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UNDER FOCH'S COMMAND
STORIES OF WAR
BY CAPTAIN BRERETON
"When Captain Brereton has a war subject to handle he always does it
well."--+Westminster Gazette.+
+The Armoured-Car Scouts+: The Campaign in the Caucasus.
+On the Road to Bagdad+: A Story of the British Expeditionary
Force in Mesopotamia.
+With Our Russian Allies+: A Tale of Cossack Fighting in the
Eastern Campaign.
+On the Field of Waterloo.+
+With Wellington in Spain+: A Story of the Peninsula.
+A Hero of Sedan+: A Tale of the Franco-Prussian War.
+With Wolseley to Kumasi+: The First Ashanti War.
+From the Nile to the Tigris+: Campaigning from Western Egypt to
Mesopotamia.
+At Grips with the Turk+: A Story of the Dardanelles Campaign.
+With Roberts to Candahar+: Third Afghan War.
+A Hero of Lucknow+: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny.
+Under Haig in Flanders+: A Story of Vimy, Messines, and Ypres.
+With Joffre at Verdun+: A Story of the Western Front.
+Under French's Command+: A Story of the Western Front from Neuve
Chapelle to Loos.
+With French at the Front+: A Story of the Great European War down
to the Battle of the Aisne.
+How Canada was Won+: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec.
+Jones of the 64th.+: Battles of Assaye and Laswaree.
+A Soldier of Japan+: A Tale of the Russo-Japanese War.
+With Shield and Assegai+: A Tale of the Zulu War.
+Under the Spangled Banner+: The Spanish-American War.
+In the King's Service+: Cromwell's Invasion of Ireland.
+In the Grip of the Mullah+: Adventure in Somaliland.
+With Rifle and Bayonet+: A Story of the Boer War.
+One of the Fighting Scouts+: Guerrilla Warfare in South Africa.
+The Dragon of Pekin+: A Story of the Boxer Revolt.
+A Gallant Grenadier+: A Story of the Crimean War.
LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, LTD., 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.
[Illustration: THE GERMAN "GOT HIM" AT ONCE]
UNDER FOCH'S COMMAND
A Tale of the Americans in France
BY
CAPTAIN F. S. BRERETON
Author of "The Armoured-car Scouts"
"From the Nile to the Tigris"
"Under Haig in Flanders"
&c. &c.
_Illustrated by Wal Paget_
BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED
LONDON GLASGOW AND BOMBAY
Contents
CHAP. Page
I. AN AMERICAN DECLARATION 9
II. THE SHERIFF'S POSSE 21
III. IN THE MINE SHAFTS 37
IV. "EN ROUTE" FOR EUROPE 53
V. A GERMAN AGENT 68
VI. BOMBED IN MID-OCEAN 81
VII. ABOARD A U-BOAT 95
VIII. CAPTURE OF THE TRAWLER 109
IX. A HARD FIGHT 124
X. THE EUROPEAN CONFLICT 137
XI. ON CONVOY DUTY 150
XII. GERMANY'S GREATEST EFFORT 162
XIII. SURROUNDED 176
XIV. WHERE MEN FOUGHT FOR EMPIRE 191
XV. ATTACKED FROM ALL SIDES 206
XVI. HEINRICH HILKER, MASTER SPY 221
XVII. AN AMERICAN ENCAMPMENT 236
XVIII. IN SEARCH OF LIBERTY 251
XIX. PLOTS WITHIN PLOTS 262
XX. A TURN IN THE TIDE 275
Illustrations
Page
THE GERMAN "GOT HIM" AT ONCE _Frontispiece_
ONE OF THE THREE FELL WITH A DULL THUD 40
THE THREE FRIENDS ARE HAULED ABOARD THE U-BOAT 88
A LUCKY SHOT TOOK AWAY A PORTION OF THE BRIDGE 128
BILL, TYING A SOMEWHAT DIRTY HANDKERCHIEF TO
THE TOP OF HIS BAYONET, WAVED IT 216
THE MAN BESIDE HIM WAS A MANIAC, HE TOLD HIMSELF 272
UNDER FOCH'S COMMAND
CHAPTER I
An American Declaration
It was one of those glorious days which they enjoy so frequently west
of the giant range of the Rocky Mountains, an exhilarating day when one
rises from one's bed and issues into the open to discover a snap in
the air. For spring was but just coming, and the mountains were still
clad in snow and in hoar frost; the atmosphere positively sparkled,
while the rays of the sun coming aslant through a giant canyon swept
across the steep slopes of the mountain, where it encompassed the
apparently sleeping city down below, and were reflected from thousands
of minute angles, from masses of virgin snow, and from icicles which
had gathered since the previous evening. Could one have clambered into
those mountains, or into the canyon we have mentioned, one would have
found here and there spring flowers already pushing their tender
buds through the coating of snow, here far thinner than higher up
towards the peaks of the range. In a hundred hollows little rivulets
were running, while towards the centre of the canyon to which all
progressed, some at speed and some leisurely, there raced a brook,
gathering size at an inordinate pace, sweeping on its surface masses
of half-melted snow, flashing here and there as the rays struck upon
bubbling eddies, and then plunging beneath an arch of snow, to go
tumbling over rocks farther down, and so speed on towards the city.
Compare this scene with the peaks above, still ice-bound, with spring
hardly come as yet, so that residence at that elevation was not to
be encouraged. Compare it with the city down below: a city of wide,
well-swept, tree-edged streets, of big houses and wide open spaces,
green already. Down there was a different scene, throbbing with life,
though from the heights above it appeared to be slumbering; with busy
cars clanging their way and motor-cars dashing hither and thither. Seen
from the heights above it presented a whitish blotch, picked out by red
roofs here and there, and by dark streaks which represented the roads.
It appeared to be a gigantic gridiron, for every block of houses was
square, and the roads intersected one another at right angles.
Out beyond it see the glimmer from a vast expanse of water--a lake--the
first glimpse of which astounded and delighted the eyes of Brigham
Young and those pioneers who, forsaking the East, fought their way
across the prairie to discover a new land, and, peeping downward at
the sight we are presenting to our reader, imagined they had gained a
fertile country--a country flowing with milk and honey. Fertile indeed
it looks from the mountains: trees by the thousand stretch out on every
hand, casting a delightful shade, and farther afield green patches
of vast extent hug the lake and stretch away into the open country,
with brown squares here and there, on which fruit farms abound, and
where dairy-men work for their living. But hasten to the lake, dip
a hand in it, and taste the water. It is brine. For down there is a
huge salt lake, which gives its name to the city. Down below there is
Utah, which, for all its salt lake and its salt desert, has been termed
"God's own country".
Ten miles away perhaps, beyond the smoke of the city, yet surrounded
in the smoke and dust which it itself creates, lies a copper-mine of
world-wide notoriety. Rails run hither and thither; tubs and trucks
clank over them; while the mountain side, which the active hands of man
and the never-ceasing grinding of machinery is eating away at a rapid
pace, presents a series of steps, as it were, along which other rails
are laid, where locomotives grunt, where trucks screech their way past
the wide openings which give admission to the centre of the mountain.
"And that is you, Jim," said one young fellow as he dropped out of a
passing truck and accosted another; "just coming off, eh? Then let's
walk home together. It takes longer, I know, for we could ride in the
trucks down to the bottom of the mountain; but a walk's a walk; it does
one good at this hour in the morning."
"Sure," the other answered, with that drawl common to men of his
country. "While we walk we can talk about the situation. What'll you
do, eh? I've been itching this two years past to be up and away. Of
course I know that some people must work, for copper's needed, and so
are thousands of other articles, but----"
"But," said Dan, looking sharply round at him--"but for us young chaps
the time's come for fighting."
They trudged on down the rocky slope along which the rails ran,
descending gradually and by an easy grade to the bottom, and thence to
the smelting plant, where the ore was crushed and treated. They walked
between the rails which carried, every day and all day and night too,
long lines of trucks, heavily laden, needing no locomotive to carry
them to their destination, they stepped aside now and again at some
siding to pass another train, this time of empty trucks being dragged
up by a smoking engine, and for a while they did not exchange another
word. For their thoughts, like the thoughts of everyone in America
at that moment, whether East or West, North or South, were filled to
overflowing.
Armageddon, the world war which had broken out with such irresistible
violence and so unexpectedly--at least unexpectedly to Americans--in
the year 1914, had progressed through long weary months to this
eventful year of 1917. Tales of tragedy had reached America; thousands
of men had heard or read of atrocities committed by the Germans in
Belgium, and had ground their teeth and become almost violent. Still
more thousands of men had taken a firm grip of themselves and had
looked at the situation as dispassionately as was possible.
"No! Not yet--not yet," they had told themselves. "America loves peace;
we are a democratic nation, all men, from the President downwards, are
equal--as good the one as the other; we wish no harm to anyone in the
world; we desire only to work, to thrive, to live surrounded by freedom
and justice, only----"
And then heads wagged, men looked doubtful, some cursed. The women,
fearful of what might follow, fearful lest America should be drawn into
this gigantic conflict, and their men-folk--their husbands and their
sons--take up the cudgels, yet perhaps more susceptible than the men,
feeling more acutely the sufferings of their distant sisters, spoke out:
"What of the _Lusitania_? Are American women and children then to be
sent to the bottom of the ocean because the Kaiser ordains that none
but German ships shall sail the seas? Is no American vessel to make
its way to England, to France, or any other country without fear that
the torpedo of a German submarine may explode beneath her? Is that the
idea that American men hold of freedom and justice?"
"Bah!" American men were getting out of hand; even the wonderful
patience of President Wilson was becoming exhausted. For see, since the
_Lusitania_ had been sunk on a peaceful voyage in 1915, other vessels
had followed the same way; more lives had been lost, citizens of the
great Republic of America had fallen victims to the ruthless acts of
German pirates; and now the Kaiser had ordained that America must
cease her traffic on the ocean altogether. She might by his consent
send a few vessels across to Europe, and these must be painted in
vivid colours, must follow certain tracks, must obey the orders of the
"All-Highest".
"And this is his idea of freedom, eh?" Jim Carpenter shouted all of a
sudden, catching Dan Holman by the shoulder, his face flushed a deep
red, his eyes glowing as through a mist. "I say, who's going to put
up with that sort of bullying, for bullying it is sure? Say now, Dan,
supposing you and I lived in Salt Lake City, and you were to say to me:
'Here you, clear out!--slick off! Salt Lake City ain't the place to
hold both you and me. Quit!--without more talking!'"
"Huh!" growled Dan, and walked on. "Huh!" he repeated, and there was
more than disgust in his voice.
"Just so," said Jim, proceeding. "You and I are chums, Dan, and such
a thing ain't likely to happen; only, supposing it was the other way,
just sort of half-friendly, as Germany and America are supposed to be
at this moment, and you out with such orders, d'you think----?"
"Do I think!" growled Dan, almost shouted it. "Don't I know that you'd
tell me to mind my own business--to quit talking nonsense, that you'd
up and say that you was as good a man, and that if I wanted to turn you
out of the city, why, I'd better get to business. And that's the answer
all of us hope the President will send to this Kaiser."
From west to east and north to south they were discussing the same
theme, the men in their clubs, in their hotels, and their offices
and elsewhere; and the women, keeping the tidy homes which America
possesses, were wondering, hoping against hope many of them still, that
war might be averted, while praying that nothing might happen to sully
the honour of America.
In the capital, at Washington, on this very day, there were collected
all the wise heads of the community, all the nominated representatives
of the States of this vast country. Even as Jim and Dan reached the
valley below, and trudged along towards the hostel where they boarded,
the decision of America was being taken, the wires were singing with
the words transmitted over them, telephones were buzzing, and that
noble speech which President Wilson delivered to Congress was being
swept to the far corners of the country.
"It is war!" said a man who suddenly emerged from a store that the two
young fellows were passing, waving his hat over his head--an uncouth,
rough individual wearing a slouch hat, a somewhat frayed coat with
many stains about it, a pair of blue trousers tucked into big, high
boots, and a tie red enough in all conscience. "War!" he shouted. "The
President ain't goin' to stand any more o' this nonsense. He's told the
Kaiser slick that if America wants to send ships over the sea, and of
course she wants to do so, she'll do it without permission from him or
any other man who likes to style himself 'All-Highest'. He's told that
German crowd that his patience is worn out, that America, although she
hates war, is going to war for the principles that are dearer to her
than almost to anyone. He's intimated to the Kaiser that he'll call
upon him somewhere in France and on the sea too, and fight the question
out till one of 'em's top dog, and that'll be America and her allies."
The fellow threw his hat into the air, and, running up to Jim and Dan,
shook them by the hand. "I know what you think," he said, bubbling over
with enthusiasm--"you two young chaps that's often chatted it over with
me; you've been waiting for the day. You, like thousands and thousands
more of us, will go across yonder to take the President's message to
the Kaiser--eh?"
They shook hands eagerly on it, and for a while stood there chatting.
For they had each of them much to say. Indeed, there were groups
eagerly talking everywhere in this mining encampment: in the houses
wherein the married people had their quarters, in the hostels where
bachelors roomed and boarded, and farther away, where the ore from this
giant copper mountain was smelted, in the hostels there, and amongst
the clanking machinery.
"War! America's at war!"
In spite of the fact that thousands of them had anticipated the event,
it struck them like a whirlwind, left them almost speechless, or,
contrariwise, set them shouting. Pass along the street and see men
dressed as they are in those parts--their hands in leather gloves,
their coats wide open, and often their shirts too at the neck, arguing,
speaking in loud tones and most emphatically, or talking in some quiet
corner to a group of friends who listen intently. In the stores along
the street they had stopped business, and customers and men behind the
counter exchanged views on the situation. In the saloons, where spirits
and other liquors were served, there was excitement; much, it must be
confessed, in one of them which bore no very enviable reputation. For
into this place a motley throng lounged or swaggered every day of the
week: Spaniards, who had come to America to delve a way to fortune;
Poles, and Greeks, and Russians, who had come from their own lands to
make wealth more rapidly; Austrians, Turks, and Germans also come
here to seek a short road to prosperity. They were seated at tables
along one wall, or stood at the bar talking heatedly like those others
outside, or whispered to one another. But behind the bar there was no
whispering on the part of the ruddy-faced and jovial tender whose duty
it was to serve drinks to those thirsty mining people.
"War!" he shouted, and brought a big brawny fist down upon the counter
with a bang which set glasses jingling. "War at last, and not too soon
neither. Down with Germans and all that's German, say I, and I've said
it these months past. Down with the Kaiser!"
A man lounging there not six feet from him, a huge hat over his eyes,
and collar turned up as if to hide his features, leaned across the
counter and tapped the bar-tender on the shoulder.
"Say," he drawled, and with a distinctly guttural accent. "You vos for
war? Ha! And you haf said: 'Down mit the Germans and Germany!'"
"Sure!" shouted the barman, rocking with laughter; "and so says every
one of us. I'm not one for politics; I'm just a plain straightforward
American, with plenty of friends and a good home, but I bar the
slaughter of women, and I don't take orders from no one. Nor shall
America! That's why I'm glad that it's going to be war. That's why I
say: 'Down with the Germans!'"
Men raised their heads as they sat at the tables, and looked across at
the bar-tender; many of them smiled, some nodded, and others laughed
outright.
"Just Charles," one of them said, "the brightest, jolliest fellow we've
ever had. It does one good to look at him. And he's downright. Say,
Charles!" he called out, "I'm with you. Down with the Germans! I'm glad
it's war. Let's get in and whop 'em."
The man leaning against the bar counter turned his head towards the
speaker and scowled.
"A German," another of the customers at a table near at hand observed,
_sotto voce_, to his comrade. "It's said that he's been over this
side only a matter of six months, and chances are that he's a German
agent, though he'd tell you that he's American to the backbone. A
sulky-looking beggar."
"Say!" that individual began again, as he stretched over the bar, and
once more tapped the bar-tender on the shoulder, "you said down mit
Germans and Germany?"
"Aye, sure!"
"And what then? And down mit the Kaiser also?"
"Of course," flashed Charlie, "him first of all, because then it'll be
easier to knock sense into the heads of the Germans."
There was a flash, a loud report, and a column of smoke just where the
bar-tender had been standing. Men sprang to their feet; one rushed
across to support the tottering figure of Charlie, while a second
man sprang towards the individual who had been leaning against the
counter. Then he recoiled, for a revolver muzzle looked steadily at him.
"Don't move," came in even tones from the rascal who had just fired.
"Stand back every one of you, I mean business."
He backed to the door of the saloon, and pushed his way through it;
then, turning on his heel, and thrusting his still smoking weapon into
his pocket, he sped down the street, passed Jim and Dan, who were still
discussing the question of war with animation, and so towards the
mountain.
Here, miles away in the heart of America as it were, the Kaiser had
indirectly brought about yet another tragedy; for undoubtedly one of
his emissaries had carried the war far afield, and had done here, as
ruthlessly as could well be imagined, the wishes of his master.