USES OF A TRANSPORT LORRY
The Rutlands had a somewhat longer spell in billets than usual. They
were awaiting a draft from the base to make good their losses. The
officers and kind friends at home had provided books and games as a
relief from the constant mental strain to which modern warfare subjects
a man, and with these and impromptu smoking concerts they beguiled the
tedium of inaction.
Monsieur Obernai was very active in effort on their behalf. Speaking
English with only a trace of foreign accent, he went freely about among
the men, conversing with them about their experiences, retailing
reminiscences of Alsace, making liberal presents of cigarettes. He was
very affable with the officers billeted in his house, and sometimes
joined them in their mess-room. On one of these occasions he remarked
with a smile that but for the incessant booming of the guns he would
hardly have known that war was going on, so little did they talk about
it.
"Anything but that, monsieur," replied Captain Adams. "'Deeds, not
words,' is our motto. The whole thing is so frightful that we try to
forget all about it at off times."
"It is so different in our army," said Monsieur Obernai. "Our officers
are not capable of such detachment."
"'A still tongue makes a wise head,' monsieur," said the captain.
Monsieur Obernai looked puzzled, but smiled amiably. He had a pleasant
smile.
One day the battalion was suddenly paraded. A few minutes afterwards a
motor car drove up, and the men recognised with a thrill that the
commander-in-chief had come to inspect them. Sir John French passed up
and down the lines, addressing a man here and there, then made a little
speech to the battalion as a whole, complimenting them on the work they
had done and promising them stiff work in the future and ultimate
victory. After visiting a few slightly injured men who remained in the
village, the field-marshal drove away amid ringing cheers.
The battalion had only just been dismissed when the whirr of an
aeroplane was heard, and a few seconds later a Taube flew over the
place.
"Look out!" cried somebody.
Some of the men scuttled for cover, others looked up nonchalantly into
the sky. The aeroplane was out of range. Suddenly there was a terrific
explosion. A column of earth and smoke shot up from a field a few
hundred yards west of the village. The Taube was seen flying back,
chased by a couple of English aeroplanes.
"It almost looks as if they knew the chief was to be here," remarked
Colonel Appleton, watching the chase among his officers.
"And we only knew it ourselves twenty minutes before he arrived," said
Captain Adams.
"Well, I knew it last night, but I kept it to myself. Got word by
telephone. They may have tapped the wire. The spies aren't all
scotched yet, Adams."
"The deuce!" exclaimed the captain. "I'd like to catch some of them."
"The Germans have very little for their money, though. Look! our
fellows have brought the Taube down."
Behind the German lines the aeroplane was whirling in precipitous
descent from an immense height.
"Two more good men lost!" said the colonel. "And the spies will go on
spying."
Next night the Rutlands were ordered back to the hill village. The
enemy was to be turned out at all costs. Regiments were coming up in
support, and as soon as a sufficient reserve was collected the attack
was to be driven home. The men were fired with grim resolution. News
had just come in of the employment of poisonous gas at Ypres, miles away
to the north, and as they cleaned their bayonets they vowed to avenge
their fallen comrades from Canada.
The upper part of the hill had been held against repeated assaults by
the Germans. The opposing lines crossed the main street, about ninety
yards apart. Between them the houses had been demolished by one side or
the other. The houses above the British trenches, and those below the
German, were occupied by snipers. The British snipers had an advantage
in being above the enemy; on the other hand they were more exposed to
artillery fire, and their positions had been a good deal knocked about.
To protect themselves from the fire of these snipers the Germans had
made the parapets of their trenches unusually high. This handicapped
them to some extent in replying to rifle fire; but they had compensated
themselves by installing a large number of machine guns, which were
certain to take a heavy toll of the attackers when they charged down the
hill.
Soon after the Rutlands reached their position at the top of the hill,
in the dusk, a lorry came up from the rear with supplies for the next
day. Owing to the rearward slope the vehicle could be brought to within
a few yards of the trenches without being seen by the enemy, and since
horses were employed as less noisy than a motor engine, supplies had
been regularly brought up in this way without the knowledge of the
Germans.
Kenneth and Ginger, with other men, were unloading the lorry when a
second lorry appeared near the foot of the hill on the British side. It
was heavily laden, and the slope proved to be too much for the two
horses drawing it.
"Old cab horses, they are," said the driver of the lorry that was being
unloaded. "Not fit for this job. I'll have to go down and lend a hand."
Placing a brick under one of the wheels, he unharnessed his horses and
led them down the hill. Kenneth and Ginger were carrying a box between
them to the communication trench running downwards from the crest when a
shell came whizzing over from the German side and exploded near the
lorry they had just left, bespattering them with earth, felling one or
two of their comrades, and sending the rest scampering into the trench.
The shock of the explosion caused Kenneth to drop his end of the box:
both he and Ginger were dazed for a few seconds. When they looked round,
they were aghast to see the lorry moving backward down the hill. Only
half its load had been removed, and though its motion was at present
slow, it would gather speed and, unless it could be checked, would crash
into the second lorry to which the driver was now yoking his horses.
For a moment they were paralysed by realisation of the frightful danger.
Men, horses, stores would all be hurled and crushed in hideous wreck.
The heavy vehicle was already rolling on more quickly when with mutual
decision they left the box and sprinted after it. The case was
desperate. Neither of them had any idea how the catastrophe could be
averted. It would scarcely be possible to loose the skid and throw it
into position while the lorry was running, faster every moment.
More fleet of foot than Ginger, Kenneth rushed ahead, overtook the
lorry, and, a thought striking him, seized the pole, and exerting all
the force of which he was capable while running at speed, twisted it to
the left. The lorry swerved, appeared to hesitate, then ran into a
shallow ditch at the side of the road and turned over. The pole,
striking against a tree, snapped off, flinging Kenneth to the ground.
"Whew!" gasped Ginger, running down. "That was a near thing."
"Twenty yards," said Kenneth, rising and rubbing his elbow.
"George! that was a near 'un!" panted the driver, who had hastened up.
His face was very pale. "I owe you one, mate. Nothing else would have
saved us. Hope you ain't hurt."
"Nothing to speak of. The lorry has come off the worst."
"George! you're right! It's what you may call snookered. Done for,
that's what it is. We'll have to shove it out of the way before I can
bring my horses up, and leave it. What you say, Bill?"
"Can't do nothing with it," said the driver of the second lorry.
"Take my tip, and put the skid on when you get yourn up, mate. George!
it give me a fright and no mistake."
They drove the second lorry to the summit, leaving Kenneth and Ginger to
carry up the spilled load.
"The lorry isn't so badly damaged as he thinks," said Kenneth. "The
brake is bent, and a good deal of wood is chipped off, but the thing
will run all right."
He so informed the driver when he met him.
"All the same, you don't catch me driving it back to-night," said the
man. "It's nearly dark, the road's bad enough when you're too complay,
as the Frenchies say. I'll leave it to the morning at any rate."
It was dark when Kenneth and Ginger had finished their task. They took
their places with their platoon in the firing trench.
"Think they'll have any gas for us to-morrow?" said Ginger.
"It's not very likely," said Kenneth. "The gas the Germans have been
using lies low; it would be more useful to us."
"Well, why shouldn't we use it too? What's the odds whether you're
killed with gas or shrapnel? Gas don't hurt, I expect, and it's a deal
cleaner."
"Upon my word I don't know," Kenneth replied. "There's no logic in it.
But somehow it goes against the grain. You poison dogs with gas, not
men."
"Besides, it's taking an unfair advantage," said Harry. "It depends on
the wind--and there's no crossing over at half-time."
The notes of a flute came along the trench from the left.
"Stoneway's at it again," said Ginger.
"The fellow can play," remarked Harry. "Good stuff, too. He doesn't
confine himself to the trumpery tunes of the musical comedies. That's a
bit of Mozart."
"I've heard that tune somewhere," said Ginger reflectively. "I haven't
got much of an ear for music, but I know them twiddles. Why, hang me, I
heard 'em when I was in that cellar. Somebody was playing 'em
upstairs."
"It's a concerto every flautist knows," said Harry. "The Germans
certainly lick us in music."
"A pity they're not satisfied with that," said Kenneth.
They listened in silence till the conclusion of the piece, and joined in
the general applause. After a short interval the performer began again,
now, however, playing detached notes that had neither time nor tune.
"Those exercises, again!" said Ginger. "That's the worst of music. My
little Sally is learning the pianner, and she makes me mad sometimes
with what she calls the five-finger exercises. 'For mercy's sake play
us a tune,' says I. 'I've got to practise this, Dad,' says she.
'What's the good of it?' says I. 'Teacher says it's to get my fingers
in order,' says she. Anybody'd think her fingers weren't the same as
other people's; they're all right; a very pretty hand she's got....
He's stopped, thank goodness! Pass up the word for 'Dolly Grey,' mates."
Silence presently reigned. The men reclined, dozing.
"I say, Harry," said Kenneth.
"What is it?" replied Harry sleepily.
"I've been thinking. We might make good use of that lorry."
"How?"
"Let it loose on the Germans."
"Send it down-hill, you mean?"
"Yes."
"What's the good? They'd hear it coming and clear out of the way. It
might break their wire and a bit of the parapet--hardly enough damage to
be worth the fag."
Kenneth was silent for a little. Then he roused Harry again. There
ensued a long conversation between them, at the conclusion of which
Kenneth crept along the trench to find Captain Adams. It was some time
before he returned.
"The colonel agrees," he said in some excitement. "There's no time to
lose. We've got to attack at four o'clock. Wake up, Ginger."
Ginger having been informed of what was intended, he and Kenneth stole
from the trench, up the communication trench, and set off at a trot
towards their billets. Two hours later they returned in a motor car,
which halted at the eastern foot of the hill. They carried up a large
rectangular object, and at a second journey a number of bolts and a
heavy hammer. Soon the men in the trenches heard the clank of
hammering, and Harry suggested that the lorry was being repaired.
His comrades were in fact at work on the lorry. The object which they
had brought up consisted of several sheets of corrugated zinc which
Ginger, a skilled mechanic, had bolted together in the village. This he
was now fixing upright over the rear axle of the lorry, so that it
overlapped the body of the vehicle on each side. With the assistance of
Kenneth and the driver of the car he was turning the lorry into an
armoured car, of unusual form, it is true, but likely, they thought, to
serve its purpose. When the zinc was in position, they filled up the
space between the sheets with sand, and so completed a bullet-proof
screen about nine feet wide. Then, going into one of the half-ruined
houses, they brought out a number of planks and carried them to the
centre of the firing trench. There, over a space of about ten feet, the
parapet was quickly demolished, and the planks were laid across side by
side, forming a bridge. The men of the platoon had meanwhile been taken
into their confidence, and when Captain Adams called for volunteers to
cut the wire immediately in front, several men crawled out and did the
work without being detected.
These preparations having been completed, half a dozen men quickly
pushed the lorry over the crest of the hill to within a few yards of the
trench. Favoured by pitch darkness, and moving with the utmost
quietness, they had everything in readiness by three o'clock, without
the knowledge of the Germans, and even of the more distant platoons of
their own battalion.
The orders of the day were already known along the British line. They
were to attack just before dawn. The hill was to be cleared of Germans.
It was a task for rifles, bayonets, and hand grenades. They could
expect no help from artillery, so narrow was the space dividing the
lines.
At the appointed moment, twenty men of the 1st platoon formed up in file
behind the lorry, each carrying a hand grenade in addition to his rifle.
The word was given. They pushed the lorry off; on each side the other
men scrambled out of the trenches; some crawled forward and cut the wire
on either side. Then, without uttering a sound, they charged down the
hill.
The lorry rumbled slowly over the plank bridge, on to the road, and
gathered way as it bumped and jolted down towards the German trenches,
the twenty men running behind it. When it had covered a dozen yards it
was greeted with rapid rifle fire from the German sentries. There were
shouts from below, but before the enemy realised the manoeuvre, a shower
of hand grenades fell among them, the lorry crashed through the wire
entanglement, broke through the parapet, and turned a somersault over
the trench.
Then a yell burst from the throats of the Rutlands, and the air was rent
by the crackle of rifles all along the line except at the spot where the
lorry had fallen. There Kenneth and his companions sprang into the
trench, and pushing along to right and left, cleared it with the
bayonet, the panic-stricken Germans fleeing before them or flinging up
their hands in token of surrender. Confusion spread along the whole
line. The British arrangements had been thoroughly made. While the
Rutlands charged down the main street, other regiments were sweeping
through the streets and alleys on either side, raking them with fire
from machine guns, flinging bombs into the occupied houses, chasing the
Germans at the point of the bayonet. Here and there were furious hand
to hand encounters; at one point a mass of the enemy's reserves surged
forward and gained ground, only to be borne back in turn by the
irresistible dash of British supports. In half an hour the streets were
cleared, and while some of the British blocked up the captured trenches
against counter-attack, others rushed the houses to which the enemy
still clung, and stormed them one after another.
All this had happened in the grey chill dawn. By the time the sun's rim
appeared over the distant horizon the position was completely won, at
comparatively slight cost. More than two hundred prisoners remained in
British hands, and among them Ginger, who had escaped with a few
bruises, recognised the lieutenant to whom he had been indebted for a
uniform.
When the roll was called, it was found that of the twenty men who had
followed the lorry only one had been wounded.
"A capital idea of yours, Amory," said Captain Adams. "It's a pity we
can't always be going down-hill behind screens. There's a fortune
awaiting the man who invents a bullet-proof protection for infantry in
the field."
"Wouldn't that result in stale-mate, sir?"
"Well, if it put an end to warfare by machinery it would give us a
chance for our fists! Men will fight, I suppose, to the crack of doom.
It would be much healthier if we could fight out our quarrels without
killing one another."