have had my own personal share. While we were standing, waiting for the
major to come and give us the oath, the captain's eye fell on me.
Evidently he pondered for a moment, then he beckoned me out of the ranks.
Said he, "I thought you weren't to take the oath." I answered, "I have
always meant to take it, sir." "Oh," said he, "then I was misinformed.
Well, that is what prevented me from making you sub-squad-leader, and
I'll do it today. Just say nothing about it beforehand." So I saluted and
stepped back. When we were lined up in the company street again (having
first put our sweaters on by our own decision, and then having taken them
off by order of the major, who presently took us to regimental drill on
the parade ground) the lieutenant announced, "Mr. Godwin will be
sub-squad-leader in Squad Eight." So I dropped back into the rear rank,
my rear-rank man took my place, Reardon gave place to me, and the other
men moved to numbers two and one. In that order we drilled, and good
Reardon showed me his duties. To make sure that the change is permanent,
Bannister asked the captain, and here I am installed in a very minor
office.
I am out of the front rank now, but the parades, which it is interesting
to watch, are all over, and I shall get acquainted with still another set
of our neighbors. On the hike I shall still march on the outside of the
column, which gives some freedom of action, and as Knudsen contends,
better air. Reardon is very nice about the change; the boys all recognize
it as coming from my bluff at giving orders. Yet Reardon showed, as I
drill beside him today, that he knows more of the business than I do.
Bannister shook his fist at me. "Consarn ye," (he imitates the farmer to
perfection) "yer shan't git my job!"
"Coming strong!" I answered.
Knudsen, with the energy and tact which characterize him, has reorganized
the squad on the basis of this change of mine, moving the men about so
that he has David as his rear rank man, which means that they sleep in
the same tent on the hike, and that Knudsen still has the boy in charge.
Of course Bannister agreed to it all. He and I shall tent together.
Corder feels that he has had a narrow escape. The captain sent for him
and offered him the position of equipment sergeant, or some such title,
which means some minor responsibility and a seat on one of the baggage
trucks. Corder, in a panic, begged permission to stay with the squad and
carry his gun; and the captain, saying how disgusted the bugler was with
his new job, and that two disappointed men in the company were more than
he could stand, let him off. Corder, after telling us the tale, got out
his mirror and studied himself. "It's all this confounded beard of mine,"
he complained. "I'm only forty-five, and my hair is still black, but the
thing has turned gray and makes me seem old. It's sickening to have the
fellows so thoughtful of me. Godwin, if ever you get respectful, I'll
slay you."
The shooting records are posted, and to our great satisfaction our
company stands best. That doesn't mean that we have the highest
individual score, or even the greatest number of expert riflemen. But it
does mean that we have both the most men in all three qualified grades
and the highest average score per man. Practically that means that of all
the six companies we should be deadliest against an infantry attack, also
that as a consequence we should ourselves be safest. As Pickle says, "The
captain has done one good job."
The forehanded among us (and yet after all we are at it pretty late) are
making maps for the hike in imitation of those which the officers have
posted for us to study. At the Exchange can be bought contour maps of all
this region, covering the whole area of the hike. These we are cutting
out in squares and pasting on linen, cheese-cloth, or even mosquito
netting. Then we mark on them the camps, the route, and all along the way
the important crossroads within a mile of our march, which we number
according to the officers' sample. If after this we can get some shellac,
we coat the map against the weather. Had I only known enough, I should
have brought with me proper cloth, glue and shellac for this purpose; for
of course the rush for these materials has practically used up all
neighboring supplies.
Between showers today we have begun our preparations for the hike,
directions concerning which were read us. We have turned in our
condiment-cans and bacon-tins--so much less weight to carry. David is in
secret dismay over the small equipment which is allowed us, and has spent
many long minutes over the beautiful little sole leather trunk which he
keeps under his cot, and which contains so many knickknacks. He has been
making little piles here, and little piles there, and then, with knitted
brow, changing them all about. He has not asked for advice, and none of
us has offered it. Pickle, whose personal outfit is of the most meagre,
has been watching him in delight.
However, David is permanently lightened of one part of his equipment.
Word went round that we were to have rifle-inspection, at which there
rose in the tent a great clamor for patches, of which we had none, nor
the store tent either. David was absent, and Knudsen, saying "I'll get
patches," asked Clay for his surgical scissors, and going to David's cot,
took from the great collection of conveniences which the boy still hoped
to take with him, a set of his beautiful silk pajamas. The jacket Knudsen
tore into strips (we all the while watching in pregnant silence) then cut
them into squares, and when David returned we were all at work on our
guns.
"They tell me," he said, "that we're to have rifle inspection. Have you
fellows any patches?"
"Plenty," said Knudsen, and handed him some made out of the gaudiest part
of the pattern.
David, as he inspected these, first grew very red, then hastily demanded,
"Who cut these up?"
"I did," said Knudsen very serenely. "No pajamas on the hike, David."
And the boy, who is still very proud of coming into his own name,
laughed, asked for Clay's scissors, and cut up the rest of his suit. Then
he stuffed into his trunk the other pair which he had intended to take
with him on the hike.
One last story, to show a different side of our Plattsburg activities.
You know we have a cavalry camp here, and a medical department, where
volunteers come exactly as to our infantry regiment. Well, Corder came
back from the medicos lately, where he went to visit a friend, with a
great tale of the mending of a cavalryman's broken jaw by one of the
volunteer surgeons, a Boston dentist. Corder, being professor-like in
appearance, was not detected as an impostor, and stood close at hand in
the ring of doctors who watched the clinic.
"It was done under field conditions," said he, "the operator using only
an alcohol lamp, a small pair of nippers, and about eight inches of
ordinary electric light wire, which happened to be handy. The insulation
was scraped from the cable, and its various fine wires were burned clean
in the flame of the lamp. The rookie was then put on a table in the
company street, and the doctor took a turn with one of the fine wires
around a tooth behind the break, twisting the ends together. The same was
done with a tooth in front of the break; and then in the upper jaw wires
were twisted around teeth above the lower two. An assistant then held the
broken jaw in place, and the doctor twisted tight together the wires from
the lower back tooth and the upper front tooth, and then those from the
upper back tooth and the lower front tooth. He cut off the ends, made all
smooth, and the work was done, all in a very few minutes. The jaw could
not move, and was bound to heal perfectly. The doctors all said they
never had seen anything so simple or so clever."
We thought the same; Clay, as a budding doctor, was envious of Corder for
having seen it. "Too bad for the chap to lose the hike," said Bannister.
"He won't lose it!" replied Corder. "The fellow can drink, of course. He
can get any liquid, or even a cereal or a stew, around behind his back
teeth, so he's simply going right along with us."
So much for smartness, and for grit!
The showers lasting long enough to spoil conferences, and then the sky
clearing, I went this evening to say good-by to Vera, which I had half
promised to do. David, by the way, to whom a social duty used to be
sacred, called yesterday afternoon, as Knudsen suggested, and was
manfully relieved to find her out. But I found her in, and alone. She
told me that her sister Frances was coming, made rather a point of it,
expecting me to manage to see her, though on the hike how can I? There
was a delightful old colonel there, who rather took to me, and when on
the coming of Lieutenant Pendleton I naturally tried to make myself
scarce, the colonel took me into his study to show me the service pistol
that they used in his day. And when finally I took my leave of him, on my
way out (missing the front door and blundering into the parlor) I ran
into the most distressing sort of scene.
Pendleton and Kirby were both there, and the captain having his hat in
his hand, I imagine he'd only just come. The lieutenant was fiery red; I
think I know the look of a man when he's been turned down, and I saw it
in his face. Vera was in that cold and lofty mood of hers when nothing
counts but the idea she has in mind; no one seeing her so would think she
ever again could be gentle or tender--poor Vera, with all her struggles
to perfect herself, and yet with so much manner, yes and so much
headstrong will, hiding it all. It seemed as if she had called the
captain to witness, perhaps to agree in, something she had just
announced; you know it, mother, that old idea of hers that caused me such
years of effort. I heard the words just as I parted the curtains, and
they stopped me dead.
"A man should be able to offer a woman the best that there is."
Pendleton with his head hanging low, Kirby gone white under his tan and
looking as if he had been shot through the heart--but that was not all.
Vera herself looked sick and--there is no other word than desperate.
Explain it if you can. All I could do was to find my way out as quickly
and silently as I could.
I went across the parade-ground and walked up and down by the lake, to
still my many memories. Poor Vera! She is still groping, having a woman's
instincts but yet suppressing them. If only the right man could show her
her true self, she is so honest she would recognize it. But where is he?
or how could he get to know the heart which she herself does not
understand?
On the way back to camp I went through the woods, and there I passed the
poor lieutenant, walking with dragging step, still with his head upon his
breast. But when I came to the company street, there in front of his tent
stood the captain, a different picture. He was as straight as a--well, as
a soldier, which he was, every inch of him, with his head up and his jaw
set. I saluted, and he returned the salute, always with that searching
look at me which now I'm sure of the meaning of. Yes, Vera's got him too.
It's time, for every reason, that we were away from here.
DICK.
FROM VERA WADSWORTH TO HER SISTER FRANCES
Plattsburg Post, Sept. 23, 1916.
DEAR FRANCES:--
I am so glad you are coming, but wish you were coming by train instead of
with the Chapmans in their car. For I can't get you here a minute too
soon, nor have you too much to myself. The Chapmans say they want to see
a hike camp, and how can I excuse myself from going too?
Everything has gone wrong, quite wrong. I thought I could keep the
lieutenant off, but I did not realize what a soldier is. Last night he
had to have his answer, and I was telling him as gently as I could, when
the stupid servant opened the front door to the captain and let him make
his own way into the parlor, where he stood before I had heard a sound.
If he didn't see what was going on, he was blind.
And then I lost my head over the sudden notion that here was my chance to
get rid of him too. For the man frightens me, Frances; I never met one
who was so steady and so determined and so strong. Maybe I blundered; I
don't know. But I can't have him getting to know me any better; I want
never to see him again. So I said (I know I stiffened horribly as I said
it, the thing was so uncalled for and so un-nice) "The lieutenant and I
were just discussing army life, captain, and how little it has for a
woman. For a man ought to be able to offer the best that there is." It
hurt him; it hurt his opinion of me. He went away almost without a word.
I never was so ashamed; never before have I felt like a butcher. But if I
meant it why shouldn't I say it? Let him hate me, if only he lets me
alone.
They march out Monday, and as I hear the drums go by on the main road I
shall be glad. But I do so want to see you. Hurry the Chapmans all you
can.
Longingly,
VERA.
FROM DAVID RIDGWAY FARNHAM, 3D, TO HIS
FATHER
Plattsburg, Sunday the 24th.
DEAR FATHER:--
I am writing just a few lines to say that we are off tomorrow on the
hike, in light marching order, and with very little bagage. I shall not
even take my pajjamas. But I'd rather you wouldn't tell mother this; it
would upset her. Will you tell her that I'm really too busy to write, but
that I'm in very fine condition, and she's not to worry about me? And she
said in her last letter something about taking a trip up here so as to be
near us on the hike if anything should happen to me. This is really what
I'm writing you about. Please stop her, father. I'd really rather she
wouldn't even be here when we break camp to take me home in the car. For
I'd like to go home with the Boston bunch in the train.
I think in my earlier letters I wasn't fair to some of the fellows in our
squad. Perhaps I didn't know how to get at them at first. Even now I
don't suppose mother would see anything in them; yet I'm sure that if I
could introduce you to them you'd understand why I like them.
Just keep mother from worrying about me on the hike. I shall be all
right. Affectionatly,
DAVID.
FROM PRIVATE RICHARD GODWIN TO HIS MOTHER
Plattsburg, Sunday the 24th.
DEAR MOTHER:--
This morning it has turned chilly, without sun, and with clouds
threatening more rain. As before, I did some washing before breakfast,
and now have on the line considerable of my laundry, which I am anxiously
feeling of from time to time. If it does not dry, then I shall have to
buy some new things for tomorrow.
There being no duties today, men are neglecting church and getting ready
for the hike. We must turn in our mattress covers, pillow slips, barrack
bags, and for those who do not wish to buy, the overcoats. The captain
has sent out word that overcoats may be bought, and I have secured mine
by the payment of $9.96; for those who have not the change, the price is
$10. Down the street from the store-tent extends a line of men with their
surplus in their arms, while I take advantage of their necessarily slow
progress to write this to you. One of my pillow-slips I shall retain by
the sacrifice of seven cents; it shall serve as a bag to keep my extra
things together on the march.
Men are making sure of their homeward accommodations. When I went to the
D. & H. tent it was so full of waiting men that I came away, and must go
again. So much for neglecting a duty till the last.
Word has just gone down the street that we must pack this morning for the
hike, and give our bags in at the Y. M. C. A. for storage. So we shall
be on a hike basis from now on, and tonight I shall sleep in my clothes,
with my blankets and poncho made up into a sleeping bag. It is wonderful
what the Y. M. C. A. does for us, giving to all who come every kind of
information, cashing our checks, supplying pen and ink and paper to the
epistolary, and giving minor helps constantly. It is to them a very
burdensome expense, which they have no fund to meet. I shall leave
something behind to show my appreciation.
For the coming ten days I have gone into woollens for the first time in
years, on account of the expected contact with mother earth. I shall
carry three pair of stockings, a change of underwear, an extra shirt and
extra trousers and shoes, and a light sweater to supplement my service
one, with several small conveniences. We shall live rough and rather
dirty, and the hike will finish much of the outfit.
--It is evening, and I am all ready. The day has been given to sorting
and packing, storing my suit-case, getting my berth home, and again
sorting, and again packing. For when we tried to stuff into the squad-bag
the eight bundles that we made of our extra belongings, it happened as we
might have expected, and we had to discard half of our dunnage. Here is
my final equipment.
In my belt, thirty blank cartridges, and in the extra pockets my
flashlight, some surgeon's plaster, and some of David's silk patches.
In my pocket the foot-powder which it is my duty to carry as
sub-squad-leader. (The other men carry the intrenching tools and the
wire-cutter. The corporal carries nothing but the weight of his
responsibilities.)
In my pack the usual shelter-half, poncho, blanket, tent-pins, rope,
meat-can, knife and fork and spoon, with bayonet. In addition I stuff in
an o. d. shirt (it dried today!) a towel, soap, tooth-brush, shaving
things etc., a pair of socks, and my map.
In the pillow-case in the squad-bag, shoes, trousers, change of underwear
and socks, towel, writing materials, sewing things.
In the squad-roll the blankets and sweaters.
Cool weather is certain, and having heard that the captain may send back
for our coats, we who have bought ours have deposited them at the
store-tent for this purpose.
My map I have at last finished with much clumsy care; dozens of us have
spent hours today at the Y. M. C. A., absorbed in this work, which
with the accurate inking of the route and crossroads, has been rather
minute. The numbering of many crossroads is very significant of the
skirmishes that await us.
The mail follows us; the address is unchanged.
Tonight the Y. M. C. A. is full of men sending last letters home.
Several have dropped out of the company, on account of feet or knees or
digestion, or else from natural business reasons. The company is sad to
learn that we start without Loretta, business calling him home for a few
days. But we shall be glad to see him when he comes.
Today I ventured something, the results of which, if there are any, I
suppose I shall never know. Our two officers have been very much, on my
mind. Pendleton has been his usual self emphasized, very much on his job
of receiving the equipment, extra clear and precise, more subtle and more
distant in his little ironical smile. The captain, also busy with the
equipment work, was surprisingly gentle, patient with all our many
blunders, very quiet spoken, and somehow closer to us. But while he
attended to us so carefully, somehow I felt that he was thinking of
something else.
Now last night Pendleton, I thank God, could not have seen me at the
portieres, nor could Vera. But the captain might have, for he faced my
way; surely he must have seen the curtains open. If he recognized me, I
know he must have thought of it today when, the last of the men gone, and
his tallies all made up, he stood up from the table that had been placed
in front of his tent, just as I came along by. We were entirely apart
from the rest; so I, having thought a good deal on how far I could
venture, took my chance to speak.
I had to be quick, or he would have stopped me. Said I: "Miss Wadsworth
doesn't live down to her theories, captain. Certainly she didn't do it in
my case."
Then, saluting, I was off. By the gleam that had sprung to his eyes I
knew that he understood me, even though he said nothing. For of course he
has been wondering whether after all I have a chance with Vera, and has
been weighing his earnings against mine.
Dreary business, this love making. Lucky I'm out of it.
DICK.
VERA WADSWORTH TO HER SISTER FRANCES
Plattsburg, Monday the 25th.
DEAR FRANCES:--
In spite of my trying to stop it, it has happened.
He came walking in yesterday evening, when I was all by myself in the
parlor. I have told you, you remember, that one of his qualities is a
strange gentleness. He told me, in that manner of his, that he would take
only a minute of my time, and while I sat perfectly tongue-tied before
him, as if I were a schoolgirl, this is what he said, without any
passionate declaration, or any self-assertion.
"I came last night, Miss Wadsworth, to tell you that I loved you. You saw
it and stopped me. There seemed no answer to you then, but I have found
one now, and I think you ought to let me say it.
"You said that a man ought to be able to offer to a woman the best that
there is. I came to offer it. Our army women serve their country, not as
we men do, yet they do serve the flag, and unselfishly. There is really
nothing better that can be done by man or woman.
"There is only one other thing that seems to me worth while. It makes the
cottage the equal of the palace. I brought it--honest love. No true woman
can ask more."
Then he went away. I could not stop him; could not try to explain. How
could I say anything against those awful words? Besides, he spoke with
such a thrill as if he were showing me his religion. A dreadful
simplicity of belief! I know all his words by heart. All night long I
have been saying them over and over; and when this morning I heard the
drums, it was as if they said them too.
Do come quickly to your
VERA.
PRIVATE GODWIN'S FIRST HIKE LETTER
West Beekmantown, N. Y.
Monday the 25th, 3 P. M.
DEAR MOTHER:--
How glad I was, at the end of today's hike, to march into the big field
(where the cook tents already stood with smoking fires before them) to
have the two halves of the company line up facing each other, and to hear
the captain command, "Form for shelter tents!"
The file-closers scurried round and got into the vacant places. Every man
gave an anticipatory hitch at the pack that had gradually grown so heavy;
and the front rank men, if they thought the captain was not looking,
loosened their bayonets in their sheaths.
"Take interval, to the right and left!" We rear rank men stepped four
paces backward.
"Harch!" Both ranks faced away from the cook tents, and the lieutenant
began to count, "_One_--two--three--four--_One_--two--three--four!" and
at every _One_ a pair of men, front and rear rank bunkies, stepped off
together, till the whole company was marching by pairs, at intervals of
four paces, and the captain thundered orders to the guides to march
straight.
"Halt!" And halting, we faced inward to what was to be the company
street. I unclasped my belt.
"Pitch shelter tents!" Out came the bayonets of the front rank men, and
were thrust into the ground at the right heel. Then down with the rifles,
off with the packs, and we on our knees were hastily opening them and
dragging out the shelter-halves, the pins, and the ropes. Bann and I laid
the long sides of our halves together, lapping the upper one away from
the wind, and buttoned them along (how glad I was that we practised this
yesterday, found where a loop was missing and some button-holes torn, and
made everything good!) The ropes were tied in the loops, Bann's rifle was
stood beside his bayonet, the muzzle beneath the front loop; we aligned
our sloping ridgepole at right angles to the street, drove in our front
and rear pins and tied the ropes, and then I, creeping into the tent with
my bayonet in its sheath, set it upright under the end of the ridge. Then
quickly we pegged down the sides and back, stretching them well out, laid
back the front flaps of our kennel, set our equipment in the double
doorway, passed the inspection of the lieutenant, and felt proud. Then
mess, with its stew and its vegetables, its bread and butter, and even
with milk, which we are warned we may never see again. Since when we have
been retrospecting, doctoring, washing at a poor apology for a brook, and
making ourselves comfortable in anticipation of Retreat and of the night.
Remarkable things, these shelter tents, just broad enough at the front
for the shoulders of two men, and at the back for their feet, with a
further recess for the equipment. Along the edges can be stowed the
toilet articles and such things as need to be handy, with the spare
rifle. After removing all boulders from the floor, and digging hollows
for our hips, we have carpeted with straw, bought of a thrifty farmer who
hauled it here and sold for twenty-five cents per poncho- or
blanket-load. We now know a little better the meaning of the term
buzzard. On the thick layer we have made our beds, some of the fellows'
together, but Bann's and mine separately, for I have warned him that I am
a restless sleeper. On my tummy on my sleeping bag I am writing to you
now.