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biscuit at noon. They had covered eighteen miles that morning, and had still seven more to go. They were
ordered to do the twenty-five miles in eight hours. Nobody had fallen out yet, but some of the boys looked
pretty well wilted. Nifty Jones said he was done for. Sergeant Hicks was expostulating with the faint-hearted.
He knew that if one man fell out, a dozen would.
"If I can do it, you can. It's worse on a fat man like me. This is no march to make a fuss about. Why, at Arras I
talked with a little Tommy from one of those Pal Battalions that got slaughtered on the Somme. His battalion
marched twenty-five miles in six hours, in the heat of July, into certain death. They were all kids out of
school, not a man of them over five-foot-three, called them the 'Bantams.' You've got to hand it to them,
fellows."
"I'll hand anything to anybody, but I can't go no farther on these," Jones muttered, nursing his sore feet.
One of Ours 178
"Oh, you! We're going to heave you onto the only horse in the Company. The officers, they can walk!"
When they got into Battalion lines there was food ready for them, but very few wanted it. They drank and lay
down in the bushes. Claude went at once to Headquarters and found Barclay Owens, of the Engineers, with
the Colonel, who was smoking and studying his maps as usual.
"Glad to see you, Wheeler. Your men ought to be in good shape, after a week's rest. Let them sleep now.
We've got to move out of here before midnight, to relieve two Texas battalions at Moltke trench. They've
taken the trench with heavy casualties and are beat out; couldn't hold it in case of counter-attack. As it's an
important point, the enemy will try to recover it. I want to get into position before daylight, so he won't know
fresh troops are coming in. As ranking officer, you are in charge of the Company."
"Very well, sir. I'll do my best."
"I'm sure you will. Two machine gun teams are going up with us, and some time tomorrow a Missouri
battalion comes up to support. I'd have had you over here before, but I only got my orders to relieve yesterday.
We may have to advance under shell fire. The enemy has been putting a lot of big stuff over; he wants to cut
off that trench."
Claude and David got into a fresh shell hole, under the half-burned scrub, and fell asleep. They were
awakened at dusk by heavy artillery fire from the north.
At ten o'clock the Battalion, after a hot meal, began to advance through almost impassable country. The guns
must have been pounding away at the same range for a long while; the ground was worked and kneaded until
it was soft as dough, though no rain had fallen for a week. Barclay Owens and his engineers were throwing
down a plank road to get food and the ammunition wagons across. Big shells were coming over at intervals of
twelve minutes. The intervals were so regular that it was quite possible to get forward without damage. While
B Company was pulling through the shell area, Colonel Scott overtook them, on foot, his orderly leading his
horse.
"Know anything about that light over there, Wheeler?" he asked. "Well, it oughtn't to be there. Come along
and see."
The light was a mere match-head down in the ground, Claude hadn't noticed it before. He followed the
Colonel, and when they reached the spark they found three officers of A Company crouching in a shell crater,
covered with a piece of sheet-iron.
"Put out that light," called the Colonel sharply. "What's the matter, Captain Brace?"
A young man rose quickly. "I'm waiting for the water, sir. It's coming up on mules, in petrol cases, and I don't
want to get separated from it. The ground's so bad here the drivers are likely to get lost."
"Don't wait more than twenty minutes. You must get up and take your position on time, that's the important
thing, water or no water."
As the Colonel and Claude hurried back to overtake the Company, five big shells screamed over them in rapid
succession. "Run, sir," the orderly called. "They're getting on to us; they've shortened the range."
"That light back there was just enough to give them an idea," the Colonel muttered.
The bad ground continued for about a mile, and then the advance reached Headquarters, behind the eighth
trench of the great system of trenches. It was an old farmhouse which the Germans had made over with
One of Ours 179
reinforced concrete, lining it within and without, until the walls were six feet thick and almost shell-proof, like
a pill-box. The Colonel sent his orderly to enquire about A Company. A young Lieutenant came to the door of
the farmhouse.
"A Company is ready to go into position, sir. I brought them up."
"Where is Captain Brace, Lieutenant?"
"He and both our first lieutenants were killed, Colonel. Back in that hole. A shell fell on them not five minutes
after you were talking to them."
"That's bad. Any other damage?"
"Yes, sir. There was a cook wagon struck at the same time; the first one coming along Julius Caesar's new
road. The driver was killed, and we had to shoot the horses. Captain Owens, he near got scalded with the
stew."
The Colonel called in the officers one after another and discussed their positions with them.
"Wheeler," he said when Claude's turn came, "you know your map? You've noticed that sharp loop in the
front trench, in H 2; the Boar's Head, I believe they call it. It's a sort of spear point that reaches out toward the
enemy, and it will be a hot place to hold. If I put your company in there, do you think you can do the Battalion
credit in case of a counter attack?"
Claude said he thought so.
"It's the nastiest bit of the line to hold, and you can tell your men I pay them a compliment when I put them
there."
"All right, sir. They'll appreciate it."
The Colonel bit off the end of a fresh cigar. "They'd better, by thunder! If they give way and let the Hun
bombers in, it will let down the whole line. I'll give you two teams of Georgia machine guns to put in that
point they call the Boar's Snout. When the Missourians come up tomorrow, they'll go in to support you, but
until then you'll have to take care of the loop yourselves. I've got an awful lot of trench to hold, and I can't
spare you any more men."
The Texas men whom the Battalion came up to relieve had been living for sixty hours on their iron rations,
and on what they could pick off the dead Huns. Their supplies had been shelled on the way, and nothing had
got through to them. When the Colonel took Claude and Gerhardt forward to inspect the loop that B Company
was to hold, they found a wallow, more like a dump heap than a trench. The men who had taken the position
were almost too weak to stand. All their officers had been killed, and a sergeant was in command. He
apologized for the condition of the loop.
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