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Dave Porter's war honors

Chapter 11: CHAPTER IX IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT
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About This Book

The narrative follows an American army engineer who serves with a combat engineering unit on the battlefields of France, facing gas attacks, artillery barrages, and hazardous road- and trench-building under fire. Episodes include aerial combats, encounters with enemy aviators and machine-gun nests, rescue and medical scenes, capture and attempted escape, and actions that earn him recognition with a Distinguished Service Medal and promotion. Interwoven are comradeship, practical engineering challenges, and personal courage amid chaotic operations, culminating in a final engagement that resolves his military arc.

CHAPTER IX
IN THE THICK OF THE FIGHT

Help! Help! I’m being smothered!”

“Somebody take this tree off my legs!”

“Some smash-up, wasn’t it? I wonder if anybody was killed?”

These and other cries came from all directions. Some of the exclamations were considerably smothered because those uttering them were buried almost out of sight by the trees and other debris that had come down on top of them.

“I say, Dave, are you hurt?” cried Phil. He was a few feet away from our hero, and fortunately he was free to move about, even though his face had been scratched by a branch which had come down close to his head.

“I—I don’t know if I am hu—hurt or not,” gasped the young sergeant. “I ca—can’t move!”

“And I’m in the same pickle, with this tree holding down my legs,” returned Roger.

It was at this instant that the shrill whistle came from a distance—a whistle all the fighting engineers knew only too well.

“A gas attack! A gas attack!” was the cry which rent the air. “On with your masks, boys!”

Dave heard the cry, and immediately tried to make a move to get hold of his mask and adjust it. But the tree branch held him down in such a fashion that this was impossible. Roger was more fortunate, and even though his legs were held down he managed to twist his body over on one side and get his mask into position.

“Can you make it, Dave?” questioned Phil, who now had his mask ready to slip on.

“No. I can’t straighten up enough,” answered our hero.

“I’ll see if I can’t get the limb out of the way,” went on Phil; and then called to Ben and Shadow, who, fortunately, were as free as himself to move about, to assist him.

The three slipped on their masks, and then under the directions of Phil went to work to raise the branch that was holding Dave down. By their united efforts they managed to get it up just enough to enable our hero to crawl from under. As soon as this was accomplished Dave lost no time in putting on his mask.

Even with the united efforts of the four young engineers, it was impossible to raise the limb which held down Roger’s legs. So two axes were brought forward, and while some held up the limb so that it might not injure the fallen one’s legs, Dave and Phil chopped the branch almost through, so that it was then cast aside with ease and the senator’s son was able to stand up.

By this time all the other engineers had gotten word concerning the mishap and were flocking to that vicinity to aid their comrades. Three men were still under the wreckage, and it was not without great difficulty that these were released. One poor fellow had his shoulder badly bruised and had to be sent to the hospital.

Shadow had one hand much scratched, and both of his shins scraped, and he, too, had to be sent to the rear to receive medical attention.

Long before the rescues came to an end the gas was on the engineers. It rolled toward them in a thin yellowish cloud. But fortunately the wind was coming up strongly, and this soon dissipated the gas so that it did little damage.

“I think we came out of that disaster remarkably well,” was Captain Obray’s comment, after he had made a survey of the damage wrought by the two German shells.

“It’s a wonder to me that all of you weren’t killed,” remarked Frank Andrews. “Just look at the holes those two shells made behind where the trees stood.”

So far Dave had been so interested in what had occurred to himself and his companions that he had not looked at the spot. Now he walked to that vicinity, and his eyes opened widely when he beheld the two shell craters. One was all of twenty feet in diameter and probably fifteen feet deep in the center, while the other crater, through some freak of nature, was shaped like a trench, ten feet wide and about as deep and nearly three times as long.

“Those must have been some of the largest of the Hun shells,” was Phil’s opinion. “Gee! when those holes fill with water there will be a regular pond here.”

“The Heinies couldn’t have made a neater job of it, try their best, if they were aiming to block this roadway,” said Ben. “It’s going to be a job to clear the way again.”

“That isn’t the worst of it, Ben,” returned Dave. “Now that they have got our range they may be sending more shells this way.”

It was fortunate that the shock of the explosions had come just as the day’s work was drawing to a close. After so much excitement nobody felt like going to work again, and the young engineers were glad enough to seek their shelter, there to care for their hurts and to rest until supper was announced.

It must be admitted that some of the engineers were a trifle nervous when operations were resumed the following morning. But the bombardment on both sides had ceased, and everything throughout the forest was as quiet as it had formerly been. The work of clearing the roadway was started without delay, and this having been completed, the gang under Dave was sent forward for a full quarter of a mile. Here there was a small ravine, and the engineers were instructed to bridge it in a rough but substantial manner, so that some field artillery would be able to cross without danger.

“This is what I call bridge-building with a vengeance,” remarked Ben, when the task was in progress. “I wonder what the folks at home would say if we threw such a structure as this across Dixon’s gully or the brook back of Henderson’s apple orchard?”

“Well, they’d have to give us credit for building something substantial if not ornamental, Ben,” answered Dave, with a grin. “When we get through with it, a herd of elephants could use it without fear of a collapse.”

“And just think of building it in two days!” exclaimed Phil. “Why, ordinarily it would take local bridge-builders two or three weeks to put up such a thing as this.”

“Certainly, in war, speed is what counts,” answered our hero.

At the time appointed a road through the forest, with three bridges spanning as many gullies, was completed. And then one night, following a heavy bombardment and a barrage fire, the American forces moved forward.

This brought on a battle which lasted the best part of a day and a half. There were attacks and counter-attacks, and the din of the light and heavy field-pieces was terrific. The Germans did everything possible to shove the Americans and the French back, but in the end had to give way, and when the battle finally subsided the Allied forces had made an advance of from four to six miles on a front twenty-two miles long, and captured three villages.

“How is that for fighting?” cried Dave enthusiastically, when the news of the advance was confirmed. “We’ll show them yet what it means to bring Uncle Sam into this war.”

“That’s what we will!” returned Roger.

“If only we could rush them right along to the Rhine!” came from Phil.

It must not be supposed that the engineers were idle while this great battle was going on. They were called upon to repair two of the bridges, both of which were partly demolished by German shell-fire, and then they were sent to the front once more to lay out a new line of trenches. This was perilous work in the extreme.

“We’re going under fire again, men,” announced Captain Obray, when the command came to go to the front.

This meant that each engineer must carry his rifle as well as the entrenching tools assigned to him. Along with the load on his back this was a weight of eighty to ninety pounds per man, certainly something of a load to carry over rough roads and through a tangle of underbrush and loose and jagged rocks. More than one man grew exhausted, and had to either rest up or be carried to the rear.

“Here is where sheer bone and muscle count,” was Dave’s comment, as he ploughed forward through some underbrush with the detail under him. It was a warm summer day, and all the engineers were perspiring freely.

“I wish we had had this to do last winter when it was colder,” remarked Ben.

“Oh, for some ice cream soda!” sighed Roger.

“Say, that puts me in mind of a story,” cried Shadow. “A small boy came to his mother in the winter time with a big idea. He had six snowballs in his arms, and brought them right into the house. ‘What are you going to do with those snowballs, Bobby?’ asked his mother. ‘I want you to put ’em away in your closet where you keep the jam,’ answered the small boy. ‘What do you want to do that for?’ ‘Oh,’ said the small boy, ‘I want you to keep ’em until next summer for me, and then when I can’t have any ice cream I’ll go and get a snowball.’” And at this joke there was a slight smile.

“There is only one good thing about that joke, Shadow,” remarked Dave. “It makes a fellow think of winter, and believe me it’s a good thing to think of ice and snow when the thermometer is up in the nineties as it is to-day.”

Presently came the command to halt, and then the young engineers were instructed to crawl forward with caution to a line already mapped out by Frank Andrews and several of the experienced linemen under him. As soon as the line was gained the engineers must lose no time in digging themselves in, so that no stray bullets from the German trenches might catch them.

Dave had been in such a position before, so there was nothing in the way of novelty about it. He well knew the peril of the work, and he cautioned all under him to be careful in exposing themselves.

“Those Germans are as mad as hornets for being driven back,” he remarked; “and they would more than glory in it to lay out some of our fellows. And remember, while you are working I want all of you to have your guns handy, so that if they show themselves or try to reach us we can give a good account of ourselves.”

“I’d just like a little fighting,” rejoined Roger.

The wish of the senator’s son was gratified sooner than any of them expected. They had reached the line and were busy digging themselves into temporary quarters, when, with no warning whatever, came a volley of shots from a patch of woods some distance ahead.

At the time the volley was delivered the last gang of the engineers, led by a Lieutenant Harney, was coming up. The lieutenant was in the lead, and as the volley rang out he was seen to throw up his hands and pitch headlong. The others of the detail dropped down in the grass, one wounded in the shoulder and another in the side. The lieutenant had been struck squarely in the forehead, and was no doubt instantly killed.

“They are coming this way! The Heinies are coming this way!”

The report proved true. Encouraged by the success of their first volley, a company of German soldiers came crawling forward through the thick brushwood, sending volley after volley in the direction of the engineers.

“We’ve got to fight them, boys!” shouted Captain Obray. “Make every shot tell!”

He had hardly spoken two words before several of the engineers began to use their guns. Then the others caught up their weapons, and a scattering of shots could be heard all along the line of the proposed new trench.

The first company of Germans was quickly followed by a second, and then a third, aggregating probably four hundred and fifty men. The engineers numbered about three hundred and sixty, a considerable number being missing from the battalion because of wounds, sickness, and various other reasons.

It was an unequal contest, but the blood of the fighting engineers was up, especially when they saw the death of Lieutenant Harney, who was popular in the command.

Rapid orders came from the major of the battalion, and Captain Obray told those under him to move somewhat to the left, where a slight rise of ground afforded a little better shelter. In the meantime, word was sent back by the signal corps operating in that vicinity that the Germans were making an attack on the engineers, and asking for reinforcements.

In another five minutes the contest was on in all its intensity. Volley after volley came from the Germans, who were attempting to advance by crawling from rock to rock and from bush to bush. But the fighting engineers sent over bullet for bullet and had the satisfaction of seeing more than one of the enemy drop to rise no more.

“Gee! this is the hottest fight yet!” gasped Phil, after the firing had continued for ten or fifteen minutes.

“If we only had a machine-gun handy we might do something,” answered Dave.

It was now seen that several additional German companies were rushing to the scene of the conflict. Evidently the enemy was massing with the idea of breaking through on that part of the front.

“If we can only hold out until we get reinforcements!” said Dave.

“We’ve got to hold our ground, boys!” shouted Captain Obray. “Don’t give in an inch! We’ll have help here before long! Make every shot count! Show those Huns what you are made of!”

A cheer went up at these words—a cheer which was almost drowned out by a volley of shots from the German company which had just come up on the double-quick. Then a great yell arose from the enemy line, and a few minutes later they leaped up and, firing as they ran, made straight for the American engineers.