“Here’s where the Marine Corps loses a private of the first class,” said Bowers, with something like a grin, as he made sure that his automatic was ready for business.
“Looks like a certain lieutenant was going along with you,” replied Hal, again glancing over his shoulder and calculating the distance to the approaching American forces. “Well, they’ve seen us anyhow,” he added.
There came a shout of encouragement from the Yankee line and the troops appeared to redouble their speed.
“Help on the way, sir,” said Bowers.
“And the Germans are here,” rejoined Hal. “Don’t waste a shot, Bowers.”
“I wear a marksman’s medal, sir,” replied Bowers simply.
The Germans still came forward with a rush. Hal and Bowers stood to the wall, their revolvers poked slightly above and beyond it.
In this position, both were exposed to rifle fire from the enemy, but if they intended to fight back and not be caught like rats in a trap there was no help for it.
“Crack!”
Hal’s revolver spoke first and a German toppled in his tracks.