CHAPTER XVI
ALDERHAME'S GOOD SHOT
"A barrage of shrapnel put up by the retreating enemy urged upon Setley the necessity for taking cover. There was now no need for further offensive work. The British infantry had occupied sufficient front for them to consolidate. To proceed further before the howitzers and heavy guns could be moved up to cover the advance was injudicious. It could be done. The Tommies, in their enthusiasm, would have pressed on miles ahead, but prudence on the part of the cool and calculating staff officers forbade such a step.
"All aboard," ordered Ralph, and with a double crew, the captured Hun colonel and the shell-shocked dispatch rider in addition, his landship ambled sedately to the rear, making light of the showers of shrapnel bullets that rattled ineffectually upon her metal hide.
Beyond the barrage she passed columns of fresh troops hurrying forward to hold the ground gained, the men cheering the shell-splayed Tank with the greatest enthusiasm. Other columns were overtaken, going in the opposite direction—immense droves of muddy, dejected, hungry Huns and a constant stream of British wounded, some lying motionless upon stretchers, others being supported by their less wounded comrades or else hobbling along unaided save for the assistance of a rifle used as a crutch. Even in their pain the gallant Tommies cheered the returning landship, and exchanged jests with those of the crew who in their exuberance had climbed upon her curved roof.
Guns, too, were going in both directions, the British heavies as fast as gangs of skilled men laid sections of railway lines—the work proceeding at a rate that would astonish even the most hustling Yankee. British horses, too, were making for the rear, dragging captured German artillery, floundering gallantly through the mud as if conscious of sharing in the glory of the day.
Ralph's task was not complete with the "housing" of his Tank under its canvas cover. His report had to be written up and sent in, he had to attend a supplementary tactical conference in order to be acquainted with the general scheme of operations for the morrow. Prisoners had to be interrogated, maps studied—in short, sheer hard mental work following upon a task of hard and arduous activity, until utterly fagged he was glad to snatch a few hours' rest before renewing a close acquaintance with the Huns.
He fell into a deep dreamless slumber, that even the ceaseless thunder of the guns, that hurled their terrible missiles upon the German positions, failed to disturb.
Just after midnight Setley was roused by a hand shaking his shoulder. Sitting up, yet sufficiently cautious to avoid bumping his head against the beams of the dug-out, he found Danvers by the side of the bundle of straw that formed his bed.
"A plane has been strafing us," announced his brother-officer. "'Fraid some of the plums dropped precious close to our buses. Come along and see if there's any damage."
Setley went out, shivering in the cold night air. It was a starless night. The lurid flash of the guns lighted the horizon and threw vague shadows across the crater-pitted ground that a few days previously had been the No Man's Land of the contending forces. It was now three miles to the rear of the advancing British line.
A crowd of officers and men wearing steel helmets and great-coats poured across the ground, all making towards the spot where the Tanks were "parked."
"All right, sir," Setley heard one of the sentries report to the senior major. "They did fall a bit close, sir, but not near enough to do any damage."
"Thank goodness!" ejaculated Ralph, but to satisfy himself he approached the landship under his command. Not even the canvas covering was injured, although two Tanks in the vicinity had had their wrappings torn off by the blast of the exploding bomb.
"The fellow evidently knows where the Tanks are," observed Danvers. "Deucedly funny how these Huns find out things behind our lines, and yet not a single enemy airman has ventured over in daylight for the last week. Eh, what's that?"
A Tommy, hurrying past, had shouted some information to a pal. Halting, he repeated the news to the subaltern, speaking with a grim relish.
"'E dropped two bombs, sir, smack into No. 9 Advance Cage, sir. Never seen such a blessed mess in all me life. I'll allow there are a couple o' hundred prisoners snuffed out. Anyway, they've got something to be thankful for. Their carcases won't be used for pigs' food."
"That knocks your information theory on the head," observed Ralph. "The airman evidently trusted to luck and it played a shabby trick on the prisoners."
"Not at all," said Danvers stoutly. "He was trying for the Tanks. The fact that a cage was within five hundred yards of them didn't trouble him at all. Cannon fodder, you see; once these Huns are prisoners they cease to count in the estimation of the German High Command. That's why it is not advisable to commit reprisals upon prisoners. Such a step wouldn't affect the Huns in the slightest. It's a safe card to bombard their 'open' towns by way of reprisals. That makes them squeal."
"Let's be getting back," suggested Ralph, stifling a yawn.
"Wish I could," rejoined his companion, consulting the luminous dial of his watch. "Unfortunately I'm down for duty at one-thirty."
"What's up, then?" enquired Setley.
"Over there," replied Danvers, pointing towards the front trenches. "They've had a squad from a Labour Battalion hard at it, digging a path for my bus. I was warned to be there at the time I mentioned. Wanted to hang on all the while, but there was that strafed official enquiry."
"I'll go with you," suggested Ralph.
"You're dog tired," objected his chum.
"Not at all," protested Setley. "I'll go. It'll give me an appetite for breakfast, don't you see. I heard that there was to be a variation from the almost everlasting bully beef. There's bacon, Danvers, actually bacon."
"Good!" exclaimed the subaltern. "Let's hope it won't be like the last I tasted. The stuff must have chummed up with the dead end of a poison gas shell. Ugh! It put me off entirely."
"Know the way?" asked Ralph.
"Rather," was the confident reply. "And I guess we won't be lonely. There's plenty of life along the path—and death, too," he added gravely. "We'll follow the track of the Tank."
The well-defined path flattened out by the tractors of Setley's Tank on its return journey afforded a sure guide, although the compressed mud was covered with two or three inches of water. Nevertheless the two officers proceeded with caution; there was no knowing whether a hostile shell or two had pitched after the landship's return, in which case there was a possibility of tumbling into five or six feet of icy-cold water that had drained into the recently formed crater.
"Fritz is still getting badly strafed." observed Danvers, for the guns were thundering unceasingly. The horizon facing the two subalterns was one series of lurid flashes as the British shells pounded the German lines. Haig was taking no unnecessary risks. He was not a leader to needlessly sacrifice his men in costly frontal attacks in close formation. That was a German method of military warfare that had not been accepted by other nations as an essential to success.
There was a certain mistiness in the air. The stars were obscured. The faint breeze hardly disturbed the huge clouds of orange-tinted smoke that stood out clearly against the darkness. Away in the distance a huge conflagration showed that the British shells had set fire to a German "dump," or else the Huns were up to their latest display of kultur—setting fire to a village before "voluntarily retiring to fresh positions."
Contrary to Danvers' expectations their journey was not overburdened with company. The reliefs had gone; the wounded had been carried off. A few "sanitary squads," searching in the darkness, were the only men they met during the first mile of the way.
An aeroplane droned overhead. Neither of the subalterns paid much heed to it. Aviators [unreadable text] night and day were as common as [unreadable text] in the early autumn. Ralph [unreadable text]ver, that it was flying low, its [unreadable text] silhouetted against the glare on the sky-line.
"Beastly cold job," remarked Danvers. "All[unreadable text] in summer, but on a night like this——"
"He's planing down," said Setley. "He's shut off his motor."
"So he is," agreed Ralph's companion. "Wonder why? I shouldn't think a fellow would make a landing here for choice."
They plodded on for another two hundred yards. Suddenly a guttural voice shouted, "Wer da?"
"Huns!" whispered Ralph. Both officers drew their revolvers.
"Are you in need of assistance?" asked Setley in German.
"No, but repairs will take two hours," was the reply. Then, after a pause, "How far am I from Douai?"
Setley thought fit to enlighten the Hun, who had evidently lost his bearings in addition to sustaining damage to his machine. By enquiring for Douai, where the Germans had an aviation ground, the Boche had given himself away.
"Quite an impossible distance, Herr Aviatiker," responded Ralph. "Meanwhile, you are our prisoner. Surrender instantly."
Even then the German failed to grasp the significance of the position.
"Surrender yourselves," he retorted, and placing a whistle to his lips he blew three short blasts. "Our patrols will be up at once, Englishmen," he added, "so do not give increasing trouble."
Another airman joined the first—the observer most likely. Dark forms were approaching. These gave the Huns mistaken confidence, for both began blazing away with their revolvers at Setley and his companion, who, dropping on one knee, promptly returned the compliment.
"Hullo!" bawled an unmistakably English voice. "What's the rumpus?"
"German airmen," shouted Ralph in reply.
"Then they're booked," rejoined the speaker.
The disconcerting nature of their blunder completely astounded the lost airmen. Without attempting to set fire to their machine they turned and bolted. Neither of the opposing parties had been hit in the exchange of pistol shots. Revolver firing at sixty yards on a misty night is not conducive to accurate aim, but with a rifle matters are placed on a different footing.
The foremost of the approaching squad let rip. Three flashes and three reports as one stabbed the darkness. One of the fugitives pitched forward on his face; the other stumbled for a dozen yards and then rolled sideways to the ground.
"Well done, Alderhame!" exclaimed Ralph.
"Dash my stars!" ejaculated the ex-actor. "I hardly expected to run across you—'upon the vasty fields of France.'"
"What are you doing here?" asked Setley.
"Ration party, sir," replied Sergeant Alderhame. "We were hurrying along because we were taking a cheese ration up to our chaps. The cheese was lively when we started, so we wanted to get the stuff up before it walked off. There's Ginger Anderson sitting on top of one lot."
The men were all from the Wheatshires. The supplies they were bringing up were conveyed in specially constructed wheelbarrows with broad flanges to enable them to traverse soft ground. Until a narrow gauge tramway was laid down this was the best means of getting rations up to the firing line.
"I'll have a look at our birds, sir," continued Alderhame. "I'm curious to know where they were winged."
"Be careful," cautioned Ralph. "They may be lying doggo."
"Trust me for that, sir," was the rejoinder, then telling his squad to temporarily abandon their highly scented cargo he ordered hem to extend and surround the place where the two airmen had fallen.
The pilot was stone dead, with a bullet-wound through the centre of his back. The observer, hit in the thigh and shoulder, had fainted through loss of blood. "Ripping shot that one of mine!" exclaimed Alderhame enthusiastically. "Jolly rummy, though, I can't help feeling like a sportsman on the moors and it's a human being I've brought down."
"But a bloomin' Boche," added Ginger the materialist. "One the less an' no cause to feed 'im."
By the aid of his electric torch Ralph examined the pockets of the dead pilot, who under his leather coat wore an Iron Cross. Papers found in his possession showed that the two men were crack Hun fliers and had set out purposely with the intention of bombing the Tanks. In addition the disconcerting information was forthcoming that the enemy had learnt the precise spot in which the landships were parked, and since no hostile machines had been over during daylight it was reasonable to conclude a spy had given the news.
"By Jupiter! I'd like to nip the fellow," remarked Danvers, as the two officers resumed their way. "Smart chap that, sergeant."
"One of my old chums in the Wheatshires," said Ralph. "A decent chap, only he has the bad habit of flinging Shakespeare at your head every half minute. I'm rather keen on getting him transferred to the Tank Section, but haven't had the chance to work it yet."
"A handy man behind a machine-gun, I should fancy. Hullo! That was a beauty."
A terrific burst of light, followed by half a dozen minor explosions, occasioned Danver's exclamation. Something, far behind the German lines, had "gone up." The British artillery were doing good work that night.
Floundering past gaping shell-holes, for as they approached the support trenches the craters were more numerous, the two officers arrived at the scene of the Tank's misadventure.
"Getting along famously, sir," announced Danvers' sergeant. "These labour chaps have been slogging in like greased lightning. Another quarter of an hour, sir, and we'll be ready to start."
A great change had taken place in the land topography since the morning. The pitfall lay exposed in all its nakedness—a wide yawning cavity of which three sides were as steep and smooth as a concrete-faced wall. The third had been attacked by the labour troops—picked navvies of magnificent physique and thoroughly skilled in the art of digging.
Earth had been cut away until a slope of thirty degrees formed an inclined plane from the normal surface to the floor of the pit. The finishing touches were being made, thick planks being put down to form a corduroy road up the newly made path.
Members of the Tank's crew had also been hard at work fitting new treads to parts of the tractor bands. Considering the fall the heavy mass had come off lightly, for the injury to the wheels was the only material damage.
Danvers surveyed his command with great satisfaction.
"I'm quite attached to the old bus," he confided to Ralph. "Of course they would have given me another if this one had been properly strafed, but it's simply great to get her into working order again."
"All ready, sir," reported the sergeant. The two officers entered the steel box. The motors were purring gently and rhythmically. Amid the cheers of the excavating squad the Tank moved slowly yet surely up the incline, and, gaining the shell-pitted ground, waddled sedately for her base.
"Now for a few hours' sleep," said Danvers.
Ralph stifled a yarn.
"Yes," he admitted, glancing at his wristwatch. "It's now ten minutes past three—we've done pretty well. At five we start our day's work, and from all accounts it's going to be a hot time."