_Major James Hersey_
ARRANGEMENTS had been made in Coblenz for the quartering of the officers
of the American Army of Occupation in certain German homes, payment
being made in an ordinary business fashion.
On arriving in Coblenz, after his illness in Luxemburg, Major Jimmie
Hersey discovered that especially comfortable accommodations had been
prepared for him. Also he was to have as his companion, a personal
friend, Sergeant Donald Hackett an exception being made to the
sergeant's living in the same house with his commanding officer.
The household in which the two young Americans were located was one of
the many households at this time in Germany whose state of mind it would
have been difficult for any outsider to have understood or explained.
The head of the family, Colonel Otto Liedermann, was an old man, now
past seventy, who had once been a member of the Kaiser's own guard. His
son, Captain Ludwig Liedermann had been seriously wounded six months
before the close of the war, and, although at present in his own home,
was still said to be too ill to leave his apartment. There was one grown
daughter, Hedwig, who must have been a little over twenty years of age.
The second wife, Frau Liedermann, was much younger than her husband, and
her children were two charming little girls, Freia and Gretchen, who
were but six and eight years old.
Outwardly the German family was apparently hospitably disposed to their
enemy guests, although they made no pretence of too great friendliness.
They saw that the Americans were cared for, that their food was well
cooked and served. Yet only the two little girls, Freia and Gretchen,
possessed of no bitter memories, were disposed to be really friendly.
And in boyish, American fashion, the two young officers, who were
slightly embarrassed by living among a family with whom they had so
lately been at war, returned the attitude of admiration and cordiality
of the little German maids.
Freia was a slender, grave little girl with sunshiny hair and large,
soft blue eyes, and Gretchen like her, only smaller and stouter with two
little yellow pigtails, and dimples, in her pink cheeks.
One afternoon Major Jimmie Hersey was sitting alone in a small parlor
devoted to his private use and staring at a picture on the mantel.
His work for the day was over, the drill hour was past and the soldiers,
save those on special leave, had returned to their barracks.
One could scarcely have said that the young American officer was
homesick, for there is something really more desolate than this
misfortune. He was without a home anywhere in the world for which he
could be lonely. An only son, his mother had died when he had been six
months in France.
It was true that he had a sister to whom he was warmly attached, but
she had married since her brother's departure for Europe, and for this
reason he did not feel as if she belonged to him in the old fashion of
the past.
At the moment he was looking at his mother's photograph and thinking of
their happy times together when he was a boy. In spite of his present
youthful appearance Major James Hersey regarded himself as extremely
elderly, what with the experiences of the past years of war in France
and his own personal loss, and the fact that he was approaching
twenty-five.
Then from thinking of his mother, Jimmie, whose title never concerned
him save when he was commanding his men, suddenly bethought himself of
the young Countess Charlotta. It was odd how often he recalled a mental
picture of her, when they had met but once. He had seen her again,
however, on the morning when she had left the hospital at Luxemburg.
Then he had watched from a window the carriage which drove her away.
Somehow the young Countess Charlotta in spite of her different
surroundings, had struck him as being as lonely as he was.
Then Major Jimmie smiled, realizing that he was growing sentimental. Yet
the girl's story had been a romantic one and she had confided in him so
frankly. After all, one does enjoy being sorry for oneself now and then!
The young officer at this instant was disturbed in his meditations by
hearing a little sound beside him.
Glancing around he beheld Gretchen, the youngest daughter of the German
house. This was the first time since his arrival in her home that he had
ever seen the small girl without Freia, her two years older and wiser
sister.
Plainly enough by her expression Gretchen showed that she resented this
misfortune. There were tears in her large light eyes and her little
button of a nose was noticeably pink.
"What is it, baby?" the young officer demanded, his sympathy immediately
aroused and glad also to be diverted from his own train of thought.
"It is that Freia has been allowed to go to play this afternoon with the
lady from the Red Cross and the little French girl and that I must stay
at home," the little girl lamented, speaking in German that her listener
could readily understand. Major Hersey had studied German at school as a
boy and during the last few weeks of residence in Germany had been
surprised by recalling more of his German vocabulary than he had dreamed
of knowing.
"Freia would like to bring Fraulein Jamisen home with her only she will
not come." Gretchen sighed, although beginning already to feel more
comfortable.
It was warmer in her Major's room than in any portion of their large
house; a small wood fire was burning in his grate. The little girl grew
disposed toward further confidences.
"People come to our home all the time to see my brother, but Freia and I
are never allowed in the room, only my father. Then they whisper
together so we may not hear."
Major Hersey smiled; Gretchen was a born gossip, even in her babyhood,
already he had observed that she deeply enjoyed recounting the histories
of her family and friends, more especially what Gretchen unconsciously
must have regarded as their weaknesses.
"But your brother, Captain Liedermann, is ill, perhaps it is natural
that he does not wish a little chatterbox about him all the time. If I
had been confined to my bed for as many months as he has, why I should
have turned into a great bear. One day you would have come in to speak
to me, Gretchen, and then you would have heard a low growl and two arms
would have gone around you and hugged you like this," and Major Hersey
suited his action to his words.
After a little squeak half of delight and half of fear, Gretchen settled
herself more comfortably in her companion's lap.
However, she was not to be deterred from continuing her own line of
conversation.
In the years to come, Major Jimmie had a vision of this same little
German girl, grown older and stouter, her yellow pigtails bound round
her wide head, sitting beside just such a fireside as his own and
talking on and on of her own little interests and concerns, forever
contented if her hearer would only pretend to listen.
For the sake of the listener of the future Jimmie hoped that the small
Gretchen would continue to have the same soothing effect that she was at
present producing upon him.
"My brother is not always in bed," Gretchen protested. "Now and then
when he thinks he is alone, and I am only peeping in at the door, he
climbs out of bed and walks about his room. One day one of his friends
was in the room with him and when he got up and stamped about they both
laughed."
"Oh, well, any fellow would laugh if he was growing strong again after a
long illness," Major Hersey answered a little sleepily, realizing that
Gretchen really required no comment on his part.
"Besides, you must be mistaken, your mother told me that Captain
Liedermann had not been so well of late, nothing serious, a little
infection in a wound he had believed healed. As for guests who come
frequently to your brother's room, why I never knew so quiet a household
as your's, _kleines Madchen_! During the many hours I am here in this
sitting-room, no one ever rings the front door bell or passes my door."
As a matter of fact Major Hersey's sitting-room was upon the first floor
of the house and near its entrance. Formerly his room must have been
either a small study or reception room, as the large drawing-rooms were
across the hall. But these were never in use at the present time and
kept always darkened, as a household symbol that all gayety and pleasure
had vanished from the homes of Germany.
It occurred to Jimmie Hersey at this instant to wonder if Hedwig
Liedermann had no friends. She was a handsome girl with light brown hair
and eyes and a gentle manner. Surely there must be some young German
officer in Coblenz who regarded her with favor! But if this were true he
had never appeared at her home at any hour when Major Hersey had caught
sight of him. It would not be difficult to recognize a German officer,
even if he should be wearing civilian clothes.
Besides why did Fraulein Liedermann not entertain her girl friends in
the drawing-rooms of her home? These rooms must have been used for
social purposes before the war, as the position of Colonel Liedermann's
family in Coblenz was of almost equal importance with the German
nobility.
"Oh, no one comes to call upon us at the front door any longer,"
Gretchen added amiably. "You see you are an American officer and use
this door and our friends do not wish to see you. They do not seem to
like you."
"They--they don't," Major Hersey thought other things to himself,
although naturally, in view of his audience, saying nothing unpleasant
aloud.
How stupid he was not to have guessed what the smallest daughter of the
house had just related! After all one could understand, the German
viewpoint since in spite of having been told to love our enemies, how
few of us have accomplished it?
It could not be agreeable to the defeated officers and soldiers of the
conquered German army to enter the homes of their friends and find them
occupied by the victors.
"Better run away now, Gretchen, it must be getting near your tea-time,"
the American officer suggested, the little girl having occasioned an
unpleasant train of thought by her final chatter.
But before Gretchen, who was not disposed to hurry, had departed, they
were both startled by the sudden ringing of the front door bell, the
bell whose silence they had been discussing, then they heard the noise
of people outside.
A little later, one of the maids having opened the door, Gretchen and
Major Hersey recognized familiar voices in the hall.
The same instant Gretchen escaped.
Then followed a cry from Frau Liedermann, and Sergeant Hackett's voice
and another voice replying.
Major Hersey, unable to guess what had taken place, and anxious, joined
the little group outside his door.
In his arms Sergeant Hackett was carrying Freia. It was apparent that
the little girl must have fallen and hurt herself, yet evidently her
injury was not serious. They were accompanied by Nora Jamison and the
little French girl, Louisa.
"I am so sorry, Frau Liedermann, a number of children were playing in
the park and Freia must have fallen among some stones. She was so
frightened I thought it best to come home with her and we had the good
fortune to meet Sergeant Hackett along the way. I don't think you will
find there is anything serious the matter; I am sorry if we have alarmed
you. I must return now to the hospital."
At this moment unexpectedly Frau Liedermann began to weep. She was a
little like a grown-up Gretchen, and one felt instinctively that she was
out of place in her husband's household. He was a stern and gloomy old
man, possibly too proud to reveal to strangers how bitterly angered he
was by the German defeat and the disgrace of his former emperor.
But Freia, whose name came to her from the legendary German goddess, who
represented "Life and light and laughter and love," was the adored child
of the family and particularly of the little mother to whom she was "her
wonder child."
"But you will stay and see if Freia is seriously hurt? You are a Red
Cross nurse and must know better than I," Frau Liedermann pleaded.
"Freia has so often said that she wished to have us meet, but you would
not come to our home and I could not go to you at your American Red
Cross hospital. Can the war not be over among us women at least? I have
relatives, brothers and sisters in America from whom I have not heard in
four years. Yet my husband thinks I am not a true German because I wish
to be happy and make friends again with our former foes."
Just for a fraction of a second Nora Jamison's eyelids were lowered and
her face changed color. Was it possible that she did not desire to
forgive and forget as the little German frau appeared to wish? Was
there not a grave near Chateau-Thierry and a memory which must forever
divide them?
And yet of course one did not wish to be unkind.
"Please stay just a minute," Freia pleaded.
The following moment Major Hersey watched the little procession climbing
the stairs to the second floor of the house where the family were living
at present. First Frau Liedermann led the way, then Freia walking, but
holding close to Miss Jamison's hand, Gretchen and Louisa just behind
them.
Afterwards Major Hersey was glad to have been a witness to this first
introduction of Nora Jamison, into the German household.