Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 57: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Sergeant panted a while until he got his breath back and then began to crawl from shell hole to shell hole, until he should come up with the infantry. Nell had about a thousand yards to cover. This may not seem to be a very great distance, but when a man must make it on his stomach, crawling from shell hole to shell hole, and waiting in the bottom of each one until the fire lets up for a second or two, it takes an unbelievable length of time. The infantry had made considerable ad- vance. This the Germans discovered, stopped trying to prevent the crossing of troops along the river and concentrated their fire on the men in the field. The ad- vance was supported locally by machine- gun, one-pounder and Stokes mortar, and the artillery still pounded the German positions. However, the enemy had destroyed every bridge or makeshift as fast as it was put up, and bridge building had finally stopped, because there was no more material, nor were there any engineers to put it up if there had been. What few reserves had been left across the river had been forced to come over by wading, or by paddling themselves across on the wreckage of the bridges. Nell had not gone very far before he found the backwash of the attack. First he came upon a machine-gun, set up and evidently in working order, but abandoned. Then he found rifles, blouses, rocket pistols, helmets, water-soaked gas-masks, a pair of field glasses with one side shot away, a broken stretcher. Scattered among the wreckage were the dead, a great many of them. “Theyall had on their gas masks, and Nell wondered if they had been in the same hape as his. He had got a bullet through the canister when the patrol had been shot up and his subsequent wading in the river had allowed the water to get in and make cake out of the contents, effectually closing the intake valve, so that when he had put on his mask he nearly smothered before he could get it off again. There were occasional wounded in the shell holes, but they were unable to con- verse through their masks, even had they had the inclination. “T’d better get a mask,” thought Nell, “or Tl be ending my mission right here. I’ve got a hunch that all I’ll get out of this wild rush to the front will be a pat on the of Cavalry 39 back with a spade, but there’s no use in bringing it on.” He looked around the field and sure enough saw a gas mask. A shell covered him with dirt, but he paid it no heed. He had ceased to notice either the shriek and clang of shells, or the whine and crack of bullets any more than a traveler on a train is conscious of the whir of the wheels be- neath him. Had he had more experience he would have known that a gas-mask that was thrown away must be useless, for it was the last thing a soldier would part with. This particular gas-mask was full of somebody’s lunch. Nell rolled sidewise into a shell hole. It was deeper and the side showed signs of having been squared with a shovel. Nell turned his head and discovered that there were several Germans in the hole, but they were harmless. They must have been a machine-gun crew, but their gun was gone. The men that had killed them had taken the gun along to use in the attack. These Germans also had on masks. The German mask was made of leather, a cone- shaped affair, with a little gadget like the bottom part of a kerosene lantern at the point of the cone. This gadget contained the material that neutralized the gas. The apparatus was suspended from the wearer’s face and not tied around his neck and be- hind his back as the American mask was. It was therefore only necessary to remove the German’s helmet to get his mask off. This Nell did. Gas is nothing to be squeam- ish with, and it is said of the British that they took more desperate measures than this in the early days when gas was first used and they had no masks to protect them- selves against it. A few holes beyond, Nell came on a trench mortar, which its crew were swabbing out. “Where’s the man in command of this shebeen?”’ cried Nell, lifting his mask. The mortar gunners made gestures of ignorance with their hands. Nell there- upon went his way. He had instinctively clung to his rifle all this time, but his arm was at the point of falling off from fatigue and finally he let the rifle go. There were lots of them lying around and he could pick one up almost anywhere if he needed one. Without his rifle he found he could roll like a barrel, which he did, and after explor- ing about six holes, found one where three Co DOOK AMUC CO