THE BIG GUN
Several days passed, during which Don, Dunstan and Chase saw duty
at the outpost. For the most part of the time the sector remained
comparatively calm, though occasionally the big guns on both sides
pounded away in a fashion that suggested the beginning of a real
curtain of fire.
Don and the young chap from Maine were now working together on number
eight, Dunstan and "Tiny" Mason having been assigned by Chief Wendell
to take charge of ambulance number three.
All of the Red Cross drivers mentioned made several trips to the
field hospital, but on none of their runs did they encounter any very
thrilling adventures.
Don Hale had not forgotten the artillery officer's invitation to visit
the battery; so when the day on which he was to be en repos rolled
around he declared his intention of putting the plan into immediate
execution.
"Not for me," drawled Chase. "I'm going to read all day and forget
there is such a thing as war."
Dunstan, on the other hand, was decidedly enthusiastic.
"Sure, I'm going," he declared.
"Bully for you!" cried Don. "Hooray! We'll have a dandy time."
Immediately after breakfast the two left the Hotel de la Palette, and
in due course reached that section of the country where the battery was
located. By the aid of information which a sentry kindly gave them the
boys discovered Lieutenant D'Arraing conversing with the crew of one of
the big guns located behind a group of trees. His eyes brightened at
their approach.
"Ah, bon jour, mes Americaines!" he cried, in cordial accents. "Your
visit is very well timed indeed--unless you have already run into so
much danger that you do not care to risk any more."
"Try us, and see," said Don, smilingly.
"I will take you at your word. One of our airplane observers brought
in a report to the effect that he has very strong suspicions that the
Germans have erected a wireless station on a certain building behind
their trenches."
"Aha!" exclaimed Dunstan, interestedly.
"Of course we cannot permit any such liberty; so the captain and I
shall shortly be off to an observation post, in order to spot the
bursts of smoke from the shells when the work of putting that wireless
plant out of commission is begun."
Don Hale's eyes sparkled. Hopefully and with much anticipation he
awaited the lieutenant's next words, and they were exactly what he
wanted to hear.
"I should be pleased to have you come along."
"Well, we'll be mighty glad to do so," cried the boy, delightedly.
"No mistake about that," chimed in Dunstan.
"Good! But I must warn you in advance that there is a very grave
element of risk."
"That doesn't scare us a bit," laughed Don.
"It is settled, then. Here, let me show you." Lieutenant D'Arraing
unrolled a military map and spread it out on the top of a row of
bushes. Then calling the boys' attention to a numbered pencil mark on
its surface, he added: "This is where our observer locates the wireless
station of the Boches."
Don and Dunstan studied the map with great interest.
"How extraordinarily detailed it is!" cried the former.
"Yes; the position of every clump of trees and even of single ones is
indicated--in fact such small things as hedges have not been omitted.
Our game is very exacting, you know."
To the ordinary eye the map was quite confusing, for besides the
multiplicity of typographical details there were numerous red and blue
lines branching off from various points.
"What do they mean?" queried Don.
"The location of certain batteries and their range," explained the
artillery officer. "Now, kindly step this way."
About fifty feet further on the three came to a halt before a rounded
elevation, on a mound of earth.
"Entrez, Messieurs," said Lieutenant D'Arraing, with a smile--he
pointed to a dark, gloomy-looking opening at the base,--"and I'll
introduce you to one of our special favorites--'Le Grand Pere.'
Presently it will be paying some attention to the wireless over yonder."
"Goodness gracious!--there's concealment for you!" cried Don.
Cautiously the boy stepped down into the entrance, in a moment or two
finding himself face to face with the breech of a big gun. The weapon,
its muzzle projecting through another opening at the opposite end of
the mound, was well protected by a heavily-timbered roof covered with
earth. Even in the underground retreat the polished surfaces of the
steel monster caught and reflected every stray beam of light.
"'Le Grand Pere' has done his full share of service," declared the
French officer, when all were standing inside.
Then, to show how easily the piece of mechanism could be operated, he
raised, lowered and moved the muzzle from side to side by means of
little wheels.
"It seems almost like perfection," commented the aviator's son, as he
carefully examined the "elements," as the figures on the gun's-sighting
apparatus are called. "And yet I suppose experts are continually trying
to make improvements."
"Yes; science is insatiable in its efforts to advance," said Lieutenant
D'Arraing. "Here--look through this!"
He swung back the big breech-block, and Don, sighting through the long
tube, saw a circular spot of brilliant daylight at the other end.
"You will notice that the inside is rifled," continued the lieutenant.
"On the driving band of the projectiles are spiral grooves, which of
course exactly coincide with those in the gun, and that is what gives
the shell its rotation. Scientific calculations of the density of the
atmosphere and pressure of the wind, and the use of trigonometry to
find the range all combine to enable the gunners to fire with marvelous
accuracy."
"What is your chief work--trying to put the opposing batteries out of
commission?" queried Dunstan.
"By no means; though we should not miss an opportunity to do so. The
main objective of the artillery, however, is to support the troops,
to prepare the way for infantry charges and to prevent the enemy from
bringing up supplies and reserves--in fact, to harass them in every way
possible."
"This seems to be really a war of big guns," commented Don.
"Quite so!" assented the military man. He laughed. "Now, this is a
two-story house. Below, and to one side, is our rest and recreation
room. You may take a look if you wish."
The ambulanciers did wish, and a few moments later had clambered down
a ladder to a subterranean room many feet underground. Straw was
plentifully strewn about the floor, and several of the gun crew were
lounging about at their ease.
"A chap doesn't have to bother much about shells in here," said Don.
"No," replied the lieutenant. "As a foundation the roof has iron
girders and cement beams. Over these is about a foot of closely-packed
earth. Next in order come a number of heavy logs, then earth again.
And as a finishing touch there is a second series of logs and a layer
of cement, topped off with another generous supply of good old terra
firma."
"My, how safe I feel!" chirped Don.
"The life of an artilleryman is not so dangerous," admitted the
officer; "for the moment things begin to get a bit too hot they can
desert the gun pits, and in so doing are not obliged to cross any
open spaces. One dive into the tunnel, and the cannoneers are safe!
Passageways connect the various underground chambers, and telephones
are installed wherever necessary."
Just as the concluding words fell from the officer's lips a terrific
booming report made both of the ambulanciers give a perceptible start,
though the gun crew about them gave no indication of even having beard
it.
"A few high-explosives being dispatched without our compliments!"
remarked the lieutenant. "Come, mes Americaines, and you can see one of
the big guns in action."
One after another the three climbed nimbly up the ladder, and on
emerging into the open saw a cloud of smoke hovering in the still air
some twenty-five yards away.
"No wonder it made such an awful crack!" cried Don.
"Better stuff some of this in your ears," counseled Lieutenant
D'Arraing. He presented to each a wad of raw cotton. "The concussions
are pretty severe on ear-drums."
The Red Cross men thanked him and promptly followed his advice. In a
moment they came to a hedge, behind which a gun crew, with remarkable
precision and swiftness, was loading an enormous howitzer mounted on
tractor-wheels.
"It takes seven cannoneers and a corporal to fire this gun," explained
Lieutenant D'Arraing. "Each has a particular duty to perform, and
when the projectile is ready for its long journey, the corporal gives
the signal to fire, the lanyard is pulled, and what happens you will
presently witness with your own eyes. Give her all the room you can,
boys."
Don and Dunstan, highly interested, stepped back. It was a very
wonderful thing, the ambulanciers thought, to be actual eye-witnesses
of such a proceeding--indeed it made Don Hale almost feel as if he
himself was an actual participant in the greatest war history has ever
known. How many times had he heard the terrifying screech and scream of
approaching shells and the frightful concussion which brought them to
an end! And here was a projectile about to be launched off into space
toward some point which none of them could see, but where, undoubtedly,
were human beings who might be destroyed by its withering blast.
These reflections were abruptly terminated; for the corporal was
speaking at the 'phone.
"Yes; ready to fire," he said.
Then came an instant's pause.
"Now!" thought Don, instinctively placing his hands to his ears.
"Fire!" commanded the corporal.
[Illustration: "FIRE!" COMMANDED THE CORPORAL.]
The lanyard was pulled.
Instantly there followed a spurt of gleaming flame and a nerve-racking
report which made the earth tremble; and as the great gun recoiled from
the shock a thick cloud of smoke rolled upward and spread out among the
trees.
Although prepared for the concussion, Don Hale felt almost as though
his ear-drums had been burst by its terrific force.
But he almost forgot that an instant later, in his eagerness to watch
the crew at work, for the breech of the gun was open ready for another
projectile.
About sixteen seconds after the first shot had been fired another
left the muzzle, and then came a series, the terrific crashes and
reverberations following one another so fast that Don Hale found the
strain almost too severe to stand. He gave a sigh of relief when, after
fourteen high-explosive shells had been hurled into the enemy's line,
the red bursts of flame and clouds of smoke abruptly ceased, and the
destroying monster, after its last recoil, sank back motionless into
place.
"That means the demolition of a portion of a German front-line trench,"
exclaimed Lieutenant D'Arraing. "Ah! another weapon is taking up the
refrain."
Somewhere in the forest, not so very far away, the boom of a second big
gun was heard; and this kept steadily firing until fifteen more shells
had been sent toward the east, then a third went into action.
"Whew! It would take some time for a chap to get used to all that awful
racket," gasped Don.
"Will my head ever stop aching!" murmured Dunstan.
"Pretty hard, I know, when one is not accustomed to it," put in
Lieutenant D'Arraing, with a smile. "Now we shall have to look. When a
man hits another he is apt to get a blow in return."
"Well, we are in a good place," said Don, his eye on the mouth of an
opening leading to an abri.
The ambulanciers waited expectantly, and, sure enough, but a few
moments had elapsed when shells were crashing both to the right and
left of the battery, but fortunately far enough away to make a dash
into the cave unnecessary.
When the flurry was over the lieutenant remarked:
"Come along. I'll introduce you to Captain Langlois."
As the three followed a narrow lane through the woods the reports of
various guns of the battery echoed and reëchoed among the hills, the
staccato rattle and bang of the lighter field-pieces blending in with
the deep and solemn booming of the bigger guns.
They soon reached a battery of the former type, also so well concealed
from view by various devices that they might easily have passed by
without noting its presence.
"The eighteen pounders!" shouted Lieutenant D'Arraing in Don's ear.
"Each shell contains three hundred bullets. They can be fired with very
great rapidity."
The ambulancier did not need to be told this--the evidence was right
before him. Terrific crash after terrific crash, following a lurid
sheet of flame and a spurt of smoke, was coming from each field-piece;
and after every shot the empty shells were discharged and fresh
projectiles slipped into place.
"Did you ever see such wicked and vindictive-looking little chaps!"
exclaimed Don, yelling with all his might, so as to make himself heard
above the din. "They seem to be lashing out in perfect fury. Somewhere
somebody is being deluged with a hail of lead."
"And every crash we hear may mean a tragedy some miles off," shouted
Dunstan, gravely.
"The horse artillery is very useful," put in the lieutenant, using his
hands as a megaphone. "When the poilus 'go over the top' they are the
guns which thunder along the roads and fields, to give them support and
encouragement. They also help to prepare the way for infantry charges
by smashing to pieces the barbed-wire entanglements in front of the
trenches."
Conversation under the circumstances was a very difficult matter; so
the party hurried away, though wherever they went it seemed impossible
to get beyond the roar of the batteries.
In a large spacious dugout they found Captain Langlois, with a couple
of other officers, poring over a large map of the sector. He was a
middle-aged man whose black hair was plentifully sprinkled with gray.
He greeted the Americans pleasantly, though he appeared a little
dubious as to the advisability of allowing them to run the risk of
a journey to the observation post. A few diplomatic words from
Lieutenant D'Arraing, however, soon straightened out matters, and he
gave his consent.
"Kindly take seats, Messieurs," he said. "I shall be ready in a few
moments."
The dugout, besides being furnished with several chairs and a table,
had a number of bunks ranged around the walls. Then, of course,
military maps of various kinds and sizes were prominently in evidence
on all sides.
While they were waiting for the Captain, Don began to tell Lieutenant
D'Arraing about their interesting experience at the Château de
Morancourt. The artillery lieutenant listened attentively, from time to
time shaking his head in a puzzled fashion.
"Very mystifying, to say the least!" he exclaimed. "However, I've heard
some of the boys speak of the soldier you met. I believe he is on an
extended leave of absence and for some reason or other which no one
seems to understand makes his home at the café and restaurant, with a
cat as his sole companion."
"What!--actually living at the Cheval Noir!" cried Don. "And he never
said a word about it. How is that for something queer, Dunstan
Farrington?"
"It certainly is," admitted the art student. "He was so polite, too. I
wonder why he didn't give us an introduction to the cat."
"The poilus around here regard him as an odd sort of a chap,"
volunteered the artillery officer.
"By George, I'm beginning to scent another mystery!" declared Don. "And
I won't be satisfied until----"
"Messieurs, I am ready."
The voice of the captain, breaking in upon Don's words, caused them all
to rise to their feet.
Trooping behind the erect form of the veteran military man into the
bright glare of out-of-doors, Don Hale reflected, with a little chuckle
of delight, that it is not given to many to accompany artillery
officers on such an expedition.