Bixton’s malicious intimations against him had done far less to ostracize him than had his own hurt pride. Keenly sensitive of his German parentage, the first whisper against his loyalty to the Flag had caused him to retreat into his shell.
It is said that out of evil some good must eventually come. The disturbance between Ignace and Bixton resulted at least in awakening in the minds of Iggy’s bunkies a genuine interest in Schnitzel, which was one day to prove his salvation. Though he responded rather shyly to their kindly overtures, he made a favorable impression on all three, and, in his reserved fashion, soon grew to be on fairly friendly terms with them. With Ignace he appeared to be even a trifle more at ease. He had not forgotten the little incident of the mess hall. Ignace had come to him at a moment when he most needed companionship. That he was grateful he had summarily proved.
Meanwhile both participants in the fight were feeling the effects of their breach of good conduct. Added to their daily routine of drill was hard work and plenty of it, not to mention the loss of all privileges, confinement to the company street, and the too-searching eyes of the top sergeant keeping tab on their movements.
Ignace did not so much mind the hard work. He had never been used to anything else. Loss of privileges and confinement to the company street were his chief crosses. Though November was fast slipping away, the weather had remained mild. There had been plenty of sunshine and little rain. In consequence, his Brothers spent much of their leisure time out-of-doors, and it grieved Ignace not a little not to be in a position to accompany them on their frequent jaunts about the camp, or on brief expeditions to Glenwood.
Bixton, on the contrary, resented far more than loss of privileges and confinement to company street, the amount of hard work he was made to perform. He disdainfully regarded the various camp labors imposed upon him as servant’s tasks. Brought up in idleness by a too-adoring widowed mother, his enlistment had come about as the result of a disagreement with her over money.
From the moment in which he had begun to realize that the Army had “got” him, he had become at heart a slacker. He had been careful not to let it be suspected, however, among the men in his barrack.
Spiteful by nature, he was ready to make any man whom he did not like an escape-valve for his pent-up malice against the military. He had picked Schnitzel as his first victim, but without any special success. The German-American had refused to quarrel with him or notice his petty attempts to torment him. He had accordingly started upon Ignace, thereby drawing down upon himself Jimmy’s hearty dislike, which he had returned with equal intensity. As Roger had surmised, Bixton’s stealthy trip across the squad room had to do with certain dark designs on Jimmy’s equipment, best known to the author of them. The drubbing Ignace had given him, followed by the summons before the K. O., died into insignificance beside the unexpected move Schnitzel had made against him. He now had but one object in life: to “get even” with “that German snake.”
If Franz Schnitzel suspected Bixton of harboring plans for revenge, he kept it to himself. When in company with the four Brothers, Bixton’s name seldom crossed his lips. Warned by the impetuous Jimmy to “look out for that hound,” he merely replied, “I’m not afraid of him.” No one save himself knew of the alert watch he kept on himself and his belongings. If Bixton tried to “put anything over on him,” he proposed to be ready to hold his own.
With the middle of November came the first signs of approaching winter. Light falls of snow blanketed the camp and the nights grew cold. Thanks to the beneficent efforts of that indefatigable band of Army welfare workers, the Red Cross, Uncle Sam’s boys at Camp Sterling were the grateful recipients of extra quilts, sweaters, knitted wristlets and warm under-clothing. Among the more fortunately-situated soldiers, such as Jimmy Blaise, who were already well supplied with every comfort, these unexpected gifts were passed on by them to more needy comrades. Due to delay in the turning on of steam heat in the barracks, these extra quilts were particularly welcome. After the hard day’s routine of outdoor drill, the tired soldier boys had on more than one night found their allotted bed covers insufficient against the snapping cold. It was the first real discomfort they had encountered since their enlistment, and the majority of the camp contingent accepted it in the spirit of true veterans.
Veterans they were fast becoming. All traces of the rookie had long since vanished. They had acquired the erect carriage and long, purposeful stride that indelibly marks a man the world over as belonging or having once belonged to the military. Each day saw them engaged in learning or perfecting some necessary part of the soldier’s trade. Strenuous practice hikes about camp, bayonet drills, trench instruction, target practice, together with the thousand and one details of military training, now entered into their scheme of life.