The Battle in the Mud
It was as unlike a charge as could possibly be imagined. With rifles at the slope, the New Zealanders sauntered forward towards their objective, keeping almost at the heels of the barrage, save here and there where a "pill-box", presumably deserted, was found to be chock-a-block with Huns. Almost before he was aware of it, Malcolm found himself confronted by a practically intact concrete block-house, which was so near the New Zealand outposts that it had escaped damage during the bombardment. Looming ominously through the misty, drizzling dawn, the pill-box might have accounted for scores of gallant New Zealanders, for it was crammed with Huns, and well provided with machine-guns. Yet not a shot came from that isolated fortress. Unaware that it was tenanted, a dozen men of C Company strolled past the grinning loopholes.
"Kamerad! Kamerad!"
The words, just audible above the clamour, caused several Diggers to stop.
"By Jove," exclaimed Fortescue, "the place is full of Boches! Out 'em, boys!"
With levelled bayonets Malcolm, Selwyn, and half a dozen riflemen advanced towards the door in the rear of the pill-box, while M'Turk and M'Kane, each brandishing a bomb, ran close to the wall immediately by the side of the machine-gun aperture. Here, secure from bullets from the inside, they had the garrison at their mercy should the Huns show any signs of treachery.
"Out you come, Fritz!" shouted Fortescue. "We won't hurt you."
Furtively a German poked his steel helmeted head through the doorway. With arms upheld he stumbled out, terror written on his face. Behind him, after a brief interval, came another; then more, close at each other's heels, until fifty-three Huns, without firing a shot, were prisoners in the hands of the New Zealanders.
"Who'll take them back?" asked Fortescue.
No one seemed at all anxious for the job. Every man whom the Sergeant looked at enquiringly shook his head. With the prospect of a scrap ahead, none would accept the task of escorting fifty demoralized Huns.