“It’s no good blinking the facts,” I told them. “I haven’t a thousand men, and what I have are at the end of their tether. If you put ’em in these trenches they’ll go to sleep on their feet. When can the French take over?”
I was told that it had been arranged for next morning, but that it had now been put off twenty-four hours. It was only a temporary measure, pending the arrival of British divisions from the north.
Archie looked grave. “The Boche is pushin’ up new troops in this sector. We got the news before I left squadron headquarters. It looks as if it would be a near thing, sir.”
“It won’t be a near thing. It’s an absolute black certainty. My fellows can’t carry on as they are another day. Great God, they’ve had a fortnight in hell! Find me more men or we buckle up at the next push.” My temper was coming very near its limits.
“We’ve raked the country with a small-tooth comb, sir,” said one of the staff officers. “And we’ve raised a scratch pack. Best part of two thousand. Good men, but most of them know nothing about infantry fighting. We’ve put them into platoons, and done our best to give them some kind of training. There’s one thing may cheer you. We’ve plenty of machine-guns. There’s a machine-gun school near by and we got all the men who were taking the course and all the plant.”
I don’t suppose there was ever such a force put into the field before. It was a wilder medley than Moussy’s camp-followers at First Ypres. There was every kind of detail in the shape of men returning from leave, representing most of the regiments in the army. There were the men from the machine-gun school. There were Corps troops—sappers and A.S.C., and a handful of Corps cavalry. Above all, there was a batch of American engineers, fathered by Blenkiron. I inspected them where they were drilling and liked the look of them. “Forty-eight hours,” I said to myself. “With luck we may just pull it off.”
Then I borrowed a bicycle and went back to the division. But before I left I had a word with Archie. “This is one big game of bluff, and it’s you fellows alone that enable us to play it. Tell your people that everything depends on them. They mustn’t stint the planes in this sector, for if the Boche once suspicions how little he’s got before him the game’s up. He’s not a fool and he knows that this is the short road to Amiens, but he imagines we’re holding it in strength. If we keep up the fiction for another two days the thing’s done. You say he’s pushing up troops?”
“Yes, and he’s sendin’ forward his tanks.”
“Well, that’ll take time. He’s slower now than a week ago and he’s got a deuce of a country to march over. There’s still an outside chance we may win through. You go home and tell the R.F.C. what I’ve told you.”
He nodded. “By the way, sir, Pienaar’s with the squadron. He would like to come up and see you.”