THE ADVANCE CONTINUES
A runner found Major Drew and delivered an order to dig in.
Meanwhile, darkness had blotted out all but the trees, and between the
bark of the "heavies" (heavy artillery), the marines caught the
deep-throated roll of thunder. A soldier who has had two months of open
work or outdoor warfare, in which artillery had played the leading role,
has to be very tired to ignore an order to dig in a scant kilometer back
of the first line, the worst spot on the field.
The marines dug in.
When nature's storm broke the troops meekly rolled up in their ponchos,
dropped to the ground and asleep. The closing misery of that day came in
the shape of rain. But it did not keep the tired marines awake.
Before dawn next morning, the troops were up, standing by, awaiting the
barrage. The last tanks that had found shelter in the woods the
preceding day had trundled away before dawn. Nothing was now left to
divert the attention of the men from gnawing stomachs. The men tightened
their belts again and tried to concentrate on the work to come.
At four-thirty o'clock in the morning there was an explosion. It never
wavered. It lasted for hours without interruption. The earth shook up
and down and sideways. The very foundation of the Teutonic dynasties
must have trembled. It shook the leaves off the trees.
Forgotten were parched throats and empty stomachs. The troops fairly
revelled in the cannonading, for they felt that they would soon have a
hand in the fight.
Two hours later, the guns still thundering, the marines started up the
road on which the Frenchman had flagged Hal the night before. A hundred
yards beyond where he had encountered the marines lay a dead German.
Near him was a machine gun placed to command that road.
This road was a replica of other roads. If anything, the congestion was
worse than it had been the day before.
Huge trees, uprooted by giant shells, required detours while the
engineers worked like beavers to clear away the massive tops. Reserve
tanks and artillery lined either side of the road. Ambulances now mixed
with the various wagons of war.
Weaving in and out through the traffic came the walking wounded; Germans
bearing improvised stretchers and batches of from ten to twenty
prisoners. The air was peopled with aeroplanes. The sharp chatter of
machine guns occasionally rose above the rumble of the artillery.
In their first encounter of any moment with the Boche the marines
learned many things. They learned that the German infantry had a horror
of hand-to-hand fighting, and would run or surrender rather than try
such combat. They learned that the sole protection of the Boche
artillery lay in the effectiveness of front-line machine guns and its
own accuracy. They came to believe the backbone of the German infantry
was its artillery. Such a situation in any army, they knew, must have a
demoralizing effect. The infantry should be the backbone of the
artillery.
Meantime the American battalion to which Hal and Chester were attached
took up a position at the edge of the woods and awaited orders. After
the first excitement had passed, the attention of the troops fell back
to their empty stomachs. They counted again the hours since their last
meal. They totalled forty-two. For that many years, it seemed, they had
been without food, sleep and water rations, and had worked as men had
never worked before.
Then the miracle happened. A big truck drew up by the roadside and began
to dump boxes--boxes of canned beef, tomatoes, prunes and bread. Fifteen
minutes later there were a thousand happy marines in that section,
ravenously gulping down a real "feed" and quenching their thirst.
But war considers no man's pleasure. In the midst of the feast came the
rattle and clatter of machine guns, temporarily acting as aerial
defense.
Came sweeping down from the sky four aeroplanes, directly over where Hal
and Chester stood conversing.
"The Iron Cross!" cried Sergeant Bowers.
Under the command of their officers, the men grabbed their rifles.
"Hold on!" cried one, as the men were about to fire at the nearest
machine. "It's a Frenchman."
It was true, but it became apparent a moment later that there still
would be need for weapons, for in the wake of the French craft followed
three German machines.
Points in aerial battle at close range come and go too quickly for
recognition almost.
The clever Frenchman was outwitting the Boche pilot. The four planes
whirled directly over the heads of the marines, a hundred feet from the
ground, the Frenchman a few yards ahead and lowest. They cleared the
tops of the trees and circled over a field ahead. The Boches poured lead
upon the handicapped Frenchman, who desperately turned the nose of his
craft upward. The Germans must have been looking for such a move. They
elevated and closed in on him.
A fierce battle of machine guns; a plane dropped nose foremost. Straight
down it came, then--within twenty feet of the ground--the French pilot,
with superb daring, jerked his machine to a level keel and sailed off,
clipping the heads off the grain.
The German machines hovered over the spot where it seemed the French
pilot must meet disaster, and the marines opened fire on them with their
rifles. Each time the Germans approached closer, they were driven off,
for it was certain that an American bullet sooner or later must find a
vital spot.
The German machines turned and made off.
Now came orders for the marines to dig in. Soon every man had a hole.
Later in the day these holes were abandoned and the marines marched to
positions nearer the front line.
Hal's detachment came to a crossroad and turned to the right. From there
the lad could see the broad expanse of country beyond. It was all fields
of waving grain, streams of men, of horses and artillery.
They cut across an enormous field of wheat. On their right lay a French
plane, apparently none the worse for its adventure. To the left lay a
big German plane. Beside it were the bodies of two men--the pilot and
the gunner.
"Here they come!" shouted Sergeant Bowers suddenly.
Hal looked ahead and saw a column of men--Germans--marching toward the
Americans four abreast.
Apparently there was no end to that column. At least twenty officers
were at the head of it. They appeared to be the happiest men in sight,
and well they might be, for for them the days of war were over. They
were prisoners.
The marines moved forward again.
They passed a line of batteries, famous French "75's," pounding,
pounding. Over the country ahead, Hal counted five hangars, or what had
been aeroplane hangars. Now they were grotesquely twisted steel
skeletons, deserted by the enemy. The troops passed through a small
village, into another wheat field, formed for attack, and halted.
They occupied a knoll. On the slope below was a line of queer looking
dots. In the hollow proper were three "75" batteries. Up to the left
were still more batteries. Hal searched the landscape with his eyes
carefully. Ahead he saw his target.
It was on the farthest hill. The last rays of the sun outlined it
clearly. It was the long line of tanks, which the Huns had brought into
the fight as substitutes, their artillery having been captured. When Hal
first sighted them they were spitting fire from their one-pounders and
they were moving.
Half an hour later, under the fire from Americans and French, they were
in ruins, and through glasses Hal and Chester saw the German infantry
retiring past them. The French and American batteries rested.
"Now," said Hal to Chester, "if you ask me, here is where we should
continue our advance."
Chester shrugged.
"It seems that Marshal Foch has not decided yet that the time for an
offensive is ripe," he replied. "At the same time, I am not convinced
that we should attack right now. The two divisions of marines are
somewhat scattered, as you know, and are not in position to give each
other the necessary support. Then, too, we must be greatly outnumbered."
"What difference does that make?" Hal wanted to know. "They're running
now, aren't they? What's the matter with pushing them a little faster?"
Chester smiled.
"I'm going to recommend you as General Pershing's successor," he said.
"Is that so?" demanded Hal. "Let me tell you that it wasn't so long ago
I heard you advance ideas that you believed were better than any that
had occurred to the general staff."
Chester grinned.
"I guess we'll both make a couple of good generals some day," he said.
"But all joking aside, do you know just where we are now?"
"Well, about," said Hal. "This is Belleau Woods. Beyond there," and the
lad pointed directly ahead, "is what is known as Chateau Thierry. A city
has sprung up around the old chateau, but I don't know whether the
Germans have left anything of it. It was rather a famous spot in its
day."
And it was to become still more famous, though neither lad knew it then.