The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1943-07-16

OWulOiSu as Idpluly DIS Tie OIlc at
the dispensary, life would have love-
liness to sell above its private con-
sumption stock. First you're fifteen
feet from the door, then (whiff)
you're inside. Then you're stand
ing between two orderlies and the
show is on.
The one on my left scratched my
arm and applied the smallpox virus.
The only thing that kept me from
keeling over was the hypodermic
needle loaded with typhoid. germs,
which propped up my right arm.
From the dispensary we went to
huge warehouse of building by
the railroad tracks. The place
looked like Goldenberg's Basement
on busy day. A score of filters
measured necks, waists, inseams,
| heads, and feet.
My shoe size, the clerk yelled
down the line, was ten and half.
II beg your pardon" / prompted,
II wear a size nine"
Forgive me-" he said, a trife
weary, ''the expression is 4 wore
| size nine These shoes are to walk
in, not to make you look like Gin
derella. You say size nine; your
foot says ten and a half"
We filed down a long counter,
picking up our allotted khaki and
denims, barrack bags and raincoats,
mess kits and tent halves Then we
were led into large room, where
we laid aside the vestments of civil
life and donned our new garments.
While stood there, wondering
what I was supposed to do next,
an attendant caught me from the
rear and strapped to my shoulders
what felt like the Old Man of the
Mountain after forty days.
''Straighten up, soldier" the at
tendant said, "and git off the floor.
That's nothing but full field pack,
such as you will tote many miles
before you leave this mans army.
Now want you to walk over to
that ramp and over it. That's just to
see if your shoes are comfortable. I"
with these Oregon boots and this
burden of misery" I told him firm
ly, 81 couldn't even walk over to
the thing. AS for climbing over it,
not even an alpenstock, a burro
train, and two St. Bernard dogs
complete with brandy could get me
over it."
There was something in his quiet,
steady answering glance that re-
assured me. I went over the ramp
in short order. On the double, I
think the Army calls it.
From there we went to the thea
ter, where we were given intelli-
| gence tests, and to the classifica-
ton Office, where we were inter-
viewed by patient and considerable
corporals.
Sand what did you do in civil
life?" my corporal asked me.
81 was feature editor of the Char
lotte News"
"And just what sort of work did
you do, Private Hargrove? Just give
me a brief idea"
Seven minutes later, I had fin
ished answering that question.
Lets just put down here, 'Edi-
torial worker" He sighed compass
sionately. Sand what did you do
before all that?"
I told him. I brought in the pub
licity work, the soda-jerking, the
theater ushering, and the printers
deviling.
Private Hargrove, he said, ''the
army is just what you have needed
to ease the burdens of your exist
ence. Look no farther, Private Har-
grove, you have found home"
This was a lovely morning. We
began at daybreak and devoted all
the time until noon to enjoying the
beauties of nature. We had a drill
sergeant to point them out to us.
We marched a full twenty miles
without leaving the drill field.
Lunch, needless to say, was deli
| cious.
We fell into bed, after lunch, de-
termined to spend the afternoon in
dreamland. Two minutes later, that
internal whistle blew. Melvin Piel,
guardhouse lawyer for Company A,
explained it all on the way down.
stairs. We were going to be as
signed to our permanent stations.
l fell in and corporal led us off
down the street. I could feel the
California palm trees tanning my
face. We stopped at Barracks II
and the corporal led us inside.
"Do we 60 to California, cor
poral?" I asked.
''Naah," he said.
''Where do we go?" asked him,
little disappointed.
| ''To the garbage rack" he said.
Double quick" He thumbed John
ny Lisk and me to the back of the
barracks.
At the garbage rack we found
three extremely fragrant garbage
cans. Outside, we found more. Lisk
and I, citizen-soldiers, stared at
them. The overcheerful private to
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