Army Boys in the French Trenches | Page 4

token of surrender.
On that part of the line the battle was over, for the plan did not
contemplate going beyond the second trench at that time. The
American boys had won and won gloriously. From all parts of the
trench, on a two-mile front, groups of captives were coming sullenly
out with uplifted hands, to be herded into groups by their captors and
sent to the rear.
"Glory hallelujah!" cried Bart, as he removed his mask and wiped his

streaming face. "And no gas, either."
"Some scrap!" gasped Billy, as he sank exhausted to the ground.
"Did them up to the Queen's taste," chuckled Tom.
"We certainly put one over on the Huns that time," grinned Frank
happily.
And while they stand there, breathless and exulting, it may be well for
the benefit of those who have not previously made the acquaintance of
the American Army Boys to sketch briefly their adventures up to the
time this story opens.
Frank Sheldon, Bart Raymond, Tom Bradford and Billy Waldon had all
been born and brought up in Camport, a thriving American city of
about twenty-five thousand people. They had known each other from
boyhood, attended the same school, played on the same baseball nine
and were warm friends.
Frank was the natural leader of the group. He was a tall, muscular
young fellow, quick to think and quick to act, always at the front in
sports as well as in the more serious events of life.
His father had died some years before, leaving only a modest home as a
legacy, and Frank was the sole support of his mother. The latter had
been born in France, where Mr. Sheldon had married her and brought
her to America.
Later, Mrs. Sheldon's father had died, leaving her a considerable
property in Auvergne, her native province. This estate, however, had
been tied up in a lawsuit, and she had not come into possession of it.
She had been planning to go to France to look after her interests, but
her husband's death and, later on, the breaking out of the European war,
had made this impossible.
She was a charming woman, with all the French sparkle and vivacity,
and she and her son were bound together in ties of the strongest

affection. Naturally her ardent sympathy had been with France in the
great war raging in Europe. But when it became evident that America
soon would take part, although she welcomed the aid this would bring
to her native country, her mother heart was torn with anguish at the
thought that her only son would probably join in the fighting across the
sea.
But Frank, though he dreaded the separation, felt that he must join the
Camport regiment that was getting ready to fight the Huns. The
deciding moment came when a German tore down the American flag
from a neighbor's porch. Frank knocked the fellow down and in the
presence of an excited throng made him kiss the flag that he had
insulted. From that moment his resolution was taken, and his mother,
who had witnessed the scene, gave her consent to his joining the old
Thirty-seventh regiment, made up chiefly of Camport boys, including
Billy Waldon, who had seen service on the Mexican border.
Bart Raymond, Frank's special chum, a sturdy, vigorous young fellow,
was equally patriotic, and joined the regiment with Frank as soon as
war was declared. Tom Bradford, a fellow employee in the firm of
Moore & Thomas, a thriving hardware house, wanted to enlist, but was
rejected on account of his teeth, although he wrathfully declared that
"he wanted to shoot the Germans, not to bite them." In fact, almost all
the young fellows employed by the firm, except "Reddy," the office
boy, who wanted to go badly enough, but who was too young, tried to
get into some branch of the army or navy.
A marked exception was Nick Rabig, the foreman of the shipping
department, who, although born in the United States, came of German
parents and lost no opportunity of "boosting" Germany and "knocking"
America. He was the bully of the place and universally disliked. He
hated Frank, especially after the flag incident, and only the thought of
his mother had prevented Frank more than once from giving Rabig the
thrashing he deserved.
Frank's regiment was sent to Camp Boone for their preliminary training,
and here the young recruits were put through their paces in rifle
shooting, grenade throwing, bayonet practice and all the other exercises

by which Uncle Sam turns his boys into soldiers. There was plenty of
fun mixed in with the hard work, and they had many stirring
experiences. A pleasant feature was the coming of Tom, who although
rejected when he tried to enlist had been accepted in the draft. Not so