Potter stepped to the edge of the truck and pointed his finger in their faces. “Not a man of you need go back to work. Every man who wants to can go to the office for his pay....” He turned and pointed up to the flag that stood out in the breeze from the flagstaff above the building. “You’re working under that,” he cried. “We want nobody working under it who is a quitter. What we want here are men.... What if there is danger? Your sons and brothers and friends have gone to face real danger, the danger of the trench and the battlefield.... Are they better men than you? Are you willing to admit that they love that flag more than you? If you do admit it, we don’t want you here.... You’d fight, you say. You want to see your country victorious.... Well, make her victorious. Her victory is tied to this plant and to you. Every man of you is worth a hundred soldiers in France. That’s what you mean to America. Every motor you turn out for an aeroplane is worth a regiment. That’s what your work means.... And you want to lie down, to quit.... Great God! Is that the sort of Americans you are?... Go to the office. Somewhere we’ll find men with guts. This work sha’n’t fail because a German spy has lied in your ears and frightened you.... I’m through with you. You’re willing to let other men do your fighting and face your dangers—and you go home and hide behind your wives when danger is only whispered about. Look at that flag, if you’re not ashamed.... Look at it good, and ask yourselves if you’d rather see the German flag flying there? If you would—go on with this thing. Quit. Take your pay and run. I want fighting-men. I want men who are willing to give their lives for America if she needs them. I don’t want you.... From this minute you don’t work for me, not one of you. From this minute every employee in this plant shall be a volunteer, a man who is willing to fight. This afternoon I move my office into the shop—to be right there when the explosion comes that you’re running away from. If there’s danger I’ll be there to see it with the men in the shop.... I’m going to fight. I want to say that I wanted to fight in France. I wanted to fly an aeroplane over the German lines, but I wasn’t allowed. The War Department ordered me to stay here—and why? Because here is where the war is to be won.... And you’ll have no part in it. Some day your grandchildren will be asking you what you did to help America—and you’ll have to tell them you laid down, that you ran, that you quit in a pinch. That’s all.... The paymaster’s office is open and ready.... You’re fired.” He stopped and glared down at them, and they stood silent, astonished.
“Now,” he shouted, “are there any real Americans among you? I’m calling for volunteers to stick to the job.... Volunteers. Men who will stick to me, hell or high water, dynamite or cyclone. Who’ll stand by America! Who’ll work under that flag!” He pointed upward again. “I’m through. I’ve said all I have to say.... Now then, quitters to the paymaster... volunteers stand forward.”
A man at the far edge began to slink away. Potter watched him in tense anxiety. The men watched him. Was he the first sheep of the flock? Was he the first drop of a deluge? They waited a breathless minute; then a burly man in overalls sprang after the slinker and caught him by the shoulder.
“Git back there!” he shouted. “What the hell you think you’re doing? Git back there, you—”
“Stop,” said Potter. “Let him go if he wants to.”
“He’ll stay,” shouted the big man, “or I’ll see him carried out. He’s a brother of mine. This hain’t your business. It’s mine.... You git back there, Bob.”
Bob slunk back to his place amid jeers and shouts from the men, now in motion, milling like a herd of excited cattle.
“Volunteers!” shouted Potter. “Volunteers step this way!”
Lakin stepped forward and turned to glare at his companions. Another man joined him, and another.... Then the whole throng seemed to surge forward as if swept by a great wind, and as they swept forward they shouted. It was a man’s shout, a shout of victory, a shout of enthusiasm, a shout which told Potter that something had moved in their hearts, and the music of it was very sweet. His face glowed, his eyes burned.
“I thought it was in you,” he said, and his voice was not harsh, as it had been, but clogged with emotion and unsteady. “I had faith in you ... because you were all Americans.... Thank you, men.... The Waite Volunteers.”