A CORPORAL AT LAST
Returned from drill that afternoon, Bob, Jimmy and Roger were jubilant
to learn that Ignace had escaped the guard-house. They were also greatly
surprised, and not a little pleased to hear from him of the sturdy stand
Schnitzel had taken in his behalf.
"It was white in Schnitzel to do that," lauded Jimmy. "I'll bet it
helped some, even if he couldn't say he'd really seen Bixton do anything
crooked. I'd just like to know why that sneak was fishing around my cot.
After my suitcase, maybe. But what would he want that's in there?"
"Most any little thing that he didn't happen to have and took a fancy
to," shrugged Bob.
"More likely he wanted to get at your side of the rack and do some
mischief to your clothing," was Roger's sage opinion. "Slash your
overcoat or cut all the buttons off it, or do something of that sort.
I've heard that he has plenty of money to spend, and that he gets lots
of stuff from home. He was out to do something malicious rather than
steal. He's the kind of a man that holds a grudge."
"There's something in that," nodded Bob reflectively. "Well, he's canned
for a while, anyhow. He'll have to lie low and mind his p's and q's.
Hope he doesn't try later to take his spite out on Schnitzel. I guess
Schnitzel's not afraid of him, though. What he did for Iggy proves that
much."
"Schnitzel's too much of a man to let a sneak like Bixton get his goat,"
asserted Jimmy. "He'll plod along just as he's done before and pretend
not to notice that yellow cur. We ought to do something to show
Schnitzel that we think he's O. K. I've never had much to say to him
'cause I've always thought he'd rather be let alone. Now I'm going to
make a stab at getting acquainted with him."
"So stab I, too," agreed Ignace promptly, which raised a laugh at his
expense.
"You've done enough 'stabbing' to hold you for a while." The smile faded
from Jimmy's lips. "Do you know that your thirty days'll be up just one
day after Thanksgiving? You've given the 'strong poonch' to a plan of
mine. I wanted all three of you fellows to go home with me for
Thanksgiving. I'd already fixed it up with Mother. Now you've gone and
queered yourself on my account, so I guess we'd all better stay here
for Thanksgiving and keep you company."
Ignace eyed Jimmy wistfully. "No," he announced with heroic
positiveness, "never you stay here for the Thankgivin'. You go home,
along Bob and Roger. You stay here, I am the mad. No speak you, no look
you, no nothin'. I am no the pig. You go by Jimmy?" he demanded
anxiously of Roger and Bob.
"This is so sudden," murmured Bob. "It takes my breath."
"You and Jimmy will have to settle it between you, Iggy," laughed Roger.
"It's not up to Bob and me to choose. All I have to say is that it's
mighty fine in you and your folks, Blazes, to want us with you for our
Thanksgiving furlough."
"It certainly is," Bob agreed warmly.
"You see?" Ignace turned triumphantly to Jimmy. "Bob and Roger want go
by your house. So is it." Having made up his mind on this important
point, Ignace was firm.
True to his word, that very evening Jimmy sought out Schnitzel and
invited him to go for a stroll about the camp, in company with Bob and
Roger. The man's gloomy face brightened perceptibly as he somewhat
hesitatingly rose from his cot, laid aside a book he had been reading,
and followed Jimmy to the stairs, where his two friends stood waiting.
Due to his reticent, stand-offish manner, it was the first invitation
of the kind he had received since his arrival at Camp Sterling.
Bixton's malicious intimations against him had done far less to
ostracize him than had his own hurt pride. Keenly sensitive of his
German parentage, the first whisper against his loyalty to the Flag had
caused him to retreat into his shell.
It is said that out of evil some good must eventually come. The
disturbance between Ignace and Bixton resulted at least in awakening in
the minds of Iggy's bunkies a genuine interest in Schnitzel, which was
one day to prove his salvation. Though he responded rather shyly to
their kindly overtures, he made a favorable impression on all three,
and, in his reserved fashion, soon grew to be on fairly friendly terms
with them. With Ignace he appeared to be even a trifle more at ease. He
had not forgotten the little incident of the mess hall. Ignace had come
to him at a moment when he most needed companionship. That he was
grateful he had summarily proved.
Meanwhile both participants in the fight were feeling the effects of
their breach of good conduct. Added to their daily routine of drill was
hard work and plenty of it, not to mention the loss of all privileges,
confinement to the company street, and the too-searching eyes of the top
sergeant keeping tab on their movements.
Ignace did not so much mind the hard work. He had never been used to
anything else. Loss of privileges and confinement to the company street
were his chief crosses. Though November was fast slipping away, the
weather had remained mild. There had been plenty of sunshine and little
rain. In consequence, his Brothers spent much of their leisure time
out-of-doors, and it grieved Ignace not a little not to be in a position
to accompany them on their frequent jaunts about the camp, or on brief
expeditions to Glenwood.
Bixton, on the contrary, resented far more than loss of privileges and
confinement to company street, the amount of hard work he was made to
perform. He disdainfully regarded the various camp labors imposed upon
him as servant's tasks. Brought up in idleness by a too-adoring widowed
mother, his enlistment had come about as the result of a disagreement
with her over money.
From the moment in which he had begun to realize that the Army had "got"
him, he had become at heart a slacker. He had been careful not to let it
be suspected, however, among the men in his barrack.
Spiteful by nature, he was ready to make any man whom he did not like an
escape-valve for his pent-up malice against the military. He had picked
Schnitzel as his first victim, but without any special success. The
German-American had refused to quarrel with him or notice his petty
attempts to torment him. He had accordingly started upon Ignace, thereby
drawing down upon himself Jimmy's hearty dislike, which he had returned
with equal intensity. As Roger had surmised, Bixton's stealthy trip
across the squad room had to do with certain dark designs on Jimmy's
equipment, best known to the author of them. The drubbing Ignace had
given him, followed by the summons before the K. O., died into
insignificance beside the unexpected move Schnitzel had made against
him. He now had but one object in life: to "get even" with "that German
snake."
If Franz Schnitzel suspected Bixton of harboring plans for revenge, he
kept it to himself. When in company with the four Brothers, Bixton's
name seldom crossed his lips. Warned by the impetuous Jimmy to "look out
for that hound," he merely replied, "I'm not afraid of him." No one save
himself knew of the alert watch he kept on himself and his belongings.
If Bixton tried to "put anything over on him," he proposed to be ready
to hold his own.
With the middle of November came the first signs of approaching winter.
Light falls of snow blanketed the camp and the nights grew cold. Thanks
to the beneficent efforts of that indefatigable band of Army welfare
workers, the Red Cross, Uncle Sam's boys at Camp Sterling were the
grateful recipients of extra quilts, sweaters, knitted wristlets and
warm under-clothing. Among the more fortunately-situated soldiers, such
as Jimmy Blaise, who were already well supplied with every comfort,
these unexpected gifts were passed on by them to more needy comrades.
Due to delay in the turning on of steam heat in the barracks, these
extra quilts were particularly welcome. After the hard day's routine of
outdoor drill, the tired soldier boys had on more than one night found
their allotted bed covers insufficient against the snapping cold. It was
the first real discomfort they had encountered since their enlistment,
and the majority of the camp contingent accepted it in the spirit of
true veterans.
Veterans they were fast becoming. All traces of the rookie had long
since vanished. They had acquired the erect carriage and long,
purposeful stride that indelibly marks a man the world over as belonging
or having once belonged to the military. Each day saw them engaged in
learning or perfecting some necessary part of the soldier's trade.
Strenuous practice hikes about camp, bayonet drills, trench instruction,
target practice, together with the thousand and one details of military
training, now entered into their scheme of life.
Among them all, there was no finer example than Jimmy Blaise of what
military training will do for a young man. He was not only a joy to look
at, so far as soldierly bearing went. He was also verifying the early
promise he had shown of inevitably rising from the lowly private to the
rank of a non-commissioned officer. Off duty and among his bunkies he
was the same easy-going Jimmy. On duty he was a man who regarded the
Service as a religion and lived up to it devotedly. Whatever he was
ordered to do he did, with an intelligence and finish which marked him
as one who keenly _felt_ his responsibility.
No one except himself was greatly surprised when, just a week before
Thanksgiving, he received a warrant from Washington, which signified
that his appointment to a corporalship had been approved by Major
Sterns, his commanding officer. So far as friendliness can be
demonstrated in the Army between a commissioned officer and an enlisted
man, Jimmy stood well in the estimation of the major.
Strangely enough it was his knowledge of automobiles which had brought
him first notice from the commanding officer. The removal of a man, who
had acted as the major's chauffeur, to another training camp had caused
the K. O. to look about him for a substitute. It having reached the ears
of Sergeant Dexter that "Blaise owned a car and knew a lot about buzz
wagons," he had promptly acquainted the major with the fact. The result
was that Jimmy was detailed one Sunday afternoon to drive the K. O. into
Tremont. This trip was the first of other similar expeditions in the
major's service. His delight in them was scarcely greater than that of
his bunkies. Though Bob and Roger teasingly accused him of "being raised
a pet" and warned him against "getting the big head," they were
unenviously glad of his good luck.
So it was that when, on the momentous afternoon of his rise from the
ranks, he proudly confided to them the great news, they received it with
a jubilation second only to his own.
"You're hiking right along on the Glory Road, old man," was Bob's hearty
congratulation as he wrung Jimmy's hand.
"Mebbe soon top sergeant," averred Ignace hopefully, his solemn face
wreathed with smiles.
"Then you'll lose your bunkie, Iggy," teased Bob. "Top sergeants are
rare, exclusive birds, you know. They roost on the roof of the barracks
with their heads in the air. They have their uses, though. They stop
fights, quell frays and disorders and----"
"Oh, chop it," cut in Jimmy in sheepish protest. "The war'll be over
long before I ever get that far. You fellows will probably be corporals,
before long. I hope so. I'm not so much." It was Jimmy's favorite
summing-up of himself. "Course I'm glad it happened. I guess it was just
luck, though. Anyway, I'm going to be a bully good corp. if I can. No
half-way business about it. I don't expect to go any higher in a hurry.
I wouldn't care to, unless I could take you fellows along with me. I'd
rather be one of the four Brothers than a rare bird that roosts on top
of the barracks. I'd rather stay with the gang and see what happens."