Heinlein, Robert A – Expanded Universe

There was a stir, but no comment. Most of them had lived in Barclay; all had

ties there.

“I guess you’re waiting for me,” McCracken began. “We held a meeting as soon

as this was posted. We weren’t all there-it’s getting harder to cover up even the

smallest gathering-but there was no disagreement. We’re behind you but we want you

to go a little easy. We suggest that you cut out pulling raids within, oh, say

twenty miles of Barclay, and that you stop all killing unless absolutely necessary

to avoid capture. It’s the killings they get excited about-it was killing of the

district director that touched off St. Joe.”

Benz sniffed. “So we don’t do anything. We just give up-and stay here in the

hills and starve.”

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“Let me finish, Benz. We don’t propose to let them scare us out and keep us

enslaved forever. But casual raids don’t do them any real harm. They’re mostly for

food for the Underground and for minor retaliations. We’ve got to conserve our

strength and increase it and organize, until we can hit hard enough to make it

stick. We won’t let you starve. I can do more organizing among the farmers and some

animals can be hidden out, unregistered. We can get you meat-some, anyhow. And we’ll

split our rations with you. They’ve got

us on 1800 calories now, but we can share it. Something can be done through the

black market, too. There are ways.”

Benz made a contemptuous sound. Morgan looked at him.

“Speak up, Joe. What’s on your mind?”

“I will. It’s not a plan; it’s a disorderly retreat. A year from now we’ll

be twice as hungry and no further along-and they’ll be better dug in and stronger.

Where does it get us?”

Morgan shook his head. “You’ve got it wrong. Even if we hadn’t had it forced

on us, we would have been moving into this stage anyhow. The Free Companies have got

to quit drawing attention to themselves. Once the food problem is solved we’ve got

to build up our strength and weapons. We’ve got to have organization and

weapons-nationwide organization and guns, knives, and hand grenades. We’ve got to

turn this mine into a factory. There are people down in Barclay who can use the

stuff we can make here-but we can’t risk letting Barclay be blasted in the meantime.

Easy does it.”

“Ed Morgan, you’re kidding yourself and you know it.”

“How?”

“‘How?’ Look, you sold me the idea of staying on the dodge and joining up-”

“You volunteered.”

“Okay, I volunteered. It was all because you were so filled with fire and

vinegar about how we would throw the enemy back into the ocean. You talked about

France and Poland and how the Filipinos kept on fighting after they were occupied.

You sold me a bill of goods. But there was something you didn’t tell me-”

“Go on.”

“There never was an Underground that freed its own country. All of them had

to be pulled out of the soup by an invasion from outside. Nobody is going to pull us

out.”

There was silence after this remark. The statement

had too much truth in it, but it was truth that no member of the Company could

afford to think about. Young Morrie broke it. “Captain?”

“Yes, Morrie.” Being a fighting man, Morrie was therefore a citizen and a

voter.

“How can Joe be so sure he knows what he’s talking about? History doesn’t

repeat. Anyhow, maybe we will get some help. England, maybe-or even the Russians.

Benz snorted. “Listen to the punk! Look, kid, England was smashed like we

were, only worse-and Russia, too. Grow up; quit daydreaming.”

The boy looked at him doggedly. “You don’t know that. We only know what they

chose to tell us. And there aren’t enough of them to hold down the whole world,

everybody, everywhere. We never managed to lick the Yaquis, or the Moros. And they

can’t lick us unless we let them. I’ve read some history too.”

Benz shrugged. “Okay, okay. Now we can all sing ‘My Country ‘Tis of Thee’

and recite the Scout oath. That ought to make Morrie happy-”

“Take it easy, Joe!”