CHAPTER XVII
MISSING: A BROTHER
In the bright sunlight of early morning, No Man's Land was a sight tobehold. It was fairly covered with grayish-green forms, rifles, tincups and accoutrements belonging to Fritz. Here and there one of thegrayish-green figures was seen to move feebly. The majority, however,lay motionless. Uncle Sam's rifles and machine guns had done theirdeadly work only too well.
As for the German front-line trench, it was practically ruined. That itwas still inhabited was proven by bullets which whined across No Man'sLand every time a Sammy chanced to expose his body ever so little.Sammy sharp-shooters were also on the job, returning the complimentwith interest when the least sign of a Hun was visible.
Looking through the periscope at the wreck across the way, JimmyBlaise again marveled that he was alive and unhurt. Compared to thebombardment of last night his first experience of being under fireseemed mild. He wondered that so many of his comrades were still leftin the fire trench, practically uninjured.
The American fire trench itself was a sickening sight. It was stickywith mud and blood and littered with the shattered bodies of deadSammies, each in itself a ghastly horror.
Here and there detached arms and legs added to the gruesome spectacle.Not far from where Jimmy stood at the periscope lay the head and trunkof a Khaki Boy cut fairly in two by an exploding shell.
As yet the stretcher-bearers were too busy to remove these dreadfulevidences of the night of carnage through which Jimmy had somehowpassed unscathed.
Since the cessation of firing on both sides he had been picking hisway through the trench, seeking his bunkies. His search, thus far,fruitless, Jimmy had paused briefly to look through the periscope.
He was savagely glad at the slaughtered Boches it revealed, yet hisreal object in viewing bloody No Man's Land was to see if, among thatgray-green assemblage of motionless, distorted shapes, he could catcha flash of olive drab uniform that had once held a living, breathingbunkie, Franz Schnitzel.
Unable to discover that which his straining eyes eagerly sought, heturned away from the periscope and stumbled on down the trench,blinded by the swift blur of tears. Where was Schnitz, and would hepresently come upon Iggy, Bob and Roger, or what had once been histhree Brothers?
He had hoped to find Dalton easily, as their stations were so closetogether, but he had seen no trace of cheery old Bob. His spiritsdropped to zero, Jimmy poked a disconsolate head into a dugout. It wasfilled with wan-faced, disheveled men, nearly all of whom had sustainedminor injuries, which they were attending to themselves with the helpof first-aid packets.
Uttering a loud cry, Jimmy suddenly bolted into the dugout and straightto a corner where a man was engaged in binding up the injured wrist ofanother.
"Oh, you two!" he choked.
Dropping down at the feet of the busy pair he buried his face in hishands, sobbing out of sheer nervous relief.
"My ver' bes' Brothar!"
His wounded wrist forgotten, Ignace Pulinski jerked away from RogerBarlow and plumped down beside Jimmy, hugging the latter with his wellarm.
"Blazes!" was all Roger could say as he bent and laid a hand on Jimmy'sshoulder.
"Gee, but I'm a big baby!" Jimmy raised his head and beamed at hisbunkies with wet eyes. "I guess I'm all in. I've seen so many deadones in the last few minutes that I could hardly believe my own eyeswhen I lamped you two.
"Let go of me, you old Polish bear!" This affectionately to Ignace,whose good arm still encircled his neck. "Up on your feet and get thatwrist fixed. You've pulled the bandage almost off of it."
Getting to his own feet, Jimmy hauled Ignace to a standing position.
"Now stand still, Iggins, and let me do you up," he commanded. "Does ithurt you much?"
"No-a. Never I feel sooch hurt. It is the little one from the pieceshail. It is the hurt here." Ignace's well hand touched the region ofhis heart. "Think I, mebbe so is Jimmy, Bob, Schnitz, daid. Now ismy heart better. Still is the ache we don' see the nothin' Bob an'Schnitz. Roger have no get the scratch. For that am I the glad. Now seeyou are the all to him good. It is the great happiness."
"Rodge and I are a couple of lucky guys." Jimmy's tones vibrated withthankfulness. "I can't find Bob. I think he must have been wounded. Hisstation was near mine. I've hunted all along there among----"
Jimmy paused. The horror of that search robbed him of words to continue.
"We were going to hunt for you as soon as I tied up Iggy's wrist. We'velooked for Schnitz." Roger's voice was rather unsteady. "His stationwas near ours. I'm afraid he never came back----"
"He's missing." Jimmy shook his head sadly. "But he did his bit allright for the Army." Triumph rang in this tribute to his absent bunkie."We met last night out there."
Lowering his voice, Jimmy recounted the events of the scouting party.His gray eyes glowed with pride as he told of Schnitzel's splendidachievement.
"And to think that he couldn't be the one to come back with the news herisked his life to get! It makes me sick," Jimmy ended with a groan.
"Splendid old Schnitz," eulogized Roger. "A real Brother from the wordgo. I thought as much of him as of you and Bob and Iggins, even if Ihadn't known him as long."
"No one could help liking him. He was my idea of a thorough-goingman. I know we've got to expect this horrible business of losing oneanother, but it comes hard. Tough luck!"
"Mebbe Schnitz no daid. Mebbe him prisonar," faltered Ignace. "So thinkI better be daid than go live by Boche."
"Here, too," agreed Jimmy bitterly. "I'd rather think him dead tentimes over than at the mercy of those black-hearted fiends. We ought totreat the prisoners we took the same way they've threatened to do toour men. But we won't. We're human and they're inhuman.
"We've got to get busy and find Bob," he reminded. "I'd be as much inthe dumps about him as Schnitz, if it wasn't that I know that whateverhas happened to him, he's not a prisoner of the Hun dogs. I'm going outnow to look again for him. You fellows wait here for me. We'll soonhave coffee and grub handed us. I'll take a hike up the trench and comeback in time to eat with you. Afterward I'll go at it again unless Iget a detail that'll keep me from it. Last night's fracas means hardwork all day and lots of it."
Leaving his bunkies in the dugout, Jimmy retraced his steps throughthat ghastly lane of dead men. Every few paces he paused to staredarkly at a still form, the face of which was smashed beyondidentification.
Frequently he stooped over such an one and examined the identificationtag attached to the left wrist. He also kept a sharp look-out for agold service ring which Bob had worn on the ring finger of his righthand. The four Brothers had service rings exactly alike, save for theinitial engraved on each plate. These rings had been given them by theBlaises during that memorable Christmas furlough spent with Jimmy'sparents.
This careful scrutiny of the dead, coupled with the constant passingto and fro of stretcher-bearers, made his progress through the trenchvery slow. The groans of the wounded wrenched his heart. Often hestopped and held his water bottle to the lips of a pain-crazed Sammy,who moaned piteously for water. Again a stretcher-bearer would solicithis help in placing a wounded soldier gently upon a stretcher.
It was during one of these labors of mercy that Jimmy stumbled uponnews of Bob. Assisting a couple of first-aid men to place the bleedingwreck of an infantryman upon a stretcher, one of them looked sharplyover and said:
"I think we took a friend of yours back quite a while ago. Ablack-eyed, curly-haired chap. I saw him with you after the bombardmentthe other morning when we came up here to carry off the casualties. Hewas at the dugout afterward to get his face fixed up. The plaster wasstill on it when we took him back this morning."
"That's Bob! What happened to him?" Jimmy fairly shouted his question.
"Knocked out by a piece of shell. It grazed his scalp and put him tosleep. Nothing very serious. Come along with us and you can see him.We'll fix it for you," was the kindly offer.
"You're all to the mustard,
" Jimmy responded gratefully. "Will I goalong? Well, you bet."
Trotting along behind the stretcher, Jimmy was soon in thecommunication trench. A short walk brought him to a first-aid dugout.It was full of cots, on which lay wounded soldiers, many of whom wouldsoon be on the way to a hospital back of the lines.
"There's your man." Pointing to a cot, the good-naturedstretcher-bearer immediately turned to attend to his work.
Jimmy, however, did not need direction. He had already spied Bob.
"Hello, Blazes," greeted a faint but cheerful voice, as Jimmy reachedthe cot. Very white, his head bandaged, Bob's grin was still inevidence.
Tears again rushed to Jimmy's eyes as he grabbed the hand Bob stretchedout to him.
"I've been hunting you ever since the guns quit," he said brokenly."Are you hurt any place besides your head?"
"Nope. A piece of shell barked my venerable cocoanut. The rainmaker hadto put a few stitches in it. It's all right now. I'm going to dig outof here first chance I get. I'll be back in the nice safe fire trenchbefore night. Just watch my speed. Maybe I'm not tickled to see you,you blazing Blazes! What about Roger, Iggy and Schnitz?"
Bob's voice rose in worried alarm.
"Roger is O. K. Iggy got his wrist gashed by a bit of shell.Schnitz----"
Jimmy gulped.
"Gone West?"
The question came almost in a whisper.
"Missing. Never came back from No Man's Land."
Rapidly Jimmy again related all he knew of Schnitzel. When he hadfinished, a heavy silence descended upon the two.
"Poor Schnitz!" Bob said at last. "Brave, wonderful Schnitz, I mean. Hewas all A. and no G. Well, Blazes, it's a great life, but it doesn'tlast long. We do our little bit of a bit and away we go, Westwardbound. What we miss to-day we'll get to-morrow, maybe. The Glory Roadis a pretty dangerous thoroughfare these days. Just the same, it's theonly road any right-minded fellow can travel. I'm not sorry I took toit. Hope I last long enough to run a few Boches into the ditch."
"The 'ditch' is full of 'em this morning," was Jimmy's grim response."Most of that crack Prussian regiment is taking a long sleep out therein No Man's Land. Their fire trench is all smashed in and the Dutchiesdon't dare show a head. Our fellows are potting 'em right along. Youought to see it."
"I'm going to."
Bob swung his legs over the side of the cot and stood up, swaying alittle. "Hang the rainmakers," he grumbled. "Bobby was a sick Sammy,but he's improving werry fast. Come on, let's beat it out of here.I'm going back to the fire trench and enjoy myself. My pack is kickingaround here somewhere. That shell did for my helmet. You'd better go onahead. I'll follow soon. Goodness knows what happened to my rifle. Ican get another easily enough."
Jimmy could not help smiling. Nothing short of utter disablement wouldkeep restless Bob long in bed.
"You lie down and take it easy," he admonished. "I'm going back to tellthe fellows you're still alive and kicking."
"Sure I'm alive," grinned Bob. "Kicking, of course I am. Who wouldn'tbe? Do you think a little biff on the bean is going to keep Bobbyindoors? Nix. You go ahead and break the glad news to Iggins and Rodge.I'll rustle up my lost traps and kiss this place good-bye. They've gottheir hands full here. They'll never miss me."
Thus urged, Jimmy left the first-aid dugout and hurried back to thefront-line trench to apprise his bunkies of the good news. Good old Bobhad been spared to them. He thanked God for that. Yet his heart washeavy with sadness, as he thought of Franz Schnitzel.
He could not reconcile himself to believe that he would never seeSchnitz again. Within him rose a curious conviction that their good-byein the shell crater had not been a final farewell. He had a "hunch,"as it were, that Schnitz and himself would meet again, and before long.