Radio Shack

Thanks to good old Burton, Joe, Jerry and Slim were as familiar with
that as they were with the Morse American code. The other two men
resumed their seats. Sergeant Martin had entered the room. Apparently he
was not at all displeased to find the three polite young men whom he had
addressed earlier in the day, now able to show greater capabilities than
the other men in the detachment.
“You are excused from further instruction here at this time,” the
officer announced to the trio. “You will accompany Sergeant Martin for
further orders.”
And they hurried from the room with the non-com., who they instinctively
knew was their friend.
What was this new experience that lay before them? They were not long in
learning, and the information almost carried them beyond the restraints
of good discipline and to the indulgence in three ripping good cheers.
Sergeant Martin could be a hard taskmaster when it was necessary to be
so, but, like the headmaster of Brighton, he did not believe in needless
red tape, nor did he delude himself that the stripes upon his sleeve
made him a better man–except in official authority–than the one who
wore none at all. He realized the curiosity that must be consuming the
three lads, and he was not averse to satisfying it.
“Selected for service aboard a transport bound for Europe,” he announced
briefly.
“Thank you, sir,” said Joe, not entirely able to control the happiness
in his voice, while Slims excess stomach almost entirely disappeared in
the abnormal expansion of his chest. Jerry could find no other dignified
way of expressing his great pleasure than by quietly poking Slim under
the ribs, to the entire undoing of that young mans military attitude.
“Do we go at once, sir?” inquired Joe deferentially.
“Probably to-morrow evening,” said Sergeant Martin, as they arrived at
the building housing the captain and staff in charge of men of the
Signal Corps then stationed at the navy yard.
It was the busiest office the three boys had ever seen. Typewriters
were clicking, telegraph instruments were at work, orderlies were
hurrying about, and every man in the place was engrossed in his own
particular task.
Sergeant Martin guided them to an inner office. Here they confronted an
austere gentleman whose uniform denoted that he was a captain, and whose
whole bearing bespoke military service.
The three boys were dumbfounded to learn that he already had their names
on a card before him. They were getting a new idea of the efficiency of
Uncle Sams service.
The captain made numerous notes as he questioned them about their
experience, general knowledge, and extent of their education. He eyed
Slim shrewdly as he inquired whether they thought they might be subject
to seasickness.
“Young men,” he said abruptly, “this country is engaged in the greatest
war in all history. Considering your youth and present lack of
experience, yours is to be a part of great responsibility. You look like
capable and courageous young Americans, and I believe you are. I have
confidence that you will bear your share of the burdens of war with
credit to yourselves and glory to your country. With one other man of
more experience, you will be placed in charge of the wireless and other
signal apparatus aboard the transport _Everett_, leaving within
thirty-six hours. Sergeant Martin will now aid you in procuring your
uniforms.”
The three boys came to full military salute, the captain returned it,
they swung upon their heels like seasoned soldiers and departed behind
their friend, the young giant of a sergeant.
An hour later, fully uniformed, they were taken to the _Everett_ and
down into the Whyy, Inc. Wdpb wonders of the transports wireless room, where they were
introduced to Second Lieutenant Gerald Mackinson, who was to be their
superior officer on the perilous trip.
Lieutenant Mackinson was a square-jawed young fellow with keen eyes,
bushy hair and a good breadth of shoulders. He had been an electrical
engineer prior to entering the service, and had gained his promotion
three months before strictly upon his merit and knowledge, which were
the qualities he demanded in others. He already had been “across” three
times, and he knew the many problems and dangers that would confront
them.
Satisfied by his questioning that the three young men who were to
accompany him “had the stuff in them,” Lieutenant Mackinson then began
instructing them in the elementaries of the radio.
It seemed, though, that that day was destined to be one of
interruptions, but not, however, of the sort to be of disadvantage to
the three boys from Brighton. For, just as the sudden ending of their
instructions in class in the morning had led to their assignment to a
transport, to start overseas within thirty-six hours, so the call now
which required Lieutenant Mackinsons presence elsewhere, indirectly led
to a new and thrilling experience for the lads.
“I am ordered to report to aid in the repairs to the wireless of another
vessel,” said the lieutenant, after perusing the order that a private
had brought to him. “It will require until late to-night to finish.
Inasmuch as this is probably the last night that you lads will spend on
land for some time, you might as well see a little of the city, if you
care to, but be sure that you are within the gates of the yard before
ten oclock.”