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The Exploits of Sergeant York: Germans

They came upon an old trench, formerly used by the French, and into it they dropped for protection. It led over the hill, and behind the nest of machine-guns. Single file, and cautiously, they crept along, now in the trench and now under the bushes, keeping a sharp lookout for Germans. At last, they came to a little stream on the other side of the hill, and ran into a party of twenty or thirty Germans, holding a conference and getting ready to eat.

The Americans yelled, and opened fire, as if a whole regiment had arrived. The astonished Germans, not expecting an attack, and being unprepared, held up their hands, shouting "Kamerad," in token of their surrender. "Who are you? Are you English troops?" shouted the German Major. "No. We are a force of Americans," was the reply, which seemed to bring no great surprise to the Major.

Before arrangements could be made to secure their prisoners, the machine-guns opened fire, not thirty yards away. The Americans had been discovered. The valley became a bedlam of shrieking sounds, as the rain of bullets whistled by. The German prisoners dropped to the ground, and hugged the earth for protection from the fire of their own guns. The Americans followed their example, but not before a number of their party were killed.

By this time, the sixteen men had been reduced to eight - Sergeant York and seven others. It took the whole seven to guard the prisoners who were lying down, and afraid to move for fear of the awful machine-gun fire passing overhead. York alone remained to fight the enemy. He was lying in a narrow path, leading toward the guns, the prisoners directly before him, the gun-fire barely missing him where he lay. The enemy could not lower their fire without killing their own men.

But York was as cool as though he was at a shooting-match in the mountains. He began potting the Bôches in their fox-holes, from behind the trees, and under shelter of the logs. With every shot, he brought down an enemy. His fire was deadly. "If I had moved, I would have been killed.

The prisoners saved me, for the Bôches had to fire high to keep from hitting their own men," said York afterwards.

Finally, a Lieutenant and seven men rose from a machine-gun, and charged down the hill toward the place where York lay. He shot all eight of them before they ran half-way. As soon as the Germans saw the Lieutenant and his men drop, the battle quieted down, for they were amazed at the way their men were being killed, and did not know what force was attacking them. They had no idea York was doing it all.

The Major of the prisoners called out, "Don't shoot any more, and I'll make them surrender."

With that, York lowered his pistol, and the Major raised his hands.

The Bôches came down the hill in droves. Their arrival made a list of ninety prisoners. York and the others placed them in columns, and marched off toward the American lines. "How many men have you in your command?" asked the Major. "I have plenty to hold you prisoners," answered York. "Drop your guns and equipment and move on." The Germans obeyed promptly.

On the way back, they ran into other machinegun nests. Using their prisoners as screens, the Americans made the Major demand the surrender of them as fast as they were discovered, under penalty of having his men shot by their own machine-guns. It soon became a procession.

In this way, York and his few companions added to their list as they went along, until, when they arrived at their destination, and turned over their prisoners, they had one hundred and thirty-two!

The Major was the gloomiest man in Europe when he found out that he had surrendered to a handful of Americans. York himself had killed twenty men with his own pistol, and thirty-five machineguns had been put out of action!