by Gordon Bates
CHAPTER III
THE BEGINNING OF COMRADESHIP
"Did you see the way that officer grabbed those roses from under thewheels?" demanded Jimmy excitedly, as he and Roger settled back in theirseats. The train had now left the shed behind and was steadily gatheringmomentum. "Pretty clever in him, wasn't it?"
Roger nodded. "It showed that he was interested in us even if we arejust rookies. I wonder how long it will take us to look as well in ouruniforms as he does in his? What did you do with your Infantry Manual?We ought to be studying up a little while we're on the way."
Roger referred to the little blue books he and Jimmy had purchased at adepartment store soon after their enlistment. As he spoke he reachedinto a pocket of his coat and drew his own forth.
"Mine's kicking around in my suitcase somewhere," grinned Jimmy rathersheepishly. "I've been intending to study it, but I've had so many otherthings to do. Put it back. Don't go to studying now. I want to talk toyou. Time enough for us to get busy when we hit Camp Sterling. Maybe Ididn't hate to leave Old Speedy behind, though. Next to the folks comesSpeedy and after that Buster, my brindle bull pup. That dog certainlyknew I was going away for keeps when I said good-bye to him. But hewon't be neglected. Buster has lots of friends. Everybody on our streetknows him. Next to me he likes Mother. She'll take good care of him. Butpoor Old Speedy'll have a lonesome time shut up in the garage. It's sucha giddy-looking machine you couldn't hire the folks to ride half a blockin it. But you can't have everything, so what's the use of worrying?"
His active mind leaping from the subject of his car back to the officerwhose recent kindly act he had so sturdily commended, he continuedirrelevantly: "Say, an officer that would do a thing like that ought tobe good to his men. Don't you think so? I've heard a lot of stuff aboutofficers being regular cranks and jumping all over their men just forspite. Do you suppose it's true?"
"No, I don't," Roger made emphatic return. "I don't believe that part ofit is much different in the Army from what it is in a shop or factoryor an office. Only, of course, there has to be stricter discipline inthe Army. I've worked in a good many different places and I've found outthat the way you're treated most always depends on the way you do yourwork. Of course, wherever you go you're sure to meet some people youwon't like and who won't like you. If you mind your own business and let'em alone, generally they'll let you alone."
"But suppose they don't? What then?"
"Well," Roger looked reflective, "I never had that happen to me butonce. It was when I worked in that shipping department. There was a boyabout my size or maybe a little bigger who wouldn't let me alone. He'dmake mistakes and then lay them to me. At last I got sick of it and gavehim a good licking. He let me alone after that. You couldn't do thatwith an Army officer, though. You'd have to stand it and say nothing.Anyway, I don't believe you'd find one officer in a thousand thatwouldn't treat you fairly. It's just as much to them to have the respectof their men as it is to the men to have the good will of theirofficers."
Unconsciously Roger had voiced the opinion that prevails from coast tocoast among both commissioned and non-commissioned officers in theUnited States Service. The mistaken impression that those who have beenplaced in commands in the National Army are a brow-beating, bullyinglot is fast passing. The Army officer of to-day respects himself toomuch to abuse his authority. He also values the good will of his men toogreatly to abuse them. All this, however, the Khaki Boys were presentlyto learn for themselves.
"I guess your head's level," conceded Jimmy. "I'm glad you licked thatshipping-room dub. I hate a _sneak_!"
The explosive utterance caused the heads of two young men in the seat infront of their own to turn simultaneously in Jimmy's direction. One ofthem, a dark, thin-faced lad with twinkling black eyes and a wide,pleasant mouth, spoke. "Hope you didn't mean me," he offeredgood-humoredly. The other, stockily-built, his pale, stolid featuresbearing the unmistakable cast of the foreigner, stared at Jimmy out ofround, china-blue eyes, with the unblinking gaze of an owl.
"Course not," apologized Jimmy, reddening. "Why should I mean you?"
"I don't know, I'm sure." The smiling lips widened to a broad grin. "Yousaid it pretty loudly. It almost made me jump."
"Well, I meant it," maintained Jimmy stoutly, "but not for you. I meantit for any fellow, though, who isn't square and above-board."
"Shake." The black-eyed youth half-raised himself in his seat andoffered Jimmy his hand. His companion continued to stare dumbly, asthough dazed by the suddenness of the whole thing.
"I saw you at the recruiting station the other day," observed Roger,addressing the boy who had offered his hand. "You were just coming outof the place as I was going in."
"I saw you, too," nodded the other. "That used to be my business; justseeing people and things and writing 'em up afterward. I was a cubreporter on the _Chronicle_. Then I got the enlisting habit and here Iam."
"Every morning I read him, that paper," announced a solemn voice. Thedumb had come into speech. "_You_ write him?" The questioning round blueeyes looked awe upon his seatmate.
"Ha, ha! That's a good one," shouted the ex-reporter gleefully. "Say,Oscar, what do you take me for?"
"That is no my name. It is Ignace; so. Ignace Pulinski," was the calmcorrection. "I am one, a Pole."
"Well, 'Ignace So Pulinski, one, a Pole,' you've got another thinkcoming. I used to write about this much of the _Chronicle_. See." Theboyish news-gatherer indicated a space of about three inches between histhumb and first finger.
"That is no much." Ignace relapsed into disappointed silence. Nor did heoffer a word when his energetic companions proposed turning their seatso as to face Jimmy and Roger. He lumbered awkwardly to his feet and satstolidly down again as though moved by invisible strings.
"I was lucky to get that some days." Now seated opposite his newacquaintances the reporter resumed the subject of his recent occupation.Noting Roger's and Jimmy's patent amusement, their friendly _vis-a-vis_winked roguishly at them and continued, "Well, no more of it for me.What branch of the service did you fellows enlist in?"
"Infantry," came the concerted answer. "We thought we'd like to be sureof a front place in the big fight."
"You'll get it," was the grim assurance. "This war's going to last longafter we've hit the trenches in France and done our bit. We're lucky tobe going to Sterling. It's one of the best camps in the country. It wasone of the first to be laid out. I was sent up there by my paper to geta story about it when it was just starting. It was nothing but a lot ofcornfields then. I was up there again about three weeks ago and maybethere wasn't a difference, though! Ground all cleared, company streetslaid out and barracks going up fast. It's a dandy place for a camp. Goodand dry with no swamps. There shouldn't be many men on sick list."
"How large is it?" inquired Roger interestedly.
"Covers about eight square miles, I should say; maybe a little more thanthat. I hadn't thought of enlisting until after the second trip to it.Then I just had to step in line. I wasn't going to hang back until thedraft got me, like a lot of fellows I know. I figured it out this way.If I went into the Army and came out alive at the end of the war, I'dhave had all the fun and a barrel of experience. If I got to France andthen went West--that's what they call it when you cash in yourchecks--I'd have a lot of fun anyhow while I lasted. I'd like to get awhack at the Fritzies, so why lose a chance at it? Infantry for mine,though, every time."
"I hope we are put in the same barrack." This new acquaintance was onestrictly after impetuous Jimmy's own heart.
"So do I." A flash of approval sprang to the young reporter's face. Hismental appraisal of Roger and Jimmy had been "all to the good."
"I go by you, an' you, an' you, mebbe, huh?" Ignace again came to life,accompanying each "you" with a rigid pointing of a stubby forefinger.
"Mebbe, huh," agreed Jimmy solemnly. "Later on you might be sorry forit, too. Didn't you ever hear about appearances being deceitful?"
A slow grin overspread the
Pole's stolid face. "I take the chance," hedeclared, thereby proving that he was not so stupid as he seemed.
"You're a real sport, Iggy." His seatmate playfully slapped him on theshoulder. "I guess if you can stand us we can stand you."
"You are no ver' strong." Ignace was evidently more impressed by thelack of force that had attended the light blow than by the compliment."My father ver' strong man," he added with a reminiscent frown.
"Well, I hadn't expected to knock your head off," conceded the othersatirically. "That was only a friendly tap." Struck by a sudden thoughthe asked curiously, "How'd you happen to enlist, Iggy? Are youtwenty-one?"
"Y-e-a. Twenty-one an' two weeks. So"--the china-blue eyes took on adefiant glint--"run 'way. My father, he no like this war. He say I no go'cause no American. I say, 'go anyhow.' Better I think be solder an' getkill once than my father most kill when he hit me much. I work by onemill, but he get all moneys I make. This is no right, I say many time,and always get the black eye or the bloody nose. So go quiet by placean' say to man there, 'I can be the solder? I like fight for thiscountry.' Then I don't go home more. Stay by a frien' an' my fatherdon't know nothin' till too late."
Once started on a recital of his own troubles, Ignace had hardly stoppedfor breath. There were no smiles on the faces of his listeners when hehad finished. The lack of excitement in his voice as he droned forth thestory of his own patriotic awakening and his final revolt, brought asympathetic gleam into three pairs of eyes.
"I guess it's time to shake with you, Iggy." Jimmy suited the action tothe word by grabbing the Polish boy's rough hand.
"Here, too," called out the reporter. "Let's all shake and tell ourright names. Mine's Robert Dalton. Either Bob or Dal'll do."
"Mine's Jimmy Blazes, James Blaise when we have company. This oldsobersides is Roger Barlow. He's got to have a shorter name than that,though."
"Call him Ruddy and let it go at that," suggested Dalton. "I used toknow a fellow named Roger. We called him Ruddy or Rodge."
"Either'll suit me." Roger was secretly pleased with his new names.
"Ahem! We have with us this afternoon, Iggy and Jimmy and Bob andRodge." Dalton stood up, threw out his chest, thrusting his left handpompously inside his coat. "We're here because we're here. Gentlemen, onus depends the safety of the great American commonwealth. Until weentered this stupendous conflict, all was lost. But you can't lose us.We're Four Dauntless Dubs Devoted to Daring Deeds. How's that?" Daltonbeamed patronizingly on the trio, then sat down.
"Not so bad. We're sure enough dubs when it comes to soldiering!" smiledRoger. "I expect we'll feel we're less than that if we get into theawkward squad for being slow for drill. I'm not going to stay in the dubclass, though." His boyish mouth set in determined lines. "I'm not goingto get into the awkward squad if I can possibly help it."
"Some ambitious rookie," teased Bob. "Well, it's a great life if youdon't weaken. I'm not saying where I'm going to land. Just so I land onboth feet every time. When I used to write in my copy book, 'Obedienceis the first and last duty of a soldier,' I never thought that it wasgoing to come home to me like this. That's the whole game in a nutshell,though. Speak when you're spoken to, etc. Throw out your chest and lookhappy when you get a call-down. 'Love your country and can up theFritzies before they can you,' is going to be my motto. How any huskyfellow with good red blood in his veins can read about what's going on'Over There,' and never blink an eyelash, is more than I can see." Bobhad grown serious. "All I hope is that it won't be long until our turncomes to go over. I might have enlisted a good while ago. Wish I had. Ihaven't a relative in the world to worry over except an uncle who's apacifist, and I'm not worrying much about him. Too bad he's too old forthe draft. I'd like to hear him spouting peace to a line of chargingBoches. This is about the way he'd do it!"
Bob drew down his face, and proceeded to give an imitation of hispeace-loving relative that made even solemn Ignace laugh.
"It is good I come sit here," congratulated the Pole. "You are fonny,but you have the kind heart. You make of me the fon, I no care. I nomake the fon of you. Somebody hit you. I hit him. I am the fren'."
"Much obliged, old man." Bob looked surprised and touched at this suddentribute of loyalty. "I can take care of myself, though. I'm strong, evenif you don't think so."
"I am no the old man," corrected Ignace with dignity. "Anyhow, I takecare you!"
"I certainly seem to be popular with some people," murmured Bob. "Allright, Iggy, you can go as far as you like. Maybe I do need a keeper. Ifyou and I land side by side in the same barrack we'll be bunkies, likeJimmy and Roger. I know a good thing when I meet it."
"Brothers all!" Ignace raised a hand as though pronouncing abenediction.
In the days to come the Polish boy's declamation was to be fulfilled tothe letter. From that chance meeting in the train was to spring acomradeship between the four young men, all from such different walks inlife, that would do much toward helping them over the hard ruts in theGlory Road.
