THE PRISONER’S STORY
Some three minutes later (so the boys thought), some one shook them
awake. It was morning.
“Six o’clock!” said their tormentor, prodding them viciously. It was
the driver of their car. “Say, did youse have my monkey wrench?” he
demanded of both boys.
“Sure!” said Porky quickly. “Here it is!” He handed out his wrench,
while Beany tried to pretend to sleep again. The chauffeur looked it
over.
“Naw, that ain’t me wrench,” he declared. “Same size and shape but
it ain’t me wrench!”
“Why not?” asked Porky. “One of us took your wrench last night, and
if this is the same size and shape, _why_ isn’t it the same wrench?”
“Because it ain’t,” said the man. “That ain’t got the same feel as
my wrench. You can’t wish off any strange wrench on this guy! I
gotta have me own wrench! If General Pershing is goin’ to let youse
kids go stealin’ wrenches, I’ll--I’ll--well, you’ll _see_ what I’ll
do, discipline ner no discipline!” He glared at the boys and at the
unoffending wrench.
Beany sadly allowed himself to wake up.
“I had your old wrench,” he said, “and I guess I lost it. I will buy
you a new one if I can’t find it.”
“You find it!” said the man. “I don’t want no new one! I know the
feel of me own tools, and no others need apply!”
He went off grumbling, and the boys, now wide awake, watched him.
“I told you how it would be,” groaned Beany. “He’ll never let up on
me. Wonder where I could have dropped it. In No-Man’s-Land probably,
where it would be as easy to find as a needle in a haystack, and
where we can’t go anyhow, now it’s light. Look there! Oh praise be,
I believe _he_ has found it himself!”
It was so. The man suddenly pounced on an object lying on the
ground, took it up, examined it with a tenderer care than would
usually be bestowed on a tool, and with a scornful look turned and
waved it at the watching boys. “Got it!” he called.
“Good!” said Beany affably.
“No thanks to you!” called the chauffeur. He stalked away.
“I would never let myself get so wrapped up in a little thing like
that,” said Beany. He threw himself back on his bed.
“Don’t do that,” said Porky. “We are going to the General’s tent at
seven, you know, to hear what the Fritz person is going to say for
himself. I bet he tells the truth anyhow. If the General fixes his
gimlet eye on him once, he will tell the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth.”
“I would in his place,” said Beany. “It wouldn’t seem just healthy
to lie to the General.” He commenced the simple process of dressing
as practiced by soldiers in the field. It consisted of very brief
bathing in a couple of teacups of water in a collapsible, and
usually collapsing washpan, made of canvas waterproofed, and after
that the simple drawing on of breeches, canvas puttees and shirt. A
soldier sleeps in his underwear, but sleeping in his outer garments
is very strictly forbidden, no matter how cold the weather may be.
The boys reached the General’s tent at ten minutes to seven, and
although they knew that the great man had been up for a couple of
hours, they sat quietly outside until their watches told off the
very tick of the expected hour. Then, just as they saw the guard
bringing up the prisoner, they tapped on the tent flap, and at a
word of summons entered.
The General, looking as though he had never stirred since the night
before, sat in his accustomed place at the head of the table, over
which a number of papers were strewn. He bade the boys good morning
and nodded them to seats. In another moment the prisoner entered.
For a few moments the General took no notice of the man, keeping his
eyes on his papers, while the fellow shifted uneasily from one foot
to the other.
Then General Pershing looked up.
“Prisoner,” he said, “it is not customary to accord a prisoner of
war the sort of interview I am about to give you, but the
circumstances alter this case. I want the truth, and the whole
truth.”
Porky and Beany nudged each other slyly.
“I want some of the information that it is in your power to give me,
and I want it straight. You know you are in my power. There is
always a firing squad for men like you. But I want you to unravel
this puzzle. I want you to commence when you left the ranch--yes,
even before that.”
The prisoner spoke eagerly. “I _will_ tell you the truth, sir. I am
glad to be here, no matter what you do to me. And I swear to tell
you the truth.” He held up his right hand, and the boys saw it
tremble. They commenced to believe him. It was evident that the
General did, for he nodded and the man plunged into his story.
It held the boys breathless.
“There were eight of us working for you, General, before America
went into this war. Eight men of German ancestry or birth. Most of
them were naturalized, but one night a man came to my house and
commanded me to meet him in a certain place. He was a German officer
and of course I was curious to know what he wanted. When I arrived
at the meeting place I found the others there. The officer, showing
credentials of his rank that we could not doubt, told us that we
were wanted as interpreters. Just that, General. He explained that
Germany was obliged to use all the men within her borders as
fighting men, and as they were most anxious to have no
misunderstanding with America, they were picking a German born, or
German bred man here and there as they could without rousing
suspicion. They were taking them from the farms rather than from the
cities. He said that several hundred would be needed. He assured us
that education was not necessary. It sounded very plausible,
General, and the salary we were promised was magnificent. We all
bit, General, and he took us away that very night in a couple of
automobiles.”
“The foreman told me,” said the General, “that you went away in the
middle of the busy season without giving warning.”
“Yes, we did, General. I am sorry, and I was sorry then, but the
pay--it was a _great_ temptation. We have been punished since. We
went down through Mexico and took ship. There were five hundred men
on board who were all going over to be ‘interpreters.’ And we never
guessed, poor fools, that ship after ship was bearing each a like
load. We never suspicioned the outcome. When we reached German soil,
we were scattered, two going one place, two another, and instead of
having any _interpreting_ to do, we were outfitted as soldiers and
attached to different regiments. Men kept coming day after day. I
dare not say how many thousands of Germans have been taken out of
the United States in this way. We were virtually prisoners. Of
course to the most of us it did not matter much. After all Germany
was our fatherland before America adopted us. As long as we were
fighting the French and English and the Russians, we did not care.
“But then, when we were already very tired, came the news that
President Wilson had declared war.
“General, it is not yet believed in Germany. All of them, the
highest officers, even the Emperor, on occasion, all have addressed
the troops and have explained that war was declared solely for
political purposes and that no troops were to be sent over sea.”
“They know now, do they not?” asked the General.
“Very few of them, General. They think that the English have adopted
the American uniform as a blind.”
“What did you think, Fritz?” asked the General.
“I saw them fight, and I knew,” said Fritz simply. “I know them; I
know how they fight. I told the others so. And when they came across
the plain I wanted to hurrah. I suppose I will be shot as a German
prisoner, but I could not help it. All my mistake was in the
beginning. I would have deserted if I could have done so. Why,
General, if those fellows over there behind the German lines knew
the truth, a third of them would walk right over here. They are lied
to again and again.”
“How is the army faring as regards food?” asked the General.
“There is not enough to feed a third of the men. All Germany is
dying slowly of substitutes. Substitutes for bread, for meat, for
tea, for sugar, for coffee, for milk. At first the army was fed
well, at the expense of the civilians. Now all suffer together, and
no man in the world works well or fights well on an empty and aching
stomach.” He groaned.
“What were you doing out there in that hillock?” asked the General.
“We were well behind the German lines a few days ago,” said Fritz,
“but whether they retired purposely or not, I cannot say. Since
then, however, we have been kept there to communicate with the
airplanes. It was possible to signal them by means of electric
flashes down on the floor of our hiding place, through the open trap
doors on top. Peter was in command. He took and sent the messages,
and repeatedly he crept out in the night. I was never allowed to do
anything, but if the Allies took the plain, and those ridges beyond
it, Peter said we would all go out in American uniforms and learn
what we could. We were expected to discover things too cleverly
hidden from the airplanes.”
“This is interesting at least, Fritz,” said the General. “It would
be still more interesting to know just how true it is that the
German army in general does not know that we are seriously in the
war. There are two millions of us here now, Fritz, and more coming.”
“Two millions!” echoed the astounded prisoner. “Two millions! When
they learn that, the war is over. But how will they ever learn it?
Your airplanes scattered leaflets along the front several times. Not
where I was stationed, but I heard the order that any man who saw
another stoop to pick up one of those leaflets, any man who was
caught reading one was to be shot dead by the nearest soldier, who
would receive the cross for doing it. I tell you, sir, they are
doing _every_thing they can to keep the army from learning that you
are in the fight.”
“I wonder how true all this is,” mused the General.
Porky and Beany watched him narrowly. They were sure he had some
plan, but it was clear that he wanted the prisoner to speak first.
“It is _all_ true,” said Fritz. “General, won’t you let me earn my
life, set me free for two hours--only that? And I will prove it to
you.”
“You will disappear just as you did from the ranch, I suppose,”
grated the General in a harsh voice. “Why should I give you any
chance?”
“I don’t deserve it,” said the prisoner, “except that if my plan
fails, I will certainly be shot by the Germans.”
“What do you propose?” asked the General.
“Two, perhaps three hours of freedom!” begged Fritz. “And if I can
reach the German lines alive, I will return with twenty prisoners to
prove to you that every man who is told that the Americans are here
and are promised that they will not be shot, will follow me across.”
“They are having a skirmish now,” said the General, listening, “and
a thunder storm is coming beside.” He was lost in thought. “Fritz,
make good!” he said. “I release you. You are but one man, no loss to
us, but you have told me a story of what amounts to kidnapping. I
would like to know if this is true. Just one thing. Prove it to me
by bringing twenty men back; but while you are there _set the word
free that the Americans have arrived_. Two millions, remember,
perhaps three.” He smiled. “And do not attempt to go or come until
nightfall. I will remain here until midnight to-night. You are under
guard until dark. You may go.” He rapped sharply on the table, the
guards entered and removed the prisoner.
The General began to smoke.
“What do you think, boys? Will he come back?”
“Yes, sir,” said both boys together.
“Why?” asked the General.
“Why, he was telling the truth!” said Porky.
“They don’t look like that other times,” said Beany. “He was
straight, all right.”
“He will have to prove it,” said the General grimly. “Men who leave
a job without warning, no matter what the needs of the situation, do
not fill me with confidence.”
“I guess he is sorry now, anyway,” said tender-hearted Beany.
“We will hope so,” said the General. “Porky, you may typewrite these
letters for me, and you, Beany, may check up these lists. If you can
do this properly, it will release a man for other duty.”
For two hours the two boys were too busy to know what went on in the
tent. When the task was done the General dismissed them with strict
orders that they were not to go more than thirty feet in any
direction from his tent.
When the Germans had occupied that side of the valley, they had also
used the hill as a temporary headquarters. Porky and Beany, like a
pair of very restless and inquisitive hounds, went over the ground
inch by inch. They could not help feeling that something good must
be waiting for them within their screen of trees. The fighting miles
away went on all day, and the time dragged for the boys until about
three in the afternoon.
And then Porky found it--a tiny piece of wire sticking out of the
ground under a root of the big tree under which they were sitting,
feeling like a couple of prisoners themselves. They had never been
on such close bounds before, and they didn’t like it.
Porky started to pull the wire, when Beany fell on him with a yell.
“A bomb!” he cried, flinging Porky on his back.
“My word! You have scared me to death anyhow,” said Porky.
Together they dug around the wire and followed it down and down
until they almost gave up. At last, however, they had their reward,
a square black tin box which they carried carefully to the General’s
tent.
Even then the greatest care was taken in opening it, for fear of an
infernal machine of some sort. It opened easily, however, and
without harm and disclosed a mass of papers. So many that the German
officer who had been in charge of them, fearing capture, had
evidently buried them, thinking that with the turn of battle he
could easily reclaim them from the earth.
Among the papers were several cypher keys, and one of them was found
to fit the papers found by Beany in the oak table in the dungeon at
the chateau back at headquarters.
Even the General was delighted, as a little study disclosed the most
important plans of the coming campaign and a scheme for the expected
drive, which now could be met point for point.
It was dusk before the General and his staff finished with an
examination of the papers, fitting the new keys to the papers
already in their possession.
Porky allowed himself to crow. “Guess we are sort of little old
Handy-to-have-around!” he chortled. “Guess we get to go all the way
with _this_ distinguished mob!”
“Looks so,” said Beany, “but you never can tell.”
_And they couldn’t._