"
"And what happens after Second Camp?"
"It's hard to explain. Our system is so illogical. Theoretically, the
boys needn't show up for the next three or four years after Second Camp.
They are supposed to be making their way in life. Actually, the young
doctor or lawyer or engineer joins a Volunteer battalion that sticks to
the minimum of camp--ten days per annum. That gives him a holiday in the
open air, and now that men have taken to endowing their Volunteer
drill-halls with baths and libraries, he finds, if he can't run to a
club, that his own drill-hall is an efficient substitute. He meets men
there who'll be useful to him later, and he keeps himself in touch with
what's going on while he's studying for his profession. The
town-birds--such as the chemist's assistant, clerk, plumber, mechanic,
electrician, and so forth--generally put in for their town Volunteer
corps as soon as they begin to walk out with the girls. They like takin'
their true-loves to our restaurants. Look yonder!" I followed his gaze,
and saw across the room a man and a maid at a far table, forgetting in
each other's eyes the good food on their plates.
"So it is," said I. "Go ahead."
"Then, too, we have some town Volunteer corps that lay themselves out to
attract promising youths of nineteen or twenty, and make much of 'em on
condition that they join their Line battalion and play for their county.
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