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THE RED CROSS GIRLS WITH PERSHING TO VICTORY
[Illustration: NONA]
The Red Cross Girls With Pershing to Victory
By
MARGARET VANDERCOOK
Author of "The Ranch Girls Series," "Stories
about Camp Fire Girls Series," etc.
Illustrated
The John C. Winston Company
Philadelphia
Copyright, 1919, by
THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. WITH THE AMERICAN ARMY IN FRANCE 7
II. A LATE RECRUIT 24
III. TOWARD GERMANY 33
IV. LUXEMBURG 55
V. SHOALS 66
VI. THE RIDE 77
VII. AN UNEXPECTED SITUATION 85
VIII. THE COUNTESS'S STORY 98
IX. "LIFE'S LITTLE IRONIES" 110
X. THE TALK WITH SONYA 123
XI. THE JOURNEY TO COBLENZ 132
XII. NEW YEAR'S EVE IN COBLENZ 142
XIII. A WALK ALONG THE RIVER BANK 158
XIV. MAJOR JAMES HERSEY 169
XV. A RE-ENTRANCE 183
XVI. A GROWING FRIENDSHIP 195
XVII. FAITH AND UNFAITH 212
XVIII. RECONCILIATION 228
XIX. A WARNING 237
XX. NORA JAMISON EXPLAINS 245
XXI. THE RAINBOW BRIDGE 256
THE RED CROSS GIRLS WITH PERSHING TO VICTORY
CHAPTER I
_With The American Army in France_
IT was a bright winter day near the middle of November, the ground hard
with frost and light flurries of snow in the air.
Over the sloping French countryside thousands of brown tents arose like
innumerable, giant anthills, while curling above certain portions of the
camp were long columns of smoke. American soldiers were walking about in
a leisurely fashion, or standing in groups talking. Some of them were
engaged in cleaning their guns or other military accoutrements, a number
were investigating their kits.
Near one of the camp fires a private was singing to the accompaniment of
a guitar and a banjo played by two other soldiers, with a fairly large
crowd surrounding them. "Johnny get your gun, we've the Hun on the run."
Over the entire American camp there was an atmosphere of relaxation, of
cheerfulness, of duty accomplished. The eleventh of November having
passed, with the armistice signed, the American soldiers in France were
now awaiting orders either to return home to the United States or else
to march toward the Rhine. In this particular neighborhood of
Chateau-Thierry no word had yet been received as to what units were to
form a part of the American Army of Occupation, only the information
that the units were to be chosen with regard to their military
accomplishments since their arrival in France.
Therefore the heroes of Chateau-Thierry and of Belleau Woods, of St.
Mihiel and the Argonne Forest were ready to accept whatever fate sent,
"Home," or "The Watch on the Rhine."
Finally ending his song the singer stood up; he was wearing the uniform
of the United States Marines.
"I say don't stop singing, Navara. What's a fellow to do these days
without your music, when we have no longer the noise of the cannon or
the shrieking of guns overhead as a substitute?" one of the group of
soldiers exclaimed. "The quiet has come so suddenly it is almost as hard
to grow accustomed to it, as it once was to the infernal racket."
"Oh, Navara is expecting visitors, feminine visitors. Some people have
all the luck!" Corporal Donald Hackett protested, placing his banjo in
its case and also rising. He spoke with a slight southern drawl and was
a tall, fair young fellow with brilliant blue eyes, and both his hair
and skin burned red by exposure to the outdoors.
"Come along then and be introduced to my friends; a good many of you
fellows know them already," Carlo Navara answered. "Mrs. David Clark and
six Red Cross nurses are motoring over from the Red Cross hospital. I
suppose you have been told that sometime this afternoon half a dozen of
our men are to be cited. An officer is coming from headquarters to
represent the commander in chief, and present the medals. In a short
time we must be ready for inspection."
Moving off together the two men formed an interesting contrast.
Carlo Navara was dark, a little below medium height, with closely cut
brown hair, rather extraordinary black eyes and an olive skin.
The young singer, an American of Italian ancestry, had first fought
among the snow-clad hills of Italy. Wounded, he had afterwards returned
to the United States, where a great career as a singer was opening
before him. Then the desire to fight in France had driven him to
surrender his art and to serve as a volunteer in the marine corps.
A moment later the two men disappeared within their tents. An automobile
with the Red Cross insignia soon after drove up before one of the
entrances to the camp where a sentry stood guard.
Stepping out of it first came a woman, youthful of face and form, but
whose hair was nearly white, her eyes a deep blue with dark lashes, and
her color a bright crimson from her drive through the winter air.
Following her immediately was a young girl, scarcely eighteen years old,
who was small and fair with pale blonde hair and surprisingly dark brown
eyes. Both the woman and girl were wearing heavy fur coats and small
hats fitting close down over their hair.
The older woman was Mrs. David Clark, the wife of the chief surgeon of
the Red Cross hospital which was situated a few miles from the present
camp. Before her marriage which had taken place only a little more than
six months before, she had been Sonya Valesky.
The young girl was her ward, Bianca Zoli.
"I declare, Sonya, I don't see how you always manage to get ahead of the
rest of us considering your advanced years," another girl exclaimed,
jumping out of the car and slipping on the icy ground until her older
friend caught firm hold of her.
"Do be careful, Nona Davis, and don't be humorous until you are more
sure of your footing," Sonya Clark replied. "You know when you return to
New York I want Captain Martin to find you as well as when you said
goodby to him. But have you Dr. Clark's note to the officer of the day?
I'll ask the sentry to take it in to him."
During the few moments Mrs. Clark and Nona Davis were talking, four
other Red Cross nurses had followed their example and were out of the
automobile. They were now walking up and down on the frozen road for
warmth and exercise.
They were Mildred Thornton and her sister-in-law, Barbara Thornton, who
had been doing Red Cross nursing in nearly every one of the allied
countries since the outbreak of the great war.
The other two girls had been nursing in France only for the past year.
One of them, Ruth Carroll, was taller than any of her companions and
strongly built, with dusky hair and grey eyes set wide apart. Her
companion was tiny, with bright red hair, rather nondescript features
and a few freckles, in spite of the season of the year, upon her
upturned nose. Yet Theodosia Thompson, with her full red lips, her
small, even white teeth and her dancing light blue eyes under a fringe
of reddish brown lashes, was by no means plain.
"Aren't you praying every moment, Ruth, that we may be ordered forward
with the army of occupation into Germany? Personally I shall not be
happy until I see with my own eyes the Germans actually tasting the
bitterness of defeat. I made a vow to myself that I would not go back
home until General Pershing had led our troops to victory, and a real
victory means the stars and stripes floating over a portion of the
German country."
The older and larger of the two American girls smiled a slow, gentle
smile characteristic of her personality and in sharp contrast with her
companion's impetuous speech and action.
Both girls were Kentuckians and had been friends for years before
sailing to do Red Cross work in France.
"Well, I have never been so fierce a character as you, Thea! To me
victory will seem assured the day peace is signed. Yet if any of the
divisions of soldiers among whom we have been nursing are ordered to
Germany, certainly I hope our Red Cross unit may accompany them. I
presume not nearly so many nurses will be needed as in the fighting
days, however."
In the interval, while this conversation was taking place, Mrs. Clark's
note had been dispatched to the officer of the day. At this moment Major
Hersey appeared.
Major James Hersey, confidentially known among his battalion as "Jimmie"
had the distinction of being one of the youngest majors in the United
States army, and to his own regret was not only less than twenty-five
years old but looked even younger.
"I am so awfully glad to see you, Mrs. Clark," he began, blushing
furiously without apparent reason, as he spoke, which was an
uncomfortable habit.
"I want you to congratulate me. We have just had a telephone message
from headquarters saying that we are to form a part of the first big
unit of the American army occupational force. We are to begin to move
toward Germany at half past five o'clock Sunday morning, and I am
tremendously pleased. Our orders are to march two days and rest three
and our troops will move on a front of fifty miles for two weeks when we
expect to reach the Rhine. But forgive my enthusiasm, Mrs. Clark. You
are the first person to whom I have told the good news. Even the men
don't know yet. You'll say hurrah with me." Major Hersey ended boyishly,
forgetting military etiquette in his enthusiasm. He had a round,
youthful face, curly light brown hair and eyes of nearly the same shade.
Later, when Sonya had offered her congratulations, insisting, however,
that she was not surprised by the news if military accomplishment had
been considered, she and Major Hersey led the way into the American camp
in the neighborhood of Chateau-Thierry followed by the six American
girls.
Half an hour afterwards the same information had been disseminated
throughout the camp. Lieutenant-Colonel Townsend had also arrived to
award the citations and the Distinguished Service Crosses to the
officers and soldiers who had merited the distinction.
Never were Sonya Clark and the six Red Cross nurses to forget this,
their last picture of an American camp in France before the great
movement of the victorious army toward the Rhine.
The clouds of the earlier afternoon had grown heavier and more snow was
falling in larger flakes, so that the earth was covered with a thin
white carpet.
A cold wind was blowing across the winter fields.
The American soldiers stood in long, even lines, erect, rugged and
efficient.
Sonya and her group of Red Cross nurses managed to protect themselves a
little from the cold by standing behind a group of officers and near one
of the officer's tents, not far from Lieutenant-Colonel Townsend and
Major Hersey. They were the only women in the camp at the present time.
Therefore the only feminine applause emanated from them when the first
young officer came forward to receive his citation from the hands of the
Commanding Officer.
First Lieutenant Leon De Funiak was a young French officer who had been
attached to a division of the United States Marines.
In the name of the President he was presented with the Distinguished
Service Cross for extraordinary heroism in action near St. Mihiel on
September 12 when with excellent courage he had captured a machine gun
which he turned upon an adjoining trench forcing the enemy occupants to
surrender.
The second award was made to Corporal Donald Hackett, a friend of Carlo
Navara's and an acquaintance of the Red Cross girls. Later, two
citations were given to privates with whom they had no acquaintance.
The afternoon sun was disappearing and the wind growing colder.
Bianca Zoli, who stood between her guardian and Nona Davis, shivered.
Unconscious of what she was doing she also gave a little sigh due to
fatigue and cold. Younger than her companions she was also more fragile
in appearance.
Her guardian now turned toward her.
"I am sorry, Bianca, you are worn out. I am afraid you should not have
come with us. Yet it is impossible to leave now until the citations are
over."
At this same moment, another name was being announced by the Commanding
Officer. Instantly Bianca Zoli's manner and appearance changed. Her
cheeks became a warm crimson, her dark eyes glowed, her lips even
trembled slightly although she held the lower one firm with her small
white teeth.
The name called was Private Carlo Navara. The Distinguished Service
Cross was his award. Early in the previous July he had crossed as a spy
into the enemy's lines and there secured information which had proved of
extraordinary value to the commander in chief of the allied armies.
Half an hour later, returning to the Red Cross hospital, which lay a few
miles behind the American camp, Bianca Zoli sat wrapped in a rug for
further warmth, yet her expression had continued radiant. With her pale
fair hair blowing from underneath her fur cap, her eyes deep and dark
and happy underneath a little fringe of snow which had fallen and clung
to her long lashes, she looked oddly pretty.
"Do you think, Sonya, that Carlo knew he was to be cited this
afternoon?" she demanded. "He has always said that his own share in the
expedition into the German lines last summer was a failure and that the
success was entirely due Lieutenant Wainwright, Mildred Thornton's
fiance. Has Carlo spoken to you on the subject recently? Had he been
told he was to be decorated?"
A little absently the older woman nodded, at the present moment she was
thinking of other matters even more absorbing than Carlo Navara's recent
honor, proud as she felt of her friend.
Earlier in the day her husband, Dr. David Clark, the surgeon in charge
of the Red Cross hospital, had confided in her that a unit of his
nurses and physicians were to follow the American army to the frontiers
of Germany. Dr. Clark had also asked his wife's advice with regard to
the nurses who had best accompany them. Therefore, all the afternoon,
with her subconscious mind Sonya had been endeavoring to meet and
unravel this personal problem, at the same time she shared in the
interest of the military ceremony to which she had been a witness.
"Yes, I believe Carlo did know what he might expect Bianca," she
answered finally. "At least he told me a day or so ago he had received
some word that there was to be some public recognition of his deed. I
suppose Carlo did not like to discuss the matter generally as he is a
more modest soldier than he is an artist."
The younger girl flushed.
"Just the same I should think Carlo might also have confided in me. I
wonder if he will ever realize that you are not the best friend he has
in the world, even if he does continue to think so."
The older woman smiled without replying.
Sonya knew that some day Bianca would recover from her childish jealous
relation between herself and Carlo Navara.
Of late Carlo, himself, had grown entirely sensible, appreciating the
fact that her marriage had ended forever his mistaken romantic
attachment for a woman so much older than himself, to whose kindness in
caring for him during his illness in Italy he believed he owed so much.
Moreover, Sonya's attention was soon engaged in watching the storm.
During the past two hours the snow fall had been growing heavier until
now it lay thick along the road and was blown into drifts by the
roadside. The wind was swirling in fierce gusts and forming whirlwinds
of snow in unexpected places. Save for the lights in their motor car the
way was nearly dark, as daylight had almost completely disappeared.
Cautiously, although driving his car at a fairly rapid pace, the
chauffeur was speeding toward the hospital. Then suddenly without
warning he stopped his car so abruptly that its occupants were thrown
forward out of their seats.
"What is it, what has happened?" Sonya Clark asked, as soon as she had
recovered sufficient breath, then opening the door of the closed car she
peered out into the snow-covered road.
A little beyond she was able to see an object lying in the road only a
few feet beyond their car.
In the semi-darkness and at the distance, with the snow forming a thick
veil between, it was impossible to tell just what the object might be.
Partly covered with snow and showing no sign of movement it was probably
an animal that had gone astray and been frozen in the November storm.
Quickly Sonya got out of the car followed by Mildred Thornton and Ruth
Carroll, the other girls remaining in the automobile at her request.
The chauffeur joined them.
The next moment the four of them were bending over the figure of a young
girl, who was wearing a close fitting cap and a long dark blue coat,
and sewed on her sleeve a small Red Cross.
Yet when Sonya spoke to her, she showed no sign of being able to reply
and made no movement, not even to the raising of her lashes. When the
chauffeur lifted and placed her inside the car she still seemed
unconscious.
"I think we had best go on to the hospital at once," Sonya commanded.
"We are not more than a few moments' journey and whatever should be done
for this girl can be better accomplished there."