On this flaccid group Buzz burst, bomb-like. He hung his hat on the hook, wordlessly. The noise he made woke his father, as he had meant that it should. There came a muttered growl from the old man. Buzz leaned against the stairway door, negligently. The eyes of the three were on him. "Well," he said, "I guess you won't be bothered with me much longer." Ma Werner's head came up sharply at that. "What you done, Ernie?" "Enlisted." "Enlisted--for what?" "For the war; what do you suppose?" Ma Werner rose at that, heavily. "Ernie! You never!" Pa Werner was wide awake now. Out of his memory of the old country, and soldier service there, he put his next question. "Did you sign to it?" "Yeh." "When you goin'?" "To-morrow." Even Pa Werner gasped at that. In families like the Werners emotion is rarely expressed. But now, because of something in the stricken face and starting eyes of the woman, and the open-mouthed dumbfoundedness of the old man, and the sudden tender fearfulness in the face of the girl; and because, in that moment, all these seemed very safe, and accustomed, and, somehow, dear, Buzz curled his mouth into the sneer of the tough guy and spoke out of the corner of that contorted feature. "What did you think I was goin' to do? Huh? Stick around here and take dirt from the bunch of you! Nix! I'm through!" There was nothing dramatic about Buzz's going. He seemed to be whisked away. One moment he was eating his breakfast at an unaccustomed hour, in his best shirt and trousers, his mother, only half understanding even now, standing over him with the coffee pot; the next he was standing with his cheap shiny suitcase in his hand. Then he was waiting on the depot platform, and Hefty Burke, the baggage man, was saying, "Where you goin', Buzz?" "Goin' to fight the Germans." Hefty had hooted hoarsely: "Ya-a-as you are, you big bluff!" "Who you callin' a bluff, you baggage-smasher, you! I'm goin' to war, I'm tellin' you." Hefty, still scoffing, turned away to his work. "Well, then, I guess it's as good as over. Give old Willie a swipe for me, will you?" "You bet I will. Watch me!" I think he more than half meant it. And thus Buzz Werner went to war. He was vague about its locality. Somewhere in Europe. He was pretty sure it was France. A line from his Fourth Grade geography came back to him. "The French," it had said, "are a gay people, fond of dancing and light wines." Well, that sounded all right. The things that happened to Buzz Werner in the next twelve months cannot be detailed here. They would require the space of what the publishers call a 12-mo volume. Buzz himself could never have told you. Things happened too swiftly, too concentratedly.