FORWARD
BUGLES called Captain Lowden’s company together on the night of the 5th
for the purpose of re-forming, a practice pretty regularly followed
throughout the army when engaged in continual fighting and advancing,
it being desirable to keep tabs on losses, to reorganize and to fill
gaps among officers and men.
Four lieutenants in this company so far had been killed or wounded; it
was to replace the last one that Don Richards had been pressed into
immediate service. Lowden had been hit in the shoulder, disabling
his left arm, but after a brief treatment while still on his feet
he had kept on with his men, carefully directing the re-furnishing
of supplies, the ambulance work, and, where possible, keeping their
efforts lined up with and not encroaching upon the work of other units
on either side.
Placed in command of a platoon, Don’s heart beat fast with the joy of
the responsibility and the honor of it. Though a mere boy, he was in
every way a manly fellow; older than his age, to use a paradox; much
younger than he looked to be. So full of stirring incidents had been
his experiences in France, as spy catcher and Red Cross driver during
the period of America’s participation in the Great War that he might
now as well be called a seasoned veteran as anyone thrice his age.
“Now then, gentlemen, our duty lies ahead, as before,” Captain Lowden
was saying, as the several officers together curled up on the ground
for a few hours of sleep, with two-thirds of the men about them already
lost in slumber. Their leader continued: “We can plan no particular
action, as you know, but just take what comes. The only order now, just
received, is to vary the general direction of attack to about three
degrees east of north, or as a sailor would box it, north, northeast by
north, and not to exceed one-half mile per hour until further orders,
unless there is evidence of a larger part of the line’s making greater
progress. This is done to keep separate units from getting so far ahead
as to become cut off from immediate support, as has occurred.
“Whitcomb, you take the right center of the advance; I shall proceed
with the left center; Jones and Morley will work off to my left and
Richards to the right of Whitcomb. Every little while it will be the
duty of each officer to get in touch with his nearest comrades, thus
to know where we all are, and after three hours, if possible, despatch
a messenger to me with a brief report. I am doing the same with the
captains of the other companies and reporting to the colonel, who, in
turn, sends back word of agreement or other orders by the returning
messenger. In this manner we aim to co-ordinate our efforts.
“Now then, fellows, go to sleep and good luck tomorrow morning!
Good-night.”
Almost with the first streaks of dawn, when it was hardly light enough
to see what one was doing, the men were preparing breakfast, carrying
portions to those on watch, and the portable field kitchen was soon
emptied of its supplies, though soon to be replenished. Most of the men
stuffed a little for lunch and a nibble between times into duffle bag
or pockets, often adding a bit also in case of accident.
An hour before sun-up they were roughly formed and advancing, depending
upon the scouts ahead to apprize them of the nearest enemy positions
and after that finding these as the advance continued.
Herbert and Don had a few minutes together before the advance began.
“Pills says that Judson will come round all right in a few weeks, Don.”
“I’m glad of that; I like that fellow. How about Wilson?”
“Oh, he’ll be back with us in a few days; he’s keen to get another
whack at the Heinies.”
“And Gill?”
“That’s a funny thing,” Herbert declared. “He simply didn’t know how
badly he was hurt; some kind of a nerve shock and yet he kept his
wits about him. Clear case of grit, will power, though he had to be
invalided home. Didn’t want to go, either, but the captain and I made
it clear to him that he had done more than his share of reducing the
Hun army and that poor Jennings was more then avenged. Say, Don, if an
army could be made up of such chaps as Gill it wouldn’t take more than
ten thousand of them to lick the whole German army.”
“He didn’t seem to know what fear is and he got positive sport and
satisfaction out of killing Huns. Odd, isn’t it, considering the really
good heart in the fellow, as shown toward his friends? I expect, Herb,
there are a good many such as he in this man’s army.”
“Right, there are. I’m glad Gill didn’t get his quietus. He asked for
you; then when the ambulance had to go before you came over he insisted
that as soon as we get back from Berlin and across the pond again you
and I must go see him. I guess we’ll have to accept his invitation,
Don, and have a coon hunt.”
“Let us hope we may do so. It’ll be some fun to hear him relate his
experiences; to live over what he went through back there on the hill
and before. Well, Herb, is it nearly time to start out now?”
“About. I feel good and rested; don’t you? And I want to get back into
the scrap. We’re going right on and make a clean-up, Don.”
“We sure are! Got to carry out orders,” Don agreed.
First Lieutenant Whitcomb became more positive:
“The main thing now is driving the Huns out of these jungles and we
surely are on to that game. By another week we’ll have them herded into
Grand Pre and then we’ll chase them into Sedan and after that we’ll
cut their supplies off and break up their army. You’ll see how it’ll
turn out, though it means many a hard scrap yet.”
We know now how true Herbert’s words proved. That program was commonly
accepted throughout the Army, from the C. and C. to the sutlers. What
befell our two young fighting officers over this bitterly contested
ground and from the Argonne drive to the morning when the armistice
became effective must be left to a further account of the part the boys
from Brighton Academy played in the Great War.