The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1944-09-14
Hello, fresh meat" one of these


Hello, fresh meat" one of these
greeted them.
From the highway, three miles out
of town, the entrance TO the camp
was no more than a dirt side road
where two armed guards stood and a
sign declared this to be military
reservation and that no admittance
was allowed.
Having been invited, they were ad-
nitted.
After passing through a quarter of
q mile of thick woods, they came to
a great cleared space in which stccd
a hidden city. There were many
wooden buildings, some of them of
one story, others of two stories. Dust
rose from the passing of their own
and other vehicles, and from march
ing feet.
The bus stopped before a building
which had sign on it saying, In
duction Checking Station" Standing
up or sitting on the ground before
this were perhaps fifty more selec.
tees. They stared at the newcom.
ers who descended from the bus.
No one spoke in the atmosphere of
patient waiting and weary anxiety.
Mr.. Wrinkle looked about, some
what at a loss. He didn't know
what to do next.
A tall, thickset Sergeant, holding
sheaf of papers in his hand, came
out of the building. He looked at
the new arrivals and asked huskily,
"Who's the leader?"
Mr.. Wrinkle went forward. The
Sergeant gazed down at him. Mr..
Wrinkle saw the mouse-recognition
look come into the mans face, the
same way it showed in Amy's. Then
the Sergeant took on an expression
as If to say he didn't mean to be
surprised at anything sent to him.
He inquired, "Got 'em all. John?"
Mr.. Wrinkle said he had and turned
over the group papers. This re-
ieved him of his command. He
was leader no longer. but just
selectee like any other. Because of
this, and because of the mouse-look
he had been given, he felt Debated
and not in the least like lion.
The Sergeant went inside. Mr..
Winkle waited with the others. Their
eyes went frequently to the door.
What smiles there were on any faces
were nervous ones.
The Sergeant came out again. In
a foghorn voice he began calling
names. It was nearly an hour, dur
ing which other busses arrived, be-
fore the Springville men were
reached.
Mr.. Winkle found himself in a
small room passing down line of
soldier clerks sitting at desks. In
place of his own papers, an infor-
nation card was given to him, which
he was instructed to hang around
his neck by the cord attached. Thus
ticketed, he took his place in line
down the hall, and finally into an
enormous room where many men
were in the process of being exam
ined.
Here, Mr.. Winkle saw, was where
his fate would be decided. He was
told to drop his bag by the wall
under clothing hook, and strip.
Shivering, he stood in line clad
only in his socks and shoes and in
formation card. 1t was humiliating
when he compared his skinny ply
sique with the more robust bodies
about him. Several men glanced
at him as if to say he didn't amount
to much.
He began to run a gantlet of doc
tors and medical assistants. Each
doctor had one part of the body to
examine. Mr.. Winkle was accus-
toned to having his family physi-
clan make something of fuss over
him, cajoling him, and treating him
like living, breathing, human be-
ing instead of skeleton within and
around which was gathered a cer-
tain amount of flesh and certain or
gans. Now he felt like an automo-
bile being put together on an assem-
bly, line in a factory.
His card was taken away from
him and in its place there was
daubed in iodine number on his
chest. That, he was sure, was the
final ignominy. He was questioned,
weighed, measured, poked, tapped,
and the inner workings of his struc-
ture listened to.
He was asked to read chart with
out his glasses and with them. He
regretted each letter he made out,
but he couldn't, as he had half