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Brighton Boys in the Radio Service, The

<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> <h3>Tapping the Enemy's Wire</h3> The following morning all of those who had arrived on the transports were established in a concentration camp, but it was merely for the purpose of inspection of men and equipment, and was not to be for long. It was that same day that the three boys from Brighton were for the first time assigned to a regular unit of the Signal Corps. Also, with a real thrill, they learned that they were almost immediately to see war service, for American troops were already in the trenches. It was a happy circumstance for the three lads that they had had such close association with Lieutenant Mackinson, for, without question, he already had gained an enviable reputation, and when he was ordered to emergency service, and told he might choose the five men who were to be under his direction, his three assistants on the trip across were the first ones named. The other two were Tom Rawle, a fellow proportioned like their first friend in the service, Sergeant Martin, and a wiry, energetic, quick-speaking youth named Frank Hoskins. "We have a long trip before us," Lieutenant Mackinson informed them, "and we leave here on a special train in two hours. In a short time we will be in the thick of it." It was joyous information for the five, and they set about their few preparations with a zest only experienced by boys knowing they have important work to do, and feeling capable of doing it well. "How long have you been over?" Joe asked of Tom Rawle. "Got here two weeks ago," the big fellow answered. "But I haven't had any real service yet. I was assigned once to Cambrai, but before I reached there a big drive was under way, the Germans were being pushed back, and the detachment to which I had been assigned was so far forward that my orders were changed and I was sent back here." "Did you get within sound of the big guns?" asked Slim excitedly. "I should say so," answered Tom Rawle. "And so will you within a few hours. Isn't that so, Hoskins?" "Yes," answered Frank, "and when you do you'll get a new idea of the fighting qualities of the French and Americans, going shoulder to shoulder against the Boches." "Hoskins knows," explained Rawle, "for he got nearer than I did." "Only for a short time," Frank corrected modestly, "but they called it my 'baptism of fire.' I was out one night with an advance party. We were nearly ambushed, and had to beat a quick retreat." "Well, tell them all about it," demanded Tom Rawle, impatient at Frank's unwillingness to talk much about himself. "Oh, they fired on us from a distance of about a hundred yards," the other lad admitted, "and it was a surprise party for fair, I can tell you. When bullets begin singing around your head for the first time, and especially when they come without any warning from the enemy, or any expectation on your part, it does give you rather a peculiar sort of feeling. "They got one of the fellows in our party with a bullet in the arm, then we all dropped on our stomachs and wriggled our way back into our own lines without any further damage. But we did some rapid wriggling, you can bet. There wasn't any time wasted by any of us, and inasmuch as we were apparently outnumbered, we did not fire back, for fear of giving them an exact range of our whereabouts. "After that I was sent back along the rear lines on an inspection trip which brought me all the way to this point, where I was held for the formation of this unit." "Say, that must be thrilling—to be a member of an advance party like that," said Jerry, his enthusiasm as fiery as his hair. "I wonder if we'll get any work like that?" "You sure will," responded Rawle, "and plenty of it. You needn't worry on that score." At that moment Lieutenant Mackinson arrived to inquire if all their preparations had been made, and if they were ready to board the special. "All ready," they answered, and the lieutenant led the way to the train. They found several others already aboard, who were to make at least a part of the trip with them. There were half a dozen men who had been slightly wounded in the trenches, and now, completely well, were returning to their regiments. Also, there was a wire company of the Signal Corps, which was going to join another American unit. For the first three or four hours of the trip the lads, even including Hoskins and Rawle, found the returning young veterans the center of all interest, and from them they heard many serious and amusing stories, many true tales of the attack and retreat, of shot and shell and shrapnel and the hand grenade and the poisonous gas bombs thrown by the Boches. And then, one by one, the soldiers of Uncle Sam dropped off into long and restful slumber—slumber that was to fit them for hard and difficult duties ahead. "This is where we get off," finally announced Lieutenant Mackinson, shaking the lads into wakefulness. "We leave the train here and travel the balance of the distance by automobile." Never had the boys seen such a powerful looking car as that to which an orderly led them. Without the waste of a moment they climbed in—Lieutenant Mackinson, our three friends, young Hoskins and the towering Rawle. In another instant they were speeding across the country with the break of dawn. But their trip now was far different from the one they had had across England. Where, in that country, they had seen big concentration camps, and men preparing for war, with an occasional evidence of war's effects in a building wrecked by a night air raid, here, in the eastern part of France, they came upon actual war in all its fateful progress, with whole towns demolished, forests and orchards blotted out—stark ruin written over the face of the earth. With a clear right-of-way, their high-power machine swept past ammunition and food trains—long strings of powerful motor trucks driving toward the scene of action. They came upon towns and villages in that area known as "behind the lines," where French, American, Belgian and British soldiers were recuperating after hard days and nights in the front-line trenches. By this time they were well within sound of the heavy guns, and their driver told them that the artillery duel then going on had been in progress for forty-eight hours at least. "Sometimes it lasts for a week or more, you know," he said, "in preparation for a great infantry advance. But I understand that this time they expect to go forward before the end of to-day." "Which, means," added Lieutenant Mackinson, "that we probably will get a chance to get right into the thick of it." On and on they went, and nearer and nearer to the scene of actual battle they came. They passed the third-line trenches, and now, in places, they seemed to be in a straight line with some of the concealed artillery that was pounding away at the enemy in terrible detonations that shook and rocked the ground every minute. At the second-line trenches their orders called for a halt. They did not have to be told that there was "something doing." The road, so far as the eye could reach backward over the route they had traveled, was a constantly moving line of motor trucks, coming forward with men and shells, while out ahead of them, tremendous and menacing, big tanks—the biggest things the boys ever had seen propelled on wheels or tractors—were pursuing their uneven course toward the front, in preparation for a new kind of assault. "They look like miniature battleships on land, don't they?" exclaimed Slim. The others agreed that it was about the best description that could be given of these massive fighting machines, equipped with guns and men, that could travel with their own power practically anywhere, across shell holes, over trenches, through barbed wire—the most human piece of war mechanism that had yet made its appearance on the battlefield. Summons to a long-delayed meal gave a welcome interruption to their guesses as to just what their first duties would be, and they had scarcely finished their substantial rations of food when an orderly informed Lieutenant Mackinson that he was to report at once to the field headquarters. "Await me here," he said to the five men under his immediate command. "I probably will be only a short time." And, indeed, it seemed to them that he had hardly time to reach the headquarters when he was seen returning hurriedly. He gave some hasty instructions to the chauffeur, and the latter immediately began a quick examination of his engine and tires, which promised another early move. "We go forward as far as we can by automobile again," the lieutenant informed them, "and after dark to-night we are to establish an outlying communication from the farthest skirmish points to headquarters." Almost as he finished the sentence, they were started, but now their progress frequently was impeded, and occasionally a shell broke so close to them as to jar the machine from its course. None of the men in the rear seats of that car were cowards, but, aside from Hoskins, it was their first experience under actual fire, and they marveled at the coolness of the driver, who seemed not to mind at all the dangerous quarters they were in. When they climbed out of the machine, half an hour later, Joe remarked upon it in tones of open admiration. "It's nothing," the youthful chauffeur replied. "You'll get used to it, too." As he turned the automobile and started backward, Slim suddenly remembered that they hadn't even heard his name. "Don't know it," said Hoskins, "but he was wounded twice in the trenches, I heard while we were waiting for the lieutenant. That's why he's driving a car now. He has seen enough service to know that nervousness doesn't help." They had been directed to the quarters of Major Jones, in charge of the Signal Corps men in that section, and it was with considerable surprise that the boys learned, upon arriving there, that they were to accompany the lieutenant into the superior officer's presence for instructions. He was a man, they found, about forty years old, already grizzled and hardened by his field experience. And he knew how to convey orders and transact business without a moment's delay. "You are to follow the red-ink lines on this map," he told Lieutenant Mackinson, as they all leaned over his desk to follow the tracing of his pencil, with which he showed them the course they were to take. "When you have reached this point"—indicating a heavy spot about midway of the map—"you will seek a suitable location from which to establish communications. You will determine whether it can be done by wireless. As soon as you can do so, report what progress you have made. Use every caution, for you will be in the country occupied by the enemy. You should leave here about seven o'clock this evening. It is now six." Fifteen minutes later they had examined their arms and equipped themselves with a full supply of small-arms ammunition, portable wireless instrument and antennæ, and three rations each of eating chocolate. The latter article is dispensed to every soldier in the American armies just prior to an engagement in which he may become separated from his unit or companions, and, if wounded, might otherwise starve to death. The remaining three-quarters of an hour they spent in close study of the map that Major Jones had given them, and promptly at seven o'clock they started upon the dangerous mission. With nightfall the big cannonading had noticeably shut down, but to the south of them artillery firing still could be heard distinctly. It was a black night and they proceeded with the greatest caution. They did not dare use the flashlights that each of them carried, and frequently all of them would have to drop suddenly flat upon the ground as a big rocket went up from either side, lighting the whole section for trace of skirmishing parties. In this way they went forward, yard by yard, until they reached a thick clump of trees. There, after listening intently for several minutes without hearing a dangerous sound, they spread out their coats, tent-like, while Lieutenant Mackinson, with gingerly flashes of his light, examined the map again, to make certain of their location. They had hardly progressed a hundred feet further when the unlucky Slim tripped and went sprawling on the ground with a pained but suppressed grunt. "Sh-h-h-h!" warned Lieutenant Mackinson in a whisper, while Tom Rawle, quietly chuckling at the fat lad's misfortune, aided him to his feet. "Down flat!" said Mackinson again, as he discerned several shadows moving across a space a considerable distance to the north of them. For fully ten minutes, which seemed like an hour, they lay there, not daring to move. They watched the enemy scouting party get a like scare, and then, after what seemed to be a whispered consultation, turn back to the German lines. "What did you fall over?" the lieutenant finally asked of Slim, in a scarcely audible tone. "I just found it," replied Slim. "It's a wire. Here, let me have your hand." And he guided the lieutenant's fingers to that which had been the cause of his downfall. "Copper!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "Hoskins, let me have that kit." And without the aid of a light he extracted from the leather case which Hoskins gave him a very small telegraph instrument. The instant it was attached to the wire the receiver began to tick irregularly. Neither Rawle nor Hoskins understood German, but to the others they were words easy to translate. They had accidentally struck an enemy wire and had tapped it! That part of the message which they had intercepted read: <div class="blockquot">"—lead enemy to believe whole attack centered from your position, but main assault will be a flank move around Hill 20" </div> At that instant a fusillade of bullets cut the ground all about them, and the six men suddenly realized that they were under a pitiless and well-directed machine-gun fire. <hr class="major" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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