Jerry James jumped up, stood at attention and threw off a snappy salute. “Yes, sir! Hut-two-three-four! We’re in the Army now. We march at dawn.”
Russ grinned appreciatively; then he said in his most authoritative, military manner, “There’s just one thing, soldier. You don’t salute with a boloney sandwich in your hand.”
CHAPTER TWO
Into the Woods
After a pre-dawn breakfast of sausage, eggs and flapjacks, Russell Steele and the three boys strapped on their packs and walked down to the dock where Lars Johannsen was warming up the cabin cruiser. Prince was running back and forth on the pier, barking excitedly.
Jerry eased his thumbs under the pack straps where they cut into his shoulders. “Boy, this stuff is heavy. You mean to say soldiers carry all this weight for miles and miles?”
“More weight than that,” Russ told him. “Our packs don’t weigh more than thirty or forty pounds. An infantryman may pack better than sixty pounds. And that doesn’t include his cartridge belt and rifle.”
“Me for the Navy,” Quiz said emphatically.
Russ laughed. “After a few days you won’t even realize your pack is there.”
The sun, a steaming red ball through the morning mist over the lake, was just showing above the treetops as they climbed aboard the cruiser. Russ cast off and the cook advanced the throttle slowly. With a roar of the twin exhausts, the sleek craft shot away from the dock, her bow lifting as it cleaved through the clear, blue water. Prince scrambled up on the top deck and stood at the prow, leaning forward into the fine spray whipping back across the cabin.
“He’s got a fine pair of sea legs,” Jerry said.