bruce-第17章

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digestion。　Yet；　once　in　a　while；　as　a　special　luxury；　the

Mistress　had　been　wont　to　give　him　a　solitary　lump　of　sugar。



Since　his　arrival　in　France；　the　dog　had　never　seen　nor　scented

such　a　thing　until　now。　Yet　he　did　not　jump　for　the　gift。　He　did

not　try　to　snatch　it　from　Vivier。　Instead；　he　waited　until　the

old　Frenchman　held　it　closer　toward　him；　with　the　invitation：



〃Take　it；　mon　vieux！　It　is　for　you。〃



Then　and　then　only　did　Bruce　reach　daintily　forward　and　grip　the

grimy　bit　of　sugar　between　his　mighty　jaws。　Vivier　stroked　the

collie's　head　while　Bruce　wagged　his　tail　and　munched　the　sugar

and　blinked　gratefully　up　at　the　donor。　Mahan　looked　on；

enviously。　〃A　dog's　got　forty…two　teeth；　instead　of　the　thirty…

two　that　us　humans　have　to　chew　on；〃　observed　the　Sergeant。　〃A

vet'　told　me　that　once。　And　sugar　is　bad　for　all　forty…two　of

'em。　Maybe　you　didn't　know　that；　Monsoo　Vivier？　Likely；　at　this

rate；　we'll　have　to　chip　in　before　long　and　buy　poor　Brucie　a

double　set　of　false　teeth。　Just　because　you've　put　his　real　ones

out　of　business　with　lumps　of　sugar！〃



Vivier　looked　genuinely　concerned　at　this　grim　forecast。　Bruce

wandered　across　to　the　place　where　the　donor　of　the　soup…bone

brandished　his　offering。　Other　men；　too；　were　crowding　around

with　gifts。



Between　petting　and　feeding；　the　collie　spent　a　busy　hour　among

his　comrades…at…arms。　He　was　to　stay　with　the　〃Here…We…Comes〃

until　the　following　day；　and　then　carry　back　to　headquarters　a

reconnaissance　report。



At　four　o'clock　that　afternoon　the　sky　was　softly　blue　and　the

air　was　unwontedly　clear。　By　five　o'clock　a　gentle　India…summer

haze　blurred　the　world's　sharper　outlines。　By　six　a　blanket…fog

rolled　in；　and　the　air　was　wetly　unbreatheable。　The　fog　lay　so

thick　over　the　soggy　earth　that　objects　ten　feet　away　were

invisible。



〃This；〃　commented　Sergeant　Mahan；　〃is　one　of　the　times　I　was

talking　about　this　morningwhen　eyes　are　no　use。　This　is　sure

the　country　for　fogs；　in　war…time。　The　cockneys　tell　me　the

London　fogs　aren't　a　patch　on　'em。〃



The　〃Here…We…Comes〃　were　encamped；　for　the　while；　at　the　edge　of

a　sector　from　whence　all　military　importance　had　recently　been

removed　by　a　convulsive　twist　of　a　hundred…mile　battle…front。　In

this　dull　hole…in…a…corner　the　new…arrived　rivets　were　in　process

of　welding　into　the　more　veteran　structure　of　the　mixed　regiment。



Not　a　quarter…mile　awayacross　No　Man's　Land　and　athwart　two

barriers　of　barbed　wirelay　a　series　of　German　trenches。　Now；　in

all　probability；　and　from　all　outward　signs；　the　occupants　of

this　boche　position　consisted　only　of　a　regiment　or　two　which　had

been　so　badly　cut　up；　in　a　foiled　drive；　as　to　need　a　month　of

non…exciting　routine　before　going　back　into　more　perilous

service。



Yet　the　commander　of　the　division　to　which　the　〃Here…We…Comes〃

were　attached　did　not　trust　to　probabilities　nor　to　outward

signs。　He　had　been　at　the　front　long　enough　to　realize　that　the

only　thing　likely　to　happen　was　the　thing　which　seemed

unlikeliest。　And　he　felt　a　morbid　curiosity　to　learn　more　about

the　personnel　of　those　dormant　German　trenches。



Wherefore　he　had　sent　an　order　that　a　handful　of　the　〃Here…We…

Comes〃　go　forth　into　No　Man's　Land；　on　the　first　favorable　night；

and　try　to　pick　up　a　boche　prisoner　or　two　for　questioning…

purposes。　A　scouring　of　the　doubly　wired　area　between　the　hostile

lines　might　readily　harvest　some　solitary　sentinel　or　some　other

man　on　special　duty；　or　even　the　occupants　of　a　listening…post。

And　the　division　commander　earnestly　desired　to　question　such

prisoner　or　prisoners。　The　fog　furnished　an　ideal　night　for　such

an　expedition。



Thus　it　was　that　a　very　young　lieutenant　and　Sergeant　Mahan　and

ten　privatesthe　lanky　Missourian　among　themwere　detailed　for

the　prisoner…seeking　job。　At　eleven　o'clock；　they　crept　over　the


top；　single　file。



It　was　a　night　wherein　a　hundred　searchlights　and　a　million　star…

…flares　would　not　have　made　more　impression　on　the　density　of　the

fog　than　would　the　striking　of　a　safety　match。　Yet　the　twelve

reconnoiterers　were　instructed　to　proceed　in　the　cautious　manner

customary　to　such　nocturnal　expeditions　into　No　Man's　Land。　They

moved　forward　at　the　lieutenant's　order；　tiptoeing　abreast；　some

twenty　feet　apart　from　one　another；　and　advancing　in　three…foot

strides。　At　every　thirty　steps　the　entire　line　was　required　to

halt　and　to　reestablish　contactin　other　words；　to　〃dress〃　on

the　l　ieutenant；　who　was　at　the　extreme　right。



This　maneuver　was　more　time…wasting　and　less　simple　than　its

recital　would　imply。　For　in　the　dark；　unaccustomed　legs　are

liable　to　miscalculation　in　the　matter　of　length　of　stride；　even

when　shell…holes　and　other　inequalities　of　ground　do　not

complicate　the　calculations　still　further。　And　it　is　hard　to

maintain　a　perfectly　straight　line　when　moving　forward　through

choking　fog　and　over　scores　of　obstacles。



The　halts　for　realignment　consumed　much　time　and　caused　no　little

confusion。　Nervousness　began　to　encompass　the　Missouri　recruit。

He　was　as　brave　as　the　next　man。　But　there　is　something　creepy

about　walking　with　measured　tread　through　an　invisible　space；

with　no　sound　but　the　stealthy　pad…pad…pad　of　equally　hesitant

footsteps　twenty　feet　away　on　either　side。　The　Missourian　was

grateful　for　the　intervals　that　brought　the　men　into　mutual

contact；　as　the　eerie　march　continued。



The　first　line　of　barbed　wire　was　cut　and　passed。　Then　followed

an　endless　groping　progress　across　No　Man's　Land；　and　several

delays；　as　one　man　or　another　had　trouble　in　finding　contact　with

his　neighbor。



At　last　the　party　came　to　the　German　wires。　The　lieutenant　had

drawn　on　a　rubber　glove。　In　his　gloved　hand　he　grasped　a　strip　of

steel　which　he　held　in　front　of　him；　like　a　wand；　fanning　the　air

with　it。



As　he　came　to　the　entanglement；　he　probed　the　barbed　wire

carefully　with　his　wand；　watching　for　an　ensuing　spark。　For　the

Germans　more　than　once　had　been　known　to　electrify　their　wires；

with　fatal　results　to　luckless　prowlers。



These　wires；　to…night；　were　not　charged。　And；　with　pliers；　the

lieutenant　and　Mahan　started　to　cut　a　passageway　through　them。



As　the　very　first　strand　parted　under　his　pressure；　Mahan　laid

one　hand　warningly　on　the　lieutenant's　sleeve；　and　then　passed

the　same　prearranged　warning　down　the　line　to　the　left。



Silencemoveless；　tense；　sharply　listening　silencefollowed　his

motion。　Then　the　rest　of　the　party　heard　the　sound　which　Mahan's

keener　ears　had　caught　a　moment　earlierthe　thud　of　many

marching　feet。　Here　was　no　furtive　creeping；　as　when　the　twelve

Yankees　had　moved　along。　Rather　was　it　the　rhythmic　beat　of　at

least　a　hundred　pairs　of　shapeless　army　bootsperhaps　of　more。

The　unseen　marchers　were　moving　wordlessly；　but　with　no　effort　at

muffling　the　even　tread　of　their　multiple　feet。



〃They're　coming　this　way！〃　breathed　Sergeant　Mahan　almost　without

sound；　his　lips　close　to　the　excited　young　lieutenant's　ear。　〃And

they're　not　fifty　paces　off。　That　means　they're　boches。　So　near

the　German　wire；　our　men　would　either　be　crawling　or　else

charging；　not　marching！　It's　a　companymaybe　a　battalioncoming

back　from　a　reconnaissance；　and　making　for　a　gap　in　their　own

wire　some　where　near　here。　If　we　lay　low　there's　an　off　chance

they　may　pass　us　by。〃



Without　awaiting　the　lieutenant's　order；　Mahan　passed　along　the

signal　for　every　man　to　drop　to　earth　and　lie　there。　He　all　but

forced　the　eagerly　gesticulating　lieutenant　to　the　ground。



On　came　the　swinging　tread　of　the　Germans。　Mahan；　listening

breathlessly；　tried　to　gauge　the　distance　and　the　direction。　He

figured；　presently；　that　the　break　the　Germans　had　made　in　their

wire　could　be　only　a　few　yards　below　the　spot　where　he　and　the

lieutenant　had　been　at　work　with　the　pliers。　Thus　the　intruders；

from　their　present　course；　must　inevitably　pass　very　close