Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line Part 28

Professor Snodgra.s.s, too, managed, by means of some influence he possessed, to be allowed to accompany that part of the army to which his young friends were attached. He had not ceased his efforts to locate the two girls, but he realized, as did Jerry and his chums, that it was an almost hopeless proceeding now. However, there was still the study of explosive noises on insects to which the professor could devote himself, and he did.

The boys noted, however, that the strain of his uncertain financial situation was telling on the little man. Cheerful as always, and seemingly oblivious to practical affairs, yet there was at times a strained look about his eyes.

"Yes," he said one day in answer to a question Jerry put, "I have enough for my immediate needs. If I do not get back what I lent to my old friend--and I may even lose more, as I endorsed a note for him to cover a loan from another--and if I cannot use what Professor Petersen left me, I shall have before long to give up my work here, however.

And, of course, the trip to the Amazon and the investigations there must be given up."

"I am sorry, Professor. Can't we----" began Jerry.

"Tut, tut!" interrupted Professor Snodgra.s.s, with a kindly smile.

"We'll no doubt find the girls--I hope so for their sake as well as my own--and perhaps my friend may be able to adjust his affairs, though I fear----Poor man, poor Albert! It will be a dreadful thing for him to lose all he has and be compelled to start the world over again at his age." And Professor Snodgra.s.s walked away, his personal trouble forgotten in sympathy with his friend, the very man who was the cause of his own anxieties and probable losses.

Vast were the preparations that went on for the advance against the enemy. Never was there such a collection of cannon, large and small.

Never was there such a store of powder and sh.e.l.l. The back lines were like a hundred a.r.s.enals turned into one. Food, too, there was in great quant.i.ties, for it has been well said that an army fights on its stomach, and there must be no lack of nourishment when the troops went forward, as they were destined to do.

All these war-like preparations the three chums noted with every manifestation of delight. They wanted to whip the Hun, and whip him well, and all this argued for success. The soldiers knew they would be well backed-up as they went forward, and forward they were going.

Orders were given that every man must look well to himself personally--to his uniform, his belongings, and his weapons. All gas masks were tested, and those in use for some time, or which showed the least defect, were thrown away and new ones issued. There must be no holding up of the advance once it had begun, because of poison gas.

And it could not be doubted but what the Germans would use it lavishly.

Rifles and hand grenades, likewise, were looked to. Everything must be in readiness so there would not be an instant of unnecessary delay.

But it was the store of cannon and ammunition back of the firing lines that was most amazing.

The three chums, being sent on duty to the rear one day, had a chance to observe some of the measures being taken there to insure the defeat of the Kaiser's troops. The ground was fairly covered with ammunition boxes and sh.e.l.ls--well concealed from hostile airmen, of course, even had they been able to pa.s.s that far to the rear. And the guns, large and small, lined up ready for the forward movement, were wheel to wheel for miles and miles in extent. The greatest artillery firing in the history of the world was about to take place.

"If the professor wants to see the effect of a rattle-te-bang on his bugs he'll soon get his chance," said Jerry, and his chums could only agree with him.

"I only wish one thing," remarked Bob, as they prepared to go back to the front, after having accomplished their mission.

"What?" asked Ned.

"I'd like to have it out with Noddy Nixon before the big show. I just want to get one whack at him for taking our wood and those doughnuts and cakes of chocolate. Just one whack!"

But this "whack" Bob was destined never to have.

They again went on duty in the trenches. The day of the great offensive was approaching.

Suddenly a shot rang out in the sector near the three Motor Boys. They started, and Ned exclaimed:

"Can that be the signal for the attack?"

"No, it doesn't begin until to-morrow," said Jerry. "That's one of our own men. Guess his rifle went off by accident."

There was a little excitement, but what had caused it the boys could not learn at the time, as they must stay at their posts. But a little later, when their lieutenant came through the trench, Ned, saluting, asked:

"Did one of our sharpshooters get a Hun, Sir?"

"No," was the answer. "It wasn't that. Private Nixon was shot."

"Noddy Nixon shot!" gasped Bob. "How?"

"S. I. W.," was the terse reply of the officer, as he pa.s.sed on.

CHAPTER XXV

THE BLACK BOX

The three chums, standing in the wet and muddy trench, looked at one another as this significant remark was made. Bob either did not catch what was said, or did not understand, for he asked his companions:

"What did he say?"

"S. I. W.," repeated Jerry.

"Self-inflicted wound," translated Ned. "So Noddy Nixon did that to himself to get out of the big battle! Well, it's just like the coward!

I'm glad he isn't in our company!"

"So am I," added Jerry.

"Self-inflicted wound," repeated Bob.

"Well, he's out of the fighting now," declared Ned, "though he'll have the worst time he ever had in his life. He'd better be dead by a Hun sh.e.l.l."

Silence fell upon the three in the trench while, not far from them, they could hear the commotion caused as Noddy was taken away to a hospital. And there, for some time, he remained safely if not comfortably in bed, while his companions endured the mud and the blood of the trenches, meeting death and wounds, or just escaping them by a hair's breadth to drive back the hordes of the Boches.

But over Noddy's cot, and over that of several men on either side of him was a placard with the significant letters:

_S. I. W._

"Self-inflicted wound." One of the most terrible tragedies of the war--more tragic, even, than the death of the gallant boys on the day the armistice was signed, yes, within an hour of it. For those letters indicated a disgrace that seldom, if ever, could be wiped out.

Briefly it meant that a soldier afraid of going into action with his comrades, went to some secluded place and, aiming his gun or pistol at some extremity--a hand or a foot--where a wound was likely to be slight and not very painful, pulled the trigger. Then followed the story that a stray German bullet, coming over the top of the trench as the man exposed himself, had done the deed.

But the nature of the wound, the character of the bullet, and, above all, the appearance of the man himself, told the real story. Sometimes the victims would say their weapon went off by accident as they were cleaning it, and this was perhaps worst of all, for it put the canker of doubt into genuine cases of this sort, and there are bound to be some such in every army.

So Noddy was carried away to the hospital, and "S. I. W." was inscribed over his cot.

As to the causes leading up to the self-inflicted wounds they are many and varied. Sometimes a soldier may become fear-crazed, and irresponsible for his act. Other men are just plain "yellow," clear through, and ought never to have gone into the fighting. They should have confessed cowardice at first, though, of course, that would be hard.

Sometimes, though rarely, these "S. I. W." cases "came back." That is, they were given a chance to redeem themselves and went to the fighting front with a song on their lips and undaunted courage in their eyes.

And then, if they died doing their duty they were absolved. But it was a desperate chance.

Every one recognized that there was an element of doubt in these cases, but as for Noddy Nixon, when his significant question to the surgeon as to the relative pain of a hand or foot wound was recalled, he was condemned already. He had shot himself slightly in the left foot. He was dishonorably discharged when he was cured, and sent home, and, therefore, did not trouble the Motor Boys again, nor did Bob get his revenge for the stolen articles.

Ned, Bob, and Jerry did not feel much like talking after they learned what had happened. They had no love for Noddy Nixon, and he had treated them exceedingly badly in the past, as well as tormenting them since they had been a.s.sociated in the army. But they knew that nothing they could have done or said would have been half as effective punishment as that which he had brought on himself. Henceforth, among decent men, he was an outcast; a pariah.