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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..276e2fb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65980 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65980) diff --git a/old/65980-0.txt b/old/65980-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 27367f3..0000000 --- a/old/65980-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,828 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Invisible Enemy, by Arnold Castle - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Invisible Enemy - -Author: Arnold Castle - -Release Date: August 2, 2021 [eBook #65980] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INVISIBLE ENEMY *** - - - - - The Invisible Enemy - - By Arnold Castle - - At fifteen he was sent to war to fight an - enemy he couldn't understand. But more puzzling - was the victory to be won--after he met defeat! - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - October 1954 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -It was the day. - -The automobile with its three passengers moved slowly along the quiet -morning street. There was no need for hurry. - -The boy's father was soberly recalling his own war experiences, -wondering how similar Tom's would be. The mother was remembering -vividly fragments of films, of facsimile reports, of forgotten -conversations, envisioning her son cringing pathetically in a shallow -foxhole as the penultimate weapon burst into grisly glory in the dark -dawn sky. Tom's own thoughts were tense, but he managed to conceal his -nervousness from his parents. - -"We're here, son," his father announced calmly, pulling the car up to -the curb. - -"Dear, can't we drive around the block just once?" his mother asked, -her voice almost a whisper. - -"We're early." - -"No, mom," Tom said crisply. He opened the door and stepped out onto -the sidewalk. - -"Want us to go in, son?" - -"No thanks, Dad." - -"But we want to, Tom," his mother said. "Of course, we'll go in!" - -"There's no need for you to. I'm already registered," he told her. He -reached out to grip his father's hand. - -"Tom!" his mother protested. - -"Don't worry about me." He kissed her hurriedly, and was relieved when -his father drove away without waiting for him to start up the steps. -He knew that they would worry, and he turned abruptly, forcing his -attention away. - -The day was bright and a chill breeze swept in from the Pacific. Atop -a distant hill eucalyptus glimmered in the white sunlight. Inscribed -over the portal of the modest building which he now faced were the -words: - - DEPARTMENT OF PEACE - "THAT THE AGE OF - VIOLENCE MAY FOREVER - REMAIN HISTORY" - - * * * * * - -Bullets splattered into the mound in front of the foxhole, sending a -dense spray of dust and gravel into the pit. Tom spit out the mouthful -of dirt and cursed. - -"They comin'?" the soldier next to him asked, waking slightly. - -"No." Tom told him gloomily. "But they know where we are." - -"Maybe they'll try mortar. Think they'll try mortar?" - -Tom shrugged. "Go on back to sleep. I'm watching." - -The other was several years older than he, and a corporal, but not very -bright. Still, it was better than being alone. The worst thing he could -imagine was having to face the enemy utterly alone. If only he could -remember what the enemy looked like, it would not be so bad. - -He forgot so much. Sometimes it seemed like he had been in combat just -a few days. But other times it felt like he had been up there forever, -waiting, moving forward, moving backward, thinking that at last he -was beginning to get the picture, but not sure, never sure, never sure -of _anything_. If only he could recall something beside the immediate -present. Then maybe the situation would start to make a little sense. - -He knew why he was fighting, vaguely. It was to safeguard certain -inalienable rights, which ones he could not exactly remember. The odd -thing was that the enemy was fighting for the same goal--he sensed that -intuitively. But who _was_ the enemy? He thought he had known once, but -that had been quite a while ago. What did they look like? He would have -to ask someone. - -An infrared flare blossomed some distance down the valley. Tom adjusted -his binoculars and scanned the slope. Nothing. Remotely the monotonous -rumble of atomic artillery began pounding through the night. From far -away echoed the transient whisper of a jet. - -Now his legs were beginning to get cramped. That happened every night, -and he knew that no matter which way he bent them the pain would -continue to grow. However, there was always the consolation that toward -morning they would become numb. - -He opened his one remaining ration can, tore back the layers of -thermofoil insulation, and started devouring the warm lamb stew. The -dull staccato of automatic fire commenced far down the valley. Somebody -screamed. - -Tom contemplated his own flashless weapon, trying to recall what he -had been taught about its principle of expulsion. That had been so far -back. A year? Two? He did not remember. - -It was time for the corporal to take over the watch, but Tom decided -to give him another ten minutes. Wearily, he raised the binoculars to -his eyes, pushed the switch. The battery was about exhausted and he -replaced it. Overhead a flare was drifting downward, and he watched as -it illuminated the murky battle ground. - - * * * * * - -"Light up!" the platoon sergeant growled. - -The troops had been waiting for a quarter of an hour beside the -road. Tom had long since learned the futility of speculation. But -conversation was vital and there had to be a topic. - -"Maybe they're trying to get trucks for us," he muttered to the soldier -next to him. - -"Maybe they're plannin' a picnic for us," the other suggested. - -"Trucks. Picnics. You guys make everything too complicated," a third -soldier remarked. "Every time something happens you figure out a -different reason for it. Not me. The way I see it, there's just one -cause for everything they tell us to do or don't do, say or don't say, -think or don't think. And that's _discipline_. Look at it that way and -you're always one ahead of 'em." - -"I like the idea of a picnic," the other replied obstinately. "Only -it's supposed to be a surprise, and _that's_ why they don't tell us -nothin." - -"Okay, you guys. Strip those butts!" - -Tom hoisted the straps of his pack onto his aching shoulders and fell -into file behind the other two. The heel of his left boot was wearing -badly and he could sense the strain on his ankle. He tried placing his -weight on the ball of his foot, but that made him limp. Then he had no -time for concern with small discomforts, for the column was scattering -at the distant whoosh of jets. - -Tom, however, got no farther than the ditch. - -The soldier who liked picnics had stumbled onto a discarded recoilless -rifle shell ten feet from the road. It exploded at the contact. Tom -did not hear the jets roar past, for the pain that had burst in his -leg was deafening. Momentarily he experienced a curious detached -awareness of both the agony of the wound and the contortions into which -he was throwing his body. Then he collapsed on the weed-matted gravel, -unconscious. - -He woke to find two medical aid men seated beside him. The pain had -lessened and the wound was all but covered. He watched furtively as a -corporal completed the job of daubing the gummy white substance from a -freshly opened can of plastoderm into a raw gash below his right knee. -He hoped none of the ligaments had been torn, since they would take a -lot longer to evolve from the undifferentiated surrogate than would -the rest of the tissues. Tentatively he flexed his foot muscles; they -seemed all right. - -"Just lean back, buddy. You're okay, now," he was informed. - -"How about the jets? We hit any of them?" he asked. - -"Couldn't tell, but I don't think so. They got what they were after, -though." - -"Yeah? What was that?" - -"Convoy of trucks comin' to pick us up. That's what I hear, anyway." - -Tom was silent for a while. Then he asked: "I'm not going to have any -trouble with that, am I?" - -"No, but take it easy for the next couple of days. I'll put a bandage -on it, but it takes time for that stuff to gel." - -He went to work on the bandage, while his companion started packing up -the apparatus. Five minutes later they had gone. - -Tom lay thinking. None of his questions had yet been answered. He still -could not think coherently about even the recent past. And nobody -had been able to state clearly just whom they were fighting, though -everyone agreed on the motives for the war: they were defending freedom -against tyranny--it was as simple and as basic as that. However, it -somehow left Tom unsatisfied. - -"Well, what did I tell you?" the soldier next to him remarked. -"Discipline. No trucks. No picnic. Just discipline. Say, how about a -cigarette. I must have dropped mine in the scramble." - -"Sure." Tom threw him a mashed, half-empty pack. - -"Hey, thanks." He lit one, carefully buttoning the rest in a pocket of -his fatigue jacket. "Thanks a lot." - -"Okay, you guys," came the hoarse command. "Strip them butts! We're -movin'." - -"Discipline," the soldier muttered bitterly, crushing the cigarette -into the gravel. "Discipline." - - * * * * * - -The night was quiet, too quiet. There were remote and occasional -atomic artillery bursts. But no other noise. - -The two other members of the patrol were immediately ahead of Tom. -But they progressed slowly and made little sound. Tom crept forward a -single notch, looking up only when he had sunk again into the grass. -On either side there was nothing but blackness. Once more he squirmed -forward with his boots and forearms. Still there was only the quiet and -darkness of night. He lay there for a while, waiting and wondering. - -He had ceased pondering those questions which had most concerned him -during the earlier days. Now he asked himself only when would it be -over. Nothing else any longer seemed to matter. But more and more -frequently there had come to his mind a single irrelevant memory. It -was an image of a clear day, of a cool breeze off the ocean, of a crest -of green and gold eucalyptus on a faraway hill. It had something to -do with home. But that was all he knew of it, and it was all he could -recall of home. - -A burst of flashless automatic fire from somewhere up the ridge brought -a scream from the soldier in front of him and sent him writhing down -the slope. Tom lowered himself till he was on a level with the sight -of his carbine, then started scanning the rise. A moment later he -spotted the greenish glow of the sniper's infrared beam, and flipping -the safety onto automatic, he squeezed the trigger. Rapidly he replaced -the clip and waited. After several moments, he uncautiously flooded the -terrain with his own light. A mere hundred feet away was a sprawling -greenish form. One of the enemy. A good and dead one. - -It was ten minutes before he heard the remaining member of the patrol -working his way back. - -"Good boy!" came a whisper. "You got him." - -"What about--" - -"What do _you_ think?" - -"Are we going back?" - -"Sure. There ain't no troops up there. That's what we came to find out. -Maybe a few snipers is all." - -They started crawling the way they had come. But this time it was more -tedious because of the abrasions and bruises that had been incurred. -Dawn was a pastey gray in the sky behind them when they at last neared -the lines. - -"Something funny," the sergeant muttered suspiciously, rising to his -knees. - -"What's wrong," Tom asked wearily. - -"I don't know. Wait here." Tom waited till the sky threatened to become -light, then began following. He continued along the route which he felt -must lead to the lines, but after some minutes began to feel a sense -of panic. The landmarks were all wrong and the cloud-strewn sky gave -no indication of direction. Then, from the other side of a low, rocky -hillock came the unmistakable sound of approaching troops. Running -forward to the edge, he stopped abruptly as he found himself face to -face with the enemy. - -Suddenly all the hate and guilt he had ever known exploded into his -awareness. The face before him was a meaningless blur, but he did not -need to know the enemy to loathe him. His carbine was in his hands, the -safety off, the barrel lowered, the trigger squeezed--but the rifle -failed to fire. - -The cry of the enemy was a wordless oath of anger, the bayonet a -glinting sliver of death, the pain in his side the ultimate peak of -agony. But as he fell back onto the rocks, he sensed something beyond -rage in the bright young eyes of his destroyer. He sensed hope--the -possibility of peace and even of happiness--for those anger-maddened -eyes had been his own. - - * * * * * - -He woke upon a bed in a small white-walled room. It was too soon yet to -try to think things over. So he consciously relaxed and contemplated -such immediate and basic pleasures as breathing and observing the -distant sun-gilt eucalyptus through the single broad window. For the -present, the experience of life itself was sufficient. - -When at last an attendant entered, followed by a nurse, Tom felt like -talking. He was frustrated in this by a thermometer, which the woman -allowed to remain in his mouth throughout the entire check-up. When she -had finally concluded her routine, Tom said: "I'm feeling pretty good, -doctor. Is it all right if I leave?" - -"I'm just a mere psychotechnician," the man smiled. "You'll have to -check with Miss Laughton." - -"Fit as a fiddle," the nurse responded, gathering up her equipment. - -"My bayonet wound okay?" Tom asked anxiously, and was immediately -startled to find he could refer to the incident with amusement. - -"It is if you can talk about it," she replied with a flicker of -sympathy on her dry expressionless face. - -"So it was a bayonet," the man commented after the nurse had left. -"That's quite rare, you know. Usually it's a bullet or a shell -fragment." - -"Don't you decide--I mean, don't you set it all up beforehand?" - -"Oh, no. Electrohypnosis merely instigates certain motivational and -situational patterns. The instrumentation and environment is entirely -the product of your own personality. The more feasible, consistent -and coherent the subjective aspects, the more adaptable, rational and -stable must be the subject." - -"What about the bayonet?" - -"You chose that, I would suppose, because you not only weren't afraid -of meeting the enemy, but actually wanted to. We'll go into that later. -Now I want you to relate everything you can remember." - -Tom waited while the other set up a recorder. It took less than twenty -minutes to narrate every detail he could recall. - -"Well that'll be enough for today. We do want you to report back in a -week or so, just to find out how this affects your normal activities. -The receptionist will make an appointment for you. Your clothes are in -the closet." - -Tom dressed and started along the corridor, stopping only once for a -brief glimpse of the machine which had been his battleground. A boy he -had seen occasionally at school was approaching, and they nodded at one -another. - -"You been through it?" the boy asked. - -"Yeh," Tom told him, a little uneasily. - -"I'm just going in. How is it?" Tom noticed the other boy's collar was -damp with perspiration and his eyes were somewhat watery. "Is it pretty -rough?" - -"Well, it's--" Tom returned uncomfortably. "It's just like war." - - * * * * * - -He turned away as the other winced and swallowed nervously. The -receptionist made his appointment and he strode to the doorway. -Already the horrors of a mere hour before seemed years in the past, -and he wondered, as he proceeded down the steps into the same bright -day he had left so long ago, how those vague and distant imaginings -could possibly affect his future behavior. He readily admitted that he -would be far less inclined to defend the concept of war than he would -have been earlier. But surely it was possible that, under certain -conditions, he might find himself in a situation where he had no -alternative to violence. Those who had been through it never seemed to -get into fights like other kids did, but that could be simply a matter -of growing up. - -Then why, he wondered, was electrohypnosis universally required and the -keystone of the armistice which had concluded the Third World War? With -the exception of a few thoroughly socialized individuals whose capacity -for occasional force was necessary to the maintenance of law and -order, every male human being of fifteen underwent the experience. So -there must be some aspect of its consequences which he had overlooked. - -For some reason a memory of three small boys playing soldier on -an autumn dusk slipped in among his thoughts. How disenchantingly -different had been the unreal realism of the dream. With an amused -start it occurred to him that the same genuine Captain America Infrared -Electronic Sniperkit that had seen him through those childhood -skirmishes had accompanied him into combat that morning. And for an -instant he wondered if such a thing as an infrared flare actually did -exist. - -Stepping onto the sidewalk, he turned toward home. He would be there -in just a little over three hours after his parents had left him. -They could not have worried too much in so short a period. Still, he -decided, it would be best to call them. Everyone had heard rumors of -subjects coming out of electrohypnosis with psychosomatic or neurotic -after effects. And, while these had been authoritatively discounted, it -would be typical of his mother to imagine her son the exception. - -There was a drugstore on the next corner and Tom headed toward it. -He did not notice the two younger school acquaintances until they had -crossed the street and halted in his path. He had never been on cordial -terms with either of them, and was in no mood for their banter today. - -"Well, look who's back from the wars!" the more aggressive of the pair -exclaimed. "Where's your medals, Colonel?" - -"Yeah!" the other gibed. "And what happened to your crutches?" - -Tom regretted very much not having left the building by a rear exit. -Their reaction to meeting him in that manner, considering their -determination not to exhibit any anxiety over their own imminent -ordeals, was bound to be antagonistic. However, his own responses had -not yet stabilized adequately following the experience to permit much -tolerance. He ignored them and started on. - -"Come on, Tom," the first persisted, stepping swiftly into his path. -"Tell us about it. How many of 'em did you get?" - -"Bet he didn't get any. Bet he just buried himself in his foxhole till -it was all over. Bet he was scared stiff." - -"Naw, not the Colonel. He was out there in front all the time. Weren't -you, Colonel?" - -Irritation flamed into anger. Raising his hand, he was about to push -them aside when the hot searing pain of the bayonet struck him, hurling -him back against the wall. For an uncomprehending moment he leaned -immobile, his mouth gaping, his eyes awed. Then, realizing the only -way out, he relaxed. The agony subsided and vanished. So _that_ was -it, he thought bitterly. So _that_ was the ultimate weapon--not the -indoctrination. For the rest of his life he was to be burdened with the -possibility of that vivid torture whenever he so much as considered -using force. - -The boys had backed away apprehensively, and now were moving on down -the street with frequent backward glances. It made no difference to -him. For the present, they were of another age, an age of violence, an -age which he had outgrown. - -The drugstore was crowded, but Tom made his way toward the rear -without noticing the customers. His thoughts were soberly and intently -focused on the future. Perhaps, he considered, by the time his great -grandchildren were men a way of life would have been created which -involved neither the inevitability of war nor the alternate necessity -for an invisible, poised bayonet. And so far as his own life was -concerned, if the latter meant that he could return home, instead of -trudging back to the barracks, then he accepted it gracefully. The -price of peace was bound to be high, he reflected, since man had never -before been able to afford it. - -Sliding into the phonebooth and pushing a coin into the slot, Tom began -dialing. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INVISIBLE ENEMY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Invisible Enemy</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Arnold Castle</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 2, 2021 [eBook #65980]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INVISIBLE ENEMY ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>The Invisible Enemy</h1> - -<h2>By Arnold Castle</h2> - -<p>At fifteen he was sent to war to fight an<br /> -enemy he couldn't understand. But more puzzling<br /> -was the victory to be won—after he met defeat!</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -October 1954<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>It was the day.</p> - -<p>The automobile with its three passengers moved slowly along the quiet -morning street. There was no need for hurry.</p> - -<p>The boy's father was soberly recalling his own war experiences, -wondering how similar Tom's would be. The mother was remembering -vividly fragments of films, of facsimile reports, of forgotten -conversations, envisioning her son cringing pathetically in a shallow -foxhole as the penultimate weapon burst into grisly glory in the dark -dawn sky. Tom's own thoughts were tense, but he managed to conceal his -nervousness from his parents.</p> - -<p>"We're here, son," his father announced calmly, pulling the car up to -the curb.</p> - -<p>"Dear, can't we drive around the block just once?" his mother asked, -her voice almost a whisper.</p> - -<p>"We're early."</p> - -<p>"No, mom," Tom said crisply. He opened the door and stepped out onto -the sidewalk.</p> - -<p>"Want us to go in, son?"</p> - -<p>"No thanks, Dad."</p> - -<p>"But we want to, Tom," his mother said. "Of course, we'll go in!"</p> - -<p>"There's no need for you to. I'm already registered," he told her. He -reached out to grip his father's hand.</p> - -<p>"Tom!" his mother protested.</p> - -<p>"Don't worry about me." He kissed her hurriedly, and was relieved when -his father drove away without waiting for him to start up the steps. -He knew that they would worry, and he turned abruptly, forcing his -attention away.</p> - -<p>The day was bright and a chill breeze swept in from the Pacific. Atop -a distant hill eucalyptus glimmered in the white sunlight. Inscribed -over the portal of the modest building which he now faced were the -words:</p> - -<p class="ph1">DEPARTMENT OF PEACE<br /> -"THAT THE AGE OF<br /> -VIOLENCE MAY FOREVER<br /> -REMAIN HISTORY"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Bullets splattered into the mound in front of the foxhole, sending a -dense spray of dust and gravel into the pit. Tom spit out the mouthful -of dirt and cursed.</p> - -<p>"They comin'?" the soldier next to him asked, waking slightly.</p> - -<p>"No." Tom told him gloomily. "But they know where we are."</p> - -<p>"Maybe they'll try mortar. Think they'll try mortar?"</p> - -<p>Tom shrugged. "Go on back to sleep. I'm watching."</p> - -<p>The other was several years older than he, and a corporal, but not very -bright. Still, it was better than being alone. The worst thing he could -imagine was having to face the enemy utterly alone. If only he could -remember what the enemy looked like, it would not be so bad.</p> - -<p>He forgot so much. Sometimes it seemed like he had been in combat just -a few days. But other times it felt like he had been up there forever, -waiting, moving forward, moving backward, thinking that at last he -was beginning to get the picture, but not sure, never sure, never sure -of <i>anything</i>. If only he could recall something beside the immediate -present. Then maybe the situation would start to make a little sense.</p> - -<p>He knew why he was fighting, vaguely. It was to safeguard certain -inalienable rights, which ones he could not exactly remember. The odd -thing was that the enemy was fighting for the same goal—he sensed that -intuitively. But who <i>was</i> the enemy? He thought he had known once, but -that had been quite a while ago. What did they look like? He would have -to ask someone.</p> - -<p>An infrared flare blossomed some distance down the valley. Tom adjusted -his binoculars and scanned the slope. Nothing. Remotely the monotonous -rumble of atomic artillery began pounding through the night. From far -away echoed the transient whisper of a jet.</p> - -<p>Now his legs were beginning to get cramped. That happened every night, -and he knew that no matter which way he bent them the pain would -continue to grow. However, there was always the consolation that toward -morning they would become numb.</p> - -<p>He opened his one remaining ration can, tore back the layers of -thermofoil insulation, and started devouring the warm lamb stew. The -dull staccato of automatic fire commenced far down the valley. Somebody -screamed.</p> - -<p>Tom contemplated his own flashless weapon, trying to recall what he -had been taught about its principle of expulsion. That had been so far -back. A year? Two? He did not remember.</p> - -<p>It was time for the corporal to take over the watch, but Tom decided -to give him another ten minutes. Wearily, he raised the binoculars to -his eyes, pushed the switch. The battery was about exhausted and he -replaced it. Overhead a flare was drifting downward, and he watched as -it illuminated the murky battle ground.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Light up!" the platoon sergeant growled.</p> - -<p>The troops had been waiting for a quarter of an hour beside the -road. Tom had long since learned the futility of speculation. But -conversation was vital and there had to be a topic.</p> - -<p>"Maybe they're trying to get trucks for us," he muttered to the soldier -next to him.</p> - -<p>"Maybe they're plannin' a picnic for us," the other suggested.</p> - -<p>"Trucks. Picnics. You guys make everything too complicated," a third -soldier remarked. "Every time something happens you figure out a -different reason for it. Not me. The way I see it, there's just one -cause for everything they tell us to do or don't do, say or don't say, -think or don't think. And that's <i>discipline</i>. Look at it that way and -you're always one ahead of 'em."</p> - -<p>"I like the idea of a picnic," the other replied obstinately. "Only -it's supposed to be a surprise, and <i>that's</i> why they don't tell us -nothin."</p> - -<p>"Okay, you guys. Strip those butts!"</p> - -<p>Tom hoisted the straps of his pack onto his aching shoulders and fell -into file behind the other two. The heel of his left boot was wearing -badly and he could sense the strain on his ankle. He tried placing his -weight on the ball of his foot, but that made him limp. Then he had no -time for concern with small discomforts, for the column was scattering -at the distant whoosh of jets.</p> - -<p>Tom, however, got no farther than the ditch.</p> - -<p>The soldier who liked picnics had stumbled onto a discarded recoilless -rifle shell ten feet from the road. It exploded at the contact. Tom -did not hear the jets roar past, for the pain that had burst in his -leg was deafening. Momentarily he experienced a curious detached -awareness of both the agony of the wound and the contortions into which -he was throwing his body. Then he collapsed on the weed-matted gravel, -unconscious.</p> - -<p>He woke to find two medical aid men seated beside him. The pain had -lessened and the wound was all but covered. He watched furtively as a -corporal completed the job of daubing the gummy white substance from a -freshly opened can of plastoderm into a raw gash below his right knee. -He hoped none of the ligaments had been torn, since they would take a -lot longer to evolve from the undifferentiated surrogate than would -the rest of the tissues. Tentatively he flexed his foot muscles; they -seemed all right.</p> - -<p>"Just lean back, buddy. You're okay, now," he was informed.</p> - -<p>"How about the jets? We hit any of them?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Couldn't tell, but I don't think so. They got what they were after, -though."</p> - -<p>"Yeah? What was that?"</p> - -<p>"Convoy of trucks comin' to pick us up. That's what I hear, anyway."</p> - -<p>Tom was silent for a while. Then he asked: "I'm not going to have any -trouble with that, am I?"</p> - -<p>"No, but take it easy for the next couple of days. I'll put a bandage -on it, but it takes time for that stuff to gel."</p> - -<p>He went to work on the bandage, while his companion started packing up -the apparatus. Five minutes later they had gone.</p> - -<p>Tom lay thinking. None of his questions had yet been answered. He still -could not think coherently about even the recent past. And nobody -had been able to state clearly just whom they were fighting, though -everyone agreed on the motives for the war: they were defending freedom -against tyranny—it was as simple and as basic as that. However, it -somehow left Tom unsatisfied.</p> - -<p>"Well, what did I tell you?" the soldier next to him remarked. -"Discipline. No trucks. No picnic. Just discipline. Say, how about a -cigarette. I must have dropped mine in the scramble."</p> - -<p>"Sure." Tom threw him a mashed, half-empty pack.</p> - -<p>"Hey, thanks." He lit one, carefully buttoning the rest in a pocket of -his fatigue jacket. "Thanks a lot."</p> - -<p>"Okay, you guys," came the hoarse command. "Strip them butts! We're -movin'."</p> - -<p>"Discipline," the soldier muttered bitterly, crushing the cigarette -into the gravel. "Discipline."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The night was quiet, too quiet. There were remote and occasional -atomic artillery bursts. But no other noise.</p> - -<p>The two other members of the patrol were immediately ahead of Tom. -But they progressed slowly and made little sound. Tom crept forward a -single notch, looking up only when he had sunk again into the grass. -On either side there was nothing but blackness. Once more he squirmed -forward with his boots and forearms. Still there was only the quiet and -darkness of night. He lay there for a while, waiting and wondering.</p> - -<p>He had ceased pondering those questions which had most concerned him -during the earlier days. Now he asked himself only when would it be -over. Nothing else any longer seemed to matter. But more and more -frequently there had come to his mind a single irrelevant memory. It -was an image of a clear day, of a cool breeze off the ocean, of a crest -of green and gold eucalyptus on a faraway hill. It had something to -do with home. But that was all he knew of it, and it was all he could -recall of home.</p> - -<p>A burst of flashless automatic fire from somewhere up the ridge brought -a scream from the soldier in front of him and sent him writhing down -the slope. Tom lowered himself till he was on a level with the sight -of his carbine, then started scanning the rise. A moment later he -spotted the greenish glow of the sniper's infrared beam, and flipping -the safety onto automatic, he squeezed the trigger. Rapidly he replaced -the clip and waited. After several moments, he uncautiously flooded the -terrain with his own light. A mere hundred feet away was a sprawling -greenish form. One of the enemy. A good and dead one.</p> - -<p>It was ten minutes before he heard the remaining member of the patrol -working his way back.</p> - -<p>"Good boy!" came a whisper. "You got him."</p> - -<p>"What about—"</p> - -<p>"What do <i>you</i> think?"</p> - -<p>"Are we going back?"</p> - -<p>"Sure. There ain't no troops up there. That's what we came to find out. -Maybe a few snipers is all."</p> - -<p>They started crawling the way they had come. But this time it was more -tedious because of the abrasions and bruises that had been incurred. -Dawn was a pastey gray in the sky behind them when they at last neared -the lines.</p> - -<p>"Something funny," the sergeant muttered suspiciously, rising to his -knees.</p> - -<p>"What's wrong," Tom asked wearily.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Wait here." Tom waited till the sky threatened to become -light, then began following. He continued along the route which he felt -must lead to the lines, but after some minutes began to feel a sense -of panic. The landmarks were all wrong and the cloud-strewn sky gave -no indication of direction. Then, from the other side of a low, rocky -hillock came the unmistakable sound of approaching troops. Running -forward to the edge, he stopped abruptly as he found himself face to -face with the enemy.</p> - -<p>Suddenly all the hate and guilt he had ever known exploded into his -awareness. The face before him was a meaningless blur, but he did not -need to know the enemy to loathe him. His carbine was in his hands, the -safety off, the barrel lowered, the trigger squeezed—but the rifle -failed to fire.</p> - -<p>The cry of the enemy was a wordless oath of anger, the bayonet a -glinting sliver of death, the pain in his side the ultimate peak of -agony. But as he fell back onto the rocks, he sensed something beyond -rage in the bright young eyes of his destroyer. He sensed hope—the -possibility of peace and even of happiness—for those anger-maddened -eyes had been his own.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He woke upon a bed in a small white-walled room. It was too soon yet to -try to think things over. So he consciously relaxed and contemplated -such immediate and basic pleasures as breathing and observing the -distant sun-gilt eucalyptus through the single broad window. For the -present, the experience of life itself was sufficient.</p> - -<p>When at last an attendant entered, followed by a nurse, Tom felt like -talking. He was frustrated in this by a thermometer, which the woman -allowed to remain in his mouth throughout the entire check-up. When she -had finally concluded her routine, Tom said: "I'm feeling pretty good, -doctor. Is it all right if I leave?"</p> - -<p>"I'm just a mere psychotechnician," the man smiled. "You'll have to -check with Miss Laughton."</p> - -<p>"Fit as a fiddle," the nurse responded, gathering up her equipment.</p> - -<p>"My bayonet wound okay?" Tom asked anxiously, and was immediately -startled to find he could refer to the incident with amusement.</p> - -<p>"It is if you can talk about it," she replied with a flicker of -sympathy on her dry expressionless face.</p> - -<p>"So it was a bayonet," the man commented after the nurse had left. -"That's quite rare, you know. Usually it's a bullet or a shell -fragment."</p> - -<p>"Don't you decide—I mean, don't you set it all up beforehand?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no. Electrohypnosis merely instigates certain motivational and -situational patterns. The instrumentation and environment is entirely -the product of your own personality. The more feasible, consistent -and coherent the subjective aspects, the more adaptable, rational and -stable must be the subject."</p> - -<p>"What about the bayonet?"</p> - -<p>"You chose that, I would suppose, because you not only weren't afraid -of meeting the enemy, but actually wanted to. We'll go into that later. -Now I want you to relate everything you can remember."</p> - -<p>Tom waited while the other set up a recorder. It took less than twenty -minutes to narrate every detail he could recall.</p> - -<p>"Well that'll be enough for today. We do want you to report back in a -week or so, just to find out how this affects your normal activities. -The receptionist will make an appointment for you. Your clothes are in -the closet."</p> - -<p>Tom dressed and started along the corridor, stopping only once for a -brief glimpse of the machine which had been his battleground. A boy he -had seen occasionally at school was approaching, and they nodded at one -another.</p> - -<p>"You been through it?" the boy asked.</p> - -<p>"Yeh," Tom told him, a little uneasily.</p> - -<p>"I'm just going in. How is it?" Tom noticed the other boy's collar was -damp with perspiration and his eyes were somewhat watery. "Is it pretty -rough?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it's—" Tom returned uncomfortably. "It's just like war."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He turned away as the other winced and swallowed nervously. The -receptionist made his appointment and he strode to the doorway. -Already the horrors of a mere hour before seemed years in the past, -and he wondered, as he proceeded down the steps into the same bright -day he had left so long ago, how those vague and distant imaginings -could possibly affect his future behavior. He readily admitted that he -would be far less inclined to defend the concept of war than he would -have been earlier. But surely it was possible that, under certain -conditions, he might find himself in a situation where he had no -alternative to violence. Those who had been through it never seemed to -get into fights like other kids did, but that could be simply a matter -of growing up.</p> - -<p>Then why, he wondered, was electrohypnosis universally required and the -keystone of the armistice which had concluded the Third World War? With -the exception of a few thoroughly socialized individuals whose capacity -for occasional force was necessary to the maintenance of law and -order, every male human being of fifteen underwent the experience. So -there must be some aspect of its consequences which he had overlooked.</p> - -<p>For some reason a memory of three small boys playing soldier on -an autumn dusk slipped in among his thoughts. How disenchantingly -different had been the unreal realism of the dream. With an amused -start it occurred to him that the same genuine Captain America Infrared -Electronic Sniperkit that had seen him through those childhood -skirmishes had accompanied him into combat that morning. And for an -instant he wondered if such a thing as an infrared flare actually did -exist.</p> - -<p>Stepping onto the sidewalk, he turned toward home. He would be there -in just a little over three hours after his parents had left him. -They could not have worried too much in so short a period. Still, he -decided, it would be best to call them. Everyone had heard rumors of -subjects coming out of electrohypnosis with psychosomatic or neurotic -after effects. And, while these had been authoritatively discounted, it -would be typical of his mother to imagine her son the exception.</p> - -<p>There was a drugstore on the next corner and Tom headed toward it. -He did not notice the two younger school acquaintances until they had -crossed the street and halted in his path. He had never been on cordial -terms with either of them, and was in no mood for their banter today.</p> - -<p>"Well, look who's back from the wars!" the more aggressive of the pair -exclaimed. "Where's your medals, Colonel?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah!" the other gibed. "And what happened to your crutches?"</p> - -<p>Tom regretted very much not having left the building by a rear exit. -Their reaction to meeting him in that manner, considering their -determination not to exhibit any anxiety over their own imminent -ordeals, was bound to be antagonistic. However, his own responses had -not yet stabilized adequately following the experience to permit much -tolerance. He ignored them and started on.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Tom," the first persisted, stepping swiftly into his path. -"Tell us about it. How many of 'em did you get?"</p> - -<p>"Bet he didn't get any. Bet he just buried himself in his foxhole till -it was all over. Bet he was scared stiff."</p> - -<p>"Naw, not the Colonel. He was out there in front all the time. Weren't -you, Colonel?"</p> - -<p>Irritation flamed into anger. Raising his hand, he was about to push -them aside when the hot searing pain of the bayonet struck him, hurling -him back against the wall. For an uncomprehending moment he leaned -immobile, his mouth gaping, his eyes awed. Then, realizing the only -way out, he relaxed. The agony subsided and vanished. So <i>that</i> was -it, he thought bitterly. So <i>that</i> was the ultimate weapon—not the -indoctrination. For the rest of his life he was to be burdened with the -possibility of that vivid torture whenever he so much as considered -using force.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>The boys had backed away apprehensively, and now were moving on down -the street with frequent backward glances. It made no difference to -him. For the present, they were of another age, an age of violence, an -age which he had outgrown.</p> - -<p>The drugstore was crowded, but Tom made his way toward the rear -without noticing the customers. His thoughts were soberly and intently -focused on the future. Perhaps, he considered, by the time his great -grandchildren were men a way of life would have been created which -involved neither the inevitability of war nor the alternate necessity -for an invisible, poised bayonet. And so far as his own life was -concerned, if the latter meant that he could return home, instead of -trudging back to the barracks, then he accepted it gracefully. The -price of peace was bound to be high, he reflected, since man had never -before been able to afford it.</p> - -<p>Sliding into the phonebooth and pushing a coin into the slot, Tom began -dialing.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INVISIBLE ENEMY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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