CHAPTER XIV SOMEWHAT DIFFERENT

Out of the gray, chilly, and silent dawn came the sharp notes of a bugle. The sound echoed among the mist-enshrouded hills, the notes vibrating in and out among the trees, and then seemed to die away in the distance.

But if any one of the several thousand prospective soldiers, sleeping the sleep of the more or less just in the tents of Camp Dixton, thought it was but a dream, those notes of the bugle, he was sadly, if not rudely, awakened when the sound came with greater insistence, as if calling over and over again:

“Get up! Get up! You must get up!”

“I say, Ned!” lazily called Bob from his bed amid the blankets on the ground under a khaki tent, “what day is it?”

“What difference does that make?” asked Ned. “What time is it?”

“You ought to know without asking, when you hear that horn,” grunted Jerry.

“Horn? Bugle you mean,” came a voice from[109] the other corner of the tent, if a conical tent, the shape used in the army, can be said to have “corners.”

“Have it your own way,” assented Jerry. “I’m anxious to know what Bob meant by asking what day it was.”

“If it’s only Sunday we’ll get a chance to rest,” explained the stout Chunky, peering out from under his blankets. For he and the others had wrapped up well, as the night had been chilly.

“Chance to rest!” exclaimed Ned. “Say, we haven’t done anything yet.”

“Done anything!” challenged Bob. “Don’t you call that drill we went through yesterday anything?”

“Just a little setting up exercise, and some marching to get you to know your hay foot from your straw foot,” commented the tall lad. “If you’re going to kick about that the second day in camp what will happen in about a week?”

“Oh, I’m not kicking,” hastily said Bob. “In fact, I’m too lame and sore to kick. And my arm feels like a boil.”

“Anti-typhus germs,” explained Ned. “You’ll be a whole lot worse before you’re better. We have to have two more injections, I understand.”

The rousing notes of the bugle, “rousing” in a double sense, again sounded, and, not without considerable grumbling and growling, in which[110] even Jerry, by the look on his face at least, seemed to join, the boys got up and prepared for another day in camp—their second.

The young volunteers, with a lot of other recruits, had reached the camp ground the day before, but there was so much confusion, so many new arrivals, and such a general air of orderly disorder about the place, that the impressions Ned, Bob, and Jerry received were mixed.

Camp Dixton was situated in one of the Southern states, and was laid out on a big plain at the foot of some hills, which, as they rose farther to the west, became sizable mountains. The plain which had, until within a short time of the laying out of the cantonments, been several large farms, consisted of level ground, with a few places where there were low rounded hills and patches of wood. It was an ideal location for a camp, giving opportunity for drills and sham battles over as great a diversity of terrain as might be found in Flanders or France.

As to the camp itself, it was typical of many that have since sprung up all over the United States to care for the large army, or armies, that are constantly being raised. And the building of Camp Dixton, like the making of all the others, had been little short of marvelous. On what had been, a few months before, a series of farms, there was now a military city.

[111]

The place was laid out like a model city. The barracks for the soldiers were, of course, made of rough wood, and few of them were painted, but there was time enough for that. A great level, center space had been set aside as a parade ground, and in the midst of this was the division headquarters. North and south of the parade ground were the long rows of “streets” lined with the wooden buildings, some of which were sleeping quarters, some cook houses and others places where the officers lived.

There were long rows of warehouses, into which ran railroad sidings; there were an ice house, an ice plant, a big laundry, a theater, and many other buildings and establishments such as one would find in a city.

As for the military units themselves, there were infantry, cavalry, machine gun companies, artillery companies, a motor corp and even a small contingent of aeroplanes.

On their arrival the day before, Ned, Bob, and Jerry, with the other recruits, had been met at the railroad station by a number of officers, who looked very spick and span in their olive-drab uniforms, with their brown leather leggings polished until one could almost see his face in them.

In columns of four abreast, carrying their handbags and suitcases, the new soldiers were marched[112] up to camp, a most unmilitary looking lot, as the boys themselves admitted.

A few at a time, the lads were ushered into booths, where officers took their names, records, and other details, then they were given something to eat.

“For all the world like a sort of picnic in a new mining town,” as Ned wrote home.

Then had come a preliminary drill, and some setting-up exercises. The boys were so tired out from this, and from their journey, that no one thought of anything but bed when it was over.

“And now we’ve got to do it all over again,” murmured Bob, as he began to dress. “This is somewhat different from what we were used to at home. Home was never like this!”

“Quit your kicking!” exclaimed Jerry. “Aren’t you glad you’re in this, and are going to help lick the Huns?”

“Sure I am!” declared the stout lad.

“Then keep still about it!”

“Say, I’ve got a right to kick if I want to, as long as I get up when the bugle calls,” declared Bob. “It’s the constitutional right of a free-born American citizen to kick, and I’m doing it!”

“Showing you how much like the mule an otherwise perfectly good fellow can become,” murmured Ned, and then he had to duck to get out of the way of a shoe that Bob tossed at him.

[113]

“Come on, fellows! Hustle!” called a non-commissioned officer, thrusting his head in the doorway of the tent where the boys were dressing. “Roll call soon!”

“We’ll be there,” announced Ned. “I hope we get shifted to one of the barracks to-day,” he went on. “It’s a bit damp in this tent.”

“Yes, a wooden shack will be better,” agreed Jerry.

Most of the new arrivals were in the wooden buildings, but in the hurry and confusion of the day before, some had to be assigned temporarily to tents. New barracks were in the course of construction, however, to accommodate the constantly growing number of volunteers. Later the great camps would be filled with the men of the draft.

When Ned had finished his hasty dressing, he strolled over to look at the posted notice in the tent, which gave a list of the day’s duties and the hours for drills. The bulletin was headed “Service Roll Calls.”

The first thing in the order of the day is reveille, but this is preceded by what is known as “First call.” This is sounded at 5:45 in the morning, rather an early hour, as almost any one but a milkman will concede. But one gets used to it, as Bob said later.

“First call” is a series of stirring notes on the[114] bugle which has for its purpose the awakening of the buglers themselves, to get them out of their snug beds to give the reveille proper. March and reveille come ten minutes later, the buglers marching up and down the streets in front of the tents and barracks, and “blowing their heads off,” to quote Jerry Hopkins. This is calculated to awaken each and every rookie, but if it fails the various squad leaders see to it that no one is missed.

“Assembly,” is the call which comes at six o’clock, and then woe betide the recruit who is not dressed and in line, standing at attention. As can be seen, there is but five minutes allowed for dressing; that is, if a man does not awaken until the reveille sounds. If he opens his eyes at first call, and gets up then, he has fifteen minutes to primp, though this is generally saved for dress parade. Roll call follows the assembly.

On this morning, when it had been ascertained that all were “present or accounted for,” Ned, Bob, and Jerry, with their new comrades, were dismissed to wash for breakfast. With soap and towels there was a general rush for the wash room, and then followed a healthful splashing.

“It isn’t like our bathroom at home,” said Bob, as he polished his face, “but I suppose the results are the same.”

“Sure,” agreed Ned. “They have showers[115] here, and that’s more than they have in some camps, yet, I hear.”

“We’ll need a shower after drill,” declared Jerry. “It’s going to be hot and dry to-day.”

Breakfast was the next call, only it was not called that. It was down on the schedule as “mess,” and so every meal was designated though, of course, in their own minds, each recruit thought of the first meal as breakfast, the second as dinner, and the third as supper. But to the army cook each meal was a “mess.”

But before breakfast the boys had to make up their beds. They had been given a lesson in that the previous day. Soon after their arrival the recruits were divided into squads, and under the guidance of a squad leader they were taken to a big pile of straw and told to fill the heavy, white cotton bags that were to serve in the place of mattresses. There was a hole in the middle of the bag, and through this the straw was poked, and the whole made as smooth as possible on the bunks.

After their first night, Ned, Bob, and Jerry were transferred to a wooden barracks. When they carried the straw mattresses to this building, they found that each squad room contained about fifty bunks arranged around the walls, with two rows down the middle. On each bunk, besides the mattress, or “bedsack,” as it is officially called,[116] were a pillow and three blankets. These must be neatly arranged after the night’s sleep. Beds in a military camp are not made up until just before they are used, but during the day the blankets must be neatly folded, laid on the bunks and the pillow placed on top of the blankets.

There were no clothes closets, and the only place Ned, Bob and Jerry had to put their things was on a shelf back of each lad’s bunk, and on some nails, driven into the wall near by. On these were all the possessions they were allowed, and, as can be imagined, they were not many—or would not be, once the boys were in uniform.

As yet, none of the new recruits wore a uniform. All were dressed just as they had come from their homes, and there was the usual variety seen at any baseball game.

“Mess call!” sang out Jerry, as he and his chums heard the notes of the bugles again. This time the call seemed to the boys to be more cheerful.

“I hope they have something good for breakfast,” murmured Bob, and this time his chums did not laugh at him. They were as hungry as he was.