A Double Surprise

Roy and Dave had come back unharmed from the first sniping expedition of the squad against the enemy's snipers. The former was elated at having seen a German who had crawled out of the enemy trench some distance into "No Man's Land," as the space between the opposing trenches has been nicknamed, stick his head and gun above a fallen tree trunk, shoot at Roy, and upon Roy's returning the compliment go down quickly, not to reappear. The German's bullet had chipped a bit of stone off not five inches from Roy's nose.

"Think sure I got the sucker and I hope he was Kaiser Bill himself! I kept watchin' for him, Herb, for about half an hour and he never showed up. Now, who'll get out there to bury him, I wonder?"

"Let us hope somebody does tonight," Herb said.

"Hope that? Cracky, me lad, not so fast! If they got that far they'd forget the dead one and try to make one of us live ones a dead one. But, say, if some of us can sneak down there and lay for them when they do come out for him, we could take 'em prisoners easy. How 'bout it?"

"Don't seem like fair and square fighting," said Herb.

"But they do these things!" Roy argued.

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"They will make a capture, though, sure as you're a foot high! Try it and let me in on it."

"But it will be your time sleeping. Well, maybe we can plan it. I'll talk with the lieutenant."

That night it came on to rain, harder than it had yet come down since the squad had been in France. Everything was soggy and soaked; the atmosphere seemed like a big sponge surcharged with endless dampness. Slickers were in demand and all guns and revolvers for those going forth were well cleaned and oiled.

Out of the pit and through the intense darkness Corporal Whitcomb led a party of six others, one-half of his own men and two Regulars of the platoon, all prepared for dealing a surprise. But, along with the enemy, they, too, experienced the unexpected, which in this case might better be called simply a streak of luck.

Long before dark, though compelled to dangerously expose himself, Herbert had drawn up a rough but effective map of the slope between the pit and the German trenches, actually going over some of the ground afoot and being shot at several times from the trench, but from a safer place covering the rest with his glass. Especially prominent on the map was made the fallen trunk where lay the German victim of Roy's superior marksmanship. And when Roy showed this map and his plan of action to Lieutenant Jackson the latter said:

"That's the stuff! It ought to earn you a commission. Hope you can carry it out. Yes, take Murphy and Donaldson, if you want. We'll lay low up here ready for a counter-raid if you signal us."

Now, down the slope the men followed, single file, until they had covered nearly half the distance; then Herb felt a touch on the arm. Dave McGuire saluted and whispered:

"Have a notion that—ah—these fellows are expecting we shall undertake something like this and—all—are going to lay for us. Maybe we might divide up, go two ways—ah—and get the drop—ah—on them, as they-ah—say, corporal."

"I have already planned for that; but thanks, old man. We'll do that very thing."

One group of four went a little to the right of the fallen tree and sought places of hiding; the other two, with Herbert, went to the left and found an old shell pit into which they all crawled. The instructions from the lieutenant had been for all to pull some grass and leaves to partly camouflage themselves.

The wisdom of this was shown not half an hour later when a low-flying airplane suddenly rose, sailed over the spot and threw a rather uncertain searchlight upon the slope, surely not detecting one of the hidden Americans.

The gun in the pit did not fire a shot at the flying-machine. The enemy might have been suspicious of that, though they must have believed that the birdman offered too uncertain a mark on which to waste shells in the dark, and then the flier's report gave them an assurance of safety.

The boys lay waiting long and not too patiently—for who can easily endure such conditions? There was no let-up to the cold rain, which after a time became half sleet. Lying on the cold, soggy ground, chilled and uncomfortable, the boys after a time grew restive. Roy, with the four on one side, cautioned silence. Herbert wondered how the fastidious McGuire was putting up with all this. Then, suddenly:

"Hist!" from one side. "Hist!" came from the other and at once the silence was more impressive than death itself. For, perhaps, as they all thought, death might soon follow.

Up the slope beyond and slowly approaching came the sound of many heavily-shod feet, and dark figures began to loom in the blackness, coming straight for the tree.

The American youngsters lay ready as pumas to spring amongst fat deer; they hardly breathed, the tense situation holding every man to the duty expected of him and in which he now gloried, eager to act.

More and more gray figures came dimly into view until, around the fallen tree, nearly a score of men stood silently, only one of them occasionally uttering an exclamation, or a word or two. Herb knew that Ben Gardner, once a buyer of toys in Europe, spoke German fluently and he had kept Ben beside him for a purpose. Asking him afterward what remarks the leader of the Germans had made, Gardner explained:

"Well, first he asked: 'Where is he?' and then: 'How can I believe it?' and once he said: 'Where could the American have been to kill him with the first shot?' When they explained this to him he only grunted about ten times. It must have been a stumper."

But in Corporal Whitcomb's mind was a more engrossing question than any normal actions of the Germans could have further created. Greatly outnumbered, was he to give the signal to act on the offensive, or to let the chance go by and run no risks?

Had he known then that a German division commander, a general of note, had been examining the trench at length and hearing of the death of Godfrey Schmaltz, once big game hunter and one of the best shots in all the Fatherland, had risked the chance to come now and inspect the place and manner of the great marksman's defeat, the young corporal would have hesitated not at all and have risked everything. But now he seemed disposed to wait too long. Gardner, however, must have guessed the situation more clearly. He nudged Herbert and whispered:

"Big gun, I believe! Better get him! Now's our chance!"

And Herb, his mind suddenly set to the task, gave the signal—the flash of an electric handlight into the mist.

The seven were all on their feet in an instant and advancing upon the enemy. At the same moment Gardner shouted in the German tongue:

"Hands up, or death to all instantly! You are our prisoners!"

Herbert called to Roy and Martin Gaul, who were nearest, to quickly disarm the Huns; and the way the few guns were snatched from the men and tossed aside must have much surprised them. One big fellow struck at Roy, and the man got a blow in the face which staggered him.

There was an attempt at a scurry among the German officers when the ambush was sprung and the order given them. It was a palpable effort to shield or to effect the escape of one of their number, the general.

Dave McGuire saw this, having come around on that side in the movement to surround the huddled enemy, and he acted with the speed of a hawk. Shoving his pistol into the face of the nearest Boche, the young fellow began lisping some words in English which were probably poorly understood, if at all, but he did not get very far with his speech.

Dave's arm was knocked aside and a Hun officer leveled a pistol at him, fully getting the drop on him. By all rules of the game, this was a signal for surrender on Dave's part, but Dave wasn't abiding by any rules just then. The Hun officer suddenly felt in the pit of his stomach a boot that had the force of a Missouri mule back of it and when he rose from the mire he found himself a prisoner.

Dave made the others believe, seeing their companion fall and the American's pistol again threatening them, that there was nothing left them but to accept the situation; and though the general, much to his credit for pluck, made another attempt to get away, he also got Dave's foot with equal force, but on the shin, and he couldn't have run then to save his life.

Meanwhile all of the other six had performed quite admirably and impressed upon the German officers and men the fact that they were at the mercy of the Americans.

"Tell them to keep mighty quiet, Gardner," Herbert ordered, and this also was conveyed to them in words the prisoners clearly understood. "And to head up the hill and step lively," the corporal added.

They headed up and stepped. Two lagged a little, but one of the Regulars, Murphy, prodded those grumbling Huns with his brawny fist and they fell in with the others. As though by previous drill, the captors arranged themselves about the prisoners with instant comprehension of the entire situation. Ready to pour in a murderous fire with the first movement in an attempt to escape, and believing that such an attempt might be made at any moment, two of the squad marched to the right and two to the left of the captured Germans, while Herbert and Donaldson followed in the rear and Gardner led the way, walking backward up the slope, now and then urging the captives to step along quickly.

They had covered two-thirds of the distance to the gun pit when one of the general's aides or staff suddenly gave a low order, and turned and rushed boldly upon the nearest American. Half the number of Germans, with something like a roar, followed his example in what, against a less determined resistance must have been a successful break-away for most of them.

But half a dozen revolvers barked and just as many Teutons went to the ground, two never to rise again by their own efforts, for the distance was short and the American boys were ready. The Huns fell back again into a bunch, the general unwounded.

And then out came the raiders. The firing proved a signal and they knew that their commander was in danger. From the German trench the soldiers climbed; and though they could not be seen, the rapid commands, the rattle of fixing bayonets, the tramp of hasty feet were very audible. Herbert listened for a second and then shouted:

"Never mind picking up those fellows, but get the rest up to the pit! Rush 'em now; rush 'em! Flynn," he called, "go for the pit like the Old Scratch was after you, and tell Lieutenant Jackson the enemy's out and coming!"

Just then the entire bunch of captors and captives found themselves in what was equal to the glare of day; a searchlight from the German trench had found them.

The sharp roar of the American gun in the pit jarred the earth, and instantly the darkness was over everything again. The Yankee artillery-men had found the searchlight and with the first shot.

But that moment of white light had shown some morose, ugly, hate-bearing faces and booted figures huddled in a group, and on the ground some lying prone, others in a sitting posture, while about them stood a number of grim fellows, with pistols in hand. And the light had shown on the hill Roy Flynn going up the grade at a speed that would have done credit to most sprinters on the level. Roy had been the hundred-yards man at Brighton for three terms.

Lieutenant Jackson had his Regulars down the hill into the center of No Man's Land almost before the Germans had all climbed out of their trenches, and when the latter came on in the darkness they were received with such a withering fire that the survivors broke and fled back in a hurry.

"By jingo, corporal, you certainly have done yourself and all of us proud!" was Lieutenant Jackson's remark to Herbert a half hour later when the prisoners had been questioned, disposed of and a guard set over them, and in their warm dugout shelter the squad of snipers were gathered about the trench stove.

"All you fellows," he went on, "ought to be promoted for this night's work; that's a fact. I don't want to take a bit of the glory away from you; I want you to make out and send in with mine a complete report of your work in capturing these——"

"I'll be perfectly content to have you do it all, Lieutenant," Herbert replied.

"But I won't. You can write better than I can. When they hear you've snared this big chump, General What's-his-name, they'll tumble over themselves to get you a commission. You deserve it. We're all finding out what the Johnny Bulls tell us: the non-coms and the subs have about as much to do with this scrap as the generals and colonels."