The Khaki Boys over the Top Part 10

It was a pleasant, sunny day--that is, it would have been pleasant had it not been for the war. That spoiled the pleasantness, but nothing could stop the suns.h.i.+ne. To the great orb that had seen the earth formed, this fighting, momentous as it was destined to be, was only an incident in the rolling on of the ages of time.

"Wonder why we're being held up?" ventured Franz. "I haven't had half enough of fighting yet."

"Nor of me, neither," declared Iggy, who seemed to have recovered all his s.p.u.n.k and spirit. "It is of a betterness to shoot lots when of a gas mast you are delivered, yes?"

"Right, old top!" shouted Jimmy. "h.e.l.lo!" he went on, as he saw the major of the battalion approaching. "I guess here's where we get orders!"

And they got them--orders to advance. And this time they went forward with yells, for it was said that the gas attack was over--the kindly wind had done its work well.

"There they are! There are the Huns!" cried Roger.

His chums looked, and saw dimly through the smoke, a gray line, like some great worm, that would oppose their progress.

"Come on! Come on! Eat 'em up!" shouted Jimmy.

The others needed no urging. At the Huns they went--firing and being fired at.

For a time it was a battle of rifles--the artillery and machine-guns seemed to have been silenced temporarily. On rushed the Sammies, in their own peculiar but comparatively safe, open formation. Rus.h.i.+ng, dropping, firing, up again, now down, but ever going onward, led by their officers.

The Huns received the fire, and that it was deadly was evidenced by the gaps torn in the gray ranks. Then they would close up, fire as though by platoons, and come on slowly.

Suddenly the comparative slowness of the rifle fire was broken by the staccato explosions of a machine-gun. It opened on the left of the position taken up by Jimmy and his chums, and in an instant had mowed down several doughboys.

"Take what cover you can!" shouted a lieutenant. "Where's that gun?

Did any one notice?" "Over in that red mill!" some one shouted.

Afterward it developed that this was Franz, who was an expert shot and quick in judgment.

Dropping flat in the low-growing grain, many eyes of the Sammies turned in the direction of the red mill. It was a French one, of picturesque construction. And as Jimmy and his chums looked they saw a little wisp of smoke come from one of the windows. Then came another staccato discharge, but this time with less deadly effect.

"We've got to get that gun!" cried the lieutenant. "Volunteers wanted to rush the red mill! Who'll come with me?"

CHAPTER IX

TRAPPED

Characteristic it was of the lieutenant to ask who would come with him. American officers do that. A German would have said "Go!" The American said "Come!"

And characteristic it was of the Sammies that everyone within the sound of the young officer's voice answered, as one:

"_I will_!"

"Keep your heads down! You may get them knocked off soon enough when the rush comes," went on the lieutenant, for in their eagerness to answer and be selected for the dangerous mission, some had partly raised themselves from their p.r.o.ne positions.

"There's no question but that's a German machine-gun in that old mill; is there?" asked the lieutenant.

"Here's one of the bullets, sir," replied Roger, tossing over one that had penetrated the earth near where he was lying, and come out after striking a stone. "That's a bit of Hun lead all right."

He tossed it over to the officer, who was stretched out in the young, green grain near by.

"Yes, that's German all right," was the answer. "It's larger than ours. I thought perhaps some of our men might have gone in there to pepper the Huns. Well, we've got to get it--that's all."

"And soon, too," murmured Jimmy. "Whew! This is fierce!"

A hail of lead from the weapon in the old red mill drew this exclamation from him. Fortunately the men were low enough to escape the worst of the firing, but some were wounded and one killed.

"There's two guns in that mill, sir!" called Franz, who was lying near Bob. "They're both firing together."

"You're right," was the lieutenant's comment. "Well, so much the more work for us to do. How many of us are here?"

It developed, by an improvised roll call, that there were fifteen, including our five Brothers. With the lieutenant who was in immediate command, there were sixteen.

"We'll all go!" was the officer's decision. "Fill your magazines, get your hand grenades where you can reach 'em and be ready for the rush.

It's got to be a rush, and I hope it lasts long enough for some of us to get there," he added soberly. "Boys, it's a desperate chance we're taking, but a machine-gun nest there may hold up the advance. Maybe it is holding it up. We've got to clean out the red mill!"

"We're with you!" cried Jimmy and the others.

And, as he spoke and the others cheered their a.s.sents, there came another burst of fierce fire from the machine-guns hidden in the old red mill. But there was too much elevation and the bullets, this time, flew harmlessly over the backs of the Yanks.

"Now for it!" cried the lieutenant. "They may have to put in a fresh belt of cartridges, or the guns may have heated or jammed. We'll take a chance. We'll make three lines of five each. I'll lead one, and there'll be six in that. Blaise, you take four men, and Simpson, you take four. We'll spread out--fan shape--and don't stand upright--run crouching. Now, Blaise and Simpson, pick your men, and give me the word when you're ready."

Of course Jimmy picked his four Brothers, and they crawled up behind him, ready for the word. Sergeant Simpson, a brave but somewhat reckless lad, had four of his own choosing, and there were five who crawled over to line up behind the lieutenant.

"All ready?" asked the officer. "Ready," answered Jimmy, and the other leader gave a like reply.

"Then come on, and may we all live to get there!" cried the gallant officer.

He arose to a crouching position and started to run toward the red mill, followed by Jimmy and his four, and Simpson and his quartette.

And, as they rushed on, the automatic guns cut loose again.

The dust in the grain field rose in little spurts as the bullets struck, and the rattle of the spiteful machine-gun made a chorus with the snapping and popping of the American rifles. For Jimmy and the others fired from the hip as they ran.

They could not hope to do much execution on the German gunners, protected as the latter were by the old mill. But some chance bullet, entering through crack or crevice, might end the activity of one or more of the Hun crews. It was the only thing to do, however, until they could come to hand grips--to cold steel--with the hidden Boches.

"Come on! Come on!" cried the lieutenant.

"Come on! Come on!" echoed Jimmy and Simpson.

They were nearing the red mill now. They could see no one in it, but the sight of two windows, on either side of the big, open door, seemed to give evidence of the location of the machine-guns. Smokeless powder was being used, but there was a thin film of smoke, for all of that, and this smoke floated from the two windows.

"There they are!" cried the lieutenant. "Come on, boys, we have 'em now!"

But the glory of it was not to be--for him. Hardly had the words left his mouth than he crumpled up, rolled completely over and lay still.

Afterward a dozen bullets were found in his body.

But the others halted not. The man immediately behind the fallen lieutenant leaped over his lifeless body and led the advance, as Jimmy and Simpson were doing.