Army Boys in France Part 20

The boys jumped to their feet.

"That hit mighty close!" cried Frank.

"What do you suppose it was?" came from Tom. "A sh.e.l.l?"

"We're too far away from the German lines for that," replied Bart.

"More likely it's a bomb from an airship," said Frank. "Let's take a squint outside and see."

They rushed out and their first glance was toward the sky. But there was nothing visible there, nor could they hear the whirring of motors that was the invariable accompaniment of air raids.

But when they searched around the mill they were more successful, for the bright moonlight revealed a freshly dug hole in the ground that formed a veritable crater.

"It was a bomb all right," p.r.o.nounced Frank. "And from the size of the hole it made it was a lallapalooza. It's lucky it didn't hit the mill."

"I guess some Hun aviator was flying back to his own lines and dropped this as a sort of visiting card," said Billy. "Oh, well, what's a little bit of bomb between friends? Come on back, fellows."

"Yes, come along in and listen to Caruso," chaffed Tom.

Once inside, Billy again picked up his banjo and began to croon.

"It rained all night the day I left The next day it was dry.

The sun so hot I froze to def Suzanna, don't you cry."

One after another took up the rollicking chorus--

"Oh, Suzanna, Don't you cry for me, Fur I'se gwine to Alabama Wif de banjo on my knee."

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_ came three quick explosions, blending in a tremendous roar.

At the same instant a hole appeared in the roof. Part of it caved in and came clattering down while a blinding glare filled the room!

CHAPTER XVIII

A GRIM REALITY

The strumming ceased and the banjo fell to the floor. For a moment confusion reigned supreme.

The shock and the glare had a paralyzing effect but it lasted only for an instant. Then the army boys pulled themselves together.

"Is anyone hurt?" shouted Frank, as he looked about him.

A groan came from a distant corner. They rushed in that direction.

Fred Anderson was trying to struggle to his feet and in an instant willing arms supported him. His face was pale, blood was flowing from a gash in his forehead and his right leg crumpled up beneath him as he tried to bear his weight upon it.

"I guess the old pin's gone back on me, boys," he said with a faint attempt to smile. "I don't seem to have any feeling in it. I guess the Huns got me that time."

A quick examination showed that the leg was broken just below the knee.

They quickly improvised a temporary splint and a field ambulance was called. The gash in the head proved to be only a flesh wound of no great importance. But it bled freely and gave the impression that Fred was dangerously, perhaps mortally wounded.

It was the first time that these young novices in the art of war had seen blood flowing from American veins from a wound inflicted by a German, and it brought home to them that they were really in the war and might at any instant, like their luckless comrade, come to hand grips with death.

"That sure was a close call," remarked Frank, after Fred, having been made as comfortable as possible, had been carried off by the ambulance to the field hospital. "It might have blown us all to bits."

"That roof may be all right to keep out rain," said Billy, "but it wasn't built for bombs."

"It must have been a glancing blow," commented Tom. "If it had come plump through our name would have been Dennis. It must have spent most of its force on the ridge pole and slid off to the ground."

"Very considerate of it," said Bart, dryly.

"There may be more where that came from," suggested Billy. "There may be a whole squadron of Hun flyers up there in the sky."

"I guess it will be healthier to stay outside for a while," said Tom.

"We can see the bombs coming and dodge them. It will be a new kind of outdoor sport."

"It's a new game all right," Bart flung over his shoulder as they made their way outside. "And a game where the stakes are high. You pay dearly if you lose."

They all reached the open, where they found that the entire camp had been aroused by the nocturnal raid. They quickly learned from their excited comrades that other billets had been targets for the marauders and that several soldiers had been severely injured, while one was killed.

Searchlights were sweeping the sky in the attempt to locate the hostile planes. Anti-aircraft guns were popping, and the French escadrille had already mounted to give battle.

"There comes one!" shouted Frank, as his keen eyes caught sight of a tiny blaze coming through the air. "That's the fuse of a bomb."

"And it's coming right toward us!" yelled Bart. "Run fellows--quick!"

They needed no second injunction and it was well they moved quickly, for a moment later, the messenger of death came down close to the spot where they had been standing and exploded with a tremendous roar.

But they had thrown themselves flat on their faces, behind whatever shelter they could find and the rain of iron missiles zipped over and all around them without inflicting much damage.

"I went down in a mud puddle that time," growled Bart, as he rose dripping.

"I notice you stayed there, though," grinned Tom.

"Any port in a storm," laughed Billy. "There's no time to pick and choose when those ticklers are coming down. It's a case of 'the quick or the dead'."

"I was quick all right," grumbled Tom, as he rubbed his knee, "and I'd almost rather be dead than do it again. See that stone? It got me!"

For some minutes more occasional bombs dropped down over a wide area, especial attention being devoted to the field hospital in accordance with the usual brutal German tactics.

But there were no more casualties, and after awhile the bombardment ceased.

"Guess they're all out of ammunition," conjectured Frank, when at last quiet reigned.