A TASTE OF COLD STEEL
Planted at intervals in the trench were rows of iron stakes, coming to a
sharp point at the top and cunningly camouflaged so that they would not
be detected by any one looking over the edge. The Army boys were not
slow in seeing the meaning of the trap and the fiendish ingenuity that
had conceived it.
"It's a dummy trench!" murmured Corporal Wilson. "The idea is to have
their men seem to retreat into it when the fighting takes place on this
part of the line. Our boys come on in pursuit, jump over the edge, come
down on these sharp stakes and are spitted like larks. Nice way to wage
war, that!"
"It's worthy of the Hun," growled Tom.
"And when you've said that you've reached the limit," observed Bart.
"The Turks are pretty good at torture," murmured Frank bitterly, "but
they must feel like thirty cents when they compare themselves with their
German masters."
"Let's get these things out of the way," said Billy wrathfully, as he
grasped one of the spikes.
But the corporal stopped him instantly. "Don't dig them out!" he cried.
"There's no knowing but what you may cause an explosion. Or they may
have some electric connection that will give warning to the Boches.
We've spotted the location of this infernal trap and that's enough. Our
officers will see that our men steer clear of it."
"Of course," remarked Bart, "all the value to the Huns of this trap
depends upon our boys jumping in from the top of the trench. If they
came in from the entrance to the dugout, all the trouble of planting
these spikes would be thrown away."
"It would be a trap just the same, only in a different way," replied the
corporal. "It's a safe bet that the Germans have machine guns planted
where they can sweep the whole length of this part of the trench. They'd
wait until our boys were all crowded in here and then the machine guns
would start spitting and wipe every last one of them out. There'd be no
way to get put except the way they had come in, and no one could get
through that storm of bullets. But now let's get out of this while the
going's good."
The conversation had been carried on in the faintest whispers, and after
the first hurried examination of the dummy trench there had been no
light. But they all felt better when they had passed out of the trench
without mishap and lay on the ground above. Here they were at least in
the open, and if death came to them they would not be slaughtered like
rats in a trap.
The corporal consulted his radio watch and found that it wanted but two
hours to dawn.
"Not much time left, boys," he murmured. "And unless we get back to our
lines before daylight, we'll stand a good chance of losing the number of
our mess. But if we don't do anything else, we've done a pretty fair
night's work. The finding of this dummy trench will put a crimp in the
Heinies' plans. I'd like to have some prisoners to take along just for
luck but all we've bagged is that sentry."
"Perhaps we haven't even got him," suggested Frank. "Some of his
comrades may have found him by this time."
"Not likely," replied Bart. "He couldn't make a noise, and as we left
him outside the wire they wouldn't be likely to stumble over him."
"All the same, we'd better get a hustle on," replied the corporal, and
they started on their homeward journey as stealthily as they had come.
They had some difficulty in finding the breach in the wire through which
they had entered, but at last they succeeded and wormed their way out.
Then they felt around for the sentry and found him in the place they had
left him. He had returned to consciousness, for when the corporal risked
a ray of his flashlight on the upturned face, they could see that his
eyes were open and looking at them intelligently.
The corporal placed the muzzle of his revolver against the man's neck as
a gentle reminder of what would happen to him if he should make a sound,
and they proceeded to untie his hands. Then they motioned to him that he
was to get on his hands and knees and go before them, which, with
muffled grunts, and after two or three attempts, he succeeded in doing.
He was evidently dazed yet and stiff from the cramped attitude in which
he had been lying, but stern necessity was on him and he finally wobbled
and staggered on before them.
They had got some little distance away from the wires when Frank
suddenly came to a dead stop. His comrades halted instantly.
"What is it?" whispered Wilson, who was nearest to him.
"That blur ahead of us," returned Frank. "It looks a little more solid
than the rest of the darkness."
He pointed ahead and a little to the right.
"I don't see anything," remarked Tom.
"Neither do I," affirmed Billy.
"I think I see a little blacker patch than usual," declared Bart. "And
it seems to be moving."
The corporal put his ear to the ground.
"I think Sheldon is right," he said, after a moment of intense
listening. "At any rate we'll take no chances. Slip into some of these
shell holes and lie low. If it should be an enemy patrol and there are
too many to tackle we'll let them go by. But if there aren't more than
double our number we'll take a crack at them. Keep your weapons ready
and let fly when I give the word."
The ground was so pitted with craters from the heavy artillery duel that
had been raging all the day before that they had no difficulty in
finding shelter. Their prisoner, who judged by the preparations that
some of his own comrades were approaching, was inclined to balk a little
and delay matters, but a vigorous push of Bart's boot hastened his
movements and he was tumbled in unceremoniously. And they blessed the
precaution that had still left the gag in his mouth when they had
unfastened his hands.
More and more the blur ahead of them detached itself from the
surrounding darkness, until even skeptical Tom and Billy knew that what
they saw was a body of men bearing down steadily in their direction.
Of course there was a chance that it was an American patrol out on an
errand similar to their own, but it was unlikely, if that were so, that
they would be going in the direction of the enemy's lines when the night
was so far spent.
Nearer and nearer came the party until not more than thirty feet lay
between them and the American boys who knelt in the shell holes, with
faces stern and set and fingers on the triggers of their rifles awaiting
the word of command.
But for some unknown reason the blur became motionless and remained so
for several minutes. Then it receded, as though the party had changed
its plan.
"What do you suppose is the matter with them?" whispered Tom. "Do you
think they've tumbled to our being here?"
"How could they?" returned Frank. "They'd have to have the eyes of cats
to see us in these holes."
"I hope the corp will let us go after them," murmured Billy. "I'm all
tuned up for a scrap."
Wilson hesitated. If he went after the supposed enemy, they would
probably hear him and he would lose the advantage of the surprise. On
the other hand, that they now seemed to be going in the direction of the
American lines might indicate that, after all, they were a patrol of his
own comrades. But while he weighed the chances, the question was solved
for him by the fact that the blur again became distinct. And this time
it grew larger very rapidly, indicating that the party had at last
reached a definite decision. On they came until only a few paces
separated them from the Army boys.
Just then a star shell rose from the German lines and sent a flare of
light stabbing the darkness and clearly revealing a dozen or more
Germans. As they were facing the glare they were momentarily dazzled by
it, and the Americans peering beneath their black hoods on a level with
the ground could have easily escaped detection had they been so
inclined.
But that instantaneous flash had decided the corporal. The odds were
more than two to one, but such odds as that was only a challenge to
Yankee fighting blood.
"Fire!" he shouted, and five rifles spoke as one. Three of the enemy
went down as though stricken by an axe, and another staggered and his
rifle clattered to the ground.
But the enemy rallied almost instantly, and at a hoarse command there
was a return volley. This proved harmless, however, for the boys knew
that it would come and bent beneath the edge of the craters until the
iron storm had swept over them.
"Now, boys, at them with your bayonets!" shouted Corporal Wilson, as
soon as he had drawn the enemy's fire.
With a leap the American squad was on the level ground and rushing with
leveled bayonets at the foe.
The Americans had the advantage of the surprise, and their headlong
charge would have won instantly if the forces had been equal. But
although two went down at once, the others, after yielding ground
somewhat, closed in a death grip with their assailants, and there was a
furious combat at close quarters.
There was no more shooting. It was a matter now of clubbed rifles and
bayonet thrusts.
Frank found himself engaged in a bayonet duel with a massive German who
towered above him in height and probably outweighed him by twenty
pounds. He was well trained too in bayonet work and was a most
formidable opponent.
But he met his master when he crossed bayonets with Frank. The latter
had made himself expert by long training under skilful French
instructors, and, besides, was the most finished boxer in the regiment.
At thrust and parry, feint and riposte, advance and retreat, he stood
first among his comrades.
Against the furious bull-like rushes of his opponent, he opposed a
quickness and agility that more than counterbalanced his enemy's weight
It was a contest of a bull against a panther, and the panther won.
For perhaps two minutes the fight continued. Then with a lightning
thrust Frank's bayonet found its mark, and the German staggered for a
moment, fell headlong and lay still.
His fall seemed to take the heart out of the others who were being
outfought and pressed back. They wavered, broke and started to flee, but
the sharp crack of the corporal's revolver brought one of them to the
ground, and the others halted.
Up went their hands and from the lips of each came the cry "_Kamerad_!"
in token of surrender.
The American boys rounded them up and disarmed them. Then the corporal
took account of stock.
Bart was there panting and flushed with nothing worse than a scalp wound
where a rifle butt had glanced from his head. Wilson himself was unhurt.
Billy also had come through unscathed, but Tom was nowhere to be seen.
An awful fear, a fear that they had never felt in the fighting itself,
clutched the hearts of his comrades. Good old Tom, bound to them by a
thousand ties of friendship and comradeship--had he met his fate in this
desolate stretch of No Man's Land?
Frantically they searched among the bodies for one that wore a suit
similar to their own. Frank found it first. His hand went to the heart
and to his joy found that it was beating.
He lifted Tom's head and rested it on his knee.
"Tom! Tom!" he called, as he chafed his chum's hands and loosened his
suit at the throat.
Tom's eyes slowly opened, and, recognizing his friend, a faint smile
came to his lips. But he did not speak, and Bart, who was the only other
one who could be spared from guarding the prisoners, joined Frank in
redoubled efforts to bring Tom back to full consciousness.
"He doesn't seem to have any bones broken," said Frank after a hurried
examination.
"And he isn't bleeding," replied Bart. "But he has a lump on his head as
big as an egg."
At last Tom's full consciousness returned, and with his chums'
assistance he got slowly and painfully to his feet.
"Guess they haven't got my number yet, but they came mighty near it," he
said, trying to grin. "I'd just run one of the Huns through the arm when
I saw another out of the tail of my eye swinging for my head with his
rifle. I tried to dodge, but he must have been too quick for me, for
that's the last I remember."
"Thank heaven it was no worse!" ejaculated Frank fervently.
"It would have been a mighty bad thing for us if you had cashed in, old
boy," said Bart with feeling. "How did the scrap turn out?" asked Tom.
"Though I suppose there's no use in asking, or you wouldn't be here
taking care of me."
"We trimmed them good and proper," said Frank, from whom a ton's weight
had been lifted by finding that his friend had escaped serious injury.
"A lovely scrap," added Bart. "I wouldn't have missed it for a farm.
We've wiped out five and rounded out the rest. Let's go over and see how
many there are."
"Eight," announced the corporal, as he counted the prisoners who stood
in a group sullen and morose. "There must have been a baker's dozen in
the party."
"I don't know how superstitious they may be," chuckled Billy, "but I'll
bet that from now on they'll agree that thirteen is an unlucky number!"