But to the European mind our bluejacket is still something of an anomaly.
He is a credit to our public schools, a fruit of our system of universal
education. And he belongs to a service in which are reconciled,
paradoxically, democracy and discipline. One moment you may hear a
bluejacket talking to an officer as man to man, and the next you will
see him salute and obey an order implicitly.

On a wet and smoky night I went from the London streets into the
brightness and warmth of that refuge for American soldiers and sailors,
the "Eagle Hut," as the Y. M. C. A. is called. The place was full, as
usual, but my glance was at once attracted by three strapping,
intelligent-looking men in sailor blouses playing pool in a corner.
"I simply can't get used to the fact that people like that are ordinary
sailors," said the lady in charge to me as we leaned against the
soda-fountain. "They're a continual pride and delight to us Americans
here--always so willing to help when there's anything to be done, and so
interesting to talk to." When I suggested that her ideas of the navy
must have been derived from Pinafore she laughed. "I can't imagine using
a cat-o'-nine-tails on them!" she exclaimed--and neither could I. I heard
many similar comments. They are indubitably American, these sailors,
youngsters with the stamp of our environment on their features, keen and
self-reliant. I am not speaking now only of those who have enlisted
since the war, but of those others, largely from the small towns and
villages of our Middle West, who in the past dozen years or so have been
recruited by an interesting and scientific system which is the result of
the genius of our naval recruiting officers. In the files at Washington
may be seen, carefully tabulated, the several reasons for their
enlisting. Some have "friends in the service"; others wish to "perfect
themselves in a trade," to "complete their education" or "see the world"
--our adventurous spirit. And they are seeing it. They are also engaged