CHAPTER XI

THE BATTLE

When the vast German army smashed a way through Belgium and commenced that historic rush toward apparently doomed Paris, few there were who were bold enough to believe the French capital could be saved. History would repeat itself, Paris fall to the invading hosts, and, having subdued poor France, the Kaiser’s victorious legions could next turn on Russia and repeat the lesson in preparedness.

Once across the French border, and following out long-since-made plans of campaign, the Germans separated into four tremendous streams of men and guns, all sweeping along prearranged lines and heading for Paris.

One of these was held up before Verdun, which fortress was fated to stand in the way of German success to the end of time, even as Gibraltar towers at the entrance of the Mediterranean. Three other living streams forged ahead, pushing aside all opposition on the part of the French forces, as well as the comparatively small British army that fought them gallantly, though unsuccessfully, at Mons and other places.

As these immense masses of armed troops approached the region of the French capital, the desperation of the defenders increased. But, fortunately for them, there was a man who kept his head through the near-panic and never lost faith. This man was Joffre, the same commander-in-chief who, in after days, continuously baffled the efforts of the most astute German generals to again take the initiative in their hands, after they lost it at the great five-day battle of the Marne.

It was to fall to the lot of General Von Kluck, more than any of his fellows, to break through the line of French defense and start the siege of Paris. Those wonderful mortars that had smashed the steel-domed forts of Liege and Namur in Belgium would most likely have made short work of the outlying defences of the French capital, once they came within long range.

But something happened.

It may never be fully known to the outside world just how the wonderfully well-arranged plans of the Germans met with a hitch, or why the army of Von Kluck, after getting so close to Paris, suddenly veered aside toward the west and commenced to pass by on another tack. Depend upon it, he had good reasons for so doing.

This, then, was the situation on that September afternoon when Thad and his three chums stood on the low hill and watched the invading army coiling over the ridge like a never-ending nest of writhing serpents. The Germans had no other choice save to attack. Unless they could break through the cordon that Joffre had managed to stretch before the city they must continue their great cart-wheel sweep around toward the Marne, and with the French pushing them on, keep going back toward the border again, perhaps in what would be next door to a rout.

On the other hand, could they only thrust the French aside here, a gap would open in the defences through which access could be obtained to the inner lines; and a glorious victory loom up before them.

Gradually the battle spread before the eyes of the little audience of scouts on that isolated pinnacle two miles away. They could see charging masses flung back by the fierceness of the fire from hundreds of machine guns, together with others of larger bore. The ground must be covered with dead and wounded, still the human tide continued to pour over the low ridge like the water passing down the sluice leading to the wheel of a grist mill.

“I never dreamed men could be so reckless of life and death,” Allan shouted in Thad’s ear, for ordinary talking was of course next to impossible in all that horrid din. “They seem bent on breaking through at all costs. I think it must be they mean to tire the French out in this one spot by continuous fighting. Then again perhaps the ammunition may run low, and that will give them the chance they want.”

“Oh! it’s just awful, awful!” declared Bumpus, putting a hand before his eyes as if to shut out the sight; though a short time later found him staring as hard as ever, such was the dreadful fascination of the ever-changing war picture.

The German guns were trying to blast a way through at the same time. Here, there and everywhere the boys could see shells bursting. Often these threw up geysers of earth and stones as they exploded after burying themselves in the ground; and no doubt vast craters began to appear all along the French front, to remind those who saw them at a later date how terribly the modern machinery of war worked.

As time passed it became plainly evident that the French line was holding sturdily. Somehow this apparent fact seemed to give Thad and his chums a feeling as of relief. While they were none of them as yet wholly committed to the cause of the enemies of the Teuton race, at the same time they felt a deep sympathy for the French. Besides, most American boys always feel for the under dog in a fight, and that was what France seemed when pitted against the enormous resources of men and munitions and guns controlled by the Germans.

“I guess it’s going to be a sort of draw for today, after all,” suggested Giraffe, as the sun sank lower, and the battle still continued, with neither side seeming to make any perceptible advance worth mentioning.

“But since it was the Kaiser who attacked,” Allan went on to say positively, “it must be set down as a defeat for the Germans that they failed to carry their point. And depend on it, the French will be nerved for greater things tomorrow. They have proved that they can hold the enemy up; and that will give them courage to attack in turn. Am I right, Thad?”

All of the boys were tired under the strain, but already they could detect signs telling them that the fighting would soon be discontinued, for that day at least. The Germans had been beaten back again and again, no matter how they varied the form of attack. If they gained small advantages in some sectors it was to lose in others. During the night doubtless hurried councils of war would be held, and by the time another dawn broke the battle, if continued at all, would develop upon some new basis.

Gradually the firing dwindled down until as the sun sank out of sight, save for the regular booming of certain guns that had been given a special mission to carry out, the myriad batteries had ceased operations.

Night would soon be falling on that dreadful field. The boys could easily picture some of the scenes that must be taking place there, as Red Cross attendants with stretchers stumbled among the piles of dead and wounded, seeking those most in need of succor, while all around them arose groans and calls for water.

However, about this time their own condition demanded attention. They had been given a small extra portion of food while with the French, enough to stave off hunger to some degree. Thad proposed that they leave their elevated post and seek a spot further down in the valley, where they might stay until day came again.

The necessity of passing a night in the open had little terror for any of those scouts. Many times in the past had they camped out when the conditions were not half as favorable as now. Fortunately the weather was quite warm, and consequently they would not miss the blankets to which they were accustomed when in camp.

Once down on the level, they entered a patch of woods and looked for a place to throw themselves on the ground before the night closed in fully. The moon was just past the full stage, and would rise after a short interval, though clouds had gathered overhead, and a condition of semi-darkness might be looked for.

Finding what promised to afford them a fairly comfortable camping place for the night, they commenced to eat the food that their friends in the French camp had so kindly provided. Sitting there they could occasionally hear some belated motor working its passage up the hill not far distant. Then every little while would come a savage burst of firing from some quarter. Possibly a belated movement of troops on one side or the other suggested a surprise attack, and this caused the outburst from quick-firing guns.

Bumpus had managed to choke down the dry food. He remembered about that spring, and was haunted by thoughts of cold clear water trickling down his parched throat.

“Guess I’ll go along over and get a drink,” he remarked; “anybody else want to keep me company?”

It turned out that all the rest of them had been ahead of him, and were not in need of a fresh supply just then.

“Keep your wits about you, Bumpus,” warned Allan; “it’s getting dark, you see, and of old we know what a great fellow you always were to lose yourself when there was half a chance.”

“Yes, _please_ don’t stray away, Bumpus,” urged Giraffe indolently, as he sprawled there at his ease on the turf; “it’d be rough on the lot of us now if after a hard day’s tramp we had to start out and scour the woods around here to find you.”

Bumpus snorted with disdain.

“Huh! don’t you worry about me, Giraffe,” he remarked cuttingly. “I wasn’t hatched yesterday. I’ve picked up a _little_ intelligence since we were up in Maine, you must remember. And I’m not going to get lost; just put that in your pipe and smoke it, will you?”

With that he stalked off, and started toward the quarter where Thad had told him he would find the spring. Bumpus was never more sure of anything in his whole life than that he could never lose himself under such simple conditions as existed; and yet, strange as it may seem, that was just what he did manage to do.