"Something doing up there!" shouted Dunstan, his face close to Don's.
"Awful!" cried the aviator's son. He shuddered. "Here we are—caught—almost as helpless as rats in a trap. The trench is so far in advance of the support lines that the Germans may succeed in cutting us off. Whew! Just listen!"
The cracking of rifles—of machine guns—was simply terrific. But occasionally the keen ears of the boys caught other sounds even more terrible, more sinister than these ceaseless reports—the human voice raised as if in uncontrollable fury—as if in the greatest desperation and pain. The Red Cross men, listening, with every nerve at the keenest tension, knew what was going on—the hostile forces had come together and in a desperate hand-to-hand conflict were fighting with all the savagery and ferocity of wild animals of the jungle.
At last the howls and shouts and yells abruptly ended.
Had the French lines broken before the attack? Were the Germans in the trench?
Unable to bear the suspense, Don Hale sprang for the ladder. Cautiously, he began to mount; anxiously, he poked his head above the opening.
Then he drew a long thankful breath. The blue line had held.
French soldiers were still on the firing-step, sending volley after volley toward the east. Ahead a great portion of the trench had been utterly demolished; there was no longer any parapet or parados, but a mass of earth jumbled and piled together in the most extraordinary confusion. Nearer at hand débris choked up the passageway.
Don Hale allowed his gaze to rest on this evidence of destruction for only a moment. Something else had attracted the boy's attention and drawn an exclamation from his lips. Thick, impenetrable clouds of smoke were rolling slowly across the narrow strip of "No Man's Land," and he realized at once the reason for it—the Germans had created a curtain by means of smoke bombs in order to conceal their movements. Perhaps at that very instant they were ready to launch another attack.
Never at any time since his entrance into the war zone had the aviator's son felt peril to be so imminent. Should he and Dunstan venture forth they would expose themselves to the chance of being hit by some of the flying bullets; should they remain there was the possibility of capture.