There must be many other bridges over the
Marne, but he believed that the German armies had now crossed it, and
would devote their energy to a new attack. He was squarely between the
lines and he did not see any chance to escape until darkness.
He looked up and saw a bright sun and blue skies. Night was distant, and
so far as he was concerned it might be a year away. If two armies were
firing shells directly at a man they must hit him in an hour or two, and
if not, a polar stream such as the Marne had now become would certainly
freeze him to death. He had no idea French rivers could be so cold. The
Marne must be fed by a whole flock of glaciers.
His teeth began to chatter violently, and then he took stern hold of
himself. He felt that he was allowing his imagination to run away with
him, and he rebuked John Scott sternly and often for such foolishness.
He tried to get some warmth into his veins by jumping up and down in the
water, but it was of little avail. Yet he stood it another hour. Then he
made one more long and critical examination of the ground.
Shells were now screaming high overhead, but nobody was in sight. He
judged that it was now an artillery battle, with the foes perhaps three
or four miles apart, and, leaving the willows, he crept out upon the
bank. It was the side held by the Germans, but he knew that if he
attempted to swim the river to the other bank he would be taken with
cramps and would drown.
There was a little patch of long grass about ten yards from the river,
and, crawling to it, he lay down.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173