Loyalty is one of those three-syllable words with a big meaning all its own. Out of the letters composing it can be spelled two other words—the preposition to; and the adverb all. Loyalty to all—everything worth while; our country, our homes, our government, and the friends we have “and their adoption tried.” It seems a shame to hear this fine word used in any other connection, such as “loyal to the gang”—“loyal to his confederates”—“loyal to the enemy.” It is too fine a word to be employed in a manner possessing the significance of the word “traitor.” Now that the word loyalty has come back into such vast everyday usage, the time is ripe to nail it down hard and fast to the principles for which it stands. Why not say “he was in cahoots with the gang”—“false to his constituency”—“dishonest with his confederates?” Then, in our mind’s eye, let us hang the word loyalty alongside of the flag and keep it there for all time.

As I write this chapter, keeping in mind the subject of Making Life Worth While, a feeling of serenity pervades my inner consciousness. I believe that loyalty practically reigns supreme in America. I believe that the fifty-fifty variety has become scarcer than hen’s teeth when measured by the whole citizenship. Only among the unenlightened, the profligates, the misanthropes and enemy aliens, are they bound to be found at all. Thanks to governmental efficiency during times most trying, the searchlight has been turned upon the meaning of the word loyalty in this country. The flag symbolizes it and it hangs everywhere. We take off our hats to it when we pass it on the street, and when we hear the songs that match it we join our voices with the rest.

To love the flag is a soul quality and when the souls of a hundred million strong go out in support of the Stars and Stripes there is mighty little standing room for the mere onlooker.

He is either with us or against us—that’s the slogan that thins the ranks of the unbelievers in our country. It makes them sit up and stare at the truth. It makes them blink their eyes in wonder, which is first aid in thinking things over. It causes them to look around and compare their standpoint with that represented by the Star Spangled Banner.

In taking stock of the situation here is what they found to be true—that this great country stands for peace—not only for itself, but its neighbors all over the world. That peace is so desirable, and so essential that it is worth fighting for to the last man and the last dollar. That without peace nothing counts as of value in the entire inventory of things worth while and, therefore, nothing remains but to fight—and to a finish.

When your Uncle Sam rolls up his sleeves preparatory to a scrap he begins to take on size that distinguishes him from the ordinary fighter. He goes about it methodically, and allows himself the proper time in which to get in readiness. Then he takes a running jump into the middle of the ring. After this the disinterested onlooker isn’t long in catching the fact that, as a mere matter of discretion, it is far better to be with Uncle Sam than to be against him. Also it must creep into his mind that if he doesn’t want to be smashed into a proper state of mind, the best thing to do is to join in and help.

If a hundred million people want peace bad enough to fight for it, both for themselves and their neighbors, it isn’t for slackers either in thought or in spirit to stand on the side lines and watch the scrap. People of that mould do not belong in America.

Everybody must do his part and do it right. There are thousands of ways of helping on toward victory. There is more than one way of fighting. The most potent of all is to back up the man who does—except, of course, when his time comes, every man capable of pulling a trigger must pick up his pack and take his place on the firing line. Meanwhile it behooves all of us to be ready for the call.