Chapter 8
chapter eight of grace harlowe with the marines at chateau terry by jesse graham flower this librivox recording is in the public domain chapter eight grace stands a lonely vigil Jimmy Baldwin had not gone far before he was obliged to lay his burden down, and it was then that the general demanded to know what had become of Grace Harlow Gray. When informed that she had remained behind to direct the runners to him, General Bridges began to rage, but he was too weak to offer much resistance,
and the young driver gathered him up again and struggled on, this time never stopping until he had reached his destination where he collapsed absolutely. Back there in the old stone house, a storm-swept centre, Grace kept her vigil. Never in her life had she felt so much alone as she did now, and for the first time she wondered if she were losing her courage,
for her heart was pounding so loudly that she could hear it, or that she could above the roar of the battle. Shells were setting up a variety of whistling and wooing high above her, an occasional heavy discharge telling her that one had fallen not so far away. Every time one of those explosions occurred,
a deluge of masonry showered down into the old house, causing Grace to press her body closely against the wall in an effort to escape the downfall. she held her place near the window so that in case the building were again struck she might stand a better chance of getting out a staccato roar that she first thought to be machine gun fire close at hand caused her to peer from the window The sound was getting closer.
Then, from around the corner of the building, toward the valley, flashed a motorcycle. Halt! shouted Grace. Who are you? Runner from the wood.
Where is the general? Wounded. Other side of the knoll by the ambulance station. O.P. is there. Carry on.
Right. The runner was off, roaring around the base of the little hill with his message from the forest where men were fighting
in a desperate hand-to-hand conflict in the darkness that was relieved only by the flash of powder. Grace had lost no time in useless words, and the messenger had been detained but a few seconds. My judgment is confirmed, she told herself. I am glad, so glad that I acted as I did. There comes another runner. They seemed to be coming in a perfect procession, and they kept coming for the better part of an hour when the number decreased which grace
interpreted to mean that most of the runners now knew where the general in command was but she dared not leave until she was positive that no more would come to the old post of observation as yet not a shell had struck the old stone house since her arrival and she ardently hoped none would while she was there, for Grace felt that she had work to do, a duty to perform, and that no duty could be higher than that which she was now performing. She found herself wondering
how things were going with the marines there in Bellow Wood, but would not allow her eagerness to detain a runner sufficiently long enough to ask him. Seconds might mean so much. In the meantime, and General Bridges was on his back down at the foot of the hill, with a surgeon working over his injured limbs, with runners reporting to him every little while,
and carrying back his orders to the men in the forests, stoutly refusing to be taken to a dressing station, until his men had attained their objective and made it secure. That they were making progress he knew from the reports of his runners. Thus far his mind had been too fully occupied to give thought to the girl,
off there standing her lonely vigil in the old stone house. Only one runner had reported to her in the last hour and she was debating with herself whether or not it was safe to leave the post when there came a tremendous crash and a report that seemed to split the house wide open. That was all Grace heard, though she was conscious of having seen a flash of light.
Grace came to suddenly, wondering where she was. Every muscle in her body was sore and her head ached frightfully. Now she found herself out on the grass, while a few yards away was the old stone house, now a crumpled heap of ruins.
I must, must have been blown out of the window, she muttered, and that was exactly what had occurred. I, I wonder if any runners have been here. Just then one came roaring up. She hailed him weakly.
General Bridges knew O.P. under the hill by the ambulances. Hurry. Instead of doing so, the messenger sprang from his wheel and ran over to her. Who are you? What are you doing here?
He demanded. Grace Gray, ambulance driver. General was wounded and taken to new post. I remained here to send the runners to him and... and...
and what? I guess I was blown up with the house, that's all. All? I reckon that was about enough, don't you? You must go in. You will be killed out here. No place for a woman, no matter how brave she may be. Come along. I'm going in. Grace shook her head.
I can't leave here, buddy. Please carry on. You make me nervous standing there. Make you nervous, scoffed the runner. If that isn't the limit. All right, I'm off. The moment he started away, Grace lay back on the grass and closed her eyes, for she was very tired, a little weak, and the machinery in her head was still somewhat twisted as she expressed it to herself. The young Overton woman realised that she was suffering from a
slight case of shell shock, but knew she could overcome it by sheer force of will. When the runner had made his report, he informed the general of what he had found at the old OP, and that the young woman there had had a pretty hard smack. What? That woman out there yet? The general groaned.
Yes, sir, she is. You go back and fetch her in here, he thundered, rising on one elbow. I tried to get her to come in with me, sir, but she wouldn't. She won't come, sir. Says she can't leave there. Hmm, we'll see about that.
The general summoned two orderlies. Go out to the stone house and get that woman. if she won't come carry her and don't come back without her. Stop, he commanded as the men started to move off. See that she doesn't get hit.
How can we do that, sir? spoke up one of the two. Do as I tell you and be quick about it. Carry on. The orders were given in a tone that brought no argument and the two orderlies trotted away, taking the safer course if there was such a thing around the base of the hill.
Grace, still stretched out on her back, did not hear them until they had almost stepped on her. They would have done so had she not suddenly sat up, ready for a spring and a run should they prove to be enemies. The two men were even more startled than she was. Who goes? she demanded sharply. Orderless from the General.
Oh, what is it? You are to go back with us. It is the General's orders. Are the runners all aware of the change of O.P.? "'We don't know, miss. Our orders are to fetch you in, and if you refuse to obey, to carry you back.' "'That would be funny, wouldn't it?' smiled Grace.
"'Being a soldier, I suppose I shall have to obey, and being a woman, it wouldn't look dignified to be carried. "'How is the general?' "'All right, miss.' Grace got up, brushed her skirt, and adjusted her helmet. "'I'm ready,' she said.
They soon arrived at the brow of the hill over which they ran when the rat-tat-tat-tat of enemy machine guns was born to their ears. Grace Harlow uttered a sudden exclamation, staggered and without another word plunged headlong down the bank. the overton girl struggled for a moment to get to her feet and then fell prone on her face when the two men rushed to her side calling her to know if she were hurt end of chapter eight
