Fighting in France Part 16

"Turn around and you'll see," said Dubois.

His three companions followed his bidding and a shout of welcome went up to the newcomer. He limped slightly but there was a grin on his face and he appeared to be very happy.

"Armande!" cried Dubois joyfully. "I am glad to see you."

He rushed up to his comrade and following the French custom, kissed him on both cheeks.

Jacques did the same but Leon and Earl, though they were not less glad to see their friend, contented themselves with welcoming him with a hearty handshake.

"How is your leg?" inquired Jacques solicitously.

"As sound as ever," exclaimed Armande quickly. He tried to execute a few dance steps to show his friends how well his wound had healed, but his leg sank under him and a shadow of pain crossed his face.

"Be careful," said Leon anxiously. "Don't try anything like that yet."

"I guess it is not as well as I thought," admitted Armande with a wry smile. "It will be sound soon though."

The five soldiers soon made themselves perfectly at home in their rude quarters and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. A few days of rest worked wonders with them and with all the others in their regiment. At the end of a week the men were clamoring to be sent back into the trenches.

Daily drills were held to keep the troops in good physical condition and the men indulged in all kinds of sports during their leisure hours.

Thousands and thousands of soldiers were concentrated in and around this town and so wonderful was the French organization that they could be s.h.i.+fted to any part of the long battle line almost at a moment's notice. There seemed to be an endless supply of equipment as well as of men and no longer could France say that she was unprepared. The whole question now was whether she was prepared enough to undertake the great offensive the soldiers knew was coming some time.

One day, at noontime, came the word that that afternoon there was to be a review of all the troops stationed thereabouts.

"Who is going to review us, do you suppose?" asked Earl of Armande who now had recovered entirely from his bullet wound.

"I don't know," replied Armande. "I don't like these reviews anyway.

For my part I'd much rather do some actual fighting."

"I guess you'd rather fight than anything else, wouldn't you?" said Earl laughingly.

"I certainly would," exclaimed Armande. "At least I would as long as these Boches are in France. When they are driven out I want to go back to my little farm and never hear the sound of another gun as long as I live."

"I hope you may be able to do that soon," said Earl fervently.

"If I am still alive."

"We'll hope for the best," said Earl simply.

"Suppose I am killed," exclaimed Armande. "What difference will it make? I shall die for my country and what happier death is there than to die for France?"

"If everyone else feels the same way I don't see how France can be beaten," remarked Earl, much impressed by the fervor of the impulsive Frenchman.

"Of course she can't be beaten," cried Armande, "and of course everyone feels as I do. Just as surely as the sun will rise to-morrow France is going to come out victorious in this war. They can hold some of our land for a time but they can't kill our spirit. The spirit of France will live forever and it is spirit that wins; it is unconquerable and it will never give in until justice and right rule once more in Europe."

"Vive la France!" cried Jacques l.u.s.tily. He had been sitting on the edge of one of the bunks attentively listening to the foregoing conversation.

"Vive la France!" echoed Earl and the rafters of the ramshackle old barn shook with the violence of the cheer.

"Inspection is at two and the review at three," Dubois reminded his comrades when they had settled down to a normal state again.

"Then we haven't much time, have we?" exclaimed Leon. "Let's get ready."

At two o'clock, to the second, the _douzieme_ infantry was lined up for inspection. Every man's uniform had been cleaned, his shoes polished and his rifle oiled and rubbed. They all wore the steel helmets adopted by the army since the outbreak of the war; these light metal head coverings had saved many a life and prevented many a wound. In the trench warfare the majority of the wounds are apt to be in the head, for that is all that shows to the enemy; consequently the steel helmets had proved themselves most useful.

A short time later the regiment marched off down the road towards the large open plain where the review was to be held. From all directions came other troops all heading towards the same spot. Bands played and the scene was indeed a gala one. Few dress uniforms were to be seen however. Occasionally some high officer, resplendent in gold lace, whirred past in his motor-car, but as a rule the troops all wore their service uniforms.

On one edge of the plain the _douzieme_ halted. Regiments filed by, some on foot and some on horseback; batteries of field artillery rattled past. A murmur of approval swept along the line as the men recognized the famous 75-millimeter guns, the best field artillery in the world. These guns were the pride of the French army.

At length the _douzieme_ swung into place and preceded by thousands and followed by thousands it swept along. As far as the eye could see in front and behind appeared a forest of rifles, the keen-edged bayonets gleaming in the sun. It was a most impressive sight and one to inspire confidence. The grim-visaged men were not soldiers in name only but warriors in every sense of the word.

Far across the field marched the _douzieme_ and pa.s.sed along in front of those who were there to review it. The troops all held their guns at attention as they pa.s.sed and were unable to catch a very clear glimpse of the little group of men who stood there. Five men stood out in front of the others however and from the corner of his eye Leon did his best to see who they were.

"That little man in the khaki suit was King George of England," he said to Jacques after the review was over and they had returned to their quarters. "I also recognized General Joffre, but who was the man with the brown mustache who stood next to King George?"

"Why that was Lord Kitchener," exclaimed Jacques.

"Who was the big man next to him? He was certainly fine looking."

"King Albert of Belgium," said Jacques in a surprised tone. "I should think you'd recognize him."

"It was stupid of me not to," admitted Leon. "Who was the short man in the frock coat and silk hat? He didn't look like a soldier to me."

"He isn't," laughed Jacques. "That was President Poincare; the man who pa.s.sed us in the automobile the other day."

"Of course it was," exclaimed Leon. "Quite a distinguished gathering I should say."

At this moment Dubois entered the loft. He was evidently excited.

"Some of these fellows have been wanting excitement," he exclaimed, "and I guess they'll get it soon enough all right."

"What do you mean?" demanded Leon.

"Come with me and I'll soon show you," said Dubois.

CHAPTER XIII

A VOLUNTEER

The five soldiers hurried outdoors and cautioned by Dubois they stood together in a little group and listened intently.

"Guns," exclaimed Jacques.

"Guns?" echoed Dubois. "I should say there were; thousands of men.

Just listen to that cannonade."