Attacked from All Sides
"It's going to be an attack from all sides," said Bill, as he crouched
behind a mass of masonry which stood rather higher than the rest,
and which, while giving a certain amount of shelter, also allowed
him to look out over the wreckage of the factory, to peer into
neighbouring shell-holes, past shattered and rent tree trunks towards
the Albert-Bapaume road in one direction, to Courcellette in the other,
and elsewhere across the desert of churned-up earth which represented
the heart of this once beautiful Somme country. "And I can see heads
bobbing up here and there and everywhere, and, yes, there go the
bullets!"
One of them splashed debris and rotting mortar in his eyes as it struck
the fractured masonry just above his head, while another thudded into a
sand-bag not a yard from him--a sand-bag which had lain there rotting
since 1916, and which now, receiving the sudden blow, burst asunder,
the earth which it had contained spouting out in a cascade. It was
answered almost instantly by a shot fired from a crevice somewhere down
below him. He searched for the figure of the man who had discharged
his weapon, and after a while distinguished the well-known form of
Nobby, his broad shoulders squeezed in an angle of broken masonry, his
head thrust forward, his tin hat covering him like a halo, legs bent
beneath him, arms pressed to his sides, weapon at the ready. Glancing
across the open space towards Courcellette, Bill saw one of those
dodging German figures suddenly rear itself erect, bend forward as if
about to fall, then with an effort straighten up, only of a sudden to
give vent to a shrill shout--a shriek almost--and collapse into the
shell-hole from which he had originally clambered.
"One Hun the less," grinned Nobby, turning round, "and he won't be the
only Fritz as'll 'go west' in this 'ere skirmish. Larry boy, d'yer want
our commanding officer to be shot down out of hand, just because he
must put himself up where there's no cover. I'm only a humble private,
you're a full-blown sergeant, why don't yer see to the chum that's
commanding us?"
It wasn't the first occasion, perhaps, when the good-natured Larry
had shown unusual energy and decision. Not that he was incapable of
either or both those virtues, but it was typical of Larry that as
a general rule he lounged and drawled and lisped, and really made
pretence that he was a person of no great consequence and of no great
ability in any way. Yet friends knew that he was stanch, that danger
did not daunt him, that fear was almost foreign to the nature of this
diminutive, delicate-looking, nonchalant, and unconcerned American. He
turned swiftly in the narrow angle where he lay near Nobby, and cast a
threatening glance at Bill.
"Hi! Here, you, young Bill, you come right out of that!" he shouted.
His face reddened with emotion as he gave the order. "You ain't got
no call to stand up there like a darned fool, askin' the Hun to shoot
you! Look at that? What did I tell you? Chips of mortar all round you!
They've got a machine-gun going! Come down! d'yer hear?"
Jim, on the far side of the ruin, watching the shell-seamed earth
between the factory and the main road, turned round too, lay flat on
his back for a moment under the shelter of the wall, and shook a fist
at Bill. Till then he had not noticed the perilous position in which
the young fellow had placed himself, but now he saw it clearly, and, as
showing what he thought of Bill, he too became heated, and that, let us
add, was something foreign to Jim's calm, contented nature.
"Yep," he roared. "You come right down! What d'yer want for to get
right up there, a-starin' round, when there's heaps of ruins down here
to cover anyone? Ef yer don't move quick I'll be up after yer!"
Bill surveyed the two with something approaching curt disdain. He
peered over the top of the masonry which protected his head, and
turned slowly until he had made a complete circle; then of a sudden he
pointed.
"Boys," he called out, "the officer that's commanding them is yonder
on the way to the road, and he's got a machine-gun mounted. They are
loading fast, so as to keep our attention while the rest of the men are
collecting right opposite and are making ready just now to rush us.
You'll----"
The rattle of the machine-gun in question drowned his next words, and
as the splutter died down, and the chips of mortar and bricks and stone
dropped and flew about Bill's figure, it was Jim's voice and that of
Larry that again were heard.
"You ain't heard us, Bill," Jim shouted. "Come down, won't yer! Yer
askin' to get killed."
"I'll Fritz yer, yep!" Larry called, rising from the spot in which he
lay, and jamming his tin hat closely down. "If yer don't come yerself
I'll be up there to make yer."
But Bill scarcely noticed them; he turned to look first at Jim and then
at Larry, and then cast a glance over his shoulder towards the spot
where the attacking party of Germans were forming.
"You'll stay in your places," he ordered sharply. "Someone's got to be
here to watch those fellows, and that someone's going to be the one
you've put in command. If you're not contented with him, get someone
else, for while I'm in command of the party here I stay. Jim, stop
cackling! Go over there and lie down by Larry. Here, boy!" he called
to another of the men, "your rifle'll be useful over here to stop the
rush, and, Nobby, you're the boy for the bombs--get 'em ready and heave
'em over as the Huns get within distance!"
The incipient mutiny collapsed as rapidly as it had commenced. Not
indeed that Larry or Jim or any of the others were inclined to quarrel
over-much with the young leader they had themselves appointed. The
urgency of the situation in the first place made argument undesirable
if not impossible, and then Bill's abrupt commands, his obvious control
of a difficult situation, the fact that an attack was just about to
be launched, caused them to think of other matters; the rattle of the
machine-gun, too, assisted, and to that was presently added heavy
firing from many points, which caused all to keep under cover, that
is, all but Bill, who stood stoically peering out over the top of the
ruin, watching that party of Germans as they crept from shell-hole to
shell-hole, firing an occasional shot, and getting closer every minute.
But if Bill remained aloft in his post of vantage and of danger, and if
he had summarily quelled the anticipated mutiny, he could not arrest
entirely the growls of Nobby, the surreptitious scowls of Larry, and
the almost open threats thrown at him by Jim. Then Nobby put an end to
the matter.
"He's right," he said. "That there young Bill is a-doin' just like what
one of our young orficers would do, same as your orficers would take
on, Larry, and here are you a-cussin' of him for it. You ought to be
ashamed of yerself, you ought!"
That, with bullets flicking just above the wall and half an inch over
the top of Nobby's tin hat! Not that it upset this gallant British
soldier, not either that it could upset Larry--the quiet and somewhat
retiring Larry. To speak the truth, in all his experience of Bill,
Larry had never been so abruptly silenced, and, conscious as he was
that his young friend was quite in the right, he yet burned with
indignation at the summary way in which his own efforts had been
worsted, and, finding Nobby close at hand and now trying to turn the
tables on him, he swung round, leant up on one elbow, and poured a
torrent of invective upon him.
"Say, here, this is real fine! Here's you and me and Jim gets turned
down by that there young cuss of a Bill, and when he's put in the
last word and fired the last shot, as you might say, there's you come
roundin' on a pal--you, Nobby, what never could keep yer mouth shut.
See here, sir; you're British, I'm American--only just as British as
you are, if you know what I mean--I----"
A bullet put a very sudden end to Larry's explosion; it hit the tip of
his tin hat and sent it off amongst the ruins booming and clanking,
while the shock of the blow partly stunned the American. He blinked at
Nobby, who just a second before had raised a huge grimy fist and placed
it within an inch of his nose. Larry blinked again. Nobby grinned. Jim
roared outright, and thus, with the help of an enemy bullet, the little
fracas was brought to a friendly ending. A second later Bill's voice
was heard.
"Boys!" he called out; "there's a bunch of Huns within sixty yards of
us, and they've all converged into one shell-hole. I don't suppose
there's a man here who could pitch a bomb that far--only if there
was----"
"Look 'ere, young chap," came from Nobby, "sixty yards! and yer don't
think a man can do it! You watch. Larry, stand by to corpse the first
Fritz that puts his head up and tries to shoot at me. Jim, you do the
same. Same over there. You watch the boys with that machine-gun. I
don't take much notice of a single rifle, but being filled up with lead
ain't healthy, as Larry likes to say; it ain't good for a fellow. So
just you watch, and yer mates with you. Now then for brother Fritz in
the shell-hole!"
He stood up, deliberately measured the distance from the ruin to the
shell-hole at which Bill then pointed, pulled the pin from a bomb, and,
swinging his powerful shoulders back, sent it hurtling towards the
object. It struck a shell-hole three yards nearer, and for a moment
obscured the one at which he had aimed, flinging up a cloud of mud and
grass and loose material. By then Nobby had poised himself for a second
attempt, and, hardly pausing to measure the distance, launched his
missile, and then stood watching its curve as it approached the object.
It was Larry then who shouted, and Bill too joined in.
"Bang! Right in the centre," the latter called. "If they don't pick
it up they'll be done for. They can't! Look at 'em! They're trying to
bolt."
"They ain't got time--not any," Larry told him as they peered over the
top of the breastwork. "There she goes!"
There was a dull detonation, a bright flash of flame, and then shouts.
A second before, the shell-hole, into which Bill could look to some
extent but the interior of which was hidden from the eyes of his
comrades, had appeared empty but for a drain of water at the bottom;
but, as the bomb fell, heads had bobbed up, and, just before the
explosion occurred, fifteen or more men had struggled desperately to
dash away from it. That explosion caught them in the midst of the act,
and every one was killed or wounded. It was indeed a brilliant ending
to this first attempt to defend themselves against the enemy, and
caused the garrison of the shattered factory to set up a shout.
"But they ain't done--not by a whole heap," said Larry, producing his
cigar. "It stands to reason, seeing we are here right in the midst of
the enemy, that they'll have reinforcements. The noise of the bomb'll
bring 'em along if the officer's whistle don't do it. Hear that? You
can hear him a-whistlin' now for help. Boys, there's goin' to be a
stand-up tussle."
Whereat Larry gripped his cigar and wetted his lips, while his eyes
flashed. It was plain indeed that this diminutive American felt no
fear, but rather that he was full of enthusiasm and ready for anything
that might happen. That Jim, too, was thirsting for adventure there
was little doubt, while the rest of the party could be relied upon
to support their young commander and his two American friends. Nobby
himself was likely to be quite a formidable opponent.
"You see, Bill," he called out after a while, "having had one sort of
lesson, and now that they know we've got bombs with us, they'll keep
at a distance and'll turn machine-guns on us. Seems to me we've got
to think out some clever way of fightin' 'em. What d'you think, boy?
Supposin' they gets shootin' bombs in here, same as we've been throwin'
'em out--as they will, 'cos Fritz is a nasty chap at thinkin' things
out--and supposin' we're a-lyin' as we are now--not healthy--eh, boy?"
"You bet!" Larry chimed in; "we should get 'done in', like Fritz over
there in the shell-hole."
"Then we'll separate," Bill told him. "What d'you say to this,
boys? That German officer and his men have seen us here in this
ruined factory, and every shot they've fired has been put in in this
particular direction. If shell-holes are good enough for Fritz, ain't
they good enough for us too? Why not separate, though still forming a
sort of circle? I'll stay up here and can call out to any one of you;
then if bombs are thrown in, as Nobby says----"
"As you can see for yourself," said Nobby dryly, as a rifle sounded
in the distance and a grenade flew over the wrecked factory and burst
beyond it, "as you can see for yourself now, Bill."
"As I know," went on Bill, "then there's only one that's likely to be
damaged."
"And that's you," said Larry.
"And who else?" Bill asked him curtly. "We've had all that before. You
clear off, Larry, and you too, Jim. Boys, scatter in the same direction
as you're lying in now. Slip off to the nearest shell-hole, get the
best cover, and hold your fire till you know you've cause to use your
rifles--we've got to keep the enemy out till night-fall."
And then what was to happen to this gallant and somewhat forlorn little
party? Could they, having regard to all the circumstances in which they
stood, really look forward to securing their liberty and to gaining the
Allied line? Could they, when they remembered that between them and
that line there stretched a host of Germans, and reflected also that
at the moment they were surrounded--could they reasonably expect to
make further progress? It was hardly possible, certainly not probable,
though, fortunately for all the members of the little band commanded by
Bill, such thoughts hardly crossed their minds, and there was no time
for reflection. Even as they wriggled off from the ruined walls of the
factory, sidling in behind layers of brick, dodging between battered
and perforated boilers and so gaining shell-holes, enemy bullets came
buzzing thicker than ever over the scene, while every minute or so a
rifle grenade reached the ruins, and, bursting, filled the air with
bits of iron, with fragments of stone and mortar, and threw up such a
cloud of dust, in spite of recent wet weather, that life became more
difficult.
"Still, we've got pretty good cover," Bill thought, as, perched in a
niche he had selected, he hung to his post and watched carefully all
round, every now and again raising his rifle and firing at a German
figure. "If only it would get dark. But it won't, not for hours yet,
and there's no mist--nothing to cover us. Hi, Larry!" he shouted;
"they're bunching up in front of you and Nobby. Break 'em up, if you
can!"
Nobby, with a cigarette hanging to the very corner of his mouth,
grinned in Bill's direction and then at Larry. It was an extremely
cool and methodical Nobby who then proceeded to pip, as he termed it,
brother Fritz, his shots, together with Larry's equally well-aimed
fire, soon dispersing the band of Germans approaching from the point
directly in front of them. But there were other points from which the
enemy were advancing also. Unpleasant little rushes were indulged in
here and there, all of which served to bring the enemy still nearer,
till, as the minutes grew to an hour, and that hour into two, the
defenders were more closely surrounded, engirdled by an increasing
number of Germans, whose offensive became increasingly insistent.
Bombs, too, became more frequent, bursting amongst the ruins, and in
course of time driving Bill and the defenders completely out of them.
"It's no go!" Nobby was at length forced to admit, smiling grimly and
somewhat wryly at Bill.
"See here, Bill," Larry joined in, for the three were now in a
shell-hole together, "ef it was a case of dying hard, so as we might
hold the line that meant the safety of our pals yonder, we would be
right to do it, and we'd do it willingly. But a live man, Bill, is much
better than a dead one, eh?"
"Yep, a live man lives perhaps to fight again, while if he's dead he
ain't no longer any use. Nobby's right: there ain't nothin' degradin'
in giving in. Things has gone against us."
That was the opinion of them all, though quite loyally they had
supported their young leader without a grumble. Yet already more than
one of the defenders had paid the price for resisting the enemy,
while of the latter quite a number were grovelling lifeless in the
surrounding shell-holes. It was a little after noon, therefore, that
Bill, tying a somewhat dirty handkerchief to the top of his bayonet,
lifted the latter over the top of the shell-hole and waved it. The
machine-gun answered it with an angry rattle and then ceased, while a
glance over the top showed him an answering signal. Then there came
an order shouted in a loud voice: "Stand out, all of you, and advance
without your arms. You've put up a good fight and shall have fair
treatment."
[Illustration: BILL, TYING A SOMEWHAT DIRTY HANDKERCHIEF TO THE TOP OF
HIS BAYONET, WAVED IT]
"Fair treatment!" scoffed Larry. "That's a prison, with skilly, with
food at which the lowest criminal would turn up his nose. However,
we're beggars this time and can't choose. But, Bill, there's still a
chance to get out. Some of our boys has escaped, why not us, eh? We can
do what others has done."
"You bet!" Bill answered. "Now, boys, out we go; we've made a fight,
there's nothing to be ashamed of!"
Presently they were surrounded by Germans, who, contrary to their
expectations, treated them quite fairly. There was no roughness
displayed, for, indeed, the two hours or more during which the contest
had lasted had filled the enemy with admiration for this sturdy little
party. After all, German or no German, the enemy could appreciate
bravery. He may be, and is undoubtedly, a cruel and ruthless opponent;
he wages war in a manner which has sullied his name for ever, but in
individual bravery he is by no means lacking, and he can appreciate
similar qualities in his opponent.
Therefore, having placed an escort round the prisoners, the officer
marched them away to the adjacent road, and presently sent them along
it. Yet Bill and his friends had not quite done with incident. Ere
they gained a German prison that evening, they were herded in a camp
near by; and, just as the light was falling, observed an aeroplane
making ready to take the air and join in the enemy offensive. Yet was
it merely for ordinary purposes that this machine made ready to depart?
Bill of a sudden grabbed Larry's arm as they stood close to the wire
entanglements which surrounded them.
"It's--" he gasped, "it's Heinrich Hilker!" and in his excitement he
clutched at the barbed railing.
Larry stared and then started. A second later he clasped his thin
fingers firmly round Bill's arm and pulled him back.
"Get hold of him on the other side, Jim," he said hoarsely. "Gee! If
that isn't that traitor! If that isn't the man who shot Bill's father
way back in the saloon in the Utah mine camp! If that ain't the agent
that fired the bomb aboard the ship that brought us to Europe! Come
back, Bill; if you shout you'll give yourself away, and the man, once
he recognizes you, wouldn't stop at anything. Gosh! what a meeting! And
what's he after?"
"After! After!" said Jim, beginning now to fully appreciate the
position. "He's getting aboard that aeroplane as a passenger. He's
dressed as a American. You bet he's--he's going off to be dropped in
the American lines, where he'll act the traitor again, where he'll be a
spy."
"Stop him!" Bill tried to shout, but Larry clapped a hand over his
mouth and just stopped him; and there, as they stood, helpless to
intervene, they watched the aeroplane take flight, watched the figure
of the man they knew to be a despicable spy, dressed in American
uniform, steal off into the heavens. Without doubt the man was gone to
carry on his nefarious work amongst their unsuspecting comrades.