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sound all over, yet, looking at you, I fail to seehow it is possible."
I wondered vaguely if he was paid by the rejection. Then for noparticular reason he suddenly tired of me and left me with all mygolden youth and glory standing unnoticed in a corner. From here Iobserved an applicant being put through his ear test. This game isplayed as follows: a hospital apprentice thrusts one finger into thevictim's ear while the doctor hurries down to the end of the room andwhispers tragically words that the applicant must repeat. It's a goodgame, but this fellow I was watching evidently didn't know the rulesand he was taking no chances.
"Now repeat what I say," said the doctor.
"'Now repeat what I say,'" quoted the recruit.
"No, no, not now," cried the doctor. "Wait till I whisper."
"'No, no, not now. Wait till I whisper,'" answered the recruit,faithfully accurate.
"Wait till I whisper, you blockhead," shouted the doctor.
"'Wait till I whisper, you blockhead,'" shouted the recruit with equalheat.
"Oh, God!" cried the doctor despairingly.
"'Oh, God!'" repeated the recruit in a mournful voice.
This little drama of cross purposes might have continued indefinitelyhad not the hospital apprentice begun to punch the guy in the ribs,shouting as he did so:
"Wait a minute, can't you?"
At which the recruit, a great hulk of a fellow, delivered the hospitalapprentice a resounding blow in the stomach and turned indignantly tothe doctor.
"That man's interfering," he said in an injured voice. "Now that ain'tfair, is it, doc?"
"You pass," said the doctor briefly, producing his handkerchief andmopping his brow.
"Well, what are you standing around for?" he said a moment later,spying me in my corner.
"Oh, doctor," I cried, delighted, "I thought you had forgotten me."
"No," said the doctor, "I'll never forget you. You pass. Take yourpapers and clear out."
I can now feel with a certain degree of security that I am in theNavy.
_Feb. 26th._ I broke the news to mother to-day and she took it like alittle gentleman, only crying on twelve different occasions. I hadestimated it much higher than that.
After dinner she read me a list of the things I was to take with me tocamp, among which were several sorts of life preservers, an electricbed warmer and a pair of dancing pumps.
"Why not include spurs?" I asked, referring to the pumps. "I'd lookvery crisp in spurs, and they would help me in climbing the rigging."
"But some officer might ask you to a dance," protested mother.
"Mother," I replied firmly, "I have decided to decline all socialengagements during my first few weeks in camp. You can send the pumpswhen I write for them."
A card came to-day ordering me to report on March 1st. Consequently Iam not quite myself.
_Feb. 27th._ Mother hurried into my room this morning and started topack my trunk. She had gotten five sweaters, three helmets and twodozen pairs of socks into it before I could stop her. When I explainedto her that I wasn't going to take a trunk she almost broke down.
"But at least," she said, brightening up, "I can go along with you andsee that you are nice and comfortable in your room."
"You seem to think that I am going to some swell boarding school,mother," I replied from the bed. "You see, we don't have rooms toourselves. I understand that we sleep in bays."
"Don't jest," cried mother. "It's too horrible!"
Then I explained to her that a bay was a compartment of a barracks inwhich eight human beings and one petty officer, not quite so human,were supposed to dwell in intimacy and, as far as possible, concord.
This distressed poor mother dreadfully. "But what are you going totake?" she cried.
"I'm going to take a nap," said I, turning over on my pillow. "It willbe the last one in a bed for a long, long time."
At this mother stuffed a pair of socks in her mouth and left the roomhastily.
Polly came in to-night and I kissed her on and off throughout theevening on the strength of my departure. This infuriated father, butmother thought it was very pretty. However, before going to bed hegave me a handsome wrist watch, and grandfather, pointing to his gameleg, said:
"Remember the Mexican War, my boy. I fought and bled honorably in thatwar, by gad, sir!"
I know for a fact that the dear old gentleman has never been furtherwest than the Mississippi River.
_Feb. 28th (on the train)._ I have just gone through my suit-case andtaken out some of mother's last little gifts such as toilet water, apadded coat hanger, one hot water bottle, some cough syrup, two pairsof ear-bobs, a paper vest and a blue pokerdotted silk muffler. She putthem in when I wasn't looking. I have hidden them under the seat. Maythe Lord forgive me for a faithless son.
The departure was moist, but I managed to swim through. I am tooexcited to read the paper and too rattle-brained to think except interrified snatches. I wonder if I look different. People seem to beregarding me sympathetically. I recognize two faces on this train. Onebelongs to Tony, the iceman on our block; the other belongs to onenamed Tim, a barkeep, if I recall rightly, in a hotel I havefrequently graced with my presence. I hope their past friendship wasnot due to professional reasons. It would be nice to talk over oldtimes with them in camp, for I have frequently met the one in themorning after coming home from the other.
"THE DEPARTURE WAS MOIST"]
_March 1st._ Subjected myself to the intimate scrutiny of anotherdoctor this morning. I used my very best Turkish bath manners. Theyfailed to impress him. Hospital apprentice treated me to a shot ofPelham "hop." It is taken in the customary manner, through thearm--very stimulating. A large sailor held me by the hand for fullyfifteen minutes. Very embarrassing! He made pictures of my fingers andcompletely demolished my manicure. From there I passed on to anotherroom. Here a number of men threw clothes at me from all directions.The man with the shoes was a splendid shot. I am now a sailor--atleast, superficially. My trousers were built for Charlie Chaplin. Ifeel like a masquerade.
"HOSPITAL APPRENTICE TREATED ME TO A SHOT OF PELHAM'HOP'"]
"I FEEL LIKE A MASQUERADE"]
A gang of recruits shouted "twenty-one days" at me as I was being ledto Mess Hall No. 1. The poor simps had just come in the day before andhad not even washed their leggings yet. I shall shout at otherrecruits to-morrow, though, the same thing that they shouted at meto-day.
Our P.O. is a very terrifying character. He is a stern but just man, Itake it.
He can tie knots and box the compass and say "pipe down" andeverything. Gee, it must be nice to be a real sailor!
"THIS, I THOUGHT, WAS ADDING INSULT TO INJURY"]
_March 2d._ Fell out of my hammock last night and momentarilyinterrupted the snoring contest holding sway. I was told to "pipedown" in Irish, Yiddish, Third Avenue and Bronx. This, I thought, wasadding insult to injury, but could not make any one take the same viewof it. I hope the thing does not become a habit with me. I form habitsso readily. In connection with snoring I have written the followingsong which I am going to send home to Polly. I wrote it in theY.M.C.A. Hut this afternoon while crouching between the feet of twoembattled checker players. I'm going to call it "The Rhyme of theSnoring Sailor." It goes like this:
I
The mother thinks of her sailor son As clutched in the arms of war, But mother should listen, as I have done, To this same little, innocent sailor son Sprawl in his hammock and snore.
Oh, the sailor man is a rugged man, The master of wind and wave, And poets sing till the tea-rooms ring Of his picturesque, deep sea grave, And they likewise write of the "Storm at Night" When the numerous north winds roar, But more profound is the dismal sound Of a sea-going sailor's snore.
II
Oh, mothers knit for their sailor sons Socks for their nautical toes, But mothers should list to the frightful noise Made by their innocent sailor boys By the wind they blow through their nose.
Oh, life at s
ea is wild and free And greatly to be admired, But I would sleep both sound and deep At night when I'm feeling tired.
So here we go with a yo! ho! ho! While the waves and the tempests soar, An artist can paint a shrew as a saint, But not camouflage on a snore.
III
Oh, mothers, write to your sons at sea; Write to them, I implore, A letter as earnest as it can be, Containing a delicate, motherly plea, A plea for them not to snore.
Oh, I take much pride in my trousers wide, The ladies all think them sweet, And I must admit that I love to sit In a chair and relieve my feet. Avast! Belay! and we're bound away With our hearts
I wondered vaguely if he was paid by the rejection. Then for noparticular reason he suddenly tired of me and left me with all mygolden youth and glory standing unnoticed in a corner. From here Iobserved an applicant being put through his ear test. This game isplayed as follows: a hospital apprentice thrusts one finger into thevictim's ear while the doctor hurries down to the end of the room andwhispers tragically words that the applicant must repeat. It's a goodgame, but this fellow I was watching evidently didn't know the rulesand he was taking no chances.
"Now repeat what I say," said the doctor.
"'Now repeat what I say,'" quoted the recruit.
"No, no, not now," cried the doctor. "Wait till I whisper."
"'No, no, not now. Wait till I whisper,'" answered the recruit,faithfully accurate.
"Wait till I whisper, you blockhead," shouted the doctor.
"'Wait till I whisper, you blockhead,'" shouted the recruit with equalheat.
"Oh, God!" cried the doctor despairingly.
"'Oh, God!'" repeated the recruit in a mournful voice.
This little drama of cross purposes might have continued indefinitelyhad not the hospital apprentice begun to punch the guy in the ribs,shouting as he did so:
"Wait a minute, can't you?"
At which the recruit, a great hulk of a fellow, delivered the hospitalapprentice a resounding blow in the stomach and turned indignantly tothe doctor.
"That man's interfering," he said in an injured voice. "Now that ain'tfair, is it, doc?"
"You pass," said the doctor briefly, producing his handkerchief andmopping his brow.
"Well, what are you standing around for?" he said a moment later,spying me in my corner.
"Oh, doctor," I cried, delighted, "I thought you had forgotten me."
"No," said the doctor, "I'll never forget you. You pass. Take yourpapers and clear out."
I can now feel with a certain degree of security that I am in theNavy.
_Feb. 26th._ I broke the news to mother to-day and she took it like alittle gentleman, only crying on twelve different occasions. I hadestimated it much higher than that.
After dinner she read me a list of the things I was to take with me tocamp, among which were several sorts of life preservers, an electricbed warmer and a pair of dancing pumps.
"Why not include spurs?" I asked, referring to the pumps. "I'd lookvery crisp in spurs, and they would help me in climbing the rigging."
"But some officer might ask you to a dance," protested mother.
"Mother," I replied firmly, "I have decided to decline all socialengagements during my first few weeks in camp. You can send the pumpswhen I write for them."
A card came to-day ordering me to report on March 1st. Consequently Iam not quite myself.
_Feb. 27th._ Mother hurried into my room this morning and started topack my trunk. She had gotten five sweaters, three helmets and twodozen pairs of socks into it before I could stop her. When I explainedto her that I wasn't going to take a trunk she almost broke down.
"But at least," she said, brightening up, "I can go along with you andsee that you are nice and comfortable in your room."
"You seem to think that I am going to some swell boarding school,mother," I replied from the bed. "You see, we don't have rooms toourselves. I understand that we sleep in bays."
"Don't jest," cried mother. "It's too horrible!"
Then I explained to her that a bay was a compartment of a barracks inwhich eight human beings and one petty officer, not quite so human,were supposed to dwell in intimacy and, as far as possible, concord.
This distressed poor mother dreadfully. "But what are you going totake?" she cried.
"I'm going to take a nap," said I, turning over on my pillow. "It willbe the last one in a bed for a long, long time."
At this mother stuffed a pair of socks in her mouth and left the roomhastily.
Polly came in to-night and I kissed her on and off throughout theevening on the strength of my departure. This infuriated father, butmother thought it was very pretty. However, before going to bed hegave me a handsome wrist watch, and grandfather, pointing to his gameleg, said:
"Remember the Mexican War, my boy. I fought and bled honorably in thatwar, by gad, sir!"
I know for a fact that the dear old gentleman has never been furtherwest than the Mississippi River.
_Feb. 28th (on the train)._ I have just gone through my suit-case andtaken out some of mother's last little gifts such as toilet water, apadded coat hanger, one hot water bottle, some cough syrup, two pairsof ear-bobs, a paper vest and a blue pokerdotted silk muffler. She putthem in when I wasn't looking. I have hidden them under the seat. Maythe Lord forgive me for a faithless son.
The departure was moist, but I managed to swim through. I am tooexcited to read the paper and too rattle-brained to think except interrified snatches. I wonder if I look different. People seem to beregarding me sympathetically. I recognize two faces on this train. Onebelongs to Tony, the iceman on our block; the other belongs to onenamed Tim, a barkeep, if I recall rightly, in a hotel I havefrequently graced with my presence. I hope their past friendship wasnot due to professional reasons. It would be nice to talk over oldtimes with them in camp, for I have frequently met the one in themorning after coming home from the other.
"THE DEPARTURE WAS MOIST"]
_March 1st._ Subjected myself to the intimate scrutiny of anotherdoctor this morning. I used my very best Turkish bath manners. Theyfailed to impress him. Hospital apprentice treated me to a shot ofPelham "hop." It is taken in the customary manner, through thearm--very stimulating. A large sailor held me by the hand for fullyfifteen minutes. Very embarrassing! He made pictures of my fingers andcompletely demolished my manicure. From there I passed on to anotherroom. Here a number of men threw clothes at me from all directions.The man with the shoes was a splendid shot. I am now a sailor--atleast, superficially. My trousers were built for Charlie Chaplin. Ifeel like a masquerade.
"HOSPITAL APPRENTICE TREATED ME TO A SHOT OF PELHAM'HOP'"]
"I FEEL LIKE A MASQUERADE"]
A gang of recruits shouted "twenty-one days" at me as I was being ledto Mess Hall No. 1. The poor simps had just come in the day before andhad not even washed their leggings yet. I shall shout at otherrecruits to-morrow, though, the same thing that they shouted at meto-day.
Our P.O. is a very terrifying character. He is a stern but just man, Itake it.
He can tie knots and box the compass and say "pipe down" andeverything. Gee, it must be nice to be a real sailor!
"THIS, I THOUGHT, WAS ADDING INSULT TO INJURY"]
_March 2d._ Fell out of my hammock last night and momentarilyinterrupted the snoring contest holding sway. I was told to "pipedown" in Irish, Yiddish, Third Avenue and Bronx. This, I thought, wasadding insult to injury, but could not make any one take the same viewof it. I hope the thing does not become a habit with me. I form habitsso readily. In connection with snoring I have written the followingsong which I am going to send home to Polly. I wrote it in theY.M.C.A. Hut this afternoon while crouching between the feet of twoembattled checker players. I'm going to call it "The Rhyme of theSnoring Sailor." It goes like this:
I
The mother thinks of her sailor son As clutched in the arms of war, But mother should listen, as I have done, To this same little, innocent sailor son Sprawl in his hammock and snore.
Oh, the sailor man is a rugged man, The master of wind and wave, And poets sing till the tea-rooms ring Of his picturesque, deep sea grave, And they likewise write of the "Storm at Night" When the numerous north winds roar, But more profound is the dismal sound Of a sea-going sailor's snore.
II
Oh, mothers knit for their sailor sons Socks for their nautical toes, But mothers should list to the frightful noise Made by their innocent sailor boys By the wind they blow through their nose.
Oh, life at s
ea is wild and free And greatly to be admired, But I would sleep both sound and deep At night when I'm feeling tired.
So here we go with a yo! ho! ho! While the waves and the tempests soar, An artist can paint a shrew as a saint, But not camouflage on a snore.
III
Oh, mothers, write to your sons at sea; Write to them, I implore, A letter as earnest as it can be, Containing a delicate, motherly plea, A plea for them not to snore.
Oh, I take much pride in my trousers wide, The ladies all think them sweet, And I must admit that I love to sit In a chair and relieve my feet. Avast! Belay! and we're bound away With our hearts
Turnabout