Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

Page 28 text:

9 24 CAERULEA 25 IIIIIIIIIllllKIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIIIIIIIHIIIIlllllllllllllllIIIIIIIHIIHIIIIIIIIIXIIIIIIIIlIIIlIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIIIllIIIlllllllllllllllllllllllIIIllIllllIIllIIIIlIIIlIIIllIIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIlIIIllllIlIIllIIllllllllllllllllllllllf It looked like a department store at a closing out sale. No attempt was made to please the customers. Say, you ought to have seen the breeches they handed me! The company fatfboy and I traded and each of us had a good fit for the other. But let's get back to the story-I have to get the pants before I can trade them. Soon my name blared forth. I hurried, forcing my way through to the counter. Watch me, instructed the clerk as I reached the counter, and began laying out clothing, calling each part by name, and marking it off on a slip. Is that right? he questioned as he finished. HQ. K. , I affirmed briskly. Check, he muttered to himself, and then aloud to me, Sign here. With my bundle under my arm I struggled back to my tent. Quickly I donned the long desired clothing. But I found a 'moment later, to my disgust, that I had no leggings. My heart boiled within me to ind that I still had some more stray clothes to chase down, after that tediously long line, those humiliating questions, and that long walk back to my tent under that cumbersome bundle. I've got to have leggin's, I reasoned. 'Tm going to make a kick and get them. I bustled down to the orderly tent. I ain't got any putteesf' I blurted to the innocent orderly sergeant. No puttees? he asked. Yes, no puttees, I afhrmed. Well, tain't none o' my businessfl and with a shrug of his shoulders he turned and went inside the tent. I stood for a minute stunned by this reply. Then sticking my head inside the tent, I asked, Where will I get them? That's your business, not mine, came the growling return. Well, maybe it is, I thought. L'I'll find out if I have to pester the whole company. Darn the whole business! Conquering this momentary wave of rebellion, I assailed a nonfoom. It happened to be our supplyfcorporal. Where can I get some puttees? I-Ie looked me over casually. Got your barracksfbag yet? No, I acknowledged. 'Come down here, then, he said, leading the way to a messfhall. The messfhall, at present, was used to store barracksfbags pending their issue to the students. The corporal stepped inside and dropped behind a desk.

Page 27 text:

I -,, Su ' ...A..., .......,.... .slllll STOOD in a long line of men that wound from the porch of the quarf termaster's storehouse, around several trees, to where I was standing by a messfhall. When I say that the line was of men, I flatter myself. It was of boys of my own age. The men in this line were there for only one reason: they had to be. Early that morning a glib gentleman had come around and persuaded us to check our civilian clothes until the end of camp, when they were to be returned, cleaned, and pressed for the consideration .of a dollar. After an hour's work this individual decamped with half of the battalion's clothes. My suit went with him wherever he went, and hence, I was standing in line in my shoes, socks, B. V. D.'s, and hat, and I wasn't the only one either. The line moved. It took me several minutes to find out, but I finally became convinced that it really did. Every time that I saw a man take a step on the porch I knew that I was one step farther from pneumonia and one step nearer a civilized state of being. Byfandfby, in fact a great many byfandfbys, I arrived somewhere near the head of the line. Before I had time really to observe the situation, some one shoved a piece of paper into my hand and told me to write my name in full upon it. Thusly coached, I inscribed in my best hand, Anson I. Arguef' A short time later, as I reached the head of the line, a burly sergeant took the slip from my hand and yelled, Argue, Anson I was just wondering about the sudden notoriety caused by the reading of my name, when someone-a different someone this time-gruffly com' mented Asleep? I shook my head. Step over here then. Being willing to oblige at all times, I stepped smartly over, not at all conscious of the fact that I had held the line up for a matter of a second. The gentleman in overalls who had beckoned to me along with his curt remark whipped a tape measure around me in various latitudes. Ask' ing me the size of my shoes, my collar, and my hat, he expounded this startling information, 7, 32, 36, 15, 7V4. Came an answer from across the veranda, 7, 32, 36, 15, Check, bellowed my tormentor. I was on the point of telling him that I had no checking account and would be unable to tender a check, when he shoved me into a large room opening' off the porch. One corner of this room was separated from the rest by a counter. Back of this counter, piled high, were great quantities of khaki clothing. A few men were laboring with bundles which they eventually carried to the counter, howling as they came upon strange names. 1 wb . 1 , I J? ' Q M, E ' - wa- : un, -' -in V

Page 29 text:

LITERAQEIIIIIIIII l I I lllllllllll IIIIIIIHIIE3 What's your name? Argue, Anson ,l., I informed him. The corporal flashed a smile of approval and promptly issued me the best bag he could pick out. You'll find your puttees inside. Bost, he continued, addressing sjomeone at the other end of the hall, put down Argue, one barrack' ag. Argue, one barrackfbagf' repeated the person addressed as Bost. Check, said the corporal automatically. Taking my new incumbrance, I shouldered it up the company street. As I passed the orderly tent again, I saw a line forming. The men in this line seemed pleased and eager. What's the line for? I demanded of one. Rifles Better hurry if you want one today. I hurried, indeed I ran to my tent. Taking the barracksfbag by the bottom I dumped the contents out on the floor. Hastily I fumbled for the puttees, and with slight regard for looks, I donned them. In a trice I was at the end of the line, waiting for a rifle. I won't bother with a long tale about a long line. Let it suffice to say that I reached the head in due time. As before, I handed a slip to a soldier at the door, who introduced me by reading from it, Argue, Anson J. I stepped smartly into the room. A figure, bending over a box, straightened to hand me a rifle, generously daubed in grease. U, S. Army magazine rifle, calibre 30, model 1903, he droned. U, S. Army magazine rifle, calibre 30, model 1903, came the monot- onous answer. One bayonet, scabbard, and belt, droned the first. One bayonet, scabbard, and belt, came the echo. Check, said the first, and I was ushered out with my hands full of my newly acquired artillery. Arriving at my canvas domicile, I dumped the armament on the floor and proceeded to wipe cosmoline, the substance, very greasy, with which my rifle had been coated, off of my hands. A boy who had been sitting on a bunk in the back of the tent, unnoticed by me, came forward and offered his hand. I guess we're tentfmatesf' he said. My name's Brown. 'Tm Argue, Anson I. I returned cordially. You mean, Anson Argue? he queried. Check, I affirmed. Shakef'