“No; it’s too crowded,” decided Bob. “There isn’t much more elbow room than we had in the trenches.”
“Trenches!” exclaimed Jerry. “Don’t name ’em!”
Any one who heard, saw, or had any experience in connection with the return of the first of our fighting forces back to their homes need not be told that the transports were no place for a comfortable voyage. While everything possible was done to insure the comfort of the soldiers, the first requisite was to bring back as many as possible in the shortest possible time, and also transport as many casualties as could safely and comfortably be accommodated. The recovered, or partly recovered, wounded were the first consideration, and none of the soldiers who were comparatively well and strong, even though some of them had been in hospitals, begrudged an inch of space that went to make life easier for those who had lost an arm, a leg, who were suffering from the effects of gas or shell shock, or who were among the most terribly afflicted—some being blinded.
So, as Bob said, the transport was no place for joy-riding. There was such a crowd that the soldiers had to stand up to eat, many of them, and they were glad of a place to sleep. They could not move around much on the boat, big as it was.
“Now we’re really on our way at last!” exclaimed Bob to his chums. “And do you know what I think will be the best thing to do?”
“I can make a pretty good guess,” laughed Ned. “It has something to do with eating, hasn’t it?”
“Don’t get fresh,” advised the stout lad. “You may be thankful to me, later, for suggesting this.”
“What were you going to say, Chunky?” asked Jerry. “Go on, tell me! Don’t mind the shrimp!”
“Well, I was going to say it would be a good thing if we located the place at the lunch counter where we’ll be handed our rations,” suggested Bob. “They’ll be giving the mess call soon, and if we know where to fall in, and the shortest route to the dining car, so much the better.”
“Not such a bad suggestion at that,” commented Jerry. “We’ll do it, old top!”