The Red Horizon Part 16

The challenge was almost a whisper, and a bayonet slid out from the trench and paused irresolutely near my stomach.

"A London Irish orderly going down to the village," I answered.

A voice other than that which challenged me spoke: "Why are you alone, there should be two."

"I wasn't aware of that."

"Pa.s.s on," said the second voice, "and be careful, it's not altogether healthy about here."

Somewhere in the proximity of the village I lost the brick path and could not find it again. For a full hour I wandered over the sodden fields under sh.e.l.l fire, discovering the village, a bulk of shadows thinning into a jagged line of chimneys against the black sky when the sh.e.l.ls exploded, and losing it again when the darkness settled down around me. Eventually I stumbled across the road and breathed freely for a second.

But the enemy's fire would not allow me a very long breathing (p. 168) s.p.a.ce, it seemed bent on battering the village to pieces. In front of me ran a broken-down wall, behind it were a number of houses and not a light showing. The road was deserted.

A sh.e.l.l exploded in mid-air straight above, and bullets sang down and shot into the ground round me. Following it came the casing splinters humming like bees, then a second explosion, the whizzing bullets and the bees, another explosion....

"Come along and get out of it," I whispered to myself, and looked along the road; a little distance off I fancied I saw a block of buildings.

"Run!"

I ran, "stampeded!" is a better word, and presently found myself opposite an open door. I flung myself in, tripped, and went prostrate to the floor.

Boom! I almost chuckled, thinking myself secure from the sh.e.l.ls that burst overhead. It was only when the bees bounced on the floor that I looked up to discover that the house was roofless.

I made certain that the next building had a roof before I entered. It also had a door, this I shoved open and found myself amongst a (p. 169) number of horses and warm penetrating odour of dung.

"Now, 3008, you may smoke," I said, addressing myself, and drew out my cigarette case. My matches were quite dry; I lit one and was just putting it to my cigarette when one of the horses began prancing at the other end of the building. I just had a view of the animal coming towards me when the match went out and left me in the total darkness.

I did not like the look of the horse, and I wished that it had been better bound when its master left it. It was coming nearer and now pawing the floor with its hoof. I edged closer to the door; if it were not for the sh.e.l.ls I would go outside. Why was that horse allowed to remain loose in the stable? I tried to light another match, but it snapped in my fingers. The horse was very near me now; I could feel its presence, it made no noise, it seemed to be shod with velvet. The moment was tense, I shouted: "Whoa there, whoa!"

It shot out its hind legs and a pair of hoofs clattered on the wall beside me.

"Whoa, there! whoa there! confound you!" I growled, and was outside in a twinkling and into the arms of a transport sergeant.

"What the devil--'oo are yer?" he blurted out. (p. 170)

"Did you think I was a sh.e.l.l?" I couldn't help asking. "I'm sorry," I continued, "I came in here out of that beastly sh.e.l.ling."

"Very wise," said the sergeant, getting quickly into the stable.

"One of your horses is loose," I said. "Do you know where the London Irish is put up here?"

"Down the road on the right," he told me, "you come to a large gate there on the left and you cross a garden. It's a big buildin'."

"Thank you. Good night."

"Good night, sonny."

I went in by the wrong gate; there were so many on the left, and found myself in a dark spinney where the rain was dripping heavily from the branches of the trees. I was just on the point of turning back to the road when one of our batteries concealed in the place opened fire, and a perfect h.e.l.l of flame burst out around me. I flopped to earth with graceless precipitancy, and wallowed in mud. "It's all up 3008, you've done it now," I muttered, and wondered vaguely whether I was partly or wholly dead. The sharp smell of cordite filled the air and caused (p. 171) a tickling sensation in my throat that almost choked me. When I scrambled to my feet again and found myself uninjured, a strange dexterity had entered my legs; I was outside the gate in the s.p.a.ce of a second.

Ten minutes later I found the sergeant-major, who rose from a blanket on the ground-floor of a pretentious villa with a sh.e.l.l splintered door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The rations had not arrived; they would probably be in by dawn. Had I seen the mine explode? I belonged to the company holding the Keep, did I not? The rumour about the Germans breaking through was a c.o.c.k-and-bull story. Had I any cigarettes? Turkis.h.!.+ Not bad for a change. Good luck, sonny! Take care of yourself going back.

I came in line with the rear trench on my way back.

"Who's there?" came a voice from the line of little cigarette lights.

"A London Irish orderly--going home!" I answered, and a laugh rewarded my ironical humour.

"Jolly luck to be able to return home," I said to myself when I got past. "3008, you weren't very brave to-night. By Jove, you did (p. 172) hop into that roofless house and scamper out of that spinney! In fact, you did not s.h.i.+ne as a soldier at all. You've not been particularly afraid of sh.e.l.l fire before, but to-night! Was it because you were alone you felt so very frightened? You've found out you've been posing a little before. Alone you're really a coward."

I felt a strange delight in saying these things; the firing had ceased; it was still raining heavily.

"Remember the bridge at Suicide Corner," I said, alluding to a recent incident when I had walked upright across a bridge, exposed to the enemy's rifle fire. My mates hurried across almost bent double whilst I sauntered slowly over in front of them. "You had somebody to look at you then; 'twas vanity that did it, but to-night! You were afraid, terribly funky. If there had been somebody to look on, you'd have been defiantly careless. It's rather nerve-racking to be sh.e.l.led when you're out alone at midnight and n.o.body looking at you!"

Dawn was breaking when I found myself at the Keep. The place in some manner fascinated me and I wanted to know what had happened there. (p. 173) I found that a few sh.e.l.ls were still coming that way and most of the party were in their dug-outs. I peered down the one which was under my old sleeping place; at present all stayed in their dug-outs when off duty. They were ordered to do so, but none of the party were sleeping now, the night had been too exciting.

"'Oo's there?" Bill called up out of the darkness, and when I spoke he muttered:

"Oh, it's ole Pat! Where were yer?"

"I've been out for a walk," I replied.

"When that sh.e.l.lin' was goin' on?"

"Yes."

"You're a cool beggar, you are!" said Bill. "I was warm here I tell yer!"

"Have the Germans come this way?" I asked.

"Germans!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bill. "They come 'ere and me with ten rounds in the magazine and one in the breech! They knows better!"

Stoner was awake when I returned to the dug-out by Headquarters.

"Up already?" I asked.

"Up! I've been up almost since you went away," he answered. "My! the sh.e.l.ls didn't half fly over here. And I thought you'd never get (p. 174) back."

"That's due to lack of imagination," I told him. "What's for breakfast?"

CHAPTER XIII (p. 175)

A NIGHT OF HORROR

'Tis only a dream in the trenches, Told when the shadows creep, Over the friendly sandbags When men in the dug-outs sleep.

This is the tale of the trenches Told when the shadows fall, By little Hughie of Dooran, Over from Donegal.