THE BIG GUN
Several days passed, during which Don, Dunstan and Chase saw duty at the outpost. For the most part of the time the sector remained comparatively calm, though occasionally the big guns on both sides pounded away in a fashion that suggested the beginning of a real curtain of fire.
Don and the young chap from Maine were now working together on number eight, Dunstan and "Tiny" Mason having been assigned by Chief Wendell to take charge of ambulance number three.
All of the Red Cross drivers mentioned made several trips to the field hospital, but on none of their runs did they encounter any very thrilling adventures.
Don Hale had not forgotten the artillery officer's invitation to visit the battery; so when the day on which he was to be en repos rolled around he declared his intention of putting the plan into immediate execution.
"Not for me," drawled Chase. "I'm going to read all day and forget there is such a thing as war."
Dunstan, on the other hand, was decidedly enthusiastic.
"Sure, I'm going," he declared.
"Bully for you!" cried Don. "Hooray! We'll have a dandy time."
Immediately after breakfast the two left the Hotel de la Palette, and in due course reached that section of the country where the battery was located. By the aid of information which a sentry kindly gave them the boys discovered Lieutenant D'Arraing conversing with the crew of one of the big guns located behind a group of trees. His eyes brightened at their approach.
"Ah, bon jour, mes Americaines!" he cried, in cordial accents. "Your visit is very well timed indeed—unless you have already run into so much danger that you do not care to risk any more."
"Try us, and see," said Don, smilingly.
"I will take you at your word. One of our airplane observers brought in a report to the effect that he has very strong suspicions that the Germans have erected a wireless station on a certain building behind their trenches."
"Aha!" exclaimed Dunstan, interestedly.
"Of course we cannot permit any such liberty; so the captain and I shall shortly be off to an observation post, in order to spot the bursts of smoke from the shells when the work of putting that wireless plant out of commission is begun."
Don Hale's eyes sparkled. Hopefully and with much anticipation he awaited the lieutenant's next words, and they were exactly what he wanted to hear.
"I should be pleased to have you come along."
"Well, we'll be mighty glad to do so," cried the boy, delightedly.
"No mistake about that," chimed in Dunstan.
"Good! But I must warn you in advance that there is a very grave element of risk."
"That doesn't scare us a bit," laughed Don.
"It is settled, then. Here, let me show you." Lieutenant D'Arraing unrolled a military map and spread it out on the top of a row of bushes. Then calling the boys' attention to a numbered pencil mark on its surface, he added: "This is where our observer locates the wireless station of the Boches."
Don and Dunstan studied the map with great interest.
"How extraordinarily detailed it is!" cried the former.
"Yes; the position of every clump of trees and even of single ones is indicated—in fact such small things as hedges have not been omitted. Our game is very exacting, you know."
To the ordinary eye the map was quite confusing, for besides the multiplicity of typographical details there were numerous red and blue lines branching off from various points.
"What do they mean?" queried Don.
"The location of certain batteries and their range," explained the artillery officer. "Now, kindly step this way."
About fifty feet further on the three came to a halt before a rounded elevation, on a mound of earth.
"Entrez, Messieurs," said Lieutenant D'Arraing, with a smile—he pointed to a dark, gloomy-looking opening at the base,—"and I'll introduce you to one of our special favorites—'Le Grand Pere.' Presently it will be paying some attention to the wireless over yonder."
"Goodness gracious!—there's concealment for you!" cried Don.
Cautiously the boy stepped down into the entrance, in a moment or two finding himself face to face with the breech of a big gun. The weapon, its muzzle projecting through another opening at the opposite end of the mound, was well protected by a heavily-timbered roof covered with earth. Even in the underground retreat the polished surfaces of the steel monster caught and reflected every stray beam of light.
"'Le Grand Pere' has done his full share of service," declared the French officer, when all were standing inside.
Then, to show how easily the piece of mechanism could be operated, he raised, lowered and moved the muzzle from side to side by means of little wheels.
"It seems almost like perfection," commented the aviator's son, as he carefully examined the "elements," as the figures on the gun's-sighting apparatus are called. "And yet I suppose experts are continually trying to make improvements."
"Yes; science is insatiable in its efforts to advance," said Lieutenant D'Arraing. "Here—look through this!"
He swung back the big breech-block, and Don, sighting through the long tube, saw a circular spot of brilliant daylight at the other end.
"You will notice that the inside is rifled," continued the lieutenant. "On the driving band of the projectiles are spiral grooves, which of course exactly coincide with those in the gun, and that is what gives the shell its rotation. Scientific calculations of the density of the atmosphere and pressure of the wind, and the use of trigonometry to find the range all combine to enable the gunners to fire with marvelous accuracy."
"What is your chief work—trying to put the opposing batteries out of commission?" queried Dunstan.
"By no means; though we should not miss an opportunity to do so. The main objective of the artillery, however, is to support the troops, to prepare the way for infantry charges and to prevent the enemy from bringing up supplies and reserves—in fact, to harass them in every way possible."
"This seems to be really a war of big guns," commented Don.
"Quite so!" assented the military man. He laughed. "Now, this is a two-story house. Below, and to one side, is our rest and recreation room. You may take a look if you wish."
The ambulanciers did wish, and a few moments later had clambered down a ladder to a subterranean room many feet underground. Straw was plentifully strewn about the floor, and several of the gun crew were lounging about at their ease.
"A chap doesn't have to bother much about shells in here," said Don.
"No," replied the lieutenant. "As a foundation the roof has iron girders and cement beams. Over these is about a foot of closely-packed earth. Next in order come a number of heavy logs, then earth again. And as a finishing touch there is a second series of logs and a layer of cement, topped off with another generous supply of good old terra firma."
"My, how safe I feel!" chirped Don.
"The life of an artilleryman is not so dangerous," admitted the officer; "for the moment things begin to get a bit too hot they can desert the gun pits, and in so doing are not obliged to cross any open spaces. One dive into the tunnel, and the cannoneers are safe! Passageways connect the various underground chambers, and telephones are installed wherever necessary."
Just as the concluding words fell from the officer's lips a terrific booming report made both of the ambulanciers give a perceptible start, though the gun crew about them gave no indication of even having beard it.
"A few high-explosives being dispatched without our compliments!" remarked the lieutenant. "Come, mes Americaines, and you can see one of the big guns in action."
One after another the three climbed nimbly up the ladder, and on emerging into the open saw a cloud of smoke hovering in the still air some twenty-five yards away.
"No wonder it made such an awful crack!" cried Don.
"Better stuff some of this in your ears," counseled Lieutenant D'Arraing. He presented to each a wad of raw cotton. "The concussions are pretty severe on ear-drums."
The Red Cross men thanked him and promptly followed his advice. In a moment they came to a hedge, behind which a gun crew, with remarkable precision and swiftness, was loading an enormous howitzer mounted on tractor-wheels.
"It takes seven cannoneers and a corporal to fire this gun," explained Lieutenant D'Arraing. "Each has a particular duty to perform, and when the projectile is ready for its long journey, the corporal gives the signal to fire, the lanyard is pulled, and what happens you will presently witness with your own eyes. Give her all the room you can, boys."
Don and Dunstan, highly interested, stepped back. It was a very wonderful thing, the ambulanciers thought, to be actual eye-witnesses of such a proceeding—indeed it made Don Hale almost feel as if he himself was an actual participant in the greatest war history has ever known. How many times had he heard the terrifying screech and scream of approaching shells and the frightful concussion which brought them to an end! And here was a projectile about to be launched off into space toward some point which none of them could see, but where, undoubtedly, were human beings who might be destroyed by its withering blast.
These reflections were abruptly terminated; for the corporal was speaking at the 'phone.
"Yes; ready to fire," he said.
Then came an instant's pause.
"Now!" thought Don, instinctively placing his hands to his ears.
"Fire!" commanded the corporal.
"FIRE!" COMMANDED THE CORPORAL.
The lanyard was pulled.
Instantly there followed a spurt of gleaming flame and a nerve-racking report which made the earth tremble; and as the great gun recoiled from the shock a thick cloud of smoke rolled upward and spread out among the trees.
Although prepared for the concussion, Don Hale felt almost as though his ear-drums had been burst by its terrific force.
But he almost forgot that an instant later, in his eagerness to watch the crew at work, for the breech of the gun was open ready for another projectile.
About sixteen seconds after the first shot had been fired another left the muzzle, and then came a series, the terrific crashes and reverberations following one another so fast that Don Hale found the strain almost too severe to stand. He gave a sigh of relief when, after fourteen high-explosive shells had been hurled into the enemy's line, the red bursts of flame and clouds of smoke abruptly ceased, and the destroying monster, after its last recoil, sank back motionless into place.
"That means the demolition of a portion of a German front-line trench," exclaimed Lieutenant D'Arraing. "Ah! another weapon is taking up the refrain."
Somewhere in the forest, not so very far away, the boom of a second big gun was heard; and this kept steadily firing until fifteen more shells had been sent toward the east, then a third went into action.
"Whew! It would take some time for a chap to get used to all that awful racket," gasped Don.
"Will my head ever stop aching!" murmured Dunstan.
"Pretty hard, I know, when one is not accustomed to it," put in Lieutenant D'Arraing, with a smile. "Now we shall have to look. When a man hits another he is apt to get a blow in return."
"Well, we are in a good place," said Don, his eye on the mouth of an opening leading to an abri.
The ambulanciers waited expectantly, and, sure enough, but a few moments had elapsed when shells were crashing both to the right and left of the battery, but fortunately far enough away to make a dash into the cave unnecessary.
When the flurry was over the lieutenant remarked:
"Come along. I'll introduce you to Captain Langlois."
As the three followed a narrow lane through the woods the reports of various guns of the battery echoed and reëchoed among the hills, the staccato rattle and bang of the lighter field-pieces blending in with the deep and solemn booming of the bigger guns.
They soon reached a battery of the former type, also so well concealed from view by various devices that they might easily have passed by without noting its presence.
"The eighteen pounders!" shouted Lieutenant D'Arraing in Don's ear. "Each shell contains three hundred bullets. They can be fired with very great rapidity."
The ambulancier did not need to be told this—the evidence was right before him. Terrific crash after terrific crash, following a lurid sheet of flame and a spurt of smoke, was coming from each field-piece; and after every shot the empty shells were discharged and fresh projectiles slipped into place.
"Did you ever see such wicked and vindictive-looking little chaps!" exclaimed Don, yelling with all his might, so as to make himself heard above the din. "They seem to be lashing out in perfect fury. Somewhere somebody is being deluged with a hail of lead."
"And every crash we hear may mean a tragedy some miles off," shouted Dunstan, gravely.
"The horse artillery is very useful," put in the lieutenant, using his hands as a megaphone. "When the poilus 'go over the top' they are the guns which thunder along the roads and fields, to give them support and encouragement. They also help to prepare the way for infantry charges by smashing to pieces the barbed-wire entanglements in front of the trenches."
Conversation under the circumstances was a very difficult matter; so the party hurried away, though wherever they went it seemed impossible to get beyond the roar of the batteries.
In a large spacious dugout they found Captain Langlois, with a couple of other officers, poring over a large map of the sector. He was a middle-aged man whose black hair was plentifully sprinkled with gray. He greeted the Americans pleasantly, though he appeared a little dubious as to the advisability of allowing them to run the risk of a journey to the observation post. A few diplomatic words from Lieutenant D'Arraing, however, soon straightened out matters, and he gave his consent.
"Kindly take seats, Messieurs," he said. "I shall be ready in a few moments."
The dugout, besides being furnished with several chairs and a table, had a number of bunks ranged around the walls. Then, of course, military maps of various kinds and sizes were prominently in evidence on all sides.
While they were waiting for the Captain, Don began to tell Lieutenant D'Arraing about their interesting experience at the Château de Morancourt. The artillery lieutenant listened attentively, from time to time shaking his head in a puzzled fashion.
"Very mystifying, to say the least!" he exclaimed. "However, I've heard some of the boys speak of the soldier you met. I believe he is on an extended leave of absence and for some reason or other which no one seems to understand makes his home at the café and restaurant, with a cat as his sole companion."
"What!—actually living at the Cheval Noir!" cried Don. "And he never said a word about it. How is that for something queer, Dunstan Farrington?"
"It certainly is," admitted the art student. "He was so polite, too. I wonder why he didn't give us an introduction to the cat."
"The poilus around here regard him as an odd sort of a chap," volunteered the artillery officer.
"By George, I'm beginning to scent another mystery!" declared Don. "And I won't be satisfied until——"
"Messieurs, I am ready."
The voice of the captain, breaking in upon Don's words, caused them all to rise to their feet.
Trooping behind the erect form of the veteran military man into the bright glare of out-of-doors, Don Hale reflected, with a little chuckle of delight, that it is not given to many to accompany artillery officers on such an expedition.