Surrounded
"Let's count heads," said Bill, some hours after the German sentry
was posted and when one of the watchers had reported that he still
continued diligently at his post. "It's getting dark--things will be
moving presently."
"And if we ain't by then, something unpleasant will be happening,"
remarked the big man with the hairy waistcoat as he ladled the contents
of a steaming dixie out into the mess-tins of the men. "That there
sentry, as I've squinted at this dozen times now, will be off the
moment it gets dark and dusk's fallen. Give 'im ten minutes from that
to shout hisself hoarse and call up some of 'is mates; after that----"
"After that," grinned one of the men, as though he rather enjoyed the
statement and thought it a joke, "there'll be a swarming band of the
blighters all round--there'll be bombs coming down most like. Say,
boys, we'd better eat all the grub we've got and make the best of it.
Pity to waste good things--eh?"
He laughed as he dug his teeth into a huge slice of bread-and-jam.
"But what about the heads? There's Jim and Bill and me--I counts
us three first, boys, 'cos, you see, I knows me mates best,"
explained Larry. "Then there's Nobby here, our cook--and prime good
stuff he turns out--that's four, and Simkins over there eating
bread-and-jam--five; and, yes, there's five more, which makes us ten
down below and one upstairs watching the Hun--eleven good boys--eh?"
"And ten hundred Huns outside," said Bill. "Yes, fair odds, Larry.
Fighting won't do much for us; we've got to use a little artifice.
Seems to me the first thing to do is to get out of the dug-out, for
once the sentry does get off, or once we're discovered, it will become
a trap. As to the sentry getting off, we could soon put a stop to that
by dragging him down here. But is it worth it?"
"And what then?" demanded Nobby. "Young Bill, you are the boy to show
us the ropes--eh?"
"Yep. You bet!" Larry interjected. "This here Bill's shown me and Jim
and a whole lot of pals the ropes before now. This ain't the time to
spout, but you can take it from me that he's a bit of a leader. Waal,
Bill, what about it?"
"Aye, what about it?" they asked, gathering round the young Englishman,
much to Bill's discomfort.
"Don't you get rattled," said Nobby, seeing him flush. For though the
light was not very good down there the fluttering candle still showed
sufficient light to make the men's faces easily visible, and Bill
had flushed at Larry's words. "You sit yerself down and take another
bite; there's just a tinful left at the bottom of my dixie. Then
have a smoke--one o' these yeller perils. Yer don't know them! Yer
don't smoke! Why, these 'ere things is the soldier's delight, and the
orficers smoke 'em too; so they're good, you can guess. No, you won't
eat any more, and yer won't smoke, but yer thinkin'. What is it?"
"Can't say," said Bill. "But I'm too young to lead you fellows."
"Too young!" exclaimed Nobby. "You don't 'come it' in that way, young
Bill. I ain't been down 'ere these many days cookin' for our mess
without learning things. My word, Larry ain't the one to talk much
unless you've got 'im in a good mood--and seems to me he ain't always
in a good mood--but he did talk at times, and--well--there's some of
us as has heard o' that trawler. Boys, there ain't no officer 'ere;
there's some of us what 'as got non-commissioned rank--but this is a
fix what's likely to cost us our liberty. Who's to lead us?"
"Bill," came from many of them. "Bill," they cried.
"Sure--Bill. Didn't I tell you, boys," said Larry. "Then get in at it,
youngster. What are we to do?"
"Do?--it's almost impossible to say," Bill answered them; for
during the last few hours he had been hard at work considering the
situation--only to meet with disappointment. How could he devise any
plan when there was nothing to base his plans upon? If they stayed down
in the dug-out they risked destruction and certainly imprisonment; if
they went abroad, well, plans then depended entirely upon circumstances.
"Boys," he said, "I'll do what I can. Some of you fellows may be senior
to me, but no matter; we're all in the show together, and if I can
help, why, you can count on me. Now, as to what we're to do: I'm going
aloft at once, and immediately it's dark enough I'm going to our German
and I'll send him off down the lane double quick, with orders not to
come back unless he wants a bullet in him. By then you chaps will have
collected all the grub you've got, each one of you will have picked
up his rifle, and you will see that every round of ammunition we're
possessed of is carried on with you. Then we take a line that leads
us west and south, and we'll make for the Somme River, for that's the
direction, I think, in which our troops have retreated."
"Good for you!" said Larry.
"It sounds a likely sort of business, it do," said the big man with the
hairy waistcoat--"leastways it's better'n nothing. Being cooped up here
is worse than bein' blown to bits or taken prisoner out in the open.
Well," he went on, swinging his arms wide, or as wide, we will say,
as the dug-out permitted, and throwing his chest forward, "the open's
the place for a man--eh, boys? Living down here like a rat or like a
rabbit ain't what I asks for."
A glance at this gallant fellow was quite enough to show that he was
an open-air man; he was indeed a typical example of your English
countryman who lives the day long in the open, thrives on fresh air,
and looks robust and sturdy. As to fear, he seemed to have no idea as
to what it meant, and rather looked upon these new difficulties and
dangers as something of a diversion. He at any rate would make a most
excellent companion on the sort of adventure on which the party were
now to step out. Bill glanced at him approvingly; Larry cocked an eye
at this burly Englishman and smiled.
"Say, boy," he lisped, "ef you ain't just it--just the sort o' pard as
Uncle Sam likes. I'm glad I've a chance of soldiering up alongside o'
you. It does a man good what's come from the States, where we've been
looking on at the fighting these last two or three years, to come in
contact with British soldiers who've been fighting like tigers all this
while. But we'll do the same, never you fear. America means business!"
Probably the huge Nobby had never had such a long speech addressed
to him before, and in front of such an audience. He positively
blushed--stuttered--grinned--and then brought an enormous paw down on
Larry's attenuated shoulder.
"Don't you worry, chum," he said; "I'll look after you. If any blighted
German tries to get at yer, just call to me."
It was hardly the kind of statement that Larry looked for--distinctly
not the sort of thing he required, for, diminutive though he was,
the American positively oozed courage and determination--that cool
determination which seemed to suit him and his languid person so
admirably. As for wanting anyone to take care of him, he was well able
to do that for himself, and was about to tell Nobby so in unmistakable
manner, when, on second thoughts, he realized that it was merely good
comradeship which had prompted him to give vent to the statement.
"You're a chum," was all he said; "you'll look after me. And say,
Nobby, ef ever you get into a tight corner, just sing out. I'm small
but I'm handy--eh?"
He grinned as he turned in Jim's direction, and then winked at Bill,
whereat Nobby glanced at the two of them to find Jim nodding violently.
"He's put the case fine," said the latter. "Larry's small--you'd think
you could take him by the neck and shake the life out of him--but he's
a vixenish little rat, I can tell you, and he'd dig his teeth into
you before you could get a real good grip. And, Nobby boy, don't you
ask him to start in with a gun; he'd flick the eyelid off of a weasel
within ten yards, would Larry--it's part of his vixenish spirit. Oh
yes, he's weak, he is! A tarnation little rat to deal with."
It was complimentary in half a sense, the reverse if viewed from
another direction. But it pleased Larry immensely, and it appealed to
the understanding of the British soldier. He glanced 'cutely at Larry,
took far more notice of the various points of his person, and then
patted him violently on the shoulder.
"I see! You're sort o' small and daring," he said,
"and--and--pug--er--what's the word?"
"Pugnacious," Bill interjected.
"Aye, pugnacious--always wantin' a row, looking round for things to
fight, like so many little people. And he can shoot--he can flick the
eyelid off a weasel! Well, that'ud want doing at ten yards. But, to
speak as you chaps do, I guess he can shoot. That's good. He'll want to
know how in the next few hours, if we're to get through the Germans.
Now, boys, up we go!"
They waited, however, in the dug-out whilst Bill clattered up the
stairs and so to the curtain. Peering out, he discovered it was
already dusk, though he could still see the German sentry. The man was
trapesing up and down in less soldierly manner--he was slouching in
fact--looking about him a great deal more than he had done before, and,
if only Bill could have read his mind, was wondering how long it would
be before the dusk was sufficiently deep to allow him to bolt away
suddenly from his captors.
"Only, then there's the alternative," this hulking German was saying
to himself. "I must return to our forces--I must continue fighting.
Ah! that is terrible! I am tired of it--always it is fight on! fight
on!--for victory! We Germans outnumber them by hundreds of thousands,
and then, where is the victory? Not at Verdun--where I fought! Not at
Ypres before it! Not since then anyway. And now in this great 'push'
shall we attain it?"
It was a question which many another German was asking himself
at that moment--many indeed of the High Command. For Germany was
staking everything--her very existence--upon this enormous and sudden
offensive, which she had launched against the British Third and Fifth
Armies. We have already recapitulated the facts of the case, and
will only remind the reader that on March 21st, when this assault
was opened, Germany's eastern front facing Russia had been almost
completely depleted of German troops. The railways across Germany from
Russia into France were almost worn out with the constant transit
of battalions; and here they were--they and those guns--those guns
manufactured by Britain for Russia and treacherously handed over to
the Germans. Here they all were--thrown pell mell at the British--and
already the line had bulged back, thanks to this enormous mass of
fighting material and to a favouring mist; and the line was to go
still farther back. Indeed the Fifth Army was to experience on this
day, and for almost ten days following, as severe fighting as ever
troops took part in on the Western Front. Nothing but swift retreat,
fighting every inch of the way, could save the British line; nothing
but constant pressure, giving here and there as German masses became
overwhelming--constant pressure, with retreat at the psychological
moment, and taking advantage of every coign and vantage-point--that and
only that, with British valour behind it, could save the line and hold
up this gigantic massed attack on the part of the enemy.
We may advance the story a little with advantage. The Fifth British
Army, which by all the canons of warfare should have been annihilated,
considering its inferior strength and the enormous advantage the mist
gave the enemy--that army retreated rapidly at first, but maintained
cohesion between its various units. It fought night and day, it fought
for every foot of the road from Peronne and back to the valley of the
Somme. It held up the German advance here and there and everywhere, and
melted away from it as huge German reinforcements were brought up. It
smote the enemy battalions, it laid thousands of them in the dirt, and
finally, after days and nights of an ordeal which would have tried the
best of troops, it passed the line at Albert, running north and south,
where the British and French trench line had rested from 1914 onwards
to the summer of 1916, until, indeed, the Somme battles were fought.
There it settled down firmly like a rock, holding up further advance on
the part of the enemy.
During these strenuous days the Third British Army, on the left of the
Fifth, also fell back as respects its right flank, inflicting very
severe casualties on the enemy, while French reserves and American
troops were poured in the direction of Albert and Montdidier, where
soon the Germans were beating against the Franco-American-British line
ineffectually, fighting desperately to continue an advance and to force
the British into a rout.
That retreat will, when its details are better known, be viewed as of
as great historical importance as that from Mons to the south-east of
Paris in 1914. Indeed, in a measure and in its own particular way, it
will demand closer attention and perhaps greater admiration on the
part of a future generation. For, whereas the retreat from Mons was
performed by the British Expeditionary Force when small in numbers as
compared with the enemy, the fighting was less strenuous, manœuvre
warfare had only just commenced and that at the very commencement of
hostilities. The retreat from Peronne to the Somme and across it was,
on the contrary, manœuvre warfare following a long period of close
trench warfare. In it the utmost use was made of mechanical means of
killing people. No cavalry screens could hold the enemy off as our
fine cavalry did on the road to the south-east of Paris. It was a case
of machine-guns and trench mortars in front firing into the British,
and British machine-guns and rifles attempting to hold up the advance
of a horde of men armed to the teeth, behind whom were masses of guns
constantly being hurried forward.
This retreat, however, is analogous to that from Mons in one respect,
in that our very gallant French ally fought shoulder to shoulder
with us. It marks as well a stage absolutely apart, a new era in this
gigantic war in that at this moment American troops appeared, to fight
shoulder to shoulder with us. Not yet had American troops appeared in
force. There were some hundreds of thousands of them already in France,
but the bulk--the millions that America can and will place in the
field if need be--were still in America, five thousand miles distant,
and time and ships were needed to convey such armies and the material
essential for them. Those American troops, let us add--forerunners of
the vast army above referred to--acquitted themselves like men. Though
only a few of the number then in France were flung into this battle
they did wonderful work, so that Larry and Jim and Bill had every
reason to be proud of them.
Mention of the last brings us back to our friends. Bill, emerging from
the dug-out entrance, gripped the German sentry.
"See that?" he said, pointing down the lane, now hardly
distinguishable. "Move on. Don't turn to right or to left--and look
out--we shall be following you. If you try to communicate with your
pals--well, there'll be trouble."
He saw the lumbering German go plodding off down the lane, his rifle
still over his shoulder, and waited until he disappeared into the
gloom. Then he shouted down the stairway:
"Come up, boys, all clear!"
One by one the men filed up from below, each carrying his rifle and
ammunition as well as a haversack filled with provisions, while the
majority also had water-bottles, and all wore steel helmets. Presently
they stood outside the entrance in the gathering dusk, a forlorn little
band, fully conscious of the fact that they stood as it were alone
in this veritable "No-Man's-Land", surrounded by a host of Germans.
Indeed, as they stood there waiting for the order to move, they
could hear voices here and there--the guttural tones of the Kaiser's
soldiers--while from their right, in a south-westerly direction, there
came the continuous rattle of machine-guns, the rolling sounds of
volleys and of independent rifle-firing, and, smothering all these
sounds at times, the racket of a heavy cannonade. Far away sounds
seemed to be echoing--the sounds of British guns and British rifles and
other weapons.
"And then?" asked Nobby, his tin hat a little on one side, his hairy
person standing out conspicuous from amongst the others in spite of
the semi-darkness. "Over there," and he jerked a thumb towards the
fighting-line, "there's ructions, and round about there's Huns, and
there'll be Fritzes here and there and everywhere between us and the
battle-line. Young Bill, you've got somethin' to face! What's the word?"
"Aye, what's the word?" others asked.
"March! Not a sound! Let no one answer if they challenge. But wait,
we'll form up into column of twos, and I'll post a man on either flank
of the column whose job it will be to tackle any inquisitive German. No
shots to be fired, boys! Butt-ends!"
"Ah! butt-ends! I'll butt-end Fritz if he comes near me!" growled
Nobby, his grin gone for a moment, looking, what indeed he was,
a formidable fellow, as he swung his rifle-butt forward from the
sling which was over his shoulder. "If Fritz comes between me and
liberty--well, it'll be Fritz's fault. I've done 'em in before now,
young Bill, and I'll do in a few more before this journey's finished."
"March!" Bill put himself at the head of the little column and trudged
forward, first a few steps down the lane and then out through a gap
which led from it towards the south-west. Right away, far on their
right, he could distinguish a huge dull mass, which common sense and
his knowledge of the geography of those parts told him must be the
Butte of Warlencourt. Farther along, a little to the right of it, would
lie the Albert-Bapaume road, the road which led to safety, and along
that again, in the direction of Albert, on either side, a country
decimated and torn to shreds by the fighting in 1916. There the Somme
battles were bitterly contested, and for miles on either hand, where
once had been a fair land dotted with pleasant villages, was now, as
he knew from frequent observation, a blasted, battered rolling plain
of mud and grass, and grass and mud and shell-holes interspersed with
fragments of smashed villages. Here and there, perhaps as much as
four feet of a wall remaining, elsewhere the base of some ancient
church, a factory in another part crumbling to dust, its machinery
rusting--rotten with exposure.
There would be derelict British tanks, too, turned on their sides,
burst by interior explosion, and far and wide, here and there in
groups--as in the case of the graves of those gallant Australians who
captured Pozières--stood pathetic little crosses, beneath which rested
all that remained of men who had gallantly fought for the empire.
You who live secure in old England, and find it almost impossible to
imagine such conditions, take the word of those who have seen. Conjure
up in your mind's eye this blasted country, and recollect that there,
on the fields they conquered, lie men who died for you, that you and
England might survive the tyranny of Prussia.
But enough of such things. Bill knew every step of the way, for he had
driven it and walked it on many an occasion.
"March!" he exclaimed; "we'll make straight for the Butte and then
for the road. Look out for Germans! A few German overcoats would give
us fine cover, and this mist also should help us far on our way. Step
out--the faster we go the better!"
They went off through the gathering gloom, through the wet mist which
was already cloaking the earth, and presently swung past the western
end of the Butte of Warlencourt, which marked the limit of advance of
the British army in 1916. Then their feet gained the Albert-Bapaume
road, and presently they were speeding along it and getting every
half-hour nearer to the sounds of battle. But though they marched
nearer and nearer to their friends, what chance had they? Would they
ever break through that line of Germans which undoubtedly extended far
and wide and cut them adrift from the Allied armies?