CHAPTER XV 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."
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.