The road was lined with soldiers from the Depot Brigade as we passed. Here and there we saw a familiar face, and though the movement was to be kept as quiet as possible, there was many a husky “so long, fellows” and “good-bye, 311, good luck,” to cheer us on our way. Packs were heavier every step, and what with the extra rations, typewriter, etc., we were glad to have a half hour’s rest at the station. Then the word came to fall in again--how many times were we to hear those weary words, “Fall in”--and the company filed along to the day coaches awaiting them. Equipment was removed, and all made themselves as comfortable as they could for the night. Early in the morning the train pulled out. As dawn broke, we made out the names of some of the New Jersey towns we passed through. Many a lad saw his home town for the last time as we rolled through it in the chill of that May morning. At Jersey City we detrained and passed through the station to the ferry. Several civilians asked us where we were going; but the men realized the importance of secrecy, and all the curious ones got was a gruff invitation to “put on a uniform and find out.” Then we were jammed on a ferry boat. It was some jam, too, leaving those who hadn’t been trained on the subway gasping. Down to the street, on between the great warehouses, and into a spacious covered pier. Here was the point of embarkation, where we had been told every service record was examined, every man inspected; the focus of all the red tape that had been driving us insane for the past two months. To our very agreeable surprise, however, the loading was handled by two or three business-like men in civvies, who merely checked each company on the boat by the passenger lists as fast as the men could hike up the gangplank. We were met by Lt. Gibbs, battalion adjutant, who led us below, pointed out three decks each about the size of our Camp Dix orderly room, and announced that these were B Co.’s palatial quarters. I gasped, and remarked that we were much obliged, but suppose someone should want to turn around, where would he be, and howinell was Geoghegan going to get in one of those little canvas napkins they called hammocks, anyhow? He replied that I ought to see “C” company’s place, and melted away in a fashion peculiar to Bn. Adjts. when leaving Co. Cmdrs. S. O. L. A few moments later we heard him consoling Capt. O’Brien on the deck above by telling him that he ought to see “B” Co.’s place. CHAPTER III THE CRUISE OF THE “NESTOR” By the time the space and hammocks were assigned to platoons and squads, the ship was under way. Orders were to keep below decks until out of the harbor; and for many, their last look at America was a glimpse of the harbor front through a port hole.