In desperation Jimmy finally sought Major Steadman, his commanding officer, and laid the matter before him. Fortunately for all concerned the major chanced to be well acquainted with the aviator. Not only did he show evident interest in Jimmy's story of how he and his bunkies happened to be acquainted with Cousin Emile. He very kindly volunteered to take the responsibility on himself of sending the aviator a personal dispatch. Thus it was arranged, but five Sammies were deeply disappointed over the sudden collapse of the "Flying Terror's" proposed visit.
Friday afternoon saw the selected detachments marching to the station to entrain, looking not unlike a herd of overloaded young camels. Hiking about Camp Marvin under "full pack" was easy compared to the amount of equipment with which the Khaki Boys were now loaded down. Each Sammy fairly bristled with the paraphernalia of war.
Everything needful for trench life was attached to some part of his person. All the worldly goods bestowed upon him by the Army, he now carried with him, together with as many of his own personal possessions as he could make room for and bear the weight of. Undoubtedly few of these last treasured gifts would go with him to the trenches. They would have to be reluctantly cast aside or given away, leaving him with only the absolutely necessary articles and equipment provided by the Government.
Burdened as they were, it was a thrilling moment for the Khaki Boys when late on Friday afternoon the bugles called them to Assembly in front of barracks. All day they had been impatiently waiting for the order. Every young face glowed with patriotic fire as they obeyed the call, "Fall in," and were marched, company after company to the station, there to entrain for the front.
All along the way they were cheered by the inhabitants of the village who had come out to catch a farewell view of the gallant Sammies and send them into the fight with warm-hearted expressions of their good will. Many a French mother breathed a prayer and made the sign of the cross as she saw these sturdy youngsters taking the same stretch of the Glory Road over which had passed a beloved son or sons of her own, never to return.
Arrived at the station our Khaki Boys were marshaled with the rest into the waiting "48 Men, Eight horses," which had been used to convey so many Allied soldiers to the fighting district. Entering these cheerless and highly uncomfortable box-cars, they were leaving behind them the comparative ease and safety they had enjoyed since landing in France. From now on the Glory Road would mean a succession of trials and hardships, with death always lurking in the foreground.
Every mile the train ran meant a nearer approach to the goal for which they had so long striven. At last they were on the way to strike their first definite blow in the big war.