The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1916-1920, 1919-04-25
GREETING TO nth
Is WARM BUT WET
Aquitania Brings Home New
York Troops and Relatives
Cheer Them.
PELTED WITH ORANGES
Four Boats Laden With
Friends Hover Round the
Transport in Mist.

Transport in Mist.
A gray dawn and a rainy sky. Streets
and buildings and the boats In the har-
Dor wrapped In a penetrating. persistent
drizzle. And all over the city, from the
Ghetto Of the lower East Side TO Little
Italy In Harlem. from Chinatown to
Washington Heights. eager faces peering
from windows to. see what the misty
morning holds and disappointed voices
saying, In every idiom of the melting
pot and every form OF English that 10
spoken In New York:
Isn't II a pity-and the Seventy-sey-
enth coming in today"
But any weather man who thinks rain
can daunt the hearts that are turning to
the Aquitania, lying under its blanket of
fog far down the bay, little knows the
people for whom those khaki clad lads
on the great chip fought and to whom
they are coming home. Though the
Mayors Committee Of Welcome has pro-
vided craft to carry more than 5000
friends and relatives out to Quarantine
for first glimpse of the incoming Met
ropolitan Division, II falls far short of
the demand.
Long before o'clock, the hour set for
the start of the fiotilla, there is the
sound OF many feet in the wet streets
around the Aquarium, the squeh-sqush
Of feet In mud they do not heed, so
breathlessly anxious are they to get
aboard the Correction, or the Patrol.
or the Bay Ridge. or the Mayor Gaynor.
the four boats that will take the for
tunate ones who have tickets out where
perchance they may look upon (Ikey's)
tPasquale's) (Mike's) (Joe's) (Jlm's)
features and make sure that he really
did come home sound and without
scratch like his last letter said. and
shrek to him that Mas all right and
the baby's fine and there's a good feed
waiting for him. and does he think he
can get leave tonight?
All Patience and Optimism.
Hundreds come without tickets, and
hundreds have to be turned away. But
, they don't go home. Absolutely indif-
ferent to the rain they wait about Pier
and the other docks where the COM
mittees boats are moored hoping
against hope for a chance to go; or
they line the walks and gaze seaward
as II longing could make their eyes
see down beyond the Narrows where
their soldiers are impatiently waiting
for this last leg OF their Journey TO end.
Some have umbrellas, more have not,
but universal spirit of optimism pre-
walls. There is a bubble OF hopeful
talk:
Sure it's goin' to clear" mo. the
rain amt gonig to last Now.
mother, quit worrying. my feet amt
wet" well. I don't care II there
comes deluge, I'm gonig to stick here
till Mrs Jones comes back-she's on the
Correction. and she promised to keep
a lookout for my cousin Sammy that
haven't seen since he sailed eighteen
months ago"
On the four boats Of the welcome
fiotilla, quickly loaded to the limit. it
is very wet but nobody minds. The
feathers on the hats Of the Seventy
seventh's mothers and sisters and wives
and lady friends droop and straighten.
but the wearers are oblivious Those
who can find a few inches OF sheltered
space take it. but these boats are not
built for passengers TO take airings
upon. and mostly the welcome:s are
exposed to the four winds of heaven.
There Is n long wait at the docks
The wireless operator Of the Patrol
sitting in his little coop with soldiers
relatives filling every foot OF room not
taken up BY his apparatus and himself
reports that the Aquitania won't leave
Quarantine till noon probably, Then
there are rumors that the fiotilla is
waiting for the Mayor. who Will head
the expedition in person. II is said
The rumors are baseless to the extent
that It is the Mayors secretary. Grover
Whalen, who Is to do the polite for
the administration aboard the Patrol
Finally, some time after 9 o'clock.
comes Mr.. Whalen, his high silk hat
fondly sheltered beneath a commodlous
umbrella. and mounts to the Captains
house atop the Patrol; and with boom
boom and shrieking OF whistles the well
corners are off.
Wet Feet. hut Not Cold Feet.
The Patrol leads the way. afiutter
with flags from stem to stern, and be-
hind her Correction churns along. so
heavily loaded with excited human
freight that she has more the appear
ance of a pyramid OF faces and coats and
umbrellas and flags than of a mere boat
Of wood and metal. The Mayor Gaynor
and the Bay Ridge follow in the face OF
the fine beating rain.
Everybody has wet feet, but nobody
has cold feet Even the mothers with
gold stars on their sleeves. and there are
many aboard the three boats in the wake
OF the Patrol, even these mothers forget
their sadness and join in the anticipa-
ton Of those other mothers whose sons
ARE returning and whose joys they have
come TO share. There is just one mourn
full face on the Correction, and that be-
longs to n fat little woman whose hat.
trimmed with red roses, is getting so
shRpeless with the wet that she might
well be depressed. But it isn't the roses
that are troubling her. No.
81 vass thinking" she says to a male
friend who inquiries in classic phrase
whats eatin her: II vass thinking,
what II our Able with his t'roat which
was always weak is sittin out in the
rain down there on the troonahino''