The five soldiers hurried outdoors and cautioned by Dubois they stood together in a little group and listened intently.
"Guns," exclaimed Jacques.
"Guns?" echoed Dubois. "I should say there were; thousands of men. Just listen to that cannonade."
A steady roar came to the ears of the soldiers. Now and again it rose angrily only to sink down again to a low muttering. It did not cease for a moment however and the most inexperienced recruit could have told that a furious bombardment was taking place.
"That must be over ten miles away," said Dubois, "and yet just see how plainly we can hear it. We'll be in that soon."
"You think so?" asked Leon.
"I'm sure of it; they'll begin to move up reserves pretty quick."
"Who's doing all that firing, do you think?"
"The Germans. They are going to counter-attack and try to win back the positions we took away from them ten days ago."
"Do you know that for sure?"
"No, that's just my guess," said Dubois. "Of course I'm not sure."
"Well I don't believe that German guns are the only ones busy," exclaimed Earl with a grim smile.
"No, indeed," agreed Dubois quickly. "We wouldn't just sit still and let them pound us to pieces."
At this moment a bugle sounded. Everyone stopped talking and listened intently; then they turned and hurried into their lodgings. From all directions men could be seen running in answer to the call and the camp was immediately all bustle and excitement. There was no confusion however; every man knew what he was to do and he did it.
"I told you!" exclaimed Dubois triumphantly. "I knew they'd have us out before much time had passed."
"It must be a terrible fight," remarked Leon, who was busily engaged in packing his equipment and taking a last look at his rifle.
"We'll make it so," said Armande fiercely. "Just let them try to get those positions away from us; we'll show them."
A few moments later the regiment was formed in line and without any delay the march was begun. Night was just falling as they set out. The men laughed and joked and sang, seemingly regardless of the danger into which they were going and the thought of possible death was apparently far from their minds.
As they proceeded the noise of the bombardment grew steadily louder. The very earth shook with the fury of it and far ahead could be seen an occasional flash from one of the star shells used to search out the enemy's positions.
"Do you suppose the infantry have attacked yet?" asked Earl of Jacques.
"I don't know how long the bombardment has been going on."
"They'll try to smash our trenches with their big guns before they send their infantry out, won't they?"
"Oh, I suppose so," said Jacques. "That's the usual way."
"Probably we'll arrive just in time to bear the whole weight of the attack," remarked Earl grimly.
They entered the trenches and mile after mile they progressed. The noise of the artillery made it almost impossible to talk now and but few attempts at conversation were made. Nearer and nearer to the front they came until presently they could distinguish the sharp rattle of the machine-guns above the roar of the cannon. At length they reached one of the large communicating trenches and there they halted.
"We're to be held as reserves," shouted Jacques in Leon's ear.
"What's that?" demanded Leon.
"We're to be held as reserves."
Leon nodded his head. No one made much of an attempt to talk. The men huddled together in the trench and listened to the furious artillery duel going on around them. Now and again a big shell would burst near the spot where they were stationed and once the five friends were spattered with dirt thrown up by a nearby explosion. The earth rocked and it seemed as if no man could endure the awful tumult that was going on.
The Germans were deluging the French trenches with a deadly hail of high explosive shells. They tried to cover every inch of the allied first line and even behind the front trenches they dropped a steady stream of giant projectiles.
Suddenly the artillery fire slackened.
"Now the infantry will charge," exclaimed Jacques.
"Poor fellows," muttered Leon.
"Yes," agreed Jacques; "not many of them will ever get past our rifles and machine guns."
"Or the seventy-fives," added Earl.
As they stood talking an officer approached.
"I want a man to volunteer for a very dangerous mission," he announced as he drew near. "Who will go?"
Immediately he was besieged on all sides by an excited crowd of men, every one of them eager and anxious to be the one selected. Needless to say Leon, Earl, Jacques, Armande and Dubois were among the first to offer themselves. The officer smiled as he saw how the men responded.
"I want only one," he said. "I can't use you all."
"Take me; take me," begged every man eagerly.
"I will select you," he said, and as he spoke he laid his hand on Jacques' shoulder. The rest of the men shrank back disappointedly.
"Come with me," directed the officer and he and Jacques walked rapidly away. Jacques had no conception what his mission was to he, but he was not particularly curious; he knew that he was to do something for France and he was satisfied.
Through the winding trenches they preceded until they reached the first line. Here the effects of the German bombardment were especially noticeable. In many places the parapets had been blown in and dead and wounded men were lying all about. Jacques and his conductor paid no attention to these things, however. They hurried along until they finally came to a portion of the trench which projected beyond the remainder of it. Jacques recalled it as the section which he and his companions had occupied when Dubois had tied the string to the Germans' bell.
Here they halted; the guns were roaring now as never before and it was with great difficulty that one made his voice heard.
"The Germans came out of their trenches once but we drove them back with our fire curtain," explained the officer.
"They'll try again though," remarked Jacques.
"Of course they will and that is why I want you here. Do you see that little mound out ahead there?"
"Yes," replied Jacques peering intently through the darkness.
"That is a shelter," said the officer.
"And you want me to go out there."
"Yes. You will find inside of it an electric switchboard; there is only one switch so you cannot possibly go wrong. When that switch is pushed down it connects with wires attached to a mine field. You are to go out to that shelter and wait until the German infantry reaches a spot one hundred feet in front of you; then you are to throw the switch. The mines will all explode and there'll be several less of the enemy left to attack us."
Jacques saluted and immediately began to crawl forward. A long narrow tunnel had been dug from the trenches to this position and through it the young soldier made his way without mishap.
Arriving at his goal he produced the flashlight the officer had slipped into his hands and looked about him. Sure enough, there was the switchboard and he felt no doubts about being able to carry out a part at least of his task. In the front of the shelter was a narrow slit. He pulled himself along to this and peered out.
Far ahead appeared the German trenches. The French shells were bursting all around them and the whole battlefield was a seething cauldron of flame. All at once he spied the German infantry. They emerged from their positions in good order and made ready to advance. Evidently they had decided that their bombardment had sufficiently devastated the French trenches and that the time to advance had arrived.
"Huh," snorted Jacques to himself. "If they only knew that our men are digging new trenches every minute and that every shell-hole has a machine-gun in it they wouldn't be in such a hurry to show themselves."
Such was indeed the case, but the Germans could not see the hidden peril. On they came. Spell-bound Jacques watched them. He had his hand on the switch but he was so nervous he decided to withdraw it for fear he should set it off too soon. A hundred feet away from him the officer had said the mines were planted. The Germans were over two hundred yards distant now.
Still they advanced. The French allowed them to come forward with but slight opposition until they reached a spot some two hundred yards away; then the rifles and machine-guns opened fire. The Germans were taken by surprise; Jacques could see them crouch low to the ground. He chuckled softly to himself at the sight.
They did not hesitate long, however. The order was passed along for them to advance and on they came. They began to sing, "The Watch on the Rhine," and dashed forward. The French guns of every caliber began to pour a perfect deluge of lead and steel upon the solid masses of the attackers.
"Why do they still use that massed formation?" muttered Jacques. "You might think they had men to waste."
Great gaps appeared in the German lines. Always they were closed up immediately, however. Like waves the Germans came on, line after line. Should a man fall, there was someone ready to step into his place and continue the advance. The slaughter was horrible, but still onward they pushed. It seemed as if they must succeed by sheer weight of numbers. Could they possibly be stopped?
Nearer and nearer they came. Jacques' heart was beating like a trip hammer. It seemed to him it must be heard even above the roar of the cannonade. He flashed his light on the switchboard. "Not yet," he told himself.
They were a hundred yards away now, but the mine field was only a hundred feet distant. He must wait. It was hard work, however, and brave as he was, the young soldier had all he could do to restrain himself. The bullets whined and whistled past his shelter; the big shells exploded with a deafening noise and still the Germans came on.
They seemed to falter once. The punishment being meted out to them by the French guns was cruel. They rallied instantly, however, and once more pushed forward. They were almost over the spot where the mines were buried now and Jacques set himself.
Jacques' hand shook violently as he took hold of the switch. He peered out through the narrow slit in his shelter and saw the Germans through the opening, almost as if he was looking behind the curtain of a theater. Was now the time to set off the mine field? Not quite yet, he decided. Behind him he knew his comrades were expecting him to do his work right and he must not disappoint them.
It was a great responsibility that had been placed upon the shoulders of this young soldier. Jacques realized that fact and was determined to be true to his trust. Perhaps the safety of all that portion of the French line depended upon him alone.
Nearer came the Germans. Losses, appalling though they were, did not seem to hold them in check. They were almost over the spot now. Jacques set his jaw firmly and steeled himself to do his duty. It was for France he told himself. He had selected with his eye a spot which he had determined to be one hundred feet distant; when the Germans reached it he would throw the switch.
A few paces more and they would be over the mine field. On they came. The first rank had now reached the spot, but still Jacques waited. They were so near to him now that he could hear the hoarse shouts of the officers urging their men forward. The second line stepped upon the ground underneath which the mines were laid. Jacques threw the switch.
An infernal fountain seemed to shoot up in the midst of the mass of men in gray. A deafening explosion shook the ground and the air was filled with a great whirl of smoke. Men and parts of men flew high into the air as if they had been shot from the crater of some huge volcano.
Spellbound Jacques gazed upon the scene of awful destruction. As the smoke cleared away he saw the ground littered with the dead and dying. Those that still remained standing seemed bewildered. In vain their officers tried to rally them; pleadings and threats alike were of no avail. Their nerves were shattered and they turned and fled.
The attack was stopped. Jacques forgot the slaughter and remembered only that the French positions had been saved. He turned and began to crawl back towards his own lines. He had gone only a short distance, however, when he heard a shout. Glancing up he spied the French infantry climbing out of their trenches. Evidently they were not content with merely having stopped the German charge; they were determined to follow up their advantage with a gain on their own account.
With a wild yell they dashed forward. Rifles in hand and the long wicked-looking bayonets gleaming they rushed ahead. The Germans were demoralized and now was the time to strike. One glance told Jacques what was taking place and he did not hesitate an instant as to what course to pursue. With one bound he joined his comrades and a moment later was making for the opposing trenches as fast as any one of them.
Across the shell-swept field they raced. The ground was covered with the dead and dying, but no one hesitated. Great holes had been dug out of the earth by the giant shells; consequently the footing was dangerous and more than one man came to grief from this cause.
The German reserves and artillery were busy now. They had not been dispersed and in spite of the tremendous battering by the French guns a furious hail of bullets was poured into the advancing troops. The French charge was irresistible, however, and with a rush it swept up to and into the German first-line trench.
Here a furious hand-to-hand combat took place. Using bayonets or the butts of their rifles the men stabbed and clubbed at one another. Like demons the French fought; they were there to win and they meant to win. Their dash and spirit were simply invincible.
As Jacques sprang over the parapet a huge German advanced upon him with a cry of rage. The young Frenchman had partly fallen when he landed in the trench so that for the moment his balance was nearly destroyed. Consequently he was at a disadvantage and seeing his enemy making towards him he realized that before he could do anything he would be killed. Already the German had his rifle upraised preparatory to bringing it down upon the head of the young soldier.
It's all over, thought Jacques and he half closed his eyes. The expected blow never fell, however. Before the German could bring his gun down, a Frenchman standing just behind him suddenly pierced him through and through with his bayonet. The huge German sank to the ground without a sound.
"Armande!" cried Jacques, suddenly recognizing his rescuer. "You saved my life."
"It is part of the day's work," said Armande lightly, for it was indeed the daring Frenchman who had aided Jacques so opportunely.
Every German in the trench had by this time either been killed or captured and already the prisoners were being led back to the French lines.
"The next trench now," shouted someone. "Why stop here?"
A cheer greeted this remark and immediately the soldiers began to scramble out of the captured position. The second line of German trenches ran through a little wood on one border of which appeared the tower of a château which had so far escaped destruction in some miraculous way.
"Let's make for that," shouted Armande in Jacques' ear. "If we can reach that château we can defend ourselves indefinitely."
"Get some more men and we'll go," answered Jacques.
"This way! This way!" cried Armande, and immediately a dozen or fifteen men turned aside and followed his lead.
At top speed the little company dashed forward. The German rifles and machine-guns raked them with a galling fire, but still they kept on. Four of their number fell, but undaunted the others still continued the mad race. Closer and closer to the half-ruined château they came.
"They're firing from the tower," shouted Jacques. "The place is occupied."
"What of it?" demanded Armande. "So much the better."
An occasional flash from the narrow windows of the tower told that the Germans were using the place for defense. How many of them might be in there at present no one could tell. Not one of the attackers faltered on this account, however. Apparently they did not care whether four or forty men might be waiting for them.
Straight up to the front door Armande dashed. It was open and he rushed inside. Close at his heels followed the rest of the daring little company. A fusillade of bullets sang about their ears but no one was touched.
Up the winding stairs ahead of them three German soldiers could be seen fleeing. Their escape cut off below they had made for the only safe place left, the tower of the château. Armande was for following right after them, but Jacques restrained him.
"Wait," he cautioned. "They're above you and have us at a disadvantage."
"But they may escape us," protested Armande.
"How can they? They can't leave that tower by any other means than these stairs. They can't possibly escape."
"We must drive them out of there," insisted Armande.
"We will," exclaimed Jacques. "We want to plan the best way to do it though."
"You stand guard at the door," Armande directed one of the men. "Let us know if you see any sign of a German out there."
The soldier took his place and Armande advanced cautiously towards the foot of the stairway. The men were huddled together on the ground floor, irresolute as to what course they should now pursue.
Suddenly a hand-grenade came flying down the stairs, bumped along on the last two steps and then came to rest in the center of the little group gathered there. It was plain to be seen that it was about to explode and that if it did so, practically the entire hand would be killed.
Quick as a flash one of the men threw himself down upon the deadly bomb. Hardly had he done so when it exploded. There was an ear-splitting roar and the soldier, Fisché by name, was literally blown to pieces. No one else was harmed.
"He saved our lives," exclaimed Jacques feelingly. "Who was that?"
"Fisché," replied one of the men.
"Well, we'd all be dead now if it hadn't been for his nerve and quick action. What a brave man he was!"
"That mustn't happen again," exclaimed Armande. "We must clean those rats out of the tower before it will be safe for us here."
"How are you going to do it?" inquired Jacques.
"Go up after them of course. Who will go with me!"
"I will, I will," cried a half-dozen voices eagerly.
"Come along then," exclaimed Armande, and advancing to the stairway he placed one foot on the bottom step and glanced up.
As Armande's foot touched the stairs, a bullet from above struck his steel helmet a glancing blow. The helmet was knocked from his head and he staggered back against the wall. Jacques sprang to his side at once.
"I'm all right," exclaimed Armande quickly.
"Are you hurt?" demanded Jacques.
"Not at all; it merely stunned me for a second," and Armande rubbed his head dazedly. "I'll be all right directly."
"You musn't try to go up those stairs again," exclaimed Jacques, as he spoke handing Armande back his helmet, which he had picked up from the floor.
"But we must get them out of that tower," insisted Armande.
"I know," agreed Jacques, "but we'll have to find some other way to do it."
"But how?"
"I think I know how," said one of the men stepping forward.
"What is your scheme, Lippen?" asked Jacques eagerly.
"If we only had a machine-gun we could soon bring them down."
"But how could we carry a machine-gun up those stairs?" demanded Jacques. "They'd shoot us down at their leisure."
"We won't take it upstairs," said Lippen quietly.
"What is your plan?"
"Send two men for a machine-gun. When they have brought it back we will set it up here and point it at the ceiling. When we have sent a few thousand bullets through the floor the Boches will come down fast enough."
"Why will they?" demanded Jacques. "I don't see just what you mean."
"They'll come down because they won't be able to help it," said Lippen grimly. "We'll blow a hole through the floor and they'll fall down."
"I believe you're right," exclaimed Jacques suddenly. "Who will go after a machine-gun?"
Several men immediately offered their services and two were quickly dispatched on the quest. It was a dangerous mission, as the Germans from their position in the tower could shoot from the windows and have anyone below almost at their mercy. In order to divert their attention from the two messengers the men in the château started a lively demonstration. A half-dozen hand-grenades were hurled up the stairs by the daring soldiers and a fusillade of rifle and pistol shots was directed towards the same spot.
Under cover of this bombardment the messengers slipped out of the château and in safety gained the shelter of the woods. The French attack had now carried the second line of German trenches so that the château was in territory held by them. The Germans, trapped in the tower, were cut off from their troops.
"They got away safely," Jacques, who had been watching the two messengers, reported to Armande.
"Good," exclaimed Armande. "I hope the scheme will work."
"What else could we do?"
"I should like to rush the stairs," said Armande. "We can do it."
"You saw what happened to you a moment ago when you tried it," Jacques reminded him. "Probably we could do it but what's the use in getting a lot of men killed when we can accomplish the same result in some other way?"
"Probably you 're right," Armande agreed. "I hate to wait though."
The men had now withdrawn to an alcove off the main hall. This new position afforded them control of the stairway without exposing them to the fire of their enemies. The piano was dragged over to their place of refuge and a barricade built in front of it in case the Germans should try to rash them.
"How many of the Boches do you think are up there?" asked Armande.
"No matter," laughed Lippen. "They'll all be down pretty soon and then we can count them."
At this moment the guard who had been set to watch for the return of the two men with the machine-gun signalled that they were in sight.
"Good," exclaimed Jacques. "Now let's let them have a few more grenades upstairs there just to show them that we're still alive."
This plan was carried out and a series of violent explosions from the room above showed that the grenades were effective. At the same time the sentry signalled the two messengers to advance. One of them carried the tripod of the gun and the other the barrel. At top speed they set out from the shelter of the trees and started across the open space leading up to the entrance of the château.
They crouched low to the ground as they ran, endeavoring to present as small a mark as possible. Little spurts of dust all around them showed that the Germans were firing at them from above. The demonstration by the French inside the château was increased in intensity and one reckless man even ran halfway up the stairs to the landing before he threw his hand-grenade. Having hurled it, he sped down again, slipping, sliding and falling. However he was unhurt.
In spite of all these efforts the fire directed at the two messengers did not cease. So far, however, they were untouched and were only fifty or sixty feet distant from their goal. Suddenly the man carrying the barrel staggered. He reeled drunkenly for a moment and then sank to the ground. His companion, who was in the lead, was not aware of this and it was not until he had gained the protection of the château that he realized that his comrade was missing.
Of course the machine-gun was useless with one part gone. Someone would have to retrieve the other half and Armande instantly took it upon himself to be that one. Without waiting to see whether anyone else was going he dashed out of the doorway and raced towards the spot where the lost barrel lay. His appearance was greeted with a storm of bullets from the tower.
Untouched, however, he reached his goal. The barrel was lying on the ground beside the prostrate form of the soldier who had carried it that far; the soldier was dead, however, with a bullet through his heart.
Armande bent over and seizing the missing part of the gun he turned and ran for the château. All about him the bullets whined and sang; it seemed impossible that he should ever cover those few yards alive. The evening before, however, he had remarked to Jacques that having seen the new moon over his right shoulder he would be lucky. Whether or not that was the reason the fact remains that he gained the doorway and handed the barrel over to Jacques. His uniform had been torn on one shoulder and blood was oozing from the wound, which although deep, was not serious.
"Your life is charmed, Armande," exclaimed Lippen in admiration.
"I hope so," said Armande grimly. "Set up the gun."
No time was lost in this operation, and in less than two minutes the machine-gun was ready for action. The man who had carried the tripod had also brought the necessary ammunition.
"Train it on one spot," Lippen directed. "As soon as we get a hole through the floor we'll send a few hand-grenades through it."
Careful aim was taken and a moment later the gun was spitting an almost continuous stream of bullets into a space about a yard square on the ceiling. The plaster began to fly and some candelabra came to the floor with a crash. The noise of the machine-gun was almost ear-splitting inside the château but the men were all delighted at the promise of early results.
Jacques fed the long strips of bullets to the hungry gun, while all except his helper stood around in different parts of the room, their rifles held ready for instant use. All eyes were fixed upon the spot on the ceiling.
Suddenly a ray of light shone through from above. The air was filled with smoke and dust from the crumbling plaster.
The air was filled with smoke and dust from the crumbling plaster.The air was filled with smoke and dust from the crumbling plaster.
The air was filled with smoke and dust from the crumbling plaster.The air was filled with smoke and dust from the crumbling plaster.
"Keep it up!" shouted Armande.
The bullets were spraying all around the edge of the hole which grew rapidly larger. Several of the men opened fire with their rifles. The machine-gun then ceased firing.
"You can see where the beams run now," said Jacques to the gunner. "Loosen them up a little."
Once more the withering fire was continued and soon a yawning hole appeared above the heads of the Frenchmen. A table came crashing through; a chair followed close behind and a huge lamp next spun through the air and smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor below.
It must not be supposed, however, that the Germans in the tower were idle all this time. Bullets went through the opening in both directions and already two of the Frenchmen had been killed; two more were wounded. The fight was desperate.
All at once a hand-grenade, dropped from above, landed squarely in front of the spot where Jacques was stationed. It was not four feet distant from the young Frenchman. Almost without thinking he acted. Springing forward he seized the deadly missile and hurled it at the ever-spreading opening in the ceiling. He had not been a second too soon. Just as the grenade was passing through the hole it exploded.
Jacques immediately sprang back to his former position in the alcove beside the machine-gun. Lucky it was for him that he did so. The hand-grenade exploded and the ceiling which already was greatly weakened speedily collapsed.
Plaster, furniture, rafters and men poured down in a mass. The force of the explosion had literally torn the ceiling to pieces and, the supports gone, it collapsed at once.
"Anyone left up there?" shouted Armande.
"Not a soul," replied Jacques quickly. "Watch out below though."
Many of the Germans were buried deep under the mass of débris on the floor. Here and there an arm appeared and the French were busily engaged in extricating their enemies from the heap. Seven men were taken out alive, suffering only from bruises; four more were captured badly wounded and six were found dead.
"Well I guess the fight's over," sighed Armande when the Germans had been deprived of their weapons and the pile had been thoroughly searched for any more bodies.
"Seems to be," agreed Jacques. "How about these men?" he asked, as he spoke, indicating the prisoners that had been taken.
"We'll take them back to our trenches of course," said Armande.
A few moments later the little band had left the ruined château and were on their way back to their lines. The struggle was still continuing violently and both sides were fighting desperately for possession of the disputed positions.
Arriving in the trenches Armande, Jacques, Lippen and the others soon found their regiment and having turned over their prisoners were quickly in the fighting again. Leon, Earl and Dubois were posted side by side and Armande and Jacques joined them at once.
"We thought you were dead, Jacques," cried Leon, delighted to see his comrade once more. "Where did you come from?"
The story was quickly told and just as it was completed the officer who had directed Jacques to set off the mine-field approached the place in which the boys were standing.
"Young man!" he exclaimed heartily, catching sight of Jacques, "you did splendid work. You saved our lines and made possible this counter-attack. You disappeared though and I feared you had been lost."
"I saw our men coming forward and I could not resist the temptation to join them, sir," said Jacques modestly.
"Well, I'm glad to see you again," said the officer. "We need men like you."
"They're all as good if not better," exclaimed Jacques earnestly.
"That's right too," agreed the officer. "Every Frenchman is a hero in these days of trouble."
He passed on and Jacques turned again to his comrades.
"Tell me," he exclaimed, "what has happened here?"
"Everything," said Earl grimly. "They certainly did pepper us and it was only a few minutes before you came back that they let up at all."
"They're still fairly busy I should say," remarked Jacques.
The shells were bursting all around in endless succession but fortunately the fire of the German batteries was directed mostly upon the positions to the right and left of those occupied by thedouzième.
"They'll hit us before long," remarked Dubois.
"What do you mean?" asked Earl. "A counter-attack?"
"I think so. They may not try it to-day but they surely will some time to-night; the Boches are getting so they like to fight in the dark now."
"Perhaps it's because they can't see the bayonets so well," laughed Armande. "They don't care much about cold steel, do they?"
"I should say not," agreed Dubois. "It's funny too for they are certainly brave enough when it comes to facing shells and machine-guns."
"Hand-to-hand work isn't suited to Germans, I guess," said Leon. "You never heard of a German being a good boxer either; they don't seem to be much good at things that need quick thinking and action."
"Germans are good athletes though," exclaimed Earl.
"In certain sports they are," Leon agreed. "They're good wrestlers and gymnasts and that sort of thing. I say that they're strong but they're not athletic. The strongest fellows aren't always the best athletes, you know."
Meanwhile the guns boomed constantly. The shells from the French guns were exploding far in advance of the positions thedouzièmenow occupied.
"They're probably shelling the ground where the Germans are trying to dig new trenches," said Dubois.
"I hope they hit 'em," exclaimed Leon fervently.
There were many dug-outs along the line of the trench. Some of them were shell-proof and were fifteen to twenty feet below the surface of the ground; the entrance to these was through a door, level with the floor of the trench. A stairway, just wide enough to permit one man to pass, led down to them. The roofs were reinforced with huge timbers and so strongly were they constructed that most of them were intact, despite the heavy bombardment to which they had been subjected.
"Have you seen these dug-outs?" Leon inquired of Jacques.
"No, I haven't."
"Come along then and I'll show them to you," exclaimed Leon. "Some of them are regular palaces."
"I doubt that," laughed Jacques as the two boys set out together.
They inspected a dug-out similar to the one described above. Then they discovered others, larger but only slightly lower than the trenches.
"Look at them," exclaimed Leon. "They must have used these for living quarters when things were quiet."
"I guess they did," agreed Jacques. "If they're all like this they're pretty good size too; this one must be six feet wide and nearly thirty feet long."
"See those logs on the ceiling; they're a foot in diameter at least."
"Yes, but they're not shell-proof. They have to be deeper in the ground than this to be safe from high explosive shells."
The two young soldiers continued along the trench. Many of the dug-outs, similar to that they had just left, were in ruins. Jacques was correct when he said they were not proof against the big shells. Most of them were destroyed, the logs splintered to kindling-wood and strewn far and wide over the ground.
"Where does this lead, do you suppose?" demanded Leon suddenly.
"Let's follow it and see," exclaimed Jacques readily.
A blind alley ran off from the main trench and it was this that the two boys were following. There was a narrow doorway at the end of the alley and through this they advanced.
"Another dug-out, I suppose," said Jacques.
"Looks like a real one," exclaimed Leon. "Whew!" he whistled in amazement as he descended the stairs and stepped out into the underground room.
"Say," said Jacques warmly, "some general must have lived here."
"I should think as much," agreed Leon. "Just look around you; rugs on the floor, pictures and mirrors on the wall."
"And a wonderful stove; let's make some tea," cried Jacques eagerly.
"Where's the tea?"
"There must be some here; there seems to be everything else."
A short search soon produced tea and crackers; a fire was started in the stove and water was put on to boil. Tea was always in demand by the soldiers; it was their favorite beverage in the trenches.
"Isn't this great?" exclaimed Leon. "War wouldn't be so bad if we only had places like this to live in."
"Did you notice that there were two entrances?" asked Jacques.
"Yes, one at each end. I suppose that's in case the trench should cave in and block up one passage-way you could still get out the other side."
"Pull up a chair, Leon," exclaimed Jacques. "We might as well be comfortable as long as we can."
The two soldiers sat by the fire and sipped their tea and chatted. Now and again a dull roar told them that the Germans were still busy and that they still had their opponents, the French, in mind.
"Do you suppose we could be hurt down here?" remarked Leon.
"If one of those big German shells happened to strike squarely over us I guess we'd be hurt all right," said Jacques.
"It would have to be a direct hit though."
"That's true and I don't believe there is much chance of its happening. This seems to me about the safest spot I've seen."
"Too bad the others don't know about it," said Leon.
"Listen," warned Jacques. "Here comes somebody now."
A moment later six soldiers filed into the dug-out. They were men from thedouzième, but belonged to a different company from that of which Leon and Jacques were members.
"Come in," cried Jacques cordially. "Have some tea."
No second invitation was needed and the eight soldiers were soon grouped around the fire, sipping canteens of hot tea. Everyone was as enthusiastic as Leon and Jacques had been and life seemed worth while once more. The time was short, however; it soon became necessary for our two young friends to leave and go back to their post.
They said good-by to their comrades and made their way outside. Coming to the little alley that led to the dug-out they stopped and listened to the artillery duel.
"The Germans are tuning up again," remarked Jacques.
"They certainly are," agreed Leon. "Did you ever notice how you can tell from the sound a shell makes going through the air just what kind it is?"
"Yes, and you can judge their direction and where they're going to fall too."
Suddenly Jacques grasped Leon fiercely by the arm. "Look out," he cried in terror, and threw himself and his companion prone upon the floor of the trench.
He had heard a sound which he knew meant danger and possibly death; the awful whistling roar of a high explosive.
A terrific explosion shook the earth. Dirt was mixed with logs and stones and showered everything nearby. The deadly lyddite blackened the faces of the two young soldiers and half blinded them. For some moments they were too stunned to move.
Finally they recovered somewhat from the shock and rose to their feet.
"Look at that dug-out, Jacques," exclaimed Leon. "It's blown to pieces."
"How about the men inside?" cried Jacques. "There are six of them."
As he finished speaking one of the trapped soldiers crawled out. He pulled himself along with one arm, for the other was terribly shattered; one of his legs hung only by a tendon and a few shreds of flesh.
"Quick, Leon!" cried Jacques. "Cut the cord from your bandolier; you tie up his arm and I'll attend to his leg. We must stop this flow of blood or he'll die."
The wounded soldier was a fine, healthy boy; a few minutes before he had been telling what he planned to do when he went home on a furlough. Now his face was white with agony; his voice grew weaker and weaker and he died while Jacques and Leon were working over him.
"This is awful," cried Leon fiercely.
"This is war," said Jacques.
High explosive shells were now bursting all along the line; tons of earth were thrown high into the air and the very ground rocked beneath their feet. Men hurried from one spot to another trying to find protection where there was none; oftentimes masses of earth were blown in on top of them.
"Picks and shovels!" came the cry, and "Stretcher bearers! Stretcher bearers!" resounded on all sides.
"The rest of those men in the dug-out are dead, Leon," said Jacques calmly. "We can do nothing for them and the thing for us to do is to rejoin our company."
"Think of it," exclaimed Leon as they hurried along. "If we'd stayed in that dug-out two minutes longer we'd been dead now."
"Death comes quickly in war," remarked Jacques. "It hangs by a thread and you never can tell when it is going to strike you."
They soon reached the spot where their company was located and along with the rest of those who were off duty were immediately ordered into the deepest of the shell-proof dug-outs, where they were really quite safe.
"We're in for it, I guess," remarked Dubois laconically, as Jacques and Leon entered the dug-out. Earl and Armande were also there.
"Sure we are," exclaimed the latter brightly. "What of it?"
"There'll be a lot of our men killed."
"Not half as many as there will be Boches," said Armande. "Just wait until they send their infantry out; our machine-guns will make them wish they were back in their trenches."
"You're an optimist, Armande," said Earl. "Just listen to those shells up there."
"The Boches will come out about dark," said Armande. "We might just as well sleep until then."
"Not with that going on," exclaimed Leon. "At least not for me."
An hour later they were all ordered out. Every man had on a mask to guard against the poisonous gas that the Germans used so frequently just before they launched their attacks. Oftentimes too they would shower the opposing trenches with shells, causing irritation and smarting of the eyes so that the men could not see to shoot. Now and again they used liquid fire which shot out half a hundred feet from especially made machines somewhat resembling the nozzle of a hose.
The surprising thing is that the French could withstand all those terrible engines of destruction. Sheer courage had helped them the first time they were used and after that they were always provided with some good means of defense. The French are remarkably quick to learn.
It was dark as the men came up out of the dug-out. They had scarcely taken their places when there was a sudden hurricane of rifle and machine-gun fire. Almost instantly the whole battered landscape became lighted up under the flare of innumerable trench-rockets. Far ahead, the enemy, in irregular lines, could be seen advancing to the attack.
"Here they come," cried Armande. "Let 'em have it!"
A pitiless infantry fire was turned upon the Germans. An almost solid sheet of flame issuing from the French rifles marked the curve of their trenches. Almost at once the French artillery caught the range of the advancing troops; the air was filled with the roar of the bursting shells and the sad-soundingwhing-g-gof flying shrapnel.
"No one can possibly come across that space alive," cried Leon incredulously.
"Yes, they can too," exclaimed Armande and a moment later the sharp staccato of a hand-grenade bursting nearby warned them that some of the enemy at least were already within striking distance.
The men worked feverishly. Rifles became hot they were fired so fast and so constantly. Hand-grenades were popping all around now and the noise became deafening. Like gray ghosts the Germans appeared under the flare of the guns and the weird light of the trench-rockets.
The French machine-guns mowed the Germans down like grass and the fact that they still came on was a high tribute to their bravery. Gradually the firing died down and the noise lessened. Broken and beaten back the Germans turned and fled. A cheer went up from the French line, while a farewell volley was poured into the mass of retreating Germans.
"What did I tell you?" demanded Armande triumphantly. "I knew they couldn't touch us and I'd just like to see them try it again."
"It cost us something," said Earl.
"Yes, but not one-quarter of what it did them."
"I hope not," agreed Earl. "It always costs the attacker more."
The strain of the fight let down and a reaction set in. The ground was strewn with the dead and dying and the moans of the wounded were anything but pleasant to hear. During the fight every man nerves himself to face whatever comes; afterwards there is sometimes a complete swing to the other extreme.
Arms and legs stuck out from heaps of earth. Dead men lay all around; blood was on everything. Nauseating odors filled the air. Suddenly from a spot directly behind Earl came a sound that made his blood run cold.
Lippen, the soldier who had fought so valiantly in the château, suddenly sprang to his feet. He uttered a wild, hideous, hysterical laugh and seizing an arm that protruded from the trench in front of him he hurled it far out over the battlefield.
He shrieked raucously and then suddenly sat down and began to sob. His companions gazed at him a moment in surprise and then in pity.
"What is it, Jacques?" demanded Earl. "What ails him?"
"He's crazy," said Jacques quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"He's gone insane; his nerves are shattered."
Lippen sat and sobbed; now and again he raised his head and gazed about him and the look in his eyes showed that all his reason had departed.
"How awful!" exclaimed Earl with a shudder. "Do you suppose he'll ever get well again?"
"It's hard to say," replied Jacques. "Sometimes they do and sometimes they don't."
"I've heard about these things happening in the trenches," remarked Leon. "This is the first case I've seen."
"There are a good many made the same way," said Jacques soberly. "The terrible strain and the awful slaughter affect men's nerves so that they sometimes go entirely to pieces. It is very sad."
"It's horrible!" muttered Earl with a shudder.
"For my part I'd rather be killed," said Leon.
Attendants came and led poor Lippen away. Perhaps with constant care and prolonged quiet his shattered nerves might mend. At any rate he was but one small part of the army and the war must go on whether he was gone or not. Of course all would be done for him that was possible, but after all one man more or less is a very tiny part of a big army. If sympathy was expended on every pitiful case there would not be much time left for fighting.
As the soldiers crouched behind the parapet Captain Le Blanc approached the spot where Jacques was seated.
"Private Dineau," he said, "I understand that you are an aviator."
"Yes, sir," exclaimed Jacques, quickly springing to his feet and saluting.
"You were once attached to the flying corps?"
"Yes, sir."
"You think you can still drive an aeroplane?"
"I am sure of it, sir."
"Very good," said the captain. "Come with me."