OCR Text |
Show 'Rg3 See Here, fy Private Hargrove! Km tu Marion Hargrove " THE STORY SO FAR: Private Marion Hargrove, former feature editor of the Charlotte (N. C.) News, has been Inducted In-ducted into the army and completed the first few weeks of his training at Fort Braej. Before getting Into the army, Hargrove advises selectees to "paint the town red." Once in, "the first three weeks are the hardest" so keep "an open mind." Hargrove has had plenty of trouble learning the fundamentals of army Ufe and as a result has spent a good share of his , Classified as a cook he thinks t s s Hi. sereeant doesn't agree, experience. H.s sergeau ortlon of the civilian on this score. CHAPTER VI When Junior comes home from camp on furlough or for the weekend, week-end, he probably will throw out his chest, pull his shoulders almost out of joint, and speak a sort of jargon entirely unintelligible to you. There is no cause for alarm; Junior is merely exaggerating to show off his familiarity with military life. You will not be consoled by this knowledge when he begins speaking this unknown tongue. In order to understand some of his conversation, conversa-tion, you might tear out this page and tuck it away in the drawer with your recipes and patterns. Goldbricking is an Army term signifying sig-nifying in a word, loafing. In its strictest sense, it means avoiding your fair share of the work, thus making the load harder for the other oth-er boys. When Junior uses the term, however, it merely means hiding hid-ing from the work in the first place or stretching an easy job out to make it last as long as possible. Batting the breeze is the military equivalent of "bullshooting." v Police, as nearly as it can be explained, ex-plained, means "to clean up" or "to keep clean." Examples are kitchen police, or kaypee, canteen police, and police the area. Fatigue duty is work that is not actual military training, but a part Minneapolis bar, laid down his copy ' of the Bartender's Guide and sat up on his bunk. "Didn't you know?" he asked. "Zuber's girl's come down from Rochester. They're going go-ing riding." "That's a fine thing," crowed Clarkin. "I haven't been for a spin since I've been here. Get your shoes on, Hargrove. And straighten straight-en your name plate, McGlauflin. We must make a good impression on our guest ..." -fsa- "You sure are a pleasant surprise, sur-prise, ma'am," Clarkin prattled on to the pretty girl in the front seat. "Fancy Ben Zuber even knowing anybody like you. You should see the homely looking things he brings to the dances here." She smiled a polite thank-you at Clarkin and glanced sharply at Zuber. Zu-ber. "I never could even get him to the dances at home," she said. "He wouldn't even look at the girls at all. Would you, dear?" "No, ma'am," groaned the martyred mar-tyred Zuber, who spent almost all his evening hours writing letters to Rochester. "Just to look at Ben," said McGlauflin, Mc-Glauflin, "you'd never think such a quiet-seeming boy could raise so much devil. It constantly amazes me." Private Zuber's eirl friend's smile cases The Frenchmen swarmed a'und us, selling everything fro-steamer fro-steamer trunks to fine-toothed combs. Twenty of us boys pooled our pocket money to buy ipack :ot cigarettes for fifty cents. What are you going to spend your first pay on?" "Oh, I suppose I'll" "First payday I had I went out and bought myself a pack of cigarettes ciga-rettes and lay awake almost all night smoking them. Best cigarettes I ever tasted. By the way, how s the food at Fort Bragg?" "I find it very" - "Over in France we used to take our drinking water and swap it to the French for wine. It was a toss-up toss-up which tasted worse-our water or their wine. Ah, them was the days I Like your uniform?" "I think it's very" "Nothing like the ones we wore. There we were, in the hottest part of the summer, with these woolen OD's, Russian high collars, wraparound wrap-around leggins, and all the works. How do you like my costume? "Well, confidentially" "This field cap ain't the one they issued to me. I lost that one and had to help myself to this one. I wouldn't tell you where I got it. I used to get into more potato-peeling work for not getting this, collar t-IA-jBiVn. of the turnabout method of getting the dirty work done. Fatigue clothes are the blue denims worn for extra duty. -Regular uniforms are called OD's, an abbreviation for "olive drab." GI is short for "Government Issue." Is-sue." GI soap is the yellow laundry soap, a GI brush is a hard-bristle scrubbing brush, and a GI haircut is the regulation style which sacrifices sac-rifices two-thirds of Junior's wavy locks to cleanliness and sanitation. The PX is the post exchange, or canteen, a co-operative enterprise which sells practically everything the soldier needs. Three times a month, canteen books of credit tickets tick-ets may be obtained in denominations denomina-tions from one to five dollars. Ten per cent of the proceeds from these are returned to the battery fund, which is used to buy nonessentials for the battery. The old man is the battery commander, com-mander, who may also be referred to among yourselves as the BC or the skipper. The top kick is a first sergeant, the chief of the battery's noncommissioned officers. Jawbone is an apt word meaning "credit." A Jawbone corporal is an acting corporal, who has neither the rating nor the pay of a corporal. A guardhouse lawyer is a self-appointed self-appointed legal expert who knows all there is to know about the laws and rights of soldiers, he says. The Congressional legislation for military mili-tary discipline is contained in "the book," a manual of court-martial known as the Articles of War. The 96th Article of War, which you've heard about, is the one which provides pro-vides punishment for "conduct unbecoming un-becoming to a soldier." When you are sentenced for a number of violations vio-lations simultaneously, they "throw the book at you." Over the hill is an artistic way of referring to unauthorized absence. This is another expression for AWOL. Food is chow or mess. Stew is slum or slumgullion. Salt pork, which you rarely see in the Army, is called lamb chop. "They lam it against the wall to get the salt out of it and then they chop it up into the beans." To fall out, soldiers vacate the barracks quickly, before the ser- was not so spontaneous this time, and there was a baleful gleam in her glance at poor Benjamin. "What have you been doing, dear?" she asked with terrible gentleness. Private McGlauflin went on glibly. glib-ly. "Tell her about the time you got tight in Fayetteville and tried to take the policeman's hat away from him, Ben!" The one-girl audience was shocked. Her expression, as she looked at Zuber, was one of anxiety and doubt. Clarkin began again: "And the terrible fight he had that time ooof!" McGlauflin gave him a hearty dig in the ribs. To make sure that it had registered and created sufficient horrible curiosity in the feminine mind, he repeated it. Private Zuber, guiltless but helpless, help-less, drooped his shoulders further as the terrible ride continued. "Here's the Service Club, dear," he finally said. "Shall we go in and have something to drink?" He gave the three of us a pathetically beseeching be-seeching glance. "They don't sell lemon extract in there, Zuber," I suggested. Clarkin, McCIauflin and I exchanged looks that purposed to show a hidden knowledge of another terrible paragraph para-graph in the collapse of the soul of Benjamin Zuber. We sat at a table in the Service Club drinking the sodas our victim bought for us. Clarkin looked long at his glass of water. "The sight of water," he remarked, re-marked, "reminds me of what the sergeant was telling Ben last week about daily bathing." McGlauflin took pity on the innocent inno-cent Zuber, who was dying for a cause he knew not. "We'll have to be going. We have things to do and I imagine you two young people peo-ple want to enjoy each other's company." com-pany." "Yes," said Zuber's fiancee slowly. slow-ly. "Ben and I have SO much to talk about." Private Zuber shuddered shud-dered and his shoulders slumped tragically. "We certainly have enjoyed the afternoon," crowed Clarkin. "Lovely "Love-ly time." The three of us Clarkin, McGlauflin, McGlauf-lin, and I went whistling down the street, little caring what the mor- "Over in France we used to take our drinking water and swap it to the French for wine." fixed right, too. Looks right distinguished, dis-tinguished, doesn't it?" I looked at the modernistic clock on Ward Beecher's parlor table. I took my eyes off it quickly, lest he tell me again about how he won it at the firemen's convention. "Well, Ward," I said, jumpng desperately des-perately into a gap in the conversation. conver-sation. "I've enjoyed talking to you about my life in the Army, but I have to get along uptown again. I've got " "Sure thing, fellow," said the man. of letters; "it certainly is interesting interest-ing to hear from a soldier in this army. I could listen to you for hours." "Hey, Hargrove," he yelled as I started up the street, "next time you come, remind me to tell you about my job as a pilot in the old war!" When a sergeant tells you that it's the little things in life that are important, im-portant, he's not just saying it. A sergeant who impresses that one corny slice of homely philosophy upon a rookie's mind is giving him one of the most important lessons of his Army life. The soldier has a thousand and one small things to remember in his everyday life. Most of these he forgets at least once before a non-com non-com etches them vividly on his mind with kitchen duty. One of these small things is the row mignt Drmg. to nmsn the afternoon, after-noon, we short-sheeted five bunks in the next barracks. -fa-One of the first people I looked up when I went to Charlotte on leave was Ward Beecher' Threatt, who writes a column of sorts for the Saturday Sat-urday edition of the Charlotte News. "Well, Hargrove," began the postcard post-card philosopher, "how's the Army agreeing with you? I've been aching ach-ing to find out what you've been doing." do-ing." This was a subtle slam at my column. "Well, all things considered " I began. "Nothing like the Army," said Ward Beecher. "I wouldn't take a million dollars for the time I spent in it. Nobody'd offer me a million anyway. Have you got a rating yet?" "Well" I began again. "Lord, did I have my ups and downs! Got all the way up to sergeant ser-geant three times and was busted three times for the good of the service." He paused to light another cigarette and I thought I saw an opening. "Let me tell you about the trip over," I said. "We left the " "We started a crap game on the train," said Threatt, "and I had to wire home for money before I got to Rock Hill. Have you had a payday pay-day yet?" "We'll have one" I started. "On that ocean voyage," he broke in. "I went for fourteen days without a cigarette. I followed one man all around the boat waiting for him to throw away a butt. Instead of throwing throw-ing it on the deck, where I could have scooped it, he flung it over the rail. I followed another and just when I thought he'd be ready to throw it away, I asked him for the butt. The son-of-a-gun told me he had three different kinds of colds and he threw his cigarette over the side. He didn't have another, he said." "Did I tell you about our first day at Fort Bragg?" I asked him. "We landed at Brest," he said, "and we had to walk up one of the longest derned hills I've ever seen before we could drop our suit- identification disk, or "dog tag," of which each man wears a pair. Dog tags are supposed to be worn at all times. A soldier will wear his tag all through the day, taking it off only for a shower. After he takes his shower, he probably will forget to put the tag back on at least, if he has a memory like mine. He never misses it until the next morning morn-ing when he's taking calisthenics. Then he doesn't know that he doesn't have it until he sees the sergeant come over to him, look for the tag and write his name down in the little lit-tle black book. At retreat, the afternoon inspection inspec-tion of the soldiers, I always check everything before I fall out for the onceover. Are my shoes shined? Is my rifle cleaned and oiled? Is my name plate pinned straight over my left shirt pocket? Can I get by with this morning's shave? Do I need a haircut? Are all my pockets buttoned? but-toned? When I make sure that ev-erything ev-erything is as it should be, I sigh with satisfaction and fall out. The battery assembles in a neat precise picture of mass formation' The battery commander orders the top kick to "Prepare the battery for inspection!" The top kick opens the ranks and the lines straighten out to perfection. From where I stand everything looks perfect. The battery commander begins his inspection Until he gets almost to me I feel a most smug to think Uiat for once I've stood retreat and not fallen short somewhere To bask in my own perfection, I sneak forbidden peek at my gun and Then, to my horror, I see tTO. shiny strands of stainless steel just below my belt-the chain on ha dadblasted dollar watch! Your who,, day can be spoiled by doodads such as that marring the neatness and simplicity of your miform. Back . the kitchens, Dulcy! t0 There's one good thing, however about forgettmg to take off yo nonkosher watch chain for retreat or to put on your leggins for reveille or to straighten the shoes under l ' bunk! After the first tim you" re member them! you re TO BE CONTINUED) "Over the hill is an artistic way of referring to unauthorized absence AWOL." geant gets really mad. To fall in, they take their places in ranks. A yardbird is the lowest form of animal life in an Army camp. Under the common law, he is rated as one rank below a buck private. The yardbird, for this misdeed or that shortcoming, spends most of his time in menial labor about the battery area. When Junior refers to a yardbird, you will notice, he is invariably speaking of someone else, was our afternoon off and we were lying around in our barracks, too lazy to dress for a movie or a trip to the Service Club. All of us were, that is, except Private Zuber. With an enthusiasm and energy foreign for-eign to a cook's afternoon off, Zuber Zu-ber was applying a blinding glaze to his shoes. This finished, he connected con-nected an iron and began sharpening sharpen-ing the creases in his trousers. "Going somewhere, I take it," asked Private Clarkin, the Jersey milkman. Private Zuber grinned happily, and nodded. He donned his fresh I clothing, gave his necktie several unnecessary tugs, and combed his hair for the twelfth time. Private McGlauflin, late of the |