"I am not in the habit of listening to gossip," I said
stiffly--"especially about my Commanding Officer. But the Brigade Major
dropped me a pretty broad hint the other day, to the effect that your
independent attitude was causing alarm and despondency among the Brass
Hats; and--well, I think it's only fair to mention the fact to you."
But Eric was in no mood for sage counsel that day. He smelt battle; he
was "up in the cloods."
"Pack of old women!" he exclaimed impatiently. "Wait till they see what
we do in the show to-morrow, compared with the notebook wallahs!"
Then he glanced at my troubled face, and the old boyish smile came
back--the smile which had held me captive for thirty years or more. He
leaned over, and clapped me on the shoulder.
"Cheer up, Alan!" he said. "It was good of you to warn me; but I _must_
use my own judgment in this matter--and I take full responsibility for
doing so." He rose, and knocked out his pipe. "Now, I suppose I must
have an officers' meeting, and let old Kilbride read to them the
Brigadier's impression of how this picnic is to be conducted. They are
a very earnest band. They will take it all down--they'd take down the
multiplication table if you recited it to them--and read it to their
N.C.O.'s; and the N.C.O.'s will misquote it to the men; and to-morrow I
shall see my battalion, guide-book in hand, methodically advancing to
victory, chanting elegant extracts from Orders, to encourage themselves
and frighten the Germans! It's a mad war, this! Now, where is the
orderly sergeant?"
"Sit down a minute," I said, "and listen to me." I was imperilling the
foundations of an ancient friendship, but I could not leave matters like
this. Eric dropped impatiently into his chair.
"Well, what about it?" he asked.
"Eric, old man," I began, "I was at Loos--the only show which we have
put up in any way comparable with to-morrow's unpleasantness--and you
were not; so I am going to improve the occasion. The great ones above
us are quite rightly trying to fight this battle on the basis of the
lessons taught us by Loos--and they were pretty considerable lessons.
May I give you the experience of your own battalion?"
"Go ahead!" said Eric, resignedly filling his pipe again.
"We went off like a bull at a gate, and bundled the Boche out of his
front and second lines in a few hours. I am only giving you our own
experience, mind you. Other people weren't so well placed, and got
practically wiped out crossing No Man's Land. On the other hand, a
Division farther along on our right went slap through everything, up
Hill Seventy and down the other side. (They say a platoon of Camerons
penetrated right into Lens. Of course they never came out again.)
Anyhow, by noon on the first day we were cock-a-hoop enough, right up in
the air on perfectly open ground behind the Boche reserve line, without
the foggiest notion where Brigade Headquarters was, where the next unit
was--as a matter of fact, the people on our immediate left were farther
ahead still, while the people on our right hadn't got up, and never
did--where our artillery was, where our next meal was to come from, and
what we were going to do now! We did all we could, which wasn't much.
We tried to reverse the captured trenches, without tools. The Sappers
turned up, as Sappers invariably do, just when they were wanted most,
and performed marvels in the way of improvising defences; but we were
still in a pretty precarious position. For the next twenty-four hours
nothing in particular happened. Then the Boche, who had been regularly
on the run, rallied, and came stealing back. He found our victorious
line echeloned in the most ridiculous fashion all over the place,
without any semblance of co-ordination, full of gaps you could march a
battalion through. He made all the notes he wanted, called up his
reserves, and delivered an extremely well thought-out counter-attack.
Strung about as we were, he had us cold. We couldn't get up any
ammunition or bombs. Special one-way communication trenches _had_ been
dug for the purpose, but they, of course, were jammed with traffic going
the wrong way--stretcher-parties, prisoners, and details of every kind.
(Fifty thousand wounded went back to Bethune in the first forty-eight
hours.) We had nothing to hope for from the people farther back. Our
gunners were there all right, ready and willing; but they didn't know
where we were, and dare not fire for fear of hitting us. Whole
Divisions of reinforcements were trying to get through, but the roads
were packed with transport. In multiplying our artillery and machine
guns we had overlooked the fact that for every gun you put into the line
you add at least one limber or waggon to the general unwieldiness of the
Divisional Ammunition Column. The country for miles behind the line was
like Epsom Downs on Derby Day; nothing could get through at all. It was
forty-eight hours before a really adequate scheme of reinforcement could
be put into effect, and by that time we were practically back where we
started. Up to a point, Loos was a well-conceived and splendidly
executed operation; but after the first rush everything got out of gear.
We had been told our final objective was Brussels! With a little luck
and management we might have got Lille. As things turned out we got one
pit-village. Luckily we got a lesson too; and to-morrow's show is going
to be fought on that lesson. We are to advance to a fixed line and stay
there, so as to eliminate gaps; we are to work to a time-table, to
enable our gunners to fire with confidence; and we are to maintain
communication from front to rear by a very carefully prepared scheme of
one-way trenches and armoured telephone cables. Hence all the pow-wows
and the little notebooks, Eric!"
But Eric was not convinced. He was in his most childish mood.
"It won't work! It won't work!" he reiterated. "It sounds all right at
the pow-wows, and reads all right in the book of the words, but you
can't perform these chess-board antics of peace-time under actual war
conditions. There is only one way to win big battles, and that is by
initiative, resting on perfect _discipline_--by having each separate
unit disciplined and disciplined to such a pitch that its commander can
handle a thousand rifles like a single pocket-pistol. I am vain enough
to believe that my men are disciplined to that extent. Some of the
other units are not; and not all the pow-wows and guide-books in the
world will help them!"
He rose, and began to buckle on his equipment, whistling through his
teeth. I knew that sound, and I dropped the subject.
"Is the kick-off hour fixed?" I asked.
"Yes. About three hours after dawn to-morrow; Kilbride has the details.
We are going in from our present sector. I suppose the battalion are
all ready to move?"
"Yes; they are parading now. They are timed to pass through Albert
after dark, and take over from the Mid-Mudshires just before midnight."
"Good! They may as well know at once that they are going to attack, if
they haven't guessed it already. I shall say a word to them before they
move off. Are they all going together?"
"No. By companies, at twenty minutes interval."
"Well, let them parade together, anyhow. After I have spoken to them I
shall go on with the leading company, and take Kilbride with me. I want
you to stay here and clean up. Is another unit taking over this
billet?"
"Yes--the Mid-Mudshires; we are simply changing places with them. I am
expecting their advance-party at any moment."
"All right. When you have handed over, come along with the Orderly-room
staff and join me. Have you much left to do here?"