CHAPTER XII
HUNTING BIG GAME IN NO MAN'S LAND
There was nothing of self-consciousness about Corporal Whitcomb over thecapture of a high commander of the enemy on almost the first night ofhis experiences at the front. As Roy Flynn put it:
"Herb's never chesty; wasn't at school, though heaps o' duffers whocouldn't stay with him in anything, indoors or out, would swell up likepoisoned pups. That's Herb."
Just then the object of the conversation walked into the dugout.
"When are they going to send his nibs, General Sauerkraut, to the rear,Corporal?" asked Sniper G. Washington Smith.
"As soon as the patrol arrives; to-morrow at the latest. I believe hetalked some to Gardner last night; tried to bribe him. Flynn, your turnon guard duty, now, over the prisoners. Relieve Watson. The lieutenantwants one of our men with three of his over them all the time. Gaul, yougo on to-night.
"Have most of you fellows washed, shaved, and eaten breakfast?"continued Herbert. "If so, we'd better all go out on the hill again fora little while and try to head off those snipers from the other side.Letty says they are getting busy after the big gun. Two bulletsflattened on his sight guard a little while ago; one of them must becloser than they've been yet."
"Ain't _you_ the feller to get him?" queried Martin Gaul.
"What's the matter, Gaul? Anything getting on your nerves?"
"No more'n on yours or anybody's. Show me the man who's in love with allthis. That old gun up there would drive a stuffed dummy crazy, andbullets droppin' in here every now and then and expecting them Boches todrop in, too; and dirt and filth and crawlers and cookin' your ownmeals, and cold nights----"
"Do you think that's showing the right spirit? All of us are putting upwith the same discomforts, the same nerve strain and we're getting sportout of it, or at least the consciousness that we must sacrifice comfortsfor the cause. You are the first I have heard complain. Best to chimein, old man, and cut out the kicks."
"Mebbe you'd kick, too, if you were sick," Gaul said.
"Sick? Well, now, that's different. What's the matter? Just how do youfeel?"
"Sore all over. Cold, I reckon. Head aches. Pain in my face, too. Got noappetite."
"Sudden, then; eh? Saw you eating a while ago as if you never expectedto get any more. You know the grub lorries get here once in so often andenough. But turn in on your cot now and cover up warm. Geddes, you heatGaul a cup of tea and take and dry his shoes. And put on dry socks,Gaul. I'll get you some pills. Get ready, fellows! Geddes, you join uswhen you can. Are all your guns clean? Remember, you want your gas masksalong. There's no telling when the Boches may let go some of thatstuff."
Sneaking, crawling, seeking every bit of cover, getting into pits madeby formerly exploded shells when the Germans had driven the French for atime a year before from this same spot, the five snipers worked over theslope and sought by every means to locate and fire upon those of theenemy who were at the same job.
Herb lay behind a pile of debris once tossed up by a shell, his gun overa mass of pebbles in which he had, with a stick, pushed two narrowgrooves, one for his weapon, the other as a peep-hole. To get him, abullet would have to hit exactly in this groove, in line with it;otherwise the stones would deflect it upward.
The lad studied the entire landscape all the way to and beyond theGerman trenches, a third of a mile away. If, in the equal number ofhiding places below, there was a decided motion of any kind he shouldhave been able to see it.
He heard no shots from his men now scattered over the slope; evidentlythe Hun marksmen were not out, or were keeping very still. He laysilent, alone, under the warming, welcome sun of late autumn.
It had been a beautiful day, following almost a week of incessant rain.The sun shone in a sky almost without clouds. All along the trenches fora long distance there was not a sound of firing, not an impression onthe ear that even slightly suggested two opposing armies seeking to shedeach other's blood.
Far over beyond the hillside a bird, welcoming the sunshine also,caroled a lively ditty over and over again. Herbert guessed it was somekind of a linnet and wished that he might calmly arise without a senseof danger and go to spy on the singer. A plucky, little featheredadventurer it must be, indeed, to boldly invade this area of killing andto give such small heed to the deafening boom of great cannon and thefrequent crackle of rifles and machine guns.
McGuire it was who crept on hands and knees or advanced in a stoopingposture, according to the depth of the sheltering stones or bushesbetween himself and the enemy, and when within speaking distance ofHerbert, began a desultory conversation.
"I--ah--know they are on the--ah--hill," he announced, meaning, ofcourse, the Germans. "Saw one, if not--ah--two, or more. They are lyingjust as low--ah--as we are and are--ah--taking no chances, I presume. Isit not a most beautiful day?"
"A ripper, sure!" was Herbert's reply. "You ought to keep mighty welldown, McGuire. 'Tisn't safe to show yourself too much."
"Do you--ah--know," said the ex-glove salesman, "I do not believe thosefellows can shoot well enough to--ah--hit me this far away. It is veryfine shooting to do so."
"They are not all poor shots, by any means," asserted Herbert.
"I think I--ah--would take chances with the best of them and how greatlyI--ah--hope for the opportunity." The young man smiled in the very sweetbut sad sort of way that must have helped him sell many a pair ofgloves. He turned about and crept to a pile of stones and began anothersurvey of the hunting field.
Herbert wondered where the German marksman could have been located thathad harassed the gun crew earlier in the morning and that he had comeout to locate and drive off. There were plenty of hiding places, to besure, but the fellow must disclose his position now if he began shootingagain. And it was the business of the sniping squad to stop this.
To the right three of Herb's men had located themselves, this offeringthe likeliest situation for protection to the gun. It was too far awayfrom the German trench to be in danger from rifle fire, but here enemysnipers could venture out.
Over to the left the ground was clearer of long grass, low bushes androcks and still beyond that, in No Man's Land, perfectly bare.
The young corporal had about given up the idea of snipers immediatelyopposing his position. He was thinking of returning to the pit toperform certain duties falling constantly upon a leader of even a fewmen, for he must do all in his power for their comfort and well being,when he heard a low exclamation come from McGuire. Herbert evenrecognized the halting "ah" somewhere in it, though he did not fullycatch the words. But he saw the man quickly level his gun over the stonepile and fire.
There was no answering shot, and for some little time McGuire lay thereinert. Herb could not fully see the precise object of the ex-salesman'smarksmanship; he was aware only of a shell pit and its tossed-up earthpile, and a gun muzzle sticking above it. This gradually was lowered.
"Lay low, McGuire!" Herbert cautioned, seeing the fellow beginning torise up and peer over his stone pile in an effort to see what effect hislast shot had taken. And then he was aware that McGuire was not lookingin the direction of the shell pit.
Far beyond and to one side of the shell pit, easily a distance of threehundred yards, a German sniper was crawling flat on his stomach in aneffort to gain a better shelter; perhaps he believed himself unseen. Hewas almost hidden from Herbert.
McGuire's gun spoke again; the fellow had risen on one knee to shootwith a clearer view. The crawling German rolled over, appeared as thoughhe were trying to tie himself into a knot and then suddenly collapsedand lay still.
Twice again and in rapid succession McGuire fired; Herbert saw all this,but not clearly, though he was about to shoot also on a chance. Theother had the nearer and better view and he was now on his feet.
One of the enemy, on his knees and still farther below, had leveled hisgun, but before he could pull the trigger he had pitched forward, wherehe lay still; another, too, had bravely risen to his feet and wa
s takingan aim at McGuire when he also went down.
And then there was a crack from the rifle in the near shell pit.
Out of the corner of his eye Herbert saw McGuire fall to the ground; heknew by that momentary instinct that is never failing what this meant.But he did not then turn his head. Instead his eyes were leveled alonghis pet gun barrel and beyond to where merely the helmet, the foreheadand the eyes of a man showed above the shell-pit mound.
Herb had to make quick, sure work of it. But with the crack of hisrifle, knowing just where that bullet would go, the boy could not resista sickening, pitying sensation, for proof of his accurate aim came whenthe German half rose out of the shell pit and lay prone across hisfallen gun.
The corporal, himself now almost unmindful of danger, stooping, crossedto where McGuire lay, and knelt beside him. A glance told him enough.With something like a sob Herbert began to work his way back to the gunpit.
"Dead instantly," was his remark to Lieutenant Jackson. "But he died ahero's death. Outshot the German snipers, as he said he could, and gotthree of them before a fourth got him. Poor chap, he was as brave as tentigers and as gentle as a lamb. Our first man to go."
"There will likely be others, Whitcomb. You must get used to it. Thefortunes of war, you know."
But a fellow of Herbert's make-up never could, nor did he ever, get usedto such a thing. Though not the less determined to do his duty, he wasnow more than ever down on and disgusted with the whole useless,hateful, miserable business of war.
Down the slope toward the German trenches lay four dead Germans, perhapssome of them not quite dead; possibly still suffering, bleeding, dyingslowly, and where they could not be reached because of the unremittingdesire of both sides to take every advantage of an enemy. There was nosuch thing as the white flag for purposes of succoring the wounded in NoMan's Land.