Out on the Ohio River there is a large steel town. During the last few
years many foreigners who have the Bolsheviki spirit have crossed the
ocean and found work in the great shops and factories. Little by little
the foreign newspapers have developed the spirit that has now ruined
Russia, and is here under the American name of the I. W. W. movement. In
this steel city was an anarchist, with real power to move the mobs. The
mere mention of the name of Carnegie or Rockefeller was to him like
waving a red flag in the face of a bull. In the evenings it was his
custom to climb upon a box at the corner of the street, close to a
little park, and tell his hearers that all the wealth in the rich man's
house was created by the workman's muscle. He made no allowance for the
inventor, for the organizer, for the risks taken by the man who built a
factory. A few weeks ago this anarchist laid down a newspaper,
containing an account of the trial of the I. W. W. leaders in Chicago.
That night, becoming alarmed, lest he himself be caught in the drag-net,
and perhaps forced to enlist as an enemy alien, this agitator
disappeared, leaving behind him his board bill, laundry bill, tailor's
bill, not to mention many other forms of indebtedness--a disappearance
that led every one of his creditors to give up any and all faith in the
American Bolsheviki movement.
Now there was a young boy of about twenty-three who had long been
listening to this agitator. When, therefore, the second night after the
anarchist's disappearance came, this young man, who aspired himself to
be a leader of the mob, climbed up on the soap box, at the corner of the
little park, and began to speak to the same old crowd.
"Think of it, my friends! Just think of it! Think of some soldier coming
in here and making me enlist! I have no grudge against the Germans. I
don't want to kill them. My forefathers were all German! My name is
German. And I am an American all right, all right! Still, I don't
propose to have anybody tell me what I must do. If I want to enlist, I
will enlist, and if I don't, I won't! I'd like to see some Government
agent come along and grab me for the draft! When he comes, he'll hear a
few things from me, and then some!"
At that point a man lifted up his hand and said: "Now you may stop right
there!" Throwing back his coat collar, he showed a little metal badge.
Climbing up on the box, the stranger took the young anarchist by his
shoulder and half choked him, saying: "So you want to have the people
see some one take you to the draft office? Well," said the officer,
"now's the time for them to see him, and I'm the man. And you people,"
he went on, "just take a good look at this fellow. It'll be the last
chance you're going to have, for he will be in jail to-night, and
to-morrow we will decide whether or not he has been opposing the draft.
If he has, he stands a good chance of being shot." Blowing a little
whistle, the officer dragged the young anarchist to the edge of the
street, half lifted and half kicked him into the police wagon, which
soon disappeared. The enemy aliens who remained behind were stupefied,
partly with astonishment and partly with terror. Aliens began to say,
"What will come next?" That night a number more of pro-Germans
disappeared from this town with its steel mills.
The next morning, at ten o'clock, the officer entered the jail. "Get a
move on you, young man!" he said brusquely. "You're going up to the
court to be examined to see whether you are a slacker or a traitor. In
the one case you will be interned and in the other case you will be
hanged or shot."
The young anarchist was on his feet in a moment. "But, officer, aren't
you going to give me a chance to enlist?"
"Young man, this Government does not want traitors to enlist, nor
pro-Germans."
"I am not a pro-German this morning," cried the excited man. "I have
thought the whole thing over last night. I did not sleep a wink. I think
this Government is the best government in the world. And I am willing to
fight for it."
The officer was astounded. "Well, my young enemy," he exclaimed, "a
dungeon seems to have had a good effect upon your mind. What has
regenerated you? Was it the cold water or the corn bread? Or the steel
door before your dungeon? Or was it the bad air in your cell? Or
possibly it was the fear of death, or God Almighty, or future
punishment. Come now, out with it!"
It was a thoroughly frightened boy who stood half an hour later in the
prisoner's dock. "Give me some book on the Government of the United
States," he exclaimed to the judge. "And give me a week in which to show
that I am in earnest, and I will then volunteer." The judge was very
grave. "Young man," he said sternly, "any boy that will eat the bread of
the United States, that will enjoy the liberty of this country, and has
had all the chances to climb to place that have come to you, and refuses
to enlist, has something wrong with him, and it is only a question of
time when he comes to the judgment day." To this the young man made the
answer that he had been lazy, careless and ignorant; that he had allowed
himself to become the tool of the runaway agitator, and then once more
he asked that he might have a chance to enlist. With the help of
friends, the judge and the draft board finally let him off and sent him
to a camp for three months' intensive training. Then came the news that
his company had been sent over seas, and within a short time thereafter
in the list of casualties the name of this young foreigner appeared.
But one letter reached this country, and that letter was notable for
this sentence: "For the first time in my life I have had young Americans
for my companions. The boys in my company have had a college education
and they have taught me bravery, truth, self-sacrifice, kindness and
chivalry. I have learned more in two months at the camp than in all the
rest of my life put together. The companionship in my company and in my
camp have saved my soul." It is this that explains the redemption of the
slacker.