A MASK OF KHAKI
Esky and I left Wakeham at eight o’clock that morning and arrived at the
Camp at eleven thirty to find Leon in the slough of despond because he
couldn’t get a pass for love nor money. We talked over the situation and
every other remark of his had to do with how much he wanted to see Vyvy
“just once more.” Well, I got sick of hearing it, and, although the
sight of this vast military establishment had rather weakened my desire
to go through with my last resort plans, I did finally suggest it to
him.
“You’re insane!” was his first comment, and then he added, rather
huffily, too, “This is no time for jokes.”
“I’m not joking at all,” I told him. “I mean it. Isn’t it perfectly
possible? I’ve got a suit of your civies in the car; we can go outside
and exchange clothes; you take Esky and go home, and I’ll come in here
and make myself at home until you get back. What’s wrong with that? You
said yourself that there’s never anything to do on Saturday and Sunday,
and you can be back here to-morrow afternoon. So what’s wrong with that
picture?”
Still he didn’t seem to take me seriously. “I’d as leave go A.W.O.L.,”
he said.
“Yes? And maybe get caught and sent to Atlanta because you ducked out
when the outfit was expecting travel orders? And you wouldn’t want to
throw up a chance to go overseas anyway. God, I should think you’d be so
excited you couldn’t think straight.”
I could see that he was beginning to weaken, but he promptly thought of
another objection. “What about your hair? You don’t suppose anyone would
be foolish enough to think I had grown hair that long, do you?” He
thought that objection was insurmountable.
But I jumped it at once. “I’d just as leave have my hair cut boy
fashion,” I told him. “Can get it done somewhere in a few minutes’ time.
What do you say?”
Well, he didn’t know what to say. He always was a slower thinker than I
and it took him several minutes to digest the whole idea.
“There isn’t anything that might come up during your absence, is there?
I mean, anything that I couldn’t do?” I asked, before he had time to
answer.
He considered the possibilities for a moment and answered a rather dumb
“No—I guess not. I could show you where everything is anyway.”
“Well—” I said. “Then it’s all settled. Let’s start.”
“But your hair!” he objected again, as if he were reaching for straws of
argument for support, “Aunt Elinor will throw a fit when she sees you
minus your hair.”
“Pooh—what do I care for Aunt Elinor? And anyway, it’ll grow out again.
I can have typhoid fever or something for an excuse. Come on!”
“But, gosh, Leona—you don’t know what you’re getting into.” He was just
arguing for the sake of having something to say. “There’s an awful gang
in that headquarters barracks—swearing all the time, smoking and
chewing, telling dirty rotten stories that’ll make your stomach turn
somersaults. Really, we’d better not——”
“Oh—hush!” I exclaimed. “My stomach’s stronger than yours, old dear, so
if you can stand it, I guess I can for a couple of days anyway. Besides,
I think it will be kinda fun, hearing a lot of things a girl never has a
chance to hear when she’s in dresses.”
He capitulated. “Well, I would like to see Vyvy, and it does sound
fool-proof.”
“Come on, then!”
“Well, you’re making the bed, remember!”
So we set off for his barracks, where he showed me his bunk and
explained about the rules. Then we proceeded to his Colonel’s office
where he obtained a two-hour pass to leave the camp. It was while he was
getting this that I had my first worry. And I didn’t know just how to
ask about it, either, since it’s one of those things that even brother
and sister wouldn’t ordinarily discuss. Finally, however, I said,
“You’re sure there’s nothing that could embarrass me?”
“Not a thing, as long as you use your head and stay out of trouble.”
That didn’t satisfy my curiosity, so I had to blurt out exactly what I
meant. “How about those ‘inspections’ you have to go through every now
and then?”
“What inspections?” he wanted to know. Which convinced me that he is
dumber than I am.
“Why—don’t you have some kind of physical exam every few weeks?” I
insisted.
I was really surprised that he could laugh at such a thing, but he did.
He thought it was a huge joke and kept on smiling about it even after he
told me that there was nothing to worry about from that quarter as they
had just had one of those intimate inspections two days before. I was
very much relieved—and the idea is rather funny, at that, when you stop
to think of it: just imagine me standing in line with a bunch of men and
stepping up to let a doctor look me over! And imagine the look on the
doctor’s face when he saw before him a woman instead of a man! I guess
Leon has a sense of humor after all.
Anyway, we went out to the car then and left the camp, driving way over
to the other side of town to find a little barber shop where no one’s
suspicions might be aroused. I went in, and I admit that I felt rather
foolish for a moment. But there was only one barber there and he was an
Italian that could only understand English when it was accompanied by
very clear gestures. And I told him I had had typhoid fever and
therefore wanted my hair cut short like a boy’s.
He was dumfounded, and acted as if he wouldn’t believe me, so I plopped
into the chair and explained with my hands just how I wanted it cut, so
it would resemble Leon’s as much as possible. Leon, being poetic, never
had his hair cut awfully short anyway, so it really didn’t seem so
strange.
From there we went to a hotel, Leon driving while I tried to make my hat
and the collar of my coat combine to offset the odd effect of the
haircut. Just as we were getting out of the car, another hitch presented
itself to my mind, and I said to Leon, “We can’t change clothes in
there!”
“Why not?” he demanded, his voice sounding as if I had scared the life
out of him.
“Now, wouldn’t it look funny to anyone who noticed us going in—a man
and a girl—and then saw two men come out? If there happened to be
anyone about who recognizes you, he’d smell a mouse immediately.”
I can see now that my fears were practically groundless, but at the time
it seemed as if someone would appear at any moment to divine our
purpose, and Leon finally agreed that perhaps we’d better make our quick
change somewhere else. “But where?”
I had to think hard. We couldn’t go to a private house, for then whoever
saw us would naturally wonder how a man and woman could change to two
men all at once, and particularly a soldier and a girl to begin with. We
couldn’t go anywhere where there would be people. That was apparent at
once, so I finally suggested, “Let’s ride out into the country and find
a nice secluded forest.”
We did this, but didn’t find a woods that could be used for a dressing
room until we had driven more than fifteen miles from the camp. Finally
we spied one, a sort of brush-covered little hill, and Leon went in
first to change into his civies. When he returned, I took his clothes
and came back a few minutes later with my dress, undies, shoes, hat and
coat, in the suit case which I had used to bring down his clothes. We
looked each other over and decided that everything checked. I complained
about the army underwear—I must say that it isn’t any too comfortable
on a girl—but that was a small matter, in view of the fun it was to be.
Then back to camp and in to the Colonel’s office, so that Leon could
show me where all the different “forms” and papers are kept, and what
each was for. That took about half an hour, and just as we were coming
out of the building Leon gave a start of fear and whispered, “Here comes
the Sergeant Major!”
I began to shiver all over. I hadn’t the least idea what I was supposed
to do to a Sergeant Major. I started to salute but for once Leon thought
faster than I; when he jammed his elbow into my ribs, I managed a
foolish grin.
But the Sergeant Major was staring at us and before we had passed him,
he said, in a very friendly tone of voice, “Sorry as hell about the
pass, Canwick. I know you wanted it pretty badly.”
I waited for Leon to say something, then suddenly—realized that it was
I he was addressing, so I spoke up, saying with a grin of thanks,
“Oh—that’s all right, Sergeant. Guess I’ll live through it.” I stopped
and looked at Leon, who had turned his face away. “By the way,
Sergeant,” I offered, “I’d like to introduce you to my twin brother.”
“Surely—glad to meet you.” And he shook hands with Leon before the
other could realize what was going on. Then he added with a laugh, “I
thought you looked a lot alike.”
We all smiled then and I finally tore us away after remarking that my
twin had come down to drive me home, not knowing that I couldn’t get
away. The sergeant-major said “Sorry” again and we separated—I, with a
huge sigh of relief and not a little pride in my ability as a mime.
Well, we didn’t lose any more time, but hurried to the car and out of
the camp. About a quarter of a mile away, I got out, said good-by to
Esky, told Leon not to fail to get back by to-morrow evening, and waved
after them as they rolled away toward Wakeham. Esky acted as if he were
going crazy. He barked and squirmed and yapped, and I guess he had Leon
about crazy by the time they got home.
While walking back to the camp gate, I tried every kind of mental
exercise to make myself think and act like Private Canwick, U.S.A. By
the time I got to the man who took my pass, I was stepping along like a
regular soldier, although my heart skipped about a dozen beats when the
guard looked me up and down as he took my pass.
Once within, however, my self-confidence came back and I wandered
aimlessly around the camp for an hour or more, familiarizing myself with
the location of the main buildings. I visited the Camp Headquarters and
stopped at the Y.M.C.A. Hut, where I purchased some of the stationery
for a souvenir of this unusual adventure. I enjoyed my tour of
inspection immensely and took real delight in saluting every officer I
met. This was certainly a pleasure; every time I saluted, I looked
straight at the officer and said, under my breath, “O Mister, if you
only knew!” It was great fun.
The whole situation struck me as being exceedingly comical—and
exceedingly unique. I have heard and read of many kinds of disguises, of
royalty incognito, of masked heroes and heroines in many kinds of
romance and adventure. I’ve read somewhere, in French and Italian
literature, about lovers who carried on their amours in disguise, and
about men and women who figured prominently in war and politics under
assumed names and behind disguised faces. Medieval legends come to mind,
fanciful tales of heroism by knights in deceiving armor, and of fair
ladies who entertained paramours behind mysterious masks. Joan of Arc
slept with an army, but she was known as a girl by all her soldier
comrades. They say that there was a fighting outfit composed of Russian
women and known as The Battalion of Death, but these soldiers were known
as women also. There have been any number of modern stories and plays
with plots depending upon the use of masks, veils, disguises and
aliases; duels have been fought by women in men’s clothing; and there
was a famous duelist named Chevalier d’Eon, who dressed as a woman every
time he appeared in Paris—because the King had banished him from
Paris—and he had been the recipient of love favors from many courtiers,
who thought he really was a woman. There has from time immemorial been
something very alluring and intriguing about masks and disguises. They
have been used for every conceivable purpose.
Yet I can’t think of a single situation similar to the one in which I
found myself. It is one thing for a man to dress as a woman—nothing
very dangerous in that. It’s not unusual for women to join with men in
the army, as long as they remain women and are known as women. But it’s
quite another thing, a very different and very unusual thing for a girl
to be in the United States Army without anyone knowing about it. In this
particular case, of course, there wasn’t any real danger; but the
situation remained very intriguing. On the face of it, my position was
far more perilous than that of a woman soldier who is known as a
woman—but, at the same time, far more enjoyable, for to be a woman
among men without the men’s knowing it is decidedly interesting, and has
many intriguing possibilities. I thought this about the nearest I’d ever
come to being able to enjoy the liberties and privileges of men, and I
tried to exercise my mind appreciatively.
I had thought of all this during my walk around the camp and was still
smiling inwardly when I returned to the barracks. Several men were
lounging about the door; they offered a matter-of-fact greeting and I
returned their perfunctory hellos with a smile and a nod. I wasn’t quite
sure of my voice. But no one paid particular attention to me, so I
walked on down to my bunk and began a casual investigation of the
assortment of odds and ends that Leon had collected.
Hung at the rear end of the bunk, with his slicker, haversack and
embroidered ditty bag, I found his ukulele and, since I couldn’t think
of anything else to do, I flopped on the bed and began strumming the uke
as accompaniment to my idle dreams about the oddity of the situation. It
occurred to me that if anything should happen to cause my discovery, the
newspapers would make a front-page story of it. The “yellow sheets”
would pay almost any price for my story of the affair, giving all the
lurid details of what I heard and did during these two days of
soldiering. I could visualize the headlines, in big black letters,
carrying to all parts of the country the story of the daring girl who
took her brother’s place in the army so that he could attend a farewell
party with his beloved. After which, wouldn’t it be nice to have golden
offers from half a dozen theatrical producers; it’d be a marvelous way
to break into the lime-lit ranks. What a publicity stunt!
When my thoughts arrived at this point, my fingers were strumming the
uke rather excitedly—sort of muscular sympathy, I guess. Anyway, my
reverie was abruptly ended at this point, for I heard a voice behind me
call “Canwick!” And I rolled out with a start to stare dumbly at a
soldier who appeared to be no higher nor lower than myself. He didn’t
wait for me to say anything, just rattled out his message and
disappeared. He said—I recall it distinctly because I said it over and
over about a dozen times before I could decide what to do about
it—“Canwick, Colonel Davison is at Regimental Headquarters. You’re to
report to him there at once.”
Those words marked the end of my brief spell of dreamy pleasure. The
hitherto comic lark promptly developed into a very serious series of
disturbing developments. After digesting the orderly’s message, I
decided that there was nothing to do but report to Colonel Davison—the
which I proceeded to do, and came into his presence with my heart in my
throat and my knees feeling rather unstable. It was lucky that I knew
where the headquarters were and what the Colonel looked like; but I
wasn’t counting any blessings or naming them one by one at that moment
when I wavered into his presence, and offered a weak “Yes, sir,” after a
comic opera salute.
“Canwick,” the Colonel said abruptly, “I’ve praised you so much that now
I have to pay for the praise by losing your services.”
“Oh, no, sir!” I exclaimed, entirely at sea.
“Yes,” he insisted. “General Backett has decided that he needs your
services more than I do, so you and I must part. You’ve worked yourself
into an enviable place, and I’m sure you will like General Backett.” He
stopped, looked at me a moment then added, “Are you sorry?”
Well, he didn’t sound any more like a hard-boiled regular army officer
than nothing at all and when he asked me that question, I was still so
dumfounded that all I could manage was, “Uh-h—yes, sir, I am, sir.”
At that he laughed and continued, “Well, I’m sorry to lose you. You were
the ideal man for my work.... But then I wouldn’t want to hold you back
on that account. Doubtless General Backett will show his appreciation by
a promotion.”
“Is this—is this effective at once?” I inquired, hoping that he would
say “Monday.”
But he didn’t. He said, “Yes, to-day. It happens that General Backett’s
special clerk has been down with blood poisoning for a week and that
none of the men who have been tried as substitutes have satisfied the
General. It seems now that the special clerk will not be able to go
overseas with the organization and General Backett has taken my word for
the fact that you can fill the bill. So you report to him at once and
then come back to my office and straighten up the papers for your
successor.” He arose then and extended his hand, “And if I don’t see you
again, be assured of my best wishes, Canwick.”
I shook hands and stumbled out of the place. I was sorry to leave him. I
mean, it seemed a shame to leave such a nice officer on such short
notice.
Upon inquiry of an orderly I learned that General Backett’s office was
in the next building and I proceeded there at once, despite my chills
and shivers of apprehension. I didn’t know whether Leon was supposed to
have met this General man before or not, but since introductions don’t
count for much in the army anyway, I decided to act very stiff and
formal and see which way the wind bloweth. So I waltzed in and told the
orderly what I wanted and who I was and who sent me, and a few minutes
later I was escorted into the General’s sanctum sanctorum. I took one
good look at him and would have beat a retreat because he looked so
gruff and hard, but when he spoke his voice showed that he wasn’t that
way at all.
“You’re Canwick, eh?” he asked, in a tone that made me like him at once.
“Yes, sir,” said I, smiling a little, because at the moment I noticed
how big and awkward he seemed for a man who had spent his life in the
army.
“Well, Canwick, you’ve been invited to accompany me on a long hard
journey, and the work begins at once. My man is down with blood
poisoning and I must leave before he can get out of the hospital. I’ve
tried a dozen clerks, but none have satisfied me and I’m taking Colonel
Davison’s word for it that you will. So you see you have a reputation to
uphold.” He smiled encouragingly.
I was shaking inside but I managed to say, “I’ll do my best, sir.”
He smiled again and continued, “In taking you, I am looking to the
future, to a certain extent, because I believe I will need someone who
is able to interpret French and at the same time take dictation and help
in compiling reports. None of that will come now, of course, but will
probably come sometime after we arrive in France. For the time being
there are merely routine forms and letters to be done, and since there
are about a million of these to be cleaned up before we go, you’d better
do whatever you have to do and come back ready for work.”
Well, I didn’t have anything to do that I knew of, and I intimated as
much, whereupon he said, “Your transfer papers—get your personnel
officer to see to that. Also get your equipment and replace everything
that can’t stand inspection. By the time you return, I’ll have these
matters in order and we’ll go to work.”
So I said “Yes, sir” and left. It seemed to me he was in a terrible
hurry and I hadn’t the least idea who this “personnel officer” might be.
I started to think the thing out, but then I remembered that everyone
always said that a private wasn’t supposed to think, so I just proceeded
to do the only thing I could do—namely, find the Sergeant Major and
tell him what was what and ask how.
I found him in the Y.M.C.A. listening to a phonograph record of the
Marine Band, but when I told him what had happened, he promptly came
along with me to the headquarters, spoke to an officer about me and told
me he’d have the transfer fixed up at once. I asked him what I should do
next and he laughed and told me to pack up my junk and have it ready to
move to the Divisional Headquarters barracks when he came back. So I did
and he finally came back, and I then moved—wondering, as I did so, what
Leon would do if he returned to his old bunk before seeing me and
learning about the change.
Then I reported back to the Colonel and told him what the General had
told me. He was very nice about it—I guess all Colonels are always nice
about anything a General wants—and he told me not to bother about his
records, that he would get them straightened out without trouble. I
guess he, too, wanted this fellow Canwick for future rather than present
work.
Back to the General’s office. And when he said he had a million things
to do, he minimized matters by about that number, for he kept me going
for three hours, and left more to be done in the morning. He dictated at
least a million letters—and poor me just by luck seeing an old letter
with the form FROM: TO: SUBJECT: on it, which just saved me from
addressing the first letter to “My dear Secretary of War.” There was
another million of blank forms to be filled out and half the things I
didn’t know beans about, but he was awfully nice about everything and
seemed to think it was perfectly natural that I should be ignorant about
some of them. Anyway, I worked until I was dizzy. And the General smoked
the vilest cigars I ever smelled. I bought a package of cigarettes—I
just had to practice up smoking—in self-defense.
I wrote to Leon by Special Delivery. He’d have to get back by next
afternoon, because from the way this General man talked, they were
leaving that night, and I’d have to see Leon for long enough to explain
about some of those things. And he’d have to know this General on sight.
Well, he ought to be happy: he’d wanted to get in with a General.
Whew—if it were me, I’d rather be a real soldier, than have to work
this hard all the time. I was actually dizzy.
I hoped Leon didn’t tell Vyvy about me. I didn’t want her blabbing it
all over the place. It didn’t seem like such a grand experience just
now. And I hoped he was enjoying her party; if all this were in vain,
I’d swoon like an olden heroine. I knew Auntie was having all kinds of
fits about now!
Oho, for the life of a soldier!... I know I haven’t mentioned every
detail of interest in this adventure—and especially some of the
funniest ones, like the cave-manly form of the man in the next bunk and
the discussion of social diseases which was going on up in the other end
of the barracks, not to mention certain problems of nature which had to
be solved at the expense of distinct concessions on the part of a
maiden’s modesty. But then, I can remember these things, if I think hard
enough. I certainly had never experienced anything like this before, nor
probably ever would again. I only hoped nothing would happen to make me
regret this escapade, for it was fun to be in with a crowd of men and
have them think you’re a man, too. My education went forward by leaps
and bounds that day!
Never again would I pity myself for being tired: I was so all in by
night that I could giggle into hysterics without the slightest
provocation. For safety’s sake I turned in but you can rest assured that
I didn’t remove as much of my clothes as the man in the next bunk did.
This was a case of the proverbial shoe: it makes all the difference in
the world which foot it’s on.