Read Army Boys on the Firing Line; or, Holding Back the German Drive Page 24

  CHAPTER XXIV

  WOUNDS AND TORTURE

  When long hours afterward Frank came to himself, he lay for a timewondering where he was and what had happened to him.

  His brain was not clear, and he had the greatest difficulty inconcentrating his thoughts. Little by little he pieced eventstogether. He remembered the charge made by his regiment, the pocket inwhich he had found himself when he had gone too far in advance of hiscomrades, the axe with which he had started to cut his way through thering of enemies that surrounded him. There his memory stopped.

  He must have been wounded. He raised his head painfully and lookedhimself over. He did not seem to be bleeding. He put his hand to hishead. There was a cut there and a great lump that was as big as arobin's egg. The movement set his brain whirling, and he fell backdizzy and confused.

  How thirsty he was! His mouth felt as though it were stuffed withcotton. His veins felt as if fire instead of blood was in them. Histongue seemed to be double its normal size. He would have given all hepossessed for one sip of cool water.

  He seemed to be alone. There were bushes all about him. He rememberedthat he had been fighting on the edge of a wood where there was a greatdeal of underbrush. This no doubt accounted for his being alone. Outin the meadow beyond there were lying a number of dead and wounded, ashe could see by peering through the bushes. There were some dead menin the bushes, too, but no wounded. It would have been a comfort atthat moment to have had some wounded companions to whom he might speak,whom he might help, or by whom he might be helped. He felt as thoughhe were the only living man in a world of the dead.

  He tried to rise, but a horrible pain shot through his right leg as hebore his weight upon it, and it crumpled under him. He wondered if itwere broken. He felt of it carefully. No bone seemed to be broken asfar as he could tell, but the ankle was swelled to almost double itsnormal size. He must have strained or twisted it. The mere touch gavehim agony and he was forced to desist.

  His fever increased and he was afraid that he was getting delirious.Some way or other he must get back to his own lines before his sensesleft him. He got up on his hands and feet and began to crawl in whathe thought was the right direction.

  He had no idea of time. Things seemed dark around him, but he was notsure whether this was due to the sky being overcast or to the approachof twilight. Perhaps it was neither. It might be only that his eyeswere dimmed by the fever that was raging in him.

  His wounded leg dragged behind him as he slowly worked along and everymoment was torture. Sometimes it caught in a bush, and the resultingwrench almost caused him to swoon. But he kept on doggedly.

  He passed many dead men, and painfully worked his way around to avoidtouching them. One of them, he noticed, had a sack full of handgrenades. But the stiffening hand of the owner would never hurlanother of those messengers of death.

  On and on Frank toiled. His head felt so light that it seemed to bedetached from his shoulders. He caught himself talking aloud, speakingthe names of Bart and Billy and Tom. Where were they? What were theydoing? Why were they not there with him?

  And what had happened to the regiment? Had it been driven back? Heremembered the heavy reinforcements that the enemy had thrown into thefight. Perhaps the old Thirty-seventh was getting ready for anotherattack. But the effort to think was too painful and Frank gave it up.

  Suddenly he heard the sound of voices a little way in front of him, anda thrill of joy shot through him. He was paid at that moment for allhis suffering. How lucky that he had steeled himself to the task ofcrawling back to his comrades! Soon he would be with the boys again.They would give him water. They would bind up his leg. His head wouldstop aching. The hours of torture would be over.

  He was about to shout to them, when through a thick clump of bushes hesaw the helmets of German soldiers. They were working feverishly toget some machine guns in position. It was evident that they wereexpecting an attack.

  In that moment of terrible disappointment Frank tasted the bitternessof death. All that agony had been endured only to bring him into thehands of the Huns!

  But this revulsion of feeling lasted only for an instant. The sight ofhis enemies had cleared his brain and awakened his indomitable fightinginstinct. The Huns were working like mad at the machine-gun nest.That meant that the old Thirty-seventh was coming back! He must helpthem. These guns, cunningly placed, would do terrible execution ifthey were allowed to work their will.

  But what could he do unaided and alone? He was wounded and weaponless.

  Like a flash the thought came to him of the dead man whose sack wasfull of hand grenades.

  His body quailed at the thought of the journey back to where the manlay. But his spirit mastered the flesh.

  With his dragging leg one quivering pain, he crawled back. It seemedages before he got there, but at last he had secured three of thegrenades and started back for the machine-gun nest.

  He had no more than time. Behind him, he heard the well-known cheer ofhis regiment. The boys were coming!

  The gun crews heard it, too, and they gathered about their weapons,whose deadly muzzles pointed in the direction from which the rush wascoming.

  Supporting himself on one hand and knee, Frank hurled his grenades overthe top of the bush in quick succession. They fell right in the midstof the startled Germans. There was a terrific explosion and the gunsand crews were torn to pieces. Another instant and the oldThirty-seventh came smashing its way to victory.