During the three days which followed the one on which he was captured,
Bob's experiences were difficult to explain. He found himself being
moved farther and farther away from the English lines; but he knew
nothing of what was taking place, neither could he understand why he
was treated with such kindness and consideration.
He had expected to be immediately forwarded to some dirty German
prison, where he would suffer the same fate as many of his English
comrades. Instead of which, however, he might almost have been a guest
of honour.
For this reason he could not help coming to the conclusion that this
special treatment was for some purpose.
On the second day after the interview mentioned in the last chapter, he
was closely questioned by some German officers. They evidently
believed that he was possessed of information which would be valuable
to them, and for that reason did not treat him like an ordinary
prisoner.
Although he knew but little of what was going on in the German camp,
his experience there was of great interest; it gave him an insight into
the life of the German army which he had never hoped for. He realised
at once the different atmosphere which obtained there from that which
obtained in the English army.
He saw that the German discipline was more severe and more unbending;
that not the slightest feeling of friendship or comradeship could be
found between officers and men.
He saw too that the German private was scarcely regarded as a human
being, but as a pawn on a chessboard; the officer looked upon himself
as living in a different world from that of his men.
One day Bob saw that one of the soldiers failed to salute an officer
with sufficient promptness to please him, and immediately the officer
struck the man across the face with a whip.
Bob saw the great red mark rise on the man's face, where the officer
had struck him. He knew that the pain he suffered must be great, but
he made no sign; he simply bore the punishment as if he were without
feeling.
That same evening he was admitted into the circle of a number of the
officers. Bob mentioned the incident he had seen, and asked whether
this treatment was common.
"What would you?" replied the German. "The man did not salute quickly,
therefore he must be punished."
"And if he had cast a look of disrespect?" asked Bob.
The German shrugged his shoulders.
"We do not allow disrespect from men to their officers," was the reply.
"In time of war he would be shot like a dog."
"And in peace?" asked Bob.
"Ah--in peace, he would be treated in such a fashion that he would not
soon offend again."
It was at that time, too, that Bob realised the terrible disappointment
among the German troops at the progress of the war. It had been given
out during its early stages, that the German Army would be in Paris by
the end of August. At first their boasts seemed likely to be
fulfilled, but as the days went by--as August passed and September came
to an end, and then, not only did they not find themselves in Paris,
but were driven back mile by mile, until they were nearing their own
borders--they were not only dismayed, but astonished. It seemed
impossible to them that anything could stand before the German Army.
"It's you English," said one to him. "In 1870 we crushed the French
Army in six weeks, and we should have done the same now but for you."
"And the contemptible little army has given you a great deal of
trouble?" said Bob.
"That was one of the Kaiser's jokes, but we will pay you out for it."
Upon this they turned the conversation into such a channel that Bob was
not slow to see their purpose. They were trying to obtain information
from him, and, as may be imagined, he did not fall readily into their
trap; indeed, they soon began to regard him as a hopeless case.
He saw, too, that his position was becoming desperate. The German
officers were not cheerful and gay as our own were. Even in spite of
the most terrible fighting and awful suffering the English had kept
cheerful.
It was as though the Germans felt themselves on the losing side.
Almost hourly they were pressed back, while great masses of wounded
soldiers were being brought from the battle-lines and hurried off to
the hospitals.
"This does not seem like another Sedan," Bob heard one officer say to
another. "It is all those English; they fight like devils, and yet
they are as cool as men on parade. Instead of advancing, we are going
backward. Unless there is a change, we shall be driven out of the
country."
"They shall pay for it later, never fear," said another. "When we have
once beaten them, France will be ours, and England crushed like an
empty eggshell."
"When we have beaten them," was the doubtful response.
What Bob suffered it is impossible to say; how he longed to be back
among his comrades in the fighting-line, I cannot put into words.
He knew by the questions which were constantly asked him that they
thought he would be in a position to render them invaluable service;
that was why he had special treatment.
At the end of three days, however, he knew that this special treatment
was over, and by the looks that were cast towards him, he felt sure
that the doom he expected would be his. He would be packed off to a
German prison.
"What is to become of me?" he asked one of the officers, who had
constantly been plying him with questions.
"You'll know to-morrow morning," was the curt reply.
As may be imagined, Bob had, during the whole time, sought eagerly for
a means of escape; but this seemed impossible. All around him were
vast hordes of men, and he knew that any movement towards liberty on
his part would mean instant death. Yet he determined to try, and hour
by hour had formulated his plans.
Up to the present no alteration had taken place in his treatment. It
seemed to him madness that the Germans should spare two men
continuously to guard him and watch him; yet they did.
Then, inadvertently, he learned that the august personage with whom he
had had such a long conversation on the night of his capture had given
special orders concerning him, as it was his intention to speak with
him again.
In view, however, of the significant words of the officer who had told
him that some change would take place on the following morning, he
imagined that this determination had been abandoned.
Bob's opportunity of escape seemed to him afterwards almost like a
miracle. One night, as chance would have it, only one of the guards
was on duty, and he determined to take advantage of the circumstance.
If he were to escape, a bold, almost mad, endeavour must be made.
Failure would mean death; but, with all the enthusiasm of youth, he
decided to risk it.
The guard was a man about his own height and build, and, under ordinary
circumstances, would be his match in physical strength.
Of course a hand-to-hand struggle was out of the question; a cry from
the German soldier would mean arousing hundreds of others, and then
Bob's fate would be sealed. But if----and his brain almost reeled at
the madness of the plan which had been so suddenly born in his mind.
Seizing his opportunity, and taking full advantage of the fact that he
had been allowed the use of his limbs, he suddenly struck his guard a
heavy blow, which, for the time, stunned him; then, seizing the man's
rifle, he struck him a blow on the head which left him senseless.
Quick as lightning, he pulled the man's clothes from off his prostrate
body, and a minute later he was himself, to all appearances, a German
soldier.
As he reflected afterwards, the thing happened so quickly and under
such strange circumstances, that it seemed to him impossible.
To overpower a German guard in the midst of thousands of German
soldiers, and then to appear among the others in a German uniform,
seemed absolutely impossible; yet he did it.
It was for him, now, to find his way through the German lines without
revealing his identity. One thing was in his favour--that was a fact
which he had kept rigorously secret--he spoke German almost like a
German.
I will not weary the reader with Bob's experiences during the next few
hours. In the letter he wrote to me about them, he gave but few
details. Nevertheless, he told me enough to make me realise that for
hours he was within an ace of detection and death.
All around him shot and shell were falling, for although night had
come, a continuous bombardment was taking place. Each army was sending
forth its missiles of death; the guns of each were pounding to the
other's trenches.
Before daylight came Bob had, in the darkness, passed the advance lines
of the enemy, and was making his way towards his own people. But even
yet his danger was not at an end; indeed, he was in more immediate
peril than when he was a prisoner in the German camp. Clad as he was
in the enemies' uniform, he knew that at first sight he would be shot
down. Still he must take his risk and press forward.
Moreover, he knew that anything like hesitation must end in disaster.
Daylight had just begun to appear when he heard the murmur of voices.
He felt sure he was some distance from the main line of the English,
and yet he thought he heard some English voices. "It will be some men
on outpost duty," he thought; "at any rate, I will have a try." Hiding
behind some bushes, he listened intently. "Yes," he thought, "they are
our own chaps."
"Who goes there?"
Bob knew it was a question which must be answered promptly.
"I say, you fellows," he cried, "wait a minute."
A dozen rifles were pointed towards him. Evidently the men who held
the rifles waited for the word of command to fire.
"It's some German spy," he heard some one say.
Bob threw up his arms as a sign of surrender, and immediately he was
seized. A few minutes later he told his story, which at first was not
believed; but when he told who he was, and asked to be taken
immediately to either General Fortescue or Colonel Sapsworth, the
sergeant in command of the little company of Englishmen opened his eyes
wide with astonishment.
"By George, he talks like an Englishman, anyhow!" said the puzzled
sergeant; "and I did hear some talk three days ago about a Lieutenant
Nancarrow giving the alarm to his own soldiers at the risk of his own
life; anyhow, we've got him."
Hours later Bob found himself in the presence of his own superior
officers.
"Talk about miracles," said Colonel Sapsworth; "but you're about the
biggest miracle of this war. Nancarrow, we had all mourned for you as
dead, although your name was sent to England as missing. I never knew
the General so cut up as when he was told what had taken place; he
seemed to think it mean of Providence to allow you to be taken when you
had acted in the way you did. By gad, man, do you mean to tell me that
you escaped from those infernal Germans?"
"You see, I robbed the poor beggar of his uniform," was Bob's answer,
"and I knew their lingo; I had a near shave several times, but it was
bluff that did it."
"You're a plucky young beggar, anyhow," and the Colonel laughed almost
merrily as he spoke. "Yes, yes, my boy, you'll get mentioned in
despatches. It was a great thing you did, and Sir John French will
hear of it."
As may be imagined, Bob was questioned closely concerning his
experiences in the German lines, and when he told of his conversation
with the Kaiser, they listened to him with opened mouths.
"Good, good!" they cried again and again, as he repeated what he had
said to the Kaiser. "By George, Nancarrow, if you could get back to
England now, you would be interviewed by all the newspapers in the
country. You would be a God-send to the English Press."
But times were too stirring for more than a passing notice to be taken
of the young Cornishman's experiences.
A little later he was back at his post of duty again, little realising
that although a man might be fortune's favourite on one day, the next
might bring him dire disaster.
The next day it was evident, as appeared in Sir John French's
despatches, which we read in England later, that the German Army were
determined to throw all their strength into one crushing blow, for a
phase of the battle began, which was continued night and day, in that
part of the British Army where Bob was situated, with scarcely any
intermission.
During these four days and nights, Bob, with thousands of others, had
scarcely time to eat or sleep.
Weary hour after weary hour our men lay in the trenches, amidst pain
which amounted to torture, incessantly firing, or again, at the word of
command, ready to rush forward to meet the onset of the enemy.
Hundreds upon hundreds were killed; thousands upon thousands were
wounded. Never did Bob realise, as he realised then, the meaning of
the Prime Minister's words that "war was hell let loose." On his right
hand and on his left his comrades fell--some never to speak again;
others groaning in agony; others still laughing amidst their pain.
Strange as it may seem, when the carnage was at its most awful stage,
and when the heavens were rent with the booming of guns and the
clashing of arms, Bob could not help picturing this same France, as he
had passed through it years before.
Then it was fair and smiling and peaceful; now it was the scene of
untold tragedies, such as he had never dreamt of before. Around him
was the smoke of burning villages. Homesteads, which a few months
before had been peaceful and prosperous, were now laid waste by the
grim horrors of war. Mile after mile of fair country-side were made a
vast cemetery. Every man fought his duel to the death. These men had
no personal enmity against each other, and yet they rejoiced to see the
enemy fall.
As Bob thought of it all, even in the midst of the fever of war which
possessed him, he became almost mad. Those Germans in whose camp he
had been, were, many of them, brave, patient, kindly men. They had
their homes and their loved ones just as the English and the French
had. They had left behind them sweethearts, wives, children, just as
our men had; but because they were overruled by a vast military system,
which had at its head the German Emperor, all this had taken place.
To this man, his own ambition was everything. What cared he for the
lives of a million men, as long as his power could be extended and his
ambitions, satisfied?
France was in the way of his advancement, therefore France must be
crushed.
England was his great rival, and therefore England must be swept aside.
Germany must be a World Power, and nothing must stop her in fulfilling
her destiny. To this end he had made the country a great war-camp, and
for this the gospel of war had been preached. Mercy--love--brotherly
kindness--peace, must all be sacrificed for the overwhelming ambitions
and vain-glory of this man and his followers; this caused hell to be
let loose upon earth.
That was why he and millions of others were fighting; that was why tens
of thousands of the flower of young English manhood; as well as the
best life of France, were being crushed in the dust. That was why
homes were being made desolate--hearts broken.
Still the carnage went on; still fire and flame; still the boom of
cannon; the groanings of dying men. Fight, fight; slay, slay, and no
quarter.
Towards the evening of the fourth day after Bob's escape from the
German lines, came a cry which had become almost familiar to him, and
he found himself with his company making a bayonet charge on the enemy.
To a distant spectator, not knowing the meaning of the war, this charge
must have seemed like some mad Bedlam let loose. Strong men lunging,
stabbing, fighting, with only death in their hearts--and this was war!
All around was the crack of rifle shots, the boom of cannon, and still
they pressed on, fighting their way inch by inch.
Suddenly Bob found himself bereft of his sword; his revolver was in his
left hand, but in the mad struggle his sword had been stricken from the
right.
Words of command could scarcely be heard amidst the din and clamour; on
his right hand a soldier fell with the bayonet in his chest of a
German, who at the same time fell from a wound which the Englishman had
inflicted on him. Scarcely had the Englishman fallen, when he saw the
bayonets of the enemy directed towards himself.
Seizing the Englishman's rifle--the bayonet fixed at the end of which
was red with blood--he sought to defend himself. Directing his
attention to the man who rushed upon him, he fought with all the
strength he possessed: "I have mastered him," was the thought which
came into his mind, as the German staggered back, but before he could
make his victory sure, a blow, whence he did not know, struck him on
the collar-bone; a hot, burning pain passed through his side, as he
felt himself falling; a moment later there was a stampede over his body.
"It's all over with me," he said, and then he felt himself becoming
unconscious.
In a hazy kind of fashion he thought our men were pressing forward, and
that the Germans were falling back from them; but this was an
impression rather than a thought. Presently it seemed to him that
silence reigned. He felt very weary, but suffered no pain. He thought
he heard the sound of distant guns; but they were no longer guns, they
were the waves which beat upon the great rocks around Gurnard's Head,
while he and Nancy sat in the shade, under the cliff, while he told her
the story of his love. He was repeating to her the resolves which had
been so suddenly born in his mind.
"Yes, Nancy," he said aloud, "I've found my mission; I am going in for
war--war against war; that is the noblest work a man can do."
It was all very unreal; all far, far away. "The night is falling fast;
how can Nancy and I get home?" he reflected. Then he heard some one
singing close by him; it was the song popular amongst the soldiers--a
song in which he himself had joined a hundred times:
"It's a long way to Tipperary,
It's a long, long way to go."
He turned his head, and saw a soldier at his side. He too, had been
stricken down in the battle; he, too was unconscious of what he was
doing.
"Yes, it's a long, long way to Tipperary," he murmured, and that was
all, . . . a great darkness fell upon him.