CHAPTER XV
WITHIN THE SOUND OF GUNS
"Here at last!" cried Frank in wild jubilation, as the transport wasmade fast to the wharf. "Pinch me, fellows, to make sure I'm notdreaming."
"It's real, sure enough!" exulted Bart.
"Now we'll see action!" exclaimed Billy.
"And get a chance at Fritz and Heinie!" added Tom. "I'm aching to geta hack at them."
Frank did not answer to this. Now they had arrived in France his mindhad drifted back to his mother and what she had said about the propertyshe had inherited. Would they ever be able to claim his grandfather'sestate?
If the army boys could have had their way, they would have leapedforthwith from the deck to the dock. They were wild to feel the soilof the gallant country beneath their feet. But discipline had to beobserved and several hours elapsed before the troops were ready toleave the ship.
Then at last they poured over the gangplank, line after line, waveafter wave, in what seemed to the delighted multitude of watchers analmost endless procession.
They formed in line and after a formal exchange of greetings betweentheir commanders and the city authorities, the troops swung into thestreets with the bands playing alternately, the "Star Spangled Banner"and the "Marseillaise."
Such cheers as greeted them, such tears, such pelting of flowers, suchwaving of flags as the stalwart young Americans marched through streetsthat were packed to the curb with joyous, shouting, frenzied natives!
It was a royal greeting that not one of the boys could ever forget.
They reached the great barracks that had been assigned to them by theFrench Government for a temporary halting place before they should goto a place in the interior right behind the fighting lines.
There was plenty of room, for the barracks were empty now, every son ofFrance of fighting age that could be spared, being at the front.
"They sure seemed glad to see us," grinned Frank, as, after the march,the regiment broke ranks and the men went to their quarters.
"I don't wonder," replied Bart. "I suppose America felt the same way ahundred years ago when Lafayette and his comrades went over there."
"Gee, it seems strange to speak of America as being over there," saidTom, a little soberly.
"Not getting homesick, are you, Tom?" questioned Billy, with a smile.
"I have an idea I will," Tom answered with a grin, "when I have time tothink about it. But it would make me sicker still," he added stoutly,"to go back before we'd licked the Huns."
"Right-o!" cried Billy. "When I go back I want to take a lot of Germanhelmets along to give to some girls I know."
"Some girls," chaffed Bart. "You talk like a Mormon, Billy."
The next few days were busy and delightful ones for the boys. Thetownspeople opened their hearts and homes to them, and they werefeasted and entertained to their heart's content. Everything was sonew and strange to them that they were constantly stumbling uponsurprises.
The language, to be sure, offered some obstacles. The boys had beentaught some of the most necessary French phrases while in theirtraining camp, and these along with some language primers they carried,sufficed for their more simple needs. But their vocabulary was limitedand their accent was a fearful and wonderful thing, though their hostswere too polite to laugh at them.
Frank had some advantage over the others because his mother, being aFrench woman, had taught him her native tongue, and it was a greatcomfort to the rest of the Camport boys to have Frank along with themas interpreter when they themselves were stumped--which, it must beconfessed, was often!
Tom especially, who had no gift for languages was usually in hot water.His struggles with the language were frantic, not to say pathetic.
"You're game, old scout," chaffed Billy, after Tom had wrestled in vainwith the pronunciation of the French word for soup. "But why inthunder did you make that waiter crazy by asking for bullion? Any onewould think you were trying to cop off the United States mint."
"Well, what should I say?" Tom defended himself stoutly, as he thumbedover his phrase book. "There it is, plain as day," he added,triumphantly--"b-o-u-i-l-l-o-n. If that isn't bullion, what is it?"
"You're all wrong, you're all wrong," said Bart condescendingly. "It's_bwe-yone_, just like that."
Tom tried it once or twice desperately and then gave it up.
"I'd have to have a cold in my head to talk that way," he protested,pocketing the book in disgust. "I'm not going to try any more. Themore I try the worse I get. The next time, I'm going to ask for soup,plain, old fashioned American soup. S-o-u-p. Get that? Then thewaiter can do the guessing!"
"Yes, and then he'll serve you spaghetti," laughed Frank.
"So much the better," grinned Tom. "Let him go through the wholeshooting match. Sooner or later he'll come to soup and when he doesI'll be there."
"And you intend to eat right through the menu?" queried Billyadmiringly.
"The which?" asked Tom. "Oh, you mean the bill of fare. Sure thing.I don't care whether it's soup to nuts or nuts to soup, I'll catch itcoming and going."
"And you're the fellow they wouldn't let enlist on account of histeeth," moaned Billy, with a doleful shake of his head.
"They didn't know me," grinned Tom.
The army boys spent nearly a week in the barracks to get rid of their"sea legs," and then the order came to go to the new camp, right behindthe lines that had been assigned to them.
It was too far for a hike and the railroads were taxed to theircapacity in taking supplies to the forces at the front. But theproblem was solved by a multitude of gigantic motor trucks, lorries, inwhich two score of men could find accommodation.
They were high-powered machines capable of tremendous speed and theyrushed over the fine French highways like so many express trains.
"This is the thing that saved Paris," remarked Frank. "If Gallienihadn't packed all his troops and rushed them up as reinforcements,France would have lost the battle of the Marne."
"They're great goers all right," commented Bart. "We're sure breakingthe speed laws. But I don't see any traffic cops stopping us."
"They'd only cheer us on," grinned Tom. "We can't get to the battlelines too quick to suit the French."
Up hill and down dale they raced, through thriving cities, and quaintvillages, past peasant cottages and princely chateaux, lying beautifuland serene in the bright sunshine.
They were in the garden spot of France, a place that had yet beenspared the horror and devastation of war, and the only thing thatseemed unnatural was the striking absence of young men.
Women everywhere were doing the work, in the fields, in the stores, atthe railroad stations, on the streets and country roads. Scarcely anymales were seen except old men and boys.
There was no need to ask where the young men were. At Verdun, on theSomme, on the Aisne; everywhere on that long line of trenches thatstretched from the Vosges to the sea, they were fighting like heroes tokeep the Hun at bay.
And on the heart of each were written those immortal words spoken atVerdun: "_They shall not pass!_"
Hour after hour went by. Suddenly Frank asked:
"What was that, fellows? Did you hear it?"
"Sounded to me like thunder," said Bart.
"With a sky like this?" replied Frank. "Never. Listen!"
Borne on the wind came a long, booming sound, growing longer and louderas they sped toward it, falling fitfully at times, only to swell into amightier rumble like the roar of waves dashing against the coast.
They looked at each other with comprehension dawning in their eyes.
"It's thunder all right, Bart," said Frank, quietly. "It's the thunderof the guns! We are getting near the fighting front at last!"