Part 6 (1/2)

”A battery of heavies,” said F.

Even as he spoke the four puffs burst forth again and upon exactly the same ground.

At this juncture a head appeared over the parapet behind us and after some talk with F., came one who tendered us a pair of binoculars, by whose aid I made out the British new line of trenches which had once been German. So I stood, dry-mouthed, to watch the burst of those huge sh.e.l.ls exploding upon our British line. Fascinated, I stared until F.'s hand on my arm aroused me, and returning the gla.s.ses with a hazy word of thanks I followed my companions, though often turning to watch the shooting which now I thought much too good.

And now we were traversing the great battlefield where, not long since, so many of our bravest had fallen that Britain might still be Britain. Even yet, upon its torn and trampled surface I could read something of the fight--here a broken shoulder belt, there a cartridge pouch, yonder a stained and tattered coat, while everywhere lay bombs, English and German.

”If you want to see La Boiselle properly we must hurry!” said F., and off he went at the double with K.'s long legs striding beside him, but, as for me, I must needs turn for one last look where those deadly smoke puffs came and went with such awful regularity.

The rain had stopped, but it was three damp and mud-spattered wretches who clambered back into the waiting car.

”K.,” said I, as we removed our c.u.mbrous headgear, ”about how much do you suppose these things weigh?”

”Fully a ton!” he answered, jerking his cap over his eyes and scowlingly accepting a cigarette.

Very soon the shattered village was far behind and we were threading a devious course between huge steam-tractors, guns, motor-lorries and more guns. We pa.s.sed soldiers a-horse and a-foot and long strings of ambulance cars; to right and left of the road were artillery parks and great camps, that stretched away into the distance. Here also were vast numbers of the ubiquitous motor-lorry with many three-wheeled tractors for the big guns. We sped past hundreds of horses picketed in long lines; past countless tents smeared crazily in various coloured paints; past huts little and huts big; past swamps knee-deep in mud where muddy men were taking down or setting up other tents. On we sped through all the confused order of a mighty army, until, chancing to raise my eyes aloft, I beheld a huge balloon, which, as I watched, mounted up and up into the air.

”One of our sausages!” said F., gloved hand waving. ”Plenty of 'em round here; see, there's another in that cloud, and beyond it another.”

So for a while I rode with my eyes turned upwards, and thus I presently saw far ahead many aeroplanes that flew in strange, zigzag fas.h.i.+on, now swooping low, now climbing high, now twisting and turning giddily.

”Some of our 'planes under fire!” said F., ”you can see the shrapnel bursting all around 'em--there's the smoke--we call 'em woolly bears.

Won't see any Boche 'planes, though--rather not!”

Amidst all these wonders and marvels our fleet car sped on, jolting and lurching violently over ruts, pot-holes and the like until we came to a part of the road where many men were engaged with pick and shovel; and here, on either side of the highway, I noticed many grim-looking heaps and mounds--ugly, shapeless dumps, depressing in their very hideousness. Beside one such unlovely dump our car pulled up, and F., gloved finger pointing, announced:

”The Church of La Boiselle. That heap you see yonder was once the Mairie, and beyond, the schoolhouse. The others were houses and cottages. Oh, La Boiselle was quite a pretty place once. We get out here to visit the guns--this way.”

Obediently I followed whither he led, nothing speaking, for surely here was matter beyond words. Leaving the road, we floundered over what seemed like ash heaps, but which had once been German trenches faced and reinforced by concrete and steel plates. Many of these last lay here and there, awfully bent and twisted, but of trenches I saw none save a few yards here and there half filled with indescribable debris. It was, indeed, a place of horror--a frightful desolation beyond all words. Everywhere about us were signs of dreadful death--they came to one in the very air, in lowering heaven and tortured earth. Far as the eye could reach the ground was pitted with great sh.e.l.l holes, so close that they broke into one another and formed horrid pools full of shapeless things within the slime.

Across this h.e.l.lish waste I went cautiously by reason of torn and twisted tangles of German barbed wire, of hand grenades and huge sh.e.l.ls, of broken and rusty iron and steel that once were deadly machine guns. As I picked my way among all this flotsam, I turned to take up a bayonet, slipped in the slime and sank to my waist in a sh.e.l.l hole--even then I didn't touch bottom, but scrambled out, all grey mud from waist down--but I had the bayonet.

It was in this woeful state that I shook hands with the Major of the battery. And as we stood upon that awful waste, he chattered, I remember, of books. Then, side by side, we came to the battery--four mighty howitzers, that crashed and roared and shook the very earth with each discharge, and whose sh.e.l.ls roared through the air with the rush of a dozen express trains.

Following the Major's directing finger, I fixed my gaze some distance above the muzzle of the nearest gun and, marvel of marvels, beheld that dire messenger of death and destruction rush forth, soaring, upon its way, up and up, until it was lost in cloud. Time after time I saw the huge sh.e.l.ls leap skywards and vanish on their long journey, and stood thus lost in wonder, and as I watched I could not but remark on the speed and dexterity with which the crews handled these monstrous engines.

”Yes,” nodded the Major, ”strange thing is that a year ago they _weren't_, you know--guns weren't in existence and the men weren't gunners--clerks an' all that sort of thing, you know--civilians, what?”

”They're pretty good gunners now--judging by effect!” said I, nodding towards the abomination of desolation that had once been a village.

”Rather!” nodded the Major, cheerily, ”used to think it took three long years to make a gunner once--do it in six short months now!

Pretty good going for old England, what? How about a cup of tea in my dugout?”

But evening was approaching, and having far to go we had perforce to refuse his hospitality and bid him a reluctant good-by.

”Don't forget to take a peep at the mine craters,” said he, and waving a cheery adieu, vanished into his dugout.

Ten minutes' walk, along the road, and before us rose a jagged mount, and beyond it another, uncanny hills, seared and cracked and sinister, up whose steep slopes I scrambled and into whose yawning depths I gazed in awestruck wonder; so deep, so wide and huge of circ.u.mference, it seemed rather the result of some t.i.tanic convulsion of nature than the handiwork of man.