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_The Motor Boys_
NED, BOB AND JERRY
ON THE FIRING LINE
Or
The Motor Boys Fighting
for Uncle Sam
BY
CLARENCE YOUNG
AUTHOR OF "THE MOTOR BOAT SERIES"
"THE RACER BOYS SERIES,"
"THE JACK RANGER SERIES," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
Price per volume, 80 cents, postpaid.
THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES
THE MOTOR BOYS
THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND
THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO
THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS
THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC
THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC
THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS
THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE ROCKIES
THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE OCEAN
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE WING
THE MOTOR BOYS AFTER A FORTUNE
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE BORDER
THE MOTOR BOYS UNDER THE SEA
THE MOTOR BOYS ON ROAD AND RIVER
THE MOTOR BOYS--SECOND SERIES
NED, BOB AND JERRY AT BOXWOOD HALL
NED, BOB AND JERRY ON A RANCH
NED, BOB AND JERRY IN THE ARMY
NED, BOB AND JERRY ON THE FIRING LINE
THE JACK RANGER SERIES
JACK RANGER'S SCHOOLDAYS
JACK RANGER'S WESTERN TRIP
JACK RANGER'S SCHOOL VICTORIES
JACK RANGER'S OCEAN CRUISE
JACK RANGER'S GUN CLUB
JACK RANGER'S TREASURE BOX
THE RACER BOYS SERIES
THE RACER BOYS
THE RACER BOYS AT BOARDING SCHOOL
THE RACER BOYS TO THE RESCUE
THE RACER BOYS ON THE PRAIRIES
THE RACER BOYS ON GUARD
THE RACER BOYS FORGING AHEAD
Copyright, 1919, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Spy Alarm 1
II. A Man and a Snake 11
III. A Puzzled Professor 18
IV. A Two-Girl Problem 29
V. More Girls 35
VI. Noddy Nixon 43
VII. Off for France 53
VIII. The Training Camp 59
IX. On the Firing Line 71
X. In the Trenches 78
XI. A Night Patrol 88
XII. Bob Is Missing 96
XIII. "Just Like Him!" 108
XIV. A Desperate Chance 116
XV. The Sniper 123
XVI. Over the Top 129
XVII. "Fried Holes" 136
XVIII. The School Janitor 145
XIX. News at Last 153
XX. A Queer Question 162
XXI. A Visitor 171
XXII. An Unexpected Capture 177
XXIII. Great Preparations 184
XXIV. "S. I. W." 194
XXV. The Black Box 201
XXVI. A Disappearance 209
XXVII. St. Mihiel 218
XXVIII. In Argonne Forest 226
XXIX. Captured 232
XXX. Recaptured 243
NED, BOB AND JERRY ON THE FIRING LINE
CHAPTER I
THE SPY ALARM
"There's a German on the ground! Get him!"
The sun glistened on scores of polished bayonets, as sturdy figures,
clad in olive drab, which matched in hue the brown of the earth,
sprang from their trenches and rushed forward.
"Put some pep into it! Lively now! Get the Germans!"
There were dull thuds, and there was a ripping, tearing sound as the
steel slashed its way through the tough cloth. Along the swaying line
rushed the young soldiers, stabbing to right and left as they went.
Now their weapons were directed downward with deadly force, and they
sank them into the forms on the ground with such energy that the earth
beneath was torn and gashed, and the muzzles of the guns, to which
the stabbing bayonets were attached, made deep impressions on the
yielding forms.
"There's a German on the ground! Get him!"
Again the cry rang out, and again the rushing, charging line surged
forward, and then there followed once more the thuds which told of the
cold steel going through and through and----
Then from the center of one of the charging lines there came a laugh
as a lad, having driven his keen weapon home with too much force,
being unable to free it, raised on his gun a large sack stuffed with
hay, the fodder bristling out of one of the gashes he had made.
"That's the stuff, Chunky! Go to it!" yelled his laughing comrades.
"If you can't get a German any other way, stick him on the end of your
bayonet, bring him back to camp, and feed him to death!"
"Silence in the ranks!" cried the sergeant who was drilling the young
soldiers of Camp Dixton in bayonet practice. For this is what it was,
and not a charge on some Hun position; though from the fervor with
which the boys went at it, and the fierce commands of their officers,
a person hearing, and not seeing, might be inclined to believe that it
was actual warfare.
And it was, as nearly as it could be approximated, for the sacks
stuffed with hay or other yielding material, suspended on framework
as is a football dummy or scattered over the ground, were called
"Germans," by the drilling officers.
And, at the command: "There's a German on the ground! Get him!" it was
the part of the prospective soldier to rush at the recumbent sack and
stab it through and through with all his might, trying to put into the
stroke all the force he would put into a similar one when he should
attack the enemy.
"You got your man all right, Chunky!" observed a tall, bronzed lad,
standing next to the stout youth who had used his bayonet with such
force that he carried off one of the sacks as a trophy. "You must be
feeling pretty strong today."
"Oh, let up, can't you, Jerry?" begged the badgered one. "The ground
was soft under that sack, and I didn't think the steel would go
through so far."
"Well, do that when you get on the firing line in France and it will
be all right," commented another lad, on the opposite side of the one
addressed as Chunky. "I wonder how much longer we're going to keep
this up?"
"As you were!" came the sudden order, fairly barked out from an
instructing sergeant, and the boys in the particular squad which
included Ned, Bob and Jerry, of whom more later, resumed the
positions they had been in before the order to charge bayonets had
been given.
Chunky, or Bob Baker, to give his proper name, managed to get rid of
the encumbering sack on his weapon, and marched back with the others.
They lined up at attention and waited for the usual instruction and
correction that followed each charge, or other army practice.
"That was pretty good, boys," said the sergeant, as he glanced down
the line, "but I'm sure you can do better. A few of you were a bit
slow.
"Now sometimes it's all right to be slow, if you have plenty of time,
but in this business of bayoneting Germans you won't have much time to
spare, as you'll find when you get on the other side, which I hope
will be soon."
There was a murmur to this same effect from all in the line.
"When you're using your bayonet, use it first, or the other chap may
get ahead of you and--well, you know what will happen then," went on
the sergeant significantly. "And when you pull your weapons out, do it
this way," and, taking a gun from the hands of Jerry Hopkins, the
sergeant illustrated what he meant, using one of the filled sacks as
an enemy.
"There wouldn't be much left of a German to send home after _he_ got
through with him," commented Ned Slade, as the sergeant handed Jerry
back the gun. "He surely has some poetry of motion--Sergeant Black
has."
"That's the way I tried to do it," said Bob, to his chums, Ned and
Jerry. "Only----"
"Only you must have been thinking you were going to leave your gun and
bayonet sticking in the ground to mark the place, so you could find it
the next time," interrupted Jerry with a laugh. For, the command "At
Ease," having been given, the prospective soldiers were allowed to
rest and indulge in talk. The sergeant was called to one side, while a
lieutenant gave him some orders about further practice and
instruction.
"Aw, cut it out!" begged Chunky. "Guess you forget the time you slept
through first call, and had to do kitchen police for two days."
"Indeed I don't forget it!" laughed Jerry. "It isn't a thing you can
forget so easily. But let it go at that. Only it did look funny,
Chunky, and you'd have said so yourself if you had seen it--it
certainly did look funny to see you rushing along with the sack on the
end of your gun."
"Didn't you feel the weight of it?" asked Ned Slade.
"Oh, Chunky's getting so strong, since he has his three square meals a
day, regular, that he doesn't mind a little extra weight," commented
another lad who stood in line near the three chums.
The drilling sergeant turned to his men again, and once more sent them
through the bayonet charge. Then came other drills of various sorts,
designed to make the young soldiers sturdy and strong, to fit them for
the strenuous times that loomed ahead in France--times to try men's
souls and bodies. But to these times the lads looked forward eagerly,
anxious for the days to come when they could go "over there."
"Whew!" whispered Bob to Jerry and Ned, between whom he stood as they
marched across the parade ground. "If this keeps up much longer I'm
going to be a wreck!"
"Oh, some chow will set you up all right," commented Ned.
"Oh, say that again!" sighed the stout lad. "Them words fill me with
mad desire!"
"Yes, and you'll fill the guardhouse if you don't stop talking so loud
in the ranks," warned a lad behind Bob. "Cut it out. The lieutenant is
looking this way," he added, speaking from the corner of his mouth so
the motion of his lips would not be observed.
Rapidly the young soldiers marched across the grass-grown parade
ground, in orderly array, in the last of the drills that morning. The
company to which Ned, Bob and Jerry belonged were drawn up near their
barracks, and Captain Theodore Martin, after a glance over the two
trim lines, turned the dismissing of the group over to the first
lieutenant.
The breechblocks of the guns were opened, clicked shut again, and then
came the welcome words:
"Comp _sissed_!"
That is what the lieutenant snapped out. But what he really meant, and
what the members of it understood, was:
"Company dismissed!"
Ned, Bob and Jerry, with sighs of relief, which were echoed by their
comrades, turned to stack their rifles and then prepared for "chow,"
or, in this case, the dinner mess.
As the three chums were heading in the direction of the mess hall
where, every day, two hundred or more hungry lads and men were fed,
they saw some members of their company turn and run in a different
direction.
"Hello! what's up?" asked Jerry Hopkins, coming to a halt.
"Matter where?" inquired Ned.
"Over that way," and Jerry pointed. "Either somebody is hurt, or
there's a riot."
"Let's go!" cried Ned.
"Wait until after grub," advised Bob, with an anxious look toward the
mess hall.
"It won't take but a minute," suggested Jerry. "Look, everybody's
going. We might as well be in it. If everybody is late to mess
there'll be enough left for us to eat. Come on!"
Accepting this argument, that such a general rush toward the scene of
excitement would result in a general postponement of the meal, Bob,
after a moment of hesitation, joined his two chums. They rushed toward
one of the sleeping barracks, and saw that a large crowd was
congregating around it.
"What's the matter?"
"Anybody hurt?"
"Is the place on fire?"
These were some of the questions that flew from one to the other.
"It's a spy!" some one said. "They've caught a German spy in camp, and
they're going to lynch him!"
"Oh, boy!" yelled Ned. "We must see this!"
"I don't believe it!" announced Jerry. "There've been too many German
spy scares. They all turned out to be fakes. And, anyhow, there won't
be any lynching."
"Maybe not," agreed Bob. "But there sure is some excitement."
And there was. Even Jerry had to admit that.
As the three Motor Boys--to give them the name by which they had been
known for some time--neared the barracks, the rumors and statements as
to the capture of a spy became more frequent and certain. There was
an excited, seething crowd about the place.
A lieutenant, whom Ned, Bob and Jerry knew well, as he came from their
town of Cresville, passed just then. The three chums saluted, and,
when this had been returned, Jerry asked:
"Can you tell us, Sir, what it's all about?"
"Have they really caught a spy?" added Bob eagerly.
"Well, whether he is a spy or not I can't say," was the answer. "But I
have been told that a man, who was acting in a suspicious manner about
the camp, has been arrested. Some of the officers are investigating
now. I hardly think he will prove to be a real spy, though."
"He won't last long, if he is," commented Ned.
"They have him in the barracks there," went on the lieutenant. "They
will bring him out soon, I suppose, and put him in the guardhouse.
Better go back, boys," he added. "There's too much of a crowd here
now. I must help disperse it."
He turned away, but the advice he had given Ned, Bob and Jerry was not
very welcome.
"This is our sleeping barracks, anyhow," said Ned. "We have a right to
stick around, and go in, too."
"If they let us," added Bob.
"Come on, let's try," suggested Jerry. "Here's a place," and he led
the way through a thinning portion of the crowd toward one of the
doors of the big wooden shack, in which he and his chums slept while
at Camp Dixton.
Suddenly there came a series of excited shouts from within the
building. Then several soldiers were seen to rush out as though
something had chased them.
"What in the world is up now?" asked Jerry of his chums.
They pressed forward toward the door from which the excited soldiers
had emerged, and one of them, seeing that the three chums were about
to enter, cried:
"Don't go in there!"
"Why not?" asked Bob.
"Did the spy try to shoot any one?" Ned wanted to know.
"Don't go in!" yelled another lad. "There's a snake in there as big as
a barrel, and he's skipping around as lively as a kitten! Keep out if
you don't want to meet sudden death. Oh, boy! I saw him open his
mouth, and one look was enough. No more for me!"