President after a long pause, "to the effect that our captive balloons
reported a change in the positions of the enemy's left wing. This may
mean----"
"Yes, it may mean--" repeated the Secretary of War mechanically.
Then they both became silent once more, puffing vigorously at their
cigars.
"Suppose it's all in vain again, suppose the enemy--" began the
Secretary of War, when he was interrupted by the ringing of the bell in
the next room.
The message ran:
"Bell's Pass, Feb. 9, 12.15 a.m. Milton's division has succeeded in
wresting several important positions from the enemy after a night of
severe fighting. Unimportant reverses suffered by Stranger's division
more than offset with the aid of reënforcements from Bell's Pass.
COLONEL TARDITT."
"If they can only hold Georgetown," said the Secretary of War, "our last
reserves have gone there now."
"God grant they may."
Then they both went back to the study. The President remained standing
in front of the portrait of Lincoln hanging on the wall.
"He went through just such hours as these," he said quietly, "just such
hours, and perhaps in this very room, when the battle between the
_Monitor_ and the _Merrimac_ was being fought at Hampton Roads, and news
was being sent to him hour by hour. Oh, Abraham Lincoln, if you were
only here to-day to deliver your message over the length and breadth of
our land."
The Secretary of War looked hard at the President as he answered: "Yes,
we have need of men, but we have men, too, some perhaps who are even
greater than Lincoln."
The President shook his head sadly, saying: "I don't know, we've done
everything we could, we've done our duty, yet perhaps we might have made
even greater efforts. I'm so nervous over the outcome of this battle; it
seems to me we are facing the enemy without weapons, or at best with
very blunt ones."
Again the bell rang and the President moved towards the door, but
stopped halfway and said: "You better go and see what it is, Harry."
"Fort Bridger, Feb. 8, 11.50 p.m. From Fisher's division the report
comes via Bell's Pass that two of his regiments have driven the enemy
from their positions with the aid of searchlights, and that they are
now in hot pursuit. MAJOR GENERAL ILLING."
Without saying a word the Secretary of War moved the blocks representing
Fisher's division further South. Then he remarked quietly: "It doesn't
make much difference what happens at Georgetown, the decision rests
right here now and the next hour may decide it all," and he put his
finger on the spot in the mountains occupied by the enemy's left wing.
"If an attack on the enemy's front should make a gap----"
He didn't complete the sentence, for the President's hand rested heavily
on his shoulder. "Yes, Harry," he said, "if--that's what we've been
saying for nine months. If--and our If has always been followed by a
But--the enemy's But."
He threw himself into a chair and shaded his tired eyes with his hand,
while the Secretary of War walked incessantly up and down, puffing on a
fresh cigar.--
The night was almost over.--The shrill little bell rang again, causing
the President to start violently. Slowly, inch by inch, the white strip
of paper was rolled off, and stooping together over the ticking
instrument, the two men watched one letter, one word, one sentence after
another appear, until at last it was all there:
"Fort Bridger, Feb. 9, 1.15 a.m. A returning motor air-ship reports a
furious artillery fight in the rear of the enemy's left wing. Have
just issued orders for a general attack on the hostile positions on
the heights. Cannonade raging all along the line. Reports from Bell's
Pass state that enemy is retreating from Georgetown. Twelve of the
enemy's guns captured.
"MAJOR GENERAL ILLING."
"Harry!" cried the President, seizing his friend's hand, "suppose this
means victory!"
"It does, it must," was the answer. "Look here," he said, as he
rearranged the blocks on the map, "the whole pressure of General
Elliott's three divisions is concentrated on the enemy's left wing. All
that's necessary is a determined attack----"
"On the entrenchments in the dark?" broke in the President, "when the
men are so apt to lose touch with their leaders, when they're shooting
at random, when a mere chance may wrest away the victory and give it to
the enemy?"
The Secretary of War shook his head, saying: "The fate of battles rests
in the hands of God; we must have faith in our troops."
He walked around the table with long strides, while the President
compared the positions of the armies on the map with the contents of the
last telegram.
"Harry," he said, looking up, "do you remember the speech I made at
Harvard years ago on the unity of nations? That was my first speech, and
who would have thought that we should now be sitting together in this
room? It's strange how it all comes back to me now. Even then, as a
young man, I was deeply interested in the development of the idea of
German national unity as expressed in German poetry; and much that I
read then has become full of meaning for us, too, especially in these
latter days. One of those German songs is ringing in my ears to-night.
Oh, if it could only come true, if our brave men over there storming the
rocky heights could only make it come true--" At this moment the
telegraph-bell again rang sharply:
"Fort Bridger, Feb. 9, 2.36 a.m. With enormous losses the brigades of
Lennox and Malmberg have stormed the positions occupied by the
artillery on the enemy's left wing, and have captured numerous guns.
The thunder of cannon coming from the valley can be distinctly heard
here on the heights. Fisher's division has signaled that they have
successfully driven back the enemy. The Japanese are beginning to
retreat all along the line. Our troops----"
The President could read no further, for the words were dancing before
his eyes. This stern man, whom nothing could bend or break, now had
tears in his eyes as he folded his hands over the telegraph instrument,
from which the tape continued to come forth, and said in a deeply moved
voice: "Harry, this hour is greater than the Fourth of July. And now,
Harry, I remember it, that song of the German poet; may it become our
prayer of thanksgiving:"
"From tower to tower let the bells be rung,
Throughout our land let our joy be sung!
Light every beacon far and near,
To show that God hath helped us here!
Praise be to God on High!"
Then the President stepped over to the window and pushing aside the
curtains, opened it and looked out into the cold winter morning for a
long time.
"Harry," he called presently, "doesn't it seem as though the bells were
ringing? Thus far no one knows the glad tidings but you and I; but very
soon they'll awake to pæans of victory and then our flag will wave
proudly once more and we'll have no trouble in winning back the missing
stars."
It was a moment of the highest national exaltation, such as a nation
experiences only once in a hundred years.
A solitary policeman was patrolling up and down before the White House,
and he started violently as he heard a voice above him calling out:
"Run as hard as you can and call out on all the streets: The enemy is
defeated, our troops have conquered, the Japanese army is in full
retreat! Knock at the doors and windows and shout into every home: we
have won, the enemy is retreating."
The policeman hurried off, leaving big black footprints in the white
snow, and he could be heard yelling out: "Victory, victory, we've beaten
the Japs!" as he ran.
People began to collect in the streets and a coachman jumped down from
his box and ran towards the White House, looking up at its lighted
windows.
"Leave your carriage here," shouted the President, "and run as hard as
you can and tell everybody you meet that we have won and that the
Japanese are in full retreat! Our country will be free once more!"
Shouts were heard in the distance, and the noise of loud knocking. And
then the President closed the window and came back into the room. But
when the Secretary of War wanted to read the balance of the message, he
said: "Don't, Harry; I couldn't listen to another word now, but please
rouse everybody in the house."
Then bells rang in the halls and people were heard to stir in the rooms.
There was a joyous awakening in the quiet capital that ninth day of
February, the day that dispelled the darkness and the gloom.
That day marked the beginning of the end. _The yellow peril had been
averted!_