On Tuesday, the fifth day of October, 1915, Major Mowbray Huntington
came to Fairweather, in pursuance of the order issued to him, to hold
an election for the office of first lieutenant of Company E. The
election was to be held at eight o’clock in the evening of that day, in
the company room at the armory. But, long before the hour for balloting
had arrived, members of the company came strolling in by ones and
twos and began to gather in little groups on the drill floor of the
armory. There was no acrimonious debate, nor was there any exhibition
of violent partisanship. The time for argument and for proselyting had
gone by. But there was intense interest. It was now a question of which
of the two candidates had secured the most prospective votes. Every one
agreed that the contest was fairly close, but Barriscale’s adherents
were confident in their prediction that he would win out by a safe
majority. Nor had Hal’s friends given up hope. They felt that it was
still among the possibilities that he should be elected. At any rate,
he had made a clean, aggressive, splendid fight, and they were proud of
him. He had never been half-hearted in the matter; not from the moment
of his decision to enter the contest. At first he had been contented
simply to announce his candidacy without entering into any active
campaign. But when he learned what a strenuous fight his opponent
was putting up, how he was leaving no stone unturned, no influence
unsolicited, no argument, fair or unfair, unused; he threw himself more
keenly into the contest, enlisted the active support of his friends in
the company, and carried on a vigorous fight up to the very close of
the campaign. And now the final chapter had been reached.
At eight o’clock the assembly was sounded, the men fell in in full
uniform with side-arms, according to military law, the roll was called,
the command turned over to Captain Murray, and the company marched to
the large room on the second floor, where seats had been arranged in
rows for purposes of the election.
At the table at one end of the room sat Major Huntington, flanked on
his right by Captain Murray, and on his left by Second Lieutenant
Brownell, while Corporal Manning, the company clerk, occupied a seat at
one end of the table.
When the clerk had read to the company the order for the election,
Major Huntington arose and said:
“In compliance with the order just read we will now proceed to the
election of a first lieutenant for Company E. It has been certified
to me that your company carries sixty-seven regularly enlisted men on
its roll, all of whom are present in uniform. You therefore have nine
more members than the minimum number required for holding an election.
A candidate must receive at least thirty-four votes in order to be
elected. I understand that there are but two known candidates for the
office, and that printed ballots have been distributed containing their
names. However, lest any man should be without, or should not care to
use, a printed ballot, the clerk will now distribute blank slips to
you, on which a candidate’s name may be written. Five minutes after
this distribution has been made, I shall have the company roll called,
and each man, as his name is spoken, will come forward and deposit his
ballot in the box on the table. I have appointed Captain Murray and
Lieutenant Brownell to be inspectors of the election. After the votes
have been cast they will be counted by us, and the result will be
immediately announced.”
There was some whispering among the men, and a few of them began to
write the name of their candidate on the blank slips which had now
been distributed to them. For the most part, however, the electors sat
quietly with their printed ballots in their hands, awaiting the calling
of the roll.
It was during this lull that Private Stone arose in his place. Stone
was a clerk in the employ of the Barriscale Manufacturing Company, and
a violent partisan of the first sergeant.
“May I ask for information?” he inquired.
“You may,” replied the presiding officer.
“I want to know if, under military law, a man is eligible to election
as first lieutenant over the head of a man who is now his superior
officer, and who is also a candidate?”
“I know of no rule of military law,” replied the chairman, “that denies
his eligibility.”
Friends of McCormack, who had looked up apprehensively when the
question was put, breathed freely again.
“Then I want to know,” continued Stone, “if it is according to military
custom for an under officer to be promoted like that?”
“As a general thing,” replied Major Huntington, “officers go up in
accordance with their existing rank. But it is not contrary to military
ethics to jump grades. The members of a company have a perfect right,
if they choose to do so, to elevate a private to the captaincy over the
heads of all intervening officers.”
But Stone was persistent.
“Do you think,” he asked, “that things like that are for ‘the good of
the service’? Isn’t it better for military discipline that men should
work their way up in regular order?”
“That,” replied the major, “is a matter that I cannot discuss with you
at this time. You must settle that for yourselves, by your ballots.”
Stone resumed his seat, somewhat crestfallen, amid the smiles of those
who were not in sympathy with him. But no sooner was he seated than
Hooper, another ardent Barriscale supporter, sprang to his feet. It was
evident that Hooper was laboring under considerable excitement.
“One of the candidates here,” he declared, “is known to be a socialist
and a companion of radicals who are opposed to all government. He
doesn’t believe in the use of the military to suppress riot and
disorder, nor in the punishment of any one who deliberately insults our
flag. He is unpatriotic and un-American, and unsafe to be entrusted
with the command of troops. Have we any right, legal or moral, to elect
such a person as our first lieutenant?”
Before the last word was out of Hooper’s mouth, and before the chairman
could make any response, Private Moore, a warm friend of McCormack’s,
was on his feet.
“That’s slander!” he shouted, “and Hooper knows it. There’s no better
soldier in the Guard, nor any more loyal citizen in this country than
Sergeant Halpert McCormack; and it’s contemptible of you”--turning
toward Hooper with red face and eyes blazing with indignation--“I say
it’s contemptible of you even to intimate to the contrary.”
Under Moore’s fierce gaze and emphatic language Hooper wilted and
resumed his seat.
Then Barriscale, himself, sprang into the breach. It was apparent that
his lieutenants were not standing to their guns with the force and
pertinacity that he had expected of them, and that he, himself, must
leap in and push the argument home. Major Huntington, the chairman, had
already raised his gavel, as if to shut off further discussion, but,
apparently, having permitted Moore to be heard, he thought it was not
wise to silence Barriscale. So the gavel did not fall.
“It’s no slander!” declared Barriscale, dramatically. “What Hooper
says is all true, and he hasn’t begun to tell it all either. I’ve
investigated. I know this man’s record. And I tell you that he comes
little short of being a full-fledged anarchist. He would put the red
flag, to-day, above the Stars and Stripes. I give notice, now, that
when this thing is over, either he will be dismissed from the Guard or
I will. I shall refuse to serve in the same company----”
He got no further. The buzz which had begun at the end of his first
half dozen words had risen to a prolonged hiss, and it now deepened
into a perfect roar of disapproval. Men on both sides sprang to their
feet clamoring to be heard.
It was then, for the first time, that the chairman’s gavel fell; and it
fell with a crash that evidenced his state of mind.
“Order!” he shouted. “I shall discipline the first man who remains on
his feet or who says another word!”
Trained to obey commands, the men resumed their seats and were silent.
But, on every face was a flush of excitement, apprehension or anger.
“I am astonished,” continued the chairman, “that members of this
company should have been guilty of such a breach of military etiquette
as this, or should have indulged in such an unsoldierly demonstration.
I am here to conduct your election, not to settle your quarrels. I
will say, however, that if the person who receives a majority of your
votes is not approved by my superior officers, he will be denied a
commission. Of that you may rest assured. The clerk will now call the
roll, and you will come forward and deposit your ballots as your names
are spoken.”
There was no more quarreling; there were no more charges or
counter-charges. The time for action had come.
The clerk began calling the roll, and, as he called the several names,
the men responded, advanced to the table, put their ballots into the
box and resumed their seats.
When the voting had been completed the counting began. One by one the
ballots were removed from the box by Lieutenant Brownell, exhibited
in turn to Major Huntington and Captain Murray, and the name on them
announced to Corporal Manning, the clerk, in a voice loud and distinct
enough to be heard by every person present.
But the clerk was not the only one in the room who was keeping tally as
the votes were counted. Fully half of the men there, with pencils and
paper, were keeping their own record as the count progressed, and the
other half were looking over their shoulders.
It was an absorbing occupation for all of them. The two candidates
were running almost neck and neck. Now Barriscale was ahead, and now
McCormack. After a few minutes the first sergeant began to forge a
little farther to the front. When the fortieth ballot had been removed
from the box and counted, his vote stood twenty-three to McCormack’s
seventeen.
Surrounded by his friends, at the right of the first row of seats,
Barriscale watched with intense interest the tally as Stone carried
it along in blocks of five. He had never doubted his ultimate success
in the election; now, with the vote standing as it did, he was more
confident than ever. He did not see how it was possible, with the lead
he had, for McCormack to overtake him. Already a smile of triumph began
to overspread his face.
But the next two votes went to McCormack, and the lead was reduced
to four. However, Barriscale got numbers forty-three, forty-five and
forty-eight, thus holding his lead of four.
But forty-nine and fifty went to McCormack, leaving Barriscale a
majority on the fiftieth count of only two.
Things began to look serious for the first sergeant.
Stone and Hooper were keeping tally with trembling fingers.
Barriscale, himself, was still optimistic concerning his success, and
when the next three votes were recorded for him, carrying his lead up
to five, the confident smile reasserted itself in his face, and he
foresaw an easy victory.
There were only fourteen more ballots to be counted, and it was hardly
within the range of possibility that he could now be defeated.
Then, alas for human probabilities! five votes in succession were
announced for McCormack, so that, with the counting of the fifty-eighth
ballot, the two candidates were for the first time tied.
Number fifty-nine was for Barriscale; but numbers sixty, sixty-one and
sixty-two were all for McCormack, giving him a lead of two votes.
For the first time in all the strenuous campaign, the glimmer of hope
in Hal’s breast, alternately fading and reappearing, brightened into a
steady flame. There were but five more votes to be counted. Surely he
might reasonably hope to get two of them.
As for Sergeant Barriscale, there was no smile on his lips now. He
stared at the tally sheet with incredulous eyes. The votes that he had
confidently counted on had not been forthcoming. It was evident that
some one, more than one indeed, had played traitor to him. Already
the fires of anger were beginning to blaze up in his breast. Had he
harbored resentment too soon? It might be; for the next three ballots
were for him. On the sixty-fifth count he was one ahead. There were but
two more ballots to be counted. Surely he had a right to expect one of
these. He grasped at the proverbial straw with the clutch of a drowning
man.
The excitement in the room was intense but suppressed. Save for the
voice of the chairman announcing the names on the ballots, and the
voice of the clerk repeating them, there was absolute stillness. No one
else spoke, or even whispered. Men scarcely breathed for the suspense
that was on them.
Ballot number sixty-six was removed from the box, read and recorded. It
was for McCormack.
The two contestants were again tied.
There was but one more ballot to be counted. That ballot would break
the tie and decide the election.
Men put aside their tally sheets, or crumpled them in their hands, and
leaned forward in their chairs, their eyes fixed on the lips of the
presiding officer, in breathless anticipation.
Brownell reached into the box, drew out the last ballot, glanced at it,
and handed it to Major Huntington.
The major looked at it in his turn, showed it to Captain Murray, and
then announced the name written on it.
“Halpert McCormack.”
For the fraction of a minute there was dead silence. Then, like a
clap of thunder, there came a swift outburst of applause. Hands,
feet, throats united to acclaim the young officer-elect. Spontaneous,
irrepressible, enthusiastic, the chorus of rejoicing rolled out
from the company room, down the broad stairway, and across the wide
drill-hall to its remotest corner. People waiting there in scores to
hear the outcome of the election caught up the waves of sound and sent
them echoing back to the room on the upper floor, though not one of
them knew as yet whose victory it was.
Then, for the second time that evening, the chairman’s gavel crashed
down on the table before him, but on his face there was no sign of
annoyance or of disapproval as he announced the result of the balloting.
“Sixty-seven votes have been cast. Of these Sergeant Barriscale
receives thirty-three, and Sergeant McCormack receives thirty-four.
Second Sergeant Halpert McCormack has therefore been elected to the
office of First Lieutenant of Company E. He will report to me for
instructions immediately after the breaking of ranks. Captain Murray,
you will now dismiss your company.”
Of course Hal was the hero of the hour. Of course people congratulated
him right and left. If his head had been easily turned he would have
faced backward forever after. Brownell was jubilant. Major-General
Chick was delirious with joy. Aunt Sarah, waiting with her ear at the
telephone receiver for word from the armory, could hardly contain
herself when the victory was announced to her. When Hal went to see
her the next day she saw him coming, met him on the porch, and kissed
him on both cheeks in full view of the passers-by, greatly to his
discomfiture.
But he partly consoled himself by saying to her:
“The men whom you especially interviewed in my behalf all voted against
me. The next time I run for anything I’m going to lock you into the
house and throw the key down the well. It’s not safe to have you at
large on such an occasion.”
“You behave yourself!” she retorted, “and stop making fun of a
defenseless old maid. Do you know what I’m going to do to punish you?
I’m going to make you a gift of your officer’s uniform, and sword, and
shoulder-straps, and the whole equipment, and----”
“Aunt Sarah, you mustn’t think----”
“You--keep--your mouth--closed. I----”
“But, Aunt Sarah!”
“I say shut up! The thing’s settled. How’s your mother to-day?”
If McCormack’s friends were jubilant over his election, he, himself,
did not appear to be unduly elated. He did not seem to feel that his
victory was a thing of which he should be especially proud. He had been
elected by a bare majority of the votes of all the electors of the
company, and he had won out over his opponent by only a single vote.
Nor had he been greatly ambitious to obtain the promotion. Indeed, had
it not been for Barriscale’s surly conduct and attempted bribe, he
would have persisted in refusing to be a candidate. But, now that he
had been elected, he determined that he would fulfil the duties of his
new position faithfully, to the best of his judgment and ability.
He was not objectionable to the bulk of the minority voters of the
company. If he did not know that at the time of the election he learned
it soon afterward. One by one, as opportunity offered, they came to
him, congratulated him, and gave him sincere assurances of their
entire loyalty. His opponent had, indeed, been their choice, either
for reasons of preference or policy, but McCormack was in no sense
displeasing to them. This, much to his satisfaction, they made him
understand.
So, in due course, the return of the election was forwarded through
regimental headquarters to the Adjutant-General, the several
headquarters through which it passed endorsing thereon their approval.
It was as follows:
“_To the Adjutant-General of Pennsylvania_:
“SIR:
“At an election held on the fifth day of October, A. D. 1915,
for First Lieutenant of Company E, ----th Infantry, N. G. P.,
the following named person was duly elected, to wit: HALPERT
MCCORMACK of Benson County; and I hereby certify that the
company now bears upon its rolls the names of sixty-seven
bona-fide enlisted men, that at this election sixty-seven men
were paraded in State uniform, that the candidate elected
received thirty-four votes, and that he has been duly notified
by me of his election. Witness my hand this seventh day of
October, A. D. 1915.
“MOWBRAY HUNTINGTON,
_Major_,
_Conducting Election_.”
“Attest,
RICHARD L. MANNING,
_Clerk of Election_.”
This return was accompanied by McCormack’s acceptance as follows:
“_To the Adjutant-General_,
_State of Pennsylvania_:
_Through Intermediate Headquarters_.
“SIR:
“I have the honor to advise you that I hereby accept the
election to the office of First Lieutenant of Company E,
----th Regiment Infantry, N. G. P.
“Very respectfully,
HALPERT MCCORMACK,
_Second Sergeant Company E_,
Fairweather, Pa.”
But there was no positive assurance that Hal would receive his
commission. He still had Ben Barriscale to deal with, and Barriscale
had threatened to force him out of the Guard. The first step in such
a movement would of course be to attempt to block the confirmation of
McCormack’s election before the military board authorized by law to
deny a commission to elected but unapproved officers.
That the defeated candidate would not hesitate to take action of this
kind, if he could be assured of any fair prospect of success, every one
knew.
He was disappointed, angry, and bitter beyond belief over his defeat.
He felt that he had been betrayed by some of those whose support he had
a right to receive; that, as he said, they had given him “the double
cross,” and that it was their defection that had led to his defeat. He
did not know, or perhaps could not have understood if he had known,
that it was his own injudicious and threatening outburst on the day of
election that caused the changing of enough ballots to precipitate the
disaster to his cause.
And he did not know, and was destined never to know, about the
midnight visit of Chick Dalloway with Fred Lewis, nor why it was that
McCormack carried the election by a majority of just one vote.
Of course much of his anger and resentment were directed toward his
late opponent. His threat on the night of the election had been no
idle one, and Hal and his friends knew it. They waited, therefore,
not without some apprehension, to see what steps he might now take to
prevent the first lieutenant-elect from ever having the benefit of his
shoulder-straps.