The charge of quarters hustled through the barracks switching on lights and waking platoon sergeants who in turn woke the squad leaders who then called and shook the members of their squads into consciousness. like a suspended chain shaken at the top, rippling to the last link.

Missing from the men was the customary early morning sourness. The usual profane bitching had a light-hearted note to it. The habitual sleepy heads seemed less drugged.

After reveille and breakfast the barracks were given a thorough scrubbing and inspection. Sports were organized but hearty competition was absent; the men's minds drifted easily from the play.

To us this day marked the end of an era -- an age during which the veneer of civilization was painfully ground away and we were trained to kill. Now we were going out to validate our training. This day brought to a close the sojourn at Camp Polk. It presaged a new adventure. Most were eager to go, yet some were sad.

The air of that memorable sunny Saturday afternoon reverberated to our yells of "This is it! This is it!" as we climbed' aboard Army trucks to be transported to the railway siding. It was 1330 as the trucks pulled away from the old company area.

The air of that memorable sunny Saturday afternoon reverberated to our yells of "This is it! This is it!" as we climbed' aboard Army trucks to be transported to the railway siding. It was 1330 as the trucks pulled away from the old company area.

In our hands were mimeographed copies of several "rousing" songs including the Engineers' own Alma Mater. But the spell of leaving was upon us. We were too excited to do anything but cheer hoarsely. There were the few, though, who viewed the empty, staring barracks with a poignant feeling in their breasts, for in this camp and the surrounding hills and swamps a year and a half of precious life had been spent -- the scene of much hardship and loneliness and of many laughs and' close comradeship.

It was 1430 when the train jerked to a start. The air was close, humid full of dust. A Negro military band, uniforms wilted with perspiration, playing "Auld Lang Syne." We, of course, stuck our heads out the windows called crazily for jive numbers.

The train sped smoothly through the night, north through Leesville. To Shreveport and then veered sharply eastwards. The next morning found us across the wide, silt laden Mississippi, deep into the state, its namesake.

Our train was the last of the mighty convoy that was needed to transport the 8th A.D. - seventy five trains in all we were told, Our company was separated from the rest of the battalion staff (privately referred to as the Gestapo). This was welcomed by all who looked forward to a journey lacking the usual eye wash which seemed so unnecessary and which made life as an EM (enlisted man) unbearable at times.

When most of us entered the service there was a war for survival in progress. We were eager and keen to do our jobs. But as time passed, the staggering inefficiency of the Army weighed upon us. The red tape, politics, favoritism and graft that oozed from above undermined our ideals. The pettiness and childishness of so many interpretations of regulations, the caprices and whims of certain men in positions of authority destroyed our respect. Eagerness became expectation, expectation disappointment, disappointment indifference, indifference bitterness, boredom or sheer desperation. There is nothing worse than to waste the energy of a great impulse, to keep it frustrated, to forbid its action.

The train was traveling eastward. This practically ruled out the Pacific Theater of Operations to which no one was over-enthusiastic about going. Moreover, the majority of the men in the company had been recruited from the New England States. As we continued on our journey, hope, like quicksilver in a thermometer on a hot day, rose in the minds of most that they would get one more opportunity to visit home before going overseas. For the one thing paramount in the thoughts of the soldier whether in the States or overseas, was home. He was willing to risk chevrons, money and court-martial for a little time at home.

The train thundered through the lazy, dusty villages of Mississippi on into Alabama. The train rolled east, the sun west and still no weapons inspection, no short arm. An hour before dusk we pulled into Birmingham where we saw a train bearing some of the rest of our battalion. On we went as the shades of night enveloped us, up through a corner of Georgia and into the Carolinas, into the next day.

The foothills of the Carolinas and the Virginias were a Jacob's coat of colors. Fall was wearing her most radiant garments. America seemed a vast land of unending harmony and inspiration..

That evening we reached Washington, D.C., thence to Maryland, Delaware and through Philadelphia via the Chestnut St. Station at five o'clock in the morning.

Even though physiologists maintain that bodily metabolism reaches its lowest ebb in the wee hours of the morning resulting in lowered morale and mental activity, our passage through Philadelphia occasioned a great deal of excitement for there was a large group of Philly boys in the company; and as the train rolled along, we came within a few hundred feet of some of their homes.

Relentlessly the train went on its way.