TRENCH WORK WITH THE BRITISH FORCES
Everyone seemed to know Tom, as he was heartily greeted on all sides.
The appearance of the boys, however, was a puzzle to the group of
aviators.
"Let me introduce my friends, Ralph and Alfred, genuine American boys,
who were with the Belgians in their great fight from Liege to Antwerp,"
said Tom.
"How did that happen?" asked one of the men, as he grasped their hands.
"We were on the spot when war was declared, and we just pitched in and
helped them out," replied Ralph.
"Were you in any battles?" asked another.
"Oh, in a dozen, or so," answered Alfred.
"Good boys!" shouted several.
"How did you happen to get here?" asked the first interrogator.
"We came over with the Belgians, from Antwerp," said Ralph.
The foregoing information was enough to introduce the boys, and they
were gratified to find several other Americans in the party.
The reception was cut short by the peculiar antics of a huge Farman
machine, which was approaching in an erratic manner. It seemed to dart
back and forth, and swing around in short circles, as though wounded.
"Something is the matter with Le Clere," shouted Tom.
At that moment the machine darted toward the earth, and the boys held
their breaths at the anticipated calamity. Fifty feet from the earth the
machine righted itself, and swooped upward, then, with a vicious plunge,
it went down and struck the earth, the crash being plainly heard,
although it landed more than five hundred feet from where they stood.
Every one on the ground rushed toward the fallen aviator. Before they
reached the scene, two men extricated themselves, and stood on the
debris.
"What was the matter?" asked Ralph.
"Look at the holes in the wings," said Tom. "That tells the story;
pretty well riddled."
"Are you all right?" shouted one of the men.
"Yes, but that was a dandy fight, and we brought him down," replied Le
Clere, a daring Frenchman, who handled the machine gun.
The Gnome motor was lying on the ground twenty feet from the wreckage.
One of the planes was tilted up at an angle, and was uninjured, but it
carried the marks of twenty holes, through which the sunlight streamed.
"That will give you an idea of the fascinating work we are engaged in,"
said Tom, pointing to the bullet marks. The body of the machine was
wrecked, and the fuselage a mass of splinters. It was, indeed, a mystery
how the two flyers escaped without injury.
"What will they do with the machine?" asked Alfred.
"They'll build up another out of it in two days," said Tom.
"The Germans are marching west and south of Roubaix," said Le Clere.
"They have already reached Mons, and are going straight toward Paris."
The boys looked at each other in amazement. It seemed as though their
trip to Paris would be interrupted, after all. Tom seemed to read their
thoughts.
"How far is it to Mons?" asked Alfred.
"About fifty miles south," said Tom.
"And what is the name of the town which we saw before we came down?"
asked Ralph.
"Lille," was the response. "But we must be going back," continued Tom.
"We are going to move south in the morning, and I have a few things to
pack up."
After bidding good-bye to every one, they climbed into the airplane, and
those present gave the boys a cheer, as the machine glided forward. Tom
had promised to give them an hour's flight, and it was now four
o'clock. They had heard about taking observations, while on the grounds
at Lille, and they busied themselves in trying to do work of that
character. How small the houses were! They could see little creeping
things, that soon evolved themselves into horses and wagons, but they
seemed unreal.
The flight to Lille covered a distance of forty-five miles, and it took
them an hour. It didn't seem that they could have been aloft half of
that time. Now, on returning, the novelty had worn off, and they were so
much interested that they forgot to look at their watches until the deep
blue haze, which betokened the approach to the sea, aroused them.
"Why, it's past five o'clock," said Ralph. "Tom was going for an hour's
flight only," said Alfred.
"He just said that in fun, I suppose," replied Ralph.
After alighting the boys did not know how to fully express their
appreciation of Tom's kindness for the great treat, and they inquired
whether they could not be of some service to him, as they were only too
anxious to help him out in any way that would be useful.
"Why, no; I don't know what I can put you at," replied Tom. "Of course,
there's always lots to do about the hangar, and the first thing to learn
is how the machines are built, and how to handle them; and then, an
important thing is to learn all the tricks in a gasoline engine."
"That's just what we want to learn," said Alfred, enthusiastically.
"But I thought you had to go to Paris to meet your father?" said Tom.
"Yes," replied Alfred ruefully; "but we can come back. I'm sure there
will be no objections."
"Of course, it's your first duty to go to Paris--that is, if you can get
there," said Tom, rather slyly.
There was now nothing for them to do but to make an effort to reach
Paris. Immediately after landing, they started for the tram way, and
reached Dunkirk after six in the evening.
"I never was as hungry in my life," said Ralph.
"Do you know why?" answered Alfred.
"Come to think of it, we didn't get anything to eat at noon," was
Ralph's answer.
After alighting from the cars, their first mission was to seek a
restaurant, and from that point they soon reached the post office, only
to be again disappointed. At the telegraph office they had the same bad
luck.
"I wonder where father is?" said Alfred.
"I suppose we shall have to go, whether we want to or not," suggested
Ralph. "Let us inquire at the transportation office."
At the main office they soon learned that the troops from England were
occupying every coach, motor wagon and bus that was in sight, and that
there was no encouragement in that direction. But an idea occurred to
Alfred.
"We belong to the army, don't we?" he said.
"Suppose we apply as soldiers, and tell them we must get to Paris at
once."
They reached the main office of the Army transportation service, and
boldly made their way to the room indicated by an attendant. In a few
moments they were ushered in, and saw at least a score or more soldiers
and officers in the room, at one end of which sat a white-haired
officer, and several other officers, issuing orders.
"Your business?" said an officer, approaching them.
"We have been with the Belgians, and have just come from Antwerp. We are
Americans, and are trying to reach Paris, and we wanted to know if we
couldn't go on one of the trains?" explained Alfred.
The officer shook his head. "I am sorry to say that we cannot provide
for any one unless connected with the army," he said.
"But we are connected with the army," said Ralph. "We were messengers,
and have had a lively time, too."
"Yes, and we expect to join the flying corps, but father expects me in
Paris," said Alfred.
The officer smiled, and pondered a moment. Then, motioning to them, he
passed out of the room, the boys following. They crossed the hall, and
entered a narrow room.
"Lieutenant," he said, "issue a permit for these boys to ride on any
available train to Paris."
The boys expressed their thanks to the officer, and, after giving their
names and home addresses, they received a card, which stated that the
Army transport service permitted them to ride on any train where there
was available room, at the discretion of the officer in charge of the
train.
"I should advise you to see the officer at the station in the morning,
and get him to assign you to a train number, as the quickest way," said
the clerk, as he handed them the permit.
"Nothing like determination," said Ralph. "It is bound to pull you
through."
It was too late for them to return to the aviation field that evening,
so after considerable search, they finally found a room, and after
discussing the events of the day fell asleep, and awoke long after the
sun had risen.
"We've got to do some hustling," said Ralph. "We ought to see Tom this
morning and tell him of our good luck."
They partook of a hasty breakfast, and were at the station in order to
get an assignment. But this was not an easy matter. They waited for
nearly two hours before they were able to reach the proper official.
"I am sorry to say that we cannot take you today, but I will try to make
a reservation for you tomorrow. Come here after four this afternoon,"
said the officer.
"Now for the aviation field," said Alfred.
They were detained for more than an hour watching several newly arrived
regiments embark on a train, which slowly pulled out to the south, and
it was nearly noon when the grounds were reached. There seemed to be a
change in the place. The hangars were empty, and no machines visible. A
score of men were taking down the temporary hangars and from them it was
learned that the entire corps had started at eight o'clock for the
southern station.
"That's too bad!" said Ralph regretfully. "I wish we had started back
earlier."
"Then we might go to the hospital," suggested Alfred.
The head surgeon remembered the boys. "It's too bad," he said.
"Lieutenant Winston has been removed to the hospital at Dunkirk, and
will leave for England tomorrow; but his sister is still here,--ah, here
she comes."
"Oh, I am so glad to see you. Brother asked for you before he left. If
you are going to England, you must go to see him. He is at Hempstead."
"We expect to go to Paris tomorrow, and we are sorry not to be able to
see him," Alfred told her.
They at once returned to Dunkirk, and awaited anxiously until four
o'clock. Before they had an opportunity to speak to the officer in
charge, he shook his head, to indicate that there was no room. They
lingered about, but it appeared to be a hopeless task. Four tracks ran
by the station office, and these were constantly filled with empty cars,
then loaded up, and drawn out. They watched the proceedings until the
sun went down, when tired and hungry, they crossed the street, entered
a coffee house, and ate a hurried supper.
As they were moving out the doorway, Ralph stopped. Turning to Alfred,
he said: "We are chumps; that's about the size of it."
"Why so?" asked Alfred.
"We have the permits, haven't we? Why are we waiting for that fellow at
the station to get us an assignment?" replied Ralph.
"That's a fact; let's make our own assignment; come on," answered
Alfred. "Is this train going south?" he asked, addressing a soldier who
was about to enter a half-filled compartment.
"Aw! I dare say it is," was the jolly response.
"Get aboard," said Alfred.
Unabashed, they swung themselves up on the running board, and entered
the compartment. The occupants glanced at them for a moment, and seeing
the trim uniforms, at once became inquisitive.
"How did you happen to be directed to this train?" asked one of them.
"Oh, we attended to that ourselves," said Alfred.
"Our permit's all right, but we couldn't wait for them to make up their
minds when we ought to go; so here we are," said Ralph, with a laugh.
"Well, you fellows'll do; but it's a long way to Tipperary," said a
voice, which trailed off into the tune of the well-known song. His
companions chimed in, and it was not long before the occupants of the
adjoining compartments joined in the song. It was a jolly crowd, but no
one seemed to know where they were going. All had heard of the rapid
advance of the Germans toward Paris, and that General French was trying
to impede their advance somewhere to the south.
It was fully nine o'clock that night before the train made a real start.
Before that time they were pushed around on the various sidings for an
hour, and it was a relief to see the fields and feel the continual
motion of the train as it finally speeded away.
There was no time for talk now. Each tried to find a comfortable place
in order to get some sleep. They dozed and dozed, as most people are
liable to do in uncomfortable surroundings, and some hours afterwards an
orderly appeared at the door, shouting:
"All out, men; form in ranks."
"I suppose we shall have to get out, too," said Alfred.
"Why, no; this can't be Paris," replied Ralph.
"I know bally well it isn't," said a voice.
That settled it; tired and sleepy they swung off the running board, and
looked at the long lines forming at the side of the train.
"Do you know where we are?" asked Ralph, addressing a soldier at his
side.
"Don't know, my boy; we've had a steady run, though, for about three
hours," was the reply.
"We are east of St. Quentin; we passed through the city half an hour
ago; this isn't much of a hill we are on, but the Germans and French
fought a battle on this very spot in the campaign of 1870-1," said an
officer.
Alfred saluted the officer, and asked: "How far are we from Paris, sir?"
"I think it must be fully a hundred miles," was the reply.
The men were ordered to line up, and soon the order came to march. As
the boys had no other place to go, and the train was even then backing
toward the city, they marched alongside of the column. The tramp was
across open fields for a half-mile, where a road was sighted, but it was
lined with troops, and heavy artillery, going eastwardly.
The column continued on, parallel with the road. It was dry, dusty and
warm. There was a hum of sounds, and occasionally a boom or two, which
the boys recognized from their previous experiences. The most emphatic
voices were those of the drivers, who were piloting the horses drawing
the artillery and caissons. An hour's march brought them to a small
stream, which was crossed without waiting for boats or hunting for
bridges, as it was easily waded.
Across the stream they ascended an elevation, at the crest of which was
a line of soldiers busily at work with spades and pick-axes. Trenches
were being formed. They were cheered by the workers, but there was no
halting. On they went over level ground, only to meet another line of
men similarly engaged. Several hundred feet beyond an order came like a
shot: "Halt!"
An orderly came riding up at full speed, and looked around. "We are
waiting for orders, I suppose," remarked a lieutenant.
The orderly put spurs to his horse, and rode to the right, as he espied
a group of horsemen. "Form your men along this line, and dig in," he
directed.
The order was given: "File to the right; halt; stack arms."
Several lorries, which had been following them, came up, and at a word
of command the men began to unload shovels and picks. This began to look
like business. It was now growing light, but it still lacked a half hour
before sunrise.
"Why can't we lend a hand?" inquired Ralph.
"Of course we can," answered Alfred.
They were alongside in an instant. Ralph jumped into the vehicle, and
helped to hand out the implements, while Alfred tried to edge his way
in. Their earnestness attracted the officer in charge, and he smiled,
and nodded his head in approval. Thus two van loads were dumped out, and
carried forward of the rows of stacked arms.
An engineer officer marked out the line of the trench, and the men were
set to work. They were now doing the job for a _real_ purpose, as during
their month of training in England these men had been instructed how to
go about the business of making trenches, and it was wonderful to see
how quickly the furrows were dug out. They were about four feet deep,
the earth being thrown up on the side toward the enemy, thus making a
shelter trench five feet deep.
As soon as the main line was thus completed, traverses were cut, leading
out at right angle to the rear of the main trench. These were formed in
zig-zag fashion, the object being to form shelter sections along the
entire trench, so that those within would not be subjected to what is
called an enfilading fire.