Victor Appleton - The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front
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Victor Appleton >> The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front
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11 THE
MOVING PICTURE BOYS
ON THE WAR FRONT
OR
The Hunt for the Stolen Army Films
BY
VICTOR APPLETON
AUTHOR OF "THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS," "THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS
UNDER THE SEA," "TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR-CYCLE," "TOM SWIFT
AND HIS AERIAL WARSHIP," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1918, by GROSSET & DUNLAP
_The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front_
[Illustration: IT TOOK ALL THE NERVE OF THE THREE LADS TO STAND AT
THEIR POSTS AND SEE MEN KILLED.]
=CONTENTS=
CHAPTER PAGE
I A CALL TO BATTLE 1
II THE ACCIDENT 11
III MONSIEUR SECOR 20
IV ALL ABOARD 29
V ANXIOUS DAYS 39
VI A QUEER CONFERENCE 47
VII "PERISCOPE AHOY!" 56
VIII BEATEN OFF 65
IX SUSPICIONS 72
X THE FLASHLIGHT 80
XI THE DEPTH CHARGE 88
XII IN ENGLAND 97
XIII UNDER SUSPICION 105
XIV IN CUSTODY 114
XV THE FRONT AT LAST 121
XVI THE FIRING LINE 130
XVII BOWLED OVER 138
XVIII TRENCH LIFE 145
XIX GASSED 153
XX "GONE!" 161
XXI ACROSS NO MAN'S LAND 170
XXII CAPTURED 179
XXIII THE AIRSHIP RAID 189
XXIV BURIED ALIVE 199
XXV THE END OF LABENSTEIN 206
=THE MOVING PICTURE BOYS ON THE WAR FRONT=
CHAPTER I
A CALL TO BATTLE
"Come on now, ready with those smoke bombs! Where's the Confederate
army, anyhow? And you Unionists, don't look as though you were going to
rob an apple orchard! Suffering snakes, you're going into battle and
you're going to lick the boots off the Johnnie Rebs! Look the part! Look
the part! Now, then, what about the cannon? Got plenty of powder in 'em
so there'll be lots of smoke?"
A stout man, with perspiration running down his face, one drop trickling
from his nose, was hurrying up and down the field.
On one side of him was a small army composed of what seemed to be Civil
War Union soldiers. A little farther back was a motley array of
Confederates. Farther off was an apple orchard, and close beside that
stood a ramshackle farmhouse which was soon to be the center of a
desperate moving-picture battle in the course of which the house would
be the refuge of the Confederates.
"The old man is sort of on his ear this morning, isn't he, Blake?" asked
Joe Duncan of his chum and camera partner, Blake Stewart. "I haven't
heard him rage like this since the time C. C. dodged the custard pie he
was supposed to take broadside on."
"Yes, he's a bit nervous, Joe; but----"
"Nervous isn't the word for it, Blake. He's boiling over! What's it all
about, anyhow? Is he mad because I was a bit late getting here with the
extra reels of film?"
"No, he didn't say a word about that. It's just that he can't get this
battle scene to suit him. We've rehearsed it and rehearsed it again and
again, but each time it seems to go worse. The extras don't seem to know
how to fight."
"That's queer, considering all the war preparations that have been going
on here since we got in the game against Germany," observed Joe Duncan,
as he made some adjustments to his camera, one of several which he and
Blake would use in filming part of a big serial, a number of scenes of
which were to center around the battle in the apple orchard. "With all
the volunteering and drafting that's been going on, soldiers quartered
all over and as thick as bees around the cities, you'd think these
extra fellows would know something about the game, wouldn't you?"
"You'd think so; but they seem to be afraid of the guns, even though
they are loaded with blanks. Here comes Mr. Hadley again, and he's got
fire in his eyes!"
Mr. Hadley, producer of the Consolidated Film Company, approached Jacob
Ringold, a theatrical manager who was in charge of the company taking
the parts in "The Dividing Line," which was the name of the Civil War
play.
"Look here, Jake!" exclaimed Mr. Hadley, "is this supposed to be a
desperate, bloody battle, or a game of tennis?"
"Why, a battle scene, of course, Mr. Hadley!"
"Well, I'm glad to know it! From the way most of your people just
rehearsed it, I thought I might be in the wrong box, and looking at a
college football game. But no, I wrong the college game! That would be
more strenuous than this battle scene, at least as far as I've watched
it. Can't you get a little more life into your people?"
"I'll try, Mr. Hadley," answered the manager, as the producer walked
over to the two boys who stood near their cameras waiting for the word
to be given, when they would begin grinding out the long reels of
celluloid film.
"This is positively the worst production I've ever been in!" complained
Mr. Hadley to Blake. "Did you ever see such a farce as when the
Confederates were hidden in the orchard and the Unionists stormed over
the stone wall? You'd think they were a lot of boys going after apples.
Bah! It makes me weary!"
"It isn't very realistic," admitted Blake.
"Mr. Ringold's talking to them now like a Dutch uncle," observed Joe, as
he idly swung the crank of his camera, the machine not being in gear.
"Well, I hope it does some good," observed the producer. "If it isn't
better pretty soon, I'll let all these extra men go and hire others
myself. I want that battle scene to look halfway real, at least."
"It'll be a failure, I know it will," observed a melancholy-looking man
who strolled up at this juncture. "I saw a black cat as I came from my
room this morning, and that's always a sign of bad luck."
"Oh, leave it to you to find something wrong!" exploded Mr. Hadley.
"Can't you look on the cheerful side once in a while, C. C.?" he asked,
forgetting that he, himself, had been prophetic of failure but a few
moments before.
"Humph!" murmured C. C., otherwise Christopher Cutler Piper, a comedian
by profession and a gloom-producer by choice, "you might have known
those fellows couldn't act after you'd had one look at 'em," and he
motioned to the mobs of extra men, part of whom formed the Confederate
and the other half the Union armies. "There isn't a man among them who
has ever played Macbeth."
"If they had, and they let it affect them as it does you, I'd fire them
on the spot!" laughed Mr. Hadley; and at this, his first sign of mirth
that day, Blake, Joe and some of the others smiled.
"I don't want actors for this," went on the producer. "I want just plain
fighters--men who can imagine they have something to gain or lose, even
if they are shooting only blank cartridges. Well, I see Jake has
finished telling them where they get off. Now we'll try a rehearsal once
more, and then I'm going to film it whether it's right or not. I've got
other fish to fry, and I can't waste all my time on 'The Dividing Line.'
By the way," he went on to Joe and Blake, "don't you two young gentlemen
make any long-time engagements for the next week."
"Why?" asked Blake.
"Well, I may have a proposition to submit to you, if all goes well. I'll
talk about it when I get this battle scene off my mind. Now, then, Jake,
how about you?"
"I think it will be all right, Mr. Hadley. I have talked to my extra
actors, and they promise to put more verve and spirit into their work."
"Verve and spirit!" cried the producer. "What I want is _action_!"
"Well, that's the same thing," said the manager. "I've told them they
must really get into the spirit of the fight. I think if you try them
again----"
"I will! Now, then, men--you who are acting as the Confederates--you
take your places in and around the farmhouse. You're supposed to have
taken refuge there after escaping from a party of Unionists. You fortify
the place, post your sentries and are having a merry time of
it--comparatively merry, that is, for you're eating after being without
food for a long time.
"The farmhouse is the property of a Union sympathizer, and you eat all
the more heartily on that account. He has two daughters--they are Birdie
Lee and Miss Shay," he added in an aside to the moving picture boys.
"Two members of your company--yes, I'm speaking to you Confederates, so
pay attention--two members of your company make love to the two
daughters, much to their dislike. In the midst of the merry-making and
the love scenes the Union soldiers are reported to be coming. You
Johnnie Rebs get out and the fight begins.
"And let me tell you if it isn't a better fight this time than any
you've put up before, you can pack your duds and get back to New York.
You've missed your vocation, take it from me, if you don't do better
than you have! Now, then, Union soldiers, what I said to the enemy
applies to you. Fight as though you meant it. Now, one more rehearsal
and I'm going to start you on the real thing."
Under the direction of the assistants of Mr. Ringold, while Mr. Hadley
looked on critically, the Confederates took their positions in and about
the old house. They rehearsed the merry-making scenes and Miss Lee and
Miss Shay took the parts of the daughters of the Union sympathizer. The
two girls, being actresses of some experience, did very well, and the
extra people evidently improved, for Mr. Hadley nodded as if satisfied.
"Now, then, Unionists, move up!" he called. "March along the road as if
you didn't care whether you met Stonewall Jackson and his men or not.
Get a reckless air about you! That's better. Now, then, some action!
Lively, boys!"
This part, too, went better; and after a little more rehearsal the
producer called to Blake and Joe.
"Go to it, boys! Get the best results you can from this mimic battle.
Maybe you'll soon be where it's hotter than this!"
"What does he mean?" asked Joe, as he picked up his camera and took his
position where he could film the scenes at the farmhouse.
"I don't know," answered Blake, who was to take pictures of the
marching Unionists. "Maybe there are more stunts for us to do in
Earthquake Land."
"If there are I'm not going! I'd rather do undersea stuff than be around
volcanoes."
"So would I. But we'll talk about that later. Say, that looks better!"
and he motioned to the so-styled Confederates, who did seem to be
putting more life into their work.
"Yes," agreed Joe. "I guess when it comes to shooting, and all that,
there'll be action enough even for Mr. Hadley."
A little later the mimic battle scene was in full swing. Hundreds of
blank cartridges were fired, smoke bombs filled the air with their dense
vapor, and in the distance bursting shells tore up the earth, far enough
removed from the positions of the men to preclude any danger.
The Unionists closed in around the farmhouse. Close-up scenes were made,
showing Birdie Lee and Miss Shay fighting off their Confederate
admirers.
Then came the turn in the battle where the Southern force had to give
way.
"Burn the house, boys!" cried their officer; and this would be flashed
on the screen later as a lead.
The dwelling, which had been purchased with the right to burn it, was
set afire, and then began a scene that satisfied even the exacting
producer. Great clouds of smoke rolled out, most of it coming from
specially prepared bombs, and amid them and the red fire, which
simulated flames, could be seen the Union leader carrying out his
sweetheart, Birdie Lee.
Blake and Joe ground away at their cameras, faithfully recording the
scenes for the thrill and delight of those who would afterward see them
in comfortable theaters, all unaware of the hard work necessary to
produce them.
The Confederates made a last stand at the barn. They were fired upon by
the Unionists and finally driven off down the road--such as were left of
them--while the victorious Northern fighters put out the fire in the
house and the scene ended in the reuniting of long-separated lovers.
"Well, I'm glad that's over!" remarked Mr. Hadley, as he came up to
Blake and Joe where they were taking their cameras apart in readiness
for carrying them back to the studio. "It didn't go so badly, do you
think?"
"I think it'll be a fine picture!" declared Joe.
"The last stand of the Confederates was particularly good," observed
Blake.
"Good!" cried the producer. "That's a fine line for a leader--'The Last
Stand.' I must make a note of it before I forget it. And now you boys
can go back to New York. Have the films developed the first thing and
let me know how they have come out."
"They'll probably be spoiled," put in the gloomy voice of C. C.
Mr. Hadley looked around far something to throw at him, but having
nothing but his note book, which was too valuable for that, contented
himself with a sharp look at the gloomy comedian.
"When will you want us again, Mr. Hadley?" asked Blake, as he and Joe
made ready to go back in the automobile to New York, the "Southern"
battle scene having taken place in a location outside of Fort Lee on the
New Jersey bank of the Hudson River, where many large moving picture
studios are located.
"Oh, that's so! I did want to talk to you about something new I have in
mind," said Mr. Hadley. "Blake--and you, too, Joe--are you game for some
dangerous work?"
"Do you mean such as we had in Earthquake Land?" asked Blake.
"Or under the sea?" inquired his partner.
"This is a call to battle," replied Mr. Hadley. "And it's real battle,
too! None of this smoke-bomb stuff! Boys, are you game for some actual
fighting?"
CHAPTER II
THE ACCIDENT
Not at all to the discredit of the moving picture boys is it to be
considered when it is recorded that, following this question on the part
of Mr. Hadley, they looked sharply at one another.
"A call to battle!" murmured Joe.
"Actual fighting?" added his chum wonderingly.
"Perhaps I'd better explain a bit," went on the film producer. "Most
unexpectedly there has come to me an opportunity to get some exceptional
pictures. I need resourceful, nervy operators to act as camera men, and
it is only paying you two a deserved compliment when I say I at once
thought of you."
"Thank you," murmured Blake.
"No thanks necessary," responded Mr. Hadley.
"So now I am ready to put my offer into words. In brief, it is----"
At that moment back of the farmhouse (which was partly in ruins, for
the fire had been a real one) a loud explosion sounded. This was
followed by shouts and yells.
"Somebody's hurt!" cried Mr. Hadley, and he set off on a run toward the
scene, followed by Blake and Joe.
And while they are investigating what had happened, advantage will be
taken of the opportunity to tell new readers something of the former
books in this series, so they may feel better acquainted with the two
young men who are to pose as "heroes," as it is conventionally termed,
though, in truth, Joe and Blake would resent that word.
"The Moving Picture Boys" is the title of the first volume of the
series, and in that the readers were introduced to Blake Stewart and Joe
Duncan while they were working on adjoining farms. A moving picture
company came to the fields to make certain scenes and, eventually, the
two young men made the acquaintance of the manager, Mr. Hadley.
Blake and Joe were eager to get into the film business, and their wish
was gratified. They went to New York, learned the ins and outs of the
making of "shifting scenes," as the Scotchman called them, and they had
many adventures. The boys became favorites with the picture players,
among whom were the gloomy C. C., Miss Shay, Miss Lee, Harris Levinberg
and Henry Robertson. Others were added from time to time, sometimes
many extra men and women being engaged, in, for instance, scenes like
these of "The Dividing Line."
Following their adventures in New York, which were varied and strenuous,
the moving picture boys went out West, taking scenes among the cowboys
and Indians.
Later they moved on, with the theatrical company, to the coast, where
they filmed a realistic picture of a wreck. In the jungle was where we
next met Blake and Joe, and they were in dire peril more than once,
photographing wild animals, though the dangers there were surpassed when
they went to Earthquake Land, as they called it. The details of their
happenings there will be found in the fifth volume of the series.
Perilous days on the Mississippi followed, when Blake and Joe took
pictures of the flood, and later they were sent to Panama to make views
of the digging of the big canal.
Mr. Hadley was a producer who was always eager for new thrills and
effects. And when he thought he had exhausted those to be secured on the
earth, he took to the ocean. And in "The Moving Picture Boys Under the
Sea," the book that immediately precedes the present volume, will be
found set down what happened to Blake and Joe when, in a submarine, they
took views beneath the surface.
They had not long been home from their experiences with the perils of
the deep when they were engaged to make views for "The Dividing Line,"
with its battle pictures, more or less real.
"What's the matter? What happened? Is any one hurt?" cried Mr. Hadley,
as he ran toward the scene of the explosion, followed by Blake and Joe.
They could see, by a large cloud of smoke, that something extraordinary
had occurred. The figures of several men could be noted running about.
"Is anybody hurt?" demanded the producer again, as he and the two boys
reached the place. "I'll send the ambulance, if there is." For when a
film battle takes place men are often wounded by accident, and it is
necessary to maintain a real hospital on the scene.
"I don't believe any one's hurt," remarked Mr. Robertson, who did
juvenile leads.
"Unless it might be C. C.," remarked Mr. Levinberg, who was usually cast
as a villain. "And small loss if he was laid up for a week or so. We'd
be more cheerful if he were."
"Is C. C. hurt?" asked Joe.
"No; but I guess he's pretty badly scared," answered Mr. Robertson.
"After this I guess he'll have more respect for a smoke bomb."
"Was that what exploded?" asked Mr. Hadley.
"Yes," replied the "villain." He pointed to Mr. C. C. Piper walking
along in the midst of a group of soldiers. "It happened this way: We
were talking about the battle scene, and C. C. kept saying it would be a
failure when projected because the smoke bombs were not timed right. He
said they should explode closer to the firing line, and some of the men
who handled them said they held them as long as they dared before
throwing them.
"Old C. C. sneered at this, and said he could hold a smoke bomb until
the fuse was burned down out of sight, and then throw it and get better
results. So they dared him to try it."
"Well?" asked Mr. Hadley, as the actor paused.
"Well, C. C. did it. He held the smoke bomb, all right, but he didn't
throw it soon enough, and, as a result, it exploded almost in his face.
Lucky it's only made of heavy paper and not very powerful powder, so he
was only knocked down and scorched a little. But I guess he'll have more
respect for smoke bombs after this."
"Foolish fellow!" remarked Mr. Hadley. "He never will listen to reason.
I hope he isn't badly hurt."
"It's only his feelings, mostly," declared the juvenile actor.
Mr. Piper, otherwise called C. C., came limping along toward the
producer and the moving picture boys.
"Mr. Hadley, you may have my resignation, effective at once!" cried the
tragedian.
"Oh, don't say that, Mr. Piper. You're not hurt----"
"Well, it isn't any thanks to one of your men that I'm not. I offered to
show them how to throw a smoke bomb, and they gave me one with an extra
short fuse. It went off almost in my face. If my looks aren't ruined my
nerves are, and----"
"No danger of your _nerve_ being gone," murmured Blake, nudging his
chum.
"I should say not!"
"Anyhow, I resign!" declared C.C. savagely.
But, as he did this on the average of twice a week, it had become so now
that no one paid any attention to him. Mr. Hadley, seeing that he was in
no danger and hardly even painfully scorched, no longer worried about
the gloomy comedian.
"And now to get back to what we were talking about before that
interruption came," said Mr. Hadley to the moving picture boys. "Do you
think you'd like to tackle the job?"
"What is it?" asked Blake.
"Give us an idea," added his chum.
"Well, it isn't going to be any easy work," went on the producer. "And I
might as well tell you, first as last, that it will be positively
dangerous on all sides."
"Like anything we've done before?" Blake wanted to know.
"Not exactly. Earthquake Land is as near like it as anything that occurs
to me. In short, how would you like to go to Europe?"
"To the war?" cried Joe.
"Yes; but to take films, not prisoners!"
"Great!" cried Blake. "That suits me, all right!"
"The same here!" agreed Joe instantly. "Tell us more about it!"
"I will in a few days," promised the producer. "I have several details
to arrange. Meanwhile, I have a little commission for you along the same
line, but it's right around here--or, rather, down in Wrightstown, New
Jersey, at one of the army camps.
"I can tell you this much: If you go to Europe, it will be as special
agents of Uncle Sam, making films for the use of the army. You will be
commissioned, if my plans work out, though you will be non-combatants.
The war department wants reliable films, and they asked me to get some
for them. I at once thought of you two as the best camera men I could
pick out. I also have a contract for getting some films here of army
encampment scenes, and you can do these while I'm waiting to perfect my
other arrangements, if you like."
"Down at Wrightstown, is it?" cried Joe. "Well, I guess we can take
that in. How about it, Blake?"
"Sure we can. That is, if you're through with us on this serial."
"Yes. The most important scenes of that are made now, and some of my
other camera men will do for what is left. So if you want to go to the
Jersey camp I'll get your papers ready."
"We'll go," decided Blake.
Two days later, during which they wondered at and discussed the
possibilities of making films on the battle fronts of Europe, the two
youths were in Wrightstown.
One incident occurred while they were at work there that had a
considerable bearing on what afterward happened to them. This was after
Joe and Blake had finished making a fine set of films, showing the
drilling of Uncle Sam's new soldiers, the views to be used to encourage
enlistments about the country.
"These are some of the best views we've taken yet in this particular
line," observed Joe to Blake, as they sent the boxed reels to New York
by one of their helpers to be developed.
"Yes, I think so myself. Of course, they're peaceful, compared to what
we may take in France, but----"
He was interrupted by the unexpected return of Charles Anderson,
nicknamed "Macaroni," their chief helper, who hurriedly entered the
tent assigned to the two boys.
"What's the trouble, Mac?" asked Joe, that being the shortened form of
the nickname. "You look worried."
"And so would you, Joe, if you'd had an accident like mine!"
"An accident?" cried Blake, in some alarm.
"Yes! At least, he _said_ it was an accident!"
"Who said so?"
"That Frenchman!"
"What accident was it?"
"Why, he ran into me with his auto, and the army films are all
spoiled--light-struck!"
"Whew!" whistled Blake, and Joe despairingly banged his fist against his
camera.
CHAPTER III
MONSIEUR SECOR
Macaroni sank down on a chair. Blake said, afterward, their young
assistant gave a very fair imitation, as far as regarded the look on his
face, of C.C. Piper.
"Ruined! Just plumb ruined!" murmured Charles Anderson.
"But what happened? Tell us about it!" begged Joe. "You say some one ran
into you?"
"Yes. I was in the small auto taking the films you gave me to the
station, and I had just about time to catch the express when I saw this
fellow turning out of one of the side streets of the camp."
"What fellow?" asked Blake.
"I don't know his name," answered Macaroni. "But he's a Frenchman sent
here, I've heard, to help instruct our men. He's some sort of officer."
"And his machine ran into yours?" asked Blake.
"Smack into me!" answered his helper. "Knocked the box of films out on
the road, and one wheel went over it. Cracked the box clean open, and,
of course, as the film wasn't developed, it's light-struck now, and
you'll have to take all those marching scenes over again!"
"That's bad!" murmured Joe. "Very bad!"
"Did you say it was an _accident_?" asked Blake pointedly.
"That's what _he_ said," replied Charlie. "He made all sorts of
apologies, admitted it was all his fault, and all that. And it was,
too!" burst out Macaroni. "I guess I know how to be careful of
undeveloped films! Great hopping hippodromes, if I couldn't drive a car
any better than that Frenchman, I'd get out of the army! How he has any
license to buy gasolene, I can't imagine! This is how it was," and he
went into further details of the occurrence.
"I brought the films back, covering 'em with a black cloth as soon as I
could," went on Charles; "but I guess it's too late."
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