CHAPTER XVIII
"IT'S A GREAT LIFE"
Toward noon a German battery woke up and amused itself by sendingshrapnel against the very communication trench which was being usedprincipally to carry the wounded back to the first-aid dugout in whichBob had been briefly quartered. As a result, two stretcher men, as wellas several wounded Sammies, went West. Presently an American batterygot the range of the enemy battery and silenced it.
All day sharpshooters on both sides were busy picking off each other'smen as they labored at re-establishing their front-line defenses. Asthe Sammies were by far the better marksmen, they did considerablymore damage. The Boche infantrymen are anything but good rifle shots.It is generally conceded that the Americans have the best gunners andsharpshooters in the world.
American machine guns also did good work through the day. So well didtheir gunners succeed in harassing the Boches that when night at lastfell, they made little effort to go out onto No Man's Land to take intheir dead and wounded. Their losses had been too heavy to risk furthercasualties. The constant sending up of American star shells warned themthat the Sammies were keeping a sharp look-out, ready to mow them downat the first opportunity.
The night passed without any attempt by the Huns to renew the conflict.Sammies detailed to listening post duty came back with reports thatFritz was hard at work repairing his badly demolished fire trench.They also reported that many wounded Germans still lay neglectedand suffering in No Man's Land. The all-glorious Fatherland was notconcerning itself over these helpless, bleeding husks.
For four more days the Khaki Boys continued on duty in the front-linetrench. During that time no more heavy bombardments were directedagainst them by the Boches. Plenty of shrapnel shells continued to comeover. Most of them directed against the communication trenches, oragainst points behind the American lines. A favorite sport of Fritz isthe shelling of ambulances, carrying wounded men to hospital.
Those days of blessed peace saw the fire trench completely restored andeverything running along again as smoothly as matters ever run in sucha danger spot. It was believed that the Germans were getting ready foranother big raid. Scouting aircraft reported the daily arrival of freshtroops and large quantities of ammunition and supplies to the Germanlines.
During this lull in hostilities, Bob, Ignace, Jimmy and Roger wererarely idle long. As non-coms they always found plenty to do. Thevacancies in their squads had been filled by men who had lost squadleaders and squad comrades in the recent bombardment.
All four were exceedingly gloomy over the loss of Schnitzel. Theuncertainty of his fate weighed heavily upon them. Jimmy continued tomaintain his belief that Schnitz was not dead. He had a fixed idea thathis bunkie was a prisoner. This in itself was signally depressing. Thefour Brothers would far rather have believed Schnitzel to be dead.
On the evening of the eighth day came the news that the presentcontingent of Khaki Boys occupying the front-line trench were to berelieved by a seasoned American regiment under the command of a veteranFrench general. The retiring troops were to start at eleven o'clockthat night for rest billets in a village well behind the lines. Herethey would remain for at least three weeks before returning to thetrenches.
Just before eleven o'clock the first relief detachment creptstealthily into the fire trench. They had been hiding all day in a pinewoods just out of range of the German guns. Another detachment wasconcealed in the ruined village through which the Khaki Boys had passedon the way to the trenches. This detachment would not arrive at thefront until after midnight.
The departing Sammies were ordered to make an absolutely noiselessretreat to rest billets. It was vitally important that the enemy shouldnot learn of the arrival of fresh troops to replace the men who hadcompleted their first trench detail.
Passing with his comrades through a communication trench on theopposite from the one used on the night of entering the trenches, itseemed to Jimmy Blaise a very long time since then. It was more likeeight years than eight days.
What a lot a fellow could stand in eight days and still live, was hissomber reflection as he stole along, six paces behind the man in frontof him. He had been under heavy fire twice. He had looked upon death inits bloodiest form. He had slept and eaten with the shattered, lifelessbodies of his comrades lying about him. He had waded through blood, soto speak. He had been across No Man's Land and back. Men had died inhis arms. He had endured agonies of suspense as he searched among theslain for his bunkies. Worst of all, he had lost a devoted friend andBrother.
"It's a great life if you don't weaken." Jimmy smiled grimly to himselfas this expression, so prevalent among the Sammies, popped into hismind. Back in Camp Sterling he, too, had been very prone to use it. Hewas still of the opinion that, in spite of blood, mud, death, wounds,noise, cooties and the hundred and one other vicissitudes of war, it_was_ "a great life."
He hoped that he would be spared to do trench duty over and over again.That was the only way a fellow could feel about it, he thought. He wasglad that he hated the Boches so hard. Back in Camp Sterling he hadoften wondered how it would feel to be actually engaged in killing men.Now he hoped that, for the sake of Franz Schnitzel, every bullet he hadsent speeding across No Man's Land had put a Hun out of business forgood and all.