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The attack was, indeed, a matter of common anticipation, and its adoption suggested that Ludendorff was getting to the end of his expedients. The Americans at Cantigny set a western, and the French success at Lagache an eastern limit to its front; and thus confined it advanced no more than six miles in four days.
Even General Pershing would not have been permitted to do that. Beyond the enemy second line trench the road led straight into Cantigny and Tom could see the houses in the distance. Continuous firing was to be heard there and he supposed that the Germans, routed from their trenches, were making a stand in the village and in the high ground beyond it.
He knew that somewhere back of the village was the artillery, and he believed that the village of Cantigny stood in the same relation to the German trenches that this billet village stood to the Allied trenches; that is, that it was just behind the German lines and that the German artillery was still farther back.
No one knew, no one ever would know, of the anxiety and suspense which Tom Slade experienced in that fateful march through the country above Cantigny.
For months France had been awaiting American assistance. A year before the French had seen Pershing and the first few doughboys, but the long delay had caused them to lose the confidence which that sight had aroused. Now suddenly came the news that the Americans were arriving in tremendous numbers and from Cantigny, north and south along the lines, spread the report: "These men will fight."
And just in that moment there flashed into Tom's mind the picture of that weary, perspiring boy in khaki down in captured Cantigny, who had mopped his forehead, saying, "A drink of water would go good now." It had been a pet saying of Tom's scoutmaster back in America that you should wait long enough to make up your mind and not one second longer.
The telephone apparatus was fastened to a tree and Tom heard the words of the speaker as he tried to get into communication with the village which lay back across that shell-torn, trench-crossed area which they had traversed. At last he heard those thrilling words which carried much farther than the length of the sinuous wire: "Hello, this is Cantigny."
"I never thought I'd see you here," said Tom, his face lighting up to an unusual degree. "I'm a dispatch-rider now. I just rode from Cantigny. "A spy, kind of, eh?" "And I hope the Texas Pioneer didn't land yet, that's one sure thing." "It's one sure thing that she'll dock in about fifteen minutes, Tommy," said Mr. Conne rising. "Come inside and deliver your message.
"Watch the roads carefully as we go, so you can get back all right. Noise don't bother you?" "No, I'm used to artillery I mean the noise," said Tom. "You probably won't have much to do unless in an emergency. If Fritzie cuts the wire or it should get tangled and we couldn't reach the airmen quick enough you'd have to beat it back. There's two roads out of Cantigny. Remember to take the south one.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," said Tom. "I don't suppose I'll go over the top, I'd like to go to Cantigny." "Never mind, they'll bring it back to you. Did you know the old gent is here?" "Pershing?" "Yup. Going to run the show himself." "Are you going?" "Not as far as I know. I was in the orchestra front row last week. Got a touch of trench fever." "D'you mean the front line trenches?"
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