The Forest of Swords by Joseph A. Altsheler


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Page 45

The _Arrow_ ascended at a sharp angle, and then hovered for a little
while in curves and spirals. John saw the generals below, but they were
no longer watching the aeroplane. Their glasses were turned once more to
the battle front.

"Ultimately we're to reach the commander of the central army, if we
can," said Lannes, "but meanwhile we're to bend in toward the German
lines, in search of your immediate chief, General Vaugirard, who is one
of the staunchest and most daring fighters in the whole French Army. If
we find him at all it's likely that we'll find him farther forward than
any other general."

"But not any farther than my friend of Montmartre, Bougainville. There's
a remarkable fellow. I saw his military talent the first time I met him.
Or I should better say I felt it rather than saw it. And he was making
good in a wonderful manner today."

"I believe with you, John, that he's a genius. But if we find General
Vaugirard and then finish our errand we must hasten. It will be night in
two hours."

He increased the speed of the aeroplane and they flew eastward,
searching all the hills and woods for the command of General Vaugirard.




CHAPTER VI

IN HOSTILE HANDS


The task that lay before the two young men was one of great difficulty.
The battle line was shifting continually, although the Germans were
being pressed steadily back toward the east and north, but among so many
generals it would be hard to find the particular one to whom they were
bearing orders. The commander of the central army was of high
importance, but the fact did not bring him at once before the eye.

They were to see General Vaugirard, too, but it was possible that he had
fallen. John, though, could not look upon it as a probability. The
general was so big, so vital, that he must be living, and he felt the
same way about Bougainville. It was incredible that fate itself should
snuff out in a day that spark of fire.

Lannes, uncertain of his course, bore in again toward the German lines,
and dropped as low as he could, compatible with safety from any kind of
shot. John meanwhile scanned every hill and valley wood and field with
his powerful glasses, and he was unable to see any diminution in the
fury of the struggle. The cannon thundered, with all their might, along
a line of scores of miles; rapid firers sent a deadly hail upon the
opposing lines; rifles flashed by the hundred thousand, and here and
there masses of troops closed with the bayonet.

Seen from a height the battle was stripped of some of its horrors, but
all its magnitude remained to awe those who looked down upon it. From
the high, cold air John could not see pain and wounds, only the swaying
back and forth of the battle lines. All the time he searched attentively
for men who did not wear the red and blue of France, and at last he
said:

"I've failed to find any sign of the British army."

"They're farther to the left," replied Lannes. "I caught a glimpse of
their khaki lines this morning. Their regular troops are great fighters,
as our Napoleon himself admitted more than once, and they've never done
better than they're doing today. When I saw them they were advancing."

"I'm glad of that. It's curious how I feel about the English, Philip.
They've got such a conceit that they irritate me terribly at times, yet
I don't want to see them beaten by any other Europeans. That's our
American privilege."

"A family feeling, perhaps," said Lannes, laughing, "but we French and
English have been compelled to be allies, and after fighting each other
for a thousand years we're now the best of friends. I think, John, we'll
have to go down and procure information from somebody about our
general. Otherwise we'll never find him."

"We must be near the center of our army, and that's where he's likely to
be. Suppose we descend in the field a little to the east of us."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 23rd Dec 2025, 4:20