LET 'ER BUCK 



Then came the weeks of whipping into shape. 

 Rifles had been issued but two days, when they got 

 some ammunition — heaven knows where they rustled 

 it. Suddenly the entire camp was greeted with a fusil- 

 lade which might have been mistaken for a Boche bar- 

 rage, only to find that Troop D was tossing into the air 

 from the middle of their company street, tin cans, bot- 

 tle-necks and nickels, and shooting them on bets — hit- 

 ting 'em, too. 



The other companies stood in wholesome awe and 

 respect of the men of Troop D. This feeling was 

 somewhat crudely expressed, perhaps, by one recruit 

 from a little jerk-water town on the other side of the 

 state line to a new recruit in his company. "Don't get 

 mixed up with any of that Pendleton bunch. They 

 don't fight with their fists, — they just shoot." 



Well, it was not a bad "rep" to have, as none of the 

 Pendleton outfit denied it — and there were a few who 

 did not have to. Even nickels flipped high in the air 

 dropped plugged, before the unerring aim of many of 

 these men. But, probably, no more marvelous shot 

 was found in the entire United States army than "Tex 

 Winchester," as Howard L. Knutson was called. He 

 was an old ranger and the quickest on the draw in the 

 outfit. Their confidence in Tex, as well as their nerve, 

 was shown when any one of Troop D would stand 

 with a cigarette in his mouth and let "Tex" shoot off 

 the ashes. The climax of his remarkable feat was 

 reached, though, when he did the same trick with his 

 front sight covered with a piece of paper, slipped on 

 the muzzle of his rifle. 



Perhaps the hardest nut for the saddle-warming out- 

 fit to crack, was why they had to drill on foot when 

 they went into the cavalry. Charlie Runyan never did 



34 



