It was reserved for one gleeful young American, however, to call out, as his ambulance whizzed by:
"Hullo, buddies! Welcome to our city!"
"If that young man were in the American Army I would feel obliged to try to have him stopped," said Major Wells good-humoredly.
"That was not the real American form of salutation to officers, but I know the youngster felt genuinely glad to see us so close to the front."
"They are a happy lot, perhaps sometimes a trifle too merry,"
said Captain Ribaut half-apologetically. "But they are splendid, these young Americans of yours who drive ambulances for us. They never know the meaning of fear, and after a great battle they are devotion itself to duty. They will drive as long as they can sit and hold the wheel. There would have been many more aching hearts in France to-day had it not been for the fine young Americans who came over here with American cars to help us look after our wounded!"
Presently the party entered the car again. Every mile that they covered took them closer to the Inferno of sh.e.l.l-fire. More ambulance cars whizzed by.
Then the visitors" car drew up before an unpretentious looking house just off the main road.
"If you will come inside," invited Captain Ribaut, "I know that our general of division will be delighted to meet you."
CHAPTER XIV
THE THRILL OF THE FIRE TRENCH
Pa.s.sing the two sentries at the front door the officers found themselves in a small ante-room.
Excusing himself, Captain Ribaut left the Americans briefly, but was speedily back.
"General Bazain is most eager to meet you, and has the leisure at this moment," the Frenchman announced.
He led his guests through the adjoining room, where half a dozen younger French officers rose hastily, standing at salute. Then on into a third room, just over the sill of which Captain Ribaut halted, bringing his heels quickly together as he called out:
"General Bazain, I have the honor to present to you four American officers, Major-----"
And so on, through the list of names. The French divisional commander bowed courteously four separate times, taking each American officer by the hand with both his own, and finding something wholly courteous to say. He spoke in French, a tongue that only Major Wells and Captain Prescott understood well.
"My division is greatly honored, _Messieurs les Officers_," General Bazain continued when he had seen to the seating of his callers and had resumed his own chair behind a desk on which were spread many maps and doc.u.ments.
"You have been having a smart fight this afternoon, sir?" inquired Major Wells.
"Ah, yes, for some reason, the Huns have been trying to break through my division this afternoon, but they have not yet succeeded, nor will they," General Bazain added, his eyes flashing grimly.
He was a little man, short and thin, his hair well sprinkled with gray. He looked like one whom more than three years of war had borne down with cares, yet his eyes were bright and his shoulders squared splendidly whenever he stood.
"Here is a map of the divisional front, gentlemen, if you care to draw your chairs closer and look it over," proposed the general.
"This shows not only our lines, but as much as we know of the enemy lines facing us. And I believe," he added, with another flash of pride, "that we know all there is to know of their lines for a kilometer back, except whatever may have been added since dark yesterday. We-----"
He was interrupted by an explosion that shook the house. It sounded over their heads on the floor above.
"We have excellent air service at this point," General Bazain went on, his attention not wavering from the map. "And at this point, as you will see, we have five lines of trenches, one behind another, instead of three. It would take the Hun an uncommonly long time to drive my brave fellows back out of our five lines of trenches."
There followed a rapid description of the work of the division on that sector during the last four months. The two present first lines of trench had been taken from the Germans. Plans were now under way to stage a series of a.s.saults which, it was hoped, would drive the Huns out of their three present first lines of trench and add them to the French system.
An officer wearing the emblem of the French medical service opened the door and glanced in.
"My general, you were not hurt by that bomb?" he cried anxiously.
"I had forgotten it," replied the French divisional commander.
"What was it?"
"A Hun airman dropped a bomb on the roof. It blew a hole in the roof and worked some damage in your bedroom overhead."
"It does not matter," said General Bazain simply.
Bang! bang! smashed overhead.
"It must be the same rascal, returning in his flight!" cried the medical officer, darting out into the yard to look up at the sky.
A moment later anti-aircraft guns began to bark. Two minutes after the medical officer again looked into the room.
"We are fortunate to-day, my general!" cried the doctor. "That scoundrel will not bother you again. One of our shots wrecked his plane and brought the Hun down---dead."
Evidently, however, that airman of the enemy had given the location and range of division headquarters, for now a sh.e.l.l from a German battery struck and exploded in the yard outside, killing a sentry and wounding two orderlies. A second and a third sh.e.l.l followed.
A fourth sh.e.l.l tore away the corner of the house without injuring any one.
"Your orders, my general, in case our observers can locate the Hun battery?" asked a staff officer, coming in from the next room and resting a hand on a telephone instrument.
"If the enemy battery can be located," replied General Bazain, "let it be destroyed."
Rapidly the staff officer sent his message to the artillery post of command.
"But surely you will go to a shelter?" asked the staff officer, laying down the instrument when he had finished.
"It will be inconvenient," sighed the division commander. "The light here is much better."
Yet General Bazain permitted himself to be persuaded to remove from this now highly dangerous spot. As he and his staff, accompanied by the visitors, stepped outside another sh.e.l.l exploded close at hand, fortunately without doing harm.
Descending to the cellar of a wrecked house near by, in the wake of their hosts, the Americans found the entrance to steps, cut in the earth, leading to a secure shelter on a level much below that of the cellar. Here were two rooms underground, both equipped with desks, lights, chairs, telephones and all that was needed for communicating with the ranking officers of the division at their posts in the trenches.
"It is stupid to have to work under candlelight in the daytime,"
sighed the division commander. "However, Major Wells, as I was explaining to you-----"
Here recourse was again had to the maps, which the officers of the staff had brought along.
Before dark supper was served at division headquarters in this dug-out reached through the cellar of a ruined house.
"If it were not that I expect an attack tonight, and must be at my post, it would give me delight to go with you and show you our trenches," said the division commander at parting.
Private Berger had been summoned to lead the party through the intricate system of communication trenches to the front. Berger, who was a short, squat fellow with a sallow face and uneasy black eyes, took his seat beside the soldier chauffeur.
For only a little more than a mile the Americans proceeded in the car, which then halted, and all hands stepped out into the dark night.