Fighting in France Part 22

CHAPTER XVII

LIPPEN BREAKS

A terrific explosion shook the earth. Dirt was mixed with logs and stones and showered everything nearby. The deadly lyddite blackened the faces of the two young soldiers and half blinded them. For some moments they were too stunned to move.

Finally they recovered somewhat from the shock and rose to their feet.

"Look at that dug-out, Jacques," exclaimed Leon. "It's blown to pieces."

"How about the men inside?" cried Jacques. "There are six of them."

As he finished speaking one of the trapped soldiers crawled out. He pulled himself along with one arm, for the other was terribly shattered; one of his legs hung only by a tendon and a few shreds of flesh.

"Quick, Leon!" cried Jacques. "Cut the cord from your bandolier; you tie up his arm and I'll attend to his leg. We must stop this flow of blood or he'll die."

The wounded soldier was a fine, healthy boy; a few minutes before he had been telling what he planned to do when he went home on a furlough.

Now his face was white with agony; his voice grew weaker and weaker and he died while Jacques and Leon were working over him.

"This is awful," cried Leon fiercely.

"This is war," said Jacques.

High explosive sh.e.l.ls were now bursting all along the line; tons of earth were thrown high into the air and the very ground rocked beneath their feet. Men hurried from one spot to another trying to find protection where there was none; oftentimes ma.s.ses of earth were blown in on top of them.

"Picks and shovels!" came the cry, and "Stretcher bearers! Stretcher bearers!" resounded on all sides.

"The rest of those men in the dug-out are dead, Leon," said Jacques calmly. "We can do nothing for them and the thing for us to do is to rejoin our company."

"Think of it," exclaimed Leon as they hurried along. "If we'd stayed in that dug-out two minutes longer we'd been dead now."

"Death comes quickly in war," remarked Jacques. "It hangs by a thread and you never can tell when it is going to strike you."

They soon reached the spot where their company was located and along with the rest of those who were off duty were immediately ordered into the deepest of the sh.e.l.l-proof dug-outs, where they were really quite safe.

"We're in for it, I guess," remarked Dubois laconically, as Jacques and Leon entered the dug-out. Earl and Armande were also there.

"Sure we are," exclaimed the latter brightly. "What of it?"

"There'll be a lot of our men killed."

"Not half as many as there will be Boches," said Armande. "Just wait until they send their infantry out; our machine-guns will make them wish they were back in their trenches."

"You're an optimist, Armande," said Earl. "Just listen to those sh.e.l.ls up there."

"The Boches will come out about dark," said Armande. "We might just as well sleep until then."

"Not with that going on," exclaimed Leon. "At least not for me."

An hour later they were all ordered out. Every man had on a mask to guard against the poisonous gas that the Germans used so frequently just before they launched their attacks. Oftentimes too they would shower the opposing trenches with sh.e.l.ls, causing irritation and smarting of the eyes so that the men could not see to shoot. Now and again they used liquid fire which shot out half a hundred feet from especially made machines somewhat resembling the nozzle of a hose.

The surprising thing is that the French could withstand all those terrible engines of destruction. Sheer courage had helped them the first time they were used and after that they were always provided with some good means of defense. The French are remarkably quick to learn.

It was dark as the men came up out of the dug-out. They had scarcely taken their places when there was a sudden hurricane of rifle and machine-gun fire. Almost instantly the whole battered landscape became lighted up under the flare of innumerable trench-rockets. Far ahead, the enemy, in irregular lines, could be seen advancing to the attack.

"Here they come," cried Armande. "Let 'em have it!"

A pitiless infantry fire was turned upon the Germans. An almost solid sheet of flame issuing from the French rifles marked the curve of their trenches. Almost at once the French artillery caught the range of the advancing troops; the air was filled with the roar of the bursting sh.e.l.ls and the sad-sounding _whing-g-g_ of flying shrapnel.

"No one can possibly come across that s.p.a.ce alive," cried Leon incredulously.

"Yes, they can too," exclaimed Armande and a moment later the sharp staccato of a hand-grenade bursting nearby warned them that some of the enemy at least were already within striking distance.

The men worked feverishly. Rifles became hot they were fired so fast and so constantly. Hand-grenades were popping all around now and the noise became deafening. Like gray ghosts the Germans appeared under the flare of the guns and the weird light of the trench-rockets.

The French machine-guns mowed the Germans down like gra.s.s and the fact that they still came on was a high tribute to their bravery. Gradually the firing died down and the noise lessened. Broken and beaten back the Germans turned and fled. A cheer went up from the French line, while a farewell volley was poured into the ma.s.s of retreating Germans.

"What did I tell you?" demanded Armande triumphantly. "I knew they couldn't touch us and I'd just like to see them try it again."

"It cost us something," said Earl.

"Yes, but not one-quarter of what it did them."

"I hope not," agreed Earl. "It always costs the attacker more."

The strain of the fight let down and a reaction set in. The ground was strewn with the dead and dying and the moans of the wounded were anything but pleasant to hear. During the fight every man nerves himself to face whatever comes; afterwards there is sometimes a complete swing to the other extreme.

Arms and legs stuck out from heaps of earth. Dead men lay all around; blood was on everything. Nauseating odors filled the air. Suddenly from a spot directly behind Earl came a sound that made his blood run cold.

Lippen, the soldier who had fought so valiantly in the chateau, suddenly sprang to his feet. He uttered a wild, hideous, hysterical laugh and seizing an arm that protruded from the trench in front of him he hurled it far out over the battlefield.

He shrieked raucously and then suddenly sat down and began to sob. His companions gazed at him a moment in surprise and then in pity.

"What is it, Jacques?" demanded Earl. "What ails him?"

"He's crazy," said Jacques quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"He's gone insane; his nerves are shattered."

Lippen sat and sobbed; now and again he raised his head and gazed about him and the look in his eyes showed that all his reason had departed.

"How awful!" exclaimed Earl with a shudder. "Do you suppose he'll ever get well again?"

"It's hard to say," replied Jacques. "Sometimes they do and sometimes they don't."