J. Thorne Smith, Jr. - Biltmore Oswald

J >> J. Thorne Smith, Jr. >> Biltmore Oswald

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

BILTMORE OSWALD

_THE DIARY OF A HAPLESS RECRUIT_

BY

J. THORNE SMITH, JR.
U.S.N.R.F.

_WITH 31 ILLUSTRATIONS IN BLACK-AND-WHITE_

BY

RICHARD DORGAN
("_Dick Dorgan_")
U.S.N.R.F.

[Illustration]

NEW YORK

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

_Copyright, 1918, by_

_Frederick A. Stokes Company_
_All Rights Reserved_

_Reprinted from_
THE BROADSIDE
A JOURNAL FOR
THE NAVAL RESERVE FORCE

DEDICATION

To my buddies, an unscrupulous, clamorous crew of pirates, as loyal
and generous a lot as ever returned a borrowed dress jumper with dirty
tapes; to numerous jimmy-legs and P.O.'s whose cantankerous tempers
have furnished me with much material for this book; and also to a dog,
an admirable dog whom I choose to call Mr. Fogerty, with apologies to
this dog if in these pages his slave has unwittingly maligned his
character or in any way cast suspicion upon his moral integrity.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"Biltmore Oswald" _Frontispiece_

"'Do you enlist for foreign service?' he snapped. 'Sure,' I
replied, 'it will all be foreign to me'" 2

"The departure was moist" 3

"Hospital apprentice treated me to a shot of Pelham 'hop'" 4

"I feel like a masquerade" 5

"This, I thought, was adding insult to injury" 6

"Mother kept screaming through the wire about my underwear" 7

"A bill from a restaurant for $18.00 worth of past luncheons" 8

"He missed the dirty whites, but I will never be the same" 9

"Fire drill" 10

"This is designed to give us physical poise" 11

"Liberty Party" 14

"Of course I played the game no more" 20

"She was greatly delighted with the Y.M.C.A." 21

"I wasn't so very wrong--just the slight difference between port
and present arms" 24

"The first thing he did was to mix poor dear grandfather a drink"
25

"I was tempted to shoot the cartridge out just to make it lighter"
28

"One fourth of the entire Pelham field artillery passed over my
body" 29

"The procedure, of course, did not go unnoticed" 32

"This war is going to put a lot of Chinamen out of business" 44

"I stood side-ways, thus decreasing the possible area of danger" 45

"I'm a God-fearing sailor man who is doing the best he can to keep
clean" 48

"I took him around and introduced him to the rest of the dogs and
several of the better sort of goats" 49

"I resumed my slumber, but not with much comfort" 52

"I lost completely something in the neighborhood of 10,000 men" 53

"Fogerty came bearing down on me in a cloud of dust" 58

"For the most part, however, he sat quietly on my lap and sniffed"
59

"I carried all the flour to-day that was raised last year in the
southern section of the State of Montana" 76

"'Oh,' said Tony, 'I thought this was a restaurant'" 77

"'I would still remain in a dense fog,' I gasped in a low voice" 82

"'Buddy' I came in and 'Buddy' I go out" 83

BILTMORE OSWALD

_The Diary of A Hapless Recruit_

_Feb. 23d._ "And what," asked the enlisting officer, regarding me as
if I had insulted him, his family and his live stock, "leads you to
believe that you are remotely qualified to join the Navy?"

At this I almost dropped my cane, which in the stress of my patriotic
preoccupation I had forgotten to leave home.

"Nothing," I replied, making a hasty calculation of my numerous
useless accomplishments, "nothing at all, sir, that is, nothing to
speak of. Of course I've passed a couple of seasons at Bar
Harbor--perhaps that--"

"Bar Harbor!" exploded the officer. "Bar! bah! bah--dammit," he broke
off, "I'm bleating."

"Yes, sir," said I with becoming humility. His hostility increased.

"Do you enlist for foreign service?" he snapped.

"Sure," I replied. "It will all be foreign to me."

The long line of expectant recruits began to close in upon us until a
thirsty, ingratiating semi-circle was formed around the officer's
desk. Upon the multitude he glared bitterly.

"Orderly! why can't you keep this line in some sort of shape?"

"Yes, give the old tosh some air," breathed a worthy in my ear as he
retreated to his proper place.

"What did you do at Bar Harbor?" asked the officer, fixing me with his
gaze.

"Oh," I replied easily, "I occasionally yachted."

"On what kind of a boat?" he urged.

"Now for the life of me, sir, I can't quite recall," I replied. "It
was a splendid boat though, a perfect beauty, handsomely fitted up and
all--I think they called her the 'Black Wing.'"

These few little remarks seemed to leave the officer flat. He regarded
me with a pitiful expression. There was pain in his eyes.

"You mean to say," he whispered, "that you don't know what kind of a
boat it was?"

"Unfortunately no, sir," I replied, feeling really sorry for the
wounded man.

"Do you recall what was the nature of your activities aboard this
mysterious craft?" he continued.

"Oh, indeed I do, sir," I replied. "I tended the jib-sheet."

"Ah," said he thoughtfully, "sort of specialized on the jib-sheet?"

"That's it, sir," said I, feeling things taking a turn for the better.
"I specialized on the jib-sheet."

"What did you do to this jib-sheet?" he continued.

"I clewed it," said I promptly, dimly recalling the impassioned
instructions an enthusiastic friend of mine had shunted at me
throughout the course of one long, hot, horrible, confused afternoon
of the past summer--my first, and, as I had hoped at the time, final
sailing experience.

The officer seemed to be lost in reflection. He was probably weighing
my last answer. Then with a heavy sigh he took my paper and wrote
something mysterious upon it.

"I'm going to make an experiment of you," he said, holding the paper
to me. "You are going to be a sort of a test case. You're the worst
applicant I have ever had. If the Navy can make a sailor out of you it
can make a sailor out of anybody"; he paused for a moment, then added
emphatically, "without exception."

"Thank you, sir," I replied humbly.

"Report here Monday for physical examination," he continued, waving my
thanks aside. "And now go away."

[Illustration: "'DO YOU ENLIST FOR FOREIGN SERVICE?' HE SNAPPED.
'SURE,' I REPLIED, 'IT WILL ALL BE FOREIGN TO ME'"]

I accordingly went, but as I did so I fancied I caught the reflection
of a smile lurking guiltily under his mustache. It was the sort of a
smile, I imagined at the time, that might flicker across the grim
visage of a lion in the act of anticipating an approaching trip to a
prosperous native village.

_Feb. 25th._ I never fully appreciated what a truly democratic nation
the United States was until I beheld it naked, that is, until I beheld
a number of her sons in that condition. Nakedness is the most
democratic of all institutions. Knock-knees, warts and chilblains,
bowlegs, boils and bay-windows are respecters of no caste or creed,
but visit us all alike. These profound reflections came to me as I
stood with a large gathering of my fellow creatures in the offices of
the physical examiner.

"Never have I seen a more unpromising candidate in all my past
experience," said the doctor moodily when I presented myself before
him, and thereupon he proceeded to punch me in the ribs with a vigor
that seemed to be more personal than professional. When thoroughly
exhausted from this he gave up and led me to the eye charts, which I
read with infinite ease through long practise in following the World
Series in front of newspaper buildings.

"Eyes all right," he said in a disappointed voice. "It must be your
feet."

These proved to be faultless, as were my ears and teeth.

"You baffle me," said the doctor at last, thoroughly discouraged.
"Apparently you are sound all over, yet, looking at you, I fail to see
how it is possible."

I wondered vaguely if he was paid by the rejection. Then for no
particular reason he suddenly tired of me and left me with all my
golden youth and glory standing unnoticed in a corner. From here I
observed an applicant being put through his ear test. This game is
played as follows: a hospital apprentice thrusts one finger into the
victim's ear while the doctor hurries down to the end of the room and
whispers tragically words that the applicant must repeat. It's a good
game, but this fellow I was watching evidently didn't know the rules
and he was taking no chances.

"Now repeat what I say," said the doctor.

"'Now repeat what I say,'" quoted the recruit.

"No, no, not now," cried the doctor. "Wait till I whisper."

"'No, no, not now. Wait till I whisper,'" answered the recruit,
faithfully accurate.

"Wait till I whisper, you blockhead," shouted the doctor.

"'Wait till I whisper, you blockhead,'" shouted the recruit with equal
heat.

"Oh, God!" cried the doctor despairingly.

"'Oh, God!'" repeated the recruit in a mournful voice.

This little drama of cross purposes might have continued indefinitely
had not the hospital apprentice begun to punch the guy in the ribs,
shouting as he did so:

"Wait a minute, can't you?"

At which the recruit, a great hulk of a fellow, delivered the hospital
apprentice a resounding blow in the stomach and turned indignantly to
the doctor.

"That man's interfering," he said in an injured voice. "Now that ain't
fair, is it, doc?"

"You pass," said the doctor briefly, producing his handkerchief and
mopping his brow.

"Well, what are you standing around for?" he said a moment later,
spying me in my corner.

"Oh, doctor," I cried, delighted, "I thought you had forgotten me."

"No," said the doctor, "I'll never forget you. You pass. Take your
papers and clear out."

I can now feel with a certain degree of security that I am in the
Navy.

_Feb. 26th._ I broke the news to mother to-day and she took it like a
little gentleman, only crying on twelve different occasions. I had
estimated it much higher than that.

After dinner she read me a list of the things I was to take with me to
camp, among which were several sorts of life preservers, an electric
bed warmer and a pair of dancing pumps.

"Why not include spurs?" I asked, referring to the pumps. "I'd look
very crisp in spurs, and they would help me in climbing the rigging."

"But some officer might ask you to a dance," protested mother.

"Mother," I replied firmly, "I have decided to decline all social
engagements during my first few weeks in camp. You can send the pumps
when I write for them."

A card came to-day ordering me to report on March 1st. Consequently I
am not quite myself.

_Feb. 27th._ Mother hurried into my room this morning and started to
pack my trunk. She had gotten five sweaters, three helmets and two
dozen pairs of socks into it before I could stop her. When I explained
to her that I wasn't going to take a trunk she almost broke down.

"But at least," she said, brightening up, "I can go along with you and
see that you are nice and comfortable in your room."

"You seem to think that I am going to some swell boarding school,
mother," I replied from the bed. "You see, we don't have rooms to
ourselves. I understand that we sleep in bays."

"Don't jest," cried mother. "It's too horrible!"

Then I explained to her that a bay was a compartment of a barracks in
which eight human beings and one petty officer, not quite so human,
were supposed to dwell in intimacy and, as far as possible, concord.

This distressed poor mother dreadfully. "But what are you going to
take?" she cried.

"I'm going to take a nap," said I, turning over on my pillow. "It will
be the last one in a bed for a long, long time."

At this mother stuffed a pair of socks in her mouth and left the room
hastily.

Polly came in to-night and I kissed her on and off throughout the
evening on the strength of my departure. This infuriated father, but
mother thought it was very pretty. However, before going to bed he
gave me a handsome wrist watch, and grandfather, pointing to his game
leg, said:

"Remember the Mexican War, my boy. I fought and bled honorably in that
war, by gad, sir!"

I know for a fact that the dear old gentleman has never been further
west than the Mississippi River.

_Feb. 28th (on the train)._ I have just gone through my suit-case and
taken out some of mother's last little gifts such as toilet water, a
padded coat hanger, one hot water bottle, some cough syrup, two pairs
of ear-bobs, a paper vest and a blue pokerdotted silk muffler. She put
them in when I wasn't looking. I have hidden them under the seat. May
the Lord forgive me for a faithless son.

The departure was moist, but I managed to swim through. I am too
excited to read the paper and too rattle-brained to think except in
terrified snatches. I wonder if I look different. People seem to be
regarding me sympathetically. I recognize two faces on this train. One
belongs to Tony, the iceman on our block; the other belongs to one
named Tim, a barkeep, if I recall rightly, in a hotel I have
frequently graced with my presence. I hope their past friendship was
not due to professional reasons. It would be nice to talk over old
times with them in camp, for I have frequently met the one in the
morning after coming home from the other.

[Illustration: "THE DEPARTURE WAS MOIST"]

_March 1st._ Subjected myself to the intimate scrutiny of another
doctor this morning. I used my very best Turkish bath manners. They
failed to impress him. Hospital apprentice treated me to a shot of
Pelham "hop." It is taken in the customary manner, through the
arm--very stimulating. A large sailor held me by the hand for fully
fifteen minutes. Very embarrassing! He made pictures of my fingers and
completely demolished my manicure. From there I passed on to another
room. Here a number of men threw clothes at me from all directions.
The man with the shoes was a splendid shot. I am now a sailor--at
least, superficially. My trousers were built for Charlie Chaplin. I
feel like a masquerade.

[Illustration: "HOSPITAL APPRENTICE TREATED ME TO A SHOT OF PELHAM
'HOP'"]

[Illustration: "I FEEL LIKE A MASQUERADE"]

A gang of recruits shouted "twenty-one days" at me as I was being led
to Mess Hall No. 1. The poor simps had just come in the day before and
had not even washed their leggings yet. I shall shout at other
recruits to-morrow, though, the same thing that they shouted at me
to-day.

Our P.O. is a very terrifying character. He is a stern but just man, I
take it.

He can tie knots and box the compass and say "pipe down" and
everything. Gee, it must be nice to be a real sailor!

[Illustration: "THIS, I THOUGHT, WAS ADDING INSULT TO INJURY"]

_March 2d._ Fell out of my hammock last night and momentarily
interrupted the snoring contest holding sway. I was told to "pipe
down" in Irish, Yiddish, Third Avenue and Bronx. This, I thought, was
adding insult to injury, but could not make any one take the same view
of it. I hope the thing does not become a habit with me. I form habits
so readily. In connection with snoring I have written the following
song which I am going to send home to Polly. I wrote it in the
Y.M.C.A. Hut this afternoon while crouching between the feet of two
embattled checker players. I'm going to call it "The Rhyme of the
Snoring Sailor." It goes like this:

I

The mother thinks of her sailor son
As clutched in the arms of war,
But mother should listen, as I have done,
To this same little, innocent sailor son
Sprawl in his hammock and snore.

Oh, the sailor man is a rugged man,
The master of wind and wave,
And poets sing till the tea-rooms ring
Of his picturesque, deep sea grave,
And they likewise write of the "Storm at Night"
When the numerous north winds roar,
But more profound is the dismal sound
Of a sea-going sailor's snore.

II

Oh, mothers knit for their sailor sons
Socks for their nautical toes,
But mothers should list to the frightful noise
Made by their innocent sailor boys
By the wind they blow through their nose.

Oh, life at sea is wild and free
And greatly to be admired,
But I would sleep both sound and deep
At night when I'm feeling tired.

So here we go with a yo! ho! ho!
While the waves and the tempests soar,
An artist can paint a shrew as a saint,
But not camouflage on a snore.

III

Oh, mothers, write to your sons at sea;
Write to them, I implore,
A letter as earnest as it can be,
Containing a delicate, motherly plea,
A plea for them not to snore.

Oh, I take much pride in my trousers wide,
The ladies all think them sweet,
And I must admit that I love to sit
In a chair and relieve my feet.
Avast! Belay! and we're bound away
With our hearts lashed fast to the fore,
But when mermaids sleep
In their bowers deep,
Do you think that the sweet things snore?

Our company commander spoke to us this morning in no uncertain terms.
He seems to be such a serious man. There is a peculiar quality in his
voice, not unlike the tone of a French 75 mm. gun. You can easily hear
everything he says--miles away. We rested this afternoon.

_March 3d._ Sunday--a day of rest, for which I gave, in the words of
our indefatigable Chaplain, "three good, rollicking cheers." Some
folks are coming up to see me this afternoon. I hear I must moo
through the fence at them like a cow. (Later.) The folks have just
left. Mother kept screaming through the wire about my underwear. She
seemed to have it on her brain. There were several young girls
standing right next to her. I really felt I was no longer a bachelor.
Why do mothers lay such tremendous stress on underwear? They seem to
believe that a son's sole duty to his parents consists in publicly
announcing that he is clad in winter flannels.

[Illustration: "MOTHER KEPT SCREAMING THROUGH THE WIRE ABOUT MY
UNDERWEAR"]

Polly drove up for a moment with Joe Henderson. I hope the draft
gets hold of that bird. They were going to have tea at the Biltmore
when they got back to the city. I almost bit the end off of a sentry's
bayonet when I heard this woeful piece of news. Liberty looks a long
way off.

I made an attempt to write some letters in the Y.M.C.A. this evening
but gave up before the combined assault of a phonograph, a piano, and
a flanking detachment of checker players. Several benches fell on me
and I went to the mat feeling very sorry for myself.

_March 4th._ The morning broke badly. I lashed my hand to my hammock
and was forced to call on the P.O. to extricate me. He remarked, with
ill-disguised bitterness, that I could think of more ineffectual
things to do than any rookie it had been his misfortune to meet. I
told him that I didn't have to think of them, they just came
naturally.

Last night I was nearly frightened out of my hammock by awakening and
gazing into the malevolent eye of my high-powered, twin-six wrist
watch. I thought for a moment that the Woolworth tower had crawled
into bed with me. It gave me such a start. I must get used to my wrist
watch--also wearing a handkerchief up my sleeve. I feel like the sweet
kid himself now.

Drill all day. My belt fell off and tripped me up. Why do such things
always happen to me? Somebody told us to do squads left and it looked
as if we were playing Ring Around Rosie. Then we performed a fiendish
and complicated little quadrille called a "company square." I found
myself, much to my horror, on the inside of the contraption walking
directly behind the company commander. It was a very delicate
situation for a while. I walked on my tip-toes so that he wouldn't
hear me. Had he looked around I know I'd have dropped my gun and lit
out for home and mother.

Forgot to take my hat off in the mess room. I was reminded, though, by
several hundred thoughtful people.

_March 5th._ Stood for half an hour in the mail line. Got one letter.
A bill from a restaurant for eighteen dollars' worth of past
luncheons. I haven't the heart to write more.

[Illustration: "A BILL FROM A RESTAURANT FOR $18.00 WORTH OF PAST
LUNCHEONS"]

_March 6th._ Bag inspection. I almost put my eye out at right hand
salute. However, my bag looked very cute indeed, and although he
didn't say anything, I feel sure the inspecting officer thought mine
was the best. I had a beautiful embroidered handkerchief holder,
prominently displayed, which I am sure must have knocked him cold. He
missed the dirty white, but I will never be the same.

[Illustration: "HE MISSED THE DIRTY WHITES, BUT I WILL NEVER BE THE
SAME"]

Fire drill! My hammock came unlashed right in front of a C.P.O. and he
asked me if I was going to sleep in it on the spot. It was a very
inspiring scene. Particularly thrilling was the picture I caught of a
very heavy sailor picking on a poor innocent looking little fire
extinguisher. He ran the thing right over my foot. I apologized, as
usual. I discovered that I have been putting half instead of marlin
hitches in my hammock, but not before the inspecting officer did. He
seemed very upset about it. When he asked me why I only put six
hitches in my hammock instead of seven, I replied that my rope was
short. His reply still burns in my memory. What eloquence! What
earnestness! What a day!

[Illustration: "FIRE DRILL"]

_March 7th._ Second jab to-morrow. I am too nervous to write to-day.
More anon.

_March 16th._ Life in the Navy is just one round of engagements to
keep. Simply splendid! All we have to do is to get up at 6 o'clock in
the morning when it is nice and dark and play around with the cutest
little hammock imaginable. When you have arrived at the most
interesting part of this game, the four hitch period, and you are
wondering whether you are going to beat your previous record and get
six instead of five, the bugle blows and immediately throws you into a
state of great indecision. The problem is whether to finish the
hammock and be reported late for muster or to attend muster and be
reported for not having finished your hammock. The time spent in
considering this problem usually results in your trying to do both and
in failing to accomplish either, getting reported on two counts. Any
enlisted man is entitled to play this game and he is sure of making a
score. After running around innumerable miles of early morning camp
scenery and losing several buttons from your new trousers, you come
back and do Greek dances for a man who aspires to become a second
Mordkin or a Mr. Isadora Duncan. This is all very sweet and I am sure
the boys play prettily together. First he dances, then we dance; then
he interprets a bird and we all flutter back at him. This being done
to his apparent satisfaction, we proceed to crawl and grind and weave
and wave in a most extraordinary manner. This is designed to give us
physical poise to enable us to go aloft in a graceful and pleasing
manner. After this dancing in the dew you return for a few more rounds
with your hammock, clean up your bay and stand in line for breakfast.
After breakfast we muster again and a gentleman talks to us in a voice
that would lead you to believe that he thought we were all in hiding
somewhere in New Rochelle. Then there are any number of things to do
to divert our minds--scrub hammocks, pick up cigarettes, drill, hike
and attend lectures. As a rule we do all of these things. From 5 p.m.
until 8:45 p.m. if we are unfortunate enough not to have a lecture
party we are free to give ourselves over to the riotous joy of the
moment, which consists of listening to a phonograph swear bitterly at
a piano long past its prime. The final act of the drama of the day is
performed on the hammock--an animated little sketch of arms and legs
conducted along the lines of Houdini getting into a strait-jacket, or
does he get out of them? I don't know, perhaps both. Anyway, you get
what I mean.

[Illustration: "THIS IS DESIGNED TO GIVE US PHYSICAL POISE"]

_March 17th._ This spring weather is bringing the birds out in great
quantities. They bloomed along the fence today like a Ziegfeld chorus
on an outing. One girl carried on a coherent conversation with six
different fellows at once and left each of them feeling that he alone
had been singled out for her particular favor. As a matter of fact I
was flirting with her all the time and I could tell by the very way
she looked that she would have much rather been talking to me. Last
week I had to convince mother that I was wearing my flannels; this
week I had to convince her I still had them on. The only way to
satisfy her, I suppose, is to appear before her publicly in them.
Poor, dear mother, she told me she had written the doctor up here
asking him not to squirt my arm full of those horrid little germs any
more. She said I came from a good, clean family, and had been bathed
once a week all my life, except the time when I had the measles and
then it wasn't advisable. I am sure this must have cheered the doctor
up tremendously. She also asked him to be sure to see that I got my
meals regularly. I can see him now taking me by the hand and leading
me to the mess-hall. When I suggested to mother that she write
President Wilson asking him to be sure to see that my blankets didn't
fall off at night, she said that I was a sarcastic, ungrateful boy.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8