“What’s the Constitution got to do with it?” Ernest demanded. “The courts interpret the Constitution, and the courts, as Mr. Asmunsen agreed, are the creatures of the trusts. Besides, it is as I have said, the law. It has been the law for years, for nine years, gentlemen.”
“That we can be drafted into the militia?” Mr. Calvin asked incredulously. “That they can shoot us by drumhead court martial if we refuse?”
“Yes,” Ernest answered, “precisely that.”
“How is it that we have never heard of this law?” my father asked, and I could see that it was likewise new to him.
“For two reasons,” Ernest said. “First, there has been no need to enforce it. If there had, you’d have heard of it soon enough. And secondly, the law was rushed through Congress and the Senate secretly, with practically no discussion. Of course, the newspapers made no mention of it. But we socialists knew about it. We published it in our papers. But you never read our papers.”
“I still insist you are dreaming,” Mr. Calvin said stubbornly. “The country would never have permitted it.”
“But the country did permit it,” Ernest replied. “And as for my dreaming—” he put his hand in his pocket and drew out a small pamphlet—“tell me if this looks like dream-stuff.”
He opened it and began to read:
“‘Section One, be it enacted, and so forth and so forth, that the militia shall consist of every able-bodied male citizen of the respective states, territories, and District of Columbia, who is more than eighteen and less than forty-five years of age.’