Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line Part 13

"Then I won't be a prisoner!" declared Bob. "But what were you going to say about comfort, Jerry?"

"We don't have to drill," was the answer.

And this was true. All the life of the camp was now done away with, even the training camp of France, where the boys had finished their war education, so to speak. But if they did not have to drill there was plenty else to occupy them.

While on duty in the trench they had constantly to be on the alert, and this not to guard against the unexpected approach of some friendly officer, bent on determining how his sentries were performing their duty, but to be on the watch against the approach of a deadly enemy.

There must be no sleeping--not even dozing--on post.

Then, too, there was work to do. There was food and water to bring up, and fire wood to scurry for when the chance offered, for it was not often possible to bring up hot rations to the front lines, and the boys heated their own as best they could, in discarded tin cans with a few twigs for fuel.

There were lines of trenches to cut, dugouts to repair after they had been blown to bits by the German guns, and there was barbed wire to replace under cover of darkness when it had been severed by the rain of steel and lead from the enemy's guns.

So the three chums and their comrades found no lack of things to keep them busy in the trenches. They had their hours off, of course, when they were permitted to go back to the dugout, and there, in comparative safety, they might try to sleep. This was not easy, for though in a manner they became used to the constant roaring and blasting of the big guns, there was always an under-current of disturbances of other kinds. They were on the firing line, and the enemy did not let them forget it.

Every day the aeroplanes went over the lines, and more than once there was a battle in mid-air above where Ned, Bob and Jerry were on duty.

Once a Hun plane came down in flames, so near they could hear the thud as it struck.

At times, after a period of comparative quiet, the trenches on both sides of No Man's Land would suddenly awaken into life. This would be caused by a fear, either on the part of the Germans or the troops from America, that one or the other was starting a raid. Then the machine guns would open fire, they would be augmented by the rifles of the men, and, if the shooting kept up long enough, the rival batteries would awaken and the big guns would speak.

It was one day, when the three chums had been on duty in the front-line trench about a week, that, as they were talking about the chance of seeing Professor Snodgra.s.s and helping him in his search for the two girls, something spun past Ned's head with a whine, and, with a vicious ping, imbedded itself in the trench wall behind him.

"What's that?" exclaimed Bob.

"That sniper again," answered Ned. "That's the closest he's come. We'd better move, fellows, or he may get one of us."

"A sniper!" exclaimed Jerry. "Has he been taking pot shots at you?"

"Several of 'em. I've tried to get him, but I can't figure out where he hides. Better move down the trench a bit. He seems to train his gun on this particular spot."

"Gee!" gasped Bob.

Bob and Jerry had moved up from their own stations to where Ned was placed, as it was a quiet period of the day, and it was while they were talking that the shot came.

"I'd like to have a try at him," said Jerry. "It's queer he can send a bullet down into this trench. It must come from above. A shot from the German trenches wouldn't reach here over the top, unless it was fired up, and landed here as it came down."

"Then it would be a spent ball," argued Bob, "and it wouldn't sing out the way that one did."

"You're right," agreed Ned. "It was fired from above--you can tell that by the slant it took as it came in. But it didn't come from an aeroplane. There hasn't been any over the trench for a long while. No, it's some German sniper, and he's out there in the woods, I believe.

Up a tree, most likely, where he can fire down into our trench. He must have a long-range rifle."

"We ought to try to get him," argued Jerry. "Have you, Ned?"

"Yes, I've tried to bait him, so I could find out where he shoots from and nip him in return, but I haven't been able to."

"Then I'm going to have a shot at him," declared Jerry, who was rated as an expert in the use of the rifle, as his badge showed.

But his plan of getting revenge on the Hun, who had so nearly shot Ned, was not destined to be carried out at once. For just then the relief of the boys came up, and they were marched back to the dugout for a rest period.

It was after they had enjoyed this, and were counting on again doing their turn in the trenches that their chance came to go out on night patrol, one of the most dangerous missions in the line of duty.

So far, since the Motor Boys had come up to the firing line, there had been no really serious fighting in their immediate sector. On either side of them there had been skirmishes, but a mile or so away, so they had had no chance to partic.i.p.ate. Also there had been night raids, but Ned, Bob and Jerry had not been in them.

This does not mean that Ned, Bob and Jerry were in no danger, for, as has been shown, a bullet came near ending Ned's career. And aside from this, there had been bombs dropped near them from Hun aeroplanes, and once a whole portion of the trench, just beyond where they were stationed, had been caved in by a sh.e.l.l from a German gun, and several brave lads had been killed, while others were terribly injured. But Ned, Bob and Jerry had come out unscathed.

Also there had been waves of gas--the ordinary chlorine gas, and again the more dangerous mustard variety. In fact, the Germans used their yellow-cross and their green-cross gases alternately against the sector where the Cresville chums were. But prompt use of the protective masks prevented any casualties.

So, as has been said, when the three chums were resting in the dugout, wondering what their next duty would be, an officer came in, and, when he had returned the salutes, he said:

"Volunteers are wanted for a raiding party to-night. There's a German dugout not far away, and the commander thinks we have a good chance to get some prisoners and thus learn a thing or two about what Fritz is up to in this section. There's also a chance, as I needn't mention, that none of us will come back. Now then, who wants to go?"

There was a moment of hesitation, and then, to the credit of the young soldiers, every one stepped forward.

"Um!" mused the officer. "I can't use you all. Thank you, just the same. Now let's see," and he proceeded to pick out his squad.

To their delight Ned, Bob and Jerry were selected, and at once began to prepare for the dangerous mission. None of them gave more than a pa.s.sing thought to the reflection that all might safely return or none of them come back.

CHAPTER XII

BOB IS MISSING

Careful preparations had been made for this night raid. It was the constant effort of both sides, during the period of trench fighting, to get possession of facts which would allow successful attacks to be carried out later. And to do this it was needful to get close to the enemy's line. By so doing, certain things might be overheard in the talk among the soldiers, or (for the results of the listening were uncertain) better still, was the capture of prisoners. Once they were taken back of the lines, questioned and searched, much of value might be obtained.

This, as a matter of fact, worked much better for the Americans than it did for the Germans. If the Huns did succeed in capturing, during a raid, some of our boys, they got little information from them about the units with which the boys of Uncle Sam were connected. Nor did the Huns learn much as to the strength of the forces opposed to them, except, perhaps, in the way of exaggeration.

"The American captive is more inclined to utter the equivalent of 'nothing doing,'" remarked Jerry, one day when discussing the matter.

On the other hand, the German prisoners captured, almost invariably, were glad that their fate had thus been ordered. They were sure of decent treatment, they were in no more danger of being killed and, more than anything else, they would be better fed than in their own trenches.

So it is no wonder they gave valuable information under the skilful questioning of the American officers. Still this information had to be carefully checked up before being acted on, as it would not do to run into danger as a result of what some Hun captive told.

"We are going out to try our luck," explained the lieutenant who was to lead Ned, Bob, Jerry, and their comrades, numbering half a score, out on a night raid. "There's a German dugout not far from here, and near by a machine-gun nest, and if we can get close enough to rush it, and capture those we don't kill, we may make it possible for a big forward movement--if the information we get is of the right sort. So get ready. Gas masks, hand grenades--rifles will be in the way--automatic pistols, of course, and don't forget to blacken your faces."

This precaution was always taken by night raiding parties. The Germans adopted the habit of sending up illuminating devices, known as "star sh.e.l.ls," at frequent intervals over No Man's Land. This was to guard against a party of the enemy advancing on the trenches. The sh.e.l.ls gave a very bright light, and nothing stands out more conspicuously in such a glare than a white face. So it was the custom to blacken countenances and hands when a night-raiding party went over the top.

It was not without a little feeling of nervousness and apprehension that the three friends and their chums made their preparations. But it was an apprehension of failure rather than fear. They wanted to succeed, to get results, and they were afraid they might fail. They were not afraid, personally. Still they were taking big chances, and they all knew it.

"Ought we to leave some word for Professor Snodgra.s.s?" asked Ned, as he and his friends were making ready about midnight.

"Word about what?" Jerry inquired.

"Well, in case we don't come back we can't help him in his search, as we promised."

"If we don't come back our friends will know it, and they can tell the professor if he inquires for us," said Jerry grimly. "Let it go at that. If we get back we'll be here ourselves in case the professor ever gets this far to the front. If we don't get back--well, he'll have to get some one else to help him. Come on!"