Uncle Sam's Boys with Pershing's Troops Part 29

For a moment he could see nothing, save that German sh.e.l.l-fire had blown the barbed wire defenses to pieces, clearing the way for the German invaders to reach them.

In the near distance d.i.c.k made out the shadowy figures of the men in the first wave of the German a.s.sault.

Rifle-fire began to roll out from the French soldiers. From somewhere at the rear, perhaps from emplacements in or near the French support trenches, the steady drumming of machine-gun fire began. The air was filled with death.

d.i.c.k Prescott's blood thrilled with the realization that he was at earnest grip with the Boches!

CHAPTER XIX

A "GUEST" IN PRISON CAMP

In the terrific din of the barrage-fire the men of the first German wave came on like so many silent specters.

They did not run forward, but moved at a fast walk. It was necessary that they save their breath to use in the hand-to-hand struggle that must follow.

Suddenly a French bomb left the trench, striking the ground just in advance of the oncoming Germans. The pink flash of the explosion lighted the set faces of three or four men of the enemy, one of whom went to earth as a fragment from the bomb struck him.

Then bombs fell fast, all along the line. Prescott, singling out an enemy while the flash lasted, let drive at him with a shot from his automatic.

Though several of the Huns fell, the advancing line continued unhesitatingly. The last few steps, past what was left of the barbed wire, the Germans hurled themselves at greater speed.

Then invaders and defenders clashed. German bayonets thrust viciously down into the trench, while French bayonets reached up to dispute them.

d.i.c.k had backed away from the fire step. His back against the further wall he was using his automatic pistol to the best advantage.

The first German to leap into the trench landed almost at the feet of Captain Greg Holmes, who had crouched to receive him.

Rising, in one of his best old-time football tackles, Greg threw the Hun backward with fearful force, then sat on his chest.

"You're my prisoner!" Holmes shouted at the prostrate. "Try to rise if you dare!"

So hot had been the reception of the first wave that those of the Germans who did not manage to leap down into the trenches, recoiled in dismay.

Then the second wave of raiders came up, only to find that the French had recovered their second wind. Great as the odds were the French held their own, thrusting, shooting and clubbing with rifle b.u.t.ts.

From his position on his prisoner Greg fired coolly as often as he could do so without endangering a French comrade. He longed to rush in closer, but did not intend to let his prisoner get away. Only one German got close enough to thrust at Holmes, who shot him through the heart before the bayonet lunge could be made.

What was left of the first and second waves was being beaten back.

Major Wells, Prescott and Noll Terry leaped to the parapet with two French soldiers in their section to beat back the foe.

Just then a third wave arrived. The fighting became brisker.

d.i.c.k Prescott felt a weight against his head. He staggered dizzily, felt arms clutch at him, and had only a hazy notion of what followed.

The Germans went back, carrying a few prisoners with them. A minute later the enemy barrage lifted.

"You may get up now," Greg admonished his captive, as he leaped to his feet.

"You've accounted for one of the enemy," smiled Captain Ribaut, as he came up.

"Captured him at the first pop out of the box," Holmes declared proudly. "I told him to lie still, and he surely did. I'd have hurt him if he had tried to get away."

"How did you take him?" Ribaut asked, kneeling beside the still man.

"Threw him with an old football tackle."

"The Hun's neck is broken," reported the French captain, raising the enemy's head and letting it fall.

"What's that?" Greg demanded astonished. "Say, you're right, aren't you? And to think of all the good fighting I missed through holding on to that 'prisoner'! d.i.c.k will tease the life out of me! By the way, where is he?"

"I thought he went this way," Ribaut answered. "We must find him. I hope he wasn't hurt."

Thoroughly alarmed Greg wheeled and darted along the trench, looking for his chum. Then he raced back, going off in the opposite direction.

"Prescott isn't here!" he gasped, and sprang up at the parapet.

"Here! Don't do that," Major Wells called to him, in a low voice.

But there was no stopping Holmes. Bending low he raced along in front of the trench, looking for the body, dead or alive, of his chum.

d.i.c.k, however, was not to be found. Greg continued the search desperately.

Had the Germans sent up flares just then, and turned on their machine guns, Greg would have made an inevitable mark.

Captain Ribaut, more practical, sent a French corporal through the nearby sections for word of Captain Prescott.

"Captain Holmes, return to the trench," Major Wells ordered, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

So Greg obeyed, in time almost to b.u.mp into Captain Ribaut.

"Four men from this platoon are missing, and presumably were captured by the enemy," said that officer. "I much fear that Captain Prescott was also taken away by the enemy."

"What? Captured by the Huns?" Greg demanded, divided between amazement and consternation. "d.i.c.k captured? Let me lead a force over to the enemy line to bring him back!"

"Only the division commander could sanction that," replied Captain Ribaut, with grave sympathy. "And it is never done, Captain."

"Oh, I wish I had B company at my back, with A company thrown in for good measure!" quivered Greg. "But say, can't there be a mistake? Didn't Prescott go back wounded?"

"No; I have sent to the dressing station, and he was not seen there," Captain Ribaut replied.

At first Greg couldn't believe that his chum had been captured.

When the probability of it did dawn on him nothing but his position as an officer kept him from sitting down on the fire step and sobbing.

"I'd sooner know he was killed than that he had fallen into Hun hands," Holmes sputtered. "But, if they have got him, then I'll make a business of mistreating Germans after this!"

Capture was precisely what had happened to d.i.c.k Prescott. It was not for long that he had remained dazed. Two German soldiers fairly dragged him across No Man's Land, his heels b.u.mping over the rough ground.