CAPTURED
Just how or why the two battalions became lost and surrounded in the
Argonne Forest probably no one will ever know. It was probably a case
of the commands rushing on irresistibly to get as far as possible into
the fore of the fight, and in going too far through over-zealousness.
Or there may have been misunderstandings, which would not be uncommon
in such a great battle.
However it was, two American battalions were cut off from their
supporting friends, and surrounded by the Germans who, after having
been driven out of the woods at a certain point, stormed back and
closed the gap through which the two battalions had gone. Thus they
were held at the mercy of the Huns.
But, as has been said, there was only one thought in the minds of
all--or rather, two. To fight their way back and establish
communication with their comrades if possible, or to stand off the
attacking Germans until help came.
And then began a terrible time that lasted from October 2d to October
8th--a week of terror, death and anguish. But the brave Americans bore
it all with fortitude. They had no thought of surrender even when
their food gave out and their ammunition was reduced to the last few
rounds.
Once it was certain that the two battalions were surrounded by the
Germans in the thick woods, a plan of defense was laid out. The
commanding officers held a consultation and outlined what they hoped
to do. Sending runners for help was one of these. But this plan did
not succeed. Most of the runners were either killed or captured. Some
may have gotten through, wounded, but for some time it was impossible
for the relieving army to locate their lost comrades. Efforts were
made to find them by means of aeroplanes flying over the woods, but
the growth of trees and bushes was so dense that no observations could
be made.
And, all this while, the Germans were firing steadily at the brave men
whom they had surrounded in a ring of steel. Mortars and machine guns
poured a storm of shot and bullets on them, but the Americans replied
in kind, killing and being killed. For terrible toll was taken by the
Huns, who had the advantage.
Ned, Bob, and Jerry did their duty as it came to them, as their
companions did. Once Jerry, volunteering as a runner from one position
to another, to take the place of a man killed, came to a lonely spot
in the forest and as he advanced he heard the shrill whine of a bullet
near him.
Instinctively he felt where it came from, and thought he had located
the German sniper. Dropping into a pile of leaves, as though shot,
Jerry watched from under his cap. He saw a Hun cautiously raise his
head from behind a distant stump, and that was the last act on the
part of that particular German.
Jerry fired from his pistol, prone as he lay, and the shot went true.
Then the tall lad resumed his journey, delivered the message and
brought back the answer.
The days and nights of terror passed slowly. There was engagement
after engagement. Time after time the Americans tried to break
through, but were driven back with terrific loss. But the Germans
could not approach close enough to wipe them out. Always when the Huns
stormed there was such a withering fire from the American guns that
the Kaiser's troops fled back to the fastness of the woods.
Then came the sending, under a flag of truce, of the German
commander's invitation to surrender. He asked the American commander
to give up, to save useless bloodshed, and said the Americans taken
prisoner would be well treated.
The American commander sent back an answer which rang with defiance.
And the fighting went on.
It was awful! The food dwindled away as did the ammunition. But still
the surrounded battalions--now less than half their original
strength--would not surrender.
"What will be the outcome?" asked Bob wearily, as he and his chums,
hidden in a shell hole, held their part of the line.
"We'll win! That's what will be the outcome!" cried Jerry fiercely.
"We'll show the Huns how we fight!"
There came a terrific burst of firing, and a hail of bullets swept
over their heads.
"They're coming on again!" yelled Ned.
The firing increased, but it did not seem to approach nearer. Instead,
it appeared to be going away.
"What can it mean?" asked Jerry.
"There's heavy fighting going on over there," and Ned indicated a
point in the forest where it was known the Germans were in strong
force.
There was activity among those that were left of the two battalions.
Last desperate efforts had been made to send runners through the enemy
line to regimental headquarters to summon help, but all had been
killed or captured. It seemed the end of everything, when this new and
heavy firing was heard.
And then, like a drink of cold water to a fever-dying man, a ringing
American cheer came through the woods to the ears of the exhausted
ones.
"What is it? What is it?" cried Bob. "What does it mean?"
"It means we're rescued!" shouted Jerry, jumping up and swinging his
cap, disregarding possible German snipers. "It means the relief has
come through!"
The lost battalions were found, the Germans holding them in the forest
were killed or driven away, and the remainder of the men were saved.
So ended one of the most dramatic episodes of the war, the losing and
finding of these brave men who would not surrender, but preferred
death first.
On came the relieving army, and there was rest and food and sleep for
the beleaguered ones--and of it all perhaps they needed sleep most,
for they had not dared to rest much during that terrible week.
"But it will be something to tell the folks back home," said Bob, as
the three chums sat down together, able to eat and talk without the
fear of a German bullet or shell.
"Yes, if we ever get there," admitted Ned.
"And, all this while, we haven't heard a word from the professor,"
said Jerry. "I'm worried about him."
So were his chums, and if they could have seen their friend at that
moment their anxiety would have been justified.
For briefly to chronicle the adventures that befell the little
scientist: The morning he had wandered from his temporary French
boarding place without his hat, he really had gone in pursuit of a
strange and rare butterfly.
Then, as so often happened, he became so engrossed in his scientific
work that he forgot all about everything else, and, before he knew it,
he was miles away from home--or what passed for home in those days.
It was late afternoon when Professor Snodgrass finally captured the
butterfly which had eluded him so long, and put it carefully away in a
pocket case. Then he began to think about getting back. His stomach
told him it was long past his dinner hour.
Just how it happened he never knew, and probably it would never happen
again, but he managed to wander across No Man's Land at a place
secluded, and thinly guarded, and found himself behind the German
lines.
Professor Snodgrass was not aware of this. He saw only that he was
approaching a small French village down a pleasant valley, so far away
from the immediate theater of war that the distant guns made but a
dull rumble.
At first the little scientist thought it was his own humble village he
was coming to, and it was not until he saw some German soldiers about,
and noted the queer looks on the faces of the French inhabitants, that
he realized his mistake.
As it happened, the big American attack was in progress, and every
available soldier was being rushed to the front, the few remaining in
this village being among the number. They were preparing to leave.
So that, in their haste to obey orders and get to their firing line,
or perhaps because they were too busy to notice one lone little
American scientist, no attention was paid to Professor Snodgrass.
When he saw that he was in an unfamiliar village and began to ask
questions, he was met with astonished looks, perhaps as much at his
peculiar way of speaking French as anything else. But one Frenchman
said:
"How did you, an American, manage to get through?"
"I don't know," answered the professor. "But now I want to get back."
"Impossible, Monsieur. But come, I will hide you, if I can. I have
some fellow countrymen of yours at my house, or rather, some fellow
countrywomen."
"Americans?"
"Yes, two young ladies. They were left behind by a certain German, by
name of Louder or Chowder--name of a name--and I looked after them.
They will be glad to see you."
"Oh, dear!" said the professor. "Ladies--American ladies--here in this
terrible place! I must do what I can for them. Take me to them,
please."
And the Frenchman did so, with all the caution he could use. But it
was not needed. Events were transpiring that made the Germans think of
beginning a retreat instead of capturing one lone United States
college professor.
"Here!" exclaimed the Frenchman, as he ushered his new friend into his
humble home. "Here are the ladies. I have brought you a fellow
countryman," he added, nodding to his guests.
Two girls, whose pretty faces bore worried looks, arose to confront
Professor Snodgrass. He bowed, rather flustered as he always was in
the presence of women, and then, as he looked intently at the girls, a
strange look came over his face.
"Excuse me," he murmured, as he reached for something in his pocket.
He took a card from an envelope and, looking at one of his companions,
asked:
"Are you Gladys Petersen?"
"I am!" was the surprised answer. "But how----"
"And are you Dorothy Gibbs?" went on the little scientist, turning to
the other.
"That is my name, but----"
"Then I have found you," said the little man quietly. "My name is
Snodgrass, and I have a letter to you from your uncle, Professor Emil
Petersen. He leaves you half his fortune and me the other half. I have
been looking everywhere for you, and now I have found you. But I wish
the boys were here."
"What boys?" asked Miss Petersen.
Without answering this question the professor explained his errand,
and told of his long search for the girls, to their no small
astonishment. They were shocked to hear of their uncle's death, but
they had, long since, given up all hope of ever sharing in his wealth,
even though he had become reconciled to them after the deaths of their
parents.
"But it is all true," said Professor Snodgrass. "He wants you to share
in his fortune, or rather, he wanted you to, and I am to carry out his
wishes as expressed in his will. By so doing I get a fortune for
myself. It is really a great relief. But now tell me--how did you
girls get here? The last I heard of you was that you were near Metz."
"We were there," answered Miss Petersen; "but the German family with
whom we were staying after uncle went away thought the place in
danger of capture and left, taking us with them. Finally, after
traveling about, they said we had better shift for ourselves, as it
was dangerous for any German to befriend any American, which we are.
So we did what we could. We tried to make our way to the Allied lines,
but this was as far as we could get. Tell me, Professor, do you think
the Americans will come?"
"Oh, of course! Yes!" asserted Professor Snodgrass, who would have
said anything, just then, to gain time to think, and not to worry the
girls. "Of course they'll be here, but perhaps we had better go to
meet them."
"Oh, yes! Let's!" cried Dorothy. "Poor Uncle Emil! If he were only
here! He was very kind to us."
"Yes, we loved him," added Gladys softly. "He was so much like you,
Professor Snodgrass--you remind me very much of him."
"I am glad I do," was the simple answer. "Emil Petersen was a man to
be proud of. He was my friend. And now let us consider what is best to
do. I think we had better leave."
And so, though only after much protest on the part of the kind
Frenchman, who warned them of their danger, the three set out. A hat
was provided for Professor Snodgrass. They were going to try to reach
the American lines.
"I fear you will all be captured," said their host. "And, if you are,
it will go hard with you. The Germans hate the Americans worse than
ever since the recent defeat of the Kaiser's best troops. I fear you
will not get through."
And they did not. Just as they seemed on the point of success, having
reached a French village at a place opposite the Allied line, they
were halted as they were about to cross in a secluded spot, and during
a lull in the fighting.
In his innocence the professor made no effort to conceal his purpose,
and he and the young ladies were turned back, while a German officer,
smiling in contempt, said:
"You will do for hostages if the Americans come too close!"
"Oh, are they that near?" cried Dorothy.
"Too near--the pigs!" muttered the officer.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Gladys. "Maybe they'll save us after all!"
But, in spite of her brave words, she looked worried as she and her
cousin were led back. As for Professor Snodgrass, he bowed his head.
He had failed. Oh, if only the boys had come!