It was fifteen minutes of midnight when I arrived home, let myself in with my latch key which I have been carrying as a silent reminder of my former terrifically wild (?) career; routed out the folks, and sat swathed in bath-robe and dressing-gown until 3 o’clock, just talking. It was bully. And then I tumbled into my own bed and slept and slept and slept. I woke up at reveille all right—(it was just daylight)—grinned, rolled over and slept and slept and slept some more.
Then I had a real bath in a real tub with real hot water, and a lot of real things to eat and real cigars to smoke and real friends to talk with until five o’clock in the afternoon, when I crawled into my regimentals once more, and went out to meet Billy by appointment.
Going back via R—— route (which was necessary) curtailed our leave which really continues until to-morrow morning at reveille, but then we were very happy; so happy that when we arrived in R—— we chartered a taxi-cab for the twenty mile drive out here and now I’m nearly frozen through from the cold wind that blew in at us. And I’m tired, too, but I’m happy and ready to turn in ten minutes before taps.
Monday:
I’ll need no “Melody in Snore Minor” to lull me to sleep to-night, for I am thoroughly weary. It was intimated a day or so ago that our training would be hurried a little so that we would be ready for a quick shift at any time. But hurried doesn’t exactly describe it. It looks like an early fall drive to me.
We began at the beginning, this morning, and had our squad drills all over again, and somehow in the juggling about of men to make up our company formation I managed to get last place in line, and pivot man in the front rank of the last squad.
Before to-day I’ve been in the rear rank and had a screen of front-rank men to cover up any blunders I might make, but being in the first file gave me stage fright. And, of course, with the stage fright I bungled;—forgot which was left and which was right. We began by facing, and first chance I managed to turn left when the command was right. That blunder made me more self-conscious. If I had had to talk I’m sure I would have stuttered. As it was I stammered with my feet.
Then “About Face.”
I faced about all right, only I pivoted on a stump root that some stupid had forgotten to dig out. The result was I lost my balance, and made several movements instead of one before I came to position.
At drills the Sergeants, who do most of the drilling, are equipped with sticks about a yard long so that they can poke a rear-rank man in the back without disturbing the front-rank men, and thus call attention to blunders. Being a rear-rank man on the about face, I presently felt the stick poking into my ribs and the command: