THE FIGHT FOR THE VILLAGE
In the darkest hours before the dawn the trenches were buzzing with
excitement. Word had been passed along that next morning the Rutlands
were to attack. The long, trying period of inaction was over. Sir John
French had ordered the capture of the village within the German lines.
The hill on which it stood commanded a wide stretch of open country, and
its possession was an essential preliminary to the general advance which
would take place when the weather improved and the reserves of
ammunition were completed.
During these last hours of the night sleepy men trudged along the road
and across the sodden fields towards the firing line. Fresh troops, some
of whom had never been under continuous fire, crowded into the trenches.
Some of the men tried to prepare breakfast in the constricted space; the
most of them were too much excited to feel any inclination to eat. The
bustle which Kenneth had noticed in the village was explained. Batteries
of heavy artillery had been brought up and placed all along the rear of
the British lines. The men listened eagerly for the boom that would
announce the great doings of the day, and they gazed up into the inky
sky, longing for the dawn.
Sitting, sprawling, packed tight in the trenches, they waited. Would
morning never come? The darkness thinned; the blackness gradually was
transformed into ashen grey, streaked here and there with silvery light.
A gun boomed miles in the rear. The men stifled a cheer. Rifle fire
burst from the German trenches. Bullets pinged across the breastworks,
and some of the newcomers involuntarily ducked. Captain Adams passed
along the simple orders of the day. "The battalion will advance in line
of platoons at 7 o'clock." Another hour to wait!
The men took off their equipment and stowed their coats in their packs.
Some munched sticks of chocolate, others lighted cigarettes but forgot
to smoke them. Boom, boom! The British guns were in full play. The
German guns were answering. Shells screamed across the trenches in both
directions. The din increased moment by moment. The air quivered with
the thunderous crashes, and sang with the perpetual _phwit, phwit_ of
bullets. Not a man dared to lift his head. Clouds of earth rose into
the air before and behind, showering pellets upon the waiting soldiers.
Boom and roar and crash! Presently the stream of shells from the
Germans diminished. It almost ceased.
"Platoons, get ready!"
"Fix bayonets!"
The men began to swarm up the parapet. There was no enemy to be seen.
The wire stretched across their front had been battered down in many
places.
All at once there was a great stillness. The artillery had finished its
work.
"Now, men!" shouted Kennedy, commander of the leading platoon.
With a cheer the men rushed forward, Kenneth on the right, Harry on the
left. On either side other regiments had already deployed and were
advancing. They came to the first of the German trenches--empty, except
for prone and huddled forms in grey, and a litter of rifles, helmets,
water-bottles, mess-tins, equipment of all kinds. Kenneth sprang into
the communication trench beside the pond, and splashed through the water
at the bottom, the rest of the platoon after him. Where were the
Germans?
They came to the second line of trenches, floundered through what seemed
an endless series of mysterious zigzag passages, waded through two or
three feet of greenish water, scrambled up the embankment beyond, and
raced across the open field, as fast as men could race with packs on
their backs, full haversacks, and rifle and bayonet, over ground pitted
with holes, heaped with earth and stones, scattered with the bodies of
men, strands of barbed wire, fragments of shells and all the dreadful
apparatus of warfare. Still there were no Germans to be seen, but
bullets spat and sang among the advancing men; here a man fell with a
groan, there one tumbled upon his face without even a murmur, scarcely
noticed by his comrades pressing on and on with shouts and cheers.
Kennedy's platoon reached the ruined church which Kenneth and Harry had
passed on their memorable night expedition. With shaking limbs and
panting lungs they flung themselves down behind the wall of the
churchyard for a brief rest. The next rush towards the village would be
across two hundred and fifty yards of open ground, bare of cover until
they came to the gardens at the back of the cottages.
The modern battle makes greater demands on individual effort and
resource than the old-time battles on less extensive fields, where all
the operations were conducted under the eye of the commander-in-chief.
Kennedy's men knew nothing of what was going on on their left and right.
They heard the insistent crackle of rifles, the rapid clack-clack of
machine guns, the whistling of shrapnel. They saw the white and yellow
puffs, with now and then a burst of inky blackness, in the sky. Boom
and crash, rattle and crack; pale flashes of fire; the ground trembling
as with an earthquake; all the work of deadly destructive machines,
operated by some unseen agency. And in a momentary lull there came
raining down from somewhere in the blue the liquid notes of a lark's
song.
"Now, men," cried Kennedy, "the last rush. No good stopping or lying
down. On to the village. Stick it, Rutlands!"
The men sprang through the gaps in the wall, rushed across the
churchyard and into the open fields. From the houses a little above
them on the hillside broke a withering fire. They pressed on doggedly,
stumbling in holes and shell pits, scrambling up and moving on again,
bullets spattering and whistling among them, their ears deafened by the
merciless scream and boom. On, ever on, the gaps in their extended
order widening as the fatal missiles found their mark. There was no
faltering. A mist seemed to hide the houses from view, but they were
drawing nearer moment by moment. Suddenly there was a tremendous
detonation in their front; a vast column of smoke, earth and brick dust
rose in the air, and where cottages had been there were now only heaps
of ruins. "I hope our own gunners won't shell us," thought Kenneth on
the extreme right, as he dashed towards the side street in which the
explosion had taken place.
And now at last the enemy were seen, some on the ground, some fleeing
helter skelter from the ravaged spot. The Rutlands yelled. From the
further end of the village came answering British cheers. Working round
the shoulder of the hill another company had forced the defences, and
the village was won.
With scarcely a moment's delay the men set to work to prepare for the
inevitable counter-attack. Lieutenant Kennedy was not to be seen.
Sergeant Colpus took command of his platoon, diminished by nearly a
half. Kenneth and Harry, bearing no marks of the fight except dirt, had
time for only a word of mutual congratulation before they rushed off to
place machine guns at the salient angles of the village. Others threw
up new entrenchments and barricades, utilising the debris of houses and
furniture. And meanwhile, on the shell-scarred field behind, the
ambulances and Red Cross men were busy.
The village consisted of one principal street, with a few streets
springing from it on either side; crooked and irregular, following the
contour of the hill. For a couple of hours the men toiled to strengthen
the position they had carried; then warning of the impending attack was
given by a shell from a German battery miles away to the east. It burst
some fifty yards in front of the village. A minute or two later four
shells plunged among the houses almost at the same instant. The warning
had given the Rutlands just time enough to evacuate the houses and take
what shelter was possible. An aeroplane soared high over the position
towards the German lines. Shrapnel burst around it, but it sailed on
unperturbed for several minutes, then swept round and returned. No
visible signal had been observed, but almost immediately shells began to
scream over the village: the British artillery had been given the range
and had opened fire. For half an hour the German bombardment continued,
gradually slackening as gun after gun was put out of action by the
British shells from far away. Finally the German batteries were
silenced, but the enemy had not relinquished his design of a
counter-attack. In the distance, over a wide front, column after column
of grey-clad infantry was seen advancing in the dense formation that had
cost countless lives in the early months of the war, but which had
succeeded many times in crushing the defence, even though temporarily,
by sheer weight of numbers.
The Rutlands manned the houses, the ruins, the garden fences, the
breastworks hastily thrown up. Other battalions occupied the German
reserve trenches running close beside the church in the rear. The
advancing Germans were met with rapid fire from rifles and machine guns.
Great gaps were cut in their ranks, but they were instantly filled up.
Time after time they were brought to a halt and showed signs of
wavering; but in a few minutes their lines were steadied and they came
on again with indomitable courage. It was soon apparent that the German
commander was hurling immense masses forward with the intention of
recapturing the village at all costs. As they approached they spread
out to right and left, attacking the village on three sides. The
Rutlands and the one company from another regiment which held it could
look for no support, for the men in the trenches also were hard beset
and unable to leave their positions because of the enfilading fire of
the numerous German machine guns.
Kenneth and Harry, with the other survivors of their platoon, occupied
two or three small houses on the southern slope of the hill. A dozen
men held a detached cottage some forty yards beyond. It was on this
cottage that the huge German wave first broke. Two or three times it
was swept back; then Captain Adams, recognising the hopelessness of
attempting to retain this isolated outpost, ran into one of the nearest
houses and called for a volunteer to carry the order for its evacuation.
Harry sprang forward among the group that instantly responded.
"Good, Randall!" said the captain. "Bring them back at once. Look out
for cover."
Harry left the house, ran along for a few yards sheltered by a brick
wall, then with lowered head sprinted along the open road towards the
cottage. He entered it from the back. Of the dozen men who held it,
only four or five were now in action. Two were dead; the rest, among
whom was Stoneway, were wounded. On receiving the captain's order, the
men who were unhurt carried out those of their comrades who were
incapable of movement, and began to withdraw. The moment they left
their loopholes the Germans they had held at bay swarmed up the slope.
Laden as they were, they could hardly escape without assistance.
"Come on, boys!" shouted Kenneth.
Followed by several of his companions he dashed out of the house. At
the wall they stopped to fire one volley, then with a ringing cheer
charged with the bayonet. At the sight of cold steel the Germans
recoiled, and their pause, short as it was, gave Harry time to bring the
retiring men under cover of the wall. Then the Germans came on again in
such numbers that Kenneth and his party had to fall back, firing as they
went, and rejoin the men in the house.
For ten minutes more they held their position, hurling the grey mass
back by the rapidity of their fire. Their rifles were hot to the touch.
Still the Germans pressed forward, some of them flinging hand grenades,
which set fire to the houses. To remain longer was to court certain
destruction. Dashing out at the back, the men rushed from garden to
garden towards the main street, only to find that the enemy had already
forced their way into that, and were pressing hard upon the remnants of
two platoons that were falling back, disputing every yard.
Kenneth glanced round among the men who had accompanied him from the
houses. Neither Sergeant Colpus nor any other non-commissioned officer
was with them.
"We'll give them a charge, boys," he cried.
Several files of Germans had already passed the end of the lane that ran
along the rear of the gardens into the main street. Forming his little
party in fours, Kenneth led them along the lane. They swept upon the
flank of the enemy, their sudden onset cutting the column in two. The
eastern portion recoiled: the western, caught between these new
assailants and the Rutlands stubbornly retreating up the street, were
cut to pieces.
"Well done!" cried Captain Adams, rushing up at the head of the men upon
whom the pressure had been relieved, "Dash down those walls there."
He pointed to a house that was already tottering through the effects of
the bombardment. Taking advantage of the enemy's confusion, the
Rutlands completed the demolition of the walls, hurling bricks, plaster,
rafters, furniture across the street, and hastily raising a barricade.
When the Germans returned to the charge, they found themselves faced by
a formidable breastwork, from behind which the Rutlands met their rush
with rifles and machine guns. They were thrown back again and again, and
during every interval the defenders ripped up the pave and worked
energetically at sinking a trench across the whole breadth of the
street.
"They are checked for the moment," said the captain. "But they'll bring
up field guns, and splinter the barricade. We'll hold the houses on
each side. I've already sent word to the colonel; if we can manage to
hold our ground for the rest of the day we shall get support to-morrow."
It was clear that the attack had been checked all along the line. The
Germans immediately in front of the village established themselves at
the foot of the hill facing the street, no doubt with the intention of
renewing the attack after another bombardment. During the day the
Rutlands were not further molested. Early next morning the village was
heavily shelled by the German batteries, but British artillery had been
moved up in anticipation of this onslaught, and after a hot duel that
lasted for nearly an hour the Germans were again silenced. Their
infantry was observed to be entrenching themselves in the fields half a
mile away, and a certain amount of spasmodic rifle fire and sniping went
on between the two forces.
The Rutlands were worn out with fatigue and hunger. It had been
impossible to bring up supplies, and they had only their emergency
rations and what food they could find in the village. But in the
evening two fresh battalions came up to relieve them, and they were
ordered back to their original billets. There the brigadier himself
complimented them on their success, and promised them a well-earned
rest.
When the roll was called, it was found that the success had been won at
a heavy cost. Half the officers and thirty per cent. of the men were
killed or wounded. Colonel Appleton was slightly injured by a splinter,
Lieutenant Kennedy had narrowly escaped death: a bullet had shattered
the wire-nippers in his breast pocket, causing lacerations of the flesh.
Stoneway's wound turned out to be very slight; and some of the men who
had been with him in the cottage were rather aggrieved that he had
withdrawn from the firing line though not incapacitated. Captain Adams,
Kenneth and Harry were among those who had come through unscathed.