A DIFFICULT TRIP TO THE MAIN TRENCHES
The great camp at which the boys were located was south of Albert, a
town of about 7,000 inhabitants, at the opening of the war. It was less
than ten miles west of the first line trenches at that time. About
fifteen miles northeast was Bapaume, and southeast of Albert, the same
direction, was Peronne, towns of 3,000 and 5,000 respectively, both
within the German lines, and important distributing centers for the
armies in that region.
"I do not know how true it is, but the information I have is that the
immense preparation going on here, and farther to the north, means a
drive on Bapaume and Peronne. If such is the case we may expect lively
times during the next three months," said the lieutenant, as they were
conversing about the probabilities of taking part.
"What branch of the service were you in?" asked Ralph.
"The artillery; that is the most important by all means, especially in
this war," was the answer.
"How is it that you are not attached?" asked Alfred.
"Immediately after the Boer war I resigned, went to America, and
engaged in business there. As soon as I could do so I disposed of my
interests and came back two months ago. I was sent to this point two
weeks ago, where, undoubtedly, I will be called upon to take a part,"
was the lieutenant's reply.
That evening in their rooms, Ralph remarked: "I think we ought to stick
pretty close to the lieutenant; there might be a chance for us there."
"But suppose the colonel fixes it for us?" said Alfred.
"Then we'll go," answered Ralph.
"While we are waiting, suppose we make a trip to the trenches,"
suggested Ralph.
"When? Tomorrow?" asked Alfred.
"Why not?" replied Ralph.
"Suppose we start early in the morning, as soon as we have breakfast,"
suggested Alfred.
As they walked across the ground, preparatory to the start, in the
morning they were accosted by the captain. "Which way?" he asked.
"Going to take a look at the boys in the trenches," said Alfred.
"I can give you a lift," replied the captain. "Go over to the station
and ask for Lieutenant Moore; tell him who you are and that I requested
him to give you a place on the goods train.
"That was a happy thought," said Alfred, after they had thanked the
captain. "It's good to have friends," he added.
At the station they were disappointed to learn that the lieutenant was
at the other end of the line. "Where is his assistant?" asked Alfred.
"That's the man over there," said their informant, pointing to a
nervous officer on the platform.
"Sorry I can't accommodate you in the absence of the lieutenant," was
his discouraging reply to their inquiries.
"Well, shall we walk it?" said Ralph.
"Not as long as the railroad is here; I have gotten out of the idea
of walking since the captain made the suggestion," said Alfred, as he
looked about.
"That looks as though it might go the right way," said Ralph, as he
pointed to a long train and noticed a squad of men closing the doors.
While walking across they saw an engine backed up and coupled on the
coaches.
"This is our chance," said Ralph.
The conductor gave the signal and slowly the train began to move. Ralph
sprang up on the running board, and, calling to Alfred, said: "Just in
time!"
"Ay, there! where's your permit?" shouted a voice.
"Permit?" said Ralph. "Permit to get to the front? Well, that's news to
me. Did you ever hear anything like that?" he continued.
The latter laughed at the audacity of the remark, but the conductor
assumed that it was a species of assurance on the part of the boys, and
it caused him to hesitate.
The boys, meanwhile, boldly crept up the ladder and landed on top,
where they quietly sat down, with their legs dangling over the side.
After the train had gone a mile or so the conductor mounted the last
coach and walked forward.
"Hi 'ave me orders to allow no one without a permit," he said.
"Well, you ask Lieutenant Moore whether we can ride or not," said
Alfred.
"Hey, but it must be in writing," he answered.
"Yes; we know that; we will get the written permit as soon as we get to
the other end of the line where the lieutenant is," said Ralph, with an
assuring nod.
"Blime me if this isn't irregular," he said.
"Yes, it may be," answered Alfred. "It isn't exactly regular to ride on
top, but we haven't been invited to have a seat in the caboose," said
Ralph.
"Caboose! caboose! did you say? Hi never heard of it," replied the
conductor.
"Never heard of a caboose?" said Alfred. "That's queer; I thought all
railroad men knew what that meant."
"Why, he's never been in America. They don't have cabooses in England.
You ought to know that," said Ralph.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Conductor, over in the United States all our freight
trains have cabooses on the rear end for the use of the train hands,"
said Alfred.
"Freight trains! My word, you confuse me. And what do you mean by train
hands?" he asked.
"Well, this is a freight train, and your men are train hands," said
Ralph.
"Ah! you mean _goods_ train and train _crews_," said the man.
The boys laughed heartily, as this was really the first opportunity
they had for a lark since they reached France.
The laughter seemed to infect the conductor. Two of the train crew came
forward, and finally joined in the conversation, and the matter of the
permit was entirely forgotten. The conductor turned out to be really
human after all. What interested him was the information that the boys
were Americans, and when Ralph told them that they were aviators and
had been in a fight above the clouds, they fairly owned the train, and
everybody in it.
In due time they reached what is known as Siding 8, one of the regular
stations on the way. It was a military road, passage on the trains
being permitted only by means of written orders. The boys knew this,
of course, but they had had months of experience in traveling over
roads of this character, and knew the value of bluff and of assuming
situations which would be hard to controvert. At any rate they were now
sure of reaching the end of the journey without molestation.
They felt sure of this until the train stopped at Siding 8. A pompous
individual approached the group.
"That is the inspector," said one of the men in an aside to Ralph.
"I am afraid it's all up with us," said Alfred.
As he neared the group the boys both gave the regulation salute, which
was recognized by the officer.
"Where are you bound for?" he asked.
"To the front," said Alfred.
"What front? Where?" he persisted.
"Anywhere; so we get there," said Ralph.
"Where are your permits?" he asked.
"We haven't any," said Alfred.
"Then how did you get here on this train?" he asked sternly, glancing
at the conductor, who was now squirming.
"We rode on top most of the way," said Ralph.
"Who gave you permission to do so?" he fired at them.
"No one; we didn't need any permission; we simply got on and here we
are," said Alfred.
There was a faint snicker in their rear. The officer colored up.
"I will make a report of this," said the officer, glancing at the
conductor, and drawing out a book he proceeded to write down the name
of the conductor and the number of the train.
"What are your names?" he asked, turning to the boys.
"Now, see here, Lieutenant, you are doing your duty; we know that,"
said Ralph. "We're just plain American boys with a little deviltry in
us sometimes, and the conductor isn't to blame. We have just come out
of the hospital after a pretty hot time in the artillery service, and
Captain Rose at the camp told us to tell Lieutenant Moore that we
wanted transportation. At the station we found he was at this end of
the line, so we took this means to get the permit from him."
"In the service, eh? Where?" he snapped.
"At Verdun and at St. Quentin," answered Alfred.
The answer seemed to soften him. "I am sorry," he continued in a
different tone, "but I cannot allow you to go on without a permit." The
boys stepped off the car.
"I would suggest a good way out of the trouble," said Ralph.
"Very well!" he answered.
"Suppose you issue us a permit; that will get us there without further
trouble," said Ralph.
"I have no authority to issue permits," he replied.
"Well, then," said Alfred, "suppose you did have the authority to issue
them would you give us permission to go on in that case?"
"Most assuredly," was the reply.
The second section of the train was approaching and the Inspector
hurried back. The signal was given and the train commenced to move.
"Jump in!" said Ralph.
"Just what I was going to do," replied Alfred. "He didn't fill up
his blank to make the report. You are all right," continued Alfred,
addressing the conductor.
The latter smiled at the neat manner in which the boys had handled the
situation, and the train crew had a good laugh at the expense of the
inspector.
Siding 8 was just two miles from the trenches,—that is, from the
active zone. All along this section were ditches, like vast drains,
which were once occupied by the Germans. Cannon were constantly
booming, but so common had such noises become that they ceased to
attract the notice of the boys. Soon the great lines of tents and
temporary barracks were visible. The most intense activity prevailed in
every quarter.
The boys left the train as soon as it reached its destination, having
in their minds one thing only and that was to get to the front
trenches, and, if possible, get in touch with the batteries. They were
aware that it was a difficult matter to obtain permission for either of
those purposes, but they relied more on the conditions under which they
might find themselves, to obtain their ends.
Leading from the station was a road which entered a village. One of the
trenches not then occupied, but which had been made by the Germans,
extended alongside this road directly through the little hamlet.
Several stores were in operation, and at one of them were noticed a
half dozen civilians, all discussing means to get a glimpse of the
operations near the front.
"It is no use," said one of them. "They will not grant any permits to
go nearer, and I understand that the reason is they are preparing to
cut their way through to Bapaume."
"That fellow's an American, I'll bet on that."
"Talks like it, anyway," responded Alfred.
"We may have a chance to help in another artillery battle, if what he
says is so," observed Ralph. "Hello! what's this?" continued Ralph, as
a black and white terrier approached, wagging its tail. Ralph patted it
and looked around expecting to find its owner.
"Come on," said Alfred. "We aren't getting anywhere at this rate. We
might go through the village and inquire."
The terrier followed, every moment or two friskily coming up close
and looking up at them wistfully. They discouraged him by paying no
attention to his show of friendliness.
"It looks as though he had adopted us," said Alfred. "Come here,
Frisky; do we suit you?"
"I feel mighty hungry; there's a stall. We might get a bite, and we'll
get some information at the same time," said Ralph.
They entered the apology called a restaurant, and ordered coffee with
rolls and butter. Cold meat was the only other thing available.
"Let's have some of that," said Alfred.
"Where are the nearest front line trenches?" asked Ralph.
"About a mile to the east," said the waiter. "You'll have trouble
getting there, since the new orders went into effect."
"What new orders?" asked Alfred.
"To permit no passes," he replied.
"I don't think we need any passes," said Ralph in an undertone.
"Do you belong to the army?" asked the waiter.
"No; but we expect to," answered Ralph.
The meal finished they were about to go, but Frisky danced about them.
"Poor fellow! we forgot him," said Alfred, giving the dog some scraps,
which he speedily devoured. That meal sealed a bond of friendship, on
the part of the dog, at least, and as they marched out the road to the
east Frisky followed, dancing about them continually, and exhibiting
his pleasure, dog-fashion, in his newly found friends.
"Is that a guard line ahead?" observed Ralph, as they approached a
shed-like structure, and saw a group of soldiers with guns standing
near.
"I suppose it is," replied Alfred. "Here is where we make a halt, I
suppose."
Alfred was right. No one dared cross the line which extended north
and south of the structure. It was the dead line, and there was no
hope for them, so as there was no use to argue the matter they sadly
turned back, retraced their steps through the village and without any
prearrangement turned to the right.
"We might see something from that hill," said Ralph.
"That is just what was in my mind," remarked Alfred.
The narrow road was observed winding around the hill and going up
diagonally. Half way to the hill, and at a point where there was a
perceptible ascent, Frisky ran forward, barking furiously. He stopped
at the remains of a ragged fence, beyond which was soon observed the
ruins of a low building.
"I suppose that is one of the cottages destroyed by the fighting," said
Ralph.
"Frisky is acting queerly," remarked Alfred. "Let us go over." The
animal would run around the ruin, then come back, look up at them, and
actually seem to want to talk.
"I suppose that is an invitation to follow him," said Ralph.
As the boys passed over the fence Frisky showed his pleasure by
emitting a series of short, sharp barks, which he kept up continually,
running around as though in the greatest excitement.
"I wonder what he does that for?" said Alfred. "Come here, Frisky,
poor fellow!" said Ralph, as he stooped and fondled the little fellow.
Frisky nestled up close and gave a peculiar whine.
"I believe that was his home," said Alfred, "and this is his way of
telling it. I would like to know what became of the people who lived
here."
"Come on, Frisky; we'll take care of you," said Ralph, with a hug.
As they passed out of the enclosure Frisky followed, apparently cured
of his singular actions. Half way up the hill they met a tottering old
man, carrying a bundle of faggots.
"Do you know anything about the people who lived in that ruined
cottage?" said Ralph.
The old man shook his head.
"He doesn't understand English," said Alfred, who put the question in
French.
He looked at the dog and replied: "The cottage was struck by the first
shell that the Germans fired from yonder hill when they came through
here on their way to Paris. The house was torn to pieces and all were
killed."
Ralph pointed to the dog. The old man nodded. "He goes up there every
day; they can't keep him away. The soldiers have stolen him many times,
but he always comes back."
The boys looked at each other in silence. "Come here, Frisky!" finally
said Alfred, as he held out his hand. He leaped toward the boys, and
put up his paws on each of them in turn, while the old man turned sadly
away and shambled down the hill.