Part 15 (1/2)

CHAPTER XII

THE S O S WITH PISTOL SHOTS

To move from the position they were in was impossible. All that they could do, imprisoned there as they were within a steel and leaden wall of rapidly falling machine-gun bullets, was to hope that the gunners would not change their aim, even by the fraction of a point, and that neither side would send up a torch rocket to divulge their exact whereabouts and bring sudden death or mortal injury to them all.

They knew now that they had been discovered by the enemy scouting party which they had observed a short time before--as they thought, without the others knowing of their presence there in ”No Man's Land.”

They also realized now, when it was too late, that the Germans had returned to their own lines, after that brief consultation, in order to procure the machine-gun with which to wipe them out.

And through it all they dared not return the fire, could not even utter a word to each other without fear of giving the enemy a closer range upon them.

It was a terrible three minutes for that isolated little group of Americans, for bullets were striking all around them, the nearest not more than ten feet away, and there was every possibility that another detachment might be flanking them, to cut them off later in their retreat, in case the machine-gun did not effectively do its deadly work.

There was but one desperate course open to them, and that Lieutenant Mackinson ordered at the instant the firing ceased.

”Run!” he ordered, in a shrill whisper. ”Run straight toward our own lines for about a quarter of a mile and then detour to the south.”

And off they started, each with all the speed he had in him. The renewal of the machine-gun fire compelled them to take a zig-zag course, however, and in this way for the first five minutes they all kept together.

Then Tom Rawle, who, with the lieutenant, had been a little in the lead, gradually dropped back until he was abreast of Joe and Jerry, who were running together, and then behind them, reaching Frank Hoskins and Slim, who were bringing up a loudly puffing rear.

Finally, as they began to pa.s.s him, too, and his lagging pace became noticeable, he urged them ahead and told them not to mind him.

”I got one of those bullets in the hip,” Rawle told them, to the surprise of all, for up to that moment he hadn't uttered a sound. ”It cuts down my speed, but it's nothing serious, I guess. You keep right on and I'll follow as rapidly as I can.”

”I'm almost winded myself,” said Slim. ”I'll stick with Tom; you fellows keep right on. We'll join you in a few minutes after you stop. Joe, I'll give that 'whip-poor-will' call if we can't locate you. At any rate, we know our way back to the American lines.”

”Not so loud,” warned Lieutenant Mackinson, as he slowed down. ”I guess you are right,” he continued. ”You stay along with Rawle, but the two of you try to follow as quickly as possible, so that we can get Tom back to the lines for medical attention. It is necessary that I have the others with me, though, for we must not only accomplish our mission, but also give the commander that intercepted German message.”

And so the little group parted, there in the blackness of night ”somewhere in France,” the lieutenant, Hoskins, Joe and Jerry to forge ahead as rapidly as they could in a detour that would again take them back into the enemy territory, but in another place, while Slim and the wounded Rawle came along at a slower pace.

The latter had been wounded more seriously than he knew, though, and he had not gone more than three hundred yards further before the loss of blood had so weakened him that he had to stop running and hobble along in a painful, limping gait, leaning heavily upon Slim's shoulder.

”Guess I'll have to quit,” he said, a little later on. ”Can't go much further.” And even as he spoke he sank to the ground.

While Tom Rawle a.s.sured him that it ”wasn't much of a wound,” Slim, who was doing the best he could to stop the flow of blood with his handkerchief, knew that it was a bad injury, indeed, unless it was given early attention.

”I'll try to get one of the others to return,” he said, ”and then we can send to our lines for a stretcher to get you in.”

”Nonsense,” said Rawle, ”I can walk; I'll show you.”

But it was a pitiful effort, and unsuccessful, and Tom himself had to admit that he ”guessed he was out of business” for a little while.

Thereupon Slim puckered up his lips and imitated the low but far-carrying call of the whip-poor-will--the call that he and Joe and Jerry had used so much to summon each other at Brighton.

He remained silent for a moment listening, but there was no answer except the distant rumble of the heavy artillery fire. He repeated the call several times. Here and there to the north of them occasional rockets went up from either line, but their brief light divulged nothing in the way of encouragement.

”It's not doing you any good to sit here without attention,” said Slim at last. ”Here is your revolver right alongside you. I will be back within half an hour. I am going to scout around for help.”