Army Boys in France Part 27

"Impossible!" he exclaimed. "There is no United States Army in France."

Despite himself, the American officer could hardly suppress a smile.

"Just listen to him!" exclaimed Frank, who was within hearing distance.

"Didn't I tell you the Germans would believe anything their generals told them?" replied Bart.

"My, but this is rich!" chortled Tom.

"I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't heard it," chuckled Billy, in a tone too subdued for the lieutenant to notice.

"I a.s.sure you," said the lieutenant, "that there is an army of the United States in France, despite your unbelief. Why should it seem so strange?"

"But you couldn't possibly have gotten over here," persisted the prisoner.

"Why not?" asked the American.

"Because our U-boats would have stopped you," was the reply.

"No use," murmured Frank to Bart. "n.o.body home."

"Padded cell number nine hundred and ninety-nine," whispered Billy.

It was of no use to argue against such credulity, and the lieutenant gave it up.

The prisoners were marched back to camp, where the news of their coming had preceded them. It created a great sensation, and was the main topic of conversation for many days thereafter.

"It's been a red letter day," remarked Bart that night, as he prepared to climb into his bunk.

"You bet it has," agreed Frank. "We bagged a Zeppelin!"

Two days after these momentous events, a stir of expectation ran through the camp. Evidently some important move was in prospect. What it was, the rank and file did not know, but rumors and conjectures ran riot.

"There's something big coming, boys," said Frank, one night after supper.

"That's plain enough," agreed Bart. "But I'd give a lot to know just what it is."

"The corporal gave me a private tip," replied Frank. "He didn't go very far into it, but from what he hinted I have a hunch that none of us will go to bed to-night."

"What?" they cried, in chorus.

"That's what," returned Frank. "But of course it may be a false alarm.

Wilson himself wasn't any too sure."

An hour later the bugle blew, but this call was not for "lights out."

It was the command to "fall in."

Sudden as it was, the high state of discipline the men had reached was shown by the fact that there was no confusion. As precisely as veteran soldiers they fell into line by companies and platoons and waited for the order "Forward, march!"

The order was not long in coming, and as quietly as ghosts, with no band to lead them, the regiment swung into step and started off.

"We're on our way to the front," whispered Frank to Bart, who marched on his right.

"Off to the trenches!" agreed Bart. "Well, I'm glad the waiting time is over. Now, we'll have a chance to show what kind of soldiers we are."

For three whole hours the march went on without a halt. The night was clear although there was no moon. As the ground was dry and springy the going was good.

During that last hour the signs had multiplied that they were approaching the scene of battle. They pa.s.sed by bits of woodland where every leaf and twig had been stripped from the trees by sh.e.l.l fire, leaving only the scarred and ghastly trunks.

They went through villages, or what had once been villages, but were now only heaps of crumbling stone with, here and there, a shaky wall left standing.

They had to watch their footing more and more to avoid falling into craters where the ground had been torn up by sh.e.l.ls. There was no beauty in that part of fertile France that had once been like a "garden of the Lord."

War had breathed upon it, blighting and blasting every living thing, except the dauntless spirit of the people who were fighting and would fight to the last gasp in defense of liberty and civilization.

At last they reached a line of sentinels by whom they were greeted, not with challenges, but with exclamations of delight and welcome.

A little further on they came to a great gash in the earth that stretched in either direction like a huge black, zigzag blot.

They had reached the trenches!

But they did not stop there. Onward they went again, past another line of trenches.

"Gee! we must be going to the first line of trenches!" whispered Bart.

"That's what!" answered Frank.

CHAPTER XXIII

FACING THE HUN

Just this side of one of the lines of trenches the regiment halted at the word of the commander. Then it stood at attention and presented arms while from out the trenches came an endless line of men who had held that trench for France and now were yielding their place to the ardent young soldiers of the sister republic across the sea.

There was a strong impulse to cheer on both sides, but that might have betrayed to the enemy the change that was taking place in that sector of the line, and this for strategic reasons, it was desirable to avoid.

Soon the last of the war-worn veterans was lost in the darkness. Then, with infinite caution the boys of the old Thirty-seventh marched into the trenches, guided only by lanterns that waved low before them like so many fireflies.

So perfectly the movement had been planned, so carefully had been mapped out in advance the exact location that each unit of the command was to occupy, that, within an hour after the subst.i.tution had been made, the entire regiment was placed, and, apart from those detailed for duty, was sound asleep!

Curiosity ran riot when the army boys woke in their unfamiliar surroundings. At last they had reached the trenches, that magic word that they had heard again and again in the daily discussions of the last three years, and they studied every detail of their new surroundings with the keenest interest and zest.

Here they were to live, here some of them, beyond a question, were to die. The thought was sobering, and on that first day there was little of the gaiety and jest that had marked their life in the camps behind.

"Well, Bart, old scout, we're in for it now," said Frank, after breakfast, as he placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"In for fair," responded Bart.