CHAPTER XII

NEWS FROM THE AIR

Now don't get all worked up with hope," went on Jimmy, as his chums gathered about him. "While I have news from poor old Schnitz, it isn't exactly good news."

"Is it bad?" demanded Bob.

"Is he deaded alretty yet?" came from Iggy.

"No. And I'm glad I can say that much," replied Jimmy. "He isn't dead, but he's in a German prison. You know we've sort of hoped that ever since he was missing. Rather have him there than dead or badly wounded, you know."

"Who told you he was in a prison camp?" asked Roger.

"One of the wounded boys in the hospital. You know I went to see Boswick, who used to be our top sergeant. Well, next to him was a fellow who was hurt on the head and who's been out of his mind since then. Day before yesterday he got his senses back again, and to-day he was quite a lot improved. He heard me telling Boswick that Franz was missing, and this fellow, whose name is Waydell, told me about Franz.

"It seems he was not very far away from old Schnitz when the thing happened. He saw Schnitz take some German prisoners from a machine gun nest and start to march them to the rear. Then this fellow saw our friend, who must have been tickled to death with his feat--He saw Schnitz run into a bunch of Huns. They took Schnitz's prisoners away from him, though he did some damage before they had things their own way. And then they just naturally copped Schnitz and hustled him off."

"Well, why in the world didn't this Waydell help Schnitz out?" demanded Bob.

"He had the wound that put him out of business and later sent him to dreamland for a long time. But I'm glad he came to. It gives us definite information about Franz, and that's what we want."

"We want him back, too!" exclaimed Roger.

"Oh, of course," agreed Jimmy. "But it's something to know where he is."

"We don't--that is, we don't know exactly," remarked Bob.

"No, only that he's in some German camp. But there's always a chance that he may get out," went on Jimmy. "We'll hope for that."

Iggy gave a heavy sigh.

"What's the matter?" asked Roger.

"I so sorry am for Franz," was the answer. "Besser as I was a prisoner myself than him."

"Why?" Jimmy queried.

"'Cause he iss of a Germans like. Hims name is Germans, and once anudder time, when he wass a prison camp in good treatment he got not."

"I should say he didn't!" declared Roger.

"Well, den I am 'fraid like he will of the same treatment gets now," proceeded Iggy. "Maybe he will not of stand it."

There was silence for a moment, and then Jimmy said softly:

"Well, we can only hope for the best."

The four Khaki Boys discussed over again the news Jimmy had brought from the hospital. Gloomy as it was in itself, it was more cheering than no news at all, and for many days they had had none to indicate what might have been the fate of their missing chum.

"We may be able to find out what prison camp he's in," suggested Roger.

"What good would that do?" questioned Bob.

"Well, we might raid it and set him free, as well as any other poor boys of ours and the Allies that are held there."

"Fat chance!" murmured Jimmy.

"It could be done with aeroplanes, if we could get enough," declared Roger. "The next time I see the Twinkle Twins I'm going to ask them to keep a lookout for Franz at any of the German prison camps over which they fly."

"Your intentions are good, but it's a hopeless case that way," sighed Jimmy, and, after thinking it over, Roger said he thought he would have to agree to this. But still he kept on hoping, as did his chums, that some means would be found to rescue Franz.

"If he can stand the life long enough, we'll fight our way through Germany and raze every one of their horrible prison camps!" exclaimed Bob hotly.

"May that day come soon," murmured Roger.

And slowly, but surely, that day was coming. Hour by hour, almost, the great army of Americans was growing in France. Inch by inch the detested Huns were being pushed back, fighting stubbornly at every step. Skirmishes and small battles were frequent, and trench raids took place on both sides nearly every night.

It was one nasty, rainy night about a week after Jimmy had received the news that Franz was a prisoner that, as the four Khaki Boys were on duty in a firing trench, word was passed along to be more than usually on the alert.

"Why? Are we going to attack?" asked Bob of the platoon officer.

"We may, if things turn out a certain way," was the answer. "We have made certain plans which will be disclosed in due time. Just be on the alert."

And, taking their turns at being "observation sentinels," Jimmy and his chums strained their eyes as they looked across dark and rainy No Man's Land for the first sign of any activity on the part of the Germans.

There was a tense feeling in the air, as though something portended, and this feeling had a basis in fact, for shortly before dawn the German batteries suddenly opened fire on the line of trenches held by Jimmy, his chums, and others of the 509th.

"Are we going over the top?" cried Bob, as, by the distant flashes of fire from the German guns, he saw their platoon officer. It was safe to talk, or even shout, now, for there was no danger of giving an alarm to the Huns. "Are we going over the top?"

"Not in the face of that fire, at all events," was the grim answer. "The Boches have started the ball in earnest."

Every second the blasts from the German guns increased in intensity, and their effect was felt in the trench that sheltered the Khaki Boys.

"What's the matter with our artillery?" cried Jimmy. "Why don't they give Fritz some of his own medicine?"

And, as if in answer, a moment later came a thunderous response from the American lines.

"There they go!" cried Roger. "Now things will even up."

It was an awful artillery duel, and there were heavy casualties on both sides. While the artillery was firing from either side of No Man's Land there was little the Sammies could do save to shelter themselves as best they could behind the parados. These were sand bags, built up at intervals behind the parapet. They afforded as good protection against high explosive shell fire and shrapnel as could be obtained in trench warfare. And as they were practically impenetrable by machine gun bullets, if a soldier could get behind the heavy bags he was comparatively safe.

But many of them were burst apart or blown away by the missiles from the German guns, and it became necessary, if the boys in the trench were to have protection, to replace the bags.

Accordingly orders were given to do this, and details were told off, some to fill bags and others to put them in place. Roger and Bob were engaged in this last when Bob suddenly gave a cry and caught his left hand in his right.

"Hit?" cried Roger, for there was light enough, caused by the flashes from many guns, for him to see Bob start.

"Just a scratch," was the answer.

It was more than a scratch--being a rather deep flesh wound across the back of Bob's hand. But with the aid of Roger he quickly bound it up in a bandage, after applying an antiseptic, and then kept on with the vital work of making the trench safer.

Many were wounded and many killed on both sides by that night firing, and after an hour of bombardment on both sides there had come no order for the Sammies to go over the top.

"Don't we get the word?" asked Jimmy of Bob, as they had a moment's respite from building up the parados.

"It is queer," was the answer. "But if we have done anything like the damage to the Hun trenches that they have done to ours, it must be a bad place over there."

"I think we've paid 'em back with interest," declared Jimmy. "Our gun fire was twice as heavy as theirs."

And so it proved, for when dawn broke, gray and misty, it was seen that the line of German sand bags had been demolished for a long distance up and down the trench. And in the trench could be seen the German soldiers working frantically to repair the havoc. It was then that the Sammies could take revenge with rifle fire, and they did, in goodly measure.

But no word came to go over the top, and a little while after day broke the firing died down on both sides. Soon it was comparatively quiet, but there were sad scenes to follow.

The weather improved toward noon, and the sun came out to partially dry the muddy trenches and the rain-soaked garments of the soldiers. Bob's wound was dressed by a surgeon, and he was told to lay off duty for a day. Jimmy, too, had received a slight wound, and he had the same orders as had Bob. So the two of them went to the rear for a little rest.

It was while taking such ease as they could that they saw an aeroplane land near the camp to which they had come to get a little respite from the fighting, and when they saw two figures leap from the machine, Bob and Jimmy exclaimed:

"The Twinkle Twins!"

It was John and Gerald Twinkleton.

"Well, where'd you blow in from?" asked Jimmy.

"Had to come down to get some gas, or petrol, as they call it over here," explained John. "Been out doing scout work. Say, I hear you had a hot time last night."

"Sort of," admitted Bob. "Fritz tried to put one over on us."

"Yes, we heard about it," went on Gerald. "And it came near being a bigger thing than you fellows suspect. Did you hear about the smoke signals?"

"Smoke signals?" cried Jimmy. "Say, do you mean that there has been some more of that traitorous work going on?"

"It looks so," said John. "When we were out flying around yesterday we passed over a little valley. We were low enough down to see four men around a queer kind of machine. At first we thought it was a hidden mortar battery, but soon we saw some green and yellow puffs of smoke go up from it. We reported the matter to headquarters, and there was an investigation right off, but the four men had disappeared with their smoke apparatus when a squad of our lads got to the valley."

"Do you say there were four men around that smoke signaling apparatus?" asked Jimmy.

"Yes," answered Gerald.

"Could you tell who they were?"

"Well, no, not exactly. Except that two of them seemed to be men in American uniforms, and the other two were civilians."

"By Archibald Montmorency! as our cook would say," cried Jimmy, "I'll bet they're the same fellows we saw in the dugout. They are the traitors! This is great news you bring from the air, boys!" he said to the Twinkle Twins.

Wonderingly the four gazed at one another.