The Brighton Boys in the Trenches Read online

  CHAPTER II

  JOINING HANDS WITH UNCLE SAM

  Captain Pratt, recruiting officer, glanced up to see two young fellowsapproaching, evidently with some intention of engaging his services. Andfor the big and important cause he was appointed to aid he was more thanwilling that his services should be engaged, heavily engaged, at any andall times.

  The world was at war; his beloved country was mixed up in this contest,hopefully for the right and as humanely as it is possible to be whenfighting. It required soldiers to fight and men and more men and stillmore men out of which to make these soldiers which were to win in aglorious cause for liberty and honor.

  And so, because of the position of his office and the considerablenumber of students coming to him there, he may have been a little lesscareful about sticking to the precise regulations concerning very youngapplicants. The captain had a weakness for youngsters, being somethingof an overgrown boy himself at times, and this may have had much to dowith his leniency.

  The upshot of it was that, a little while later, after some informationhad been exchanged, questions had been asked mostly on the part of thecaptain, and oaths had been taken, the military gentleman dismissed thetwo young fellows with this parting injunction:

  "Now you understand. Both of you report to the commanding officer atCamp Wheeler as soon as you can arrange matters. Come to me for cards tohim. I need hear nothing more from you, Whitcomb, as you say yourguardian will be willing and anxious for you to enlist. I'll want aletter of consent from your father, Flynn. Flynn? That might be somewhatof a Celtic name, eh?"

  "Yiss, sorr!" said Roy, standing very straight and saluting in the mostapproved manner, at which the captain laughed heartily.

  "Well, go your ways, lads, and report to me as soon as you can get awayfrom school in the proper manner. I rather think that Uncle Sam can makevery promising soldiers of you both, especially considering the shootingpractice you've had."

  "Say, Herb," said Roy, as soon as the two had got well away from theoffice, "that guy thought I could shoot, too, but I didn't tell him so.I only bragged you up."

  "Too much; I don't like it, Roy. But it's natural; you will blarney, youdear, old chump. You made it so strong that I guess he thought we're anentire regiment of experts. Well, you can't help it now. The only thingto do is for you to learn to shoot."

  "But could I, Herb?"

  "Of course."

  "Glory be! Hearken, me lad! Come along. I'm goin' to get me a rifle andammunition and you get your gun and we'll go out and blow the face offof nature. I'll buy your ammunition and you teach me; see? Come on."

  In vain Herbert protested that it was needless to spend money for a gun;that Roy could practise with Herb's own, a splendid repeating weapon, of.30-caliber, won by the boy at the individual shoot of the InterstatePrep School Match a month before.

  No; Roy must have his own gun.

  From tiny boyhood, when a chummy father had put into the youngster'shands his first air-gun, Herbert had shown a marked genius, if it may beso called, for aiming straight and knowing just when to press atrigger. Then, with his first cartridge gun, a light target 22, which hehad brought to school and taken on many a hike into the broad country,the boy had become, as Roy put it, almost unreasonably expert, knockingacorns and chestnut burs from high limbs, cutting tall weeds and hangingvines in half with the first shot, tossing a stone or a tin can in airwith one hand and nine times out of ten plunking it fairly before itreached the ground.

  But with all this ability to put a bullet just where he wanted it to go,the lad was unwilling to use his skill in taking the life of anycreature. He would not kill even a hawk or a crow, though sometimessorely tempted to try a shot at such birds on the wing. Once he sat on alog, with rifle across his knees, while a fox leaped on a fence notforty yards away and stood balancing and curious for half a minute.

  "We've got no real right to kill these things," he said to Roy, who wasalways with him. "They've got as much right to live as we have and theywere here before we were. A fellow might shoot something if he werehungry, but not decently just for sport. These animals, birds andthings, are getting too scarce as it is."

  The town supported a first-class hardware store and its stock of gunswas sufficient for the most exacting selection to be made therefrom.When the boys reached their room in the dormitory an hour later and thenew gun was unpacked, Herb took it up and toyed with it lovingly. It wasone of the most modern of sporting rifles, also shooting a 30-30-160cartridge, the first figure referring to the caliber, the second to thegrains of powder by weight and the third to grains of lead. Theworkmanship, the finish, the design were perfect.

  Herb, perforce, must make potent remarks concerning the weapon.

  "Now you have something that you can rely on whenever you look over thebarrel and press the trigger in the right way. It'll do the trick andnever fail you if you treat it as it deserves; keep it clean. Rememberto do that. We'll take the stock off, unlimber the breech, warm all theparts and run melted vaseline all through it; then, when it gets cold,that sticks in there as grease, which beats any liquid oil all topieces. In the barrel only always use but a drop or two of oil on yourrag or brush and with that brass-jointed cleaning rod you can clean fromeither end. If you use an iron rod, clean only from the breech end; I'llbet they'll tell us that in the army.

  "And, Roy, you've got to be careful how you shoot, what you shoot at andwhat's back of it around here. If it goes off accidentally some oldtime, or there isn't anything back of what you shoot at to stop thebullet, why, the blamed thing is apt to go on and kill a cow in the nextcounty. These steel-jacketed bullets will punch through six inches ofseasoned oak, twice as much pine, and clean through an ordinary tree ofgreen wood. But say, Roy, you don't care how you spend your money; athousand cartridges! I'll use about two hundred of them and I want topay you----"

  "You go plumb to smash; will you? Pay nothin'! Ain't you goin' to teachme how to hit a bumble-bee at half a mile? We'll start to-morrow andwork regular until Commencement."

  It was even so, except the bumble-bee stunt. Excellence generallyfollows determination where all else is favorable, and Roy possessedgood eyes, steady nerves and faith in his own ability and that of histeacher. The result was that before the cartridges were half spent theone-time disinterested greenhorn was that no longer; he could put tenshots within a six-inch circle and do it pretty quickly, too, and he hadcompletely fallen in love with what he called "the fun and fine art offirearms; hooray!"

  But however interested he became in his own efforts, it was as nothingto his intense delight over Herbert's wonderful skill. He ran back andforth between target and gunner like a playful dog chasing a thrownstick.

  "Ye've got the center pushed into one big hole now!" he would shout,"and ye've got only one or mebbe two outside the center and none nearthe ring! It's wonderful! I might shoot lead enough into yon old quarrybank to make a ten-million-dollar mine of it and never be as certain ofhittin' the center as what you are each time you let her go. Shooters,like poets, are sure born and not made."

  The departure from dear old Brighton, the saying of farewells that mightbe final, the leaving of scenes that would always be reminiscent ofhappy days and worthy efforts with benefits for life, came all toosoon.

  With his one bag and gun case, his sole possessions, Herbert Whitcombstood on the station platform waiting until Roy Flynn had checked hisnumerous trunks and boxes. He glanced again at the letter from CaptainPratt, the recruiting officer, introducing both boys toBrigadier-General Harding in command at Camp Wheeler. The captain hadinvited them to peruse it and emotional Roy had been greatly tickled bythe contents. It read in part:

  "I write you about these boys because they are younger than we have been accepting them, those from the same school heretofore having been seniors. But these are manly fellows, athletes in training, spending much of their time out of doors on long hikes and week-end camping trips and, most important of all, they are both very exce
llent shots, Whitcomb excelling almost anything that I have ever heard of, as I have it from good authority. In view of the Special Inquiry No. 10, June 1st, I believed this would interest you."

  Special Inquiry, eh? The captain had not explained that. It was probablya matter for higher authorities to explain and no doubt they would hearof it again. Surely it related to shooting, and most certainly theability to handle a gun much better than the average man must be animportant thing in relation to soldiering.

  Roy returned just as the train pulled in and the two went aboard. Theboys were now on their way for a few days' visit to the elegant Flynnhome and, from a previous experience, Herb knew he would be made mostwelcome.

  After that came the journey and the introduction to Camp Wheeler.