The Brighton Boys in the Radio Service | Page 4

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 little deeper and drew himself up a little straighter at the thought.
We will not trace Joe, Jerry and Slim through their initial instruction, for it had lasted less than an hour, when an orderly hastily entered the room, saluted the officer who was acting as instructor, and then talked to him for a moment in an undertone.
The officer's countenance underwent a curious change. Finally he turned toward the youths before him.
"Are there any men here who are already telegraphers?" he asked.
Instantly Joe, Jerry, and two others arose, while Slim tried to, but had great difficulty getting himself out of the small, school-child's sort of desk at which he was seated. Finally he managed it by sliding out sidewise, the way he had entered, instead of attempting a direct upward rise.
"How