The Khaki Boys Over the Top | Page 2

be recognized," came the order from the
sentry, evidently acting on advice from the lieutenant in command of
this part of the American trench.
There was a period of silent waiting on the part of the three who stood
so close together, and then they heard their immediate commanding
officer say:
"Pass on. You'll find your friends just beyond here."

A moment later the two newcomers were grasping hands in the dark
with the three waiting ones.
"The five Brothers are united again," said Roger Barlow in a low voice.
"Sooner than I expected," commented Jimmy Blaise. "Now we can go
over the top together."
"Over the top, may we all go together, in the wind and the rain or in
damp, foggy weather," was Bob Dalton's contribution. He sometimes
"perpetrated verse," as he dubbed it--a reminder of his cub reporter
days.
"But say, Jimmy, how did you manage to get here?" asked Franz.
"Walked," was Jimmy Blaise's laconic answer. "They haven't had to
carry me on a stretcher--at least not lately."
"Oh, you know what I mean," said Franz. "I mean, did you ask to be
transferred from your station to this trench?"
"No, and that's the funny part of it," said Roger Barlow. "You know
after we wrote our letters to-night--or, rather last night, for it's past
twelve now--Blazes and I went back to our station."
"Yes, and we came here to wait for the zero signal," interpolated Dal.
"Well, we hadn't been out in our trench very long before we were
relieved, and told to report to Lieutenant Dobson here," resumed Jimmy.
"And when we remembered that this was where you three were
stationed, say, maybe we weren't glad!"
"We are of a gladness also much!" whispered the Polish lad, and there
was rather a pathetic note in his voice. "It is a goodness gracious to
have you here!"
"Say, you can do more things to the English language than the Boches
can on an air raid," chuckled Jimmy.

"Oh, well, it is of a much hardness to speak," sighed Iggy.
"Well, there's no fault to be found with your fighting, that's sure!"
declared Roger. "Put her there, old pal!" and he clasped hands with his
foreign "Brother."
"How's everything here?" asked Jimmy, when the five had taken such
easy positions as were available in the narrow trench.
"We're all ready for the zero hour," replied Bob. "Everybody's on their
tiptoes. I wish it was over--I mean here. This waiting is worse than
fighting."
"It sure is," commented Franz. "But it won't be long now."
"What time do you make it?" asked Bob.
"Must be quite some after three," said Jimmy in a low voice. "It was
nearly three when we got our orders to come here."
Roger took out a tiny pocket flash lamp, and, placing one finger over
the bulb so that no rays would escape, held the dim glow over his
wrist-watch.
"Quarter to four," he announced.
"Fifteen minutes more," sighed Dal.
"They'll seem like fifteen years, though, Bob," commented Jimmy.
A reaction, in the shape of silence, came upon the Khaki Boys--"five
Brothers" as they called themselves, for they had become that since
their participation in the World War. Tensely and quietly they waited in
the trench for the hands of time to move to the hour of four. This was
the "zero" period, when in a wave of men and steel, or lead and high
explosives, the Americans would go over the top, in an endeavor to
dislodge the Germans from a strong position.
Only a few hours before, after each had written a letter home, the

missives having been sent back of the lines to be posted, the five lads
had solemnly shaken hands at parting. The two sergeants--James Blaise
and Roger Barlow--went to a distant part of the intricate trench system,
while the two corporals, Robert Dalton and Ignace Pulinski and
Sergeant Franz Schnitzel were together in a ditch near the middle of the
barbed wire entanglements. And now, by a strange turn of fate, they
were all together again, waiting for the final word that might send then
all into eternity, or cause them to live horribly misshapen.
Something of this seemed to be felt by the five Khaki Boys as they
stood in the mud and darkness waiting. For it had rained and the trench
was slimy on the bottom in spite of the "duck boards."
"I wonder where we'll be this time to-morrow," mused Bob in a low
voice.
"Oh, cut out the 'sob sister' stuff!" said Jimmy, a bit sharply. "Isn't it
gloomy enough here without that?"
They talked in the lowest whispers, and there were the murmurs of
whispers on either side of them, for their comrades up and down the
trenches felt the same strain, and relieved