Читать книгу Jed's Boy - Warren Lee Goss - Страница 8

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Shortly after the incidents narrated in the foregoing chapter, I, with several others, among them Jot and Sam, was granted a leave of absence of fifteen days to visit our homes. This, we believed, meant that we were soon to be sent to France where, from the first, we desired to be.

When we reached the little village near our homes, we were curiously viewed by the people, who up to that time had seen little of the present day soldiers in khaki. We were hospitably treated by our people, and those who knew us gathered around to ask questions, as is the habit of New England folks.

On our arrival home, it is needless to say, we were greeted with hearty enthusiasm. Neighbors flocked in to see us, and Aunt Josie expressed her interest and love, after the usual manner of New England self-contained matrons, by a big dinner. Even Muddy was treated with affection and, for the first time in his home experience, was not considered as being “under foot” and in the way.

“How straight you are!” said Aunt Joe. “I declare I think you have grown an inch, and you were a big hulking fellow when you went away from here.” Six months of military discipline had certainly left its impress upon all of us. Jot had filled out in chest and shoulders and, though not so tall and “bulking” as I, as Aunt Joe called it, was a fine-looking soldierly youth, lithe and active. Even Sam’s rather rotund form, was reduced to soldierly proportions.

“Gosh!” said his father anxiously, “you ain’t got any belly hardly at all. Hev’ they been starvin’ you?”

“No, Dad, we have all we want to eat in camp, and we have the wust kind of appetite after one o’ them drills. I guess you don’t know what they do to a feller down here to take the fat off him and the kinks out of him?”

“Yes, I do, Sam,” responded his father; “guess I’ve been trained a lot myself.”

“Did y’ ever go through the settin’ up drill?” asked Sam.

“Yes, Sam, I have set up nights a lot, but I never had to drill it. I got sort of used to it when I was courtin’.”

“I guess, Dad, you don’t understand; now I will give the orders and drill you.” And then Sam put his father through enough of the physical exercise to show him what he meant and until Uncle Jim smiled to see him puff.

The months of drill had certainly improved us physically. The difference between slouching country boys and soldierly youth, was written all over each of us.

Muddy, too, had his receptions; and even Bill Jenkins who was again working on the farm, said: “Well, he’s a pretty good dog, and will do well enough now that he’s been trained.”

My aunt was a proud woman when she took Jot and me to church with her, and introduced us to the new minister. The old church where my mother and father had worshipped was filled, and we were greeted on every side by friendly people, especially by the teachers and members of the Sunday School to which Jot and I had been constant attendants when at home.

One of the young ladies of the class was Miss Emily Grant, of whom, in former times, I had been an ardent, though shy admirer. She introduced both Jot and me to a visiting friend, Miss Rose Rich, whom she had brought home with her from a Massachusetts boarding school.

Jot, usually so reticent, showed his approval of her, by saying: “Isn’t she fine? Her father is a doctor and she is going to take up Red Cross work.”

The friendliness of the two was observable to others besides myself. Miss Grant said to me, “Rose seems much taken with your friend.”

“He is the smartest noncommissioned officer,” I replied, “in the training camp. He’s top sergeant, and that means something, I can tell you.”

I told Uncle Jim about Colonel Burbank and what he said about my father. And Uncle Jim said, “Seems to me I heard your father mention him. I wonder if it was him that your father brought from between the lines badly wounded durin’ the Winchester fight? Shouldn’t wonder if it was.”

But I had never heard about it.

When Jot and I had visited, for the last time, the familiar scenes of the farm, and he had petted and talked to the horses and cows, we left our home for the camp again. A boy never realizes what a home means to him until he is leaving it, possibly forever; for I had a dim perception of what was possibly before me.

Several friends, besides my aunt and uncle, were at the station to bid us good-bye. Among them were Emily Grant and Rose Rich.

With the usual leave takings and waving of handkerchiefs from friends, the engine puffed, the train clanked out from the station, and we were off.

Back at camp we entered upon another course of training in company, regimental and battalion drill, with bayonet exercises, machine-gun fire, and the digging of trenches, as a preliminary to participation in modern warfare.

An old Civil War veteran, who had viewed our preparations, said to me, “If Grant had had these machine guns and other arms, he could have made the Rebs howl and ended the war in short order. Why, there is as great a difference between the equipments of this new army and our old Union Army as there is between a stage coach and an express train.”

Jot had been transferred to our regiment, at his request, and became first sergeant of a company. At one of our meetings at the Y. M. C. A. he said to me, “Don’t say anything about it, but I think that we are likely to break camp soon and go to France.”

“What makes you think so?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “they have been making shipping lists for the regiment; and then the furloughs they have been giving, and other little things make me think so.”

I soon found that a rumor of the same purport was all around camp. Like most youngsters, I was hungry for a change; so when the top sergeant ordered us to be ready to move within a few hours, I was glad at the prospect of the change to some other place. Yet I thought of submarines and other scarey unpleasant possibilities, that night, before I slept.

The order came at last—it was on Sunday—for an army has no days more sacred than duty. Though we were not supposed to know where we were going, we all guessed—the Yankee birthright—and guessed France. Our outfit consisted of two suits of Olive Drab, canvas leggins, two woolen shirts, woolen underwear and stockings, two pairs of garrison shoes, a Mackinaw short overcoat, a belt, three blankets, and a comforter, all of which were carried in our packs. On top of the pack roll was the haversack, containing our kits, which consisted of a long handled aluminum fold pan with removable cover, in which were a knife and fork and spoon; two oblong cases for meat, hard bread, sugar and coffee. The ammunition belt was hung to this pack, and a canteen nesting in the cup hung from it. There was also a barrack bag belonging to our outfits, but this was carried by motor truck to the station.

This I remember to my sorrow, as did others in similar cases, for I did not see it again until our arrival in France, though it contained goodies from home, and chocolates. Others did not see their cigarettes and tobacco again until long after.

At dark, with our packs strapped upon our backs, we moved to the station and were embarked on board of ordinary passenger cars—a noncommissioned officer at the doors of each car to see that none went out and that no one not belonging there went in. Each commissioned officer had a list that showed the place of each man and saw that he stayed there.

The next morning we found our train at a big New York terminal, and had our breakfast—of sandwiches and hot coffee that had been prepared for us the day before.

From there we were embarked on a ferry boat. Our company was on the top deck where we could see the tugs, steamers and ferry boats, busily moving on the stream, as we swung up the broad Hudson to the piers where several big transports lay.

Sailing lists of every man’s name in order of formation had been made in duplicate, one for our officers and another in the hands of the embarking officer. So he knew just how many of us there were, and had already designated a berth for each man.

The railroad transport officer met us with the inquiry: “Is Company —— of —— Regiment on this boat?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Colonel Burbank?”

“Here, sir!”

“Good. Disembark at once, sir. Your transport sails in half an hour. Form your men on the dock opposite the freight clerk.”

“Yes, sir!”

“A loading detail of ten men!”

“Yes, sir!”

We disembark; but before the first company could be formed a transportation officer without saying by your leave marched us on board. He is the supreme officer on the dock—no matter if the general commanding be present the officer is the boss.

Along the deck we went in column and on board the huge transport.

“Your sailing list, sir!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you formed in order of list?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good! Load the company, Mr. Blank.”

The clerk, with a lieutenant by his side with a duplicate list, calls out, “First Sergeant Smith.”

“Here, sir.”

The sergeant is handed a ticket, goes up the gangplank where he meets another sailor who sends him below; there he meets another sailor who sends him still further below, and so on until he is at the bottom of the ship where the bilge water smells. The others follow until the ship is stowed with a human freight of three thousand five hundred men.

Every man has his bunk of collapsible iron tubing which stand in tiers three high, with a passage way between. Later on, the top sergeant gets a second class room. No dogs allowed; but I smuggled Muddy in under my big coat.

We were all on board by night, and slept in our new quarters, but were surprised to awake in the morning and find our ship still at the dock. We were allowed to go ashore for exercise on the dock, and the ship routine began. Our canteens were ordered to be filled but not to be used except in an emergency.

Before daylight, next morning, we swung out into the river and down into the broadening harbor, to the sea. We were all allowed on deck. As I stood viewing the scene on every side, of brilliantly lighted cities and towns, Jot came up, touched me on the shoulder and, with a sweep of his hand, said, “Don’t it put you in mind of that verse in the Bible,—‘Gazar and her towns and villages, unto the river of Egypt and the great sea and the border thereof?’” Then, as we waved an adieu to the Statue of Liberty he added, “We are the vanguard of the army to make good the meaning of that Statue that France has prophetically placed there. We go to deliver France and the world.”

The land began to fade as daylight brightened. The broad sea spread out before us and with it a possible broader vista of life’s great drama and of the freedom of men as yet unborn, whose destinies we were perhaps carrying across the sea.

The naval officers were in supreme command of all on board and we soldiers were put to ship routine at once.

“It looks to me,” said Sergeant Nickerson, “like a huge job to feed all of us in this one dining room.”

“But it isn’t our business,” I replied, “so long as we get the grub.”

“But it may be everybody’s business if they don’t get it; and that’s what I am thinking about.” The difficulty was solved in this way. The men were marched to the room, and ate standing in line or at long tables. As fast as one batch was fed, another took its place. By the time breakfast was over, lunch began. It was a sort of endless chain made up of men, moving on schedule time.

Men began to growl—growling is a soldier’s safety valve, and his privilege ever since soldiering first began.

“Sure,” said Pat Quinn, “it’s ating tactics we are being drilled in. Ye’s open ye’s mouths so many toimes and then swallow—one toime and three motions!”

“What are you growling about?” said Private Shaw. “There’ll likely be another motion on this ship soon, so that you can’t swallow at all!”

So with rough jokes and gibes we ate our first breakfast on board ship. Then ship drill began. Each man was assigned to a boat or raft, and we learned the ship calls. When the bugle sounded “Assembly” every man was to go on deck and take his place at his boat or raft. At “Abandon Ship,” the boats and rafts were supposed to be got into the water. “Quarters” meant every man below, to his bunk.

We go through the motions—only—of getting the boats and rafts over the side of the ship. When our instructor said that a raft was safer than a boat, but that we were never to climb onto one, but hang on with both hands, we were skeptical about it.

“He wants to keep a boat for himself,” said Sam. “That is what he is preaching it for.”

We knew, however, that the safety of all on board might depend upon our efficiency at this drill.

With boat drill—mornings and afternoons—scrubbing decks, eating, and seasickness, our time was pretty fully occupied. I was dreadfully sick for a time, and did not care whether a submarine sunk us or not, but got over it before long. It was very close below decks, where we were mostly confined, and a hardship to those accustomed to the free air.

Our company was so fortunate as to be detailed as extra deck watch, and a group of us were on duty at all hours, day and night. It was an autocratic job—we were “It.” We could refuse to take orders or answer questions from even the colonel! Our post for this duty was a little box of a pen where, with fine binoculars, we kept watch for submarines. I liked the duty; it was a change and much like guard duty.

Before entering the danger zone we got detailed instructions against lights. Every match and flashlight on the ship had to be given up, and all hatches were closed at twilight. Even illuminated wrist watches were forbidden on deck at night.

One day a submarine was actually sighted. I was on duty in the watch box with several of my company, when I saw something sticking out of the water like a small flag staff.

“Submarine!” I yelled excitedly. Just then “bang!” went the forward deck gun and the periscope disappeared. Soon it was seen again at another quarter and another gun banged at it. Sam took up his rifle to shoot at it, but was restrained, though he declared he could put a bullet through it. Then “bang” went another of our guns, and we were told that she was sunk, but I doubted it.

“Shucks!” growled Sam, “how can we shoot a Boche if we have to wait for orders? He will get away from us, before we can get them!”

There was no excitement, though a young lieutenant rushed around saying, “Be calm, men! be calm!” But some of us thought he was not living up to his own orders.

Soon after this Colonel Burbank sent for me to come to his cabin. After several kind inquiries about my folks, especially my father, he said, casually, “Sergeant Nickerson, I learn, has lived at your home? What do you know about him or his people?”

I told him all that I knew about him, and said, among other things, that he had told my mother that Nickerson was only a part of his name. And I interspersed with this information not a little praise of Jot, to camouflage the fact that I didn’t actually know much about him.

The purpose of these inquiries the colonel did not, of course, reveal. I was not a little surprised, however, when he said: “He looks like a German officer I once knew. I infer, from what you have told me, that he does not talk much about himself or his business. It’s a very soldierly quality!”

As I went to my quarters below decks this remark was buzzing in my head like a bumble bee in a haying field. As the colonel had not instructed me to the contrary, I informed Jot, when I again saw him, about the colonel’s remarks—all except the last one, about the German officer.

Jot stood for a moment, as though in thought, and then said, “It will do no harm to tell you that I can speak a little German which I learned from my father and his people. The first words I ever spoke were German; but mother didn’t like it.” Here he stopped as though he had already said too much, then, putting his hands affectionately on my shoulders, added, “Does it really make any difference to you, David, who my father was, when you know me so well?” And I knew that it would be useless to ask him further questions on that subject.

We soon began to meet ships and fishing craft, mine sweepers, and tankers, which showed that we were nearing the coast. Next came a point of land like a cloud on the horizon, and then the top of a lighthouse appeared.

Was it France or England? It was France.

We learned that we were the first American transport to land at this port.

Entering a narrow channel which widened out into a broad harbor, we were safe in France!

“No one lands until ordered to do so by the commander of the port,” was the next order.

It was not until the next day that the colonel, and some other officers were ordered ashore to see the port commodore; then, after some more waiting, we were told to get ready for landing. Shortly after, we saw the lighters coming up on which we were to disembark.