GI Brides (71 page)

“Sure!” said Charlie, in turn searching the boy’s face.

“Lieutenant, I mean,” said the young soldier, turning red and saluting apologetically.

“Why, sure, but—who are you?” said Charlie. Then his face broke into a grin. “Walter Blake, as I live! You don’t mean to say you’re in the army
already
?”

“Oh, sure,” said the lad, straightening up and trying to look old and experienced. “I’ve been in this camp two months already. I think they’re sending me off somewhere worthwhile pretty soon.”

“You don’t say!” said Charlie, astonished. “But surely you are not old enough yet?”

“I was seventeen three months ago, and Mom signed up for me,” said the lad. “She said there was no use trying to hold me any longer, and both my brothers are in.”

“Well, I am surprised. Why, kid, I don’t see how the home ball teams are going to get along without you. You haven’t finished high school yet, have you?”

“Sure!” said the lad. “I took summer school, and then they gave some of us examinations and allowed us to graduate. We could either go into college, engineering, or the service. I chose the army.”

“Good work, kid. Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s swell! I like it a lot, but I’m about ready to get into some real work.”

“I see,” said Charlie, smiling. “Well, I suppose that’s what we all feel.”

Walter looked up wonderingly.

“But
you’re
in!” he said with a glance at the insignia Charlie wore. “You’re a lieutenant. Do you feel that way?”

“Sure I do,” said Charlie. “What do you suppose I’m here for? Amusement?”

There was new respect, almost adoration in the lad’s eyes. “You are wearing—wings!”

Charlie smiled.

“Where are you going?” He breathed the words eagerly. “Or must I not ask?”

Charlie smiled again.

“I wish I could tell you, but—”

“It is a military secret?” the boy asked. “It is, then, something quite important. I was sure you would have something of that sort. Oh, if it might be that I could go
with you
!” The boy’s words were almost like a prayer.

But when Charlie Montgomery spoke, his words were quite commonplace.

“I wish it might be, lad,” said the former football star, smiling down on the younger man most kindly. “I would like nothing better than to have you for my companion. But I’m afraid that would be out of the question. Mine will probably be a solitary way. But I’ll be thinking of you. I hope you’ll have some great needful part in this war, and I’m sure you’ll do as good work, whatever it is, as you used to do on the field in the old days.”

The younger man flushed, and there was a pleased light in his eyes as he marched in step with Charlie.

“It seems to me I used to see you at some of our college games,” said Charlie.

“You sure did!” said young Walter. “I used to come to all the games in our city whenever your college played the university. I stuck by you and cheered you for all I was worth.”

“Good work!” said Charlie. “I guess that’s why we won so often when we came to the home city. But it seems to me you came to one or two other places where we played, too. Wasn’t that so?”

“I sure did. I used to work overtime to get money to follow you around wherever you were playing, if it was at all possible. You were always my hero. That’s why I’d like to get transferred to your outfit if I could.” The boy’s tone was wistful.

“Well I certainly appreciate that, Walt, and I wish it could be managed, but I don’t see any chance at present. Maybe we’ll run up against each other again.”

“I sure hope we do!” said young Walter sadly. “Say, are you thinking of going over to the meeting tonight? Ever heard that Silverthorn? He’s swell! All the fellows like him. I’d like to go with you if you do.”

“Silverthorn! Why yes, I’ve heard
about
him. All right, I’d like to go with you if I find, after I check in, that I am free this evening. It’s nice to see somebody from the hometown, you know. Where shall I find you? What time?”

“Oh, I’ll stick around and show up when you’re ready.”

The two parted and Charlie went in to make his arrangements and get his orders. A little later, after mess, he came out to find Walter Blake waiting for him shyly, and together they walked over to the auditorium that was already filling up fast.

The place was brilliantly lighted and a burst of song greeted them as they stepped inside and found seats.

There was something heartening and thrilling in the music from so many men’s voices. For an instant it almost seemed to Charlie as if it might be a church service at home where he used to go with his mother when he was a youngster, and something constricted his throat and brought a sudden mist to his eyes as he remembered the past. Only this singing had more volume and power, more enthusiasm than they ever had in those old days at home. He gave a quick look around and noticed with how much fervor most of the men sang, as if they loved it. As if they meant every word they were singing.

It was an old hymn they were singing, and presently Charlie, noticing that Walter was joining in with a clear voice, found himself singing, too.

He could almost hear his mother’s voice quavering through the words. Those last weeks when she was with him, after her long illness, her voice was soft and unsteady. And sometimes she could not sing very loud, just a sweet little quaver, a tremble. She hadn’t really been well enough to go to church, but she had insisted upon doing so. She said she needed the strength she drew from the service. He was glad that the last few times they went he had managed either to borrow a car to take her, or to get a taxi. That was just a few weeks before her last illness and death, and as Charlie sat there with that old song his mother had loved surging about him, he felt the tears stinging into his eyes, and a great longing came into his heart that he might find his mother’s refuge, which he was sure she had.

That part of the song didn’t mean much to Charlie. He wasn’t conscious of being a sinner. At least not much of a sinner. He had been taught to be clean and true by his wonderful mother, and had always been too busy to break laws and carry on the way most boys did, which was what sin meant to his mind. But this was the good old-fashioned Gospel, of course, that his mother had taught him, and he had accepted it without a thought. So it wasn’t sin that was troubling Charlie. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was that troubled him, only that he was presently going out alone to meet death, and he felt he needed
something.

The singing went on. Many old hymns, new choruses, too, in a little red book, and he enjoyed using his voice and being a part of the swelling melody that was filling the hall.

Then there came upon the platform a young man in uniform walking easily, assuredly.

“That’s him,” murmured Walter in his ear. “That’s Lincoln Silverthorn.”

“But—he’s in the
service
?”

“Sure! He’s a chaplain, s’posed to be! But he’s different from a lot of them. He’s real!”

And now Lincoln Silverthorne was speaking.

“Good evening, fellows,” he said in his clear, pleasant voice that seemed to be speaking personally to each one in the room. “I’ve got a pleasant surprise for you. Just a few minutes ago a good friend of mine who has worked with me for several years walked in on me. He has a great voice that can sing to your heart, and he’s going to sing for you and strike a keynote for my message tonight. Fellows, this is my buddy, Lieutenant Luther Waite, and he’s doing a very important work for our war. Go ahead, Lutie!”

And then a big redheaded fellow, also in uniform, came forward, grinning.

“Glad to meet you, fellas,” he said, and then began to sing.

It was a rich, full voice, and it held the audience from the start, every note clear, every word distinct:

Probably some fellow who was reformed in some mission or other, thought Charlie, as he settled back under the spell of the song.

But as the song progressed, the singer’s eyes seemed to seek out Charlie and tell his story directly to him. There was something about the way those true fine eyes held his attention and made him listen to every word, on through several verses, that made the singing a story of the man’s life, the story a testimony of what the Lord Jesus Christ had done for him.

And when he came to the last four lines, those earnest eyes, which seemed to have been piercing Charlie’s soul, looked deep into Charlie’s eyes again as if they were alone and were having a conversation.

The singer’s manner was most impassioned.

Charlie was startlingly aware of being charged with something that he had never before felt was true. “He’s done the same for you!” seemed to be aimed directly at himself, as something that had been done for him, of which he had never been aware before, and for which he never made any acknowledgment to the Donor. He was filled with a sudden compunction, a kind of new shame.

And then at once his self-esteem began to assert itself, that he
wasn’t
a sinner. Not a sinner like that, who needed
saving
!

It was strange that almost upon that thought came Link Silverthorn’s words, announcing his theme.

“
All
have sinned and come short of the glory of God…. The wages of sin is death.”

There was a tense silence that gripped every listening heart. Even the protest that was beginning to form in Charlie Montgomery’s heart, the outcry against being called a sinner, was silenced, as everyone waited for the next word about this hopeless situation in which they had all found themselves to be.

“The greatest sin,
all
sin, is not believing in Christ, who took all our sin on Himself, and paid the price with His own blood. Unbelief is not accepting what He did, not accepting it for ourselves.”

The speaker was very still for a moment, letting them take that in. Then he went on.

“Some of you think you are not sinners, don’t you? But you are. That’s not my idea. You look pretty fine to me. But
God says
you are. Ever since Adam sinned we were all born sinners. God told Adam that there was but one law to keep. He must keep that one law or death would come into the world. Adam broke the law, took the forbidden fruit, and since then we are all born sinners, and are all under condemnation of death for our sin. But God loves us, and He made a way for condemned sinners to be saved through accepting what Christ His son did for them.

“Did you ever think of Christ as having come voluntarily away from heaven and glory to live down here and be crucified in your place, just as if He had been the sinner, not you? Have you ever considered Him there upon the cross in your place, where
you
belonged, bearing upon His sinless self every thought and word and action, and even that indifference of yours, just as if they had been His sins, and bearing it even unto death?”

As the young chaplain talked, he seemed to be possessed of a supernatural power to create a picture of what he was saying, so that as he went on, with simple words like strokes of an artist’s brush, there appeared a vision before the listeners’ eyes of the Christ, standing before His persecutors; standing before Pilate and those unbelievers who would stone Him, kill Him, anything to get rid of Him. Somehow Charlie began to feel himself one of those unbelievers who had not accepted the Christ for what He was willing to be to him, and a great desire came into his heart to align himself with the followers of Jesus, and not with the unbelievers. He felt it so keenly that he longed to be able to go up to that silent figure standing alone and tell Him he wanted to follow Him. It was not pity he felt, for somehow that quiet figure of the Savior of the world, who seemed to be standing up there on the platform alone, had a majesty about Him that defied pity.

And now came the cross, and Jesus, lifted up with all that sin—sin of the whole world—upon Him, and all the world’s death punishment to bear! Never before had Charlie Montgomery felt that he himself had had anything to do with hanging the Son of God upon that cross. But now he suddenly saw it. Charlie Montgomery, who had always been so proud of himself that he had gone through school and college against such great odds, always so smugly sure that he was doing the right thing, and always would do the right thing, he had been one who had helped to crucify the Son of God when He was dying for him!

It was very still in that big hall. The speaker had utmost attention. Perhaps all those young men were seeing that same vision of Jesus, up there suffering for their sins.

Once Charlie gave a quick glance around and saw the deep interest in all eyes. Even the boy by his side was all interest. Jesus, the Savior of the world, was holding them all, and Charlie Montgomery felt that he had found what he had been seeking—a Person. Jesus the crucified was what he sought. It was his mother’s Christ. He had a strange feeling during the closing prayer that he wanted to slip up to that platform and tell the Christ who had been dying there for him that now he believed. That now henceforward through what days were left for him to live, he wanted to walk with Christ. He bowed his head quietly and found there were tears on his face.

As the petition at the close of that wonderful message came to an end, the big man with the great voice and the red hair began to sing.