Newspaper Articles

Would ‘Treat ‘em Rough’

April 18, 1918

Four men stood outside the army recruiting office at Twelfth Street and Grand Avenue at 7:45 o’clock this morning when the sergeant opened up. A stout, red faced man wearing a khaki shirt was the first up the stairs.

“I’m the treat ‘em rough man,” he bawled. “That cat in the poster has nothing on me. Where do you join the tankers?”

“Have to wait for Lieutenant Cooter,” said the sergeant. “He decides whether you’ll treat ‘em rough or not.”

The fat man waited outside the door. By 9 o’clock thirty men crowded the third floor hallway. The stout man was nearest the door. Just behind him was a gray haired man wearing a derby, a well cut gray suit, a purple tie, socks to match and a silk handkerchief with a light purple border peeping from his vest pocket.

“I’m over draft age and it doesn’t matter what my profession is,” he said. “I never really wanted to get into this war before, but the tanks are different. I guess I can treat ‘em rough.”

The crowd grew steadily. By 10 o’clock there were forty applicants. Some of the men were humming, others talking among themselves. The stout man, perspiration pouring down his face, held his place next the door. He tried to whistle, but his lips woul dn’t pucker. He stood on one foot, then the other. He mopped his face with a handkerchief, and finally bolted out through the crowd.

“He looked pretty hot but he got cold feet,” a mechanic in overalls commented.

After the fat man left there was a slight exodus. A high school boy with a geometry book decided in favor of school. Two flashily dressed youths said, “Aw, let’s get a beer.” One man, saying nothing, slipped away.

Can’t stand the gaff,” said…