The Wings of Morning by Murray Pura Page A

sufficiently connected to the Old Order Amish and have the same rights and privileges. It will take some time to sort out.”
    “We will send our people to Philadelphia.”
    “By all means, send your people to Philadelphia,” the captain said. “Send them to Washington. But until then, I have my orders. These men of yours must be brought to a military detention center for refusing to bear arms in defense of the Republic. They will be given adequate shelter and provision. No harm will come to them. They will be released upon the cessation of hostilities between the United States and Germany. Or at such a time as your ministrations obtain their release.”
    The captain leaned from his seat through the open door of the truck, his demeanor like that of a hawk. “Just remember,” he added, “it was your people who brought this on. It was Germans who torpedoed our ships. It was they who drowned American sailors and merchantmen. You were warned when you sank the
Lusitania
in 1915. But you began sinking our ships again this spring. The
Vigilancia
, fifteen killed. The
Healdton
, eighteen or twenty killed. The
Aztec
, almost thirty killed. So we declared war on you. And your response? To kill more of our people by sinking more of our ships. Just the other day your U-boats torpedoed the
Platuria
tanker and took at least ten more American lives. You can thank God we don’t line the bunch of you up in front of a barn and shoot you on the spot.”
    He pointed forward with his hand and the driver steered the truck around the Zooks’ buggy and back down to the main road. Lyyndaya heard the captain almost shout at the bishop, “Where is the Hostetler home?”
    Lyyndaya’s father gestured with his hand to Pastor Miller. “Get in, Jacob. It’s important we follow them. That we see everything they do and hear everything they say.”
    The pastor didn’t move. “We have done all that we can. It’s in God’s hands now.”
    “God works through men and women of faith, Pastor. We are the instruments of his peace, are we not? The ones who hammer swords into plowshares.”
    “Very well. But this captain has no authority to do anything but carry out the orders given to him. He cannot change a thing.”
    He clambered up beside Lyyndaya’s father. Ruth and Emma sat behind the men.
    “Nevertheless,” said Lyyndaya’s father, snapping the reins, “we will keep them honest. At least while they are here in Paradise.”
    Lyyndaya looked at Mr. Whetstone. He was already clicking his tongue and turning their buggy around to the left. “I will talk to my son once more before they take him away. We must stay with him, with all of our young men, until the truck is gone.”
    “I agree with you.”
    He looked up at Mrs. Miller standing with her children on the porch and a newborn in her arms. “Will you come, Rachel?”
    Her face looked swollen and red. “No, Adam, my place is with my children and the baby. But you go. Yes, go, please, and keep our young men from evil. Guard them, please, guard them.”
    What
, thought Lyyndaya as the carriage bounced down to the road,
could they possibly do that would quell the hatred and contempt she had seen in the eyes of both the corporal and the captain? How could they turn the key in the lock that would set their Amish men free from the wrath of the United States Army?

T EN
     
    A month passed as they prayed and fretted over the fate of the young men from their colony. Finally word came that the men were to be allowed a visit. Everyone thanked God and began to prepare food to take to them. Lyyndaya was still packing items away the day of the train ride to the camp.
    Her father called up the stairs to her. “Lyyndaya, you must hurry, we’ll miss the train.”
    “Yes, yes, Papa, I’m coming.” How could she not be ready? She had looked forward to this day since it was announced through the colony that family members could travel to the army base to see the six young men who were still under