Fighting in France | Page 5

said Leon. "They're good ones too."
"Can't they use the 42-centimeter guns out here?"
"No, they're for smashing forts. They're mortars, you know."
"None of them compare with our 75's," exclaimed Jacques proudly.
"That is, for field work, you mean," said Leon.
"Yes. And no gunners can compare with the French, either."
"That's been proved to every one's satisfaction, I guess," Leon agreed.
It seemed remarkable that these three boys could stand in the front line trenches of the greatest battlefield the world has ever known and calmly discuss the merits of the rival artillery. Such is the effect of war, however. It seems as if a man can become accustomed to almost anything, and after weeks and months on the battle-line the artillery duels and the ever-present death become matters of unconcern to the ordinary soldier.
"We ought to get some sleep," Jacques announced finally.
"Can any one sleep here?" demanded Earl.
"I think I can," said Jacques. "I'm healthy and I'm tired."
"We can lie right down here in the trench," suggested Leon. "We can use our knapsacks for pillows and maybe get a little sleep."
"This is no place for a man who's nervous," laughed Jacques as a German shell whistled over their heads and exploded with a roar a short distance behind their position.
"I should think not," exclaimed Earl. "Still I don't suppose it will do us any good to keep thinking about it. I suppose we might as well try to get a little rest as Jacques advises."
"Jacques won't be able to lie down," laughed Leon. "He's too tall."
"Not at all," protested the young Frenchman quickly, taking this remark literally. "I am but six feet two; you and Earl are at least six feet."
"Not quite," said Leon. "At any rate I was only fooling."
"I see," said Jacques soberly. He did not always catch the drift of some of the sallies his young American friends made.
"How about sleep?" exclaimed Earl. "We can get some little rest anyway."
The three young soldiers followed the example of most of their companions in the trench and lay down, with their knapsacks under their heads. Still the artillery roared. Incessant explosions shattered the night air, predicting the struggle to take place on the morrow.
CHAPTER III
THE ATTACK
"The cannonade is worse than it was last night."
"I think you're right, Leon," Jacques agreed. "That is quite natural though."
"As a final effort I suppose," said Leon.
"Exactly."
"Here's breakfast," shouted Earl, trying to make himself heard above the roar of the artillery. "That coffee looks good."
Hot coffee was furnished to every man and a meal was made of bread, sardines and cheese.
"What's the time?" asked Jacques.
"Eight-thirty," replied Earl.
"Three quarters of an hour more," sighed Jacques. "I wish it was time to start."
"Look here," cried Leon beckoning to his two companions. He was peering out from one of the low places in the parapet and Jacques and Earl quickly took their places beside him.
"You can see the German barbed wire in front of their trenches," said Leon excitedly. "Do you suppose we'll ever reach that?"
"We'll go right on over it," said Jacques confidently. "Don't you worry about that."
The scene was fascinating to the three boys. So it was also to their comrades in the regiment. As far as one could see in either direction along the trench men were lined up, waiting for the word to advance and now and then stealing a glance, out across the field that stretched between them and their goal.
"We are to keep in line with those two big trees on the hill yonder," said Jacques, pointing to a spot behind the German positions. "As long as we keep headed for them we will be all right."
"That ought to be easy enough," exclaimed Leon.
Suddenly the command was passed down the line for every man to be ready. Leon glanced at his watch; it was just nine o'clock. Every knapsack was hoisted to its owner's back and guns in hand the men began to file along the trench.
Thicker and ever faster the shells rained down. The French guns roared continuously, doing their utmost to clear the way for the infantry which was to sally forth so soon.
All at once a whistle sounded. The long line halted abruptly. A sharp command followed and with a rattle the bayonets were fixed to the rifles. Once again the whistle sounded; this time twice. Every man made the final adjustment of his equipment and glanced at his neighbor's to see if it too was in order.
"Good luck," said Jacques and he extended his right hand to Leon and Earl in turn. They shook hands solemnly and the twin brothers standing side by side gripped each other's hand without a word.
Leon looked along the line. Many of the men were grinning. Most of them were white and their faces were drawn. The young American felt queer; somehow he did not feel