CHAPTER XXIII
THE LONELY HUT
And now it was that Jimmy and his chums were advancing across a dangerous stretch, protected by their own barrage. They rushed forward shouting, though it was hard for any one to hear his own voice, so terrific was the din.
There was little use in firing rifles now. The shrapnel from the American guns would take care of any Germans among which it fell. But when the barrage ceased, and the infantry would rush forward to try to take the Hun positions—then would come the most deadly fighting.
Forward, foot by foot, rushed the Khaki Boys, and on either side of them their bunkies also advanced. They were to go forward until their barrage ceased.
But it was not easy going after the first rush, for the Germans had awakened to the importance of the pending battle and they were now sending over a counter-barrage. With a roar that matched the opening chorus of the American guns, those of the Boche sent out their missiles of death.
And many of the shrapnel bullets, or pieces of exploding shells, found their marks. The ground was strewn with dead and dying, for the German barrage was meeting with and passing through that of the Americans.
Yet the advance never stopped. Company after company of khaki-clad youths and men rushed from the trenches and started across that vale of death. They advanced in battle formation—not too close together—for that offered too good a target for the machine-guns, and though many nests had been wiped out, many still remained.
Suddenly the awful ear-rending chorus on the American side died away as if by magic. The silence was almost as appalling as had been the terrific noise, for it portended more.
"Come, on!" cried the officers to their men. "Come on! Wipe out the
Huns!"
And the men followed them to victory or death.
Jimmy found himself yelling and firing his rifle as rapidly as he could pull the trigger. For a moment the five Brothers, all together, seemed to be in comparative safety. But then bullets began to sing about their heads like angry wasps.
"Come on! Come on!" cried Jimmy, and no one faltered.
Suddenly, from a little mound of earth in front of the five, there came a sound as of some one tearing stiff cloth, or beating a drum more rapidly than one was ever beaten before. The Khaki Boys knew what it meant—a machine-gun nest.
Instinctively they dropped to earth, and the bullets flew over their heads. If they found living targets farther on the lads did not turn to see.
"We've got to wipe that out!" cried Jimmy.
"We're with you!" shouted Bob.
Franz, looking forward from between two little hummocks of earth, suddenly fired his rifle.
"There goes one Hun!" he exulted.
"And I got a second!" exclaimed Roger.
They were both good shots and each had gotten his enemy.
"Come on—rush 'em!" yelled Jimmy, jumping up. Bob attempted to pull his chum back, for it was almost certain death to stand up in front of a machine-gun emplacement. But it was too late. Jimmy had taken his chance, and he lived through it.
For a brief instant there was no firing from where the machine-gun was hidden and this was Jimmy's opportunity and that of his chums. With wild yells they leaped up and followed his lead.
A moment later they were fighting fiercely with half a dozen Germans who composed what was left of the automatic gun squad. The weapon appeared to be jammed, for one of the Huns was frantically working at the firing mechanism. And it was this same jamming, as was learned later, that, undoubtedly, saved the lives of Jimmy and his chums.
Roger shot pointblank at one Boche and Bob bayoneted another. Then the remainder raised their hands and cried: "Kamerad!"
"We haven't any time to take prisoners!" yelled Franz.
But they did not get the chance. The Germans left alive leaped out of the shallow pit in which the gun had been hidden, and ran toward the rear. But they had not gone far before they were wiped out of existence by the explosion of a shell which fell right on top of them.
"Come on! Come on!" cried Jimmy, when it was seen that the machine-gun was of no further use, since the weapon was damaged. Besides, the American advance would soon be up to this point and it would be within the Allied lines.
Forward leaped the five Brothers, into the midst of the fighting again. And it was hot and heavy. They would advance a little, firing as they went, and then would drop as they realized that they were getting too close to danger. After a moment's rest they would rush on again.
And these tactics were slowly but surely driving the Germans back. True, now and again the Huns rallied, and beat back their foes, but this was not for long. The overwhelming rush of the Americans kept up.
Once, after the battle had been raging with unabated fury for two hours, Jimmy and his chums, with some other brave lads, found themselves cut off in a sort of pocket, surrounded on three sides by Germans.
With exultant yells a squad of Boches rushed up to capture the hated Americans, but the five Brothers never quailed. They fired their rifles straight into the faces of their enemies, killing several, and then a counter-attack by a large number of Uncle Sam's boys turned the tide of the fighting at that particular place, and our heroes were saved.
With rattle and roar, with sweat and blood, the big battle raged. At one time it seemed as if the American advance would be held up because of determined resistance of the Germans on the crest of a certain hill. This was stormed again and again without result. But at last the position was flanked, and the Huns wiped out. Then the American line was made straighter and the battle began to lull. The foe was in retreat.
"Dig in! Dig in!" came the command.
With their picks and shovels Jimmy and his chums, as well as the other fighters, began to scoop out for themselves shallow holes in the ground. And when these had been made as deep as was desired the five Brothers, who had come through the fierce fighting with but minor scratches, had a chance to look about them.
They were down in a little valley, the heights of which were held by their comrades, and so they were comparatively safe, for a while. Realizing this they began to think of food and water. They had very little left in their canteens, and as there was a stream, not far away Jimmy and his chums received permission to go to fill their canteens and bring some to the wounded.
As they finished this work of mercy, and had taken some water themselves, Jimmy saw, through an opening among the trees, a lonely hut not far from the bank of the little brook.
"Wonder if anyone is in there?" he said. "It might have been a German machine-gun nest—just the place for one."
"There may be one there yet," suggested Bob. "Let's take a look. We've got time."
The idea appealed to all, and, a few minutes later, secure in the knowledge that the Germans were on the retreat, our heroes entered the lonely shack. It appeared to have been the home of some French farmer, though now everything about the place was laid waste.
"Nobody at home, I guess," commented Jimmy, as he went from one room to another.
"No machine-gun been here," declared Bob.
At that instant an unmistakable groan was heard. The boys fairly jumped.
"Some one's here now, that's evident!" declared Jimmy, starting toward a small bedroom, whence, it was evident, the groan had sounded.
"Look out for a trick!" cried Roger. "The place may be mined!"
But Jimmy kept on. A second later his chums heard him shout from the inner room, and rushing to his side they saw him gazing at a figure huddled on a small cot bed.
"There he is!" cried Jimmy, pointing. "There he is! We've found him at last!"
"Who?" asked Franz.
"Sergeant Maxwell!" was the startling answer. "There he is!"
And as the others looked more closely they saw that Jimmy was right.