Adventure Magazine Cover, November 10, 1924 — page 42: what you’re looking at

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

40 ducking, but the most of them were none the worse. The evening of the second day the men were given uniforms, a small cotton bag bearing a Red Cross on the outside and with a toothbrush, razor and soap, a pack of cards and a bag of candy inside. In addi- tion they were issued a mess-kit and then taken across the road to the rest camp. Here they were assigned to bunks in an empty barrack, pending their being issued- — out to one of the companies in the camp the following day. The barracks was one of the type in- vented by General Adrian and was little more than a tent made of wood. It had an uneven dirt floor, wooden bunks and bed ticks full of straw. The men slept well, however, and at reveille leaped forth to look for the mess shack. “How long we gonna stay in this mad- house?” asked Jake, as he and Eadie scrubbed themselves at the wash trough. _ “You know as well as I do,” said the ser- geant, turning a wine spigot that served as faucet. ‘They said at the hospital that this was a rest camp and that troops came here from transports, stayed a couple of days, and then went up to their outfits. Well, I’m the only man from the 76th Field here, and I don’t think they’ll send me up alone. DP ve asked everybody in the place if they know where my outfit is, or if they ever heard of it. Answer, no!”’ “That a pretty good outfit you belong to?” asked Jake. “Tl say it is,” agreed Eadie, rubbing his face vigorously on his shirt-tail, having no better towel. ‘“That’s a real outfit. Real officers, a first sergeant that. makes ’em all snap out of it, non-coms and every one else. No lip from the privates, either, and hence no hard-boiled non-coms. If a man bucks, he knows he’ll get turned in and Judge Duffy will climb all over him. No fights, no chew- in’ the rag all the time, a mess sergeant that could find food in a desert, cooks that could make a tasty dish out of a bunch of con- demned harness leather and a supply ser- geant that would steal the pearls out of the gates of heaven. That’s my outfit! And to that outfit I’m going to return and I hope they’ll be as glad to see me as I am to see them.” The sergeant put on his new blouse and viewed it with distaste. “There’s one lad that won’t be on the committee of welcome, and that’s young Adventure Shorty Mack. He’s an instrument ser- geant and packs a lot of brains even if he Is a kid. I don’t think he shaves yet. Well, he was next in line to me and when I was left behind, he probably was made instru- ment sergeant and got the job of running the battery commander’s detail, which is the softest in the outfit. Now when I come back, I’ll rank him out of it and he’ll prob- ably go back on a gun.” “Tf you don’t get busted,” added Jake. “Naw, I won’t get busted. I know the Old Man. I rate a drag with him.” The sergeant flapped his sleeves. “This blouse is a good fit, isn’t it?” he inquired. ‘Plenty of room to grow in.” ‘“‘Convenient,”’ commented Jake, inspect- ing his mess-kit and thrusting the knife, fork and spoon into his puttee. “You won’t need to unbutton it, you can slip it on an’ off over your head. Let’s eat.” They fell into the nearest line and rat- tled their mess-kits in anticipation. The kitchen was just a tiny shack with the in- evitable paper windows, and the men stepped up and were fed quite rapidly. They had bacon, of course, and syrup and coffee. “Say,” began Jake, when he was issued what took the place of bread, “I ain’t no chow hound nor no grub crabber, but would you mind tellin’ me, just outta curiosity, what the this stuff is?”’ He held in his hand a sheet of what ap- peared to be cardboard. Eadie, who was next in line, leaned over and looked, him- self. The cardboard did not appear partic- ularly appetizing. ‘“‘That’s matzos,”’ who served. ‘““Matzos? What’s that?” asked Jake. “Jewish bread, didn’t j’ever see none before?” “No, I ain’t no Jew, I’m a Holy Roller.” “Ugh,” remarked the K. P. ‘Well, roll on an’ let some one else get fed.” Just beyond the cook shack were a couple of galvanized iron barrels, very much like ash barrels. These were known to the sol- diery as G. I. cans, the initials signifying Government Issue. In this instance they were being used for the reception of gar- bage. Beside the can stood an elderly woman, holding her apron in a supplicating atti- tude. When one of the soldiers stepped up to the can to deposit the remains of his said the cook’s police CoMmicbool Wh) (© 5}