The first outfit issued to the boys consisted of one coat, a pair of trousers, a hat, with cord, three pairs of drawers, two pairs of laces, a pair of leggings, a set of ornaments, an overcoat, two flannel shirts, two pairs of shoes, six pairs of socks, a belt, a pair of gloves and three undershirts. The value of each article was set down and varied from a hat cord, marked as worth six and a half cents, to an overcoat, which cost the government $14.50, making a total of about $45 for each young soldier. For this, of course, Ned, Bob, and Jerry paid nothing. A private gets his uniform and food for nothing, but an officer has to buy his.
“Return to barracks and get into your uniforms for inspection,” was the order the boys received, and they were glad to do it. There were some, like Ned, who sent their civilian clothes home to be used as parents saw fit, and there was a general opinion, coinciding with Jerry’s, that they would be of little use to the owners themselves after their army service, for the young men would, indeed, be of different physical appearance and size.
“Well, how do I look?” asked Ned, as he and his two chums finished dressing in the barracks.
“It fits you sort of quick,” answered Jerry.
The new uniform was, in truth, a trifle loose.
“Yours fits the same way,” laughed Ned. “I guess I’ll do a double stunt of exercise to fill out quicker.”
“Bob looks good in his,” commented the tall motor boy. “It’s because he’s so fat. When he loses some of his flesh he’ll look as though he was wearing a meal sack.”
“Watch your own step,” said Bob, with a laugh. “I’m satisfied.”
There were jokes and jests among the recruits about the appearance of one another, and when Pug Kennedy walked out on the way to drill, to which the squad was summoned, Jerry called to him:
“You’ve got your hat cord on backwards, old man.”