THE VISIT TO CAMP MILLS
As Nathalie reached the booth she glanced quickly about; no one was in
sight. With a hurried movement she drew a letter from the bag that hung
from her wrist, and after glancing at the written words, “To whomsoever
this Comfort Kit may come, greetings and good wishes,” she slipped out
the enclosure and slowly read:
“Dear Mr. Soldier Boy:
“Please remember that you are going to fight under the banner of
the Cross, which means that you belong to a Christian nation
whose motto is, ‘In God we Trust.’ Hold to the feeling that you
are a gentleman by the culture—not ‘Kultur’—that comes from
kindliness, courtesy, and consideration for all people, so
please don’t kill anybody unless you have to.
“Don’t forget that you are an American patriot, and that your
heart is seared with the Stars and Stripes, which means the red
of courage, the white of purity, and the blue of royal devotion
to the right, and starred with the divine fire of liberty.
“Remember you are fighting for the mothers and children: yes,
fighting so the mothers and children of all nations may have
liberty and peace. Be strong and brave in the thought that this
war is to maintain the principles back of our flag, the ideals
given to us by the founders of this nation. As Christ died to
make men holy, so these men suffered and shed their blood that
you might have the joy and independence that comes from the
liberty which God has given to us. Be happy with the thought
that no matter what comes to you you will not have lived in
vain, but will have fought for the grandest and greatest things
in life,—liberty and humanity. The best of luck to you,
“Blue Robin.”
Nathalie returned the letter to the envelope, and then rummaged under a
pile of kits that had been filled and fastened, ready for the boys at
camp, until she found one way down beneath the pile. She quickly opened
it. Then something stayed her hand.
“No, it will not be a wicked thing to do, for it can’t do any harm,” she
reasoned doubtfully; “and yet I just _hate_ to do it, but I feel that I
must do something to try to help some boy, who, perhaps, has a lagging
spirit, whose heart may fail him when he thinks of what is before him,
or who, perhaps, fails to realize the greatness of what we are fighting
for, the way I did. This letter may spur him on, give him courage to do
_his best_, perhaps, when he realizes the truth. And _no one will know_
who Blue Robin is, and yet it will do for a name, as mother always says
it is not considered fair to send an anonymous letter to any one, and I
surely would not sign my own.”
Nathalie heaved a deep sigh, and then, as if she would not let herself
have any more misgivings, she seized the letter and dropped it into the
bag. A moment later she was on her way to the Red Cross booth, to learn
who had won the prize for buying the first Liberty bond.
“Oh, Nathalie, Dr. Morrow bought fifteen bonds!” came in an excited
chorus from a group of girls, who were standing in front of the booth,
chatting excitedly over this unlooked-for event.
“Fifteen? Oh, isn’t that just too lovely,” answered the girl. And then
she hastily made her way towards the Morrow group, where the doctor,
with the twins clinging excitedly to his coat-tails,—trying to climb up
his back, he declared,—was signing the bond-certificate that made each
one of them the possessor of five bonds, and his wife the owner of five
more.
A Liberty button was now fastened to the doctor’s coat as a guarantee
that he was a good patriot, and then he was presented with the prize, a
box of Liberty candy from the Girl Scouts’ booth, something he never
indulged in, he laughingly asserted, as he stood with the box in his
hand, lookingly helplessly at it. But the twins did, and they quickly
relieved him of it and were soon blissfully happy as they munched on the
sweets.
A good beginning must have brought the girls good luck, for as soon as
Mrs. Van Vorst heard of this sale she followed the doctor’s example and
invested in ten bonds, five for herself and five for Nita. A few more
followed suit, some buying two or three, while others only took one, but
every little helped, the girl delightedly cried, jubilantly happy at the
many sales they were having. And then a surprise came, as her cousin
Lucille pushed her way through those surrounding the booth, and bought
three bonds,—one for herself, one for Dorothy, and one for Nathalie.
“Oh, Lucille, don’t do that!” cried distressed Nathalie with flushed
cheeks. “It is too much to give me.”
“Indeed, it is not,” insisted Lucille smilingly, who could be very
generous at times, as her cousin knew by the gift of her Pioneer
uniform. “I think you have worked hard enough for these Liberty Girls to
have that much at any rate.” And several must have agreed with
her,—judging by the nods and claps that came from those who were
standing near and heard this remark.
As Nathalie, sometime later, sat gathering up her certificates,—she had
been kept busy all the afternoon making out the little blue and pink
receipts that certified as to her many sales,—Lillie came flying up.
“Oh, Nathalie, hasn’t it been a big success!” she cried with gleaming
eyes. “And the patriotic speeches and recitations have been just fine.
But, O dear!” she added with a sudden note of disappointment in her
voice, “there are a lot of things that have not been sold. Of course
they will all go to the boys at camp, but I was in hopes that everything
would be sold, so as to add to our fund for the bonds.” For those who
had purchased that afternoon had patriotically returned the things they
had bought, as their donation for the boys at camp, thus giving the
girls an opportunity to use the purchase money for Liberty bonds.
“Yes, we have several sweaters and mufflers left,” announced Barbara,
who had been talking to Nathalie, “and poor Captain Molly is quite
disappointed, as she was so sure that we should sell everything we had.”
“And we have a number of flowers and potted plants that have not been
disposed of,” added a Girl Scout in a disappointed voice.
“But we can give those to the hospital,” answered Nathalie quickly, “and
give some sorrowful heart a bit of cheer.”
“Well, we have some boxes of candy, too,” added the Girl Scout
dolefully, “and they won’t do for the sick ones for—”
“And we have some books left over,” interrupted another bystander.
“Oh, I have an idea, a big one, too,” broke in Helen, her eyes all of a
glow. “Why could we not have an auction sale? Of course a good many will
return what they buy,—and I think it will be lots of fun.”
This idea was voted a good one, and a few minutes later Dr. Morrow
announced from the Liberty platform that he was to act as auctioneer. A
few brief words of explanation and the auction was on. First a box of
candy was bid for, which, after much laughter, was finally knocked down
for one dollar, a much larger sum than it would have brought earlier in
the afternoon. A few books were now disposed of, a pile of canned
vegetables, a number of comfort-kits, and so on, until everything, even
to the posters and decorations, had been auctioned off.
As the girls were counting up the proceeds of this expected sale, old
Deacon Perkins came up, and, after a few hems and haws, told the girls
that if they wanted to make a raid on his cherry-trees the next morning,
they could do so, and carry the fruit to the boys. They were to visit
Camp Mills the following afternoon, and present their many donations to
the young soldiers.
“Oh, isn’t that jolly good luck!” “Oh, that’s just glorious!” and many
similar outbursts of joy caused the old deacon to beam with complacent
benignity. The Sport, with a little giggle, whispered to Lillie that she
knew old Perkins had never felt so goody-goody in his life before,—he
was called the meanest man in town.
“Yes, girls,” admonished Nathalie, after the old deacon had been
overwhelmed with thanks, and had gone smilingly on his way, “you will
all have to get up very early to-morrow morning if you want those
cherries, for you know we are to start for Mineola at an early hour, for
it is some drive. Mrs. Morrow kindly offered me her car, so I asked her
to be one of the chaperons. Mrs. Van Vorst is the other, and then Grace,
you know, will take some of the party in her car.
“I am sorry,” her face sobered a little, “but there will only be room in
the three cars for the officers of the Club, and,—yes, I think we ought
to ask Marie, Captain Molly,” she explained, “to ride with us, for you
know, of course, that she can’t walk far. The rest of you girls will
have to go by train, that is, those who want to go.”
“But we all want to go,” called out several voices eagerly, “and we
expected to go by train, for Lillie and Helen have given us a
time-table, so we shall know just what to do, and we’ll meet you at the
camp.”
The raid on the cherry-trees proved “a lark,” Edith declared, as, an
hour or so before the girls started in the cars, she and Grace whizzed
up in the car, filled with several baskets of cherries. A little later
the three cars started for the camp, passing two or three groups of the
girls on the road, en route for the depot. But they were soon left far
behind as the cars whirled along the Merrick road, every one in the best
of spirits, the little newsdealer so buoyantly happy to think that she
was riding in the same car with the young president, that it did one
good to look at her face, keenly aglow with delight.
Nathalie’s eyes were sparkling, too, for the little Jewess had just
cried, “Bend down your head, Mees President, for I likes I shall whisper
mit you in your ear.” And then, as the girl had smilingly complied, she
heard the happy announcement, “My papa, he says like that you iss my
friend, und so my papa he buy me a Liberty bond, for he says you are
loving now mit me.” The owner of the pink ear into which these words had
been loudly whispered, dimpled with pleasure, and then came the thought,
“O dear, I wonder if my little liberty lecture had anything to do with
papa’s buying the bond?”
There was a short stop at the Military Police guardhouse, to learn the
way around the encampment, where several soldier-boys, with the big
letters M. P. on their arms, were viewed with much curiosity by the
girls. A call at the hostess house now followed, where the gifts for the
soldiers—the knitted articles, the books, candy, and fruits—were left,
the girls reserving the baskets of cherries to distribute to the boys
themselves.
The slow ride through the encampment, with its streets flanked by brown
and white tents, reminded Nathalie somewhat of an Indian encampment, and
she gazed about with eager interest, as this was her first visit to an
army post. The girls were specially interested in the prisoners,—two or
three men here and there guarded by a soldier-boy,—who were acting as
White Wings by gathering up flying papers, or débris of any kind lying
about, while other groups were digging ditches or performing similar
duties.
“But see,” cried one of the girls, “the prisoners carry clubs, while the
guard in the rear hasn’t any.”
“No, but he carries an automatic pistol in his trousers’ pocket,”
answered Mrs. Morrow quickly, who had visited the camp many times; “and
if he should fire it, a crowd of soldiers would immediately surround the
prisoners and disarm them. And then, too,” she added, “you must remember
that these prisoners, as a rule, are not real jailbirds, but just young,
thoughtless lads who have probably been punished for what we would
consider a very slight misdemeanor.”
But they were now in what Mrs. Morrow called the “chow” quarters, that
is, where the mess-tents were. It was quite an interesting sight to see
a long line of soldiers, with their plates, cups, and pans in their
hands, standing waiting for the “eats” at one of these tents.
The girls, alert-eyed, watched them with more than the usual curiosity,
for when they were supplied with food they came straggling out of the
line with their “chow” and sat down here and there in groups, while
others sat down on the street-curb and began their meal, using their
laps for a table. This elicited many exclamations of surprise,
especially when their director told them that Uncle Sam’s soldiers were
not allowed to sit at tables, but had to dine standing. Their
denunciation of this system and their expressions of pity were loud, but
when they were told that it was these very hardships to which a boy had
to be inured that made him a well-trained soldier, they became somewhat
reconciled to what they had seen.
Just at this moment a sudden inspiration came to Nathalie, and, leaning
forward, she whispered softly to Mrs. Morrow. That lady smiled and
nodded approval evidently, and immediately brought the car to a
standstill so that Nathalie and Helen could alight. Going swiftly
towards a couple of boys who were sitting on the curb, their eyes bright
and keen, and their faces tanned to a rich brown, Nathalie said,
somewhat timidly, “I beg your pardon, but wouldn’t you young
gentlemen—er—soldiers—” she hastily corrected herself laughingly,
“like to have some cherries to eat with your dinner?”
“Most assuredly we would,” responded one of the lads, a tall
broad-shouldered chap with dark hair, from whose sun-tanned face two
dark-lashed eyes looked down at her, with a half-smile in their blue.
The boys had courteously risen and were standing at attention when the
girl spoke.
Nathalie’s cheeks took on a deeper pink, and then she turned, and the
two girls walked back to the car with the boys in their wake. But
unfortunately, as she attempted to lift one of the heavy baskets over
the edge of the car, something jarred her elbow, and the next moment the
basket had fallen to the ground with the cherries rolling all over the
road.
There was a loud shout from the boys, and then a dozen or more
khaki-clad figures had rushed to the girl’s assistance, and presently
soldier-boys and girls were all scrambling about in the dust of the
road, gathering up the fruit. Indeed, by the time it was replaced in the
basket,—for, of course, the girls had to polish off the dust from the
luscious red fruit—they had all become very merry with one another.
Several minutes later, as the car whirled around the corner of the long
street, they saw the soldier lads gathered about the basket, while
laughing and joking with one another in good-natured banter. Suddenly
one of the boys looked up, and as he spied the now disappearing car he
took off his cap and waved it in a parting salute. Nathalie smiled back,
for she recognized this good-by as coming from the boy with the
dark-lashed, blue eyes.
“Wasn’t that young solider a handsome boy?” queried one of the girls
admiringly, as the car flew along the level road. “And what lovely blue
eyes he had.”
“Yes, and that boy with the light hair was nice-looking, too,” chimed in
Helen. “He had such a frank way of looking you right in the eye. I’ll
warrant you he’s no coward.”
But the cherries and the boys in the “chow” quarters were forgotten as
the girls drove by a group of buglers, who were sitting on the grass
near a large tent, practicing on their bugles. Every eye was curiously
watchful as the three cars went slowly past, for Mrs. Morrow, who was
driving, had slowed up as she saw “the camp alarm-clocks,” as she called
them. Every head was bent forward and eyes grew big with alertness, for
had the girls not set out that morning with the avowed intention of not
missing anything worth seeing, and surely a group of soldier buglers was
an interesting feature of the camp.
They were a merry-eyed crowd, those boys with their happy, care-free
faces under the brown hats with their gay-colored cords. All on undress
parade, Helen declared, as she noted their brown flannel blouses and
belts, as they knelt or stood upon the grass, blowing on their golden
horns as Captain Molly called their brass instruments.
Evidently they were not worrying about going overseas, or losing their
lives in No Man’s Land, but were good examples of live-wire American
lads, with the grit inherited from their ancestors, the Yanks, inspiring
them to make good when called by Uncle Sam to the job of making war.
The girls were alert and watchful, as they spied into open tents, or
behind flying flaps, at the rows of tiny white cots, or at a few stray
articles of clothing seen here and there, yes, even a pair of shoes set
out in the sun to dry were objects of their silent adoration as they
swung along the road.
But now the scene had changed as they whirled along, for, instead of
tents, the streets were lined with little wooden houses, or cabins, the
barracks of the United States Aviation School at Mineola, which adjoined
Camp Mills. A stop at the hostess house was next in order, where a call
was sent in for Dick.
Twenty minutes later Nathalie was blithesomely happy, as she and her
brother, over in a corner of the little wooden building, chatted about
home news,—how mother was getting along, yes, and about the wonderful
events that had occurred in the last few days. Then Nathalie turned
inquisitor, and Dick was subjected to a series of questions in regard to
his life as a war-eagle. In fact Nathalie’s questions were so many and
so swiftly put that her brother declared that one would have thought
that he was being interviewed by some expert reporter.
Yes, reveille was at five in the morning, followed in half an hour by
breakfast. His sister immediately asked, somewhat anxiously, if he got
enough to eat.
“You bet your life I do,” was Dick’s laughing rejoinder. “The ‘eats’ are
O. K.—nothing to be added. At six,” he continued, “I report at
headquarters for flying, and then, with an instructor, learn a few
flying stunts. I return to barracks at ten, and from eleven until
two-thirty have a ‘do-as-you-please time,’ which includes luncheon, and,
generally, a nap, for, by Jove!” exclaimed the young aviator, “this
flying business makes a fellow feel drowsy.
“Then we drill for a while, listen to a lecture,” he went on, “and then
again for a space I am a bird of the air. We dine about half-after
eight, and at ten comes taps, or ‘lights out.’ Anything more you would
like to know, young lady?” he inquired teasingly. But Nathalie was
satisfied, for surely her brother’s ruddy cheeks, tanned skin, and
glowing eyes attested to what he called the “joy-time of his life,” and
a few moments later the little party started for the aviation field.
Here Dick conducted them around the field and showed them many kinds of
aircraft, as aëroplanes, dirigibles, kite-balloons, serviceable in war;
in fact, they were so well instructed as to the uses and mechanism of so
many different machines that Mrs. Morrow declared that they would be
well-versed in aëronautics. But the little personal stories that Dick
told about the heroism of well-known war-eagles over in France made a
stronger appeal to the girls, especially when he explained the several
varieties of aviators and their special work.
To the girls’ disappointment there was no flying going on while they
were on the field, but they were partly appeased when Dick showed them a
group of students, aviation observers, he called them, who were learning
to sketch from a miniature battlefield, and in this way learn how it
would look from the air. As they were about to leave the field they saw
some students bringing out a machine, to get it ready for flying, as
testing the motor and so on.
At this particular moment one of the girls uttered a sudden cry, and as
all eyes glanced upward with newly awakened eagerness, they were
rewarded by seeing an aëroplane returning from a training flight. As
Nathalie gazed eagerly at the machine that flew like some strange
monster above their heads, the perils of flying in space came to her
with a sudden, keen realization, and, with a sickening pang as to what
might happen to Dick some day, her eyes darkened with apprehensive
terror and she turned hastily away. But Dick, catching sight of the
girl’s pale face and fear-haunted eyes, as if to divert her mind from
dismal forebodings, called attention to the camp mascot, a little yellow
police-dog, who was standing by his master, equipped, like him, with
goggles. The girls were soon laughing heartily as Dick told of the dog’s
alertness in doing “stunts,” and the eagerness he showed when waiting to
take a flight in one of the machines.