I told him, and, in answer to other questions following, said my father was an officer during the Civil War in a Massachusetts regiment. I saw his face change from severity to interest, as he said pleasantly, “Was your father Captain Stark of the --th Massachusetts?” “Yes, sir,” I replied. “Did you know him there?” “I am afraid not,” he replied, smiling for the first time; “but my father did,” and added, “They were friends.” After a pause he added, “I must grant this request to the son of my father’s friend.” I do not know whether this incident had anything to do with a promotion which I soon after received as corporal; but I am sure it did not hinder it. And I was prouder of that promotion than any that I ever received--unless a decoration received long after from the French can be called one. I found, however, that the duties of even this small office carried with it not a little responsibility. Possibly I magnify the office when I say that to be a good corporal, in charge of new men, required some rare qualities. He should be icy calm, have dignity like a judge and eyes like a gimlet, and good humor in profusion; or he won’t get much work out of his men. I was on a detail shortly after my promotion, hauling provisions for the Regimental Ware House, and I couldn’t turn my head without losing a man. When I told Jot about it he smiled and replied: “You did well not to send men after those you lost, or you would have lost more men.” And I knew by that remark, that he had once been a corporal. CHAPTER V FROM CAMP TO TRANSPORT Shortly after the incidents narrated in the foregoing chapter, I, with several others, among them Jot and Sam, was granted a leave of absence of fifteen days to visit our homes. This, we believed, meant that we were soon to be sent to France where, from the first, we desired to be. When we reached the little village near our homes, we were curiously viewed by the people, who up to that time had seen little of the present day soldiers in khaki. We were hospitably treated by our people, and those who knew us gathered around to ask questions, as is the habit of New England folks. On our arrival home, it is needless to say, we were greeted with hearty enthusiasm. Neighbors flocked in to see us, and Aunt Josie expressed her interest and love, after the usual manner of New England self-contained matrons, by a big dinner. Even Muddy was treated with affection and, for the first time in his home experience, was not considered as being “under foot” and in the way. “How straight you are!” said Aunt Joe. “I declare I think you have grown an inch, and you were a big hulking fellow when you went away from here.” Six months of military discipline had certainly left its impress upon all of us. Jot had filled out in chest and shoulders and, though not so tall and “bulking” as I, as Aunt Joe called it, was a fine-looking soldierly youth, lithe and active. Even Sam’s rather rotund form, was reduced to soldierly proportions.