IN THE TRENCHES
Stunned and bruised, the three chums and several of their comrades around them were incapable of action for a little while. Then, as Jerry raised himself from the ground, he heard Bob ask:
“What hit us, anyway? Are the Germans attacking?”
“Gee!” was Bob’s muttered protest.
“Get up!” some one cried. “You’re all right. It was a bomb from a Hun plane, but it missed its mark.”
“Seems to have hit me all right,” observed Ned, whose face was bleeding, though only from scratches.
“You were knocked down by the concussion,” explained the officer who had told them to get up. “It was a close call all right, but no one is hurt. Fall in for roll call!”
Ned, Bob, Jerry, and some of the other soldiers scrambled to their feet. They had been on the point of answering roll call when the explosion 79 came, and now that the danger was over, at least for the time being, they had a chance to see what had caused it.
The aeroplane from which the bomb had been dropped was not now in sight, but this is what had happened. One of the German machines passing over the front line, as they often did, had escaped the Allied craft, and had also managed to pass through the firing of the anti-aircraft guns. Whether the machine had gone some distance back, hoping to drop bombs on an ammunition dump, or whether it came over merely to take a pot shot at the American trenches, was never known.
But the aviator had dropped a large explosive bomb, which, luckily for the Motor Boys and their comrades, had fallen into an open space, though not far from one of the camouflaged stations where the soldiers were quartered before being taken up to the front-line trenches. The explosion had blown a big hole in the ground and damaged some food stores, but that was all, except that when the Americans were about to answer roll call they were knocked down by the concussion, and some, like Ned, were scratched and cut by flying dirt and stones, or perhaps by fragments of the bursting bomb.
“See, no one is hurt,” went on the officer, as if to reassure those who were soon to take their 80 places in the front-line trenches. “Good luck was with you that time.”
“I hope it keeps up,” murmured Bob. “It’s a mean trick to shoot a man before he has his breakfast,” and then he wondered why the others laughed.
They all looked curiously, and it may be said, thankfully, at the big hole made by the bomb. As the officer had said, only good luck had prevented some of the boys from filling that hole.
After this Jerry was silent and thoughtful.
“Well, what’s next?” asked Ned, after an examination had shown that his wounds were merely scratches, for which he refused to go to the hospital, or even a dressing station.
“Breakfast, I hope,” said Bob, and this it proved to be.
The excitement caused by the dropping of the bomb soon died away, though Ned, Bob, Jerry, and some of the other soldiers who had not yet been under hostile fire, felt their nerves a bit unsteady for some time.
But the veterans, of whom there were many, appeared to take it as a matter of course. It had happened before, they said, and probably would again.
“But that’s what we came here for—war,” remarked Jerry, as he and his chums finished their breakfast—no very elaborate meal, and one to 81 which little time was given. “We’ve got to take our chances.”
Up and down the line, on either side of the sector where the three chums were to receive their baptism of fire, already begun, could be heard dull booming. It was the firing of heavy guns, and might indicate an attack in progress or one being repelled by either side. Here the Allied and German lines were close together, in some places the front-line trenches being less than six hundred feet apart. Between was the famed and terrible No Man’s Land.
“I wonder if Professor Snodgrass will ever get up as far as this,” mused Ned, as they prepared to go back to their quarters and begin the day’s business.
“The firing wouldn’t keep him away, if he thought he could find some bugs,” answered Jerry. “And if he wants to ascertain the effect of noises on crickets all he has to do is to bring the crickets here. We can supply the noise.”
“I should say so!” agreed Bob. “It’s getting worse, too! Listen to that!”
Indeed, with the broadening of day the noise of the big and small guns increased. Whether a great battle was impending or merely local engagements, the boys had no means of knowing.
The position to which they had been brought, and where they would spend about a week, holding 82 the front and supporting line trenches, until relieved by a new command, ran up and over a little wooded hill. From this vantage point, which had more than once been stormed in vain by the Germans, could be seen the country beyond No Man’s Land—a portion of France held by the enemy. And in the brief glimpse the Motor Boys had of it, smoke-covered and stabbed with flashes of fire here and there as it was, they saw something of what war meant.
“The professor is going to have some job on his hands if he expects to find any young ladies on the other side of that,” and Ned waved his hand to indicate the terrain possessed by the Huns.
“Oh, we can get through if we attack in force,” declared Bob. “And maybe that’s why they brought us up—there may be going to be an attack.”
“We’ll have to get through—for objects big and little; that the professor may find his girls and his inheritance and,” and here Ned’s lips set a little grimly, “that we may help to bring back freedom to the earth.”
“There may be an attack all right, if Foch, Pershing and the other generals think it’s a good time for it,” said Jerry. “But as for having it postponed until our arrival, well, you boys have some ideas of your ability.” 83
“Oh, I didn’t mean that!” cried Bob. “I meant that maybe we’d be in the big battle.”
“I hope we are,” said Ned. “We want to do our share.”
This opportunity soon came to the boys. As soon as they reached their headquarters—a series of ruined buildings in which they had passed the night—they were told to get ready to go up and take their places in the trenches. But first they were given a little talk by one of the officers, who explained the necessity of donning gas masks at the first alarm. Other instructions were given, and then, when it was seen that every man had everything he needed, from the first-aid kit to the grotesque-looking gas mask, the trip to the first-line trenches was begun.
So much has been written about the World War that it seems needless to explain anything about the trenches. As all know, they were a series of ditches, about six feet deep, dug along in front of similar ditches constructed by the enemy. The distance between the two lines of trenches varied from a few hundred feet to several thousand.
The ditches, or trenches, were not in straight rows. They zig-zagged to make attacks on them more difficult. There were several rows of trenches on both sides of No Man’s Land. This was so that in the event of an attack the men could fall back from one line of trenches to the 84 other, fighting meanwhile to drive off the enemy.
The trenches were narrow, about wide enough for one man, though two might pass by squeezing. At intervals, however, were wider places where food or wound-dressing emergency stations could be established. At other places there were large excavations where dugouts were constructed, and there relief parties rested and slept if they could between periods of duty.
The bottoms of some of the trenches were covered with “duck boards,” or short planks, with spaces between to let the water run out, and in certain parts of France it seemed to some of the boys to rain about three hundred out of the three hundred and sixty-five days of the year.
The trenches were sometimes braced with boards and cross pieces of wood, such as is often used when a sewer is dug through the streets, and again wicker-work, or jute bagging, might be used to hold the earth firm.
Below the top of the trenches, in certain places, were projections. These were firing steps, and the men stepped up on these to aim their rifles at the enemy. In certain other places were set up improvised periscopes, so that an officer could look “over the top,” and, by a series of reflecting mirrors, observe what was going on in the enemy’s country.
Again, at other places in the trenches, light 85 artillery, such as machine guns and grenade throwers were set up. Here and there were little stoves to warm the food brought up whenever a relief party could get through the rain of shells. In some places heavy concrete or wooden dugouts were constructed, well under ground, though the Germans did more of this than the Allies, the Hun trenches being very elaborate at times.
And it was to these trenches that Ned, Bob and Jerry, with their comrades, were led. There they would remain on duty for a specified time differing under varying conditions, or until an attack was either made by them or by the enemy. After that, in case the enemy were successful, trenches farther in the rear must be occupied. But in the event of the German attack being repulsed, and a counter-attack carrying the Allies forward, advanced trenches—possibly those deserted by the Huns—would be used.
“Forward!” came the command, and the three Motor Boys advanced. They did not march long in open formation. To do this would be dangerous, within range of the German guns as they were, and, too, they might be seen by a Hun observer in an aeroplane. So, in a little while the advancing squad, of which Ned, Bob and Jerry formed a part, found itself in a communicating trench. This was a ditch dug at right-angles to the front-line trenches, and through this the relief 86 passed, and food and ammunition were brought up.
The communicating trench zig-zagged, as did the front-line ones, to provide greater safety, and the boys finally gave up trying to guess in which direction they were going. All they could see was the sky above their heads.
Suddenly, however, the trench widened, and they saw another crossing it. At this point, too, there was what seemed to be a rough door, made of planks nailed together.
“This is your dugout,” said the leading officer, indicating that Ned, Bob and Jerry, with some others, were to remain there, while he led the rest farther on.
“Glad you’ve come,” remarked a haggard-looking officer, who was to be relieved by the commander of the squad in which were the three chums.
“Has Fritz been bothering you?” asked Lieutenant Anderson, who was in charge of the relief.
“Has he? Well, rather! And then some! You have my permission to stay as long as you please! Come on, boys!” and he led his war-weary men back to a rest billet.
“Make yourselves at home, fellows,” said the lieutenant. “And wipe your feet before you come in,” he added with a laugh, as he looked down at his muddy boots. 87
The passwords had been given and received. The other relief party had passed on to allow other worn-out men to get some rest. Ned, Bob and Jerry looked about them. They were in a dirt ditch, filled here and there with puddles of water from the last rain, and the clouds still hung in the sky.
“Where are the German trenches?” asked Ned.
“Where? Right in front of us—over there,” and the lieutenant pointed. “Wait, I’ll show you, and everybody get this, and take a lesson from it!” he added.
He held up a steel helmet on the end of a stick. In an instant it went spinning off and fell at his feet in the trench. He picked it up, pointing grimly to a neat little hole through it and said:
“That’s what will happen to any one of you if he sticks his head up. You’re in the front-line trench. Don’t forget it!”