GRIT
PUT your guns low in the niches, instead of on top of the rocks; that
keeps your heads lower. See your front sights fine and shoot low,
low, low! Don’t over aim! Make every shot count! But don’t fire until
the word is given, or it is necessary! This may mean the end, anyway,
fellows, but if so, we’ll make it a glorious one and our memory--it
will do some good; leave a record behind of what Americans can do.” So
spoke Lieutenant Whitcomb, crawling about among the squad, as a platoon
of Huns approached the position and rifle and machine-gun bullets began
cutting through the spruce branches, flattening or ricocheting with a
singing whir against the rocks. After the first deluge of fire, lasting
perhaps twenty minutes, the Germans, unable to note a result, or to
bring an answering shot, determined to know something of their enemy.
And so, quickly chosen by lot, eight or ten soldiers rapidly drew near,
carrying hand grenades and rifles and the eight or ten--they were not
counted--died when half way up the hill. Whereupon the entire platoon,
with fixed bayonets, charged. And then quick work was needed. Herbert
called out:
“The Browning! Give it to ’em, McNabb! Sweep the line! Hold your rifle
fire, boys, until I say ‘now’--now, fire! Shoot low; low! Don’t miss!
Steady! Keep cool! They mustn’t reach us! Never!”
They did not. In the face of a stream of machine gun bullets that
scored fearfully from one end of the line of men to the other and back
again, seeking spots untouched, and rifle bullets that counted a far
higher percentage of hits than the Hun knew how to score, the enemy
wavered, stopped, fell back, hunted cover and at once a messenger was
sent for more men. This fellow started up the valley and Don, knowing
what Herbert could do with a rifle, now shouted:
“Don’t let him go, Herb! Stop him from getting away!”
To make a shot of the kind the marksman had to rise a little to
have a clear sight over the rocks and among the trees and he had to
choose his time. The others of the squad, the few who could see the
hastening German messenger, watched him. The crack of the rifle
occurred simultaneously with the collapse of two of those thus noted;
the ambling Hun went down and lay still; the lieutenant, his weapon
slipping from his hand, gave a little gasp and lay back as quietly as
though merely tired. Don, the corporal and Gill saw his white face
and crawled to him. He was insensible; across his temple there was a
blue-black scar, but not a sign of blood.
“Stunned only,” Don said, in a relieved voice. “I thought he was
killed. He’ll come to in a minute. Be all right, I think.” The boy had
seen more than one similar case of glancing blow when in the Red Cross
service.
“Thank the good Lord!” Farnham said again.
“He got it just as he pulled trigger; a dozen bullets came over his
way, but he got his man with one bullet; did you see that? He’s one
dandy shot! Best I ever did see, or ever expect to.” So enthused the
corporal.
“I’d like to take him once after deer in Sullivan County,” Jennings
remarked. “There goes anothor messenger; I reckon mebbe I kin get
him.” And rising to his full height the big mountaineer let fly three
shots in rapid succession, the last of which tumbled the second
dispatch bearer into a silent heap. Whereupon Jennings got down again,
untouched, though the bullets had been singing all about him.
“Sho! My turn next!” declared Gill, between whom and Jennings there was
always a good-natured rivalry. “If I don’t get my man with the first
shot and tie with the lieutenant, you can take me out and give me to
the Jerries for a barbecue.”
“Better do that, anyway, so’s to kill ’em. Ain’t nobody kin eat polecat
an’ live through it,” Jennings countered.
But Gill didn’t get his shot. The squad did not see the next messenger
leave; he must have got away through the thickets in a roundabout way.
With the added rocks that had been piled up to strengthen their
position the men could stoop low on their feet, or kneel erect. The
machine gun was placed at a hole and above it McNabb and Wilson, the
lively crew, had managed deftly to place a wide, flat stone as a shield
beneath which they could sight very well, indeed. This rendered the
chance of getting hit a comparatively slight one, but who can tell
what direction the flight of bullets will take? The Huns were keeping
up a constant fire, uselessly wasting ammunition on stones impervious
to anything but heavy cannon and except the glancing blow that the
lieutenant had received and a flesh wound in Judson’s right cheek, not
one of the Americans had been hurt.
But it appeared as though the Huns were getting ready for another
charge and so McNabb was going over the mechanism of the Browning gun
again when a bullet, among a dozen or more sent over in the past half
minute, entered the space between the flat stone and the gun barrel and
the cheery, brave little Irishman sank down, without a groan. Wilson
leaped to his place and sent a volley into the very spot from where the
shots had come and several Huns were seen to drop, but it could never
be known whether the death of McNabb was avenged.
Meanwhile Don was working over Herbert and soon had the satisfaction of
hearing that lad’s voice: “Huh! Got hit, eh? Not as bad as gas; head
aches, though, some. We are still alive; are we? Don’t pay to show so
much as a finger; does it?”
Then they told him about Jennings’ risk and what had happened to the
machine gunner and Herbert came to his senses in a jiffy. But his were
not the only tear-dimmed eyes that gazed upon the body of the sturdy
little scrapper.
“We can only lay him aside there, boys, now. Make his temporary bier
pretty and fragrant, anyhow, with some spruce boughs, just as though he
were asleep and had laid down to rest. Now, watch out, fellows; we need
every man to hold off those weasels. I wonder what they will do next?”
It was soon very evident what they would do. Another contingent,
perhaps two squads, came to reinforce them. No doubt the commander had
been reprimanded for not killing or capturing the Americans and more
men could not be spared for the task. At least forty men should be able
to clean out a dozen, the number of the Yanks having been correctly
estimated after noting the gun fire coming from their rocky stronghold.
So the Hun commander who meant to rid their very midst of those daring
Americans resolved upon strategy, which was immediately put into
effect, but which Lieutenants Whitcomb and Richards at once foresaw.
The Hun ranks became suddenly thinned, a number of the men going off
through the trees, hastened by another round of machine-gun fire
admirably directed by Wilson. Back of trees, logs, stumps and mounds
the others waited for some little time; then, probably at a signal from
the ridge above the Americans, they came charging again up the hill.
Jennings, Gill and Lieutenant Whitcomb, with the machine gun, received
the up-hill charge and stopped it. Don, the corporal and the other five
men watched the ridge and presently, from among the dense shrubbery and
thickets, gray-green clad forms began to emerge and most of them were
sorry for it. But one Hun got far enough among the spruces to make the
throwing of a lighted grenade effective and back went his arm. Then he
dropped, for Farnham had proved to be a wonderfully quick shot. The
grenade, which had fallen with the man, exploded, blowing the body of a
brave fellow to bits.
In this sort of Indian fighting, a heritage of their forefathers, the
Americans excelled; they proved it many times in the woodlands of
France and the Germans came to fear the Yanks accordingly. This case
was no exception. Though a young and enthusiastic officer urged them
on down the hill, the Huns refused to face the accurate close range
shooting that came from they hardly knew where. It is one thing to
charge a foe that can be seen and its powers of resistance estimated
upon and quite another to attack that which is an unknown quantity and
proves itself stronger than any estimate.
Once again the squad was left alone for a time, barring the desultory
firing that always occurs when one foe is besieging another; but to
this the Americans rarely responded, except when a Hun would carelessly
show himself. At the two hundred yards intervening between besieged
and besiegers this was not safe, a fact that, after several of their
platoon were hurt or killed, the enemy discovered.
There were several ways of reducing a weakly held position, or of
destroying a small isolated force, but before some of these methods
of modern murder could be brought into use, before the means of which
could be obtained, the shades of night once more were falling fast,
though no long and idle vigil was now looked forward to. The hours of
darkness promised plenty of action, for the Yanks all knew the schemes
practiced by the Germans.
“They’ll eat and rest a bit and wait until they think we believe
they’re not going to bother us--probably two or three hours--then
we’ll be ready for them,” Herbert reasoned. “If they have flares, they
can’t use them to advantage in this woodland and they can’t be sure
enough of our position to waste ammunition on us. How do you regard
that, Don, Corporal? Come on, fellows, we want all your opinions. Don’t
let us make this so much a matter of leadership as is usual; we’re all
fighting as man and man, now; shoulder to shoulder; brothers in a big
effort to save our own and each other’s lives, so that we must all have
a say. One of our teachers at school--good, old Brighton Academy, eh,
Don?--when he would frequently consult the class on a difficult problem
would say: ‘in a multitude of counselors there is wisdom.’ Well,
fellows, we’ve got to have all the wisdom there is amongst us trotted
out here and now; we need it; we can’t make any blunders.”
Herbert was talking more than he had ever done before, but necessity
was prodding him. He continued:
“Because I am already your appointed leader I am willing to take the
responsibility of giving sudden orders when needed, but we must all
have a hand in the plans. Now, they can send a whole company here, a
regiment perhaps, and rush us. Can we hold them off? Or they can try to
wear us out by continued attack and reduce our numbers. They may use
rifle grenades, trench mortars; they probably have to send for them,
else they would have had them going before now. They might even find
means of treating us to some gas, but I guess that’s difficult in a
small way. Then, there is the night attack--we must watch for that; we
cannot see so well to repulse the considerable number that may make it
and they can get some grenades over, which in this small place won’t
be comfortable. That is the situation as far as keeping up our defense
goes.”
The young officer paused for a moment; then, speaking very slowly, his
voice a little lower, he propounded a question:
“I can hardly imagine it,” he said, “but--are there any among you
who would like to surrender? It would mean a big chance for life and
here--well, we might as well face it--you all know this means a big
chance for the beyond, or to be taken prisoner, anyway, after being
wounded perhaps and then to be neglected and suffer. We’ve got to face
it; to decide--now.”
“Durn them limberg chasers; they don’t get me livin’!” spoke up
Jennings.
“Here, too!” said Gill.
“We ought to accept your decision, Lieutenant,” declared young Farnham,
“but as for me, I’d rather hang on and fight!”
“That’s me!” “I’ll say so!” “Good boy!” came from the other men.
“There are ways, Lieutenant, to meet pretty nearly everything they
can pull off. Can’t we make some rock and pole shelters here, against
grenades and if the Heinies come up tonight, can’t we play a trick on
them?” Judson, merely a boy and showing some embarrassment, made this
suggestion.
“What kind of a trick?” Herbert asked, and Judson explained, an idea
that took with every one of the squad. Herbert was enthusiastic.
“You ought to get a commission for that, Judson! Oughtn’t he, Don? It’s
a crackerjack and we all agree to it. Now, then, let’s get to work
on the whole idea. Some of these flat stones will do for a couple of
dugouts; all we’ve got to do is to remove some of the stones to go down
several feet. Each one ought to be big enough to hold five men, sitting
down; we’ve got to sleep any old way.”