History of the 305th Field Artillery | Page 5

a time, regimental surgeon. Lieutenant Dennis J. Cronin was assigned as 1st Battalion Surgeon, and Lieutenant Marshall A. Moore as 2,nd Battalion Surgeon.
That very day Dr. Parramore constructed a table in Regimental Headquarters. He placed upon it with proud gestures a tin of alcohol, a demijohn of castor oil, a few assorted pills, and gallons, literally, of iodine. He announced himself open for business.
Business, fortunately, was dull, so the adjutant reached out for Parramore's enlisted personnel, sat them on a bench in the hall, and-Behold!-for the first time Regimental Headquarters had orderlies. There was no doubt about it. We were growing.
On September 27th the arrival of our chaplain, John J. Sheridan, was another reminder; and two days later the long dreamed of moment arrived. Five hundred and thirty-five recruits were assigned to the regiment.
These men, of course, did not come directly to us from their local boards. We received them after two weeks' work of reception and assortment in which all the officers of the division shared. During that phase the once strange term "casual" became a by-word. For all the draft men arrived at Upton as casuals. Officers met the first train loads at Medford on September 15th.
There are, let it be granted, few days in the history of our country more impressive than that one which saw the triumph of universal service and the birth of our great national army. But it is rather so from a distance, for in the minds of the officers and men who assisted there lingers beyond question, woven with the sublime, a pal-pable tracery of amazement and mirth.
The draft came in ancient railroad coaches whose sides were trimmed with placards suggestive of an abnormally swift and terrible march to Berlin, via Upton; and a number of penalties for the Kaiser, very ingeniously thought out.
Then there was the provocative personal adornment. There had been word in the papers that all civilian clothing worn to Upton would have to be cast away. So these young men took no chances. Tattered straw hats were thrust from the windows; crushed derbies, through which wisps of hair straggled; top hats, in a few cases, so venerable that it was a pity to see them out of their sepulchres. And Palm Beach suits of previous summers were there, and the dinner jacket, an affair of generations, and the suit that had been worn on Sundays long before the owner's maturity. It was an assortment that would have taxed the sanity of a Hester Street dealer.
You tried to sound the meaning of such a trip to these Young citizens. You could only sense definitive separations from home and comfort and affection; a shrinking from our uniforms, which meant a discipline, terrifying and undesired; and, perhaps, a perplexed apprehension, somewhere just ahead, of violence and the close of experienced things.
No mind, however, could linger on that side. There were too many races, clamorously asserting themselves. There had been too much made of a number of departures. There still lingered too many souvenirs of feasts. Out of the shadows slipped an eager voice.
"Hay, Tony! Finish off that bottle before these officer guys can grab it."
And another, less concerned:
"Grabba da hell. My gal, she givva me a charm against da evil eye of officers."
And some had reached the point where speech ends.
A man in uniform grew disgusted.
"So," he grumbled, "that's what we've got to teach to fire a three inch gun!"
But we knew he was wrong. He had judged by the high lights. In the really fundamental background we saw a sober and determined spirit. We felt even then the presence of some of the best soldier material in the world.
After meeting a few of these erratic train loads the least confident of shavetails could forecast his ordered garrison tasks with case of mind. For such recruits weren't simple to control.
When we gathered at night in J20 the gossip of every group revolved around the arriving casuals.
"How many souses did you have today, Bill?"
"Two. One wanted to weep on my shoulder, and the other wanted to give me an uppercut."
"What did you do about it?"
"Ordered the fighting one to take care of the weeper."
"Say? Did he?"
"You bet. Closed both eyes so the tears couldn't get out, and satisfied himself at the same time. I remember he shouted as he swung: 'Hay, Boss! It's a grand war!"'
Those already in uniform, none the less, felt a quick sympathy for the newcomers. Their individualities slipped away from them so easily! At the station they were labelled and assigned to barracks. They were herded and marched in long, uncouth lines, to the hospital for physical examination. We formed squads and tried to instruct them in the school of the soldier. Rich and poor, Hebrew and Gentile, short and long, straw-hatted, felt -hatted, or without any hats