THE UNFORESEEN
"I've got fine news here for you guys!" Jimmy Blaise bolted into the
midst of his bunkies, who were grouped together in their own corner
of barracks waiting for supper call to blow. In his hand was an open
letter which he waved triumphantly at them.
"From Voissard," he jubilantly informed them. "He's coming down to see
us on Saturday, along with the Twinkle Twins. Glad it's a half-holiday.
We'll have more chance to show 'em around. Wait a minute and I'll read
it to you."
Surrounded by an interested audience, Jimmy spread open the letter and
read:
"'Dear Sergeant Blaise:
"'With much pleasure I write to inform you that my cousins and myself
expect to pay you and your friends the visit on Saturday afternoon. I
have something of importance to impart to you regarding the matter we
discussed in Paris. With best wishes I remain,
"'Sincerely,
"'EMILE VOISSARD.'"
"Three whoops for Cousin Emile!" caroled Bob. "We certainly are the
original white-haired boys. Think of a visit from the 'Flying Terror of
France'! This place won't hold us, we'll be so puffed up with pride and
vanity!"
"He's not a bit particular about his company," grinned Roger. "The
humble non-com and the president of France are all one to Cousin Emile.
That's the way it looks."
"That's the way it _is_," emphasized Jimmy. "Voissard has earned the
right to do as he pleases. He knows it and that explains everything.
Anyway, he has business to talk over with Blazes. Ahem!"
"See him puff out his chest." Bob wagged a derisive head at Jimmy. "He
throws that old bluff, 'I'm not so much,' but he means, 'I'm it!'"
"Spotted at last," was Jimmy's grinning admission. "I knew you'd get
wise to me some day."
"We hated to tell you," teased Schnitzel, joining in the banter. "Now
you know it, don't feel too bad about it."
"My heart's bruised but not broken," retaliated Jimmy. "I can stand a
few more such shocks and still keep on going. What's the matter with
you, Iggy? Haven't you a gentle little knock to hand me? Now's the
time. I'm in a real good humor."
"Never I hand you him that knock," responded Ignace with deep solemnity.
"He keeps 'em for Bobby, don't you Iggins?"
"Ye-a." Ignace snickered at Bob's accusation. "I like make the fon to
you, 'cause always you make the fon to me."
Supper call broke in upon this good-humored exchange of raillery. Loyal
to the death the five Brothers rarely took one another seriously. Even
solemn Ignace had learned the art of "joshing" which is second nature
to the American youth.
Several days had passed since the Khaki Boys had made the eventful trip
to Paris which had ended in an attempt on their lives by an unknown
foe. They had reported the affair to headquarters the next morning.
Jimmy Blaise had said nothing, however, to anyone, of his own private
suspicion concerning the "tiger man." It was merely a vague supposition
on his part, and he was quite willing to "let sleeping tigers lie."
Inquiry in camp among men who had been there longer than themselves
revealed to the Khaki Boys the knowledge that occasionally similar
night attacks had been made upon soldiers going or coming from the
village. In one instance a Sammy had been wounded in the leg and
had lain groaning by the roadside until picked up by a party of his
comrades returning to camp from the village.
This rather put a crimp in Jimmy's theory that his old enemy had
trailed him from Paris. He decided inwardly that he was an idiot to
allow such "crazy" ideas brain room and promptly banished them from his
mind.
It was on Thursday that Jimmy received the letter from Voissard
announcing his intention of visiting the Khaki Boys' camp on Saturday.
The visit was destined not to be paid, however, for on Friday morning
the detachment of the 509th Infantry, to which the five Brothers
belonged, received the longed-for order to move on.
The selected men of the 509th Infantry were to accompany part of
another American regiment, longer in training than themselves, on this
new move toward the front. None knew whether the order meant a brief
interval of rest in a village near the fighting lines or if their
journey would lead them straight to the trenches. The men of the 509th
were hopeful that this last would be their lot. They were intensely
eager to "get a whack" at the Boches. As Bob soulfully remarked: "There
aren't any cold feet in the little old 509th."
There was only one drawback to the five Brothers' satisfaction. How
were they to send quick word to Voissard and the Twinkle Twins of this
new turn in their affairs?
In desperation Jimmy finally sought Major Steadman, his commanding
officer, and laid the matter before him. Fortunately for all concerned
the major chanced to be well acquainted with the aviator. Not only did
he show evident interest in Jimmy's story of how he and his bunkies
happened to be acquainted with Cousin Emile. He very kindly volunteered
to take the responsibility on himself of sending the aviator a
personal dispatch. Thus it was arranged, but five Sammies were deeply
disappointed over the sudden collapse of the "Flying Terror's" proposed
visit.
Friday afternoon saw the selected detachments marching to the station
to entrain, looking not unlike a herd of overloaded young camels.
Hiking about Camp Marvin under "full pack" was easy compared to the
amount of equipment with which the Khaki Boys were now loaded down.
Each Sammy fairly bristled with the paraphernalia of war.
Everything needful for trench life was attached to some part of his
person. All the worldly goods bestowed upon him by the Army, he now
carried with him, together with as many of his own personal possessions
as he could make room for and bear the weight of. Undoubtedly few of
these last treasured gifts would go with him to the trenches. They
would have to be reluctantly cast aside or given away, leaving him with
only the absolutely necessary articles and equipment provided by the
Government.
Burdened as they were, it was a thrilling moment for the Khaki Boys
when late on Friday afternoon the bugles called them to Assembly in
front of barracks. All day they had been impatiently waiting for the
order. Every young face glowed with patriotic fire as they obeyed
the call, "Fall in," and were marched, company after company to the
station, there to entrain for the front.
All along the way they were cheered by the inhabitants of the village
who had come out to catch a farewell view of the gallant Sammies and
send them into the fight with warm-hearted expressions of their good
will. Many a French mother breathed a prayer and made the sign of the
cross as she saw these sturdy youngsters taking the same stretch of
the Glory Road over which had passed a beloved son or sons of her own,
never to return.
Arrived at the station our Khaki Boys were marshaled with the rest into
the waiting "48 Men, Eight horses," which had been used to convey so
many Allied soldiers to the fighting district. Entering these cheerless
and highly uncomfortable box-cars, they were leaving behind them the
comparative ease and safety they had enjoyed since landing in France.
From now on the Glory Road would mean a succession of trials and
hardships, with death always lurking in the foreground.
Every mile the train ran meant a nearer approach to the goal for which
they had so long striven. At last they were on the way to strike their
first definite blow in the big war.