Part 20 (1/2)

”Do I remember!” exclaimed Charlie. ”I remember how you said it was your job to take the chance because I, being an officer, was worth more to the cause and because the loss of a private didn't matter so much anyhow.”

John retorted quickly, ”And you said that it was up to you to take the chance because it was an officer's duty to take care of his men.”

”And then,” said Charlie, ”you told me to go to h.e.l.l, commission and all. And I swore that I'd break you for insolence and insubordination if we ever got out of the sc.r.a.pe alive.”

”And so,” grinned John, ”we compromised by pulling it off together. And from that time on I felt different and was as proud of you and your officer's sw.a.n.k as if I had been the lucky guy myself.”

”Yes,” said Captain Charlie, smiling affectionately, ”and I could see the grin in your eyes every time you saluted.”

”No one else ever saw it, though,” returned Private Ward, proudly.

”Don't think for a minute that I overlooked that either,” said Captain Martin. ”If any one else had seen it, I would have disciplined you for sure.”

”And don't you think for a minute that I didn't know that, too,”

retorted John. ”I could feel you laying for me, and every man in the company knew it just as he knew our friends.h.i.+p. That's what made us all love you so. We used to say that if Captain Charlie would just take a notion to start for Berlin and invite us to go along the war would be over right there.”

Charlie Martin laughed appreciatively. Then he said, earnestly, ”After all, old man, it wasn't an officers' war and it wasn't a privates' war, was it? Any more than it was the war of America, or England, or France, or Australia, or Canada--it was _our_ war. And that, I guess, is the main reason why it all came out as it did.”

”Now,” said John, with hearty enthusiasm, ”you are talking sense.”

”But it is all very different now, John,” said Charlie, slowly.

”Millsburgh is not France and the Mill is not the United States Army.”

”No,” returned John, ”and yet there is not such a lot of difference, when you come to think it out.”

”We can't disguise the facts,” said Captain Martin stubbornly.

”We are not going to disguise anything,” retorted John. ”I had an idea how you would feel over my promotion, and that is why I wanted you out here to-day. You've got to get this 'it's all very different now' stuff out of your system. So go ahead and shoot your facts.”

”All right,” said Charlie. ”Let's look at things as they are. It was all very well for us to moon over what we would do if we ever got back home when we knew darned well our chances were a hundred to one against our ever seeing the old U.S. again. We spilled a lot of sentiment about comrades.h.i.+p and loyalty and citizens.h.i.+p and equality and all that, but--”

”Can your chatter!” snapped John. ”Drag out these facts that you are so anxious to have recognized. Let's have a good look at whatever it is that makes you rough-neck sons of toil so superior to us lily-fingered employers. Go to the bat.”

”Well,” offered Charlie, reluctantly, ”to begin with, you are a millionaire, a university man, member of select clubs; I am nothing but a common workman.”

John returned, quickly, ”We are both citizens of the United States. In the duties and privileges of our citizens.h.i.+p we stand on exactly the same footing, just as in the army we stood on the common ground of loyalty. And we are both equally dependent upon the industries of our country--upon the Mill, and upon each other. Exactly as we were both dependent upon the army and upon each other in France.”

”You are the general manager of the Mill, practically the owner,” said Charlie. ”I am only one of your employees.”

The son of Adam Ward answered scornfully, ”Yes, over there it was Captain Charlie Martin and Private John Ward of the United States Army.

I suppose it is a lot different now that it is Captain John Ward and Private Charlie Martin of the United States Industries.”

Charlie continued, ”You live in a mansion in a select district on the hill, I live in a little cottage on the edge of the Flats!”

”Over there it was officers' quarters and barracks,” said John, shortly.

Charlie tried again, ”You wear white collars and tailored clothes at your work--I wear dirty overalls.”

”We used to call 'em uniforms,” barked John.