Fighting with French: A Tale of the New Army Read online

  CHAPTER X

  HOT WORK

  Kenneth had not omitted to report the signalling from the church tower.The light had not been seen from the trenches of his own battalion, andit was guessed that the receiver of the messages was at some other pointbehind the long British front. But on the first night of their returnto billets it occurred to Harry that the light might possibly be visiblefrom some post of equal height with the tower in which it shone, and hesuggested to Kenneth that they should go up into the belfry of thechurch in their village. In order to give no excuse for a Germanbombardment the colonel had refrained from making use of this as anobservation post, which some of his officers regarded as an excess ofscrupulousness. It would be necessary to get permission now beforeHarry's suggestion could be acted upon.

  Harry put the question to Captain Adams. He saw the colonel, who in viewof the fact that the Germans were certainly using a church tower a fewmiles away gave his consent. Finding, therefore, the sacristan, Harryand Kenneth got him to take them up the belfry at about the same hour asthey had seen the Germans' lamp.

  Furnished with Captain Adams' field-glasses, they scanned the country inturns. For a long time they had no reward, and they were indeed on thepoint of quitting the spot when Kenneth caught sight of a twinkle faraway to the south-east. It vanished and reappeared at irregularintervals, just as the light from the tower had done.

  "We are not getting the full rays here," said Kenneth, after Harry hadtaken a look. "But it is clear that they are signalling to someone inthis direction, more or less."

  "Let us go half way down the tower, and see if the light is visiblethere," suggested Harry.

  But they found that only at the foot of the belfry itself could theycatch sight of the twinkling light.

  "It's very cleverly arranged," Harry remarked. "They are not signallingto this village, that's clear. There's certainly no observer butourselves here, and no other place is high enough to catch the rays."

  "Except Obernai's house," said Kenneth, looking round over the village.Most of the roofs were considerably lower than the spot on which theystood. Only the attics of the Alsatian philanthropist's house roseabove that level. That large building in its extensive grounds wasabout sixty yards to their left. There was a light in one of the lowerrooms, where Captain Adams and several other officers were billeted: therest was dark.

  "It's not very likely, after that spy business, that any of Obernai'sservants is in German pay," Kenneth continued. "Still I'll tell thecaptain what we have seen."

  He made his report to Captain Adams next morning. Later in the day thecaptain said to him:

  "There's nothing in that matter, Amory. I asked Monsieur Obernai whetherhis servants were trustworthy, and he assured me that he had had themfor years, and could answer for them all. I didn't tell him why I hadmade the enquiry; it's best to keep these things as quiet as possible;we don't want to make people uneasy. I've no doubt the signals aredirected to some place farther away on our left, and the colonel issending word along the front, asking them to keep a look-out."

  Nothing more was heard of the signalling for a long time.

  When they returned to the trenches, their position was somewhat altered.The Rutlands were moved a little to the right, and Kennedy's platoonoccupied a portion of the trench which had formerly been held by anotherplatoon.

  Kenneth was making himself comfortable in a dug-out with Harry andGinger when he picked up, among the various articles left by its formeroccupants, a piece of ruled music paper dotted with notes.

  "A relic of your friend Stoneway, Ginger," he said with a laugh. "He'sthe only musician in the company."

  "Is he, by George!" cried Harry. "You forget I was in the school choir,old chap."

  "So you were! I remember how the mothers used to admire your prettylittle cherub face when you let off your songs on the platform. 'Isn'the sweet, mother?' I heard a girl say once. You remember how we rottedyou."

  "Yes, confound it! I was jolly glad when my voice broke, and I got outof all that. I haven't sung a note since; if I try, my voice is like anutmeg grater."

  "You've lost your cherubic mug too, old man. But look here; whistleover this tune; let's hear what it is."

  Harry took the paper, scanned it for a moment or two, then said:

  "It's no tune at all. The notes go up and down all anyhow."

  He whistled a few notes.

  "Oh, for any sake stop it!" implored Ginger. "It's Stoneway'sexercises, by the sound of it. Call that music! It's enough to make acat ill."

  "I'll give it back to Stoneway next time I see him," said Harry.

  "Tear it up," said Ginger. "If he hasn't got it, perhaps he can't----"

  A shout interrupted him.

  "Stand to! Here they come!"

  They seized their rifles and rushed out into the trench, Harry stuffingthe paper into his pocket. The men were posting themselves a yard aparton the banquette, looking excitedly through the loopholes. Across theopen ground in front the Germans were advancing in a serried mass. Itwas a surprise attack, not heralded, in the customary way, by abombardment. The testing moment had come for the Rutlands at last.

  They stood at their posts, tense, quiet with excitement. Ginger'sfeatures twitched; Harry's lips were parted. With their fingers at thetriggers they awaited breathlessly the order to fire. On came the densegrey lines. The Germans did not fire; with fixed bayonets they swarmedforward rapidly. They came to the wire entanglement; with clock-workprecision every man in the first rank plied his nippers, and then, inthe trench, Kennedy cried in a hoarse whisper:

  "Three rounds, rapid!"

  All along the line sounded the crackle of rifles. On the right amachine-gun rattled; on the left another. Three times the rifles spoke.Men were shouting, they knew not what. Other sounds mingled with thedin: yells, groans, guttural orders from the German officers; and at thewire entanglement lay a long swathe of fallen men.

  But behind them another multitude was dashing on. They leapt over theirstricken comrades, only to drop in their turn before the witheringvolley from their unseen enemy in the trench. Through the gaps pouredan unending torrent; the grey-clad men were drawing nearer to thetrench. The rifle-fire was now continuous, but it was of no avail torepel this close-packed horde. There was no longer question of takingcover. The Rutlands leapt up to meet the charge. They fired as fast asthey could, until their rifles were hot. In spite of their losses theGermans pressed on until sheer weight of numbers carried them to theedge of the trench.

  It is not for us to describe the scene of carnage there--the hideouswork of the bayonets, the cries of the wounded, the hoarse shouts ofdefenders and assailants. The Germans fell back. Kennedy's clear voiceshouted the order for volley-firing. And now came a fierce reply fromthe German ranks. Then they fell on their knees and crawled forwardagain. Again they were driven back. They began to retreat. And thenKennedy leapt on the parapet and gave the command to charge. The menresponded with alacrity. Up they scrambled, over the fallen men, anddashed forward with exultant shouts. There was a whizz and boomoverhead. The British artillery behind was coming into play. From thefront came deafening crashes; columns of earth and smoke rose into theair. The Rutlands lay on the ground until the guns had ceased fire;then dashed on. They plunged into the reek about the German trench;they sprang over the parapet and drove the Germans out; and a storm ofcheers acclaimed their victory.

  They were preparing to hold the ground they had won when word wasbrought that strong reinforcements were hurrying up to the Germans fromthe east. They had no reserve strong enough to hold the new line inface of a superior force. The colonel ordered them to evacuate thetrench, after doing as much damage as was possible in the short timeavailable.

  The men set to work with their own trenching tools and with thoseabandoned by the Germans to hack down the walls of the trench. Kennethcaught up a pick, and remembering the pond a
t the right of thecommunicating trench, he began to cut a hole through the three or fourfeet of intervening earth. Ginger joined him. In a few minutes thewater burst through in spate, flooding the trenches, and driving theEnglishmen out pell-mell.

  Laughing, singing, throwing jokes one to another, they returned to theirown trenches. They picked up swords, rifles, helmets, and other articlesof equipment that were scattered over the ground, threaded their wayamong the fallen men, stopping here and there to assist woundedcomrades. Meanwhile the British artillery was pounding the German linesto discourage a renewed attack, and the Red Cross men moved swiftly andsilently over the field.

  Kenneth had not seen Harry for some time, and was anxious about him.But the friends met at the edge of their trench. Each ran his eyesrapidly over the other; their set faces cleared when they recognisedthat neither was hurt.

  Settled down once more in their dug-out, the three men talked over theirexperiences.

  "I felt my blood run cold," said Harry, "but I hadn't time to be afraid.I feel worse now. Look at my hand shaking."

  Ginger, very pale, was mechanically cleaning his rifle. He flung itdown with a curse.

  "What have they done to me?" he cried. "What have they done to me? Ikilled an officer, a nice young chap as might have been your brother.What for? What about his mother? And all those poor chaps yonder: whycan't them as make wars let us alone? Men ain't made to kill each other.What's the good of it all? When the war's over, millions dead, millionscrippled, millions miserable. It didn't ought to be."

  "We're serving our country, Ginger," said Kenneth. "It's not a questionof just the present moment. We've got to think of the future. Whatwould life be worth to our people at home if the Germans had their way?You can get nothing good without paying the price, and it will be goodif we can teach the Germans and the world that force isn't everything,that people have a right to live their own lives without being bullied.For every man that dies, whether English or German, perhaps thousandsmay have a better time in days to come. That's worth fighting for, anddying for, if need be. We've all got our little part to play. It's nota thing you can argue about: you feel it. Look at what Sir Edward Greysaid: he'd rather cut the old country altogether than be obliged to giveup our good English ways and to put up with German tyranny. Don't youfeel like that too? Well, that's why we are fighting; we're fighting tocall our souls our own, and, please God, we'll win."