CHAPTER VI
SHIFTED
UPON his return to duty at the new Red Cross base just south of St.Mihiel, Don Richards had been sent at once to the evacuation hospitalfour miles farther toward the front and there he reported to MajorLittle, who received him with many expressions of gratification overhis return. The two entered the surgeon’s office and supply room in therear of an old château and sat talking for a few minutes. In one cornerof the room was an army officer at a table covered with documents andthe man was busily engaged. Presently he arose and came over to themajor.
“May I trouble you for that list once again, Doctor?” he asked. “I wantjust another peep at it.”
“Sure, sure. No trouble. Oh, Colonel, I want to introduce my youngfriend here, Richards. I don’t know whether you have heard of him ornot; he did some fine ambulance work for us up at Cantigny and thenabove Thierry and along the Marne. Got one through the shoulder nearBouresches--was trying to bring in a _blessé_ there right back ofthe fight. He also got that Red Cross Hun spy who was signaling theballoon; you may remember hearing about it.”
“Remember? I guess I do. I had a hand in that; gave orders to a squadof the Marines to get him; one of them had some dope on him. Well, I’mglad to meet you, young man. But how about that shoulder? Get over itand come back to us?”
“Oh, he’s the right stuff, you may bet that!” put in the surgeon,searching for the list.
“I believe you, Major, and that’s what we want. Spin that full yarnabout the spy to me, will you, Richards?”
Don looked a little sheepish; he did not much like to talk abouthimself, but Major Little said:
“Colonel Walton is in part command of one branch of the enemyIntelligence Division here.” And Don related fully his part in the spyaffair, beginning even with the capture of the spy’s confederates backin the States and the important part also that Clement Stapley hadperformed. The colonel listened with much interest; then turned andspoke to the major:
“Doctor, you have about as many men as you really need now for drivers,haven’t you?”
“Yes, but we can always make room for another expert at it.”
“Or you can let one go if he can be of more use elsewhere. We must havemore men who are keen on spy work and this lad is a go-getter in thatparticular. Will you turn him over to me? You wouldn’t mind becominga liaison officer; would you, Richards; also a messenger at times;that is, to all appearances? Your work will really be that of armydetective, to operate in some little measure with the military policeat times, when necessary, but to gain intelligence of what the enemymay be trying to do within our lines in seeking information. In short,to stop him from getting information. Agreed?”
“Anything,” Don replied, “to help lick the Huns!
“You have an automatic and ammunition? Good! Clothes and shoes O.K.?Fine! Continue to wear your Red Cross arm band. Now then, report firstto headquarters of the First Army Corps and then to Captain Lowden,with the Twenty-eighth Division in the field. We have some informationfrom him. By the time you can get there the advance will be under wayand you’ll probably catch up with the boys somewhere west of the AireRiver; their orders, I believe, are to attack in the Argonne sector.You will find an ambulance or a lorry going up; the pass I shall giveyou will take you anywhere. You are starting out without any definiteinformation now, but such may come to you from time to time. Now then,I’ll swear you and you can get on the job at once. Your rank will be asergeant of infantry; the pay----”
“I don’t care what the pay is, Colonel. It’s the duty I’m after,” Donsaid.
A little while later the boy was on his way with half a dozen jolly,care-free fellows, who were a sapper squad, and two others who weretransferred army cooks, all loaded into a big transport _camion_ thatthundered, jolted, creaked and groaned, sputtered and backfired overthe uneven and rutted roads, stopping now and then for deliberaterepairs, to cool the motor or for meals, when a rest was always inorder, together with card games or crap shooting, accompanied by a vastamount of hilarity.
Don took no part in these latter performances, but was an intentobserver; he very plainly smelled alcohol fumes among the men and henoted that the driver, a morose and silent fellow, was evidently notunder the influence of the beverage that was being passed around. Theboy bided his time. Presently a bottle was offered to him, but hedeclared that it made him sick. A little later there was a call formore and the driver stopped the car, reached back under his seat andbrought forth a bottle of yellow fluid which was handed around, thedriver himself persistently refusing to imbibe. Don watched him andsaw the fellow’s eyes take on a queer, wicked glance at the increasingintoxication of the men. The boy liked this so little that he decidedsomething must be wrong; at least there was open disobedience tostrict orders against the use of intoxicants, this being dared becauseof the isolation of the long run somewhat out of the usual routeand the expressed desire of everyone in the lorry, except Don, whowas evidently regarded from his youth as quite unworthy of seriousconsideration. Instinctively the boy felt that here was a chance forsome investigation along his new endeavor.
Some risk was being run by the party; an M. P. was sighted ahead as herode toward them. The driver gave them all a signal and comparativequiet ensued, with only one choked-off snatch of a song. The policemanreined in his horse, turned partly and gazed after the lorry, evidentlythought better of following them and they were presently as noisy asever.
Another stop was made. Don did not believe, nor could he detectanything was the matter with the motor. Several of the men got out andstarted another crap game; some were asleep, or near it, inside thecar. Don saw and took his chance to have a quiet word with the driver,though he foresaw that he must prod his own nerve.
“What’s the use of just delaying a little?” he said, looking the otherin the face, with a wink. “Why don’t you run into the ditch and thenget under and disconnect your steering rod, chuck the bolt away andblame it on that?”
“What you talkin’ about?” demanded the driver, turning almost savagelyupon the boy.
“Why, it’s a nice day if it doesn’t rain tomorrow,” Don said, laughinga little. “I said cross steering rods are often weak and ditcheshandy. That’ll fix these _teufels_ so they can’t get to the front.”
“Who wants to fix them?”
“Why, don’t you and I both want to? What use are they there, anyway?The Fatherland doesn’t want anyone there; that I know.”
“Say, who are you and what?” the driver quickly demanded.
“You can see,” Don said. “Liaison officer messenger, Red Cross. I’vegot enough to keep them from even guessing who I may be. You don’t needto tell who and what you are; I know.”
It was an awful bluff, barely a guess, but Don reasoned that nothingventured nothing have, and now that he had started to burn his bridgeshe would go ahead with his quest.
“Get out; you don’t know nothin’ ’bout me,” denied the driver.
“Nothing about where your orders came from, eh? When I get mine fromthe same general source? We’ve all got to work together. Say, if youhaven’t the nerve to ditch her, let’s start on and give me the wheel;I’ll do it. And I know a way we can get off unsuspected, too.”
“Aw, gwan! You’re kiddin’ me, Sarge.”
“Aw, don’t be a clam! Your think works must be rusty or your mush casetoo thick. Come on, get her to going and let me show you a thing or twothat’ll put you wise.”
“How’d you get into this, Sarge?”
“How’d a lot of us get into it? One kind of money is as good asanother, if it’s good in exchange. And it’s big money, too, eh? Youknow that. Quit your hedging, fellow, and let’s talk sense. Going tolet me ditch her?”
“You daren’t ditch her. If you do, I reckon you’re givin’ me thestraight dope. But let me say this first: You talk A-1 American; how,then----?”
“Well, what of that? So do you. But that doesn’t keep my folks frombeing--well, maybe like yours are.
We’ve both listened to ‘_Deutschlanduber alles_’ enough to know it by heart, haven’t we?”
“Let’s see you ditch her. I don’t believe you’ve got the nerve,” thedriver said and shouting “all aboard!” they started the motor, glidingoff as soon as the passengers were in the car. Fortune favored Don atthe wheel. The driver saw at once that the boy knew how to handle thebig car; the fellow sat watching him closely; watching also the road.It was very rutty for a stretch, but the ground was solid; anothermotor car could pull them out of the ditch if they couldn’t get outalone.
The boy could not be sure of his ground; there were too manycontributing circumstances for him to be altogether wrong. Yet therewas a large element of risk, too, and it required all his courage to dowhat he did. It was really more impulse than an act of clear reason,but often unerring inspiration may come in leaps from an uncertainfooting. And now before Don lay one course or the other; he had tochoose and that quickly. Showing a lack of nerve would defeat hisobject.
There was a sudden grinding of brakes, a sudden swaying, a big jolt, asplash. Skidding into the ditch went the big car and stopped almost asthough coming against a tree trunk. Half of the passengers were in aheap on the floor.
“You done it! You done it all right, _señor_. I didn’t think you hadthe nerve, but you done it!” whispered the driver fiercely.
“Now let’s get out and look her over,” Don said in a calm voice whichbelied his feelings.
They jumped to the ground, hearing expressions of injury and protestfrom those within. Around at the front of the car the man and boy werequite alone.
“She’s fixed now, I think.” Don’s manner appeared stern.
“She is. We’d better attend to that rod and bolt, as you----”
“Plenty of time. Say, this is getting results. It’ll even things upwith me and the coin---- Say, where did you say you’re from?”
“I didn’t say yet. Want to know? I’m Mexican born; folks came fromBavaria. Foreign colony at home; talk English mostly. My old man andhis crowd lost all their money----”
“Where do we go from here, Betsy; where do we go from here?” sang oneof the sappers within.
“We don’t go; we stay awhile, blast your boots!” yelled Don.
“--through an English oil syndicate; he was tryin’ to do them and theywere tryin’ to do him and did it. Reckon there’s some way of gettingsquare. I enlisted from El Paso. What’s your trouble?”
“Mebbe you’d be surprised if I tell you I was born in Germany andlearned to talk English on a visit to America, where they got me forthis scrap. Who do you take your orders from? I get mine from----”
Don paused, as though listening; then added: “That slow shooting isGerman machine-guns. Give it to ’em, Fritz, me boy!”
“I get mine from a liaison sergeant; he’s up at the front now. Got ’emcomplete fooled, he has. A German fellow that was in America before thewar broke out. He raised the roof over there, he says; helped to blowup one ammunition storehouse and set fire to a gun factory.”
“Mebbe I’ve seen him and I ought to know him. What’s he look like?” Donasked, making no attempt to hide his eagerness.
“Short, thick-set; looks something like a wop. Little mustache; has acast in his eye. Good feller, though, and free with the coin. You canask one of the cooks in there--the big one; he’s with us, too; German.Where’d you say you got your orders?”
“From the United States Government!” Don replied, suddenly pulling hisautomatic. “Now, hold up your hands! Up, up, I say, and keep ’em uphigh!”
The Brighton Boys in the Argonne Forest Page 7
