CHAPTER XIII
IN THE TIDE OF BATTLE
The end of the German drive on the western front, as my readers know, had failed to break the Allied lines. The enemy, however, had succeeded in driving them back for miles, inflicting and receiving great losses of men and material. To those who understood the situation, it must have been disheartening, though we in the ranks, of course, could know but little beyond that which was taking place before our eyes. The high officers, who did know, feared that the enemy, by the advantage of quicker concentration because of holding interior lines, might by successive drives be able to force their army so near Paris as to endanger the city, or, on the farther western front, be able to reach the channel ports and thus divide the Allied armies.
It was while victory was trembling in the balance on the far-flung battle lines, that our regiment was called to battle.
We removed from ground we occupied to a point west of an ancient city, not far from a river.
Regiments of French and American soldiers were marching on the roads to places assigned them. Machine-gun emplacements were being made. The effective light guns were hurrying into place. Here and there cavalry was sparsely seen. Engineers, with their sappers and miners with shovels and picks, moved along with pontoon trains of collapsible canvas boats and wooden batteaux for bridges. Here and there were pitiful families of refugees, with wagons high piled with household goods, escaping from homes about to be swept by the fiery tide of war. The women with babes in arms, and children hugging rag dolls and toys, were straggling on in pathetic groups.
To the ordinary eye all seemed confusion, but there was a thread of order controlling this mass of moving material and men.
“This is going to be a sure enough battle,” remarked Corporal Sutherland.
“Not for us,” said a lieutenant; “we shall get in the edges of it, possibly.” “We have got to do our best today,” said our “Top.” “They,”—making a gesture toward the French regiments—“are watching us.”
“They will find fighting stuff here,” proudly replied the lieutenant. And our captain, looking along his halted company with a critical but satisfied glance, said, “They will do!”
An enemy airplane, hovering high in air, viewed us. Several of our craft flew upward in circling flight to punish his inquisitiveness. Near us marched a regiment whose uniforms and long strides showed them to be Americans. Some horses were passing with the marching column. Muddy flew out, barking vociferously. One of the horses gave a whinney of recognition, as the dog jumped and yelped at his head.