THE STORM OF WAR
"Listen to that music," said Frank to his comrades the next morning, as
a furious cannonade opened up that made the ground shake and filled the
air with flying missiles of death.
"Too many bass notes in it to be real good music," remarked Billy with
a grim.
"Maybe it's the overture just before the rising of the curtain,"
suggested Bart.
"Perhaps it is," agreed Frank. "The Hun has got to start his drive
some time, and this would be just the kind of morning for it. See how
heavy that mist lies on the ground? We couldn't see the Germans at a
distance of fifty yards."
"It's mighty thick for a fact," observed Bart. "But I guess our
advanced posts are on the job. They'll give us warning in plenty of
time."
"Not that we need much warning as far as I can see," said Billy.
"We've been ready for a long time to fight at the drop of a hat. I'll
bet the Hun doesn't carry a foot of our line."
"That's where you're wrong, Billy, old scout," warned Bart. "It stands
to reason that he'll get away with something at first. You take any
one man, no matter how strong he is, and if ten fellows rush him all at
once they're bound to drive him back at the start. The Huns have got
the advantage of knowing where they're going to strike. We don't know
and so we have to spread our forces out so as to be ready to meet him
at any point. Then, too, the man who comes rushing in has the
advantage of the fellow who's standing still because he's got momentum.
That's why generals would rather fight on the offensive than on the
defensive. They're able to pick the time and place and the other
fellow has to follow his lead."
"I don't see why the Allies can't take the offensive," grumbled Billy.
"It gets my goat to let the Huns hit first."
"It does mine too," admitted Frank, "and if it hadn't been for Russia
quitting, we'd be looking now at the coattails of the Kaiser's generals
as they scooted back to Berlin. But that's a bit of hard luck that we
can't help. Russia's back-down has taken ten million soldiers from the
Allies' strength. But America will make that all up in time and then
you'll see us doing the chasing."
"It can't come too soon to suit me," said Billy. "I only wish Uncle
Sam had started sooner to get ready."
"So do I," replied Frank. "But there's no use crying over spilt milk.
We're getting ahead now with leaps and bounds. I was talking to Will
Stone the other day, and he'd just got back from a flying trip to one
of the French seaports. He says it simply knocked him stiff to see the
transports coming in loaded to the guards with American troops. And he
says the roads are fairly choked with doughboys moving this way.
They're coming like a swarm of locusts. And there's millions more
where they came from. Oh, Uncle Sam is awake now, all right, and don't
you forget it! And when he once gets started there's nothing on earth
can stop him."
"Right you are!" said Bart.
"We've won every war we've ever been in and it's got to be a habit,"
grinned Billy.
The old Thirty-seventh was stationed on the second line, or what is
called in military terms, "the line of resistance." In modern
fighting, when a heavy attack is expected the defending army is usually
arranged in three lines. The first is the advanced line, and this is
hardly expected to be held very long. Its chief aim is to hold back
the enemy for a while and weaken him as far as possible. Not many
troops are employed on this line nor many big guns. The chief reliance
is on rifle fire and machine guns, which are so placed as to deliver a
withering cross-fire and cut up the enemy divisions.
By the time the first line is driven back the defending army knows
where the enemy has chosen to strike and is ready for him on the second
line or "line of resistance." Here the battle is on in all its fury.
If here again the enemy advances, there is still a third line of
"battle positions." This is practically the last entrenched position
that the defenders have. If they are driven back from this into the
open country beyond, it becomes a serious thing for the retreating
army, as many of their big guns will have been lost, and their forces
are apt to be more or less disorganized, while the enemy is flushed
with the victory he has so far gained.
The cannonade kept on with increasing fury all through the early
morning.
"Heinie must have plenty of ammunition," remarked Frank. "He's
spending it freely."
"It beats anything we've been up against since we came to the front,"
observed Billy.
"It seems to be coming nearer and nearer all the time," said Bart. "I
guess this is going to be our busy day."
There was intense activity all through the lines. Orderlies galloped
from place to place with orders. Big motor cars rumbled up, loaded
with troops who were hastily placed in position. The big guns of the
Allied forces had opened up and were sending back shell for shell over
the enemy lines.
For over two hours the artillery kept up the Titanic duel. The fog was
lifting, though still heavy in some of the low-lying sections. The
Thirty-seventh was resting easily on its arms, ready for whatever might
happen.
"We may not see so much fighting after all," remarked Billy, after a
while. "The fellows in front seem to be holding pretty well. Perhaps
they'll throw the Huns back right from the start."
"Don't kid yourself," replied Frank grimly. "That first line is almost
sure to go. It's expected to. It's only a forlorn hope anyway. We'll
get our stomachs full of fighting before the day is over."
Even while he spoke there were signs of confusion up in front. Groups
of men came in sight evidently retreating. Machine gun crews, bringing
their weapons with them, were hurriedly setting them up in new
positions. There would be a few discharges and then they would be
forced to retreat still further. They were fighting splendidly, and
putting up a dogged resistance, yielding ground only foot by foot, but
to the experienced eyes of the boys there was no mistaking the signs.
The enemy had broken through the first line positions.
"Well, it's nothing more than we knew would happen," remarked Frank, as
his frame tingled with the excitement of the coming fight which he knew
would soon be upon him.
"That's so," agreed Bart. "But what gets me is that the line was
broken so quickly. I thought it would be afternoon at least before the
Huns got as far as this."
The lines opened up to let the newcomers through so that they could go
to the rear and re-form.
"How about it?" Frank asked of a machine gunner whom he knew, as the
man limped by him, supported by a comrade. "We didn't expect to see
you fellows so soon."
"It was the mist," was the reply. "The Huns got within thirty yards
before we tumbled to it. We did the best we could but they just
swamped our position before we could get our cross-fire going. Even at
that we mowed them down in heaps with our rifle fire, but they kept on
coming. For every dead man there were twenty live ones to take his
place. We put up a stiff fight, but there were too many of them. It
seemed like millions. They're coming now like a house afire and you
boys want to brace."
"We're braced already," muttered Billy through his clenched teeth, as
he gripped his rifle until it seemed as though his fingers must leave
their imprint on the stock.
There was a short period of waiting, more trying by far than any actual
fighting.
Then the storm broke!
In front of them rank after rank of gray-clad troops came in sight,
stretching back as far as the eye could see. The mist had wholly
vanished now and the boys could see their enemy. It seemed as though
the machine gunner had not exaggerated when he said that there were
millions. They were like the waves of the sea.
But the stout hearts of the American boys never quailed. Time and
again they had met these men or their fellows and driven them back at
the point of the bayonet. They had outfought and outgamed them. They
had sent them flying before them. They had seen their backs.
The blood of heroes and of patriots ran in the veins of the defenders.
Their ancestors had fought at Bunker Hill, at Palo Alto, at Gettysburg.
Above them floated the Stars and Stripes, an unstained flag, a glorious
flag, a flag that had never been smirched by defeat.
Their eyes blazed and their muscles stiffened.
Then like an avalanche the enemy struck!