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18
THE CADUCEUS
THE PASSING SEASONS
BEING THE FIRST FA.BLE ON
DIXIE SERVICE.
Hesa Rookie enlisted in the medical
department of the army to help win
the war against the Hun. Then sent
him to a northern camp for a few
months. Hesa didn’t like it there even
a little bit. He wanted to see the
world.
When word came that he was to be
sent south was Hesa happy? Yea,
verily! To say that he was delighted is
false. He was more; he was overjoy
ed. Friends were informed that he
was to winter in the Sunny South—
Dixie—the Land of Cotton. He wrote
them all and promised to send roses,
picked beneath blue skies at Christ
mas.
Along about October the joy wagon
dumped Hesa off at a certain camp in
what is commonly called the Piedmont
portion of the Sunny Southland. Did
it rain? No, the clouds just opened up
and voided moisture that flowed as
profusely as beer at a Polish wedding
in Milwaukee. Hesa could feel him
self slipping daily in' the soft southern
soil. The aoquatic sports lasted for
about two months and webbed feet
gradually replaced his former penta-
digital pedal extremitii.d.
Then came winter. Did Hesa pick
any roses beneath blue skies? The
rosiest thing he saw was a red-hot
sally stove, but his toes turned blue
in his hobnails. Snow and sleet were
always apparent, but sun and skies
were seldom seen. In fact these lat
ter became conspicuous mostly on ac
count of their absence. Capping the
climax came quarantine, causing Hesa
to cease seeing Sally, his slow-eyed
southern senorita, for six successive
weeks. Bunk Fatigue was the princi
pal pastime when not sending home
for smokes Hesa was almost discour
aged. He became desperately down
cast and disconsolate. But spring was
coming.
Spring, gentle spring! Once the fog
lifted and Hesa caught his first
glimpse of blue skies. What it the at
mosphere was thick? What if the mud
was up to his knees in the high spots?
Had he had not seen Piedmont skies
when they were blue? Forsooth, he
had; but even as he looked the blue
turned to grey, and rain trickled gent
ly in torrents on the, newly-planted
fields of cotton.
Summer. At last Hesa would have
a taste of the beautiful southland
with its wonderful climatic and at
mospheric attractions. Would Hesa en
joy it? Sure ’nuff. He spent a dollar,
four bits, for a khaki shirt, and drew
a last year’s discarded khaki uniform,
two sizes too big, in eager anticipa
tion. Was it warm? Posolutely. Friend
Mercury of the thermometer wandered
way up past the hundred mark and
remained there so long that the Sunny
Southern atmosphere was possessed of
sufficient calories _of heat to shame
Hades. Hesa’s kbiakis developed a re
markable tendency to want to do the
stamp act and stick to chairs. Per
spiration was more plentiful than
aqua pumpiana. Popular places were
bath tubs and ice boxes. Hesa fre
quently flirted with the shower bath
and made friends with the electric
fan.
Now it is fall. Hesa’s princely per
son still decorates the southern land
scape. His enthusiasm has waned.
He’s a sadder but a wiser specimen
of the Genus Homo. He wants to go
to France.
Moral—Don’t put too much faith in
“Dixie,” even though “Piedmont skies
are blue.”—Sometimes.
—By Knight Awduhlee.
SAW THE MUD.
A Doughboy returning to Camp
Wadsworth on the same train that
was bringing “Dental” Durst back to
us, told the following on one of the
company:
It seems that this fellow was re
turning from a furlough and fell asleep
on the train. When the chew-chew
drew up into Charlotte, said d. b. look
ed out, saw the mud, thought he was
HOME and got off.
The following morning his C. O.
got the following telegram;
“Dear Cap. Made a little mistake and
got off at Camp Greene. Am now with
the 122nd Inf. Peeling fine. Don’t
worry.”
Talk about your modern barbarism.
We know a certain tonsorial artist in
Charlotte (one of brown-skin varie
who ought to be practicing on that
falling star—The Kaiser. Webster
made one mistake—it should be bar
ber-ism. (This ought to get us a free
shave. How about it. Gene?)
We report the following men who
have been made sergeants: Ralph N.
Logan, Milton Maas, and D, M. Brill.
WE WILL COME.
After all the knocking, we must put
in a good word for the base hospital
band. Though they are still a little
“squeeky” and “weezy” in spots, they
surely are making wonderful improve
ment. Keep it up, boys, and when you
hold your first dance extend us an in
vitation.
NARROW ESCAPE.
Paris—L. J. Darter of Montgomery,
Ala., and three other Y. M. C. A. work
ers had a narrow escape from Bosche
shells dropped by a Hun aeroplane on
the road to erdun and only were saved
by stopping their Ford and crawling
under it.
The resurrection of baseball in the
base, didn’t even cause a ripple of ex
citement among us. Hope the medical
supply plays its next game somewhere
over there and that we won’t have to
wait till next season for the call, “Play
Ball.”
—D. M. Brill.
Red Circle Inn
West Trade and Mint Sts.
OFFICIAL
HOTEL
for Soldiers and their Families
COMFORTABLE ROOMS
Breakfasts Lunches Teas
GOOD TABLE
Conducted by War Camp Community Service
Brown's
Cafe
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The Best of the Season’s Foods and
Tastily Prepared.
17 Soutli Tryon Street
Teleplio ne 336