After the armistice a different situation arose. Many thousands of soldiers have been, are being, and for some time will be discharged who did not have the opportunity to be naturalized while in the service. The work in connection with their naturalization ... devolves solely upon the force of this service; ... the army is no longer in a position to render aid.... The demands upon the field-naturalization offices are so great that both civilian and soldier naturalization have had to suffer. Because of inability to furnish a sufficient allotment for additional clerical assistants in the office of the clerk of one of the largest naturalization courts in the United States, the clerk is able to care for but a small proportion of the soldier applicants as promptly as should be, and, under his present allowance, will be able to naturalize only approximately a half dozen daily. In another office of the clerk of a large naturalization court, civilians and honorably discharged soldiers are being turned away without receiving attention; and this is equally true in the field naturalization offices. So large a number of soldier applicants are coming into the field offices that in some it has become necessary to take the names and addresses of the applicants as they call and send notices to them at a future date when they can hope to have their applications attended to. Notices have also been inserted in the newspapers notifying them of the time they may appear, in order to save the time and expense of useless trips to the offices of examiners. It has also been necessary to close the doors of naturalization offices when the number of applicants admitted to offices constituted as many as could be accommodated. This has resulted in turning away from 100 to 150 soldiers and civilians daily in several cities. Because of insufficiency of appropriation, it has become necessary in one field office to limit the taking of civilian petitions for naturalization to only two days of the week in order to take care of the applications of honorably discharged soldiers.
These demands upon this service and the offices of the clerks of courts are so great that the government is being severely criticized for not providing facilities for both the discharged soldiers and civilian foreign born to take steps toward procuring their American citizenship to which they are justly entitled.
A GREAT COMPOSITE RECORD OF LOYALTY
Mr. Raymond F. Crist, then Director of Citizenship in the Bureau of Naturalization, pays a well-deserved tribute to the loyalty and the sacrifices of the foreign born, and points to the enhanced responsibility laid upon us by the service these men gave. In his report to the Commissioner of Naturalization,[148] “Concerning Americanization Activities,” Mr. Crist says, in part:
The names upon the roll of honor of the nation that were cabled back by the American Expeditionary Forces in France give emphatic testimony to the loyalty of the foreign born. The names on the rolls represent all European nationalities. So strongly in evidence were these names that they might well have been the rosters of the dead and wounded of any or all the European countries. The percentage of distinctly non-Anglo-Saxon names was exceedingly high. These lists still give mute testimony to the fact that the immigrant and the immigrant’s sons have laid down their lives for the land of their adoption. When the final records are computed they will undoubtedly show the presence in the military forces of our nation of the full quota of those of foreign birth. Their presence in our military and naval forces has worked a transformation with them. It has created an after-war debt and obligation upon the United States. The alien-born soldier has returned to America an educated and transformed individual. He is an American in all the senses.
Without intention to cavil or quibble about what Mr. Crist says—for what he says is essentially true—it is needful to remember that neither the stress of emotion under which these mass ceremonies at the camps were conducted, nor the act and fact of naturalization itself, nor yet, in any substantial way, the experiences in the army, could make new creatures of these men. They were afterward—they are now, especially in the chill reaction from the exuberance of that excited period—what they were before—“just folks”—good, bad, and indifferent, like the rest of us.
But there is this difference in what it means to them: They were welcomed into citizenship without the heart-breaking, gnat-straining suspicion through which, in normal times, they would have had to go if they went at all. And no politician urged or herded them into voting status and power at any stage of it. For their American citizenship and share in the common sovereignty they are under obligation to nobody. They bought what they got, as it were, with their own blood.
What intellectual preparation or textbook schooling, what weary treading of red-tape labyrinth, what minute inspection by government functionary in zealous search for undotted or uncrossed letters in a seven-year-old document, would better test or attest an alien’s capacity for citizenship, or make his induction safer for Democracy?
Anyway, these men—those not dead on foreign fields as their first, and last, service to the flag—have gone back to their communities with a new status, and, we may hope, with a new sense of their relation to and responsibility for the nation’s welfare. It remains to be seen what use they and the rest of us will make of these new things.