Biltmore Oswald Page 6
"If I can only keep him out of the brig," said this low-down friend ofmine, "I think they might make a first-rate mess hand out of him," atwhich remark both of the girls, who up to this moment had beenstudying me silently, exploded into loud peals of mirth and then Iknew where I had met them before--at Kitty Van Tassel's coming outparty, and I distinctly recalled having spilled some punch on theprettier one's white satin slipper.
"We get out here," I said, hoarsely, choking with rage.
"But!" exclaimed the old lady, "it's the loneliest part of the road."
"However that may be," I replied with fine firmness, "I mustnevertheless alight here. I have a great many things to do before Ireturn to camp and lonely roads are well suited to my purposes. Myhomicidal leanings are completely over-powering me."
"Watch him closely," said the old lady to my companion, as the carcame to a stop.
"He will have to," I replied grimly, as I prepared to alight.
"Perhaps Mr. Oswald will mix us a cocktail some day," said one of thesisters, leaning over the side of the car. "I have heard that hesupported many bars at one time, but I never knew he really ownedone."
"What," I heard the old lady exclaiming as the car pulled away, "hereally isn't a bartender at all--well, fancy that!"
There were a couple of pairs of rather dusty liberty blues in campthat night.
_April 8th._ Yesterday mother paid a visit to camp and insisted uponme breaking out my hammock in order for her to see if I had coversenough.
"I can never permit you to sleep in that, my dear," she said afterpounding and prodding it for a few numbers; "never--and I am sure theCommander will agree with me after I have explained to him howdelicate you have always been."
Later in the afternoon she became a trifle mollified when I told herthat the master-at-arms came around every night and distributed extrablankets to every one that felt cold. "Be sure to see that he givesyou enough coverings," she said severely, "or else put him on report,"which I faithfully promised to do.
She was greatly delighted with the Y.M.C.A. and the Hostess Committee.Here I stood her up for several bricks of ice cream and a largequantity of cake. My fourth attempt she refused, however, saying byway of explanation to a very pretty girl standing by, "It wouldn't begood for him, my dear; my son has always had such a weak stomach. Theleast little thing upsets him."
"SHE WAS GREATLY DELIGHTED WITH THE Y.M.C.A."]
"I believe you," replied the young lady, sympathetically, as she gazedat me. I certainly looked upset at the moment. This was worse than theunderwear.
"So that's an Ensign!" she exclaimed later in an obviouslydisappointed tone of voice; "well, I'm not so sure that I want you tobecome one now." The passing ensign couldn't help but hear her, as shehad practically screamed in his ear. He turned and studied my facecarefully. I think he was making sure that he could remember it.
"Now take me to your physician," commanded mother, resolutely. "I wantto be sure that he sees that you take your spring tonic regularly."
"Mother," I pleaded, "don't you think it is time you were going? Ihave a private lesson in sale embroidery in ten minutes that Iwouldn't miss for the world--the sweetest man teaches it!"
"Well, under the circumstances I won't keep you," said mother, "butI'll write to the doctor just the same."
"Yes, do," I urged, "send it care of me so that he'll be sure to getit."
Mother is not a restful creature in camp.
_April 9th._ "Say, there, you with the nose," cried my P.O. companycommander to-day, "are you with us or are you playing a little game ofyour own?"
I wasn't so very wrong--just the slight difference between port andpresent arms.
"With you, heart and soul," I replied, hoping to make a favorableimpression by a smart retort.
"That don't work in the manual," he replied; "use your brain andears."
Unnecessarily rough he was, but I don't know but what he wasn't right.
"I WASN'T SO VERY WRONG--JUST THE SLIGHT DIFFERENCEBETWEEN PORT AND PRESENT ARMS"]
_April 10th._ I hear that I am going to be put on the mess crew. Godpity me, poor wretch! How shall I ever keep my hands from becomingred? What a terrible war it is!
_April 11th._ Saw a basket ball game the other night. Never knew itwas so rough. I used to play it with the girls and we had such sport.There seemed to be some reason for it then. There are a couple ofqueer looking brothers on our team who seem to try utterly to demolishtheir opponents. They remind me of a couple of tough gentlemen fromScranton I heard about in a story once.
_April 12th._ The price of fags (gee! I'm getting rough) has gone upagain. This war is rapidly cramping my style.
_April 14th._ I have been too sick at heart to write up my diary--Eliis dead! "Pop," the Jimmy-legs, found the body and has been promotedto Chief Master-at-arms. It's an ill wind that blows no good. Idon't know whether it was because he found Eli or because he runs oneof the most modernly managed mess halls in camp or because his workingparties are always well attended that "Pop" received his appointment,but whatever it was it does my heart good to see a real seagoing oldsalt, one of our few remaining ex-apprentice boys, receive recognitionthat is so well merited. However, I was on much more intimate termswith Eli when I was over in Probation Camp than I was with "Pop." Healmost had me in his clutches once for late hammocks, me and eightother poor victims I had led into the trouble, and he had ourwheelbarrows all picked out for us, and a nice large pile of sand forus to play with when fate interceded in our behalf. The poor mannearly cried out of sheer anguish of soul, and I can't justly blamehim. It's hard lines to have a nice fat extra duty party go dead onyour hands.
But with Eli it was different. When I was a homeless rookie he took mein and I fed him--cigarette butts--and I'll honestly say that heshowed more genuine appreciation than many a flapper I have plied withcostly viands. He was a good goat, Eli. Not a refined goat, to besure, but a good, honest, whole-souled goat just the same. He did hisshare in policing the grounds, never shirked a cigar end or a bit ofpaper and amused many a mess gear line. He was loyal to his friends,tolerant with new recruits and a credit to the service in general.Considering the environment in which he lived, I think he deportedhimself with much dignity and moderation. I for one shall miss Eli.Some of the happier memories of my rookie days die with him. He issurvived by numerous dogs.
_April 25th._ Yesterday I wandered around Probation Camp in a verypatronizing manner and finally stopped to shed a tear on the humblegrave of Eli.
"Poor sinful goat," I thought sadly, "here you lie at last in yourfinal resting place, but your phantom, I wonder, does it go coursingmadly down the Milky Way, butting the stars aside with itsbattle-scarred head and sending swift gleams of light through theheavens as its hoofs strike against an upturned planet? Your horns,are they tipped with fire and your beard gloriously aflame, or has thegreat evil spirit of Wayward Goats descended upon you and borne youaway to a place where there is never anything to butt saveunsatisfactorily yielding walls of padded cotton? Many changes havetaken place, Eli, since you were with us, much adversity has befallenme, but the world in the large is very much the same. Bill and Mikehave been shipped to sea and strange enough to say, old Spike Kellyhas made the Quartermasters School. I alone of all the gang remainunspoken for--nobody seems anxious to avail themselves of my services.My tapes are dirtier and my white hat grows less "sea-going" every dayand even you, Eli, are being forgotten. The company commander stillcarols sweetly in the morning about "barrackses" and fire"distinguishers," rookies still continue to rook about the camp intheir timid, mild-eyed way, while week-old sailors with unwashedleggins delight their simple souls with cries of 'twenty-one days.'New goats have sprung up to take your place in the life of the campand belittle your past achievements, but to me, O unregenerate goat,you shall ever remain a refreshing memor
y. Good butting, O excellentruminant, wherever thou should chance to be. I salute you."
This soliloquy brought me to the verge of an emotional break-down. Ideparted the spot in silence. On my way back through Probation Ichanced upon a group of rookies studying for their examinations andwas surprised to remember how much I had contrived to forget.Nevertheless I stopped one of the students and asked him what a"hakamaback" was and found to my relief that he didn't know.
"Back to your manual," said I gloomily, "I fear you will never be asailor."
Having