UNSEEN MARKSMEN
Roger Barlow, who had so nobly assisted Jimmy Blaise in wiping out this
particular German machine gun nest, looked around after the struggle
and on hearing his companion's remark.
"What's that?" he asked. "We have the place to ourselves? Well, why
shouldn't we after we got rid of these fellows?"
"No, I didn't mean that exactly," went on Jimmy. "But take a look! None
of our fellows is anywhere near here. The fighting seems to have been
switched over to our right."
Roger, who had almost as much blood on him as had Jimmy, took an
observation. He soon realized that what his fighting chum had said was
true.
They were on a little wooded knoll, and the view was so obstructed by
stunted trees and underbrush that they could not see very far in any
direction. But they had a sufficient view to show that there was hard
fighting going on about a quarter of a mile to their right, while all
about them the place was still and deserted--that is, comparatively
still, for the din of battle was carried to the Khaki Boys where they
stood.
"I guess we rather overran our objective," observed Roger, as he gazed
about for a puddle of water in which to cleanse himself of the blood
that was not all his.
"If you mean this machine gun nest was the objective, we did," agreed
Jimmy, as he looked at the dead Germans. "We ran right over them. But
now we'd better get back to the rest of our own bunch, or they'll be
listing us as missing or deserting."
"Yes, we'll get back," assented Roger. "But first let's clean up a bit.
There's a puddle of water over by the gun."
It was water, of a sort. In northern France it seems to rain most of
the time, or at least it did while our boys were there. There were many
shell holes over the ground, and many of them became filled with and
retained water for some time. The puddle Roger picked out was half full
of--well, liquid would be a better word than water, but the army lads
got over being fussy about a thing like that.
"It's good enough to wash in, but I'd hate to drink it," observed
Jimmy, as he began to clean himself.
"You said something!" came from Roger. "And yet I've heard our boys say
that they've drunk worse stuff than this and that it tasted good."
"Oh, I suppose so," agreed Jimmy. "But I'm going to look about a bit
before I take any of this."
And he was glad he did, for some time later, in moving about in the
little glade, they found a clear, sparkling spring, and there they
drank their fill and finished up the "bath" they had started at the mud
puddle.
"Well, I feel a hundred per cent. better," declared Roger. "And now
let's hike back. The fighting is still going on, and we don't want to
miss any of it."
Jimmy nodded, and the two Khaki Boys began to pick their way through
the underbrush. It was rather rough going, for if there had ever been
a path it was now obliterated by the bursting of shells amid the trees
when the place was under fire, as it often had been.
Roger and Jimmy were near the edge of the little glade which, as has
been said, was on the top of a hill, when suddenly, just as they were
about to cross an open space, the vicious hum of an unseen missile was
heard over their heads.
"Duck!" yelled Jimmy, at the same time dropping flat and pulling his
companion to a similar posture.
Of course it was too late to have "ducked" for that particular bullet,
as it was over their heads and past them before the boys fell prone.
But, as Jimmy said afterward, he thought more were coming.
"What's the big idea?" asked Roger, as he rubbed his elbow that had
come in sharp contact with a stone when Jimmy dragged him down.
"Didn't you hear the shot?" demanded Jimmy.
"Yes. But the bullet you hear will never hurt you. It's the one you
don't notice coming that does the trick."
"That's all right," asserted Jimmy calmly. "But there may be more
coming. Lie low now, I'm going to try a little camouflage work."
Keeping prone on his face, and seeing that Roger did the same, Jimmy
cautiously raised his "tin hat" above the earth, using a short stick he
picked up as a support.
Almost instantly there came a "ping!" and a little hole appeared in the
helmet.
"Firing at close range," observed Jimmy.
"I should say so!" exclaimed Roger. "And those aren't stray bullets,
either. It was directed straight here."
"Right!" assented Jimmy. "But the thing of it is to decide whether it's
our boys firing or some Germans who may have swept in from the left
flank."
"How could it be our boys?" asked Roger. "Don't they know we're here?"
"How could they? We rushed over with a bunch of our boys to clean out
this machine-gun nest. And we're the only ones left alive to get here,
worse luck for those who started out with us. So there's not much
chance that any fellows in our squad know we're here. At the same time,
this place was known to be held by the Huns, and our boys, who don't
know anything about our having taken the gun, may still think it's a
machine gun nest and be peppering it whenever anything alive shows, as
my helmet did. I'm glad my head wasn't in it," and Jimmy looked again
at the bullet hole in the strong metal.
"And do you think it could be Germans shooting at us?" Roger inquired.
"Of course it could be Huns. A lot of 'em are probably over to the left
of us where there isn't so much fighting going on. They may have seen
us wipe out this bunch of their friends, and now they're going to turn
the trick on us."
Roger agreed that this view of the matter was probable. Then he asked:
"What are we going to do about it?"
"Let's work our way back to the middle of the bunch of trees,"
suggested Jimmy. "We'll be somewhat protected there, and maybe if we
try to get out in another direction than the one we just attempted,
we'll have better luck.
"Wiggle back now, but don't raise your head. Can you make it going
backward?"
"It's harder to crawl backward on your stomach than it is to go forward
in the same way," said Roger; "but I'll try."
He did try, as, likewise, did Jimmy. But they found it almost
impossible because of the nature of the ground, and Jimmy called a halt.
"Let's pivot around," he suggested, and head uphill. It'll be easier
crawling then. But keep your head down."
Almost as Jimmy spoke there came another of the wicked hums of a
singing bullet, and it "pinged" against a tree not far from the two
Khaki Boys.
"They either see us or they guess we're still here," said Jimmy.
"I don't believe they see us," stated his chum. "More likely they're
just taking a chance and firing at the location where they last saw
your tin hat. We'd better hurry on."
Fear and desperation urged the boys forward, and they crawled rapidly,
if painfully, up the hill, in and out of shell holes, over sticks,
stones, and, in one case, a dead body. But eventually they reached the
place where the machine gun had been planted. It was there still, with
most of the crew dead around it.
"Wonder if we could turn it around and aim it at the fellows who fired
on us?" suggested Roger.
He and Jimmy examined the gun, and though they were not familiar with
this particular German weapon their general knowledge told them that it
was so damaged as not to be fire-able.
"Well, we'll have to depend on what we have," said Jimmy, as he looked
to his rifle and revolver. Fortunately, he and Roger had plenty of
ammunition. They had with them all their possessions, including their
emergency rations.
"We can stay here until dark, if we have to," said Jimmy. "But I don't
want to. Let's make another attempt at it on the opposite side. But
keep low."
They got a drink of water from the spring, and then lay down and began
to crawl out of the woods. They did not stand upright except when
behind the thick shelter of trees.
But no sooner had they begun to progress after the manner of a not very
agile serpent than there was the sing of bullets over their heads, and
some struck the ground near them.
"They see us!" cried Roger, and there was a catch in his voice.
"I don't believe they exactly see us," returned Jimmy. "But I think
they see the bushes move as we crawl along, and they're firing into the
underbrush."
"They'll get us just as surely that way as if they did see us, if they
keep on firing long enough," went on Roger.
"Yes, I suppose they will," agreed his chum. "Well, we've tried the
front and back doors out of this place. Now let's tackle one to the
side."
"Right or left?" asked Roger.
"Right," decided Jimmy. "That's where our boys were fighting, and the
Germans are less likely to be there. We'll try the right. But crawl,
buddy, crawl!"
"Oh, I'm going to," declared Roger.
They had moved back when they found that they were fired upon the
second time, and now they were in a position to crawl down off the
summit of the little hill, going to the right.
Would they find the way clear? That was the question Roger and Jimmy
asked themselves, and how much depended on the answer to it, they well
realized. The unseen marksmen seemed fearfully alert.