THE SURPRISE ATTACK--PROMOTION
During the week that followed, the lads were confined almost entirely to
regular routine work, with nothing particularly exciting. Frank Hoskins'
elbow wound healed quickly, without any serious results; and Tom Rawle,
who had been under treatment at the field hospital, was able to get
about the camp, although still pale and weak, and limping considerably
from his injury.
But on the eighth day a veritable fury launched itself upon that section
of the American-French front, in the shape of seemingly endless brigades
of Boches that were hurled "over the top" of their own breastworks,
across No Man's Land, and upon the first-line trenches of the Allies.
For several days the American and French aviators had been reporting
heavy German formations in that region, evidently with the design of a
terrific assault, but the allied commanders had not expected it so
soon, and in truth they were not fully prepared for it.
It was a surprise attack in every sense of the word, with all the
terrible carnage that such a battle brings.
Shortly before midnight of the preceding night a terrible bombardment
had been directed against the American-French trenches, and their hidden
artillery to the rear of them. This was kept up for about seven hours,
and the duel of heavy guns shook the earth like a quake and was
deafening.
Then, just as dawn was breaking, the infantry onslaught, participated in
at some points by detachments of cavalry, began.
For three hours the Americans and the French fought stubbornly and with
every ounce of strength and determination. Whole regiments and even
brigades were wiped out on both sides, but the Boches, who had prepared
every detail of the assault for weeks, were readier than their opponents
and filled the gaps in their lines more quickly.
By noon it became apparent that the sacrifice of lives was becoming too
great to warrant the Allies trying to hold their first-line trenches
much longer, and that they must give them up, at least until they could
re-mobilize their forces for a counter-attack.
The order was therefore given for those in the rear, including food and
ammunition trains, field hospitals, etc., to fall back, in order to make
way for the strategic retreat of those on the front when the moment for
that retreat came.
Everything moved like clockwork, and with the greatest possible speed.
And throughout it all men on both sides were shooting, shouting,
shrieking, fighting, falling, while others, trapped in their dug-outs,
either surrendered or fought desperately on until they fell wounded or
lifeless before superior numbers.
Half a mile in the air, apparently over a point midway between what had
been the first-line trenches of the opposing armies, a stationary
balloon showed where Jerry and an observation officer were doing duty on
that fateful day. Jerry was operating a telephone that ran directly to
division headquarters, and hardly a moment passed when he was not
repeating some observation of the other man in the basket with him, or
relaying to him a query from the commander below.
Every detail of that tremendous battle Jerry knew. His own occasional
glimpses over the side informed him of the temporary reverses his own
army was suffering, while the remarks of the officer told him where the
Germans were meeting their bitterest repulses, where they were drawing
up their heaviest forces of reserves, what quick changes were being made
in their general line of formation, and how far back their forces seemed
to extend.
Slim Goodwin, busy as he was with the wireless at headquarters, found
time for occasional glances upward at that balloon, to make sure that
thus far his friend was still safe.
And even in the thick of machine-gun fire and shrapnel, where Lieutenant
Mackinson, Joe, Frank Hoskins and two or three others were laying a new
line of communication, the wavering, swaying target was watched from
time to time, and speculations made as to how long it could remain
without being punctured by a bullet, thus forcing its two occupants to
resort to their parachutes to make a landing.
It was now well into the afternoon. The Germans had swept into the
places vacated by the Americans and French, and still the battle raged.
It was now that Slim began to wait anxiously for the new development,
which his familiarity with the secret orders issued made him know was
coming.
And finally it did come, and in a way that staggered the Boches.
The Americans and French had retreated to a general line which permitted
a quick re-mobilization to the best advantage. There their front-line
ranks held firm, while the new formation was being effected behind them.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when this was complete.
Then, in concerted action, the lines opened at alternate points, and
pairs, dozens, scores of the huge armored tanks rolled through, their
big guns already blazing shells into the ranks of the disconcerted
enemy.
Nothing could halt them. They climbed trench parapets, descended into
gullies, came out upon level land, and over their whole path swept
destruction to the Germans.
Unable either to resist or to stop the progress of the tanks, which were
followed by whole divisions of infantry, the Boches were forced to
retreat and not only abandon every foot of the ground they had gained,
but to sacrifice a part of their own first line as well.
[Illustration: Scores of Huge Armored Tanks Rolled Through.]
It was one of the greatest and at the same time one of the most sudden
reprisals of the war up to that time, and the victory that had been
snatched from defeat was cheered by thousands of Americans and Frenchmen
as they again took possession of their own trenches, or pushed onward
across No Man's Land to occupy those which the Germans were now
abandoning.
The sun was setting, and soon, in great measure, at least, hostilities
would be suspended for the night.
Their work completed, Lieutenant Mackinson and his men were on their way
back to make their report when they met Slim, who had been relieved for
the night at headquarters.
"What time did Jerry come down?" Joe asked, after they had passed
remarks about the various thrills of the day.
"Don't know," Slim answered, "but I saw them there at four o'clock, and
they weren't there when I looked again, about half an hour later, so you
can judge pretty well for yourself."
"Guess he had a pretty good bird's-eye view of the whole thing," said
Joe, as they passed on, to meet again before mess.
Except for spasmodic outbursts here and there, the trench duel had
almost entirely subsided, and the heavy roar of the artillery also was
punctuated with longer pauses. Whatever the morrow might bring, the
night promised to be fairly quiet, while each side took account of stock
and made necessary repairs, or altered their plans to meet the new
situation.
Our young friends were busy with wash basin, soap and water, taking off
the grime in preparation for the evening meal and wondering where Jerry
was keeping himself all the while, when suddenly a very strange thing
happened beyond the enemy's line.
Lieutenant Mackinson was the first to discover it and call the attention
of the others.
A Taube, one of the smaller, lighter, and more easily handled
aeroplanes, and used in great numbers by the Germans, shot into the air
at great speed from behind the Boche entrenchments. In its upward course
its path was a dizzy spiral, and, if one on the ground might judge, its
pilot seemed to be seeking a particular air channel. At least that was
the way it looked.
Then, from almost the same point from which it had come into view, half
a dozen other planes rose into the air, following in the path of the
first, and also flying at top speed. Up to then there was nothing so
very strange about the whole procedure. It simply indicated that those
manning the American and French anti-aircraft guns, and the aviators of
those two armies, should get ready to repel an enemy air raid.
But the queer thing occurred when every one of the pursuing planes
opened up their machine-guns almost simultaneously upon the first. And
even this might have been considered a well-designed hoax, were it not
for the unmistakable evidence that the first aeroplane, the Taube, had
been hit.
Still going at maximum speed, and now on a straight line toward the
American side, without seeking a further height, the Taube several times
wavered, and, a moment later, almost turned over.
But the pilot righted her, and even as the pursuers began gaining, and
still kept up an incessant fire, he pointed her nose downward toward the
American lines.
Four American planes sailed off and upward to meet the oncoming German
air armada. But from the ground it could be seen that the man in the
observer's place in the Taube was making desperate signals.
The American planes maneuvered in such a way as to encircle the Taube,
and yet at close enough range to examine her without particular menace
to themselves. There were several seconds of criss-crossing and rising
and descending, and then as a unit the American planes left the Taube
and started after the German craft, which had hesitated, as though
uncertain what further course to follow.
Several volleys of shots were exchanged, and the other German planes
turned back toward their own lines. The Taube continued on its wavering,
crippled, downward course toward the allied lines.
"Looks as though a couple of our men had been reconnoitering the German
lines in one of their own make of machines," said Lieutenant Mackinson,
as the Taube came within a hundred yards of the ground and righted
herself for a landing.
There was a general rush toward it as it hit the ground. Of its own
momentum it rolled to within a two minutes' run of where the lieutenant
and the others had been standing. In another instant it was entirely
surrounded by a crowd of curious American soldiers.
But if they were surprised at seeing seated therein two men in the
uniforms of the United States army, their feelings hardly compared with
those of Lieutenant Mackinson, Joe, Slim and Frank Hoskins, as they
recognized, stepping out of the Taube, Jerry and the observation officer
with whom he had occupied the stationary balloon practically all of that
day.
"Who are you?" "What happened?" "Where have you been?" and a score of
similar questions were fired at them by the other soldiers as Jerry
shook hands with his friends, and the officer smilingly made away to
file his report.
"Well, to put it briefly," Jerry said, in answer to the general demands
for information, "we were anchored off there most of the day in an
observation balloon. Late in the afternoon a shell cut our cable, and
almost before we knew it we had been carried behind the German lines.
"The fight was still commanding the attention of almost everyone, and
after descending a little by permitting some of the gas to escape, we
jumped over the side of the basket and came down on our parachutes. I
landed in a deserted barnyard, and the officer hit the earth only a
short distance away.
"While we were hiding there, debating just what we should do, along
comes a Taube, and its pilot decides to make a landing almost at that
same place. Well, the officer being a pretty good pilot, we decided to
have that machine. We got it, and I guess that pilot's head aches yet
where I plumped him with the butt of my gun when he wasn't expecting
anything of the kind.
"But some other German aviators saw the affair, apparently recognized
our uniforms, and hardly gave us time to make a decent start.
"Say," Jerry concluded, "they certainly did pebble us with machine-gun
bullets! I saw two bounce off the propeller, and one broke a wire on the
left wing, making us flap around rather uncertainly for a few minutes.
It was a great race, though, and we considered our greatest danger lay
in landing on this side. We knew it would be recognized for a German
plane, and we were afraid we'd be fired on before we could make our
identity known."
Led by the lieutenant and Jerry, the party tramped back to where,
shortly, mess was to be served.
"That air certainly does give a fellow an appetite," said Jerry, as he
splashed more of the clear cold water over his face.
An orderly stepped up to Lieutenant Mackinson and handed him a large,
officially stamped envelope. As he tore it open and read the brief note
within, a pleased smile spread over his face. From the same envelope he
extracted three smaller ones. He handed one to each of the lads who had
accompanied him over on the _Everett_, according to the way they were
addressed.
Opening them, the boys could hardly suppress their jubilation. Stripped
of their official verbiage, the letters informed the young men that each
of them was made a corporal, Joe for valorous service in saving the
lives of "three Americans entombed in a cave; Slim for heroism and
presence of mind in saving and bringing back to the lines an American
soldier," and Jerry "for coolness and courage, and for the information
gathered behind the enemy's lines."