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Show SHIPPING HOME 200,000 MEN A MONTH IS SOME LARGE SIZE JOB it . . Hilarious Happiness of Doughboys at Embarkation Ports in France Is Infectious Enough to Make a Stone Dog Wag His Tail Difficulties of the Task Interestingly Inter-estingly Described. By WILLIAM D. HINES. Bordeaux. The army is going home, and it Is going home happy. I saw 5,-000 5,-000 of them sail for home today, and I've been praising myself on ray moral courage ever since. How I ever re-' siated the temptation to sneak on board with them is more than I can figure out. Their hilarious happiness was Infectious enough to make a stone dog wtig his tail. They shouted, they sang, they danced. The oldest and most moss-covered moss-covered joke got a hearty laugh. Past hardships, dangers and troubles were forgotten ; only thoughts of the Homeland Home-land and all that it can Tnean to a homesick boy occupied their minds. - At the docks where the big transports trans-ports are tied up, huge sheds a hundred hun-dred feet wide and a thousand" or mqre In length have been constructed with roofs and sides of corrugated iron. Special rooms, with warm fires, have been set aside for the wounded, the stretcher cases occupying one and the walking wounded another. Here Red Cross nurses are bustling, accompanied accom-panied with orderlies with trays of steaming coffee and sandwiches. Some nurses lift the men's heads tenderly, tuck a pillow beneath so they can assume as-sume a sitting posture without effort while eating. The others give them new pajamas, handkerchief full of cigarettes ciga-rettes and sweets and other comforts. Joy of Going Home. At the Red Cross canteen, in the center of the room, the counters are snow-white and piled high with sandwiches. sand-wiches. Behind the counters American Ameri-can women in blue gowns and white, starched head-dresses welcome the doughboys with a smile as they "dig la." "Say. can I take any word back to the ol' Statue of Liberty for you?" asks one lad with a grin of joy that Stretches from ear to ear, as the women wom-en pour hot coffee and hand out the sandwiches. In a winding line they weave past the canteen and then are directed across the way to another counter. Here they pass by two more Red Cross workers, who hand them a khaki handkerchief, hand-kerchief, package of chewing gum and two packages of cigarettes. "Good-by, good luck," says the American girl, as she hands out a handkerchief. One doughboy is seen to use the handkerchief Immediately. A lump has suddenly contracted in his throat, and there is a blur before his eyes. He is only a boy, aird his joy has reached a climax when the American woman smiled at him nnd wished him good luck. As a big, strapping chap lumbers up to the counter and holds out his hand rather sheepishly : "Pleasant voyage and a fine reunion with the old folks," says the girl with a smile. The sheepish sheep-ish look disappears in a flash, the big chap looks grave, and with a courteous courte-ous nod, he answers : "Thank you ; I'll tell the folks how fine you've been to us." It's fhe girl's turn to choke a bit. " Caring for the Wounded. Outside, meanwhile, the stretcher cases and the walking wounded have been stowed comfortably aboard the big liner. "Fall in !" There is a scramble for company formation and all thoughts turn to the boat. As the officers march down the line, giving a last Inspection, eyes become a- bit worried wor-ried and foursome. Suppose they are looking for some one to keep back? Maybe the boat can't take all of the men assigned to it ! The strain is awful. Then the order Is given to move forward to the exit of the shed and onto the gang-plank. As each man passes out his name is checked, and at the top of the gang- 1 plank his squad is tolled off and escorted es-corted to quarters. "Whistles toot, the stevedores unloose the hawsers. The band plays on the top deck. Men climb into the masts and rigging. The rails are lined with them. They shout, they scream, they laugh, they cry. Another regiment has gone home. To the layman it sounds easy, doesn't it? Two hundred thousand men a month, or approximately G5.000 from eaeli of the three main embarkation embarka-tion ports in France Bordeaux, Salnt-Nazaire Salnt-Nazaire and Brest! There shouldn't be any difficulty about that. Well, just listen a moment to the difficulties of the actual work: . First, there is the priority of wounded wound-ed men on the embarkation lists. Every Ev-ery man able to stand the journey is being sent as soon as possible to America. Amer-ica. But a wounded or sick man cannot be taken immediately from the hospital hos-pital train at the port to the boat. And unfortunately, the trains and boats don't arrive together. So he must be taken to a hospital at or near the port. His transportation from train to hospital, hos-pital, bis care there and his transportation transpor-tation from the hospital to the boat require re-quire labor and time. The handling and care of the wounded wound-ed also have been worked out to a fine point. The orderlies that receive them at the dock are trained In the handling of stretchers. An ambulance carrying four men is unloaded and ready for inspection at the dock within with-in four minutes from the time it arrives. ar-rives. Each stretcher is met at the gang-plank by a ship orderly and conducted con-ducted to a place aboard, previously selected, according to the nature of his case. So much for the wounded and sick. How They Are Handled. Then there is the well soldier to be considered. Soldiers on active service, selected for demobilization, are arriving arriv-ing at the embarkation ports in groups which number from 2,000 to 5,000, and. at all hours of the day or night. It rains almost every day along the Atlantic At-lantic seaboard in Franco. It Is a cold, disagreeable rain, which chills the bones and makes mud ankle deep. This means that warm accommodations accommoda-tions and hot food must, be always ready. Then they must await their turn to sail. Some may remain in the concen-tiatlqn concen-tiatlqn camp six weeks. It all depends de-pends upon the ocean transportation. If they arrive .in units such as regiments, regi-ments, battalions, etc. they must be kept together and sail together. Not all sofUiers come in regime'iits or battalions, either. There is the problem of the "casual" for instance. This man is a problem even to himself. him-self. He started out in the army as a member of a certain unit. But in the necessary shifting, reducing, increasing in-creasing and separation of his and . other units or outfits, he became detached. de-tached. Whether coming in a regiment or alone, too, each man must be carefully checked upon entering and leaving and also at the dock before boarding the transport. This is no small job when 05,000 or more men are handled each month. Going Through the "Mill." Probably the only inkling that a well soldier at the embarkation concentration concentra-tion camps in France has that his Internment In-ternment Is nearly up and that lie will soon be on his way home is the order to report at the "mill." The "mill" Is a series of buildings, which transforms trans-forms the feelings of a doughboy from that of a cootie, mud-pestered individual individ-ual to that of a enre-free, wealthy boulevard promenader. The individual doughboy receives his -order to report at the front entrance. en-trance. He enters a huge room with hundreds of others, is assigned to a place on one of the long benches which face each other like the pews in the large railroad station at home. A big-clothes big-clothes rack on rollers faces him. H. is given a Red Cross comfort bag for the storage of his valuables, a check with the number of his place on it with a duplicate on his clothes, which he is ordered to remove to the last thread. So many minutes are allowed him for the disrobing process. There are-others are-others waiting. So the doughboy strips and takes his place in line at the side of the room. The line moves forward and he finds v himself In a steam-clouded room with tiny streams; of hot water hissing from shower sprays overhead. A big sergeant shoves a wad of soft-soap soft-soap into his hand as he passes and shouts: "Make it snappy. You've just got 30 seconds." Sergeants are always in a hurry and expect everyone" else to be. The doughbov jumps under one of the sprays with a gasp, which turns to a shout as he feels the hot water bring a glow to his body. At the word "all out" he steps fo one side and is handed a towel to dry himself. Another line is formed and quiet creeps over the crowd. The next room holds ' the doughboy's fate, and he knows it. It's the medical inspection room. It's the same old feeling he had when he enlisted and came to be examined. Doctors always were the bane of his existence. The door opens and he steps through. Medical Inspection. An officer arises from beneath a sign marked "chest," taps his lungs and listens lis-tens to his heart. He says nothing, but sits down nnd marks some hieroglyphics hiero-glyphics on a card, which he passes to-the to-the officer behind him. The doughboy pusses on, "too. His eyes, ears and throat are gone over by this officer. He passes on; the little white card always al-ways preceding him. He tries to glimpse the marks, but even if he does see them, be doesn't know whether they are favorable or not. He passes to the last of the six fables fa-bles and feels worse than he iTTTrWfci the. Argonne offensive. With the rest he passes on into the next room, where another sergeant with just as loud a voice as the noncom in the bathroom fells him again to "make it snappy'r and find his place. The room resembles the fl'-s one In size and equipment. Only the windows win-dows are on the opposite side of the building! The rack on which he placed his-clothes his-clothes in the first room of the "mill"' ha;- been rolled, while he has been in the shower, through a side door Into-a Into-a delousing and fumigating room, and inspected and put hPre. He grabs his clean clothes from the rack with a great grin. Even if his clothes have been adjudged fit for salvage and replaced re-placed with an entire new outfit which doesn't really fit, he still grins. Why wouldn't he? He knows he Is going home now. And he Is happy. - Some job. after all. shipping home 200,000 men a month. Isn't it? |