The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War
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CHAPTER VI
A Vain Assault
"I say, how about your sister, old man?" asked Rollo.
"She's all right," replied Kenneth optimistically. "These Germansdon't make war on women and girls. Besides, Madame de la Barredoubtless dropped a little of her standoffishness directly she heardthe sound of firing. I'm pretty sure they are now either safe in Dutchterritory or else on their way to Brussels."
"If I had a sister I would be a jolly sight more anxious about her thanyou are," persisted Rollo.
"Now, how can I help it? Besides, you don't know Thelma. Shewouldn't, under the circumstances, wait for Madame to give herpermission to clear out, and, since Yvonne is her special friend,she'll look after the Major's daughter as well. I'm sorry we haven'tcome across Major Resimont since our return."
"He must feel a bit anxious," remarked Rollo.
"About the money he entrusted us with?" laughed Kenneth. "Well, Iadmit that it was a bit of a risk, for we might have been bowled overby one of those German shells. Ah! there's another!"
The two dispatch-riders were under cover at Fort de Barchon, enjoying ahasty meal after their return from their fruitless errand. It was latein the day, and many hours had elapsed since they had had anything toeat. It was a kind of preliminary to the period of short rationsthrough which they were to pass.
The German artillery was furtively shelling the Liege forts as aprelude to the general bombardment that was to take place as soon asthe shades of night began to fall.
General von Emmich had brought up a force of 88,000 men against the23,000 Belgian troops manning the Liege defences; but, owing to thedifficulty of transporting his heavy guns, the German commander decidedto open a furious cannonade with his light field artillery, and tofollow up with an assault by means of dense masses of troops.
Soon the cannonade became general, the heaviest of the hostile firebeing directed upon Forts d'Evegnee and de Fleron, while Fort deBarchon came in for a hot bombardment.
It was by no means a one-sided encounter. The Belgian infantry, lyingsnugly sheltered either in the trenches or in the bomb-proof galleriesof 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 werepractically intact.
Kenneth and Rollo, in the galleries of Fort de Barchon, could feel theconcussion of the revolving guns and the detonations of the explodingGerman shells, although they were, like the rest of the infantry, inignorance of what was taking place. The inaction was far morenerve-racking than actual exposure with the chance of getting in a shot.
Suddenly above the roar of the artillery came a bugle-call, followed byexcited shouts of "Aux armes!" Instantly there was a wild rush to manthe parapets on the inner face of the glacis.
"Come along, old man!" exclaimed Kenneth. "We may as well have a lookin."
Snatching up a rifle and making sure that the magazine was charged, hedashed out of the gallery, Rollo following hard on his heels.
A weird sight met their eyes. The blackness of the night was piercedby the dazzling rays of powerful searchlights and punctuated by therapid flashes from the heavy ordnance. The thunder of the guns wasear-splitting, the crash of the exploding projectiles appalling, yetthe attention of the two lads was directed towards the scene that laybefore them.
All along the parapet, protected by sandbags, were the Belgianinfantry, ready, with their rifles sighted to 800 yards, to open fireat the word of command. Beyond the turf of the glacis, where almostevery blade of grass stood up under the sweeping rays of thesearchlights as if made of gleaming silver, were dense masses ofgrey-coated, spike-helmeted Germans.
On they came as steadily as if on parade, while between the rapidcrashes of the artillery could be distinguished the harsh voices of themen as they sang "Deutschland ueber Alles" and the "Wacht am Rhein".The only relief to those grey-clad battalions was the glitter of theforest of bayonets.
If numbers could annihilate, the fate of the comparative handful ofBelgians was sealed; but von Emmich had, like many another man,underrated the courage of the plucky little Belgians.
The Germans were now within the danger-zone of shell-fire. Shrapneltore ghastly lanes through their serried ranks, but other men wereinstantly forthcoming to fill up the gaps. On and on they came tillthey reached the outer edge of the glacis. Here the huge fortress-gunsin the armoured cupolas could not be sufficiently depressed to do themharm.
The crackle of the Belgian musketry added to the din. The men, firingsteadily, swept away hundreds of their Teutonic foes, but the ant-likeswarm of ferocious humanity still swept onwards.
Kenneth and Rollo were firing away as hard as they could thrust homethe bolts of the rifles and press trigger. The hostile gun-fire hadnow ceased, lest German should fall by German shell. The infantry,firing with the butts of their rifles at the hip, let loose a terrificvolley. The air was torn by the _zipp_ of the bullets, but for themost part the hail of missiles either flew high or harmlessly expendeditself in the soft earth. Now, in spite of the withering fire, theforemost of the German stormers were almost up to the parapet of theouter defences. Victory seemed within their grasp. Their shoutsredoubled. Drunk with the apparent success of their suicidal tactics,they rushed to overwhelm the slender line of Belgian riflemen.
Through the rapidly-drifting clouds of smoke--for there was a strongwind blowing athwart the line of attack--the two British lads couldclearly see the features of the exultant foes, as they recklesslyplunged straight into the dazzling rays of the searchlight.
Mechanically Kenneth began to wonder what would happen next, for itseemed imminent that bayonet would cross bayonet, and that the handfulof Belgian infantry would be cut off to the last man.
Then, even as he faced the enemy, the dense masses of Germans seemed tomelt away. They fell, not in sixes and sevens, but in scores andhundreds, till a barricade of dead prevented the massacre of theliving. The Belgians had machine-guns in readiness to take up the workthat the heavier weapons had been obliged to suspend.
The commandant of the 9th regiment of the line saw his chance. Therattle of the Berthier machine-guns ceased as if by magic, and theshout was heard "A la baionnette!"
Instantly the active Belgians swarmed over the glacis and threwthemselves upon the demoralized foe. The repulse of the Germans becamea rout.
Carried away by the enthusiasm of the charge, the Britishdispatch-riders tore along with their Belgian comrades, Kenneth withrifle and bayonet, while Rollo was brandishing his Mauser and using thebutt-end like an exaggerated hockey-stick.
Just in front of them was a little Belgian officer who, on the point ofcutting down a burly German major, had arrested the fatal stroke uponthe latter crying out for quarter. The German, who had been beaten tothe ground, tendered his sword, and the Belgian, casting it aside,rushed on to continue the counter-charge.
Before he had taken two strides he fell, hit in the ankle, and Kenneth,who was following, promptly tripped across his body.
The sight of his chum pitching on his face caused Rollo's heart to jumpinto his mouth. He stopped, and to his great relief Kenneth regainedhis feet. The Belgian also attempted to rise, but could only raisehimself to the extent of his outstretched arms.
Rollo was on the point of going to assist his chum, who was directinghis attention to the wounded Belgian officer, when he saw the Germanmajor stealthily produce his revolver and take aim at the man who hadspared his life.
Perhaps it was well for the ungrateful major that Rollo was a keenfootballer. Forgetting that he held a clubbed rifle in his hand thelad took a flying kick; his boot caught the German major on the wrist,and the revolver, exploding harmlessly, went spinning a dozen pacesaway.
Standing over the recreant officer Rollo swung the butt of his rifle.The German howled for mercy.
"Hold hard, old man!" shouted Kenneth, grasping his chum by theshoulder. He could scarcely
credit his senses, seeing the usuallydeliberate and self-possessed Rollo about to kill a defenceless Germanofficer.
"That brute was about to shoot down a fellow who had given himquarter," hissed Rollo: "that captain over there, the one sitting upwith a wounded leg."
"We'll collar the cad in any case," declared Kenneth, for the Belgiantroops were now being recalled. The attack had been repulsed, but thedefenders were too wary to risk being caught out in the open.
Drawing his revolver Rollo ordered the German to rise. The Majorapparently did not understand French, for he only cried the more.
"Get up instantly," exclaimed Rollo in English.
The German looked at his captor in surprise. His appeals for mercyceased. He stood up.
"I surrender," he said in the same language.
With one of the British lads on either side the prisoner was urgedonwards at a rapid pace, surrounded by swarms of exultant Belgians,many of whom were limping or nursing their wounded arms. Others weresupporting or carrying those of their comrades who were more seriouslyhurt, yet all were uplifted by their enthusiasm at the thought ofhaving vanquished von Emmich's hordes.
Upon gaining the shelter of Fort de Barchon the British lads handedtheir prisoner over to the charge of a corporal and a file of men. Itwas well for the German that his captors refrained from giving theBelgian soldiers an account of the circumstances under which he hadbeen made prisoner.
The German major seemed dazed. He could not understand how he had beencaptured by Englishmen; for it had been given out to the troops of vonEmmich's division that Great Britain had decided to remain neutral.Her attitude had been gained by a promise on the part of the GermanGovernment that only the French and Belgian colonies should be annexed,and that no permanent occupation of these two countries wascontemplated. And now he had been informed that Great Britain and hervast empire beyond the seas had fallen into line to aid right againstmight. The news troubled him beyond measure--far more than theprobability of what the result of his treacherous act would be; for hewas a Teuton imbued with the belief that all is fair in war, and thattreaties and conventions are alike mere matters of form.
"Ah! you have been in the fight," exclaimed Major Resimont. "Thatshould not be. Dispatch-riders are required for other things."
Kenneth and Rollo saluted.
"Couldn't help it," explained Kenneth. "When the men charged we simplyhad to go. It was splendid."
"You think so? So do we," said the Major proudly. "We have taught theBosches a lesson; we have shown them that Belgians can fight. We musthold them in front of the Liege forts for a few days, and then theFrench and the English armies will be here. A matter of three days,perhaps, and then, _pouf!_ they blow the Kaiser and his armies upon thebayonets of the Russians. It is good to think that the English are soclose."