IN NO MAN'S LAND
It was a misty, muddy night upon which the reconnoitering party,
including Frank, Bart, Billy and Tom, was sent out under Corporal
Wilson, with orders to get as close as possible to the enemy's line and
learn all they could regarding their positions.
This included information in regard to the general direction of the
enemy trenches, the extent and strength of his barbed wire
entanglements and, if possible, the approximate force with which the
trenches were manned.
Of course, this order involved taking pretty long chances, but the
picked men sent out did not give much thought to that side of the
question. By now it was all, not only a part of the day's work to
them, but the excitement of such an expedition was, in truth, something
of a relief from the growing monotony of trench life.
They left their own trenches with the least possible sound and crept
cautiously forward toward the enemy defences. The night was heavy and
starless, an excellent one for their project.
The soft earth deadened their footsteps and they slipped forward like a
company of ghosts, hardly a sound breaking the stillness save the
distant roar of the heavy guns that caused the ground to quiver and
tremble under their feet.
The mist enveloping them began to grow denser minute by minute and
before they had gone more than a hundred yards it was with the greatest
difficulty that they kept from becoming separated.
It was an uncanny experience for the young, almost untried soldiers,
and the Camport boys were excited, and each eager to prove himself
worthy of having been chosen for the work.
Suddenly Frank thought he heard a subdued sound on his right and
instinctively stopped a moment to locate it more definitely.
In that second his comrades, who apparently had heard nothing, were
swallowed up in the thickening fog. Frank's impulse was to hasten
after them but he had hardly taken a step forward when he was again
halted by a repetition of the noise he had heard before.
He dared not call out to his comrades as he knew that such a cry would
betray them all in case they were near the enemy trenches. His next
thought was to return to his own lines, but the sound he had heard,
surprisingly like the low-pitched gutturals of a German voice, made him
unwilling to go back without investigating the matter further.
Besides, here was the beginning of an adventure after his own heart,
and he thought with a quickening pulse of the satisfaction that would
be his if he could, unaided, gather valuable information and take it
back to his commanding officer.
This reflection decided him and slowly and with infinite caution he
stole in the direction from which the sounds seemed to come.
He had not gone far when his first impression was verified. Through
the mist he heard distinctly the subdued sound of voices. Creeping on
still farther as quietly and stealthily as a jungle animal, he could
finally catch the articulation in the voices, and he knew the language
spoken was German.
"I must be mighty near their entanglements by this time," he thought
excitedly. "If I can only get through them I ought to be able to hear
something. Here goes for a try at it anyway."
He dropped to hands and knees, regardless of the sticky mud, and wormed
his way along, one hand outstretched feeling for the wire that he knew
must be close. Sure enough he had not gone ten feet when his hand came
in contact with the wire. He dropped flat on the ground and carefully
drew his wire cutters from his belt. Cautiously he nipped a section
out of the lowest strand and crawled beneath. He knew that he would
soon come to a second line, and when he reached it he cut it in the
same way he had the first, and then cut a third and a fourth.
"That's probably the last fence," he thought, nor was he mistaken.
He was now close to the enemy's trench and could hear the subdued
murmur of voices. Above these came every now and then a sharp word of
command and the click of gun mechanisms being inspected together with
other sounds indicating a state of bustle and preparation.
To Frank lying prone on the miry ground, these sounds conveyed a very
definite and significant message.
"They're up to something sure as shooting!" he thought. "I'll bet
they're preparing for an attack on our trenches! They're all as busy
as bees!"
He lay quiet a minute longer until the sounds of preparation increased
to such an extent that he felt sure the Germans would soon be on the
move.
"About time for me to hunt cover," he thought with a grin that even his
perilous position could not repress. "The sooner I get out of this and
warn our men the better it will be."
With this thought in mind he turned cautiously about and had started
back when suddenly he saw something that made his heart lose a beat.
All over the wire entanglements that lay across his path of escape long
sparks were leaping and hissing with a subdued crackling sound like the
snapping of a wood fire. The Germans had electricified their wires in
the hope of entrapping any scouting party of Americans who might chance
to penetrate them!
Now indeed Frank found himself in a terrible predicament. He knew that
in the maze of wires he could hardly hope to find the place where he
had entered, and he was sure that with the heavy current in the wires
it would be certain death to touch them with his clippers. On the
other hand he knew that the current would be shut off only a minute or
so before the Boches left their trenches to attack. He would hardly
have time to cut his way out before being discovered and shot.
However his only chance seemed to be to lie still and await
developments. This he did, resolving to make a dash the second the
current was cut off.
As he lay there his ears caught the sound of measured footsteps
approaching him.
"It's a sentry!" flashed through his mind. His hand flew to the
bayonet at his side and he prepared to strike quick and hard.
But then another thought came to him. There must be a way through the
entanglements that the Germans used. If he could capture the sentry he
might be able to make him act as a guide.
It was a chance--and a desperate chance. Would the sentry prove to be
alert and resourceful? Would his love of the Fatherland, or at least
his training that the individual must be always subservient to the
government, cause him to give the alarm at the expense of his personal
safety? Or would he be slow to think and act, and would the very
training, having undermined his self-reliance, make him yield to the
quick intelligence and the poise that freedom had given to the American?
Noiselessly he shifted his hand to his revolver and drew it forth. He
knew that it would be fatal to risk a shot, but he grasped the barrel
of the weapon and as the heavy footsteps came abreast of him leaped to
his feet and brought the butt down with stunning force on the head of
the dim stolid figure that loomed through the mist.
The man dropped without a cry but Frank listened anxiously to judge if
the sound of his fall had reached the trenches. Apparently it had not,
and satisfied of this the young American turned his attention to the
inert figure at his feet.
Presently the man stirred and then in a dazed fashion started to
struggle to his feet. Quick as lightning the cold muzzle of Frank's
revolver was pressed against the German's neck speaking a language that
all men understand. The soldier stood quite still and Frank felt that
the man, unstrung by the unexpected attack, would not risk death by
giving an alarm.
He was at a loss to convey a command to the German to show him the way
out through the barbed wire. He knew little of the German language.
But it occurred to him that possibly the German could speak English.
"Show me the way out of this," he commanded, speaking very slowly. "Do
you understand?"
"_Yah, yah,_" mumbled the German. "I vill show you, only don't shoot.
Dis way. Follow me."
"I'll follow you and mighty close too," Frank assured him. "One false
move and you'll never make another."
The German made no reply but crawled sullenly through the mud, Frank
following with the muzzle of the gun pressing the man's leg.
Soon the German paused at what appeared to be a sort of gate but would
have seemed like any part of the fence to one not acquainted with it.
After a moment's fumbling the gate swung open and captor and captive
crawled through. In the same way they got through the other lines of
wire. Frank was once more in the open and the proud possessor of a
prisoner besides.
"Forward march!" commanded the young American. "We will now visit
those pigs of Yankees you fellows are so fond of talking about. I know
they will be glad to see you."
The big German only hunched his shoulders and went on doggedly. In a
little while they were near the American trenches and after answering
the sentry's challenge they clambered down.
Frank was met with a wild rush by Bart, Billy and Tom, who had been
almost crazy with anxiety because of his failure to return.
"Where have you been, Frank?" shouted Bart, "and where did you get the
Boche?"
"I'll tell you when I get back, fellows," promised Frank. "Take care
of this Hun. I've got to report right away. I think the Huns are
going to attack."
He hurried away and made his report.
"You've done well, very well," declared Captain Baker. "And if the
enemy attacks, as you think likely, they will find us ready for them.
You may return to your company."
Frank saluted and hastened back. Orders were issued, and soon every
man was at his post, strung up to the highest pitch of excitement and
expectancy. They strained their eyes through the baffling fog but for
a while could see or hear nothing.
Then suddenly a white shaft of light stabbed through the fog and
piercing the damp folds revealed row after row of helmeted figures
moving toward them with a deliberation and menacing weight that might
well have struck terror to hearts less stout than theirs!