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                         Transcriber's Note:

    This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction June 1954.
    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
    copyright on this publication was renewed.


                            [Illustration]


                    _The Ordeal of_ COLONEL JOHNS


                          By George H. Smith


                    Illustrated by Rudolph Palais


     _Colonel Johns, that famous Revolutionary War hero, had the
      unique--and painful--experience of meeting his
      great-great-great-great granddaughter. Now maybe you can't
      change history, but what's there to prevent a soldier from
      changing his mind about the gal he is going to marry?_

       *       *       *       *       *




Clark Decker winced and scrounged still lower in his seat as Mrs.
Appleby-Simpkin rested her enormous bosom on the front of the podium
and smiled down on the Patriot Daughters of America in convention
assembled as she announced: "And now, my dears, I will read you one
more short quotation from Major Wicks' fascinating book 'The Minor
Tactics of The American Revolution.' When I am finished, I know that
you will all agree that Rebecca Johns-Hayes will be a more than
fitting successor to myself as your President."

Decker looked wildly about for a way of escape from the convention
auditorium. If he had only remained in the anteroom with Professor
MacCulloch and the Historical Reintegrator! After suffering through
four days of speeches by ladies in various stages of mammalian
top-heaviness, he hadn't believed it possible that anyone could top
Mrs. Appleby-Simpkin for either sheer ability to bore or for the
nobility of her bust. Mrs. Rebecca Johns-Hayes had come as something
of a shock as she squirmed her way onto the speaker's platform. But
there she was as big as life, or rather bigger, smiling at Mrs.
Appleby-Simpkin, the Past President, beaming at Mrs. Lynd-Torris, a
defeated candidate for the presidency and whose ancestor had been only
a captain, and completely ignoring Mrs. Tolman, the other defeated
candidate whose ancestor had been so inconsiderate as to have been a
Continental sergeant. Only the thought that now that the voting was
over and the new president chosen, the ladies might be ready for the
demonstration of the Reintegrator had brought Decker onto the
convention floor, and now he was trapped and would have to listen.

"And so," Mrs. Appleby-Simpkin was reading, "upon such small events do
the great moments of history depend. The brilliant scouting and
skirmishing of the riflemen under Colonel Peter Johns prevented the
breakthrough of Captain Fosdick's column and the possible flanking of
the American army before Saratoga. Thus, this little known action may
have been the deciding factor in the whole campaign that prevented
General Burgoyne from carrying out the British plan to divide the
colonies and end the war. It is impossible for the historian to
refrain from speculation as to what might have happened had Colonel
Johns not been on hand to direct the riflemen and militia in this
section; as indeed he might _not_ have been, since his own regiment of
short-term enlistees had returned to Pennsylvania a few days
previously. Only the Colonel's patriotism and devotion to duty kept
him in the field and made his abilities available to the country when
they were most needed."

Mrs. Appleby-Simpkin waited until the burst of applause
had died down and then continued, "That is the man whose
great-great-great-great-granddaughter you have elected your
president today ... Mrs. Rebecca Johns-Hayes!" Turning to Mrs.
Johns-Hayes she went on, "Before you make your acceptance speech,
dear, we have a little surprise for you."

Clark Decker had been edging his way toward the side of the auditorium
where the Men's Auxiliary of the Daughters had their seats but he
turned back at the mention of the surprise. It sounded as though it
was time for him and the Professor to start their demonstration.

"A surprise which we hope will also be a surprise to the whole world
of science," Mrs. Appleby-Simpkin was holding the podium against a
determinedly advancing Mrs. Johns-Hayes. "Indeed we may be able to say
in future years, that the 1989 Convention of the Patriot Daughters was
marked by the first public demonstration of one of the most momentous
inventions in the history of science." The Past President was speaking
faster and faster, because the new President with a hand full of notes
was doing her best to edge her away from both the podium and the
microphone.

"Thank you, darling," Mrs. Johns-Hayes said, pulling the microphone
firmly toward her, "but we really must get along with business. I have
quite a few things I want to say and several motions which I want to
place before the Convention."

"And as I was saying, dear," Mrs. Appleby-Simpkin said, pulling the
microphone back with equal firmness, "I know that you will be just
unbearably thrilled." There was another brief struggle for the mike and
Mrs. Appleby-Simpkin won and went on. "I know that he will be just as
proud of you as you are of him. That is why we have arranged for Professor
MacCulloch to demonstrate his historical Reintegrator at our convention by
bringing into our midst Colonel Peter Johns, the hero of the action at
Temple Farm, to see his great-great-great-great-granddaughter installed as
the fifty-fourth president of the Loyal Order of Patriot Daughters of
America. Now I...." Mrs. Johns-Hayes again won control of the mike.

"Thank you very much, dear." Her voice was a genteel screech. "I'm
sure that we will be only too glad to have the ... who? Who did you
say?" Mrs. Appleby-Simpkin regained the microphone from the other
woman's relaxing grip.

"I believe I see Mr. Decker, the Professor's assistant, in the
audience," she said. "Will you be so good as to tell the Professor
that we are ready for his epic-making experiment?"

With a great feeling of relief, Decker escaped from the rising turmoil
of the convention hall into the relative quiet of the anteroom where
MacCulloch waited with the Reintegrator. He found the Professor
sitting with his head in his hands staring at the machine. The little
man looked up and smiled quizzically as his assistant approached him.

"They're ready, Professor! They're ready!" Still under the influence
of the convention, Decker found himself shouting.

"Ah. Ah, yes. Then it will be today. I've waited so long. Ten years of
work and now instead of a scientific gathering, I have to demonstrate
my machine before a woman's club."

       *       *       *       *       *

Decker began to wheel the platform which held the Reintegrator toward the
door. "After today, Professor, all the scientific organizations in the
world will have heard of you and will be demanding demonstrations."

"Yes, but these Patriot Daughters! Who are they? Who in the scientific
world ever heard of them?"

"No one except a few scientists unfortunate enough to fall afoul of
their Loyalty and Conformity Committee."

"I think we should have gone elsewhere for our demonstration."

"Now Professor. Who in the world today would be interested in the past
except a group of ancestor conscious women?"

"Some historical society perhaps," the Professor said wistfully.

"And what historical society could have advanced the twenty thousand
dollars we needed to complete the machine?"

"I suppose you're right, my boy," MacCulloch sighed as he helped push
the Reintegrator onto the auditorium floor.

By the time Clark Decker reached the platform to explain the
demonstration, the fight for the microphone had turned into a
three-way struggle. A lady who represented the Finance Committee was
trying to win it away from both the Past President and the new
President.

Taking them by surprise, Decker managed to gain control long enough to
explain what was about to happen.

"You mean," demanded Mrs. Johns-Hayes, "that this is some sort of time
machine and you're going to transport great-great-great-great-grandfather
from the past into the present?"

"No, Mrs. Hayes. This isn't a time machine in the comic book use of
the term. It is just what Professor MacCulloch has called it, an
historical Reintegrator. The theory upon which it is based, the
MacCulloch Reaction, says that every person who ever existed, and
every event which ever took place caused electrical disturbances in
the space-time continuum of the universe by displacing an equal and
identical group of electrons. The task of the Reintegrator is to
reassemble those electrons. That is why Professor MacCulloch is now
placing your ancestor's sword in the machine. We will use that as a
base point from which our recreation will begin."

The machine was humming and small lights were beginning to play about
its tubes and dials. "If our calculations are accurate, and we believe
that they are," Decker said, "within a very few minutes, Colonel Johns
should be standing before us as he was on a day approximately a week
before his heroic action in the battle at Temple Farm."

Mrs. Johns-Hayes, although still gripping her notes, was beginning to
get a little flustered. "Oh my, that would be before he married
great-great-great-great-grandmother Sayles. They were married only two
days before the battle, you know. It was so romantic ... a wartime
romance and all."

"Just imagine," Mrs. Tolman remarked, "at that time your whole family
was just a gleam in the Colonel's eye!"

Professor MacCulloch made one or two last passes at the machine and
then stood back to watch, a look of pure scientific ecstasy on his
face. A mistiness began to gather on the platform where the Colonel's
sword lay and through it from time to time shot sparks of electricity.
Suddenly a gasp went up from the assembled Daughters as a man's head
and shoulders appeared and expanded downward, a long way downward, to
a large pair of feet. There was one last hum from the machine and then
a tall young man in faded blue regimentals and very much in need of a
shave was standing blinking in the blazing lights of the auditorium.

"Oh, Mr. Decker, surely there's some mistake!" was Mrs. Johns-Hayes'
first comment as she surveyed the very tall, very tattered, and very
dirty young man. "Great-great-great-great-grandfather's pictures
always show him as a dignified old gentleman."

The Colonel took one quick look around and made a grab for his sword, but
the Professor managed to calm him and to explain the situation before any
violence could take place. After a few minutes of hurried talk, MacCulloch
steered the Colonel in the direction of the speaker's platform for the
meeting with his great-great-great-great-granddaughter.

Peter Johns' bewilderment faded into astonishment, but he still
gripped his sword as the Professor guided him through the throngs of
excited ladies onto the stage. He paused momentarily to look at the
brilliant lights and at the huge number of American flags which hung
overhead. A picture of George Washington, hung among the flags, seemed
to reassure him and he allowed the Professor to lead him to Mrs.
Johns-Hayes.

That lady had drawn herself together at the approach of her ancestor and
had obviously decided to carry it off as best she could. She advanced to
meet him crying, "Dear, dear great-great-great-great-grandfather! This is
such a pleasure! You can't know how proud all of us in the family have
always been of you."

The young Continental officer stared open mouthed at the red-faced,
big-bosomed woman who was twice his age, but who addressed him as
great-great-great-great-grandfather. Then he turned to MacCulloch who
stood beside him. "Are you sure you have the right man?" he asked.

"Oh yes! Perfectly, perfectly! You're Colonel Peter Johns of Pamworth,
Pennsylvania, and this is your great-great-great-great-granddaughter,
Rebecca Johns-Hayes."

"Rebecca? You mean she's named after Becky Sayles?" The Colonel rubbed
a hand across his several days' growth of beard.

"That's right, dear great-great-great-great-grandfather. I'm named
after great-great-great-great-grandmother," Mrs. Johns-Hayes
announced.

"Then I married Becky Sayles?" the Colonel asked.

"Why, of course! Aren't you planning on getting married in a few
days?" Clark Decker asked.

The Colonel was embarrassed but he grinned, "Well, I don't rightly
know. Miss Sayles and I have been courtin' for some months but there's
little Jennie Taylor down in Trenton.... To tell the truth, I haven't
quite made up my mind."

"Well! Of all things! What would the family think! What would great
Aunt Mary Hayes say?" Mrs. Johns-Hayes puffed out even farther than
usual.

"Well, we can ease your mind on that subject, Colonel. The history
books say that you married Miss Sayles--and here is Mrs. Johns-Hayes
to prove it."

The Colonel scratched his chin again as he looked at Mrs. Johns-Hayes.
"Is that so? Is that so? What's all this about history books? You mean
I got in history because I married Becky Sayles?"

The Professor laughed. "Well, not exactly. It was because of your
heroism in the defeat of Burgoyne's army. If you hadn't blocked
Captain Fenwick's flanking move at Temple Farm, the American army
under General Gates might have been defeated and the Colonies might
even have lost the war."

"Well, I'll be.... Me? I did all that? I didn't even know there was
going to be a battle. Did I end up a live hero or a dead one?" The
Colonel was beginning to feel a bit more easy in his surroundings,
and, to the horror of Mrs. Johns-Hayes, took a plug of tobacco out of
his pocket and bit off a piece and began to chew it.

"You came through the battle with only a slight wound and lived to a
ripe old age surrounded by grandchildren," the Professor told him.

"Then I reckon I won't go back to Pennsylvania with the other boys.
They figure that since their enlistments are up, it's time to get back
to the farm and let them New Yorkers do some of their own fighting."

"Oh no! You weren't thinking of going back--of leaving the fighting?"
Mrs. Johns-Hayes demanded.

The Colonel shifted his wad of tobacco and looked at the woman
carefully as though he couldn't quite believe the evidence of his
eyes. "No, ma'am, I don't reckon I am. I don't exactly look on it the
same as the other boys do. I kind of feel like if we're ever going to
have a country, it's worth fighting for."

Mrs. Johns-Hayes beamed, as did all the other officers of the
Daughters. "Well, your faith and heroism have been rewarded,
great-great-great-great-grandfather. I know you'll be proud to know
that these ladies whom you see before you are the present guardians of
the ideals that you fought for."

"Well, now, is that so, ma'am? Is that so?" Peter Johns looked around
the convention hall in amazement.

"And that I, your descendant, have just been elected their President!"

"Well, what do you know about that! Maybe all the hard times and the
danger we been going through is worth it if you folks still remember
the way we felt about things."

"It's too bad," Decker whispered to MacCulloch, "that we can't let him
see what the country is really like. I'm not sure these ladies are
representative."

There was a worried look on the Professor's face. "That's impossible.
The reintegration is good for only an hour or so. I hope nothing goes
wrong here."

Mrs. Appleby-Simpkin took charge of the Colonel and ushered him to a
seat of honor near the podium while the new President prepared to
deliver her speech. Decker and the professor managed to obtain seats
on either side of Johns just as Rebecca started. He managed to whisper
to them, "I'm sure amazed! I'm sure amazed! All these nice old ladies
feeling the same way about things as we do."

       *       *       *       *       *

Decker had a premonition of trouble as Mrs. Hayes' words poured forth.
He had hoped for a cut and dried acceptance speech with nothing but
the usual patriotic platitudes, but, as she went on his worst fears
were realized. Inspired by the presence of her ancestor, the woman was
going into superlatives about the purposes and aims of the Patriot
Daughters. She covered everything from the glories of her ancestry to
the morals of the younger generation and women in politics.

Decker watched the Colonel's face, saw it changed from puzzlement to
painful boredom as word after word floated from the battery of
speakers overhead.

MacCulloch was whispering in Johns' ear in an attempt to draw his
attention from the woman's booming voice but the man disregarded him.
"Am I really responsible for that?" The Colonel jerked his head in the
direction of Mrs. Johns-Hayes.

"I'm afraid, Colonel, that you're getting a distorted idea of what
America is like in our time," Decker said. The Colonel didn't even
turn to look at him. He was scowling at his Amazonian descendant as
her screeching reached new heights.

"... and we hold that this is true! Our simple motto, as you all know,
is: One race, one creed, one way of thinking!"

Colonel Johns began to squirm violently in his seat. The professor
found it necessary to grasp him firmly by one arm while Decker held
him by the other.

The president of the Patriot Daughters had finished her speech amidst
thunderous applause and started to present suggestions for the
formation of new committees, for the passing of new by-laws and for
resolutions.

"A committee should be formed to see that the public parks are
properly policed to prevent so-called 'spooners' from pursuing their
immoral behaviour.

"A new by-law is needed," and here Mrs. Hayes glanced aside at Mrs.
Tolman, "to prevent members being accepted unless their forebears were
lieutenants or of higher rank in the glorious Continental army."

The Colonel was a strong man and both Decker and MacCulloch were older
than he. With something between a snort and a roar he shook them loose
and started for the exit.

"Oh my," MacCulloch moaned, "I was afraid that this whole thing was a
mistake."

Colonel Johns had taken only two steps toward the door when he seemed
to stagger. MacCulloch leaped to his side and caught him by the arm.
There was an uproar in the auditorium as the Colonel faded slightly
and the professor hurried him down the steps toward the Reintegrator.

"I'm afraid the Colonel isn't going to be with us much longer," the
professor explained.

Thank goodness, Decker thought, I don't believe the poor man could
have stood it much longer.

"I'm afraid the reintegration time of Colonel Johns is running out and
he must return to his own time," the professor went on.

The grim-faced Colonel said nothing as MacCulloch led him up to the
machine.

"Goodbye, great-great-great-great-grandfather," Mrs. Johns-Hayes
called from the platform. "It has been so nice having you with us."

"Goodbye, Rebecca," the Colonel said as he began to fade away.

"Give my regards to great-great-great-great-grandmother."

The figure in the dirty, faded blue uniform was gone but Decker and
MacCulloch heard him mutter just before he disappeared altogether, "I
will, if I ever see her again!"

MacCulloch turned to stare at the platform and Decker turned to follow
his gaze. A sudden dizziness overcame them both and there was a slight
haze about the auditorium. When it cleared, the podium was empty. Mrs.
Johns-Hayes was gone as if she had never been.

"My God!," the professor gasped. "I was afraid something like this
might happen. He must have married the other girl."

"I suppose," Decker said quietly, "that we should consider ourselves
lucky that he didn't decide to go back to Pennsylvania." His voice
broke off and he wondered what he had been saying. He looked up at the
speakers' platform trying to remember why he should think it strange
that it was draped in Union Jacks and that Lady Appleby-Simpkin should
be saying, "And now, my dears, I know that all of you, as Loyal
Daughters of the British Empire will be happy to know...."

                                                           ... THE END

       *       *       *       *       *







End of Project Gutenberg's The Ordeal of Colonel Johns, by George H. Smith