A Hero of Liége: A Story of the Great War

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER XIX--'A LONG, LONG WAY----'

  No sooner had the fugitives entered the fort than Kenneth collapsed. Thetension of the last two days, the terrific strain of controlling thearmoured car, and the concussion of the final shock, had been too heavya tax upon his nervous system. Pariset was in little better condition.Granger, an older man, of settled constitution, was less affected thanthe others, and he was able to assist the surgeon of the fort in tendingupon his friends.

  Much to their surprise, the interior of the fort was quiet and peaceful.The German batteries had ceased fire, the fort guns were silent.Lieutenant Montoisy explained that during the past few days there hadbeen no attack. The enemy's infantry, shattered by fire from thetrenches in their frontal assaults, had retired. The bombardment hadbeen feeble.

  "We can hold out for weeks," said the lieutenant.

  "Don't buoy yourself with false hopes," said Granger. "The Germans areonly waiting until they bring up their great guns. There are severalmonsters of 42 centimetre calibre on their way. They will bring themthrough Liege; as soon as they can place them the fort will be shiveredto atoms."

  "Bah! Our cupolas will stand anything. Besides, no one has ever heardof these great guns. They are probably a myth, invented to frightenus."

  "These gentlemen know better than that," Granger returned. "You hadbetter tell what you saw, Amory."

  Kenneth related the incident near Erkelenz.

  "Unluckily we only destroyed the parts of one gun," he concluded. "Theblock on the road had evidently caused them to send on the others byanother route."

  Lieutenant Montoisy was still sceptical of the effect these guns couldproduce. He led the three men round the fort. It was triangular inshape, with guns in disappearing turrets at each corner. In the centrewas a steel turret armed with two 6-inch howitzers, enclosed in a squarewith four similar turrets carrying 5-inch quick-firing guns. The turretswere embedded in a solid block of concrete, and here and there weremachine guns and searchlight apparatus. The heaviest guns were mountedon a steel cupola, capable of being raised and lowered. Impressed by theimmense strength of the defences, the Englishmen began to shareMontoisy's confidence in their power to withstand bombardment even bythe heaviest artillery.

  "Why aren't our men in the trenches?" asked Pariset.

  "They were ordered to withdraw several days ago," replied Montoisy. "Yousee, we had only 40,000 men to defend a circuit of thirty-threemiles--impossible against a quarter of a million Germans. But we havetaught them a lesson. We have cut whole regiments to pieces. Ourgallant Garde Civique made a bayonet charge the other day that sent themhelter-skelter just beyond Boncelles yonder. No one will ever againregard the bosches as invincible."

  Bit by bit he drew from Pariset the story of his adventures, and when itspread among the garrison, the two young men found themselves regardedas heroes by all, from the commandant downwards.

  Their future movements were discussed. It was decided that they shouldremain in the fort for a few days until they had recovered theirstrength, and then make their way westward if possible to the Belgianlines. Granger determined to leave at once. Expert in disguises, hetransformed himself into a Belgian peasant, and waited for nightfall tosteal away towards Liege.

  "We may meet again; we may not," he said, as he shook hands. "I hope wemay. It will be a long war. We shall win. And if we three lose ourlives--well, who was it said that death is the portal to the lifeElysian? But I won't moralise. We'll stick it out. Good-bye!" andsmiling serenely he went out into the night.

  Pariset was eager to know what was happening in other parts of the vastbattlefield, and in particular whether anything had been heard ofGeneral Leman. Montoisy explained that, the telephone communicationshaving recently been smashed, the fort was cut off as completely as ifit were a desolate island in the midst of an ocean.

  Next evening, about six o'clock, two shrapnel shells burst harmlesslyover the fort. A few minutes later an acute buzzing was heard in theair, then there was a thunderous roar, the whole place trembled, and theouter slope of the fort was smothered in a cloud of stones, dust, andblack smoke. Montoisy looked grave, and hurried to the arcade underwhich the commandant was sheltering. As he stood talking with him, ashell which, judging from its size, weighed nearly a ton burst near by,bringing down a shower of shattered masonry, and wounding thecommandant.

  "Close the cupola," he signalled. "Every man take shelter."

  Montoisy tried in vain to locate the enormous guns which had started ontheir fell work. They could not be seen. To fire at them wasimpossible. That they had so soon been got into position seemed to showthat their concrete emplacements had been prepared long before.

  For two hours the helpless garrison crouched in their shelters, hearingthe roar of the guns, the crashing of masonry and the splintering ofsteel, almost choked by the noisome gases emitted by the burstingshells. The smashing of the dynamo plunged them into pitch darkness;and all the while, outside, the western sky glowed with the rich hues ofa peaceful sunset.

  At eight o'clock the bombardment ceased, and the Belgians, venturingforth from their subterranean lairs, looked out upon a scene ofdevastation. The slopes and counterslopes were a chaos of rubbish: itwas as if an earthquake had shaken the foundations of the globe. Greatchasms yawned; tongues of flame shot up from where one of the cupolashad been; shapeless shreds of armour plate lay amid jagged masses ofmasonry and heaps of stones. No trace of the guns was to be seen.

  Far down the slope two German officers were advancing under a whiteflag. Coming within hailing distance they called on the garrison tosurrender.

  "You have seen what our guns can do," said one of them in French. "Youhave been struck by 278 shells; you cannot reply; and we have still morecolossal guns in reserve. Surrender, or you will be annihilated."

  The commandant, wounded as he was, half choked by the foul gases thatstill clung about the place, stepped forward and gave his answer.

  "Honour forbids us to surrender: we shall resist to the end."

  The garrison waved their caps and cheered. A nation whose strickensoldiers showed such a spirit could never be quelled, thought Kenneth.The Germans laughed and withdrew. In half an hour the bombardmentrecommenced, this time from two directions. The men in their gallerieslistened helplessly to the destruction of their world.

  Darkness fell, and except for an occasional shot the bombardment ceased.The commandant sent for Pariset.

  "It is useless," he said wearily. "Their shells will pierce thegalleries to-morrow. One of my men has already had his hand blown off;others are seriously wounded. To-night I shall flood the magazines andbreak all the rifles and guns; in the morning I must surrender. But youand your friend are not of my garrison: there is work for you outside;why should you be carried prisoners to Germany? Slip out in thedarkness. There are no infantry around the fort. I can provide youwith civilian dress. It will be dangerous to attempt to get into Liege.Make for Seraing, cross the river there, and slip between the Flemalleand Hollogne forts towards Brussels. And tell General Wonters that weheld out until resistance was hopeless."

  Towards midnight the two friends in peasant costume slipped out of therear of the fort, and taking the stars as their guide trudged throughthe fields and woods and up the hill into the deserted streets ofSeraing. The great iron-foundries were silent; no glare from thefurnaces lit the sky.

  "Belgium is paying a heavy price," thought Kenneth.

  They crossed the silent bridge in the moonlight, crossed the Namur roadand the railway beyond, and had just reached the road leading throughWaremme and Louvain to Brussels when the sound of voices on their rightcaused them to shrink back behind a hedge. Peering out they saw apatrol of some twenty-five Uhlans riding past at a foot pace.

  "We shall have to go across the fields," whispered Pariset, when thehorsemen had gone by. "We dare not pass them. This means a generaladvance to-morrow. The bosches lose no time."

  They struck acro
ss the fields to the south of their true course, andplodded on, more or less at a venture. Turning by and by into a lane,they almost collided with a cyclist, who, swerving to avoid them,skidded on the wet track, and fell to the ground. The sinking moon shedjust enough light for them to distinguish a French uniform, and they ranforward to assist the fallen man, Pariset speaking to him in French.

  "Ah! You are French?" said the cyclist, springing to his feet andraising his bicycle.

  "Belgian and English, monsieur," Pariset answered. "You are a scout?"

  "Yes; a troop of Chasseurs are a mile or two south. Have you seenanything of the enemy?"

  "A number of Uhlans are riding up the Waremme road."

  "How many?"

  "Twenty-five or so."

  "Are they riding fast?"

  "No; at a walking pace."

  "Then we will capture them. I will ride on to the road and keep my eyeon them. You hurry along the lane and tell our men to hurry. There isno time to be lost."

  Willing enough to do something, even at this last moment, for the commoncause, Kenneth and Pariset hurried along the lane. In the course of aquarter of an hour they met the Chasseurs. Pariset gave the message,and on explaining that he was a Belgian officer and knew the countrywell was invited to mount behind the captain and act as guide. Kennethsprang up behind a trooper, and they set off at a trot, riding acrossthe fields in order not to be heard.

  Presently they heard, in the distance, a revolver shot. Immediatelyafterwards came the crack of carbines. Quickening their pace, theygalloped in the direction of the sounds, expecting to find that thescout had been killed.

  At Pariset's instructions, they rode in a north-westerly direction, soas to strike the Waremme road some miles west of the spot where he andKenneth had seen the Uhlans. The firing continued; the sound of thesingle revolver was clearly distinguishable from the reports of thecarbines. Wondering what was happening, they came suddenly upon aremarkable scene.

  Dawn was stealing over the country. At a turn of the road, the cyclistwas standing behind a tree, resting his revolver against the trunk. Noone was in sight at the moment, but just as the Chasseurs, who had nowreduced their pace to a walk, came up behind the cyclist, he fired hisrevolver at a Uhlan who had edged round the corner.

  The Chasseur captain took in the situation at a glance. Whispering toPariset and Kenneth to get down, he gave his men the order to charge.With a wild cry they dashed forward, swept round the bend, and fell uponthe Uhlans, grouped indecisively at the side of the road. There was abrisk fight, lasting half a minute. Ten of the Uhlans were killed orwounded, the rest flung down their arms and surrendered.

  "Many thanks, messieurs," the cyclist was saying to Pariset and Kenneth."I was afraid they would not be up in time. But they are a timid lot,these bosches."

  It appeared that, not content with merely watching the Uhlans, he hadconceived the bold notion of holding them up until the Chasseursarrived.

  The Chasseurs returned with their prisoners towards their own lines. Thecaptain had invited Pariset to accompany them, but Pariset decided,tired though he was, to continue his course towards Brussels. WithKenneth, he plodded along the road, and an hour later they werechallenged by Belgian outposts at Waremme. They were too fatigued toenter into explanations at once, and sought shelter in a cottage, wherethey slept until the sun was high. And when they awoke and went intothe village street, they found the people streaming westward, in carts,on foot, carrying what they could of their household gear. FortBoncelles had surrendered.

  Seeking the colonel of the nearest regiment, they told him what they hadseen in the fort. He had just heard by telephone that Fort Loncin alsohad surrendered that morning, and General Leman was a prisoner.

  They begged a lift in a farmer's cart, and in the evening reachedBrussels, where they found an asylum with a friend of Pariset's. Therethey remained for a few days, recuperating after the strain which,scarcely noticed while they were in action, had told heavily upon themboth. Every day they heard of fresh advances of the Teuton hordes, ofgallant deeds by the sorely tried little army of Belgium. Every daythey saw pallid, nerve-shaken, wounded refugees flocking in fromTirlemont and other places desolated by German shot and shell.

  Pariset was much depressed.

  "We shall cease to exist," he said one day. "The brutes will destroy usall. They are ruthless. They are fiends. What have we done that weshould suffer so?"

  "Cheer up, old man," said Kenneth. "Look here! 'Gallant littleBelgium!'" He pointed to the headline of an article in an Englishnewspaper. "You might have chosen the easy course; you didn't, and thewhole world admires you."

  "But that won't save us."

  "No, but you've saved France. You've thrown the German war machine outof gear, and I bet you you've smashed their chances. Lord Kitchener israising a great army. The Kaiser scoffs at our men; he'll sing adifferent tune some day. I'm going home, Remi, going to joinKitchener's army. Sorry to leave you, old man, but we'll meet again,never fear, perhaps soon, perhaps not until British, French and Belgiansmeet the Russians in Berlin. And when the war is over, you may be surethat gallant little Belgium will rise like the phoenix, and growstronger and more prosperous than ever."

  ----

  Four days later Kenneth was in London. He found awaiting him at home abulky envelope addressed in a strange hand, the postmark Amsterdam.Opening it, he took out two letters, dated a week back, and posted inKoenigsborn. One was in the handwriting of Max Finkelstein, the otherin the large round hand of Frieda.

  "I hope this will reach you," the former wrote. "I am sending it through my friend Vandermond. After a few days' detention as a spy, I was released for want of evidence, and as business is absolutely dead, we have come to Koenigsborn, where we shall rusticate and pinch until this dreadful war is over. We hear all sorts of tales, and the credence paid them by otherwise intelligent people makes me think that we as a nation have a good deal to learn. One extraordinary story, by the way, will amuse you. It was rumoured in Cologne that a French airman had run off with one of our Taubes, a feat which you, knowing Cologne, will recognise as impossible. I believe it as little as I believe that the Irish are in revolt.

  "I am glad for our sake that recruiting is a failure in England. People here are very bitter against the English, but I explain that you have been hoodwinked by those awful Russians. Your statesmen are so easily taken in. After the war your people will admit it.

  "Keep the London business together as well as you can. Next year I dare say I shall settle in London myself, and nothing shall interfere with our plans for a partnership. Write to me if you can."

  ----

  "Poor old Max!" thought Kenneth. "Of course, like all Germans, hethinks they will win: professors and the General Staff have drummed thatinto their foolish heads. He'll have a shock when I tell him I havejoined the army. Now for Frieda."

  ----

  "Was it you?" he read. "I daren't suggest it to Father; he scoffs atthe mere idea that any one could do so audacious a thing. But when youdidn't come back for your luggage I was anxious and went down to thestation, and the stationmaster told me that you had gone away with yourticket and hadn't come for your seat that he had engaged for you, andwhen I heard the rumour about the French airman I couldn't help thinkingit was just the mad sort of thing you would delight in. Do tell me if Iam right.

  "This is a terrible war, isn't it? What is the good of you Englishfighting? Father says your army is too small to do anything, and youcan't get recruits because all your young men want to play football. Iam so sorry for you. Father says you will give it up when we takeParis, and then you will have to give us some of your colonies. Youhave so many that I am sure you can spare some.

  "We shall very likely come to London next year, Father says. We shallalways be fr
iends, you and I, shan't we?

  "We haven't seen anything of Kurt Hellwig lately. You don't think Igrieve?"

  ----

  "It's amazing!" said Kenneth to himself. "I thought Frieda would haveknown better. She would laugh, I suppose, if I told her that I amlikely to be in Berlin before she comes to London."

  But Kenneth Amory was to go through many adventures, before he met RemiPariset in Berlin.

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