The German artillery was furtively shelling the Liége forts as a prelude to the general bombardment that was to take place as soon as the shades of night began to fall.
General von Emmich had brought up a force of 88,000 men against the 23,000 Belgian troops manning the Liége defences; but, owing to the difficulty of transporting his heavy guns, the German commander decided to open a furious cannonade with his light field artillery, and to follow up with an assault by means of dense masses of troops.
Soon the cannonade became general, the heaviest of the hostile fire being directed upon Forts d'Évegnée and de Fléron, while Fort de Barchon came in for a hot bombardment.
It was by no means a one-sided encounter. The Belgian infantry, lying snugly sheltered either in the trenches or in the bomb-proof galleries of the forts, were for the time being inactive. The Belgian gunners, however, worked their guns in the armoured cupolas with skill, bravery, and precision, and at the end of two hours' bombardment the forts were practically intact.
Kenneth and Rollo, in the galleries of Fort de Barchon, could feel the concussion of the revolving guns and the detonations of the exploding German shells, although they were, like the rest of the infantry, in ignorance of what was taking place. The inaction was far more nerve-racking than actual exposure with the chance of getting in a shot.
Suddenly above the roar of the artillery came a bugle-call, followed by excited shouts of "Aux armes!" Instantly there was a wild rush to man the parapets on the inner face of the glacis.
"Come along, old man!" exclaimed Kenneth. "We may as well have a look in."
Snatching up a rifle and making sure that the magazine was charged, he dashed out of the gallery, Rollo following hard on his heels.
A weird sight met their eyes. The blackness of the night was pierced by the dazzling rays of powerful searchlights and punctuated by the rapid flashes from the heavy ordnance. The thunder of the guns was ear-splitting, the crash of the exploding projectiles appalling, yet the attention of the two lads was directed towards the scene that lay before them.
All along the parapet, protected by sandbags, were the Belgian infantry, ready, with their rifles sighted to 800 yards, to open fire at the word of command. Beyond the turf of the glacis, where almost every blade of grass stood up under the sweeping rays of the searchlights as if made of gleaming silver, were dense masses of grey-coated, spike-helmeted Germans.