nothing.”
“Me, either, but I sure would like one, wouldn’t you? Some of the other fellows carry pictures of their girlfriends. They were showing them all around a while ago and bragging about which one was the prettiest. Sure wish I had a pretty girl’s picture to carry with me. … But, hey, I kissed a girl once.”
“You did?” Phoebe looked at Ted’s lips—soft and full, like a baby’s—and tried to imagine them pressed against her own. She couldn’t recall ever being kissed, not even by her ma or pa, much less a beau.
“Yeah, I kissed Maggie Fisk in the schoolyard one day. Just on the cheek, though. Gosh, she smelled good. Like something you’d eat for dessert.”
They finally reached the front of the line. The supply sergeant began piling items into Phoebe’s outstretched arms: a haversack for her provisions, a woolen blanket and waterproof sheet, a cartridge box and belt, a bayonet, a tin drinking cup, a canteen, and a knapsack to carry all her personal belongings. The supply sergeant glanced down at her feet, then set a pair of square-toed brogans on top of the pile. Phoebe had never owned a brand-new pair of shoes in her life; she’d either worn her brothers’ hand-me-downs or gone barefoot, which she preferred.
“How do you know them are gonna fit me?” she asked the soldier doling out the shoes.
His look told her that asking questions was the wrong thing to do. “We only have three sizes left,” he finally said. “Since your feet are the biggest ones I’ve seen all morning, I gave you the biggest pair I got. Move along now. Gotta keep this line moving.”
Phoebe sighed in resignation and followed her new friend through the back door and into a vacant lot behind the building where the other recruits were gathering. The fresh autumn air felt good. Ted flopped down in a small patch of shade to try on his new shoes; Phoebe did the same. The leather was very stiff, and they made her feet feel squished, even before she laced them up. She decided she’d better keep her old, worn-out shoes for now and stuffed them into her new knapsack along with her blanket, rubber sheet, and the possessions from her burlap bag. The knapsack was crammed full to the top, and she was still left with a tangle of straps, sacks, and all the other contraptions they’d just given her.
“What’re we supposed to do with all of this?” she wondered aloud.
“My uncle showed me how to carry everything,” Ted told her. “Watch.” Following his lead, she soon had her cartridge box, belt, bayonet, and haversack fastened properly, her canteen and tin cup hung where they’d be handy, and her bedding rolled up and fastened to her knapsack, ready to carry. She hefted the pack onto her shoulders with a grunt.
“I sure hope they don’t expect us to carry this stuff very far,” she said. “Feels like somebody’s hanging onto the back of my pack, trying to pull me over backward.”
She looked down at Ted and saw that the little fellow was bent nearly double beneath his load. She’d watched him pack a lot of extra stuff from home into his knapsack—three books, four extra pairs of socks, two flannel shirts, two spare suits of underwear, a sewing kit, a mirror and shaving items, a jar of homemade preserves, paper and writing utensils, and a bottle of Dr. Barker’s Blood Tonic.
“I …um …hope you don’t take offense, Ted, but you better get rid of some of that extra gear you’re carrying or you’ll be a hunchback by the time the war ends.”
“I’m fine,” he said, puffing slightly. “Hey, I think we’re supposed to go on over to the train depot when we’re done changing. You know where that is?”
Phoebe shook her head.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” She set off down the lane beside Ted, both bearing their loads like pack mules. Phoebe’s shoes squeaked and groaned. When she and Ted walked side by side, their tin cups, canteens, and other equipment jangled and clanked and rattled so noisily
“Me, either, but I sure would like one, wouldn’t you? Some of the other fellows carry pictures of their girlfriends. They were showing them all around a while ago and bragging about which one was the prettiest. Sure wish I had a pretty girl’s picture to carry with me. … But, hey, I kissed a girl once.”
“You did?” Phoebe looked at Ted’s lips—soft and full, like a baby’s—and tried to imagine them pressed against her own. She couldn’t recall ever being kissed, not even by her ma or pa, much less a beau.
“Yeah, I kissed Maggie Fisk in the schoolyard one day. Just on the cheek, though. Gosh, she smelled good. Like something you’d eat for dessert.”
They finally reached the front of the line. The supply sergeant began piling items into Phoebe’s outstretched arms: a haversack for her provisions, a woolen blanket and waterproof sheet, a cartridge box and belt, a bayonet, a tin drinking cup, a canteen, and a knapsack to carry all her personal belongings. The supply sergeant glanced down at her feet, then set a pair of square-toed brogans on top of the pile. Phoebe had never owned a brand-new pair of shoes in her life; she’d either worn her brothers’ hand-me-downs or gone barefoot, which she preferred.
“How do you know them are gonna fit me?” she asked the soldier doling out the shoes.
His look told her that asking questions was the wrong thing to do. “We only have three sizes left,” he finally said. “Since your feet are the biggest ones I’ve seen all morning, I gave you the biggest pair I got. Move along now. Gotta keep this line moving.”
Phoebe sighed in resignation and followed her new friend through the back door and into a vacant lot behind the building where the other recruits were gathering. The fresh autumn air felt good. Ted flopped down in a small patch of shade to try on his new shoes; Phoebe did the same. The leather was very stiff, and they made her feet feel squished, even before she laced them up. She decided she’d better keep her old, worn-out shoes for now and stuffed them into her new knapsack along with her blanket, rubber sheet, and the possessions from her burlap bag. The knapsack was crammed full to the top, and she was still left with a tangle of straps, sacks, and all the other contraptions they’d just given her.
“What’re we supposed to do with all of this?” she wondered aloud.
“My uncle showed me how to carry everything,” Ted told her. “Watch.” Following his lead, she soon had her cartridge box, belt, bayonet, and haversack fastened properly, her canteen and tin cup hung where they’d be handy, and her bedding rolled up and fastened to her knapsack, ready to carry. She hefted the pack onto her shoulders with a grunt.
“I sure hope they don’t expect us to carry this stuff very far,” she said. “Feels like somebody’s hanging onto the back of my pack, trying to pull me over backward.”
She looked down at Ted and saw that the little fellow was bent nearly double beneath his load. She’d watched him pack a lot of extra stuff from home into his knapsack—three books, four extra pairs of socks, two flannel shirts, two spare suits of underwear, a sewing kit, a mirror and shaving items, a jar of homemade preserves, paper and writing utensils, and a bottle of Dr. Barker’s Blood Tonic.
“I …um …hope you don’t take offense, Ted, but you better get rid of some of that extra gear you’re carrying or you’ll be a hunchback by the time the war ends.”
“I’m fine,” he said, puffing slightly. “Hey, I think we’re supposed to go on over to the train depot when we’re done changing. You know where that is?”
Phoebe shook her head.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” She set off down the lane beside Ted, both bearing their loads like pack mules. Phoebe’s shoes squeaked and groaned. When she and Ted walked side by side, their tin cups, canteens, and other equipment jangled and clanked and rattled so noisily
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