The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Through the Enemy's Lines

  "Everything's all clear, as far as I can see," reported Kenneth. "Thequestion is, how are we to rejoin our regiment?"

  "I can foot it," declared Rollo.

  "But not ten miles. Your ankle would give out before you walked ahundred yards. What I vote we do is that I ride the bike and take youon the carrier."

  Rollo shook his head.

  "Too jolly conspicuous," he protested. "One fellow might stand theghost of a chance, but two----"

  Kenneth turned over the question in his mind for a few moments. Toremain where they were was impracticable. They would be starvingbefore many more hours had passed.

  "Tell you what!" he exclaimed as an idea flashed through his brain."We'll rig ourselves out in German uniforms----"

  "And get shot as spies if we're collared! No, thanks, Kenneth. If weare to be plugged I'd rather be in Belgian uniform, since a British oneis at present out of the question."

  "It's a risk, I admit. Everything is, under existing circumstances.If we are spotted, then there's an end to it and us; otherwise we standa better chance by masquerading in these fellows' clothes."

  "But if we are challenged? We couldn't reply in German."

  "You're meeting trouble half-way."

  "I like to go into the pros and cons," declared Rollo. "If you canconvince me that your scheme is a sound one, I'm on; otherwise--deadoff. For one thing, where are the German uniforms?"

  "You've forgotten the Uhlans we slung into the ditch."

  Rollo shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.

  "I draw the line at donning the saturated uniform of a dead Uhlan."

  "Come, don't be squeamish. If you are never asked to do a worse thingthan that in the course of your natural, then you are a luckyindividual. You'll find it's like taking a header into the sea on agusty summer's day. The wind makes you shiver, and you think twiceabout it, but once you are in the water it's comparatively warm."

  "You haven't got over the language difficulty."

  "Yes, I have; at least I think so. If we meet any patrols, you mustpretend to be half-dead----"

  "I guess I shall be dead entirely if we do."

  "Badly wounded, then. I'll bandage you up, and at the same time put ascarf round my jaw."

  "What for?"

  "Haven't you any imagination, old man? Why, to make out I've beenwounded in the mouth and am unable to speak a word."

  "You may think me an obstinate mule, Kenneth," said his comrade, "butwhy should two wounded men be trying to make their way to the front?Naturally they would be making tracks to the nearest field hospital."

  "You've done me there," declared Kenneth. "But I can't see how we cango direct towards the German lines. Whether we go to the right or leftthe road runs nearly parallel to the enemy's front."

  "Perhaps we may as well risk it," decided Rollo. "I believe I noticeda plank across the ditch about a mile along the road. The question iswhether the bike will stand it over the rough ground."

  "She will--she'll tackle anything within reason," said Kennethoptimistically. "So let's make a move."

  Overcoming their natural repugnance, the two lads recovered the bodiesof a couple of Uhlans from the muddy ditch and proceeded to strip themof their uniforms. These they wrung out, and placed on the brokenbrickwork to dry.

  "I say!" suddenly exclaimed Rollo. "How about these boots with spurs?Do Uhlans ever ride motor-bikes?"

  "Rather! They've a couple of motor-cyclists to each troop. All wehave to do is to knock off the spurs, and there you are!"

  As soon as the two lads had completed their change of uniforms theymade a final reconnaissance. Finding the road clear of troops, Kennethstarted the engine and stood astride the saddle, while Rollo took uphis position on the carrier.

  They looked a pair of bedraggled scarecrows. The Uhlan uniforms werewet and plastered with mud. Rollo's forehead was bound round with agrimy scarf, while, to give a most realistic touch, Kenneth had tiedthe blood-stained handkerchief that had been applied to his chum'sankle round the lower part of his face, completely covering his mouth.

  "Ready?" asked Kenneth in muffled tones. Receiving an affirmativereply from his companion, he slipped in the clutch and away the cycleglided.

  "Here's trouble!" the lad thought before many yards of road had beentraversed, for ahead was a rapidly-nearing cloud of dust that evidentlybetokened the approach of cavalry or horse artillery.

  "Troops of sorts coming," he informed his companion.

  "Thanks, quite comfortable," was Rollo's inconsequential reply; for thehandkerchief round Kenneth's mouth, the noise of the engine, and therush of air as the motor-cycle tore along prevented the passenger fromhearing the information given, while Rollo was unable to look ahead.

  "Germans in sight!" yelled Kenneth.

  This time Rollo understood. Resisting the temptation to look over hiscompanion's shoulder, he drooped his head, as becoming the role of abadly-wounded man.

  The on-coming troops turned out to be neither cavalry nor artillery,but a motor section, including a machine-gun mounted on an armouredside-car. Fortunately the pace as Rollo and Kenneth tore past was suchthat recognition or detection was out of the question.

  "Here we are," announced Rollo a few seconds later.

  Kenneth quickly pulled up. As he did so he gave a hurried look around.There were no signs of more Germans, while the motor-cyclist detachmentwas almost out of sight.

  The plank across the ditch was about nine inches wide. In places itwas worn to such an extent that there were holes in the wood. Kennetheyed it with obvious distrust, yet it seemed the only likely means ofgaining the open country beyond, across which a footpath promisedfairly easy going.

  "I didn't know that it was so rotten as that," said Rolloapologetically. "I don't know whether it will bear the weight of thebike."

  "We'll risk it anyhow," declared Kenneth. "Can you put your foot tothe ground without much pain? You can? Good! Steady the jigger asecond."

  Unhesitatingly Kenneth jumped into the ditch. He sank above his anklesin mud, with the water up to his thighs, yet he was able to keep themotor-cycle in an upright position while Rollo, steadying himself bymeans of the saddle, pushed it along the creaking plank.

  "That looks bad," commented Kenneth, pointing to a small object lyingon the ground. It was a brass button from the tunic of a Prussiansoldier. Some of the enemy had passed that way, and were consequentlybetween the lads and the Belgian lines.

  "We may find a gap," declared Rollo, for by this time he waswhole-heartedly devoted to the carrying out of his comrade's plans."If it comes to the pinch we will have to abandon the bike."

  "Steady, old man!" said Kenneth in mock reproof. "Because you lostyour motor-cycle there is no reason why you should suggest my doinglikewise. Now, jump up."

  Kenneth maintained a moderate pace, keeping a bright look-out for anyindications of the invaders. Judging by the state of the path and theground for a few yards on either side, a regiment had recently passedthat way, marching in fours. That meant that they were some distancefrom the supposed firing-line, otherwise the men would have advanced inopen order. From the north came the distant rumble of guns. An actionwas in progress in the neighbourhood of Diest and Aerschot.

  "Look out!" suddenly exclaimed Rollo. "There's a Taube."

  "Where?" enquired his companion, slipping the handkerchief from overhis mouth.

  "Right behind us, and coming this way. I believe it's going to land."

  "The rotter!" ejaculated Kenneth. "I wonder if they have spotted us,and are suspicious."

  There was no time to say more, for the aeroplane was now passingoverhead at an altitude of about two hundred feet. The motor had beenswitched off, and the Taube was vol-planing towards the earth.

  It descended clumsily, striking the ground with a terrific bump thatdemolished the wheels and landing-skids. Directly the Taube came torest, the pilot
alighted and waved frantically to the two supposedUhlan motor-cyclists.

  "I'll have to go," mumbled Kenneth, who had readjusted his bandage."You stay here. Now, steady--let me help you. Remember you are badlywounded, yet you want to skip like a superanimated gazelle. That'sbetter; let your arms trail helplessly."

  Having placed Rollo in a dry, shallow ditch by the side of the path,Kenneth walked quickly towards the disabled Taube. Outwardly he wascool enough, but his heart was beating rapidly.

  At ten paces from the observer he stopped, clicked his heels, andsaluted in correct German fashion.

  The flying-officer spoke rapidly, at the same time pointing in awesterly direction. Kenneth knew not a word of what he said, butreplied by nodding his head and indicating his bandaged jaw.

  The German scowled, then, turning to the pilot, spoke a few quicksentences. Kenneth's hand wandered to the butt-end of his revolver.It imparted a feeling of comparative security. Then, recollecting hisrole, he pulled himself together and stood rigidly at attention, at thesame time ready, at the first sign of suspicion on the part of theairmen, to draw his weapon and blaze away.

  Presently the pilot produced some sheets of paper and a buff calicoenvelope. The observer scribbled a few lines, sealed the missive, andheld it towards the pseudo Uhlan.

  Although Kenneth could not understand the other's words, their meaningwas clear enough. He had been peremptorily told to make tracks anddeliver the message somewhere towards the west, where the German lineswere. With another salute he wheeled, and returned to his companion.Not daring to speak a word, he assisted Rollo to his seat on thecarrier and set the motor in action.

  "We're in luck, old man," said Kenneth, when they were well out ofsight of the disabled Taube. "If we are spotted by any patrols thisletter will pass us through. It's evidently a report to the colonel ofone of the regiments in the fighting-line."

  "Don't you think you had better drop me?"

  "Drop you--what on earth for?"

  "You might get through as a German dispatch-rider; but with a supposedwounded man going towards the firing-line? Looks a bit suspicious, eh?"

  "No fear; we'll stick together. If one gets through, the other must;otherwise we'll both go under. Hello! Here's a road."

  It was a sharp corner as they swung from the path to the highway.Kenneth wisely slowed down, and found himself almost in collision witha German patrol.

  The men were evidently exhausted. Two were standing in the centre ofthe road, and leaning heavily upon their rifles. Half a dozen more,having discarded their rolled coats and cumbersome knapsacks, werereclining on a bank. The two faced about on hearing the approach ofthe motor. The others sprang to their feet and seized their rifles.

  Producing the buff envelope Kenneth waved it frantically, at the sametime increasing speed. The Germans stood back, the sergeant grunting afew words as the two lads flashed by. No bullets whistled past them;the aviator's dispatch had proved a safe passport.

  For the next two miles they were continually passing troops, some goingin the same direction, accompanied by heavily-laden supply wagons;others, wounded in action, painfully making their way towards thenearest field hospital.

  The action, whatever the result might be, was no longer in this part ofthe field of operations. Ahead were the bivouacs of the Germansholding the line of front. The air was thick with the smoke of theircampfires. Right and left, as far as the eye could see, were masses ofgrey-coated men, without a sign of a gap through which the British ladscould make a dash for freedom.

  Two hundred yards to the left of the road was a battery, the guns ofwhich were admirably concealed from view from the front by a bank ofearth on which were stuck branches of trees. The muzzles of theartillery were pointing at an angle of thirty degrees, so that theymust have been shelling a Belgian position at a range of about fivemiles. Since the guns were now silent, Kenneth could only reiteratehis belief that the heroic Belgians had had to retire in the face ofoverwhelming numbers, and that a distance of at least seven miles laybetween the two lads and their friends.

  After passing numerous detachments of troops without alarming incident,the confidence of Kenneth and his companion grew stronger; but they hada nasty shock when they were peremptorily challenged by a picket andordered to halt. The sight of half a dozen levelled bayonets left nodoubt as to the demands of the sergeant in charge of the party.

  Kenneth brought the motor-cycle to a dead-stop, keeping his saddle andsupporting the machine by placing his feet on the ground. Rollo, too,made no attempt to dismount, but, clinging to his companion, droopedhis head with well-feigned exhaustion.

  Pointing to the bandage over his jaw, Kenneth produced the officialdocument. The sergeant took it, read the inscription, and pointed to aturning on the right. That, the lads knew, ran parallel to the Germanfront.

  Meanwhile one of the soldiers stooped and peered into Rollo's face.Then he said something to the sergeant, who signified assent. Theprivate began to lift Rollo from his perch--not with any degree ofviolence, but carefully, as if actuated by feelings of compassion,addressing him as _kamerade_.

  Rollo hung on tightly. Kenneth turned his head and expostulated indumb show. The private again appealed to his sergeant, at the sametime pointing to a Red Cross motor-wagon that was standing at somedistance off.

  With a jerk of his head the sergeant bade the man desist. After all,it was not his business. If the wounded Uhlan preferred to be joltedabout on a motorcycle rather than be properly attended to in anambulance cart, it was his affair.

  Not to be outdone, the private gave Rollo a drink from hiswater-bottle. Then, having returned the envelope to Kenneth and givenhim elaborate directions, made fairly clear by many movements of hishand, the sergeant allowed the two lads to proceed.

  To continue along the road would arouse immediate suspicion.Accordingly Kenneth turned off and followed the route indicated by theGerman. Here, although there were plenty of troops moving up and down,most of the traffic was across the road between the bivouacs of theadvance lines and the supports. Men were hurrying, each with a setpurpose, and the two supposed wounded lads attracted but little notice.

  The road they were now following was gradually converging upon the lineof resting troops. Unless it made a bend to the right it would cutthrough the mass of German soldiery. And perhaps the officer whosename was on the envelope might be within close distance. Hisacquaintance neither Kenneth nor Rollo had the faintest desire to make.

  So suddenly that Kenneth almost overshot it, a narrow lane, running atright angles to the direction in which they were travelling, came intoview. It separated two infantry regiments, while at the cross-roadstwo machine-guns commanded the approach from the westward.

  In an instant Kenneth made up his mind. Round swung the motor-bike,grazing one of the machine-guns by a bare inch; then, at full speed,Kenneth began his hazardous dash for safety. He had not ignored therisk, but there was a chance of success. The lane wound considerably,and, before the machine-guns could open fire, the fugitives would bescreened by a bend of the tree-lined avenue.

  A dozen voices shouted to him to stop. A bullet whistled high abovethe heads of the fugitives. A soldier, more alert than his comrades,had let loose a hasty, ill-aimed shot. Other bullets followed, somehitting the ground, others zipping overhead; but to Kenneth's reliefthere was no tap-tap of the deadly machine-guns.

  "An outpost, by Jove!" muttered Kenneth.

  He had not reckoned upon this. A quarter of a mile in advance of theline of bivouacs were a dozen infantrymen, lying hidden in a copse.Hearing the rifle-firing they started to their feet.

  Kenneth never attempted to slacken his pace. He realized thateverything depended upon speed. Before the outposts could solve themystery of two men in Uhlan uniforms tearing towards them, themotor-cycle with its double burden was upon them. They gave back. Oneman attempted to lunge with his bayonet, but the tip of the steelflashed a good hair's breadth behind Rollo's back
.

  A ragged, ill-aimed volley was the parting salute. The two Britishlads were through the enemy's lines.