IN ARGONNE FOREST
“Well, I reckon we get a rest now, don’t we?” asked Bob of his two chums, as they were ordered to report to a certain point with others of their command.
“A rest?” cried Ned. “Say, Chunky, I’m going to take a leaf out of your book and wish for something to eat.”
“I guess we’ll get that, but I doubt if we get much rest,” put in Jerry Hopkins. “I can smell something cooking, but I don’t see ’em getting any beds ready for us.”
And Jerry proved a true prophet, for there was refreshment for the battle-worn troops—hot food which they very much needed.
“Have we got to fight some more?” asked Bob, as he ate his rations with every indication of appetite.
“I should say so!” cried Jerry. “Why, we’ve got to take the Argonne Forest yet, and that’s going to be worse than this.”
Without giving his divisions a rest, which he dared not do, General Pershing, on the day after the capture of St. Mihiel, sent some of them toward the area back of the line between the Meuse River and the western edge of the Forest of Argonne. Though the fighting to gain St. Mihiel had been terrific, with this out of the way the German line was still intact from Switzerland to the east of Rheims. The general attack, all along this line, was with the hope of cutting it, and the part assigned to the American armies was, as the hinge of the Allied offensive, directed toward important railway communications of the German armies through Mezieres and Sedan.
Knowing that the Germans realized what it would mean to them to lose the Argonne Forest, General Pershing and his staff made every preparation for success. To this end as much secrecy as possible marked the advance of the Americans.
Says General Pershing:
“We expected to draw the best German divisions to our front, and to consume them, while the enemy was held under grave apprehension lest our attack should break his line, which it was our firm purpose to do.”
Ringing words that will go down in history to the honor of America!
And with this advance, fighting as they went, Ned, Bob, and Jerry, and thousands of their brave 228 comrades, dashed forward into what was to be one of the bloodiest and most desperate engagements of the war. To let General Pershing tell the story in part, by quoting again from his wonderful report:
“On the night of September 25th our troops quietly took the place of the French who thinly held the line in this sector, which had long been inactive. In the attack which began on the 26th we drove through the barbed-wire entanglements and the sea of shell craters across No Man’s Land, mastering all the first-line defenses. Continuing on the 27th and 28th, against machine guns and artillery of an increasing number of enemy reserve divisions, we penetrated to a depth of from three to seven miles and took the village of Montfaucon and its commanding hill and Exermont, Gercourt, Cuisy, Septsarges, Malancourt, Ivoiry, Epinonville, Charpentry, Very, and other villages. East of the Meuse one of our divisions, which was with the 2d Colonial French Corps, captured Marcheville and Rieville, giving further protection to the flank of our main body. We had taken 10,000 prisoners, we had gained our point of forcing the battle into the open, and were prepared for the enemy’s reaction, which was bound to come, as he had good roads and ample railroad facilities for bringing up his artillery and reserves. 229
“In the chill rain of dark nights our engineers had to build new roads across spongy, shell-torn areas, repair broken roads beyond No Man’s Land, and build bridges. Our gunners, with no thought of sleep, put their shoulders to wheels and drag-ropes to bring their guns through the mire in support of the infantry, now under the increasing fire of the enemy’s artillery. Our attack had taken the enemy by surprise, but, quickly recovering himself, he began to fire counter-attacks in strong force, supported by heavy bombardments, with large quantities of gas. From September 28th until October 4th we maintained the offensive against patches of woods defended by snipers and continuous lines of machine guns, and pushed forward our guns and transport, seizing strategical points in preparation for further attacks.”
And Ned, Bob, and Jerry had an honorable if humble part in all this. Forward they fought their way, now falling back as some fierce German resistance turned into a counter-attack and again rushing on to capture some little wooded knoll or hold some group of trees after the Hun machine gunners had been killed.
That was the worst of the fighting—against the machine guns. They were almost as thick as leaves in this Argonne Forest and the woods offered excellent protection to the enemy.
But it was fight, if not exactly in the open, more 230 nearly so than battles of the trenches, which the Americans hated. It was like being on their own ground, for, though the forest was in France, the trees and bushes were like those in any dense American woods.
“It’s like being with the professor on some bug-hunting trip!” yelled Bob, as he and his chums rushed on, firing as they went.
“Except it isn’t so healthy,” added Jerry. “Look out!” he shouted, and he pulled Bob down into the underbrush beside him only just in time, for there came a burst of bullets from a machine gun, concealed in a clump of trees, and but for Jerry’s timely act when he saw it, Bob might have been killed.
Then, with a yell, a company of Americans, with Ned, Bob, and Jerry aiding them, rushed on the Hun nest and wiped it out, turning the machine gun on the gray troops about them.
So the fighting went on, bitterly and terribly, as it had been going on for over a month, for this was now the beginning of October.
There came a lull in the conflict in the immediate neighborhood of the Motor Boys. They sank down exhausted on the ground under the trees, waiting for further commands, for an officer had ordered a halt.
As the captain of the company to which Ned, Bob, and Jerry had been assigned was approaching 231 to gather his men together, a runner came along a scarcely defined path.
He saluted the captain, and talked to him for a moment. Jerry, who was nearest his commander, saw a queer look on the latter’s face. Then, as the runner, with his message disappeared into the depths of the forest, the captain turned to his lieutenant, and our heroes heard him say:
“We’re cut off!”
“Cut off?”
“Yes, our battalion and another is surrounded here in the Argonne Forest. There are Germans all around us. We’re cut off. A runner has just gone to see if he can get through and summon help.”
“Surrounded!” was the thought that came to all who heard. “Surrounded by the Germans! Cut off!”
And then, almost as soon as that thought formed came another.
“We’ll hold out until help comes or fight our way through!”
And then began the tragic story of the “Lost Battalions.”