LIPPEN BREAKS
A terrific explosion shook the earth. Dirt was mixed with logs and
stones and showered everything nearby. The deadly lyddite blackened
the faces of the two young soldiers and half blinded them. For some
moments they were too stunned to move.
Finally they recovered somewhat from the shock and rose to their feet.
"Look at that dug-out, Jacques," exclaimed Leon. "It's blown to
pieces."
"How about the men inside?" cried Jacques. "There are six of them."
As he finished speaking one of the trapped soldiers crawled out. He
pulled himself along with one arm, for the other was terribly
shattered; one of his legs hung only by a tendon and a few shreds of
flesh.
"Quick, Leon!" cried Jacques. "Cut the cord from your bandolier; you
tie up his arm and I'll attend to his leg. We must stop this flow of
blood or he'll die."
The wounded soldier was a fine, healthy boy; a few minutes before he
had been telling what he planned to do when he went home on a furlough.
Now his face was white with agony; his voice grew weaker and weaker and
he died while Jacques and Leon were working over him.
"This is awful," cried Leon fiercely.
"This is war," said Jacques.
High explosive shells were now bursting all along the line; tons of
earth were thrown high into the air and the very ground rocked beneath
their feet. Men hurried from one spot to another trying to find
protection where there was none; oftentimes masses of earth were blown
in on top of them.
"Picks and shovels!" came the cry, and "Stretcher bearers! Stretcher
bearers!" resounded on all sides.
"The rest of those men in the dug-out are dead, Leon," said Jacques
calmly. "We can do nothing for them and the thing for us to do is to
rejoin our company."
"Think of it," exclaimed Leon as they hurried along. "If we'd stayed
in that dug-out two minutes longer we'd been dead now."
"Death comes quickly in war," remarked Jacques. "It hangs by a thread
and you never can tell when it is going to strike you."
They soon reached the spot where their company was located and along
with the rest of those who were off duty were immediately ordered into
the deepest of the shell-proof dug-outs, where they were really quite
safe.
"We're in for it, I guess," remarked Dubois laconically, as Jacques and
Leon entered the dug-out. Earl and Armande were also there.
"Sure we are," exclaimed the latter brightly. "What of it?"
"There'll be a lot of our men killed."
"Not half as many as there will be Boches," said Armande. "Just wait
until they send their infantry out; our machine-guns will make them
wish they were back in their trenches."
"You're an optimist, Armande," said Earl. "Just listen to those shells
up there."
"The Boches will come out about dark," said Armande. "We might just as
well sleep until then."
"Not with that going on," exclaimed Leon. "At least not for me."
An hour later they were all ordered out. Every man had on a mask to
guard against the poisonous gas that the Germans used so frequently
just before they launched their attacks. Oftentimes too they would
shower the opposing trenches with shells, causing irritation and
smarting of the eyes so that the men could not see to shoot. Now and
again they used liquid fire which shot out half a hundred feet from
especially made machines somewhat resembling the nozzle of a hose.
The surprising thing is that the French could withstand all those
terrible engines of destruction. Sheer courage had helped them the
first time they were used and after that they were always provided with
some good means of defense. The French are remarkably quick to learn.
It was dark as the men came up out of the dug-out. They had scarcely
taken their places when there was a sudden hurricane of rifle and
machine-gun fire. Almost instantly the whole battered landscape became
lighted up under the flare of innumerable trench-rockets. Far ahead,
the enemy, in irregular lines, could be seen advancing to the attack.
"Here they come," cried Armande. "Let 'em have it!"
A pitiless infantry fire was turned upon the Germans. An almost solid
sheet of flame issuing from the French rifles marked the curve of their
trenches. Almost at once the French artillery caught the range of the
advancing troops; the air was filled with the roar of the bursting
shells and the sad-sounding _whing-g-g_ of flying shrapnel.
"No one can possibly come across that space alive," cried Leon
incredulously.
"Yes, they can too," exclaimed Armande and a moment later the sharp
staccato of a hand-grenade bursting nearby warned them that some of the
enemy at least were already within striking distance.
The men worked feverishly. Rifles became hot they were fired so fast
and so constantly. Hand-grenades were popping all around now and the
noise became deafening. Like gray ghosts the Germans appeared under
the flare of the guns and the weird light of the trench-rockets.
The French machine-guns mowed the Germans down like grass and the fact
that they still came on was a high tribute to their bravery. Gradually
the firing died down and the noise lessened. Broken and beaten back
the Germans turned and fled. A cheer went up from the French line,
while a farewell volley was poured into the mass of retreating Germans.
"What did I tell you?" demanded Armande triumphantly. "I knew they
couldn't touch us and I'd just like to see them try it again."
"It cost us something," said Earl.
"Yes, but not one-quarter of what it did them."
"I hope not," agreed Earl. "It always costs the attacker more."
The strain of the fight let down and a reaction set in. The ground was
strewn with the dead and dying and the moans of the wounded were
anything but pleasant to hear. During the fight every man nerves
himself to face whatever comes; afterwards there is sometimes a
complete swing to the other extreme.
Arms and legs stuck out from heaps of earth. Dead men lay all around;
blood was on everything. Nauseating odors filled the air. Suddenly
from a spot directly behind Earl came a sound that made his blood run
cold.
Lippen, the soldier who had fought so valiantly in the château,
suddenly sprang to his feet. He uttered a wild, hideous, hysterical
laugh and seizing an arm that protruded from the trench in front of him
he hurled it far out over the battlefield.
He shrieked raucously and then suddenly sat down and began to sob. His
companions gazed at him a moment in surprise and then in pity.
"What is it, Jacques?" demanded Earl. "What ails him?"
"He's crazy," said Jacques quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"He's gone insane; his nerves are shattered."
Lippen sat and sobbed; now and again he raised his head and gazed about
him and the look in his eyes showed that all his reason had departed.
"How awful!" exclaimed Earl with a shudder. "Do you suppose he'll ever
get well again?"
"It's hard to say," replied Jacques. "Sometimes they do and sometimes
they don't."
"I've heard about these things happening in the trenches," remarked
Leon. "This is the first case I've seen."
"There are a good many made the same way," said Jacques soberly. "The
terrible strain and the awful slaughter affect men's nerves so that
they sometimes go entirely to pieces. It is very sad."
"It's horrible!" muttered Earl with a shudder.
"For my part I'd rather be killed," said Leon.
Attendants came and led poor Lippen away. Perhaps with constant care
and prolonged quiet his shattered nerves might mend. At any rate he
was but one small part of the army and the war must go on whether he
was gone or not. Of course all would be done for him that was
possible, but after all one man more or less is a very tiny part of a
big army. If sympathy was expended on every pitiful case there would
not be much time left for fighting.
As the soldiers crouched behind the parapet Captain Le Blanc approached
the spot where Jacques was seated.
"Private Dineau," he said, "I understand that you are an aviator."
"Yes, sir," exclaimed Jacques, quickly springing to his feet and
saluting.
"You were once attached to the flying corps?"
"Yes, sir."
"You think you can still drive an aeroplane?"
"I am sure of it, sir."
"Very good," said the captain. "Come with me."