THE TAIL OF THE TALE
—1—
The War was over, and I was glad. There was no fun in this army game now
that Ben was not here. I didn’t know what to do with myself. The new man
was a good fellow, I guess, but it didn’t seem natural for him to be in
Ben’s place, and I just couldn’t be more than casually friendly to him.
I’d be glad to go home and get away from all this. I had had enough.
More than enough.
We were at Nancy when the Armistice was announced. We stood at the
window in the General’s hotel room, overlooking one of the main public
squares, and watched the milling crowds stumble around in confusion, as
if they wanted to celebrate but didn’t know how. At first nobody would
believe that this four-years’ struggle had really ended. Men and women
just stood about and stared dumbly at one another, wondering if it could
be true.
Later, however, they did begin to celebrate. The cafés put the contents
of their shelves upon the bars, every house door was opened and had
“Welcome” written all over it, mademoiselles threw their arms around
every man they met, strong men drank and wept for pure joy and women
wept tears of gladness and sorrow all mixed in together. It was a gala
day by mid-afternoon and I imagine every little village felt the
exhilaration of the long-hoped-for moment quite as much as did Paris and
Tours, Lyons and Marseilles.
That afternoon the General watched the surging mob of men and women of
various nationalities welcoming the news in the square. People were
beginning to get hilarious and drunken soldiers were being caressed by
every woman that passed. I was feeling aglow with some kind of happiness
that I couldn’t quite define: there was a lump in my throat most of the
day. Chilblaines was obviously tickled to death with the prospect of an
early return to his home.... And then the General observed slowly, “Let
them celebrate and enjoy themselves while they can! The poor creatures
do not realize that the part of this business that’s to come will be
worse in some ways than what has gone before. It will be years and years
of toil and confusion and misunderstanding and suspicion and squabbling
before the peace and happiness and security which they are celebrating
will be actually in their possession.... After a war like this, the
peace is usually harder to stand than the war was.... Let them rejoice
when they are assured that there will be no more wars! This war may be
just the beginning....”
This declaration coming from the General served to dampen our spirits a
little, but before the evening had come I slipped away and tried to join
in the celebrating.... But there was no fun in it for me. I just
couldn’t be gay, no matter how hard I tried. I drank wine and even a sip
of cognac, but the something inside that controls your feelings just
refused to click. The more revelry I witnessed and the more hilarity
that surged about me, the more poignant came my memories of Ben. How he
would have loved this! He would have been in his glory in this mad
multitude!
It was funny I should feel this way. I didn’t love Ben, in the sense
that I loved Clark. My feeling for him was something entirely different
altogether. Yet I felt the loss of him every minute of the day. I guess
it was like one of those wonderful friendships between men: I mean, I
didn’t look upon Ben from a girl’s point of view at all—he was just my
pal, my buddy, my chum. And I guess it’s as bad to lose your chum as it
would be to lose your lover.
—2—
I was back in Tours again on the 1st of December after wandering all
over that rainy country. Received a letter from Leon saying that he was
at St. Nazaire in a hospital and expected to be sent home on the next
ship out. He was going to write to me as soon as he arrived, and as soon
as he was discharged he’d have to do something about getting me out of
this army. This was a devil of a predicament to be in: I couldn’t say
that I wanted to go home, because I couldn’t be sure I could get out
when I got there. We’d simply got to wait until Leon’s leg was all
healed up, otherwise I’d be nabbed when I went up for discharge. I was
beginning to get worried about it. The General was talking about asking
to be sent back to the States. He said there were too many officers over
there now and some younger man could do his work just as well as not. He
asked me why I didn’t get a discharge over here and travel around a
little.... How in the devil could I get a discharge! If I could get one,
I’d get married.
I spent Christmas with Clark in Paris, and we managed to have a good
time. He told me, for the first time, how sorry he was to hear about
Ben. “The big galoot was a good man in all the ways that count,” he
said, after I told him the details of the misfortune. “I’ll always be
thankful to him for his effort in your behalf—it was wonderful!”
He wanted us to get married, but I absolutely refused. “If I were out of
the army, I’d marry you in a minute,” I told him. “But I simply can’t
now.... Besides, it just doesn’t seem right or decent, or anything.... I
want to be married like all decent people are married. I don’t want to
be dodging M.P.s and worrying about babies and having to play two rôles
all the time day in and day out. Can’t you understand, dear?”
He did understand, but we couldn’t either of us think of any way to
speed matters along. And the worst of it was that he expected to be sent
back to the States within a few weeks on some mission or other. I
probably wouldn’t get back over there for months.... But what could we
do?
—3—
Our worst fears were realized. Early in January Clark told me that he
was going back to Washington, leaving in three days.... And he was mad
because I wouldn’t marry him before he went. But I wouldn’t—that was
all there was to it. I’d got enough to worry about already without
taking on any more worries.
A letter from Leon carried pleasant news. They took you from the ship
when you landed in U.S.A. and made you take off all your clothes and
take a steam bath while your clothes were being deloused. He said he
hadn’t figured out any way of getting around the delousing plant, and
I’m sure I didn’t know what I could do when that moment came. It began
to look as if I was stuck in France for the rest of my life: couldn’t go
home for fear of a delousing plant!
Well, I could stick it out, I suppose, until Leon got well and could
come over here to take my place.
God, but I hated to see Clark go! I’d be all alone in this man’s army
after he left. C’est la guerre, I guess.
—4—
At the end of January I received some letters from home which told me
that Leon had his discharge and was hanging around New York trying to
figure out some way of getting back over. He couldn’t get a passport
under his own name, because I was using it, and he couldn’t get one
under his alias, because he couldn’t show any birth record. I thought
that in a pinch he could dress in my clothes and get one in my name—but
after the wear and tear of army life he wouldn’t make a very good
looking girl, and it would have to be an extremity to make him do it.
But what could be done about it? It would certainly be a shame to get
this far with the impersonation and get caught—and in a delousing
plant, at that! Would be like winning medals and then dying of the
measles, as Ben said. Well, I’d got his address in New York and had got
to tell him to do something pretty soon, because I couldn’t stay over
there forever! I was getting sick of it all. I didn’t have any fun or
excitement like I used to have with Ben. I never realized before what an
awful difference a friend’s presence or absence could make in anyone’s
daily life. The General said I looked as if he were working me too hard,
but actually we weren’t working any harder than before the Armistice.
The only difference was that now we spent most of our time making
investigations of thefts and property losses and damage suits brought by
French citizens against the army and its members, whereas before we had
a much wider and more varied program of work.
—5—
Just as I feared. I was doomed. The General got himself relieved and
ordered back to the States and he thought he was doing me a good turn by
arranging that I be sent back immediately also, so here we were, ready
to embark, and I was just chilled through with expectations of what was
in store for me. I hadn’t the least idea what I was going to do, but
just to be doing something I sent a cable to Leon to park himself
wherever this ship docked and be ready for any kind of an emergency. I
had to word the message very cryptically and in good terms, but unless
he was too dumb to live he’d understand and be there.
What would happen next—God alone knew!... Also I hadn’t heard from
Clark lately. He was kinda peeved when he left Paris and I was wondering
whether our little affair weren’t just a brief romance after all. I’d
certainly feel terrible if he decided to change his mind about me: he
was the only one who knew about us, and if he went back on me now I’d
feel ashamed the rest of my life. I mean, if I did get through
safely—and I didn’t see how I could!—I really ought to marry him to
keep his mouth shut about my ever having been in this man’s army. But I
couldn’t make him marry me—after all, I was not a ruined woman or
anything like that, and I really hadn’t any claim on him, except that I
loved him a dreadful lot. That ought to be enough—provided he loved me.
However, a fig for that till this mess was cleared up!
* * * * *
Homeward bound, on board the U.S.S. M——!—and I knew every hour that
passed brought me nearer to my doom. I liked sea voyages, but I’d be
damned if I could enjoy this one. Just like riding to the guillotine.
I had a funny experience coming over. Happened to pass the sick bay and
a fellow was lying there near the door so that I couldn’t miss seeing
him. I caught him staring at me, and then he smiled. I couldn’t place
him at first, but finally I did. It was that Lowery, the fellow with the
toes that used to get Leon’s goat back in camp. I went in and spoke to
him then. “What’s the matter with you?” I asked.
“Got my foot smashed in a cave-in and they had to take it off,” he
replied, much as if the whole thing were a matter of no importance.
“You don’t look very sick over it,” I said with a smile.
“Why the hell should I be sick over that?” he demanded with a laugh.
“I’ve only got one set o’ toes to mind now!” And he reached down toward
his good foot. “Honest to God, buddy, they itch like hell all the time!”
I had to laugh. I was a regular pollyanna now. “There are advantages to
all things, eh?” I observed, and I reached over and gave the disabled
one’s toes a dozen or so violent rubbings, while he just lay back and
stared at me in amazement.
“My God!” he exclaimed. “I must be beaucoup zigzag!... Boy, war may be
hell on some fellows, but it sure did you a hell of a lot of good!”
I pinched his big toe and left him with a laugh.
The big day was due to-morrow. I was desperate, and I evolved a
desperate scheme. If it worked, I was saved. If it flopped, I was a
stripped chicken.... Once again I started saying my prayers. There had
to be some Omnipotent Power above who could spare a few moments in which
to help me safely by that damned delousing plant! Might he take the
time—I was a maiden in distress if there ever was one!
—6—
Leon was on hand at the docks in New York, although I don’t know how he
managed to get so close to the works. He followed me with his eyes and
saw which truck I got in, then he hopped in a car, which he must have
just purchased, and followed closely along.
We reached a camp somewhere or other over in Jersey and piled out of the
truck.... Well, what happened was that I had five ten dollar bills in my
hand and it takes a good man to withstand the lure of cold cash. I never
went through that damned delouser after all, for I bought my way out on
the promise that I’d return in ten minutes—and as far as that bozo
knows, I returned. However, Sergeant Major Leon Canwick was himself in
person this time, and he didn’t mind undressing before anyone now: in
fact he said he’d just as leave undress before the Queen of England if
she asked him to. That’s what the army did to him.
Well, I went into New York in his clothes, waited to hear from him. As
soon as I knew that he was safe, I’d buy some clothes and hop for
Wakeham. “Home, boys, Home, boys, ’tis home across the sea! Home, boys,
Home, to the land of Liberty! We’ll hang Old Glory to the top of the
pole, and we’ll all of us reënlist—!” But not this chicken.
I was still shivering from the nerve strain.... And, I wondered where my
lover was to-night?
—7—
Speedy work on Sergeant Major Canwick: he painted his scar with some
kind of grease paint, took his physical exam without a shiver, and was
home again. Vyvy loved him more than ever and actually made me blush
telling him about his wonderful letters!
I wrote to Clark as soon as I got home, but I hadn’t heard anything from
him and didn’t know whether he was still in Washington or back in
France—or anything else about him. Frankly, I didn’t feel so good about
it now. I wanted that man when I wanted him. And I was all dressed up
now with no place to go. Auntie said my language was disgraceful but she
didn’t mind, so I spent most of my time with her. And poor Esky hadn’t
got used to me in dresses yet. He acted really funny: didn’t know half
the time whether it was Leon or me that was in front of him.
One afternoon Leon was getting ready to go out, when the doorbell rang
and he was handy, so he answered it. A man in uniform rushed in and
wrapped his arms around my dear sweet brother and was going to kiss him
right on the mouth!
But Leon hauled off and pasted him one in the jaw, and there was such
force in the blow that the visitor promptly desisted.
“What’s the big idea?” demanded Leon, without batting an eye.
“Why—uh—er——”
But just then I appeared and fluttered prettily into view. My hair was
curled just the least bit at the ends and I was all made up to look my
prettiest.... I almost fell down the stairs and into his arms, and all I
could say was “Clark—you darling!”
“Oh ... Leony, you little devil!”
We forgot all about Leon. I thought he had gone out, but a few minutes
later—about the end of kiss No. 11—the bell rings again and in pops
Vyvy with a book under her arm.
“Look at it! Look what I’ve got!” she exclaimed. “It’s the very first
copy, too!”
Well, Clark had never met Vyvy, but before we made any introductions, we
both looked over her shoulder to see what kind of a wild animal she had
captured. On the back of the book were the following illuminating lines:
KOCKEYED RHYMES
OF A KHAKI KID
By
Leon Canwick
My dear sweet love of a brother was a real genuine honest-to-God poet
after all! Vive la muck of war!
What Clark and I did the rest of the evening defies description in mere
cold words. Any remarks on my part would be superfluous.... Really
truly, if any girl ever loved a man more than I did him, she belonged in
a nut conservatoire!
A week later Clark received his new assignment sending him back to
Europe within a month.... Naturally we were very rushed: one just can’t
pick up one’s hankies and have a wedding!
* * * * *
There must be disappointments even in paradise. I mean, everything can’t
be just sunshine and roses.... All of which is apropos of a letter I
received from the Bureau of War-Risk Insurance, informing me that
Sergeant Benjamin Garlotz had changed the beneficiary of his compulsory
insurance policy on October 20, 1918, and that I was the beneficiary.
General Backett was the secondary beneficiary. I didn’t know how to feel
about it. The letter came to Leon, of course, and when he passed it over
to me, I just had to cry; good old Ben ... must have changed his policy
just after that dreadful experience at St. Nazaire and his unexpected
promotion. And I thought at the time that he didn’t appreciate the
promotion!... The money would go back to France where Ben’s body was. We
would give it decent burial ... put a stone above it that would catch
the eye of whosoever should pass ... and all who saw it would read there
of a hard-boiled guy who had no one at home to mourn his heroic
death.... As General Backett said, in telling me about the medal for
Ben: “There weren’t enough medals to go round—but he needs no medal to
make me proud of him!”
The most wonderful things never happen. It would have been so good to
have Ben be our best man after all....
* * * * *
There was a wedding in Wakeham’s largest church. There were ushers in
quantity, bridesmaids and flower girls, all the traditional pomp and
splendor of a beautiful wedding service ... but there was no best man!
My Clark could never in all his life do anything that would make me
honor him and love him more than I did because he suggested this fine
way of honoring the man who was the best of pals to both of us.... A man
that could think of a thing like that and do it was almost too fine to
be true. It injected a sad note into what would ordinarily have been a
festive occasion and we had to explain it by referring to Ben as a dear
friend of Major Winstead’s—but we were both glad that we did it. I
mean, a thing like that makes you feel so warm and good—and it made us
love each other all the more ... it was as if Ben’s death bound us the
closer and faster together. This was not really so odd, since we owed
Ben such a lot: he was my friend, faithful and good to me; he was my
tutor in the vulgar arts that make life interesting; to him I was
indebted for much of a liberal education—an education which was
blissfully completed during that honeymoon in the very land and among
the very scenes of my adventure.
Back to France on the great adventure, the one and only adventure which
a woman can’t have without a man’s assistance!— Back to the theater
that had been “for men only”—but now the play was ended, the mask was
off, the Canwick tomboy was a blushing bride: for I have to report that
I still could blush!
* * * * *
And that is the Tail of the Tale, for since that first night beyond the
altar I have conscientiously rendered unto Caesar the things that are
Caesar’s, and unto the Headman all that’s left—for, after all, my
prayers were answered. And HOW!
The rest is silence.
THE END
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