CHAPTER XXIII

FACING THE HUN

Just this side of one of the lines of trenches the regiment halted at the word of the commander. Then it stood at attention and presented arms while from out the trenches came an endless line of men who had held that trench for France and now were yielding their place to the ardent young soldiers of the sister republic across the sea.

There was a strong impulse to cheer on both sides, but that might have betrayed to the enemy the change that was taking place in that sector of the line, and this for strategic reasons, it was desirable to avoid.

Soon the last of the war-worn veterans was lost in the darkness. Then, with infinite caution the boys of the old Thirty-seventh marched into the trenches, guided only by lanterns that waved low before them like so many fireflies.

So perfectly the movement had been planned, so carefully had been mapped out in advance the exact location that each unit of the command was to occupy, that, within an hour after the substitution had been made, the entire regiment was placed, and, apart from those detailed for duty, was sound asleep!

Curiosity ran riot when the army boys woke in their unfamiliar surroundings. At last they had reached the trenches, that magic word that they had heard again and again in the daily discussions of the last three years, and they studied every detail of their new surroundings with the keenest interest and zest.

Here they were to live, here some of them, beyond a question, were to die. The thought was sobering, and on that first day there was little of the gaiety and jest that had marked their life in the camps behind.

"Well, Bart, old scout, we're in for it now," said Frank, after breakfast, as he placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"In for fair," responded Bart.

"We're up against the real thing," added Billy. "We had a little taste of trench life down in Mexico, but most of the life was in the open. This is a different proposition."

Just then a shell came screaming overhead and the boys involuntarily ducked.

"That seems to prove it," said Tom.

"Bad shooting though," remarked Frank, coolly. "Fritz ought to have the range better by this time."

"There isn't very much of that sort of thing going on just now," remarked Corporal Wilson, who came along just then. "This is what they call a 'quiet sector.' The boys are just put here to be broken in and get used to the sight and sound of the shells. This is a deaf and dumb asylum compared to what you'll get later on."

"Job's comforter," murmured Bart. "To hear the corporal talk you'd think this was a rest cure."

In the hours of liberty allowed them the army boys explored the trenches for a long distance in either direction, and what they saw tended to upset a good many of the notions they had formed.

In a vague way they had figured the trench to be not much else than a gigantic ditch. They found it to be an underground city.

There was a bewildering labyrinth of passages branching off in every direction. There were spacious rooms, fitted up in homely comfort, some with pictures on the walls and rugs upon the floors.

There were shower baths and laundries, rude in construction but efficient in operation. The sleeping quarters of the men consisted chiefly of bunks, rising in tiers, though in some cases, cots were used.

There was an apparently endless series of communicating trenches with the listening posts in advance of the main line. There were telephone wires and electric lights.

"The moles have got nothing on us," remarked Tom, as he noted the vast extent of these subterranean passages.

"It's like the catacombs of Rome," put in Billy. "The only difference is that those contain dead men while we're very much alive."

"Knock wood," counseled Bart. "We wouldn't be very long if the Boches had their way."

Along the side of the main trench, facing the enemy was a narrow platform on which the men stood who were on watch. A series of cunningly contrived loopholes enabled them to look over at the enemy trenches without themselves being seen.

Sand bags were piled on the top of the trench in numbers sufficient to stop the flight of a bullet or even the impact of a shell.

A series of steps led up to the top and the boys reflected as they looked at them that before long their feet would be planted there when the order should be given to go "_over the top_" and charge across the intervening space to meet the enemy.

The silent men standing on watch, gripping their muskets, their eyes peering through the loopholes, seemed like so many statues.

Each had his gas mask ready to clap on at an instant's notice, for when that deadly poison should be wafted over the trench, one second of time might mean all the difference between life and death.

Before the day was over Frank and his comrades had replaced this line of sentinels. They peered curiously across to the German trench from which they were separated by not more than two hundred yards.

There was absolutely nothing to be seen except the line of sand bags that they knew marked the positions of the enemy. Nothing broke the monotonous expanse of shell-torn earth.

They had an uncanny feeling as though they were the only living creatures left in the world.

"It looks as though all the Germans had gone back to Berlin," remarked Frank in an undertone.

"Does it?" said the corporal grimly. "Give me your hat."

He took the hat that Frank extended and lifted it above the parapet on the point of a bayonet.

Zip! came a bullet, missing the helmet by a hair and thudding into one of the sand bags.

"Take it all back," said Frank as he resumed his hat. "They're on the job!"

A week passed by with only two casualties on the American side, for the sector was indeed a quiet one. But certain signs of a projected movement on the part of the enemy had made the American officers uneasy, and one day Corporal Wilson called Frank apart.

"Sheldon," he said, "Captain Baker has ordered me to take a squad of men on the first dark or foggy night for patrol duty in No Man's Land. I want you, Raymond, Bradford and Waldon to go with me."

"Good," said Frank, promptly. "We'll be ready."

He sought out his comrades and eagerly imparted the information. They received it with delight.

"Bully!" cried Bart.

"Best news I've heard since Hector was a pup!" chortled Billy.

"Here's hoping we'll slip one over on Fritz!" chuckled Tom, gleefully.