The Brighton Boys in the Radio Service | Page 4

train pulled out, and there was great cheering and
waving of hats and handkerchiefs, Joe, Jerry and Slim, leaning from
adjoining windows, sang out in chorus:

"For Uncle Sam."
CHAPTER II
INTO THE SERVICE--A SPY
A brilliant October morning was just breaking when a final bump of the
train ended the none too musical snoring of Slim Goodwin and he came
to a sitting posture, his first yawn almost instantly to give way to an
exclamation of surprise.
It was strange scenery he was gazing upon, and for the moment he had
forgotten where he was. The grinning faces of Joe and Jerry, whom he
had awakened half an hour before with his sawmill sleeping serenade,
brought him to a realization of his surroundings.
"Where are we?" he asked, now fully awake.
"I imagine it's Philadelphia," answered Joe, "although I've never been
there."
"Well, let's climb out and see," was a suggestion from Jerry which
found ready response in the other two; and a moment later, while half
the passengers were still asleep, they were investigating the mysteries
of Washington Avenue, near Broad Street, in the Quaker City.
Strings of freight cars were stretched out on the sidings, and either side
of the railroad yard was flanked by large manufacturing buildings,
which already were showing preliminary signs of industrial activity.
"You are enlisted men, sirs?" queried a deep voice just behind them,
and all three turned, somewhat startled to find they were not alone.
They faced a young giant of a fellow, who wore the khaki uniform of
Uncle Sam, with a sergeant's stripes upon his sleeve. He was unable
wholly to suppress a smile as Slim came to a difficult and not entirely
regulation salute.

"We are," answered Joe. "We just stepped off that train to get a breath
of fresh air and to learn where we were."
"No harm done," the sergeant responded in a friendly tone. "You are in
Philadelphia, and the only restriction upon you now is that you are not
to stroll too far away. We leave here in a short while for the navy yard,
where mess will be served."
"Mess? That's breakfast, ain't--isn't it?" asked Slim anxiously.
"Yes," the sergeant replied, "and a good one, too."
Each boy touched his cap respectfully as the non-commissioned officer
turned to return to the train.
"Hope we have sausage," said Jerry in an undertone; "but I'm hungry
enough to eat anything they give me."
"Same with me," Slim added in melancholy tones; "but I guess I'll have
to diet some until I'm sure, certain, and solidified in the service."
At that instant the shrill blast of a whistle brought their attention back
to the train, where the sergeant was signaling them to return. Three
automobiles had arrived, and into these our three friends and the other
fifteen recently enlisted men climbed, for the trip to League Island,
where is located one of the Nation's largest and most important navy
yards.
Down wide, asphalted Broad Street the party sped, past solid rows of
handsome dwellings, and then across the stretch of beautiful park that
was once a mosquito-ridden marshland, and to the gates of the navy
yard.
Here the detachment of marines on guard gave the boys their first close
association with the spirit of war. As they swung through the gates a
virtual wonderland of the machinery of sea battles greeted their
eyes--powerful battleships, lithe and speedy cruisers, spider-like
destroyers, tremendous colliers capable of carrying thousands of tons of

coal to the fleets at sea, and in the distance a transport, waiting to take
on its human freight of Uncle Sam's fighters for foreign battlefields.
On the parade ground several companies of marines were going
through maneuvers, while on every ship bluejackets were engaged in
various tasks, and activities were in full sway in the many large
manufacturing buildings at the lower end of the yard, near the
waterfront.
It was a scene to inspire the lads with a full appreciation of the great
military and naval service of which they were to become a part, and in
their patriotic enthusiasm they forgot even their healthy young
appetites.
Mess was in one of the big barracks, where they mingled with hundreds
of others, some of whom were raw rookies like themselves, others of
longer experience, and some of previous service in Haiti and elsewhere.
The big sergeant, whose name they learned was Martin, brought the
entire eighteen together immediately after the meal, and they joined a
score of others who had arrived a few days before. All were then
marched to another building, where their instructions began, and they
were informed that before night they would be uniformed.
This was welcome information, indeed. To get into the uniform of
Uncle Sam! Every young man in the group breathed a