CHAPTER VII
AT GRIPS WITH DEATH
There was a series of clicks as the bayonets slipped in their sockets.
“In less than five minutes now!” muttered Tom.
Suddenly the great American guns opened up with a roar that sounded as though the earth had split asunder. There was a deeper bass note than usual that the Army Boys’ trained ears detected in an instant.
“Those must be the naval guns we’ve been hearing so much about,” said Frank to Billy.
“That’s what,” replied Billy, “and they’re some guns, too. I hear that they throw nearly a ton of metal a distance of sixteen miles. They’re the biggest guns that have ever been used in battle, and they spell hard luck for the Heinies.”
“I wonder how we’re going to get across this canal,” pondered Tom, as they waited for the word to charge.
“Our engineers will have seen to that,” said Frank confidently. “Trust those boys to be on the job. Maybe it will be rafts, maybe pontoons. You remember how we got across the Meuse the other time. At the worst we can swim it.”
But as it grew lighter with each succeeding minute, they saw that they would not have to swim. During the night, the engineers had assembled a string of barges which they had laid beside each other and covered with planking. The work had been done under fire and the losses had been heavy, but the engineers were of the same plucky type as those who had dropped their picks and shovels and gone into the fight at Cambrai, and those others who had helped Carey to stop the gap on the road to Amiens. They had stuck to their job until their work was done, and several such bridges were now ready for use at different points along the American line.
“Stand ready,” came the command that thrilled the Army Boys from head to foot.