The adventures that were encountered by a squad of Yanks under the command of Herbert Whitcomb, accompanied by Don Richards, illustrate these facts and portray many of the conditions that the invading Americans faced with remarkable intrepidity in the Argonne Forest.
CHAPTER XI
A Risky Undertaking
DON RICHARDS received some information on the morning of October 1st that caused him a sort of real joy. This word came from an orderly sergeant sent by the lieutenant-colonel of a regiment of the Twenty-eighth Division, after a messenger had been received from Captain Lowden, who had, in turn, obtained facts from two of his men. A liaison man with the sleeve straps of a sergeant had been seen, among bushes, to go quickly forward beyond the American positions and toward a point farther on known to be occupied by the Germans. There could be but little doubt but that the man was carrying information to the enemy. A watch had been set for his return, which was likely to occur at any time, and identification was desired.
Don was on his way at once and soon reached the position held by Captain Lowden’s company; the boy also then went on watch, which really amounted to picket duty, and he knew there were other pickets lying among the bushes and boulders fifty yards or so on each side of him. He had requested to be allowed to watch the spot where the liaison sergeant was seen to disappear, but the captain said two of his best men had that position and no one could get past them. So Don hid himself among some bushes in a little vale, along which a narrow path ran, hugging the hillside. There were many such paths traversing the forest, crossing and re-crossing, leading in every direction; the boy wondered whether they were made by hares or deer; there were enough humans frequenting the place to make their tracks thus visible, though since the Germans came into this area they no doubt used these paths because of the easier walking.
This picket duty was a long and tiresome vigil; the other men were relieved, but Don refused to turn over his watch to another. It was a warm day, balmy, spring-like, reminding him of Indian summer in the States, and as the afternoon came on and the hours still slowly trailed away, the boy grew drowsy.
He hardly knew what made him wake; there was no sound, no other impression upon his senses that he could understand, but suddenly his eyes were wide open and his thinking apparatus was going one hundred per cent. This was compelled by what he discerned some distance away within the little valley: a German soldier and a man in khaki were just parting; the latter turned to say another word to the Hun, then came slowly, watchfully along the path.
Don knew the fellow at once—the same short, stout, dark-featured sergeant, and the boy, whom it was impossible for the other to see, crouched like a cat about to spring on its prey, the reliable automatic held in his hand. This was his duty, though no doubt another human being would be compelled to stand before a firing squad.
But again this conjecture was to prove erroneous; the plan was sidetracked. What alarmed the spy Don never knew; the fellow suddenly stopped when less than half way along the vale, stood peering ahead and stooping to see the better; then as quickly turned and retraced his steps, disappearing around the bend of the hill.