But the old war-horse refused to be comforted. “We _ought_ to go on, Major,” he said doggedly. “That brings me to the other thing I said was going to happen. America, as a whole, has not yet felt this War: and she _must_, if she is to extract from it the benefit that belongs to her by right. What are a quarter of a million casualties to a nation the size of ours? We _ought_ to suffer some more, if only to save us from unreadiness and mismanagement in the future. If we stop now, all that we shall have won will be the opportunity—and you know how our orators and patriotism-mongers will use it—to announce that America just stepped in, and the War was won! It may be true; it may not; but that line of talk never did any good to any nation. We here round this table all know that, and there are thousands of folk at home who know it too. Yes, we ought to get deeper in. God knows, no one wants to make widows and orphans. But a war, however bloody, which teaches a nation its own weaknesses, is worth while. Individuals suffer, as individuals must and do; but the commonwealth gains. It is true we are losing good Americans by the hundred to-day; but we are making thousands more. Listen. A few weeks ago I was in a Field Dressing-Station, talking to the wounded. One man replied to my enquiries in a strong foreign accent. He was a splendid-looking boy—a Dane, I guess. I asked him: ‘What nationality are you?’ He looked just the least bit surprised, and replied: ‘American, sure!’ I said: ‘I can see that, son: but tell me, what _made_ you an American?’ And he laid his hand on a great whale of a wound in his side, and he said, quite simply: ‘_That_ made me an American!’ And that is what this War is doing for our big, beloved, half-grown country—making Americans! And now we’ve got to quit!” “Still,” smiled Floyd, “you have made a good many. You have a couple of million of them over here now, and they will form a very useful leaven when they get home again. He is a great man, your Doughboy, Colonel. I have been privileged to make his acquaintance, and I have seen him fight: and I take off my tin hat to him, because I know what his difficulties have been. When he gets home he will no doubt be smothered in praise—by people incapable of discriminating between the easy and the difficult things that he did. But he will deserve all that he gets, and more, on account of the difficulties he overcame which people at home know nothing about—the things that never get into the papers.” There was a sympathetic murmur from the company. The Colonel nodded. “You are right, Major,” he said cheerfully. “Meanwhile, I wish to report that I feel much better. I needed that outburst badly. Moreover, I don’t say that I have any particular _personal_ objection to a spell of Peace. I guess we can all do with a vacation. How will you celebrate your first day, Major?”