The new munition plant was nearing completion. Situated on the outskirts
of the city, it spread over a vast area of what had once been waste
land. Of the three long buildings, two were already in operation and the
third was well under way.
To Clayton Spencer it was the realization of a dream. He never entered
the great high-walled enclosure without a certain surprise at the ease
with which it had all been accomplished, and a thrill of pride at the
achievement. He found the work itself endlessly interesting. The casts,
made of his own steel, lying in huge rusty heaps in the yard; the little
cars which carried them into the plant; the various operations by which
the great lathes turned them out, smooth and shining, only to lose their
polish when, heated again, they were ready for the ponderous hammer to
close their gaping jaws. The delicacy of the work appealed to him,
the machining to a thousandth of an inch, the fastidious making of the
fuses, tiny things almost microscopic, and requiring the delicate touch
of girls, most of whom had been watchmakers and jewelry-workers.
And with each carload of the finished shells that left the plant he felt
a fine glow of satisfaction. The output was creeping up. Soon they would
be making ten thousand shells a day. And every shell was one more chance
for victory against the Hun. It became an obsession with him to make
more, ever more.
As the work advanced, he found an unexpected enthusiasm in Graham. Here
was something to be done, a new thing. The steel mill had been long
established. Its days went on monotonously. The boy found it noisy,
dirty, without appeal to his imagination. But the shell plant was
different. There were new problems to face, of labor, of supplies, of
shipping and output.
He was, however, reluctantly coming to the conclusion that the break
with Germany was the final step that the Government intended to take.
That it would not declare war.
However, the break had done something. It had provided him with men
from the local National Guard to police the plant, and he found the
government taking a new interest, an official interest, in his safety.
Agents from the Military Intelligence and the Department of Justice
scanned his employment lists and sent agents into the plant. In the
building where men and women were hired, each applicant passed a desk
where they were quietly surveyed by two unobstrusive gentlemen in
indifferent business suits who eyed them carefully. Around the fuse
department, where all day girls and women handled guncotton and
high-explosive powder, a special guard was posted, day and night.