[CHAPTER V]
Although the incident at the flag-raising on the Fourth of July was deeply and unpleasantly impressed on the mind and memory of Halpert McCormack, it did not deter him from following the advice of his Aunt Sarah Halpert, and filing his application to become a member of Company E of the National Guard. He felt, in the first place, that in doing so he was honoring the memory of his father, who had been, in his lifetime, the captain of the company and devoted to its interests. He felt also that while military force ought to be unnecessary in the conduct and protection of governments, the times were not yet ripe for the voluntary disarmament of any nation, and that perhaps it was his duty as a young American citizen to identify himself with the visible means of preserving domestic order and preventing foreign aggression. His application for enlistment was promptly approved by the commanding officer, and he was directed to present himself at the armory to be sworn in.
It so happened that McCormack and Benjamin Barriscale, Jr., appeared at headquarters on the same evening for the same purpose. The oath, administered to them by Captain Murray, was handed to them on separate sheets for each one to sign. Young Barriscale affixed his name at once with a dash and a certainty that indicated complete satisfaction with the course he was taking. But McCormack was not so prompt. He was given to deliberation, and he read over carefully the oath that he had already heard. It was only after he had fully digested its contents and asked some questions concerning it that he signed his name. One clause of it stuck fast in his memory, and he never afterward forgot it.
“And I do solemnly swear that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the United States of America, that I will serve them honestly and faithfully against all their enemies whomsoever.”
After the ceremony of enlistment had been completed Barriscale and McCormack were placed in charge of a sergeant and taken down to the drill-hall to be instructed in the “setting-up” process. And, as no other recruits had been enlisted at about that time, they two alone formed the awkward squad.
They were made to assume the position and attitude of a soldier: Heels on the same line, feet turned out equally, knees straight without stiffness, body and head erect and squarely to the front, chin drawn in, arms hanging naturally with thumbs along the seams of the trousers. They were drilled in alignments, in the facings and in marchings. Occasionally an officer or a group of privates would come along and watch for a little the instruction of the “rookies,” and comment on the facility with which they grasped an understanding of military methods and practice. But there was no criticism of their awkwardness, nor was any fun made of their mistakes.
The most interested onlooker was Chick Dalloway. Chick was a hanger-on of Company E. He had a decided leaning toward the military life, and hoped some day to be a member of the company. But poor Chick was under-sized, hump-backed, lop-shouldered, and hollow-chested. Moreover he had not that degree of mental alertness and stability necessary in an efficient soldier. So, although no one had ever had the heart, or heartlessness, to tell him so, every one but Chick knew that there was no possibility of his ever becoming an enlisted man in Company E. In the meantime, however, the company profited by his devotion to its interests. He was always present on drill nights, he always accompanied the troops to the summer encampment, he ran errands, he carried water, he cleaned equipment, he performed all kinds of humble service for the officers and enlisted men; and while he was not on the company’s pay-roll, he received regularly a small gratuity from those whom he served. And as the weeks and months and years went by, he never ceased to dream of the day when he too should wear khaki, and carry a rifle, and march with the best of them.
At the end of an hour the two new recruits were dismissed with commendation from the drill-master and compliments from Chick.
“I ain’t never seen no two rookies,” said the boy, “since I been in the company, what got into the game quicker’n easier’n them fellers.”
It was three weeks later that McCormack, on his way to the armory on a drill night, ran squarely into Hugo Donatello at the river bridge on Main Street. It was the first time that the two young men had seen each other since the Fourth of July, but the recognition was mutual. McCormack would have passed on with a nod, but Donatello stopped and held out his hand.