Part 2 (1/2)
That night at 11 p.m. d.i.c.k stepped out of another car into a ploughed field just behind the little village of Woesten, and, having trodden on his major's face and unearthed his servant, lay down by the dying fire to get what sleep he could. Now and again a horse whinnied near by; a bit rattled, a man cursed; for the unit was ready to move at a moment's notice and the horses were saddled up. The fire died out--from close by a battery was firing, and the sky was dancing with the flashes of bursting sh.e.l.ls like summer lightning flickering in the distance. And with his head on a sharp stone and another in his back d.i.c.k O'Rourke fell asleep and dreamed of--but dreams are silly things to describe. It was just as he'd thrown the hors-d'oeuvres at the head-waiter of Ciro's, who had suddenly become the hated German rival, and was wiping the potato salad off Moyra's face, which it had hit by mistake, with the table-cloth, that with a groan he turned on his other side--only to exchange the stones for a sardine tin and a broken pickle bottle. Which is really no more foolish than the rest of life nowadays....
And now for a moment I must go back and, leaving our hero, describe shortly the events that led up to the sending of the wire that recalled him.
Early in the morning of April 22nd the Germans launched at that part of the French line which lay in front of the little villages of Elverdinge and Brielen, a yellowish-green cloud of gas, which rolled slowly over the intervening ground between the trenches, carried on its way by a faint, steady breeze. I do not intend to describe the first use of that infamous invention--it has been done too often before. But, for the proper understanding of what follows, it is essential for me to go into a few details. Utterly unprepared for what was to come, the French divisions gazed for a short while spellbound at the strange phenomenon they saw coming slowly towards them. Like some liquid the heavy-coloured vapour poured relentlessly into the trenches, filled them, and pa.s.sed on. For a few seconds nothing happened; the sweet-smelling stuff merely tickled their nostrils; they failed to realise the danger. Then, with inconceivable rapidity, the gas worked, and blind panic spread.
Hundreds, after a dreadful fight for air, became unconscious and died where they lay--a death of hideous torture, with the frothing bubbles gurgling in their throats and the foul liquid welling up in their lungs.
With blackened faces and twisted limbs one by one they drowned--only that which drowned them came from inside and not from out. Others, staggering, falling, lurching on, and of their ignorance keeping pace with the gas, went back. A hail of rifle-fire and shrapnel mowed them down, and the line was broken. There was nothing on the British left--their flank was up in the air. The north-east corner of the salient round Ypres had been pierced. From in front of St. Julian, away up north towards Boesienge, there was no one in front of the Germans.
It is not my intention to do more than mention the rus.h.i.+ng up of the cavalry corps and the Indians to fill the gap; the deathless story of the Canadians who, surrounded and hemmed in, fought till they died against overwhelming odds; the fate of the Northumbrian division--fresh from home--who were rushed up in support, and the field behind Fortuin where they were caught by shrapnel, and what was left. These things are outside the scope of my story. Let us go back to the gap.
Hard on the heels of the French came the Germans advancing. For a mile or so they pushed on, and why they stopped when they did is--as far as I am concerned--one of life's little mysteries. Perhaps the utter success of their gas surprised even them; perhaps they antic.i.p.ated some trap; perhaps the incredible heroism of the Canadians in hanging up the German left caused their centre to push on too far and lose touch; perhaps--but, why speculate? I don't know, though possibly those in High Places may. The fact remains they did stop; their advantage was lost and the situation was saved.
Such was the state of affairs when O'Rourke opened his eyes on the morning of Sat.u.r.day, April 24th. The horses were dimly visible through the heavy mist, his blankets were wringing wet, and hazily he wondered why he had ever been born. Then the cook dropped the bacon in the fire, and he groaned with anguish; visions of yesterday's grilled kidneys and hot coffee rose before him and mocked. By six o'clock he had fed, and sitting on an overturned biscuit-box beside the road he watched three batteries of French 75's pa.s.s by and disappear in the distance. At intervals he longed to meet the man who invented war. It must be remembered that, though I have given the situation as it really was, for the better understanding of the story, the facts at the time were not known at all clearly. The fog of war still wrapped in oblivion--as far as regimental officers were concerned, at any rate--the events which were taking place within a few miles of them.
When, therefore, d.i.c.k O'Rourke perceived an unshaven and unwashed warrior, garbed as a gunner officer, coming down the road from Woesten, and, moreover, recognised him as one of his own term at the ”Shop,”
known to his intimates as the Land Crab, he hailed him with joy.
”All hail, oh, crustacean!” he cried, as the other came abreast of him.
”Whither dost walk so blithely?”
”Halloa, d.i.c.k!” The gunner paused. ”You haven't seen my major anywhere, have you?”
”Not that I'm aware of, but as I don't know your major from Adam, my evidence may not be reliable. What news from the seat of war?”
”None that I know of--except this cursed gun, that is rapidly driving me to drink.”
”What cursed gun? I am fresh from Ciro's and the haunts of love and ease. Expound to me your enigma, my Land Crab.”
”Haven't you heard? When the Germans----”
He stopped suddenly. ”Listen!” Perfectly clear from the woods to the north of them--the woods that lie to the west of the Woesten-Oostvleteren road, for those who may care for maps--there came the distinctive boom! crack! of a smallish gun. Three more shots, and then silence. The gunner turned to d.i.c.k.
”There you are--that's the gun.”
”But how nice! Only, why curse it?”
”Princ.i.p.ally because it's German; and those four shots that you have just heard have by this time burst in Poperinghe.”
”What!” O'Rourke looked at him in amazement. ”Is it my leg you would be pulling?”
”Certainly not. When the Germans came on in the first blind rush after the French two small guns on motor mountings got through behind our lines. One was completely wrecked with its detachment The motor mounting of the other you can see lying in a pond about a mile up the road. The gun is there.” He pointed to the wood.
”And the next!” said O'Rourke. ”D'you mean to tell me that there is a German gun in that wood firing at Poperinghe? Why, hang it, man! it's three miles behind our lines.”
”Taking the direction those sh.e.l.ls are coming from, the distance from Poperinghe to that gun must be more than ten miles--if the gun is behind the German trenches. Your gunnery is pretty rotten, I know, but if you know of any two-inch gun that shoots ten miles, I'll be obliged if you'll give me some lessons.” The gunner lit a cigarette. ”Man, we know it's not one of ours, we know where they all are; we know it's a Hun.”
”Then, what in the name of fortune are ye standing here for talking like an ould woman with the indigestion? Away with you, and lead us to him, and don't go chivying after your bally major.” d.i.c.k shouted for his revolver. ”If there's a gun in that wood, bedad! we'll gun it.”
”My dear old flick,” said the other, ”don't get excited. The woods have been searched with a line of men--twice; and devil the sign of the gun.