THREE PRISONERS
The two Khaki Boys who had been on listening post duty were at once
disarmed by the Huns, and fairly dragged along in the darkness over
rough ground and among strands of barbed wire that scratched them, and
over stones that bruised them.
Bob had received a cut on the forehead, either from a blow or from a
glancing bullet, and the blood, running down into his eyes, blinded
him temporarily.
"Are you here, Roger?" he managed to gasp, as two burly Germans pulled
him along.
"Yes, old man, I'm here! Say, but this is tough luck!"
Again he was struck and ordered to keep silent.
Back they were hurried toward the German lines, whence had issued the
raiding party that had had such luck as to defeat a small and very
much surprised body of Americans. Perhaps it is not to their credit
to say they were surprised, but the truth must be told. Some one was
negligent, and failed to give the alarm in time.
Mackson and Jones, privates, who had been in the listening post next
to the one where Roger and Bob were stationed, had escaped in the
confusion. Amid the attack and counter-attack, and while the firing
and throwing of hand grenades was hottest, they ran back to the
trenches, calling out word of what had happened.
Jimmy was just coming on duty when the attack of the Germans took
place, and, hearing what Mackson gasped out, cried to him:
"Did you see anything of Bob and Roger?"
"Yes, they're gone!" was the answer.
"Gone? You mean killed?" and Jimmy felt as though his heart would stop
beating.
"No. They put up a good fight, but the Huns were too many for 'em.
Roger and Bob were taken off by the Boches!"
"Captured! Prisoners!" cried Jimmy. For an instant he hardly knew what
to do. The confusion was at its height, and there seemed to be some
demoralization among the Americans at this particular post. But order
was gradually coming out of it. A captain and two lieutenants hurried
up and took charge of matters. A brisk artillery fire was ordered to
sweep the German lines, to prevent, if possible, any further advance
in force. At the same time up and down the trenches and from dugouts
the gallant doughboys poured, ready to take revenge for the attack of
the Huns.
"Come on! Come on!" cried the captain, and with wild cheers and yells
his men followed him. Jimmy had a sudden thought. Rushing up to the
captain, who was listening to a report from a corporal who had been
wounded, and who had escaped after being captured, Jimmy cried:
"Two of my friends have been caught--Sergeant Barlow and Corporal
Dalton. May I take a relief party out, sir, and rescue them?"
"Yes, Sergeant Blaise! Take six men with you, and good luck! Keep in
touch with us, though. We don't want to be separated at a time like
this!"
"Yes, sir!" cried Jimmy, his heart now on fire with a desperate
resolve. He wished Franz and Iggy could be of the rescue party, but
they were already out of the trench, under the leadership of one of
the lieutenants, making a fierce counter-attack.
Quickly Jimmy picked out six privates, and rapidly explained what
he wanted. They ran forward in the darkness. Shells were exploding
overhead, there were flashes of rifle fire on every side, and a more
continuous stream of wicked spurts from machine guns. Rockets were
being sent up from the German lines, together with star-shells, and
these made the scene of the fight brilliantly light with, now and
then, recurrent periods of intense blackness.
"Barlow and Dalton captured?" cried one of the privates whom Jimmy had
selected. "That's tough!"
"We'll bring 'em back, or go over with 'em!" added another.
"Come on!" cried Jimmy, and he led the way.
He had only a vague notion of where to look for Bob and Roger. But he
and his companions in arms saw immediately ahead of them a dark mass
of fighting men. And they judged this to be the attacking party of
Germans, taking away prisoners, and fighting off the attacks of those
Americans who had hurried to the rescue.
"Come on! Let's get in on that!" cried Jimmy. "Forward!"
"Forward she is!" came the grim answer from one of the lads he was
leading.
There came a fierce burst of machine-gun fire from the German line to
the left of that fighting, struggling bunch of forms. It was followed
by yells of rage, mingled with pain, and then deep groans.
"Anyone here hit?" asked Jimmy.
"I think Jepson has gone out," some one answered. Jimmy hesitated. He
was between two duties--that toward one of his immediate force, and
the desire to rescue his chums. But he knew his duty as an officer
required him to look after his command first. He ran back to where two
of the privates were bending over Jepson. A look and a touch convinced
Jimmy that the man was past all aid.
"We'll carry him back later," he said. Then, stifling his own feelings
he cried: "Come on!"
Grimly his men followed.
On in the darkness they stumbled, now scarcely seeing where they were
going, and again blinded by fierce lights. Their ears were deafened by
the rattle and bang and roar of big and little guns.
"Why don't you call out?" suggested one of the remaining men in
Jimmy's small command. "Maybe Bob and Roger could hear you and answer.
Then you'd know where they are."
"Good idea! I will!" shouted Jimmy. He had to yell just then, for a
burst of artillery fire from the German lines, answering the guns of
the Americans, drowned all ordinary talk.
Then, when it was comparatively quiet again, Jimmy cried:
"Bob! Roger! Where are you? We're coming to the rescue!"
"Americans over this way!" was shouted in answer. "Over to your
right!"
Whether or not this was either Bob or Roger, Jimmy could not tell. But
the words were English, though immediately afterward could be heard
guttural German voices.
"That's funny!" said one of Jimmy's men. "I thought the main fighting
was over to our left. Now they tell us to go to our right."
"Well, we'll take a chance," said Jimmy.
He turned and was about to lead his small command in that direction
when they were subjected to a fierce burst of fire. There was no time
to drop and escape it, though Jimmy called to the men to lie flat as
soon as he realized that a machine gun was aimed in their direction.
For two of his men there was never any more need of orders. They were
instantly killed, and one was so wounded that he could not move.
This only left Jimmy and two men. But the sergeant had no thought of
turning back.
"Will you stick?" he asked, when the sudden spurt of machine bullets
was over.
"Go ahead!" was the grim reply.
They had hardly taken a dozen paces when from the ground all about
them dark forms suddenly arose, and from what were afterward found to
be shell holes, and the remains of trenches, other forms leaped. There
were commands in German, and, in less time than it takes to tell it,
Jimmy and his two companions were seized by several German soldiers,
their arms taken away, and, after being beaten and kicked, they were
rushed over toward the Hun lines. Dazed, wounded and sick at heart,
Jimmy could hardly understand what had happened. Then it was borne to
him that he and his rescue party--or what was left of it--had been the
victim of a trick. They had run into an ambuscade of Germans who
were hidden among the holes and ruined trenches, and had risen up to
capture more prisoners.
Rousing himself, and determining to find out how many of his fellow
soldiers were in the same disastrous position as himself, Jimmy cried:
"Any of the Five Hundred and Ninth here? I'm Sergeant Blaise and--"
"Great guns!" cried a voice Jimmy well knew. "It's Blazes! We're
here, Jimmy!" went on the voice in a half sob. "Bob and I are
here--prisoners!"
"Then we're in the same boat!" answered Jimmy, who had recognized
Roger's voice. "I'll try and get to you, and then--"
"Shut up--American pig!" cried a Hun in fairly good English as he
struck Jimmy in the face. And then the Sergeant knew how he had been
betrayed. It was by a German who spoke English.