Altsheler, Joseph - WWI 01 - The Guns Of Europe

by The Guns Of Europe (lit)

  CHAPTER XIV THE GERMAN HOST JOHN was turning away from the camp fire with his friends, when he saw something drop out of the dark, and disappear in a little valley near them. "Another of those aeroplanes," said Carstairs. "I can't get wholly used to the way they zigzag and spiral about at night like huge birds of prey. They always give me a chill, even when I know they're our own." John had secured one good look at the machine as it swooped toward the earth, and he asked his friends to walk with him toward the improvised hangar, where it would surely be lying. They saw a man of slender but very strong build step from the aeroplane, and throw back his visor, showing a tanned face, a somewhat aquiline nose, and eyes penetrating and powerful like those of some bird that soaring far up sees its prey on the earth below. It was an unusual, distinctive face, and the red firelight accentuated every salient characteristic. "Lannes!" said John joyfully. "I thought it was the Arrow when I saw you descending!" John stood in the shadow, and the young French man took a step forward to see better. Then he too uttered an exclamation of gladness. "It's Monsieur Jean the Scott, my comrade of the great battles in the air!" he said. "It was my hope rather than my expectation to find you here." He grasped the extended hand and shook it with great warmth. Then John introduced him to his friends. Lannes and Carstairs surveyed each other a moment. "Frenchman and Englishman have been on the same battle fields for a thousand years," said Carstairs. "Usually the only ones there, and fighting each other," said Lannes. "Whichever side won, the victory was never easy." "You are a brave' people. We French are the best witnesses of it." "We are always slow to start. We are usually the last to reach the battle field." "Also, usually the last to leave it." "It seems fitting to me that the enemies of a thou sand years should have exhausted all their enmity and should now be united against a common foe." "Without you we could not win." Lannes' wonderful eyes were sparkling. There is something deep and moving in the friendships of youth. Moreover it made a powerful appeal to his strongly-developed dramatic side. Foes of a thousand years were bound to acknowledge the merits of each other. Carstairs, less demonstrative, felt the same appeal. Then they too shook hands with strength and enthusiasm. "I approve of this love-feast," said Wharton, "but don't fall to kissing each other. Man kissing man is a continental custom I can't stand." "Don't be alarmed," said Lannes laughing. "It's passing out in France, and I certainly would not do it. I've lived a while in your country. Now will you wait here, my friends? I have a report to make, but I will return in a half hour." When Lannes returned he handed a letter to John : "Your uncle and the worthy Mr. Anson have man aged to reach Paris through Switzerland," he said. "I found them, and, on the chance that I might reach you, the distinguished Senator, your uncle, gave me the letter that I now give to you." Making his excuses to the others John read it hastily. His uncle wrote in a resigned tone. He and Mr. Anson would remain in Paris a short time, and then if the German forces came near, as he feared they might, they would cross to London. He hoped that his nephew would leave the army and join them there, but if contrary to all good advice, he insisted on remaining he trusted that he would fight bravely and show the superiority of Americans to the decadent Europeans. "Good old Uncle Jim," said John to himself, as he put the letter back in his pocket. "Maybe it's a faith like his that will really make us the greatest nation in the world." He did not see any great difference at that moment between the sublime faith of Senator Pomeroy in the United States and the equally sublime faith of Carstairs in the British Empire. The only difference was in their way of expressing it. But he felt a great affestion for his uncle, and he knew very well that the chances were against his ever seeing him again. A ' slight mist came before his eyes. "I thank you for bringing the letter, Lannes," he said. "My uncle and Mr. Anson will remain a while in Paris, and then they will probably go to London." He would not tell Lannes the Senator's reason for leaving Paris. "From what place have you come after leaving Paris, if it's no army secret?" he asked. Lannes with a dramatic gesture swept his hand over his head. "From there. From the heavenly vault," he replied. "I have been everywhere. Over forests and many cities, over the German lines and over our own lines. I have seen the Germans coming not in thousands but in millions. I thought once that the army of our allies would be cut off, but it has joined with our own in time." "Is it true that we fight tomorrow?" "As surely as the rising of the sun." "In that case it would be better for us all to go to sleep," said Carstairs phlegmatically. "We'll need our full strength in the morning." But John was not able to close his eyes for a l ong time. His rather loose position as an aide enabled him to go about much with Darrell, the young officer to whom he had been introduced first, and he saw that the British army awaited the battle with eagerness, not unmixed with curiosity. In John's opinion they held the enemy far too lightly, and he did not hesitate to say so. Darrell was not offended. "It's our national characteristic," he said, "and I suppose it can't be changed. This overweening confi dence sometimes brings us defeats that we might have avoided, and again it brings us victories that we might not have won otherwise. Tommy Atkins is always convinced that he can beat two soldiers of any other nation, unless it's you Yankees. Of course he can't, but the belief helps him a lot." "Remember how you fared in the Boer war." Darrell laughed. "Tommy Atkins doesn't read history, and those who remember it have long since convinced them selves that the Boer successes were due to strange tricks or are merely legendary." John was not at all sure that Darrell was not a bet ter born and better educated Tommy Atkins himself. He, and all the other young officers whom he met, seemed to be absolutely sure of victory on the morrow, no matter how numerous the German host might be. After a while he lay down in the grass, wrapped in a blanket, near his comrades and slept. But the August night was not quiet, and it was an uneasy sleep. He awoke far before dawn and stood up. He heard distant shots now and then from the pickets, and the powerful searchlights often played on the far horizon, casting a white, uncanny glare. Darker spots appeared in the dusky sky. The aeroplanes were already hovering above, watching for the first movement of the enemy. He walked to the place, where the Arrow was lying, and saw Lannes standing beside it, fully clothed for flight. "I'm carrying dispatches to our own army on the right," said Lannes, "and I don't think you will see me again for several days. You fight today, you know." "And we shall win?" Lannes was silent. "All the English are confident of victory," continued John. "Confidence is a sublime thing," said Lannes, "but in a great war it goes best with numbers and prepara tion." John felt the gravity of his tone, but he asked no more questions, seeing that the young Frenchman was reluctant to answer them, and that he was also ready for his flight. "You're in all senses a bird of passage, Philip," he said, "but I know that whatever happens tomorrow or rather today we're going to see each other again. Good-bye." "Good-bye," said Lannes, extending his gloved hand. "We're comrades, John, and I hope sometimes to turn your little fraternity of three into a brotherhood of four. Tell the Englishman, Carstairs, that France and England together can't fail." "He'll think it mostly England." "If we only win, let him think it." Lannes stepped into the machine, it was shoved forward, then it rose gracefully into the air and flew off in the usual spirals and zigzags toward the east, where it was soon lost in the darkness. John gazed toward the point, where he last saw it. It seemed almost a dream, that flight of his with Lannes, and the fight with the Taubes, and the Zeppelin. He was on the ground now, and the coming battle would be fought on the solid earth, as man had been fighting from time immemorial. He was about to return to his blanket when a glad voice called to him and a figure emerged from the dark. "Mr. Scott," came a pleasant voice. "And you were not drowned after all! I thought that I alone escaped!" It was Weber, paler than usual, but without a wound. John's surprise was lost in gladness. He liked this man, whose manners were so agreeable, and he had mourned his death. "Mr. Weber," he said, shaking hands with him, "it's I who should say: 'and you are not dead?' We thought you were drowned under the automobile. Mr. Wharton, Mr. Carstairs and myself escaped unin jured al
though we had a hard time afterward with the Germans. How did you manage it?" "I was under the automobile, and I did come near being drowned, but not quite. I'm a good swimmer, but I was caught by a strap. As soon as I could dis engage myself I swam rapidly down stream under water, came up in the shadow, and crawled among some bushes on the bank. I saw the Germans ride into the river, search the opposite shore, and after a while go away. Then I emerged from the bushes, walked more hours than I can count, and you see me here. I've brought information which I think of value, and I'm on my way now to give it to high officers." John shook hands with him again. Weber's man ner, at once frank and cheerful, invited confidence. "Providence seems to watch over all four of us/ he said. "It's quite certain that none of us will ever meet his death by drowning." "Nor by hanging either I hope," said Weber. "Now I must hurry. If I'm not sent away immediately on another mission it's likely I'll see you tomorrow." He disappeared almost at once. He seemed to John to have some mysterious power of melting into the air, or of re-embodying himself. It was terrifying for the moment, but John shook himself and laughed. "Lightness of foot and silence are the two great as sets in his trade," he said to himself. He wrapped himself in his blanket and again sought sleep which came readily enough despite the distant shots and the flashing white lights. But he was awakened at the first upshoot of dawn, and the whole army was soon on its feet, its front spreading a long distance across the green country. They had hot cof fee and good hot food, and then turned to their duty, John at the same time telling them of the return of Weber, over which both Wharton and Carstairs rejoiced. "It's a good omen," said Carstairs. "We'll take it that way and let it point to our success today." "We need it," muttered Wharton, who was looking through glasses, "and a lot more just as good. If I don't make any mistake the German nation is advancing against us in a solid mass." Carstairs had observed the same fact. "They seem to be quite numerous," he said. "Now's your chance," said John, "to prove not only that one Englishman is as good as any other two Europeans, but as good as four." "Looks like it," said Carstairs coolly. "I'm bound to admit that we can get all the fighting we want. But our men are ready and willing. Listen to the bagpipes of those Highlanders." "Sounds more like a dirge," said Wharton. "A dirge for the other fellows." "Do they keep their legs bare so they can run fast?" "Yes, after the enemy." John smiled. "You're true blue, Carstairs, old fellow," he said. ""What do you see, Wharton?" "Germans, Germans, and then more Germans. Germans on the right, Germans on the left, and Germans in the center, always Germans. They're advancing by kingdoms, grand dukedoms, dukedoms and principalities. The whole circle of the horizon is gray with them." The three were mounted and ready for orders. Aloft swung the aeroplanes and over the hostile front hovered those of the Germans also. John had little to do, but, as he rode slowly back and forth with the others, he heard the light talk and the jesting among these troops who spoke English. Although he knew that they underrated the danger he was proud df them, and he remembered that his transplanted blood and theirs were the same. His eyes turned back to the gray sea, coming for ward like the tide across the open fields. It's edge was yet far away, but the sunlight was so bright and the columns so deep that he saw them plainly. As in the battle with the French they made upon him the impression of irresistible strength. He saw too that their tremendous line would overlap the British on both left and right, and he was assailed by a sudden and deadly fear that they stood in the presence of the invincible. But his strong will took command of his imaginative mind, and his face seemed calm as he sat on his horse with the others and watched the advancing foe. Rifles were already crackling in the valleys between, where the pickets were seeking the lives of one an other, and now came the deep, rumbling thunder of the giant cannon as they threw their shells from a range of eight or ten miles. When a shell burst there was a crash like that of a volcano in eruption, great cavities were torn in the earth, and men fell in dozens. Vast clouds of smoke from the monster guns began to drift against the horizon, but nearer where the smaller guns were at work only light white clouds ap peared. The advancing German army was a semicircle of fire. From every point the field batteries opened, making a steady crash so frightful and violent that it seemed to rend the earth. But above their roar the eruption of the colossal cannon in the rear could be heard now, and shells of immense weight struck and burst in the English lines. Along the whole British front the cannon were replying, and the roar reached incredible proportions. Noxious fumes too filled the air. Gases seemed to be released and the air was heavy and poisonous in the lungs. War had taken on a new aspect, "one more sinister and menacing than the old. The shock from the great guns became so terrific that John tore little pieces from the lining of his coat and stuffed them in his ears, in fear lest he should be made deaf forever. He did it surreptitiously, until he saw others doing the same, and then he put in more. Many of the troops were lying down now. Others were kneeling, but everywhere the officers stood up or sat their horses, reckless of death. The rifle firing had ceased, because the pickets and skirmishers of both were driven in, and the masses on the two sides were not yet near enough to each other for that weapon. But the cannon, hundreds and hundreds of them were pouri ng forth two storms of death. The British position was raked through and through by the fire of a thousand guns. Shrapnel seemed to rain from the clouds scattering death and wounds everywhere. The air was filled with its ferocious whine like that of a hurricane. John, having no messages to carry, continued to watch the German advance. He had no doubt that thousands had already fallen before the hostile fire, but he could see no break in that living gray line. It came steadily on, solid, tremendous and, again he felt that it was impossible to stay it. "The field telephone brings news that the French on our right miles away are engaged also!" shouted Wharton. "That doesn't concern us!" John shouted back. "Look what's coming, a million Germans at least!" The shrapnel whined terribly over his head and his horse fell, but he sprang clear. "My horse is killed!" he cried. "So's mine," said Carstairs, as he picked himself from the grass. Wharton's was hurt by the same deadly shower and he dismounted to examine his wound, but the horse maddened by pain and fright broke loose and ran to ward the German lines. Before he had gone far a shell swept him away in fragments. John thought they were safer on foot, but his fear began to leave as the madness of battle seized him. He had the curious but not uncommon feeling in a soldier that the whole hostile army was firing at him alone. His heart swelled with indignation, and his hair bristled with anger. Snatching up the rifle of a fallen man he stood, ready to use it, when the gray line came within fair range. Carstairs and Wharton shouted something to him, but he could not hear the words. He merely saw their lips moving. The crash had become so tremendous that voices were inaudible. John was now quite certain that if he had not put the lint in his ears he would have become deaf forever. But both Wharton and Carstairs seized him and dragged him down. Wharton, through his glasses, had noticed that new German batteries were coming into action, and their fire would converge upon the place, where they stood. As they lay almost flat behind a little ridge the shrapnel began to shriek over their heads with in creased violence. Many men behind them were killed and a stream of wounded dragged themselves toward the rear. The giant shells also fell among them, spreading death over wide areas. The hideous smell of fumes and gases spread. The air seemed poisoned. The rifles now opened fire, and the air was filled with singing steel. The little bullets flew in millions, cutting down men, bushes, grass, everything. John and his comrades using the ridge for shelter fired their own weapons as fast as they could pull the trigger. He did not know how Carstairs and Wharton had obtained their rifles, but plenty were lying about for the taking. As the German lines drew nearer John saw the men falling in hundreds. Their ranks were swept by shell, shrapnel and the unceasing storm of bullets, but the gray hosts, a quarter of a million strong, passing over the dying and the dead, always swept on, their generals eager to cut off and destroy the English army where it stood. As they marched vast bodies of troops t
hundered out "The Watch on the Rhine," or "A Mighty Fortress is our God." Now and then a strain of the song came to John's ears on the roar of the battle. The gray sea was coming nearer, ever nearer. Losses, however large, were nothing to the Germans. Their generals led them on straight into the face of the British fire, and John gasped as if all that tremendous weight were about to be hurled upon his own chest. The British fire doubled, tripled. The German line wavered, steadied itself and came on again. Then John saw a flash extending along their own front, and he and his comrades sprang to their feet. He saw an officer give an order and then with a tremendous shout the men, their line bristling with steel, rushed forward. John heard the shrapnel and bullets shrieking and whistling among them, but he was untouched. Whether there was any bayonet on the end of his rifle he did not know, but he was running forward with the others, and then he was in the center of a vast red whirlwind, in which the faces of men shone and steel glittered. Cannon and rifles crashed, and there was a great shouting, but the Germans at last reeled and gave back before the bayonet. A tremendous roar of cheers came from the British line, and for a little space there was a comparative lull in the thunder of the battle. John heard a Highland brigade singing some wild song, and near him the Irish were pouring forth a fierce, wailing note. Wharton and Carstairs were still by his side, unharmed. "The bayonet after all is the weapon for close quar ters! It takes a good man to stand the cold steel!" shouted Carstairs. "So it does!" John shouted back, "but they've stopped for only a few moments! They're gathering anew!" "And we're here waiting for them! But I wish there were more of us!" John echoed the wish. He saw the German army advancing again or at least enough of it to know that it could overpower the defense. The Germans were as brave as anybody and under their iron disci pline they would come without ceasing. He borrowed Wharton's glasses, and also saw the vast overlapping lines to right and left. A great fear was born in his heart that the German effort would succeed, that the British army would be surrounded and destroyed. But he handed the glasses back to Wharton without a word. The battle swelled anew. The German generals reformed their lines and the hosts poured forward again, reckless of losses. The defense met them with a ter rible fire and charged again and again with the bayonet. For hours the battle raged and thundered over the hills and valleys, and the British line still held, but it was cut up, bleeding at every pore, and to right and left the horns of the long German crescent were slowly creeping around either flank. John from his place on a hill saw well and he knew that their position was growing extremely dangerous. It seemed to him that the German threat would certainly be carried out, unless help came from the French. Late in the day he was on horseback again, carrying a message from a general to any French commander whom he could reach, urging immediate help. Hehad left Wharton and Carstairs on the battle line, and the horse was that of a slain colonel. Gaining the rear, where the weight of the fire would not reach him John galloped toward the right, passing through a small wood, and then emerging upon a field, in which wheat had stood. As his blood cooled a little he slowed his speed for a moment or two, and took a look at the battle which was spread over a vast area. He was appalled by the spectacle of all those belching cannon, and of men falling like grass before the mower. A continuous flash and roar came from a front of miles, and he saw well that the German host could not be stopped. He galloped toward the right, but it seemed to him that distance did not cause any decrease in the crash and roar. Either his imagination supplied it, or the battle was increasing in violence. He rode on, and then a new sound greeted him. It was the thunder of another battle, or rather a link in the chain of battles. He was approaching the position of a French army which had been assailed with a fury equal to that from which the British suffered. John was merely one of many messengers and the French commander smiled grimly when he read hfs dispatch. "Look!" he said, pointing a long arm. John saw another vast gray host, rolling forward, crushing and invincible. At some points the French had already lost ground, and they were fighting a desperate, but losing battle. No help could come from them, and he believed that the French armies farther east were in the same mortal danger. John received his return dispatch. He knew nothout the telling what was in it. The French would certainly urge the British to fall back. If they did not do so they would be lost, the French line in its turn would be crumpled up, and France was conquered. It was given to John, a youth, as he rode back in the red light of the late sun, to know that a crisis of the world was at hand. He was imaginative. He had read much and now he saw. It struck upon him like a flash of lightning. Along that vast front in face of the French armies and the British there must be a million troops, armed and trained as no other troops ever were, and driven forward by a military autocracy which unceasingly had taught the doctrine, that might is right. The kings, the princes, the dukes and the generals who believed it was their right to rule the world were out there, and it was their hour. By morning they might be masters of Europe. He had all the clear vision of a young prophet. He saw the sword and cannon triumphant, and he saw the menace to his own land. He shuddered and turned cold, but in a minute warmth returned to his body and he galloped back with the message. Others had returned with messages like his own, and, giving up his horse, he rejoined his comrades. Carstairs and Wharton were gloomy. The ground that had been the front line of the British was now under the German foot. The German weight, irresistible in appearance, had proved so in fact, and far to left and right those terrible horns were pushing farther and farther around the flanks. John now saw the German army as a gigantic devil fish enveloping its prey. "What did you find, John?" shouted Carstairs. "I found a French army pressed as hard as our own, and I heard that farther to the east other French armies were being driven with equal fury." "Looks as if we might have to retreat." "It will soon be a question, whether or not we can retreat. The Germans are now on both our flanks." Carstairs' face blanched a little, but he refused to show discouragement. "They're telling us to retire now," he said, "but we'll come again. England will never give up. John, your own transplanted British blood ought to tell you that." "It does tell me so, but when I was riding across the hills I saw better than you can see here. If we don't get away now we never shall, and England and France cannot regain what they will have lost." But the British army was withdrawing. Those ter rible horns had not quite closed in. They were beaten back with shell, bullets and bayonets, and slowly and sullenly, giving blow for blow the British army retreated into France. John and his comrades were with a small force on the extreme left, almost detached from the main body, serving partly as a line of defense and partly as a strong picket. They stopped at times to rest a little and eat food that was served to them, but the Germans never ceased to press them. Their searchlights flashed all through the night and their shell and shrapnel searched the woods and fields. "It's no little war," said Carstairs. "And I tell you again," said Wharton, "that Eng land must wake up. A hundred thousand volunteers are nothing in this war. She must send a half million, a million and more. Germany has nearly seventy million people and nearly every able-bodied man is a trained soldier. Think of that." "I'm thinking of it. What I saw today makes me think of it a lot. Jove, how they did come, and what numbers they have!" A huge shell passed screaming over their heads and burst far beyond them. But they did not jump. They had heard so much sound of cannon that day that their ears were dulled by it. "It's evident that they haven't given up hope of cutting us off," said Wharton, "since they push the pursuit Jn the night." "And they'll be at it again as hard as ever in the morning," said John. "We'll see those horns of the crescent still pushing forward. They mean to get us. They mean to smash up everything here in a month, and then go back and get Russia." The firing went on until long past midnight. To ward morning they slept a little in a field, but when day came they saw the gray masses still in pursuit- All day long the terrible retreat went on, the defense fighting fiercely, but slowly withdrawing, the Germans pressing hard, and always seeking to envelop their flanks. There was continual danger
that the army would be lost, but no dismay. Cool and determined the defense never relaxed, and all the time bent to the right to get in touch with the French who were retreating also. It was a gloomy day for John. Like most Amer icans his feeling for France had always been sympathetic. France had helped his own country in the crisis of her existence, and France was a free republic which for a generation had strictly minded its own business. Yet this beautiful land seemed destined to be trodden under foot again by the Germans, and the French might soon cease to exist as a great nation. French and English together had merely checked the German host for a few hours. It had swept both out of its way and was coming again, as sure and deadly as ever. They did not hear until the next day that the French and English armies were already in touch, and while still driven back it was not probable that they could be cut apart, and then be surrounded and destroyed in detail. John felt a mighty joy. That crisis in the world's history had passed and by the breadth of a hair the mili tary autocracy had missed its chance. Yet what the German hour had failed to bring might come with slow time, and his joy disappeared as they were driven back farther and farther into France. Thus the retreat continued for days and nights. Carstairs was the most cheerful of the three. They had slipped from the trap, and, as he saw it, England was merely getting ready for a victory. "You wait until our second army comes up," he said, "and then we'll give the Germans a jolly good licking." "When is it coming up?" asked John. "In this century or the next?" "Be patient. You Yankees are always in too much of a hurry." "I'm not in such a hurry to get to Paris, but it seems that we'll soon be there if we keep on at the rate we're going." "You could be in a worse place than Paris. It's had quite a reputation in its time. Full of life, gayety, color. I'll be glad to see Paris." "So will the Germans, and if we don't do better than we've been doing they'll see it just about as soon as we do." Carstairs refused to be discouraged, and John hoped anew that the armies would be able to turn. But he hoped against what he knew to be the facts. They were driven on mile after mile by the vast German force. Another night came, after a day of the desperate retreat and powerful pursuit. John and his comrades by some miracle had escaped all wounds, but they were almost dead from anxiety and exhaustion. Their hearts too were sinking lower and lower. They saw the beautiful country trampled under foot, villages destroyed, everything given to ruin and the peasants in despair fleeing before the resistless rush of the enemy. "John," said Carstairs, "you know Unter den Linden, don't you?" "Yes, it's a fine street." "So I've heard. Broad enough for the return of a triumphal army, isn't it?" "Just suited to the purpose." "Well, I don't know whether the Germans will go back to the old Roman customs, but I want to tell you right here that I won't be a captive adorning their triumphal procession." "How are you going to keep from it?" "I'll get myself shot first. No, I won't! I'll see that they don't have a chance for any such triumph! I and a million others." "I feel like despairing myself sometimes," said John gravely, "and then I say to myself : 'what's the use!' I don't mean to give up, even when the Germans are in Paris." "Well spoken," said Wharton, who was lying on his back in the grass. "All is not lost yet by a long shot. When our army drew out of their clutches their first great stroke failed. Who knows what will happen to their second?" They were still on the extreme left of the Allied line, forming a sort of loose fringe there, but their comrades on. the right were only a few hundred yards away. They heard in front the scattered firing of the pickets and skirmishers which continued day and night, while the searchlights of the pursuers winked and winked, and, at far intervals, a mighty shell crashed somewhere near. There was a pause in the retreat and John also lay down on the grass. At first he was flat on his back, and then he turned over on his side. His ear touched the earth, and he heard a sound that made him spring to his feet in alarm. "Horses!" he cried. "It must be the Uhlans!" They saw lances gleaming through the dusk, and then with a rush and a shout the Uhlans were upon them. John sprang to one side, dodging the sweep of a sabre, and firing his rifle at the man who wielded it. He did not have time to see whether or not he fell, be cause the little camp, in an instant, was the scene of ter rible turmoil and confusion, a wild medley of shouting men and rearing horses. Instinctively he rushed to one side, dodging the thrust of a lance, receiving a blow from the butt of another on his head, but finally coming clear of the tumult. The lance blow had made him see stars, and he could not think or see clearly now. He had dropped his rifle, but he remembered his automatic, and drawing it he began to fire into the mass of horses and horsemen. Then a lancer rode at him with poised weapon. He fired at him, leaped aside and ran through some bushes, intending to come around on the other flank. But the dizziness in his head increased and his sight became dimmer. The whole world suddenly turned black, and he felt himself falling through space. CHAPTER XV THE GIANT GUN WHEN John came back to the world he was conscious of a painful throbbing in his head, and that he was lying in a very awkward position. He seemed to be doubled up with his feet nearly as high as his head. Around him were narrow, earthy walls, but above him was a sky full of stars. "Well, if I'm dead," he muttered, "they certainly didn't take the trouble to bury me very well. I didn't know it was the fashion in this country to leave tombs open." But he felt too weak and languid to "unbury" him self, and lay for a little while in this awkward position. He saw the same circle of peaceful sky, but he heard nothing. The Uhlans, whose rush he faintly remembered, evidently had passed on. He rubbed his head where the throbbing was most acute and felt a big lump there. But his skull was not fractured. He felt of it gingerly, and it seemed to be as solid as ever. He lay a little while longer and made an effort. Slowly and painfully he straightened himself out and stood up. His head rose considerably above the edge of the hole, in which he had lain, and he saw a country free from troops, where he stood. But he heard be yond him in the direction of Paris the flashing and roaring which had been going on for days. The German army had marched over him, and for some mysterious reason had left him there. John looked at the hole in which he stood. It was not more than three or four feet across and at the bottom lay his automatic, which he was glad to find, as he had plenty of cartridges left in his belt. But how had such a queer place happened to be there? And how had he come to be in it? He rubbed his hand several times across his face. The throbbing in his head was becoming less acute. Evidently he had been there a iong time, as he saw a faint touch of daylight in the east. He drew himself out of the hole, saw some pieces of metal lying near and then knew the truth. One of the giant shells striking there had made the cavity and luckily for him he had fallen into it. The German cavalry riding by in the night had passed him, unseeing. "I never expected one of those big shells to be so kind to me," murmured John. He drew himself out of the hole, and flexed and tensed his muscles until his physical vigor returned. The throbbing in his head continued to decrease, and he felt confident and cheerful. He began to believe that a special Providence was watching over him. If a giant shell, intended to destroy his comrades and himself, merely made a safe hiding place for him while the triumphant legions stalked past then he was in deed a favorite child of fortune. It was early dawn and the air was very crisp and fresh. He drew deep breaths of it, and continually ^rew stronger. Far to the southwest he saw a long, white line of smoke, and beneath it the rapid flash of many great guns. The horizon thundered. It was the pursuing German army, and John sighed. "Still on the road to Paris," he murmured. He wondered what had become of his comrades in that wild charge of the Uhlans in the night, but his was a most hopeful nature, and since they had escaped he must have done so too. Moreover, fortune as he had observed was watching over them as well as him self. Safe therefore in supposition they slipped from his mind. He stood for a little space watching the line of battle, as it rolled off toward the southwest and then he looked at the ground about him, the lovely country torn to pieces by the armies. He had resented some times that attitude of superiority assumed by Europeans, but here was Europe gone mad. Americans were sane and sensible. No military monarchs or m
ilitary autocracies could drag them into wholesale war. It was the spectacle spread before him that caused John to condemn Europe for the moment. The armies had passed on, but all about him lay the dead. Most of them had been torn horribly by shells and shrapnel, while some had met a quick death from the bullets. He saw the gray of the Germans and the khaki of the English often close together. Two or three shattered cannon also lay in the fields, and abandoned guns were numerous. Here and there were overturned wagons a^d in one of them he found food. After eating he sat down and considered. His momentary feeling of revulsion had passed. He was heart and soul for the Franco-British cause, and he meant to rejoin the army. If he could not find his own company of the Strangers he would go with the British again. But the direction in which he must go was obvious. To Paris. Everything was going to ward Paris now, because the German army was driving that way. He resolved upon a great curve to the right which would take him around the invading force, and then flight with the others to the capital. He knew that he must act quickly, his decision once taken. German reserves or bands of cavalry might come up at any moment. He found a rifle beside one of the fallen soldiers, and cartridges in his belt. He did not hesitate to approp .Ate them and he walked swiftly toward a little wood on his right, where he drank at a brook and bathed his face and wound. He was never cooler, and his mind was rever more acute. He calculated that at the present rate of decrease his headache would all be gone by night, and by that time also he would pass the right flank of the German army. A man walking could not go so very fast, but at least he could go as fast as an army, impeded by another army still intact. Choosing his course he followed it without swerving for a long time, keeping as well as he could in the shadow of woods and hedges. The day was as beau tiful as any that he had seen, flecks of white on a background of blue and a pleasant coolness. The in habitants of the villages had fled, but several times he saw small bands of Uhlans. Then he would drop down in the trampled grass, and wait until they passed out of sight. But he feared most the watchers of the sky. He saw monoplanes, biplanes, Taubes, and every kind of flying machine soaring over the German army. Once he heard the rattle of a Zeppelin, and he saw the monstrous thing, a true dragon flying very close to the ground. Then he crept farther under the hedge, and lay flat, until it was miles away in the southwest In the afternoon he found a cottage in the forest, still occupied by a sturdy couple who believed that France was not yet lost. They gave him food, made up more for him, putting it in a knapsack which he could carry on his back, and refused to take any pay. "You are young, you are American, and you have come so far to fight for France," the man said. "It would be a crime for us to take your money." They also dressed his bruise which the peasant said would disappear entirely in a day or two, and then as John was telling them adieu the woman suddenly kissed him on i:he forehead. "Farewell, young stranger who fights tor France. The prayers of an old woman are worth as much in the sight of God as the prayers of an emperor, and mine may protect you." Late in the afternoon John saw the battle thicken. The earth quivered under his feet with the roll of the cannon, and the German line moved forward much more slowly. It allowed him to gain in his own great, private flanking movement. At twilight he rested a while and ate supper. Then he pushed forward all through the night, and in the morning he saw flying just above the trees an aeroplane which he recognized as the Arrow. Shouting tremendously he attracted at last the at tention of Lannes who dropped slowly to the ground. The young Frenchman was overjoyed, and, in his in tense enthusiasm wanted to embrace him. But John laughingly would not allow it. Instead they shook hands violently again and again. But after the first gladness of meeting Lannes was mournful. "I have seen your friends Carstairs and Wharton," he said, "and they are unhurt, but the German flood moves on. Only a miracle can save Paris. My errand takes me there. Come, you shall have another flight with me, and we shall see together, for perhaps the last time, that Paris, that city of light, that crown of Europe, that fountain of civilization." "I, an American, still hope for Paris." "Then I do too." John put on the coat and visor that Lannes gave him, and they took their seats. The Arrow rose slowly, and John, with his visor and his clothing adjusted carefully for speed and the colder air of the upper regions, settled in his place. He felt an extraordinary sense of relief and comfort. In the air he had a wonderful trust in Lannes, the most daring of all the flying men of France, which perhaps meant the most daring in the world. He leaned back in his seat, and watched the strong arm and shoulders and steady hand of his comrade. Again Lannes in the Arrow was a master musician playing on the keys of a piano. The Arrow responded to his slightest touch, rising swooping and darting. John, after the long and terrible tension of so many days, released his mind from all responsibility. He was no longer the leader, and he did not have any doubt that Lannes would take him, where he ought to go. His feeling of ease deepened into one of luxury. They did not rise very high at present, and John could still catch glimpses of the world below which was now a sort of blurred green, houses and streams failing to show. They sailed easily and Joht. told much of what had befallen him and his comrades, Carstairs the English man and Wharton the American. "The British army came within a hair's breadth of destruction," he said, "and I'm not so sure that it will escape yet." "Oh yes it will," said Lannes, "after it once formed the junction with our own army and they were able to retreat in a solid line the great chance of the Germans to strike the most deadly blow of modern times passed. And I tell you again that the French Repub lic of 1914 is far different from the French Empire of 1870. We have the fire, the enthusiasm, and the strength that the First French Republic commanded. We are not prepared that's why the Germans are rushing over us now but we will be prepared. Nor is our nature excitable and despondent, as people have so often charged. Even though our capital be removed to Bordeaux we'll not despair. Using your own phrase, we'll 'come again.' ' "What, has Paris been abandoned?" "They're talking of it. But John, look toward the east!" The Arrow had dropped down low, toward a wood, until it almost lay against the tops of the trees, blending with their leaves. Lannes pointed with the finger of his free hand, after passing his glasses to John. John saw puffs of flame and white smoke, and the dim outline of masses of men in gray, moving for ward. From another line farther west came the blaze of many cannon. "Our men are making a stand," said Lannes. "Per haps it's to gain time. But whatever the reason, you and I hope it will be successful." "And we may save our Paris," said John. He was not conscious that he used the pronoun "our." He had become so thoroughly identified with the cause for which he fought that it seemed natural. The battle deepened in fury and volume. Although far away John felt the air quivering with the roar of the great cannonade. They rose somewhat higher and each took his turn at the glasses. John was awed by the spectacle. As far as he could see, and he could see far, men, perhaps a half million of them, were engaged in mortal struggle. The whole country seemed to roar and blaze and innumerable manikins moved over the hills and valleys. Above the thunder of thjs battle rose a mighty crash that sent the air roiling in circular waves. The Arrow quivered and then Lannes dropped it down several hundred yards, in order that they might get a better view. "It's one of their giant guns, a 42 cent imeter," he said, "and it's posted on that hill over to our right. I didn't think they could bring so big a gun in the pur suit, but it seems that they have been able to do so." "And it's plumping shells more than a ton in weight, right into the middle of the Franco-British army." "It would seem so, and doubtless they're doing ter rible destruction." John was silent for a moment or two. He had felt an inspiration. It was a terrible and dangerous impulse, but he meant to act upon it. "Philip," he said, "have you any bombs with you?" "A good supply, John. But why?" "I propose that you and I fly over the mammoth gun and blow it up." Lannes turned a little in his seat, and stared at his comrade. "I hold that against you," he said. "Why?" "Because I didn't think of it first. I'm considered reckless, and it's the sort of enterprise that ought to have occurred to me. Instead the idea comes to you, a res
erved and conservative sort of a fellow. But John, you and I will try it. We'll either blow up that gun or die for France. Search the heavens with the glasses, and see if any of the German flyers are near." "There are some dots far off toward the east, but I don't think they're near enough to interfere with us." "Then we'll try for the gun at once. We've got to sink low to be sure of our aim, and for that reason, John, I'm going to ask you to drop the bombs, while I steer. But don't do it, until I say ready because I mean to go pretty close to the 'Busy Bertha.'" "Good enough," said John, as Lannes passed him the bombs. His hand was perfectly steady and so was that of Lannes on the steering rudder, as they made a gentle curve toward the point, from which the mighty crash had come. John knew that the bombs would not make a destructive impression upon those vast tubes of steel, but he hoped to strike the caisson or ammunition supply behind, and blow up one or two of the shells themselves, involving everything in a common ruin. But to do so he knew that they must fly very low, exposing themselves t the danger of return fire from the Germans. "I can see the gun now," said Lannes. "The gun ners are all around it, and infantry with rifles are near, but I'm going to make a swoop within five hundred feet of it. Whenever we're directly over it drop two of the bombs. It may be, it's most likely in fact, that neither will hit, but I'll swoop down again and again, until we do, unless they get us first." "I'm ready," said John, who had steeled every nerve, "and I'll do my best." He felf the rush of air as the Arrow increased her speed, and shot downward in a slanting curve, and he heard also a shout from below, as the sinister shadow of the aeroplane showed black between the gunners and the sky. He leaned over and watched. He saw hundreds of eyes turned upward, and he heard the crackle of many rifles, as they sent their bullets toward the Arrow. Some whistled near, but the darting target, high in air, was hard to hit and none touched it. John paid no heed to the bullets, but watched the huge cannon with its monstrous mouth upturned at a sharp angle to the sky. When he thought they were directly over it he hurled two of the bombs at the caisson, but they missed. They struck among the men, and several were killed, but the gun and its equipment remained unharmed. "Never mind," said Lannes, knowing that John felt chagrin. "You came pretty close for a first trial. Now, ready, I'm going to swoop back again." The second attempt was not quite as good as the first, and a bullet tipped John's ear, drawing blood. Off in the east the black specks were growing larger, and they knew but little time was left to them now. The German aeroplanes were coming. The third swoop and with an eye and hand in per fect accord John threw once and then twice. A ter rific roar came from below. The giant cannon had been blown from its concrete bed and lay a vast mass of shattered steel and iron, with dead and dying men around it. "One mighty blow for France!" exclaimed Lannes, and exultant they flew westward, dipping low, now and then behind the trees to hide their flight. "We'll consider it a good omen," said John. "Are any of the Taubes pursuing now?" said Lannes. "There's nothing in sight," replied John, after a long examination through the glasses. "Then, they can't find us," exclaimed Lannes, joy fully, "and now for glorious Paris!" THE END