Uncle Sam's Boys In The Ranks Part 19

CHAPTER IX

ORDERED TO THE THIRTY-FOURTH

TWELVE working days with arms, and Privates Overton and Terry were moved on into A Company.

They were now deeper than ever in the work of learning the soldier's trade.

A tremendous change had been worked in them. Though their faces were as youthful as ever, the boys seemed to have grown into the dignity of men--of trained men, at that.

They carried themselves like soldiers, thought of themselves as soldiers, and were soldiers. For they loved their work better than ever.

"We need only to get to our regiment now, to be wholly happy," Noll declared to his chum. "Oh, why can't more young fellows, droning their lives out in offices, or tending senseless machines in shops, understand the joy of this free, manly life?"

Of course, not all rookies at the post had conceived as large an idea of Army life.

Two, who had joined at about the same time as Overton and Terry, had not proved themselves wholly suited to a life of discipline. This pair had committed several breaches of the rules, and had at last been haled before courts-martial and dismissed the service.

Only the young man who has in him the makings of a man and a soldier finds the life of the Army attractive. The incompetent, the s.h.i.+ftless and the vicious are no better off in the Army than they would be anywhere else. In fact they are out of their element.

Shrimp, the sullen, had gone, too, at last. The order had been published that sent him to undergo a year's imprisonment for having attempted to desert.

This corporal had had in him three quarters of the makings of a good soldier. He had been promoted once, and fell short of being a soldier only as he fell short of being a man.

Ahead of any that had joined at about the same time, Hal and Noll were "warned" for guard-duty. Sergeant Brimmer gave them the order, and seemed happy in doing it.

"You men are doing your work splendidly," he added briefly. "Read up the manual of guard-duty for all you're worth before guard-mount to-morrow morning."

"I think we know it by heart, already, Sergeant," Hal answered.

"I don't doubt that in the least. But it can't do you any harm to read up some more."

"Thank you, Sergeant; we'll do it."

Guard-mounting is a ceremony of importance in the Army. It is done to music, where music is available. Every man who turns out on the new guard--which means that he is to be on duty for the next twenty-four hours--is expected to present himself with his person, uniform and equipments absolutely clean and tidy. The two men who thus make the most soldierly appearance are detailed as orderlies at headquarters. These orderlies do not have to walk post as sentries, and have in all ways a much easier time than the other members of the guard. There is always keen rivalry for the position of orderly.

On this morning, after the formation of the guard, and inspection, the post adjutant stepped forward.

"Privates Denton and Burke will fall out and report as orderlies," he commanded.

Denton and Burke obeyed, striving hard to suppress their exultation.

"Orderly detail would have fallen to Privates Overton and Terry, who present the most soldierly appearance," continued the adjutant, in his official tone. "But this is the first tour of guard duty for Privates Overton and Terry, and it is considered essential that they first of all learn to walk post and become familiar with the duties of sentries."

At that the glee in the faces of Privates Denton and Burke faded somewhat. Hal and Noll tried to keep their own faces expressionless.

Hal Overton never forgot his feelings when he shouldered his rifle, with bayonet fixed, and patrolled his first sentry post for two hours.

He felt even more the sense of responsibility when he came to his first night tour of sentry duty.

In his way the sentry is a tremendously important personage. On his post he represents the whole sovereignty of the United States of America. The youngest sentry in the Army may halt and detain any officer, no matter of how exalted rank, until he is certain that the man halted is an officer ent.i.tled to pa.s.s. Of course, with a sentry of common sense the mere appearance of the uniform is enough under ordinary circ.u.mstances.

But no personage in the United States may attempt to go by a sentry without the sentry's permission.

"How'd you enjoy it, Overton?" asked Sergeant Brimmer, who was sergeant of the guard, when Hal came in from his tour of night duty.

"I hope I didn't get myself into trouble," Hal answered.

"How so, lad?"

"I halted the commanding officer of the post."

"Was he in uniform?"

"No; in civilian dress. He had been to the city, I guess, and was coming up from the sh.o.r.e. It was dark, and I saw only the civilian clothes. So I challenged him."

"What did the K. O. say?"

"K. O." is the Army abbreviation for "commanding officer."

"He asked me what I was trying to do?" smiled Hal. "So I repeated my question, 'who's there,' Then he answered, 'the commanding officer.' I replied: 'Advance, commanding officer, to be recognized.' He seemed uncertain about it, but I made him step right up to me. When I saw who it was I told him to proceed."

"Did you hold your gun at port all the time?" inquired Sergeant Brimmer.

"Yes; until I recognized the commanding officer. Then I came to present arms, and he returned my salute, then walked by."

"Your skirts are clear enough, then," nodded the sergeant of the guard.

"But why did he ask me, so crossly, what I was trying to do?" asked Hal.

"Why," mused the sergeant, "my own idea of it is that K. O. was trying you out on purpose. And I'll wager the K. O. was glad to find a rook sentry so thoroughly alive to his job. Though I doubt if you'll get commended in orders for just being awake. But that reminds me of something that happened to me, in the Philippines," laughed Brimmer. "I was sergeant of the guard out there, and one night the colonel of another regiment tried to go by our guard. At that time the law was that no civilian could be on the streets after half-past eight. 'Twas called the curfew law there.

"Well, Colonel Blank came up in a carriage at about ten in the evening.

He wasn't in uniform, mind you, lad. Well, the sentry on number one post, who didn't know the colonel, stopped his carriage, of course.

"'I'm Colonel Blank,' says the man in the carriage. 'Corporal of the guard,' calls the sentry. 'I'm Colonel Blank,' says the man in the carriage to the corporal of the guard. Now, the corporal didn't know the colonel either. So the corporal bawls, 'Sergeant of the guard.' That was I, that night, and I didn't know the colonel, either. So I asked: 'Beg your pardon, sir, but do you know any of the officers of this command?'

"'Name the officers,' says the man in the carriage. So I named them.

"'I don't know one of your officers,' says the man in the carriage.

"'Then I'm sorry, sir,' says I, 'but I'll have to ask you, sir, to step into our guard-house until some officer of your regiment comes over in uniform and identifies you.'

"At that the man in the carriage puts on an awful scowl, draws himself up very stiff, and answers, 'I'll do nothing of the sort, Sergeant.'

"'I beg your pardon, sir,' says I, 'but if you are Colonel Blank, then you know very well, sir, that you'll have to step inside the guard-house and wait.'"

Sergeant Brimmer chuckled heartily over the recollection.

"And did Colonel Blank obey you, and go inside and wait?" asked Hal.