Army Boys marching into Germany

The Army Boys marched on with light hearts and swinging steps in the front rank of their regiment. It was a perfect day, with just enough snap in the crisp air to bring the blood to their cheeks and make marching a delight. There was no more fighting to be done, no batteries to storm, no machine gun nests to be rooted out, no more danger of maiming and death.

Despite this, however, there was no lack of military precautions on the part of their officers. Engineers went first to see that bridges were in shape for crossing and to detect and explode hidden mines before the main body of the troops came along. There were also chemical experts to test the water of the wells and see that they were not defiled or poisoned. Such precautions would have been unnecessary for some foes, but the Americans knew with whom they had to deal.

Above the marching columns swayed a number of observation balloons from which the observers were able to see miles ahead of the troops and note how fast the enemy withdrew. Later on, these were joined by a flock of airplanes.

It had been arranged that the Germans should withdraw keeping a certain number of miles ahead of the advancing American troops. For the sake of avoiding any unfortunate clashes, this distance was enough as a rule to keep the opposing forces out of sight of each other, but at times, when the American forces mounted a hill, they could see in the distance a long line of German soldiers wending their way in the direction of the Rhine.

“Not the kind of home trip that they expected to make,” grinned Tom. “They thought that they’d strut into Germany with our scalps hanging to their belts.”

“Don’t worry,” laughed Frank. “I’ll bet right now they’re telling each other that they really licked us. They’re the greatest self-kidders in existence. Their minds are cross-eyed. They never see anything straight. You see if when those fellows reach Germany the people don’t come out to meet them as conquering heroes. It’s a great system. You win when you lose.”

“They remind me of the story of the fellow who boasted that he had kept the other fellow down by firmly inserting his nose between his adversary’s teeth,” chuckled Billy. “But look at these fellows coming along the road in rags. By Jove, they’re Americans too!”

“They’re prisoners, let loose by the Germans!” exclaimed Frank. “And look at their faces! They’re nothing but skin and bones! That’s what the Germans have done to them.”

The poor fellows in question were gathered in at once and given food and medical attention. They had harrowing tales to tell of their experiences in German prison pens, of hunger and brutality and abuse that made the blood of their hearers boil.

“And to think of the way we fattened up the prisoners that were in our hands!” exclaimed Tom bitterly. “When I look at these poor fellows it makes me sorry the war is over. I’d like to get just one more crack at the Huns.”

The men had been turned out without food or sufficient clothing that morning or the day before to find their way back to their lines as best they might. They were met in increasing numbers as the lines advanced and it was lucky for the Germans that the army that looked on these sights did not have the fixing of the terms of the peace treaty in their hands.

They camped that night in a little village from which the Germans had withdrawn only a little while before. The inhabitants were all out in the streets to meet them with tears of joy running down their faces as they welcomed their deliverers. For four years they had been under the harsh and pitiless rule of the invaders, and their joy now bordered on frenzy. They had drawn out from their hiding places the French flags that they had treasured through all that four years of slavery and now they waved from every window.

The band struck up the Star Spangled Banner and every hat was lifted. Then suddenly, at a signal from the leader, the band swung into the Marseillaise. Then the scene beggared description. How long it had been since these French people had heard those glorious strains! How often in those weary years they had despaired of ever hearing them again! From grown men to children, the whole population was sobbing. They grasped the hands of the soldiers and tried to kiss them.

The emotion was contagious, and most of the husky doughboys felt a strange dampness about their eyes.

“Well,” said Frank, when he could trust himself to speak, “just this one thing, if nothing else, would pay me for whatever I’ve done or suffered since I came to France.”

And this experience was paralleled in every French town through which they passed. Everywhere it was the same story of oppression, of robbery, of slavery, of men deported against all the laws of war to toil in German fields or factories, of girls torn from the arms of shrieking mothers and carried off, never to be seen or heard of again, of cruelty just for the sake of cruelty. And now that the Germans had been driven out in ignominy and defeat, these stalwart young Americans who had helped so largely to compass that defeat were looked upon almost in the light of demi-gods. Nothing was too good for them, although the scanty means of the people were pathetically small. Attentions were showered upon them. Little school children stood in rows and shyly held out bouquets of flowers. A hideous nightmare had been lifted from the land.

The plan of the advance called for two days of marching and then two days of rest. Everything moved with military precision and the schedule was strictly maintained. Now and then they saw some Germans in uniform, but these were members of the medical corps who had been left behind, by agreement with the Allies, to take care of such German wounded as could not be moved. At other times, a car would drive up with some group of German officers who found it necessary to consult with the American officers about some matter connected with the fulfilment of the terms of armistice. But in general, that hated field gray uniform was conspicuous by its absence.

Soon the Americans had crossed the French border and reached the province of Luxemburg. Here there was a grand review of the troops. The Grand Duchess of Luxemburg stood on a balcony of the palace in company with General Pershing and received the salutes of the soldiers as they marched past. It was a beautiful city, and the Army Boys were not sorry when they learned that they were to stay there for two days before resuming their march.

“It’ll seem good to get out from a tent and sleep under a roof again,” remarked Frank.

“I’ve rather got fed up with tent life myself,” agreed Billy. “I wonder where they’re going to put us up?”

“I don’t care much,” observed Tom, “provided that the beds are clean and the grub is good.”

On consulting their billet they found that they had been assigned to a house in the suburbs of the town. They had little difficulty in finding it, and were pleased to see that the house was a substantial one, where the food and beds on which Tom had laid stress were likely to be good.

“I wonder if they talk English?” said Frank, as they rang the bell.

“It doesn’t matter much whether they do or not,” replied Tom. “I’m pretty good at the sign language when it comes to getting something to eat. You’ll notice that I didn’t go hungry in Paris.”

The door was opened by a maid, who ushered them into a pleasant and tastefully decorated living room, while she took the billet to her mistress.

While they were waiting for the latter to appear, two young girls passed the living room door. One was a brunette and the other of a blonde type, but both were undeniably pretty. They evidently had not been apprised of the presence of strangers in the house, for when they caught sight of the boys in uniform they seemed slightly startled and hurried up the stairs.

“Peaches!” murmured Tom when they were out of earshot.

“They’re not hard to look at,” agreed Frank carelessly.

“And we’re only going to stay here two days,” mourned Billy. “Hardly time enough to get acquainted. I hope they’re able to talk English.”

“Frank’s got a chance in two languages,” said Tom enviously. “He always was a lucky dog.”

Their chaffing was interrupted by the entrance of their hostess. Frank acted as spokesman of the party and spoke in French, as he thought he would be more likely to be understood. But he was surprised and somewhat disconcerted when the lady told him in perfect English that she did not understand French, and looked appealingly to Tom and Billy. Frank changed at once into his native tongue, with a laughing explanation, and the conversation soon grew easy and unconstrained. Their new hostess stated that her name was Edsall and that she was a widow. Her family consisted of two daughters, Helen and Alice, and her father, who was infirm and advanced in years. The family was American but had been residing abroad for years. She would be glad to make their stay as comfortable as possible.

She called the servant and had them shown to their rooms which they found pleasant and well furnished. They spent an unusual amount of time on brushing up, and it would not have required a very shrewd guess to determine that this special care was not without reference to the two pretty girls whom they knew they were to meet at table.

When they were summoned to supper, they found all the members of the family assembled in the dining room. They were introduced to the girls and to the old father. The latter had a worried look in his sunken eyes, and kept muttering to himself at times in a way that made the boys feel that he was not altogether right in his mind, and this made them think of the missing Bart.

The supper was good and well served, and they were soon chatting pleasantly together. Tom was especially attentive to Alice, the brunette, while Billy devoted himself to her blonde sister, Helen. Frank made himself generally agreeable, chatting with his hostess and occasionally addressing himself to the old man. The latter would arouse himself and make some reply which showed that he had not fully grasped what Frank had been saying. Then he would relapse into his moody muttering, and Frank, for fear of embarrassing him, finally left him to himself.

Suddenly something that Helen was saying to Billy caught Frank’s attention.

“Yes,” she remarked, “when we were living in Coblenz—”

“Coblenz!” ejaculated Billy. “Why that’s in Germany!”

“Certainly,” she replied in some wonderment. “Why, what of it?”

Frank caught a warning look that her mother directed at Helen.