CHAPTER XXVII
With the Naval Brigade at Antwerp
Fort de Wavre Ste Catherine had fallen. Unable to fire an effectiveshot in reply to the terrible bombardment of the formidable German28-cm. shells, the strongest of the outer line of Antwerp defencessuffered the same fate as the steel-clad cupolas of Liege.
Antwerp was doomed. The Belgians themselves realized the fact. Theirone hope was that the German infantry would attempt to rush thetrenches. Then it would be proved again that the Belgian infantrymanwas as good as or better than his Teutonic foe.
Nevertheless, driven from the outer forts on the southern side of thedefences, the garrison was not dismayed. In spite of the fact that bytheir resistance Antwerp itself would presumably suffer at the hands ofthe Germanic hordes, the Belgians knew that their sacrifice would notbe in vain. To take the city a huge force of Germans would berequired--and that force was badly needed elsewhere. Day by day, hourby hour, the British and French allied forces were extending their leftwing from the Aisne to the Belgian frontier, circumventing all theefforts on the part of their foes to turn their flank. The "holdingup" of the German besiegers of Antwerp was sufficient to enable theAllies firmly to establish their threatened left flank upon the coastof the North Sea.
One by one the outer forts fell. A shell demolished the waterworks andthreatened the city's water supply. Back fell the Belgians,reluctantly relaxing their hold upon the trenches, in which they weresubjected to a heavy fire without even so much as a glimpse of ahostile grey-coat.
During these momentous days Kenneth and Rollo were busily employedconveying important messages under fire. It was a matter ofimpossibility for them not to realize the hopelessness of the position,but they did not relax their efforts on that account. The Belgianswere not fighting with their backs to a wall. Behind them lay theneutral territory of Holland. At any given time they could evacuatethe city and allow themselves to be interned; but this they would notdo until they received news that their allies were firmly establishedin their proposed position.
On the second day of October preparations were made for the Governmentto abandon Antwerp, when suddenly the exodus came to a standstill. Theword flew from mouth to mouth that a strong British force was to bethrown into Antwerp, and, with the aid of the Belgian army, to raisethe siege and turn the enemy's flank.
"That's good news," remarked Kenneth; but Rollo was far from optimistic.
"We've heard such a lot of this sort of talk before, old man," he said."Until I see a British regiment in Antwerp I'll have my doubts."
Early on the morning of the 4th, the lads were roused from theirslumbers by a roar of cheering. Emerging from their shell-proofshelter, they were surprised and delighted to find that rumour hadmerged into fact. Surging along towards the trenches in the directionof Lierre were hundreds of men dressed in the well-known British navaluniform. As yet they were not under shellfire, for the German gunswere devoting their energies towards the works at Lierre, and thehostile air-craft had not noted the approach of British reinforcements.
Presently the bluejackets halted and piled arms. It was their lastbreathing-space before they dashed into the shell-swept trenches.
"Let's go and see them," suggested Rollo; and his companion agreeing,the two chums hurried towards the resting bluejackets, who weresurrounded by hundreds of their Belgian allies, for the present offduty from the firing-line.
"I wonder how we manage to spare this crowd of sailors," remarkedKenneth as they made their way towards their fellow-countrymen. "Ishould have thought that every man would be wanted for service with thefleet."
"At any rate, they're here," said Rollo; "and there are fellows inkhaki coming along the Lierre road, if I'm not much mistaken."
The lads stood watching the sailors for some time. Their insularreserve kept them from immediately entering into conversation, althoughthey were filled with impatience to know what had happened.
For the most part the bluejackets were young men of good physique.They lacked the bronzed appearance of seamen who have braved thebreezes of the five oceans. Many of them were pale, not withapprehension, but with a consciousness that they had before them astern task that would tax their energies and courage, for they weregoing under fire for the first time.
Presently one of the bluejackets strolled up to the spot where Kennethand his chum were standing.
"Est-ce--est-ce que vous--oh, hang it! what's the French for----" hebegan.
"Try English, old man; it will be a jolly sight easier for you," saidKenneth, laughing.
"Why, you're British, and in Belgian get-up!" exclaimed the bluejacketin surprise. "What are you doing here, I should like to know?"
"Exactly the same question we want to ask you," replied Kenneth."We're dispatch-riders in the Belgian service. We heard that Britishtroops were to be sent here, but we didn't expect sailors."
"Nor are we," replied the other. "Candidly we're not, although we arethe Collingwood Battalion of the Naval Brigade."
"Never heard of it before," remarked Rollo.
"You haven't? Have you heard of Kitchener's army, then?"
The lads shook their heads.
"Then you are behind the times. Whatever have you been doing withyourselves? I'll tell you. As soon as war broke out Kitchener askedfor half a million men. He got them right enough. In addition theystarted Naval Brigades. It was a good wheeze, for a lot of fellowsjoined for the sake of wearing a naval uniform instead of khaki,although there was no intention of using us at sea--at least, not atpresent. Two months ago I was an actor. To quote the words of theimmortal _Pinafore_: 'I never was upon the sea'."
"'What, never?'" queried Rollo, continuing the words of the song.
"'Well--hardly ever'. Fact is that until I left Walmer to cross theChannel my longest trip was from Portsmouth to Ryde. I was beastlysea-sick crossing, but I'm jolly glad I'm here. We stand a chance ofdoing a bit before Kitchener's army gets a sniff of a look-in. We'lldo our little bit, never fear. Well, so long; hope to see you again."
The division was falling in, preparatory to advancing in open ordertowards the trenches facing the River Nethe, close to the village ofLierre. Steadfastly, and with the quiet courage that distinguishesBritons under fire, the lads of the Naval Brigade marched into the zoneof danger to attempt to stem the advance of the German hordes upon thecity of Antwerp.
"Ah, messieurs!" exclaimed Major Planchenoit, as the dispatch-ridersreported themselves for orders. He was in high spirits, for, like therest of the Belgian troops, he was greatly cheered by the fact that thelong-promised aid was at last forthcoming. "Ah, messieurs! to-day youwill report yourselves at Lierre. You will be of service asinterpreters, for your gallant fellow-countrymen do not seemparticularly well acquainted with our language."
It was hot work making their way to the trenches, for already theGermans had renewed their destructive fire. Briton and Belgian, lyingside by side in the hastily-constructed shelters, were subjected to agalling shrapnel fire without being able to make an adequate reply.From the rear, two British heavy naval guns were resolutely hurtlingshells towards the invisible German battery; but of what use were twoagainst so many?
Manfully the untried men of the Naval Brigade took their gruelling. Itwas one of the hardest tasks that men, going for the first time intoaction, had to endure: to be subjected to a tremendous bombardmentwithout being able to fire a shot in return. Nevertheless they stuckit grimly, waiting and praying that they might have a chance of meetingthe German infantry on anything like level terms.
That chance came at last. At night the German artillery-fireslackened. Pouring onwards in dense masses came the grey-uniformedlegions, intent upon forcing the passage of the River Nethe in theneighbourhood of Lierre.
Already the British Marines had blown up the bridge, while across themain street of the shell-wrecked village a strong barricade of cartsfaced with sandbags had been constructed. Working desperately, theGerman engineers succeeded
in throwing pontoons across the stagnantriver. With shouts of "Deutschland ueber Alles" the infantry pouredacross, greeted by a withering fire from Briton and Belgian.
The Naval Brigade's rifle-firing was as steady as that of a veteranbattalion. Maxims added to the general clatter. All along thetrenches flashed the deadly spurts of fire from the small-arms. TheGerman infantry, swept away like chaff, failed to make good theposition: the Briton proved a better man than the vaunted Teuton. Thencame the recurrence of the deadly shrapnel. The Belgian infantry onthe right were compelled to retire, and into the position they vacatedpoured other German regiments, covered by a fierce artillery fire thatwas impartial as to whether it struck friend or foe.
It was now that the Naval Brigade failed to come up to the standard ofthoroughly trained and seasoned troops. Having repelled the attackupon their immediate front, they could not easily be induced to retire.The desire to "stop and have another shot at the beggars" was uppermostin the minds of these stalwart youths. They failed to realize thatwith the Allied line pressed they were in danger of being enfiladed.But reluctantly and doggedly they eventually fell back within theshelter of the inner line of forts.
For the next two days the German heavy guns pounded the weak line ofdefence. Inexplicably, although the city was well within range, noprojectiles fell in Antwerp. Perhaps it was because the invaders hopedto take a practically undamaged port.
Meanwhile the Belgian army, with the British Naval Brigade, was beingwithdrawn from Antwerp. Further resistance was hopeless, while by thistime the Anglo-French armies were in their allotted positions accordingto General Joffre's plan. All that remained to be done in Antwerp wasto destroy everything likely to be of military value to the enemy, andextricate the defenders from what promised to be a veritable trap.
In vain, during the night of the retirement, Kenneth and Rollo soughtto regain their regiment. Whither the 9th of the Line had gone no oneseemed to know. Some had it that the devoted regiment had perishedalmost to a man in the trenches; others that it was on its way toOstend; others that it had crossed the frontier into Holland.
"Now what's to be done?" asked Rollo.
"Find the girls, if they haven't already left, and get them to a placeof safety," replied Kenneth grimly. "We can do no more at present forBelgium; we must look after ourselves and our friends. Lead on: to theSt. Nicholas Hospital."
The Dispatch-Riders: The Adventures of Two British Motor-cyclists in the Great War Page 27
