise perfectly good fellowcan become,” murmured Ned, and then he had to duck to get out of theway of a shoe that Bob tossed at him.
“Come on, fellows! Hustle!” called a non-commissioned officer,thrusting his head in the doorway of the tent where the boys weredressing. “Roll call soon!”
“We’ll be there,” announced Ned. “I hope we get shifted to one of thebarracks to-day,” he went on. “It’s a bit damp in this tent.”
“Yes, a wooden shack will be better,” agreed Jerry.
Most of the new arrivals were in the wooden buildings, but in the hurryand confusion of the day before, some had to be assigned temporarilyto tents. New barracks were in the course of construction, however,to accommodate the constantly growing number of volunteers. Later thegreat camps would be filled with the men of the draft.
When Ned had finished his hasty dressing, he strolled over to look atthe posted notice in the tent, which gave a list of the day’s dutiesand the hours for drills. The bulletin was headed “Service Roll Calls.”
The first thing in the order of the day is reveille, but this ispreceded by what is known as “First call.” This is sounded at 5:45 inthe morning, rather an early hour, as almost any one but a milkman willconcede. But one gets used to it, as Bob said later.
“First call” is a series of stirring notes on the bugle which has forits purpose the awakening of the buglers themselves, to get them outof their snug beds to give the reveille proper. March and reveillecome ten minutes later, the buglers marching up and down the streetsin front of the tents and barracks, and “blowing their heads off,”to quote Jerry Hopkins. This is calculated to awaken each and everyrookie, but if it fails the various squad leaders see to it that no oneis missed.
“Assembly,” is the call which comes at six o’clock, and then woe betidethe recruit who is not dressed and in line, standing at attention. Ascan be seen, there is but five minutes allowed for dressing; that is,if a man does not awaken until the reveille sounds. If he opens hiseyes at first call, and gets up then, he has fifteen minutes to primp,though this is generally saved for dress parade. Roll call follows theassembly.
On this morning, when it had been ascertained that all were “presentor accounted for,” Ned, Bob, and Jerry
, with their new comrades, weredismissed to wash for breakfast. With soap and towels there was ageneral rush for the wash room, and then followed a healthful splashing.
“It isn’t like our bathroom at home,” said Bob, as he polished hisface, “but I suppose the results are the same.”
“Sure,” agreed Ned. “They have showers here, and that’s more than theyhave in some camps, yet, I hear.”
“We’ll need a shower after drill,” declared Jerry. “It’s going to behot and dry to-day.”
Breakfast was the next call, only it was not called that. It was downon the schedule as “mess,” and so every meal was designated though, ofcourse, in their own minds, each recruit thought of the first meal asbreakfast, the second as dinner, and the third as supper. But to thearmy cook each meal was a “mess.”
But before breakfast the boys had to make up their beds. They had beengiven a lesson in that the previous day. Soon after their arrival therecruits were divided into squads, and under the guidance of a squadleader they were taken to a big pile of straw and told to fill theheavy, white cotton bags that were to serve in the place of mattresses.There was a hole in the middle of the bag, and through this the strawwas poked, and the whole made as smooth as possible on the bunks.
After their first night, Ned, Bob, and Jerry were transferred toa wooden barracks. When they carried the straw mattresses to thisbuilding, they found that each squad room contained about fifty bunksarranged around the walls, with two rows down the middle. On eachbunk, besides the mattress, or “bedsack,” as it is officially called,were a pillow and three blankets. These must be neatly arranged afterthe night’s sleep. Beds in a military camp are not made up until justbefore they are used, but during the day the blankets must be neatlyfolded, laid on the bunks and the pillow placed on top of the blankets.
There were no clothes closets, and the only place Ned, Bob and Jerryhad to put their things was on a shelf back of each lad’s bunk, andon some nails, driven into the wall near by. On these were all thepossessions they were allowed, and, as can be imagined, they were notmany--or would not be, once the boys were in uniform.
As yet, none of the new recruits wore a uniform. All were dressed justas they had come from their homes, and there was the usual variety seenat any baseball game.
“Mess call!” sang out Jerry, as he and his chums heard the notes of thebugles again. This time the call seemed to the boys to be more cheerful.
“I hope they have something good for breakfast,” murmured Bob, and thistime his chums did not laugh at him. They were as hungry as he was.
The Motor Boys in the Army; or, Ned, Bob and Jerry as Volunteers Page 14