Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line Part 16

"And then I forgot to come back," finished Bob.

"We told him he'd better report, Sir," said one of the escorting party. "He was with our bunch all right, and when he told us he'd been out with the night raiders and had slipped off before reporting back, we told him he'd better report. So we showed him the way, as the trenches are sort of mixed up around here."

"Very well," said the lieutenant, trying not to smile. "You may go back to your posts. Everything is explained."

And so Bob was restored to his company again, and in view of the successful raid no reprimand was given him. The capture of the German prisoners proved important, as information was obtained that proved of the greatest value afterward.

Ned's wound turned out to be only a flesh one, but it was painful enough, and kept him in the hospital a week. He would have fretted over thus being kept away while Bob and Jerry were fighting, but, as a matter of fact, his two chums received a rest period at this time, and so were out of the trenches the same time that Ned was.

But the war was far from won, and every man possible was needed on the firing line, so that, in due season, the three chums found themselves back again. And under no very pleasant circ.u.mstances.

For it rained and rained, and then rained some more, though Jerry insisted that where they got the water from was a mystery.

It was a most desolate period, when the trenches were knee-deep in mud and when casualties mounted by reason of unusual activity on the part of the Huns. But the three friends and their comrades stuck grimly to the work. There were local attacks, and counter-attacks, and night raids, in all of which Ned, Bob and Jerry did their share.

Then, one day, they were given a surprise. Some new recruits were brought up to the front-line trenches, to be initiated, and among them was Noddy Nixon.

"I've come to show you fellows how to get a Hun!" he boasted in his usual style. "Give me a chance, and I'll show you how to fight, though I'd rather be in an aeroplane."

"Truth to tell, I guess he'd rather be back home, but he doesn't dare go," declared Jerry.

Not very much to their delight, the Motor Boys learned that Noddy was to be quartered near them, and he was on duty in the trenches in the post adjoining theirs.

There came a period of fierce attacks on the part of the Huns, when they laid down such an artillery barrage that for three days it was impossible for any relief to come to the men in the trenches, and they had to live on what food they had when the firing began. They did not actually starve, but there was not any too much to eat, and there was a lack of hot things, which were much needed as it rained almost constantly.

By hard work Ned, Bob and Jerry had managed to get together some wood which they kept dry in a niche in the trench, lined with pieces of tin. The wood they used to make a little fire to warm their coffee.

Coming in from several hours of duty one rainy evening, the three chums were antic.i.p.ating having something hot to drink made over their little fire of cached wood.

But when Bob, who by virtue of his appet.i.te considered himself the cook, went to get the fuel, it was not there.

"Boys, the wood is gone!" he cried.

"Who took it?" demanded Jerry.

Ned inspected the place. He picked up a piece of damp paper, and in the light of his flash torch read the scrawled writing which said:

"Borrowed your wood. Give it back to you some day.

"NODDY NIXON."

For a moment there was silence, and then Jerry burst out with:

"Well, if that isn't just like him--the dirty sneak!"

CHAPTER XIV

A DESPERATE CHANCE

Disappointment rendered the three chums incapable of action for the moment. They just stood and looked at the place where their little store of wood had been hidden. Now it was gone, and with it the hope of a hot supper from that particular source.

"What are we going to do?" asked Bob blankly.

"We ought to go down to the post where that sneak is and get the wood back," declared Ned. "And tell his chums what sort of fellow they have bunking with 'em!"

"No, don't do that," advised Jerry, who had cooled down after his first pa.s.sionate outburst. "That will make trouble. Noddy would only laugh at us, and some of the others might. It isn't the first time wood has been taken."

"I was just hungry for something hot," sighed Bob, as he thought of the cold rations.

"So was I," added Ned. "Isn't there anything we can do?" he went on.

Jerry looked about. Here and there about the dugout their comrades were eating as best they could, no one, it appeared, having anything hot. It was at a critical period during the fighting, and the commissary and transportation departments were suffering from a temporary breakdown. Still the men had enough to eat, such as it was.

"Well, we might as well have grub now--even if it is cold," said Jerry, after considering matters. "No telling when we'll have to stand off a Hun raid or go into one ourselves, and then we won't have time to eat."

"That's so!" agreed Bob, more cheerfully. "It would be fierce if we didn't have anything to chew on at all. But when I catch that Noddy Nixon--well, he'd better watch his step, that's all."

"He's a coward, and lazy!" declared Ned. "Else he'd rustle his own wood. I had hard work to get that bunch. There was a German sniper who had a pretty fine bead on the place where I saw the sticks, but I went down the trench a way, and began firing at him from there."

"Did you hit him?" asked Bob eagerly.

"No, I didn't expect to. But I drew his attention to that particular spot. He thought a sharpshooter was there, and he laid his plans to get him. That took his attention off the pile of wood, and I sneaked out and got it. Now Noddy Nixon has it!"

"I hope he burns his tongue on the hot soup or coffee or whatever he heats with it," was the most charitable thing Jerry said. And the others echoed this. Their nerves were on edge from the constant fighting and danger they were in, and they were in no mood to be trifled with. And at such times trifles that otherwise would be laughed at a.s.sumed large proportions.

However, there was no help for it. The three chums, as did their comrades in the trenches, ate their supper cold, and then, cleaning themselves as best they could from the wet, sticky mud, they prepared to get what sleep they might until it was their turn to go on duty again.

The dugout was as comfortable as any of its kind, but it was not like home, of course, and its accommodations were far short of even the worst camps the Motor Boys had put up at during their many journeys.

Still there was not a word of complaint. It was war--war for freedom--and discomforts were laughed at.

"Name of a name, how it rains! as our friends the French say,"

exclaimed Jerry, as he came into the dugout prepared to turn in, for he had been sent on a message by an officer after supper.

"Hard?" asked Ned, who, like Bob, was in a sort of bunk.

"Hard? I should say so. Look; my tin hat is dented from the drops!"

and Jerry took it off and pretended to point out indentations made by the rain drops. He shook his slicker, and a spray of moisture flew about.

"Here! Quit that!" called a tall, lanky soldier from the bunk across from Jerry. "If you want to give a moving picture of a Newfoundland dog go outside! I'm just getting dry."

"Beg your pardon, old man!" exclaimed Jerry. "I didn't realize how wet I was."

He took off some of his garments, hanging them where they might possibly get partly dry by morning, and then turned in. Whether he and his chums would get a peaceful night's sleep or not, depended on the Huns across No Man's Land. If an attack was started it meant that the soldiers in the dugouts, as well as those on guard in the trenches, would have to jump into the fight. With this end in view, every one on turning in for the night had his weapons ready, and few did more than make an apology for undressing. That was left until they went on rest billet. Guns, grenades and gas masks were in readiness for instant use.