THE WINNING OF A MEDAL
It had become the practice of the War Department to present to the army
every five years a comprehensive military problem involving an imaginary
attack upon this country by a powerful foreign foe, and the proper line
of defense. The competition was open to both officers and men. A medal
was given to the successful contestant, and much distinction came with
it.
There had been as yet but one contest; five years before the medal had
been won by a Major General who by wide acclaim was considered the
greatest military authority in the Army. That he should win seemed to
accord with the fitness of things, and it was thought that he would
again be successful.
The problem had been given to the Army on the first of November, and six
months were allowed to study it and hand in a written dissertation
thereon. It was arranged that the general military staff that considered
the papers should not know the names of the contestants.
Philip had worked upon the matter assiduously while he was at Fort
Magruder, and had sent in his paper early in March. Great was his
surprise upon receiving a telegram from the Secretary of War announcing
that he had won the medal. For a few days he was a national sensation.
The distinction of the first winner, who was again a contestant, and
Philip's youth and obscurity, made such a striking contrast that the
whole situation appealed enormously to the imagination of the people.
Then, too, the problem was one of unusual interest, and it, as well as
Philip's masterly treatment of it, was published far and wide.
The Nation was clearly treating itself to a sensation, and upon Philip
were focused the eyes of all. From now he was a marked man. The
President, stirred by the wishes of a large part of the people,
expressed by them in divers ways, offered him reinstatement in the Army
with the rank of Major, and indicated, through the Secretary of War,
that he would be assigned as Secretary to the General Staff. It was a
gracious thing to do, even though it was prompted by that political
instinct for which the President had become justly famous.
In an appreciative note of thanks, Philip declined. Again he became the
talk of the hour. Poor, and until now obscure, it was assumed that he
would gladly seize such an opportunity for a brilliant career within his
profession. His friends were amazed and urged him to reconsider the
matter, but his determination was fixed.
Only Gloria understood and approved.
"Philip," said Mr. Strawn, "do not turn this offer down lightly. Such an
opportunity seldom comes twice in any man's life."
"I am deeply impressed with the truth of what you say, Mr. Strawn, and I
am not putting aside a military career without much regret. However, I
am now committed to a life work of a different character, one in which
glory and success as the world knows it can never enter, but which
appeals to every instinct that I possess. I have turned my face in the
one direction, and come what may, I shall never change."
"I am afraid, Philip, that in the enthusiasm of youth and inexperience
you are doing a foolish thing, one that will bring you many hours of
bitter regret. This is the parting of the ways with you. Take the advice
of one who loves you well and turn into the road leading to honor and
success. The path which you are about to choose is obscure and difficult,
and none may say just where it leads."
"What you say is true, Mr. Strawn, only we are measuring results by
different standards. If I could journey your road with a blythe heart,
free from regret, when glory and honor came, I should revel in it and
die, perhaps, happy and contented. But constituted as I am, when I began
to travel along that road, from its dust there would arise to haunt me
the ghosts of those of my fellowmen who had lived and died without
opportunity. The cold and hungry, the sick and suffering poor, would
seem to cry to me that I had abandoned them in order that I might
achieve distinction and success, and there would be for me no peace."
And here Gloria touched his hand with hers, that he might know her
thoughts and sympathy were at one with his.
Philip was human enough to feel a glow of satisfaction at having
achieved so much reputation. A large part of it, he felt, was undeserved
and rather hysterical, but that he had been able to do a big thing made
him surer of his ground in his new field of endeavor. He believed, too,
that it would aid him largely in obtaining the confidence of those with
whom he expected to work and of those he expected to work for.