CHAPTER VIIITHE ADVANCE CONTINUES
The queer-looking litter, as Bowers termed it, came suddenly to life.
The quartet of Germans tumbled in a sprawling, jerking heap. One sprang in the air, raising and overturning the litter as he did so. The gray blanket which had covered it fell off and Bowers’ suspicions were confirmed. It was a machine gun the “Red Cross” counterfeits had been carrying away.
“Good job there, sir,” Bowers called to Hal.
The lad nodded grimly to himself.
“So that’s the way they play the game, eh?” he said. “Well, I’ll be prepared for them when they try another trick like that.”
The tank jangled on.
Out of a hole in the ground, partially hidden by a tangle of old wire, suddenly popped a German boy in soldier’s uniform. His appearance was so unexpected that Bowers stopped the tank abruptly.
The German’s hands were raised high in the air.
“Kamerad!” he cried. “Kamerad!”
He was so near the tank that Hal could see the tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I haven’t got the heart to shoot him,” Bowers called to Hal. “Climb out, sir, and see what he has to say.”
Hal knew as well as any soldier in the Allied armies that tanks, British, French or American, were not expected to make prisoners unless the infantry was in immediate support, and for this reason he understood what Bowers meant when the marine said he couldn’t shoot the German boy down in cold blood.
The reason may be readily understood, for the crew of a baby tank is composed of only two men. Only now and then is it possible to shepherd prisoners ahead of a tank and it is always bad practice for either of the crew to leave his steel fortalice. In this case, however, Hal took into consideration the youth of the prisoner.
“Better be careful, sir,” Bowers called as Hal opened the door and crawled out. “Remember the Boche who called ‘Kamerad’ to me awhile back.”
“But this is only a boy,” replied Hal, “and he’s crying at that.”
“Can’t help that, sir. They’re all bad actors and none is to be trusted.”
“I guess I’m safe enough,” declared Hal, as he advanced.
“Got your gun?” called Bowers.
Hal shook his head.
“I don’t need any gun for this Boche,” said he.
“Maybe not,” grumbled Bowers to himself, “but I guess I’ll just crawl out after you.”
As Hal approached the boy, the German’s face changed. He saw that Hal was unarmed, while at his side hung a handsome Luger pistol. He stopped his cry of “Kamerad” and began jerking at the fastenings of his weapon. The flap of the American holster fastens with a leather button, which facilitates hasty action, while the German holster is buckled down.
Before the German could get the buckle unloosed, Hal had him by the throat. The German fought in despairing silence now, one hand plucking at the fingers that were choking him and the other still fumbling with the gun. At this juncture Bowers, also unarmed, closed in.
In spite of his youth, the German was of powerful build and he struggled so furiously that for a moment Hal and Bowers were unable to quiet him. In the struggle, Bowers caught sight of a long, thin stiletto which the German wore at his left side. His right hand shot out and clasped the handle. The weapon flashed aloft.
“Hold on!” cried Hal. “He’s only a kid!”
Bowers caught himself just in time. With a mumbled imprecation, he cast the stiletto away from him.
“Good thing you yelled,” he said to himself.
Hal had now possessed himself of both the German’s hands and his adversary was unable to fight further. Nevertheless, the struggle would have been at a deadlock had it not been for Bowers, who now approached and relieved the German of his pistol.
“All right, you can let him go now, sir,” the marine said.
Hal released his hold and stepped back, at the same time covering the German with the Luger.
“Sit down,” said Bowers.
It is doubtful if the young German understood Bowers’ words, but he certainly caught their import, for he sat down in front of the tank.
Bowers turned to Hal.
“You see, they’re all alike, sir,” he said. “They’re not to be trusted.”
“So I see.” said Hal. “Well, I won’t be caught napping again. And this is the second one that has tried that ‘Kamerad’ trick on us in the same day.”
“Almost within the same hour, you might say,” replied Bowers. “But what are we going to do with him?”
“That’s a hard question,” was Hal’s reply. “We can’t make him prisoner and I’m not disposed to let him go scott-free in view of his actions. Guess we might as well tie him up and leave him here.”
“Suits me, sir.”
A few moments later the German was lying on the ground, his hands bound with portions of his own clothing.
“Guess he won’t bother about yelling ‘Kamerad’ again,” said Hal.
“Well, we’re all here,” said Bowers with a smile. “So where do we go from here, sir?”
At that moment, far back, came the crash of infantry fire. Turning, Hal and Bowers perceived the foremost line of advancing Americans in the distance.
“Wow!” cried Bowers, and his trench helmet went sailing high in the air. “Here they come, sir. Don’t they look fine?”
“You bet they do, Bowers,” Hal shouted, carried away by his own enthusiasm.
Indeed, it was an inspiring sight, the long line of khaki-clad figures which came sweeping forward at a slow run.
“They’ll come up to us presently. All we have to do is wait,” said Hal.
The long line came directly toward them. At the pace they were advancing they would reach Hal, Bowers and their tank in fifteen minutes. But suddenly the formation of the charging troops changed.
“Hey!” cried Bowers. “They’re not coming this way after all.”
It appeared to be true.
Still quite a distance away, the American infantry had wheeled sharply to the right.
“Flank attack,” said Hal briefly, “but it leaves us high and dry.”
“Well,” said Bowers, “I’ve heard that these contraptions,” referring to the tank, “carry signal flags.”
“We’ll hoist one,” said Hal briefly. “They may see it.”
He climbed back into the tank, reappearing shortly with a small flag which he ran up on the turret.
“Now all we can do is sit down and wait.”
“And pray that the Germans don’t arrive in force first,” Bowers added dryly.
The two sat down in the sunlight and followed the course of the battle in the distance. Gradually the American charge slowed down. From beyond, Hal could see the ranks of the gray-clad hosts as they emerged from the German lines farther back to charge the American infantry.
“They’ll get all the fight they want,” said Hal.
“And more,” agreed Bowers.
Directly Hal caught the roar of wings coming toward them. He glanced aloft. An American liaison plane was approaching.
Bowers let out a cheer.
The aeroplane approached close enough to see the signal on the turret of the tank, and signalled back that reinforcements would be sent. Then it flew away again.
“In which case,” said Hal, “we might as well get busy again.”
“My sentiments, sir,” agreed Bowers.
They re-entered the tank, leaving their prisoner still tied on the ground. The young German eyed them angrily as they disappeared within.
“Machine gun nest to the right, Bowers,” called Hal, who again manned the gun.
Without further words, Bowers headed the tank in that direction.
“They’re firing explosive bullets, sir,” called Bowers coolly a few moments later as the earth flew high to one side of the tank.
Previous to this, the use of explosive bullets against tanks had been questioned, but Hal was bound to believe the evidence of his own eyes. In the instance where the use of explosive bullets had been reported before, they had been effective in that they had set fire to gasoline in the travel tanks lashed to the machine’s sides. Hal, recalling the details of that battle, was thankful that there were no tanks of gasoline lashed to the tank in which he and Bowers were confined.
Now, it seemed to Hal and Bowers, they were in the center of a group of machine-gun nests. Hal fired as rapidly as he could bring his gun to bear.
But the Germans had developed wisdom. The machine gunners crouched down in their holes whenever the tanks were turned on them, and let gunners in other nests take up the fight. A surprising number of machine-guns were developed around the tank. Evidently the gunners had kept under cover during the previous activities of the tank and only popped up when it seemed safe.
It began to grow uncomfortably hot in the tank. The backplace which separated the engine compartment from the turret and steering room became almost red hot.
Hal’s eyes grew dim as he tried to bring the tank’s gun to bear on the enemy. He felt his senses leaving him, and his clothes began to scorch.
“Let’s go,” he called to Bowers. “I’m through.”
They jerked open the little door in the tank nose through which men rise in jack-in-the-box fashion and hurled themselves out. They struck the ground upon all fours, but picked themselves up and ran.
Through all the noise of battle that now was drawing closer to them they heard the machine-gun bullets twanging above their heads. In the distance was a bit of ruined wall. Directly they gained its shelter. Before leaving the tank they had seized their revolvers. These they now carried in their hands. The German infantry bore down on them.
“We’re in a bad way, Bowers,” said Hal quietly. “What shall we do?”
Bowers tapped his revolver, affectionately it seemed to Hal.
“We’ve got our gats!” he said.