Uncle Sams Boys with Pershings Troops | Page 3

why the alignment of the fours was poor, and why the men were allowed to march without paying the slightest heed to their bearing."
Though there was nothing at all sharp in the company commander's voice, Mock knew that he was being "called," and, in fact, was perilously close to being "cussed out."
"The---the day is hot, sir, and---and I knew the men were about played out," stammered Mock.
"How long have you been in the Army, sergeant?" Greg continued.
"About two years and a half, sir."
"In all that time did you ever know officers or enlisted men to be excused from full performance of ordered duty on account of the weather?"
"N-n-no, sir."
"Then why did you start a new system on your own authority?" Greg asked quietly.
Mock tried to answer, opened his mouth, in fact, and uttered a few incoherent sounds, which quickly died in his throat.
"Sergeant Mock," said Greg, "we have just heard from our commanding officer. He demands the utmost from every officer, non-com and private. Are you prepared, and resolved, from this moment, to give the utmost that is in you at all times?"
"Yes, sir!" replied Mock with great emphasis.
"You mean what you are saying, Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good, then," continued the young captain. "I am going to take your word for it this time. But if I ever find you slacking or shirking again, I am going to go to the colonel immediately and ask him to 'break' you back to the ranks."
"Yes, sir," assented Mock, saluting.
"Are you fully familiar with all your drill work?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then remember that our enemies, the German soldiers, are men who are drilled and drilled until they are perfect in their work, and that their discipline is amazing. Keep the fact in mind that we can hardly hope to whip our enemies unless we are at least as good soldiers as they. That is all. Go back to your men, Sergeant."
Standing stiffly erect, Sergeant Mock brought up his right hand in a crisp salute, then wheeled and walked briskly back to join his men. Greg turned as if to say that he did not feel the need of remaining to watch the rebuked sergeant.
"By Jove!" uttered Captain Cartwright. "I do wish, Holmes, you'd come over and dress down some of my non-coms. I've been trying for three days to put 'pep' into some of them, and the K.O. frowned at me this morning."
"Non-com" is the Army abbreviation for "non-commissioned officers"---corporals and sergeants---while "K.O." is Army slang for commanding officer.
Arrived at an unpainted wooden barracks, in size and appearance just like those of the enlisted men, the three captains entered and walked up a flight of stairs to the floor above. Here they passed through a narrow corridor with doors on both sides that bore the cards of the officers who slept behind the respective doors. Cartwright went to his own room, while Greg followed Dick into the latter's quarters.
Plain enough was the room, seven and a half feet wide and ten feet in length, with a single sliding window at the front. Walls and ceiling, like the floor, were of pine boards. There were shelves around two sides of the room, with clothing hooks underneath. Under the window was a desk, with a cot to one side; the rest of the furniture consisted of two folding camp chairs.
Entering, Dick hung up his campaign hat on one of the hooks, Greg doing the same. On account of the heat of the day neither young captain wore a tunic. Each unbuttoned the top button of his olive drab Army shirt before he dropped into a chair.
"What do you think of the new K.O.?" Dick asked, as he picked a newspaper up from the desk and started to fan himself.
"He means business," Greg returned. "I am glad he does," Dick went on. "This is no time for slack soldiering. Greg, I'll feel consoled for working eighteen hours a day if it results in making the Ninety-ninth the best infantry regiment of the line."
"Can it be done?" Greg inquired.
"Yes."
"But I've a hunch that every other regiment is striving for the same honor," Captain Holmes continued. "Ours isn't the only K.O. who covets the honor of commanding the best regiment of 'em all."
"It can be done," Dick insisted, "and I say it must be done."
"Yet other regiments would be so close to us in excellence that it would be hard to name the one that is really best."
"In that case we wouldn't have won the honor," Dick smilingly insisted.
"Then consider that fellow Cartwright," Greg added, lowering his voice a bit. "He's a born shirker, and one weak company would make a regiment that much poorer."
"If Cartwright shirks, then mark my word that he'll be dropped," Dick rejoined quickly. "But Greg, man, this is war-time, and the biggest and most serious war