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Uncle Sam's Boys with Pershing's Troops Dick Prescott at Grips with the Boche   By: (1868-1922)

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UNCLE SAM'S BOYS WITH PERSHING'S TROOPS or Dick Prescott at Grips with the Boche

By H. Irving Hancock


CHAPTERS I. Dick at Training Camp II. Greg has to be Stern III. Bad Blood Comes to the Surface IV. As it is Done in the Army V. The Camp Carpenter's Talk VI. The Enemy in Camp Berry VII. At Grips with German Spies VIII. With the Conscientious Objectors IX. Order for "Over There" X. On Board the Troopship XI. In the Waters of the Sea Wolves XII. The Best of Details! XIII. Off to See Fritz in His Wild State XIV. The Thrill of the Fire Trench XV. Out in No Man's Land XVI. The Trip Through a German Trench XVII. Dick Prescott's Prize Catch XVIII. A Lot More of the Real Thing XIX. A "Guest" in Prison Camp XX. On a German Prisoner Train XXI. Seeking Death More Than Escape XXII. Can It Be the Old Chum? XXIII. The Dash to Get Back to Pershing XXIV. Conclusion



His jaw set firmly, his keen, fiery eyes roving over the group before him, the gray haired colonel of infantry closed his remarks with these words:

"Gentlemen, the task set for the officers of the United States Army is to produce, with the least possible delay, the finest fighting army in the world. Our own personal task is to make this, the Ninety ninth, the finest regiment of infantry in that army.

"You have heard, at some length, what is expected of you. Any officer present, of any grade, who does not feel equal to the requirements I have laid down will do well to seek a transfer to some other regiment or branch of the service, or to send in his resignation as a military officer."

Rising to their feet behind the long, uncovered pine board mess tables at which they had sat listening and taking notes, the eyes of the colonel's subordinate officers glistened with enthusiasm. Instead of showing any trace of dissent they greeted their commanding officer's words with a low murmur of approval that grew into a noisy demonstration, then turned into three rousing cheers.

"And a tiger!" shouted a young lieutenant, in a bull like voice that was heard over the racket.

Colonel Cleaves, though he did not unbend much before the tumult, permitted a gleam of satisfaction to show itself in his fine, rugged features.

"Good!" he said quietly, in a firm voice. "I feel assured that we shall all pull together for the common weal and for the abiding glory of American arms."

Gathering up the papers that he had, during his speech, laid out on the table before him, the colonel stepped briskly down the central aisle of the mess room. As it was a confidential meeting of regimental officers, and no enlisted man was present, one of the second lieutenants succeeded in being first to reach the door. Throwing it open, he came smartly to attention, saluting as the commanding officer passed through the doorway. Then the door closed.

"Good!" cried Captain Dick Prescott. "That was straight talk all the way through."

"Hit the mark or leave the regiment!" voiced Captain Greg Holmes enthusiastically.

"Be a one hundred per cent. officer, or get out of the service!" agreed another comrade.

The tumult had already died down. The officers, from Lieutenant Colonel Graves down to the newest "shave tail" or second lieutenant, acted as by common impulse when they pivoted slowly about on their heels, glancing at each other with earnest smiles.

"Gentlemen, our job has been cut out for us. We know the price of success, and we know what failure would mean for us, personally or collectively. Going over to quarters, Sands?"

Thrusting a hand through the arm of Major Sands, Lieutenant Colonel Graves started down the aisle. Little groups followed, and the mess room of that company barracks was speedily emptied.

Hard work, not age, had brought the gray frosting into the hair of Colonel Cleaves; he was forty seven years old, and not many months before he had been only a major... Continue reading book >>

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