The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1918-11-23

the Fall River Line pier at New
port, r. l. And especially not on g
dismal evening. The dingy, low
buildings and sheds were wrapped
IN the raw murk swept In from the
sea The fog almost hid the lights
or the torpedo station across a stretch
or black water from the pier. Up
the bay red lighthouse eye winked
dimly through the mist. cold driz-
zie kept the few early arrivals for
the New York boat in the waiting
room. Outside n dozen loungers hug
ged sheltering walls, coat collars
turned up against the wet.
VI was getting along toward $780,
+ "A Few more passengers appeared
growing at the weather. Then, down
Long wharf from the city, came swing
Ing long line Of blue. They were
new-made sailors from the training
station, 100 of them. bound for New
York and thence to sea; off on their
first service. The men broke ranks
when they reached the wharf, and
scattered about with pea-coat collars
around their ears, laughing, skylark-
ing. their youthful exuberance proof
for time against night like this.
School was done-and their work lay
before them.
! Here and there a lucky boy had
somebody to tell him good-by-a friend
made In town, perhaps; sometimes a
mother or q father who lived near
enough to be on hand for the parting
But most Of them had nobody. In a
little while the laughter died, though
IN few irrepressibles kept up their
'horseplay. They were very young,
these boys. And they were going some
where very far away. 1t was the big
adventure really beginning, and hard
1y one failed to be touched little by |
fthe seriousness Of 1t.
Into the crowd on the wharf there |
dressed like an officer, except that
mis- cap bore no insignia, nor his sleeve
amy braid. From group to group he
Invent, with a CHEEKY Hello, boys"
and the men, with shouts and calls
one to another, flocked after him as
sif following some new sort Of military
Pied Piper. The man In khaki climbed
On a baggage truck. He raised his
hand and silence came upon the blue
clad throng gathered before him.
"The Long, Long TRAIL" he called.
Ready -"
And then the thrill! Out into the
thick night, out over the old harbor.
foated the strains Of that wistful cho-
rus, borne by those earnest, boyish
voices:
There's a long, long trail unwinding
. Into the land Of my dreams;
Where the nightingales are singing
-, And the white moon beams; II
There's long, long night of waiting /
Until my dreams all come true.
TIL the day when I'll be going down
The long, long trail with you" |
And after that, the old, simple melo-
dies Of the South and the swinging ,
tunes Of another. and a different. war
River" "0ld Black joe" ,
tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are
Marching" and the stirring, meas 9
ured: s
mine eyes have seen the glory of the 6
coming Of the Lord, 9
He Is trampling out the vintage where
the grapes Of wrath are g
stored O
carried inspiringly by the full vol o
-me Of those fresh voices.
The man In khaki. beating time
from his truck, under the dim lights f
Of the freight shed, sang too. And t
he mass Of faces, turned up to his n
beneath the fat blue caps, shone with h
.he fervor he inspired in them.
Through the fog up the bay doomed h
the white, lighted bulk of the boat, Il