A CLOSE CALL
Like two gigantic wrestlers locked together, the two armies swayed from
side to side, fighting with the utmost desperation. The Germans were
using some of their best divisions, and although the attack had taken
them somewhat by surprise, they had rallied and were hurrying up dense
ranks to reinforce those who had been holding the first line.
They themselves had a few tanks on this portion of the front, and these
were hurried into action at once. But it soon became apparent that they
could not hold their own with those that the Americans were using. In
the usual German way, they had relied too much on size and they had
overdone it. The tanks were monstrous but they were too unwieldy and
too slow. Nor were they managed with the skill that was displayed by
the Americans.
“Our fellows make theirs look like thirty cents,” said Joe, as one by
one the German tanks were put out of action.
“There goes one of ours though!” exclaimed Mac. “See, it’s tumbling
into that trench.”
“It isn’t falling in, you boob!” exclaimed Joe. “It’s going in of its
own accord. It means to clean out the trench. See, the Germans are
scrambling out of it already and running like rabbits.”
“They show good judgment,” remarked Blake grimly. “Listen to the rattle
of the tank’s machine guns! I have a hunch that trench is an unhealthy
place for Heinies just about now.”
“Let’s creep forward and take a look at it,” said Joe. “What do you
say, Blake? Are you game?”
“I don’t take a dare,” answered Blake. “Sure, I’ll go. Mac, you keep at
that crank till we get back.”
Macaroni grumbled a little under his breath, but obeyed, and the moving
picture boys, taking advantage of what shelter they could find, hurried
toward the trench which was only a few yards away.
Through the smoke that hung like a cloud over it, they saw the tank,
having fulfilled its errand, go lumbering along the bottom and commence
to climb the slope of the farther side.
Right in front of it lay a wounded German officer, whom the boys could
see by his uniform was a major. He saw the tank approaching him and
tried to crawl out of its way, but was unable to and fell back with a
groan.
The boys were horror-stricken, for they expected to see him crushed
to death beneath the tank. But someone in the tank had observed the
wounded man and the tank suddenly stopped, the door at the side opened
and two men sprang out, lifted up the wounded officer and handed him
in. The door closed and the tank resumed its climb.
The boys breathed a sigh of relief.
“There’s the American of it!” exclaimed Blake. “Our boys don’t war
against wounded men.”
“Yes,” agreed Joe. “Do you think a German tank commander would have
done the same? Perhaps he would, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“I think you’re right,” said Blake. “But now let’s get back to Mac.”
They crept back and reached the crater in comparative safety, much
to the relief of Charlie, who had faithfully kept the crank turning,
whenever a worth-while scene was enacted. And it had not been the
easiest matter in the world, for it had to be turned at just a certain
rate of speed and Mac was boiling like the others with the excitement
of the fighting.
The battle in that part of the field was now nearly over. The first
lines had been captured by the Americans and the enemy was retreating
to his second-line positions. He was doing it sullenly and making
occasional stands to delay the Americans until reinforcements could
come up.
“I think we’d better get on further ahead,” judged Blake, as the tide
of battle receded. “We want to keep in touch with the hottest parts of
the action and things are quieting down right here. Take the camera,
Mac, and give me the tripod and we’ll go along. This battle is making
history and I don’t want to miss a bit of it.”
There was no demur from his comrades and they hastily got their machine
in hand and hurried on after the tanks.
Soon they had caught up with some of them and saw that they were
preparing for another dash ahead. They saw the reason for it, too, in a
new division that the Germans had thrown into the fight and which was
advancing in close ranks for a counter-attack.
But the Americans did not await the shock of their onset. Their blood
was up and they started forward to meet the advancing enemy.
“There’s a beautiful scrap coming or I miss my guess,” said Blake,
as they hastily set up the camera. “Those Germans haven’t learned
their lesson yet and they’re coming after more. They’re gluttons for
punishment.”
“They’ll get all the fight they’re looking for,” said Joe. “Get a
focus on the tanks, Mac. There they go now.”
“They seem to be on fire!” exclaimed Mac in sudden alarm. “Look at the
smoke coming from them.”
“Fire nothing!” snorted Blake. “They’re just throwing out smoke
screens. That hides our boys behind them from being seen by the enemy,
and the Heinie batteries don’t know where to aim.”
Great billows of black smoke were coming from the tanks as they
ploughed their way forward. It spread out behind them until the whole
country seemed to be enveloped in the gloom of a forest fire. And the
illusion was heightened by the tongues of flame that began now to shoot
through the smoke as the machine guns of the tanks again came in action
against the gray-clad host against which they were advancing.
“That means death to the Huns, and it means death to the pictures,
too,” said Blake, his professional instinct coming to the fore.
“We can’t see very much through that smoke,” admitted Joe. “But it
means the saving of lots of American lives, and that’s worth all the
pictures in the world.”
“Right you are,” agreed Blake heartily. “Somebody was telling me the
other day that since the tanks began to be used the Allies were only
losing one soldier where before that time they’d lost thirty-six.
There’s many a bullet rattling against the sides of the tanks that
would find a doughboy’s heart if the tank wasn’t there. See the way
the boys are following behind the tanks! They’re like so many suits of
armor.”
“Well, how about the pictures?” put in Charlie. “I might as well stop
if we’re going to stay here. I’m not registering much else than smoke.”
“On we go then,” said Blake. “Come along. We’ll be in Berlin soon if we
keep on the move.”
Once more they moved forward, but now on account of the smoke the going
was more difficult than before. There was hardly any breeze stirring,
and the smoke, instead of drifting away, hung heavy on the field.
Before them they could see groups of men engaged in desperate combats,
while the tanks, like great bulls, plunged here and there, their
machine guns working rapidly and doing tremendous execution.
Stumbling along over the shell-torn ground, the boys sought a place
where they could command a view of the action. But this was difficult,
and while they were searching, the smoke suddenly lifted, and, to
their amazement and consternation, they saw a whole company of Germans
bearing down upon them.
There seemed no way of escape, and visions of sudden death or a German
prison loomed up before their startled eyes.
Blake looked about him with desperation.
“Here comes a tank!” he yelled. “Let’s run to meet it!”
They set off in its direction, while bullets from the pursuing Germans
whistled about their ears. The tank was coming toward them as fast as
the ponderous machine could travel, although to the boys it seemed to
be crawling. But its bullets were swift, if its pace was comparatively
slow, and it soon opened fire on the boys’ pursuers, who were beginning
to waver as they saw the huge monster bearing down upon them.
The moving picture boys were almost breathless from running, but they
just managed to get on the further side of the tank as a volley of
bullets rattled against the side of it.
“Safe for the time, anyway,” gasped Blake, as he sank down on the
ground, still holding in his arms the box of precious films that in all
the excitement he had not forgotten to bring along.
“No, we’re not!” cried Joe. “Here comes a German aeroplane with its
guns all going like mad.”
They looked in the direction he indicated, and saw a big plane swooping
down toward them with sheets of flame spouting from the four guns that
the newest German planes carried.
“We’re goners now!” exclaimed Mac.
But just then the door in the side of the tank opened and a man leaped
out, whom, though he was covered with sweat and grime, they recognized
as their tank acquaintance of a few days before.
“Come in,” he cried. “Quick!”
They needed no urging. They bundled inside in a confused heap and the
closing of that door was the sweetest music they had ever heard.
It was not a comfortable place. They were horribly cramped for room,
for almost every foot of space was occupied by machinery or the
sweating bodies of the crew, who were busy in controlling the machine
and operating the guns. The rattling of bullets against the metal sides
sounded like a boiler factory in full blast and the lurching of the
tank made them feel seasick. But it meant life and safety and freedom,
and no haven of refuge was ever more grateful.
Gradually the tumult grew less, the bullets ceased crashing against
the sides and the crew itself desisted from firing. The battle was
evidently over, or nearly so. Before long the tank stopped, and the
door was thrown open, letting in a draught of the cool September air
that had never seemed so refreshing. The boys piled out, together with
the crew, and their relief and delight can be imagined as they saw
friendly uniforms all around them and realized that they were inside
the American lines.
The boys were full of gratitude to their rescuer, but he waved off
their thanks with a friendly grin.
“All in the day’s work,” he remarked, as he stepped into the tank to
drive it back to his quarters. “By the way, how do you think the old
girl behaved to-day?”
“Fine and dandy,” replied Blake enthusiastically.
“It saved our lives,” declared Joe.
“That aeroplane would have finished us if you hadn’t taken us in,” said
Macaroni. “What became of that aeroplane, anyway?”
“I didn’t see,” was the reply. “We might have winged it ourselves if it
had been flying a little lower, but as it was we couldn’t elevate our
guns enough to reach it. Well, so long and good luck;” and the big tank
lumbered away.
“We’ve had many a close call,” remarked Blake, after they had watched
the tank out of sight, “but if you ask me, the closest of all was the
one we had to-day.”