Chit-Chat; Nirvana; The Searchlight Part 17

The office building was arranged much on the order of a Chinese restaurant; in that as you journeyed skyward conditions improved. The ground floor was the worst, but as the elevator ascended you met with more courtesy and consideration. By the time you pa.s.sed the fourth floor the man behind the desk had time to answer a relevant question, as he was not riled by his own incompetency.

After they had been in New York a day or two they learned that their pa.s.sports had not been issued and therefore there was no immediate prospect for sailing. They were then ordered to a training conference for ten days, which many attended for months, retaining their rooms and eating at an expensive hotel at the expense of Mrs. O'Flannagan.

At the conference, with the exception of lessons in the language of the country where they were to be located and the physical training given them, to many the time seemed wasted. They were subjected to daily lectures on morals and patriotism by professors who talked to them as to a group of fourth-grade boys, and sought to impress upon them that it would be unbecoming in a Y secretary to flirt with the girls of the street of Paris and London, or to lie around drunk in a front-line trench. But the professors could not help it; they were fifty and their habits were formed. They had been talking to boys from eight to sixteen years old for thirty years. They could not understand that a lawyer or dentist or preacher past forty might be a little set in his ways and might know almost half as much about the girls of the street and a plain drunk as a Boston college professor. The pupil might even have had the experience.

Possibly some of the men before sailing during their hundred nights on Broadway received a few instructions first-hand about the girls of the street and the evils of intemperance, which in a small measure prepared their innocent souls for the shock of a short sojourn in Paris.

Certainly that experience with what the professors had told them was sufficient to keep them from unconsciously being led astray, though I have been told that some of them offered the new and heretofore unheard-of excuse: "She did tempt me and I did eat."

Then they were further trained to march and to sing; since when they landed upon foreign sh.o.r.es they undoubtedly would spend most of their time marching in bands about the streets of London and Paris and Rome and possibly in due course Berlin, singing: "The Yanks are Coming" and "America Done It," because the French, Italians and Germans know little or nothing about music, and any American Y man, especially a blacksmith from Shoulder Blade, Kentucky, could give them a few lessons. And the British--why, they could do nothing, or would do nothing, till they got there. They were drilled for a month or more in squads right and squads left and taught by music masters to sing: "Here We Are, Hear the Eagle Scream."

The last time they marched was when they marched off the boat on the other sh.o.r.e; after that when they walked they hoofed it. And the last time they sang was just before they heard the Italians sing. The first performance by comparison with the second sounded as a tom-tom concert in compet.i.tion with the celestial choir. Talk about carrying coals to Newcastle; the most absurd performance of the Y was exporting American singers to entertain the Italian army.

Have you thought about it? Since Woodrow Wilson has been President, America has been afflicted with what might be called the Professors'

Age. The professors in the Y certainly had the pull. If a kitchen was opened in Flanders, a professor of chemistry was the director in charge; a chef was no better than a kitchen scullion. If a tooth was to be pulled, a professor of anatomy performed the operation because he knew the root from the crown, while a dentist handled freight in a warehouse.

A professor of mathematics was put in charge of motor vehicles, while a machinist arranged the programme for a vocal concert. A professor of languages would be made chief accountant, while an expert accountant was put in charge of a moving-picture machine. Professor Brown was given charge in France; Professor Greene in England, and Professor Black in Italy; and their regional directors were professor this and that; a professor of penmanship in Rome, a professor of biology in Genoa, a professor of languages in Brescia, and a professor of something else in Naples, Milan, Venice, Trieste and Palermo. There was as much of school-teacher dictatorship in the foreign Y as Secretary Lansing found at the head of the State Department. When a doughboy referred to the Y as "the d.a.m.n Y," it is possible he recognized the secretary in charge as his former professor of mathematics or languages.

But slowly as these professors returned to America order came out of chaos; the Y adjusted itself and became an efficient machine. We can probably look upon it as a permanent organization in foreign lands by the time these gifted and well-trained executives, these learned expatriates, have all been called home.

Because of mismanagement and disorganization in the beginning, many a Y man who had left home with the best intentions, became disappointed and disgusted and so unfit for service.

He began by traveling from pillar to post and ended by seeing France and Italy at Mrs. O'Flannagan's expense. He returned home saying unkind things of the Y. Those who saw him traveling about, usually in an expensive car, burning gasoline which cost more than a dollar a gallon or traveling free on overcrowded trains, needed to transport troops or civilians on imperative business, said unkind things of the Y.

The men in the service of the Y had no reason for complaint at the reception or courtesy extended them by the foreign governments where they were placed. In Italy they had free first-cla.s.s transportations and could frank their baggage. The organization was given free freight, express, postal and telegraph service. Certain government monopolies were waived and customs' charges revoked in its favor.

Nor could the men complain of the Y in the allowance for expenses and salaries, as the organization in every instance more than lived up to its agreement. No great criticism can be found with the organization. A man who wanted to work and serve had the opportunity. Just criticism for incompetence was local, and for discourtesy and dishonesty was individual.

CHAPTER II.

"Y" SERVICE.

One evening in the spring of 1918 John Calhoun Saylor, ex-Congressman, sat before the open fire in the old Clay residence, reading the Courier-Journal.

"Just as I expected, thirty-five, that gets me. I was born in 1885."

Then he read to his wife that the draft age would be raised to thirty-five.

"But, John, you are married."

"Yes, thoroughly--but that makes no difference in my case. We have no children; you and I have some little property, enough of an income to live on; there's no one dependent upon me; I'm as strong as a mule, feet, eyes, ears and teeth all right; no chance for rejection; they'll get me sure. I guess it would have been better if I had gone to an officer's training camp. My friends know I am no coward; I have been shot at before, but I do not want some spindley, little dry-goods clerk of a lieutenant telling me where to get off at; and I don't fancy living in Washington as a dollar-a-year man. I rebel against restraint and routine."

"John, though I would miss you greatly, as you know a few months'

foreign service would help you politically. All the boys and younger men in the eastern end of the State are in Europe, or preparing for foreign service. It would be a mistake to wait and be drafted. When the women begin voting, as they will in a year or two, they will vote for the ex-soldier."

"Foreign service is all right, if the war don't last too long. It is the training camp I want to dodge. Well, this might help out--'The International Y. M. C. A. desires several hundred men for immediate service abroad. Kentucky is expected to furnish thirty of this number.

They must be over the present draft age and contract to serve one year or for duration of the war. Applicants please write or call upon Mr.

Theobald Burton, Y. M. C. A. Building, Louisville, Ky.'

"Suppose we go to Louisville tomorrow? Then I will call upon Mr. Burton and learn what would be expected of me."

Mr. and Mrs. Saylor went to Louisville and to see Mr. Burton. John Calhoun made out an application for service, which was held up until he furnished a physician's health certificate and the declarations of three reputable citizens, including the pastor of the church he attended, as to his moral fitness for the work. Then his application was forwarded for approval to the general offices.

Then he made application for a pa.s.sport for service in Italy and France, which was forwarded by the Clerk of the United States District Court to Washington. He was then vaccinated and given the typhoid serum treatment--precautions required under army regulations.

Feeling a.s.sured that the Y. M. C. A. could not do without his services, he returned home and made preparation for a year's absence.

He so managed that the local papers gave him quite a boost. They told how he had gone to Louisville, where he had made repeated efforts to enlist in both the army and the navy, but had been rejected. He then made application to enter the International Y. M. C. A. for foreign service and had been accepted. "This Mr. Saylor had done at great personal inconvenience and considerable business sacrifice, feeling that it was his duty to serve his country. He expects to sail for Europe before the end of the month."

On the morning of the 2d of June he received a telegram from the International Y to report in New York, prepared to sail immediately upon arrival. He left home that afternoon and on the night of the 3d reported at the Hotel St. Andrews, where he was a.s.signed quarters, sharing his room with another Y man. There he remained, his expenses paid by the Y, until he sailed three months later.

The morning after arrival, reporting at the main office, 347 Madison Avenue, he was told that his pa.s.sport had not been received and it was impossible to tell when it might be.

Speaking a little Italian, which Luigi Poggi had taught him when a boy, he was directed to prepare for Y service with the Italian army and sent to take the training course at the university.

There he was taught to march and to sing "The Yanks are Coming" and other choice vocal selections; was lectured on patriotism and cautioned against intemperance, lewd and lascivious conduct and the great temptations held out to innocent and inexperienced Y secretaries in the great foreign cities. He was given lessons in Italian and at the end of three months could speak that language more fluently than his professor.

On the 26th of August his pa.s.sport arrived and he was notified to be prepared to sail on September 1st. From that time until he left New York he stood in line before different clerks and officials, receiving instructions, signing papers and procuring his outfit. He was furnished everything except his underclothing, including a fund for incidental expenses over actual transportation.

Standing in line with more than a hundred others, he was surprised to see, only a short way behind him, his brother-in-law, John Cornwall.

Cornwall, in January, 1918, had made application to enter the Officers Training Camp at Port Benjamin Harrison, but had been rejected because he was past forty-five. He had then tried to enlist as a private, but had been rejected for the same reason. He had tendered his services to the Judge Advocate General's department, but had heard nothing from his application. As a last opportunity he offered his services to the International Y and had been accepted.

He arrived in New York on the night of August 27th and learned that his pa.s.sport had been received, and he and three hundred and sixteen other Y men were to sail on September 1st.

In the early morning of that date they boarded a train for Montreal, where they arrived past midnight and were marched aboard the Burmah, a British transport of seven thousand tons burden. At two a. m. they were given a meal of tea, bread, condensed milk, boiled potatoes and a most horrible sausage and told to turn in. As their bunks were hold hamocks, quite a few turned out.

About daylight the thousand-mile journey down the St. Lawrence began.

When they reached the ocean they joined a convoy of a dozen ships, screened in a cold mist and rocked by a choppy sea. Then began the ocean voyage of twelve days, through fog and rain and over a rough, gray sea.

At night it was early to bed, because lights were not allowed.

The fare shows the ship's registry, and for breakfast, dinner and supper was the same--tea, oatmeal, mutton, marmalade, condensed milk, cheese, oleomargarin, bread and boiled potatoes. The ship was redolent with mutton. Those whose stomachs were upset by a first voyage, more than sixty per cent, declared they could never again look a sheep in the face and live through it. Several gave their sheep skin coats away, believing they added to the prevailing odor.

Every day of the voyage they marched in the morning and held a song service in the afternoon, followed by an address by some diplomatic preacher or professor, who, being on a British transport, considered it an opportune time to tell the captain and crew what the Yanks intended doing and why the soldiers of all the other allied nations had failed in the war.

When they were off the Irish coast a half-dozen British destroyers steamed out of the fog and met them and, like greyhounds at full speed, chased one another in great circles around the more slowly moving convoy.

At Liverpool they marched ash.o.r.e singing, "The Yanks are Coming" and never marched again. Then they traveled by train to London and a day or two later to Southampton, then by channel steamer to Havre, then by train to Paris, where most of the men were a.s.signed to service in France.

Those going to Italy, some thirty-five, including Saylor and Cornwall, several days later traveled by train through Southwestern France to Modane, then by way of Turin to Bologna.

There they made settlement of their incidental expense accounts, which did not include transportation charges; and though they traveled together and stopped at the same hotels, Saylor rendered an account for two hundred and twenty-five dollars and Cornwall one for eighty-three dollars.

In Bologna they were lectured and cautioned, particularly against having anything to say about the Protestant religion in a Catholic country, or making themselves conspicuous by attending Protestant churches and gatherings. Then they were indiscriminately scattered from the Austrian boundary to Syracuse.

John Calhoun was given a high-powered car and stationed at Cento, a place within convenient distance of Florence, Venice, Verona, Brescia and Milan. He always left Cento on Sat.u.r.day a. m. and returned Monday p. m. He saw these and more distant cities. The cafes on the sh.o.r.es of lakes Garda, Iseo, Como and Maggiore knew the resonant sound of his Klaxon horn.