Where the Souls of Men are CallingHarris, Credo Fitch
General
Where the Souls of Men are Calling
Harris, Credo Fitch
World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
"Oh, Jeb," Marian leaned impulsively toward him, "you can't possibly
know how happy that makes me!"
The rails were beginning to hum, and a glaring headlight shot into view.
It was but a matter of seconds then before the brake-shoes ground upon
the metal wheels--another few seconds for hasty adieux--and the train
was off again.
Jeb and the Colonel watched the two red signal lights growing smaller,
until shut out by a curve; but they continued to stand, listening to the
rumble as it faded into the distance--into the dawn of a new world,
where the souls of men were calling, and from which the souls of
slackers stood back in fear!
When the last faint sound had become lost, and the purity of the night
was undisturbed, the two saddened men turned by mutual consent and
walked slowly homeward.
CHAPTER V
Three days later Mr. Strong returned and took up his duties with stoic
bravery. Marian had sailed with a unit happening to be in need of
nurses, and by now, he told the Colonel, she must be far out upon the
ocean. Each time the telegraph operator entered the anxious father's
heart stood still--for there were nests of conscienceless submarines
waiting for just such prey! But the cable came at last announcing:
"Safe. Quickly front." It required no translation to know that she was
doubtless at that moment speeding on her mission of mercy to the
trenches. For an hour the two old men sat without speaking, moodily
staring out of the window.
No word came from Washington, other than a polite note from the
Congressman which stated that books, such as he presumed the gentlemen
wanted, were much in demand but would be sent if procurable. From the
War Department--nothing!
At the expiration of another week, however, the official envelope
arrived. In warm terms its writer appreciated the patriotism of
Hillsdale, but regretted that uniforms and rifles were not being issued
just at present to organizations such as the gallant company in
question. The Colonel had inserted that word "gallant" when reading this
at a meeting called for the purpose, assuaging his conscience with the
excuse of civic necessity. He pointed out, also, that the equipment was
tentatively promised--if one chose to interpret the letter in this way;
and, of course, everyone did so choose. Then came another wait through
which the Colonel and Mr. Strong grew more and more depressed. For hours
they would sit in semi-silence, intermittently exchanging thoughts of
Marian and Jeb.
Since Jeb's name had been entered on the roster book he felt chained to
a slowly gnawing torture, for any train might bring over an army man to
administer the oaths of allegiance, and there would then be no escape.
But as weeks passed and nothing happened he began to breathe more
hopefully. The depression, born of fear, was wearing off, while the
self-satisfied conceit slunk back into its former place. It would have
been safe to say that Jeb was close to normal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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