Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Casual’s Return gradually that the men in these barracks were in confinement and would hardly be going to New York or anywhere else. At that moment a hand shoved him in the small of the back. “Get up!” said a voice. ‘Hit the deck. Outside to shovel snow. Make up your pack and git downstairs!” At that Eadie raised his head. The win- dow panes were still dark, but men were sitting up in their bunks here and there, some sleepily pulling on stockings or breech- es, others rubbing their touseled heads and squinting at the light, trying to dope out what it was all about. Below stairs the voice of the first sergeant could be heard, urging haste. : ‘“‘What’s coming off?” asked Eadie of the world in general. “Some new —— thing to make us sorry we’re soldiers,”’ answered the man across the aisle. “They spring a new one about twice a week.’ Eadie’s watch informed him it was two- thirty. He and Brown helped each other to roll packs and then stumbled down the echoing stairs into the bitter cold of the morning. They found some men there already, shivering and cursing, their hands in their breeches pockets and their rifle barrels under their forearms. A _ stream of light blazed from the door and a rough voice called: “Full pack ’n’ overcoats. Didn’t you hear me say it before? Snap out of it! Wash your ears once in a while an’ you'll hear better.” Wordlessly the men went in again and put on their overcoats. They assisted each other to put on packs and went back into outer darkness once more. There was an officer there now and after the command, “Fall in,” he went up and down the ranks, counting the men. The roll was called and the men counted again by the first sergeant. There was some more muttering and then— “Squads right; column right; Huh!” and the men tramped off. The great gates swung open and the column marched out. Some men who had been waiting on the far side of the gate joined the column as file closers, and Eadie noticed that these men bore their rifles across their arms. He heard a dry coughing from the rear of the column and rightly judged that a motorcycle brought up the rear. Evidently the authorities feared some of the men Il might get Jost in the darkness. They turned into the main highway of the camp, tramping stolidly along, past barrack after barrack, past row upon row of blank, staring windows, past recreation huts, dark and silent. At the corners of the streets a Shadow among the shadows and something winking in the arc light showed where some lonely sentinel turned about to watch the column and made the light flash on his bayonet. The pack weighed heavily upon Eadie’s shoulders and his rifle seemed to be filled with desire to rap every skull in the com- pany. Eadie had never carried one before. and this one was an Enfield, a model that is especially awkward. The column halted where a bar of light streamed across the road. They had come to one of the gates, and Eadie could see men coming out of the police post there and conferring with the officer with the column. The halt gave the men a chance to shift their packs to a more comfortable position and to mutter among themselves their views of the army, the march and the officer com- manding. “Where do you suppose we’re going?” Eadie asked the man next to him. “How’n —— do I know?” “You might give a guess. going to France.” “France !’’ cried several who had overheard. ‘“We’re goin’ to Upton or Dix. They pulled an outfit out in the middle of the night like this last week an’ when they woke up they was down on Long Island somewhere. We ain’t goin’ to France, not for much.” “Ts that a fact?” asked Eadie, aghast. “Sure’n ——,,” they all assured him. The sergeant’s heart began to congeal. He had ducked one outfit to become a member of another one far more distasteful. The Ninth Trench Mortar Battery had at least a chance of going overseas within the month, but if Eadie landed in one of the units of the National Army, the chances were he might spend the rest of his days learning the manual of arms. “This is what I get,” he thought, “for trying to fight the war the way I want to. A man never gets anywhere by disobeying orders. And now for a pleasant summer with the mosquitoes somewhere in Jersey.” The company tramped forward out of the camp and through the silent town. Their I bet we’re CoMmicbhook A) CO 5}