The Boy Volunteers with the French Airmen
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"Lieutenant," he said, "issue a permit for these boys to ride on any available train to Paris."
The boys expressed their thanks to the officer, and, after giving their names and home addresses, they received a card, which stated that the Army transport service permitted them to ride on any train where there was available room, at the discretion of the officer in charge of the train.
"I should advise you to see the officer at the station in the morning, and get him to assign you to a train number, as the quickest way," said the clerk, as he handed them the permit.
"Nothing like determination," said Ralph. "It is bound to pull you through."
It was too late for them to return to the aviation field that evening, so after considerable search, they finally found a room, and after discussing the events of the day fell asleep, and awoke long after the sun had risen.
"We've got to do some hustling," said Ralph. "We ought to see Tom this morning and tell him of our good luck."
They partook of a hasty breakfast, and were at the station in order to get an assignment. But this was not an easy matter. They waited for nearly two hours before they were able to reach the proper official.
"I am sorry to say that we cannot take you today, but I will try to make a reservation for you tomorrow. Come here after four this afternoon," said the officer.
"Now for the aviation field," said Alfred.
They were detained for more than an hour watching several newly arrived regiments embark on a train, which slowly pulled out to the south, and it was nearly noon when the grounds were reached. There seemed to be a change in the place. The hangars were empty, and no machines visible. A score of men were taking down the temporary hangars and from them it was learned that the entire corps had started at eight o'clock for the southern station.
"That's too bad!" said Ralph regretfully. "I wish we had started back earlier."
"Then we might go to the hospital," suggested Alfred.
The head surgeon remembered the boys. "It's too bad," he said. "Lieutenant Winston has been removed to the hospital at Dunkirk, and will leave for England tomorrow; but his sister is still here,—ah, here she comes."
"Oh, I am so glad to see you. Brother asked for you before he left. If you are going to England, you must go to see him. He is at Hempstead."
"We expect to go to Paris tomorrow, and we are sorry not to be able to see him," Alfred told her.
They at once returned to Dunkirk, and awaited anxiously until four o'clock. Before they had an opportunity to speak to the officer in charge, he shook his head, to indicate that there was no room. They lingered about, but it appeared to be a hopeless task. Four tracks ran by the station office, and these were constantly filled with empty cars, then loaded up, and drawn out. They watched the proceedings until the sun went down, when tired and hungry, they crossed the street, entered a coffee house, and ate a hurried supper.
As they were moving out the doorway, Ralph stopped. Turning to Alfred, he said: "We are chumps; that's about the size of it."
"Why so?" asked Alfred.
"We have the permits, haven't we? Why are we waiting for that fellow at the station to get us an assignment?" replied Ralph.
"That's a fact; let's make our own assignment; come on," answered Alfred. "Is this train going south?" he asked, addressing a soldier who was about to enter a half-filled compartment.
"Aw! I dare say it is," was the jolly response.
"Get aboard," said Alfred.
Unabashed, they swung themselves up on the running board, and entered the compartment. The occupants glanced at them for a moment, and seeing the trim uniforms, at once became inquisitive.
"How did you happen to be directed to this train?" asked one of them.
"Oh, we attended to that ourselves," said Alfred.
"Our permit's all right, but we couldn't wait for them to make up their minds when we ought to go; so here we are," said Ralph, with a laugh.
"Well, you fellows'll do; but it's a long way to Tipperary," said a voice, which trailed off into the tune of the well-known song. His companions chimed in, and it was not long before the occupants of the adjoining compartments joined in the song. It was a jolly crowd, but no one seemed to know where they were going. All had heard of the rapid advance of the Germans toward Paris, and that General French was trying to impede their advance somewhere to the south.
It was fully nine o'clock that night before the train made a real start. Before that time they were pushed around on the various sidings for an hour, and it was a relief to see the fields and feel the continual motion of the train as it finally speeded away.
There was no time for talk now. Each tried to find a comfortable place in order to get some sleep. They dozed and dozed, as most people are liable to do in uncomfortable surroundings, and some hours afterwards an orderly appeared at the door, shouting:
"All out, men; form in ranks."
"I suppose we shall have to get out, too," said Alfred.
"Why, no; this can't be Paris," replied Ralph.
"I know bally well it isn't," said a voice.
That settled it; tired and sleepy they swung off the running board, and looked at the long lines forming at the side of the train.
"Do you know where we are?" asked Ralph, addressing a soldier at his side.
"Don't know, my boy; we've had a steady run, though, for about three hours," was the reply.
"We are east of St. Quentin; we passed through the city half an hour ago; this isn't much of a hill we are on, but the Germans and French fought a battle on this very spot in the campaign of 1870-1," said an officer.
Alfred saluted the officer, and asked: "How far are we from Paris, sir?"
"I think it must be fully a hundred miles," was the reply.
The men were ordered to line up, and soon the order came to march. As the boys had no other place to go, and the train was even then backing toward the city, they marched alongside of the column. The tramp was across open fields for a half-mile, where a road was sighted, but it was lined with troops, and heavy artillery, going eastwardly.
The column continued on, parallel with the road. It was dry, dusty and warm. There was a hum of sounds, and occasionally a boom or two, which the boys recognized from their previous experiences. The most emphatic voices were those of the drivers, who were piloting the horses drawing the artillery and caissons. An hour's march brought them to a small stream, which was crossed without waiting for boats or hunting for bridges, as it was easily waded.
Across the stream they ascended an elevation, at the crest of which was a line of soldiers busily at work with spades and pick-axes. Trenches were being formed. They were cheered by the workers, but there was no halting. On they went over level ground, only to meet another line of men similarly engaged. Several hundred feet beyond an order came like a shot: "Halt!"
An orderly came riding up at full speed, and looked around. "We are waiting for orders, I suppose," remarked a lieutenant.
The orderly put spurs to his horse, and rode to the right, as he espied a group of horsemen. "Form your men along this line, and dig in," he directed.
The order was given: "File to the right; halt; stack arms."
Several lorries, which had been following them, came up, and at a word of command the men began to unload shovels and picks. This began to look like business. It was now growing light, but it still lacked a half hour before sunrise.
"Why can't we lend a hand?" inquired Ralph.
"Of course we can," answered Alfred.
They were alongside in an instant. Ralph jumped into the vehicle, and helped to hand out the implements, while Alfred tried to edge his way in. Their earnestness attracted the officer in charge, and he smiled, and nodded his head in approval. Thus two van loads were dumped out, and carried forward of the rows of stacked arms.
An engineer officer marked out the line of the trench, and the men were set to work. They were now doing the job for a real purpose, as during their month of training in England these men had been instructed how to go about the business of making trenches, and it was wonderful to see how quickly the furrows were dug out. They were about four feet deep, the earth being thrown up on the side toward the enemy, thus making a shelter trench five feet deep.
As soon as the main line was thus completed, traverses were cut, leading out at right angle to the rear of the main trench. These were formed in zig-zag fashion, the object being to form shelter sections along the entire trench, so that those within would not be subjected to what is called an enfilading fire.
CHAPTER V
ON THE FIRING LINE
"Look at the guns back there," shouted Ralph, as the company marched back to get their first breakfast after three hours of hard work.
"Come on, boys!" said the corporal in charge, smiling at the boys. "You've worked pretty hard for lads of your age; come and have something to eat."
"So we will," said Alfred; "but what are the guns doing back there?" he asked, as he pointed out a battery which had limbered up and was wheeling into position.
"You will see in a few moments," replied the corporal, and before they reached the mess wagon the guns began to roar.
"How far away are the Germans?" asked Ralph.
"About two and a half miles, I should judge," replied the corporal, looking at the battery.
"How can you tell by looking at the guns?" asked Ralph.
"By their angle," was the answer.
Before they ceased speaking, the first shot was fired, then another and another, all of them trial shots, as one of the soldiers explained. Then another battery to the left, heretofore unnoticed, began to fire, while one posted higher up on the right, and two more beyond, chimed in. This was a new experience to the boys, as the Belgians, with whom they had formerly associated, were lacking in field pieces compared with those they now saw and heard.
The challenge was promptly accepted by the Germans, and within fifteen minutes the whole crest to the east of them, probably two miles distant, seemed to be ablaze. It was singular, however, that none of the missiles fell near the troops where the boys were located. On a little elevation to the right of the kitchen vans the boys noticed a group of officers with field glasses, intently scanning the rear of their position.
"The blooming blokes are shooting too far," remarked a soldier.
"Why are they doing that?" asked Alfred, who overheard him.
"Oh, they'll get the range in time," he replied.
"There's the first airship, to give them a pointer," said the corporal, as an airplane appeared in sight.
"Two of our machines are coming up," shouted Ralph. "Now there'll be a fight."
Ralph was right. The two English machines steered straight for the oncoming Fokker, the latter veering to the left in time to prevent too close a meeting. Within a minute three more German machines came into sight, their appearance being answered by four of their own machines, which came up from the rear, and sailed straight across above them to the German positions on the crest of the hill. They were much higher than the German machines, the reason being that the enemy had a number of anti-airship guns to meet any flyers who dared to cross the line at a low altitude.
It was, indeed, an interesting sight to observe the numerous airplanes, which were employed by the two forces. They seemed to be flying back and forth in the utmost confusion, and, frequently, puffs of smoke would indicate that they were firing at each other.
The corporal with whom the boys talked seemed to be unusually well informed, and quite a number of the soldiers addressed him for information.
"How do they recognize an enemy?" asked Ralph.
"Oh, that's an easy matter," he replied. "I suppose the flyers in the air do it on the same principle that we are in the habit of recognizing automobiles. Why, I have a lad not ten years old who can tell the make of almost any auto the moment he sees it. Generally, if the make of the plane is similar to those attached to the aviator's side he is able to recognize it by the special mark it carries."
"What mark do you mean?" asked Alfred.
"Why, the English and the French mark is in the form of a circle, generally three, each circle being of a different color," was the answer.
"There is one,—why, it's red, white and blue," said Ralph.
"That's correct,—those are the colors of the Allies."
"What are the German colors?" asked Ralph.
"Black and white," said the corporal.
"Oh, yes, they have a cross," said Alfred.
"Yes; a cross in imitation of the iron cross, so far as its shape is concerned," he answered; "that is, a black cross on a white field."
The company marched back to the line. During the next half hour there was nothing but expectancy, waiting, waiting,—that most trying thing for soldiers, who know that a battle is impending. Then a hundred feet to their rear there was a terrific explosion, which startled every one. This was followed by others, but none reached the trench line.
Thus, during the whole day, there was an exchange of artillery, the greatest damage being done to those in the rear who were trying to get to the front.
"With the long range guns the great danger isn't always with the fellows in front," said the corporal.
At four that afternoon the company was startled by an order to leave the trenches and fall to the rear. Every one cast questioning glances, but the knapsacks and rolls were quickly seized, and within ten minutes they were in line with the regiments to the right and the left. There was no hurrying or disorder.
"I wonder why we are going back?" asked Ralph.
"I suppose it's our business to retreat," returned the corporal.
They marched fully a mile to the rear, passing on the way at least half a dozen lines of trenches, which had been thrown up since the boys covered the ground the night before. Every trench line was filled with soldiers, those in the front being the first to retire. On the way they saw how the great shells had played havoc with many of the works.
They again crossed the river, and at six o'clock that night a new line was formed, and the spades and picks were again brought into use. The booming of cannon was incessant, and, although they tried to get some sleep after midnight, they were frequently aroused by the marching of troops. At daylight they were again marched out of the trenches, and a quarter of a mile from the last trench halted to partake of breakfast.
The march was directly south, and at noon they reached a town of some importance, called Chauny. They went through without halting, crossed the river Oise, and at four o'clock halted on the eastern banks of a stream, which flowed northwardly. Here they waited for orders. A picturesque bridge spanned the stream, and the boys wandered across. West of the river was a broad expanse of country, perfectly level, and thousands of people from the nearby villages lined the road, all crossing to the west.
All were excited, and seemed to be going toward the narrow road, which led to the left, and, naturally, the boys followed the movement of the crowd. Their curiosity was soon satisfied, for beyond was a sight which caused their hearts to beat with joy. Fully a dozen airplanes were drawn up in line, and the boys started forward on a run that seemed to instill the same activity in many others present.
"There's a Morane," said Ralph.
"Yes; and that's Tom getting out of the machine," shouted Alfred, as they rushed up and greeted Tom, who looked at them in astonishment.
"And how did you get here?" he inquired.
"Came over with the troops," explained Alfred.
"With what troops?" he was asked.
"Don't know," answered Ralph, "but they are from Essex."
"Well, we've been on duty for a day directly over the lines east of St. Quentin," said Tom.
"Did you have a fight?" asked Alfred.
"I should say we did," answered Tom. "Brought down two, at any rate, and it was pretty hot for about an hour. So you are on your way to Paris; sorry you didn't get back before we started," he added.
"We got to the grounds several hours after you left," said Alfred.
"Glad you came; we can put you up, if you are willing," remarked Tom.
"Thank you for the invitation; we helped them on the trenches and have done considerable marching, so it's better than going back to camp," said Ralph.
The boys were up early in the morning, but didn't have the least idea what steps to take to continue their journey. Everything in the way of transportation was reserved for the troops. Thousands of people were leaving their homes, and people with household effects, mounted on all sorts of conveyances, were noted on all sides, although at this time the Germans were not within ten miles of the river. The nearest railway to the south, which ran east and west along the southern bank of the river Aisne, was fully ten miles distant from this point.
Tom was on hand early, and greeted the boys most affectionately.
"I have been thinking I might be able to help you out a bit," he said, after a little talk. "We are ordered to the station near Villers-Cotterets, and that's only forty miles from Paris."
"How can you help us?" inquired Ralph excitedly.
"Probably I can give you a lift in the machine," he said.
"How far is that from here?" asked Alfred.
"Twenty miles," replied Tom, and the two boys looked at each other hopefully, as he left them.
Tom re-appeared at three o'clock, and informed them that they would start in fifteen minutes.
"If you are ready for the trip, jump in and make yourselves comfortable," he said, and they required no second invitation.
The dainty Morane just suited them, and they were in their seats in an instant. Tom then tossed them a light package, which they tucked away, and the engine began to buzz. As they glanced around, two more machines seemed to vie with them in taking the air, then, as they again looked around, four more machines began to move, and soon all were on the wing, flying side by side, excepting two large Farman machines, which were well in the lead.
Up, up, up, they went, the machines on line with each other maintaining a height of about four thousand feet, while the Farmans were about five hundred feet higher. Within a half hour they saw in the distance what appeared to be a silver ribbon running east and west, which proved to be the river Aisne, and to the east they saw the city of Soissons. The beautiful aviation ground was reached within an hour, and they alighted in front of a magnificent group of hangars in the center of well-tilled fields, so located as to afford a view in all directions from the grounds. The machine was then put up for the night, and Tom and the boys were glad to turn in for a much-needed rest.
It was now the first day of September, and there had been nearly one month of war. The immense German forces had hewn their way through Belgium and entered France, reaching the cities of Laon, Epernay, and Chalons-sur-Marnek, thus forming a huge circle. They were within forty-five miles of Paris.
When the boys awoke the next morning the first words that greeted them were: "The Germans are within five miles of Soissons."
They rushed over to the hangar, but the machine and Tom were not to be found. This was another source of grief to them, and they stared about, and wondered at this new turn of affairs until, meeting an attendant, Ralph inquired:
"Do you know where the Morane has gone?"
"They all started on a reconnoitering trip at five this morning," was the reply.
"Do you think they will come back here?" asked Alfred.
"That is doubtful," answered the man.
"Then we shall have to make our way to Paris as best we can," said Ralph. "Do you think we would have any chances on the railroad?"
"It's doubtful. I should take my chances over the highway directly south, if I wanted to make Paris," answered the man. Then, after a little reflection, he added: "A large English force is expected to be here from Laon, and it may arrive before noon. Possibly the flyers will return, but if the German forces are too close, they will go on to the next station at Crepy, directly south of this place."
"Then that's the place for us," proposed Alfred, as he thanked their informant.
They had no trouble in getting breakfast and after waiting for an hour, during which all sorts of rumors were floating about, they concluded that their only course would be to commence the trip. It was not necessary for them to inquire the way, as the highway, in the distance was filled with fugitives, all trying to get to Paris, or, at least, to avoid the invaders while there was yet time.
Reaching the highway, they moved along with the procession, and, shortly before twelve o'clock, reached Crepy, ten miles from Soissons. They were now twenty-five miles from the center of Paris, and after getting a good meal they again took up the march over a beautiful road, which ran southeast.
CHAPTER VI
VIGOROUS RED CROSS WORK
A mile from the town they came within sight of a cross road, filled with an immense concourse, which seemed to be wending its way east. Approaching nearer, they recognized troops, artillery and horsemen, the latter moving along in the fields parallel with the roadway.
"It seems to me the firing is much nearer than when we started out this morning," said Ralph.
As they passed through the marchers, and proceeded along the highway, they saw that troops were noticed posted everywhere, and that batteries were lying in wait in every advantageous spot.
"I think we made a mistake in taking this road. We should have traveled the one which went to the west," said Ralph.
"Then let's go out the first road that crosses this," replied Alfred.
Meanwhile the sounds of battle came nearer and nearer. The artillery posted on the elevation began to speak, and before there was time to realize it the boys were within the battle zone, and bearing down on the road along which they were traveling. They had no trouble, however, in leaving the road, as all the fences were down, and many of the fields were cut up with the hoofs of horses, and creased by the huge artillery wheels.
To add to the confusion, shells began to fall all about them, and occasionally a terrific explosion would follow, leaving them dazed and startled. They ascended a hill, and, looking back, saw nothing but dense clouds of smoke, and a scene of indescribable confusion.
"What's that down there?" shouted Alfred, pointing to a group of vans close by the side of a stream.
"That must be a Red Cross station; so it is," said Ralph.
Their footsteps were hurried, but before the place was reached they saw stretcher bearers, and also noticed the wounded being unloaded from a field van. Glancing to the left they saw fully a dozen vans of like character, as indicated by the great red crosses on their sides, rushing up the narrow street from the southeast.
"Let's give them a hand," said Alfred.
A business-looking surgeon stood at the rear end of one of the vans, as the boys approached. They saluted. "Can we do anything to help out?" asked Ralph.
The doctor looked at them for a moment, apparently non-plussed at their appearance.
"Yes, indeed; we need you and many more willing ones like you."
"What shall we do?" asked Alfred.
The surgeon drew a pad from his pocket, wrote a few words on it, handed it to the boys, and said: "Present this to the officer yonder."
The officer indicated received the slip, while directing the disposition of a wounded soldier, glanced at it hurriedly, then looked at the boys. "Ah, want to get on duty? We can accommodate you; there, put those stretchers in the van. One of you can take this to the supply van," he said. Ralph seized the paper, and looked about.
"The van with the flag on it," explained the officer.
Ralph rushed across the intervening space, and presented the paper to a Red Cross nurse, who smiled sweetly as she glanced at the paper, and looked inquiringly at Ralph. She then turned, seized three packages, and handed them to Ralph, while he thanked her and quickly rushed away. The packages were stored in the van, water was supplied to the containers in the vehicle, and the moment the last article was on board, the van started.