Conscript 2989 Part 8

We came upon other columns of fellows, coming from other companies, bound with us for this Southern camp. On we marched to the terminal.

Here confusion reigned for a while, for hundreds of men in khaki were scattered everywhere, all bending under blue duffel bags, and wondering what was to happen next.

But soon we were entrained, and then with locomotive whistles hooting, and heads bobbing from every car window, we said farewell to The Camp.

And with the leave-taking our spirits seemed to rise, for there was singing and whistling and horse play once more as the big cantonment faded from view behind its fringe of pine woods.

Our first impression was that we would travel all the way to Georgia in the cars we had been a.s.signed to, but, fortunately, this was not true, for after a long and tedious trip we detrained again at a ferry terminal in Brooklyn. Here, too, was confusion. It was late in the afternoon, and we were hungry. Every candy stand, and handy store was patronized until the officers interfered. Then came the big, old fashioned side-wheeled ferries, and we were hustled aboard.

Soon the old craft swung out into the river and with churning paddles we headed down stream.

It was just sunset. Far down the bay, beyond Governor's Island and Liberty, a great, fiery red disc was setting in a haze of smoke and mist from the city, while to our right and left on the river banks, lights began to twinkle, and overhead strings of diamonds draped each gracefully arching bridge. Past the Navy Yard we swung, with cheers from the crews of three destroyers in the river. Tugs and steamers and pa.s.sing sound night boats greeted us with whistles, and we lined the rails and cheered back.

Soon we churned under the last of the bridges and began to make our tortoise-like way around the Battery. Lights were glimmering through the violet haze that shrouded the ma.s.s of sky-touching buildings, and in the foreground were hurrying throngs of men and women wending their way through Battery Park toward the ferries.

Up the North River, the skyline of the huge cities changed and grew more impressive, as one building after another came out of the ma.s.s and stood alone against the blue-black Eastern night sky. Ferries criss-crossing in the darkness, leaving sparkling trails of light that danced on the water, crowded close to us at times, and the ma.s.s of men and women huddled on the windswept decks, cheered us on our way. Thus did we say our last good-bye to the big city-and we said it solemnly and thoughtfully, too, for many of us know that we are going on the long, long journey and will never see that skyline again.

The crowds in the terminal, as we hurried from ferry to the railroad yard, cheered us, too, and men rushed out to shake hands with us and crowded cigarettes and cigars into our pockets as we marched on.

We had been told that the Red Cross would feed us. It did, to the extent of a single sandwich and a cup of coffee, hastily s.n.a.t.c.hed as we wended our way through the railroad yard to the train.

Long tourist sleepers are our lot. They stood on a siding, dimly lighted with a single candle at either end of the car when we climbed into them and were a.s.signed to our seats. We are settled now, and rolling swiftly across Jersey. Lights have been turned on, and the interior of the car looks very strange with the big blue duffel bags swinging from every hook and swaying as the train rounds each curve. But we are all very quiet, and many of us are thinking. We are all homesick that is certain, and hungry, too, and wondering about the future.

Tuesday:

We are rolling through Virginia into the sunset.

For twenty hours we have been crowded into these cars, and we are cramped and tired, but feeling happier with all. Two to a berth, we tried to sleep last night. But sleep was impossible. I was up most of the night, standing at the upper end of the car looking out the window, while my new-found bunkie tried hard to get in a few winks. He wasn't successful.

At midnight we ran through a little station called Brandy, and there in a pounding rainstorm, under the light of a smoky, yellow oil lamp, stood a solitary soldierly-looking figure, a boy, bare-footed and with head uncovered and his rain-soaked cap held over his heart in a salute. He alone had been watching for the troop train.

Sometime after daylight, at Charlottesville, our train stopped for water. All signs of the rain had cleared, hundreds of boys, black and white, and men and women swarmed to the station to greet us. Our canteens were pa.s.sed out of the windows for water, and hot coffee and thick sandwiches of home-made bread and jelly and delicious ham were given to us by a committee of very old women who had been up since long before daylight awaiting our arrival. Rations were served to us after we pulled out of the station, consisting of bread and hard crackers, and a can of tomatoes and a can of beans for every six men.

By way of diversion we began to play poker for the beans, and a pair of jacks left me breakfastless, except for the coffee and sandwich I was fortunate enough to get at Charlottesville. And that is all I have had since seven o'clock and it is now half-past four.

At one station along the line, where we laid over for a few moments, several fellows, acting as Sergeants, were sent out to buy food for our company. But the train pulled out without them. Goodness knows where they are now, but the saddest part of it is that they didn't bring back the eats.

Wednesday:

We are travelling through a land of gold and red and green, with huge dabs of white marking the cotton fields. And we are hungry no longer.

At Cornellia the train stopped for half an hour, and the fellows, all but famished, made a wild rush for the door, and sweeping aside such obstructions as angry Sergeants took the town by storm. About seven hundred soldiers descended upon it, and bought everything in the eating line that they could possibly find, even to whole cheeses, huge stalks of bananas, and cases of honey. We ate, and we flooded the town with money. Never has Cornellia seen such a busy half-hour in its history, and never did the stores do such a tremendous business.

We held up the troop train while we satisfied our appet.i.tes. But what of it! We are happy now, with tight belts and plenty of cigarettes to smoke, so why worry!

Never in my life have I seen so many negroes. They swarm about the train at every stop we make, chalk their initials on the cars (as every one else has done) sing songs, cheer and just bubble over with enthusiasm.

Last night, while our train was on a siding, an old fellow somehow got inside the car and did a wild buck and wing dance in the aisle for pennies that were tossed from every bunk. And this morning another old fellow, with a bag of cotton on his back, came a little too close to the windows of the troop train. Eager hands seized the bag and pulled it from his shoulders, and presently the cotton was being distributed among the men as souvenirs.

And now we are only twenty miles from Atlanta, and the fellows are beginning to pack up their belongings. Some are trying hard to shave in a crowded wash-room, for the long train ride has left us all appearing a little the worse for wear and we want to enter our new home as presentable as possible.

I wonder what this new home will be like? Camp X is the cantonment and I am told that it is bigger than the place we left, but if it is half as pleasant we will be satisfied.

THE END