Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: "'Tis the bist uv exercise, throwin' thim things is."
Page 133]
Army Boys in France
OR
From Training Camp to Trenches
BY
HOMER RANDALL
_Author of "Army Boys in the French Trenches" and "Army Boys on the
Firing Line"_
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
CLEVELAND, O. ------ NEW YORK, N. Y.
Made in U. S. A.
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY
GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY
PRESS OF
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
CLEVELAND
Made in U. S. A.
ARMY BOYS IN FRANCE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I--The Bugle Calls
II--A Remorseless Enemy
III--The Gathering Storm
IV--War
V--A Vandal Punished
VI--The Die Is Cast
VII--For Love of Country
VIII--Off to Camp
IX--A New Life
X--Instruments of Death
XI--Nick Rabig Turns Up
XII--For France
XIII--The Lurking Peril
XIV--The War-Swept Land
XV--Within the Sound of Guns
XVI--The Airship Raid
XVII--The Baptism of Fire
XVIII--A Grim Reality
XIX--Nick Rabig Under Arrest
XX--A Rattling Bout
XXI--Paying a Debt
XXII--A Promise of Help
XXIII--Facing the Hun
XXIV--In No Man's Land
XXV--A Gallant Exploit
ARMY BOYS IN FRANCE
CHAPTER I
THE BUGLE CALLS
"Looks like war, fellows!" exclaimed Frank Sheldon, as, on a cold March
morning he came briskly into the business house where he was employed,
and slipped off his overcoat.
"Oh, I don't know," responded Bart Raymond, Frank's special chum.
"It's looked like war ever since the _Lusitania_ was sunk, but we
haven't got our fighting clothes on yet. The American eagle keeps on
cooing like a dove."
"He's waking up now though," asserted Frank confidently, "and pretty
soon he'll begin to scream. And when he does there'll be trouble for
the Kaiser."
"He isn't worrying much about us," put in Tom Bradford. "He figures
that his U-boats will do the trick long before we get ready to fight.
Sometimes I think he's pretty nearly right too. They're sinking ships
right and left. They got three of them yesterday, and one was a liner
of more than ten thousand tons."
"That's bad," agreed Frank. "But the worst thing about it is that one
of the three was an American ship. As long as they sank only French
and English vessels, it might be said that it was none of our business,
although it has always seemed to me a cruel and cowardly way of
fighting. But when they get after Uncle Sam's boats it's time for us
to get busy."
"Johnny get your gun! get your gun!" chanted "Reddy," the irrepressible
office boy.
"What's the use of talking," said Bart disgustedly. "They'll cook up
some excuse about not knowing that it was an American ship, and we'll
swallow the excuse and pretend to believe it. One lie more or less is
nothing to a nation that calls a treaty a scrap of paper."
"It wasn't that way in the old days," remarked old Peterson, the head
bookkeeper, who had been at the "Bloody Angle" when Pickett led the
charge at Gettysburg. "Men were men then and ready to fight at the
drop of a hat. Americans didn't need a swift kick then to get them
into action."
He shook his gray head mournfully at the thought of the evil days on
which his country had fallen.
"Don't you worry, Mr. Peterson," replied Frank confidently. "America
is just as sound at heart as ever she was. Just let the bugle call and
a million men will answer. We'll raise an army in less than no time."
"Well, perhaps so," admitted Peterson half grudgingly. "But even if we
did they'd be raw troops and stand no chance against trained soldiers.
They'd only be food for cannon. It takes at least a year to make a
soldier. And before we could get on the firing line the Germans might
have France and England licked to a frazzle."
"Not much chance of that," put in Tom. "It's more likely to be the
other way. What's Hindenburg doing now but retreating?"
"But it's a long, long way before he'll get back to the Rhine," replied
Peterson. "And in the meantime it looks as if Russia was getting ready
to quit. I tell you, boys, if we get into it, the work of winning the
war will be on our shoulders. And it won't be a cinch any way you look
at it."
"Not a cinch perhaps," agreed Frank thoughtfully, "but I wouldn't have
any doubt about how it would come out in the long run. I'd back
America to whip the world."
"So would I," came back Peterson promptly, "if it were just a question
of man against man. But this is a war of machinery. The day's gone by
when a man could grab a musket and run out to meet the other fellow
who, as a rule, wasn't any better prepared than he was. Now it's a
matter of cannon, and machine guns, and liquid fire, and poison gases,
and all the rest of it. The Germans have those things and know how to
use them. We haven't got them and wouldn't know how to use them if we
had. Why, a single German army corps has more machine guns than we
have in the whole United States!"
"Of course we're not prepared," broke in Hal Chase. "But we've got
plenty of company in that. Who in the world was prepared except
Germany? She caught all Europe asleep. If three years ago anyone had
said this war was coming we'd have thought him crazy."
"Yes," agreed Tom. "That's true enough and you can't blame the rest of
the world too much. But there's no excuse for us being caught this
way. We've watched this thing developing for the last two years and
coming closer and closer to us all the time. It was a dead sure thing
that sooner or later we would get in it. And yet we've been like a man
who sees the house next door burning and doesn't take any steps to
protect his own."
"Well," said Frank, "what's past is past and there's no use crying over
spilled milk. There's no use either in asking who has been to blame.
That can be settled after the war. What we Americans have got to do is
to buck up, stand shoulder to shoulder, and fight as Americans always
have fought when they've got into a scrap."
"Sure thing," agreed Bart. "But just now it would be like a man
fighting with his bare fists against another fellow that's got a gun.
He might be brave enough, but the other fellow's bullet would get to
him before his fist could land."
"It isn't the first time we've been in this fix," said Tom. "But
somehow or other we've always managed to come through on top. See how
it was in 1812. We didn't have any navy and England had the greatest
fleet in the world. But we built the ships and made the guns, and
knocked spots out of the other fellows."
"Yes," said Hal, "and Perry won the battle of Lake Erie with ships made
from trees that a hundred days before had had birds' nests in them.
And what we did once we can do again."
"You've said it!" broke in Reddy, who, although too young to be a
soldier, was chock full of patriotism.
"Oh, well," said old Peterson. "We're not in the war yet and perhaps
we never shall be. But there will be war sure enough if the boss comes
in and finds you fellows chinning when you ought to be working. So get
busy."
"How about Peterson himself?" said Bart to Frank in a lowered tone as
they scattered for their tasks. "I notice the old chap himself isn't
slow when it comes to a talk fest."
The firm of Moore and Thomas, by which the young men were employed, did
a thriving hardware business in the prosperous town of Camport, an
inland city of about twenty-five thousand people. The work was
wholesale and extended all over the country. They carried on also
quite an export trade, and just now because of the war feeling that was
in the air they were busier than usual. So that for the rest of the
morning the boys kept close to their work, and conversation was limited
strictly to business.
But the thought that was in all their minds could not be long
suppressed, and the discussion broke out afresh when twelve o'clock
struck and they knocked off work preparatory to going to lunch.
"I don't think we'll wear these duds much longer," remarked Bart as he
put on his coat. "I'll bet most of this bunch will be in khaki before
three months are over."
"I know one that will anyway," replied Frank. "Just let the President
call for troops and I'll come running."
"Oh, you fellows make me tired!" broke in a rough voice behind them.
"All the running you'll do will be to run away when you get sight of a
German uniform."
They wheeled around and saw that the speaker was Nick Rabig, the
foreman of the shipping department.
He was a big burly fellow with a mottled face, thick neck and small
eyes that seldom had in them anything but a surly expression. He was
the bully of the place, and was universally disliked.
"Who asked you to butt in?" demanded Bart, nettled at the interruption.
"This is a free country, ain't it?" replied Rabig, truculently.
"Sure it is," said Bart. "That's the reason your father came here from
Germany, wasn't it?"
The shot went home, for Rabig, though born in this country, was of
German descent and for the last two years had been vehement in his
denunciation of the Allies and fervent in his praise of the Teutons.
"Germany's all right," he retorted, "and don't you forget it!"
"If Germany's all right, it's surprising how many Germans try to get
away from it," remarked Frank dryly. "You don't notice many Americans
going over to Germany."
"That's just because Germany is crowded," defended Rabig. "But just
the same it's a better country than America ever dared to be. And when
she gets through this war she'll be twice as big as she was before and
there'll be plenty of room for all her people."
"Going to gobble up all Europe, is she?" asked Frank, sarcastically.
"Then I suppose she'll come over and take in America, too, so as to
make a good job of it," said Bart, with a grin of derision.
"Why not?" responded Rabig, promptly. "Somebody has got to rule the
world, and why not Germany?"
Quite a group had gathered about them by this time, and there was a
roar of laughter at this frank expression of the German spirit and the
German purpose.
Rabig grew red with fury. His little eyes glowered as he glared about
him.
"We'll hang the Kaiser on a sour apple tree!" chanted Reddy.
Rabig aimed a blow at him which Reddy adroitly ducked, and Frank
stepped between them.
"Leave the boy alone, Rabig," he demanded, and Rabig's fury turned on
Frank.
"What have you got to say about it?" he snarled. "Do you want to
fight?"