The Fall of a Nation

“You first, Brother Pike – “ the orator maintained.

“No – no – Brother Barker, you ride, I can walk!” Pike protested.

They finally compromised on the principles of the peace propaganda and both of them mounted the old steed – the silver-tongued orator in front and his faithful henchman behind holding to his ample waist.

The compromise worked until the horse got tired of it. At the end of an hour’s journey he refused to move another inch, bucked and threw them both in a heap. In vain they tried to move him. He not only refused to carry double, he bucked and threw Barker, who ventured to mount alone. To Pike’s horror the great orator lost his temper, swore a mighty oath and smote the beast with a gold-headed cane which he had received as a token of his supremacy as an advocate of peace.

They now had the horse on their hands as an encumbrance. Barker refused to let him loose. He was of a thrifty turn of mind even in a crisis. He determined to ship that horse West and make him earn the two fifty. So leading the steed, with stout hearts still undaunted, the two apostles passed on toward the coming foe.

CHAPTER XXVIII

WHEN the unique voluntary peace delegation finally reached the headquarters of the imperial army, the commander was conducting a prayer meeting. They must wait.

They waited with joy.

Pike’s little wizened face beamed with good will to men. From the moment he heard that the army was at prayers he had no doubt of the final outcome of their mission.

He turned once more to the soldier who had arrested and brought them in.

“Your General always leads the service?” he asked genially.

“Always – before a battle – ”

“Of – yes, yes, I see – I see – “ Pike fluttered.

“If it’s going to be a real battle,” the man continued, “he prays all night in his tent sometimes. For this little skirmish we’re going into, I don’t think the service will last more than ten minutes.”

Pike didn’t like this soldier’s conversation. He had a rude way of smiling while he talked. The President of the Peace Union decided to withhold further conversation with him.

To the amazement of Barker and Pike the divine services suddenly ended in a shout. The sinister brownish-gray hosts that knelt in prayer leaped to their feet with a fierce cry that rent the heavens:

“For God and Emperor!”

The Peace delegates were slightly distressed by this strange ending of a prayer meeting. It had an uncanny sound. There was something about the leap and shout too that suggested the rush of hosts into battle.

However, they were nothing daunted. God was with them. At least Pike knew that the Almighty was with him. Since Barker’s fall and oath and blows on that horse’s head he had moments of doubts about the orator’s perfect purity of faith. Still for one righteous man the Lord would spare a city!

Pike brushed the dust from his black broadcloth suit, adjusted his limp, dirt-smeared white bow tie and made ready to meet the foe with a plea that could not be shaken.

Barker was so absorbed in thought preparing his noble address that he remained oblivious to his dishevelled condition. His silk hat had been crushed in the second fall, and refused to be straightened. It was this fact that had caused him to lose his temper and smite the horse.

His broken tile drooped on one side in a painfully funny way that worried Pike. He gently removed the great man’s hat and tried to straighten it.

“Permit me, Brother Barker,” he said nervously. “Your hat’s a little out of plumb.”

Barker’s moon-like face was beaming now with inspiration. He made no objection. He was used to being fussed over by women and preachers. Barker turned his horse over to an obliging army hostler and took Pike’s arm from his habit of being escorted through crowds to the platform.

The soldier led them without further ceremony to the tent of the commander of the advancing army.

From the pomp and ceremony, salutes and clicking heels, the peace pioneers knew that they were being ushered into the presence of the Commander-in-chief.

General Villard, who had dashed from Waldron’s side to assume first command, came out laughing to meet them – a tall, stately figure, booted and spurred – his entire staff following. He carried a silver-mounted riding-whip in his hand and looked as if he had been born in the saddle.

“You bear a message under a flag of truce from the enemy?” he asked sharply.

Barker bowed graciously, removing his lame tile, and stood holding it on a level with his shoulder after the fashion of committees at the laying of cornerstones. His bald head and smiling open face beamed. He plunged at once into his eloquent address.

“We have come, General,” he began suavely, “in the name of a hundred million happy, peaceful citizens of this great Republic to bid you welcome to our shores. Our vast and glorious domain, washed by two oceans, stretching from the frozen peaks of Alaska to the eternal sunshine and flowers of the tropics, is large enough for all who bless us with their coming.

“We welcome you as brothers! We want you to stay with us. We offer you the blessings of peace and freedom. We do not meet you with guns. We come with smiles and flowers, extend our hands and say: ‘God bless you!’ ”

The orator was swept away with the melodious sound of his own voice. He replaced his crushed hat and extended his hand in a smile of glowing enthusiasm.

With a sudden crash the silver-mounted riding-whip whistled through the air and tore through the orator’s tile. The battered hat fell into pieces and dropped to the ground revealing an ugly red lane across the great man’s shining bald pate.

Barker was too dumfounded to dodge or protest. The thing happened with such swiftness, it had stunned him into silence.

Pike danced nervously on first one foot and then the other, lifting his hands in little attempts at apologies.

“Hats off in the presence of your superiors!” the General thundered.

Pike’s hat was already off. He hadn’t ventured to put it on. Still he ducked his head instinctively and then rushed into the breach.

“My dear General,” he pleaded. “You do not understand, I am sure. No possible offense could have been intended by my distinguished colleague. It is the custom of our country often to speak with hats on in the open air. The Honorable Plato Barker is a veteran outdoor speaker, your Excellency. He is one of the most distinguished men in America – ”

“That is nothing to me,” the General curtly interrupted. “He stands in the presence of an officer of his Imperial Majesty’s Army. Your greatest civilian is my inferior. Keep that in mind when in the presence of your superiors – proceed!”

Barker was too astonished and hurt to say more. For the first time in his illustrious career as a peddler of words, he had failed to move his audience to accept his wares at any price. His world had collapsed. He could only rub the swelling red line on his head and glance uneasily about his unpromising surroundings.

The preacher’s hour had struck. He rose grandly to the occasion. His manner was the quintessence of courtly deference, nervously anxious deference.

“My name is Pike,” he began tremblingly – “the Reverend A. Cuthbert Pike, D.D., president of the American Peace Union – ”

“Proceed, Cuthbert!” was the short answer.

“We have come, your Excellency – “ he paused and bowed low – “to initiate here today for all the world a constructive policy that will eliminate the necessity for war. Our plan is the appeal to reason.

“We marvel at the amazing delusion that has led Europe into this unprovoked and unnecessary assault. Nobody wants war – least of all I’m sure the great General who knows its full horrors.

“The only question, therefore, is how best to prevent it. This nation has always been too strong, too great in the consciousness of her strength, to desire war. We have sixteen million men ready to die at our call! Why should we sacrifice their precious lives? To what end if we can by any means save them?

“The prime cause, your Excellency – “ again he bowed low – “of war is excessive armament – ”

The General laughed heartily, and adjusted his glasses for a better look at Pike. The little man was slightly flustered at this act of uncertain import, but went on bravely in spite of Barker’s look of dejection.

“We proclaim it to all nations that we are not ready to fight, and that we are glad of it because it is not possible in this condition for us to threaten or bully anyone! An unarmed man has ten chances to one over the armed man in keeping out of trouble!”

Again the General laughed and looked the preacher over from head to foot.

“Boundaries,” Pike proceeded, “when armed constantly provoke clashes of the forces on either side. Boundaries unarmed, as the long line between us and Canada, promote fellowship and good will.

“We say to your Excellency, come let us reason together. We are determined not to be dragged into war. We have negotiated thirty treaties with the nations of the world, some of whom your army represents, providing for a year’s delay before hostilities can begin.

“We claim our rights under these solemn treaties and ask of you an armistice for twelve months for the discussion of our differences.

“Name your demands and we will lay them before our Congress. Tell us your real mission and we will help you to accomplish it. Make us your friends and fellow workers. Why have you come?”

“I’ll tell you,” snapped the General. “For two hundred years you have been keeping a great pigsty on this continent, in which swine have rooted and fattened on the abundance of nature which you haven’t had the brains to conserve.

“Well – it’s time to clean up and make sausage! We have come for that work. We have come to teach a race of slatterns the first principles of law, order and human efficiency. We have come to clean this pigpen, put swine-herders into aprons and give them the honor of serving their superiors – and therefore for the first time in life doing something worth while.

“You are sick with overeating and much prosperity. Our Emperor sends you a tonic of blood and iron warranted to cure all ills. Our benign sovereign is the world’s physician. He takes his crown and divine commission from God alone. On him the Divine Spirit has descended. In his luminous mind is the wisdom of the ages. He who dares to oppose his royal will shall be ground to powder beneath the iron heel of his soldiers. You speak of a hundred million people as if their opinion was of the slightest value. Public opinion is the source of public ills. You speak of treaties. Treaties are the thin disguises by which divinely chosen leaders conceal their ultimate aims!

“Might is right and the right can only be decided by the sword. War in itself is the fiery furnace that tries man’s character. The dross perishes. The pure gold shines with greater splendor. Efforts to abolish war are foolish and immoral. Peace is not our aim or desire. The sight of suffering does one good. The infliction of suffering does one more good. This war will be conducted as ruthlessly as science and human genius can make possible – ”

He paused and turned to an orderly.

“The bald-headed one to the bakery! He has forfeited his life by daring to purchase a horse that belongs to his Majesty. I graciously spare his life. Tell my head cook to make him a scullion. If he’s any good report to me at the end of the month and I’ll promote him to the honor of acting as my valet. He has a beautiful voice. He could be trained to yodel – ”

Barker lifted his hand to protest and the orderly kicked him into a trot. When he turned to protest, the bayonet changed his mind.

Pike watched his chief disappear with a groan of amazement.

The General and his staff gathered around the Reverend President of the Peace Union with jovial faces. They were inclined to like him. He had contributed something new to the hilarity of nations. They put on their glasses, adjusted and removed them, adjusted them again, looked him up and down, turned him around and wagged their heads gravely.

“Well, gentlemen,” the Commander laughed, “we’re all agreed that it’s a rare specimen – the real question is – what is it?”

Each answer brought a roar of laughter.

“It looks like a man – ”

“Can’t be!”

“It might have been once!”

“But not now!”

“A new microbe?”

“Sure – that’s it – the microbe Pacificus americanus!”

The preacher fidgeted in a sorry effort to smile with his tormentors.

“I suppose, of course, gentlemen,” Pike fluttered, “as I’m a tenderfoot you will have your little jokes – it’s all in the day’s work – so to speak – as it were!”

The Commander turned to a sergeant.

“Put an apron on this little man and make him a dishwasher – tin dishes – he might ruin my silver – ”

The officers roared.

“If he’s any good I’ll make a butler out of him. I like his whiskers. They’re distinctly English – ”

With a loud guffaw the staff dispersed and the General turned to his tent.

Pike danced a little jig in his effort to recall the judge and correct the error of his sentence.

The sergeant gave him a resounding smack on the side of his head that spun him round like a top.

Pike was livid with rage. He bristled like a bantam rooster for a minute to the amazement of his guard.

“Don’t do that! Don’t do it – don’t do it again! Upon my soul, this surpasses human belief, sir! I shall denounce the whole proceeding in a series of resolutions that will resound over this nation – mark my word!”

The soldier waited until Pike’s breath ran short and then kicked him three feet, lifting him clear of the ground. When the preacher struck he fell flat on his face.

The blow took out of him what wind there was left.

He scrambled to his feet and edged out of reach.

“I – I – return – good for evil, sir – “ he stammered at last. “I bless them that despitefully use me – God bless you!”

The soldier snorted with rage and gave him another kick, crying: “The same to you! And many of ’em!”

When Pike scrambled to his feet again and wiped the dust out of his lips he shook his head in despair:

“God bless my soul! God bless my soul!”

The Sergeant grinned in his face.

“Cheer up, Cuthbert, you’ll soon be dead!”

Ten minutes later he thrust poor Pike into the kitchen inclosure and shouted to the cook:

“The sooner you kill him the better – go as far as you like!”

CHAPTER XXIX

TO Vassar sleep had been impossible for the past two nights. He dozed for an hour during the day from sheer exhaustion, but the nearer the hour came for the test of strength between the opposing armies on which hung the fate of a hundred million people, the deeper became his excitement.

All life seemed to mirror itself in a vast luminous crystal before his eyes – the past, the present, the future.

He nodded in the saddle as he watched the construction of the second line of entrenchments five miles in the rear of the first. He wondered at the long reach of that first possible retreat. It was an ominous sign. It revealed the fear in the heart of the American commander.

He fell into a fevered dream. Far up in the sky he saw the sneering face of the Devil bending low over our shores and from his right hand shaking dice. The dice were the skulls of men. They rattled over the wide plain of our coming battlefield. The hideous face twisted with demoniac laughter as he shook the skulls and threw again.

He watched the game with bated breath. The count was made at last and we had lost!

And yet somehow it was well with the dreamer’s soul. An angel took him by the hand and led him from the field on which the skulls lay.

He looked at the angel and it was the face of his beloved. With a cry of joy he woke to find a courier by his side with a message from General Hood.

He rubbed his eyes and smiled for the joy of the dream that still lingered in his heart and quickly read the order.

To Colonel Vassar:

Please report immediately to the officer in command at Babylon and tell him to entrench his men at once. We shall make our third and last stand there.

(Signed) Hood.

Vassar scribbled a reply and turned his horse’s head to the staff headquarters.

Babylon was home! He would see his little girls on the eve of battle – but more than all he hoped to see Virginia.

He was still hoping and fearing as he delivered his horse to the hostler and ordered an automobile.

He was just leaping into the machine when Billy appeared on his motor-cycle and handed him a crumpled sealed note.

The boy saluted, smiled and turned back.

It was too good to be true – and yet there it was in his hand – a letter from Virginia!

He waved to the chauffeur:

“To Babylon – headquarters – third reserves – ”

The machine swept down the white smooth turnpike and he settled into his seat still holding the precious message unopened.

He broke the seal at last and read through dimmed eyes:

“Come to me at the earliest possible moment. I have much to tell you. I can’t write – ”

There was no formal address. There was no name signed. He kissed the delicately lined words and placed the note in his inside pocket.

What did the foolish happiness in his soul mean? Could fate mock him with an hour’s joy and send him to his death tomorrow? He would ride where men were falling like leaves before the sun should set – there could be no doubt of that. He shut his eyes and could see only the face of the woman he loved. He wondered what she would say? He wondered if she would make him ask her forgiveness for the wrong she herself had done, woman-like?

He would be afraid to kiss her again – Nonsense! She couldn’t refuse her lips if she loved. He’d risk it again if he died for it.

He delivered his orders and turned without delay for the Holland homestead. The flowers were in glorious bloom again.

The sun was sinking behind the trees in scarlet and purple glory. His father strolled thoughtfully across the lawn with one arm around Zonia and Marya’s hand clasped in his.

As the car turned into the drive and swept toward the house, the girls saw him and rushed with cries of joy to smother him with kisses.

“Our men are ready?” his father asked gravely.

“To die – yes – they are as ready as they can be without drill or quipment – or artillery to defend them.”

The old man shook his head.

“And the enemy – they are many?”

“A hundred and sixty thousand hardened veterans and the most magnificent equipment of the modern world – ”

Old Andrew Vassar lifted his hands in a gesture of pain.

“God help us!”

“Only He can now. We’ve done our best – that’s all – ”

He paused and turned to Zonia whispering softly:

“Where is she?”

The girl nodded toward the rose-embowered oak.

“Waiting for you. Billy telephoned us. She’s been there ever since.”

Vassar hurried across the lawn. The twilight was deepening and the new moon hung a half crescent in the evening sky.

She rose as he passed the trellis and stood smiling tenderly until he came close. Her hands were clasped tightly. Neither was extended to greet him.

She lifted her eyes to his in a long, tender gaze, deliberately slipped both arms around his neck and kissed his lips.

He held her close in a moment of strangling joy. She lifted her lips to his again, and spoke in tones so low that only the heart of love could hear:

“My darling – my own – my hero – my mate! I’ve loved you always from the first. I was too proud to surrender my will and mind, my body and soul to any man. I went away into the mountains to fight it out and love conquered, dear! I surrendered before I knew that your prophetic soul was right in sensing this black hour in life. I’m glad I gave up before I knew. It’s all love’s victory, dearest. I love you. I love you – I love you – and now Death is going to throw his shadow between us – ”

A sob caught her voice.

“But I shall love you through all eternity and I thank God for this holy hour in which we meet and know, face to face – ”

For two glorious hours they sat and held each other’s hands in the soft light of the half-fledged moon.

And then he rose, kissed her again and swiftly rode into the night toward the red dawn of Death.

CHAPTER XXX

THE grim gray wave of destruction from the sand dunes had rolled into battleline and spread out over the green clothed hills and valleys of the Island – swiftly, remorselessly, with an uncanny precision that was marvelous.

The scouts were soaring in the clear blue skies with keen eyes searching for the position of our guns.

As they found them, a puff of black smoke streamed downward and the distant officer, perched high on his movable observation tower, took the range and called it mechanically to the gunners of his battery.

Our rifles cracked in vain. The birdmen laughed and paid no attention. We had no high-powered, high-angle guns that could touch them. Over every section of our lines the huge vultures hung in the air and circled.

The giant guns miles away beyond the distant hills toward Southampton began to roar. Their first shells fell short from five to six hundred yards.

Our boys gazed over their earthworks and watched the geysers of earth and stone and smoke leap into the heavens and sink back in dull crashes. The wind brought in the acid fumes of the poisonous gases.

They stood in silence, clutching their rifles and waiting for the word to fire.

The vultures circled again and dropped more smoke balls. The invisible gunners at their places caught the singsong call from the tower, touched a wheel and raised the noses of their gray monsters the slightest bit.

Again the earth trembled. The air vibrated with the rush of projectiles like the singing of telegraph wires far above the heads of the listening men.

They struck within a hundred yards of where Vassar sat with the field telephone at his ear awaiting General Hood’s orders – a giant shell landed squarely in our trenches, tore a cavern in the earth sixteen feet deep, hurling our mangled men in every direction. Within a radius of a hundred feet no living thing could be seen when the smoke and dust had cleared. Those who had not been killed by stone and flying fragments of iron had been smothered to death where they stood by the deadly fumes.

Our guns answered now in deep thunder peals that shook the trenches.

For two hours without a pause the artillery of both armies sent their mighty chorus crashing into the heavens, their missiles of death whistling through the skies.

The fire of the enemy was incredibly accurate. Their shells struck our trenches with unerring certainty – and where one struck there was nothing left but an ugly crater in the ground. They simply annihilated every object in their track and left a mass of blackened dust and pulp.

Gun after gun of our batteries were silenced.

The vultures were still soaring aloft calling the range of each concealed battery as the fight revealed its place.

The battle had opened at dawn. By ten o’clock fifty pieces of our artillery had been reduced to junk and one-third of our trenches pulverized into shapeless masses of dust, broken stone and gaping caverns.

Apparently our heavy gun fire had made no impression on the enemy. Their long range pieces were hurling death with a steady clock-like regularity that was appalling. Our army was being ground to dust without a chance to strike their hidden foe. We had never possessed an aviation corps of any serviceable strength. The year before the nucleus of one had been authorized by Congress. This little group of efficient men had followed the fleet into the Pacific and the remaining dozen had been left to die in our tragic meeting with the armada.

General Hood possessed but two aeroplanes. It was madness to send them up against two hundred of the enemy. By an accident to his machinery a taube had fallen within our lines. The men had been captured, their uniforms taken, and delivered to General Hood. The machinery of the hostile aeroplane was promptly repaired, our blond sky pilot forced himself into the greenish-gray suit and stood by waiting for the chance to rise in a cloud of smoke and take his chance among the enemy as a spy.

At noon a wave of fog slowly crept in from sea and the guns had died away. As the mist rolled over the battlefield Hood stood beside the courier of the skies.