THE STORM
There had been several accidents in camp, and just before Jerry, Bob
and Ned had arrived two men had been killed by the premature explosion
of a hand grenade. It was no wonder then, that, as the young soldiers
saw the instrument of death so near them, and realized that in another
moment the missiles might be hurled among them, fear clutched their
hearts.
“Down! Down!” shouted the lieutenant again, running along the wide
trench, in crouching fashion, to see that his command was enforced.
“Get down, every one!”
Only in this way could danger be in a measure averted, and yet the
explosion, so near at hand, might cave in the trench, burying the boys.
Not more than a second or two had passed since Pug, by his recklessness,
had created the danger, and yet it seemed like hours to some, as they
gazed with fascinated eyes at the bomb so near them. It needed only a
fraction more of time to bring about the explosion.
And yet in that fraction Jerry Hopkins acted. Before any one was aware
of his intention he had leaped up on the firing step of the trench, and
was out, with a shovel in his hand.
“What are you going to do?” yelled the lieutenant. “Come back! You’ll
be killed! That bomb’s going off!”
Jerry did not stop to answer. There was no time. Neither was there time
to argue over disobeying one’s superior officer. Jerry knew he had to
act quickly, and he did.
With one scoop of his shovel he picked the grenade up in it, and, with
the same motion, he sent the deadly missile hurtling over toward the
other trench, in which there were no soldiers stationed.
With all his strength, and as far as he could, Jerry hurled the
grenade, and it had no sooner landed in the other trench, far enough
away to be harmless to the practicing squad, than it exploded. Up in
the air flew a shower of earth and stones, a few particles reaching
Jerry, who was out of the trench, and some distance in advance of it.
For a moment after the echoes of the explosion died away there was
silence, and then came a ringing and spontaneous cheer. The soldier
lads realized that Jerry had saved the lives of some of them, and had
prevented many from severe injury.
“Great work, my boy! Well done!” cried the lieutenant, as Jerry dropped
back into the trench, and the officer shook hands with the tall lad.
“It was the only thing to do, that I could see,” Jerry explained. “I
didn’t want to pick the grenade up in my hand, but I thought I could
swing it out of the way with the shovel.”
“And you certainly did,” the lieutenant said. “As for you, Kennedy, I
saw how you threw that bomb. It was against orders. You have been told
to use the overhand swing, and because you did not you dropped the
grenade too close to the trench. It was a violation of orders and a
serious one. You may consider yourself under arrest.”
Pug received only what was due him, but the look he gave Jerry told
that lad he might look for some retaliation on the part of the bully.
“I wish they’d put him out of the army, or at least transfer him to
some other company,” said Bob, when the practice was over. “He does
nothing but make trouble for us!”
And it did seem so, from the very beginning.
Jerry’s action was officially noted, and he received public commendation
from the captain for his quick work in getting the grenade out of the
way.
Jerry’s action later received a more substantial recognition than mere
words, for he was made a corporal, being the first of the trio to gain
promotion. But Ned and Bob were glad, not jealous.
“Corporal, we salute you!” exclaimed Bob, when Jerry was made a
non-commissioned officer, and Chunky and Ned formally gave Jerry the
recognition due him.
“Oh, cut it out!” advised Jerry--unofficially. “I’m not going to be any
different.”
But Jerry found that he had to be just a little different. He was given
charge of a squad of seven men, including Bob and Ned, much to the
delight of the latter, and the young officer was supposed to look after
their welfare, in a way, and also instruct them.
“Well, I’m glad Pug Kennedy isn’t any longer in our squad,” Jerry said.
“We can sort of keep to ourselves now.”
As marching, next to actually firing shots at the enemy, forms the
principal work of a soldier, there were many drills devoted to this
work. The uses of the different formations were explained to the lads,
and they were put through many evolutions which seemed tiresome in
themselves, but which had certain objects in view.
Of course, on the battlefield, there is little chance for such marching
as is done on the drill ground. But there is always distance to go,
and sometimes in the quickest possible time, so the soldiers must be
hardened to marching under the most adverse circumstances.
To this end many hikes, or practice marches, were held. Sometimes the
whole regiment, sometimes only certain companies, and again only a
squad would be sent out.
It was one day, about two weeks after his promotion, that Corporal
Jerry Hopkins was ordered to take his squad out for an all-day hike
through the country. They were to take their rations with them, and
spend the day marching about.
It was not an aimless march, though, for it had an object. Jerry was
ordered to bring back a map of the route he took, marking the location
of houses, barns, wells, places where fodder might be had for horses,
sustenance for men, and the location of the roads.
This work is constantly being done by the army, so that the military
officials will have complete information about every part of our big
country, not only for use in times of peace, but in time of war, should
we ever be invaded by a foreign foe.
Behold then, early one morning, Ned, Bob and Jerry, the latter in
command, with four other men, ready for the practice hike.
“You will use your discretion, Corporal,” Captain Trainer had said to
Jerry. “If an emergency occurs, and you have to remain out all night,
seek the best shelter you can. You have your dog tents, and you have
rations enough until after breakfast to-morrow. If you should need
more you are empowered to requisition them, giving a proper receipt
for them, payment to be made later.”
“Yes, sir!”
Jerry saluted and marched his men down the road, not a little proud of
his mission.
There was nothing remarkable about the hike. Hundreds of other squads
had done the same thing, and had brought back good maps. Jerry wanted
to do the same.
Everything went well. They reached their objective, had supper, and
camped for the night. And then their troubles began. For no sooner were
they snug in their shelter tents than a violent storm came up, with
thunder and lightning, and two of the tents, low as they were, blew
over.
“Say, this is fierce!” exclaimed Bob, for the tent he and Ned were
under had gone down. “Can’t we find some other shelter?”
Jerry came out into the storm and darkness to look about. He realized
that he was responsible for the comfort of his men.