"Bombs!" said the M. O.
The explosions were followed by the rat-tat-tat--tat-tat--tat-tat-tat of
the machine guns. Instantly they were both on their feet and out in the
trench.
"I guess Fritzie is trying to put something over on us, being our first
night," said the M. O. "I'll get my boys out."
He ran to the adjoining dugout, where his corporal and stretcher bearers
were sleeping, roused them and sent them up the trench. There was
the sound of subdued voices and of quick marching feet along the
communication trench a few yards away. They stood together listening for
a few minutes.
"I'm going," said Barry, hurrying off in the direction of the sound.
"Come on."
"Captain Dunbar," called the M. O. sharply, "my place is here, and I
think this is where you will be most useful as well. They will bring the
wounded to us right here."
In a few minutes all was still again, except for the machine guns, which
still kept up their incessant tattoo.
The M. O. was correct in his forecast.
Pages:
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381