Uncle Sam's Boys with Pershing's Troops Part 36

"It seems unnecessary, and contemptible in us to risk your life along with our own. Do you understand the lay of the land, Tom?

Can you find our objective without risking the life of our good old friend here?"

"I am sure that I can," Reade nodded. "Like yourself, d.i.c.k, I feel that he should not come further with us. And see here, monsieur.

You have not asked our names, neither have we known yours. Some day, when all around here is French territory again, and the beastly German has gone forever, we shall want to look you up, or write you. I am Lieutenant Tom Reade, of the American aviation service, and my friend is Captain Richard Prescott, of the American Infantry."

"And I am Francois Prim. My neighbors call me Papa Prim."

"Show us the way we are to go, Monsieur Prim," d.i.c.k urged.

"It is simple," replied Papa Prim. "You see, without fail, the little building to which I am pointing, over by the roadside?"

"Yes."

"That was our school-house. Now it is an office for the Prussians.

They have a battalion or more of infantry camped in the field across from the building. They are a guard to keep us afraid.

Sometimes one will see three or four regiments camped further along on that field, either regiments going to the front or coming back for rest. Now, from that building you turn and go in that direction"---Papa Prim made a motion with his crooked forefinger---"and so you come to four sheds that are easily missed in the night, for they are camouflaged so as not to attract the eye of French flyers in the day time. From here it will be the first shed that you come to that is more likely to be open at night.

In each shed are two airplanes. They are kept here for the purpose of sending up at night when French planes pa.s.s over to bomb railways or perhaps to bomb German towns. When our own French airmen come then these airplanes shoot up into the sky and give battle. But the Huns have lost twelve planes here in half that number of months,"

Papa Prim added proudly, "and only lately have enough new ones arrived from Germany to make up the eight required for this station."

"Where do the airmen sleep?" d.i.c.k interjected.

"In the camp with the troops; in the hangars there are no sleeping places."

"And the hangars are at some distance from the troop camp?" Tom asked.

"The troop camp begins over that way," Papa Prim continued, pointing, "for, as you will understand, there must be ground on which the airplanes may run before they rise. So there is some distance.

I came near forgetting to tell you that, behind the hangars, are four tents in which the hangar guard sleeps."

"And how many sentries at a time walk post around the hangars?"

d.i.c.k inquired.

"I do not know," confessed Papa Prim, "but I do not believe there are more than three or four sentries on duty at a time. Of course, there are other sentries on post at the camp."

"And airs.h.i.+ps leaving fly directly over the camp?" Tom wanted to know.

"You have said truly," replied Papa Prim. "And are there anti-aircraft guns in the camp?" Tom asked.

"In the troop camp, so I have heard, but I have not seen them,"

answered Papa Prim.

Removing his steel helmet and taking it in his left hand, d.i.c.k bent over, seizing Papa Prim's hand.

"Good-bye for a little while, monsieur," he said earnestly. "We go away with hearts full of grat.i.tude to your own fine, loyal heart. May you prosper and be happy, with your children safely returned from Germany. May all good things in life be with you.

Our thanks will always be with you, and our thoughts often of you, monsieur."

Tom Reade took leave of Papa Prim in equally hearty and grateful words.

The two Americans watched the slim, bent old figure plodding homeward.

After looking the ground over critically, they stole forward on their way.

"I didn't want him to see what disagreeable business we may have on our hands within a few minutes," d.i.c.k whispered. "But see here, Tom, I've just remembered that you didn't pay Papa Prim for all his trouble, as you had planned."

"Didn't I?" Reade chuckled. "I did it without any dispute from him, either. d.i.c.k, I wrapped five twenty-dollar American gold pieces in cloth, so they wouldn't jingle, and stuffed the whole tightly into a small canvas bag. While you were talking I slipped it into one of his blouse pockets. Papa Prim will find the money there, and he'll know who put it there, but he won't be able to return it."

"American gold?" d.i.c.k echoed. "If the Germans ever know of his having American gold they'll think it reason enough for hanging him."

"No, they won't," Tom retorted, "though they would undoubtedly think it reason enough for taking the money away from him. But I've seen plenty of American gold in France, and plenty of English gold, too. Anywhere in the world gold is gold, and having American gold isn't proof, during this war, that the possessor got it from an American. I'll wager that there is plenty of American gold locked up even in Germany. But the Germans will never find Papa's gold. Papa Prim will hide it until the day comes when, like the good Frenchman that he is, he can turn that gold into a French war bond."

Nearing the former school-house that had been pointed out to them, the two chums took their bearings afresh. Crossing the road one at a time, with utmost stealth, they reached the other side without having been challenged.

A little further on they espied a German sentry, pacing post.

Waiting until the fellow had gone to the furthest limit of his post, the chums, flat on their stomachs, crawled forward until, on looking backward, they judged it safe to rise and move on crouchingly.

Then they came in sight of the aviation station.

"Better crawl all the way now," d.i.c.k whispered. "We have reached the point where any attempt at speed will be sure to place a few bullets in our bodies."

Tom nodded, without speaking. It was trampled, withered gra.s.s through which they now crawled. It offered fair concealment, but there was danger of making a noise that might betray them to a keen-eared sentry.

At last, near the first hangar, they reached a spot where two trees stood close together. Crawling to this shelter, they still remained lying down, though the tree trunks gave them greater safety against being seen.

In front of the hangars paced a sentry; at the rear another soldier walked post. At some distance from this latter sentry stood four tents, in which, Papa Prim had declared, slept the reliefs of the guard.

"I see how we could get the sentry at the rear," d.i.c.k whispered, after a few minutes' silent survey. "But it's at the front that we want to get in, and I don't see any way of creeping up on the front sentry without the rear sentry seeing us and firing. That would give the alarm."

"Then we've got to 'get' the rear sentry first?" Tom asked, his lips at his chum's ear.

"That's it."

"Nasty business, and double chance of losing the game."

"It's the only way, Tom, unless your head is working better than mine."

For some minutes Tom Reade studied.

"I guess it will have to be the rear sentry first," he conceded.

At that moment a small door at the rear of the hangar opened.

The two friends heard the noise, and judged by sound more than sight.

"Sentry!" said the man who had stepped outside, in a low voice.

"Herr Lieutenant!" responded the man. "I am not locking the door, sentry. I shall be back before long."

"Very good, Herr Lieutenant." Pa.s.sing to the front of the hangar this German aviation lieutenant waited until the sentry there had reached him, then delivered the same information, after which the aviation officer strode off briskly toward the troop camp that could be only vaguely seen in the distance.

"It sounds as if he intended to make a flight," whispered d.i.c.k uneasily.

"That wouldn't be so bad," Reade replied. "It will be worse if his machine is out of order and he is coming back to fuss over it."