NO LONGER "JUST ROOKIES"
As the September days glided by, Bixton's threat of speedy vengeance
bore no apparent fruit. Whether he was lying in wait for a good
opportunity to discredit the four Khaki Boys, or whether he was only the
proverbial barking dog that never bites, they neither knew nor cared. To
their great relief, the story of the fight did not reach the ear of the
acting first sergeant. Thus Ignace escaped the disgrace of being
punished in his very first week at Camp Sterling.
On hearing an account of the affair from Ignace himself, Roger was less
inclined than ever to blame him for what had happened. He did not say so
to Ignace, however. Instead, he sharply pointed out to the crest-fallen
pugilist that two wrongs never made a right. He also privately warned
Bob and Jimmy, who had been told of the fracas, not to let their
sympathies run away with them.
Impetuous Jimmy, however, found it very hard to repress openly, to
Ignace, his own satisfaction at the latter's recent uprising. He
secretly wished that Ignace _had_ given Bixton a sound thrashing and
"gotten away with it." Slow of comprehension in some respects, the
Polish boy was not too obtuse to divine Jimmy's attitude toward him. In
consequence, he hung about the latter with a dog-like fidelity that
signally amused Roger and Bob. Devoted as he was to his three Brothers,
Jimmy was rapidly becoming his idol.
The passing of days saw all four young men making progress in the
business of soldiering. As has been already stated, Jimmy showed the
most dash and snap in that direction. He took to military procedure like
a duck to water, and "went to it" heart and soul. Easily the most
efficient man in his squad, he was on the road to a corporalship, though
he did not suspect it. He drilled with the same zest he would have put
into a football game and prided himself on his prompt ability to execute
correctly a new movement immediately it had been explained to him. It
was the glory rather than the duty of being a good soldier that most
impressed him.
On the other hand, Bob and Roger regarded it more from the duty angle.
This was only natural, considering that both men had been obliged, when
in civil life, to shift for themselves. They tackled drill as they would
have wrestled with a new job. It interested but did not enthrall them.
It was a means to an end. That end meant, to them, Bob in particular,
active service in France. He looked upon "Going Over" as the supreme
adventure. If he survived he intended to come home and write a book
"that would sell like hot cakes."
Iggy's noblest aspiration was to do well and so stay in the same squad
with Jimmy and Bixton. Devotion to the former and spite against the
latter swayed him equally. He knew that Jimmy was as desirous of his
welfare as Bixton was of his downfall. This double motive inspired him
to good works. Back of it all, undoubtedly, he was a true patriot. His
enlistment in the Army proved that. For the time being, however, the
glory of being a soldier was lost in the difficulty of trying to stay
one. The drill sergeant was the most awe-inspiring figure on his
horizon. Long afterward when the four Brothers had proved their mettle
in far-off France, he had been heard to declare soulfully: "Go Over Top
no so bad. One drill sergeant more worse twenty Tops!"
In spite of his encounter with Bixton, Ignace was still seized with
spells of reciting his rules aloud. It did not take his companions of
the barracks long to discover the nature of his frequent fits of
mumbling. When it gradually became noised about in the squad-room that
Bob Dalton had composed them for his bunkie's benefit, he was besieged
for copies of them. Though he refused to supply them, he good-naturedly
recited such as he could recall to several of the men. Very soon hardly
a day passed when he was not asked to give one or more of them. As a
result it was not long before they achieved the popularity of a topical
song and at least half the occupants of the squad-room could recite one
or more of them. In time they became circulated throughout the camp and
long after Bob had left Camp Sterling behind for "Over There," his
"Military Maneuvers in Rhyme" were passed on to newcomers and gleefully
quoted.
October saw the four Khaki Boys long since emerge from the School of the
Soldier into the School of the Squad. They had now mastered the basic
principles of military training and were beginning to feel a little more
like Regulars. They now knew the Manual of Arms and had been fully
instructed in the use, nomenclature and care of their rifles. They were
no longer just "rookies."
Their periods of drill had been gradually lengthened until they were now
putting in the same amount of time as the seasoned men. From half-past
seven in the morning until dismissal by a sergeant at half-past eleven,
they were kept at work learning soldiering. One o'clock Assembly marked
the beginning of the afternoon drill period, which lasted until
half-past four with thirty minutes' intermission before Retreat.
Thus far none of the quartette had troubled themselves much concerning
"passes," those magic bits of scribbled paper that meant permission to
quit camp limits for a few brief hours of civil life. Once or twice they
had obtained leave to spend an evening in Glenwood, a village about
three miles from Camp Sterling.
"What we ought to do is to all get a pass, go to Tremont and take in a
good show," was Bob's opinion one evening as the four boys sat talking
together in barracks. "We could get off at noon some Saturday and be
back by midnight. That would give us the afternoon to see the town, a
bang-up supper at a first-class restaurant and a show afterward. Oh,
boy! Oh, joy! I can just see us doing it."
"That sounds good to me," glowed Jimmy. "I've been going slow on the
pass business 'cause I want to ask for one from Saturday until Monday
morning, so that I can go home. Every letter I get from Mother lately
she asks me when I'm coming home. But I guess if I'm good maybe I can
get off with you fellows and get the pass home, too."
"Let me see. This is Thursday. Why not make it for day after to-morrow?"
proposed Bob. "With pay-day only yesterday we've all got money to spend.
Why let it burn in our pockets? Use up and earn more's my motto."
"I'd like to take a trip to Tremont," nodded Roger. "We've all worked
good and hard since we came here. It's time for a little harmless
recreation."
"You can count me in," readily assured Jimmy.
"I can no go," stated Ignace regretfully.
"Why not?" Jimmy demanded. "What's going to hinder you?"
"I have no the monies. A little, yes, but no much. So stay I here.
Anyhow, you go. I very glad for you have the fon. While you way think I
to you," Ignace added with a sigh.
"No money! For goodness' sake, where is it? You just drew---- I beg your
pardon, Iggy." Jimmy colored hotly. "I shouldn't have asked such a nosey
question. Forget it."
"Ask all thing you want ask all time." Ignace accompanied this gracious
permission with a sweeping flourish of his hand. "You are the Brother.
So have you the good right. Firs' think I no say nothin'. Anyhow, now I
tell. I am to poor my mother the bad son for that I run way. When I home
give her all monies no my father take. Now I here she have the nothin'
for long time. He my father give only for the rent an' the eat. No much
the eat. In my house are the three littles, two sister an' one brother.
So have I nother brother. He have sixteen year. Work hard but every week
get only the five dollar, an' my father take mos'. Now have I the pay
sen' all my mother. Only I keep two dollar. It is enough here, but no
for have the eat, the show, the good time Bob say. Som' day go along
Tremont. No now. I am the broke." Ignace looked mildly triumphant at
having been able to express himself in slangy Bob's vernacular.
"You may be 'the broke,' Iggy, but you've got a solid gold heart!"
exclaimed Bob, his shrewd black eyes growing soft. "I call that mighty
white in you. Never you mind, if we can get the passes you come along
with us just the same. I'll do the treating and glad to at that."
"Count me in on that," emphasized Jimmy. "My dough is yours, Iggy. You
can draw on it till it gives out."
"Same here," smiled Roger, who had been signally touched by the broken
little tale of sacrifice.
"No, no!" The Pole's tones indicated stubborn finality. "I can no do.
Thank. You are the too good all. I know; un'erstan'. I have for me what
you call it, the respet. So mus' I the no say an' stay by the camp. You
ask me more, I no like; feel fonny mad!"
Ignace's characterization of hurt self-respect as "fonny mad" raised a
laugh. That, at least, did not disturb him. He merely grinned and
remarked tranquilly: "You make the fon one poor Poley."
The plan for a journey into Tremont, having been duly discussed, it but
remained to the three young men to obtain the desired passes for
Saturday afternoon. Tremont was the only city of importance within a
radius of seventy-five miles. It lay about twenty miles east of the
camp. Soon after the making of Camp Sterling a line of automobile busses
had sprung up to do a thriving business between there and Tremont. There
were also many regularly licensed jitney automobiles that went to and
fro for the accommodation of both soldiers and visitors, not to mention
their own individual profit.
"We can go to Tremont in one of those Cinderella pumpkins for
seventy-five cents, or we can give up a plunk apiece and ride in style
in a jit. You pays your money and you takes your choice," declared Bob.
At first sight he had attached the appellation of Cinderella pumpkins to
the big yellow uncomfortable busses operated by a business concern in
Tremont.
"Me for a regular buzz wagon. I wouldn't wear out my bones bouncing
around in one of those bumpety-bump Noah's Arks if I was paid to ride in
it," objected Jimmy disdainfully.
"What's a quarter more beside Jimmy Blazes's delicate little bones!"
jeered Bob.
"Did you ever ride in one of those rattle-traps?" retorted Jimmy.
"No, my son, and I don't intend to," beamed Bob. "I've seen other
fellows ride in 'em."