CHAPTER XVI Heinrich Hilker, Master Spy
Time sweeps along, and this gigantic contest which has engulfed the world spreads and grows constantly greater. The times in which we live are so momentous, and the incidents so numerous and so close at hand, that one is apt to lose grip of the general situation and to forget, in the vastness of our own responsibilities, that others than ourselves are concerned. Yet it were wise to dissever ourselves for a moment from our own particular and personal interest in this world-contest, and, standing aside as it were in some quiet niche—if one is actually discoverable when the world is aflame—to look out and survey the whole area of operations from that niche or point of vantage. We should see Britain and France, and now America too, locked closely with the enemy along the line of trenches from Nieuport to far-off Belfort on the Franco-Swiss frontier. In Italy we should catch a glimpse of King Victor's hosts, driven back from the Isonzo, in October, 1917, mourning the loss of a fertile province, and awaiting the onslaught of the Austrian hosts along the Trentino front and throughout the whole length of the Piave River.
In Salonika and adjacent parts there would appear British and French and Serbians and Greeks and Italians facing the Bulgarian cohorts. In Palestine, General Allenby's troops beyond Jericho and Jerusalem, in touch with the King of the Hadjiz, steadily driving the Turk before them. Farther east, in Mesopotamia, other British and British-Indian troops, sweeping steadily upward along the courses of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, leaving the Persian frontier behind them, with their right flank thrown out in the direction of the Caucasus. Behind these two last groups of British troops, in Egypt itself, would be seen teeming masses of troops ready to reinforce the Palestine and the Mesopotamian fronts, and prepared at any moment to subjugate the tribes in the western desert should they again venture to rise. But the Senussi have learnt their lesson. Elsewhere the Arabs, stirred up by German agents, and fed and paid by them, have likewise learnt that the British arm is a strong and a long one, and they too are glad to be at peace with us.
Go east across the ocean to East Africa, where German columns still trek through swampy and forest country, and where British troops, with Indians amongst them, pursue them relentlessly, having already captured practically the whole of this, the last of the German colonies. Then turn to Russia. Was there ever such a wretched country? Revolution having first deposed the Tsar, the Revolutionists have turned upon one another. Armies have disappeared, the German has invaded the Muscovite provinces without difficulty; for while the hand of brother was raised against the hand of brother there were none to oppose the invader. We have dealt already in some detail with this lamentable condition of affairs, and have shown how it reacted on the Western Front, but we have not so far dealt with its meaning in other directions.
Siberia borders China and runs down to the sea which washes the Japanese islands. Not only are Russian revolutionists swarming in these parts, but the many hundreds of thousands of Austrian prisoners and the many thousands of Germans captured by Russia in the early days of the war, when the Russian armies were triumphant, are at large, seizing arms, electing leaders, and at this very period threatening the security of the Chinese provinces across the Siberian border, and the interests of Japan in Manchuria and elsewhere.
Thus as, ensconced in our niche, we look out and survey this world-wide scene, another aspect of affairs is presented to us. China, like many of the South American provinces, indeed as in the case of nearly every nationality throughout the world other than the Central Empires of Europe, has declared war against the Kaiser and his allies, or has severed diplomatic relations with them, while it needs not to be added that the Japanese have long since joined Britain and her allies. But till this stage of the war neither China nor Japan has taken active military steps against the enemy, though the navy of Japan has already lent much assistance. The time has now arrived, however, when China must seriously consider the protection of her Siberian frontier, when Japan must likewise protect her interests on the coast washed by the Sea of Japan.
At this stage of the conflict one is unable to prophesy what will happen in this particular direction; yet, bearing in mind the course of this gigantic war, its constant spread, it seems only reasonable to expect that presently China and Japan will be brought actively into the fighting.
One last point in our survey. The Caucasus, captured in such magnificent manner by the Russians, has now been abandoned by the Revolutionists, and the Armenian people, released from the torture of Turkish rule, have again been thrown into the hands of that remorseless people. Thus, while the outbreak of revolution has dismembered Russia, and brought infinite misery upon the people, it has automatically, as it were, brought even greater misery upon the Armenians. Yet it has not found them irresolute or without strength to protect their homes. As we write, they are fighting the Turk, and may success follow their efforts!
Then let us turn to the active centre of the world-wide contest—to France. We have already set down the outline of the German offensive which commenced on 21st March, 1918, when Bill and Larry and Jim and Nobby and their comrades were engulfed. We can conveniently, then, follow this offensive to its end, and, advancing the story a stage or two, describe events that followed.
The Fifth British Army, opposed to the bulk of the German host, fell back by force of circumstances, fighting a brilliant rear-guard action, while the Third Army, just to the north of it, swung its right flank farther to the west to keep in touch with the left of the Fifth Army. At the same time French troops were rushed forward to reinforce the right flank of the Fifth Army, while American battalions were brigaded with British and French troops, so that, as the Fifth Army retired, its resistance was supported by others, and reinforcements accumulated.
The German drive was presently stopped definitely before Albert. In effect that drive had carried the enemy across the conquered battle-fields of the Somme, and the line now established was that held for so many weary months through the years 1914, 1915, and 1916.
Then followed a short lull and another German offensive in the neighbourhood of Armentières, which carried the enemy over Messines Hill, across the flats of French Flanders, beyond Bailleul, in a big bow which encompassed Kemmel Hill, the village of Locre, and many other villages from a point south of Ypres down to Festubert to the north-east of Bethune. Once more British and French and American reserves checked the rush, and the Allied line once again held up the enemy advance.
Another pause, more frantic efforts on the part of the enemy, whose policy it was to smash the French and British before American troops could arrive in sufficient numbers, and a third offensive was launched towards the Aisne River, which swept the defenders back right to the Marne and carved out another huge section of French country, till this third wave of advance reached the Marne River at a point thirty-four miles from Paris, encircling Reims to the east, and running from the Marne past Villers Cotterets—scene of British gallantry in 1914—to Noyon.
The position is one to consider for a moment. How had this trio of retreats affected the Allies, and what success had it brought to the Germans? In the case of the former it had caused losses, it had secured country, it had devastated fertile areas, and it had rendered homeless thousands of hapless French people. Moreover, it had brought the Germans within easier striking distance of Paris, on which at least three of their long-range guns had for some weeks now been casting shells. But it had not broken Britain and her allies. Those losses had already been made good, and now, instead of some three or four hundred thousand Americans standing shoulder to shoulder with Britain and France and Italy and Portugal and Belgium, there were a million Americans, with more swarming on ships to cross the Atlantic and come to our assistance.
What then of the Germans? What was in the first place the ultimate aim and object of that first offensive, which, successful enough, we admit, had yet caused them stupendous losses? What was the net result of these three successful attempts, all accompanied by losses, which, if published broadcast and fully known, might well stagger the people of Germany? Ground had been won, prisoners had been taken, but the effort was a failure—a ghastly failure—because its main object had been to smash and drive a wedge in between the British forces to the north and the French troops farther south—a position which would have been pressed to the fullest and which would have enabled the Kaiser to have thrown the whole of his forces upon the British and so overwhelm them.
That had not eventuated; that was the main object of the German High Command, and its failure spelt failure in all directions. Those three offensives had taken time—valuable days had slipped by, valuable weeks had gone, and during those weeks, running into some three months, America, stimulated by the danger, had made good the gaps in the fighting-line of the Allies, and had sent her troops to France in unprecedented manner.
What then of the future? There stood now in France a solid wall of British and French and American troops, with Italians, Portuguese, and Belgians, a wall growing stouter every day as American troops arrived. On the other side of the line there stood a German host, staggered in spite of itself by its losses, shaken by the stupendous task still before it, doubtful of the future, hesitating as to the course it should pursue.
As to the other theatres of war: in Italy another blow was given to the German Alliance, for the Austrians, having staked their all on an offensive, were hopelessly defeated, and Italy was advancing her line across the Piave. Thus July arrived, and with it the crisis of this world-wide conflict.
What of Bill and his friends? What, too, of Heinrich Hilker, the German spy whom they had seen whisked off in an aeroplane, obviously with the intention of landing behind the Allied line, there to mingle with the American soldiers?
"It's—it's——" spluttered Bill, as the machine took the air and went off. "I—we——"
"You shut up," Larry commanded, still gripping him by the arm and beginning to lead him away. "Sakes! D'you want every one of the Germans outside to hear you—to see that something's happened? Come over here! Stuff that into your mouth! Smoke, man! Now, Jim, sit down; we'll have a talk. Nobby, you come across here. Of course you don't understand. Well, sit down; now listen!"
"See here!" said Jim, tapping the huge Nobby on the knee as he sat in front of him, for Larry was now engaged in talking sternly to Bill. "This here is a real drama: our Bill—our young Bill, him as we've been along with these weeks now—was a chum of ours out west in America. There was Germans there, Nobby; you know as I'm speakin' of times when America wasn't at war with Germany. Them Germans was up to all sorts of stunts—dirty stunts; you get me?"
Nobby nodded. He opened a capacious mouth and popped in the tip of a tiny cigarette, looking almost as though he would swallow it.
"Yep!" he said, unconsciously mimicking Larry.
"Well now, there was a bar down there, and Bill's father was the man in charge of it. One of these here German skunks shot him because he was talkin' about the Kaiser. That man was the man dressed in American uniform that's just gone off aloft in that aeroplane. Say, Nobby, what d'you think a German skunk like that wants to get dressing up in American togs for? What d'you think?"
"Think!" Nobby's brow was wreathed with furrows, his eyes sank a trifle deeper into his head, and for the first time since they had known him he actually scowled. "Think! As if I wanted to think!" he said. "Ain't I been out 'ere these months and months? Ain't we had spies before?—nice, dear old gentlemen, who you'd think were real till you'd stripped them of their beards and some of their clothes. Haven't I known German officers dressed up as old Flemish women? Ain't they tried every game on?—even to dressin' in British uniforms!—and you get askin' me the sort o' question you'd put to a child! 'Ere, Jim, I've took a likin' to you, but if you fling things like that at me, you and I'll part—savvy?"
He blew out a puff of smoke directly into Jim's face, perhaps not very politely; but then on active service the refinements of civilization are not always observable—men think deeply and sometimes forget the niceties they practised at home.
"D'you get me?" asked Nobby, blowing out another cloud of smoke, and becoming quite American in his drawl, "or d'you really take me for a child?—me as 'as been on active service almost since the war begun. So young Bill's father was killed by that dirty scoundrel, eh?" he asked, "and that explains his excitement just now. Bill, boy," he said, holding out a hand and gripping Bill's arm with his huge fingers, "don't you take on, you'll get even with that chap one of these days, and I'll help you. Pull yerself together! Now let's talk! Of course you mean to escape out of this place—so do we. Of course, you want to get back to your folks as quick as possible, so as to give 'em a warning—well, so do we. You ain't the only one as thinks of such things or worries over the Americans. Well then, we're agreed. Then let's put our heads together and talk it over and make plans and so on."
Nobby sat down, blew his cheeks out, grimaced at Bill, winked at Larry, and jerked his head as much as if to invite Jim to be seated near him.
"Stand up, you English swine!" a German non-commissioned officer shouted at them, using the English language.
"English swine!" Nobby grunted, while his cheeks flushed. "Well, I don't know; suppose you've got to hold yerself in these days, because it don't do to quarrel with the Germans when you're a prisoner—but——" His big fist doubled, while with the other hand he dashed the sweat from his forehead.
As for Bill, he appeared to take no offence at the coarse command. Automatically, as it were, he stood up. All his thoughts were bent upon the scoundrel, Heinrich Hilker, whom he had seen leaving the place on that aeroplane, undoubtedly bound for the American lines. "American lines!" They were the Allied lines; for was not America one of the stanchest of the Allies? and had not he, Bill himself, the closest relationship and friendship for America? Whatever did Heinrich Hilker's presence bode for those friends of his? What danger did it mean? In any case, his presence as a spy could hardly signify anything else but trouble for the Allies, trouble which might lead to disaster.
"It must be stopped. We must get away," he said.
"Sure!" grunted Larry, "but you hold yer jaw, young Bill!" he added, sotto voce. "This German chap speaks English, don't you forget it. Perhaps he's been a waiter—most of 'em seem to have been that—and has made a small fortune out of your people or out of mine. That's why he hates us, perhaps; for see how he scowls at us. But escape, boy? Sure we will—eh, Jim?"
Jim merely glanced at them, but as he did so his eyes flashed an answer which there was no mistaking, and he nodded.
"March! No talking! I'll bayonet the man who speaks! Fall in, you dogs! Listen to me. We've broken the British line; we've separated the French and the English. We're marching to Paris. We shall soon have conquered both England and France, and then America shall feel the weight of our blows. Ha, America!"
The German swung round upon the diminutive Larry, and, stepping a pace nearer, stood over him as if he would trample upon him and crush him. Whereat Larry, no doubt unconsciously, felt for his cigar end, and, discovering it had gone, merely stood staring up at this giant, this bully.
"Say, mister!" he said in gentle tones, "you ain't got no call to try and skeere me—I ain't the American army. You won't find the American army and our boys so jolly small as I am. You wait! Marching on Paris, eh? Waal, you ain't there yet, I'll bet. As for whoppin' the British——waal! My! I've seen something of them fellows, and they'll take some whopping! And then you'll beat the Americans. Oh ho, you will! Waal, that too'll want a bit o' doin'."
The man scowled down at him, and, gripping his rifle, lifted it up above his head as if he would dash the butt against Larry's face. Then he thought better of the matter, lowered it, and, finally turning on his heel, marched away. Who knows? The very mildness of Larry's appearance, the gentleness of his voice, may have taken the man by surprise. Or was it that in that gentle and diminutive exterior he had seen something, perceived something hidden before, had grasped some idea, as it were, of the indomitable courage of this gallant American? Yes, it must have been that. Those who looked into Larry's eyes under similar circumstances saw a glimmer there of warning. This was the little man who in the mines was feared by evil-doers. Even as a prisoner he was not to be derided. In point of fact, that swinging butt had caused him to brace every muscle and every sinew. Unknown to the German, unsuspected by his comrades, he was on the point of springing at the man's throat, when luckily the bully turned abruptly.
"I'll know him next time," said Larry in the same gentle tone. "Things then may be a bit more even. Suppose now he's got a gun, and I too. Waal, boys, guess I'll do more than stand still and talk to him."
Nobby's big broad fingers were stretched out, and gripped the frail shoulders of the American. Nobby, broad-shouldered, powerfully built, and perhaps a little obtuse and dull of understanding, could yet realize what had passed in those last few moments. Long since this he had developed an enormous admiration for Larry and his other American comrades, for Bill, too, let us say, and none the less for his British comrades. Larry was such a queer fellow; so calm, so deliberate, so full of pluck and spirit, and yet so fragile in appearance.
"Say, Larry," he gulped, mimicking the American's drawl, "you do get me. Blest if I can understand a chap like you. Now if I was to take you by this same shoulder, I could shake yer as a dog does a rat, and blest if I don't think you look as though you'd fall to pieces. But when you gets a squint at me, I knows that, like the rat, you'd turn and get yer teeth into me, and then it'ud be a fight to the death. Blimey! I'm glad I ain't that German, because some day you'll meet him, that's certain, and then—— Well, as I said, I'm real sorry for 'im!"
"March!" They were hurried out of the barbed-wire entanglements, and presently joined another column of unfortunate prisoners. A few hours later they reached the railway station at Péronne, where they were driven into cattle trucks preparatory to the journey into Germany. That night the train pulled out of the station and lay in a siding. Far off, very far off indeed, they heard the sounds of strife. British guns, American guns, French guns, in the far distance, defending the Allied line against the German rush. Then they lost these sounds as the train which carried them steamed out on its journey.
When would they hear those reassuring sounds again? What chance had Bill and his friends of ever returning to their comrades? And, worst thought of all, what opportunity would they have to circumvent the plans of Heinrich Hilker, the villain who by this time, in all probability, had landed behind the American lines, and was no doubt already fraternizing with those whose destruction he plotted?