THE WINNING OF THE ARGONNE
DAYS passed and each setting sun saw the Yankee boys in khaki further
along the terrible trail they had set out to follow to the end. Another
mile, perhaps two, of the dense Argonne Forest had been redeemed, and
the stubborn foe sent reeling backward.
The end was in sight, many believed. Once they passed out of the vast
stretch of woods, the pace of the retreating enemy must be accelerated,
though of course he would take advantage of every ravine, abandoned farm
building, destroyed hamlet and village that offered sites for
machine-guns, on which Hindenburg was coming to rely more than on his
Big Berthas.
They made the Yankee pay the price for it all, even though the famous
Kriemhild-Stellung line was broken in the end. In addition to the heavy
blanketing of woods, hills and ravines intersected the forest at
intervals. These very often were knee deep in mud, through which the
fighters from overseas had to wade as they pushed steadily on.
Then there were barbed wire defenses, sometimes twenty feet in height,
with the hills and surrounding country villages fortified with acres of
rapid-fire guns, often in vast nests, and requiring the work of
batteries to blast them out of the path.
During all these days they had charged through villages, fought through
morasses, forded swollen streams, bayoneted machine gunners at their
posts, and used their rifles as clubs when they came to grips with the
foe in the wire entanglements.
Hunger and thirst joined hands with the enemy. Gas attack followed
charge, and charge succeeded gas attack. From overhead Boche planes
rained bombs down upon them. Comrades fell on every hand, and the cries
of the wounded rose above the shrieking of shrapnel and shell.
And day after day the young air-service boys rendered their full duty to
the cause they stood for. Filled with the ardor that spurs patriots on
to do astonishing feats they never shirked when the order came that sent
them again and again into the air to measure wits with the Boche fliers.
Hardly a day but what there was a vacancy in the ranks of those gallant
airmen who were so willingly giving their service in answer to their
country's call. More than a few had been sent to the hospital from which
they would only emerge, it might be, cripples for life, but doubtless
thankful to have escaped even a sadder fate.
Tom and Jack, as well as Harry Leroy, had had their close calls, but
somehow it seemed as though they were watched over by a kind Providence,
for so far none of them had met with a serious mishap.
There were compensations, too; for after a hard day's work in the air
how pleasant it was for Jack to lounge in the temporary field hut of the
Red Triangle and watch Bessie's nimble fingers handing out hot coffee,
sandwiches, or any of the hundred-and-one things which those industrious
workers managed to have in store for the wearers of Uncle Sam's khaki,
so as to make them feel that here was indeed a touch of home life,
though far removed from the actual thing.
And then perhaps from time to time, when Bessie was relieved by some
other worker, how delightful it was to find a chance to sit with her,
sipping tea, and chatting.
Of course Jack had long ago confided to her all that had happened to him
and to Tom and Harry since last they had met in Paris. If he was over
modest in his descriptions, especially when speaking of his personal
doings, why, Bessie had imagination, and could easily color the
narrative to suit her own ideas of what was fit and proper.
This sort of thing could not keep up indefinitely, of course.
The losses which the American army was sustaining were very severe, for
they never allowed themselves to be balked of their object. If they
found after trying that it was impossible to secure what they were after
one way, they turned around and went at it from a second, perhaps even a
third angle, but what in the end they gained their objective.
But it was known that they had now arrived close to the northern edge of
that vast wooded tract. For twenty-three days they had battled
continuously and pushed their lines forward in a way that must have been
peculiarly discouraging to Hindenburg.
His generals, who knew the ground best, had assured the Hun commander
that no army on earth could ever force the Argonne Forest, defended as
it was by every possible contrivance ever invented by a cunning Boche
brain. Yet here in October those persistent Yankees were on the point of
emerging from the bloody shambles, and ready to continue the drive to
the banks of the Rhine, if need be.
It was on one of those never-to-be-forgotten October nights that Jack
entered the tent that was being used as the temporary rest house for
the Y. M. C. A. workers, with a hastily dug hole adjoining where the
girls could seek shelter in case the Boche became troublesome with his
shells or bombs. He motioned to Tom whom he found chatting with Bessie.
The place was crowded as usual. Some of the doughboys had taken
possession of the battered old piano, moved up each day as though it
were their choicest possession, as indeed it really was. They sang their
favorite songs over and over again, and seemed to enjoy every minute of
the time.
It was no easy thing to make oneself heard with so much noise going on;
but Tom obeyed the signal of his chum, under the conviction that Jack
must have something of more or less importance which he wished to
communicate.
"What's in the wind this time, Jack?" he asked lightly, when he found
himself alongside the other. "Any more spies trying to blow up our
hangars?"
"Forget all that now. I want to speak to you about Helene, Tom."
"Oh, yes! We've almost forgotten all about Helene these days, what with
our many duties in the field and the air. What's new concerning little
Jeanne's sister, Jack?"
"Well, I haven't been neglecting the job I undertook, all the same,"
came the steady answer. "Never a batch of Boche prisoners is put behind
the barbed-wire enclosure but what I find a chance to look 'em over and
air my limited German vocabulary."
"Trying to find out if there are any Lorrainers in the bunch--is that
what you mean?"
"It is," the other told him, smiling at the accurate guess made by Tom.
"I suppose," continued Tom, "you've run across quite a few of them, and
some Alsatians in the bargain; for the Prussian war-lords saw to it that
few, if any, escaped the draft."
"Oh, I picked out dozens of men who claimed they had homes in Lorraine,
and every mother's son of them was fighting in the Hun army because of
compulsion. A lot of them lied, of course, because their names told that
they came of German stock, their people having settled there after the
war of Seventy-one had given the country to Germany."
"And at last ran across the one you most wanted to meet, did you?"
"I did come on a chap who admitted his home was just on the other side
of the border, and who knew all about General von Berthold. Yes, and the
Anstey family as well. From him I learned that Gerald Anstey was the
name of Jeanne's and Helena's father. He was English, of course, and
married into that Lorraine family."
"Dead, I suppose?" asked Tom.
"It has been believed so for four years now," replied Jack. "Anstey
tried to leave the country in order to join the British regiment to
which he belonged, but was followed by the Guards, and they say shot
down like a dog. Anyway he's never been heard from in all these years."
"And is the general really the man who took Helene away?" Tom demanded.
"No question about it. This man told me he was connected with the family
Mrs. Anstey sprang from. Better still, Tom, this same Lorrainer was at
the old chateau just a few days ago, sent there on duty because of his
being from the same section of country as von Berthold, he says. And,
Tom, he saw Helene!"
"You're getting closer and closer all the time, Jack, let me tell you.
If you didn't give him a clue to make him say that, it's very
important."
"Oh, I was careful not to let him know why I was interested in von
Berthold. When he happened to say he had seen a child there that he
could remember having noticed at the Anstey home of course I pumped him,
and led him along until he declared that he felt certain it was either
Jeanne or Helene."
"I'm glad that point is settled," Tom admitted. "After this we can know
what ground we stand on, if ever we find a chance to make a call as
uninvited guests on General von Berthold."
"Speed the day!" said Jack. "The sooner it comes the better I'll be
pleased. Nellie told me that she hears from Jeanne every few days, for
the ambulances pass the door of the little half-demolished house where
she has found a temporary home before going to Paris; and the drivers
carry notes for Nellie, stopping for answers on the return trip."
"I can easily understand that!" Tom exclaimed eagerly, unconsciously
giving himself away. "For who could resist Nellie's sweet smile?
Certainly no warm-hearted Yankee ambulance driver with a girl back home
who is often in his thoughts. Some fellows would wade through fire and
water for a smile from Nellie."
"That's right, too, Tom," admitted Jack promptly. "And they'd feel well
repaid for doing it too. I know one who doesn't hesitate to say so. But
see here, I'm going to propose something to you, old fellow."
"I can give a pretty shrewd guess what it is. You carry your secrets in
your face, Jack. Nothing of the cunning conspirator about you, for a
fact. You're going to suggest that we plan some sort of a campaign, by
means of which we can pay a flying visit to this old chateau and
surprise the famous general, perhaps relieve him of the voluntary charge
he's taken on his shoulders by carrying Helene away with us."
"You hit the bull's-eye the first shot, Tom. That is just what I had in
mind. Please don't try to throw cold water on my hopes by saying it
can't be done."
"Make your mind easy on that score, Jack. I'm just as eager as you can
be to drop in on the general and bring Helene back to her twin sister."
"I'm right glad to hear you say that. Fact is, I ought to be ashamed to
suspect for a single second that you'd decline to back me up. Now the
only question that's left is to set the time."
"That may have to be settled by circumstances just now beyond our
control," Tom told him, very seriously.
Jack seeing him look around so carefully sensed something of importance.
"See here, what ails you, Tom? You've got something held back, I just
know. Is that fair to me, your old chum? I've been told there was an
extra big event in the air, but no one seemed able to get a line on it.
Those who did know kept it a dead secret. Are you one of them? And won't
you put me wise, Tom?"
"I've kept it a secret for two days, until I'm ready to burst," admitted
Tom, with a sigh of relief. "Just a bit ago I received permission to
mention it to you, as the observer who was to accompany me is out of the
running, and they gave me my choice of another. Of course I took you,
Jack."
"It's well you did, because I'd never have forgiven you if you'd gone
back on your old pal," Jack replied, nodding his head. "Now tell me what
it's all about. Are we going to blast the Kaiser out of his throne?"
"It amounts to about that, I'd say, Jack. Listen. The High Command have
laid out a scheme to knock the last prop out from under Fritz. There's a
certain stronghold they're banking on as a bulwark of safety in case we
do succeed in breaking through here. Get that, Jack?"
"Yes, spin away, Tom."
"All right. Well, they've been getting all kinds of secret information
about this particular spot, and it's on the map to knock it sky-high!"
"Bomb it, you mean, of course?"
"We've got a new kind of bomb, it seems, said to be three times as
powerful in its effects as the best the Huns handle. Our leaders are
anxious that it should be tried out against this stronghold that the
Boche seems to think is going to hold Pershing's boys up for ever so
long."
"Great stunt! And say, I'm mighty glad you got a chance to pull me into
the game, Tom. Never forget it, I tell you."
"Don't mention it, Jack. I'll be three times as happy with you beside
me, than if I had to have another alongside. But that isn't quite all,
boy."
"What, even more coming?" gasped the delighted Jack.
"It seems that rumors have reached us that Ludendorff has his present
headquarters in a chateau among the hills that can be easily reached by
the bombing plane squadron on their way to the main objective. Yes, and
would you believe it, they even suspect that the Old Fox of the Hills,
Von Hindenburg himself, is there right now, in consultation with his
chief general. Think of a double killing, Jack, will you?"
Jack went through a pantomime that indicated his abounding joy over the
prospect of cutting off the responsible heads of the enemy at a single
blow.
"This sounds good to me," he said. "And now, Tom, what has it all to do
with the prospect of our paying that visit to Jeanne's uncle, and
forcing him to give up little Helene? Tell me that!"