The Long March of the Silent Sentinels

Lucy Lovell Could outrun any of the boys in her sixth grade class.  It was June 1910 and this would most likely be her final year at Marsh Flats School since girls didn't need a formal education like the boys did.

"You ain't nothing but a tomboy, Lucy Lovell." Gunther Borsch Yelled as she crossed the finish line in her bare feet.

"I beat you, Gunther. That's a fact." She yelled back her retort.  Gunther's plump face turned red as some of the onlookers laughed.

Her father Zachiah was sitting on the buck board loosely holding the reins of Jezebel, their quarter horse waiting for her. 

"I see ya won again." He spit some chewing tobacco on the ground.

"I never lose." She smiled as she climbed up into the wagon.

"How was school?" He snapped the reins and Jezebel began to move.  The wagon creaked forward.

"Billy Jenkins threw up in class." She declared.

"Darling, me and your mom had a word last night and we think this will be your last year in school." He swallowed hard.

"But why, pa?" Big round tears began to form at the corners of her big blue eyes.

"Girls don't need no schooling." He coughed as the wagon wheel caught a big rut in the gravel.

It was quiet for the rest of the ride home that took the better part of an hour.

True to his word, his daughter Lucy would never attend another class ever again.  The years in upstate New York would float on peacefully like a big old fluffy cloud.  In 1914, war broke out in Europe, but that was a whole world away as she started to become a woman.  Billy Jenkins asked her to be his girl and accompany him to the Saturday night dances at the Grange hall.

"Billy, I don't wanna be your girl." She told him under the big elm tree next to the hall.

"Why not?  Are you sweet on someone else?" He removed the oversized straw hat from his head revealing his well-oiled red hair.

"Nope." She shook her head bouncing a pair of ponytails. 

"Then why not?"

"I just don't want no boyfriend hanging around me." She tilted her head. Someone opened the door and the sour notes from a fiddle leaked out. "C'mon Billy, I reckon we'd better be getting inside."

“You are the most stubborn person I know.” He twisted his face in disgust as they walked in together creating the appearance that they were a couple.

In April, 1917, President Wilson declared war on Germany after finding the Zimmerman memorandum.  People were still pretty upset with the sinking of the Lusitania by a German U Boat without warning off the coast of Ireland.  Every town sent in soldiers to muster young men to help fill the ranks.  Billy Jenkins was one of those who volunteered, signing his name on the roll sheet in front of the sergeant.  Even as the new recruits marched out of the town, nothing seemed to change until the telegram came to the Jenkins', informing them that their son had bravely died in action.  

Emotionally, Lucy was hit hard by the news of Billy’s death and the next day she volunteered as a Red Cross aide. With nuns buzzing around the facility like bees in a hive, Lucy found herself lost.  The soldiers who occupied the beds were missing various pieces and parts of themselves they had left on battlefields they could not even pronounce. Many of them had not even begun to shave.  Some had left high school to join the fray and now they were here, bandaged and on morphine for the pain.  

“What’s your name?” One of the men asked her after she changed his bedpan. She saw the bandages were placed over his eyes.

“Lucy.” She answered, startled by his current condition. “What happened?”

“Lost my eyes when an artillery shell exploded near me.  I was the only survivor.” He explained. 

“What is your name?” She asked, fighting off the tears. 

“Tom.  Thomas Gehring.” He smiled, “My mother told me to use my proper name when speaking to a woman.” 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Thomas Gerhring.” She put her hand over his.

“Miss, that is not allowed.” One of the nuns snapped as she passed by.

“Sorry.” She was not really sure who she was apologizing to at that moment. 

“I’ll be going home in a couple of days.” He informed her.

“I’ll bet they’ll be glad to have you home.” She said.

“I’m not so sure.  Pa says having a blind son is not much help around the farm.” His voice trailed off as his head fell to his chest. “They want me to go to some school for the blind.  I don’t want to go.” 

Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“Sister Lucy.” One of the nuns spoke to her in the privacy of her office. “You must not let their stories affect you.”

“How can I not?” She sniffed.

“You must learn.  You must ask for God’s help and strength.  What we do here is His work.” Her voice was kind.  Lucy was calm at last. “Come with me child.”

For the rest of her time there that day, Lucy became Sister Marie’s shadow as the elderly nun tended to the men in the facility.  A man missing his left leg was helped into the bathroom to relieve himself.  It made him happy that he was able to move without the use of his missing leg.  Lucy was doing just fine until one of the men hemorrhaged and died as a priest administered last rites.  

“He died.” Lucy sobbed.

“God called him home.” Sister Marie patted Lucy on her back.  

On her way home, Lucy saw a group of women gathered in front of the Town Hall with placards and signs proclaiming that women needed to vote just like the men.  Police were called in to break up the crowd using nightsticks. 

Hitting a woman was wrong, Lucy had been told by the minister during a sermon, but here these policemen were striking these women with their hard night sticks. Some of these women were bleeding from their heads as the police put them in handcuffs, leading them to a wagon.

“Mrs. Phillips, your husband will deal with you.” One of the uniformed policemen waved his finger at a woman placed in the wagon.  

“You have a wicked soul.” She retorted.  He responded by striking her on the head. 

“Lucy, women have no place voting.” Her father said as he used a pitchfork to put some fresh hay in the horses’ stall. 

“The police hit the women.” She was helping him feed the horses.

“Hmpt, that is not a good thing, but these women were breaking the law.” He leaned on his pitchfork. 

“Breaking the law?” She repeated it as if it was a question.

“Voting is a privilege for men who work.” 

“Women work as well.” She put more hay in the stalls. 

“These things are not always clear, you see.” He said, hoping she would drop the subject. 

“Papa, I’ve spent a month at the Red Cross and I’ve seen things I wished I hadn’t. I held soldier’s hands of soldiers who were dying. I made sure their letters got mailed even if I had to pay for the postage.” Lucy was physically shaking.  Her father paused to take a good look at her.

“Darling, I don’t know what to tell you.  I don’t know what to tell you.” He sighed.

“There is nothing to say, papa. It’s time to give us the vote.  Who knows what we can do...together.” She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

She got to town early and stood in front of the Grange Hall remembering when her and Billy went to the Saturday night dances.  Life seemed as light as a feather, but now there were heavy weights pulling her under into the muck and mire. 

Sister Marie sat in one of the chairs on the porch of the building smoking her pipe.  She waved to Lucy and Lucy back.

“Just taking a break.” Sister Marie said as she puffed her pipe, “A big train came in with lots of boys on it.  Seems like it gets worse and worse.” 

As soon as Lucy opened the door, the metallic odor of blood nearly made her swoon.  There were moans and groans that sounded like a very sad anthem.  The varnished old wooden floors were slippery with blood.  

“Could you give me a hand, Lucy.” One of the nuns asked as she tried to stem arterial flow from the leg of one of the patients. “Put some pressure right here.” 

Lucy did as she was told, but the soldier slipped away once they got the bandage in place.

“Shame.” The nun said as she put the sheet over the dead soldier. “Sometimes the voyage does ‘em in more than their wounds.” 

Lucy had never considered that these soldiers had been transported across the Atlantic where German U Boats patrolled regularly.  

It was snowing when Lucy walked out of the building.  Dawn struggled to crack the icy horizon, but the women were standing in front of the town hall again carrying their signs and placards. 

“Hey you!  Red Cross aide.” One of the women carrying a sign that simply read “Vote!” called out to her.

“What?” Lucy was weary from not getting sleep.  

“Come join us.” She seemed friendly.

As if under a spell, Lucy walked over where she was handed a sign, “Vote NOW!!!”  It seemed more urgent than the others, but as soon as she held it, she felt the power surge through her like electricity.  

When the police came, she kicked the officer before he could strike her with his nightstick. Running to his fallen comrade’s aid, the next officer was met with a stick across his head bringing him to his knees. The second blow put the policeman on his back.  

Suddenly the police were on the defensive, but that didn't last as one of the officers drew his pistol and fired it at one of the protesters.  With a groan the protester grabbed her stomach and fell to her knees as blood ran freely through her fingers.  immediately the riot was over.

"They killed her in cold blood." Lucy told her father at dinner.

"I do not want you with those women." He said, slamming his fist down on the table.  "Ain't nothing but a bunch of Reds.  Women ain't got no place voting, right Elma?"

She was silent.

"Things are fine the way they are." He left the kitchen In an angry huff.

"What do you think, ma?" Lucy leaned her head on her knuckles.

"I think It's time for women to have their say." She Said in a steady calm voice.  There was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke, "Your papa is a good man, but he's set in his ways.  His Republican world is just fine the way it is."

Her chuckle was gentle as though it had been tempered over time.  Absentmindedly, she took her daughter's hand.

"Mallory Kline was the woman who was shot." Lucy shuddered as she spoke.

"She was the druggist's wife." Alma shook her head.

"Yes, and now he's a widower." Lucy bowed her head.

The history was a long one, but as of the present, women were not allowed to vote.  When Wyoming was a territory, the territorial law permitted women to vote which had sent a shock wave through the country.  Before that the Seneca Falls Convention of 1848 changed the outlook for women forever as Elizabeth Cady Staton called for the woman’s right to vote.  They called themselves the silent sentinels, ever vigilant and dedicated to the long march that had taken them over seven decades thus far. 

The radical idea just could not move the mountain, but Lucy felt the tremor of change sweeping over the country as the Great War raged on. Once one rock began to fall, the rest would be sure to follow.    

Her experience at the Red Cross had changed her, made her more cynical about the status quo that had existed for over a century.  Watching the police break up the protests had made her more determined to continue to stand up for a woman’s right to vote.  

“We will vote.” Mary Wickman stood up at the meeting in the Grange Hall to make a motion to the committee.

There was a gasp and then silence.

The chairperson banged the gavel and with all the color drained from her face, declared, “Vote?  It would break the law.  It would cause a disruption.” 

“How else can we possibly make our point?  Disruption is what it takes to tip the scales.” She continued. As she said that, Lucy stood up next to her to show her support for her colleague.

“Let’s vote.” She managed to find her voice. “What can they do to us that they have not done already?”

Murmuring broke out as the entire assembly began to chatter about the proposed illegal action they were contemplating.

Mrs. Barrett, the chairperson, stood there with her mouth open, unable to say a word as the chattering became even louder. There was a chant that filled the air, starting out as a quiet anthem until everyone was singing it at the top of their voices, “We shall overcome…” 

On the first Tuesday of November, the entire delegation arrived at the polling place, but the police had already arrived, forming a line to prevent them from entering the voting booths.  There was pushing and shoving just like there always was.  Lucy was nearly knocked off her feet.  When she looked up she saw her father standing there having just signed the voting roster. She could tell he was not pleased by her presence with the others. He just shook his head.

“Please step back!” A policeman shouted at the women who had gathered in the front of the polling place. “What you are about to do is illegal.”

“We came here to vote just like the men.” Mrs. Barrett spoke up.

“You can’t do that.” He answered.

“Try to stop us.” She yelled over the din. 

“We will-” The policeman was not able to finish as the crowd mobbed the voting booths.

“Stop them!” The city councilman in charge of the entire operation told the policeman. 

“We are doing our best.” He managed to speak before he was knocked off his feet.

Lucy managed to get inside the voting booth.  Once there she saw the machine appeared as some futuristic contraption from a dime science fiction novel.  There was a lever.  She pulled it down and heard a click.  She had no way of knowing who she voted for, but she was sure that she had done it.

She felt someone grab her hand.

She felt the cold steel around her wrists restricting any movement.

She heard the voice of someone telling her she was under arrest.

She was told not to resist.

She obeyed.

There was no use resisting.

There was no use fighting what was about to happen to her.

The important thing was that she had pulled the lever and voted. 

Three days later after she went back to the Red Cross building, Sister Marie gave her a quizzical look over her wire framed glasses, “So where have we been, Miss Lovell?”

“In jail.” She answered.

“My goodness, what evil became you?” She was aghast.

“I voted.” She answered.

“Voted, eh?” A smile cracked across her brittle face, “Good for you.”