Читать книгу Grace Harlowe with the American Army on the Rhine - Chase Josephine - Страница 2

WHEN Mrs. Smythe and Grace came to the surface, the fight had been all taken out of the supervisor. She was limp, choking and gasping, but not in a serious condition, as the Overton girl observed, though the water was chill and serious consequences might follow the wetting, there being no way to secure dry clothing until they arrived at the end of the day’s march, a few miles further on.

“You will be all right now,” comforted Grace. “Don’t fight. Give me half a chance to get you ashore. I’m sorry, Mrs. Smythe. The water is not over our heads, so please try to walk in.”

The woman screamed and choked some more, so Grace grasped her by the collar of her blouse and began swimming toward shore with her. They had not gone more than half of the way, when doughboys who had witnessed the accident plunged into the river and went to the rescue. Grace turned over her burden to them quite willingly, but waved the soldiers aside when they offered to assist her. The men had their hands full in getting the supervisor ashore, where they laid her down on the bank and shook her until she was able to sit up.

“Please wring the water out of me, Grace,” begged the disheveled J. Elfreda Briggs, who was shivering.

“That will not help any. Keep moving, is my advice. Were you hurt, Elfreda?”

“My feelings were very much hurt. Grace Harlowe, you are the original trouble-maker. I blame myself wholly in this matter, not you at all, for I should have known better than to remain in that car for an instant after I saw that look in your eyes. It was a perfectly safe intimation that something terrible was about to occur.”

“There’s the lieutenant talking with Mrs. Smythe. I must see what she has to say.”

“Probably recommending you for the Congressional Medal,” observed Miss Briggs sourly.

Mrs. Smythe was sitting on the bank wringing the water out of her blouse when Grace came up, the lieutenant standing by and apparently not knowing what he should do in the circumstances. The supervisor’s hair was down over her shoulders and she was half crying, half raging. Grace was filled with regret.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Smythe,” she said, bending over the supervisor. “May I assist you to your feet? You must not sit here, you know. The ground is cold and you are very wet.”

Mrs. Chadsey Smythe blinked at the Overton girl and struggled for words. The words finally came, a torrent of them.

“She did it!” screamed the woman. “She did it on purpose! She set out to mur – ”

“Mrs. Smythe, you know better than that,” rebuked Grace.

“Arrest that woman!” commanded Mrs. Smythe.

“Well, I – I don’t know about that. Do you wish to make a charge against her, Madame?”

“Of course. She threw me into the river.”

“But,” protested the officer, “she did no more to you than she did to herself and the others in the car. Of course you may make a complaint to the captain, or to your superior whoever he or she may be, but I do not think this woman can be arrested, because the wreck plainly was an accident.”

“It was not! I tell you she did it on purpose!”

The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders.

“I will inform my superior, Captain Rowland,” answered the lieutenant gravely. “You are – ”

“Mrs. Chadsey Smythe, in command of the welfare workers.”

The officer turned to Grace inquiringly.

“Mrs. Grace Gray, former ambulance driver on the western front, now a welfare worker on the march to the Rhine, sir,” answered Grace meekly, out of the corners of her eyes observing that the lieutenant was passing a hand over his face, to hide the grin that had appeared there.

“Anything to say, Mrs. Gray?”

“I think not, sir, except that we should be moving.”

“Yes, get me a car at once, if you will be so good,” urged Mrs. Smythe.

“If I may offer a suggestion, sir, I do not think it would be prudent for either Mrs. Smythe or the others to ride in. We would all be chilled through and on the verge of pneumonia. My advice, if I may offer it, would be that we walk.”

“Walk? Never!” exclaimed the supervisor. “I demand a car. It is my right to make such a demand.”

“I fear I cannot give you a car. The best I can possibly do is to put you on a truck, but I agree with Mrs. Gray that it would be much wiser for you to walk, all of you.”

“A truck!” moaned the woman. “I’ll walk, thank you. It is much more dignified than being jounced about on an army truck. No army truck for me, thank you.”

“Very good. I will see to it that the belongings of the party are sent in so that you may have change of clothing as soon as we reach the end of the day’s march.”

“Do I understand that you will do nothing to this woman?” demanded Mrs. Smythe.

“I will report the matter to Captain Rowland. May I assist you up the bank?” he offered politely.

Mrs. Smythe accepted with all the grace she could assume. Grace’s face wore a serious expression as she looked at the car hanging over the edge of the bridge.

“I could do no worse myself,” observed Miss Briggs to her companion.

“I doubt if I could equal that achievement,” agreed Grace. “That woman is going to make trouble for me, and I am inclined to think that I deserve all that she will try to give me. You know it was an accident, Elfreda?”

“An accident? It was that! Why, the train wreck on our way to Paris with the wounded doughboys was no more of an accident than this. What you mean to say is that you did not do it on purpose. Personally, Elfreda Briggs has her own views on that phase of the matter.”

“Elfreda!” rebuked Grace.

“However, it is some satisfaction to see our beloved superior taking the same medicine that we are taking; walking for our health, as it were.”

Mrs. Smythe was making heavy weather of it, and Grace, filled with compassion, stepped up to her and linked an arm within that of the supervisor.

“Please permit me to assist you along,” she urged gently.

Mrs. Smythe threw off Grace’s arm angrily.

“Be good enough to keep your hands off. I wish nothing whatever to do with you.”

“Mrs. Smythe, please do not speak to me in that tone. I feel much worse about it than you possibly can, and I blame myself, even if that truck driver did crowd me into the railing. Won’t you please forgive me?”

“You will learn later what I propose to do to you, driver. Do not forget that you are speaking to your superior officer and not to your equal.”

“I had suspected something of the sort myself,” answered the Overton girl, drawing herself up and moving on ahead at a rapid stride.

“Chad spoke the truth for once,” chuckled Miss Briggs. “I wonder if she realizes what she said? That is too good to keep. I shall have to tell the girls about that. Do you really think she will do something to you?”

“I would not be at all surprised.”

“In that event remember that I am a lawyer, and that I invite myself to defend you,” declared Elfreda eloquently. “This going is the toughest experience I have ever had.”

Two hours before dark they reached their destination, which proved to be the little city of Etain, a deserted city, not a living thing being in sight there when the advance guard reached the place. The city was pretty well pounded to pieces. For a long time before the armistice was signed those of the inhabitants who had clung to their homes lived in holes in the ground. It was a cheerless place, and the cellar where the welfare workers were berthed was more than dismal.

The belongings of Grace and her party were brought in by a Chinaman, who grinned as he put the first bundle down, and was rewarded by a smile from Grace. He did not speak when he entered the first time, but upon the second trip he straightened up and saluted, which Grace returned snappily.

“Missie plenty fine dliver, a-la,” observed the Chinaman.

“Not very, I fear. You mean my running into the bridge?”

“Les.”

“What is your name?”

“Won Lue.”

“Belong to the labor battalion?”

“Les. Plenty blad men b’long labor blattalion,” observed Won.

“So I have heard, but surely you are not a bad man, Won?”

He shook his head with emphasis.

“Me good Chinaman, a-la.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

“Well, I never,” declared Elfreda Briggs. “One would think you and Won were very old friends. Better look out for those oily Orientals. They are not to be trusted.”

“So I have been told,” replied Grace absently. “I wonder where Mrs. Smythe has taken herself. Ah, here comes one of her aides.”

The young woman said she had come for the supervisor’s bags, having been directed there by the officer who had come to their assistance on the river bank.

“I trust Mrs. Smythe is feeling better,” said Grace with a voice full of sympathy. “You are Miss Cahill, I believe?”

“Yes. Madame is in high temper because they have put her in a cellar. The lieutenant told her she was in luck that she didn’t have to wrap herself up in a blanket and sleep on the ground, which did not serve to improve her temper. I wish we might stay here with you two ladies.”

“Why not come with us, then?” urged Grace.

“The supervisor wouldn’t let me. However, I am going to request that we be relieved some way.”

“Better go through with it until we get to the Rhine,” advised Grace. “Something may develop that will make a change possible. If I can assist you to that end you may depend upon me to do so.”

“Thank you. May – may I tell you something, Mrs. Gray?”

Grace nodded smilingly.

“Mrs. Smythe, I fear, is going to make you a lot of trouble. She is making all sorts of threats of what she is going to do and – ”

“If she doesn’t succeed any better than she has thus far, there won’t be much left of her,” interjected Miss Briggs. “How long have you been with her?”

“Only since we started for the Rhine. We were directed from headquarters to join out with the outfit to act as her assistants, Miss O’Leary and myself, but we have had about enough of it already. She is making servants of us and – ”

“In wartime we must do many things that we don’t care to do,” suggested Grace. “We are still at war with the Huns, so we must take whatever comes to us, doing our best to keep our heads level.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gray. You make me feel better. I shall do my best not to lose my temper, but really I do not see how such a woman could be chosen for our important work. I call it a rank injustice.”

“That’s what the doughboys say about their treatment,” smiled Grace. “C’est la guerre (it is war). Come in to see us whenever you can. So few of us women are out here that we should do what we can to make it pleasant for one another.”

Miss Cahill thanked her and went out, after which the two Overton girls changed their wrinkled uniforms, put on dry underwear and sat down each before a steel trench mirror to do her hair. This proceeding occupied all their time up to the mess hour, when they went out with their kits to draw their evening meal. Doughboys made way for them and insisted on their taking a place at the front of the line, but Grace smilingly declined to do anything of the sort.

Most of the men in that division had seen the welfare women and knew by that time who they were, for a woman at the front was too rare a sight not to attract attention. Then, too, there were among them men who either knew of their own knowledge what Grace Harlowe had accomplished or had heard the story from others. Her smash on the bridge was already known to several regiments, and when the two girls appeared, looking as fresh and well-groomed as if they had been serving in Paris rather than out at the front, the doughboys wondered and admired.

Grace and Elfreda, having drawn their rations, returned to their cellar, where, to their surprise, they found a bundle of fagots, which some considerate person had left for them.

“Isn’t that fine? I wonder who gave the wood to us?” cried Grace. “Now we can brew some tea. Get the tea ready while I start the fire. Well, I do declare, here is a can of water, and in a petrol can too. J. Elfreda, have you an admirer? Have you been deceiving me?”

“If I have he isn’t a Chinaman,” retorted Miss Briggs.

“Thank you.”

The cellar was soon filled with smoke, but neither girl cared so long as tea was to be the result. After finishing the meal they began considering where they were going to sleep. There were two cots in the cellar, cots without springs, rough boards having been nailed on, but no mattress.

“Not very inviting, but I for one shall be able to sleep soundly, I know,” declared Grace. “When we get to the Rhine we probably shall be billeted in a house where we can have ordinary comforts. I know I shall have difficulty in accustoming myself to civilized life again, won’t you, J. Elfreda?”

“Not so that you could notice it,” was Miss Briggs’ brief reply. “I – ”

“Hulloa the cellar!” shouted a voice from above.

“Enter,” answered Grace.

A sergeant of infantry crunched in, coughed as he inhaled the smoke, and, snapping to attention, saluted, which both girls returned.

“What is it, Sergeant?” asked Grace.

“Captain Rowland wishes you to report at his headquarters at half past seven o’clock, Madame.”

“Very good, Sergeant. Where are the captain’s headquarters?”

“Four dumps down the street from here, to the right as you go out, down one flight to the cellar.”

“Thank you. Will you have a nip of tea? We still have some left.”

The sergeant accepted a tin-cup of tea, gulped it down, thanked them, and saluting tramped out.

“Queer fellows those doughboys,” murmured Grace. “All gold, but odd josies every one of them.”

“Is that what you are thinking of? Were I in your place I should be thinking of what I am going to say to Captain Rowland this evening. This is the summons I have been waiting for. You understand what this means, do you not, Grace?”

“I presume so. However, I will cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“Humph! That is more than you did to-day,” grumbled J. Elfreda Briggs.

Half an hour later, after a final look into the steel mirror, Grace, accompanied by Miss Briggs, left the cellar and started for Captain Rowland’s headquarters, Grace having first pinned her croix de guerre and Distinguished Service Cross to her breast. She had neglected to wear them in the confusion of the start that morning, though being supposed to wear them at all times when in uniform.