Entangled Hearts

Chapter 21

Eugene and Everett came into Kingsford the next week. Gene spent some time in the bank before he told his uncle goodbye and boarded the train that carried him to Fort Douglas.

It was not until roll was called the next morning in the camp that Gene discovered that his college friend, John Chatterton Jr., had been placed in his squad. John was a handsome, well-bred fellow of about the same build as Gene. His hair was slightly darker than Gene's, and his eyes were more of a gray. They did not have a chance to talk to each other until the afternoon.

"Eugene Whitmer, you old son-of-a-gun," John exclaimed, "Isn't this luck?"

"It is almost too good to be true. We hadn't dreamed of such a thing two years ago when we were in classes together at school. How has the young civil engineer been coming along, anyway?"

"Not so bad, but we will wait until this fracas is over and see if any of us are engineers or not," John answered.

On a box nearby sat a queer-looking chap; his neck was too short, making it look like his head sat on his shoulder. He was whittling a stick of wood, with his hat lying on his side. On top of his head was an untimely bald spot which only emphasized the length of his nose. His whole face became a mask of creases and wrinkles every time he laughed, then he showed his teeth, which were uneven and brown with chewing tobacco. His hearty cackle always rang out on the air whenever anything funny happened, for he had a keen sense of humor. He had heard the friends greet each other and called out to them, "Say, did you two know each other before you came here?" A spray of tobacco juice squirted through his ugly teeth to the ground.

"Yes, we did," John answered, giving the fellow on the box a questioning glance.

"You dam' lucky dogs! What I'd give to see a face from back home, I am lonesome as hell already. I'm Squatty Carter," he explained.

John and Gene walked toward the funny little fellow.

"Did you enlist?" Gene asked.

"Yop!" came the curt reply, "I wish now I had waited."

"How did you happen to join the doughboys instead of being a sailor or a marine?" John questioned.

"Hell, I'd rather have the flies bloat me than the fish eat me," Squatty answered with a peculiar grin. The friends looked at each other. They were both somewhat shocked at the lack of refinement shown in their new acquaintance, but they had to grin in return. They had never thought of it just like that before. They realized, too, that it takes all kinds of men to make an army.

"Are either of you birds married?" Squatty opened the conversation again. His real name was Percy Carter, but because of his short neck, he had been nicknamed Squatty at an early age. He had grown to like it better than Percy anyway.

"I'm not married," John answered promptly.

"I am," Gene said, then turned aside to John, "I'll tell you all about it later."

John nodded, then asked the little fellow on the box, "Are you married, brother?"

"Well, I was about five years ago. I married a schoolmarm that came out here from St. Louis. She got homesick and left me. I found out she had a baby boy after she had been home for a while," Squatty confided. "I know her address, and if I ever get in St. Louis, I'd sure as hell like to get a squint at the kid, but the woman can go hang if she's too big a boob to give up her mother for a man like me."

John nudged Gene's arm and smiled. Because Squatty was so lonesome, the boys let him stay close by them much of the time. They grew to like his humorous sayings and attitude he had toward the hardships of life. They were drilled hard and compelled to put in long hours. The call for men at the front was urgent; there was no time to waste. They took long cross-country hikes, they practiced shooting at targets, and had imaginary fights with dummies. Each day was pretty much the same as the day before, except their aim was surer with every practice.