Part 14 (1/2)

”Say, that must be thrilling--to be a member of an advance party like that,” said Jerry, his enthusiasm as fiery as his hair. ”I wonder if we'll get any work like that?”

”You sure will,” responded Rawle, ”and plenty of it. You needn't worry on that score.”

At that moment Lieutenant Mackinson arrived to inquire if all their preparations had been made, and if they were ready to board the special.

”All ready,” they answered, and the lieutenant led the way to the train.

They found several others already aboard, who were to make at least a part of the trip with them. There were half a dozen men who had been slightly wounded in the trenches, and now, completely well, were returning to their regiments. Also, there was a wire company of the Signal Corps, which was going to join another American unit.

For the first three or four hours of the trip the lads, even including Hoskins and Rawle, found the returning young veterans the center of all interest, and from them they heard many serious and amusing stories, many true tales of the attack and retreat, of shot and sh.e.l.l and shrapnel and the hand grenade and the poisonous gas bombs thrown by the Boches.

And then, one by one, the soldiers of Uncle Sam dropped off into long and restful slumber--slumber that was to fit them for hard and difficult duties ahead.

”This is where we get off,” finally announced Lieutenant Mackinson, shaking the lads into wakefulness. ”We leave the train here and travel the balance of the distance by automobile.”

Never had the boys seen such a powerful looking car as that to which an orderly led them. Without the waste of a moment they climbed in--Lieutenant Mackinson, our three friends, young Hoskins and the towering Rawle. In another instant they were speeding across the country with the break of dawn.

But their trip now was far different from the one they had had across England. Where, in that country, they had seen big concentration camps, and men preparing for war, with an occasional evidence of war's effects in a building wrecked by a night air raid, here, in the eastern part of France, they came upon actual war in all its fateful progress, with whole towns demolished, forests and orchards blotted out--stark ruin written over the face of the earth.

With a clear right-of-way, their high-power machine swept past ammunition and food trains--long strings of powerful motor trucks driving toward the scene of action. They came upon towns and villages in that area known as ”behind the lines,” where French, American, Belgian and British soldiers were recuperating after hard days and nights in the front-line trenches.

By this time they were well within sound of the heavy guns, and their driver told them that the artillery duel then going on had been in progress for forty-eight hours at least.

”Sometimes it lasts for a week or more, you know,” he said, ”in preparation for a great infantry advance. But I understand that this time they expect to go forward before the end of to-day.”

”Which, means,” added Lieutenant Mackinson, ”that we probably will get a chance to get right into the thick of it.”

On and on they went, and nearer and nearer to the scene of actual battle they came. They pa.s.sed the third-line trenches, and now, in places, they seemed to be in a straight line with some of the concealed artillery that was pounding away at the enemy in terrible detonations that shook and rocked the ground every minute.

At the second-line trenches their orders called for a halt. They did not have to be told that there was ”something doing.” The road, so far as the eye could reach backward over the route they had traveled, was a constantly moving line of motor trucks, coming forward with men and sh.e.l.ls, while out ahead of them, tremendous and menacing, big tanks--the biggest things the boys ever had seen propelled on wheels or tractors--were pursuing their uneven course toward the front, in preparation for a new kind of a.s.sault.

”They look like miniature battles.h.i.+ps on land, don't they?” exclaimed Slim.

The others agreed that it was about the best description that could be given of these ma.s.sive fighting machines, equipped with guns and men, that could travel with their own power practically anywhere, across sh.e.l.l holes, over trenches, through barbed wire--the most human piece of war mechanism that had yet made its appearance on the battlefield.

Summons to a long-delayed meal gave a welcome interruption to their guesses as to just what their first duties would be, and they had scarcely finished their substantial rations of food when an orderly informed Lieutenant Mackinson that he was to report at once to the field headquarters.

”Await me here,” he said to the five men under his immediate command. ”I probably will be only a short time.”

And, indeed, it seemed to them that he had hardly time to reach the headquarters when he was seen returning hurriedly. He gave some hasty instructions to the chauffeur, and the latter immediately began a quick examination of his engine and tires, which promised another early move.

”We go forward as far as we can by automobile again,” the lieutenant informed them, ”and after dark to-night we are to establish an outlying communication from the farthest skirmish points to headquarters.”

Almost as he finished the sentence, they were started, but now their progress frequently was impeded, and occasionally a sh.e.l.l broke so close to them as to jar the machine from its course.

None of the men in the rear seats of that car were cowards, but, aside from Hoskins, it was their first experience under actual fire, and they marveled at the coolness of the driver, who seemed not to mind at all the dangerous quarters they were in.

When they climbed out of the machine, half an hour later, Joe remarked upon it in tones of open admiration.

”It's nothing,” the youthful chauffeur replied. ”You'll get used to it, too.”