Part 3 (2/2)

Tom never thought of joining the army. The idea of being a soldier was utterly strange to him. The soldiers whom he knew were mostly of the lower orders; fellows who had got into trouble, or had taken the ”King's s.h.i.+lling” while they were drunk. He had looked down upon them as being lower in social scale than himself, and he would never be seen walking with a soldier. When he saw lads of his own cla.s.s enlisting, he shrugged his shoulders with a laugh. ”Let 'em join if they want to,” he said, ”but it's noan in my line.” In fact, after the first three weeks of the War, although terrible stories were reaching England about the ghastly atrocities in Belgium, and about the Germans nearing Paris, the manufacturing parts of Lancas.h.i.+re were largely unmoved. The terrible harvest of war which was to come later was not yet realised.

It is true that thousands of young fellows responded to the call of duty. Young men of the better-educated cla.s.s obtained commissions and were working at the local barracks; while here and there the more adventurous of the operatives found their way to recruiting stations.

But the response was not large; partly for the reason that the reality of their country's call had not come to them with its full meaning.

One evening Tom found himself talking with young Waterman, who had been away from Brunford for some weeks.

”Hullo, Pollard,” said Waterman, ”I see you have not enlisted.”

”Nay, I am not bound to enlist; there's enough gone to lick the Germans already. Don't you think so?” asked Tom.

A bright light came into Waterman's eyes. ”I am going to enlist,” he said--”that is, my people are getting me a commission. I have had some training, you know.”

”But we shall quickly lick them, don't you think so?” asked Tom.

”You've been in Germany a goodish bit. You went to school and college there, so you ought to know.”

Waterman laughed. ”We English are fools,” he said.

”How's that?”

”Of course I am going to do my bit,” said Waterman. ”As an Englishman I must; but we shall never lick the Germans.”

”Why? Think of the millions the Russians have got; think of the French; think of our Navy.”

”Ay, think of it all,” replied Waterman, ”but you don't know what the Germans are. I do. In that country every man is a soldier. Look at Brunford; here are thousands upon thousands of fellows who are hanging back, and who are worth nothing in a time of war. If this had been a German town every man you see would be a soldier. Then see how much in advance of us the Germans are in scientific matters. They have got mountains of guns and ammunition. Besides, they have made a science of war, while Englishmen are only amateurs. Think of what they have done already; nearly the whole of Belgium belongs to them, and a great slice of France.”

”But do you mean to say,” cried Tom, ”that they will lick us? Why, think of our Navy; think of----”

Waterman did not wait to hear the end of Tom's sentence; he crossed the road and was lost to sight.

One event took place, however, which somewhat opened the people's eyes, and is talked of even to-day. A young German who had come to Brunford a few years before, and who had succeeded in ama.s.sing a fortune, was called home by his Government. So popular had he become in the town, and so little had the realities of the war laid hold of the people, that some of the leading townsmen decided to give him a dinner. This dinner was arranged to take place in the large dining-room of the Bull and Butcher, the largest hotel in the town. Although some people were anything but pleased at the arrangement, so little ill-feeling was felt towards the Germans that a good number of the townspeople gathered.

When the dinner had been eaten the chairman rose to propose the toast of the evening. He said that although Mr. Shweitzer was called upon to fight against the English people, the town had no ill-will against him personally; they all knew him as a good fellow, a good sportsman, and an honourable business man. During the time he had been in Brunford they had opened their doors to him and received him as an honoured guest, and although the unfortunate war had taken place, they had nothing but good feeling towards Mr. Shweitzer. That was why they had invited him as their guest that night, and he, the chairman, expressed the hope that the war would soon be over and that Mr. Shweitzer would return and take up the position which he had so long occupied amongst them. The toast to his health was heartily cheered; good feeling abounded, and all waited for the response of the German guest.

As Mr. Shweitzer rose to respond he received quite an ovation; the diners even went so far as to give him musical honours. Mr.

Shweitzer's reply was in fairly good English. He thanked his friends for their good-fellows.h.i.+p, and for the kind things they had said about him.

”As to my coming back to Brunford again,” he concluded, ”I have but little doubt that I shall return, but when I do, the Kaiser, and not the man you now own as king, will rule over England. For the Germans are going to lick your country, and Wilhelm II will be your future king.”

For a few seconds those who had gathered were so much astonished that there was a dead silence. Meanwhile the German looked around the room with a supercilious smile.

Then an Englishman who had been sitting close by came up to the German.

He was a brawny, stalwart fellow. ”Do you mean that?” he asked the German.

”Yes, I do,” was the reply.

The Englishman without another word struck him a mighty blow on the jaw. ”That for you and your Kaiser!” he exclaimed amidst the shouts of those present.

The blow was so heavy and so well aimed that the German's jaw was broken. He was taken to the hospital, where he remained for some months, and he has not yet returned to Germany.[1]

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