E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) AT PLATTSBURG by ALLEN FRENCH * * * * * * BY THE SAME AUTHOR THE HIDING-PLACES . . net $1.35 * * * * * * AT PLATTSBURG by ALLEN FRENCH New York Charles Scribner's Sons 1917 Copyright, 1917, by Charles Scribner's Sons Published April, 1917 TO SQUAD EIGHT MY BOOK THE SQUAD ISN'T AS IT REALLY WAS. SOME OF YOU ARE NOT THERE, AND THE REST ARE ALTERED. BUT WHILE, ON ACCOUNT OF THE STORY THAT I NEEDED AND THE FACTS I WANTED TO DISPLAY, I COULD NOT DRAW YOUR PORTRAITS, I HOPE I HAVE SUCCEEDED IN SHOWING THAT THING IN PLATTSBURG WHICH MEANT MOST TO ME PERSONALLY, THE SPIRIT OF OUR SQUAD PREFACE To describe military scenes is always to rouse the keenest scrutiny from military men. I write this foreword not to deprecate criticism, but to remind the professional reader that, while the scenes I have described are all from experience, the aim in writing them was not for technical exactness, often confusing to the lay reader, but rather for the purpose of giving a general picture of the fun and work at a training camp. Nowadays we are making history so fast that readers may have to be reminded that last summer occurred the mobilization on the Mexican border of most of the regular army and many regiments of the National Guard, a fact which considerably affected conditions at Plattsburg. The "Buzzard Song," which my company used with such satisfaction on the hike, was written by a camp-mate, John A. Straley, who has kindly allowed me to use it, with a few minor changes. Allen French. Concord, Massachusetts, April 3, 1917. AT PLATTSBURG RICHARD GODWIN TO HIS MOTHER On the train, nearing Plattsburg. Friday morning, Sep. 8, 1916. DEAR MOTHER:-- Though you kissed me good-by with affection, you know there was amusement in the little smile with which you watched me go. I, a modest citizen, accustomed to shrink from publicity, was exposed in broad day in a badly fitting uniform, in color inconspicuous, to be sure, but in pattern evidently military and aggressive. What a guy I felt myself, and how every smile or laugh upon the street seemed to mean Me! The way to the railroad station had never seemed so long, nor so thronged with curious folk. I felt myself very silly. Thus it was a relief when I met our good pastor, for I knew at the first glance of his eye that my errand and my uniform meant to him, as they did to me, something important. So strong was this comforting sense that I even forgot what importance he might attach to them. But fixing me with his eye as I stopped and greeted him (being within easy hurrying distance of the station) he said in pained surprise: "And so you are going to Plattsburg?"