TURNING THE TABLES
Evans and Turner, who were making a circumambulating inspection of the
prison quarters while Phil engaged in desperate combat with a boche
soldier in a dark pocket of the earth, led the way to another sentry
post on the east side of the large building and there found a second
guard decidedly under the influence of liquor. He was seated on a low
concrete fence that marked the dividing line between yard and the
cul-de-sac, or little used stub of a street, that ran up to the edge of
the thicket which covered the hill adjoining the big sandpit.
The guard was no longer a guard. His gun was lying on the ground and his
head hung almost between his knees. He was snoring.
“No need o’ disturbing him,” said Evans, as he picked up the rifle and
handed it to Phil. “He’s dreamin’ about the iron cross the kaiser’s
about to bestow on him for faithful service.”
They passed on to the next post, but there found a more lively minion of
the Prussian War Lord. He was evidently “under the influence,” but not
so much so that he was unable to spring to his feet in alarm as he heard
footsteps near him. The next instant he was looking into the muzzles of
three rifles and three very determined faces which must have resembled,
in his startled imagination, the weapons and merciless countenances of a
trio of highwaymen.
“You keep him right where he is,” said Evans, addressing Tim, while the
latter took charge of the fellow’s gun and cartridge belt.
Tim did as directed and his companions continued their rounds. They
found one more guard dead drunk and still another in a condition similar
to that of Tim’s prisoner. They took possession of their guns and then
returned with another staggering prisoner to the place where the young
corporal stood guard over Semi-Drunk Number 1. The two captives were
also relieved of their cartridge belts.
“Now where are the rest of the guards?” Phil inquired.
“They’re lodged snugly in that hotel down on the corner a block over
there,” replied Tim, indicating the direction with his hand. “And
they’ve got some comfortable quarters, too, believe me. That hotel was
hardly scratched when the bodies drove through this place. Everything
was left, apparently, in the best of order by the fleeing French, and
our prison guards are living like kings there. They’ve found a big store
of wine in the basement and tapped several casks.”
“What’s their condition now?” asked Phil.
“About the same as these fellows out here. Tim and I looked in through a
window and saw them.”
“Where are their guns?”
“Standing up in a corner right near the door,” said Tim. “We can open
the door, seize the weapons and have ’em at our mercy.”
“How about the other prisoners?”
“They’re all in this building, according to my notion,” said Evans. “My
guess is that they planned to put us all in there, but it got too full,
and, our bunch being the overflow, they put us in the first place
available.”
“Let’s go and get several of those fellows to help us,” Phil proposed.
“We may not need them, but it isn’t going to do any harm to play safe.
You boys wait here while I go and announce what we’ve done and bring
some ‘moral reinforcements.’”
“Go ahead,” Evans assented. “Bring ’em all, if you want to. The more
that come, the greater will be the moral effect, even if they haven’t
any guns. But tell ’em to be mighty quiet.”
Phil hastened to the entrance of the building, which opened onto a small
pillared portico at the head of half a dozen steps. There was a stout
bar across the door holding it firmly in place, and this he lifted away
and found that there was no further obstacle to his entering.
It was so dark inside that he could not, at first, see his hand before
him. So he closed the door and called out:
“Hello.”
A few moments’ silence followed this greeting; then an echoing response
came from a point several feet away:
“Hello.”
“We’ve made prisoners of all the guards around this building and the
others are all dead drunk waiting for us to walk in and take their
guns,” Phil announced. “There’s a plot on foot to wipe us all out
tomorrow by dropping bombs on us from an aeroplane. Some of us overheard
the plot. Three of us have handled the job thus far, but we want to play
safe. So if a dozen of you fellows will come along we’ll soon make it
impossible for those villains to carry out their dastardly plot.”
As this speech was delivered in English, it was not understood by the
French prisoners, and only Americans responded to the call. But before
they filed out through the entrance, Phil addressed to the other
Americans a request that they remain quietly in the building until
notified that the coast was clear, and delegated to several of his
compatriots who could speak French the task of explaining the situation
to their companion poilus in prison.
Outside, three men were left in charge of the two boche prisoners who
had not yielded quite all their senses to intoxication. Then the rest of
the party proceeded to the inn where the “bunch of off-duty convivials”
seemed to have transferred their interest in the outcome of the war into
several casks of “concentrated thirst.” They were lying in all attitudes
and aspects of alcoholic abandon. Evidently the last man who had taken a
drink was so lost to everything but his last swallow that, after filling
the tin cup which all appeared to have used for tipping the fiery liquid
into their stomachs, left the cock open and the rest of the liquid in
the cask ran out over the floor.
After the soldiers’ guns had been secured and passed around among the
men, Evans, who was possessed of a rather ghastly sense of humor,
remarked:
“Fellows, I’ve got a scheme for putting these beastly boches into a
state of mind and body that will render them harmless so far as we are
concerned for a day of two. They’ve drunk all they can pour into
themselves; I propose to finish the job by waking them up and filling
them full to the guards.”
“But we won’t have time for that,” Phil objected. “We ought to be
getting away from here as quickly as possible. It’ll be daylight before
very long.”
“We’ll settle that question in a jiffy,” said Evans, lifting a
wristwatch of one of the drunken soldiers toward the candle light
nearest him. Two of half a dozen candles, which had lighted the latter
portion of the thirst orgies, were still burning when the escaping Yanks
entered the place.
“It’s only two-fifteen,” Evans continued. “We’ve got time enough at
least to make sure that these besotted fools have done a good job of
this thing. I insist that we make of this affair the best argument for
prohibition in the world. You know prohibition is about the biggest war
issue at home today. Why, do you know, when they get wind of this story
at home, there’ll be a constant demand for us as Chautauqua speakers
until the demon Rum has been put where we’re going to put the kaiser.”