The Brighton Boys in the Trenches

by James R. Driscoll

  CHAPTER XVI

  "OVER THE TOP"

  Had the entire bunch of fellows, from Regulars to Draftees been planningfor a football game or a very strenuous social lark of some kind, theycould not have appeared more happy, in the beginning, over it. The factthat the raiders had first in mind the killing of the enemy, men likethemselves sent to cut down their opponents, proved what custom will do.For custom is everything, and men in a body can fit themselves toobserve almost any procedure and to twist it whichever way that givesthe greatest satisfaction.

  In times of peace we regard the murder of one person as something overwhich to get up a vast deal of excitement and much indignation, but inwarfare we plan for the killing of thousands as a business matter andread of it often with actual elation. Such are the inconsistencies ofmankind.

  "Say, Corporal, if I don't get at least a half dozen of those Hunsduring this little picnic you can call me a clam! These littleget-theres have got to do the job!" Rankin stood gazing lovingly at histwo service pistols, held in either hand, as he spoke. He was admittedlythe best revolver shot amongst the gun-pit contingent.

  "I'll run you a little race as to who makes the best score on realdeaders!" spoke up a youthful-looking fellow who was one of the recentlyarrived squad of Regulars. "I sort of like to punch holes with thesesmall cannons myself."

  But Herbert heard no other boasts of the sort from the men contemplatingthe night raid; indeed, there was very little talk about it at all,except that some were curious as to how the program might work out, orwhat the hitches might be, and some, though determined to do their duty,seemed to be a bit nervous as time went on.

  The boy, having now gone through enough in the crucible of death-dealingto sear him against the fear of possibilities, even of probabilities,regarded this raid only as a matter of duty, of necessity, and with verylittle thought about it, resolved to do his part to the very best of hisability.

  "Over the top!" This has become a familiar phrase now since a largepart of the present method of warfare consists in those in the opposingtrenches finding a way of getting at each other over No Man's Land,often not more than twenty yards across and on an average perhaps ahundred and fifty feet, though the turns and twists of the trenches makeit difficult to draw an average.

  Open attacks, except by large bodies of men in what is termed a drive,are not generally successful in the military, the strategic, sense, forthere are more men lost in getting across barbed wire entanglements,machine-gun and rifle fire than will pay for what they gain. A sectionof trench which is part of the enemy's system will very likely have tobe given up, unless the entire trench is soon after taken, which mayresult in a general drive.

  The military tactics compel that which the scientific boxer adopts andcalls his art, that of self-defense. Anyone can wade in and hammer a foeif he does not care how he is hammered in turn, but often the hammeringhe gets is more than he can give, unless he studies to shun injury. Inthis case often the weaker fighter will outdo the stronger if the formeravoids being punished while getting in some hard cracks on the otherchap's weak spots.

  And just so with trench fighting. The opposing armies are precisely liketwo trained-to-the-minute prize fighters with bare knuckles and out forblood; they are watching each other's every move, dodging, ducking anddelivering all sorts of straights, hooks, swings and upper-cuts, allsorts of raids, bombings, grenadings, shellings, air attacks and whatnot?

  But the raids at night are the best card that, so far, the opposingplatoons or companies have learned to deliver, and they often result ina knockout blow, at least to that section of the trench attacked. Theraid must be delivered as a surprise to be most effective and thus maybe compared to the fist fighter's sudden uppercut or swing to the jaw.

  The night came on cold, still, with gathering clouds, and the men in thelower portion of the communicating trench, and mostly within an offsetthat had also been dug and roofed over with heavy poles, brush and sodfor camouflage, gathered to partake of the evening meal and converse inlow tones.

  Two enemy airplanes bent on scouting duty, started just before dusktoward the American lines, but with glee the boys heard Susan Nipperbegin to talk again and the planes disappeared, one veering off out ofrange, the other being knocked into the customary mass upon the unkindground.

  Whitcomb, Gardner, Watson, and Rankin chummed together, as was theirhabit when all off duty together; not at this time cooking, as there wasno place handy where a fire could be camouflaged. The men now all atetheir grub cold, which was not so bad for an occasional change; thetinned meats, fresh fruit and fresh biscuits made at the barracks wellsatisfying a soldier's appetite.

  Hot coffee in a big urn was sent down from the gun pit, and thelieutenant added a good supply of chocolate candy recently shipped overfrom the good old United States for the boys in the trenches andappreciated as much as anything could be. After this many indulged inpipes and tobacco, but they were careful to keep the glow of their smokewell out of sight of the prying eyes of the enemy, for who can tell whena squirming Hun may wriggle himself up to almost the very edge of hisfoeman's trench and spot those gathered within, or overhear theirplans!

  "MAYBE I'LL HEAR THEM PRONOUNCE MY DOOM."]

  All this while there had been someone at the listening post, that pointof the zigzag trench which was nearest the enemy. The job is an exactingone and the listeners are frequently relieved by those men most alive tothe interests of the trench.

  Presently Sergeant West came to the snipers and addressed Whitcomb:

  "Corporal, you fellows are all wide awake and with your eyes sharpened.I'd like to have one of your men on relief at the listening point."

  "All right. Rankin has got ears like a rabbit for hearing, even if he isa pretty boy. Go to it, old man!"

  Rankin got up and stretched himself. He seemed more than usuallyserious.

  "Maybe I'll hear them pronounce my doom," he remarked and turned away.

  "He seems extra solemn tonight," said Gardner. "Wonder if we'll all comeout of this business skin whole."

  "All? I'll wager not all of us will. Those Huns can fight; I'll say thatfor them. But it's the only good thing I can say for them," Watsoncommented.

  "That's where you're wrong, old man," Gardner replied. "As you know, Ispent a year in Germany----"

  "Or in jail? 'Bout as leave!" Watson jested.

  "---- after I left school. Dad sent me over with our buyer to get on tothe toy importing business, and I'll say this for the doggone Germans.They are rough, they are brags, they are all a little crazy; but theyare wonderfully painstaking, remarkably thorough and persevering, andhere and there, now and then you come across some mighty fine, good,upright, altogether decent chaps whom you may be glad and proud to haveas friends. It is all wrong, unfair and a little small to consider allthe people in any land unworthy; don't you think so? You remember whatProfessor Lamb used to say at school----"

  "Professor Lamb?" interrupted Herbert. "Say, man, what school did youattend?"

  "Brighton Academy. Best school in the----"

  "Here, too! I was a junior when I enlisted; Flynn and I. Put it there,old chap!" Herbert thrust out his hand.

  "Now, isn't that funny we didn't know that before about you?" Gardnersaid. "Yes, Watson here and I were classmates. We were chums at school,and have been chums ever since; enlisted together."

  "And we're mighty glad to be under one who has the same Alma Mater," putin Watson.

  "Or, as poor old Roy Flynn would say: 'We're all the same litter andbark just alike; mostly at the moon'," Herbert quoted.

  "Flynn, too, eh?" questioned Gardner. "He, like many another fitted forsome very different task, came out here to be unfitted. I have thought,ever since the days in camp back home, that he was admirably cut out forthe law."

  "A man doesn't need both feet to talk with," Watson suggested.

  "And he may not lose his leg at all," Herbert protested, hoping againsthope.

  "It won't still his tongue, I'll wager, if h
e does."

  As the night wore on conversation grew less and many of the men dozed,sitting on the ground and propped against the dirt wall, or each other.One little fellow slept and even snored lying across the stretched legsof two others, until they tumbled off to rest their limbs. Others knewonly wakefulness and either stood about or paced up and down between thenarrow walls of the trench, stopping now and then to exchange awhispered word with their fellows.

  The sniper squad took turns in making pillows of each other. Once, whenthey were shifting positions for comfort, Watson remarked rathersharply:

  "We can't yell 'Hurrah for old Brighton!' but we can all pull together,by gum!"

  Rankin, who had been in turn relieved from duty at the listening postand who was very wide awake, remarked:

  "Mebbe we'll all pull together for the other shore before this night'sover."

  Herbert waked up at that. "Pull yourself together, old man. You weretelling a while ago what you're hoping to do with those guns of yoursand----"

  "If I have any sort of a chance," Rankin said grimly.

  * * * * *

  "We can't call you fellows together with a bugle," Sergeant Westannounced, in a stage whisper. "But it's a few minutes of three o'clock;everything is as quiet as a mouse. Two of our men are over there to givean alarm. All get ready. There'll be no falling in, no formation. Keepwell spread out. Orders will be given only by signals. Three of us havewhistles and we hope they won't get all three. One short blow meansfollow the leader; two means all return; three means retreat in ahurry, but with prisoners, if you can get them; a long-continued blastmeans retreat for your lives. I guess all understand. But no signalswill be given until after we attack. We must go across absolutelywithout noise and we must go quickly. Get the fellow at their listeningpost, or any sentinel first. It's our first raid in this sector and theywill hardly expect us. Now, boys, follow Gerry. He knows the lay of theland."

  And over the top went the forty odd, wishing they could do so with acheer, but keeping as silent as an army of cats after an army ofrabbits--only the prey they sought was by no means as harmless asrabbits, and this fact made the need of silence greater.

  Not a word came from the scouts, and if the men in the enemy's trenchwere apprised of the coming of the Americans they were not able tocommunicate with their fellows before the raiders had scrambled through,or rapidly pulled aside the barbed wire, squirmed over a pile of sandbags and leaped into the German trench.

  Not a man hesitated, and the first signal of any kind they heard was thebark of Gerry's revolver as he sent down the foremost and lone Hun heencountered just as the fellow tried to raise his gun.

  At short range the handier, expertly used revolver won and it was sothroughout the melee that followed.

  As the Americans landed, some few dashing on and into a wide shelter ordugout lined with berths and concrete-floored, in which fifty menreposed or waited for night duty, the short, sharp, rapidly repeatedbark of the ready pistols sounded almost like, though less regular than,a machine gun.

  But the revolvers were used only against those that opposed them; thefoeman who indicated surrender, who was without a weapon or who droppedit, or who held up his hands was fully disarmed and pushed aside betweenguards, quickly signified by Sergeant West.

  It was not all surrender, however; at the very rear of the dugout adozen men quickly leveled their Mausers and discharged a volley,point-blank, at the Americans who had entered, the most of them beingstill in the trench fighting the Huns who had rallied from either end.

  The snipers' squad, all light and active young fellows, had been thefirst into the trench; the first into the dugout, they were in the forewhen the volley came. Herbert, a gun in both hands, leaped to preventtwo Germans from seizing their guns; Gardner on the other side held upthree men; Watson blazed away at a commander who blazed away at him,without making a hit, and half a dozen Regulars behind were coming on toperform a like duty. But it was Rankin who saw more of the resistingsquad at the far end of the dugout.

  The young man, a gun in each hand, became transformed instantly into asort of fire-spouting mechanism; the red streaks of flame from hisweapons stabbed the semi-darkness almost with one continuous glare andwhen the twelve shots were expended every man of the opposing force hadfallen. But not alone! The last to stand before that burst of fury aimedtrue; and as more Regulars rushed into the place to make good thesurrender of the other Huns some stumbled over brave Rankin's body.

  The whistle sounded once, twice, thrice. Was the work so soon completed?That meant hurry, but with prisoners and, of course, the Americanwounded and dead.

  As though long drilled for this work, knowing precisely what to do andbeing not once confused, the boys hustled the Huns before them, someguarding against any possible flank attack; and Herbert, feeling for themoment like a young Hercules, lifted Rankin over his shoulder and,climbing again the ramparts of the enemy's trench, staggered rapidlyback again over No Man's Land, keeping up with his comrades. And alittle behind him came other stalwart fellows, carrying also theirprecious human burdens, some groaning, some quiet, two limp and fastgrowing cold.

  Then came rest, though there was readiness against counter-attack, whichdid not then occur. With the coming of dawn a few new men guarded thecommunicating trench and the raiders returned to the gun pit. Herbertlistened to Sergeant West's terse report to Lieutenant Jackson:

  "Very successful, sir. Captured twenty and left about thirty-five enemydead and wounded. Two of ours dead; four wounded. Got a lot of theirguns and smashed a machine-gun they were trying to use in the trench."

  Then he added in an altered voice:

  "Want to recommend every man for bravery, but especially CorporalWhitcomb, Privates Gardner and Watson for holding the dugout againstodds until more men arrived, and Corporal Long and Privates Finletter,Beach, Thompson and Michener for capturing the machine-gun. If I maymention it, we would all be glad to make another raid at any time."

  Herbert saluted. "May I add to that, Lieutenant? Thank you! I want totell you what Rankin did before he died." And with a voice a littleunsteady at times the boy related briefly the heroic work of the youngfellow who had shot faster and truer than eight or nine men against himand had made it possible for the few Americans in the dugout to take theprisoners they did.

  "I think this, more than anything that has occurred yet, shows clearlythe superiority of the Americans' expertness with the revolver and whatmay be done with it against odds, if men are taught to shoot accuratelyand with great rapidity," he added.

  "I am going to report that to our captain," said Lieutenant Jackson,"and I hope it goes to Washington. I know what I'd do if I had the say.I'd give each man two pistols and a lot of training and omit a lot ofthis liquid-fire business and grenades. A poor shot can do nothing, norcan a man attempt it who is unfamiliar with the weapon, but an expertcould stop half a dozen men with bayonets before the latter could getnear enough to use them."