The situation troubled him. At times he would see his mother looking steadily at him, and there was always a sadness in her face. He knew that she needed him, for the next oldest of the brothers of those who were at home was only seventeen. But his country had asked him to stand by and would call him if it needed him. The struggle within him lasted for weeks. Then he asked that they seek no exemption for him. In his presence his mother never again referred to his going, but he would see her troubled face watching him. But she talked with the influential men in the valley hoping there would be some suggestion that would honorably relieve Alvin from the duty of going. Pastor Pile had gone ahead to see what he could do, and he learned that those who were "conscientious objectors" would not have to go. The tenets of his church, he held, were against all wars. Alvin was an elder; he had subscribed to and was living the principles of his religion. He hurried home to Mrs. York. But the soldier, himself, had to make the plea for exemption, no one could make it for him. Alvin never made it. In the middle of November his summons reached him. He had but twenty-four hours to respond. He sent a note to Gracie, telling her his "little blue card" had come and he asked her to meet him at the church--which always stands open by the roadside. As they walked toward her home they arranged to meet the next morning at the rock under the beech trees, when she would leave to carry the cows to the pasture. And it was there she promised to marry him--when he returned from the war. Men at the store saw Alvin come down from the mountain and he could not escape some banterings over the success or failure of his early morning tryst. "Jes left it to her," he is said to have frankly confessed, "she can have me for the takin' when I git back." He and his mother were alone in their home for several hours. When he left he stopped at the Brooks' porch where relatives and neighbors had assembled. As he walked away he turned, unexpectedly, up the path toward the rock on the mountainside. It is now known he went there to kneel alone in prayer. When he came down to the store, to the men waiting for him, he spoke with an assured faith he had not shown before. "I know, now, that I'll be back," he told them. His mother, weeping, tho hiding it from him, had slowly followed as far as the Brooks' porch. Alvin, looking back toward the old Coonrod Pile home, saw her and waved to her, then hurried to the buggy that was to take him to Jamestown. As the grating of the moving buggy wheels on the road reached the Brooks porch, Mrs. York gave a cry that went to responsive hearts in every home in that part of the valley. And she secluded herself, and sobbed for days. VI Sergeant York's Own Story