We had been eight days on this deep blue sea and our convoy hadn’t appeared yet. The General said we’d probably pick them up to-morrow or next day and in another couple days we’d be wherever we were going. Nobody knew where that would be, not even the Captain, but probably either Brest, St. Nazaire or Bordeaux, since those were the three ports that were taken over by the American Expeditionary Forces. No one could be sure, though: we might end at Le Havre or in England. This was a hell of a war: we were just like a shipload of freight: we don’t know where we’re going but we’re on our way!

However, I felt much better now, regardless of the monotony and the suspense, for at last I did the impossible and escaped without being suspected. It was an experience!

Just around the corner from the General’s stateroom was a lavatory and bath with a sign on the door reading FOR OFFICERS ONLY. (Which was rather brazenly ironic, because there was an old sign on the door, reading GENTLEMEN, and this hadn’t been removed, the black letters had only been painted over: anyone might observe that Officers weren’t gentlemen or the old sign would have been good enough for present purposes.) Even the General smiled at it.

However, I had decided several days previous to investigate this special domain of the favored, and I found it much more to my liking than the enlisted men’s “head.” There were only two or three enlisted men who were very much around that section of the deck, so no one objected to my going in there, since the officers who used the place knew that I was General Backett’s dog-robber. Thus I was able to avoid visiting the more embarrassingly un-private “heads” which the enlisted men were supposed to use: the nearest one to General Backett’s stateroom was on the deck below—very inconvenient for a busy individual like me. And besides, there were doors on the boxes: which helped a lot in the matter of privacy, I must say.

Besides all these advantages, this place had two showers—and private ones at that. I mean, with doors that latch and everything! Ideal!

So this day I waltzed in with a towel and soap tucked under my blouse. There was a Captain in there at the time, so I made believe I had come for another purpose and beat a hasty retreat.

A little later, I tried again and, not seeing anyone around, concluded that the time was ripe. So I started to undress. You see, there’s no place to undress—I mean, no privacy. And I was just about to pull my blouse off when in comes Chilblaines. Well, I about fell over, because he was the one man on this ship whom I hoped never to meet in that bathroom.

I saluted him and began to button up my blouse, as if I had just been washing my face or something. He looked at me a moment after returning the salute, then stepped into one of the boxes and snapped the latch. I tucked my towel away again and departed.

About an hour later I got away from the General again and made a third attempt. This time I determined to take no chances. I locked myself in the shower and stripped for action.

Then I couldn’t decide what to do with my clothes. If I left them inside, they’d get all wet. If I put them outside, it would arouse suspicion, because the officers who use these showers leave their clothes in their staterooms and come down in slickers or overcoats. Finally I decided that the only place my clothes could go was up on top of the pipes at the back of the box, and there I put them. I didn’t know for sure whether anyone outside could see them there or not, but I couldn’t waste time trying to find out. I just turned on that wonderful warm water and proceeded to revel in its downpour.

Just as I got myself nicely lathered up, someone rattles the door and gives me the scare of my young life. A gruff old voice says, “Who’s there?” And I looked through the crack under the door and saw two enormous bare feet.

What in the devil was I supposed to do? Let him come in and share the bath?

The feet padded around into the next box and I expected any moment to see a head stick up over the partition. But instead I heard him swear at something and then he said, “How long will you be in there?”

I had to say something, so I dropped my voice to as low a pitch as I could manage and still make my words carry. “About ten minutes—” I almost said “sir” from force of habit.

“This other shower’s out of order,” he grumbled and padded away.

I continued my bath. Rinsed thoroughly. Lathered all over again. Rinsed again. Turned off the water and made a hurry job of drying myself.

Believe me, I could pass a fireman’s dressing test after getting into my clothes as fast as I did this afternoon. I was proud of myself.

And I was clean! Thank God I was pure again, within and without—and another difficulty had been surmounted, with credit and satisfaction.

When I closed that bathroom door and noticed that sign again, I had to laugh. All one needed in this man’s army in order to get along was a little intelligence.

The day after my bath, we had trouble. I guess it was my own fault, for I should have told Ben about meeting Chilblaines in the bath, then he’d have been prepared for his visit the next morning.

The result of my negligence was that Esky was resting comfortably under the head of my bunk when the inspecting officers appeared, and when Ben saw Chilblaines it was too late to do anything about the pup. The snooty little lieut just had to poke his head in our place and look under the bunk. As Ben says, he would have looked under there if he didn’t look anywhere else all day. And when he saw what was there, he exploded like a bomb.

“Is this the way you men were taught to obey orders?” he demanded of Ben, who glowered at him, although he must have been scared stiff. “How did that dog get aboard after I explicitly told Canwick to get rid of it?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders but didn’t answer.

“Answer me! Are you dumb?”

“No, sir,” declared Ben promptly. “First I know that dog was here—he musta followed us.”

Such a brazen, impossible falsehood must have given the lieut chills and fever. “Followed you, eh!” he stormed. “That’s mighty reasonable, isn’t it, when officers were watching everything that came aboard!”

“Well—” Ben tried to help his explanation by details.

But the officer impatiently waved his words away. “Keep still! I don’t want to hear any more of your prevarications. That dog must be got rid of at once. Tell Canwick he will hear from this without delay.” And the puffy little runt stamped away to finish his tour of inspection.

As soon as he left the compartment, Ben hurried out to find me, and a few minutes later I discovered him parked for patient waiting in front of the General’s door. He lost no time in recounting what had happened and ended his recital with, “So you just beat this guy to it and tell the Gen. all about the works!”

Well, I couldn’t decide what to do, but finally came to the conclusion that I could do nothing else but put it up to the General, although I wasn’t as confident of his judgment as Ben seemed to be. I don’t know how Ben knew so much about my boss, but he seemed to have implicit faith in him. Maybe it was as my partner says, “A man can’t get to be a General unless he’s a real human being!”

So I interrupted the General’s home work in French and proceeded to tell him how my pet dog had followed me to camp, had been sent home and chained, had broken out and come a hundred miles through a snowstorm to rejoin me the night we left for Hoboken. “And now the Lieutenant has discovered him under my bunk and threatens to get rid of him.”

“Well, sergeant, you did disobey orders, didn’t you?” he observed, but not unkindly. Just sort of a paternal reproof.

“Yes, sir.” I replied frankly. “But I’m willing to do anything, sir—anything at all, to get the dog home safely. I’ll ship him back the day we land. Or—” I hated to say the rest, but he kept looking at me as if waiting for me to finish so I had to go on. “Or, if you say to get rid of him,—why—well—I’ll do whatever you say, sir.” My voice must’ve sounded rather jerky for a hard-boiled soldier.

My heart skipped several beats before he answered, but when he said, “He must be a pretty good dog to behave himself under such circumstances.” I immediately felt relieved, for I knew then that he wouldn’t uphold Chilblaines.

“I should say, ‘Just forget about this matter, sergeant,’” he advised finally, and turned his attention to his book.

“And keep the dog, sir?” I asked, just to make certain.

“Yes. Yes, of course, you must keep the dog.” He sounded rather impatient, as if he didn’t like to seem too lenient, and I took the hint, thanked him and started to go, just as the door opened and Chilblaines himself reported. I decided to stay until I was sent out—which was immediately, for the General said, “You may go, sergeant,” as soon as he saw who his visitor was. I closed the door behind me, but lingered for a few moments in front of it, using an unwrapped puttee as a pretext.

Sure enough, Chilblaines promptly reported my dastardly insubordination. I stopped breathing in order to hear what the General had to say on the matter, but his speech was so long that I almost choked. “Chilton,” I heard him say, as if he were talking to a little boy, “I don’t know whether you will ever go to a higher rank than your present one, but I’m quite certain that you never will until you’ve altered your attitude toward your environment, and particularly your subordinates. You must learn to look forward instead of backward, upward instead of down, and to value morale more than discipline. A martinet seldom if ever makes any real success in wartime. Discipline that doesn’t embrace common sense will not make a powerful leader. Success is not won by wasting time on past defeats, but by working toward the victories of the future.... Now this dog matter is a case in point, something in the past. It makes no difference how he came aboard. The point is that he is here and, regardless of all the regulations, which are intended in this case to prevent what might develop into a general nuisance, he is doing no one any harm whatsoever. If there were a thousand howling, yapping, hungry dogs, it would be a different matter entirely—and would come under the ban of regulations. But one single little animal that bothers no one and makes practically no impression on the ship’s rations—why, can’t you see, man, how foolish it is to make a mountain of such a molehill?”

Chilblaines didn’t answer, so the General continued, “There is nothing to be gained either for you or for the United States Army by breeding ill feeling from an incident like this, so let’s just forget about it.”

When I heard that, I beat a hasty retreat. A moment later Chilblaines appeared, very flushed in the face and looking rather uncomfortable. I chalked up a great big mark to the General’s credit, believe me.

He surely was one fine man. Ben said he was a “damn good guy!” And Esky seemed to know something had happened, for he made no bones about romping all over the compartment, since Ben ceased to restrain him. He made friends for us all over the place, and I felt pretty good.

Nothing much happened the next day, except a darned good time down in our hole, singing barrack-room ballads and telling dirty stories. I didn’t tell any, but I did a good job at listening.

Oh, yes, something else did happen. Ben was fully recovered, eating like a horse and buying chewing tobacco again—and this last got him into trouble.

He was lying on his bunk, having a beautiful spree with his cud when the top-kicker called “attention” for inspection. But the top-kicker was a little late, and the result was that the inspecting officer had reached the bottom of the ladder by the time Ben rolled out. But Ben didn’t stop to see how far down the officer was: he just screwed up his face and sent a torrent of tobacco juice in the direction of the G.I. can at the foot of the ladder. It was a beautiful shot and made a bull’s-eye—after passing within an inch of the officer’s nose.

The officer—he’s a captain—stumbled backwards and sat down on the bottom of the ladder. He couldn’t see Ben and Ben couldn’t see him, and so when the captain arose to his feet he was favored with another narrow escape, this time from a hurtling ball of chewing tobacco. This missile didn’t come quite so close to the captain’s nose, but it made a bull’s-eye in the G.I. can just as Ben became aware of the error of his ways.

The officer came to him directly. “Chewing tobacco during an inspection, eh? Didn’t you hear the sergeant call you to attention?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Didn’t you see me coming down that ladder?”

“No, sir—I don’t see how you got there so quick.”

“Don’t talk back. I don’t need any of your opinions or thoughts.”

“Yes, sir,” Ben clamped his jaws together and kept his mouth shut throughout the merciless bawling out which the captain felt it his duty to give.

And then he noticed Esky. “Whose dog is that?” he demanded, as if he were glad to find something else to kick about.

But Ben fooled him. “General Backett’s dog, sir,” he declared. “Sergeant Canwick just takes care of him, sir.”

The captain wheeled about and continued his tour, but Ben was shivering for days for fear the top-kicker would favor him with a detail on Kitchen Police or “head orderly,” neither of which were very easy on the stomach. Ben said, “This war is just one g—— d—— thing after another and I ain’t had a whole hour o’ rest since it started!”

Personally, I thought we were getting along beautifully. If God would just stick with us—that’s all I asked!

At last! On the eleventh day, and a damned rough one at that, we picked up the destroyers and subchasers that were to escort us through the danger zone and into port. It began to look as if we were getting somewhere at last. I certainly was relieved. I mean, enough is enough of this kind of traveling. If a cattle boat is anything like this, I really couldn’t blame Leon much if he didn’t hop on the next one to come to my rescue. Probably the animals on a cattle boat occupy a place just about like our compartment; if so, being valet to the cows and horses can’t be a very pleasant occupation.

We were talking about cattle boats and Ben said he knew a fellow once who took a job on one of them. “And he made a mistake and tried to treat a bull the same way you do a cow and the bull went mad and raised hell with him.”

“What did he do?” I asked. “Kill him?”

Ben just laughed. “Well,” he said, “he ain’t dead. He can walk and eat and do lots o’ other uninteresting things, but he might’s well be dead as be the way he is.”

Well, I couldn’t figure out just what the bull did to his friend. Apparently it must have been something pretty awful—and I hadn’t nerve enough to ask for more particulars. Curiosity wasn’t going to kill this kitty.

Anyway, working on a cattle boat can’t be much fun. And I couldn’t imagine Leon in such a place. Funnier still was the idea of me doing that kind of work! However, if Leon came over that way, I’d probably have to go back the same way. I couldn’t decide which would be worse: being in my present situation or in that one.

One hell of a lot of trouble next day! This young lady’s army days seemed numbered—and a damned small number, too.

Of all the unexpected, damn-fool, crazy things that ever happened! It was, for once, my luck to be out when the blow fell, but my absence just delayed the agony. I couldn’t possibly escape being discovered—and just when I thought everything was going along so nicely. Just my rotten luck!

Just after I left for the General’s the top-kicker announced that the C.O. had ordered one of those damnably intimate “inspections” before we landed, and he proceeded to call the roll. When he came to me, he asked Ben where I was and Ben said, “With General Backett.”

“Tell him about this when he comes in, Garlotz, and tell him to report to me.” And the top-kicker lined them all up and led the way to the sick-bay, where they were duly looked over by a captain in the Medical Corps.

I came in after noon mess and Ben told me about it. “They caught one bird,” he informed me. “Wonder what they’ll do with him?”

“What do you mean?” I demanded, suppressing my excitement as much as possible.

“Was you born this morning?” inquires Ben sarcastically.

“But how in the devil could a man get anything on this ship. Don’t you get things like that from women?”

Ben just laughed then. “Don’t you know, Leony, that sometimes it takes nine or ten days for it to show up? That’s why they waited until now to have this thing, because they figure that if a guy ain’t got nothin’ wrong with him now, he won’t have unless he gets something from one o’ these passionate mademoiselles.”

I must have looked pretty scared, for he asked, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Oh, nothing,” I replied, catching up my slipping nerves. “That stuff doesn’t worry me any. I just haven’t got time to chase up there to the sick-bay.”

“Well, you might’s well go and get it over with,” he advised.

But I didn’t. I beat it right back to the General’s and believe me I managed to keep myself busy there all afternoon and part of the evening. But I didn’t know what was going to happen. The top-kicker later came around and said, “I’ve been looking all over for you, Canwick. You’re the only one the Doc hasn’t seen, so to-morrow morning, I’ll take you up.”

Well, I was racking my brains, but if the morrow didn’t bring forth any more than my brains had so far, then somebody was in line for a scandalous surprise to-morrow morning.

God, why did I ever get into such a mess! If I wasn’t sure that they’d pull me out, I’d have gone over the side straight. The way I felt then, I’d rather have died than be discovered. It was awful!

I found it necessary to hide out the following day: when I wasn’t with the General I managed to find other places to go—any place except the hole. And of course I was worried sick all day, and even then I wasn’t sure whether I’d escaped or just delayed again the inevitable moment of detection. This suspense certainly was hard on a girl’s nerves.

When I came in at night, Ben welcomed me with, “Well, Leony, you can thank me fer savin’ yer stars this time.”

“Why?” I inquired, at a loss to know what he was talking about.

“The top-kick’s been in here a dozen times lookin’ fer you, and every time I said you were busy as hell with the Gen.”

“Well—I have been,” I agreed.

“And I suppose you forgot all about that doctor that’s been waitin’ specially to meet ya?” he suggested with a smile.

“No—I didn’t,” I declared. “But I just haven’t had time to chase after any doctors. I don’t need a doctor for anything anyway!”

“You don’t, eh?” He laughed. “Don’t kid me any more, buddy. I’m yer friend anyway.”

I began to wonder just what this big galoot had in his head. Did he suspect that I was avoiding the doctor. Apparently he did. What did he think my reason for this? Had he somehow become suspicious of my sex? All at once I felt panicky—actually like running away.

He continued to chew and spit, while I looked at him stupidly, trying to divine his thoughts. Finally he said, “You’re the last man in the world I’d think it of.”

“Think what of? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talkin’ about all right. And so do I. And I’m tellin’ ya to thank me fer savin’ yer goose.”

“How?”

“Well, I told the sergeant the last time he came lookin’ fer ya that he ought to be ashamed of himself thinkin’ that a pure sweet boy like you would ever have anything like that!”

“And what did he say to that?” I asked, relieved at last.

“Said he’s gettin’ sick o’ huntin’ you.” Ben indulged in an expectorational feat and smiled at me knowingly. “An’ so I says, ‘Y’er wastin’ yer time, sergeant. Why’n’t ya just check him off and call it square?’”

“What did he say to that?”

“Said, ‘How the hell do I know but what he’s got seven varieties of venereal disease?’”

“Well—come on! What did you tell him then? I don’t see how you’ve saved me anything.” I was beginning to have fears again.

“Ya know what I said?” Ben demanded rhetorically. “I says, ‘Why, sergeant, that kid ain’t never been with a woman in his life! There ain’t no more chance o’ his havin’ one o’ them diseases than there is o’ me bein’ captain o’ this ship!’ And he says, ‘Is that a fact?’ And I says, ‘Absolutely—he don’t even know what a woman looks like underneath! He’s the dumbest greenhorn ya ever saw!’ And so the sergeant looks at me a minute and then he says, ‘Well, I haven’t time to chase after him any more anyway. We’re going to dock to-night and land in the morning, and as far as the C.O. knows Canwick’s been examined just like the rest of us.’”

I almost fell on the big galoot’s neck, but he had not yet finished his recital. “I says, ‘Ye’re just savin’ yourself work, sergeant—needless work. I give ya my word o’ honor Canwick ain’t been near a woman an’ he ain’t got nothin’ the matter with him.’ An’ he says, ‘All right, to hell with him then.’ And that’s the end o’ that, see!”

I laughed at his seriousness and told him, “I’m glad you have such faith in me, Ben. Thanks a whole lot.”

“Faith in ya!” he exclaimed, as if I had insulted his intelligence. “Say, ya don’t suppose I’m dumb enough to believe that myself, do ya? I just lied for ya, that’s all. I don’t wanta see ya get in trouble and lose yer stripes.”

“But there’s nothing the matter with me, you big goof!” I retorted.

He just laughed at me. “I don’t care whether ya have or not—but you see that ya use yer own towel after this!”

So we just sat there for a while, neither of us saying anything. I was sorry he had that idea in his head, but I was mighty glad to know that the inspection terror was at least temporarily alleviated. Finally I thanked him for troubling to lie for me, “although it really wasn’t necessary, as you think it was.”

He apparently had been thinking it over during our silence, for he now came out with this: “I can’t see how you could be so dumb about everything and still be on layin’ terms with any women! You just don’t know nothin’ at all about that kind o’ stuff—so I guess you must be tellin’ the truth.” He pondered for a moment, then asked, as if to clinch the matter, “Honest—ain’t you ever been with a woman in yer life?”

I looked straight into his eyes and said, “No, sir, I’ve never done anything like that with a woman!” Which was, after all, entirely true.

“Gawd—what’s the matter with ya?” he demanded.

“Oh—I just haven’t any use for them, that’s all. They just get you into trouble, don’t they?”

And that ended that rather heated discussion, for he just laughed at me, and he laughed so hard I almost became worried again for fear he’d suspect me of being myself instead of my brother.... Well, anyway, I had escaped the eyes of that doctor. If he wanted to meet me, and if I had anything to say about it, he’d have to come back to the United States and be introduced to me. Huh—I wasn’t showing all my private property to every Tom, Dick and Harry in the Medical Corps of the United States Army!

That night we were in the harbor at Brest and everyone was busy getting packed up ready to disembark in the morning. Also everyone, or about ninety per cent of us, were hit all of a sudden with dysentery: it was something they’d been feeding us on this ship, because almost everyone had it. It was damned inconvenient for me, I know that.

Well, I was sure ’nough in the army now!