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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8de60c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60530 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60530) diff --git a/old/60530-8.txt b/old/60530-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index a13e3fd..0000000 --- a/old/60530-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8943 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Battlewrack, by F. Britten (Frederick -Britten) Austin - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Battlewrack - - -Author: F. Britten (Frederick Britten) Austin - - - -Release Date: October 20, 2019 [eBook #60530] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLEWRACK*** - - -E-text prepared by Tim Lindell, Graeme Mackreth, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/battlewrack00austrich - - - - - -BATTLEWRACK - -by - -F. BRITTEN AUSTIN - -Author of "In Action," "The Shaping of Lavinia" - - - - - - -Hodder and Stoughton -London New York Toronto - - - - - TO - CHARLES F. GABB - IN HIS PRIVATE AFFECTIONS - THE PATTERN OF STINTLESS FRIENDSHIP - IN HIS SELFLESS PATRIOTISM - THE MODEL OF A TRUE ENGLISHMAN - THESE SKETCHES OF HUMANITY AT STRIFE - ARE DEDICATED - IN THE GRATITUDE OF A LONG MEMORY - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - The Battery (1914) 1 - - Pro Patria 27 - - Nerves! 48 - - The Air Scout (1914) 70 - - Kultur (1915) 91 - - The Magic of Muhammed Din 101 - - The Other Side 124 - - Na Nos! 151 - - Per la Più Grande Italia! 162 - - Panzerkraftwagen! 188 - - Nach Verdun! 214 - - The Châtelaine of Lysboisée 243 - - They Come Back 277 - - - - -Practically all these stories have appeared in the _Strand Magazine_, -_Pearson's Magazine_, _Pall Mall Magazine_, or _The Sphere_. To the -Editors of these periodicals I tender my acknowledgments. - -It is fair to state that some of these stories, in particular "The -Battery," "The Air Scout," "Pro Patria," "Nerves," were written and in -some cases appeared before the present War. - - - - -THE BATTERY (1914) - - -The sun hung in the mists of morning, swollen, blood-red, a symbol of -augury, as the artillery brigade pulled out of the village where it had -been billeted for the night. At the tail of its long line of slowly -moving vehicles marched a compact column of brown-clad infantry. In -front moved a squadron of cavalry. The lieutenant-colonel commanding -the brigade trotted smartly past the batteries with his staff. Fresh -from an interview with the divisional artillery commander, he tried -not to look preoccupied and anxious as he met the searching eyes of -his men. From an unknown distance a dull thud, irregularly repeated, -vibrated through the dense atmosphere. The colonel raised his head -sharply to listen. The men in the column exchanged glances full of -meaning. - -The dull concussions continued, but the column did not increase its -pace. The long line of guns and wagons rolled onward at a steady walk, -amid a jangle of chains and harness. The gunners on the limbers smoked -and talked. Occasionally there was a burst of laughter. It seemed that -that ominous thudding was a summons which concerned them not at all. -In the fog which drifted in patches across the road its origin seemed -enormously remote. - -The junior subaltern of the third and last battery in the column heard -the sound with less indifference. Each of those muffled shocks came -to him like a knock upon his heart. He listened for them anxiously -and shuddered, in spite of himself, as the air vibrated on his ears. -He needed none to tell him their meaning, novel though the sound was -to him. They were the first long shots of the opening battle. As he -listened, blindfold as it were in that fog, his animal tissues shrunk -at this menace of an untried experience, while at the same time another -part of him, the dominant, grew fretfully anxious lest the battery was -too far in rear, lest they should be too late. The conflict of these -opposing impulses in him made him nervous and fidgety. He wanted to -talk to someone, to discuss the situation, to exchange opinions upon a -host of possibilities. He looked longingly at the No. 1 of the leading -gun of his section as he walked his horse at the side of the leaders -and chatted quietly to the driver. The sergeant appeared so calm, so -strong with already acquired experience. He felt almost irresistibly -impelled to enter into conversation with him--opening phrases kept -coming to his tongue--but a shame at the weakness of his own nerve -restrained him. He braced himself with a thought of his rank and -responsibilities and remained silent. The subaltern was new to war and -new to the battery. He had come straight from the "Shop" with a draft -of men to replace the wastage of the last battle. He was very young -and, until that morning, very proud of himself. - -Unexpectedly, the column halted. Why? The subaltern chafed. It was -intolerable to idle there upon the road with that urgent summons -momentarily shaking the air. The concussions followed one another -much more quickly now and came with a sharper sound. They seemed to -run all along a wide arc stretched far to right and left in front of -him. Occasionally they came in heavy salvos that swallowed the noise -of isolated shots. He could see nothing. The fog lay thick upon the -road, a white curtain against which danced black specks as he strained -his eyes at it. The column stood still and silent. Only a jingling -of chains arose as the horses nosed at each other. Presently, as the -passengers in a fog-bound train hear the rumble of the other train for -which they wait, a sound came to him out of the mist and explained the -halt. It was the hollow rhythmic tramp of infantry. The sound increased -and then maintained itself at a uniform pitch. In the distance the -artillery salvos followed one another ever more quickly, peal on peal -of thunder. Still the hollow beat of boots upon the road continued. The -subaltern swore to himself. Were they to wait there while the entire -army passed? At last the hollow sound diminished, died down, ceased. A -sharply uttered order ran down the column. The line of vehicles moved -on again. - -For a long time they marched through the fog, drawing ever nearer -to the cannonade. There were no more halts. Nevertheless it seemed -to the subaltern that their progress was wilfully, culpably slow. -As a matter of fact, the column, responding to the magnetism of -battle, had involuntarily quickened pace. The physical anxiety of -the subaltern communicated itself to, and was misinterpreted by, his -brain. He imagined that he was concerned wholly for the fate of the -army if deprived of the valuable support of the brigade to which -he was attached. He conceived enormous disasters hinging on their -non-appearance. Suddenly he noticed, with surprise, that his knees were -trembling against the saddle, his hands shaking as they held the reins. -This discovery startled him. His anxiety for the army was obliterated -by another. Could he be sure of himself? A spasm of alarm shot through -him. Would that calm mysterious higher self in him lose control? He had -a glimpse of himself in a whirlwind of sensations, a maddened animal -dashing to escape. It must not be. He exercised his volition as an -athlete exercises a muscle, testing it. Desperately, he willed himself -to immobility. The tremor in his limbs did not cease. He agonised -lest someone should perceive it. Sweat broke out on his forehead. -Nevertheless his brain was clear. He held fast to that. Never mind -what his body did, at all costs his brain must be kept clear and cool. -Engaged in these introspections he forgot the fog, forgot the lagging -brigade, forgot the ever-swelling uproar in front of him. - -Suddenly the mist broke, rolled away from a sunlit landscape. They -were at the summit of a slight elevation. About them was open country, -dotted with trees and farms. In front the road dropped and then -mounted. He looked over the heads of the artillery-men before him -and saw a long column of infantrymen ascending the further hill. It -was for that column that the brigade had waited. The recognition -of the fact reawakened perception through a linked memory. He heard -again the pealing thunder of the guns, to which for some minutes he -had been oblivious. Instantly an intense, anxious curiosity took -possession of him. Where were they fighting? In the fog his mind had -formed a picture of lines of guns coughing out flame and noise at -each other, desperately in conflict, just at the other side of the -curtain drawn before his eyes. Now, the veil dropped, he looked at -reality and only so much of the picture persisted as to puzzle him. -Save for the column marching ahead there was no sign of life in that -open countryside. Yet the air was full of sound. No longer was it a -series of dull concussions. It was one vast, continuous, ringing roar, -broken at intervals by the sound of violent fracture as a puff of wind -came to his cheek. Excitedly, he strained his eyes at the distances, -seeking some point where he could localise the conflict. There was -nothing. Yes! Far ahead of him, beyond the hill which the infantry were -climbing, a faint haze of smoke hung in the air. In that haze tiny -puffs sprang into being and spread lazily. There, then! Encouraged, -his gaze searched the landscape. Far to his left, over a little wood -that closed the view, hung another such haze, and, as his eyes ranged -over the country, he saw a line of smoke-puffs leap from nowhere above -a hill to his right. The line was constantly renewed until the smoke -trailed across the blue sky like a cloud. A thrill ran through him. He -forgot himself, lost all memory of his doubts. He quivered, but it was -with eagerness to rush into the fight. Oh, to mount that hill and see -what was happening! The infantry drew up over it, disappeared beyond -the summit like a snake drawing in its tail. The artillery crawled -onward. - -He was calculating the minutes that must elapse before their arrival on -the crest when suddenly his hopes were dashed. The brigade was turning -off along a by-road to the left. Baulked of his desire, he swore -savagely, almost with tears. A man on the limber near him looked up in -sharp surprise. He desisted, clenching his teeth. Inwardly he raged. -As he too swung round the corner, his back to the direction of the -smoke-cloud he had so excitedly watched, it seemed that he was turning -out of the battle. The brigade moved for some distance along that road -and then halted, drawn close in to the hedge. Behind them swelled the -noise of tramping infantry, growing louder. The men who had followed -them were going to pass. They came, swinging along at a good pace, -steadily rhythmic. They passed, endlessly. The subaltern found himself -gazing curiously at the faces of men in the stream. Some were stern and -set, some laughed carelessly, some shouted jokes to the artillery-men, -many were strangely haggard and drawn. He noticed one man who gazed at -nothing with a rapt expression. His lips were moving. He was praying. -They were going into battle. The subaltern was again aware of the -thunder of the guns. - -The brigade waited. The tramp of the infantry had long since ceased. -They seemed alone, forgotten, on the road. Suddenly an order was passed -down the column. The subaltern repeated it, almost before he was aware -that he had heard it. "No. 3 Section--Prepare for action!" Instantly -the gun detachments leaped to the ground. The breech and muzzle covers -were removed and strapped to the front of the gun shields. The breech, -the firing mechanism, the ranging gear, the sights were swiftly -examined. The men on the ammunition wagons tested the opening of the -lids, looked to the fuse indicator, saw that the fuses were at safety. -These things done, they resumed their seats. The subaltern's heart beat -fast. Now? - -Minute after minute passed. The brigade waited in all readiness to -move. Presently the order came. "Walk!--March!--Trot!" They passed -quickly along the road. The subaltern looked ahead, saw his battery -leader turn through a gate into a broad meadow on the right. The other -batteries were turning into the field further up. He lost sight of one -of them. He arrived at the gate, wheeled into it. "By the left--Form -Battery Column!" The subsections of single guns drew out and up level -with the other gun of the section, each with its following wagon. -The first line or reserve wagons dropped behind. The battery trotted -smartly forward across the field. It was a large meadow, unintersected -by hedge or ditch, rising gently to the ridge whereto their original -road had climbed. At the summit was a small copse. Far in front the -subaltern saw a group of horsemen riding swiftly towards it. He knew -it for the colonel and his staff. Between him and them was a mounted -figure, halted, and, some distance further away, another figure. It was -the battery commander and the sergeant-major marking the position of -the battery and the line of fire. The battery went on. The ridge was -looming up close in front. "By the left--Form Line!" The guns wheeled -into a long line. Their accompanying wagons slackened speed, fell some -forty yards in rear. "Walk!--Halt!--Action Front!" The guns stopped. -The detachments leaped down. Two men seized the gun-trail, unhooked it -from the limber, gave the order "Limber drive on!" The horses trotted -quickly round in a half-circle and went to the rear. The trail was -carried round, reversing the gun. A moment later the attendant wagon -came up, placing itself close on the left, its axle a little in rear -of the gun-axle. About each gun in the line there was a second or two -of busy movement. The No. 1 threw back the traversing lever, laid the -gun approximately in the true direction, noted the level of the wheels. -Others lowered the shield, put on the brakes, fixed the sights. Two -others opened the ammunition wagon and half withdrew a number of rounds -in readiness. The subaltern's horseholder came up. As he surrendered -his mount he felt that he was stepping into the arena. - -He looked along the line of guns. The detachments of each were in -position, motionless--No. 1 kneeling on the left side of the trail, 2 -on the seat on the right-hand side, 3 on the left, 4 kneeling behind 3, -5 and 6 kneeling in rear of the wagon by the gun. At the right-hand end -of the line was the battery commander. In front of him a wagon-limber -had been placed for his protection. Up the hill-side men were swiftly -paying out a telephone wire. A lieutenant and a couple of look-out men -were cantering up to join the party now halted at the side of the copse. - -The subaltern turned to see the captain of the battery at his side. He -smiled and nodded. "How do you feel?" he asked. "Shivery?" The captain -was in command of the first-line wagons in reserve. He stood near the -battery to watch the expenditure of ammunition. - -The subaltern placed himself behind the wagon of his gun nearest the -commander, and waited, stiffly erect. He felt himself tingling with -eagerness, yet he could scarcely bring himself to believe that this -was battle. It might have been parade. He forgot the all-swallowing -roar about him, remembered only that he was in command of those two -guns, was responsible that they dealt out death coolly, accurately, -scientifically. - -The telephone was complete. A man knelt on the ground near the battery -commander, the receiver to his ear. Almost immediately there was a -sharp order. "Lines of Fire!" From each gun a man ran out quickly -towards the ridge with a couple of black and white posts. He planted -them in line and ran back. The angle of sight was passed down the -battery. The gun-barrels moved slightly, aiming at the invisible -enemy. Despite the ceaseless roar with which the air trembled, a -hush of expectancy seemed to lie over the line of guns. Other orders -came quickly down the battery from the commander. "Angle of sight -1·25´ elevation."--"Collective."--"Corrector 154."--"4100." No. 6 of -each gun called out the fuze. Five set it, passed the shell to 4 who -pushed it into the breech. Two closed the breech and adjusted the -range indicator. Three laid the gun and sat with his hand on the firing -lever. "Ready." - -"Fire!" The No. 1 of the first gun repeated the order. Three pulled -the lever sharply upwards. A long tongue of flame spurted out of the -muzzle with a deafening report. The gun-barrel shot violently back -under its hydraulic buffer and was in place again ere the eye could -well note the movement. The other two guns of the right half-battery -fired successively at three seconds' interval. The men at the telephone -received a message. It was transmitted as orders to the battery. "No. -1--30 degrees more right. No. 2--20 degrees more right, No. 3--30 -degrees more right." "Left half--30 degrees more right.--Corrector -162.--4300." The three shells already fired had gone too far to the -left. "Fire." The subaltern heard the order of the sergeant on his -right. "No. 4--Fire!" Then his own sergeants, "No. 5--Fire!" "No. -6--Fire!" He thrilled at the loud explosions. He was in action! He -was flattered to find how clear his mind was, how steady his nerve. -He supervised the laying of the guns as the next order came down the -line. "Corrector 158--4350.--One round battery fire." At five seconds' -interval the six guns fired one after the other. There was a wait. Had -they found the range? Yes! "Section Fire--10 seconds." He was engrossed -with his two guns as they were swiftly loaded and fired at the interval -ordered. - -Away to his left the other two batteries of the brigade were firing -likewise. The rapid, violent reports of the line of guns overlapped, -merged into one long-drawn-out explosion that intensified spasmodically -as two or more fired at the same instant. The clamour of the general -battle was obscured, forgotten. The subaltern glanced at the bare -hill in front of him, over which the shells from the brigade were -streaming at the rate of one hundred and eight a minute. On what were -they falling, two and a half miles away? A straggling thought in him -found leisure for the question while yet the main forces of his mind -were concentrated on the busy detachments and the guns they served. He -had scarce noted it when an order was passed down the battery. "Stand -fast." Immediately there was silence. Only a faint haze spread and -thinned between the gun-muzzles and the ridge to show that they had -been at work. What of the distant, invisible target? The captain, who -had been standing by the battery commander, passed on his way to the -wagons. The subaltern stopped him. - -"What was it?" he asked. - -"Battery coming into action--just caught 'em--wiped out," answered the -captain laconically and hurried on. - -The subaltern stared--horror-stricken involuntarily. Wiped out! He -tried to imagine the wreckage of that battery overwhelmed in a few -instants by a rain of shells coming from they knew not whence. He -failed. In that meadow, strangely quiet now despite a terrific din that -welled up from over the ridge, he could not picture it. The hill in -front was a wall across his vision. - -The brigade waited, but no further orders came. For the moment their -work was done. The guns stretched across the field, their muzzles -elevated, like a row of silent, expectant dogs. The lieutenant -commanding the adjacent section came up and asked the subaltern for a -cigarette. The subaltern gave it, repressing a smile. That lieutenant -never had any cigarettes. - -As he relaxed from the strain of those few furious minutes the -subaltern felt suddenly hungry. He remembered that he had filled a -pocket with biscuits and munched at one as he gazed idly along the -battery. Fitfully his mind returned to the brief activity of his guns -and he contemplated the recollection with comfort. Never had he lost -mastery over himself. He was a man tried and proved. - -With a vague dull curiosity he watched the group by the wood on the -hill above him. Members of it were moving to and fro. He noticed one -figure standing with both hands up to his face, his elbows sticking -out. He was examining something through his glasses. The subaltern -wondered whether it was the colonel and the thought came to him that on -a word from that man he and his fellows might be hurried to death as if -to execution. Every minute, orderlies rode at speed up to the group. - -Presently an order came to the battery. It opened fire again, this time -deliberately, without haste, at 2500 yards and in a slightly different -direction. Again the subaltern appealed to the captain for information. - -"Infantry advancing. We've only got a screen there. Sixth Corps coming -into action on our right. We're filling the gap between it and the -Second Corps. Enemy are trying to break through." - -"Oh," said the subaltern, "we're in for a hot time, I suppose." He said -it carelessly, without any idea of what was coming. - -"We most certainly are," said the captain. The emphasis of the reply -startled the subaltern, made him feel uneasy. He devoted himself to -his guns in an effort to banish the anxiety which threatened him. The -gun-squads were working with unhurried precision. A man kneeling behind -the wagon drew out the long projectile, set the fuze, passed the shell -to his fellow at the gun, the breech was closed, the lever pulled, and -the gun spoke with an exactly equal interval between rounds. They might -have been feeding a machine in a factory, so regular, so unemotional -was the operation. Behind the wagon the ground was littered with the -canvas cartridge clips. Behind the gun the flung-back brass cartridge -cases mounted to a heap. In front the air was blurry with gases. -Away to the right a new series of reports broke out. More batteries -had evidently come into action. Coalescing all individual sounds the -general clamour of the battle swelled in surges of hideous noise from -one deep-toned, continuous roar. The subaltern became habituated to it, -scarcely noticed it. - -Happening to look round he saw a howitzer battery coming into the -field. A few minutes later the regular sequence of its detonations told -him it had got to work. It was evident that troops were being hurried -up to meet the threatened attack. Along the hill-side to the right a -line of infantry was strung out, advancing towards the wood. Another -followed it. When he turned again he saw more infantry entering the -field and deploying. He got a glimpse of the road filled with brown -caps that just showed above the hedges. Almost immediately the battery -ceased fire. Only the periodic discharges of the howitzers continued. -The battery commander was kneeling over a map spread upon the ground. -Up by the little wood a heliograph was flashing rapidly. A little -further on a couple of men were flag-wagging with vigour. Some crisis -was approaching. Behind him the infantry commenced to advance. On his -left front a couple of men spurred horses up the flank of the bare -hill-side. - -The infantry passed the battery in their advance, the company that had -remained in column to avoid the guns deploying into the line. Another -line of supports followed and behind them another. They went steadily -up the hill, the two scouts from the battery passing through them as -they galloped back. The subaltern thrilled with a sense of imminent -danger. As yet he had seen no shell burst. Now it was going to begin. -The howitzer battery still fired over the heads of the advancing troops. - -Up and up went the first line. The subaltern watched it with a -throbbing heart. It opened its files as it went, and, when nearly -to the crest, broke into a steady run. It reached the summit. For -a moment it showed black against the sky. Now? Nothing. The line -disappeared over the hill. The second line mounted, doubled, showed -against the sky and instantly a crowd of smoke-puffs leaped into the -air above it. He saw tiny figures knocked all ways to the ground and -immediately afterwards a run of sharp crashes came to his ears. The -line disappeared over the hill, leaving behind figures that lay still -and figures that tried to crawl out of the way of the third line. He -watched them, fascinated, through his glasses. The third line advanced, -undaunted. The crowd of smoke-puffs broke out again ere it reached the -summit and continued while it passed. When it had gone, the subaltern -noted an increase in the number of prostrate figures. Behind him more -infantry collected in the field but no more advanced. The hostile -shrapnel continued to burst over an empty hill-side. Presently it -ceased. From the other side of the hill arose a furious, feverish -crackling, noticeable even in the general uproar. The battery waited -for it knew not what. - -Slightly wounded men began to trickle down the hill-side. One passed -close to the subaltern, lurching unsteadily. He was bleeding profusely -from a wound in the head. He stopped, swaying from side to side, and -looked at the lieutenant with a glare of idiocy. "Hell," he said with -sombre simplicity, "Hell," and then went on without waiting for a -reply. The lieutenant was inexpressibly shocked. It made him feel ill. -He turned and saw the wounded man walking like one blind, hands out, -across the field. The one word, "Hell," rang in his ears. He nibbled at -another biscuit to steady his stomach. "Pretty rotten that," he said -to himself, striving to get rid of the sensation by classifying it. -"Rotten." - -Then the orders came. The gun-teams dashed up and in a few moments -the battery was moving at speed to its left across the meadows. Its -route was a diagonal directed on the ridge. It went in all haste. Its -half-depleted wagons had been replaced by full ones from the first -lines. The subaltern felt that he was rushing towards a crisis. He was -strangely exhilarated as he galloped on towards a line of trees that -rose to the ridge at right angles. A gate showed in the line of trees -and beyond the gate a road. The battery slackened speed, dashed through -the gate, vehicle after vehicle, and turned to the right towards the -ridge. The road was narrow, walled with high hedges and overhanging -elms. It mounted to a shrub-filled notch on the height. There the -battery was halted. The half-filled wagons now composing the first -line drew into cover. The battery-commander and several men rode on. -The battery waited, screened by the wooded crest of the hill. From the -unseen landscape in front arose an appalling tumult of sound. It was -like the noise of a colossal conflagration; the roar of flames, and the -crackle of burning woodwork enormously magnified. - -Suddenly the battery moved on again. Quickly it mounted the crest and -dipped down on the other side. Again a gate on the right hand and in -a moment the battery was racing at full speed across a stubble-field. -A hundred yards ahead galloped the commander. To their left was open -country, full of sound. Above them, over the ridge upon their right, -a run of sharp explosions broke out. The subaltern heard them without -heeding. He shouted encouragement to his men as they dashed across the -field, though his voice was scarcely audible to himself. He was in a -whirl of excitement. Life hung on every second. - -"Halt!" The guns stopped, were unlimbered and reversed in an instant. -The teams raced back to cover. The wagons dashed up beside their guns. -Around them one or two shells burst harmlessly upon the ground, like -the first heavy raindrops which precede the storm. It broke. Overhead -the sky collapsed with a fearful crash. The subaltern saw a myriad -spouts of dust leap up from the stubble, saw his most trusted sergeant -fall like a sack across the gun-trail. There was another riving crash -overhead. The subaltern turned to hear an order megaphoned from the -sergeant-major at the end of the line. "Guns in Action--Just below -Church." He whipped out his glasses, focussed quickly for the church, -saw a row of pin-points of flame flicker along a hedge. A moment later -the air in front of him was shaken by a group of crashes, followed on -the instant by a long, high-pitched drone. In the middle of it he heard -the megaphone. "3350 yards--Corrector 140." The men worked desperately -at the guns, like sailors in a blinding storm. The shrapnel beat down -among them like hail, ringing on the shields. "Section Control." The -subaltern gave the order. "Fire!" The whole battery fired swiftly, his -guns among the first. He watched the distant hedge below the church -through his glasses, saw a crowd of smoke-puffs burst over it even -as the flame-points flickered again. He shouted an alteration of the -corrector and his voice was swallowed by the crash of the hostile -shells. Again the shrapnel droned, flicked up the dust around him. He -heeded it not. He saw a man roll over with a shell in his hands. He -sprang to him, seized the shell, thrust it into the breech without -the loss of a second. Rapidly the guns fired. Away to his right he -heard the quick detonations of the other guns and again the crash -of bursting shrapnel. He gazed again at the distant hedge. It was a -duel between that battery and his. Extinction was the portion of the -one which failed in speed and accuracy. With a savage thrill he saw -a high shaft of flame spout up behind the hedge. A shell--he claimed -it as his--had plumped into an ammunition wagon and exploded. Wrought -to fever-pitch, the artillery-men loaded and fired. A cloud of dust -hung about each gun, obscuring the view, stabbed every few seconds -by a sharp thrust of flame. Down the hill-side the smoke of shrapnel -which had burst too low drifted close to the ground like steam from a -passing locomotive. Away in the distance, along that hedge--the men -in the battery saw only that, were oblivious to all else--a cloud of -smoke gathered, grew thicker every instant. Under it the pin-points of -flame flickered with ever longer intervals between the flashes. Over -the battery on the hill the shrapnel burst with less and less of noise, -less and less of accuracy. The subaltern exulted. They were getting -the upper hand. He yelled stimulation to his men. His two guns fired -faster even than before, raining shells at the hedge. Suddenly he was -aware that the hostile shrapnel had ceased. Behind the hedge he saw a -cloud of dust arise. Their enemy was retiring at speed. He altered the -range, flung shells into the dust-cloud until it disappeared. "Battery -Control--Stand fast." The guns ceased fire. - -The subaltern turned to look at what he believed to be the wreckage -of his battery. It was littered with dead and dying men. A wagon lay -on its side, was being righted as he looked at it. Men pulled away -a body from underneath. Every vehicle in the line, guns and wagons, -was pock-marked with splashes of lead. The shield of one gun had -been neatly perforated by a shell and the crew of that gun lay about -it as they had been dispersed by the explosion. Their clothes were -still on fire. The subaltern was staring stupidly at them when the -lieutenant who never carried cigarettes approached. He opened his -mouth to speak--no doubt to ask for another cigarette--when suddenly -his expression changed to a sickly smile and he pitched forward. The -subaltern turned round in a flash of savage anger. This was murder. -They had finished fighting---- - -"Infantry advancing across stream--1800 yards," came the stentorian -voice of the sergeant-major. The subaltern understood as he ran back -to his guns. It was to repel the infantry that they were there. The -duel with the other battery was merely an episode. He looked down into -the valley below him, saw that it was filled with little grey figures. -A stream bisected the mass. They were advancing quickly, in rushes, -apparently without opposition. Some of the foremost were lying down, -firing at the height. Below him, from origins that were hidden by a -fold of the ground, rose the noise of a fierce and sustained rifle -fire. The battery got to work again. Methodically, evenly, it sprayed -that advancing horde with shrapnel. Other batteries, invisible to them, -were helping, for a larger number of shells burst over the foe than -they accounted for. The vicious little puffs of smoke multiplied. The -subaltern watched their effect with cool, unemotional interest. It was -like striking into a mass of ants. Numbers sprawled; the multitude was -undiminished. He hurled his thunderbolts upon them like a god, himself -serenely unassailable. A half-contemptuous pity for them arose in him -but did not interfere with the exact performance of his duties. The men -at the guns laughed. - -Suddenly, without warning, the air above him was riven with a triple -crash. The familiar drone followed, was blotted out by a second -violent detonation. Gusts of smoke blew across the sky. A hail of -shrapnel bullets kicked up the dust, pattered on the guns. His cap was -knocked from his head by an invisible hand. A man at the gun sprang -up, performed a grotesque parody of a dervish-dance, twirled with -outstretched arms, and collapsed. Another sat for a second with both -hands to his head and fell back. For a moment the service of the guns -was suspended. The subaltern ran towards it, shouting. The diminished -crew bent grimly to their task. The overhead crashes of the shrapnel -came down in one continuous detonation. The bullets rained down upon -them in heavy showers. The hostile artillery had got their range -exactly. Where were they? The subaltern searched the distance for -gun-flashes. He saw none. Their enemy was invisible, snugly tucked -away somewhere. It would have profited little to have discovered them. -His orders were to fire at the infantry and at the infantry his two -guns fired, as fast as depleted squads could serve them. The rest of -the battery fired likewise. He did not see how many guns were still in -action, could not spare a moment to look. His attention was held by the -swarm of advancing figures. The hail of shrapnel was an agony at the -back of his consciousness; he ignored it, resolutely. - -Suddenly a horse pitched and rolled, kicking violently, at his feet. It -startled him. He had not seen it arrive. A man disengaged himself from -the struggling animal, stood up and shot it dead with his revolver. It -was the captain. - -"In--command--at the infantry--section control--carry on," he panted, -and ran to his place at the end of the line. - -The battery commander was killed then! The thought flashed across his -mind, was lost in the urgent business of the moment. He shortened -the range, altered the corrector, aiming at the nearer edge of the -approaching infantry. A moment later three or four men arrived at a -sprint and reported themselves. The subaltern heard without emotion -that more had started, would never arrive. He detailed them. The -discharges of the guns followed faster. - -How long this phase lasted the subaltern never knew. Ordinary standards -of time could not measure that nightmare where he constantly shortened -the range, hurled unavailing thunders at an inexorably advancing -flood. He remembered the moment of agony when he saw that they were -running out of ammunition, the joyous relief when the first-line -ammunition-wagons raced up and stopped at the right hand of the -guns. Under a pall of smoke from the bursting shells he saw his -gun-crews dwindling, each man doing the work of two, of three. Once -a heavy explosion on the ground attracted his attention. It was the -commencement of a series. Choking fumes, now black, now yellowish, -drifted over him. A howitzer battery had joined their assailants, was -firing high explosive. Exasperated, he searched the distances for a -glimpse of the hostile guns. He saw no sign of them. They were being -overwhelmed, as they themselves had overwhelmed the battery he had not -seen, by foes whose concealment he could not even guess at. - -Suddenly--how, he knew not--the word was passed to him: "In command." -He ran to the end of the line, found the sergeant-major crouching -behind the wagon-limber. Blood was running from a diagonal bullet-score -across his face. Close by were the bodies of his predecessors in -command. - -"Four guns in action, sir," said the sergeant-major. "Brigade -commander's orders: 'Hold our ground.'" - -"How long ago?" queried the subaltern. - -"Some time," was the reply. "Not sure--but think the colonel and staff -are killed, sir." - -The subaltern looked along the line of guns, frowned at the tiny groups -of gunners. - -"Where's the observing party?" - -"At the guns, sir." - -"Rangetakers? Horseholders?" He had to shout to be heard in the -continuous crashing of the shells. - -"At the guns. Every man in action, sir, except with the horses under -cover." - -The subaltern took in the situation, glanced at the advancing infantry. -Despite the efforts of the battery the nearer of them had got close, -were now hidden by a fold in the ground. From that fold of ground came -a frenzy of rifle-fire and, he fancied, shouts and cries. With despair -in his heart, he determined to "hold his ground." Veiled in dust and -smoke his four guns fired irregularly but rapidly. - -A tumult of noise broke out to his right, almost behind him. - -"Outflanked?" he queried at the top of his voice. The sergeant-major -nodded. - -At the same moment he saw a swarm of brown infantry come over the fold -of ground in front of him. Disaster followed disaster. A high-explosive -shell swallowed one of his precious guns with an awful explosion of -flame and smoke. A soot-faced man ran up and shouted to him that the -wagon-supply was all but exhausted. Only the gun-limbers remained. The -subaltern glanced at the defeated infantry surging towards them. His -jaw set hard with a fierce resolve. - -"Call up the teams," he shouted. - -The sergeant-major signalled to the hill. A moment later the limbers -were racing over the shell-swept field. The survivors of the battery -sighed with relief as they fired away their last shells. - - * * * * * - -Far off upon a height the divisional artillery commander was watching -them through his glasses. "Why isn't that battery withdrawn?" he asked -irritably. He turned to give an order, then checked himself. "No, it's -too late," he said. He continued to watch them. - - * * * * * - -The guns were limbered up in a storm of shells. The subaltern threw -himself upon a horse that came handy. The detachments waited for the -order to retire. - -"The battery will _advance_--in line!--Gallop!" he yelled. - -He spurred his horse straight for the infantry. Behind him his three -guns bumped and leaped over the inequalities of the stubble-field. -Onward they raced. They tore through the approaching infantry as -though they were mere phantoms, regardless of those that fell before -their rush. Overhead the shrapnel burst less frequently. They hurled -themselves down into a depression and up again on the rise of a little -ridge. One or two brown soldiers were lying prone on it and firing -rapidly. - -"Halt!--Action front!--At the infantry!--Point blank!" yelled the -subaltern. - -In front were the grey-uniformed soldiers, swarms of them, not a -hundred yards away, rushing on them with gleaming bayonets. Working -like madmen, the artillery-men reversed the guns, loaded, aimed, -fired. Again and again the guns spoke. The squads worked like men -doomed, anxious only to take toll for their own lives. The shells, set -to zero, burst almost at the muzzles of the guns. Their bullets tore -through the groups of infantrymen, mowed them down. They seemed to melt -away. Behind him the subaltern heard a loud cheer. The beaten infantry -were being rallied, led again to the attack. - -In front of his guns the enemy surged forward, only to be swept away. -Hesitation was manifest among them. Men turned and ran back. The -rearward movement spread. He exulted in their confusion. As his guns -fired their last rounds, a line of brown infantry rushed past them -with a mighty shout, their bayonets levelled at the charge. The grey -infantry broke and fled. - -The subaltern looked round, wiping the acrid smoke-grit from his eyes. -Behind him, down the hill-side where his battery had fought, masses of -brown infantry were advancing. The tide had turned. - - * * * * * - -Far away, the divisional artillery commander took his glasses from his -eyes. "By G--d! that chap's saved 'em!" he said. He wrote out an order -and despatched it. - - * * * * * - -The subaltern stood by his line of silent guns, watching the fight -roll away from him. He felt atrociously hungry and thirsty. His -water-bottle was empty. He felt for the biscuits in his pocket. -There was not one. He wiped his hand across his mouth and there -was biscuit-dust upon the back of it. Then he cursed in bitter -disappointment. He could not forgive himself for having eaten those -biscuits, as it were in his sleep. - -Presently an order came and he drew the remnant of his battery out of -action. - - - - -PRO PATRIA - - -In the dark of the autumn evening the rearguard drew itself wearily -through the silent village. To a column of infantrymen, dusty, -dejected, haggard, with rifles held indifferently on the shoulder, -at the trail, or tucked under the arm, succeeded a procession of -miscellaneous vehicles--ambulances, army-wagons, brick-carts, gigs, -anything that would roll on wheels it seemed. Some of these vehicles -were loaded high with goods whose nature was hidden by the bulging -tarpaulins stretched tightly over them, but the majority held only -men who sat up listlessly, swaying with every jolt of the vehicle, -dull-eyed, mournful, and silent. The faces of most of them were -partially masked by bandages that passed at varying angles across their -heads. Others nursed an arm in a sling; some were apparently undamaged. -These were the slightly hurt. Here and there in the long train, a head, -swathed like that of an antique corpse, raised itself from the depths -of a wagon and peered over the side, striking a note of suffering -which found no repercussion in the men, fatigued beyond sensibility, -who marched by the wheels. After a longer or shorter space those -heads relapsed again out of sight, sinking without murmur or gesture, -in hopeless resignation. These vehicles bore the wreckage of the -army, swept up by the retreating rearguard which cleared the road of -everything that could afford an indication to the enemy of the nature -of the force in front. - -Behind the lugubrious procession a battery moved at the walk. The -animals that drew the guns were lean and spiritless; many were lame, -and the coats of all were dull with dust and sweat. Most of the teams -were short of their proper tale of horses. The guns, limbers, and -wagons were likewise thick with dust, and where this dust was not -it could be seen that they were scored and pock-marked by shrapnel -bullets. A professional eye looking at those guns as they passed would -have remarked that the breech and muzzle covers had been removed, were -strapped to the front of the shields. They were ready for instant -action, yet many of the men who served them swayed in sleep upon their -seats on limber or wagon. The countenances of all were grimed with -dirt, channelled by dried rivulets of sweat and moisture from eyes -irritated by acrid fumes. They looked like men who had been fighting -a conflagration. They passed, guns and wagons, and after them came a -squadron of cavalrymen sitting limply upon wearied horses. Another -long column of infantry followed, and, immediately upon its heels, an -endless cavalcade of horsemen. All, infantry, convoy, artillery, and -cavalry, moved onwards steadily, without hurry and without halts, at a -pace that had evidently long ago become automatic. - -The houses between which they passed were silent, deserted, for the -most part boarded up. No face looked out of any window, no light -glimmered in any interior, no smoke came from any chimney. At the door -of the only inn a couple of cavalrymen stood by their horses, sentries -posted to deter the thirsty straggler. Some of the men in the column -looked yearningly at the houses as they passed, imagining the joys -of sleep and food; the majority plodded onwards mechanically in the -failing light. All, perhaps, seeing the village, had dallied with the -idea of bivouac. To their disappointment had succeeded a despair of -ever halting. The officers by the side of their companies urged them -forward with monotonous voices, aware themselves of the uselessness of -their efforts. The infantry was marching at its best pace. Nevertheless -as the column drew out of the village its speed spontaneously -increased. A rumour had spread along it from end to end. They had given -the enemy the slip. - -The last cavalrymen, left at the entrance of the village until the -column should have cleared it, passed along the street, turning in -their saddles to look at the empty road behind them. The sentries at -the inn mounted and trotted quickly forward to rejoin their ranks. -The last man passed out of sight. The village street seemed strangely -empty in the absence of the floods of men that had been pouring through -it, with but little interruption, for many hours. Only the rhythmic -tramp of the infantry upon the road, pulsating through the air like -the audible systole and diastole of some mighty heart, and fading with -every moment, remained like a reminiscence of the army. Presently that, -too, ceased. Silence brooded over the houses whose outlines were -rapidly blurring with the oncoming night, a silence broken only by the -melancholy ululations of an owl that ventured to scour the deserted -street. - -That owl was baulked of its stoop by a sudden human utterance in a -Cockney voice. - -"It's all right, Bill--they've gone." - -The figure of a man was dimly defined in the doorway of one of the -cottages. He turned to answer a question. - -"Yus. The 'ole bloomin' lot. Rearguard an' all." - -The figure in the doorway was joined by another from the dark interior -of the cottage, and the pair slunk cautiously into the street and -looked up and down. - -"We've done it, Sam," said the man addressed as Bill. - -"Yus," replied Sam, peering around him under a frown from heavy brows. -"Now for that public--me ole Gawd-lummy ain't 'ad nothin' in it fer a -week." - -"'Struth!" said Bill, stretching himself. "I ain't 'arf stiff wiv -standin' in that poky little cupboard." - -"Not so stiff as those poor blighters 'll be to-night," said Sam, with -a thought of his marching comrades. "Now--right wheel! March! An' -see that you've got a cartridge in yer rifle," he added in a tone of -authority. It was evident that he was the leading spirit. - -There was the metallic click of a cartridge inserted into the breech -and then both men crept furtively in the shadow of the cottages towards -the inn. The hanging sign of the house was silhouetted black against -the sky just above their heads, when Sam stopped suddenly, pointing his -rifle into the gloom. - -"'Alt! 'Oo goes there?" he cried; under his breath he blasphemed -rapidly, ferociously; the blasphemy of a man whose nerves are chaos, -his speech-centres out of control. A shadowy figure moved in the -darkness. "'Ands up--or I fire!" shouted Sam, the menace rising harshly -out of his muttered vituperation. - -A pitiful voice replied from the obscurity. Its panic expressed itself -in a thin rising inflection that became almost a squeal. - -"Don't shoot!--don't shoot!" - -"Come out into the road," commanded Sam. "Cover 'im, Bill," he added. - -The figure obeyed, was now slightly more visible against the light -reflected from the white road. - -"What are you doin' 'ere?" asked Sam. - -The voice became rapid in nervous explanation. - -"I'm lame--got lamed miles back there--I was 'urryin' to rejoin my -regiment----" - -"I _don't_ think," said Sam sternly. "You're a bloomin' deserter, -that's wot you are." - -"Oh, chuck it, Sam!" said Bill suddenly. "More the merrier! Let's get -into this bloomin' public--I'm fair parched for a drink. Come along, -matey--don't take no notice of 'im. You didn't 'arf give us a scare, -though, my word!" he added, as he moved towards the door of the inn. - -The third man, however, persisted in justifying himself in a querulous, -tearful voice. - -"I tell yer I got lamed--I ain't no deserter--I just couldn't keep -up--there's a piece of skin off my foot as big as yer 'and--I'll show -it yer if yer don't believe me----" - -"Oh, chuck it," said Sam irritably, giving him an uninviting -march-route for his foot. "'Elp us to knock this blighted door in!" - -The three of them kicked and shouldered against the inn door without -result. The locks held firm. - -"'Ere, stand clear," said Sam, grasping his rifle by the muzzle. He -swung it about his head and brought it down against the door with a -heavy crash. Bill imitated him, swinging his reversed rifle like a -sledgehammer in a manner that bespoke the ex-navvy. The third man's -efforts were swifter if less effective. The noise of their blows -sounded terribly loud in the hush of that dead village, so loud that -once or twice they paused, frightened, their ears alert for answering -sound. None came and they resumed their attack. The door commenced to -splinter and to crack upon its hinges. Collectively they threw their -whole weight against it in sudden impact. It gave way and the three of -them followed it in a heap. - -They struggled to their feet, cursing, and someone struck a match. It -was Sam. The others followed the dim illumination into the interior. -There was an exclamation of joyful surprise and then the match went -out. The exclamation was renewed as Sam struck another and lit a -hanging oil-lamp. - -"Gawd blimy if they ain't left it for us!" - -They were in a small room at the back of the bar. A long table filled -most of the space, and on that table stood a large joint of beef, -several loaves of bread, and one or two pewter tankards. A number of -plates each containing food and crossed at odd angles by knife and fork -told a story that the overturned chairs about the room corroborated. - -"Left in a blamed 'urry," said Bill, picking up one of the tankards. -"Fancy leavin' the beer!" - -The third man pushed past him eagerly and sprang at the table, clawing -at the food. He almost wept. "Two days--I ain't 'ad nuffink fer two -days, mates," he whimpered between huge mouthfuls. He went on cramming -himself with everything he could reach, uttering the while inarticulate -cries of satisfaction that sounded like sobs. - -The others were rivalled but not surpassed in this gastronomical -performance. Less excitedly, they also were eating enormously. For -long minutes the three men sat at the table under the hanging lamp -without uttering a word. They fed like famished animals at a trough. -As their hunger grew less fierce, however, the two comrades looked -up and exchanged appraising glances with their new companion. He was -a little fellow, with a cunning face and an ill-shaped head that -needed no criminologist to class it. Petty rogue was stamped on him. -The metal letters and number on the shoulder-strap of his dirty and -ragged uniform showed that he, like themselves, belonged to a Cockney -battalion. The two comrades were burly fellows of the navvy type, -full-bodied, full-faced, narrow in the brows, powerful in the arms. -Distress, the utter lack of work, had probably forced them into one of -the new regiments. The little man, with equal probability, had enlisted -for similar reasons and had found escape not so easy as he expected. - -At last, replete, they desisted from their orgy of victuals. Bill -stretched his legs and looked good-humouredly at his comrade. - -"This ain't better than the army, I don't think!" he opined, qualifying -the army by an epithet which in its circumstances was not inappropriate. - -"Curse the army!" replied Sam, frowning from under his heavy sandy -brows. He shivered with the commencement of digestion. "Light the fire, -Bill," he commanded brutally. "And you," he added, turning to the -little man, "go an' get some more beer--an' don't drink any or I'll -smash your bloomin' 'ead in!" - -Bill, always in awe of his friend, had already commenced to obey, but -the little man was not yet broken to Sam's discipline. - -"'Ere!--'Oo are you orderin' about?" he expostulated in his thin, -aggrieved voice. Then he dodged quickly to escape a flying tankard. -With a frightened glance at the burly tyrant, he hastened out, jug in -hand. - -When he returned, he deposited several packets of tobacco on the table -and pushed them towards Sam. "Thought per'aps you'd be wantin' some, -mate," he said humbly. "There's a 'ole barrel o' beer in the bar. If -'e'd 'elp me, I could get it in 'ere." - -"Go and 'elp 'im, Bill," ordered Sam, pocketing the tobacco. - -The two men rolled in the barrel of beer and hoisted it onto the table. -Then, with full tankards handy and their pipes smoking like factory -chimneys, the trio pulled their chairs up to the fire. - -"Curse the army, I say!" said Sam in a challenging voice, apropos of -nothing. He had been staring moodily at the crackling logs. "I want to -get back to my wife an' kids." - -"'Ear,'ear!" said Bill, raising his tankard before he drained it. -"Curse the----army!" - -"Chins!" said the little man. The proposal was drunk unanimously. - -"I'm fed up with it," continued Sam, still in his mood of heavy -reflection, "abso-bloomin'-lutely fed up! Marchin' 'ere, marchin' -there, march all day, march all night; w'en you do stop, nothin' to -eat; march back w'ere you come from, then right about face and march -ag'in till you don't know w'ere you are. I joined the bloomin' army to -fight, not to go on a blighted walkin'-tour!" - -"Fight!" chimed in the little man. "You ought to 'a' been wiv us the -other day! Talk about fightin'! Our company fought three thousand on -'em for hours an' hours--all alone. We killed 'undreds of 'em, me -an' about a dozen others, till we 'ad to retreat. That's wot I calls -fightin'!" - -"Is it?" sneered Sam. "You wos one o' that picket guard wot run away -from a cow, you mean. Fightin'! That ain't fightin'--bein' shot at -by swine you can't see. I ain't 'ad a sight o' one on 'em yet, not -one--an' yesterday forty men of our company was killed w'ere we laid in -a 'tater-field. Ain't that so, Bill?" - -"Forty-two," corrected Bill, "an' you couldn't find some of 'em after -the shell 'ad 'it 'em." - -"That's it," continued Sam, "shells! Shells plumpin' down and chokin' -yer, shells over'ead as if the sky was breakin' in and droppin' down -in bullets. Shells! That's wot I can't stand--bein' 'it on the back of -the 'ead w'en you're lyin' down an' takin' cover accordin' to orders. -It fair got on my nerves--all day, shells, shells, shells, an' not a -mouthful to eat, an' then, at the end, right about face, quick march, -we're beat. Beat! We'll see if we get beat! No,--it's just bloomin' -silly--they march us orf our feet for a week just to make us a target -for their damn artillery and then tell us we're licked and 'ave got -to march back double-quick. I'm fed up wiv it. I've chucked the blank -army. Chucked it, d'yer 'ear?" he turned savagely on the little man. - -"You're right, mate," said the little man, standing up to refill his -tankard at the barrel. "So 've I. W'y should we fight? That's wot I -arsks yer. We're the pore workin'-man--we ain't got no property," -he developed the manner of a street-corner orator, and thumped his -tankard on the table. "We ain't got no stake in the country. Let -them as 'as got a stake in the country fight for it, says I. Not get -a pore _h_onest workin'-man to go an' do it for 'em. 'Tain't right, -mates. That's w'y I chucked the bloomin' army, I don't mind tellin' -yer--because I felt it wasn't right! I'm a _h_onest workin'-man an' I -don't believe in war." - -"'Ear, 'ear," said Bill sleepily. - -"Chuck it!" commented Sam unsympathetically, regarding the hands of the -orator. "You a workin'-man! You ain't never done a day's work in yer -life, unless you calls work pickin' pockets at the races. I don't want -no Socialism--an' I don't want no war, neither. I wants to get back to -my missus an' the kids an' a regular job." - -"'Ear, 'ear," said Bill. "Wot price the Ole Kent Road on a Saturday -night, Sam?" - -"That's wot I was thinkin'. Is to-night Saturday, Bill?" - -"Cursed if I know," was the reply. "I've lost count." - -Sam sat gloomily looking into the fire. In his brain was a vision of -the great thoroughfare, lined with naphtha flares, thronged with people -who clustered about the stalls, here and there the blaze of lights upon -the white-and-gold façade of a picture-palace, the yellowish radiance -of a public-house. He visualised it now, distant from it, as the -rustic looks back to his village, sentimentally. There the incidents, -commonplace enough, sordid even, which had made his life something -individual to himself, had linked themselves one by one. - -"Bill," he said huskily, "if I saw those blank foreigners marchin' up -the Ole Kent Road, I'd go for 'em--if there wasn't a man to 'elp me." - -"'Ear, 'ear!" said Bill. "So would I." - -"I've got a bit o' skirt meself wot lives just off the Ole Kent Road," -said the third man in a tone of reminiscence. "Let's 'ave some more -beer. I say," he remarked suddenly, having refilled his mug, "if the -army comes back it'll be a fair cop for us, won't it?" - -"I ain't goin' back," said Sam sturdily, still gazing into the fire. -"I'm fed up--and w'en I'm fed up I'm fed up." - -Bill had wakened at the suggestion. - -"But s'pose they come back, Sam? Wot'll we do?" - -The third man interposed. - -"'Tain't wot we'll do. It's wot they'll do. They'll shoot us, by -Gawd they will!" Panic came into his sharp little white face. He was -desperately in earnest. "They'll shoot every man of us!" - -"_They_ won't come back," said Sam. - -"Ho! Won't they? And 'aven't they countermarched before? W'y--I 'eard -an officer say only this afternoon that they'd be 'avin' another go at -'em to-morrow." - -"Did yer, really?" asked Bill, now thoroughly frightened. - -"'Strue as I stand 'ere!--'We'll march back quick an' catch 'em,' 'e -said," the little man invented rapidly. "An officer in the cavalry, it -was. Staff-officer, shudn't wonder." - -"Oh, my Gawd!" cried Bill, his beer-muddled faculties dispersing before -a gale of fear. "'Ere, Sam--I'm orf! Come on! You brought me into this, -yer know--I didn't want to desert. I told yer so, lots o' times--an' -now!--Come on!--I ain't goin' to stop 'ere to get shot!" - -"'Arf a mo!" said the little man. "'Tain't no good runnin' orf in that -uniform. Wot we've got to do is to find some togs. Then if they comes -back we're just _h_onest rustics, see?" - -Sam stood up. The sudden panic of his companions had communicated -itself to his slower brain. He also trembled at the prospect of -recapture. - -"That's the ticket, mate. You've got it. You're a smart little cove. -Wot's yer name?" This, he implied, was condescension. - -"Hoswald--Hoswald Smiff--my farver was a toff, a flash cove, 'e was. -Come on, mates--there's sure to be some togs upstairs--shudn't wonder -if they've left some dibs be'ind 'em, too." - -"They left the beer, anyway," said Bill. His tone implied that people -who left beer would leave anything. - -Rather unsteadily, the trio ascended the steep and narrow stairs of the -inn. Sam carried a lighted candle which Oswald Smith had found in the -kitchen. A disappointment awaited them. In every room the drawers stood -open, empty, their contents carried off. The trio swore in harmony -and in fugues. They cursed with the pointless fluency of drunken men -baulked of an intention. Then they lurched downstairs again. - -"Wot'll we do now?" asked Bill, his face pale with fright. "They'll be -on us before morning, sure!" - -"Certain!" said Oswald. - -"I ain't goin' back," said Sam doggedly. "I'm fed up." He stood and -tried to think, his mind harassed by the necessity for a disguise -which had been suggested to it. - -Bill drank deeply from his tankard and, in the middle of the draught, -was visited by a brilliant idea. - -"I know," he cried. "Let's cut the letters orf our uniforms. They won't -be able to tell w'ere we come from an' we can make up some yarn--say we -found 'em--'ad our own togs pinched by the soldiers." - -The others seized on the suggestion. To their alcoholised brains the -plan seemed more than feasible; it was certain of success. Feverishly -and clumsily they ripped the regimental letters from each other's -uniforms and cast them into the fire. The identification labels, -everything which could point to their connection with the army, -followed. They stood, anonymous it seemed to them, in their stripped -khaki. - -"That's done wiv," said Sam, with a heavy sigh. "Let's 'ave some more -beer." - -Joyous now, their minds relieved of the fear of recapture, the trio -refilled their tankards and their pipes. They settled themselves again. - -"I say, mates," said Oswald, "ever 'eard the yarn of the bloke -'oo----?" He told the story and, ere the noisy laughter which greeted -the end had died away, began another. He revealed himself as a fellow -of rare social qualities. His repertory of anecdotes, many of them -relating shady episodes of his own career, was inexhaustible. On his -own confession he was a sharper or worse; the humour of his experiences -the eternal humour of the sharp-witted clown and the dull policeman. -He diversified his entertainment with comic songs rendered with more -verve than elegance. Bill obliged with others of a sentimental nature. -They drank beer and more beer. They bellowed out choruses whose rhythm -was marked by the heavy beating of tankards upon the table and laughed -and shouted as though they sat at a "free-and-easy" in the Old Kent -Road. The fire blazed up the chimney, fed by chairs demolished one -after another. Such merry men as they could not condescend to the -fetching of fuel. The room was thick with tobacco-smoke. On the floor -little lakes of beer communicated by a rivulet whose source was the -spigot of the barrel. The three men gave themselves up to a roaring -orgy. They forgot entirely the army which was marching away from them, -the other army which approached. - -At last, in an atmosphere heavy with debauch, they slumbered, three -worthless soldiers of whom any army was well rid. - - * * * * * - -Sam was awakened from a muddled dream of a tenement near the Old Kent -Road by a rough hand upon his shoulder and the sound of a peremptory -voice. - -"All-ri', Bill," he murmured, "revalley 'asn't sounded yet." Then he -opened his eyes, tried to orientate himself in his surroundings. It -was morning. He was in an unfamiliar room and the room was filled with -unfamiliar men, dressed in a strange uniform. His shoulder was again -roughly shaken. The voice, uttering words foreign to him, but whose -meaning was not in doubt, spoke again. A strange stern face was thrust -close to his. Sam got on his feet, still bewildered. Immediately he -felt his arm firmly grasped. His companions were undergoing similar -treatment. At the sight of them, the incidents of the previous night -returned to his memory. Recapture? He was reassured by the foreign -incomprehensible language about him. He would give himself up -comfortable as a prisoner. His dangers were over. - -Oswald was in the grasp of two stalwart captors, the frightened eyes -in his cunning little face looking up wildly into their unemotional -countenances. Bill, who had slid with his head under a chair in the -stupor which followed their orgy, was less easy to awaken. The strange -soldiers kicked him liberally, eliciting sleepy curses but scarce a -movement. - -Sam could not repress a grin; Bill's morning recall to the sorrows of -this waking world was usually made in this manner. - -Then he was pushed on by a firm, unrelenting hand which reminded him -vividly of that of a policeman. As he was propelled through the door he -had a glimpse of Bill being hoisted bodily on to his feet by several of -the strange soldiers. Behind him, Oswald was asking imploring questions -in his thin expostulating voice. They received no reply. The trio were -pushed swiftly, inexorably, into the street. - -Outside in the bright sunshine they perceived that the village was -full of cavalrymen garbed in an unfamiliar uniform. Their position -was obvious. They had been captured by the enemy's advance-guard. -Just without the door they were halted and the danger of any movement -was explained to them in dumb show by a soldier who allowed them a -disconcerting view down the muzzle of a rifle. - -In front of the inn was a rustic bench and table, occupied at the -moment by a big, fair-moustached man who bent over a map. Around him -a group of officers stood waiting in respectful attitudes. Presently -the fair-moustached man looked up and said a few words to one of -the officers. He had a good-humoured, smiling face, that man. The -trio contemplated it anxiously and drew some comfort from its jovial -appearance. - -Sam turned to his companions. - -"Mates," he said huskily, "we're copped. But mind, we don't know -nuffink. We ain't goin' to give the boys away, are we?" - -"No, Sam," replied Bill, even more huskily. "Wot'll they do to us, -d'yer think?" - -"Nuffink," was the answer. "We're soldiers--they don't shoot prisoners." - -Oswald drew a long breath of relief at this. Sam looked at him sharply. - -"Mind--not a word, you little skunk--or I'll bash yer 'ead in." - -"All right, mate," said Oswald. "I ain't goin' to peach." - -The good-humoured officer on the bench spoke a couple of sharp words. -Immediately the prisoners were pushed in front of him. A pair of very -blue eyes looked over them, seemed to smile at them, they thought and -hoped. - -"What are you?" he asked sharply in English. - -"Soldiers, sir," replied Sam quickly. Not very confident of the -discretion of his companions, he was anxious to make himself the -spokesman of the party. - -"Indeed? What corps?" - -The blue eyes smiled on Sam. He felt them dangerously fascinating. -It was with an effort that he kept himself from a reply and remained -silent. His dull faculties were desperately on the defensive. - -"What corps?" - -No answer. - -The officer drew out a heavy gold watch. He smiled outright at them. - -"I give you five minutes. If you do not reply, you will be shot against -that wall." - -"We're soldiers--prisoners of war, sir," said Sam. "You can't shoot -prisoners of war." - -"Indeed!" The blue eyes above the fair moustache looked innocently -amused. "You call yourselves soldiers--to what corps do you belong? To -what regiment? Where are your shoulder-straps?" He got angry suddenly. -"Tell me at once what regiments--what time they passed here, or you go -against that wall!" - -Sam set his teeth and went pale. The consequences of their anonymity -became plain to him. He met the eyes of the quick-witted little Cockney -rogue. The cunning, ill-shaped face was lit with a feverish excitement. - -"Don't yer see, mate?" he whispered eagerly. "Our chaps 'ave give 'em -the slip. 'E wants to find out wot corps passed through 'ere----" - -"Silence!--Answer, you!" - -The fascinating blue eyes looked at Sam, almost mesmerised him. - -"We're soldiers--prisoners o' war," he repeated doggedly. - -"Soldiers! Soldiers without regiments--without corps! Prove it then, my -man. Quick! I have no time to waste. Where are your shoulder-straps? -Your identification papers?" - -The trio remained silent. The officer adopted a more cajoling tone. - -"Come, come, my man. You don't want to throw your lives away on a -trifle. I am willing to treat you as prisoners of war if you prove to -me that you are soldiers. Tell me your regiments." - -The trio stood in stubborn silence, the ex-navvies rather sheepish, the -Cockney rogue watching the questioner with quick and knowing eyes. "No? -Then you are spies." He turned to his men and uttered a brief order, -pointing to Sam. - -On the instant the ex-navvy found himself pushed with his back against -the wall, looking into a grim row of rifle-barrels. The squad that -menaced him stood equably waiting the word of command. The officer -rose, walked across to him and smiled in his face. Once more he drew -out his watch. - -"One minute," he said pleasantly. "One minute to prove that you are a -soldier and no spy." - -Sam stood as erect as suddenly enfeebled knees would let him. He felt -the bricks of the wall pushing against his back in the instinctive -retreat of his body from the imminent danger. His eyes were fixed on -the officer who stood calmly regarding his watch. He felt sick and -dizzy and very cold. He shivered as in a mantle of ice. His mouth went -dry. The panic-stricken part of his brain began an attempt to count the -seconds without any revolt at the stubborn decision of his directing -self. One, two, three--twenty--thirty--the minute seemed endlessly -long. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, striving -desperately to bring himself to speech in the fraction of time which -remained to him. He succeeded. - -His voice came raucously, an agonised appeal. - -"Mates!--Remember--the Ole Kent Road!" - -The officer uttered a sharp sound and the windows shook with the loud -report of the rifles. In a thin haze of smoke, the prisoners saw Sam -lurch forward, his arms outstretched, swaying on his toes for one -ghastly moment ere he pitched. - -The officer calmly replaced his watch and brushed past Oswald. He -seized Bill by the arm. - -"You!" he said, with that sudden and disconcerting anger of his. "Will -you speak?" - -Bill stood sheepishly staring at him. - -"The Ole Kent Road--'Ome!" he mumbled to himself. Relentless hands -pushed him against the wall. At his feet lay Sam, a dark pool forming -under him. - -"Will you speak?" vociferated the officer. - -"'Ome," mumbled Bill. "'Ome!--Oh, Gawd!" - -He ignored the demand--seemed not to hear it. - -The officer, exasperated, stamped upon the gravel. Again he uttered the -sharp order, again the windows shook. Bill slid down the wall with his -head on his breast. - -The officer turned to the survivor, the petty rogue, nurtured -fatherless in a London slum. "Now, my man," he said cheerfully. "You -see I am not to be trifled with. Come--tell me what corps passed -through here yesterday." He added with a smile of contempt, "These -scruples are absurd in a deserter." - -A cunning grin came over Oswald's face. - -"Yah!" he said. "Deserter, am I? So I am, but I ain't goin' to peach -on my pals. They've give yer the slip right enough--an' yer knows it. -Yah!" He finished with an ugly grimace. - -A moment later, he also stood with his back to the wall. - -"Yah!" he cried, and grinned as at some private joke. - -The rifles spoke and he spun and fell. In his pocket was the officer's -gold watch. - -At the foot of a bullet-marked wall lay three worthless soldiers. Far -away, a beaten army, lost for the nonce in the fog of war, rallied -itself without molestation for another struggle. - - - - -NERVES! - - -A heavy north-east gale was setting with a flowing tide into the River -Ems. Out at sea dark grey rainclouds blew raggedly over a background -but little lighter in colour. The distant sea stretched away, cheerless -and leaden, to a horizon that was whelmed in a grey mist where the -elements met, indistinguishable. The nearer waters broke in a confused -turmoil of white-caps on either hand. A heavy swell rolled dark between -these shoals. Up the estuary a blur of dirty brown smoke, rising from -behind a line of bleak sand-dunes, smudged the sagging sky. It rose -from the little town of Emden, round the corner. A couple of tall -posts, wireless "aerials," stood out black against the smoke. - -In the river, just off the low sandy point, lay a long, four-funnelled -cruiser. In the heavy rain-squalls which swallowed her every few -minutes she looked like a thing of mist, so well did the grey of her -hull and superstructure blend with the grey of sea and sky. She pitched -slowly and gently at the taut-stretched cables of her bow anchors, her -nose pointed seawards towards the incoming tide. From her steam-pipes -the white vapour which issued, deafeningly stridulant, was torn -violently away in horizontal pennons. At her peak a small flag blew out -stiffly. At her stern, the ensign--black rectangular cross on white, -centred with the crowned eagle and quartered with a small black cross -upon the national colours, black, white and red--flattened itself out -in the wind with loud claps as the gale half-released it for a second -and then seized upon it again. - -To and fro upon her navigating bridge the oilskin-clad officer of the -watch paced restlessly. Under his sou'-wester, anxious, strained eyes -peered from a haggard face whose weather-beaten brow was paled to an -unhealthy yellow. Up and down he went, but never for a moment did he -take those anxious eyes from the dark channel ahead of the ship's bows. -The look-outs, posted at each end of the bridge close behind the canvas -"dodger," gazed with equal fixity towards the sea. On their faces the -same tension, the same evidence of sleepless nights, was visible. -Behind them, in a wheelhouse from which the glass panels had been -removed, stood a couple of quartermasters. Stiffly motionless behind -the steering telemotor they conversed in low nervous voices. The hands -of one of them, a giant of a man, shook continuously as he held them -pendent against his thighs. - -A blue-uniformed officer with gold bands across his cuffs appeared upon -the bridge and approached the lieutenant. They saluted each other with -a friendly nod after the formal fingers to the brow. - -"Any orders yet, Herr Leutnant?" asked the new-comer. He was a heavily -built man with a bluish nose that bent birdlike from between protruding -eyes. He worried continually with thumb and finger at a ragged grey -moustache. He followed the lieutenant to a position in the centre of -the bridge. - -"We start directly," said the navigating lieutenant in a weary voice. -"When the Herr Kapitän returns." - -Both stared silently down at the roof of the conning-tower just below -them, and at the two long guns which emerged from the turret in front -of it. The open manhole in the conning-tower vitalised the familiar -objects with a touch of grim expectation. - -"Ach!" said the engineer at last gloomily. "It is perhaps better--I -cannot sleep here--I cannot read." - -"Sleep!" echoed the lieutenant. "I have not slept for a week. I see -always those cursed destroyers slipping through the mist--I see them -when I close my eyes--I see them when I am on duty--I know no longer -whether I see them or not--and worse than the destroyers----" he broke -off suddenly. - -"Ach, ja," said the engineer, "you have had a bad time--but you can at -least see the danger coming--sometimes, down there, I begin to imagine -things--I have not let myself imagine, Herr Leutnant--I have read the -sublime words of Zarathustra--I could always read them--but now I can, -no longer. How long have we been here, Bielefeld?" he finished abruptly. - -"Four days." - -"Ach so! I thought it was a week--what days!" - -"Jawohl!" - -The two men fell silent again, staring at the sea. Once the lieutenant -made a quick movement of alarm, whipped out his binoculars, and gazed -into the grey distance. He put them back after some minutes without a -word. On the whole ship was no other sound than the strident rasp of -the escaping steam and the drone of the gale through the wind-tautened -stays. - -The engineer spoke again. - -"What does Borkum say?" - -"Enemy disappeared into the offing--could not keep their stations in -this weather." - -"It is our chance, then." - -"Yes--perhaps." - -"You fear----?" - -"Everything--in this rat-trap. The picket-boats are all in. If only we -could start!" - -"Jawohl--anything is better than this--besides, the movement of the -engines is soothing--this stillness day after day is unnerving. If only -we had some good Welsh coal! This soft stuff! One burns and burns and -gets no heat!" - -"And advertise ourselves to every cursed scout in the North Sea!" - -A sailor, heavy in oilskins, drew up and saluted. - -"The Herr Kapitän is coming, Herr Leutnant." - -The engineer disappeared. His friend went to the starboard rail of the -bridge and looked over. A motor-boat was approaching in a smother of -flying spray. - -A boatswain's whistle shrilled loudly. A minute later the captain came -up the ladder onto the bridge, shaking the water from his oilskins like -a wet dog and dabbing at his square reddish beard with a handkerchief. -The lieutenant saluted, searching his commander's face for a hint of -the orders he bore. The captain's eyes were hard, the eyes of a man who -had been contemplating desperate possibilities. His bluish lips cut in -a thin straight line across his beard. He spoke curtly. - -"Get the starboard anchor up. Tell the Herr Stabs-Ingenieur I wish to -speak to him." - -He went heavily into the wheelhouse and bent over the chart. Outside, -the lieutenant blew his whistle and shouted an order. An instant -later the shrill piping of the boatswain repeated the call. There was -a scurry of men along the deck towards the bows and the clank of a -capstan hauling in the heavy chain. - -The staff-engineer stood in conversation with the captain. In -the low murmur of their voices certain words were emphasised by -repetition--"Knots--this coal--revolutions--coal." The captain nodded. - -"Do your best," he said briefly. - -"We make a dash for it?" queried the engineer. Still he worried at his -ragged moustache and the protruding eyes above his beaklike nose moved -with little quick stares like a frightened bird. - -The captain smiled grimly. - -"We rejoin the fleet--while we can--those are the orders. We will do -our best and God be with us--do you find that maxim in Zarathustra, -Herr Wollenmetz?" - -The engineer shrugged his shoulders. - -"Ach! I know no longer, Herr Kapitän--anything is better than -this--anything!" - -"We start at once," said the captain and went out onto the bridge -without more words. The ship's bugler saluted and stood stiffly to -attention as he emerged. - -"Battle stations!" said the captain. - -The howl of the gale in the rigging was lost in the sternly joyous -run of brazen notes, taken up and repeated all over the vessel. For a -minute or two the erstwhile deserted decks swarmed with hurrying men. -They disappeared rapidly into turrets, fighting-tops, fire-control -stations or stood, alert, behind the unprotected anti-torpedo guns. - -There was a buzz of excited voices which would not easily be hushed. -At last the never-diminished tension of four long days of inaction was -broken. They were going to move, to do something. No longer were they -to lie there, waiting, waiting, while perhaps at any minute destruction -was creeping stealthily towards them under the surface of the water. -They forgot the wearing vigils of the previous weeks at sea, the -unrelieved strain of watching the horizon for a grey spot in daytime -or a blur closer at hand in the obscurity of the night. They forgot -the awful minutes which dragged out, heavy with their lives, as they -approached an unknown ship, forgot the paralysing uncertainty when the -wireless began on its mysterious message, reporting her. They forgot -the night alarms, the perpetual dodging of the hostile cruisers, the -chases and the escapes and the last fierce pursuit, which had driven -them, all but out of coal, behind the shelter of Borkum Island. The -memory of these things was blotted out by the nerve-sapping suspense -of the past four days, while they waited for a chance to elude the -hostile cruisers watching for them in the offing. Now they experienced -the gladness of a release as from an untangible but none the less -close prison. Nevertheless, all of this emotional and mental strain -was marked in eyes dark-rimmed and faces that had grown thinner. The -alacrity of their movements now was not the alacrity of men who leap, -calm-souled and confident, to test their strength in a crisis; it was -the fussiness of neurotics who are glad to translate their nerve force -into physical action as an escape from the barren travail of their -brains. - -Volumes of black smoke rolled heavily from the four funnels of the -cruiser, were blown rapidly by the gale in one thick all-obliterating -mist towards the low shores. An engine-room telegraph clanged harshly -while the port anchor, dripping black mud, came slowly up to the -hawse-hole. Again the telegraph clanged. There was a flurry in the -water astern, and the long grey cruiser commenced to move along the -dark fairway into the stormy grey of the autumn afternoon. - -Quickly she got into her stride. On the port bow the island of Borkum -was beginning to loom up just distinguishable through the driving -scud. The wireless was talking with it. Borkum reported with steady -regularity: "No enemy in sight." The cruiser hurried down the eastern -branch of the Ems, meeting a heavy swell that rolled darkly towards -her to be divided into two thin translucent curtains of water poised -like wings on either side of her bows. The shoals to port and starboard -glimmered away into the distance, wide stretches of running, leaping, -jostling white-caps. The water under their lee showed an ugly, dirty -yellow that contrasted with the black waves of the channel. On the -bridge the navigating lieutenant still peered anxiously into the veiled -horizon. Every now and then he glanced back at the welter of black -smoke issuing from their funnels and muttered fluent curses that were -the perverted expression of the prayer in his heart. Behind him stood -the captain and the commander, conversing in the intervals of raising -their binoculars to their eyes. - -At every minute a message from the wireless room was brought to the -captain. Borkum was still talking. Suddenly the tenor of its messages -changed. "Two British cruisers passing the minefield in the Western -Ems." A moment later Emden reported three submarines at the fork of -the channel behind. The captain smiled grimly. He could not now go -back, but apparently he had given his warders the slip. He went to -the engine-room telephone and spoke a few words to the chief. In -answer the masses of black smoke from the funnels rolled out even -more densely than before. The curtains of flying water at the bows -rose a little higher and remained at the elevation. Borkum announced: -"Mines evidently swept or damaged--cruisers untouched." In fact, in -slight lulls of the gale, slow dull booms were audible to leeward. The -batteries on the island were firing. The captain turned and laughed -with the commander. The situation could not be more favourable. They -had as good as escaped. - -A few long minutes and they had reached the open sea. Borkum was a -grey blur on their port quarter, the land to the east of them passed -into invisibility. Here they felt the full force of the gale. The -cruiser nosed into great waves that leaped green above the bows and -fell with a heavy thud upon the deck. She endeavoured to combine a -steady roll with violent pitching, and the officers on the bridge -clutched at the rail with one hand while with the other they pressed -their glasses hard against their eyes. The veils of driving mist which -swept continuously across the waters might hide a menace that would -loom up at any instant as destruction. Suddenly a telephone bell rang -in the wheelhouse behind them. A man ran out, saluted and reported: - -"Submarine right ahead--about 1000 metres." - -The message came from an observing station on the foremast. The three -officers on the bridge searched the sea in front of them with their -binoculars. Yes! No! Yes! The navigating lieutenant saw a flitting -patch of foam on the dark sea, a splash in the air as a wave lifted. -He recognised it instantly as a periscope cutting through the water, -coming straight towards them. They must shoot--shoot at once! He turned -to his superiors. The captain had already shouted one order, was now -yelling instructions to the men at the port anti-torpedo guns. The -cruiser turned slightly to starboard. Onward drove the patch of foam, -aiming apparently at their side. The lieutenant felt his left hand -hurt him--it was the intensity of his nervous grip upon the rail. -Behind him he heard a sudden order, followed instantly by the sharp, -splitting report of the light guns. At the same moment the circle of -a conning-tower broke the surface of the sea, followed by a glistening -whale-back. As it emerged he saw it veiled in a sheet of flame, a film -of smoke. He had a glimpse of a great hole in the whale-back and then -the submarine dived nose foremost, kicking up her stern in the air as -she went. For one awful, ghastly second the lieutenant had a view of -the large initial in her conning-tower. It was U--Unterseeboot!--They -had sunk one of their own submarines! - -He turned to see the face of his captain fixed in an expression of -horror. Everyone on the bridge was trembling. They had lost command -over themselves, and they knew it. No one spoke. With a fierce effort -of will the lieutenant pressed his glasses to his eyes, scanned -the horizon. What was that? He saw a dark spot rising and falling, -circling against the grey sky like a black gull wheeling in the gale. -It was a seaplane, daringly reconnoitring even in this weather. It -was discovery. Borkum confirmed the fear. "Cruisers turning back to -sea--difficult to range in this weather." - -The guns' crews at the anti-torpedo armament had also seen the -aeroplane. A shot cracked out, automatically, without orders. The -captain, losing all control over his nerves after the last shock, -ran along the bridge to the port rail and excitedly ordered them to -continue. "Fire!" he shouted. "Fire! A hundred marks to the crew that -brings it down!" His face worked with an insane hatred, his voice was -the voice of a man out of himself. It seemed that he wished to revenge -his terrible mistake upon the aeroplane. Crack! Crack! Crack! went the -guns, while the men behind the rubber shoulder-pieces swore violent -oaths. The firing had continued for a couple of minutes or more when -the telephone bell rang again. - -"The lieutenant in the observing station wishes to know what you are -firing at, Herr Kapitän!" - -The captain was about to discharge a volley of oaths upon the man when -a sharp cry from the commander stopped him. The captain looked again -through his glasses. It was suddenly obvious to everybody that the -aeroplane was no aeroplane but in actual fact a wheeling gull. - -"Cease fire, you--(objurgatory)--fools!" yelled the captain. In a -nervous rage he bit furiously at the red beard below his lip. "Tell the -Herr Leutnant Feldmann to keep a better look out!" he said savagely to -the messenger. - -Eight bells sounded. The navigating lieutenant was relieved. He -descended from the bridge and stood for a moment in a warm spot in -the lee of the forward funnel, trying to achieve a yawn that kept -opening his mouth without filling his lungs. His blood, drugged with -fatigue-toxins, was in urgent need of more oxygen, but his overtaxed -nerves failed to synchronise the action of the muscles. His eyes burned -in his head. He stumbled down the companionway, rubbing at them, and -took off his dripping oilskins outside the wardroom door. His servant -appeared and was ordered to bring him a stiff tumbler of brandy. Then -he entered the empty wardroom and flung himself full length upon -a sofa. He tried to shut his eyes, but found himself obstinately -staring wide awake at a paint-blister on the bulkhead. Disconnected -thoughts--visions, rather, of craft of various types driving through -the gale passed through his brain. Especially the black dot of the -seaplane which was no seaplane danced before his eyes, maddening him -with its refusal to be banished. Behind a door in his consciousness -was the horror of the sunk submarine--he fought hard to keep that door -closed, and caught himself staring into it in intervals of relaxed -vigilance. He could not sleep, try as he would. Even the strong spirits -failed to narcotise him. If anything they spurred his harassed brain -into greater activity. He fretted for a drowsiness that would not come. -At last, with a curse, he rose and walked out of the wardroom. - -Outside he stood for a moment, hesitating, craving for companionship -like a sick man who lies awake at night. He ran over the list of his -comrades at their battle stations. Then he made his way down to the -engine-room. - -A stifling atmosphere, hot, damp and thick with the smell of oil, -assailed him as he descended the steep iron ladder. The sweat broke -out on his brow as he passed along a gloomy narrow corridor, just wide -enough for a man, between packed boiler-tubes ranged on both sides to -the roof like bottles in a wine merchant's vault. He emerged finally -into a large space, brilliant with electric light. On a platform at one -end stood the staff-engineer with some of his assistants, surrounded -by a formidable array of indicator-dials, telegraphs, telephones, -speaking-tubes, and other fittings of whose use he had but a vague -idea. The engineer still worried at his little grey moustache as he -gazed below him to where the turbines hummed in their casings. It was -comparatively quiet down here. Only a few men were visible, but the -lieutenant knew that a hundred or so were labouring fiercely in the -bowels of this mass of mechanism which gave the ship her life. From -a manhole at the other end of the engine-room a couple of men were -drawing out what seemed to be a corpse, its naked torso black as with -an explosion. It was a stoker who had collapsed. The staff-engineer -frowned as the limp body was carried off to the sick bay. He turned and -snarled irritably at the question of the lieutenant. - -"250 revolutions and not a turn more can we get out of this -Gott-verfluchte coal. That is the tenth man in the last quarter of an -hour. There's no use in worrying us. We can do no more. Go and tell -that to the Herr Kapitän and leave us to our work." - -"It seems clear in front, but there is a couple of cruisers somewhere -behind," observed the lieutenant in a placatory voice. - -"I don't care if Hell's in front of us and the Devil himself behind!" -roared the engineer, losing self-control in the exasperation of his -nerves. "We should at least get something that would give some heat -there. _Gott sei dank!_ Do you know how many tons of this muck we are -burning per hour?" he finished savagely. - -The lieutenant waited for the answer. - -"Thirty tons per hour--and we are only getting 250 revolutions--go and -tell that to the Herr Kapitän!" - -The lieutenant's own irritation was inflamed by this display of temper. - -"We didn't supply the coal----" - -The engineer overwhelmed him with a roar of curses, and finished with -an angry order to leave his engine-room. His bulging, birdlike eyes -glared with an insane hatred. - -The lieutenant returned a bitter retort that had no justification in -fact and climbed up the ladders to the deck. There he stood swaying -for a moment or two, chilled to the bone by the change in temperature, -although he was on the lee side of the superstructure. Raindrops -splashed heavily upon him from above. The ship was plunging and rolling -more than ever, and he noticed the motion after the comparative quiet -below. The gale had evidently freshened. He shivered with cold and -half-turned to go below again. Then he changed his mind and stumbled -forward, slipping at every step on the wet, unstable deck. - -In the forward turret was his friend Gunnery Lieutenant Arenschmidt. -He opened the steel door and entered. The narrow metal box into which -the breeches of two 8·2 guns protruded was lit by electric lamps -behind wire guards. It was filled with the crews of the two guns, -seated comfortably on the floor with their backs against the walls. In -the shell-bins at the top of the ammunition-hoists a projectile lay -ready for each gun. The gunnery lieutenant rose as his friend entered -and held out his hand with a smile. He was a jolly young man, this -lieutenant, whose manly beauty, marred though it was by a student -sabre-cut, fluttered many a female heart. He spoke now with all his -usual boisterous good-humour. - -"Hallo, Bielefeld! Glad to see you! Giving them the slip after all?" - -Despite the buoyancy of his tone the navigating-lieutenant noticed that -his lips trembled and that his eyes were deadly serious. - -Ere any reply was possible, a bell rang sharply. The gunnery -lieutenant jumped away from his friend. The indicators from the -forward fire-control station marked a direction, an elevation and -a range. The navigating lieutenant stood back away from the alert -groups behind the breeches. He felt the floor turning with him while -the ship lurched heavily. A moment later he heard a muffled thud and -everything shook. The starboard gun had been fired. He heard the hiss -of the air-blast clearing the fumes from the firing-chamber, and then -the breech was swung open. The hydraulic chain-rammer, jointed like a -foot-rule, pushed another shell into place, followed by its charges. -The hoists rattled as another projectile came up in readiness. The -bell rang again. The crew at the port gun were suddenly busy. There -was another shock. What was happening? What were they firing at? The -navigating-lieutenant dashed out of the turret, closing the door -quickly behind him. - -As he ran up the ladder to the bridge, he heard a roar in the air, and -a moment later a great sheet of flame leaped up just in front of the -forward funnel with a colossal detonation. The blast of the explosion -flung him to the deck. He picked himself up, bruised, dazed, but -uninjured, and looked for the enemy. The turret had swung its two guns -over to starboard, and as he followed their direction they discharged -with a couple of almost simultaneous reports. He steadied himself and -gazed hard into the distance. In the mist on the horizon he thought -he distinguished a long, low band of brownish smoke, and at one end -of it a dark spot and a tiny twinkle of flame. A minute later the -roar of heavy projectiles tearing through the air came to his ears. -Instinctively he flung himself flat upon the deck in the shelter of a -gun-turret of the starboard battery. The sharp, splitting report of the -gun in that turret was blotted out on the instant by a fearful upheaval -that leaped from the centre of the ship with such a blast of noise as -seemed to burst his ears. He had a glimpse, he knew not how, of a sheet -of lurid flame and of a mighty upspout of water on the ship's flank. In -the awful silence which ensued--a silence so profound that he wondered -if he were permanently deafened--he staggered to his feet. The turret -in front of him had been burst open, the gun protruded askew at a -curious angle. He gazed at it, motionless, as though rendered imbecile -with the shock. Then a chorus of agonised screams and shrieks came -from the turret and continued. He heard them with a sense of relief, -so terrible was that unbroken silence. Recovering his wits, he looked -about him. The second gun-shield of the starboard battery had also been -destroyed, the bridge was a hanging mass of contorted scrap-iron, -the wireless "aerials" streamed away to leeward in the gale. The two -forward funnels had disappeared and torrents of black smoke were -welling up from the level of the deck, obliterating everything. In -that smoke, tongues of fire licked upwards, whether from the furnaces -or from a conflagration he did not know. Automatically he began to -run towards the conning-tower. Without defining itself, the thought -that the captain should be informed of the state of affairs impelled -him. As he went he heard again the roar of projectiles. Again he flung -himself flat. This time the enemy was not so successful. A shell burst -somewhere on the fore-castle. The rest flung up spouts of water all -around that fell again with a heavy splash. An instant later he was -hammering at the lid of the manhole in the conning-tower. - -The lid was unfastened from within. He pushed it aside and slid in, -feet foremost. The round steel box was filled with fumes. Through -them he perceived several bodies stretched out upon the floor. He -stumbled over one of them, and the handkerchief over the man's face -slipped aside. It was the commander. He heard the voice of one of the -gunnery-lieutenants at a telephone communicating with a fire-control -station, followed by rapid orders to the electricians turning the -handles of the range indicators. At another telephone a man was making -frantic but ineffectual efforts to get a reply from the wireless room. -A junior officer at the steering wheel gave him a slow strained grin, -almost like an expression of pain. The captain glared at him with eyes -in which there flamed a Berserk madness. - -"Well!" he shouted, sticking his red beard into the lieutenant's face. - -The navigating lieutenant gave his information, staggering with the -heavy lurches of the ship. It flashed on his mind while he spoke that -she no longer rose so buoyantly to the waves. The captain listened, his -face twitching insanely, puckering his fierce eyes. When the lieutenant -spoke of the blur of smoke on the horizon he sprang round and peered -out through the narrow slit between the wall and the roof. Then he -turned with a cry of panic. - -"They are all round us! Starboard your helm! West-by-north-west!" - -The ship came round on her new course with a wallowing roll. The -captain peered again through the observation slit. - -Suddenly there was a fearful shock, a deafening roar, and the slit -was vividly illuminated. The conning-tower had been again struck. The -captain toppled backward on his heels, an object of sickening horror. -The top of his head was gone. The gunnery-lieutenant sank quietly to -his knees and slid over sideways. The officer at the helm was leaning -over the wheel, motionless and staring. A splinter had gone through -his brain. Lieutenant Bielefeld sprang to take his place. Three men -beside himself, rangetakers and electricians, were left alive in the -conning-tower. They seemed in a stupor, dazed by the shock. - -"Telephone to Lieutenant von Waldkirch that he is now in command!" - -An electrician roused himself, attempted to obey, and reported: - -"The communications are broken, Herr Leutnant." - -"One of you go and fetch him--he is in the after fire-control station." - -A man wrenched at the lid of the manhole. - -"It will not open, Herr Leutnant--it is jammed." - -The lieutenant glanced at the observation slit. The aperture was no -longer regular. In front of him it gaped, behind him it was closed. - -"So!--then we will carry on!" His face had gone deathly pale, -but his lips were tight-pressed. "Telephone to such guns as you -can--independent firing!" He himself leaned over to the voice-funnel -from the engine-room. "Wollenmetz!--Wollenmetz!" - -The reply came in a gush of fluent curses, evidently roared with full -lung-power at the other end and terminating with: "What is it?" - -"Are you all well down there?" shouted the lieutenant. - -"All well! We have a shell in the engine-room, the men in the -forward stokeholds are all suffocated--and we have dropped to 100 -revolutions--what is happening with you above? Tell me for God's sake! -It is hell here!" - -"We carry on--_für Gott und Kaiser_!" yelled the lieutenant in reply. - -At the helm, he kept the cruiser steadily on her new course. Every -moment he expected to feel the shock of more hits but none came. -Evidently they were getting out of range. It seemed curious with -the known lessening of the ship's speed, but there was the fact. -Encouraged, he shouted down the tube to the engine-room to get all the -speed they could. "We are running out of danger!" he added cheerfully. -"Find out what has happened to the ship if you can--all communications -are broken." For a long time he waited for a reply, but none came. His -shouts down the tube elicited no response. Thus isolated from the life -of the ship of which he was actually in command he kept on his course, -bearing every now and then a little more to the west in his fear of the -ships towards the north-east. How long he continued thus he could not -tell. Every now and then he glanced at the clock in front of him. It -marked always the same time. It was broken. - -Rolling heavily, the cruiser ran onward, unmolested. The three men -began to converse cheerfully. The possibility of escape now seemed to -them a probability. The lieutenant also began to indulge the same hope, -but the whereabouts of the ship which had engaged them worried him. - -Suddenly there was a terrific shock, another red illumination of the -slit at the top of the armour-wall, another tremendous roar. Two men -who had been leaning against the wall fell dead without a scratch. The -impact had killed them. The other man had sprung to the lid of the -manhole, was beating against it with his fists and screaming like a -maniac. Presently he sank down and hid his face in his hands, moaning -like a terror-stricken child. The lieutenant ignored him in an agony of -apprehension. Were they overtaken? - -Outside, explosion followed explosion. The floor of the conning-tower -listed steeply to starboard, and with every lift and drop of the vessel -the bodies about his feet slid towards the wall. Suddenly, to his -horror, he saw a wisp of smoke issuing from the voice-tube leading to -the engine-room. What had happened? Had they stopped? As the ship dived -down a wave he tuned himself to sensitiveness. He felt the momentary -race of the screws threshing the air, just perceptible. Thank God, they -were still moving! The succession of detonations outside never ceased. -He could only guess at their effect and the direction from which the -projectiles came. Assuming the enemy to be still to starboard, he put -the helm hard over in a last despairing effort to run out of range. The -compass card whirled round in the wrong direction! The steering-gear -had gone. - -The ship no longer rose to the seas. She rolled heavily from side -to side in the trough of the waves. The lieutenant looked around -helplessly at the bodies on the floor, at the wrecked indicators, at -the useless wheel, at the man who rocked to and fro with his head in -his hands. His continuous pitiful moaning exasperated the lieutenant -to madness. He drew his revolver and commanded him, with frenzied -vehemence, to be quiet. The man stared wildly at the muzzle of the -revolver, opened his mouth as though about to shriek, and collapsed in -a dead faint. - -The lieutenant turned from him and went to the observation slit. As -the ship lifted clumsily sideways on a wave he had a view of a dark -grey cruiser driving through the mist, quite close--on the port side! -This was a new unsuspected enemy. Water was streaming from her decks -as she rose buoyantly on the sea. A string of flags fluttered along a -halyard from her mast. She seemed as normal as a ship on manoeuvres. -Suddenly half a dozen spurts of bright flame broke from her dark sides. -The lieutenant felt the ship under his feet shiver and stagger in a -deafening roar. Then he felt the weight of his body heavy against the -wall of the conning-tower. He was lying almost horizontal against -that wall. Through the slit he looked out upon confused water only, -in the place of sea and sky. A great wave rolled straight towards -him, splashed against the conning-tower, poured through the slit in a -torrent. He sprang back in pitch darkness, fighting with both hands in -a last instinctive struggle for life. The solid floor went from under -him, human hands clutched at his legs, blindly feeling up his trousers. -He kicked--choking--in a rayless night. - - * * * * * - -Hull-down on the horizon a German battle-cruiser was reporting a -strange vessel that had suddenly appeared, challenged and received -her fire, and then run back into the midst of British cruisers which -had immediately sunk her. Emden sent disquieting answers to urgent -enquiries. - -The great wireless station at Nauen received the news of another -inexplicable disaster. - - - - -THE AIR SCOUT (1914) - - -A large level meadow bit squarely into the edge of the woodland. The -centre of the space enclosed on three sides by trees as by a wall was -an empty stretch of turf, browned by much traffic and littered with -scraps of paper which are the inevitable deposit of any congregation -of human beings. The left-hand side was occupied by a neat row of -slate-grey motor-lorries. The right showed an equally neat array of -tents and sheds over which hung a faint film of wood-smoke. At regular -intervals along the third side a series of placards was affixed to the -tree-trunks, each exhibiting a conspicuous number like stands at a -cattle-show. The stands, however, were vacant. In front of the sheds -on the right stood a little group of men in khaki, and near them two -men in shirt and trousers were busy at a portable forge whence issued -the film of smoke. The hammer-strokes of those men were visible and -evidently delivered with force, yet, curiously enough, at a little -distance they appeared to fall in silence. - -[This description must not be taken as representing the vastly -developed organization of the flying services to-day (1917). The -incident is, of course, quite imaginary. The story was written some -time before the war.] - -A vast noise that came from beyond the wood swallowed all other sounds. -The drowsy air of the hot noon trembled with concussions so rapid that -they merged into one deep-throated, deafening roar. The field was the -aeroplane depot of the Army. The roar was the roar of the battle which -that Army was fighting. - -Despite the apparent nearness of the strife, there was little of -military spectacle about the depot. At the corner of the wood a -squadron of dismounted troopers stood by their horses. A little further -back, along the rough lane which led into the field, a gun mounted on -a motor-lorry stuck its nose perpendicularly into the air. Three or -four men sat on the lorry in easy attitudes and one stood up, glasses -to his eyes, scanning the blue sky. The group of khaki-clad men paid no -more attention to them than they did to the battle-din which swelled -over the woodland. They were absorbed in contemplation of a large -curious-looking bush which stood a few yards in front of them. - -A closer look at that bush revealed that it was artificial. It was, -in fact, a largish shed whose walls and roof were composed of green -boughs. Men were busy within it and a shaft of sunlight that penetrated -the leaves fell in a patch of gold upon some yellow fabric. The object -thus illuminated was the wing of a small, single-seater monoplane. - -A little apart from the other members of the group a slightly-built -young fellow, garbed for the ascent, stood in earnest colloquy with -a tall, lean staff-officer. Behind them the others conversed in -tones just loud enough to be heard in the incessant roar. They were -discussing the disaster of the dawn. - -The blow of the enemy had been terrible. The Army had been smitten in -its eyes. It was now only a blind giant striking at an adversary whose -vision was unimpaired. The entire air-squadron of the force, rising -from its harbourage at the break of day, had been suddenly assailed by -a superior fleet that dropped out of the clouds upon them. Watchers -from below had seen short lightning flashes stabbing the grey mist, had -heard a sharp outbreak of firing, had seen phantom aeroplanes rising, -circling, swooping, colliding in thin cloud, had seen the machines -one after another tumble and dive, lapped by flames, in a sickening -rush to earth. Not theirs alone now lay, crumpled and contorted masses -of scrap-iron, over the countryside, but of theirs none had escaped. -The rear of their battle-line was a picture that his scouts could -report upon at leisure. What lay at the rear of his? None knew, but -the vehemence of his fire told that he was pressing his advantage. The -presentiment of defeat lay heavy on the little group as they disputed -on the blame to be allotted for the catastrophe. - -The staff-officer tugged impatiently at his little grey moustache. -His teeth champed at a bit of grass that was no longer there. In his -anxiety he had not noticed that it had fallen from his mouth. - -"I wish those chaps would be quick," he said. "The General is most -anxious to have that flank cleared up." - -"They are being quick, sir," replied the aviator, with a smile. His -keen, thoughtful face showed that he was not indifferent to the urgency -of the situation, but his calm mouth told of nerves that nothing -could shake. Within that green bower lay the one hope of the Army--its -lightest and swiftest monoplane, damaged in landing the day before, now -being repaired as fast as skilled hands could do the work. - -"You quite understand, don't you?" said the staff-officer, repeating -himself for the tenth time. "The General thinks that a movement is in -progress against our right flank. A screen is extending there which -he cannot penetrate. If they are moving a large force round us he can -detach the Sixth Division to hold them, and with a massed attack he'll -crumple up their left centre which they must have weakened. He'll -repeat Salamanca, that's what he said--I don't know what happened at -Salamanca," he concluded irritably, "but anyway he daren't move a man -till he's sure. I wish your chaps would get finished." He looked up -into the air above him with a circling glance. "How many have they got -now?" - -"Four, I make it," replied the aviator equably. "They had ten -yesterday. Five were smashed up this morning. One got winged an hour -ago." - -At that moment a dirty and perspiring man came out of the bower and, -approaching them, saluted. - -"Ready, sir," he said. - -"Right. Get her out, then," said the aviator. "No! Wait!" His gaze had -gone up to the sky. "There he comes again." - -"D--n!" said the staff-officer, staring upwards also. - -High in the air an aeroplane was coming towards them, parallel with -their own battle-line. In the swollen roar of the conflict, the hum of -its engine was inaudible. It seemed to drift onward leisurely enough, -sinking slightly as it approached but well above effective gun-fire. -Tiny white dots of smoke that sprang into the air below it were a proof -of that. Slowly, as though making a careful examination, it passed -overhead. Suddenly it turned and dropped still lower, coming back -towards them. Something had awakened suspicion in the men up there. -The reason for that artificial bush became apparent. The staff-officer -gazed at the aeroplane, now rapidly enlarging itself in his vision, as -though mesmerised. Anxiety for that precious machine under the leaves -paralysed him. - -The aviator had turned to look at the gun on the motor-lorry. The group -about it sat in quiet expectation. Its muzzle moved gently, came a -little out of the perpendicular. The aviator looked up again at the -machine drifting overhead. He heard a sudden heavy detonation on his -left and almost simultaneously he saw a bright flash appear in the -dark body of the aeroplane. The machine lurched, toppled, dived, and, -falling rapidly, turned bottom up in the air. A couple of dark figures -fell out, raced it in its rush to the ground. A long minute later it -struck the centre of the field. Flames burst out of a shapeless wreck. -The aviator did not heed it. He ran towards the bower. - -"Quick!" he cried. "Get her out!" - -Torn down by twenty pairs of eager hands, the bower fell apart. The -little monoplane was run out, lay like a dragon-fly resting lightly on -the earth. - -The aviator climbed into his seat between the wings, sent a glance from -the compass to the map held open in its frame, saw that the message -bags were ready to his hand, tested the strap of the field-glasses -hanging from his neck with a sharp tug. He was ready. In front of him -two soldier mechanics stood holding the long blades of the tractor -screw. Over there, beyond the wood, the uproar of the battle mounted -in violent paroxysms each of which surpassed its predecessor. The tall -staff-officer approached and held out his hand. - -"Good-bye--and good luck," he said, "and for Heaven's sake let us -know what's happening on that flank. Don't wait to get back--drop the -message." He looked at his watch. "It's now twelve--if we don't know -something within an hour it's all over with our chance. Can you manage -it?" - -"I'll try, sir," said the aviator, checking the hour with a glance at -his own clock. - -The staff-officer turned an anxious pair of eyes upward for a swift -look into the sky, seemed about to make a remark and then obviously -refrained. "Good luck!" was all he could trust himself to say. - -The aviator smiled and nodded cheerfully. Then he ejaculated a sharp -order to the mechanics. They flung the blades of the tractor into -revolution. The machine, emitting a series of riflelike reports, -commenced to run across the field. The tractor became a blur. - -The woodland appeared to rush towards him and then suddenly dropped -away in a diagonal underneath. His eyes on the dial of the barograph, -the aviator warped the machine round and set the planes to an acute -angle of elevation. Confident in the power of his engine he mounted -steeply in a spiral. The record on the dial rose with every second--100 -feet--200--400. In two and a half minutes he had risen 1000 feet. He -cast a swift look below him. He was still over the field, had a glimpse -of a group of tiny figures clustered in front of the sheds. The rim of -the horizon came up, the earth fell into a great concavity. It was like -looking down into a vast bowl containing woods and fields and flattened -hills. From the bowl clouds of yellow-grey dust arose like smoke and -out of the dust came a multiplicity of heavy crashes that detached -themselves from a background of unceasing clatter mingled with one long -rolling thunderous roar. - -It was but a hasty glance the aviator threw below him. Still mounting, -his eyes searched the blue air on a level with himself, above him. The -enemy's three machines where were they? Far off to his left a dark -speck hung in the sky. He watched it intently as his machine climbed. -It was a biplane. It appeared to be drifting away from him, engaged in -a reconnaissance of their left flank, he decided. At any rate as yet -they seemed not to have perceived him. The others were not visible. He -shot a glance at the barograph--3000 feet. He had been climbing for -five and a half minutes. Almost immediately he saw a trail of smoke -ascending with incredible velocity in the air a little below him to his -right. The trail finished abruptly in a vivid flash, a burst of white -smoke and a violent detonation. The monoplane rocked from side to side -in the sudden disturbance of the air but continued to climb. A second -later a similar trial ended in an explosion at a level with him on his -left. He saw a gash appear suddenly in the fabric of one of his planes, -and the needle of the barograph switch back 50 feet with a jerk. Then -the altitude record mounted again steadily--3250--3500--4000. The noise -of the battle diminished as he rose, dropped to a point where it was -all but obscured by the roar of his own engine. Below him the smoke -trails leaped up at him and burst viciously in vain. - -Four thousand five hundred--he glanced at the hostile biplane to his -left and saw that it hung larger in the sky. Even in the moment for -which he watched it it dilated. It was approaching at top speed. He was -discovered, pursued. Instantly he turned off to his right and raced -across the battlefield in the direction of the threatening flank. As he -did so, he perceived another aeroplane rising from the enemy's lines. -It climbed swiftly in bold swoops and then shot off towards him in a -great upward slant. Two! Where was the third? He failed to discover it -and held on his course. - -His direction was at an angle across the battlefield which took -him towards the enemy's left flank rather than to their own right. -As he sped over it, he looked down upon a broad miles-long belt of -yellow-grey dust that rose raggedly into the air, and was spotted with -an innumerable multitude of white puffs that renewed themselves as fast -as they were dissipated. In many places these puffs congregated thickly -and, as they broke, linked themselves with others until they floated -like little narrow clouds in the air below him. As he looked down into -the great concavity of the earth he seemed to be over some enormous -smoking fissure in a crater whose circumference was the horizon. The -rumble and roar which ascended from it assisted the illusion. Tiny -sparks of flame darted and flickered in the fumes of that inferno, and -here and there flashed a number of glittering points, the reflection of -the sun from advancing bayonets. To distinguish men was impossible, but -in occasional rifts in the dust curtain he could make out brown patches -of varying size, and, over to his left, on the enemy's side, similar -though darker patches. - -He could permit himself no sustained scrutiny of the scene below him -for the management of the machine began to claim all his attention. -Even at that great height above the battle, the air on that windless -day, shaken and riven by the unceasing concussions of the massed -artillery of two armies, was full of flaws. The needle of the barograph -flickered, oscillated violently in leaps to and fro. The monoplane, -tilted dangerously, now on one side, now on the other, in eddies of the -tortured atmosphere, slid downward dizzily ere it could be brought up -to climb a bank of air. It needed strong arms at the controls, a quick -brain and nerves of perfect tone to keep her upon the appointed course. -Glancing back, the aviator saw that the flight of the nearer of the two -hostile machines, the one which had risen from the enemy's lines and -was now approaching him on his left, was similarly erratic. - -An overpowering heat, as from a vast open furnace, arose from the -battlefield below. It was the heat from thousands of explosions, -renewed incessantly and sustained over many hours. Stifling gusts -blew on to the aviator's face, carrying with them a peculiar smell of -burning cloth. With these gusts the roar of the battle seemed to leap -up to him. The air was oppressive despite the speed at which he clove -it, highly charged with electricity, heavy with the menace of a storm. -Yet no cloud broke the monotony of the blue sky. The machine raced -onward, was now crossing the battle lines of the enemy's left flank. - -Suddenly he heard a faint rattle behind him. The hostile aeroplane, -realising that it had failed to head him off, was firing furiously. -He felt the machine shiver under a quick succession of hard raps. -Instinctively, he pressed upon his accelerator, and, with a touch on -the warping lever, the machine shot forward at terrific speed. The raps -ceased. He turned his head and saw his enemy rapidly diminish in size -behind him, saw that the other aeroplane, the one he had seen first, -had fallen far in rear. A confident smile came on the tight lips of the -aviator. He could outpace them both. - -He was now above the enemy's left flank--a little to the right of the -spot that the Commander-in-Chief had designated as the object of his -possible attack. The scout switched off his engine and commenced to -drop along a slant towards the centre of the enemy's position. With the -sudden silencing of his engine the roar of the battle came up at him -in a crash and stayed there. He glanced at the time--12.13--and gave -himself a limit of two minutes in which to reconnoitre. For the moment -he ignored his adversaries in the air. As he gazed down through the -transparent panel between his feet, his glasses to his eyes, the ground -that slid away under him appeared to be subjected to a constantly -increasing magnification. Fields, houses, roads grew momentarily more -distinct. Without taking his gaze from the scene below the aviator -checked the drop of his machine and drove forward. Quickly his trained -eye took in the details of the ground, the position and approximate -numbers of the men that he saw massed in dark patches here and there. -Over a long stretch of the position the enemy's line was obviously -thinner. The country behind it was empty of troops. The General's -intuition was correct. The enemy had weakened his left centre. Point -Number One was settled. Now what had he done with the troops he had -withdrawn? - -As the aviator turned his machine to reconnoitre in the new direction, -he was surprised to see the hostile aeroplane between him and his -objective. Absorbed in his scrutiny of the ground, he had all but -forgotten it. It was slightly higher than himself and about half a mile -distant. He could not carry out his reconnaissance without coming into -fatal proximity to its machine-gun, and he could not return directly -over the battle lines without passing between the crossed fires of this -and the other machine now drawing close. Even as the realisation of his -position flashed on him, a narrow slit appeared in one of his planes. -The nearer of his foes was already firing. - -Quicker than thought he turned and raced off into the country behind -the battle. A plan, the only one with a possible chance of success, -had sprung into his mind. He had no intention of failing in this -all-important mission of his. But first he must get out of the range -of that deadly machine-gun. He dared not rise across it at barely -half a mile range. At full speed he raced away, inclining his machine -downwards. The hostile aeroplane followed, depressing her course -likewise, to get him into the zone of her fire or to force him to the -ground. The scout's speedometer registered 100 miles an hour. Beneath -his feet he had glimpses of trees and houses and fields flitting past -in a stream where salient features prolonged themselves into long -blurred lines. They looked oddly large after the altitude at which he -had been contemplating them. He threw a glance over his shoulder at his -pursuers. The nearer was now rather more than a mile away. The other -had apparently given up the chase. The clock showed 12.15; in less -than two minutes he distanced his adversary by nearly a mile--he had -therefore a superiority in speed of about twenty-five miles per hour. -He did not consciously deduce this result. His trained mind working -with incomputable swiftness under the stimulant of imminent danger -gave the result like an intuition. His plan presented itself to him -completely formed. At this distance he could risk the danger zone of -the machine-gun for the few moments he would be in it. He swerved his -machine upward and climbed steeply. In a minute the other aeroplane was -level with him; beneath him. The scout rose along a slant, slowing -down his engine until his pace was almost equal to that of the machine -below. Both rose steadily. - -The battle din ceased altogether behind him. He flew in the seeming -silence of the roar of his own engine and the deeper bass of the -other machine, just audible, below. He bent forward over his map and -picked out his approximate position. Then he noted a village some -twenty miles in rear of the battle, and drew an imaginary line from it -south-westward to the enemy's left flank. That village was to serve -as turning-point. He should reach it, he calculated, at 12.27. The -barograph indicated 3000 feet and still rising. - -12.25--the scout bent his eyes on the ground. A couple of minutes later -a handful of white cottages flitted past as he looked down between his -feet. His enemy could not be seen. The body of the monoplane hid him as -he flew below and slightly in rear, but the roar of his engine, louder -than the scout's own, could just be heard. - -Now was the time--the scout turned off abruptly at a tangent along the -line he had marked out for himself and drove his engine at its fastest. -The speedometer needle oscillated over 101 miles an hour. He calculated -that he had approximately twenty miles to go ere he reached the patch -of country he wished to explore. He should reach the commencement of -the enemy's left flank at 12.39, and be able to spend six minutes in -flying over five miles of ground and then have a couple of minutes in -hand. To the trained intellect behind his keen eyes six minutes were -amply sufficient. Having run along the left flank it was simplicity -itself to turn to the right and glide down into his own lines. There -seemed nothing to stop him. The pursuing machine was being quickly left -behind. The slow biplane now far off to his right could not possibly -arrive in time. The sky in front was clear of any menace. - -Again he began to draw close to the great belt of dust-cloud which -stretched out to his right and again the din of battle began to -overpower the roar of his engine. Directly ahead was a dark mass of -woodland. It was from thence that the enemy's screen around the right -flank of the scout's army commenced. He swerved slightly to the left, -behind it. The hour was a second or two over 12.38. - -Below him was a network of country roads, and from four strands of that -network which ran in an approximately parallel direction, coincident -with his own course, arose long dense clouds of dust. It was the dust -of marching columns. The scout shot a glance back at his pursuer, -assured himself that it was five or six miles in rear, and slowed down -his engine as he entered upon a long, gradual descent over the route of -those marching columns. - -For mile after mile on those four roads the dust cloud continued. -The scout checked off the distances by villages on his map. Adding -the length of the four roads together he estimated that about twenty -miles of road was occupied by the marching force. It was a whole army -corps, then, that was endeavouring to turn their flank. In the open -fields between the roads he could distinguish small bodies of cavalry -advancing in the same direction. The mass on the roads was certainly -infantry, broken here and there by long columns of artillery. The low -dense clouds of dust kicked up by the tramp of thousands of feet were -cut into short sections where the guns and wagons of the batteries -rolled onward. From a rough calculation of those intersected clouds -he decided that four brigades of artillery were on the march. He had -descended now to 2000 feet, and he kept at that height as he roared -over the plodding columns. Behind him his pursuer had lessened the -distance between them, was getting dangerously close. The biplane on -his right was also approaching. Nevertheless, the scout held on his way -comfortably. There was nothing to prevent him carrying out his plan. - -He was already well beyond the prolongation of his own army's line of -battle when he reached the head of the marching infantry. Contrary to -his expectation, however, they were not wheeling to the right. They -continued straight on, marching away from the battle, it seemed. The -scout was puzzled for a moment. He searched the ground in front of him -for more troops. It was apparently empty. Then, from a fold in the -landscape considerably ahead, he saw another, smaller dust cloud arise. -At his highest speed he raced towards it, overtook it in less than -a minute. Below him a cavalry brigade, accompanied by two batteries -of horse artillery, was trotting sharply forward. What was their -objective? He scanned the country in front of them intently. Some three -miles ahead of the cavalry was a wooded hill. He picked it out on the -map, saw instantly that it commanded the main avenue of retreat of his -army. The enemy's plan was clear. He would occupy it with the cavalry -and the two batteries until the infantry got up. The threatened army, -then attacked in flank and rear, would find its retreat cut off. If -the scout's commander was aiming to repeat Salamanca, the enemy was -endeavouring to repeat Jackson's march at Chancellorsville. The danger -was pressing. The scout reckoned that within half an hour the hostile -cavalry would be in possession of that hill. In an hour the infantry -would begin to come up in support. Where was the Sixth Division that he -had been told would check the flank movement of the enemy? He searched -for it, saw a brown mass about two miles from the wooded hill. Its -cavalry might get there in a quarter of an hour by a rapid dash. He had -then a quarter of an hour to deliver his message and get the division -set in motion. The hour was 12.46. - -He wheeled towards his own line and commenced a downward glide at a -gentle angle. Then, taking his hands from the controls, he rapidly -wrote down a clear concise statement of the case in his report book. -Even if he did not reach earth, his message might. He glanced up to -see that his indefatigable pursuer was now swooping down to cut him -off. Moments were precious. He ripped out the page, thrust it into the -weighted message bag and tied it up. Then he started his engine again, -aiming for the brown mass of the Sixth Division. - -Something made him look to his left. He was startled to see a large -biplane rushing up at him from the direction of the wooded hill. It -had evidently descended to effect some repairs and had lain hidden -far behind his own line. He recognised it at once. It was by far the -swiftest and most powerful machine possessed by either army. On his -present course a few seconds would bring him within range of its -machine-gun. To his right the other machine was rapidly growing larger. -In front, the slow biplane had sailed over the battle lines, was -heading straight for him. The three machines were converging on him. -The scout saw that he would either be forced away from the battle or -destroyed, his message undelivered in either case. - -He swerved his machine and climbed. If only he could get above the -Sixth Division for an instant, he would throw over the message-bag, -chance its being picked up. To do that it was necessary to get higher. -On his present or a lower level he would be riddled with machine-gun -bullets. His adversaries on either hand rose also, but he got the lead -of them. - -As they rose in circles he watched for his opportunity when both should -be turned away from him. The moment came. He seized it and dived, -with his engine running at full speed. The earth rushed upwards, its -features enlarging themselves as though they swelled to burst. The -brown mass of the Sixth Division spaced itself out into battalions, -squadrons, below him, in front. They were exactly underneath. He flung -out the message-bag, with something like a prayer in his heart. On -either hand his adversaries were swooping down upon him. He thought -he heard the rattle of their machine-guns, but in the roar of his own -engine he could not be sure. - -Down and still down the three machines rushed. Suddenly he noticed the -slow biplane in front--on an even lower level than himself. It was very -close. He saw the pale dot of the face of the man behind the gun. If -he swerved he would be under its fire in a moment. If he kept on his -course he must crash into it. His decision was instant, instinctive. He -held on. One thought dominated him as he dived straight at it. Had his -message been picked up? If not----? He saw the gleaming backs of the -outstretched plane almost under him. He set his teeth for the impact. A -second more--the wide stretch of yellow canvas suddenly jerked to the -left and crumpled in a blinding flash. He had not touched. He swerved -to the right with all his force in the tiniest fraction of a second and -shot past something that fell, flaming.... A shell from below had hit -the biplane at the moment almost of collision. - -He had a confused sense of other shells exploding in the air. A battery -was seizing its chance to get the enemy's aircraft in a cluster, -regardless of the danger to him. He continued his rush downward, -feeling rather than knowing that the other two machines were in close -pursuit. If he could only be certain that his message had been picked -up! - -He flung a glance back over his shoulder. The powerful biplane that had -risen from behind the wooded hill was close upon him. Why did they not -fire? He felt himself a target, was surprised not to see the gash of -bullets on his machine. The explanation flashed on him. The gun had -jammed. The biplane came at him as though it were itself a projectile. -Its crew had desperately resolved to ram him, to sacrifice themselves -rather than to allow him to bring his precious information to the -ground. They were almost upon him. He swerved and dodged. The biplane -shot past. - -Immediately he saw the other machine close upon him, saw a spurt of -fire from the muzzle of its gun. He dived. A belt of trees rushed -up at him, fearfully close. Their dark foliage seemed to break into -puffs of black smoke over his eyes. He swerved instinctively, saw a -meadow burst through the dark smoke, fly skyward in a mist of blood. -With a last desperate effort he banked. His hands slid from the -controls--everything swam. He was vaguely conscious of a heavy impact -from underneath---- - -Something was burning his throat--he opened his eyes, gazed into a -man's face close to his. Consciousness came back in a rush. He pushed -away the brandy flask that was being pressed against his teeth and -struggled to his feet. Strong arms supported him. Several men were -round him, looking at him. He was close to a road, and along that road -he thought he saw batteries of artillery galloping at full speed. -He was not certain of their reality. They passed like phantoms in -his vision, wavering up and down. He wanted to do something--to ask -something--what was it? He all but fixed the elusive thought--and lost -it. His hand felt for the duplicate report-book in his pocket--his -desire was connected with that. The report-book had gone. Then a -fragment of his intangible preoccupation floated, visible as it were, -in his brain. He clutched at it. - -"What--what guns are those?" he asked thickly. - -"Divisional artillery--Sixth Division," came the reply. "All right. We -got your message." - -The scout put his hand to his brow and then, dropping it, stared at it -stupidly. It was red. - -"All right," said the voice. "You're hit--but not seriously. Lie down." - -The scout collected all his faculties in an attempt to bring out one -more thought from the obscurity which filled his brain. - -"What--what time--now?" he asked. - -"Just one o'clock." The voice appeared to recede to an enormous -distance, although he felt the speaker's face close to his. "They're in -time--don't worry. Lie down. The ambulances are coming in a minute or -two." - -The scout stood obstinately. - -"The--the other--machines?" - -"Bagged 'em both. You came down beautifully--like a kite." The voice -sounded from worlds away. - -The aviator put his hand to his head. - -"In time!" He breathed the words rather than spoke them. They came like -the sigh of a man utterly spent. - -The man who had been supporting him turned round with a jump and -focussed his binoculars on the wooded hill. A crowd of white puffs was -breaking out in the air above it. - -The scout, left unattended, swayed with hands stretched out like a -blind man. The field whirled round and round suddenly with a fearful -rapidity and then rushed up and struck him. - -The man with the binoculars ignored his prone body. - -"Beat 'em on the post!" he shouted in joyous excitement. "By the Lord! -Beat 'em on the post!" - - - - -KULTUR (1915) - - -The subaltern commanding this section of the trench sat in a hunched -position in the narrow corridor of earth topped with sandbags. His -knees drawn up to serve as a support for the writing-pad, he wrote -quickly between long pauses when he bit the end of his pencil and -stared reflectively at the brown clay wall some two feet in front of -his nose. At his side a man stood, bent and motionless, peering into -the lower end of a long box, very narrow in proportion to its length, -which he held against the side of the trench so that the other end just -rose above the wall of sandbags. Further view down the trench in that -direction was barred by the traverse--the thick dividing-wall of earth -that would localise the effect of a shell-burst or a bomb. All was -quiet. The subaltern might have imagined that only he and the look-out -at his side remained buried in this flat landscape where once two -armies had flung fire and noise and steel at one another, hidden from -the sight of those who should have come to tell him that the war was -over and the armies stolen away. He did not so imagine. Ever present -to his mind was the parallel line of sandbags, some fifty yards away, -between him and which stretched a tangle of wire overgrown with rank -grasses and tufts of corn. That parallel line was the great permanent -fact in his existence. He knew it in its every aspect better than he -had ever previously known anything on this earth. Not a spot on that -apparently deserted wall might change without his being interested to -the quick. Even as he wrote, the feeling and the knowledge of it were -concrete in his brain, constraining him to this cramped attitude. - -Since October this wall of his had fronted the other wall and now it -was June. For nine long months, through snow and rain and sunshine, -from the long nights to the long pitiless days, these two walls had -remained the same, sheltering the same lurking enmities though the -individuals who temporarily incarnated them came and went. Sometimes -ablaze with stabs of darting flame, erupting bombs lobbed with a -deceptive innocent slowness through the air, belching a mass of men -who ran and stumbled and fell in an infinite variety of ways--men who -shouted and who screamed so that their voices pierced the appalling -uproar; sometimes stretching blank across the fields in a deathly -stillness as to-day; their position had never altered. The quagmire -between them, criss-crossed with barbed wire, had grown up into a waste -of grass and nodding poppies that nearly hid what looked like bundles -of weather-stained old clothes whence came a sickening, all-pervading -smell. Behind each wall, hundreds of men had died or been carried -away, maimed and broken, a lifelong burden for some human heart. Not -a sandbag of those piled to make the parapet which sheltered the -subaltern, but might have had a man's name written on it in memoriam -of a life suddenly extinguished. The necrology of the opposing parapet -would have been as full. - -In the hush which brooded over so much death--past and to come--a -pause, it would seem, where the overhanging invisible demon of war -reflected on its work--a mood of questioning, of revolt, came over the -subaltern as he scribbled his pencilled lines. - -"On a quiet evening like this one cannot help moralising a little," -he wrote, "wondering what it's all for and what we purchase with our -death. This constant murdering of individuals on both sides who commit -the crime of inadvertently showing an inch of head--how does this help -matters?" The sharp crack of a rifle somewhere along the trench caused -the officer to raise his head, listening with all his faculties at -strain. The look-out at his side did not stir, no report followed the -first, and he bent himself again to his letter. "I don't want to appear -squeamish, fine-stomached in this rough game, but I don't think I shall -ever be able to kill cold-bloodedly. I have been unfitted by long -centuries of culture----" - -He was interrupted by the appearance of another officer, who squirmed -himself round the traverse with a pronounced stoop necessitated by his -uncommon tallness. The fair-moustached, boyish face of the new-comer -was radiant with glee. - -"I say, Lennard!" he said impetuously. "Ripping luck! We've just bagged -Fritz! You heard the shot just now? Folwell, my sergeant, got him. Been -waiting for him for over an hour, without moving a muscle. Topping -chap, Folwell. All he said was, 'Married life don't seem to 'ave -spoilt my aim, sir.' You remember, he asked for leave to get married?" - -Lennard abandoned his letter and lit a cigarette. - -"I wonder whether Fritz was married," he said with a little malicious -smile, the ideas recently in possession of him firing a final shot in a -faint rearguard action with the returning everyday occupants. - -"Well, that's one more nuisance abated." - -"Rather!" said the other, seating himself and likewise lighting a -cigarette. "Fritz must have bagged not less than a dozen of our chaps," -he calculated, gazing reflectively at the thin spiral of tobacco smoke -which ascended straight in the still evening air. "Well, he's gone, -thank the Lord! and we got Hans yesterday and Karl the day before. I -must have a pot at old Hermann. If we could bag him we might hope for a -quiet life." - -Lennard nodded. Each one of the German snipers--if sufficiently lucky -to carry on his profession for a day or two--acquired an individuality -and a name. Hermann was an especially dangerous neighbour who lurked -somewhere in a ruined cottage that lay between the lines where they -bent away slightly from each other. He rarely fired except to kill, and -hid himself so well that not one of the numerous patrols sent out had -succeeded in discovering his lair. - -The two subalterns chatted awhile over their cigarettes, while the red -gold of the western sky faded into rose. They talked of the little -incidents of mess and trench, magnified by their isolation from the -main stream of life, and then, harking back, of the things that once -had been so important to them in London town, and were now so dwindled -and remote. A year ago Lennard was a critic who was read, and Wilson, -the tall subaltern, a painter whose first success was hanging on the -line. Both were, or had been, highly polished products of what we -called, proudly, civilisation. As they talked the old scenes came back -to them, obliterating the present. At last Wilson rose, responsive to a -subtle inner sense of time measured, independent of his consciousness. - -"Well, so long, old thing," he said, standing up and straightening his -tall form, fatigued with so much bending. The momentary forgetfulness -was fatal. On the instant a rifle cracked and the lanky subaltern -collapsed as though his knees had been knocked from under him. - -"My God!" cried Lennard, limb-paralysed by this brutally tragic -reassertion of his environment. Trembling, his heart seeming to stop -and swell within him, he bent down to his friend. He touched mere -clothed flesh, heavy and inert, on which the flies had already settled. -They buzzed away, indignantly asserting their right of pasture. A -madness of anger at this wanton annihilation of a life that was -not just a dull living but an irradiation of the spirit, connoting -civilisation, highly conscious, swept over him. He burst into a torrent -of incoherent wrathful curses. - -"That was 'Ermann, sir," said the observer at the periscope. "I spotted -the flash, in among them bricks." - -Lennard rose, fiercely vengeful. - -"Let me look. Where did you see the flash?" - -"Three o'clock from that bit of greenstuff in the middle, sir," -replied the man, ceding his place at the periscope. "You'll see a dark -spot--that's 'is loophole." - -Lennard gazed down into the mirror of the instrument. There was just -light enough for him to pick up the spot indicated. - -"Very good." He strode, with bent back, down the trench, muttering to -himself. - -It was night when, rifle in hand, he swung himself nimbly over the -parapet. For some minutes he lay flat on the ground at the other side, -not moving an inch. Over his head the crack of rifles and the loud, -rapid hammer taps of the Maxims recommenced their fusillade against the -heap of bricks. From the first shade of dusk he had arranged that a -constant enfilading fire be kept up on the sniper's lurking-place. He -had no intention of letting Hermann slip away--yet. - -He raised his head slightly, fixed his bearings in the gloom and then, -still prone, began to nip a way through the wire entanglements. A -German flare went up, dazzling with a ghastly light, too brilliant -for distinct vision. He lay motionless. As it descended and fizzled -out upon the ground he had a clear view of his course. He was aiming -at a point in front of the German wire, whence he could enfilade the -gap between the heap of bricks and the hostile parapet. Over his head -the hard, sharp cracks of his own men's fire followed one another -continuously. They would not cease for nearly fifteen minutes yet. -Meanwhile Hermann would be lying close. He cut and wrenched at the -wire and wriggled forward, grimly disdainful of the barbs that plucked -and tore his clothes. - -Again and again a soaring German flare stopped his progress. Clearly, -this incessant fusillade was making the enemy nervous. At each -illumination he lay as if he were one of the bundles of old clothes -that occasionally he pushed against. The British parapet darted with -fire--awoke a sympathetic crackling somewhere to the right. - -At last. He settled himself in a comfortable firing position, couched -in the long damp grass. An insect, unaware in its littleness of the -large death that whistled above its world, quitted a pendent blade, -explored his cheek. - -Crack--crack--crack! the last British rifles ceased. There was an -instant's stillness, and then yet another flare shot up from the -suspicious German trench. It fell, sizzled--illuminating the ruins that -he watched with all his faculties focussed, all his nerves coming to a -point on his trigger finger--and then the world plunged into blackness. -There was silence and impenetrable darkness. - -Minute after minute dragged slowly past in a dead hush. Finger on -trigger, every fibre tense, the prone figure waited. A primeval self -awoke in him--a savage who stalked and could indefinitely maintain his -ambush. His senses were as keen as though hyper-stimulated by some -strange drug. A grim, patient lust to kill reigned in him. - -The minutes passed slowly, slowly. He looked to one of them, not yet -arrived, as to a term. When? He felt it approaching, concentrated to -a still acuter degree his attention. The trigger seemed to be pressing -against his finger. What was that? Surely something was moving there in -the gloom--by the ruin. Why did not the flare he had ordered go up? His -whole soul went out in a desperate prayer for it as he held his breath -and strove with baffled eyes against the darkness. - -Suddenly the craved-for light shot up. Perception and trigger-pressure -were instantaneous with the flash of its discharge. A running, stooping -figure pitched headforemost before the stab of flame from the rifle. - -Immediately a vicious fire from the German parapet answered this -impertinence. The slayer lay still as death, listening with painfully -acute perception to the ugly _phat!_ of bullets in the earth around -him. A bomb fell, burst with a deafening report and a blinding flash of -flame so close that he marvelled at his escape. By an effort of will he -choked down the cough that the fumes provoked. - -Rifle-fire at night is infectious. A sporadic and probably harmless -duel sputtered up and down the trenches. At last a gun, way back -somewhere, sent over a shell, and, as though obedient to this protest -from their big brother, the rifles were silenced, one by one. The -opposing trenches again lay in darkness and quiet. - -The subaltern, assuring himself that all was still, wriggled forward -to the body of his victim, lay full-length beside it. Quickly he ran -through the dead man's pockets, stuffed a bundle of papers into his -own. Then, a rifle in each hand, he crawled back to his own parapet, -climbed over and lay down. In an instant he was sound asleep. - -It was bright morning when he awoke. High up a lark was pouring out -its cheerful song. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, saw the two rifles, and -remembered with a smile. Close by him a man was heating some coffee in -a mess-tin over a methylated flame. He asked for some and drank it with -a pleasant physical sense of his body that was still alive, and could -drink. It warmed him. Then he remembered the papers he had taken from -the unlucky Hermann. Sipping at the coffee, he read a letter that was -among them. - - "Dearest Wife and Sweetheart," it ran, "I don't altogether like the - hatred of these Englishmen that your letter expresses. They only do - their duty as we do ours, and they fight well. Would all this killing - were over and we were friends again! It is in a sacred cause, I - know--we could not let our culture be stifled--but the sacrifices are - heavy. I sometimes wonder whether the old days will ever return, and - I shall once more write songs for you to sing in London and in Paris. - I can faintly hear a nightingale somewhere, or is it you?--I must - close now, as I am just ordered off to a dangerous post, and the dawn - will soon be breaking. - - "All the love of - Karl." - -Lennard, moved by a sudden curiosity, looked at the superscription -of the envelope, ready addressed. Evidently the sniper had put it in -his pocket and forgotten to give it to his comrades before setting -out. The name was familiar. He coupled it, Karl ----. His victim was -a writer of songs that his wife loved to sing and he to hear. He sat -for a moment gazing thoughtfully at the letter, yet without definite -thoughts. Then, with a sigh, he rose. - -Instantly a bullet smacked against the sandbags, missing his head by a -couple of inches. - -"Bad shot, that," he murmured as he ducked. "Lucky thing I bagged old -Hermann!" - - - - -THE MAGIC OF MUHAMMED DIN - - -The intense heat of the day was already a memory of uneasy sleep, -and the distant hills seen across the plain of grey, sun-baked mud -were soft in a soft sky. Right across the horizon, as seen from the -Political Officer's bungalow, stretched the mountain range, rising -from deep blue at the base through a gradation of fairy amethyst and -turquoise to a delicate pink suffusing the summits. The Political -Officer, his left elbow resting on his writing-table, his fingers -caressing the bowl of the old briar whose stem was gripped between -white teeth, tobacco-smoke wreathing away from him, contemplated it -with bent brows and narrowed eyes. The gaze of that lean face, sallow -with many Indian summers, roved not over the distant prospect, tempting -though were the transitions and flaws of changing colour on crag and -peak to left and right of the point on which his vision was fixed. -His expression was stern, the thrust forward of his clean-cut jaw -predominant. Æsthetic enjoyment of the aspect of the frontier hills -thus perfidiously beautiful in the evening light had no part in his -meditations. - -The curtain of the door was plucked aside. A long-robed native, -white-bearded, entered noiselessly, bowed, with arms outstretched from -his sides, stood erect and waited for orders. - -The Political Officer responded with a nod to the "_Salaam, Sahib_." -His gaze detached itself from the distant view, ranged keenly over the -tall figure in front of him. Under the swathes of the green _pagari_ -that narrowed the brown forehead a pair of dark eyes of strange -intensity met his own. The disturbing effect of their direct gaze was -heightened by the bushy white brows under which they glowed. The big, -beaked nose, thin-bridged, emphasized their power. The long, white -beard spreading over the breast solemnified them with a hint of ancient -wisdom. The eyes of the white sahib and the ascetic _Haj_ (as his green -turban proclaimed him) met unflinchingly. - -"The _Sahib_ asked for the fakir Muhammed Din--is it well, _Sahib_?" - -"It is well, _Haj_," replied the Political Officer, a twinkle in his -eye and a subtle emphasis on the title. - -"Did not the Prophet throw his green mantle over Ali that he might -himself escape from his enemies, O Protector of the Religion?" replied -the fakir, a little piqued. - -"_Maloom_" ("It is known"), said the Political Officer, curtly but with -a tone of friendliness. "I called you not to discuss the religion, but -to protect it. I have work for you, Muhammed Din--dangerous work." - -"It is well, _Sahib_." - -"An emissary of our foes is among the tribes, Muhammed Din, and is -preaching a false gospel to them. War and the woes of war will surely -follow if we do not still his tongue. Listen! You have heard that the -infidel Caliph Willem of the West has falsely proclaimed himself a -follower of the Prophet that he may use the power of true believers to -further his own wicked ends?" - -"It is known, _Sahib_." - -"He has sent one of his tribe, dressed as a fakir, into the hills to -preach a new Jehad. Already the _mullahs_ (priests) are gathering about -him. This fakir calls himself Abd-ul-Islam, but he is a Feringhi, no -true believer, and no true friend to the religion. Yet he is leading -many astray, for he deludes them with a false magic. You will see for -yourself. You remember the magic pictures you saw at Karachi?" - -"I remember, _Sahib_." - -"It is such magic as that. There is none but Muhammed Din I might -safely trust to close the mouth of such a rogue; therefore, Muhammed -Din"--the eyes of white _sahib_ and Moslem fakir again looked into -each other--"I am sending you on the mission. I asked you to come as a -fakir because I judged that to be your best disguise. You have come as -a _Haj_, which is even better. I do not want this impostor killed, if -it can be helped. I want him exposed, discredited. I send you, Muhammed -Din." He looked at him with significance as he added: - -"You may find an old acquaintance." - -The fakir stroked his long beard. - -"He shall be brought to you riding backwards upon an ass, and the -women shall mock at him' _Sahib_. I swear it." - -The Political Officer smiled. - -"None can if you cannot, Muhammed Din. Now I will explain these things -to you more fully." - -The Political Officer spread a map across the table and pointed out -the route of the German agent across the Persian frontier and among -the hills. His present abiding-place was fairly accurately known. -The pseudo-fakir attentively considered the ways to it. Then he drew -himself erect. - -"It is well, _Sahib_. I will now go." - -"You have a plan, Muhammed?" - -The fakir smiled grimly. - -"This dog has his false magic, _Sahib_, but Muhammed Din knows many -magics that are not false. I have sworn." - -"Go, then. Allah be with you!" - -"And with you, _Sahib_!" - -Muhammed Din salaamed once more, lifted the curtain, and passed out. -The Political Officer watched him go across the compound, and then bent -down to his work again with a little outbreathing of satisfaction. The -Secret Service had no more reliable man than Muhammed Din. - - * * * * * - -The squalid little village high up in a cleft of the brown and barren -hills, that gleamed golden aloft where they cut sharply across the -intense blue of the sky, was filled with an uncommon concourse of -tribesmen. And yet more were arriving. Down the stony paths which led -to the village from the heights, up the boulder-strewn, dried-up -stream-bed which afforded the easiest passage from below, the hillmen -hurried in little groups--a bearded _khan_, a modern rifle on his -shoulder, his cummerbund stuck full of knives, followed by a ragged -rabble of retainers, variously armed. Their weapons were mementoes -of generations of rifle-stealing and gun-running. Lee-Enfields, -Lee-Metfords, Martinis, Sniders--all were represented. Not a few -carried the old-fashioned _jezail_, the long-barrelled gun with inlaid, -curved stock. All had knives. - -They swarmed on the rough roadway between the squat stone, windowless -houses whose loopholes were eloquent of their owners' outlook on life. -They clustered round the stone-parapeted well in the centre of the -village, so that the women with the water-pots were richly provided -with an excuse for loitering. The clamour of excited voices resounding -from the walls was re-echoed at a fiercer shout from the steep, -towering hill-sides, stone-terraced near the village into plots of -cultivated land. - -This was no ordinary assemblage. From far and near the tribesmen -swarmed in, and men met face to face whose habitual encounter would -have sent both dodging to cover, rifle to the shoulder. The blood-feuds -were laid aside. Families that for months had lived in terror of -their neighbours across the village street, quitting their domiciles -stealthily by the back way when they had occasion to go out, while -the sudden rifle-shot of the concealed marksman added steadily to the -tale of vendetta victims on both sides, mingled now with the throng, -albeit cautiously. Men whose dwellings were a doorless tower which -they entered and left by a basket on a rope, who tilled their fields -with ever a rifle in their hand, strode now down the street, their -dark eyes roving from side to side, and passed their adversaries with -scarce a scowl. Mullahs, Koran in hand, their young disciples at their -skirts, threaded their way through the crowd, giving and receiving -pious salutation, exhorting, preaching, inflaming the fanaticism of -passions naturally fierce. The blood-feuds between man and man, village -and village, were forgotten in the reawakened, never-extinguished feud -between Islam and the infidel. Behind the priests marched men armed -to the teeth, their faces working in a frenzy, their eyes inflamed. -They were _ghazi_--wrought up to the pitch of fervour where their own -life is a predetermined sacrifice, so that they may first slay an -unbeliever, sure of immediate Paradise as their reward. - -Above the murmur of voices came the continual drone: - -"_La Allah il Allah!_ There is no God but God, and Mohammed is His -Prophet!" - -It re-echoed down the valley in sudden shouts. - -Into this excited throng strode the green turban, the venerable figure -of Muhammed Din, piously telling his beads. Men jostled one another -out of his way, for this fakir was quite obviously an especially holy -man, one who had made the pilgrimage. Giving and receiving the Moslem -greeting, "May the peace of Allah be with you!" he inquired the house -of the village mullah, and made his way towards it. - -He met the priest just on the point of quitting his dwelling. The -mullah had a busy and important look. It was a great day for him. - -"The peace of Allah be with you!" said Muhammed Din. - -"And with you, O holy man!" replied the mullah. He scented an -application for hospitality. "Blessed is the day that you come to us, -for Allah worketh wonders in my village. Many have come to witness -them. Alas! that you did not come before, O holy one, or my house that -I have already given up to others would be yours!" - -"A corner and a crust of bread, O Mullah!" - -"Alas! Allah be my witness! Neither remains to me, O holy one--but I -will lodge you with a pious man when the saint whom Allah has sent to -us has finished the wonders he is about to show. I must hurry, O holy -one! for the moment is at hand. The peace of Allah be with you!" - -"Allah has guided my footsteps to you, O Mullah, for I have come from -a far land to see these wonders. I will accompany you, for it is His -will." - -"Hurry, then!" said the priest irritably, "or Shere Khan's house will -be full. Allah knoweth that I praise Him for thy coming!" he added by -way of afterthought. - -The house of Shere Khan, the headman of the village, was besieged by -a turbulent crowd of tribesmen, who jostled one another for entrance. -In view of the limited space within, only those known to be most -influential were admitted. They deposited their weapons as they -entered. - -Muhammed Din followed the mullah, who bustled in with an air of -great importance. The largest room of Shere Khan's house, a gloomy, -stone-walled apartment, almost completely dark since the loopholes -high up were stuffed with rags, was set aside for the occasion. More -than two-thirds of it was already filled with tribesmen, who squatted -on the floor. The remaining portion was rigidly kept clear by one or -two of Shere Khan's armed retainers. "Sit farther back, O Yakub Khan! -More space, O Protector of the Poor! Farther back, O Yusuf, lest the -miracles about to be performed by the will of Allah scorch thee! Back, -back, O children of the Prophet! I entreat ye!" The entreaty was -emphasized by sundry kicks which the sentries grinningly delivered with -a sense of the privileges proper to such an occasion. - -The wall at the end of the clear space was whitened. High up on the -other wall, behind the tribesmen, was a newly erected box of wood, -large enough to hold a man, supported on pillars of light timber, and -only to be reached by a ladder, of which there was at the moment no -sign. The tribesmen turned their heads curiously towards this unusual -contrivance and nudged and whispered to one another. - -"Behold the cage in which the saint keeps the devils over which Allah -and the Prophet have given him power!" - -Those who were nearest it stirred uneasily. - -"What if it should be the will of Allah that they break out of the -cage!" - -"We are God's and unto God shall we return!" replied his neighbour -nervously, quoting the verse of the Koran which gives protection in -time of danger. "May Allah protect us!" - -Muhammed Din sat modestly among the throng, telling his beads with bent -head. - -"What thinkest thou of these wonders, O holy one from a far land?" -asked the man next to him. - -"The wisdom of Allah is inscrutable and much that is hidden shall be -yet revealed," replied Muhammed Din solemnly. - -There was a stir of expectation throughout the gloomy apartment. -The mullah entered by a door at the farther end, near the whitened -wall, uttered a sonorous benediction, and sat down, with grave -self-satisfaction, in the front row. - -One minute more of tense waiting--and then, amid a low murmur from the -assembly, the curtain at the far door was again lifted. The "Saint" -appeared. For a moment he stood in a dramatic pose, illumined by a ray -of light from without as he held back the curtain. Then, dropping it, -he strode solemnly forward into the cleared space. Every eye gazed -at him with an avid curiosity. The light in the doorway had revealed -him as a youngish man, despite the full beard which lent him dignity. -His stately carriage of the long Moslem robes, dimly perceived in the -gloom, was worthy of his _rôle_. - -He stretched out his hands. - -"The peace of Allah be with you!" he said in a deep tone that had only -the faintest tinge of a European accent. - -In a low deep chant of awed voices the assembly returned the salutation. - -"O children of the Prophet! Men of the hills! Greeting! Greeting not -from me but from the greatest Sultan of the world!" He spoke in their -own dialect, but with a strong admixture of Persian words. "Listen! Ye -know already--for his fame has passed the confines of the earth--that -the great Sultan Willem of the Franks was visited by a vision from God, -and that having had truth revealed unto him he turned aside from the -error of his ways and embraced the true faith. Written in great letters -of gold over the Sultan's palace shall ye find the sacred words: 'There -is no God but God and Mohammed is His Prophet!'" - -He stopped to allow his words their full effect. A murmur of wonderment -came from his audience. "A-ah! God is great! Unto Him be the praise!" - -He resumed. - -"And with him turned all his vizirs and mullahs and khans from the -false belief and called on Allah and Mohammed. I--even I, Abd-ul-Islam, -who stand before you--am one of them. The Sultan Willem issued a decree -to all his people that they should believe in the true faith--and lo! -Allah wrought a miracle and they all believed, destroying their false -mosques and building new ones to the glory of the Prophet. Great is -Allah and Mohammed His Prophet that these things should have come to -pass, O children of the Faith! They are hard of belief, for the Franks -ye well know are a stiff-necked race. Yet such it is, and my Lord the -Sultan hath sent me on an embassy to you that I may tell you these -marvellous things. And that ye may more readily believe, Allah in His -great mercy has given me power to show you these wonders with your own -eyes." His tone took on a deeper, more sonorous solemnity. "O Allah! -Allah! In the name of the Prophet, vouchsafe that these thy children -may see the great Sultan Willem as he is at this moment!" - -He clapped his hands sharply together. - -Instantly a beam of intensely white light shot across the dark -apartment from the "cage" and fell upon the white wall at the other -end. The "Saint" stepped quickly out of the radiance. On the white -surface there suddenly appeared a lifesize portrait of His Imperial -Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm II--_gowned in long robes and coiffed with a -turban_. A gasp of astonishment broke from the peering spectators in -the dark room. Once more the "Saint" clapped his hands. The Imperial -figure walked in stately fashion straight towards the audience--seeming -that in another moment it would be walking out in the air over its -heads--stopped, stretched out its right hand, smiled. The muscles of -its face moved, the mouth opened--in a speech that none heard. "_Aie! -Aie!_" broke from the spellbound tribesmen. - -"Alas! that he is so far away that ye cannot hear his words!" lamented -the "Saint." "But I can hear them. He tells you to believe in me, who -am his messenger, by the grace of Allah and the Prophet. O Allah, -vouchsafe that these Thy followers may witness with their own eyes the -conversion of the vizirs to the true faith!" Again a clap of the hands, -and the picture on the wall changed. - -The tribesmen gazed at what to a Western eye would have been an -obviously cardboard imitation of an Oriental room with a dais on one -side of it. On that dais stood the figure in Moslem robes. Filling -the remainder of the room was a throng of men in German uniforms, -_pickelhaube_ on their heads. They advanced one by one to the figure -on the dais, knelt, offered up their spiked helmets, and received in -exchange a turban from their graciously smiling lord. - -"See, O people, and believe!" cried the "Saint." - -"_Aie! Aie!_" came the response. "We see and we believe! God is great! -There is none great but God, and unto Him be all the praise!" - -"Listen! O true believers! The Holy Prophet laid a command on the great -Sultan Willem that he should immediately convert all the Frankish -nations to the true faith. And the Sultan Willem gave glory to Allah -that this command was laid upon him. He sent forth his armies in the -great Jehad. The Sultan's armies are the most numerous and bravest -in the whole world--not Timur nor Rustum might have stood against -them--and none may count the number of their victories in the great -war against the infidel Franks. Their triumphs are as the rocks on -the hill-sides, beyond reckoning and eternal. All the nations of the -Franks fled before them, and were slain like dogs as they ran. And -most of all fled before them and were slain the insolent English dogs -that, thinking themselves far away from the power of the Sultan Willem, -are puffed up with a vain pride and tread upon the neck of the true -believer in the land beyond the Indus--nay, who invade your hills and -lay waste your crops, seeking to destroy the one true faith. Is it not -so?" - -"Allah knoweth! He speaketh through thy lips, O holy one!" was the -chorused reply from the darkened room. There could be no denial of any -statement from a source of such sanctity. - -"Look then upon the battle and the destruction of the English dogs!" -cried Abd-ul-Islam, giving the signal once more. - -Immediately another picture appeared upon the wall--a picture of -pseudo-British troops, uniformed so as to be familiar to the tribesmen, -taking up a position for battle. - -"Watch! O children of the Prophet!" cried the wonder-worker. "Behold -the djinns which the Sultan Willem has under his command--for to him -has the Prophet given the power of Solomon--behold the djinns that go -before the Sultan's army destroying the English infidels!" - -Great founts of black smoke leaped up among the soldiers on the -wall--debris was flung high into the air--bodies lay upon the ground, -visible where the smoke cleared. The soldiers fired quickly from behind -cover, dodged, flung up their arms, and fell smitten by an invisible -foe. The picture, though a "fake," was cleverly done and would have -deceived more sophisticated spectators. The tribesmen did not suppress -their exclamations of awe and wonder. - -"Behold!" cried the showman. "The soldiers of the Sultan advance!" A -serried line of German infantry swept across the picture, bayonets -levelled, and the survivors of the defending troops fled before them. -The line changed direction and marched straight towards the spectators, -an irresistibly advancing menace, swelling larger and larger, uncannily -silent. - -Shrill cries of alarm broke out from the darkened room. "_Aie! Aie!_ -Allah protect us! We are God's and unto God shall we return!" - -The line of infantry swelled to a superhuman immensity, seemed on the -point of reaching the spectators--and then there was darkness. - -From the gloom came the voice of the German emissary. - -"You have beheld, O children of the true Faith, the infidel English ran -like dogs!" - -"Like dogs they ran! With our own eyes we have seen it, praise be to -Allah! Death to the infidel!" - -"Now see the soldiers of the Prophet, the victorious army of the -Sultan, destroying the Christian mosques in the conquered country!" -announced the showman, in a voice of triumph. - -On the wall was thrown the picture of a Belgian village church. German -soldiers were busy about it. Then volumes of smoke began to issue from -the windows, tongues of flame. The roof fell in. The church was reduced -to a ruin. - -"Behold! Ye see with your own eyes!" - -"We see, we see! God is great! Unto Him be the praise!" came the reply -from the spectators. - -"Now see others!" cried the German. "This is the work of the Sultan's -armies--will ye now doubt that he has set his face against the -Christian infidels?" - -Picture after picture of ruined and desolated churches followed upon -the wall. The German authorities had evidently prepared a special film -of them. Cries of wild approbation broke from the fanatical tribesmen, -the mullahs loudest. - -"Once more, O people, look upon the English prisoners, whose lives -have been spared because they have embraced the true faith, being led -through the Sultan's capital!" - -A film of a few British prisoners from Gallipoli being marched through -the streets of Constantinople was then shown, amid shouts of applause. - -The picture was taken off, but the beam of light still blazed across -the room. The German placed himself full in it. - -"Ye have seen with your own eyes, O warriors of the hills! Praise be -to Allah for His mercies! Ye will no longer doubt. In the name of the -Prophet, the Sultan Willem, the protector of Islam, commands that ye -rise up and sweep beyond the Indus. Everywhere the power of the English -is broken. With your own eyes ye have seen it. Only on your borders do -they still keep up a vain show. Rise up, O children of the Prophet, and -sweep these dogs of infidels into the sea! The rich lands of India and -much loot will be the reward of your valour. Paradise awaits those who -fall in the sacred fight! The green banner of Islam shall wave over the -entire earth, for there is no God but God, Mohammed is His Prophet, and -the Sultan Willem is His chosen instrument!" - -Karl Schultz felt an inward glow of triumph at his own histrionic power -as, his words ringing sonorously through the stone apartment, he stood -in the full blaze of light and raised his arm. It evoked loud shouts -of fanatic frenzy from the excited assembly. They clamoured to be led -against the infidel there and now. He kept his arm outstretched as -though to still the tumult, as though his discourse were yet unfinished. - -But the cries would not cease. "Great is Allah! Death to the infidel! -Death! Allah! Allah! There is no God but God! Allah! Allah! Allah! -Death to the infidel--death!" - -Suddenly there was a new element in the vociferation, a movement among -the assembly far back in the dark room. "Make way for the holy man with -great tidings from India! Make way for the _Haj_! In the name of the -Prophet--make way, dogs that ye are!" - -Schultz looked towards the venerable figure of Muhammed Din pressing -through the throng. A sudden doubt leaped up in him, was extinguished -in self-confidence. The strange fakir approached. The wild clamour of -the tribesmen was stilled in curiosity. They fell back in a sudden awe. - -Schultz watched the venerable stranger advance solemnly, silently, into -the blaze of light in which he himself stood. Again he was conscious of -an instinctive tremor. "The peace of Allah be with thee, O _Haj_!" he -said, and he found that he had deliberately to control his own voice. -There was something uncannily impressive in the advance of this silent, -dignified old man. - -"And with all the faithful!" came the sonorous reply, enigmatic to the -German's ears. - -He found himself looking into a pair of strangely disturbing eyes; -heard, with a wild reeling shock of the spirit, his own tongue spoken -in a low, level Oriental voice. - -"Move not a finger and make not a sound, Schultz Sahib, or you are a -dead man!" Schultz Sahib's eyes glimpsed the muzzle of a pistol not six -inches from his chest. "_Smile, Sahib!_ or your friends may interrupt -us." - -Having once ceded to the menace of the pistol, the German's brain could -not resist the command of the imperative eyes that seemed to be boring -deep into him. He _smiled_--a deathly smile. - -"You have forgotten me, Schultz Sahib? It is not so long since we -worked together on the railway. One of us at least learned a great deal -about the other in those days, _Sahib_. _Smile!_--keep smiling!" - -A wild revolt surged up in the German, subsided, without exterior -evidence, under the glare of the dominating eyes which held his -fascinated. He tried to turn away his gaze, was checked by the level, -purposeful voice of the fakir. - -"Keep your eyes on mine, _Sahib_! Look elsewhere and you are dead -before you have looked!" - -He heard the words reverberating through him, endlessly re-echoing in -chambers of his soul magically open to them. He felt himself fixed, -immobile, in a strange paralysis of the faculties. The terrible eyes -looked into his that he could not close--he felt, as it were, waves -of immeasurable strange force flowing from them, rolling over him, -submerging him. And yet still he looked into the eyes of the fakir, his -own eyes an open port to their influence. - -A subtle, pervading odour ascended his nostrils, filled his lungs, -mounted to his head. His brain grew dizzy with it. And still the -compelling eyes held him, prevented him from turning his own eyes to -the source of the odour. He lost the sense of his environment, was -oblivious to the awed tribesmen staring silently at the pair in the -blaze of light. He saw nothing but the eyes--lost consciousness of his -own body. He stared--and lost consciousness even of the eyes at which -he stared. - -There was vacuity, oblivion, an annihilation of time--and then out of -that vacuity a voice commenced to speak. He heard it with a shock of -the nerves--it crashed through darkness with a mighty power. He seemed -suspended like a lost spirit in everlasting night, fumbling around the -vague yet massive foundations of the world--indefinitely remote from -all that he had ever known. He could not detach himself from those -foundations. They quivered under the booming voice, communicated an -unpleasant thrill to the core of him. An awful unimaginable disaster -seemed to envelop him. The tiny germ of consciousness that was still -his fought for extension, strove to see. All was blackness--blackness. -And still the voice went on relentlessly, driving through darkness, -like a ploughshare thrust forward by the firm grip of a mighty and -inexorable hand. Immeasurable results seemed dependent on its progress. -He listened to it--and as he focused himself on the listening, a dim -perception of his environment came to him. He was vaguely conscious -of a sea of faces, upturned, listening--as he himself listened. Those -faces--they were in some relation to him, there was a link between them -and him--he could not determine it. He listened. The words rang like -sounding brass, the vowels roaringly sonorous, the consonants clashing. -He concentrated himself on their meaning--penetrated to it suddenly as -through veils smitten asunder. - -"_Lies and again lies, O children of the Prophet! A mockery of lies! -The Sultan Willem is a servant of Shaitan who feigneth religion that he -may lure true believers to their damnation while they unwittingly serve -the Evil One!_" His perception leaped up, clawing at danger, and then -was dragged down again, engulfed. He felt himself like a man drowning -in black waters at night--down--down--and then, fighting obscurely, he -shot up again, heard the inexorable voice continuing: "_This magic you -have looked upon is a false magic--the magic of unbelievers in league -with Eblis!_" He heard the re-echoing denunciation in a spasm of full -consciousness--was suddenly cognizant of the sea of faces, of fierce -passions exhaling from it--was completely aware of the menace of utter -ruin. A great revulsion surged in him. This must be stopped--stopped! -The necessity for instant protest was an anguish in him. All of -himself that he could summon from the darkness as his own shrieked -the negative, and yet he did not utter a sound--knew that he did not. -"_Climb up into that box some of you, and ye shall find no magic but -a Frank there!_" He strained with all his soul towards the faculty of -speech--felt his powers vanquishing the spell of dumbness--on the verge -of utterance shaped his words of denial. "_Lo! have I not spoken the -truth? Yea, I cannot speak other than the truth, for I am the runaway -servant of Muhammed Din, and his sanctity hath broken the compact -between me and the Evil One!_" In staggering horror he realized--_the -voice was his own_! - -He stood fixed, incapable of movement, and saw--like a man that has -dreamed and cannot yet distinguish dream from reality--the mob of -tribesmen surging obscurely in the long stone room, saw the blinding -white eye of the lantern still shining steadfastly upon him--saw it -waver, swing from side to side, and then, with one last blinding flash, -disappear. In the utter darkness he heard shouts and shrieks and fierce -derisive laughter. He heard crash upon crash as heavy objects were -flung from a height at the other end of the room. He heard a piercing -yell, an agonized, appealing utterance of his own name. For a brief -second it shocked him into complete consciousness--_his operator_! -Then, ere he could break his invisible bonds, he felt a pair of cool -hands pressed tightly against his brow, over his eyes, and he relapsed -totally--with a last little gasp--into nothingness. - -He awoke again to see the tribesmen surging round him, fiercely -shouting. The room re-echoed with reiterated cries of "_Sharm! -Sharm!_"[1] and a howl that was so unmistakably for blood that it -chilled him to the heart. The room was lighter now--the rags had been -pulled down from the high loopholes in the wall. He saw Muhammed -Din standing before him, fending off his adversaries. He was still -incapable of voluntary movement. A great faintness swept over him. He -reeled back; found himself supported by the angle of the wall. He had -been thrust back there all unconscious of the movement. - -Dazed and sick, he heard Muhammed Din speaking. - -"O children of the Hills, Allah and His holy Prophet sent me to you to -rescue you from the snare of the Evil One. On me is laid the charge -of vengeance upon this wretch, who was my slave ere he became the -possessed of Shaitan. But this much of vengeance will I grant ye, for -this much is just. He made a mock of you. Make ye a mock of him. Let -him be driven out of the village, face tailwards upon an ass. The women -and children shall cry derision upon the runaway servant who came to -deceive you as a saint with the false magic of Shaitan!" - -Staring speechlessly before him, the exposed charlatan heard the howls -of approval of the mob. His faintly working intellect wondered how the -mullah was taking this deception--perhaps even yet---- He saw Muhammed -Din hold up a large bag of money. He recognized it with a last -hopelessness. - -"This gold"--Muhammed Din emptied some of it upon his hand--"this gold -hath my servant surely received from Shaitan. It is accursed unless -some holy man receive it. Therefore to you, O Mullah, do I give it." - -The mullah snatched at it. - -"Great is Allah and for the meanest of His creatures doth He provide!" -he said. "Thou speakest truth, O holy fakir. Praise be to Allah that I -am here to protect the faithful from the accursed magic of this gold. -As to this wretch, accursed of Allah, let him be driven quickly forth -as thou sayest, O holy one! It is meet that thy vengeance should not -have to linger." - -There was a rush at the fallen magician. He swooned into their arms. - - * * * * * - -Some little time later, when the last stone had been flung and the last -epithet of mocking insult had ceased to echo from the hills, Schultz -Sahib, his hands bound behind his back, his feet tied under the belly -of his mount, raised his eyes from the ass's tail that he had been -contemplating. - -"Thou hast won, O Muhammed Din--but even yet I do not understand. What -happened?" - -The fakir smiled. - -"Thou hast thy magics, Schultz Sahib--what thinkest thou of the magic -of Muhammed Din? Hurry, O Willem, hurry!" he cried, as his stick -descended with a resounding thwack upon the hind-quarters of the ass. -"Thou art laggard in thy invasion of the territories of the English!" - - * * * * * - -The Political Officer listened to the story, and, embracing hypnotism -in the studies of his exile, made a note of it. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 1: _Sharm_, a stain of dishonour that can only be obliterated -in blood. The conception that underlies the blood-feud.] - - - - -THE OTHER SIDE - - -A deep silence brooded over No. 3 Ward, Officers. It was late afternoon -in October, but the room was as yet unillumined from within. The two -long lines of windows that confronted one another--the ward was a -temporary hut-building--did so in a contrast of lights, the eastern -windows, backed by grey obscurity, reflecting broken beams of the glory -of gold and purple and fiery red that streamed in from the west. The -two lines of beds, the indistinct greys and whites of the ward, were -delicately touched by the warm glow where they rose into its radiance. -It picked out the short curves of the turned-back sheet, humped with -the recumbent form beneath, in an imponderable caress upon the broken -humanity that lay, desperately finite, under the splendour that knows -no final setting. A mingled odour of disinfectant and anæsthetic hung -in the air, explanatory of the dead quiet, of the heavy breathing that -was part of the silence. This was a ward of the severely wounded, -recently arrived. From the utmost climax of human effort, thunderous to -the ear, dreadful to the eye, maddening to the soul whether it exulted -triumphant over the menace of instant extinction or shrank appalled and -paralysed in the horror of brutal death, from the fierce superiority of -the unscathed killer, from the sudden shock, these men had come, many -of them unconsciously, by train and ship and train and car to the white -and green hospital on the empty moorland, to the hushed screened peace -of the bed-ranked ward. - -At the further end of the ward a Medical Officer stood in murmured -conversation with a Sister. He was outlined black against the radiance -of the sunset, but on her the glow fell fully illuminant, rosy upon the -starched whiteness of the coif and apron, touching the pale face into -faint colour. Her large, serious eyes rested upon him, attentive to his -instructions, glanced away to the patient in the end bed as he spoke. - -"Number Ten must be very carefully watched, Sister," he said, the -little smile upon his face indicative only of his confidence in the -quiet young woman before him, in no way minimising the gravity of his -words. "I am afraid we are going to have a very hard fight for him. But -we mustn't let him slip through our fingers. We'll keep him on this -side if we can." - -She assented with a nod of the head, and a long deep breath that was -clearly a sigh. He scrutinised her sharply. - -"You have something on your mind, Sister. No bad news, I hope?" His -voice was very kind. "Captain Hershaw is all right?" - -The Sister's engagement was generally known in the hospital. - -The large eyes opened, revealing a mute, long-suffered anxiety. - -"It is more than a week since I heard from him, Doctor. I am -afraid--horribly afraid," she said in a low voice. "This terrible -fighting----!" - -"The post is sometimes held up during active operations, Sister. You -must not be prematurely anxious. A week is not very long. You must -believe in his luck. He has had a charmed life so far," the M.O.'s -kindly smile emphasised his reassuring tone. - -"He has--he has. And life always seems so--so vivid in him. I cannot -imagine him"--her voice sank almost to inaudibility--"dead." - -"Don't!" He smiled, full of sympathy. "Believe in his star." His tone -changed to the professional. "Would you like to go off duty, Sister? I -will speak to the Matron. A car is going into town. Go and look at the -shops." - -"No--no, Doctor, thank you very much. I won't leave my dear boys here. -Poor lads! it does me good to fight for them--almost as if----" she -stopped, turned away. - -"Very well, Sister. Send for me if any change occurs in Number Ten." - -The M.O. walked down the ward, throwing little glances at the silent -patients, and departed. - -For some little time the Sister busied herself noiselessly about the -ward. Then Number Ten stirred uneasily in his bed. - -"Sister!" he called in a faint voice. - -She was by his side in an instant. - -"A drink, please!" - -She gave it him, looked down on the young, strongly masculine features -as he drank, with an interest that was subtly, unconsciously more than -professional. From the moment of his arrival in the ward--even in his -silences--Number Ten had been a personality. Though powerless in bed -there was a curious hint of brute force in him. - -"Now you must go to sleep again, Captain Lavering," she said, smoothing -his pillow. - -"I can't, Sister." His eyes closed and opened again in a spasm of pain. -"I--I want to feel someone near me," his voice was very weak, "to get -hold of life again. Sister, sit beside me--for a moment, please." - -She glanced at him irresolutely, smoothed the hair from his hot -forehead with a cool hand, and then acceded to his request, seated -herself on the chair by the bed. - -"But you mustn't talk!" she warned him. - -"I won't, Sister!" He was quiet for a moment. "Sister! I'm very bad, I -know--but I'm not going to die! I won't die--I won't let myself die!" -Despite his weakness, there was intense will-power in his tone. - -"Hush, hush! Of course you are not going to die." Involuntarily, -she laid her hand upon the bed as if to transfuse some of her own -life-force into him. - -He reached out a hand, grasped hers, resisted her attempt at withdrawal. - -"Please!--please!" he murmured. "I want to hold on to life--there's so -much----" His eyes closed sleepily. "I feel life flowing into me," he -said. The grip on her hand was tight. - -For a long time she sat thus, her hand clasped in his. Number -Ten slept, with heavy breathing. It seemed to her that his fever -diminished. She feared to withdraw herself lest she should awaken him. -The long ward was deathly still. - -Presently there was a noise of footsteps. An orderly approached, -changing his gait to a clumsy tip-toe in obedience to her gesture. - -"A telegram for you, Sister," he said. - -She glanced at the patient, essayed to release her hand. It was firmly -held in the sleeper's grasp. - -"Open the telegram, Thomson," she said in a whisper. - -The orderly obeyed, handed her the drab piece of paper. - -She took it, glanced at it, nodded a speechless dismissal to the -orderly. - -"_The War Office reports that Ronald is missing believed killed -Hershaw._" - -The words branded themselves into her brain as she sat there fixed, -immobile. She could hear them in the wailing cry of the widowed mother -who had written the telegram, but her own voice seemed to her for -ever dumb, never to break this crushing silence. She stared--with dry -eyes--straight before her. The obsequial lights of the departed sun, -framed by the window opposite, were extinguished one after another. She -did not stir, was unconscious that her hand was still in the grasp of -the wounded man. "_The War Office reports_----" It was like staring at -a high, closed door. - -An immeasurable time passed before an orderly entered, switched on the -electric light, drew the blinds. She roused herself, found the grip -upon her hand relaxed. She rose--with tight lips and burning eyes, went -about her duties. - -That evening it was by an effort of will, sternly administered, that -she sat at table in the Sisters' messroom. She scarcely ate, was deaf -to the feminine chatter around her. One of the sisters, a notorious -flirt, joked her upon her loverlike posture with Number Ten. The -orderly had evidently talked. Sister Braithwaite did not reply. As soon -as possible she fled to her little matchboarded cubicle. - -By her bedside was a photograph of a clean-featured young man, with -intellectual eyes, more than ordinarily vivid in their expression. She -kissed it passionately--"Ronald! Ronald!"--the loved name came from the -depths of her. The merciful tears fell fast, her bosom heaved. - -She slept with a packet of letters pressed tight against her warm body. - - * * * * * - -She heard her name called: "Mary! Mary!" in a startlingly familiar -voice. She heard herself reply: "Ronald!" It was very dark. Where was -she? Ah, by the stream. It seemed queerly natural that she should be by -that stream. It was not so dark after all--only twilight. Twilight with -dark woods coming down to the stream. Her name was called again: "Mary! -Mary!" her lover's voice impatient. Again she heard herself reply: -"Ronald! Where are you?" "Here, dear! On the other side! You must cross -the stream." - -Of course! She must cross the stream--that was quite natural--and there -was a little footbridge, offering passage. She went over, not daring to -look down. On the other side she waited. He was not yet visible. She -wondered what suit he would be wearing, wondered why she wondered. He -came towards her, his clothes curiously more conspicuous than his face. -He was clad in his old tweed suit, and mysteriously it seemed odd to -her. Yet what else should he be wearing? It was the suit he always wore -when out for a walk. She glanced at her own clothes with a subtle sense -of strangeness, yet it was her old summer frock she wore. This little -puzzle about clothes played itself out in cosmic depths of her, receded -or was solved, vanished. Her lover was standing at her side, enfolded -her. - -"Mary! I have been so anxious about you!" - -She looked up to eyes that seemed like stars in the twilight. - -"I, too, Ronald--I have been worrying about you." There was a sense of -something terrible in the background, imminent, and yet she felt it had -been with her for a long time. It ceased. "But everything's all right -now--I have found you." - -A little glimmering something in the depths of her asked why she said -that, seemed to repeat doubtfully: "Found you----" in a long, eternally -re-echoing voice. She felt eerie. It was as though her existence was a -duplicate imperfectly combined, like the double vision, half running -into each other, of badly adjusted binoculars. - -"I am so glad you are safe, dear," she heard herself say. - -"Let us go and hear the nightingales," he said in the voice so -ringingly his own. He drew her along the path in the twilight, his arm -about her waist. - -Nightingales? Now? Of course, why not? The season was early June--what -was the silly half-thought submerged beyond the horizon of her mind? - -She allowed herself to be impelled by the pressure of his arm. Closely -linked, they followed the tenebrous path by the wood, climbed skirting -its dark edge. Her lover talked copiously and interestingly as he -always did--on a multitude of subjects. He was humorous, satirical, -rhapsodic, earnestly eloquent by turns. How like him it was! She -admired the wide range of his mind. Much more easily than usual--she -realised it in a little glow of self-flattery--she comprehended him all -through a long and intricate disquisition. Yet lurking somewhere in her -dream-consciousness was the feeling that there was an all-important -topic on which he did not touch. A part of her tried to identify that -topic and failed. The failure worried her. He talked of travel, of -a trip into Germany through the Black Forest, across Lake Constance -into Austria and the Tyrol. Of course! That was to be their honeymoon -tour. In the days before--before what?--before something--they had -often talked about it. They were not even officially engaged then--she -remembered how they used to laugh together over these distant projects -that were treated as imminent facts. They had even had a little -quarrel over the choice of two alternative stopping places. She came -back to his voice. - -"Listen!" he said. "Listen!" - -A nightingale was singing with supernatural power. Loud, thrillingly -resonant under the stars that now powdered the sky, the song welled -out to them. Its burden, mysteriously comprehended by them to esoteric -depths, was sorrow--the sorrow of all the world, here completely -expressed, transmuted into so strange a beauty that the listener held -his breath. The deep sobs, shudderingly repeated, that threw off the -magic runs of crystal sound, pervaded the atmosphere about them with -a mystic spell, evoked an immense pity in them. They could have wept. -Suddenly they were conscious of a perfidy in this magically induced -compassion--a danger, common to both, implied in it, imminent. He flung -his arms about her to protect her, shielding her from it. - -"You are mine, dearest!--mine!--only mine!" - -His words went ringing through the stars, passed out of hearing, -but were not silenced. She felt kisses of intense fervour upon her -mouth--responded. - -"I am!" she cried. Her words also rolled away endlessly, as though -permuted into imperishable brass. "I am yours alone!" - -She half-woke in the feeling of a near presence, then sank again into a -sleep that remembers not its dreams. - - * * * * * - -She awoke in the morning obsessed by the baffling sense of an -occurrence she could not recall. Then the memory, the realisation of -her loss flooded in on her--harshly predominant in those first empty -moments as yet unlinked to the distractions of the day. She wept, -uncontrollable tears. "Ronald! Ronald!" she cried in a low voice, her -face buried in the soft pillow. Then she remembered. Her tears were -checked. The details of her dream opened one by one, stirred in her a -curious, subtle fear she felt unworthy of her. The vividness of it woke -an atavistic emotion, the shrinking reaction of primitive humanity from -the influence of those dead to this world. Yet a more recent growth in -her tried to glory in the contact--impelled by an obscure sentiment of -duty. "I do love you, Ronald!" she murmured again to the pillow. "I am -yours alone!" The saying of the words seemed to merge her dream-life -into unison with the actual. - -There was much to do in the long, freshly-aerated ward that morning. As -one by one each bed had its sheets turned back, exposing the gashed, -perforated or fractured bodies of men who winced with pain, the crude -other side of war was laid bare. Into strong relief, too, was thrown -the complementary phase of the other side of the vast catastrophe where -the noblest are proudly conscious of the wounds they inflict. With -tender care, the utmost solicitude not to cause one unnecessary pang of -suffering, the khaki-clad doctors, the grey-uniformed, white-coifed and -aproned nurses, laboured to save and heal. - -Sister Braithwaite thrust herself utterly into her daily task of -dressing wounds, of soothing pain, of bringing a cheerful smile on to -the face of the sufferer. - -So doing, she eluded for quite long periods the obsession which haunted -her. - -Number Ten was once more the focus of interest in the ward. His -condition had grown worse during the night. To-day he was in a -dangerous fever. The doctor was grave. Sister Braithwaite watched over -him with unremitting care, found herself passionately fighting off -death. In the early afternoon the crisis passed. He woke from a quiet -sleep, looked up to the Sister standing by his bed. - -"You have saved me, Sister," he said in a weak voice. "I could feel -it----" - -"Hush, Captain Lavering. Go to sleep. We are all trying to get you -well." - -"It was you," he said faintly, as his eyes closed once more. - -The silence of the ward was suddenly broken by a merry peal of bells -floating in through the open windows. In the little village church -tucked away in a near-by hollow of the moor a wedding was being -solemnised. Sudden tears, a strange emotion, surged up in Sister -Braithwaite. - -A case that had made good progress was removed from the ward, a -newly-arrived, severely-wounded man brought in. - -"If only it were Ronald!" The neat, prim figure of the Sister, -supervising the orderlies busy lifting the casualty into the bed, gave -no indication of the desperate agonised prayer. - - * * * * * - -She dreamed. - -"----Mine at last, my beloved--really mine!" The familiar voice -thrilled through her, very close, overhead. - -"Yours! Always yours!" she heard herself murmur. - -She took her head from the darkness that obscured her vision--it was -his coat against which she had been nestling; she saw the little white -touzled-up hairs of the rough tweed ere her gaze stretched to longer -focus. She looked to his face, met his vivid eyes--looked round at her -surroundings. - -They were alone in the first-class compartment of a railway train -that rocked and roared. His lips were pressed on hers. "The great -day, dearest!" he said. Her mind leaped to the allusion. Their -wedding-day! They had been married that morning--she could hear still -the joyous peal of bells--were going away on their honeymoon. The -tweed suit he wore was quite new--something like the old. She was in a -travelling-dress that he had already admired. Of course! It all came -back to her as if she had just awakened from a little sleep. - -The train rushed on. She lived through all the cinematograph-like -pictures of the journey. A halt and descent--little anxieties about -the luggage--then--after an interlude which was vague--another -train, another long journey--all was a continuous long experience. -She thrilled at a surreptitious squeeze of his hand--ah, yes, there -were other people in the carriage now--rounded her lips at him in a -provoking similitude of a kiss, daringly profiting by the inattention -of their fellow-travellers. A yearning for him--induced by the naughty -little act--filled her breast, persisted. There was bustle, confusion. -They were in a throng of travellers who hurried. Hurry! They must not -lose the boat. It lay there before them, only its upper works seen, its -two great funnels leaning backward, belching black smoke. The black -smoke spread over the sky. It was night. They were on board the boat, -cradled in an easy motion, sensible of the throb of the engines. On -and on they journeyed, linked in a very close communion of eyes that -spoke, of hands that squeezed each other. She tasted a thousand little -kindnesses. How good he was! How loving! - -And still the journey went on. Yet more trains. She must have slept. -She woke to a great city, filled with innumerable inhabitants, all -very busy. They spoke a strange language very rapidly to one another. -She could not understand a word. But he, Ronald, understood--conversed -with them in their foreign tongue. How clever he was! There was music -somewhere--from a lighted café that flooded a damp street with radiance. - -She was bewildered in a variety of new and strange impressions, leaned -on him, soul and body. He led her, sure of himself. Her love for him -seemed to increase at this revelation of his unfailing self-reliance. -Yet she knew that she loved him with all her being, had always loved -him so. - -"And how do you like Brussels, dearest?" his ringing voice asked. -Brussels? Of course! As though a veil had fallen from her eyes she -saw that they were in the middle of the Grand' Place, lights playing, -Rembrandtesque, on the carved stonework of the ancient buildings. She -recognised it at once--how accurate the picture postcards had been! -Brussels--the honeymoon journey! She thrilled with happiness, leaning -on his strong arm. - -The dream continued----. - - * * * * * - -All through the next day its vividness haunted her. At times she had -to will herself to live in the actual world. She scarcely spoke. The -Medical Officer in charge of her ward stopped her, asked her if she -were all right, his eyes searching her face. He sympathised with her in -her loss so kindly and gently that she loved him for it. - -Number Ten was still the great preoccupation. He claimed incessant -care. But he was in the faint beginnings of good progress. Strangely, -it seemed that when she tended him there was a conflict in some obscure -part of her. There seemed to be an inarticulate voice, immensely -remote, vaguely minatory, not explicit. Captain Lavering insisted that -she was his rescuer, his eyes more eloquent than his words. It made -her feel awkward, curiously shame-faced. His reiteration threw her out -of that smile-armoured impersonal professional relation to the patient -which alone makes continuous hospital work possible. She masked her -face with a gentle severity. When he slept she was unreasonably glad. -But she liked tending him. The contact with actual life, pain-stricken -though it was, obliterated to some extent the haunting memory of that -dream world from which she shrank, vaguely frightened. - -She forced herself to live only in the long, quiet, bright ward; in the -chattering society of the Sisters' messroom when off duty. - - * * * * * - -Her dream linked itself onto its predecessor. The honeymoon was -finished. She looked back down a long vista of travel, of happy days. -She had really lived through all those experiences. She picked them one -by one from her memory like rare pieces from a jewel-case, contemplated -them with a smile. Each expanded into a picture. The day they had -walked together down the rugged path of the tiny valley imprisoned in -the wooded hills, a fierce little stream outpacing them as it dashed -against great boulders, and had come upon a sunny meadow where children -garlanded with flowers laughed and danced in a ring; a wonderful blue -lake on whose shores were yellow houses with red roofs and ancient -cypresses on a greensward near the water's edge--the melancholy -reiterated note of a church bell beat like a pulse through the scene; -an old, old town with gabled houses leaning in close confidence, rich -carvings--the grotesque; in all was a pervading peace, rich quiet life -that thrives sleepy with well-being from year to year; over all was the -ecstasy of mutual love through which they had beheld the world. - -Another memory came to her--early morning in the Alps, a sea of wild -narcissi all about them and, beyond, the great white peaks glittering -in the sun of a blue sky. They went on and on, up and up. The flowers -were left behind--and she remembered she had regretted leaving them, -had grudged the effort to climb for the sake of climbing--but he had -insisted. They stood at last high up, dazzlingly white snowfields -stretching away on every side, a summer sun beating hot upon them. -The air was rarefied, induced in them a subtle ecstasy as they stood -marvelling at the brilliant austere beauty of the great peaks lifting -themselves into the sky, their robes slipping from their rocky -shoulders in a miracle of purity. He encircled her waist with his arm, -spoke in the voice that stirred mysterious depths in her. - -"Dearest," he said. "Not a flower but snow is the true emblem of -love. White as the essential soul, how soon on the lower levels it is -defiled, disappears! But on the heights it endures stainless for ever, -no matter how hot the kiss of the sun." - -And she had kissed him, speechlessly. - -But all this was past. She was at home now, waiting for him to come -back from his work. Their home, the home they had always planned, was -all around her. The very pieces of furniture they had regarded in shop -windows with longing eyes, had calculated the cost of, were there. -That quaint old table in the centre of the room, half covered with the -embroidered openwork white linen laid for tea--how covetously they -had once looked on it! How depressed they had been at the dealer's -price! But it was there, after all. Ronald had bought it, he who never -rested until he attained his heart's desire. How purposeful he was! How -strong! How loving-kind! She closed her eyes, leaned back in a swimming -ecstasy of love. - -There he was! She heard his footstep at the other side of the door. -He entered, was radiant, enfolded her in that wonderful embrace where -she was a surrendered thing. He had a little parcel, handed it to -her. Tremblingly she opened it, certain of delight. It was a framed -enlargement of a photograph they had taken that morning in the high -Alps. With a little happy cry she gazed once more on the long smooth -slopes of snow, stretching up to the dark-patched peaks. Once more his -arm encircled her, his deep voice spoke. - -"So shall we live, darling, always--ever upon the heights." - - * * * * * - -She lay awake in her bed, ere it was day, and understood in a great -tremulous awe. In her dreams she and Ronald were living precisely the -life they would have lived had there been no war. The honeymoon--their -home--all would have been accomplished ere this. Had there been no war! -Exactly as she had dreamed they would have travelled together--his arm -would have enfolded her--in long, long happiness they would have lived. -She burst into a passion of tears, stifled in the pillow. Then she -turned her head, wondering, feeling as if her heart had stopped. Would -this dream continue? Was it--in some mysterious way--_real_? Her lips -moved in a prayer, but she scarcely knew what she prayed. - -She was glad to escape into the busy actual life of the ward, into the -light of day. - -From now onwards her life definitely assumed this double phase. - -In the hospital she was the Sister Braithwaite that all had known, -diligent, bravely smiling, conscientious in her duty. Those about her -remarked only that there was sometimes a curious stillness in her mien, -spoke pityingly among themselves of the sad loss of her soldier lover. -But death in a hospital is no rare catastrophe and none lingered on the -topic. There was much to do, a continual stream of new arrivals from -the distant conflict, the doubtful fate of many of those already long -suffering. There were deaths, recoveries, operations of professional -interest. - -Number Ten went slowly but steadily towards health. Sister Braithwaite -deliberately avoided all contact with him save the professional. -When she chatted with a patient in the ward it was not with him. His -gaze was reproachful, and she would not see it. Sometimes when she -approached him he would, half-jokingly, reiterate that she had saved -him. She would not hear. A strange sense of insecurity disturbed her -in his presence. She half divined that he nursed a project----. She -fled the glance of the steady, resolute eyes in the strong face. -When at last he had made such progress that he could be removed to a -convalescent ward she was glad at his departure. - -At night she passed into another world. There was no war in that -life--never had been war. From dream to dream she lived through a -continuous existence--the wife of Ronald. It was all vividly real. It -was the life they would have led--it played itself out now in what to -her daytime consciousness was a realm of shadows. Not always did she -dream, or rather not always did her consciousness register the events -through which she passed. But later dreams had dream-memories in them -and the record had no gaps. Time passed in that dream-world without -relation to the terrestrial days. In one night she frequently lived -through long periods. He was always kind to her, always loving. She, -too, loved him passionately, with all her soul. - -But in the daytime her being shrank from that shadow-life. She was -afraid--mysteriously, primitively afraid. She could not mourn as -she would have liked to mourn. Sometimes she asked herself whether -she was not ceasing to love her dead affianced. She tried to evoke -his image--and often, to her distress, succeeded not. The strongly -masculine features of Number Ten, Captain Lavering, rose before her -mental vision, would not be banished. Then she despised herself -bitterly. In remorse she willed herself forward to the night, bade -herself not shrink, and when the hour came gave herself to the darkness -tremulously, like a slave of the harem who goes into the chamber of -her lord. The portal passed she was happy, completely happy--as happy -as she would have been the wife of Ronald in the dainty little home -that never could be other than the home of her dreams. With strange, -almost terrifying, completeness the shadow-life evolved. The house she -lived in she knew in all its details, had its rooms that she preferred, -views from its windows that she loved or veiled. The presence of her -husband was a reality that filled it. She knew his footsteps, heard -his voice. (It rang often in her ears when her eyes unclosed in the -little matchboarded cubicle suddenly unfamiliar.) They had long, long -conversations together--wonderful little interludes where their always -underlying love blossomed into delicate flower. She saw his face -clearly, saw that it was changing slightly, growing more set, less -boyish. There were difficulties--the difficulties of real life--to be -encountered. An anguished struggle with bills and finances that would -not meet wrung her soul all one night. She pledged herself to such -brave economies! But the difficulties were overcome, the memory of them -lost in the embrace of her lover. Rarely, rarely was she unhappy until -she woke. - -And day by day, not keeping pace with her other life, her life of work -in the hospital went on. Week linked into week, month into month. The -great open moors around her changed their hue, were often shrouded in -mist. In December the first frosts glassed the pools. Many were the -patients who had come and gone. The little cemetery under the hill was -fuller. Other sufferers were more fortunate. Captain Lavering was fully -convalescent, nearing his discharge. She saw him often at a distance, -avoided him when he tried to approach her. She could not have explained -why, even to herself. Somewhere deep down in her, the virility of -his aspect set a chord vibrating. She was always extremely, almost -painfully, conscious of his propinquity. For many weeks they had not -exchanged a word. - -There came a night wonderful above all others. She thrilled with -a strange new ecstasy, drawn from deep springs. It was the quiet, -speechless ecstasy of some mysterious fulfilment. She was filled with -a great tenderness that welled up and overflowed like a source. There -was something warm against her heart. She looked down and saw that it -was a newborn babe. She was in bed. Then, in a great surge of deeply -flowing joy, she understood. She was a mother--the mother of Ronald's -child! She could have cried for joy that lacked expression. Her fingers -stroked thin silky hair on a tiny head. - -Suddenly she was aware that Ronald was looking down on her. She yearned -up to him, but as she did so she was conscious that her allegiance was -divided. Not all of her, as heretofore, reached out to him undividedly -his. There was a dumb insistent claim at her breast. She smiled to -disguise it. - -But it seemed that he understood. His face was troubled, the vivid eyes -reproachful. He leaned over her. - -"Dearest," he said. "I cannot share you. The child must never be more -than the symbol of our love. You must be mine--always mine. Promise me -that you will always be mine alone!" - -His jealousy flattered her. A gush of affection for the strong lover -admitting her power, mingled with the mother-craving for protection for -self and child, was a fresh impulse revivifying the old allegiance: - -"Always yours, dearest--always yours!" - -He looked at her searchingly, his head seeming like a carven figure of -destiny, strangely significant. - -"I could annihilate the thing that comes between us," he said, -and she was a little frightened at his voice. It rolled away big, -superhuman--she harked back, in a flitting thought, to an earlier -dream-memory. - -He turned to a picture on the wall, pointed to it. It was the Alpine -scene. - -"You and I," he said. "Always together--alone upon the heights." - -"Yes! Yes!" she said, only half understanding. "Always--always yours!" - -She woke with a start, her own voice ringing in her ears. Night was -still a blackness in the little cubicle. She put out her hand, touched -the matchboard wall to assure herself of her surroundings. - -When she woke again it was to look through the window and see the world -white with snow. She remembered with some pleasure that she was off -duty, had the day to herself. She wanted to be alone. Her head was a -whirl of troubled thoughts. The emotions of her dream were still in her -blood. Her arms felt vacant as though an infant had just been taken -from them. A new longing came up in her--a craving for motherhood. She -linked it to her dead lover. "Oh, Ronald!" she murmured. "If only we -had been married before you went to the war----" she left the thought -unfinished. The craving persisted, apart from his memory. She ached -for a real, living affection in this world of men and women. Strange -thoughts haunted her while she dressed. - -As soon as possible she escaped from the hospital, went out upon the -moor that stretched in suave contours of dazzling white. A pale -blue sky sank into its mists. A cold wind hurried over it, whirling -up little columns of dusty, frozen snow. She walked far into its -solitudes, she hardly knew whether to escape from her thoughts or to be -alone with them. - -At last she turned back. She had climbed out of a little hollow, -was descending a featureless slope when suddenly she perceived the -figure of a man, dark against the snow. He walked towards her quickly. -Simultaneous with her recognition of him was the flush of blood to -her face, a peculiar nervous thrill. It was Captain Lavering. She -half hesitated. Then she strode forward, an insidiously victorious -temptation masquerading as strong will. Why should she not pass him? It -was absurd. He might think----. She hoped that she was not blushing, or -that the keen wind which fluttered her veil would be the self-evident -excuse. - -They met. He stopped, made a gesture of salute. - -"Good morning, Captain Lavering." She was glad to hear her own voice, -had been afraid that she could not bring it to utterance. What -was there so troubling about this man? She avoided his eyes. "I'm -pleased to see you walking about again." The crisis was successfully -surmounted. She made as if to continue her way. - -"I saw you in the distance, Sister," he said bluntly. - -She did not find the commonplace remark for which she sought. He -blocked her pathway. - -"I have been waiting to speak to you for a long time, Sister," he -continued, as though he knew there was no necessity for a trite -beginning. "Ever since you saved my life. You did--we won't discuss -that." She stared at him, speechless. "But I have waited until I was -sure that I was quite well again. You know what I am going to say. For -a long time you have felt what was in my mind. You must be my wife." - -He was strong and real--vividly actual. She felt as she did sometimes -when her eyes opened from a dream into the solid surroundings of her -cubicle. He barred off the other world. - -"No--no," she breathed, dodged past him, hurried over the snow. - -He was by her side, keeping pace easily with her. - -"You can't escape me like that," he said. There was obvious brute -masculinity in his tone. Though she tried to resent it, it did not -displease her, and she was angry with herself that it did not. "Listen. -I am a plain man. There is no fancy romance about me. I don't want -illusions. But I love you." He stated the fact with absolute decision. -"I can offer you a good position and all that, but I know that does not -affect the matter. The vital thing is that from the moment we set eyes -on each other something happened----" for the first time he faltered in -his tone. "We both knew it. There it is. I hate being sentimental. But -I want you--and I know that you want me." - -"No--no!" she said again, almost running. A blind desire to escape, -from herself as much as from him, dominated her. "I--I can't." - -"Can't? Why not? You are free. I know you were engaged. But he -is--gone. We live in a world of flesh and blood. You can't exist on a -memory. Besides," the words came like a slave-driver's whip--she almost -obeyed it--"you never loved him as you love me!" - -She revolted, stung to burning resentment against herself equally as -against this masterful, crude male. She stopped and faced him. - -"Captain Lavering, you talk like a sick man." She triumphed in the -steadiness of her words. "You have insulted me in the most uncalled-for -manner. Let that be enough." - -His eyes looked into hers, challenged her sincerity, were assured of -it. He went red, looked awkward. - -"Forgive me," he mumbled. - -She went on without a word, ignored the fact that he accompanied her. -They breasted an upward smooth slope of snow that stretched up to a -crisp, clear outline against the blue sky. He ventured a sidelong -glance at her, a little light of primitive cunning in his eyes. - -"Quite Alpine, isn't it?" he said. - -As intended--his tone implied a resumption of ordinary commonplace -relationship--the words took her off her guard. But he was ignorant -of their esoteric significance. In a flash, in a deep convulsion of -the soul, she saw the Alpine picture, vivid with symbolism, of her -other life. "--On the heights!" In the full poignancy of the emotion -it unlocked--her own vow of fidelity ringing in her ears from another -world--she found herself struggling in a man's tight grasp, hot -breath upon her face, lips seeking her own. "You must! You shall!" he -muttered, straining forward to her. She stiffened, fought in a frenzy. -"Ronald! Ronald!" she cried. - -An icy wind swept down the slope, smote upon them like a breath from -the grave, shudderingly cold. Captain Lavering uttered a little cry, -relaxed his grip, and fell sideways upon the snow. - -Sister Braithwaite stared at him in horror. A great fear came upon her, -an awe in the presence of unearthly power. _She knew!_ Her soul slipped -back into its dream-state, confronted the visage of her lover, stern as -destiny. The eyes judged her, forgave. Then, weeping hysterically, she -ran towards the hospital. It was not far distant. - -They brought in the dead man. - -"H'm," said the Medical Officer, looking at him. "Cerebral hæmorrhage. -This intense cold---- I was always rather afraid of a lesion. A nasty -shock for you, Sister. Well, well, another one finished--very sad, very -sad." - -An orderly brought Sister Braithwaite her share of the just arrived -post. There was a letter from Ronald's mother. It enclosed one from the -War Office. - -"Dear Madam," it ran. "It is regretted that no further details have -come to hand regarding your son. Officially he is still posted as -'missing, believed killed.'" - -Sister Braithwaite shut herself in her cubicle, talked to the -photograph with the vivid eyes, talked to it as primitive woman talks -to the lover who has destroyed his rival. She reached out to the Other -Side. - - - - -NA NOS! - -(_A study of Serb infantry in battle, 1914_) - - -There is no moon. In black darkness a long file of men stumbles up a -stony gully. Precipitous rock-walls keep them to the bed of a vanished -stream, where they trip in succession over the same loose boulders. -Their curses are hushed instantly by voices not less authoritative -because they bark in whispers. Wrapped in long sheepskin coats the -figures pass like ghosts of an antique time, whose grimness is -accentuated by the incongruity of modern rifles with fixed bayonets -that glint under the myriad stars. Presently the head of the file halts -in what seems a black pit, the edge of which cuts sharply against -the star-powdered bluish darkness of the sky. Those behind arrive -continuously, collect in the hollow, are formed into ranks by sergeants -who bully _sotto voce_ like angry conspirators. The company commander -is crawling on hands and knees up the wall of the hollow, which is not -so precipitous as it appears in the darkness. - -The captain peers cautiously over the crest. He sees only blackness -which rises all around him from an abyss that reflects no ray in its -profundity, and blots out the stars high in the sky with irregular -cones and shapeless masses of inky night. From those mountains a -wind blows chilly on his face. He fixes his gaze upon a point in the -blackness far across the gulf. The point is decided upon after careful -reference to a phosphorescent compass in his hand. He stares at this -blank darkness until it almost seems that he must be staring against -closed lids. - -Suddenly in the gloom at which he strains his eyes, he perceives a -pin-point of light. It flickers for an instant and then projects itself -in a ray of intense brilliance widening from the point of origin, right -across the gulf. It falls in a great oval of blinding whiteness upon -the hill-side to his right. Its hard white glare is painful in its -brutality. Everything outside the ray is swallowed in a blackness where -even the stars are lost. The white oval on the hill-side moves slowly. -It brings into vivid relief a long line of loosely piled stones behind -which lie, in many attitudes, the motionless bodies of men. Some, -which have fallen across the heap of stones, throw grotesque shadows, -intensely black. The white oval stays its slow progress, vignettes -them from the night. In the centre of the picture one of these figures -stirs, raises itself upon one elbow and rubs its eyes stupidly like a -man wakened from sleep by the sudden glare. - -Instantly a group of sharp reports, multiplied by rapidly reiterated -echoes, breaks from the distant blackness. The figure sinks quickly, a -dark hole visible in the ghastly whiteness of its face. The oval begins -to move again, assuring the men who lurk far back in the night that -this uncompleted shelter-trench is held only by the dead. - -Suddenly the light is cut off. The stars reappear in a sky that seems -strangely pallid. The mountain masses silhouette themselves more -definitely than before against their tenebrous background, the outlines -of the high summits, where some snow still lies, picked out in a grey -that has just the faintest tinge of yellow. From the black gulf below -eddies of mist boil up like steam from a mighty cauldron, veiling the -shrinking stars. A wall of fog rolls along the hill-side, blots out the -mountains and the sky. - -The captain turns instantly and calls down an order in a carefully -restrained voice. The company in the hollow springs up and over the -crest with the agility of born mountaineers. They follow their captain -at a quick pace into the bank of fog. Behind them is a murmur of -voices. The other companies of the battalion are coming up, deploying -rapidly into line when they reach the crest. The first company has -halted for a moment to allow time for their arrival. Seconds are -precious. At any moment the cloud may roll away, expose them to the -glare of hostile searchlights and a storm of bullets. In two long lines -the battalion moves briskly down the hill, leaving the unfinished -shelter-trench upon its right. Behind, another battalion is coming up -in support. - -Some way down the slope the infantry breaks out of the mist. They open -their files and slacken pace, dodging nimbly from one to another of the -boulders which glimmer in the twilight. Overhead the searchlights move -uneasily in long pale bands against the paling sky and fall upon the -fog-belt in white circles as upon a magic-lantern screen. The infantry -is not yet discovered. It works stealthily but quickly forward, aiming -at a lower ridge that rises before them. They seem alone in the narrow -mountain-valley that begins to reveal itself in the dawn, but their -officers know that to right and left of them other battalions are -likewise creeping forward. They reach the ridge, halt and lie down upon -its slope, wisps and wreaths of mist blowing over them. - -The searchlights are extinguished--when, it is hard to say. The sky -is now a translucent ultramarine where no stars are left, and against -which the mountain peaks stand out in vivid orange. White fog patches -wander over the dark lower faces of the hills. The infantry creeps -cautiously up to the summit of its ridge and, like one man, peeps -over. In front of them is a mountain-wall that goes back at an angle, -leaving a great gap. Another ridge, parallel to their own, starts from -the mountain-side and drops away to the left. Its foot is lost in a -sea of fog. Between them and that ridge the ground drops into a ravine -and then mounts in a smooth _glacis_ to the further crest. A little -below its summit the loose boulders, which are everywhere sown over -the ground, are disposed in a long regular grey line. The officers of -the battalion give the range to that line--750 yards. The infantrymen -snuggle down behind boulders and inequalities on the crest and adjust -their sights. There is a general loosening of sheepskin coats, a tinkle -of cartridge-clips laid in readiness, and then the line lies still, -waiting, its bayoneted rifles slid back out of view. - -Far back the infantry brigade commander is lying upon his stomach upon -the height to the left of the wrecked shelter-trench. The fog-belt has -moved off. He has a clear view from ridge to ridge. Suddenly he takes -his field-glasses from his eyes and picks up a telephone receiver at -the end of a long line trailing over the ground. He speaks a few words -into it, replies shortly to mysterious enquiries that emanate from -the far distance, suggests a number of metres in thousands. Almost -immediately the shriek of a shell passes overhead and the report of a -cannon-shot comes echoing along the valley, arrives in a succession of -distinct shocks to the ear. Ere the echoes have died away another shell -screams past, followed by its series of reverberations. The infantry -brigadier is watching the distant ridge through his binoculars. The -line of boulders is faintly visible. The first shell bursts above it -and beyond; the second bursts short. The bracket is too wide. The -brigadier speaks again through the telephone. Another shell wakes weird -noises from the mountains as an accompaniment to its own shriek. It -bursts just in front of the line of boulders above it. Through his -glasses the brigadier sees the splash of shrapnel bullets upon the -rocks like twinkles in quick whiffs of dust. He speaks two brief words -into the telephone. A flight of shells rushes overhead like a covey -of screaming spirits and with an enormous roll of thunder arrives the -roar of a battery in rapid action. Its reverberations roll and clash -endlessly, surging from side to side of the valley in confused waves of -violent sound. The long line of boulders is suddenly whelmed in a cloud -of dust that renews itself as fast as it drifts into the air. From -one end of that cloud spurt tiny points of flame, and shriek crosses -shriek in the air above, whilst a series of sharp crashes mingles -with the continuous roar. Quick puffs of white smoke appear in groups -against the blue sky. In the unfinished shelter-trench spurts of dust -leap up around the bodies of the dead men who lie behind the boulders. -A battery of guns has been pushed up into the infantry line over there -on the hostile ridge and, unobservant of the menace close at hand, is -spending its fury upon the trench that it wrecked overnight. - -The firing line upon the intervening ridge lies quiet in its -concealment. Its officers have no wish to provoke a _rafale_ from a -battery protected by tall stone sangars. Intently they watch the sheets -of dust that spurt up high over the line of boulders like the beat of a -rough sea against a breakwater. They mark where the long thin tongues -of flame shoot out ceaselessly in reply, spitting at a distant target -far behind them. They communicate these observations to the battalion -commander who is smoking a cigarette in an attitude of ease a little -way down the slope. A man close to him commences a series of quick, -jerky gesticulations with a pair of flags held stiffly at arm's length. -No flags wave in reply, but, far back, the brigadier at the telephone -speaks. A great shell rushes overhead with the roar of an express -train. A moment later the officers upon the ridge see a sudden eruption -of flame and rocks in the centre of the line of boulders. They send -another message down to the signaller. Another shell hurtles through -the air, another explosion shoots upward, this time nearer to the -spitting guns. Where the fumes drift off, great holes, in which there -is a scurry of tiny figures, are visible in the shelter trench. Wide -grins open on the faces of the Serbian firing-line as they draw their -rifles close to them and finger the triggers. They understand fully -the value of artillery support. Again and again the volcanic eruptions -spout into the air with an appalling detonation that breaks heavily -into the rolling echoes which fill the valley. Two of them leap up -suddenly from the very midst of the dust-cloud where the battery is at -work. There is a fountain of flying rocks dark in the centre of the -flame, and in the colossal roar of the explosion a brief, acute note of -human agony comes like a high-pitched discord mingled with a thunderous -bass. A moment later the line of guns is revealed, naked to attack. A -few men are seen darting with short movements about them. Three out of -the six eject a tongue of flame at short intervals. While they fire, -a pale gleam flickers along the Serbian ridge as the bayoneted rifles -are thrust forward, and with a long dry crackle a sheet of bullets -leaps out at the wrecked battery. The sun rises over a shoulder of the -mountains and a band of golden light spreads downwards, illuminates the -flying clouds of dust in which figures can just be seen frantically -endeavouring to turn the guns in the new direction. They are picked -off one by one with deadly aim. Above the trench the shrapnel bursts -incessantly, a new shower starting ere its predecessor has reached -earth. - -Along the Serbian ridge the sheepskin-clad figures lie in snug -safety and pull trigger with chuckles of satisfaction. There is no -excitement, only a keen savouring of primeval emotions that can now be -given rein. About them dance quick spurts of dust and bright splashes -of nickel appear upon the rocks. An irregular rifle fire is coming from -the hostile ridge. One or two shells burst overhead and then the guns -fall silent, are forgotten. The company on the right starts suddenly to -its feet, dashes over the crest and down the slope. The rifle fire from -the other ridge changes in character, welcomes them with rapid, violent -claps. A couple of machine-guns strike into the din with a continued -rapid and resonant hammering, nerve-racking in its persistency. Men in -the running line throw up their arms or pitch forward here and there, -but the company is lost to sight almost immediately on the rock-strewn -hill-side. The men dart forward from boulder to boulder. Behind them on -their left other companies are descending in quick succession towards -the ravine. - -At the other side of the ridge, in rear, the second line of the -battalion is coming up in support, and behind them the other battalions -of the brigade are streaming forward, unhindered as yet by artillery -fire. It is a brief respite, however. In a moment or two a distant, -unseen battery has got their range, flings shell after shell to burst -over their heads and fall in a spreading cone of bullets. The brigade -advances with quick onward dashes by battalions that spring up, race a -hundred yards and disappear for a breathing space among the boulders. -Gradually they draw into the shelter of the intervening ridge, and -battalion after battalion tops it and moves down to the aid of those -in front. A strong firing-line remains on the crest, keeps up a steady -stream of bullets against the long grey line still whelmed in dust by -an unceasing hail of shrapnel. The brigadier ensconces himself in a -rock shelter at the end of this firing-line, the telephone receiver -still ready to his hand. - -The first line of the attack has now reached the ravine. The men -seize hold of tiny shrubs that grow out at overhanging angles and -swing themselves down, scrambling over loose stones and sliding sand. -A hail of bullets is beating upon them from the trench above and -from a line of supports that has come into action higher still. The -machine-guns hammer with an appalling energy that knows not fatigue. -Where their aim is directed the sand spouts up as though struck by -an air-blast from a hose. In that ravine the first line is more than -decimated. Men stumble and fall upon their own bayonets. Corpses, -hanging limply, weigh down the shrubs. With fierce shouts the survivors -scramble onward. The second line has caught them up, is mingled with -them. The battle-madness seethes in every head; each bullet that -strikes harmlessly upon the earth is a shock of stimulation to already -hyper-excited nerves. They lose their identity, lose the instinct -of self-preservation in the flood of an older instinct which blinds -them to all but the hazards of the ground, and sweeps them forward -like demented animals frantic to assuage a thirst that consumes -their tissues. A savage cry breaks automatically from every throat; -the blood-congested brains, that permit the action of the muscles, -unconscious of it. They reach the bottom of the ravine, not very deep, -and clamber up in the comparative security of the other side. - -At the foot of the smooth slope which reaches to the dust-whelmed -boulder-line, their officers halt them by orders, entreaties. The men -lie down and open a rapid, irregular fire against the trench. More men -arrive behind them, frenzied with excitement. They attempt to rush -upward, are pulled back by officers, or are struck down quickly in the -rain of bullets from the trench. The rifle-fire up there comes now in -one long rolling crackle through the cloud of dust that flurries in -answer to the continuous crashing of the shrapnel. The fire of the -attack increases in sporadic bursts. - -On the ridge behind, the brigadier speaks a few brief words into the -telephone. A minute later the shrapnel ceases to burst over the trench. - -In the disordered crowd of men that lies at the foot of the slope is -a commotion that defies the efforts of the officers. In vain do they, -knowing what is about to occur, endeavour to form a regular line of -attack up the ravine, as, from those who are still swarming down the -other side, arises one hoarse, savage cry that dominates the crash -of rifle-volleys. It is the battle-cry of a primitive people that -spontaneously clutches its primitive weapon in this awakening of its -oldest instincts, this plunge into the æon-old chaos where man thirsts -for the blood of man. "Na Nos! Na Nos!" comes the cry from a thousand -throats, reiterated endlessly by frenzied men whose faces are deathly -white or inflamed with blood. "Na Nos! Na Nos!" from parched mouths, -from dry, cracked lips the shout issues, overpowering the orders of -the officers. The bloodshot eyes that protrude with wild hatred at -the trench no longer see those officers. It is a savage horde merely, -in which the modern military hierarchy is lost, obliterated by an -intensely individual lust to slay as their ancestors slew. "Na Nos! Na -Nos!" "With the knife! With the knife!" What matters it that the knife -is at the end of a rifle? It is still a knife, the primordial weapon. -With an angry roar, the mass, no longer to be restrained, rushes madly -up the slope. - -With an answering crash the rifle-fire from the trench leaps to a -climax. The men up there are firing for their lives. In the horde upon -the slope is an appalling massacre. Heedless of it, blind to it, the -mass surges upward, happily forgetful of the cartridges in their own -rifles, mindful only of the blade that gleams at the muzzle. They see a -line of faces, white behind countless spurts of flame. With one fierce -roar they hurl themselves upon them. Men in grey-blue spring up and -dash away or turn and run at them bayonet to bayonet. The attacking -line howls in the joy of butchery--"_Na Nos!_" - - - - -PER LA PIÙ GRANDE ITALIA! - - -The hot sun of a morning in early summer beat down upon the narrow -street of a little North Italian town. Down the long, confined vista -of colonnaded shopfronts, hung with striped awnings of warm hue, -the air quivered above the cobbles, troubled the view of an arched, -square-turreted gateway which barred the street. The sky above was -a long strip of intense azure. Sharp to the left, near at hand, was -the roughly-paved piazza, white-fronted Venetian-shuttered houses -looking out to the large round basin, the weather-worn Triton, of -the fountain where the pigeons, flashing in the sun, circled down to -drink. A group of girls, bare-armed, black-haired, skirts turned up -over vividly-coloured petticoats, water-jars underneath the gush from -the Triton's mouth, or poised already upon the graceful head, stood -laughing and chattering about the fountain. Their gaze was unanimously -turned towards the large building, the words _Palazzo Municipale_ over -its arcaded front, which occupied one side of the square. Carved on -that front, beneath the clock, defaced but not entirely obliterated, -might yet be made out the double-eagle of Austria--a memento of a -tyranny that had fled before a passionate patriotism, to entrench -itself, not far distant, high on the crag and glacier of the eagles' -haunts, ready to swoop. But not to that did the merry, whispering girls -dart their flirtatious glances. The two grey-uniformed Bersagliere -sentries, strutting up and down before the building, superb under the -drooping cocks' feathers of their grey-covered tilted hats, were for -once immune. A handsome young officer, black-moustached, dark-eyed, who -stood, one foot upon the running-board of a car that hummed ready to -start, in conversation with another officer, was the point of interest. -Both officers, clad in the grey field-service uniform, wore upon -their arm the brassard which indicated that they were of the Staff. -The officer on the point of departure wore the badges of captain; he -who was giving him his final instructions was a _tenente colonello_ -(lieutenant-colonel). - -"You quite understand what the General wants, don't you, Ricci?" he -said, using the familiar "_tu_," universal between Italian officers. -"As soon as possible after the position is captured, a report on its -possibilities for field artillery if we can advance to the covering -ridge. The General thinks it will command the valley road up from the -railway. You will see. Don't get buried under an avalanche!" - -"Very good, colonel. I quite understand." He saluted--a quick movement -of the hand horizontally below the peak of the képi, palm downwards, as -though shading the sight, in the Italian fashion--and jumped into the -car. He pushed to one side a heavy fur coat, settled himself. A moment -later the car was humming out of the square, spinning down the long -colonnaded street. - -In front of him loomed the heavy mediæval gateway, square above its -arch. Its ordinarily forbidding gloomy aspect was lost in a generous -decoration of green boughs, a trophy of Italian flags, red, white and -green, above a white-crossed shield, a great inscription--"Per la più -grande Italia!"[2] The battle-cry of Italy's greatest modern poet--the -cry that had rung beseeching, dominating, inspiring, through dithyramb -after dithyramb of the wonderful passionate orations by which he had -wakened the glowing soul of the people into flame, was blazoned here -as everywhere in Italy. Under that gateway thousands of Italy's sons -had marched to conflict with the _Tedeschi_, to the redemption of their -brethren; thousands more would march. And those to come would shout -as those who had gone had shouted: "_Per la più grande Italia! Evviva -Italia!_" The captain, glancing up at it ere the car shot under the -dark arch, carried the inscription marked upon his brain through the -obscurity. Familiar enough, he reperceived its meaning with a thrill. -What mattered the little individual life he was hurrying to risk? "_Per -la più grande Italia!_" - -The car sped along a road on the left side of a pleasant valley. In -front, immediately claiming the eye, a range of Alpine peaks, dark -rock-scars breaking their dazzling whiteness, exquisitely delicate and -fine-drawn as perceived through the warm atmosphere, towered in lofty -austerity into the rich unvarying blue of the sky. The road, thick with -dust, climbed towards them in long loops and bold curves. Close upon -its left, dark woodland descended, masking ever and anon the distant -prospect behind a shoulder of the hills. To the right, across the green -valley where the cattle stood hock-deep in flowers, village after -village--yellow-ochre and burnt-red, its slant-roofed campanile high -above the flat houses--clustered itself upon an eminence or nestled -low down to the valley stream. Viewing the scene of quiet bucolic -prosperity it was difficult to imagine that among the silent peaks in -the background lurked the terrors of war; men embattled for mutual -destruction. - -Along the road creaked and squealed clumsy country-carts drawn by oxen -with patient heads bowed to the yoke. They hoofed the dust with the -unhurried motion of centuries of tradition in their toil, careless -of the goad of the barefooted _contadina_ crying them to hasten, to -turn aside to allow passage for impatiently hooting motor-lorries. -In strange contrast of locomotion, column after column of lumbering -mechanical transport rushed down from the mountains in a smother of -dust and petrol-fumes. Column after column proceeding upward was -overtaken and passed by the captain's car. Ever in front towered the -range of glittering peaks, in unshakable, eternal calm. Yet from -somewhere among their solitudes came a distant, faint roar that was not -the roar of nature's thunder. - -The road had climbed high. The valley was narrower. The orchards -sloping to its stream were white with fruit-blossoms. The air was -rarefied but still hot under the direct rays of the sun. The dark -woods of oak gave place to darker woods of pine. The road swept round -in sharp curves on low-parapeted stone bridges above a rushing torrent. -Bare green slopes, strewn with grey boulders, opened between the woods. -The car overtook a long marching column of Alpini crunching the dust -under heavily nailed boots, pack high upon the shoulders, alpenstock -as well as rifle, sweating profusely yet pressing upwards with quick -step, the eagle's feather in their soft hats still jaunty. It was the -rear battalion of a brigade whose units were successively overtaken and -passed. - -The road swung to the right round the head of the valley which here -commenced in a sheer drop. As the car followed it there was a sudden -spurt of flame, a drifting tawny smoke, in the dark depths to the -right. A tremendous, shattering detonation that re-echoed endlessly -down the valley ceased at last, leaving audible the eerie moaning of -a great shell speeding upwards over the mountains, already far away. -Another such flash and detonation followed the first. Looking over the -side of the car, the captain perceived, deep down, the long barrel -of a monster gun nosing upwards, men tiny about it. A second gun was -depressed, a crane-slung shell hovering near its breech. Once more -there was a crash--a series of distracted conflicting echoes that -shattered the Alpine silence as thick glass is starred and fractured. -In the sky above the valley an eagle beat the air with heavy, violent -wings, startled into a vertical climb, and then glided swiftly with -outstretched pinions downwards to its crag. - -The road still ascended, left the valley, climbed tortuously a rocky -spur, thinly grassed. The car took the gradient slowly, noisily, on -second speed. In front, struggling on the brow of the spur, a column -of "caterpillar" tractors drawing the component parts of a battery -of heavy howitzers distributed on trucks rattled and detonated like -machine-guns in full action. The battery personnel, harnessed to -long ropes, hauled and strained at the leading piece in an effort to -facilitate the passage of the steep crest. Before the war the boldest -artilleryman would have scouted the possibility of such heavy ordnance -at this height among the mountains. But the battery was only entering -upon the area of its severest toil. - -On the crest of the spur the road turned to the left, climbed at an -easier angle. The view, hitherto much masked by closely overhanging -slopes, opened out. To right and left the gaze plunged into blue -depths, fell on miniature woods and thin white strips that were roads. -Far away on either hand the mountain ranges lifted themselves, superb, -into the blue sky. But directly in front the higher peaks were not -seen. A sheer wall of dark rock barred the view as effectually as it -seemed to bar further progress. - -At the foot of the precipice was a stationary column of motor-lorries, -tiny by comparison with the towering mountain. The road went straight -up to it. The captain in the car bestirred himself, picked up his -heavy fur coat. Far away and high above was a prolonged rumbling roar -that seemed to re-echo from invisible walls in the upper atmosphere. -Involuntarily the captain raised his eyes. The blue sky was untroubled. - -Upon the face of the rock--which leaned back less precipitously than -had appeared--swarmed hundreds of grey-uniformed engineers. They were -laying a pathway of heavy timber, erecting huge sheers, arranging a -complicated tackle of thick rope and large pulleys. Back along the road -the first of the heavy pieces for which this hoisting apparatus was in -preparation lumbered already into sight. - -This tackle was not the only feature on the precipice. A little further -along, at the centre of the line of lorries, a light cantilever steel -standard was connected by drooping wire ropes to the summit. Suspended -from those ropes by a running-gear of pulleys a little car was gliding -steadily upwards, another coming down. It was the _Teleferica_--the -famous wire-rope railway, that, many times multiplied, made modern war -possible at these high altitudes. - -Ammunition in boxes was being unloaded from the lorries, stacked on the -roadside near the _Teleferica_. The downward-gliding car was seized -by a group of waiting men, steadied, stopped, quickly loaded with the -boxes. - -The staff-captain's motor drew up. He descended, walked towards the -_Teleferica_, exchanged a salute with the dapper little ammunition -officer superintending the work. - -"_Buon' giorno, signor capitano_," said the little lieutenant. "Are you -going up to see the attack?" - -The captain nodded. - -"Ah! Some people have all the luck! I never see anything. My battery -never has any casualties--and here am I left supernumerary. I might as -well be mountaineering for my pleasure!" He drew a lugubrious grimace -of comic, half-sincere self-pity. - -The captain struggled into his heavy fur coat, apparently superfluous -here in the fierce heat which glowed from the rock in the noonday sun. - -"A glass of wine before you ascend, _capitano_!" said the lieutenant. -"Come, I will take no denial!" - -He led the way to a little wooden shack close under the lee of the -precipice. Within, the walls were decorated with a number of scathingly -satirical drawings of the _Tedeschi_; some extremely clever studies -of the mountains in their different aspects of light--sunset and -dawn, moonlight. The host, perceiving the captain's glance, made a -deprecatory gesture. - -"What I am reduced to, _signor capitano_! And I might be blowing the -Austrians out of their eyries!" He was typical of that new Italy which, -while it cannot cease to be artistic, holds all of small account that -is not war against the Austrian. He filled the glasses, raised his own, -half turned to a portrait of Gabriele d'Annunzio that shared with the -King the honours of the wall. "_Per la più grande Italia!_" - -"_Per la più grande Italia!_" Both officers drank the toast. "To-morrow -morning she will be a little greater if the fates are kind," added the -captain. - -A few minutes later he was lying full-length in a narrow low-sided -cage, suspended from a pulley on a thick wire-rope, and being hauled -up, with much creaking and strident protest of the pulley-wheel and -vicious jerking of the loose rope, to the summit of the cliff. - -There he was again in a scene of activity. Broad-shouldered porters -in frayed and much-worn Territorial uniforms were bearing away the -ammunition boxes that had arrived at the summit, carrying them towards -the next station of the _Teleferica_. The captain followed in their -track. - -The wire-rope railway ran in short sections from station to station. -The gaps between the sections--stretches of comparatively level -ground--were filled by the sturdy Alpine porters or, in the case of -longer distances, by pack-mules. It was the line of communications -to the sector of the front immediately ahead--a front that for the -most part of 450 miles is thrust out amid the eternal snows of lofty -mountains, along the edges of deep chasms, upon the knife-ridges of -_arêtes_, across the Arctic desolation of glacier and _neve_. Over it -was transported food and ammunition, light guns, clothing, equipment, -all the necessaries for an army in action. By it descended the wounded -and the sick, the unwanted stores. - -Over section after section the staff-captain passed, ascending higher -and ever higher towards his goal. About him rose the great peaks, their -robes of snow dazzling white under the sun, splendidly superior to -the ragged army of stunted pines that sought to climb them, last lost -sentinels straggling half submerged in the snow. Up sheer rock-faces -whence birds of prey darted frightened from their nests, over deep -chasms where he looked down to a dark profundity of pines and rushing -streams, over great empty fields of snow far away beneath him on -which zigzagged long lines of tiny black figures insignificant in the -immensity, bearing burdens, upward and ever upward to the regions where -snow and ice reign in eternal winter, the _Teleferica_ bore him. And -ever between the stations there were throngs of busy men, more and more -thickly clad at each successive height, who marched under heavy loads. - -Always there was a thunder rolling among the mountains. From apparently -inaccessible crags dark against the blue, from bare snow ridges, from -bleak white wastes where there seemed nothing to detain the eye, -spurted little darts of flame, drifted faint smoke. Detonations came -in sharp direct cracks, fantastically re-echoed; in a long rumbling -angry mutter from the more distant guns. From steep mountain-sides, -avalanches, loosened by the concussions, rushed downwards in a white -smoke of flying snow, their thunders rivalling the persistent artillery. - -The staff-captain dallied not. The bombardment which was to prepare -the way for the attack had already commenced. He hurried over the -intervening spaces between the wire-rope stations, ascended higher and -ever higher in the little dangling cages. - -It was afternoon when he reached the limit of the _Teleferica_--a -little snow-covered hut on a desolate ledge. Here, sheeted down from -the weather, stacks of supplies awaited further transportation. It was -the depot of the quartermaster of the battalion holding the sector. An -Alpino soldier, thickly clad, was in waiting to act as guide. - -The staff-captain borrowed an alpenstock from the quartermaster and -set out. In front of him stretched a great smooth slope of snow that -ascended until, high above him, it cut--in sharp contrast--across the -blue of the sky. Its whiteness was blinding--the captain fitted on a -pair of darkened spectacles. Far across it, dark dots strung like beads -on an invisible thread, a company of soldiers was marching in a long -single file zigzagged over the snow, climbing to the crest. Nearer at -hand to the right, vivid spurts of yellow flame shot out from mounds of -snow aligned at a little distance from each other. The detonations of -the battery came crisply to the ear, predominant over the rumble and -roll and confused echoes of the general bombardment. - -As the captain followed his guide up the vast empty slope he heard a -long plaintive whining in the air, descending a scale of tones. It -had not ceased when over to his right a great fountain of snow leaped -skywards from the field--subsided leaving a smother of dirty smoke. -The whine finished in an ugly rush, a muffled detonation. Another and -another followed, in each case the visible effects of the shell's -explosion preceding the noise of its arrival. The Austrian batteries -were replying. - -The echoing thunder of the bombardment continued all through the -dreary fatiguing climb up the slope of snow. The higher peaks began to -throw long blue shadows across its whiteness, their argent heads to be -suffused with gold. - -The ridge to which they climbed was not, after all, the summit. There -was another, yet higher, whence splintered crags serrated the sky. -They reached it, stood among rocky pinnacles. - -"_Attenzione, signor capitano!_" said the guide. "It is dangerous to -linger!" - -Followed by the captain he swung himself round a jut of rock, dropped -into a trench excavated deeply in the snow. As they dropped a couple of -ugly "_phutts!_" just above their heads explained the warning. - -The Alpino grinned. - -"Tirolese!" he said. "We could have gone round by a safer way, _signor -capitano_, but their snipers do not often hit if one is quick." - -The deep trench, in cold blue shadow through the gilded surface of the -snow, descended the ridge at a gentle angle to the summit. It emerged -into another trench that ran roughly parallel to the ridge. This was -filled with soldiers who, well below the high parapet, larked with -one another, threw snowballs, wrestled and laughed. They were keeping -themselves warm during their enforced wait. Every one of them was -garbed in a thick white outer coat, with a hood. This was the main -trench; these were the men who presently were going to attack. - -On steps cut in the parapet stood sentries, peering towards the enemy. -The captain ceded to an impulse of curiosity, interrupted his hurried -progress towards the battalion advanced headquarters, mounted to the -side of one of these sentries, looked out. - -About him was a sea of mountains, their lower flanks in cold blue -light, their snow-covered peaks orange against the azure sky. -Immediately in front of him were the nearly submerged stakes, the -snow-thickened upper wires, of wide entanglements. Beyond them -stretched the confused, humped and fractured white surface of a high -glacier. On the other side of it was again a snow ridge, and in front -of that ridge could be discerned a belt of wire entanglements--the -enemy's. In the midst of that entanglement, and all up the snow to -the ridge, leaped fountain after fountain of white snow, momentarily -brilliant against the sky, falling back into a persistent cloud of dark -smoke. The noise of the explosions overwhelmed the roar of the guns -behind. The preparatory bombardment was in full swing. - -Warfare in the high Alps, with their difficult communications, is -necessarily carried on by comparatively small bodies of men. The -vast masses of the Western and Eastern fronts could not possibly be -maintained among the crags and glaciers of the Italian frontier. -Operations by single battalions have all the importance of a divisional -attack elsewhere. In this case one battalion had been allotted the task -of storming and retaining the enemy's position. - -In the little low timber hut sunk beneath the snow-level which was -the battalion headquarters, the captain found the colonel commanding -the regiment in conference with the local commander and the company -leaders. The atmosphere of the cramped interior was thick with -the exhalations of the half-dozen men, warm with the heat of a -petrol-stove. Capitano Ricci saluted the colonel, was received affably. -A pair of keen eyes under level brows appraised him, smiled upon him. -For his benefit the colonel recapitulated. - -"The plan is briefly this. The artillery is cutting the wire and -shelling the trenches immediately in front of us. The Austrians of -course will assume that we are going to attack there. They will keep -strong reserves at hand in the vicinity--as strong as they can, for -we know that there is no very large force opposite. The artillery -is making it difficult to bring up the reserves from the rear. All -their communications are under fire. Now, we hope that the enemy will -concentrate on the damaged trench in front of us. The attack is being -made by four companies. One company will advance at 9 p.m., using -every precaution not to be seen, and will cross the glacier at an -angle to its right. It will fall upon the enemy's trench here"--he -indicated a spot on the left of the enemy's position as marked on a -plan spread over the table. "It should effect a surprise as the enemy -will be far from expecting an attack on a part of the line which has -not been bombarded at all. Directly that attack gets into the trench -it will turn to the left and continue to press on as hard as possible. -If it is progressing well it will send up a green rocket. If it is in -difficulties it will send up a red rocket. The second company will -advance to within about a hundred metres of the trench that has been -bombarded. There it will halt. If matters go as I expect them to, the -company on the right will send up a green rocket. Then the Austrians, -realising that they have made a mistake, will rush up their men from -the damaged sector and put up a resistance. The green light will -be followed by a red one which will automatically indicate that the -enemy's reserves are engaged. _Whenever that red light goes up_, -whether preceded by a green one or not, the second company will rush -the trench in front of it. I hope that it will find it thinly held. -The third company will advance, with every precaution, at 9.30 p.m. -in support of the second company. The fourth company I will retain as -general reserve under my command. The men will be served with hot cocoa -at 8.30 p.m. Is that quite clear, gentlemen?" - -There was a general murmur of assent. The staff-captain requested -permission to advance with the second company, the one that was -attacking straight ahead. He received it. - -The conference was at an end. Officers went out to give final -instructions to their subalterns, came in again, beating powdered snow -from their huge fur coats. One and all looked like Polar explorers. - -Presently orderlies entered, put a steaming hot meal upon the -table. Crowded closely together in the confined space, the officers -ate--talking and laughing in high confidence, though in all was the -tension which precedes the moment of action. Occasionally during the -meal they heard the dull thud of an Austrian shell's arrival. They sat -over coffee and smoked. - -At last the colonel looked at his watch, stood up. - -"It is time to go to your companies, gentlemen. I rely upon all of you -as upon myself. I have promised the general that the trench shall be -taken--and held. _Per la più grande Italia!_ And good luck to all of -you!" - -Some time later the staff-captain found himself by the side of the -company commander in the deep trench hewn through the snow. It was -night and in the faint reflected radiance of the white walls he could -just dimly discern the figures of a long line of men, all garbed -in white like himself. Only when their heads moved did they detach -themselves from their surroundings. Overhead, above the crisp line of -the parapet, the sky was a black background for an immense multitude of -strangely brilliant stars. A wind raised little whirls of powdered snow -upon the lip of the parapet, blew down into the trench in chill gusts -that penetrated the clothing. Not a sound broke the intense silence. -It seemed almost that one could hear the crackle of the sparkling -vivid stars. The artillery bombardment had long since ceased. There -was nothing to suggest that a death-dealing enemy was hidden only -eight hundred metres away across the glacier. No sound came from the -company that had already advanced. Along the trench was a murmur of -conversation, stifled laughter. The company commander stood gazing at -the luminous dial of his watch. - -9.15! He turned his head, gave a command in a low voice. - -"_Avanti!_" - -It was repeated in a low murmur to right and left. - -In an instant the company commander, the staff-captain at his side, -had sprung up on to the parapet. A bitter wind smote upon them from -the darkness, chilling to the bone. The commander glanced back, saw -his men like a line of ghosts faint in the dim light, already over -the parapet. Then the company commenced to thread its way through the -openings previously cut in their own wire. - -Stealthily, with the utmost precautions to avoid any unnecessary sound, -the company stole across the uneven, heaped and riven snow and ice of -the glacier. Under that black night of stars it stretched away white -to a near indistinctness. The black masses of the mountains occulting -the stars near the horizon were too indefinite to indicate direction. -Compass in hand, the commander counted his paces over the snow, his -only means of judging distance. For greater accuracy the staff-captain -counted also. They spoke not a word. From the obscurity came the -whispers of the men as they preserved a rough alignment. - -Sliding, stumbling over the inequalities of the frozen surface, they -pressed onwards. Somewhere over to their right, higher on the glacier -in front of them, the other company was advancing also. There was -neither sound nor sign of it. In that dim desolation the staff-captain -might with difficulty see his immediate companions. The remainder of -the company was swallowed up, was noiseless. It seemed that they were -stumbling on alone--on and on, an interminable distance--a few lost -figures struggling through an Arctic night. - -Suddenly from the blackness straight ahead a beam of intensely white -light shot out horizontal with the ground, sweeping it. At its first -birth-splutter they flung themselves upon the snow, lay motionless. -The searchlight--a wall of milky radiance to one side of them, -suffusing the snow with a pale reflection--then, as it shone full on -them, a lane of intolerable light from a blindingly violent source, -casting long pitch-black shadows from every hump and hummock of the -ice--swept questingly over the glacier, rested doubtfully here and -there for a moment, passed on again. The Austrians were on the alert. -Cautiously, still repeating to himself the number of paces they had -marched when they dropped, the staff-captain glimpsed to right and left -of him, looking for the company. The nearer figures he saw, immobile, -their white humped backs looking like inequalities of the snow. Those -more distant were utterly indistinguishable. The searchlight ceased -abruptly. The world was annihilated in a profound blackness where the -stars reigned alone. - -The two officers rose to their feet, marched onward, resumed their -count of the paces. To right and left of them rose ghostly figures, -stumbling forward. On and on they went, bruising themselves on sudden -obstacles in the black night, the dim uniform whiteness of the snow a -bewilderment to the vision. Far away in the mountains of the Austrian -position a livid flash leaped to the sky. The reverberation of a -gun's discharge rolled heavily and ominously to their ears, the long -hurrying whine of a shell approached them. There was an instant of -suspense. Were they after all discovered? The shell passed overhead to -burst far behind, inaudible. The trench in front was invisible in the -darkness--not a flare, not a rifle-spurt marked its position. - -"Seven hundred!" Both officers murmured the number at the same moment. - -"_Alt!_" The whispered order was passed to right and left. The line of -ghostly figures sank down, was merged in the ice and snow under the -twinkling stars. "_Baionett' cann!_" There was a faint rustling, a just -audible click and clink of bayonets being fixed. Then again silence. -The company might have ceased to exist. - -The company commander and the staff-captain gazed earnestly to their -right front, towards the point where the other company should be -attacking. At any moment now! Their comrades had a quarter of an hour's -start, had a rather longer, more difficult stretch to traverse. But -they should have reached their objective. At this moment stealthy -white-clad figures should be crawling among the stakes of the -entanglements, snipping at the wire. The two officers stared in the -fateful direction--in suspense for the up-flung flare, the shouts and -stabs of flame. They stared at complete obscurity. - -The searchlight on the trench in front leaped out again to the night, -its origin startlingly close. This time as it swept over them, it -illumined the short heads of the stakes of the wire entanglement that -cast black shadows on the snow which all but submerged them. They were -very near. In the intense light the white craters of the shell-holes -produced by the afternoon's bombardment, hung with broken wire from -supports all askew, gleamed like craters of the moon seen in uncanny -proximity. Once more the light swept the glacier, searched doubtfully -and was extinguished. - -A sudden shot, off to the right front--a swift succession of loud -reports--woke wild echoes from unseen cliffs. High up on the glacier, -to the left of the Austrian position, flare after flare was flung into -the sky, eerily illuminant, plucking strange rock-forms into grotesque -relief. There was a fierce shout that rolled in repeated reverberation, -a wild tumult of voices in a crisis of human lives, confused shots, -isolated and in irregular volleys, the dull thudding explosions of -bombs. The first company was attacking. - -The two officers lying in the snow gazed with fixed intensity towards -the distant fight whose tumult swelled louder and louder with every -moment. The wild flares continued to soar into the night, but as yet -no rocket--neither red nor green--had leaped up to tell them of its -fortunes. The searchlight in front shot out again, swept quickly -from side to side. It illumined only the apparently empty, tumbled -desolation of the glacier. But it continued to blaze out into the -night. Both officers cursed it under their breath. From the trenches -they had left, far behind, rifle-shots rang out, the rapid hammering -of a machine-gun. The reserve company was indulging in a little tricky -target-practice at the searchlight. It was successful. The beam of -light vanished. - -At the same moment a little spark of trailing fire went rushing -skywards from the tumult of the flank attack. It was watched with -suspended breath--green or red? The rocket burst into an effulgence -of uncanny green light. The cheer which came from under it was like a -ghostly utterance of the cheer repressed on the lips of the men lying -prone and motionless on the glacier. The colonel's forecast was sound. - -But now the uproar on the flank increased to a wild intensity. -Incessant were the sharp detonations of the rifles, the dull thuds of -the bombs, mingling with a clamour of voices, shrieks and yells. No -more flares went up from the point of conflict, but from all along the -trench they soared into the air, symptomatic of the nervousness of -the unseen defenders. Machine-guns began to rap out their streams of -bullets in blind hazard across the glacier. - -The staff-captain pressed himself close to the snow, overhead cracked -the rapid bullets of the Austrian machine-guns. The wind that blew -over the glacier, ruffling the loose surface snow on to his face, was -intensely cold. He felt himself a heavy leaden thing, frozen stiff. -Over to his right front the savage noises of the contest, weird and -awe-inspiring on this summit of the world that seemed so uncannily near -to the flashing stars, swelled hideously cacophonous. Livid bursts of -flame flickered and were reflected redly on snow surfaces, on black -jagged spires of rock. All along the trench the blindingly white flares -leaped upward, another soaring as its predecessor circled down in a -parabola that illumined the unearthly confusion of the glacier surface. -He seemed a mortal for ever severed from his fellow-men, set down in -a world that was primitive Arctic chaos, a paralysed spectator of a -contest of fierce mountain spirits fighting over spectral issues, -remote from the interests of humanity. A part of his mind harked back -to the warm summer, the green fields, the somnolent little town of -the valley he had left that morning, and it seemed that those things -belonged to another existence. Yet all the time he gazed fixedly to the -point whence the next rocket should shoot up. He awaited it as he would -await the breaking of a spell. - -At last! The trailing spark of fire shot upwards, burst into hanging -globes of red light, the snow rosy beneath them. On the instant the -company was erect, rushing forward. Leaping, soaring flares from the -trench revealed them--white moving figures casting black shadows on the -white glacier. Spurts of livid flame, loud quick detonations darted -from the white ridge in front. "_Avanti! Avanti! Italia! Italia!_" -shouted the commander. "_Italia! Italia! Savoia!_" came the fierce -antistrophe from the rushing men flinging aside their alpenstocks, -brandishing their bayoneted rifles. - -They were fighting their way through the deep loose snow, the wreck -of the wire entanglements. The staff-captain floundered in a white -shell-crater pitilessly illumined by an overhanging flare. The loose -ends of the barbed wire tore at his clothes, clutched round his legs -like tentacles that would hold him for death to strike. In front the -spurts of flame sprang from a wall of darkness above the white, high -up. Near him was the company commander, extricating himself from the -shell-hole, the last of the wire safely passed. He had a sense of -tensely struggling figures all around him. He, too, got clear of the -wire. He saw the company commander throw up his hands, roll sideways -over the snow, still shouting "_Avanti! Avanti! Italia!_" - -He passed him, took up the cry: "_Avanti! Avanti! Italia! La più grande -Italia!_" leading the company that yelled behind him like a pack of -mountain wolves. He topped the snow parapet, saw a fierce face glaring -up at him in a strange light, a rifle-barrel levelled. His revolver -seemed to go off of itself, a sharp autonomous detonation. The face -opened a black mouth, sank out of vision. - -He sprang into the trench, shouting like a madman. Behind him came -the Italians, tumbling down in fierce onslaught. One of them struck -him violently on the back as he slid down, knocked him face forward -into the snow. As he went he heard a sudden heavy crash, saw a flare -of lurid light. A bomb! He picked himself up, only half realising his -escape, fired at once into a dark body that wrestled with a white-clad -soldier. There was a confusion of blows, of shots, of ear-splitting -detonations--shouts, cries, shrieks. At one moment he was in close -contact with a panting man, warm breath upon his face, eyes flashing -momentarily in the reflection of a rifle-shot, looking into his--the -next the man was gone, there was space about him. The confusion -cleared--there were bodies underfoot--white-clad men about him shouting -unintelligibly. Further along the trench another flare went up. - -The staff-captain turned to his right along the trench. - -"_Avanti! Avanti! A destra! Italia! Italia!_" - -Behind him followed a rush of fiercely yelling soldiery. - -"_Italia! Italia!_" - -They were held up by a traverse of snow-covered rock. A shower of bombs -came over it. From a communication trench a mass of dark figures rushed -at them, shouting with guttural voices. There was bitter conflict--an -ebb and flow in the surge of men. - -Then another fierce shout: "_Italia! Italia! Savoia!_" It was the third -company flinging itself in the trench to support the attack. - -In the midst of the tumult could be distinguished the scream of Italian -shells passing overhead to burst dully on the Austrian avenues of -approach. - -Suddenly the angry dominant note of the babel of voices changed. -Accents of supplication rang out amid the jarring reports: "_Kamerad! -Kamerad!_" - -The staff-captain made his way along the deep dark gully in the snow -where motionless figures stood with arms stretched up above their -heads, rifles at their feet. Ghostly white figures who had retained -their weapons joked at them in rough _patois_. He met the commander -of the company which had attacked upon the flank. The trench was -completely captured. - -There followed a period of fierce toil in the trench. Under the -twinkling stars in the black sky, men delved at the snow of the -parados, cutting fire-steps, building it up into a breastwork. Behind -them little parties of prisoners, stretcher-bearers and slightly -wounded men, stumbled across the broken surface of the glacier. The -toiling men gave no thought to them as they laboured to prepare for -the storm which would surely burst. - -It came. An ugly hissing rush heralded the first Austrian shell. -It exploded with re-echoing violence and a great fount of up-flung -snow right on the newly-strengthened breastwork. Another and another -followed in a methodical bombardment directed by calmly judicial -gunners ensconced in little huts far back in the mountains. Amid the -nerve-harrying rush of ever new arrivals, constant explosions, the men -toiled frenziedly. Reserves of ammunition were brought up. Machine-guns -were put in position. Telephone wires were laid. The fourth company -took up a post on the glacier whence it could rush into the trench in a -counter-attack if needed. - -Suddenly the bombardment ceased. The Alpini crouched behind the -parapet, fingering their rifles with gloved hands, peered out into the -indistinctness of the snow. - -There was a rush of dimly-seen figures from the obscurity, a blaze of -fire from the trench. Near the staff-captain the colonel sat speaking -into the mouth-piece of a telephone. Rush after rush of hurrying shells -passed overhead. Out there on the slope where an Austrian battalion was -surging to the attack, shrapnel after shrapnel lit fierce sudden flares -in the dark sky. There was again a tumult of voices, a re-echoing chaos -of men at strife. It persisted, swelled, died down. - -The silence of an Alpine night rested once more over the battleground, -was broken only by the roar of a distant avalanche. - -In the twilight of approaching morn an officer made his tour of the -outposts on what had been Austria. - -"_Chi va là?_" rang the sharp challenge of a white-garbed sentry almost -indistinguishable against the snow. - -"_Italia!_" came the proud response. - -The first rays of the sun gilded the surrounding summits in the glory -of a new dawn. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 2: "For Greater Italy!"--the theme of d'Annunzio's discourses -in the doubtful days preceding Italy's intervention.] - - - - -PANZERKRAFTWAGEN! - - -Hauptmann von Waldhofer, Batteriechef of the --th Battery -Fussartillerie, stood, helmeted and with buttoned coat, hastily sipping -a cup of steaming hot coffee in his dug-out. The electric light, fed -from the power-station at Cambrai, miles back, illumined a cosy little -apartment. Portraits of the Kaiser and Hindenburg looked stiffly from -the matchboard walls in the incongruous company of a medley of coloured -pages from _Simplicissimus_, _Jugend_, and, quaintly enough, the _Vie -Parisienne_. One side was fully occupied by an enormous large-scale -map of the Somme area, divided into numbered squares, heavily scored -with blue pencil here and there, across which ran a great curve of red -lines massed in intricate pattern--the enemy trenches, and radiating -pin-supported coloured threads from a point slightly E.S.E. of Flers -fan wise far across the opposing line. The battery-made bed, wiremesh -stretched over a wooden frame, sloping slightly from the head downwards -towards the foot, on which lay blankets in the disarray of recent use, -bulked largely in the apartment. But there was still room for a little -table, on which books and writing material were neatly arranged, and -two comfortable plush-covered armchairs, besides the camp washstand -in which the water yet steamed. A carpet, mudstained but thick and -soft to the tread, covered the floor. In the corner remote from the -bed was a stove whose long pipe bent at right angles below the roof -and followed it until it ascended the steep stairway at the entrance. -The deliberate comfort of the dug-out indicated long residence and -the expectation of an indefinite stay. Only the pick and shovel in -readiness by the door gave a hint of possible cataclysm. - -An orderly stood stiffly at attention while his master finished his -coffee. The captain put down the cup. - -"What time is it?" he asked sharply. - -"A quarter to seven,[3] Herr Hauptmann." - -"What sort of morning?" - -"Clear, Herr Hauptmann, but very cold." - -"Any aeroplanes?" - -"None over the battery, Herr Hauptmann." - -The captain gave a final glance at himself in the French wall-mirror -which hung over the table, touched lightly with his finger-tips the -black and white ribbon of the Iron Cross upon his breast, as though -flickering away a speck of dust, and turned to go. As he went the -hanging calendar caught his eye. He tore off the top leaf. The date -revealed was September 15th, 1916. - -He climbed, with the heavy step of an oldish man, the narrow steep -thirty-tread stairway, and emerged into the blue sky of a clear dawn. -Around him was bare rolling downlike country. About half a mile -directly in front of him the village of Flers huddled itself among thin -trees, its skeletal roofs silhouetted against the blue. Between him -and it, but close at hand in a slight depression of the ground, the -four 105[4] mm. guns of his battery stood spaced and silent under veils -of a gauzelike material tufted with green and brown that blended well -with the terrain. Inconspicuous even to a side view, thus covered they -were invisible from above. Near them were stacks of ammunition also -shrouded. Save for a sentry the guns were deserted. The personnel of -the battery was lined up in two queues, where the smoke of a couple of -field kitchens betokened breakfast. - -The battery dug-outs were excavated in the breast of a slight swelling -of the downs, their exits looking N.W., on the flank of the gun -positions. The battery commander stood for a moment surveying his -little community banded for the service of the four veiled idols lying -unhuman and aloof from the domestic needs of men. Then, following -his morning habit, he turned and climbed the little rise of ground. -On his accustomed view-point he stopped and gazed westward. Before -him, clear in the cold early light, the undulating downs gathered -themselves into a long, fairly regular ridge, some two miles distant -at the summit. A maze of communication and support trenches, just -visible, criss-crossed their white lines in the chalk of the hither -slope. On the skyline of the ridge directly west a large clump of bare, -shell-sharpened tree-stumps broke its emptiness. It was the Bois de -Foureaux. Further south a similar group of stumps spiked up into the -sky--the Bois de Delville.[5] That clean-swept landscape mounting to -the desolate skyline was the great dominant fact in his existence. Ever -concrete in his mind, it claimed his first waking vision even as the -weather horizon claims the first heed of the sailor, or Vesuvius the -morning glance of the Neapolitan. This morning it lay cloudless--save -for the towering smoke of an occasional shell-burst in the vicinity -of the Bois de Foureaux--and strangely quiet. The whole wide stretch -would have seemed untenanted by man had it not been for the occasional -primrose twinkle of a field-gun's flash. The reports of such guns came -in isolated slams at varying intervals. To his right an English shell -hurried with a long-drawn whine to burst heavily in Flers. Far back -several enemy aeroplanes, tiny specks in the cold blue sky yellowing -to the dawn, were dodging like midges among a smother of little brown -shell puffs. From overhead came the drone of a German machine. But, by -contrast with the frequent uproar which welled out of this region to -translate itself into long thick smoke along the ridge, the scene was -curiously clear and silent. - -Satisfied with his scrutiny, the Captain turned and descended again -to the battery position. He passed along the line of dug-outs in -the flank of the rise until he reached one whose entrance bore the -notice "Fernsprecher und Befehls Unterstand"[6] neatly painted on a -board. The Oberfeldwebel standing at the doorway sprang to a precise, -heel-clicking salute. The officer acknowledged it curtly and dived into -the dug-out. - -Here yellow electric light replaced the cool grey dawn and tobacco -smoke floated in long wreaths about the bulb. A young lieutenant, -seated at the telephone instrument on the table, took the pipe out of -his mouth and rose smartly as his superior entered. - -"Good morning, Eberstein," said the captain. "Anything fresh?" - -"Nothing, Herr Hauptmann," replied the lieutenant respectfully. - -"Nothing of this rumoured attack?" - -"Nothing." - -The captain seated himself heavily at the table and the lieutenant was -at liberty to resume his chair. - -"And that frightful bombardment all last night, Eberstein, what do you -make of it?" he asked as he lit himself a cigarette. - -The mouth under the fair moustache of the young lieutenant twisted into -a contemptuous smile. - -"Bah! the Englanders want to make us nervous or to persuade themselves -that their wonderful 'great push' is not played out." - -The captain blew out a long puff of smoke and nodded his head in -dubious thought. - -"And you think it is?" - -Von Waldhofer, a man of somewhat deliberate mental processes, was never -unwilling to discuss general topics with his subordinate. Eberstein's -cheering, if crude, optimism was a welcome stimulus to him. - -"Of course it is," said the lieutenant. "Since the first rush they have -been practically fought to a standstill. Here it is two and a half -months since the offensive began and where are they? Now in one week on -the Donajetz we----" - -"Yes, I know, Eberstein," his superior interrupted him. "You did -wonders. But it is the Somme and not the Donajetz that interests us -now." He removed his helmet and passed his hand wearily over a high -semi-bald brow. "I wish I could be as certain as you. These Englanders -do not know when they are beaten----" He stopped, then broke out -again with the over-emphasis of a man wearied with long brooding over -a problem. "The colonel was so positive last night! And he had just -come from the General Staff. At dawn, he said, we might expect it. I -can't make it out. All night that frightful bombardment, obviously -preparation. Then this quiet! I feel something is coming." He shook his -head. "We are much too near in this position." - -"If they come, so much the better!" cried Eberstein. "We will -annihilate them. But I do not for a moment believe----" - -He was stopped by a heavy distant roar that commenced with the -suddenness of a thunderclap and continued in one never-ending roll. - -"There we are!" exclaimed von Waldhofer. He looked at his watch. It -marked 7 o'clock precisely.[7] - -A moment later the telephone bell rang in an excavated offshoot of the -main dug-out. The orderly on duty there answered the call. "Message -from the observation officer!" he announced in a loud voice. Eberstein -picked up the receiver lying on the table in front of him. - -"Yes?" - -"Intense artillery fire all calibres upon entire sector. Whole front -being heavily bombarded. Infantry attack expected momentarily." - -Eberstein repeated the message, and ere he had finished the battery -commander had sprung to the door of the dug-out, shouting his orders. -He heard them megaphoned on by the sergeant-major above. Out there in -the first rays of the sun the four squat idols had shaken aside their -veils, lay surrounded by tensely waiting acolytes. The moment for their -dread speech was at hand. - -In the electric-lit dug-out the two officers sat silently listening -to the distant storm. It rolled in one unnerving continuous thunder. -Not their duty was it to reply. They were detailed for barrage upon a -particular sector. But near at hand the heavy detonations of guns told -off for counter-battery work followed one another ever more quickly. -Near at hand, too, came the long whine and crash of the English -counter-battery shells hurled in reply. - -Again the bell rang and again the telephone orderly called out. "Speak -to battalion commander,[8] please!" - -This time von Waldhofer picked up the receiver himself. - -"_Ja, ja!_ We are all ready!" he said. "Yes. It is coming this time. -No. No further message. Oh, yes, we are in communication. No? Have -you heard anything definite? No. I wonder if there's any truth in it? -Good-bye." He put down the receiver and turned to Eberstein, stopping -for a moment to listen to the roll of the hostile bombardment. - -"That old story again![9] You remember we heard it before the first of -July? Some wonderful invention the Englanders are supposed to have for -annihilating us all. I wonder if there's anything in it?" - -The lieutenant laughed mockingly. - -"The Englanders invent anything? Not they! Besides, I don't believe -in the possibility of any new invention that can revolutionise war. -Just think! Here have all the nations of the world been fighting for -two years, and what new inventions have we seen? None! There have been -perfections and the rediscovery of old methods--that's all. What is the -Zeppelin but a perfected Montgolfier? It is neither the first nor the -only dirigible even! Poison gas and liquid fire--what are they but the -stinkpots and Greek fire of the middle ages, rediscovered and brought -up to date? There is nothing, can be nothing really new!" - -Von Waldhofer shook his head. - -"You are very positive in all your ideas, Eberstein. I don't know. The -English do get hold of new things sometimes--it is true that generally -they leave it to us to make use of them. But these rumours are so -persistent! They are vague, I admit. Yet where there is so much smoke -there is generally a fire. We are very close here. Just listen to that -bombardment!" - -For a moment or two both officers sat silent again, listening to the -roll of awful menace. Then von Waldhofer shouted an order to the -telephonist. - -"Get through to the observation officer!" - -Almost immediately the orderly called out: - -"Speaking, Herr Hauptmann!" - -Von Waldhofer picked up the receiver. - -"What is happening?" - -"The bombardment is continuing," came the reply. "Much damage is being -done to the trenches. Some sectors are almost obliterated. My wire has -already been cut twice." - -"No infantry attack?" - -"Not yet. This is evidently preparatory." - -"Keep me informed," said von Waldhofer, and put down the receiver. He -turned to Eberstein. "Well, we shall soon see." - -"There will be nothing," replied the lieutenant with his contemptuous -laugh. "I should like to bet on it. If there were a patent way of -breaking down trench lines, it would not be the Englanders who invented -it. It would be we Germans!----" - -"Hush!" said von Waldhofer. "Listen!" - -The roll of the hostile artillery ceased as though controlled by a -single volition, remained silent for a few seconds and then, with one -thunder-surge of sound, recommenced. - -"The barrage has lifted!" cried von Waldhofer. He raised his voice to -be heard by the Oberfeldwebel who waited megaphone in hand, his legs -visible halfway down the dug-out steps. "All ready, sergeant-major?" - -"All ready, Herr Hauptmann," replied the tranquil voice of the N.C.O. - -The telephone bell rang again in the dug-out. - -"Message from observation officer!" proclaimed the orderly. - -Von Waldhofer snatched up the instrument. - -"Yes?" - -"_Barrage!_" - -"Fire!" shouted von Waldhofer to the Oberfeldwebel. - -Eberstein looked at his watch. The hour was 7.20. - -As though the commanding officer had pressed an electric firing-button, -the four heavy crashes of his guns followed, merging into each other, -renewed in a never-ending chain of detonations as fast as the crews -could load, relay and fire. A constant stream of 4.2" shells was -rushing from the battery to fall in a narrow area at the predetermined -range. But loud as were the violent concussions of the guns close at -hand, they were but one element in the chaos of frenzied sound that had -leaped from the whole countryside at the moment of their first report. -Every German battery was firing at its maximum intensity. On the -background of the dull continuance of the English guns danced the rapid -reports of the quick-firers at full pressure of urgency, and surged -ponderously the gruff double-roar of the howitzers, and the sharper, -louder crash of the heavies, blended without a moment's interval into -one unceasing peal. The rifle-fire from the trenches was inaudible, -swallowed up. - -Von Waldhofer sat with one telephone receiver pressed to his ear. -Eberstein picked up the other. They heard the observation officer's -voice, faintly. - -"What?" shouted von Waldhofer into the instrument. - -"Something is coming--something strange--I cannot see well, -there is so much smoke--something--slow and crawling--a -machine--firing--more--_schreckliche_----!" The voice ceased abruptly. - -Von Waldhofer and his lieutenant looked at one another. - -"The wire has gone!" cried Eberstein. He had to shout to be heard in -the din. - -"Let us hope it is only that," replied his chief. Both strove -deliberately to ignore the fear in the forefront of their minds. Von -Waldhofer shouted loudly into the telephone: "Kurt! Kurt! Are you -there?" - -There was no answer. - -Outside the dug-out the battery was still firing furiously, would -continue to do so until it received fresh orders. The general uproar -had abated not at all, had if anything intensified. Into the welter of -sound came a familiar, heart-stopping, hissing rush followed by a loud -crash. Another and another and another swooped down on the heels of -the first. An English 60 pr. battery was searching for their position. -But the two officers, fascinated by the mysterious distant menace that -was crawling into their world, did not hear and gave no thought to -the shells. Once more von Waldhofer shouted into the telephone "Kurt! -Kurt!" Still there came no answer. The eyes of the two men met. - -"What can it be?" demanded Eberstein impatiently. "Is he dreaming?" - -"Perhaps the wire has been cut close here," said his chief, resolute -like a good soldier to allow no disturbing speculations in this battle -crisis. He shouted an order to the Oberfeldwebel. - -The telephone bell rang sharply. - -"Order from the battalion commander," announced the telephonist. - -Von Waldhofer was already listening. - -"Yes?" - -"_Feindliche Panzerkraftwagen[10] übersteigen die Schützengräben Punkt -C 32 d 4.1. Sofort Feuer dagegen mit aller Kraft eröffnen!_" ("Enemy -armoured motor-cars are crossing the trenches at point C 32 d 4.1. Open -heaviest possible fire upon them immediately!") - -The battery commander sprang to a little table, outspread with a -large-scale map upon which lay protractor and dividers. A second or -two of hasty calculation and he shouted his orders to the Oberfeldwebel. - -"Cease fire! All guns 20 degrees more right! With percussion! Left half -at 3150 metres! Right half at 3100 metres! Forty rounds battery fire!" - -He heard them repeated in stentorian tones through the Oberfeldwebel's -megaphone. The rapid detonations of the guns ceased. There was a pause, -a few seconds only. Then the voice of the sergeant-major announced. - -"All ready!" - -"Fire!" - -Again the fury of the guns burst forth. - -"_Panzerkraftwagen!_" said Eberstein. "But surely armoured cars cannot -cross wire entanglements and trenches! There is a mistake somewhere." - -"There is no mistake that something has gone wrong and that we are -without observation," returned von Waldhofer irritably, indisposed to -abstract argument just then. The orderly had once more failed to elicit -any response from the observation officer. "Take a couple of men and -a new instrument, follow the wire along as far as possible, get into -a good position for observing, and open up communication with the -battery. No, wait a moment!" The telephone bell was ringing again. - -"Message from battalion commander," said the orderly. - -"Yes?" von Waldhofer spoke into the instrument. "I am firing on them -now. No. I am without observation. Five minutes ago. Really? What -are they? Not ordinary cars? Something quite new? Herr Gott, this is -serious! Yes. Yes. I quite understand. I am not to retreat while I -have ammunition. Good. You may rely on us. We shall stand to the last -man. _Für Gott und Kaiser! Lebewohl!_" He put down the receiver and -stood for a moment in deep thought, his hand pressed to his high bald -brow. Then he shook himself alert. He turned to Eberstein. "Hurry!" he -said irritably. "Everything is at stake!" The lieutenant sprang up the -stairway and vanished. - -Von Waldhofer put on his helmet and gave a last order to the -telephonist before he followed his subaltern. - -"Ring up Captain Pforzheim. Tell him to send up every available round -as quickly as possible. Urgently required!" - -Then he also ran up the narrow stairway into the bright morning light. - -"Two telephonists, all necessary instruments, with me into flank -observing station at once!" he shouted to the sergeant-major. - -He went swiftly towards the battery. The last gun had just finished -its allotted ten rounds. They lay now in their wide-spaced row, smoke -upcurling from their muzzles. Their attendant crews stood, coatless, -mopping the sweat on their brows. Far and near the thunderous uproar -of the battle swelled; it seemed louder than ever now that he had -come from the dug-out into the open air. The English batteries had -lengthened their range. As he walked he glanced at Flers. It was -whelmed in fumes. Explosion upon explosion leaped up among the huddled -houses in the trees, fragments, timbers, earth-clods momentarily poised -upon a dome of dark smoke. White shrapnel puffs sprang incessantly into -existence above the roofs. He heard the hissing rush of an approaching -shell without faltering in his pace, so preoccupied was he with the -urgency of the moment. He saw the quick upspout of smoke; the heavy -metallic crash came to his ears. He noted only that it was well behind -the battery. His eyes were fixed on the officer with the guns. - -"Oberleutnant Schwarz!" he called, stopping suddenly some twenty yards -from the battery. - -The long-coated, helmeted lieutenant stiffened as though galvanised, -walked smartly up to him, saluted, and waited rigidly for his orders. -Oberleutnant Schwarz, a young freckled-face fellow, set the pattern -for discipline in that battery. The commander noted the punctilious -attitude without his wonted inward smile. The occasion had found the -man. - -"Schwarz, communication with the forward officer is interrupted. -Eberstein has gone to re-establish it if possible. I am going into -the flank observing station. Orders will come from there. Put the -Einjähriger into the telephone dug-out. The situation is critical. -Something has gone wrong. A new kind of armoured car has broken through -the trench-line. They must be stopped at all costs. The orders from the -battalion commander are formal. The battery will not retire while it -has ammunition. I have ordered up every available round. The battery -will maintain its position, _whatever happens_, while it has a man and -a shell. Is that clear?" - -Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted in precise parade-ground fashion. - -"Quite, Herr Hauptmann," he replied unemotionally. - -"If I become a casualty the command devolves upon you," continued von -Waldhofer. "Remember these armoured cars are your target, wherever -they can be fired on. Use direct laying if you get the opportunity." A -flight of shells burst in a succession of heavy crashes on the swelling -ground to his right. He glanced at them. "Keep a couple of groundmen -going over the wire to the flank observing station. Here, two of you!" -he shouted suddenly to some mounted N.C.O.'s who at that moment trotted -up to the battery with a string of ammunition limbers. Upon his sign -one of them dismounted. The captain swung himself into the vacated -saddle. Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted once more. Accompanied by the -other N.C.O. the battery commander set off at a hard gallop, up the -rising ground into the welter of dark smoke from the just-burst shells. - -The flank observing station was a splinter-proof dug-out on a little -knoll some 500 yards away to the left flank of the battery. It had -been constructed in prevision of the unexpected. Von Waldhofer spurred -towards it now at the top pace of his horse. Despite many shell-bursts, -on the ground and in the air, he reached it safely. Leaping to earth, -he threw the reins to his follower and sent both horses back. Then he -dived into the dug-out. - -Both telephonists were there awaiting him. The large-scale map was -pinned out on a board, instruments upon it. The range-finder stood by -the observation-slit. One of the orderlies was testing the telephone -communication to the battery. Von Waldhofer pulled his glasses out of -their case, pressed himself against the observation-slit and looked out. - -Directly in front of him the bare ground with many minor undulations -rose steadily to the shattered silhouette of the Bois de Foureaux on -the skyline. But no longer was the view clear as when he last had gazed -on it. Over all lay a haze which the early morning sun was powerless to -penetrate. In the foreground and wide to right and left in the middle -distance spurted and twinkled the primrose flashes of the guns, more -rapidly multiplied than any eye could count. On the ridge the smoke -lay thick, bellying in dark masses over the tree-stumps of the wood, -poised on the horizon in tall, heavy-headed columns like elm trees in -full foliage. In the air long bands of white shrapnel smoke reached out -and clung to each other in a lazy drift, while among them the large -dead-black bursts of heavy high-explosive shrapnel appeared suddenly, -darted a head from the round nucleus and then unfolded themselves -slowly and snakily earthward. Between him and the ridge the whole wide -amphitheatre was being thickly sown with English shells. Near and far -the smoke-columns shot incessantly into the air. Over the road from -Flers to the Bois de Delville, which crossed his view at right angles, -the white shrapnel puffs clustered in ever-renewed groups. Over all, -English aeroplanes in scores flitted to and fro, daringly low yet -apparently unchallenged. No longer did this arena appear untenanted. In -every part there was movement and confusion of Lilliputian figures. Far -away three tiny ammunition wagons raced towards a battery. Closer at -hand, grey-clad infantry dashed in sections along the shell-swept road -from Flers. They tugged low bomb-carts on long hand-ropes. He knew, -subconsciously, that they were going to reinforce the great trench-line -that stretched east and west from Martinpuich to Lesboeufs. Further -afield other bands of grey midgets, scarcely visible, were rushing -forward. Everywhere from the rim of battle-pressure grey figures were -filtering in ragged streams down towards the lower ground. A long way -off, on that rim, his glasses revealed a nodal point of confusion. He -focussed on it. There were tiny grey figures grouped, in quick movement -to and fro. Little smoke-dots were all round them. Then the confusion -cleared. He saw darker figures, running forward, the twinkle of sun on -a distant bayonet. For a moment he held them under view anxiously. Then -with an impatient movement he swept his glasses round. Not there was -the target that he sought. - -Suddenly he arrested his sweep. To his left, much closer to him than -he had been looking, a field battery topped a little rise, retiring at -full gallop among a welter of shell-smoke. It passed down below his -vision. His glasses remained steadily focussed on the rise over which -it had come, fascinated by the abnormality, expectant of the cause. - -It appeared. Slightly to the right of the course of the retreating -battery, something emerged over the crest--something slow, ponderous, -shapeless--drawing itself up. The silhouette of a gun projecting from -its flank barred the sky. Swiftly he replaced his glasses by the -range-finder. As he twisted the thumbscrews that brought the inverted -vision into juxtaposition with the normal, he saw a group of grey -soldiers surround the monster, hurl little puffs of smoke at it. He saw -the gun slue, spit, saw soldiers who waved white rags tripping over -those already fallen. The double visions met, he read the range. The -thing drew itself up, turned slightly, creeping on its belly, snout -in the air, like an uncouth saurian from the prehistoric slime. It -was moving more quickly than he at first realised. In another instant -he had taken the angle to the aiming post, plotted another, and was -shouting orders to the telephonist. - -"All guns 28·3 degrees left! Right half-section No. 1 gun 980 metres, -No. 2 gun 960 metres! With percussion! one round! Fire!" - -Through the range-finder he saw the burst of the two shells at the same -moment that the detonations of the guns came to his ears. One fell -full in the midst of the group of grey soldiery, whelmed them in black -smoke. The other burst beyond. The thing paused not nor hurried. At an -even pace it drew its low bulk along, dipped now for the descent. - -"Right half-section 970 metres! Left half-section 960 metres! With -percussion! Twenty rounds battery fire! Fire!" - -Spout upon spout of black smoke heralded the rapid explosions of -the guns. The monster was blotted out. Feeling like one engaged in a -struggle with a creature born not in our time and space, of another -world, von Waldhofer prayed for a direct hit. The smoke cleared. He -looked for what should be its ripped and stationary bulk. It was not -there. Only the grey bodies of the dead lay under the drifting fumes. -The thing had passed onward, dipped into the hollow, out of sight. - -He was suddenly aware that the enemy shell-fire, always heavy, had -increased in intensity. The smoke-spouts shot up more numerously, -grouped themselves more densely. Gradually they extended to new areas, -abandoned those already covered. He realised in a flash that the -monster was moving behind its special barrage, aeroplane directed from -above. He shouted fresh orders, altering the range. Blindly he hurled -his shells into the hollow behind the screen of smoke. - -If only he had direct observation! He shouted to the telephonist. - -"Ask if communication has been made with Leutnant Eberstein?" - -The reply came: "Nothing has been heard of Leutnant Eberstein. Six men -have just been killed in the battery." - -Von Waldhofer's exclamation expressed annoyance rather than grief -at the loss of his subordinate. He turned again to look through the -observation slit. There was a blinding crash---- - -When he came to, he found himself gazing at the blue sky. The deep -breath he drew half-choked him with the fumes of burnt explosive. -Shaking in every limb he struggled to his feet. Before him lay his two -orderlies, dead. The dug-out was wrecked and roofless. The telephone -instrument was strewn in fragments on the floor. He himself was -unwounded. - -He listened, with a sudden anxiety, for the detonations of his guns. -The general uproar had diminished not at all, but the familiar crashes -were wanting in the din. How long had he lain there? A wild fear seized -him. Scrambling out of the ruined dug-out he ran breathlessly towards -the battery. - -The enemy fire was as intense as ever. The air was filled with the -whine and scream of arriving shells and the heavy crashes of their -explosion. From somewhere behind came the rattle of rifles and -machine-guns and the dull thud of bombs. Grey-clad men in swarms -were running across the open ground athwart his path. He heard them -shouting, saw officers gesticulating, realised as in a dream that they -were running from the battle. But their fear touched him not. He was -enveloped in concern for his beloved battery. - -He arrived on the lip of the depression where it lay. In a surge of joy -he saw the four guns lying in the familiar places, saw them strangely -naked, their protective veils ripped and hurled aside, saw barely -sufficient crews standing at their posts, saw the position gashed with -shell-holes and littered with prone grey bodies, shattered limbers and -dead horses. Even as he looked a salvo of shrapnel burst with deafening -cracks above them, and white fleecy clouds floated over the battery. -On the near flank, in the position of command, stood Oberleutnant -Schwarz, rigid and precise as on the parade-ground. - -Von Waldhofer ran down the slope towards him. - -"Schwarz! Schwarz!" he called. - -The Oberleutnant advanced to meet him, and, looking calmly at his chief -as though his smoke-blackened face and torn clothing were in no way out -of the normal, saluted with perfect gravity. - -"What has been happening?" - -"We have been under heavy fire, Herr Hauptmann. All the wires are -cut in many places. The telephone dug-out has been blown in. We are -absolutely without communications. The battery has fired whenever there -was a chance of a target. Your orders have been obeyed. The battery has -stood its ground. We have only three rounds per gun left. I am waiting -now for an opportunity to fire." - -Listening to the cool report of his subordinate, von Waldhofer -recovered his soldierly poise. - -"Excellent. You have done well, Schwarz. And the casualties?" - -"I regret are heavy." He waved a gloved hand towards the bare dozen -standing by the guns. "All that are left." - -There was the loud, hissing, nerve-paralysing rush of a shell at -arrival. Simultaneously with the shattering crash that leaped from -the fountain of black smoke, Oberleutnant Schwarz put his hand to his -breast, performed a sharp half-turn and fell--dead. - -The reverberation yet rang when a second rush and crash followed -the first. A third and fourth shook the air almost too quickly for -distinction. The battery commander's brain worked with the timeless -speed of a great crisis or a dream. In an incomputable fraction of a -second he saw the heavy barrage which preceded the slowly crawling -monster, was conscious of an aeroplane overhead, saw his opportunity -and his plan. He ran towards the guns, shouting: "Lie down! Lie down!" -The crews obeyed. Standing among the strewn corpses the guns seemed -manned only by the dead. He flung himself prone on the flank of the -battery. - -Shell after shell swooped and burst on the stretch of ground in -front of him. Fed by the constantly spouting black geysers, an -ever-thickening dark mist drifted across, blotted out the distance. -Through it he saw the freshly thrown edges, brown and white, of -unfamiliar shell-craters pocking the undulating ground. The worn, -smooth greensward that he had known was being churned into loose clay -and chalk, mingled haphazard in their fall from the fierce upward -gush. The reiterated crash upon crash of near explosions all but -obliterated the far-flung din of the general battle, but through them -he caught waves of an appalling uproar welling out of Flers. Slowly, -riving, crashing, upspouting its black fountains of smoke and earth, -the barrage marched onward, passing across the battery front. Now? -Through the mist he saw the directing aeroplane sweep down in front of -him, absurdly low, rattling its machine-gun. A group of grey figures -sprang up beneath it, both arms high above the head, tumbling among -the shell-holes as they ran. A temptation flitted across his mind. One -round gun-fire and that aeroplane was blown to fragments. His lips -tightened. He did not move. The battery seemed abandoned by all its -dead. - -Age-long seconds passed as he watched, peering through the thinning -mist. Save for one little group of hasty, self-obliterating men, his -immediate front was a deserted waste of churned earth, sloping gently -upwards away from him. Once, over the low near skyline seen from his -prone position, he thought he saw the spurt of a bomb. But he could -not be sure. And a bomb did not necessarily betoken the presence of -the--Thing. Yes! What was that? - -Something was lifting itself, slowly and with jerks, beyond that near -skyline. Ponderously, with the efforts of a limbless living thing, it -drew its bulk up, seemed to stop--nosing the air with its blind snout. -Now? Not yet! He had only one chance--certainty. The monster moved on -again, downward now, lurching and wallowing among the shell-holes like -a ship in a heavy sea. He saw the gun swinging in the side-turret as -it rolled, the bright-splashed colouring of its flank. It was passing -diagonally across his front. It must climb to escape. _Now!_ - -He sprang to his feet, shouting with all his lungs. - -"To the guns!" The crews leaped up, resuscitated. "Point blank! At the -devil! With percussion! All guns! Fire!" - -But quick as he and his men had been, the monster was quicker. At -his first movement, with a mighty jerk it had slued itself nose-on -to the battery. Ere a hand could clutch a firing lever, a storm of -small violently exploding shells burst right in among the guns, a -hail of whip-cracking machine-gun bullets smote on men and metal. Von -Waldhofer looked towards the monster lurching heavily towards him, -keyed to a frenzy of suspense. To his horror he heard--not four--but -one detonation. The Thing dipped. He saw the shell burst--_over_! He -glanced towards the guns in speechless agony. The last gunner was in -the act of falling lifeless across the trail. - -High-nosed, seeming to smell its enemies rather than see them, like -an uncouth blind monster of the rudimentary past, the Thing crept on, -its speed as surprising as a reptile's. Viciously, with unallayed -suspicions, it spat its missiles at the dead battery. Von Waldhofer -stood alone, erect, praying that one might strike him. - -Suddenly its fire ceased. He heard the loud clatter of its machinery as -it approached, saw the rolling bands on which it moved. He felt that it -was coming to mark its triumph over his beloved guns, felt its disdain -for him their helpless master. An insane hatred for it gushed up in -him, swept away his conscious self. He whipped out his pistol, ran like -a madman towards it. He fired again and again, desperately seeking the -eye, the brain, like a hunter at bay with a crocodile. But eyeless, -featureless, the great snout slanted upwards above him, impenetrable -steel plates, on which his bullets flattened. - -Blindly the Thing rolled on, ponderous, invulnerable. It bulked huge -above him. He heard a shriek. It was his own. - -In the bright sunshine of a September morning the strange new monsters -crawled over that bare countryside racked with noise and tortured with -the leaping, eddying smoke of countless explosions. Behind them crowds -of khaki-clad men, hatted with inverted bowls like Samurai, followed -cheering and laughing like boys behind a circus-car. They waved -newspaper posters, obtained Heaven knows whence, that proclaimed in fat -bold type: "Great British Victory!" - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 3: 6.45 German Summer Time, 5.45 English Summer Time, 4.45 -Greenwich Time. The Summer Time was used in all the Armies.] - -[Footnote 4: The well-known 4·2" gun.] - -[Footnote 5: Known to the British Army as High Wood and Devil's Wood -respectively.] - -[Footnote 6: Telephone and Command Dug-out.] - -[Footnote 7: 6 a.m. English summer time.] - -[Footnote 8: German Heavy Artillery is organised in "Bataillons" of -four batteries.] - -[Footnote 9: The Germans had apparently heard rumours of the coming of -the "Tanks." It was asserted in the Army on the 16th September, that a -motor-cyclist carrying a definite warning had been killed by one of our -shells in the early morning of the 15th, on his way from H.Q. to the -front line.] - -[Footnote 10: Panzerkraftwagen, lit. "armoured power wagons," was and -is the official German designation of the "Tanks." The word is also -applied to armoured cars.] - - - - -NACH VERDUN! - - -In the long luxuriously furnished saloon car of the special train an -officer clad in the field-service uniform of a South-Eastern Power -sat in conversation with a colonel of the German General Staff. The -deference shown to him made it immediately obvious that he was a -distinguished personage representing a neutral whose friendliness was -important. His dark, clever eyes rested thoughtfully upon the groups -of officers with whom the car was overcrowded. All round was a buzz of -talk, of suppressed excitement. The air was thick with cigar smoke. - -"_Ja, Excellenz_," said the German colonel, podgy little fingers -drumming the table between them. "The secret is out. You have rightly -guessed our objective." His eyes were those of a rather clumsy and not -too scrupulous diplomat. His smile was deliberate flattery. "Allow -me to congratulate you upon your good fortune. You will see the -machinery of our _Kriegswirtschaftlichkeit_,"[11] he throated the word -impressively, "at the moment when it works at its highest power to -shape for Germany her final victory." - -The distinguished neutral smiled also, perfectly courteous. He spoke -with a faint Austrian accent. - -"I can understand your desire for the final," he underlined the word -ever so lightly, "victory, Herr Oberst." - -The German stared at him, suspicious of the nimbler brain. - -"Who would not desire it, Excellenz? This awful slaughter," he waved a -deprecating hand. "It is terrible that our adversaries do not recognise -they are already beaten." - -The neutral nodded. - -"Bar-le-Duc and the Upper Marne, I suppose--Paris!" - -The German colonel's eyes went dead. - -"Excellenz, I believe the supreme command reserves to itself the honour -of enlightening you on its plans." - -The conversation languished. The train rolled on, heavily comfortable. -The staff officers talked earnestly among themselves, the word -"Majestät" oft repeated. Orderlies, garbed as soldiers but obviously -royal _Kammerdiener_, stole noiselessly in and out of the car, went -frequently into the car beyond. On those occasions the distinguished -neutral had a glimpse of a world-familiar figure, upturned moustaches -on a tired face, a uniform of grey hung with many decorations. - -The train rolled into a station, stopped. The blare of a military -band started on the precise instant of its arrival. The platform was -thronged with officers, bright with the red of the General Staff. - -The distinguished neutral took little interest in the ceremony outside. -He busied himself with collecting the small articles of his kit. -Through the large windows he glimpsed the salutes of the rigidly-erect -officers. Above the noise of the band he heard the repeated "_Hoch! -Hoch! Hoch!_" of soldiers who cheered as they drilled, exactly -synchronous. - -He stepped on to the platform, followed by the Colonel appointed to be -his conductor. "Majestät" had already departed. Officers were thronging -to the exit, laughing and talking, much excited, revealing, despite -the grey and red of the staff uniform, the essential childishness of -the crowd-mind. "_Nach Verdun!_" said one of them, very close to the -distinguished neutral, nudging another in the ribs. "_Nach Verdun!_" -He repeated the just given watchword of victory as a schoolboy repeats -the latest smart expression. The officers around him laughed. The crowd -buzzed with high spirits. - -Outside the station the roadway was choked with waiting motor-cars, -lined with soldiers readjusting their helmets after tumultuous -"_Hochs!_" Some cars--those containing the highest personages--had -already departed. One after the other those remaining were filled, -swerved out and sped away. The distinguished neutral and his companion -found a vehicle reserved for them. The colonel led him to it with an -air that suggested: "See how the smallest details are thought out!" -They, too, sped away through the walls of infantry. - -Behind the soldiers were a few listless French inhabitants; from the -windows of that French town hung German flags, but no French faces -looked out. The shops were open but their owners stood not at the -doors. The neutral noted these things. The complete apathy of the -population was in contrast to stories his companion had related in -the train. In many of the side-streets long convoys of ammunition -and ration wagons were halted to allow them passage. On one of those -foremost wagons was scrawled in big chalk letters: "Nach Verdun!" - -"_Nach Verdun!_" that was the Leitmotiv underlying all the intense -military activity that filled the town and, as they shot out beyond -the houses, the countryside also. Every road was choked with columns -of marching infantry, with endless trains of wagons, of limbers, of -ambulances. Even cavalry was in evidence, riding with tall lances -and saddle-hung rifles on wretched-looking horses. "_Nach Verdun!_" -The German colonel, though he warily gave no information, could talk -of nothing else. Under that grey February sky pulsed and boomed the -distant detonations of artillery. The neutral listened to it with a -professional ear, was puzzled. It was persistent enough, but it was -certainly not the prolonged roar of a preparatory bombardment. - -The car swung into the drive of a park. A tunnel of winter-stripped -trees, brown above, green streaking the bark, and then a large château -drew itself across the vista. Thither the other cars had preceded -them. They stood now ranked in a mass. There was a throng of officers -round the great doors, the buzz awakened by the recent passage of the -All-Highest. The neutral was shown to his room, the German colonel -volubly regretting that exigencies of space forced him to share it. - -Some hours later the neutral was ushered into a vast, lofty apartment -whose tapestried walls were almost completely rehung with the huge -maps pinned upon them. On easels stood other maps, strange diagrams in -curves and slants of red, green and black ink. On a large table was -a horizontal relief model of hills and woods, a river with tributary -streams, a splash of red in the valley, thin lines of red converging -upon it, passing through, opening out again. On all these maps, on the -splash of red in the relief model, the name "Verdun" was repeated again -and again. - -All these things the neutral officer noticed with the corner of his -eye--the large writing-tables behind which sat officers of high rank, -other officers grouped in a corner. His direct gaze was held by the -figure he saluted. Spare, of medium height, in the grey field-service -uniform of a general, gold cord looping across his right breast, a star -upon the left above the Iron Cross, gilt epaulettes, gilt leaves upon -the red gorgets of his collar, the would-be conqueror of the world -stood stiffly erect, graciously acknowledged his salute. The brushed-up -moustache was still dark, though the short hair on the head was grey, -almost white. The face was deeply furrowed with endless anxieties, -but the blue eyes--pouched though were their under lids--gleamed with -excitement. He spoke in a jerky but distinct manner that betrayed a -temperament of long ill-controlled impulses. - -"_Guten Abend, Herr General!_ Welcome to Germany's greatest hour! You -shall see our sun mount triumphantly to its zenith, breaking through -the dark clouds of foes who cluster over against us in vain!" The tone -was that of a rhetoric practised until it has become a habit. The right -hand gesticulated with quick motions, the left arm was conspicuously -still. "General!" he turned to one of the officers sitting at the -tables, "be so good as to explain everything to our friend here." - -It was to be clearly understood that the All-Highest was flatteringly -gracious. - -The neutral officer bowed, expressed his thanks courteously, ventured a -request: "That I may be allowed to admire your War-Machine in all its -work, Majestät--go where I will." - -"By all means, General. We have nothing to hide. You will find much -to interest you, much to relate to our well-wishers in your country. -General! see that a pass is given to our friend that will give him the -fullest freedom." The All-Highest answered the neutral's salute in a -manner that terminated the conversation. - -Seated at the huge, carved writing-table with the officer to whom he -had been addressed, the neutral found himself looking at a pair of keen -grey eyes that peered through pince-nez under bushy white eyebrows. The -German spread out maps, indicated positions. He drew notice to the fact -that all roads squeezed through a bottle-neck over the river at Verdun, -spread out in a fan on the east bank to a long line of positions that -climbed from the river over the Heights of the Meuse and fell into the -plain of the Woevre across which they bent southward. - -"_Die Sache ist äusserst einfach!_"[12] he said with the air of a -man explaining a chess-problem. "The French have three divisions of -Territorials in front of us to hold the entire sector. That force is -not strong enough to defend it and certainly too weak to have kept the -trench-systems in good repair. In fact we know that they have been -allowed to fall into ruin.[13] We have fifteen divisions in front -line, fifteen divisions in reserve. We do not intend to fling those -divisions away. No. Step by step our artillery will blast a passage -for them--see, here are our artillery positions," he showed concentric -lines one within the other on the map, round the doomed sector. "It -is the greatest artillery concentration the world has ever seen. Even -our concentration on the Donajetz last year is surpassed. We shall -obliterate the positions in front of us--other batteries will drench -the only avenues of supplies with shells, they must all go through the -town--our infantry will merely march into the devastated position, wait -for the clearance of the next step. I may tell you that the French -have only one small branch railway line which is safe from our fire. -We have built fourteen new lines, besides those already existing. In -the great problem of supply we have an overwhelming superiority. We -believe we have the advantage of surprise. Certainly the French have no -concentration within easy reach. In four days we shall be in Verdun. -The Western Front will have been broken." - -"In four days?" The neutral officer looked at the map as a -chess-player looks at the board. "And--if I might ask the -question--supposing you do not take Verdun in four days? There is said -to be an enormous Allied force somewhere in France." - -"We have yet another day," said the German a little wearily, as though -resenting the effort to explain the unnecessary. "We have five clear -days before any reinforcements can be brought up against us--all the -chances have been calculated, you see. If we are not in Verdun by -the evening of the fifth day--well, the battle will continue. But, I -repeat, we shall be in Verdun within four days. The thing is certain!" - -"Of course it is, General," said another voice above their heads. Both -officers looked up, rose to their feet. "In four days we shall be in -Verdun. In a fortnight--Paris!" - -The speaker was a youngish man, with a long nose in a long face, -somewhat bald upon the brow, a clipped moustache above a long thin -mouth. There was something in his manner which suggested not too -reputable finance doubled with Monte Carlo and the _coulisses_. -He repeated, smacking his hand familiarly upon the back of the -distinguished neutral: "In a fortnight--Paris!" He named the famous -city with a smack of the lips. - -"Undoubtedly, Highness," said the German general, his professional -manner replaced by the obsequiousness of the courtier. "The army led by -Your Highness cannot fail to conquer." - -"Verdun--Paris! This time it will not fail, General." He walked across -the room, smacking a riding-switch on his tall, patent-leather hussar -boots, and chanting: "_Nach Verdun! Nach Verdun--Paris!_"[14] - - * * * * * - -The morning of the 21st February, 1916, opened damp and bleak. Over -the heavy clay fields of the Woevre plain the mist hung persistently, -enclosing all vision in a few hundred yards. Through the obscurity the -poplars lining the roads loomed up like ghosts, dripping moisture from -each bare twig. In the copses and the larger stretch of woodland known -as the Forêt de Spincourt the conglobulated mist fell like rain. From -either of the high knolls known as the Twins of Ornes, just south-west -of the Forêt de Spincourt, the wooded slopes of the Heights of the -Meuse--Merbebois and the Bois de Wavrille--rose dark and indefinite, -discernible only when a little puff of the raw east wind, coming up the -valley of the Orne, broke a rift in the fog. - -The neutral and the German Oberst who was his inseparable companion -stood on the more southerly of the twin heights. About them was a group -of artillery officers. In their immediate front was the deep dug-out, -sod-roofed, where telephonists sat and waited. It was an artillery -observation post. The light was yet dim though the wet fog was white. -It had been quite dark when the two spectators had made their way over -roads deep in mud to this position of vantage. - -The journey had been long, for their car had had to squeeze, lurching -and slithering, past endless columns of infantry plodding over the -atrocious roads. In the darkness those thousands of men had been -scarcely more visible than phantoms who sang continuously as they -marched, chorusing to the tune set by picked singers at the head of -each company. Those who were merely the chorus broke off frequently -to shout witticisms at the labouring motor-car. In high spirits, they -wagered that they would be the first, after all, to arrive in Verdun. - -On the hill-top of the Twin of Ornes, where the officers clustered, was -tense expectation. The fog did not lift. Only at rare intervals was -there a faint glimpse of the wooded heights towards which all gazed -with thrilling foreknowledge. As yet all was a quiet broken only by -an occasional isolated detonation that rolled heavily down the Orne -valley. It echoed in a dull repercussion from the mist-filled woods -upon the great scarp that was the far-flung rampart of the doomed -city. An officer looked at his watch. The example was infectious. The -seconds, the minutes passed slowly. It was like waiting for the curtain -to go up. The watches marked 8.13 (German time)--8.14--8.15! - -There was one simultaneous vast roar that leaped from an arc stretching -from far in the north-west and passing round behind them to the -south. It did not cease. Minute after minute it continued, unabated, -prolonged. In the first sudden shock it appeared one colossal bellow -of sound, evenly maintained. But as the ear became accustomed to it, -instinctively analysed it, it was possible to distinguish spasms of -even fiercer sound than the general welter: the ponderous concussion of -especially heavy ordnance; the frenzied hammering of the quickfiring -field-guns. The sense of hearing was overwrought, but the view changed -not. The mist still hung over the landscape, was a curtain before the -straining eye. Only down below them to the right a howitzer battery, -adventurously pushed forward, rent the fog with stabs of orange-red -flame. - -It seemed, in the overpowering blast of the German guns, that the -French artillery was making no general reply. From time to time a shell -came whining over towards them, finished in an ugly rush and a crash -somewhere upon the knoll. They scarcely noticed these occasional djinns -of death, so ineffective were they by contrast to the whirlwind of -destruction that swept the other way. The habituated ear could now pick -out the rumbling tramcar-like progress of the heavy shells overhead, -the fierce rushing drone of the missiles from lighter guns, mingling -interwoven with the uninterrupted sheet of sound. - -What was happening over there among the dank, wooded hills? Nothing -could be seen, but the experienced imagination sketched, conscious that -it fell below the reality, fearful havoc distant in the fog. Trees -suddenly blasted, toppling; parapets leaping into the air--horrors -among the spout of earth that had been a sheltered dug-out; trenches -whose walls fell in; men who cowered, fear-paralysed, in a shambles; -overhead a ceaseless cracking that rained down death; shock upon shock; -chaos--such flitted through the minds of those who strained their eyes -at the fog. An artillery observation officer turned to the neutral. - -"Five hours of this, Excellenz," he said with a smile, "and then, the -first step to Verdun!" - -The Oberst expatiated on the wonderful German system for supplying all -these batteries indefinitely at this intensity of fire. "Who can resist -us?" was the implied corollary to his dissertation. The neutral was -duly impressed, his dark clever eyes serious. - -The bombardment continued, became monotonous. The fog thinned somewhat -but permitted no clear vision. The batteries were firing by the map, -according to a prearranged programme. The Oberst suggested to his -distinguished guest that further stay was useless. - -"I would like to see your guns at work, Herr Oberst," said the -neutral, and the colonel saw himself forced to put aside his hopes of -returning to Corps Headquarters for _Mittagessen_. He speculated on the -Divisional Messes in their vicinity as he replied: - -"By all means, Excellenz." - -They scrambled down the rough path of the knoll, through a thin growth -of birch, passed into the denser mist below. - -They found themselves suddenly among long ranks of resting infantry -squatting and lying in close proximity to their piled arms. The -feld-grau uniforms merged, were lost in the fog, but there was an -indefinable suggestion of the presence of many thousands. The Oberst -and his guest might walk where they would, the shadowy grey forms -still loomed up out of the mist. All were cheerful and confident. The -officers in little groups smiling as they conversed, bent over a map. -The men grinning. They were waiting for the guns to level the path for -their "promenade." - -At last the ranks of infantry ceased. They came upon a field battery -that was firing furiously. The guns were in the open, their upturned -caissons--lid upright to form a shield, exposing the pigeon-holed bases -of the cartridges--close against the left wheel. Grouped behind each -were the busy gunners, in rapid movement of arms and torso, crouching, -labouring with swift concentrated intensity as they passed the long, -gleaming projectile from hand to hand, thrust it into the breech, -closed and fired. Behind them was a heap of brass cartridge-cases, the -flat compartmented baskets that had held three rounds. The watching -officers, helmeted, in long closely-buttoned coats, stood behind their -sections. The battery hurled out its stream of death in absolute -immunity. No enemy shell came to seek it. The fog veiled its target. - -Beyond that battery was another, in the open like the first, almost -wheel to wheel with it. And beyond that, another and yet others, an -endless chain of them, all scorning concealment, all firing as fast as -sweating, straining men could load and pull the lever. From behind came -the prolonged, heavy, linked detonations of yet other batteries of more -weighty metal. Overhead the rumble and rush of hurrying shells was as -the sound of heavy traffic. - -The neutral and his guide turned eastwards towards the zone of the -great howitzers. Once more they were entangled in waiting masses -of grey-clad infantry. The mist had thinned, permitted quite long -vistas. Everywhere there was infantry, battalion upon battalion, -regiment on regiment, brigade after brigade. The time had passed--by -the neutral, at least, almost unnoticed, so much was there for his -brain to register--it was now almost noon. The infantry was standing -to its ranks, forming into column of route, marching forward with -songs and shouts, their spiked helmets decorated with sprigs of fir. -"_Vorwärts!_" came the sharp, barking commands of the officers. "_Nach -Verdun!_" shouted the excited men, drunk with the prospect of superbly -easy victory. - -And ever the indefatigable batteries hammered and crashed, spewing -forth death in volumes that the men they served might live. From behind -every hedge, every hillock; in long lines across the open--so many that -they could afford to neglect the enemy's reply; their tongues of flame -shot out, flickered indefinitely repeated into the distance. Their -infinitely reiterated detonations smote splittingly upon the ear, were -gathered into one overpowering roar. - -The dark mass of the Forêt de Spincourt was riven by red flame that -lit and was gone momentarily in every part of its recesses. As the two -officers approached it, they saw a faint film of smoke hanging over -the tree-tops, saw the quick flashes gleaming through the undergrowth -of the verge. They entered its obscurity. The air choked one with -the fumes of burnt explosive, beat against the face in gusts with -the disturbance of the multiplied discharges. The wood was a nest of -howitzer batteries. On platforms of concrete and timber the monsters -squatted, bowed their head to receive yet another shell, raised it -again with slow, determined movement, the great round jaws gaping -upward to the sky, belched with a sudden eructation of vivid flame, -a tremendous shock of which the stunning noise was only part. The -spectator behind the gun, looking upward, saw a black object speeding -high into the air, rapidly diminishing, the while a rain of twigs -pattered down upon his face. As the barrel was lowered again, the -breech opened, slow curling tongues of flame licked round the muzzle. -Behind each weapon were great stacks of shells. Hurrying men, two at a -time, a tray supported on two short poles between them, carried more -food to the iron monster, fed its fuming breech for yet another roar. - -Further within the wood were still greater monsters, so huge that -their aliment was trundled to them on light rails, swung into their -maw by overhanging cranes. The earth shook, the trees rocked, with the -vehemence of their discharge. - -"Frau Bertha has a most persuasive voice, _nicht wahr_?" said the -Oberst to his guest. The neutral agreed as courteously as was possible -in this chaos of bludgeoning noise. His dark eyes rested a little -contemptuously on the dapper, somewhat podgy colonel whose soul, -even in this crisis of nations, was still essentially the soul of a -commercial traveller. The order to Krupp's was not yet given. - -It was one o'clock--noon to the anxious French general far over -there in the terrible distance. As suddenly as it had commenced, the -vast bombardment ceased. There was an uncanny silence. All knew its -significance. The German infantry was advancing to the assault. With -what resistance would it be met? Every ear was at strain--machine-guns? -There was no sound. Suddenly the bombardment opened again, as violent -as before. The German guns were putting a screen of death behind the -doomed positions, barring off all help. Far away huge shells were -crashing down from a curve that was four miles high at its zenith, -making an inferno of a once quiet cathedral town, wrecking the bridges -across a flooded river, blocking every avenue of supply to the -defenders agonising on the plateau. - -That night in the Army Headquarters was a night of jubilation. Courtier -soldiers--who none the less laboured into the small hours at the -intricate calculations and orders that would improve the victory on -the morrow--glanced at a youngish, very exalted personage and murmured -platitudes about the pardonable intoxication of success. An even -more exalted personage strode from general to general in the great -tapestried, map-hung apartment and gave instructions that were received -as the inspiration of genius and then merged, lost sight of, nullified -in the mass of orders that emanated from those fiercely toiling brains. - -The distinguished guest sat at the table with the keen-eyed, -white-browed general, had everything patiently explained to him. - -"All has gone exactly according to schedule," said the German. "The -first line positions are ours. There has been a counter-attack in the -Bois de Caures, but we have stemmed it. Elsewhere there has been no -serious opposition. The first day has been a brilliant success. We -have pierced the line where we intended to pierce it. If the French -maintain their flank positions their disaster is certain. The battle -will be developed to-morrow. We shall drive right through to the -Ornes-Louvemont road. The French defence is dead, was annihilated by -our bombardment. To-morrow disintegration will set in and our progress -will be rapid. On the third day we shall take Fort Douaumont--the key -to Verdun." - -"And on the fourth day?" queried the neutral, his dark eyes gazing at -the map in front of him. - -"We shall be in Verdun!" said the German. - -"_Verdun! Verdun! Nach Verdun--Paris!_" chanted an unsteady voice -across the room, finished in a suspicious resemblance to a hiccup. -There was a moment of tense, awkward silence in the great apartment, -and then a buzz of low voices earnestly discussing technicalities. - - * * * * * - -Day followed day, surcharged with fateful issues. Men who flung -themselves down, utterly wearied, to snatch a brief sleep, woke -from it with an oppression of the breast, a tremor of the nerves. -Their fiercely excited brains begrudged an instant's unconsciousness -where every minute was a vehicle of destiny, once ahead never to be -overtaken. Strenuously, night and day, laboured the Staffs in the Army -Headquarters, in the Corps, Divisions, Artillery Groups--desperately, -for after the second day they were behind their time-table. On that -second day the French defence they had fondly thought annihilated woke -to sternly resisting life. There had been terrific fighting on the -whole front from Brabant to Ornes. Once more a frightful bombardment -had opened with the dawn. Once more the German infantry had advanced -in masses. They found the trenches in front of them weakly held, had -occupied them. But _en route_ a storm of shells had rained down on the -swarming columns, had strewn the ground with dead and dying. Further -advance was barred by sheets of rifle-fire, torrents of machine-gun -bullets. There were ugly rumours as to losses. The day's objective had -not been reached. Counter-attacks had flung the grey infantry out of -positions already conquered. - -During the black night of the 22nd-23rd, while the gun-teams of the -German batteries strained and stumbled forward over a shell-torn ground -to new positions, the French left flank had fallen back from Brabant. -The German guns hurled an avalanche of projectiles blindly upon the -new lines of defence, more or less at hazard since no longer did they -have them accurately marked upon the map. Once more the grey masses -swept forward, once more the hail of shells beat them down. The end -of that day saw the centre pushed in with wild confusion, but the -French resistance still alive, determined to perish rather than break. -Once more the objective had not been attained. Douaumont was not even -menaced. The time-table was hopelessly out. That night the French fell -back on both flanks, withdrew from Ornes. - -The fourth day dawned--the appointed day for final victory--and still -the struggle continued, fiercer than ever. Slowly, slowly, the German -infantry pressed forward, leaving behind them a sea of helpless -bodies--a grey carpet as perceived from a distance. The artillery fire -swelled and mounted in paroxysms of incredible violence, the German -guns hammering in savage persistence, the French batteries lurking -for their target, overwhelming it in a deluge. On and on pressed the -grey infantry, thrust dangerously as night fell straight at the heart, -towards Fort Douaumont. A fierce conflict--body to body, rifles that -flashed in the face of the victim, bayonets perforce shortened for -the thrust, griping fingers clutching at the throat as men wrestled -and swayed--raved and roared in an indescribable tumult upon the -Ornes-Louvemont road. The defenders had made a supreme rally. The -Germans fought like men who grasp at victory, maddened that it is -withheld. The French fought like heroes, desperately outnumbered, -who know their duty is to die. When night fell the defence was still -intact, but the French had withdrawn to their last line, covering -Douaumont. - -"We have still one more day," said the German general to the -distinguished neutral that night in the great map-hung apartment. "We -allowed that margin of time. To-morrow will see our greatest effort, -Douaumont in our hands, Verdun untenable." The dark eyes of the neutral -read a certain nervousness in the German's face, despite the confident -tone. - -"It has proved rather more difficult than you expected?" - -"The French field-guns have been terrible--terrible," replied the -German. "Without them----" He waved an expressive hand. "But to-morrow -we shall deliver the _coup de grâce_. We have not boasted idly, -Excellenz." His eyes looked searchingly through their pince-nez on the -calmly interested face of the neutral. "When Germany threatens she -performs." - -On the morning of the 25th the German guns roared over white fields -of snow, through veils of the softly falling flakes that fluttered -inexhaustibly from the leaden sky. Their thunder swelled louder and -ever louder as the batteries which had changed position, consequently -upon the French withdrawal during the night, got to work, searching -for their target, more or less accurately finding it despite the -difficulty of observation. Not a minute was to be lost. The anxious -German staff knew that the reinforcements of their foes must be -hurrying--hurrying. Some perhaps had already arrived. If night fell -without definite victory, the morrow would surely see fresh masses -against them, reinvigorating the defence. Victory to-day--complete -victory--Douaumont captured, the pursuit pressed into the streets of -Verdun--meant victory indeed. Mighty therefore was the effort. By noon -every German battery was firing at its maximum. Under the leaden sky, -over the white ground, in the still cold of a bitter frost, their -thunder swelled and crashed, roaring in a never-ending frenzy. Eighteen -German divisions were massed to break down all opposition. Already they -had attacked--again and again. Again and again, the rapid detonations -of the French guns had leaped into the din, smiting desperately, -frantically, to stay them. Over there, in the mist-hung gullies of the -plateau, on its bare open spaces between the woods, the snow had ceased -to be white--save where it fell freshly upon the huddled bodies of the -fallen. - -In the afternoon the weather cleared somewhat. More distant views -were possible. On the higher of the Twins of Ornes, the knolls just -south-west of the Forêt de Spincourt, stood the figure who more than -any other individual would have to dare the answer for all the agony -rolled out there before him, for all the agony that no eye could -measure, spread over continents, crying to strange stars. Spiked -helmet on his head, long grey cavalry-cloak wrapped about him, his -field-glasses held to his eyes by the right hand only, he gazed upon -the now distant conflict. At his side stood a younger figure, his face -masked also by binoculars. Behind them was a group of dignitaries, -generals of high position, the distinguished neutral and the Oberst who -never quitted him. All gazed to the wooded scarp of the Heights of the -Meuse, their glasses pointing south-south-west. - -The great masses of woodland rose dark from the snow of the plain a -long stretch of undulating, climbing tree-tops. Beyond them the bare -bulk of the plateau humped itself yet higher, dirty grey against the -sky. It rose to a culminating knoll--Douaumont! All that bare plateau -was whelmed in a drifting reek, but the highest point was like a -volcano in eruption. Great founts of smoke shot up from it incessantly, -spread in the air in heavy plumes that overhung. It was the objective -of the 3rd Corps (Brandenburgers), attacking under the eye of the -Kaiser so particularly their chief. Their orders were that Douaumont -was to be taken at all costs. On the Twin of Ornes operators from Army -Headquarters had taken over the telephone dug-out. Behind them the line -was clear to Berlin--waiting--waiting for the triumphant announcement -that should thrill the world. - -Somewhat impatiently the neutral scanned the lofty distances where the -great drama was being enacted. Innumerable puffs of bursting shells -indicated the conflict but gave no hint of its varying fortunes. -The professional instinct was strong within him, the report to his -Government an ideal to which it strove. To perfect that report he -must see the fight at closer quarters, must describe the effects of -the French fire as a complement to the already written minute on the -German batteries. His keen eye picked out a position of vantage on the -Heights. Then he waited for an opportunity, alert for the moment when -the eye of majesty should rest itself from the distant view, should -fall upon him. The opportunity occurred. The glance of the All-Highest -swept over him, preoccupied. The neutral stepped forward, saluted, -indicated the far-off point. - -"_Ich bitte um Erlaubnis, Majestät_,"[15] he said. - -A frowning glance rested upon him for an instant, intolerant of aught -save the mighty contest whose issue was the fate of nations. - -"_Gestattet_,"[16] was the curt, indifferent reply. - -The German Oberst, standing behind the neutral, changed colour. He had -no option but to accompany this damnable foreigner in his mad adventure -into unnecessary danger. He, too, saluted "Majestät," followed the -neutral to the spot where a number of orderlies stood at the heads of -saddled horses. They had been sent forward in case the dignitaries -should require them. - -In a few moments the two officers, followed by mounted attendants, were -slithering down the snowy side of the knoll, were cantering across the -valley towards Ornes. - -High above them towered the dark Bois de la Chaume as they threaded -the débris-covered street of the wrecked village. It was packed with -Brandenburger infantry waiting to advance. They followed the road -southward, at the foot of the hills, towards Bezonvaux. Everywhere the -infantry stood thick, waiting. The cannonade mounted to a frightful -intensity, appalling even the ears now habituated to it, bewildering -the senses, troubling the sight. French shells came whining, screaming, -rushing, to burst with loud crashes in the woodland rising on their -right hand, on the road and the fields through which it passed. Domes -of dark smoke leaped upward from the earth, preceding the stunning, -metallic detonation. White shrapnel puffs clustered thickly above the -trees. Bezonvaux was a ruin. They turned off from it to the right, -up a rough track that climbed into the woods. The snow on the track -had been trampled into a dirty slush. All about them lay bodies, grey -and blue; weapons pell-mell as they had fallen from a suddenly opened -grasp. Their horses shuddered, whinnied, jerked nervous ears, moved -disconcertingly sideways from red stains soaking deep into the snow. - -Just under the edge of the plateau the neutral stopped, dismounted, -threw his reins to an orderly. The Oberst followed his example. His -face was blotchy white, he trembled in every limb. - -"We shall see nothing, Excellenz--absolutely nothing," he asseverated -appealingly. - -"We can at least try," replied his guest. "Something is happening over -there." - -Above them, some distance ahead, was a tremendous uproar, a chaos of -violent thudding slams, splitting crashes, a faint troublous murmur of -human voices. Behind them, up the rough track, a column of infantry -was advancing, overtaking them. They ascended with a steady progress, -splashing through the slush; officers waving swords, shouting; rank -upon rank of tense faces that had lost their humanity in the tremulous -brute; glazed staring eyes under the spiked helmets; singing, singing -like drugged, doomed gladiators marching to the arena. They passed -upward. - -The neutral, to whom his conductor had nervelessly surrendered the -initiative, led the way. They left their horses behind them, struck off -at a tangent to the right, through the woods, climbing always. They -emerged upon the plateau, in a clearing. Across the open space, from -a whelm of smoke and noise in the distance, groups of grey men were -running swiftly towards them, shouting inarticulately. Along the edge -of the woods was a line of pickets. Their weapons rose to the shoulder. -Sternly, every fugitive but those wounded was driven again into the -fight. Those who hesitated, screaming under the menace of the rifle, -dropped shot. - -The neutral hurried along the verge of the wood, scanning every tall -tree carefully, expectantly. "Ah!" He had found what he sought. -Against the green bark of a lofty beech dangled a rope ladder. It was -an abandoned French artillery observation post. He scrambled up the -ladder, followed by the trembling, shivering Oberst. High up among the -topmost branches was a little platform. - -The neutral settled himself, adjusted his binoculars, pushed aside -the twigs. He looked out over an undulating terrain, dark with woods -that ceased raggedly in deep indentations short of a bare hog's back -that gathered itself into a hump. That bare ground was smothered in a -turmoil of smoke that fumed to the grey sky, far to right and left. -But through it, in chance rifts, his glasses revealed a dark mass -upon the highest point. A reek of white smoke drifted away from it as -from burning buildings, mingling with the darker clouds of incessant -explosions. He had a glimpse of a rounded cupola. It was Douaumont! - -The snow on the open space between the fort and the woods was grey. It -was moving with crawling life like the festering of a stagnant pool. -Over it burst occasional puffs of shrapnel. - -"Ah!" The cry was involuntary from both the watching men. From the -woods emerged masses of running tiny grey figures, running, running -towards the fort. The open space was covered with them. A moment of -tense expectation when the heart seemed to stop--and then, as by a -terrible magic, great fountains of dark smoke and darker objects leaped -up among those running figures, countless explosions. A canopy of -vicious little shrapnel bursts in thousands spread itself over them. -Under it men sprawled in great patches, seemed to be fighting the air -ere they tumbled and fell. A horrid screaming came faint through the -uproar. More masses rushed out, were beaten down. There was a running -to and fro of men bewildered--a headlong flight. - -The storm of fire did not cease. It rolled over the plateau towards the -woods, remorselessly following the fugitives. Louder and louder, nearer -and nearer, the crashes, the fountains, the puffs--the great mingled -reek of the inferno--rolled towards the two men in the observation post. - -The Oberst clutched the neutral's arm. - -"Excellenz!" he shouted stammeringly. "We must go. I insist. I have -superior authority--written authority--my discretion--I insist!" he -almost screamed. His hand groped for a scrap of paper which he waved. -"Arrest!" he cried like a maniac. "Arrest if you do not come!" - -The storm of French shells was a very near menace. The neutral -acquiesced with a shrug of his shoulders. Nimbly they descended the -ladder. - -On the ground they found themselves among a swarm of slightly wounded, -terror-stricken men. One of them, a tall, bearded Brandenburger, his -clothes torn to rags, was shrieking and laughing in a manner horrible -to hear. His comrades drew away from him as he clutched at them. He was -insane. - -"Only I am left!" he cried. "Only I! They are all dead--dead--out -there. They were meant to be dead. They were dead men before we -attacked--all dead men running on--I could see it in their faces--only -I was alive! And now they are still crawling--crawling--dead men!" -His tone emphasised the horror of his words, struck a chill. A sentry -lowered his rifle, irresolutely. - -The maniac turned, waved a hand to the westward. The sun, on the point -of setting, showed itself in a rift of the threatening snow clouds, -sank, a great ball of glowing fire, over the rim of the plateau. Its -last rays were lurid on the face of the madman, as he stood, arm -outstretched, his eyes flaming, his tangled beard falling upon his -rags, like some antique prophet of the wilderness. - -"Woe! woe!" he shrieked. "_Nach Verdun! Nach -Verdun--Verdunkelung!_"[17] He finished in a scream of maniac -laughter, glorying in the crazy assonance of the words. "_Nach -Verdun--Verdunkelung!_" - -The neutral and the Oberst hurried through the woods to their horses. - -A rapid ride with the German always in front, and once more they -ascended the Twin of Ornes. As they arrived at the summit they found -themselves among wildly cheering men. "_Douaumont! Douaumont is -taken!_" Far away to the south-south-west, rocket after rocket shot up -into the darkening sky. Already the great news had gone--electrical--to -Berlin. - -The crowd of dignitaries descended the steep path in the gloom to where -the motor-cars were ranked in waiting. Along the road passed streams of -wounded who could walk, phantoms half-distinguished in the dim light. -Joyous were the voices of the War-Lords. One, a familiar tone, chanted: -"_Nach Verdun! Nach Verdun--Paris!_"[18] - -Out of the darkness came a screamed reply, a burst of insane laughter. - -"_Nach Verdun--Verdunkelung! Nach Verdun--Verdunkelung!_" - -It was the voice of the crazed Brandenburger. There was a scuffle, the -sound of a man hurried away, resisting. - -All through that dark journey as the car bumped and lurched over the -atrocious roads, the words beat in a refrain through the mind of the -neutral. "_Nach Verdun--Verdunkelung!_" He wondered. Eclipse? Was it -the sun of Germany that set on the French position? The Oberst was -loquaciously cheerful. - -That night, in the great map-hung apartment, the War-Lords received -the news that their further advance was barred. - -Next morning a furious counter-attack surrounded a handful of defenders -in the fort for which they had paid so much. The French reinforcements -had arrived. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 11: War economy.] - -[Footnote 12: "The thing is absolutely simple!"] - -[Footnote 13: Vide Mr. John Buchan's _History of the War_, Vol. XIII.] - -[Footnote 14: "Nach" means "to, towards," and also "after."--"To -Verdun! _After_ Verdun--Paris!"] - -[Footnote 15: "I beg permission, Your Majesty."] - -[Footnote 16: "Granted."] - -[Footnote 17: "To Verdun! _After_ Verdun--Eclipse."] - -[Footnote 18: "To Verdun! After Verdun--Paris!"] - - - - -THE CHÂTELAINE OF LYSBOISÉE - -(AN IDYLL BETWEEN THE TRENCHES, 1914) - - (Note.--This story is founded upon an actual occurrence narrated by - Paul Grabein, "Im Auto durch Feindesland," Berlin, 1916.) - - -The sun set while a regiment of Zouaves was marching across the -plateau. The after-glow yet illumined the sky when its leading files -turned obliquely off to the right along a rough track that presently -dropped abruptly into a deep ravine, sculped by one of the streamlet -tributaries of the Oise. Bare for a little way below the lip, save -for some scattered juniper bushes stiffly perpendicular from the -close-cropped slope, the sides of the ravine were dark with a dense -growth of tree and thorn. The road plunged into it. - -Down and down went the road in a gloomy tunnel of arching boughs that -scarce left an interstice for the twilight sky. It reached the floor of -the little valley, followed it to the right in a more gentle descent. -On its left a brook fell swiftly through a plantation of silver birch -in a channel that brimmed to the long, rank, water-flattened grass and -anon plashed over boulders in a miniature cascade. Save for the steady -tramp of the marching troops and the occasional squawk of a frightened -jay, there was no sound in the valley. - -Mounted upon a magnificent black horse, the colonel rode at the head of -the column. Seen in profile, his face was remarkable--virile, powerful, -and intellectual. When it turned to full face it fascinated. Not the -steel-grey eyes looked for under those level brows, but a pair of full -brown orbs, romantic as those of an Arab, met the gaze. He raised his -hand as the column approached a pair of high ornamental iron gates, set -in a frame of lofty arched stone and surmounted by a carved escutcheon, -on the left side of the road. "Halt!" - -Behind him there was a clatter of accoutrements as the long column -broke its ranks, settled itself in seated groups, with piled arms, by -the roadside. In front, the advance-guard, receiving the order from -the connecting files, halted also. The colonel walked his horse to the -gates. The padlocked chain that had held them closed hung broken from -one of the wrought-iron scrolls. The gates had evidently been forced. -He pressed his horse's flank against one of them, slipped through the -opening, and set off at a trot down a long avenue of ancient poplars. -His capitaine-adjutant, cantering up from the leading company, followed -the wave of his hand. - -Beyond the clearing of lawn and Cupid-crowned fountain into which he -emerged, lay a long white stone mansion, picturesque but not remarkable -in its seventeenth-century architecture. Every window was shuttered. -Throwing the reins to his companion, he dismounted and, with the stiff -gait from long hours in the saddle, ascended the broad curving steps to -the main entrance. - -Only at his second summons on the loud, harshly clanging bell was there -any answering sign of life. One of the great doors opened slightly -until checked by a chain, and a woman's voice asked: "Who is it?" - -"French officers, madame. Is the _patronne_ at home?" - -"I cannot see you," said the voice, evading the question. - -The colonel placed himself so as to be visible through the narrow -aperture. "Attendez!" said the voice. The door closed again. - -A minute or two of waiting in the chill, misty air and once more the -door opened, this time fully. "Entrez, monsieur!" said the voice. - -He found himself in a large lofty hall, dimly illumined by the candle -held by a little bent old woman. "Par ici, monsieur!" she said. - -She led him through salon after salon. In the flickering light he could -only just discern that they were richly furnished. At last she stopped -and tapped at a closed door. - -He was admitted into an apartment of costly and tasteful comfort, lit -with warm soft radiance from a shaded pedestal lamp. Pine logs were -burning on the hearth of a high stone fireplace. To one side stood a -grand piano. A great dog, stretched before the hearth, growled surlily. -These were salient details he was scarcely conscious of noting. His -eyes were held by the woman who rose from an arm-chair by the fire. - -Tall, gowned simply in a long robe of soft pale green, the lamplight -shimmered on the waved masses of her auburn hair as she moved. Not -vulgarly beautiful--the mouth was large, though well-cut--an oval -ivory-white face looked into his. No longer very young--she was at -least thirty--her instantly felt charm came accentuated by a hint of -incomplete maturity. Those quiet eyes could still look at life with a -questioning scrutiny, receptive of the new experience. They met his -now and a personality leaped into them, communed with him ere yet a -word had been uttered. Outwardly, only, they were still strangers. He -noticed that she wore no jewellery as he bowed courteously, fez in hand. - -"Madame, I am the colonel of the --th Regiment of Zouaves. A necessity, -that must be disagreeable to you, forces me to ask your hospitality for -my officers and men." - -"For to-night only?" Her voice was singularly deep and rich. - -"Perhaps for several, madame." - -"You are many?" - -"Eleven hundred men and twenty officers." - -"A strong battalion!" - -"Three battalions, madame," he corrected gently. - -The expression of the eyes, which had never left his, changed slightly. -The wordless, languageless message they were exchanging with his own -was interrupted. "Ah," she said in a voice of sympathy. "You come from -the battle? From the Marne?" - -"Yes, madame. We were on the Ourcq. Since then, on the Aisne." - -Her face lit up. - -"But certainly! Who would refuse anything to the brave men who have -saved France! You will excuse the coolness of your reception, Monsieur -le colonel? We have had other guests--less welcome." The colonel -thought of the broken chain on the gate. "Marie!" This to the old woman -who stood by the door, shading the candle in her hand, incongruous -in this luxurious apartment. "Place the large dining-room at the -disposition of _messieurs les officiers_. The kitchen also." She turned -again to the colonel. "I can offer only ten bedrooms to your officers, -Monsieur le colonel, but doubtless they can arrange themselves. The -stables are large, there are three barns and a disused mill, and there -is a loft at the top of the house. I hope you will find room for all -your men. There is plenty of straw in the barns. They may use it -freely. Please consider the house entirely at your disposition." And -all this time the eyes were talking wordlessly. And his, although he -knew it not, were replying. - -"You are too kind, madame!" - -"It is a happy privilege, Monsieur le colonel!" - -His business was finished, yet he felt curiously unwilling to go, much -though awaited him to do. His apology seemed addressed as much to his -own hidden inner self as to her. - -"Mille remerciments, madame! You will excuse me if I withdraw? My men -are very tired. Once more, a thousand thanks, madame----?" - -She answered his unuttered question, a smile lighting up eyes and face. - -"--La comtesse de Beaupré et Lysboisée." - -He bowed. - -"Le colonel Victor de Montévrault." - -She held out a slender hand. Involuntarily, almost, he touched it with -his lips as he took it in his own. She did not stir. He did not see her -face. - -"Au revoir, madame, et tous mes remerciments!" - -"Au revoir, monsieur," she answered in her rich, deep voice. - -He felt her eyes upon him as he turned to follow Marie, candle in hand, -once more through the series of dark apartments. - -A little later and the château and its precincts were thronged with the -soldiers of the three war-worn battalions as they installed themselves -for the night. From the great yard between the stables and the barns -came the glow of cooking fires. - -But not for all was the hour of rest arrived. In a little room of the -château the colonel, with his three _chefs de bataillon_ of whom one -only was a major, was poring over a large-scale map and indicating the -positions for the lines of sentries, outposts and _grand'gardes_. Up -the opposite side of the ravine to that which they had ascended, well -in advance across the high open ground, and down the valley road he -posted them. On the three battalion commanders the greatest vigilance -was enjoined. Ahead of them there should be French cavalry, but those -were the days of flux and reflux in the meeting tides of war, and all -things were possible. - -Later still, the colonel sat at the head of the long lamp-lit table -in the great dining-room. From the walls dim portraits in lustreless -frames looked down upon the backs of the loudly chattering Frenchmen -in the exotic, Oriental uniforms. There was little or no talk of the -bitter, terrible but finally victorious days through which they--it -seemed to each of them miraculously--had lived. Animated discussion -of the future was the rule--a future confidently regarded through the -glow of the so recently victorious past. Bold strategic plans were -elaborated, illustrated with cruet and table-knives. There was much -talk of envelopment, of a rapid dash on Le Cateau, Valenciennes and -Mons that should hurl the Boche, deprived of his communications, into -the tangled thicket of the Ardennes, if indeed he escaped at all. The -colonel took no part in these arguments. He sat silently sipping the -wine which a generous hostess had caused to be placed in ample quantity -upon the table. His large brown eyes were soft, the muscles of his face -relaxed. It is possible that he thought of something quite other than -war. - -One of the soldier orderlies flitting behind the chairs touched him on -the shoulder. - -"Pardon, mon colonel, but the domestic wishes to speak to you." - -He turned in his chair to see the ancient Marie at the door. - -"Madame presents her compliments, m'sieu le colonel, and would be -honoured if you would take your coffee with her." - -The colonel rose in his chair. - -"Bonsoir et bonne nuit, messieurs!" - -"Bonsoir, mon colonel," was reiterated from the score of upturned -faces. "Bonne nuit." - -In her cosy warm salon the châtelaine sat by the fire, a glow softly -playing over her features. At her side, on a little table, a silver -coffee-service steamed. As the colonel entered she looked up to greet -him with a smile, indicating the corresponding arm-chair on the other -side of the hearth. The large dog at her feet raised his head, wagged -his tail in friendly welcome. - -In a few moments they were conversing with the ease of those who -have known each other for long years. Wartime, and particularly the -kaleidoscopic wartime of those early days, is a great ripener of -acquaintance. None might venture to forecast the circumstances of the -morrow, to predict continued life for self or other. The actual moment -must be snatched. The colonel with his quiet assured poise, his alert -intelligence; the countess, polished grande dame and yet something -more, a being of exquisite intuitions, would have set, naturally, to -partners whatever the circumstances of their meeting. Each of the pair -offered interest to the other. He, soldierly, his massive intellectual -head on the broad shoulders, the glowing soft eyes so strangely set -in the cold face, the Oriental Zouave uniform emphasising their hint -of romance, claimed the eye not less than her slender figure, gowned -with the refinement of a consummate civilisation, her supple yet strong -carriage of the auburn glory that crowned the pale oval face, the -flowing, delicate curve from rounded chin to the gently mobile breast. -Her eloquent eyes were long-lashed, downcast towards the fire. He was -asking the reason of her stay here in the danger zone. She turned them -upon him. - -"This is my own house--my family's house--the château of Lysboisée. -Since my husband's death three years ago I have always inhabited it for -a great part of the year. I have always loved it. I was a child in this -dark ravine, among the birches of the water-meadows. My own life--that -I have never shared with anyone--is here. I am of the country. All the -peasant people know me, love me. And when the war came I felt that I -must be among them, that I could not leave my house, my own dear house, -alone, unprotected against anything that might happen. So I hurried -here at a time when everybody was hurrying the other way. But the -servants had gone. Only old Marie remained, and she and I have lived -here all these black weeks, only Roland," she patted the dog's head -smilingly, "to watch over us. We have had many visits from the German -cavalry, but no violence. They saw, perhaps, that I was not afraid. Now -the people are beginning to creep back to their homes." - -He nodded his head sympathetically, described how the peasants of the -Aisne valley crept back to their farms, continued their field-tasks -close behind the trenches, apparently indifferent to the shrapnel and -the _marmites_. - -"Yes," she murmured, gazing thoughtfully into the fire, "amidst so -much death the flame of life burns ever higher, will not, must not be -extinguished." - -There was a little pause, during which the colonel sipped his coffee. -Lightly, with the smile of a prima ballerina pirouetting away from -a serious posture into which she would have you believe she fell -unwittingly, the countess commenced to talk of Paris of the days before -the war. With a young enthusiasm she spoke of her morning rides in the -Bois, of restaurants and dinner-parties--mentioning a name here and -there that might lead to the discovery of a mutual acquaintance, of -concerts and the play. The colonel listened, speaking little, seeing -her--though she did not so much as hint at them--circled by a crowd of -admirers. - -"And madame," she said innocently, "does she inhabit Paris?" - -"Madame----?" He was obviously at a loss. - -"You are not married, then?" - -"No, madame." - -"But," she persisted gently, "you have doubtless friends in Paris? A -man such as you----" she stopped, smiling. "I am indiscreet." - -"Madame," he replied in a quiet voice, "I have been in Africa for more -than twenty years. The Paris I knew exists no more." - -She turned her gaze full on him. The freshness of the man appeared -suddenly to her. An involuntary little blush suffused her face. She -covered it by a slight withdrawal from the fire. - -"Tell me about Africa," she commanded. - -He spoke at first depreciatingly of the country, the grave of so many -of France's best, so remote from all that to a Frenchman makes life -worth while. Then as he warmed to his description she saw that he loved -that parched land of immense distances where the pitiless sun consumes -the human soul or heats it to an intense unworldly fervour. He told of -interminable marches over the glowing sands, of forgotten skirmishes -where a wound was worse than death, of fierce razzias, of lonely -outpost nights in the desert underneath a miracle of stars, where under -the naked presence of the infinite one watched, finger on trigger, for -the gleam of a creeping burnous. She found herself seeking to detect a -deliberate elimination of the feminine in his reminiscences. With sure -instinct she felt there was a woman somewhere in the background. How -far back? - -"You have suffered much," she said, her deep rich voice all sympathy. - -"Who has not suffered who lives?" he replied. - -There was again a pause, where the breathing of the couched dog was the -only sound. - -"Will you not play something?" he asked, suddenly, looking at the -piano. "My opportunities have been few----" - -She rose, went to the piano, and seated herself without a word. She -played, not with the brilliance of the showy amateur nor with the hard -precision of the professional, but as though the notes on which her -light fingers fell re-echoed an intimate music of the soul. Through -the grave breath-restrained emotion of a Chopin Nocturne she led him, -then, with an enigmatic inconsequence, into the flitting, dainty, -Harlequin and Columbine passion of a Chaminade that left a question -poised, smilingly. A moment's interval, and with a deep contralto voice -she commenced to sing a chanson of old France, that followed, simply, -exquisite quiet notes, compact of love and the tragedy of love, -poignantly eloquent in their unadorned statement of the theme. He went -across to the piano, stood over her. She felt his presence very close. -A thrill passed into her voice, magical. She finished and stood up with -a sudden movement. His glowing eyes were full with tears. - -"Bonsoir, monsieur," she said abruptly, stretching out her hand. The -voice was not her own. - -He took her hand in his, held it tightly. His breath came in deep -halations from a heaving chest. - -"Madame," he said in a low intense voice, "you are divine!" - -She strove to release her hand. - -"_Voyons!_" she said plaintively, almost tearfully, averting her face. -"We met only to-day." - -"And to-morrow?--Who knows?" - -"No! no! no!" she cried and tore away her hand from his. "Bonsoir, -monsieur!" She ran across the room like a startled fawn, bowed herself -against the stone fireplace, her face hidden. He saw her shoulders -heave. - -He followed her, stood irresolute. She turned on him suddenly. - -"Oh, isn't there enough suffering in the world," she cried, -"without----?" - -"Without love?" He advanced with outstretched arms, laid his hands -upon her shoulders. She stiffened, fending him off. "Without love? If -to love is to suffer," he said in a voice deeply harmonious, "to love -is also to live. And I have waited so long to live! Have waited for -you, my twin soul! We met only to-day? What if we have only to-day to -live----?" - -She leaned back, away from him, yet held in his grasp. - -"Oh, no, no, no! I mustn't listen!" Her bosom filled. Her eyes closed. -She crumpled suddenly in his arms. - - * * * * * - -The next morning, mounted upon a fine-bred chestnut mare, a zealous -Zouave at the bridle, she waited in the great courtyard behind the -château. She had offered her knowledge of the locality to the colonel -and gladly he had accepted it. He came towards her now on his noble -black horse, bending down in grave talk with the chef de bataillon -walking by his stirrup. She acknowledged his salutation, and a moment -later they were riding out of the great gate together. - -The ravine of Lysboisée lifted its towering further wall of dark -undergrowth immediately behind the château. A narrow path, frequently -stepped, zigzagging through the hanger in steep gradients, made the -ascent of the sheer acclivity possible. Side by side they walked their -horses up, bending often in the saddle to escape the low overhanging -branches. They rode in silence, each in their own thoughts. She glanced -sideways at her companion. It was the face of a soldier, not of a -lover. Obviously he pondered some problem. She sighed. This undisturbed -solitude, the screen of thick woodland arching over them, on the -two pacing animals that nosed each other amicably, awoke primitive -instincts in her. But she kept silence, made no movement. - -At last, as though summoned by her thought, he turned his head towards -her. - -"You have received bad news, mon ami?" she asked. - -"Orders that throw a heavy responsibility upon me," he answered. - -Again they relapsed into silence. The ascent continued. Only a few -yards short of the summit did the undergrowth cease. - -For a dozen paces the path ran over bare close-cropped grass, then, -sunk in a rough cutting, surmounted the crest. - -A little beyond, on the open down, the grand'garde--a weak company of -Zouaves--was digging energetically at shelter-trenches. The colonel -spoke with the officer, rode on. - -"Would you please take me to the highest point, chère amie?" he asked. -The countess bowed her head, without a word. A touch of the spur, and -he followed her at an easy, touch-controlled canter, his horse eager to -get abreast the mare. At last she reined up, met his eyes with a smile. - -They stood upon a knoll in the downs, wide-spaced horizon all round. -Far to the south and east were the dark masses of the Forêt de Laigue. -From beyond them came a heavy distant roll of artillery. The colonel -listened, searching the panorama with narrowed eyes. At his request -she pointed out localities and the direction of localities. He turned -to look backward, saw the lips of the ravine widening out to the -south-east until the slopes fell into another valley. His face hardened. - -"Let us go back, chère amie," he said. "As quickly as possible." - -At a swift, swinging gallop--the skirts of her amazon fluttering in the -wind--they hastened back to the grand'garde. The officer came up. The -colonel took out his note-book. - -"Have you any spades or farm implements, madame?" he asked. - -He nodded to her affirmation, writing the while in his note-book. He -tore out the page, folded it, gave it to the officer. "To be delivered -to the Commandant Legros at the Château. Without delay." - -Then he turned his horse and, followed by his companion, rode slowly -along the lip of the ravine. She searched his features, anxiously. - -He stopped in a depression of the down, out of sight of the -grand'garde. He turned to her, and her heart fluttered at the -tenderness of his face. - -"Pauline," he said gravely, laying his hand upon her arm, "you must not -stay here. Listen! The regiment on our left extends to the head of the -ravine. The orders I received this morning left me to choose on which -side of the ravine I should place my trenches. We advance no further. -We are only a screen, but the screen must be maintained, must not be -risked. I am obliged to choose the other side of the ravine. We shall -almost certainly be attacked. I do not know when--nothing is known. -But you would be in danger. You must leave this afternoon, go right -back--to Amiens, Paris." - -She checked an impulse to quick speech, smiled at him. - -"Mon ami, I was almost unjust to you----" - -"You will go?" - -She shook her head. - -"No, cher ami, I remain with you." - -"But if we are attacked and have to retire to the other side of the -ravine? You cannot remain in the trenches." - -"No. I should remain in my house until you advance again." She turned -an appealing, coquettish glance upon him. "Should I be something to -fight for?" She checked his protestations. "No, cher ami, I know all -your arguments. They are useless. What did you say last night?--What if -we have only to-day to live?" Her voice sank, her eyes dropped. "Cher -ami, I want not a moment that your duty claims,--but those others, -those precious little instants, can you not accept me in them? So -little time is ours, _cher_!" - -The horses had drawn close together. He put his right arm round her -waist. She leaned back, face upturned. Their eyes met in a long deep -look. Their mouths approached, were one. The flame of life burned high -in them. Their horses' ears quivered to a louder roar of the distant -guns. - -Slowly they rode home together, by an easier, more roundabout path she -showed him. - -All that day those of the regiment not required for outposts laboured -hard at the new entrenchments on the high, western edge of the -ravine--a long, long line of delving men. Ranges were marked out; -reserves of ammunition, food and water carried up. The energising -source of all this activity, the colonel, laboured also, without haste -and without rest. His brain worked quickly, coolly, definite in its -decisions. She, his companion, unobtrusively at hand when required -for information or material of defence, vanished unnoticed when her -presence might become importunate. She quenched her personality, -transfused, she felt, her life-force into him as he worked, an -emotionless intellect. With his chefs-de-bataillon he elaborated plans -of defence; nothing was left to chance; nothing could be misunderstood. -Personally he supervised, corrected, the siting of the trenches, the -emplacements of the mitrailleuses. In the afternoon he rode over to the -colonel of the adjoining regiment, concerted arrangements. From the -général de brigade he obtained the promise of a battery in support on -the morrow. - -But he was uneasy. Patrols sent out had failed to get into touch with -the covering cavalry. The distant artillery roll was nearer. There -had been one inexplicable burst of fire some miles away to the right. -As night fell he ordered the new trenches to be manned with the bulk -of his force, leaving outposts and grand'garde on the plateau above -the ravine and down the valley. One company only he retained near the -château. - -That evening he sat again in the salon of his hostess. All was quiet. -The dog snored in front of the hearth. At his request the countess -seated herself at the piano, played dreamily with bowed head. The soft -harmonies that awoke under her fingers seemed only to make the silence -musical. - -Suddenly a shot re-echoed loud along the valley; another and another -followed. There was a burst of rapid, irregular fire, indefinitely -prolonged. The colonel rushed to a window, flung it open, listened. The -outposts down the valley were being driven in. - -His companion had risen, stood by the piano with tense features. There -was a loud hurried knock on the door. She ran to open it. A Zouave -entered, breathing heavily from swift exertion. Saluting, he handed a -message to the colonel. It was from the commander of the grand'garde on -the edge of the ravine above. He reported that his advanced posts were -in contact with the enemy, were retiring. For one moment the colonel -stood by the window, listening to the rapid clatter of the rifles, -deciding which was the heavier attack. - -He wrote an order to the officer above. The messenger disappeared. The -countess was holding out his fez and his revolver. One wild embrace and -he sprang out of the room, dashed through the adjoining salons, out -into the night. - -In the courtyard he found the reserve company assembled, awaiting his -orders. He gave them, quickly, succinctly. The company fell into fours, -doubled out of the courtyard into the darkness to form a screen across -the valley behind which the men above could seek safety. From the -widening ravine the rifle fire swelled in intensity, was a continuous -loud re-echoing clatter. Above, sharp definite reports rang out, -were rapidly multiplied. It was the grand'garde--_feu à volonté_. -He glanced to the other wall of the ravine and smiled in a grim -satisfaction. His orders were being obeyed. The long line of trenches -he knew to be there lay in silence and darkness. - -Above him there was one fierce paroxysm of fire and then the reports -diminished, sprang from lower levels. He saw quick flashes of light -among the trees. Wounded men limped and hobbled past him in the -darkness. The outpost was retiring into the valley. A bullet cracked -close to him. He turned, suddenly conscious of companionship. The -countess was standing at his side, her pale dress luminous in the -night. The dog growled angrily in front of her. - -"Pauline!" His voice was almost a shriek of alarm for her. "Pauline! -For the love of God, come with me--now--there is yet time! I cannot -leave you!" - -She grasped his hand, as a friend would. - -"No, _cher_--I stay--as a pledge for your victorious return!" - -The last men of the outpost were running past them. Overhead the -bullets cracked viciously, phutting against the walls. - -"I implore you! There may be heavy fighting!" - -"No, mon ami. I stay." Her voice was quite decided. "I have cellars." -She pressed his hand, then, with a quick movement, flung herself into -his arms, was one with him for a brief second. He unloosed her embrace. - -"Go, then," he said, his voice trembling. "Quickly. God be with you!" - -"And with you, my beloved! Take the dog with you--he will tell me where -you are." She bent down to the animal, whispered to him, pointed to the -colonel. Heavy volleys crashed out of the trees above. She sprang back -into the house. - -The dog at his heels, the colonel raced after the last of his men. They -turned to spit livid spurts of flame at the dark wall of the ravine. In -a few moments they were clambering up a steep path through the wood on -the other side. - -Half an hour later the Germans felt the long line of trenches on the -lip of the ravine, attacked, and were heavily repulsed. - - * * * * * - -At dawn the colonel reconnoitred the situation from his position on the -height. In front of him the enemy, abandoning the valley in which lay -so many of his dead, had entrenched himself along the opposite edge of -the ravine. Vicious little bursts of rifle fire at scattered parties or -individuals who hazarded themselves for a moment out of cover betokened -the vigilance of both sides, and on both sides the many spadefuls of -earth tossed in the air showed that the work of strengthening the -positions was proceeding feverishly. So far no artillery had entered -into the fray, but at any moment the first shell from one party or the -other might come whining across the gulf. To the right of the Zouaves -another battalion had established contact, was maintaining itself. To -the left, at the head of the ravine, where they joined with the next -regiment, a fierce fight was proceeding--attack and counter-attack -which finally left the positions unchanged. Far to right and left the -crackle of rifle fire swelled and continued. Mingled with it came the -rapid detonations of field-guns, their reports ever nearer. The battle -was developing all along the line. The colonel received positive orders -to maintain himself at all costs, to risk nothing. Upon the maintenance -of this thin screen depended the safety of two armies, forming and in -motion, perhaps the fate of France. - -Through his glasses the colonel gazed into the depths of the ravine, -where the white stone château glinted through the dark, thickly -surrounding trees. A wisp of smoke ascended from one of the chimneys -and he had to be content with that assurance that all was well. A -patrol sent out in the first light had failed to reach it. All access -to the château was commanded by spurs from the other side of the -ravine. But apparently it was unoccupied by the enemy. He thought -suddenly of the dog, wondered what had happened to it. In the stress -of the night attack he had lost sight of it, forgotten it. Even as he -searched his memory it came bounding along the trench towards him, -nosed against his leg. There was something fastened to its collar, a -letter. - -As he read it, all the passion of his ascetic, sun-parched years, -awakened by the exquisite charm of that slender pale woman lonely -there below him, surged up in him, overmastering, obliterating all -else. The eloquent eyes under the auburn hair were vivid to him, spoke -to his deepest soul. Her letter was a prose lyric of passion wherein -all emotions--longing, tenderness, anxiety, surrender, pride in her -lover, even a flash of the doubt born of swiftly-given love--contended. -It was revelatory of her inmost self as her speech had never been. -She, it seemed, had also waited--waited. Some of the phrases in -it--"The burning sacrament of your kiss"--"linked in an instant for -eternity"--branded themselves upon his brain. In a whirl of cerebral -excitement he tore out a page from his note-book, dashed off a letter -not less ardent, not less than hers the ecstasy of a soul that lives at -last in the consuming fire of love. - -He attached it to the dog's collar, pointed away. The animal sprang -over the low parapet, disappeared in the undergrowth below. - -An artillery officer came up, reported himself as the observer of the -newly arrived battery. He evinced much professional interest in the -château, seemed eager to make it the target for his guns. The colonel -explained the situation. - -All through the multitudinous tasks and responsibilities of the day his -soul yearned out to the lonely woman below. To have risked his life in -an endeavour to see her would have been more than a joy, it would have -been the satisfaction of a need of his being--but his life was pledged -to France. To him his duty was a religion with which his love did not -conflict, nay both, upon the summit of his life, blended and were one. -Yet tempted, he found himself speculating upon the possibility of -creeping down at nightfall. - -But night saw the intense glare of three German searchlights shoot out -of the darkness. A storm of shrapnel burst fiercely over the trenches -of the Zouaves. A wild attack of shadowy forms surging up out of the -undergrowth beat against the parapet, ebbed back in an inferno of -noise from the long line of countless stabs of flame, was hurled into -the ravine under the reiterated crashes, the sudden livid flares of -shrapnel from the battery behind. - -Down below, at the highest window of the château, the countess stood -looking out into the night, her lover's letter pressed close against -her bosom. High above her flickered and spurted the endless rifle -flashes from _his_ trenches, paling the stars above the dark hill. The -noise of the conflict, the shouts and cries amid the re-echoing din, -was a tribute to his power. She gloried in it, exulted when the attack -subsided, withdrew in a clamour of voices past the château to the hill -behind. - -Descending, she wrote yet another letter to him--a proud pæan of love -triumphant. Then suddenly she flung herself, face downward, arms -outstretched, across the table in a passion of irrepressible tears. -She lay thus a long time, until the heaving of her body ceased and she -slept, her cheek upon the letter. - -The morning was yet young when she despatched the dog once more upon -his mission to her lover. Save for an occasional shot, the opposing -trenches were quiet. Stretcher parties were at work in the valley. -Waited upon by the ancient Marie--eloquent in her protestations of -terror during the night--she breakfasted, counting the minutes until -the return of her messenger. Roland arrived, pleased with himself, -as his energetic tail testified. Once more with swelling breast and -radiant face she read her lover's letter, passionate as the first. In a -postscript, it begged her to give no information that might imperil her. - -During the day the battle woke again between the trenches at the head -of the ravine, continued in fierce spasms hour after hour. In the -afternoon she wrote another letter, despatched it and received an -answer. She was strangely, exaltedly happy. _He_ was holding firm. -No one came to the château. At night she again posted herself at the -window to watch the flashes from his trenches. - -The third day dawned. She wrote, assuring him of her safety--of much -else. The reply duly arrived. A false peace brooded over the little -valley. Ceding to an impulse, she went out, tried to get a clearer view -of his position, to see--she would not admit to herself her absurd -hope. Then, regretting her imprudence, she returned hurriedly. - -The grey of afternoon already filled the valley when a loud, imperative -knocking upon the great door re-echoed through the house. The countess -stood as if turned to stone; her heart seemed to stop. So soon! The -threat to her exalted, impassioned life of the past days paralysed her. -She could with difficulty cry to Marie to admit. - -A German officer entered, a group of soldiers behind him. He saluted -with stiff ceremony. - -"Madame, I regret you must leave this house at once!" His French was -painfully correct. - -She faced him, tense. - -"And if I refuse?" - -"Then, madame, you leave me no alternative but to arrest you as a -suspect." - -She cried an inarticulate protest. The dog, hitherto standing by her -side as though straining at a leash, sprang forward with an angry growl. - -The German regarded the menace coolly, without moving a muscle. - -"Schönes Tier!" he murmured. Then, turning to his men, he ordered: -"Secure it, one of you!" - -Thunderously growling, with a puzzled look at his mistress standing -like a statue, the dog suffered a cord to be slipped through its -collar. The blood surged into the countess's face. - -"Monsieur----!" The sense of outrage choked her. - -"Madame," he interrupted calmly, "I need scarcely remind you that time -presses. You will not, I am sure, constrain us to violence." - -She met his eyes, was confronted with inexorable necessity. Her hands -twitched. - -"You will at least allow me a little time to collect a few clothes and -valuables?" - -"A little time, madame." - -She ran from the room, hearing as a last sound the dog choking as it -struggled on the leash. In the hall was Marie, haggard, her old body -shaking with excitement. She clutched at her mistress's arm. - -"Madame! what is happening?" She lapsed into patois under the stress. - -The countess replied also, without noticing it, in the language of her -childhood. - -"I am arrested. They are letting me fetch some clothes." - -The servant suppressed a cry. "Madame!" The old hands trembled upon -her. "The colonel!--a note to him--he will come--give it to me!" - -"But Marie----" They looked deep down into each other's soul. With a -sudden movement of decision the countess ran into an adjoining room, -scribbled "_They are taking me. P._" on a piece of paper, thrust it -into the old woman's hand. "You are sure, Marie?" she asked wildly, -seeking condonation for herself. - -"Chère dame!" was the brief, eloquent reply. The old woman disappeared. - -The countess ran upstairs to her bedroom, the one word -"Delay!--delay!--delay!--delay!" beating in her brain. - -Down in the salon the officer gave a few curt commands to his men, -ordered the dog to be taken into the yard. Left alone, he strolled -round the room examining the pictures, the bibelots, opening the -drawers of the secretaire. The minutes passed. The house was in deep -silence. He began to get impatient, to wonder if some trick----. But he -was sure of the vigilance of his men. A quarter of an hour had elapsed -when he heard a sharp little burst of fire from the German trenches -above. It was not answered. The valley resumed its unwonted quiet. -Exasperated at the delay he began to pace up and down the room, looked -at his watch, gave his prisoner yet another five minutes. - -Suddenly his eye was caught by a little piece of folded paper on the -floor under the piano. He picked it up, opened it. It was a letter that -had evidently fallen from the countess's dress when she ran from the -room. He read it through, a gleam in his eyes. "So! meine Gräfin!" he -murmured, and smiled. - -The colonel's passionate outpouring awoke no sympathetic thrill of -romance in his breast. The tip of a pink tongue protruding under -his fair moustache, his clever blue eyes alight, he turned it over, -pondering the signature. From many indications he deduced that the -writer was in the trenches on the other side of the ravine, was of -commanding rank. Even as he considered it there was a knock at the door. - -"Herein!" A German soldier entered and saluted. He brought a message -from the trenches above. It explained the little burst of fire, warned -him. The officer stood for a moment in thought, then his face lit up -with a malicious pleasure. The clever blue eyes saw a sequence of -events--the messenger from the countess, whose sudden scramble over the -opposing parapet had drawn the German fire, imploring rescue of the -distressed; a French commander, intoxicated with love for a beautiful -woman, catching fire at the news, issuing wild orders, seeing only his -mistress in imminent danger; a reckless avalanche of French soldiery -sweeping down the sides of the ravine in a blind quixotic chivalry. He -saw----"Famos!" he ejaculated, and laughed softly to himself. He wrote -out an answering message, a long one, and handed it to the orderly. - -When the countess returned to the room, garbed for departure, she found -him seated at the piano, playing gently with a sentimental touch. He -rose at her entrance, performed a polite bow. - -"Madame, you appear to have a very interesting house," he said in his -stiff French; "would you do me the honour of escorting me over it?" - -The countess stared at him, dumbfounded. Were her prayers miraculously -answered? Delay!--delay!--delay! - -"If you wish, monsieur," she answered in a calm, controlled voice. -Following the twin thought in her brain, her eyes searched the carpet. - -He noticed the glance, drew the letter from his pocket. - -"I think you dropped this, madame," he said, handing it to her. - -She took it from him. Had he read it? The blonde face that met her -questioning gaze was impassive under its smiling courtesy. - -For an instant they confronted each other. With a cynical sense of -superiority, pleasant to himself, he read her delight at his unexpected -request, carefully though she tried to disguise it, read her quickly -banished doubt that he had penetrated her scheme, was counter-plotting. -He could almost phrase her thankful prayer to God--begging for a -continuance of the miracle--that the barbarian had thus delivered -himself into the strong hands of her lover. He would surely come! Both -as they stood thus silent were calculating the necessary minutes--but -his calculation was a double one. With the politest of bows, he opened -the door for her. - -Together they went through salon after salon, candlelit since he -refused to have the shutters opened. In contrast with his previous -manner, he displayed not the least haste. Leisurely he lingered over -each piece, discussed it, appraised it with real connoisseurship -as though he were merely a cultured guest. She loitered willingly, -her brain on fire, every sense at strain. The precious moments were -accumulating. She found new treasures for his admiration, racked her -memory for rare objects that might hold him yet a little longer. He -handled them, was enthusiastic, with calm audacity regretted this -terrible war which imperilled so many beautiful things. Not once did -he depart from his attitude of studied politeness. And while he spoke -she was listening--listening--for the sudden shout, the quick close -detonations, which should announce her deliverance. - -At any moment now! She glanced for the barbarian's weapon, her heart -praying for _his_ safety. Out there beyond the shuttered windows he was -coming in might at the head of his men. She seemed to see him--running -towards her, past the Cupid-crowned fountain. She exulted in the crass -absence of suspicion in the hatefully calm enemy at her side. - -Out there in the twilight the precincts of the château were being -lined with grey-clad soldiers, settling themselves in hidden firing -positions. The officer saw them, with experienced second-sight. He -smiled, blandly. His prisoner loitered, desperately prolonging his -happy preoccupation. - -When they returned to the salon it was to find another German officer -waiting. Unseen by her, they exchanged a significant look. - -There was a sharp, hissing, ugly rush in the air and a loud crash in -the courtyard. - - * * * * * - -By a fortunate chance the colonel was near when the panting Marie -scrambled over the parapet to the accompaniment of a dozen rifle -bullets. On the point of collapse, the old woman sank into his arms, -stammered confused unintelligible words, gave him the scrap of paper. -Consigning her to the care of an orderly, he read the message, then -raised his head, his fingers crushing the paper. He stood motionless, -in intense thought. Slowly his eyes turned, fell upon the old woman -shaking more with fright from the narrowly escaped bullets than from -her exertions. Then his gaze lifted, fixed itself with frowning -concentration upon the clay wall of the trench. He saw only with an -inner vision. Around him no one spoke. His jaw set hard. - -He raised himself upon the fire-step, gazed over the parapet through -his glasses. The opposing lip of the ravine, bare of undergrowth -a few yards from the top, lay silent, seemingly deserted. He -called up an officer, handed him his glasses, indicated a point, -ordered an unceasing watch upon it. Then he sent orderlies for his -chefs-de-bataillon and the artillery observation officer in all haste. - -They came. The battalion commanders received definite instructions and -departed. The artillery officer remained with him. The ancient Marie -sat upon the fire-step of the trench, trembling but recovering. She -watched the saviour of her mistress with fascinated eyes. - -The trench began to fill with soldiers. They crouched in their firing -positions, their heads kept carefully below the parapet. Here and -there little groups were busy about the machine-guns, fitted the long -comb-like strips of cartridges, huddled ready to hoist the weapon into -action. The watching officer called, without moving his head. - -"Infantry are slipping into the ravine, mon colonel!" - -The colonel, stern, impassive, ordered him to report when the movement -ceased. - -The long trench filled with crouching riflemen lay in a hush of intense -expectancy. There was scarce a movement save the quick, involuntary -jerks of nerves at strain. The old woman's eyes began to wander, -puzzled, seeking comprehension. The wild rush forward she had imagined, -would it never come? She waited, breathless, for the inspiring command -of the colonel that should wake the tumultuous Hurrah! The watching -officer reported: - -"Movement has ceased, mon colonel. About two hundred men." - -The colonel drew his watch from his pocket, glanced at the dial. Beyond -that he made no movement. The old woman's eyes were fixed upon him. -Suddenly she noticed that he wore neither sword nor revolver. In a -flash she understood. She sprang up like a madwoman, crying at the top -of her voice. - -"Soldiers! To the rescue! The Boches are taking away my mistress! -Now! Save her! Your colonel--her lover--abandons her! _Abandons her!_ -Cowards! Cowards! Do you want an old woman to show you the way?" - -She leaped in a frenzy upon the fire-step, tearing aside the soldiers -to make way for her with cat-like hands. There was a stir along the -trench. The soldiers knew her, knew her mistress, their generous -hostess. There was a murmur. The colonel stood like a statue carved in -stone. His face was that of an ascetic at the supreme moment. In his -eyes was the glow of a mystic who beholds a vision. - -He turned to the old woman. - -"Be quiet!" he commanded. His eyes rather than his voice quelled her. -She sank in a passion of hysterical weeping to the floor of the trench. -He glanced at his watch again, replaced it, waited. Age-long minutes -passed. He turned to the artillery officer. - -"Now!" he said. "But be careful! As near to the château as possible -without touching it." - -The officer shouted an order to the waiting telephonist. Overhead there -was the rush of a shell, from far behind the sharp crack of a gun. -Leisurely--one--two--three--four--the battery fired. The observation -officer looked over the parapet. The colonel mounted by his side, -watched also. - -One--two--three--four--the battery fired again, repeated itself once -more. Down there among the trees was a faint drifting smoke. - -The colonel counted the minutes as the well-placed shells dropped -around the château of his dreams. He saw, where none other saw, the -sudden alarm below; the prisoner hurriedly evacuated from her home, -dragged scrambling up through the dark trees into safety on the other -side. One--two--three--four. She should be out of harm's way. - -He turned his face to the trench, shouted an order. As he turned his -gaze again swiftly towards the enemy he had a glimpse of something -upon the bare lip of the ravine--something white, quickly moving. He -had miscalculated! In a sudden agony, he shrieked rather than shouted -a countermanding order. Too late! His voice was drowned in one long -smashing detonation of a thousand rifles in an irregular volley -from the trench. From the battery behind came the rapid, multiplied -hammer-slams of the guns firing at their maximum speed. - -He had a ghostly vision of an anguished woman's face, denying love. - -The ravine was lashed by a tornado of shell and bullets. Caught in its -depths, unseen yet precisely imagined from above, men were clambering -in an agony of desperation to escape from the death that crashed -unceasingly overhead and hailed about them. The white shrapnel puffs -were countless against the dark background of the trees. - -For a quarter of an hour the fierce fire continued, was answered in -bitter anger from the opposing trenches. Then on both sides it died -away. The dead in the valley lay in quiet. - -The colonel, his face rigid, turned to walk along the trench. Suddenly -a dog trailing a cord leaped over the parapet, dashed at him in a -frenzy of joy. Then, perceiving the old woman, it jumped at her, nosed -around her with vigorously wagging tail. - -The old woman shrieked. The colonel looked. There was blood upon the -dog's coat. The old woman drew herself up, held the colonel's eyes. -"_Murderer!_" she cried with the intensity of a curse, and fainted. - -The colonel strode on. - - * * * * * - -On a bitter day in December, three months later, the colonel returned -from his morning tour of the trenches for which he was responsible. -They were trenches in another landscape, far from those whose memory -lay like a sear across his soul. At the entrance to the sandbagged, -wrecked farmhouse which served him as a home the soldier-_courrier_ -was in the act of extracting letters from his wallet. The colonel took -the bundle destined for him. At the sight of the topmost envelope he -stopped as though he had seen a ghost. With trembling fingers he tore -it open, read: - -"My hero! _I understood! I understood!_ Oh, didn't you know I -understood? How grand you are--more than a man! All these weary months -of imprisonment, trial, release and travel, I have been hungering to -tell you this. Home once more, France is more than ever France to me -since you ennobled me in sacrifice. Beloved!----" - -The colonel hurried into his quarters to read the letter in solitude. -None might see his face. - - - - -THEY COME BACK - - -Whittingham Street, N., had benefited by the war. The long vista of its -windows flush with the pavement was decent with curtains of a cleanness -unwonted before the cataclysm. There were strange dots of reflected -sunlight from brass door-handles and knockers that were polished. These -things were symbols of the newly realised importance of Whittingham -Street's inhabitants in the scheme of society, an importance which, -swiftly translated into self-esteem, expressed itself with a uniformity -natural to life in a mean street. That house was poor indeed which did -not possess its gramophone. The womenfolk were curiously predominant to -those who remembered the old-time loungers at the corner "pubs," and -that womenfolk, disdainful of the feathers of the long ago, was arrayed -in startlingly smart, well-emphasized, cheap copies of the latest -fashions, oddly incongruous with the tall, smoke-vomiting chimneys of -Messrs. Hathaway's great factory which closed the vista of the street. -The sparseness of the men, immediately remarked, received a solemn -significance from the flag-hung shrine on the wall of the Council -School. The children who played in front of it--paper helmet, tin-can -drum and wooden sword--were vividly cognizant that this was a time of -War. - -It was evening, and from the great gates of Messrs. Hathaway's factory -poured a ceaseless stream of women. But not this evening did that -stream flow down the street with its usual swift and uninterrupted -course. There were checks in it--obstacles of groups that talked -excitedly and forgot to progress--while others in eager haste eddied -round them. On the high wall by the gate, a bill-poster was covering a -"War Savings" placard with another of different meaning. A black cloud -of smoke drifted away from the tall chimneys and was not reinforced -other than by faint and lessening wisps. - -A young woman, one of those whose urgent haste trifled not with -talk, hurried down the street, stopped before one of the neatest -house-fronts, tremblingly thrust a key into the latch, opened and ran -breathlessly upstairs. - -A grey-haired old woman rose from a wooden chair by the side of a -cradle in a clean and modestly furnished room. At the entrance of her -daughter-in-law she laid a finger on her lips and looked warningly to -the infant. Then remarking an obvious distress, she changed colour. - -"What's the matter, Ann?" she whispered, shaking with a sudden alarm. -She had to steady herself by the support of the table. "Not--Jim?" - -The young woman shook her head, controlled her panting breath. - -"Hathaway's!" she brought out. "Closing down!" - -The elder stared speechlessly for a moment, then seated herself with -that blank mute resignation of the aged poor, long disillusioned of -any title to good fortune. The fingers of her unshapely hands twined -and untwined themselves tensely in her lap. - -"Don't you hear, mother?" said the young woman irritably. "Hathaway's -are closing down!" - -"Oh, dear!" the old woman raised a face that was strained with imminent -tears. "I knew it 'ud never last--I knew it 'ud never last!" - -"What we shall do, 'Eaven knows!" said Ann, viciously accenting the -sole possible fount of knowledge. "They're all closing down--all of -'em, all round!" Her gesture, as she unpinned her hat and put it, with -an excess of energy, on the table, testified to the completeness of -the closed horizon. She stood looking at the sleeping child, her brows -bent, her mouth troubled. Then suddenly she flung herself on her knees -and buried her head in the old woman's lap, shaking with sobs. - -"Oh, I did so want to keep it nice for Jim when 'e comes back! I did! I -did! All we've got together. And now it'll all go--bit by bit! And I've -worked so 'ard--so very 'ard! An' 'e'll never see, never know 'ow nice -it was! Oh--mother!" She could utter no more words, only inarticulate -sounds. - -The old woman soothed her, stroking her hair. - -"There, dear! there, dear! Don't take on! It'll all come right. I can -go out again an' do a bit of cleanin'. I daresay Mrs. Smith'll take me -on again. I ain't done no work for a long while--sitting 'ere eatin' -your bread--I've 'ad a nice rest, I 'ave--I'm quite strong again now. -We'll both get somethin', you see, dear!" - -The young woman raised herself. - -"No!--No!--No!--You shan't work any more!" She turned her head wearily. -"I can't make it out. _What's happening?_ Why are they all shutting -down like this?" - -The old woman looked at her stupidly. The remote causes which made or -unmade her unimportant existence were beyond her comprehension. - -"What's that?" cried Ann, jumping to her feet. "_What's 'e calling?_" - -The raucous shout of a newsvendor floated up from the street. Ann -listened for a moment--and then, after a hurried search for a halfpenny -in her purse, dashed out of the door and down the stairs. - -She reappeared after a bare minute, brandishing the newspaper, -wild-eyed, panting. - -"Mother! Mother!" She could not wait to enter the door before -commencing her news. "It's Peace! _Peace!_" She struggled with the -unfolded paper, crushed it together again, searching eagerly for the -magic headlines. "Here it is! Listen!" The old woman, equally all -trembling eagerness, was standing at her side, pawing vaguely at the -arm which held the newspaper. Ann read out the great news. "'_The wild -rumours current during the past few days have received a startling -confirmation. It is announced that an armistice has been signed on all -the fronts. This undoubtedly means a general Peace. The end of the -war has come._' Mother! it's all over! it's all over--and Jim'll be -coming back! Oh, I can't 'ardly believe it! _It's all over!_ Oh, thank -God--thank God!" - -"All over! My Jim! Safe and sound! Oh," the old woman commenced that -sniffling weep common to the aged and the young. "I can't 'elp it, -Ann--I can't 'elp it!--I must cry!" - -Ann dashed down the newspaper and flung her arms round the old woman -in a close embrace. "Mother! Mother! I never was so"--and here a sob -checked her speech also--"so 'appy in my life!" Face against face, -the tears of the two women mingled--tears not of grief but of emotion -for which there was no expression. Somewhere down the street church -bells were ringing in joyous peal on peal. It might have been merely a -coincidence of practice, but to the two women whose simple souls beat -close together, in a swoon of intense feeling that obliterated the -sharp outlines of environment, this happy rioting of the bells seemed a -holy blessing on the moment. - -"Oh, Ann dear, Ann dear," said the old woman, looking up. "What a -thanksgiving it'll be for all the poor anxious women!" - -"Oh, we're very lucky--we're very lucky. Jim'll be coming back. Think -of it, mother!" - -They kissed one another as if each were kissing the man who would come -back as son and husband. - -"We've got to keep it for 'im," said Ann. "All the little 'ome. An' -'e'll soon be back to work for us an' the baby, an' we shan't never be -parted any more! Oh, mother, think of the poor women who won't 'ave -no one to come back to 'em! When they see 'em marching by! Oh--we're -lucky, we're very lucky!" - -The old woman stood staring out of the window in vague thought, her -eye caught by the vivid red of the flags on the War Shrine. - -"It'll be a different world, Ann, when they all come back," she said. -"Them what 'ave been left be'ind all through will find lots missing -what they look for. And them what come back won't come back the same. -It'll never be the same again, any of it; let's 'ope it'll be better." - - * * * * * - -_They_ were coming back. The Mother-City of the Empire woke, silent of -traffic, decked for a day that knew no sufficient parallel, the day -when the thousands of her sons--those who had gone in their ones and -twos, their single battalions--should march back from vast adventure in -the full majesty of their corporate soldier-life. The London Divisions -were coming back from the War, were marching for the last time at full -strength. And the London streets were tunnels of gay flags, walled with -black masses of citizens kept clear from the sanded roadways. From -every steeple the bells tossed out their exuberant rejoicing. In every -breast of the millions there congregated was a surge of emotion that -exhaled in one sustained murmur of the gladness for which there are no -words but which fills the eyes and chokes the throat. - -They were coming! The thrilling blare of instruments of brass; the -heart-stirring tap and roll and beat of the drums; the intoxicating -rhythmic swinging lilt and crash; the brave gay runs of melody, -sublimely simple, that bring the tears; the solid, even tramp of -thousands who march as one--and the leading files were passing in a -storm of cheers, a madness of waving hands. For the last time they -passed shoulder to shoulder in the familiar ranks, marching as they -had marched for all the years of exile, marching as they had marched -down the fatal roads to Loos and Gommecourt, Guillemont and all those -rubble heaps where the bravest and the dearest of the greatest city of -the world died for the fragment of a village and for England. Rifles -at the slope, bare bayonets asserting the ancient privileges that they -had won, O so dearly, the right to flaunt, the heavy weather-stained -pack on the sturdy shoulders, the steel helmets awry with the tilt -of long-familiar use, the brown strong faces gleaming with their -smiles--so they marched, not any more under the thunder of the guns, -but in a frenzy of voices where the madly rioting bells were lost. - -Battalion by battalion--all the glorious names, London's own--the -London Scottish, first in the fray in the long ago, the Queen's -Westminsters, the Kensingtons, the London Rifle Brigade, the H.A.C., -the numberless battalions of the London Regiment--they came, each -with its aura of the deathless dead. They came from the interminable -purgatory of the endless trenches, terminated at last, from the -unimaginable inferno of Hill 60, from the hopeless dying of May the -Ninth, from the fierce hopes, the bitter strife of Loos, from the -massacre of Gommecourt and the bloody fights of Guillemont, of Vimy -Ridge, of Messines, of a thousand places that were humble and are -henceforth names of splendour. Miraculously strong, happy, pregnant -with vivid life they emerged from that distant whelm of peril. And -the eyes that had looked so long at death in the bare fields pocked -hideously with the disease of war, looked up now at the ranked tall -buildings, so familiar and yet so strange, so impressively permanent -after timeless æons of destruction. Behind those windows--could it -be?--they had sat at desk through months and years. Between them and -that past was a curtain of fire, of emotions that had transformed, of -the intensity of life which has persisted in the face of death. And -rank by rank, battalion after battalion, swinging with powerful stride, -they marched back into the past that had seemed for ever gone. - -And those who watched the level ranks flowing in their endless stream, -cheering with throats now incapable of aught but the inarticulate cry, -perceiving them mistily through a blur of tears, saw more than the men -who marched, treading once again the asphalt of the London streets. -They saw the ghosts of ranks, doubling--more than doubling--the ranks -of living men, the ghosts of those who had looked as these looked, -brown-faced, strong-limbed, the incarnation of living will, and were -now no more than the wind blowing over the desolate countrysides where -they had ceased to be. Yet were they present, the men who had died -that England might live. The stir of their souls was in the skirling -pipes, the wail and feverish beat of the fifes and drums, the maddening -purposeful blare and thud of the brass bands. They looked out of the -eyes of those who marched--the soul unconquerable, the living spirit -of the English race. And a divine afflatus swept over the waving, -cheering crowds, swept them to a wilder intoxication. One, whose -faculty of speech was not yet overwhelmed, cried: "Three cheers for the -boys who are left behind! Hurrah! Hurrah!----" and could not finish. -And a woman who stood, tensely pallid, staring at the so-familiar -badges of the troops who passed, stared at utter strangeness, and fell -as dead. - -The next battalion followed on, singing, carrying on a tune caught up -far back along the route, the farewell song of Kitchener's Army of -1915, sung now as an instinctive antistrophe to that old chorale when -they had marched to war: - - "Keep the home fires burning, - While your hearts are yearning, - Though your lads are far away, they dream of home, - There's a silver lining - Through the dark cloud shining, - Turn your dark clouds inside out - Till the boys come home." - -They passed in a roar of voices that drowned the band. - -So the long, long columns of the London Divisions tramped through the -heart of the Mother-City, under the fluttering of countless flags, -under the surge and resurge of joy-bells from every steeple, under -great banners that proclaimed the gratitude of the city. Rank after -rank they lifted their eyes to the laurel-green inscription that -spanned the street at Temple Bar: "SHALL WE FORGET?--NEVER!" - -Rank by rank they passed under the promise--the thousands of men welded -in the fires of war to a wondrous miracle of collective soul--passed -onward for the last time as one living unit, ere they should lay down -their arms, _fall out_--and disperse, individuals that were fragments -of a sacred memory, the shreds of a battle-flag distributed. - - * * * * * - -Sir Thomas Jackson Hathaway, Kt., Alderman of the City of London, -looked along the masculine faces, spaced with the interstices of the -departed ladies, of the little dinner-party of intimate friends, and -then again to the brown keen visage of his son. He pushed along the -decanter--he was old-fashioned and made a virtue of it--"Fill up, -Harry, my boy--I've been looking after the cellar while you've been -away--there's more of it." He laughed a little at the mirth of his -implied suggestion that there might possibly be a shortage in the -cellars of Sir Thomas Hathaway. And his guests laughed a little in -courtesy. - -"We've kept the flag flying here also, my boy," said the big, heavily -jovial host, puffing hugely at his cigar and then taking it from his -mouth to examine it with a superfluously critical eye. "You'll find -things as well--better, than when you left. You don't mind, gentlemen, -this little talk of shop? After all, we're all friends together, and -most of us have some small interest in the little business, ha! ha!" -The guests were, in fact, Sir Thomas Hathaway's co-directors in the -large enterprises he controlled. He continued: "Better I may say, for -we have been very conservative--we've looked to the younger generation -away fighting our battles for us--and we've built up a reserve fund -that a few years ago we shouldn't have dreamed of. You've come back -to a first-class concern, Harry, my boy. Here's to it!" He raised and -drained his glass, setting a followed example to his guests. - -Captain Hathaway had been toying with a match on the tablecloth. He -looked up--quiet and thoughtful, his face clean-cut and aristocratic by -contrast with the heavy opulence of his sire. - -"You don't anticipate Labour trouble, then, father?" - -Sir Thomas Hathaway laughed, a guffaw, and crashed his hand on the -table. - -"Labour troubles, my boy! You need have no fear on that score. We're -going to teach Labour a lesson. We haven't built up our reserve for -nothing.--not only ourselves, but all the houses in the trade. For long -enough we've been dictated to by Labour--and now, by God, we're going -to crush it! Do you know what's coming, my boy? Have you thought about -it? There's going to be the biggest flood of Labour chucked on the -market that the world has ever known. All of 'em fightin'--_fightin'_ -for jobs! And the trade, Harry, my boy, is going to _lock out_! We're -closed down now, and we shan't open again till our own good time. How -long d'you think the Union funds'll last? _We'll bust 'em_--bust 'em -for ever and a day. And when we open our shops again to Labour--it'll -be on our own terms! Here, fill up, gentlemen, I can vouch for this -wine--cost me a sinful price it did. We'll bust 'em, my lad, so that -never again in our time shall we hear a word of Labour trouble." He -gulped the glassful of his sinfully costly wine. - -Captain Hathaway glanced round the table at the somewhat flushed, -semi-senile features of his father's guests and partners. They were one -and all nodding their heads in varying emphasis of approbation. He got -up. - -"Well, father, I don't think we'll discuss it now. Suppose we join the -ladies?" - -In the high drawing-room, softly lit with diffused radiance from the -ceiling, draped with precious modern hangings that were genuine and -spaced out with expensive antique paintings that were not, furnished -with the luxury of a wealth too utterly complete in its overwhelming -newness to allow imagination its leap across an artistic restraint, -the ladies purred, or cooed in careful falsetto, as they awaited the -entrance of the males. At a grand piano, slightly removed, a young -woman with a delicately refined face played softly to herself--in -a quiet ecstasy of gladness for which this was the only satisfying -expression. - -Captain Hathaway, entering with his father's guests, came straight -across to her, and she looked up, smiling, into her husband's face -as though he had come in response to a murmured summoning spell. She -ceased and leaned back her head against him as he stood close behind -her. - -"Oh, Harry," she said, "it's so lovely to have you again--for always, -always!" Her eyes half closed and her bosom heaved as she drank in an -intoxicating realization of his definite return, sketched to herself a -delicious little swoon. - -"My dear!" he murmured. "It's good! Home--home for always with my -beloved!" - -She clutched at his hand, and for a moment, while the loud-voiced -crowd vanished, they were secret lovers, snatched up to dizzy heights, -intensely thrilling with an exquisite community, eyes looking into -eyes and seeing more than human brain can translate of transcendent -vision. She released him and bowed forward suddenly with a little gulp, -striking, with trembling hands, vague chords on the piano. - -"Now, Ethel, my dear," came the crass boom of her father-in-law's -voice, "when you've finished your spooning, let's have something jolly. -What about that bit out of 'Not a Word to the Wife!' Tra-la-la-la-la!" -He sketched a hideous caricature of blatant banality. "We're all jolly -to-night--none of your mooning sentiment, but jolly. Eh, ladies and -gentlemen?--properly jolly for Harry's first night back." - -Ethel got up from the piano, coupling an allegation of another's -superior capacity with an invitation to perform, an invitation -smirkingly accepted. - -The slangy crash and bang alternating with hyper-emphasized -sentimentality of the current tune was a cover under which Ethel -Hathaway retreated to happy intimacy with her husband. Not for long was -she allowed it. The very-consciously best-looking of the co-directors' -wives sidled up and subsided into the adjacent chair. She yearned -up into Captain Hathaway's face, while she cooed deprecation of her -intrusion to his wife. - -"But I do so want to hear how Captain Hathaway earned his Military -Cross! Of course, I read all about it in the papers--but then--they're -so bald, aren't they? One misses, what shall I say?--the human touch of -heroism." - -Mrs. Hathaway caught her husband's eye and forbade the instant flight. - -"Tell Mrs. Jameson all about it, Harry," she commanded coolly. There -was something in the tone which rendered Mrs. Jameson's extorted -confidence quite worthless. - -"There's little to tell," said Captain Hathaway. "The fellow who -really earned anything there was to get--and, I'm glad to say, got the -D.C.M.--was one of my men, a chap named Jim Swain. He used to be in our -employment, Ethel, by the way. It was a pretty tight corner and I got -practically left alone--all the other fellows knocked out--and this -chap Swain came up with a bag of bombs--jolly plucky thing, for there -didn't seem a dog's chance--and we chucked the bombs at the Hun till he -didn't dare raise his head. After a bit, some of another company came -up and we consolidated that bit of trench. That's all there was to it." - -"Oh, how splendid!" Mrs. Jameson enthused vaguely. "Leadership _is_ -everything, isn't it?" - -"When you've got something to lead, Mrs. Jameson. One couldn't have -better stuff than my men--they're magnificent. They're the nation--and -now they're coming back they've got to be treated like the men they -are and not like soulless machinery." He wound up on a note of fierce -protest against something not obvious to his hearers. - -"Now, Harry," said his wife, "don't inflict your theories on Mrs. -Jameson. We both of us positively refuse to be sympathetic with the -working class, don't we, Mrs. Jameson?" She laughed lightly. "The -working class is just as selfish as any other." - -A wave of collective chatter from an approaching group engulfed this -conversation. - -Late that night Sir Thomas Hathaway sat alone with his son. - -"Now, Harry, my lad," he said. "You're going to take Ethel away for a -three months' holiday. You've jolly well earned it, both of you. And, -when you come back, you'll be head of Hathaway and Company. I've done -my bit and I'm going to rest. My interest in the business is now being -transferred into your name. That's my little present to you, my boy, by -way of showing that I'm proud of you. And I know that you'll keep up -the fine old traditions of the house, eh?" - - * * * * * - -The curtains had disappeared from the windows of Whittingham Street. -The brass of the doors had lost its polish. The women who had tripped -along in an earnest display of finery were replaced by blowsy unkempt -females who stood at the doors and gossiped. Once more the corners -emphasized by the sordid public-houses were the idling-ground of groups -of men, more numerous, shabbier even than of old. But these men had -not the shiftless look of their predecessors. In their faces, thin -and white, was a hardness which was odd in an urban population. In -the eyes which followed the progress of a stranger up the street was -a dangerous glare. The flags of the War Shrine had disappeared; its -gilt-inscribed panel was dingy and splashed with mud. At the far end of -the street the great chimneys of Hathaway's works stuck up, clean of -smoke, into a clear sky. The massive entrance gates were a closed wall -across the vista. - -In the little room to which Jim Swain had returned--after the days -unnumbered of life in the open trenches, wet dykes in the winter, and -in summer dusty sunken avenues where death struck suddenly in the -glare; after the countless nights of clear stars rising to a wondrous -infinity of multitude and distance above the dark bank of parapet--Ann -bent over a soap-box cradle where a child whimpered in faint misery. -The room was utterly bare of any furniture save the poor substitutes -of a number of packing-cases of various sizes. The little home which -Jim had established, which Ann had worked so passionately to improve, -was a home no longer. It was merely a squalid shelter for squalid human -animals. - -Ann, on her knees by the child, looked up to the three figures in the -centre of the room, her attention suddenly challenged by the clash of -angry voices. - -A tall man, fierce, with a shock of untidy hair falling on a narrow -brow, a vivid red tie overwhelming the soft collar which kept it in -place, was pointing a quivering finger at her husband's breast. - -"You call yourself the leader of these men," he was saying, in a rage -of scorn, "and you flaunt that scrap of coloured rag--you advertise -your pride that you helped the bourgeois to fight his war! Take it -off, man--fling it down and trample on it! The red on it is the blood -of your fellow-workers!" - -"Aye, that's just what it is, Laurence," said the ex-soldier with -equal anger. "And I _am_ proud of it. I'm proud that I did my bit for -England--for England's ours, too, as well as the capitalists', and the -war was our war, the war of the crowd of us--and we went out and risked -our lives while you and your cowardly kind stayed at home and helped -the enemy all you could. That's your patriotism! And now to hear you -talk one would think England was an enemy country! I tell you it's our -country as much as anybody's and our war that we fought for it! The red -on this medal ribbon is the red of the blood of the chaps that died for -it if you like--and I'm mighty proud to wear it. And, by God, Laurence, -while I'm the leader of these poor chaps I won't have any traitor -talk--is that clear?" - -"Your country!" the other laughed bitterly. "What right have you got to -a ha'porth of it?--you, who are being chucked out into the street--you, -who haven't even the right to demand work and earn your bread! Bah! -Militarism has rotted the soul of you!" - -"It taught me to know a true man when I see him, anyway, Laurence--and -you're none o' that kind! You, poisoning the minds of starving men----" - -"And who keeps 'em starving? Who prevents 'em from helping themselves -in the nearest baker's shop----" - -"Now, lads--now, lads!" intervened the third man, a thick-set fellow -in black coat and turned-up trousers over yellow boots. A smug -self-confidence was native to his podgy countenance, was the complement -of the cunning, scheming eyes. "There's no use quarrelling. What we've -got to do is to 'elp each other--we working-men. The Union's _bust_, -Jim, an' that's the fact of it--an' if Mr. Laurence's organization 'ere -can't give us a 'and--well, I don't know what'll happen. This last -trick of 'Athaway's, chucking the whole street out o' doors, fairly -puts the lid on it!" - -There was silence in the room and Jim glanced round at the haggard -visage of his wife, bending, with tears on her cheeks, over the -whimpering child. - -"Yes, look!" said the tall man. "That's what you fought for, my lad!" - -Jim did not reply. He pressed his hand to his brow as though his brain -reeled. The Trade Union leader tried to profit by his silence. - -"We're properly up against it--there's no dodging it. Mind you, Jim, I -think there's a lot of reason in what Mr. Laurence says." - -Ann stood up quickly and faced her husband. - -"Jim!" she said, and her voice was firm though her chest heaved with -weakness. "You'll do what's right--whatever 'appens!" - -Laurence spoke again. - -"We're perfectly ready to help--but this is the last time of offering. -You know the terms. You're responsible for a good many hundreds of -starving families, Swain--they mayn't listen to you much longer, don't -forget----" - -He was interrupted by fierce shouts in the street below, the reiterated -blasts of a motor-horn, the crash of broken glass, a whir of machinery -and yet fiercer shouts. All three rushed to the window. Below them a -motor-car was stationary in the midst of a surging mob. The chauffeur -lay senseless amid the debris of a shattered wind-screen. In the rear -seat a youngish man was defending himself vigorously against the rain -of blows showered on him by the mob which clambered on to the vehicle. - -"My God! Captain Hathaway!" Even as Jim shouted he had turned to dash -down the stairs. - -He flung himself into the fierce mob as once before he had rushed at -the knot of Germans with bombs poised to throw, his captain an imminent -victim. Old instincts surged to supremacy--he fought his way blindly to -the car in a blur of blows. A second later he had dragged a dazed man -into the entrance of the house, had slammed the door. - -"Come on, sir--come upstairs and sit down." Jim forgot for the moment -the wretched room to which he invited him. He was living in a memory -of the trench days where he had sometimes dreamed that his beloved -captain might on some incredible occasion sit at tea with them in a -nice little home and tell Ann that her husband had been a good soldier. -Half supporting him, he pushed him into the apartment, pulled a box out -for him to sit on. - -"Here you are, sir. Take it easy for a minute. You'll soon be all -right." - -Captain Hathaway put his hand to a damp forehead, looked stupidly at -the blood on it, and then, still dazed, stared at his rescuer. - -"What?--Swain?" He smiled faintly. "For the second time, eh?" - -"Yes, sir--I'm glad to say!" - -The tall man picked up his soft hat, glaring from Jim to the employer -he had rescued. - -"Come on, Bruxby," he said, in a voice quivering with anger. "There's -nothing more for us here--the man's a d--d scab!" - -Jim listened to the heavy feet of the pair of them tramping down the -staircase. - -Captain Hathaway looked around him, then took a deep breath and stood -up. - -"I'm all right again now. It's all come back to me. Swain," he put his -hand on the man's shoulder, "will you believe me when I say I quite -understand--and that's it a shame, a d--d shame! I've been away. I -couldn't do anything till now." He looked at the woman by the cradle, -held out his hand. "This is Mrs. Swain?" She stood staring at him, -making no responsive movement. "Look here, I want to help--here"--his -hand dived into his pocket, fished up a bundle of notes--"why, you're -starving, woman!" He thrust them into her hand and she let them fall on -the floor. - -"I want work, Captain Hathaway--not charity," said Ann, shaking with -temptation resisted. - -The ex-officer turned to his man. - -"Swain," he said. "I haven't been blind to all this--but, believe me, I -couldn't do anything till now. I want to talk to you. Will you listen -to me?" - -It was some time later when Captain Hathaway (who had already seen his -chauffeur into a police ambulance while Jim harangued the crowd into -sullenness) drove his car down to the great gates of Hathaway's works. -Jim Swain, the men's leader, sat by his side. - - * * * * * - -In the long boardroom, with its thick Turkey carpet, its heavy mahogany -furniture, its framed photographs of former directors, the controllers -of Hathaway's and its linked houses sat already at the council-table. -The air was heavy with cigar smoke when Captain Hathaway entered. - -"Sorry I'm late, gentlemen--no,--a little accident--I'm quite all -right--nothing at all serious," so he responded to the queries evoked -by his cut forehead as he sat down. - -His father rose, pompous, full-cheeked, settling his pince-nez with -one hand, while he gathered together a little sheaf of papers with the -other. - -"Gentlemen," he said, "to-day I have to communicate to you officially -what I think all of you know privately--a communication which (hem!) -marks another epoch in the successful history of the house of -Hathaway. I have transferred to my son, Captain Hathaway--who has -not unsuccessfully graduated in the stern business of war--(Hear, -hear!)--my controlling interest in all the enterprises of which -hitherto I have been the head. I propose--and I believe you will second -me in this--that Captain Hathaway be duly elected to the board as -managing director." (It would have been difficult for the audience -to have disputed this had they wished. There was a unanimous "Hear, -hear!") Sir Thomas Hathaway passed a bulky envelope across to his son. -"Here, Harry, I give you all the deeds of transfer, duly executed and -dated as from yesterday. You are now the head of Hathaway and Company!" -There was a faint sketch of a cheer from the fat old gentlemen round -the table. - -"Now, gentlemen," continued the retiring chief, "before I sit down, -I should like to give you some account of my stewardship. I think -we all of us perceived in the circumstances of the present time an -opportunity to settle, once and for all, our score with Labour. That -opportunity has not been neglected. All the factories controlled by -us, in agreement with the other houses in the trade--which have most -loyally backed our action--have been shut down. The date of their -reopening has not yet been decided upon, but I may tell you this, -gentlemen, the Trade Union with which we have had so much trouble in -the past is _bankrupt_. We are entitled to industrial peace, on our -own terms--but the terms which we have offered, and which were not -ungenerous in the circumstances after safeguarding our interests, have -been stubbornly rejected by the men's leader--the man Swain. This -left us no alternative but to put on the screw--and we have replied -by serving notices of ejection on all those of our ex-employees who -are behindhand in their rent. I think you will agree with me that in -this we have the fullest justice on our side! (Hear, hear!) And now, -gentlemen, I retire from my managing directorship and make way for my -son, in the fullest confidence that he will maintain and extend the -great and honourable traditions of this business." - -Captain Hathaway stood up. His face was strangely pale and set. - -"Gentlemen, you have listened to my father's remarks. They represent -accurately the theory of our past relationship between ourselves and -our employees. (Hear, hear!) But, gentlemen, I want to bring home to -you that it is a theory quite impossible to maintain at the present -day! In accepting the leadership of this house, I am fully conscious -of my responsibilities--responsibilities not only to you who have -financial interests in the business, but to those who live by the -employment we offer them and to the State which makes it possible for -them to work and for ourselves to derive profit from that work. From -this day, gentlemen, and for so long as I am head of this firm, our -relations with our employees are on a different basis. The factories -will reopen to-morrow--at the old Trade Union rates, excepting where -the new rates I have offered to the men are more remunerative to them. -The policy of the firm is reversed!" - -Captain Hathaway, in all his experience of war, had never felt the need -of all his courage so much as in making this announcement--which, to -himself, sounded brutally bald. - -One of the directors rose, banging nervously upon the table with his -fist, and shaking with rage. - -"By God!" he said, "I never thought Tom Hathaway's boy would be a -traitor!" - -Sir Thomas Hathaway half rose, and sat down again--looking as though he -were going to faint. - -Another of the directors stood up. - -"Has our new managing director any other harmless little proposals to -make?" he asked, in bitter sarcasm. - -"Yes," replied Captain Hathaway, "I propose to take powers to create -a new Deferred Stock which will rank for dividend after the Ordinary -Stock has received eight per cent, but which will in all circumstances -carry a right to vote on the board--and this stock will be vested in -the representatives of our employees, chosen by them." - -"It will never be agreed to by the men!" cried a voice. - -"It _is_ agreed to already by the men's representatives," replied the -new chief, feeling the coolness of courage return to him as once when -he had faced the mob of Germans. - -The wealthiest of the directors, a man associated with other houses in -the trade, rose in his turn. - -"I warn you, Hathaway, that I shall dispose of my interests in this -business--and I'm going to fight you to the last shilling! You'll be -broke in a year!" "All of us! All of us!" came a chorus of approval. -"We'll all fight! This is sheer madness!" - -"Fight, if you will, gentlemen," said Hathaway calmly. "It won't pay -you. I haven't been idle these three months. I may tell you that I -have contracts in my pocket that will keep us going for many months -to come--more than a year. The whole world is shrieking for goods, and -Germany is supplying them--capturing your markets while you commit -suicide in trying to get the better of Labour. In these last months I -have established agents all over the world--and I've got the orders! -I know what the other houses have got--I know what's open to you--you -_can't_ fight us!--but you'll be taken over by the Government if your -obstinacy continues this unworthy industrial strife." - -There was a silence of vague-headed, angry old men who did not quite -know what to say. - -"And now, gentlemen," continued Hathaway. "Let me plead for a better -spirit. That great mass of human beings you coldly call Labour fought -for England just as I fought for England, just as thousands and -thousands of our own class fought. We've been together in the trenches -year in year out and we've learnt to know each other, not as hostile -abstractions, but as living men,--good men, the most of us. We learnt -all sorts of things we didn't realize before the war, but most of -all we learnt--and when I say we, _I mean your sons as well_--that -we're all Englishmen and that we all have to play the game and stick -together--officer and man. D'you think I who have watched over the -comfort of my men, taught them, led them into danger and seen them -unafraid, who have hungered with them, thirsted with them, gloried in -them for these last long years--d'you think I can coldly condemn those -men and their wives and children to starvation now? D'you think I can -treat them as an enemy? I can't. And the men who have been proud of -us, their officers,--d'you think they haven't learnt the value of -leadership? They have--but not the leadership of a slave-master. In the -long bitter years of strife those men have won for themselves a freedom -of soul which is the life-force of a free Empire! Class-hatred! It has -vanished as between officer and man. We're all Englishmen together--and -we're going to work, share and share alike, in the new England, that, -share and share alike, we fought for!" He flung open the door behind -him. "Here, gentlemen, is Jim Swain, the leader of your work-people in -their time of trouble. He saved my life twice--once in the trenches -and got a D.C.M. when he ought to have had the V.C.--and again to-day -when he set a seal of comradeship between the managing director and the -employees of Hathaway's. Together, he and I, and those we represent, -are going to make our patch of England worth the lives that were spent -to save it!" - -There was a hush in the room, and into that hush came the strains of a -military band playing a regiment to the neighbouring railway station. -It played the familiar marching tune of the old days, and a flaw of -wind brought masculine voices in the uplift of the chorus. - - "... There's a silver lining - Through the dark clouds shining, - Turn the dark cloud inside out, - For the boys are home!" - -"They're coming back!" cried Captain Hathaway. "Coming back in their -thousands and their millions--officers and men--your sons at the -head of the men they have learned to love! Comrades that can never -be estranged! We're the new generation, gentlemen--the old order has -gone--never to return--we've come back, Swain and I, from the borders -of death that has taught us how precious life may be." - -The heads, bald and florid, of that obese elder generation turned in -a community of curious interest, to gaze at Swain--the man who had -nerved his fellows to withstand an economic pressure they had thought -irresistible and was now hailed as comrade by their own young chief. - -The ex-soldier took a step forward. - -"I should just like to say this, sirs--we men know what it is to have -good officers--and we've never let 'em down. We've come back, officers -and men, and officers like Captain Hathaway will always find their -men work for them as they used to fight--for officers like him make -us feel the Old Country is worth working for as it was worth fighting -for. We've learnt to play the game--and we'll play it so long as we -have fair play. The British soldier has learnt to die rather than -surrender--and the British soldier is just the British working-man." - - - - PRINTED BY - WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD - PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLEWRACK*** - - -******* This file should be named 60530-8.txt or 60530-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/0/5/3/60530 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Britten (Frederick Britten) Austin</title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.small { - font-size: small} - -.medium { - font-size: medium} - -.large { - font-size: large} - -.x-large { - font-size: x-large} - - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} -.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} -.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} - -.ph1, .ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; /*font-weight: bold;*/ } -.ph1 { font-size: xx-large; margin: .67em auto; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } -.ph5 { font-size: small; margin: 1.12em auto; text-align: center;} -.ph6 { font-size: x-small; margin: 1.12em auto; text-align: center; } -.hang { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 2em} - -p.drop:first-letter { - font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, serif; - font-size: xx-large; - line-height: 70%} - -.uppercase { - font-size: small; - text-transform: uppercase} - - - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%;} -hr.chap {width: 65%} -hr.full {width: 95%;} - -hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -hr.r65 {width: 65%; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;} - - - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - - .tdl {text-align: left;} - .tdr {text-align: right;} - .tdc {text-align: center;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - - - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - - -.bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} - -.bl {border-left: solid 2px;} - -.bt {border-top: solid 2px;} - -.br {border-right: solid 2px;} - -.bbox {border: solid 2px;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.u {text-decoration: underline;} - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - -@media handheld { - .hidehand {display: none; visibility: hidden;} -} - - - hr.pg { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Battlewrack, by F. Britten (Frederick -Britten) Austin</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Battlewrack</p> -<p>Author: F. Britten (Frederick Britten) Austin</p> -<p>Release Date: October 20, 2019 [eBook #60530]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLEWRACK***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by Tim Lindell, Graeme Mackreth,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/battlewrack00austrich"> - https://archive.org/details/battlewrack00austrich</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pg" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<p class="ph1">BATTLEWRACK</p> - -<div class="hidehand"> -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /> -</p></div> - - - -<p class="ph2">BATTLEWRACK</p> - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 5em;">BY</p> - -<p class="ph3">F. BRITTEN AUSTIN</p> - -<p class="ph6">AUTHOR OF "IN ACTION," "THE SHAPING OF LAVINIA"</p> - -<p class="ph4" style="margin-top: 10em;">HODDER AND STOUGHTON</p> -<p class="ph5">LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO</p> - - - - - - - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 10em;">TO</p> -<p class="ph4">CHARLES F. GABB</p> -<p class="ph5">IN HIS PRIVATE AFFECTIONS<br /> -THE PATTERN OF STINTLESS FRIENDSHIP<br /> -IN HIS SELFLESS PATRIOTISM<br /> -THE MODEL OF A TRUE ENGLISHMAN<br /> -THESE SKETCHES OF HUMANITY AT STRIFE -ARE DEDICATED<br /> -IN THE GRATITUDE OF A LONG MEMORY</p> - - - - - -<p class="ph2" style="margin-top: 10em;">CONTENTS</p> - - - - - -<table summary="toc" width="60%"> -<tr> -<td></td><td align="right"> PAGE</td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_BATTERY_1914"><span class="smcap">The Battery (1914)</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#PRO_PATRIA"><span class="smcap">Pro Patria</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#NERVES"><span class="smcap">Nerves!</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_AIR_SCOUT_1914"><span class="smcap">The Air Scout (1914)</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#KULTUR_1915"><span class="smcap">Kultur (1915)</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_MAGIC_OF_MUHAMMED_DIN"><span class="smcap">The Magic of Muhammed Din</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_OTHER_SIDE"><span class="smcap">The Other Side</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#NA_NOS"><span class="smcap">Na Nos</span>!</a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_151">151</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#PER_LA_PIU_GRANDE_ITALIA"><span class="smcap">Per la Più Grande Italia!</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#PANZERKRAFTWAGEN"><span class="smcap">Panzerkraftwagen!</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#NACH_VERDUN"><span class="smcap">Nach Verdun!</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_214">214</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THE_CHATELAINE_OF_LYSBOISEE"><span class="smcap">The Châtelaine of Lysboisée</span></a></td> <td align="right"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#THEY_COME_BACK"><span class="smcap">They Come Back</span></a></td><td align="right"> <a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> -</table> - - - - -<p>Practically all these stories have appeared in the <i>Strand Magazine</i>, -<i>Pearson's Magazine</i>, <i>Pall Mall Magazine</i>, or <i>The Sphere</i>. To the -Editors of these periodicals I tender my acknowledgments.</p> - -<p>It is fair to state that some of these stories, in particular "The -Battery," "The Air Scout," "Pro Patria," "Nerves," were written and in -some cases appeared before the present War.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="THE_BATTERY_1914" id="THE_BATTERY_1914">THE BATTERY (1914)</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> sun hung in the mists of morning, swollen, blood-red, a symbol of -augury, as the artillery brigade pulled out of the village where it had -been billeted for the night. At the tail of its long line of slowly -moving vehicles marched a compact column of brown-clad infantry. In -front moved a squadron of cavalry. The lieutenant-colonel commanding -the brigade trotted smartly past the batteries with his staff. Fresh -from an interview with the divisional artillery commander, he tried -not to look preoccupied and anxious as he met the searching eyes of -his men. From an unknown distance a dull thud, irregularly repeated, -vibrated through the dense atmosphere. The colonel raised his head -sharply to listen. The men in the column exchanged glances full of -meaning.</p> - -<p>The dull concussions continued, but the column did not increase its -pace. The long line of guns and wagons rolled onward at a steady walk, -amid a jangle of chains and harness. The gunners on the limbers smoked -and talked. Occasionally there was a burst of laughter. It seemed that -that ominous thudding was a summons which concerned them not at all. -In the fog which drifted in patches across the road its origin seemed -enormously remote.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> - -<p>The junior subaltern of the third and last battery in the column heard -the sound with less indifference. Each of those muffled shocks came -to him like a knock upon his heart. He listened for them anxiously -and shuddered, in spite of himself, as the air vibrated on his ears. -He needed none to tell him their meaning, novel though the sound was -to him. They were the first long shots of the opening battle. As he -listened, blindfold as it were in that fog, his animal tissues shrunk -at this menace of an untried experience, while at the same time another -part of him, the dominant, grew fretfully anxious lest the battery was -too far in rear, lest they should be too late. The conflict of these -opposing impulses in him made him nervous and fidgety. He wanted to -talk to someone, to discuss the situation, to exchange opinions upon a -host of possibilities. He looked longingly at the No. 1 of the leading -gun of his section as he walked his horse at the side of the leaders -and chatted quietly to the driver. The sergeant appeared so calm, so -strong with already acquired experience. He felt almost irresistibly -impelled to enter into conversation with him—opening phrases kept -coming to his tongue—but a shame at the weakness of his own nerve -restrained him. He braced himself with a thought of his rank and -responsibilities and remained silent. The subaltern was new to war and -new to the battery. He had come straight from the "Shop" with a draft -of men to replace the wastage of the last battle. He was very young -and, until that morning, very proud of himself.</p> - -<p>Unexpectedly, the column halted. Why? The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> subaltern chafed. It was -intolerable to idle there upon the road with that urgent summons -momentarily shaking the air. The concussions followed one another -much more quickly now and came with a sharper sound. They seemed to -run all along a wide arc stretched far to right and left in front of -him. Occasionally they came in heavy salvos that swallowed the noise -of isolated shots. He could see nothing. The fog lay thick upon the -road, a white curtain against which danced black specks as he strained -his eyes at it. The column stood still and silent. Only a jingling -of chains arose as the horses nosed at each other. Presently, as the -passengers in a fog-bound train hear the rumble of the other train for -which they wait, a sound came to him out of the mist and explained the -halt. It was the hollow rhythmic tramp of infantry. The sound increased -and then maintained itself at a uniform pitch. In the distance the -artillery salvos followed one another ever more quickly, peal on peal -of thunder. Still the hollow beat of boots upon the road continued. The -subaltern swore to himself. Were they to wait there while the entire -army passed? At last the hollow sound diminished, died down, ceased. A -sharply uttered order ran down the column. The line of vehicles moved -on again.</p> - -<p>For a long time they marched through the fog, drawing ever nearer -to the cannonade. There were no more halts. Nevertheless it seemed -to the subaltern that their progress was wilfully, culpably slow. -As a matter of fact, the column, responding to the magnetism of -battle, had involuntarily quickened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> pace. The physical anxiety of -the subaltern communicated itself to, and was misinterpreted by, his -brain. He imagined that he was concerned wholly for the fate of the -army if deprived of the valuable support of the brigade to which -he was attached. He conceived enormous disasters hinging on their -non-appearance. Suddenly he noticed, with surprise, that his knees were -trembling against the saddle, his hands shaking as they held the reins. -This discovery startled him. His anxiety for the army was obliterated -by another. Could he be sure of himself? A spasm of alarm shot through -him. Would that calm mysterious higher self in him lose control? He had -a glimpse of himself in a whirlwind of sensations, a maddened animal -dashing to escape. It must not be. He exercised his volition as an -athlete exercises a muscle, testing it. Desperately, he willed himself -to immobility. The tremor in his limbs did not cease. He agonised -lest someone should perceive it. Sweat broke out on his forehead. -Nevertheless his brain was clear. He held fast to that. Never mind -what his body did, at all costs his brain must be kept clear and cool. -Engaged in these introspections he forgot the fog, forgot the lagging -brigade, forgot the ever-swelling uproar in front of him.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the mist broke, rolled away from a sunlit landscape. They -were at the summit of a slight elevation. About them was open country, -dotted with trees and farms. In front the road dropped and then -mounted. He looked over the heads of the artillery-men before him -and saw a long column of infantrymen ascending the further hill. It -was for that column that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> the brigade had waited. The recognition -of the fact reawakened perception through a linked memory. He heard -again the pealing thunder of the guns, to which for some minutes he -had been oblivious. Instantly an intense, anxious curiosity took -possession of him. Where were they fighting? In the fog his mind had -formed a picture of lines of guns coughing out flame and noise at -each other, desperately in conflict, just at the other side of the -curtain drawn before his eyes. Now, the veil dropped, he looked at -reality and only so much of the picture persisted as to puzzle him. -Save for the column marching ahead there was no sign of life in that -open countryside. Yet the air was full of sound. No longer was it a -series of dull concussions. It was one vast, continuous, ringing roar, -broken at intervals by the sound of violent fracture as a puff of wind -came to his cheek. Excitedly, he strained his eyes at the distances, -seeking some point where he could localise the conflict. There was -nothing. Yes! Far ahead of him, beyond the hill which the infantry were -climbing, a faint haze of smoke hung in the air. In that haze tiny -puffs sprang into being and spread lazily. There, then! Encouraged, -his gaze searched the landscape. Far to his left, over a little wood -that closed the view, hung another such haze, and, as his eyes ranged -over the country, he saw a line of smoke-puffs leap from nowhere above -a hill to his right. The line was constantly renewed until the smoke -trailed across the blue sky like a cloud. A thrill ran through him. He -forgot himself, lost all memory of his doubts. He quivered, but it was -with eagerness to rush into the fight. Oh, to mount that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> hill and see -what was happening! The infantry drew up over it, disappeared beyond -the summit like a snake drawing in its tail. The artillery crawled -onward.</p> - -<p>He was calculating the minutes that must elapse before their arrival on -the crest when suddenly his hopes were dashed. The brigade was turning -off along a by-road to the left. Baulked of his desire, he swore -savagely, almost with tears. A man on the limber near him looked up in -sharp surprise. He desisted, clenching his teeth. Inwardly he raged. -As he too swung round the corner, his back to the direction of the -smoke-cloud he had so excitedly watched, it seemed that he was turning -out of the battle. The brigade moved for some distance along that road -and then halted, drawn close in to the hedge. Behind them swelled the -noise of tramping infantry, growing louder. The men who had followed -them were going to pass. They came, swinging along at a good pace, -steadily rhythmic. They passed, endlessly. The subaltern found himself -gazing curiously at the faces of men in the stream. Some were stern and -set, some laughed carelessly, some shouted jokes to the artillery-men, -many were strangely haggard and drawn. He noticed one man who gazed at -nothing with a rapt expression. His lips were moving. He was praying. -They were going into battle. The subaltern was again aware of the -thunder of the guns.</p> - -<p>The brigade waited. The tramp of the infantry had long since ceased. -They seemed alone, forgotten, on the road. Suddenly an order was passed -down the column. The subaltern repeated it, almost before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> he was aware -that he had heard it. "No. 3 Section—Prepare for action!" Instantly -the gun detachments leaped to the ground. The breech and muzzle covers -were removed and strapped to the front of the gun shields. The breech, -the firing mechanism, the ranging gear, the sights were swiftly -examined. The men on the ammunition wagons tested the opening of the -lids, looked to the fuse indicator, saw that the fuses were at safety. -These things done, they resumed their seats. The subaltern's heart beat -fast. Now?</p> - -<p>Minute after minute passed. The brigade waited in all readiness to -move. Presently the order came. "Walk!—March!—Trot!" They passed -quickly along the road. The subaltern looked ahead, saw his battery -leader turn through a gate into a broad meadow on the right. The other -batteries were turning into the field further up. He lost sight of one -of them. He arrived at the gate, wheeled into it. "By the left—Form -Battery Column!" The subsections of single guns drew out and up level -with the other gun of the section, each with its following wagon. -The first line or reserve wagons dropped behind. The battery trotted -smartly forward across the field. It was a large meadow, unintersected -by hedge or ditch, rising gently to the ridge whereto their original -road had climbed. At the summit was a small copse. Far in front the -subaltern saw a group of horsemen riding swiftly towards it. He knew -it for the colonel and his staff. Between him and them was a mounted -figure, halted, and, some distance further away, another figure. It was -the battery commander and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> the sergeant-major marking the position of -the battery and the line of fire. The battery went on. The ridge was -looming up close in front. "By the left—Form Line!" The guns wheeled -into a long line. Their accompanying wagons slackened speed, fell some -forty yards in rear. "Walk!—Halt!—Action Front!" The guns stopped. -The detachments leaped down. Two men seized the gun-trail, unhooked it -from the limber, gave the order "Limber drive on!" The horses trotted -quickly round in a half-circle and went to the rear. The trail was -carried round, reversing the gun. A moment later the attendant wagon -came up, placing itself close on the left, its axle a little in rear -of the gun-axle. About each gun in the line there was a second or two -of busy movement. The No. 1 threw back the traversing lever, laid the -gun approximately in the true direction, noted the level of the wheels. -Others lowered the shield, put on the brakes, fixed the sights. Two -others opened the ammunition wagon and half withdrew a number of rounds -in readiness. The subaltern's horseholder came up. As he surrendered -his mount he felt that he was stepping into the arena.</p> - -<p>He looked along the line of guns. The detachments of each were in -position, motionless—No. 1 kneeling on the left side of the trail, 2 -on the seat on the right-hand side, 3 on the left, 4 kneeling behind 3, -5 and 6 kneeling in rear of the wagon by the gun. At the right-hand end -of the line was the battery commander. In front of him a wagon-limber -had been placed for his protection. Up the hill-side men were swiftly -paying out a telephone wire. A lieutenant and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> couple of look-out men -were cantering up to join the party now halted at the side of the copse.</p> - -<p>The subaltern turned to see the captain of the battery at his side. He -smiled and nodded. "How do you feel?" he asked. "Shivery?" The captain -was in command of the first-line wagons in reserve. He stood near the -battery to watch the expenditure of ammunition.</p> - -<p>The subaltern placed himself behind the wagon of his gun nearest the -commander, and waited, stiffly erect. He felt himself tingling with -eagerness, yet he could scarcely bring himself to believe that this -was battle. It might have been parade. He forgot the all-swallowing -roar about him, remembered only that he was in command of those two -guns, was responsible that they dealt out death coolly, accurately, -scientifically.</p> - -<p>The telephone was complete. A man knelt on the ground near the battery -commander, the receiver to his ear. Almost immediately there was a -sharp order. "Lines of Fire!" From each gun a man ran out quickly -towards the ridge with a couple of black and white posts. He planted -them in line and ran back. The angle of sight was passed down the -battery. The gun-barrels moved slightly, aiming at the invisible -enemy. Despite the ceaseless roar with which the air trembled, a -hush of expectancy seemed to lie over the line of guns. Other orders -came quickly down the battery from the commander. "Angle of sight -1·25´ elevation."—"Collective."—"Corrector 154."—"4100." No. 6 of -each gun called out the fuze. Five set it, passed the shell to 4 who -pushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> it into the breech. Two closed the breech and adjusted the -range indicator. Three laid the gun and sat with his hand on the firing -lever. "Ready."</p> - -<p>"Fire!" The No. 1 of the first gun repeated the order. Three pulled -the lever sharply upwards. A long tongue of flame spurted out of the -muzzle with a deafening report. The gun-barrel shot violently back -under its hydraulic buffer and was in place again ere the eye could -well note the movement. The other two guns of the right half-battery -fired successively at three seconds' interval. The men at the telephone -received a message. It was transmitted as orders to the battery. "No. -1—30 degrees more right. No. 2—20 degrees more right, No. 3—30 -degrees more right." "Left half—30 degrees more right.—Corrector -162.—4300." The three shells already fired had gone too far to the -left. "Fire." The subaltern heard the order of the sergeant on his -right. "No. 4—Fire!" Then his own sergeants, "No. 5—Fire!" "No. -6—Fire!" He thrilled at the loud explosions. He was in action! He -was flattered to find how clear his mind was, how steady his nerve. -He supervised the laying of the guns as the next order came down the -line. "Corrector 158—4350.—One round battery fire." At five seconds' -interval the six guns fired one after the other. There was a wait. Had -they found the range? Yes! "Section Fire—10 seconds." He was engrossed -with his two guns as they were swiftly loaded and fired at the interval -ordered.</p> - -<p>Away to his left the other two batteries of the brigade were firing -likewise. The rapid, violent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> reports of the line of guns overlapped, -merged into one long-drawn-out explosion that intensified spasmodically -as two or more fired at the same instant. The clamour of the general -battle was obscured, forgotten. The subaltern glanced at the bare -hill in front of him, over which the shells from the brigade were -streaming at the rate of one hundred and eight a minute. On what were -they falling, two and a half miles away? A straggling thought in him -found leisure for the question while yet the main forces of his mind -were concentrated on the busy detachments and the guns they served. He -had scarce noted it when an order was passed down the battery. "Stand -fast." Immediately there was silence. Only a faint haze spread and -thinned between the gun-muzzles and the ridge to show that they had -been at work. What of the distant, invisible target? The captain, who -had been standing by the battery commander, passed on his way to the -wagons. The subaltern stopped him.</p> - -<p>"What was it?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Battery coming into action—just caught 'em—wiped out," answered the -captain laconically and hurried on.</p> - -<p>The subaltern stared—horror-stricken involuntarily. Wiped out! He -tried to imagine the wreckage of that battery overwhelmed in a few -instants by a rain of shells coming from they knew not whence. He -failed. In that meadow, strangely quiet now despite a terrific din that -welled up from over the ridge, he could not picture it. The hill in -front was a wall across his vision.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> - -<p>The brigade waited, but no further orders came. For the moment their -work was done. The guns stretched across the field, their muzzles -elevated, like a row of silent, expectant dogs. The lieutenant -commanding the adjacent section came up and asked the subaltern for a -cigarette. The subaltern gave it, repressing a smile. That lieutenant -never had any cigarettes.</p> - -<p>As he relaxed from the strain of those few furious minutes the -subaltern felt suddenly hungry. He remembered that he had filled a -pocket with biscuits and munched at one as he gazed idly along the -battery. Fitfully his mind returned to the brief activity of his guns -and he contemplated the recollection with comfort. Never had he lost -mastery over himself. He was a man tried and proved.</p> - -<p>With a vague dull curiosity he watched the group by the wood on the -hill above him. Members of it were moving to and fro. He noticed one -figure standing with both hands up to his face, his elbows sticking -out. He was examining something through his glasses. The subaltern -wondered whether it was the colonel and the thought came to him that on -a word from that man he and his fellows might be hurried to death as if -to execution. Every minute, orderlies rode at speed up to the group.</p> - -<p>Presently an order came to the battery. It opened fire again, this time -deliberately, without haste, at 2500 yards and in a slightly different -direction. Again the subaltern appealed to the captain for information.</p> - -<p>"Infantry advancing. We've only got a screen there. Sixth Corps coming -into action on our right.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> We're filling the gap between it and the -Second Corps. Enemy are trying to break through."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said the subaltern, "we're in for a hot time, I suppose." He said -it carelessly, without any idea of what was coming.</p> - -<p>"We most certainly are," said the captain. The emphasis of the reply -startled the subaltern, made him feel uneasy. He devoted himself to -his guns in an effort to banish the anxiety which threatened him. The -gun-squads were working with unhurried precision. A man kneeling behind -the wagon drew out the long projectile, set the fuze, passed the shell -to his fellow at the gun, the breech was closed, the lever pulled, and -the gun spoke with an exactly equal interval between rounds. They might -have been feeding a machine in a factory, so regular, so unemotional -was the operation. Behind the wagon the ground was littered with the -canvas cartridge clips. Behind the gun the flung-back brass cartridge -cases mounted to a heap. In front the air was blurry with gases. -Away to the right a new series of reports broke out. More batteries -had evidently come into action. Coalescing all individual sounds the -general clamour of the battle swelled in surges of hideous noise from -one deep-toned, continuous roar. The subaltern became habituated to it, -scarcely noticed it.</p> - -<p>Happening to look round he saw a howitzer battery coming into the -field. A few minutes later the regular sequence of its detonations told -him it had got to work. It was evident that troops were being hurried -up to meet the threatened attack. Along the hill-side to the right a -line of infantry was strung out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> advancing towards the wood. Another -followed it. When he turned again he saw more infantry entering the -field and deploying. He got a glimpse of the road filled with brown -caps that just showed above the hedges. Almost immediately the battery -ceased fire. Only the periodic discharges of the howitzers continued. -The battery commander was kneeling over a map spread upon the ground. -Up by the little wood a heliograph was flashing rapidly. A little -further on a couple of men were flag-wagging with vigour. Some crisis -was approaching. Behind him the infantry commenced to advance. On his -left front a couple of men spurred horses up the flank of the bare -hill-side.</p> - -<p>The infantry passed the battery in their advance, the company that had -remained in column to avoid the guns deploying into the line. Another -line of supports followed and behind them another. They went steadily -up the hill, the two scouts from the battery passing through them as -they galloped back. The subaltern thrilled with a sense of imminent -danger. As yet he had seen no shell burst. Now it was going to begin. -The howitzer battery still fired over the heads of the advancing troops.</p> - -<p>Up and up went the first line. The subaltern watched it with a -throbbing heart. It opened its files as it went, and, when nearly -to the crest, broke into a steady run. It reached the summit. For -a moment it showed black against the sky. Now? Nothing. The line -disappeared over the hill. The second line mounted, doubled, showed -against the sky and instantly a crowd of smoke-puffs leaped into the -air<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> above it. He saw tiny figures knocked all ways to the ground and -immediately afterwards a run of sharp crashes came to his ears. The -line disappeared over the hill, leaving behind figures that lay still -and figures that tried to crawl out of the way of the third line. He -watched them, fascinated, through his glasses. The third line advanced, -undaunted. The crowd of smoke-puffs broke out again ere it reached the -summit and continued while it passed. When it had gone, the subaltern -noted an increase in the number of prostrate figures. Behind him more -infantry collected in the field but no more advanced. The hostile -shrapnel continued to burst over an empty hill-side. Presently it -ceased. From the other side of the hill arose a furious, feverish -crackling, noticeable even in the general uproar. The battery waited -for it knew not what.</p> - -<p>Slightly wounded men began to trickle down the hill-side. One passed -close to the subaltern, lurching unsteadily. He was bleeding profusely -from a wound in the head. He stopped, swaying from side to side, and -looked at the lieutenant with a glare of idiocy. "Hell," he said with -sombre simplicity, "Hell," and then went on without waiting for a -reply. The lieutenant was inexpressibly shocked. It made him feel ill. -He turned and saw the wounded man walking like one blind, hands out, -across the field. The one word, "Hell," rang in his ears. He nibbled at -another biscuit to steady his stomach. "Pretty rotten that," he said -to himself, striving to get rid of the sensation by classifying it. -"Rotten."</p> - -<p>Then the orders came. The gun-teams dashed up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> and in a few moments -the battery was moving at speed to its left across the meadows. Its -route was a diagonal directed on the ridge. It went in all haste. Its -half-depleted wagons had been replaced by full ones from the first -lines. The subaltern felt that he was rushing towards a crisis. He was -strangely exhilarated as he galloped on towards a line of trees that -rose to the ridge at right angles. A gate showed in the line of trees -and beyond the gate a road. The battery slackened speed, dashed through -the gate, vehicle after vehicle, and turned to the right towards the -ridge. The road was narrow, walled with high hedges and overhanging -elms. It mounted to a shrub-filled notch on the height. There the -battery was halted. The half-filled wagons now composing the first -line drew into cover. The battery-commander and several men rode on. -The battery waited, screened by the wooded crest of the hill. From the -unseen landscape in front arose an appalling tumult of sound. It was -like the noise of a colossal conflagration; the roar of flames, and the -crackle of burning woodwork enormously magnified.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the battery moved on again. Quickly it mounted the crest and -dipped down on the other side. Again a gate on the right hand and in -a moment the battery was racing at full speed across a stubble-field. -A hundred yards ahead galloped the commander. To their left was open -country, full of sound. Above them, over the ridge upon their right, -a run of sharp explosions broke out. The subaltern heard them without -heeding. He shouted encouragement to his men as they dashed across the -field,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> though his voice was scarcely audible to himself. He was in a -whirl of excitement. Life hung on every second.</p> - -<p>"Halt!" The guns stopped, were unlimbered and reversed in an instant. -The teams raced back to cover. The wagons dashed up beside their guns. -Around them one or two shells burst harmlessly upon the ground, like -the first heavy raindrops which precede the storm. It broke. Overhead -the sky collapsed with a fearful crash. The subaltern saw a myriad -spouts of dust leap up from the stubble, saw his most trusted sergeant -fall like a sack across the gun-trail. There was another riving crash -overhead. The subaltern turned to hear an order megaphoned from the -sergeant-major at the end of the line. "Guns in Action—Just below -Church." He whipped out his glasses, focussed quickly for the church, -saw a row of pin-points of flame flicker along a hedge. A moment later -the air in front of him was shaken by a group of crashes, followed on -the instant by a long, high-pitched drone. In the middle of it he heard -the megaphone. "3350 yards—Corrector 140." The men worked desperately -at the guns, like sailors in a blinding storm. The shrapnel beat down -among them like hail, ringing on the shields. "Section Control." The -subaltern gave the order. "Fire!" The whole battery fired swiftly, his -guns among the first. He watched the distant hedge below the church -through his glasses, saw a crowd of smoke-puffs burst over it even -as the flame-points flickered again. He shouted an alteration of the -corrector and his voice was swallowed by the crash of the hostile<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> -shells. Again the shrapnel droned, flicked up the dust around him. He -heeded it not. He saw a man roll over with a shell in his hands. He -sprang to him, seized the shell, thrust it into the breech without -the loss of a second. Rapidly the guns fired. Away to his right he -heard the quick detonations of the other guns and again the crash -of bursting shrapnel. He gazed again at the distant hedge. It was a -duel between that battery and his. Extinction was the portion of the -one which failed in speed and accuracy. With a savage thrill he saw -a high shaft of flame spout up behind the hedge. A shell—he claimed -it as his—had plumped into an ammunition wagon and exploded. Wrought -to fever-pitch, the artillery-men loaded and fired. A cloud of dust -hung about each gun, obscuring the view, stabbed every few seconds -by a sharp thrust of flame. Down the hill-side the smoke of shrapnel -which had burst too low drifted close to the ground like steam from a -passing locomotive. Away in the distance, along that hedge—the men -in the battery saw only that, were oblivious to all else—a cloud of -smoke gathered, grew thicker every instant. Under it the pin-points of -flame flickered with ever longer intervals between the flashes. Over -the battery on the hill the shrapnel burst with less and less of noise, -less and less of accuracy. The subaltern exulted. They were getting -the upper hand. He yelled stimulation to his men. His two guns fired -faster even than before, raining shells at the hedge. Suddenly he was -aware that the hostile shrapnel had ceased. Behind the hedge he saw a -cloud of dust arise. Their enemy was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> retiring at speed. He altered the -range, flung shells into the dust-cloud until it disappeared. "Battery -Control—Stand fast." The guns ceased fire.</p> - -<p>The subaltern turned to look at what he believed to be the wreckage -of his battery. It was littered with dead and dying men. A wagon lay -on its side, was being righted as he looked at it. Men pulled away -a body from underneath. Every vehicle in the line, guns and wagons, -was pock-marked with splashes of lead. The shield of one gun had -been neatly perforated by a shell and the crew of that gun lay about -it as they had been dispersed by the explosion. Their clothes were -still on fire. The subaltern was staring stupidly at them when the -lieutenant who never carried cigarettes approached. He opened his -mouth to speak—no doubt to ask for another cigarette—when suddenly -his expression changed to a sickly smile and he pitched forward. The -subaltern turned round in a flash of savage anger. This was murder. -They had finished fighting——</p> - -<p>"Infantry advancing across stream—1800 yards," came the stentorian -voice of the sergeant-major. The subaltern understood as he ran back -to his guns. It was to repel the infantry that they were there. The -duel with the other battery was merely an episode. He looked down into -the valley below him, saw that it was filled with little grey figures. -A stream bisected the mass. They were advancing quickly, in rushes, -apparently without opposition. Some of the foremost were lying down, -firing at the height. Below him, from origins that were hidden by a -fold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> of the ground, rose the noise of a fierce and sustained rifle -fire. The battery got to work again. Methodically, evenly, it sprayed -that advancing horde with shrapnel. Other batteries, invisible to them, -were helping, for a larger number of shells burst over the foe than -they accounted for. The vicious little puffs of smoke multiplied. The -subaltern watched their effect with cool, unemotional interest. It was -like striking into a mass of ants. Numbers sprawled; the multitude was -undiminished. He hurled his thunderbolts upon them like a god, himself -serenely unassailable. A half-contemptuous pity for them arose in him -but did not interfere with the exact performance of his duties. The men -at the guns laughed.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, without warning, the air above him was riven with a triple -crash. The familiar drone followed, was blotted out by a second -violent detonation. Gusts of smoke blew across the sky. A hail of -shrapnel bullets kicked up the dust, pattered on the guns. His cap was -knocked from his head by an invisible hand. A man at the gun sprang -up, performed a grotesque parody of a dervish-dance, twirled with -outstretched arms, and collapsed. Another sat for a second with both -hands to his head and fell back. For a moment the service of the guns -was suspended. The subaltern ran towards it, shouting. The diminished -crew bent grimly to their task. The overhead crashes of the shrapnel -came down in one continuous detonation. The bullets rained down upon -them in heavy showers. The hostile artillery had got their range -exactly. Where were they? The subaltern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> searched the distance for -gun-flashes. He saw none. Their enemy was invisible, snugly tucked -away somewhere. It would have profited little to have discovered them. -His orders were to fire at the infantry and at the infantry his two -guns fired, as fast as depleted squads could serve them. The rest of -the battery fired likewise. He did not see how many guns were still in -action, could not spare a moment to look. His attention was held by the -swarm of advancing figures. The hail of shrapnel was an agony at the -back of his consciousness; he ignored it, resolutely.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a horse pitched and rolled, kicking violently, at his feet. It -startled him. He had not seen it arrive. A man disengaged himself from -the struggling animal, stood up and shot it dead with his revolver. It -was the captain.</p> - -<p>"In—command—at the infantry—section control—carry on," he panted, -and ran to his place at the end of the line.</p> - -<p>The battery commander was killed then! The thought flashed across his -mind, was lost in the urgent business of the moment. He shortened -the range, altered the corrector, aiming at the nearer edge of the -approaching infantry. A moment later three or four men arrived at a -sprint and reported themselves. The subaltern heard without emotion -that more had started, would never arrive. He detailed them. The -discharges of the guns followed faster.</p> - -<p>How long this phase lasted the subaltern never knew. Ordinary standards -of time could not measure that nightmare where he constantly shortened -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> range, hurled unavailing thunders at an inexorably advancing -flood. He remembered the moment of agony when he saw that they were -running out of ammunition, the joyous relief when the first-line -ammunition-wagons raced up and stopped at the right hand of the -guns. Under a pall of smoke from the bursting shells he saw his -gun-crews dwindling, each man doing the work of two, of three. Once -a heavy explosion on the ground attracted his attention. It was the -commencement of a series. Choking fumes, now black, now yellowish, -drifted over him. A howitzer battery had joined their assailants, was -firing high explosive. Exasperated, he searched the distances for a -glimpse of the hostile guns. He saw no sign of them. They were being -overwhelmed, as they themselves had overwhelmed the battery he had not -seen, by foes whose concealment he could not even guess at.</p> - -<p>Suddenly—how, he knew not—the word was passed to him: "In command." -He ran to the end of the line, found the sergeant-major crouching -behind the wagon-limber. Blood was running from a diagonal bullet-score -across his face. Close by were the bodies of his predecessors in -command.</p> - -<p>"Four guns in action, sir," said the sergeant-major. "Brigade -commander's orders: 'Hold our ground.'"</p> - -<p>"How long ago?" queried the subaltern.</p> - -<p>"Some time," was the reply. "Not sure—but think the colonel and staff -are killed, sir."</p> - -<p>The subaltern looked along the line of guns, frowned at the tiny groups -of gunners.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Where's the observing party?"</p> - -<p>"At the guns, sir."</p> - -<p>"Rangetakers? Horseholders?" He had to shout to be heard in the -continuous crashing of the shells.</p> - -<p>"At the guns. Every man in action, sir, except with the horses under -cover."</p> - -<p>The subaltern took in the situation, glanced at the advancing infantry. -Despite the efforts of the battery the nearer of them had got close, -were now hidden by a fold in the ground. From that fold of ground came -a frenzy of rifle-fire and, he fancied, shouts and cries. With despair -in his heart, he determined to "hold his ground." Veiled in dust and -smoke his four guns fired irregularly but rapidly.</p> - -<p>A tumult of noise broke out to his right, almost behind him.</p> - -<p>"Outflanked?" he queried at the top of his voice. The sergeant-major -nodded.</p> - -<p>At the same moment he saw a swarm of brown infantry come over the fold -of ground in front of him. Disaster followed disaster. A high-explosive -shell swallowed one of his precious guns with an awful explosion of -flame and smoke. A soot-faced man ran up and shouted to him that the -wagon-supply was all but exhausted. Only the gun-limbers remained. The -subaltern glanced at the defeated infantry surging towards them. His -jaw set hard with a fierce resolve.</p> - -<p>"Call up the teams," he shouted.</p> - -<p>The sergeant-major signalled to the hill. A moment later the limbers -were racing over the shell-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>swept field. The survivors of the battery -sighed with relief as they fired away their last shells.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Far off upon a height the divisional artillery commander was watching -them through his glasses. "Why isn't that battery withdrawn?" he asked -irritably. He turned to give an order, then checked himself. "No, it's -too late," he said. He continued to watch them.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The guns were limbered up in a storm of shells. The subaltern threw -himself upon a horse that came handy. The detachments waited for the -order to retire.</p> - -<p>"The battery will <i>advance</i>—in line!—Gallop!" he yelled.</p> - -<p>He spurred his horse straight for the infantry. Behind him his three -guns bumped and leaped over the inequalities of the stubble-field. -Onward they raced. They tore through the approaching infantry as -though they were mere phantoms, regardless of those that fell before -their rush. Overhead the shrapnel burst less frequently. They hurled -themselves down into a depression and up again on the rise of a little -ridge. One or two brown soldiers were lying prone on it and firing -rapidly.</p> - -<p>"Halt!—Action front!—At the infantry!—Point blank!" yelled the -subaltern.</p> - -<p>In front were the grey-uniformed soldiers, swarms of them, not a -hundred yards away, rushing on them with gleaming bayonets. Working -like madmen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> the artillery-men reversed the guns, loaded, aimed, -fired. Again and again the guns spoke. The squads worked like men -doomed, anxious only to take toll for their own lives. The shells, set -to zero, burst almost at the muzzles of the guns. Their bullets tore -through the groups of infantrymen, mowed them down. They seemed to melt -away. Behind him the subaltern heard a loud cheer. The beaten infantry -were being rallied, led again to the attack.</p> - -<p>In front of his guns the enemy surged forward, only to be swept away. -Hesitation was manifest among them. Men turned and ran back. The -rearward movement spread. He exulted in their confusion. As his guns -fired their last rounds, a line of brown infantry rushed past them -with a mighty shout, their bayonets levelled at the charge. The grey -infantry broke and fled.</p> - -<p>The subaltern looked round, wiping the acrid smoke-grit from his eyes. -Behind him, down the hill-side where his battery had fought, masses of -brown infantry were advancing. The tide had turned.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Far away, the divisional artillery commander took his glasses from his -eyes. "By G—d! that chap's saved 'em!" he said. He wrote out an order -and despatched it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The subaltern stood by his line of silent guns, watching the fight -roll away from him. He felt atrociously hungry and thirsty. His -water-bottle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> was empty. He felt for the biscuits in his pocket. -There was not one. He wiped his hand across his mouth and there -was biscuit-dust upon the back of it. Then he cursed in bitter -disappointment. He could not forgive himself for having eaten those -biscuits, as it were in his sleep.</p> - -<p>Presently an order came and he drew the remnant of his battery out of -action.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="PRO_PATRIA" id="PRO_PATRIA">PRO PATRIA</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the dark of the autumn evening the rearguard drew itself wearily -through the silent village. To a column of infantrymen, dusty, -dejected, haggard, with rifles held indifferently on the shoulder, -at the trail, or tucked under the arm, succeeded a procession of -miscellaneous vehicles—ambulances, army-wagons, brick-carts, gigs, -anything that would roll on wheels it seemed. Some of these vehicles -were loaded high with goods whose nature was hidden by the bulging -tarpaulins stretched tightly over them, but the majority held only -men who sat up listlessly, swaying with every jolt of the vehicle, -dull-eyed, mournful, and silent. The faces of most of them were -partially masked by bandages that passed at varying angles across their -heads. Others nursed an arm in a sling; some were apparently undamaged. -These were the slightly hurt. Here and there in the long train, a head, -swathed like that of an antique corpse, raised itself from the depths -of a wagon and peered over the side, striking a note of suffering -which found no repercussion in the men, fatigued beyond sensibility, -who marched by the wheels. After a longer or shorter space those -heads relapsed again out of sight, sinking without murmur or gesture, -in hopeless resignation. These vehicles bore the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> wreckage of the -army, swept up by the retreating rearguard which cleared the road of -everything that could afford an indication to the enemy of the nature -of the force in front.</p> - -<p>Behind the lugubrious procession a battery moved at the walk. The -animals that drew the guns were lean and spiritless; many were lame, -and the coats of all were dull with dust and sweat. Most of the teams -were short of their proper tale of horses. The guns, limbers, and -wagons were likewise thick with dust, and where this dust was not -it could be seen that they were scored and pock-marked by shrapnel -bullets. A professional eye looking at those guns as they passed would -have remarked that the breech and muzzle covers had been removed, were -strapped to the front of the shields. They were ready for instant -action, yet many of the men who served them swayed in sleep upon their -seats on limber or wagon. The countenances of all were grimed with -dirt, channelled by dried rivulets of sweat and moisture from eyes -irritated by acrid fumes. They looked like men who had been fighting -a conflagration. They passed, guns and wagons, and after them came a -squadron of cavalrymen sitting limply upon wearied horses. Another -long column of infantry followed, and, immediately upon its heels, an -endless cavalcade of horsemen. All, infantry, convoy, artillery, and -cavalry, moved onwards steadily, without hurry and without halts, at a -pace that had evidently long ago become automatic.</p> - -<p>The houses between which they passed were silent, deserted, for the -most part boarded up. No face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> looked out of any window, no light -glimmered in any interior, no smoke came from any chimney. At the door -of the only inn a couple of cavalrymen stood by their horses, sentries -posted to deter the thirsty straggler. Some of the men in the column -looked yearningly at the houses as they passed, imagining the joys -of sleep and food; the majority plodded onwards mechanically in the -failing light. All, perhaps, seeing the village, had dallied with the -idea of bivouac. To their disappointment had succeeded a despair of -ever halting. The officers by the side of their companies urged them -forward with monotonous voices, aware themselves of the uselessness of -their efforts. The infantry was marching at its best pace. Nevertheless -as the column drew out of the village its speed spontaneously -increased. A rumour had spread along it from end to end. They had given -the enemy the slip.</p> - -<p>The last cavalrymen, left at the entrance of the village until the -column should have cleared it, passed along the street, turning in -their saddles to look at the empty road behind them. The sentries at -the inn mounted and trotted quickly forward to rejoin their ranks. -The last man passed out of sight. The village street seemed strangely -empty in the absence of the floods of men that had been pouring through -it, with but little interruption, for many hours. Only the rhythmic -tramp of the infantry upon the road, pulsating through the air like -the audible systole and diastole of some mighty heart, and fading with -every moment, remained like a reminiscence of the army. Presently that, -too,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> ceased. Silence brooded over the houses whose outlines were -rapidly blurring with the oncoming night, a silence broken only by the -melancholy ululations of an owl that ventured to scour the deserted -street.</p> - -<p>That owl was baulked of its stoop by a sudden human utterance in a -Cockney voice.</p> - -<p>"It's all right, Bill—they've gone."</p> - -<p>The figure of a man was dimly defined in the doorway of one of the -cottages. He turned to answer a question.</p> - -<p>"Yus. The 'ole bloomin' lot. Rearguard an' all."</p> - -<p>The figure in the doorway was joined by another from the dark interior -of the cottage, and the pair slunk cautiously into the street and -looked up and down.</p> - -<p>"We've done it, Sam," said the man addressed as Bill.</p> - -<p>"Yus," replied Sam, peering around him under a frown from heavy brows. -"Now for that public—me ole Gawd-lummy ain't 'ad nothin' in it fer a -week."</p> - -<p>"'Struth!" said Bill, stretching himself. "I ain't 'arf stiff wiv -standin' in that poky little cupboard."</p> - -<p>"Not so stiff as those poor blighters 'll be to-night," said Sam, with -a thought of his marching comrades. "Now—right wheel! March! An' -see that you've got a cartridge in yer rifle," he added in a tone of -authority. It was evident that he was the leading spirit.</p> - -<p>There was the metallic click of a cartridge inserted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> into the breech -and then both men crept furtively in the shadow of the cottages towards -the inn. The hanging sign of the house was silhouetted black against -the sky just above their heads, when Sam stopped suddenly, pointing his -rifle into the gloom.</p> - -<p>"'Alt! 'Oo goes there?" he cried; under his breath he blasphemed -rapidly, ferociously; the blasphemy of a man whose nerves are chaos, -his speech-centres out of control. A shadowy figure moved in the -darkness. "'Ands up—or I fire!" shouted Sam, the menace rising harshly -out of his muttered vituperation.</p> - -<p>A pitiful voice replied from the obscurity. Its panic expressed itself -in a thin rising inflection that became almost a squeal.</p> - -<p>"Don't shoot!—don't shoot!"</p> - -<p>"Come out into the road," commanded Sam. "Cover 'im, Bill," he added.</p> - -<p>The figure obeyed, was now slightly more visible against the light -reflected from the white road.</p> - -<p>"What are you doin' 'ere?" asked Sam.</p> - -<p>The voice became rapid in nervous explanation.</p> - -<p>"I'm lame—got lamed miles back there—I was 'urryin' to rejoin my -regiment——"</p> - -<p>"I <i>don't</i> think," said Sam sternly. "You're a bloomin' deserter, -that's wot you are."</p> - -<p>"Oh, chuck it, Sam!" said Bill suddenly. "More the merrier! Let's get -into this bloomin' public—I'm fair parched for a drink. Come along, -matey—don't take no notice of 'im. You didn't 'arf give us a scare, -though, my word!" he added, as he moved towards the door of the inn.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> - -<p>The third man, however, persisted in justifying himself in a querulous, -tearful voice.</p> - -<p>"I tell yer I got lamed—I ain't no deserter—I just couldn't keep -up—there's a piece of skin off my foot as big as yer 'and—I'll show -it yer if yer don't believe me——"</p> - -<p>"Oh, chuck it," said Sam irritably, giving him an uninviting -march-route for his foot. "'Elp us to knock this blighted door in!"</p> - -<p>The three of them kicked and shouldered against the inn door without -result. The locks held firm.</p> - -<p>"'Ere, stand clear," said Sam, grasping his rifle by the muzzle. He -swung it about his head and brought it down against the door with a -heavy crash. Bill imitated him, swinging his reversed rifle like a -sledgehammer in a manner that bespoke the ex-navvy. The third man's -efforts were swifter if less effective. The noise of their blows -sounded terribly loud in the hush of that dead village, so loud that -once or twice they paused, frightened, their ears alert for answering -sound. None came and they resumed their attack. The door commenced to -splinter and to crack upon its hinges. Collectively they threw their -whole weight against it in sudden impact. It gave way and the three of -them followed it in a heap.</p> - -<p>They struggled to their feet, cursing, and someone struck a match. It -was Sam. The others followed the dim illumination into the interior. -There was an exclamation of joyful surprise and then the match went -out. The exclamation was renewed as Sam struck another and lit a -hanging oil-lamp.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Gawd blimy if they ain't left it for us!"</p> - -<p>They were in a small room at the back of the bar. A long table filled -most of the space, and on that table stood a large joint of beef, -several loaves of bread, and one or two pewter tankards. A number of -plates each containing food and crossed at odd angles by knife and fork -told a story that the overturned chairs about the room corroborated.</p> - -<p>"Left in a blamed 'urry," said Bill, picking up one of the tankards. -"Fancy leavin' the beer!"</p> - -<p>The third man pushed past him eagerly and sprang at the table, clawing -at the food. He almost wept. "Two days—I ain't 'ad nuffink fer two -days, mates," he whimpered between huge mouthfuls. He went on cramming -himself with everything he could reach, uttering the while inarticulate -cries of satisfaction that sounded like sobs.</p> - -<p>The others were rivalled but not surpassed in this gastronomical -performance. Less excitedly, they also were eating enormously. For -long minutes the three men sat at the table under the hanging lamp -without uttering a word. They fed like famished animals at a trough. -As their hunger grew less fierce, however, the two comrades looked -up and exchanged appraising glances with their new companion. He was -a little fellow, with a cunning face and an ill-shaped head that -needed no criminologist to class it. Petty rogue was stamped on him. -The metal letters and number on the shoulder-strap of his dirty and -ragged uniform showed that he, like themselves, belonged to a Cockney -battalion. The two comrades were burly fellows of the navvy type, -full-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>bodied, full-faced, narrow in the brows, powerful in the arms. -Distress, the utter lack of work, had probably forced them into one of -the new regiments. The little man, with equal probability, had enlisted -for similar reasons and had found escape not so easy as he expected.</p> - -<p>At last, replete, they desisted from their orgy of victuals. Bill -stretched his legs and looked good-humouredly at his comrade.</p> - -<p>"This ain't better than the army, I don't think!" he opined, qualifying -the army by an epithet which in its circumstances was not inappropriate.</p> - -<p>"Curse the army!" replied Sam, frowning from under his heavy sandy -brows. He shivered with the commencement of digestion. "Light the fire, -Bill," he commanded brutally. "And you," he added, turning to the -little man, "go an' get some more beer—an' don't drink any or I'll -smash your bloomin' 'ead in!"</p> - -<p>Bill, always in awe of his friend, had already commenced to obey, but -the little man was not yet broken to Sam's discipline.</p> - -<p>"'Ere!—'Oo are you orderin' about?" he expostulated in his thin, -aggrieved voice. Then he dodged quickly to escape a flying tankard. -With a frightened glance at the burly tyrant, he hastened out, jug in -hand.</p> - -<p>When he returned, he deposited several packets of tobacco on the table -and pushed them towards Sam. "Thought per'aps you'd be wantin' some, -mate," he said humbly. "There's a 'ole barrel o' beer in the bar. If -'e'd 'elp me, I could get it in 'ere."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Go and 'elp 'im, Bill," ordered Sam, pocketing the tobacco.</p> - -<p>The two men rolled in the barrel of beer and hoisted it onto the table. -Then, with full tankards handy and their pipes smoking like factory -chimneys, the trio pulled their chairs up to the fire.</p> - -<p>"Curse the army, I say!" said Sam in a challenging voice, apropos of -nothing. He had been staring moodily at the crackling logs. "I want to -get back to my wife an' kids."</p> - -<p>"'Ear,'ear!" said Bill, raising his tankard before he drained it. -"Curse the——army!"</p> - -<p>"Chins!" said the little man. The proposal was drunk unanimously.</p> - -<p>"I'm fed up with it," continued Sam, still in his mood of heavy -reflection, "abso-bloomin'-lutely fed up! Marchin' 'ere, marchin' -there, march all day, march all night; w'en you do stop, nothin' to -eat; march back w'ere you come from, then right about face and march -ag'in till you don't know w'ere you are. I joined the bloomin' army to -fight, not to go on a blighted walkin'-tour!"</p> - -<p>"Fight!" chimed in the little man. "You ought to 'a' been wiv us the -other day! Talk about fightin'! Our company fought three thousand on -'em for hours an' hours—all alone. We killed 'undreds of 'em, me -an' about a dozen others, till we 'ad to retreat. That's wot I calls -fightin'!"</p> - -<p>"Is it?" sneered Sam. "You wos one o' that picket guard wot run away -from a cow, you mean. Fightin'! That ain't fightin'—bein' shot at -by swine you can't see. I ain't 'ad a sight o' one on 'em yet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> not -one—an' yesterday forty men of our company was killed w'ere we laid in -a 'tater-field. Ain't that so, Bill?"</p> - -<p>"Forty-two," corrected Bill, "an' you couldn't find some of 'em after -the shell 'ad 'it 'em."</p> - -<p>"That's it," continued Sam, "shells! Shells plumpin' down and chokin' -yer, shells over'ead as if the sky was breakin' in and droppin' down -in bullets. Shells! That's wot I can't stand—bein' 'it on the back of -the 'ead w'en you're lyin' down an' takin' cover accordin' to orders. -It fair got on my nerves—all day, shells, shells, shells, an' not a -mouthful to eat, an' then, at the end, right about face, quick march, -we're beat. Beat! We'll see if we get beat! No,—it's just bloomin' -silly—they march us orf our feet for a week just to make us a target -for their damn artillery and then tell us we're licked and 'ave got -to march back double-quick. I'm fed up wiv it. I've chucked the blank -army. Chucked it, d'yer 'ear?" he turned savagely on the little man.</p> - -<p>"You're right, mate," said the little man, standing up to refill his -tankard at the barrel. "So 've I. W'y should we fight? That's wot I -arsks yer. We're the pore workin'-man—we ain't got no property," -he developed the manner of a street-corner orator, and thumped his -tankard on the table. "We ain't got no stake in the country. Let -them as 'as got a stake in the country fight for it, says I. Not get -a pore <i>h</i>onest workin'-man to go an' do it for 'em. 'Tain't right, -mates. That's w'y I chucked the bloomin' army, I don't mind tellin' -yer—because I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> felt it wasn't right! I'm a <i>h</i>onest workin'-man an' I -don't believe in war."</p> - -<p>"'Ear, 'ear," said Bill sleepily.</p> - -<p>"Chuck it!" commented Sam unsympathetically, regarding the hands of the -orator. "You a workin'-man! You ain't never done a day's work in yer -life, unless you calls work pickin' pockets at the races. I don't want -no Socialism—an' I don't want no war, neither. I wants to get back to -my missus an' the kids an' a regular job."</p> - -<p>"'Ear, 'ear," said Bill. "Wot price the Ole Kent Road on a Saturday -night, Sam?"</p> - -<p>"That's wot I was thinkin'. Is to-night Saturday, Bill?"</p> - -<p>"Cursed if I know," was the reply. "I've lost count."</p> - -<p>Sam sat gloomily looking into the fire. In his brain was a vision of -the great thoroughfare, lined with naphtha flares, thronged with people -who clustered about the stalls, here and there the blaze of lights upon -the white-and-gold façade of a picture-palace, the yellowish radiance -of a public-house. He visualised it now, distant from it, as the -rustic looks back to his village, sentimentally. There the incidents, -commonplace enough, sordid even, which had made his life something -individual to himself, had linked themselves one by one.</p> - -<p>"Bill," he said huskily, "if I saw those blank foreigners marchin' up -the Ole Kent Road, I'd go for 'em—if there wasn't a man to 'elp me."</p> - -<p>"'Ear, 'ear!" said Bill. "So would I."</p> - -<p>"I've got a bit o' skirt meself wot lives just off the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> Ole Kent Road," -said the third man in a tone of reminiscence. "Let's 'ave some more -beer. I say," he remarked suddenly, having refilled his mug, "if the -army comes back it'll be a fair cop for us, won't it?"</p> - -<p>"I ain't goin' back," said Sam sturdily, still gazing into the fire. -"I'm fed up—and w'en I'm fed up I'm fed up."</p> - -<p>Bill had wakened at the suggestion.</p> - -<p>"But s'pose they come back, Sam? Wot'll we do?"</p> - -<p>The third man interposed.</p> - -<p>"'Tain't wot we'll do. It's wot they'll do. They'll shoot us, by -Gawd they will!" Panic came into his sharp little white face. He was -desperately in earnest. "They'll shoot every man of us!"</p> - -<p>"<i>They</i> won't come back," said Sam.</p> - -<p>"Ho! Won't they? And 'aven't they countermarched before? W'y—I 'eard -an officer say only this afternoon that they'd be 'avin' another go at -'em to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Did yer, really?" asked Bill, now thoroughly frightened.</p> - -<p>"'Strue as I stand 'ere!—'We'll march back quick an' catch 'em,' 'e -said," the little man invented rapidly. "An officer in the cavalry, it -was. Staff-officer, shudn't wonder."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my Gawd!" cried Bill, his beer-muddled faculties dispersing before -a gale of fear. "'Ere, Sam—I'm orf! Come on! You brought me into this, -yer know—I didn't want to desert. I told yer so, lots o' times—an' -now!—Come on!—I ain't goin' to stop 'ere to get shot!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> - -<p>"'Arf a mo!" said the little man. "'Tain't no good runnin' orf in that -uniform. Wot we've got to do is to find some togs. Then if they comes -back we're just <i>h</i>onest rustics, see?"</p> - -<p>Sam stood up. The sudden panic of his companions had communicated -itself to his slower brain. He also trembled at the prospect of -recapture.</p> - -<p>"That's the ticket, mate. You've got it. You're a smart little cove. -Wot's yer name?" This, he implied, was condescension.</p> - -<p>"Hoswald—Hoswald Smiff—my farver was a toff, a flash cove, 'e was. -Come on, mates—there's sure to be some togs upstairs—shudn't wonder -if they've left some dibs be'ind 'em, too."</p> - -<p>"They left the beer, anyway," said Bill. His tone implied that people -who left beer would leave anything.</p> - -<p>Rather unsteadily, the trio ascended the steep and narrow stairs of the -inn. Sam carried a lighted candle which Oswald Smith had found in the -kitchen. A disappointment awaited them. In every room the drawers stood -open, empty, their contents carried off. The trio swore in harmony -and in fugues. They cursed with the pointless fluency of drunken men -baulked of an intention. Then they lurched downstairs again.</p> - -<p>"Wot'll we do now?" asked Bill, his face pale with fright. "They'll be -on us before morning, sure!"</p> - -<p>"Certain!" said Oswald.</p> - -<p>"I ain't goin' back," said Sam doggedly. "I'm fed up." He stood and -tried to think, his mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> harassed by the necessity for a disguise -which had been suggested to it.</p> - -<p>Bill drank deeply from his tankard and, in the middle of the draught, -was visited by a brilliant idea.</p> - -<p>"I know," he cried. "Let's cut the letters orf our uniforms. They won't -be able to tell w'ere we come from an' we can make up some yarn—say we -found 'em—'ad our own togs pinched by the soldiers."</p> - -<p>The others seized on the suggestion. To their alcoholised brains the -plan seemed more than feasible; it was certain of success. Feverishly -and clumsily they ripped the regimental letters from each other's -uniforms and cast them into the fire. The identification labels, -everything which could point to their connection with the army, -followed. They stood, anonymous it seemed to them, in their stripped -khaki.</p> - -<p>"That's done wiv," said Sam, with a heavy sigh. "Let's 'ave some more -beer."</p> - -<p>Joyous now, their minds relieved of the fear of recapture, the trio -refilled their tankards and their pipes. They settled themselves again.</p> - -<p>"I say, mates," said Oswald, "ever 'eard the yarn of the bloke -'oo——?" He told the story and, ere the noisy laughter which greeted -the end had died away, began another. He revealed himself as a fellow -of rare social qualities. His repertory of anecdotes, many of them -relating shady episodes of his own career, was inexhaustible. On his -own confession he was a sharper or worse; the humour of his experiences -the eternal humour of the sharp-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>witted clown and the dull policeman. -He diversified his entertainment with comic songs rendered with more -verve than elegance. Bill obliged with others of a sentimental nature. -They drank beer and more beer. They bellowed out choruses whose rhythm -was marked by the heavy beating of tankards upon the table and laughed -and shouted as though they sat at a "free-and-easy" in the Old Kent -Road. The fire blazed up the chimney, fed by chairs demolished one -after another. Such merry men as they could not condescend to the -fetching of fuel. The room was thick with tobacco-smoke. On the floor -little lakes of beer communicated by a rivulet whose source was the -spigot of the barrel. The three men gave themselves up to a roaring -orgy. They forgot entirely the army which was marching away from them, -the other army which approached.</p> - -<p>At last, in an atmosphere heavy with debauch, they slumbered, three -worthless soldiers of whom any army was well rid.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Sam was awakened from a muddled dream of a tenement near the Old Kent -Road by a rough hand upon his shoulder and the sound of a peremptory -voice.</p> - -<p>"All-ri', Bill," he murmured, "revalley 'asn't sounded yet." Then he -opened his eyes, tried to orientate himself in his surroundings. It -was morning. He was in an unfamiliar room and the room was filled with -unfamiliar men, dressed in a strange uniform. His shoulder was again -roughly shaken.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> The voice, uttering words foreign to him, but whose -meaning was not in doubt, spoke again. A strange stern face was thrust -close to his. Sam got on his feet, still bewildered. Immediately he -felt his arm firmly grasped. His companions were undergoing similar -treatment. At the sight of them, the incidents of the previous night -returned to his memory. Recapture? He was reassured by the foreign -incomprehensible language about him. He would give himself up -comfortable as a prisoner. His dangers were over.</p> - -<p>Oswald was in the grasp of two stalwart captors, the frightened eyes -in his cunning little face looking up wildly into their unemotional -countenances. Bill, who had slid with his head under a chair in the -stupor which followed their orgy, was less easy to awaken. The strange -soldiers kicked him liberally, eliciting sleepy curses but scarce a -movement.</p> - -<p>Sam could not repress a grin; Bill's morning recall to the sorrows of -this waking world was usually made in this manner.</p> - -<p>Then he was pushed on by a firm, unrelenting hand which reminded him -vividly of that of a policeman. As he was propelled through the door he -had a glimpse of Bill being hoisted bodily on to his feet by several of -the strange soldiers. Behind him, Oswald was asking imploring questions -in his thin expostulating voice. They received no reply. The trio were -pushed swiftly, inexorably, into the street.</p> - -<p>Outside in the bright sunshine they perceived that the village was -full of cavalrymen garbed in an un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>familiar uniform. Their position -was obvious. They had been captured by the enemy's advance-guard. -Just without the door they were halted and the danger of any movement -was explained to them in dumb show by a soldier who allowed them a -disconcerting view down the muzzle of a rifle.</p> - -<p>In front of the inn was a rustic bench and table, occupied at the -moment by a big, fair-moustached man who bent over a map. Around him -a group of officers stood waiting in respectful attitudes. Presently -the fair-moustached man looked up and said a few words to one of -the officers. He had a good-humoured, smiling face, that man. The -trio contemplated it anxiously and drew some comfort from its jovial -appearance.</p> - -<p>Sam turned to his companions.</p> - -<p>"Mates," he said huskily, "we're copped. But mind, we don't know -nuffink. We ain't goin' to give the boys away, are we?"</p> - -<p>"No, Sam," replied Bill, even more huskily. "Wot'll they do to us, -d'yer think?"</p> - -<p>"Nuffink," was the answer. "We're soldiers—they don't shoot prisoners."</p> - -<p>Oswald drew a long breath of relief at this. Sam looked at him sharply.</p> - -<p>"Mind—not a word, you little skunk—or I'll bash yer 'ead in."</p> - -<p>"All right, mate," said Oswald. "I ain't goin' to peach."</p> - -<p>The good-humoured officer on the bench spoke a couple of sharp words. -Immediately the prisoners were pushed in front of him. A pair of very -blue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> eyes looked over them, seemed to smile at them, they thought and -hoped.</p> - -<p>"What are you?" he asked sharply in English.</p> - -<p>"Soldiers, sir," replied Sam quickly. Not very confident of the -discretion of his companions, he was anxious to make himself the -spokesman of the party.</p> - -<p>"Indeed? What corps?"</p> - -<p>The blue eyes smiled on Sam. He felt them dangerously fascinating. -It was with an effort that he kept himself from a reply and remained -silent. His dull faculties were desperately on the defensive.</p> - -<p>"What corps?"</p> - -<p>No answer.</p> - -<p>The officer drew out a heavy gold watch. He smiled outright at them.</p> - -<p>"I give you five minutes. If you do not reply, you will be shot against -that wall."</p> - -<p>"We're soldiers—prisoners of war, sir," said Sam. "You can't shoot -prisoners of war."</p> - -<p>"Indeed!" The blue eyes above the fair moustache looked innocently -amused. "You call yourselves soldiers—to what corps do you belong? To -what regiment? Where are your shoulder-straps?" He got angry suddenly. -"Tell me at once what regiments—what time they passed here, or you go -against that wall!"</p> - -<p>Sam set his teeth and went pale. The consequences of their anonymity -became plain to him. He met the eyes of the quick-witted little Cockney -rogue. The cunning, ill-shaped face was lit with a feverish excitement.</p> - -<p>"Don't yer see, mate?" he whispered eagerly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> "Our chaps 'ave give 'em -the slip. 'E wants to find out wot corps passed through 'ere——"</p> - -<p>"Silence!—Answer, you!"</p> - -<p>The fascinating blue eyes looked at Sam, almost mesmerised him.</p> - -<p>"We're soldiers—prisoners o' war," he repeated doggedly.</p> - -<p>"Soldiers! Soldiers without regiments—without corps! Prove it then, my -man. Quick! I have no time to waste. Where are your shoulder-straps? -Your identification papers?"</p> - -<p>The trio remained silent. The officer adopted a more cajoling tone.</p> - -<p>"Come, come, my man. You don't want to throw your lives away on a -trifle. I am willing to treat you as prisoners of war if you prove to -me that you are soldiers. Tell me your regiments."</p> - -<p>The trio stood in stubborn silence, the ex-navvies rather sheepish, the -Cockney rogue watching the questioner with quick and knowing eyes. "No? -Then you are spies." He turned to his men and uttered a brief order, -pointing to Sam.</p> - -<p>On the instant the ex-navvy found himself pushed with his back against -the wall, looking into a grim row of rifle-barrels. The squad that -menaced him stood equably waiting the word of command. The officer -rose, walked across to him and smiled in his face. Once more he drew -out his watch.</p> - -<p>"One minute," he said pleasantly. "One minute to prove that you are a -soldier and no spy."</p> - -<p>Sam stood as erect as suddenly enfeebled knees would let him. He felt -the bricks of the wall pushing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> against his back in the instinctive -retreat of his body from the imminent danger. His eyes were fixed on -the officer who stood calmly regarding his watch. He felt sick and -dizzy and very cold. He shivered as in a mantle of ice. His mouth went -dry. The panic-stricken part of his brain began an attempt to count the -seconds without any revolt at the stubborn decision of his directing -self. One, two, three—twenty—thirty—the minute seemed endlessly -long. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, striving -desperately to bring himself to speech in the fraction of time which -remained to him. He succeeded.</p> - -<p>His voice came raucously, an agonised appeal.</p> - -<p>"Mates!—Remember—the Ole Kent Road!"</p> - -<p>The officer uttered a sharp sound and the windows shook with the loud -report of the rifles. In a thin haze of smoke, the prisoners saw Sam -lurch forward, his arms outstretched, swaying on his toes for one -ghastly moment ere he pitched.</p> - -<p>The officer calmly replaced his watch and brushed past Oswald. He -seized Bill by the arm.</p> - -<p>"You!" he said, with that sudden and disconcerting anger of his. "Will -you speak?"</p> - -<p>Bill stood sheepishly staring at him.</p> - -<p>"The Ole Kent Road—'Ome!" he mumbled to himself. Relentless hands -pushed him against the wall. At his feet lay Sam, a dark pool forming -under him.</p> - -<p>"Will you speak?" vociferated the officer.</p> - -<p>"'Ome," mumbled Bill. "'Ome!—Oh, Gawd!"</p> - -<p>He ignored the demand—seemed not to hear it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> - -<p>The officer, exasperated, stamped upon the gravel. Again he uttered the -sharp order, again the windows shook. Bill slid down the wall with his -head on his breast.</p> - -<p>The officer turned to the survivor, the petty rogue, nurtured -fatherless in a London slum. "Now, my man," he said cheerfully. "You -see I am not to be trifled with. Come—tell me what corps passed -through here yesterday." He added with a smile of contempt, "These -scruples are absurd in a deserter."</p> - -<p>A cunning grin came over Oswald's face.</p> - -<p>"Yah!" he said. "Deserter, am I? So I am, but I ain't goin' to peach -on my pals. They've give yer the slip right enough—an' yer knows it. -Yah!" He finished with an ugly grimace.</p> - -<p>A moment later, he also stood with his back to the wall.</p> - -<p>"Yah!" he cried, and grinned as at some private joke.</p> - -<p>The rifles spoke and he spun and fell. In his pocket was the officer's -gold watch.</p> - -<p>At the foot of a bullet-marked wall lay three worthless soldiers. Far -away, a beaten army, lost for the nonce in the fog of war, rallied -itself without molestation for another struggle.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="NERVES" id="NERVES">NERVES!</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A heavy</span> north-east gale was setting with a flowing tide into the River -Ems. Out at sea dark grey rainclouds blew raggedly over a background -but little lighter in colour. The distant sea stretched away, cheerless -and leaden, to a horizon that was whelmed in a grey mist where the -elements met, indistinguishable. The nearer waters broke in a confused -turmoil of white-caps on either hand. A heavy swell rolled dark between -these shoals. Up the estuary a blur of dirty brown smoke, rising from -behind a line of bleak sand-dunes, smudged the sagging sky. It rose -from the little town of Emden, round the corner. A couple of tall -posts, wireless "aerials," stood out black against the smoke.</p> - -<p>In the river, just off the low sandy point, lay a long, four-funnelled -cruiser. In the heavy rain-squalls which swallowed her every few -minutes she looked like a thing of mist, so well did the grey of her -hull and superstructure blend with the grey of sea and sky. She pitched -slowly and gently at the taut-stretched cables of her bow anchors, her -nose pointed seawards towards the incoming tide. From her steam-pipes -the white vapour which issued, deafeningly stridulant, was torn -violently away in horizontal pennons. At her peak a small flag blew out -stiffly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> At her stern, the ensign—black rectangular cross on white, -centred with the crowned eagle and quartered with a small black cross -upon the national colours, black, white and red—flattened itself out -in the wind with loud claps as the gale half-released it for a second -and then seized upon it again.</p> - -<p>To and fro upon her navigating bridge the oilskin-clad officer of the -watch paced restlessly. Under his sou'-wester, anxious, strained eyes -peered from a haggard face whose weather-beaten brow was paled to an -unhealthy yellow. Up and down he went, but never for a moment did he -take those anxious eyes from the dark channel ahead of the ship's bows. -The look-outs, posted at each end of the bridge close behind the canvas -"dodger," gazed with equal fixity towards the sea. On their faces the -same tension, the same evidence of sleepless nights, was visible. -Behind them, in a wheelhouse from which the glass panels had been -removed, stood a couple of quartermasters. Stiffly motionless behind -the steering telemotor they conversed in low nervous voices. The hands -of one of them, a giant of a man, shook continuously as he held them -pendent against his thighs.</p> - -<p>A blue-uniformed officer with gold bands across his cuffs appeared upon -the bridge and approached the lieutenant. They saluted each other with -a friendly nod after the formal fingers to the brow.</p> - -<p>"Any orders yet, Herr Leutnant?" asked the new-comer. He was a heavily -built man with a bluish nose that bent birdlike from between protruding -eyes. He worried continually with thumb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> and finger at a ragged grey -moustache. He followed the lieutenant to a position in the centre of -the bridge.</p> - -<p>"We start directly," said the navigating lieutenant in a weary voice. -"When the Herr Kapitän returns."</p> - -<p>Both stared silently down at the roof of the conning-tower just below -them, and at the two long guns which emerged from the turret in front -of it. The open manhole in the conning-tower vitalised the familiar -objects with a touch of grim expectation.</p> - -<p>"Ach!" said the engineer at last gloomily. "It is perhaps better—I -cannot sleep here—I cannot read."</p> - -<p>"Sleep!" echoed the lieutenant. "I have not slept for a week. I see -always those cursed destroyers slipping through the mist—I see them -when I close my eyes—I see them when I am on duty—I know no longer -whether I see them or not—and worse than the destroyers——" he broke -off suddenly.</p> - -<p>"Ach, ja," said the engineer, "you have had a bad time—but you can at -least see the danger coming—sometimes, down there, I begin to imagine -things—I have not let myself imagine, Herr Leutnant—I have read the -sublime words of Zarathustra—I could always read them—but now I can, -no longer. How long have we been here, Bielefeld?" he finished abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Four days."</p> - -<p>"Ach so! I thought it was a week—what days!"</p> - -<p>"Jawohl!"</p> - -<p>The two men fell silent again, staring at the sea. Once the lieutenant -made a quick movement of alarm, whipped out his binoculars, and gazed -into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> the grey distance. He put them back after some minutes without a -word. On the whole ship was no other sound than the strident rasp of -the escaping steam and the drone of the gale through the wind-tautened -stays.</p> - -<p>The engineer spoke again.</p> - -<p>"What does Borkum say?"</p> - -<p>"Enemy disappeared into the offing—could not keep their stations in -this weather."</p> - -<p>"It is our chance, then."</p> - -<p>"Yes—perhaps."</p> - -<p>"You fear——?"</p> - -<p>"Everything—in this rat-trap. The picket-boats are all in. If only we -could start!"</p> - -<p>"Jawohl—anything is better than this—besides, the movement of the -engines is soothing—this stillness day after day is unnerving. If only -we had some good Welsh coal! This soft stuff! One burns and burns and -gets no heat!"</p> - -<p>"And advertise ourselves to every cursed scout in the North Sea!"</p> - -<p>A sailor, heavy in oilskins, drew up and saluted.</p> - -<p>"The Herr Kapitän is coming, Herr Leutnant."</p> - -<p>The engineer disappeared. His friend went to the starboard rail of the -bridge and looked over. A motor-boat was approaching in a smother of -flying spray.</p> - -<p>A boatswain's whistle shrilled loudly. A minute later the captain came -up the ladder onto the bridge, shaking the water from his oilskins like -a wet dog and dabbing at his square reddish beard with a handkerchief. -The lieutenant saluted, searching his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> commander's face for a hint of -the orders he bore. The captain's eyes were hard, the eyes of a man who -had been contemplating desperate possibilities. His bluish lips cut in -a thin straight line across his beard. He spoke curtly.</p> - -<p>"Get the starboard anchor up. Tell the Herr Stabs-Ingenieur I wish to -speak to him."</p> - -<p>He went heavily into the wheelhouse and bent over the chart. Outside, -the lieutenant blew his whistle and shouted an order. An instant -later the shrill piping of the boatswain repeated the call. There was -a scurry of men along the deck towards the bows and the clank of a -capstan hauling in the heavy chain.</p> - -<p>The staff-engineer stood in conversation with the captain. In -the low murmur of their voices certain words were emphasised by -repetition—"Knots—this coal—revolutions—coal." The captain nodded.</p> - -<p>"Do your best," he said briefly.</p> - -<p>"We make a dash for it?" queried the engineer. Still he worried at his -ragged moustache and the protruding eyes above his beaklike nose moved -with little quick stares like a frightened bird.</p> - -<p>The captain smiled grimly.</p> - -<p>"We rejoin the fleet—while we can—those are the orders. We will do -our best and God be with us—do you find that maxim in Zarathustra, -Herr Wollenmetz?"</p> - -<p>The engineer shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Ach! I know no longer, Herr Kapitän—anything is better than -this—anything!"</p> - -<p>"We start at once," said the captain and went out onto the bridge -without more words. The ship's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> bugler saluted and stood stiffly to -attention as he emerged.</p> - -<p>"Battle stations!" said the captain.</p> - -<p>The howl of the gale in the rigging was lost in the sternly joyous -run of brazen notes, taken up and repeated all over the vessel. For a -minute or two the erstwhile deserted decks swarmed with hurrying men. -They disappeared rapidly into turrets, fighting-tops, fire-control -stations or stood, alert, behind the unprotected anti-torpedo guns.</p> - -<p>There was a buzz of excited voices which would not easily be hushed. -At last the never-diminished tension of four long days of inaction was -broken. They were going to move, to do something. No longer were they -to lie there, waiting, waiting, while perhaps at any minute destruction -was creeping stealthily towards them under the surface of the water. -They forgot the wearing vigils of the previous weeks at sea, the -unrelieved strain of watching the horizon for a grey spot in daytime -or a blur closer at hand in the obscurity of the night. They forgot -the awful minutes which dragged out, heavy with their lives, as they -approached an unknown ship, forgot the paralysing uncertainty when the -wireless began on its mysterious message, reporting her. They forgot -the night alarms, the perpetual dodging of the hostile cruisers, the -chases and the escapes and the last fierce pursuit, which had driven -them, all but out of coal, behind the shelter of Borkum Island. The -memory of these things was blotted out by the nerve-sapping suspense -of the past four days, while they waited for a chance to elude the -hostile cruisers watching for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> them in the offing. Now they experienced -the gladness of a release as from an untangible but none the less -close prison. Nevertheless, all of this emotional and mental strain -was marked in eyes dark-rimmed and faces that had grown thinner. The -alacrity of their movements now was not the alacrity of men who leap, -calm-souled and confident, to test their strength in a crisis; it was -the fussiness of neurotics who are glad to translate their nerve force -into physical action as an escape from the barren travail of their -brains.</p> - -<p>Volumes of black smoke rolled heavily from the four funnels of the -cruiser, were blown rapidly by the gale in one thick all-obliterating -mist towards the low shores. An engine-room telegraph clanged harshly -while the port anchor, dripping black mud, came slowly up to the -hawse-hole. Again the telegraph clanged. There was a flurry in the -water astern, and the long grey cruiser commenced to move along the -dark fairway into the stormy grey of the autumn afternoon.</p> - -<p>Quickly she got into her stride. On the port bow the island of Borkum -was beginning to loom up just distinguishable through the driving -scud. The wireless was talking with it. Borkum reported with steady -regularity: "No enemy in sight." The cruiser hurried down the eastern -branch of the Ems, meeting a heavy swell that rolled darkly towards -her to be divided into two thin translucent curtains of water poised -like wings on either side of her bows. The shoals to port and starboard -glimmered away into the distance, wide stretches of running, leaping,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -jostling white-caps. The water under their lee showed an ugly, dirty -yellow that contrasted with the black waves of the channel. On the -bridge the navigating lieutenant still peered anxiously into the veiled -horizon. Every now and then he glanced back at the welter of black -smoke issuing from their funnels and muttered fluent curses that were -the perverted expression of the prayer in his heart. Behind him stood -the captain and the commander, conversing in the intervals of raising -their binoculars to their eyes.</p> - -<p>At every minute a message from the wireless room was brought to the -captain. Borkum was still talking. Suddenly the tenor of its messages -changed. "Two British cruisers passing the minefield in the Western -Ems." A moment later Emden reported three submarines at the fork of -the channel behind. The captain smiled grimly. He could not now go -back, but apparently he had given his warders the slip. He went to -the engine-room telephone and spoke a few words to the chief. In -answer the masses of black smoke from the funnels rolled out even -more densely than before. The curtains of flying water at the bows -rose a little higher and remained at the elevation. Borkum announced: -"Mines evidently swept or damaged—cruisers untouched." In fact, in -slight lulls of the gale, slow dull booms were audible to leeward. The -batteries on the island were firing. The captain turned and laughed -with the commander. The situation could not be more favourable. They -had as good as escaped.</p> - -<p>A few long minutes and they had reached the open<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> sea. Borkum was a -grey blur on their port quarter, the land to the east of them passed -into invisibility. Here they felt the full force of the gale. The -cruiser nosed into great waves that leaped green above the bows and -fell with a heavy thud upon the deck. She endeavoured to combine a -steady roll with violent pitching, and the officers on the bridge -clutched at the rail with one hand while with the other they pressed -their glasses hard against their eyes. The veils of driving mist which -swept continuously across the waters might hide a menace that would -loom up at any instant as destruction. Suddenly a telephone bell rang -in the wheelhouse behind them. A man ran out, saluted and reported:</p> - -<p>"Submarine right ahead—about 1000 metres."</p> - -<p>The message came from an observing station on the foremast. The three -officers on the bridge searched the sea in front of them with their -binoculars. Yes! No! Yes! The navigating lieutenant saw a flitting -patch of foam on the dark sea, a splash in the air as a wave lifted. -He recognised it instantly as a periscope cutting through the water, -coming straight towards them. They must shoot—shoot at once! He turned -to his superiors. The captain had already shouted one order, was now -yelling instructions to the men at the port anti-torpedo guns. The -cruiser turned slightly to starboard. Onward drove the patch of foam, -aiming apparently at their side. The lieutenant felt his left hand -hurt him—it was the intensity of his nervous grip upon the rail. -Behind him he heard a sudden order, followed instantly by the sharp, -splitting report of the light guns. At<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> the same moment the circle of -a conning-tower broke the surface of the sea, followed by a glistening -whale-back. As it emerged he saw it veiled in a sheet of flame, a film -of smoke. He had a glimpse of a great hole in the whale-back and then -the submarine dived nose foremost, kicking up her stern in the air as -she went. For one awful, ghastly second the lieutenant had a view of -the large initial in her conning-tower. It was U—Unterseeboot!—They -had sunk one of their own submarines!</p> - -<p>He turned to see the face of his captain fixed in an expression of -horror. Everyone on the bridge was trembling. They had lost command -over themselves, and they knew it. No one spoke. With a fierce effort -of will the lieutenant pressed his glasses to his eyes, scanned -the horizon. What was that? He saw a dark spot rising and falling, -circling against the grey sky like a black gull wheeling in the gale. -It was a seaplane, daringly reconnoitring even in this weather. It -was discovery. Borkum confirmed the fear. "Cruisers turning back to -sea—difficult to range in this weather."</p> - -<p>The guns' crews at the anti-torpedo armament had also seen the -aeroplane. A shot cracked out, automatically, without orders. The -captain, losing all control over his nerves after the last shock, -ran along the bridge to the port rail and excitedly ordered them to -continue. "Fire!" he shouted. "Fire! A hundred marks to the crew that -brings it down!" His face worked with an insane hatred, his voice was -the voice of a man out of himself. It seemed that he wished to revenge -his terrible mistake upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> aeroplane. Crack! Crack! Crack! went the -guns, while the men behind the rubber shoulder-pieces swore violent -oaths. The firing had continued for a couple of minutes or more when -the telephone bell rang again.</p> - -<p>"The lieutenant in the observing station wishes to know what you are -firing at, Herr Kapitän!"</p> - -<p>The captain was about to discharge a volley of oaths upon the man when -a sharp cry from the commander stopped him. The captain looked again -through his glasses. It was suddenly obvious to everybody that the -aeroplane was no aeroplane but in actual fact a wheeling gull.</p> - -<p>"Cease fire, you—(objurgatory)—fools!" yelled the captain. In a -nervous rage he bit furiously at the red beard below his lip. "Tell the -Herr Leutnant Feldmann to keep a better look out!" he said savagely to -the messenger.</p> - -<p>Eight bells sounded. The navigating lieutenant was relieved. He -descended from the bridge and stood for a moment in a warm spot in -the lee of the forward funnel, trying to achieve a yawn that kept -opening his mouth without filling his lungs. His blood, drugged with -fatigue-toxins, was in urgent need of more oxygen, but his overtaxed -nerves failed to synchronise the action of the muscles. His eyes burned -in his head. He stumbled down the companionway, rubbing at them, and -took off his dripping oilskins outside the wardroom door. His servant -appeared and was ordered to bring him a stiff tumbler of brandy. Then -he entered the empty wardroom and flung himself full length upon -a sofa. He tried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> to shut his eyes, but found himself obstinately -staring wide awake at a paint-blister on the bulkhead. Disconnected -thoughts—visions, rather, of craft of various types driving through -the gale passed through his brain. Especially the black dot of the -seaplane which was no seaplane danced before his eyes, maddening him -with its refusal to be banished. Behind a door in his consciousness -was the horror of the sunk submarine—he fought hard to keep that door -closed, and caught himself staring into it in intervals of relaxed -vigilance. He could not sleep, try as he would. Even the strong spirits -failed to narcotise him. If anything they spurred his harassed brain -into greater activity. He fretted for a drowsiness that would not come. -At last, with a curse, he rose and walked out of the wardroom.</p> - -<p>Outside he stood for a moment, hesitating, craving for companionship -like a sick man who lies awake at night. He ran over the list of his -comrades at their battle stations. Then he made his way down to the -engine-room.</p> - -<p>A stifling atmosphere, hot, damp and thick with the smell of oil, -assailed him as he descended the steep iron ladder. The sweat broke -out on his brow as he passed along a gloomy narrow corridor, just wide -enough for a man, between packed boiler-tubes ranged on both sides to -the roof like bottles in a wine merchant's vault. He emerged finally -into a large space, brilliant with electric light. On a platform at one -end stood the staff-engineer with some of his assistants, surrounded -by a formidable array of indicator-dials, telegraphs, telephones, -speaking-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>tubes, and other fittings of whose use he had but a vague -idea. The engineer still worried at his little grey moustache as he -gazed below him to where the turbines hummed in their casings. It was -comparatively quiet down here. Only a few men were visible, but the -lieutenant knew that a hundred or so were labouring fiercely in the -bowels of this mass of mechanism which gave the ship her life. From -a manhole at the other end of the engine-room a couple of men were -drawing out what seemed to be a corpse, its naked torso black as with -an explosion. It was a stoker who had collapsed. The staff-engineer -frowned as the limp body was carried off to the sick bay. He turned and -snarled irritably at the question of the lieutenant.</p> - -<p>"250 revolutions and not a turn more can we get out of this -Gott-verfluchte coal. That is the tenth man in the last quarter of an -hour. There's no use in worrying us. We can do no more. Go and tell -that to the Herr Kapitän and leave us to our work."</p> - -<p>"It seems clear in front, but there is a couple of cruisers somewhere -behind," observed the lieutenant in a placatory voice.</p> - -<p>"I don't care if Hell's in front of us and the Devil himself behind!" -roared the engineer, losing self-control in the exasperation of his -nerves. "We should at least get something that would give some heat -there. <i>Gott sei dank!</i> Do you know how many tons of this muck we are -burning per hour?" he finished savagely.</p> - -<p>The lieutenant waited for the answer.</p> - -<p>"Thirty tons per hour—and we are only getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> 250 revolutions—go and -tell that to the Herr Kapitän!"</p> - -<p>The lieutenant's own irritation was inflamed by this display of temper.</p> - -<p>"We didn't supply the coal——"</p> - -<p>The engineer overwhelmed him with a roar of curses, and finished with -an angry order to leave his engine-room. His bulging, birdlike eyes -glared with an insane hatred.</p> - -<p>The lieutenant returned a bitter retort that had no justification in -fact and climbed up the ladders to the deck. There he stood swaying -for a moment or two, chilled to the bone by the change in temperature, -although he was on the lee side of the superstructure. Raindrops -splashed heavily upon him from above. The ship was plunging and rolling -more than ever, and he noticed the motion after the comparative quiet -below. The gale had evidently freshened. He shivered with cold and -half-turned to go below again. Then he changed his mind and stumbled -forward, slipping at every step on the wet, unstable deck.</p> - -<p>In the forward turret was his friend Gunnery Lieutenant Arenschmidt. -He opened the steel door and entered. The narrow metal box into which -the breeches of two 8·2 guns protruded was lit by electric lamps -behind wire guards. It was filled with the crews of the two guns, -seated comfortably on the floor with their backs against the walls. In -the shell-bins at the top of the ammunition-hoists a projectile lay -ready for each gun. The gunnery lieutenant rose as his friend entered -and held out his hand with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> a smile. He was a jolly young man, this -lieutenant, whose manly beauty, marred though it was by a student -sabre-cut, fluttered many a female heart. He spoke now with all his -usual boisterous good-humour.</p> - -<p>"Hallo, Bielefeld! Glad to see you! Giving them the slip after all?"</p> - -<p>Despite the buoyancy of his tone the navigating-lieutenant noticed that -his lips trembled and that his eyes were deadly serious.</p> - -<p>Ere any reply was possible, a bell rang sharply. The gunnery -lieutenant jumped away from his friend. The indicators from the -forward fire-control station marked a direction, an elevation and -a range. The navigating lieutenant stood back away from the alert -groups behind the breeches. He felt the floor turning with him while -the ship lurched heavily. A moment later he heard a muffled thud and -everything shook. The starboard gun had been fired. He heard the hiss -of the air-blast clearing the fumes from the firing-chamber, and then -the breech was swung open. The hydraulic chain-rammer, jointed like a -foot-rule, pushed another shell into place, followed by its charges. -The hoists rattled as another projectile came up in readiness. The -bell rang again. The crew at the port gun were suddenly busy. There -was another shock. What was happening? What were they firing at? The -navigating-lieutenant dashed out of the turret, closing the door -quickly behind him.</p> - -<p>As he ran up the ladder to the bridge, he heard a roar in the air, and -a moment later a great sheet of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> flame leaped up just in front of the -forward funnel with a colossal detonation. The blast of the explosion -flung him to the deck. He picked himself up, bruised, dazed, but -uninjured, and looked for the enemy. The turret had swung its two guns -over to starboard, and as he followed their direction they discharged -with a couple of almost simultaneous reports. He steadied himself and -gazed hard into the distance. In the mist on the horizon he thought -he distinguished a long, low band of brownish smoke, and at one end -of it a dark spot and a tiny twinkle of flame. A minute later the -roar of heavy projectiles tearing through the air came to his ears. -Instinctively he flung himself flat upon the deck in the shelter of a -gun-turret of the starboard battery. The sharp, splitting report of the -gun in that turret was blotted out on the instant by a fearful upheaval -that leaped from the centre of the ship with such a blast of noise as -seemed to burst his ears. He had a glimpse, he knew not how, of a sheet -of lurid flame and of a mighty upspout of water on the ship's flank. In -the awful silence which ensued—a silence so profound that he wondered -if he were permanently deafened—he staggered to his feet. The turret -in front of him had been burst open, the gun protruded askew at a -curious angle. He gazed at it, motionless, as though rendered imbecile -with the shock. Then a chorus of agonised screams and shrieks came -from the turret and continued. He heard them with a sense of relief, -so terrible was that unbroken silence. Recovering his wits, he looked -about him. The second gun-shield of the starboard battery had also been -de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>stroyed, the bridge was a hanging mass of contorted scrap-iron, -the wireless "aerials" streamed away to leeward in the gale. The two -forward funnels had disappeared and torrents of black smoke were -welling up from the level of the deck, obliterating everything. In -that smoke, tongues of fire licked upwards, whether from the furnaces -or from a conflagration he did not know. Automatically he began to -run towards the conning-tower. Without defining itself, the thought -that the captain should be informed of the state of affairs impelled -him. As he went he heard again the roar of projectiles. Again he flung -himself flat. This time the enemy was not so successful. A shell burst -somewhere on the fore-castle. The rest flung up spouts of water all -around that fell again with a heavy splash. An instant later he was -hammering at the lid of the manhole in the conning-tower.</p> - -<p>The lid was unfastened from within. He pushed it aside and slid in, -feet foremost. The round steel box was filled with fumes. Through -them he perceived several bodies stretched out upon the floor. He -stumbled over one of them, and the handkerchief over the man's face -slipped aside. It was the commander. He heard the voice of one of the -gunnery-lieutenants at a telephone communicating with a fire-control -station, followed by rapid orders to the electricians turning the -handles of the range indicators. At another telephone a man was making -frantic but ineffectual efforts to get a reply from the wireless room. -A junior officer at the steering wheel gave him a slow strained grin, -almost like an expres<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>sion of pain. The captain glared at him with eyes -in which there flamed a Berserk madness.</p> - -<p>"Well!" he shouted, sticking his red beard into the lieutenant's face.</p> - -<p>The navigating lieutenant gave his information, staggering with the -heavy lurches of the ship. It flashed on his mind while he spoke that -she no longer rose so buoyantly to the waves. The captain listened, his -face twitching insanely, puckering his fierce eyes. When the lieutenant -spoke of the blur of smoke on the horizon he sprang round and peered -out through the narrow slit between the wall and the roof. Then he -turned with a cry of panic.</p> - -<p>"They are all round us! Starboard your helm! West-by-north-west!"</p> - -<p>The ship came round on her new course with a wallowing roll. The -captain peered again through the observation slit.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was a fearful shock, a deafening roar, and the slit -was vividly illuminated. The conning-tower had been again struck. The -captain toppled backward on his heels, an object of sickening horror. -The top of his head was gone. The gunnery-lieutenant sank quietly to -his knees and slid over sideways. The officer at the helm was leaning -over the wheel, motionless and staring. A splinter had gone through -his brain. Lieutenant Bielefeld sprang to take his place. Three men -beside himself, rangetakers and electricians, were left alive in the -conning-tower. They seemed in a stupor, dazed by the shock.</p> - -<p>"Telephone to Lieutenant von Waldkirch that he is now in command!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> - -<p>An electrician roused himself, attempted to obey, and reported:</p> - -<p>"The communications are broken, Herr Leutnant."</p> - -<p>"One of you go and fetch him—he is in the after fire-control station."</p> - -<p>A man wrenched at the lid of the manhole.</p> - -<p>"It will not open, Herr Leutnant—it is jammed."</p> - -<p>The lieutenant glanced at the observation slit. The aperture was no -longer regular. In front of him it gaped, behind him it was closed.</p> - -<p>"So!—then we will carry on!" His face had gone deathly pale, -but his lips were tight-pressed. "Telephone to such guns as you -can—independent firing!" He himself leaned over to the voice-funnel -from the engine-room. "Wollenmetz!—Wollenmetz!"</p> - -<p>The reply came in a gush of fluent curses, evidently roared with full -lung-power at the other end and terminating with: "What is it?"</p> - -<p>"Are you all well down there?" shouted the lieutenant.</p> - -<p>"All well! We have a shell in the engine-room, the men in the -forward stokeholds are all suffocated—and we have dropped to 100 -revolutions—what is happening with you above? Tell me for God's sake! -It is hell here!"</p> - -<p>"We carry on—<i>für Gott und Kaiser</i>!" yelled the lieutenant in reply.</p> - -<p>At the helm, he kept the cruiser steadily on her new course. Every -moment he expected to feel the shock of more hits but none came. -Evidently they were getting out of range. It seemed curious with -the known lessening of the ship's speed, but there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> the fact. -Encouraged, he shouted down the tube to the engine-room to get all the -speed they could. "We are running out of danger!" he added cheerfully. -"Find out what has happened to the ship if you can—all communications -are broken." For a long time he waited for a reply, but none came. His -shouts down the tube elicited no response. Thus isolated from the life -of the ship of which he was actually in command he kept on his course, -bearing every now and then a little more to the west in his fear of the -ships towards the north-east. How long he continued thus he could not -tell. Every now and then he glanced at the clock in front of him. It -marked always the same time. It was broken.</p> - -<p>Rolling heavily, the cruiser ran onward, unmolested. The three men -began to converse cheerfully. The possibility of escape now seemed to -them a probability. The lieutenant also began to indulge the same hope, -but the whereabouts of the ship which had engaged them worried him.</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was a terrific shock, another red illumination of the -slit at the top of the armour-wall, another tremendous roar. Two men -who had been leaning against the wall fell dead without a scratch. The -impact had killed them. The other man had sprung to the lid of the -manhole, was beating against it with his fists and screaming like a -maniac. Presently he sank down and hid his face in his hands, moaning -like a terror-stricken child. The lieutenant ignored him in an agony of -apprehension. Were they overtaken?</p> - -<p>Outside, explosion followed explosion. The floor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> of the conning-tower -listed steeply to starboard, and with every lift and drop of the vessel -the bodies about his feet slid towards the wall. Suddenly, to his -horror, he saw a wisp of smoke issuing from the voice-tube leading to -the engine-room. What had happened? Had they stopped? As the ship dived -down a wave he tuned himself to sensitiveness. He felt the momentary -race of the screws threshing the air, just perceptible. Thank God, they -were still moving! The succession of detonations outside never ceased. -He could only guess at their effect and the direction from which the -projectiles came. Assuming the enemy to be still to starboard, he put -the helm hard over in a last despairing effort to run out of range. The -compass card whirled round in the wrong direction! The steering-gear -had gone.</p> - -<p>The ship no longer rose to the seas. She rolled heavily from side -to side in the trough of the waves. The lieutenant looked around -helplessly at the bodies on the floor, at the wrecked indicators, at -the useless wheel, at the man who rocked to and fro with his head in -his hands. His continuous pitiful moaning exasperated the lieutenant -to madness. He drew his revolver and commanded him, with frenzied -vehemence, to be quiet. The man stared wildly at the muzzle of the -revolver, opened his mouth as though about to shriek, and collapsed in -a dead faint.</p> - -<p>The lieutenant turned from him and went to the observation slit. As -the ship lifted clumsily sideways on a wave he had a view of a dark -grey cruiser driving through the mist, quite close—on the port side! -This was a new unsuspected enemy. Water was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> streaming from her decks -as she rose buoyantly on the sea. A string of flags fluttered along a -halyard from her mast. She seemed as normal as a ship on manœuvres. -Suddenly half a dozen spurts of bright flame broke from her dark sides. -The lieutenant felt the ship under his feet shiver and stagger in a -deafening roar. Then he felt the weight of his body heavy against the -wall of the conning-tower. He was lying almost horizontal against -that wall. Through the slit he looked out upon confused water only, -in the place of sea and sky. A great wave rolled straight towards -him, splashed against the conning-tower, poured through the slit in a -torrent. He sprang back in pitch darkness, fighting with both hands in -a last instinctive struggle for life. The solid floor went from under -him, human hands clutched at his legs, blindly feeling up his trousers. -He kicked—choking—in a rayless night.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Hull-down on the horizon a German battle-cruiser was reporting a -strange vessel that had suddenly appeared, challenged and received -her fire, and then run back into the midst of British cruisers which -had immediately sunk her. Emden sent disquieting answers to urgent -enquiries.</p> - -<p>The great wireless station at Nauen received the news of another -inexplicable disaster.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="THE_AIR_SCOUT_1914" id="THE_AIR_SCOUT_1914">THE AIR SCOUT (1914)</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A large</span> level meadow bit squarely into the edge of the woodland. The -centre of the space enclosed on three sides by trees as by a wall was -an empty stretch of turf, browned by much traffic and littered with -scraps of paper which are the inevitable deposit of any congregation -of human beings. The left-hand side was occupied by a neat row of -slate-grey motor-lorries. The right showed an equally neat array of -tents and sheds over which hung a faint film of wood-smoke. At regular -intervals along the third side a series of placards was affixed to the -tree-trunks, each exhibiting a conspicuous number like stands at a -cattle-show. The stands, however, were vacant. In front of the sheds -on the right stood a little group of men in khaki, and near them two -men in shirt and trousers were busy at a portable forge whence issued -the film of smoke. The hammer-strokes of those men were visible and -evidently delivered with force, yet, curiously enough, at a little -distance they appeared to fall in silence.</p> - -<p>[This description must not be taken as representing the vastly -developed organization of the flying services to-day (1917). The -incident is, of course, quite imaginary. The story was written some -time before the war.]</p> - -<p>A vast noise that came from beyond the wood swallowed all other sounds. -The drowsy air of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> hot noon trembled with concussions so rapid that -they merged into one deep-throated, deafening roar. The field was the -aeroplane depot of the Army. The roar was the roar of the battle which -that Army was fighting.</p> - -<p>Despite the apparent nearness of the strife, there was little of -military spectacle about the depot. At the corner of the wood a -squadron of dismounted troopers stood by their horses. A little further -back, along the rough lane which led into the field, a gun mounted on -a motor-lorry stuck its nose perpendicularly into the air. Three or -four men sat on the lorry in easy attitudes and one stood up, glasses -to his eyes, scanning the blue sky. The group of khaki-clad men paid no -more attention to them than they did to the battle-din which swelled -over the woodland. They were absorbed in contemplation of a large -curious-looking bush which stood a few yards in front of them.</p> - -<p>A closer look at that bush revealed that it was artificial. It was, -in fact, a largish shed whose walls and roof were composed of green -boughs. Men were busy within it and a shaft of sunlight that penetrated -the leaves fell in a patch of gold upon some yellow fabric. The object -thus illuminated was the wing of a small, single-seater monoplane.</p> - -<p>A little apart from the other members of the group a slightly-built -young fellow, garbed for the ascent, stood in earnest colloquy with -a tall, lean staff-officer. Behind them the others conversed in -tones just loud enough to be heard in the incessant roar. They were -discussing the disaster of the dawn.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> - -<p>The blow of the enemy had been terrible. The Army had been smitten in -its eyes. It was now only a blind giant striking at an adversary whose -vision was unimpaired. The entire air-squadron of the force, rising -from its harbourage at the break of day, had been suddenly assailed by -a superior fleet that dropped out of the clouds upon them. Watchers -from below had seen short lightning flashes stabbing the grey mist, had -heard a sharp outbreak of firing, had seen phantom aeroplanes rising, -circling, swooping, colliding in thin cloud, had seen the machines -one after another tumble and dive, lapped by flames, in a sickening -rush to earth. Not theirs alone now lay, crumpled and contorted masses -of scrap-iron, over the countryside, but of theirs none had escaped. -The rear of their battle-line was a picture that his scouts could -report upon at leisure. What lay at the rear of his? None knew, but -the vehemence of his fire told that he was pressing his advantage. The -presentiment of defeat lay heavy on the little group as they disputed -on the blame to be allotted for the catastrophe.</p> - -<p>The staff-officer tugged impatiently at his little grey moustache. -His teeth champed at a bit of grass that was no longer there. In his -anxiety he had not noticed that it had fallen from his mouth.</p> - -<p>"I wish those chaps would be quick," he said. "The General is most -anxious to have that flank cleared up."</p> - -<p>"They are being quick, sir," replied the aviator, with a smile. His -keen, thoughtful face showed that he was not indifferent to the urgency -of the situation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> but his calm mouth told of nerves that nothing -could shake. Within that green bower lay the one hope of the Army—its -lightest and swiftest monoplane, damaged in landing the day before, now -being repaired as fast as skilled hands could do the work.</p> - -<p>"You quite understand, don't you?" said the staff-officer, repeating -himself for the tenth time. "The General thinks that a movement is in -progress against our right flank. A screen is extending there which -he cannot penetrate. If they are moving a large force round us he can -detach the Sixth Division to hold them, and with a massed attack he'll -crumple up their left centre which they must have weakened. He'll -repeat Salamanca, that's what he said—I don't know what happened at -Salamanca," he concluded irritably, "but anyway he daren't move a man -till he's sure. I wish your chaps would get finished." He looked up -into the air above him with a circling glance. "How many have they got -now?"</p> - -<p>"Four, I make it," replied the aviator equably. "They had ten -yesterday. Five were smashed up this morning. One got winged an hour -ago."</p> - -<p>At that moment a dirty and perspiring man came out of the bower and, -approaching them, saluted.</p> - -<p>"Ready, sir," he said.</p> - -<p>"Right. Get her out, then," said the aviator. "No! Wait!" His gaze had -gone up to the sky. "There he comes again."</p> - -<p>"D—n!" said the staff-officer, staring upwards also.</p> - -<p>High in the air an aeroplane was coming towards them, parallel with -their own battle-line. In the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> swollen roar of the conflict, the hum of -its engine was inaudible. It seemed to drift onward leisurely enough, -sinking slightly as it approached but well above effective gun-fire. -Tiny white dots of smoke that sprang into the air below it were a proof -of that. Slowly, as though making a careful examination, it passed -overhead. Suddenly it turned and dropped still lower, coming back -towards them. Something had awakened suspicion in the men up there. -The reason for that artificial bush became apparent. The staff-officer -gazed at the aeroplane, now rapidly enlarging itself in his vision, as -though mesmerised. Anxiety for that precious machine under the leaves -paralysed him.</p> - -<p>The aviator had turned to look at the gun on the motor-lorry. The group -about it sat in quiet expectation. Its muzzle moved gently, came a -little out of the perpendicular. The aviator looked up again at the -machine drifting overhead. He heard a sudden heavy detonation on his -left and almost simultaneously he saw a bright flash appear in the -dark body of the aeroplane. The machine lurched, toppled, dived, and, -falling rapidly, turned bottom up in the air. A couple of dark figures -fell out, raced it in its rush to the ground. A long minute later it -struck the centre of the field. Flames burst out of a shapeless wreck. -The aviator did not heed it. He ran towards the bower.</p> - -<p>"Quick!" he cried. "Get her out!"</p> - -<p>Torn down by twenty pairs of eager hands, the bower fell apart. The -little monoplane was run out, lay like a dragon-fly resting lightly on -the earth.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> - -<p>The aviator climbed into his seat between the wings, sent a glance from -the compass to the map held open in its frame, saw that the message -bags were ready to his hand, tested the strap of the field-glasses -hanging from his neck with a sharp tug. He was ready. In front of him -two soldier mechanics stood holding the long blades of the tractor -screw. Over there, beyond the wood, the uproar of the battle mounted -in violent paroxysms each of which surpassed its predecessor. The tall -staff-officer approached and held out his hand.</p> - -<p>"Good-bye—and good luck," he said, "and for Heaven's sake let us -know what's happening on that flank. Don't wait to get back—drop the -message." He looked at his watch. "It's now twelve—if we don't know -something within an hour it's all over with our chance. Can you manage -it?"</p> - -<p>"I'll try, sir," said the aviator, checking the hour with a glance at -his own clock.</p> - -<p>The staff-officer turned an anxious pair of eyes upward for a swift -look into the sky, seemed about to make a remark and then obviously -refrained. "Good luck!" was all he could trust himself to say.</p> - -<p>The aviator smiled and nodded cheerfully. Then he ejaculated a sharp -order to the mechanics. They flung the blades of the tractor into -revolution. The machine, emitting a series of riflelike reports, -commenced to run across the field. The tractor became a blur.</p> - -<p>The woodland appeared to rush towards him and then suddenly dropped -away in a diagonal underneath. His eyes on the dial of the barograph, -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> aviator warped the machine round and set the planes to an acute -angle of elevation. Confident in the power of his engine he mounted -steeply in a spiral. The record on the dial rose with every second—100 -feet—200—400. In two and a half minutes he had risen 1000 feet. He -cast a swift look below him. He was still over the field, had a glimpse -of a group of tiny figures clustered in front of the sheds. The rim of -the horizon came up, the earth fell into a great concavity. It was like -looking down into a vast bowl containing woods and fields and flattened -hills. From the bowl clouds of yellow-grey dust arose like smoke and -out of the dust came a multiplicity of heavy crashes that detached -themselves from a background of unceasing clatter mingled with one long -rolling thunderous roar.</p> - -<p>It was but a hasty glance the aviator threw below him. Still mounting, -his eyes searched the blue air on a level with himself, above him. The -enemy's three machines where were they? Far off to his left a dark -speck hung in the sky. He watched it intently as his machine climbed. -It was a biplane. It appeared to be drifting away from him, engaged in -a reconnaissance of their left flank, he decided. At any rate as yet -they seemed not to have perceived him. The others were not visible. He -shot a glance at the barograph—3000 feet. He had been climbing for -five and a half minutes. Almost immediately he saw a trail of smoke -ascending with incredible velocity in the air a little below him to his -right. The trail finished abruptly in a vivid flash, a burst of white -smoke and a violent detonation. The monoplane<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> rocked from side to side -in the sudden disturbance of the air but continued to climb. A second -later a similar trial ended in an explosion at a level with him on his -left. He saw a gash appear suddenly in the fabric of one of his planes, -and the needle of the barograph switch back 50 feet with a jerk. Then -the altitude record mounted again steadily—3250—3500—4000. The noise -of the battle diminished as he rose, dropped to a point where it was -all but obscured by the roar of his own engine. Below him the smoke -trails leaped up at him and burst viciously in vain.</p> - -<p>Four thousand five hundred—he glanced at the hostile biplane to his -left and saw that it hung larger in the sky. Even in the moment for -which he watched it it dilated. It was approaching at top speed. He was -discovered, pursued. Instantly he turned off to his right and raced -across the battlefield in the direction of the threatening flank. As he -did so, he perceived another aeroplane rising from the enemy's lines. -It climbed swiftly in bold swoops and then shot off towards him in a -great upward slant. Two! Where was the third? He failed to discover it -and held on his course.</p> - -<p>His direction was at an angle across the battlefield which took -him towards the enemy's left flank rather than to their own right. -As he sped over it, he looked down upon a broad miles-long belt of -yellow-grey dust that rose raggedly into the air, and was spotted with -an innumerable multitude of white puffs that renewed themselves as fast -as they were dissipated. In many places these puffs congregated thickly -and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> as they broke, linked themselves with others until they floated -like little narrow clouds in the air below him. As he looked down into -the great concavity of the earth he seemed to be over some enormous -smoking fissure in a crater whose circumference was the horizon. The -rumble and roar which ascended from it assisted the illusion. Tiny -sparks of flame darted and flickered in the fumes of that inferno, and -here and there flashed a number of glittering points, the reflection of -the sun from advancing bayonets. To distinguish men was impossible, but -in occasional rifts in the dust curtain he could make out brown patches -of varying size, and, over to his left, on the enemy's side, similar -though darker patches.</p> - -<p>He could permit himself no sustained scrutiny of the scene below him -for the management of the machine began to claim all his attention. -Even at that great height above the battle, the air on that windless -day, shaken and riven by the unceasing concussions of the massed -artillery of two armies, was full of flaws. The needle of the barograph -flickered, oscillated violently in leaps to and fro. The monoplane, -tilted dangerously, now on one side, now on the other, in eddies of the -tortured atmosphere, slid downward dizzily ere it could be brought up -to climb a bank of air. It needed strong arms at the controls, a quick -brain and nerves of perfect tone to keep her upon the appointed course. -Glancing back, the aviator saw that the flight of the nearer of the two -hostile machines, the one which had risen from the enemy's lines and -was now approaching him on his left, was similarly erratic.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<p>An overpowering heat, as from a vast open furnace, arose from the -battlefield below. It was the heat from thousands of explosions, -renewed incessantly and sustained over many hours. Stifling gusts -blew on to the aviator's face, carrying with them a peculiar smell of -burning cloth. With these gusts the roar of the battle seemed to leap -up to him. The air was oppressive despite the speed at which he clove -it, highly charged with electricity, heavy with the menace of a storm. -Yet no cloud broke the monotony of the blue sky. The machine raced -onward, was now crossing the battle lines of the enemy's left flank.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he heard a faint rattle behind him. The hostile aeroplane, -realising that it had failed to head him off, was firing furiously. -He felt the machine shiver under a quick succession of hard raps. -Instinctively, he pressed upon his accelerator, and, with a touch on -the warping lever, the machine shot forward at terrific speed. The raps -ceased. He turned his head and saw his enemy rapidly diminish in size -behind him, saw that the other aeroplane, the one he had seen first, -had fallen far in rear. A confident smile came on the tight lips of the -aviator. He could outpace them both.</p> - -<p>He was now above the enemy's left flank—a little to the right of the -spot that the Commander-in-Chief had designated as the object of his -possible attack. The scout switched off his engine and commenced to -drop along a slant towards the centre of the enemy's position. With the -sudden silencing of his engine the roar of the battle came up at him -in a crash and stayed there. He glanced at the time—12.13—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> gave -himself a limit of two minutes in which to reconnoitre. For the moment -he ignored his adversaries in the air. As he gazed down through the -transparent panel between his feet, his glasses to his eyes, the ground -that slid away under him appeared to be subjected to a constantly -increasing magnification. Fields, houses, roads grew momentarily more -distinct. Without taking his gaze from the scene below the aviator -checked the drop of his machine and drove forward. Quickly his trained -eye took in the details of the ground, the position and approximate -numbers of the men that he saw massed in dark patches here and there. -Over a long stretch of the position the enemy's line was obviously -thinner. The country behind it was empty of troops. The General's -intuition was correct. The enemy had weakened his left centre. Point -Number One was settled. Now what had he done with the troops he had -withdrawn?</p> - -<p>As the aviator turned his machine to reconnoitre in the new direction, -he was surprised to see the hostile aeroplane between him and his -objective. Absorbed in his scrutiny of the ground, he had all but -forgotten it. It was slightly higher than himself and about half a mile -distant. He could not carry out his reconnaissance without coming into -fatal proximity to its machine-gun, and he could not return directly -over the battle lines without passing between the crossed fires of this -and the other machine now drawing close. Even as the realisation of his -position flashed on him, a narrow slit appeared in one of his planes. -The nearer of his foes was already firing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> - -<p>Quicker than thought he turned and raced off into the country behind -the battle. A plan, the only one with a possible chance of success, -had sprung into his mind. He had no intention of failing in this -all-important mission of his. But first he must get out of the range -of that deadly machine-gun. He dared not rise across it at barely -half a mile range. At full speed he raced away, inclining his machine -downwards. The hostile aeroplane followed, depressing her course -likewise, to get him into the zone of her fire or to force him to the -ground. The scout's speedometer registered 100 miles an hour. Beneath -his feet he had glimpses of trees and houses and fields flitting past -in a stream where salient features prolonged themselves into long -blurred lines. They looked oddly large after the altitude at which he -had been contemplating them. He threw a glance over his shoulder at his -pursuers. The nearer was now rather more than a mile away. The other -had apparently given up the chase. The clock showed 12.15; in less -than two minutes he distanced his adversary by nearly a mile—he had -therefore a superiority in speed of about twenty-five miles per hour. -He did not consciously deduce this result. His trained mind working -with incomputable swiftness under the stimulant of imminent danger -gave the result like an intuition. His plan presented itself to him -completely formed. At this distance he could risk the danger zone of -the machine-gun for the few moments he would be in it. He swerved his -machine upward and climbed steeply. In a minute the other aeroplane was -level with him; beneath him. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> scout rose along a slant, slowing -down his engine until his pace was almost equal to that of the machine -below. Both rose steadily.</p> - -<p>The battle din ceased altogether behind him. He flew in the seeming -silence of the roar of his own engine and the deeper bass of the -other machine, just audible, below. He bent forward over his map and -picked out his approximate position. Then he noted a village some -twenty miles in rear of the battle, and drew an imaginary line from it -south-westward to the enemy's left flank. That village was to serve -as turning-point. He should reach it, he calculated, at 12.27. The -barograph indicated 3000 feet and still rising.</p> - -<p>12.25—the scout bent his eyes on the ground. A couple of minutes later -a handful of white cottages flitted past as he looked down between his -feet. His enemy could not be seen. The body of the monoplane hid him as -he flew below and slightly in rear, but the roar of his engine, louder -than the scout's own, could just be heard.</p> - -<p>Now was the time—the scout turned off abruptly at a tangent along the -line he had marked out for himself and drove his engine at its fastest. -The speedometer needle oscillated over 101 miles an hour. He calculated -that he had approximately twenty miles to go ere he reached the patch -of country he wished to explore. He should reach the commencement of -the enemy's left flank at 12.39, and be able to spend six minutes in -flying over five miles of ground and then have a couple of minutes in -hand. To the trained intellect behind his keen eyes six<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> minutes were -amply sufficient. Having run along the left flank it was simplicity -itself to turn to the right and glide down into his own lines. There -seemed nothing to stop him. The pursuing machine was being quickly left -behind. The slow biplane now far off to his right could not possibly -arrive in time. The sky in front was clear of any menace.</p> - -<p>Again he began to draw close to the great belt of dust-cloud which -stretched out to his right and again the din of battle began to -overpower the roar of his engine. Directly ahead was a dark mass of -woodland. It was from thence that the enemy's screen around the right -flank of the scout's army commenced. He swerved slightly to the left, -behind it. The hour was a second or two over 12.38.</p> - -<p>Below him was a network of country roads, and from four strands of that -network which ran in an approximately parallel direction, coincident -with his own course, arose long dense clouds of dust. It was the dust -of marching columns. The scout shot a glance back at his pursuer, -assured himself that it was five or six miles in rear, and slowed down -his engine as he entered upon a long, gradual descent over the route of -those marching columns.</p> - -<p>For mile after mile on those four roads the dust cloud continued. -The scout checked off the distances by villages on his map. Adding -the length of the four roads together he estimated that about twenty -miles of road was occupied by the marching force. It was a whole army -corps, then, that was endeavouring to turn their flank. In the open -fields between the roads he could distinguish small bodies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> of cavalry -advancing in the same direction. The mass on the roads was certainly -infantry, broken here and there by long columns of artillery. The low -dense clouds of dust kicked up by the tramp of thousands of feet were -cut into short sections where the guns and wagons of the batteries -rolled onward. From a rough calculation of those intersected clouds -he decided that four brigades of artillery were on the march. He had -descended now to 2000 feet, and he kept at that height as he roared -over the plodding columns. Behind him his pursuer had lessened the -distance between them, was getting dangerously close. The biplane on -his right was also approaching. Nevertheless, the scout held on his way -comfortably. There was nothing to prevent him carrying out his plan.</p> - -<p>He was already well beyond the prolongation of his own army's line of -battle when he reached the head of the marching infantry. Contrary to -his expectation, however, they were not wheeling to the right. They -continued straight on, marching away from the battle, it seemed. The -scout was puzzled for a moment. He searched the ground in front of him -for more troops. It was apparently empty. Then, from a fold in the -landscape considerably ahead, he saw another, smaller dust cloud arise. -At his highest speed he raced towards it, overtook it in less than -a minute. Below him a cavalry brigade, accompanied by two batteries -of horse artillery, was trotting sharply forward. What was their -objective? He scanned the country in front of them intently. Some three -miles ahead of the cavalry was a wooded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> hill. He picked it out on the -map, saw instantly that it commanded the main avenue of retreat of his -army. The enemy's plan was clear. He would occupy it with the cavalry -and the two batteries until the infantry got up. The threatened army, -then attacked in flank and rear, would find its retreat cut off. If -the scout's commander was aiming to repeat Salamanca, the enemy was -endeavouring to repeat Jackson's march at Chancellorsville. The danger -was pressing. The scout reckoned that within half an hour the hostile -cavalry would be in possession of that hill. In an hour the infantry -would begin to come up in support. Where was the Sixth Division that he -had been told would check the flank movement of the enemy? He searched -for it, saw a brown mass about two miles from the wooded hill. Its -cavalry might get there in a quarter of an hour by a rapid dash. He had -then a quarter of an hour to deliver his message and get the division -set in motion. The hour was 12.46.</p> - -<p>He wheeled towards his own line and commenced a downward glide at a -gentle angle. Then, taking his hands from the controls, he rapidly -wrote down a clear concise statement of the case in his report book. -Even if he did not reach earth, his message might. He glanced up to -see that his indefatigable pursuer was now swooping down to cut him -off. Moments were precious. He ripped out the page, thrust it into the -weighted message bag and tied it up. Then he started his engine again, -aiming for the brown mass of the Sixth Division.</p> - -<p>Something made him look to his left. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> startled to see a large -biplane rushing up at him from the direction of the wooded hill. It -had evidently descended to effect some repairs and had lain hidden -far behind his own line. He recognised it at once. It was by far the -swiftest and most powerful machine possessed by either army. On his -present course a few seconds would bring him within range of its -machine-gun. To his right the other machine was rapidly growing larger. -In front, the slow biplane had sailed over the battle lines, was -heading straight for him. The three machines were converging on him. -The scout saw that he would either be forced away from the battle or -destroyed, his message undelivered in either case.</p> - -<p>He swerved his machine and climbed. If only he could get above the -Sixth Division for an instant, he would throw over the message-bag, -chance its being picked up. To do that it was necessary to get higher. -On his present or a lower level he would be riddled with machine-gun -bullets. His adversaries on either hand rose also, but he got the lead -of them.</p> - -<p>As they rose in circles he watched for his opportunity when both should -be turned away from him. The moment came. He seized it and dived, -with his engine running at full speed. The earth rushed upwards, its -features enlarging themselves as though they swelled to burst. The -brown mass of the Sixth Division spaced itself out into battalions, -squadrons, below him, in front. They were exactly underneath. He flung -out the message-bag, with something like a prayer in his heart. On -either hand his adversaries were swooping down upon him. He thought -he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> heard the rattle of their machine-guns, but in the roar of his own -engine he could not be sure.</p> - -<p>Down and still down the three machines rushed. Suddenly he noticed the -slow biplane in front—on an even lower level than himself. It was very -close. He saw the pale dot of the face of the man behind the gun. If -he swerved he would be under its fire in a moment. If he kept on his -course he must crash into it. His decision was instant, instinctive. He -held on. One thought dominated him as he dived straight at it. Had his -message been picked up? If not——? He saw the gleaming backs of the -outstretched plane almost under him. He set his teeth for the impact. A -second more—the wide stretch of yellow canvas suddenly jerked to the -left and crumpled in a blinding flash. He had not touched. He swerved -to the right with all his force in the tiniest fraction of a second and -shot past something that fell, flaming.... A shell from below had hit -the biplane at the moment almost of collision.</p> - -<p>He had a confused sense of other shells exploding in the air. A battery -was seizing its chance to get the enemy's aircraft in a cluster, -regardless of the danger to him. He continued his rush downward, -feeling rather than knowing that the other two machines were in close -pursuit. If he could only be certain that his message had been picked -up!</p> - -<p>He flung a glance back over his shoulder. The powerful biplane that had -risen from behind the wooded hill was close upon him. Why did they not -fire? He felt himself a target, was surprised not to see the gash of -bullets on his machine. The explana<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>tion flashed on him. The gun had -jammed. The biplane came at him as though it were itself a projectile. -Its crew had desperately resolved to ram him, to sacrifice themselves -rather than to allow him to bring his precious information to the -ground. They were almost upon him. He swerved and dodged. The biplane -shot past.</p> - -<p>Immediately he saw the other machine close upon him, saw a spurt of -fire from the muzzle of its gun. He dived. A belt of trees rushed -up at him, fearfully close. Their dark foliage seemed to break into -puffs of black smoke over his eyes. He swerved instinctively, saw a -meadow burst through the dark smoke, fly skyward in a mist of blood. -With a last desperate effort he banked. His hands slid from the -controls—everything swam. He was vaguely conscious of a heavy impact -from underneath——</p> - -<p>Something was burning his throat—he opened his eyes, gazed into a -man's face close to his. Consciousness came back in a rush. He pushed -away the brandy flask that was being pressed against his teeth and -struggled to his feet. Strong arms supported him. Several men were -round him, looking at him. He was close to a road, and along that road -he thought he saw batteries of artillery galloping at full speed. -He was not certain of their reality. They passed like phantoms in -his vision, wavering up and down. He wanted to do something—to ask -something—what was it? He all but fixed the elusive thought—and lost -it. His hand felt for the duplicate report-book in his pocket—his -desire was connected with that. The report-book had gone. Then a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> -fragment of his intangible preoccupation floated, visible as it were, -in his brain. He clutched at it.</p> - -<p>"What—what guns are those?" he asked thickly.</p> - -<p>"Divisional artillery—Sixth Division," came the reply. "All right. We -got your message."</p> - -<p>The scout put his hand to his brow and then, dropping it, stared at it -stupidly. It was red.</p> - -<p>"All right," said the voice. "You're hit—but not seriously. Lie down."</p> - -<p>The scout collected all his faculties in an attempt to bring out one -more thought from the obscurity which filled his brain.</p> - -<p>"What—what time—now?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Just one o'clock." The voice appeared to recede to an enormous -distance, although he felt the speaker's face close to his. "They're in -time—don't worry. Lie down. The ambulances are coming in a minute or -two."</p> - -<p>The scout stood obstinately.</p> - -<p>"The—the other—machines?"</p> - -<p>"Bagged 'em both. You came down beautifully—like a kite." The voice -sounded from worlds away.</p> - -<p>The aviator put his hand to his head.</p> - -<p>"In time!" He breathed the words rather than spoke them. They came like -the sigh of a man utterly spent.</p> - -<p>The man who had been supporting him turned round with a jump and -focussed his binoculars on the wooded hill. A crowd of white puffs was -breaking out in the air above it.</p> - -<p>The scout, left unattended, swayed with hands stretched out like a -blind man. The field whirled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> round and round suddenly with a fearful -rapidity and then rushed up and struck him.</p> - -<p>The man with the binoculars ignored his prone body.</p> - -<p>"Beat 'em on the post!" he shouted in joyous excitement. "By the Lord! -Beat 'em on the post!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="KULTUR_1915" id="KULTUR_1915">KULTUR (1915)</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> subaltern commanding this section of the trench sat in a hunched -position in the narrow corridor of earth topped with sandbags. His -knees drawn up to serve as a support for the writing-pad, he wrote -quickly between long pauses when he bit the end of his pencil and -stared reflectively at the brown clay wall some two feet in front of -his nose. At his side a man stood, bent and motionless, peering into -the lower end of a long box, very narrow in proportion to its length, -which he held against the side of the trench so that the other end just -rose above the wall of sandbags. Further view down the trench in that -direction was barred by the traverse—the thick dividing-wall of earth -that would localise the effect of a shell-burst or a bomb. All was -quiet. The subaltern might have imagined that only he and the look-out -at his side remained buried in this flat landscape where once two -armies had flung fire and noise and steel at one another, hidden from -the sight of those who should have come to tell him that the war was -over and the armies stolen away. He did not so imagine. Ever present -to his mind was the parallel line of sandbags, some fifty yards away, -between him and which stretched a tangle of wire overgrown with rank -grasses and tufts of corn. That parallel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> line was the great permanent -fact in his existence. He knew it in its every aspect better than he -had ever previously known anything on this earth. Not a spot on that -apparently deserted wall might change without his being interested to -the quick. Even as he wrote, the feeling and the knowledge of it were -concrete in his brain, constraining him to this cramped attitude.</p> - -<p>Since October this wall of his had fronted the other wall and now it -was June. For nine long months, through snow and rain and sunshine, -from the long nights to the long pitiless days, these two walls had -remained the same, sheltering the same lurking enmities though the -individuals who temporarily incarnated them came and went. Sometimes -ablaze with stabs of darting flame, erupting bombs lobbed with a -deceptive innocent slowness through the air, belching a mass of men -who ran and stumbled and fell in an infinite variety of ways—men who -shouted and who screamed so that their voices pierced the appalling -uproar; sometimes stretching blank across the fields in a deathly -stillness as to-day; their position had never altered. The quagmire -between them, criss-crossed with barbed wire, had grown up into a waste -of grass and nodding poppies that nearly hid what looked like bundles -of weather-stained old clothes whence came a sickening, all-pervading -smell. Behind each wall, hundreds of men had died or been carried -away, maimed and broken, a lifelong burden for some human heart. Not -a sandbag of those piled to make the parapet which sheltered the -subaltern, but might have had a man's name written on it in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> memoriam -of a life suddenly extinguished. The necrology of the opposing parapet -would have been as full.</p> - -<p>In the hush which brooded over so much death—past and to come—a -pause, it would seem, where the overhanging invisible demon of war -reflected on its work—a mood of questioning, of revolt, came over the -subaltern as he scribbled his pencilled lines.</p> - -<p>"On a quiet evening like this one cannot help moralising a little," -he wrote, "wondering what it's all for and what we purchase with our -death. This constant murdering of individuals on both sides who commit -the crime of inadvertently showing an inch of head—how does this help -matters?" The sharp crack of a rifle somewhere along the trench caused -the officer to raise his head, listening with all his faculties at -strain. The look-out at his side did not stir, no report followed the -first, and he bent himself again to his letter. "I don't want to appear -squeamish, fine-stomached in this rough game, but I don't think I shall -ever be able to kill cold-bloodedly. I have been unfitted by long -centuries of culture——"</p> - -<p>He was interrupted by the appearance of another officer, who squirmed -himself round the traverse with a pronounced stoop necessitated by his -uncommon tallness. The fair-moustached, boyish face of the new-comer -was radiant with glee.</p> - -<p>"I say, Lennard!" he said impetuously. "Ripping luck! We've just bagged -Fritz! You heard the shot just now? Folwell, my sergeant, got him. Been -waiting for him for over an hour, without moving a muscle. Topping -chap, Folwell. All he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> said was, 'Married life don't seem to 'ave -spoilt my aim, sir.' You remember, he asked for leave to get married?"</p> - -<p>Lennard abandoned his letter and lit a cigarette.</p> - -<p>"I wonder whether Fritz was married," he said with a little malicious -smile, the ideas recently in possession of him firing a final shot in a -faint rearguard action with the returning everyday occupants.</p> - -<p>"Well, that's one more nuisance abated."</p> - -<p>"Rather!" said the other, seating himself and likewise lighting a -cigarette. "Fritz must have bagged not less than a dozen of our chaps," -he calculated, gazing reflectively at the thin spiral of tobacco smoke -which ascended straight in the still evening air. "Well, he's gone, -thank the Lord! and we got Hans yesterday and Karl the day before. I -must have a pot at old Hermann. If we could bag him we might hope for a -quiet life."</p> - -<p>Lennard nodded. Each one of the German snipers—if sufficiently lucky -to carry on his profession for a day or two—acquired an individuality -and a name. Hermann was an especially dangerous neighbour who lurked -somewhere in a ruined cottage that lay between the lines where they -bent away slightly from each other. He rarely fired except to kill, and -hid himself so well that not one of the numerous patrols sent out had -succeeded in discovering his lair.</p> - -<p>The two subalterns chatted awhile over their cigarettes, while the red -gold of the western sky faded into rose. They talked of the little -incidents of mess and trench, magnified by their isolation from the -main stream of life, and then, harking back, of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> things that once -had been so important to them in London town, and were now so dwindled -and remote. A year ago Lennard was a critic who was read, and Wilson, -the tall subaltern, a painter whose first success was hanging on the -line. Both were, or had been, highly polished products of what we -called, proudly, civilisation. As they talked the old scenes came back -to them, obliterating the present. At last Wilson rose, responsive to a -subtle inner sense of time measured, independent of his consciousness.</p> - -<p>"Well, so long, old thing," he said, standing up and straightening his -tall form, fatigued with so much bending. The momentary forgetfulness -was fatal. On the instant a rifle cracked and the lanky subaltern -collapsed as though his knees had been knocked from under him.</p> - -<p>"My God!" cried Lennard, limb-paralysed by this brutally tragic -reassertion of his environment. Trembling, his heart seeming to stop -and swell within him, he bent down to his friend. He touched mere -clothed flesh, heavy and inert, on which the flies had already settled. -They buzzed away, indignantly asserting their right of pasture. A -madness of anger at this wanton annihilation of a life that was -not just a dull living but an irradiation of the spirit, connoting -civilisation, highly conscious, swept over him. He burst into a torrent -of incoherent wrathful curses.</p> - -<p>"That was 'Ermann, sir," said the observer at the periscope. "I spotted -the flash, in among them bricks."</p> - -<p>Lennard rose, fiercely vengeful.</p> - -<p>"Let me look. Where did you see the flash?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Three o'clock from that bit of greenstuff in the middle, sir," -replied the man, ceding his place at the periscope. "You'll see a dark -spot—that's 'is loophole."</p> - -<p>Lennard gazed down into the mirror of the instrument. There was just -light enough for him to pick up the spot indicated.</p> - -<p>"Very good." He strode, with bent back, down the trench, muttering to -himself.</p> - -<p>It was night when, rifle in hand, he swung himself nimbly over the -parapet. For some minutes he lay flat on the ground at the other side, -not moving an inch. Over his head the crack of rifles and the loud, -rapid hammer taps of the Maxims recommenced their fusillade against the -heap of bricks. From the first shade of dusk he had arranged that a -constant enfilading fire be kept up on the sniper's lurking-place. He -had no intention of letting Hermann slip away—yet.</p> - -<p>He raised his head slightly, fixed his bearings in the gloom and then, -still prone, began to nip a way through the wire entanglements. A -German flare went up, dazzling with a ghastly light, too brilliant -for distinct vision. He lay motionless. As it descended and fizzled -out upon the ground he had a clear view of his course. He was aiming -at a point in front of the German wire, whence he could enfilade the -gap between the heap of bricks and the hostile parapet. Over his head -the hard, sharp cracks of his own men's fire followed one another -continuously. They would not cease for nearly fifteen minutes yet. -Meanwhile Hermann would be lying close. He cut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> and wrenched at the -wire and wriggled forward, grimly disdainful of the barbs that plucked -and tore his clothes.</p> - -<p>Again and again a soaring German flare stopped his progress. Clearly, -this incessant fusillade was making the enemy nervous. At each -illumination he lay as if he were one of the bundles of old clothes -that occasionally he pushed against. The British parapet darted with -fire—awoke a sympathetic crackling somewhere to the right.</p> - -<p>At last. He settled himself in a comfortable firing position, couched -in the long damp grass. An insect, unaware in its littleness of the -large death that whistled above its world, quitted a pendent blade, -explored his cheek.</p> - -<p>Crack—crack—crack! the last British rifles ceased. There was an -instant's stillness, and then yet another flare shot up from the -suspicious German trench. It fell, sizzled—illuminating the ruins that -he watched with all his faculties focussed, all his nerves coming to a -point on his trigger finger—and then the world plunged into blackness. -There was silence and impenetrable darkness.</p> - -<p>Minute after minute dragged slowly past in a dead hush. Finger on -trigger, every fibre tense, the prone figure waited. A primeval self -awoke in him—a savage who stalked and could indefinitely maintain his -ambush. His senses were as keen as though hyper-stimulated by some -strange drug. A grim, patient lust to kill reigned in him.</p> - -<p>The minutes passed slowly, slowly. He looked to one of them, not yet -arrived, as to a term. When?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> He felt it approaching, concentrated to -a still acuter degree his attention. The trigger seemed to be pressing -against his finger. What was that? Surely something was moving there in -the gloom—by the ruin. Why did not the flare he had ordered go up? His -whole soul went out in a desperate prayer for it as he held his breath -and strove with baffled eyes against the darkness.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the craved-for light shot up. Perception and trigger-pressure -were instantaneous with the flash of its discharge. A running, stooping -figure pitched headforemost before the stab of flame from the rifle.</p> - -<p>Immediately a vicious fire from the German parapet answered this -impertinence. The slayer lay still as death, listening with painfully -acute perception to the ugly <i>phat!</i> of bullets in the earth around -him. A bomb fell, burst with a deafening report and a blinding flash of -flame so close that he marvelled at his escape. By an effort of will he -choked down the cough that the fumes provoked.</p> - -<p>Rifle-fire at night is infectious. A sporadic and probably harmless -duel sputtered up and down the trenches. At last a gun, way back -somewhere, sent over a shell, and, as though obedient to this protest -from their big brother, the rifles were silenced, one by one. The -opposing trenches again lay in darkness and quiet.</p> - -<p>The subaltern, assuring himself that all was still, wriggled forward -to the body of his victim, lay full-length beside it. Quickly he ran -through the dead man's pockets, stuffed a bundle of papers into his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> -own. Then, a rifle in each hand, he crawled back to his own parapet, -climbed over and lay down. In an instant he was sound asleep.</p> - -<p>It was bright morning when he awoke. High up a lark was pouring out -its cheerful song. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, saw the two rifles, and -remembered with a smile. Close by him a man was heating some coffee in -a mess-tin over a methylated flame. He asked for some and drank it with -a pleasant physical sense of his body that was still alive, and could -drink. It warmed him. Then he remembered the papers he had taken from -the unlucky Hermann. Sipping at the coffee, he read a letter that was -among them.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Dearest Wife and Sweetheart," it ran, "I don't altogether like the -hatred of these Englishmen that your letter expresses. They only do -their duty as we do ours, and they fight well. Would all this killing -were over and we were friends again! It is in a sacred cause, I -know—we could not let our culture be stifled—but the sacrifices are -heavy. I sometimes wonder whether the old days will ever return, and -I shall once more write songs for you to sing in London and in Paris. -I can faintly hear a nightingale somewhere, or is it you?—I must -close now, as I am just ordered off to a dangerous post, and the dawn -will soon be breaking.</p> - -<p> -"All the love of<br /> -<span class="smcap">Karl</span>."<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>Lennard, moved by a sudden curiosity, looked at the superscription -of the envelope, ready addressed. Evidently the sniper had put it in -his pocket and for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>gotten to give it to his comrades before setting -out. The name was familiar. He coupled it, Karl ——. His victim was -a writer of songs that his wife loved to sing and he to hear. He sat -for a moment gazing thoughtfully at the letter, yet without definite -thoughts. Then, with a sigh, he rose.</p> - -<p>Instantly a bullet smacked against the sandbags, missing his head by a -couple of inches.</p> - -<p>"Bad shot, that," he murmured as he ducked. "Lucky thing I bagged old -Hermann!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="THE_MAGIC_OF_MUHAMMED_DIN" id="THE_MAGIC_OF_MUHAMMED_DIN">THE MAGIC OF MUHAMMED DIN</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> intense heat of the day was already a memory of uneasy sleep, -and the distant hills seen across the plain of grey, sun-baked mud -were soft in a soft sky. Right across the horizon, as seen from the -Political Officer's bungalow, stretched the mountain range, rising -from deep blue at the base through a gradation of fairy amethyst and -turquoise to a delicate pink suffusing the summits. The Political -Officer, his left elbow resting on his writing-table, his fingers -caressing the bowl of the old briar whose stem was gripped between -white teeth, tobacco-smoke wreathing away from him, contemplated it -with bent brows and narrowed eyes. The gaze of that lean face, sallow -with many Indian summers, roved not over the distant prospect, tempting -though were the transitions and flaws of changing colour on crag and -peak to left and right of the point on which his vision was fixed. -His expression was stern, the thrust forward of his clean-cut jaw -predominant. Æsthetic enjoyment of the aspect of the frontier hills -thus perfidiously beautiful in the evening light had no part in his -meditations.</p> - -<p>The curtain of the door was plucked aside. A long-robed native, -white-bearded, entered noiselessly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> bowed, with arms outstretched from -his sides, stood erect and waited for orders.</p> - -<p>The Political Officer responded with a nod to the "<i>Salaam, Sahib</i>." -His gaze detached itself from the distant view, ranged keenly over the -tall figure in front of him. Under the swathes of the green <i>pagari</i> -that narrowed the brown forehead a pair of dark eyes of strange -intensity met his own. The disturbing effect of their direct gaze was -heightened by the bushy white brows under which they glowed. The big, -beaked nose, thin-bridged, emphasized their power. The long, white -beard spreading over the breast solemnified them with a hint of ancient -wisdom. The eyes of the white sahib and the ascetic <i>Haj</i> (as his green -turban proclaimed him) met unflinchingly.</p> - -<p>"The <i>Sahib</i> asked for the fakir Muhammed Din—is it well, <i>Sahib</i>?"</p> - -<p>"It is well, <i>Haj</i>," replied the Political Officer, a twinkle in his -eye and a subtle emphasis on the title.</p> - -<p>"Did not the Prophet throw his green mantle over Ali that he might -himself escape from his enemies, O Protector of the Religion?" replied -the fakir, a little piqued.</p> - -<p>"<i>Maloom</i>" ("It is known"), said the Political Officer, curtly but with -a tone of friendliness. "I called you not to discuss the religion, but -to protect it. I have work for you, Muhammed Din—dangerous work."</p> - -<p>"It is well, <i>Sahib</i>."</p> - -<p>"An emissary of our foes is among the tribes, Muhammed Din, and is -preaching a false gospel to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> them. War and the woes of war will surely -follow if we do not still his tongue. Listen! You have heard that the -infidel Caliph Willem of the West has falsely proclaimed himself a -follower of the Prophet that he may use the power of true believers to -further his own wicked ends?"</p> - -<p>"It is known, <i>Sahib</i>."</p> - -<p>"He has sent one of his tribe, dressed as a fakir, into the hills to -preach a new Jehad. Already the <i>mullahs</i> (priests) are gathering about -him. This fakir calls himself Abd-ul-Islam, but he is a Feringhi, no -true believer, and no true friend to the religion. Yet he is leading -many astray, for he deludes them with a false magic. You will see for -yourself. You remember the magic pictures you saw at Karachi?"</p> - -<p>"I remember, <i>Sahib</i>."</p> - -<p>"It is such magic as that. There is none but Muhammed Din I might -safely trust to close the mouth of such a rogue; therefore, Muhammed -Din"—the eyes of white <i>sahib</i> and Moslem fakir again looked into -each other—"I am sending you on the mission. I asked you to come as a -fakir because I judged that to be your best disguise. You have come as -a <i>Haj</i>, which is even better. I do not want this impostor killed, if -it can be helped. I want him exposed, discredited. I send you, Muhammed -Din." He looked at him with significance as he added:</p> - -<p>"You may find an old acquaintance."</p> - -<p>The fakir stroked his long beard.</p> - -<p>"He shall be brought to you riding backwards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> upon an ass, and the -women shall mock at him' <i>Sahib</i>. I swear it."</p> - -<p>The Political Officer smiled.</p> - -<p>"None can if you cannot, Muhammed Din. Now I will explain these things -to you more fully."</p> - -<p>The Political Officer spread a map across the table and pointed out -the route of the German agent across the Persian frontier and among -the hills. His present abiding-place was fairly accurately known. -The pseudo-fakir attentively considered the ways to it. Then he drew -himself erect.</p> - -<p>"It is well, <i>Sahib</i>. I will now go."</p> - -<p>"You have a plan, Muhammed?"</p> - -<p>The fakir smiled grimly.</p> - -<p>"This dog has his false magic, <i>Sahib</i>, but Muhammed Din knows many -magics that are not false. I have sworn."</p> - -<p>"Go, then. Allah be with you!"</p> - -<p>"And with you, <i>Sahib</i>!"</p> - -<p>Muhammed Din salaamed once more, lifted the curtain, and passed out. -The Political Officer watched him go across the compound, and then bent -down to his work again with a little outbreathing of satisfaction. The -Secret Service had no more reliable man than Muhammed Din.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The squalid little village high up in a cleft of the brown and barren -hills, that gleamed golden aloft where they cut sharply across the -intense blue of the sky, was filled with an uncommon concourse of -tribesmen. And yet more were arriving. Down the stony paths which led -to the village from the heights,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> up the boulder-strewn, dried-up -stream-bed which afforded the easiest passage from below, the hillmen -hurried in little groups—a bearded <i>khan</i>, a modern rifle on his -shoulder, his cummerbund stuck full of knives, followed by a ragged -rabble of retainers, variously armed. Their weapons were mementoes -of generations of rifle-stealing and gun-running. Lee-Enfields, -Lee-Metfords, Martinis, Sniders—all were represented. Not a few -carried the old-fashioned <i>jezail</i>, the long-barrelled gun with inlaid, -curved stock. All had knives.</p> - -<p>They swarmed on the rough roadway between the squat stone, windowless -houses whose loopholes were eloquent of their owners' outlook on life. -They clustered round the stone-parapeted well in the centre of the -village, so that the women with the water-pots were richly provided -with an excuse for loitering. The clamour of excited voices resounding -from the walls was re-echoed at a fiercer shout from the steep, -towering hill-sides, stone-terraced near the village into plots of -cultivated land.</p> - -<p>This was no ordinary assemblage. From far and near the tribesmen -swarmed in, and men met face to face whose habitual encounter would -have sent both dodging to cover, rifle to the shoulder. The blood-feuds -were laid aside. Families that for months had lived in terror of -their neighbours across the village street, quitting their domiciles -stealthily by the back way when they had occasion to go out, while -the sudden rifle-shot of the concealed marksman added steadily to the -tale of vendetta victims on both sides, mingled now with the throng, -albeit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> cautiously. Men whose dwellings were a doorless tower which -they entered and left by a basket on a rope, who tilled their fields -with ever a rifle in their hand, strode now down the street, their -dark eyes roving from side to side, and passed their adversaries with -scarce a scowl. Mullahs, Koran in hand, their young disciples at their -skirts, threaded their way through the crowd, giving and receiving -pious salutation, exhorting, preaching, inflaming the fanaticism of -passions naturally fierce. The blood-feuds between man and man, village -and village, were forgotten in the reawakened, never-extinguished feud -between Islam and the infidel. Behind the priests marched men armed -to the teeth, their faces working in a frenzy, their eyes inflamed. -They were <i>ghazi</i>—wrought up to the pitch of fervour where their own -life is a predetermined sacrifice, so that they may first slay an -unbeliever, sure of immediate Paradise as their reward.</p> - -<p>Above the murmur of voices came the continual drone:</p> - -<p>"<i>La Allah il Allah!</i> There is no God but God, and Mohammed is His -Prophet!"</p> - -<p>It re-echoed down the valley in sudden shouts.</p> - -<p>Into this excited throng strode the green turban, the venerable figure -of Muhammed Din, piously telling his beads. Men jostled one another -out of his way, for this fakir was quite obviously an especially holy -man, one who had made the pilgrimage. Giving and receiving the Moslem -greeting, "May the peace of Allah be with you!" he inquired the house -of the village mullah, and made his way towards it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> - -<p>He met the priest just on the point of quitting his dwelling. The -mullah had a busy and important look. It was a great day for him.</p> - -<p>"The peace of Allah be with you!" said Muhammed Din.</p> - -<p>"And with you, O holy man!" replied the mullah. He scented an -application for hospitality. "Blessed is the day that you come to us, -for Allah worketh wonders in my village. Many have come to witness -them. Alas! that you did not come before, O holy one, or my house that -I have already given up to others would be yours!"</p> - -<p>"A corner and a crust of bread, O Mullah!"</p> - -<p>"Alas! Allah be my witness! Neither remains to me, O holy one—but I -will lodge you with a pious man when the saint whom Allah has sent to -us has finished the wonders he is about to show. I must hurry, O holy -one! for the moment is at hand. The peace of Allah be with you!"</p> - -<p>"Allah has guided my footsteps to you, O Mullah, for I have come from -a far land to see these wonders. I will accompany you, for it is His -will."</p> - -<p>"Hurry, then!" said the priest irritably, "or Shere Khan's house will -be full. Allah knoweth that I praise Him for thy coming!" he added by -way of afterthought.</p> - -<p>The house of Shere Khan, the headman of the village, was besieged by -a turbulent crowd of tribesmen, who jostled one another for entrance. -In view of the limited space within, only those known to be most -influential were admitted. They deposited their weapons as they -entered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> - -<p>Muhammed Din followed the mullah, who bustled in with an air of -great importance. The largest room of Shere Khan's house, a gloomy, -stone-walled apartment, almost completely dark since the loopholes -high up were stuffed with rags, was set aside for the occasion. More -than two-thirds of it was already filled with tribesmen, who squatted -on the floor. The remaining portion was rigidly kept clear by one or -two of Shere Khan's armed retainers. "Sit farther back, O Yakub Khan! -More space, O Protector of the Poor! Farther back, O Yusuf, lest the -miracles about to be performed by the will of Allah scorch thee! Back, -back, O children of the Prophet! I entreat ye!" The entreaty was -emphasized by sundry kicks which the sentries grinningly delivered with -a sense of the privileges proper to such an occasion.</p> - -<p>The wall at the end of the clear space was whitened. High up on the -other wall, behind the tribesmen, was a newly erected box of wood, -large enough to hold a man, supported on pillars of light timber, and -only to be reached by a ladder, of which there was at the moment no -sign. The tribesmen turned their heads curiously towards this unusual -contrivance and nudged and whispered to one another.</p> - -<p>"Behold the cage in which the saint keeps the devils over which Allah -and the Prophet have given him power!"</p> - -<p>Those who were nearest it stirred uneasily.</p> - -<p>"What if it should be the will of Allah that they break out of the -cage!"</p> - -<p>"We are God's and unto God shall we return!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> replied his neighbour -nervously, quoting the verse of the Koran which gives protection in -time of danger. "May Allah protect us!"</p> - -<p>Muhammed Din sat modestly among the throng, telling his beads with bent -head.</p> - -<p>"What thinkest thou of these wonders, O holy one from a far land?" -asked the man next to him.</p> - -<p>"The wisdom of Allah is inscrutable and much that is hidden shall be -yet revealed," replied Muhammed Din solemnly.</p> - -<p>There was a stir of expectation throughout the gloomy apartment. -The mullah entered by a door at the farther end, near the whitened -wall, uttered a sonorous benediction, and sat down, with grave -self-satisfaction, in the front row.</p> - -<p>One minute more of tense waiting—and then, amid a low murmur from the -assembly, the curtain at the far door was again lifted. The "Saint" -appeared. For a moment he stood in a dramatic pose, illumined by a ray -of light from without as he held back the curtain. Then, dropping it, -he strode solemnly forward into the cleared space. Every eye gazed -at him with an avid curiosity. The light in the doorway had revealed -him as a youngish man, despite the full beard which lent him dignity. -His stately carriage of the long Moslem robes, dimly perceived in the -gloom, was worthy of his <i>rôle</i>.</p> - -<p>He stretched out his hands.</p> - -<p>"The peace of Allah be with you!" he said in a deep tone that had only -the faintest tinge of a European accent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> - -<p>In a low deep chant of awed voices the assembly returned the salutation.</p> - -<p>"O children of the Prophet! Men of the hills! Greeting! Greeting not -from me but from the greatest Sultan of the world!" He spoke in their -own dialect, but with a strong admixture of Persian words. "Listen! Ye -know already—for his fame has passed the confines of the earth—that -the great Sultan Willem of the Franks was visited by a vision from God, -and that having had truth revealed unto him he turned aside from the -error of his ways and embraced the true faith. Written in great letters -of gold over the Sultan's palace shall ye find the sacred words: 'There -is no God but God and Mohammed is His Prophet!'"</p> - -<p>He stopped to allow his words their full effect. A murmur of wonderment -came from his audience. "A-ah! God is great! Unto Him be the praise!"</p> - -<p>He resumed.</p> - -<p>"And with him turned all his vizirs and mullahs and khans from the -false belief and called on Allah and Mohammed. I—even I, Abd-ul-Islam, -who stand before you—am one of them. The Sultan Willem issued a decree -to all his people that they should believe in the true faith—and lo! -Allah wrought a miracle and they all believed, destroying their false -mosques and building new ones to the glory of the Prophet. Great is -Allah and Mohammed His Prophet that these things should have come to -pass, O children of the Faith! They are hard of belief, for the Franks -ye well know are a stiff-necked race. Yet such it is, and my Lord the -Sultan hath sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> me on an embassy to you that I may tell you these -marvellous things. And that ye may more readily believe, Allah in His -great mercy has given me power to show you these wonders with your own -eyes." His tone took on a deeper, more sonorous solemnity. "O Allah! -Allah! In the name of the Prophet, vouchsafe that these thy children -may see the great Sultan Willem as he is at this moment!"</p> - -<p>He clapped his hands sharply together.</p> - -<p>Instantly a beam of intensely white light shot across the dark -apartment from the "cage" and fell upon the white wall at the other -end. The "Saint" stepped quickly out of the radiance. On the white -surface there suddenly appeared a lifesize portrait of His Imperial -Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm II—<i>gowned in long robes and coiffed with a -turban</i>. A gasp of astonishment broke from the peering spectators in -the dark room. Once more the "Saint" clapped his hands. The Imperial -figure walked in stately fashion straight towards the audience—seeming -that in another moment it would be walking out in the air over its -heads—stopped, stretched out its right hand, smiled. The muscles of -its face moved, the mouth opened—in a speech that none heard. "<i>Aie! -Aie!</i>" broke from the spellbound tribesmen.</p> - -<p>"Alas! that he is so far away that ye cannot hear his words!" lamented -the "Saint." "But I can hear them. He tells you to believe in me, who -am his messenger, by the grace of Allah and the Prophet. O Allah, -vouchsafe that these Thy followers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> may witness with their own eyes the -conversion of the vizirs to the true faith!" Again a clap of the hands, -and the picture on the wall changed.</p> - -<p>The tribesmen gazed at what to a Western eye would have been an -obviously cardboard imitation of an Oriental room with a dais on one -side of it. On that dais stood the figure in Moslem robes. Filling -the remainder of the room was a throng of men in German uniforms, -<i>pickelhaube</i> on their heads. They advanced one by one to the figure -on the dais, knelt, offered up their spiked helmets, and received in -exchange a turban from their graciously smiling lord.</p> - -<p>"See, O people, and believe!" cried the "Saint."</p> - -<p>"<i>Aie! Aie!</i>" came the response. "We see and we believe! God is great! -There is none great but God, and unto Him be all the praise!"</p> - -<p>"Listen! O true believers! The Holy Prophet laid a command on the great -Sultan Willem that he should immediately convert all the Frankish -nations to the true faith. And the Sultan Willem gave glory to Allah -that this command was laid upon him. He sent forth his armies in the -great Jehad. The Sultan's armies are the most numerous and bravest -in the whole world—not Timur nor Rustum might have stood against -them—and none may count the number of their victories in the great -war against the infidel Franks. Their triumphs are as the rocks on -the hill-sides, beyond reckoning and eternal. All the nations of the -Franks fled before them, and were slain like dogs as they ran. And -most of all fled before them and were slain the insolent English dogs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> -that, thinking themselves far away from the power of the Sultan Willem, -are puffed up with a vain pride and tread upon the neck of the true -believer in the land beyond the Indus—nay, who invade your hills and -lay waste your crops, seeking to destroy the one true faith. Is it not -so?"</p> - -<p>"Allah knoweth! He speaketh through thy lips, O holy one!" was the -chorused reply from the darkened room. There could be no denial of any -statement from a source of such sanctity.</p> - -<p>"Look then upon the battle and the destruction of the English dogs!" -cried Abd-ul-Islam, giving the signal once more.</p> - -<p>Immediately another picture appeared upon the wall—a picture of -pseudo-British troops, uniformed so as to be familiar to the tribesmen, -taking up a position for battle.</p> - -<p>"Watch! O children of the Prophet!" cried the wonder-worker. "Behold -the djinns which the Sultan Willem has under his command—for to him -has the Prophet given the power of Solomon—behold the djinns that go -before the Sultan's army destroying the English infidels!"</p> - -<p>Great founts of black smoke leaped up among the soldiers on the -wall—debris was flung high into the air—bodies lay upon the ground, -visible where the smoke cleared. The soldiers fired quickly from behind -cover, dodged, flung up their arms, and fell smitten by an invisible -foe. The picture, though a "fake," was cleverly done and would have -deceived more sophisticated spectators. The tribesmen did not suppress -their exclamations of awe and wonder.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Behold!" cried the showman. "The soldiers of the Sultan advance!" A -serried line of German infantry swept across the picture, bayonets -levelled, and the survivors of the defending troops fled before them. -The line changed direction and marched straight towards the spectators, -an irresistibly advancing menace, swelling larger and larger, uncannily -silent.</p> - -<p>Shrill cries of alarm broke out from the darkened room. "<i>Aie! Aie!</i> -Allah protect us! We are God's and unto God shall we return!"</p> - -<p>The line of infantry swelled to a superhuman immensity, seemed on the -point of reaching the spectators—and then there was darkness.</p> - -<p>From the gloom came the voice of the German emissary.</p> - -<p>"You have beheld, O children of the true Faith, the infidel English ran -like dogs!"</p> - -<p>"Like dogs they ran! With our own eyes we have seen it, praise be to -Allah! Death to the infidel!"</p> - -<p>"Now see the soldiers of the Prophet, the victorious army of the -Sultan, destroying the Christian mosques in the conquered country!" -announced the showman, in a voice of triumph.</p> - -<p>On the wall was thrown the picture of a Belgian village church. German -soldiers were busy about it. Then volumes of smoke began to issue from -the windows, tongues of flame. The roof fell in. The church was reduced -to a ruin.</p> - -<p>"Behold! Ye see with your own eyes!"</p> - -<p>"We see, we see! God is great! Unto Him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> be the praise!" came the reply -from the spectators.</p> - -<p>"Now see others!" cried the German. "This is the work of the Sultan's -armies—will ye now doubt that he has set his face against the -Christian infidels?"</p> - -<p>Picture after picture of ruined and desolated churches followed upon -the wall. The German authorities had evidently prepared a special film -of them. Cries of wild approbation broke from the fanatical tribesmen, -the mullahs loudest.</p> - -<p>"Once more, O people, look upon the English prisoners, whose lives -have been spared because they have embraced the true faith, being led -through the Sultan's capital!"</p> - -<p>A film of a few British prisoners from Gallipoli being marched through -the streets of Constantinople was then shown, amid shouts of applause.</p> - -<p>The picture was taken off, but the beam of light still blazed across -the room. The German placed himself full in it.</p> - -<p>"Ye have seen with your own eyes, O warriors of the hills! Praise be -to Allah for His mercies! Ye will no longer doubt. In the name of the -Prophet, the Sultan Willem, the protector of Islam, commands that ye -rise up and sweep beyond the Indus. Everywhere the power of the English -is broken. With your own eyes ye have seen it. Only on your borders do -they still keep up a vain show. Rise up, O children of the Prophet, and -sweep these dogs of infidels into the sea! The rich lands of India and -much loot will be the reward of your valour. Paradise awaits<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> those who -fall in the sacred fight! The green banner of Islam shall wave over the -entire earth, for there is no God but God, Mohammed is His Prophet, and -the Sultan Willem is His chosen instrument!"</p> - -<p>Karl Schultz felt an inward glow of triumph at his own histrionic power -as, his words ringing sonorously through the stone apartment, he stood -in the full blaze of light and raised his arm. It evoked loud shouts -of fanatic frenzy from the excited assembly. They clamoured to be led -against the infidel there and now. He kept his arm outstretched as -though to still the tumult, as though his discourse were yet unfinished.</p> - -<p>But the cries would not cease. "Great is Allah! Death to the infidel! -Death! Allah! Allah! There is no God but God! Allah! Allah! Allah! -Death to the infidel—death!"</p> - -<p>Suddenly there was a new element in the vociferation, a movement among -the assembly far back in the dark room. "Make way for the holy man with -great tidings from India! Make way for the <i>Haj</i>! In the name of the -Prophet—make way, dogs that ye are!"</p> - -<p>Schultz looked towards the venerable figure of Muhammed Din pressing -through the throng. A sudden doubt leaped up in him, was extinguished -in self-confidence. The strange fakir approached. The wild clamour of -the tribesmen was stilled in curiosity. They fell back in a sudden awe.</p> - -<p>Schultz watched the venerable stranger advance solemnly, silently, into -the blaze of light in which he himself stood. Again he was conscious of -an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> instinctive tremor. "The peace of Allah be with thee, O <i>Haj</i>!" he -said, and he found that he had deliberately to control his own voice. -There was something uncannily impressive in the advance of this silent, -dignified old man.</p> - -<p>"And with all the faithful!" came the sonorous reply, enigmatic to the -German's ears.</p> - -<p>He found himself looking into a pair of strangely disturbing eyes; -heard, with a wild reeling shock of the spirit, his own tongue spoken -in a low, level Oriental voice.</p> - -<p>"Move not a finger and make not a sound, Schultz Sahib, or you are a -dead man!" Schultz Sahib's eyes glimpsed the muzzle of a pistol not six -inches from his chest. "<i>Smile, Sahib!</i> or your friends may interrupt -us."</p> - -<p>Having once ceded to the menace of the pistol, the German's brain could -not resist the command of the imperative eyes that seemed to be boring -deep into him. He <i>smiled</i>—a deathly smile.</p> - -<p>"You have forgotten me, Schultz Sahib? It is not so long since we -worked together on the railway. One of us at least learned a great deal -about the other in those days, <i>Sahib</i>. <i>Smile!</i>—keep smiling!"</p> - -<p>A wild revolt surged up in the German, subsided, without exterior -evidence, under the glare of the dominating eyes which held his -fascinated. He tried to turn away his gaze, was checked by the level, -purposeful voice of the fakir.</p> - -<p>"Keep your eyes on mine, <i>Sahib</i>! Look elsewhere and you are dead -before you have looked!"</p> - -<p>He heard the words reverberating through him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> endlessly re-echoing in -chambers of his soul magically open to them. He felt himself fixed, -immobile, in a strange paralysis of the faculties. The terrible eyes -looked into his that he could not close—he felt, as it were, waves -of immeasurable strange force flowing from them, rolling over him, -submerging him. And yet still he looked into the eyes of the fakir, his -own eyes an open port to their influence.</p> - -<p>A subtle, pervading odour ascended his nostrils, filled his lungs, -mounted to his head. His brain grew dizzy with it. And still the -compelling eyes held him, prevented him from turning his own eyes to -the source of the odour. He lost the sense of his environment, was -oblivious to the awed tribesmen staring silently at the pair in the -blaze of light. He saw nothing but the eyes—lost consciousness of his -own body. He stared—and lost consciousness even of the eyes at which -he stared.</p> - -<p>There was vacuity, oblivion, an annihilation of time—and then out of -that vacuity a voice commenced to speak. He heard it with a shock of -the nerves—it crashed through darkness with a mighty power. He seemed -suspended like a lost spirit in everlasting night, fumbling around the -vague yet massive foundations of the world—indefinitely remote from -all that he had ever known. He could not detach himself from those -foundations. They quivered under the booming voice, communicated an -unpleasant thrill to the core of him. An awful unimaginable disaster -seemed to envelop him. The tiny germ of consciousness that was still -his fought for extension, strove to see. All was blackness—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>blackness. -And still the voice went on relentlessly, driving through darkness, -like a ploughshare thrust forward by the firm grip of a mighty and -inexorable hand. Immeasurable results seemed dependent on its progress. -He listened to it—and as he focused himself on the listening, a dim -perception of his environment came to him. He was vaguely conscious -of a sea of faces, upturned, listening—as he himself listened. Those -faces—they were in some relation to him, there was a link between them -and him—he could not determine it. He listened. The words rang like -sounding brass, the vowels roaringly sonorous, the consonants clashing. -He concentrated himself on their meaning—penetrated to it suddenly as -through veils smitten asunder.</p> - -<p>"<i>Lies and again lies, O children of the Prophet! A mockery of lies! -The Sultan Willem is a servant of Shaitan who feigneth religion that he -may lure true believers to their damnation while they unwittingly serve -the Evil One!</i>" His perception leaped up, clawing at danger, and then -was dragged down again, engulfed. He felt himself like a man drowning -in black waters at night—down—down—and then, fighting obscurely, he -shot up again, heard the inexorable voice continuing: "<i>This magic you -have looked upon is a false magic—the magic of unbelievers in league -with Eblis!</i>" He heard the re-echoing denunciation in a spasm of full -consciousness—was suddenly cognizant of the sea of faces, of fierce -passions exhaling from it—was completely aware of the menace of utter -ruin. A great revulsion surged in him. This must be stopped—stopped! -The necessity for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> instant protest was an anguish in him. All of -himself that he could summon from the darkness as his own shrieked -the negative, and yet he did not utter a sound—knew that he did not. -"<i>Climb up into that box some of you, and ye shall find no magic but -a Frank there!</i>" He strained with all his soul towards the faculty of -speech—felt his powers vanquishing the spell of dumbness—on the verge -of utterance shaped his words of denial. "<i>Lo! have I not spoken the -truth? Yea, I cannot speak other than the truth, for I am the runaway -servant of Muhammed Din, and his sanctity hath broken the compact -between me and the Evil One!</i>" In staggering horror he realized—<i>the -voice was his own</i>!</p> - -<p>He stood fixed, incapable of movement, and saw—like a man that has -dreamed and cannot yet distinguish dream from reality—the mob of -tribesmen surging obscurely in the long stone room, saw the blinding -white eye of the lantern still shining steadfastly upon him—saw it -waver, swing from side to side, and then, with one last blinding flash, -disappear. In the utter darkness he heard shouts and shrieks and fierce -derisive laughter. He heard crash upon crash as heavy objects were -flung from a height at the other end of the room. He heard a piercing -yell, an agonized, appealing utterance of his own name. For a brief -second it shocked him into complete consciousness—<i>his operator</i>! -Then, ere he could break his invisible bonds, he felt a pair of cool -hands pressed tightly against his brow, over his eyes, and he relapsed -totally—with a last little gasp—into nothingness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> - -<p>He awoke again to see the tribesmen surging round him, fiercely -shouting. The room re-echoed with reiterated cries of "<i>Sharm! -Sharm!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> and a howl that was so unmistakably for blood that it -chilled him to the heart. The room was lighter now—the rags had been -pulled down from the high loopholes in the wall. He saw Muhammed -Din standing before him, fending off his adversaries. He was still -incapable of voluntary movement. A great faintness swept over him. He -reeled back; found himself supported by the angle of the wall. He had -been thrust back there all unconscious of the movement.</p> - -<p>Dazed and sick, he heard Muhammed Din speaking.</p> - -<p>"O children of the Hills, Allah and His holy Prophet sent me to you to -rescue you from the snare of the Evil One. On me is laid the charge -of vengeance upon this wretch, who was my slave ere he became the -possessed of Shaitan. But this much of vengeance will I grant ye, for -this much is just. He made a mock of you. Make ye a mock of him. Let -him be driven out of the village, face tailwards upon an ass. The women -and children shall cry derision upon the runaway servant who came to -deceive you as a saint with the false magic of Shaitan!"</p> - -<p>Staring speechlessly before him, the exposed charlatan heard the howls -of approval of the mob. His faintly working intellect wondered how the -mullah was taking this deception—perhaps even yet—— He saw Muhammed -Din hold up a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> bag of money. He recognized it with a last -hopelessness.</p> - -<p>"This gold"—Muhammed Din emptied some of it upon his hand—"this gold -hath my servant surely received from Shaitan. It is accursed unless -some holy man receive it. Therefore to you, O Mullah, do I give it."</p> - -<p>The mullah snatched at it.</p> - -<p>"Great is Allah and for the meanest of His creatures doth He provide!" -he said. "Thou speakest truth, O holy fakir. Praise be to Allah that I -am here to protect the faithful from the accursed magic of this gold. -As to this wretch, accursed of Allah, let him be driven quickly forth -as thou sayest, O holy one! It is meet that thy vengeance should not -have to linger."</p> - -<p>There was a rush at the fallen magician. He swooned into their arms.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Some little time later, when the last stone had been flung and the last -epithet of mocking insult had ceased to echo from the hills, Schultz -Sahib, his hands bound behind his back, his feet tied under the belly -of his mount, raised his eyes from the ass's tail that he had been -contemplating.</p> - -<p>"Thou hast won, O Muhammed Din—but even yet I do not understand. What -happened?"</p> - -<p>The fakir smiled.</p> - -<p>"Thou hast thy magics, Schultz Sahib—what thinkest thou of the magic -of Muhammed Din? Hurry, O Willem, hurry!" he cried, as his stick -descended with a resounding thwack upon the hind-<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>quarters of the ass. -"Thou art laggard in thy invasion of the territories of the English!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Political Officer listened to the story, and, embracing hypnotism -in the studies of his exile, made a note of it.</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Sharm</i>, a stain of dishonour that can only be obliterated -in blood. The conception that underlies the blood-feud.</p></div></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> - -<p class="ph2"><a name="THE_OTHER_SIDE" id="THE_OTHER_SIDE">THE OTHER SIDE</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A deep</span> silence brooded over No. 3 Ward, Officers. It was late afternoon -in October, but the room was as yet unillumined from within. The two -long lines of windows that confronted one another—the ward was a -temporary hut-building—did so in a contrast of lights, the eastern -windows, backed by grey obscurity, reflecting broken beams of the glory -of gold and purple and fiery red that streamed in from the west. The -two lines of beds, the indistinct greys and whites of the ward, were -delicately touched by the warm glow where they rose into its radiance. -It picked out the short curves of the turned-back sheet, humped with -the recumbent form beneath, in an imponderable caress upon the broken -humanity that lay, desperately finite, under the splendour that knows -no final setting. A mingled odour of disinfectant and anæsthetic hung -in the air, explanatory of the dead quiet, of the heavy breathing that -was part of the silence. This was a ward of the severely wounded, -recently arrived. From the utmost climax of human effort, thunderous to -the ear, dreadful to the eye, maddening to the soul whether it exulted -triumphant over the menace of instant extinction or shrank appalled and -paralysed in the horror of brutal death, from the fierce superiority of -the un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>scathed killer, from the sudden shock, these men had come, many -of them unconsciously, by train and ship and train and car to the white -and green hospital on the empty moorland, to the hushed screened peace -of the bed-ranked ward.</p> - -<p>At the further end of the ward a Medical Officer stood in murmured -conversation with a Sister. He was outlined black against the radiance -of the sunset, but on her the glow fell fully illuminant, rosy upon the -starched whiteness of the coif and apron, touching the pale face into -faint colour. Her large, serious eyes rested upon him, attentive to his -instructions, glanced away to the patient in the end bed as he spoke.</p> - -<p>"Number Ten must be very carefully watched, Sister," he said, the -little smile upon his face indicative only of his confidence in the -quiet young woman before him, in no way minimising the gravity of his -words. "I am afraid we are going to have a very hard fight for him. But -we mustn't let him slip through our fingers. We'll keep him on this -side if we can."</p> - -<p>She assented with a nod of the head, and a long deep breath that was -clearly a sigh. He scrutinised her sharply.</p> - -<p>"You have something on your mind, Sister. No bad news, I hope?" His -voice was very kind. "Captain Hershaw is all right?"</p> - -<p>The Sister's engagement was generally known in the hospital.</p> - -<p>The large eyes opened, revealing a mute, long-suffered anxiety.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It is more than a week since I heard from him, Doctor. I am -afraid—horribly afraid," she said in a low voice. "This terrible -fighting——!"</p> - -<p>"The post is sometimes held up during active operations, Sister. You -must not be prematurely anxious. A week is not very long. You must -believe in his luck. He has had a charmed life so far," the M.O.'s -kindly smile emphasised his reassuring tone.</p> - -<p>"He has—he has. And life always seems so—so vivid in him. I cannot -imagine him"—her voice sank almost to inaudibility—"dead."</p> - -<p>"Don't!" He smiled, full of sympathy. "Believe in his star." His tone -changed to the professional. "Would you like to go off duty, Sister? I -will speak to the Matron. A car is going into town. Go and look at the -shops."</p> - -<p>"No—no, Doctor, thank you very much. I won't leave my dear boys here. -Poor lads! it does me good to fight for them—almost as if——" she -stopped, turned away.</p> - -<p>"Very well, Sister. Send for me if any change occurs in Number Ten."</p> - -<p>The M.O. walked down the ward, throwing little glances at the silent -patients, and departed.</p> - -<p>For some little time the Sister busied herself noiselessly about the -ward. Then Number Ten stirred uneasily in his bed.</p> - -<p>"Sister!" he called in a faint voice.</p> - -<p>She was by his side in an instant.</p> - -<p>"A drink, please!"</p> - -<p>She gave it him, looked down on the young, strongly masculine features -as he drank, with an interest that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> was subtly, unconsciously more than -professional. From the moment of his arrival in the ward—even in his -silences—Number Ten had been a personality. Though powerless in bed -there was a curious hint of brute force in him.</p> - -<p>"Now you must go to sleep again, Captain Lavering," she said, smoothing -his pillow.</p> - -<p>"I can't, Sister." His eyes closed and opened again in a spasm of pain. -"I—I want to feel someone near me," his voice was very weak, "to get -hold of life again. Sister, sit beside me—for a moment, please."</p> - -<p>She glanced at him irresolutely, smoothed the hair from his hot -forehead with a cool hand, and then acceded to his request, seated -herself on the chair by the bed.</p> - -<p>"But you mustn't talk!" she warned him.</p> - -<p>"I won't, Sister!" He was quiet for a moment. "Sister! I'm very bad, I -know—but I'm not going to die! I won't die—I won't let myself die!" -Despite his weakness, there was intense will-power in his tone.</p> - -<p>"Hush, hush! Of course you are not going to die." Involuntarily, -she laid her hand upon the bed as if to transfuse some of her own -life-force into him.</p> - -<p>He reached out a hand, grasped hers, resisted her attempt at withdrawal.</p> - -<p>"Please!—please!" he murmured. "I want to hold on to life—there's so -much——" His eyes closed sleepily. "I feel life flowing into me," he -said. The grip on her hand was tight.</p> - -<p>For a long time she sat thus, her hand clasped in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> his. Number -Ten slept, with heavy breathing. It seemed to her that his fever -diminished. She feared to withdraw herself lest she should awaken him. -The long ward was deathly still.</p> - -<p>Presently there was a noise of footsteps. An orderly approached, -changing his gait to a clumsy tip-toe in obedience to her gesture.</p> - -<p>"A telegram for you, Sister," he said.</p> - -<p>She glanced at the patient, essayed to release her hand. It was firmly -held in the sleeper's grasp.</p> - -<p>"Open the telegram, Thomson," she said in a whisper.</p> - -<p>The orderly obeyed, handed her the drab piece of paper.</p> - -<p>She took it, glanced at it, nodded a speechless dismissal to the -orderly.</p> - -<p>"<i>The War Office reports that Ronald is missing believed killed -Hershaw.</i>"</p> - -<p>The words branded themselves into her brain as she sat there fixed, -immobile. She could hear them in the wailing cry of the widowed mother -who had written the telegram, but her own voice seemed to her for -ever dumb, never to break this crushing silence. She stared—with dry -eyes—straight before her. The obsequial lights of the departed sun, -framed by the window opposite, were extinguished one after another. She -did not stir, was unconscious that her hand was still in the grasp of -the wounded man. "<i>The War Office reports</i>——" It was like staring at -a high, closed door.</p> - -<p>An immeasurable time passed before an orderly entered, switched on the -electric light, drew the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> blinds. She roused herself, found the grip -upon her hand relaxed. She rose—with tight lips and burning eyes, went -about her duties.</p> - -<p>That evening it was by an effort of will, sternly administered, that -she sat at table in the Sisters' messroom. She scarcely ate, was deaf -to the feminine chatter around her. One of the sisters, a notorious -flirt, joked her upon her loverlike posture with Number Ten. The -orderly had evidently talked. Sister Braithwaite did not reply. As soon -as possible she fled to her little matchboarded cubicle.</p> - -<p>By her bedside was a photograph of a clean-featured young man, with -intellectual eyes, more than ordinarily vivid in their expression. She -kissed it passionately—"Ronald! Ronald!"—the loved name came from the -depths of her. The merciful tears fell fast, her bosom heaved.</p> - -<p>She slept with a packet of letters pressed tight against her warm body.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She heard her name called: "Mary! Mary!" in a startlingly familiar -voice. She heard herself reply: "Ronald!" It was very dark. Where was -she? Ah, by the stream. It seemed queerly natural that she should be by -that stream. It was not so dark after all—only twilight. Twilight with -dark woods coming down to the stream. Her name was called again: "Mary! -Mary!" her lover's voice impatient. Again she heard herself reply: -"Ronald! Where are you?" "Here, dear! On the other side! You must cross -the stream."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> - -<p>Of course! She must cross the stream—that was quite natural—and there -was a little footbridge, offering passage. She went over, not daring to -look down. On the other side she waited. He was not yet visible. She -wondered what suit he would be wearing, wondered why she wondered. He -came towards her, his clothes curiously more conspicuous than his face. -He was clad in his old tweed suit, and mysteriously it seemed odd to -her. Yet what else should he be wearing? It was the suit he always wore -when out for a walk. She glanced at her own clothes with a subtle sense -of strangeness, yet it was her old summer frock she wore. This little -puzzle about clothes played itself out in cosmic depths of her, receded -or was solved, vanished. Her lover was standing at her side, enfolded -her.</p> - -<p>"Mary! I have been so anxious about you!"</p> - -<p>She looked up to eyes that seemed like stars in the twilight.</p> - -<p>"I, too, Ronald—I have been worrying about you." There was a sense of -something terrible in the background, imminent, and yet she felt it had -been with her for a long time. It ceased. "But everything's all right -now—I have found you."</p> - -<p>A little glimmering something in the depths of her asked why she said -that, seemed to repeat doubtfully: "Found you——" in a long, eternally -re-echoing voice. She felt eerie. It was as though her existence was a -duplicate imperfectly combined, like the double vision, half running -into each other, of badly adjusted binoculars.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I am so glad you are safe, dear," she heard herself say.</p> - -<p>"Let us go and hear the nightingales," he said in the voice so -ringingly his own. He drew her along the path in the twilight, his arm -about her waist.</p> - -<p>Nightingales? Now? Of course, why not? The season was early June—what -was the silly half-thought submerged beyond the horizon of her mind?</p> - -<p>She allowed herself to be impelled by the pressure of his arm. Closely -linked, they followed the tenebrous path by the wood, climbed skirting -its dark edge. Her lover talked copiously and interestingly as he -always did—on a multitude of subjects. He was humorous, satirical, -rhapsodic, earnestly eloquent by turns. How like him it was! She -admired the wide range of his mind. Much more easily than usual—she -realised it in a little glow of self-flattery—she comprehended him all -through a long and intricate disquisition. Yet lurking somewhere in her -dream-consciousness was the feeling that there was an all-important -topic on which he did not touch. A part of her tried to identify that -topic and failed. The failure worried her. He talked of travel, of -a trip into Germany through the Black Forest, across Lake Constance -into Austria and the Tyrol. Of course! That was to be their honeymoon -tour. In the days before—before what?—before something—they had -often talked about it. They were not even officially engaged then—she -remembered how they used to laugh together over these distant projects -that were treated as imminent facts. They had even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> had a little -quarrel over the choice of two alternative stopping places. She came -back to his voice.</p> - -<p>"Listen!" he said. "Listen!"</p> - -<p>A nightingale was singing with supernatural power. Loud, thrillingly -resonant under the stars that now powdered the sky, the song welled -out to them. Its burden, mysteriously comprehended by them to esoteric -depths, was sorrow—the sorrow of all the world, here completely -expressed, transmuted into so strange a beauty that the listener held -his breath. The deep sobs, shudderingly repeated, that threw off the -magic runs of crystal sound, pervaded the atmosphere about them with -a mystic spell, evoked an immense pity in them. They could have wept. -Suddenly they were conscious of a perfidy in this magically induced -compassion—a danger, common to both, implied in it, imminent. He flung -his arms about her to protect her, shielding her from it.</p> - -<p>"You are mine, dearest!—mine!—only mine!"</p> - -<p>His words went ringing through the stars, passed out of hearing, -but were not silenced. She felt kisses of intense fervour upon her -mouth—responded.</p> - -<p>"I am!" she cried. Her words also rolled away endlessly, as though -permuted into imperishable brass. "I am yours alone!"</p> - -<p>She half-woke in the feeling of a near presence, then sank again into a -sleep that remembers not its dreams.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She awoke in the morning obsessed by the baffling sense of an -occurrence she could not recall. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> the memory, the realisation of -her loss flooded in on her—harshly predominant in those first empty -moments as yet unlinked to the distractions of the day. She wept, -uncontrollable tears. "Ronald! Ronald!" she cried in a low voice, her -face buried in the soft pillow. Then she remembered. Her tears were -checked. The details of her dream opened one by one, stirred in her a -curious, subtle fear she felt unworthy of her. The vividness of it woke -an atavistic emotion, the shrinking reaction of primitive humanity from -the influence of those dead to this world. Yet a more recent growth in -her tried to glory in the contact—impelled by an obscure sentiment of -duty. "I do love you, Ronald!" she murmured again to the pillow. "I am -yours alone!" The saying of the words seemed to merge her dream-life -into unison with the actual.</p> - -<p>There was much to do in the long, freshly-aerated ward that morning. As -one by one each bed had its sheets turned back, exposing the gashed, -perforated or fractured bodies of men who winced with pain, the crude -other side of war was laid bare. Into strong relief, too, was thrown -the complementary phase of the other side of the vast catastrophe where -the noblest are proudly conscious of the wounds they inflict. With -tender care, the utmost solicitude not to cause one unnecessary pang of -suffering, the khaki-clad doctors, the grey-uniformed, white-coifed and -aproned nurses, laboured to save and heal.</p> - -<p>Sister Braithwaite thrust herself utterly into her daily task of -dressing wounds, of soothing pain, of bringing a cheerful smile on to -the face of the sufferer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> - -<p>So doing, she eluded for quite long periods the obsession which haunted -her.</p> - -<p>Number Ten was once more the focus of interest in the ward. His -condition had grown worse during the night. To-day he was in a -dangerous fever. The doctor was grave. Sister Braithwaite watched over -him with unremitting care, found herself passionately fighting off -death. In the early afternoon the crisis passed. He woke from a quiet -sleep, looked up to the Sister standing by his bed.</p> - -<p>"You have saved me, Sister," he said in a weak voice. "I could feel -it——"</p> - -<p>"Hush, Captain Lavering. Go to sleep. We are all trying to get you -well."</p> - -<p>"It was you," he said faintly, as his eyes closed once more.</p> - -<p>The silence of the ward was suddenly broken by a merry peal of bells -floating in through the open windows. In the little village church -tucked away in a near-by hollow of the moor a wedding was being -solemnised. Sudden tears, a strange emotion, surged up in Sister -Braithwaite.</p> - -<p>A case that had made good progress was removed from the ward, a -newly-arrived, severely-wounded man brought in.</p> - -<p>"If only it were Ronald!" The neat, prim figure of the Sister, -supervising the orderlies busy lifting the casualty into the bed, gave -no indication of the desperate agonised prayer.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She dreamed.</p> - -<p>"——Mine at last, my beloved—really mine!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> The familiar voice -thrilled through her, very close, overhead.</p> - -<p>"Yours! Always yours!" she heard herself murmur.</p> - -<p>She took her head from the darkness that obscured her vision—it was -his coat against which she had been nestling; she saw the little white -touzled-up hairs of the rough tweed ere her gaze stretched to longer -focus. She looked to his face, met his vivid eyes—looked round at her -surroundings.</p> - -<p>They were alone in the first-class compartment of a railway train -that rocked and roared. His lips were pressed on hers. "The great -day, dearest!" he said. Her mind leaped to the allusion. Their -wedding-day! They had been married that morning—she could hear still -the joyous peal of bells—were going away on their honeymoon. The -tweed suit he wore was quite new—something like the old. She was in a -travelling-dress that he had already admired. Of course! It all came -back to her as if she had just awakened from a little sleep.</p> - -<p>The train rushed on. She lived through all the cinematograph-like -pictures of the journey. A halt and descent—little anxieties about -the luggage—then—after an interlude which was vague—another -train, another long journey—all was a continuous long experience. -She thrilled at a surreptitious squeeze of his hand—ah, yes, there -were other people in the carriage now—rounded her lips at him in a -provoking similitude of a kiss, daringly profiting by the inattention -of their fellow-travellers. A yearning for him—induced by the naughty -little act—filled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> her breast, persisted. There was bustle, confusion. -They were in a throng of travellers who hurried. Hurry! They must not -lose the boat. It lay there before them, only its upper works seen, its -two great funnels leaning backward, belching black smoke. The black -smoke spread over the sky. It was night. They were on board the boat, -cradled in an easy motion, sensible of the throb of the engines. On -and on they journeyed, linked in a very close communion of eyes that -spoke, of hands that squeezed each other. She tasted a thousand little -kindnesses. How good he was! How loving!</p> - -<p>And still the journey went on. Yet more trains. She must have slept. -She woke to a great city, filled with innumerable inhabitants, all -very busy. They spoke a strange language very rapidly to one another. -She could not understand a word. But he, Ronald, understood—conversed -with them in their foreign tongue. How clever he was! There was music -somewhere—from a lighted café that flooded a damp street with radiance.</p> - -<p>She was bewildered in a variety of new and strange impressions, leaned -on him, soul and body. He led her, sure of himself. Her love for him -seemed to increase at this revelation of his unfailing self-reliance. -Yet she knew that she loved him with all her being, had always loved -him so.</p> - -<p>"And how do you like Brussels, dearest?" his ringing voice asked. -Brussels? Of course! As though a veil had fallen from her eyes she -saw that they were in the middle of the Grand' Place, lights playing, -Rembrandtesque, on the carved stonework<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> of the ancient buildings. She -recognised it at once—how accurate the picture postcards had been! -Brussels—the honeymoon journey! She thrilled with happiness, leaning -on his strong arm.</p> - -<p>The dream continued——.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>All through the next day its vividness haunted her. At times she had -to will herself to live in the actual world. She scarcely spoke. The -Medical Officer in charge of her ward stopped her, asked her if she -were all right, his eyes searching her face. He sympathised with her in -her loss so kindly and gently that she loved him for it.</p> - -<p>Number Ten was still the great preoccupation. He claimed incessant -care. But he was in the faint beginnings of good progress. Strangely, -it seemed that when she tended him there was a conflict in some obscure -part of her. There seemed to be an inarticulate voice, immensely -remote, vaguely minatory, not explicit. Captain Lavering insisted that -she was his rescuer, his eyes more eloquent than his words. It made -her feel awkward, curiously shame-faced. His reiteration threw her out -of that smile-armoured impersonal professional relation to the patient -which alone makes continuous hospital work possible. She masked her -face with a gentle severity. When he slept she was unreasonably glad. -But she liked tending him. The contact with actual life, pain-stricken -though it was, obliterated to some extent the haunting memory of that -dream world from which she shrank, vaguely frightened.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> - -<p>She forced herself to live only in the long, quiet, bright ward; in the -chattering society of the Sisters' messroom when off duty.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Her dream linked itself onto its predecessor. The honeymoon was -finished. She looked back down a long vista of travel, of happy days. -She had really lived through all those experiences. She picked them one -by one from her memory like rare pieces from a jewel-case, contemplated -them with a smile. Each expanded into a picture. The day they had -walked together down the rugged path of the tiny valley imprisoned in -the wooded hills, a fierce little stream outpacing them as it dashed -against great boulders, and had come upon a sunny meadow where children -garlanded with flowers laughed and danced in a ring; a wonderful blue -lake on whose shores were yellow houses with red roofs and ancient -cypresses on a greensward near the water's edge—the melancholy -reiterated note of a church bell beat like a pulse through the scene; -an old, old town with gabled houses leaning in close confidence, rich -carvings—the grotesque; in all was a pervading peace, rich quiet life -that thrives sleepy with well-being from year to year; over all was the -ecstasy of mutual love through which they had beheld the world.</p> - -<p>Another memory came to her—early morning in the Alps, a sea of wild -narcissi all about them and, beyond, the great white peaks glittering -in the sun of a blue sky. They went on and on, up and up. The flowers -were left behind—and she remembered she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> had regretted leaving them, -had grudged the effort to climb for the sake of climbing—but he had -insisted. They stood at last high up, dazzlingly white snowfields -stretching away on every side, a summer sun beating hot upon them. -The air was rarefied, induced in them a subtle ecstasy as they stood -marvelling at the brilliant austere beauty of the great peaks lifting -themselves into the sky, their robes slipping from their rocky -shoulders in a miracle of purity. He encircled her waist with his arm, -spoke in the voice that stirred mysterious depths in her.</p> - -<p>"Dearest," he said. "Not a flower but snow is the true emblem of -love. White as the essential soul, how soon on the lower levels it is -defiled, disappears! But on the heights it endures stainless for ever, -no matter how hot the kiss of the sun."</p> - -<p>And she had kissed him, speechlessly.</p> - -<p>But all this was past. She was at home now, waiting for him to come -back from his work. Their home, the home they had always planned, was -all around her. The very pieces of furniture they had regarded in shop -windows with longing eyes, had calculated the cost of, were there. -That quaint old table in the centre of the room, half covered with the -embroidered openwork white linen laid for tea—how covetously they -had once looked on it! How depressed they had been at the dealer's -price! But it was there, after all. Ronald had bought it, he who never -rested until he attained his heart's desire. How purposeful he was! How -strong! How loving-kind! She closed her eyes, leaned back in a swimming -ecstasy of love.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<p>There he was! She heard his footstep at the other side of the door. -He entered, was radiant, enfolded her in that wonderful embrace where -she was a surrendered thing. He had a little parcel, handed it to -her. Tremblingly she opened it, certain of delight. It was a framed -enlargement of a photograph they had taken that morning in the high -Alps. With a little happy cry she gazed once more on the long smooth -slopes of snow, stretching up to the dark-patched peaks. Once more his -arm encircled her, his deep voice spoke.</p> - -<p>"So shall we live, darling, always—ever upon the heights."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She lay awake in her bed, ere it was day, and understood in a great -tremulous awe. In her dreams she and Ronald were living precisely the -life they would have lived had there been no war. The honeymoon—their -home—all would have been accomplished ere this. Had there been no war! -Exactly as she had dreamed they would have travelled together—his arm -would have enfolded her—in long, long happiness they would have lived. -She burst into a passion of tears, stifled in the pillow. Then she -turned her head, wondering, feeling as if her heart had stopped. Would -this dream continue? Was it—in some mysterious way—<i>real</i>? Her lips -moved in a prayer, but she scarcely knew what she prayed.</p> - -<p>She was glad to escape into the busy actual life of the ward, into the -light of day.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> - -<p>From now onwards her life definitely assumed this double phase.</p> - -<p>In the hospital she was the Sister Braithwaite that all had known, -diligent, bravely smiling, conscientious in her duty. Those about her -remarked only that there was sometimes a curious stillness in her mien, -spoke pityingly among themselves of the sad loss of her soldier lover. -But death in a hospital is no rare catastrophe and none lingered on the -topic. There was much to do, a continual stream of new arrivals from -the distant conflict, the doubtful fate of many of those already long -suffering. There were deaths, recoveries, operations of professional -interest.</p> - -<p>Number Ten went slowly but steadily towards health. Sister Braithwaite -deliberately avoided all contact with him save the professional. -When she chatted with a patient in the ward it was not with him. His -gaze was reproachful, and she would not see it. Sometimes when she -approached him he would, half-jokingly, reiterate that she had saved -him. She would not hear. A strange sense of insecurity disturbed her -in his presence. She half divined that he nursed a project——. She -fled the glance of the steady, resolute eyes in the strong face. -When at last he had made such progress that he could be removed to a -convalescent ward she was glad at his departure.</p> - -<p>At night she passed into another world. There was no war in that -life—never had been war. From dream to dream she lived through a -continuous existence—the wife of Ronald. It was all vividly real. It -was the life they would have led—it played<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> itself out now in what to -her daytime consciousness was a realm of shadows. Not always did she -dream, or rather not always did her consciousness register the events -through which she passed. But later dreams had dream-memories in them -and the record had no gaps. Time passed in that dream-world without -relation to the terrestrial days. In one night she frequently lived -through long periods. He was always kind to her, always loving. She, -too, loved him passionately, with all her soul.</p> - -<p>But in the daytime her being shrank from that shadow-life. She was -afraid—mysteriously, primitively afraid. She could not mourn as -she would have liked to mourn. Sometimes she asked herself whether -she was not ceasing to love her dead affianced. She tried to evoke -his image—and often, to her distress, succeeded not. The strongly -masculine features of Number Ten, Captain Lavering, rose before her -mental vision, would not be banished. Then she despised herself -bitterly. In remorse she willed herself forward to the night, bade -herself not shrink, and when the hour came gave herself to the darkness -tremulously, like a slave of the harem who goes into the chamber of -her lord. The portal passed she was happy, completely happy—as happy -as she would have been the wife of Ronald in the dainty little home -that never could be other than the home of her dreams. With strange, -almost terrifying, completeness the shadow-life evolved. The house she -lived in she knew in all its details, had its rooms that she preferred, -views from its windows that she loved or veiled. The presence of her -husband was a reality<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> that filled it. She knew his footsteps, heard -his voice. (It rang often in her ears when her eyes unclosed in the -little matchboarded cubicle suddenly unfamiliar.) They had long, long -conversations together—wonderful little interludes where their always -underlying love blossomed into delicate flower. She saw his face -clearly, saw that it was changing slightly, growing more set, less -boyish. There were difficulties—the difficulties of real life—to be -encountered. An anguished struggle with bills and finances that would -not meet wrung her soul all one night. She pledged herself to such -brave economies! But the difficulties were overcome, the memory of them -lost in the embrace of her lover. Rarely, rarely was she unhappy until -she woke.</p> - -<p>And day by day, not keeping pace with her other life, her life of work -in the hospital went on. Week linked into week, month into month. The -great open moors around her changed their hue, were often shrouded in -mist. In December the first frosts glassed the pools. Many were the -patients who had come and gone. The little cemetery under the hill was -fuller. Other sufferers were more fortunate. Captain Lavering was fully -convalescent, nearing his discharge. She saw him often at a distance, -avoided him when he tried to approach her. She could not have explained -why, even to herself. Somewhere deep down in her, the virility of -his aspect set a chord vibrating. She was always extremely, almost -painfully, conscious of his propinquity. For many weeks they had not -exchanged a word.</p> - -<p>There came a night wonderful above all others.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> She thrilled with -a strange new ecstasy, drawn from deep springs. It was the quiet, -speechless ecstasy of some mysterious fulfilment. She was filled with -a great tenderness that welled up and overflowed like a source. There -was something warm against her heart. She looked down and saw that it -was a newborn babe. She was in bed. Then, in a great surge of deeply -flowing joy, she understood. She was a mother—the mother of Ronald's -child! She could have cried for joy that lacked expression. Her fingers -stroked thin silky hair on a tiny head.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she was aware that Ronald was looking down on her. She yearned -up to him, but as she did so she was conscious that her allegiance was -divided. Not all of her, as heretofore, reached out to him undividedly -his. There was a dumb insistent claim at her breast. She smiled to -disguise it.</p> - -<p>But it seemed that he understood. His face was troubled, the vivid eyes -reproachful. He leaned over her.</p> - -<p>"Dearest," he said. "I cannot share you. The child must never be more -than the symbol of our love. You must be mine—always mine. Promise me -that you will always be mine alone!"</p> - -<p>His jealousy flattered her. A gush of affection for the strong lover -admitting her power, mingled with the mother-craving for protection for -self and child, was a fresh impulse revivifying the old allegiance:</p> - -<p>"Always yours, dearest—always yours!"</p> - -<p>He looked at her searchingly, his head seeming like a carven figure of -destiny, strangely significant.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I could annihilate the thing that comes between us," he said, -and she was a little frightened at his voice. It rolled away big, -superhuman—she harked back, in a flitting thought, to an earlier -dream-memory.</p> - -<p>He turned to a picture on the wall, pointed to it. It was the Alpine -scene.</p> - -<p>"You and I," he said. "Always together—alone upon the heights."</p> - -<p>"Yes! Yes!" she said, only half understanding. "Always—always yours!"</p> - -<p>She woke with a start, her own voice ringing in her ears. Night was -still a blackness in the little cubicle. She put out her hand, touched -the matchboard wall to assure herself of her surroundings.</p> - -<p>When she woke again it was to look through the window and see the world -white with snow. She remembered with some pleasure that she was off -duty, had the day to herself. She wanted to be alone. Her head was a -whirl of troubled thoughts. The emotions of her dream were still in her -blood. Her arms felt vacant as though an infant had just been taken -from them. A new longing came up in her—a craving for motherhood. She -linked it to her dead lover. "Oh, Ronald!" she murmured. "If only we -had been married before you went to the war——" she left the thought -unfinished. The craving persisted, apart from his memory. She ached -for a real, living affection in this world of men and women. Strange -thoughts haunted her while she dressed.</p> - -<p>As soon as possible she escaped from the hospital, went out upon the -moor that stretched in suave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> contours of dazzling white. A pale -blue sky sank into its mists. A cold wind hurried over it, whirling -up little columns of dusty, frozen snow. She walked far into its -solitudes, she hardly knew whether to escape from her thoughts or to be -alone with them.</p> - -<p>At last she turned back. She had climbed out of a little hollow, -was descending a featureless slope when suddenly she perceived the -figure of a man, dark against the snow. He walked towards her quickly. -Simultaneous with her recognition of him was the flush of blood to -her face, a peculiar nervous thrill. It was Captain Lavering. She -half hesitated. Then she strode forward, an insidiously victorious -temptation masquerading as strong will. Why should she not pass him? It -was absurd. He might think——. She hoped that she was not blushing, or -that the keen wind which fluttered her veil would be the self-evident -excuse.</p> - -<p>They met. He stopped, made a gesture of salute.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Captain Lavering." She was glad to hear her own voice, -had been afraid that she could not bring it to utterance. What -was there so troubling about this man? She avoided his eyes. "I'm -pleased to see you walking about again." The crisis was successfully -surmounted. She made as if to continue her way.</p> - -<p>"I saw you in the distance, Sister," he said bluntly.</p> - -<p>She did not find the commonplace remark for which she sought. He -blocked her pathway.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I have been waiting to speak to you for a long time, Sister," he -continued, as though he knew there was no necessity for a trite -beginning. "Ever since you saved my life. You did—we won't discuss -that." She stared at him, speechless. "But I have waited until I was -sure that I was quite well again. You know what I am going to say. For -a long time you have felt what was in my mind. You must be my wife."</p> - -<p>He was strong and real—vividly actual. She felt as she did sometimes -when her eyes opened from a dream into the solid surroundings of her -cubicle. He barred off the other world.</p> - -<p>"No—no," she breathed, dodged past him, hurried over the snow.</p> - -<p>He was by her side, keeping pace easily with her.</p> - -<p>"You can't escape me like that," he said. There was obvious brute -masculinity in his tone. Though she tried to resent it, it did not -displease her, and she was angry with herself that it did not. "Listen. -I am a plain man. There is no fancy romance about me. I don't want -illusions. But I love you." He stated the fact with absolute decision. -"I can offer you a good position and all that, but I know that does not -affect the matter. The vital thing is that from the moment we set eyes -on each other something happened——" for the first time he faltered in -his tone. "We both knew it. There it is. I hate being sentimental. But -I want you—and I know that you want me."</p> - -<p>"No—no!" she said again, almost running. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> blind desire to escape, -from herself as much as from him, dominated her. "I—I can't."</p> - -<p>"Can't? Why not? You are free. I know you were engaged. But he -is—gone. We live in a world of flesh and blood. You can't exist on a -memory. Besides," the words came like a slave-driver's whip—she almost -obeyed it—"you never loved him as you love me!"</p> - -<p>She revolted, stung to burning resentment against herself equally as -against this masterful, crude male. She stopped and faced him.</p> - -<p>"Captain Lavering, you talk like a sick man." She triumphed in the -steadiness of her words. "You have insulted me in the most uncalled-for -manner. Let that be enough."</p> - -<p>His eyes looked into hers, challenged her sincerity, were assured of -it. He went red, looked awkward.</p> - -<p>"Forgive me," he mumbled.</p> - -<p>She went on without a word, ignored the fact that he accompanied her. -They breasted an upward smooth slope of snow that stretched up to a -crisp, clear outline against the blue sky. He ventured a sidelong -glance at her, a little light of primitive cunning in his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Quite Alpine, isn't it?" he said.</p> - -<p>As intended—his tone implied a resumption of ordinary commonplace -relationship—the words took her off her guard. But he was ignorant -of their esoteric significance. In a flash, in a deep convulsion of -the soul, she saw the Alpine picture, vivid with symbolism, of her -other life. "—On the heights!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> In the full poignancy of the emotion -it unlocked—her own vow of fidelity ringing in her ears from another -world—she found herself struggling in a man's tight grasp, hot -breath upon her face, lips seeking her own. "You must! You shall!" he -muttered, straining forward to her. She stiffened, fought in a frenzy. -"Ronald! Ronald!" she cried.</p> - -<p>An icy wind swept down the slope, smote upon them like a breath from -the grave, shudderingly cold. Captain Lavering uttered a little cry, -relaxed his grip, and fell sideways upon the snow.</p> - -<p>Sister Braithwaite stared at him in horror. A great fear came upon her, -an awe in the presence of unearthly power. <i>She knew!</i> Her soul slipped -back into its dream-state, confronted the visage of her lover, stern as -destiny. The eyes judged her, forgave. Then, weeping hysterically, she -ran towards the hospital. It was not far distant.</p> - -<p>They brought in the dead man.</p> - -<p>"H'm," said the Medical Officer, looking at him. "Cerebral hæmorrhage. -This intense cold—— I was always rather afraid of a lesion. A nasty -shock for you, Sister. Well, well, another one finished—very sad, very -sad."</p> - -<p>An orderly brought Sister Braithwaite her share of the just arrived -post. There was a letter from Ronald's mother. It enclosed one from the -War Office.</p> - -<p>"Dear Madam," it ran. "It is regretted that no further details have -come to hand regarding your son. Officially he is still posted as -'missing, believed killed.'"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> - -<p>Sister Braithwaite shut herself in her cubicle, talked to the -photograph with the vivid eyes, talked to it as primitive woman talks -to the lover who has destroyed his rival. She reached out to the Other -Side.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="NA_NOS" id="NA_NOS">NA NOS!</a></p> - -<p class="center">(<i>A study of Serb infantry in battle, 1914</i>)</p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is no moon. In black darkness a long file of men stumbles up a -stony gully. Precipitous rock-walls keep them to the bed of a vanished -stream, where they trip in succession over the same loose boulders. -Their curses are hushed instantly by voices not less authoritative -because they bark in whispers. Wrapped in long sheepskin coats the -figures pass like ghosts of an antique time, whose grimness is -accentuated by the incongruity of modern rifles with fixed bayonets -that glint under the myriad stars. Presently the head of the file halts -in what seems a black pit, the edge of which cuts sharply against -the star-powdered bluish darkness of the sky. Those behind arrive -continuously, collect in the hollow, are formed into ranks by sergeants -who bully <i>sotto voce</i> like angry conspirators. The company commander -is crawling on hands and knees up the wall of the hollow, which is not -so precipitous as it appears in the darkness.</p> - -<p>The captain peers cautiously over the crest. He sees only blackness -which rises all around him from an abyss that reflects no ray in its -profundity, and blots out the stars high in the sky with irregular<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> -cones and shapeless masses of inky night. From those mountains a -wind blows chilly on his face. He fixes his gaze upon a point in the -blackness far across the gulf. The point is decided upon after careful -reference to a phosphorescent compass in his hand. He stares at this -blank darkness until it almost seems that he must be staring against -closed lids.</p> - -<p>Suddenly in the gloom at which he strains his eyes, he perceives a -pin-point of light. It flickers for an instant and then projects itself -in a ray of intense brilliance widening from the point of origin, right -across the gulf. It falls in a great oval of blinding whiteness upon -the hill-side to his right. Its hard white glare is painful in its -brutality. Everything outside the ray is swallowed in a blackness where -even the stars are lost. The white oval on the hill-side moves slowly. -It brings into vivid relief a long line of loosely piled stones behind -which lie, in many attitudes, the motionless bodies of men. Some, -which have fallen across the heap of stones, throw grotesque shadows, -intensely black. The white oval stays its slow progress, vignettes -them from the night. In the centre of the picture one of these figures -stirs, raises itself upon one elbow and rubs its eyes stupidly like a -man wakened from sleep by the sudden glare.</p> - -<p>Instantly a group of sharp reports, multiplied by rapidly reiterated -echoes, breaks from the distant blackness. The figure sinks quickly, a -dark hole visible in the ghastly whiteness of its face. The oval begins -to move again, assuring the men who lurk far back in the night that -this uncompleted shelter-trench is held only by the dead.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<p>Suddenly the light is cut off. The stars reappear in a sky that seems -strangely pallid. The mountain masses silhouette themselves more -definitely than before against their tenebrous background, the outlines -of the high summits, where some snow still lies, picked out in a grey -that has just the faintest tinge of yellow. From the black gulf below -eddies of mist boil up like steam from a mighty cauldron, veiling the -shrinking stars. A wall of fog rolls along the hill-side, blots out the -mountains and the sky.</p> - -<p>The captain turns instantly and calls down an order in a carefully -restrained voice. The company in the hollow springs up and over the -crest with the agility of born mountaineers. They follow their captain -at a quick pace into the bank of fog. Behind them is a murmur of -voices. The other companies of the battalion are coming up, deploying -rapidly into line when they reach the crest. The first company has -halted for a moment to allow time for their arrival. Seconds are -precious. At any moment the cloud may roll away, expose them to the -glare of hostile searchlights and a storm of bullets. In two long lines -the battalion moves briskly down the hill, leaving the unfinished -shelter-trench upon its right. Behind, another battalion is coming up -in support.</p> - -<p>Some way down the slope the infantry breaks out of the mist. They open -their files and slacken pace, dodging nimbly from one to another of the -boulders which glimmer in the twilight. Overhead the searchlights move -uneasily in long pale bands against the paling sky and fall upon the -fog-belt in white circles as upon a magic-lantern screen. The infantry -is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> yet discovered. It works stealthily but quickly forward, aiming -at a lower ridge that rises before them. They seem alone in the narrow -mountain-valley that begins to reveal itself in the dawn, but their -officers know that to right and left of them other battalions are -likewise creeping forward. They reach the ridge, halt and lie down upon -its slope, wisps and wreaths of mist blowing over them.</p> - -<p>The searchlights are extinguished—when, it is hard to say. The sky -is now a translucent ultramarine where no stars are left, and against -which the mountain peaks stand out in vivid orange. White fog patches -wander over the dark lower faces of the hills. The infantry creeps -cautiously up to the summit of its ridge and, like one man, peeps -over. In front of them is a mountain-wall that goes back at an angle, -leaving a great gap. Another ridge, parallel to their own, starts from -the mountain-side and drops away to the left. Its foot is lost in a -sea of fog. Between them and that ridge the ground drops into a ravine -and then mounts in a smooth <i>glacis</i> to the further crest. A little -below its summit the loose boulders, which are everywhere sown over -the ground, are disposed in a long regular grey line. The officers of -the battalion give the range to that line—750 yards. The infantrymen -snuggle down behind boulders and inequalities on the crest and adjust -their sights. There is a general loosening of sheepskin coats, a tinkle -of cartridge-clips laid in readiness, and then the line lies still, -waiting, its bayoneted rifles slid back out of view.</p> - -<p>Far back the infantry brigade commander is lying<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> upon his stomach upon -the height to the left of the wrecked shelter-trench. The fog-belt has -moved off. He has a clear view from ridge to ridge. Suddenly he takes -his field-glasses from his eyes and picks up a telephone receiver at -the end of a long line trailing over the ground. He speaks a few words -into it, replies shortly to mysterious enquiries that emanate from -the far distance, suggests a number of metres in thousands. Almost -immediately the shriek of a shell passes overhead and the report of a -cannon-shot comes echoing along the valley, arrives in a succession of -distinct shocks to the ear. Ere the echoes have died away another shell -screams past, followed by its series of reverberations. The infantry -brigadier is watching the distant ridge through his binoculars. The -line of boulders is faintly visible. The first shell bursts above it -and beyond; the second bursts short. The bracket is too wide. The -brigadier speaks again through the telephone. Another shell wakes weird -noises from the mountains as an accompaniment to its own shriek. It -bursts just in front of the line of boulders above it. Through his -glasses the brigadier sees the splash of shrapnel bullets upon the -rocks like twinkles in quick whiffs of dust. He speaks two brief words -into the telephone. A flight of shells rushes overhead like a covey -of screaming spirits and with an enormous roll of thunder arrives the -roar of a battery in rapid action. Its reverberations roll and clash -endlessly, surging from side to side of the valley in confused waves of -violent sound. The long line of boulders is suddenly whelmed in a cloud -of dust that renews itself as fast as it drifts into the air.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> From -one end of that cloud spurt tiny points of flame, and shriek crosses -shriek in the air above, whilst a series of sharp crashes mingles -with the continuous roar. Quick puffs of white smoke appear in groups -against the blue sky. In the unfinished shelter-trench spurts of dust -leap up around the bodies of the dead men who lie behind the boulders. -A battery of guns has been pushed up into the infantry line over there -on the hostile ridge and, unobservant of the menace close at hand, is -spending its fury upon the trench that it wrecked overnight.</p> - -<p>The firing line upon the intervening ridge lies quiet in its -concealment. Its officers have no wish to provoke a <i>rafale</i> from a -battery protected by tall stone sangars. Intently they watch the sheets -of dust that spurt up high over the line of boulders like the beat of a -rough sea against a breakwater. They mark where the long thin tongues -of flame shoot out ceaselessly in reply, spitting at a distant target -far behind them. They communicate these observations to the battalion -commander who is smoking a cigarette in an attitude of ease a little -way down the slope. A man close to him commences a series of quick, -jerky gesticulations with a pair of flags held stiffly at arm's length. -No flags wave in reply, but, far back, the brigadier at the telephone -speaks. A great shell rushes overhead with the roar of an express -train. A moment later the officers upon the ridge see a sudden eruption -of flame and rocks in the centre of the line of boulders. They send -another message down to the signaller. Another shell hurtles through -the air, another explosion shoots upward, this time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> nearer to the -spitting guns. Where the fumes drift off, great holes, in which there -is a scurry of tiny figures, are visible in the shelter trench. Wide -grins open on the faces of the Serbian firing-line as they draw their -rifles close to them and finger the triggers. They understand fully -the value of artillery support. Again and again the volcanic eruptions -spout into the air with an appalling detonation that breaks heavily -into the rolling echoes which fill the valley. Two of them leap up -suddenly from the very midst of the dust-cloud where the battery is at -work. There is a fountain of flying rocks dark in the centre of the -flame, and in the colossal roar of the explosion a brief, acute note of -human agony comes like a high-pitched discord mingled with a thunderous -bass. A moment later the line of guns is revealed, naked to attack. A -few men are seen darting with short movements about them. Three out of -the six eject a tongue of flame at short intervals. While they fire, -a pale gleam flickers along the Serbian ridge as the bayoneted rifles -are thrust forward, and with a long dry crackle a sheet of bullets -leaps out at the wrecked battery. The sun rises over a shoulder of the -mountains and a band of golden light spreads downwards, illuminates the -flying clouds of dust in which figures can just be seen frantically -endeavouring to turn the guns in the new direction. They are picked -off one by one with deadly aim. Above the trench the shrapnel bursts -incessantly, a new shower starting ere its predecessor has reached -earth.</p> - -<p>Along the Serbian ridge the sheepskin-clad figures lie in snug -safety and pull trigger with chuckles of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> satisfaction. There is no -excitement, only a keen savouring of primeval emotions that can now be -given rein. About them dance quick spurts of dust and bright splashes -of nickel appear upon the rocks. An irregular rifle fire is coming from -the hostile ridge. One or two shells burst overhead and then the guns -fall silent, are forgotten. The company on the right starts suddenly to -its feet, dashes over the crest and down the slope. The rifle fire from -the other ridge changes in character, welcomes them with rapid, violent -claps. A couple of machine-guns strike into the din with a continued -rapid and resonant hammering, nerve-racking in its persistency. Men in -the running line throw up their arms or pitch forward here and there, -but the company is lost to sight almost immediately on the rock-strewn -hill-side. The men dart forward from boulder to boulder. Behind them on -their left other companies are descending in quick succession towards -the ravine.</p> - -<p>At the other side of the ridge, in rear, the second line of the -battalion is coming up in support, and behind them the other battalions -of the brigade are streaming forward, unhindered as yet by artillery -fire. It is a brief respite, however. In a moment or two a distant, -unseen battery has got their range, flings shell after shell to burst -over their heads and fall in a spreading cone of bullets. The brigade -advances with quick onward dashes by battalions that spring up, race a -hundred yards and disappear for a breathing space among the boulders. -Gradually they draw into the shelter of the intervening ridge, and -battalion after battalion tops it and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> moves down to the aid of those -in front. A strong firing-line remains on the crest, keeps up a steady -stream of bullets against the long grey line still whelmed in dust by -an unceasing hail of shrapnel. The brigadier ensconces himself in a -rock shelter at the end of this firing-line, the telephone receiver -still ready to his hand.</p> - -<p>The first line of the attack has now reached the ravine. The men -seize hold of tiny shrubs that grow out at overhanging angles and -swing themselves down, scrambling over loose stones and sliding sand. -A hail of bullets is beating upon them from the trench above and -from a line of supports that has come into action higher still. The -machine-guns hammer with an appalling energy that knows not fatigue. -Where their aim is directed the sand spouts up as though struck by -an air-blast from a hose. In that ravine the first line is more than -decimated. Men stumble and fall upon their own bayonets. Corpses, -hanging limply, weigh down the shrubs. With fierce shouts the survivors -scramble onward. The second line has caught them up, is mingled with -them. The battle-madness seethes in every head; each bullet that -strikes harmlessly upon the earth is a shock of stimulation to already -hyper-excited nerves. They lose their identity, lose the instinct -of self-preservation in the flood of an older instinct which blinds -them to all but the hazards of the ground, and sweeps them forward -like demented animals frantic to assuage a thirst that consumes -their tissues. A savage cry breaks automatically from every throat; -the blood-congested brains, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> permit the action of the muscles, -unconscious of it. They reach the bottom of the ravine, not very deep, -and clamber up in the comparative security of the other side.</p> - -<p>At the foot of the smooth slope which reaches to the dust-whelmed -boulder-line, their officers halt them by orders, entreaties. The men -lie down and open a rapid, irregular fire against the trench. More men -arrive behind them, frenzied with excitement. They attempt to rush -upward, are pulled back by officers, or are struck down quickly in the -rain of bullets from the trench. The rifle-fire up there comes now in -one long rolling crackle through the cloud of dust that flurries in -answer to the continuous crashing of the shrapnel. The fire of the -attack increases in sporadic bursts.</p> - -<p>On the ridge behind, the brigadier speaks a few brief words into the -telephone. A minute later the shrapnel ceases to burst over the trench.</p> - -<p>In the disordered crowd of men that lies at the foot of the slope is -a commotion that defies the efforts of the officers. In vain do they, -knowing what is about to occur, endeavour to form a regular line of -attack up the ravine, as, from those who are still swarming down the -other side, arises one hoarse, savage cry that dominates the crash -of rifle-volleys. It is the battle-cry of a primitive people that -spontaneously clutches its primitive weapon in this awakening of its -oldest instincts, this plunge into the æon-old chaos where man thirsts -for the blood of man. "Na Nos! Na Nos!" comes the cry from a thousand -throats, reiterated endlessly by frenzied men whose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> faces are deathly -white or inflamed with blood. "Na Nos! Na Nos!" from parched mouths, -from dry, cracked lips the shout issues, overpowering the orders of -the officers. The bloodshot eyes that protrude with wild hatred at -the trench no longer see those officers. It is a savage horde merely, -in which the modern military hierarchy is lost, obliterated by an -intensely individual lust to slay as their ancestors slew. "Na Nos! Na -Nos!" "With the knife! With the knife!" What matters it that the knife -is at the end of a rifle? It is still a knife, the primordial weapon. -With an angry roar, the mass, no longer to be restrained, rushes madly -up the slope.</p> - -<p>With an answering crash the rifle-fire from the trench leaps to a -climax. The men up there are firing for their lives. In the horde upon -the slope is an appalling massacre. Heedless of it, blind to it, the -mass surges upward, happily forgetful of the cartridges in their own -rifles, mindful only of the blade that gleams at the muzzle. They see a -line of faces, white behind countless spurts of flame. With one fierce -roar they hurl themselves upon them. Men in grey-blue spring up and -dash away or turn and run at them bayonet to bayonet. The attacking -line howls in the joy of butchery—"<i>Na Nos!</i>"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="PER_LA_PIU_GRANDE_ITALIA" id="PER_LA_PIU_GRANDE_ITALIA">PER LA PIÙ GRANDE ITALIA!</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> hot sun of a morning in early summer beat down upon the narrow -street of a little North Italian town. Down the long, confined vista -of colonnaded shopfronts, hung with striped awnings of warm hue, -the air quivered above the cobbles, troubled the view of an arched, -square-turreted gateway which barred the street. The sky above was -a long strip of intense azure. Sharp to the left, near at hand, was -the roughly-paved piazza, white-fronted Venetian-shuttered houses -looking out to the large round basin, the weather-worn Triton, of -the fountain where the pigeons, flashing in the sun, circled down to -drink. A group of girls, bare-armed, black-haired, skirts turned up -over vividly-coloured petticoats, water-jars underneath the gush from -the Triton's mouth, or poised already upon the graceful head, stood -laughing and chattering about the fountain. Their gaze was unanimously -turned towards the large building, the words <i>Palazzo Municipale</i> over -its arcaded front, which occupied one side of the square. Carved on -that front, beneath the clock, defaced but not entirely obliterated, -might yet be made out the double-eagle of Austria—a memento of a -tyranny that had fled before a passionate patriotism, to entrench -itself, not far distant, high on the crag and glacier of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> eagles' -haunts, ready to swoop. But not to that did the merry, whispering girls -dart their flirtatious glances. The two grey-uniformed Bersagliere -sentries, strutting up and down before the building, superb under the -drooping cocks' feathers of their grey-covered tilted hats, were for -once immune. A handsome young officer, black-moustached, dark-eyed, who -stood, one foot upon the running-board of a car that hummed ready to -start, in conversation with another officer, was the point of interest. -Both officers, clad in the grey field-service uniform, wore upon -their arm the brassard which indicated that they were of the Staff. -The officer on the point of departure wore the badges of captain; he -who was giving him his final instructions was a <i>tenente colonello</i> -(lieutenant-colonel).</p> - -<p>"You quite understand what the General wants, don't you, Ricci?" he -said, using the familiar "<i>tu</i>," universal between Italian officers. -"As soon as possible after the position is captured, a report on its -possibilities for field artillery if we can advance to the covering -ridge. The General thinks it will command the valley road up from the -railway. You will see. Don't get buried under an avalanche!"</p> - -<p>"Very good, colonel. I quite understand." He saluted—a quick movement -of the hand horizontally below the peak of the képi, palm downwards, as -though shading the sight, in the Italian fashion—and jumped into the -car. He pushed to one side a heavy fur coat, settled himself. A moment -later the car was humming out of the square, spinning down the long -colonnaded street.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> - -<p>In front of him loomed the heavy mediæval gateway, square above its -arch. Its ordinarily forbidding gloomy aspect was lost in a generous -decoration of green boughs, a trophy of Italian flags, red, white and -green, above a white-crossed shield, a great inscription—"Per la più -grande Italia!"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> The battle-cry of Italy's greatest modern poet—the -cry that had rung beseeching, dominating, inspiring, through dithyramb -after dithyramb of the wonderful passionate orations by which he had -wakened the glowing soul of the people into flame, was blazoned here -as everywhere in Italy. Under that gateway thousands of Italy's sons -had marched to conflict with the <i>Tedeschi</i>, to the redemption of their -brethren; thousands more would march. And those to come would shout -as those who had gone had shouted: "<i>Per la più grande Italia! Evviva -Italia!</i>" The captain, glancing up at it ere the car shot under the -dark arch, carried the inscription marked upon his brain through the -obscurity. Familiar enough, he reperceived its meaning with a thrill. -What mattered the little individual life he was hurrying to risk? "<i>Per -la più grande Italia!</i>"</p> - -<p>The car sped along a road on the left side of a pleasant valley. In -front, immediately claiming the eye, a range of Alpine peaks, dark -rock-scars breaking their dazzling whiteness, exquisitely delicate and -fine-drawn as perceived through the warm atmosphere, towered in lofty -austerity into the rich unvarying blue of the sky. The road, thick with -dust, climbed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>wards them in long loops and bold curves. Close upon -its left, dark woodland descended, masking ever and anon the distant -prospect behind a shoulder of the hills. To the right, across the green -valley where the cattle stood hock-deep in flowers, village after -village—yellow-ochre and burnt-red, its slant-roofed campanile high -above the flat houses—clustered itself upon an eminence or nestled -low down to the valley stream. Viewing the scene of quiet bucolic -prosperity it was difficult to imagine that among the silent peaks in -the background lurked the terrors of war; men embattled for mutual -destruction.</p> - -<p>Along the road creaked and squealed clumsy country-carts drawn by oxen -with patient heads bowed to the yoke. They hoofed the dust with the -unhurried motion of centuries of tradition in their toil, careless -of the goad of the barefooted <i>contadina</i> crying them to hasten, to -turn aside to allow passage for impatiently hooting motor-lorries. -In strange contrast of locomotion, column after column of lumbering -mechanical transport rushed down from the mountains in a smother of -dust and petrol-fumes. Column after column proceeding upward was -overtaken and passed by the captain's car. Ever in front towered the -range of glittering peaks, in unshakable, eternal calm. Yet from -somewhere among their solitudes came a distant, faint roar that was not -the roar of nature's thunder.</p> - -<p>The road had climbed high. The valley was narrower. The orchards -sloping to its stream were white with fruit-blossoms. The air was -rarefied but still hot under the direct rays of the sun. The dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> -woods of oak gave place to darker woods of pine. The road swept round -in sharp curves on low-parapeted stone bridges above a rushing torrent. -Bare green slopes, strewn with grey boulders, opened between the woods. -The car overtook a long marching column of Alpini crunching the dust -under heavily nailed boots, pack high upon the shoulders, alpenstock -as well as rifle, sweating profusely yet pressing upwards with quick -step, the eagle's feather in their soft hats still jaunty. It was the -rear battalion of a brigade whose units were successively overtaken and -passed.</p> - -<p>The road swung to the right round the head of the valley which here -commenced in a sheer drop. As the car followed it there was a sudden -spurt of flame, a drifting tawny smoke, in the dark depths to the -right. A tremendous, shattering detonation that re-echoed endlessly -down the valley ceased at last, leaving audible the eerie moaning of -a great shell speeding upwards over the mountains, already far away. -Another such flash and detonation followed the first. Looking over the -side of the car, the captain perceived, deep down, the long barrel -of a monster gun nosing upwards, men tiny about it. A second gun was -depressed, a crane-slung shell hovering near its breech. Once more -there was a crash—a series of distracted conflicting echoes that -shattered the Alpine silence as thick glass is starred and fractured. -In the sky above the valley an eagle beat the air with heavy, violent -wings, startled into a vertical climb, and then glided swiftly with -outstretched pinions downwards to its crag.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> - -<p>The road still ascended, left the valley, climbed tortuously a rocky -spur, thinly grassed. The car took the gradient slowly, noisily, on -second speed. In front, struggling on the brow of the spur, a column -of "caterpillar" tractors drawing the component parts of a battery -of heavy howitzers distributed on trucks rattled and detonated like -machine-guns in full action. The battery personnel, harnessed to -long ropes, hauled and strained at the leading piece in an effort to -facilitate the passage of the steep crest. Before the war the boldest -artilleryman would have scouted the possibility of such heavy ordnance -at this height among the mountains. But the battery was only entering -upon the area of its severest toil.</p> - -<p>On the crest of the spur the road turned to the left, climbed at an -easier angle. The view, hitherto much masked by closely overhanging -slopes, opened out. To right and left the gaze plunged into blue -depths, fell on miniature woods and thin white strips that were roads. -Far away on either hand the mountain ranges lifted themselves, superb, -into the blue sky. But directly in front the higher peaks were not -seen. A sheer wall of dark rock barred the view as effectually as it -seemed to bar further progress.</p> - -<p>At the foot of the precipice was a stationary column of motor-lorries, -tiny by comparison with the towering mountain. The road went straight -up to it. The captain in the car bestirred himself, picked up his -heavy fur coat. Far away and high above was a prolonged rumbling roar -that seemed to re-echo from invisible walls in the upper atmosphere. -In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>voluntarily the captain raised his eyes. The blue sky was untroubled.</p> - -<p>Upon the face of the rock—which leaned back less precipitously than -had appeared—swarmed hundreds of grey-uniformed engineers. They were -laying a pathway of heavy timber, erecting huge sheers, arranging a -complicated tackle of thick rope and large pulleys. Back along the road -the first of the heavy pieces for which this hoisting apparatus was in -preparation lumbered already into sight.</p> - -<p>This tackle was not the only feature on the precipice. A little further -along, at the centre of the line of lorries, a light cantilever steel -standard was connected by drooping wire ropes to the summit. Suspended -from those ropes by a running-gear of pulleys a little car was gliding -steadily upwards, another coming down. It was the <i>Teleferica</i>—the -famous wire-rope railway, that, many times multiplied, made modern war -possible at these high altitudes.</p> - -<p>Ammunition in boxes was being unloaded from the lorries, stacked on the -roadside near the <i>Teleferica</i>. The downward-gliding car was seized -by a group of waiting men, steadied, stopped, quickly loaded with the -boxes.</p> - -<p>The staff-captain's motor drew up. He descended, walked towards the -<i>Teleferica</i>, exchanged a salute with the dapper little ammunition -officer superintending the work.</p> - -<p>"<i>Buon' giorno, signor capitano</i>," said the little lieutenant. "Are you -going up to see the attack?"</p> - -<p>The captain nodded.</p> - -<p>"Ah! Some people have all the luck! I never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> see anything. My battery -never has any casualties—and here am I left supernumerary. I might as -well be mountaineering for my pleasure!" He drew a lugubrious grimace -of comic, half-sincere self-pity.</p> - -<p>The captain struggled into his heavy fur coat, apparently superfluous -here in the fierce heat which glowed from the rock in the noonday sun.</p> - -<p>"A glass of wine before you ascend, <i>capitano</i>!" said the lieutenant. -"Come, I will take no denial!"</p> - -<p>He led the way to a little wooden shack close under the lee of the -precipice. Within, the walls were decorated with a number of scathingly -satirical drawings of the <i>Tedeschi</i>; some extremely clever studies -of the mountains in their different aspects of light—sunset and -dawn, moonlight. The host, perceiving the captain's glance, made a -deprecatory gesture.</p> - -<p>"What I am reduced to, <i>signor capitano</i>! And I might be blowing the -Austrians out of their eyries!" He was typical of that new Italy which, -while it cannot cease to be artistic, holds all of small account that -is not war against the Austrian. He filled the glasses, raised his own, -half turned to a portrait of Gabriele d'Annunzio that shared with the -King the honours of the wall. "<i>Per la più grande Italia!</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Per la più grande Italia!</i>" Both officers drank the toast. "To-morrow -morning she will be a little greater if the fates are kind," added the -captain.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later he was lying full-length in a narrow low-sided -cage, suspended from a pulley on a thick wire-rope, and being hauled -up, with much creaking and strident protest of the pulley-wheel and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> -vicious jerking of the loose rope, to the summit of the cliff.</p> - -<p>There he was again in a scene of activity. Broad-shouldered porters -in frayed and much-worn Territorial uniforms were bearing away the -ammunition boxes that had arrived at the summit, carrying them towards -the next station of the <i>Teleferica</i>. The captain followed in their -track.</p> - -<p>The wire-rope railway ran in short sections from station to station. -The gaps between the sections—stretches of comparatively level -ground—were filled by the sturdy Alpine porters or, in the case of -longer distances, by pack-mules. It was the line of communications -to the sector of the front immediately ahead—a front that for the -most part of 450 miles is thrust out amid the eternal snows of lofty -mountains, along the edges of deep chasms, upon the knife-ridges of -<i>arêtes</i>, across the Arctic desolation of glacier and <i>neve</i>. Over it -was transported food and ammunition, light guns, clothing, equipment, -all the necessaries for an army in action. By it descended the wounded -and the sick, the unwanted stores.</p> - -<p>Over section after section the staff-captain passed, ascending higher -and ever higher towards his goal. About him rose the great peaks, their -robes of snow dazzling white under the sun, splendidly superior to -the ragged army of stunted pines that sought to climb them, last lost -sentinels straggling half submerged in the snow. Up sheer rock-faces -whence birds of prey darted frightened from their nests, over deep -chasms where he looked down to a dark profundity of pines and rushing -streams, over great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> empty fields of snow far away beneath him on -which zigzagged long lines of tiny black figures insignificant in the -immensity, bearing burdens, upward and ever upward to the regions where -snow and ice reign in eternal winter, the <i>Teleferica</i> bore him. And -ever between the stations there were throngs of busy men, more and more -thickly clad at each successive height, who marched under heavy loads.</p> - -<p>Always there was a thunder rolling among the mountains. From apparently -inaccessible crags dark against the blue, from bare snow ridges, from -bleak white wastes where there seemed nothing to detain the eye, -spurted little darts of flame, drifted faint smoke. Detonations came -in sharp direct cracks, fantastically re-echoed; in a long rumbling -angry mutter from the more distant guns. From steep mountain-sides, -avalanches, loosened by the concussions, rushed downwards in a white -smoke of flying snow, their thunders rivalling the persistent artillery.</p> - -<p>The staff-captain dallied not. The bombardment which was to prepare -the way for the attack had already commenced. He hurried over the -intervening spaces between the wire-rope stations, ascended higher and -ever higher in the little dangling cages.</p> - -<p>It was afternoon when he reached the limit of the <i>Teleferica</i>—a -little snow-covered hut on a desolate ledge. Here, sheeted down from -the weather, stacks of supplies awaited further transportation. It was -the depot of the quartermaster of the battalion holding the sector. An -Alpino soldier, thickly clad, was in waiting to act as guide.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> - -<p>The staff-captain borrowed an alpenstock from the quartermaster and -set out. In front of him stretched a great smooth slope of snow that -ascended until, high above him, it cut—in sharp contrast—across the -blue of the sky. Its whiteness was blinding—the captain fitted on a -pair of darkened spectacles. Far across it, dark dots strung like beads -on an invisible thread, a company of soldiers was marching in a long -single file zigzagged over the snow, climbing to the crest. Nearer at -hand to the right, vivid spurts of yellow flame shot out from mounds of -snow aligned at a little distance from each other. The detonations of -the battery came crisply to the ear, predominant over the rumble and -roll and confused echoes of the general bombardment.</p> - -<p>As the captain followed his guide up the vast empty slope he heard a -long plaintive whining in the air, descending a scale of tones. It -had not ceased when over to his right a great fountain of snow leaped -skywards from the field—subsided leaving a smother of dirty smoke. -The whine finished in an ugly rush, a muffled detonation. Another and -another followed, in each case the visible effects of the shell's -explosion preceding the noise of its arrival. The Austrian batteries -were replying.</p> - -<p>The echoing thunder of the bombardment continued all through the -dreary fatiguing climb up the slope of snow. The higher peaks began to -throw long blue shadows across its whiteness, their argent heads to be -suffused with gold.</p> - -<p>The ridge to which they climbed was not, after all, the summit. There -was another, yet higher, whence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> splintered crags serrated the sky. -They reached it, stood among rocky pinnacles.</p> - -<p>"<i>Attenzione, signor capitano!</i>" said the guide. "It is dangerous to -linger!"</p> - -<p>Followed by the captain he swung himself round a jut of rock, dropped -into a trench excavated deeply in the snow. As they dropped a couple of -ugly "<i>phutts!</i>" just above their heads explained the warning.</p> - -<p>The Alpino grinned.</p> - -<p>"Tirolese!" he said. "We could have gone round by a safer way, <i>signor -capitano</i>, but their snipers do not often hit if one is quick."</p> - -<p>The deep trench, in cold blue shadow through the gilded surface of the -snow, descended the ridge at a gentle angle to the summit. It emerged -into another trench that ran roughly parallel to the ridge. This was -filled with soldiers who, well below the high parapet, larked with -one another, threw snowballs, wrestled and laughed. They were keeping -themselves warm during their enforced wait. Every one of them was -garbed in a thick white outer coat, with a hood. This was the main -trench; these were the men who presently were going to attack.</p> - -<p>On steps cut in the parapet stood sentries, peering towards the enemy. -The captain ceded to an impulse of curiosity, interrupted his hurried -progress towards the battalion advanced headquarters, mounted to the -side of one of these sentries, looked out.</p> - -<p>About him was a sea of mountains, their lower flanks in cold blue -light, their snow-covered peaks orange against the azure sky. -Immediately in front<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> of him were the nearly submerged stakes, the -snow-thickened upper wires, of wide entanglements. Beyond them -stretched the confused, humped and fractured white surface of a high -glacier. On the other side of it was again a snow ridge, and in front -of that ridge could be discerned a belt of wire entanglements—the -enemy's. In the midst of that entanglement, and all up the snow to -the ridge, leaped fountain after fountain of white snow, momentarily -brilliant against the sky, falling back into a persistent cloud of dark -smoke. The noise of the explosions overwhelmed the roar of the guns -behind. The preparatory bombardment was in full swing.</p> - -<p>Warfare in the high Alps, with their difficult communications, is -necessarily carried on by comparatively small bodies of men. The -vast masses of the Western and Eastern fronts could not possibly be -maintained among the crags and glaciers of the Italian frontier. -Operations by single battalions have all the importance of a divisional -attack elsewhere. In this case one battalion had been allotted the task -of storming and retaining the enemy's position.</p> - -<p>In the little low timber hut sunk beneath the snow-level which was -the battalion headquarters, the captain found the colonel commanding -the regiment in conference with the local commander and the company -leaders. The atmosphere of the cramped interior was thick with -the exhalations of the half-dozen men, warm with the heat of a -petrol-stove. Capitano Ricci saluted the colonel, was received affably. -A pair of keen eyes under level brows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> appraised him, smiled upon him. -For his benefit the colonel recapitulated.</p> - -<p>"The plan is briefly this. The artillery is cutting the wire and -shelling the trenches immediately in front of us. The Austrians of -course will assume that we are going to attack there. They will keep -strong reserves at hand in the vicinity—as strong as they can, for -we know that there is no very large force opposite. The artillery -is making it difficult to bring up the reserves from the rear. All -their communications are under fire. Now, we hope that the enemy will -concentrate on the damaged trench in front of us. The attack is being -made by four companies. One company will advance at 9 p.m., using -every precaution not to be seen, and will cross the glacier at an -angle to its right. It will fall upon the enemy's trench here"—he -indicated a spot on the left of the enemy's position as marked on a -plan spread over the table. "It should effect a surprise as the enemy -will be far from expecting an attack on a part of the line which has -not been bombarded at all. Directly that attack gets into the trench -it will turn to the left and continue to press on as hard as possible. -If it is progressing well it will send up a green rocket. If it is in -difficulties it will send up a red rocket. The second company will -advance to within about a hundred metres of the trench that has been -bombarded. There it will halt. If matters go as I expect them to, the -company on the right will send up a green rocket. Then the Austrians, -realising that they have made a mistake, will rush up their men from -the damaged sector and put up a resistance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> The green light will -be followed by a red one which will automatically indicate that the -enemy's reserves are engaged. <i>Whenever that red light goes up</i>, -whether preceded by a green one or not, the second company will rush -the trench in front of it. I hope that it will find it thinly held. -The third company will advance, with every precaution, at 9.30 p.m. -in support of the second company. The fourth company I will retain as -general reserve under my command. The men will be served with hot cocoa -at 8.30 p.m. Is that quite clear, gentlemen?"</p> - -<p>There was a general murmur of assent. The staff-captain requested -permission to advance with the second company, the one that was -attacking straight ahead. He received it.</p> - -<p>The conference was at an end. Officers went out to give final -instructions to their subalterns, came in again, beating powdered snow -from their huge fur coats. One and all looked like Polar explorers.</p> - -<p>Presently orderlies entered, put a steaming hot meal upon the -table. Crowded closely together in the confined space, the officers -ate—talking and laughing in high confidence, though in all was the -tension which precedes the moment of action. Occasionally during the -meal they heard the dull thud of an Austrian shell's arrival. They sat -over coffee and smoked.</p> - -<p>At last the colonel looked at his watch, stood up.</p> - -<p>"It is time to go to your companies, gentlemen. I rely upon all of you -as upon myself. I have promised the general that the trench shall be -taken—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> held. <i>Per la più grande Italia!</i> And good luck to all of -you!"</p> - -<p>Some time later the staff-captain found himself by the side of the -company commander in the deep trench hewn through the snow. It was -night and in the faint reflected radiance of the white walls he could -just dimly discern the figures of a long line of men, all garbed -in white like himself. Only when their heads moved did they detach -themselves from their surroundings. Overhead, above the crisp line of -the parapet, the sky was a black background for an immense multitude of -strangely brilliant stars. A wind raised little whirls of powdered snow -upon the lip of the parapet, blew down into the trench in chill gusts -that penetrated the clothing. Not a sound broke the intense silence. -It seemed almost that one could hear the crackle of the sparkling -vivid stars. The artillery bombardment had long since ceased. There -was nothing to suggest that a death-dealing enemy was hidden only -eight hundred metres away across the glacier. No sound came from the -company that had already advanced. Along the trench was a murmur of -conversation, stifled laughter. The company commander stood gazing at -the luminous dial of his watch.</p> - -<p>9.15! He turned his head, gave a command in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"<i>Avanti!</i>"</p> - -<p>It was repeated in a low murmur to right and left.</p> - -<p>In an instant the company commander, the staff-captain at his side, -had sprung up on to the parapet. A bitter wind smote upon them from -the darkness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> chilling to the bone. The commander glanced back, saw -his men like a line of ghosts faint in the dim light, already over -the parapet. Then the company commenced to thread its way through the -openings previously cut in their own wire.</p> - -<p>Stealthily, with the utmost precautions to avoid any unnecessary sound, -the company stole across the uneven, heaped and riven snow and ice of -the glacier. Under that black night of stars it stretched away white -to a near indistinctness. The black masses of the mountains occulting -the stars near the horizon were too indefinite to indicate direction. -Compass in hand, the commander counted his paces over the snow, his -only means of judging distance. For greater accuracy the staff-captain -counted also. They spoke not a word. From the obscurity came the -whispers of the men as they preserved a rough alignment.</p> - -<p>Sliding, stumbling over the inequalities of the frozen surface, they -pressed onwards. Somewhere over to their right, higher on the glacier -in front of them, the other company was advancing also. There was -neither sound nor sign of it. In that dim desolation the staff-captain -might with difficulty see his immediate companions. The remainder of -the company was swallowed up, was noiseless. It seemed that they were -stumbling on alone—on and on, an interminable distance—a few lost -figures struggling through an Arctic night.</p> - -<p>Suddenly from the blackness straight ahead a beam of intensely white -light shot out horizontal with the ground, sweeping it. At its first -birth-splutter they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> flung themselves upon the snow, lay motionless. -The searchlight—a wall of milky radiance to one side of them, -suffusing the snow with a pale reflection—then, as it shone full on -them, a lane of intolerable light from a blindingly violent source, -casting long pitch-black shadows from every hump and hummock of the -ice—swept questingly over the glacier, rested doubtfully here and -there for a moment, passed on again. The Austrians were on the alert. -Cautiously, still repeating to himself the number of paces they had -marched when they dropped, the staff-captain glimpsed to right and left -of him, looking for the company. The nearer figures he saw, immobile, -their white humped backs looking like inequalities of the snow. Those -more distant were utterly indistinguishable. The searchlight ceased -abruptly. The world was annihilated in a profound blackness where the -stars reigned alone.</p> - -<p>The two officers rose to their feet, marched onward, resumed their -count of the paces. To right and left of them rose ghostly figures, -stumbling forward. On and on they went, bruising themselves on sudden -obstacles in the black night, the dim uniform whiteness of the snow a -bewilderment to the vision. Far away in the mountains of the Austrian -position a livid flash leaped to the sky. The reverberation of a -gun's discharge rolled heavily and ominously to their ears, the long -hurrying whine of a shell approached them. There was an instant of -suspense. Were they after all discovered? The shell passed overhead to -burst far behind, inaudible. The trench in front was invisible in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> -darkness—not a flare, not a rifle-spurt marked its position.</p> - -<p>"Seven hundred!" Both officers murmured the number at the same moment.</p> - -<p>"<i>Alt!</i>" The whispered order was passed to right and left. The line of -ghostly figures sank down, was merged in the ice and snow under the -twinkling stars. "<i>Baionett' cann!</i>" There was a faint rustling, a just -audible click and clink of bayonets being fixed. Then again silence. -The company might have ceased to exist.</p> - -<p>The company commander and the staff-captain gazed earnestly to their -right front, towards the point where the other company should be -attacking. At any moment now! Their comrades had a quarter of an hour's -start, had a rather longer, more difficult stretch to traverse. But -they should have reached their objective. At this moment stealthy -white-clad figures should be crawling among the stakes of the -entanglements, snipping at the wire. The two officers stared in the -fateful direction—in suspense for the up-flung flare, the shouts and -stabs of flame. They stared at complete obscurity.</p> - -<p>The searchlight on the trench in front leaped out again to the night, -its origin startlingly close. This time as it swept over them, it -illumined the short heads of the stakes of the wire entanglement that -cast black shadows on the snow which all but submerged them. They were -very near. In the intense light the white craters of the shell-holes -produced by the afternoon's bombardment, hung with broken wire from -supports all askew, gleamed like craters of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> moon seen in uncanny -proximity. Once more the light swept the glacier, searched doubtfully -and was extinguished.</p> - -<p>A sudden shot, off to the right front—a swift succession of loud -reports—woke wild echoes from unseen cliffs. High up on the glacier, -to the left of the Austrian position, flare after flare was flung into -the sky, eerily illuminant, plucking strange rock-forms into grotesque -relief. There was a fierce shout that rolled in repeated reverberation, -a wild tumult of voices in a crisis of human lives, confused shots, -isolated and in irregular volleys, the dull thudding explosions of -bombs. The first company was attacking.</p> - -<p>The two officers lying in the snow gazed with fixed intensity towards -the distant fight whose tumult swelled louder and louder with every -moment. The wild flares continued to soar into the night, but as yet -no rocket—neither red nor green—had leaped up to tell them of its -fortunes. The searchlight in front shot out again, swept quickly -from side to side. It illumined only the apparently empty, tumbled -desolation of the glacier. But it continued to blaze out into the -night. Both officers cursed it under their breath. From the trenches -they had left, far behind, rifle-shots rang out, the rapid hammering -of a machine-gun. The reserve company was indulging in a little tricky -target-practice at the searchlight. It was successful. The beam of -light vanished.</p> - -<p>At the same moment a little spark of trailing fire went rushing -skywards from the tumult of the flank attack. It was watched with -suspended breath—green or red? The rocket burst into an effulgence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> -of uncanny green light. The cheer which came from under it was like a -ghostly utterance of the cheer repressed on the lips of the men lying -prone and motionless on the glacier. The colonel's forecast was sound.</p> - -<p>But now the uproar on the flank increased to a wild intensity. -Incessant were the sharp detonations of the rifles, the dull thuds of -the bombs, mingling with a clamour of voices, shrieks and yells. No -more flares went up from the point of conflict, but from all along the -trench they soared into the air, symptomatic of the nervousness of -the unseen defenders. Machine-guns began to rap out their streams of -bullets in blind hazard across the glacier.</p> - -<p>The staff-captain pressed himself close to the snow, overhead cracked -the rapid bullets of the Austrian machine-guns. The wind that blew -over the glacier, ruffling the loose surface snow on to his face, was -intensely cold. He felt himself a heavy leaden thing, frozen stiff. -Over to his right front the savage noises of the contest, weird and -awe-inspiring on this summit of the world that seemed so uncannily near -to the flashing stars, swelled hideously cacophonous. Livid bursts of -flame flickered and were reflected redly on snow surfaces, on black -jagged spires of rock. All along the trench the blindingly white flares -leaped upward, another soaring as its predecessor circled down in a -parabola that illumined the unearthly confusion of the glacier surface. -He seemed a mortal for ever severed from his fellow-men, set down in -a world that was primitive Arctic chaos, a paralysed spectator of a -contest of fierce mountain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> spirits fighting over spectral issues, -remote from the interests of humanity. A part of his mind harked back -to the warm summer, the green fields, the somnolent little town of -the valley he had left that morning, and it seemed that those things -belonged to another existence. Yet all the time he gazed fixedly to the -point whence the next rocket should shoot up. He awaited it as he would -await the breaking of a spell.</p> - -<p>At last! The trailing spark of fire shot upwards, burst into hanging -globes of red light, the snow rosy beneath them. On the instant the -company was erect, rushing forward. Leaping, soaring flares from the -trench revealed them—white moving figures casting black shadows on the -white glacier. Spurts of livid flame, loud quick detonations darted -from the white ridge in front. "<i>Avanti! Avanti! Italia! Italia!</i>" -shouted the commander. "<i>Italia! Italia! Savoia!</i>" came the fierce -antistrophe from the rushing men flinging aside their alpenstocks, -brandishing their bayoneted rifles.</p> - -<p>They were fighting their way through the deep loose snow, the wreck -of the wire entanglements. The staff-captain floundered in a white -shell-crater pitilessly illumined by an overhanging flare. The loose -ends of the barbed wire tore at his clothes, clutched round his legs -like tentacles that would hold him for death to strike. In front the -spurts of flame sprang from a wall of darkness above the white, high -up. Near him was the company commander, extricating himself from the -shell-hole, the last of the wire safely passed. He had a sense of -tensely struggling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> figures all around him. He, too, got clear of the -wire. He saw the company commander throw up his hands, roll sideways -over the snow, still shouting "<i>Avanti! Avanti! Italia!</i>"</p> - -<p>He passed him, took up the cry: "<i>Avanti! Avanti! Italia! La più grande -Italia!</i>" leading the company that yelled behind him like a pack of -mountain wolves. He topped the snow parapet, saw a fierce face glaring -up at him in a strange light, a rifle-barrel levelled. His revolver -seemed to go off of itself, a sharp autonomous detonation. The face -opened a black mouth, sank out of vision.</p> - -<p>He sprang into the trench, shouting like a madman. Behind him came -the Italians, tumbling down in fierce onslaught. One of them struck -him violently on the back as he slid down, knocked him face forward -into the snow. As he went he heard a sudden heavy crash, saw a flare -of lurid light. A bomb! He picked himself up, only half realising his -escape, fired at once into a dark body that wrestled with a white-clad -soldier. There was a confusion of blows, of shots, of ear-splitting -detonations—shouts, cries, shrieks. At one moment he was in close -contact with a panting man, warm breath upon his face, eyes flashing -momentarily in the reflection of a rifle-shot, looking into his—the -next the man was gone, there was space about him. The confusion -cleared—there were bodies underfoot—white-clad men about him shouting -unintelligibly. Further along the trench another flare went up.</p> - -<p>The staff-captain turned to his right along the trench.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<p>"<i>Avanti! Avanti! A destra! Italia! Italia!</i>"</p> - -<p>Behind him followed a rush of fiercely yelling soldiery.</p> - -<p>"<i>Italia! Italia!</i>"</p> - -<p>They were held up by a traverse of snow-covered rock. A shower of bombs -came over it. From a communication trench a mass of dark figures rushed -at them, shouting with guttural voices. There was bitter conflict—an -ebb and flow in the surge of men.</p> - -<p>Then another fierce shout: "<i>Italia! Italia! Savoia!</i>" It was the third -company flinging itself in the trench to support the attack.</p> - -<p>In the midst of the tumult could be distinguished the scream of Italian -shells passing overhead to burst dully on the Austrian avenues of -approach.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the angry dominant note of the babel of voices changed. -Accents of supplication rang out amid the jarring reports: "<i>Kamerad! -Kamerad!</i>"</p> - -<p>The staff-captain made his way along the deep dark gully in the snow -where motionless figures stood with arms stretched up above their -heads, rifles at their feet. Ghostly white figures who had retained -their weapons joked at them in rough <i>patois</i>. He met the commander -of the company which had attacked upon the flank. The trench was -completely captured.</p> - -<p>There followed a period of fierce toil in the trench. Under the -twinkling stars in the black sky, men delved at the snow of the -parados, cutting fire-steps, building it up into a breastwork. Behind -them little parties of prisoners, stretcher-bearers and slightly -wounded men, stumbled across the broken surface of the glacier. The -toiling men gave no thought to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> them as they laboured to prepare for -the storm which would surely burst.</p> - -<p>It came. An ugly hissing rush heralded the first Austrian shell. -It exploded with re-echoing violence and a great fount of up-flung -snow right on the newly-strengthened breastwork. Another and another -followed in a methodical bombardment directed by calmly judicial -gunners ensconced in little huts far back in the mountains. Amid the -nerve-harrying rush of ever new arrivals, constant explosions, the men -toiled frenziedly. Reserves of ammunition were brought up. Machine-guns -were put in position. Telephone wires were laid. The fourth company -took up a post on the glacier whence it could rush into the trench in a -counter-attack if needed.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the bombardment ceased. The Alpini crouched behind the -parapet, fingering their rifles with gloved hands, peered out into the -indistinctness of the snow.</p> - -<p>There was a rush of dimly-seen figures from the obscurity, a blaze of -fire from the trench. Near the staff-captain the colonel sat speaking -into the mouth-piece of a telephone. Rush after rush of hurrying shells -passed overhead. Out there on the slope where an Austrian battalion was -surging to the attack, shrapnel after shrapnel lit fierce sudden flares -in the dark sky. There was again a tumult of voices, a re-echoing chaos -of men at strife. It persisted, swelled, died down.</p> - -<p>The silence of an Alpine night rested once more over the battleground, -was broken only by the roar of a distant avalanche.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the twilight of approaching morn an officer made his tour of the -outposts on what had been Austria.</p> - -<p>"<i>Chi va là?</i>" rang the sharp challenge of a white-garbed sentry almost -indistinguishable against the snow.</p> - -<p>"<i>Italia!</i>" came the proud response.</p> - -<p>The first rays of the sun gilded the surrounding summits in the glory -of a new dawn.</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> "For Greater Italy!"—the theme of d'Annunzio's discourses -in the doubtful days preceding Italy's intervention.</p></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="PANZERKRAFTWAGEN" id="PANZERKRAFTWAGEN">PANZERKRAFTWAGEN!</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Hauptmann von Waldhofer</span>, Batteriechef of the —th Battery -Fussartillerie, stood, helmeted and with buttoned coat, hastily sipping -a cup of steaming hot coffee in his dug-out. The electric light, fed -from the power-station at Cambrai, miles back, illumined a cosy little -apartment. Portraits of the Kaiser and Hindenburg looked stiffly from -the matchboard walls in the incongruous company of a medley of coloured -pages from <i>Simplicissimus</i>, <i>Jugend</i>, and, quaintly enough, the <i>Vie -Parisienne</i>. One side was fully occupied by an enormous large-scale -map of the Somme area, divided into numbered squares, heavily scored -with blue pencil here and there, across which ran a great curve of red -lines massed in intricate pattern—the enemy trenches, and radiating -pin-supported coloured threads from a point slightly E.S.E. of Flers -fan wise far across the opposing line. The battery-made bed, wiremesh -stretched over a wooden frame, sloping slightly from the head downwards -towards the foot, on which lay blankets in the disarray of recent use, -bulked largely in the apartment. But there was still room for a little -table, on which books and writing material were neatly arranged, and -two comfortable plush-covered armchairs, besides the camp washstand -in which the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> water yet steamed. A carpet, mudstained but thick and -soft to the tread, covered the floor. In the corner remote from the -bed was a stove whose long pipe bent at right angles below the roof -and followed it until it ascended the steep stairway at the entrance. -The deliberate comfort of the dug-out indicated long residence and -the expectation of an indefinite stay. Only the pick and shovel in -readiness by the door gave a hint of possible cataclysm.</p> - -<p>An orderly stood stiffly at attention while his master finished his -coffee. The captain put down the cup.</p> - -<p>"What time is it?" he asked sharply.</p> - -<p>"A quarter to seven,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Herr Hauptmann."</p> - -<p>"What sort of morning?"</p> - -<p>"Clear, Herr Hauptmann, but very cold."</p> - -<p>"Any aeroplanes?"</p> - -<p>"None over the battery, Herr Hauptmann."</p> - -<p>The captain gave a final glance at himself in the French wall-mirror -which hung over the table, touched lightly with his finger-tips the -black and white ribbon of the Iron Cross upon his breast, as though -flickering away a speck of dust, and turned to go. As he went the -hanging calendar caught his eye. He tore off the top leaf. The date -revealed was September 15th, 1916.</p> - -<p>He climbed, with the heavy step of an oldish man, the narrow steep -thirty-tread stairway, and emerged into the blue sky of a clear dawn. -Around him was bare rolling downlike country. About half a mile<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> -directly in front of him the village of Flers huddled itself among thin -trees, its skeletal roofs silhouetted against the blue. Between him -and it, but close at hand in a slight depression of the ground, the -four 105<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> mm. guns of his battery stood spaced and silent under veils -of a gauzelike material tufted with green and brown that blended well -with the terrain. Inconspicuous even to a side view, thus covered they -were invisible from above. Near them were stacks of ammunition also -shrouded. Save for a sentry the guns were deserted. The personnel of -the battery was lined up in two queues, where the smoke of a couple of -field kitchens betokened breakfast.</p> - -<p>The battery dug-outs were excavated in the breast of a slight swelling -of the downs, their exits looking N.W., on the flank of the gun -positions. The battery commander stood for a moment surveying his -little community banded for the service of the four veiled idols lying -unhuman and aloof from the domestic needs of men. Then, following -his morning habit, he turned and climbed the little rise of ground. -On his accustomed view-point he stopped and gazed westward. Before -him, clear in the cold early light, the undulating downs gathered -themselves into a long, fairly regular ridge, some two miles distant -at the summit. A maze of communication and support trenches, just -visible, criss-crossed their white lines in the chalk of the hither -slope. On the skyline of the ridge directly west a large clump of bare, -shell-sharpened tree-stumps broke its emptiness. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> the Bois de -Foureaux. Further south a similar group of stumps spiked up into the -sky—the Bois de Delville.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> That clean-swept landscape mounting to -the desolate skyline was the great dominant fact in his existence. Ever -concrete in his mind, it claimed his first waking vision even as the -weather horizon claims the first heed of the sailor, or Vesuvius the -morning glance of the Neapolitan. This morning it lay cloudless—save -for the towering smoke of an occasional shell-burst in the vicinity -of the Bois de Foureaux—and strangely quiet. The whole wide stretch -would have seemed untenanted by man had it not been for the occasional -primrose twinkle of a field-gun's flash. The reports of such guns came -in isolated slams at varying intervals. To his right an English shell -hurried with a long-drawn whine to burst heavily in Flers. Far back -several enemy aeroplanes, tiny specks in the cold blue sky yellowing -to the dawn, were dodging like midges among a smother of little brown -shell puffs. From overhead came the drone of a German machine. But, by -contrast with the frequent uproar which welled out of this region to -translate itself into long thick smoke along the ridge, the scene was -curiously clear and silent.</p> - -<p>Satisfied with his scrutiny, the Captain turned and descended again -to the battery position. He passed along the line of dug-outs in -the flank of the rise until he reached one whose entrance bore the -notice "Fernsprecher und Befehls Unterstand"<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> neatly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> painted on a -board. The Oberfeldwebel standing at the doorway sprang to a precise, -heel-clicking salute. The officer acknowledged it curtly and dived into -the dug-out.</p> - -<p>Here yellow electric light replaced the cool grey dawn and tobacco -smoke floated in long wreaths about the bulb. A young lieutenant, -seated at the telephone instrument on the table, took the pipe out of -his mouth and rose smartly as his superior entered.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Eberstein," said the captain. "Anything fresh?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, Herr Hauptmann," replied the lieutenant respectfully.</p> - -<p>"Nothing of this rumoured attack?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing."</p> - -<p>The captain seated himself heavily at the table and the lieutenant was -at liberty to resume his chair.</p> - -<p>"And that frightful bombardment all last night, Eberstein, what do you -make of it?" he asked as he lit himself a cigarette.</p> - -<p>The mouth under the fair moustache of the young lieutenant twisted into -a contemptuous smile.</p> - -<p>"Bah! the Englanders want to make us nervous or to persuade themselves -that their wonderful 'great push' is not played out."</p> - -<p>The captain blew out a long puff of smoke and nodded his head in -dubious thought.</p> - -<p>"And you think it is?"</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer, a man of somewhat deliberate mental processes, was never -unwilling to discuss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> general topics with his subordinate. Eberstein's -cheering, if crude, optimism was a welcome stimulus to him.</p> - -<p>"Of course it is," said the lieutenant. "Since the first rush they have -been practically fought to a standstill. Here it is two and a half -months since the offensive began and where are they? Now in one week on -the Donajetz we——"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know, Eberstein," his superior interrupted him. "You did -wonders. But it is the Somme and not the Donajetz that interests us -now." He removed his helmet and passed his hand wearily over a high -semi-bald brow. "I wish I could be as certain as you. These Englanders -do not know when they are beaten——" He stopped, then broke out -again with the over-emphasis of a man wearied with long brooding over -a problem. "The colonel was so positive last night! And he had just -come from the General Staff. At dawn, he said, we might expect it. I -can't make it out. All night that frightful bombardment, obviously -preparation. Then this quiet! I feel something is coming." He shook his -head. "We are much too near in this position."</p> - -<p>"If they come, so much the better!" cried Eberstein. "We will -annihilate them. But I do not for a moment believe——"</p> - -<p>He was stopped by a heavy distant roar that commenced with the -suddenness of a thunderclap and continued in one never-ending roll.</p> - -<p>"There we are!" exclaimed von Waldhofer. He looked at his watch. It -marked 7 o'clock precisely.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span><a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - -<p>A moment later the telephone bell rang in an excavated offshoot of the -main dug-out. The orderly on duty there answered the call. "Message -from the observation officer!" he announced in a loud voice. Eberstein -picked up the receiver lying on the table in front of him.</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"Intense artillery fire all calibres upon entire sector. Whole front -being heavily bombarded. Infantry attack expected momentarily."</p> - -<p>Eberstein repeated the message, and ere he had finished the battery -commander had sprung to the door of the dug-out, shouting his orders. -He heard them megaphoned on by the sergeant-major above. Out there in -the first rays of the sun the four squat idols had shaken aside their -veils, lay surrounded by tensely waiting acolytes. The moment for their -dread speech was at hand.</p> - -<p>In the electric-lit dug-out the two officers sat silently listening -to the distant storm. It rolled in one unnerving continuous thunder. -Not their duty was it to reply. They were detailed for barrage upon a -particular sector. But near at hand the heavy detonations of guns told -off for counter-battery work followed one another ever more quickly. -Near at hand, too, came the long whine and crash of the English -counter-battery shells hurled in reply.</p> - -<p>Again the bell rang and again the telephone orderly called out. "Speak -to battalion commander,<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> please!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> - -<p>This time von Waldhofer picked up the receiver himself.</p> - -<p>"<i>Ja, ja!</i> We are all ready!" he said. "Yes. It is coming this time. -No. No further message. Oh, yes, we are in communication. No? Have -you heard anything definite? No. I wonder if there's any truth in it? -Good-bye." He put down the receiver and turned to Eberstein, stopping -for a moment to listen to the roll of the hostile bombardment.</p> - -<p>"That old story again!<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> You remember we heard it before the first of -July? Some wonderful invention the Englanders are supposed to have for -annihilating us all. I wonder if there's anything in it?"</p> - -<p>The lieutenant laughed mockingly.</p> - -<p>"The Englanders invent anything? Not they! Besides, I don't believe -in the possibility of any new invention that can revolutionise war. -Just think! Here have all the nations of the world been fighting for -two years, and what new inventions have we seen? None! There have been -perfections and the rediscovery of old methods—that's all. What is the -Zeppelin but a perfected Montgolfier? It is neither the first nor the -only dirigible even! Poison gas and liquid fire—what are they but the -stinkpots and Greek fire of the middle ages, rediscovered and brought -up to date? There is nothing, can be nothing really new!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer shook his head.</p> - -<p>"You are very positive in all your ideas, Eberstein. I don't know. The -English do get hold of new things sometimes—it is true that generally -they leave it to us to make use of them. But these rumours are so -persistent! They are vague, I admit. Yet where there is so much smoke -there is generally a fire. We are very close here. Just listen to that -bombardment!"</p> - -<p>For a moment or two both officers sat silent again, listening to the -roll of awful menace. Then von Waldhofer shouted an order to the -telephonist.</p> - -<p>"Get through to the observation officer!"</p> - -<p>Almost immediately the orderly called out:</p> - -<p>"Speaking, Herr Hauptmann!"</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer picked up the receiver.</p> - -<p>"What is happening?"</p> - -<p>"The bombardment is continuing," came the reply. "Much damage is being -done to the trenches. Some sectors are almost obliterated. My wire has -already been cut twice."</p> - -<p>"No infantry attack?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet. This is evidently preparatory."</p> - -<p>"Keep me informed," said von Waldhofer, and put down the receiver. He -turned to Eberstein. "Well, we shall soon see."</p> - -<p>"There will be nothing," replied the lieutenant with his contemptuous -laugh. "I should like to bet on it. If there were a patent way of -breaking down trench lines, it would not be the Englanders who invented -it. It would be we Germans!—--"</p> - -<p>"Hush!" said von Waldhofer. "Listen!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> - -<p>The roll of the hostile artillery ceased as though controlled by a -single volition, remained silent for a few seconds and then, with one -thunder-surge of sound, recommenced.</p> - -<p>"The barrage has lifted!" cried von Waldhofer. He raised his voice to -be heard by the Oberfeldwebel who waited megaphone in hand, his legs -visible halfway down the dug-out steps. "All ready, sergeant-major?"</p> - -<p>"All ready, Herr Hauptmann," replied the tranquil voice of the N.C.O.</p> - -<p>The telephone bell rang again in the dug-out.</p> - -<p>"Message from observation officer!" proclaimed the orderly.</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer snatched up the instrument.</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Barrage!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Fire!" shouted von Waldhofer to the Oberfeldwebel.</p> - -<p>Eberstein looked at his watch. The hour was 7.20.</p> - -<p>As though the commanding officer had pressed an electric firing-button, -the four heavy crashes of his guns followed, merging into each other, -renewed in a never-ending chain of detonations as fast as the crews -could load, relay and fire. A constant stream of 4.2" shells was -rushing from the battery to fall in a narrow area at the predetermined -range. But loud as were the violent concussions of the guns close at -hand, they were but one element in the chaos of frenzied sound that had -leaped from the whole countryside at the moment of their first report.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> -Every German battery was firing at its maximum intensity. On the -background of the dull continuance of the English guns danced the rapid -reports of the quick-firers at full pressure of urgency, and surged -ponderously the gruff double-roar of the howitzers, and the sharper, -louder crash of the heavies, blended without a moment's interval into -one unceasing peal. The rifle-fire from the trenches was inaudible, -swallowed up.</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer sat with one telephone receiver pressed to his ear. -Eberstein picked up the other. They heard the observation officer's -voice, faintly.</p> - -<p>"What?" shouted von Waldhofer into the instrument.</p> - -<p>"Something is coming—something strange—I cannot see well, -there is so much smoke—something—slow and crawling—a -machine—firing—more—<i>schreckliche</i>——!" The voice ceased abruptly.</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer and his lieutenant looked at one another.</p> - -<p>"The wire has gone!" cried Eberstein. He had to shout to be heard in -the din.</p> - -<p>"Let us hope it is only that," replied his chief. Both strove -deliberately to ignore the fear in the forefront of their minds. Von -Waldhofer shouted loudly into the telephone: "Kurt! Kurt! Are you -there?"</p> - -<p>There was no answer.</p> - -<p>Outside the dug-out the battery was still firing furiously, would -continue to do so until it received fresh orders. The general uproar -had abated not at all, had if anything intensified. Into the welter of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> -sound came a familiar, heart-stopping, hissing rush followed by a loud -crash. Another and another and another swooped down on the heels of -the first. An English 60 pr. battery was searching for their position. -But the two officers, fascinated by the mysterious distant menace that -was crawling into their world, did not hear and gave no thought to -the shells. Once more von Waldhofer shouted into the telephone "Kurt! -Kurt!" Still there came no answer. The eyes of the two men met.</p> - -<p>"What can it be?" demanded Eberstein impatiently. "Is he dreaming?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps the wire has been cut close here," said his chief, resolute -like a good soldier to allow no disturbing speculations in this battle -crisis. He shouted an order to the Oberfeldwebel.</p> - -<p>The telephone bell rang sharply.</p> - -<p>"Order from the battalion commander," announced the telephonist.</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer was already listening.</p> - -<p>"Yes?"</p> - -<p>"<i>Feindliche Panzerkraftwagen<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> übersteigen die Schützengräben Punkt -C 32 d 4.1. Sofort Feuer dagegen mit aller Kraft eröffnen!</i>" ("Enemy -armoured motor-cars are crossing the trenches at point C 32 d 4.1. Open -heaviest possible fire upon them immediately!")</p> - -<p>The battery commander sprang to a little table, outspread with a -large-scale map upon which lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> protractor and dividers. A second or -two of hasty calculation and he shouted his orders to the Oberfeldwebel.</p> - -<p>"Cease fire! All guns 20 degrees more right! With percussion! Left half -at 3150 metres! Right half at 3100 metres! Forty rounds battery fire!"</p> - -<p>He heard them repeated in stentorian tones through the Oberfeldwebel's -megaphone. The rapid detonations of the guns ceased. There was a pause, -a few seconds only. Then the voice of the sergeant-major announced.</p> - -<p>"All ready!"</p> - -<p>"Fire!"</p> - -<p>Again the fury of the guns burst forth.</p> - -<p>"<i>Panzerkraftwagen!</i>" said Eberstein. "But surely armoured cars cannot -cross wire entanglements and trenches! There is a mistake somewhere."</p> - -<p>"There is no mistake that something has gone wrong and that we are -without observation," returned von Waldhofer irritably, indisposed to -abstract argument just then. The orderly had once more failed to elicit -any response from the observation officer. "Take a couple of men and -a new instrument, follow the wire along as far as possible, get into -a good position for observing, and open up communication with the -battery. No, wait a moment!" The telephone bell was ringing again.</p> - -<p>"Message from battalion commander," said the orderly.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" von Waldhofer spoke into the instrument. "I am firing on them -now. No. I am without observation. Five minutes ago. Really? What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> -are they? Not ordinary cars? Something quite new? Herr Gott, this is -serious! Yes. Yes. I quite understand. I am not to retreat while I -have ammunition. Good. You may rely on us. We shall stand to the last -man. <i>Für Gott und Kaiser! Lebewohl!</i>" He put down the receiver and -stood for a moment in deep thought, his hand pressed to his high bald -brow. Then he shook himself alert. He turned to Eberstein. "Hurry!" he -said irritably. "Everything is at stake!" The lieutenant sprang up the -stairway and vanished.</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer put on his helmet and gave a last order to the -telephonist before he followed his subaltern.</p> - -<p>"Ring up Captain Pforzheim. Tell him to send up every available round -as quickly as possible. Urgently required!"</p> - -<p>Then he also ran up the narrow stairway into the bright morning light.</p> - -<p>"Two telephonists, all necessary instruments, with me into flank -observing station at once!" he shouted to the sergeant-major.</p> - -<p>He went swiftly towards the battery. The last gun had just finished -its allotted ten rounds. They lay now in their wide-spaced row, smoke -upcurling from their muzzles. Their attendant crews stood, coatless, -mopping the sweat on their brows. Far and near the thunderous uproar -of the battle swelled; it seemed louder than ever now that he had -come from the dug-out into the open air. The English batteries had -lengthened their range. As he walked he glanced at Flers. It was -whelmed in fumes. Explosion upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> explosion leaped up among the huddled -houses in the trees, fragments, timbers, earth-clods momentarily poised -upon a dome of dark smoke. White shrapnel puffs sprang incessantly into -existence above the roofs. He heard the hissing rush of an approaching -shell without faltering in his pace, so preoccupied was he with the -urgency of the moment. He saw the quick upspout of smoke; the heavy -metallic crash came to his ears. He noted only that it was well behind -the battery. His eyes were fixed on the officer with the guns.</p> - -<p>"Oberleutnant Schwarz!" he called, stopping suddenly some twenty yards -from the battery.</p> - -<p>The long-coated, helmeted lieutenant stiffened as though galvanised, -walked smartly up to him, saluted, and waited rigidly for his orders. -Oberleutnant Schwarz, a young freckled-face fellow, set the pattern -for discipline in that battery. The commander noted the punctilious -attitude without his wonted inward smile. The occasion had found the -man.</p> - -<p>"Schwarz, communication with the forward officer is interrupted. -Eberstein has gone to re-establish it if possible. I am going into -the flank observing station. Orders will come from there. Put the -Einjähriger into the telephone dug-out. The situation is critical. -Something has gone wrong. A new kind of armoured car has broken through -the trench-line. They must be stopped at all costs. The orders from the -battalion commander are formal. The battery will not retire while it -has ammunition. I have ordered up every available round. The battery -will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> maintain its position, <i>whatever happens</i>, while it has a man and -a shell. Is that clear?"</p> - -<p>Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted in precise parade-ground fashion.</p> - -<p>"Quite, Herr Hauptmann," he replied unemotionally.</p> - -<p>"If I become a casualty the command devolves upon you," continued von -Waldhofer. "Remember these armoured cars are your target, wherever -they can be fired on. Use direct laying if you get the opportunity." A -flight of shells burst in a succession of heavy crashes on the swelling -ground to his right. He glanced at them. "Keep a couple of groundmen -going over the wire to the flank observing station. Here, two of you!" -he shouted suddenly to some mounted N.C.O.'s who at that moment trotted -up to the battery with a string of ammunition limbers. Upon his sign -one of them dismounted. The captain swung himself into the vacated -saddle. Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted once more. Accompanied by the -other N.C.O. the battery commander set off at a hard gallop, up the -rising ground into the welter of dark smoke from the just-burst shells.</p> - -<p>The flank observing station was a splinter-proof dug-out on a little -knoll some 500 yards away to the left flank of the battery. It had -been constructed in prevision of the unexpected. Von Waldhofer spurred -towards it now at the top pace of his horse. Despite many shell-bursts, -on the ground and in the air, he reached it safely. Leaping to earth, -he threw the reins to his follower and sent both horses back. Then he -dived into the dug-out.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> - -<p>Both telephonists were there awaiting him. The large-scale map was -pinned out on a board, instruments upon it. The range-finder stood by -the observation-slit. One of the orderlies was testing the telephone -communication to the battery. Von Waldhofer pulled his glasses out of -their case, pressed himself against the observation-slit and looked out.</p> - -<p>Directly in front of him the bare ground with many minor undulations -rose steadily to the shattered silhouette of the Bois de Foureaux on -the skyline. But no longer was the view clear as when he last had gazed -on it. Over all lay a haze which the early morning sun was powerless to -penetrate. In the foreground and wide to right and left in the middle -distance spurted and twinkled the primrose flashes of the guns, more -rapidly multiplied than any eye could count. On the ridge the smoke -lay thick, bellying in dark masses over the tree-stumps of the wood, -poised on the horizon in tall, heavy-headed columns like elm trees in -full foliage. In the air long bands of white shrapnel smoke reached out -and clung to each other in a lazy drift, while among them the large -dead-black bursts of heavy high-explosive shrapnel appeared suddenly, -darted a head from the round nucleus and then unfolded themselves -slowly and snakily earthward. Between him and the ridge the whole wide -amphitheatre was being thickly sown with English shells. Near and far -the smoke-columns shot incessantly into the air. Over the road from -Flers to the Bois de Delville, which crossed his view at right angles, -the white shrapnel puffs clustered in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> ever-renewed groups. Over all, -English aeroplanes in scores flitted to and fro, daringly low yet -apparently unchallenged. No longer did this arena appear untenanted. In -every part there was movement and confusion of Lilliputian figures. Far -away three tiny ammunition wagons raced towards a battery. Closer at -hand, grey-clad infantry dashed in sections along the shell-swept road -from Flers. They tugged low bomb-carts on long hand-ropes. He knew, -subconsciously, that they were going to reinforce the great trench-line -that stretched east and west from Martinpuich to Lesbœufs. Further -afield other bands of grey midgets, scarcely visible, were rushing -forward. Everywhere from the rim of battle-pressure grey figures were -filtering in ragged streams down towards the lower ground. A long way -off, on that rim, his glasses revealed a nodal point of confusion. He -focussed on it. There were tiny grey figures grouped, in quick movement -to and fro. Little smoke-dots were all round them. Then the confusion -cleared. He saw darker figures, running forward, the twinkle of sun on -a distant bayonet. For a moment he held them under view anxiously. Then -with an impatient movement he swept his glasses round. Not there was -the target that he sought.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he arrested his sweep. To his left, much closer to him than -he had been looking, a field battery topped a little rise, retiring at -full gallop among a welter of shell-smoke. It passed down below his -vision. His glasses remained steadily focussed on the rise over which -it had come, fascinated by the abnormality, expectant of the cause.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> - -<p>It appeared. Slightly to the right of the course of the retreating -battery, something emerged over the crest—something slow, ponderous, -shapeless—drawing itself up. The silhouette of a gun projecting from -its flank barred the sky. Swiftly he replaced his glasses by the -range-finder. As he twisted the thumbscrews that brought the inverted -vision into juxtaposition with the normal, he saw a group of grey -soldiers surround the monster, hurl little puffs of smoke at it. He saw -the gun slue, spit, saw soldiers who waved white rags tripping over -those already fallen. The double visions met, he read the range. The -thing drew itself up, turned slightly, creeping on its belly, snout -in the air, like an uncouth saurian from the prehistoric slime. It -was moving more quickly than he at first realised. In another instant -he had taken the angle to the aiming post, plotted another, and was -shouting orders to the telephonist.</p> - -<p>"All guns 28·3 degrees left! Right half-section No. 1 gun 980 metres, -No. 2 gun 960 metres! With percussion! one round! Fire!"</p> - -<p>Through the range-finder he saw the burst of the two shells at the same -moment that the detonations of the guns came to his ears. One fell -full in the midst of the group of grey soldiery, whelmed them in black -smoke. The other burst beyond. The thing paused not nor hurried. At an -even pace it drew its low bulk along, dipped now for the descent.</p> - -<p>"Right half-section 970 metres! Left half-section 960 metres! With -percussion! Twenty rounds battery fire! Fire!"</p> - -<p>Spout upon spout of black smoke heralded the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> rapid explosions of -the guns. The monster was blotted out. Feeling like one engaged in a -struggle with a creature born not in our time and space, of another -world, von Waldhofer prayed for a direct hit. The smoke cleared. He -looked for what should be its ripped and stationary bulk. It was not -there. Only the grey bodies of the dead lay under the drifting fumes. -The thing had passed onward, dipped into the hollow, out of sight.</p> - -<p>He was suddenly aware that the enemy shell-fire, always heavy, had -increased in intensity. The smoke-spouts shot up more numerously, -grouped themselves more densely. Gradually they extended to new areas, -abandoned those already covered. He realised in a flash that the -monster was moving behind its special barrage, aeroplane directed from -above. He shouted fresh orders, altering the range. Blindly he hurled -his shells into the hollow behind the screen of smoke.</p> - -<p>If only he had direct observation! He shouted to the telephonist.</p> - -<p>"Ask if communication has been made with Leutnant Eberstein?"</p> - -<p>The reply came: "Nothing has been heard of Leutnant Eberstein. Six men -have just been killed in the battery."</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer's exclamation expressed annoyance rather than grief -at the loss of his subordinate. He turned again to look through the -observation slit. There was a blinding crash——</p> - -<p>When he came to, he found himself gazing at the blue sky. The deep -breath he drew half-choked him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> with the fumes of burnt explosive. -Shaking in every limb he struggled to his feet. Before him lay his two -orderlies, dead. The dug-out was wrecked and roofless. The telephone -instrument was strewn in fragments on the floor. He himself was -unwounded.</p> - -<p>He listened, with a sudden anxiety, for the detonations of his guns. -The general uproar had diminished not at all, but the familiar crashes -were wanting in the din. How long had he lain there? A wild fear seized -him. Scrambling out of the ruined dug-out he ran breathlessly towards -the battery.</p> - -<p>The enemy fire was as intense as ever. The air was filled with the -whine and scream of arriving shells and the heavy crashes of their -explosion. From somewhere behind came the rattle of rifles and -machine-guns and the dull thud of bombs. Grey-clad men in swarms -were running across the open ground athwart his path. He heard them -shouting, saw officers gesticulating, realised as in a dream that they -were running from the battle. But their fear touched him not. He was -enveloped in concern for his beloved battery.</p> - -<p>He arrived on the lip of the depression where it lay. In a surge of joy -he saw the four guns lying in the familiar places, saw them strangely -naked, their protective veils ripped and hurled aside, saw barely -sufficient crews standing at their posts, saw the position gashed with -shell-holes and littered with prone grey bodies, shattered limbers and -dead horses. Even as he looked a salvo of shrapnel burst with deafening -cracks above them, and white fleecy clouds floated over the battery. -On the near flank, in the position<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> of command, stood Oberleutnant -Schwarz, rigid and precise as on the parade-ground.</p> - -<p>Von Waldhofer ran down the slope towards him.</p> - -<p>"Schwarz! Schwarz!" he called.</p> - -<p>The Oberleutnant advanced to meet him, and, looking calmly at his chief -as though his smoke-blackened face and torn clothing were in no way out -of the normal, saluted with perfect gravity.</p> - -<p>"What has been happening?"</p> - -<p>"We have been under heavy fire, Herr Hauptmann. All the wires are -cut in many places. The telephone dug-out has been blown in. We are -absolutely without communications. The battery has fired whenever there -was a chance of a target. Your orders have been obeyed. The battery has -stood its ground. We have only three rounds per gun left. I am waiting -now for an opportunity to fire."</p> - -<p>Listening to the cool report of his subordinate, von Waldhofer -recovered his soldierly poise.</p> - -<p>"Excellent. You have done well, Schwarz. And the casualties?"</p> - -<p>"I regret are heavy." He waved a gloved hand towards the bare dozen -standing by the guns. "All that are left."</p> - -<p>There was the loud, hissing, nerve-paralysing rush of a shell at -arrival. Simultaneously with the shattering crash that leaped from -the fountain of black smoke, Oberleutnant Schwarz put his hand to his -breast, performed a sharp half-turn and fell—dead.</p> - -<p>The reverberation yet rang when a second rush and crash followed -the first. A third and fourth shook the air almost too quickly for -distinction. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> battery commander's brain worked with the timeless -speed of a great crisis or a dream. In an incomputable fraction of a -second he saw the heavy barrage which preceded the slowly crawling -monster, was conscious of an aeroplane overhead, saw his opportunity -and his plan. He ran towards the guns, shouting: "Lie down! Lie down!" -The crews obeyed. Standing among the strewn corpses the guns seemed -manned only by the dead. He flung himself prone on the flank of the -battery.</p> - -<p>Shell after shell swooped and burst on the stretch of ground in -front of him. Fed by the constantly spouting black geysers, an -ever-thickening dark mist drifted across, blotted out the distance. -Through it he saw the freshly thrown edges, brown and white, of -unfamiliar shell-craters pocking the undulating ground. The worn, -smooth greensward that he had known was being churned into loose clay -and chalk, mingled haphazard in their fall from the fierce upward -gush. The reiterated crash upon crash of near explosions all but -obliterated the far-flung din of the general battle, but through them -he caught waves of an appalling uproar welling out of Flers. Slowly, -riving, crashing, upspouting its black fountains of smoke and earth, -the barrage marched onward, passing across the battery front. Now? -Through the mist he saw the directing aeroplane sweep down in front of -him, absurdly low, rattling its machine-gun. A group of grey figures -sprang up beneath it, both arms high above the head, tumbling among -the shell-holes as they ran. A temptation flitted across his mind. One -round gun-fire and that aeroplane<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> was blown to fragments. His lips -tightened. He did not move. The battery seemed abandoned by all its -dead.</p> - -<p>Age-long seconds passed as he watched, peering through the thinning -mist. Save for one little group of hasty, self-obliterating men, his -immediate front was a deserted waste of churned earth, sloping gently -upwards away from him. Once, over the low near skyline seen from his -prone position, he thought he saw the spurt of a bomb. But he could -not be sure. And a bomb did not necessarily betoken the presence of -the—Thing. Yes! What was that?</p> - -<p>Something was lifting itself, slowly and with jerks, beyond that near -skyline. Ponderously, with the efforts of a limbless living thing, it -drew its bulk up, seemed to stop—nosing the air with its blind snout. -Now? Not yet! He had only one chance—certainty. The monster moved on -again, downward now, lurching and wallowing among the shell-holes like -a ship in a heavy sea. He saw the gun swinging in the side-turret as -it rolled, the bright-splashed colouring of its flank. It was passing -diagonally across his front. It must climb to escape. <i>Now!</i></p> - -<p>He sprang to his feet, shouting with all his lungs.</p> - -<p>"To the guns!" The crews leaped up, resuscitated. "Point blank! At the -devil! With percussion! All guns! Fire!"</p> - -<p>But quick as he and his men had been, the monster was quicker. At -his first movement, with a mighty jerk it had slued itself nose-on -to the battery. Ere a hand could clutch a firing lever, a storm of -small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> violently exploding shells burst right in among the guns, a -hail of whip-cracking machine-gun bullets smote on men and metal. Von -Waldhofer looked towards the monster lurching heavily towards him, -keyed to a frenzy of suspense. To his horror he heard—not four—but -one detonation. The Thing dipped. He saw the shell burst—<i>over</i>! He -glanced towards the guns in speechless agony. The last gunner was in -the act of falling lifeless across the trail.</p> - -<p>High-nosed, seeming to smell its enemies rather than see them, like -an uncouth blind monster of the rudimentary past, the Thing crept on, -its speed as surprising as a reptile's. Viciously, with unallayed -suspicions, it spat its missiles at the dead battery. Von Waldhofer -stood alone, erect, praying that one might strike him.</p> - -<p>Suddenly its fire ceased. He heard the loud clatter of its machinery as -it approached, saw the rolling bands on which it moved. He felt that it -was coming to mark its triumph over his beloved guns, felt its disdain -for him their helpless master. An insane hatred for it gushed up in -him, swept away his conscious self. He whipped out his pistol, ran like -a madman towards it. He fired again and again, desperately seeking the -eye, the brain, like a hunter at bay with a crocodile. But eyeless, -featureless, the great snout slanted upwards above him, impenetrable -steel plates, on which his bullets flattened.</p> - -<p>Blindly the Thing rolled on, ponderous, invulnerable. It bulked huge -above him. He heard a shriek. It was his own.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the bright sunshine of a September morning the strange new monsters -crawled over that bare countryside racked with noise and tortured with -the leaping, eddying smoke of countless explosions. Behind them crowds -of khaki-clad men, hatted with inverted bowls like Samurai, followed -cheering and laughing like boys behind a circus-car. They waved -newspaper posters, obtained Heaven knows whence, that proclaimed in fat -bold type: "Great British Victory!"</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> 6.45 German Summer Time, 5.45 English Summer Time, 4.45 -Greenwich Time. The Summer Time was used in all the Armies.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The well-known 4·2" gun.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Known to the British Army as High Wood and Devil's Wood -respectively.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Telephone and Command Dug-out.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> 6 a.m. English summer time.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> German Heavy Artillery is organised in "Bataillons" of -four batteries.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> The Germans had apparently heard rumours of the coming of -the "Tanks." It was asserted in the Army on the 16th September, that a -motor-cyclist carrying a definite warning had been killed by one of our -shells in the early morning of the 15th, on his way from H.Q. to the -front line.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Panzerkraftwagen, lit. "armoured power wagons," was and -is the official German designation of the "Tanks." The word is also -applied to armoured cars.</p></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="NACH_VERDUN" id="NACH_VERDUN">NACH VERDUN!</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the long luxuriously furnished saloon car of the special train an -officer clad in the field-service uniform of a South-Eastern Power -sat in conversation with a colonel of the German General Staff. The -deference shown to him made it immediately obvious that he was a -distinguished personage representing a neutral whose friendliness was -important. His dark, clever eyes rested thoughtfully upon the groups -of officers with whom the car was overcrowded. All round was a buzz of -talk, of suppressed excitement. The air was thick with cigar smoke.</p> - -<p>"<i>Ja, Excellenz</i>," said the German colonel, podgy little fingers -drumming the table between them. "The secret is out. You have rightly -guessed our objective." His eyes were those of a rather clumsy and not -too scrupulous diplomat. His smile was deliberate flattery. "Allow -me to congratulate you upon your good fortune. You will see the -machinery of our <i>Kriegswirtschaftlichkeit</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> he throated the word -impressively, "at the moment when it works at its highest power to -shape for Germany her final victory."</p> - -<p>The distinguished neutral smiled also, perfectly courteous. He spoke -with a faint Austrian accent.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I can understand your desire for the final," he underlined the word -ever so lightly, "victory, Herr Oberst."</p> - -<p>The German stared at him, suspicious of the nimbler brain.</p> - -<p>"Who would not desire it, Excellenz? This awful slaughter," he waved a -deprecating hand. "It is terrible that our adversaries do not recognise -they are already beaten."</p> - -<p>The neutral nodded.</p> - -<p>"Bar-le-Duc and the Upper Marne, I suppose—Paris!"</p> - -<p>The German colonel's eyes went dead.</p> - -<p>"Excellenz, I believe the supreme command reserves to itself the honour -of enlightening you on its plans."</p> - -<p>The conversation languished. The train rolled on, heavily comfortable. -The staff officers talked earnestly among themselves, the word -"Majestät" oft repeated. Orderlies, garbed as soldiers but obviously -royal <i>Kammerdiener</i>, stole noiselessly in and out of the car, went -frequently into the car beyond. On those occasions the distinguished -neutral had a glimpse of a world-familiar figure, upturned moustaches -on a tired face, a uniform of grey hung with many decorations.</p> - -<p>The train rolled into a station, stopped. The blare of a military -band started on the precise instant of its arrival. The platform was -thronged with officers, bright with the red of the General Staff.</p> - -<p>The distinguished neutral took little interest in the ceremony outside. -He busied himself with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> collecting the small articles of his kit. -Through the large windows he glimpsed the salutes of the rigidly-erect -officers. Above the noise of the band he heard the repeated "<i>Hoch! -Hoch! Hoch!</i>" of soldiers who cheered as they drilled, exactly -synchronous.</p> - -<p>He stepped on to the platform, followed by the Colonel appointed to be -his conductor. "Majestät" had already departed. Officers were thronging -to the exit, laughing and talking, much excited, revealing, despite -the grey and red of the staff uniform, the essential childishness of -the crowd-mind. "<i>Nach Verdun!</i>" said one of them, very close to the -distinguished neutral, nudging another in the ribs. "<i>Nach Verdun!</i>" -He repeated the just given watchword of victory as a schoolboy repeats -the latest smart expression. The officers around him laughed. The crowd -buzzed with high spirits.</p> - -<p>Outside the station the roadway was choked with waiting motor-cars, -lined with soldiers readjusting their helmets after tumultuous -"<i>Hochs!</i>" Some cars—those containing the highest personages—had -already departed. One after the other those remaining were filled, -swerved out and sped away. The distinguished neutral and his companion -found a vehicle reserved for them. The colonel led him to it with an -air that suggested: "See how the smallest details are thought out!" -They, too, sped away through the walls of infantry.</p> - -<p>Behind the soldiers were a few listless French inhabitants; from the -windows of that French town hung German flags, but no French faces -looked out. The shops were open but their owners stood not at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> the -doors. The neutral noted these things. The complete apathy of the -population was in contrast to stories his companion had related in -the train. In many of the side-streets long convoys of ammunition -and ration wagons were halted to allow them passage. On one of those -foremost wagons was scrawled in big chalk letters: "Nach Verdun!"</p> - -<p>"<i>Nach Verdun!</i>" that was the Leitmotiv underlying all the intense -military activity that filled the town and, as they shot out beyond -the houses, the countryside also. Every road was choked with columns -of marching infantry, with endless trains of wagons, of limbers, of -ambulances. Even cavalry was in evidence, riding with tall lances -and saddle-hung rifles on wretched-looking horses. "<i>Nach Verdun!</i>" -The German colonel, though he warily gave no information, could talk -of nothing else. Under that grey February sky pulsed and boomed the -distant detonations of artillery. The neutral listened to it with a -professional ear, was puzzled. It was persistent enough, but it was -certainly not the prolonged roar of a preparatory bombardment.</p> - -<p>The car swung into the drive of a park. A tunnel of winter-stripped -trees, brown above, green streaking the bark, and then a large château -drew itself across the vista. Thither the other cars had preceded -them. They stood now ranked in a mass. There was a throng of officers -round the great doors, the buzz awakened by the recent passage of the -All-Highest. The neutral was shown to his room, the German colonel -volubly regretting that exigencies of space forced him to share it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> - -<p>Some hours later the neutral was ushered into a vast, lofty apartment -whose tapestried walls were almost completely rehung with the huge -maps pinned upon them. On easels stood other maps, strange diagrams in -curves and slants of red, green and black ink. On a large table was -a horizontal relief model of hills and woods, a river with tributary -streams, a splash of red in the valley, thin lines of red converging -upon it, passing through, opening out again. On all these maps, on the -splash of red in the relief model, the name "Verdun" was repeated again -and again.</p> - -<p>All these things the neutral officer noticed with the corner of his -eye—the large writing-tables behind which sat officers of high rank, -other officers grouped in a corner. His direct gaze was held by the -figure he saluted. Spare, of medium height, in the grey field-service -uniform of a general, gold cord looping across his right breast, a star -upon the left above the Iron Cross, gilt epaulettes, gilt leaves upon -the red gorgets of his collar, the would-be conqueror of the world -stood stiffly erect, graciously acknowledged his salute. The brushed-up -moustache was still dark, though the short hair on the head was grey, -almost white. The face was deeply furrowed with endless anxieties, -but the blue eyes—pouched though were their under lids—gleamed with -excitement. He spoke in a jerky but distinct manner that betrayed a -temperament of long ill-controlled impulses.</p> - -<p>"<i>Guten Abend, Herr General!</i> Welcome to Germany's greatest hour! You -shall see our sun mount triumphantly to its zenith, breaking through -the dark<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> clouds of foes who cluster over against us in vain!" The tone -was that of a rhetoric practised until it has become a habit. The right -hand gesticulated with quick motions, the left arm was conspicuously -still. "General!" he turned to one of the officers sitting at the -tables, "be so good as to explain everything to our friend here."</p> - -<p>It was to be clearly understood that the All-Highest was flatteringly -gracious.</p> - -<p>The neutral officer bowed, expressed his thanks courteously, ventured a -request: "That I may be allowed to admire your War-Machine in all its -work, Majestät—go where I will."</p> - -<p>"By all means, General. We have nothing to hide. You will find much -to interest you, much to relate to our well-wishers in your country. -General! see that a pass is given to our friend that will give him the -fullest freedom." The All-Highest answered the neutral's salute in a -manner that terminated the conversation.</p> - -<p>Seated at the huge, carved writing-table with the officer to whom he -had been addressed, the neutral found himself looking at a pair of keen -grey eyes that peered through pince-nez under bushy white eyebrows. The -German spread out maps, indicated positions. He drew notice to the fact -that all roads squeezed through a bottle-neck over the river at Verdun, -spread out in a fan on the east bank to a long line of positions that -climbed from the river over the Heights of the Meuse and fell into the -plain of the Woevre across which they bent southward.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> - -<p>"<i>Die Sache ist äusserst einfach!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> he said with the air of a -man explaining a chess-problem. "The French have three divisions of -Territorials in front of us to hold the entire sector. That force is -not strong enough to defend it and certainly too weak to have kept the -trench-systems in good repair. In fact we know that they have been -allowed to fall into ruin.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> We have fifteen divisions in front -line, fifteen divisions in reserve. We do not intend to fling those -divisions away. No. Step by step our artillery will blast a passage -for them—see, here are our artillery positions," he showed concentric -lines one within the other on the map, round the doomed sector. "It -is the greatest artillery concentration the world has ever seen. Even -our concentration on the Donajetz last year is surpassed. We shall -obliterate the positions in front of us—other batteries will drench -the only avenues of supplies with shells, they must all go through the -town—our infantry will merely march into the devastated position, wait -for the clearance of the next step. I may tell you that the French -have only one small branch railway line which is safe from our fire. -We have built fourteen new lines, besides those already existing. In -the great problem of supply we have an overwhelming superiority. We -believe we have the advantage of surprise. Certainly the French have no -concentration within easy reach. In four days we shall be in Verdun. -The Western Front will have been broken."</p> - -<p>"In four days?" The neutral officer looked at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> the map as a -chess-player looks at the board. "And—if I might ask the -question—supposing you do not take Verdun in four days? There is said -to be an enormous Allied force somewhere in France."</p> - -<p>"We have yet another day," said the German a little wearily, as though -resenting the effort to explain the unnecessary. "We have five clear -days before any reinforcements can be brought up against us—all the -chances have been calculated, you see. If we are not in Verdun by -the evening of the fifth day—well, the battle will continue. But, I -repeat, we shall be in Verdun within four days. The thing is certain!"</p> - -<p>"Of course it is, General," said another voice above their heads. Both -officers looked up, rose to their feet. "In four days we shall be in -Verdun. In a fortnight—Paris!"</p> - -<p>The speaker was a youngish man, with a long nose in a long face, -somewhat bald upon the brow, a clipped moustache above a long thin -mouth. There was something in his manner which suggested not too -reputable finance doubled with Monte Carlo and the <i>coulisses</i>. -He repeated, smacking his hand familiarly upon the back of the -distinguished neutral: "In a fortnight—Paris!" He named the famous -city with a smack of the lips.</p> - -<p>"Undoubtedly, Highness," said the German general, his professional -manner replaced by the obsequiousness of the courtier. "The army led by -Your Highness cannot fail to conquer."</p> - -<p>"Verdun—Paris! This time it will not fail, General." He walked across -the room, smacking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> a riding-switch on his tall, patent-leather hussar -boots, and chanting: "<i>Nach Verdun! Nach Verdun—Paris!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The morning of the 21st February, 1916, opened damp and bleak. Over -the heavy clay fields of the Woevre plain the mist hung persistently, -enclosing all vision in a few hundred yards. Through the obscurity the -poplars lining the roads loomed up like ghosts, dripping moisture from -each bare twig. In the copses and the larger stretch of woodland known -as the Forêt de Spincourt the conglobulated mist fell like rain. From -either of the high knolls known as the Twins of Ornes, just south-west -of the Forêt de Spincourt, the wooded slopes of the Heights of the -Meuse—Merbebois and the Bois de Wavrille—rose dark and indefinite, -discernible only when a little puff of the raw east wind, coming up the -valley of the Orne, broke a rift in the fog.</p> - -<p>The neutral and the German Oberst who was his inseparable companion -stood on the more southerly of the twin heights. About them was a group -of artillery officers. In their immediate front was the deep dug-out, -sod-roofed, where telephonists sat and waited. It was an artillery -observation post. The light was yet dim though the wet fog was white. -It had been quite dark when the two spectators had made their way over -roads deep in mud to this position of vantage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> - -<p>The journey had been long, for their car had had to squeeze, lurching -and slithering, past endless columns of infantry plodding over the -atrocious roads. In the darkness those thousands of men had been -scarcely more visible than phantoms who sang continuously as they -marched, chorusing to the tune set by picked singers at the head of -each company. Those who were merely the chorus broke off frequently -to shout witticisms at the labouring motor-car. In high spirits, they -wagered that they would be the first, after all, to arrive in Verdun.</p> - -<p>On the hill-top of the Twin of Ornes, where the officers clustered, was -tense expectation. The fog did not lift. Only at rare intervals was -there a faint glimpse of the wooded heights towards which all gazed -with thrilling foreknowledge. As yet all was a quiet broken only by -an occasional isolated detonation that rolled heavily down the Orne -valley. It echoed in a dull repercussion from the mist-filled woods -upon the great scarp that was the far-flung rampart of the doomed -city. An officer looked at his watch. The example was infectious. The -seconds, the minutes passed slowly. It was like waiting for the curtain -to go up. The watches marked 8.13 (German time)—8.14—8.15!</p> - -<p>There was one simultaneous vast roar that leaped from an arc stretching -from far in the north-west and passing round behind them to the -south. It did not cease. Minute after minute it continued, unabated, -prolonged. In the first sudden shock it appeared one colossal bellow -of sound, evenly maintained. But as the ear became accustomed to it, -instinctively<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> analysed it, it was possible to distinguish spasms of -even fiercer sound than the general welter: the ponderous concussion of -especially heavy ordnance; the frenzied hammering of the quickfiring -field-guns. The sense of hearing was overwrought, but the view changed -not. The mist still hung over the landscape, was a curtain before the -straining eye. Only down below them to the right a howitzer battery, -adventurously pushed forward, rent the fog with stabs of orange-red -flame.</p> - -<p>It seemed, in the overpowering blast of the German guns, that the -French artillery was making no general reply. From time to time a shell -came whining over towards them, finished in an ugly rush and a crash -somewhere upon the knoll. They scarcely noticed these occasional djinns -of death, so ineffective were they by contrast to the whirlwind of -destruction that swept the other way. The habituated ear could now pick -out the rumbling tramcar-like progress of the heavy shells overhead, -the fierce rushing drone of the missiles from lighter guns, mingling -interwoven with the uninterrupted sheet of sound.</p> - -<p>What was happening over there among the dank, wooded hills? Nothing -could be seen, but the experienced imagination sketched, conscious that -it fell below the reality, fearful havoc distant in the fog. Trees -suddenly blasted, toppling; parapets leaping into the air—horrors -among the spout of earth that had been a sheltered dug-out; trenches -whose walls fell in; men who cowered, fear-paralysed, in a shambles; -overhead a ceaseless cracking that rained down death; shock upon shock; -chaos—such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> flitted through the minds of those who strained their eyes -at the fog. An artillery observation officer turned to the neutral.</p> - -<p>"Five hours of this, Excellenz," he said with a smile, "and then, the -first step to Verdun!"</p> - -<p>The Oberst expatiated on the wonderful German system for supplying all -these batteries indefinitely at this intensity of fire. "Who can resist -us?" was the implied corollary to his dissertation. The neutral was -duly impressed, his dark clever eyes serious.</p> - -<p>The bombardment continued, became monotonous. The fog thinned somewhat -but permitted no clear vision. The batteries were firing by the map, -according to a prearranged programme. The Oberst suggested to his -distinguished guest that further stay was useless.</p> - -<p>"I would like to see your guns at work, Herr Oberst," said the -neutral, and the colonel saw himself forced to put aside his hopes of -returning to Corps Headquarters for <i>Mittagessen</i>. He speculated on the -Divisional Messes in their vicinity as he replied:</p> - -<p>"By all means, Excellenz."</p> - -<p>They scrambled down the rough path of the knoll, through a thin growth -of birch, passed into the denser mist below.</p> - -<p>They found themselves suddenly among long ranks of resting infantry -squatting and lying in close proximity to their piled arms. The -feld-grau uniforms merged, were lost in the fog, but there was an -indefinable suggestion of the presence of many thousands. The Oberst -and his guest might walk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> where they would, the shadowy grey forms -still loomed up out of the mist. All were cheerful and confident. The -officers in little groups smiling as they conversed, bent over a map. -The men grinning. They were waiting for the guns to level the path for -their "promenade."</p> - -<p>At last the ranks of infantry ceased. They came upon a field battery -that was firing furiously. The guns were in the open, their upturned -caissons—lid upright to form a shield, exposing the pigeon-holed bases -of the cartridges—close against the left wheel. Grouped behind each -were the busy gunners, in rapid movement of arms and torso, crouching, -labouring with swift concentrated intensity as they passed the long, -gleaming projectile from hand to hand, thrust it into the breech, -closed and fired. Behind them was a heap of brass cartridge-cases, the -flat compartmented baskets that had held three rounds. The watching -officers, helmeted, in long closely-buttoned coats, stood behind their -sections. The battery hurled out its stream of death in absolute -immunity. No enemy shell came to seek it. The fog veiled its target.</p> - -<p>Beyond that battery was another, in the open like the first, almost -wheel to wheel with it. And beyond that, another and yet others, an -endless chain of them, all scorning concealment, all firing as fast as -sweating, straining men could load and pull the lever. From behind came -the prolonged, heavy, linked detonations of yet other batteries of more -weighty metal. Overhead the rumble and rush of hurrying shells was as -the sound of heavy traffic.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> - -<p>The neutral and his guide turned eastwards towards the zone of the -great howitzers. Once more they were entangled in waiting masses -of grey-clad infantry. The mist had thinned, permitted quite long -vistas. Everywhere there was infantry, battalion upon battalion, -regiment on regiment, brigade after brigade. The time had passed—by -the neutral, at least, almost unnoticed, so much was there for his -brain to register—it was now almost noon. The infantry was standing -to its ranks, forming into column of route, marching forward with -songs and shouts, their spiked helmets decorated with sprigs of fir. -"<i>Vorwärts!</i>" came the sharp, barking commands of the officers. "<i>Nach -Verdun!</i>" shouted the excited men, drunk with the prospect of superbly -easy victory.</p> - -<p>And ever the indefatigable batteries hammered and crashed, spewing -forth death in volumes that the men they served might live. From behind -every hedge, every hillock; in long lines across the open—so many that -they could afford to neglect the enemy's reply; their tongues of flame -shot out, flickered indefinitely repeated into the distance. Their -infinitely reiterated detonations smote splittingly upon the ear, were -gathered into one overpowering roar.</p> - -<p>The dark mass of the Forêt de Spincourt was riven by red flame that -lit and was gone momentarily in every part of its recesses. As the two -officers approached it, they saw a faint film of smoke hanging over -the tree-tops, saw the quick flashes gleaming through the undergrowth -of the verge. They entered its obscurity. The air choked one with -the fumes of burnt explosive, beat against the face in gusts with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> -the disturbance of the multiplied discharges. The wood was a nest of -howitzer batteries. On platforms of concrete and timber the monsters -squatted, bowed their head to receive yet another shell, raised it -again with slow, determined movement, the great round jaws gaping -upward to the sky, belched with a sudden eructation of vivid flame, -a tremendous shock of which the stunning noise was only part. The -spectator behind the gun, looking upward, saw a black object speeding -high into the air, rapidly diminishing, the while a rain of twigs -pattered down upon his face. As the barrel was lowered again, the -breech opened, slow curling tongues of flame licked round the muzzle. -Behind each weapon were great stacks of shells. Hurrying men, two at a -time, a tray supported on two short poles between them, carried more -food to the iron monster, fed its fuming breech for yet another roar.</p> - -<p>Further within the wood were still greater monsters, so huge that -their aliment was trundled to them on light rails, swung into their -maw by overhanging cranes. The earth shook, the trees rocked, with the -vehemence of their discharge.</p> - -<p>"Frau Bertha has a most persuasive voice, <i>nicht wahr</i>?" said the -Oberst to his guest. The neutral agreed as courteously as was possible -in this chaos of bludgeoning noise. His dark eyes rested a little -contemptuously on the dapper, somewhat podgy colonel whose soul, -even in this crisis of nations, was still essentially the soul of a -commercial traveller. The order to Krupp's was not yet given.</p> - -<p>It was one o'clock—noon to the anxious French<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> general far over -there in the terrible distance. As suddenly as it had commenced, the -vast bombardment ceased. There was an uncanny silence. All knew its -significance. The German infantry was advancing to the assault. With -what resistance would it be met? Every ear was at strain—machine-guns? -There was no sound. Suddenly the bombardment opened again, as violent -as before. The German guns were putting a screen of death behind the -doomed positions, barring off all help. Far away huge shells were -crashing down from a curve that was four miles high at its zenith, -making an inferno of a once quiet cathedral town, wrecking the bridges -across a flooded river, blocking every avenue of supply to the -defenders agonising on the plateau.</p> - -<p>That night in the Army Headquarters was a night of jubilation. Courtier -soldiers—who none the less laboured into the small hours at the -intricate calculations and orders that would improve the victory on -the morrow—glanced at a youngish, very exalted personage and murmured -platitudes about the pardonable intoxication of success. An even -more exalted personage strode from general to general in the great -tapestried, map-hung apartment and gave instructions that were received -as the inspiration of genius and then merged, lost sight of, nullified -in the mass of orders that emanated from those fiercely toiling brains.</p> - -<p>The distinguished guest sat at the table with the keen-eyed, -white-browed general, had everything patiently explained to him.</p> - -<p>"All has gone exactly according to schedule," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> the German. "The -first line positions are ours. There has been a counter-attack in the -Bois de Caures, but we have stemmed it. Elsewhere there has been no -serious opposition. The first day has been a brilliant success. We -have pierced the line where we intended to pierce it. If the French -maintain their flank positions their disaster is certain. The battle -will be developed to-morrow. We shall drive right through to the -Ornes-Louvemont road. The French defence is dead, was annihilated by -our bombardment. To-morrow disintegration will set in and our progress -will be rapid. On the third day we shall take Fort Douaumont—the key -to Verdun."</p> - -<p>"And on the fourth day?" queried the neutral, his dark eyes gazing at -the map in front of him.</p> - -<p>"We shall be in Verdun!" said the German.</p> - -<p>"<i>Verdun! Verdun! Nach Verdun—Paris!</i>" chanted an unsteady voice -across the room, finished in a suspicious resemblance to a hiccup. -There was a moment of tense, awkward silence in the great apartment, -and then a buzz of low voices earnestly discussing technicalities.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Day followed day, surcharged with fateful issues. Men who flung -themselves down, utterly wearied, to snatch a brief sleep, woke -from it with an oppression of the breast, a tremor of the nerves. -Their fiercely excited brains begrudged an instant's unconsciousness -where every minute was a vehicle of destiny, once ahead never to be -overtaken. Strenuously, night and day, laboured the Staffs in the Army<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> -Headquarters, in the Corps, Divisions, Artillery Groups—desperately, -for after the second day they were behind their time-table. On that -second day the French defence they had fondly thought annihilated woke -to sternly resisting life. There had been terrific fighting on the -whole front from Brabant to Ornes. Once more a frightful bombardment -had opened with the dawn. Once more the German infantry had advanced -in masses. They found the trenches in front of them weakly held, had -occupied them. But <i>en route</i> a storm of shells had rained down on the -swarming columns, had strewn the ground with dead and dying. Further -advance was barred by sheets of rifle-fire, torrents of machine-gun -bullets. There were ugly rumours as to losses. The day's objective had -not been reached. Counter-attacks had flung the grey infantry out of -positions already conquered.</p> - -<p>During the black night of the 22nd-23rd, while the gun-teams of the -German batteries strained and stumbled forward over a shell-torn ground -to new positions, the French left flank had fallen back from Brabant. -The German guns hurled an avalanche of projectiles blindly upon the -new lines of defence, more or less at hazard since no longer did they -have them accurately marked upon the map. Once more the grey masses -swept forward, once more the hail of shells beat them down. The end -of that day saw the centre pushed in with wild confusion, but the -French resistance still alive, determined to perish rather than break. -Once more the objective had not been attained. Douaumont was not even -menaced. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> time-table was hopelessly out. That night the French fell -back on both flanks, withdrew from Ornes.</p> - -<p>The fourth day dawned—the appointed day for final victory—and still -the struggle continued, fiercer than ever. Slowly, slowly, the German -infantry pressed forward, leaving behind them a sea of helpless -bodies—a grey carpet as perceived from a distance. The artillery fire -swelled and mounted in paroxysms of incredible violence, the German -guns hammering in savage persistence, the French batteries lurking -for their target, overwhelming it in a deluge. On and on pressed the -grey infantry, thrust dangerously as night fell straight at the heart, -towards Fort Douaumont. A fierce conflict—body to body, rifles that -flashed in the face of the victim, bayonets perforce shortened for -the thrust, griping fingers clutching at the throat as men wrestled -and swayed—raved and roared in an indescribable tumult upon the -Ornes-Louvemont road. The defenders had made a supreme rally. The -Germans fought like men who grasp at victory, maddened that it is -withheld. The French fought like heroes, desperately outnumbered, -who know their duty is to die. When night fell the defence was still -intact, but the French had withdrawn to their last line, covering -Douaumont.</p> - -<p>"We have still one more day," said the German general to the -distinguished neutral that night in the great map-hung apartment. "We -allowed that margin of time. To-morrow will see our greatest effort, -Douaumont in our hands, Verdun untenable." The dark eyes of the neutral -read a certain nervous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>ness in the German's face, despite the confident -tone.</p> - -<p>"It has proved rather more difficult than you expected?"</p> - -<p>"The French field-guns have been terrible—terrible," replied the -German. "Without them——" He waved an expressive hand. "But to-morrow -we shall deliver the <i>coup de grâce</i>. We have not boasted idly, -Excellenz." His eyes looked searchingly through their pince-nez on the -calmly interested face of the neutral. "When Germany threatens she -performs."</p> - -<p>On the morning of the 25th the German guns roared over white fields -of snow, through veils of the softly falling flakes that fluttered -inexhaustibly from the leaden sky. Their thunder swelled louder and -ever louder as the batteries which had changed position, consequently -upon the French withdrawal during the night, got to work, searching -for their target, more or less accurately finding it despite the -difficulty of observation. Not a minute was to be lost. The anxious -German staff knew that the reinforcements of their foes must be -hurrying—hurrying. Some perhaps had already arrived. If night fell -without definite victory, the morrow would surely see fresh masses -against them, reinvigorating the defence. Victory to-day—complete -victory—Douaumont captured, the pursuit pressed into the streets of -Verdun—meant victory indeed. Mighty therefore was the effort. By noon -every German battery was firing at its maximum. Under the leaden sky, -over the white ground, in the still cold of a bitter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> frost, their -thunder swelled and crashed, roaring in a never-ending frenzy. Eighteen -German divisions were massed to break down all opposition. Already they -had attacked—again and again. Again and again, the rapid detonations -of the French guns had leaped into the din, smiting desperately, -frantically, to stay them. Over there, in the mist-hung gullies of the -plateau, on its bare open spaces between the woods, the snow had ceased -to be white—save where it fell freshly upon the huddled bodies of the -fallen.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon the weather cleared somewhat. More distant views -were possible. On the higher of the Twins of Ornes, the knolls just -south-west of the Forêt de Spincourt, stood the figure who more than -any other individual would have to dare the answer for all the agony -rolled out there before him, for all the agony that no eye could -measure, spread over continents, crying to strange stars. Spiked -helmet on his head, long grey cavalry-cloak wrapped about him, his -field-glasses held to his eyes by the right hand only, he gazed upon -the now distant conflict. At his side stood a younger figure, his face -masked also by binoculars. Behind them was a group of dignitaries, -generals of high position, the distinguished neutral and the Oberst who -never quitted him. All gazed to the wooded scarp of the Heights of the -Meuse, their glasses pointing south-south-west.</p> - -<p>The great masses of woodland rose dark from the snow of the plain a -long stretch of undulating, climbing tree-tops. Beyond them the bare -bulk of the plateau humped itself yet higher, dirty grey against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> the -sky. It rose to a culminating knoll—Douaumont! All that bare plateau -was whelmed in a drifting reek, but the highest point was like a -volcano in eruption. Great founts of smoke shot up from it incessantly, -spread in the air in heavy plumes that overhung. It was the objective -of the 3rd Corps (Brandenburgers), attacking under the eye of the -Kaiser so particularly their chief. Their orders were that Douaumont -was to be taken at all costs. On the Twin of Ornes operators from Army -Headquarters had taken over the telephone dug-out. Behind them the line -was clear to Berlin—waiting—waiting for the triumphant announcement -that should thrill the world.</p> - -<p>Somewhat impatiently the neutral scanned the lofty distances where the -great drama was being enacted. Innumerable puffs of bursting shells -indicated the conflict but gave no hint of its varying fortunes. -The professional instinct was strong within him, the report to his -Government an ideal to which it strove. To perfect that report he -must see the fight at closer quarters, must describe the effects of -the French fire as a complement to the already written minute on the -German batteries. His keen eye picked out a position of vantage on the -Heights. Then he waited for an opportunity, alert for the moment when -the eye of majesty should rest itself from the distant view, should -fall upon him. The opportunity occurred. The glance of the All-Highest -swept over him, preoccupied. The neutral stepped forward, saluted, -indicated the far-off point.</p> - -<p>"<i>Ich bitte um Erlaubnis, Majestät</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> - -<p>A frowning glance rested upon him for an instant, intolerant of aught -save the mighty contest whose issue was the fate of nations.</p> - -<p>"<i>Gestattet</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> was the curt, indifferent reply.</p> - -<p>The German Oberst, standing behind the neutral, changed colour. He had -no option but to accompany this damnable foreigner in his mad adventure -into unnecessary danger. He, too, saluted "Majestät," followed the -neutral to the spot where a number of orderlies stood at the heads of -saddled horses. They had been sent forward in case the dignitaries -should require them.</p> - -<p>In a few moments the two officers, followed by mounted attendants, were -slithering down the snowy side of the knoll, were cantering across the -valley towards Ornes.</p> - -<p>High above them towered the dark Bois de la Chaume as they threaded -the débris-covered street of the wrecked village. It was packed with -Brandenburger infantry waiting to advance. They followed the road -southward, at the foot of the hills, towards Bezonvaux. Everywhere the -infantry stood thick, waiting. The cannonade mounted to a frightful -intensity, appalling even the ears now habituated to it, bewildering -the senses, troubling the sight. French shells came whining, screaming, -rushing, to burst with loud crashes in the woodland rising on their -right hand, on the road and the fields through which it passed. Domes -of dark smoke leaped upward from the earth, preceding the stunning, -metallic detonation. White shrapnel puffs clustered thickly above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> the -trees. Bezonvaux was a ruin. They turned off from it to the right, -up a rough track that climbed into the woods. The snow on the track -had been trampled into a dirty slush. All about them lay bodies, grey -and blue; weapons pell-mell as they had fallen from a suddenly opened -grasp. Their horses shuddered, whinnied, jerked nervous ears, moved -disconcertingly sideways from red stains soaking deep into the snow.</p> - -<p>Just under the edge of the plateau the neutral stopped, dismounted, -threw his reins to an orderly. The Oberst followed his example. His -face was blotchy white, he trembled in every limb.</p> - -<p>"We shall see nothing, Excellenz—absolutely nothing," he asseverated -appealingly.</p> - -<p>"We can at least try," replied his guest. "Something is happening over -there."</p> - -<p>Above them, some distance ahead, was a tremendous uproar, a chaos of -violent thudding slams, splitting crashes, a faint troublous murmur of -human voices. Behind them, up the rough track, a column of infantry -was advancing, overtaking them. They ascended with a steady progress, -splashing through the slush; officers waving swords, shouting; rank -upon rank of tense faces that had lost their humanity in the tremulous -brute; glazed staring eyes under the spiked helmets; singing, singing -like drugged, doomed gladiators marching to the arena. They passed -upward.</p> - -<p>The neutral, to whom his conductor had nervelessly surrendered the -initiative, led the way. They left their horses behind them, struck off -at a tangent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> to the right, through the woods, climbing always. They -emerged upon the plateau, in a clearing. Across the open space, from -a whelm of smoke and noise in the distance, groups of grey men were -running swiftly towards them, shouting inarticulately. Along the edge -of the woods was a line of pickets. Their weapons rose to the shoulder. -Sternly, every fugitive but those wounded was driven again into the -fight. Those who hesitated, screaming under the menace of the rifle, -dropped shot.</p> - -<p>The neutral hurried along the verge of the wood, scanning every tall -tree carefully, expectantly. "Ah!" He had found what he sought. -Against the green bark of a lofty beech dangled a rope ladder. It was -an abandoned French artillery observation post. He scrambled up the -ladder, followed by the trembling, shivering Oberst. High up among the -topmost branches was a little platform.</p> - -<p>The neutral settled himself, adjusted his binoculars, pushed aside -the twigs. He looked out over an undulating terrain, dark with woods -that ceased raggedly in deep indentations short of a bare hog's back -that gathered itself into a hump. That bare ground was smothered in a -turmoil of smoke that fumed to the grey sky, far to right and left. -But through it, in chance rifts, his glasses revealed a dark mass -upon the highest point. A reek of white smoke drifted away from it as -from burning buildings, mingling with the darker clouds of incessant -explosions. He had a glimpse of a rounded cupola. It was Douaumont!</p> - -<p>The snow on the open space between the fort and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> the woods was grey. It -was moving with crawling life like the festering of a stagnant pool. -Over it burst occasional puffs of shrapnel.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" The cry was involuntary from both the watching men. From the -woods emerged masses of running tiny grey figures, running, running -towards the fort. The open space was covered with them. A moment of -tense expectation when the heart seemed to stop—and then, as by a -terrible magic, great fountains of dark smoke and darker objects leaped -up among those running figures, countless explosions. A canopy of -vicious little shrapnel bursts in thousands spread itself over them. -Under it men sprawled in great patches, seemed to be fighting the air -ere they tumbled and fell. A horrid screaming came faint through the -uproar. More masses rushed out, were beaten down. There was a running -to and fro of men bewildered—a headlong flight.</p> - -<p>The storm of fire did not cease. It rolled over the plateau towards the -woods, remorselessly following the fugitives. Louder and louder, nearer -and nearer, the crashes, the fountains, the puffs—the great mingled -reek of the inferno—rolled towards the two men in the observation post.</p> - -<p>The Oberst clutched the neutral's arm.</p> - -<p>"Excellenz!" he shouted stammeringly. "We must go. I insist. I have -superior authority—written authority—my discretion—I insist!" he -almost screamed. His hand groped for a scrap of paper which he waved. -"Arrest!" he cried like a maniac. "Arrest if you do not come!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> - -<p>The storm of French shells was a very near menace. The neutral -acquiesced with a shrug of his shoulders. Nimbly they descended the -ladder.</p> - -<p>On the ground they found themselves among a swarm of slightly wounded, -terror-stricken men. One of them, a tall, bearded Brandenburger, his -clothes torn to rags, was shrieking and laughing in a manner horrible -to hear. His comrades drew away from him as he clutched at them. He was -insane.</p> - -<p>"Only I am left!" he cried. "Only I! They are all dead—dead—out -there. They were meant to be dead. They were dead men before we -attacked—all dead men running on—I could see it in their faces—only -I was alive! And now they are still crawling—crawling—dead men!" -His tone emphasised the horror of his words, struck a chill. A sentry -lowered his rifle, irresolutely.</p> - -<p>The maniac turned, waved a hand to the westward. The sun, on the point -of setting, showed itself in a rift of the threatening snow clouds, -sank, a great ball of glowing fire, over the rim of the plateau. Its -last rays were lurid on the face of the madman, as he stood, arm -outstretched, his eyes flaming, his tangled beard falling upon his -rags, like some antique prophet of the wilderness.</p> - -<p>"Woe! woe!" he shrieked. "<i>Nach Verdun! Nach -Verdun—Verdunkelung!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> He finished in a scream of maniac -laughter, glorying in the crazy assonance of the words. "<i>Nach -Verdun—Verdunkelung!</i>"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> - -<p>The neutral and the Oberst hurried through the woods to their horses.</p> - -<p>A rapid ride with the German always in front, and once more they -ascended the Twin of Ornes. As they arrived at the summit they found -themselves among wildly cheering men. "<i>Douaumont! Douaumont is -taken!</i>" Far away to the south-south-west, rocket after rocket shot up -into the darkening sky. Already the great news had gone—electrical—to -Berlin.</p> - -<p>The crowd of dignitaries descended the steep path in the gloom to where -the motor-cars were ranked in waiting. Along the road passed streams of -wounded who could walk, phantoms half-distinguished in the dim light. -Joyous were the voices of the War-Lords. One, a familiar tone, chanted: -"<i>Nach Verdun! Nach Verdun—Paris!</i>"<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></p> - -<p>Out of the darkness came a screamed reply, a burst of insane laughter.</p> - -<p>"<i>Nach Verdun—Verdunkelung! Nach Verdun—Verdunkelung!</i>"</p> - -<p>It was the voice of the crazed Brandenburger. There was a scuffle, the -sound of a man hurried away, resisting.</p> - -<p>All through that dark journey as the car bumped and lurched over the -atrocious roads, the words beat in a refrain through the mind of the -neutral. "<i>Nach Verdun—Verdunkelung!</i>" He wondered. Eclipse? Was it -the sun of Germany that set on the French position? The Oberst was -loquaciously cheerful.</p> - -<p>That night, in the great map-hung apartment, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> War-Lords received -the news that their further advance was barred.</p> - -<p>Next morning a furious counter-attack surrounded a handful of defenders -in the fort for which they had paid so much. The French reinforcements -had arrived.</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> War economy.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> "The thing is absolutely simple!"</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> Vide Mr. John Buchan's <i>History of the War</i>, Vol. XIII.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> "Nach" means "to, towards," and also "after."—"To -Verdun! <i>After</i> Verdun—Paris!"</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> "I beg permission, Your Majesty."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> "Granted."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> "To Verdun! <i>After</i> Verdun—Eclipse."</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> "To Verdun! After Verdun—Paris!"</p></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="THE_CHATELAINE_OF_LYSBOISEE" id="THE_CHATELAINE_OF_LYSBOISEE">THE CHÂTELAINE OF LYSBOISÉE</a></p> - -<p class="center">(AN IDYLL BETWEEN THE TRENCHES, 1914)</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>(<span class="smcap">Note.</span>—This story is founded upon an actual occurrence -narrated by Paul Grabein, "Im Auto durch Feindesland," Berlin, 1916.)</p></blockquote> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> sun set while a regiment of Zouaves was marching across the -plateau. The after-glow yet illumined the sky when its leading files -turned obliquely off to the right along a rough track that presently -dropped abruptly into a deep ravine, sculped by one of the streamlet -tributaries of the Oise. Bare for a little way below the lip, save -for some scattered juniper bushes stiffly perpendicular from the -close-cropped slope, the sides of the ravine were dark with a dense -growth of tree and thorn. The road plunged into it.</p> - -<p>Down and down went the road in a gloomy tunnel of arching boughs that -scarce left an interstice for the twilight sky. It reached the floor of -the little valley, followed it to the right in a more gentle descent. -On its left a brook fell swiftly through a plantation of silver birch -in a channel that brimmed to the long, rank, water-flattened grass and -anon plashed over boulders in a miniature cascade. Save for the steady -tramp of the marching troops and the occasional squawk of a frightened -jay, there was no sound in the valley.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mounted upon a magnificent black horse, the colonel rode at the head of -the column. Seen in profile, his face was remarkable—virile, powerful, -and intellectual. When it turned to full face it fascinated. Not the -steel-grey eyes looked for under those level brows, but a pair of full -brown orbs, romantic as those of an Arab, met the gaze. He raised his -hand as the column approached a pair of high ornamental iron gates, set -in a frame of lofty arched stone and surmounted by a carved escutcheon, -on the left side of the road. "Halt!"</p> - -<p>Behind him there was a clatter of accoutrements as the long column -broke its ranks, settled itself in seated groups, with piled arms, by -the roadside. In front, the advance-guard, receiving the order from -the connecting files, halted also. The colonel walked his horse to the -gates. The padlocked chain that had held them closed hung broken from -one of the wrought-iron scrolls. The gates had evidently been forced. -He pressed his horse's flank against one of them, slipped through the -opening, and set off at a trot down a long avenue of ancient poplars. -His capitaine-adjutant, cantering up from the leading company, followed -the wave of his hand.</p> - -<p>Beyond the clearing of lawn and Cupid-crowned fountain into which he -emerged, lay a long white stone mansion, picturesque but not remarkable -in its seventeenth-century architecture. Every window was shuttered. -Throwing the reins to his companion, he dismounted and, with the stiff -gait from long hours in the saddle, ascended the broad curving steps to -the main entrance.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> - -<p>Only at his second summons on the loud, harshly clanging bell was there -any answering sign of life. One of the great doors opened slightly -until checked by a chain, and a woman's voice asked: "Who is it?"</p> - -<p>"French officers, madame. Is the <i>patronne</i> at home?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot see you," said the voice, evading the question.</p> - -<p>The colonel placed himself so as to be visible through the narrow -aperture. "Attendez!" said the voice. The door closed again.</p> - -<p>A minute or two of waiting in the chill, misty air and once more the -door opened, this time fully. "Entrez, monsieur!" said the voice.</p> - -<p>He found himself in a large lofty hall, dimly illumined by the candle -held by a little bent old woman. "Par ici, monsieur!" she said.</p> - -<p>She led him through salon after salon. In the flickering light he could -only just discern that they were richly furnished. At last she stopped -and tapped at a closed door.</p> - -<p>He was admitted into an apartment of costly and tasteful comfort, lit -with warm soft radiance from a shaded pedestal lamp. Pine logs were -burning on the hearth of a high stone fireplace. To one side stood a -grand piano. A great dog, stretched before the hearth, growled surlily. -These were salient details he was scarcely conscious of noting. His -eyes were held by the woman who rose from an arm-chair by the fire.</p> - -<p>Tall, gowned simply in a long robe of soft pale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> green, the lamplight -shimmered on the waved masses of her auburn hair as she moved. Not -vulgarly beautiful—the mouth was large, though well-cut—an oval -ivory-white face looked into his. No longer very young—she was at -least thirty—her instantly felt charm came accentuated by a hint of -incomplete maturity. Those quiet eyes could still look at life with a -questioning scrutiny, receptive of the new experience. They met his -now and a personality leaped into them, communed with him ere yet a -word had been uttered. Outwardly, only, they were still strangers. He -noticed that she wore no jewellery as he bowed courteously, fez in hand.</p> - -<p>"Madame, I am the colonel of the —th Regiment of Zouaves. A necessity, -that must be disagreeable to you, forces me to ask your hospitality for -my officers and men."</p> - -<p>"For to-night only?" Her voice was singularly deep and rich.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps for several, madame."</p> - -<p>"You are many?"</p> - -<p>"Eleven hundred men and twenty officers."</p> - -<p>"A strong battalion!"</p> - -<p>"Three battalions, madame," he corrected gently.</p> - -<p>The expression of the eyes, which had never left his, changed slightly. -The wordless, languageless message they were exchanging with his own -was interrupted. "Ah," she said in a voice of sympathy. "You come from -the battle? From the Marne?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, madame. We were on the Ourcq. Since then, on the Aisne."</p> - -<p>Her face lit up.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> - -<p>"But certainly! Who would refuse anything to the brave men who have -saved France! You will excuse the coolness of your reception, Monsieur -le colonel? We have had other guests—less welcome." The colonel -thought of the broken chain on the gate. "Marie!" This to the old woman -who stood by the door, shading the candle in her hand, incongruous -in this luxurious apartment. "Place the large dining-room at the -disposition of <i>messieurs les officiers</i>. The kitchen also." She turned -again to the colonel. "I can offer only ten bedrooms to your officers, -Monsieur le colonel, but doubtless they can arrange themselves. The -stables are large, there are three barns and a disused mill, and there -is a loft at the top of the house. I hope you will find room for all -your men. There is plenty of straw in the barns. They may use it -freely. Please consider the house entirely at your disposition." And -all this time the eyes were talking wordlessly. And his, although he -knew it not, were replying.</p> - -<p>"You are too kind, madame!"</p> - -<p>"It is a happy privilege, Monsieur le colonel!"</p> - -<p>His business was finished, yet he felt curiously unwilling to go, much -though awaited him to do. His apology seemed addressed as much to his -own hidden inner self as to her.</p> - -<p>"Mille remerciments, madame! You will excuse me if I withdraw? My men -are very tired. Once more, a thousand thanks, madame——?"</p> - -<p>She answered his unuttered question, a smile lighting up eyes and face.</p> - -<p>"—La comtesse de Beaupré et Lysboisée."</p> - -<p>He bowed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Le colonel Victor de Montévrault."</p> - -<p>She held out a slender hand. Involuntarily, almost, he touched it with -his lips as he took it in his own. She did not stir. He did not see her -face.</p> - -<p>"Au revoir, madame, et tous mes remerciments!"</p> - -<p>"Au revoir, monsieur," she answered in her rich, deep voice.</p> - -<p>He felt her eyes upon him as he turned to follow Marie, candle in hand, -once more through the series of dark apartments.</p> - -<p>A little later and the château and its precincts were thronged with the -soldiers of the three war-worn battalions as they installed themselves -for the night. From the great yard between the stables and the barns -came the glow of cooking fires.</p> - -<p>But not for all was the hour of rest arrived. In a little room of the -château the colonel, with his three <i>chefs de bataillon</i> of whom one -only was a major, was poring over a large-scale map and indicating the -positions for the lines of sentries, outposts and <i>grand'gardes</i>. Up -the opposite side of the ravine to that which they had ascended, well -in advance across the high open ground, and down the valley road he -posted them. On the three battalion commanders the greatest vigilance -was enjoined. Ahead of them there should be French cavalry, but those -were the days of flux and reflux in the meeting tides of war, and all -things were possible.</p> - -<p>Later still, the colonel sat at the head of the long lamp-lit table -in the great dining-room. From the walls dim portraits in lustreless -frames looked down upon the backs of the loudly chattering Frenchmen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> -in the exotic, Oriental uniforms. There was little or no talk of the -bitter, terrible but finally victorious days through which they—it -seemed to each of them miraculously—had lived. Animated discussion -of the future was the rule—a future confidently regarded through the -glow of the so recently victorious past. Bold strategic plans were -elaborated, illustrated with cruet and table-knives. There was much -talk of envelopment, of a rapid dash on Le Cateau, Valenciennes and -Mons that should hurl the Boche, deprived of his communications, into -the tangled thicket of the Ardennes, if indeed he escaped at all. The -colonel took no part in these arguments. He sat silently sipping the -wine which a generous hostess had caused to be placed in ample quantity -upon the table. His large brown eyes were soft, the muscles of his face -relaxed. It is possible that he thought of something quite other than -war.</p> - -<p>One of the soldier orderlies flitting behind the chairs touched him on -the shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Pardon, mon colonel, but the domestic wishes to speak to you."</p> - -<p>He turned in his chair to see the ancient Marie at the door.</p> - -<p>"Madame presents her compliments, m'sieu le colonel, and would be -honoured if you would take your coffee with her."</p> - -<p>The colonel rose in his chair.</p> - -<p>"Bonsoir et bonne nuit, messieurs!"</p> - -<p>"Bonsoir, mon colonel," was reiterated from the score of upturned -faces. "Bonne nuit."</p> - -<p>In her cosy warm salon the châtelaine sat by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> fire, a glow softly -playing over her features. At her side, on a little table, a silver -coffee-service steamed. As the colonel entered she looked up to greet -him with a smile, indicating the corresponding arm-chair on the other -side of the hearth. The large dog at her feet raised his head, wagged -his tail in friendly welcome.</p> - -<p>In a few moments they were conversing with the ease of those who -have known each other for long years. Wartime, and particularly the -kaleidoscopic wartime of those early days, is a great ripener of -acquaintance. None might venture to forecast the circumstances of the -morrow, to predict continued life for self or other. The actual moment -must be snatched. The colonel with his quiet assured poise, his alert -intelligence; the countess, polished grande dame and yet something -more, a being of exquisite intuitions, would have set, naturally, to -partners whatever the circumstances of their meeting. Each of the pair -offered interest to the other. He, soldierly, his massive intellectual -head on the broad shoulders, the glowing soft eyes so strangely set -in the cold face, the Oriental Zouave uniform emphasising their hint -of romance, claimed the eye not less than her slender figure, gowned -with the refinement of a consummate civilisation, her supple yet strong -carriage of the auburn glory that crowned the pale oval face, the -flowing, delicate curve from rounded chin to the gently mobile breast. -Her eloquent eyes were long-lashed, downcast towards the fire. He was -asking the reason of her stay here in the danger zone. She turned them -upon him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> - -<p>"This is my own house—my family's house—the château of Lysboisée. -Since my husband's death three years ago I have always inhabited it for -a great part of the year. I have always loved it. I was a child in this -dark ravine, among the birches of the water-meadows. My own life—that -I have never shared with anyone—is here. I am of the country. All the -peasant people know me, love me. And when the war came I felt that I -must be among them, that I could not leave my house, my own dear house, -alone, unprotected against anything that might happen. So I hurried -here at a time when everybody was hurrying the other way. But the -servants had gone. Only old Marie remained, and she and I have lived -here all these black weeks, only Roland," she patted the dog's head -smilingly, "to watch over us. We have had many visits from the German -cavalry, but no violence. They saw, perhaps, that I was not afraid. Now -the people are beginning to creep back to their homes."</p> - -<p>He nodded his head sympathetically, described how the peasants of the -Aisne valley crept back to their farms, continued their field-tasks -close behind the trenches, apparently indifferent to the shrapnel and -the <i>marmites</i>.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she murmured, gazing thoughtfully into the fire, "amidst so -much death the flame of life burns ever higher, will not, must not be -extinguished."</p> - -<p>There was a little pause, during which the colonel sipped his coffee. -Lightly, with the smile of a prima ballerina pirouetting away from -a serious posture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> into which she would have you believe she fell -unwittingly, the countess commenced to talk of Paris of the days before -the war. With a young enthusiasm she spoke of her morning rides in the -Bois, of restaurants and dinner-parties—mentioning a name here and -there that might lead to the discovery of a mutual acquaintance, of -concerts and the play. The colonel listened, speaking little, seeing -her—though she did not so much as hint at them—circled by a crowd of -admirers.</p> - -<p>"And madame," she said innocently, "does she inhabit Paris?"</p> - -<p>"Madame——?" He was obviously at a loss.</p> - -<p>"You are not married, then?"</p> - -<p>"No, madame."</p> - -<p>"But," she persisted gently, "you have doubtless friends in Paris? A -man such as you——" she stopped, smiling. "I am indiscreet."</p> - -<p>"Madame," he replied in a quiet voice, "I have been in Africa for more -than twenty years. The Paris I knew exists no more."</p> - -<p>She turned her gaze full on him. The freshness of the man appeared -suddenly to her. An involuntary little blush suffused her face. She -covered it by a slight withdrawal from the fire.</p> - -<p>"Tell me about Africa," she commanded.</p> - -<p>He spoke at first depreciatingly of the country, the grave of so many -of France's best, so remote from all that to a Frenchman makes life -worth while. Then as he warmed to his description she saw that he loved -that parched land of immense distances where the pitiless sun consumes -the human soul or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> heats it to an intense unworldly fervour. He told of -interminable marches over the glowing sands, of forgotten skirmishes -where a wound was worse than death, of fierce razzias, of lonely -outpost nights in the desert underneath a miracle of stars, where under -the naked presence of the infinite one watched, finger on trigger, for -the gleam of a creeping burnous. She found herself seeking to detect a -deliberate elimination of the feminine in his reminiscences. With sure -instinct she felt there was a woman somewhere in the background. How -far back?</p> - -<p>"You have suffered much," she said, her deep rich voice all sympathy.</p> - -<p>"Who has not suffered who lives?" he replied.</p> - -<p>There was again a pause, where the breathing of the couched dog was the -only sound.</p> - -<p>"Will you not play something?" he asked, suddenly, looking at the -piano. "My opportunities have been few——"</p> - -<p>She rose, went to the piano, and seated herself without a word. She -played, not with the brilliance of the showy amateur nor with the hard -precision of the professional, but as though the notes on which her -light fingers fell re-echoed an intimate music of the soul. Through -the grave breath-restrained emotion of a Chopin Nocturne she led him, -then, with an enigmatic inconsequence, into the flitting, dainty, -Harlequin and Columbine passion of a Chaminade that left a question -poised, smilingly. A moment's interval, and with a deep contralto voice -she commenced to sing a chanson of old France, that followed, simply, -exquisite quiet notes, compact of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> love and the tragedy of love, -poignantly eloquent in their unadorned statement of the theme. He went -across to the piano, stood over her. She felt his presence very close. -A thrill passed into her voice, magical. She finished and stood up with -a sudden movement. His glowing eyes were full with tears.</p> - -<p>"Bonsoir, monsieur," she said abruptly, stretching out her hand. The -voice was not her own.</p> - -<p>He took her hand in his, held it tightly. His breath came in deep -halations from a heaving chest.</p> - -<p>"Madame," he said in a low intense voice, "you are divine!"</p> - -<p>She strove to release her hand.</p> - -<p>"<i>Voyons!</i>" she said plaintively, almost tearfully, averting her face. -"We met only to-day."</p> - -<p>"And to-morrow?—Who knows?"</p> - -<p>"No! no! no!" she cried and tore away her hand from his. "Bonsoir, -monsieur!" She ran across the room like a startled fawn, bowed herself -against the stone fireplace, her face hidden. He saw her shoulders -heave.</p> - -<p>He followed her, stood irresolute. She turned on him suddenly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, isn't there enough suffering in the world," she cried, -"without——?"</p> - -<p>"Without love?" He advanced with outstretched arms, laid his hands -upon her shoulders. She stiffened, fending him off. "Without love? If -to love is to suffer," he said in a voice deeply harmonious, "to love -is also to live. And I have waited so long to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> live! Have waited for -you, my twin soul! We met only to-day? What if we have only to-day to -live——?"</p> - -<p>She leaned back, away from him, yet held in his grasp.</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, no, no! I mustn't listen!" Her bosom filled. Her eyes closed. -She crumpled suddenly in his arms.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The next morning, mounted upon a fine-bred chestnut mare, a zealous -Zouave at the bridle, she waited in the great courtyard behind the -château. She had offered her knowledge of the locality to the colonel -and gladly he had accepted it. He came towards her now on his noble -black horse, bending down in grave talk with the chef de bataillon -walking by his stirrup. She acknowledged his salutation, and a moment -later they were riding out of the great gate together.</p> - -<p>The ravine of Lysboisée lifted its towering further wall of dark -undergrowth immediately behind the château. A narrow path, frequently -stepped, zigzagging through the hanger in steep gradients, made the -ascent of the sheer acclivity possible. Side by side they walked their -horses up, bending often in the saddle to escape the low overhanging -branches. They rode in silence, each in their own thoughts. She glanced -sideways at her companion. It was the face of a soldier, not of a -lover. Obviously he pondered some problem. She sighed. This undisturbed -solitude, the screen of thick woodland arching over them, on the -two pacing animals that nosed each other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> amicably, awoke primitive -instincts in her. But she kept silence, made no movement.</p> - -<p>At last, as though summoned by her thought, he turned his head towards -her.</p> - -<p>"You have received bad news, mon ami?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Orders that throw a heavy responsibility upon me," he answered.</p> - -<p>Again they relapsed into silence. The ascent continued. Only a few -yards short of the summit did the undergrowth cease.</p> - -<p>For a dozen paces the path ran over bare close-cropped grass, then, -sunk in a rough cutting, surmounted the crest.</p> - -<p>A little beyond, on the open down, the grand'garde—a weak company of -Zouaves—was digging energetically at shelter-trenches. The colonel -spoke with the officer, rode on.</p> - -<p>"Would you please take me to the highest point, chère amie?" he asked. -The countess bowed her head, without a word. A touch of the spur, and -he followed her at an easy, touch-controlled canter, his horse eager to -get abreast the mare. At last she reined up, met his eyes with a smile.</p> - -<p>They stood upon a knoll in the downs, wide-spaced horizon all round. -Far to the south and east were the dark masses of the Forêt de Laigue. -From beyond them came a heavy distant roll of artillery. The colonel -listened, searching the panorama with narrowed eyes. At his request -she pointed out localities and the direction of localities. He turned -to look backward, saw the lips of the ravine widening out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> to the -south-east until the slopes fell into another valley. His face hardened.</p> - -<p>"Let us go back, chère amie," he said. "As quickly as possible."</p> - -<p>At a swift, swinging gallop—the skirts of her amazon fluttering in the -wind—they hastened back to the grand'garde. The officer came up. The -colonel took out his note-book.</p> - -<p>"Have you any spades or farm implements, madame?" he asked.</p> - -<p>He nodded to her affirmation, writing the while in his note-book. He -tore out the page, folded it, gave it to the officer. "To be delivered -to the Commandant Legros at the Château. Without delay."</p> - -<p>Then he turned his horse and, followed by his companion, rode slowly -along the lip of the ravine. She searched his features, anxiously.</p> - -<p>He stopped in a depression of the down, out of sight of the -grand'garde. He turned to her, and her heart fluttered at the -tenderness of his face.</p> - -<p>"Pauline," he said gravely, laying his hand upon her arm, "you must not -stay here. Listen! The regiment on our left extends to the head of the -ravine. The orders I received this morning left me to choose on which -side of the ravine I should place my trenches. We advance no further. -We are only a screen, but the screen must be maintained, must not be -risked. I am obliged to choose the other side of the ravine. We shall -almost certainly be attacked. I do not know when—nothing is known. -But you would be in danger. You must leave this afternoon, go right -back—to Amiens, Paris."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> - -<p>She checked an impulse to quick speech, smiled at him.</p> - -<p>"Mon ami, I was almost unjust to you——"</p> - -<p>"You will go?"</p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>"No, cher ami, I remain with you."</p> - -<p>"But if we are attacked and have to retire to the other side of the -ravine? You cannot remain in the trenches."</p> - -<p>"No. I should remain in my house until you advance again." She turned -an appealing, coquettish glance upon him. "Should I be something to -fight for?" She checked his protestations. "No, cher ami, I know all -your arguments. They are useless. What did you say last night?—What if -we have only to-day to live?" Her voice sank, her eyes dropped. "Cher -ami, I want not a moment that your duty claims,—but those others, -those precious little instants, can you not accept me in them? So -little time is ours, <i>cher</i>!"</p> - -<p>The horses had drawn close together. He put his right arm round her -waist. She leaned back, face upturned. Their eyes met in a long deep -look. Their mouths approached, were one. The flame of life burned high -in them. Their horses' ears quivered to a louder roar of the distant -guns.</p> - -<p>Slowly they rode home together, by an easier, more roundabout path she -showed him.</p> - -<p>All that day those of the regiment not required for outposts laboured -hard at the new entrenchments on the high, western edge of the -ravine—a long, long line of delving men. Ranges were marked out;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> -reserves of ammunition, food and water carried up. The energising -source of all this activity, the colonel, laboured also, without haste -and without rest. His brain worked quickly, coolly, definite in its -decisions. She, his companion, unobtrusively at hand when required -for information or material of defence, vanished unnoticed when her -presence might become importunate. She quenched her personality, -transfused, she felt, her life-force into him as he worked, an -emotionless intellect. With his chefs-de-bataillon he elaborated plans -of defence; nothing was left to chance; nothing could be misunderstood. -Personally he supervised, corrected, the siting of the trenches, the -emplacements of the mitrailleuses. In the afternoon he rode over to the -colonel of the adjoining regiment, concerted arrangements. From the -général de brigade he obtained the promise of a battery in support on -the morrow.</p> - -<p>But he was uneasy. Patrols sent out had failed to get into touch with -the covering cavalry. The distant artillery roll was nearer. There -had been one inexplicable burst of fire some miles away to the right. -As night fell he ordered the new trenches to be manned with the bulk -of his force, leaving outposts and grand'garde on the plateau above -the ravine and down the valley. One company only he retained near the -château.</p> - -<p>That evening he sat again in the salon of his hostess. All was quiet. -The dog snored in front of the hearth. At his request the countess -seated herself at the piano, played dreamily with bowed head. The soft -harmonies that awoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> under her fingers seemed only to make the silence -musical.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a shot re-echoed loud along the valley; another and another -followed. There was a burst of rapid, irregular fire, indefinitely -prolonged. The colonel rushed to a window, flung it open, listened. The -outposts down the valley were being driven in.</p> - -<p>His companion had risen, stood by the piano with tense features. There -was a loud hurried knock on the door. She ran to open it. A Zouave -entered, breathing heavily from swift exertion. Saluting, he handed a -message to the colonel. It was from the commander of the grand'garde on -the edge of the ravine above. He reported that his advanced posts were -in contact with the enemy, were retiring. For one moment the colonel -stood by the window, listening to the rapid clatter of the rifles, -deciding which was the heavier attack.</p> - -<p>He wrote an order to the officer above. The messenger disappeared. The -countess was holding out his fez and his revolver. One wild embrace and -he sprang out of the room, dashed through the adjoining salons, out -into the night.</p> - -<p>In the courtyard he found the reserve company assembled, awaiting his -orders. He gave them, quickly, succinctly. The company fell into fours, -doubled out of the courtyard into the darkness to form a screen across -the valley behind which the men above could seek safety. From the -widening ravine the rifle fire swelled in intensity, was a continuous -loud re-echoing clatter. Above, sharp definite reports rang out, -were rapidly multiplied. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> the grand'garde—<i>feu à volonté</i>. -He glanced to the other wall of the ravine and smiled in a grim -satisfaction. His orders were being obeyed. The long line of trenches -he knew to be there lay in silence and darkness.</p> - -<p>Above him there was one fierce paroxysm of fire and then the reports -diminished, sprang from lower levels. He saw quick flashes of light -among the trees. Wounded men limped and hobbled past him in the -darkness. The outpost was retiring into the valley. A bullet cracked -close to him. He turned, suddenly conscious of companionship. The -countess was standing at his side, her pale dress luminous in the -night. The dog growled angrily in front of her.</p> - -<p>"Pauline!" His voice was almost a shriek of alarm for her. "Pauline! -For the love of God, come with me—now—there is yet time! I cannot -leave you!"</p> - -<p>She grasped his hand, as a friend would.</p> - -<p>"No, <i>cher</i>—I stay—as a pledge for your victorious return!"</p> - -<p>The last men of the outpost were running past them. Overhead the -bullets cracked viciously, phutting against the walls.</p> - -<p>"I implore you! There may be heavy fighting!"</p> - -<p>"No, mon ami. I stay." Her voice was quite decided. "I have cellars." -She pressed his hand, then, with a quick movement, flung herself into -his arms, was one with him for a brief second. He unloosed her embrace.</p> - -<p>"Go, then," he said, his voice trembling. "Quickly. God be with you!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And with you, my beloved! Take the dog with you—he will tell me where -you are." She bent down to the animal, whispered to him, pointed to the -colonel. Heavy volleys crashed out of the trees above. She sprang back -into the house.</p> - -<p>The dog at his heels, the colonel raced after the last of his men. They -turned to spit livid spurts of flame at the dark wall of the ravine. In -a few moments they were clambering up a steep path through the wood on -the other side.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later the Germans felt the long line of trenches on the -lip of the ravine, attacked, and were heavily repulsed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>At dawn the colonel reconnoitred the situation from his position on the -height. In front of him the enemy, abandoning the valley in which lay -so many of his dead, had entrenched himself along the opposite edge of -the ravine. Vicious little bursts of rifle fire at scattered parties or -individuals who hazarded themselves for a moment out of cover betokened -the vigilance of both sides, and on both sides the many spadefuls of -earth tossed in the air showed that the work of strengthening the -positions was proceeding feverishly. So far no artillery had entered -into the fray, but at any moment the first shell from one party or the -other might come whining across the gulf. To the right of the Zouaves -another battalion had established contact, was maintaining itself. To -the left, at the head of the ravine, where they joined with the next -regiment, a fierce fight was proceeding—attack and counter-attack -which finally left the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> positions unchanged. Far to right and left the -crackle of rifle fire swelled and continued. Mingled with it came the -rapid detonations of field-guns, their reports ever nearer. The battle -was developing all along the line. The colonel received positive orders -to maintain himself at all costs, to risk nothing. Upon the maintenance -of this thin screen depended the safety of two armies, forming and in -motion, perhaps the fate of France.</p> - -<p>Through his glasses the colonel gazed into the depths of the ravine, -where the white stone château glinted through the dark, thickly -surrounding trees. A wisp of smoke ascended from one of the chimneys -and he had to be content with that assurance that all was well. A -patrol sent out in the first light had failed to reach it. All access -to the château was commanded by spurs from the other side of the -ravine. But apparently it was unoccupied by the enemy. He thought -suddenly of the dog, wondered what had happened to it. In the stress -of the night attack he had lost sight of it, forgotten it. Even as he -searched his memory it came bounding along the trench towards him, -nosed against his leg. There was something fastened to its collar, a -letter.</p> - -<p>As he read it, all the passion of his ascetic, sun-parched years, -awakened by the exquisite charm of that slender pale woman lonely -there below him, surged up in him, overmastering, obliterating all -else. The eloquent eyes under the auburn hair were vivid to him, spoke -to his deepest soul. Her letter was a prose lyric of passion wherein -all emotions—longing, tenderness, anxiety, surrender, pride in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> -lover, even a flash of the doubt born of swiftly-given love—contended. -It was revelatory of her inmost self as her speech had never been. -She, it seemed, had also waited—waited. Some of the phrases in -it—"The burning sacrament of your kiss"—"linked in an instant for -eternity"—branded themselves upon his brain. In a whirl of cerebral -excitement he tore out a page from his note-book, dashed off a letter -not less ardent, not less than hers the ecstasy of a soul that lives at -last in the consuming fire of love.</p> - -<p>He attached it to the dog's collar, pointed away. The animal sprang -over the low parapet, disappeared in the undergrowth below.</p> - -<p>An artillery officer came up, reported himself as the observer of the -newly arrived battery. He evinced much professional interest in the -château, seemed eager to make it the target for his guns. The colonel -explained the situation.</p> - -<p>All through the multitudinous tasks and responsibilities of the day his -soul yearned out to the lonely woman below. To have risked his life in -an endeavour to see her would have been more than a joy, it would have -been the satisfaction of a need of his being—but his life was pledged -to France. To him his duty was a religion with which his love did not -conflict, nay both, upon the summit of his life, blended and were one. -Yet tempted, he found himself speculating upon the possibility of -creeping down at nightfall.</p> - -<p>But night saw the intense glare of three German searchlights shoot out -of the darkness. A storm of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> shrapnel burst fiercely over the trenches -of the Zouaves. A wild attack of shadowy forms surging up out of the -undergrowth beat against the parapet, ebbed back in an inferno of -noise from the long line of countless stabs of flame, was hurled into -the ravine under the reiterated crashes, the sudden livid flares of -shrapnel from the battery behind.</p> - -<p>Down below, at the highest window of the château, the countess stood -looking out into the night, her lover's letter pressed close against -her bosom. High above her flickered and spurted the endless rifle -flashes from <i>his</i> trenches, paling the stars above the dark hill. The -noise of the conflict, the shouts and cries amid the re-echoing din, -was a tribute to his power. She gloried in it, exulted when the attack -subsided, withdrew in a clamour of voices past the château to the hill -behind.</p> - -<p>Descending, she wrote yet another letter to him—a proud pæan of love -triumphant. Then suddenly she flung herself, face downward, arms -outstretched, across the table in a passion of irrepressible tears. -She lay thus a long time, until the heaving of her body ceased and she -slept, her cheek upon the letter.</p> - -<p>The morning was yet young when she despatched the dog once more upon -his mission to her lover. Save for an occasional shot, the opposing -trenches were quiet. Stretcher parties were at work in the valley. -Waited upon by the ancient Marie—eloquent in her protestations of -terror during the night—she breakfasted, counting the minutes until -the return of her messenger. Roland arrived, pleased with himself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> -as his energetic tail testified. Once more with swelling breast and -radiant face she read her lover's letter, passionate as the first. In a -postscript, it begged her to give no information that might imperil her.</p> - -<p>During the day the battle woke again between the trenches at the head -of the ravine, continued in fierce spasms hour after hour. In the -afternoon she wrote another letter, despatched it and received an -answer. She was strangely, exaltedly happy. <i>He</i> was holding firm. -No one came to the château. At night she again posted herself at the -window to watch the flashes from his trenches.</p> - -<p>The third day dawned. She wrote, assuring him of her safety—of much -else. The reply duly arrived. A false peace brooded over the little -valley. Ceding to an impulse, she went out, tried to get a clearer view -of his position, to see—she would not admit to herself her absurd -hope. Then, regretting her imprudence, she returned hurriedly.</p> - -<p>The grey of afternoon already filled the valley when a loud, imperative -knocking upon the great door re-echoed through the house. The countess -stood as if turned to stone; her heart seemed to stop. So soon! The -threat to her exalted, impassioned life of the past days paralysed her. -She could with difficulty cry to Marie to admit.</p> - -<p>A German officer entered, a group of soldiers behind him. He saluted -with stiff ceremony.</p> - -<p>"Madame, I regret you must leave this house at once!" His French was -painfully correct.</p> - -<p>She faced him, tense.</p> - -<p>"And if I refuse?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Then, madame, you leave me no alternative but to arrest you as a -suspect."</p> - -<p>She cried an inarticulate protest. The dog, hitherto standing by her -side as though straining at a leash, sprang forward with an angry growl.</p> - -<p>The German regarded the menace coolly, without moving a muscle.</p> - -<p>"Schönes Tier!" he murmured. Then, turning to his men, he ordered: -"Secure it, one of you!"</p> - -<p>Thunderously growling, with a puzzled look at his mistress standing -like a statue, the dog suffered a cord to be slipped through its -collar. The blood surged into the countess's face.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur——!" The sense of outrage choked her.</p> - -<p>"Madame," he interrupted calmly, "I need scarcely remind you that time -presses. You will not, I am sure, constrain us to violence."</p> - -<p>She met his eyes, was confronted with inexorable necessity. Her hands -twitched.</p> - -<p>"You will at least allow me a little time to collect a few clothes and -valuables?"</p> - -<p>"A little time, madame."</p> - -<p>She ran from the room, hearing as a last sound the dog choking as it -struggled on the leash. In the hall was Marie, haggard, her old body -shaking with excitement. She clutched at her mistress's arm.</p> - -<p>"Madame! what is happening?" She lapsed into patois under the stress.</p> - -<p>The countess replied also, without noticing it, in the language of her -childhood.</p> - -<p>"I am arrested. They are letting me fetch some clothes."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> - -<p>The servant suppressed a cry. "Madame!" The old hands trembled upon -her. "The colonel!—a note to him—he will come—give it to me!"</p> - -<p>"But Marie——" They looked deep down into each other's soul. With a -sudden movement of decision the countess ran into an adjoining room, -scribbled "<i>They are taking me. P.</i>" on a piece of paper, thrust it -into the old woman's hand. "You are sure, Marie?" she asked wildly, -seeking condonation for herself.</p> - -<p>"Chère dame!" was the brief, eloquent reply. The old woman disappeared.</p> - -<p>The countess ran upstairs to her bedroom, the one word -"Delay!—delay!—delay!—delay!" beating in her brain.</p> - -<p>Down in the salon the officer gave a few curt commands to his men, -ordered the dog to be taken into the yard. Left alone, he strolled -round the room examining the pictures, the bibelots, opening the -drawers of the secretaire. The minutes passed. The house was in deep -silence. He began to get impatient, to wonder if some trick——. But he -was sure of the vigilance of his men. A quarter of an hour had elapsed -when he heard a sharp little burst of fire from the German trenches -above. It was not answered. The valley resumed its unwonted quiet. -Exasperated at the delay he began to pace up and down the room, looked -at his watch, gave his prisoner yet another five minutes.</p> - -<p>Suddenly his eye was caught by a little piece of folded paper on the -floor under the piano. He picked it up, opened it. It was a letter that -had evidently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> fallen from the countess's dress when she ran from the -room. He read it through, a gleam in his eyes. "So! meine Gräfin!" he -murmured, and smiled.</p> - -<p>The colonel's passionate outpouring awoke no sympathetic thrill of -romance in his breast. The tip of a pink tongue protruding under -his fair moustache, his clever blue eyes alight, he turned it over, -pondering the signature. From many indications he deduced that the -writer was in the trenches on the other side of the ravine, was of -commanding rank. Even as he considered it there was a knock at the door.</p> - -<p>"Herein!" A German soldier entered and saluted. He brought a message -from the trenches above. It explained the little burst of fire, warned -him. The officer stood for a moment in thought, then his face lit up -with a malicious pleasure. The clever blue eyes saw a sequence of -events—the messenger from the countess, whose sudden scramble over the -opposing parapet had drawn the German fire, imploring rescue of the -distressed; a French commander, intoxicated with love for a beautiful -woman, catching fire at the news, issuing wild orders, seeing only his -mistress in imminent danger; a reckless avalanche of French soldiery -sweeping down the sides of the ravine in a blind quixotic chivalry. He -saw——"Famos!" he ejaculated, and laughed softly to himself. He wrote -out an answering message, a long one, and handed it to the orderly.</p> - -<p>When the countess returned to the room, garbed for departure, she found -him seated at the piano, playing gently with a sentimental touch. He -rose at her entrance, performed a polite bow.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Madame, you appear to have a very interesting house," he said in his -stiff French; "would you do me the honour of escorting me over it?"</p> - -<p>The countess stared at him, dumbfounded. Were her prayers miraculously -answered? Delay!—delay!—delay!</p> - -<p>"If you wish, monsieur," she answered in a calm, controlled voice. -Following the twin thought in her brain, her eyes searched the carpet.</p> - -<p>He noticed the glance, drew the letter from his pocket.</p> - -<p>"I think you dropped this, madame," he said, handing it to her.</p> - -<p>She took it from him. Had he read it? The blonde face that met her -questioning gaze was impassive under its smiling courtesy.</p> - -<p>For an instant they confronted each other. With a cynical sense of -superiority, pleasant to himself, he read her delight at his unexpected -request, carefully though she tried to disguise it, read her quickly -banished doubt that he had penetrated her scheme, was counter-plotting. -He could almost phrase her thankful prayer to God—begging for a -continuance of the miracle—that the barbarian had thus delivered -himself into the strong hands of her lover. He would surely come! Both -as they stood thus silent were calculating the necessary minutes—but -his calculation was a double one. With the politest of bows, he opened -the door for her.</p> - -<p>Together they went through salon after salon, candlelit since he -refused to have the shutters opened. In contrast with his previous -manner, he displayed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> not the least haste. Leisurely he lingered over -each piece, discussed it, appraised it with real connoisseurship -as though he were merely a cultured guest. She loitered willingly, -her brain on fire, every sense at strain. The precious moments were -accumulating. She found new treasures for his admiration, racked her -memory for rare objects that might hold him yet a little longer. He -handled them, was enthusiastic, with calm audacity regretted this -terrible war which imperilled so many beautiful things. Not once did -he depart from his attitude of studied politeness. And while he spoke -she was listening—listening—for the sudden shout, the quick close -detonations, which should announce her deliverance.</p> - -<p>At any moment now! She glanced for the barbarian's weapon, her heart -praying for <i>his</i> safety. Out there beyond the shuttered windows he was -coming in might at the head of his men. She seemed to see him—running -towards her, past the Cupid-crowned fountain. She exulted in the crass -absence of suspicion in the hatefully calm enemy at her side.</p> - -<p>Out there in the twilight the precincts of the château were being -lined with grey-clad soldiers, settling themselves in hidden firing -positions. The officer saw them, with experienced second-sight. He -smiled, blandly. His prisoner loitered, desperately prolonging his -happy preoccupation.</p> - -<p>When they returned to the salon it was to find another German officer -waiting. Unseen by her, they exchanged a significant look.</p> - -<p>There was a sharp, hissing, ugly rush in the air and a loud crash in -the courtyard.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>By a fortunate chance the colonel was near when the panting Marie -scrambled over the parapet to the accompaniment of a dozen rifle -bullets. On the point of collapse, the old woman sank into his arms, -stammered confused unintelligible words, gave him the scrap of paper. -Consigning her to the care of an orderly, he read the message, then -raised his head, his fingers crushing the paper. He stood motionless, -in intense thought. Slowly his eyes turned, fell upon the old woman -shaking more with fright from the narrowly escaped bullets than from -her exertions. Then his gaze lifted, fixed itself with frowning -concentration upon the clay wall of the trench. He saw only with an -inner vision. Around him no one spoke. His jaw set hard.</p> - -<p>He raised himself upon the fire-step, gazed over the parapet through -his glasses. The opposing lip of the ravine, bare of undergrowth -a few yards from the top, lay silent, seemingly deserted. He -called up an officer, handed him his glasses, indicated a point, -ordered an unceasing watch upon it. Then he sent orderlies for his -chefs-de-bataillon and the artillery observation officer in all haste.</p> - -<p>They came. The battalion commanders received definite instructions and -departed. The artillery officer remained with him. The ancient Marie -sat upon the fire-step of the trench, trembling but recovering. She -watched the saviour of her mistress with fascinated eyes.</p> - -<p>The trench began to fill with soldiers. They crouched in their firing -positions, their heads kept carefully below the parapet. Here and -there little groups were busy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> about the machine-guns, fitted the long -comb-like strips of cartridges, huddled ready to hoist the weapon into -action. The watching officer called, without moving his head.</p> - -<p>"Infantry are slipping into the ravine, mon colonel!"</p> - -<p>The colonel, stern, impassive, ordered him to report when the movement -ceased.</p> - -<p>The long trench filled with crouching riflemen lay in a hush of intense -expectancy. There was scarce a movement save the quick, involuntary -jerks of nerves at strain. The old woman's eyes began to wander, -puzzled, seeking comprehension. The wild rush forward she had imagined, -would it never come? She waited, breathless, for the inspiring command -of the colonel that should wake the tumultuous Hurrah! The watching -officer reported:</p> - -<p>"Movement has ceased, mon colonel. About two hundred men."</p> - -<p>The colonel drew his watch from his pocket, glanced at the dial. Beyond -that he made no movement. The old woman's eyes were fixed upon him. -Suddenly she noticed that he wore neither sword nor revolver. In a -flash she understood. She sprang up like a madwoman, crying at the top -of her voice.</p> - -<p>"Soldiers! To the rescue! The Boches are taking away my mistress! -Now! Save her! Your colonel—her lover—abandons her! <i>Abandons her!</i> -Cowards! Cowards! Do you want an old woman to show you the way?"</p> - -<p>She leaped in a frenzy upon the fire-step, tearing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> aside the soldiers -to make way for her with cat-like hands. There was a stir along the -trench. The soldiers knew her, knew her mistress, their generous -hostess. There was a murmur. The colonel stood like a statue carved in -stone. His face was that of an ascetic at the supreme moment. In his -eyes was the glow of a mystic who beholds a vision.</p> - -<p>He turned to the old woman.</p> - -<p>"Be quiet!" he commanded. His eyes rather than his voice quelled her. -She sank in a passion of hysterical weeping to the floor of the trench. -He glanced at his watch again, replaced it, waited. Age-long minutes -passed. He turned to the artillery officer.</p> - -<p>"Now!" he said. "But be careful! As near to the château as possible -without touching it."</p> - -<p>The officer shouted an order to the waiting telephonist. Overhead there -was the rush of a shell, from far behind the sharp crack of a gun. -Leisurely—one—two—three—four—the battery fired. The observation -officer looked over the parapet. The colonel mounted by his side, -watched also.</p> - -<p>One—two—three—four—the battery fired again, repeated itself once -more. Down there among the trees was a faint drifting smoke.</p> - -<p>The colonel counted the minutes as the well-placed shells dropped -around the château of his dreams. He saw, where none other saw, the -sudden alarm below; the prisoner hurriedly evacuated from her home, -dragged scrambling up through the dark trees into safety on the other -side. One—two—three—four. She should be out of harm's way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<p>He turned his face to the trench, shouted an order. As he turned his -gaze again swiftly towards the enemy he had a glimpse of something -upon the bare lip of the ravine—something white, quickly moving. He -had miscalculated! In a sudden agony, he shrieked rather than shouted -a countermanding order. Too late! His voice was drowned in one long -smashing detonation of a thousand rifles in an irregular volley -from the trench. From the battery behind came the rapid, multiplied -hammer-slams of the guns firing at their maximum speed.</p> - -<p>He had a ghostly vision of an anguished woman's face, denying love.</p> - -<p>The ravine was lashed by a tornado of shell and bullets. Caught in its -depths, unseen yet precisely imagined from above, men were clambering -in an agony of desperation to escape from the death that crashed -unceasingly overhead and hailed about them. The white shrapnel puffs -were countless against the dark background of the trees.</p> - -<p>For a quarter of an hour the fierce fire continued, was answered in -bitter anger from the opposing trenches. Then on both sides it died -away. The dead in the valley lay in quiet.</p> - -<p>The colonel, his face rigid, turned to walk along the trench. Suddenly -a dog trailing a cord leaped over the parapet, dashed at him in a -frenzy of joy. Then, perceiving the old woman, it jumped at her, nosed -around her with vigorously wagging tail.</p> - -<p>The old woman shrieked. The colonel looked. There was blood upon the -dog's coat. The old woman drew herself up, held the colonel's eyes. -"<i>Mur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>derer!</i>" she cried with the intensity of a curse, and fainted.</p> - -<p>The colonel strode on.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>On a bitter day in December, three months later, the colonel returned -from his morning tour of the trenches for which he was responsible. -They were trenches in another landscape, far from those whose memory -lay like a sear across his soul. At the entrance to the sandbagged, -wrecked farmhouse which served him as a home the soldier-<i>courrier</i> -was in the act of extracting letters from his wallet. The colonel took -the bundle destined for him. At the sight of the topmost envelope he -stopped as though he had seen a ghost. With trembling fingers he tore -it open, read:</p> - -<p>"My hero! <i>I understood! I understood!</i> Oh, didn't you know I -understood? How grand you are—more than a man! All these weary months -of imprisonment, trial, release and travel, I have been hungering to -tell you this. Home once more, France is more than ever France to me -since you ennobled me in sacrifice. Beloved!—--"</p> - -<p>The colonel hurried into his quarters to read the letter in solitude. -None might see his face.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="THEY_COME_BACK" id="THEY_COME_BACK">THEY COME BACK</a></p> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Whittingham Street, N</span>., had benefited by the war. The long vista of its -windows flush with the pavement was decent with curtains of a cleanness -unwonted before the cataclysm. There were strange dots of reflected -sunlight from brass door-handles and knockers that were polished. These -things were symbols of the newly realised importance of Whittingham -Street's inhabitants in the scheme of society, an importance which, -swiftly translated into self-esteem, expressed itself with a uniformity -natural to life in a mean street. That house was poor indeed which did -not possess its gramophone. The womenfolk were curiously predominant to -those who remembered the old-time loungers at the corner "pubs," and -that womenfolk, disdainful of the feathers of the long ago, was arrayed -in startlingly smart, well-emphasized, cheap copies of the latest -fashions, oddly incongruous with the tall, smoke-vomiting chimneys of -Messrs. Hathaway's great factory which closed the vista of the street. -The sparseness of the men, immediately remarked, received a solemn -significance from the flag-hung shrine on the wall of the Council -School. The children who played in front of it—paper helmet, tin-can -drum and wooden sword—were vividly cognizant that this was a time of -War.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was evening, and from the great gates of Messrs. Hathaway's factory -poured a ceaseless stream of women. But not this evening did that -stream flow down the street with its usual swift and uninterrupted -course. There were checks in it—obstacles of groups that talked -excitedly and forgot to progress—while others in eager haste eddied -round them. On the high wall by the gate, a bill-poster was covering a -"War Savings" placard with another of different meaning. A black cloud -of smoke drifted away from the tall chimneys and was not reinforced -other than by faint and lessening wisps.</p> - -<p>A young woman, one of those whose urgent haste trifled not with -talk, hurried down the street, stopped before one of the neatest -house-fronts, tremblingly thrust a key into the latch, opened and ran -breathlessly upstairs.</p> - -<p>A grey-haired old woman rose from a wooden chair by the side of a -cradle in a clean and modestly furnished room. At the entrance of her -daughter-in-law she laid a finger on her lips and looked warningly to -the infant. Then remarking an obvious distress, she changed colour.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, Ann?" she whispered, shaking with a sudden alarm. -She had to steady herself by the support of the table. "Not—Jim?"</p> - -<p>The young woman shook her head, controlled her panting breath.</p> - -<p>"Hathaway's!" she brought out. "Closing down!"</p> - -<p>The elder stared speechlessly for a moment, then seated herself with -that blank mute resignation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> the aged poor, long disillusioned of -any title to good fortune. The fingers of her unshapely hands twined -and untwined themselves tensely in her lap.</p> - -<p>"Don't you hear, mother?" said the young woman irritably. "Hathaway's -are closing down!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear!" the old woman raised a face that was strained with imminent -tears. "I knew it 'ud never last—I knew it 'ud never last!"</p> - -<p>"What we shall do, 'Eaven knows!" said Ann, viciously accenting the -sole possible fount of knowledge. "They're all closing down—all of -'em, all round!" Her gesture, as she unpinned her hat and put it, with -an excess of energy, on the table, testified to the completeness of -the closed horizon. She stood looking at the sleeping child, her brows -bent, her mouth troubled. Then suddenly she flung herself on her knees -and buried her head in the old woman's lap, shaking with sobs.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I did so want to keep it nice for Jim when 'e comes back! I did! I -did! All we've got together. And now it'll all go—bit by bit! And I've -worked so 'ard—so very 'ard! An' 'e'll never see, never know 'ow nice -it was! Oh—mother!" She could utter no more words, only inarticulate -sounds.</p> - -<p>The old woman soothed her, stroking her hair.</p> - -<p>"There, dear! there, dear! Don't take on! It'll all come right. I can -go out again an' do a bit of cleanin'. I daresay Mrs. Smith'll take me -on again. I ain't done no work for a long while—sitting 'ere eatin' -your bread—I've 'ad a nice rest, I 'ave—I'm quite strong again now. -We'll both get somethin', you see, dear!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> - -<p>The young woman raised herself.</p> - -<p>"No!—No!—No!—You shan't work any more!" She turned her head wearily. -"I can't make it out. <i>What's happening?</i> Why are they all shutting -down like this?"</p> - -<p>The old woman looked at her stupidly. The remote causes which made or -unmade her unimportant existence were beyond her comprehension.</p> - -<p>"What's that?" cried Ann, jumping to her feet. "<i>What's 'e calling?</i>"</p> - -<p>The raucous shout of a newsvendor floated up from the street. Ann -listened for a moment—and then, after a hurried search for a halfpenny -in her purse, dashed out of the door and down the stairs.</p> - -<p>She reappeared after a bare minute, brandishing the newspaper, -wild-eyed, panting.</p> - -<p>"Mother! Mother!" She could not wait to enter the door before -commencing her news. "It's Peace! <i>Peace!</i>" She struggled with the -unfolded paper, crushed it together again, searching eagerly for the -magic headlines. "Here it is! Listen!" The old woman, equally all -trembling eagerness, was standing at her side, pawing vaguely at the -arm which held the newspaper. Ann read out the great news. "'<i>The wild -rumours current during the past few days have received a startling -confirmation. It is announced that an armistice has been signed on all -the fronts. This undoubtedly means a general Peace. The end of the -war has come.</i>' Mother! it's all over! it's all over—and Jim'll be -coming back! Oh, I can't 'ardly believe it! <i>It's all over!</i> Oh, thank -God—thank God!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> - -<p>"All over! My Jim! Safe and sound! Oh," the old woman commenced that -sniffling weep common to the aged and the young. "I can't 'elp it, -Ann—I can't 'elp it!—I must cry!"</p> - -<p>Ann dashed down the newspaper and flung her arms round the old woman -in a close embrace. "Mother! Mother! I never was so"—and here a sob -checked her speech also—"so 'appy in my life!" Face against face, -the tears of the two women mingled—tears not of grief but of emotion -for which there was no expression. Somewhere down the street church -bells were ringing in joyous peal on peal. It might have been merely a -coincidence of practice, but to the two women whose simple souls beat -close together, in a swoon of intense feeling that obliterated the -sharp outlines of environment, this happy rioting of the bells seemed a -holy blessing on the moment.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Ann dear, Ann dear," said the old woman, looking up. "What a -thanksgiving it'll be for all the poor anxious women!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, we're very lucky—we're very lucky. Jim'll be coming back. Think -of it, mother!"</p> - -<p>They kissed one another as if each were kissing the man who would come -back as son and husband.</p> - -<p>"We've got to keep it for 'im," said Ann. "All the little 'ome. An' -'e'll soon be back to work for us an' the baby, an' we shan't never be -parted any more! Oh, mother, think of the poor women who won't 'ave -no one to come back to 'em! When they see 'em marching by! Oh—we're -lucky, we're very lucky!"</p> - -<p>The old woman stood staring out of the window in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> vague thought, her -eye caught by the vivid red of the flags on the War Shrine.</p> - -<p>"It'll be a different world, Ann, when they all come back," she said. -"Them what 'ave been left be'ind all through will find lots missing -what they look for. And them what come back won't come back the same. -It'll never be the same again, any of it; let's 'ope it'll be better."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><i>They</i> were coming back. The Mother-City of the Empire woke, silent of -traffic, decked for a day that knew no sufficient parallel, the day -when the thousands of her sons—those who had gone in their ones and -twos, their single battalions—should march back from vast adventure in -the full majesty of their corporate soldier-life. The London Divisions -were coming back from the War, were marching for the last time at full -strength. And the London streets were tunnels of gay flags, walled with -black masses of citizens kept clear from the sanded roadways. From -every steeple the bells tossed out their exuberant rejoicing. In every -breast of the millions there congregated was a surge of emotion that -exhaled in one sustained murmur of the gladness for which there are no -words but which fills the eyes and chokes the throat.</p> - -<p>They were coming! The thrilling blare of instruments of brass; the -heart-stirring tap and roll and beat of the drums; the intoxicating -rhythmic swinging lilt and crash; the brave gay runs of melody, -sublimely simple, that bring the tears; the solid,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> even tramp of -thousands who march as one—and the leading files were passing in a -storm of cheers, a madness of waving hands. For the last time they -passed shoulder to shoulder in the familiar ranks, marching as they -had marched for all the years of exile, marching as they had marched -down the fatal roads to Loos and Gommecourt, Guillemont and all those -rubble heaps where the bravest and the dearest of the greatest city of -the world died for the fragment of a village and for England. Rifles -at the slope, bare bayonets asserting the ancient privileges that they -had won, O so dearly, the right to flaunt, the heavy weather-stained -pack on the sturdy shoulders, the steel helmets awry with the tilt -of long-familiar use, the brown strong faces gleaming with their -smiles—so they marched, not any more under the thunder of the guns, -but in a frenzy of voices where the madly rioting bells were lost.</p> - -<p>Battalion by battalion—all the glorious names, London's own—the -London Scottish, first in the fray in the long ago, the Queen's -Westminsters, the Kensingtons, the London Rifle Brigade, the H.A.C., -the numberless battalions of the London Regiment—they came, each -with its aura of the deathless dead. They came from the interminable -purgatory of the endless trenches, terminated at last, from the -unimaginable inferno of Hill 60, from the hopeless dying of May the -Ninth, from the fierce hopes, the bitter strife of Loos, from the -massacre of Gommecourt and the bloody fights of Guillemont, of Vimy -Ridge, of Messines, of a thousand places that were humble and are -henceforth names of splendour. Miraculously<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> strong, happy, pregnant -with vivid life they emerged from that distant whelm of peril. And -the eyes that had looked so long at death in the bare fields pocked -hideously with the disease of war, looked up now at the ranked tall -buildings, so familiar and yet so strange, so impressively permanent -after timeless æons of destruction. Behind those windows—could it -be?—they had sat at desk through months and years. Between them and -that past was a curtain of fire, of emotions that had transformed, of -the intensity of life which has persisted in the face of death. And -rank by rank, battalion after battalion, swinging with powerful stride, -they marched back into the past that had seemed for ever gone.</p> - -<p>And those who watched the level ranks flowing in their endless stream, -cheering with throats now incapable of aught but the inarticulate cry, -perceiving them mistily through a blur of tears, saw more than the men -who marched, treading once again the asphalt of the London streets. -They saw the ghosts of ranks, doubling—more than doubling—the ranks -of living men, the ghosts of those who had looked as these looked, -brown-faced, strong-limbed, the incarnation of living will, and were -now no more than the wind blowing over the desolate countrysides where -they had ceased to be. Yet were they present, the men who had died -that England might live. The stir of their souls was in the skirling -pipes, the wail and feverish beat of the fifes and drums, the maddening -purposeful blare and thud of the brass bands. They looked out of the -eyes of those who marched—the soul unconquerable, the living spirit -of the English<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> race. And a divine afflatus swept over the waving, -cheering crowds, swept them to a wilder intoxication. One, whose -faculty of speech was not yet overwhelmed, cried: "Three cheers for the -boys who are left behind! Hurrah! Hurrah!—--" and could not finish. -And a woman who stood, tensely pallid, staring at the so-familiar -badges of the troops who passed, stared at utter strangeness, and fell -as dead.</p> - -<p>The next battalion followed on, singing, carrying on a tune caught up -far back along the route, the farewell song of Kitchener's Army of -1915, sung now as an instinctive antistrophe to that old chorale when -they had marched to war:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 25%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Keep the home fires burning,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">While your hearts are yearning,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Though your lads are far away, they dream of home,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">There's a silver lining</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Through the dark cloud shining,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Turn your dark clouds inside out</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Till the boys come home."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>They passed in a roar of voices that drowned the band.</p> - -<p>So the long, long columns of the London Divisions tramped through the -heart of the Mother-City, under the fluttering of countless flags, -under the surge and resurge of joy-bells from every steeple, under -great banners that proclaimed the gratitude of the city. Rank after -rank they lifted their eyes to the laurel-green inscription that -spanned the street at Temple Bar: "<span class="smcap">Shall We Forget?—Never!</span>"</p> - -<p>Rank by rank they passed under the promise—the thousands of men welded -in the fires of war to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> a wondrous miracle of collective soul—passed -onward for the last time as one living unit, ere they should lay down -their arms, <i>fall out</i>—and disperse, individuals that were fragments -of a sacred memory, the shreds of a battle-flag distributed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Sir Thomas Jackson Hathaway, Kt., Alderman of the City of London, -looked along the masculine faces, spaced with the interstices of the -departed ladies, of the little dinner-party of intimate friends, and -then again to the brown keen visage of his son. He pushed along the -decanter—he was old-fashioned and made a virtue of it—"Fill up, -Harry, my boy—I've been looking after the cellar while you've been -away—there's more of it." He laughed a little at the mirth of his -implied suggestion that there might possibly be a shortage in the -cellars of Sir Thomas Hathaway. And his guests laughed a little in -courtesy.</p> - -<p>"We've kept the flag flying here also, my boy," said the big, heavily -jovial host, puffing hugely at his cigar and then taking it from his -mouth to examine it with a superfluously critical eye. "You'll find -things as well—better, than when you left. You don't mind, gentlemen, -this little talk of shop? After all, we're all friends together, and -most of us have some small interest in the little business, ha! ha!" -The guests were, in fact, Sir Thomas Hathaway's co-directors in the -large enterprises he controlled. He continued: "Better I may say, for -we have been very conservative—we've looked to the younger generation -away fighting our battles for us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>—and we've built up a reserve fund -that a few years ago we shouldn't have dreamed of. You've come back -to a first-class concern, Harry, my boy. Here's to it!" He raised and -drained his glass, setting a followed example to his guests.</p> - -<p>Captain Hathaway had been toying with a match on the tablecloth. He -looked up—quiet and thoughtful, his face clean-cut and aristocratic by -contrast with the heavy opulence of his sire.</p> - -<p>"You don't anticipate Labour trouble, then, father?"</p> - -<p>Sir Thomas Hathaway laughed, a guffaw, and crashed his hand on the -table.</p> - -<p>"Labour troubles, my boy! You need have no fear on that score. We're -going to teach Labour a lesson. We haven't built up our reserve for -nothing.—not only ourselves, but all the houses in the trade. For long -enough we've been dictated to by Labour—and now, by God, we're going -to crush it! Do you know what's coming, my boy? Have you thought about -it? There's going to be the biggest flood of Labour chucked on the -market that the world has ever known. All of 'em fightin'—<i>fightin'</i> -for jobs! And the trade, Harry, my boy, is going to <i>lock out</i>! We're -closed down now, and we shan't open again till our own good time. How -long d'you think the Union funds'll last? <i>We'll bust 'em</i>—bust 'em -for ever and a day. And when we open our shops again to Labour—it'll -be on our own terms! Here, fill up, gentlemen, I can vouch for this -wine—cost me a sinful price it did. We'll bust 'em, my lad, so that -never again in our time shall we hear a word of Labour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> trouble." He -gulped the glassful of his sinfully costly wine.</p> - -<p>Captain Hathaway glanced round the table at the somewhat flushed, -semi-senile features of his father's guests and partners. They were one -and all nodding their heads in varying emphasis of approbation. He got -up.</p> - -<p>"Well, father, I don't think we'll discuss it now. Suppose we join the -ladies?"</p> - -<p>In the high drawing-room, softly lit with diffused radiance from the -ceiling, draped with precious modern hangings that were genuine and -spaced out with expensive antique paintings that were not, furnished -with the luxury of a wealth too utterly complete in its overwhelming -newness to allow imagination its leap across an artistic restraint, -the ladies purred, or cooed in careful falsetto, as they awaited the -entrance of the males. At a grand piano, slightly removed, a young -woman with a delicately refined face played softly to herself—in -a quiet ecstasy of gladness for which this was the only satisfying -expression.</p> - -<p>Captain Hathaway, entering with his father's guests, came straight -across to her, and she looked up, smiling, into her husband's face -as though he had come in response to a murmured summoning spell. She -ceased and leaned back her head against him as he stood close behind -her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Harry," she said, "it's so lovely to have you again—for always, -always!" Her eyes half closed and her bosom heaved as she drank in an -intoxicating realization of his definite return, sketched to herself a -delicious little swoon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> - -<p>"My dear!" he murmured. "It's good! Home—home for always with my -beloved!"</p> - -<p>She clutched at his hand, and for a moment, while the loud-voiced -crowd vanished, they were secret lovers, snatched up to dizzy heights, -intensely thrilling with an exquisite community, eyes looking into -eyes and seeing more than human brain can translate of transcendent -vision. She released him and bowed forward suddenly with a little gulp, -striking, with trembling hands, vague chords on the piano.</p> - -<p>"Now, Ethel, my dear," came the crass boom of her father-in-law's -voice, "when you've finished your spooning, let's have something jolly. -What about that bit out of 'Not a Word to the Wife!' Tra-la-la-la-la!" -He sketched a hideous caricature of blatant banality. "We're all jolly -to-night—none of your mooning sentiment, but jolly. Eh, ladies and -gentlemen?—properly jolly for Harry's first night back."</p> - -<p>Ethel got up from the piano, coupling an allegation of another's -superior capacity with an invitation to perform, an invitation -smirkingly accepted.</p> - -<p>The slangy crash and bang alternating with hyper-emphasized -sentimentality of the current tune was a cover under which Ethel -Hathaway retreated to happy intimacy with her husband. Not for long was -she allowed it. The very-consciously best-looking of the co-directors' -wives sidled up and subsided into the adjacent chair. She yearned -up into Captain Hathaway's face, while she cooed deprecation of her -intrusion to his wife.</p> - -<p>"But I do so want to hear how Captain Hathaway<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> earned his Military -Cross! Of course, I read all about it in the papers—but then—they're -so bald, aren't they? One misses, what shall I say?—the human touch of -heroism."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hathaway caught her husband's eye and forbade the instant flight.</p> - -<p>"Tell Mrs. Jameson all about it, Harry," she commanded coolly. There -was something in the tone which rendered Mrs. Jameson's extorted -confidence quite worthless.</p> - -<p>"There's little to tell," said Captain Hathaway. "The fellow who -really earned anything there was to get—and, I'm glad to say, got the -D.C.M.—was one of my men, a chap named Jim Swain. He used to be in our -employment, Ethel, by the way. It was a pretty tight corner and I got -practically left alone—all the other fellows knocked out—and this -chap Swain came up with a bag of bombs—jolly plucky thing, for there -didn't seem a dog's chance—and we chucked the bombs at the Hun till he -didn't dare raise his head. After a bit, some of another company came -up and we consolidated that bit of trench. That's all there was to it."</p> - -<p>"Oh, how splendid!" Mrs. Jameson enthused vaguely. "Leadership <i>is</i> -everything, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"When you've got something to lead, Mrs. Jameson. One couldn't have -better stuff than my men—they're magnificent. They're the nation—and -now they're coming back they've got to be treated like the men they -are and not like soulless machinery." He wound up on a note of fierce -protest against something not obvious to his hearers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Now, Harry," said his wife, "don't inflict your theories on Mrs. -Jameson. We both of us positively refuse to be sympathetic with the -working class, don't we, Mrs. Jameson?" She laughed lightly. "The -working class is just as selfish as any other."</p> - -<p>A wave of collective chatter from an approaching group engulfed this -conversation.</p> - -<p>Late that night Sir Thomas Hathaway sat alone with his son.</p> - -<p>"Now, Harry, my lad," he said. "You're going to take Ethel away for a -three months' holiday. You've jolly well earned it, both of you. And, -when you come back, you'll be head of Hathaway and Company. I've done -my bit and I'm going to rest. My interest in the business is now being -transferred into your name. That's my little present to you, my boy, by -way of showing that I'm proud of you. And I know that you'll keep up -the fine old traditions of the house, eh?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The curtains had disappeared from the windows of Whittingham Street. -The brass of the doors had lost its polish. The women who had tripped -along in an earnest display of finery were replaced by blowsy unkempt -females who stood at the doors and gossiped. Once more the corners -emphasized by the sordid public-houses were the idling-ground of groups -of men, more numerous, shabbier even than of old. But these men had -not the shiftless look of their predecessors. In their faces, thin -and white, was a hardness which was odd in an urban population. In -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> eyes which followed the progress of a stranger up the street was -a dangerous glare. The flags of the War Shrine had disappeared; its -gilt-inscribed panel was dingy and splashed with mud. At the far end of -the street the great chimneys of Hathaway's works stuck up, clean of -smoke, into a clear sky. The massive entrance gates were a closed wall -across the vista.</p> - -<p>In the little room to which Jim Swain had returned—after the days -unnumbered of life in the open trenches, wet dykes in the winter, and -in summer dusty sunken avenues where death struck suddenly in the -glare; after the countless nights of clear stars rising to a wondrous -infinity of multitude and distance above the dark bank of parapet—Ann -bent over a soap-box cradle where a child whimpered in faint misery. -The room was utterly bare of any furniture save the poor substitutes -of a number of packing-cases of various sizes. The little home which -Jim had established, which Ann had worked so passionately to improve, -was a home no longer. It was merely a squalid shelter for squalid human -animals.</p> - -<p>Ann, on her knees by the child, looked up to the three figures in the -centre of the room, her attention suddenly challenged by the clash of -angry voices.</p> - -<p>A tall man, fierce, with a shock of untidy hair falling on a narrow -brow, a vivid red tie overwhelming the soft collar which kept it in -place, was pointing a quivering finger at her husband's breast.</p> - -<p>"You call yourself the leader of these men," he was saying, in a rage -of scorn, "and you flaunt that scrap of coloured rag—you advertise -your pride that you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> helped the bourgeois to fight his war! Take it -off, man—fling it down and trample on it! The red on it is the blood -of your fellow-workers!"</p> - -<p>"Aye, that's just what it is, Laurence," said the ex-soldier with -equal anger. "And I <i>am</i> proud of it. I'm proud that I did my bit for -England—for England's ours, too, as well as the capitalists', and the -war was our war, the war of the crowd of us—and we went out and risked -our lives while you and your cowardly kind stayed at home and helped -the enemy all you could. That's your patriotism! And now to hear you -talk one would think England was an enemy country! I tell you it's our -country as much as anybody's and our war that we fought for it! The red -on this medal ribbon is the red of the blood of the chaps that died for -it if you like—and I'm mighty proud to wear it. And, by God, Laurence, -while I'm the leader of these poor chaps I won't have any traitor -talk—is that clear?"</p> - -<p>"Your country!" the other laughed bitterly. "What right have you got to -a ha'porth of it?—you, who are being chucked out into the street—you, -who haven't even the right to demand work and earn your bread! Bah! -Militarism has rotted the soul of you!"</p> - -<p>"It taught me to know a true man when I see him, anyway, Laurence—and -you're none o' that kind! You, poisoning the minds of starving men——"</p> - -<p>"And who keeps 'em starving? Who prevents 'em from helping themselves -in the nearest baker's shop——"</p> - -<p>"Now, lads—now, lads!" intervened the third<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> man, a thick-set fellow -in black coat and turned-up trousers over yellow boots. A smug -self-confidence was native to his podgy countenance, was the complement -of the cunning, scheming eyes. "There's no use quarrelling. What we've -got to do is to 'elp each other—we working-men. The Union's <i>bust</i>, -Jim, an' that's the fact of it—an' if Mr. Laurence's organization 'ere -can't give us a 'and—well, I don't know what'll happen. This last -trick of 'Athaway's, chucking the whole street out o' doors, fairly -puts the lid on it!"</p> - -<p>There was silence in the room and Jim glanced round at the haggard -visage of his wife, bending, with tears on her cheeks, over the -whimpering child.</p> - -<p>"Yes, look!" said the tall man. "That's what you fought for, my lad!"</p> - -<p>Jim did not reply. He pressed his hand to his brow as though his brain -reeled. The Trade Union leader tried to profit by his silence.</p> - -<p>"We're properly up against it—there's no dodging it. Mind you, Jim, I -think there's a lot of reason in what Mr. Laurence says."</p> - -<p>Ann stood up quickly and faced her husband.</p> - -<p>"Jim!" she said, and her voice was firm though her chest heaved with -weakness. "You'll do what's right—whatever 'appens!"</p> - -<p>Laurence spoke again.</p> - -<p>"We're perfectly ready to help—but this is the last time of offering. -You know the terms. You're responsible for a good many hundreds of -starving families, Swain—they mayn't listen to you much longer, don't -forget——"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> - -<p>He was interrupted by fierce shouts in the street below, the reiterated -blasts of a motor-horn, the crash of broken glass, a whir of machinery -and yet fiercer shouts. All three rushed to the window. Below them a -motor-car was stationary in the midst of a surging mob. The chauffeur -lay senseless amid the debris of a shattered wind-screen. In the rear -seat a youngish man was defending himself vigorously against the rain -of blows showered on him by the mob which clambered on to the vehicle.</p> - -<p>"My God! Captain Hathaway!" Even as Jim shouted he had turned to dash -down the stairs.</p> - -<p>He flung himself into the fierce mob as once before he had rushed at -the knot of Germans with bombs poised to throw, his captain an imminent -victim. Old instincts surged to supremacy—he fought his way blindly to -the car in a blur of blows. A second later he had dragged a dazed man -into the entrance of the house, had slammed the door.</p> - -<p>"Come on, sir—come upstairs and sit down." Jim forgot for the moment -the wretched room to which he invited him. He was living in a memory -of the trench days where he had sometimes dreamed that his beloved -captain might on some incredible occasion sit at tea with them in a -nice little home and tell Ann that her husband had been a good soldier. -Half supporting him, he pushed him into the apartment, pulled a box out -for him to sit on.</p> - -<p>"Here you are, sir. Take it easy for a minute. You'll soon be all -right."</p> - -<p>Captain Hathaway put his hand to a damp fore<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>head, looked stupidly at -the blood on it, and then, still dazed, stared at his rescuer.</p> - -<p>"What?—Swain?" He smiled faintly. "For the second time, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir—I'm glad to say!"</p> - -<p>The tall man picked up his soft hat, glaring from Jim to the employer -he had rescued.</p> - -<p>"Come on, Bruxby," he said, in a voice quivering with anger. "There's -nothing more for us here—the man's a d—d scab!"</p> - -<p>Jim listened to the heavy feet of the pair of them tramping down the -staircase.</p> - -<p>Captain Hathaway looked around him, then took a deep breath and stood -up.</p> - -<p>"I'm all right again now. It's all come back to me. Swain," he put his -hand on the man's shoulder, "will you believe me when I say I quite -understand—and that's it a shame, a d—d shame! I've been away. I -couldn't do anything till now." He looked at the woman by the cradle, -held out his hand. "This is Mrs. Swain?" She stood staring at him, -making no responsive movement. "Look here, I want to help—here"—his -hand dived into his pocket, fished up a bundle of notes—"why, you're -starving, woman!" He thrust them into her hand and she let them fall on -the floor.</p> - -<p>"I want work, Captain Hathaway—not charity," said Ann, shaking with -temptation resisted.</p> - -<p>The ex-officer turned to his man.</p> - -<p>"Swain," he said. "I haven't been blind to all this—but, believe me, I -couldn't do anything till now. I want to talk to you. Will you listen -to me?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was some time later when Captain Hathaway (who had already seen his -chauffeur into a police ambulance while Jim harangued the crowd into -sullenness) drove his car down to the great gates of Hathaway's works. -Jim Swain, the men's leader, sat by his side.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>In the long boardroom, with its thick Turkey carpet, its heavy mahogany -furniture, its framed photographs of former directors, the controllers -of Hathaway's and its linked houses sat already at the council-table. -The air was heavy with cigar smoke when Captain Hathaway entered.</p> - -<p>"Sorry I'm late, gentlemen—no,—a little accident—I'm quite all -right—nothing at all serious," so he responded to the queries evoked -by his cut forehead as he sat down.</p> - -<p>His father rose, pompous, full-cheeked, settling his pince-nez with -one hand, while he gathered together a little sheaf of papers with the -other.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," he said, "to-day I have to communicate to you officially -what I think all of you know privately—a communication which (hem!) -marks another epoch in the successful history of the house of -Hathaway. I have transferred to my son, Captain Hathaway—who has -not unsuccessfully graduated in the stern business of war—(Hear, -hear!)—my controlling interest in all the enterprises of which -hitherto I have been the head. I propose—and I believe you will second -me in this—that Captain Hathaway be duly elected to the board as -managing director." (It would have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> difficult for the audience -to have disputed this had they wished. There was a unanimous "Hear, -hear!") Sir Thomas Hathaway passed a bulky envelope across to his son. -"Here, Harry, I give you all the deeds of transfer, duly executed and -dated as from yesterday. You are now the head of Hathaway and Company!" -There was a faint sketch of a cheer from the fat old gentlemen round -the table.</p> - -<p>"Now, gentlemen," continued the retiring chief, "before I sit down, -I should like to give you some account of my stewardship. I think -we all of us perceived in the circumstances of the present time an -opportunity to settle, once and for all, our score with Labour. That -opportunity has not been neglected. All the factories controlled by -us, in agreement with the other houses in the trade—which have most -loyally backed our action—have been shut down. The date of their -reopening has not yet been decided upon, but I may tell you this, -gentlemen, the Trade Union with which we have had so much trouble in -the past is <i>bankrupt</i>. We are entitled to industrial peace, on our -own terms—but the terms which we have offered, and which were not -ungenerous in the circumstances after safeguarding our interests, have -been stubbornly rejected by the men's leader—the man Swain. This -left us no alternative but to put on the screw—and we have replied -by serving notices of ejection on all those of our ex-employees who -are behindhand in their rent. I think you will agree with me that in -this we have the fullest justice on our side! (Hear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> hear!) And now, -gentlemen, I retire from my managing directorship and make way for my -son, in the fullest confidence that he will maintain and extend the -great and honourable traditions of this business."</p> - -<p>Captain Hathaway stood up. His face was strangely pale and set.</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen, you have listened to my father's remarks. They represent -accurately the theory of our past relationship between ourselves and -our employees. (Hear, hear!) But, gentlemen, I want to bring home to -you that it is a theory quite impossible to maintain at the present -day! In accepting the leadership of this house, I am fully conscious -of my responsibilities—responsibilities not only to you who have -financial interests in the business, but to those who live by the -employment we offer them and to the State which makes it possible for -them to work and for ourselves to derive profit from that work. From -this day, gentlemen, and for so long as I am head of this firm, our -relations with our employees are on a different basis. The factories -will reopen to-morrow—at the old Trade Union rates, excepting where -the new rates I have offered to the men are more remunerative to them. -The policy of the firm is reversed!"</p> - -<p>Captain Hathaway, in all his experience of war, had never felt the need -of all his courage so much as in making this announcement—which, to -himself, sounded brutally bald.</p> - -<p>One of the directors rose, banging nervously upon the table with his -fist, and shaking with rage.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p> - -<p>"By God!" he said, "I never thought Tom Hathaway's boy would be a -traitor!"</p> - -<p>Sir Thomas Hathaway half rose, and sat down again—looking as though he -were going to faint.</p> - -<p>Another of the directors stood up.</p> - -<p>"Has our new managing director any other harmless little proposals to -make?" he asked, in bitter sarcasm.</p> - -<p>"Yes," replied Captain Hathaway, "I propose to take powers to create -a new Deferred Stock which will rank for dividend after the Ordinary -Stock has received eight per cent, but which will in all circumstances -carry a right to vote on the board—and this stock will be vested in -the representatives of our employees, chosen by them."</p> - -<p>"It will never be agreed to by the men!" cried a voice.</p> - -<p>"It <i>is</i> agreed to already by the men's representatives," replied the -new chief, feeling the coolness of courage return to him as once when -he had faced the mob of Germans.</p> - -<p>The wealthiest of the directors, a man associated with other houses in -the trade, rose in his turn.</p> - -<p>"I warn you, Hathaway, that I shall dispose of my interests in this -business—and I'm going to fight you to the last shilling! You'll be -broke in a year!" "All of us! All of us!" came a chorus of approval. -"We'll all fight! This is sheer madness!"</p> - -<p>"Fight, if you will, gentlemen," said Hathaway calmly. "It won't pay -you. I haven't been idle these three months. I may tell you that I -have contracts in my pocket that will keep us going for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> many months -to come—more than a year. The whole world is shrieking for goods, and -Germany is supplying them—capturing your markets while you commit -suicide in trying to get the better of Labour. In these last months I -have established agents all over the world—and I've got the orders! -I know what the other houses have got—I know what's open to you—you -<i>can't</i> fight us!—but you'll be taken over by the Government if your -obstinacy continues this unworthy industrial strife."</p> - -<p>There was a silence of vague-headed, angry old men who did not quite -know what to say.</p> - -<p>"And now, gentlemen," continued Hathaway. "Let me plead for a better -spirit. That great mass of human beings you coldly call Labour fought -for England just as I fought for England, just as thousands and -thousands of our own class fought. We've been together in the trenches -year in year out and we've learnt to know each other, not as hostile -abstractions, but as living men,—good men, the most of us. We learnt -all sorts of things we didn't realize before the war, but most of -all we learnt—and when I say we, <i>I mean your sons as well</i>—that -we're all Englishmen and that we all have to play the game and stick -together—officer and man. D'you think I who have watched over the -comfort of my men, taught them, led them into danger and seen them -unafraid, who have hungered with them, thirsted with them, gloried in -them for these last long years—d'you think I can coldly condemn those -men and their wives and children to starvation now? D'you think I can -treat them as an enemy?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> I can't. And the men who have been proud of -us, their officers,—d'you think they haven't learnt the value of -leadership? They have—but not the leadership of a slave-master. In the -long bitter years of strife those men have won for themselves a freedom -of soul which is the life-force of a free Empire! Class-hatred! It has -vanished as between officer and man. We're all Englishmen together—and -we're going to work, share and share alike, in the new England, that, -share and share alike, we fought for!" He flung open the door behind -him. "Here, gentlemen, is Jim Swain, the leader of your work-people in -their time of trouble. He saved my life twice—once in the trenches -and got a D.C.M. when he ought to have had the V.C.—and again to-day -when he set a seal of comradeship between the managing director and the -employees of Hathaway's. Together, he and I, and those we represent, -are going to make our patch of England worth the lives that were spent -to save it!"</p> - -<p>There was a hush in the room, and into that hush came the strains of a -military band playing a regiment to the neighbouring railway station. -It played the familiar marching tune of the old days, and a flaw of -wind brought masculine voices in the uplift of the chorus.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 25%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"... There's a silver lining</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Through the dark clouds shining,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Turn the dark cloud inside out,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">For the boys are home!"</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>"They're coming back!" cried Captain Hathaway. "Coming back in their -thousands and their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> millions—officers and men—your sons at the -head of the men they have learned to love! Comrades that can never -be estranged! We're the new generation, gentlemen—the old order has -gone—never to return—we've come back, Swain and I, from the borders -of death that has taught us how precious life may be."</p> - -<p>The heads, bald and florid, of that obese elder generation turned in -a community of curious interest, to gaze at Swain—the man who had -nerved his fellows to withstand an economic pressure they had thought -irresistible and was now hailed as comrade by their own young chief.</p> - -<p>The ex-soldier took a step forward.</p> - -<p style="margin-bottom: 10em;">"I should just like to say this, sirs—we men know what it is to have -good officers—and we've never let 'em down. We've come back, officers -and men, and officers like Captain Hathaway will always find their -men work for them as they used to fight—for officers like him make -us feel the Old Country is worth working for as it was worth fighting -for. We've learnt to play the game—and we'll play it so long as we -have fair play. The British soldier has learnt to die rather than -surrender—and the British soldier is just the British working-man."</p> - - - - -<p style="margin-left: 25%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">PRINTED BY</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND</span><br /> -</p> - - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pg" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLEWRACK***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 60530-h.htm or 60530-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/0/5/3/60530">http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/5/3/60530</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition.</p> - -<p>Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org</p> - -<p>This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</p> - -</body> -</html> - diff --git a/old/60530-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/60530-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b067d26..0000000 --- a/old/60530-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60530.txt b/old/60530.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 835a85c..0000000 --- a/old/60530.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8943 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Battlewrack, by F. Britten (Frederick -Britten) Austin - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Battlewrack - - -Author: F. Britten (Frederick Britten) Austin - - - -Release Date: October 20, 2019 [eBook #60530] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLEWRACK*** - - -E-text prepared by Tim Lindell, Graeme Mackreth, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/battlewrack00austrich - - - - - -BATTLEWRACK - -by - -F. BRITTEN AUSTIN - -Author of "In Action," "The Shaping of Lavinia" - - - - - - -Hodder and Stoughton -London New York Toronto - - - - - TO - CHARLES F. GABB - IN HIS PRIVATE AFFECTIONS - THE PATTERN OF STINTLESS FRIENDSHIP - IN HIS SELFLESS PATRIOTISM - THE MODEL OF A TRUE ENGLISHMAN - THESE SKETCHES OF HUMANITY AT STRIFE - ARE DEDICATED - IN THE GRATITUDE OF A LONG MEMORY - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - The Battery (1914) 1 - - Pro Patria 27 - - Nerves! 48 - - The Air Scout (1914) 70 - - Kultur (1915) 91 - - The Magic of Muhammed Din 101 - - The Other Side 124 - - Na Nos! 151 - - Per la Piu Grande Italia! 162 - - Panzerkraftwagen! 188 - - Nach Verdun! 214 - - The Chatelaine of Lysboisee 243 - - They Come Back 277 - - - - -Practically all these stories have appeared in the _Strand Magazine_, -_Pearson's Magazine_, _Pall Mall Magazine_, or _The Sphere_. To the -Editors of these periodicals I tender my acknowledgments. - -It is fair to state that some of these stories, in particular "The -Battery," "The Air Scout," "Pro Patria," "Nerves," were written and in -some cases appeared before the present War. - - - - -THE BATTERY (1914) - - -The sun hung in the mists of morning, swollen, blood-red, a symbol of -augury, as the artillery brigade pulled out of the village where it had -been billeted for the night. At the tail of its long line of slowly -moving vehicles marched a compact column of brown-clad infantry. In -front moved a squadron of cavalry. The lieutenant-colonel commanding -the brigade trotted smartly past the batteries with his staff. Fresh -from an interview with the divisional artillery commander, he tried -not to look preoccupied and anxious as he met the searching eyes of -his men. From an unknown distance a dull thud, irregularly repeated, -vibrated through the dense atmosphere. The colonel raised his head -sharply to listen. The men in the column exchanged glances full of -meaning. - -The dull concussions continued, but the column did not increase its -pace. The long line of guns and wagons rolled onward at a steady walk, -amid a jangle of chains and harness. The gunners on the limbers smoked -and talked. Occasionally there was a burst of laughter. It seemed that -that ominous thudding was a summons which concerned them not at all. -In the fog which drifted in patches across the road its origin seemed -enormously remote. - -The junior subaltern of the third and last battery in the column heard -the sound with less indifference. Each of those muffled shocks came -to him like a knock upon his heart. He listened for them anxiously -and shuddered, in spite of himself, as the air vibrated on his ears. -He needed none to tell him their meaning, novel though the sound was -to him. They were the first long shots of the opening battle. As he -listened, blindfold as it were in that fog, his animal tissues shrunk -at this menace of an untried experience, while at the same time another -part of him, the dominant, grew fretfully anxious lest the battery was -too far in rear, lest they should be too late. The conflict of these -opposing impulses in him made him nervous and fidgety. He wanted to -talk to someone, to discuss the situation, to exchange opinions upon a -host of possibilities. He looked longingly at the No. 1 of the leading -gun of his section as he walked his horse at the side of the leaders -and chatted quietly to the driver. The sergeant appeared so calm, so -strong with already acquired experience. He felt almost irresistibly -impelled to enter into conversation with him--opening phrases kept -coming to his tongue--but a shame at the weakness of his own nerve -restrained him. He braced himself with a thought of his rank and -responsibilities and remained silent. The subaltern was new to war and -new to the battery. He had come straight from the "Shop" with a draft -of men to replace the wastage of the last battle. He was very young -and, until that morning, very proud of himself. - -Unexpectedly, the column halted. Why? The subaltern chafed. It was -intolerable to idle there upon the road with that urgent summons -momentarily shaking the air. The concussions followed one another -much more quickly now and came with a sharper sound. They seemed to -run all along a wide arc stretched far to right and left in front of -him. Occasionally they came in heavy salvos that swallowed the noise -of isolated shots. He could see nothing. The fog lay thick upon the -road, a white curtain against which danced black specks as he strained -his eyes at it. The column stood still and silent. Only a jingling -of chains arose as the horses nosed at each other. Presently, as the -passengers in a fog-bound train hear the rumble of the other train for -which they wait, a sound came to him out of the mist and explained the -halt. It was the hollow rhythmic tramp of infantry. The sound increased -and then maintained itself at a uniform pitch. In the distance the -artillery salvos followed one another ever more quickly, peal on peal -of thunder. Still the hollow beat of boots upon the road continued. The -subaltern swore to himself. Were they to wait there while the entire -army passed? At last the hollow sound diminished, died down, ceased. A -sharply uttered order ran down the column. The line of vehicles moved -on again. - -For a long time they marched through the fog, drawing ever nearer -to the cannonade. There were no more halts. Nevertheless it seemed -to the subaltern that their progress was wilfully, culpably slow. -As a matter of fact, the column, responding to the magnetism of -battle, had involuntarily quickened pace. The physical anxiety of -the subaltern communicated itself to, and was misinterpreted by, his -brain. He imagined that he was concerned wholly for the fate of the -army if deprived of the valuable support of the brigade to which -he was attached. He conceived enormous disasters hinging on their -non-appearance. Suddenly he noticed, with surprise, that his knees were -trembling against the saddle, his hands shaking as they held the reins. -This discovery startled him. His anxiety for the army was obliterated -by another. Could he be sure of himself? A spasm of alarm shot through -him. Would that calm mysterious higher self in him lose control? He had -a glimpse of himself in a whirlwind of sensations, a maddened animal -dashing to escape. It must not be. He exercised his volition as an -athlete exercises a muscle, testing it. Desperately, he willed himself -to immobility. The tremor in his limbs did not cease. He agonised -lest someone should perceive it. Sweat broke out on his forehead. -Nevertheless his brain was clear. He held fast to that. Never mind -what his body did, at all costs his brain must be kept clear and cool. -Engaged in these introspections he forgot the fog, forgot the lagging -brigade, forgot the ever-swelling uproar in front of him. - -Suddenly the mist broke, rolled away from a sunlit landscape. They -were at the summit of a slight elevation. About them was open country, -dotted with trees and farms. In front the road dropped and then -mounted. He looked over the heads of the artillery-men before him -and saw a long column of infantrymen ascending the further hill. It -was for that column that the brigade had waited. The recognition -of the fact reawakened perception through a linked memory. He heard -again the pealing thunder of the guns, to which for some minutes he -had been oblivious. Instantly an intense, anxious curiosity took -possession of him. Where were they fighting? In the fog his mind had -formed a picture of lines of guns coughing out flame and noise at -each other, desperately in conflict, just at the other side of the -curtain drawn before his eyes. Now, the veil dropped, he looked at -reality and only so much of the picture persisted as to puzzle him. -Save for the column marching ahead there was no sign of life in that -open countryside. Yet the air was full of sound. No longer was it a -series of dull concussions. It was one vast, continuous, ringing roar, -broken at intervals by the sound of violent fracture as a puff of wind -came to his cheek. Excitedly, he strained his eyes at the distances, -seeking some point where he could localise the conflict. There was -nothing. Yes! Far ahead of him, beyond the hill which the infantry were -climbing, a faint haze of smoke hung in the air. In that haze tiny -puffs sprang into being and spread lazily. There, then! Encouraged, -his gaze searched the landscape. Far to his left, over a little wood -that closed the view, hung another such haze, and, as his eyes ranged -over the country, he saw a line of smoke-puffs leap from nowhere above -a hill to his right. The line was constantly renewed until the smoke -trailed across the blue sky like a cloud. A thrill ran through him. He -forgot himself, lost all memory of his doubts. He quivered, but it was -with eagerness to rush into the fight. Oh, to mount that hill and see -what was happening! The infantry drew up over it, disappeared beyond -the summit like a snake drawing in its tail. The artillery crawled -onward. - -He was calculating the minutes that must elapse before their arrival on -the crest when suddenly his hopes were dashed. The brigade was turning -off along a by-road to the left. Baulked of his desire, he swore -savagely, almost with tears. A man on the limber near him looked up in -sharp surprise. He desisted, clenching his teeth. Inwardly he raged. -As he too swung round the corner, his back to the direction of the -smoke-cloud he had so excitedly watched, it seemed that he was turning -out of the battle. The brigade moved for some distance along that road -and then halted, drawn close in to the hedge. Behind them swelled the -noise of tramping infantry, growing louder. The men who had followed -them were going to pass. They came, swinging along at a good pace, -steadily rhythmic. They passed, endlessly. The subaltern found himself -gazing curiously at the faces of men in the stream. Some were stern and -set, some laughed carelessly, some shouted jokes to the artillery-men, -many were strangely haggard and drawn. He noticed one man who gazed at -nothing with a rapt expression. His lips were moving. He was praying. -They were going into battle. The subaltern was again aware of the -thunder of the guns. - -The brigade waited. The tramp of the infantry had long since ceased. -They seemed alone, forgotten, on the road. Suddenly an order was passed -down the column. The subaltern repeated it, almost before he was aware -that he had heard it. "No. 3 Section--Prepare for action!" Instantly -the gun detachments leaped to the ground. The breech and muzzle covers -were removed and strapped to the front of the gun shields. The breech, -the firing mechanism, the ranging gear, the sights were swiftly -examined. The men on the ammunition wagons tested the opening of the -lids, looked to the fuse indicator, saw that the fuses were at safety. -These things done, they resumed their seats. The subaltern's heart beat -fast. Now? - -Minute after minute passed. The brigade waited in all readiness to -move. Presently the order came. "Walk!--March!--Trot!" They passed -quickly along the road. The subaltern looked ahead, saw his battery -leader turn through a gate into a broad meadow on the right. The other -batteries were turning into the field further up. He lost sight of one -of them. He arrived at the gate, wheeled into it. "By the left--Form -Battery Column!" The subsections of single guns drew out and up level -with the other gun of the section, each with its following wagon. -The first line or reserve wagons dropped behind. The battery trotted -smartly forward across the field. It was a large meadow, unintersected -by hedge or ditch, rising gently to the ridge whereto their original -road had climbed. At the summit was a small copse. Far in front the -subaltern saw a group of horsemen riding swiftly towards it. He knew -it for the colonel and his staff. Between him and them was a mounted -figure, halted, and, some distance further away, another figure. It was -the battery commander and the sergeant-major marking the position of -the battery and the line of fire. The battery went on. The ridge was -looming up close in front. "By the left--Form Line!" The guns wheeled -into a long line. Their accompanying wagons slackened speed, fell some -forty yards in rear. "Walk!--Halt!--Action Front!" The guns stopped. -The detachments leaped down. Two men seized the gun-trail, unhooked it -from the limber, gave the order "Limber drive on!" The horses trotted -quickly round in a half-circle and went to the rear. The trail was -carried round, reversing the gun. A moment later the attendant wagon -came up, placing itself close on the left, its axle a little in rear -of the gun-axle. About each gun in the line there was a second or two -of busy movement. The No. 1 threw back the traversing lever, laid the -gun approximately in the true direction, noted the level of the wheels. -Others lowered the shield, put on the brakes, fixed the sights. Two -others opened the ammunition wagon and half withdrew a number of rounds -in readiness. The subaltern's horseholder came up. As he surrendered -his mount he felt that he was stepping into the arena. - -He looked along the line of guns. The detachments of each were in -position, motionless--No. 1 kneeling on the left side of the trail, 2 -on the seat on the right-hand side, 3 on the left, 4 kneeling behind 3, -5 and 6 kneeling in rear of the wagon by the gun. At the right-hand end -of the line was the battery commander. In front of him a wagon-limber -had been placed for his protection. Up the hill-side men were swiftly -paying out a telephone wire. A lieutenant and a couple of look-out men -were cantering up to join the party now halted at the side of the copse. - -The subaltern turned to see the captain of the battery at his side. He -smiled and nodded. "How do you feel?" he asked. "Shivery?" The captain -was in command of the first-line wagons in reserve. He stood near the -battery to watch the expenditure of ammunition. - -The subaltern placed himself behind the wagon of his gun nearest the -commander, and waited, stiffly erect. He felt himself tingling with -eagerness, yet he could scarcely bring himself to believe that this -was battle. It might have been parade. He forgot the all-swallowing -roar about him, remembered only that he was in command of those two -guns, was responsible that they dealt out death coolly, accurately, -scientifically. - -The telephone was complete. A man knelt on the ground near the battery -commander, the receiver to his ear. Almost immediately there was a -sharp order. "Lines of Fire!" From each gun a man ran out quickly -towards the ridge with a couple of black and white posts. He planted -them in line and ran back. The angle of sight was passed down the -battery. The gun-barrels moved slightly, aiming at the invisible -enemy. Despite the ceaseless roar with which the air trembled, a -hush of expectancy seemed to lie over the line of guns. Other orders -came quickly down the battery from the commander. "Angle of sight -1.25' elevation."--"Collective."--"Corrector 154."--"4100." No. 6 of -each gun called out the fuze. Five set it, passed the shell to 4 who -pushed it into the breech. Two closed the breech and adjusted the -range indicator. Three laid the gun and sat with his hand on the firing -lever. "Ready." - -"Fire!" The No. 1 of the first gun repeated the order. Three pulled -the lever sharply upwards. A long tongue of flame spurted out of the -muzzle with a deafening report. The gun-barrel shot violently back -under its hydraulic buffer and was in place again ere the eye could -well note the movement. The other two guns of the right half-battery -fired successively at three seconds' interval. The men at the telephone -received a message. It was transmitted as orders to the battery. "No. -1--30 degrees more right. No. 2--20 degrees more right, No. 3--30 -degrees more right." "Left half--30 degrees more right.--Corrector -162.--4300." The three shells already fired had gone too far to the -left. "Fire." The subaltern heard the order of the sergeant on his -right. "No. 4--Fire!" Then his own sergeants, "No. 5--Fire!" "No. -6--Fire!" He thrilled at the loud explosions. He was in action! He -was flattered to find how clear his mind was, how steady his nerve. -He supervised the laying of the guns as the next order came down the -line. "Corrector 158--4350.--One round battery fire." At five seconds' -interval the six guns fired one after the other. There was a wait. Had -they found the range? Yes! "Section Fire--10 seconds." He was engrossed -with his two guns as they were swiftly loaded and fired at the interval -ordered. - -Away to his left the other two batteries of the brigade were firing -likewise. The rapid, violent reports of the line of guns overlapped, -merged into one long-drawn-out explosion that intensified spasmodically -as two or more fired at the same instant. The clamour of the general -battle was obscured, forgotten. The subaltern glanced at the bare -hill in front of him, over which the shells from the brigade were -streaming at the rate of one hundred and eight a minute. On what were -they falling, two and a half miles away? A straggling thought in him -found leisure for the question while yet the main forces of his mind -were concentrated on the busy detachments and the guns they served. He -had scarce noted it when an order was passed down the battery. "Stand -fast." Immediately there was silence. Only a faint haze spread and -thinned between the gun-muzzles and the ridge to show that they had -been at work. What of the distant, invisible target? The captain, who -had been standing by the battery commander, passed on his way to the -wagons. The subaltern stopped him. - -"What was it?" he asked. - -"Battery coming into action--just caught 'em--wiped out," answered the -captain laconically and hurried on. - -The subaltern stared--horror-stricken involuntarily. Wiped out! He -tried to imagine the wreckage of that battery overwhelmed in a few -instants by a rain of shells coming from they knew not whence. He -failed. In that meadow, strangely quiet now despite a terrific din that -welled up from over the ridge, he could not picture it. The hill in -front was a wall across his vision. - -The brigade waited, but no further orders came. For the moment their -work was done. The guns stretched across the field, their muzzles -elevated, like a row of silent, expectant dogs. The lieutenant -commanding the adjacent section came up and asked the subaltern for a -cigarette. The subaltern gave it, repressing a smile. That lieutenant -never had any cigarettes. - -As he relaxed from the strain of those few furious minutes the -subaltern felt suddenly hungry. He remembered that he had filled a -pocket with biscuits and munched at one as he gazed idly along the -battery. Fitfully his mind returned to the brief activity of his guns -and he contemplated the recollection with comfort. Never had he lost -mastery over himself. He was a man tried and proved. - -With a vague dull curiosity he watched the group by the wood on the -hill above him. Members of it were moving to and fro. He noticed one -figure standing with both hands up to his face, his elbows sticking -out. He was examining something through his glasses. The subaltern -wondered whether it was the colonel and the thought came to him that on -a word from that man he and his fellows might be hurried to death as if -to execution. Every minute, orderlies rode at speed up to the group. - -Presently an order came to the battery. It opened fire again, this time -deliberately, without haste, at 2500 yards and in a slightly different -direction. Again the subaltern appealed to the captain for information. - -"Infantry advancing. We've only got a screen there. Sixth Corps coming -into action on our right. We're filling the gap between it and the -Second Corps. Enemy are trying to break through." - -"Oh," said the subaltern, "we're in for a hot time, I suppose." He said -it carelessly, without any idea of what was coming. - -"We most certainly are," said the captain. The emphasis of the reply -startled the subaltern, made him feel uneasy. He devoted himself to -his guns in an effort to banish the anxiety which threatened him. The -gun-squads were working with unhurried precision. A man kneeling behind -the wagon drew out the long projectile, set the fuze, passed the shell -to his fellow at the gun, the breech was closed, the lever pulled, and -the gun spoke with an exactly equal interval between rounds. They might -have been feeding a machine in a factory, so regular, so unemotional -was the operation. Behind the wagon the ground was littered with the -canvas cartridge clips. Behind the gun the flung-back brass cartridge -cases mounted to a heap. In front the air was blurry with gases. -Away to the right a new series of reports broke out. More batteries -had evidently come into action. Coalescing all individual sounds the -general clamour of the battle swelled in surges of hideous noise from -one deep-toned, continuous roar. The subaltern became habituated to it, -scarcely noticed it. - -Happening to look round he saw a howitzer battery coming into the -field. A few minutes later the regular sequence of its detonations told -him it had got to work. It was evident that troops were being hurried -up to meet the threatened attack. Along the hill-side to the right a -line of infantry was strung out, advancing towards the wood. Another -followed it. When he turned again he saw more infantry entering the -field and deploying. He got a glimpse of the road filled with brown -caps that just showed above the hedges. Almost immediately the battery -ceased fire. Only the periodic discharges of the howitzers continued. -The battery commander was kneeling over a map spread upon the ground. -Up by the little wood a heliograph was flashing rapidly. A little -further on a couple of men were flag-wagging with vigour. Some crisis -was approaching. Behind him the infantry commenced to advance. On his -left front a couple of men spurred horses up the flank of the bare -hill-side. - -The infantry passed the battery in their advance, the company that had -remained in column to avoid the guns deploying into the line. Another -line of supports followed and behind them another. They went steadily -up the hill, the two scouts from the battery passing through them as -they galloped back. The subaltern thrilled with a sense of imminent -danger. As yet he had seen no shell burst. Now it was going to begin. -The howitzer battery still fired over the heads of the advancing troops. - -Up and up went the first line. The subaltern watched it with a -throbbing heart. It opened its files as it went, and, when nearly -to the crest, broke into a steady run. It reached the summit. For -a moment it showed black against the sky. Now? Nothing. The line -disappeared over the hill. The second line mounted, doubled, showed -against the sky and instantly a crowd of smoke-puffs leaped into the -air above it. He saw tiny figures knocked all ways to the ground and -immediately afterwards a run of sharp crashes came to his ears. The -line disappeared over the hill, leaving behind figures that lay still -and figures that tried to crawl out of the way of the third line. He -watched them, fascinated, through his glasses. The third line advanced, -undaunted. The crowd of smoke-puffs broke out again ere it reached the -summit and continued while it passed. When it had gone, the subaltern -noted an increase in the number of prostrate figures. Behind him more -infantry collected in the field but no more advanced. The hostile -shrapnel continued to burst over an empty hill-side. Presently it -ceased. From the other side of the hill arose a furious, feverish -crackling, noticeable even in the general uproar. The battery waited -for it knew not what. - -Slightly wounded men began to trickle down the hill-side. One passed -close to the subaltern, lurching unsteadily. He was bleeding profusely -from a wound in the head. He stopped, swaying from side to side, and -looked at the lieutenant with a glare of idiocy. "Hell," he said with -sombre simplicity, "Hell," and then went on without waiting for a -reply. The lieutenant was inexpressibly shocked. It made him feel ill. -He turned and saw the wounded man walking like one blind, hands out, -across the field. The one word, "Hell," rang in his ears. He nibbled at -another biscuit to steady his stomach. "Pretty rotten that," he said -to himself, striving to get rid of the sensation by classifying it. -"Rotten." - -Then the orders came. The gun-teams dashed up and in a few moments -the battery was moving at speed to its left across the meadows. Its -route was a diagonal directed on the ridge. It went in all haste. Its -half-depleted wagons had been replaced by full ones from the first -lines. The subaltern felt that he was rushing towards a crisis. He was -strangely exhilarated as he galloped on towards a line of trees that -rose to the ridge at right angles. A gate showed in the line of trees -and beyond the gate a road. The battery slackened speed, dashed through -the gate, vehicle after vehicle, and turned to the right towards the -ridge. The road was narrow, walled with high hedges and overhanging -elms. It mounted to a shrub-filled notch on the height. There the -battery was halted. The half-filled wagons now composing the first -line drew into cover. The battery-commander and several men rode on. -The battery waited, screened by the wooded crest of the hill. From the -unseen landscape in front arose an appalling tumult of sound. It was -like the noise of a colossal conflagration; the roar of flames, and the -crackle of burning woodwork enormously magnified. - -Suddenly the battery moved on again. Quickly it mounted the crest and -dipped down on the other side. Again a gate on the right hand and in -a moment the battery was racing at full speed across a stubble-field. -A hundred yards ahead galloped the commander. To their left was open -country, full of sound. Above them, over the ridge upon their right, -a run of sharp explosions broke out. The subaltern heard them without -heeding. He shouted encouragement to his men as they dashed across the -field, though his voice was scarcely audible to himself. He was in a -whirl of excitement. Life hung on every second. - -"Halt!" The guns stopped, were unlimbered and reversed in an instant. -The teams raced back to cover. The wagons dashed up beside their guns. -Around them one or two shells burst harmlessly upon the ground, like -the first heavy raindrops which precede the storm. It broke. Overhead -the sky collapsed with a fearful crash. The subaltern saw a myriad -spouts of dust leap up from the stubble, saw his most trusted sergeant -fall like a sack across the gun-trail. There was another riving crash -overhead. The subaltern turned to hear an order megaphoned from the -sergeant-major at the end of the line. "Guns in Action--Just below -Church." He whipped out his glasses, focussed quickly for the church, -saw a row of pin-points of flame flicker along a hedge. A moment later -the air in front of him was shaken by a group of crashes, followed on -the instant by a long, high-pitched drone. In the middle of it he heard -the megaphone. "3350 yards--Corrector 140." The men worked desperately -at the guns, like sailors in a blinding storm. The shrapnel beat down -among them like hail, ringing on the shields. "Section Control." The -subaltern gave the order. "Fire!" The whole battery fired swiftly, his -guns among the first. He watched the distant hedge below the church -through his glasses, saw a crowd of smoke-puffs burst over it even -as the flame-points flickered again. He shouted an alteration of the -corrector and his voice was swallowed by the crash of the hostile -shells. Again the shrapnel droned, flicked up the dust around him. He -heeded it not. He saw a man roll over with a shell in his hands. He -sprang to him, seized the shell, thrust it into the breech without -the loss of a second. Rapidly the guns fired. Away to his right he -heard the quick detonations of the other guns and again the crash -of bursting shrapnel. He gazed again at the distant hedge. It was a -duel between that battery and his. Extinction was the portion of the -one which failed in speed and accuracy. With a savage thrill he saw -a high shaft of flame spout up behind the hedge. A shell--he claimed -it as his--had plumped into an ammunition wagon and exploded. Wrought -to fever-pitch, the artillery-men loaded and fired. A cloud of dust -hung about each gun, obscuring the view, stabbed every few seconds -by a sharp thrust of flame. Down the hill-side the smoke of shrapnel -which had burst too low drifted close to the ground like steam from a -passing locomotive. Away in the distance, along that hedge--the men -in the battery saw only that, were oblivious to all else--a cloud of -smoke gathered, grew thicker every instant. Under it the pin-points of -flame flickered with ever longer intervals between the flashes. Over -the battery on the hill the shrapnel burst with less and less of noise, -less and less of accuracy. The subaltern exulted. They were getting -the upper hand. He yelled stimulation to his men. His two guns fired -faster even than before, raining shells at the hedge. Suddenly he was -aware that the hostile shrapnel had ceased. Behind the hedge he saw a -cloud of dust arise. Their enemy was retiring at speed. He altered the -range, flung shells into the dust-cloud until it disappeared. "Battery -Control--Stand fast." The guns ceased fire. - -The subaltern turned to look at what he believed to be the wreckage -of his battery. It was littered with dead and dying men. A wagon lay -on its side, was being righted as he looked at it. Men pulled away -a body from underneath. Every vehicle in the line, guns and wagons, -was pock-marked with splashes of lead. The shield of one gun had -been neatly perforated by a shell and the crew of that gun lay about -it as they had been dispersed by the explosion. Their clothes were -still on fire. The subaltern was staring stupidly at them when the -lieutenant who never carried cigarettes approached. He opened his -mouth to speak--no doubt to ask for another cigarette--when suddenly -his expression changed to a sickly smile and he pitched forward. The -subaltern turned round in a flash of savage anger. This was murder. -They had finished fighting---- - -"Infantry advancing across stream--1800 yards," came the stentorian -voice of the sergeant-major. The subaltern understood as he ran back -to his guns. It was to repel the infantry that they were there. The -duel with the other battery was merely an episode. He looked down into -the valley below him, saw that it was filled with little grey figures. -A stream bisected the mass. They were advancing quickly, in rushes, -apparently without opposition. Some of the foremost were lying down, -firing at the height. Below him, from origins that were hidden by a -fold of the ground, rose the noise of a fierce and sustained rifle -fire. The battery got to work again. Methodically, evenly, it sprayed -that advancing horde with shrapnel. Other batteries, invisible to them, -were helping, for a larger number of shells burst over the foe than -they accounted for. The vicious little puffs of smoke multiplied. The -subaltern watched their effect with cool, unemotional interest. It was -like striking into a mass of ants. Numbers sprawled; the multitude was -undiminished. He hurled his thunderbolts upon them like a god, himself -serenely unassailable. A half-contemptuous pity for them arose in him -but did not interfere with the exact performance of his duties. The men -at the guns laughed. - -Suddenly, without warning, the air above him was riven with a triple -crash. The familiar drone followed, was blotted out by a second -violent detonation. Gusts of smoke blew across the sky. A hail of -shrapnel bullets kicked up the dust, pattered on the guns. His cap was -knocked from his head by an invisible hand. A man at the gun sprang -up, performed a grotesque parody of a dervish-dance, twirled with -outstretched arms, and collapsed. Another sat for a second with both -hands to his head and fell back. For a moment the service of the guns -was suspended. The subaltern ran towards it, shouting. The diminished -crew bent grimly to their task. The overhead crashes of the shrapnel -came down in one continuous detonation. The bullets rained down upon -them in heavy showers. The hostile artillery had got their range -exactly. Where were they? The subaltern searched the distance for -gun-flashes. He saw none. Their enemy was invisible, snugly tucked -away somewhere. It would have profited little to have discovered them. -His orders were to fire at the infantry and at the infantry his two -guns fired, as fast as depleted squads could serve them. The rest of -the battery fired likewise. He did not see how many guns were still in -action, could not spare a moment to look. His attention was held by the -swarm of advancing figures. The hail of shrapnel was an agony at the -back of his consciousness; he ignored it, resolutely. - -Suddenly a horse pitched and rolled, kicking violently, at his feet. It -startled him. He had not seen it arrive. A man disengaged himself from -the struggling animal, stood up and shot it dead with his revolver. It -was the captain. - -"In--command--at the infantry--section control--carry on," he panted, -and ran to his place at the end of the line. - -The battery commander was killed then! The thought flashed across his -mind, was lost in the urgent business of the moment. He shortened -the range, altered the corrector, aiming at the nearer edge of the -approaching infantry. A moment later three or four men arrived at a -sprint and reported themselves. The subaltern heard without emotion -that more had started, would never arrive. He detailed them. The -discharges of the guns followed faster. - -How long this phase lasted the subaltern never knew. Ordinary standards -of time could not measure that nightmare where he constantly shortened -the range, hurled unavailing thunders at an inexorably advancing -flood. He remembered the moment of agony when he saw that they were -running out of ammunition, the joyous relief when the first-line -ammunition-wagons raced up and stopped at the right hand of the -guns. Under a pall of smoke from the bursting shells he saw his -gun-crews dwindling, each man doing the work of two, of three. Once -a heavy explosion on the ground attracted his attention. It was the -commencement of a series. Choking fumes, now black, now yellowish, -drifted over him. A howitzer battery had joined their assailants, was -firing high explosive. Exasperated, he searched the distances for a -glimpse of the hostile guns. He saw no sign of them. They were being -overwhelmed, as they themselves had overwhelmed the battery he had not -seen, by foes whose concealment he could not even guess at. - -Suddenly--how, he knew not--the word was passed to him: "In command." -He ran to the end of the line, found the sergeant-major crouching -behind the wagon-limber. Blood was running from a diagonal bullet-score -across his face. Close by were the bodies of his predecessors in -command. - -"Four guns in action, sir," said the sergeant-major. "Brigade -commander's orders: 'Hold our ground.'" - -"How long ago?" queried the subaltern. - -"Some time," was the reply. "Not sure--but think the colonel and staff -are killed, sir." - -The subaltern looked along the line of guns, frowned at the tiny groups -of gunners. - -"Where's the observing party?" - -"At the guns, sir." - -"Rangetakers? Horseholders?" He had to shout to be heard in the -continuous crashing of the shells. - -"At the guns. Every man in action, sir, except with the horses under -cover." - -The subaltern took in the situation, glanced at the advancing infantry. -Despite the efforts of the battery the nearer of them had got close, -were now hidden by a fold in the ground. From that fold of ground came -a frenzy of rifle-fire and, he fancied, shouts and cries. With despair -in his heart, he determined to "hold his ground." Veiled in dust and -smoke his four guns fired irregularly but rapidly. - -A tumult of noise broke out to his right, almost behind him. - -"Outflanked?" he queried at the top of his voice. The sergeant-major -nodded. - -At the same moment he saw a swarm of brown infantry come over the fold -of ground in front of him. Disaster followed disaster. A high-explosive -shell swallowed one of his precious guns with an awful explosion of -flame and smoke. A soot-faced man ran up and shouted to him that the -wagon-supply was all but exhausted. Only the gun-limbers remained. The -subaltern glanced at the defeated infantry surging towards them. His -jaw set hard with a fierce resolve. - -"Call up the teams," he shouted. - -The sergeant-major signalled to the hill. A moment later the limbers -were racing over the shell-swept field. The survivors of the battery -sighed with relief as they fired away their last shells. - - * * * * * - -Far off upon a height the divisional artillery commander was watching -them through his glasses. "Why isn't that battery withdrawn?" he asked -irritably. He turned to give an order, then checked himself. "No, it's -too late," he said. He continued to watch them. - - * * * * * - -The guns were limbered up in a storm of shells. The subaltern threw -himself upon a horse that came handy. The detachments waited for the -order to retire. - -"The battery will _advance_--in line!--Gallop!" he yelled. - -He spurred his horse straight for the infantry. Behind him his three -guns bumped and leaped over the inequalities of the stubble-field. -Onward they raced. They tore through the approaching infantry as -though they were mere phantoms, regardless of those that fell before -their rush. Overhead the shrapnel burst less frequently. They hurled -themselves down into a depression and up again on the rise of a little -ridge. One or two brown soldiers were lying prone on it and firing -rapidly. - -"Halt!--Action front!--At the infantry!--Point blank!" yelled the -subaltern. - -In front were the grey-uniformed soldiers, swarms of them, not a -hundred yards away, rushing on them with gleaming bayonets. Working -like madmen, the artillery-men reversed the guns, loaded, aimed, -fired. Again and again the guns spoke. The squads worked like men -doomed, anxious only to take toll for their own lives. The shells, set -to zero, burst almost at the muzzles of the guns. Their bullets tore -through the groups of infantrymen, mowed them down. They seemed to melt -away. Behind him the subaltern heard a loud cheer. The beaten infantry -were being rallied, led again to the attack. - -In front of his guns the enemy surged forward, only to be swept away. -Hesitation was manifest among them. Men turned and ran back. The -rearward movement spread. He exulted in their confusion. As his guns -fired their last rounds, a line of brown infantry rushed past them -with a mighty shout, their bayonets levelled at the charge. The grey -infantry broke and fled. - -The subaltern looked round, wiping the acrid smoke-grit from his eyes. -Behind him, down the hill-side where his battery had fought, masses of -brown infantry were advancing. The tide had turned. - - * * * * * - -Far away, the divisional artillery commander took his glasses from his -eyes. "By G--d! that chap's saved 'em!" he said. He wrote out an order -and despatched it. - - * * * * * - -The subaltern stood by his line of silent guns, watching the fight -roll away from him. He felt atrociously hungry and thirsty. His -water-bottle was empty. He felt for the biscuits in his pocket. -There was not one. He wiped his hand across his mouth and there -was biscuit-dust upon the back of it. Then he cursed in bitter -disappointment. He could not forgive himself for having eaten those -biscuits, as it were in his sleep. - -Presently an order came and he drew the remnant of his battery out of -action. - - - - -PRO PATRIA - - -In the dark of the autumn evening the rearguard drew itself wearily -through the silent village. To a column of infantrymen, dusty, -dejected, haggard, with rifles held indifferently on the shoulder, -at the trail, or tucked under the arm, succeeded a procession of -miscellaneous vehicles--ambulances, army-wagons, brick-carts, gigs, -anything that would roll on wheels it seemed. Some of these vehicles -were loaded high with goods whose nature was hidden by the bulging -tarpaulins stretched tightly over them, but the majority held only -men who sat up listlessly, swaying with every jolt of the vehicle, -dull-eyed, mournful, and silent. The faces of most of them were -partially masked by bandages that passed at varying angles across their -heads. Others nursed an arm in a sling; some were apparently undamaged. -These were the slightly hurt. Here and there in the long train, a head, -swathed like that of an antique corpse, raised itself from the depths -of a wagon and peered over the side, striking a note of suffering -which found no repercussion in the men, fatigued beyond sensibility, -who marched by the wheels. After a longer or shorter space those -heads relapsed again out of sight, sinking without murmur or gesture, -in hopeless resignation. These vehicles bore the wreckage of the -army, swept up by the retreating rearguard which cleared the road of -everything that could afford an indication to the enemy of the nature -of the force in front. - -Behind the lugubrious procession a battery moved at the walk. The -animals that drew the guns were lean and spiritless; many were lame, -and the coats of all were dull with dust and sweat. Most of the teams -were short of their proper tale of horses. The guns, limbers, and -wagons were likewise thick with dust, and where this dust was not -it could be seen that they were scored and pock-marked by shrapnel -bullets. A professional eye looking at those guns as they passed would -have remarked that the breech and muzzle covers had been removed, were -strapped to the front of the shields. They were ready for instant -action, yet many of the men who served them swayed in sleep upon their -seats on limber or wagon. The countenances of all were grimed with -dirt, channelled by dried rivulets of sweat and moisture from eyes -irritated by acrid fumes. They looked like men who had been fighting -a conflagration. They passed, guns and wagons, and after them came a -squadron of cavalrymen sitting limply upon wearied horses. Another -long column of infantry followed, and, immediately upon its heels, an -endless cavalcade of horsemen. All, infantry, convoy, artillery, and -cavalry, moved onwards steadily, without hurry and without halts, at a -pace that had evidently long ago become automatic. - -The houses between which they passed were silent, deserted, for the -most part boarded up. No face looked out of any window, no light -glimmered in any interior, no smoke came from any chimney. At the door -of the only inn a couple of cavalrymen stood by their horses, sentries -posted to deter the thirsty straggler. Some of the men in the column -looked yearningly at the houses as they passed, imagining the joys -of sleep and food; the majority plodded onwards mechanically in the -failing light. All, perhaps, seeing the village, had dallied with the -idea of bivouac. To their disappointment had succeeded a despair of -ever halting. The officers by the side of their companies urged them -forward with monotonous voices, aware themselves of the uselessness of -their efforts. The infantry was marching at its best pace. Nevertheless -as the column drew out of the village its speed spontaneously -increased. A rumour had spread along it from end to end. They had given -the enemy the slip. - -The last cavalrymen, left at the entrance of the village until the -column should have cleared it, passed along the street, turning in -their saddles to look at the empty road behind them. The sentries at -the inn mounted and trotted quickly forward to rejoin their ranks. -The last man passed out of sight. The village street seemed strangely -empty in the absence of the floods of men that had been pouring through -it, with but little interruption, for many hours. Only the rhythmic -tramp of the infantry upon the road, pulsating through the air like -the audible systole and diastole of some mighty heart, and fading with -every moment, remained like a reminiscence of the army. Presently that, -too, ceased. Silence brooded over the houses whose outlines were -rapidly blurring with the oncoming night, a silence broken only by the -melancholy ululations of an owl that ventured to scour the deserted -street. - -That owl was baulked of its stoop by a sudden human utterance in a -Cockney voice. - -"It's all right, Bill--they've gone." - -The figure of a man was dimly defined in the doorway of one of the -cottages. He turned to answer a question. - -"Yus. The 'ole bloomin' lot. Rearguard an' all." - -The figure in the doorway was joined by another from the dark interior -of the cottage, and the pair slunk cautiously into the street and -looked up and down. - -"We've done it, Sam," said the man addressed as Bill. - -"Yus," replied Sam, peering around him under a frown from heavy brows. -"Now for that public--me ole Gawd-lummy ain't 'ad nothin' in it fer a -week." - -"'Struth!" said Bill, stretching himself. "I ain't 'arf stiff wiv -standin' in that poky little cupboard." - -"Not so stiff as those poor blighters 'll be to-night," said Sam, with -a thought of his marching comrades. "Now--right wheel! March! An' -see that you've got a cartridge in yer rifle," he added in a tone of -authority. It was evident that he was the leading spirit. - -There was the metallic click of a cartridge inserted into the breech -and then both men crept furtively in the shadow of the cottages towards -the inn. The hanging sign of the house was silhouetted black against -the sky just above their heads, when Sam stopped suddenly, pointing his -rifle into the gloom. - -"'Alt! 'Oo goes there?" he cried; under his breath he blasphemed -rapidly, ferociously; the blasphemy of a man whose nerves are chaos, -his speech-centres out of control. A shadowy figure moved in the -darkness. "'Ands up--or I fire!" shouted Sam, the menace rising harshly -out of his muttered vituperation. - -A pitiful voice replied from the obscurity. Its panic expressed itself -in a thin rising inflection that became almost a squeal. - -"Don't shoot!--don't shoot!" - -"Come out into the road," commanded Sam. "Cover 'im, Bill," he added. - -The figure obeyed, was now slightly more visible against the light -reflected from the white road. - -"What are you doin' 'ere?" asked Sam. - -The voice became rapid in nervous explanation. - -"I'm lame--got lamed miles back there--I was 'urryin' to rejoin my -regiment----" - -"I _don't_ think," said Sam sternly. "You're a bloomin' deserter, -that's wot you are." - -"Oh, chuck it, Sam!" said Bill suddenly. "More the merrier! Let's get -into this bloomin' public--I'm fair parched for a drink. Come along, -matey--don't take no notice of 'im. You didn't 'arf give us a scare, -though, my word!" he added, as he moved towards the door of the inn. - -The third man, however, persisted in justifying himself in a querulous, -tearful voice. - -"I tell yer I got lamed--I ain't no deserter--I just couldn't keep -up--there's a piece of skin off my foot as big as yer 'and--I'll show -it yer if yer don't believe me----" - -"Oh, chuck it," said Sam irritably, giving him an uninviting -march-route for his foot. "'Elp us to knock this blighted door in!" - -The three of them kicked and shouldered against the inn door without -result. The locks held firm. - -"'Ere, stand clear," said Sam, grasping his rifle by the muzzle. He -swung it about his head and brought it down against the door with a -heavy crash. Bill imitated him, swinging his reversed rifle like a -sledgehammer in a manner that bespoke the ex-navvy. The third man's -efforts were swifter if less effective. The noise of their blows -sounded terribly loud in the hush of that dead village, so loud that -once or twice they paused, frightened, their ears alert for answering -sound. None came and they resumed their attack. The door commenced to -splinter and to crack upon its hinges. Collectively they threw their -whole weight against it in sudden impact. It gave way and the three of -them followed it in a heap. - -They struggled to their feet, cursing, and someone struck a match. It -was Sam. The others followed the dim illumination into the interior. -There was an exclamation of joyful surprise and then the match went -out. The exclamation was renewed as Sam struck another and lit a -hanging oil-lamp. - -"Gawd blimy if they ain't left it for us!" - -They were in a small room at the back of the bar. A long table filled -most of the space, and on that table stood a large joint of beef, -several loaves of bread, and one or two pewter tankards. A number of -plates each containing food and crossed at odd angles by knife and fork -told a story that the overturned chairs about the room corroborated. - -"Left in a blamed 'urry," said Bill, picking up one of the tankards. -"Fancy leavin' the beer!" - -The third man pushed past him eagerly and sprang at the table, clawing -at the food. He almost wept. "Two days--I ain't 'ad nuffink fer two -days, mates," he whimpered between huge mouthfuls. He went on cramming -himself with everything he could reach, uttering the while inarticulate -cries of satisfaction that sounded like sobs. - -The others were rivalled but not surpassed in this gastronomical -performance. Less excitedly, they also were eating enormously. For -long minutes the three men sat at the table under the hanging lamp -without uttering a word. They fed like famished animals at a trough. -As their hunger grew less fierce, however, the two comrades looked -up and exchanged appraising glances with their new companion. He was -a little fellow, with a cunning face and an ill-shaped head that -needed no criminologist to class it. Petty rogue was stamped on him. -The metal letters and number on the shoulder-strap of his dirty and -ragged uniform showed that he, like themselves, belonged to a Cockney -battalion. The two comrades were burly fellows of the navvy type, -full-bodied, full-faced, narrow in the brows, powerful in the arms. -Distress, the utter lack of work, had probably forced them into one of -the new regiments. The little man, with equal probability, had enlisted -for similar reasons and had found escape not so easy as he expected. - -At last, replete, they desisted from their orgy of victuals. Bill -stretched his legs and looked good-humouredly at his comrade. - -"This ain't better than the army, I don't think!" he opined, qualifying -the army by an epithet which in its circumstances was not inappropriate. - -"Curse the army!" replied Sam, frowning from under his heavy sandy -brows. He shivered with the commencement of digestion. "Light the fire, -Bill," he commanded brutally. "And you," he added, turning to the -little man, "go an' get some more beer--an' don't drink any or I'll -smash your bloomin' 'ead in!" - -Bill, always in awe of his friend, had already commenced to obey, but -the little man was not yet broken to Sam's discipline. - -"'Ere!--'Oo are you orderin' about?" he expostulated in his thin, -aggrieved voice. Then he dodged quickly to escape a flying tankard. -With a frightened glance at the burly tyrant, he hastened out, jug in -hand. - -When he returned, he deposited several packets of tobacco on the table -and pushed them towards Sam. "Thought per'aps you'd be wantin' some, -mate," he said humbly. "There's a 'ole barrel o' beer in the bar. If -'e'd 'elp me, I could get it in 'ere." - -"Go and 'elp 'im, Bill," ordered Sam, pocketing the tobacco. - -The two men rolled in the barrel of beer and hoisted it onto the table. -Then, with full tankards handy and their pipes smoking like factory -chimneys, the trio pulled their chairs up to the fire. - -"Curse the army, I say!" said Sam in a challenging voice, apropos of -nothing. He had been staring moodily at the crackling logs. "I want to -get back to my wife an' kids." - -"'Ear,'ear!" said Bill, raising his tankard before he drained it. -"Curse the----army!" - -"Chins!" said the little man. The proposal was drunk unanimously. - -"I'm fed up with it," continued Sam, still in his mood of heavy -reflection, "abso-bloomin'-lutely fed up! Marchin' 'ere, marchin' -there, march all day, march all night; w'en you do stop, nothin' to -eat; march back w'ere you come from, then right about face and march -ag'in till you don't know w'ere you are. I joined the bloomin' army to -fight, not to go on a blighted walkin'-tour!" - -"Fight!" chimed in the little man. "You ought to 'a' been wiv us the -other day! Talk about fightin'! Our company fought three thousand on -'em for hours an' hours--all alone. We killed 'undreds of 'em, me -an' about a dozen others, till we 'ad to retreat. That's wot I calls -fightin'!" - -"Is it?" sneered Sam. "You wos one o' that picket guard wot run away -from a cow, you mean. Fightin'! That ain't fightin'--bein' shot at -by swine you can't see. I ain't 'ad a sight o' one on 'em yet, not -one--an' yesterday forty men of our company was killed w'ere we laid in -a 'tater-field. Ain't that so, Bill?" - -"Forty-two," corrected Bill, "an' you couldn't find some of 'em after -the shell 'ad 'it 'em." - -"That's it," continued Sam, "shells! Shells plumpin' down and chokin' -yer, shells over'ead as if the sky was breakin' in and droppin' down -in bullets. Shells! That's wot I can't stand--bein' 'it on the back of -the 'ead w'en you're lyin' down an' takin' cover accordin' to orders. -It fair got on my nerves--all day, shells, shells, shells, an' not a -mouthful to eat, an' then, at the end, right about face, quick march, -we're beat. Beat! We'll see if we get beat! No,--it's just bloomin' -silly--they march us orf our feet for a week just to make us a target -for their damn artillery and then tell us we're licked and 'ave got -to march back double-quick. I'm fed up wiv it. I've chucked the blank -army. Chucked it, d'yer 'ear?" he turned savagely on the little man. - -"You're right, mate," said the little man, standing up to refill his -tankard at the barrel. "So 've I. W'y should we fight? That's wot I -arsks yer. We're the pore workin'-man--we ain't got no property," -he developed the manner of a street-corner orator, and thumped his -tankard on the table. "We ain't got no stake in the country. Let -them as 'as got a stake in the country fight for it, says I. Not get -a pore _h_onest workin'-man to go an' do it for 'em. 'Tain't right, -mates. That's w'y I chucked the bloomin' army, I don't mind tellin' -yer--because I felt it wasn't right! I'm a _h_onest workin'-man an' I -don't believe in war." - -"'Ear, 'ear," said Bill sleepily. - -"Chuck it!" commented Sam unsympathetically, regarding the hands of the -orator. "You a workin'-man! You ain't never done a day's work in yer -life, unless you calls work pickin' pockets at the races. I don't want -no Socialism--an' I don't want no war, neither. I wants to get back to -my missus an' the kids an' a regular job." - -"'Ear, 'ear," said Bill. "Wot price the Ole Kent Road on a Saturday -night, Sam?" - -"That's wot I was thinkin'. Is to-night Saturday, Bill?" - -"Cursed if I know," was the reply. "I've lost count." - -Sam sat gloomily looking into the fire. In his brain was a vision of -the great thoroughfare, lined with naphtha flares, thronged with people -who clustered about the stalls, here and there the blaze of lights upon -the white-and-gold facade of a picture-palace, the yellowish radiance -of a public-house. He visualised it now, distant from it, as the -rustic looks back to his village, sentimentally. There the incidents, -commonplace enough, sordid even, which had made his life something -individual to himself, had linked themselves one by one. - -"Bill," he said huskily, "if I saw those blank foreigners marchin' up -the Ole Kent Road, I'd go for 'em--if there wasn't a man to 'elp me." - -"'Ear, 'ear!" said Bill. "So would I." - -"I've got a bit o' skirt meself wot lives just off the Ole Kent Road," -said the third man in a tone of reminiscence. "Let's 'ave some more -beer. I say," he remarked suddenly, having refilled his mug, "if the -army comes back it'll be a fair cop for us, won't it?" - -"I ain't goin' back," said Sam sturdily, still gazing into the fire. -"I'm fed up--and w'en I'm fed up I'm fed up." - -Bill had wakened at the suggestion. - -"But s'pose they come back, Sam? Wot'll we do?" - -The third man interposed. - -"'Tain't wot we'll do. It's wot they'll do. They'll shoot us, by -Gawd they will!" Panic came into his sharp little white face. He was -desperately in earnest. "They'll shoot every man of us!" - -"_They_ won't come back," said Sam. - -"Ho! Won't they? And 'aven't they countermarched before? W'y--I 'eard -an officer say only this afternoon that they'd be 'avin' another go at -'em to-morrow." - -"Did yer, really?" asked Bill, now thoroughly frightened. - -"'Strue as I stand 'ere!--'We'll march back quick an' catch 'em,' 'e -said," the little man invented rapidly. "An officer in the cavalry, it -was. Staff-officer, shudn't wonder." - -"Oh, my Gawd!" cried Bill, his beer-muddled faculties dispersing before -a gale of fear. "'Ere, Sam--I'm orf! Come on! You brought me into this, -yer know--I didn't want to desert. I told yer so, lots o' times--an' -now!--Come on!--I ain't goin' to stop 'ere to get shot!" - -"'Arf a mo!" said the little man. "'Tain't no good runnin' orf in that -uniform. Wot we've got to do is to find some togs. Then if they comes -back we're just _h_onest rustics, see?" - -Sam stood up. The sudden panic of his companions had communicated -itself to his slower brain. He also trembled at the prospect of -recapture. - -"That's the ticket, mate. You've got it. You're a smart little cove. -Wot's yer name?" This, he implied, was condescension. - -"Hoswald--Hoswald Smiff--my farver was a toff, a flash cove, 'e was. -Come on, mates--there's sure to be some togs upstairs--shudn't wonder -if they've left some dibs be'ind 'em, too." - -"They left the beer, anyway," said Bill. His tone implied that people -who left beer would leave anything. - -Rather unsteadily, the trio ascended the steep and narrow stairs of the -inn. Sam carried a lighted candle which Oswald Smith had found in the -kitchen. A disappointment awaited them. In every room the drawers stood -open, empty, their contents carried off. The trio swore in harmony -and in fugues. They cursed with the pointless fluency of drunken men -baulked of an intention. Then they lurched downstairs again. - -"Wot'll we do now?" asked Bill, his face pale with fright. "They'll be -on us before morning, sure!" - -"Certain!" said Oswald. - -"I ain't goin' back," said Sam doggedly. "I'm fed up." He stood and -tried to think, his mind harassed by the necessity for a disguise -which had been suggested to it. - -Bill drank deeply from his tankard and, in the middle of the draught, -was visited by a brilliant idea. - -"I know," he cried. "Let's cut the letters orf our uniforms. They won't -be able to tell w'ere we come from an' we can make up some yarn--say we -found 'em--'ad our own togs pinched by the soldiers." - -The others seized on the suggestion. To their alcoholised brains the -plan seemed more than feasible; it was certain of success. Feverishly -and clumsily they ripped the regimental letters from each other's -uniforms and cast them into the fire. The identification labels, -everything which could point to their connection with the army, -followed. They stood, anonymous it seemed to them, in their stripped -khaki. - -"That's done wiv," said Sam, with a heavy sigh. "Let's 'ave some more -beer." - -Joyous now, their minds relieved of the fear of recapture, the trio -refilled their tankards and their pipes. They settled themselves again. - -"I say, mates," said Oswald, "ever 'eard the yarn of the bloke -'oo----?" He told the story and, ere the noisy laughter which greeted -the end had died away, began another. He revealed himself as a fellow -of rare social qualities. His repertory of anecdotes, many of them -relating shady episodes of his own career, was inexhaustible. On his -own confession he was a sharper or worse; the humour of his experiences -the eternal humour of the sharp-witted clown and the dull policeman. -He diversified his entertainment with comic songs rendered with more -verve than elegance. Bill obliged with others of a sentimental nature. -They drank beer and more beer. They bellowed out choruses whose rhythm -was marked by the heavy beating of tankards upon the table and laughed -and shouted as though they sat at a "free-and-easy" in the Old Kent -Road. The fire blazed up the chimney, fed by chairs demolished one -after another. Such merry men as they could not condescend to the -fetching of fuel. The room was thick with tobacco-smoke. On the floor -little lakes of beer communicated by a rivulet whose source was the -spigot of the barrel. The three men gave themselves up to a roaring -orgy. They forgot entirely the army which was marching away from them, -the other army which approached. - -At last, in an atmosphere heavy with debauch, they slumbered, three -worthless soldiers of whom any army was well rid. - - * * * * * - -Sam was awakened from a muddled dream of a tenement near the Old Kent -Road by a rough hand upon his shoulder and the sound of a peremptory -voice. - -"All-ri', Bill," he murmured, "revalley 'asn't sounded yet." Then he -opened his eyes, tried to orientate himself in his surroundings. It -was morning. He was in an unfamiliar room and the room was filled with -unfamiliar men, dressed in a strange uniform. His shoulder was again -roughly shaken. The voice, uttering words foreign to him, but whose -meaning was not in doubt, spoke again. A strange stern face was thrust -close to his. Sam got on his feet, still bewildered. Immediately he -felt his arm firmly grasped. His companions were undergoing similar -treatment. At the sight of them, the incidents of the previous night -returned to his memory. Recapture? He was reassured by the foreign -incomprehensible language about him. He would give himself up -comfortable as a prisoner. His dangers were over. - -Oswald was in the grasp of two stalwart captors, the frightened eyes -in his cunning little face looking up wildly into their unemotional -countenances. Bill, who had slid with his head under a chair in the -stupor which followed their orgy, was less easy to awaken. The strange -soldiers kicked him liberally, eliciting sleepy curses but scarce a -movement. - -Sam could not repress a grin; Bill's morning recall to the sorrows of -this waking world was usually made in this manner. - -Then he was pushed on by a firm, unrelenting hand which reminded him -vividly of that of a policeman. As he was propelled through the door he -had a glimpse of Bill being hoisted bodily on to his feet by several of -the strange soldiers. Behind him, Oswald was asking imploring questions -in his thin expostulating voice. They received no reply. The trio were -pushed swiftly, inexorably, into the street. - -Outside in the bright sunshine they perceived that the village was -full of cavalrymen garbed in an unfamiliar uniform. Their position -was obvious. They had been captured by the enemy's advance-guard. -Just without the door they were halted and the danger of any movement -was explained to them in dumb show by a soldier who allowed them a -disconcerting view down the muzzle of a rifle. - -In front of the inn was a rustic bench and table, occupied at the -moment by a big, fair-moustached man who bent over a map. Around him -a group of officers stood waiting in respectful attitudes. Presently -the fair-moustached man looked up and said a few words to one of -the officers. He had a good-humoured, smiling face, that man. The -trio contemplated it anxiously and drew some comfort from its jovial -appearance. - -Sam turned to his companions. - -"Mates," he said huskily, "we're copped. But mind, we don't know -nuffink. We ain't goin' to give the boys away, are we?" - -"No, Sam," replied Bill, even more huskily. "Wot'll they do to us, -d'yer think?" - -"Nuffink," was the answer. "We're soldiers--they don't shoot prisoners." - -Oswald drew a long breath of relief at this. Sam looked at him sharply. - -"Mind--not a word, you little skunk--or I'll bash yer 'ead in." - -"All right, mate," said Oswald. "I ain't goin' to peach." - -The good-humoured officer on the bench spoke a couple of sharp words. -Immediately the prisoners were pushed in front of him. A pair of very -blue eyes looked over them, seemed to smile at them, they thought and -hoped. - -"What are you?" he asked sharply in English. - -"Soldiers, sir," replied Sam quickly. Not very confident of the -discretion of his companions, he was anxious to make himself the -spokesman of the party. - -"Indeed? What corps?" - -The blue eyes smiled on Sam. He felt them dangerously fascinating. -It was with an effort that he kept himself from a reply and remained -silent. His dull faculties were desperately on the defensive. - -"What corps?" - -No answer. - -The officer drew out a heavy gold watch. He smiled outright at them. - -"I give you five minutes. If you do not reply, you will be shot against -that wall." - -"We're soldiers--prisoners of war, sir," said Sam. "You can't shoot -prisoners of war." - -"Indeed!" The blue eyes above the fair moustache looked innocently -amused. "You call yourselves soldiers--to what corps do you belong? To -what regiment? Where are your shoulder-straps?" He got angry suddenly. -"Tell me at once what regiments--what time they passed here, or you go -against that wall!" - -Sam set his teeth and went pale. The consequences of their anonymity -became plain to him. He met the eyes of the quick-witted little Cockney -rogue. The cunning, ill-shaped face was lit with a feverish excitement. - -"Don't yer see, mate?" he whispered eagerly. "Our chaps 'ave give 'em -the slip. 'E wants to find out wot corps passed through 'ere----" - -"Silence!--Answer, you!" - -The fascinating blue eyes looked at Sam, almost mesmerised him. - -"We're soldiers--prisoners o' war," he repeated doggedly. - -"Soldiers! Soldiers without regiments--without corps! Prove it then, my -man. Quick! I have no time to waste. Where are your shoulder-straps? -Your identification papers?" - -The trio remained silent. The officer adopted a more cajoling tone. - -"Come, come, my man. You don't want to throw your lives away on a -trifle. I am willing to treat you as prisoners of war if you prove to -me that you are soldiers. Tell me your regiments." - -The trio stood in stubborn silence, the ex-navvies rather sheepish, the -Cockney rogue watching the questioner with quick and knowing eyes. "No? -Then you are spies." He turned to his men and uttered a brief order, -pointing to Sam. - -On the instant the ex-navvy found himself pushed with his back against -the wall, looking into a grim row of rifle-barrels. The squad that -menaced him stood equably waiting the word of command. The officer -rose, walked across to him and smiled in his face. Once more he drew -out his watch. - -"One minute," he said pleasantly. "One minute to prove that you are a -soldier and no spy." - -Sam stood as erect as suddenly enfeebled knees would let him. He felt -the bricks of the wall pushing against his back in the instinctive -retreat of his body from the imminent danger. His eyes were fixed on -the officer who stood calmly regarding his watch. He felt sick and -dizzy and very cold. He shivered as in a mantle of ice. His mouth went -dry. The panic-stricken part of his brain began an attempt to count the -seconds without any revolt at the stubborn decision of his directing -self. One, two, three--twenty--thirty--the minute seemed endlessly -long. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, striving -desperately to bring himself to speech in the fraction of time which -remained to him. He succeeded. - -His voice came raucously, an agonised appeal. - -"Mates!--Remember--the Ole Kent Road!" - -The officer uttered a sharp sound and the windows shook with the loud -report of the rifles. In a thin haze of smoke, the prisoners saw Sam -lurch forward, his arms outstretched, swaying on his toes for one -ghastly moment ere he pitched. - -The officer calmly replaced his watch and brushed past Oswald. He -seized Bill by the arm. - -"You!" he said, with that sudden and disconcerting anger of his. "Will -you speak?" - -Bill stood sheepishly staring at him. - -"The Ole Kent Road--'Ome!" he mumbled to himself. Relentless hands -pushed him against the wall. At his feet lay Sam, a dark pool forming -under him. - -"Will you speak?" vociferated the officer. - -"'Ome," mumbled Bill. "'Ome!--Oh, Gawd!" - -He ignored the demand--seemed not to hear it. - -The officer, exasperated, stamped upon the gravel. Again he uttered the -sharp order, again the windows shook. Bill slid down the wall with his -head on his breast. - -The officer turned to the survivor, the petty rogue, nurtured -fatherless in a London slum. "Now, my man," he said cheerfully. "You -see I am not to be trifled with. Come--tell me what corps passed -through here yesterday." He added with a smile of contempt, "These -scruples are absurd in a deserter." - -A cunning grin came over Oswald's face. - -"Yah!" he said. "Deserter, am I? So I am, but I ain't goin' to peach -on my pals. They've give yer the slip right enough--an' yer knows it. -Yah!" He finished with an ugly grimace. - -A moment later, he also stood with his back to the wall. - -"Yah!" he cried, and grinned as at some private joke. - -The rifles spoke and he spun and fell. In his pocket was the officer's -gold watch. - -At the foot of a bullet-marked wall lay three worthless soldiers. Far -away, a beaten army, lost for the nonce in the fog of war, rallied -itself without molestation for another struggle. - - - - -NERVES! - - -A heavy north-east gale was setting with a flowing tide into the River -Ems. Out at sea dark grey rainclouds blew raggedly over a background -but little lighter in colour. The distant sea stretched away, cheerless -and leaden, to a horizon that was whelmed in a grey mist where the -elements met, indistinguishable. The nearer waters broke in a confused -turmoil of white-caps on either hand. A heavy swell rolled dark between -these shoals. Up the estuary a blur of dirty brown smoke, rising from -behind a line of bleak sand-dunes, smudged the sagging sky. It rose -from the little town of Emden, round the corner. A couple of tall -posts, wireless "aerials," stood out black against the smoke. - -In the river, just off the low sandy point, lay a long, four-funnelled -cruiser. In the heavy rain-squalls which swallowed her every few -minutes she looked like a thing of mist, so well did the grey of her -hull and superstructure blend with the grey of sea and sky. She pitched -slowly and gently at the taut-stretched cables of her bow anchors, her -nose pointed seawards towards the incoming tide. From her steam-pipes -the white vapour which issued, deafeningly stridulant, was torn -violently away in horizontal pennons. At her peak a small flag blew out -stiffly. At her stern, the ensign--black rectangular cross on white, -centred with the crowned eagle and quartered with a small black cross -upon the national colours, black, white and red--flattened itself out -in the wind with loud claps as the gale half-released it for a second -and then seized upon it again. - -To and fro upon her navigating bridge the oilskin-clad officer of the -watch paced restlessly. Under his sou'-wester, anxious, strained eyes -peered from a haggard face whose weather-beaten brow was paled to an -unhealthy yellow. Up and down he went, but never for a moment did he -take those anxious eyes from the dark channel ahead of the ship's bows. -The look-outs, posted at each end of the bridge close behind the canvas -"dodger," gazed with equal fixity towards the sea. On their faces the -same tension, the same evidence of sleepless nights, was visible. -Behind them, in a wheelhouse from which the glass panels had been -removed, stood a couple of quartermasters. Stiffly motionless behind -the steering telemotor they conversed in low nervous voices. The hands -of one of them, a giant of a man, shook continuously as he held them -pendent against his thighs. - -A blue-uniformed officer with gold bands across his cuffs appeared upon -the bridge and approached the lieutenant. They saluted each other with -a friendly nod after the formal fingers to the brow. - -"Any orders yet, Herr Leutnant?" asked the new-comer. He was a heavily -built man with a bluish nose that bent birdlike from between protruding -eyes. He worried continually with thumb and finger at a ragged grey -moustache. He followed the lieutenant to a position in the centre of -the bridge. - -"We start directly," said the navigating lieutenant in a weary voice. -"When the Herr Kapitaen returns." - -Both stared silently down at the roof of the conning-tower just below -them, and at the two long guns which emerged from the turret in front -of it. The open manhole in the conning-tower vitalised the familiar -objects with a touch of grim expectation. - -"Ach!" said the engineer at last gloomily. "It is perhaps better--I -cannot sleep here--I cannot read." - -"Sleep!" echoed the lieutenant. "I have not slept for a week. I see -always those cursed destroyers slipping through the mist--I see them -when I close my eyes--I see them when I am on duty--I know no longer -whether I see them or not--and worse than the destroyers----" he broke -off suddenly. - -"Ach, ja," said the engineer, "you have had a bad time--but you can at -least see the danger coming--sometimes, down there, I begin to imagine -things--I have not let myself imagine, Herr Leutnant--I have read the -sublime words of Zarathustra--I could always read them--but now I can, -no longer. How long have we been here, Bielefeld?" he finished abruptly. - -"Four days." - -"Ach so! I thought it was a week--what days!" - -"Jawohl!" - -The two men fell silent again, staring at the sea. Once the lieutenant -made a quick movement of alarm, whipped out his binoculars, and gazed -into the grey distance. He put them back after some minutes without a -word. On the whole ship was no other sound than the strident rasp of -the escaping steam and the drone of the gale through the wind-tautened -stays. - -The engineer spoke again. - -"What does Borkum say?" - -"Enemy disappeared into the offing--could not keep their stations in -this weather." - -"It is our chance, then." - -"Yes--perhaps." - -"You fear----?" - -"Everything--in this rat-trap. The picket-boats are all in. If only we -could start!" - -"Jawohl--anything is better than this--besides, the movement of the -engines is soothing--this stillness day after day is unnerving. If only -we had some good Welsh coal! This soft stuff! One burns and burns and -gets no heat!" - -"And advertise ourselves to every cursed scout in the North Sea!" - -A sailor, heavy in oilskins, drew up and saluted. - -"The Herr Kapitaen is coming, Herr Leutnant." - -The engineer disappeared. His friend went to the starboard rail of the -bridge and looked over. A motor-boat was approaching in a smother of -flying spray. - -A boatswain's whistle shrilled loudly. A minute later the captain came -up the ladder onto the bridge, shaking the water from his oilskins like -a wet dog and dabbing at his square reddish beard with a handkerchief. -The lieutenant saluted, searching his commander's face for a hint of -the orders he bore. The captain's eyes were hard, the eyes of a man who -had been contemplating desperate possibilities. His bluish lips cut in -a thin straight line across his beard. He spoke curtly. - -"Get the starboard anchor up. Tell the Herr Stabs-Ingenieur I wish to -speak to him." - -He went heavily into the wheelhouse and bent over the chart. Outside, -the lieutenant blew his whistle and shouted an order. An instant -later the shrill piping of the boatswain repeated the call. There was -a scurry of men along the deck towards the bows and the clank of a -capstan hauling in the heavy chain. - -The staff-engineer stood in conversation with the captain. In -the low murmur of their voices certain words were emphasised by -repetition--"Knots--this coal--revolutions--coal." The captain nodded. - -"Do your best," he said briefly. - -"We make a dash for it?" queried the engineer. Still he worried at his -ragged moustache and the protruding eyes above his beaklike nose moved -with little quick stares like a frightened bird. - -The captain smiled grimly. - -"We rejoin the fleet--while we can--those are the orders. We will do -our best and God be with us--do you find that maxim in Zarathustra, -Herr Wollenmetz?" - -The engineer shrugged his shoulders. - -"Ach! I know no longer, Herr Kapitaen--anything is better than -this--anything!" - -"We start at once," said the captain and went out onto the bridge -without more words. The ship's bugler saluted and stood stiffly to -attention as he emerged. - -"Battle stations!" said the captain. - -The howl of the gale in the rigging was lost in the sternly joyous -run of brazen notes, taken up and repeated all over the vessel. For a -minute or two the erstwhile deserted decks swarmed with hurrying men. -They disappeared rapidly into turrets, fighting-tops, fire-control -stations or stood, alert, behind the unprotected anti-torpedo guns. - -There was a buzz of excited voices which would not easily be hushed. -At last the never-diminished tension of four long days of inaction was -broken. They were going to move, to do something. No longer were they -to lie there, waiting, waiting, while perhaps at any minute destruction -was creeping stealthily towards them under the surface of the water. -They forgot the wearing vigils of the previous weeks at sea, the -unrelieved strain of watching the horizon for a grey spot in daytime -or a blur closer at hand in the obscurity of the night. They forgot -the awful minutes which dragged out, heavy with their lives, as they -approached an unknown ship, forgot the paralysing uncertainty when the -wireless began on its mysterious message, reporting her. They forgot -the night alarms, the perpetual dodging of the hostile cruisers, the -chases and the escapes and the last fierce pursuit, which had driven -them, all but out of coal, behind the shelter of Borkum Island. The -memory of these things was blotted out by the nerve-sapping suspense -of the past four days, while they waited for a chance to elude the -hostile cruisers watching for them in the offing. Now they experienced -the gladness of a release as from an untangible but none the less -close prison. Nevertheless, all of this emotional and mental strain -was marked in eyes dark-rimmed and faces that had grown thinner. The -alacrity of their movements now was not the alacrity of men who leap, -calm-souled and confident, to test their strength in a crisis; it was -the fussiness of neurotics who are glad to translate their nerve force -into physical action as an escape from the barren travail of their -brains. - -Volumes of black smoke rolled heavily from the four funnels of the -cruiser, were blown rapidly by the gale in one thick all-obliterating -mist towards the low shores. An engine-room telegraph clanged harshly -while the port anchor, dripping black mud, came slowly up to the -hawse-hole. Again the telegraph clanged. There was a flurry in the -water astern, and the long grey cruiser commenced to move along the -dark fairway into the stormy grey of the autumn afternoon. - -Quickly she got into her stride. On the port bow the island of Borkum -was beginning to loom up just distinguishable through the driving -scud. The wireless was talking with it. Borkum reported with steady -regularity: "No enemy in sight." The cruiser hurried down the eastern -branch of the Ems, meeting a heavy swell that rolled darkly towards -her to be divided into two thin translucent curtains of water poised -like wings on either side of her bows. The shoals to port and starboard -glimmered away into the distance, wide stretches of running, leaping, -jostling white-caps. The water under their lee showed an ugly, dirty -yellow that contrasted with the black waves of the channel. On the -bridge the navigating lieutenant still peered anxiously into the veiled -horizon. Every now and then he glanced back at the welter of black -smoke issuing from their funnels and muttered fluent curses that were -the perverted expression of the prayer in his heart. Behind him stood -the captain and the commander, conversing in the intervals of raising -their binoculars to their eyes. - -At every minute a message from the wireless room was brought to the -captain. Borkum was still talking. Suddenly the tenor of its messages -changed. "Two British cruisers passing the minefield in the Western -Ems." A moment later Emden reported three submarines at the fork of -the channel behind. The captain smiled grimly. He could not now go -back, but apparently he had given his warders the slip. He went to -the engine-room telephone and spoke a few words to the chief. In -answer the masses of black smoke from the funnels rolled out even -more densely than before. The curtains of flying water at the bows -rose a little higher and remained at the elevation. Borkum announced: -"Mines evidently swept or damaged--cruisers untouched." In fact, in -slight lulls of the gale, slow dull booms were audible to leeward. The -batteries on the island were firing. The captain turned and laughed -with the commander. The situation could not be more favourable. They -had as good as escaped. - -A few long minutes and they had reached the open sea. Borkum was a -grey blur on their port quarter, the land to the east of them passed -into invisibility. Here they felt the full force of the gale. The -cruiser nosed into great waves that leaped green above the bows and -fell with a heavy thud upon the deck. She endeavoured to combine a -steady roll with violent pitching, and the officers on the bridge -clutched at the rail with one hand while with the other they pressed -their glasses hard against their eyes. The veils of driving mist which -swept continuously across the waters might hide a menace that would -loom up at any instant as destruction. Suddenly a telephone bell rang -in the wheelhouse behind them. A man ran out, saluted and reported: - -"Submarine right ahead--about 1000 metres." - -The message came from an observing station on the foremast. The three -officers on the bridge searched the sea in front of them with their -binoculars. Yes! No! Yes! The navigating lieutenant saw a flitting -patch of foam on the dark sea, a splash in the air as a wave lifted. -He recognised it instantly as a periscope cutting through the water, -coming straight towards them. They must shoot--shoot at once! He turned -to his superiors. The captain had already shouted one order, was now -yelling instructions to the men at the port anti-torpedo guns. The -cruiser turned slightly to starboard. Onward drove the patch of foam, -aiming apparently at their side. The lieutenant felt his left hand -hurt him--it was the intensity of his nervous grip upon the rail. -Behind him he heard a sudden order, followed instantly by the sharp, -splitting report of the light guns. At the same moment the circle of -a conning-tower broke the surface of the sea, followed by a glistening -whale-back. As it emerged he saw it veiled in a sheet of flame, a film -of smoke. He had a glimpse of a great hole in the whale-back and then -the submarine dived nose foremost, kicking up her stern in the air as -she went. For one awful, ghastly second the lieutenant had a view of -the large initial in her conning-tower. It was U--Unterseeboot!--They -had sunk one of their own submarines! - -He turned to see the face of his captain fixed in an expression of -horror. Everyone on the bridge was trembling. They had lost command -over themselves, and they knew it. No one spoke. With a fierce effort -of will the lieutenant pressed his glasses to his eyes, scanned -the horizon. What was that? He saw a dark spot rising and falling, -circling against the grey sky like a black gull wheeling in the gale. -It was a seaplane, daringly reconnoitring even in this weather. It -was discovery. Borkum confirmed the fear. "Cruisers turning back to -sea--difficult to range in this weather." - -The guns' crews at the anti-torpedo armament had also seen the -aeroplane. A shot cracked out, automatically, without orders. The -captain, losing all control over his nerves after the last shock, -ran along the bridge to the port rail and excitedly ordered them to -continue. "Fire!" he shouted. "Fire! A hundred marks to the crew that -brings it down!" His face worked with an insane hatred, his voice was -the voice of a man out of himself. It seemed that he wished to revenge -his terrible mistake upon the aeroplane. Crack! Crack! Crack! went the -guns, while the men behind the rubber shoulder-pieces swore violent -oaths. The firing had continued for a couple of minutes or more when -the telephone bell rang again. - -"The lieutenant in the observing station wishes to know what you are -firing at, Herr Kapitaen!" - -The captain was about to discharge a volley of oaths upon the man when -a sharp cry from the commander stopped him. The captain looked again -through his glasses. It was suddenly obvious to everybody that the -aeroplane was no aeroplane but in actual fact a wheeling gull. - -"Cease fire, you--(objurgatory)--fools!" yelled the captain. In a -nervous rage he bit furiously at the red beard below his lip. "Tell the -Herr Leutnant Feldmann to keep a better look out!" he said savagely to -the messenger. - -Eight bells sounded. The navigating lieutenant was relieved. He -descended from the bridge and stood for a moment in a warm spot in -the lee of the forward funnel, trying to achieve a yawn that kept -opening his mouth without filling his lungs. His blood, drugged with -fatigue-toxins, was in urgent need of more oxygen, but his overtaxed -nerves failed to synchronise the action of the muscles. His eyes burned -in his head. He stumbled down the companionway, rubbing at them, and -took off his dripping oilskins outside the wardroom door. His servant -appeared and was ordered to bring him a stiff tumbler of brandy. Then -he entered the empty wardroom and flung himself full length upon -a sofa. He tried to shut his eyes, but found himself obstinately -staring wide awake at a paint-blister on the bulkhead. Disconnected -thoughts--visions, rather, of craft of various types driving through -the gale passed through his brain. Especially the black dot of the -seaplane which was no seaplane danced before his eyes, maddening him -with its refusal to be banished. Behind a door in his consciousness -was the horror of the sunk submarine--he fought hard to keep that door -closed, and caught himself staring into it in intervals of relaxed -vigilance. He could not sleep, try as he would. Even the strong spirits -failed to narcotise him. If anything they spurred his harassed brain -into greater activity. He fretted for a drowsiness that would not come. -At last, with a curse, he rose and walked out of the wardroom. - -Outside he stood for a moment, hesitating, craving for companionship -like a sick man who lies awake at night. He ran over the list of his -comrades at their battle stations. Then he made his way down to the -engine-room. - -A stifling atmosphere, hot, damp and thick with the smell of oil, -assailed him as he descended the steep iron ladder. The sweat broke -out on his brow as he passed along a gloomy narrow corridor, just wide -enough for a man, between packed boiler-tubes ranged on both sides to -the roof like bottles in a wine merchant's vault. He emerged finally -into a large space, brilliant with electric light. On a platform at one -end stood the staff-engineer with some of his assistants, surrounded -by a formidable array of indicator-dials, telegraphs, telephones, -speaking-tubes, and other fittings of whose use he had but a vague -idea. The engineer still worried at his little grey moustache as he -gazed below him to where the turbines hummed in their casings. It was -comparatively quiet down here. Only a few men were visible, but the -lieutenant knew that a hundred or so were labouring fiercely in the -bowels of this mass of mechanism which gave the ship her life. From -a manhole at the other end of the engine-room a couple of men were -drawing out what seemed to be a corpse, its naked torso black as with -an explosion. It was a stoker who had collapsed. The staff-engineer -frowned as the limp body was carried off to the sick bay. He turned and -snarled irritably at the question of the lieutenant. - -"250 revolutions and not a turn more can we get out of this -Gott-verfluchte coal. That is the tenth man in the last quarter of an -hour. There's no use in worrying us. We can do no more. Go and tell -that to the Herr Kapitaen and leave us to our work." - -"It seems clear in front, but there is a couple of cruisers somewhere -behind," observed the lieutenant in a placatory voice. - -"I don't care if Hell's in front of us and the Devil himself behind!" -roared the engineer, losing self-control in the exasperation of his -nerves. "We should at least get something that would give some heat -there. _Gott sei dank!_ Do you know how many tons of this muck we are -burning per hour?" he finished savagely. - -The lieutenant waited for the answer. - -"Thirty tons per hour--and we are only getting 250 revolutions--go and -tell that to the Herr Kapitaen!" - -The lieutenant's own irritation was inflamed by this display of temper. - -"We didn't supply the coal----" - -The engineer overwhelmed him with a roar of curses, and finished with -an angry order to leave his engine-room. His bulging, birdlike eyes -glared with an insane hatred. - -The lieutenant returned a bitter retort that had no justification in -fact and climbed up the ladders to the deck. There he stood swaying -for a moment or two, chilled to the bone by the change in temperature, -although he was on the lee side of the superstructure. Raindrops -splashed heavily upon him from above. The ship was plunging and rolling -more than ever, and he noticed the motion after the comparative quiet -below. The gale had evidently freshened. He shivered with cold and -half-turned to go below again. Then he changed his mind and stumbled -forward, slipping at every step on the wet, unstable deck. - -In the forward turret was his friend Gunnery Lieutenant Arenschmidt. -He opened the steel door and entered. The narrow metal box into which -the breeches of two 8.2 guns protruded was lit by electric lamps -behind wire guards. It was filled with the crews of the two guns, -seated comfortably on the floor with their backs against the walls. In -the shell-bins at the top of the ammunition-hoists a projectile lay -ready for each gun. The gunnery lieutenant rose as his friend entered -and held out his hand with a smile. He was a jolly young man, this -lieutenant, whose manly beauty, marred though it was by a student -sabre-cut, fluttered many a female heart. He spoke now with all his -usual boisterous good-humour. - -"Hallo, Bielefeld! Glad to see you! Giving them the slip after all?" - -Despite the buoyancy of his tone the navigating-lieutenant noticed that -his lips trembled and that his eyes were deadly serious. - -Ere any reply was possible, a bell rang sharply. The gunnery -lieutenant jumped away from his friend. The indicators from the -forward fire-control station marked a direction, an elevation and -a range. The navigating lieutenant stood back away from the alert -groups behind the breeches. He felt the floor turning with him while -the ship lurched heavily. A moment later he heard a muffled thud and -everything shook. The starboard gun had been fired. He heard the hiss -of the air-blast clearing the fumes from the firing-chamber, and then -the breech was swung open. The hydraulic chain-rammer, jointed like a -foot-rule, pushed another shell into place, followed by its charges. -The hoists rattled as another projectile came up in readiness. The -bell rang again. The crew at the port gun were suddenly busy. There -was another shock. What was happening? What were they firing at? The -navigating-lieutenant dashed out of the turret, closing the door -quickly behind him. - -As he ran up the ladder to the bridge, he heard a roar in the air, and -a moment later a great sheet of flame leaped up just in front of the -forward funnel with a colossal detonation. The blast of the explosion -flung him to the deck. He picked himself up, bruised, dazed, but -uninjured, and looked for the enemy. The turret had swung its two guns -over to starboard, and as he followed their direction they discharged -with a couple of almost simultaneous reports. He steadied himself and -gazed hard into the distance. In the mist on the horizon he thought -he distinguished a long, low band of brownish smoke, and at one end -of it a dark spot and a tiny twinkle of flame. A minute later the -roar of heavy projectiles tearing through the air came to his ears. -Instinctively he flung himself flat upon the deck in the shelter of a -gun-turret of the starboard battery. The sharp, splitting report of the -gun in that turret was blotted out on the instant by a fearful upheaval -that leaped from the centre of the ship with such a blast of noise as -seemed to burst his ears. He had a glimpse, he knew not how, of a sheet -of lurid flame and of a mighty upspout of water on the ship's flank. In -the awful silence which ensued--a silence so profound that he wondered -if he were permanently deafened--he staggered to his feet. The turret -in front of him had been burst open, the gun protruded askew at a -curious angle. He gazed at it, motionless, as though rendered imbecile -with the shock. Then a chorus of agonised screams and shrieks came -from the turret and continued. He heard them with a sense of relief, -so terrible was that unbroken silence. Recovering his wits, he looked -about him. The second gun-shield of the starboard battery had also been -destroyed, the bridge was a hanging mass of contorted scrap-iron, -the wireless "aerials" streamed away to leeward in the gale. The two -forward funnels had disappeared and torrents of black smoke were -welling up from the level of the deck, obliterating everything. In -that smoke, tongues of fire licked upwards, whether from the furnaces -or from a conflagration he did not know. Automatically he began to -run towards the conning-tower. Without defining itself, the thought -that the captain should be informed of the state of affairs impelled -him. As he went he heard again the roar of projectiles. Again he flung -himself flat. This time the enemy was not so successful. A shell burst -somewhere on the fore-castle. The rest flung up spouts of water all -around that fell again with a heavy splash. An instant later he was -hammering at the lid of the manhole in the conning-tower. - -The lid was unfastened from within. He pushed it aside and slid in, -feet foremost. The round steel box was filled with fumes. Through -them he perceived several bodies stretched out upon the floor. He -stumbled over one of them, and the handkerchief over the man's face -slipped aside. It was the commander. He heard the voice of one of the -gunnery-lieutenants at a telephone communicating with a fire-control -station, followed by rapid orders to the electricians turning the -handles of the range indicators. At another telephone a man was making -frantic but ineffectual efforts to get a reply from the wireless room. -A junior officer at the steering wheel gave him a slow strained grin, -almost like an expression of pain. The captain glared at him with eyes -in which there flamed a Berserk madness. - -"Well!" he shouted, sticking his red beard into the lieutenant's face. - -The navigating lieutenant gave his information, staggering with the -heavy lurches of the ship. It flashed on his mind while he spoke that -she no longer rose so buoyantly to the waves. The captain listened, his -face twitching insanely, puckering his fierce eyes. When the lieutenant -spoke of the blur of smoke on the horizon he sprang round and peered -out through the narrow slit between the wall and the roof. Then he -turned with a cry of panic. - -"They are all round us! Starboard your helm! West-by-north-west!" - -The ship came round on her new course with a wallowing roll. The -captain peered again through the observation slit. - -Suddenly there was a fearful shock, a deafening roar, and the slit -was vividly illuminated. The conning-tower had been again struck. The -captain toppled backward on his heels, an object of sickening horror. -The top of his head was gone. The gunnery-lieutenant sank quietly to -his knees and slid over sideways. The officer at the helm was leaning -over the wheel, motionless and staring. A splinter had gone through -his brain. Lieutenant Bielefeld sprang to take his place. Three men -beside himself, rangetakers and electricians, were left alive in the -conning-tower. They seemed in a stupor, dazed by the shock. - -"Telephone to Lieutenant von Waldkirch that he is now in command!" - -An electrician roused himself, attempted to obey, and reported: - -"The communications are broken, Herr Leutnant." - -"One of you go and fetch him--he is in the after fire-control station." - -A man wrenched at the lid of the manhole. - -"It will not open, Herr Leutnant--it is jammed." - -The lieutenant glanced at the observation slit. The aperture was no -longer regular. In front of him it gaped, behind him it was closed. - -"So!--then we will carry on!" His face had gone deathly pale, -but his lips were tight-pressed. "Telephone to such guns as you -can--independent firing!" He himself leaned over to the voice-funnel -from the engine-room. "Wollenmetz!--Wollenmetz!" - -The reply came in a gush of fluent curses, evidently roared with full -lung-power at the other end and terminating with: "What is it?" - -"Are you all well down there?" shouted the lieutenant. - -"All well! We have a shell in the engine-room, the men in the -forward stokeholds are all suffocated--and we have dropped to 100 -revolutions--what is happening with you above? Tell me for God's sake! -It is hell here!" - -"We carry on--_fuer Gott und Kaiser_!" yelled the lieutenant in reply. - -At the helm, he kept the cruiser steadily on her new course. Every -moment he expected to feel the shock of more hits but none came. -Evidently they were getting out of range. It seemed curious with -the known lessening of the ship's speed, but there was the fact. -Encouraged, he shouted down the tube to the engine-room to get all the -speed they could. "We are running out of danger!" he added cheerfully. -"Find out what has happened to the ship if you can--all communications -are broken." For a long time he waited for a reply, but none came. His -shouts down the tube elicited no response. Thus isolated from the life -of the ship of which he was actually in command he kept on his course, -bearing every now and then a little more to the west in his fear of the -ships towards the north-east. How long he continued thus he could not -tell. Every now and then he glanced at the clock in front of him. It -marked always the same time. It was broken. - -Rolling heavily, the cruiser ran onward, unmolested. The three men -began to converse cheerfully. The possibility of escape now seemed to -them a probability. The lieutenant also began to indulge the same hope, -but the whereabouts of the ship which had engaged them worried him. - -Suddenly there was a terrific shock, another red illumination of the -slit at the top of the armour-wall, another tremendous roar. Two men -who had been leaning against the wall fell dead without a scratch. The -impact had killed them. The other man had sprung to the lid of the -manhole, was beating against it with his fists and screaming like a -maniac. Presently he sank down and hid his face in his hands, moaning -like a terror-stricken child. The lieutenant ignored him in an agony of -apprehension. Were they overtaken? - -Outside, explosion followed explosion. The floor of the conning-tower -listed steeply to starboard, and with every lift and drop of the vessel -the bodies about his feet slid towards the wall. Suddenly, to his -horror, he saw a wisp of smoke issuing from the voice-tube leading to -the engine-room. What had happened? Had they stopped? As the ship dived -down a wave he tuned himself to sensitiveness. He felt the momentary -race of the screws threshing the air, just perceptible. Thank God, they -were still moving! The succession of detonations outside never ceased. -He could only guess at their effect and the direction from which the -projectiles came. Assuming the enemy to be still to starboard, he put -the helm hard over in a last despairing effort to run out of range. The -compass card whirled round in the wrong direction! The steering-gear -had gone. - -The ship no longer rose to the seas. She rolled heavily from side -to side in the trough of the waves. The lieutenant looked around -helplessly at the bodies on the floor, at the wrecked indicators, at -the useless wheel, at the man who rocked to and fro with his head in -his hands. His continuous pitiful moaning exasperated the lieutenant -to madness. He drew his revolver and commanded him, with frenzied -vehemence, to be quiet. The man stared wildly at the muzzle of the -revolver, opened his mouth as though about to shriek, and collapsed in -a dead faint. - -The lieutenant turned from him and went to the observation slit. As -the ship lifted clumsily sideways on a wave he had a view of a dark -grey cruiser driving through the mist, quite close--on the port side! -This was a new unsuspected enemy. Water was streaming from her decks -as she rose buoyantly on the sea. A string of flags fluttered along a -halyard from her mast. She seemed as normal as a ship on manoeuvres. -Suddenly half a dozen spurts of bright flame broke from her dark sides. -The lieutenant felt the ship under his feet shiver and stagger in a -deafening roar. Then he felt the weight of his body heavy against the -wall of the conning-tower. He was lying almost horizontal against -that wall. Through the slit he looked out upon confused water only, -in the place of sea and sky. A great wave rolled straight towards -him, splashed against the conning-tower, poured through the slit in a -torrent. He sprang back in pitch darkness, fighting with both hands in -a last instinctive struggle for life. The solid floor went from under -him, human hands clutched at his legs, blindly feeling up his trousers. -He kicked--choking--in a rayless night. - - * * * * * - -Hull-down on the horizon a German battle-cruiser was reporting a -strange vessel that had suddenly appeared, challenged and received -her fire, and then run back into the midst of British cruisers which -had immediately sunk her. Emden sent disquieting answers to urgent -enquiries. - -The great wireless station at Nauen received the news of another -inexplicable disaster. - - - - -THE AIR SCOUT (1914) - - -A large level meadow bit squarely into the edge of the woodland. The -centre of the space enclosed on three sides by trees as by a wall was -an empty stretch of turf, browned by much traffic and littered with -scraps of paper which are the inevitable deposit of any congregation -of human beings. The left-hand side was occupied by a neat row of -slate-grey motor-lorries. The right showed an equally neat array of -tents and sheds over which hung a faint film of wood-smoke. At regular -intervals along the third side a series of placards was affixed to the -tree-trunks, each exhibiting a conspicuous number like stands at a -cattle-show. The stands, however, were vacant. In front of the sheds -on the right stood a little group of men in khaki, and near them two -men in shirt and trousers were busy at a portable forge whence issued -the film of smoke. The hammer-strokes of those men were visible and -evidently delivered with force, yet, curiously enough, at a little -distance they appeared to fall in silence. - -[This description must not be taken as representing the vastly -developed organization of the flying services to-day (1917). The -incident is, of course, quite imaginary. The story was written some -time before the war.] - -A vast noise that came from beyond the wood swallowed all other sounds. -The drowsy air of the hot noon trembled with concussions so rapid that -they merged into one deep-throated, deafening roar. The field was the -aeroplane depot of the Army. The roar was the roar of the battle which -that Army was fighting. - -Despite the apparent nearness of the strife, there was little of -military spectacle about the depot. At the corner of the wood a -squadron of dismounted troopers stood by their horses. A little further -back, along the rough lane which led into the field, a gun mounted on -a motor-lorry stuck its nose perpendicularly into the air. Three or -four men sat on the lorry in easy attitudes and one stood up, glasses -to his eyes, scanning the blue sky. The group of khaki-clad men paid no -more attention to them than they did to the battle-din which swelled -over the woodland. They were absorbed in contemplation of a large -curious-looking bush which stood a few yards in front of them. - -A closer look at that bush revealed that it was artificial. It was, -in fact, a largish shed whose walls and roof were composed of green -boughs. Men were busy within it and a shaft of sunlight that penetrated -the leaves fell in a patch of gold upon some yellow fabric. The object -thus illuminated was the wing of a small, single-seater monoplane. - -A little apart from the other members of the group a slightly-built -young fellow, garbed for the ascent, stood in earnest colloquy with -a tall, lean staff-officer. Behind them the others conversed in -tones just loud enough to be heard in the incessant roar. They were -discussing the disaster of the dawn. - -The blow of the enemy had been terrible. The Army had been smitten in -its eyes. It was now only a blind giant striking at an adversary whose -vision was unimpaired. The entire air-squadron of the force, rising -from its harbourage at the break of day, had been suddenly assailed by -a superior fleet that dropped out of the clouds upon them. Watchers -from below had seen short lightning flashes stabbing the grey mist, had -heard a sharp outbreak of firing, had seen phantom aeroplanes rising, -circling, swooping, colliding in thin cloud, had seen the machines -one after another tumble and dive, lapped by flames, in a sickening -rush to earth. Not theirs alone now lay, crumpled and contorted masses -of scrap-iron, over the countryside, but of theirs none had escaped. -The rear of their battle-line was a picture that his scouts could -report upon at leisure. What lay at the rear of his? None knew, but -the vehemence of his fire told that he was pressing his advantage. The -presentiment of defeat lay heavy on the little group as they disputed -on the blame to be allotted for the catastrophe. - -The staff-officer tugged impatiently at his little grey moustache. -His teeth champed at a bit of grass that was no longer there. In his -anxiety he had not noticed that it had fallen from his mouth. - -"I wish those chaps would be quick," he said. "The General is most -anxious to have that flank cleared up." - -"They are being quick, sir," replied the aviator, with a smile. His -keen, thoughtful face showed that he was not indifferent to the urgency -of the situation, but his calm mouth told of nerves that nothing -could shake. Within that green bower lay the one hope of the Army--its -lightest and swiftest monoplane, damaged in landing the day before, now -being repaired as fast as skilled hands could do the work. - -"You quite understand, don't you?" said the staff-officer, repeating -himself for the tenth time. "The General thinks that a movement is in -progress against our right flank. A screen is extending there which -he cannot penetrate. If they are moving a large force round us he can -detach the Sixth Division to hold them, and with a massed attack he'll -crumple up their left centre which they must have weakened. He'll -repeat Salamanca, that's what he said--I don't know what happened at -Salamanca," he concluded irritably, "but anyway he daren't move a man -till he's sure. I wish your chaps would get finished." He looked up -into the air above him with a circling glance. "How many have they got -now?" - -"Four, I make it," replied the aviator equably. "They had ten -yesterday. Five were smashed up this morning. One got winged an hour -ago." - -At that moment a dirty and perspiring man came out of the bower and, -approaching them, saluted. - -"Ready, sir," he said. - -"Right. Get her out, then," said the aviator. "No! Wait!" His gaze had -gone up to the sky. "There he comes again." - -"D--n!" said the staff-officer, staring upwards also. - -High in the air an aeroplane was coming towards them, parallel with -their own battle-line. In the swollen roar of the conflict, the hum of -its engine was inaudible. It seemed to drift onward leisurely enough, -sinking slightly as it approached but well above effective gun-fire. -Tiny white dots of smoke that sprang into the air below it were a proof -of that. Slowly, as though making a careful examination, it passed -overhead. Suddenly it turned and dropped still lower, coming back -towards them. Something had awakened suspicion in the men up there. -The reason for that artificial bush became apparent. The staff-officer -gazed at the aeroplane, now rapidly enlarging itself in his vision, as -though mesmerised. Anxiety for that precious machine under the leaves -paralysed him. - -The aviator had turned to look at the gun on the motor-lorry. The group -about it sat in quiet expectation. Its muzzle moved gently, came a -little out of the perpendicular. The aviator looked up again at the -machine drifting overhead. He heard a sudden heavy detonation on his -left and almost simultaneously he saw a bright flash appear in the -dark body of the aeroplane. The machine lurched, toppled, dived, and, -falling rapidly, turned bottom up in the air. A couple of dark figures -fell out, raced it in its rush to the ground. A long minute later it -struck the centre of the field. Flames burst out of a shapeless wreck. -The aviator did not heed it. He ran towards the bower. - -"Quick!" he cried. "Get her out!" - -Torn down by twenty pairs of eager hands, the bower fell apart. The -little monoplane was run out, lay like a dragon-fly resting lightly on -the earth. - -The aviator climbed into his seat between the wings, sent a glance from -the compass to the map held open in its frame, saw that the message -bags were ready to his hand, tested the strap of the field-glasses -hanging from his neck with a sharp tug. He was ready. In front of him -two soldier mechanics stood holding the long blades of the tractor -screw. Over there, beyond the wood, the uproar of the battle mounted -in violent paroxysms each of which surpassed its predecessor. The tall -staff-officer approached and held out his hand. - -"Good-bye--and good luck," he said, "and for Heaven's sake let us -know what's happening on that flank. Don't wait to get back--drop the -message." He looked at his watch. "It's now twelve--if we don't know -something within an hour it's all over with our chance. Can you manage -it?" - -"I'll try, sir," said the aviator, checking the hour with a glance at -his own clock. - -The staff-officer turned an anxious pair of eyes upward for a swift -look into the sky, seemed about to make a remark and then obviously -refrained. "Good luck!" was all he could trust himself to say. - -The aviator smiled and nodded cheerfully. Then he ejaculated a sharp -order to the mechanics. They flung the blades of the tractor into -revolution. The machine, emitting a series of riflelike reports, -commenced to run across the field. The tractor became a blur. - -The woodland appeared to rush towards him and then suddenly dropped -away in a diagonal underneath. His eyes on the dial of the barograph, -the aviator warped the machine round and set the planes to an acute -angle of elevation. Confident in the power of his engine he mounted -steeply in a spiral. The record on the dial rose with every second--100 -feet--200--400. In two and a half minutes he had risen 1000 feet. He -cast a swift look below him. He was still over the field, had a glimpse -of a group of tiny figures clustered in front of the sheds. The rim of -the horizon came up, the earth fell into a great concavity. It was like -looking down into a vast bowl containing woods and fields and flattened -hills. From the bowl clouds of yellow-grey dust arose like smoke and -out of the dust came a multiplicity of heavy crashes that detached -themselves from a background of unceasing clatter mingled with one long -rolling thunderous roar. - -It was but a hasty glance the aviator threw below him. Still mounting, -his eyes searched the blue air on a level with himself, above him. The -enemy's three machines where were they? Far off to his left a dark -speck hung in the sky. He watched it intently as his machine climbed. -It was a biplane. It appeared to be drifting away from him, engaged in -a reconnaissance of their left flank, he decided. At any rate as yet -they seemed not to have perceived him. The others were not visible. He -shot a glance at the barograph--3000 feet. He had been climbing for -five and a half minutes. Almost immediately he saw a trail of smoke -ascending with incredible velocity in the air a little below him to his -right. The trail finished abruptly in a vivid flash, a burst of white -smoke and a violent detonation. The monoplane rocked from side to side -in the sudden disturbance of the air but continued to climb. A second -later a similar trial ended in an explosion at a level with him on his -left. He saw a gash appear suddenly in the fabric of one of his planes, -and the needle of the barograph switch back 50 feet with a jerk. Then -the altitude record mounted again steadily--3250--3500--4000. The noise -of the battle diminished as he rose, dropped to a point where it was -all but obscured by the roar of his own engine. Below him the smoke -trails leaped up at him and burst viciously in vain. - -Four thousand five hundred--he glanced at the hostile biplane to his -left and saw that it hung larger in the sky. Even in the moment for -which he watched it it dilated. It was approaching at top speed. He was -discovered, pursued. Instantly he turned off to his right and raced -across the battlefield in the direction of the threatening flank. As he -did so, he perceived another aeroplane rising from the enemy's lines. -It climbed swiftly in bold swoops and then shot off towards him in a -great upward slant. Two! Where was the third? He failed to discover it -and held on his course. - -His direction was at an angle across the battlefield which took -him towards the enemy's left flank rather than to their own right. -As he sped over it, he looked down upon a broad miles-long belt of -yellow-grey dust that rose raggedly into the air, and was spotted with -an innumerable multitude of white puffs that renewed themselves as fast -as they were dissipated. In many places these puffs congregated thickly -and, as they broke, linked themselves with others until they floated -like little narrow clouds in the air below him. As he looked down into -the great concavity of the earth he seemed to be over some enormous -smoking fissure in a crater whose circumference was the horizon. The -rumble and roar which ascended from it assisted the illusion. Tiny -sparks of flame darted and flickered in the fumes of that inferno, and -here and there flashed a number of glittering points, the reflection of -the sun from advancing bayonets. To distinguish men was impossible, but -in occasional rifts in the dust curtain he could make out brown patches -of varying size, and, over to his left, on the enemy's side, similar -though darker patches. - -He could permit himself no sustained scrutiny of the scene below him -for the management of the machine began to claim all his attention. -Even at that great height above the battle, the air on that windless -day, shaken and riven by the unceasing concussions of the massed -artillery of two armies, was full of flaws. The needle of the barograph -flickered, oscillated violently in leaps to and fro. The monoplane, -tilted dangerously, now on one side, now on the other, in eddies of the -tortured atmosphere, slid downward dizzily ere it could be brought up -to climb a bank of air. It needed strong arms at the controls, a quick -brain and nerves of perfect tone to keep her upon the appointed course. -Glancing back, the aviator saw that the flight of the nearer of the two -hostile machines, the one which had risen from the enemy's lines and -was now approaching him on his left, was similarly erratic. - -An overpowering heat, as from a vast open furnace, arose from the -battlefield below. It was the heat from thousands of explosions, -renewed incessantly and sustained over many hours. Stifling gusts -blew on to the aviator's face, carrying with them a peculiar smell of -burning cloth. With these gusts the roar of the battle seemed to leap -up to him. The air was oppressive despite the speed at which he clove -it, highly charged with electricity, heavy with the menace of a storm. -Yet no cloud broke the monotony of the blue sky. The machine raced -onward, was now crossing the battle lines of the enemy's left flank. - -Suddenly he heard a faint rattle behind him. The hostile aeroplane, -realising that it had failed to head him off, was firing furiously. -He felt the machine shiver under a quick succession of hard raps. -Instinctively, he pressed upon his accelerator, and, with a touch on -the warping lever, the machine shot forward at terrific speed. The raps -ceased. He turned his head and saw his enemy rapidly diminish in size -behind him, saw that the other aeroplane, the one he had seen first, -had fallen far in rear. A confident smile came on the tight lips of the -aviator. He could outpace them both. - -He was now above the enemy's left flank--a little to the right of the -spot that the Commander-in-Chief had designated as the object of his -possible attack. The scout switched off his engine and commenced to -drop along a slant towards the centre of the enemy's position. With the -sudden silencing of his engine the roar of the battle came up at him -in a crash and stayed there. He glanced at the time--12.13--and gave -himself a limit of two minutes in which to reconnoitre. For the moment -he ignored his adversaries in the air. As he gazed down through the -transparent panel between his feet, his glasses to his eyes, the ground -that slid away under him appeared to be subjected to a constantly -increasing magnification. Fields, houses, roads grew momentarily more -distinct. Without taking his gaze from the scene below the aviator -checked the drop of his machine and drove forward. Quickly his trained -eye took in the details of the ground, the position and approximate -numbers of the men that he saw massed in dark patches here and there. -Over a long stretch of the position the enemy's line was obviously -thinner. The country behind it was empty of troops. The General's -intuition was correct. The enemy had weakened his left centre. Point -Number One was settled. Now what had he done with the troops he had -withdrawn? - -As the aviator turned his machine to reconnoitre in the new direction, -he was surprised to see the hostile aeroplane between him and his -objective. Absorbed in his scrutiny of the ground, he had all but -forgotten it. It was slightly higher than himself and about half a mile -distant. He could not carry out his reconnaissance without coming into -fatal proximity to its machine-gun, and he could not return directly -over the battle lines without passing between the crossed fires of this -and the other machine now drawing close. Even as the realisation of his -position flashed on him, a narrow slit appeared in one of his planes. -The nearer of his foes was already firing. - -Quicker than thought he turned and raced off into the country behind -the battle. A plan, the only one with a possible chance of success, -had sprung into his mind. He had no intention of failing in this -all-important mission of his. But first he must get out of the range -of that deadly machine-gun. He dared not rise across it at barely -half a mile range. At full speed he raced away, inclining his machine -downwards. The hostile aeroplane followed, depressing her course -likewise, to get him into the zone of her fire or to force him to the -ground. The scout's speedometer registered 100 miles an hour. Beneath -his feet he had glimpses of trees and houses and fields flitting past -in a stream where salient features prolonged themselves into long -blurred lines. They looked oddly large after the altitude at which he -had been contemplating them. He threw a glance over his shoulder at his -pursuers. The nearer was now rather more than a mile away. The other -had apparently given up the chase. The clock showed 12.15; in less -than two minutes he distanced his adversary by nearly a mile--he had -therefore a superiority in speed of about twenty-five miles per hour. -He did not consciously deduce this result. His trained mind working -with incomputable swiftness under the stimulant of imminent danger -gave the result like an intuition. His plan presented itself to him -completely formed. At this distance he could risk the danger zone of -the machine-gun for the few moments he would be in it. He swerved his -machine upward and climbed steeply. In a minute the other aeroplane was -level with him; beneath him. The scout rose along a slant, slowing -down his engine until his pace was almost equal to that of the machine -below. Both rose steadily. - -The battle din ceased altogether behind him. He flew in the seeming -silence of the roar of his own engine and the deeper bass of the -other machine, just audible, below. He bent forward over his map and -picked out his approximate position. Then he noted a village some -twenty miles in rear of the battle, and drew an imaginary line from it -south-westward to the enemy's left flank. That village was to serve -as turning-point. He should reach it, he calculated, at 12.27. The -barograph indicated 3000 feet and still rising. - -12.25--the scout bent his eyes on the ground. A couple of minutes later -a handful of white cottages flitted past as he looked down between his -feet. His enemy could not be seen. The body of the monoplane hid him as -he flew below and slightly in rear, but the roar of his engine, louder -than the scout's own, could just be heard. - -Now was the time--the scout turned off abruptly at a tangent along the -line he had marked out for himself and drove his engine at its fastest. -The speedometer needle oscillated over 101 miles an hour. He calculated -that he had approximately twenty miles to go ere he reached the patch -of country he wished to explore. He should reach the commencement of -the enemy's left flank at 12.39, and be able to spend six minutes in -flying over five miles of ground and then have a couple of minutes in -hand. To the trained intellect behind his keen eyes six minutes were -amply sufficient. Having run along the left flank it was simplicity -itself to turn to the right and glide down into his own lines. There -seemed nothing to stop him. The pursuing machine was being quickly left -behind. The slow biplane now far off to his right could not possibly -arrive in time. The sky in front was clear of any menace. - -Again he began to draw close to the great belt of dust-cloud which -stretched out to his right and again the din of battle began to -overpower the roar of his engine. Directly ahead was a dark mass of -woodland. It was from thence that the enemy's screen around the right -flank of the scout's army commenced. He swerved slightly to the left, -behind it. The hour was a second or two over 12.38. - -Below him was a network of country roads, and from four strands of that -network which ran in an approximately parallel direction, coincident -with his own course, arose long dense clouds of dust. It was the dust -of marching columns. The scout shot a glance back at his pursuer, -assured himself that it was five or six miles in rear, and slowed down -his engine as he entered upon a long, gradual descent over the route of -those marching columns. - -For mile after mile on those four roads the dust cloud continued. -The scout checked off the distances by villages on his map. Adding -the length of the four roads together he estimated that about twenty -miles of road was occupied by the marching force. It was a whole army -corps, then, that was endeavouring to turn their flank. In the open -fields between the roads he could distinguish small bodies of cavalry -advancing in the same direction. The mass on the roads was certainly -infantry, broken here and there by long columns of artillery. The low -dense clouds of dust kicked up by the tramp of thousands of feet were -cut into short sections where the guns and wagons of the batteries -rolled onward. From a rough calculation of those intersected clouds -he decided that four brigades of artillery were on the march. He had -descended now to 2000 feet, and he kept at that height as he roared -over the plodding columns. Behind him his pursuer had lessened the -distance between them, was getting dangerously close. The biplane on -his right was also approaching. Nevertheless, the scout held on his way -comfortably. There was nothing to prevent him carrying out his plan. - -He was already well beyond the prolongation of his own army's line of -battle when he reached the head of the marching infantry. Contrary to -his expectation, however, they were not wheeling to the right. They -continued straight on, marching away from the battle, it seemed. The -scout was puzzled for a moment. He searched the ground in front of him -for more troops. It was apparently empty. Then, from a fold in the -landscape considerably ahead, he saw another, smaller dust cloud arise. -At his highest speed he raced towards it, overtook it in less than -a minute. Below him a cavalry brigade, accompanied by two batteries -of horse artillery, was trotting sharply forward. What was their -objective? He scanned the country in front of them intently. Some three -miles ahead of the cavalry was a wooded hill. He picked it out on the -map, saw instantly that it commanded the main avenue of retreat of his -army. The enemy's plan was clear. He would occupy it with the cavalry -and the two batteries until the infantry got up. The threatened army, -then attacked in flank and rear, would find its retreat cut off. If -the scout's commander was aiming to repeat Salamanca, the enemy was -endeavouring to repeat Jackson's march at Chancellorsville. The danger -was pressing. The scout reckoned that within half an hour the hostile -cavalry would be in possession of that hill. In an hour the infantry -would begin to come up in support. Where was the Sixth Division that he -had been told would check the flank movement of the enemy? He searched -for it, saw a brown mass about two miles from the wooded hill. Its -cavalry might get there in a quarter of an hour by a rapid dash. He had -then a quarter of an hour to deliver his message and get the division -set in motion. The hour was 12.46. - -He wheeled towards his own line and commenced a downward glide at a -gentle angle. Then, taking his hands from the controls, he rapidly -wrote down a clear concise statement of the case in his report book. -Even if he did not reach earth, his message might. He glanced up to -see that his indefatigable pursuer was now swooping down to cut him -off. Moments were precious. He ripped out the page, thrust it into the -weighted message bag and tied it up. Then he started his engine again, -aiming for the brown mass of the Sixth Division. - -Something made him look to his left. He was startled to see a large -biplane rushing up at him from the direction of the wooded hill. It -had evidently descended to effect some repairs and had lain hidden -far behind his own line. He recognised it at once. It was by far the -swiftest and most powerful machine possessed by either army. On his -present course a few seconds would bring him within range of its -machine-gun. To his right the other machine was rapidly growing larger. -In front, the slow biplane had sailed over the battle lines, was -heading straight for him. The three machines were converging on him. -The scout saw that he would either be forced away from the battle or -destroyed, his message undelivered in either case. - -He swerved his machine and climbed. If only he could get above the -Sixth Division for an instant, he would throw over the message-bag, -chance its being picked up. To do that it was necessary to get higher. -On his present or a lower level he would be riddled with machine-gun -bullets. His adversaries on either hand rose also, but he got the lead -of them. - -As they rose in circles he watched for his opportunity when both should -be turned away from him. The moment came. He seized it and dived, -with his engine running at full speed. The earth rushed upwards, its -features enlarging themselves as though they swelled to burst. The -brown mass of the Sixth Division spaced itself out into battalions, -squadrons, below him, in front. They were exactly underneath. He flung -out the message-bag, with something like a prayer in his heart. On -either hand his adversaries were swooping down upon him. He thought -he heard the rattle of their machine-guns, but in the roar of his own -engine he could not be sure. - -Down and still down the three machines rushed. Suddenly he noticed the -slow biplane in front--on an even lower level than himself. It was very -close. He saw the pale dot of the face of the man behind the gun. If -he swerved he would be under its fire in a moment. If he kept on his -course he must crash into it. His decision was instant, instinctive. He -held on. One thought dominated him as he dived straight at it. Had his -message been picked up? If not----? He saw the gleaming backs of the -outstretched plane almost under him. He set his teeth for the impact. A -second more--the wide stretch of yellow canvas suddenly jerked to the -left and crumpled in a blinding flash. He had not touched. He swerved -to the right with all his force in the tiniest fraction of a second and -shot past something that fell, flaming.... A shell from below had hit -the biplane at the moment almost of collision. - -He had a confused sense of other shells exploding in the air. A battery -was seizing its chance to get the enemy's aircraft in a cluster, -regardless of the danger to him. He continued his rush downward, -feeling rather than knowing that the other two machines were in close -pursuit. If he could only be certain that his message had been picked -up! - -He flung a glance back over his shoulder. The powerful biplane that had -risen from behind the wooded hill was close upon him. Why did they not -fire? He felt himself a target, was surprised not to see the gash of -bullets on his machine. The explanation flashed on him. The gun had -jammed. The biplane came at him as though it were itself a projectile. -Its crew had desperately resolved to ram him, to sacrifice themselves -rather than to allow him to bring his precious information to the -ground. They were almost upon him. He swerved and dodged. The biplane -shot past. - -Immediately he saw the other machine close upon him, saw a spurt of -fire from the muzzle of its gun. He dived. A belt of trees rushed -up at him, fearfully close. Their dark foliage seemed to break into -puffs of black smoke over his eyes. He swerved instinctively, saw a -meadow burst through the dark smoke, fly skyward in a mist of blood. -With a last desperate effort he banked. His hands slid from the -controls--everything swam. He was vaguely conscious of a heavy impact -from underneath---- - -Something was burning his throat--he opened his eyes, gazed into a -man's face close to his. Consciousness came back in a rush. He pushed -away the brandy flask that was being pressed against his teeth and -struggled to his feet. Strong arms supported him. Several men were -round him, looking at him. He was close to a road, and along that road -he thought he saw batteries of artillery galloping at full speed. -He was not certain of their reality. They passed like phantoms in -his vision, wavering up and down. He wanted to do something--to ask -something--what was it? He all but fixed the elusive thought--and lost -it. His hand felt for the duplicate report-book in his pocket--his -desire was connected with that. The report-book had gone. Then a -fragment of his intangible preoccupation floated, visible as it were, -in his brain. He clutched at it. - -"What--what guns are those?" he asked thickly. - -"Divisional artillery--Sixth Division," came the reply. "All right. We -got your message." - -The scout put his hand to his brow and then, dropping it, stared at it -stupidly. It was red. - -"All right," said the voice. "You're hit--but not seriously. Lie down." - -The scout collected all his faculties in an attempt to bring out one -more thought from the obscurity which filled his brain. - -"What--what time--now?" he asked. - -"Just one o'clock." The voice appeared to recede to an enormous -distance, although he felt the speaker's face close to his. "They're in -time--don't worry. Lie down. The ambulances are coming in a minute or -two." - -The scout stood obstinately. - -"The--the other--machines?" - -"Bagged 'em both. You came down beautifully--like a kite." The voice -sounded from worlds away. - -The aviator put his hand to his head. - -"In time!" He breathed the words rather than spoke them. They came like -the sigh of a man utterly spent. - -The man who had been supporting him turned round with a jump and -focussed his binoculars on the wooded hill. A crowd of white puffs was -breaking out in the air above it. - -The scout, left unattended, swayed with hands stretched out like a -blind man. The field whirled round and round suddenly with a fearful -rapidity and then rushed up and struck him. - -The man with the binoculars ignored his prone body. - -"Beat 'em on the post!" he shouted in joyous excitement. "By the Lord! -Beat 'em on the post!" - - - - -KULTUR (1915) - - -The subaltern commanding this section of the trench sat in a hunched -position in the narrow corridor of earth topped with sandbags. His -knees drawn up to serve as a support for the writing-pad, he wrote -quickly between long pauses when he bit the end of his pencil and -stared reflectively at the brown clay wall some two feet in front of -his nose. At his side a man stood, bent and motionless, peering into -the lower end of a long box, very narrow in proportion to its length, -which he held against the side of the trench so that the other end just -rose above the wall of sandbags. Further view down the trench in that -direction was barred by the traverse--the thick dividing-wall of earth -that would localise the effect of a shell-burst or a bomb. All was -quiet. The subaltern might have imagined that only he and the look-out -at his side remained buried in this flat landscape where once two -armies had flung fire and noise and steel at one another, hidden from -the sight of those who should have come to tell him that the war was -over and the armies stolen away. He did not so imagine. Ever present -to his mind was the parallel line of sandbags, some fifty yards away, -between him and which stretched a tangle of wire overgrown with rank -grasses and tufts of corn. That parallel line was the great permanent -fact in his existence. He knew it in its every aspect better than he -had ever previously known anything on this earth. Not a spot on that -apparently deserted wall might change without his being interested to -the quick. Even as he wrote, the feeling and the knowledge of it were -concrete in his brain, constraining him to this cramped attitude. - -Since October this wall of his had fronted the other wall and now it -was June. For nine long months, through snow and rain and sunshine, -from the long nights to the long pitiless days, these two walls had -remained the same, sheltering the same lurking enmities though the -individuals who temporarily incarnated them came and went. Sometimes -ablaze with stabs of darting flame, erupting bombs lobbed with a -deceptive innocent slowness through the air, belching a mass of men -who ran and stumbled and fell in an infinite variety of ways--men who -shouted and who screamed so that their voices pierced the appalling -uproar; sometimes stretching blank across the fields in a deathly -stillness as to-day; their position had never altered. The quagmire -between them, criss-crossed with barbed wire, had grown up into a waste -of grass and nodding poppies that nearly hid what looked like bundles -of weather-stained old clothes whence came a sickening, all-pervading -smell. Behind each wall, hundreds of men had died or been carried -away, maimed and broken, a lifelong burden for some human heart. Not -a sandbag of those piled to make the parapet which sheltered the -subaltern, but might have had a man's name written on it in memoriam -of a life suddenly extinguished. The necrology of the opposing parapet -would have been as full. - -In the hush which brooded over so much death--past and to come--a -pause, it would seem, where the overhanging invisible demon of war -reflected on its work--a mood of questioning, of revolt, came over the -subaltern as he scribbled his pencilled lines. - -"On a quiet evening like this one cannot help moralising a little," -he wrote, "wondering what it's all for and what we purchase with our -death. This constant murdering of individuals on both sides who commit -the crime of inadvertently showing an inch of head--how does this help -matters?" The sharp crack of a rifle somewhere along the trench caused -the officer to raise his head, listening with all his faculties at -strain. The look-out at his side did not stir, no report followed the -first, and he bent himself again to his letter. "I don't want to appear -squeamish, fine-stomached in this rough game, but I don't think I shall -ever be able to kill cold-bloodedly. I have been unfitted by long -centuries of culture----" - -He was interrupted by the appearance of another officer, who squirmed -himself round the traverse with a pronounced stoop necessitated by his -uncommon tallness. The fair-moustached, boyish face of the new-comer -was radiant with glee. - -"I say, Lennard!" he said impetuously. "Ripping luck! We've just bagged -Fritz! You heard the shot just now? Folwell, my sergeant, got him. Been -waiting for him for over an hour, without moving a muscle. Topping -chap, Folwell. All he said was, 'Married life don't seem to 'ave -spoilt my aim, sir.' You remember, he asked for leave to get married?" - -Lennard abandoned his letter and lit a cigarette. - -"I wonder whether Fritz was married," he said with a little malicious -smile, the ideas recently in possession of him firing a final shot in a -faint rearguard action with the returning everyday occupants. - -"Well, that's one more nuisance abated." - -"Rather!" said the other, seating himself and likewise lighting a -cigarette. "Fritz must have bagged not less than a dozen of our chaps," -he calculated, gazing reflectively at the thin spiral of tobacco smoke -which ascended straight in the still evening air. "Well, he's gone, -thank the Lord! and we got Hans yesterday and Karl the day before. I -must have a pot at old Hermann. If we could bag him we might hope for a -quiet life." - -Lennard nodded. Each one of the German snipers--if sufficiently lucky -to carry on his profession for a day or two--acquired an individuality -and a name. Hermann was an especially dangerous neighbour who lurked -somewhere in a ruined cottage that lay between the lines where they -bent away slightly from each other. He rarely fired except to kill, and -hid himself so well that not one of the numerous patrols sent out had -succeeded in discovering his lair. - -The two subalterns chatted awhile over their cigarettes, while the red -gold of the western sky faded into rose. They talked of the little -incidents of mess and trench, magnified by their isolation from the -main stream of life, and then, harking back, of the things that once -had been so important to them in London town, and were now so dwindled -and remote. A year ago Lennard was a critic who was read, and Wilson, -the tall subaltern, a painter whose first success was hanging on the -line. Both were, or had been, highly polished products of what we -called, proudly, civilisation. As they talked the old scenes came back -to them, obliterating the present. At last Wilson rose, responsive to a -subtle inner sense of time measured, independent of his consciousness. - -"Well, so long, old thing," he said, standing up and straightening his -tall form, fatigued with so much bending. The momentary forgetfulness -was fatal. On the instant a rifle cracked and the lanky subaltern -collapsed as though his knees had been knocked from under him. - -"My God!" cried Lennard, limb-paralysed by this brutally tragic -reassertion of his environment. Trembling, his heart seeming to stop -and swell within him, he bent down to his friend. He touched mere -clothed flesh, heavy and inert, on which the flies had already settled. -They buzzed away, indignantly asserting their right of pasture. A -madness of anger at this wanton annihilation of a life that was -not just a dull living but an irradiation of the spirit, connoting -civilisation, highly conscious, swept over him. He burst into a torrent -of incoherent wrathful curses. - -"That was 'Ermann, sir," said the observer at the periscope. "I spotted -the flash, in among them bricks." - -Lennard rose, fiercely vengeful. - -"Let me look. Where did you see the flash?" - -"Three o'clock from that bit of greenstuff in the middle, sir," -replied the man, ceding his place at the periscope. "You'll see a dark -spot--that's 'is loophole." - -Lennard gazed down into the mirror of the instrument. There was just -light enough for him to pick up the spot indicated. - -"Very good." He strode, with bent back, down the trench, muttering to -himself. - -It was night when, rifle in hand, he swung himself nimbly over the -parapet. For some minutes he lay flat on the ground at the other side, -not moving an inch. Over his head the crack of rifles and the loud, -rapid hammer taps of the Maxims recommenced their fusillade against the -heap of bricks. From the first shade of dusk he had arranged that a -constant enfilading fire be kept up on the sniper's lurking-place. He -had no intention of letting Hermann slip away--yet. - -He raised his head slightly, fixed his bearings in the gloom and then, -still prone, began to nip a way through the wire entanglements. A -German flare went up, dazzling with a ghastly light, too brilliant -for distinct vision. He lay motionless. As it descended and fizzled -out upon the ground he had a clear view of his course. He was aiming -at a point in front of the German wire, whence he could enfilade the -gap between the heap of bricks and the hostile parapet. Over his head -the hard, sharp cracks of his own men's fire followed one another -continuously. They would not cease for nearly fifteen minutes yet. -Meanwhile Hermann would be lying close. He cut and wrenched at the -wire and wriggled forward, grimly disdainful of the barbs that plucked -and tore his clothes. - -Again and again a soaring German flare stopped his progress. Clearly, -this incessant fusillade was making the enemy nervous. At each -illumination he lay as if he were one of the bundles of old clothes -that occasionally he pushed against. The British parapet darted with -fire--awoke a sympathetic crackling somewhere to the right. - -At last. He settled himself in a comfortable firing position, couched -in the long damp grass. An insect, unaware in its littleness of the -large death that whistled above its world, quitted a pendent blade, -explored his cheek. - -Crack--crack--crack! the last British rifles ceased. There was an -instant's stillness, and then yet another flare shot up from the -suspicious German trench. It fell, sizzled--illuminating the ruins that -he watched with all his faculties focussed, all his nerves coming to a -point on his trigger finger--and then the world plunged into blackness. -There was silence and impenetrable darkness. - -Minute after minute dragged slowly past in a dead hush. Finger on -trigger, every fibre tense, the prone figure waited. A primeval self -awoke in him--a savage who stalked and could indefinitely maintain his -ambush. His senses were as keen as though hyper-stimulated by some -strange drug. A grim, patient lust to kill reigned in him. - -The minutes passed slowly, slowly. He looked to one of them, not yet -arrived, as to a term. When? He felt it approaching, concentrated to -a still acuter degree his attention. The trigger seemed to be pressing -against his finger. What was that? Surely something was moving there in -the gloom--by the ruin. Why did not the flare he had ordered go up? His -whole soul went out in a desperate prayer for it as he held his breath -and strove with baffled eyes against the darkness. - -Suddenly the craved-for light shot up. Perception and trigger-pressure -were instantaneous with the flash of its discharge. A running, stooping -figure pitched headforemost before the stab of flame from the rifle. - -Immediately a vicious fire from the German parapet answered this -impertinence. The slayer lay still as death, listening with painfully -acute perception to the ugly _phat!_ of bullets in the earth around -him. A bomb fell, burst with a deafening report and a blinding flash of -flame so close that he marvelled at his escape. By an effort of will he -choked down the cough that the fumes provoked. - -Rifle-fire at night is infectious. A sporadic and probably harmless -duel sputtered up and down the trenches. At last a gun, way back -somewhere, sent over a shell, and, as though obedient to this protest -from their big brother, the rifles were silenced, one by one. The -opposing trenches again lay in darkness and quiet. - -The subaltern, assuring himself that all was still, wriggled forward -to the body of his victim, lay full-length beside it. Quickly he ran -through the dead man's pockets, stuffed a bundle of papers into his -own. Then, a rifle in each hand, he crawled back to his own parapet, -climbed over and lay down. In an instant he was sound asleep. - -It was bright morning when he awoke. High up a lark was pouring out -its cheerful song. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, saw the two rifles, and -remembered with a smile. Close by him a man was heating some coffee in -a mess-tin over a methylated flame. He asked for some and drank it with -a pleasant physical sense of his body that was still alive, and could -drink. It warmed him. Then he remembered the papers he had taken from -the unlucky Hermann. Sipping at the coffee, he read a letter that was -among them. - - "Dearest Wife and Sweetheart," it ran, "I don't altogether like the - hatred of these Englishmen that your letter expresses. They only do - their duty as we do ours, and they fight well. Would all this killing - were over and we were friends again! It is in a sacred cause, I - know--we could not let our culture be stifled--but the sacrifices are - heavy. I sometimes wonder whether the old days will ever return, and - I shall once more write songs for you to sing in London and in Paris. - I can faintly hear a nightingale somewhere, or is it you?--I must - close now, as I am just ordered off to a dangerous post, and the dawn - will soon be breaking. - - "All the love of - Karl." - -Lennard, moved by a sudden curiosity, looked at the superscription -of the envelope, ready addressed. Evidently the sniper had put it in -his pocket and forgotten to give it to his comrades before setting -out. The name was familiar. He coupled it, Karl ----. His victim was -a writer of songs that his wife loved to sing and he to hear. He sat -for a moment gazing thoughtfully at the letter, yet without definite -thoughts. Then, with a sigh, he rose. - -Instantly a bullet smacked against the sandbags, missing his head by a -couple of inches. - -"Bad shot, that," he murmured as he ducked. "Lucky thing I bagged old -Hermann!" - - - - -THE MAGIC OF MUHAMMED DIN - - -The intense heat of the day was already a memory of uneasy sleep, -and the distant hills seen across the plain of grey, sun-baked mud -were soft in a soft sky. Right across the horizon, as seen from the -Political Officer's bungalow, stretched the mountain range, rising -from deep blue at the base through a gradation of fairy amethyst and -turquoise to a delicate pink suffusing the summits. The Political -Officer, his left elbow resting on his writing-table, his fingers -caressing the bowl of the old briar whose stem was gripped between -white teeth, tobacco-smoke wreathing away from him, contemplated it -with bent brows and narrowed eyes. The gaze of that lean face, sallow -with many Indian summers, roved not over the distant prospect, tempting -though were the transitions and flaws of changing colour on crag and -peak to left and right of the point on which his vision was fixed. -His expression was stern, the thrust forward of his clean-cut jaw -predominant. Aesthetic enjoyment of the aspect of the frontier hills -thus perfidiously beautiful in the evening light had no part in his -meditations. - -The curtain of the door was plucked aside. A long-robed native, -white-bearded, entered noiselessly, bowed, with arms outstretched from -his sides, stood erect and waited for orders. - -The Political Officer responded with a nod to the "_Salaam, Sahib_." -His gaze detached itself from the distant view, ranged keenly over the -tall figure in front of him. Under the swathes of the green _pagari_ -that narrowed the brown forehead a pair of dark eyes of strange -intensity met his own. The disturbing effect of their direct gaze was -heightened by the bushy white brows under which they glowed. The big, -beaked nose, thin-bridged, emphasized their power. The long, white -beard spreading over the breast solemnified them with a hint of ancient -wisdom. The eyes of the white sahib and the ascetic _Haj_ (as his green -turban proclaimed him) met unflinchingly. - -"The _Sahib_ asked for the fakir Muhammed Din--is it well, _Sahib_?" - -"It is well, _Haj_," replied the Political Officer, a twinkle in his -eye and a subtle emphasis on the title. - -"Did not the Prophet throw his green mantle over Ali that he might -himself escape from his enemies, O Protector of the Religion?" replied -the fakir, a little piqued. - -"_Maloom_" ("It is known"), said the Political Officer, curtly but with -a tone of friendliness. "I called you not to discuss the religion, but -to protect it. I have work for you, Muhammed Din--dangerous work." - -"It is well, _Sahib_." - -"An emissary of our foes is among the tribes, Muhammed Din, and is -preaching a false gospel to them. War and the woes of war will surely -follow if we do not still his tongue. Listen! You have heard that the -infidel Caliph Willem of the West has falsely proclaimed himself a -follower of the Prophet that he may use the power of true believers to -further his own wicked ends?" - -"It is known, _Sahib_." - -"He has sent one of his tribe, dressed as a fakir, into the hills to -preach a new Jehad. Already the _mullahs_ (priests) are gathering about -him. This fakir calls himself Abd-ul-Islam, but he is a Feringhi, no -true believer, and no true friend to the religion. Yet he is leading -many astray, for he deludes them with a false magic. You will see for -yourself. You remember the magic pictures you saw at Karachi?" - -"I remember, _Sahib_." - -"It is such magic as that. There is none but Muhammed Din I might -safely trust to close the mouth of such a rogue; therefore, Muhammed -Din"--the eyes of white _sahib_ and Moslem fakir again looked into -each other--"I am sending you on the mission. I asked you to come as a -fakir because I judged that to be your best disguise. You have come as -a _Haj_, which is even better. I do not want this impostor killed, if -it can be helped. I want him exposed, discredited. I send you, Muhammed -Din." He looked at him with significance as he added: - -"You may find an old acquaintance." - -The fakir stroked his long beard. - -"He shall be brought to you riding backwards upon an ass, and the -women shall mock at him' _Sahib_. I swear it." - -The Political Officer smiled. - -"None can if you cannot, Muhammed Din. Now I will explain these things -to you more fully." - -The Political Officer spread a map across the table and pointed out -the route of the German agent across the Persian frontier and among -the hills. His present abiding-place was fairly accurately known. -The pseudo-fakir attentively considered the ways to it. Then he drew -himself erect. - -"It is well, _Sahib_. I will now go." - -"You have a plan, Muhammed?" - -The fakir smiled grimly. - -"This dog has his false magic, _Sahib_, but Muhammed Din knows many -magics that are not false. I have sworn." - -"Go, then. Allah be with you!" - -"And with you, _Sahib_!" - -Muhammed Din salaamed once more, lifted the curtain, and passed out. -The Political Officer watched him go across the compound, and then bent -down to his work again with a little outbreathing of satisfaction. The -Secret Service had no more reliable man than Muhammed Din. - - * * * * * - -The squalid little village high up in a cleft of the brown and barren -hills, that gleamed golden aloft where they cut sharply across the -intense blue of the sky, was filled with an uncommon concourse of -tribesmen. And yet more were arriving. Down the stony paths which led -to the village from the heights, up the boulder-strewn, dried-up -stream-bed which afforded the easiest passage from below, the hillmen -hurried in little groups--a bearded _khan_, a modern rifle on his -shoulder, his cummerbund stuck full of knives, followed by a ragged -rabble of retainers, variously armed. Their weapons were mementoes -of generations of rifle-stealing and gun-running. Lee-Enfields, -Lee-Metfords, Martinis, Sniders--all were represented. Not a few -carried the old-fashioned _jezail_, the long-barrelled gun with inlaid, -curved stock. All had knives. - -They swarmed on the rough roadway between the squat stone, windowless -houses whose loopholes were eloquent of their owners' outlook on life. -They clustered round the stone-parapeted well in the centre of the -village, so that the women with the water-pots were richly provided -with an excuse for loitering. The clamour of excited voices resounding -from the walls was re-echoed at a fiercer shout from the steep, -towering hill-sides, stone-terraced near the village into plots of -cultivated land. - -This was no ordinary assemblage. From far and near the tribesmen -swarmed in, and men met face to face whose habitual encounter would -have sent both dodging to cover, rifle to the shoulder. The blood-feuds -were laid aside. Families that for months had lived in terror of -their neighbours across the village street, quitting their domiciles -stealthily by the back way when they had occasion to go out, while -the sudden rifle-shot of the concealed marksman added steadily to the -tale of vendetta victims on both sides, mingled now with the throng, -albeit cautiously. Men whose dwellings were a doorless tower which -they entered and left by a basket on a rope, who tilled their fields -with ever a rifle in their hand, strode now down the street, their -dark eyes roving from side to side, and passed their adversaries with -scarce a scowl. Mullahs, Koran in hand, their young disciples at their -skirts, threaded their way through the crowd, giving and receiving -pious salutation, exhorting, preaching, inflaming the fanaticism of -passions naturally fierce. The blood-feuds between man and man, village -and village, were forgotten in the reawakened, never-extinguished feud -between Islam and the infidel. Behind the priests marched men armed -to the teeth, their faces working in a frenzy, their eyes inflamed. -They were _ghazi_--wrought up to the pitch of fervour where their own -life is a predetermined sacrifice, so that they may first slay an -unbeliever, sure of immediate Paradise as their reward. - -Above the murmur of voices came the continual drone: - -"_La Allah il Allah!_ There is no God but God, and Mohammed is His -Prophet!" - -It re-echoed down the valley in sudden shouts. - -Into this excited throng strode the green turban, the venerable figure -of Muhammed Din, piously telling his beads. Men jostled one another -out of his way, for this fakir was quite obviously an especially holy -man, one who had made the pilgrimage. Giving and receiving the Moslem -greeting, "May the peace of Allah be with you!" he inquired the house -of the village mullah, and made his way towards it. - -He met the priest just on the point of quitting his dwelling. The -mullah had a busy and important look. It was a great day for him. - -"The peace of Allah be with you!" said Muhammed Din. - -"And with you, O holy man!" replied the mullah. He scented an -application for hospitality. "Blessed is the day that you come to us, -for Allah worketh wonders in my village. Many have come to witness -them. Alas! that you did not come before, O holy one, or my house that -I have already given up to others would be yours!" - -"A corner and a crust of bread, O Mullah!" - -"Alas! Allah be my witness! Neither remains to me, O holy one--but I -will lodge you with a pious man when the saint whom Allah has sent to -us has finished the wonders he is about to show. I must hurry, O holy -one! for the moment is at hand. The peace of Allah be with you!" - -"Allah has guided my footsteps to you, O Mullah, for I have come from -a far land to see these wonders. I will accompany you, for it is His -will." - -"Hurry, then!" said the priest irritably, "or Shere Khan's house will -be full. Allah knoweth that I praise Him for thy coming!" he added by -way of afterthought. - -The house of Shere Khan, the headman of the village, was besieged by -a turbulent crowd of tribesmen, who jostled one another for entrance. -In view of the limited space within, only those known to be most -influential were admitted. They deposited their weapons as they -entered. - -Muhammed Din followed the mullah, who bustled in with an air of -great importance. The largest room of Shere Khan's house, a gloomy, -stone-walled apartment, almost completely dark since the loopholes -high up were stuffed with rags, was set aside for the occasion. More -than two-thirds of it was already filled with tribesmen, who squatted -on the floor. The remaining portion was rigidly kept clear by one or -two of Shere Khan's armed retainers. "Sit farther back, O Yakub Khan! -More space, O Protector of the Poor! Farther back, O Yusuf, lest the -miracles about to be performed by the will of Allah scorch thee! Back, -back, O children of the Prophet! I entreat ye!" The entreaty was -emphasized by sundry kicks which the sentries grinningly delivered with -a sense of the privileges proper to such an occasion. - -The wall at the end of the clear space was whitened. High up on the -other wall, behind the tribesmen, was a newly erected box of wood, -large enough to hold a man, supported on pillars of light timber, and -only to be reached by a ladder, of which there was at the moment no -sign. The tribesmen turned their heads curiously towards this unusual -contrivance and nudged and whispered to one another. - -"Behold the cage in which the saint keeps the devils over which Allah -and the Prophet have given him power!" - -Those who were nearest it stirred uneasily. - -"What if it should be the will of Allah that they break out of the -cage!" - -"We are God's and unto God shall we return!" replied his neighbour -nervously, quoting the verse of the Koran which gives protection in -time of danger. "May Allah protect us!" - -Muhammed Din sat modestly among the throng, telling his beads with bent -head. - -"What thinkest thou of these wonders, O holy one from a far land?" -asked the man next to him. - -"The wisdom of Allah is inscrutable and much that is hidden shall be -yet revealed," replied Muhammed Din solemnly. - -There was a stir of expectation throughout the gloomy apartment. -The mullah entered by a door at the farther end, near the whitened -wall, uttered a sonorous benediction, and sat down, with grave -self-satisfaction, in the front row. - -One minute more of tense waiting--and then, amid a low murmur from the -assembly, the curtain at the far door was again lifted. The "Saint" -appeared. For a moment he stood in a dramatic pose, illumined by a ray -of light from without as he held back the curtain. Then, dropping it, -he strode solemnly forward into the cleared space. Every eye gazed -at him with an avid curiosity. The light in the doorway had revealed -him as a youngish man, despite the full beard which lent him dignity. -His stately carriage of the long Moslem robes, dimly perceived in the -gloom, was worthy of his _role_. - -He stretched out his hands. - -"The peace of Allah be with you!" he said in a deep tone that had only -the faintest tinge of a European accent. - -In a low deep chant of awed voices the assembly returned the salutation. - -"O children of the Prophet! Men of the hills! Greeting! Greeting not -from me but from the greatest Sultan of the world!" He spoke in their -own dialect, but with a strong admixture of Persian words. "Listen! Ye -know already--for his fame has passed the confines of the earth--that -the great Sultan Willem of the Franks was visited by a vision from God, -and that having had truth revealed unto him he turned aside from the -error of his ways and embraced the true faith. Written in great letters -of gold over the Sultan's palace shall ye find the sacred words: 'There -is no God but God and Mohammed is His Prophet!'" - -He stopped to allow his words their full effect. A murmur of wonderment -came from his audience. "A-ah! God is great! Unto Him be the praise!" - -He resumed. - -"And with him turned all his vizirs and mullahs and khans from the -false belief and called on Allah and Mohammed. I--even I, Abd-ul-Islam, -who stand before you--am one of them. The Sultan Willem issued a decree -to all his people that they should believe in the true faith--and lo! -Allah wrought a miracle and they all believed, destroying their false -mosques and building new ones to the glory of the Prophet. Great is -Allah and Mohammed His Prophet that these things should have come to -pass, O children of the Faith! They are hard of belief, for the Franks -ye well know are a stiff-necked race. Yet such it is, and my Lord the -Sultan hath sent me on an embassy to you that I may tell you these -marvellous things. And that ye may more readily believe, Allah in His -great mercy has given me power to show you these wonders with your own -eyes." His tone took on a deeper, more sonorous solemnity. "O Allah! -Allah! In the name of the Prophet, vouchsafe that these thy children -may see the great Sultan Willem as he is at this moment!" - -He clapped his hands sharply together. - -Instantly a beam of intensely white light shot across the dark -apartment from the "cage" and fell upon the white wall at the other -end. The "Saint" stepped quickly out of the radiance. On the white -surface there suddenly appeared a lifesize portrait of His Imperial -Majesty Kaiser Wilhelm II--_gowned in long robes and coiffed with a -turban_. A gasp of astonishment broke from the peering spectators in -the dark room. Once more the "Saint" clapped his hands. The Imperial -figure walked in stately fashion straight towards the audience--seeming -that in another moment it would be walking out in the air over its -heads--stopped, stretched out its right hand, smiled. The muscles of -its face moved, the mouth opened--in a speech that none heard. "_Aie! -Aie!_" broke from the spellbound tribesmen. - -"Alas! that he is so far away that ye cannot hear his words!" lamented -the "Saint." "But I can hear them. He tells you to believe in me, who -am his messenger, by the grace of Allah and the Prophet. O Allah, -vouchsafe that these Thy followers may witness with their own eyes the -conversion of the vizirs to the true faith!" Again a clap of the hands, -and the picture on the wall changed. - -The tribesmen gazed at what to a Western eye would have been an -obviously cardboard imitation of an Oriental room with a dais on one -side of it. On that dais stood the figure in Moslem robes. Filling -the remainder of the room was a throng of men in German uniforms, -_pickelhaube_ on their heads. They advanced one by one to the figure -on the dais, knelt, offered up their spiked helmets, and received in -exchange a turban from their graciously smiling lord. - -"See, O people, and believe!" cried the "Saint." - -"_Aie! Aie!_" came the response. "We see and we believe! God is great! -There is none great but God, and unto Him be all the praise!" - -"Listen! O true believers! The Holy Prophet laid a command on the great -Sultan Willem that he should immediately convert all the Frankish -nations to the true faith. And the Sultan Willem gave glory to Allah -that this command was laid upon him. He sent forth his armies in the -great Jehad. The Sultan's armies are the most numerous and bravest -in the whole world--not Timur nor Rustum might have stood against -them--and none may count the number of their victories in the great -war against the infidel Franks. Their triumphs are as the rocks on -the hill-sides, beyond reckoning and eternal. All the nations of the -Franks fled before them, and were slain like dogs as they ran. And -most of all fled before them and were slain the insolent English dogs -that, thinking themselves far away from the power of the Sultan Willem, -are puffed up with a vain pride and tread upon the neck of the true -believer in the land beyond the Indus--nay, who invade your hills and -lay waste your crops, seeking to destroy the one true faith. Is it not -so?" - -"Allah knoweth! He speaketh through thy lips, O holy one!" was the -chorused reply from the darkened room. There could be no denial of any -statement from a source of such sanctity. - -"Look then upon the battle and the destruction of the English dogs!" -cried Abd-ul-Islam, giving the signal once more. - -Immediately another picture appeared upon the wall--a picture of -pseudo-British troops, uniformed so as to be familiar to the tribesmen, -taking up a position for battle. - -"Watch! O children of the Prophet!" cried the wonder-worker. "Behold -the djinns which the Sultan Willem has under his command--for to him -has the Prophet given the power of Solomon--behold the djinns that go -before the Sultan's army destroying the English infidels!" - -Great founts of black smoke leaped up among the soldiers on the -wall--debris was flung high into the air--bodies lay upon the ground, -visible where the smoke cleared. The soldiers fired quickly from behind -cover, dodged, flung up their arms, and fell smitten by an invisible -foe. The picture, though a "fake," was cleverly done and would have -deceived more sophisticated spectators. The tribesmen did not suppress -their exclamations of awe and wonder. - -"Behold!" cried the showman. "The soldiers of the Sultan advance!" A -serried line of German infantry swept across the picture, bayonets -levelled, and the survivors of the defending troops fled before them. -The line changed direction and marched straight towards the spectators, -an irresistibly advancing menace, swelling larger and larger, uncannily -silent. - -Shrill cries of alarm broke out from the darkened room. "_Aie! Aie!_ -Allah protect us! We are God's and unto God shall we return!" - -The line of infantry swelled to a superhuman immensity, seemed on the -point of reaching the spectators--and then there was darkness. - -From the gloom came the voice of the German emissary. - -"You have beheld, O children of the true Faith, the infidel English ran -like dogs!" - -"Like dogs they ran! With our own eyes we have seen it, praise be to -Allah! Death to the infidel!" - -"Now see the soldiers of the Prophet, the victorious army of the -Sultan, destroying the Christian mosques in the conquered country!" -announced the showman, in a voice of triumph. - -On the wall was thrown the picture of a Belgian village church. German -soldiers were busy about it. Then volumes of smoke began to issue from -the windows, tongues of flame. The roof fell in. The church was reduced -to a ruin. - -"Behold! Ye see with your own eyes!" - -"We see, we see! God is great! Unto Him be the praise!" came the reply -from the spectators. - -"Now see others!" cried the German. "This is the work of the Sultan's -armies--will ye now doubt that he has set his face against the -Christian infidels?" - -Picture after picture of ruined and desolated churches followed upon -the wall. The German authorities had evidently prepared a special film -of them. Cries of wild approbation broke from the fanatical tribesmen, -the mullahs loudest. - -"Once more, O people, look upon the English prisoners, whose lives -have been spared because they have embraced the true faith, being led -through the Sultan's capital!" - -A film of a few British prisoners from Gallipoli being marched through -the streets of Constantinople was then shown, amid shouts of applause. - -The picture was taken off, but the beam of light still blazed across -the room. The German placed himself full in it. - -"Ye have seen with your own eyes, O warriors of the hills! Praise be -to Allah for His mercies! Ye will no longer doubt. In the name of the -Prophet, the Sultan Willem, the protector of Islam, commands that ye -rise up and sweep beyond the Indus. Everywhere the power of the English -is broken. With your own eyes ye have seen it. Only on your borders do -they still keep up a vain show. Rise up, O children of the Prophet, and -sweep these dogs of infidels into the sea! The rich lands of India and -much loot will be the reward of your valour. Paradise awaits those who -fall in the sacred fight! The green banner of Islam shall wave over the -entire earth, for there is no God but God, Mohammed is His Prophet, and -the Sultan Willem is His chosen instrument!" - -Karl Schultz felt an inward glow of triumph at his own histrionic power -as, his words ringing sonorously through the stone apartment, he stood -in the full blaze of light and raised his arm. It evoked loud shouts -of fanatic frenzy from the excited assembly. They clamoured to be led -against the infidel there and now. He kept his arm outstretched as -though to still the tumult, as though his discourse were yet unfinished. - -But the cries would not cease. "Great is Allah! Death to the infidel! -Death! Allah! Allah! There is no God but God! Allah! Allah! Allah! -Death to the infidel--death!" - -Suddenly there was a new element in the vociferation, a movement among -the assembly far back in the dark room. "Make way for the holy man with -great tidings from India! Make way for the _Haj_! In the name of the -Prophet--make way, dogs that ye are!" - -Schultz looked towards the venerable figure of Muhammed Din pressing -through the throng. A sudden doubt leaped up in him, was extinguished -in self-confidence. The strange fakir approached. The wild clamour of -the tribesmen was stilled in curiosity. They fell back in a sudden awe. - -Schultz watched the venerable stranger advance solemnly, silently, into -the blaze of light in which he himself stood. Again he was conscious of -an instinctive tremor. "The peace of Allah be with thee, O _Haj_!" he -said, and he found that he had deliberately to control his own voice. -There was something uncannily impressive in the advance of this silent, -dignified old man. - -"And with all the faithful!" came the sonorous reply, enigmatic to the -German's ears. - -He found himself looking into a pair of strangely disturbing eyes; -heard, with a wild reeling shock of the spirit, his own tongue spoken -in a low, level Oriental voice. - -"Move not a finger and make not a sound, Schultz Sahib, or you are a -dead man!" Schultz Sahib's eyes glimpsed the muzzle of a pistol not six -inches from his chest. "_Smile, Sahib!_ or your friends may interrupt -us." - -Having once ceded to the menace of the pistol, the German's brain could -not resist the command of the imperative eyes that seemed to be boring -deep into him. He _smiled_--a deathly smile. - -"You have forgotten me, Schultz Sahib? It is not so long since we -worked together on the railway. One of us at least learned a great deal -about the other in those days, _Sahib_. _Smile!_--keep smiling!" - -A wild revolt surged up in the German, subsided, without exterior -evidence, under the glare of the dominating eyes which held his -fascinated. He tried to turn away his gaze, was checked by the level, -purposeful voice of the fakir. - -"Keep your eyes on mine, _Sahib_! Look elsewhere and you are dead -before you have looked!" - -He heard the words reverberating through him, endlessly re-echoing in -chambers of his soul magically open to them. He felt himself fixed, -immobile, in a strange paralysis of the faculties. The terrible eyes -looked into his that he could not close--he felt, as it were, waves -of immeasurable strange force flowing from them, rolling over him, -submerging him. And yet still he looked into the eyes of the fakir, his -own eyes an open port to their influence. - -A subtle, pervading odour ascended his nostrils, filled his lungs, -mounted to his head. His brain grew dizzy with it. And still the -compelling eyes held him, prevented him from turning his own eyes to -the source of the odour. He lost the sense of his environment, was -oblivious to the awed tribesmen staring silently at the pair in the -blaze of light. He saw nothing but the eyes--lost consciousness of his -own body. He stared--and lost consciousness even of the eyes at which -he stared. - -There was vacuity, oblivion, an annihilation of time--and then out of -that vacuity a voice commenced to speak. He heard it with a shock of -the nerves--it crashed through darkness with a mighty power. He seemed -suspended like a lost spirit in everlasting night, fumbling around the -vague yet massive foundations of the world--indefinitely remote from -all that he had ever known. He could not detach himself from those -foundations. They quivered under the booming voice, communicated an -unpleasant thrill to the core of him. An awful unimaginable disaster -seemed to envelop him. The tiny germ of consciousness that was still -his fought for extension, strove to see. All was blackness--blackness. -And still the voice went on relentlessly, driving through darkness, -like a ploughshare thrust forward by the firm grip of a mighty and -inexorable hand. Immeasurable results seemed dependent on its progress. -He listened to it--and as he focused himself on the listening, a dim -perception of his environment came to him. He was vaguely conscious -of a sea of faces, upturned, listening--as he himself listened. Those -faces--they were in some relation to him, there was a link between them -and him--he could not determine it. He listened. The words rang like -sounding brass, the vowels roaringly sonorous, the consonants clashing. -He concentrated himself on their meaning--penetrated to it suddenly as -through veils smitten asunder. - -"_Lies and again lies, O children of the Prophet! A mockery of lies! -The Sultan Willem is a servant of Shaitan who feigneth religion that he -may lure true believers to their damnation while they unwittingly serve -the Evil One!_" His perception leaped up, clawing at danger, and then -was dragged down again, engulfed. He felt himself like a man drowning -in black waters at night--down--down--and then, fighting obscurely, he -shot up again, heard the inexorable voice continuing: "_This magic you -have looked upon is a false magic--the magic of unbelievers in league -with Eblis!_" He heard the re-echoing denunciation in a spasm of full -consciousness--was suddenly cognizant of the sea of faces, of fierce -passions exhaling from it--was completely aware of the menace of utter -ruin. A great revulsion surged in him. This must be stopped--stopped! -The necessity for instant protest was an anguish in him. All of -himself that he could summon from the darkness as his own shrieked -the negative, and yet he did not utter a sound--knew that he did not. -"_Climb up into that box some of you, and ye shall find no magic but -a Frank there!_" He strained with all his soul towards the faculty of -speech--felt his powers vanquishing the spell of dumbness--on the verge -of utterance shaped his words of denial. "_Lo! have I not spoken the -truth? Yea, I cannot speak other than the truth, for I am the runaway -servant of Muhammed Din, and his sanctity hath broken the compact -between me and the Evil One!_" In staggering horror he realized--_the -voice was his own_! - -He stood fixed, incapable of movement, and saw--like a man that has -dreamed and cannot yet distinguish dream from reality--the mob of -tribesmen surging obscurely in the long stone room, saw the blinding -white eye of the lantern still shining steadfastly upon him--saw it -waver, swing from side to side, and then, with one last blinding flash, -disappear. In the utter darkness he heard shouts and shrieks and fierce -derisive laughter. He heard crash upon crash as heavy objects were -flung from a height at the other end of the room. He heard a piercing -yell, an agonized, appealing utterance of his own name. For a brief -second it shocked him into complete consciousness--_his operator_! -Then, ere he could break his invisible bonds, he felt a pair of cool -hands pressed tightly against his brow, over his eyes, and he relapsed -totally--with a last little gasp--into nothingness. - -He awoke again to see the tribesmen surging round him, fiercely -shouting. The room re-echoed with reiterated cries of "_Sharm! -Sharm!_"[1] and a howl that was so unmistakably for blood that it -chilled him to the heart. The room was lighter now--the rags had been -pulled down from the high loopholes in the wall. He saw Muhammed -Din standing before him, fending off his adversaries. He was still -incapable of voluntary movement. A great faintness swept over him. He -reeled back; found himself supported by the angle of the wall. He had -been thrust back there all unconscious of the movement. - -Dazed and sick, he heard Muhammed Din speaking. - -"O children of the Hills, Allah and His holy Prophet sent me to you to -rescue you from the snare of the Evil One. On me is laid the charge -of vengeance upon this wretch, who was my slave ere he became the -possessed of Shaitan. But this much of vengeance will I grant ye, for -this much is just. He made a mock of you. Make ye a mock of him. Let -him be driven out of the village, face tailwards upon an ass. The women -and children shall cry derision upon the runaway servant who came to -deceive you as a saint with the false magic of Shaitan!" - -Staring speechlessly before him, the exposed charlatan heard the howls -of approval of the mob. His faintly working intellect wondered how the -mullah was taking this deception--perhaps even yet---- He saw Muhammed -Din hold up a large bag of money. He recognized it with a last -hopelessness. - -"This gold"--Muhammed Din emptied some of it upon his hand--"this gold -hath my servant surely received from Shaitan. It is accursed unless -some holy man receive it. Therefore to you, O Mullah, do I give it." - -The mullah snatched at it. - -"Great is Allah and for the meanest of His creatures doth He provide!" -he said. "Thou speakest truth, O holy fakir. Praise be to Allah that I -am here to protect the faithful from the accursed magic of this gold. -As to this wretch, accursed of Allah, let him be driven quickly forth -as thou sayest, O holy one! It is meet that thy vengeance should not -have to linger." - -There was a rush at the fallen magician. He swooned into their arms. - - * * * * * - -Some little time later, when the last stone had been flung and the last -epithet of mocking insult had ceased to echo from the hills, Schultz -Sahib, his hands bound behind his back, his feet tied under the belly -of his mount, raised his eyes from the ass's tail that he had been -contemplating. - -"Thou hast won, O Muhammed Din--but even yet I do not understand. What -happened?" - -The fakir smiled. - -"Thou hast thy magics, Schultz Sahib--what thinkest thou of the magic -of Muhammed Din? Hurry, O Willem, hurry!" he cried, as his stick -descended with a resounding thwack upon the hind-quarters of the ass. -"Thou art laggard in thy invasion of the territories of the English!" - - * * * * * - -The Political Officer listened to the story, and, embracing hypnotism -in the studies of his exile, made a note of it. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 1: _Sharm_, a stain of dishonour that can only be obliterated -in blood. The conception that underlies the blood-feud.] - - - - -THE OTHER SIDE - - -A deep silence brooded over No. 3 Ward, Officers. It was late afternoon -in October, but the room was as yet unillumined from within. The two -long lines of windows that confronted one another--the ward was a -temporary hut-building--did so in a contrast of lights, the eastern -windows, backed by grey obscurity, reflecting broken beams of the glory -of gold and purple and fiery red that streamed in from the west. The -two lines of beds, the indistinct greys and whites of the ward, were -delicately touched by the warm glow where they rose into its radiance. -It picked out the short curves of the turned-back sheet, humped with -the recumbent form beneath, in an imponderable caress upon the broken -humanity that lay, desperately finite, under the splendour that knows -no final setting. A mingled odour of disinfectant and anaesthetic hung -in the air, explanatory of the dead quiet, of the heavy breathing that -was part of the silence. This was a ward of the severely wounded, -recently arrived. From the utmost climax of human effort, thunderous to -the ear, dreadful to the eye, maddening to the soul whether it exulted -triumphant over the menace of instant extinction or shrank appalled and -paralysed in the horror of brutal death, from the fierce superiority of -the unscathed killer, from the sudden shock, these men had come, many -of them unconsciously, by train and ship and train and car to the white -and green hospital on the empty moorland, to the hushed screened peace -of the bed-ranked ward. - -At the further end of the ward a Medical Officer stood in murmured -conversation with a Sister. He was outlined black against the radiance -of the sunset, but on her the glow fell fully illuminant, rosy upon the -starched whiteness of the coif and apron, touching the pale face into -faint colour. Her large, serious eyes rested upon him, attentive to his -instructions, glanced away to the patient in the end bed as he spoke. - -"Number Ten must be very carefully watched, Sister," he said, the -little smile upon his face indicative only of his confidence in the -quiet young woman before him, in no way minimising the gravity of his -words. "I am afraid we are going to have a very hard fight for him. But -we mustn't let him slip through our fingers. We'll keep him on this -side if we can." - -She assented with a nod of the head, and a long deep breath that was -clearly a sigh. He scrutinised her sharply. - -"You have something on your mind, Sister. No bad news, I hope?" His -voice was very kind. "Captain Hershaw is all right?" - -The Sister's engagement was generally known in the hospital. - -The large eyes opened, revealing a mute, long-suffered anxiety. - -"It is more than a week since I heard from him, Doctor. I am -afraid--horribly afraid," she said in a low voice. "This terrible -fighting----!" - -"The post is sometimes held up during active operations, Sister. You -must not be prematurely anxious. A week is not very long. You must -believe in his luck. He has had a charmed life so far," the M.O.'s -kindly smile emphasised his reassuring tone. - -"He has--he has. And life always seems so--so vivid in him. I cannot -imagine him"--her voice sank almost to inaudibility--"dead." - -"Don't!" He smiled, full of sympathy. "Believe in his star." His tone -changed to the professional. "Would you like to go off duty, Sister? I -will speak to the Matron. A car is going into town. Go and look at the -shops." - -"No--no, Doctor, thank you very much. I won't leave my dear boys here. -Poor lads! it does me good to fight for them--almost as if----" she -stopped, turned away. - -"Very well, Sister. Send for me if any change occurs in Number Ten." - -The M.O. walked down the ward, throwing little glances at the silent -patients, and departed. - -For some little time the Sister busied herself noiselessly about the -ward. Then Number Ten stirred uneasily in his bed. - -"Sister!" he called in a faint voice. - -She was by his side in an instant. - -"A drink, please!" - -She gave it him, looked down on the young, strongly masculine features -as he drank, with an interest that was subtly, unconsciously more than -professional. From the moment of his arrival in the ward--even in his -silences--Number Ten had been a personality. Though powerless in bed -there was a curious hint of brute force in him. - -"Now you must go to sleep again, Captain Lavering," she said, smoothing -his pillow. - -"I can't, Sister." His eyes closed and opened again in a spasm of pain. -"I--I want to feel someone near me," his voice was very weak, "to get -hold of life again. Sister, sit beside me--for a moment, please." - -She glanced at him irresolutely, smoothed the hair from his hot -forehead with a cool hand, and then acceded to his request, seated -herself on the chair by the bed. - -"But you mustn't talk!" she warned him. - -"I won't, Sister!" He was quiet for a moment. "Sister! I'm very bad, I -know--but I'm not going to die! I won't die--I won't let myself die!" -Despite his weakness, there was intense will-power in his tone. - -"Hush, hush! Of course you are not going to die." Involuntarily, -she laid her hand upon the bed as if to transfuse some of her own -life-force into him. - -He reached out a hand, grasped hers, resisted her attempt at withdrawal. - -"Please!--please!" he murmured. "I want to hold on to life--there's so -much----" His eyes closed sleepily. "I feel life flowing into me," he -said. The grip on her hand was tight. - -For a long time she sat thus, her hand clasped in his. Number -Ten slept, with heavy breathing. It seemed to her that his fever -diminished. She feared to withdraw herself lest she should awaken him. -The long ward was deathly still. - -Presently there was a noise of footsteps. An orderly approached, -changing his gait to a clumsy tip-toe in obedience to her gesture. - -"A telegram for you, Sister," he said. - -She glanced at the patient, essayed to release her hand. It was firmly -held in the sleeper's grasp. - -"Open the telegram, Thomson," she said in a whisper. - -The orderly obeyed, handed her the drab piece of paper. - -She took it, glanced at it, nodded a speechless dismissal to the -orderly. - -"_The War Office reports that Ronald is missing believed killed -Hershaw._" - -The words branded themselves into her brain as she sat there fixed, -immobile. She could hear them in the wailing cry of the widowed mother -who had written the telegram, but her own voice seemed to her for -ever dumb, never to break this crushing silence. She stared--with dry -eyes--straight before her. The obsequial lights of the departed sun, -framed by the window opposite, were extinguished one after another. She -did not stir, was unconscious that her hand was still in the grasp of -the wounded man. "_The War Office reports_----" It was like staring at -a high, closed door. - -An immeasurable time passed before an orderly entered, switched on the -electric light, drew the blinds. She roused herself, found the grip -upon her hand relaxed. She rose--with tight lips and burning eyes, went -about her duties. - -That evening it was by an effort of will, sternly administered, that -she sat at table in the Sisters' messroom. She scarcely ate, was deaf -to the feminine chatter around her. One of the sisters, a notorious -flirt, joked her upon her loverlike posture with Number Ten. The -orderly had evidently talked. Sister Braithwaite did not reply. As soon -as possible she fled to her little matchboarded cubicle. - -By her bedside was a photograph of a clean-featured young man, with -intellectual eyes, more than ordinarily vivid in their expression. She -kissed it passionately--"Ronald! Ronald!"--the loved name came from the -depths of her. The merciful tears fell fast, her bosom heaved. - -She slept with a packet of letters pressed tight against her warm body. - - * * * * * - -She heard her name called: "Mary! Mary!" in a startlingly familiar -voice. She heard herself reply: "Ronald!" It was very dark. Where was -she? Ah, by the stream. It seemed queerly natural that she should be by -that stream. It was not so dark after all--only twilight. Twilight with -dark woods coming down to the stream. Her name was called again: "Mary! -Mary!" her lover's voice impatient. Again she heard herself reply: -"Ronald! Where are you?" "Here, dear! On the other side! You must cross -the stream." - -Of course! She must cross the stream--that was quite natural--and there -was a little footbridge, offering passage. She went over, not daring to -look down. On the other side she waited. He was not yet visible. She -wondered what suit he would be wearing, wondered why she wondered. He -came towards her, his clothes curiously more conspicuous than his face. -He was clad in his old tweed suit, and mysteriously it seemed odd to -her. Yet what else should he be wearing? It was the suit he always wore -when out for a walk. She glanced at her own clothes with a subtle sense -of strangeness, yet it was her old summer frock she wore. This little -puzzle about clothes played itself out in cosmic depths of her, receded -or was solved, vanished. Her lover was standing at her side, enfolded -her. - -"Mary! I have been so anxious about you!" - -She looked up to eyes that seemed like stars in the twilight. - -"I, too, Ronald--I have been worrying about you." There was a sense of -something terrible in the background, imminent, and yet she felt it had -been with her for a long time. It ceased. "But everything's all right -now--I have found you." - -A little glimmering something in the depths of her asked why she said -that, seemed to repeat doubtfully: "Found you----" in a long, eternally -re-echoing voice. She felt eerie. It was as though her existence was a -duplicate imperfectly combined, like the double vision, half running -into each other, of badly adjusted binoculars. - -"I am so glad you are safe, dear," she heard herself say. - -"Let us go and hear the nightingales," he said in the voice so -ringingly his own. He drew her along the path in the twilight, his arm -about her waist. - -Nightingales? Now? Of course, why not? The season was early June--what -was the silly half-thought submerged beyond the horizon of her mind? - -She allowed herself to be impelled by the pressure of his arm. Closely -linked, they followed the tenebrous path by the wood, climbed skirting -its dark edge. Her lover talked copiously and interestingly as he -always did--on a multitude of subjects. He was humorous, satirical, -rhapsodic, earnestly eloquent by turns. How like him it was! She -admired the wide range of his mind. Much more easily than usual--she -realised it in a little glow of self-flattery--she comprehended him all -through a long and intricate disquisition. Yet lurking somewhere in her -dream-consciousness was the feeling that there was an all-important -topic on which he did not touch. A part of her tried to identify that -topic and failed. The failure worried her. He talked of travel, of -a trip into Germany through the Black Forest, across Lake Constance -into Austria and the Tyrol. Of course! That was to be their honeymoon -tour. In the days before--before what?--before something--they had -often talked about it. They were not even officially engaged then--she -remembered how they used to laugh together over these distant projects -that were treated as imminent facts. They had even had a little -quarrel over the choice of two alternative stopping places. She came -back to his voice. - -"Listen!" he said. "Listen!" - -A nightingale was singing with supernatural power. Loud, thrillingly -resonant under the stars that now powdered the sky, the song welled -out to them. Its burden, mysteriously comprehended by them to esoteric -depths, was sorrow--the sorrow of all the world, here completely -expressed, transmuted into so strange a beauty that the listener held -his breath. The deep sobs, shudderingly repeated, that threw off the -magic runs of crystal sound, pervaded the atmosphere about them with -a mystic spell, evoked an immense pity in them. They could have wept. -Suddenly they were conscious of a perfidy in this magically induced -compassion--a danger, common to both, implied in it, imminent. He flung -his arms about her to protect her, shielding her from it. - -"You are mine, dearest!--mine!--only mine!" - -His words went ringing through the stars, passed out of hearing, -but were not silenced. She felt kisses of intense fervour upon her -mouth--responded. - -"I am!" she cried. Her words also rolled away endlessly, as though -permuted into imperishable brass. "I am yours alone!" - -She half-woke in the feeling of a near presence, then sank again into a -sleep that remembers not its dreams. - - * * * * * - -She awoke in the morning obsessed by the baffling sense of an -occurrence she could not recall. Then the memory, the realisation of -her loss flooded in on her--harshly predominant in those first empty -moments as yet unlinked to the distractions of the day. She wept, -uncontrollable tears. "Ronald! Ronald!" she cried in a low voice, her -face buried in the soft pillow. Then she remembered. Her tears were -checked. The details of her dream opened one by one, stirred in her a -curious, subtle fear she felt unworthy of her. The vividness of it woke -an atavistic emotion, the shrinking reaction of primitive humanity from -the influence of those dead to this world. Yet a more recent growth in -her tried to glory in the contact--impelled by an obscure sentiment of -duty. "I do love you, Ronald!" she murmured again to the pillow. "I am -yours alone!" The saying of the words seemed to merge her dream-life -into unison with the actual. - -There was much to do in the long, freshly-aerated ward that morning. As -one by one each bed had its sheets turned back, exposing the gashed, -perforated or fractured bodies of men who winced with pain, the crude -other side of war was laid bare. Into strong relief, too, was thrown -the complementary phase of the other side of the vast catastrophe where -the noblest are proudly conscious of the wounds they inflict. With -tender care, the utmost solicitude not to cause one unnecessary pang of -suffering, the khaki-clad doctors, the grey-uniformed, white-coifed and -aproned nurses, laboured to save and heal. - -Sister Braithwaite thrust herself utterly into her daily task of -dressing wounds, of soothing pain, of bringing a cheerful smile on to -the face of the sufferer. - -So doing, she eluded for quite long periods the obsession which haunted -her. - -Number Ten was once more the focus of interest in the ward. His -condition had grown worse during the night. To-day he was in a -dangerous fever. The doctor was grave. Sister Braithwaite watched over -him with unremitting care, found herself passionately fighting off -death. In the early afternoon the crisis passed. He woke from a quiet -sleep, looked up to the Sister standing by his bed. - -"You have saved me, Sister," he said in a weak voice. "I could feel -it----" - -"Hush, Captain Lavering. Go to sleep. We are all trying to get you -well." - -"It was you," he said faintly, as his eyes closed once more. - -The silence of the ward was suddenly broken by a merry peal of bells -floating in through the open windows. In the little village church -tucked away in a near-by hollow of the moor a wedding was being -solemnised. Sudden tears, a strange emotion, surged up in Sister -Braithwaite. - -A case that had made good progress was removed from the ward, a -newly-arrived, severely-wounded man brought in. - -"If only it were Ronald!" The neat, prim figure of the Sister, -supervising the orderlies busy lifting the casualty into the bed, gave -no indication of the desperate agonised prayer. - - * * * * * - -She dreamed. - -"----Mine at last, my beloved--really mine!" The familiar voice -thrilled through her, very close, overhead. - -"Yours! Always yours!" she heard herself murmur. - -She took her head from the darkness that obscured her vision--it was -his coat against which she had been nestling; she saw the little white -touzled-up hairs of the rough tweed ere her gaze stretched to longer -focus. She looked to his face, met his vivid eyes--looked round at her -surroundings. - -They were alone in the first-class compartment of a railway train -that rocked and roared. His lips were pressed on hers. "The great -day, dearest!" he said. Her mind leaped to the allusion. Their -wedding-day! They had been married that morning--she could hear still -the joyous peal of bells--were going away on their honeymoon. The -tweed suit he wore was quite new--something like the old. She was in a -travelling-dress that he had already admired. Of course! It all came -back to her as if she had just awakened from a little sleep. - -The train rushed on. She lived through all the cinematograph-like -pictures of the journey. A halt and descent--little anxieties about -the luggage--then--after an interlude which was vague--another -train, another long journey--all was a continuous long experience. -She thrilled at a surreptitious squeeze of his hand--ah, yes, there -were other people in the carriage now--rounded her lips at him in a -provoking similitude of a kiss, daringly profiting by the inattention -of their fellow-travellers. A yearning for him--induced by the naughty -little act--filled her breast, persisted. There was bustle, confusion. -They were in a throng of travellers who hurried. Hurry! They must not -lose the boat. It lay there before them, only its upper works seen, its -two great funnels leaning backward, belching black smoke. The black -smoke spread over the sky. It was night. They were on board the boat, -cradled in an easy motion, sensible of the throb of the engines. On -and on they journeyed, linked in a very close communion of eyes that -spoke, of hands that squeezed each other. She tasted a thousand little -kindnesses. How good he was! How loving! - -And still the journey went on. Yet more trains. She must have slept. -She woke to a great city, filled with innumerable inhabitants, all -very busy. They spoke a strange language very rapidly to one another. -She could not understand a word. But he, Ronald, understood--conversed -with them in their foreign tongue. How clever he was! There was music -somewhere--from a lighted cafe that flooded a damp street with radiance. - -She was bewildered in a variety of new and strange impressions, leaned -on him, soul and body. He led her, sure of himself. Her love for him -seemed to increase at this revelation of his unfailing self-reliance. -Yet she knew that she loved him with all her being, had always loved -him so. - -"And how do you like Brussels, dearest?" his ringing voice asked. -Brussels? Of course! As though a veil had fallen from her eyes she -saw that they were in the middle of the Grand' Place, lights playing, -Rembrandtesque, on the carved stonework of the ancient buildings. She -recognised it at once--how accurate the picture postcards had been! -Brussels--the honeymoon journey! She thrilled with happiness, leaning -on his strong arm. - -The dream continued----. - - * * * * * - -All through the next day its vividness haunted her. At times she had -to will herself to live in the actual world. She scarcely spoke. The -Medical Officer in charge of her ward stopped her, asked her if she -were all right, his eyes searching her face. He sympathised with her in -her loss so kindly and gently that she loved him for it. - -Number Ten was still the great preoccupation. He claimed incessant -care. But he was in the faint beginnings of good progress. Strangely, -it seemed that when she tended him there was a conflict in some obscure -part of her. There seemed to be an inarticulate voice, immensely -remote, vaguely minatory, not explicit. Captain Lavering insisted that -she was his rescuer, his eyes more eloquent than his words. It made -her feel awkward, curiously shame-faced. His reiteration threw her out -of that smile-armoured impersonal professional relation to the patient -which alone makes continuous hospital work possible. She masked her -face with a gentle severity. When he slept she was unreasonably glad. -But she liked tending him. The contact with actual life, pain-stricken -though it was, obliterated to some extent the haunting memory of that -dream world from which she shrank, vaguely frightened. - -She forced herself to live only in the long, quiet, bright ward; in the -chattering society of the Sisters' messroom when off duty. - - * * * * * - -Her dream linked itself onto its predecessor. The honeymoon was -finished. She looked back down a long vista of travel, of happy days. -She had really lived through all those experiences. She picked them one -by one from her memory like rare pieces from a jewel-case, contemplated -them with a smile. Each expanded into a picture. The day they had -walked together down the rugged path of the tiny valley imprisoned in -the wooded hills, a fierce little stream outpacing them as it dashed -against great boulders, and had come upon a sunny meadow where children -garlanded with flowers laughed and danced in a ring; a wonderful blue -lake on whose shores were yellow houses with red roofs and ancient -cypresses on a greensward near the water's edge--the melancholy -reiterated note of a church bell beat like a pulse through the scene; -an old, old town with gabled houses leaning in close confidence, rich -carvings--the grotesque; in all was a pervading peace, rich quiet life -that thrives sleepy with well-being from year to year; over all was the -ecstasy of mutual love through which they had beheld the world. - -Another memory came to her--early morning in the Alps, a sea of wild -narcissi all about them and, beyond, the great white peaks glittering -in the sun of a blue sky. They went on and on, up and up. The flowers -were left behind--and she remembered she had regretted leaving them, -had grudged the effort to climb for the sake of climbing--but he had -insisted. They stood at last high up, dazzlingly white snowfields -stretching away on every side, a summer sun beating hot upon them. -The air was rarefied, induced in them a subtle ecstasy as they stood -marvelling at the brilliant austere beauty of the great peaks lifting -themselves into the sky, their robes slipping from their rocky -shoulders in a miracle of purity. He encircled her waist with his arm, -spoke in the voice that stirred mysterious depths in her. - -"Dearest," he said. "Not a flower but snow is the true emblem of -love. White as the essential soul, how soon on the lower levels it is -defiled, disappears! But on the heights it endures stainless for ever, -no matter how hot the kiss of the sun." - -And she had kissed him, speechlessly. - -But all this was past. She was at home now, waiting for him to come -back from his work. Their home, the home they had always planned, was -all around her. The very pieces of furniture they had regarded in shop -windows with longing eyes, had calculated the cost of, were there. -That quaint old table in the centre of the room, half covered with the -embroidered openwork white linen laid for tea--how covetously they -had once looked on it! How depressed they had been at the dealer's -price! But it was there, after all. Ronald had bought it, he who never -rested until he attained his heart's desire. How purposeful he was! How -strong! How loving-kind! She closed her eyes, leaned back in a swimming -ecstasy of love. - -There he was! She heard his footstep at the other side of the door. -He entered, was radiant, enfolded her in that wonderful embrace where -she was a surrendered thing. He had a little parcel, handed it to -her. Tremblingly she opened it, certain of delight. It was a framed -enlargement of a photograph they had taken that morning in the high -Alps. With a little happy cry she gazed once more on the long smooth -slopes of snow, stretching up to the dark-patched peaks. Once more his -arm encircled her, his deep voice spoke. - -"So shall we live, darling, always--ever upon the heights." - - * * * * * - -She lay awake in her bed, ere it was day, and understood in a great -tremulous awe. In her dreams she and Ronald were living precisely the -life they would have lived had there been no war. The honeymoon--their -home--all would have been accomplished ere this. Had there been no war! -Exactly as she had dreamed they would have travelled together--his arm -would have enfolded her--in long, long happiness they would have lived. -She burst into a passion of tears, stifled in the pillow. Then she -turned her head, wondering, feeling as if her heart had stopped. Would -this dream continue? Was it--in some mysterious way--_real_? Her lips -moved in a prayer, but she scarcely knew what she prayed. - -She was glad to escape into the busy actual life of the ward, into the -light of day. - -From now onwards her life definitely assumed this double phase. - -In the hospital she was the Sister Braithwaite that all had known, -diligent, bravely smiling, conscientious in her duty. Those about her -remarked only that there was sometimes a curious stillness in her mien, -spoke pityingly among themselves of the sad loss of her soldier lover. -But death in a hospital is no rare catastrophe and none lingered on the -topic. There was much to do, a continual stream of new arrivals from -the distant conflict, the doubtful fate of many of those already long -suffering. There were deaths, recoveries, operations of professional -interest. - -Number Ten went slowly but steadily towards health. Sister Braithwaite -deliberately avoided all contact with him save the professional. -When she chatted with a patient in the ward it was not with him. His -gaze was reproachful, and she would not see it. Sometimes when she -approached him he would, half-jokingly, reiterate that she had saved -him. She would not hear. A strange sense of insecurity disturbed her -in his presence. She half divined that he nursed a project----. She -fled the glance of the steady, resolute eyes in the strong face. -When at last he had made such progress that he could be removed to a -convalescent ward she was glad at his departure. - -At night she passed into another world. There was no war in that -life--never had been war. From dream to dream she lived through a -continuous existence--the wife of Ronald. It was all vividly real. It -was the life they would have led--it played itself out now in what to -her daytime consciousness was a realm of shadows. Not always did she -dream, or rather not always did her consciousness register the events -through which she passed. But later dreams had dream-memories in them -and the record had no gaps. Time passed in that dream-world without -relation to the terrestrial days. In one night she frequently lived -through long periods. He was always kind to her, always loving. She, -too, loved him passionately, with all her soul. - -But in the daytime her being shrank from that shadow-life. She was -afraid--mysteriously, primitively afraid. She could not mourn as -she would have liked to mourn. Sometimes she asked herself whether -she was not ceasing to love her dead affianced. She tried to evoke -his image--and often, to her distress, succeeded not. The strongly -masculine features of Number Ten, Captain Lavering, rose before her -mental vision, would not be banished. Then she despised herself -bitterly. In remorse she willed herself forward to the night, bade -herself not shrink, and when the hour came gave herself to the darkness -tremulously, like a slave of the harem who goes into the chamber of -her lord. The portal passed she was happy, completely happy--as happy -as she would have been the wife of Ronald in the dainty little home -that never could be other than the home of her dreams. With strange, -almost terrifying, completeness the shadow-life evolved. The house she -lived in she knew in all its details, had its rooms that she preferred, -views from its windows that she loved or veiled. The presence of her -husband was a reality that filled it. She knew his footsteps, heard -his voice. (It rang often in her ears when her eyes unclosed in the -little matchboarded cubicle suddenly unfamiliar.) They had long, long -conversations together--wonderful little interludes where their always -underlying love blossomed into delicate flower. She saw his face -clearly, saw that it was changing slightly, growing more set, less -boyish. There were difficulties--the difficulties of real life--to be -encountered. An anguished struggle with bills and finances that would -not meet wrung her soul all one night. She pledged herself to such -brave economies! But the difficulties were overcome, the memory of them -lost in the embrace of her lover. Rarely, rarely was she unhappy until -she woke. - -And day by day, not keeping pace with her other life, her life of work -in the hospital went on. Week linked into week, month into month. The -great open moors around her changed their hue, were often shrouded in -mist. In December the first frosts glassed the pools. Many were the -patients who had come and gone. The little cemetery under the hill was -fuller. Other sufferers were more fortunate. Captain Lavering was fully -convalescent, nearing his discharge. She saw him often at a distance, -avoided him when he tried to approach her. She could not have explained -why, even to herself. Somewhere deep down in her, the virility of -his aspect set a chord vibrating. She was always extremely, almost -painfully, conscious of his propinquity. For many weeks they had not -exchanged a word. - -There came a night wonderful above all others. She thrilled with -a strange new ecstasy, drawn from deep springs. It was the quiet, -speechless ecstasy of some mysterious fulfilment. She was filled with -a great tenderness that welled up and overflowed like a source. There -was something warm against her heart. She looked down and saw that it -was a newborn babe. She was in bed. Then, in a great surge of deeply -flowing joy, she understood. She was a mother--the mother of Ronald's -child! She could have cried for joy that lacked expression. Her fingers -stroked thin silky hair on a tiny head. - -Suddenly she was aware that Ronald was looking down on her. She yearned -up to him, but as she did so she was conscious that her allegiance was -divided. Not all of her, as heretofore, reached out to him undividedly -his. There was a dumb insistent claim at her breast. She smiled to -disguise it. - -But it seemed that he understood. His face was troubled, the vivid eyes -reproachful. He leaned over her. - -"Dearest," he said. "I cannot share you. The child must never be more -than the symbol of our love. You must be mine--always mine. Promise me -that you will always be mine alone!" - -His jealousy flattered her. A gush of affection for the strong lover -admitting her power, mingled with the mother-craving for protection for -self and child, was a fresh impulse revivifying the old allegiance: - -"Always yours, dearest--always yours!" - -He looked at her searchingly, his head seeming like a carven figure of -destiny, strangely significant. - -"I could annihilate the thing that comes between us," he said, -and she was a little frightened at his voice. It rolled away big, -superhuman--she harked back, in a flitting thought, to an earlier -dream-memory. - -He turned to a picture on the wall, pointed to it. It was the Alpine -scene. - -"You and I," he said. "Always together--alone upon the heights." - -"Yes! Yes!" she said, only half understanding. "Always--always yours!" - -She woke with a start, her own voice ringing in her ears. Night was -still a blackness in the little cubicle. She put out her hand, touched -the matchboard wall to assure herself of her surroundings. - -When she woke again it was to look through the window and see the world -white with snow. She remembered with some pleasure that she was off -duty, had the day to herself. She wanted to be alone. Her head was a -whirl of troubled thoughts. The emotions of her dream were still in her -blood. Her arms felt vacant as though an infant had just been taken -from them. A new longing came up in her--a craving for motherhood. She -linked it to her dead lover. "Oh, Ronald!" she murmured. "If only we -had been married before you went to the war----" she left the thought -unfinished. The craving persisted, apart from his memory. She ached -for a real, living affection in this world of men and women. Strange -thoughts haunted her while she dressed. - -As soon as possible she escaped from the hospital, went out upon the -moor that stretched in suave contours of dazzling white. A pale -blue sky sank into its mists. A cold wind hurried over it, whirling -up little columns of dusty, frozen snow. She walked far into its -solitudes, she hardly knew whether to escape from her thoughts or to be -alone with them. - -At last she turned back. She had climbed out of a little hollow, -was descending a featureless slope when suddenly she perceived the -figure of a man, dark against the snow. He walked towards her quickly. -Simultaneous with her recognition of him was the flush of blood to -her face, a peculiar nervous thrill. It was Captain Lavering. She -half hesitated. Then she strode forward, an insidiously victorious -temptation masquerading as strong will. Why should she not pass him? It -was absurd. He might think----. She hoped that she was not blushing, or -that the keen wind which fluttered her veil would be the self-evident -excuse. - -They met. He stopped, made a gesture of salute. - -"Good morning, Captain Lavering." She was glad to hear her own voice, -had been afraid that she could not bring it to utterance. What -was there so troubling about this man? She avoided his eyes. "I'm -pleased to see you walking about again." The crisis was successfully -surmounted. She made as if to continue her way. - -"I saw you in the distance, Sister," he said bluntly. - -She did not find the commonplace remark for which she sought. He -blocked her pathway. - -"I have been waiting to speak to you for a long time, Sister," he -continued, as though he knew there was no necessity for a trite -beginning. "Ever since you saved my life. You did--we won't discuss -that." She stared at him, speechless. "But I have waited until I was -sure that I was quite well again. You know what I am going to say. For -a long time you have felt what was in my mind. You must be my wife." - -He was strong and real--vividly actual. She felt as she did sometimes -when her eyes opened from a dream into the solid surroundings of her -cubicle. He barred off the other world. - -"No--no," she breathed, dodged past him, hurried over the snow. - -He was by her side, keeping pace easily with her. - -"You can't escape me like that," he said. There was obvious brute -masculinity in his tone. Though she tried to resent it, it did not -displease her, and she was angry with herself that it did not. "Listen. -I am a plain man. There is no fancy romance about me. I don't want -illusions. But I love you." He stated the fact with absolute decision. -"I can offer you a good position and all that, but I know that does not -affect the matter. The vital thing is that from the moment we set eyes -on each other something happened----" for the first time he faltered in -his tone. "We both knew it. There it is. I hate being sentimental. But -I want you--and I know that you want me." - -"No--no!" she said again, almost running. A blind desire to escape, -from herself as much as from him, dominated her. "I--I can't." - -"Can't? Why not? You are free. I know you were engaged. But he -is--gone. We live in a world of flesh and blood. You can't exist on a -memory. Besides," the words came like a slave-driver's whip--she almost -obeyed it--"you never loved him as you love me!" - -She revolted, stung to burning resentment against herself equally as -against this masterful, crude male. She stopped and faced him. - -"Captain Lavering, you talk like a sick man." She triumphed in the -steadiness of her words. "You have insulted me in the most uncalled-for -manner. Let that be enough." - -His eyes looked into hers, challenged her sincerity, were assured of -it. He went red, looked awkward. - -"Forgive me," he mumbled. - -She went on without a word, ignored the fact that he accompanied her. -They breasted an upward smooth slope of snow that stretched up to a -crisp, clear outline against the blue sky. He ventured a sidelong -glance at her, a little light of primitive cunning in his eyes. - -"Quite Alpine, isn't it?" he said. - -As intended--his tone implied a resumption of ordinary commonplace -relationship--the words took her off her guard. But he was ignorant -of their esoteric significance. In a flash, in a deep convulsion of -the soul, she saw the Alpine picture, vivid with symbolism, of her -other life. "--On the heights!" In the full poignancy of the emotion -it unlocked--her own vow of fidelity ringing in her ears from another -world--she found herself struggling in a man's tight grasp, hot -breath upon her face, lips seeking her own. "You must! You shall!" he -muttered, straining forward to her. She stiffened, fought in a frenzy. -"Ronald! Ronald!" she cried. - -An icy wind swept down the slope, smote upon them like a breath from -the grave, shudderingly cold. Captain Lavering uttered a little cry, -relaxed his grip, and fell sideways upon the snow. - -Sister Braithwaite stared at him in horror. A great fear came upon her, -an awe in the presence of unearthly power. _She knew!_ Her soul slipped -back into its dream-state, confronted the visage of her lover, stern as -destiny. The eyes judged her, forgave. Then, weeping hysterically, she -ran towards the hospital. It was not far distant. - -They brought in the dead man. - -"H'm," said the Medical Officer, looking at him. "Cerebral haemorrhage. -This intense cold---- I was always rather afraid of a lesion. A nasty -shock for you, Sister. Well, well, another one finished--very sad, very -sad." - -An orderly brought Sister Braithwaite her share of the just arrived -post. There was a letter from Ronald's mother. It enclosed one from the -War Office. - -"Dear Madam," it ran. "It is regretted that no further details have -come to hand regarding your son. Officially he is still posted as -'missing, believed killed.'" - -Sister Braithwaite shut herself in her cubicle, talked to the -photograph with the vivid eyes, talked to it as primitive woman talks -to the lover who has destroyed his rival. She reached out to the Other -Side. - - - - -NA NOS! - -(_A study of Serb infantry in battle, 1914_) - - -There is no moon. In black darkness a long file of men stumbles up a -stony gully. Precipitous rock-walls keep them to the bed of a vanished -stream, where they trip in succession over the same loose boulders. -Their curses are hushed instantly by voices not less authoritative -because they bark in whispers. Wrapped in long sheepskin coats the -figures pass like ghosts of an antique time, whose grimness is -accentuated by the incongruity of modern rifles with fixed bayonets -that glint under the myriad stars. Presently the head of the file halts -in what seems a black pit, the edge of which cuts sharply against -the star-powdered bluish darkness of the sky. Those behind arrive -continuously, collect in the hollow, are formed into ranks by sergeants -who bully _sotto voce_ like angry conspirators. The company commander -is crawling on hands and knees up the wall of the hollow, which is not -so precipitous as it appears in the darkness. - -The captain peers cautiously over the crest. He sees only blackness -which rises all around him from an abyss that reflects no ray in its -profundity, and blots out the stars high in the sky with irregular -cones and shapeless masses of inky night. From those mountains a -wind blows chilly on his face. He fixes his gaze upon a point in the -blackness far across the gulf. The point is decided upon after careful -reference to a phosphorescent compass in his hand. He stares at this -blank darkness until it almost seems that he must be staring against -closed lids. - -Suddenly in the gloom at which he strains his eyes, he perceives a -pin-point of light. It flickers for an instant and then projects itself -in a ray of intense brilliance widening from the point of origin, right -across the gulf. It falls in a great oval of blinding whiteness upon -the hill-side to his right. Its hard white glare is painful in its -brutality. Everything outside the ray is swallowed in a blackness where -even the stars are lost. The white oval on the hill-side moves slowly. -It brings into vivid relief a long line of loosely piled stones behind -which lie, in many attitudes, the motionless bodies of men. Some, -which have fallen across the heap of stones, throw grotesque shadows, -intensely black. The white oval stays its slow progress, vignettes -them from the night. In the centre of the picture one of these figures -stirs, raises itself upon one elbow and rubs its eyes stupidly like a -man wakened from sleep by the sudden glare. - -Instantly a group of sharp reports, multiplied by rapidly reiterated -echoes, breaks from the distant blackness. The figure sinks quickly, a -dark hole visible in the ghastly whiteness of its face. The oval begins -to move again, assuring the men who lurk far back in the night that -this uncompleted shelter-trench is held only by the dead. - -Suddenly the light is cut off. The stars reappear in a sky that seems -strangely pallid. The mountain masses silhouette themselves more -definitely than before against their tenebrous background, the outlines -of the high summits, where some snow still lies, picked out in a grey -that has just the faintest tinge of yellow. From the black gulf below -eddies of mist boil up like steam from a mighty cauldron, veiling the -shrinking stars. A wall of fog rolls along the hill-side, blots out the -mountains and the sky. - -The captain turns instantly and calls down an order in a carefully -restrained voice. The company in the hollow springs up and over the -crest with the agility of born mountaineers. They follow their captain -at a quick pace into the bank of fog. Behind them is a murmur of -voices. The other companies of the battalion are coming up, deploying -rapidly into line when they reach the crest. The first company has -halted for a moment to allow time for their arrival. Seconds are -precious. At any moment the cloud may roll away, expose them to the -glare of hostile searchlights and a storm of bullets. In two long lines -the battalion moves briskly down the hill, leaving the unfinished -shelter-trench upon its right. Behind, another battalion is coming up -in support. - -Some way down the slope the infantry breaks out of the mist. They open -their files and slacken pace, dodging nimbly from one to another of the -boulders which glimmer in the twilight. Overhead the searchlights move -uneasily in long pale bands against the paling sky and fall upon the -fog-belt in white circles as upon a magic-lantern screen. The infantry -is not yet discovered. It works stealthily but quickly forward, aiming -at a lower ridge that rises before them. They seem alone in the narrow -mountain-valley that begins to reveal itself in the dawn, but their -officers know that to right and left of them other battalions are -likewise creeping forward. They reach the ridge, halt and lie down upon -its slope, wisps and wreaths of mist blowing over them. - -The searchlights are extinguished--when, it is hard to say. The sky -is now a translucent ultramarine where no stars are left, and against -which the mountain peaks stand out in vivid orange. White fog patches -wander over the dark lower faces of the hills. The infantry creeps -cautiously up to the summit of its ridge and, like one man, peeps -over. In front of them is a mountain-wall that goes back at an angle, -leaving a great gap. Another ridge, parallel to their own, starts from -the mountain-side and drops away to the left. Its foot is lost in a -sea of fog. Between them and that ridge the ground drops into a ravine -and then mounts in a smooth _glacis_ to the further crest. A little -below its summit the loose boulders, which are everywhere sown over -the ground, are disposed in a long regular grey line. The officers of -the battalion give the range to that line--750 yards. The infantrymen -snuggle down behind boulders and inequalities on the crest and adjust -their sights. There is a general loosening of sheepskin coats, a tinkle -of cartridge-clips laid in readiness, and then the line lies still, -waiting, its bayoneted rifles slid back out of view. - -Far back the infantry brigade commander is lying upon his stomach upon -the height to the left of the wrecked shelter-trench. The fog-belt has -moved off. He has a clear view from ridge to ridge. Suddenly he takes -his field-glasses from his eyes and picks up a telephone receiver at -the end of a long line trailing over the ground. He speaks a few words -into it, replies shortly to mysterious enquiries that emanate from -the far distance, suggests a number of metres in thousands. Almost -immediately the shriek of a shell passes overhead and the report of a -cannon-shot comes echoing along the valley, arrives in a succession of -distinct shocks to the ear. Ere the echoes have died away another shell -screams past, followed by its series of reverberations. The infantry -brigadier is watching the distant ridge through his binoculars. The -line of boulders is faintly visible. The first shell bursts above it -and beyond; the second bursts short. The bracket is too wide. The -brigadier speaks again through the telephone. Another shell wakes weird -noises from the mountains as an accompaniment to its own shriek. It -bursts just in front of the line of boulders above it. Through his -glasses the brigadier sees the splash of shrapnel bullets upon the -rocks like twinkles in quick whiffs of dust. He speaks two brief words -into the telephone. A flight of shells rushes overhead like a covey -of screaming spirits and with an enormous roll of thunder arrives the -roar of a battery in rapid action. Its reverberations roll and clash -endlessly, surging from side to side of the valley in confused waves of -violent sound. The long line of boulders is suddenly whelmed in a cloud -of dust that renews itself as fast as it drifts into the air. From -one end of that cloud spurt tiny points of flame, and shriek crosses -shriek in the air above, whilst a series of sharp crashes mingles -with the continuous roar. Quick puffs of white smoke appear in groups -against the blue sky. In the unfinished shelter-trench spurts of dust -leap up around the bodies of the dead men who lie behind the boulders. -A battery of guns has been pushed up into the infantry line over there -on the hostile ridge and, unobservant of the menace close at hand, is -spending its fury upon the trench that it wrecked overnight. - -The firing line upon the intervening ridge lies quiet in its -concealment. Its officers have no wish to provoke a _rafale_ from a -battery protected by tall stone sangars. Intently they watch the sheets -of dust that spurt up high over the line of boulders like the beat of a -rough sea against a breakwater. They mark where the long thin tongues -of flame shoot out ceaselessly in reply, spitting at a distant target -far behind them. They communicate these observations to the battalion -commander who is smoking a cigarette in an attitude of ease a little -way down the slope. A man close to him commences a series of quick, -jerky gesticulations with a pair of flags held stiffly at arm's length. -No flags wave in reply, but, far back, the brigadier at the telephone -speaks. A great shell rushes overhead with the roar of an express -train. A moment later the officers upon the ridge see a sudden eruption -of flame and rocks in the centre of the line of boulders. They send -another message down to the signaller. Another shell hurtles through -the air, another explosion shoots upward, this time nearer to the -spitting guns. Where the fumes drift off, great holes, in which there -is a scurry of tiny figures, are visible in the shelter trench. Wide -grins open on the faces of the Serbian firing-line as they draw their -rifles close to them and finger the triggers. They understand fully -the value of artillery support. Again and again the volcanic eruptions -spout into the air with an appalling detonation that breaks heavily -into the rolling echoes which fill the valley. Two of them leap up -suddenly from the very midst of the dust-cloud where the battery is at -work. There is a fountain of flying rocks dark in the centre of the -flame, and in the colossal roar of the explosion a brief, acute note of -human agony comes like a high-pitched discord mingled with a thunderous -bass. A moment later the line of guns is revealed, naked to attack. A -few men are seen darting with short movements about them. Three out of -the six eject a tongue of flame at short intervals. While they fire, -a pale gleam flickers along the Serbian ridge as the bayoneted rifles -are thrust forward, and with a long dry crackle a sheet of bullets -leaps out at the wrecked battery. The sun rises over a shoulder of the -mountains and a band of golden light spreads downwards, illuminates the -flying clouds of dust in which figures can just be seen frantically -endeavouring to turn the guns in the new direction. They are picked -off one by one with deadly aim. Above the trench the shrapnel bursts -incessantly, a new shower starting ere its predecessor has reached -earth. - -Along the Serbian ridge the sheepskin-clad figures lie in snug -safety and pull trigger with chuckles of satisfaction. There is no -excitement, only a keen savouring of primeval emotions that can now be -given rein. About them dance quick spurts of dust and bright splashes -of nickel appear upon the rocks. An irregular rifle fire is coming from -the hostile ridge. One or two shells burst overhead and then the guns -fall silent, are forgotten. The company on the right starts suddenly to -its feet, dashes over the crest and down the slope. The rifle fire from -the other ridge changes in character, welcomes them with rapid, violent -claps. A couple of machine-guns strike into the din with a continued -rapid and resonant hammering, nerve-racking in its persistency. Men in -the running line throw up their arms or pitch forward here and there, -but the company is lost to sight almost immediately on the rock-strewn -hill-side. The men dart forward from boulder to boulder. Behind them on -their left other companies are descending in quick succession towards -the ravine. - -At the other side of the ridge, in rear, the second line of the -battalion is coming up in support, and behind them the other battalions -of the brigade are streaming forward, unhindered as yet by artillery -fire. It is a brief respite, however. In a moment or two a distant, -unseen battery has got their range, flings shell after shell to burst -over their heads and fall in a spreading cone of bullets. The brigade -advances with quick onward dashes by battalions that spring up, race a -hundred yards and disappear for a breathing space among the boulders. -Gradually they draw into the shelter of the intervening ridge, and -battalion after battalion tops it and moves down to the aid of those -in front. A strong firing-line remains on the crest, keeps up a steady -stream of bullets against the long grey line still whelmed in dust by -an unceasing hail of shrapnel. The brigadier ensconces himself in a -rock shelter at the end of this firing-line, the telephone receiver -still ready to his hand. - -The first line of the attack has now reached the ravine. The men -seize hold of tiny shrubs that grow out at overhanging angles and -swing themselves down, scrambling over loose stones and sliding sand. -A hail of bullets is beating upon them from the trench above and -from a line of supports that has come into action higher still. The -machine-guns hammer with an appalling energy that knows not fatigue. -Where their aim is directed the sand spouts up as though struck by -an air-blast from a hose. In that ravine the first line is more than -decimated. Men stumble and fall upon their own bayonets. Corpses, -hanging limply, weigh down the shrubs. With fierce shouts the survivors -scramble onward. The second line has caught them up, is mingled with -them. The battle-madness seethes in every head; each bullet that -strikes harmlessly upon the earth is a shock of stimulation to already -hyper-excited nerves. They lose their identity, lose the instinct -of self-preservation in the flood of an older instinct which blinds -them to all but the hazards of the ground, and sweeps them forward -like demented animals frantic to assuage a thirst that consumes -their tissues. A savage cry breaks automatically from every throat; -the blood-congested brains, that permit the action of the muscles, -unconscious of it. They reach the bottom of the ravine, not very deep, -and clamber up in the comparative security of the other side. - -At the foot of the smooth slope which reaches to the dust-whelmed -boulder-line, their officers halt them by orders, entreaties. The men -lie down and open a rapid, irregular fire against the trench. More men -arrive behind them, frenzied with excitement. They attempt to rush -upward, are pulled back by officers, or are struck down quickly in the -rain of bullets from the trench. The rifle-fire up there comes now in -one long rolling crackle through the cloud of dust that flurries in -answer to the continuous crashing of the shrapnel. The fire of the -attack increases in sporadic bursts. - -On the ridge behind, the brigadier speaks a few brief words into the -telephone. A minute later the shrapnel ceases to burst over the trench. - -In the disordered crowd of men that lies at the foot of the slope is -a commotion that defies the efforts of the officers. In vain do they, -knowing what is about to occur, endeavour to form a regular line of -attack up the ravine, as, from those who are still swarming down the -other side, arises one hoarse, savage cry that dominates the crash -of rifle-volleys. It is the battle-cry of a primitive people that -spontaneously clutches its primitive weapon in this awakening of its -oldest instincts, this plunge into the aeon-old chaos where man thirsts -for the blood of man. "Na Nos! Na Nos!" comes the cry from a thousand -throats, reiterated endlessly by frenzied men whose faces are deathly -white or inflamed with blood. "Na Nos! Na Nos!" from parched mouths, -from dry, cracked lips the shout issues, overpowering the orders of -the officers. The bloodshot eyes that protrude with wild hatred at -the trench no longer see those officers. It is a savage horde merely, -in which the modern military hierarchy is lost, obliterated by an -intensely individual lust to slay as their ancestors slew. "Na Nos! Na -Nos!" "With the knife! With the knife!" What matters it that the knife -is at the end of a rifle? It is still a knife, the primordial weapon. -With an angry roar, the mass, no longer to be restrained, rushes madly -up the slope. - -With an answering crash the rifle-fire from the trench leaps to a -climax. The men up there are firing for their lives. In the horde upon -the slope is an appalling massacre. Heedless of it, blind to it, the -mass surges upward, happily forgetful of the cartridges in their own -rifles, mindful only of the blade that gleams at the muzzle. They see a -line of faces, white behind countless spurts of flame. With one fierce -roar they hurl themselves upon them. Men in grey-blue spring up and -dash away or turn and run at them bayonet to bayonet. The attacking -line howls in the joy of butchery--"_Na Nos!_" - - - - -PER LA PIU GRANDE ITALIA! - - -The hot sun of a morning in early summer beat down upon the narrow -street of a little North Italian town. Down the long, confined vista -of colonnaded shopfronts, hung with striped awnings of warm hue, -the air quivered above the cobbles, troubled the view of an arched, -square-turreted gateway which barred the street. The sky above was -a long strip of intense azure. Sharp to the left, near at hand, was -the roughly-paved piazza, white-fronted Venetian-shuttered houses -looking out to the large round basin, the weather-worn Triton, of -the fountain where the pigeons, flashing in the sun, circled down to -drink. A group of girls, bare-armed, black-haired, skirts turned up -over vividly-coloured petticoats, water-jars underneath the gush from -the Triton's mouth, or poised already upon the graceful head, stood -laughing and chattering about the fountain. Their gaze was unanimously -turned towards the large building, the words _Palazzo Municipale_ over -its arcaded front, which occupied one side of the square. Carved on -that front, beneath the clock, defaced but not entirely obliterated, -might yet be made out the double-eagle of Austria--a memento of a -tyranny that had fled before a passionate patriotism, to entrench -itself, not far distant, high on the crag and glacier of the eagles' -haunts, ready to swoop. But not to that did the merry, whispering girls -dart their flirtatious glances. The two grey-uniformed Bersagliere -sentries, strutting up and down before the building, superb under the -drooping cocks' feathers of their grey-covered tilted hats, were for -once immune. A handsome young officer, black-moustached, dark-eyed, who -stood, one foot upon the running-board of a car that hummed ready to -start, in conversation with another officer, was the point of interest. -Both officers, clad in the grey field-service uniform, wore upon -their arm the brassard which indicated that they were of the Staff. -The officer on the point of departure wore the badges of captain; he -who was giving him his final instructions was a _tenente colonello_ -(lieutenant-colonel). - -"You quite understand what the General wants, don't you, Ricci?" he -said, using the familiar "_tu_," universal between Italian officers. -"As soon as possible after the position is captured, a report on its -possibilities for field artillery if we can advance to the covering -ridge. The General thinks it will command the valley road up from the -railway. You will see. Don't get buried under an avalanche!" - -"Very good, colonel. I quite understand." He saluted--a quick movement -of the hand horizontally below the peak of the kepi, palm downwards, as -though shading the sight, in the Italian fashion--and jumped into the -car. He pushed to one side a heavy fur coat, settled himself. A moment -later the car was humming out of the square, spinning down the long -colonnaded street. - -In front of him loomed the heavy mediaeval gateway, square above its -arch. Its ordinarily forbidding gloomy aspect was lost in a generous -decoration of green boughs, a trophy of Italian flags, red, white and -green, above a white-crossed shield, a great inscription--"Per la piu -grande Italia!"[2] The battle-cry of Italy's greatest modern poet--the -cry that had rung beseeching, dominating, inspiring, through dithyramb -after dithyramb of the wonderful passionate orations by which he had -wakened the glowing soul of the people into flame, was blazoned here -as everywhere in Italy. Under that gateway thousands of Italy's sons -had marched to conflict with the _Tedeschi_, to the redemption of their -brethren; thousands more would march. And those to come would shout -as those who had gone had shouted: "_Per la piu grande Italia! Evviva -Italia!_" The captain, glancing up at it ere the car shot under the -dark arch, carried the inscription marked upon his brain through the -obscurity. Familiar enough, he reperceived its meaning with a thrill. -What mattered the little individual life he was hurrying to risk? "_Per -la piu grande Italia!_" - -The car sped along a road on the left side of a pleasant valley. In -front, immediately claiming the eye, a range of Alpine peaks, dark -rock-scars breaking their dazzling whiteness, exquisitely delicate and -fine-drawn as perceived through the warm atmosphere, towered in lofty -austerity into the rich unvarying blue of the sky. The road, thick with -dust, climbed towards them in long loops and bold curves. Close upon -its left, dark woodland descended, masking ever and anon the distant -prospect behind a shoulder of the hills. To the right, across the green -valley where the cattle stood hock-deep in flowers, village after -village--yellow-ochre and burnt-red, its slant-roofed campanile high -above the flat houses--clustered itself upon an eminence or nestled -low down to the valley stream. Viewing the scene of quiet bucolic -prosperity it was difficult to imagine that among the silent peaks in -the background lurked the terrors of war; men embattled for mutual -destruction. - -Along the road creaked and squealed clumsy country-carts drawn by oxen -with patient heads bowed to the yoke. They hoofed the dust with the -unhurried motion of centuries of tradition in their toil, careless -of the goad of the barefooted _contadina_ crying them to hasten, to -turn aside to allow passage for impatiently hooting motor-lorries. -In strange contrast of locomotion, column after column of lumbering -mechanical transport rushed down from the mountains in a smother of -dust and petrol-fumes. Column after column proceeding upward was -overtaken and passed by the captain's car. Ever in front towered the -range of glittering peaks, in unshakable, eternal calm. Yet from -somewhere among their solitudes came a distant, faint roar that was not -the roar of nature's thunder. - -The road had climbed high. The valley was narrower. The orchards -sloping to its stream were white with fruit-blossoms. The air was -rarefied but still hot under the direct rays of the sun. The dark -woods of oak gave place to darker woods of pine. The road swept round -in sharp curves on low-parapeted stone bridges above a rushing torrent. -Bare green slopes, strewn with grey boulders, opened between the woods. -The car overtook a long marching column of Alpini crunching the dust -under heavily nailed boots, pack high upon the shoulders, alpenstock -as well as rifle, sweating profusely yet pressing upwards with quick -step, the eagle's feather in their soft hats still jaunty. It was the -rear battalion of a brigade whose units were successively overtaken and -passed. - -The road swung to the right round the head of the valley which here -commenced in a sheer drop. As the car followed it there was a sudden -spurt of flame, a drifting tawny smoke, in the dark depths to the -right. A tremendous, shattering detonation that re-echoed endlessly -down the valley ceased at last, leaving audible the eerie moaning of -a great shell speeding upwards over the mountains, already far away. -Another such flash and detonation followed the first. Looking over the -side of the car, the captain perceived, deep down, the long barrel -of a monster gun nosing upwards, men tiny about it. A second gun was -depressed, a crane-slung shell hovering near its breech. Once more -there was a crash--a series of distracted conflicting echoes that -shattered the Alpine silence as thick glass is starred and fractured. -In the sky above the valley an eagle beat the air with heavy, violent -wings, startled into a vertical climb, and then glided swiftly with -outstretched pinions downwards to its crag. - -The road still ascended, left the valley, climbed tortuously a rocky -spur, thinly grassed. The car took the gradient slowly, noisily, on -second speed. In front, struggling on the brow of the spur, a column -of "caterpillar" tractors drawing the component parts of a battery -of heavy howitzers distributed on trucks rattled and detonated like -machine-guns in full action. The battery personnel, harnessed to -long ropes, hauled and strained at the leading piece in an effort to -facilitate the passage of the steep crest. Before the war the boldest -artilleryman would have scouted the possibility of such heavy ordnance -at this height among the mountains. But the battery was only entering -upon the area of its severest toil. - -On the crest of the spur the road turned to the left, climbed at an -easier angle. The view, hitherto much masked by closely overhanging -slopes, opened out. To right and left the gaze plunged into blue -depths, fell on miniature woods and thin white strips that were roads. -Far away on either hand the mountain ranges lifted themselves, superb, -into the blue sky. But directly in front the higher peaks were not -seen. A sheer wall of dark rock barred the view as effectually as it -seemed to bar further progress. - -At the foot of the precipice was a stationary column of motor-lorries, -tiny by comparison with the towering mountain. The road went straight -up to it. The captain in the car bestirred himself, picked up his -heavy fur coat. Far away and high above was a prolonged rumbling roar -that seemed to re-echo from invisible walls in the upper atmosphere. -Involuntarily the captain raised his eyes. The blue sky was untroubled. - -Upon the face of the rock--which leaned back less precipitously than -had appeared--swarmed hundreds of grey-uniformed engineers. They were -laying a pathway of heavy timber, erecting huge sheers, arranging a -complicated tackle of thick rope and large pulleys. Back along the road -the first of the heavy pieces for which this hoisting apparatus was in -preparation lumbered already into sight. - -This tackle was not the only feature on the precipice. A little further -along, at the centre of the line of lorries, a light cantilever steel -standard was connected by drooping wire ropes to the summit. Suspended -from those ropes by a running-gear of pulleys a little car was gliding -steadily upwards, another coming down. It was the _Teleferica_--the -famous wire-rope railway, that, many times multiplied, made modern war -possible at these high altitudes. - -Ammunition in boxes was being unloaded from the lorries, stacked on the -roadside near the _Teleferica_. The downward-gliding car was seized -by a group of waiting men, steadied, stopped, quickly loaded with the -boxes. - -The staff-captain's motor drew up. He descended, walked towards the -_Teleferica_, exchanged a salute with the dapper little ammunition -officer superintending the work. - -"_Buon' giorno, signor capitano_," said the little lieutenant. "Are you -going up to see the attack?" - -The captain nodded. - -"Ah! Some people have all the luck! I never see anything. My battery -never has any casualties--and here am I left supernumerary. I might as -well be mountaineering for my pleasure!" He drew a lugubrious grimace -of comic, half-sincere self-pity. - -The captain struggled into his heavy fur coat, apparently superfluous -here in the fierce heat which glowed from the rock in the noonday sun. - -"A glass of wine before you ascend, _capitano_!" said the lieutenant. -"Come, I will take no denial!" - -He led the way to a little wooden shack close under the lee of the -precipice. Within, the walls were decorated with a number of scathingly -satirical drawings of the _Tedeschi_; some extremely clever studies -of the mountains in their different aspects of light--sunset and -dawn, moonlight. The host, perceiving the captain's glance, made a -deprecatory gesture. - -"What I am reduced to, _signor capitano_! And I might be blowing the -Austrians out of their eyries!" He was typical of that new Italy which, -while it cannot cease to be artistic, holds all of small account that -is not war against the Austrian. He filled the glasses, raised his own, -half turned to a portrait of Gabriele d'Annunzio that shared with the -King the honours of the wall. "_Per la piu grande Italia!_" - -"_Per la piu grande Italia!_" Both officers drank the toast. "To-morrow -morning she will be a little greater if the fates are kind," added the -captain. - -A few minutes later he was lying full-length in a narrow low-sided -cage, suspended from a pulley on a thick wire-rope, and being hauled -up, with much creaking and strident protest of the pulley-wheel and -vicious jerking of the loose rope, to the summit of the cliff. - -There he was again in a scene of activity. Broad-shouldered porters -in frayed and much-worn Territorial uniforms were bearing away the -ammunition boxes that had arrived at the summit, carrying them towards -the next station of the _Teleferica_. The captain followed in their -track. - -The wire-rope railway ran in short sections from station to station. -The gaps between the sections--stretches of comparatively level -ground--were filled by the sturdy Alpine porters or, in the case of -longer distances, by pack-mules. It was the line of communications -to the sector of the front immediately ahead--a front that for the -most part of 450 miles is thrust out amid the eternal snows of lofty -mountains, along the edges of deep chasms, upon the knife-ridges of -_aretes_, across the Arctic desolation of glacier and _neve_. Over it -was transported food and ammunition, light guns, clothing, equipment, -all the necessaries for an army in action. By it descended the wounded -and the sick, the unwanted stores. - -Over section after section the staff-captain passed, ascending higher -and ever higher towards his goal. About him rose the great peaks, their -robes of snow dazzling white under the sun, splendidly superior to -the ragged army of stunted pines that sought to climb them, last lost -sentinels straggling half submerged in the snow. Up sheer rock-faces -whence birds of prey darted frightened from their nests, over deep -chasms where he looked down to a dark profundity of pines and rushing -streams, over great empty fields of snow far away beneath him on -which zigzagged long lines of tiny black figures insignificant in the -immensity, bearing burdens, upward and ever upward to the regions where -snow and ice reign in eternal winter, the _Teleferica_ bore him. And -ever between the stations there were throngs of busy men, more and more -thickly clad at each successive height, who marched under heavy loads. - -Always there was a thunder rolling among the mountains. From apparently -inaccessible crags dark against the blue, from bare snow ridges, from -bleak white wastes where there seemed nothing to detain the eye, -spurted little darts of flame, drifted faint smoke. Detonations came -in sharp direct cracks, fantastically re-echoed; in a long rumbling -angry mutter from the more distant guns. From steep mountain-sides, -avalanches, loosened by the concussions, rushed downwards in a white -smoke of flying snow, their thunders rivalling the persistent artillery. - -The staff-captain dallied not. The bombardment which was to prepare -the way for the attack had already commenced. He hurried over the -intervening spaces between the wire-rope stations, ascended higher and -ever higher in the little dangling cages. - -It was afternoon when he reached the limit of the _Teleferica_--a -little snow-covered hut on a desolate ledge. Here, sheeted down from -the weather, stacks of supplies awaited further transportation. It was -the depot of the quartermaster of the battalion holding the sector. An -Alpino soldier, thickly clad, was in waiting to act as guide. - -The staff-captain borrowed an alpenstock from the quartermaster and -set out. In front of him stretched a great smooth slope of snow that -ascended until, high above him, it cut--in sharp contrast--across the -blue of the sky. Its whiteness was blinding--the captain fitted on a -pair of darkened spectacles. Far across it, dark dots strung like beads -on an invisible thread, a company of soldiers was marching in a long -single file zigzagged over the snow, climbing to the crest. Nearer at -hand to the right, vivid spurts of yellow flame shot out from mounds of -snow aligned at a little distance from each other. The detonations of -the battery came crisply to the ear, predominant over the rumble and -roll and confused echoes of the general bombardment. - -As the captain followed his guide up the vast empty slope he heard a -long plaintive whining in the air, descending a scale of tones. It -had not ceased when over to his right a great fountain of snow leaped -skywards from the field--subsided leaving a smother of dirty smoke. -The whine finished in an ugly rush, a muffled detonation. Another and -another followed, in each case the visible effects of the shell's -explosion preceding the noise of its arrival. The Austrian batteries -were replying. - -The echoing thunder of the bombardment continued all through the -dreary fatiguing climb up the slope of snow. The higher peaks began to -throw long blue shadows across its whiteness, their argent heads to be -suffused with gold. - -The ridge to which they climbed was not, after all, the summit. There -was another, yet higher, whence splintered crags serrated the sky. -They reached it, stood among rocky pinnacles. - -"_Attenzione, signor capitano!_" said the guide. "It is dangerous to -linger!" - -Followed by the captain he swung himself round a jut of rock, dropped -into a trench excavated deeply in the snow. As they dropped a couple of -ugly "_phutts!_" just above their heads explained the warning. - -The Alpino grinned. - -"Tirolese!" he said. "We could have gone round by a safer way, _signor -capitano_, but their snipers do not often hit if one is quick." - -The deep trench, in cold blue shadow through the gilded surface of the -snow, descended the ridge at a gentle angle to the summit. It emerged -into another trench that ran roughly parallel to the ridge. This was -filled with soldiers who, well below the high parapet, larked with -one another, threw snowballs, wrestled and laughed. They were keeping -themselves warm during their enforced wait. Every one of them was -garbed in a thick white outer coat, with a hood. This was the main -trench; these were the men who presently were going to attack. - -On steps cut in the parapet stood sentries, peering towards the enemy. -The captain ceded to an impulse of curiosity, interrupted his hurried -progress towards the battalion advanced headquarters, mounted to the -side of one of these sentries, looked out. - -About him was a sea of mountains, their lower flanks in cold blue -light, their snow-covered peaks orange against the azure sky. -Immediately in front of him were the nearly submerged stakes, the -snow-thickened upper wires, of wide entanglements. Beyond them -stretched the confused, humped and fractured white surface of a high -glacier. On the other side of it was again a snow ridge, and in front -of that ridge could be discerned a belt of wire entanglements--the -enemy's. In the midst of that entanglement, and all up the snow to -the ridge, leaped fountain after fountain of white snow, momentarily -brilliant against the sky, falling back into a persistent cloud of dark -smoke. The noise of the explosions overwhelmed the roar of the guns -behind. The preparatory bombardment was in full swing. - -Warfare in the high Alps, with their difficult communications, is -necessarily carried on by comparatively small bodies of men. The -vast masses of the Western and Eastern fronts could not possibly be -maintained among the crags and glaciers of the Italian frontier. -Operations by single battalions have all the importance of a divisional -attack elsewhere. In this case one battalion had been allotted the task -of storming and retaining the enemy's position. - -In the little low timber hut sunk beneath the snow-level which was -the battalion headquarters, the captain found the colonel commanding -the regiment in conference with the local commander and the company -leaders. The atmosphere of the cramped interior was thick with -the exhalations of the half-dozen men, warm with the heat of a -petrol-stove. Capitano Ricci saluted the colonel, was received affably. -A pair of keen eyes under level brows appraised him, smiled upon him. -For his benefit the colonel recapitulated. - -"The plan is briefly this. The artillery is cutting the wire and -shelling the trenches immediately in front of us. The Austrians of -course will assume that we are going to attack there. They will keep -strong reserves at hand in the vicinity--as strong as they can, for -we know that there is no very large force opposite. The artillery -is making it difficult to bring up the reserves from the rear. All -their communications are under fire. Now, we hope that the enemy will -concentrate on the damaged trench in front of us. The attack is being -made by four companies. One company will advance at 9 p.m., using -every precaution not to be seen, and will cross the glacier at an -angle to its right. It will fall upon the enemy's trench here"--he -indicated a spot on the left of the enemy's position as marked on a -plan spread over the table. "It should effect a surprise as the enemy -will be far from expecting an attack on a part of the line which has -not been bombarded at all. Directly that attack gets into the trench -it will turn to the left and continue to press on as hard as possible. -If it is progressing well it will send up a green rocket. If it is in -difficulties it will send up a red rocket. The second company will -advance to within about a hundred metres of the trench that has been -bombarded. There it will halt. If matters go as I expect them to, the -company on the right will send up a green rocket. Then the Austrians, -realising that they have made a mistake, will rush up their men from -the damaged sector and put up a resistance. The green light will -be followed by a red one which will automatically indicate that the -enemy's reserves are engaged. _Whenever that red light goes up_, -whether preceded by a green one or not, the second company will rush -the trench in front of it. I hope that it will find it thinly held. -The third company will advance, with every precaution, at 9.30 p.m. -in support of the second company. The fourth company I will retain as -general reserve under my command. The men will be served with hot cocoa -at 8.30 p.m. Is that quite clear, gentlemen?" - -There was a general murmur of assent. The staff-captain requested -permission to advance with the second company, the one that was -attacking straight ahead. He received it. - -The conference was at an end. Officers went out to give final -instructions to their subalterns, came in again, beating powdered snow -from their huge fur coats. One and all looked like Polar explorers. - -Presently orderlies entered, put a steaming hot meal upon the -table. Crowded closely together in the confined space, the officers -ate--talking and laughing in high confidence, though in all was the -tension which precedes the moment of action. Occasionally during the -meal they heard the dull thud of an Austrian shell's arrival. They sat -over coffee and smoked. - -At last the colonel looked at his watch, stood up. - -"It is time to go to your companies, gentlemen. I rely upon all of you -as upon myself. I have promised the general that the trench shall be -taken--and held. _Per la piu grande Italia!_ And good luck to all of -you!" - -Some time later the staff-captain found himself by the side of the -company commander in the deep trench hewn through the snow. It was -night and in the faint reflected radiance of the white walls he could -just dimly discern the figures of a long line of men, all garbed -in white like himself. Only when their heads moved did they detach -themselves from their surroundings. Overhead, above the crisp line of -the parapet, the sky was a black background for an immense multitude of -strangely brilliant stars. A wind raised little whirls of powdered snow -upon the lip of the parapet, blew down into the trench in chill gusts -that penetrated the clothing. Not a sound broke the intense silence. -It seemed almost that one could hear the crackle of the sparkling -vivid stars. The artillery bombardment had long since ceased. There -was nothing to suggest that a death-dealing enemy was hidden only -eight hundred metres away across the glacier. No sound came from the -company that had already advanced. Along the trench was a murmur of -conversation, stifled laughter. The company commander stood gazing at -the luminous dial of his watch. - -9.15! He turned his head, gave a command in a low voice. - -"_Avanti!_" - -It was repeated in a low murmur to right and left. - -In an instant the company commander, the staff-captain at his side, -had sprung up on to the parapet. A bitter wind smote upon them from -the darkness, chilling to the bone. The commander glanced back, saw -his men like a line of ghosts faint in the dim light, already over -the parapet. Then the company commenced to thread its way through the -openings previously cut in their own wire. - -Stealthily, with the utmost precautions to avoid any unnecessary sound, -the company stole across the uneven, heaped and riven snow and ice of -the glacier. Under that black night of stars it stretched away white -to a near indistinctness. The black masses of the mountains occulting -the stars near the horizon were too indefinite to indicate direction. -Compass in hand, the commander counted his paces over the snow, his -only means of judging distance. For greater accuracy the staff-captain -counted also. They spoke not a word. From the obscurity came the -whispers of the men as they preserved a rough alignment. - -Sliding, stumbling over the inequalities of the frozen surface, they -pressed onwards. Somewhere over to their right, higher on the glacier -in front of them, the other company was advancing also. There was -neither sound nor sign of it. In that dim desolation the staff-captain -might with difficulty see his immediate companions. The remainder of -the company was swallowed up, was noiseless. It seemed that they were -stumbling on alone--on and on, an interminable distance--a few lost -figures struggling through an Arctic night. - -Suddenly from the blackness straight ahead a beam of intensely white -light shot out horizontal with the ground, sweeping it. At its first -birth-splutter they flung themselves upon the snow, lay motionless. -The searchlight--a wall of milky radiance to one side of them, -suffusing the snow with a pale reflection--then, as it shone full on -them, a lane of intolerable light from a blindingly violent source, -casting long pitch-black shadows from every hump and hummock of the -ice--swept questingly over the glacier, rested doubtfully here and -there for a moment, passed on again. The Austrians were on the alert. -Cautiously, still repeating to himself the number of paces they had -marched when they dropped, the staff-captain glimpsed to right and left -of him, looking for the company. The nearer figures he saw, immobile, -their white humped backs looking like inequalities of the snow. Those -more distant were utterly indistinguishable. The searchlight ceased -abruptly. The world was annihilated in a profound blackness where the -stars reigned alone. - -The two officers rose to their feet, marched onward, resumed their -count of the paces. To right and left of them rose ghostly figures, -stumbling forward. On and on they went, bruising themselves on sudden -obstacles in the black night, the dim uniform whiteness of the snow a -bewilderment to the vision. Far away in the mountains of the Austrian -position a livid flash leaped to the sky. The reverberation of a -gun's discharge rolled heavily and ominously to their ears, the long -hurrying whine of a shell approached them. There was an instant of -suspense. Were they after all discovered? The shell passed overhead to -burst far behind, inaudible. The trench in front was invisible in the -darkness--not a flare, not a rifle-spurt marked its position. - -"Seven hundred!" Both officers murmured the number at the same moment. - -"_Alt!_" The whispered order was passed to right and left. The line of -ghostly figures sank down, was merged in the ice and snow under the -twinkling stars. "_Baionett' cann!_" There was a faint rustling, a just -audible click and clink of bayonets being fixed. Then again silence. -The company might have ceased to exist. - -The company commander and the staff-captain gazed earnestly to their -right front, towards the point where the other company should be -attacking. At any moment now! Their comrades had a quarter of an hour's -start, had a rather longer, more difficult stretch to traverse. But -they should have reached their objective. At this moment stealthy -white-clad figures should be crawling among the stakes of the -entanglements, snipping at the wire. The two officers stared in the -fateful direction--in suspense for the up-flung flare, the shouts and -stabs of flame. They stared at complete obscurity. - -The searchlight on the trench in front leaped out again to the night, -its origin startlingly close. This time as it swept over them, it -illumined the short heads of the stakes of the wire entanglement that -cast black shadows on the snow which all but submerged them. They were -very near. In the intense light the white craters of the shell-holes -produced by the afternoon's bombardment, hung with broken wire from -supports all askew, gleamed like craters of the moon seen in uncanny -proximity. Once more the light swept the glacier, searched doubtfully -and was extinguished. - -A sudden shot, off to the right front--a swift succession of loud -reports--woke wild echoes from unseen cliffs. High up on the glacier, -to the left of the Austrian position, flare after flare was flung into -the sky, eerily illuminant, plucking strange rock-forms into grotesque -relief. There was a fierce shout that rolled in repeated reverberation, -a wild tumult of voices in a crisis of human lives, confused shots, -isolated and in irregular volleys, the dull thudding explosions of -bombs. The first company was attacking. - -The two officers lying in the snow gazed with fixed intensity towards -the distant fight whose tumult swelled louder and louder with every -moment. The wild flares continued to soar into the night, but as yet -no rocket--neither red nor green--had leaped up to tell them of its -fortunes. The searchlight in front shot out again, swept quickly -from side to side. It illumined only the apparently empty, tumbled -desolation of the glacier. But it continued to blaze out into the -night. Both officers cursed it under their breath. From the trenches -they had left, far behind, rifle-shots rang out, the rapid hammering -of a machine-gun. The reserve company was indulging in a little tricky -target-practice at the searchlight. It was successful. The beam of -light vanished. - -At the same moment a little spark of trailing fire went rushing -skywards from the tumult of the flank attack. It was watched with -suspended breath--green or red? The rocket burst into an effulgence -of uncanny green light. The cheer which came from under it was like a -ghostly utterance of the cheer repressed on the lips of the men lying -prone and motionless on the glacier. The colonel's forecast was sound. - -But now the uproar on the flank increased to a wild intensity. -Incessant were the sharp detonations of the rifles, the dull thuds of -the bombs, mingling with a clamour of voices, shrieks and yells. No -more flares went up from the point of conflict, but from all along the -trench they soared into the air, symptomatic of the nervousness of -the unseen defenders. Machine-guns began to rap out their streams of -bullets in blind hazard across the glacier. - -The staff-captain pressed himself close to the snow, overhead cracked -the rapid bullets of the Austrian machine-guns. The wind that blew -over the glacier, ruffling the loose surface snow on to his face, was -intensely cold. He felt himself a heavy leaden thing, frozen stiff. -Over to his right front the savage noises of the contest, weird and -awe-inspiring on this summit of the world that seemed so uncannily near -to the flashing stars, swelled hideously cacophonous. Livid bursts of -flame flickered and were reflected redly on snow surfaces, on black -jagged spires of rock. All along the trench the blindingly white flares -leaped upward, another soaring as its predecessor circled down in a -parabola that illumined the unearthly confusion of the glacier surface. -He seemed a mortal for ever severed from his fellow-men, set down in -a world that was primitive Arctic chaos, a paralysed spectator of a -contest of fierce mountain spirits fighting over spectral issues, -remote from the interests of humanity. A part of his mind harked back -to the warm summer, the green fields, the somnolent little town of -the valley he had left that morning, and it seemed that those things -belonged to another existence. Yet all the time he gazed fixedly to the -point whence the next rocket should shoot up. He awaited it as he would -await the breaking of a spell. - -At last! The trailing spark of fire shot upwards, burst into hanging -globes of red light, the snow rosy beneath them. On the instant the -company was erect, rushing forward. Leaping, soaring flares from the -trench revealed them--white moving figures casting black shadows on the -white glacier. Spurts of livid flame, loud quick detonations darted -from the white ridge in front. "_Avanti! Avanti! Italia! Italia!_" -shouted the commander. "_Italia! Italia! Savoia!_" came the fierce -antistrophe from the rushing men flinging aside their alpenstocks, -brandishing their bayoneted rifles. - -They were fighting their way through the deep loose snow, the wreck -of the wire entanglements. The staff-captain floundered in a white -shell-crater pitilessly illumined by an overhanging flare. The loose -ends of the barbed wire tore at his clothes, clutched round his legs -like tentacles that would hold him for death to strike. In front the -spurts of flame sprang from a wall of darkness above the white, high -up. Near him was the company commander, extricating himself from the -shell-hole, the last of the wire safely passed. He had a sense of -tensely struggling figures all around him. He, too, got clear of the -wire. He saw the company commander throw up his hands, roll sideways -over the snow, still shouting "_Avanti! Avanti! Italia!_" - -He passed him, took up the cry: "_Avanti! Avanti! Italia! La piu grande -Italia!_" leading the company that yelled behind him like a pack of -mountain wolves. He topped the snow parapet, saw a fierce face glaring -up at him in a strange light, a rifle-barrel levelled. His revolver -seemed to go off of itself, a sharp autonomous detonation. The face -opened a black mouth, sank out of vision. - -He sprang into the trench, shouting like a madman. Behind him came -the Italians, tumbling down in fierce onslaught. One of them struck -him violently on the back as he slid down, knocked him face forward -into the snow. As he went he heard a sudden heavy crash, saw a flare -of lurid light. A bomb! He picked himself up, only half realising his -escape, fired at once into a dark body that wrestled with a white-clad -soldier. There was a confusion of blows, of shots, of ear-splitting -detonations--shouts, cries, shrieks. At one moment he was in close -contact with a panting man, warm breath upon his face, eyes flashing -momentarily in the reflection of a rifle-shot, looking into his--the -next the man was gone, there was space about him. The confusion -cleared--there were bodies underfoot--white-clad men about him shouting -unintelligibly. Further along the trench another flare went up. - -The staff-captain turned to his right along the trench. - -"_Avanti! Avanti! A destra! Italia! Italia!_" - -Behind him followed a rush of fiercely yelling soldiery. - -"_Italia! Italia!_" - -They were held up by a traverse of snow-covered rock. A shower of bombs -came over it. From a communication trench a mass of dark figures rushed -at them, shouting with guttural voices. There was bitter conflict--an -ebb and flow in the surge of men. - -Then another fierce shout: "_Italia! Italia! Savoia!_" It was the third -company flinging itself in the trench to support the attack. - -In the midst of the tumult could be distinguished the scream of Italian -shells passing overhead to burst dully on the Austrian avenues of -approach. - -Suddenly the angry dominant note of the babel of voices changed. -Accents of supplication rang out amid the jarring reports: "_Kamerad! -Kamerad!_" - -The staff-captain made his way along the deep dark gully in the snow -where motionless figures stood with arms stretched up above their -heads, rifles at their feet. Ghostly white figures who had retained -their weapons joked at them in rough _patois_. He met the commander -of the company which had attacked upon the flank. The trench was -completely captured. - -There followed a period of fierce toil in the trench. Under the -twinkling stars in the black sky, men delved at the snow of the -parados, cutting fire-steps, building it up into a breastwork. Behind -them little parties of prisoners, stretcher-bearers and slightly -wounded men, stumbled across the broken surface of the glacier. The -toiling men gave no thought to them as they laboured to prepare for -the storm which would surely burst. - -It came. An ugly hissing rush heralded the first Austrian shell. -It exploded with re-echoing violence and a great fount of up-flung -snow right on the newly-strengthened breastwork. Another and another -followed in a methodical bombardment directed by calmly judicial -gunners ensconced in little huts far back in the mountains. Amid the -nerve-harrying rush of ever new arrivals, constant explosions, the men -toiled frenziedly. Reserves of ammunition were brought up. Machine-guns -were put in position. Telephone wires were laid. The fourth company -took up a post on the glacier whence it could rush into the trench in a -counter-attack if needed. - -Suddenly the bombardment ceased. The Alpini crouched behind the -parapet, fingering their rifles with gloved hands, peered out into the -indistinctness of the snow. - -There was a rush of dimly-seen figures from the obscurity, a blaze of -fire from the trench. Near the staff-captain the colonel sat speaking -into the mouth-piece of a telephone. Rush after rush of hurrying shells -passed overhead. Out there on the slope where an Austrian battalion was -surging to the attack, shrapnel after shrapnel lit fierce sudden flares -in the dark sky. There was again a tumult of voices, a re-echoing chaos -of men at strife. It persisted, swelled, died down. - -The silence of an Alpine night rested once more over the battleground, -was broken only by the roar of a distant avalanche. - -In the twilight of approaching morn an officer made his tour of the -outposts on what had been Austria. - -"_Chi va la?_" rang the sharp challenge of a white-garbed sentry almost -indistinguishable against the snow. - -"_Italia!_" came the proud response. - -The first rays of the sun gilded the surrounding summits in the glory -of a new dawn. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 2: "For Greater Italy!"--the theme of d'Annunzio's discourses -in the doubtful days preceding Italy's intervention.] - - - - -PANZERKRAFTWAGEN! - - -Hauptmann von Waldhofer, Batteriechef of the --th Battery -Fussartillerie, stood, helmeted and with buttoned coat, hastily sipping -a cup of steaming hot coffee in his dug-out. The electric light, fed -from the power-station at Cambrai, miles back, illumined a cosy little -apartment. Portraits of the Kaiser and Hindenburg looked stiffly from -the matchboard walls in the incongruous company of a medley of coloured -pages from _Simplicissimus_, _Jugend_, and, quaintly enough, the _Vie -Parisienne_. One side was fully occupied by an enormous large-scale -map of the Somme area, divided into numbered squares, heavily scored -with blue pencil here and there, across which ran a great curve of red -lines massed in intricate pattern--the enemy trenches, and radiating -pin-supported coloured threads from a point slightly E.S.E. of Flers -fan wise far across the opposing line. The battery-made bed, wiremesh -stretched over a wooden frame, sloping slightly from the head downwards -towards the foot, on which lay blankets in the disarray of recent use, -bulked largely in the apartment. But there was still room for a little -table, on which books and writing material were neatly arranged, and -two comfortable plush-covered armchairs, besides the camp washstand -in which the water yet steamed. A carpet, mudstained but thick and -soft to the tread, covered the floor. In the corner remote from the -bed was a stove whose long pipe bent at right angles below the roof -and followed it until it ascended the steep stairway at the entrance. -The deliberate comfort of the dug-out indicated long residence and -the expectation of an indefinite stay. Only the pick and shovel in -readiness by the door gave a hint of possible cataclysm. - -An orderly stood stiffly at attention while his master finished his -coffee. The captain put down the cup. - -"What time is it?" he asked sharply. - -"A quarter to seven,[3] Herr Hauptmann." - -"What sort of morning?" - -"Clear, Herr Hauptmann, but very cold." - -"Any aeroplanes?" - -"None over the battery, Herr Hauptmann." - -The captain gave a final glance at himself in the French wall-mirror -which hung over the table, touched lightly with his finger-tips the -black and white ribbon of the Iron Cross upon his breast, as though -flickering away a speck of dust, and turned to go. As he went the -hanging calendar caught his eye. He tore off the top leaf. The date -revealed was September 15th, 1916. - -He climbed, with the heavy step of an oldish man, the narrow steep -thirty-tread stairway, and emerged into the blue sky of a clear dawn. -Around him was bare rolling downlike country. About half a mile -directly in front of him the village of Flers huddled itself among thin -trees, its skeletal roofs silhouetted against the blue. Between him -and it, but close at hand in a slight depression of the ground, the -four 105[4] mm. guns of his battery stood spaced and silent under veils -of a gauzelike material tufted with green and brown that blended well -with the terrain. Inconspicuous even to a side view, thus covered they -were invisible from above. Near them were stacks of ammunition also -shrouded. Save for a sentry the guns were deserted. The personnel of -the battery was lined up in two queues, where the smoke of a couple of -field kitchens betokened breakfast. - -The battery dug-outs were excavated in the breast of a slight swelling -of the downs, their exits looking N.W., on the flank of the gun -positions. The battery commander stood for a moment surveying his -little community banded for the service of the four veiled idols lying -unhuman and aloof from the domestic needs of men. Then, following -his morning habit, he turned and climbed the little rise of ground. -On his accustomed view-point he stopped and gazed westward. Before -him, clear in the cold early light, the undulating downs gathered -themselves into a long, fairly regular ridge, some two miles distant -at the summit. A maze of communication and support trenches, just -visible, criss-crossed their white lines in the chalk of the hither -slope. On the skyline of the ridge directly west a large clump of bare, -shell-sharpened tree-stumps broke its emptiness. It was the Bois de -Foureaux. Further south a similar group of stumps spiked up into the -sky--the Bois de Delville.[5] That clean-swept landscape mounting to -the desolate skyline was the great dominant fact in his existence. Ever -concrete in his mind, it claimed his first waking vision even as the -weather horizon claims the first heed of the sailor, or Vesuvius the -morning glance of the Neapolitan. This morning it lay cloudless--save -for the towering smoke of an occasional shell-burst in the vicinity -of the Bois de Foureaux--and strangely quiet. The whole wide stretch -would have seemed untenanted by man had it not been for the occasional -primrose twinkle of a field-gun's flash. The reports of such guns came -in isolated slams at varying intervals. To his right an English shell -hurried with a long-drawn whine to burst heavily in Flers. Far back -several enemy aeroplanes, tiny specks in the cold blue sky yellowing -to the dawn, were dodging like midges among a smother of little brown -shell puffs. From overhead came the drone of a German machine. But, by -contrast with the frequent uproar which welled out of this region to -translate itself into long thick smoke along the ridge, the scene was -curiously clear and silent. - -Satisfied with his scrutiny, the Captain turned and descended again -to the battery position. He passed along the line of dug-outs in -the flank of the rise until he reached one whose entrance bore the -notice "Fernsprecher und Befehls Unterstand"[6] neatly painted on a -board. The Oberfeldwebel standing at the doorway sprang to a precise, -heel-clicking salute. The officer acknowledged it curtly and dived into -the dug-out. - -Here yellow electric light replaced the cool grey dawn and tobacco -smoke floated in long wreaths about the bulb. A young lieutenant, -seated at the telephone instrument on the table, took the pipe out of -his mouth and rose smartly as his superior entered. - -"Good morning, Eberstein," said the captain. "Anything fresh?" - -"Nothing, Herr Hauptmann," replied the lieutenant respectfully. - -"Nothing of this rumoured attack?" - -"Nothing." - -The captain seated himself heavily at the table and the lieutenant was -at liberty to resume his chair. - -"And that frightful bombardment all last night, Eberstein, what do you -make of it?" he asked as he lit himself a cigarette. - -The mouth under the fair moustache of the young lieutenant twisted into -a contemptuous smile. - -"Bah! the Englanders want to make us nervous or to persuade themselves -that their wonderful 'great push' is not played out." - -The captain blew out a long puff of smoke and nodded his head in -dubious thought. - -"And you think it is?" - -Von Waldhofer, a man of somewhat deliberate mental processes, was never -unwilling to discuss general topics with his subordinate. Eberstein's -cheering, if crude, optimism was a welcome stimulus to him. - -"Of course it is," said the lieutenant. "Since the first rush they have -been practically fought to a standstill. Here it is two and a half -months since the offensive began and where are they? Now in one week on -the Donajetz we----" - -"Yes, I know, Eberstein," his superior interrupted him. "You did -wonders. But it is the Somme and not the Donajetz that interests us -now." He removed his helmet and passed his hand wearily over a high -semi-bald brow. "I wish I could be as certain as you. These Englanders -do not know when they are beaten----" He stopped, then broke out -again with the over-emphasis of a man wearied with long brooding over -a problem. "The colonel was so positive last night! And he had just -come from the General Staff. At dawn, he said, we might expect it. I -can't make it out. All night that frightful bombardment, obviously -preparation. Then this quiet! I feel something is coming." He shook his -head. "We are much too near in this position." - -"If they come, so much the better!" cried Eberstein. "We will -annihilate them. But I do not for a moment believe----" - -He was stopped by a heavy distant roar that commenced with the -suddenness of a thunderclap and continued in one never-ending roll. - -"There we are!" exclaimed von Waldhofer. He looked at his watch. It -marked 7 o'clock precisely.[7] - -A moment later the telephone bell rang in an excavated offshoot of the -main dug-out. The orderly on duty there answered the call. "Message -from the observation officer!" he announced in a loud voice. Eberstein -picked up the receiver lying on the table in front of him. - -"Yes?" - -"Intense artillery fire all calibres upon entire sector. Whole front -being heavily bombarded. Infantry attack expected momentarily." - -Eberstein repeated the message, and ere he had finished the battery -commander had sprung to the door of the dug-out, shouting his orders. -He heard them megaphoned on by the sergeant-major above. Out there in -the first rays of the sun the four squat idols had shaken aside their -veils, lay surrounded by tensely waiting acolytes. The moment for their -dread speech was at hand. - -In the electric-lit dug-out the two officers sat silently listening -to the distant storm. It rolled in one unnerving continuous thunder. -Not their duty was it to reply. They were detailed for barrage upon a -particular sector. But near at hand the heavy detonations of guns told -off for counter-battery work followed one another ever more quickly. -Near at hand, too, came the long whine and crash of the English -counter-battery shells hurled in reply. - -Again the bell rang and again the telephone orderly called out. "Speak -to battalion commander,[8] please!" - -This time von Waldhofer picked up the receiver himself. - -"_Ja, ja!_ We are all ready!" he said. "Yes. It is coming this time. -No. No further message. Oh, yes, we are in communication. No? Have -you heard anything definite? No. I wonder if there's any truth in it? -Good-bye." He put down the receiver and turned to Eberstein, stopping -for a moment to listen to the roll of the hostile bombardment. - -"That old story again![9] You remember we heard it before the first of -July? Some wonderful invention the Englanders are supposed to have for -annihilating us all. I wonder if there's anything in it?" - -The lieutenant laughed mockingly. - -"The Englanders invent anything? Not they! Besides, I don't believe -in the possibility of any new invention that can revolutionise war. -Just think! Here have all the nations of the world been fighting for -two years, and what new inventions have we seen? None! There have been -perfections and the rediscovery of old methods--that's all. What is the -Zeppelin but a perfected Montgolfier? It is neither the first nor the -only dirigible even! Poison gas and liquid fire--what are they but the -stinkpots and Greek fire of the middle ages, rediscovered and brought -up to date? There is nothing, can be nothing really new!" - -Von Waldhofer shook his head. - -"You are very positive in all your ideas, Eberstein. I don't know. The -English do get hold of new things sometimes--it is true that generally -they leave it to us to make use of them. But these rumours are so -persistent! They are vague, I admit. Yet where there is so much smoke -there is generally a fire. We are very close here. Just listen to that -bombardment!" - -For a moment or two both officers sat silent again, listening to the -roll of awful menace. Then von Waldhofer shouted an order to the -telephonist. - -"Get through to the observation officer!" - -Almost immediately the orderly called out: - -"Speaking, Herr Hauptmann!" - -Von Waldhofer picked up the receiver. - -"What is happening?" - -"The bombardment is continuing," came the reply. "Much damage is being -done to the trenches. Some sectors are almost obliterated. My wire has -already been cut twice." - -"No infantry attack?" - -"Not yet. This is evidently preparatory." - -"Keep me informed," said von Waldhofer, and put down the receiver. He -turned to Eberstein. "Well, we shall soon see." - -"There will be nothing," replied the lieutenant with his contemptuous -laugh. "I should like to bet on it. If there were a patent way of -breaking down trench lines, it would not be the Englanders who invented -it. It would be we Germans!----" - -"Hush!" said von Waldhofer. "Listen!" - -The roll of the hostile artillery ceased as though controlled by a -single volition, remained silent for a few seconds and then, with one -thunder-surge of sound, recommenced. - -"The barrage has lifted!" cried von Waldhofer. He raised his voice to -be heard by the Oberfeldwebel who waited megaphone in hand, his legs -visible halfway down the dug-out steps. "All ready, sergeant-major?" - -"All ready, Herr Hauptmann," replied the tranquil voice of the N.C.O. - -The telephone bell rang again in the dug-out. - -"Message from observation officer!" proclaimed the orderly. - -Von Waldhofer snatched up the instrument. - -"Yes?" - -"_Barrage!_" - -"Fire!" shouted von Waldhofer to the Oberfeldwebel. - -Eberstein looked at his watch. The hour was 7.20. - -As though the commanding officer had pressed an electric firing-button, -the four heavy crashes of his guns followed, merging into each other, -renewed in a never-ending chain of detonations as fast as the crews -could load, relay and fire. A constant stream of 4.2" shells was -rushing from the battery to fall in a narrow area at the predetermined -range. But loud as were the violent concussions of the guns close at -hand, they were but one element in the chaos of frenzied sound that had -leaped from the whole countryside at the moment of their first report. -Every German battery was firing at its maximum intensity. On the -background of the dull continuance of the English guns danced the rapid -reports of the quick-firers at full pressure of urgency, and surged -ponderously the gruff double-roar of the howitzers, and the sharper, -louder crash of the heavies, blended without a moment's interval into -one unceasing peal. The rifle-fire from the trenches was inaudible, -swallowed up. - -Von Waldhofer sat with one telephone receiver pressed to his ear. -Eberstein picked up the other. They heard the observation officer's -voice, faintly. - -"What?" shouted von Waldhofer into the instrument. - -"Something is coming--something strange--I cannot see well, -there is so much smoke--something--slow and crawling--a -machine--firing--more--_schreckliche_----!" The voice ceased abruptly. - -Von Waldhofer and his lieutenant looked at one another. - -"The wire has gone!" cried Eberstein. He had to shout to be heard in -the din. - -"Let us hope it is only that," replied his chief. Both strove -deliberately to ignore the fear in the forefront of their minds. Von -Waldhofer shouted loudly into the telephone: "Kurt! Kurt! Are you -there?" - -There was no answer. - -Outside the dug-out the battery was still firing furiously, would -continue to do so until it received fresh orders. The general uproar -had abated not at all, had if anything intensified. Into the welter of -sound came a familiar, heart-stopping, hissing rush followed by a loud -crash. Another and another and another swooped down on the heels of -the first. An English 60 pr. battery was searching for their position. -But the two officers, fascinated by the mysterious distant menace that -was crawling into their world, did not hear and gave no thought to -the shells. Once more von Waldhofer shouted into the telephone "Kurt! -Kurt!" Still there came no answer. The eyes of the two men met. - -"What can it be?" demanded Eberstein impatiently. "Is he dreaming?" - -"Perhaps the wire has been cut close here," said his chief, resolute -like a good soldier to allow no disturbing speculations in this battle -crisis. He shouted an order to the Oberfeldwebel. - -The telephone bell rang sharply. - -"Order from the battalion commander," announced the telephonist. - -Von Waldhofer was already listening. - -"Yes?" - -"_Feindliche Panzerkraftwagen[10] uebersteigen die Schuetzengraeben Punkt -C 32 d 4.1. Sofort Feuer dagegen mit aller Kraft eroeffnen!_" ("Enemy -armoured motor-cars are crossing the trenches at point C 32 d 4.1. Open -heaviest possible fire upon them immediately!") - -The battery commander sprang to a little table, outspread with a -large-scale map upon which lay protractor and dividers. A second or -two of hasty calculation and he shouted his orders to the Oberfeldwebel. - -"Cease fire! All guns 20 degrees more right! With percussion! Left half -at 3150 metres! Right half at 3100 metres! Forty rounds battery fire!" - -He heard them repeated in stentorian tones through the Oberfeldwebel's -megaphone. The rapid detonations of the guns ceased. There was a pause, -a few seconds only. Then the voice of the sergeant-major announced. - -"All ready!" - -"Fire!" - -Again the fury of the guns burst forth. - -"_Panzerkraftwagen!_" said Eberstein. "But surely armoured cars cannot -cross wire entanglements and trenches! There is a mistake somewhere." - -"There is no mistake that something has gone wrong and that we are -without observation," returned von Waldhofer irritably, indisposed to -abstract argument just then. The orderly had once more failed to elicit -any response from the observation officer. "Take a couple of men and -a new instrument, follow the wire along as far as possible, get into -a good position for observing, and open up communication with the -battery. No, wait a moment!" The telephone bell was ringing again. - -"Message from battalion commander," said the orderly. - -"Yes?" von Waldhofer spoke into the instrument. "I am firing on them -now. No. I am without observation. Five minutes ago. Really? What -are they? Not ordinary cars? Something quite new? Herr Gott, this is -serious! Yes. Yes. I quite understand. I am not to retreat while I -have ammunition. Good. You may rely on us. We shall stand to the last -man. _Fuer Gott und Kaiser! Lebewohl!_" He put down the receiver and -stood for a moment in deep thought, his hand pressed to his high bald -brow. Then he shook himself alert. He turned to Eberstein. "Hurry!" he -said irritably. "Everything is at stake!" The lieutenant sprang up the -stairway and vanished. - -Von Waldhofer put on his helmet and gave a last order to the -telephonist before he followed his subaltern. - -"Ring up Captain Pforzheim. Tell him to send up every available round -as quickly as possible. Urgently required!" - -Then he also ran up the narrow stairway into the bright morning light. - -"Two telephonists, all necessary instruments, with me into flank -observing station at once!" he shouted to the sergeant-major. - -He went swiftly towards the battery. The last gun had just finished -its allotted ten rounds. They lay now in their wide-spaced row, smoke -upcurling from their muzzles. Their attendant crews stood, coatless, -mopping the sweat on their brows. Far and near the thunderous uproar -of the battle swelled; it seemed louder than ever now that he had -come from the dug-out into the open air. The English batteries had -lengthened their range. As he walked he glanced at Flers. It was -whelmed in fumes. Explosion upon explosion leaped up among the huddled -houses in the trees, fragments, timbers, earth-clods momentarily poised -upon a dome of dark smoke. White shrapnel puffs sprang incessantly into -existence above the roofs. He heard the hissing rush of an approaching -shell without faltering in his pace, so preoccupied was he with the -urgency of the moment. He saw the quick upspout of smoke; the heavy -metallic crash came to his ears. He noted only that it was well behind -the battery. His eyes were fixed on the officer with the guns. - -"Oberleutnant Schwarz!" he called, stopping suddenly some twenty yards -from the battery. - -The long-coated, helmeted lieutenant stiffened as though galvanised, -walked smartly up to him, saluted, and waited rigidly for his orders. -Oberleutnant Schwarz, a young freckled-face fellow, set the pattern -for discipline in that battery. The commander noted the punctilious -attitude without his wonted inward smile. The occasion had found the -man. - -"Schwarz, communication with the forward officer is interrupted. -Eberstein has gone to re-establish it if possible. I am going into -the flank observing station. Orders will come from there. Put the -Einjaehriger into the telephone dug-out. The situation is critical. -Something has gone wrong. A new kind of armoured car has broken through -the trench-line. They must be stopped at all costs. The orders from the -battalion commander are formal. The battery will not retire while it -has ammunition. I have ordered up every available round. The battery -will maintain its position, _whatever happens_, while it has a man and -a shell. Is that clear?" - -Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted in precise parade-ground fashion. - -"Quite, Herr Hauptmann," he replied unemotionally. - -"If I become a casualty the command devolves upon you," continued von -Waldhofer. "Remember these armoured cars are your target, wherever -they can be fired on. Use direct laying if you get the opportunity." A -flight of shells burst in a succession of heavy crashes on the swelling -ground to his right. He glanced at them. "Keep a couple of groundmen -going over the wire to the flank observing station. Here, two of you!" -he shouted suddenly to some mounted N.C.O.'s who at that moment trotted -up to the battery with a string of ammunition limbers. Upon his sign -one of them dismounted. The captain swung himself into the vacated -saddle. Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted once more. Accompanied by the -other N.C.O. the battery commander set off at a hard gallop, up the -rising ground into the welter of dark smoke from the just-burst shells. - -The flank observing station was a splinter-proof dug-out on a little -knoll some 500 yards away to the left flank of the battery. It had -been constructed in prevision of the unexpected. Von Waldhofer spurred -towards it now at the top pace of his horse. Despite many shell-bursts, -on the ground and in the air, he reached it safely. Leaping to earth, -he threw the reins to his follower and sent both horses back. Then he -dived into the dug-out. - -Both telephonists were there awaiting him. The large-scale map was -pinned out on a board, instruments upon it. The range-finder stood by -the observation-slit. One of the orderlies was testing the telephone -communication to the battery. Von Waldhofer pulled his glasses out of -their case, pressed himself against the observation-slit and looked out. - -Directly in front of him the bare ground with many minor undulations -rose steadily to the shattered silhouette of the Bois de Foureaux on -the skyline. But no longer was the view clear as when he last had gazed -on it. Over all lay a haze which the early morning sun was powerless to -penetrate. In the foreground and wide to right and left in the middle -distance spurted and twinkled the primrose flashes of the guns, more -rapidly multiplied than any eye could count. On the ridge the smoke -lay thick, bellying in dark masses over the tree-stumps of the wood, -poised on the horizon in tall, heavy-headed columns like elm trees in -full foliage. In the air long bands of white shrapnel smoke reached out -and clung to each other in a lazy drift, while among them the large -dead-black bursts of heavy high-explosive shrapnel appeared suddenly, -darted a head from the round nucleus and then unfolded themselves -slowly and snakily earthward. Between him and the ridge the whole wide -amphitheatre was being thickly sown with English shells. Near and far -the smoke-columns shot incessantly into the air. Over the road from -Flers to the Bois de Delville, which crossed his view at right angles, -the white shrapnel puffs clustered in ever-renewed groups. Over all, -English aeroplanes in scores flitted to and fro, daringly low yet -apparently unchallenged. No longer did this arena appear untenanted. In -every part there was movement and confusion of Lilliputian figures. Far -away three tiny ammunition wagons raced towards a battery. Closer at -hand, grey-clad infantry dashed in sections along the shell-swept road -from Flers. They tugged low bomb-carts on long hand-ropes. He knew, -subconsciously, that they were going to reinforce the great trench-line -that stretched east and west from Martinpuich to Lesboeufs. Further -afield other bands of grey midgets, scarcely visible, were rushing -forward. Everywhere from the rim of battle-pressure grey figures were -filtering in ragged streams down towards the lower ground. A long way -off, on that rim, his glasses revealed a nodal point of confusion. He -focussed on it. There were tiny grey figures grouped, in quick movement -to and fro. Little smoke-dots were all round them. Then the confusion -cleared. He saw darker figures, running forward, the twinkle of sun on -a distant bayonet. For a moment he held them under view anxiously. Then -with an impatient movement he swept his glasses round. Not there was -the target that he sought. - -Suddenly he arrested his sweep. To his left, much closer to him than -he had been looking, a field battery topped a little rise, retiring at -full gallop among a welter of shell-smoke. It passed down below his -vision. His glasses remained steadily focussed on the rise over which -it had come, fascinated by the abnormality, expectant of the cause. - -It appeared. Slightly to the right of the course of the retreating -battery, something emerged over the crest--something slow, ponderous, -shapeless--drawing itself up. The silhouette of a gun projecting from -its flank barred the sky. Swiftly he replaced his glasses by the -range-finder. As he twisted the thumbscrews that brought the inverted -vision into juxtaposition with the normal, he saw a group of grey -soldiers surround the monster, hurl little puffs of smoke at it. He saw -the gun slue, spit, saw soldiers who waved white rags tripping over -those already fallen. The double visions met, he read the range. The -thing drew itself up, turned slightly, creeping on its belly, snout -in the air, like an uncouth saurian from the prehistoric slime. It -was moving more quickly than he at first realised. In another instant -he had taken the angle to the aiming post, plotted another, and was -shouting orders to the telephonist. - -"All guns 28.3 degrees left! Right half-section No. 1 gun 980 metres, -No. 2 gun 960 metres! With percussion! one round! Fire!" - -Through the range-finder he saw the burst of the two shells at the same -moment that the detonations of the guns came to his ears. One fell -full in the midst of the group of grey soldiery, whelmed them in black -smoke. The other burst beyond. The thing paused not nor hurried. At an -even pace it drew its low bulk along, dipped now for the descent. - -"Right half-section 970 metres! Left half-section 960 metres! With -percussion! Twenty rounds battery fire! Fire!" - -Spout upon spout of black smoke heralded the rapid explosions of -the guns. The monster was blotted out. Feeling like one engaged in a -struggle with a creature born not in our time and space, of another -world, von Waldhofer prayed for a direct hit. The smoke cleared. He -looked for what should be its ripped and stationary bulk. It was not -there. Only the grey bodies of the dead lay under the drifting fumes. -The thing had passed onward, dipped into the hollow, out of sight. - -He was suddenly aware that the enemy shell-fire, always heavy, had -increased in intensity. The smoke-spouts shot up more numerously, -grouped themselves more densely. Gradually they extended to new areas, -abandoned those already covered. He realised in a flash that the -monster was moving behind its special barrage, aeroplane directed from -above. He shouted fresh orders, altering the range. Blindly he hurled -his shells into the hollow behind the screen of smoke. - -If only he had direct observation! He shouted to the telephonist. - -"Ask if communication has been made with Leutnant Eberstein?" - -The reply came: "Nothing has been heard of Leutnant Eberstein. Six men -have just been killed in the battery." - -Von Waldhofer's exclamation expressed annoyance rather than grief -at the loss of his subordinate. He turned again to look through the -observation slit. There was a blinding crash---- - -When he came to, he found himself gazing at the blue sky. The deep -breath he drew half-choked him with the fumes of burnt explosive. -Shaking in every limb he struggled to his feet. Before him lay his two -orderlies, dead. The dug-out was wrecked and roofless. The telephone -instrument was strewn in fragments on the floor. He himself was -unwounded. - -He listened, with a sudden anxiety, for the detonations of his guns. -The general uproar had diminished not at all, but the familiar crashes -were wanting in the din. How long had he lain there? A wild fear seized -him. Scrambling out of the ruined dug-out he ran breathlessly towards -the battery. - -The enemy fire was as intense as ever. The air was filled with the -whine and scream of arriving shells and the heavy crashes of their -explosion. From somewhere behind came the rattle of rifles and -machine-guns and the dull thud of bombs. Grey-clad men in swarms -were running across the open ground athwart his path. He heard them -shouting, saw officers gesticulating, realised as in a dream that they -were running from the battle. But their fear touched him not. He was -enveloped in concern for his beloved battery. - -He arrived on the lip of the depression where it lay. In a surge of joy -he saw the four guns lying in the familiar places, saw them strangely -naked, their protective veils ripped and hurled aside, saw barely -sufficient crews standing at their posts, saw the position gashed with -shell-holes and littered with prone grey bodies, shattered limbers and -dead horses. Even as he looked a salvo of shrapnel burst with deafening -cracks above them, and white fleecy clouds floated over the battery. -On the near flank, in the position of command, stood Oberleutnant -Schwarz, rigid and precise as on the parade-ground. - -Von Waldhofer ran down the slope towards him. - -"Schwarz! Schwarz!" he called. - -The Oberleutnant advanced to meet him, and, looking calmly at his chief -as though his smoke-blackened face and torn clothing were in no way out -of the normal, saluted with perfect gravity. - -"What has been happening?" - -"We have been under heavy fire, Herr Hauptmann. All the wires are -cut in many places. The telephone dug-out has been blown in. We are -absolutely without communications. The battery has fired whenever there -was a chance of a target. Your orders have been obeyed. The battery has -stood its ground. We have only three rounds per gun left. I am waiting -now for an opportunity to fire." - -Listening to the cool report of his subordinate, von Waldhofer -recovered his soldierly poise. - -"Excellent. You have done well, Schwarz. And the casualties?" - -"I regret are heavy." He waved a gloved hand towards the bare dozen -standing by the guns. "All that are left." - -There was the loud, hissing, nerve-paralysing rush of a shell at -arrival. Simultaneously with the shattering crash that leaped from -the fountain of black smoke, Oberleutnant Schwarz put his hand to his -breast, performed a sharp half-turn and fell--dead. - -The reverberation yet rang when a second rush and crash followed -the first. A third and fourth shook the air almost too quickly for -distinction. The battery commander's brain worked with the timeless -speed of a great crisis or a dream. In an incomputable fraction of a -second he saw the heavy barrage which preceded the slowly crawling -monster, was conscious of an aeroplane overhead, saw his opportunity -and his plan. He ran towards the guns, shouting: "Lie down! Lie down!" -The crews obeyed. Standing among the strewn corpses the guns seemed -manned only by the dead. He flung himself prone on the flank of the -battery. - -Shell after shell swooped and burst on the stretch of ground in -front of him. Fed by the constantly spouting black geysers, an -ever-thickening dark mist drifted across, blotted out the distance. -Through it he saw the freshly thrown edges, brown and white, of -unfamiliar shell-craters pocking the undulating ground. The worn, -smooth greensward that he had known was being churned into loose clay -and chalk, mingled haphazard in their fall from the fierce upward -gush. The reiterated crash upon crash of near explosions all but -obliterated the far-flung din of the general battle, but through them -he caught waves of an appalling uproar welling out of Flers. Slowly, -riving, crashing, upspouting its black fountains of smoke and earth, -the barrage marched onward, passing across the battery front. Now? -Through the mist he saw the directing aeroplane sweep down in front of -him, absurdly low, rattling its machine-gun. A group of grey figures -sprang up beneath it, both arms high above the head, tumbling among -the shell-holes as they ran. A temptation flitted across his mind. One -round gun-fire and that aeroplane was blown to fragments. His lips -tightened. He did not move. The battery seemed abandoned by all its -dead. - -Age-long seconds passed as he watched, peering through the thinning -mist. Save for one little group of hasty, self-obliterating men, his -immediate front was a deserted waste of churned earth, sloping gently -upwards away from him. Once, over the low near skyline seen from his -prone position, he thought he saw the spurt of a bomb. But he could -not be sure. And a bomb did not necessarily betoken the presence of -the--Thing. Yes! What was that? - -Something was lifting itself, slowly and with jerks, beyond that near -skyline. Ponderously, with the efforts of a limbless living thing, it -drew its bulk up, seemed to stop--nosing the air with its blind snout. -Now? Not yet! He had only one chance--certainty. The monster moved on -again, downward now, lurching and wallowing among the shell-holes like -a ship in a heavy sea. He saw the gun swinging in the side-turret as -it rolled, the bright-splashed colouring of its flank. It was passing -diagonally across his front. It must climb to escape. _Now!_ - -He sprang to his feet, shouting with all his lungs. - -"To the guns!" The crews leaped up, resuscitated. "Point blank! At the -devil! With percussion! All guns! Fire!" - -But quick as he and his men had been, the monster was quicker. At -his first movement, with a mighty jerk it had slued itself nose-on -to the battery. Ere a hand could clutch a firing lever, a storm of -small violently exploding shells burst right in among the guns, a -hail of whip-cracking machine-gun bullets smote on men and metal. Von -Waldhofer looked towards the monster lurching heavily towards him, -keyed to a frenzy of suspense. To his horror he heard--not four--but -one detonation. The Thing dipped. He saw the shell burst--_over_! He -glanced towards the guns in speechless agony. The last gunner was in -the act of falling lifeless across the trail. - -High-nosed, seeming to smell its enemies rather than see them, like -an uncouth blind monster of the rudimentary past, the Thing crept on, -its speed as surprising as a reptile's. Viciously, with unallayed -suspicions, it spat its missiles at the dead battery. Von Waldhofer -stood alone, erect, praying that one might strike him. - -Suddenly its fire ceased. He heard the loud clatter of its machinery as -it approached, saw the rolling bands on which it moved. He felt that it -was coming to mark its triumph over his beloved guns, felt its disdain -for him their helpless master. An insane hatred for it gushed up in -him, swept away his conscious self. He whipped out his pistol, ran like -a madman towards it. He fired again and again, desperately seeking the -eye, the brain, like a hunter at bay with a crocodile. But eyeless, -featureless, the great snout slanted upwards above him, impenetrable -steel plates, on which his bullets flattened. - -Blindly the Thing rolled on, ponderous, invulnerable. It bulked huge -above him. He heard a shriek. It was his own. - -In the bright sunshine of a September morning the strange new monsters -crawled over that bare countryside racked with noise and tortured with -the leaping, eddying smoke of countless explosions. Behind them crowds -of khaki-clad men, hatted with inverted bowls like Samurai, followed -cheering and laughing like boys behind a circus-car. They waved -newspaper posters, obtained Heaven knows whence, that proclaimed in fat -bold type: "Great British Victory!" - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 3: 6.45 German Summer Time, 5.45 English Summer Time, 4.45 -Greenwich Time. The Summer Time was used in all the Armies.] - -[Footnote 4: The well-known 4.2" gun.] - -[Footnote 5: Known to the British Army as High Wood and Devil's Wood -respectively.] - -[Footnote 6: Telephone and Command Dug-out.] - -[Footnote 7: 6 a.m. English summer time.] - -[Footnote 8: German Heavy Artillery is organised in "Bataillons" of -four batteries.] - -[Footnote 9: The Germans had apparently heard rumours of the coming of -the "Tanks." It was asserted in the Army on the 16th September, that a -motor-cyclist carrying a definite warning had been killed by one of our -shells in the early morning of the 15th, on his way from H.Q. to the -front line.] - -[Footnote 10: Panzerkraftwagen, lit. "armoured power wagons," was and -is the official German designation of the "Tanks." The word is also -applied to armoured cars.] - - - - -NACH VERDUN! - - -In the long luxuriously furnished saloon car of the special train an -officer clad in the field-service uniform of a South-Eastern Power -sat in conversation with a colonel of the German General Staff. The -deference shown to him made it immediately obvious that he was a -distinguished personage representing a neutral whose friendliness was -important. His dark, clever eyes rested thoughtfully upon the groups -of officers with whom the car was overcrowded. All round was a buzz of -talk, of suppressed excitement. The air was thick with cigar smoke. - -"_Ja, Excellenz_," said the German colonel, podgy little fingers -drumming the table between them. "The secret is out. You have rightly -guessed our objective." His eyes were those of a rather clumsy and not -too scrupulous diplomat. His smile was deliberate flattery. "Allow -me to congratulate you upon your good fortune. You will see the -machinery of our _Kriegswirtschaftlichkeit_,"[11] he throated the word -impressively, "at the moment when it works at its highest power to -shape for Germany her final victory." - -The distinguished neutral smiled also, perfectly courteous. He spoke -with a faint Austrian accent. - -"I can understand your desire for the final," he underlined the word -ever so lightly, "victory, Herr Oberst." - -The German stared at him, suspicious of the nimbler brain. - -"Who would not desire it, Excellenz? This awful slaughter," he waved a -deprecating hand. "It is terrible that our adversaries do not recognise -they are already beaten." - -The neutral nodded. - -"Bar-le-Duc and the Upper Marne, I suppose--Paris!" - -The German colonel's eyes went dead. - -"Excellenz, I believe the supreme command reserves to itself the honour -of enlightening you on its plans." - -The conversation languished. The train rolled on, heavily comfortable. -The staff officers talked earnestly among themselves, the word -"Majestaet" oft repeated. Orderlies, garbed as soldiers but obviously -royal _Kammerdiener_, stole noiselessly in and out of the car, went -frequently into the car beyond. On those occasions the distinguished -neutral had a glimpse of a world-familiar figure, upturned moustaches -on a tired face, a uniform of grey hung with many decorations. - -The train rolled into a station, stopped. The blare of a military -band started on the precise instant of its arrival. The platform was -thronged with officers, bright with the red of the General Staff. - -The distinguished neutral took little interest in the ceremony outside. -He busied himself with collecting the small articles of his kit. -Through the large windows he glimpsed the salutes of the rigidly-erect -officers. Above the noise of the band he heard the repeated "_Hoch! -Hoch! Hoch!_" of soldiers who cheered as they drilled, exactly -synchronous. - -He stepped on to the platform, followed by the Colonel appointed to be -his conductor. "Majestaet" had already departed. Officers were thronging -to the exit, laughing and talking, much excited, revealing, despite -the grey and red of the staff uniform, the essential childishness of -the crowd-mind. "_Nach Verdun!_" said one of them, very close to the -distinguished neutral, nudging another in the ribs. "_Nach Verdun!_" -He repeated the just given watchword of victory as a schoolboy repeats -the latest smart expression. The officers around him laughed. The crowd -buzzed with high spirits. - -Outside the station the roadway was choked with waiting motor-cars, -lined with soldiers readjusting their helmets after tumultuous -"_Hochs!_" Some cars--those containing the highest personages--had -already departed. One after the other those remaining were filled, -swerved out and sped away. The distinguished neutral and his companion -found a vehicle reserved for them. The colonel led him to it with an -air that suggested: "See how the smallest details are thought out!" -They, too, sped away through the walls of infantry. - -Behind the soldiers were a few listless French inhabitants; from the -windows of that French town hung German flags, but no French faces -looked out. The shops were open but their owners stood not at the -doors. The neutral noted these things. The complete apathy of the -population was in contrast to stories his companion had related in -the train. In many of the side-streets long convoys of ammunition -and ration wagons were halted to allow them passage. On one of those -foremost wagons was scrawled in big chalk letters: "Nach Verdun!" - -"_Nach Verdun!_" that was the Leitmotiv underlying all the intense -military activity that filled the town and, as they shot out beyond -the houses, the countryside also. Every road was choked with columns -of marching infantry, with endless trains of wagons, of limbers, of -ambulances. Even cavalry was in evidence, riding with tall lances -and saddle-hung rifles on wretched-looking horses. "_Nach Verdun!_" -The German colonel, though he warily gave no information, could talk -of nothing else. Under that grey February sky pulsed and boomed the -distant detonations of artillery. The neutral listened to it with a -professional ear, was puzzled. It was persistent enough, but it was -certainly not the prolonged roar of a preparatory bombardment. - -The car swung into the drive of a park. A tunnel of winter-stripped -trees, brown above, green streaking the bark, and then a large chateau -drew itself across the vista. Thither the other cars had preceded -them. They stood now ranked in a mass. There was a throng of officers -round the great doors, the buzz awakened by the recent passage of the -All-Highest. The neutral was shown to his room, the German colonel -volubly regretting that exigencies of space forced him to share it. - -Some hours later the neutral was ushered into a vast, lofty apartment -whose tapestried walls were almost completely rehung with the huge -maps pinned upon them. On easels stood other maps, strange diagrams in -curves and slants of red, green and black ink. On a large table was -a horizontal relief model of hills and woods, a river with tributary -streams, a splash of red in the valley, thin lines of red converging -upon it, passing through, opening out again. On all these maps, on the -splash of red in the relief model, the name "Verdun" was repeated again -and again. - -All these things the neutral officer noticed with the corner of his -eye--the large writing-tables behind which sat officers of high rank, -other officers grouped in a corner. His direct gaze was held by the -figure he saluted. Spare, of medium height, in the grey field-service -uniform of a general, gold cord looping across his right breast, a star -upon the left above the Iron Cross, gilt epaulettes, gilt leaves upon -the red gorgets of his collar, the would-be conqueror of the world -stood stiffly erect, graciously acknowledged his salute. The brushed-up -moustache was still dark, though the short hair on the head was grey, -almost white. The face was deeply furrowed with endless anxieties, -but the blue eyes--pouched though were their under lids--gleamed with -excitement. He spoke in a jerky but distinct manner that betrayed a -temperament of long ill-controlled impulses. - -"_Guten Abend, Herr General!_ Welcome to Germany's greatest hour! You -shall see our sun mount triumphantly to its zenith, breaking through -the dark clouds of foes who cluster over against us in vain!" The tone -was that of a rhetoric practised until it has become a habit. The right -hand gesticulated with quick motions, the left arm was conspicuously -still. "General!" he turned to one of the officers sitting at the -tables, "be so good as to explain everything to our friend here." - -It was to be clearly understood that the All-Highest was flatteringly -gracious. - -The neutral officer bowed, expressed his thanks courteously, ventured a -request: "That I may be allowed to admire your War-Machine in all its -work, Majestaet--go where I will." - -"By all means, General. We have nothing to hide. You will find much -to interest you, much to relate to our well-wishers in your country. -General! see that a pass is given to our friend that will give him the -fullest freedom." The All-Highest answered the neutral's salute in a -manner that terminated the conversation. - -Seated at the huge, carved writing-table with the officer to whom he -had been addressed, the neutral found himself looking at a pair of keen -grey eyes that peered through pince-nez under bushy white eyebrows. The -German spread out maps, indicated positions. He drew notice to the fact -that all roads squeezed through a bottle-neck over the river at Verdun, -spread out in a fan on the east bank to a long line of positions that -climbed from the river over the Heights of the Meuse and fell into the -plain of the Woevre across which they bent southward. - -"_Die Sache ist aeusserst einfach!_"[12] he said with the air of a -man explaining a chess-problem. "The French have three divisions of -Territorials in front of us to hold the entire sector. That force is -not strong enough to defend it and certainly too weak to have kept the -trench-systems in good repair. In fact we know that they have been -allowed to fall into ruin.[13] We have fifteen divisions in front -line, fifteen divisions in reserve. We do not intend to fling those -divisions away. No. Step by step our artillery will blast a passage -for them--see, here are our artillery positions," he showed concentric -lines one within the other on the map, round the doomed sector. "It -is the greatest artillery concentration the world has ever seen. Even -our concentration on the Donajetz last year is surpassed. We shall -obliterate the positions in front of us--other batteries will drench -the only avenues of supplies with shells, they must all go through the -town--our infantry will merely march into the devastated position, wait -for the clearance of the next step. I may tell you that the French -have only one small branch railway line which is safe from our fire. -We have built fourteen new lines, besides those already existing. In -the great problem of supply we have an overwhelming superiority. We -believe we have the advantage of surprise. Certainly the French have no -concentration within easy reach. In four days we shall be in Verdun. -The Western Front will have been broken." - -"In four days?" The neutral officer looked at the map as a -chess-player looks at the board. "And--if I might ask the -question--supposing you do not take Verdun in four days? There is said -to be an enormous Allied force somewhere in France." - -"We have yet another day," said the German a little wearily, as though -resenting the effort to explain the unnecessary. "We have five clear -days before any reinforcements can be brought up against us--all the -chances have been calculated, you see. If we are not in Verdun by -the evening of the fifth day--well, the battle will continue. But, I -repeat, we shall be in Verdun within four days. The thing is certain!" - -"Of course it is, General," said another voice above their heads. Both -officers looked up, rose to their feet. "In four days we shall be in -Verdun. In a fortnight--Paris!" - -The speaker was a youngish man, with a long nose in a long face, -somewhat bald upon the brow, a clipped moustache above a long thin -mouth. There was something in his manner which suggested not too -reputable finance doubled with Monte Carlo and the _coulisses_. -He repeated, smacking his hand familiarly upon the back of the -distinguished neutral: "In a fortnight--Paris!" He named the famous -city with a smack of the lips. - -"Undoubtedly, Highness," said the German general, his professional -manner replaced by the obsequiousness of the courtier. "The army led by -Your Highness cannot fail to conquer." - -"Verdun--Paris! This time it will not fail, General." He walked across -the room, smacking a riding-switch on his tall, patent-leather hussar -boots, and chanting: "_Nach Verdun! Nach Verdun--Paris!_"[14] - - * * * * * - -The morning of the 21st February, 1916, opened damp and bleak. Over -the heavy clay fields of the Woevre plain the mist hung persistently, -enclosing all vision in a few hundred yards. Through the obscurity the -poplars lining the roads loomed up like ghosts, dripping moisture from -each bare twig. In the copses and the larger stretch of woodland known -as the Foret de Spincourt the conglobulated mist fell like rain. From -either of the high knolls known as the Twins of Ornes, just south-west -of the Foret de Spincourt, the wooded slopes of the Heights of the -Meuse--Merbebois and the Bois de Wavrille--rose dark and indefinite, -discernible only when a little puff of the raw east wind, coming up the -valley of the Orne, broke a rift in the fog. - -The neutral and the German Oberst who was his inseparable companion -stood on the more southerly of the twin heights. About them was a group -of artillery officers. In their immediate front was the deep dug-out, -sod-roofed, where telephonists sat and waited. It was an artillery -observation post. The light was yet dim though the wet fog was white. -It had been quite dark when the two spectators had made their way over -roads deep in mud to this position of vantage. - -The journey had been long, for their car had had to squeeze, lurching -and slithering, past endless columns of infantry plodding over the -atrocious roads. In the darkness those thousands of men had been -scarcely more visible than phantoms who sang continuously as they -marched, chorusing to the tune set by picked singers at the head of -each company. Those who were merely the chorus broke off frequently -to shout witticisms at the labouring motor-car. In high spirits, they -wagered that they would be the first, after all, to arrive in Verdun. - -On the hill-top of the Twin of Ornes, where the officers clustered, was -tense expectation. The fog did not lift. Only at rare intervals was -there a faint glimpse of the wooded heights towards which all gazed -with thrilling foreknowledge. As yet all was a quiet broken only by -an occasional isolated detonation that rolled heavily down the Orne -valley. It echoed in a dull repercussion from the mist-filled woods -upon the great scarp that was the far-flung rampart of the doomed -city. An officer looked at his watch. The example was infectious. The -seconds, the minutes passed slowly. It was like waiting for the curtain -to go up. The watches marked 8.13 (German time)--8.14--8.15! - -There was one simultaneous vast roar that leaped from an arc stretching -from far in the north-west and passing round behind them to the -south. It did not cease. Minute after minute it continued, unabated, -prolonged. In the first sudden shock it appeared one colossal bellow -of sound, evenly maintained. But as the ear became accustomed to it, -instinctively analysed it, it was possible to distinguish spasms of -even fiercer sound than the general welter: the ponderous concussion of -especially heavy ordnance; the frenzied hammering of the quickfiring -field-guns. The sense of hearing was overwrought, but the view changed -not. The mist still hung over the landscape, was a curtain before the -straining eye. Only down below them to the right a howitzer battery, -adventurously pushed forward, rent the fog with stabs of orange-red -flame. - -It seemed, in the overpowering blast of the German guns, that the -French artillery was making no general reply. From time to time a shell -came whining over towards them, finished in an ugly rush and a crash -somewhere upon the knoll. They scarcely noticed these occasional djinns -of death, so ineffective were they by contrast to the whirlwind of -destruction that swept the other way. The habituated ear could now pick -out the rumbling tramcar-like progress of the heavy shells overhead, -the fierce rushing drone of the missiles from lighter guns, mingling -interwoven with the uninterrupted sheet of sound. - -What was happening over there among the dank, wooded hills? Nothing -could be seen, but the experienced imagination sketched, conscious that -it fell below the reality, fearful havoc distant in the fog. Trees -suddenly blasted, toppling; parapets leaping into the air--horrors -among the spout of earth that had been a sheltered dug-out; trenches -whose walls fell in; men who cowered, fear-paralysed, in a shambles; -overhead a ceaseless cracking that rained down death; shock upon shock; -chaos--such flitted through the minds of those who strained their eyes -at the fog. An artillery observation officer turned to the neutral. - -"Five hours of this, Excellenz," he said with a smile, "and then, the -first step to Verdun!" - -The Oberst expatiated on the wonderful German system for supplying all -these batteries indefinitely at this intensity of fire. "Who can resist -us?" was the implied corollary to his dissertation. The neutral was -duly impressed, his dark clever eyes serious. - -The bombardment continued, became monotonous. The fog thinned somewhat -but permitted no clear vision. The batteries were firing by the map, -according to a prearranged programme. The Oberst suggested to his -distinguished guest that further stay was useless. - -"I would like to see your guns at work, Herr Oberst," said the -neutral, and the colonel saw himself forced to put aside his hopes of -returning to Corps Headquarters for _Mittagessen_. He speculated on the -Divisional Messes in their vicinity as he replied: - -"By all means, Excellenz." - -They scrambled down the rough path of the knoll, through a thin growth -of birch, passed into the denser mist below. - -They found themselves suddenly among long ranks of resting infantry -squatting and lying in close proximity to their piled arms. The -feld-grau uniforms merged, were lost in the fog, but there was an -indefinable suggestion of the presence of many thousands. The Oberst -and his guest might walk where they would, the shadowy grey forms -still loomed up out of the mist. All were cheerful and confident. The -officers in little groups smiling as they conversed, bent over a map. -The men grinning. They were waiting for the guns to level the path for -their "promenade." - -At last the ranks of infantry ceased. They came upon a field battery -that was firing furiously. The guns were in the open, their upturned -caissons--lid upright to form a shield, exposing the pigeon-holed bases -of the cartridges--close against the left wheel. Grouped behind each -were the busy gunners, in rapid movement of arms and torso, crouching, -labouring with swift concentrated intensity as they passed the long, -gleaming projectile from hand to hand, thrust it into the breech, -closed and fired. Behind them was a heap of brass cartridge-cases, the -flat compartmented baskets that had held three rounds. The watching -officers, helmeted, in long closely-buttoned coats, stood behind their -sections. The battery hurled out its stream of death in absolute -immunity. No enemy shell came to seek it. The fog veiled its target. - -Beyond that battery was another, in the open like the first, almost -wheel to wheel with it. And beyond that, another and yet others, an -endless chain of them, all scorning concealment, all firing as fast as -sweating, straining men could load and pull the lever. From behind came -the prolonged, heavy, linked detonations of yet other batteries of more -weighty metal. Overhead the rumble and rush of hurrying shells was as -the sound of heavy traffic. - -The neutral and his guide turned eastwards towards the zone of the -great howitzers. Once more they were entangled in waiting masses -of grey-clad infantry. The mist had thinned, permitted quite long -vistas. Everywhere there was infantry, battalion upon battalion, -regiment on regiment, brigade after brigade. The time had passed--by -the neutral, at least, almost unnoticed, so much was there for his -brain to register--it was now almost noon. The infantry was standing -to its ranks, forming into column of route, marching forward with -songs and shouts, their spiked helmets decorated with sprigs of fir. -"_Vorwaerts!_" came the sharp, barking commands of the officers. "_Nach -Verdun!_" shouted the excited men, drunk with the prospect of superbly -easy victory. - -And ever the indefatigable batteries hammered and crashed, spewing -forth death in volumes that the men they served might live. From behind -every hedge, every hillock; in long lines across the open--so many that -they could afford to neglect the enemy's reply; their tongues of flame -shot out, flickered indefinitely repeated into the distance. Their -infinitely reiterated detonations smote splittingly upon the ear, were -gathered into one overpowering roar. - -The dark mass of the Foret de Spincourt was riven by red flame that -lit and was gone momentarily in every part of its recesses. As the two -officers approached it, they saw a faint film of smoke hanging over -the tree-tops, saw the quick flashes gleaming through the undergrowth -of the verge. They entered its obscurity. The air choked one with -the fumes of burnt explosive, beat against the face in gusts with -the disturbance of the multiplied discharges. The wood was a nest of -howitzer batteries. On platforms of concrete and timber the monsters -squatted, bowed their head to receive yet another shell, raised it -again with slow, determined movement, the great round jaws gaping -upward to the sky, belched with a sudden eructation of vivid flame, -a tremendous shock of which the stunning noise was only part. The -spectator behind the gun, looking upward, saw a black object speeding -high into the air, rapidly diminishing, the while a rain of twigs -pattered down upon his face. As the barrel was lowered again, the -breech opened, slow curling tongues of flame licked round the muzzle. -Behind each weapon were great stacks of shells. Hurrying men, two at a -time, a tray supported on two short poles between them, carried more -food to the iron monster, fed its fuming breech for yet another roar. - -Further within the wood were still greater monsters, so huge that -their aliment was trundled to them on light rails, swung into their -maw by overhanging cranes. The earth shook, the trees rocked, with the -vehemence of their discharge. - -"Frau Bertha has a most persuasive voice, _nicht wahr_?" said the -Oberst to his guest. The neutral agreed as courteously as was possible -in this chaos of bludgeoning noise. His dark eyes rested a little -contemptuously on the dapper, somewhat podgy colonel whose soul, -even in this crisis of nations, was still essentially the soul of a -commercial traveller. The order to Krupp's was not yet given. - -It was one o'clock--noon to the anxious French general far over -there in the terrible distance. As suddenly as it had commenced, the -vast bombardment ceased. There was an uncanny silence. All knew its -significance. The German infantry was advancing to the assault. With -what resistance would it be met? Every ear was at strain--machine-guns? -There was no sound. Suddenly the bombardment opened again, as violent -as before. The German guns were putting a screen of death behind the -doomed positions, barring off all help. Far away huge shells were -crashing down from a curve that was four miles high at its zenith, -making an inferno of a once quiet cathedral town, wrecking the bridges -across a flooded river, blocking every avenue of supply to the -defenders agonising on the plateau. - -That night in the Army Headquarters was a night of jubilation. Courtier -soldiers--who none the less laboured into the small hours at the -intricate calculations and orders that would improve the victory on -the morrow--glanced at a youngish, very exalted personage and murmured -platitudes about the pardonable intoxication of success. An even -more exalted personage strode from general to general in the great -tapestried, map-hung apartment and gave instructions that were received -as the inspiration of genius and then merged, lost sight of, nullified -in the mass of orders that emanated from those fiercely toiling brains. - -The distinguished guest sat at the table with the keen-eyed, -white-browed general, had everything patiently explained to him. - -"All has gone exactly according to schedule," said the German. "The -first line positions are ours. There has been a counter-attack in the -Bois de Caures, but we have stemmed it. Elsewhere there has been no -serious opposition. The first day has been a brilliant success. We -have pierced the line where we intended to pierce it. If the French -maintain their flank positions their disaster is certain. The battle -will be developed to-morrow. We shall drive right through to the -Ornes-Louvemont road. The French defence is dead, was annihilated by -our bombardment. To-morrow disintegration will set in and our progress -will be rapid. On the third day we shall take Fort Douaumont--the key -to Verdun." - -"And on the fourth day?" queried the neutral, his dark eyes gazing at -the map in front of him. - -"We shall be in Verdun!" said the German. - -"_Verdun! Verdun! Nach Verdun--Paris!_" chanted an unsteady voice -across the room, finished in a suspicious resemblance to a hiccup. -There was a moment of tense, awkward silence in the great apartment, -and then a buzz of low voices earnestly discussing technicalities. - - * * * * * - -Day followed day, surcharged with fateful issues. Men who flung -themselves down, utterly wearied, to snatch a brief sleep, woke -from it with an oppression of the breast, a tremor of the nerves. -Their fiercely excited brains begrudged an instant's unconsciousness -where every minute was a vehicle of destiny, once ahead never to be -overtaken. Strenuously, night and day, laboured the Staffs in the Army -Headquarters, in the Corps, Divisions, Artillery Groups--desperately, -for after the second day they were behind their time-table. On that -second day the French defence they had fondly thought annihilated woke -to sternly resisting life. There had been terrific fighting on the -whole front from Brabant to Ornes. Once more a frightful bombardment -had opened with the dawn. Once more the German infantry had advanced -in masses. They found the trenches in front of them weakly held, had -occupied them. But _en route_ a storm of shells had rained down on the -swarming columns, had strewn the ground with dead and dying. Further -advance was barred by sheets of rifle-fire, torrents of machine-gun -bullets. There were ugly rumours as to losses. The day's objective had -not been reached. Counter-attacks had flung the grey infantry out of -positions already conquered. - -During the black night of the 22nd-23rd, while the gun-teams of the -German batteries strained and stumbled forward over a shell-torn ground -to new positions, the French left flank had fallen back from Brabant. -The German guns hurled an avalanche of projectiles blindly upon the -new lines of defence, more or less at hazard since no longer did they -have them accurately marked upon the map. Once more the grey masses -swept forward, once more the hail of shells beat them down. The end -of that day saw the centre pushed in with wild confusion, but the -French resistance still alive, determined to perish rather than break. -Once more the objective had not been attained. Douaumont was not even -menaced. The time-table was hopelessly out. That night the French fell -back on both flanks, withdrew from Ornes. - -The fourth day dawned--the appointed day for final victory--and still -the struggle continued, fiercer than ever. Slowly, slowly, the German -infantry pressed forward, leaving behind them a sea of helpless -bodies--a grey carpet as perceived from a distance. The artillery fire -swelled and mounted in paroxysms of incredible violence, the German -guns hammering in savage persistence, the French batteries lurking -for their target, overwhelming it in a deluge. On and on pressed the -grey infantry, thrust dangerously as night fell straight at the heart, -towards Fort Douaumont. A fierce conflict--body to body, rifles that -flashed in the face of the victim, bayonets perforce shortened for -the thrust, griping fingers clutching at the throat as men wrestled -and swayed--raved and roared in an indescribable tumult upon the -Ornes-Louvemont road. The defenders had made a supreme rally. The -Germans fought like men who grasp at victory, maddened that it is -withheld. The French fought like heroes, desperately outnumbered, -who know their duty is to die. When night fell the defence was still -intact, but the French had withdrawn to their last line, covering -Douaumont. - -"We have still one more day," said the German general to the -distinguished neutral that night in the great map-hung apartment. "We -allowed that margin of time. To-morrow will see our greatest effort, -Douaumont in our hands, Verdun untenable." The dark eyes of the neutral -read a certain nervousness in the German's face, despite the confident -tone. - -"It has proved rather more difficult than you expected?" - -"The French field-guns have been terrible--terrible," replied the -German. "Without them----" He waved an expressive hand. "But to-morrow -we shall deliver the _coup de grace_. We have not boasted idly, -Excellenz." His eyes looked searchingly through their pince-nez on the -calmly interested face of the neutral. "When Germany threatens she -performs." - -On the morning of the 25th the German guns roared over white fields -of snow, through veils of the softly falling flakes that fluttered -inexhaustibly from the leaden sky. Their thunder swelled louder and -ever louder as the batteries which had changed position, consequently -upon the French withdrawal during the night, got to work, searching -for their target, more or less accurately finding it despite the -difficulty of observation. Not a minute was to be lost. The anxious -German staff knew that the reinforcements of their foes must be -hurrying--hurrying. Some perhaps had already arrived. If night fell -without definite victory, the morrow would surely see fresh masses -against them, reinvigorating the defence. Victory to-day--complete -victory--Douaumont captured, the pursuit pressed into the streets of -Verdun--meant victory indeed. Mighty therefore was the effort. By noon -every German battery was firing at its maximum. Under the leaden sky, -over the white ground, in the still cold of a bitter frost, their -thunder swelled and crashed, roaring in a never-ending frenzy. Eighteen -German divisions were massed to break down all opposition. Already they -had attacked--again and again. Again and again, the rapid detonations -of the French guns had leaped into the din, smiting desperately, -frantically, to stay them. Over there, in the mist-hung gullies of the -plateau, on its bare open spaces between the woods, the snow had ceased -to be white--save where it fell freshly upon the huddled bodies of the -fallen. - -In the afternoon the weather cleared somewhat. More distant views -were possible. On the higher of the Twins of Ornes, the knolls just -south-west of the Foret de Spincourt, stood the figure who more than -any other individual would have to dare the answer for all the agony -rolled out there before him, for all the agony that no eye could -measure, spread over continents, crying to strange stars. Spiked -helmet on his head, long grey cavalry-cloak wrapped about him, his -field-glasses held to his eyes by the right hand only, he gazed upon -the now distant conflict. At his side stood a younger figure, his face -masked also by binoculars. Behind them was a group of dignitaries, -generals of high position, the distinguished neutral and the Oberst who -never quitted him. All gazed to the wooded scarp of the Heights of the -Meuse, their glasses pointing south-south-west. - -The great masses of woodland rose dark from the snow of the plain a -long stretch of undulating, climbing tree-tops. Beyond them the bare -bulk of the plateau humped itself yet higher, dirty grey against the -sky. It rose to a culminating knoll--Douaumont! All that bare plateau -was whelmed in a drifting reek, but the highest point was like a -volcano in eruption. Great founts of smoke shot up from it incessantly, -spread in the air in heavy plumes that overhung. It was the objective -of the 3rd Corps (Brandenburgers), attacking under the eye of the -Kaiser so particularly their chief. Their orders were that Douaumont -was to be taken at all costs. On the Twin of Ornes operators from Army -Headquarters had taken over the telephone dug-out. Behind them the line -was clear to Berlin--waiting--waiting for the triumphant announcement -that should thrill the world. - -Somewhat impatiently the neutral scanned the lofty distances where the -great drama was being enacted. Innumerable puffs of bursting shells -indicated the conflict but gave no hint of its varying fortunes. -The professional instinct was strong within him, the report to his -Government an ideal to which it strove. To perfect that report he -must see the fight at closer quarters, must describe the effects of -the French fire as a complement to the already written minute on the -German batteries. His keen eye picked out a position of vantage on the -Heights. Then he waited for an opportunity, alert for the moment when -the eye of majesty should rest itself from the distant view, should -fall upon him. The opportunity occurred. The glance of the All-Highest -swept over him, preoccupied. The neutral stepped forward, saluted, -indicated the far-off point. - -"_Ich bitte um Erlaubnis, Majestaet_,"[15] he said. - -A frowning glance rested upon him for an instant, intolerant of aught -save the mighty contest whose issue was the fate of nations. - -"_Gestattet_,"[16] was the curt, indifferent reply. - -The German Oberst, standing behind the neutral, changed colour. He had -no option but to accompany this damnable foreigner in his mad adventure -into unnecessary danger. He, too, saluted "Majestaet," followed the -neutral to the spot where a number of orderlies stood at the heads of -saddled horses. They had been sent forward in case the dignitaries -should require them. - -In a few moments the two officers, followed by mounted attendants, were -slithering down the snowy side of the knoll, were cantering across the -valley towards Ornes. - -High above them towered the dark Bois de la Chaume as they threaded -the debris-covered street of the wrecked village. It was packed with -Brandenburger infantry waiting to advance. They followed the road -southward, at the foot of the hills, towards Bezonvaux. Everywhere the -infantry stood thick, waiting. The cannonade mounted to a frightful -intensity, appalling even the ears now habituated to it, bewildering -the senses, troubling the sight. French shells came whining, screaming, -rushing, to burst with loud crashes in the woodland rising on their -right hand, on the road and the fields through which it passed. Domes -of dark smoke leaped upward from the earth, preceding the stunning, -metallic detonation. White shrapnel puffs clustered thickly above the -trees. Bezonvaux was a ruin. They turned off from it to the right, -up a rough track that climbed into the woods. The snow on the track -had been trampled into a dirty slush. All about them lay bodies, grey -and blue; weapons pell-mell as they had fallen from a suddenly opened -grasp. Their horses shuddered, whinnied, jerked nervous ears, moved -disconcertingly sideways from red stains soaking deep into the snow. - -Just under the edge of the plateau the neutral stopped, dismounted, -threw his reins to an orderly. The Oberst followed his example. His -face was blotchy white, he trembled in every limb. - -"We shall see nothing, Excellenz--absolutely nothing," he asseverated -appealingly. - -"We can at least try," replied his guest. "Something is happening over -there." - -Above them, some distance ahead, was a tremendous uproar, a chaos of -violent thudding slams, splitting crashes, a faint troublous murmur of -human voices. Behind them, up the rough track, a column of infantry -was advancing, overtaking them. They ascended with a steady progress, -splashing through the slush; officers waving swords, shouting; rank -upon rank of tense faces that had lost their humanity in the tremulous -brute; glazed staring eyes under the spiked helmets; singing, singing -like drugged, doomed gladiators marching to the arena. They passed -upward. - -The neutral, to whom his conductor had nervelessly surrendered the -initiative, led the way. They left their horses behind them, struck off -at a tangent to the right, through the woods, climbing always. They -emerged upon the plateau, in a clearing. Across the open space, from -a whelm of smoke and noise in the distance, groups of grey men were -running swiftly towards them, shouting inarticulately. Along the edge -of the woods was a line of pickets. Their weapons rose to the shoulder. -Sternly, every fugitive but those wounded was driven again into the -fight. Those who hesitated, screaming under the menace of the rifle, -dropped shot. - -The neutral hurried along the verge of the wood, scanning every tall -tree carefully, expectantly. "Ah!" He had found what he sought. -Against the green bark of a lofty beech dangled a rope ladder. It was -an abandoned French artillery observation post. He scrambled up the -ladder, followed by the trembling, shivering Oberst. High up among the -topmost branches was a little platform. - -The neutral settled himself, adjusted his binoculars, pushed aside -the twigs. He looked out over an undulating terrain, dark with woods -that ceased raggedly in deep indentations short of a bare hog's back -that gathered itself into a hump. That bare ground was smothered in a -turmoil of smoke that fumed to the grey sky, far to right and left. -But through it, in chance rifts, his glasses revealed a dark mass -upon the highest point. A reek of white smoke drifted away from it as -from burning buildings, mingling with the darker clouds of incessant -explosions. He had a glimpse of a rounded cupola. It was Douaumont! - -The snow on the open space between the fort and the woods was grey. It -was moving with crawling life like the festering of a stagnant pool. -Over it burst occasional puffs of shrapnel. - -"Ah!" The cry was involuntary from both the watching men. From the -woods emerged masses of running tiny grey figures, running, running -towards the fort. The open space was covered with them. A moment of -tense expectation when the heart seemed to stop--and then, as by a -terrible magic, great fountains of dark smoke and darker objects leaped -up among those running figures, countless explosions. A canopy of -vicious little shrapnel bursts in thousands spread itself over them. -Under it men sprawled in great patches, seemed to be fighting the air -ere they tumbled and fell. A horrid screaming came faint through the -uproar. More masses rushed out, were beaten down. There was a running -to and fro of men bewildered--a headlong flight. - -The storm of fire did not cease. It rolled over the plateau towards the -woods, remorselessly following the fugitives. Louder and louder, nearer -and nearer, the crashes, the fountains, the puffs--the great mingled -reek of the inferno--rolled towards the two men in the observation post. - -The Oberst clutched the neutral's arm. - -"Excellenz!" he shouted stammeringly. "We must go. I insist. I have -superior authority--written authority--my discretion--I insist!" he -almost screamed. His hand groped for a scrap of paper which he waved. -"Arrest!" he cried like a maniac. "Arrest if you do not come!" - -The storm of French shells was a very near menace. The neutral -acquiesced with a shrug of his shoulders. Nimbly they descended the -ladder. - -On the ground they found themselves among a swarm of slightly wounded, -terror-stricken men. One of them, a tall, bearded Brandenburger, his -clothes torn to rags, was shrieking and laughing in a manner horrible -to hear. His comrades drew away from him as he clutched at them. He was -insane. - -"Only I am left!" he cried. "Only I! They are all dead--dead--out -there. They were meant to be dead. They were dead men before we -attacked--all dead men running on--I could see it in their faces--only -I was alive! And now they are still crawling--crawling--dead men!" -His tone emphasised the horror of his words, struck a chill. A sentry -lowered his rifle, irresolutely. - -The maniac turned, waved a hand to the westward. The sun, on the point -of setting, showed itself in a rift of the threatening snow clouds, -sank, a great ball of glowing fire, over the rim of the plateau. Its -last rays were lurid on the face of the madman, as he stood, arm -outstretched, his eyes flaming, his tangled beard falling upon his -rags, like some antique prophet of the wilderness. - -"Woe! woe!" he shrieked. "_Nach Verdun! Nach -Verdun--Verdunkelung!_"[17] He finished in a scream of maniac -laughter, glorying in the crazy assonance of the words. "_Nach -Verdun--Verdunkelung!_" - -The neutral and the Oberst hurried through the woods to their horses. - -A rapid ride with the German always in front, and once more they -ascended the Twin of Ornes. As they arrived at the summit they found -themselves among wildly cheering men. "_Douaumont! Douaumont is -taken!_" Far away to the south-south-west, rocket after rocket shot up -into the darkening sky. Already the great news had gone--electrical--to -Berlin. - -The crowd of dignitaries descended the steep path in the gloom to where -the motor-cars were ranked in waiting. Along the road passed streams of -wounded who could walk, phantoms half-distinguished in the dim light. -Joyous were the voices of the War-Lords. One, a familiar tone, chanted: -"_Nach Verdun! Nach Verdun--Paris!_"[18] - -Out of the darkness came a screamed reply, a burst of insane laughter. - -"_Nach Verdun--Verdunkelung! Nach Verdun--Verdunkelung!_" - -It was the voice of the crazed Brandenburger. There was a scuffle, the -sound of a man hurried away, resisting. - -All through that dark journey as the car bumped and lurched over the -atrocious roads, the words beat in a refrain through the mind of the -neutral. "_Nach Verdun--Verdunkelung!_" He wondered. Eclipse? Was it -the sun of Germany that set on the French position? The Oberst was -loquaciously cheerful. - -That night, in the great map-hung apartment, the War-Lords received -the news that their further advance was barred. - -Next morning a furious counter-attack surrounded a handful of defenders -in the fort for which they had paid so much. The French reinforcements -had arrived. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 11: War economy.] - -[Footnote 12: "The thing is absolutely simple!"] - -[Footnote 13: Vide Mr. John Buchan's _History of the War_, Vol. XIII.] - -[Footnote 14: "Nach" means "to, towards," and also "after."--"To -Verdun! _After_ Verdun--Paris!"] - -[Footnote 15: "I beg permission, Your Majesty."] - -[Footnote 16: "Granted."] - -[Footnote 17: "To Verdun! _After_ Verdun--Eclipse."] - -[Footnote 18: "To Verdun! After Verdun--Paris!"] - - - - -THE CHATELAINE OF LYSBOISEE - -(AN IDYLL BETWEEN THE TRENCHES, 1914) - - (Note.--This story is founded upon an actual occurrence narrated by - Paul Grabein, "Im Auto durch Feindesland," Berlin, 1916.) - - -The sun set while a regiment of Zouaves was marching across the -plateau. The after-glow yet illumined the sky when its leading files -turned obliquely off to the right along a rough track that presently -dropped abruptly into a deep ravine, sculped by one of the streamlet -tributaries of the Oise. Bare for a little way below the lip, save -for some scattered juniper bushes stiffly perpendicular from the -close-cropped slope, the sides of the ravine were dark with a dense -growth of tree and thorn. The road plunged into it. - -Down and down went the road in a gloomy tunnel of arching boughs that -scarce left an interstice for the twilight sky. It reached the floor of -the little valley, followed it to the right in a more gentle descent. -On its left a brook fell swiftly through a plantation of silver birch -in a channel that brimmed to the long, rank, water-flattened grass and -anon plashed over boulders in a miniature cascade. Save for the steady -tramp of the marching troops and the occasional squawk of a frightened -jay, there was no sound in the valley. - -Mounted upon a magnificent black horse, the colonel rode at the head of -the column. Seen in profile, his face was remarkable--virile, powerful, -and intellectual. When it turned to full face it fascinated. Not the -steel-grey eyes looked for under those level brows, but a pair of full -brown orbs, romantic as those of an Arab, met the gaze. He raised his -hand as the column approached a pair of high ornamental iron gates, set -in a frame of lofty arched stone and surmounted by a carved escutcheon, -on the left side of the road. "Halt!" - -Behind him there was a clatter of accoutrements as the long column -broke its ranks, settled itself in seated groups, with piled arms, by -the roadside. In front, the advance-guard, receiving the order from -the connecting files, halted also. The colonel walked his horse to the -gates. The padlocked chain that had held them closed hung broken from -one of the wrought-iron scrolls. The gates had evidently been forced. -He pressed his horse's flank against one of them, slipped through the -opening, and set off at a trot down a long avenue of ancient poplars. -His capitaine-adjutant, cantering up from the leading company, followed -the wave of his hand. - -Beyond the clearing of lawn and Cupid-crowned fountain into which he -emerged, lay a long white stone mansion, picturesque but not remarkable -in its seventeenth-century architecture. Every window was shuttered. -Throwing the reins to his companion, he dismounted and, with the stiff -gait from long hours in the saddle, ascended the broad curving steps to -the main entrance. - -Only at his second summons on the loud, harshly clanging bell was there -any answering sign of life. One of the great doors opened slightly -until checked by a chain, and a woman's voice asked: "Who is it?" - -"French officers, madame. Is the _patronne_ at home?" - -"I cannot see you," said the voice, evading the question. - -The colonel placed himself so as to be visible through the narrow -aperture. "Attendez!" said the voice. The door closed again. - -A minute or two of waiting in the chill, misty air and once more the -door opened, this time fully. "Entrez, monsieur!" said the voice. - -He found himself in a large lofty hall, dimly illumined by the candle -held by a little bent old woman. "Par ici, monsieur!" she said. - -She led him through salon after salon. In the flickering light he could -only just discern that they were richly furnished. At last she stopped -and tapped at a closed door. - -He was admitted into an apartment of costly and tasteful comfort, lit -with warm soft radiance from a shaded pedestal lamp. Pine logs were -burning on the hearth of a high stone fireplace. To one side stood a -grand piano. A great dog, stretched before the hearth, growled surlily. -These were salient details he was scarcely conscious of noting. His -eyes were held by the woman who rose from an arm-chair by the fire. - -Tall, gowned simply in a long robe of soft pale green, the lamplight -shimmered on the waved masses of her auburn hair as she moved. Not -vulgarly beautiful--the mouth was large, though well-cut--an oval -ivory-white face looked into his. No longer very young--she was at -least thirty--her instantly felt charm came accentuated by a hint of -incomplete maturity. Those quiet eyes could still look at life with a -questioning scrutiny, receptive of the new experience. They met his -now and a personality leaped into them, communed with him ere yet a -word had been uttered. Outwardly, only, they were still strangers. He -noticed that she wore no jewellery as he bowed courteously, fez in hand. - -"Madame, I am the colonel of the --th Regiment of Zouaves. A necessity, -that must be disagreeable to you, forces me to ask your hospitality for -my officers and men." - -"For to-night only?" Her voice was singularly deep and rich. - -"Perhaps for several, madame." - -"You are many?" - -"Eleven hundred men and twenty officers." - -"A strong battalion!" - -"Three battalions, madame," he corrected gently. - -The expression of the eyes, which had never left his, changed slightly. -The wordless, languageless message they were exchanging with his own -was interrupted. "Ah," she said in a voice of sympathy. "You come from -the battle? From the Marne?" - -"Yes, madame. We were on the Ourcq. Since then, on the Aisne." - -Her face lit up. - -"But certainly! Who would refuse anything to the brave men who have -saved France! You will excuse the coolness of your reception, Monsieur -le colonel? We have had other guests--less welcome." The colonel -thought of the broken chain on the gate. "Marie!" This to the old woman -who stood by the door, shading the candle in her hand, incongruous -in this luxurious apartment. "Place the large dining-room at the -disposition of _messieurs les officiers_. The kitchen also." She turned -again to the colonel. "I can offer only ten bedrooms to your officers, -Monsieur le colonel, but doubtless they can arrange themselves. The -stables are large, there are three barns and a disused mill, and there -is a loft at the top of the house. I hope you will find room for all -your men. There is plenty of straw in the barns. They may use it -freely. Please consider the house entirely at your disposition." And -all this time the eyes were talking wordlessly. And his, although he -knew it not, were replying. - -"You are too kind, madame!" - -"It is a happy privilege, Monsieur le colonel!" - -His business was finished, yet he felt curiously unwilling to go, much -though awaited him to do. His apology seemed addressed as much to his -own hidden inner self as to her. - -"Mille remerciments, madame! You will excuse me if I withdraw? My men -are very tired. Once more, a thousand thanks, madame----?" - -She answered his unuttered question, a smile lighting up eyes and face. - -"--La comtesse de Beaupre et Lysboisee." - -He bowed. - -"Le colonel Victor de Montevrault." - -She held out a slender hand. Involuntarily, almost, he touched it with -his lips as he took it in his own. She did not stir. He did not see her -face. - -"Au revoir, madame, et tous mes remerciments!" - -"Au revoir, monsieur," she answered in her rich, deep voice. - -He felt her eyes upon him as he turned to follow Marie, candle in hand, -once more through the series of dark apartments. - -A little later and the chateau and its precincts were thronged with the -soldiers of the three war-worn battalions as they installed themselves -for the night. From the great yard between the stables and the barns -came the glow of cooking fires. - -But not for all was the hour of rest arrived. In a little room of the -chateau the colonel, with his three _chefs de bataillon_ of whom one -only was a major, was poring over a large-scale map and indicating the -positions for the lines of sentries, outposts and _grand'gardes_. Up -the opposite side of the ravine to that which they had ascended, well -in advance across the high open ground, and down the valley road he -posted them. On the three battalion commanders the greatest vigilance -was enjoined. Ahead of them there should be French cavalry, but those -were the days of flux and reflux in the meeting tides of war, and all -things were possible. - -Later still, the colonel sat at the head of the long lamp-lit table -in the great dining-room. From the walls dim portraits in lustreless -frames looked down upon the backs of the loudly chattering Frenchmen -in the exotic, Oriental uniforms. There was little or no talk of the -bitter, terrible but finally victorious days through which they--it -seemed to each of them miraculously--had lived. Animated discussion -of the future was the rule--a future confidently regarded through the -glow of the so recently victorious past. Bold strategic plans were -elaborated, illustrated with cruet and table-knives. There was much -talk of envelopment, of a rapid dash on Le Cateau, Valenciennes and -Mons that should hurl the Boche, deprived of his communications, into -the tangled thicket of the Ardennes, if indeed he escaped at all. The -colonel took no part in these arguments. He sat silently sipping the -wine which a generous hostess had caused to be placed in ample quantity -upon the table. His large brown eyes were soft, the muscles of his face -relaxed. It is possible that he thought of something quite other than -war. - -One of the soldier orderlies flitting behind the chairs touched him on -the shoulder. - -"Pardon, mon colonel, but the domestic wishes to speak to you." - -He turned in his chair to see the ancient Marie at the door. - -"Madame presents her compliments, m'sieu le colonel, and would be -honoured if you would take your coffee with her." - -The colonel rose in his chair. - -"Bonsoir et bonne nuit, messieurs!" - -"Bonsoir, mon colonel," was reiterated from the score of upturned -faces. "Bonne nuit." - -In her cosy warm salon the chatelaine sat by the fire, a glow softly -playing over her features. At her side, on a little table, a silver -coffee-service steamed. As the colonel entered she looked up to greet -him with a smile, indicating the corresponding arm-chair on the other -side of the hearth. The large dog at her feet raised his head, wagged -his tail in friendly welcome. - -In a few moments they were conversing with the ease of those who -have known each other for long years. Wartime, and particularly the -kaleidoscopic wartime of those early days, is a great ripener of -acquaintance. None might venture to forecast the circumstances of the -morrow, to predict continued life for self or other. The actual moment -must be snatched. The colonel with his quiet assured poise, his alert -intelligence; the countess, polished grande dame and yet something -more, a being of exquisite intuitions, would have set, naturally, to -partners whatever the circumstances of their meeting. Each of the pair -offered interest to the other. He, soldierly, his massive intellectual -head on the broad shoulders, the glowing soft eyes so strangely set -in the cold face, the Oriental Zouave uniform emphasising their hint -of romance, claimed the eye not less than her slender figure, gowned -with the refinement of a consummate civilisation, her supple yet strong -carriage of the auburn glory that crowned the pale oval face, the -flowing, delicate curve from rounded chin to the gently mobile breast. -Her eloquent eyes were long-lashed, downcast towards the fire. He was -asking the reason of her stay here in the danger zone. She turned them -upon him. - -"This is my own house--my family's house--the chateau of Lysboisee. -Since my husband's death three years ago I have always inhabited it for -a great part of the year. I have always loved it. I was a child in this -dark ravine, among the birches of the water-meadows. My own life--that -I have never shared with anyone--is here. I am of the country. All the -peasant people know me, love me. And when the war came I felt that I -must be among them, that I could not leave my house, my own dear house, -alone, unprotected against anything that might happen. So I hurried -here at a time when everybody was hurrying the other way. But the -servants had gone. Only old Marie remained, and she and I have lived -here all these black weeks, only Roland," she patted the dog's head -smilingly, "to watch over us. We have had many visits from the German -cavalry, but no violence. They saw, perhaps, that I was not afraid. Now -the people are beginning to creep back to their homes." - -He nodded his head sympathetically, described how the peasants of the -Aisne valley crept back to their farms, continued their field-tasks -close behind the trenches, apparently indifferent to the shrapnel and -the _marmites_. - -"Yes," she murmured, gazing thoughtfully into the fire, "amidst so -much death the flame of life burns ever higher, will not, must not be -extinguished." - -There was a little pause, during which the colonel sipped his coffee. -Lightly, with the smile of a prima ballerina pirouetting away from -a serious posture into which she would have you believe she fell -unwittingly, the countess commenced to talk of Paris of the days before -the war. With a young enthusiasm she spoke of her morning rides in the -Bois, of restaurants and dinner-parties--mentioning a name here and -there that might lead to the discovery of a mutual acquaintance, of -concerts and the play. The colonel listened, speaking little, seeing -her--though she did not so much as hint at them--circled by a crowd of -admirers. - -"And madame," she said innocently, "does she inhabit Paris?" - -"Madame----?" He was obviously at a loss. - -"You are not married, then?" - -"No, madame." - -"But," she persisted gently, "you have doubtless friends in Paris? A -man such as you----" she stopped, smiling. "I am indiscreet." - -"Madame," he replied in a quiet voice, "I have been in Africa for more -than twenty years. The Paris I knew exists no more." - -She turned her gaze full on him. The freshness of the man appeared -suddenly to her. An involuntary little blush suffused her face. She -covered it by a slight withdrawal from the fire. - -"Tell me about Africa," she commanded. - -He spoke at first depreciatingly of the country, the grave of so many -of France's best, so remote from all that to a Frenchman makes life -worth while. Then as he warmed to his description she saw that he loved -that parched land of immense distances where the pitiless sun consumes -the human soul or heats it to an intense unworldly fervour. He told of -interminable marches over the glowing sands, of forgotten skirmishes -where a wound was worse than death, of fierce razzias, of lonely -outpost nights in the desert underneath a miracle of stars, where under -the naked presence of the infinite one watched, finger on trigger, for -the gleam of a creeping burnous. She found herself seeking to detect a -deliberate elimination of the feminine in his reminiscences. With sure -instinct she felt there was a woman somewhere in the background. How -far back? - -"You have suffered much," she said, her deep rich voice all sympathy. - -"Who has not suffered who lives?" he replied. - -There was again a pause, where the breathing of the couched dog was the -only sound. - -"Will you not play something?" he asked, suddenly, looking at the -piano. "My opportunities have been few----" - -She rose, went to the piano, and seated herself without a word. She -played, not with the brilliance of the showy amateur nor with the hard -precision of the professional, but as though the notes on which her -light fingers fell re-echoed an intimate music of the soul. Through -the grave breath-restrained emotion of a Chopin Nocturne she led him, -then, with an enigmatic inconsequence, into the flitting, dainty, -Harlequin and Columbine passion of a Chaminade that left a question -poised, smilingly. A moment's interval, and with a deep contralto voice -she commenced to sing a chanson of old France, that followed, simply, -exquisite quiet notes, compact of love and the tragedy of love, -poignantly eloquent in their unadorned statement of the theme. He went -across to the piano, stood over her. She felt his presence very close. -A thrill passed into her voice, magical. She finished and stood up with -a sudden movement. His glowing eyes were full with tears. - -"Bonsoir, monsieur," she said abruptly, stretching out her hand. The -voice was not her own. - -He took her hand in his, held it tightly. His breath came in deep -halations from a heaving chest. - -"Madame," he said in a low intense voice, "you are divine!" - -She strove to release her hand. - -"_Voyons!_" she said plaintively, almost tearfully, averting her face. -"We met only to-day." - -"And to-morrow?--Who knows?" - -"No! no! no!" she cried and tore away her hand from his. "Bonsoir, -monsieur!" She ran across the room like a startled fawn, bowed herself -against the stone fireplace, her face hidden. He saw her shoulders -heave. - -He followed her, stood irresolute. She turned on him suddenly. - -"Oh, isn't there enough suffering in the world," she cried, -"without----?" - -"Without love?" He advanced with outstretched arms, laid his hands -upon her shoulders. She stiffened, fending him off. "Without love? If -to love is to suffer," he said in a voice deeply harmonious, "to love -is also to live. And I have waited so long to live! Have waited for -you, my twin soul! We met only to-day? What if we have only to-day to -live----?" - -She leaned back, away from him, yet held in his grasp. - -"Oh, no, no, no! I mustn't listen!" Her bosom filled. Her eyes closed. -She crumpled suddenly in his arms. - - * * * * * - -The next morning, mounted upon a fine-bred chestnut mare, a zealous -Zouave at the bridle, she waited in the great courtyard behind the -chateau. She had offered her knowledge of the locality to the colonel -and gladly he had accepted it. He came towards her now on his noble -black horse, bending down in grave talk with the chef de bataillon -walking by his stirrup. She acknowledged his salutation, and a moment -later they were riding out of the great gate together. - -The ravine of Lysboisee lifted its towering further wall of dark -undergrowth immediately behind the chateau. A narrow path, frequently -stepped, zigzagging through the hanger in steep gradients, made the -ascent of the sheer acclivity possible. Side by side they walked their -horses up, bending often in the saddle to escape the low overhanging -branches. They rode in silence, each in their own thoughts. She glanced -sideways at her companion. It was the face of a soldier, not of a -lover. Obviously he pondered some problem. She sighed. This undisturbed -solitude, the screen of thick woodland arching over them, on the -two pacing animals that nosed each other amicably, awoke primitive -instincts in her. But she kept silence, made no movement. - -At last, as though summoned by her thought, he turned his head towards -her. - -"You have received bad news, mon ami?" she asked. - -"Orders that throw a heavy responsibility upon me," he answered. - -Again they relapsed into silence. The ascent continued. Only a few -yards short of the summit did the undergrowth cease. - -For a dozen paces the path ran over bare close-cropped grass, then, -sunk in a rough cutting, surmounted the crest. - -A little beyond, on the open down, the grand'garde--a weak company of -Zouaves--was digging energetically at shelter-trenches. The colonel -spoke with the officer, rode on. - -"Would you please take me to the highest point, chere amie?" he asked. -The countess bowed her head, without a word. A touch of the spur, and -he followed her at an easy, touch-controlled canter, his horse eager to -get abreast the mare. At last she reined up, met his eyes with a smile. - -They stood upon a knoll in the downs, wide-spaced horizon all round. -Far to the south and east were the dark masses of the Foret de Laigue. -From beyond them came a heavy distant roll of artillery. The colonel -listened, searching the panorama with narrowed eyes. At his request -she pointed out localities and the direction of localities. He turned -to look backward, saw the lips of the ravine widening out to the -south-east until the slopes fell into another valley. His face hardened. - -"Let us go back, chere amie," he said. "As quickly as possible." - -At a swift, swinging gallop--the skirts of her amazon fluttering in the -wind--they hastened back to the grand'garde. The officer came up. The -colonel took out his note-book. - -"Have you any spades or farm implements, madame?" he asked. - -He nodded to her affirmation, writing the while in his note-book. He -tore out the page, folded it, gave it to the officer. "To be delivered -to the Commandant Legros at the Chateau. Without delay." - -Then he turned his horse and, followed by his companion, rode slowly -along the lip of the ravine. She searched his features, anxiously. - -He stopped in a depression of the down, out of sight of the -grand'garde. He turned to her, and her heart fluttered at the -tenderness of his face. - -"Pauline," he said gravely, laying his hand upon her arm, "you must not -stay here. Listen! The regiment on our left extends to the head of the -ravine. The orders I received this morning left me to choose on which -side of the ravine I should place my trenches. We advance no further. -We are only a screen, but the screen must be maintained, must not be -risked. I am obliged to choose the other side of the ravine. We shall -almost certainly be attacked. I do not know when--nothing is known. -But you would be in danger. You must leave this afternoon, go right -back--to Amiens, Paris." - -She checked an impulse to quick speech, smiled at him. - -"Mon ami, I was almost unjust to you----" - -"You will go?" - -She shook her head. - -"No, cher ami, I remain with you." - -"But if we are attacked and have to retire to the other side of the -ravine? You cannot remain in the trenches." - -"No. I should remain in my house until you advance again." She turned -an appealing, coquettish glance upon him. "Should I be something to -fight for?" She checked his protestations. "No, cher ami, I know all -your arguments. They are useless. What did you say last night?--What if -we have only to-day to live?" Her voice sank, her eyes dropped. "Cher -ami, I want not a moment that your duty claims,--but those others, -those precious little instants, can you not accept me in them? So -little time is ours, _cher_!" - -The horses had drawn close together. He put his right arm round her -waist. She leaned back, face upturned. Their eyes met in a long deep -look. Their mouths approached, were one. The flame of life burned high -in them. Their horses' ears quivered to a louder roar of the distant -guns. - -Slowly they rode home together, by an easier, more roundabout path she -showed him. - -All that day those of the regiment not required for outposts laboured -hard at the new entrenchments on the high, western edge of the -ravine--a long, long line of delving men. Ranges were marked out; -reserves of ammunition, food and water carried up. The energising -source of all this activity, the colonel, laboured also, without haste -and without rest. His brain worked quickly, coolly, definite in its -decisions. She, his companion, unobtrusively at hand when required -for information or material of defence, vanished unnoticed when her -presence might become importunate. She quenched her personality, -transfused, she felt, her life-force into him as he worked, an -emotionless intellect. With his chefs-de-bataillon he elaborated plans -of defence; nothing was left to chance; nothing could be misunderstood. -Personally he supervised, corrected, the siting of the trenches, the -emplacements of the mitrailleuses. In the afternoon he rode over to the -colonel of the adjoining regiment, concerted arrangements. From the -general de brigade he obtained the promise of a battery in support on -the morrow. - -But he was uneasy. Patrols sent out had failed to get into touch with -the covering cavalry. The distant artillery roll was nearer. There -had been one inexplicable burst of fire some miles away to the right. -As night fell he ordered the new trenches to be manned with the bulk -of his force, leaving outposts and grand'garde on the plateau above -the ravine and down the valley. One company only he retained near the -chateau. - -That evening he sat again in the salon of his hostess. All was quiet. -The dog snored in front of the hearth. At his request the countess -seated herself at the piano, played dreamily with bowed head. The soft -harmonies that awoke under her fingers seemed only to make the silence -musical. - -Suddenly a shot re-echoed loud along the valley; another and another -followed. There was a burst of rapid, irregular fire, indefinitely -prolonged. The colonel rushed to a window, flung it open, listened. The -outposts down the valley were being driven in. - -His companion had risen, stood by the piano with tense features. There -was a loud hurried knock on the door. She ran to open it. A Zouave -entered, breathing heavily from swift exertion. Saluting, he handed a -message to the colonel. It was from the commander of the grand'garde on -the edge of the ravine above. He reported that his advanced posts were -in contact with the enemy, were retiring. For one moment the colonel -stood by the window, listening to the rapid clatter of the rifles, -deciding which was the heavier attack. - -He wrote an order to the officer above. The messenger disappeared. The -countess was holding out his fez and his revolver. One wild embrace and -he sprang out of the room, dashed through the adjoining salons, out -into the night. - -In the courtyard he found the reserve company assembled, awaiting his -orders. He gave them, quickly, succinctly. The company fell into fours, -doubled out of the courtyard into the darkness to form a screen across -the valley behind which the men above could seek safety. From the -widening ravine the rifle fire swelled in intensity, was a continuous -loud re-echoing clatter. Above, sharp definite reports rang out, -were rapidly multiplied. It was the grand'garde--_feu a volonte_. -He glanced to the other wall of the ravine and smiled in a grim -satisfaction. His orders were being obeyed. The long line of trenches -he knew to be there lay in silence and darkness. - -Above him there was one fierce paroxysm of fire and then the reports -diminished, sprang from lower levels. He saw quick flashes of light -among the trees. Wounded men limped and hobbled past him in the -darkness. The outpost was retiring into the valley. A bullet cracked -close to him. He turned, suddenly conscious of companionship. The -countess was standing at his side, her pale dress luminous in the -night. The dog growled angrily in front of her. - -"Pauline!" His voice was almost a shriek of alarm for her. "Pauline! -For the love of God, come with me--now--there is yet time! I cannot -leave you!" - -She grasped his hand, as a friend would. - -"No, _cher_--I stay--as a pledge for your victorious return!" - -The last men of the outpost were running past them. Overhead the -bullets cracked viciously, phutting against the walls. - -"I implore you! There may be heavy fighting!" - -"No, mon ami. I stay." Her voice was quite decided. "I have cellars." -She pressed his hand, then, with a quick movement, flung herself into -his arms, was one with him for a brief second. He unloosed her embrace. - -"Go, then," he said, his voice trembling. "Quickly. God be with you!" - -"And with you, my beloved! Take the dog with you--he will tell me where -you are." She bent down to the animal, whispered to him, pointed to the -colonel. Heavy volleys crashed out of the trees above. She sprang back -into the house. - -The dog at his heels, the colonel raced after the last of his men. They -turned to spit livid spurts of flame at the dark wall of the ravine. In -a few moments they were clambering up a steep path through the wood on -the other side. - -Half an hour later the Germans felt the long line of trenches on the -lip of the ravine, attacked, and were heavily repulsed. - - * * * * * - -At dawn the colonel reconnoitred the situation from his position on the -height. In front of him the enemy, abandoning the valley in which lay -so many of his dead, had entrenched himself along the opposite edge of -the ravine. Vicious little bursts of rifle fire at scattered parties or -individuals who hazarded themselves for a moment out of cover betokened -the vigilance of both sides, and on both sides the many spadefuls of -earth tossed in the air showed that the work of strengthening the -positions was proceeding feverishly. So far no artillery had entered -into the fray, but at any moment the first shell from one party or the -other might come whining across the gulf. To the right of the Zouaves -another battalion had established contact, was maintaining itself. To -the left, at the head of the ravine, where they joined with the next -regiment, a fierce fight was proceeding--attack and counter-attack -which finally left the positions unchanged. Far to right and left the -crackle of rifle fire swelled and continued. Mingled with it came the -rapid detonations of field-guns, their reports ever nearer. The battle -was developing all along the line. The colonel received positive orders -to maintain himself at all costs, to risk nothing. Upon the maintenance -of this thin screen depended the safety of two armies, forming and in -motion, perhaps the fate of France. - -Through his glasses the colonel gazed into the depths of the ravine, -where the white stone chateau glinted through the dark, thickly -surrounding trees. A wisp of smoke ascended from one of the chimneys -and he had to be content with that assurance that all was well. A -patrol sent out in the first light had failed to reach it. All access -to the chateau was commanded by spurs from the other side of the -ravine. But apparently it was unoccupied by the enemy. He thought -suddenly of the dog, wondered what had happened to it. In the stress -of the night attack he had lost sight of it, forgotten it. Even as he -searched his memory it came bounding along the trench towards him, -nosed against his leg. There was something fastened to its collar, a -letter. - -As he read it, all the passion of his ascetic, sun-parched years, -awakened by the exquisite charm of that slender pale woman lonely -there below him, surged up in him, overmastering, obliterating all -else. The eloquent eyes under the auburn hair were vivid to him, spoke -to his deepest soul. Her letter was a prose lyric of passion wherein -all emotions--longing, tenderness, anxiety, surrender, pride in her -lover, even a flash of the doubt born of swiftly-given love--contended. -It was revelatory of her inmost self as her speech had never been. -She, it seemed, had also waited--waited. Some of the phrases in -it--"The burning sacrament of your kiss"--"linked in an instant for -eternity"--branded themselves upon his brain. In a whirl of cerebral -excitement he tore out a page from his note-book, dashed off a letter -not less ardent, not less than hers the ecstasy of a soul that lives at -last in the consuming fire of love. - -He attached it to the dog's collar, pointed away. The animal sprang -over the low parapet, disappeared in the undergrowth below. - -An artillery officer came up, reported himself as the observer of the -newly arrived battery. He evinced much professional interest in the -chateau, seemed eager to make it the target for his guns. The colonel -explained the situation. - -All through the multitudinous tasks and responsibilities of the day his -soul yearned out to the lonely woman below. To have risked his life in -an endeavour to see her would have been more than a joy, it would have -been the satisfaction of a need of his being--but his life was pledged -to France. To him his duty was a religion with which his love did not -conflict, nay both, upon the summit of his life, blended and were one. -Yet tempted, he found himself speculating upon the possibility of -creeping down at nightfall. - -But night saw the intense glare of three German searchlights shoot out -of the darkness. A storm of shrapnel burst fiercely over the trenches -of the Zouaves. A wild attack of shadowy forms surging up out of the -undergrowth beat against the parapet, ebbed back in an inferno of -noise from the long line of countless stabs of flame, was hurled into -the ravine under the reiterated crashes, the sudden livid flares of -shrapnel from the battery behind. - -Down below, at the highest window of the chateau, the countess stood -looking out into the night, her lover's letter pressed close against -her bosom. High above her flickered and spurted the endless rifle -flashes from _his_ trenches, paling the stars above the dark hill. The -noise of the conflict, the shouts and cries amid the re-echoing din, -was a tribute to his power. She gloried in it, exulted when the attack -subsided, withdrew in a clamour of voices past the chateau to the hill -behind. - -Descending, she wrote yet another letter to him--a proud paean of love -triumphant. Then suddenly she flung herself, face downward, arms -outstretched, across the table in a passion of irrepressible tears. -She lay thus a long time, until the heaving of her body ceased and she -slept, her cheek upon the letter. - -The morning was yet young when she despatched the dog once more upon -his mission to her lover. Save for an occasional shot, the opposing -trenches were quiet. Stretcher parties were at work in the valley. -Waited upon by the ancient Marie--eloquent in her protestations of -terror during the night--she breakfasted, counting the minutes until -the return of her messenger. Roland arrived, pleased with himself, -as his energetic tail testified. Once more with swelling breast and -radiant face she read her lover's letter, passionate as the first. In a -postscript, it begged her to give no information that might imperil her. - -During the day the battle woke again between the trenches at the head -of the ravine, continued in fierce spasms hour after hour. In the -afternoon she wrote another letter, despatched it and received an -answer. She was strangely, exaltedly happy. _He_ was holding firm. -No one came to the chateau. At night she again posted herself at the -window to watch the flashes from his trenches. - -The third day dawned. She wrote, assuring him of her safety--of much -else. The reply duly arrived. A false peace brooded over the little -valley. Ceding to an impulse, she went out, tried to get a clearer view -of his position, to see--she would not admit to herself her absurd -hope. Then, regretting her imprudence, she returned hurriedly. - -The grey of afternoon already filled the valley when a loud, imperative -knocking upon the great door re-echoed through the house. The countess -stood as if turned to stone; her heart seemed to stop. So soon! The -threat to her exalted, impassioned life of the past days paralysed her. -She could with difficulty cry to Marie to admit. - -A German officer entered, a group of soldiers behind him. He saluted -with stiff ceremony. - -"Madame, I regret you must leave this house at once!" His French was -painfully correct. - -She faced him, tense. - -"And if I refuse?" - -"Then, madame, you leave me no alternative but to arrest you as a -suspect." - -She cried an inarticulate protest. The dog, hitherto standing by her -side as though straining at a leash, sprang forward with an angry growl. - -The German regarded the menace coolly, without moving a muscle. - -"Schoenes Tier!" he murmured. Then, turning to his men, he ordered: -"Secure it, one of you!" - -Thunderously growling, with a puzzled look at his mistress standing -like a statue, the dog suffered a cord to be slipped through its -collar. The blood surged into the countess's face. - -"Monsieur----!" The sense of outrage choked her. - -"Madame," he interrupted calmly, "I need scarcely remind you that time -presses. You will not, I am sure, constrain us to violence." - -She met his eyes, was confronted with inexorable necessity. Her hands -twitched. - -"You will at least allow me a little time to collect a few clothes and -valuables?" - -"A little time, madame." - -She ran from the room, hearing as a last sound the dog choking as it -struggled on the leash. In the hall was Marie, haggard, her old body -shaking with excitement. She clutched at her mistress's arm. - -"Madame! what is happening?" She lapsed into patois under the stress. - -The countess replied also, without noticing it, in the language of her -childhood. - -"I am arrested. They are letting me fetch some clothes." - -The servant suppressed a cry. "Madame!" The old hands trembled upon -her. "The colonel!--a note to him--he will come--give it to me!" - -"But Marie----" They looked deep down into each other's soul. With a -sudden movement of decision the countess ran into an adjoining room, -scribbled "_They are taking me. P._" on a piece of paper, thrust it -into the old woman's hand. "You are sure, Marie?" she asked wildly, -seeking condonation for herself. - -"Chere dame!" was the brief, eloquent reply. The old woman disappeared. - -The countess ran upstairs to her bedroom, the one word -"Delay!--delay!--delay!--delay!" beating in her brain. - -Down in the salon the officer gave a few curt commands to his men, -ordered the dog to be taken into the yard. Left alone, he strolled -round the room examining the pictures, the bibelots, opening the -drawers of the secretaire. The minutes passed. The house was in deep -silence. He began to get impatient, to wonder if some trick----. But he -was sure of the vigilance of his men. A quarter of an hour had elapsed -when he heard a sharp little burst of fire from the German trenches -above. It was not answered. The valley resumed its unwonted quiet. -Exasperated at the delay he began to pace up and down the room, looked -at his watch, gave his prisoner yet another five minutes. - -Suddenly his eye was caught by a little piece of folded paper on the -floor under the piano. He picked it up, opened it. It was a letter that -had evidently fallen from the countess's dress when she ran from the -room. He read it through, a gleam in his eyes. "So! meine Graefin!" he -murmured, and smiled. - -The colonel's passionate outpouring awoke no sympathetic thrill of -romance in his breast. The tip of a pink tongue protruding under -his fair moustache, his clever blue eyes alight, he turned it over, -pondering the signature. From many indications he deduced that the -writer was in the trenches on the other side of the ravine, was of -commanding rank. Even as he considered it there was a knock at the door. - -"Herein!" A German soldier entered and saluted. He brought a message -from the trenches above. It explained the little burst of fire, warned -him. The officer stood for a moment in thought, then his face lit up -with a malicious pleasure. The clever blue eyes saw a sequence of -events--the messenger from the countess, whose sudden scramble over the -opposing parapet had drawn the German fire, imploring rescue of the -distressed; a French commander, intoxicated with love for a beautiful -woman, catching fire at the news, issuing wild orders, seeing only his -mistress in imminent danger; a reckless avalanche of French soldiery -sweeping down the sides of the ravine in a blind quixotic chivalry. He -saw----"Famos!" he ejaculated, and laughed softly to himself. He wrote -out an answering message, a long one, and handed it to the orderly. - -When the countess returned to the room, garbed for departure, she found -him seated at the piano, playing gently with a sentimental touch. He -rose at her entrance, performed a polite bow. - -"Madame, you appear to have a very interesting house," he said in his -stiff French; "would you do me the honour of escorting me over it?" - -The countess stared at him, dumbfounded. Were her prayers miraculously -answered? Delay!--delay!--delay! - -"If you wish, monsieur," she answered in a calm, controlled voice. -Following the twin thought in her brain, her eyes searched the carpet. - -He noticed the glance, drew the letter from his pocket. - -"I think you dropped this, madame," he said, handing it to her. - -She took it from him. Had he read it? The blonde face that met her -questioning gaze was impassive under its smiling courtesy. - -For an instant they confronted each other. With a cynical sense of -superiority, pleasant to himself, he read her delight at his unexpected -request, carefully though she tried to disguise it, read her quickly -banished doubt that he had penetrated her scheme, was counter-plotting. -He could almost phrase her thankful prayer to God--begging for a -continuance of the miracle--that the barbarian had thus delivered -himself into the strong hands of her lover. He would surely come! Both -as they stood thus silent were calculating the necessary minutes--but -his calculation was a double one. With the politest of bows, he opened -the door for her. - -Together they went through salon after salon, candlelit since he -refused to have the shutters opened. In contrast with his previous -manner, he displayed not the least haste. Leisurely he lingered over -each piece, discussed it, appraised it with real connoisseurship -as though he were merely a cultured guest. She loitered willingly, -her brain on fire, every sense at strain. The precious moments were -accumulating. She found new treasures for his admiration, racked her -memory for rare objects that might hold him yet a little longer. He -handled them, was enthusiastic, with calm audacity regretted this -terrible war which imperilled so many beautiful things. Not once did -he depart from his attitude of studied politeness. And while he spoke -she was listening--listening--for the sudden shout, the quick close -detonations, which should announce her deliverance. - -At any moment now! She glanced for the barbarian's weapon, her heart -praying for _his_ safety. Out there beyond the shuttered windows he was -coming in might at the head of his men. She seemed to see him--running -towards her, past the Cupid-crowned fountain. She exulted in the crass -absence of suspicion in the hatefully calm enemy at her side. - -Out there in the twilight the precincts of the chateau were being -lined with grey-clad soldiers, settling themselves in hidden firing -positions. The officer saw them, with experienced second-sight. He -smiled, blandly. His prisoner loitered, desperately prolonging his -happy preoccupation. - -When they returned to the salon it was to find another German officer -waiting. Unseen by her, they exchanged a significant look. - -There was a sharp, hissing, ugly rush in the air and a loud crash in -the courtyard. - - * * * * * - -By a fortunate chance the colonel was near when the panting Marie -scrambled over the parapet to the accompaniment of a dozen rifle -bullets. On the point of collapse, the old woman sank into his arms, -stammered confused unintelligible words, gave him the scrap of paper. -Consigning her to the care of an orderly, he read the message, then -raised his head, his fingers crushing the paper. He stood motionless, -in intense thought. Slowly his eyes turned, fell upon the old woman -shaking more with fright from the narrowly escaped bullets than from -her exertions. Then his gaze lifted, fixed itself with frowning -concentration upon the clay wall of the trench. He saw only with an -inner vision. Around him no one spoke. His jaw set hard. - -He raised himself upon the fire-step, gazed over the parapet through -his glasses. The opposing lip of the ravine, bare of undergrowth -a few yards from the top, lay silent, seemingly deserted. He -called up an officer, handed him his glasses, indicated a point, -ordered an unceasing watch upon it. Then he sent orderlies for his -chefs-de-bataillon and the artillery observation officer in all haste. - -They came. The battalion commanders received definite instructions and -departed. The artillery officer remained with him. The ancient Marie -sat upon the fire-step of the trench, trembling but recovering. She -watched the saviour of her mistress with fascinated eyes. - -The trench began to fill with soldiers. They crouched in their firing -positions, their heads kept carefully below the parapet. Here and -there little groups were busy about the machine-guns, fitted the long -comb-like strips of cartridges, huddled ready to hoist the weapon into -action. The watching officer called, without moving his head. - -"Infantry are slipping into the ravine, mon colonel!" - -The colonel, stern, impassive, ordered him to report when the movement -ceased. - -The long trench filled with crouching riflemen lay in a hush of intense -expectancy. There was scarce a movement save the quick, involuntary -jerks of nerves at strain. The old woman's eyes began to wander, -puzzled, seeking comprehension. The wild rush forward she had imagined, -would it never come? She waited, breathless, for the inspiring command -of the colonel that should wake the tumultuous Hurrah! The watching -officer reported: - -"Movement has ceased, mon colonel. About two hundred men." - -The colonel drew his watch from his pocket, glanced at the dial. Beyond -that he made no movement. The old woman's eyes were fixed upon him. -Suddenly she noticed that he wore neither sword nor revolver. In a -flash she understood. She sprang up like a madwoman, crying at the top -of her voice. - -"Soldiers! To the rescue! The Boches are taking away my mistress! -Now! Save her! Your colonel--her lover--abandons her! _Abandons her!_ -Cowards! Cowards! Do you want an old woman to show you the way?" - -She leaped in a frenzy upon the fire-step, tearing aside the soldiers -to make way for her with cat-like hands. There was a stir along the -trench. The soldiers knew her, knew her mistress, their generous -hostess. There was a murmur. The colonel stood like a statue carved in -stone. His face was that of an ascetic at the supreme moment. In his -eyes was the glow of a mystic who beholds a vision. - -He turned to the old woman. - -"Be quiet!" he commanded. His eyes rather than his voice quelled her. -She sank in a passion of hysterical weeping to the floor of the trench. -He glanced at his watch again, replaced it, waited. Age-long minutes -passed. He turned to the artillery officer. - -"Now!" he said. "But be careful! As near to the chateau as possible -without touching it." - -The officer shouted an order to the waiting telephonist. Overhead there -was the rush of a shell, from far behind the sharp crack of a gun. -Leisurely--one--two--three--four--the battery fired. The observation -officer looked over the parapet. The colonel mounted by his side, -watched also. - -One--two--three--four--the battery fired again, repeated itself once -more. Down there among the trees was a faint drifting smoke. - -The colonel counted the minutes as the well-placed shells dropped -around the chateau of his dreams. He saw, where none other saw, the -sudden alarm below; the prisoner hurriedly evacuated from her home, -dragged scrambling up through the dark trees into safety on the other -side. One--two--three--four. She should be out of harm's way. - -He turned his face to the trench, shouted an order. As he turned his -gaze again swiftly towards the enemy he had a glimpse of something -upon the bare lip of the ravine--something white, quickly moving. He -had miscalculated! In a sudden agony, he shrieked rather than shouted -a countermanding order. Too late! His voice was drowned in one long -smashing detonation of a thousand rifles in an irregular volley -from the trench. From the battery behind came the rapid, multiplied -hammer-slams of the guns firing at their maximum speed. - -He had a ghostly vision of an anguished woman's face, denying love. - -The ravine was lashed by a tornado of shell and bullets. Caught in its -depths, unseen yet precisely imagined from above, men were clambering -in an agony of desperation to escape from the death that crashed -unceasingly overhead and hailed about them. The white shrapnel puffs -were countless against the dark background of the trees. - -For a quarter of an hour the fierce fire continued, was answered in -bitter anger from the opposing trenches. Then on both sides it died -away. The dead in the valley lay in quiet. - -The colonel, his face rigid, turned to walk along the trench. Suddenly -a dog trailing a cord leaped over the parapet, dashed at him in a -frenzy of joy. Then, perceiving the old woman, it jumped at her, nosed -around her with vigorously wagging tail. - -The old woman shrieked. The colonel looked. There was blood upon the -dog's coat. The old woman drew herself up, held the colonel's eyes. -"_Murderer!_" she cried with the intensity of a curse, and fainted. - -The colonel strode on. - - * * * * * - -On a bitter day in December, three months later, the colonel returned -from his morning tour of the trenches for which he was responsible. -They were trenches in another landscape, far from those whose memory -lay like a sear across his soul. At the entrance to the sandbagged, -wrecked farmhouse which served him as a home the soldier-_courrier_ -was in the act of extracting letters from his wallet. The colonel took -the bundle destined for him. At the sight of the topmost envelope he -stopped as though he had seen a ghost. With trembling fingers he tore -it open, read: - -"My hero! _I understood! I understood!_ Oh, didn't you know I -understood? How grand you are--more than a man! All these weary months -of imprisonment, trial, release and travel, I have been hungering to -tell you this. Home once more, France is more than ever France to me -since you ennobled me in sacrifice. Beloved!----" - -The colonel hurried into his quarters to read the letter in solitude. -None might see his face. - - - - -THEY COME BACK - - -Whittingham Street, N., had benefited by the war. The long vista of its -windows flush with the pavement was decent with curtains of a cleanness -unwonted before the cataclysm. There were strange dots of reflected -sunlight from brass door-handles and knockers that were polished. These -things were symbols of the newly realised importance of Whittingham -Street's inhabitants in the scheme of society, an importance which, -swiftly translated into self-esteem, expressed itself with a uniformity -natural to life in a mean street. That house was poor indeed which did -not possess its gramophone. The womenfolk were curiously predominant to -those who remembered the old-time loungers at the corner "pubs," and -that womenfolk, disdainful of the feathers of the long ago, was arrayed -in startlingly smart, well-emphasized, cheap copies of the latest -fashions, oddly incongruous with the tall, smoke-vomiting chimneys of -Messrs. Hathaway's great factory which closed the vista of the street. -The sparseness of the men, immediately remarked, received a solemn -significance from the flag-hung shrine on the wall of the Council -School. The children who played in front of it--paper helmet, tin-can -drum and wooden sword--were vividly cognizant that this was a time of -War. - -It was evening, and from the great gates of Messrs. Hathaway's factory -poured a ceaseless stream of women. But not this evening did that -stream flow down the street with its usual swift and uninterrupted -course. There were checks in it--obstacles of groups that talked -excitedly and forgot to progress--while others in eager haste eddied -round them. On the high wall by the gate, a bill-poster was covering a -"War Savings" placard with another of different meaning. A black cloud -of smoke drifted away from the tall chimneys and was not reinforced -other than by faint and lessening wisps. - -A young woman, one of those whose urgent haste trifled not with -talk, hurried down the street, stopped before one of the neatest -house-fronts, tremblingly thrust a key into the latch, opened and ran -breathlessly upstairs. - -A grey-haired old woman rose from a wooden chair by the side of a -cradle in a clean and modestly furnished room. At the entrance of her -daughter-in-law she laid a finger on her lips and looked warningly to -the infant. Then remarking an obvious distress, she changed colour. - -"What's the matter, Ann?" she whispered, shaking with a sudden alarm. -She had to steady herself by the support of the table. "Not--Jim?" - -The young woman shook her head, controlled her panting breath. - -"Hathaway's!" she brought out. "Closing down!" - -The elder stared speechlessly for a moment, then seated herself with -that blank mute resignation of the aged poor, long disillusioned of -any title to good fortune. The fingers of her unshapely hands twined -and untwined themselves tensely in her lap. - -"Don't you hear, mother?" said the young woman irritably. "Hathaway's -are closing down!" - -"Oh, dear!" the old woman raised a face that was strained with imminent -tears. "I knew it 'ud never last--I knew it 'ud never last!" - -"What we shall do, 'Eaven knows!" said Ann, viciously accenting the -sole possible fount of knowledge. "They're all closing down--all of -'em, all round!" Her gesture, as she unpinned her hat and put it, with -an excess of energy, on the table, testified to the completeness of -the closed horizon. She stood looking at the sleeping child, her brows -bent, her mouth troubled. Then suddenly she flung herself on her knees -and buried her head in the old woman's lap, shaking with sobs. - -"Oh, I did so want to keep it nice for Jim when 'e comes back! I did! I -did! All we've got together. And now it'll all go--bit by bit! And I've -worked so 'ard--so very 'ard! An' 'e'll never see, never know 'ow nice -it was! Oh--mother!" She could utter no more words, only inarticulate -sounds. - -The old woman soothed her, stroking her hair. - -"There, dear! there, dear! Don't take on! It'll all come right. I can -go out again an' do a bit of cleanin'. I daresay Mrs. Smith'll take me -on again. I ain't done no work for a long while--sitting 'ere eatin' -your bread--I've 'ad a nice rest, I 'ave--I'm quite strong again now. -We'll both get somethin', you see, dear!" - -The young woman raised herself. - -"No!--No!--No!--You shan't work any more!" She turned her head wearily. -"I can't make it out. _What's happening?_ Why are they all shutting -down like this?" - -The old woman looked at her stupidly. The remote causes which made or -unmade her unimportant existence were beyond her comprehension. - -"What's that?" cried Ann, jumping to her feet. "_What's 'e calling?_" - -The raucous shout of a newsvendor floated up from the street. Ann -listened for a moment--and then, after a hurried search for a halfpenny -in her purse, dashed out of the door and down the stairs. - -She reappeared after a bare minute, brandishing the newspaper, -wild-eyed, panting. - -"Mother! Mother!" She could not wait to enter the door before -commencing her news. "It's Peace! _Peace!_" She struggled with the -unfolded paper, crushed it together again, searching eagerly for the -magic headlines. "Here it is! Listen!" The old woman, equally all -trembling eagerness, was standing at her side, pawing vaguely at the -arm which held the newspaper. Ann read out the great news. "'_The wild -rumours current during the past few days have received a startling -confirmation. It is announced that an armistice has been signed on all -the fronts. This undoubtedly means a general Peace. The end of the -war has come._' Mother! it's all over! it's all over--and Jim'll be -coming back! Oh, I can't 'ardly believe it! _It's all over!_ Oh, thank -God--thank God!" - -"All over! My Jim! Safe and sound! Oh," the old woman commenced that -sniffling weep common to the aged and the young. "I can't 'elp it, -Ann--I can't 'elp it!--I must cry!" - -Ann dashed down the newspaper and flung her arms round the old woman -in a close embrace. "Mother! Mother! I never was so"--and here a sob -checked her speech also--"so 'appy in my life!" Face against face, -the tears of the two women mingled--tears not of grief but of emotion -for which there was no expression. Somewhere down the street church -bells were ringing in joyous peal on peal. It might have been merely a -coincidence of practice, but to the two women whose simple souls beat -close together, in a swoon of intense feeling that obliterated the -sharp outlines of environment, this happy rioting of the bells seemed a -holy blessing on the moment. - -"Oh, Ann dear, Ann dear," said the old woman, looking up. "What a -thanksgiving it'll be for all the poor anxious women!" - -"Oh, we're very lucky--we're very lucky. Jim'll be coming back. Think -of it, mother!" - -They kissed one another as if each were kissing the man who would come -back as son and husband. - -"We've got to keep it for 'im," said Ann. "All the little 'ome. An' -'e'll soon be back to work for us an' the baby, an' we shan't never be -parted any more! Oh, mother, think of the poor women who won't 'ave -no one to come back to 'em! When they see 'em marching by! Oh--we're -lucky, we're very lucky!" - -The old woman stood staring out of the window in vague thought, her -eye caught by the vivid red of the flags on the War Shrine. - -"It'll be a different world, Ann, when they all come back," she said. -"Them what 'ave been left be'ind all through will find lots missing -what they look for. And them what come back won't come back the same. -It'll never be the same again, any of it; let's 'ope it'll be better." - - * * * * * - -_They_ were coming back. The Mother-City of the Empire woke, silent of -traffic, decked for a day that knew no sufficient parallel, the day -when the thousands of her sons--those who had gone in their ones and -twos, their single battalions--should march back from vast adventure in -the full majesty of their corporate soldier-life. The London Divisions -were coming back from the War, were marching for the last time at full -strength. And the London streets were tunnels of gay flags, walled with -black masses of citizens kept clear from the sanded roadways. From -every steeple the bells tossed out their exuberant rejoicing. In every -breast of the millions there congregated was a surge of emotion that -exhaled in one sustained murmur of the gladness for which there are no -words but which fills the eyes and chokes the throat. - -They were coming! The thrilling blare of instruments of brass; the -heart-stirring tap and roll and beat of the drums; the intoxicating -rhythmic swinging lilt and crash; the brave gay runs of melody, -sublimely simple, that bring the tears; the solid, even tramp of -thousands who march as one--and the leading files were passing in a -storm of cheers, a madness of waving hands. For the last time they -passed shoulder to shoulder in the familiar ranks, marching as they -had marched for all the years of exile, marching as they had marched -down the fatal roads to Loos and Gommecourt, Guillemont and all those -rubble heaps where the bravest and the dearest of the greatest city of -the world died for the fragment of a village and for England. Rifles -at the slope, bare bayonets asserting the ancient privileges that they -had won, O so dearly, the right to flaunt, the heavy weather-stained -pack on the sturdy shoulders, the steel helmets awry with the tilt -of long-familiar use, the brown strong faces gleaming with their -smiles--so they marched, not any more under the thunder of the guns, -but in a frenzy of voices where the madly rioting bells were lost. - -Battalion by battalion--all the glorious names, London's own--the -London Scottish, first in the fray in the long ago, the Queen's -Westminsters, the Kensingtons, the London Rifle Brigade, the H.A.C., -the numberless battalions of the London Regiment--they came, each -with its aura of the deathless dead. They came from the interminable -purgatory of the endless trenches, terminated at last, from the -unimaginable inferno of Hill 60, from the hopeless dying of May the -Ninth, from the fierce hopes, the bitter strife of Loos, from the -massacre of Gommecourt and the bloody fights of Guillemont, of Vimy -Ridge, of Messines, of a thousand places that were humble and are -henceforth names of splendour. Miraculously strong, happy, pregnant -with vivid life they emerged from that distant whelm of peril. And -the eyes that had looked so long at death in the bare fields pocked -hideously with the disease of war, looked up now at the ranked tall -buildings, so familiar and yet so strange, so impressively permanent -after timeless aeons of destruction. Behind those windows--could it -be?--they had sat at desk through months and years. Between them and -that past was a curtain of fire, of emotions that had transformed, of -the intensity of life which has persisted in the face of death. And -rank by rank, battalion after battalion, swinging with powerful stride, -they marched back into the past that had seemed for ever gone. - -And those who watched the level ranks flowing in their endless stream, -cheering with throats now incapable of aught but the inarticulate cry, -perceiving them mistily through a blur of tears, saw more than the men -who marched, treading once again the asphalt of the London streets. -They saw the ghosts of ranks, doubling--more than doubling--the ranks -of living men, the ghosts of those who had looked as these looked, -brown-faced, strong-limbed, the incarnation of living will, and were -now no more than the wind blowing over the desolate countrysides where -they had ceased to be. Yet were they present, the men who had died -that England might live. The stir of their souls was in the skirling -pipes, the wail and feverish beat of the fifes and drums, the maddening -purposeful blare and thud of the brass bands. They looked out of the -eyes of those who marched--the soul unconquerable, the living spirit -of the English race. And a divine afflatus swept over the waving, -cheering crowds, swept them to a wilder intoxication. One, whose -faculty of speech was not yet overwhelmed, cried: "Three cheers for the -boys who are left behind! Hurrah! Hurrah!----" and could not finish. -And a woman who stood, tensely pallid, staring at the so-familiar -badges of the troops who passed, stared at utter strangeness, and fell -as dead. - -The next battalion followed on, singing, carrying on a tune caught up -far back along the route, the farewell song of Kitchener's Army of -1915, sung now as an instinctive antistrophe to that old chorale when -they had marched to war: - - "Keep the home fires burning, - While your hearts are yearning, - Though your lads are far away, they dream of home, - There's a silver lining - Through the dark cloud shining, - Turn your dark clouds inside out - Till the boys come home." - -They passed in a roar of voices that drowned the band. - -So the long, long columns of the London Divisions tramped through the -heart of the Mother-City, under the fluttering of countless flags, -under the surge and resurge of joy-bells from every steeple, under -great banners that proclaimed the gratitude of the city. Rank after -rank they lifted their eyes to the laurel-green inscription that -spanned the street at Temple Bar: "SHALL WE FORGET?--NEVER!" - -Rank by rank they passed under the promise--the thousands of men welded -in the fires of war to a wondrous miracle of collective soul--passed -onward for the last time as one living unit, ere they should lay down -their arms, _fall out_--and disperse, individuals that were fragments -of a sacred memory, the shreds of a battle-flag distributed. - - * * * * * - -Sir Thomas Jackson Hathaway, Kt., Alderman of the City of London, -looked along the masculine faces, spaced with the interstices of the -departed ladies, of the little dinner-party of intimate friends, and -then again to the brown keen visage of his son. He pushed along the -decanter--he was old-fashioned and made a virtue of it--"Fill up, -Harry, my boy--I've been looking after the cellar while you've been -away--there's more of it." He laughed a little at the mirth of his -implied suggestion that there might possibly be a shortage in the -cellars of Sir Thomas Hathaway. And his guests laughed a little in -courtesy. - -"We've kept the flag flying here also, my boy," said the big, heavily -jovial host, puffing hugely at his cigar and then taking it from his -mouth to examine it with a superfluously critical eye. "You'll find -things as well--better, than when you left. You don't mind, gentlemen, -this little talk of shop? After all, we're all friends together, and -most of us have some small interest in the little business, ha! ha!" -The guests were, in fact, Sir Thomas Hathaway's co-directors in the -large enterprises he controlled. He continued: "Better I may say, for -we have been very conservative--we've looked to the younger generation -away fighting our battles for us--and we've built up a reserve fund -that a few years ago we shouldn't have dreamed of. You've come back -to a first-class concern, Harry, my boy. Here's to it!" He raised and -drained his glass, setting a followed example to his guests. - -Captain Hathaway had been toying with a match on the tablecloth. He -looked up--quiet and thoughtful, his face clean-cut and aristocratic by -contrast with the heavy opulence of his sire. - -"You don't anticipate Labour trouble, then, father?" - -Sir Thomas Hathaway laughed, a guffaw, and crashed his hand on the -table. - -"Labour troubles, my boy! You need have no fear on that score. We're -going to teach Labour a lesson. We haven't built up our reserve for -nothing.--not only ourselves, but all the houses in the trade. For long -enough we've been dictated to by Labour--and now, by God, we're going -to crush it! Do you know what's coming, my boy? Have you thought about -it? There's going to be the biggest flood of Labour chucked on the -market that the world has ever known. All of 'em fightin'--_fightin'_ -for jobs! And the trade, Harry, my boy, is going to _lock out_! We're -closed down now, and we shan't open again till our own good time. How -long d'you think the Union funds'll last? _We'll bust 'em_--bust 'em -for ever and a day. And when we open our shops again to Labour--it'll -be on our own terms! Here, fill up, gentlemen, I can vouch for this -wine--cost me a sinful price it did. We'll bust 'em, my lad, so that -never again in our time shall we hear a word of Labour trouble." He -gulped the glassful of his sinfully costly wine. - -Captain Hathaway glanced round the table at the somewhat flushed, -semi-senile features of his father's guests and partners. They were one -and all nodding their heads in varying emphasis of approbation. He got -up. - -"Well, father, I don't think we'll discuss it now. Suppose we join the -ladies?" - -In the high drawing-room, softly lit with diffused radiance from the -ceiling, draped with precious modern hangings that were genuine and -spaced out with expensive antique paintings that were not, furnished -with the luxury of a wealth too utterly complete in its overwhelming -newness to allow imagination its leap across an artistic restraint, -the ladies purred, or cooed in careful falsetto, as they awaited the -entrance of the males. At a grand piano, slightly removed, a young -woman with a delicately refined face played softly to herself--in -a quiet ecstasy of gladness for which this was the only satisfying -expression. - -Captain Hathaway, entering with his father's guests, came straight -across to her, and she looked up, smiling, into her husband's face -as though he had come in response to a murmured summoning spell. She -ceased and leaned back her head against him as he stood close behind -her. - -"Oh, Harry," she said, "it's so lovely to have you again--for always, -always!" Her eyes half closed and her bosom heaved as she drank in an -intoxicating realization of his definite return, sketched to herself a -delicious little swoon. - -"My dear!" he murmured. "It's good! Home--home for always with my -beloved!" - -She clutched at his hand, and for a moment, while the loud-voiced -crowd vanished, they were secret lovers, snatched up to dizzy heights, -intensely thrilling with an exquisite community, eyes looking into -eyes and seeing more than human brain can translate of transcendent -vision. She released him and bowed forward suddenly with a little gulp, -striking, with trembling hands, vague chords on the piano. - -"Now, Ethel, my dear," came the crass boom of her father-in-law's -voice, "when you've finished your spooning, let's have something jolly. -What about that bit out of 'Not a Word to the Wife!' Tra-la-la-la-la!" -He sketched a hideous caricature of blatant banality. "We're all jolly -to-night--none of your mooning sentiment, but jolly. Eh, ladies and -gentlemen?--properly jolly for Harry's first night back." - -Ethel got up from the piano, coupling an allegation of another's -superior capacity with an invitation to perform, an invitation -smirkingly accepted. - -The slangy crash and bang alternating with hyper-emphasized -sentimentality of the current tune was a cover under which Ethel -Hathaway retreated to happy intimacy with her husband. Not for long was -she allowed it. The very-consciously best-looking of the co-directors' -wives sidled up and subsided into the adjacent chair. She yearned -up into Captain Hathaway's face, while she cooed deprecation of her -intrusion to his wife. - -"But I do so want to hear how Captain Hathaway earned his Military -Cross! Of course, I read all about it in the papers--but then--they're -so bald, aren't they? One misses, what shall I say?--the human touch of -heroism." - -Mrs. Hathaway caught her husband's eye and forbade the instant flight. - -"Tell Mrs. Jameson all about it, Harry," she commanded coolly. There -was something in the tone which rendered Mrs. Jameson's extorted -confidence quite worthless. - -"There's little to tell," said Captain Hathaway. "The fellow who -really earned anything there was to get--and, I'm glad to say, got the -D.C.M.--was one of my men, a chap named Jim Swain. He used to be in our -employment, Ethel, by the way. It was a pretty tight corner and I got -practically left alone--all the other fellows knocked out--and this -chap Swain came up with a bag of bombs--jolly plucky thing, for there -didn't seem a dog's chance--and we chucked the bombs at the Hun till he -didn't dare raise his head. After a bit, some of another company came -up and we consolidated that bit of trench. That's all there was to it." - -"Oh, how splendid!" Mrs. Jameson enthused vaguely. "Leadership _is_ -everything, isn't it?" - -"When you've got something to lead, Mrs. Jameson. One couldn't have -better stuff than my men--they're magnificent. They're the nation--and -now they're coming back they've got to be treated like the men they -are and not like soulless machinery." He wound up on a note of fierce -protest against something not obvious to his hearers. - -"Now, Harry," said his wife, "don't inflict your theories on Mrs. -Jameson. We both of us positively refuse to be sympathetic with the -working class, don't we, Mrs. Jameson?" She laughed lightly. "The -working class is just as selfish as any other." - -A wave of collective chatter from an approaching group engulfed this -conversation. - -Late that night Sir Thomas Hathaway sat alone with his son. - -"Now, Harry, my lad," he said. "You're going to take Ethel away for a -three months' holiday. You've jolly well earned it, both of you. And, -when you come back, you'll be head of Hathaway and Company. I've done -my bit and I'm going to rest. My interest in the business is now being -transferred into your name. That's my little present to you, my boy, by -way of showing that I'm proud of you. And I know that you'll keep up -the fine old traditions of the house, eh?" - - * * * * * - -The curtains had disappeared from the windows of Whittingham Street. -The brass of the doors had lost its polish. The women who had tripped -along in an earnest display of finery were replaced by blowsy unkempt -females who stood at the doors and gossiped. Once more the corners -emphasized by the sordid public-houses were the idling-ground of groups -of men, more numerous, shabbier even than of old. But these men had -not the shiftless look of their predecessors. In their faces, thin -and white, was a hardness which was odd in an urban population. In -the eyes which followed the progress of a stranger up the street was -a dangerous glare. The flags of the War Shrine had disappeared; its -gilt-inscribed panel was dingy and splashed with mud. At the far end of -the street the great chimneys of Hathaway's works stuck up, clean of -smoke, into a clear sky. The massive entrance gates were a closed wall -across the vista. - -In the little room to which Jim Swain had returned--after the days -unnumbered of life in the open trenches, wet dykes in the winter, and -in summer dusty sunken avenues where death struck suddenly in the -glare; after the countless nights of clear stars rising to a wondrous -infinity of multitude and distance above the dark bank of parapet--Ann -bent over a soap-box cradle where a child whimpered in faint misery. -The room was utterly bare of any furniture save the poor substitutes -of a number of packing-cases of various sizes. The little home which -Jim had established, which Ann had worked so passionately to improve, -was a home no longer. It was merely a squalid shelter for squalid human -animals. - -Ann, on her knees by the child, looked up to the three figures in the -centre of the room, her attention suddenly challenged by the clash of -angry voices. - -A tall man, fierce, with a shock of untidy hair falling on a narrow -brow, a vivid red tie overwhelming the soft collar which kept it in -place, was pointing a quivering finger at her husband's breast. - -"You call yourself the leader of these men," he was saying, in a rage -of scorn, "and you flaunt that scrap of coloured rag--you advertise -your pride that you helped the bourgeois to fight his war! Take it -off, man--fling it down and trample on it! The red on it is the blood -of your fellow-workers!" - -"Aye, that's just what it is, Laurence," said the ex-soldier with -equal anger. "And I _am_ proud of it. I'm proud that I did my bit for -England--for England's ours, too, as well as the capitalists', and the -war was our war, the war of the crowd of us--and we went out and risked -our lives while you and your cowardly kind stayed at home and helped -the enemy all you could. That's your patriotism! And now to hear you -talk one would think England was an enemy country! I tell you it's our -country as much as anybody's and our war that we fought for it! The red -on this medal ribbon is the red of the blood of the chaps that died for -it if you like--and I'm mighty proud to wear it. And, by God, Laurence, -while I'm the leader of these poor chaps I won't have any traitor -talk--is that clear?" - -"Your country!" the other laughed bitterly. "What right have you got to -a ha'porth of it?--you, who are being chucked out into the street--you, -who haven't even the right to demand work and earn your bread! Bah! -Militarism has rotted the soul of you!" - -"It taught me to know a true man when I see him, anyway, Laurence--and -you're none o' that kind! You, poisoning the minds of starving men----" - -"And who keeps 'em starving? Who prevents 'em from helping themselves -in the nearest baker's shop----" - -"Now, lads--now, lads!" intervened the third man, a thick-set fellow -in black coat and turned-up trousers over yellow boots. A smug -self-confidence was native to his podgy countenance, was the complement -of the cunning, scheming eyes. "There's no use quarrelling. What we've -got to do is to 'elp each other--we working-men. The Union's _bust_, -Jim, an' that's the fact of it--an' if Mr. Laurence's organization 'ere -can't give us a 'and--well, I don't know what'll happen. This last -trick of 'Athaway's, chucking the whole street out o' doors, fairly -puts the lid on it!" - -There was silence in the room and Jim glanced round at the haggard -visage of his wife, bending, with tears on her cheeks, over the -whimpering child. - -"Yes, look!" said the tall man. "That's what you fought for, my lad!" - -Jim did not reply. He pressed his hand to his brow as though his brain -reeled. The Trade Union leader tried to profit by his silence. - -"We're properly up against it--there's no dodging it. Mind you, Jim, I -think there's a lot of reason in what Mr. Laurence says." - -Ann stood up quickly and faced her husband. - -"Jim!" she said, and her voice was firm though her chest heaved with -weakness. "You'll do what's right--whatever 'appens!" - -Laurence spoke again. - -"We're perfectly ready to help--but this is the last time of offering. -You know the terms. You're responsible for a good many hundreds of -starving families, Swain--they mayn't listen to you much longer, don't -forget----" - -He was interrupted by fierce shouts in the street below, the reiterated -blasts of a motor-horn, the crash of broken glass, a whir of machinery -and yet fiercer shouts. All three rushed to the window. Below them a -motor-car was stationary in the midst of a surging mob. The chauffeur -lay senseless amid the debris of a shattered wind-screen. In the rear -seat a youngish man was defending himself vigorously against the rain -of blows showered on him by the mob which clambered on to the vehicle. - -"My God! Captain Hathaway!" Even as Jim shouted he had turned to dash -down the stairs. - -He flung himself into the fierce mob as once before he had rushed at -the knot of Germans with bombs poised to throw, his captain an imminent -victim. Old instincts surged to supremacy--he fought his way blindly to -the car in a blur of blows. A second later he had dragged a dazed man -into the entrance of the house, had slammed the door. - -"Come on, sir--come upstairs and sit down." Jim forgot for the moment -the wretched room to which he invited him. He was living in a memory -of the trench days where he had sometimes dreamed that his beloved -captain might on some incredible occasion sit at tea with them in a -nice little home and tell Ann that her husband had been a good soldier. -Half supporting him, he pushed him into the apartment, pulled a box out -for him to sit on. - -"Here you are, sir. Take it easy for a minute. You'll soon be all -right." - -Captain Hathaway put his hand to a damp forehead, looked stupidly at -the blood on it, and then, still dazed, stared at his rescuer. - -"What?--Swain?" He smiled faintly. "For the second time, eh?" - -"Yes, sir--I'm glad to say!" - -The tall man picked up his soft hat, glaring from Jim to the employer -he had rescued. - -"Come on, Bruxby," he said, in a voice quivering with anger. "There's -nothing more for us here--the man's a d--d scab!" - -Jim listened to the heavy feet of the pair of them tramping down the -staircase. - -Captain Hathaway looked around him, then took a deep breath and stood -up. - -"I'm all right again now. It's all come back to me. Swain," he put his -hand on the man's shoulder, "will you believe me when I say I quite -understand--and that's it a shame, a d--d shame! I've been away. I -couldn't do anything till now." He looked at the woman by the cradle, -held out his hand. "This is Mrs. Swain?" She stood staring at him, -making no responsive movement. "Look here, I want to help--here"--his -hand dived into his pocket, fished up a bundle of notes--"why, you're -starving, woman!" He thrust them into her hand and she let them fall on -the floor. - -"I want work, Captain Hathaway--not charity," said Ann, shaking with -temptation resisted. - -The ex-officer turned to his man. - -"Swain," he said. "I haven't been blind to all this--but, believe me, I -couldn't do anything till now. I want to talk to you. Will you listen -to me?" - -It was some time later when Captain Hathaway (who had already seen his -chauffeur into a police ambulance while Jim harangued the crowd into -sullenness) drove his car down to the great gates of Hathaway's works. -Jim Swain, the men's leader, sat by his side. - - * * * * * - -In the long boardroom, with its thick Turkey carpet, its heavy mahogany -furniture, its framed photographs of former directors, the controllers -of Hathaway's and its linked houses sat already at the council-table. -The air was heavy with cigar smoke when Captain Hathaway entered. - -"Sorry I'm late, gentlemen--no,--a little accident--I'm quite all -right--nothing at all serious," so he responded to the queries evoked -by his cut forehead as he sat down. - -His father rose, pompous, full-cheeked, settling his pince-nez with -one hand, while he gathered together a little sheaf of papers with the -other. - -"Gentlemen," he said, "to-day I have to communicate to you officially -what I think all of you know privately--a communication which (hem!) -marks another epoch in the successful history of the house of -Hathaway. I have transferred to my son, Captain Hathaway--who has -not unsuccessfully graduated in the stern business of war--(Hear, -hear!)--my controlling interest in all the enterprises of which -hitherto I have been the head. I propose--and I believe you will second -me in this--that Captain Hathaway be duly elected to the board as -managing director." (It would have been difficult for the audience -to have disputed this had they wished. There was a unanimous "Hear, -hear!") Sir Thomas Hathaway passed a bulky envelope across to his son. -"Here, Harry, I give you all the deeds of transfer, duly executed and -dated as from yesterday. You are now the head of Hathaway and Company!" -There was a faint sketch of a cheer from the fat old gentlemen round -the table. - -"Now, gentlemen," continued the retiring chief, "before I sit down, -I should like to give you some account of my stewardship. I think -we all of us perceived in the circumstances of the present time an -opportunity to settle, once and for all, our score with Labour. That -opportunity has not been neglected. All the factories controlled by -us, in agreement with the other houses in the trade--which have most -loyally backed our action--have been shut down. The date of their -reopening has not yet been decided upon, but I may tell you this, -gentlemen, the Trade Union with which we have had so much trouble in -the past is _bankrupt_. We are entitled to industrial peace, on our -own terms--but the terms which we have offered, and which were not -ungenerous in the circumstances after safeguarding our interests, have -been stubbornly rejected by the men's leader--the man Swain. This -left us no alternative but to put on the screw--and we have replied -by serving notices of ejection on all those of our ex-employees who -are behindhand in their rent. I think you will agree with me that in -this we have the fullest justice on our side! (Hear, hear!) And now, -gentlemen, I retire from my managing directorship and make way for my -son, in the fullest confidence that he will maintain and extend the -great and honourable traditions of this business." - -Captain Hathaway stood up. His face was strangely pale and set. - -"Gentlemen, you have listened to my father's remarks. They represent -accurately the theory of our past relationship between ourselves and -our employees. (Hear, hear!) But, gentlemen, I want to bring home to -you that it is a theory quite impossible to maintain at the present -day! In accepting the leadership of this house, I am fully conscious -of my responsibilities--responsibilities not only to you who have -financial interests in the business, but to those who live by the -employment we offer them and to the State which makes it possible for -them to work and for ourselves to derive profit from that work. From -this day, gentlemen, and for so long as I am head of this firm, our -relations with our employees are on a different basis. The factories -will reopen to-morrow--at the old Trade Union rates, excepting where -the new rates I have offered to the men are more remunerative to them. -The policy of the firm is reversed!" - -Captain Hathaway, in all his experience of war, had never felt the need -of all his courage so much as in making this announcement--which, to -himself, sounded brutally bald. - -One of the directors rose, banging nervously upon the table with his -fist, and shaking with rage. - -"By God!" he said, "I never thought Tom Hathaway's boy would be a -traitor!" - -Sir Thomas Hathaway half rose, and sat down again--looking as though he -were going to faint. - -Another of the directors stood up. - -"Has our new managing director any other harmless little proposals to -make?" he asked, in bitter sarcasm. - -"Yes," replied Captain Hathaway, "I propose to take powers to create -a new Deferred Stock which will rank for dividend after the Ordinary -Stock has received eight per cent, but which will in all circumstances -carry a right to vote on the board--and this stock will be vested in -the representatives of our employees, chosen by them." - -"It will never be agreed to by the men!" cried a voice. - -"It _is_ agreed to already by the men's representatives," replied the -new chief, feeling the coolness of courage return to him as once when -he had faced the mob of Germans. - -The wealthiest of the directors, a man associated with other houses in -the trade, rose in his turn. - -"I warn you, Hathaway, that I shall dispose of my interests in this -business--and I'm going to fight you to the last shilling! You'll be -broke in a year!" "All of us! All of us!" came a chorus of approval. -"We'll all fight! This is sheer madness!" - -"Fight, if you will, gentlemen," said Hathaway calmly. "It won't pay -you. I haven't been idle these three months. I may tell you that I -have contracts in my pocket that will keep us going for many months -to come--more than a year. The whole world is shrieking for goods, and -Germany is supplying them--capturing your markets while you commit -suicide in trying to get the better of Labour. In these last months I -have established agents all over the world--and I've got the orders! -I know what the other houses have got--I know what's open to you--you -_can't_ fight us!--but you'll be taken over by the Government if your -obstinacy continues this unworthy industrial strife." - -There was a silence of vague-headed, angry old men who did not quite -know what to say. - -"And now, gentlemen," continued Hathaway. "Let me plead for a better -spirit. That great mass of human beings you coldly call Labour fought -for England just as I fought for England, just as thousands and -thousands of our own class fought. We've been together in the trenches -year in year out and we've learnt to know each other, not as hostile -abstractions, but as living men,--good men, the most of us. We learnt -all sorts of things we didn't realize before the war, but most of -all we learnt--and when I say we, _I mean your sons as well_--that -we're all Englishmen and that we all have to play the game and stick -together--officer and man. D'you think I who have watched over the -comfort of my men, taught them, led them into danger and seen them -unafraid, who have hungered with them, thirsted with them, gloried in -them for these last long years--d'you think I can coldly condemn those -men and their wives and children to starvation now? D'you think I can -treat them as an enemy? I can't. And the men who have been proud of -us, their officers,--d'you think they haven't learnt the value of -leadership? They have--but not the leadership of a slave-master. In the -long bitter years of strife those men have won for themselves a freedom -of soul which is the life-force of a free Empire! Class-hatred! It has -vanished as between officer and man. We're all Englishmen together--and -we're going to work, share and share alike, in the new England, that, -share and share alike, we fought for!" He flung open the door behind -him. "Here, gentlemen, is Jim Swain, the leader of your work-people in -their time of trouble. He saved my life twice--once in the trenches -and got a D.C.M. when he ought to have had the V.C.--and again to-day -when he set a seal of comradeship between the managing director and the -employees of Hathaway's. Together, he and I, and those we represent, -are going to make our patch of England worth the lives that were spent -to save it!" - -There was a hush in the room, and into that hush came the strains of a -military band playing a regiment to the neighbouring railway station. -It played the familiar marching tune of the old days, and a flaw of -wind brought masculine voices in the uplift of the chorus. - - "... There's a silver lining - Through the dark clouds shining, - Turn the dark cloud inside out, - For the boys are home!" - -"They're coming back!" cried Captain Hathaway. "Coming back in their -thousands and their millions--officers and men--your sons at the -head of the men they have learned to love! Comrades that can never -be estranged! We're the new generation, gentlemen--the old order has -gone--never to return--we've come back, Swain and I, from the borders -of death that has taught us how precious life may be." - -The heads, bald and florid, of that obese elder generation turned in -a community of curious interest, to gaze at Swain--the man who had -nerved his fellows to withstand an economic pressure they had thought -irresistible and was now hailed as comrade by their own young chief. - -The ex-soldier took a step forward. - -"I should just like to say this, sirs--we men know what it is to have -good officers--and we've never let 'em down. We've come back, officers -and men, and officers like Captain Hathaway will always find their -men work for them as they used to fight--for officers like him make -us feel the Old Country is worth working for as it was worth fighting -for. We've learnt to play the game--and we'll play it so long as we -have fair play. The British soldier has learnt to die rather than -surrender--and the British soldier is just the British working-man." - - - - PRINTED BY - WILLIAM BRENDON AND SON, LTD - PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BATTLEWRACK*** - - -******* This file should be named 60530.txt or 60530.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/0/5/3/60530 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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