This is a literary tale based on my other AAR. Enjoy.
A Soldier of the American Nation
Chapter I
It’s a glorious day,” proclaimed Edward Lewis, leaning back in his chair. The August afternoon heat baked the streets of New York.
“Don’t do that,” said the figure sitting across from him.
“Don’t do what, Jonesy?”
Mark Jones gestured at the black armband with the letters NAFCP stitched in white Lewis was wearing. “Gimme a break- don’t tell me you like that scoundrel Roosevelt!”
“You’re supposed to be college-educated, Ed- you should no better than to openly support a bunch of fanatics. Roosevelt might not be perfect, but we did elect him, and…”
“What do you mean we? We were seventeen, and unless you lied about your age to get to the poll, you didn’t elect anyone and neither did I. And this whole “new deal” business? Yeah, it’s a new deal alright, and we got the short end of it- everybody did!” By now, other patrons at the café had begun to glance at the young nationalist. “Come on, we’re dead broke and FDR wants to spend even more money- this is 1935, Jonesy- the idealism is dead, everyone’s woken up and is finally starting to see the world the way it really is.”
“Quiet down, you’re making people edgy”
“Look, I got a shop to run, you know?” Edward’s father had passed away recently, and though it technically belonged to Edward’s widowed mother, Edward had been doing most of the work and handling most of the finances, working full-time, even through college. “Business is tough, there’s not much difference between me and those poor bastards out on the streets these days, to tell the truth. Yet the buffoon that America let into the White House is putting huge taxes on business now to try to help all the jobless. I don’t think it’s fair, it’s not like my store caused the whole depression, why do I get singled out?”
“We’ve all go to do our part, Ed, you know that better than anyone,” Mark replied, becoming uncomfortable with the argument.
“No, Jonesy, what I know better than anyone is that people need to take care of themselves.” Mark sighed and looked away. “Listen up, there’s an NAFCP rally next weekend, and if you want to be a limp-wrist commie then don’t bother, but if you know what’s good for you, what’s good for all of us, you’ll be there.”
The Sun had begun to set by the time they set out back home. Edward had refrained from talking more politics and the topic turned to literature and philosophy, though Mark became uneasy each time he glanced at the black armband.
As the two rounded a corner into an alleyway which they used as a shortcut to the store, they were confronted with several large policemen. The dark-blue uniformed cops all glared at Edward, who simply smiled and continued on. One of the policemen put out his night stick in front of him, halting the pair. He gestured at the armband. “What’s this then?”
“The salvation of this nation,” Edward replied, beginning to lose his positive attitude.
“What a load of shit!” scoffed another cop, stepping forward and jabbing Edward’s arm. “A bunch of stooges following around a foreigner they want as president! It’s corrupted my kids, Ned, people like this little freak! Got them talking all that political nonsense in my own house!”
The third cop nodded. “Take it off, son” he ordered.
Now becoming angry, Edward refused. The first policeman stepped forward and backhanded Lewis across the face. “Do as he says!”
Mark grabbed Lewis’ arm “Let’s go” he said, pulling Edward back towards the street. One of the police kicked him, sending him sprawling back out onto the sidewalk. A few passersby noticed the commotion and gathered around to see. Mark looked up in time to see Edward on the ground being beaten savagely. “Ed!” He shouted, leaping to his feet. He rushed towards his distressed friend and attempted to pull one of the cops away but was swiftly elbowed in the face.
Finally the brutes relented. One of them spit on the battered and nearly unconscious form of Edward Lewis, and they headed back out towards the street. Mark lifted Edward to his feet. Edward’s face was streaming with blood as he limped towards the store, leaning on his comrade’s shoulder. Neither said a word the rest of the way back. When they entered the back room of the small store, Edward collapsed on the ragged-looking thing that served as a sofa. Mark hurried to get a wet towel to wipe the dried blood from his face, which had mostly stopped bleeding.
He handed the rag to Edward, who, on the verge of losing consciousness, spoke. “Mark,” he gasped “The rally… you coming?”
Mark Jones, political moderate, hesitated. He’d never seen the police beat someone without reason, and Edward’s armband was no reason. He’d always had faith in the system, in the government but now it waned. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I’ll go”.
A Soldier of the American Nation
Chapter I
It’s a glorious day,” proclaimed Edward Lewis, leaning back in his chair. The August afternoon heat baked the streets of New York.
“Don’t do that,” said the figure sitting across from him.
“Don’t do what, Jonesy?”
Mark Jones gestured at the black armband with the letters NAFCP stitched in white Lewis was wearing. “Gimme a break- don’t tell me you like that scoundrel Roosevelt!”
“You’re supposed to be college-educated, Ed- you should no better than to openly support a bunch of fanatics. Roosevelt might not be perfect, but we did elect him, and…”
“What do you mean we? We were seventeen, and unless you lied about your age to get to the poll, you didn’t elect anyone and neither did I. And this whole “new deal” business? Yeah, it’s a new deal alright, and we got the short end of it- everybody did!” By now, other patrons at the café had begun to glance at the young nationalist. “Come on, we’re dead broke and FDR wants to spend even more money- this is 1935, Jonesy- the idealism is dead, everyone’s woken up and is finally starting to see the world the way it really is.”
“Quiet down, you’re making people edgy”
“Look, I got a shop to run, you know?” Edward’s father had passed away recently, and though it technically belonged to Edward’s widowed mother, Edward had been doing most of the work and handling most of the finances, working full-time, even through college. “Business is tough, there’s not much difference between me and those poor bastards out on the streets these days, to tell the truth. Yet the buffoon that America let into the White House is putting huge taxes on business now to try to help all the jobless. I don’t think it’s fair, it’s not like my store caused the whole depression, why do I get singled out?”
“We’ve all go to do our part, Ed, you know that better than anyone,” Mark replied, becoming uncomfortable with the argument.
“No, Jonesy, what I know better than anyone is that people need to take care of themselves.” Mark sighed and looked away. “Listen up, there’s an NAFCP rally next weekend, and if you want to be a limp-wrist commie then don’t bother, but if you know what’s good for you, what’s good for all of us, you’ll be there.”
The Sun had begun to set by the time they set out back home. Edward had refrained from talking more politics and the topic turned to literature and philosophy, though Mark became uneasy each time he glanced at the black armband.
As the two rounded a corner into an alleyway which they used as a shortcut to the store, they were confronted with several large policemen. The dark-blue uniformed cops all glared at Edward, who simply smiled and continued on. One of the policemen put out his night stick in front of him, halting the pair. He gestured at the armband. “What’s this then?”
“The salvation of this nation,” Edward replied, beginning to lose his positive attitude.
“What a load of shit!” scoffed another cop, stepping forward and jabbing Edward’s arm. “A bunch of stooges following around a foreigner they want as president! It’s corrupted my kids, Ned, people like this little freak! Got them talking all that political nonsense in my own house!”
The third cop nodded. “Take it off, son” he ordered.
Now becoming angry, Edward refused. The first policeman stepped forward and backhanded Lewis across the face. “Do as he says!”
Mark grabbed Lewis’ arm “Let’s go” he said, pulling Edward back towards the street. One of the police kicked him, sending him sprawling back out onto the sidewalk. A few passersby noticed the commotion and gathered around to see. Mark looked up in time to see Edward on the ground being beaten savagely. “Ed!” He shouted, leaping to his feet. He rushed towards his distressed friend and attempted to pull one of the cops away but was swiftly elbowed in the face.
Finally the brutes relented. One of them spit on the battered and nearly unconscious form of Edward Lewis, and they headed back out towards the street. Mark lifted Edward to his feet. Edward’s face was streaming with blood as he limped towards the store, leaning on his comrade’s shoulder. Neither said a word the rest of the way back. When they entered the back room of the small store, Edward collapsed on the ragged-looking thing that served as a sofa. Mark hurried to get a wet towel to wipe the dried blood from his face, which had mostly stopped bleeding.
He handed the rag to Edward, who, on the verge of losing consciousness, spoke. “Mark,” he gasped “The rally… you coming?”
Mark Jones, political moderate, hesitated. He’d never seen the police beat someone without reason, and Edward’s armband was no reason. He’d always had faith in the system, in the government but now it waned. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I’ll go”.