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Page 51
When a gambler is in the middle of a winning streak, when an
athlete feels he has the race in his own hands, when a business
man has all but closed the deal that means fortune to him--at
such crises it is maddening to be halted at the very verge of
triumph. But to soldiers who, after months of reverses, at last
have their hated foe on the run, such a check does odd things to
temper and to nerves.
In such plight were the men of the "Here-We-Comes," on this late
afternoon. Mahan and Vivier were too seasoned and too sane to
give way to the bursts of temper and the swirls of blasphemy that
swayed so many of their comrades. Nevertheless they were glum and
silent and had no heart for jolly welcomings,--even to so dear a
friend as Bruce.
Experience told them that a square meal would work miracles in
the way of calming and bracing them. Hence, apart from stark
hunger, their interest in the cooking of supper.
Bruce was too much a philosopher--and not devoted enough to his
soldier friends--to be hurt at the lack of warmth in the
greeting. With the air of an epicure, he sniffed at the contents
of one of the kitchen's bubbling kettles. Then he walked off and
curled himself comfortably on a pile of bedding, there to rest
until supper should be ready.
Several times, as he lay there, soldiers passed and repassed. One
or two of them snapped their fingers at the dog or even stooped,
in passing, to stroke his head. But on the faces of all of them
was unrest and a certain wolfish eagerness, which precluded
playing with pets at such a time. The hot zest of the man-hunt
was upon them. It was gnawing in the veins of the newest recruit,
ever, as in the heart of the usually self-contained colonel of
the regiment.
The colonel, in fact, had been so carried away by the joy of
seeing his men drive the hated graycoats before them that day
that he had overstepped the spirit of his own orders from the
division commander.
In brief, he had made no effort to "dress" his command, in the
advance, upon the regiments to either side of it. As a result,
when the signal to bivouac for the night was given, the "Here-We-
Comes" were something like a mile ahead of the regiment which
should have been at their immediate right, and nearly two miles
in front of the brigade at their left.
In other words, the "Here-We-Comes" now occupied a salient of
their own, ahead of the rest of the FrancoAmerican line. It was
in rebuke for this bit of good progress and bad tactics that the
division commander had written to the colonel, in the dispatch
which Bruce had brought.
German airmen, sailing far above, and dodging as best they could
the charges of the Allied 'planes, had just noted that the "Here-
We-Comes" "salient" was really no salient at all. So far had it
advanced that, for the moment, it was out of touch with the rest
of the division. It was, indeed, in an excellent position to be
cut off and demolished by a dashing nightattack. And a report to
this effect was delivered to a fumingly distracted German major
general, who yearned for a chance to atone in some way for the
day's shameful reverses.
"If they hadn't halted us and made us call it a day, just as we
were getting into our stride," loudly grumbled one Yankee private
to another as the two clumped up to the kitchen, "we'd have been
in Fere-en-Tardenois by now. What lazy guy is running this drive,
anyhow?"
"The same lazy guy that will stick you into the hoosgow for
insubordination and leave you to do your bit there while the rest
of us stroll on to Berlin!" snapped Top-Sergeant Mahan, wheeling
upon the grumbler. "Till you learn how to obey orders without
grouching, it isn't up to you to knock wiser men. Shut up!"
Though Mahan's tone of reproof was professionally harsh, his
spirit was not in his words. And the silenced private knew it. He
knew, too, that the top-sergeant was as savage over the early
halt as were the rest of the men.
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