Part 4 (2/2)

”Why,” went on his chum as they started back toward their former places, ”it looked as if his whole face was blown in. I can't understand it”

”Well, they'll do the best they can for him back there,” and Roger nodded toward the dressing stations. ”Maybe we'll get a chance to go to see him after this battle.”

His words were drowned in a new roar of artillery and machine-gun fire. The heavy booming and the short, sharp, rattling explosions of the smaller guns seemed very close at hand.

”Something's doing!” cried Jimmy.

”Come on!” shouted his chum, and, with their rifles and gas masks, which they had brought up out of the sh.e.l.l hole, they rushed forward.

And as they advanced they became aware of shrill, whistling sounds in the air about them.

”Duck! Duck!” yelled Roger. ”They're firing over our sector now!

We've got to crawl back!”

Jimmy realized this as well as did his chum, and, in another moment, the two were making their way back to their line as they had left it, by alternately moving on their hands and knees and again by working themselves forward on their elbows and stomach. It was the only safe way. The horizontal storm of missiles was, fortunately, about three feet above them, but that distance precluded walking upright.

”Come on, boys! Fall in! Fall in!” cried their lieutenant as Roger and Jimmy got back ”We're going to advance. You're just in time!”

”Did you find him?” asked Bob, as he leaped to his feet in readiness for a dash toward the German lines.

”Yes. In a sh.e.l.l hole!” yelled Jimmy, for the firing was heavy on both sides of them now, making a vicious din.

”Alive!” Franz wanted to know.

”Yes, alive, but how long he'll be that way it's hard to say,”

answered Roger. ”He was under a pile of dirt and--”

”Come on! Come on!” cried the lieutenant. ”We're going to finish the job!”

He was leading his men, not driving them on as do the Germans, and n.o.bly the four Brothers and their fellows followed the gallant lieutenant.

On they rushed--ever onward. About them swept the leaden hail of death. Shoulder to shoulder, firing from the hip, rushed the four Khaki Boys. And even in that terrible din of battle they spared a thought for the gallant comrade who would have been with him if he could.

With wild yells the Sammies swept over the first line of German trenches. The Boches had deserted them in the face of a withering rifle and machine-gun fire.

”Come on! Come on!” yelled the lieutenant again and again. ”They're laying down a perfect barrage for us! The Huns can't get through to attack us!”

This was true, to a certain extent. Supported by the big guns in the rear, the 509th Infantry was rus.h.i.+ng onward. Before them, and ever moving forward, was a never-ending curtain of fire--a hail of lead and steel.

As this curtain advanced, caused by the continual but slow elevation of the muzzles of the big guns, the infantry followed. And this fire kept the German support from coming to save the lines that were under attack.

”Wipe 'em out! Wipe out the Hun nests!” cried the lieutenant.

”It's our turn now!” grimly shouted Roger in Jimmy's ear.

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