SURROUNDED
“TRAPPED, eh? I was afraid something like that would occur!” Lieutenant
Whitcomb exclaimed. “It’s not the first time the Heinies have vacated
ground and then quietly occupied it again; a trick of theirs to take
us by surprise when we go after them. Well, this is bad for us in two
ways.”
“How’s that, Herb?” asked Don.
“Why, you can see it. In the first place we’re surrounded, for you may
bet the Huns are in close touch with each other; they always are. So we
probably cannot get out, as Gill says. If we try to hold out, then when
our boys make the next drive we may be between two fires. But our worst
fear is of discovery before the next drive commences.”
“We’re in here pretty snug, Lieutenant; they may never get on to us at
all,” offered the corporal.
“That’s possible, but hardly likely. We’ve got to lie low.”
“We’ve a crackerjack place to defend, Herb,” Don said.
“Very good and I don’t want to be a pessimist, but with a good many
hundred against twelve--well, we might hold ’em off for a time, even
with only one machine gun. But there’s a limit to grub and ammunition,
and especially to water. What do you fellows know about water near
here?”
“A spring run ’bout as big as a shoe lacin’ over yon a couple o’
hundred yards to the northeast,” said Jennings.
“Very good. Who will volunteer to refill all canteens?”
“I’ll go, Lieutenant!”
“Me, too!”
“Count me in on that, please!”
“Say, Lieutenant, if I kin shove my ol’ face into that ’ere riv’let fer
’bout five minutes, I wouldn’t want another drink fer close on to a
week!” Jennings declared.
“Oh, boy, you must be kin to a camel!”
“Sure, an’ my middle name’s tank. Better let me go, Lieutenant; I know
the place.”
“Who do you want with you?” Herbert asked.
“That ’ere young lieutenant feller that I run acrosst a while back,
if he’ll go.” Jennings indicated Don, who was up at the other end
cleaning his automatic.
And so it befell that the boy and the big Pennsylvania mountaineer
were once more on duty together and it may be recorded that they got
back with every canteen brimming. Gill, meanwhile, had crept over to a
previous find of his, a former German position that had been discarded
for no apparent reason and he returned with the complete parts of a
wooden bucket, hoops and all, which was promptly put together and in
turn filled with water. Thereafter, admonished to drink and eat as
little as possible, lie low and make no noise and above all to be ready
for discovery at any time, the squad went into what Herbert called
hopeful retirement and thus remained until the day ended and the night
passed without incident. Dry leaves and spruce boughs made warm and
comfortable beds.
The morning of October 2d began ominously; at the first peep of day
all were awake and some bantering chatter was heard among the men.
Presently the corporal, who had crept to the outer rocks to take a look
around, held up his hand for silence and came crawling back.
“They’re coming down the valley, sir, as you reckoned they’d do,” he
said to Lieutenant Whitcomb and a moment later the sound of tramping
feet could be heard.
“Slip a spruce bough over the end of that Browning gun!” Herbert
ordered. “Now, men; all quiet! Corporal, pass that along. Tell the boys
that our lives may depend on our ability to lie low. And they are to
understand this: if the Heinies get on to us now, we are not going out
of here alive and prisoners! We’ll all croak rather than that. Be ready
for action, but nobody must go off half-cocked. Corporal, you and Gill
and Judson and Kelly and Farnham and Tomlinson man the up hillside;
Lieutenant Richards, Jennings, McNabb, Wilson, Gerhardt and myself will
look to the valley. Silence now and no heads up. I can see what is
going on through this crevice and I’ll report from time to time.”
On came the men in gray-green, probably a full regiment of infantry,
including a dozen machine-gun squads. They marched well, these sons of
the Fatherland, and they were mostly young and vigorous-looking men,
presenting not the slightest suggestion of weariness, nor of being
underfed. But there was not a word spoken among them; the entire
number was as obedient to evident orders as though possessing but one
brain and as the soldiers filed along the valley and around the little
hill, past and not fifty yards away from the position of the hidden
Americans, they reminded Herbert of so many automatons. Thus they
entered the ranks, were taught and trained, and thus they fought, a
wonderfully coördinated whole, but without individual incentive. The
boy understood, as never before, how it was that the German army was
at once so remarkably pliable and effective in strategic movement and
yet he had seen that in battle the Huns were readily disconcerted when
confronted with conditions foreign to their teaching and understanding.
Tramp, tramp, tramp. The boys were indeed marching, but they were not
the sort of boys, nor did they have the end in view that made them, as
in the old song, pleasant to contemplate by those twelve Americans up
among the rocks within hailing distance, but as yet unsuspected by the
Huns.
That muffled jarring of the earth from many tramping men would haunt
Don Richards’ memory as long as he lived. But perhaps he would need to
remember it but a very short time, for how could the little band fail
being discovered, and Herbert had declared they would die fighting. So
be it; Don for one would stick by his friend.
There was a sharp command given to the marching men below. Instantly
the nearest footfalls ceased, though beyond the little hill they were
heard to go on and on, the sound growing fainter; then ceasing. More
commands given to those near by and a general confusion of breaking
ranks ensued; the unslinging of equipment followed.
Herbert, his eye against the slit between two boulders, felt a
momentary sinking at the heart when he realized that this company, at
the rear of the column, was separating from the others of its unit and
was stopping here, perhaps for breakfast, or to rest; probably it had
been night marching.
For how long could the Yank squad remain undiscovered? And remaining
so, would it not be a veritable torture within this narrow defile,
hardly able to change position? Well, for grit and determination, in
any event Whitcomb knew he could rely on the squad; there were none
better nor more loyal; no better shots in the whole Army.
The German company prepared camp at length. The men ate breakfast
with the methodical exactness that characterizes all the Huns’ doings,
though they were four times as long at it as the Americans would have
been. Each man carried his allotment of food and utensils; each with a
regularity that showed long practice got out his duffel and fell to the
task. They sat in little groups and the mumbled words from the few who
conversed came to the squad up in the rocks like a dull murmur. Herbert
noted that the officers, four in number, kept to one side, standing,
and talking very earnestly, one of them gesticulating toward the south.
Evidently something was on foot that meant a still more determined
resistance to the Americans and this was the company in reserve of the
regiment that was intending to hold the woods at this point.
The young officer knew that his men must become impatient to see what
was going on, so he relinquished his place to Don for a peep; then
beckoned the corporal. Farther along the rocky basin some of the men
were at another peep-hole they had found and one fellow was trying to
lift his eyes just above the level rocks, but Herbert sternly motioned
him down; then crawled over and explained again the inevitable result
of being discovered. This admonition he imparted to each of the others
also and the agreement again was to try to hold the place in any event.
Hours wore on. The sky became entirely overcast, the air damp with a
suggestion of rain. From time to time it would get brighter and the
sun would appear for a few minutes. Perfect quiet was maintained in
the rock basin, though after a time Herbert called Don’s attention to
a silent game of cards going on at the other end of their stronghold.
That indicated the American spirit: next door to death or imprisonment
at the hands of the Hun, yet getting what fun and cheerfulness they
could.
Noontime came. Herbert set the example of not eating. It went harder
with some of the fellows that they could not smoke, for the white fumes
might be seen below.
The enforced inaction was becoming terribly tiresome, but the cause of
some whispered jests at that:
“I’ve completely wore out this here rock what I’m a lyin’ on,”
commented the chap from the Pennsylvania mountains.
“Listen, fellow, this old earth right here is good enough for me. It’s
a blamed sight softer than Heinie lead.”
“I wish the ‘corp’ would take a notion to get out his mouth organ
and play a jig. He might charm those Jerries down there so that they
couldn’t do a thing.”
“Sho! The only thing that charms them is tin-pan music and a bass drum.
I expect old man Wagner is right down there with ’em now.”
“Him? He’s dead! His noise killed him long time ago.”
“No, sir; I took him prisoner last week and showed him some eats. He
said the dinner horn was the prettiest music he ever heard.”
“Those fellows they call Faust and Mephistopheles, they were Huns,
weren’t they?”
“Sure, but a Frog set ’em to music; that’s why it’s worth listening to.”
“I’ll bet if we all started singin’ ‘The Watch on the Rhine’ out loud,
those Jerries down there would pull their freight for Berlin in two
minutes; they’d think we were ghosts.”
“Sho! You’d have to sing it in German.”
“Would, eh? No, thanks! My throat’s a bit sore now as ’tis. Wonder if
the feller that invented that language kept pigs and learned the sound
of it from them.”
“Sh! Lay low an’ quit gabblin’, you duffers!” whispered the watcher at
one peep hole. “Here comes two Heinies up the hill!”
Don, at the other rock fissure, turned and spoke to Herbert and the
corporal. A hasty and whispered order went around the rock basin and in
the quiet that ensued the sound of heavily shod feet, treading among
loose stones and of rustling leaves, could be distinctly heard.