THE OLD MILL
Silently the five Brothers, again united and ready to fight to the
death, gazed at one another as they lined up in the trench. That is
they were silent as regards conversation, for they could not talk
with their gas masks on, and the warning given by the lieutenant--the
warning and the admonition to stand fast--had been the last words he
uttered before he, too, donned the protecting device. And no sooner
had the five Brothers and those about them begun to breathe through
the chemicals that destroyed the terrible chlorine, than over it came
rolling in a deadly, yellowish cloud.
And yet it was far from silent in that hideous storm, for the very
ground shook and trembled with the intensity of the gun-fire--the
gun-fire not only of the Germans but the Allies as well.
It was an attack in force, and the fire was of the fiercest. Protected
somewhat by the trench, in which they were, nevertheless the members
of the company to which our heroes belonged sustained several
casualties.
At one place a high explosive shell struck on the very edge of the
trench, caving it in, and burying beneath tons of earth and stone the
unfortunate Sammies stationed there. And the worst of it was that no
adequate revenge could be taken just then--at least no revenge that
was visible to the enraged comrades of the killed and wounded.
For the orders were to stay in the trenches and repel the attack at
first. Later the counter-attack on the part of the Americans would
take place, and then it might be that the Huns would be made to pay
dearly for their work.
Jimmy looked through the grotesque goggles of his gas mask at his
chums. If appearances went for anything they were on the alert and
ready to jump over the top at the signal and fight to the death. But
the word was delayed, for what, doubtless, were good military reasons.
There was little that could be accomplished in firing one's rifle over
the top of the trench. This was all right in the case of sniping, but
for a general attack the work had to be done by the artillery, big and
little. Later would come the rush in the open, or the standing fast
to repel the attack of the gray hordes. And then the rifle fire of the
infantry would tell.
It was hard waiting--to be stuck down in what was, literally, a "mud
hole," and stay there while, over one's head, shrilled and screamed
the big shells, that must create untold havoc, damage and death in the
rear.
Fortunately, however, as was learned later, the Germans did not have
the range accurately. They wasted much of their fire on unoccupied
ground in the immediate rear of the American position, and it was only
an occasional shell that landed near the trenches. So the position of
our heroes was not as bad as at first they imagined.
But it seemed bad enough, and the firing from the Hun positions was
intense, and as long as Jimmy, Bob and the others did not know that
the Boches did not have them under accurate fire, they suffered nearly
as much mentally, as though the knowledge had been positive.
For an hour or two the terrific artillery duel kept up, the Germans
hoping to blast away all trenches, barbed wire entanglements and sweep
away any opposing forces so that the ground wrested away might be
gained back. And during this time the forces of the defenders of
liberty were, in the main, inactive. There was little to be gained in
rushing the enemy just yet. That time would come later.
And so under a deluge of high explosives, of shrapnel, of trench bombs
and the deadly gas the five Khaki Boys and their comrades in arms
suffered--physically and mentally. For a gas mask is both physical
and mental torture. It is safe, and that is about the best that can
be said for it. Merely to sit quietly with one on is a torture, and to
work or fight in one is about the limit of human endurance.
Still the orders were to keep them on, and they were kept. But more
than once Roger, Franz or Iggy would look around as though for a sight
of some one in authority who would tell them to remove the hideous
head-pieces.
But the Huns still kept sending over the poisonous gas from shells and
from the big cylinders of it they had brought up to the front lines.
And the wind was in their favor, blowing straight toward the American
lines, so that the deadly yellow fumes came over in rolling clouds.
And then, somehow, word came back to the officers in charge of the
big American guns that their shells were having an effect on the Hun
artillery. Piece after piece of the Boche batteries were silenced,
and at last the Sammies began to obtain mastery of the artillery
situation.
And then it was that a barrage could be laid down, and an advance
attack made. But it had to be made under somewhat adverse conditions,
for gas masks must be worn. And to leap from the trench, and stumble
over No Man's Land, under heavy fire, and discharge one's own rifle,
all the while wearing one of the canvas and rubber contraptions, was
not real fighting--at least so Jimmy said afterward.
But such it had to be, and at the signal the five Brothers leaped up
with their comrades and went over the top again--over the top of the
trenches that had either been dug when the new position was taken and
held, or over the top of some of the trenches wrested previously from
the Germans.
There was no shouting and yelling, such as often and ordinarily
preceded an attack over the top. One can not shout in a gas mask. But
there was shouting in the hearts of the Sammies as they rushed forward
to do their share in destroying the beast from the earth.
Upward and onward they rushed and then they were in the midst of the
battle. And yet not exactly in the midst, for the actual conflict was
rather of longer distance than that. Hand-to-hand fighting had not yet
occurred. But they advanced, firing as they rushed on, not in close
formation, for that offered too good a target, but separated. They
would fire, rush on, drop to earth, rise again, fire and rush on. And
so it went.
And then, after an hour or two, there came a sudden shift in the
wind. It was presaged by a calm, so that the deadly chlorine gas rose
straight up instead of being blown over the American lines. And then,
with a suddenness that must have been disconcerting to the Huns, the
gas was blown back in their very faces.
Without doubt such fiends as devised that form of fighting were, in
a way, prepared for this, and had their gas masks ready. There were
times, in the early stages of the gas war, when often whole companies
of Germans would be wiped out by a sudden change in the wind, when gas
was being sent over. But the Boches learned from experience.
However, whether or not the return of their own gas worked any havoc
among the Germans it did one good thing; it enabled Jimmy and his
chums, as well as their comrades, to remove their own oppressive
head-coverings, after a certain time had elapsed.
Once they took them off, they sniffed cautiously of the air. There
was none of the choking taint of the chlorine--a gas which seems
to dissolve the lung tissues--the air was sweet and pure--that is,
comparatively so, though it was odorous with powder fumes. But these
were a perfume compared to chlorine.
"Oh, this is better!" cried Jimmy, as he breathed deep and filled his
lungs naturally, for though there is everything to be said in favor
of the gas mask when an attack is on, one can not breathe naturally in
it.
"I should say so!" agreed Bob.
"Well, where do we go from here?" chanted Roger.
Their particular fighting contingent had been halted in a grain field.
All about them, that is up and down such a line as had been formed,
the fighting was going on.
And on either side of them, and in front and behind, there was
the rumble and roar and thunder of heavy guns. In the ranks of the
comrades of the five Brothers there were bloody gaps. They had won
their way thus far at no small sacrifice of life and limb. But, so
far, our friends had escaped scatheless, though they all bore wounds,
as you know.
It was a pleasant, sunny day--that is, it would have been pleasant had
it not been for the war. That spoiled the pleasantness, but nothing
could stop the sunshine. To the great orb that had seen the earth
formed, this fighting, momentous as it was destined to be, was only an
incident in the rolling on of the ages of time.
"Wonder why we're being held up?" ventured Franz. "I haven't had half
enough of fighting yet."
"Nor of me, neither," declared Iggy, who seemed to have recovered all
his spunk and spirit. "It is of a betterness to shoot lots when of a
gas mast you are delivered, yes?"
"Right, old top!" shouted Jimmy. "Hello!" he went on, as he saw the
major of the battalion approaching. "I guess here's where we get
orders!"
And they got them--orders to advance. And this time they went forward
with yells, for it was said that the gas attack was over--the kindly
wind had done its work well.
"There they are! There are the Huns!" cried Roger.
His chums looked, and saw dimly through the smoke, a gray line, like
some great worm, that would oppose their progress.
"Come on! Come on! Eat 'em up!" shouted Jimmy.
The others needed no urging. At the Huns they went--firing and being
fired at.
For a time it was a battle of rifles--the artillery and machine-guns
seemed to have been silenced temporarily. On rushed the Sammies, in
their own peculiar but comparatively safe, open formation. Rushing,
dropping, firing, up again, now down, but ever going onward, led by
their officers.
The Huns received the fire, and that it was deadly was evidenced by
the gaps torn in the gray ranks. Then they would close up, fire as
though by platoons, and come on slowly.
Suddenly the comparative slowness of the rifle fire was broken by the
staccato explosions of a machine-gun. It opened on the left of the
position taken up by Jimmy and his chums, and in an instant had mowed
down several doughboys.
"Take what cover you can!" shouted a lieutenant. "Where's that gun?
Did any one notice?" "Over in that red mill!" some one shouted.
Afterward it developed that this was Franz, who was an expert shot and
quick in judgment.
Dropping flat in the low-growing grain, many eyes of the Sammies
turned in the direction of the red mill. It was a French one, of
picturesque construction. And as Jimmy and his chums looked they saw
a little wisp of smoke come from one of the windows. Then came another
staccato discharge, but this time with less deadly effect.
"We've got to get that gun!" cried the lieutenant. "Volunteers wanted
to rush the red mill! Who'll come with me?"