CHAPTER III
STARTING A BIG JOB
LIEUTENANT Herbert Whitcomb stood for a long half minute watching theslowly disappearing Red Cross ambulance. The car merely crept on downthe long, straight road, as though the driver were loath to leave hiscompanion of the last twenty-four hours, as indeed he was, for theseold Brighton boys, meeting thus on a foreign shore and bent on much thesame business, had become closer friends than when at school.
“I wish,” Herbert was thinking, “that Don would get into the armyservice and could get assigned with me. He’d make a crackerjack ofa scrapper; the real thing. But I suppose they’ve got him tied tohospital work.”
Then, after saluting the guard and saying a word or two to an orderlywho was waiting to receive or to reject visitors, mostly the latter,the young lieutenant passed inside. Ten minutes later he emerged againwith a happy smile on his face and, accompanied by several othermen who had also returned to duty after the healing of minor wounds,Herbert Whitcomb led the way to a waiting motor car and presently wasspeeding away to the fighting front, all of his present companionsbeing assigned, with him, to the Twenty-eighth Division and to acompany that had suffered serious depletion because of many violentattacks against the stubborn Hun resistance in the drive beyond Rheimsand on the Vesle River.
Herbert was far from being disappointed over the fact that he was notto rejoin his old battalion. Both his major and his captain had beeninvalided home and could never lead the boys again; several of hiscomrades-in-arms, among them three old Brighton boys, had been killedor pitiably wounded; there had been such a thinning out of their ranksthat nothing but a skeleton of them remained, which must indeed beonly depressing, saddening as a reminder. Moreover, this division hadnow been put in reserve where the American sector joined that of theBritish and was doing no fighting.
Much rather would the boy take up new duties with new comrades, feelingagain the complete novelty of the situation, the test of relativemerit, the _esprit de corps_ of personal equation anew. But howeverglad he was to get back again into the maelstrom of do and dare, asatisfaction inspired both by sense of duty and the love of adventure,he did not welcome the opportunity more than the boys of the --thwelcomed him. Before Captain Lowden and First Lieutenant Pondexterreceived Herbert they had been made acquainted, from Headquarters, withWhitcomb’s record and it meant good example and higher morale for anofficer, however young, to be thoroughly respected by the rank and file.
And then, within a few hours back again into the full swing of militaryprecision and custom, the young lieutenant was ready for anything thatmight or could come.
“The orders are to advance and take up a position on the up slope ofthat brown field on the other side of this little valley and thus tryout the enemy; after which we may go on and attack him. So much fromHeadquarters. In my opinion the Colonel will say to just go aheadwithout bothering to try them out.” Thus spoke Captain Lowden at abrief conference of his officers, immediately prior to the line-upafter early morning mess. And then he added, by way of sounding thehuman nature of his under officers:
“What would you say about that, gentlemen?”
Herbert waited until the first lieutenant should express himself.Pondexter was a grave and serious-minded fellow, oldish beyond hisyears, rather slow of speech, studious, thoughtful, austere.
“We don’t know how strong the Germans may be there,” he said, “andit would not be very wise, it seems to me, if an offensive weremade against greatly superior numbers intrenched, or within strong,defensive positions. But if we first try them out then we can----”
The captain did not wait for the lieutenant to finish, but suddenlyturned to Herbert:
“I’d take a gamble on it and go over the hill,” the young officersuggested. “We can be pretty sure, judging from the enemy’s generaldistribution all along the line, that just at this point they do notgreatly outnumber us; there can hardly be double our number. We aregood for that many any day.”
Captain Lowden laughed joyfully and slapped his knee. He was a youngfellow from Plattsburg and Camp Meade, an ex-football star, athleticin build, quick in his motions and decisions, stern, yet kindly towardhis men and greatly loved by them. He had already proved his heroismnear Vigneulles, during the St. Mihiel battle, when the German salientwas being flattened. He gazed at his new second lieutenant in a mannerthat quite embarrassed that youthful officer; then the captain said:
“You’ll do! Your predecessor is in a hospital in Paris; I hope youdon’t have to go there, but can stay with us. And I am blamed glad theypushed you right on through the replacement divisions and landed youhere.”
“Oh, thank you! I--I--don’t----” But the captain paid no attention toHerbert’s stammering reply, and continued:
“And I hope the general tells the colonel to send us right on over thehill.”
Perhaps that is what the brigade commander did, or perhaps the coloneldecided the matter on his own initiative; it would require a good dealof cross-questioning and then much guessing, probably, to determinethese matters. Anyway, the battalion of four companies, each originallyof two hundred and fifty men, but now considerably reduced, someof them to only half their number in spite of replacements from thereserve divisions in the rear, now advanced almost as though on parade,except that they were strung out, wide apart, making no attempt to keepin step.
And no sooner were they under way than the watchful enemy made theYanks aware that their intentions were understood, for almost instantlythe desultory firing of heavy shells and shrapnel aimed at our boyswas increased tenfold. Added to this was the continuous roar of thelatter’s own barrage, the combined American and French artillerysending over far more than shell for shell in the effort to cripple andstop the German field pieces and to chase the enemy to cover.
Of the four companies that composed the battalion advancing across thisshort open space with their objective the top of the slope betweentwo wooded points, Captain Lowden’s company, composed mainly of veryyoung men, proved to be the most rapid walkers. It appeared also thatWhitcomb’s platoon, taking example from Herbert, speeded up until itwas considerably in advance of those on either of its flanks. Theadvantage of this haste seemed evident: the abruptly rising ground andthe fringe of trees at the top offered a natural shelter against theenemy fire. Thus only one larger shell landed and burst near enough tothe platoon to do any harm, but that was a plenty. It tore a hole inthe ground about a hundred feet behind Herbert and the flying pieceskilled two privates, wounded two others, the concussion throwingseveral violently to the ground, the lieutenant among them.
Herbert regained his feet instantly, looking to see the damage andcalling for a runner to hurry back for an ambulance. The lad dashedaway and a man, heavy-set, with the sleeve marks of a sergeant,marching some distance in the rear, offered the remark, with whatseemed a half sneer:
“Red Cross car just down the hill, coming up.”
“Don’t see it. Sure of that?” There was something in the fellow’smanner that nettled the young lieutenant and he spoke sharply, quickly;he must get back to his men. Then he added:
“Who are you?”
“Liaison officer. With the Thirty-fifth Division and this one.”
“Where are your men?” Herbert turned to go.
“Scattered around, of course, and on duty.” The man spoke with anattempt to appear civil, but it was clearly camouflage; his habitualcontemptuous expression and lowering glance indicated all too plainlythat he possessed some animosity toward the lieutenant. Herbert, notingthis, wondered. He had never seen the fellow before; evidently thedislike was sudden, mutual. Whitcomb ran on up the hill and rejoinedhis men, never once looking back, and the incident was at once almostforgotten.
The Brighton Boys in the Argonne Forest Page 4
