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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"They Call Me Carpenter"

Carpenter
faced him without flinching; there was something so majestic about
him, the man did not strike him, he merely put his spread hand
against the prophet's chest and shoved him violently. "Get back out
of the way!"
I well knew the risk I was taking, but I could not refrain. "Now,
look here, buddy!" I began; and the soldier whirled upon me. "You
one of these Huns, too?"
"I was all through the Argonne," I said quickly. "And I belong to
the Brigade."
"Oh ho! Well, pitch in here, and help carry out this bloody
Arnychist literature!"
I was about to answer, but Carpenter's voice rang out again. He had
turned and stretched out his arms to the crowd, and we both stopped
to listen to his words.
"Shall ye be wolves, or shall ye be men? That is the choice, and ye
have chosen wolfhood. The blood of your brothers is upon your hands,
and murder in your hearts. You have trained your young men to be
killers of their brothers, and now they know only the law of
madness."
There were a dozen ex-doughboys in sound of this discourse, and I
judged they would not stand much of it.


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