Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line Part 10

"But you'll be moved up as fast as it's possible to do so," said the officer who directed them. "The fighting's getting heavier and heavier."

And this was true, for about this time the 42d American Division was in position east of Rheims where, a little later, a great German attack was launched, and, as all the world now knows, was flung back with disaster to the Hun forces.

The railroad journey, from a point near their disembarkation port to their training camp, was not a very comfortable one, as the troops had to travel in cars that were used at times for horses. But every one was in good spirits, and little inconveniences were laughed at.

And finally, after three days, the welcome word was given to leave the trains and march to the camp. This was situated in a beautiful part of France--that is, it had been beautiful before the spoliation by the Huns, and there Ned, Bob and Jerry, with thousands of their comrades, prepared for the last phase of their training. Before them was the enemy.

"Well, here at last!" remarked Jerry, as he eased himself from his pack, and, with his two chums, stacked the guns together. "I wonder what happens first?"

"Suppose you come over and have some chocolate?" suggested a voice behind the boys, and, turning, they saw a pleasant-faced young man, whose hair, however, was gray. He wore a semi-military uniform, but a glance at his sleeve showed the red triangle, and the letters "Y. M.

C. A." were not needed to tell his character.

"Come over and make yourselves at home," he went on. "You'll have time before you'll be called on to report."

"Thank you, we will," said Jerry. "Some chocolate would touch the spot."

"I've got two spots that need touching," laughed Bob.

"Won't you boys come, too?" invited the Y. M. C. A. worker, as he turned to some others who had marched up as Ned, Bob and Jerry were moving away.

"What? Trail in with a lot of psalm-singing goody-goodies?" was the sneering retort of one, and it needed only a glance to show that the speaker was Noddy Nixon.

"He's here--worse luck!" murmured Ned.

"No Y. M. C. A. for mine!" sneered Noddy.

"Boor!" muttered Bob, in protest.

"There is a Knights of Columbus station next to ours, and a Salvation Army hut, as well as a Jewish Community station, here in camp," was the gentle answer of the secretary. "If you prefer one of those you will be very welcome, I know. We are all working together for you boys."

"None for mine!" sneered Noddy. "I want some cigarettes!"

"I can let you have some at my _foyer_," said the secretary, with a smile. "I don't smoke myself, but I like the smell of it mighty well.

Come along."

But Noddy laughed sneeringly, and would not go. However, Ned, Bob and Jerry accompanied the Y. M. C. A. man, and very glad they were to buy, at a modest price, some cups of chocolate, and also some cakes of it to put in their pockets.

"These Y. M. C. A. and K. C. places are all to the merry!" voted Ned.

"They were great back at Camp Dixton, but they're twice as good here!"

"And we'll look after you, as well as we can, when you get on the firing line," said their new friend. "You'll have to depend on the Salvation Army la.s.sies for doughnuts, but we can give you smokes and chocolate almost any time. Have some more!"

He made the boys and their comrades so welcome that they hated to leave to go to roll call. But this must be done, and soon they were a.s.signed to barracks, much the same as in Camp Dixton.

CHAPTER IX

ON THE FIRING LINE

The training Ned, Bob and Jerry went through in the French camp, though on a more intense scale and with greater attention to detail, was much like that which they had obtained at Camp Dixton, and that has been related at length in the volume preceding this.

There were the same drills to go through, only they were harder, and in charge were men who had seen terrible fighting. Some of them were American army officers, sent back from the front to instruct the new recruits, and others were French and British officers, detailed to teach the raw troops who, at first, were brigaded with the veterans.

It was rise early in the morning, drill hard all day, attend some school of instruction in the evening, and then, after a brief visit perhaps to the Y. M. C. A. hut or one of the other rest tents, go to bed, to get up and do it all over again the next day.

But the boys never felt it monotonous, nor did they complain of the hard work. They knew it was necessary, and here on the very fighting ground itself--in wonderful France--there was a greater incentive to apply oneself to the mastering of the lessons of the war.

Then, too, they saw or heard at first hand of the indescribable cruelties and atrocities of the Huns. Ned, Bob, Jerry, and their comrades saw with what fervor the French and British were proceeding with the war, and their own spirits were inflamed.

No work was too hard for them, from learning to throw hand grenades, taught by men who had had them thrown at them, to digging trenches laid out after the fashion of those on either side of No Man's Land.

Then came small sham engagements, when, imagining the sample trenches to be held by Germans, a company would storm them to drive out the "enemy."

In fair and rainy weather this work went on, and it rained more often than not, as Jerry wrote home to his mother. The chums could write, but there was no telling when the missives would be delivered, nor when they would get any in return, for there was such congestion that the mail service broke down at times, and no wonder. So, though eventually the home folks--and in them is included "the girls"--got all the mail intended for them, there were days of anxious waiting.

Meanwhile the Motor Boys were perfecting themselves as soldiers, and were winning the commendation of their officers. Jerry was promoted to be first corporal, and in his squad of seven were Ned and Bob, much to their delight.

"It's a pleasure to take orders from you, old man," said Ned.

"Well, I won't give any more than I have to," remarked the tall lad, now taller and more bronzed than ever.

Professor Snodgra.s.s had managed to find quarters in a village not far from camp, and from there he came to see the boys occasionally. He was getting his affairs in shape to proceed with the study of the matter at present under his attention.

"Have you heard anything from Miss Petersen or Miss Gibbs?" asked Jerry.

"No, not a word," was the answer. "I have sent several letters, and made inquiries of the authorities here, but the latter give me very little encouragement. That's bad, too; for I've just had word from home that makes my share in that inheritance seem of more importance than ever," and the professor gave a little sigh.

"Why, what's happened, Professor?" questioned Jerry, with quick sympathy.

"I lent some money," explained Professor Snodgra.s.s, "to one of my friends--an old friend with whom I went through college--to help him over a hard place. But he has not got over his troubles; in fact, his affairs are growing worse, and it looks as if I would never get my money back. And that will cripple me, cripple me badly, boys. Yes, I need the money that Professor Petersen was good enough to leave me."

"Well, let's hope that you find those girls quickly, Professor, and get that inheritance very soon," said Ned.

"But I am afraid I shall have to wait until you boys capture Germany, and then I can go in and search."

"Us boys--with help," chuckled Jerry.

"Well, if it keeps up the way we've started we'll soon have the Hun on the run!" declared Ned, and he spoke with some truth, for soon was to be the beginning of the successful American advance.

Greatly to their relief the boys saw little of Noddy Nixon, for he was housed in barracks at the opposite end of the camp from those in which they were billeted. But they met him occasionally, and listened with ill-concealed disgust to his boasts, and his talk of having tried in vain to enlist before he was drafted.

"If they'd give me an aeroplane I'd go over the German lines and make 'em sit up and take notice!" boasted the bully.

"Why don't you send home for what's left of your '_Tin Fly_'?" asked Ned, with a wink at his chums.

"Aw, you dry up!" commanded Noddy, for this airship, which he had once built to compete in an exhibition, was a sore point with him, as it had not justified its name.