CHAPTER XXI
ONCE MORE THE OFFENSIVE
WHIZZ! Plunk! Bang!
The men in each of the stone shelters gazed at their comrades not insurprise, not in question, but with returning horror at the burstingof the shell; some shuddering, others putting their hands over theirfaces. And into the midst of the bunch closest the watch came chargingyoung Judson, his face livid, his eyes staring, his mouth limp andjabbering, as one driven insane. He caught the nearest man by the armand flinging himself on his knees cowered behind Wilson’s legs.
“Another one,” remarked the corporal, “but this is plain shell-shock.Wait till we get the lieutenant here. Tomlinson, you tell him.”
This tall soldier, always erect, ready, precise, who now stood nearthe door, was more averse than any of the squad, excepting Jennings,to getting under cover. He barely stooped as he left his shelter andpassed along to the other one. At its doorway he gave Herbert themessage. Then he turned to go, but fell back limp into the lieutenant’sarms. Other hands stretched to assist; as they laid him on the flooronly a glance was necessary to learn his fate.
“Men, another! They’re slowly and surely getting us. At this rate ourfriends won’t be here soon enough. And Judson out of it, too. There areonly six of us left here; if they knew that down yonder they’d have usin ten minutes. Come, you fellows, we’ll call this hut the morgue andbring Jennings in here, too; the other must be the hospital. Hands andknees now and carefully!”
Death was solemn enough, but the horror on poor Judson’s face calledfrom the others words of sympathy for the victim and of detestationof the enemy. It was all in the practice of war, of course, but suchheart-touching incidents bring the natural hatred of foemen uppermost.Those of the little squad who now remained were none the less eager tohold out and fight.
Then came another shell, striking and exploding outside of the rocksagain and had Wilson possessed nerves as sensitive as those of youngJudson there would have been another case of shell-shock, for both menhad been previously jarred and shaken. It is generally the continuedand persistent menace of these horrible spreaders of death anddestruction that drive men into a chronic fear that utterly overmasterstheir strength of will. As it was, splinters of stone and shell flewthrough the lookout opening and struck the watcher in the head,painfully, though not seriously wounding him. Back he came, crawlingand bleeding, as poor Jennings would have said, “like a stuck pig.” Donbound Wilson’s head; then the leader said:
“Men, there is really no alternative for us. We cannot wait longerhere. Something has happened to Gill, or he would stop that gun again.We must get out of here by the hilltop and then Wilson will stick up awhite rag. Come on!”
The surviving five--Herbert, Don, the corporal, Kelly andFarnham--shook hands with Wilson; then creeping farther into theshadows, gained the dense growth above. At the brow of the hill Herbertagain addressed his followers:
“We must make a choice here, boys. Are we to lie low, hide, hoping forthe drive to reach us; are we to try to get through the German firstline positions, as suggested before, or are we to stay on the job andtake it out on those gunners? If you will all join me, let us go forthe chaps who have played the Old Scratch with us for the last twohours.”
“I’m with you, Lieutenant,” Farnham said.
“Of course we are,” said Kelly.
The corporal smiled and nodded eagerly.
“Then, Lieutenant Richards, we are under your leadership,” Herbertsaid. “You know how you and Gill went about it. Go to it, old sport!”
And go they did, sneaking through the thickets like boys playing Indianor hunters stalking game, Don leading the way, and they came out at theexact spot that he and Gill had reached, but there was no sign of themountaineer.
The German field piece was in the same place as before and an artillerysquad of seven or eight new men had been working the gun. Having notedthe white flag, a bit of poor Tomlinson’s shirt, on a stick they hadstopped shooting while Hun officers investigated the inside of therecent stronghold of the Yank squad. But the Hun artillery men werenot idle. They had received orders of a more exacting character thanthe shooting up of a small squad of Americans; now they were to shootat the American Army and to join in the effort to stem its advance. Soeach man was engrossed with his duties: the cleaning of the piece, theoiling of mechanisms, the storing of shells for immediate and rapid usewhen the occasion demanded.
“Now then, men,” said Don, “we’ll select a moment when all of themseem particularly busy and at the word let them have it; then charge.Herb, you take the fellow at the extreme left; I’ll take the next man;Farnham, you take the third in the line; Kelly the fourth. Corporal,that big guy with the specs is yours. And hit ’em, boys; fire atcommand! Now then, are you ready?”
What followed was a complete surprise to all concerned, Americans andGermans alike. The little bunch of avenging Yanks had planned to springsomething, most unexpected, upon their foes and the Huns themselvesfigured upon doing their duty. Was this for them a fateful spot, orwas the gun an unlucky piece, as such things are often said to be? Onesquad had been nearly wiped out here working the gun and now----
The big shell, fired from a French or an American large caliber gun,may have been aimed with precision from information given by an Alliedairplane high in air, or it may have sent its terrible messengerpartly at random, hoping that it might land somewhere even near a Hunposition. And as Don said afterward, the missile must have had goodluck written all over it, for it performed its mission fully.
As the avengers raised their rifles and waited for the deliberate wordto aim and fire, their eyes fixed upon those gray-green figures inthe open grove, they heard the whine of the great shell and amid themany long streaks of flame, the volcanic-like dust, smoke and flyingparticles of a great explosion, the entire Hun squad, with the long gunand the boxes of shells exploding also, disappeared. For many minutesthe Americans crouched there in silent awe.
“First message from our lines! Good omen!” Herbert declared.
“Effective, anyway, but awful,” Don said.
“Our boys are coming up through the valley!” Farnham exclaimed. “Didn’tyou hear that yell down there? It was a Yank cheer, sure!”
They all stood, listening intently and were swiftly convinced. Thefiring had become very rapid; there were other sounds of battle asthough an attack, fast and furious, were being made. The positions ofthe Hun platoon far down the hill and just below the spruces were beingassailed.
“Let’s go meet them!” Herbert shouted; then turned, laughing. “Any ofyou fellows had dinner recently?”
“Me for chicken, waffles and ice cream, P.D.Q.!”
“Mush and molasses wouldn’t go bad, but I could stand steak!”
“A good old Irish stew for mine, with plenty of gravy!”
“Can’t we make a short cut, Lieutenant?” They could and did; straightdown the hill, through the dense thickets, everyone racing, but Donwas well in the lead, this sort of thing being familiar work to him.Suddenly he halted, dodged back and much effort was required of him tostop all of the others.
“Herb, there’s a bunch of Huns ahead, with machine guns.”
Herbert peeped. “They’re in a position to do our boys an awful lot ofdamage. We could get around them, but we won’t. Ready, men; we’regoing to take that crowd by surprise. There are nine of them, twodepleted squads, but if we surprise them quickly----”
“They are our meat, Lieutenant,” the corporal said and Kelly echoed:
“We’ll eat ’em alive!”
Down on all fours went the five, creeping in single file after Herbert,who, in turn, followed Don. Around a cluster of birches they crept;then into a mass of prickly furze that shielded them well and yet couldprove a telltale if much disturbed. This occasioned slow going, butbeyond was a clearer space with clumps of high grass as a wide shield.Don caught the advantage, whispered to Herbert and the commandermotioned to the three others to come up, all then having an even st
art.After a little pause the word was given and a second later the five menwere leaping down, straight at the machine gunners and almost behindthe Huns, all of whom were gazing expectantly into the valley.
A German officer wheeled about and his hand went to his pistol; someonefired and the fellow dropped. Another grabbed a gun, making a club ofit, and a pistol shot put him out of business. The other officer triedto swing the machine gun around, but a rifle butt full in his facejarred the notion out of him. The remaining men, more surprised thanif a snow squall had struck them and taken completely off their guard,saw no alternative but to fling their arms upward and shout ratherunintelligible German, one word of which was recognized as “_kamerad_.”Ten minutes later, disarmed, but not appearing terribly dejected, thesix able-bodied fellows, carrying their injured comrades, were headeddown through the woods.
Putting the machine guns out of action caused Herbert a moment’s delay;Don remained by him. One of the prisoners addressed the latter in pureGerman, of which the boy understood enough to get the general meaning.
“Herb, he says there’s an _Amerikaner_, wounded, back here in thebushes. It may be Gill. Had we better go see?”
“Sure! You and I. Corporal, hold those chaps; if they try to make abreak, you men know what to do. Come on, Don!”
Into the hilltop thicket the boys, spreading out, forced their way.Presently Herbert called: “Hello! Anyone in here?” An answering callcame from somewhere ahead. The lads came together and advanced again,going fully fifty yards in all from the more open woodland on theslope. A big pine towered ahead and as usual there was a small clearedspace here, into which the boys went hurriedly. A khaki-clad figurelay on the ground, hands and feet tied with twine. Herbert and Don rantoward it.
“Hands oop, _Amerikaner_” came a terse command from the bushes and withthat four Huns, with rifles ready, leaped out confronting them.
The Brighton Boys in the Argonne Forest Page 22
