Central High School - Cog N Pen Yearbook (Newark, NJ)

Page 13 text:

“REDEEMED” By Isadore Zuckerman He had deserted. As this terrible thought plagued unmercifully upon his entire being, the consciousness of the terrihed soldier beheld the grim, unpitying fea- tures of the firing squad. The truth of it all was so unconceivable. In his first experience at the front, his spirit had broken under the unbearable strain of it all; and he had hidden when the call for attack was sounded. He had tried in vain to go on, as the rest, but something inside had prevented. Perhaps it was the terrible sights of maimed men, shell-shocked and babbling incoherently through parched and blood- less lips. But, ah! no, unfortunately it was not so; the terrible truth could not be evaded—he was a coward. A few months before he had pledged himself to defend unto death his native land. How miserably he had failed! He was a disgrace to his regiment— one of the finest in the service. How they would despise him when they heard. Those, rough, un- daunted heroes of Mars, whose steely hearts held no mercy for a coward, would curse his name for the blot he had cast upon them. And yet was he not deserving of such contempt? Far off, miles across the wide, unrelenting ocean, he could see a lonely, grey-haired woman who beheld in her mind's eye great visions of her boy's bravery in battle. While he (a sob escaped his lips), her only boy lay hidden among the debris of a recently shelled town,—a man to be despised by all—a coward. Well could he imagine the terrible effects Madame, your son has been executed for desertion in the face of fire. No black flag with the familiar gold star would hang from her window in memoriam for the upon the dear old woman as she read: sacrifice of her only son upon the altar of her country. Hs could almost hear the cruel, unmerciful words of the crude farming people of his town as they dis- gustedly pointed out his house and said: “Thar is whar she lives, the poor old widow; :he is to be pitied, for her worthless pup of a son deserted in the face of fire, a disgrace to his Ma and the town, the dirty coward. Such talk would break her proud heart, —she of the beautiful and kindly features, upon whose knee he had oft listened to those fascinating tales of childhood. But even such thoughts revolving rapidly through his fear-possessed mind. could not alter his firm decision. He would not again face those whining, destructive shells, and the snakelike machine gun projectiles which inflicted such cruel havoc upon men. On one occasion, he himself had witnessed a