CHAPTER X
THE WRECKED LANDSHIP
"Once again the weary yet undaunted Wheatshires braced themselves for another rush. The period of respite over, they had to make an advance upon the third line of German trenches.
Already three of the Tanks, which had been temporarily sheltering in a large mine-crater, were labouring across the open stretch of ground separating the second and third lines. The guns, never silent since the early morning, were now giving vent to a veritable crescendo of hate.
Almost in the centre of the Wheatshires' objective a large brick building stood out clearly against the sky. It was apparently the only one that had escaped the searching attention of the British guns, and with the exception of the roof, the rafters of which were innocent of tiles, was practically intact. It was a two-storied building. The windows on the ground floor were strongly barricaded, while sand-bags had been piled up in front, forming an effective defence against all but the heavier guns.
While the eager infantry were being held in leash the Tanks sauntered onwards, two making for the wire entanglements, which already were badly cut about, while the third floundered straight for the building, although there were no signs that the place was being held by the enemy.
When about twenty yards from the house the Tank seemed to hesitate. It evidently was pondering whether to go straight through the obstruction or waddle past it, until half a dozen machine-guns, that had hitherto been silent, rattled a hail of bullets upon the monster's steel hide.
The Huns had withheld their fire, hoping to catch the British infantry in the open; but the menace of the Tank was too great for their nerves. Without gaining the slightest military advantage they opened out with their machine-guns, and thereby betrayed their presence.
With a rending crash the Tank charged the obstruction. Sand-bags flew right and left, like mud splashed from the wheel of a motor-car; bricks and rafters clattered pellmell as the mass of metal literally ate into the building.
The next instant a mine exploded almost under the Tank. Tons of earth were hurled into the air, mingled with sand-bags and blocks of concrete. When the clouds of dust and smoke had drifted away the Tank was lying on its side, with the upturned tractor bands still revolving like a derelict escalator.
With a loud yell, about fifty of the Wheatshires rushed forward to avenge the trapped mammoth. As they charged across the open bombs and machine-guns took heavy toll. To Setley it seemed like rushing through a hailstorm, with lead, nickel, and fragments of iron in place of frozen rain. Yet, carried away with the heat of combat, he was hardly conscious of the danger until a bursting shell lifted him off his feet and hurled him violently against a heap of displaced sand-bags.
For some seconds he lay still, hardly able to realize his surroundings. Then cautiously he raised his head and took stock of his position.
He was not alone. Lying on the ground close to him were a dozen or more of his comrades either dead or seriously wounded. Three or four others, seemingly unhurt, hugged the mud, in order to escape the tornado of machine-gun fire from the two intact windows of the barricaded building. Amongst these were Alderhame and Anderson. Of the rest of the platoon none was visible, and since the position still remained in the hands of the Huns it was evident that the rush had been swept away by hostile fire.
"What's to be done?" enquired Ralph.
"Dunno," replied Ginger. "You're senior man now, I guess, of what's left of us. Keep down, or they'll lob a bomb into the crowd of us."
"Crowd," thought Setley grimly. Five all told, capable of bearing arms. And he was in charge of the squad. The sense of his new responsibility stiffened his fibre.
"It's no use going back," he soliloquized. "Nor does it seem at all desirable to stick here, Let me see how the land lies."
Cautiously separating two sand-bags, Setley peered through the two-inch gap thus formed between them. Ten yards away and slightly to the right front were the German machine-gunners, their whole attention centred on the trench that had so lately been theirs. Between the wisps of smoke that drifted slowly from the still reeking crater Ralph saw that the Huns had only two machine-guns left intact, and of these only the muzzle and a few inches of the water-jacket were visible. The rest of the weapons were hidden by sand-bags.
"Can you throw a bomb fairly into that emplacement?" asked Ralph, addressing the redoubtable Ginger, who, despite a severe shaking, still retained half a dozen Mills bombs.
"You bet," replied Ginger. "Two afore they knows they're on the way to Kingdom Come."
"All right," continued Setley. "Alderhame, McTurk and I will follow up with the bayonet. We must wipe both crews out. Ready?"
Crouching ready to spring and hurl his deadly missiles the bomber removed the safety-pin. To Setley it seemed an interminable time before he threw one bomb. Four seconds? It seemed like forty before the missile burst with a loud report right in the centre of the over-attentive Huns.
Up sprang the four men, Ginger with another bomb and the rest with rifle and bayonet. Over the sand-bags they leapt, landing upon the bodies of the bombed gunners, scrambled over the intervening debris and made for the second machine-gun.
"Take that, you dirty skunks!" shouted Anderson, launching another bomb. The missile, missing its mark, exploded harmlessly beyond the sand-bag emplacement.
The Germans faced about, and with levelled revolvers defended themselves against the unexpected assailants.
With a rifle-shot Setley brought down one of the men—a big bloated sergeant—and plunged his bayonet into the second. As he did so, he was just conscious of a tingling sensation in his left shoulder. A revolver bullet, fired at practically point-blank range, had seared his flesh. McTurk accounted for the man who had fired that shot and then went down with a ghastly wound in his throat.
As he fell the dying Tommy grasped Setley by the ankles, bringing the lad prostrate upon the ground. Before he could regain his feet Ralph found himself at grips with a tall, slim, bearded Fritz, who in his frenzy attempted to batter in his antagonist's head with the butt of his revolver, notwithstanding that the weapon was still loaded in four chambers.
Guarding his head with his left hand, Setley recovered himself sufficiently to plant a powerful blow with his fist upon the point of the Hun's chin. The man recoiled, dropped his revolver, and raised his hands above his head. As he did so a fragment of shrapnel caught him and stretched him lifeless upon the floor.
Recovering his rifle and bayonet Ralph regained his feet, eager to throw himself again into the fray. But the struggle, as far as the machine-guns' crews were concerned, was over. Ginger Anderson, smothered in mud, was greedily quaffing the contents of a Hun's water-bottle, while Alderhame, leaning against the wall, was methodically wiping the point of his bayonet. Five Germans and the luckless McTurk lay across the captured weapon, while the sixth Hun, attempting to escape, had been shot down by Alderhame as he scrambled out of one of the windows facing the enemy lines.
"We've been an' gone and done it this time," declared Ginger, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "An' our chaps 'ave started shelling the place. Only shrapnel up to now; but if they starts throwin' in high explosives up we go in a sort of fiery chariot that ain't at all to my likin'."
"Can't we signal and let them know?" asked Alderhame.
The rattle of shrapnel fragments against the tottering walls gave him his answer. To attempt to show oneself for the purpose of semaphoring meant certain death.
"Look here; we'll make for the crater where the Tank is lying," said Setley. "We'll have to take our chances of getting strafed by the Huns. I'll lead the way!"
"One moment," exclaimed Alderhame, and still leaning against the brickwork he raised his rifle and fired. Before the echoes of the report had died away a heavy body crashed from the gaunt rafters overhead—that of a German observation officer.
"My bird," drawled the ex-actor. "I spotted him about to descend. See, he had his revolver ready. Thought he'd caught us napping. Now, I'm ready."
With their rifles slung across their backs the three Tommies cautiously crawled round the pile of sand-bags and gained the open air. A fragment of shrapnel glanced off Setley's steel helmet, another nicked a piece out of the heel of Alderhame's boot, but without further incident the trio dropped into the crater in which the Tank lay on its side.
The traction band was now motionless. There were no signs that life existed within that massive steel shell. The tail-wheels, which had been raised as the Tank approached the objective that she had failed to surmount, were buckled by the impact of a fragment of flying metal. The futurist colour-designs on her exposed side were scorched and blistered, while the armour-plate was pitted with honourable scars. At an angle of roughly sixty degrees one of her guns projected aimlessly.
"Which is the way in?" enquired Alderhame. "Suppose this is the entrance to the foyer and palm-court?"
He battered the metal door in the after end of the sponson with the butt end of his rifle. It was a risky thing to do, since the crew, if still alive, might think that the Huns were attempting to force their way in.
"Hear anything?" asked Setley.
"Excursions and alarums without," quoth the ex-actor. "Within the silence of the tomb. By Jove! What a reek of petrol!"
A howitzer shell exploding a couple of hundred yards from the crater in which the Tank lay warned the three Wheatshires that the Huns were still fumbling for their objective. With the crash of the detonation the whole fabric of the Tank trembled in spite of its massive bulk and weight.
"She's almost balanced," declared Ralph. "I believe a little power properly applied would set her on her feet again. Let's try."
The three Tommies, using the trunk of a stout sapling as a lever, sought to force the landship into its normal position, but in vain. Their united efforts fell just short of the required power necessary to overcome the difference in trim.
"See any signs of our boys?" enquired Setley.
George crawled up the incline until he could peer over the lip of the crater. The Wheatshires still held the captured trench, but further progress had been "held up" by hostile rifle and machine-gun fire. Overhead the shells from the distant British howitzers screamed incessantly as they pounded the position to which the Huns had fallen back.
A metallic clank made Setley turn his head The door of the Tank opened cautiously and the bronzed features of one of the crew appeared in view. There was a dazed look on the man's face, while his forehead was streaked with caked blood.
"Cheer-o, mate!" sung out the irrepressible Anderson. "Apple-cart upset? We've come to lend a 'and!"
The man began to cough, and scrambling through the narrow doorway collapsed, pointing towards the interior of the stranded monster before losing consciousness.
Resting their rifles against the side of the Tank, Setley and his companions squeezed through the door. Sliding over the obliquely inclined floor, Ralph found himself brought up by the angle formed by it and the curved wall. His steel helmet saved his head from a nasty blow, for the whole space seemed filled with machinery.
"It ain't 'arf dark," commented Ginger, "barging into" the breech-block of a quickfirer. "'Ow about a light? I've got a box of lucifers on me somewhere."
"Do you think you're chief stoker of a crematorium?" asked Alderhame. "The place reeks of petrol, man. A spark and there'll be a terrific explosion."
"Lucky you spoke, mate," rejoined Anderson. "Matches seem to get our family into trouble. My brother, down Enfield way, got a month for 'aving a match on 'im when he went to the munition factory. Blimey, wot's this?"
He stooped; his hands came in contact with a human body, one of five lying tightly packed in one corner of the confined space.
"Don't think they've snuffed it," he continued. "Wot's to be done with 'em, sergeant?"
Ralph, not altogether pleased at having brevet by his comrade, pondered over the situation. If the crew were not dead they would stand a better chance of recovering consciousness in the open air. On the other hand, they would then be exposed to shell-fire, and it was evident that the Germans were getting closer to their objective.
"We'll get them out," he decided. "They'll be fairly sheltered under the lee of the Tank. It's a risk, but that cannot be helped."
With considerable difficulty the three Wheatshires contrived to lift, carry, and drag the unconscious men from the interior of the landship, the task of getting them through the narrow doorway being magnified by the fact that the floor tilted to an enormous degree.
"Nip up and see what's doing," suggested Setley.
On all fours Anderson scaled the side of the crater. In a very short space of time he was back again with his eyes filled with dust thrown up by a howitzer-shell that exploded eighty yards away.
"There's another bloomin' Tank a-comin' this way," he announced.
Greeted by a direct but ineffectual fire from machine-guns and small-arms the oncoming Tank made straight for the mine-crater in which her consort had been trapped. Right upon the very lip of the cavity she stopped. Although her crew were not visible it was soon apparent that they were able to see what was going on, for a voice hailed:
"We'll try and tow you out. Can you take a wire rope?"
"They think we're the Tankers," said Alderhame. "Look here, I'll risk it."
Scrambling up the sloping side of the pit Alderhame, reckless of the shrapnel and rifle bullets, crawled to the rescuing Tank. As he did so two of the crew leapt down, carrying the end of a length of flexible steel wire fitted with a shackle.
"Carry on with t'other end, mate," said one, as he proceeded to fix the shackled end to a massive eyebolt on the underside of the blunt bows. "Think she'll move?"
"You'll hike her up if you pull in that direction," replied the ex-actor, indicating the place with his hand. "She's almost ready to tilt back on her traction-bands."
Without a scratch, although a bullet nicked his shoulder-strap and some fragments of shrapnel glinted off his helmet, Alderhame regained the temporary shelter of the crater, carrying with him the end of the wire rope.
This Setley and Alderhame succeeded in making fast to the overhead girders, although while engaged upon the task Ralph's cheek was cut open by the splay of a bullet that hit the metal-work within nine inches of his head.
"A bit warm up there," commented Ralph, as the two slid to the shelter of the hole.
With a wave of his arm Setley indicated that all was in readiness. Slowly the serviceable Tank went astern. The wire rope tautened, and with hardly any appreciable effort the disabled landship flopped over into her normal position.
"Where's your commanding officer?" shouted the lieutenant in charge of the towing Tank. "Who's the senior man?"
"The officer is unconscious, sir," replied Ralph.
"All right. Shift the hawser aft. Motors intact?"
"I cannot say, sir," answered Setley.
"Then you jolly well ought to," grumbled the lieutenant, who was still under the impression that the three Wheatshires were part of the Tank's crew. "If you can't start 'em up, slip out both clutches. Hurry up we can't stop here to be strafed all day."
Working desperately the three men shifted the wire rope to the required position, placed the crew of the Tank inside, and scrambled in to the interior of the immobile landship.
Setley had a good knowledge of motor-cars and motor-bikes, but the complicated machinery of the Tank was beyond him. Since he was not certain of the way to throw out the clutches, he did the next best thing: he opened the compression taps in the cylinders, so that the pistons were free to move up and down without having to push against a buffer of compressed air.
He was rather sceptical concerning the ability of the towing Tank to drag the crippled consort up the sloping side of the crater, but, to his delight, he found that he was mistaken. Choosing the easiest gradient, the Tank succeeded—not without considerable difficulty—in hauling her disabled sister out of the hole. The appearance of the latter was greeted by a round of cheering from the British infantry and a redoubled dose of "hate" from the infuriated Huns. Not until they were a mile behind their own lines, and sheltered from direct fire by a depression in the ground, did the two Tanks come to a standstill.
"Why, you are Wheatshires!" exclaimed the lieutenant, as Setley and his comrades emerged from the armoured box. "What are you doing here?"
"We got cut off, sir," replied Ralph, saluting. "We saw the Tank in the mine-crater, and we thought we could find cover there."
"And you gave valuable assistance," rejoined the Tank officer, pulling out a notebook. "Give me your names and regimental numbers. It will be a pleasure to me to submit a report upon your gallant conduct in the work of rescue. No, I don't think you'd better try to rejoin your regiment at present. It isn't healthy out in the open. Better wait till after dark."
"By Jove, Alderhame," exclaimed Ralph, after the officer had gone, "if ever I get a chance to serve in a Tank, I'm on!"
"And this bird, too," added Alderhame. "No more foot-slogging infantry for me if there's a chance of riding in an armoured moving fort. Wonder how we could work it?"