HAVE you heard the news?” Buck Granger came bursting into a little group of men which included Sergeant Tom Walton, George Harper and two or three others. News! It is the great thing for which an army looks and watches and waits. News of a campaign to be launched, of an attack to be expected, of the men who have been in hospital or are missing, of the things that are going on back home where every soldier himself wants to be. News! The word always makes men forget their aches, their pains, their gossip or chatter to hear it. “What news?” demanded George Harper. “We haven’t heard it. What is it.” “The Germans are asking for an armistice. Austria has already followed the example of the other German allies, set first by Bulgaria, and now Germany practically admits herself defeated and is suing for time in which to determine terms of peace.” “What!” a couple of men ejaculated in unison. “Where did you hear that?” “From a Frenchman and an American half a mile below, who have just returned from Paris,” Granger explained, as breathlessly excited as were his listeners. “It’s gospel, too, for I heard the men repeat it to a captain and a major.” “Why, that means the ending of the war, with complete victory for the Allies,” put in Sergeant Tom. “Hooray!” shouted another, unable longer to control his enthusiasm, “and that means that we’ll soon be starting home to the good old U. S. A.” Like wildfire the news spread throughout the camp, and apparently it soon was confirmed from more authoritative quarters, for the officers themselves seemed lifted to a new sphere of happiness, and made no effort to keep down the jubilation which now ran high among the men. Ollie Ogden, coming past one of the branch telephone posts, responded to a mysterious beckoning of a friend in the Signal Corps. “Heard it?” that young man asked, in lowered tones. “No; what?” was Ollie’s reply and query. He was drawn aside, and for two or three moments he lent willing ear to the whispered words of the other man. His face was a marvel in changing expressions, but as he turned a questioning look upon the Signal Corps man, the latter concluded with, “It’s absolutely true; I got the message myself. The date’s set for November 11th, and this, if you’ll recall, is mighty near that date.” Ollie waited for no more, but hurried along to where he knew he would find Tom and Harper. He was surprised to find that apparently everyone else knew of the reported request of the Germans for an armistice, but it was left to him to be the bearer of the information that the request had been agreed to, under certain stipulations, and that, tentatively at least, November 11th was the day that had been agreed upon for the suspension of hostilities. It was in the very height of the further excitement caused by this confirmatory news, that a messenger arrived to say that the three lads, together with one or two others, were wanted at brigade headquarters. “What for?” George Harper asked. “I have my own suspicions it’s not for anything unpleasant,” the messenger replied with a knowing grin, “but at the same time it’s not for me to say or begin predicting, and if I were you I’d hustle right along without asking any more questions.” The advice was good in that the lads could do naught else, and there evidently was nothing to be gained by interrogating the other fellow further. So in ten minutes they were at brigade headquarters, while several companies stood at attention and a stern looking French major-general stepped forth before the men who had been summoned from several different units. The purpose almost instantly was made clear, and Tom Walton, at one end of the line, was the first to receive a French decoration. Although all of the men had heard much about such proceedings, they were not entirely prepared for what happened immediately after the general, without a word or other sign, had pinned the emblem upon Tom Walton’s blouse. The soldier of France grasped the American sergeant by the shoulders, firmly planted a kiss upon his right cheek, then turned him slightly and for the edification of all the onlookers, repeated the process upon the left. And thus, to the suppressed amusement of the scores of men who witnessed the ceremony, and to the consternation and confusion of the young men who were the principals in it, the award of honors and the accompanying osculatory salutations continued, until every one of those who had been summoned there had received the badge of his valor, together with the embrace and kisses upon the cheek which are a part of the French custom of such recognition of deeds of sacrifice and heroism. As speedily as they could, when the ceremony was over, Tom, George and Ollie headed back to where the men of Company C were gathered; but not yet was the work of the day concluded. Their captain had been seeking them, and to him they were bound at once to report. “I congratulate you,” he said, as the youths appeared before him, “for not only have you today received the Distinguished Service Cross from the French Government, and well earned them, too, but the higher command of your own army has also recognized the value of your services, in promotions which the colonel has just certified to me. “Sergeant Thomas Walton you are henceforth a second lieutenant in the United States army, and I herewith hand you your commission duly signed.” Before Tom even could give utterance to the surprise and gratification which for the moment overwhelmed him, the captain had turned to the other two boys. “We may be upon the verge of peace,” he said, “and yet again one never can tell what the next hour will bring forth in war. But whatever occurs, whether hostilities be continued or suspended, both of you are advanced to positions of sergeant—and in announcing these advancements or promotions I am proud to say that they were hard won and are well deserved, and that I wish you three young men the greatest of happiness and the very best of luck.” The world war was about at an end. The three boys from Brighton had been tried and found capable in every task that had been placed before them.
|