275: Lorna also . . .
Herb ’n’ Lorna, Chapter 6 continues
LORNA also threw herself into work. All over America, women answered the call to do the work of men who had answered the call to war. In Chacallit, there was much work to do.
In the years before the United States entered the war, Chacallitans gave the outward appearance of favoring neutrality, but in fact neutrality had made everyone nervous, since Chacallitans of German and British background distrusted one another’s private convictions. When the United States had finally decided to go to war, Chacallit had rushed to support the decision. Several of the young men of Chacallit had enlisted at once, and the town was surprised to find itself fuming unanimously with anti-German sentiment and puffing with pride in America and Chacallit. When the draft began, Chacallit showed none of the resistance shown in some other small towns — towns that answered the call by drafting ruffians, drunks, and layabouts — nor was there any of the grisly pettiness of towns where officials on a local draft board, handed the power to administer fear, pain, even death, used it to revenge lost boundary disputes or arguments over rights-of-way, to return, horribly inflated, schoolyard taunts, to exact satisfaction for cuckoldry. Chacallit sent its best, and the draftees were treated in the Chacallit Sentinel as if they’d already won the Croix de Guerre.
The gentlemen’s furnishings industry converted to production of bits and pieces for uniforms: buttons, buckles, snaps, grommets, hooks, clamps, straps, bandoliers, and such. Since women had long been employed in the mills of Chacallit, replacement sometimes meant advancement, when women moved into positions their supervisors vacated. Such was Lorna’s case. She had been the only woman in the carving section of the coarse-goods operation. Two of her co-workers enlisted, and her supervisor, John Caldwell, who had always kept to himself and rarely spoke to any of the workers on any subject but their work, surprised them all by announcing that he was leaving to assist in the work being done by the Young Men’s Christian Association in France. Said he, in part:
When this terrible war is over, who will return to us? Will the men who return to our shores prove to be a greater menace than the Prussian bullies? Will they be the sons and husbands and brothers we sent over there, or will they be a syphilitic horde of Frenchified monsters? I am going to France to do my part to see that when our boys return we can embrace them without fear and loathing. I’ll counsel abstinence, but I will also provide protection, for no doughboy should be without his three safeguards: his helmet, his mask, and his condoms.
Luther wanted Lorna to take over as supervisor of the coarse-goods division, but she demurred, for two reasons. One was personal: with Herb so much on her mind, she was embarrassed by her work and afraid of his finding out about it. The other was patriotic: she thought that she should be working on uniform fittings.
“Uncle Luther,” she said, “I can’t do what you want.” She took a deep breath. “In fact,” she said, “I think we should suspend production of ‘specialty items’ and put all our efforts into things that are necessary for the war.” She took another breath and pressed her lips together to keep herself from smiling with pride. She had been afraid to say what she felt she had to say, and she was proud and relieved to have said it. Luther stood and folded his arms across his chest.
“Necessary for the war,” he said, nodding his head. “Necessary for the war. And you know what is necessary for the war, do you? Do you think wars are won with bullets? Do you think wars are won with gas or grommets or belt buckles? Ha! Let me tell you something, Lorna my dear: wars are won with spirit! Wars are won with the will to win! I’d rather see the women of America writing lascivious letters to our boys than knitting socks and canning carrots! Spirit is what we want, and specialty jewelry helps build spirit.”
Turning partly away and taking his chin in his deficient hand, he said, “I wasn’t planning to announce this just yet, but I suppose now is the time. We’re going to begin producing specialty uniform buttons. They should be a wonderful morale booster.” He turned to look at Lorna again. “The tide of war turns in mysterious ways,” he said. “Who can say whether these buttons might not be enough to turn the tide in France?”
Luther gained the advantage, for the time being. He succeeded in making Lorna doubt herself and her motives. She hung her head and, with ambiguous feelings, agreed to take the supervisor’s job.
[to be continued on Tuesday, June 7, 2022]
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