Uncle Sam's Boys as Sergeants: or, Handling Their First Real Commands
The young soldier felt that he was half suspected, and he felt all the awkwardness of innocence – an awkwardness that real guilt seldom displays.
"Men," it was Sergeant Hupner's voice breaking the stillness now, "if you each want to clear your own individual selves you will step forward and volunteer to have your persons and your belongings searched."
Instantly the men moved forward, and Lieutenant Holmes glanced away from Hal Overton. The lieutenant's survey of the lad's face had not been in the least accusing, but merely a keen look of inquiry.
"All the men in the room have come forward and are willing to be searched, sir," reported the sergeant.
"Good enough, Sergeant, since they volunteer, but I would not have them forced without an order from the post commander. Sergeant, will you undertake the search?"
"Yes, sir; shall I have the corporals assist me?"
"Yes, Sergeant, and I will lend a general oversight at the same time."
That search occupied some forty minutes. Not only were the persons of the men searched, but their chests and all their belongings. Hupner and his two boyish young corporals asked Lieutenant Holmes to search them himself, which the officer of the day did.
"There doesn't appear to be a chance that Private Green's money is in this room, or in the possession of any man in the room," remarked Lieutenant Holmes at last. "Green, you should have taken sensible advice and deposited your money, either with the paymaster or at a bank."
"I shall, sir, if I ever get it back," replied William Green mournfully.
"Well, there appears to be nothing more that I can do," continued Lieutenant Holmes. "However, I will return to the guard house and call up the commanding officer over the telephone, reporting the matter. Let your men go to bed, Sergeant, but you will remain up until either I return or send you some word through the corporal of the guard."
After the officer of the day had gone out, the men of the squad room looked from one to another in bewilderment.
"If any fellow took my money for a joke," announced Private William Green, "I'll call it all off if he'll be kind enough to return it."
No one accepted the offer.
"It's gone, all right, Green, evidently, and serves you right," said Sergeant Hupner gruffly.
In the course of a few minutes the corporal of the guard came back to inform Sergeant Hupner that a guard would be set, both in the corridor and outside, to prevent any man from leaving this squad room during the night. In the morning, immediately following first call to reveille, Colonel North, his adjutant and the officer of the day would visit the squad room together.
"And that's all there is to it, for to-night, men," announced Sergeant Hupner. "Every man in bed now, for I'm going to switch off the light."
Ten minutes later some of the soldiers were asleep, but not all, for presently Hupner's strong military voice boomed through the room:
"Stop that whispering! Silence until first call goes in the morning."
After first call to reveille did sound in the morning barely sixty seconds passed when the door was opened to Colonel North and the two officers accompanying him.
Then, indeed, there was a thorough examination. Each man in the room was questioned keenly by the colonel himself.
"Corporal Overton, how do you account for that revolver being in your bed?"
Colonel North held up the weapon. It was an ordinary service revolver, such as is worn by an orderly when on duty without rifle, and there were many such revolvers in barracks. No soldier was supposed to have one of these revolvers, except by orders, yet it would be easy enough for any soldier to get one by stealth.
"I can't account for it, sir," Hal answered. "I didn't have it myself, or put it in the bed, and I can only guess that some one else did."
"Why should any one else do that, Corporal?"
"Possibly, sir, with a view to making me appear guilty."
"Do you suspect any one in particular?"
"No, sir; I can't imagine why any man in the room, or in the battalion, should want to do it."
"You understand, Corporal Overton, that you are not under any charge, or even suspicion, of guilt in the matter," continued the commanding officer, for Hal in truth was esteemed much too fine a young soldier to be suspected by his officers in the present case.
"Thank you, sir," Hal replied.
The inquiry was soon over and proved as resultless as that made alone by Lieutenant Greg Holmes in the middle of the night. The officers left and the men prepared to hasten out for breakfast formation.
"I never thought Overton would do a trick like that," remarked a low voice behind the young corporal, but Hal heard it.
"Oh, you can't tell. Sometimes these quiet fellows are the worst. Still waters run deep, you know."
"I suppose other fellows in the squad room are thinking the same," thought Hal, his heart throbbing with pain.
He more than half guessed the truth – that the seed of suspicion against him was already sown – that henceforth he would be watched by nearly all eyes.
CHAPTER IV
LIEUTENANT ALGY'S INSPIRATION
LIEUTENANT ALGY FERRERS, the picture of dejection, sat staring across his rather tiny parlor in bachelor quarters at smiling Lieutenant Prescott.
"I thought the Army was a place for gentlemen," murmured Algy aghast.
"At last accounts it was, and I believe still is," replied the West Pointer, with a smile.
"But consider that beastly schedule of the day's work that you've been explaining to me!"
"What's wrong with it?" asked Lieutenant Prescott patiently.
"What's first – what did you call it?"
"First call to reveille, at 5.50 in the morning?"
"Yes; what an utterly impossible time for any gentleman to be out of bed. Unless," added Algy with a sudden bright thought, "he stays up until then, and goes to bed after the beastly row is over."
"That would hardly do, I'm afraid," Lieutenant Prescott laughed softly. "You see, the day is full of duties. Now, sharp at six the march – "
"March? At six in the morning?" gasped Algy Ferrers, his despair increasing by leaps and bounds. "Man alive, I wouldn't feel like crawling – at that time!"
"The term has confused you," replied Prescott. "It's the musician of the guard – the bugler – who plays the march. It's a strain that is played, the first note beginning just as the reveille gun is fired, at the minute of six in the morning. Then, just five minutes later reveille itself is blown."
"All that racket will wake me up mornings," complained Algy sadly.
"It ought to, for it's an officer's business to be up by that time."
"Good heavens!" groaned Algy. "Say, 'pon my word, I'll hate to have any soldiers see me when I'm looking as seedy as I'll look at that time of the day."
"You won't see them immediately," Prescott replied.
"Don't I have to go to my men as soon as I'm up?"
"No; officers don't go down to barracks to see their men rise. Now, listen. Reveille sounds at 6.05, with assembly and roll-call right afterward. There's a very brief athletic drill, followed by recall from the drill at 6.15 o'clock. At 6.20 mess call for breakfast is sounded. Right after breakfast comes police of quarters and premises. 'Police' is the Army term for cleaning up and making everything tidy. Then, just at 7 o'clock the bugler of the guard sounds sick call. The first sergeant of each company makes up the sick report, and a corporal marches the men out who need the doctor – the 'rain-maker,' we call him in the Army. Now, with all that happens up to this time the non-commissioned officers – sergeants and corporals – have to do."
"Then I can sleep a little later, can't I?" proposed Lieutenant Ferrers hopefully.
"If you do you'll be sure to get yourself in a scrape. You'll be coming out of your quarters unshaven, or with your uniform put on too hastily. Colonel North is a true Tartar with any officer who doesn't start the day looking like bandbox goods. And, my dear fellow, it's no greater hardship for you to be up early than it is for the enlisted man. Now, at 7.10 in the morning comes first call to drill. Drill assembly goes at 7.20."
"Do I have to be there?"
"You do, unless excused for some very grave reason. Recall from drill sounds at 8.20."
"That means that drill is over, then?" sighed Algy questioningly.
"Yes. Then, at 8.30, is fatigue call."
"I shall be properly fatigued by that time, no doubt," confessed Algy wretchedly.
"You'll soon understand what 'fatigue' is in the Army," smiled Lieutenant Prescott. "It's more work, but work that is done without arms."
"Without arms? With the feet, then?"
Lieutenant Prescott bit his lip, but answered:
"By arms this time I mean weapons. First call to guard mounting comes at 8.50, and guard mounting assembly at 9. At 10 another drill begins; at 11 the recall sounds, with recall from fatigue at 11.30. Mess call for enlisted men is at noon, and 1 p. m. fatigue call. Drill call goes again at 1.50, with drill assembly at 2 o'clock. The time spent at these drills varies according to the nature of the work and the orders. Recall from fatigue sounds at 5 o'clock. Parade assembly is at 5.30 at this time of the year, with retreat and evening gun-fire at 6.10. Then comes mess call to supper. With that ends, usually, the working day of the enlisted man. Tattoo sounds at 9 in the evening, with call to quarters at 10.45, and taps, or lights out, at 11 p. m. Except when on guard or special duty you're not likely to have to be with your men much after retreat."
"Oh, I should hope not," exclaimed Algy Ferrers fervently. "By supper time I can see myself a nervous wreck."
"Oh, you'll get used to it," laughed Prescott. "The rest of us all had to."
"And at all of those beastly things and jobs you enumerated, Prescott, I've got to be present and actually do a lot of work?"
"A big lot of work, you'll find."
"And yet they call being an officer in the Army a gentleman's life."
"Yes," replied Prescott, his eyes opening rather wide. "Don't you consider that one may be a gentleman and yet be industrious?"
"Oh, I reckon so," sighed Algy Ferrers. "But it all seems a beastly grind."
"Then how did your ever come to think of going into the Army?"
"I didn't," almost flared up Algy. "It was the guv'nor. He forced me into it. Said he'd cut my allowance off altogether, and leave me out of his will if I didn't get to work. And he chose the Army for me, and put the whole thing through. Wasn't it beastly of the guv'nor?"
"I'm not so sure that it was," smiled Lieutenant Prescott. "Of course it was different with me. My father worked, and had to, or starve. It was the same with me, which may be why I can look upon the idea of a lot of work without feeling insulted by fate. But I reckon, Ferrers, that no man is worth his salt in the world unless he does work."
This was the day after Algy's arrival. Colonel North and Major Silsbee had not yet put the new young officer actually at work. They had allowed him this time of grace to get settled in his new quarters, and to talk over his new duties with young Prescott.
"I can never remember all that long list of things you told me, dear fellow," complained Algy. "Won't you do me a great, big favor?"
"What?"
"Write down for me that – er – time table you laid down for me."
"No." Lieutenant Prescott's tone was almost abrupt. "I'll repeat it to you, Ferrers, and you can write it down for yourself. Get a pencil and paper."
"Give me just time for a cigarette before I take up such exhausting literary work," begged Algy, reaching for his gold cigarette case. "Have one, dear fellow?"
"Thank you, Ferrers. I don't smoke."
"Then what do you do with your time?"
"Work!"
"What beastly old rot the Army is!" murmured Algy, lying back in his easy chair and blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.
Rap-tap! sounded at the door.
"Come in," called Algy. It was Lieutenant Holmes who entered.
"Howdy-do, Ferrers?" he hailed the new officer. "I heard Prescott was here and came to find him. You'll pardon me, won't you?"
"Nothing to pardon," murmured Algy.
"Old ramrod," began Lieutenant Holmes, turning to his chum and addressing him by the old West Point nickname, "I came to see you about your pet. He seems to be in increasing trouble."
"Who's my pet!" demanded Prescott in surprise.
"Why, Corporal Overton, of your company."
"Corporal Overton is not my pet, and you'll greatly oblige me by not referring to him again in that fashion, Holmesy," returned the young lieutenant almost stiffly. "Corporal Overton is a mighty fine young soldier, and a good soldier never needs to be his officer's pet; he can stand on his own merits. But what's the trouble with Overton? Is he still absurdly suspected of relieving that simpleton Green of his money?"
"Yes; there's a strong drift of suspicion that way among the men of B Company."
"The idiots!" muttered Prescott impatiently.
"One of my sergeants has just been telling me about Overton's present standing in the company. B Company men have always liked Overton. In fact, he has been well liked all through the battalion, but just now many of the men don't feel sure about the young fellow," continued Lieutenant Holmes. "Not a man will admit that the case is proved, but a good many of them don't like the looks of things. Especially are the men disturbed by the fact of that revolver being in Corporal Overton's bed, and the fact of his being awake and appearing nervous when the alarm was given."
"Greg, you don't believe Overton stole that simpleton soldier's cash?" cried Prescott.
"I don't, and I won't," Lieutenant Holmes replied. "Overton isn't that type of fellow. He's a soldier all the way through, going and coming, and the first characteristic of a real soldier is honesty."
"Yet you say so many of the men suspect him?" mused Prescott.
"Not exactly that they suspect him, but that they'd like to have the whole matter cleared up and see daylight through it."
"From what I know of soldiers," remarked Lieutenant Prescott thoughtfully, "it looks like a mean mess for Overton. Really, nothing but long time, or complete vindication, will ever put Overton back where he'd like to be in the esteem of all his comrades."
"I know it," agreed Holmes. "That's why I'm telling you all this about one of your own men."
"And I ought to have known it myself," Prescott reproached himself. "I ought not to have waited to get the first strong news from an officer of another company."
"Why, I suppose it was easier for me to get this word than it would have been for you. B Company men are too 'sore' to talk much about it. But C Company men, as it doesn't affect any of them, just treat the whole matter as one of ordinary news."
Lieutenant Dick Prescott rose and began to pace the floor. He was deeply concerned – not so much for Hal Overton's sake as for the general good name of B Company. Moreover, young Prescott knew that, if any man in his company were unjustly suspected, it was his duty, as one of the company officers, to find a way to set the whole matter straight.
"What's all the beastly row about, any way?" queried Lieutenant Algernon Ferrers.
Holmes explained it briefly.
"So it's all a row about some seven hundred dollars, it is?" asked Algy.
"If you choose to put it that way," replied Lieutenant Holmes.
"Then see here, Prescott, old chap," cried Algy eagerly, "why all this rotten fuss? Why, I see the way through it as clear as daylight! I'll set the matter straight in thirty seconds!"
CHAPTER V
CORPORAL HAL'S ADMISSION
LIEUTENANT PRESCOTT paused, looking sharply at Algy.
"Ferrers, if you can see a way through difficulties as easily as you promise, then you're going to be a valuable man for the Army. What's your plan?"
"Why, as I understand it," beamed Ferrers placidly, "the whole trouble is caused by the loss of some seven hundred dollars that the Overton chap got from the simpleton Green?"
"Seven hundred which some men almost suspect that Corporal Overton took from Green," corrected Lieutenant Prescott.
"All the same thing, as far as the really important details go," beamed Algy. "I'll settle it out of hand. You know, dear chaps, the guv'nor owns a few banks in his own name, and he ships me yellow-backs by the case lots. Result is, I always have plenty of money, and am likely to have more than ever now, for there doesn't seem to be much chance in the Army to spend it. So – "
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1
It would be an excellent idea to reproduce the wig-wag alphabet, with full directions for its use, in this volume of Mr. Hancock's, were it not for the fact that alphabet and directions have just been published in "The Battleship Boys' First Step Upward," which is the second volume in Frank Gee Patchin's Battleship Boys' Series. Readers, therefore, who would like to pick up this fascinating art of signaling messages from distant points will do well to consult Mr. Patchin's volume for simple and explicit directions. – Editor.
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