Army Boys in France Part 8

"How proud your father would be if he could see you now," she said with a slight tremble in her voice, which she strove to conceal.

"Perhaps he does," said Frank reverently. "If he were here I know that he would approve of what I'm doing."

The days were all too short now for the work that was crowded into them. Government preparations were going on with feverish rapidity.

Events followed one another as though on wings.

The order had gone forth for the draft and another order had decreed that the regiments of the national guard should be enrolled in and form part of the regular army.

This latter order was the subject of some regret with the members of the old Thirty-seventh, whose pride in their regiment was intense and who had hoped to have it remain intact under its old officers for the period of the war.

"We'll lose our ident.i.ty now," mourned Billy Waldon. "We'll just be part of some big rainbow division, made up of fellows from all over the United States. For my part, I think it's a mistake. I think the regiment would fight better under its own colors and with its old traditions to inspire it."

"We mustn't criticize the Government, Billy," said Frank. "My theory all through this war is going to be that Uncle Sam is right. He's got good reasons for everything he does."

"'Them's my sentiments'," put in Bart. "Whether we have the regimental colors or not, we'll all be fighting under the one flag, Old Glory, and it's only the Stars and Stripes that counts, after all. To me there's an inspiration in the thought of the whole United States, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, fighting as a unit."

"Well, perhaps you're right," said Billy, somewhat mollified. "At any rate, nothing can take away from us the fact that we're volunteers."

A few days pa.s.sed, then orders came that the regiment should be a.s.sembled at the armory to be kept there day and night until they should be sent to Camp Boone--as we shall call the cantonment that had been prepared for them.

To Frank's mother the order sounded like the knell of doom. It was the final step of separation. The word had pa.s.sed that the boys were to bring all their belongings to the armory as no leave would be given under any circ.u.mstances.

"Good-bye, dear boy!" she began bravely, and then all her courage gave way to a storm of tears.

Frank's own eyes were wet as he folded her closely to him and comforted her as best he could, though feeling very much in need of comfort himself.

"Bear up, Mother," he urged. "It will only be a little while before I come marching home again, and I'll be thinking of you all the time and write to you whenever I get a chance."

He forced himself to go at last with many a backward look and wave of his hand at the figure in the doorway. His heart was heavy as he reflected that in the chances of war he might never see her again.

The next few days were full of excitement, allowing him little time to brood. Both he and Bart took to a soldier's life as a duck takes to water. The martial spirit was there together with the quick intelligence that enables America to turn out finished soldiers more quickly than any other country in the world.

They had an advantage too in being sandwiched in, as it were, with the men who had just come back from the Mexican border and had had such recent experience in practical outdoor preparation for fighting.

Billy Waldon, especially, was a mine of information and suggestion, and as they threw themselves into the work with all their heart and soul it was not long before they could feel that they were graduating from the "rookie" cla.s.s and becoming regular soldiers.

Their commanding officers looked on them with approval and secretly wished that all of their recruits might be of the same high-cla.s.s type.

"You're going along like a house afire, fellows," said Billy, after drill had ended one morning. "The manual of arms is just pie for you.

Kitchener used to think that it took a year to turn out a soldier.

I'll bet if he'd been on this side of the water he'd have felt differently.

"I'm glad you think so," said Frank. "But after all, we're just going through the motions now. The test will come a little later on."

"I'd bet on you now or any time," answered Billy.

The looked-for orders came at last from Was.h.i.+ngton, and there was a great stir and bustle at the armory. Then the next morning the great doors swung open and the regiment marched forth, headed by its band.

Through the old familiar streets it marched, amid the cheers and tears of those who packed the sidewalks, past the commercial house of Moore and Thomas, where old Peterson waved his hand tremulously and Reddy, with Oliver Twist perched upon his shoulder, shouted himself hoa.r.s.e and nearly fell out of the window in his enthusiasm, down to the railroad station where the long train waited for them.

There they broke ranks while friends and relatives, fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, sweethearts and wives, crowded around them, pressing last gifts into their hands, caressing them, enthusing them, crying over them, until the warning whistle blew and they were forced to tear themselves away.

Those few moments had been precious ones to Frank and his mother, for in them they had compressed a world of affection, that fell from their lips and looked from their eyes.

"I won't say good-bye, little Mother," said Frank. "It's just _au revoir_."

"Yes, dear," agreed his mother tremulously. "_Au revoir_. What is that?" she interrupted herself with a start. "Ah, it is the whistle.

My boy, my boy, I cannot let you go. Yes, I will be brave," Frank turned his head aside to hide his own emotion as his mother pathetically tried to smile. "There, go, dear, go,--before my resolution breaks entirely. _Au revoir_--my boy--my boy--"

With a little strangled sound in his throat Frank tore himself away and, without trusting himself to look back, climbed into the car with his jostling comrades. Then he leaned far out of the window, caught his mother to him and kissed her.

The whistle shrieked again, and amid a storm of cheers and waving of handkerchiefs the train moved out. The old Thirty-seventh had started on the road to victory!

CHAPTER IX

A NEW LIFE

For some time after the train had started the spirits of the men were subdued. All were thinking of the dear ones they had left behind and might never see again. They were thinking too of the new life--or was it, perhaps, death?--that they were facing.

But it was not in the nature of things that this feeling should long persist amid such a buoyant, boisterous gathering of young fellows and before long the cars of the train were resounding with jests and laughter.

"How far off is this Camp Boone?" asked Bart, who had secured a seat at Frank's side.

"I haven't exactly figured it out," replied the latter, as he stretched his long legs comfortably, "but in the rough, it's about three hundred miles. The way the tracks are crowded now, I don't think we'll get there 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 I guess there won't be much kick coming."

"There will be no discount on the grub," put in Billy Waldon. "Uncle Sam'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 morning when the train stopped at the little town from which Camp Boone was about three miles distant.

It was a glorious morning for a hike and after the commissary department had done its duty and each man had tucked away a good breakfast under his belt the regiment fell into line and covered the intervening miles in quick time. All were filled with eagerness to see the 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 within view of the camp. A small army of workmen was swarming all over the place and the sounds of hammers and groaning of derricks and hum of machinery filled the air with a deafening din.

"Didn't I tell you it would be only half finished?" said Bart. "I hope they've got roofs on the barracks. They say they have bad weather around 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 saw the apparently endless row of buildings prepared for their reception.

"And that's what this is going to be--a city in itself. The wonder to me 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 in Billy Waldon. "Before a month is over there'll be more fellows living here than people in the whole city of Camport. That gives you some idea of the work the Government has to do. But Uncle Sam is some worker when he once takes his coat off. Even the Kaiser will admit that before he gets through with him."