CHAPTER XIX
The Scope of it All
AND now, as the days passed and the fighting settled down to more of a desultory routine than it had been in the earlier stages of the terrific struggle, these men who had earned a new glory for the United States and American arms began to get a new perspective on what it was they had accomplished in squeezing that big bulge out of the enemy line. For the first time since the drive began they had opportunity to take account of stock, as it were, and to realize what it was they had done in administering ignominious defeat to these supposedly crack troops of the Kaiser—troops that had rested and trained over a long period while holding the St. Mihiel salient as a constant menace over all that section of France immediately beyond.
What was it that these Americans had accomplished? They had set the tide of war against the Hun hordes—started them upon the retreat which ended in defeat and disaster, and thus began the ending of the worst war in all human history.
Within the second day of the big drive the Americans had taken Thiaucourt, Thillet, Hattonville, Herbeville, St. Benoit, Jaulny, Vieville and Xammes, and Boche prisoners to the number of more than 15,000. As a matter of fact the German character is such that he is only courageous when victorious, only daring when fighting in excessively superior numbers, and optimistic only so long as fortune smiles upon his side. Let the conditions be reversed and his courage turns to cowardice, his daring becomes cringing fear, and surrender and safety become his dominant thoughts.
Thus it was as the Americans pushed on, overcoming all obstacles, fighting and conquering, even against great odds and under the most severe handicaps. The Germans, once realizing the invincibility and the determination of the armies in pursuit of them, lost their vaunted courage, ignored orders, cried “Kamarad! Kamarad!” in treacherous beseeching for mercy, throwing themselves upon the very principle of humanity which they had defied and attempted to destroy.
Nor had the boys themselves come through the terrible battle and their own harrowing experiences entirely unscathed. Tom, who had escaped wounds, was now bewailing the misfortune which had led him, crawling, one day during the attack, through a clump of weeds which had badly poisoned the left hand and arm. He had had two days under a surgeon’s treatment, and though on the way to speedy recovery, still had the damaged member swathed in drug-soaked bandages.
George Harper could tell what it felt like when a bullet cut its way across his scalp, just a fraction of an inch above the point where it would have meant his instant death. As Ollie put it, George had established a new style of coiffure for the army, parting his hair across, in the direction from ear to ear.
Ollie’s own optimism, however, was often strained as his face twitched with the pain from a badly sprained ankle which compelled him still to hobble around with a cane. And Ollie could trace his own pain and discomfort directly to a German, although the latter paid the worst penalty in the scrimmage, which involved the Hun, Ollie and a Frenchman who had come upon the scene in time to participate in the conclusion of the hostilities.
It was one of those personal encounters which were so frequent in the fighting in the woods. Ollie had come face to face with a Boche nearly twice his size in a thick clump of trees whose heavy foliage made the place almost as dark as night in mid-day. The German was out of ammunition, but evidently having heard or seen the young American approaching, he had the butt of his rifle posed for a crashing blow over Ollie’s scalp when that wide-awake youth realized his position and the necessity for instant action. It was too late to retreat, and he had lost his own gun ten minutes before and also was without bullets for his revolver.
He dodged, just as the gun descended, and as the heavy butt of the rifle came down upon his shoulders he grabbed the German by the legs and upset him. But Ollie also went down at the same time, and under the weight of the massive Boche. He wriggled free and had partially arisen when the German again threw his more than two hundred pounds of avoirdupois upon him. The force of the impact was such that something had to give way, and it was the ankle upon which most of the load came. In the excitement of the moment Ollie did not even feel a twinge of pain, for it was a life and death struggle, with all the odds in favor of the German. It was just at that moment that the Frenchman put in his appearance. With a glitter in his eyes that seemed to reflect all the stored-up wrath and hatred of France against the German race, the poilu raised his gun, butt-end first, just as the German had done when Ollie came upon him. But this time it was the German who was the intended victim, and he could not escape while the youthful American retained his iron grasp around his knees.