Ned, Bob and Jerry on the Firing Line Part 21

A yell on their left caught the ears of Jerry and his chums.

"Are we giving way?" asked Ned, grimly despairing.

"No! It's the tanks! Look!" screamed Bob.

And the tanks it was. A score of them, great lumbering giants, impervious to everything save heavy guns, on they crawled, smas.h.i.+ng concrete machine-gun nests as though they were but collections of vipers' eggs in a field.

These tanks turned the tide of battle at that particular point. For the Germans were putting up a stiff resistance, and were about to launch a counter-attack, as was learned later.

But with the tanks to protect them, to splatter death from their armored machine guns, to spread terror and fear among the Huns, the day was saved.

On rushed the Americans, Ned, Bob, and Jerry among them, while all about them thundered the big guns, rattled the rifles, adding their din to the tat-a-tat-tat of the machine guns.

And then the Germans, unable to withstand this withering fire and being inadequately supported by their artillery, broke in confusion and ran--ran to escape the terrible death that awaited them from the avengers of a world dishonored by the Boches.

Wave after wave of storming troops now surged over the positions lately occupied in force by the Germans. Up the wooded slopes they swept, taking possession of dominant heights so long desired. The objective was more than won, and the American position much improved.

The fury of the fighting began to die away. But it was still terrific in spots, for there were many machine-gun nests left behind when the Huns retreated, and the holders of them were told to die at their posts. Many did.

When Ned, Bob, Jerry, and some of their comrades, led by an officer, approached one of the dugouts there was no sign of life. It had been spouting death from a machine gun but a little while before, however.

"Look out!" some one shouted. "Maybe they're playing possum!"

And so it was, for as the group advanced there was a burst of fire, and half a dozen men went down. Ned and Bob had a vision of Jerry crumpling up at the very entrance of the dugout, and their hearts seemed to stop beating.

"Drive 'em out! Kill the Boches! Wipe 'em up!" yelled the survivors.

With a fierce yell, Ned tossed into the open doorway a hand grenade.

It exploded with terrific force, partly wrecking the place, and then in rushed he and his comrades, with gleaming bayonets.

"_Kamerad! Kamerad!_" came the cowardly appeal from the Germans.

And a moment later out of the dugout where the machine gun had been concealed came four German soldiers, all that was left alive of a company of twenty, and of these four two were badly wounded.

Ned and Bob, seeing that the place, the last of any opposition in that section, was captured, were about to turn back to see if Jerry was still alive, when a second look at one of the German prisoners caused Ned to cry:

"Nick Schmouder!"

"_Ja!_" came the answer, and then, in German, he asked:

"Who speaks my name?"

"Nick Schmouder!" said Ned again.

"Do you know this man?" asked an officer sharply.

"Yes," answered Ned. "He used to be a janitor at Boxwood Hall, a school I attended."

And the face of Nick Schmouder showed as much wonder as did that of Ned Slade.

CHAPTER XIX

NEWS AT LAST

"Well, well, Nick! To think of meeting you here!" exclaimed Bob.

"Don't speak to the Hun!" some one called, and then, for the first time, Ned and Bob seemed to realize that the little man, with whom they had been on friendly terms at college, was an enemy.

But such was the case. It was only one of many queer incidents of the war, and more than one fighting American found among the prisoners sent back, after he and his comrades had cleaned up a Boche nest, some man he had known back home--a former waiter at a club, perhaps, or a man who delivered his groceries.

"How came you here?" asked Nick Schmouder, with scarcely a trace of German accent, as he and the other prisoners stood with upraised hands, though one of the survivors had to drop his as he fell in a heap because of weakness from his wounds.

"We came here to teach the Kaiser how to walk Spanish," said Bob. "I didn't think you'd fight against us, Nick, after what you learned at Boxwood Hall."

"Ach! I was forced to," was the answer. "I am glad it is over--that I am a prisoner. I did not like this war. I shall be glad when it is over and you have won. It is terrible! Listen, I will a secret tell,"

and he did not seem afraid of the effect it might have on his apathetic comrades. "Every time I shoot the machine gun I point it at the ground so it will kill no Americans. I do not want to kill them."

"Hum, that's a good story to tell now!" said the incredulous officer.

"Take 'em to the rear with the other prisoners. Wait, though, this one can't walk. He'll have to have a stretcher. I'll have his wounds patched up. But take the others back. Corporal Hopkins!" he called.

"Corporal Hopkins is wounded, Sir," reported Ned, with a catch in his voice. "He may be dead. He fell just as we stormed this place, Sir!"

"Oh, I did not know that. See to him at once. Here!" he called to some stretcher-bearers who were coming up, "we may need you!"

They hurried forward, and, leaving Nick Schmouder and the other German prisoners under guard, the officer, with Ned, Bob, and some other Americans, went back to where Jerry had been seen to fall. It was just outside of a little defile leading to the dugout where the machine gun had wrought such havoc.

"There--there he is!" faltered Ned, as he pointed to the crumpled-up body of his chum, and Bob turned his face away, for it seemed to be the end of Jerry Hopkins.

There was blood on Jerry's head, and blood had seeped out from his right leg, near the knee. Poor Jerry lay very still, and about him were heaped others, who were unmistakably dead.

The lieutenant bent over the corporal and made a hasty examination.

There was relief on his face--relief which was reflected on the countenances of Ned and Bob as he said:

"He's still alive, but badly hurt, I'm afraid. Take him back as gently as you can."

Ned and Bob helped lift him on to the stretcher. Jerry did not move, and so faint was his breathing that there were times when it seemed to stop altogether.

Desperately as Ned and Bob wanted to go back to the dressing station to learn how it fared with their chum, they must stay on duty in the advanced position they had helped to win. It must be consolidated as much as possible before night, or the Germans might launch a counter offensive.

And so, when the Hun machine gun had been turned about, ready to rake any advancing lines of its recent owners, other measures were taken to insure the holding of the position won at such cost.

"I'd like to have a talk with that Nick," said Bob, as he and Ned paused for a moment in their work of digging trenches.

"Yes, isn't it strange to meet him here like this? If he fired any of the shots that did up Jerry Hopkins, why----"