IN THE DITCH
The time passed slowly. The cannonade slackened in intensity and at
times almost ceased entirely. The men spent their time in improving
their positions and enlarging the ditches in which they were lying.
"What are you doing, Jacques?" demanded Leon suddenly.
"Watch me," was the young Frenchman's only reply.
He placed his steel helmet on the end of his bayonet and raised it
cautiously above the edge of the parapet. Almost immediately a storm
of German bullets struck all around the spot.
"You're crazy, Jacques," exclaimed Leon. "Stop that."
"Not at all," chuckled Jacques. "I love to fool them."
"You'll get fooled yourself if you're not careful."
"No, I won't either."
He repeated the move and again the bullets rained all about him. He
soon tired of the game, however, and for a time lapsed into silence.
"How big is your ditch, Leon?" called Jacques.
"I don't know; it's pretty good size."
"Large enough for two?"
"It might hold two I guess."
"All right then," exclaimed Jacques. "I'm coming over to see you."
With two quick jumps he was out of his ditch and alongside Leon.
Little spurts of earth flew up from the parapet in front as he took his
place.
"You were too slow that time, my friends," chuckled Jacques addressing
his remarks to the Germans.
"That was a risky thing to do," exclaimed Leon reprovingly.
"I know it," admitted Jacques. "All war is risky."
"Just for that reason there is no use in taking unnecessary chances."
"That was not unnecessary," grinned Jacques. "I understand that you
have some bread and cheese still left and I am hungry."
"That's true," admitted Leon and from his knapsack he produced both
articles in question. Lying side by side in that shallow ditch the two
young soldiers ate their luncheon.
"I wonder what some of my friends would say if they could see me now,"
mused Leon. "I guess they'd be surprised."
"Because you are fighting here?" asked Jacques.
"Yes. They probably couldn't understand why I should want to enlist in
some other country's army and go to war for strangers."
"But you are fighting for liberty," exclaimed Jacques. "America stands
for liberty, does it not?"
"It certainly does," cried Leon. "Still some people would probably
wonder why I should want to fight for another country's liberty."
"But," protested Jacques, "did not France aid your country in your
struggle for independence in the war of the Revolution? Why then is it
strange that Americans should help France when she is fighting for her
very existence and life?"
"I don't think it's strange," said Leon. "I think it's only right.
What I said was, that some of my friends might not understand it."
"America and France both stand for liberty," said Jacques. "They both
had to fight hard to get it and now they should help each other keep
what they have won so dearly."
"The two nations have always been good friends," said Leon.
"Yes," agreed Jacques simply, "and I hope they always will be."
The young Frenchman rolled over on his side and suddenly jumped almost
to his feet. He clasped both hands to his face and tried to rise but
could not. His head seemed to weigh tons and he simply could not get
up.
"Jacques! Jacques!" cried Leon in alarm, kneeling beside his
companion. "What is the matter?"
Blood was oozing between the fingers of the young Frenchman.
"Let me see," begged Leon. "Take your hands away from your face."
Jacques made no answer but continued his vain efforts to rise.
With difficulty Leon forced his hands from his face. Jacques was now
bespattered with blood which spurted from a long gash running from his
left eye to the corner of his mouth.
"Lie down, Jacques," begged Leon anxiously.
Without a word the wounded boy stretched himself out upon his back in
the ditch. Leon reached for his emergency dressing and began to do
what he could for the young Frenchman.
"A steel splinter hit me, I guess," murmured Jacques.
"I should say it did," agreed Leon soberly. "It's a lucky thing it
didn't hit your eye. How do you feel?"
"All right. Pretty weak though."
"A doctor ought to dress that wound," said Leon. "You can't leave this
place before dark though; it would be sure death to try."
"Oh, I'm all right enough," said Jacques. "This is only a scratch."
"A pretty deep scratch I should say," replied Leon grimly. "It'll
leave a scar as long as you live."
"What of it?"
"It won't help your looks any."
"What do I care? That scar will always remind me that I did something
for France. I shall be proud of it."
"Do you feel any better?" asked Leon.
"A little. I'd like my canteen though."
Leon reached for the article in question which was lying on the edge of
the little ditch. As he turned he felt a blow in the shoulder.
"What's the matter?" demanded Jacques as he saw his companion sink back.
"I'm hit," said Leon simply.
"Where is it?"
"In the shoulder."
"Unbutton your coat and shirt and look at it."
Leon quickly complied and a moment later picked a rifle-ball out of his
shoulder. It had barely broken the skin and the wound bled but little.
"That's funny," mused Leon. "How do you suppose its force became spent
so soon?"
"It must have struck something else first."
Leon looked about him. "I should say it did," he exclaimed. "Look
here."
He picked up Jacques' gun which was lying on the parapet. The bullet
had struck the magazine of the rifle, knocked out one cartridge and
torn a hole through the wooden stock.
"Pretty lucky for you," said Jacques. "If it hadn't been for that gun
you'd have been done for now."
The afternoon dragged slowly along and the bombardment began to
increase in severity once more. Evidently the way was being prepared
for a further advance of the infantry that night.
"I'd better leave you now I guess," remarked Leon as dusk began to
creep over the battlefield. "You stay here and I'll go back to your
ditch."
"Be careful," warned Jacques. "Keep low."
With a quick jump Leon sprang out of the ditch and over into the one
Jacques had formerly occupied. His appearance was greeted by a volley
of bullets from one of the German machine-guns but the aim was too high
and he reached his goal in safety.
As night fell half the section remained on the alert while the other
half slept. The cannonade was now furious but the men managed to get
some rest. At midnight Leon was relieved from his watch and prepared
himself for sleep. One of the men furnished him with two overcoats
stripped from dead Germans and with these he made a fairly comfortable
bed.
In spite of the terrific din made by the guns he at last dozed off to
sleep. How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly he awoke to
find himself in complete darkness. He felt suffocated. He tried to
rise but was unable to move. Something seemed to be holding him down
and choking him at the same time. There was no air to breathe.
He set himself for a strong muscular effort. He drew in his breath and
his mouth filled with dirt. Suddenly the awful truth flashed through
his mind. He was buried alive.