The Big Five Motorcycle Boys on the Battle Line Part 22

"What are they waiting for, do you think, Rod?" asked Josh, between the roars of the opposing guns.

"The French leader hates to sacrifice so many of his brave men while that battery is in a position to sweep the ford," replied the other, without hesitation, showing that he had grasped the situation even in that brief time.

"Well, tell me how he expects to get rid of the same?" continued Josh, though he had to place his lips close to Rod's ear, and fairly bellow his words in order to make himself heard, such was the increasing din close by.

"Perhaps he keeps hoping that some of his own guns will be able to locate the German battery among the bushes there, and disable it," said Rod.

Hanky Panky pulled at his sleeve. When Rod turned his head he found the other pointing excitedly upwards, and upon casting his own eyes in that quarter Rod instantly knew what his chum meant.

"Two French aeroplanes going up, sure enough!" he exclaimed.

"Mebbe they mean to try and drop bombs on the battery, so's to destroy it!" suggested Josh, whose attention had also been drawn to the new feature in the lively drama taking place before them.

Rod nodded his head to signify that the idea struck him as worth while.

Even had he attempted to speak just then his effort would have been pretty much wasted, for the din had become something terrible. A thousand French soldiers were cheering, even while being held in check by their officers; they made Rod think of hounds restrained by the leash, and loudly bewailing their inability to jump forward. He could easily imagine with what frantic zeal those men would leap ahead and into the waters of the Marne when the time came.

Up higher and higher soared the twin aeroplanes, climbing in eccentric spirals.

Evidently the daring birdmen intended to attain a certain height where they might feel reasonably safe from the shrapnel sent after them from antiaircraft guns manned by the Germans; when they would try their luck in dropping the bombs they undoubtedly carried with them, in hopes of making a lucky shot.

"It's going to come soon, I guess!" ventured Josh, when a brief lull in all the firing allowed him a chance to get in a few words.

"Yep," added Hanky Panky, who was getting a stiff neck with looking up so long; "right now you can see that they're sailing around like they might be looking for a good place to hover. But they'd better take care, because that shrapnel is bursting just below them, and some time a sh.e.l.l might hit home."

A loud whoop from Josh instantly followed these words.

"There, one let go a bomb, as sure as you live!" he shouted; "look and see where it hits!"

Quickly following came a report, and the boys could see the earth fly in showers.

"Not by a jugful!" whooped Hanky Panky, also carried away with the excitement of the moment; "they'll have to aim better than that if they expect to knock the German battery out of business."

The second airman tried his hand, and while possibly he managed to do a little better than the first the result was also disappointing.

Evidently they were at too great a height to be able to strike a small mark like the hidden battery. At that early stage in the war which had been sprung so suddenly on France, her aviators had not as yet become proficient in this sort of shooting; later on when they had been given much practice, the result was bound to be quite different.

When the birdmen had exhausted all their bombs and made no impression on the dangerous battery they were compelled to desist and circle around.

Evidently it was the intention of the air scouts while aloft to learn all they could connected with the disposition of the German forces. This information would prove valuable to the French commander, whether able to win the coveted ford or not.

"Will they give up trying to cross over now?" asked Hanky Panky, after it was seen that the efforts of the circling birdmen, much more than half a mile aloft, had not met with any sort of success.

"That isn't the usual French way of fighting, if all I've heard and seen of them cuts any figure in the game!" Josh exclaimed.

Rod, too, seemed to be of the same opinion.

"I think they must be getting ready to make a mad effort to rush the ford," he went on to say; "you notice that their guns are silent just now; but that's done so they can burst out with a more terrible bombardment than ever, under cover of which the attack will be started."

"But why all this row over just one contemptible little ford?" asked Hanky Panky innocently.

Josh snorted at hearing this.

"Why, can't you see what it means to both sides to control a crossing where the artillery can get over without building a bridge?" he demanded. "To hold up the French here the Germans would be willing to sacrifice thousands of their best men, because it would save their big guns now on the way north. There, it's coming, I do believe."

None of them heard the last words spoken by Josh, and for a very good reason. Every gun the French had within a mile of the ford began to bellow in concert, and the ground shook under the concussion. Across on the other side they could see the sh.e.l.ls bursting everywhere. It seemed as though they sought out each place where they suspected hostile batteries or columns of troops might lie in hiding, thus fairly raking the entire vicinity.

This was "preparing the ground for the seed," as army men would put it.

When this fierce "spraying" was well under way no doubt the order that had been awaited so long and impatiently by the concealed French soldiers was to be given; when they would start toward the bank of the river and strike into the shallow water, breasting their way across if possible.

The three boys fairly held their breath with awe, knowing what was coming next. Hanky Panky crouched there s.h.i.+vering like one who had the "shakes," yet wholly unable to drag his horrified eyes away from the grim spectacle of war that was pa.s.sing before him. Josh, on the other hand, had arisen to his feet, knowing that there was little or no chance of his being noticed and fired at, unless indeed some German gunner conceived the idea that they were a group of French officers observing the progress of the battle from an eminence.

This dreadful "spraying" with fire had gone on for some little time now when Rod saw signs that told him the expected event was coming. He could not have made his chums hear, no matter how he shouted, and so he contented himself with clutching each of them, Hanky Panky by the arm and Josh by the calf of his leg. They knew what he meant by this action, too, even though not a word was uttered.

The violent gunfire was being kept up, but from several points there suddenly burst into view living streams of French soldiers racing madly for the ford, and every man apparently wild to be the first to attempt the deadly crossing.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A FRENCH HERO.

"Can they ever do it?"

Undoubtedly this was what was filling the heart and brain of each of those boys as they watched the living stream of French rapidly draw nearer the river ford commanded by that destructive German battery, and which thus far they had not been able to reach and silence with their own guns and aeroplane attacks.

The time between the uprising of these troops and their reaching the shallow water of the ford was of very brief duration. Undoubtedly the French had crept up just as close as the nature of the ground would permit them to go unseen.

Still to those anxious hearts on the little rise it must have seemed dreadfully long, owing to the strain they were laboring under. As yet the Germans had held their fire, for not a man of the attacking force had fallen save when they stumbled, only to rise again.

Possibly Hanky Panky may even have deluded himself with the hope that when it came to a pinch the Germans had deemed it best to give up their desperate intention of defending the ford to the last gasp. Josh knew better, because he understood the holdfast nature of the Teutons better than did his chums. And he was mentally figuring on just when the bitter blast would break forth that was going to mow down those valiant men with the red trousers and the blue tunics rus.h.i.+ng pell-mell forward with such ringing huzzas.

At least the men separated as they ran, doubtless following the instructions of their officers. This was bound to be of advantage to them, since the fire of the enemy could not cut them down as ripe grain falls before the scythe of the reaper or the revolving knives of the modern mowing machine.

"Some may manage to get across anyhow!" Josh was telling himself, as though seeking comfort.

Now the first of the French had reached the bank. They leaped impetuously into the water and hastened to start across. As they advanced of course they waded deeper, and their pace lessened. Was this just what those cool, calculating German gunners were waiting for? Rod expected to hear the first crash at any second now. How his heart went out to those gallant fellows splas.h.i.+ng through the river at the disputed ford. He felt as though he must shut his eyes so as not to see what was fated to occur; but for the life of him he could not. Some power beyond his control forced him to continue to crouch there and stare with all his might and main, as though he must omit no small detail of the amazing picture.

The ford was now fairly alive with moving figures, all pus.h.i.+ng hurriedly toward the other sh.o.r.e, where not a German could be seen. The bushes in that quarter lay there as una.s.suming as though every one did not conceal a foe with ready rifle waiting for the order to come to pour in a terrific fire.

That was the picture Rod would often recall in days to come. It was stamped on his memory in imperishable colors--the bright sunlight, the hovering clouds of billowy powder smoke, the gay uniforms of the charging Frenchmen, the sombre, oppressive silence hovering over the opposite bank of the river--all these things had a part in the never-to-be-forgotten scene.

Then it seemed as though some volcano, long held in check, must have burst the confines of Nature in a mighty convulsion. From several points there came the thunderous discharge of batteries, while a thousand rifles added their sharper notes to the dreadful chorus.

And the men in the river, what of them?

Scores could be seen to throw up their arms and disappear, the current doubtless bearing them away. Others were forced to turn and start back to the sh.o.r.e they had so recently left, having been wounded more or less severely. Gaps appeared in the various groups, showing what terrible carnage those guns in the leading German battery had already executed.

Still the forward movement had not been as yet effectually stopped.