THE FIGHT FOR THE TOWER
As Armande's foot touched the stairs, a bullet from above struck his
steel helmet a glancing blow. The helmet was knocked from his head and
he staggered back against the wall. Jacques sprang to his side at once.
"I'm all right," exclaimed Armande quickly.
"Are you hurt?" demanded Jacques.
"Not at all; it merely stunned me for a second," and Armande rubbed his
head dazedly. "I'll be all right directly."
"You musn't try to go up those stairs again," exclaimed Jacques, as he
spoke handing Armande back his helmet, which he had picked up from the
floor.
"But we must get them out of that tower," insisted Armande.
"I know," agreed Jacques, "but we'll have to find some other way to do
it."
"But how?"
"I think I know how," said one of the men stepping forward.
"What is your scheme, Lippen?" asked Jacques eagerly.
"If we only had a machine-gun we could soon bring them down."
"But how could we carry a machine-gun up those stairs?" demanded
Jacques. "They'd shoot us down at their leisure."
"We won't take it upstairs," said Lippen quietly.
"What is your plan?"
"Send two men for a machine-gun. When they have brought it back we
will set it up here and point it at the ceiling. When we have sent a
few thousand bullets through the floor the Boches will come down fast
enough."
"Why will they?" demanded Jacques. "I don't see just what you mean."
"They'll come down because they won't be able to help it," said Lippen
grimly. "We'll blow a hole through the floor and they'll fall down."
"I believe you're right," exclaimed Jacques suddenly. "Who will go
after a machine-gun?"
Several men immediately offered their services and two were quickly
dispatched on the quest. It was a dangerous mission, as the Germans
from their position in the tower could shoot from the windows and have
anyone below almost at their mercy. In order to divert their attention
from the two messengers the men in the château started a lively
demonstration. A half-dozen hand-grenades were hurled up the stairs by
the daring soldiers and a fusillade of rifle and pistol shots was
directed towards the same spot.
Under cover of this bombardment the messengers slipped out of the
château and in safety gained the shelter of the woods. The French
attack had now carried the second line of German trenches so that the
château was in territory held by them. The Germans, trapped in the
tower, were cut off from their troops.
"They got away safely," Jacques, who had been watching the two
messengers, reported to Armande.
"Good," exclaimed Armande. "I hope the scheme will work."
"What else could we do?"
"I should like to rush the stairs," said Armande. "We can do it."
"You saw what happened to you a moment ago when you tried it," Jacques
reminded him. "Probably we could do it but what's the use in getting a
lot of men killed when we can accomplish the same result in some other
way?"
"Probably you 're right," Armande agreed. "I hate to wait though."
The men had now withdrawn to an alcove off the main hall. This new
position afforded them control of the stairway without exposing them to
the fire of their enemies. The piano was dragged over to their place
of refuge and a barricade built in front of it in case the Germans
should try to rash them.
"How many of the Boches do you think are up there?" asked Armande.
"No matter," laughed Lippen. "They'll all be down pretty soon and then
we can count them."
At this moment the guard who had been set to watch for the return of
the two men with the machine-gun signalled that they were in sight.
"Good," exclaimed Jacques. "Now let's let them have a few more
grenades upstairs there just to show them that we're still alive."
This plan was carried out and a series of violent explosions from the
room above showed that the grenades were effective. At the same time
the sentry signalled the two messengers to advance. One of them
carried the tripod of the gun and the other the barrel. At top speed
they set out from the shelter of the trees and started across the open
space leading up to the entrance of the château.
They crouched low to the ground as they ran, endeavoring to present as
small a mark as possible. Little spurts of dust all around them showed
that the Germans were firing at them from above. The demonstration by
the French inside the château was increased in intensity and one
reckless man even ran halfway up the stairs to the landing before he
threw his hand-grenade. Having hurled it, he sped down again,
slipping, sliding and falling. However he was unhurt.
In spite of all these efforts the fire directed at the two messengers
did not cease. So far, however, they were untouched and were only
fifty or sixty feet distant from their goal. Suddenly the man carrying
the barrel staggered. He reeled drunkenly for a moment and then sank
to the ground. His companion, who was in the lead, was not aware of
this and it was not until he had gained the protection of the château
that he realized that his comrade was missing.
Of course the machine-gun was useless with one part gone. Someone
would have to retrieve the other half and Armande instantly took it
upon himself to be that one. Without waiting to see whether anyone
else was going he dashed out of the doorway and raced towards the spot
where the lost barrel lay. His appearance was greeted with a storm of
bullets from the tower.
Untouched, however, he reached his goal. The barrel was lying on the
ground beside the prostrate form of the soldier who had carried it that
far; the soldier was dead, however, with a bullet through his heart.
Armande bent over and seizing the missing part of the gun he turned and
ran for the château. All about him the bullets whined and sang; it
seemed impossible that he should ever cover those few yards alive. The
evening before, however, he had remarked to Jacques that having seen
the new moon over his right shoulder he would be lucky. Whether or not
that was the reason the fact remains that he gained the doorway and
handed the barrel over to Jacques. His uniform had been torn on one
shoulder and blood was oozing from the wound, which although deep, was
not serious.
"Your life is charmed, Armande," exclaimed Lippen in admiration.
"I hope so," said Armande grimly. "Set up the gun."
No time was lost in this operation, and in less than two minutes the
machine-gun was ready for action. The man who had carried the tripod
had also brought the necessary ammunition.
"Train it on one spot," Lippen directed. "As soon as we get a hole
through the floor we'll send a few hand-grenades through it."
Careful aim was taken and a moment later the gun was spitting an almost
continuous stream of bullets into a space about a yard square on the
ceiling. The plaster began to fly and some candelabra came to the
floor with a crash. The noise of the machine-gun was almost
ear-splitting inside the château but the men were all delighted at the
promise of early results.
Jacques fed the long strips of bullets to the hungry gun, while all
except his helper stood around in different parts of the room, their
rifles held ready for instant use. All eyes were fixed upon the spot
on the ceiling.
Suddenly a ray of light shone through from above. The air was filled
with smoke and dust from the crumbling plaster.
[Illustration: The air was filled with smoke and dust from the
crumbling plaster.]
"Keep it up!" shouted Armande.
The bullets were spraying all around the edge of the hole which grew
rapidly larger. Several of the men opened fire with their rifles. The
machine-gun then ceased firing.
"You can see where the beams run now," said Jacques to the gunner.
"Loosen them up a little."
Once more the withering fire was continued and soon a yawning hole
appeared above the heads of the Frenchmen. A table came crashing
through; a chair followed close behind and a huge lamp next spun
through the air and smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor below.
It must not be supposed, however, that the Germans in the tower were
idle all this time. Bullets went through the opening in both
directions and already two of the Frenchmen had been killed; two more
were wounded. The fight was desperate.
All at once a hand-grenade, dropped from above, landed squarely in
front of the spot where Jacques was stationed. It was not four feet
distant from the young Frenchman. Almost without thinking he acted.
Springing forward he seized the deadly missile and hurled it at the
ever-spreading opening in the ceiling. He had not been a second too
soon. Just as the grenade was passing through the hole it exploded.