THE KHAKI BOYS FIGHTING TO WIN
[CHAPTER I]
BURIED ALIVE
Distant rumbles, like those of some far-off thunderstorm, penetrated even to the dugout, which was constructed under a greater depth of earth than usual. At times some fearful, though far-removed, explosion would cause the solid ground to tremble, while articles on the rude shelves of the shelter would fall down with resultant crashes.
"Some bombardment—that!" exclaimed one of a number of khaki-clad soldiers who were busying themselves in varying fashion in their bomb-proof quarters.
"I should say so!" agreed another. "If our boys keep this up long there won't be enough Germans left for us to have a scrimmage with!"
"Don't you fool yourself, Bob!" exclaimed Sergeant Jimmy Blaise. "There are more Germans left alive than we have any idea of. There'll be plenty left for you to tackle."
"Now your mind's relieved on that score, would you mind passing that oil can, Bob?" requested Roger Barlow. "There's a spot of rust on my gun, and if we're going to have another big fight soon I don't want the lock to jam at a critical time."
"Another big fight, eh?" mused Robert Dalton, as he complied with his bunkie's request. "That's about all we've been doing lately."
"That's what we're here for," suggested Sergeant Jimmy. "And the more big fights we have the sooner it will be over."