CHAPTER XXV
THE MARINES MOVE FORWARD
"Chester," said Hal, "that is the finest looking body of men I have everseen."
Hal eyed the long lines of marines with pride and a critical eye.
"Right you are, Hal," Chester agreed. "I'll bet they make the Germanssit up and take notice." He turned to Bowers. "You are to becongratulated on being a part of such an outfit, sergeant," he added.
"Thank you, sir," said Bowers.
"And we're in luck to have been detailed here at this time," said Hal.
"You're right again," declared Chester.
It was three days after Hal and Chester had returned from their missionfor General Pershing. Soon after the American commander had communicatedto Marshal Foch the results of the lads' work, he had ordered them southto General Bundy's two divisions of marines, which for several days hadbeen encamped some distance from the front. The lads had delivereddispatches from the American commander-in-chief to General Bundy and hadbeen detailed to the Sixth Regiment. There, much to their surprise, theyencountered their old friends, Lieutenants Smith and Jenkins, andBowers, who had been promoted to a top sergeancy.
All were delighted with the reunion and the marines expressed theirsatisfaction when they learned Hal and Chester had been promoted.
"It's probably a bit irregular to have you with us, sir," SergeantBowers said to Hal, "but we're glad you're here."
"I'll tell you something, sergeant," said Hal, with a knowing wink. "Itwill be only a matter of hours now until we move to the front."
"Is that so, sir?" asked Bowers. "Well, it can't be too soon for me.I've had one crack at these Huns, but up to date the marines haven'tbeen in sufficient strength to show what we can do. But," and his eyesswept the large encampment, "there are enough of us here to run Fritz todeath if they give us a chance."
"Practically eighteen thousand men," Chester agreed.
"Let's hope we get another crack at them soon, sir," said Bowers.
The chance was to come sooner than even Hal or Chester had believedpossible.
It was on the evening of June 15 that the marines suddenly receivedorders to march. This was the day following the arrival of Hal andChester at General Bundy's headquarters.
The lads had been much impressed with General Bundy upon sight; and hewas not to lose caste in their eyes; for, as it developed, here was theman who was to be mainly responsible for the launching of the greatAllied offensive.
General Omar Bundy was tall and spare and was chiefly distinguishable bya rather prominent mustache. He was a capable officer and a man prone toprompt decision, as he was to prove.
Hard upon the orders to move forward, the marines vaulted into camions,or French motor trucks. These vehicles found great favor in their eyes.The springs are so staunch and stiff, the hard seats are so dependable,and their capacity is so blindly ignored when they are loaded that thesoldiers had many a laugh.
Although they had had no supper, there was quite a lot of singing as thetroops embarked.
All night long the trucks bumped over the traffic-torn roads. When dawnpeeped above the purple horizon they pulled into a little French villageand the men jumped from the tracks. They were hungry and thirsty.
Up to this time the men had not thought much about their destination,but as the roar of the guns at the front became louder and louder theybegan to realize that there was serious work ahead. In spite of theirgrowing thirst and the emptiness in their stomachs, however, there wasnot a murmur of protest in the ranks.
A division cannot be moved over one road and expect to reach itsdestination in proper formation--and there were two divisions movinghere. All the roads leading to the destination must be utilized, andeven then some parts of the division will be dumped many kilometers fromtheir destination.
So the troops hiked and hiked till the roads beneath them rose in dustyprotest at the ceaseless tramp, tramp.
In the afternoon the regiment to which Hal and Chester were attachedstruck through a deep wood. The trees were magnificent. All theunderbrush had been cleared out. It was replaced by shells. Acres onacres were piled high with shells of every calibre. Most of them weremade in America, and the troops cheered as they recognized the trademarks.
Around the edges of this stupendous mountain of death there was afeverish activity, a subdued excitement that boded ill. American andFrench ammunition trains came tearing, galloping, whirling indust-clouds ahead of smoking exhausts--into that trembling woods. Withseeming recklessness shells were tossed into the wagons and camions,which departed with fresh haste.
A flood of giant trucks streamed into the woods, dumped their loads ofammunition and whirled away for more. The marines tightened their beltsand decided to stick around. There was something doing!
Finally the marines emerged onto the main road. And what a road! It wasa nightmare, a thousand bedlams. There was noise, noise and more noise.It was a Niagara of sound that deafened the men.
The shouting of the workers, the crunch and grind of wheels, the groanof gears, the cracking of whips, the clang of metal, the pounding ofcountless horses' hoofs, the chugging of streams of motors and thescreams of their many-throated sirens; empty ammunition trains going andloaded ones coming, light artillery and heavy artillery, tanks inplatoons, trucks in companies, field kitchens, water wagons, supplytrains, ration carts, all fought for space and air in order to maketheir own particular noise vibrate. Every square foot of that road,broad and gummy-surfaced, supported something all the time, while theditches on either side were used by endless lines of plodding Americans,faint from hunger and thirst, almost exhausted from want of sleep, butall thrilled by the hunger for Huns that would only be satisfied byvictory and peace.
The marines were about to strike the enemy and they knew it. MarshalFoch was behind them.
So they plodded on and on without complaint. The road with its babel ofstreaming traffic told them that something was about to happen. And eachman secretly congratulated himself on being considered good enough tohave a part in the show.
Toward the evening it was pure agony for most of the men to pass aFrench kitchen, located in the woods that flanked both sides of thewoods. The men took to robbing the water wagons as they passed. Frenchdrivers, angered, slashed at them with their whips, but the marinesdidn't mind.
Looking back along the road, Sergeant Bowers saw a young marine with aloaf of French bread. The sergeant stepped out of line and waited forhim. In the presence of that loaf of bread, the sergeant actuallytrembled.
"Where'd you get it?" demanded the sergeant of the young marine.
"Frenchman, for the makin's,'" returned the youngster.
Instantly the sergeant turned his eyes to the side of the road, wherefor the first time he noted the presence, at irregular intervals, ofFrench soldiers, most of them slightly wounded, some of whom carriedloaves of bread. Sergeant Bowers approached one and exposed a sack halffull of tobacco.
"For one loaf," he said to a Frenchman near him.
Without haggling, the man passed the loaf of bread to the sergeant andthe latter gave him his tobacco.
"Pretty high," said the sergeant to himself, "but I've just naturallygot to have something to eat."
Congestion soon halted the line as the Americans advanced. Lured on bySergeant Bowers' action, hundreds of privates were able to makeexchanges with French soldiers, and it took sharp orders from theofficers to make them move on again.
Every now and then the marines came to a place where a shell hadexploded in the road recently. At one place they came upon what had beenfive horses, and a part of another, and some blue helmets. These weredragged aside hastily.
Around 5 o'clock, Hal, who had gone to headquarters in a commandeeredautomobile, rejoined his regiment, which soon stopped for a rest.Sergeant Bowers dropped down in the ditch and eased his pack straps fromthe spots that ached. Hal went over to him.
"Sergeant," said the lad, "have the men g
ot emergency rations?"
"No, sir," said Bowers.
"What?" exclaimed Hal. "Why haven't they? Major Drew told me they had."
"Well, they haven't, sir," repeated Bowers dryly. "I can vouch for that.I've had to pull up my belt a couple of notches."
"Now, that's pretty tough," declared Hal. "But I am afraid it can't behelped now, sergeant."
"Right you are, sir. I don't hear any kicking."
Hal smiled in spite of himself.
After a brief rest, the marines resumed their journey. They struck outalong a quieter road. They hiked and hiked till their shoes quitsqueaking. The road gradually became deserted. Soon the marching marineswere the only men in sight.
The men zig-zagged from side to side, ducking trees cut off by bigshells. Suddenly the vanguard was confronted by a gesticulatingFrenchman, who waved his hands for them to stop. Hal halted his companyand rode forward.
"What's the matter?" he demanded in French.
The Frenchman pointed dramatically along the road.
"Boche!"
"What?" queried Hal. "_Com bien kilometers?_" (How many kilometers?)
"_Non. Non!_" returned the Frenchman. "Kilometer!"
Hal thanked the Frenchman and discreetly ordered his men into a woods.The withdrawal was assisted by five German shells that burst on bothsides of the road.
"Just in time, sir," said Bowers.
"Right," replied Hal, "thanks to the Frenchman."