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his reply, but he calledme back and handed me my paper, on which he had written "Impossible"and underlined it.
The next booth I visited seemed to be a little more hospitable, so Isat down with the rest of the fellows and prepared to talk of theevents of the past twenty-one days.
"How many Articles are there?" suddenly asked a C.P.O. who hithertohad escaped my attention.
"Twelve," I replied promptly, thinking I might just as well play thegame, too.
"What are they based on?" he almost hissed, but not quite.
"The Constitution of these United States," I cried in a loud,public-spirited voice, at which the C.P.O. choked and turneddangerously red. It seems that not only was I not quite right, butthat I couldn't have been more wrong.
"Go," he gasped, "before I do you some injury." A very peculiar man, Ithought, but, nevertheless, his heart seemed so set on my going that Ithought it would be best for us to part.
"I am sure I do not wish to force myself upon you," I said icily as Ileft. The poor man appeared to be on the verge of having a fit.
"Do you want to tie some knots?" asked a kind-voiced P.O. at the nextbooth.
"Crazy about it," says I, easy like.
"Then tie some," says he. So I tied a very pretty little knot I hadlearned at the kindergarten some years ago and showed it to him.
"What's that?" says he.
"That," replies I coyly. "Why, that is simply a True Lover's knot. Doyou like it?"
"Orderly," he screamed. "Orderly, remove this." And hands were laidupon me and I was hurled into the arms of a small, but ever sosea-going appearing chap, who was engaged in balancing his hat on thebridge of his nose and wig-wagging at the same time. After beating meover the head several times with the flags, he said I could play withhim, and he began to send me messages with lightning-like rapidity."What is it?" he asked.
"Really," I replied, "I lost interest in your message before youfinished."
After this my paper looked like a million dollars with the one knockedoff.
"What's a hackamatack?" asked the next guy. Thinking he was eitherkidding me or given to using baby talk, I replied:
"Why, it's a mixture between a thingamabob and a nibleck."
His treatment of me after this answer so unnerved me that I dropped mygun at the next booth and became completely demoralized. The greatestdisappointment awaited me at "Monkey Drill," or setting up exercises,however. I thought I was going to kill this. I felt sure I was goingto outstrip all competitors. But in the middle of it all the examineryelled out in one of those sarcastic voices that all rookies learn tofear: "Are you trying to flirt with me or do you think you're abloomin' angel?"
This so sickened me at heart that I left the place without furtherado, whatever that might be. Pink teas in the Navy are not unmixedvirtues.
_March 27th._ My birthday, and, oh, how I do miss my cake. It's thefirst birthday I ever had without a cake except two and then I had abottle. Oh, how well I remember my last party (birthday party)!
There was father and the cake all lit up in the center of the table; Imean the cake, not father, of course. And there was Gladys (I alwayscalled her "Glad"). She'd been coming to my birthday parties for yearsand years. She always came first and left last and ate the most andgot the sickest of all the girls I knew. It was appalling how thatgirl could eat.
But, as I was saying, there was father and the cake, and there wasmother and "Glad" and all the little candles were twinkling, lightingup my presents clustered around, among them being half a dozen maroonsilk socks, a box of striped neck ties, all perfect joys; spats, alounging gown, ever so many gloves and the snappiest little cane inall the world. And what have I around me now? A swab on one side, abucket on the other, a broom draped over my shoulder, C.P.O.'s infront of me, P.O.'s behind me and work all around me--oh, what ahelluvabirthday! I told my company commander last night that the nextday was going to be my birthday, hoping he would do the handsome thingand let me sleep a little later in the morning, but did he? No, theBrute, he said I should get up earlier so as to enjoy it longer. Asfar as I can find out, the Camp remains totally unmoved by the factthat I am one year older to-day--and what a hubbub they used to raiseat home. I think the very least they could do up here would be to askme to eat with the officers.
_March 28th._ These new barracks over in the main camp are too large;not nearly so nice as our cosey little bays. I'm really homesick forProbation and the sound of our old company commander's dulcet voice. Imet Eli on the street to-day and I almost broke down on his neck andcried. He was the first familiar thing I had seen since I came over tothe main camp.
_March 29th._ This place is just like the Probation Camp, only moreso. Life is one continual lecture trimmed with drills and hikes--oh,when will I ever be an Ensign, with a cute little Submarine Chaser allmy own?
_April 6th._ The events of the past few days have so unnerved me thatI have fallen behind in my diary. I must try to catch up, for whatwould posterity do should the record of my inspiring career in theservice not be faithfully recorded for them to read with reverence andamazement in days to come?
One of the unfortunate events arose from scraping a too intimateacquaintance with that horrid old push ball. How did it ever get intocamp anyway, and who ever heard of a ball being so large? It doesn'tseem somehow right to me--out of taste, if you get what I mean. Thereis a certain lack of restraint and conservatism about it which allgames played among gentlemen most positively should possess. But thechap who pushed that great big beast of a push ball violently upon myunsuspecting nose was certainly no gentleman. Golly, what a resoundingwhack! This fellow (I suspect him of being a German spy, basing mysuspicions upon his seeming disposition for atrocities) was standingby, looking morosely at this small size planet when I blows gently upand says playfully in my most engaging voice:
"I say, old dear, you push it to me and I'll push it toyou--softly, though, chappy, softly." And with that he flunghimself upon the ball and hurled it full upon my nose, completelydemolishing it. Now I have always been a little partial to my nose. Myeyes, I'll admit, are not quite as soulful as those liquid orbs ofFrancis X. Bushman's, but my nose has been frequently admired andenvied in the best drawing rooms in New York. But it won't be enviedany more, I fear--pitied rather.
Of course I played the game no more. I was nauseated by pain and thesight of blood. My would-be assassin was actually forced to sit down,he was so weak from brutal laughter. I wonder if I can ever be anEnsign with a nose like this?
"OF COURSE I PLAYED THE GAME NO MORE"]
_April 7th._ On the way back from a little outing the other day mycompanion, Tim, who in civil life had been a barkeeper and a good oneat that, ingratiated himself in the good graces of a passingautomobile party and we consequently were asked in. There were twogirls, sisters, I fancy, and a father and mother aboard.
"And where do you come from, young gentlemen?" asked the old man.
"Me pal comes from San Diego," pipes up my unscrupulous friend, "andmy home town is San Francisco."
I knew for a fact that he had never been farther from home than thePolo Grounds, and as for me I had only the sketchiest idea of where myhome town was supposed to be.
"Ah, Westerners!" exclaimed the old lady. "I come from the Westmyself. My family goes back there every year."
"Yes," chimed in the girls, "we just love San Diego!"
"In what section of the town did you live?" asked the gentleman, andmy friend whom I was inwardly cursing, seeing my perplexity, quicklyput in for me:
"Oh, you would never know it, sir," and then lowering his voice in aconfidential way, he added, "he kept a barroom in the Mexican part ofthe town."
"A barroom!" exclaimed the old lady. "Fancy that!" She looked at mewith great, innocent interest.
"Yes," continued this lost soul, "my father, who is a State senator,sent him to boarding school and tried to do everything for him, but hedrifted back into the old life just as soon as he could. It gets a holdon them, you know."
&nb
sp; "Yes, I know," said the old lady, sadly, "my cook had a son that wentthe same way."
"He isn't really vicious, though," added my false friend with feignedloyalty--"merely reckless."
"Well, my poor boy," put in the old gentleman with cheeryconsideration, "I am sure you must find that navy life does you aworld of good--regular hours, temperate living and all that."
"Right you are, sport," says I bitterly, assuming my enforced role, "Ihaven't slit a Greaser's throat since I enlisted."
"We must all make sacrifices these days," sighed the old lady.
"And perhaps
The next booth I visited seemed to be a little more hospitable, so Isat down with the rest of the fellows and prepared to talk of theevents of the past twenty-one days.
"How many Articles are there?" suddenly asked a C.P.O. who hithertohad escaped my attention.
"Twelve," I replied promptly, thinking I might just as well play thegame, too.
"What are they based on?" he almost hissed, but not quite.
"The Constitution of these United States," I cried in a loud,public-spirited voice, at which the C.P.O. choked and turneddangerously red. It seems that not only was I not quite right, butthat I couldn't have been more wrong.
"Go," he gasped, "before I do you some injury." A very peculiar man, Ithought, but, nevertheless, his heart seemed so set on my going that Ithought it would be best for us to part.
"I am sure I do not wish to force myself upon you," I said icily as Ileft. The poor man appeared to be on the verge of having a fit.
"Do you want to tie some knots?" asked a kind-voiced P.O. at the nextbooth.
"Crazy about it," says I, easy like.
"Then tie some," says he. So I tied a very pretty little knot I hadlearned at the kindergarten some years ago and showed it to him.
"What's that?" says he.
"That," replies I coyly. "Why, that is simply a True Lover's knot. Doyou like it?"
"Orderly," he screamed. "Orderly, remove this." And hands were laidupon me and I was hurled into the arms of a small, but ever sosea-going appearing chap, who was engaged in balancing his hat on thebridge of his nose and wig-wagging at the same time. After beating meover the head several times with the flags, he said I could play withhim, and he began to send me messages with lightning-like rapidity."What is it?" he asked.
"Really," I replied, "I lost interest in your message before youfinished."
After this my paper looked like a million dollars with the one knockedoff.
"What's a hackamatack?" asked the next guy. Thinking he was eitherkidding me or given to using baby talk, I replied:
"Why, it's a mixture between a thingamabob and a nibleck."
His treatment of me after this answer so unnerved me that I dropped mygun at the next booth and became completely demoralized. The greatestdisappointment awaited me at "Monkey Drill," or setting up exercises,however. I thought I was going to kill this. I felt sure I was goingto outstrip all competitors. But in the middle of it all the examineryelled out in one of those sarcastic voices that all rookies learn tofear: "Are you trying to flirt with me or do you think you're abloomin' angel?"
This so sickened me at heart that I left the place without furtherado, whatever that might be. Pink teas in the Navy are not unmixedvirtues.
_March 27th._ My birthday, and, oh, how I do miss my cake. It's thefirst birthday I ever had without a cake except two and then I had abottle. Oh, how well I remember my last party (birthday party)!
There was father and the cake all lit up in the center of the table; Imean the cake, not father, of course. And there was Gladys (I alwayscalled her "Glad"). She'd been coming to my birthday parties for yearsand years. She always came first and left last and ate the most andgot the sickest of all the girls I knew. It was appalling how thatgirl could eat.
But, as I was saying, there was father and the cake, and there wasmother and "Glad" and all the little candles were twinkling, lightingup my presents clustered around, among them being half a dozen maroonsilk socks, a box of striped neck ties, all perfect joys; spats, alounging gown, ever so many gloves and the snappiest little cane inall the world. And what have I around me now? A swab on one side, abucket on the other, a broom draped over my shoulder, C.P.O.'s infront of me, P.O.'s behind me and work all around me--oh, what ahelluvabirthday! I told my company commander last night that the nextday was going to be my birthday, hoping he would do the handsome thingand let me sleep a little later in the morning, but did he? No, theBrute, he said I should get up earlier so as to enjoy it longer. Asfar as I can find out, the Camp remains totally unmoved by the factthat I am one year older to-day--and what a hubbub they used to raiseat home. I think the very least they could do up here would be to askme to eat with the officers.
_March 28th._ These new barracks over in the main camp are too large;not nearly so nice as our cosey little bays. I'm really homesick forProbation and the sound of our old company commander's dulcet voice. Imet Eli on the street to-day and I almost broke down on his neck andcried. He was the first familiar thing I had seen since I came over tothe main camp.
_March 29th._ This place is just like the Probation Camp, only moreso. Life is one continual lecture trimmed with drills and hikes--oh,when will I ever be an Ensign, with a cute little Submarine Chaser allmy own?
_April 6th._ The events of the past few days have so unnerved me thatI have fallen behind in my diary. I must try to catch up, for whatwould posterity do should the record of my inspiring career in theservice not be faithfully recorded for them to read with reverence andamazement in days to come?
One of the unfortunate events arose from scraping a too intimateacquaintance with that horrid old push ball. How did it ever get intocamp anyway, and who ever heard of a ball being so large? It doesn'tseem somehow right to me--out of taste, if you get what I mean. Thereis a certain lack of restraint and conservatism about it which allgames played among gentlemen most positively should possess. But thechap who pushed that great big beast of a push ball violently upon myunsuspecting nose was certainly no gentleman. Golly, what a resoundingwhack! This fellow (I suspect him of being a German spy, basing mysuspicions upon his seeming disposition for atrocities) was standingby, looking morosely at this small size planet when I blows gently upand says playfully in my most engaging voice:
"I say, old dear, you push it to me and I'll push it toyou--softly, though, chappy, softly." And with that he flunghimself upon the ball and hurled it full upon my nose, completelydemolishing it. Now I have always been a little partial to my nose. Myeyes, I'll admit, are not quite as soulful as those liquid orbs ofFrancis X. Bushman's, but my nose has been frequently admired andenvied in the best drawing rooms in New York. But it won't be enviedany more, I fear--pitied rather.
Of course I played the game no more. I was nauseated by pain and thesight of blood. My would-be assassin was actually forced to sit down,he was so weak from brutal laughter. I wonder if I can ever be anEnsign with a nose like this?
"OF COURSE I PLAYED THE GAME NO MORE"]
_April 7th._ On the way back from a little outing the other day mycompanion, Tim, who in civil life had been a barkeeper and a good oneat that, ingratiated himself in the good graces of a passingautomobile party and we consequently were asked in. There were twogirls, sisters, I fancy, and a father and mother aboard.
"And where do you come from, young gentlemen?" asked the old man.
"Me pal comes from San Diego," pipes up my unscrupulous friend, "andmy home town is San Francisco."
I knew for a fact that he had never been farther from home than thePolo Grounds, and as for me I had only the sketchiest idea of where myhome town was supposed to be.
"Ah, Westerners!" exclaimed the old lady. "I come from the Westmyself. My family goes back there every year."
"Yes," chimed in the girls, "we just love San Diego!"
"In what section of the town did you live?" asked the gentleman, andmy friend whom I was inwardly cursing, seeing my perplexity, quicklyput in for me:
"Oh, you would never know it, sir," and then lowering his voice in aconfidential way, he added, "he kept a barroom in the Mexican part ofthe town."
"A barroom!" exclaimed the old lady. "Fancy that!" She looked at mewith great, innocent interest.
"Yes," continued this lost soul, "my father, who is a State senator,sent him to boarding school and tried to do everything for him, but hedrifted back into the old life just as soon as he could. It gets a holdon them, you know."
&nb
sp; "Yes, I know," said the old lady, sadly, "my cook had a son that wentthe same way."
"He isn't really vicious, though," added my false friend with feignedloyalty--"merely reckless."
"Well, my poor boy," put in the old gentleman with cheeryconsideration, "I am sure you must find that navy life does you aworld of good--regular hours, temperate living and all that."
"Right you are, sport," says I bitterly, assuming my enforced role, "Ihaven't slit a Greaser's throat since I enlisted."
"We must all make sacrifices these days," sighed the old lady.
"And perhaps
Turnabout