Re: Pink Jock Bra Brownhaired.
Thechosen Wong
Herein will be found the first stories Runyon ever wrote; alsothe last; also an intermediate series of miscellaneous tales headedby the short novel Money from Home. As a postscript isreproduced a group of eight short sketches written during Runyon'sfinal and grievous illness, which will surely survive among recordsof human courage in the very shadow of death.
"Lemme tell you about that," said Private Hanks, sitting up."Lemme relate the sad circumstances of J. Wallace Hanks' enlistmentin the Colorado State milish, and if you all don't weep, youhaven't got no hearts.
"They was a bunch of us discharged from the Fifth, in Denver, in1904. We all has a good gob of finals, and of course none of uswere going back. You all know how that is," and Private Hankslooked suggestively at Private William Casey, who had justre-enlisted that day for his fifth "hitch", after a ferviddeclaration of a week before that he was through with the servicefor ever; Private Casey at that moment being seated disconsolatelyupon his cot, red-eyed and dispirited.
"It takes me about a week to get ready to back up into therailroad building to hold up my right hand and promise Recruitin'Sergeant Wilson and Uncle Sam to love, honour, and obey, or wordsto that effect. The rest of the gang was no better off. They wasscattered up and down Larimer Street, stallin' for biscuits, anddoing the reliever act with them nice new citizens they'd bought inthe flush of their prosperity.
"We all see another three year trick sticking up as conspicuousas a Chinaman in church, but none of us is dead anxious to go backso soon. We don't want the gang out at the fort to give us the bigtee-hee after all them solemn swears and rosy air-castles we'dregaled them with when we departed. We'd like to lay off awhileuntil the novelty of our return wouldn't be so strikin'.
"Most of us is too sick to even think of looking for work. We'dmaced about everyone we could think of, from Highlands to the fort,and we're done, that's all. We're about twenty-five strong, take usaltogether, and there wasn't forty cents. Mex in the layout. Thingsis certainly looking fierce, and we're all standing around on thecorner waiting for the first guy to say the word for a break to therailroad building.
"'That's my bit,' he says. 'If you ain't got it, of course Ican't get it. The noble State of Colorado, she pays me just thesame, but when I can get it out of rummies like you, I ketches 'emcoming and going. See?'
"I did, all right, and it looks to me like it was pretty fairgraft. This guy explains the milishy business to me. There's a bigstrike on in the Coal Creek district. The milishy is out, but thereain't enough men, so they gives this employment guinea orders topick up all he can. He's just the same as a recruitin' sergeant,only different.
"I tells him about the rest of the bunch, and he agrees to take'em all. Then I went back and told the gang, and you'd oughta hearthe holler they sent up. Milishy! Nix! Not for them! They'd starvefirst, and a lot more dope like that.
"'Come out o' it!' I tells them. 'Here's a gee hungerin' to slipus two bucks a day and all found, and you hams standing around withwrinkles in your bellies, side-stepping like a bunch of mules inthe road. He takes this on while it lasts and gets a stake. TheState's good for the money, or ought to be. Come along, children,before the boogie man sloughs you in the skookum for mopery!'
"The gee I talks to sends for an officer from this milish, andhe takes charge of us. He ain't a bad feller, only he's a kid anddon't sabe the war business much. He asked me if I'd ever seenservice, and when I flashes about half a dozen parchments on him,he liked to had a fit. At that, he's a nice little feller and don'tmean no harm. Some of the guys were trying to kid him, but I made'em cut it out.
"This officer shoos us down to the depot and loads us up on atrain for Coal Creek. He asks us what we wanted to join, and ofcourse we're all out for the cavalry. It seems that was just whathe wanted. They had a troop up there that was away shy of men, anda bunch that can ride fits in mighty nice. And so a slice of thefirst squadron of the Fifth goes into the milishy business.
"I'd hustled the bunch right through the preliminaries, and theydon't get much chanst to ponder over it until they was on thetrain. And then they was sore at themselves and also me. Theybreaks up into little squads in the smoker and sits lookinggloomy-like out the window. Every onct in a while some guy wouldsigh and say:
"There's a lot of guys in uniform standing around and looking usover some curious, but we're pretty tired and don't mind. This kidofficer gives us right forward, and we climbs hills for the nexthour or so until we comes to a bunch of Sibley tents, and a rookychallenges us.
"The kid officer tells him it's Lieutenant Somebody with adetachment, and the rook yells for the officer of the day. We'refinally passed, although all hands looked at us some suspicious,and I don't blame them. Another big gang is standing aroundrubbering at us as we drills into camp, and they makes a lot offresh remarks. I'm pretty glad my bunch is tired, or there'd beenremains to clean up. We're assigned to tents, and a sergeant comesalong and gives us a couple of skinny blankets apiece. The tent hasfloors, so bunking ain't so bad as it might be, although it wascolder'n a banker's heart.
"A kid making a stab at reveille on a trumpet gets us out in themorning, and this same sergeant of blanket fame issues usmess-kits. It had snowed a few feet during the night, and we'renone too cheerful when we lines up at the mess-shack for breakfast.We didn't have no roll-call, because we hadn't give in our names.The camp is laid out pretty well, as we see it by daylight. Thecompany streets were laid out in rows on a hillside, and there wasa big stable for the cavalry horses at the bottom of the hill. Weweighs up our comrades in arms as we sees them at the mess-shack,and they're mostly kids. A few gees with very suggestive-lookingshoulders and shame-faced expressions is scattered among them.
"Later in the morning, the captain of the troop lines us upagain, swears us in, and takes our pedigrees. I listened mightyintent, but I failed to hear anyone kick in with their right nameexcepting me, and I had to do it because that kid officer had seenmy discharge. Then they issues us clothes.
"Say, you orderly-bucking stiffs, I wisht you could see themclothes right now! Most of them was second-hand, and I take it thatour predecessors in that troops had put in their time in civil lifeserving as models for ready-made cigarettes. I never heard such aholler as went up from my gang since the canteen was abolished.They cussed the state milishy, the State of Colorado, the governor,and all his hired hands, and they wound up by cussing me forgetting them into it. They was the worst-looking lot of rookies Iever saw in my life, and they was all the madder because I drew apretty fair outfit myself.
"After clothes, we were sent down to the stables to draw ourmounts. I have mentioned that those clothes caused pretty much of aholler, but it was simply a soft guffaw to the muffled roar thatthe gang let out when they saw them gallant steeds. I think theState of Colorado robbed the hack horse market of Denver when theysent out the milish, and they copped the whole crop of the previousgeneration of horses at that.
"The bunch was sore at first, but the funny side finally struckthem, and they commenced picking out the worst mutts they could.There wasn't much choice, but the lay-out my delegation drew wascertainly a fright. They had all kinds of fun kidding with themhorses and with the rest of the troop. They'd put their saddles onwrong side before, and all such foolishness, to make the troopsthink they was awful rookies.
"But if the clothes and other things were jokes, that soldieringwasn't. Nix! No play about that. I've monkeyed around in the warbusiness a few days myself, and I never struck anything any harderthan playing soldier in Colorado. You works right straight throughfrom reveille to taps. Post duty around camp; patrol mounted, andguard down in them mines where they'd drop you in a cage so fastyou had to hang on to your hat with both hands to keep your hairfrom flying off. When you got down a mile or two, they'd throw youoff with your little gun and tell you to stick there and shootanyone that batted an eye. Fine business, that!
"It seems that my bunch was about half of this cavalry troop webelonged to. In addition there was a whole regiment of foot-shakersin camp, a battery with one of them old-time Napoleon fieldpiecesand a Gat, and another big troop of cavalry. They called this lastlay-out the Denver Light Horse, and it was a bunch of swells. Mostof them looked to me like they might be calico rippers in civillife, but they sure laid it on there. They had good horses, andtheir uniforms fitted them. We looked like a bunch of volunteersfresh from the States, lined up alongside of them.
"The clothes and horses let 'em out. They weren't there withanything else, and most of them had something to say about runningthe troop. I give it to the guy that had command of us. He was acaptain named Pard, and I finds out afterwards that he was a bossmachinist or a boiler-maker in Denver when he wasn't working atthis tin snoljering business. He was a silent sort of plug, but hewas strong on the tactics. He knew what ought to be done, anyway,and when he told you to do anything, you had a hunch he meant whathe said.
"This Light Horse outfit weren't for us a-tall. The second nightwe were in camp, a large delegation comes yelling down to ourstreets, and when we looks out to see what the trouble was, wefinds they had come to toss us in blankets. Get that? Toss them oldheads from the Fifth in blankets!
"They didn't toss. Not any to speak of. We turned over fourtents coming from under them, and when the hospital corps arrived,there was ghastly bleeding remains scattered about. Naturally, wedidn't get popular with the Light Horse.
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