bruce(布鲁斯)-第13节
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except under special order。 These dogsor the pick of themwere destined
for work at the front。 The bark of a dog has a carrying quality greater than
the combined shouting of ten men。 It is the last sound to follow a
balloonist； after he has risen above the reach of all other earth…noises。
Hence； a chance bark； rising through the night to where some enemy
airman soared with engines turned off； might well lead to the bombing of
hitherto unlocated trenches or detachment…camps。 For this and divers other
reasons； the first lesson taught to arriving wardogs was to abstain from
barking。
The dogs were divided； roughly； by breeds； as regarded the line of
training assigned to them。 The collies were taught courier… work。 The
Airedales； too；hideous； cruel； snake…headed；were used as couriers； as
well as to bear Red Cross supplies and to hunt for the wounded。 The gaunt
and wolflike police dogs were pressed into the two latter tasks； and were
taught listening…post duty。 And so on through all available breeds；
including the stolidly wise Old English sheepdogs who were to prove
invaluable in finding and succoring and reporting the wounded；down to
the humble terriers and mongrels who were taught to rid trenches of
vermin。
Everywhere was quiet efficiency and tirelessly patient and skillful
work on the part of the trainers。 For Britain's best dog men had been
recruited for service here。 On the perfection of their charges' training
might depend the fate of many thousand gallant soldiers。 Wherefore； the
training was perfect。
Hundreds of dogs proved stupid or unreliable or gun…shy or too easily
confused in moments of stress。 These were weeded out； continually； and
shipped back to the masters who had proffered them。
Others developed with amazing speed and cleverness； grasping their
profession as could few human soldiers。 And Bruce； lonely and heartsore；
yet throwing himself into his labors with all the zest of the best
thoroughbred type；was one of this group。
His early teachings now stood him in good stead。 What once had been
a jolly game； for his own amusement and that of the Mistress and the
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Master； was now his life…work。 Steadily his trainer wrought over him；
bringing out latent abilities that would have dumfounded his earliest
teachers； steadying and directing the gayly dashing intelligence；
upbuilding and rounding out all his native gifts。
A dog of Bruce's rare type made up to the trainers for the dullness of
their average pupils。 He learned with bewildering ease。 He never forgot a
lesson once taught。
No； the Mistress need not have interceded to save him from beating。
As soon would an impresario think of thrashing Caruso or
Paderewski as would Bruce's glum Scottish trainer have laid whip to
this best pupil of his。 Life was bare and strict for Bruce。 But life was never
unkind to him； in these first months of exile from The Place。 And； bit by
bit； he began to take a joy in his work。
Not for a day；perhaps not for an hour； did the big collie forget the
home of his babyhood or those he had delighted to worship； there。 And the
look of sadness in his dark eyes became a settled aspect。 Yet； here； there
was much to interest and to excite him。 And he grew to look forward with
pleasure to his daily lessons。
At the end of three months； he was shipped to France。 There his
seemingly aimless studies at the training camp were put to active use。
* * * * * * * * * *
At the foot of the long Flanders hill…slope the 〃Here…We…Come〃
Regiment； of mixed American and French infantry； held a caterpillar…
shaped line of trenches。
To the right； a few hundred yards away； was posted a Lancashire
regiment； supported by a battalion from Cornwall。 On the left were two
French regiments。 In front； facing the hill…slope and not a half…mile distant；
was the geometric arrangement of sandbags that marked the contour of the
German first…line trenches。
The hill behind them； the boches in front of them； French and British
troops on either side of themthe Here…We…Comes were helping to defend
what was known as a 〃quiet' sector。 Behind the hill； and on loftier heights
far to the rear； the Allied artillery was posted。 Somewhere in the same
general locality lay a division of British reserves。
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Bruce
It is almost a waste of words to have described thus the surroundings
of the Here…We…Comes。 For； with no warning at all； those entire
surroundings were about to be changed。
Ludendorff and his little playmates were just then engaged in the
congenial sport of delivering unexpected blows at various successive
points of the Allied line； in an effort to find some spot that was soft
enough to cave in under the impact and let through a horde of gray…clad
Huns。 And though none of the defenders knew it； this 〃quiet〃 sector had
been chosen for such a minor blow。
The men in higher command； back there behind the hill crest； had a
belated inkling； though； of a proposed attack on the lightly defended front
trenches。 For the Allied airplanes which drifted in the upper heavens like a
scattered handful of dragon…flies were not drifting there aimlessly。 They
were the eyes of the snakelike columns that crawled so blindly on the
scarred brown surface of the earth。 And those 〃eyes〃 had discerned the
massing of a force behind the German line had discerned and had duly
reported it。
The attack might come in a day。 It might not come in a week。 But it
was comingunless the behind…the…lines preparations were a gigantic
feint。
A quiet dawn； in the quiet trenches of the quiet sector。 Desultory
artillery and somewhat less desultory sniping had prevailed throughout the
night； and at daybreak； but nothing out of the ordinary。
Two men on listening…post had been shot； and so had an overcurious
sentry who peeped just an inch too far above a parapet。 A shell had burst in
a trench； knocking the telephone connection out of gear and half burying a
squad of sleepers under a lot of earth。 Otherwise； things were drowsily
dull。
In a dugout sprawled Top…Sergeant Mahan；formerly of Uncle Sam's
regular army； playing an uninspiring game of poker with Sergeant Dale of
his company and Sergeant Vivier of the French infantry。 The Frenchman
was slow in learning poker's mysteries。
And； anyway； all three men were temporarily penniless and were
forced to play for I。O。U'swhich is stupid sport； at best。
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So when； from the German line； came a quick sputt…sputt…sputt from a
half…dozen sharpshooters' rifles； all three men looked up from their
desultory game in real interest。 Mahan got to his feet with a grunt。
〃Some other fool has been trying to see how far he can rubber above
the sandbags without drawing boche fire；〃 he hazarded； starting out to
investigate。 〃It's a miracle to me how a boche bullet can go through heads
that are so full of first…quality ivory as those rubberers'。〃
But Mahan's strictures were quite unwarranted。 The sharpshooters
were not firing at the parapet。 Their scattering shots were flying high； and
hitting against the slope of the hill behind the trenches。
Adown this shellpocked hillside； as Mahan and the other disturbed
idlers gazed； came cantering a huge dark…brown…and… white collie。 The
morning wind stirred the black stippling that edged his tawny fur； showing
the gold…gray undercoat beneath it。 His white chest was like a snowdrift；
and offered a fine mark for the German rifles。 A bullet or two sang
whiningly past his gayly u
