Trooper Tales — page 180: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

168 The Good Which Was in Him. tling very loudly and trying to forget. And that night the trooper who had once been a college student wrote a long letter to the American maiden whose father was a Con- gressman. Long after taps had sounded and all other soldiers save the sentries were asleep, there was still a light in the orderly room, and Allen was still writing. The city of San Juan looked vague and far-away be- hind the harbor mists. The white walls of Castle Morro were indefinite in clouds of gray. And when Allen, Number Two, could see the Porto Rican capital no longer, he tore open the sealed letter which the troop-clerk had given him. Some of it is here: “TI suppose you wondered how it all came about. We knew how you felt, Kid. We could see that the life was killing you, and, to be honest, I was afraid you might do something to disgrace that town which we both love. And then I would have had to put a dirty word across . your name in the troop-books. You couldn’t have been happy at home if you went that way. “You see, I had some friends in Washington, who got a discharge for me, but J mislaid the descriptive list, made ‘17’ out of the ‘7’ in the dates, and the discharge was yours. Of course, I couldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been troop-clerk. “There were reasons why I didn’t care particularly about going home, but I knew what you suffered every day in the troop. Don’t feel sorry over this, because I’m tough and can stand ‘soldiering’ a little longer. Good- by, Kid, and good luck.” GOmMmicbdooks;co