The mere suggestion of troop movements has a thrill to it, and we have had a lot of thrills to-day. [Illustration: I was alone in line] After a long period of restless waiting, and good-byes to every one and everything about the old barracks, came the command to fall in. Then in summer uniforms, and each with a big blue barracks bag crowded with personal belongings, extra uniform, shoes, blanket and what not, on our shoulders, we lined up, shouted last farewells and stepped off, down the barracks street and out toward the railroad station. There was no whistling nor singing for we were all very solemn, and I was lonesome, for I was alone in line, the only member of our entire squad to go. We came upon other columns of fellows, coming from other companies, bound with us for this Southern camp. On we marched to the terminal. Here confusion reigned for a while, for hundreds of men in khaki were scattered everywhere, all bending under blue duffel bags, and wondering what was to happen next. But soon we were entrained, and then with locomotive whistles hooting, and heads bobbing from every car window, we said farewell to The Camp. And with the leave-taking our spirits seemed to rise, for there was singing and whistling and horse play once more as the big cantonment faded from view behind its fringe of pine woods. Our first impression was that we would travel all the way to Georgia in the cars we had been assigned to, but, fortunately, this was not true, for after a long and tedious trip we detrained again at a ferry terminal in Brooklyn. Here, too, was confusion. It was late in the afternoon, and we were hungry. Every candy stand, and handy store was patronized until the officers interfered. Then came the big, old fashioned side-wheeled ferries, and we were hustled aboard. Soon the old craft swung out into the river and with churning paddles we headed down stream. It was just sunset. Far down the bay, beyond Governor’s Island and Liberty, a great, fiery red disc was setting in a haze of smoke and mist from the city, while to our right and left on the river banks, lights began to twinkle, and overhead strings of diamonds draped each gracefully arching bridge. Past the Navy Yard we swung, with cheers from the crews of three destroyers in the river. Tugs and steamers and passing sound night boats greeted us with whistles, and we lined the rails and cheered back. Soon we churned under the last of the bridges and began to make our tortoise-like way around the Battery. Lights were glimmering through the violet haze that shrouded the mass of sky-touching buildings, and in the foreground were hurrying throngs of men and women wending their way through Battery Park toward the ferries.