“I can qualify there all right,” said Frank.
“And as for your brother, he must weigh not less than 115 pounds, and be also sixty-four inches tall.”
“I’m that all right, though Frank is more,” put in Ned.
“Well, a little more in Frank’s case won’t matter—so much the better,” the surgeon remarked.
He then went into medical details, which need to be touched on only to remark that neither Frank nor Ned was found to have any physical defect that would bar him from the service. Their teeth were good and sound, and of course you know that of late years the United States government, as well as all foreign governments, requires that their best fighters have good teeth. Those that are filled are counted as sound, provided there are not too many of them.
It is not so much to “bite the enemy,” as one soldier, who was refused enlistment, said he seemed expected to do, as it is that with unsound teeth food cannot be properly chewed, and in these days “an army fights on its stomach.”
“Well, I can’t find anything the matter with you,” announced the doctor pleasantly, after the examination was over.
“You tried hard enough,” Frank remarked, laughing.
“Well, that’s my business—I have to do it. I wouldn’t want to pass you and have you sent to a training station, only to learn there, later, that you must be rejected. That would be a bad mark against my ability.
“But as it is, I’ll almost guarantee that you’ll pass when you come up before the medical officer. I wish all the recruits were as strong and healthy as you two.”
This was a fine compliment, and Frank and Ned appreciated it.
“Well, so far so good,” remarked Sergeant Berk, when the doctor had put away his stethoscope and finished filling out the blanks. “Now you boys will have to be sent to a training station, and at present my orders are to ship all enlisted men from here to Norfolk. I hope you don’t mind going there, but if you do perhaps you can get a transfer later.”
“Norfolk suits us right down to the ground!” exclaimed Frank. “We may get a chance to see our uncle,” he added.
“Not right away, I’m afraid,” was the sergeant’s answer. “You’ll be kept pretty busy learning your new duties. Are you going in for any special line of work?”
“Why, we want to work on a battleship!” exclaimed Ned. “Fire the guns, I suppose.”