World War, 1914-1918 -- Campaigns -- France -- Juvenile fiction
Even in the silence and secrecy that was necessary in that cautious
advance, the American youths had more than a taste of Hun treachery and
brutality. Apparently the Germans knew that their prisoners were hungry,
from having overheard their remarks immediately after their capture.
They were made aware of their parched thirst when the lads asked for
water.
And to aggravate their misery so far as possible, although the lads were
too proud to let it be seen that the acts even annoyed them, the
Germans, singly and in pairs, would walk directly in front of or beside
them, munching thick slices of their own brutal-looking brown, or rather
black, bread, or thrust the opening of a water bottle to the lips of one
of them, only to withdraw it quickly with a low laugh when the youths
thus sorely tempted would try to get at least a swallow of the craved
water.
“They’re barbarians; they are without human instincts or feelings,” Tom
hissed into the ear of Ollie, who walked in the middle of the trio, “so
try not to mind anything they do. Our best course is to ignore what they
do in their efforts to punish us, and to avoid aggravating them any
further.”
At that moment Harper stumbled over a fallen tree branch and fell to the
ground, splintering and crashing the dead wood.
A gutteral oath just behind him was accompanied by a sharp bayonet jab
in the ribs. Harper was about to let out an involuntary cry of mingled
pain and anger when Tom, who well enough knew the result would be more
punishment, cautioned him, “Say nothing.” The Boche, who did not
understand English, peered at the sergeant inquiringly through the
darkness, but as Harper got up he did nothing worse than give him a
vigorous shove forward.
They were now closely skirting a long fringe of wood that seemed to run
almost directly northeast and southwest, and even the men who were
stretched out ahead and on either side as “feelers” for the American
forces kept well within its shadows, for the rising moon was bathing the
whole countryside in its light, and objects, particularly if they were
moving, could be discerned at a considerable distance. Occasionally they
came upon the body of a dead soldier, the stark and staring eyes
acquiring an added touch of ghastliness in the pale lunar light.
Occasionally the dull hum of an aeroplane motor would be heard in the
distance, its sound rising to a roar as it approached and passed, but
practically all the time it was within hearing the small band of Germans
remained in hiding among the trees, and although sometimes the lads
could see the machines so plainly that it seemed they might attract
attention to themselves with a shout, they never were discovered by the
pilots or their observers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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