IV
They walked along for a bit in silence, Jimmie trying to assimilate
these ideas. They were new--not in the sense that he had not heard
them before, but in the sense that he had not heard them from a
German. "How does your father feel?" he asked at last.
"He hasn't changed," replied the other. "And that makes it pretty
hard--it's all we can do to keep from quarrelling. He's old, and new
ideas don't come to him easily. Yet you'd think he'd be the first to
see it--his father was one of the old revolutionists, he was put in
jail in Dresden. I don't suppose you know much about the history of
Germany."
"No," said Jimmie.
"Well, in those days the German people tried to get free, and they
were put down by the troops, and the real revolutionists were driven
into exile. Some of them came over here--like my grandfather. But,
you see, their children have forgotten about their wrongs--they look
back on Germany now, and think of it sentimentally, as it's pictured
in the stories and songs--a sort of Christmas-tree Germany. They
don't know about the Germany that's grown up--the Germany of iron
and coal kings, that combines all the cruelty of feudalism with
modern efficiency and science--the Beast with the Brains of an
Engineer!"
They walked on, Emil lost in thought. "You know," he broke out,
suddenly, "this war has been a revelation to me--the most horrible
you could imagine. It's as if you loved a woman, and saw her go
insane before your eyes, or turn into some sort of degenerate. For I
believed in the Christmas-tree Germany; I loved it, and I argued for
it, I just couldn't bring myself to believe what I read in the
papers. Now I look back, and it seems like a trap that the German
war-lords had set for my mind--reaching way over here into America,
and making me think what they wanted me to! Perhaps I've gone to the
other extreme--I find I distrust everything that's German. Father
accused me of it last night; he was singing an old German song that
says that when you hear men singing you may lie down in peace, for
bad men have no songs. And I reminded him that the nation which
taught that idea had marched into Belgium singing!"
"Gee!" exclaimed Jimmie. He could imagine how old Hermann Forster
had taken that remark!
The young carpet-designer smiled, rather sadly. "He says it's
because I've put on khaki. But the truth is, I'd been full of these
thoughts, and all at once they came to a head. I was drafted, and I
had to make up my mind one way or the other. I decided I'd
fight--and then, when I'd decided, I wanted to get into it right
away." Emil paused, and looked at his friend and asked, "What about
you?"
Jimmie, of course, was a draft-evader, one of the hated "slackers".
Ordinarily, he would have told Emil, and the two of them would have
grinned. But now Emil was in khaki, Emil was a patriot; perhaps it
would not be wise to trust him entirely! "They haven't got me yet,"
said Jimmie; and then, "I ain't so sure as I used to be, but I ain't
ready to be a soldier--I dunno's I could stand bein' bossed like
that fellow does it."
Emil laughed. "Don't you suppose I want to learn?"
"But does he need to call you names?"
"That's part of the game--nobody minds that. He's putting the pep
into us--and we want it in."
Jimmie found that such a new point of view that he didn't know what
to reply.
"You see," the other went on, "if you really want to fight, you go
in for it; it's quite remarkable how your feelings change. You
imagine yourself in the presence of the enemy, and you know your
success depends on discipline; if there's a leader, and especially
if you feel that he knows his business, you're glad to have him to
teach you, to make the whole machine do what you want it to. I know
it sounds funny from me, but I've learnt to love discipline." And
Emil laughed, a nervous laugh. "This army means business, let me
tell you; and it's got right down to it. They've been fighting three
and a half years over in Europe, and they send their best men over
to show us, and we dig in and learn--I tell you, we work as if the
devil was after us!"
