Chapter 14

“Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Jordan Shayne,” Hugo wrote. Then he paused in
thought. He began again. “I met your son in Marseilles and was with
him most of the time until his death.” He hesitated. “In fact, he
died in my arms from the effect of the same shell which sent me to
this hospital. He is buried in Carcy cemetery, on the south side.
It is for that reason I take the liberty to address you.
“I thought that you would like to know some of the things that he
did not write to you. Your son enlisted because he felt the war
involved certain ideals that were worthy of preservation. That he
gave his life for those ideals must be a source of pride to you. In
training he was always controlled, kindly, unquarrelsome,
comprehending. In battle he was aggressive, brilliant, and more
courageous than any other man I have ever known.
“In October, a year ago, he was decorated for bringing in Captain
Crouan, who was severely wounded during an attack that was
repulsed. Under heavy shell fire Tom went boldly into no man’s
land and carried the officer from a shell pit on his back. At the
time Tom himself sustained three wounds. He was mentioned a number
of times in the dispatches for his leadership of attacks and
patrols. He was decorated a second time for the capture of a German
field officer and three of his staff, a coup which your son
executed almost single-handed.

“Following his death his company made an attack to avenge him,
which wiped out the entire enemy position along a sector nearly a
kilometre in width and which brought a permanent advantage to the
Allied lines. That is mute testimony of his popularity among the
officers and men. I know of no man more worthy of the name
‘American, ‘ no American more worthy of the words ‘gentleman’ and
‘hero.’

“I realize the slight comfort of these things, and yet I feel bound
to tell you of them, because Tom was my friend, and his death is
grievous to me as well as to you.

“Yours sincerely,

“(LIEUTENANT) HUGO DANNER”

Hugo posted the letter. When the answer came, he was once again in action, the guns chugging and rumbling, the earth shaking. The reply read:

“DEAR LIEUTENANT DANNER:

“Thank you for your letter in reference to our son. We knew that he
had enlisted in some foreign service. We did not know of his
death. I am having your statements checked, because, if they are
true, I shall be one of the happiest persons alive, and his mother
will be both happy and sad. The side of young Tom which you claim
to have seen is one quite unfamiliar to us. At home he was always a
waster, much of a snob, and impossible to control. It may be harsh
to say such things of him now that he is dead, but I cannot recall
one noble deed, one unselfish act, in his life here with us.
“That I have a dead son would not sadden me. Tom had been
disinherited by us, his mother and father. But that my dead son was
a hero makes me feel that at last, coming into the Shayne blood and
heritage, he has atoned. And so I honour him. If the records show
that all you said of him is true, I shall not only honour him in
this country, but I shall come to France to pay my tribute with a
full heart and a knowledge that neither he nor I lived in vain.
“Gratefully yours,

“R. J. SHAYNE”

Hugo reread the letter and stood awhile with wistful eyes. He remembered Shayne’s Aunt Emma, Shayne’s bitter calumniation of his family. Well, they had not understood him and he had not wanted them to understand him. Perhaps Shayne had been more content than he admitted in the mud of the trenches. The war had been a real thing to him. Hugo thought of its insufficiencies for himself. The world was not enough for Shayne, but the war had been. Both were insufficient for Hugo Danner. He listened to the thunder in the sky tiredly.