Army Boys in France or, From Training Camp to Trenches   By: Homer Randall

Army Boys in France

OR

From Training Camp to Trenches

BY

HOMER RANDALL

Author of "Army Boys in the French Trenches" and "Army Boys on the Firing Line"

THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.

CLEVELAND, O. NEW YORK, N. Y.

Made in U. S. A.

COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY

GEORGE SULLY & COMPANY

PRESS OF

THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.

CLEVELAND

Made in U. S. A.

ARMY BOYS IN FRANCE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I The Bugle Calls II A Remorseless Enemy III The Gathering Storm IV War V A Vandal Punished VI The Die Is Cast VII For Love of Country VIII Off to Camp IX A New Life X Instruments of Death XI Nick Rabig Turns Up XII For France XIII The Lurking Peril XIV The War Swept Land XV Within the Sound of Guns XVI The Airship Raid XVII The Baptism of Fire XVIII A Grim Reality XIX Nick Rabig Under Arrest XX A Rattling Bout XXI Paying a Debt XXII A Promise of Help XXIII Facing the Hun XXIV In No Man's Land XXV A Gallant Exploit

ARMY BOYS IN FRANCE

CHAPTER I

THE BUGLE CALLS

"Looks like war, fellows!" exclaimed Frank Sheldon, as, on a cold March morning he came briskly into the business house where he was employed, and slipped off his overcoat.

"Oh, I don't know," responded Bart Raymond, Frank's special chum. "It's looked like war ever since the Lusitania was sunk, but we haven't got our fighting clothes on yet. The American eagle keeps on cooing like a dove."

"He's waking up now though," asserted Frank confidently, "and pretty soon he'll begin to scream. And when he does there'll be trouble for the Kaiser."

"He isn't worrying much about us," put in Tom Bradford. "He figures that his U boats will do the trick long before we get ready to fight. Sometimes I think he's pretty nearly right too. They're sinking ships right and left. They got three of them yesterday, and one was a liner of more than ten thousand tons."

"That's bad," agreed Frank. "But the worst thing about it is that one of the three was an American ship. As long as they sank only French and English vessels, it might be said that it was none of our business, although it has always seemed to me a cruel and cowardly way of fighting. But when they get after Uncle Sam's boats it's time for us to get busy."

"Johnny get your gun! get your gun!" chanted "Reddy," the irrepressible office boy.

"What's the use of talking," said Bart disgustedly. "They'll cook up some excuse about not knowing that it was an American ship, and we'll swallow the excuse and pretend to believe it. One lie more or less is nothing to a nation that calls a treaty a scrap of paper."

"It wasn't that way in the old days," remarked old Peterson, the head bookkeeper, who had been at the "Bloody Angle" when Pickett led the charge at Gettysburg. "Men were men then and ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Americans didn't need a swift kick then to get them into action."

He shook his gray head mournfully at the thought of the evil days on which his country had fallen.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Peterson," replied Frank confidently. "America is just as sound at heart as ever she was. Just let the bugle call and a million men will answer. We'll raise an army in less than no time."

"Well, perhaps so," admitted Peterson half grudgingly. "But even if we did they'd be raw troops and stand no chance against trained soldiers. They'd only be food for cannon. It takes at least a year to make a soldier. And before we could get on the firing line the Germans might have France and England licked to a frazzle."

"Not much chance of that," put in Tom. "It's more likely to be the other way. What's Hindenburg doing now but retreating?"