Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line Part 19

"You're a heathen materialist!" declared Ned.

Bob proved a true prophet, for a few minutes later a relief squad came to the dugout with a traveling kitchen, or rather, some of the products of one in the shape of hot beef stew and coffee.

Following the ending of the career of the German sniper, the three Motor Boys, after several strenuous days in the trenches, went back again to a rest billet. There they recuperated, and really enjoyed themselves. There were letters from home to cheer them, and also a communication from Professor Snodgra.s.s.

The little scientist said he had tried in vain to get some trace of the two missing girls, and expressed the hope of seeing the boys soon, to get the benefit of any advice they could give him. He also stated that he was progressing well with his scientific work of noting the effect of terrific noises on insects. But, somehow or other, the Motor Boys did not take as much interest in the pursuit of the scientist as they had formerly.

"The war has changed everything," declared Jerry.

"But, of course, we'll help him find the girls if we can," suggested Ned.

"Oh, of course," agreed his tall chum.

Their stay in the rest camp was made pleasant by the ministrations of the Y. M. C. A. and the Knights of Columbus representatives. The chums and their comrades spent much time in the different huts, where they were entertained and could get hot chocolate, candy or chewing gum--rations not then issued by the army commissary.

"If it wasn't for these organizations war would be a whole lot worse than it is," declared Jerry, as they came from a Y. M. C. A. meeting and moving-picture show one evening.

"And don't forget the Salvation Army!" chimed in Bob. "The fried holes those la.s.sies turn out are the best I ever ate--not excepting those mother used to make."

"Yes, those doughnuts fill a big void, even if they have a hole in the middle," agreed Ned.

But all good things--even Salvation Army doughnuts--come to an end some time, and so did the rest period of the three friends. Back to the trenches they went, to find out that what Ned had predicted was about to happen. An attack of considerable magnitude was in preparation, and it was to be as much of a surprise to the Germans as possible.

"It's going to be over the top all right," declared Jerry, when, one evening, they received their final instructions. The attack, preceded by a brief artillery preparation, was to take place at dawn, the "zero hour" selected.

It was believed, and was proved true as after events showed, that by considerably shortening the artillery fire, the Germans would be unprepared. They were used to the big guns bombarding them for a day or more at a stretch before the infantry came over. This was to be a change.

The night before the attack was a nervous one. Yet those not on duty managed to get some sleep. For many it would be their last.

Then came the general awakening, and the moving of the men along the trenches to the posts a.s.signed to them. Each squad of men was in charge of an officer, commissioned or noncommissioned, and in Jerry's squad were Ned and Bob.

"Go over the top with a rush when you get the signal, which will be three whistles after the barrage has ceased," were the instructions, and Ned, Bob, and Jerry, with their comrades, prepared to do this.

There was a period of tense waiting and then, with a suddenness that shook their nerves and bodies, as well as the whole earth about them, the big guns opened fire.

That the Germans were taken by surprise was evident by the failure to answer. For perhaps five minutes it seemed as though a thousand of the most terrific of thunder storms had been condensed into one.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the firing ceased. The "zero hour"

had arrived.

Three shrill whistles, repeated from many points, sounded on the now silent but quivering air. Not a German gun had yet awakened.

"Over the top!" came the cry, and the friends, with thousands of other brave lads, scrambled up the ladders from the trenches and started toward the German lines.

CHAPTER XVII

"FRIED HOLES"

Ned, Bob, and Jerry were stationed in a sector which was alternately defending the lines against the Germans and attacking them in that part of the country where the trend of the war eventually led up to the terrific battles of St. Mihiel and the Argonne Forest. But, up to this time, no one had guessed that the whole nature of the war would be so quickly changed with the advent of the Americans, nor was it suspected what terrible fighting would have to be undertaken by our boys; though, of course, they were ready for the worst.

So that the battle in which the Motor Boys and their comrades were now about to engage was merely what was termed a local engagement.

Nevertheless, it meant everything--life and death--to those engaged in it, though there was never a thought of death in the hearts of any of the brave men who went over the top as the big guns ceased thundering and the shrill whistles gave the signal.

"Come on, boys!" yelled Jerry, as he led Bob and Ned forward, followed by the others in the particular squad of which Jerry had charge. "Come on!"

"Yi! Yi! Yip!" screamed a young giant from the South, as he leaped ahead of some of his chums to the side of Jerry. "Show the Fritzies how we fight!"

And together he and Jerry rushed on, followed by Ned and Bob--a quartette acting as one man.

It was the first really big battle in which the Cresville chums had taken part. They had been out on skirmish work and on night patrol, and they had come in conflict with parties of Germans, but no large bodies. They had even each been wounded slightly, but never before, in all their lives, had they had a part in such a hailstorm of death, such a turmoil of blood, mud, smoke, gas and flying bullets as now. On and over the rough sh.e.l.l-pitted ground they rushed toward the German trenches. On they rushed in the gray dawn of the morning, firing as they ran, hardly stopping to take aim, for they could see the gray, indefinite ma.s.s before them, and knew they were the German troops who had rushed out of their trenches to meet the onslaught.

At first the attack had been a surprise--a surprise so great that the Germans could not, at the beginning, reply even with adequate rifle fire, to say nothing of artillery and machine guns.

But, in a moment, seemingly, all this was changed. Tongues and slivers of fire began to spit out from the gray ranks opposing the Americans.

There was a snarl of the lighter artillery guns, the spiteful bark of the rifles and the wicked rat-a-tat-tat of the machine guns, which the Germans depended on, more than on anything else, to stop a rush of our infantry.

Half way across No Man's Land rushed Ned, Bob, and Jerry, with their cheering, madly yelling comrades, and then the toll of death began. It was the fortune of war. Those that lived by rifles and bayonets must perish by them, and for the deaths that they exacted of the Huns their lives were exacted in return.

Jerry, who with grim-set face and blazing eyes rushed on at the side of the tall Southern giant, heard a dull thud. Then came a sort of gasping, choking cry that was audible even above the horrid din of battle. Jerry, in a glance, saw his big comrade crumple up in a heap, the whole front of his body torn away by a piece of sh.e.l.l. And for one terrible instant Jerry felt that he, himself, must fall there, too, so terrible was the sight. But he nerved himself to go on, and a backward glance showed that Bob had to leap over the dead body of the lad who but a moment before was yelling encouragement to others.

But it was war, and it had to be.

On and on they rushed. Now they were at the first line of the German barbed wire. Some of it had been cut by the swift firing of shrapnel before the troops came from their trenches. But enough remained to be a hindrance, and quickly the men with cutters surged forward to open the way.

It was while the Americans were held up here that the Germans took fearful and heavy toll of them with their machine guns, which were now sputtering with terrific firing. Scores of brave men went down, some never to rise again. Others, only slightly wounded, staggered for a minute, paused behind some dead comrade's body to adjust a bandage, and then went on.

Forward they rushed. Through the barbed wire now, trampling down the cruel strands, never heeding the bleeding wounds it tore in them, never heeding the storm of bullets, minding not the burst of shrapnel or high explosive.

On and on they went, yelling and shouting; maddened with righteous anger against a ruthless foe. Forward once more. Somehow, though how they did it they never knew, Ned, Bob, and Jerry stuck close to one another. Since the death of the Southerner the three chums were in line together, and stormed on. Their rifles were hot in their hands, but still they fired.

"The first-line trenches!" yelled Ned, as he pointed through the smoke.

And there, indeed, they were. They had pa.s.sed over No Man's Land through a storm of death which held many back. They had mastered the barrier of the wire, and now were at the first line of the German defense. And so fierce and terrible had been the rush of the Americans the Germans had fallen back, so that, save for lifeless gray bodies, the trenches were unoccupied.

"Forward! Forward! Don't stop! Go on!" yelled the officers.

A certain objective had been set, and the commanders were fearful lest the troops, thinking that to capture the first German trenches was enough, would stop there.

But they need not have been apprehensive. The boys of Uncle Sam were not of that sort. They wanted to come in closer contact with the Boches. And they did.

On over the first-line trenches they rushed, but now the fighting became hotter, for they were in the midst of machine-gun nests, placed there for just such a contingency. Death was on every side now--horrible death. A bullet clipped Jerry's ear, but he only laughed--half madly and unconsciously, no doubt--and rushed on. A man was killed in front of him, and, falling forward, tripped the tall lad, so that, for one terrible instant Bob and Ned thought their chum had been killed. But Jerry sprang up again, and, seeing a knot of Germans just ahead of him, tossed a hand grenade among them. As a wisp of fog shuts out a view, so the smoke of the grenade hid the group of Huns for a moment. And when a swirl of the air lifted the smoke curtain, a gray heap on the ground was all that remained. It was like some vision of the night, constantly changing.

On and on they rushed, shouting and shooting, yelling and being yelled at. They panted for breath, their tongues clove to their dry mouths, they suffered horribly for water, but there was only blood about them.