CHAPTER XII Surrounded

“TRAPPED, eh? I was afraid something like that would occur!” Lieutenant Whitcomb exclaimed. “It’s not the first time the Heinies have vacated ground and then quietly occupied it again; a trick of theirs to take us by surprise when we go after them. Well, this is bad for us in two ways.”

“How’s that, Herb?” asked Don.

“Why, you can see it. In the first place we’re surrounded, for you may bet the Huns are in close touch with each other; they always are. So we probably cannot get out, as Gill says. If we try to hold out, then when our boys make the next drive we may be between two fires. But our worst fear is of discovery before the next drive commences.”

“We’re in here pretty snug, Lieutenant; they may never get on to us at all,” offered the corporal.

“That’s possible, but hardly likely. We’ve got to lie low.”

“We’ve a crackerjack place to defend, Herb,” Don said.

“Very good and I don’t want to be a pessimist, but with a good many hundred against twelve—well, we might hold ’em off for a time, even with only one machine gun. But there’s a limit to grub and ammunition, and especially to water. What do you fellows know about water near here?”

“A spring run ’bout as big as a shoe lacin’ over yon a couple o’ hundred yards to the northeast,” said Jennings.

“Very good. Who will volunteer to refill all canteens?”

“I’ll go, Lieutenant!”

“Me, too!”

“Count me in on that, please!”

“Say, Lieutenant, if I kin shove my ol’ face into that ’ere riv’let fer ’bout five minutes, I wouldn’t want another drink fer close on to a week!” Jennings declared.

“Oh, boy, you must be kin to a camel!”

“Sure, an’ my middle name’s tank. Better let me go, Lieutenant; I know the place.”

“Who do you want with you?” Herbert asked.

“That ’ere young lieutenant feller that I run acrosst a while back, if he’ll go.” Jennings indicated Don, who was up at the other end cleaning his automatic.

And so it befell that the boy and the big Pennsylvania mountaineer were once more on duty together and it may be recorded that they got back with every canteen brimming. Gill, meanwhile, had crept over to a previous find of his, a former German position that had been discarded for no apparent reason and he returned with the complete parts of a wooden bucket, hoops and all, which was promptly put together and in turn filled with water. Thereafter, admonished to drink and eat as little as possible, lie low and make no noise and above all to be ready for discovery at any time, the squad went into what Herbert called hopeful retirement and thus remained until the day ended and the night passed without incident. Dry leaves and spruce boughs made warm and comfortable beds.

The morning of October 2d began ominously; at the first peep of day all were awake and some bantering chatter was heard among the men. Presently the corporal, who had crept to the outer rocks to take a look around, held up his hand for silence and came crawling back.

“They’re coming down the valley, sir, as you reckoned they’d do,” he said to Lieutenant Whitcomb and a moment later the sound of tramping feet could be heard.

“Slip a spruce bough over the end of that Browning gun!” Herbert ordered. “Now, men; all quiet! Corporal, pass that along. Tell the boys that our lives may depend on our ability to lie low. And they are to understand this: if the Heinies get on to us now, we are not going out of here alive and prisoners! We’ll all croak rather than that. Be ready for action, but nobody must go off half-cocked. Corporal, you and Gill and Judson and Kelly and Farnham and Tomlinson man the up hillside; Lieutenant Richards, Jennings, McNabb, Wilson, Gerhardt and myself will look to the valley. Silence now and no heads up. I can see what is going on through this crevice and I’ll report from time to time.”

On came the men in gray-green, probably a full regiment of infantry, including a dozen machine-gun squads. They marched well, these sons of the Fatherland, and they were mostly young and vigorous-looking men, presenting not the slightest suggestion of weariness, nor of being underfed. But there was not a word spoken among them; the entire number was as obedient to evident orders as though possessing but one brain and as the soldiers filed along the valley and around the little hill, past and not fifty yards away from the position of the hidden Americans, they reminded Herbert of so many automatons. Thus they entered the ranks, were taught and trained, and thus they fought, a wonderfully coördinated whole, but without individual incentive. The boy understood, as never before, how it was that the German army was at once so remarkably pliable and effective in strategic movement and yet he had seen that in battle the Huns were readily disconcerted when confronted with conditions foreign to their teaching and understanding.

Tramp, tramp, tramp. The boys were indeed marching, but they were not the sort of boys, nor did they have the end in view that made them, as in the old song, pleasant to contemplate by those twelve Americans up among the rocks within hailing distance, but as yet unsuspected by the Huns.

That muffled jarring of the earth from many tramping men would haunt Don Richards’ memory as long as he lived. But perhaps he would need to remember it but a very short time, for how could the little band fail being discovered, and Herbert had declared they would die fighting. So be it; Don for one would stick by his friend.

There was a sharp command given to the marching men below. Instantly the nearest footfalls ceased, though beyond the little hill they were heard to go on and on, the sound growing fainter; then ceasing. More commands given to those near by and a general confusion of breaking ranks ensued; the unslinging of equipment followed.

Herbert, his eye against the slit between two boulders, felt a momentary sinking at the heart when he realized that this company, at the rear of the column, was separating from the others of its unit and was stopping here, perhaps for breakfast, or to rest; probably it had been night marching.

For how long could the Yank squad remain undiscovered? And remaining so, would it not be a veritable torture within this narrow defile, hardly able to change position? Well, for grit and determination, in any event Whitcomb knew he could rely on the squad; there were none better nor more loyal; no better shots in the whole Army.

The German company prepared camp at length. The men ate breakfast with the methodical exactness that characterizes all the Huns’ doings, though they were four times as long at it as the Americans would have been. Each man carried his allotment of food and utensils; each with a regularity that showed long practice got out his duffel and fell to the task. They sat in little groups and the mumbled words from the few who conversed came to the squad up in the rocks like a dull murmur. Herbert noted that the officers, four in number, kept to one side, standing, and talking very earnestly, one of them gesticulating toward the south. Evidently something was on foot that meant a still more determined resistance to the Americans and this was the company in reserve of the regiment that was intending to hold the woods at this point.

The young officer knew that his men must become impatient to see what was going on, so he relinquished his place to Don for a peep; then beckoned the corporal. Farther along the rocky basin some of the men were at another peep-hole they had found and one fellow was trying to lift his eyes just above the level rocks, but Herbert sternly motioned him down; then crawled over and explained again the inevitable result of being discovered. This admonition he imparted to each of the others also and the agreement again was to try to hold the place in any event.

Hours wore on. The sky became entirely overcast, the air damp with a suggestion of rain. From time to time it would get brighter and the sun would appear for a few minutes. Perfect quiet was maintained in the rock basin, though after a time Herbert called Don’s attention to a silent game of cards going on at the other end of their stronghold. That indicated the American spirit: next door to death or imprisonment at the hands of the Hun, yet getting what fun and cheerfulness they could.

Noontime came. Herbert set the example of not eating. It went harder with some of the fellows that they could not smoke, for the white fumes might be seen below.

The enforced inaction was becoming terribly tiresome, but the cause of some whispered jests at that:

“I’ve completely wore out this here rock what I’m a lyin’ on,” commented the chap from the Pennsylvania mountains.

“Listen, fellow, this old earth right here is good enough for me. It’s a blamed sight softer than Heinie lead.”

“I wish the ‘corp’ would take a notion to get out his mouth organ and play a jig. He might charm those Jerries down there so that they couldn’t do a thing.”

“Sho! The only thing that charms them is tin-pan music and a bass drum. I expect old man Wagner is right down there with ’em now.”

“Him? He’s dead! His noise killed him long time ago.”

“No, sir; I took him prisoner last week and showed him some eats. He said the dinner horn was the prettiest music he ever heard.”

“Those fellows they call Faust and Mephistopheles, they were Huns, weren’t they?”

“Sure, but a Frog set ’em to music; that’s why it’s worth listening to.”

“I’ll bet if we all started singin’ ‘The Watch on the Rhine’ out loud, those Jerries down there would pull their freight for Berlin in two minutes; they’d think we were ghosts.”

“Sho! You’d have to sing it in German.”

“Would, eh? No, thanks! My throat’s a bit sore now as ’tis. Wonder if the feller that invented that language kept pigs and learned the sound of it from them.”

“Sh! Lay low an’ quit gabblin’, you duffers!” whispered the watcher at one peep hole. “Here comes two Heinies up the hill!”

Don, at the other rock fissure, turned and spoke to Herbert and the corporal. A hasty and whispered order went around the rock basin and in the quiet that ensued the sound of heavily shod feet, treading among loose stones and of rustling leaves, could be distinctly heard.