Evening star. [volume], November 18, 1934, Page 4, Image 78

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
Halfway across France
Private Huggins had to lug
that confounded tea bottle
—and was Huggms mad!
He drove forward, tlodging his head
between the others knees. The Ger
man was using his pistol as a club.
FTERNOON
Illustrated By PAUL KROESEN
DAWN was half an hour off. Only the
sound of restless movement betrayed
the presence of men In the woods.
The ground was wet. It smelled of
rotting bark and leaves.
A hoarse whisper sounded: "Hug
gins! Hey, Huggins!" There was no answer.
The voice, a little higher, said: "Has anybody
seen that nitwit, Huggins?"
A soldier leaning against a tree nudged the
man beside him and said. "The sarge is callin'
you, Hug."
Huggins said, "Let him call. Pretty soon he'll
begin soundin' off too loud and somebody'll
tap him one. There's krauts in these woods.
I can smell "em."
"Whyn't you answer him then?" asked the
other. "Ain't no sense in gettin' his hump up.
He knows you hear him."
Huggins turned his head. "You're Whitley,
ain't you?" he asked. "Well, lemme tell you
something. I was In this Army when you was
a kid. And the first thing they learned me was
to keep my trap shut about another man's grief.
If a dozen generals was soundin' oH in my ear
for another guy I wouldn't hear 'em. You last
longer that way, kid."
A blurred shape loomed In the darkness. Hug
gins turned. "You callin' me, sarge?" he asked.
"You know I been callin' you," the shape
answered. "As if I didn't have a thing to do
except chase you around these woods. The lieut
wants you."
"What for?" asked Huggins.
"How do I know?" answered the sergeant.
"All he told me was to find that gold-brickin"
bum and I knew he meant you."
"Like the devil you don't know what for,"
said Huggins. "He wants me to carry that
bottle again. I swear I don't know what's come
over this army. Afternoon tea! Takin' the
best man in the outfit, bar none, to lug around
a bottle of tea. I ain't no packhorse.
"Look here. Mitts, no foolin'. Can't you get
somebody else to carry it? I
already done lugged it half way
across Prance. Get one of
these kids. Hie lieutll never
know the difference. And some
of these kids drink tea. Honest
they do. I seen 'em."
"Cut it, Hug," said Sergt.
Mallin. "You know I can't do
that. This Army is different.
Tea
hj
WILLIAM A. UCKER
/
Man me urne ι αοη τ Know
where I'm at myself. Come on, let's move."
Huggins fell in behind Mallin. He bore the
sergeant no ill will. They had known each
other for years as privates in the Regular
Army. And Huggins realized that he himself
could have become a sergeant had he wanted
to. But he didn't. All he wanted was to be let
alone, to eat regularly, to have no responsibilities
and to do as little work as he could.
OT that he was a shirker or a coward.
Far from it. It was just that he was a pro
fessional soldier, a man to whom soldiering was
a trade and not a great adventure.
And Huggins understood well enough why
Lieut. Ward had detailed him to carry the heavy
metal tea bottle. It was because the officer
realized that he was soldiering, that he was
following the line of least resistance in declining
to assume responsibility for any one or any
thing except himself.
They came to a small group of men. It was
beginning to grow a little lighter. Huggins
recognized Lieut. Ward.
"We'll be moving in a few minutes, Huggins,"
said the officer. "Get that tea bottle. Bring
it to me at the usual time. I don't know just
where I'll be, but find me. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
Huggins went away to the covered space
where the cook and his current helpers were
applying a minus quantity of heat to a mini
mum of rations. The cook had the canteen-like
bottle ready. A sling made of cartridge belts
had been fashioned for it. He grinned as he
handed it to Huggins.
"Go ahead, laugh, you grease ball," said Hug
gins. "One of these days I'm gonna put a little
somethin' in this bottle and when the lieut
comes around with blood in his eye I'm gonna
tell him you musta done it because I never open
it. What would I want with tea?"
Huggins went back to his platoon. It was
beginning to grow warm and the woods, wet from
recent rains, were steaming in the early light.
Huggins' companions said nothing to him as he
returned to his place. As fellow companions in
misery they secretly sympathized with any man
being crowded by an officer.
After a short delay the line began to move.
Far off the daily business of war went on with a
deep rumble. But directly ahead there was only
silence.
It was hot work, walking and stumbling
along. Huggins could feel the perspiration
streaming from his body. His clothes were
damp and sticky. He demned the war, himself
and Lieut. Ward. But most of all hie cursed
the tea bottle which, for a fully-equipped fight
ing man, was as awkward to carry as a baby.
He began to drop back.
He knew that a second line would follow the
first, looking for stragglers and pushing them
on. But, then, he had the bottle as an alibi for
his slow progress. An officer, held back for some
reason, passed him and disappeared ahead.
"Just askin' for it," said Huggins to himself.
He paused and looked about Ahead he could
see β few men through the open space· In the
trees and blushes, but they spon were out of
sifeht. The ground had begun to slope upward
a little, pitted with shallow gullies. He slid
down a bank and began walking along one or
them. He stopped to detach his own water
bottle and drank deeply. The water was warm.
He went on.
Firing suddenly sounded Just ahead. It
seemed to be off to his left a little. He stopped.
"Thought so," he murmured to himself. "Can't
tell me them krauts would give up a nice piece
of woods like this without a fight. Somebody's
gonna get hurt."
HUGGINGS continued to stand and listen.
There was no doubt that a brisk, if minor,
engagement was opening a few hundred yards
ahead.
There wasn't any question In his mind about
whether be should take part in it. Complaining
about carrying an officer's bottle was one thing.
Ducking a fight was another. Huggins didn't
consider the latter.
What he did consider was how to declare
himself in with a fair chance of escaping with
a whole skin. That bespoke the professional
soldier who realized that dead heroes are of
little value for all immediate purposes.
He was again conscious of thirst. He drained
what water remained in his canteen, but was
still thirsty. He considered the bottle of tea.
Lieut. Ward, he knew, wouldn't deny a thirsty
man a drink. And then there was always a
chance that Ward might never want the tea.
Or anything else in this world. Huggins un
screwed the top from the bottle, lifted it and
drank. He lowered it from his lips, shook it and
drank again. He slung the bottle over his
shoulder and went on.
The gully began to play out as he neared the
crest of the slope. Just before he reached the
skyline he dropped to his hands and knees.
He moved a bush and peered through.
Ahead the ground went down sharply to
border a small stream croesed by a stone bridge.
Bodies lay about the bridge. They wore olive
drab. Firing came from hidden men. Some of
those firing, Huggins knew, wore sea green. The
bodies near the bridge told that.
Huggins began to crawl forward and slid into
another gully. It bore slightly away to the left.
The going was difficult. He paused for a mo
ment and again drank from the tea bottle. The
heat of the sun was beating on him.
The gully narrowed, deepened, and then made
an abrupt turn. Huggins followed it and then
suddenly halted. Even above the rattle of rifle
and machine gun fire he thought he heard the
sound of voices. He listened and then con
cluded he must have been mistaken.
Then a new sound attracted his attention.
He looked back. Coming over the ridge in a
straggling file was a column of men. They
were Americans. Huggins, cursing at the
stupidity of their commanding officer at so ex
posing them, decided to wait where he was.
They would pass, he saw, between him and
the bridgehead. Falling In with them would
be better than going on alohe.
Then, again, hç beard. It—thç sound of voices.
It seemed td come from beneath the ground.·
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A Star Magazine
First-Run Story
He listened attentively. Then he opened the
tea bottle, drained It in long gulps, swung it by
its strap and tossed it ahead. Then he followed
the rattle it made. Once more the sound of a
man speaking. There was no doubt this time.
Not only was a man talking, but he was talking
in German.
Almost before he realized the import of what
he had heard Huggins rounded a slight turn in
the gully. Then he stopped, momentarily
frozen into immobility by the amazing sight
which was presented to his gaze.
A FEW feet ahead of him was » large
' cavity under a water-worn rock. There,
one arm resting on the barrel of a machine
gun, a man was looking at Huggins. On his
head was the round German fatigue cap.
Thought flashed like lightning through Hug
gins' mind. The machine gun, he saw, faced
at an angle away from him and toward the line
which the oncoming American reinforcements
would take as they reared the bridge. He
realized its purpoee there, the old trick of leav
ing a machine gun crew hidden when troops re
tired so that it might Are into the backs of the
advancing enemy.
In about one-half minute that advancing
column of Americans was going to be cut to
pieces by this hidden machine gun.
And then Huggins realized, that the man
whose arm rested on the machine gun was mov
ing fast.
Huggins could have stepped back, but he
didn't. His rifle came up and he fired before
the butt reached his shoulder. Hie moving man
stopped and his head fell on his arm. His face
began to redden.
Huggins lunged forward, automatically throw
ing the bolt of his rifle. A shot roared and he
felt his sleeve twitch. Huggins fired blindly,
straight into the hole. Another shot answered.
A hot Iron seared his shoulder. Then he was
at the machine gun.
He stumbled across the barrel and as he fell
the world rocked in a mighty explosion. He
reached for an arm holding an automatic. He
grabbed it, twisted and pulled down. As he did
be raised his knee. A man screamed in anguish.
Again the world rocked. A third German
was flrlng. Huggins heard the bullet whine oft
the rock near his head. He still held his rifle
in one hand. He Jabbed it like a spear. Some
thing soft pushed against It and then It was
torn from his hand.
He tried to get to his feet and close with the
. other before he eoi^d Are again. Another roar
and à bullet tiurnra along his leg. And then r
his grasping fingers closed about the hi ρε of
the German who was firing.
His shoulder was numb and seemingly useless.
Re was tired, spent, and even as he struggled
for a hold his body flinched in expectation of
another shot. Dut he drove forward, wedging
his head between the other's knees. He strug
gled upward. Something beat on his head. The
German was using the pistol as a club.
Huggins reached upward and clawed at a
hand. He pulled sharply down and backward
and went over, the German beneath him. He
turned like a dog-fighting cat. Knees and fist
struck blindly. His fingers felt the bristles on
an unshaved chin and neck. His fingers sunk in,
closed, tightened. Λ fist smashed him across
the eyes.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. There
was a roaring in his ears end a bright fire before
hts eyes. He was spent. He was in agony. He
couldn't go on. He felt himself slipping. In
one last effort he squeezed his fingers. Then he
seemed to be falling and far away he heard a
voice.
Blackness engulfed him, and for a time he
heard and saw no more.
\A/HEN he awoke Huggins found himself
* lying on a stretcher. His head was
pounding and he knew that it would soon burst.
He was sick with pain and he gradually became
aware of the fact that one of his arms was
strapped to his side. He opened his eyes and
closed them again. Once more he opened them
to the blinding glare and his swimming gaze
could just make out Sergt. Mallin's face.
Despite the pain he tried to grin. "How
they comin', sarge?" he whispered.
Mallin bent over him. "Take it easy, Hug,"
he said. "They knocked the skin off you in a
couple of places. You sure did clean out that
joint? Why didn't you yell for a little help?
Boy, if they had ever turned looee with that
machine gun on us? Ward sent me back for 'em.
They're gettin' ready to give you a dozen
medals. How'd it happen?"
Huggins tried to lift his head, but quickly let
It sink back again. "Listen, sarge," he whis
pered. "Look around, will you and find that
tea bottle. I tossed it somewheres around here."
Mallin bent over. "Here it is," he said.
"Somebody put a bullet through it. Must've
been one of them krauts shoo tin' at you. Well,
you won't have to carry it any more. That's one
break you get."
Huggins looked at the bullet-pierced can
teen. Then, despite the pain, he cursed. He
cursed again. "What is the matter?" asked
Mallin.
"You call that a break?" answered Huggins.
"Where in hell do you think I got the steam to
go after them babies Instead of takin' a quick
sneak over the hill? Right out of that bottle,
that's where. There wasn't no tea in it. That
bottle was full of wine that the lieut was
holdin' out on us. *Just think of me lug gin' it
all over France and never knowin' it till now."
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