The Brighton Boys in the Trenches

by James R. Driscoll

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE TRAITOR IN CAMP

  Corporal Whitcomb could not sleep. There was no particular reason forthis, except mental worry and a too vivid imagination. Was the life intrench and gun pit getting on his nerve? Was he, a mere boy, too muchover-wrought with his responsibility? Not so; the sort of happydisposition that he possessed never balks at nerve strain nor breakswith the effort of duty, no matter how urgent, or disappointing theresult.

  Despite the trials upon his sense of justice and naturally gentle regardfor humanity he knew only duty and strove with an intense effort toperform every task entrusted to him.

  The squad had been but five days in the gun pit so far, and it seemedlike twice that many weeks. There had been the almost incessanthammering of the big gun on the trenches and distant works of the enemyand at the airplanes venturing overhead, four of which it had broughtdown in this time, added to three others since the long-barreled wonderhad been set in place. It had been a surprise to the enemy and amasterly bit of work to place these several weapons in such closeproximity to the enemy's lines and the duty had fallen upon well-pickedtroops and expert riflemen to guard these guns.

  There had been the constant sniping, night and day, by successivenumbers of the sharpshooters' squad. There had been fifty-seven men inthe pit when Herbert came, his own included; now there were but fifty.Three lay in the graveyard beyond the hill; two were sick; two, badlywounded, had been taken by the last patrol to the base hospital atLaFleche. Besides these, nine altogether, mostly of the gun crew, hadso-called trench feet, from standing long in cold water and mud and notcaring immediately for the first consequences of frost bite.

  But it was a very different matter from the impressive call to duty thatbothered Herb Whitcomb. It was simply that he could not help feelingdoubtful of one of his men.

  When Martin Gaul had qualified for the snipers, with a very fair scoreat the rifle ranges, Herbert had frankly requested that he be assignedto another squad, but the officers making the drawings had refused this.

  Before Gaul had been three days in the pit he had begun to grumble; oncehe had shown the white feather by remaining behind a nearly perfectshelter, instead of venturing out to hunt for enemy marksmen. Andyesterday he had developed his old-time grouch and ready excuses.

  Returning to the dugout, Herbert had found Gaul much better and eveninclined to be facetious. Learning of McGuire's death, he had expressedno sorrow, as the others had done, or would do when they got in.

  There had been all along a warm fraternal spirit shown among the membersof the rifle squad, each one showing a generous sympathy for and aninterest in his comrades, but Gaul had been the exception; by his ownchoice he had withdrawn from the human touch and brotherly affectionsnaturally springing up between men living the same strenuous existence.

  Was it a sense of impending danger that troubled Herbert this earlynight? Some materialistic philosophers tell us that there are no suchthings as premonitions, while others, perhaps wiser, insist that,logically, we possess a sort of sixth sense that is not always easy toanalyze. Therefore, we may receive an impression and only half guess itsmeaning or hardly know that we have received it.

  Herbert rose from his straw bed, pulled on his shoes and walked softlyinto the adjoining earthen chamber separated from that of the snipers'squad by a vertically cut mass of clay and a short partition of boards.He knew that the lieutenant labored therein over his reports, the smalldeal table lighted by a dim oil lantern.

  The officer in command looked up quickly, but Herbert put his finger tohis lips, even before saluting. Then he spoke in a whisper. "Do you sortof feel something in the air? I don't know what makes me feel that way,but----"

  "I reckon I've been feeling something of the kind; yes," answered thelieutenant. "At any rate, I didn't seem to want to get sleepy at myusual hour. This sort of thing bothers a fellow at times."

  "I think we must hear things we don't know we hear, or get a notion ofthem in some way," offered Herbert.

  "Well, as a Southerner--and we are quite religious in our parts, myboy--we give the Almighty credit for that sort of thing."

  "Yes, of course." Herbert sat, deeply thinking for a moment."Lieutenant, I have wondered lately about the strategic wisdom of ourposition here, to use the words of Brigadier-General Harding and ofCaptain Leighton, of our company. They often gave us a talk about that.It has struck me of late that a very few of us are defending a point ofgreat importance, one that the Boches would like to capture and destroy.How about that, if I may ask?"

  "A natural and a wise question, Corporal; very," Lieutenant Jackson madeanswer. "But rest easy. You came through at night and could not see muchon the way. Right back of us, not a quarter of a mile and on the otherside of the ridge, one whole division is in barracks, not in billets, asthe French term them, but in good, old American log houses, shielded bysand bags on this side and roofed the same way. And a mile beyond, oneach side, there are some more infantry regiments; I don't know just howmany, but enough. And there must be almost half a division in thetrenches, nearly two in all, guarding this one quiet sector and readyto start toward Berlin when the order comes."

  "I suppose putting these men in barracks is to save crowding thetrenches," offered Herbert.

  "Exactly; and it's a great scheme. But even without them I have a largeidea that the Huns couldn't get enough men on this ground to push usback an inch, much less get our trenches. And heaven help them if theytry it!"

  "We don't want them to get this gun pit."

  "They'll have to go some to do it! We're always ready for them."

  "Might they not want to attack now, especially; to recapture theirgeneral?"

  "Let them come. Two of your men and two of mine are out on the slopeagainst surprises. Three quick shots near will put us wise and the'phone will bring as many as we want to help us in ten minutes."

  "Thanks for your information, Lieutenant. I'm going to try to nap a bit.Good night."

  "Good night, my boy. Some sleep we've all got to have."

  But as Herbert passed into the outer corridor, he turned softly and inthe darkness walked noiselessly away from his quarters into the nexthollow dug in the hill, this being more enclosed and better roofed thanthe others, as it was the store-room for ammunition.

  The boy paused and stood for a long time silently; why he did so hecould not then nor afterward have told. Surely there seemed to besomething in the air, though he could hear nothing except the audiblebreathing of sleepers on every side, the scratching of the lieutenant'spen, the occasional rustle of paper as one of the prisoners' guardsturned the pages of a magazine he was reading and once the yawn of theother guard as it drew near the time when he was to be relieved.

  These two guards, Herbert knew, were in the center and at the far end ofthe section where the Germans were confined; his own man, Gaul, wasnearest the partition of the supply chamber.

  The corporal settled back upon a stack of hand-grenade boxes and leanedhis shoulder and head against the wall. He was as wide awake and alertas a cat at night, but physically tired, nevertheless. For he had beenthrough much the night before and since and without a moment of rest.

  Breaking in almost imperceptibly on the night sounds the low mumbling ofan indistinct word or two came to his ears; the prisoners talking amongthemselves, probably; what else? Leaning forward, Herbert put his eye toa very narrow opening between the partition boards. The reading guardhad the back of his head turned that way; the other man was nodding,half asleep, a punishable offense. Squinting sidewise, he saw a hand andarm reach out from the other side of the partition and a hand reach upfrom a man sitting on the ground at the edge of the bunch of Germans. Hehad a glimpse also of something white that passed from one to the other.

  Herbert almost stopped breathing; his ears caught every fraction ofsound that disturbed the still air. Seconds, perhaps half a minute,passed. Then suddenly a whispered word:

  "More!"

  Again the hands met; again the white
thing passed.

  "Right! I'll do that!" was again whispered. Then the figure on theground collapsed and all was silent for a time. Herbert slipped awayinto the corridor, waited a moment, then walked noisily back to theprison section and going straight to Gaul, standing by the partition,said:

  "I've been thinking you're not fit for duty. I'll stand guard hereawhile and you go back to bed. Give me your gun and revolver."

  "But I feel all right, Corporal," Gaul protested.

  "I mean this as an order, Gaul."

  The fellow handed over his weapons. Placing them aside, Herbert coveredhim with his own pistol. "Now, hand over that paper you just receivedfrom the general here, and be quick about it!"

  Gaul went white and stammered:

  "I--I didn't get----"

  "Don't lie! Hand it over, or I'll bore a hole through you! You hear me!"

  "But, honest, I--you are wrong, I----"

  "Oh, well, then, blast your ugly carcass, I'll just fill you full ofholes and take it, anyway."

  Gaul, scared, visibly trembling even in the dim light, with shakingfingers fished into an upper blouse pocket and brought forth a bit ofscrap paper with torn edges and thrust it at Herb. The corporal glancedat it, then ordered his man to march down the corridor, following to thelieutenant's quarters.

  "Please read that; it came from the captured German general to thisfellow. He first asked for more, then agreed to do something."

  The officer held the paper near the lantern.

  "It's a scrap torn from some book, I guess. German print on it. Oh, onthe other side. What is it? Pretty poor writing, by jingo! Wait; itsays:

  "'Set loose if men come. See as I shall get loose of hand bands. Thensee in fight I escape free. Then come to trenches by night and inquireby me, General von Lutz, and I pay 5,000 marks quick and you mak safe.'And down farther are more words: '10,000 marks I will mak it; hav nodowts.'"

  A broad, solemn-looking grin covered the lieutenant's face and he noddedhis head several times.

  "Might have expected this, really. Always had my suspicions, but hopedotherwise. Well," turning to Gaul, "did you really think----"

  "If you suppose, Lieutenant, that that Dutchman could buy me, youfellows get another think. I was only strafing him a little. He wantedme to do this, but you don't think I would? Why, Corporal, you know mebetter'n that. Haven't I always----?"

  "Corporal, it would have been better to have got up a pretended alarmand observed what this man would really have done. But I guess we haveit on him all right, after what you heard. Anyway, we'll send him backwhen the patrol comes for the Huns. Take him and put him under guardnow."