OVER THE TOP
"We haven't much time," remarked Jerry, as he glanced at the watch on
his wrist. "We'll be relieved in five minutes."
"That's long enough," returned Ned, with a grim laugh. "If this fellow
who has tried to get me--or one of you--so often, runs true to form,
he's done his last shooting. I know where he keeps himself."
"Where?" asked Bob.
Ned took his chums by the arms, and led them a little way down the
trench where there was an improvised periscope. It was not being used
by the officer in charge just then, and Ned peered through it.
He said nothing for a moment, and then called to Jerry:
"Take a look at that brush pile just inside the first line of German
wire."
"I see it," remarked Jerry, after a look through the mirror
arrangement.
"Well, that's where Mr. Fritz is keeping himself," said his chum.
"It's just in line with the direction from which that last bullet
came. I've been thinking for some time that he was hidden there, but I
wasn't sure until I saw the flash of his gun as he nearly hit me just
now. But now I'll get him!"
"That bush doesn't seem big enough to shelter a man," observed Bob, as
he, too, took an observation.
"There's a hole dug under it, and he's hiding in that," said Ned. "At
first I thought the sharpshooter was popping at us from some height,
and I believe he was, a week or so back. But now he has changed his
tactics. He's doing ground sniping, and that bit of bush hasn't any
roots."
"What do you mean?" asked Jerry.
"I mean it's a bit of camouflage. The sharpshooter moves it about with
him, thinking we'll believe it's natural. He scoops a hole, gets in
with only his head sticking out, and puts this bit of foliage in front
of him as a screen. Now, Bob, you take your helmet, and when I tell
you hold it up on your gun. Jerry, you come with me down the trench a
way, and please don't fire until after I do. If I miss, you get him,
but I want first shot.
"I want Bob to draw his fire, if he can," explained Ned. "I'll be in
reserve to shoot as soon as I see the flash. If I miss you take him.
It's got to be nip and tuck, and we'll have to make it a snap shot,
for he'll drop back into the hole after he fires."
"Go to it!" advised the tall lad. "I'm with you."
Quickly they made their preparations. While Ned and Jerry went a
little way down the trench, Bob took off his helmet and put it on the
end of his gun. He then awaited the signal from Ned.
"Show your tin hat!"
Slowly, and simulating as much as possible a soldier raising his head
above the top line of the trench, Bob elevated the helmet. Hardly had
he done so when there came a sharp crack, and the helmet spun around
on the point of the bayonet as a juggler spins a plate on the end of
his walking stick.
"Right O!" cried Ned, and, almost in the same detonation as the firing
of the German's gun, Ned's rifle spoke. The clump of bushes seemed to
spout up into the air, blown by some underground explosion, and then a
figure was seen to half leap from what must have been an excavation.
"You got him!" cried Jerry.
"Yes," assented Ned, as he lowered his gun. "You won't have to shoot,
old man. Fritz won't do any more pot-hunting."
So that was the end of one German sharpshooter.
The three chums were congratulated by their relief, which came soon
after that, on ridding that part of this particular sector of a menace
that had long been in evidence. More than one American had been killed
or wounded either by this sharpshooter or by one who had adopted the
same tactics, and Ned, Bob and Jerry had well earned the thanks of
their comrades.
"Have you heard anything more about going over the top soon?" asked
Jerry.
"Nothing definite," replied Ned, who had started the rumor. "But don't
you feel a sort of tenseness all around--as though something were
going to happen?"
"I do," answered Bob. "I think it's going to happen that I'm going to
have some chow. I smell it coming!"
"You're a heathen materialist!" declared Ned.
Bob proved a true prophet, for a few minutes later a relief squad came
to the dugout with a traveling kitchen, or rather, some of the
products of one in the shape of hot beef stew and coffee.
Following the ending of the career of the German sniper, the three
Motor Boys, after several strenuous days in the trenches, went back
again to a rest billet. There they recuperated, and really enjoyed
themselves. There were letters from home to cheer them, and also a
communication from Professor Snodgrass.
The little scientist said he had tried in vain to get some trace of
the two missing girls, and expressed the hope of seeing the boys soon,
to get the benefit of any advice they could give him. He also stated
that he was progressing well with his scientific work of noting the
effect of terrific noises on insects. But, somehow or other, the Motor
Boys did not take as much interest in the pursuit of the scientist as
they had formerly.
"The war has changed everything," declared Jerry.
"But, of course, we'll help him find the girls if we can," suggested
Ned.
"Oh, of course," agreed his tall chum.
Their stay in the rest camp was made pleasant by the ministrations of
the Y. M. C. A. and the Knights of Columbus representatives. The chums
and their comrades spent much time in the different huts, where they
were entertained and could get hot chocolate, candy or chewing
gum--rations not then issued by the army commissary.
"If it wasn't for these organizations war would be a whole lot worse
than it is," declared Jerry, as they came from a Y. M. C. A. meeting
and moving-picture show one evening.
"And don't forget the Salvation Army!" chimed in Bob. "The fried holes
those lassies turn out are the best I ever ate--not excepting those
mother used to make."
"Yes, those doughnuts fill a big void, even if they have a hole in the
middle," agreed Ned.
But all good things--even Salvation Army doughnuts--come to an end
some time, and so did the rest period of the three friends. Back to
the trenches they went, to find out that what Ned had predicted was
about to happen. An attack of considerable magnitude was in
preparation, and it was to be as much of a surprise to the Germans as
possible.
"It's going to be over the top all right," declared Jerry, when, one
evening, they received their final instructions. The attack, preceded
by a brief artillery preparation, was to take place at dawn, the "zero
hour" selected.
It was believed, and was proved true as after events showed, that by
considerably shortening the artillery fire, the Germans would be
unprepared. They were used to the big guns bombarding them for a day
or more at a stretch before the infantry came over. This was to be a
change.
The night before the attack was a nervous one. Yet those not on duty
managed to get some sleep. For many it would be their last.
Then came the general awakening, and the moving of the men along the
trenches to the posts assigned to them. Each squad of men was in
charge of an officer, commissioned or noncommissioned, and in Jerry's
squad were Ned and Bob.
"Go over the top with a rush when you get the signal, which will be
three whistles after the barrage has ceased," were the instructions,
and Ned, Bob, and Jerry, with their comrades, prepared to do this.
There was a period of tense waiting and then, with a suddenness that
shook their nerves and bodies, as well as the whole earth about them,
the big guns opened fire.
That the Germans were taken by surprise was evident by the failure to
answer. For perhaps five minutes it seemed as though a thousand of the
most terrific of thunder storms had been condensed into one.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the firing ceased. The "zero hour"
had arrived.
Three shrill whistles, repeated from many points, sounded on the now
silent but quivering air. Not a German gun had yet awakened.
"Over the top!" came the cry, and the friends, with thousands of other
brave lads, scrambled up the ladders from the trenches and started
toward the German lines.