XII
SIX DAYS' LEAVE
Bethlehem, U. S. A., September 30, 1917.
I am now awaiting my orders to return to my regiment. Towards the beginning of the month I felt that it would be a good idea to try and see some fellows I knew. Things were getting impossible here, and I was feeling a little lonely, so I asked my chief in New York if he would allow me to visit some friends for a few days. He agreed and so I decided to visit the commodore and his wife on the "Reina Mercedes" at Annapolis. The "Reina Mercedes" was captured by the American Navy at Santiago. Her own crew sank her hoping to block the channel at the entrance to the bay. She was easily raised and now all snowy white, possessing an absurd little funnel, and a couple of thin masts, she acts as a receiving ship at the Academy. She suggests a beautiful houseboat, and the captain possesses very comfortable quarters for his wife and family.
I left Bethlehem at 3 P.M., arrived at Philadelphia somewhere around five o'clock and decided to get into uniform sometime during the evening before catching the midnight train for Washington.
While the kit of a mounted officer in the British army has certain attractions for the wearer in England and France, its leather field boots, Bedford cord breeches, and whip cord tunic make one feel very hot and uncomfortable on a warm midsummer's night in Philadelphia. At eleven o'clock, with still an hour to wait for my train, an iced drink became a necessity, so I descended to the café and suggested to the waiter that he should supply me with an iced drink as large as possible. I thought that orangeade might meet the case, but the waiter mentioned a mint julep. The drink was unfamiliar, but it sounded good, and American people make the most wonderful soft drinks in the world. The very word "mint" suggested coolness, and the fragrant smell of the upper river at Cambridge on a summer's day came back to my mind as I sat behind a large column in the café. Hence I said: "Right O! Bring me a mint julep." He did, curse him! With a large chicken sandwich it arrived. The glass was all frosted, filled with mushy ice, while a dainty little bunch of green mint with its stems piercing the ice floated on the top. I was more thirsty than hungry, and I was very hungry.
I drank the mint julep at once. It was delicious, a trifle dry perhaps, but delicious. For a soft drink the effect was decidedly interesting. My first sensation was a nice singing, advancing sound in my head. I felt myself to be drifting along a smooth stream with overhanging willows and masses of mint growing on the banks. I felt that delightful sensation that one feels when a tooth has been removed with the aid of gas and one is just returning to consciousness. It is a jar to one's nerves when the dentist's voice is first heard and the attending lady in the uniform of a nurse hands one a glass of water, and the world, with all its troubles and dentists returns to one's consciousness.
This pleasing feeling continued for a little while, and then I could see the panelled walls of the room, and I heard what seemed a still small voice talking in extremely bad French to the waiter who answered in what must have been good French. The voice using the bad French was very familiar and then I realized that it was my own. I promptly switched to English, but the voice was still far distant. Finally full consciousness returned, also a realization of the situation. Then the voice in the distance said: "Waiter, your d—— mint julep has gone to my head and I must catch a train in exactly half an hour." The waiter's voice expressed sorrow and suggested much water and more sandwiches. I drank water and I ate sandwiches, and the vision of Mr. Pickwick in the wheelbarrow came upon me with full force. I was thankful that, in spite of all, I could see my watch; but if the waiter had not been firm I should have missed my train. The water and sandwiches were successful. A faint knowledge of Christian Science picked up from my chief in New York helped and in a perfectly stately manner I walked out of the hotel and along the road and caught my train.
I would advise all foreigners arriving in America to avoid mint juleps. I am not going to say that the experience was not pleasurable. It was extremely pleasant, almost delightful, but a mint julep taken several hours after a meal when one drinks but little at any time is extremely potent. I have been told since that just after a meal a mint julep is comparatively harmless and that it is not a soft drink. Frankly I will never touch one again as long as I live. There were too many possibilities lurking in its icy depths.
I arrived in Washington safely and found that my uniform acted as a wonderful talisman. Every officer of the U. S. A. that I met desired to show kindness in some way. It was impossible to pay for a meal.
I put up at a hotel and, with the aid of the telephone, commenced to accumulate friends from certain officers' training stations around. Most of them had not had time to buy uniforms of their own, but were dressed in the sort supplied by the quartermaster's store—good material, but badly fitting. However this fact could not in the slightest alter the effect produced by the glowing health that seemed to characterize all of them.
Their eyes were clear and bright like the eyes of a thoroughbred in perfect condition. One or two had lost a little weight, with some advantage perhaps. In a word, good looking, handsome fellows though they had been before the war, military training, plain good food, and an entire absence of mint juleps had worked magic.
We had all lived together in Bethlehem and coming so recently from that town that both they and I had grown to love, we commenced that form of conversation which consists of many questions and no answers. You know the sort—everybody pleased with everybody else and everybody talking at once. I forgot most of it, but as far as I remember it consisted of, "Gee! Mac, but you do look fine in the English uniform. Have you been over to see Lucy lately? How's Lock? Are 'yer' getting your guns a bit quicker? How's 'Sally?' Does Curly still serve funny drinks? We're all on the wagon now even when we get the chance. It makes you feel fitter. We hope to get over soon. Don't forget to let us have those addresses soon. Gee! but we'll all have some parties in London some day. We've got to work awful hard, but its fine, and we've never felt better in our lives."
Finally we all rushed out to buy equipment and uniforms. Young officers always get smitten with a very pleasing disease which makes them rush about any city buying every conceivable form of equipment and uniform. They'll buy anything. They'll extract from a pleased though overworked tailor promises that he can seldom keep. If he does keep them he ought to spend many hours in bitter remorse for supplying clothing and uniform that would have been spurned by a well turned out Sammee or Tommy in the days of the great peace.
It is part of the fun of the thing, this disease. We all had it in England in the latter days of 1914 and the early days of 1915. We also caused expressions of horror and dismay to creep over the well-bred faces of the regular officers we found at our barracks.
However we all rushed about Washington enjoying the process of being saluted and saluting. We assaulted a department store and descended to the basement, where a worn-out clerk and his employer, especially the latter, did what he could for us. He was interested in what he called the "goods" which formed my tunic. He regretted that Uncle Sam had not adopted our uniform with its large pockets and comfortable collar. I've often wondered about this myself, but I suppose that stiff collar looks smarter, although I am sure that it must choke a fellow.
These fellows are going to make wonderful officers, I am sure. The whole thing brought back to me the wonderful early days of the war when we were all longing to get over to have a whack at the Boche. We still enjoy fighting him since he is such a blighter, but nowadays it is slightly different. It has become a business minus mad enthusiasm, for we know what we are up against.
Of course when you first get over there the chances of getting knocked out seem one in fifty, but after six months it becomes "fifty-fifty." After nine months or a year the chances of getting scuppered seem to grow greater, and the deadly monotony becomes unbearable. It is then time to get a "Blighty" and a rest in hospital.
A visit to Washington on a Saturday afternoon is well worth while, merely to see the young officers going about. They are very careful about saluting. I suppose war is a bad thing from every aspect, but it seems bearable in the capital city, when one sees the effect of military life on the many men walking about the streets.
One thing seemed unusual to me, and that was the number of junior officers who were over thirty. It would seem that this in America were a good thing. I wonder. The respect and affection shown to the young junior officer by his men is a very fine thing. We find in our army that the subaltern of immature age gets this much more easily than anyone else. Affection is more powerful than respect, and when it comes to the actual difficult, dangerous work, the leading of a charge, for instance, the youngster can sometimes carry it off with less effort than the older man. Of course, he has not the same sanity of judgment possessed by the older chap. Possibly he will attempt the most impossible kind of stunts. However, time will tell and it is useless to compare British experience in this respect with American.
In our army it is only the subaltern and the field marshal who can afford to be undignified. A little lack of dignity on the part of both is often effective. A man just over thirty is apt to overdo dignity. He is like a second year man at a university—just a little difficult to manage. In our army, the men seem to take a fatherly interest in their platoon commander and will follow him to hell, if necessary. Of course, when you become a captain or a major or something equally great, then it is a different matter, but the subaltern has so much personal intercourse with his men, that if you can introduce a personal feeling of love and affection to this relation it is a great help on a nasty, rainy, miserable night in the trenches. The subaltern forms a connecting link between the men and the more superior officers, and that link becomes very strong when the junior officer is an enthusiastic youth who makes a few unimportant mistakes sometimes, but with all is a very proper little gentleman, who understands when a fellow makes a break occasionally. There's nothing greater in this world than love, and in my experience there's nothing finer over there in France than the affection, and protective interest shown by the dear old British Tommy for the youth, not long out of school, who is his "orficer" and a "proper torf" into the bargain, or what the Sammee would call a "reg'lar feller."
After dining at the hotel I had to leave my friends, and catching a slightly unclean trolley car found myself dashing along to Annapolis.
At the academy gates I was met by a coloured steward who, after feeling the weight of my bag, asked if I were going to stay a week. Secretly I hoped so, but merely laughed lightly. At the "Reina" I was received cheerily by the commodore and his wife, and their two nieces R—— and M——. They are both ripping girls of entirely different types. R—— is what we would call in England a typical American girl—original, bright, happy-go-lucky, a delightful companion; while M—— represents an international type of young womanhood; sympathetic, the sort of girl that makes a priceless friend, as the newsboy says: "One wat knows all abawt yer and yet likes yer."
The next day after lunch, dear old Eddy came on board full of enthusiasm and witty remarks, that would come out, in spite of his efforts to keep them back, or to reserve them for more fitting occasions. I was very glad to see him. His father, a naval officer of rank, had lived at Annapolis during his son's boyhood. Here Edward established a reputation for being the "baddest" boy in America. He was brimming over with mischief and was the terror of the young midshipmen who had attained sufficient seniority to be allowed to walk out with young persons.
He is still full of mischief and loves to tease people, but the person being "ragged" always enjoys the process. I met him first at a large steel plant. For two years he had worked very hard, practically as a laborer, refusing to go about with the young people of the town. Finally, however, he got promotion and found himself in the sales department. He now burst upon our local society and no party was complete without him. He is very much a man's man. He says more witty, droll things in one week than most people say in five years.
As soon as war broke out he joined the Navy as a "gob," in other words an ordinary seaman. However, he got a commission, and was soon sent to Annapolis for a short course of intensive training.
We all chatted for a time and then walked round the city of Annapolis. Annapolis is very like Cambridge, apparently quite as old fashioned, and has numbers of nice old red brick houses rather like Queen Anne houses in England. It seemed sound asleep.
We sought a movie show, and went in to see some star alleged to be good looking, playing in a piece called "The Snake's Tooth." There were no serpents, and the star seemed to me to be a little fat and bourgeois looking, but she wore some stunning frocks for her more agonizing scenes. There was a handsome looking fellow moving about the screen very well dressed. I tried to sleep, but couldn't because the chair was not meant for sleeping in.
After the show we went to a party given by one Peter, which was a great success. We were the first to arrive, but soon numbers of other people came in. I enjoyed this party very much and fell in love with both my host and hostess. Mademoiselle, Peter's sister and our hostess, told me that she loved my countrymen; and I told her that it would be impossible for all my countrymen not to love her, which remark seemed to please her. They've got a ripping little house all filled with old china, prints, and daintily wrought silver. We were a very cheery party. All the men were in uniform and everybody knew everybody else and I was quite sorry when we had to return to the "Reina Mercedes" for dinner.
However, after dinner we went to the local inn and danced, but unfortunately, I wounded a lady's frock with my spurs so we sought the grill room, an underground place suggesting the vault of a royal prince in a fashionable mausoleum.
The next day we all set off in launches to visit some friends who have a charming country house on the Severn. There were about twenty of us and we decided to form a club called the Reina Club. There are no rules or regulations to our club but as we form a mutual admiration society it is impossible to remain a member unless you like or are liked by the other members. We made the Commodore president and his wife vice-president.
We had a wonderful day which consisted of golf, swimming, boating, dancing, and all sorts of other amusing things. Our host and hostess had engaged the services of a darky band which seemed to follow us about everywhere even while we were all swimming. I have never tried to swim to music before.
The Severn is a beautiful wide river. I have heard people in Australia boasting about Sydney Harbour; I have heard New Zealanders singing the praises of the Waitemata; I have heard Tasmanians observing that there is no place in the world like the Derwent River; but I have never yet heard an American say a great deal about the Severn River. And yet I cannot imagine anything more lovely than this wide stream which winds its stately way through the low lying hills of Maryland.
The few houses that appear amidst the foliage help to add beauty to the whole effect, and when the stream reaches the grounds of the academy, with first the hospital buildings, then the pretty wee cemetery, and finally the main group of buildings, the effect is just wonderful. You should be there on a summer's afternoon when the river is literally covered with the sailing craft in which the midshipmen practice seamanship. Some of them man long-boats and dash past with long sweeps crashing into the blue water, keeping perfect time. They all wear little round caps edged with white, a superior edition of the head-gear worn by the ordinary seaman.
Sometimes larger craft will pass, manned by gentlemen wearing the ordinary naval officer's caps but dressed in khaki shirts and breeches. They are naval reserve officers and are out with the fell purpose of laying mines of a harmless nature, and when they pass M——, R——, and I give up enticing the wily crab to fix itself to the piece of mutton we have dangling at the end of a string, and have a good look to see if we can recognize any of our club members. Sometimes we see J——, sometimes we catch a glimpse of B——; often J—— is at the helm, so we all wave, but they are much too serious about their work to notice us, so we return to the job of catching crabs for to-morrow's dinner. This crab catching is rather fun, but R—— is very bad at it for as soon as a crab has been tempted to fix its great big claws to the bait, she gets very excited and the crab gets suspicious and lets go.
One day Eddy and I called on the superintendent and had tea, and I am perfectly certain that we stayed too long, but we hated leaving, because our hostess and host were so amusing, and in any case, it was their fault. There were several midshipmen present; third year men, I believe. That academy training would make a man out of any "rabbit."
At the end of the week, all my friends of the naval reserve graduated, and we all went to see the ceremony. The superintendent made a short speech, every sentence of which was of value—short, brisk, bright, inspiring. The Secretary of the Navy then addressed the men and presented them with their diplomas. We all cheered as our friends went up and returned with their certificates. K—— got a particularly enthusiastic reception. He is a youth of great size, a mighty man before the Lord, a fine type of American manhood. He now commands a submarine destroyer and my great hope is that the Boche sea soldiers won't get him.
After the ceremony we all parted feeling a little miserable in spite of the fact that we were all going to meet in New York, a few days later, at a party given by a very charming American lady who had invited us to be her guests in New York.
The New York party was a great success. I occupied an apartment at the hotel which the Duke of Plaza Tora would have been proud to live in. We went to theatres together and also visited the Midnight Frolic.
The very name "Midnight Frolic" suggests sin and wickedness, but the show is not at all wicked, really. If you want to be particularly devilish, the thing to do is to engage a table right underneath a glass gallery where a few chorus ladies walk around. This struck me as being a little curious, because it could either be impossibly revolting or merely futile. It must obviously be the latter, but I dare say certain men feel themselves to be "reg'lar fellers" as they look at these ladies from an impossible angle. I wonder why they have it, but I suppose the people running the show realize that it takes lots of people to make up this funny world, and that quite a large portion of humanity, while hating to be really nasty, likes at times to appear fearfully wicked to others. I guess that they are merely "showing off" like the people at the Sunday school exercises in Tom Sawyer. This world would be a very puritanical place if folk showed themselves to be as good as they really are.
The next night we went to a musical comedy which had some bright spots marred a little by the leading actor who possessed the supreme courage to imitate a rather more clever person than himself—Billy Sunday. Of course, if Billy Sunday is a knave then the actor chap is doing the right thing to expose him, but quite numbers of people have been made a little better by the Reverend William and the evidence seems to show that he is sincere and just as capable of making men better as of being able to play a jolly good game of base ball. "Voilá!"
A few days after this I visited two members of the Reina Club who are married to each other and who live on Long Island with a tiny wee baby. I loved the baby especially. She had a bad cold and her wee nose was all red at the corners and her tiny eyes were watering, but that did not prevent her from being a profound optimist. She looked at me doubtfully for a moment while she wondered if I would respond to the great big smile she threatened to give me. I got the smile all right.
And now I am back in Bethlehem, but my mind refuses to think about guns and gun carriages, but rather persists in soaring sometimes down to Annapolis, sometimes down to Norfolk, often across the ocean to the Irish channel, at all of which places I have warm friends amongst the sailors of Uncle Sam.