A DOUBLE LOSS
After waiting a moment on the ground at the top of the shell crater,
to see their comrade being carried to a first-aid dressing station at
the rear, Jimmy and Roger started back to join their two friends who
were still, it was to be hoped, waiting for orders to advance.
"S'pose he's much hurt?" asked Roger, something like a dry sob choking
him as he thought of poor Iggy.
"I'm afraid so--yes," answered Jimmy. "That business of his legs
feeling numb is a bad sign. It's a wonder he lived as long as he did,
after what happened to him."
"I'll say so!" agreed Roger. "Tough luck all right!"
"Why," went on his chum as they started back toward their former
places, "it looked as if his whole face was blown in. I can't
understand it"
"Well, they'll do the best they can for him back there," and Roger
nodded toward the dressing stations. "Maybe we'll get a chance to go
to see him after this battle."
His words were drowned in a new roar of artillery and machine-gun
fire. The heavy booming and the short, sharp, rattling explosions of
the smaller guns seemed very close at hand.
"Something's doing!" cried Jimmy.
"Come on!" shouted his chum, and, with their rifles and gas masks,
which they had brought up out of the shell hole, they rushed forward.
And as they advanced they became aware of shrill, whistling sounds in
the air about them.
"Duck! Duck!" yelled Roger. "They're firing over our sector now!
We've got to crawl back!"
Jimmy realized this as well as did his chum, and, in another moment,
the two were making their way back to their line as they had left it,
by alternately moving on their hands and knees and again by working
themselves forward on their elbows and stomach. It was the only safe
way. The horizontal storm of missiles was, fortunately, about three
feet above them, but that distance precluded walking upright.
"Come on, boys! Fall in! Fall in!" cried their lieutenant as Roger and
Jimmy got back "We're going to advance. You're just in time!"
"Did you find him?" asked Bob, as he leaped to his feet in readiness
for a dash toward the German lines.
"Yes. In a shell hole!" yelled Jimmy, for the firing was heavy on both
sides of them now, making a vicious din.
"Alive!" Franz wanted to know.
"Yes, alive, but how long he'll be that way it's hard to say,"
answered Roger. "He was under a pile of dirt and--"
"Come on! Come on!" cried the lieutenant. "We're going to finish the
job!"
He was leading his men, not driving them on as do the Germans,
and nobly the four Brothers and their fellows followed the gallant
lieutenant.
On they rushed--ever onward. About them swept the leaden hail of
death. Shoulder to shoulder, firing from the hip, rushed the four
Khaki Boys. And even in that terrible din of battle they spared a
thought for the gallant comrade who would have been with him if he
could.
With wild yells the Sammies swept over the first line of German
trenches. The Boches had deserted them in the face of a withering
rifle and machine-gun fire.
"Come on! Come on!" yelled the lieutenant again and again. "They're
laying down a perfect barrage for us! The Huns can't get through to
attack us!"
This was true, to a certain extent. Supported by the big guns in the
rear, the 509th Infantry was rushing onward. Before them, and ever
moving forward, was a never-ending curtain of fire--a hail of lead and
steel.
As this curtain advanced, caused by the continual but slow elevation
of the muzzles of the big guns, the infantry followed. And this fire
kept the German support from coming to save the lines that were under
attack.
"Wipe 'em out! Wipe out the Hun nests!" cried the lieutenant.
"It's our turn now!" grimly shouted Roger in Jimmy's ear.
Forward swept the company to which our heroes were assigned. For a
time, during which the two chums had had a chance to get Iggy from the
shell hole, there had been no advance. Now it came with a vengeance.
But the Germans were not idle. If their infantry was held back
from making a counter-attack, their heavy guns, and here and there,
machine-guns, were not idle. And these weapons tore big holes in the
ranks of the Sammies. But ever the holes were closed up--comparatively
closed up, that is, for the fighting of the Americans was not in close
order, such as that in which the Germans so often advanced to their
deaths.
At times the four Brothers would be close to one another, converging
to get out of the line of some trench or avoid a shell hole. Again
they would be yards apart But they kept in "contact," as it is called.
And ever as they advanced they fired their rifles into the German
lines. True they could only now and then catch a glimpse of the foe,
but they made those chances tell.
"Come on now, boys--a little farther and we'll have our objective!
Just a few yards more!" cried the lieutenant who was leading our
heroes. "Once we're at that barn, we can rest. Only a few feet
more--only a few--"
His yelling voice suddenly ceased, and Jimmy, who was nearest, saw the
gallant soldier crumple up, with a bullet through his head. And as he
fell his men behind him, leaped over his body with wild yells of rage.
"Come on! Come on!" screamed Jimmy, inflamed to the point of madness.
He was in command at this point now, following the death of the
lieutenant. "Come on! Make 'em pay for that!" He choked back his sobs,
for the lieutenant was well beloved.
On they rushed, on and on. The man on Jimmy's left was killed, and the
comrade on his right fell with a shattered leg.
"I'm out of it!" suddenly shouted Franz, and he tried to hop on one
foot, falling, a moment later, in a shallow hole.
On the others rushed, and finally, with wild yells, they drove the
Germans from their last stand. The stone barn held a machine gun nest,
and many of the Sammies were killed or wounded before the crew of
Huns were scattered or captured--and there were very few of this last
class, so desperate was their resistance.
From somewhere came the signal to cease firing, and, a little later, a
captain came along and took charge.
"Who's in command?" he asked, seeing no commissioned officer in the
group which had for a nucleus Jimmy, Roger and Bob.
"I am, sir," answered the former, saluting. "The lieutenant was
killed."
A twitch of the face, and a hardening of the muscles about the
captain's mouth were the only signs of emotion he showed, but his
heart was torn--the boys knew that. The lieutenant was his only
brother.
"Hold this place at all costs!" was the grim order. "I'll send an
officer to take charge shortly. But hold the place!"
"Yes, sir." and Jimmy saluted again.
Quickly they took measures to do this--to make the stone barn, once
the part of a French farm homestead, a position of defense. The German
machine-gun, for which there was considerable ammunition left, was
turned to point at the Hun line. But the Boches had withdrawn some
distance. The Sammies had gained their objective, and the battle, for
the time being, was over. Now there might come a counter-attack, and
for this Jimmy, temporarily in command, prepared with his chums.
"Bob," called Jimmy to the former reporter, "you and Roger go back and
see if you can pick up Franz, or any other of our lads who are alive.
See what they need, and, if it's possible, get first-aid to them."
This was a welcome order to these two Khaki Boys and they started back
over the ground won at such terrible cost. Already, though, gallant
stretcher-bearers were searching among the dead to succor the living.
And then, to their unutterable delight, Roger and Bob saw Franz
limping toward them, using his rifle as a crutch.
"Thought you were done for, like poor Iggy," cried Roger.
"I thought so, too," answered Schnitz. "I felt sure my foot was lopped
off, but it was only bruised on the ankle by a stone that some piece
of shell must have kicked up. It's only badly bruised. I don't have to
go to the rear!" and he said this joyously.
But there were many poor lads who did have to go to the rear, for they
were torn and mangled. And there were some who had made their last
fight. But it was a good fight. Oh, it was a good and noble fight! Be
sure of that!
Assisting Franz, Roger and Bob got back to the barn, and there they took
off their comrade's shoe. As he had said, his ankle was only bruised. He
was able to limp along.
The Hun fighters had received more than they wanted. They had not only
withdrawn to a good distance, but they did not even have nerve enough
to launch a counter-attack. The American advance had been so well
prepared that it won the battle.
"Well, now we have time to breathe and eat," commented Jimmy, who had
been relieved in command.
"Say, a lot of things have happened since the zero hour this morning,"
remarked Roger.
"You said it!" declared Bob fervently. "If I was only on the paper
now I could write a front page story, instead of a miserable little
'stick' about a runaway horse. Oh, but this was some fight!"
It was toward evening, and the tired doughboys were wondering what the
night would hold for them, when Jimmy remarked:
"I'm going to see if I can find Sergeant Maxwell."
"What's the matter with him?" asked Roger.
"Nothing, I hope. But I gave him those five thousand francs to keep
for me--you know, the reward money--_our_ money," explained Jimmy, for
it was that, as you shall see. "I want to get it back, now that the
battle is over. We won't go into action very soon again, I'm thinking.
I just gave him the notes to keep for me until this scrap was over.
Now I think I'll get 'em back again, and divide 'em up."
"Are you going to persist in your generous notion?" asked Bob.
"I sure am!" was the somewhat indignant answer. "What do you think I
am, anyhow, an Injun giver? I said we five Brothers would share and
share alike in that reward, and I'm going to insist on it. If Iggy--if
he's killed--his share goes to his folks. Why, you fellows helped as much
in putting that dog Von Kreitzen out of the way as I did."
"Nonsense!" declared Roger. "You did it all alone!"
"Well, I'm not going to spend the reward all alone, and that's
settled!" snapped Jimmy. "It's going to be whacked up, just as I
promised. Now I'm going to find Maxwell and get the dough. Why, of
course, I'm going to divide it. And I'll be glad to get my share right
now. We haven't had any pay in some time, and goodness knows when I'll
hear from home."
"Or Buffalo," added Bob, with a laugh.
"Yes, or Buffalo," agreed Jimmy. He had admitted that his "girl" lived
there--a girl to whom he often referred as "Margaret," but beyond this
he had said little of her. "So I'm going out to find Maxwell. I'll be
back soon," he promised.
He received the necessary permission and was soon scouting about,
back of the German trench lines, which had been taken over by the
victorious Americans.
"Seen Maxwell?" asked Jimmy of a fellow non-commissioned officer who,
he knew, was in Maxwell's mess.
"Maxwell? No, I haven't seen him lately. Didn't you hear about him?"
"Hear what about him? What do you mean?" asked Jimmy, and he was
conscious of a strange foreboding.
"Why, Sergeant Maxwell has been missing since just about the time we
got word to go over the top at the zero hour," stated Corporal Blake,
to whom Jimmy had applied. "I thought you knew that."
"No, I didn't," said Jimmy quietly. Then he whistled.
"What's the matter?" asked Blake.
"If Maxwell is missing then it's a double loss," was the answer.
"A double loss? What do you mean?"
"I mean my five thousand francs are gone, too. Whew! Well, it can't be
helped, I suppose. I'll go tell the boys!"