Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

14 Bruce himself had ta!-en fiom one of the men. "Look at this, Gordon! What unit did these men belong to?" Bruce took the little book and examined tlie writing on the first page. "Fourteenth Infantry Regiment- Second Vierma Division!" he gasped. "That's Carl's regiment!" Carl sat in the front line trench, with his coat-collar turned up close about his ears, beating hii hands to try and keep them warm. .Near him sat Jan, who had come with him from Vienna, and who now acted as his servant. Jan wa."^ a big fellow, above aix feet in height, and st -ong as a lion, but now pinched with cold. "A pretty fine Christmas this, sir," he growled. "It's Christmas Eve tonight." And Carl smiled a little. "Thank goodness the line's quiet. The English don't want to fight any more than we do just now, from the looks of it." "It's been all quiet since they mopped up that listening party in front of us three or four nights back," Jan replied. He added suddenly: "Haven t got any—any grub to spar?, have you, sir?" "Not so much as a biscuit," Carl answered. " There's plenty of cigar- ettes. I'm sick of smoking." "Cigarettes won't fill a hungry man," Jan answered. " Thoy say the English have got plenty of grub. Why can't we make a raid and get sonic? I'll volunteer for it !" " If it wasn't Christmas Eve I'd lead a raid myself," Carl told him. "But that would mean killing—and we can't kill on a day like this "I could kill some of those English if I thought I'd get food for doing it !" J an snarled. "I'm sick of short rations." "So am I," Carl said slowly. "The English are well fed. They always have been, but " He stood up and looked over the top of the trench to- wards the British lines. Hardly a gun was firing anywhere. No lights showed. There was nothing to see except barbed wire, frost and patches of snow, and the faint glow of trench braziers in the British lines. But Carl could catch the voices of the English ringing on the frosty air, an occasional shout, and tlicn the lilt of some chorus as the Tommies sung a lively tune: "Take me hack to dear old Blighty, Put me on the train for London Town/ Take me over there, drop me any- where, liirmtiif/ham, Leeds or Manchester — / don't caret Oh, I should like to see my best girl " It didn't sound to Carl as though the English were particularly anxious to do any fighting on this Christmas Eve. Thoy seemed to be having a pretty good time, while he and the others went hungry in their freezing trenches. " They've got food—we've got plenty of cigarettes," he murmured. "I wonder if " An idea came to him, and he stood thinking it over, listening to the distant sounds. Presently he picked up a length of board from the trench, then snatched at a piece of chalk which a man had used to scrawl tlie name of a dugout. Ca»l knew English; Bruce had taught him. On the board h~o wrote: "Have you anu food to spare?" ' Give me a bayonet, somebody I" he called, and snatched the weapon as a man held it up, then drove the tip into «bruary l.jth lOliO. BOY'S CINEMA the edge of the board and mounted the fire-step again. Ho held the board high above the trench parapet, switched on his flash- lamp, and directed the beam so that it life up the lettering. Instantly there came the crack of a watchful sentry's rifle, and a bullet whanged through the board. More bullets followed, but Carl still held the board high. The fusillade stopped. He sensed that the British were now reading what he had written. Ho held the board up half a minute longer, and then lowered it. He stared across No iMan's Land, and presently he sighted the white beam of a torch on their side, shining on a length of wood on which someone bad written: "Yes, if you've (jot cigar- ettes!" "See that?" Carl gasped to the men around him. "They say they'll give us food for cigarettes. Give me a couple of packets, somebody, and I'll go over !" "Let me go, sir — they're a treacherous lot !" Jan growled, but Carl caught the cigarettes a man held out to him, and a moment later he was over the parapet. Boldly he stood upright and looked ahead. No bullets came at him, and he saw an Englishman rise from the opposite trench. Slowly Carl went through the barbed wire out into the waste of No Man's Land to meet the figure which was com- ing towards hinl. Five yards from it he stopped. "You have food?" he asked in English. " Yes," came the answer from the other figure, its face concealed by the darkness. The man held out a package, and Carl stopped nearer. " You have an officer—Carl Behrend," the voice went on. "Is he with you?" "I'm It's Bruce !'' Carl gasped. "Carl!" Bruce jumped at him. "I chanced coming out because I could speak your language. How are you ''. How's Paiili ?" " I don't know. I've not seen her. Things are terrible at home—no food— no money !" Carl gasped. "It's " Ho broke off as he saw more British coming from tlieir trench. He turned, and then saw that Jan was leading his own men out, bringing more cigarettes. "They're fraternising—it's all right," Bruce exclaimed. "We shan't shoot if you don't. You haven't been wounded, Carl?" " No, I'm fit enough—but I'm fed up with the war," Carl answered. "I didn't know you were in front of ui !" "I knew your unit was here," Bruce said. "I raided one of your listening posts the other night." "That, was you, their!" Carl gasped. He peered into Bruce's fac(> and went on: " It's the same old Bruce ! It's good to sec you again !" "And to see you !" Bruce caught his hand and wrung it. "And you don't know if Pauli's all right?" "No, I got an hour's leave in Vienna, but I couldn't trace her," Carl answered. " I found my father, but that was all. He's doing all right—fit and well." They talked in the middle of No Man's Land, these two old friends who wore file uniforms of their warring countries, while all around them British Tommies, imbued with the spirit of C^hristmdstide, swapped food for cigarettes and souvenirs. And then there came a scurrying rush on the air with the fierce whine of :i Every Tuesday shell. It burst in the heart of the waste ground, scattering its droning frag- ments, felling men and filling the air with smoke. _ Another shell came, and another. Some artillery observer had seen move- ments in No Man's Land, and he was calling on his batteries to fire. More gunners joined in; British and German and the Au.'5trian guns attached to Carl's division. The uniformod figures broke and scat- tered, running back to their trenches. Carl piuted from Bruce and scurried back the way he had come, Jan at his side. It was as they ran that there came a mad blast of sound on the air, and a shell burst near them. Carl saw its rod heart, saw torn earth flying, hoard tlie colossal crash of .it—and then felt as though he were hit a million times at once. He fell backwards, his sight misted and his head spiiming, Ids whole body nunibod from the shock of awful wounds. Through the glare of other shells bursting near he saw Jan; the big man was staggering and reeling blindly, pawing the air until another shell-l)urot hid him from sight. Lights flashed across Carl's eyes. He tried to get up, but he could not move. Blackness swamped across his brain, and he felt that ho was dying. He tried to call out, but no sound would come. He forced away the mistiness that cloaked his vision, but it swirled bad: again, and through it all he thought he heard Bruce calling his name. A moment aftc the face of his old friend seemed to float before his eyes. Carl tried to smile, then sank to oblivion. Shelt-Shock. IN a little garret, with windows broken and bare furnishings, Pauli sat, sewing alone. There was no fire in the grate; it wms a month after Christmas, and she tried to tell herself that warm spring was near, and that she did not feel cold. The door opened, and her father came in. I'rofossor Arndt was gaunt and thin, and he had sold his overcoat to buy an egg, which he carried wrapped in a paper packing. He carried it more gently and more carefully than he would have done a king's crown. "An egg, Pauli !" he called. "Now we'll have a feast, my girl ! It's many a month since I had such luck 1" "Then you eat it, father," said Pauli. "I'm—I'm not hungry." "We'll share it," the professor said, and Pauli hurried to the stove, gather- ing up the sticks she had placed there in readiness to cook whatever food her father might bring home. The professor had lost his job at the university. He did not believe in war. Ho thought it was all mad foolishness, and he said so. Others did not agree with him; they'd hooted him out of the place. He had sold all his books and his little treasures. Ho had moved froin his house to this attic. Pauli had tried to get work, but she wasn't strong enough to be a washerwoman; she had been trained to do nothing in par- ticular, and there were many like her in Vienna these days. No letters had come from Carl. Th? authorities would not let the soldiers at the front write home now, because Ger- many and Austria weie losing the war, and they did not want the troops to know what hardships the folk at home were suffering. For thnt egg the professor had sold (Continued on page 27.)