<SPAN name="VII"></SPAN>
<h1 align="center" style="margin-top: 2em;font-variant: small-caps">Chapter VII</h1>
<h2 align="center" style="margin-top: 2em;font-variant: small-caps">The Winning of a Medal</h2>
<p>It had become the practice of the War Department to
present to the army every five years a comprehensive
military problem involving an imaginary attack upon
this country by a powerful foreign foe, and the proper
line of defense. The competition was open to both
officers and men. A medal was given to the successful
contestant, and much distinction came with it.</p>
<p>There had been as yet but one contest; five years
before the medal had been won by a Major General who
by wide acclaim was considered the greatest military
authority in the Army. That he should win seemed to
accord with the fitness of things, and it was thought
that he would again be successful.</p>
<p>The problem had been given to the Army on the first
of November, and six months were allowed to study
it and hand in a written dissertation thereon. It
was arranged that the general military staff that considered
the papers should not know the names of the contestants.</p>
<p>Philip had worked upon the matter assiduously while
he was at Fort Magruder, and had sent in his paper
early in March. Great was his surprise upon receiving
a telegram from the Secretary of War announcing that
he had won the medal. For a few days he was a national
sensation. The distinction of the first winner, who
was again a contestant, and Philip’s youth and
obscurity, made such a striking contrast that the
whole situation appealed enormously to the imagination
of the people. Then, too, the problem was one of unusual
interest, and it, as well as Philip’s masterly
treatment of it, was published far and wide.</p>
<p>The Nation was clearly treating itself to a sensation,
and upon Philip were focused the eyes of all. From
now he was a marked man. The President, stirred by
the wishes of a large part of the people, expressed
by them in divers ways, offered him reinstatement in
the Army with the rank of Major, and indicated, through
the Secretary of War, that he would be assigned as
Secretary to the General Staff. It was a gracious
thing to do, even though it was prompted by that political
instinct for which the President had become justly
famous.</p>
<p>In an appreciative note of thanks, Philip declined.
Again he became the talk of the hour. Poor, and until
now obscure, it was assumed that he would gladly seize
such an opportunity for a brilliant career within his
profession. His friends were amazed and urged him to
reconsider the matter, but his determination was fixed.</p>
<p>Only Gloria understood and approved.</p>
<p>“Philip,” said Mr. Strawn, “do not
turn this offer down lightly. Such an opportunity
seldom comes twice in any man’s life.”</p>
<p>“I am deeply impressed with the truth of what
you say, Mr. Strawn, and I am not putting aside a
military career without much regret. However, I am
now committed to a life work of a different character,
one in which glory and success as the world knows
it can never enter, but which appeals to every instinct
that I possess. I have turned my face in the one direction,
and come what may, I shall never change.”</p>
<p>“I am afraid, Philip, that in the enthusiasm
of youth and inexperience you are doing a foolish
thing, one that will bring you many hours of bitter
regret. This is the parting of the ways with you. Take
the advice of one who loves you well and turn into
the road leading to honor and success. The path which
you are about to choose is obscure and difficult,
and none may say just where it leads.”</p>
<p>“What you say is true, Mr. Strawn, only we are
measuring results by different standards. If I could
journey your road with a blythe heart, free from regret,
when glory and honor came, I should revel in it and
die, perhaps, happy and contented. But constituted
as I am, when I began to travel along that road, from
its dust there would arise to haunt me the ghosts
of those of my fellowmen who had lived and died without
opportunity. The cold and hungry, the sick and suffering
poor, would seem to cry to me that I had abandoned
them in order that I might achieve distinction and
success, and there would be for me no peace.”</p>
<p>And here Gloria touched his hand with hers, that he
might know her thoughts and sympathy were at one with
his.</p>
<p>Philip was human enough to feel a glow of satisfaction
at having achieved so much reputation. A large part
of it, he felt, was undeserved and rather hysterical,
but that he had been able to do a big thing made him
surer of his ground in his new field of endeavor. He
believed, too, that it would aid him largely in obtaining
the confidence of those with whom he expected to work
and of those he expected to work for.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />