The Brighton Boys in the Radio Service Part 13

There they received a plain but substantial meal, were inspected and admired by their British cousins, and then boarded the long troop train that already awaited them.

"Take your seats, Yankees!" shouted the bearded conductor jovially, and the boys piled in.

The details of that ride through England the boys from Brighton never will forget, although it was a long and tiring trip from Liverpool all the way to Dover, on the channel which separates England from the mainland of Europe.

They crossed fair fields and beautiful streams that reminded them of their own native land, and came within view of giant ancient forests.

They pa.s.sed through cities and towns and again came out into the open country.

Occasionally there were stops, when the soldiers were allowed to leave the train "to give their legs a stretch." At such times they were greeted affectionately on all sides by the men and women of England.

"Hi say, Slim, old top," Jerry imitated good-naturedly as they boarded the train again after one of these delays. "Hi say, did you 'ear that 'andsome little Hinglisher out there say as 'ow 'ealthy you looked?"

"Did 'e?" asked Slim, grinning.

"'E did," answered Jerry. And then, winking to Joe. "But 'e added, old top, that 'e thought you looked a trifle 'eavy."

Only the sudden jolt of the starting train saved Jerry from the wallop that Slim directed at him; and had it landed, Jerry doubtless would have found it "a trifle 'eavy," also.

There was a general laugh from the others in the car, for all three of the boys from Brighton had become immensely popular with their companions in arms, all of whom by this time had become well accustomed to this sort of gentle fun between the red-headed Jerry and "the 'ealthy, 'eavy lad" called Slim.

When they had been riding for another hour they came upon one of those vast English concentration camps where thousands of young Britons were being trained and equipped for war.

As the train slowly, very slowly, pa.s.sed around the outer edge of this camp, England saluted America, and America saluted England through their fearless young warriors. The young Britons shouted, waved flags, threw their hats into the air and sang. And the Americans, hanging from the car windows, and crowded out upon the platforms and steps, returned the demonstration with something for good measure.

From this point forward the journey constantly was punctuated by scenes and incidents significant of war. Here was an ambulance and Red Cross unit mobilizing for removal to the very heart of smoke and battle and bloodshed; there stood a row of houses whose battered roofs and tottering walls testified to a ruthless aerial night raid of the Germans.

It fired the blood of the Americans as they were reminded that these meagre evidences of Boche barbarity were as nothing compared to the deliberate and vicious ruin wrought in Belgium and northern France.

Dover at last--the channel port which marked the beginning of the last lap of their journey to France! The boys hardly could wait until the train came to a stop, to get a glimpse of the water, across which lay the scene of the bloodiest war in all history--a war in which they were to take an important part.

"They say this channel is awfully choppy," said Slim apprehensively, as they left the car. "Do you think, Jerry, that we're likely to get seasick again?"

"Don't know," responded Jerry, also somewhat dubiously, "but there's one consolation about it--it's only a short trip."

Never had the three boys from Brighton antic.i.p.ated such co-ordinated efficiency in the workings of a war machine. They had expected long delays, frequent disappointments and protracted periods of training before they should reach the front-line trenches.

Instead, they experienced consistent progress, many pleasant surprises and few disappointments; and now, upon reaching Dover, they soon learned that if it was at all possible they would board a transport that same night for the French side of the channel.

From the train they were marched to a great cantonment on the edge of the city. The procession there was like a triumphant march, with throngs lined along the streets to cheer them as they pa.s.sed.

For more than a year before, enemy propaganda in the United States had constantly preached that England was weary of the war. This did not look like it. The very atmosphere breathed the spirit of "carry on," of renewed determination to fight to a finish.

Amid such a spirit the Brighton boys reached the cantonment and after a hasty roll-call sat down to what they one and all p.r.o.nounced a "fine feed."

They rested for several hours and then were again ordered to fall in.

The march was begun to the docks, where three steamers to be used as transports were being loaded with provisions and ammunition.

Together with other American troops which had been awaiting their arrival, they went aboard the transports, but it was not till long after midnight that they were under way.

Not a light was permitted on board. Not even the officers were allowed to strike a match or to smoke. No unnecessary noises were permitted, and the whole proceeding spoke of the secrecy of war work and the danger of revealing their plans or their whereabouts to any prowling enemy.

With the dawn, scores of the men were on deck, including Joe, Jerry and Slim--and they were well within sight of land. Preparations already were being made for their landing, and a great excitement prevailed on each of the ships. Their long-held hopes were coming to fruition.

France at last!

CHAPTER XI

TAPPING THE ENEMY'S WIRE

The following morning all of those who had arrived on the transports were established in a concentration camp, but it was merely for the purpose of inspection of men and equipment, and was not to be for long.

It was that same day that the three boys from Brighton were for the first time a.s.signed to a regular unit of the Signal Corps.

Also, with a real thrill, they learned that they were almost immediately to see war service, for American troops were already in the trenches.

It was a happy circ.u.mstance for the three lads that they had had such close a.s.sociation with Lieutenant Mackinson, for, without question, he already had gained an enviable reputation, and when he was ordered to emergency service, and told he might choose the five men who were to be under his direction, his three a.s.sistants on the trip across were the first ones named.

The other two were Tom Rawle, a fellow proportioned like their first friend in the service, Sergeant Martin, and a wiry, energetic, quick-speaking youth named Frank Hoskins.

"We have a long trip before us," Lieutenant Mackinson informed them, "and we leave here on a special train in two hours. In a short time we will be in the thick of it."

It was joyous information for the five, and they set about their few preparations with a zest only experienced by boys knowing they have important work to do, and feeling capable of doing it well.

"How long have you been over?" Joe asked of Tom Rawle.

"Got here two weeks ago," the big fellow answered. "But I haven't had any real service yet. I was a.s.signed once to Cambrai, but before I reached there a big drive was under way, the Germans were being pushed back, and the detachment to which I had been a.s.signed was so far forward that my orders were changed and I was sent back here."

"Did you get within sound of the big guns?" asked Slim excitedly.

"I should say so," answered Tom Rawle. "And so will you within a few hours. Isn't that so, Hoskins?"

"Yes," answered Frank, "and when you do you'll get a new idea of the fighting qualities of the French and Americans, going shoulder to shoulder against the Boches."

"Hoskins knows," explained Rawle, "for he got nearer than I did."

"Only for a short time," Frank corrected modestly, "but they called it my 'baptism of fire.' I was out one night with an advance party. We were nearly ambushed, and had to beat a quick retreat."

"Well, tell them all about it," demanded Tom Rawle, impatient at Frank's unwillingness to talk much about himself.

"Oh, they fired on us from a distance of about a hundred yards," the other lad admitted, "and it was a surprise party for fair, I can tell you. When bullets begin singing around your head for the first time, and especially when they come without any warning from the enemy, or any expectation on your part, it does give you rather a peculiar sort of feeling.

"They got one of the fellows in our party with a bullet in the arm, then we all dropped on our stomachs and wriggled our way back into our own lines without any further damage. But we did some rapid wriggling, you can bet. There wasn't any time wasted by any of us, and inasmuch as we were apparently outnumbered, we did not fire back, for fear of giving them an exact range of our whereabouts.

"After that I was sent back along the rear lines on an inspection trip which brought me all the way to this point, where I was held for the formation of this unit."