Fighting in France | Page 6

real. Everything about him seemed to be taking place as in a dream. He could not realize it all.
"What are we waiting for?" he asked of Jacques and his voice sounded faint and far away.
Before he could receive an answer a German shell suddenly burst close at hand. A whisper ran along the line that a corporal and four men were hit. Another shell burst close to the same spot. Evidently the Germans had found the range.
"What are we waiting for?" Leon repeated anxiously. He glanced over Earl's shoulder at his watch. It was exactly quarter past nine.
Two blasts on the whistle sounded. That was the signal. Every man clenched his jaws and dashed at the trench wall in an effort to be the first one to climb out. A moment later and all were out. The gaps in the barbed wire that had been prepared now came into view and the men wormed their way through.
Once past this and the line was formed again. Still together, Jacques, Leon, and Earl took their places. The command was quickly given and at double-quick the troops moved straight towards the German lines.
"Forward!" shouted the captain in a loud, clear voice that could be heard even above the din of the cannonade. "Vive la France!"
With a shout the troops swept forward. From the German trenches came the sharp rattle of the rapid-fire guns and the noise of the rifles. Shells were bursting on every side. The air was full of dirt and dust thrown up by the explosives. All along the line gaps in the advancing line appeared, only to be closed up quickly and automatically.
The enemy's trenches were outlined by a long row of bursting shells. From them arose a thick pall of smoke, obscuring the German positions. At the bottom appeared red and green flames, but above all was darkness. Out of the cloud came a ceaseless rain of metal, rifles, dirt, cartridges, and even human flesh. The whole world seemed to have been suddenly transformed into a roaring, flaming cauldron.
Leon gazed about him. Many of his comrades were down; he could scarcely recognize Earl and Jacques, their faces were so blackened by smoke and dirt. Holes appeared in the line on both sides of him. Not for long, however; almost instantly the spaces filled up and the advance was continued. He looked at the captain who was leading the charge. Not one word of orders could be heard in that terrible uproar and the officers had to make signs to their men.
Sometimes the captain lay down; his men immediately did the same. If he pointed to the right the troops veered to the right. If he pointed to the left they swung to the left. Blindly they followed on. Closer and closer they came to the spot where their own shells were falling. It seemed as if the leaders must be struck down by their own artillery.
Suddenly the curtain of fire lifted and moved forward to the next line of trenches. The German trench that had been the object of the furious bombardment appeared. In many cases it had been simply blown to pieces and no trace of it could be discovered.
Leon, Earl, and Jacques had been appointed "trench-cleaners." That is, they were among those who had been detailed to clear the enemy out of all the captured trenches so that there would be no danger of the troops being attacked from the rear.
Into the battered trench the three young soldiers sprang. With them were a dozen more of their men. With bayonets affixed they made their way along. The trench seemed to have numerous spurs and it branched out in many directions. On the bottom lay many dead Germans. Protruding from one side was the leg of some luckless infantryman who had been buried alive by the explosion of a giant projectile.
"This way," urged Jacques as he turned from the main trench and darted down a long passage-way.
"Careful, Jacques," warned Leon. "Don't go too fast."
"They're all dead in here," cried the young Frenchman exultantly. He was taking an active part in ridding his country of the invaders and like anyone in those circumstances he reveled in the task.
"Don't be so sure they're all dead," cried Earl. "You never can tell."
Scarcely had he spoken when they came face to face with three Germans. With rifle grasped tightly in his hands Jacques was preparing to run the first of them through when all three of them suddenly threw up their hands. "Kameraden! Kameraden!" they cried eagerly.
"Don't touch them, Jacques," shouted Leon. "They're surrendering."
It was but the work of a moment to disarm the three Germans and they were turned over to one of the French soldiers who was directed to lead them back to his lines.
"That was easy enough," exclaimed Jacques