71CHAPTER IXON THE FIRING LINE
The training Ned, Bob and Jerry went through in the French camp, though on a more intense scale and with greater attention to detail, was much like that which they had obtained at Camp Dixton, and that has been related at length in the volume preceding this.
There were the same drills to go through, only they were harder, and in charge were men who had seen terrible fighting. Some of them were American army officers, sent back from the front to instruct the new recruits, and others were French and British officers, detailed to teach the raw troops who, at first, were brigaded with the veterans.
It was rise early in the morning, drill hard all day, attend some school of instruction in the evening, and then, after a brief visit perhaps to the Y. M. C. A. hut or one of the other rest tents, go to bed, to get up and do it all over again the next day.
But the boys never felt it monotonous, nor did they complain of the hard work. They knew it72was necessary, and here on the very fighting ground itself—in wonderful France—there was a greater incentive to apply oneself to the mastering of the lessons of the war.
Then, too, they saw or heard at first hand of the indescribable cruelties and atrocities of the Huns. Ned, Bob, Jerry, and their comrades saw with what fervor the French and British were proceeding with the war, and their own spirits were inflamed.
No work was too hard for them, from learning to throw hand grenades, taught by men who had had them thrown at them, to digging trenches laid out after the fashion of those on either side of No Man’s Land. Then came small sham engagements, when, imagining the sample trenches to be held by Germans, a company would storm them to drive out the “enemy.”
In fair and rainy weather this work went on, and it rained more often than not, as Jerry wrote home to his mother. The chums could write, but there was no telling when the missives would be delivered, nor when they would get any in return, for there was such congestion that the mail service broke down at times, and no wonder. So, though eventually the home folks—and in them is included “the girls”—got all the mail intended for them, there were days of anxious waiting.
Meanwhile the Motor Boys were perfecting73themselves as soldiers, and were winning the commendation of their officers. Jerry was promoted to be first corporal, and in his squad of seven were Ned and Bob, much to their delight.
“It’s a pleasure to take orders from you, old man,” said Ned.
“Well, I won’t give any more than I have to,” remarked the tall lad, now taller and more bronzed than ever.
Professor Snodgrass had managed to find quarters in a village not far from camp, and from there he came to see the boys occasionally. He was getting his affairs in shape to proceed with the study of the matter at present under his attention.
“Have you heard anything from Miss Petersen or Miss Gibbs?” asked Jerry.
“No, not a word,” was the answer. “I have sent several letters, and made inquiries of the authorities here, but the latter give me very little encouragement. That’s bad, too; for I’ve just had word from home that makes my share in that inheritance seem of more importance than ever,” and the professor gave a little sigh.
“Why, what’s happened, Professor?” questioned Jerry, with quick sympathy.
“I lent some money,” explained Professor Snodgrass, “to one of my friends—an old friend with whom I went through college—to help him74over a hard place. But he has not got over his troubles; in fact, his affairs are growing worse, and it looks as if I would never get my money back. And that will cripple me, cripple me badly, boys. Yes, I need the money that Professor Petersen was good enough to leave me.”
“Well, let’s hope that you find those girls quickly, Professor, and get that inheritance very soon,” said Ned.
“But I am afraid I shall have to wait until you boys capture Germany, and then I can go in and search.”
“Us boys—with help,” chuckled Jerry.
“Well, if it keeps up the way we’ve started we’ll soon have the Hun on the run!” declared Ned, and he spoke with some truth, for soon was to be the beginning of the successful American advance.
Greatly to their relief the boys saw little of Noddy Nixon, for he was housed in barracks at the opposite end of the camp from those in which they were billeted. But they met him occasionally, and listened with ill-concealed disgust to his boasts, and his talk of having tried in vain to enlist before he was drafted.
“If they’d give me an aeroplane I’d go over the German lines and make ’em sit up and take notice!” boasted the bully.
“Why don’t you send home for what’s left of75your ‘Tin Fly’?” asked Ned, with a wink at his chums.
“Aw, you dry up!” commanded Noddy, for this airship, which he had once built to compete in an exhibition, was a sore point with him, as it had not justified its name.
Meanwhile, all along the line in the sector where the American troops were stationed hard fighting was going on. On either flank were French and English forces, but the boys of Uncle Sam were holding up their end of the work exceedingly well.
“When can we get into it?” sighed Ned one evening, when reports came in of heavy fighting, during which certain American units had won distinction.
“Very soon, so I hear,” returned Jerry. “Our intensive training is nearly over. We may be moved up to the front any day now.”
“The sooner the quicker,” cried Bob. “Maybe the eats won’t be so good farther front, but we’ll see some action!”
Of course, there had been “action” in plenty at camp, but it was of the safe variety, and this did not appeal to the boys.
Then their chance came. One morning after drill emotion, like electricity, seemed to run through the camp.
“What’s up?” came the queries from all sides.76
“We’re ordered to the firing line!” was the answer.
And then came cheers! Cheers that showed of what stuff America’s fighters were made.
The news proved true. That evening, under the cover of darkness, so that no lurking Hun planes might detect the movement, a considerable body of troops from the training camp was sent up toward the front, to relieve some battle-scarred units.
At first, as the three chums and their comrades marched along, there was joking and laughing. Then this died away. The seriousness of the situation began to be comprehended. It was not that any one was afraid. The boys were realizing the gravity of the occasion, that was all.
“Hark! what’s that?” asked Bob, as he marched along with Ned, Jerry, as corporal, being file leader. “Is it thunder?”
They stepped lightly so as to listen more intently.
“The guns!” explained a lieutenant hurrying past. “Those are the guns on the firing line you hear. There must be a night attack.”
The guns of the front! Fighting was actually very near, for, though the boys in camp had often heard a distant rumble when there was a big bombardment on, this was the first time they had heard so plainly the hostile guns. It gave them77a thrill, even as they felt the ground tremble beneath them.
And so, in the darkness, they moved up to their new camp—a camp on the very edge of the fighting; and from where they came to a halt, to wait for morning before being assigned to the trenches, they could see the lurid fires that flared across No Man’s Land.
Tired and weary, but with an eagerness nothing could subdue, the chums and their comrades awoke the next morning as the bugle called them. At first they could not realize where they were, and then with a rush it came to them.
“On the firing line!” cried Jerry. “Just where we wanted to be! Now for some action!”
Hardly had he spoken when there sounded a terrific explosion, and the boys were fairly blown off their feet, toppling to the ground.
There was action for them!
78CHAPTER XIN THE TRENCHES
Stunned and bruised, the three chums and several of their comrades around them were incapable of action for a little while. Then, as Jerry raised himself from the ground, he heard Bob ask:
“What hit us, anyway? Are the Germans attacking?”
“Gee!” was Bob’s muttered protest.
“Get up!” some one cried. “You’re all right. It was a bomb from a Hun plane, but it missed its mark.”
“Seems to have hit me all right,” observed Ned, whose face was bleeding, though only from scratches.
“You were knocked down by the concussion,” explained the officer who had told them to get up. “It was a close call all right, but no one is hurt. Fall in for roll call!”
Ned, Bob, Jerry, and some of the other soldiers scrambled to their feet. They had been on the point of answering roll call when the explosion79came, and now that the danger was over, at least for the time being, they had a chance to see what had caused it.
The aeroplane from which the bomb had been dropped was not now in sight, but this is what had happened. One of the German machines passing over the front line, as they often did, had escaped the Allied craft, and had also managed to pass through the firing of the anti-aircraft guns. Whether the machine had gone some distance back, hoping to drop bombs on an ammunition dump, or whether it came over merely to take a pot shot at the American trenches, was never known.
But the aviator had dropped a large explosive bomb, which, luckily for the Motor Boys and their comrades, had fallen into an open space, though not far from one of the camouflaged stations where the soldiers were quartered before being taken up to the front-line trenches. The explosion had blown a big hole in the ground and damaged some food stores, but that was all, except that when the Americans were about to answer roll call they were knocked down by the concussion, and some, like Ned, were scratched and cut by flying dirt and stones, or perhaps by fragments of the bursting bomb.
“See, no one is hurt,” went on the officer, as if to reassure those who were soon to take their80places in the front-line trenches. “Good luck was with you that time.”
“I hope it keeps up,” murmured Bob. “It’s a mean trick to shoot a man before he has his breakfast,” and then he wondered why the others laughed.
They all looked curiously, and it may be said, thankfully, at the big hole made by the bomb. As the officer had said, only good luck had prevented some of the boys from filling that hole.
After this Jerry was silent and thoughtful.
“Well, what’s next?” asked Ned, after an examination had shown that his wounds were merely scratches, for which he refused to go to the hospital, or even a dressing station.
“Breakfast, I hope,” said Bob, and this it proved to be.
The excitement caused by the dropping of the bomb soon died away, though Ned, Bob, Jerry, and some of the other soldiers who had not yet been under hostile fire, felt their nerves a bit unsteady for some time.
But the veterans, of whom there were many, appeared to take it as a matter of course. It had happened before, they said, and probably would again.
“But that’s what we came here for—war,” remarked Jerry, as he and his chums finished their breakfast—no very elaborate meal, and one to81which little time was given. “We’ve got to take our chances.”
Up and down the line, on either side of the sector where the three chums were to receive their baptism of fire, already begun, could be heard dull booming. It was the firing of heavy guns, and might indicate an attack in progress or one being repelled by either side. Here the Allied and German lines were close together, in some places the front-line trenches being less than six hundred feet apart. Between was the famed and terrible No Man’s Land.
“I wonder if Professor Snodgrass will ever get up as far as this,” mused Ned, as they prepared to go back to their quarters and begin the day’s business.
“The firing wouldn’t keep him away, if he thought he could find some bugs,” answered Jerry. “And if he wants to ascertain the effect of noises on crickets all he has to do is to bring the crickets here. We can supply the noise.”
“I should say so!” agreed Bob. “It’s getting worse, too! Listen to that!”
Indeed, with the broadening of day the noise of the big and small guns increased. Whether a great battle was impending or merely local engagements, the boys had no means of knowing.
The position to which they had been brought, and where they would spend about a week, holding82the front and supporting line trenches, until relieved by a new command, ran up and over a little wooded hill. From this vantage point, which had more than once been stormed in vain by the Germans, could be seen the country beyond No Man’s Land—a portion of France held by the enemy. And in the brief glimpse the Motor Boys had of it, smoke-covered and stabbed with flashes of fire here and there as it was, they saw something of what war meant.
“The professor is going to have some job on his hands if he expects to find any young ladies on the other side of that,” and Ned waved his hand to indicate the terrain possessed by the Huns.
“Oh, we can get through if we attack in force,” declared Bob. “And maybe that’s why they brought us up—there may be going to be an attack.”
“We’ll have to get through—for objects big and little; that the professor may find his girls and his inheritance and,” and here Ned’s lips set a little grimly, “that we may help to bring back freedom to the earth.”
“There may be an attack all right, if Foch, Pershing and the other generals think it’s a good time for it,” said Jerry. “But as for having it postponed until our arrival, well, you boys have some ideas of your ability.”83
“Oh, I didn’t mean that!” cried Bob. “I meant that maybe we’d be in the big battle.”
“I hope we are,” said Ned. “We want to do our share.”
This opportunity soon came to the boys. As soon as they reached their headquarters—a series of ruined buildings in which they had passed the night—they were told to get ready to go up and take their places in the trenches. But first they were given a little talk by one of the officers, who explained the necessity of donning gas masks at the first alarm. Other instructions were given, and then, when it was seen that every man had everything he needed, from the first-aid kit to the grotesque-looking gas mask, the trip to the first-line trenches was begun.
So much has been written about the World War that it seems needless to explain anything about the trenches. As all know, they were a series of ditches, about six feet deep, dug along in front of similar ditches constructed by the enemy. The distance between the two lines of trenches varied from a few hundred feet to several thousand.
The ditches, or trenches, were not in straight rows. They zig-zagged to make attacks on them more difficult. There were several rows of trenches on both sides of No Man’s Land. This was so that in the event of an attack the men could fall back from one line of trenches to the84other, fighting meanwhile to drive off the enemy.
The trenches were narrow, about wide enough for one man, though two might pass by squeezing. At intervals, however, were wider places where food or wound-dressing emergency stations could be established. At other places there were large excavations where dugouts were constructed, and there relief parties rested and slept if they could between periods of duty.
The bottoms of some of the trenches were covered with “duck boards,” or short planks, with spaces between to let the water run out, and in certain parts of France it seemed to some of the boys to rain about three hundred out of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.
The trenches were sometimes braced with boards and cross pieces of wood, such as is often used when a sewer is dug through the streets, and again wicker-work, or jute bagging, might be used to hold the earth firm.
Below the top of the trenches, in certain places, were projections. These were firing steps, and the men stepped up on these to aim their rifles at the enemy. In certain other places were set up improvised periscopes, so that an officer could look “over the top,” and, by a series of reflecting mirrors, observe what was going on in the enemy’s country.
Again, at other places in the trenches, light85artillery, such as machine guns and grenade throwers were set up. Here and there were little stoves to warm the food brought up whenever a relief party could get through the rain of shells. In some places heavy concrete or wooden dugouts were constructed, well under ground, though the Germans did more of this than the Allies, the Hun trenches being very elaborate at times.
And it was to these trenches that Ned, Bob and Jerry, with their comrades, were led. There they would remain on duty for a specified time differing under varying conditions, or until an attack was either made by them or by the enemy. After that, in case the enemy were successful, trenches farther in the rear must be occupied. But in the event of the German attack being repulsed, and a counter-attack carrying the Allies forward, advanced trenches—possibly those deserted by the Huns—would be used.
“Forward!” came the command, and the three Motor Boys advanced. They did not march long in open formation. To do this would be dangerous, within range of the German guns as they were, and, too, they might be seen by a Hun observer in an aeroplane. So, in a little while the advancing squad, of which Ned, Bob and Jerry formed a part, found itself in a communicating trench. This was a ditch dug at right-angles to the front-line trenches, and through this the relief86passed, and food and ammunition were brought up.
The communicating trench zig-zagged, as did the front-line ones, to provide greater safety, and the boys finally gave up trying to guess in which direction they were going. All they could see was the sky above their heads.
Suddenly, however, the trench widened, and they saw another crossing it. At this point, too, there was what seemed to be a rough door, made of planks nailed together.
“This is your dugout,” said the leading officer, indicating that Ned, Bob and Jerry, with some others, were to remain there, while he led the rest farther on.
“Glad you’ve come,” remarked a haggard-looking officer, who was to be relieved by the commander of the squad in which were the three chums.
“Has Fritz been bothering you?” asked Lieutenant Anderson, who was in charge of the relief.
“Has he? Well, rather! And then some! You have my permission to stay as long as you please! Come on, boys!” and he led his war-weary men back to a rest billet.
“Make yourselves at home, fellows,” said the lieutenant. “And wipe your feet before you come in,” he added with a laugh, as he looked down at his muddy boots.87
The passwords had been given and received. The other relief party had passed on to allow other worn-out men to get some rest. Ned, Bob and Jerry looked about them. They were in a dirt ditch, filled here and there with puddles of water from the last rain, and the clouds still hung in the sky.
“Where are the German trenches?” asked Ned.
“Where? Right in front of us—over there,” and the lieutenant pointed. “Wait, I’ll show you, and everybody get this, and take a lesson from it!” he added.
He held up a steel helmet on the end of a stick. In an instant it went spinning off and fell at his feet in the trench. He picked it up, pointing grimly to a neat little hole through it and said:
“That’s what will happen to any one of you if he sticks his head up. You’re in the front-line trench. Don’t forget it!”
88CHAPTER XIA NIGHT PATROL
Every one who saw the heavy steel hat so neatly pierced by the swift bullet was impressed by the object lesson, as the lieutenant had intended all of them should be. But, somehow or other, Bob Baker seemed more fascinated than either of his chums, and, indeed, more than any other member of that particular relief squad.
“Did a Hun bullet do that?” asked Bob, as he picked up the head protector and looked at the hole.
“That’s what it did, my boy,” answered the officer. “And that’s what will happen to you, or any one else, if you stick your head up above the trench.”
“And the Huns did that!” murmured Bob, who seemed not to be able to efface from his mind the picture of the punctured, spinning helmet. “Then we’re right within range of their fire.”
“Considerably so,” answered the lieutenant. “In places the German trenches are only six hundred feet away, and that’s nothing for the modern rifle. It can kill at over a mile.”89
“So, Chunky,” observed Jerry, “you’ve been under fire now.”
“Yes,” said Bob, and his voice was sober, “we’ve been under fire.”
“Of course this isn’t anything!” the lieutenant exclaimed with a laugh, as he kicked aside the bullet-punctured helmet Bob had dropped. “This is just a little byplay. You’ll be under heavier fire than this, but don’t worry. It takes a good many bullets to get a man. However, don’t think of that. Do your duty. That’s what you’re here for!”
The lieutenant looked somewhat anxiously into the faces of the relief squad he was to command. Every officer likes to know that he has the bravest of men in the army, and this young officer was no exception. The firing line where the Motor Boys now were—the front-line trenches—was no place for cowards.
But the faces that looked back into the young lieutenant’s gave no reflection of fear. And at this he breathed in relief. There was puzzled wonder on the countenance of some, and grim determination on others, and this last was what counted.
And then began for the Motor Boys and their chums a life of the utmost tension, strenuousness, and danger, although theirs was a comparatively quiet sector at that particular stage of the war,90and they were holding the trenches more to guard against a surprise attack than anything else.
“Well, there’s one comfort,” remarked Jerry, as he was placed in his station in the trench, with Bob on one side and Ned on the other, both within talking distance.
“What?” asked Bob. “Do we get better eats here?”
“Eats, you heathen!” exclaimed Ned. “Can’t you forget that once in a while? What are you going to do if the Germans make you a prisoner? They won’t feed you at all!”
“Then I won’t be a prisoner!” declared Bob. “But what were you going to say about comfort, Jerry?”
“We don’t have to drill,” was the answer.
And this was true. All the life of the camp was now done away with, even the training camp of France, where the boys had finished their war education, so to speak. But if they did not have to drill there was plenty else to occupy them.
While on duty in the trench they had constantly to be on the alert, and this not to guard against the unexpected approach of some friendly officer, bent on determining how his sentries were performing their duty, but to be on the watch against the approach of a deadly enemy. There must be no sleeping—not even dozing—on post.
Then, too, there was work to do. There was91food and water to bring up, and fire wood to scurry for when the chance offered, for it was not often possible to bring up hot rations to the front lines, and the boys heated their own as best they could, in discarded tin cans with a few twigs for fuel.
There were lines of trenches to cut, dugouts to repair after they had been blown to bits by the German guns, and there was barbed wire to replace under cover of darkness when it had been severed by the rain of steel and lead from the enemy’s guns.
So the three chums and their comrades found no lack of things to keep them busy in the trenches. They had their hours off, of course, when they were permitted to go back to the dugout, and there, in comparative safety, they might try to sleep. This was not easy, for though in a manner they became used to the constant roaring and blasting of the big guns, there was always an under-current of disturbances of other kinds. They were on the firing line, and the enemy did not let them forget it.
Every day the aeroplanes went over the lines, and more than once there was a battle in mid-air above where Ned, Bob and Jerry were on duty. Once a Hun plane came down in flames, so near they could hear the thud as it struck.
At times, after a period of comparative quiet,92the trenches on both sides of No Man’s Land would suddenly awaken into life. This would be caused by a fear, either on the part of the Germans or the troops from America, that one or the other was starting a raid. Then the machine guns would open fire, they would be augmented by the rifles of the men, and, if the shooting kept up long enough, the rival batteries would awaken and the big guns would speak.
It was one day, when the three chums had been on duty in the front-line trench about a week, that, as they were talking about the chance of seeing Professor Snodgrass and helping him in his search for the two girls, something spun past Ned’s head with a whine, and, with a vicious ping, imbedded itself in the trench wall behind him.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Bob.
“That sniper again,” answered Ned. “That’s the closest he’s come. We’d better move, fellows, or he may get one of us.”
“A sniper!” exclaimed Jerry. “Has he been taking pot shots at you?”
“Several of ’em. I’ve tried to get him, but I can’t figure out where he hides. Better move down the trench a bit. He seems to train his gun on this particular spot.”
“Gee!” gasped Bob.
Bob and Jerry had moved up from their own stations to where Ned was placed, as it was a93quiet period of the day, and it was while they were talking that the shot came.
“I’d like to have a try at him,” said Jerry. “It’s queer he can send a bullet down into this trench. It must come from above. A shot from the German trenches wouldn’t reach here over the top, unless it was fired up, and landed here as it came down.”
“Then it would be a spent ball,” argued Bob, “and it wouldn’t sing out the way that one did.”
“You’re right,” agreed Ned. “It was fired from above—you can tell that by the slant it took as it came in. But it didn’t come from an aeroplane. There hasn’t been any over the trench for a long while. No, it’s some German sniper, and he’s out there in the woods, I believe. Up a tree, most likely, where he can fire down into our trench. He must have a long-range rifle.”
“We ought to try to get him,” argued Jerry. “Have you, Ned?”
“Yes, I’ve tried to bait him, so I could find out where he shoots from and nip him in return, but I haven’t been able to.”
“Then I’m going to have a shot at him,” declared Jerry, who was rated as an expert in the use of the rifle, as his badge showed.
But his plan of getting revenge on the Hun, who had so nearly shot Ned, was not destined to be carried out at once. For just then the relief94of the boys came up, and they were marched back to the dugout for a rest period.
It was after they had enjoyed this, and were counting on again doing their turn in the trenches that their chance came to go out on night patrol, one of the most dangerous missions in the line of duty.
So far, since the Motor Boys had come up to the firing line, there had been no really serious fighting in their immediate sector. On either side of them there had been skirmishes, but a mile or so away, so they had had no chance to participate. Also there had been night raids, but Ned, Bob and Jerry had not been in them.
This does not mean that Ned, Bob and Jerry were in no danger, for, as has been shown, a bullet came near ending Ned’s career. And aside from this, there had been bombs dropped near them from Hun aeroplanes, and once a whole portion of the trench, just beyond where they were stationed, had been caved in by a shell from a German gun, and several brave lads had been killed, while others were terribly injured. But Ned, Bob and Jerry had come out unscathed.
Also there had been waves of gas—the ordinary chlorine gas, and again the more dangerous mustard variety. In fact, the Germans used their yellow-cross and their green-cross gases alternately against the sector where the Cresville chums were.95But prompt use of the protective masks prevented any casualties.
So, as has been said, when the three chums were resting in the dugout, wondering what their next duty would be, an officer came in, and, when he had returned the salutes, he said:
“Volunteers are wanted for a raiding party to-night. There’s a German dugout not far away, and the commander thinks we have a good chance to get some prisoners and thus learn a thing or two about what Fritz is up to in this section. There’s also a chance, as I needn’t mention, that none of us will come back. Now then, who wants to go?”
There was a moment of hesitation, and then, to the credit of the young soldiers, every one stepped forward.
“Um!” mused the officer. “I can’t use you all. Thank you, just the same. Now let’s see,” and he proceeded to pick out his squad.
To their delight Ned, Bob and Jerry were selected, and at once began to prepare for the dangerous mission. None of them gave more than a passing thought to the reflection that all might safely return or none of them come back.
96CHAPTER XIIBOB IS MISSING
Careful preparations had been made for this night raid. It was the constant effort of both sides, during the period of trench fighting, to get possession of facts which would allow successful attacks to be carried out later. And to do this it was needful to get close to the enemy’s line. By so doing, certain things might be overheard in the talk among the soldiers, or (for the results of the listening were uncertain) better still, was the capture of prisoners. Once they were taken back of the lines, questioned and searched, much of value might be obtained.
This, as a matter of fact, worked much better for the Americans than it did for the Germans. If the Huns did succeed in capturing, during a raid, some of our boys, they got little information from them about the units with which the boys of Uncle Sam were connected. Nor did the Huns learn much as to the strength of the forces opposed to them, except, perhaps, in the way of exaggeration.
“The American captive is more inclined to utter97the equivalent of ‘nothing doing,’” remarked Jerry, one day when discussing the matter.
On the other hand, the German prisoners captured, almost invariably, were glad that their fate had thus been ordered. They were sure of decent treatment, they were in no more danger of being killed and, more than anything else, they would be better fed than in their own trenches.
So it is no wonder they gave valuable information under the skilful questioning of the American officers. Still this information had to be carefully checked up before being acted on, as it would not do to run into danger as a result of what some Hun captive told.
“We are going out to try our luck,” explained the lieutenant who was to lead Ned, Bob, Jerry, and their comrades, numbering half a score, out on a night raid. “There’s a German dugout not far from here, and near by a machine-gun nest, and if we can get close enough to rush it, and capture those we don’t kill, we may make it possible for a big forward movement—if the information we get is of the right sort. So get ready. Gas masks, hand grenades—rifles will be in the way—automatic pistols, of course, and don’t forget to blacken your faces.”
This precaution was always taken by night raiding parties. The Germans adopted the habit of sending up illuminating devices, known as “star98shells,” at frequent intervals over No Man’s Land. This was to guard against a party of the enemy advancing on the trenches. The shells gave a very bright light, and nothing stands out more conspicuously in such a glare than a white face. So it was the custom to blacken countenances and hands when a night-raiding party went over the top.
It was not without a little feeling of nervousness and apprehension that the three friends and their chums made their preparations. But it was an apprehension of failure rather than fear. They wanted to succeed, to get results, and they were afraid they might fail. They were not afraid, personally. Still they were taking big chances, and they all knew it.
“Ought we to leave some word for Professor Snodgrass?” asked Ned, as he and his friends were making ready about midnight.
“Word about what?” Jerry inquired.
“Well, in case we don’t come back we can’t help him in his search, as we promised.”
“If we don’t come back our friends will know it, and they can tell the professor if he inquires for us,” said Jerry grimly. “Let it go at that. If we get back we’ll be here ourselves in case the professor ever gets this far to the front. If we don’t get back—well, he’ll have to get some one else to help him. Come on!”99
The last word was given, the final preparations had been made. Then silently, like shadows of the night, the figures crept out of the trench in the darkness and advanced toward the German lines.
The American barbed wire had been cut in places to let the party through. To pass the German barrier they would have to do their own cutting, and they were provided with tools for this purpose.
Silently they went down the lane of wire, now and then passing grim sentries to whom the password was given. And then, coming to the gap in the wire, Ned, Bob and Jerry, with the others, passed through. Each member of the party carried an automatic pistol and several hand grenades. These were small, hollow containers, of cast-iron, loaded with a powerful explosive, which was set off after a certain trigger or spring or firing pin (according to the type used) was released by the thrower. The explosive blew the grenade to bits, and it was scored, or crisscrossed, by deep indentations so that the iron would break up into small pieces like shrapnel. The grenades could be carried in a pouch or in the pocket, and were harmless as long as the detonating device was not disturbed.
Silently the lieutenant led his men forward. Jerry Hopkins, the only noncommissioned officer in the squad, marched next, as in the event of the100lieutenant being killed the command would fall to him.
No talking was permitted, and each man knew what he was to do, so no orders were necessary. On and on they went, and presently they found themselves traveling over the battle-scarred and shell-pitted territory of No Man’s Land. They had got close to the German barbed wire when suddenly, as though their movements had been watched, several star shells were sent up by the Huns.
Instantly every man in the party fell flat on his face and did not move. It was the only thing to do. They resembled, as nearly as they might, the dead which lay all about them on the desolate field.
And some of the dead had been there a long time, as it was impossible for either side to bury them, though occasionally, at night, parties went out to bring in those in whom it was hoped a spark of life still remained.
Jerry found that he had thrown himself down close beside a dead Hun. He wanted desperately to move, for his position was grimly unpleasant, but he did not dare. This was not the most glorious side of war, but it was vitally necessary.
However, thanks to the precaution of blackened faces and hands, and to the dark uniforms, the party of night-raiders must have resembled101the dead all about them, for no firing followed the illumination of star shells.
Then, when it was dark again, the party rose and went on. Good luck attended them thus far, in that they reached the German barbed wire undiscovered. Then began the ticklish work of cutting it, and in this there was much danger.
For some of the wire was under great tension, and, when cut, made a twanging sound like a broken harp or piano string. And this sound carried far in the silence of that sector. Other sectors were not so quiet, for firing was going on along both lines of trenches, though what movement was under way the Motor Boys did not know.
The sound of the wire as it was cut was deadened as much as possible by having a man hold the strand on either side of the place to be cut. This helped some, but not always, as the wire twisted itself from the grips of the soldiers, and sometimes the barbs injured them.
“All cut, Lieutenant,” reported Jerry, as the final strand was severed. The commanding officer had been on watchful patrol while this was being done.
“Good!” was the low-voiced answer. “Come on, now. Every man with a grenade in either hand!”
Once more the party went forward. They were102past the first German barbed wire now, but the way was still not completely open, for more opposing strands were found farther on. However, this was not unexpected, for often three or more lines of this American invention were to be found opposing the American forces.
Once more the cutters were called into play, and as the last strand was severed a dog, somewhere within the Hun lines, barked. Instantly all in the raiding party crouched down, for a burst of star shells might follow immediately.
However, the dog must have been believed to be a false alarmist, or else he was barking at some other disturbance than that caused by the raiders, for darkness still reigned.
Then, after waiting a moment to make sure all was right, the lieutenant led his men forward. So far they had not been challenged by the enemy, but now this immunity was to end, for when they had passed the final wire barrier and were advancing with tense steps toward the German dugout, with grenades in readiness, there came a sharp, guttural order to halt.
It was in the German tongue, as they all knew, and they all realized that the crucial moment had come.
The lieutenant, seeing a figure in the darkness before him, shot at it pointblank with his pistol. There was a murmured exclamation, and the sentry103went down, his finger pressing the trigger of his rifle, discharging it as he fell dead.
“Come on now, boys! Give it to ’em!” cried the officer.
“Forward!” shouted Jerry Hopkins, and with Ned and Bob at his heels he rushed ahead, the others stumbling after him. They had reached the German trenches, and from them now poured several defenders. The main body were in the dugout a little farther on, and it was desired to attack this, and, if possible, capture some prisoners.
“Come on! Come on! Down with the Huns!” cried the lieutenant, and his battle yell was echoed by Jerry and the others.
Then began a fight in the dark, the details of which were never very clear to the Motor Boys. Bob said he let loose all the grenades he had at the advancing party of Germans and then rushed at them, head down, as though advancing the ball for a touchdown.
Ned declared that he fired his automatic pistol until he realized that it was empty, and then, throwing it away, thought for the first time of the grenades he carried. Then he began using them.
There was a deafening noise as the grenades of the Americans exploded in the faces of the advancing Huns, and they, in turn, threw hand bombs and opened fire with their rifles. The attack104awoke to life sentries and guard parties all along the line, and the scene was illuminated by a burst of star shells.
“Come on! Into the trenches! They can’t see us there so well!” yelled Jerry.
“That’s the idea!” commanded the lieutenant. “Get to the dugout!”
So desperate and sudden had been the attack of the Americans that, after the first resistance, the Germans gave way and ran back, jumping down into the trenches whence they had come.
The raiding party asked nothing better than to follow, and for a time pursued the Huns along their own trenches, the bursting star shells above giving light enough to see.
“Are you there—Ned—Bob?” demanded Jerry, as he ran on, following the tortuous line of the trench.
“I’m here!” answered Ned.
“So’m I,” added Bob. “Haven’t a shot left, though.”
“Here, take these,” and Jerry handed over some spare grenades he had in a pouch slung at his back. “Don’t pot any of our men, though. Some are ahead of us.”
On ran the Motor Boys, and in another moment they came to the dugout—a pretentious affair of concrete, now well lighted, for the alarm of the attack had spread.105
One of the raiding party threw a hand grenade inside the structure. There was a powerful explosion, not enough, indeed, to wreck the stout place, but sufficient to send the inmates scurrying out—what were left of them.
“Kamerad! Kamerad!” some of the wounded ones cried, and others held up their hands.
“Come on!” shouted the lieutenant. “Gather ’em in and let’s get back. This place is getting too hot for us.”
He spoke with truth, for on all sides the big guns were now beginning to bark, and a general engagement might be precipitated.
Some of the Americans snatched guns from the now cowed Germans, and prodded them back along the trench with the points of the bayonets. Others held hand grenades or automatic pistols ready, and the order to retreat was given.
Half a dozen Hun prisoners had been captured, but at a price, for when the lieutenant, hurrying his men back across No Man’s Land, began to look over his party, he found three were missing. They had either been killed or wounded, or were left prisoners in the trenches.
“Are you there, boys?” asked Jerry again, of his chums, and he received reassuring answers from both.
“Hurt?” was his next inquiry, as they raced across the stretch, stopping every time there was106a burst of star shells, and crouching down, making their prisoners do the same, to take shelter in some shell holes, some half-filled with water and others containing dead bodies.
“I’m all right,” Bob answered. “Only a bit scratched by some Hun’s bayonet, I guess.”
“A bullet or a bayonet touched me in the side,” came from Ned. “It’s bleeding a bit, but not much. I’m all right.”
Some of the others who were able to come back were not so fortunate, however, and two died later of wounds received in that night raid.
But the main party succeeded in getting back to the American lines, and hurried through the opening in the barbed wire, where a relief or a rescue party, whichever might be required, was in waiting.
“Good work!” commended the captain to his lieutenant. “And you got some prisoners?”
“Six!”
“That’s fine. Couldn’t be better. Get down now, there may be a Hun barrage in a minute. They’ll be ripping mad when they find out what’s happened. This was one of their main posts, and Prussians were on guard.”
Jerry and Ned were each guarding a Hun prisoner, making him walk along ahead with upraised hands, while the guns, taken away from the Germans themselves, served as compelling weapons.107
Into the trenches they had left a short time before the raiders made their way, and went to the dugout where they were to report. There the commanding officer of that sector met them.
Coming into the comparatively well-lighted place from the darkness, Jerry blinked as he looked at the captured Germans and then glanced to see how badly Ned was hurt.
He saw that his chum was pale, and noted blood on his hands, but Ned smiled in a reassuring way. Then, for the first time, Jerry noticed that Bob was not with them.
“Where’s Chunky?” he demanded.
“Who?” asked the lieutenant. “I thought we only left Black, Jones, and Porter behind. Is there another missing?”
“Bob Baker, sir,” answered Jerry. “But he was with us when we got back within our own wire. I was talking to him.”
“Send out a searching party!” ordered the captain. “It is possible he was hit and didn’t say anything about it, or a stray bullet may have found him after he reached our lines. Send out and see!”