CHAPTER IX
A NEW LIFE
For some time after the train had started the spirits of the men weresubdued. All were thinking of the dear ones they had left behind andmight never see again. They were thinking too of the new life--or wasit, perhaps, death?--that they were facing.
But it was not in the nature of things that this feeling should longpersist amid such a buoyant, boisterous gathering of young fellows andbefore long the cars of the train were resounding with jests andlaughter.
"How far off is this Camp Boone?" asked Bart, who had secured a seat atFrank's side.
"I haven't exactly figured it out," replied the latter, as he stretchedhis long legs comfortably, "but in the rough, it's about three hundredmiles. The way the tracks are crowded now, I don't think we'll getthere much before to-morrow morning."
"I don't suppose they'll have it half ready for us," continued Bart."The Government's had to put it up in an awful hurry."
"We can't expect to find all the comforts of home," returned Frank."But as long as we have a place to sleep and three square meals a day Iguess there won't be much kick coming."
"There will be no discount on the grub," put in Billy Waldon. "UncleSam's a good provider and he'll see that his boys have plenty to eat."
Frank's prediction was fulfilled, for it was early the next morningwhen the train stopped at the little town from which Camp Boone wasabout three miles distant.
It was a glorious morning for a hike and after the commissarydepartment had done its duty and each man had tucked away a goodbreakfast under his belt the regiment fell into line and covered theintervening miles in quick time. All were filled with eagerness to seethe place that was to be their home during many months of training.
It was a busy scene that met their eyes when at last they came withinview of the camp. A small army of workmen was swarming all over theplace and the sounds of hammers and groaning of derricks and hum ofmachinery filled the air with a deafening din.
"Didn't I tell you it would be only half finished?" said Bart. "I hopethey've got roofs on the barracks. They say they have bad weatheraround here and I don't want to get killed before I meet a German.Gee, that would be tough luck!"
"You can't build a city in a single night," Frank replied, as he sawthe apparently endless row of buildings prepared for their reception."And that's what this is going to be--a city in itself. The wonder tome is, not that they've done so little but that they've done so much."
"They say there are going to be thirty thousand soldiers here," put inBilly Waldon. "Before a month is over there'll be more fellows livinghere than people in the whole city of Camport. That gives you someidea of the work the Government has to do. But Uncle Sam is someworker when he once takes his coat off. Even the Kaiser will admitthat before he gets through with him."
The regiment had filed through the great gate in perfect order, butonce inside, the officers quickly gave the command to break ranks, forthey themselves were quite as eager as the men to inspect their newquarters.
The camp had been skillfully laid out by one of the most distinguishedarchitects in the country. Its general form was that of the letter Uabout two miles long and a mile in width. The ground was slightlyrolling and had been nearly cleared of trees in order to permit theerection of the buildings.
But the architect had not sacrificed everything to mere utility for inone corner of the camp a large grove of noble trees had been leftuntouched and took away from the bareness of the general plan.
Along the sides of the camp stretched the barracks, plain, two-storyframe buildings hastily put together and guiltless of any attempt atdecoration.
On the floors were endless rows of cots with just enough space left toafford a passage between them. There were no heating arrangements asyet, but, as summer was just beginning, this was a matter of noimportance and there would be ample time for that later on.
There were separate buildings that served as mess halls for the variousregiments. The officers' buildings were grouped together in a specialsection and these, although plain, were a little more elaborate thanthose destined for the men.
Besides these there was a host of other buildings, stables for thehorses, laundries, lavatories, shower baths and all the otherstructures that were essential to a city that had sprung up likeJonah's gourd, almost over night.
"Not half bad, eh, old man?" said Bart, giving his chum a bang on theshoulder.
"I should say not," replied Frank. "They don't seem to have forgottenmuch. It's neat but not gaudy."
"Now if our friend, the chef, is all right," grinned Bart, "and isn'tstingy with the grub, we'll have nothing left to ask for."
"We'll get a line on that pretty soon, I hope," said Frank, his eyeswandering wistfully in the direction of the mess tent. "That hike'smade me hungry enough to eat nails. When the mess horn toots you won'tbe able to see me, I'll run so fast."
"I'll race you," said Bart. "Mother used to say I had the appetite ofa wolf. Now I feel like a pack of 'em."
Any misgivings that they might have had on that subject were promptlydispelled by their first meal in camp. The food served was well cookedand abundant and those who sought a second or even a third helping werenot denied.
"Well," remarked Bart, with a sigh born of comfort and repletion as herose from the meal, "I guess Napoleon was right when he said that anarmy travels on its stomach."
"Gee, if that's so, Uncle Sam's boys will travel some distance," saidBilly Waldon with a grin.
"As far as Berlin, you bet!" cried Frank emphatically.
Before many days had passed the regiment had fully settled down intothe routine of army life at Camp Boone.
That routine was almost unvarying and therein lay its value in moldingthe growing army into a perfect fighting machine. It fostered teamwork of the finest kind.
At six o'clock the bugle blew reveille that called the sleepers fromtheir cots. There was no disregarding that imperative summons, noturning over for another "forty winks."
In an instant the sleeping camp had sprung to life. Uniforms weredonned, faces washed, hair slicked back and cots made inside of fifteenminutes.
Then came the "monkey drill" and setting-up exercises, when the boyshad to go through all sorts of grotesque but beneficial motions toexercise the muscles and stir the blood.
Of course there was some grumbling at first. Bart, who with all hisphysical fitness, liked to get his sleep out in the morning, had hardwork to get his eyes open and feet on the floor at the same moment.
"Gee, how do you do it?" he grumblingly asked of Frank one morning,just after reveille and while he was rushing around with tousled headand one eye shut. "By the time I know I'm awake you're all ready, andworse than that, you look as if you enjoyed it. Gee, it's a gift!"
"You're like the man," Frank had remarked cheerfully, as he trussed uphis trousers, "who was sentenced to die at daybreak. 'Oh, that's allright,' he answered. 'I never get up that early!'"
But the setting up exercises never failed to banish the last vestige ofdrowsiness, and by seven o'clock breakfast began to assume giganticproportions. And how they ate!
After breakfast came the manual of arms, field practice, drilling insemaphore work and sometimes--this the boys looked forward to andenjoyed most,--a long hike in the spring sunshine to the exhilaratingbeat of martial music.
Then from eleven to two they did as they pleased and as dinner camewithin that period they mostly, to quote Billy Waldon, "wolfed."
The meals continued hearty and satisfying and as the days went on theboys broadened out and seemed, by the aid of muscular training andupright carriage, even to gain in height.
One morning Frank found a poem in a magazine he was reading and recitedit to a group of laughing comrades. Thereafter it became the popularmess chant and the boys standing in line with their dishes would shoutit out at the top of their lusty lungs to the great amusement of allconcerned. It went something like this:
"
You may mutter and swear at the reveille call With its 'Can't get 'em up in the morning;' And you may not be fond of assembly at all But you drop into line at the warning; Police call will cause you a lot of distress Though you answer at once or regret it, But you jump when the splinter lips bugle for mess And the hash slinger yells, 'Come and get it!'"
Then came the chorus in which all joined:
"For you know that it means 'Form in line for your beans With your mess kit in hand--do it now!' And you cheerfully come for your coffee and slum, For your coffee and slum When the splinter lips bugle for chow!"
It was all great fun, this jolly camp life, but it had its serious sidealso. All the boys felt the inspiration, almost exaltation of beingone of so great a body of men, men fired with the same enthusiasm, thesame great purpose to accomplish their glorious mission or die in theattempt.
Training in the use of modern weapons of warfare sobered the boys alittle.
"I suppose I'm squeamish," said Bart to Frank one day, when they hadfinished a lesson in the throwing of hand grenades, "and I won't blameyou or anybody else if you laugh at me. But I don't like those things.Every time I throw one I think of the possible mark it'll find some dayin the German trenches and it makes me sick."
"Yes," said Frank, nodding gravely, "I know just how you feel, onlyit's the bayonet practice that gets me most. If those dummies werehuman instead of stuffed rags, I couldn't feel much worse aboutsticking the point into them.'
"Oh, we're soft yet," said Billy, sauntering up to them. "I suppose itwill take us quite some time to get hardened to this wholesaleslaughter. But when we feel too squeamish, we want to remember theBelgian women and children murdered and tortured, defenseless old menslaughtered--"
"Yes," said Frank, his shoulders squaring and mouth setting grimly."There's nothing like the memory of Dinant to make a fellow grip hisbayonet!"