Facing the door, their hands high above their heads, their faces bearing every appearance of the utmost terror, were twelve Germans, the sole survivors of the enemy force that had defended the two houses now in the possession of the marines.
Their faces blanched as Hal, Chester and Sergeant Bowers took a step forward.
“Kamerad!” they cried. “Kamerad! Kamerad!”
It was the work of only a few minutes to make prisoners of these men, after which, under guard, they were marched out and turned over to the proper authorities.
The fighting in Chateau Thierry had ceased. The duel of big guns still raged, but the American mastery of Chateau Thierry and the whole of Belleau Woods no longer could be disputed.
It was 10 o’clock that night when Hal and Chester found themselves alone in their temporary quarters in Chateau Thierry.
“Well, we went through ’em, old boy,” said Hal quietly.
“Of course,” said Chester. “And from this time we’ll go through ’em almost at will. And it was the Prussian Guard we licked. Think of that! The pride of the German emperor—the best troops he boasted.”
“Mark my words,” said Hal, “while the fighting is by no means over, this is the beginning of the end. We’ve met the best the enemy had to offer and it wasn’t good enough. They’ve lost thousands upon thousands. Their morale is shattered at last. Oh, they’ll probably fight on and on, but from this time forward there can be no doubt of the ultimate result.”
“Right.” Chester agreed. “As our friend Bowers would say, ‘They’re through!’”