reimbursing us for our travelling expenses and our mess. The government
will repay those who take the oath of allegiance--and everyone is hunting
for the nigger in the woodpile. There is so general a sentiment that the
War Department tricked the militia into taking the oath of six years'
service before starting for Texas, that none of us cares to be caught
promising too much. But I feel that the form of oath, which was read
aloud tonight, is pretty straightforward. We enlist only for the period
of the camp, and for instruction only. I shall take the oath. If before
the period is over the government takes us away for service anywhere, I
suppose there will be an emergency to justify it.
We were also given additional facts regarding the hike. Having so small a
regiment, yet having the baggage train of the large August camp, we are
to go on the longest hike yet, eleven days on the road and in the field,
ten nights in the pup-tents. We are sorting our belongings to take or to
leave, and David is wondering how he can carry all his exquisite
appointments.
But he has just come out strong. Company conference being over, there was
held the boxing match which one of the sergeants has been promoting, and
the whole company (officers discreetly absent) formed the ring and
applauded the heroism. Much of it would not interest you, yet you could
have stood a glimpse of it--the circle of men, good-naturedly applauding,
the heavy shadows under the overhead light, the gray-green uniformity of
men and sand, the two dancing figures, and the pat-pat of the gloves.
There were some neat bouts, and then the promoter made an announcement,
which to my surprise I saw Randall, stripped to the waist, furtively
trying to stop.
He had on his left, said the sergeant, one remaining contestant, whose
opponent had just sent word that he had hurt his wrist. Would any
gentleman be willing to provide Mr. Randall with an antagonist?
No one came forward. Randall looked very formidable, with his handsome
features and also a most superb set of muscles. I was saying to myself
that perhaps I'd better give him a go, when I caught sight of Lucy's
face, peering between the men in front of him, and so plainly full of
desire that I waited. Then Corder, on the other side of him, jogged David
in the ribs, and said in a low voice, "He called you Lucy!" In an instant
David, without a look behind or a moment's hesitation, was pushing
through the ring. "Let me try." And he stepped out into the light.
Someone caught me by the arm, and there was Knudsen, very angry. "Why
didn't you stop him?" he demanded. "He never can stand up to that
fellow." But I, feeling quite as satisfied as ever I felt in my life,
smiled him down, "Somehow I think he can," said I, and pushed after
David, to act as his second.
Oh, I coached him all I could, and in the rests I helped the gasping boy
in every way I knew how. The rounds were short, but too long for him in
his still soft condition. And he knew so little of the game! Had Randall,
who really had boxed before, used his head, poor David would have stood
no chance whatever. Yet the boy's insight was correct. No sooner did
Randall see before him the lad's unmistakably eager face, and know from
David's first rush that here was a fight, than he was flustered. So as
boxing the bout was nothing: neither could hit clean, parries were
clumsy, much was accident. David's very ardor betrayed him, and he came
back to me at the end of each round quite winded. But for the rest,
nothing could be finer. Randall was twenty pounds the heavier, and slight
David staggered when the blows came home, yet always he came back. His
panting persistence, his determination to strike, were too much for the
other. He held back, and David came on; he drew aside, and David followed
him; he struck, and David without parrying came right through, and landed
blow after blow somewhere.
The men were yelling presently, here was so evidently grit against mere
muscle, spirit against flesh. Randall grew angry and hit hard, but he was
wild; he grew afraid and tried to clinch, but his rush was feeble. David
jabbed him repeatedly in the ribs, drew off, and for the first time in
the three rounds (the referee was just calling time) hit Randall
neatly--on the nose.
And Randall, in pain but not hurt (for the boy couldn't hit hard)
nevertheless believed himself finished. I think he wanted to stagger and
fall at full length, but he only succeeded in sitting down. Shout upon
shout upon shout! Then we of the squad took David, groggy with his own
efforts, rubbed him and fanned him and swabbed him, and finally walked
him off between us.
Knudsen said in my ear, "You were right. That was worth a thousand
dollars."
A fellow from another squad tried to be complimentary. "Well done, Lucy!"
Pickle, without any ceremony, pushed in between. "Cut that out! His name
is Farnham."
The chap was puzzled. "But you don't call him that."
"We know him better now," said Pickle. "We call him David."
And David, who had been leaning heavily on me, at the words stood
upright. He had been smiling with satisfaction; now he looked happy. He
put his arm over Pickle's shoulder as the other fellow walked away.
"Thanks, Pick, old man," he said.
Knudsen and Corder and I fell behind and shook hands. The name Lucy was
dead and buried.
David wouldn't go to bed; he sat contentedly on his cot, sopping liniment
on a bruised lip, while fellows kept coming in from other squads, to
congratulate. After a while I went out, and seeing a little knot of our
men at the captain's tent, joined them.
The officers like to have the men come to them with questions, and after
repeated invitations issued at general conferences, the men have come to
believe it. So there is growing up a little habit of stopping at the
captain's tent for a question which often extends into an interchange of
ideas from which each side benefits. But they weren't on any technical
subject tonight; the men had got the captain talking on the topic of an
officer's life, and they had just reached the items of his expenses. I
had never particularly thought of this side of the matter before; I knew
that an officer is technically a gentleman and must dress as such, but
that his pay is so small, his perquisites so few, and his necessary
uniforms so many, I had not realized. To tell the truth, the little group
of us who listened were really rather shocked that these men who work so
hard for the nation are under such burdens. The captain perceived it, and
for his own interest suddenly turned the tables on us.
"I have been rather frank, gentlemen," he said. "Now I know your expenses
are such as you choose to make them; but would you mind telling me how
your incomes compare with mine?"
The question was perfectly fair, for the men had been pumping him; and
they responded at once. "I count on eight thousand yearly from my
factory," said one. The next said that his salary was six. The third,
with a little embarrassed laugh, admitted that he earned ten thousand.
And the next said that last year he cleaned up forty thousand dollars. As
you can imagine, these were all men older than the average rookie. They
wear their uniforms badly, some of them, being no longer lithe and
lissome; and yet the forty thousand dollar man was lean and hard as an
Indian. I had so far known him only as a sportsman who loved to talk
about big game. The captain, as he listened, nodded gravely at each
statement, and when the last had spoken turned his eye on me. I could
only tell him the truth--twelve thousand as my salary, and perhaps an
equal amount on the side.
He drew a long breath. "Well, gentlemen, you have my congratulations. On
the other hand, I'm not sorry to have told you these facts about army
life. It's well that you civilians should understand conditions. As for
myself, I went into the service with my eyes open, and I'm not yet ready
to change it."
His eye rather lingered on me. I have the impression that he's acutely
conscious of my presence whenever I'm about. Is that Vera's doing? Do you
suppose she's got him too?
Love from
DICK.
LETTER FROM VERA WADSWORTH TO HER SISTER
FRANCES
Plattsburg Post, Thursday, Sept. 21.
DEAR FRANCES:--
I wish I hadn't come. Two of them are in earnest! Lieutenant Pendleton is
here every day, very gay but very desperate. I use the Colonel all I can
against him, and the innocent old man will talk shop with him by the
hour. But sometimes the lieutenant manages to get me alone, and only my
best cold-storage manner has saved me so far.
But if the lieutenant is the kind that takes you by storm, Captain Kirby
is one that will lay siege. He doesn't come so often as the other, he
doesn't stay so long, he doesn't say so much; but he is the kind that
sticks. I may be able to stave off the lieutenant, but I shall have to
have it out with the captain.
I wish you were here. You would be such a help! Can't you manage it? Oh,
Frances dear, I don't like army life. Why couldn't I be satisfied with
Dick? Come and help me!
VERA.
FROM PRIVATE RICHARD GODWIN TO HIS MOTHER
Plattsburg, Friday, Sept. 22, 1916.
DEAR MOTHER:--
It rained in the night, and between showers I went out and fixed the cap
of the tent, loosening also the cords. If we don't attend to these latter
as soon as rain begins they are likely to shrink and tear the canvas, or
perhaps pull up the tent pegs. And if everything holds till morning, then
the job of loosening the ropes, even with three men to each, is
considerable. But I was in time. In the morning it was cloudy, but we had
dry weather for our baths and breakfast, and for making up our packs.
Then the rain began to patter, and we to groan. The bugle blew, and we
stood expectant at the doors of our tents, waiting for the whistle. We
awaited the order, "full equipment, ponchos over all," but the call came,
"non-commissioned officers, with their drill regulations, at the head of
the street." The corporals and sergeants went, the privates in the tents
cheered madly, and now we are awaiting what may happen next.
So in the interval, just a few words about our proficiency, and our
partial failure so far. We haven't done very well, and that's a fact. We
march badly, losing distance, interval, and alignment; we dress slowly,
we fall in with much delay, and our various manoeuvres are done with much
hesitation and uncertainty. For all this the captain has, as the boys
say, plentifully "bawled us out," constantly working us more than any
other officer has done in the battalion. We can't deny that we are ragged
and slovenly, but why is it?
To begin with we are trying to do, as the captain acknowledges, more than
could be hoped of ordinary recruits, we being (ahem!) of the intelligent
class. But intellectually we are uneven, some of us plainly not being
born to be soldiers, so that with the best of will they lag. Again, the
Plattsburg movement has reached the stage in which the men have not all
come with the same impulse to serve the country, a considerable
proportion being, as it were, substitutes, being sent by the public
spirit of employers who cannot come themselves. The motive is excellent,
and they choose, I make no doubt, the best men available among their
clerks. But not all of these are suitable material, some being here for a
lark, and some being too young to be serious. Such fellows impede the
progress of the others. When the movement takes still wider scope, or
when we reach the stage of compulsory general training, evidently the
leaven that pretty successfully leavens this lump will then, being much
diluted, have harder work to do, and to make the mob into a regiment will
take double the time. Finally, I have already spoken of another of our
weaknesses, the inexperience of our non-coms. Most of our corporals are
here for the first time; many of the sergeants, though familiar with the
corporal's job, are new at the higher work. Indeed some of them have
never worn stripes before. They are therefore so necessarily intent on
guarding against their own mistakes (which still are plentiful) that they
can't give enough attention to the blunders of the men. Nor, as I have
said, do I think that the professional non-com will help us here, unless
specially chosen for understanding the Plattsburger. The martinet
drill-sergeant whose severities the docile German may bear, would never
be tolerated among us. What we need is to make it a matter of pride for
the veterans of one camp to come back and serve as corporals in the next
and as sergeants in the next. With regular non-coms in the way there is
no chance for the civilian to make himself a valuable reserve man; but if
he can be tempted by promotion to come again and yet again, he is not
only now serving the training cause better than anyone else can, but he
is building up a body of responsible men whom the country can call upon
at need.
Theories, my dear mother, theories. I will test them on the hike.
--It is the end of a day which I shall look back upon with respect.
Curious that when at breakfast someone asked me if I found the work
strenuous, I answered that so far I had not found it strenuous at all.
Since when we have had our heaviest day's work.
The weather was showery and chilly, and the non-coms returned from their
conference with orders for us to wear sweaters and ponchos. Being put
into close battalion formation, we were informed by the major that an
enemy had landed at Keesville, some twenty-odd miles south, and that we
were to march out and get in touch with him. So our three companies
followed the first battalion along the road to AuSable, having out the
proper patrols--point and communicating files and rear guard, with combat
patrols--and we found ourselves on a real hike.
It was tramp, tramp, tramp on the hard macadam all the way. Now remember
that though we have been on hard roads some part of every day, we have
mostly been on gravel or the turf of the fields and the parade ground. So
we weren't really toughened to the work. The weather bothered us also.
The ponchos came off after a while, then we got heated in the sun, and
were feeling the weight of our sweaters when the clouds closed in and a
shower came. Thus it changed most of the time. Every forty-five to fifty
minutes we stopped to rest, spread our ponchos, and lay down. To be
exact, after the first forty-five minutes we rested fifteen, and after
each succeeding fifty we rested ten. We marched nearly four miles, then
turned back. Our company was now second in the column, but none of the
patrol duty fell to me, for which I was rather glad, as a heel began to
bother me.
A man from Squad Seven fell out from the column. "This finishes the camp
for me," he said ruefully as he left us. He has rigid arches, and it
seems that the doctors have warned him that he could not stand the
marching. He sat and waited for some kind motorist, and after an hour
passed us, comfortable in a limousine. There were others among us who got
pretty weary; but on the other hand there were plenty, I am glad to say,
who were not tired, and whistled and sang most of the way, to the
advantage of those who felt weary. Some of these blades spying a couple
of bold damsels, cried "Eyes Right!" at which they giggled. But the
captain made us march at attention, and explained, when we got back to
camp, that we were expected to mind our manners in the presence of the
other sex (or as he put it, persons in female attire) else we might be
sure of marching at attention for the whole of the way.
We were back at the usual time, after seven miles and a half, and I, wet
from inside and from out, was glad to wash and change and find leisure to
inspect my troublesome heel, on which I found two blisters which Clay,
being as I told you a medico, skilfully doctored.
But there was no rest for the weary. I foolishly rejoiced when I escaped
the work of helping to make up the shooting records, also (perhaps not so
foolishly) when the typhoid sufferers were taken to be inoculated for the
third time. But while the captain supervised the company clerks, the
lieutenant, in anticipation of a regimental parade, took us out on the
field. See how carefully it was done. As we were but the fraction of a
company he lined us up and made up squads afresh, a corporal to each,
then instructed us in our parade work, and drilled us for two hours.
Having my two blisters, I did not enjoy it, and the men were groaning all
around me. He was as hard to please as the captain; once, looking back
along the line as we marched company front, he said, "The ancestors of
this bunch certainly must have been a lot of snakes!" But I'll venture to
say that none of us, after this, will forget how to oblique in making the
turn.
After ten minutes' rest, we were taken to calisthenics, after which I
anticipated a good loaf. But no, we were assembled, the whole regiment,
for a conference concerning our return home by government aid, the major
and a railroad agent instructing us in the terms. I was glad to find that
I can simply go home on my return ticket, and let the treasury department
pay me when it's good and ready; and after standing in line for half an
hour I was able to state my intention to do this.
There was then just time to change for the parade, which was partly
interesting, partly tedious. Thanks to the lieutenant's drill, we made no
mistakes, though at one time we had to make our way at company front
among the boxes and barrels strewed in the neighborhood of the
quartermaster's shack. Lieutenant Pendleton briefly said, when we were
back in the street, "You did well." And the captain, who left the scoring
long enough to watch the parade, joked us on being mountain goats.
The blisters are no worse for the afternoon's work. It is raining
steadily. Love from
DICK.
EXTRACT FROM THE LETTER OF MISS MAMIE
MARSHALL TO HER FRIEND, MISS ROSETTA
JONES
... And I waved a handkerchiff, so some of the men cried Eyes Rite They
were awfully hansome especially one with a curling black mustarsh but
that horrid captain Kirby stopped them from looking at us and the whole
colum went by without paying us any more attention it was mean....
FROM PRIVATE GODWIN
Plattsburg, Saturday the 23d.
DEAR MOTHER:--
We are having really rainy weather. Till now it has rained but a few
hours at most, with intervals for drying. But it rained steadily all last
evening, drummed on the tight tent all night, and was still heavily at
work when the bugler failed to blow his horn this morning. Watches not
being at all uniform, men got themselves out of bed at their leisure. The
first sergeant did not think to wake us, and then was disgusted when many
of the men did not turn out at the first call. Those who were there made
a crooked line around a great puddle which stood in the depression
between our ridge and the head of the street.
But now, after breakfast, everyone is cussing. "What are we to wear?"
asked Knudsen of the first sergeant, who answered snappily, "The usual
things for a hike." Knudsen came back grumbling: "How were we to know
that we are going on a hike?" The word was passed along: "Packs," "No
packs." "Sweaters," "No sweaters." Then it was said that we were to wear
handkerchiefs in our hats, sure sign of a sham battle pending. So at last
at the whistle we turned out with sweaters, packs, ponchos ready (for
though it had stopped raining we did not feel safe) and some of us with
handkerchiefs twined in our hat-bands. Once in line we were sent
back--"No packs, no rifles." Again we came out and lined up again, only
to be sent back once more. "No sweaters." By this time it was rumored
that we were at last to take the oath, and this was confirmed by the
sight of the captain carrying a bunch of slips, containing the oath,
which in the last few days we have filled out, and yesterday had signed.
The men both grumbled and joked. "We can't take the oath with sweaters
on? Why not?" "Got on woollen underwear? Get cotton. You can't take the
oath in wool." So at last we were in line again, and then the captain
began to look through the slips. "Here's a man written his name twice
differently. Make out a new slip.--Here's a lot of men have signed with
lead pencil. It's got to be in ink or indelible pencil." Here he was met
by a lawyer, who had signed in pencil, and said, "A pencil signature is
valid." "Not here," said the captain, sticking to the regulations, and
the slips had to be changed.
When we were ready we were marched to the flag, where the company was
drawn up on three sides of a square. The major then said--
--I must break this off to describe what is going on, which is too
interesting to ignore. For the second time this afternoon we are shut up
in the dark tent, everyone having fled before a pelting shower. We were
first aligned for calisthenics, but were dismissed on account of Shower
No. 1, a driving rain that lasted half an hour. Now we were just ready
for parade--think what it would have been on that slimy, soggy
ground!--when the approach of Shower No. 2 sent us all to cover. It is
pelting furiously; Pickle and Knudsen, with the intrenching tools which
luckily were served out to us this afternoon, are digging frantically to
keep the water away from their suit-cases. Through the tied flaps of the
doorway Clay has been yelling at Squad Nine, our opposite neighbors, and
there is the greatest joy and confusion. Knudsen having finished his job,
is jeering at Pickle, who had promised to be first. And now he has taken
Pickle in hand, and is showing him his mistakes. It is thundering and
lightening. "I don't see," says David with slow wonderment, "how it can
rain much harder." Now Knudsen, at the door, imitates the first
sergeant's whistle and alarms our neighbors, who peer anxiously out.
"Corporals, get your men out!" cries he, laughing heartily as the others
consult. "They look like a bunch of dogs," says he, "with their heads
sticking out of their kennels." Now it slackens, I hear laughter in the
street, and in comes a neighbor. "Boys, it's a scream! There's four
inches of water in the next two tents. Their baggage is all afloat."
(Later.) The rain slackening just then, out we all swarmed, the whole
street becoming alive with men, who with shouts crowded toward the great
puddle which completely filled the breadth of the street, and had flooded
tents Four and Six. Looking into these, I saw the glimmer of
lantern-light reflected on water, the beds moved about and piled with
baggage. The sandy soil can drain an ordinary shower, but this was too
heavy, and there was but one thing to try. Yelling, some fifteen men got
out their intrenching tools and began to dig a ditch to lead the water
off to the field below. At first I thought they could not do it, for the
ridge was at least two feet above the level of the puddle. But leaving
enough earth to form a dam, the men in a line so vigorously worked the
strong little shovels that in scarcely more than five minutes they were
ready to break down the dam. They broke it, the water came pouring
through, and with cheers the men kept the channel clear. With great
brooms the men of tents Four and Six swept out their domiciles, other men
dug the channel deeper, still others on the further slope kept the flood
from the other tents, and as we formed for supper (the two parts of the
company on the two sides of the dividing puddle) the lake was more than
half drained away. By the time we came back from mess the puddle was
clean gone, and the captain was devising means to get the men of tents
Four and Six in dry quarters for the night.
And now to take up my narrative, earlier broken off.--The major, as we
were assembled for the oath, said a few words in explanation of it, then
read it aloud, while we stood with hats off and right hands raised,
before the flag. At the end each man said "I do!" and then one by one we
acknowledged our signatures on our slips. So I am now enlisted in the
army of the United States, bound to obey the President and the Secretary
of War, and entirely at the mercy of our superior officers.