by Alexa Kang
Anthony looked around. Unbelievable. Nate was winning them over. Even the few who he suspected had come tonight solely out of curiosity. Did they really believe Nate’s false sympathy and fear-mongering? Were people this gullible?
“We must assert ourselves in the war and lead the world to do what’s right.” Nate continued to stoke the small crowd. “We are the last line of defense. America is meant for greatness. We will not let the weak and the cowards speak for us anymore.”
Everyone in the room cheered. Anthony remained the only one unmoved. To him, Nate sounded like a buffoon, but the others had inexplicably fallen under his spell.
Ignoring Nate, he glanced at Brandon. Brandon’s face glowed with inspiration as if he had found a new religion, and Nate Sanders was the high priest.
He had never seen Brandon like this before. What happened to him?
They needed to talk. He didn’t like Nate Sanders. Whatever else the CDA might be about, he didn’t want Brandon involved with Nate. He needed to get him out of this. When the meeting ended, he tried to get Brandon to leave.
Brandon brushed him off. “I’ll catch up with you when I get back. I have some things to wrap up with Nate and Gretchen.” He continued talking to Nate. Regardless of what Anthony wanted, it would have to wait.
While Brandon practically ignored him, Nate made a point of smiling at him. It was a friendly smile, too friendly from someone he hardly knew. Anthony excused himself and headed for the door.
The whole situation made him uncomfortable.
“Anthony. Wait.” Gretchen Moore chased after him on his way out. “Thank you for joining us. Your coming means a lot to us.”
Out of courtesy, he nodded. He didn’t know why she singled him out.
“I can’t tell you how glad we are to see you with us.” She gave him a demure smile. “Maybe you aren’t aware, but you influence people.” Her eyes were serious and sincere. “The guys, they follow you. The girls, they like you. Your being a part of us will help convince others to join us.”
Her blunt compliment embarrassed him. “Nate’s doing a fine job convincing others without me.”
“Maybe so. It would still help a lot if we have the Ardley family’s support.”
His family’s support. Of course. He could never do anything without someone calculating what the Ardley family could bring to the table. Too bad she thought that too. He wasn’t about to commit his family to supporting anything. He came to the meeting because of Brandon, not for anything else. He gave her a polite but noncommittal smile.
She looked back at Nate and Brandon. “I know it sounds easy for me to say, but if I were a male student, I would enlist. As it is, this is all I can do.” She sounded almost disappointed. “I promised Brandon and Nate if they’re drafted, I will continue the CDA’s work here. You do see the importance of what we do, don’t you?”
He couldn’t honestly say he did, especially with Nate leading their cause. She spoke so earnestly, though, he didn’t want to contradict her outright. “You and Brandon are dedicated to a cause bigger than all of us. I admire that.”
His answer was enough to satisfy her. “Thanks again for coming. Please come again next time.” She smiled and walked away.
Yes. He might have no choice but to come again if he couldn’t convince Brandon to drop this. Immediately.
# # #
“Anthony. What do you think of this?” Brandon asked from his desk in their dorm room. He had been working on another article for The Daily Maroon all night.
On his bed with his textbook on his lap and his back against the wall, Anthony glanced at his clock. Eleven p.m.
Oblivious to the time, Brandon read from his draft without looking up. “America is and remains a beacon for freedom and democracy for the world. We cannot isolate ourselves as the world descends into chaos. We have a moral duty to stand up for our fundamental values and principles…”
“Too pompous. Since when did we become a beacon for the world?”
“Nate said we should open people’s eyes to America’s potential. We have the resources and ability to lead the world.”
Lead the world? He wasn’t even convinced America should go to war, let alone lead the world. Besides, what Professor Collins said earlier in the day was still fresh in his mind. War destroyed people. It had left lasting consequences on his own family already. Did Brandon have any true idea what it all entailed? “Brandon, if you tell people to fight for your values and principles, then you have to be ready to go to war and defend your values.”
“I’m ready,” Brandon said without hesitation. “We have to do what’s right and take a stand for our beliefs.”
Anthony closed his book. Their conversation was going nowhere. Lately, he and Brandon were out of sync on everything. “Do you understand what fighting a war means? It’s not a game. It’s real. People get hurt. People die. It changes people’s lives.” He thought of his Uncle Leon. “Sometimes people never get over it.”
“Of course things will change.” Brandon turned around from his desk. “But we can’t think about insignificant things like changes to our own lives now. We have a chance to do something much bigger and be a part of a new movement. We can bring changes to the whole world.”
Anthony wasn’t convinced. Brandon didn’t have an inkling of what it was like to lose a family member to war.
His quiet dissent went unnoticed as Brandon went on. “It’s like what Nate’s been saying.” That glow of inspiration shone on his face again. “We have to think bigger than ourselves.”
Even the mention of Nate’s name irritated Anthony. “You put a lot of stock lately in what Nate says.”
“Because everything he says is true. I wish more people would listen to him.”
Not wanting to argue, Anthony turned out the light on his nightstand. “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.” He pulled his cover over himself.
A moment later, he opened his eyes and stole a glance at Brandon, who had returned to his draft. Brandon used to be an independent thinker. He didn’t like the growing influence Nate Sanders had over him. Not at all.
Chapter 11
“I’m sorry, Uncle Leon. The AFC’s a good cause, but I have other priorities right now.” In Leon’s office, Anthony finally let it out. He had stalled his uncle for weeks, and had finally run out of excuses.
Leon’s disappointment was as great as he expected.
“What other priorities? Your classwork? Swimming? The AFC won’t get in your way of those. I’ll see to that. I’ll give you whatever support you need.”
“It’s not that. It’s Brandon.”
“What about him?”
“He’s not himself lately.”
Leon stared at him, puzzled.
“He and some students started a UC branch of the Committee to Defend America.”
“Committee to Defend America…What?!”
Anthony shrank in the chair. He had been dreading this moment.
“You’re telling me Brandon supports intervention? He’s working against me? Has he lost his mind?”
“He’s been brainwashed…”
“I’ll say!” Leon lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.
“There’s this guy, Nate Sanders. He’s a junior. He’s the ringleader. He has a hold over Brandon. It’s the way he speaks. He’s very persuasive.” He fiddled his fingers on his lap, trying to think of how not to aggravate his uncle any further. “Brandon listens to everything he says. I don’t like the influence Nate has over him. I want to try to get Brandon out. If I get involved with the AFC now, Brandon might not talk to me.”
“What can you do to get Brandon out?”
“I go to their CDA meetings.”
“You what?” Leon looked like he was ready to explode.
“To keep an eye on Brandon. That’s all. I swear.”
Leon swiveled his chair sideways and took another drag of his cigarette.
“I want to know what Brandon’s doing. I’m worried he might enli
st on impulse. If that happens, I want to be there to talk him out of it.”
“Everybody knows I’m an AFC supporter, and my own nephew goes to CDA meetings. How does that look?”
“I’m not there to support the CDA.” He tried to appease his uncle. “I won’t participate in their rallies. I won’t speak on their behalf. I won’t do anything to embarrass you. I just want to be there for him. If I had paid more attention last semester, maybe Brandon wouldn’t have gotten roped into the CDA to begin with.”
Leon didn’t answer. He stared at the old photo of Lex on his desk.
“He’s my best friend. I feel responsible. If Brandon enlists, what would Mr. and Mrs. Lowe do? He’s their only son.”
Turning his chair to face Anthony again, Leon asked, “That’s your decision then?”
Anthony nodded. He did feel bad about this.
Leon dropped his shoulders and rubbed his forehead between his brows. In that instant, he looked older than Anthony had ever seen him. His eyelids sagged and his hair seemed unusually dull. “I can’t fault you for being a good friend. Watch out for him then. Don’t let him make the same mistake Lex made.” His lips turned up in a sad smile. “At least I know you’re not thinking of enlisting.”
“Thanks, Uncle Leon.” He leaned back and relaxed, feeling he could breathe easy again. He didn’t tell Leon he was also relieved to not have to be a part of the AFC. In truth, he didn’t care for either the AFC or the CDA.
“You still want to work for me this summer?” Leon asked.
“I’m thinking about it. I want to see what I can learn elsewhere before I start to work for Father.”
“You can learn a lot from your father. He’s a brilliant businessman, and an honorable civic leader. The Ardley Group is yours to take when he steps down and you’re ready.”
“Sometimes I wonder if it should be that way.”
Leon looked at him, concerned.
“There’s got to be a better reason for me to take over his business than simply me being his son. What if I’m not the right person? What if there’s someone else more capable or deserving?”
Leon studied him with an amused smile. “You’re overthinking this. A father passing his work on to his son is the natural order of things.”
Still, Anthony wished there were another reason besides his birth. “I’d like to try working somewhere else first and see how I’d do. Besides, I might learn something I can bring into Father’s companies.”
“All right. Just let me know. My door’s always open.”
# # #
Arriving in American History class a week later, the students found Professor Leif McLaren, the head of the History Department, standing before them in the lecture hall instead of Garrett Collins.
“I regret to inform you Professor Collins will no longer be with us,” McLaren announced to the class. “He’s been summoned to service for the United States Army this morning and so cannot finish out this term. I will take his place as your instructor for the remainder of this semester.”
The students let out a collective moan.
“Don’t all get too excited now,” McLaren said in his forever-flat voice.
Next to him, Brandon whispered, “Good riddance.”
Anthony didn’t say anything. He liked Collins. Collins cared about the students, challenged them and made them think and learn. His departure was their loss.
“Serves him right. Now he has no choice but to fight for what’s right.” Brandon said. His tone of contempt upset Anthony. He wished Brandon wouldn’t detest Collins so much because of ideological differences. Collins was one of the best professors they could hope for as students.
As soon as class finished, he rushed to the faculty offices in the History Department, hoping to catch Collins before he took off for the next train back to Boston. In his office, Collins was taking down a painting from the wall.
“Professor Collins.”
“Anthony.” He seemed pleased Anthony had come.
“Professor, we just heard…Here, let me help you.” The large painting started to tip over and he went to give Collins a hand.
“Thanks.”
“We’ll all miss you.” He helped Collins set the painting on the floor.
Collins nodded. “I’m rejecting the summons.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m refusing service as a conscientious objector.”
“They’ll let you do that?”
“I’ll petition. My prospects are good. My antiwar views are well-known from my publications.”
“People will think you’re a coward. They’ll think you’re trying to escape the draft.”
“I’m not escaping anything. I won’t participate in any war. It’s against my principles.”
“You’ll be sent to a conscientious objectors’ camp.”
“It’s better than going to prison, and I won’t have to go to war against my conscience.”
“It’s almost like a prison. You won’t be free.”
“No. But if this war gets any worse, none of us will be free. There’s no freedom in the military. There’s no freedom in prison. There’s no freedom in the conscientious objectors’ camps. The only choice you’ll have is which prison you’d rather be in.”
How ironic, Anthony thought, considering that Brandon had been talking non-stop about America being a beacon of freedom.
“It’s not so bad. They’ll put me to work on national conservation projects and services. I’ll be doing something positive. It’ll be my way of contributing to society as the government demands.” Collins picked up the last stationery pad on his desk and put it into a box. “My conscience is clear.”
“Professor, is it true the government performs medical experiments on people at the conscientious objectors’ camps?”
Collins closed his box. “I don’t know. I’ve heard the rumors too. I suppose I’ll find out.” He scanned his office one more time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “I’ll miss this place.”
The empty office was a depressing sight.
“I hope you’ll do one thing for me,” Collins said.
“Anything, Professor.”
“You have a gift. People listen to you. Remind them often of what I said. War is an ugly business. It brings changes in ways people can’t begin to imagine, usually not for the good. There are always consequences. War never solves anything.”
Those were Collins’ parting words.
# # #
In less than three months time, the CDA chapter on campus had grown to more than three hundred members. The combination of Nate Sanders’ fiery speeches and Brandon’s newspaper articles had swayed people’s minds like a one-two punch. At rallies, Nate’s oratory skills provoked raw emotions. Through The Daily Maroon, Brandon made his case for intervention with sound, logical reasons. Their momentum surged.
The CDA’s rise was all the more remarkable in light of the dominance of the anti-intervention faction on campus and the rest of Chicago. The UC CDA Chapter rivaled the new UC AFC chapter, and the AFC chapter had the support and backing of some of Chicago’s most powerful men.
With the CDA’s rise, Nate became the face of those in support of intervention. When journals or publications needed alternative opinions to the isolationist groups, they sought him out before anyone else. As his influence grew, he attracted more and more people to their cause. Classroom meetings no longer sufficed. They now held outdoor rallies all over campus wherever there were crowds so they could spread their word. Nate Sanders was everywhere. People began to listen. They came to rallies to hear him speak, and he relished the limelight.
On his way to class, Anthony passed by Nate proselytizing again in front of the university chancellor’s building.
“We can help England win this war!” Nate roused the crowd from the podium. “We can set the stage for global democracy. Those who argue for non-intervention would turn a blind eye to the atrocities happening in Europe. They go about their busine
ss as usual. They don’t care that people are dying and suffering. They don’t care if Hitler takes over half the world.” He paused to let the crowd stew in their indignation. “But we care. We must defeat the isolationists and bring our glorious nation to its full potential.” A wave of cheers and applause followed.
Anthony walked on. Wasn’t defeating Hitler and Germany their real goal? If the CDA thought their mission was to defeat the isolationists, then they had lost their way.
If it weren’t for Brandon, he would quit the CDA. He kept hoping this was a phase. He held out hope that when it passed, things would return to the way they used to be.
Deep down, he knew it wasn’t so simple. Supporting intervention was all Brandon cared about anymore. Going to CDA meetings was the only way he could remain relevant in Brandon’s life.
But he came close to abandoning even that.
At tonight’s meeting, a student reporter writing a feature article about the pro-intervention movement for The Daily Maroon had joined them and she brought along a student photographer. Everyone had arrived, but the meeting couldn’t start because Nate was fussing about who should appear in the photo.
“I’ll stand in the front here, like I’m leading the meeting.” Nate pointed to the front of the classroom. The poor photographer dragged his equipment back and forth, trying to capture the angle Nate wanted. “If you can take the picture from this spot, then you can show the others in these seats…” He indicated four seats in the first two rows in front of him. “Tom,” he called out to Tom Heller, a freshman who everyone knew as the younger brother of the Chicago Cubs left fielder Brett Heller. “Yes. You’ll be good. Why don’t you sit right here.” He pointed to one of the two seats in the first row. “Charles, I’m sorry. Would you mind changing seats with Tom?” Charles, a shy freshman, obliged and Tom moved to his seat.
Far in the back of the classroom, Anthony glanced at his watch.
“Beth, Carol,” Nate said to two of the most attractive female students in the group. “Why don’t you two sit behind Tom?” Beth and Carol moved to the seats he pointed out.
