The Boy Allies at Verdun; Or, Saving France from the Enemy

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The Boy Allies At Verdun

OR

Saving France from the Enemy

By CLAIR W. HAYES

AUTHOR OF "The Boy Allies At Liège" "The Boy Allies On the Firing Line"
"The Boy Allies With the Cossacks" "The Boy Allies In the Trenches"
"The Boy Allies On the Somme"

1917

CHAPTER I

THE EVE OF VERDUN

On the twenty-second of February, 1916, an automobile sped northward along the French battle line that for almost two years had held back the armies of the German emperor, strive as they would to win their way farther into the heart of France. For months the opposing forces had battled to a draw from the North Sea to the boundary of Switzerland, until now, as the day waned—it was almost six o'clock—the hands of time drew closer and closer to the hour that was to mark the opening of the most bitter and destructive battle of the war, up to this time.

It was the eve of the battle of Verdun.

The occupants of the automobile as it sped northward numbered three. In the front seat, alone at the driver's wheel, a young man bent low. He was garbed in the uniform of a British lieutenant of cavalry. Close inspection would have revealed the fact that the young man was a youth of some eighteen years, fair and good to look upon. As the machine sped along he kept his eyes glued to the road ahead and did not once turn to join in the conversation of the two occupants on the rear seat. Whether he knew that there was a conversation in progress it is impossible to say, but the rush of wind would have made the conversation unintelligible, to say the least.

This youth on the front seat was Hal Paine, an American.

The two figures in the rear seat were apparently having a hard time to maintain their places, as they bounced from side to side as the car swerved first one way and then the other, or as it took a flying leap over some object in the road, which even the keen eye of the driver had failed to detect. But in spite of this, even as they bounced, they talked.

One of the two figures was tall and slender and there was about him an air of youthfulness. He was in fact a second American boy. His name was Chester Crawford, friend and bosom companion of Hal Paine. Like the latter he, too, was attired in the uniform of a British lieutenant of cavalry.

The second figure in the rear seat was built along different lines. He was short and chunky; also, he was stout. Had he been standing it would have been evident that he was almost as wide as he was long. He had a pleasant face and smiled occasionally, though upon each occasion this smile died away in a sickly grin as the car leaped high in the air after striking a particularly large obstruction in the road, or veering crazily to one side as it turned sharply. In each case the grin was succeeded by a gasp for breath.

The figure was that of Mr. Anthony Stubbs, war correspondent of the New York Gazette, on the firing line in Europe to gather facts for his newspaper. He was attired in a riding suit of khaki.

Said Mr. Stubbs:

"Well, we may get there and we may not."

"Oh, we'll get there all right, Mr. Stubbs!" Chester raised his voice to make himself heard.

"We're likely to land out here in the ditch," was Stubbs' reply. "The way
Hal runs this car, there is no telling what may happen."

"Not frightened, are you, Mr. Stubbs?" asked Chester, grinning.

"Frightened?" echoed Stubbs. "Why should I be frightened? We can't be going more than a couple of hundred miles an hour. No, I'm not frightened. I'm what you call scared. Wow!"

This last ejaculation was drawn from the little man as he was pitched over into Chester's lap by an extra violent lurch of the car. He threw out a hand, seeking a hold, and his open palm came in contact with Chester's face. Chester thrust Stubbs away from him.

"I say, Stubbs!" said the lad half angrily. "If you want to jump out of here, all right; but don't try and push me out ahead of you. Keep your hands out of my face."

"I wasn't trying to push you out," gasped Stubbs. "I was hunting something to hang on to."

"Well, my face is no strap," declared Chester.

The automobile slowed down suddenly and a moment later came to a stop at a fork in the road.

"I'll have to have a look at this chart," Hal called over his shoulder to his companions, as he thrust a hand into a pocket. "Forget which way we head from here."

"We're headed for the happy hunting grounds no matter which road we take," mumbled Stubbs.

"Don't croak, Mr. Stubbs," said Hal. "Barring accidents, we'll reach General Petain at Verdun in time to deliver these despatches before it's too late."

"What I don't understand," said Chester, "is why it is necessary to deliver these despatches by courier. What's the matter with the wire?"

"I don't know," said Hal, as he returned the chart to his pocket after a quick scrutiny, "unless there is a leak of some kind."

"Hardly," said Chester.

Hal shrugged his shoulders as he settled his cap more firmly on his head and laid a hand on the wheel.

"You never can tell," he said.

"Well," said Stubbs, "I don't—hey! what're you trying to do, anyhow?"

For the little man again had been hurled violently against Chester as Hal sent the car forward with a lurch. "Trying to leave me behind? What?"

"Can't be done, Mr. Stubbs," said Chester.

Mr. Stubbs glared at the lad angrily, but deigned to make no reply. So the big army automobile continued on its way in silence.

Darkness fell. Hal stopped the car and lighted the lamps.

"Can't take any chances while going at this speed," he said.

Stubbs grinned feebly to himself, seemed as if about to speak, then thought better of it and remained silent. But he waved a hand in disgust.

A moment later the car was rushing through the darkness at the speed of an express train; and while this journey in the night continues it will be well to explain the presence of the three companions in the big army car, how they came there and why, and the nature of the mission upon which they were bound.

A month before the three had been in the Balkans. There the two lads, together with Anthony Stubbs, had gone through many dangerous adventures, finally reaching Greek soil in the nick of time, with a horde of Bulgarians just behind them. With them had been others—Ivan, a Cossack, a third British officer and a young girl. Ivan had elected to join the Anglo-French forces at Salonika; the other British officer had found his own regiment there and the girl, whom it had been the good fortune of the boys to save from the Bulgarians, found friends in the Greek city who had taken her in charge.

Hal, Chester and Stubbs had embarked on a French battleship, homeward bound. After due time they landed in Marseilles.

"Now," said Chester, when he once more felt French soil under his feet,
"I suppose the thing for us to do is to return to the Italian lines and
see if we can learn anything of Uncle John, then return to Rome and to
New York."

Uncle John was the brother of Chester's mother. All had been bound for home when Hal and Chester had become involved in a matter that took them forward with the Italian troops. Uncle John had been along to keep them out of mischief, if he could. He hadn't succeeded and had fallen into the hands of the Austrians. The boys had saved him. Later they had been forced to seek refuge in the Balkans, having found it impossible to get back into the Italian lines, and they had lost Uncle John. Their arrival in Marseilles had really been the first step toward a return to Rome, where they intended to try and find their mothers.

But their plans to return to Rome did not materialize. As Hal said: "Luck was with us."

In a little room in a Marseilles restaurant they had overheard a conversation between two men, plainly foreigners, that had resulted in their once more being sent on active service. While they had been unable to gather all the details, they had learned enough to know that the German Crown Prince had laid careful plans for an attack on Verdun. They had taken their information to the French commanding officer in Marseilles. The latter had been somewhat skeptical, but Colonel Derevaux, an old friend of the boys, had arrived at the psychological moment and vouched for them.

Immediately the French officer decided that something must be done. The plans of the Germans, so far as he knew, had not been anticipated. For some reason he did not wish to trust the information to the telegraph wires, and the two lads had volunteered to deliver it in person to General Petain. Their offer had been accepted, which accounts for the fact that we find them upon the last leg of their journey to Verdun at the opening of this story.

Stubbs had elected to accompany them, for, as he said, "I've got to get the news."

The two lads had seen considerable active service. They had fought with the Belgians at Liège; with the British on the Marne; with the Cossacks in Russian Poland and in the Carpathians; with the Montenegrins and Serbians in the Balkans, and with the Italian troops in the Alps.

They had been participants in many a hard blow that had been delivered by the Allies. They had won the confidence of Field Marshall John French, commander of the British forces in France until he was succeeded by General Sir Douglas Haig after the battle of the Champagne, and of General Joffre, the French commander-in-chief.

While they ostensibly were British army officers, their titles were purely honorary, but they held actual lieutenancies in the Belgian army, these having been bestowed upon them by King Albert in recognition of services accomplished in and around Liège in the early days of the war.

The boys had been chums since early childhood. They had been brought up together. They attended school together and were inseparable companions. Each spoke German and French fluently, and service with other armies had given them a knowledge of other tongues. Both were strong and sturdy, crack shots, good with sword and sabre, and particularly handy with their fists. These accomplishments had stood them in good stead in many a tight place. But better than all these accomplishments was the additional fact that each was clear-headed, a quick thinker and very resourceful. They depended upon brains rather than brawn to pull them through ticklish situations, though they did not hesitate to call on the latter force when occasion demanded.

Hal, peering ahead by the glare of the searchlight on the large army car, suddenly slowed down; the car stopped. A group of mounted men rode up. Hal stood up and gave a military salute as one of the group advanced ahead of the others.

"I am from General Durand at Marseilles, sir," he said. "I have important dispatches for General Petain."

The French officer returned the salute.

"Follow me," he said briefly.

CHAPTER II

VERDUN

Rightly is the fortress of Verdun called the gateway to France. By reason of its strategic position, it is absolutely essential that an invading army have possession of Verdun before thought of a successful advance on Paris can be entertained; and it was upon the capture of Paris that the German emperor laid his hopes, in spite of the collapse of a similar offensive launched in the first days of the war.

But Wilhelm II had learned a lesson. Verdun must be taken before he ordered his armies upon the French capital; and so it was that, upon February twenty-third, 1916, the German Crown Prince began a determined assault upon the historic French fortress.

In sheer human interest the battle of Verdun surpassed all other individual events of the war. For six months and more the defenders of the gateway to France withstood a storm at the fury of which the world stood aghast.

Foot by foot, almost inch by inch, the Germans forged ahead with a reckless disregard of their lives, a tenacity and cool courage which was only equalled by the cool determination of the French. Five months after the opening of this great battle, the unofficial estimate of German dead was a half million men. The assailants fought their way to within three miles and a half of the fortress itself, but there they were finally halted. It was then that the tide turned; and though the Germans surged forward day after day in heavy masses they progressed no further. It was the beginning of the end.

The Germans advanced confidently. The destruction of the fortress presented no hard problem to them. The utter worthlessness of similarly fortified positions had been proven in the earlier days of the war—in the destruction of Louvain, Liège, Brussels and Antwerp, the latter the most strongly fortified city in the world, with the exception of Paris itself. The huge 42-centimetre guns of the Germans had battered them to pieces in little or no time at all.

It was with the knowledge of the effectiveness of these great guns that the Crown Prince opened the battle of Verdun. The fortress of Verdun and the outlying fortifications, it was believed, would be shattered with little effort. With these facts in mind, the German Crown Prince opened with his big guns, first upon the fortresses guarding Verdun itself.

These approaches shattered, the Crown Prince ordered his infantry and cavalry to the attack. But where the onrushing Germans, according to the reasoning of the Crown Prince, should have found no resistance, they encountered strenuous opposition. Abandoning the outlying artificial fortifications, the French had thrown up huge earthworks and from behind these received the German attacks coolly.

Against these great earthworks the heavy guns of the attacking forces availed little. The force of even the great 42-centimetres was not great enough to penetrate the loosely built mounds of earth behind which the French reposed. The great shells struck the fresh earth, were embedded there and did no harm. The French general staff had realized the uselessness of fortresses as soon as had the Germans.

Therefore, while the Germans were able to destroy forts and fortresses at will, almost, it availed them little. The defenders were secure behind their breastworks of earth. True, German guns dropped huge shells in the trenches, a veritable rain of death, but the gaps in the defending lines were filled promptly.

There remained naught for the Germans but to try and carry the trenches, under the support of their artillery.

Day after day the Crown Prince launched assault after assault. The French met them bravely. But the Germans were not to be denied; and urged on by the Crown Prince, and often by the presence upon the firing line of the German emperor himself, they continued the herculean task without regard to loss of life.

Gradually the French were forced back. Hand-to-hand fighting for possession of the greatest strategical positions, fought daily, for a time resulted in advantage to neither side. Among the chief objectives of the German attack were two particularly important positions—Hill No 304 (so called to distinguish it from numerous other elevated positions) and Le Mort Homme (Dead Man's Hill). This name, which was fated to become historic, was gained only after days and days of constant hand-to-hand fighting and is now recalled as one of the bloodiest battlefields of the titanic struggle.

General Henri Phillip Petain, in direct command of the French operations at Verdun, endeared himself to the hearts of all his countrymen by his gallant conduct of the defense. While the decision of General Joffre, the French commander-in-chief, to give ground before the German attacks rather than to sacrifice his men in a useless defense of the fortresses, was criticized at first by the people, the resulting value of this move was soon apparent and censure turned to praise.

While the heaviest assaults of the Germans were launched in the immediate vicinity of Verdun itself, the great battle line stretched far to the north and to the south. When it appeared at one time that the French must be hurled back, General Sir Douglas Haig, the British commander-in-chief, weakened his own lines to the far north to take over a portion of the ground just to his right and thus relieved the French situation at Verdun somewhat.

General Petain thus was enabled to shorten his own lines, and from that moment, with few exceptions, the French stood firm.

It seemed that the Germans, beaten off time after time as they were, must soon abandon the attempt to break the French lines at Verdun; but each repulse brought a new assault mightier than before. The Germans raced across the open ground under a veritable hail of lead. They fell by hundreds and thousands, but what few survived hurled themselves against the barbed wire entanglements of the French or into the trenches, there to die upon the points of the foes' bayonets, or to be shot down as they tumbled over the breastworks.

The German general staff drew heavily from its forces on the east front and added these new legions to the already large army occupied before Verdun; but the result was always the same. So far they could progress and no farther.

After almost five months of defensive tactics, General Petain began to launch assaults of his own. At first the Germans put these down with regularity, but at last the effort began to tell. The French made headway. Much of the lost ground was recovered. The French moved forward a bit day by day, occupied new positions and consolidated them. It was terrible work, but the French persevered.

Around Hill No. 304 and Dead Man's Hill the fighting was especially severe. There men died by the hundreds and by the thousands that one of the opposing armies might advance a few yards. Gains even were counted by feet—almost by inches. Gain of a few yards was accounted a day's work well done.

Not once did the French troops falter under fire; nor did the Germans, for that matter. Never was there greater bravery, loyalty and devotion. Called upon for tasks that seemed well nigh impossible, the men did not hesitate. They met death in such numbers as death was never met before.

Almost daily, after the French had taken a brace three and a half miles from Verdun, it seemed that the Crown Prince must give up the effort. It appeared incomprehensible that the useless sacrifice of men could continue. But the attempt was not given up; rather, it was pressed with greater vigor each succeeding day.

But, after five months, the fury of the German assaults gradually lessened. They were not delivered with the same effectiveness as before. The great guns continued to rage, scattering death over the field for miles, but the massed attacks of infantry, and cavalry charges, became more uncommon.

Then came a day when the Germans failed to attack at all. For more than twenty-four hours there was a lull. Weeks passed with the Germans launching only occasional drives. The same held good for the French. It appeared that each side was content to rest on its laurels, biding the time when a grand assault could be delivered with some degree of effectiveness.

The fighting was intermittent. It came spasmodically. Each side had fought itself out and had paused for breath. What advantage there had been, all things considered, rested with French arms. The losses on both sides, in killed and wounded, had been enormous—almost beyond comprehension. The number of prisoners taken by the French was large. Many French troops also had been captured, but not so many as Germans. Also, the French having been the defenders for the most part, they had suffered less in killed and wounded than had the foe.

This, then, was the result of the battle of Verdun six months after it had begun. There had been no decisive victory. Each side retained its positions, but each was ready to strike whenever the opportune moment presented itself.

Even while the fighting at Verdun was at its height there came the whisper of a grand offensive to be launched by the Allies. The whisper became louder as the days passed. There was more talk of Roumania and Greece throwing their armies to the support of the Allies, thus forming a steel cordon around the Central powers and their smaller allies, Bulgaria and Turkey, and forcing the Germans to shorten their lines. In the eastern war theater the Russians again were on the advance and were pushing the Germans and Austrians hard, threatening for a second time to invade Galicia and the plains of Hungary. It began to appear that the end was in sight.

Italy, too, had launched a new offensive with Trieste as the objective and the driving power of the Italian troops was beginning to tell. It began to appear that the Central powers must before long be placed upon the defensive in all war zones.

The world waited impatiently for the opening of the grand allied offensive that, it was expected, would be delivered simultaneously on all fronts. It was felt that it would not be long coming. There was talk of a new great field gun perfected by Great Britain—a gun that would be more effective than the German 42-centimetres—but so far it had come to play no part in the struggle.

But of all battles, land or sea, that had been fought in the greatest war of history, the battle of Verdun stood head and shoulders as the most important. It was the greatest and bloodiest struggle of all time, up to that period.

And it was in this battle that Hal and Chester, with the friend Anthony Stubbs, war correspondent, and other friends, old and new, were to play important roles. While each realized, as the three made their way to General Petain behind the French officer who had interrupted their wild automobile ride, that an important engagement was about to be fought, neither had, of course, means of knowing that they were to take part in one of the greatest of all battles.

It was with the satisfaction that they had arrived in time to prevent a surprise attack that they made their way to General Petain's quarters. But, as it transpired, they had arrived a trifle too late. For even as they reached the general's tent the German guns spoke.

CHAPTER III

GENERAL PETAIN

To the soldier the voice of the great guns speaks plainly. Their ears accustomed to the various forms of bombardments, Hal and Chester realized as well as the rest that this was no mere resumption of an artillery duel. It was not a single salvo from a single German position that had been fired. The great guns boomed from north and south; and continued to boom.

The officer who was conducting the three friends to the headquarters of
General Petain turned and called a single word over his shoulder:

"Hurry!"

He broke into a run and the others did likewise. A short turn or two and they brought up before a tent somewhat larger than the rest. This the lads knew was General Petain's field headquarters.

Even as the French officer approached the entrance, the general himself rushed from the tent, followed by members of his staff. The officer who had conducted the lads there accosted him.

"Sir," he said, "despatch bearers from General Durand at Marseilles."

General Petain waved them aside.

"I've no time for them now," he said, and made as if to move on.

Hal stepped forward.

"Sir," he said, "the despatches we carry have to do with the impending action."

General Petain stopped suddenly and eyed the lad keenly. Then he said abruptly:

"Come with me."

He led the way into the tent, and Hal, Chester and Stubbs followed him. The general seated himself at a desk at a far end of the tent and demanded:

"The despatches."

Hal produced several documents, which he passed to the general. The latter broke the seals quickly and read. Then suddenly he sprang to his feet and dashed outside. The lads could hear him delivering sharp orders to members of his staff. A moment later his voice became inaudible.

After fifteen minutes' waiting, Chester grew fidgety.

"Wonder where he went?" he said.

"Don't know," returned Hal with a shrug.

"Let's go out and see what's going on," said Stubbs, and moved toward the exit.

"Hold on," said Hal. "We're under General Petain's orders now. We had better remain here until he returns."

"You and Chester may be," said Stubbs, "but I'm not. I'm going out and have a look around."

"Better stick around, Stubbs," said Chester grimly. "If they find you wandering about you're liable to be put under arrest. You can't go snooping around without permission, you know."

"Snooping!" repeated Stubbs. "Snooping! Who's going snooping? I want to find out what's going on."

"Same thing," said Chester.

The little man was offended.

"Call it snooping when I go out hunting news for my paper?" he asked.

"It's snooping when you go sticking your nose into other people's business," declared Chester.

"This is my business," exclaimed Stubbs.

"Oh, no, it's not. It's just a plain case—"

"I tell you it is my business. It's the business of the New York Gazette. The people in the United States want to know what is going on over here."

"I'm afraid General Petain wouldn't agree with you, Stubbs," interposed Hal. "He doesn't care what the people in the United States want. All he cares about right now is to lick the Germans."

"Well, maybe you're right," Stubbs admitted, "but just the same—I want you fellows to know that hunting news is not snooping."

"Stubbs," said Chester, "I've got to give you credit. In my opinion you're a first class snooper."

"What?" exclaimed the little man, fairly dancing with rage. "Snooper? Me a snooper? What do you mean?"

"Of course you are," replied Chester; "and a good one. Why, I can remember once or twice that if you hadn't been a good snooper Hal and I wouldn't be here now. Remember?"

"Well, yes," said Stubbs, somewhat mollified, "but I don't know whether that's what you meant or not."

"Why, Stubbs," said Chester, "what else could I have meant?"

Stubbs looked at Chester coldly; then turned and walked to the far end of the tent.

"Now see what you've done, Chester," said Hal, in a whisper meant for
Stubbs to overhear. "You've made him mad."

Stubbs whirled about angrily.

"You bet you've made me mad," he declared. "You can bet, too, that I won't ever do any more snooping on behalf of either of you. The next time you get in trouble you'll have to depend on someone besides Anthony Stubbs to get you out of it."

"See," said Hal. "I told you not to do it, Chester. He's liable to let us both get killed. He—"

Stubbs could stand no more. He turned on his heel and made his way from the tent. But even as he would have moved away he became involved in more trouble.

With head down and not looking where he was going, he collided with another figure and was pushed violently backwards. Stubbs looked up angrily and was about to say something when he glanced at the other. It was General Petain. The latter spoke before Stubbs could apologize.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded. "Can't you see where you're going? What were you doing in my tent, anyhow? Who are you? What's your business here?"

The questions, came so fast that Stubbs was confused.

"I—why—I—" he stuttered.

"Come inside here," said the general.

He stretched forth a hand, seized Stubbs by the collar and pushed him in the tent. Stubbs, caught off his balance, went stumbling and almost fell into Hal's arms. General Petain entered the tent immediately behind him.

When his eyes fell upon Hal and Chester he gave a start of surprise.
Evidently he had forgotten all about them. Then he remembered.

"So you're still here?" he said. "I had forgotten all about you."

"We are awaiting your orders, sir," said Hal.

"I don't know as I have any for you," was the reply. "I have taken what precautions I can. Had you arrived a day earlier it might have been different. I would have had more time."

"We came as fast as we could, sir," said Chester.

"I've no doubt of that," said the general. "Your information is of great value, of course. I suppose you will return to Marseilles?"

"We had rather remain here a while, sir," said Hal.

"So," said the general. "It's fighting you want, eh? Well, I guess I can accommodate you. I probably shall need every man I can get hold of. I shall attach you to my staff temporarily. But tell me, who is this man here?" He pointed to Stubbs.

"War correspondent," replied Hal briefly.

"What?" roared the general, "and in my tent! I'll have him court martialed!"

Stubbs quailed visibly.

"A war correspondent, eh," continued the general, "and walking about within my lines as free as air. He may be a spy. I'll have him shot."

"Look here, general," said Stubbs, "I—"

"Silence!" thundered General Petain. He turned to Hal. "Your name, sir?"

"Paine, sir."

"A lieutenant, I see."

"Yes, sir."

General Petain turned to Chester.

"And your name?"

"Lieutenant Crawford, sir."

"Good. I'll turn this man over to you. You may do as you please with him.
I see he is a friend of yours."

"Yes, sir," returned Hal. "He's a good friend of ours, sir. He's rendered us several valuable services. Also, sir, he is to be trusted. He will seek to send out no information which you desire suppressed."

"I never heard of one like that," said the general.

"He's the only one in captivity, sir. His name is Stubbs, sir, of the New
York Gazette"

"His name will be Mudd, sir, if he doesn't conduct himself properly while within my lines," declared General Petain. "Take him with you. Find Lieutenant Maussapant and tell him to find quarters for you. Report to me at midnight. I probably shall have work for you."

The lads saluted and made their way from the tent. Stubbs followed them.
Chester glanced at his watch.

"Great Scott!" he ejaculated. "I had no idea it was so late."

"How late?" asked Chester.

"Ten-thirty."

"Nor I," said Chester. "Where do you suppose we are going to find
Maussapant?"

"You've got me. However, here comes a young officer; we'll ask him."

Hal did so.

"That is my name," was the young man's smiling response.

"Then we're in luck," said Hal. "General Petain requests that you find quarters for me."

"As it happens," said the young Frenchman, "two of my brother officers have been transferred and I can ask you to bunk with me."

"How about Stubbs?" asked Hal.

"Stubbs?"

"Yes; our friend here, a war correspondent."

"Oh, I guess we can find room for him. Come with me."

The three friends followed the young Frenchman and presently were installed in a large, comfortable tent.

"Turn in whenever you're ready," said the Frenchman.

"We must report to the general at midnight," was Hal's reply.

"What's up?"

"You've got me," said Hal. "Hope it's something good, though."

"Probably is, or he wouldn't want you at that hour."

"Well," said Stubbs at this point, "you boys can do what you please. I'm going to get a little sleep."

"All right," said Chester. "If we shouldn't be around in the morning, don't worry. We'll turn up sooner or later."

Stubbs nodded and made ready for bed.

At five minutes to twelve o'clock, Hal and Chester started for the headquarters of General Petain.

"Here's where we get busy again, old man," said Chester.

CHAPTER IV

THE BATTLE OPENS

For forty-eight hours the greatest of modern artillery duels had raged incessantly. German guns swept the French positions in all sections of the Verdun region. Fortresses protecting the approach to the city of Verdun had been shattered. The Germans had hurled two and three shells to each one by the French.

But after the first day the French had entrenched themselves behind their earth breastworks, hastily dug and thrown up, and now remained secure. Into these the German guns now poured their fire. The defenders were ready for the first attack by infantry, which it was realized would come soon.

And it came even sooner than was expected.

Hal, with a despatch for the officer in command of the first line troops just to the north of Verdun, was about to return when there came a sudden shout:

"Here they come!"

Hal turned quickly.

There, perhaps half a mile away, stretched out a long thin line, barely visible through the dense cloud of smoke that overhung the ground. Hal took in the situation, instantly. The German infantry was advancing to the charge under artillery support.

Behind the first long line stretched out a second and beyond that a third and a fourth and many more. They advanced slowly in the face of a rain of lead turned on them by the men in the trenches. Men fell to the right and to the left, Hal could see, but the gaps were filled instantly and the long lines pressed forward.

Now they were within three hundred yards and the heavy German guns became silent. The advance now must be made without further artillery support, for the German batteries could not fire without imminent danger of shooting down their own men. The Germans broke into a run.

From behind the French earthworks was poured a hail of lead, but it did not serve to check the approaching foe. On to the breastworks they came and clambered up. Behind the first line came many more and they swarmed upon the defenders like bees in a hive.

Bayonet met bayonet and revolvers cracked. Men struggled with their bare hands. Friend and foe went down together, struggling to the last. On the right and on the left, though Hal could not see these actions, similar scenes were being enacted. The Germans had made their initial advance upon a front of almost fifteen miles.

A bugle sounded.

French reinforcements were rushed forward to aid the hard-pressed men in the first line trenches. More Germans poured in. The struggling mass surged backward and forward. Then the French broke and fled, and Hal found himself among a panic-stricken mass of humanity, running for life for the protection of the second line trenches. From behind, the victorious Germans fell to their knees and poured a steady rifle fire upon the vanquished. Over the heads of their fleeing countrymen the second line French troops returned the fire.

Hastily the Germans fell to work throwing up earthworks facing the second French line. Under experienced hands the breastworks sprang up as if by magic. They entrenched calmly under the rifles of the French infantry and the heavy guns of the French batteries, though men fell upon all hands.

Far away, but coming closer, the German batteries now opened fire on the second French trenches, firing above the heads of the victorious German infantry. The infantry action subsided. The duel of big guns was resumed.

Chester, who had been despatched by General Petain with orders, arrived there to witness a scene similar to the one Hal had seen in the center. The German assaults had been successful all along the line. The French had lost their first line trenches on a front of approximately twelve miles. Only at one or two isolated spots had the Germans met reverses; and these few points that the French still held were doubly dangerous now. They could not be given the proper support. Later in the day they were abandoned.

Hal and Chester returned to their posts about the same time. Each was sadly disappointed at the result of the first infantry fighting. For several hours they were kept on the jump carrying despatches, and it was after dark before they found themselves alone together after the strenuous day.

"Pretty hard," said Hal, shaking his head sadly.

"I should say so," Chester agreed. "It seems to me that those fellows could have been stopped."

"It doesn't to me," declared Hal. "The way they swept into our trenches seemed to me beyond human power to stop. I'm glad they stopped when they did. They probably could have gone farther."

"They'll try again to-morrow," said Chester positively.

"I'm afraid so," agreed Hal; "and if they do, I'm afraid they'll drive us back again."

"And what's the reason?" demanded Chester.

Hal shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know," he said. "Of course they can only progress so far. They'll wear themselves out by their own exertions. They lost a great deal more heavily than we did to-day; but certainly it seemed as if nothing could stop them."

There was little rest for Hal and Chester that night. It seemed to both that they had hardly closed their eyes when they were again summoned to General Petain. Assembled there they found the entire staff. The French commander was reviewing the events of the day and issuing orders and instructions rapidly. He realized that there would be more and probably harder fighting on the next day and he was laying his plans accordingly. Hal and Chester received their instructions for the morrow along with the rest.

Returning to their own quarters again, they were attracted by the sound of confusion a short distance away.

"Something up," said Chester. "Let's have a look."

Nothing loath, Hal followed his chum.

In the light of a large camp fire they made out a crowd of soldiers gathered about in a large circle. Howls of amusement and hilarious laughter rose on the air. Hal and Chester pushed closer and were able to ascertain the cause of merriment.

In the center six French soldiers held a blanket and in the center of this blanket was a man. He rose and fell as the six men alternately released the blanket and then drew it taut again. He was yelling at the top of his voice to be let alone and threatening dire vengeance on his tormentors when he would be able to get at them. But he was laughing and taking the joke good naturedly.

Hal and Chester joined the circle of spectators and derived as much amusement as the others from the proceedings. At length, tiring of their present victim, the men lowered him to the ground. One of them, a large, strapping fellow, perhaps thirty years of age, cast his eye around the circle of faces.

"Let's get another one," he shouted.

There was a chorus of assent from the others and all six set to looking about for a victim who would not prove too willing. As Hal said to Chester, apparently there was no fun tossing a man who took it good naturedly.

At last the big fellow gave a howl of delight and dashed forward. Hal gazed after him. As the big fellow bounded forward, a slight figure in the first row turned and ran. But the big fellow overtook him and dragged him back.

"Here's one, men," he cried. "See, he doesn't want to come with me. He doesn't know what a good time he is going to have. We'll give him a good one."

The others lent a hand and dragged the unwilling captive forward. As they would have put him on the blanket, the youngster—for such the captive proved to be—protested.

"Some other time, fellows," he said. "I'm sick to-night. I hadn't ought to be out at all, but I couldn't stay in the tent any longer. I'll let you toss me in the blanket some other time, but please let me alone to-night."

From where Hal and Chester stood it was plain to see that the boy was telling the truth. His face was deathly pale and he looked very ill.

"Great Scott," said Hal, "they shouldn't torment him. He is telling the truth."

"Certainly he is," Chester agreed. "I believe the boy is very ill."

But the young French boy's protest fell on unheeding ears.

With loud guffaws the men grabbed hold of the blanket and sent the captive spinning aloft. Two, three times he rose and fell, and upon the last was still in the blanket. Apparently the men who held the blanket had not noticed this, however, for they were preparing to toss him aloft again. But Hal had detected the lad's condition. He decided it was time for some one to interfere, and as no one else apparently was ready to call a halt on the proceeding, he determined to take a hand himself.

Quickly he shed his overcoat and then tossed off his jacket and passed them to Chester.

"Hold 'em!" he said, and sprang forward.

At the edge of the circle he halted and gazed at the big Frenchman, who had chanced to turn in his direction.

"Let the boy go," he said. "Can't you see that he is unconscious?"

The big Frenchman grinned at him. When Hal had taken off his coat, he had removed all signs of his rank and the soldier had no means of knowing he was an officer.

"One more toss," said the Frenchman.

Hal stepped close to him.

"The boy is unconscious," said the Frenchman, and added: "Then we'll take you."

He nodded to the others in signal that it was time to toss; but before he could move, Hal had seized him by the wrist and whirled him around.

"You heard me," the lad said quietly. "I meant what I said."

He gave the Frenchman's arm a quick twist and the man dropped his hold on the blanket. The Frenchman's hold on the blanket released, the lad upon it tumbled to the ground, where he lay still. Instantly several others bent over and gave their attention to bringing him to. The man whom Hal had confronted turned on him angrily.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded.

"I told you to let the boy alone and I meant it," said Hal quietly.

For answer the Frenchman struck at him. Hal dodged the blow and stepped back. He would have avoided a fight if possible. But the Frenchman stepped after him and struck again. Again Hal dodged and the blow passed harmlessly over his head. The lad struck out quickly with his right and caught the Frenchman a hard blow upon the side of the neck. Big man though he was, the Frenchman toppled over. Hal walked back to where he had left Chester, donned his coat and the two moved away.

Behind them, as the big Frenchman staggered to his feet there was a howl of merriment. The Frenchman shook a fist angrily at Hal's back.

CHAPTER V

THE BLACK PEAS

The howling without continued when Hal and Chester reached their own quarters.

"Well, you've made another enemy, Hal," said Chester.

"Can't help that," was his chum's reply. "It had to be done. By the way,
I wonder what's happened to Stubbs?"

"Oh, I guess he is spooking around some place. He'll turn up before long."

The lad was right. Hal and Chester had hardly composed themselves to sleep when the flap to the tent was lifted and Stubbs' head appeared. He struck a match and looked at the two lads.

"Asleep?" he asked.

Neither lad was, but neither replied. They were both too sleepy to care to enter into a conversation with Stubbs, so they maintained a discreet silence.

"All right, then," said Stubbs, "if you're asleep I'll soon be with you."

He removed his clothing and went to bed.

Stubbs was up early the following morning and when the lads arose entertained them with an account of his wanderings.

"And," he concluded, "I've stumbled across a story that's a wonder."

"A story?" repeated Chester.

"Yes. A 'story' is a newspaper man's way of expressing something big."

"Something to do with the battle?" asked Hal.

"It may have and it may not," declared Stubbs. "It may have something to do with the whole war—and it may not. I don't know."

"What is it, Stubbs?" asked Chester.

Stubbs winked one eye at him.

"As I happened to stumble across this while I was snooping," he said, "and as you don't think much of snooping, I am going to keep this to myself."

"Come, Mr. Stubbs," said Chester, "you know I was just fooling."

"Well, I may be just fooling now, for all you know," said Stubbs.

In vain did the lads plead to know what he was talking about. Stubbs was obdurate and took his departure, announcing that he was going to do some more "snooping," without enlightening them.

Hardly had he gone when the lads received a caller. It was none other than the young French boy whom Hal had rescued from the hands of his tormentors the night before.

"They told me you came to my aid," he said to Hal, "so I have come to thank you."

"Who are they?" asked Hal.

"Some of the men. It was true that I was ill last night. Jules Clemenceau will not forget."

The young French boy had stood with one hand in his pocket, and now withdrew the hand and extended it to Hal. As he did so, two small objects fell from his pocket. Apparently Jules did not notice them. Hal shook hands with the boy and the Frenchman took his departure.

Chester, in the meantime, had picked up the two little objects and now he called to Jules, but the young Frenchman did not hear him.

"Oh, I guess he doesn't want these things, anyhow," the lad muttered.

"What things?" asked Hal, who had not seen the objects drop from
Jules' pocket.

Chester passed one of the objects to him.

"Know what it is?" he asked.

"Sure," returned Hal, "don't you?"

"No. What is it?"

"A pea."

"I never saw a pea like that."

"Probably not. They are rather rare. A black pea, that's what it is.
Where did you get it?"

"Jules dropped it out of his pocket."

"Well, as he seems to think I have done him a favor, I am just going to keep this. I guess he won't mind. I'll carry it as a pocket piece."

"Then I'll carry the mate to it," said Chester.

He put the little round pea in his pocket and Hal followed suit.

Although neither could possibly have suspected it, these two little peas were to be the means of getting them into all kinds of trouble.

There was heavy fighting that day and when night fell it found the Germans safely entrenched in the French second line trenches along a seven-mile front. For some reason or other Hal and Chester did not get to the front, their duties confining them close to General Petain's headquarters. They were kept busy most of the day, however, and were tired out when they returned to their own quarters late that night.

Ready as they were for bed, they consented to sit up a while and talk with Stubbs, who announced that he had a wonderful tale to unfold.