That was the beginning.At the middle of that week Conway sent another dispatch.The editor who received it took it into the office of the Sunday editor.
"Say," he said, "here are more particulars about that young chap Speranza, the one we printed the special about last Sunday.He must have been a corker.When his lieutenant was put out of business by a shrapnel this Speranza chap rallied the men and jammed 'em through the Huns like a hot knife through butter.
Killed the German officer and took three prisoners all by himself.
Carried his wounded lieutenant to the rear on his shoulders, too.
Then he went back into the ruins to get another wounded man and was blown to slivers by a hand grenade.He's been cited in orders and will probably be decorated by the French--that is, his memory will be.Pretty good for a poet, I'd say.No 'lilies and languors'
about that, eh?"
The Sunday editor nodded approval.
"Great stuff!" he exclaimed."Let me have that dispatch, will you, when you've finished.I've just discovered that this young Speranza's father was Speranza, the opera baritone.You remember him? And his mother was the daughter of a Cape Cod sea captain.
How's that? Spain, Cape Cod, opera, poetry and the Croix de Guerre.And have you looked at the young fellow's photograph?
Combination of Adonis and 'Romeo, where art thou.' I've had no less than twenty letters about him and his poetry already.Next Sunday we'll have a special "as is." Where can I get hold of a lot of his poems?"The "special as was" occupied an entire page.A reporter had visited South Harniss and had taken photographs of the Snow place and some of its occupants.Captain Zelotes had refused to pose, but there was a view of the building and yards of "Z.Snow and Co."with the picturesque figure of Mr.Issachar Price tastefully draped against a pile of boards in the right foreground.Issy had been a find for the reporter; he supplied the latter with every fact concerning Albert which he could remember and some that he invented on the spur of the moment.According to Issy, Albert was "a fine, fust-class young feller.Him and me was like brothers, as you might say.When he got into trouble, or was undecided or anything, he'd come to me for advice and I always gave it to him.Land, yes!
I always give to Albert.No matter how busy I was I always stopped work to help HIM out." The reporter added that Mr.Price stopped work even while speaking of it.
The special attracted the notice of other newspaper editors.This skirmish in which Albert had taken so gallant part was among the first in which our soldiers had participated.So the story was copied and recopied.The tale of the death of the young poet, the "happy warrior," as some writer called him, was spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific and from Canada to the Gulf.And just at this psychological moment the New York publisher brought out the long deferred volume.The Lances of Dawn, Being the Collected Poems of Albert M.C.Speranza, such was its title.
Meanwhile, or, rather, within the week when the Lances of Dawn flashed upon the public, Captain Zelotes received a letter from the captain of Albert's regiment in France.It was not a long letter, for the captain was a busy man, but it was the kindly, sympathetic letter of one who was, literally, that well-advertised combination, an officer and a gentleman.It told of Albert's promotion to the rank of sergeant, "a promotion which, had the boy been spared, would, I am sure, have been the forerunner of others." It told of that last fight, the struggle for the village, of Sergeant Speranza's coolness and daring and of his rush back into the throat of death to save a wounded comrade.
The men tell me they tried to stop him (wrote the captain).He was himself slightly wounded, he had just brought Lieutenant Stacey back to safety and the enemy at that moment was again advancing through the village.But he insisted upon going.The man he was trying to rescue was a private in his company and the pair were great friends.So he started back alone, although several followed him a moment later.They saw him enter the ruined cottage where his friend lay.Then a party of the enemy appeared at the corner and flung grenades.The entire side of the cottage which he had just entered was blown in and the Germans passed on over it, causing our men to fall back temporarily.We retook the place within half an hour.Private Kelly's body--it was Private Kelly whom Sergeant Speranza was attempting to rescue--was found and another, badly disfigured, which was at first supposed to be that of your grandson.But this body was subsequently identified as that of a private named Hamlin who was killed when the enemy first charged.Sergeant Speranza's body is still missing, but is thought to be buried beneath the ruins of the cottage.These ruins were subsequently blown into further chaos by a high explosive shell.
Then followed more expressions of regret and sympathy and confirmation of the report concerning citation and the war cross.
Captain Lote read the letter at first alone in his private office.
Then he brought it home and gave it to his wife to read.Afterward he read it aloud to Mrs.Ellis and to Laban, who was making his usual call in the Snow kitchen.
When the reading was ended Labe was the first to speak.His eyes were shining.
"Godfreys!" he exclaimed.Godfreys, Cap'n Lote!"The captain seemed to understand.
"You're right, Labe," he said."The boy's made us proud of him....Prouder than some of us are of ourselves, I cal'late,"he added, rising and moving toward the door.
"Sho, sho, Cap'n, you mustn't feel that way.No, no.""Humph!...Labe, I presume likely if I was a pious man, one of the old-fashioned kind of pious, and believed the Almighty went out of his way to get square with any human bein' that made a mistake or didn't do the right thing--if I believed that I might figger all this was a sort of special judgment on me for my prejudices, eh?"Mr.Keeler was much disturbed.
