Grace Harlowe with the American Army on the Rhine

CHAPTER VIII

HUNLAND IS REACHED AT LAST

“WHAT’S all this row about?” demanded a gruff voice, and a heavy hand was laid on Grace Harlowe’s shoulder.

“Don’t get excited, Buddy,” answered Grace laughingly.

“Woman!” he exclaimed.

“Two of them,” added another M. P. “This needs investigation.”

“Just a moment, please. I – ”

“Arrest those persons, whoever they are. They were trying to break into this house!” shouted Mrs. Smythe.

“Listen to me, Buddies, then arrest us if you think best. These were our billets, but while we were out to dinner with some friends, officers (she accentuated the word), our belongings were thrown into the street and the door barred against us. The woman who did it is Mrs. Smythe, supervisor of the welfare workers with the Third Army. We are both welfare workers.”

“What’s your name?” demanded the M. P. a little less gruffly.

“Grace Harlowe Gray, formerly ambulance driver on the western front.”

“You don’t say!” Striding over to the door, the M. P. struck it a blow with his club. “Open that door or I’ll beat it down!” he ordered.

“No, no,” begged Grace, laying a restraining hand on his arm. “You must not do that, Buddy. Remember there are women in there behind the barred door. If you break it down you will find yourself in serious difficulties. You were going to arrest us?” she asked teasingly, leading him away from the door.

“Arrest nothing. What’s that Chink doing against the wall?”

“Watching our outfit. We were out, as I already have told you, when our things were thrown out. The Chinaman was on hand and remained on guard watching the stuff. I know him and will vouch for him, so please don’t bother him.”

“It goes if you say so. I know you, but you don’t know me. Where are you going to sleep?”

Grace said she did not know and asked him if he knew of a vacant place. The M. P. said there wasn’t one in the village, but that he would turn some fellows out of a cellar and give the place to the two women.

“No, you will not,” declared Grace. “Never mind us, we can shift for ourselves if you can rustle a couple of blankets for us. There is a car just up the street; we can sleep in that.”

“Five doughboys in it already,” the M. P. informed them. “Have to guess again. I’ll tell you what. There’s a covered lorry further up the street, loaded with supplies. We’ll unload enough of them to give you a place to bunk in, if that will suit you.”

“Fine!” glowed Grace. “We shall not be displacing any one and we shall be quite comfortable, I know. Do you make a report of this matter?”

“Sure I do. Want me to say anything in particular?”

“The truth, nothing but the truth,” she advised. “Elfreda, shall we shoulder our household belongings and move to our Pullman?”

“I suppose so, but, my dear, I am bitterly disappointed that you didn’t permit the M. P. to break the door in,” complained J. Elfreda.

“You may well be thankful that he did not. We are on the way to enough trouble as it is. Won, will you carry some of our gear?”

“Let the Chink go. We men will take care of the stuff,” spoke up an M. P.

Grace thanked the soldier and also shook hands with Won, then leaning forward she whispered in his ear, “Watch the plidgins and tell me.” Grace heard him chuckle and knew that it was all right. Elfreda demanded to know what she was doing, but Grace merely laughed and started on after the military police, who were carrying their equipment.

The lorry proved to be a most comfortable place, though the girls knew they would be somewhat cramped for room. Several cases of supplies were removed by the men and stowed forward back of the driver’s seat. Two pairs of blankets were produced, which Grace was quite certain had been hooked from another truck, and dumped into their sleeping place.

“I reckon that’s all we can do for you to-night,” announced the M. P. “Sorry we can’t do more.”

“You have done quite enough and we are grateful,” replied Grace earnestly. “I know we shall have a fine night’s sleep in our – ”

“Rolling bedroom,” finished Elfreda.

“Yes. Perhaps we may dream that we are gypsies. I fear I should just love that vagabond life.”

“No need to tell me that, Grace Harlowe. I have known it for a long time. Suppose we make our beds and retire. Good-night, Buddies.”

“Yes, good-night, and thank you all again,” added Grace.

“We’ll just hook down the tailpiece so in case of storm you won’t get wet. Here’s my club. Should any one bother you, bat him over the head and yell for me. I’ll be on till four in the morning. Good-night.”

The M. P. pulled down the canvas tailpiece and secured it, then the girls heard them going away.

“Even if the M. P.’s are ‘winning the war’ they’re real Americans,” concluded Miss Briggs. “Are you going to undress?”

Grace said she was not, so they removed their blouses, rolled in their blankets and promptly went to sleep.

It was some hours later when Grace Harlowe heard shouting, listened half asleep, then went back into dreamland. Some time later she sat up wide awake. The truck was swaying from side to side, jolting disagreeably, and the horn up forward was honking like a frightened wild goose leader warning its flock. She knew instantly what had happened. The army train was under motion and they were going with it. This was rather more than she had bargained for, and quickly pulling an edge of the tailpiece aside, opening a narrow slit, the Overton girl peered out. The scene was an unfamiliar one. They were out in the country and there was no sign of the village where they had been only a few minutes before, as it seemed to her.

“Why, we must have been out for some time,” she marveled. “Br-r-r!” Rain was falling, the wind was blowing a gale, and marching columns that they were passing were soaked and the faces of the men wore surly expressions.

“No balloon flight to-day, so I suppose I might as well let well enough alone and take what the kind fates have bestowed upon me,” concluded the Overton girl. “Poor Elfreda doesn’t know anything about it. I think I shall go back to sleep.”

This Grace did. Along toward noon she was awakened by Elfreda, who was shaking her.

“Grace Harlowe, do you know where we are?” demanded Miss Briggs.

“Of course I do,” muttered Grace.

“Where?”

“In a camion on our way to the Rhine. Did you only now discover that?”

“Yes.”

“What a sleepy-head! I knew that hours ago, but what was the use in raising a row? We could not be better off.”

“Yes, but our mess,” protested Elfreda.

“We have sufficient in our kits for our needs. Let’s be sensible and take it easy while we may. Think what a lovely time we are missing. We might have had to walk.”

“First this brave soldier would have deserted. The last walk was exercise enough to last me for the rest of my life. Is it your intention to stay in this wagon all day?”