John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN A BANTAM PATHFINDER EDITION THE CONQUERORS AND THE CONQUERED COLONEL LANSER He was polite and controlled; but he would execute any Nazi order. For him duty came before right. LIEUTENANT TONDER He was a romantic who expected the enemy to love him and he longed for death on the battlefield. MAYOR ORDEN He was a simple man who believed in the fighting spirit of his townsmen. No sacrifice was too great for freedom. ANNIE The cook in the enemy’s headquarters. She was the bravest messenger for the resistance. JOHN STEINBECK, one of America’s greatest authors, devoted his life to writing. He was awarded both the Nobel and Pulitzer Prizes. Among his highly acclaimed novels are The Pearl and The Red Pony, both in Bantam Pathfinder Editions. 1 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN BANTAM PATHFINDER EDITIONS Bantam Pathfinder Editions provide the best in fiction and nonfiction In a wide variety of subject areas. They include novels by classic and contemporary writers; vivid, accurate histories and biographies; authoritative works in the sciences; collections of short stories, plays and poetry. Bantam Pathfinder Editions are carefully selected and approved. They are durably bound, printed on specially selected high-quality paper, and presented in a new and handsome format. 2 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN THE MOON IS DOWN BY JOHN STEINBECK BANTAM PATHFINDER EDITIONS NEW YORK / TORONTO / LONDON A NATIONAL GENERAL COMPANY 3 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN This low-priced Bantam Book has been completely reset in a type face designed for easy reading, and was printed from new plates. It contains the complete text of the original hard-cover edition. NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED. THE MOON IS DOWN A Bantam Book / published by arrangement with The Viking Press, Inc. PRINTING HISTORY Viking edition published March 1942 2nd printing .... March 1942 3rd printing .... March 1942 Book-of-the-Month Club edition published April 1942 Condensation published to READER’S DIGEST June 1942 Bantam edition published February 1964 2nd printing .... February 1964 3rd printing .... June 1964 4th printing ..... January 1965 5th printing ..... June 1965 Bantam Pathfinder edition published March 1966 7th printing ..... August 1966 8th printing ..... September 1966 9th printing ..... May 1967 10th printing ... August 1968 11th printing ... September 1968 12th printing ... October 1969 13th printing .... February 1970 14th printing 15th printing 16th printing All rights reserved. Copyright, 1942, John Steinbeck, This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information address: The Viking Press, Inc. 625 Madison Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10022. Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books Inc., a National General company. Its trade-mark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a bantam, is registered to the United States Patent Office and to other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, Inc., 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 4 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN THE MOON IS DOWN 5 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN To PAT COVICI A GREAT EDITOR AND A GREAT FRIEND 6 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Contents Contents......................................................................................................................7 CHAPTER I ...............................................................................................................8 CHAPTER II............................................................................................................20 CHAPTER III ..........................................................................................................33 CHAPTER IV ..........................................................................................................41 CHAPTER V............................................................................................................45 CHAPTER VI ..........................................................................................................53 CHAPTER VII .........................................................................................................65 CHAPTER VIII........................................................................................................76 About The Author ....................................................................................................83 7 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN CHAPTER I By ten-forty-five it was all over. The town was occupied, the defenders defeated, and the war finished. The invader had prepared for this campaign as carefully as he had for larger ones. On this Sunday morning the postman and the policeman had gone fishing in the boat of Mr. Corell, the popular storekeeper. He had lent them his trim sailboat for the day. The postman and the policeman were several miles at sea when they saw the small, dark transport, loaded with soldiers, go quietly past them. As officials of the town, this was definitely their business, and these two put about, but of course the battalion was in possession by the time they could make port. The policeman and the postman could not even get into their own offices in the Town Hall, and when they insisted on their rights they were taken prisoners of war and locked up in the town jail. The local troops, all twelve of them, had been away, too, on this Sunday morning, for Mr. Corell, the popular storekeeper, had donated lunch, targets, cartridges, and prizes for a shooting-competition to take place six miles back in the hills, in a lovely glade Mr. Corell owned. The local troops, big, loose-hung boys, heard the planes and in the distance saw the parachutes, and they came back to town at double-quick step. When they arrived, the invader had flanked the road with machine guns. The loose-hung soldiers, having very little experience in war and none at all in defeat, opened fire with their rifles. The machine guns clattered for a moment and six of the soldiers became dead riddled bundles and three halfdead riddled bundles, and three of the soldiers escaped into the hills with their rifles. By ten-thirty the brass band of the invader was playing beautiful and sentimental music in the town square while the townsmen, their mouths a little open and their eyes astonished, stood about listening to the music and staring at the gray-helmeted men who carried sub-machine guns in their arms. By ten-thirty-eight the riddled six were buried, the parachutes were folded, and the battalion was billeted in Mr. Corell’s warehouse by the pier, which had on its shelves blankets and cots for a battalion. By ten-forty-five old Mayor Orden had received the formal request that he grant an audience to Colonel Lanser of the invaders, an audience which was set for eleven sharp at the Mayor’s five-room palace. The drawing-room of the palace was very sweet and comfortable. The gilded chairs covered with their worn tapestry were set about stiffly like too many servants with nothing to do. An arched marble fireplace held its little basket of red 8 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN flameless heat, and a hand-painted coal scuttle stood on the hearth. On the mantel, flanked by fat vases, stood a large, curly porcelain clock which swarmed with tumbling cherubs. The wallpaper of the room was dark red with gold figures, and the woodwork was white, pretty, and clean. The paintings on the wall were largely preoccupied with the amazing heroism of large dogs faced with imperiled children. Nor water nor fire nor earthquake could do in a child so long as a big dog was available. Beside the fireplace old Doctor Winter sat, bearded and simple and benign, historian and physician to the town. He watched in amazement while his thumbs rolled over and over on his lap. Doctor Winter was a man so simple that only a profound man would know him as profound. He looked up at Joseph, the Mayor’s servingman, to see whether Joseph had observed the rolling wonders of his thumbs. “Eleven o’clock?” Doctor Winter asked. And Joseph answered abstractedly, “Yes, sir. The note said eleven.” “You read the note?” “No, sir, His Excellency read the note to me.” And Joseph went about testing each of the gilded chairs to see whether it had moved since he had last placed it. Joseph habitually scowled at furniture, expecting it to be impertinent, mischievous, or dusty. In a world where Mayor Orden was the leader of men, Joseph was the leader of furniture, silver, and dishes. Joseph was elderly and lean and serious, and his life was so complicated that only a profound man would know him to be simple. He saw nothing amazing about Doctor Winter’s rolling thumbs; in fact he found them irritating. Joseph suspected that something pretty important was happening, what with foreign soldiers in the town and the local army killed or captured. Sooner or later Joseph would have to get an opinion about it all. He wanted no levity, no rolling thumbs, no nonsense from furniture. Doctor Winter moved his chair a few inches from its appointed place and Joseph waited impatiently for the moment when he could put it back again. Doctor Winter repeated, “Eleven o’clock, and they’ll be here then, too. A timeminded people, Joseph.” And Joseph said, without listening, “Yes, sir.” “A time-minded people,” the doctor repeated. “Yes, sir,” said Joseph. “Time and machines.” “Yes, sir.” “They hurry toward their destiny as though it would not wait. They push the rolling world along with their shoulders.” And Joseph said, “Quite right, sir,” simply because he was getting tired of saying, “yes, sir.” 9 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Joseph did not approve of this line of conversation, since it did not help him to have an opinion about anything. If Joseph remarked to the cook later in the day, “A time-minded people, Annie,” it would not make any sense. Annie would ask, “Who?” and then “Why?” and finally say, “That’s nonsense, Joseph.” Joseph had tried carrying Doctor Winter’s remarks below-stairs before and it had always ended the same: Annie always discovered them to be nonsense. Doctor Winter looked up from his thumbs and watched Joseph disciplining the chairs. “What’s the Mayor doing?” “Dressing to receive the colonel, sir.” “And you aren’t helping him? He will be ill dressed by himself.” “Madame is helping him. Madame wants him to look his best. She”—Joseph blushed a little—“Madame is trimming the hair out of his ears, sir. It tickles. He won’t let me do it.” “Of course it tickles,” said Doctor Winter. “Madame insists,” said Joseph. Doctor Winter laughed suddenly. He stood up and held his hands to the fire and Joseph skillfully darted behind him and replaced the chair where it should be. “We are so wonderful,” the doctor said. “Our country is falling, our town is conquered, the Mayor is about to receive the conqueror, and Madame is holding the struggling Mayor by the neck and trimming the hair out of his ears.” “He was getting very shaggy,” said Joseph. “His eyebrows, too. His Excellency is even more upset about having his eyebrows trimmed than his ears. He says it hurts. I doubt if even Madame can do it.” “She will try,” Doctor Winter said. “She wants him to look his best, sir.” Through the glass window of the entrance door a helmeted face looked in and there was a rapping on the door. It seemed that some warm light went out of the room and a little grayness took its place. Doctor Winter looked up at the clock and said, “They are early. Let them in, Joseph.” Joseph went to the door and opened it. A soldier stepped in, dressed in a long coat. He was helmeted and he carried a sub-machine gun over his arm. He glanced quickly about and then stepped aside. Behind him an officer stood in the doorway. The officer’s uniform was common and it had rank showing only on the shoulders. The officer stepped inside and looked at Doctor Winter. He was rather like an overdrawn picture of an English gentleman. He had a slouch, his face was red, his nose long but rather pleasing; he seemed about as unhappy in his uniform as most British general officers are. He stood in the doorway, staring at Doctor Winter, and he said, “Are you Mayor Orden, sir?” Doctor Winter smiled. “No, no, I am not.” 10 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN “You are an official, then?” “No, I am the town doctor and I am a friend of the Mayor.” The officer said, “Where is Mayor Orden?” “Dressing to receive you. You are the colonel?” “No, I am not. I am Captain Bentick.” He bowed and Doctor Winter returned the bow slightly. Captain Bentick continued, as though a little embarrassed at what he had to say. “Our military regulations, sir, prescribe that we search for weapons before the commanding officer enters a room. We mean no disrespect, sir.” And he called over his shoulder, “Sergeant!” The sergeant moved quickly to Joseph, ran his hands over his pockets, and said, “Nothing, sir.” Captain Bentick said to Doctor Winter, “I hope you will pardon us.” And the sergeant went to Doctor Winter and patted his pockets. His hands stopped at the inside coat pocket. He reached quickly in, brought out a little, flat, black leather case, and took it to Captain Bentick. Captain Bentick opened the case and found there a few simple surgical instruments—two scalpels, some surgical needles, some clamps, a hypodermic needle. He closed the case again and handed it back to Doctor Winter. Doctor Winter said, “you see, I am a country doctor. One time I had to perform an appendectomy with a kitchen knife. I have always carried these with me since then.” Captain Bentick said, “I believe there are some firearms here?” He opened a little leather book that he carried in his pocket. Doctor Winter said, “You are thorough.” “Yes, our local man has been working here for some time.” Doctor Winter said, “I don’t suppose you would tell who that man is?” Bentick said, “His work is all done now. I don’t suppose there would be any harm in telling. His name is Corell.” And Doctor Winter said in astonishment, “George Corell? Why, that seems impossible! He’s done a lot for this town. Why, he even gave prizes for the shooting-match in the hills this morning.” And as he said it his eyes began to understand what had happened and his mouth closed slowly, and he said, “I see; that is why he gave the shooting-match. Yes, I see. But George Corell—that sounds impossible!” The door to the left opened and Mayor Orden came in; he was digging in his right ear with his little finger. He was dressed in his official morning coat, with his chain of office about his neck. He had a large, white, spraying mustache and two smaller ones, one over each eye. His white hair was so recently brushed that only now were the hairs struggling to be free, to stand up again. He had been Mayor so long that he was the Idea-Mayor in the town. Even grown people when they saw 11 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN the word “mayor,” printed or written, saw Mayor Orden in their minds. He and his office were one. It had given him dignity and he had given it warmth. From behind him Madame emerged, small and wrinkled and fierce. She considered that she had created this man out of whole cloth, had thought him up, and she was sure that she could do a better job if she had it to do again. Only once or twice in her life had she ever understood all of him, but the part of him which she knew, she knew intricately and well. No little appetite or pain, no carelessness or meanness in him escaped her; no thought or dream or longing in him ever reached her. And yet several times in her life she had seen the stars. She stepped around the Mayor and she took his hand and pulled his finger out of his outraged ear and pushed his hand to his side, the way she would take a baby’s thumb away from his mouth. “I don’t believe for a moment it hurts as much as you say,” she said, and to Doctor Winter, “He won’t let me fix his eyebrows.” “It hurts,” said Mayor Orden. “Very well, if you want to look like that there is nothing I can do about it.” She straightened his already straight tie. “I’m glad you’re here, Doctor,” she said. “How many do you think will come?” And then she looked up and saw Captain Bentick. “Oh,” she said, “the colonel!” Captain Bentick said, “No, ma’am, I’m only preparing for the colonel. Sergeant!” The sergeant, who had been turning over pillows, looking behind pictures, came quickly to Mayor Orden and ran his hands over his pockets. Captain Bentick said, “Excuse him, sir, it’s regulations.” He glanced again at the little book in his hand. “Your Excellency, I think you have firearms here. Two items, I believe?” Mayor Orden said, “Firearms? Guns, you mean, I guess. Yes, I have a shotgun and a sporting-rifle.” He said deprecatingly, “You know, I don’t hunt very much any more. I always think I’m going to, and then the season opens and I don’t get out. I don’t take the pleasure in it I used to.” Captain Bentick insisted. “Where are these guns, Your Excellency?” The Mayor rubbed his cheek and tried to think. “Why, I think—” He turned to Madame. “Weren’t they in the back of that cabinet in the bedroom with the walking sticks?” Madame said, “Yes, and every stitch of clothing in that cabinet smells of oil. I wish you’d put them somewhere else.” Captain Bentick said, “Sergeant!” and the sergeant went quickly into the bedroom. “It’s an unpleasant duty. I’m sorry,” said the captain. 12 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN The sergeant came back, carrying a double-barreled shotgun and a rather nice sporting-rifle with a shoulder strap. He leaned them against the side of the entrance door. Captain Bentick said, “That’s all, thank you, Your Excellency. Thank you, Madame.” He turned and bowed slightly to Doctor Winter. “Thank you, Doctor. Colonel Lanser will be here directly. Good morning!” And he went out of the front door, followed by the sergeant with the two guns in one hand and the submachine gun over his right arm. Madame said, “For a moment I thought he was the colonel. He was a rather nice-looking young man.” Doctor Winter said sardonically, “No, he was just protecting the colonel.” Madame was thinking, “I wonder how many officers will come?” And she looked at Joseph and saw that he was shamelessly eavesdropping. She shook her head at him and frowned and he went back to the little things he had been doing. He began dusting all over again. And Madame said, “How many do you think will come?” Doctor Winter pulled out a chair outrageously and sat down again. “I don’t know,” he said. “Well”—she frowned at Joseph—“we’ve been talking it over. Should we offer them tea or a glass of wine? If we do, I don’t know how many there will be, and if we don’t, what are we to do?” Doctor Winter shook his head and smiled. “I don’t know. It’s been so long since we conquered anybody or anybody conquered us. I don’t know what is proper.” Mayor Orden had his finger back in his itching ear. He said, “Well, I don’t think we should. I don’t think the people would like it. I don’t want to drink wine with them. I don’t know why.” Madame appealed to the doctor then. “Didn’t people in the old days—the leaders, that is—compliment each other and take a glass of wine?” Doctor Winter nodded. “Yes, indeed they did.” He shook his head slowly. “Maybe that was different. Kings and princes played at war the way Englishmen play at hunting. When the fox was dead they gathered at a hunt breakfast. But Mayor Orden is probably right: the people might not like him to drink wine with the invader.” Madame said, “The people are down listening to the music. Annie told me. If they can do that, why shouldn’t we keep civilized procedure alive?” The Mayor looked steadily at her for a moment and his voice was sharp. “Madame, I think with your permission we will not have wine. The people are confused now. They have lived at peace so long that they do not quite believe in war. They will learn and then they will not be confused any more. They elected me 13 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN not to be confused. Six town boys were murdered this morning. I think we will have no hunt breakfast. The people do not fight wars for sport.” Madame bowed slightly. There had been a number of times in her life when her husband had become the Mayor. She had learned not to confuse the Mayor with her husband. Mayor Orden looked at his watch and when Joseph came in, carrying a small cup of black coffee, he took it absent-mindedly. “Thank you,” he said, and he sipped it. “I should be clear,” he said apologetically to Doctor Winter. “I should be—do you know how many men the invader has?” “Not many,” the doctor said. “I don’t think over two hundred and fifty; but all with those little machine guns.” The Mayor sipped his coffee again and made a new start. “What about the rest of the country?” The doctor raised his shoulders and dropped them again. “Was there no resistance anywhere?” the Mayor went on hopelessly. And again the doctor raised his shoulders. “I don’t know. The wires are cut or captured There is no news.” “And our boys, our soldiers?” “I don’t know,” said the doctor. Joseph interrupted “I heard—that is, Annie heard—” “What, Joseph?” “Six men were killed, sir, by the machine guns. Annie heard three were wounded and captured.” “But there were twelve.” “Annie heard that three escaped.” The Mayor turned sharply. “Which ones escaped?” he demanded. “I don’t know, sir. Annie didn’t hear.” Madame inspected a table for dust with her finger. She said, “Joseph, when they come, stay close to your bell. We might want some little thing. And put on your other coat, Joseph, the one with the buttons.” She thought for a moment. “And, Joseph, when you finish what you are told to do, go out of the room. It makes a bad impression when you just stand around listening. It’s provincial, that’s what it is.” “Yes, Madame,” Joseph said. “We won’t serve wine, Joseph, but you might have some cigarettes handy in that little silver conserve box And don’t strike the match to light the colonel’s cigarette on your shoe. Strike it on the match-box.” “Yes, Madame.” Mayor Orden unbuttoned his coat and took out his watch and looked at it and put it back and buttoned his coat again, one button too high. Madame went to him and rebuttoned it correctly. 14 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Doctor Winter asked, “What time is it?” “Five of eleven.” “A time-minded people,” the doctor said. “They will be here on time. Do you want me to go away?” Mayor Orden looked startled. “Go? No—no, stay.” He laughed softly. “I’m a little afraid,” he said apologetically. “Well, not afraid, but I’m nervous.” And he said helplessly, “We have never been conquered, for a long time—” He stopped to listen. In the distance there was a sound of band music, a march. They all turned in its direction and listened. Madame said, “Here they come. I hope not too many try to crowd in here at once. It isn’t a very big room.” Doctor Winter said sardonically, “Madame would prefer the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles?” She pinched her lips and looked about, already placing the conquerors with her mind. “It is a very small room,” she said. The band music swelled a little and then grew fainter. There came a gentle tap on the door. “Now, who can that be? Joseph, if it is anyone, tell him to come back later. We are very busy.” The tap came again. Joseph went to the door and opened it a crack and then a little wider. A gray figure, helmeted and gauntleted, appeared “Colonel Lanser s compliments,” the head said “Colonel Lanser requests an audience with Your Excellency.” Joseph opened the door wide. The helmeted orderly stepped inside and looked quickly about the room and then stood aside. “Colonel Lanser!” he announced. A second helmeted figure walked into the room, and his rank showed only on his shoulders. Behind him came a rather short man in a black business suit. The colonel was a middle-aged man, gray and hard and tired-looking. He had the square shoulders of a soldier, but his eyes lacked the blank look of the ordinary soldier. The little man beside him was bold and rosy-cheeked, with small black eyes and a sensual mouth. Colonel Lanser took off his helmet. With a quick bow, he said, “Your Excellency!” He bowed to Madame. “Madame!” And he said, “Close the door, please, Corporal.” Joseph quickly shut the door and stared in small triumph at the soldier. Lanser looked questioningly at the doctor, and Mayor Orden said, “This is Doctor Winter.” “An official?” the colonel asked. “A doctor, sir, and, I might say, the local historian.” 15 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Lanser bowed slightly. He said, “Doctor Winter, I do not mean to be impertinent, but there will be a page in your history, perhaps—” And Doctor Winter smiled. “Many pages, perhaps.” Colonel Lanser turned slightly toward his companion. “I think you know Mr. Corell,” he said. The Mayor said, “George Corell? Of course I know him. How are you, George?” Doctor Winter cut in sharply. He said, very formally, “Your Excellency, our friend, George Corell, prepared this town for the invasion. Our benefactor, George Corell, sent our soldiers into the hills. Our dinner guest, George Corell, has made a list of every firearm in the town. Our friend, George Corell!” Corell said angrily, “I work for what I believe in! That is an honorable thing.” Orden’s mouth hung a little open. He was bewildered. He looked helplessly from Winter to Corell. “This isn’t true,” he said “George, this isn’t true! You have sat at my table, you have drunk port with me. Why, you helped me plan the hospital! This isn’t true!” He was looking very steadily at Corell and Corell looked belligerently back at him. There was a long silence. Then the Mayor’s face grew slowly tight and very formal and his whole body was rigid. He turned to Colonel Lanser and he said, “I do not wish to speak in this gentleman’s company.” Corell said, “I have a right to be here! I am a soldier like the rest. I simply do not wear a uniform.” The Mayor repeated, “I do not wish to speak in this gentleman’s presence.” Colonel Lanser said, “Will you leave us now, Mr. Corell?” And Corell said, “I have a right to be here!” Lanser repeated sharply, “Will you leave us now, Mr. Corell? Do you outrank me?” “Well, no, sir.” “Please go, Mr. Corell,” said Colonel Lanser. And Corell looked at the Mayor angrily, and then he turned and went quickly out of the doorway. Doctor Winter chuckled and said, “That’s good enough for a paragraph in my history.” Colonel Lanser glanced sharply at him but he did not speak. Now the door on the right opened, and straw-haired, red-eyed Annie put an angry face into the doorway. “There’s soldiers on the back porch, Madame,” she said. “Just standing there.” “They won’t come in,” Colonel Lanser said. “It’s only military procedure.” Madame said icily, “Annie, if you have anything to say, let Joseph bring the message.” “I didn’t know but they’d try to get in,” Annie said. “They smelled the coffee.” 16 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN “Annie!” “Yes, Madame,” and she withdrew. The colonel said, “May I sit down?” And he explained, “We have been a long time without sleep.” The Mayor seemed to start out of sleep himself. “yes,” he said, “of course, sit down!” The colonel looked at Madame and she seated herself and he settled tiredly into a chair. Mayor Orden stood, still half dreaming. The colonel began, “We want to get along as well as we can. You see, sir, this is more like a business venture than anything else. We need the coal mine here and the fishing. We will try to get along with just as little friction as possible.” The Mayor said, “I have had no news. What about the rest of the country?” “All taken,” said the colonel. “It was well planned.” “Was there no resistance anywhere?” The colonel looked at him compassionately. “I wish there had not been. Yes, there was some resistance, but it only caused bloodshed. We had planned very carefully.” Orden stuck to his point. “But there was resistance?” “Yes, but it was foolish to resist. Just as here, it was destroyed instantly. It was sad and foolish to resist.” Doctor Winter caught some of the Mayor’s anxiousness about the point. “Yes,” he said, “foolish, but they resisted?” And Colonel Lanser replied, “Only a few and they are gone. The people as a whole are quiet.” Doctor Winter said, “The people don’t know yet what has happened.” “They are discovering,” said Lanser. “They won’t be foolish again.” He cleared his throat and his voice became brisk. “Now, sir, I must get to business. I’m really very tired, but before I can sleep I must make my arrangements.” He sat forward in his chair. “I am more engineer than soldier. This whole thing is more an engineering job than conquest. The coal must come out of the ground and be shipped. We have technicians, but the local people will continue to work the mine. Is that clear? We do not wish to be harsh.” And Orden said, “Yes, that’s clear enough. But suppose the people do not want to work the mine?” The colonel said, “I hope they will want to, because they must. We must have the coal.” “But if they don’t?” “They must. They are an orderly people. They don’t want trouble.” He waited for the Mayor’s reply and none came. “Is that not so, sir?” the colonel asked. 17 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Mayor Orden twisted his chain. “I don’t know, sir. They are orderly under their own government. I don’t know how they would be under yours. It is untouched ground, you see. We have built our government over four hundred years.” The colonel said quickly, “We know that, and so we are going to keep your government. You will still be the Mayor, you will give the orders, you will penalize and reward. In that way, they will not give trouble.” Mayor Orden looked at Doctor Winter. “What are you thinking about?” “I don’t know,” said Doctor Winter. “It would be interesting to see. I’d expect trouble. This might be a bitter people.” Mayor Orden said, “I don’t know, either.” He turned to the colonel. “Sir, I am of this people, and yet I don’t know what they will do. Perhaps you know. Some people accept appointed leaders and obey them. But my people have elected me. They made me and they can unmake me. Perhaps they will if they think I have gone over to you. I just don’t know.” The colonel said, “You will be doing them a service if you keep them in order.” “A service?” “Yes, a service. It is your duty to protect them from harm. They will be in danger if they are rebellious. We must get the coal, you see. Our leaders do not tell us how; they order us to get it. But you have your people to protect. You must make them do the work and thus keep them safe.” Mayor Orden asked, “But suppose they don’t want to be safe?” “Then you must think for them.” Orden said, a little proudly, “My people don’t like to have others think for them. Maybe they are different from your people. I am confused, but that I am sure of.” Now Joseph came in quickly and he stood leaning forward, bursting to speak. Madame said, “What is it, Joseph? Get the silver box of cigarettes.” “Pardon, Madame,” said Joseph. “Pardon, Your Excellency.” “What do you want?” the Mayor asked. “It’s Annie,” he said. “She’s getting angry, sir.” “What is the matter?” Madame demanded. “Annie doesn’t like the soldiers on the back porch.” The colonel asked, “Are they causing trouble?” “They are looking through the door at Annie,” said Joseph. “She hates that.” The colonel said, “They are carrying out orders. They are doing no harm.” “Well, Annie hates to be stared at,” said Joseph. Madame said, “Joseph, tell Annie to take care.” “Yes, Madame,” and Joseph went out. The colonel’s eyes dropped with tiredness. “There’s another thing, Your Excellency,” he said. “Would it be possible for me and my staff to stay here?” 18 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Mayor Orden thought a moment and he said, “It’s a small place. There are larger, more comfortable places.” Then Joseph came back with the silver box of cigarettes and he opened it and held it in front of the colonel. When the colonel took one, Joseph ostentatiously lighted it. The colonel puffed deeply. “It isn’t that,” he said “We have found that when a staff lives under the roof of the local authority, there is more tranquility.” “You mean,” said Orden, “the people feel there is collaboration involved?” “Yes, I suppose that is it.” Mayor Orden looked hopelessly at Doctor Winter, and Winter could offer him nothing but a wry smile. Orden said softly, “Am I permitted to refuse this honor?” “I’m sorry,” the colonel said “No. These are the orders of my leader.” “The people will not like it,” Orden said. “Always the people! The people are disarmed. The people have no say.” Mayor Orden shook his head. “You do not know, sir.” From the doorway came the sound of an angry woman’s voice, and a thump and a man’s cry. Joseph came scuttling through the door. “She’s thrown boiling water,” Joseph said. “She’s very angry.” There were commands through the door and the clump of feet. Colonel Lanser got up heavily. “Have you no control over your servants, sir?” he asked. Mayor Orden smiled. “Very little,” he said. “She’s a good cook when she is happy. Was anyone hurt?” he asked Joseph. “The water was boiling, sir.” 19 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN CHAPTER II Upstairs in the little palace of the Mayor the staff of Colonel Lanser made its headquarters. There were five of them besides the colonel. There was Major Hunter, a haunted little man of figures, a little man who, being a dependable unit, considered all other men either as dependable units or as unfit to live. Major Hunter was an engineer, and except in case of war no one would have thought of giving him command of men. For Major Hunter set his men in rows like figures and he added and subtracted and multiplied them. He was an arithmetician rather than a mathematician. None of the humor, the music, or the mysticism of higher mathematics ever entered his head. Men might vary in height or weight or color, just as 6 is different from 8, but there was little other difference. He had been married several times and he did not know why his wives became very nervous before they left him. Captain Bentick was a family man, a lover of dogs and pink children and Christmas. He was too old to be a captain, but a curious lack of ambition had kept him in that rank. Before the war he had admired the British country gentleman very much, wore English clothes, kept English dogs, smoked in an English pipe a special pipe mixture sent him from London, and subscribed to those country magazines which extol gardening and continually argue about the relative merits of English and Gordon setters. Captain Bentick spent all his holidays in Sussex and liked to be mistaken for an Englishman in Budapest or Paris. The war changed all that outwardly, but he had sucked on a pipe too long, had carried a stick too long, to give them up too suddenly. Once, five years before, he had written a letter to the Times about grass dying in the Midlands and had signed it Edmund Twitchell, Esq.; and, furthermore, the Times had printed it. If Captain Bentick was too old to be a captain, Captain Loft was too young. Captain Loft was as much a captain as one can imagine. He lived and breathed his captaincy. He had no unmilitary moments. A driving ambition forced him up through the grades. He rose like cream to the top of milk. He clicked his heels as perfectly as a dancer does. He knew every kind of military courtesy and insisted on using it all. Generals were afraid of him because he knew more about the deportment of a soldier than they did. Captain Loft thought and believed that a soldier is the highest development of animal life. If he considered God at all, he thought of Him as an old and honored general, retired and gray, living among remembered battles and putting wreaths on the graves of his lieutenants several times a year. Captain Loft believed that all women fall in love with a uniform and he did not see how it could be otherwise. In the normal course of events he would 20 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN be a brigadier-general at forty-five and have his picture in the illustrated papers, flanked by tall, pale, masculine women wearing lacy picture hats. Lieutenants Prackle and Tonder were snot-noses, undergraduates, lieutenants, trained in the politics of the day, believing the great new system invented by a genius so great that they never bothered to verify its results. They were sentimental young men, given to tears and to furies. Lieutenant Prackle carried a lock of hair in the back of his watch, wrapped in a bit of blue satin, and the hair was constantly getting loose and clogging the balance wheel, so that he wore a wrist watch for telling time. Prackle was a dancing-partner, a gay young man who nevertheless could scowl like the Leader, could brood like the Leader. He hated degenerate art and had destroyed several canvases with his own hands. In cabarets he sometimes made pencil sketches of his companions which were so good that he had often been told he should have been an artist. Prackle had several blond sisters of whom he was so proud that he had on occasion caused a commotion when he thought they had been insulted. The sisters were a little disturbed about it because they were afraid someone might set out to prove the insults, which would not have been hard to do. Lieutenant Prackle spent nearly all his time off duty daydreaming of seducing Lieutenant Tonder’s blond sister, a buxom girl who loved to be seduced by older men who did not muss her hair as Lieutenant Prackle did. Lieutenant Tonder was a poet, a bitter poet who dreamed of perfect, ideal love of elevated young men for poor girls. Tonder was a dark romantic with a vision as wide as his experience. He sometimes spoke blank verse under his breath to imaginary dark women. He longed for death on the battlefield, with weeping parents in the background, and the Leader, brave but sad in the presence of the dying youth. He imagined his death very often, lighted by a fair setting sun which glinted on broken military equipment, his men standing silently around him, with heads sunk low, as over a fat cloud galloped the Valkyries, big-breasted, mothers and mistresses in one, while Wagnerian thunder crashed in the background. And he even had his dying words ready. These were the men of the staff, each one playing war as children play “Run, Sheep, Run.” Major Hunter thought of war as an arithmetical job to be done so he could get back to his fireplace; Captain Loft as the proper career of a properly brought-up young man; and Lieutenants Prackle and Tonder as a dreamlike thing in which nothing was very real. And their war so far had been play—fine weapons and fine planning against unarmed, planless enemies. They had lost no fights and suffered little hurt. They were, under pressure, capable of cowardice or courage, as everyone is. Of them all, only Colonel Lanser knew what war really is in the long run. Lanser had been in Belgium and France twenty years before and he tried not to think what he knew—that war, is treachery and hatred, the muddling of 21 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN incompetent generals, the torture and killing and sickness and tiredness, until at last it is over and nothing has changed except for new weariness and new hatreds. Lanser told himself he was a soldier, given . orders to carry out. He was not expected to question or to think, but only to carry out orders; and he tried to put aside the sick memories of the other war and the certainty that this would be the same. This one will be different, he said to himself fifty times a day; this one will be very different. In marching, in mobs, in football games, and in war, outlines become vague; real things become unreal and a fog creeps over the mind. Tension and excitement, weariness, movement—all merge in one great gray dream, so that when it is over, it is hard to remember how it was when you killed men or ordered them to be killed. Then other people who were not there tell you what it was like and you say vaguely, “Yes, I guess that’s how it was.” This staff had taken three rooms on the upper floor of the Mayor’s palace. In the bedrooms they had put their cots and blankets and equipment, and in the room next to them and directly over the little drawing-room on the ground floor they had made a kind of club, rather an uncomfortable club. There were a few chairs and a table. Here they wrote letters and read letters. They talked and ordered coffee and planned and tested. On the walls between the windows there were pictures of cows and lakes and little farmhouses, and from the windows they could look down over the town to the waterfront, to the docks where the shipping was tied up, to the docks where the coal barges pulled up and took their loads and went out to sea. They could look down over the little town that twisted past the square to the waterfront, and they could see the fishing-boats lying at anchor in the bay, the sails furled, and they could smell the drying fish on the beach, right through the window. There was a large table in the center of the room and Major Hunter sat beside it. He had his drawing-board in his lap and resting on the table, and with a T-square and triangle he worked at a design for a new railroad siding. The drawing-board was unsteady and the major was growing angry with its unsteadiness. He called over his shoulder, “Prackle!” And then, “Lieutenant Prackle!” The bedroom door opened and the lieutenant came out, half his face covered with shaving-cream. He held the brush in his hand. “Yes?” he said. Major Hunter jiggled his drawing-board. “Hasn’t that tripod for my board turned up in the baggage?” “I don’t know, sir,” said Prackle. “I didn’t look.” “Well, look now, will you? It’s bad enough to have to work in this light. I’ll have to draw this again before I ink it.” Prackle said, “Just as soon as I finish shaving, I’ll look.” 22 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Hunter said irritably, “This siding is more important than your looks. See if there is a canvas case like a golf bag under that pile in there.” Prackle disappeared into the bedroom. The door to the right opened and Captain Loft came in. He wore his helmet, a pair of field glasses, sidearm, and various little leather cases strung all over him. He began to remove his equipment as soon as he entered. “You know, that Bentick’s crazy,” he said. “He was going out on duty in a fatigue cap, right down the street.” Loft put his field glasses on the table and took off his helmet, then his gas-mask bag. A little pile of equipment began to heap up on the table. Hunter said, “Don’t leave that stuff there. I have to work here. Why shouldn’t he wear a cap? There hasn’t been any trouble. I get sick of these tin things. They’re heavy and you can’t see.” Loft said primly, “It’s bad practice to leave it off. It’s bad for the people here. We must maintain a military standard, an alertness, and never vary it. We’ll just invite trouble if we don’t.” “What makes you think so?” Hunter asked Loft drew himself up a little. His mouth thinned with certainty. Sooner or later everyone wanted to punch Loft in the nose for his sureness about things. He said, “I don’t think it. I was paraphrasing Manual X-12 on deportment in occupied countries. It is very carefully worked out.” He began to say, “You—” and then changed it to, “Everybody should read X-12 very closely.” Hunter said, “I wonder whether the man who wrote it was ever in occupied country. These people are harmless enough. They seem to be good, obedient people.” Prackle came through the door, his face still half covered with shaving-soap. He carried a brown canvas tube, and behind him came Lieutenant Tonder. “Is this it?” Prackle asked. “Yes. Unpack it, will you, and set it up.” Prackle and Tonder went to work on the folding tripod and tested it and put it near Hunter. The major screwed his board to it, tilted it right and left, and finally settled gruntingly behind it. Captain Loft said, “Do you know you have soap on your face, Lieutenant?” “Yes, sir,” Prackle said “I was shaving when the major asked me to get the tripod.” “Well, you had better get it off,” Loft said. “The colonel might see you.” “Oh, he wouldn’t mind. He doesn’t care about things like that.” Tonder was looking over Hunter’s shoulder as he worked. Loft said, “Well, he may not, but it doesn’t look right.” 23 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Prackle took a handkerchief and rubbed the soap from his cheek. Tonder pointed to a little drawing on the corner of the major’s board. “That’s a nice-looking bridge, Major. But where in the world are we going to build a bridge?” Hunter looked down at the drawing and then over his shoulder at Tonder. “Huh? Oh, that isn’t any bridge we’re going to build. Up here is the work drawing?” “What are you doing with a bridge, then?” Hunter seemed a little embarrassed. “Well, you know, in my back yard at home I’ve got a model railroad line. I was going to bridge a little creek for it. Brought the line right down to the creek, but I never did get the bridge built. I thought I’d kind of work it out while I was away.” Lieutenant Prackle took from his pocket a folded rotogravure page and he unfolded it and held it up and looked at it. It was a picture of a girl, all legs and dress and eyelashes, a well-developed blonde in black openwork stockings and a low bodice, and this particular blonde peeped over a black lace fan. Lieutenant Prackle held her up and he said, “Isn’t she something? Lieutenant Tonder looked critically at the picture and said, “I don’t like her.” “What don’t you like about her?” “I just don’t like her,” said Tonder. “What do you want her picture for?” Prackle said, “Because I do like her and I bet you do, too.” “I do not,” said Tonder. “You mean to say you wouldn’t take a date with her if you could?” Prackle asked. Tonder said, “No.” “Well, you’re just crazy,” and Prackle went to one of the curtains. He said, “I’m just going to stick her up here and let you brood about her for a while.” He pinned the picture to the curtain. Captain Loft was gathering his equipment into his arms now, and he said, “I don’t think it looks very well out here, Lieutenant. You’d better take it down. It wouldn’t make a good impression on the local people.” Hunter looked up from his board. “What wouldn’t?” He followed their eyes to the picture. “Who’s that?” he asked. “She’s an actress,” said Prackle. Hunter looked at her carefully. “Oh, do you know her?” Tonder said, “She’s a tramp.” Hunter said, “Oh, then you know her?” Prackle was looking steadily at Tonder. He said, “Say, how do you know she’s a tramp?” “She looks like a tramp,” said Tonder. “Do you know her?” “No, and I don’t want to.” 24 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Prackle began to say, “Then how do you know? when Loft broke in. He said, “You’d better take the picture down. Put it up over your bed if you want to. This room’s kind of official here.” Prackle looked at him mutinously and was about to speak when Captain Loft said, “That’s an order, Lieutenant,” and poor Prackle folded his paper and put it into his pocket again. He tried cheerily to change the subject. “There are some pretty girls in this town, all right,” he said. “As soon as we get settled down and everything going smoothly, I’m going to get acquainted with a few.” Loft said, “You’d better read X-12. There’s a section dealing with sexual matters.” And he went out, carrying his duffel, glasses, and equipment. Lieutenant Tonder, still looking over Hunter’s shoulder, said, “That’s clever—the coal cars come right through the mines to the ship.” Hunter came slowly out of his work and he said, “We have to speed it up; we’ve got to get that coal moving. It’s a big job. I’m awful thankful that the people here are calm and sensible.” Loft came back into the room without his equipment. He stood by the window, looking out toward the harbor, toward the coal mine, and he said, “They are calm and sensible because we are calm and sensible. I think we can take credit for that. That’s why I keep harping on procedure. It is very carefully worked out.” The door opened and Colonel Lanser came in, removing his coat as he entered. His staff gave him military courtesy—not very rigid, but enough. Lanser said, “Captain Loft, will you go down and relieve Bentick? He isn’t feeling well, says he’s dizzy.” “Yes, sir,” said Loft. “May I suggest, sir, that I only recently came off duty?” Lanser inspected him closely. “I hope you don’t mind going, Captain.” “Not at all, sir; I just mention it for the record.” Lanser relaxed and chuckled. “You like to be mentioned in the reports, don’t you?” “It does no harm, sir.” “And when you have enough mentions,” Lanser went on, “there will be a little dangler on your chest.” “They are the milestones in a military career, sir.” Lanser sighed. “Yes, I guess they are. But they won’t be the ones you’ll remember, Captain.” “Sir?” Loft asked. “You’ll know what I mean later—perhaps.” Captain Loft put his equipment on rapidly. “Yes, sir,” he said, and went out and his footsteps clattered down the wooden stairs, and Lanser watched him go with a little amusement. He said quietly, “There goes a born soldier.” And Hunter looked up and poised his pencil and he said, “A born ass.” 25 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN “No,” said Lanser, “he’s being a soldier the way a lot of men would be politicians. He’ll be on the General Staff before long. He’ll look down on war from above and so he’ll always love it.” Lieutenant Prackle said, “When do you think the war will be over, sir?” “Over? Over? What do you mean?” Lieutenant Prackle continued, “How soon will we win?” Lanser shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. The enemy is still in the world.” “But we will lick them,” said Prackle. Lanser said, “Yes?” “Won’t we?” “Yes; yes, we always do.” Prackle said excitedly, “Well, if it’s quiet around Christmas, do you think there will be some furloughs granted?” “I don’t know,” said Lanser. “Such orders will have to come from home. Do you want to get home for Christmas?” “Well, I’d kind of like to.” “Maybe you will,” said Lanser, “maybe you will.” Lieutenant Tonder said, “We won’t drop out of this occupation, will we, sir, after the war is over?” “I don’t know,” said the colonel. “Why?” “Well,” said Tonder, “it’s a nice country, nice people. Our men—some of them—might even settle here.” Lanser said jokingly, “You’ve seen some place you like, perhaps?” “Well,” said Tonder, “there are some beautiful farms here. If four or five of them were thrown together, it would be a nice place to settle, I think.” “You have no family land, then?” Lanser asked. “No, sir, not any more. Inflation took it away.” Lanser was tired now of talking to children. He said, “Ah, well, we still have a war to fight. We still have coal to take out. Do you suppose we can wait until it is over before we build up these estates? Such orders will come from above. Captain Loft can tell you that.” His manner changed. He said, “Hunter, your steel will be in tomorrow. You can get your tracks started this week.” There was a knock at the door and a sentry put his head in. He said, “Mr. Corell wishes to see you, sir.” “Send him in,” said the colonel. And he said to the others, “This is the man who did the preliminary work here. We might have some trouble with him.” “Did be do a good job?” Tonder asked. “Yes, he did, and he won’t be popular with the people here. I wonder whether he will be popular with us.” “He deserves credit, certainly,” Tonder said. 26 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN “Yes,” Lanser said, “and don’t think he won’t claim it.” Corell came in, rubbing his hands. He radiated good-will and good-fellowship. He was dressed still in his black business suit, but on his head there was a patch of white bandage, stuck to his hair with a cross of adhesive tape. He advanced to the center of the room and said, “Good morning, Colonel. I should have called yesterday after the trouble downstairs, but I knew how busy you would be.” The colonel said, “Good morning.” Then with a circular gesture of his hand. “This is my staff, Mr. Corell.” “Fine boys,” said Corell. “They did a good job. Well, I tried to prepare for them well.” Hunter looked down at his board and he took out an inking-pen and dipped it and began to ink in his drawing. Lanser said, “You did very well. I wish you hadn’t killed those six men, though. I wish their soldiers hadn’t come back.” Corell spread his hands and said comfortably, “Six men is a small loss for a town of this size, with a coal mine, too.” Lanser said sternly, “I am not averse to killing people if that finishes it. But sometimes it is better not to.” Corell had been studying the officers. He looked sideways at the lieutenants, and he said, “Could we—perhaps—talk alone, Colonel?” “Yes, if you wish. Lieutenant Prackle and Tonder, will you go to your room, please?” And the colonel said to Corell, “Major Hunter is working. He doesn’t hear anything when he’s working.” Hunter looked up from his board and smiled quietly and looked down again. The young lieutenants left the room, and when they were gone Lanser said, “Well, here we are. Won’t you sit down?” “Thank you, sir,” and Corell sat down behind the table. Lanser looked at the bandage on Corell’s head. He said bluntly, “Have they tried to kill you already?” Corell felt the bandage with his fingers. “This? Oh, this was a stone that fell from a cliff in the hill this morning?” “You’re sure it wasn’t thrown?” “What do you mean?” Corell asked. “These aren’t fierce people. They haven’t had a war for a hundred years. They’ve forgotten about fighting.” “Well, you’ve lived among them,” said the colonel. “You ought to know.” He stepped close to Corell. “But if you are safe, these people are different from any in the world. I’ve helped to occupy countries before. I was in Belgium twenty years ago and in France.” He shook his head a little as though to clear it, and he said gruffly, “You did a good job. We should thank you. I mentioned your work in my report.” “Thank you, sir,” said Corell. “I did my best.” 27 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Lanser said, a little wearily, “Well, sir, now what shall we do? Would you like to go back to the capital? We can put you on a coal barge if you’re in a hurry, or on a destroyer if you want to wait.” Corell said, “But I don’t want to go back. I’ll stay here.” Lanser studied this for a moment and he said, “you know, I haven’t a great many men. I can’t give you a very adequate bodyguard.” “But I don’t need a bodyguard. I tell you these aren’t violent people.” Lanser looked at the bandage for a moment Hunter glanced up from his board and remarked, “You’d better start wearing a helmet.” He looked down at his work again. Now Corell moved forward in his chair. “I wanted particularly to talk to you, Colonel. I thought I might help with the civil administration.” Lanser turned on his heel and walked to the window and looked out, and then he swung around and said quietly, “What have you in mind?” “Well, you must have a civil authority you can trust. I thought perhaps that Mayor Orden might step down now and—well, if I were to take over his office, it and the military would work very nicely together.” Lanser’s eyes seemed to grow large and bright. He came close to Corell and he spoke sharply. “Have you mentioned this in your report?” Corell said, “Well, yes, naturally—in my analysis.” Lanser interrupted. “Have you talked to any of the town people since we arrived—outside of the Mayor, that is?” “Well, no. You see, they are still a bit startled. They didn’t expect it.” He chuckled. “No, sir, they certainly didn’t expect it.” But Lanser pressed his point “So you don’t really know what’s going on in their minds?” “Why, they’re startled,” said Corell. “They’re—well, they’re almost dreaming.” “You don’t know what they think of you?” Lanser asked. “I have many friends here. I know everyone.” “Did anyone buy anything in your store this morning?” “Well, of course, business is at a standstill,” Corell answered. “No one’s buying anything.” Lanser relaxed suddenly. He went to a chair and sat down and crossed his legs. He said quietly, “Yours is a difficult and brave branch of the service. It should be greatly rewarded.” “Thank you, sir.” “You will have their hatred in time,” said the colonel. “I can stand that, sir. They are the enemy.” Now Lanser hesitated a long moment before he spoke, and then he said softly, “you will not even have our respect.” 28 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Corell jumped to his feet excitedly. “This is contrary to the Leader’s words!” he said. “The Leader has said that all branches are equally honorable.” Lanser went on very quietly, “I hope the Leader knows. I hope he can read the minds of soldiers.” And then almost compassionately he said, “You should be greatly rewarded.” For a moment he sat quietly and then he pulled himself together and said, “Now we must come to exactness. I am in charge here. My job is to get coal out. To do that I must maintain order and discipline, and to do that I must know what is in the minds of these people. I must anticipate revolt. Do you understand that?” “Well, I can find out what you wish to know, sir. As Mayor here, I will be very effective,” said Corell. Lanser shook his head. “I have no orders about this. I must use my own judgment. I think you will never again know what is going on here. I think no one will speak to you; no one will be near to you except those people who will live on money, who can live on money. I think without a guard you will be in great danger. It will please me if you go back to the capital, there to be rewarded for your fine work.” “But my place is here, sir,” said Corell. “I have made my place. It is all in my report.” Lanser went on as though he had not heard. “Mayor Orden is more than a mayor,” he said. “He is the people. He knows what they are doing, thinking, without asking, because he will think what they think. By watching him I will know them. He must stay. That is my judgment.” Corell said, “My work, sir, merits better treatment than being sent away.” “Yes, it does,” Lanser said slowly. “But to the larger work I think you are only a detriment now. If you are not hated yet, you will be. In any little revolt you will be the first to be killed. I think I will suggest that you go back.” Corell said stiffly, “You will, of course, permit me to wait for a reply to my report to the capital?” “Yes, of course. But I shall recommend that you go back for your own safety. Frankly, Mr. Corell, you have no value here. But—well, there must be other plans and other countries. Perhaps you will go now to some new town in some new country. You will win new confidence in a new field. You may be given a larger town, even a city, a greater responsibility. I think I will recommend you highly for your work here.” Corell’s eyes were shining with gratification.. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I’ve worked hard. Perhaps you are right. But you must permit me to wait for the reply from the capital.” 29 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Lanser’s voice was tight. His eyes were slitted. He said harshly, “Wear a helmet, keep indoors, do not go out at night, and, above all, do not drink. Trust no woman nor any man. Do you understand that?” Corell looked pityingly at the colonel. “I don’t think you understand. I have a little house. A pleasant country girl waits on me. I even think she’s a little fond of me. These are simple, peaceful people. I know them.” Lanser said, “There are no peaceful people. When will you learn it? There are no friendly people. Can’t you understand that? We have invaded this country—you, by what they call treachery, prepared for us.” His face grew red and his voice rose. “Can’t you understand that we are at war with these people?” Corell said, a little smugly, “We have defeated them.” The colonel stood up and swung his arms helplessly, and Hunter looked up from his board and put his hand out to protect his board from being jiggled Hunter said, “Careful now, sir. I’m inking in. I wouldn’t want to do it all over again.” Lanser looked down at him and said, “Sorry,” and went on as though he were instructing a class. He said, “Defeat is a momentary thing. A defeat doesn’t last. We were defeated and now we attack. Defeat means nothing. Can’t you understand that? Do you know what they are whispering behind doors?” Corell asked, “Do you?” “No, but I suspect.” Then Corell said insinuatingly, “Are you afraid, Colonel? Should the commander of this occupation be afraid?” Lanser sat down heavily and said, “Maybe that’s it.” And he said disgustedly, “I’m tired of people who have not been at war who know all about it.” He held his chin in his hand and said, “I remember a little old woman in Brussels—sweet face, white hair; she was only four feet eleven; delicate old hands. You could see the veins almost black against her skin. And her black shawl and her blue-white hair. She used to sing our national songs to us in a quivering, sweet voice. She always knew where to find a cigarette or a virgin.” He dropped his hand from his chin, and he caught himself as though he had been asleep. “We didn’t know her son had been executed,” he said “When we finally shot her, she had killed twelve men with a long black hatpin. I have it yet at home. It has an enamel button with a bird over it, red and blue.” Corell said, “But you shot her?” “Of course we shot her.” “And the murders stopped?” asked Corell. “No, the murders did not stop. And when we finally retreated, the people cut off stragglers and they burned some and they gouged the eyes from some, and some they even crucified.” Corell said loudly, “These are not good things to say, Colonel.” 30 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN “They are not good things to remember,” said Lanser. Corell said, “You should not be in command if you are afraid.” And Lanser answered softly, “I know how to fight, you see. If you know, at least you do not make silly errors.” “Do you talk this way to the young officers?” Lanser shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t believe me.” “Why do you tell me, then?” “Because, Mr. Corell, your work is done. I remember one time—” and as he spoke there was a tumble of feet on the stairs and the door burst open. A sentry looked in and Captain Loft brushed past him. Loft was rigid and cold and military; he said, “There’s trouble, sir.” “Trouble?” “I have to report, sir, that Captain Bentick has been killed.” Lanser said, “Oh—yes—Bentick!” There was the sound of a number of footsteps on the stairs and two stretcherbearers came in, carrying a figure covered with blankets. Lanser said, “Are you sure he’s dead?” “Quite sure,” Loft said stiffly. The lieutenants came in from the bedroom, their mouths a little open, and they looked frightened. Lanser said, “Put him down there,” and he pointed to the wall beside the windows. When the bearers had gone, Lanser knelt and lifted a corner of the blanket and then quickly put it down again. And still kneeling, he looked at Loft and said, “Who did this?” “A miner,” said Loft. “Why?” “I was there, sir.” “Well, make your report, then! Make your report, damn it, man!” Loft drew himself up and said formally, “I had just relieved Captain Bentick, as the colonel ordered. Captain Bentick was about to leave to come here when I had some trouble about a recalcitrant miner who wanted to quit work. He shouted something about being a free man. When I ordered him to work, he rushed at me with his pick. Captain Bentick tried to interfere.” He gestured slightly toward the body. Lanser, still kneeling, nodded slowly. “Bentick was a curious man,” he said. “He loved the English. He loved everything about them. I don’t think he liked to fight very much. ... You captured the man?” “Yes, sir,” Loft said. Lanser stood up slowly and spoke as though to himself. “So it starts again. We will shoot this man and make twenty new enemies. It’s the only thing we know, the only thing we know.” 31 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Prackle said, “What do you say, sir?” Lanser answered, “Nothing, nothing at all. I was just thinking.” He turned to Loft and said, “Please give my compliments to Mayor Orden and my request that he see me immediately. It is very important.” Major Hunter looked up, dried his inking-pen carefully, and put it away in a velvet-lined box. 32 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN CHAPTER III In the town the people moved sullenly through the streets. Some of the light of astonishment was gone from their eyes, but still a light of anger had not taken its place. In the coal shaft the workingmen pushed the coal cars sullenly. The small tradesmen stood behind their counters and served the people, but no one communicated with them. The people spoke to one another in monosyllables, and everyone was thinking of the war, thinking of himself, thinking of the past and how it had suddenly been changed. In the drawing-room of the palace of Mayor Orden a small fire burned and the lights were on, for it was a gray day outside and there was frost in the air. The room was itself undergoing a change. The tapestry-covered chairs were pushed back, the little tables out of the way, and through the doorway to the right Joseph and Annie were struggling to bring in a large, square dining-table. They had it on its side. Joseph was in the drawing-room and Annie’s red face showed through the door. Joseph maneuvered the legs around sideways, and he cried, “Don’t push, Annie! Now!” “I am ‘now-ing,’ ” said Annie, the red-nosed, the red-eyed, the angry. Annie was always a little angry and these soldiers, this occupation, did not improve her temper. Indeed, what for years had been considered simply a bad disposition was suddenly become a patriotic emotion. Annie had gained some little reputation as an exponent of liberty by throwing hot water on the soldiers. She would have thrown it on anyone who cluttered up her porch, but it just happened that she had become a heroine; and since anger had been the beginning of her success, Annie went on to new successes by whipping herself into increased and constant anger. “Don’t scuff the bottom,” Joseph said. The table wedged in the doorway. “Steady!” Joseph warned. “I am steady,” said Annie. Joseph stood off and studied the table, and Annie crossed her arms and glared at him. He tested a leg. “Don’t push,” he said. “Don’t push so hard.” And by himself he got the table through while Annie followed with crossed arms. “Now, up she goes,” said Joseph, and at last Annie helped him settle it on four legs and move it to the center of the room. “There,” Annie said. “If His Excellency hadn’t told me to, I wouldn’t have done it. What right have they got moving tables around?” “What right coming in at all?” said Joseph. “None,” said Annie. “None,” repeated Joseph. “I see it like they have no right at all, but they do it, with their guns and their parachutes; they do it, Annie.” 33 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN “They got no right,” said Annie. “What do they want with a table in here, anyway? This isn’t a dining-room.” Joseph moved a chair up to the table and he set it carefully at the right distance from the table, and he adjusted it. “They’re going to hold a trial,” he said “They’re going to try Alexander Morden.” “Molly Morden’s husband?” “Molly Morden’s husband.” “For bashing that fellow with a pick?” “That’s right,” said Joseph. “But he’s a nice man,” Annie said. “They’ve got no right to try him. He gave Molly a big red dress for her birthday. What right have they got to try Alex?” “Well,” Joseph explained, “he killed this fellow.” “Suppose he did; the fellow ordered Alex around. I heard about it. Alex doesn’t like to be ordered. Alex’s been an alderman in his time, and his father, too. And Molly Morden makes a nice cake,” Annie said charitably. “But her frosting gets too hard. What’ll they do with Alex?” “Shoot him,” Joseph said gloomily. “They can’t do that.” “Bring up the chairs, Annie. Yes, they can. They’ll just do it.” Annie shook a very rigid finger in his face. “You remember my words,” she said angrily. “People aren’t going to like it if they hurt Alex. People like Alex. Did he ever hurt anybody before? Answer me that!” “No,” said Joseph. “Well, there, you see! If they hurt Alex, people are going to be mad and I’m going to be mad I won’t stand for it.” “What will you do?” Joseph asked her. “Why, I’ll kill some of them myself,” said Annie. “And then they’ll shoot you,” said Joseph. “Let them! I tell you, Joseph, things can go too far—tramping in and out all hours of the night, shooting people.” Joseph adjusted a chair at the head of the table, and he became in some curious way a conspirator. He said softly, “Annie.” She paused and, sensing his tone, walked nearer to him. He said, “Can you keep a secret?” She looked at him with a little admiration, for he had never had a secret before. “Yes. What is it?” “Well, William Deal and Walter Doggel got away last night.” “Got away? Where?” “They got away to England, in a boat.” Annie sighed with pleasure and anticipation. “Does everybody know it?” 34 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN “Well, not everybody,” said Joseph. “Everybody but—” and he pointed a quick thumb toward the ceiling. “When did they go? Why didn’t I hear about it?” “You were busy.” Joseph’s voice and face were cold. “You know that Corell?” “Yes.” Joseph came close to her. “I don’t think he’s going to live long.” “What do you mean?” Annie asked. “Well, people are talking.” Annie sighed with tension. “Ah-h-h!!” Joseph at last had opinions. “People are getting together,” he said. “They don’t like to be conquered. Things are going to happen. You keep your eyes peeled, Annie. There’s going to be things for you to do.” Annie asked, “How about His Excellency? What’s he going to do? How does His Excellency stand?” “Nobody knows,” said Joseph. “He doesn’t say anything.” “He wouldn’t be against us,” Annie said. “He doesn’t say,” said Joseph. The knob turned on the left-hand door, and Mayor Orden came in slowly. He looked tired and old. Behind him Doctor Winter walked. Orden said, “That’s good, Joseph. Thank you, Annie. It looks very well.” They went out and Joseph looked back through the door for a moment before he closed it. Mayor Orden walked to the fire and turned to warm his back. Doctor Winter pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. “I wonder how much longer I can hold this position?” Orden said. “The people don’t quite trust me and neither does the enemy. I wonder whether this is a good thing.” “I don’t know,” said Winter. “you trust yourself, don’t you? There’s no doubt in your own mind?” “Doubt? No. I am the Mayor. I don’t understand many things.” He pointed to the table. “I don’t know why they have to hold this trial in here. They’re going to try Alex Morden here for murder. You remember Alex? He has that pretty little wife, Molly.” “I remember,” said Winter. “She used to teach in the grammar school. Yes, I remember. She’s so pretty, she hated to get glasses when she needed them. Well, I guess Alex killed an officer, all right. Nobody’s questioned that.” Mayor Orden said bitterly, ‘Nobody questions it But why do they try him? Why don’t they shoot him? This is not a matter of doubt or certainty, justice or injustice. There’s none of that here. Why must they try him—and in my house?” Winter said, “I would guess it is for the show. There’s an idea about it: if you go through the form of a thing, you have it, and sometimes people are satisfied with 35 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN the form of a thing. We had an army—soldiers with guns—but it wasn’t an army, you see. The invaders will have a trial and hope to convince the people that there is justice involved. Alex did kill the captain, you know.” “Yes, I see that,” Orden said. And Winter went on, “If it comes from your house, where the people expect justice—” He was interrupted by the opening of the door to the right. A young woman entered. She was about thirty and quite pretty. She carried her glasses in her hand. She was dressed simply and neatly and she was very excited. She said quickly, “Annie told me to come right in, sir.” “Why, of course,” said the Mayor. “You’re Molly Morden.” “Yes, sir, I am. They say that Alex is to be tried and shot.” Orden looked down at the floor for a moment, and Molly went on, “They say you will sentence him. It will be your words that send him out.” Orden looked up, startled. “What’s this? Who says this?” “The people in the town.” She held herself very straight and she asked, half pleadingly, half demandingly, “You wouldn’t do that, would you, sir?” “How could the people know what I don’t know?” he said. “That is a great mystery,” said Doctor Winter. “That is a mystery that has disturbed rulers all over the world—how the people know. It disturbs the invaders now, I am told, how news runs through censorships, how the truth of things fights free of control. It is a great mystery.” The girl looked up, for the room had suddenly darkened, and she seemed to be afraid. “It’s a cloud,” she said. “There’s word snow is on the way, and it’s early, too.” Doctor Winter went to the window and squinted up at the sky, and he said, “Yes, it’s a big cloud; maybe it will pass over.” Mayor Orden switched on a lamp that made only a little circle of light. He switched it on again and said, “A light in the daytime is a lonely thing.” Now Molly came near to him again. “Alex is not a murdering man,” she said. “He’s a quick-tempered man, but he’s never broken a law. He’s a respected man.” Orden rested his hand on her shoulder and he said, “I have known Alex since he was a little boy. I knew his father and his grandfather. His grandfather was a bearhunter in the old days. Did you know that?” Molly ignored him. “You wouldn’t sentence Alex?” “No,” he said. “How could I sentence him?” “The people said you would, for the sake of order.” Mayor Orden stood behind a chair and gripped its back with his hands. “Do the people want order, Molly?” “I don’t know,” she said. “They want to be free.” “Well, do they know how to go about it? Do they know what method to use against an armed enemy?” 36 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN “No,” Molly said, “I don’t think so.” “You are a bright girl, Molly; do you know?” “No, sir, but I think the people feel that they are beaten if they are docile. They want to show these soldiers they’re unbeaten.” “They’ve had no chance to fight. It’s no fight to go against machine guns,” Doctor Winter said Orden said, “When you know what they want to do, will you tell me, Molly?” She looked at him suspiciously. “Yes—” she said “You mean ‘no.’ You don’t trust me.” “But how about Alex?” she questioned. “I’ll not sentence him. He has committed no crime against our people,” said the Mayor. Molly was hesitant now. She said, “Will they—will they kill Alex?” Orden stared at her and he said, “Dear child, my dear child.” She held herself rigid. “Thank you.” Orden came close to her and she said weakly, “Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me.” And his hand dropped. For a moment she stood still, then she turned stiffly and went out of the door. She had just closed the door when Joseph entered. “Excuse me, sir, the colonel wants to see you. I said you were busy. I knew she was here. And Madame wants to see you, too.” Orden said, “Ask Madame to come in.” Joseph went out and Madame came in immediately. “I don’t know how I can run a house,” she began; “it’s more people than the house can stand. Annie’s angry all the time.” “Hush!” Orden said. Madame looked at him in amazement. “I don’t know what—” “Hush!” he said. “Sarah, I want you to go to Alex Morden’s house. Do you understand? I want you to stay with Molly Morden while she needs you. Don’t talk, just stay with her.” Madame said, “I’ve a hundred things—” “Sarah, I want you to stay with Molly Morden. Don’t leave her alone. Go now.” She comprehended slowly. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will. When will it be over?” “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll send Annie when it’s time.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and went out. Orden walked to the door and called, “Joseph, I’ll see the colonel now.” Lanser came in. He had on a new pressed uniform with a little ornamental dagger at the belt. He said, “Good morning, Your Excellency. I wish to speak to you informally.” He glanced at Doctor Winter. “I should like to speak to you alone.” 37 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Winter went slowly to the door and as he reached it Orden said, “Doctor!” Winter turned “Yes?” “Will you come back this evening?” “You will have work for me?” the doctor asked. “No—no. I just won’t like to be alone.” “I will be here,” said the doctor. “And, Doctor, do you think Molly looked all right?” “Oh, I think so. Close to hysteria, I guess. But she’s good stock. She’s good, strong stock. She is a Kenderly, you know.” “I’d forgotten,” Orden said. “Yes, she is a Kenderly, isn’t she?” Doctor Winter went out and shut the door gently behind him. Lanser had waited courteously. He watched the door close. He looked at the table and the chairs about it. “I will not tell you, sir, how sorry I am about this. I wish it had not happened.” Mayor Orden bowed, and Lanser went on, “I like you, sir, and I respect you, but I have a job to do. You surely recognize that.” Orden did not answer. He looked straight into Lanser’s eyes. “We do not act alone or on our own judgment.” Between sentences Lanser waited for an answer but he received none. “There are rules laid down for us, rules made in the capital. This man has killed an officer.” At last Orden answered, “Why didn’t you shoot him then? That was the time to do it.” Lanser shook his head “If I agreed with you, it would make no difference. You know as well as I that punishment is largely for the purpose of deterring the potential criminal. Thus, since punishment is for others than the punished, it must be publicized. It must even be dramatized.” He thrust a finger in back of his belt and flipped his little dagger. Orden turned away and looked out of the window at the dark sky. “It will snow tonight,” he said. “Mayor Orden, you know our orders are inexorable. We must get the coal. If your people are not orderly, we will have to restore that order by force.” His voice grew stern. “We must shoot people if it is necessary. If you wish to save your people from hurt, you must help us to keep order. Now, it is considered wise by my government that punishment emanate from the local authority. It makes for a more orderly situation.” Orden said softly, “So the people did know. That is a mystery.” And louder he said, “You wish me to pass sentence of death on Alexander Morden after a trial here?” “Yes, and you will prevent much bloodshed later if you will do it.” 38 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Orden went to the table and pulled out the big chair at its head and sat down. And suddenly he seemed to be the judge, with Lanser the culprit. He drummed with his fingers on the table. He said, “You and your government do not understand. In all the world yours is the only government and people with a record of defeat after defeat for centuries and every time because you did not understand people.” He paused. “This principle does not work. First, I am the Mayor. I have no right to pass sentence of death. There is no one in this community with that right. If I should do it, I would be breaking the law as much as you.” “Breaking the law?” said Lanser. “You killed six men when you came in. Under our law you are guilty of murder, all of you. Why do you go into this nonsense of law, Colonel? There is no law between you and us. This is war. Don’t you know you will have to kill all of us or we in time will kill all of you? You destroyed the law when you came in, and a new law took its place. Don’t you know that?” Lanser said, “May I sit down?” “Why do you ask? That is another lie. You could make me stand if you wished.” Lanser said, “No; it is true whether you believe it or not: personally, I have respect for you and your office, and”—he put his forehead in his hand for a moment—“you see, what I think, sir, I, a man of a certain age and certain memories, is of no importance. I might agree with you, but that would change nothing. The military, the political pattern I work in has certain tendencies and practices which are invariable.” Orden said, “And these tendencies and practices have been proven wrong in every single case since the beginning of the world.” Lanser laughed bitterly. “I, an individual man with certain memories, might agree with you, might even add that one of the tendencies of the military mind and pattern is an inability to learn, an inability to see beyond the killing which is its job. But I am not a man subject to memories. The coal miner must be shot publicly, because the theory is that others will then restrain themselves from killing our men.” Orden said, “We need not talk any more, then.” “Yes, we must talk. We want you to help.” Orden sat quietly for a while and then he said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. How many men were on the machine guns which killed our soldiers?” “Oh, not more than twenty, I guess,” said Lanser. “Very well. If you will shoot them, I will condemn Morden!” “You’re not serious!” said the colonel. “But I am serious.” “This can’t be done. You know it.” “I know it,” said Orden. “And what you ask cannot be done.” 39 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Lanser said, “I suppose I knew. Corell will have to be Mayor after all.” He looked up quickly. “You will stay for the trial?” “Yes, I’ll stay. Then Alex won’t be so lonely.” Lanser looked at him and smiled a little sadly. “We have taken on a job, haven’t we?” “Yes,” said the Mayor, “the one impossible job in the world, the one thing that can’t be done.” “And that is?” “To break man’s spirit permanently.” Orden’s head sank a little toward the table, and he said, without looking up, “It’s started to snow. It didn’t wait for night. I like the sweet, cool smell of the snow.” 40 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN CHAPTER IV By eleven o’clock the snow was falling heavily in big, soft puffs and the sky was not visible at all. People were scurrying through the falling snow, and snow piled up in the doorways and it piled up on the statue in the public square and on the rails from the mine to the harbor. Snow piled up and the little cartwheels skidded as they were pushed along. And over the town there hung a blackness that was deeper than the cloud, and over the town there hung a sullenness and a dry, growing hatred. The people did not stand in the streets long, but they entered the doors and the doors closed and there seemed to be eyes looking from behind the curtains, and when the military went through the street or when the patrol walked down the main street, the eyes were on the patrol, cold and sullen. And in the shops people came to buy little things for lunch and they asked for the goods and got it and paid for it and exchanged no good-day with the seller. In the little palace drawing-room the lights were on and the lights shone on the falling snow outside the window. The court was in session. Lanser sat at the head of the table with Hunter on his right, then Tonder, and, at the lower end, Captain Loft with a little pile of papers in front of him. On the opposite side, Mayor Orden sat on the colonel’s left and Prackle was next to him—Prackle, who scribbled on his pad of paper. Beside the table two guards stood with bayonets fixed, with helmets on their heads, and they were little wooden images. Between them was Alex Morden, a big young man with a wide, low forehead, with deep-set eyes and a long, sharp nose. His chin was firm and his mouth sensual and wide. He was wide of shoulder, narrow of hip, and in front of him his manacled hands clasped and unclasped. He was dressed in black trousers, a blue shirt open at the neck, and a dark coat shiny from wear. Captain Loft read from the paper in front of him, “ ‘When ordered back to work, he refused to go, and when the order was repeated, the prisoner attacked Captain Loft with the pick-ax he carried. Captain Bentick interposed his body—’ ” Mayor Orden coughed and, when Loft stopped reading, said, “Sit down, Alex. One of you guards get him a chair.” The guard turned and pulled up a chair unquestioningly. Loft said, “It is customary for the prisoner to stand.” “Let him sit down,” Orden said. “Only we will know. You can report that he stood.” “It is not customary to falsify reports,” said Loft. “Sit down, Alex,” Orden repeated. 41 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN And the big young man sat down and his manacled hands were restless in his lap. Loft began, “This is contrary to all—” The colonel said, “let him be seated.” Captain Loft cleared his throat. “ ‘Captain Bentick interposed his body and received a blow on the head which crushed his skull.’ A medical report is appended. Do you wish me to read it?” “No need,” said Lanser. “Make it as quick as you can.” “ ‘These facts have been witnessed by several of our soldiers, whose statements are attached. This military court finds that the prisoner is guilty of murder and recommends a death sentence.’ Do you wish me to read the statements of the soldiers?” Lanser sighed “No.” He turned to Alex. “You don’t deny that you killed the captain, do you?” Alex smiled sadly. “I hit him,” he said. “I don’t know that I killed him.” Orden said, “Good work, Alex!” And the two looked at each other as friends. Loft said, “Do you mean to imply that he was killed by someone else?” “I don’t know,” said Alex. “I only hit him, and then somebody hit me.” Colonel Lanser said, “Do you want to offer any explanation? I can’t think of anything that will change the sentence, but we will listen.” Loft said, “I respectfully submit that the colonel should not have said that. It indicates that the court is not impartial.” Orden laughed dryly. The colonel looked at him and smiled a little. “Have you any explanation?” he repeated. Alex lifted a hand to gesture and the other came with it. He looked embarrassed and put them in his lap again. “I was mad,” he said. “I have a pretty bad temper. He said I must work. I am a free man. I got mad and I hit him. I guess I hit him hard. It was the wrong man.” He pointed at Loft. “That’s the man I wanted to hit, that one.” Lanser said, “It doesn’t matter whom you wanted to hit. Anybody would have been the same. Are you sorry you did it?” He said aside to the table, “It would look well in the record if he were sorry.” “Sorry?” Alex asked. “I’m not sorry. He told me to go to work—me, a free man! I used to be alderman. He said I had to work.” “But if the sentence is death, won’t you be sorry then?” Alex sank his head and really tried to think honestly. “No,” he said. “You mean, would I do it again?” “That’s what I mean.” “No,” Alex said thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’m sorry. 42 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN Lanser said, “Put in the record that the prisoner was overcome with remorse. Sentence is automatic. Do you understand?” he said to Alex. “The court has no leeway. The court finds you guilty and sentences you to be shot immediately. I do not see any reason to torture you with this any more. Captain Loft, is there anything I have forgotten?” “You’ve forgotten me,” said Orden. He stood up and pushed back his chair and stepped over to Alex. And Alex, from long habit, stood up respectfully. “Alexander, I am the elected Mayor.” “I know it, sir.” “Alex, these men are invaders. They have taken our country by surprise and treachery and force.” Captain Loft said, “Sir, this should not be permitted.” Lanser said, “Hush! Is it better to hear it, or would you rather it were whispered?” Orden went on as though he had not been interrupted. “When they came, the people were confused and I was confused. We did not know what to do or think. Yours was the first clear act. Your private anger was the beginning of a public anger. I know it is said in town that I am acting with these men. I can show the town, but you—you are going to die. I want you to know.” Alex dropped his head and then raised it. “I know, sir.” Lanser said, “Is the squad ready?” “Outside, sir.” “Who is commanding?” “Lieutenant Tonder, sir.” Tonder raised his head and his chin was hard and he held his breath. Orden said softly, “Are you afraid, Alex?” And Alex said, “Yes, sir.” “I can’t tell you not to be. I would be, too, and so would these young—gods of war.” Lanser said, “Call your squad.” Tonder got up quickly and went to the door. “They’re here, sir.” He opened the door wide and the helmeted men could be seen. Orden said, “Alex, go, knowing that these men will have no rest, no rest at all until they are gone, or dead. You will make the people one. It’s a sad knowledge and little enough gift to you, but it is so. No rest at all.” Alex shut his eyes tightly. Mayor Orden leaned close and kissed him on the cheek. “Good-bye, Alex,” he said. The guard took Alex by the arm and the young man kept his eyes tightly closed, and they guided him through the door. The squad faced about, and their feet marched away down out of the house and into the snow, and the snow muffled their footsteps. 43 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN The men about the table were silent. Orden looked toward the window and saw a little round spot being rubbed clear of snow by a quick hand. He stared at it, fascinated, and then he looked quickly away. He said to the colonel, “I hope you know what you are doing.” Captain Loft gathered his papers and Lanser asked, “In the square, Captain?” “Yes, in the square. It must be public,” Loft said. And Orden said, “I hope you know.” “Man,” said the colonel, “whether we know or not, it is what must be done.” Silence fell on the room and each man listened. And it was not long. From the distance there came a crash of firing. Lanser sighed deeply. Orden put his hand to his forehead and filled his lungs deeply. Then there was a shout outside. The glass of the window crashed inward and Lieutenant Prackle wheeled about. He brought his hand up to his shoulder and stared at it. Lanser leaped up, crying, “So, it starts! Are you badly hurt, Lieutenant?” “My shoulder,” said Prackle. Lanser took command. “Captain Loft, there will be tracks in the snow. Now, I want every house searched for firearms. I want every man who has one taken hostage. You, sir,” he said to the Mayor, “are placed in protective custody. And understand this, please: we will shoot, five, ten, a hundred for one.” Orden said quietly, “A man of certain memories.” Lanser stopped in the middle of an order. He looked over slowly at the Mayor and for a moment they understood each other. And then Lanser straightened his shoulders. “A man of no memories!” he said sharply. And then, “I want every weapon in town gathered. Bring in everyone who resists. Hurry, before their tracks are filled.” The staff found their helmets and loosed their pistols and started out. And Orden went to the broken window. He said sadly, “The sweet, cool smell of the snow.” 44 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN CHAPTER V The days and the weeks dragged on, and the months dragged on. The snow fell and melted and fell and melted and finally fell and stuck. The dark buildings of the little town wore bells and hats and eyebrows of white and there were trenches through the snow to the doorways. In the harbor the coal barges came empty and went away loaded, but the coal did not come out of the ground easily. The good miners made mistakes. They were clumsy and slow. Machinery broke and took a long time to fix. The people of the conquered country settled in a slow, silent, waiting revenge. The men who had been traitors, who had helped the invaders— and many of them believed it was for a better state and an ideal way of life—found that the control they took was insecure, that the people they had known looked at them coldly and never spoke. And there was death in the air, hovering and waiting. Accidents happened on the railroad, which clung to the mountains and connected the little town with the rest of the nation. Avalanches poured down on the tracks and rails were spread. No train could move unless the tracks were first inspected. People were shot in reprisal and it made no difference. Now and then a group of young men escaped and went to England. And the English bombed the coal mine and did some damage and killed some of both their friends and their enemies. And it did no good. The cold hatred grew with the winter, the silent, sullen hatred, the waiting hatred. The fool supply was controlled-issued to the obedient and withheld from the disobedient— so that the whole population turned coldly obedient. There was a point where food could not be withheld, for a starving man cannot mine coal, cannot lift and carry. And the hatred was deep in the eyes of the people, beneath the surface. Now it was that the conqueror was surrounded, the men of the battalion alone among silent enemies, and no man might relax his guard for even a moment. If he did, he disappeared, and some snowdrift received his body. If he went alone to a woman, he disappeared and some snowdrift received his body. If he drank, he disappeared. The men of the battalion could sing only together, could dance only together, and dancing gradually stopped and the singing expressed a longing for home. Their talk was of friends and relatives who loved them and their longings were for warmth and love, because a man can be a soldier for only so many hours a day and for only so many months in a year, and then he wants to be a man again, wants girls and drinks and music and laughter and ease, and when these are cut off, they become irresistibly desirable. And the men thought always of home. The men of the battalion came to detest the place they had conquered, and they were curt with the people and the people 45 John Steinbeck ™ THE MOON IS DOWN were curt with them, and gradually a little fear began to grow in the conquerors, a fear that it would never be over, that they could never relax or go home, a fear that one day they would crack and be hunted through the mountains like rabbits, for the conquered never relaxed their hatred. The patrols, seeing lights, hearing laughter, would be drawn as to a fire, and when they came near, the laughter stopped, the warmth went out, and the people were cold and obedient. And the soldiers, smelling warm food from the little restaurants, went in and ordered the warm food and found that it was oversalted or overpeppered. Then the soldiers read the news from home and from the other conquered countries, and the news was always good, and for a little while they believed it, and then after a while they did not believe it any more. And every man carried in his heart the terror. “If home, crumbled, they would not tell us, and then it would be too late. These people will not spare us. They will kill us all.” They remembered stories of their men retreating through Belgium and retreating out of Russia. And the more literate remembered the frantic, tragic retreat from Moscow, when every peasant’s pitchfork tasted blood and the snow was rotten with bodies. And they knew when they cracked, or relaxed, or slept too long, it would be the same here, and their sleep was restless and their days were nervous. They asked questions their officers could not answer because they did not know. They were not told, either. They did not believe the reports from home, either. Thus it came about that the conquerors grew afraid of the conquered and their nerves wore thin and they shot at shadows in the night. The cold, sullen silence was with them always. Then three soldiers went insane in a week and cried all night and all day until they were sent away home. And others mig...
Purchase answer to see full attachment