Fighting in France | Page 4

on their arms looked like
misshapen hedgerows in the faint light. The roar of the French artillery
came distinctly to the ears of these men who stood and waited. Every
man knew why it was that its activity was so greatly increased that
night. Their guns were playing a stream of metal death on every yard
and foot and inch of the opposing trenches. Not a spot in the German

lines but was being searched by these great mechanical monsters.
"Listen!" warned Earl suddenly.
Nearby some man had started to sing the Marseillaise. Soon others
joined in and the chorus swelled as man after man lent his voice to that
stirring anthem. In a few moments every soldier present was singing
and even the roar of the great guns became faint and indistinct as the
thousands of throats chanted the great hymn of victory.
A thrill ran up and down Leon's spine. He used to regard the
Marseillaise as the national anthem and had often heard it sung without
any particular feeling. Since the war had started, however, it had
seemed different to him. As the soldiers sang it, biting out each word
sharp and short, it had become a battle-cry. He realized how terribly in
earnest these Frenchmen were who stood there in the darkness and
hurled defiance at their German foes.
At length the order came to move. Slowly the column moved out of the
camp and turning to the right marched down the road leading to the
trenches. On both the right and left could be seen other columns
moving in parallel lines and in the same direction.
"Who are they?" whispered Earl.
"I can't tell," replied Jacques in answer to his comrade's query. "Both
regiments are attached to our division though, I think."
Slowly and at the same pace the three columns advanced. The men
were unusually quiet and none of the customary bantering was present.
Perhaps every man was busied with the thought of what was going to
happen to him at quarter past nine the next day.
"This seems like a funeral march," exclaimed Leon in a low voice.
"And I don't like it, either," added Earl.
"Wait," cautioned Jacques. "Everyone's spirits will revive in a few

minutes. The strain will wear off soon."
His prediction proved to be correct. A short time later the pace was
quickened and the murmur of low-voiced conversations could be heard.
The men even began to tease one another and tell jokes. It seemed
almost incredible that men preparing to face what they were to meet-on
the morrow could be so light-hearted.
"Here we come to the trenches," exclaimed Jacques. "What time is it?"
"Just eleven o'clock," said Earl, consulting his watch.
"An hour so far," murmured Jacques.
One by one the soldiers filed into the trench. All talking ceased and
mile after mile they moved forward. In single-file the men marched
through the communicating trench. Every little while a lateral trench
appeared and as they came closer to the front these trenches increased
in number. The roar of the giant guns steadily became louder and
louder.
Soon the lateral trenches became very numerous. Every one was filled
with soldiers, their arms resting on the ground. They eyed the regiment
filing past them enviously and were apparently curious to know why it
had been selected to lead the charge in preference to themselves.
"Who are you?" demanded one man.
"La douziéme," said Jacques.
"Ah," said the man. "I see."
It was a famous regiment to which these three boys belonged and its
record for daring and bravery was known by all the army. No wonder it
had been chosen to lead the advance. If anyone could get through, la
douziéme was that one. A feeling of confidence pervaded the regiment
and the knowledge that the army shared that feeling was a source of
satisfaction to every member.

"Look!" exclaimed Leon suddenly. "What place is this?"
"There's not much left of it whatever it is," replied Jacques grimly.
The regiment had suddenly emerged from the trench into the street of a
village. At least it had once been a village, but only its ghost now
remained. Every house had been bombarded and battered until now
there was standing only bare walls, when indeed they had been spared.
"There's the moon," whispered Earl suddenly. "I saw it over my right
shoulder. That means good luck."
"We'll need it," said Leon grimly.
Down the ruined village street the march continued and then another
trench swallowed them up. Straight ahead they went and then turned
sharply to the right. A short distance and they swung to the left. Finally
the advance ceased and the men came to rest.
"We're in the first line trench," whispered Jacques.
"You don't have to tell me that," exclaimed Leon.