IN THE CHATEAU
Jacques' hand shook violently as he took hold of the switch. He peered
out through the narrow slit in his shelter and saw the Germans through
the opening, almost as if he was looking behind the curtain of a
theater. Was now the time to set off the mine field? Not quite yet,
he decided. Behind him he knew his comrades were expecting him to do
his work right and he must not disappoint them.
It was a great responsibility that had been placed upon the shoulders
of this young soldier. Jacques realized that fact and was determined
to be true to his trust. Perhaps the safety of all that portion of the
French line depended upon him alone.
Nearer came the Germans. Losses, appalling though they were, did not
seem to hold them in check. They were almost over the spot now.
Jacques set his jaw firmly and steeled himself to do his duty. It was
for France he told himself. He had selected with his eye a spot which
he had determined to be one hundred feet distant; when the Germans
reached it he would throw the switch.
A few paces more and they would be over the mine field. On they came.
The first rank had now reached the spot, but still Jacques waited.
They were so near to him now that he could hear the hoarse shouts of
the officers urging their men forward. The second line stepped upon
the ground underneath which the mines were laid. Jacques threw the
switch.
An infernal fountain seemed to shoot up in the midst of the mass of men
in gray. A deafening explosion shook the ground and the air was filled
with a great whirl of smoke. Men and parts of men flew high into the
air as if they had been shot from the crater of some huge volcano.
Spellbound Jacques gazed upon the scene of awful destruction. As the
smoke cleared away he saw the ground littered with the dead and dying.
Those that still remained standing seemed bewildered. In vain their
officers tried to rally them; pleadings and threats alike were of no
avail. Their nerves were shattered and they turned and fled.
The attack was stopped. Jacques forgot the slaughter and remembered
only that the French positions had been saved. He turned and began to
crawl back towards his own lines. He had gone only a short distance,
however, when he heard a shout. Glancing up he spied the French
infantry climbing out of their trenches. Evidently they were not
content with merely having stopped the German charge; they were
determined to follow up their advantage with a gain on their own
account.
With a wild yell they dashed forward. Rifles in hand and the long
wicked-looking bayonets gleaming they rushed ahead. The Germans were
demoralized and now was the time to strike. One glance told Jacques
what was taking place and he did not hesitate an instant as to what
course to pursue. With one bound he joined his comrades and a moment
later was making for the opposing trenches as fast as any one of them.
Across the shell-swept field they raced. The ground was covered with
the dead and dying, but no one hesitated. Great holes had been dug out
of the earth by the giant shells; consequently the footing was
dangerous and more than one man came to grief from this cause.
The German reserves and artillery were busy now. They had not been
dispersed and in spite of the tremendous battering by the French guns a
furious hail of bullets was poured into the advancing troops. The
French charge was irresistible, however, and with a rush it swept up to
and into the German first-line trench.
Here a furious hand-to-hand combat took place. Using bayonets or the
butts of their rifles the men stabbed and clubbed at one another. Like
demons the French fought; they were there to win and they meant to win.
Their dash and spirit were simply invincible.
As Jacques sprang over the parapet a huge German advanced upon him with
a cry of rage. The young Frenchman had partly fallen when he landed in
the trench so that for the moment his balance was nearly destroyed.
Consequently he was at a disadvantage and seeing his enemy making
towards him he realized that before he could do anything he would be
killed. Already the German had his rifle upraised preparatory to
bringing it down upon the head of the young soldier.
It's all over, thought Jacques and he half closed his eyes. The
expected blow never fell, however. Before the German could bring his
gun down, a Frenchman standing just behind him suddenly pierced him
through and through with his bayonet. The huge German sank to the
ground without a sound.
"Armande!" cried Jacques, suddenly recognizing his rescuer. "You saved
my life."
"It is part of the day's work," said Armande lightly, for it was indeed
the daring Frenchman who had aided Jacques so opportunely.
Every German in the trench had by this time either been killed or
captured and already the prisoners were being led back to the French
lines.
"The next trench now," shouted someone. "Why stop here?"
A cheer greeted this remark and immediately the soldiers began to
scramble out of the captured position. The second line of German
trenches ran through a little wood on one border of which appeared the
tower of a château which had so far escaped destruction in some
miraculous way.
"Let's make for that," shouted Armande in Jacques' ear. "If we can
reach that château we can defend ourselves indefinitely."
"Get some more men and we'll go," answered Jacques.
"This way! This way!" cried Armande, and immediately a dozen or
fifteen men turned aside and followed his lead.
At top speed the little company dashed forward. The German rifles and
machine-guns raked them with a galling fire, but still they kept on.
Four of their number fell, but undaunted the others still continued the
mad race. Closer and closer to the half-ruined château they came.
"They're firing from the tower," shouted Jacques. "The place is
occupied."
"What of it?" demanded Armande. "So much the better."
An occasional flash from the narrow windows of the tower told that the
Germans were using the place for defense. How many of them might be in
there at present no one could tell. Not one of the attackers faltered
on this account, however. Apparently they did not care whether four or
forty men might be waiting for them.
Straight up to the front door Armande dashed. It was open and he
rushed inside. Close at his heels followed the rest of the daring
little company. A fusillade of bullets sang about their ears but no
one was touched.
Up the winding stairs ahead of them three German soldiers could be seen
fleeing. Their escape cut off below they had made for the only safe
place left, the tower of the château. Armande was for following right
after them, but Jacques restrained him.
"Wait," he cautioned. "They're above you and have us at a
disadvantage."
"But they may escape us," protested Armande.
"How can they? They can't leave that tower by any other means than
these stairs. They can't possibly escape."
"We must drive them out of there," insisted Armande.
"We will," exclaimed Jacques. "We want to plan the best way to do it
though."
"You stand guard at the door," Armande directed one of the men. "Let
us know if you see any sign of a German out there."
The soldier took his place and Armande advanced cautiously towards the
foot of the stairway. The men were huddled together on the ground
floor, irresolute as to what course they should now pursue.
Suddenly a hand-grenade came flying down the stairs, bumped along on
the last two steps and then came to rest in the center of the little
group gathered there. It was plain to be seen that it was about to
explode and that if it did so, practically the entire hand would be
killed.
Quick as a flash one of the men threw himself down upon the deadly
bomb. Hardly had he done so when it exploded. There was an
ear-splitting roar and the soldier, Fisché by name, was literally blown
to pieces. No one else was harmed.
"He saved our lives," exclaimed Jacques feelingly. "Who was that?"
"Fisché," replied one of the men.
"Well, we'd all be dead now if it hadn't been for his nerve and quick
action. What a brave man he was!"
"That mustn't happen again," exclaimed Armande. "We must clean those
rats out of the tower before it will be safe for us here."
"How are you going to do it?" inquired Jacques.
"Go up after them of course. Who will go with me!"
"I will, I will," cried a half-dozen voices eagerly.
"Come along then," exclaimed Armande, and advancing to the stairway he
placed one foot on the bottom step and glanced up.