Chester shrugged.
“It seems that Marshal Foch has not decided yet that the time for an offensive is ripe,” he replied. “At the same time, I am not convinced that we should attack right now. The two divisions of marines are somewhat scattered, as you know, and are not in position to give each other the necessary support. Then, too, we must be greatly outnumbered.”
“What difference does that make?” Hal wanted to know. “They’re running now, aren’t they? What’s the matter with pushing them a little faster?”
Chester smiled.
“I’m going to recommend you as General Pershing’s successor,” he said.
“Is that so?” demanded Hal. “Let me tell you that it wasn’t so long ago I heard you advance ideas that you believed were better than any that had occurred to the general staff.”
Chester grinned.
“I guess we’ll both make a couple of good generals some day,” he said. “But all joking aside, do you know just where we are now?”
“Well, about,” said Hal. “This is Belleau Woods. Beyond there,” and the lad pointed directly ahead, “is what is known as Chateau Thierry. A city has sprung up around the old chateau, but I don’t know whether the Germans have left anything of it. It was rather a famous spot in its day.”
And it was to become still more famous, though neither lad knew it then.