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Page 33 text:
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THE DART 29 Eight years before the Great War a German widow with her two sons came to America, to the great land of freedom and of plenty. During their first year in the new country both the mother and the older son, who was then seventeen years old, worked to earn their living and to send young Max to the public school. By the next year Frederick was able to support the small family. Thus they had been living quite happily for several years when Germany declared war and all Europe was on fire. Then one day Frederick, who was very much excited by the day’s paper, declared that he would go back to Germany to fight. “Aeh, my son, but this is not our war! Why should you go? What shall we do without you?” But when a report of another advance came, he no longer listened to his mother, but sailed on the next liner, leaving Max to support his mother and himself. “I am happy, my mother. I am fighting for the Fatherland. Some day we shall have conquered the world and shall bring German Kultur to all peoples,” Frederick wrote. The mother thot little, then, of the meaning of the war. She feared only the death of her son. But when the United States was threatened, she realized its seriousness and thot of her other son. Should he or could he fight against the Fatherland? “Mother, would you wish me to fight against Germany if the United States should enter the war?” Max asked her. But she put him off. “Hush, my boy; how can I know what I would wish. But we will not enter the war.” But the day came when the United States did enter—declared war on Germany, declared war for the democracy of the world. Max burst in upon his mother, waving an “extra,” with glaring headlines. “Mother, I must go,” he said. “Yes, my son, you must go.” That was all that was said. She was a brave mother; she would have no one left now, but she had left her native country because of its militarism and autocracy. Would she wish that militarism and autocracy to follow her to her new home? No. She gladly gave her son to fight it, to fight for the freedom she had found. Max enlisted and was sent to a training camp. He was among the first to go to France, and in due time was sent to the front line trenches. For only one thing was Max afraid, and that was that he might meet his brother. Could he do what surely was his duty? When he thot of this, cold chills ran down his back. In the same company there was a young Irish lad. Terry Donovan enlisted because he had always hated the Germans. Terry was suspicious—always suspecting someone
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Page 34 text:
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30 THE DART to lx a German spy, especially if one had a name of German origin. Terry had his eye on Max, for Max had a German face. “What’s that boy’s name? he asked one day of a Sammy near him. “Oh, that is Max Blunier, the Sammy told him. “Aha, I thot so! I've got to keep my eye on him. A day or two later he said to a few about him, “That Max Blunier is a spy.” They laughed. “Oh, you don’t believe me! Well, I’ve watched him, and every once in a while he’d shudder and so I went over and talked to him. I said that I was glad that we’d have some action soon and that I was just achin’ to get a Fritzy. He sort of shuddered and said that he’d be glad, too. that anything would be better than these trenches. Guess he’s aiming to get into one of the German trenches as soon as he gets a chance. Oh, I know you fellows think I’m spy-mad, but you just watch him and see for yourselves. I’m going to keep my eye on him. And ’tho they laughed, they did as Terry said. The long waiting and suspense was hard on Max. A raid was expected in a day or two, but a day of waiting in a trench is a long day. He wanted to go over—he wanted action. ng and thinking made it harder. He was afraid that he would be a coward when the test came. Once as jolly as the others, he became silent and moody and withdrew from his comrades, and his companions were half inclined to believe Terry. Finally, the order came that they were to be ready for an attack in thirty minutes. Each again made sure that all was ready, and waited. At last the signal was given. If the Sammies had had time in the next half hour to keep their eyes on Max, they would not have found any ground for suspicion. He fought madly right and left, and Boche after Boche went down before him. All fear of the dreaded meeting left; he was now fighting for Freedom! Few came from the attack without wounds. When a lull finally came with no decisive victory for either side and both were returning to their own trenches, Max, whose left arm hung limp, pierced by a bayonet, came upon 'ferry lying helplessly wounded. With difficulty he lifted him to his back and slowly carried him back to their trench. After receiving first aid, the wounded were sent to a base hospital. Here Max's arm soon healed and he insisted upon returning to his company, but Terry’s case was a hopeless one. His last words were, “What’s in a •)«« name: Why Mary had a little lamb Will tell you in a trice, You see it wasn't meatless day And Mary had the price.
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