The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1918-10-19
THE CRAVEN FEW

for many nights. She had not slept much since
they had sent her word that her son was dead
Why should she weep, she asked herself, fiercely
given all that he was for his country. And she
was too proud to weep.
If she wept, she told herself, lying with dry
eyes, hooking into the darkness, it would not be
for her son, who lay in his grave in Flanders,
but for those other women, who had no sons
to go.
Those were the women to be pitied, the women
who were to be wept for, not she who had given
all that she had to make men free.
But there was bitterness in her heart as she
lay in the silence of the night, gazing into the
darkness. When she had sent her son to fight
for his country she had thought that this was
the greatest country in the world. But now she
wondered. And wondering, suddenly the tears
came, and she wept.
She had been proud of her country, she
had been so glad to give her son to defend his
flag, she was glad beyond words that he had
made the supreme sacrifice.
But lately strange doubt had crept into her
woman-mind. Not doubt of her country not
less for its flag, not less devotion to it's
principles, but sort of bitter wonder about the
| men and women who had no sons to give, for
whom her son fighting.
| She had stood, the day before, shrinking
| figure corner, and had listened as men stood
and pleaded for money to buy guns that the
! boys might fight over there. At first she could
not believe it. 1t was incredible. It was mon
strous. Begging for money to buy the bare ne
| cessities for the fight.
| Could it be that the men and the women who
had no sons to give did not know. Could it be
| that because they had not been given to them
to give all, that they would give nothing. Could
| it be that they whose part was only to give
money, would refuse their only chance to serve
their country?
She had thought of her country as so brave
she had held it's honor so high, she had trusted
her son to it, had given him with such high
courage, such brave devotion.
And now they were begging, begging, begging
that he might have gun to put in his hand.
And weeping, she slept
And as she slept, she thought he came to her
and took her by the hand. And that she looked
and before them was high hill, up which a
great army charged. And that it was a strange
motley army. She thought there were women
in shabby clothes and men in broadcloth and
high silk hats, and children, with up-lifted faces,
and more men and more women and more chill
dren, in the habiiments of the rich and the poor,
and that they seemed to sweep onward and on
ward, terrific, powerful force, back of the
armies of America before which the Germans
fled.
And she thought that beneath their feet they
were treading down craven crew.
And she thought that her son pointed to those
who swept forward to the heights, and cried
See! These are they who will America
These Are the People! The people who count
These are men and women, the boys and the
girls who belong to the Fighting Fourth, which
makes for victory
And the woman, said with sob: "And who |
are these and pointed to the chosen few. And
her laid his hand on hers and turned her
face away, with sob in his throat: These" he |
said, "are those who have failed us. They are |