The speaker was Chester. It was morning again and Hal had just introduced his chum to his newly found friends.
Lieutenant Jenkins smiled.
“I wouldn’t say that,” was his reply. “Smith and I haven’t earned the right yet to be called that. But we are marine officers, if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s just what I mean,” said Chester. “To tell you the truth, I never have found out just where the marines won that name, but I know it wasn’t bestowed without reason.”
“The name is the result of the first encounter between American marines and Germans in the Soissons region,” returned Lieutenant Jenkins. “I don’t know the details of that scrap, but from all accounts it must have been a warm one. There were only a few of our fellows in that engagement—only the fraction of a division. They were flanked right and left by French and British.
“The enemy came on recklessly in the face of a heavy artillery fire. Under a rain of shells from the German lines, the right and left wings—the French and British—gave ground slightly. But the marines held, and more. In the face of what seemed utter annihilation, our fellows suddenly dashed forward. To the enemy it must have appeared the wildest folly. Perhaps it was. But it saved the day.
“So great was the enemy’s astonishment that for a moment his fire slackened. In that moment our fellows were upon the Germans with the bayonet. The enemy broke and fled, the marines in hot pursuit. At this juncture the wings rallied and came to our support. The Germans were driven back to their own trenches with heavy losses.”
“But the name,” said Chester; “who was responsible for the name, the ‘Devil Dogs’?”
“Oh, the name,” repeated Jenkins. “I believe the Germans themselves were responsible for that. After the battle, as I understand it, the German soldiers told one another that we were ‘devils’ and ‘dogs.’ I guess someone joined the words.”
“At all events,” laughed Hal, “you fellows have some reputation to live up to.”