NEWS FROM THE AIR
Now don't get all worked up with hope," went on Jimmy, as his chums
gathered about him. "While I have news from poor old Schnitz, it isn't
exactly good news."
"Is it bad?" demanded Bob.
"Is he deaded alretty yet?" came from Iggy.
"No. And I'm glad I can say that much," replied Jimmy. "He isn't dead,
but he's in a German prison. You know we've sort of hoped that ever
since he was missing. Rather have him there than dead or badly wounded,
you know."
"Who told you he was in a prison camp?" asked Roger.
"One of the wounded boys in the hospital. You know I went to see
Boswick, who used to be our top sergeant. Well, next to him was a
fellow who was hurt on the head and who's been out of his mind since
then. Day before yesterday he got his senses back again, and to-day he
was quite a lot improved. He heard me telling Boswick that Franz was
missing, and this fellow, whose name is Waydell, told me about Franz.
"It seems he was not very far away from old Schnitz when the thing
happened. He saw Schnitz take some German prisoners from a machine
gun nest and start to march them to the rear. Then this fellow saw
our friend, who must have been tickled to death with his feat--He saw
Schnitz run into a bunch of Huns. They took Schnitz's prisoners away
from him, though he did some damage before they had things their own
way. And then they just naturally copped Schnitz and hustled him off."
"Well, why in the world didn't this Waydell help Schnitz out?" demanded
Bob.
"He had the wound that put him out of business and later sent him
to dreamland for a long time. But I'm glad he came to. It gives us
definite information about Franz, and that's what we want."
"We want him back, too!" exclaimed Roger.
"Oh, of course," agreed Jimmy. "But it's something to know where he is."
"We don't--that is, we don't know exactly," remarked Bob.
"No, only that he's in some German camp. But there's always a chance
that he may get out," went on Jimmy. "We'll hope for that."
Iggy gave a heavy sigh.
"What's the matter?" asked Roger.
"I so sorry am for Franz," was the answer. "Besser as I was a prisoner
myself than him."
"Why?" Jimmy queried.
"'Cause he iss of a Germans like. Hims name is Germans, and once
anudder time, when he wass a prison camp in good treatment he got not."
"I should say he didn't!" declared Roger.
"Well, den I am 'fraid like he will of the same treatment gets now,"
proceeded Iggy. "Maybe he will not of stand it."
There was silence for a moment, and then Jimmy said softly:
"Well, we can only hope for the best."
The four Khaki Boys discussed over again the news Jimmy had brought
from the hospital. Gloomy as it was in itself, it was more cheering
than no news at all, and for many days they had had none to indicate
what might have been the fate of their missing chum.
"We may be able to find out what prison camp he's in," suggested Roger.
"What good would that do?" questioned Bob.
"Well, we might raid it and set him free, as well as any other poor
boys of ours and the Allies that are held there."
"Fat chance!" murmured Jimmy.
"It could be done with aeroplanes, if we could get enough," declared
Roger. "The next time I see the Twinkle Twins I'm going to ask them to
keep a lookout for Franz at any of the German prison camps over which
they fly."
"Your intentions are good, but it's a hopeless case that way," sighed
Jimmy, and, after thinking it over, Roger said he thought he would have
to agree to this. But still he kept on hoping, as did his chums, that
some means would be found to rescue Franz.
"If he can stand the life long enough, we'll fight our way through
Germany and raze every one of their horrible prison camps!" exclaimed
Bob hotly.
"May that day come soon," murmured Roger.
And slowly, but surely, that day was coming. Hour by hour, almost,
the great army of Americans was growing in France. Inch by inch the
detested Huns were being pushed back, fighting stubbornly at every
step. Skirmishes and small battles were frequent, and trench raids took
place on both sides nearly every night.
It was one nasty, rainy night about a week after Jimmy had received the
news that Franz was a prisoner that, as the four Khaki Boys were on
duty in a firing trench, word was passed along to be more than usually
on the alert.
"Why? Are we going to attack?" asked Bob of the platoon officer.
"We may, if things turn out a certain way," was the answer. "We have
made certain plans which will be disclosed in due time. Just be on the
alert."
And, taking their turns at being "observation sentinels," Jimmy and his
chums strained their eyes as they looked across dark and rainy No Man's
Land for the first sign of any activity on the part of the Germans.
There was a tense feeling in the air, as though something portended,
and this feeling had a basis in fact, for shortly before dawn the
German batteries suddenly opened fire on the line of trenches held by
Jimmy, his chums, and others of the 509th.
"Are we going over the top?" cried Bob, as, by the distant flashes of
fire from the German guns, he saw their platoon officer. It was safe to
talk, or even shout, now, for there was no danger of giving an alarm to
the Huns. "Are we going over the top?"
"Not in the face of that fire, at all events," was the grim answer.
"The Boches have started the ball in earnest."
Every second the blasts from the German guns increased in intensity,
and their effect was felt in the trench that sheltered the Khaki Boys.
"What's the matter with our artillery?" cried Jimmy. "Why don't they
give Fritz some of his own medicine?"
And, as if in answer, a moment later came a thunderous response from
the American lines.
"There they go!" cried Roger. "Now things will even up."
It was an awful artillery duel, and there were heavy casualties on both
sides. While the artillery was firing from either side of No Man's
Land there was little the Sammies could do save to shelter themselves
as best they could behind the parados. These were sand bags, built
up at intervals behind the parapet. They afforded as good protection
against high explosive shell fire and shrapnel as could be obtained in
trench warfare. And as they were practically impenetrable by machine
gun bullets, if a soldier could get behind the heavy bags he was
comparatively safe.
But many of them were burst apart or blown away by the missiles from
the German guns, and it became necessary, if the boys in the trench
were to have protection, to replace the bags.
Accordingly orders were given to do this, and details were told off,
some to fill bags and others to put them in place. Roger and Bob were
engaged in this last when Bob suddenly gave a cry and caught his left
hand in his right.
"Hit?" cried Roger, for there was light enough, caused by the flashes
from many guns, for him to see Bob start.
"Just a scratch," was the answer.
It was more than a scratch--being a rather deep flesh wound across the
back of Bob's hand. But with the aid of Roger he quickly bound it up
in a bandage, after applying an antiseptic, and then kept on with the
vital work of making the trench safer.
Many were wounded and many killed on both sides by that night firing,
and after an hour of bombardment on both sides there had come no order
for the Sammies to go over the top.
"Don't we get the word?" asked Jimmy of Bob, as they had a moment's
respite from building up the parados.
"It is queer," was the answer. "But if we have done anything like the
damage to the Hun trenches that they have done to ours, it must be a
bad place over there."
"I think we've paid 'em back with interest," declared Jimmy. "Our gun
fire was twice as heavy as theirs."
And so it proved, for when dawn broke, gray and misty, it was seen that
the line of German sand bags had been demolished for a long distance
up and down the trench. And in the trench could be seen the German
soldiers working frantically to repair the havoc. It was then that the
Sammies could take revenge with rifle fire, and they did, in goodly
measure.
But no word came to go over the top, and a little while after day broke
the firing died down on both sides. Soon it was comparatively quiet,
but there were sad scenes to follow.
The weather improved toward noon, and the sun came out to partially
dry the muddy trenches and the rain-soaked garments of the soldiers.
Bob's wound was dressed by a surgeon, and he was told to lay off duty
for a day. Jimmy, too, had received a slight wound, and he had the same
orders as had Bob. So the two of them went to the rear for a little
rest.
It was while taking such ease as they could that they saw an aeroplane
land near the camp to which they had come to get a little respite from
the fighting, and when they saw two figures leap from the machine, Bob
and Jimmy exclaimed:
"The Twinkle Twins!"
It was John and Gerald Twinkleton.
"Well, where'd you blow in from?" asked Jimmy.
"Had to come down to get some gas, or petrol, as they call it over
here," explained John. "Been out doing scout work. Say, I hear you had
a hot time last night."
"Sort of," admitted Bob. "Fritz tried to put one over on us."
"Yes, we heard about it," went on Gerald. "And it came near being a
bigger thing than you fellows suspect. Did you hear about the smoke
signals?"
"Smoke signals?" cried Jimmy. "Say, do you mean that there has been
some more of that traitorous work going on?"
"It looks so," said John. "When we were out flying around yesterday we
passed over a little valley. We were low enough down to see four men
around a queer kind of machine. At first we thought it was a hidden
mortar battery, but soon we saw some green and yellow puffs of smoke go
up from it. We reported the matter to headquarters, and there was an
investigation right off, but the four men had disappeared with their
smoke apparatus when a squad of our lads got to the valley."
"Do you say there were four men around that smoke signaling apparatus?"
asked Jimmy.
"Yes," answered Gerald.
"Could you tell who they were?"
"Well, no, not exactly. Except that two of them seemed to be men in
American uniforms, and the other two were civilians."
"By Archibald Montmorency! as our cook would say," cried Jimmy, "I'll
bet they're the same fellows we saw in the dugout. They are the
traitors! This is great news you bring from the air, boys!" he said to
the Twinkle Twins.
Wonderingly the four gazed at one another.