Part 13

"Of course it is," said the lieutenant. "Since the first rush they have been practically fought to a standstill. Here it is two and a half months since the offensive began and where are they? Now in one week on the Donajetz we----"

"Yes, I know, Eberstein," his superior interrupted him. "You did wonders. But it is the Somme and not the Donajetz that interests us now." He removed his helmet and passed his hand wearily over a high semi-bald brow. "I wish I could be as certain as you. These Englanders do not know when they are beaten----" He stopped, then broke out again with the over-emphasis of a man wearied with long brooding over a problem. "The colonel was so positive last night! And he had just come from the General Staff. At dawn, he said, we might expect it. I can't make it out. All night that frightful bombardment, obviously preparation. Then this quiet! I feel something is coming." He shook his head. "We are much too near in this position."

"If they come, so much the better!" cried Eberstein. "We will annihilate them. But I do not for a moment believe----"

He was stopped by a heavy distant roar that commenced with the suddenness of a thunderclap and continued in one never-ending roll.

"There we are!" exclaimed von Waldhofer. He looked at his watch. It marked 7 o'clock precisely.[7]

A moment later the telephone bell rang in an excavated offshoot of the main dug-out. The orderly on duty there answered the call. "Message from the observation officer!" he announced in a loud voice. Eberstein picked up the receiver lying on the table in front of him.

"Yes?"

"Intense artillery fire all calibres upon entire sector. Whole front being heavily bombarded. Infantry attack expected momentarily."

Eberstein repeated the message, and ere he had finished the battery commander had sprung to the door of the dug-out, shouting his orders. He heard them megaphoned on by the sergeant-major above. Out there in the first rays of the sun the four squat idols had shaken aside their veils, lay surrounded by tensely waiting acolytes. The moment for their dread speech was at hand.

In the electric-lit dug-out the two officers sat silently listening to the distant storm. It rolled in one unnerving continuous thunder. Not their duty was it to reply. They were detailed for barrage upon a particular sector. But near at hand the heavy detonations of guns told off for counter-battery work followed one another ever more quickly. Near at hand, too, came the long whine and crash of the English counter-battery shells hurled in reply.

Again the bell rang and again the telephone orderly called out. "Speak to battalion commander,[8] please!"

This time von Waldhofer picked up the receiver himself.

"_Ja, ja!_ We are all ready!" he said. "Yes. It is coming this time. No. No further message. Oh, yes, we are in communication. No? Have you heard anything definite? No. I wonder if there's any truth in it? Good-bye." He put down the receiver and turned to Eberstein, stopping for a moment to listen to the roll of the hostile bombardment.

"That old story again![9] You remember we heard it before the first of July? Some wonderful invention the Englanders are supposed to have for annihilating us all. I wonder if there's anything in it?"

The lieutenant laughed mockingly.

"The Englanders invent anything? Not they! Besides, I don't believe in the possibility of any new invention that can revolutionise war. Just think! Here have all the nations of the world been fighting for two years, and what new inventions have we seen? None! There have been perfections and the rediscovery of old methods--that's all. What is the Zeppelin but a perfected Montgolfier? It is neither the first nor the only dirigible even! Poison gas and liquid fire--what are they but the stinkpots and Greek fire of the middle ages, rediscovered and brought up to date? There is nothing, can be nothing really new!"

Von Waldhofer shook his head.

"You are very positive in all your ideas, Eberstein. I don't know. The English do get hold of new things sometimes--it is true that generally they leave it to us to make use of them. But these rumours are so persistent! They are vague, I admit. Yet where there is so much smoke there is generally a fire. We are very close here. Just listen to that bombardment!"

For a moment or two both officers sat silent again, listening to the roll of awful menace. Then von Waldhofer shouted an order to the telephonist.

"Get through to the observation officer!"

Almost immediately the orderly called out:

"Speaking, Herr Hauptmann!"

Von Waldhofer picked up the receiver.

"What is happening?"

"The bombardment is continuing," came the reply. "Much damage is being done to the trenches. Some sectors are almost obliterated. My wire has already been cut twice."

"No infantry attack?"

"Not yet. This is evidently preparatory."

"Keep me informed," said von Waldhofer, and put down the receiver. He turned to Eberstein. "Well, we shall soon see."

"There will be nothing," replied the lieutenant with his contemptuous laugh. "I should like to bet on it. If there were a patent way of breaking down trench lines, it would not be the Englanders who invented it. It would be we Germans!----"

"Hush!" said von Waldhofer. "Listen!"

The roll of the hostile artillery ceased as though controlled by a single volition, remained silent for a few seconds and then, with one thunder-surge of sound, recommenced.

"The barrage has lifted!" cried von Waldhofer. He raised his voice to be heard by the Oberfeldwebel who waited megaphone in hand, his legs visible halfway down the dug-out steps. "All ready, sergeant-major?"

"All ready, Herr Hauptmann," replied the tranquil voice of the N.C.O.

The telephone bell rang again in the dug-out.

"Message from observation officer!" proclaimed the orderly.

Von Waldhofer snatched up the instrument.

"Yes?"

"_Barrage!_"

"Fire!" shouted von Waldhofer to the Oberfeldwebel.

Eberstein looked at his watch. The hour was 7.20.

As though the commanding officer had pressed an electric firing-button, the four heavy crashes of his guns followed, merging into each other, renewed in a never-ending chain of detonations as fast as the crews could load, relay and fire. A constant stream of 4.2" shells was rushing from the battery to fall in a narrow area at the predetermined range. But loud as were the violent concussions of the guns close at hand, they were but one element in the chaos of frenzied sound that had leaped from the whole countryside at the moment of their first report. Every German battery was firing at its maximum intensity. On the background of the dull continuance of the English guns danced the rapid reports of the quick-firers at full pressure of urgency, and surged ponderously the gruff double-roar of the howitzers, and the sharper, louder crash of the heavies, blended without a moment's interval into one unceasing peal. The rifle-fire from the trenches was inaudible, swallowed up.

Von Waldhofer sat with one telephone receiver pressed to his ear. Eberstein picked up the other. They heard the observation officer's voice, faintly.

"What?" shouted von Waldhofer into the instrument.

"Something is coming--something strange--I cannot see well, there is so much smoke--something--slow and crawling--a machine--firing--more--_schreckliche_----!" The voice ceased abruptly.

Von Waldhofer and his lieutenant looked at one another.

"The wire has gone!" cried Eberstein. He had to shout to be heard in the din.

"Let us hope it is only that," replied his chief. Both strove deliberately to ignore the fear in the forefront of their minds. Von Waldhofer shouted loudly into the telephone: "Kurt! Kurt! Are you there?"

There was no answer.

Outside the dug-out the battery was still firing furiously, would continue to do so until it received fresh orders. The general uproar had abated not at all, had if anything intensified. Into the welter of sound came a familiar, heart-stopping, hissing rush followed by a loud crash. Another and another and another swooped down on the heels of the first. An English 60 pr. battery was searching for their position. But the two officers, fascinated by the mysterious distant menace that was crawling into their world, did not hear and gave no thought to the shells. Once more von Waldhofer shouted into the telephone "Kurt! Kurt!" Still there came no answer. The eyes of the two men met.

"What can it be?" demanded Eberstein impatiently. "Is he dreaming?"

"Perhaps the wire has been cut close here," said his chief, resolute like a good soldier to allow no disturbing speculations in this battle crisis. He shouted an order to the Oberfeldwebel.

The telephone bell rang sharply.

"Order from the battalion commander," announced the telephonist.

Von Waldhofer was already listening.

"Yes?"

"_Feindliche Panzerkraftwagen[10] übersteigen die Schützengräben Punkt C 32 d 4.1. Sofort Feuer dagegen mit aller Kraft eröffnen!_" ("Enemy armoured motor-cars are crossing the trenches at point C 32 d 4.1. Open heaviest possible fire upon them immediately!")

The battery commander sprang to a little table, outspread with a large-scale map upon which lay protractor and dividers. A second or two of hasty calculation and he shouted his orders to the Oberfeldwebel.

"Cease fire! All guns 20 degrees more right! With percussion! Left half at 3150 metres! Right half at 3100 metres! Forty rounds battery fire!"

He heard them repeated in stentorian tones through the Oberfeldwebel's megaphone. The rapid detonations of the guns ceased. There was a pause, a few seconds only. Then the voice of the sergeant-major announced.

"All ready!"

"Fire!"

Again the fury of the guns burst forth.

"_Panzerkraftwagen!_" said Eberstein. "But surely armoured cars cannot cross wire entanglements and trenches! There is a mistake somewhere."

"There is no mistake that something has gone wrong and that we are without observation," returned von Waldhofer irritably, indisposed to abstract argument just then. The orderly had once more failed to elicit any response from the observation officer. "Take a couple of men and a new instrument, follow the wire along as far as possible, get into a good position for observing, and open up communication with the battery. No, wait a moment!" The telephone bell was ringing again.

"Message from battalion commander," said the orderly.

"Yes?" von Waldhofer spoke into the instrument. "I am firing on them now. No. I am without observation. Five minutes ago. Really? What are they? Not ordinary cars? Something quite new? Herr Gott, this is serious! Yes. Yes. I quite understand. I am not to retreat while I have ammunition. Good. You may rely on us. We shall stand to the last man. _Für Gott und Kaiser! Lebewohl!_" He put down the receiver and stood for a moment in deep thought, his hand pressed to his high bald brow. Then he shook himself alert. He turned to Eberstein. "Hurry!" he said irritably. "Everything is at stake!" The lieutenant sprang up the stairway and vanished.

Von Waldhofer put on his helmet and gave a last order to the telephonist before he followed his subaltern.

"Ring up Captain Pforzheim. Tell him to send up every available round as quickly as possible. Urgently required!"

Then he also ran up the narrow stairway into the bright morning light.

"Two telephonists, all necessary instruments, with me into flank observing station at once!" he shouted to the sergeant-major.

He went swiftly towards the battery. The last gun had just finished its allotted ten rounds. They lay now in their wide-spaced row, smoke upcurling from their muzzles. Their attendant crews stood, coatless, mopping the sweat on their brows. Far and near the thunderous uproar of the battle swelled; it seemed louder than ever now that he had come from the dug-out into the open air. The English batteries had lengthened their range. As he walked he glanced at Flers. It was whelmed in fumes. Explosion upon explosion leaped up among the huddled houses in the trees, fragments, timbers, earth-clods momentarily poised upon a dome of dark smoke. White shrapnel puffs sprang incessantly into existence above the roofs. He heard the hissing rush of an approaching shell without faltering in his pace, so preoccupied was he with the urgency of the moment. He saw the quick upspout of smoke; the heavy metallic crash came to his ears. He noted only that it was well behind the battery. His eyes were fixed on the officer with the guns.

"Oberleutnant Schwarz!" he called, stopping suddenly some twenty yards from the battery.

The long-coated, helmeted lieutenant stiffened as though galvanised, walked smartly up to him, saluted, and waited rigidly for his orders. Oberleutnant Schwarz, a young freckled-face fellow, set the pattern for discipline in that battery. The commander noted the punctilious attitude without his wonted inward smile. The occasion had found the man.

"Schwarz, communication with the forward officer is interrupted. Eberstein has gone to re-establish it if possible. I am going into the flank observing station. Orders will come from there. Put the Einjähriger into the telephone dug-out. The situation is critical. Something has gone wrong. A new kind of armoured car has broken through the trench-line. They must be stopped at all costs. The orders from the battalion commander are formal. The battery will not retire while it has ammunition. I have ordered up every available round. The battery will maintain its position, _whatever happens_, while it has a man and a shell. Is that clear?"

Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted in precise parade-ground fashion.

"Quite, Herr Hauptmann," he replied unemotionally.

"If I become a casualty the command devolves upon you," continued von Waldhofer. "Remember these armoured cars are your target, wherever they can be fired on. Use direct laying if you get the opportunity." A flight of shells burst in a succession of heavy crashes on the swelling ground to his right. He glanced at them. "Keep a couple of groundmen going over the wire to the flank observing station. Here, two of you!" he shouted suddenly to some mounted N.C.O.'s who at that moment trotted up to the battery with a string of ammunition limbers. Upon his sign one of them dismounted. The captain swung himself into the vacated saddle. Oberleutnant Schwarz saluted once more. Accompanied by the other N.C.O. the battery commander set off at a hard gallop, up the rising ground into the welter of dark smoke from the just-burst shells.

The flank observing station was a splinter-proof dug-out on a little knoll some 500 yards away to the left flank of the battery. It had been constructed in prevision of the unexpected. Von Waldhofer spurred towards it now at the top pace of his horse. Despite many shell-bursts, on the ground and in the air, he reached it safely. Leaping to earth, he threw the reins to his follower and sent both horses back. Then he dived into the dug-out.

Both telephonists were there awaiting him. The large-scale map was pinned out on a board, instruments upon it. The range-finder stood by the observation-slit. One of the orderlies was testing the telephone communication to the battery. Von Waldhofer pulled his glasses out of their case, pressed himself against the observation-slit and looked out.

Directly in front of him the bare ground with many minor undulations rose steadily to the shattered silhouette of the Bois de Foureaux on the skyline. But no longer was the view clear as when he last had gazed on it. Over all lay a haze which the early morning sun was powerless to penetrate. In the foreground and wide to right and left in the middle distance spurted and twinkled the primrose flashes of the guns, more rapidly multiplied than any eye could count. On the ridge the smoke lay thick, bellying in dark masses over the tree-stumps of the wood, poised on the horizon in tall, heavy-headed columns like elm trees in full foliage. In the air long bands of white shrapnel smoke reached out and clung to each other in a lazy drift, while among them the large dead-black bursts of heavy high-explosive shrapnel appeared suddenly, darted a head from the round nucleus and then unfolded themselves slowly and snakily earthward. Between him and the ridge the whole wide amphitheatre was being thickly sown with English shells. Near and far the smoke-columns shot incessantly into the air. Over the road from Flers to the Bois de Delville, which crossed his view at right angles, the white shrapnel puffs clustered in ever-renewed groups. Over all, English aeroplanes in scores flitted to and fro, daringly low yet apparently unchallenged. No longer did this arena appear untenanted. In every part there was movement and confusion of Lilliputian figures. Far away three tiny ammunition wagons raced towards a battery. Closer at hand, grey-clad infantry dashed in sections along the shell-swept road from Flers. They tugged low bomb-carts on long hand-ropes. He knew, subconsciously, that they were going to reinforce the great trench-line that stretched east and west from Martinpuich to Lesboeufs. Further afield other bands of grey midgets, scarcely visible, were rushing forward. Everywhere from the rim of battle-pressure grey figures were filtering in ragged streams down towards the lower ground. A long way off, on that rim, his glasses revealed a nodal point of confusion. He focussed on it. There were tiny grey figures grouped, in quick movement to and fro. Little smoke-dots were all round them. Then the confusion cleared. He saw darker figures, running forward, the twinkle of sun on a distant bayonet. For a moment he held them under view anxiously. Then with an impatient movement he swept his glasses round. Not there was the target that he sought.

Suddenly he arrested his sweep. To his left, much closer to him than he had been looking, a field battery topped a little rise, retiring at full gallop among a welter of shell-smoke. It passed down below his vision. His glasses remained steadily focussed on the rise over which it had come, fascinated by the abnormality, expectant of the cause.

It appeared. Slightly to the right of the course of the retreating battery, something emerged over the crest--something slow, ponderous, shapeless--drawing itself up. The silhouette of a gun projecting from its flank barred the sky. Swiftly he replaced his glasses by the range-finder. As he twisted the thumbscrews that brought the inverted vision into juxtaposition with the normal, he saw a group of grey soldiers surround the monster, hurl little puffs of smoke at it. He saw the gun slue, spit, saw soldiers who waved white rags tripping over those already fallen. The double visions met, he read the range. The thing drew itself up, turned slightly, creeping on its belly, snout in the air, like an uncouth saurian from the prehistoric slime. It was moving more quickly than he at first realised. In another instant he had taken the angle to the aiming post, plotted another, and was shouting orders to the telephonist.

"All guns 28·3 degrees left! Right half-section No. 1 gun 980 metres, No. 2 gun 960 metres! With percussion! one round! Fire!"

Through the range-finder he saw the burst of the two shells at the same moment that the detonations of the guns came to his ears. One fell full in the midst of the group of grey soldiery, whelmed them in black smoke. The other burst beyond. The thing paused not nor hurried. At an even pace it drew its low bulk along, dipped now for the descent.

"Right half-section 970 metres! Left half-section 960 metres! With percussion! Twenty rounds battery fire! Fire!"

Spout upon spout of black smoke heralded the rapid explosions of the guns. The monster was blotted out. Feeling like one engaged in a struggle with a creature born not in our time and space, of another world, von Waldhofer prayed for a direct hit. The smoke cleared. He looked for what should be its ripped and stationary bulk. It was not there. Only the grey bodies of the dead lay under the drifting fumes. The thing had passed onward, dipped into the hollow, out of sight.

He was suddenly aware that the enemy shell-fire, always heavy, had increased in intensity. The smoke-spouts shot up more numerously, grouped themselves more densely. Gradually they extended to new areas, abandoned those already covered. He realised in a flash that the monster was moving behind its special barrage, aeroplane directed from above. He shouted fresh orders, altering the range. Blindly he hurled his shells into the hollow behind the screen of smoke.

If only he had direct observation! He shouted to the telephonist.

"Ask if communication has been made with Leutnant Eberstein?"

The reply came: "Nothing has been heard of Leutnant Eberstein. Six men have just been killed in the battery."

Von Waldhofer's exclamation expressed annoyance rather than grief at the loss of his subordinate. He turned again to look through the observation slit. There was a blinding crash----

When he came to, he found himself gazing at the blue sky. The deep breath he drew half-choked him with the fumes of burnt explosive. Shaking in every limb he struggled to his feet. Before him lay his two orderlies, dead. The dug-out was wrecked and roofless. The telephone instrument was strewn in fragments on the floor. He himself was unwounded.

He listened, with a sudden anxiety, for the detonations of his guns. The general uproar had diminished not at all, but the familiar crashes were wanting in the din. How long had he lain there? A wild fear seized him. Scrambling out of the ruined dug-out he ran breathlessly towards the battery.

The enemy fire was as intense as ever. The air was filled with the whine and scream of arriving shells and the heavy crashes of their explosion. From somewhere behind came the rattle of rifles and machine-guns and the dull thud of bombs. Grey-clad men in swarms were running across the open ground athwart his path. He heard them shouting, saw officers gesticulating, realised as in a dream that they were running from the battle. But their fear touched him not. He was enveloped in concern for his beloved battery.

He arrived on the lip of the depression where it lay. In a surge of joy he saw the four guns lying in the familiar places, saw them strangely naked, their protective veils ripped and hurled aside, saw barely sufficient crews standing at their posts, saw the position gashed with shell-holes and littered with prone grey bodies, shattered limbers and dead horses. Even as he looked a salvo of shrapnel burst with deafening cracks above them, and white fleecy clouds floated over the battery. On the near flank, in the position of command, stood Oberleutnant Schwarz, rigid and precise as on the parade-ground.

Von Waldhofer ran down the slope towards him.

"Schwarz! Schwarz!" he called.

The Oberleutnant advanced to meet him, and, looking calmly at his chief as though his smoke-blackened face and torn clothing were in no way out of the normal, saluted with perfect gravity.

"What has been happening?"

"We have been under heavy fire, Herr Hauptmann. All the wires are cut in many places. The telephone dug-out has been blown in. We are absolutely without communications. The battery has fired whenever there was a chance of a target. Your orders have been obeyed. The battery has stood its ground. We have only three rounds per gun left. I am waiting now for an opportunity to fire."

Listening to the cool report of his subordinate, von Waldhofer recovered his soldierly poise.

"Excellent. You have done well, Schwarz. And the casualties?"

"I regret are heavy." He waved a gloved hand towards the bare dozen standing by the guns. "All that are left."