The Children of France Part 12

CHAPTER XII

THE HERO OF THE GUNS

"The patriotism of nearly all these children of France is something that you boys and girls cannot fully understand. No one can unless he has seen it displayed, as I have, in many instances," said Captain Favor.

"For instance, there is a little story of 'The Hero of the Guns,' as he was called. His name was Mattia, and though only twelve years old, he was determined to go to war and fight for France. This boy had only his mother left, his two brothers being already in the war and his father having fallen a victim to the Prussians when they raided the village in which Mattia's parents then lived.

"For a long time the lad had been studying a map of France until he possessed a very clear idea of the territory held by the Germans, as well as that where his countrymen were fighting. He talked over these things with the old men of the village and learned much from them.

"One day when he thought he knew the country well enough, this little patriot ran away from home and was well on his way to join his brothers when his absence was discovered.

"Mattia's mother appealed to the police but it was not until the following day that he was found and returned to his home. He had gone more than twenty miles on his journey when the police got him.

"'Unhappy child!' cried the boy's mother when he had been restored to her. 'Why did you do this? Did you not know the danger into which you were running? You might have been killed by German raiders or taken captive and carried to their own country and made to work, with barely enough food to keep you alive.'

"'My mother,' answered the boy bravely, 'when France is in danger, everyone, boy or man, should go to her aid just as my brothers have done, and as my father did, and gave up his life for his country. I, too, must go.'

"'Yes, but they were men while you are but a child, Mattia.'

"'Other mothers' sons have gone to war, mother; other mothers' sons will never come back. They have been shot in the war.'

"Mattia's mother, however, refused to give her consent, and the little patriot was obliged to remain at home, yet with his purpose of fighting for France still firmly fixed in his mind. One day he would go, he told himself, and one day he would show them that even a child could do a man's part.

"Early in the following spring Mattia's mother grew ill and died. The little fellow grieved for her until his face grew wan and pale. He was now left in the care of an uncle who was not very kind to him. After a month had pa.s.sed in which Mattia had continued his study of the war map, he determined to leave the home of his uncle and once more try to reach his brothers.

"One evening a troop train halted at the little village. This was the boy's opportunity. Watching his chance, he slipped into one of the coaches and crawled up to the luggage rack and lay down, making himself as inconspicuous as possible. But, alas, he was discovered and dragged out by a station employe who had seen him enter the car.

"This ended Mattia's going to war for some time to come. He found no opportunity to do so until nearly a month later, when he decided to leave his uncle's home again and take his chances. This time he planned well and carefully. Providing himself with food he set out one evening after he was supposed to be in bed and asleep, and, proceeding to the railroad, started walking along it. This, he had found, was the most direct route to the front.

"Mattia's uncle did not take enough interest in his nephew's disappearance to have a search made for him. For days after that the lad continued his journey on foot, stopping at farmhouses and doing little odd jobs that were the means of providing meals for him. One day, to his great happiness, he came up with the rear of one of the armies of his beloved country.

"The boy plodded in among the troops, for this was a rest camp that he had stumbled upon, some miles distant from the front. An officer, observing that he was a civilian, halted him in the street of the village where the rest camp was situated.

"'Where are you going, boy?' the officer demanded.

"'To the war with you,' answered Mattia promptly.

"'What! To war, at your age? It is impossible. Where is your home?'

"Mattia told him.

"'My mother is dead, as is my father, and my brothers are fighting at Verdun. Mattia has only his country left to love now. Where is Verdun?'

"'You poor little patriot,' answered the officer sympathetically.

'Verdun is yonder where you see the smoke and where the big guns are in action. You can hear them now.'

"The boy nodded.

"'But you are too young to fight. It is not permissible. Wait! You have no family left at home?'

"'None, sir, save my uncle, who does not want me,'

"'And you wish to stay here?'

"'No, sir, I wish to fight.'

"'That cannot be, but if you wish you may remain here. If you can work there is much that you can do in the rear and thus serve your country well. All men who serve their country are not in the trenches. Many are serving heroically who have not yet heard the roar of the big guns.'

"'What shall I do here?'

"'Help the cooks, do little services for the officers--whatever you may find to do. But, my son, remember you are not to try to go near the firing line. It is not for children to be there. You do not know what the soldiers suffer there. They must be strong and they must be old enough to stand the terrible strain.'

"'I care not for that. I want to fight,' replied Mattia with determination. 'I am strong and I can endure as long as can the men. I know, for I have worked with men. Where shall I eat and sleep?'

"The officer told him he would speak to the mess sergeant and that the latter would provide him with food, and would arrange for the lad to lodge in one of the buildings where soldiers slept when off duty.

"That was satisfactory to little Mattia. He was happy, for he was with the army, and that night the roar of the distant artillery lulled him to sleep. It was sweet music to him. 'Tomorrow I shall fight like the Frenchman I am,' he murmured as he dropped off to sleep.

"It was many days later, however, before he got the chance to take part in actual fighting. Even that came about by chance. He had been sent back to carry a message to the lieutenant in a high-angle gun squad--"

"What is that?" interjected Joe Funk.

"I should have explained. That is what the outfit that handles the anti-aircraft guns, the men who stay on the ground and shoot at airplanes, is called. He was permitted to stand by and watch the operations of the squad. Pretty soon he was a.s.sisting them by running back and bringing up the long, slender projectiles that the gun, pointed toward the skies, fired. He enjoyed watching the kick of the piece and the way it ejected the case of the sh.e.l.l after the projectile had soared on its way to the clouds.

"Mattia proved himself very useful that day and earned the thanks of the ammunition carriers for his help. He was quick and never stumbled or dropped a sh.e.l.l.

"That night he slept on the ground near the gun, which was silent all through the night. Early in the morning he was awakened by the sharp report of the weapon. Quickly springing up, he saw, high in the air, a black speck which he knew to be an enemy airplane, because the gun squad was firing at it.

"Once more Mattia took up his work of carrying ammunition. Something tremendous exploded not far from the squad.

"'The Boches are bombing us,' cried a soldier. The lad knew from that that the airplane, so far above them, was dropping bombs to destroy the gun and its squad. The only effect of the bombing, however, was to knock down several men, Mattia among the number, by the shock of an exploding bomb.

"'They're coming down!' yelled the lad as the airplane grew larger.

"'It's a hit!' cried the lieutenant in command.

"Mattia saw the airplane turning over and over, falling, soaring like a leaf from a tree in the fall.

"'Di--did we hi--hit him?' questioned the lad.

"'Of course we hit him,' answered a soldier. 'Don't you see him coming?'

"For the first time the little French lad realized what war was. He knew there was one man, and perhaps two, in that falling machine, and that he was watching them falling to what would probably be death.

"'It is for France,' he said to himself. 'If they are Boches they must die.' However, Mattia did not get the picture of that scene out of his mind for a long time. Later on he became used to it and did not even marvel.