CHAPTER 20

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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End of Project Gutenberg's A Maid and a Million Men, by James G Dunton