Biltmore Oswald Read online

departed, banished even from our dusky St. Helena.

  _July 9th._ Working on the theory of opposites, I was next placed as awaiter in the Chief Petty Officer's Mess over in the First Regiment. Iwasn't so good here, it seems. There was something wrong with mytechnique. The coal pile had ruined me for delicate work. Icontinually kept mistaking the plate in my hand for a shovel, amistake which led to disastrous results. I will say this for thechiefs, however--they were as clean-cut, hard-eating a body of men asI have ever met. It was a pleasure to feed them, particularly so inthe case of one chief, a venerable gentleman, who seemed both by hisbearing and the number of stripes on his sleeve to be the dean of themess. He ate quietly, composedly and to the point, and after I hadspilled a couple of plates of rations on several of the other chiefs'laps he suggested that I call it a day and be withdrawn in favor ofone whose services to his country were not so invaluable as mine.Appreciating his delicacy I withdrew, but only to be sent out onanother job that defies description. Even here I quickly demonstratedmy unfitness and have consequently been incorporated once more intothe body of my regiment.

  _July 10th._ I had the most terrible experience in mess to-day when aguy having eaten more rapidly than I attempted to take my ration. WhenI told him he shouldn't do it he merely laughed brutally and kicked mean awful whack on the shin. This injury, together with the sight ofwitnessing my food about to be crammed down his predatory maw,succeeded in bringing all my latent patriotism to the fore and I fellupon him with a desperation bred of hunger. We proceeded to mill it upin a rather futile, childish manner until the Master-at-arms suggestedin a certain way he has that we go away to somewhere else. Hereafterif any one asks if I did any actual fighting in this war I am going tosay, "Yes, I fought like hell many hard and long battles in camp formy ration," which will be true.

  "Say, buddy," said my opponent, after we had landed quite violently onthe exterior of the Mess Hall, "you didn't git no food at all, didyer?"

  "No," I replied bitterly; "at all is right."

  He looked at me for a moment in a strange, studying manner, then beganlaughing softly to himself.

  "I don't know what made me do it," he said more to himself than to me."I wasn't hungry no more. I didn't _really_ want it. I wonder whatmakes a guy brutal? Guess he sort of has a feelin' to experiment withhimself and other folks."

  "I wish you'd tried that experiment on some one else," I replied,thinking tenderly of my shin.

  "Sometimes I feel so doggon strong and mean," he continued, "I justcan't keep from doing things I don't naturally feel like doing. Iguess I'm sort of an animal."

  "Say," I asked him in surprise, "if you keep talking about yourselfthat way I won't be able to call you all the names I am carefullypreparing at this moment."

  He peered earnestly down on me for a space.

  "Does my face make you talk that way?" I asked, feeling dimly anduncomfortably that it did.

  "Yes," he replied, "it's your face, your foolish looking face. I can'thelp feeling sorry for it and your funny empty little belly."

  "You're breaking me down," I answered; "I can't stand kindness."

  "I ain't no bully," he said fiercely, as if he was about to strike me."I ain't no bully," he repeated, "I'll tell you that."

  "No, sir," I replied soothingly, keeping on the alert, "you ain't nobully."

  Here he took me by the arm and dragged me along with him.

  "Come on, buddy," he said, "I'm going to take you to the canteen andfeed you. I'm going to do it, I swear to God."

  So he fed me. Stacks and stacks of stuff he forced on me until theflesh rebelled, after which he put things in my pockets, repeatingevery little while, "I ain't no bully, I'll tell you that, I ain't nobully." He spent most of his money, I reckon, but I did not try tostop him. He wanted to do it and I guess it made him feel better.After the orgy I took him around and let him pat Mr. Fogerty. Heseemed to like this. Fogerty took it in good part.

  _July 11th._ There's something about Wednesday afternoons that doesn'tappeal to me. First they make you go away and dress yourself up niceand clean and then they look you over and make you feel nearly aschildish as you look. Then they put a gun into your hand that is muchtoo heavy for comfort and make you do all sorts of ridiculous thingswith this gun, after which you fall in with numerous thousands ofother men who have been subjected to the same treatment, and togetherwe all go trotting past any number of officers, who look you over withuncanny earnestness through eyes that seem to perceive the remotestdefect with fiendish accuracy. Then we all trot home again and call ita review.

  This is all very well for some people, but not for me. I'm a littletoo self-conscious. I have always the feeling that I am the review,that it has been staged particularly for my discomforture, and thatevery officer in camp is on the lookout for any slight irregularity inmy clothes or conduct. In this they have little difficulty. I assistthem greatly myself. To-day, for instance:

  Item one: Dropped my gun.

  Item two: Talked in ranks. I asked the guy next to me how he wouldlike to go to a place and he said that he'd see me there first.

  Item three: Failed to follow the guide.

  Item four: Didn't mark time correctly.

  Item five: Was in step once.

  Now all of these things are trifling in themselves, but taken enmass, as it were, it leads up to a sizable display; at least, so I wastold in words that denied any other interpretation by my P.O. andseveral pals of his. After the review our regimental commander linedus up and addressed us as follows:

  "About that review to-day," he began, "it was terrible" (long,dramatic pause). "It was probably the worst review I have ever seen(several P.O.'s glanced at me reproachfully), not only that," hecontinued, "but it was the worst review that anybody has ever seen.Anybody! (shouted) without exception! (shouted) awful review! (pause)Terrible!"

  We steadied in the ranks and waited for our doom.

  "It will never be so again," he continued, "I'll see to that. I'lldrill ye myself. If you have to get up at four o'clock in the morningto drill in order to meet your classes, I'll see that ye do it.Dropping guns! (pause). Talking in ranks! (pause). Out-o-step(terrible pause). Marking time wrong. Everything wrong! Companycommanders, take 'em away."

  We were took.

  "All of those things," said my P.O. in a trembling voice, "you did.All of 'em. Now the old man's sore on us and he's going to give ushell, and I'm going to do the same by you."

  "Shoot, dearie," says I, with the desperate indifference of a man whohas nothing left to lose, "I wouldn't feel natural if you didn't."

  And in my hammock that night I thought of another thing I might havesaid if it had occurred to me in time. I might have said, "Hell is theonly thing you know how to give and you're generous with that becauseit's free."

  But I guess after all it's just as well I didn't.

  _August 1st._ Mr. Fogerty has returned aboard. My worst fears arerealized. For a long time he has been irritable and uncommunicativewith me and has indulged in sly, furtive little tricks unbecoming to adog of the service. I have suspected that he was concealing a loveaffair from me. This it appears he has been doing and his guilt isheavy upon him. I realize now for the first time and not without asharp maternal pang that he has reached an age at which he must makedecisions for himself. I can no longer follow him out into the worldupon his nocturnal exploits. His entire confidence is not mine. I mustbe content to share a part of his heart instead of the whole of it.Like father like son, I suppose. However, I see no reason for him toput on such airs. On his return from City Island this time he hadsomehow contrived to get himself completely shaved up to theshoulders. The result is startling. Fogerty looks extremelyaristocratic but a trifle foppish. However, he seems to considerhimself the only real four-footed dog in camp. This is a trifle boringfrom a dog who has never hesitated to steal from the galley anythingthat wasn't a permanent fixture. I can't help but feel sorry for himthough when I see that far-away look in his eyes. Sad days I fear arein store for him. A
h, well, we're only young once.

  _August 3d._ "Well, now, son," he was saying, "mind me when I tell yerthat I'm not claiming as to ever have seen a mermaid, but what I amsaying is this and that is if anybody has ever seen one of them thingsI'm that man. I'm not making no false claims, however, nonewhatsoever."

  I carefully placed my shovel against the wheelbarrow and seatingmyself upon a stump prepared to listen to my companion. He was a chiefof many cruises and for some unaccountable reason had fixed on me asbeing a suitable