The Worlds of Robert A. Heinlein

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!”

“We have free speech here, don’t we? What I want to know is, How long does

this go on? I’m getting tired of competing with coyotes for the privilege

of eating jackrabbits. You know I’ve fought with the best of them. I’ve

gone on the raids. Well, haven’t I? Haven’t I? You can’t call me yellow.”

“You’ve been on some raids,” Morgan conceded.

“All right. I’d go along indefinitely if I could see some sensible plan.

That’s why I ask, ‘How long does this go on?” When do we move? Next spring?

Next year?”

Morgan gestured impatiently. “How do I know? It may be next spring; it may

be ten years. The Poles waited three hundred years.”

“That tears it,” Benz said slowly. “I was hoping you could offer some

reasonable plan. Wait and arm ourselves — that’s a pretty picture! Homemade

hand grenades against atom bombs! Why don’t you quit kidding yourselves?

We’re licked!” He hitched at his belt. “The rest of you can do as you

please — I’m through.”

Morgan shrugged. “If a man won’t fight, I can’t make him. You’re assigned

noncombatant duties. Turn in your gun. Report to Cathleen.”

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