The Air Patrol: A Story of the North-west Frontier

by Herbert Strang

The garrison were greatly delighted that the end of the second day found the situation unaltered. Only five days of the critical week remained, and some of them already saw themselves at the end of their probation. Bob hinted that they were not yet out of the wood, but he was glad enough to see how high-spirited and confident they were. For his own part, he relaxed nothing of his care and vigilance. He was still on his guard against a night attack, and as an extra precaution, he sent two of the Sikhs to creep in the darkness along the track between the enemy's breastwork and his own, to give instant warning if they should see or hear any signs of movement.

But the peace of the night remained unbroken. During the early part of the next day, even, there was no sniping or skirmishing as before. Bob augured ill of this inactivity. He would have been more at ease if the enemy had pursued their ineffective tactics, and would indeed have welcomed a rush, which he felt himself able to repel. He could not but believe that they were gathering their strength, perhaps waiting for the support of more artillery, and he had an instinctive dread that the next assault would be a much more formidable affair.

Soon after noon his prescience was rudely justified. Suddenly, without any warning, two guns opened fire from the enemy's breastwork. Lawrence at once offered to set off in the aeroplane and repeat his work with the bombs; but Bob would not allow it, partly because of the scarcity of petrol and dynamite, partly from a fear that the enemy, now better prepared, would have detailed a certain number specially to aim at the aeroplane in flight. The airmen might not escape a second time with a slight flesh wound.

The fight resolved itself into a short artillery duel. The enemy's first shell flew high, striking the cliff above the cantilever gangway, and bespattering the sheds and the compounds with fragments of rock. Ganda Singh proved a better marksman. He planted a shell on the enemy's breastwork between the two guns; splinters of rock flew all around, and for a time there was no more firing. Presently, however, it was resumed, apparently from one gun only, and Bob hoped that the other had been put out of action. But in a few minutes both the weapons were at work, and the gunners' practice improved. Two or three shells struck the garrison's barricade, and though no breach was made, part of the parapet was blown away, and splintered rock flew in all directions, dealing severe wounds among the men behind. Ganda Singh worked his gun with imperturbable calm, and Gur Buksh from the compound sent a rain of bullets from the machine gun along the track. Bob saw, however, that he would soon be forced to withdraw the field gun for lack of ammunition. He had only captured twenty rounds with it, and after half these had been expended, with much damage to the enemy's breastwork, he decided that he must reserve the rest for use in the compound, when the enemy should attempt to force a passage round the bend.

Signalling therefore to Gur Buksh to keep up a hot fire, he ordered four of the men to run the field gun back to the mine. The rest he withdrew a few yards from the breastwork, posting them close against the cliff out of the direct course of the enemy's shells, which were now working havoc on his rough defences. But finding it impossible there to observe what the enemy were doing, he ordered two men to run back to the breastwork, lie down until the guns had fired, and then spring up and observe the enemy's movements through the gaps. They soon reported that skirmishers were again cautiously advancing along the track. Presently the bombardment redoubled in vigour, and immediately afterwards the scouts cried out that a large body of the enemy was charging. The guns ceased fire; at the short range the trajectory was so flat that the gunners could scarcely aim at the breastwork without hitting their own men.

"Now, boys!" cried Bob, unconsciously addressing them as if they were Tommies, "after me!"

He led them back to their former position. They spread out along the breastwork and opened fire. Bob saw a mass of two or three hundred Kalmucks streaming without any sort of order along the track, while the skirmishers who had occupied the rocks above were firing as fast as they could load.

"Take your time!" he cried. "There's no need to hurry."

The first volleys were nevertheless somewhat ragged. The nerves of the Pathans, unaccustomed to the shattering effect of high explosive shells bursting within a few yards of them, were shaken; only Ganda Singh and the three other Sikhs he had with him were calm as disciplined soldiers ought to be. It was their rifles that took toll of the advancing enemy. Several of these dropped; the rest came on yelling fiercely. Bob ordered his men to fire independently. The steadiness of the Sikhs had its effect on the Pathans, who rested their rifles in holes and crevices of the breastwork and took deliberate aim.

The head of the charging column was now within two hundred yards. In spite of increasing losses they still dashed on, and crowds of their countrymen were swarming over the breastwork behind them. Nearer and nearer they drew, but their ranks were thinning fast. When they were about a hundred yards from Bob's entrenchment their leaders wavered. At this many of the men halted, in irresolution; only a few of the bolder spirits, worked up to a pitch of frenzy, pressed on until but fifty yards separated them from their goal. These never returned.