BOB IS MISSING
Careful preparations had been made for this night raid. It was the
constant effort of both sides, during the period of trench fighting,
to get possession of facts which would allow successful attacks to be
carried out later. And to do this it was needful to get close to the
enemy's line. By so doing, certain things might be overheard in the
talk among the soldiers, or (for the results of the listening were
uncertain) better still, was the capture of prisoners. Once they were
taken back of the lines, questioned and searched, much of value might
be obtained.
This, as a matter of fact, worked much better for the Americans than
it did for the Germans. If the Huns did succeed in capturing, during a
raid, some of our boys, they got little information from them about
the units with which the boys of Uncle Sam were connected. Nor did the
Huns learn much as to the strength of the forces opposed to them,
except, perhaps, in the way of exaggeration.
"The American captive is more inclined to utter the equivalent of
'nothing doing,'" remarked Jerry, one day when discussing the matter.
On the other hand, the German prisoners captured, almost invariably,
were glad that their fate had thus been ordered. They were sure of
decent treatment, they were in no more danger of being killed and,
more than anything else, they would be better fed than in their own
trenches.
So it is no wonder they gave valuable information under the skilful
questioning of the American officers. Still this information had to be
carefully checked up before being acted on, as it would not do to run
into danger as a result of what some Hun captive told.
"We are going out to try our luck," explained the lieutenant who was
to lead Ned, Bob, Jerry, and their comrades, numbering half a score,
out on a night raid. "There's a German dugout not far from here, and
near by a machine-gun nest, and if we can get close enough to rush it,
and capture those we don't kill, we may make it possible for a big
forward movement--if the information we get is of the right sort. So
get ready. Gas masks, hand grenades--rifles will be in the
way--automatic pistols, of course, and don't forget to blacken your
faces."
This precaution was always taken by night raiding parties. The Germans
adopted the habit of sending up illuminating devices, known as "star
shells," at frequent intervals over No Man's Land. This was to guard
against a party of the enemy advancing on the trenches. The shells
gave a very bright light, and nothing stands out more conspicuously in
such a glare than a white face. So it was the custom to blacken
countenances and hands when a night-raiding party went over the top.
It was not without a little feeling of nervousness and apprehension
that the three friends and their chums made their preparations. But it
was an apprehension of failure rather than fear. They wanted to
succeed, to get results, and they were afraid they might fail. They
were not afraid, personally. Still they were taking big chances, and
they all knew it.
"Ought we to leave some word for Professor Snodgrass?" asked Ned, as
he and his friends were making ready about midnight.
"Word about what?" Jerry inquired.
"Well, in case we don't come back we can't help him in his search, as
we promised."
"If we don't come back our friends will know it, and they can tell the
professor if he inquires for us," said Jerry grimly. "Let it go at
that. If we get back we'll be here ourselves in case the professor
ever gets this far to the front. If we don't get back--well, he'll
have to get some one else to help him. Come on!"
The last word was given, the final preparations had been made. Then
silently, like shadows of the night, the figures crept out of the
trench in the darkness and advanced toward the German lines.
The American barbed wire had been cut in places to let the party
through. To pass the German barrier they would have to do their own
cutting, and they were provided with tools for this purpose.
Silently they went down the lane of wire, now and then passing grim
sentries to whom the password was given. And then, coming to the gap
in the wire, Ned, Bob and Jerry, with the others, passed through. Each
member of the party carried an automatic pistol and several hand
grenades. These were small, hollow containers, of cast-iron, loaded
with a powerful explosive, which was set off after a certain trigger
or spring or firing pin (according to the type used) was released by
the thrower. The explosive blew the grenade to bits, and it was
scored, or crisscrossed, by deep indentations so that the iron would
break up into small pieces like shrapnel. The grenades could be
carried in a pouch or in the pocket, and were harmless as long as the
detonating device was not disturbed.
Silently the lieutenant led his men forward. Jerry Hopkins, the only
noncommissioned officer in the squad, marched next, as in the event of
the lieutenant being killed the command would fall to him.
No talking was permitted, and each man knew what he was to do, so no
orders were necessary. On and on they went, and presently they found
themselves traveling over the battle-scarred and shell-pitted
territory of No Man's Land. They had got close to the German barbed
wire when suddenly, as though their movements had been watched,
several star shells were sent up by the Huns.
Instantly every man in the party fell flat on his face and did not
move. It was the only thing to do. They resembled, as nearly as they
might, the dead which lay all about them on the desolate field.
And some of the dead had been there a long time, as it was impossible
for either side to bury them, though occasionally, at night, parties
went out to bring in those in whom it was hoped a spark of life still
remained.
Jerry found that he had thrown himself down close beside a dead Hun.
He wanted desperately to move, for his position was grimly unpleasant,
but he did not dare. This was not the most glorious side of war, but
it was vitally necessary.
However, thanks to the precaution of blackened faces and hands, and to
the dark uniforms, the party of night-raiders must have resembled the
dead all about them, for no firing followed the illumination of star
shells.
Then, when it was dark again, the party rose and went on. Good luck
attended them thus far, in that they reached the German barbed wire
undiscovered. Then began the ticklish work of cutting it, and in this
there was much danger.
For some of the wire was under great tension, and, when cut, made a
twanging sound like a broken harp or piano string. And this sound
carried far in the silence of that sector. Other sectors were not so
quiet, for firing was going on along both lines of trenches, though
what movement was under way the Motor Boys did not know.
The sound of the wire as it was cut was deadened as much as possible
by having a man hold the strand on either side of the place to be cut.
This helped some, but not always, as the wire twisted itself from the
grips of the soldiers, and sometimes the barbs injured them.
"All cut, Lieutenant," reported Jerry, as the final strand was
severed. The commanding officer had been on watchful patrol while this
was being done.
"Good!" was the low-voiced answer. "Come on, now. Every man with a
grenade in either hand!"
Once more the party went forward. They were past the first German
barbed wire now, but the way was still not completely open, for more
opposing strands were found farther on. However, this was not
unexpected, for often three or more lines of this American invention
were to be found opposing the American forces.
Once more the cutters were called into play, and as the last strand
was severed a dog, somewhere within the Hun lines, barked. Instantly
all in the raiding party crouched down, for a burst of star shells
might follow immediately.
However, the dog must have been believed to be a false alarmist, or
else he was barking at some other disturbance than that caused by the
raiders, for darkness still reigned.
Then, after waiting a moment to make sure all was right, the
lieutenant led his men forward. So far they had not been challenged by
the enemy, but now this immunity was to end, for when they had passed
the final wire barrier and were advancing with tense steps toward the
German dugout, with grenades in readiness, there came a sharp,
guttural order to halt.
It was in the German tongue, as they all knew, and they all realized
that the crucial moment had come.
The lieutenant, seeing a figure in the darkness before him, shot at it
pointblank with his pistol. There was a murmured exclamation, and the
sentry went down, his finger pressing the trigger of his rifle,
discharging it as he fell dead.
"Come on now, boys! Give it to 'em!" cried the officer.
"Forward!" shouted Jerry Hopkins, and with Ned and Bob at his heels he
rushed ahead, the others stumbling after him. They had reached the
German trenches, and from them now poured several defenders. The main
body were in the dugout a little farther on, and it was desired to
attack this, and, if possible, capture some prisoners.
"Come on! Come on! Down with the Huns!" cried the lieutenant, and his
battle yell was echoed by Jerry and the others.
Then began a fight in the dark, the details of which were never very
clear to the Motor Boys. Bob said he let loose all the grenades he had
at the advancing party of Germans and then rushed at them, head down,
as though advancing the ball for a touchdown.
Ned declared that he fired his automatic pistol until he realized that
it was empty, and then, throwing it away, thought for the first time
of the grenades he carried. Then he began using them.
There was a deafening noise as the grenades of the Americans exploded
in the faces of the advancing Huns, and they, in turn, threw hand
bombs and opened fire with their rifles. The attack awoke to life
sentries and guard parties all along the line, and the scene was
illuminated by a burst of star shells.
"Come on! Into the trenches! They can't see us there so well!" yelled
Jerry.
"That's the idea!" commanded the lieutenant. "Get to the dugout!"
So desperate and sudden had been the attack of the Americans that,
after the first resistance, the Germans gave way and ran back, jumping
down into the trenches whence they had come.
The raiding party asked nothing better than to follow, and for a time
pursued the Huns along their own trenches, the bursting star shells
above giving light enough to see.
"Are you there--Ned--Bob?" demanded Jerry, as he ran on, following the
tortuous line of the trench.
"I'm here!" answered Ned.
"So'm I," added Bob. "Haven't a shot left, though."
"Here, take these," and Jerry handed over some spare grenades he had
in a pouch slung at his back. "Don't pot any of our men, though. Some
are ahead of us."
On ran the Motor Boys, and in another moment they came to the
dugout--a pretentious affair of concrete, now well lighted, for the
alarm of the attack had spread.
One of the raiding party threw a hand grenade inside the structure.
There was a powerful explosion, not enough, indeed, to wreck the stout
place, but sufficient to send the inmates scurrying out--what were
left of them.
"_Kamerad! Kamerad!_" some of the wounded ones cried, and others held
up their hands.
"Come on!" shouted the lieutenant. "Gather 'em in and let's get back.
This place is getting too hot for us."
He spoke with truth, for on all sides the big guns were now beginning
to bark, and a general engagement might be precipitated.
Some of the Americans snatched guns from the now cowed Germans, and
prodded them back along the trench with the points of the bayonets.
Others held hand grenades or automatic pistols ready, and the order to
retreat was given.
Half a dozen Hun prisoners had been captured, but at a price, for when
the lieutenant, hurrying his men back across No Man's Land, began to
look over his party, he found three were missing. They had either been
killed or wounded, or were left prisoners in the trenches.
"Are you there, boys?" asked Jerry again, of his chums, and he
received reassuring answers from both.
"Hurt?" was his next inquiry, as they raced across the stretch,
stopping every time there was a burst of star shells, and crouching
down, making their prisoners do the same, to take shelter in some
shell holes, some half-filled with water and others containing dead
bodies.
"I'm all right," Bob answered. "Only a bit scratched by some Hun's
bayonet, I guess."
"A bullet or a bayonet touched me in the side," came from Ned. "It's
bleeding a bit, but not much. I'm all right."
Some of the others who were able to come back were not so fortunate,
however, and two died later of wounds received in that night raid.
But the main party succeeded in getting back to the American lines,
and hurried through the opening in the barbed wire, where a relief or
a rescue party, whichever might be required, was in waiting.
"Good work!" commended the captain to his lieutenant. "And you got
some prisoners?"
"Six!"
"That's fine. Couldn't be better. Get down now, there may be a Hun
barrage in a minute. They'll be ripping mad when they find out what's
happened. This was one of their main posts, and Prussians were on
guard."
Jerry and Ned were each guarding a Hun prisoner, making him walk along
ahead with upraised hands, while the guns, taken away from the Germans
themselves, served as compelling weapons.
Into the trenches they had left a short time before the raiders made
their way, and went to the dugout where they were to report. There the
commanding officer of that sector met them.
Coming into the comparatively well-lighted place from the darkness,
Jerry blinked as he looked at the captured Germans and then glanced to
see how badly Ned was hurt.
He saw that his chum was pale, and noted blood on his hands, but Ned
smiled in a reassuring way. Then, for the first time, Jerry noticed
that Bob was not with them.
"Where's Chunky?" he demanded.
"Who?" asked the lieutenant. "I thought we only left Black, Jones, and
Porter behind. Is there another missing?"
"Bob Baker, sir," answered Jerry. "But he was with us when we got back
within our own wire. I was talking to him."
"Send out a searching party!" ordered the captain. "It is possible he
was hit and didn't say anything about it, or a stray bullet may have
found him after he reached our lines. Send out and see!"