Victor Appleton - The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front
V >>
Victor Appleton >> The Moving Picture Boys on the War Front
Pages:
1 | 2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11
"Let's have a look," suggested Blake. "It may not be so bad as you
think."
But it was--every bit, and Joe and Blake found they would have to make
the whole series over, requiring the marching of thousands of men and
consequent delay in getting the completed films to the various
recruiting centers.
"Well, if it has to be done, it has to be," said Joe, with a philosophic
sigh. "And making retakes may delay us in getting to Europe."
"That's right!" agreed Blake. "But who is this fellow, anyhow, Charlie?
And what made him so careless? An accident like this means a lot to us
and to the Government."
"I should say it did!" agreed Macaroni. "And it was the funniest
accident I ever saw!"
"How so?" asked Joe.
"Well, a little while before you finished these films this same French
officer was talking to me, asking if there were to be any duplicates of
them, and questions like that."
"And you told him?"
"Yes. I didn't see any reason for keeping it secret. He isn't a German.
If he had been I'd have kept quiet. But he's an accredited
representative from the French Government, and is supposed to be quite a
fighter. I thought he knew how to run an auto, but he backed and filled,
came up on the wrong side of the road, and then plunged into me. Then he
said his steering gear went back on him.
"Mighty funny if it did, for it was all right just before and right
after the accident. He was all kinds of ways sorry about it, offered to
pay for the damage, and all that. I told him that wouldn't take the
pictures over again."
"And it won't," agreed Blake. "That's the worst of it! Did you say you
had seen this Frenchman before, Mac?"
"Yes; he's been around camp quite a while. You must have seen him too,
you and Joe; but I guess you were so busy you didn't notice. He wears a
light blue uniform, with a little gold braid on it, and he has one of
those leather straps from his shoulder."
"You mean a bandolier," suggested Joe.
"Maybe that's it," admitted Macaroni. "Anyhow, he's a regular swell, and
he goes around a lot with the other camp officers. They seem to think he
knows a heap about war. But, believe me, he doesn't know much about
running an auto--or else he knows too much."
"Well, seeing that he's the guest of this camp, and probably of Uncle
Sam, we can't make too much of a row," observed Blake. "I'll go and tell
the commandant about the accident, and have him arrange for taking a new
series of views. It's too bad, but it can't be helped."
"It could have been helped if anybody with common sense had been running
that auto, instead of a frog-eating, parlevooing Frenchman!" cried
Macaroni, who was much excited over the affair.
"That's no way to talk about one of our Allies," cautioned Joe.
"Humph!" was all Charles answered, as he looked at the wrecked box of
film. "I s'pose he'll claim it was partly my fault."
"Well, we know it wasn't," returned Blake consolingly. "Come on, we'll
get ready to do it over again; but, from the way Mr. Hadley wrote in his
last letter, he'll be sorry about the delay."
"Is he eager for you to get over on the other side?" asked the helper.
"Yes. And I understand he asked if you wanted to go along as our
assistant, Mac."
"He did? First I wasn't going, but now I believe I will. I don't want to
stay on the same side of the pond with that Frenchman! He may run into
me again."
"Don't be a C. C.," laughed Joe. "Cheer up!"
"I would if I saw anything to laugh at," was the response. "But it sure
is tough!"
The moving picture boys felt also that the incident was unfortunate, but
they were used to hard luck, and could accept it more easily than could
their helper.
The commanding officer at the camp was quite exercised over the matter
of the spoiled films.
"Well," he said to Blake when told about it, "I suppose it can't be
helped. It may delay matters a bit, and we counted on the films as an
aid in the recruiting. There have been a good many stories circulated,
by German and other enemies of Uncle Sam, to the effect that the boys in
camp are having a most miserable time.
"Of course you know and I know that this isn't so. But we can't reach
every one to tell them that. Nor can the newspapers, helpful as they
have been, reach every one. That is why we decided on moving pictures.
They have a wider appeal than anything else.
"So we army men felt that if we could show pictures of life as it
actually is in camp, it would not only help enlistments, but would make
the fathers and mothers feel that their sons were going to a place that
was good for them."
"So they are; and our pictures will show it, too!" exclaimed Blake. "On
account of the accident we'll be a bit delayed, and if that Frenchman
runs his auto----"
"Well, perhaps the less said about it the better," cautioned the
officer. "He is our guest, you know, and if he was a bit awkward we must
overlook it."
"And yet, after all, I wonder, with Mac, if it was a pure accident,"
mused Blake, as he walked off to join Joe and arrange for the retaking
of the films that were spoiled. "I wonder if it was an accident," he
repeated.
In the days that followed the destruction of the army films and while
the arrangements for taking new pictures were being made, Joe and Blake
heard several times from Mr. Hadley. The producer said he was going to
send Macaroni abroad with the two boys, if the wiry little helper would
consent to go; and to this Charles assented.
He would be very useful to Joe and Blake, they felt, knowing their ways
as he did, and being able to work a camera almost as well as they
themselves.
"Did the boss tell you just what we were to do?" asked Blake of Joe one
day, when they were perfecting the details for taking the new pictures.
"No. But he said he would write us in plenty of time. All I know is that
we're to go to Belgium, or Flanders, or somewhere on the Western front,
and make films. What we are to get mostly are pictures of our own boys."
"Most of them are in France."
"Well, then we'll go to France. We're to get scenes of life in the camps
there, as well as in the trenches. They're for official army records,
some of them, I believe."
"And I hope that crazy Frenchman doesn't follow us over and spoil any
more films," added Charles, who was loading a camera.
"Not much danger of that," was Joe's opinion.
"Come, don't nurse a grudge," advised Blake.
It was about a week after this that the two boys were ready to take the
first of the camp pictures over again.
"Better make 'em double, so there won't be another accident," advised
Charles.
"Oh, don't worry! We'll take care of them this time," said Blake.
The long lines of khaki-clad soldiers marched and countermarched. They
"hiked," went into camp, cooked, rushed into the trenches, had bayonet
drill, and some went up in aeroplanes. All of this was faithfully
recorded by the films.
Blake and Joe were standing together, waiting for the army officer to
plan some new movements, when a voice behind the two lads asked:
"Pardon me! But are these the new official films?"
Joe and Blake turned quickly before replying. They saw regarding them a
slim young fellow with a tiny moustache. His face was browned, as if
from exposure to sun and air, and he wore a well-fitting and attractive
blue uniform with a leather belt about his waist and another over his
shoulder.
"Yes, these are the official films," answered Blake.
"And are you the official artists?"
"Camera men--just plain camera men," corrected Joe.
"Ah, I am interested!" The man spoke with a slight, and not unpleasing,
accent. "Can you tell me something about your work?" he asked. "I am
very much interested. I would like to know----"
At that moment Macaroni slid up to Blake with a roll of new film, and
hoarsely whispered:
"That's the guy that knocked into me and spilled the beans!"
The Frenchman, for it was he, caught the words and smiled.
"Pardon," he murmured. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Monsieur
Secor, and I believe I did have the misfortune to spoil some films for
you. A thousand pardons!" and Monsieur Secor, with a quick glance at the
two boys, bowed low.
CHAPTER IV
ALL ABOARD
Blake was about to make a sharp reply to the polite Frenchman, when he
happened to remember what the commanding officer had said. That was that
this man was, in reality, a guest of the nation. That he had come over
instructed to give as much help as he could in getting the new soldiers
in readiness to go "over the top."
"And so I guess I'd better not say what I was going to," mused Blake.
Then, to Monsieur Secor he replied:
"I'm sorry, but we're not supposed to talk about our work without the
permission of the commanding officer. You see----"
"Ah, I comprehend!" exclaimed the Frenchman, with another bow--a bow
altogether too elaborate, Joe thought. "That is as it should be! Always
obey orders. I asked, casually, as I am much interested in this motion
picture work, and I have observed some of it in my country. So it was
your films that I had the misfortune to spoil? I greatly regret it. I
suppose it made much extra work for you."
"It did, Monsieur Secor," replied Joe rather shortly. "That is the work
we are doing now."
"And if you will excuse us," went on Blake, "we shall have to leave this
place and go to the other side of the parade ground. I'm sorry we cannot
tell you more of our work, but you will have to get an order from----"
"Non! Non!" and the blue-uniformed officer broke into a torrent of rapid
French. "It does not matter in the least," he began to translate. "I
asked more out of idle curiosity than anything else. I will watch as
much of your work as is permissible for me to see. Later I shall observe
the finished films, I hope."
"If you don't bust 'em again!" murmured Macaroni, when out of the
officer's hearing. "I wouldn't trust you any too much," he added, as he
and the two chums moved away to get views of the soldiers from a
different angle.
"What's wrong between you and Monsieur Secor?" asked Joe. "I mean, aside
from his having run into you, which he claims was an accident?"
"Well, maybe it was an accident, and maybe it wasn't," said Charles.
"But that isn't all. I know you, Mac. What else do you mean?" demanded
Blake, as Joe began to set up the camera in the new location.
"Well, I don't want to make any accusations, especially against a French
officer, for I know they're on our side. But I heard that Sim and
Schloss are pretty sore because you fellows got this work."
"Sim and Schloss!" repeated Blake. "That Jew firm which tried to cut
under us in the contract for making views of animals in Bronx Park?"
"That's the firm," answered Macaroni. "But they're even more German than
they're Jews. But that's the firm I mean. One of their camera men was
telling me the other day they thought they had this army work all to
themselves, and they threw a fit when they heard that Hadley had it and
had turned it over to you."
"It goes to show that Duncan and Stewart are making a name for
themselves in the moving picture world," said Blake, with a smile.
"It goes to show that you've got to look out for yourselves," declared
Charlie Anderson. "Those fellows will do you if they can, and I wouldn't
be surprised to hear that this frog-eating chap was in with them, and
maybe he spoiled your films on purpose, by running into me."
"Nonsense!" cried Blake, speaking confidently, though at heart a little
doubtful. "In the first place. Monsieur Secor wouldn't do anything to
aid a German firm. That's positive! Again he would have no object in
spoiling our films."
"He would if he's in with Sim and Schloss," suggested Joe, taking sides
with their helper. "If he could throw discredit on us, and make it
appear that we were careless in doing our work, our rivals could go to
the war department and, in effect, say: 'I told you so!' Then they could
offer to relieve us of the contract."
"Well, I suppose that's true," admitted Blake. "And we haven't any
reason to like Sim and Schloss either. But I don't believe they could
plot so far as to get a French officer to help them as against us.
"No, Charlie," he went on, having half convinced himself by his
reasoning, "I can't quite agree with you. I think it was an accident on
the part of Monsieur Secor. By the way, what's his army title?"
"He's a lieutenant, I believe," answered Joe. "Anyhow, he wears that
insignia. He's mighty polite, that's sure."
"Too polite," said Macaroni, with a grim smile. "If he hadn't waited for
me to pass him the other day he might not have rammed me. Well, it's all
in the day's work, I reckon. Here they come, boys! Shoot!"
Blake and Joe began grinding away at the camera cranks, with their
helper to assist them. Charles Anderson was more than a paid employee
of the moving picture boys. He was a friend as well, and had been with
the "firm" some time. He was devoted and faithful, and a good camera man
himself, having helped film many large productions.
In spite of what he had said, Blake Stewart was somewhat impressed by
what Charles had told him. And for the next few days, during which he
was busily engaged on retaking the films, he kept as close a watch as he
could on Lieutenant Secor. However, the attitude and conduct of the
Frenchman seemed to be above suspicion. He did not carry out his
intention, if he really had it, of seeking permission from the
commanding officer to observe more closely the work of Blake and Joe.
And for a few days before the last of the new films had been taken the
blue-uniformed officer was not seen around the camp.
Blake and Joe were too busy to ask what had become of him. Then, too,
other matters engaged their attention. For a letter came from Mr.
Hadley, telling them and Charles to hold themselves in readiness to
leave for England at any time.
"It's all settled," wrote the producer. "I have signed the contracts to
take moving picture films of our boys in the French trenches, and
wherever else they go on the Western front. You will get detailed
instructions, passes, and so on when you arrive on the other side."
"When do we sail?" asked Joe, after Blake had read him this letter, and
when they were preparing to go back to New York, having finished their
army camp work.
"The exact date isn't settled," answered his partner. "They keep it
quiet until the last minute, you know, because some word might be
flashed to Germany, and the submarines be on the watch for us."
"That's so!" exclaimed Joe. "Say, wouldn't it be great if we could get
one?"
"One what?" asked Blake, who was reading over again certain parts of Mr.
Hadley's letter.
"A submarine. I mean film one as it sent a torpedo to blow us out of the
water. Wouldn't it be great if we could get that?"
"It would if the torpedo didn't get us first!" grimly replied Blake. "I
guess I wouldn't try that if I were you."
"I'm going to, if I get a chance," Joe declared. "It would make a great
film, even a few feet of it. We could sell it to one of the motion
weeklies for a big sum."
"It's hardly worth the risk," said Blake, "and we're going to have
plenty of risks on the other side, I guess."
"Does Mr. Hadley say how we are to go?" asked Joe.
"From New York to Halifax, of course, and from there over to England.
They search the ship for contraband at Halifax, I believe, or put her
through some official form.
"From England we'll go to France and then be taken to the front. Just
what will happen when we get on the other side nobody knows, I guess.
We're to report at General Pershing's headquarters, and somebody there,
who has this stunt in hand, will take charge of us. After that it's up
to you and Charles and me, Joe."
"Yes, I suppose it is. Well, we'll do our best!"
"Sure thing!" assented Blake.
"We will if some ninny of a frog-skinning Frenchman doesn't try to ram
us with an airship!" growled Macaroni. He had never gotten over the
accident.
"I believe you are growing childish, Mac!" snapped Blake, in unusual
ill-humor.
The last of the army camp films had been made and sent in safety to the
studios in New York, where the negatives would be developed, the
positives, printed by electricity, cut and pasted to make an artistic
piece of work, and then they would be ready for display throughout the
United States, gaining recruits for Uncle Sam, it was hoped.
Blake and Joe said good-bye to the friends they had made at the
Wrightstown camp, and, with Macaroni, proceeded to Manhattan. There they
were met by Mr. Hadley, who gave them their final instructions and
helped them to get their outfits ready.
"We'll take the regular cameras," said Blake, as he and Joe talked it
over together, "and also the two small ones that we can strap on our
backs."
"Better take the midget, too," suggested Joe.
"That's too small," objected the lanky helper. "It really is intended
for aeroplane work."
"Well, we may get some of that," went on Joe. "I'm game to go up if they
want me to."
"That's right!" chimed in Blake. "I didn't think about that. We may have
to make views from up near the clouds. Well, we did it once, and we can
do it again. Pack the midget, Charlie."
So the small camera went into the outfit that was being made ready for
the steamer. As Blake had said, he and his partner had, on one occasion,
gone up in a military airship from Governor's Island, to make some views
of the harbor. The experience had been a novel one, but the machine was
so big, and they flew so low, that there was no discomfort or danger.
"But if we have to go over the German lines, in one of those little
machines that only hold two, well, I'll hold my breath--that's all!"
declared Joe.
Finally the last of the flank films and the cameras had been packed, the
boys had been given their outfits, letters of introduction, passports,
and whatever else it was thought they would need. They had bidden
farewell to the members of the theatrical film company; and some of the
young actresses did not try to conceal their moist eyes, for Blake and
Joe were general favorites.
"Well, do the best you can," said C. C. Piper to them, as he and some
others accompanied the boys to the pier "somewhere in New York."
"We will," promised Blake.
"And if we don't meet again in this world," went on the tragic comedian,
"I'll hope to meet you in another--if there is one."
"Cheerful chap, you are!" said Blake. "Don't you think we'll come back?"
Christopher Cutler Piper shook his head.
"You'll probably be blown up if a shell doesn't get you," he said. "The
mortality on the Western front is simply frightful, and the percentage
is increasing every day."
"Say, cut it out!" advised Charlie Anderson. "Taking moving pictures
over there isn't any more dangerous than filming a fake battle here when
some chump of an actor lets off a smoke bomb with a short fuse!"
At this reference to the rather risky trick C. C. had once tried, there
was a general laugh, and amid it came the cry:
"All aboard! All ashore that's going ashore!"
The warning bells rang, passengers gathered up the last of their
belongings, friends and relatives said tearful or cheerful good-byes,
and the French liner, which was to bear the moving picture boys to
Halifax, and then to England, was slowly moved away from her berth by
pushing, fussing, steaming tugs.
"Well, we're off!" observed Blake.
"That's so," agreed Joe. "And I'm glad we've started."
"You aren't the only ones who have done that," said Macaroni. "Somebody
else has started with you!"
"Who?"
For answer the lanky helper pointed across the deck. There, leaning up
against a lifeboat, was Lieutenant Secor, smoking a cigarette and
seemingly unconscious of the presence of the moving picture boys.
CHAPTER V
ANXIOUS DAYS
For a moment even Blake, cool as he usually was, seemed to lose his
head. He started in the direction of the Frenchman, against whom their
suspicions were directed, thinking to speak to him, when Joe sprang from
his chair.
"I'll show him!" exclaimed Blake's chum and partner, and this served to
make Blake himself aware of the danger of acting too hastily. Quickly
Blake put out his hand and held Joe back.
"What's the matter?" came the sharp demand. "I want to go and ask that
fellow what he means by following us!"
"I wouldn't," advised Blake, and now he had control of his own feelings.
"Why not?"
"Because," answered Blake slowly, as he smiled at his chum, "he might,
with perfect truth and considerable reason, say it was none of your
business."
"None of my business? None of our business that he follows us aboard
this ship when we're going over to get official war films? Well, Blake
Stewart, I did think you had some spunk, but----"
"Easy now," cautioned Macaroni. "He's looking over here to see what the
row's about. There! He's looking right at us."
The Frenchman did, indeed, seem to observe for the first time the
presence of the boys so close to him. He looked over, bowed and smiled,
but did not leave his place near the rail. He appeared to be occupied in
looking at the docks and the shipping of New York harbor, glancing now
at the tall buildings of New York, and again over at the Jersey shore
and the Statue of Liberty.
"Come on back here--behind the deckhouse," advised Blake to his chum and
Macaroni. "We can talk then and he can't see us."
And when they were thus out of sight, and the vessel was gathering way
under her own power, Joe burst out with:
"Say, what does all this mean? Why didn't you let me go over and ask him
what he meant by following us on board this vessel?"
"I told you," answered Blake, "that he'd probably tell you it was none
of your business."
"Why isn't it?"
"Because this is a public vessel--that is, public in as much as all
properly accredited persons who desire may go to England on her.
Lieutenant Secor must have his passport, or he wouldn't be here. And, as
this is a public place, he has as much right here as we have.
"And of course if you had asked him, Joe, especially with the show of
indignation you're wearing now, he would have told you, and with perfect
right, that he had as much business here as you have. He didn't follow
us here; I think he was on board ahead of us. But if he did follow us,
he did no more than some of these other passengers did, who came up the
gangplank after us. This is a public boat."
Joe looked at his chum a moment, and then a smile replaced the frown on
his face.
"Well, I guess you're right," he announced. "I forgot that anybody might
come aboard as well as ourselves. But it does look queer--his coming
here so soon after he spoiled our films; whether intentionally or not
doesn't matter."
"Well, I agree with you there--that it does look funny," said Blake
Stewart. "But we mustn't let that fact get the better of our judgment.
If there's anything wrong here, we've got to find it out, and we can't
do it by going off half cocked."
"Well, there's something wrong, all right," said Charlie Anderson,
smiling at his apparently contradictory statement. "And we'll find out
what it is, too! But I guess you're right, Blake. We've got to go slow.
I'm going below to see if our stuff is safe."
"Oh, I don't imagine anything can have happened to it--so soon," said
Blake. "At the same time, we will be careful. Now we must remember that
we may be altogether wrong in thinking this Frenchman is working against
us in the interests of our rivals, Sim and Schloss. In fact, I don't
believe that firm cares much about the contract we have, though they
have tried to cut in under us on other matters. So we must meet
Lieutenant Secor halfway if he makes any advances. It isn't fair to
misjudge him."
"I suppose so," agreed Joe. "Yet we must be on our guard against him.
I'm not going to give him any information about what we are going across
to do."
"That's right," assented Blake. "Don't talk too much to
anybody--especially strangers. We'll be decent to this chap, but he is
no longer a guest of our nation, and we don't have to go out of our way
to be polite. Just be decent, that's all--and on the watch."
"I'm with you," said Joe, as Macaroni came back to say that all was well
in their cabin where they had left most of their personal possessions.
The cameras and the reels of unexposed film were in the hold with their
heavy baggage, but they had kept with them a small camera and some film
for use in emergencies.
"For we might sight a submarine," Joe had said. "And if I get a chance,
I'm going to film a torpedo."
By this time the vessel was down in the Narrows, with the frowning forts
on either side, and as they passed these harbor defenses Lieutenant
Secor crossed the deck and nodded to the boys.
"I did not know we were to be traveling companions," he said, with a
smile.
"Nor did we," added Blake. "You are going back to France, then?"
The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders in characteristic fashion.
"Who knows?" he asked. "I am in the service of my beloved country. I go
where I am sent. I am under orders, Messieurs, and until I report in
Paris I know not what duty I am to perform. But I am charmed to see you
again, and rest assured I shall not repeat my lamentable blunder."
Pages:
1 | 2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11