The Guns of Europe Part 24

"Right! old man!" shouted Wharton, agreeing with him for once.

They were already retiring, and the field artillery was going with them.

But the deadly seventy-five millimeter guns were not idle, although they were withdrawing. They sent sh.e.l.l after sh.e.l.l, which hung low over the German ranks, and then burst in a whirlwind of steel fragments and splinters. Death was showered upon the gray ma.s.ses, but they never flinched, coming on steadily, with the deep German cheer, swelling now and then into thunder.

The battle was so near that the Strangers could no longer hear one another, although they shouted. Their company luckily had suffered little, but now the bullets began to search their ranks, and brave young Americans and brave young Englishmen gave up their lives under an alien flag.

John was conscious of neither elation nor despair. The excitement was too great. His heart hammered heavily against its walls, and the red mist before him deepened until it became a blazing glare. Then the rush of hoofs came again. The Uhlans had reformed and made a second charge.

The riflemen beat it off, and, still protecting the guns, joined the main French force.

But it was evident there that the French must retreat again. The powerful artillery of the Germans had cut their defenses to pieces. The earth was torn by the great sh.e.l.ls as if mining machinery had been at work, and the ground was covered with dead and wounded. Valor against numbers and long preparation was unavailing.

"If we don't go we're lost," shouted Carstairs.

"And if we go today we can come back and fight another day!" said Wharton.

The French leader gathered together his army, beaten for a second time, and slowly retired across the hills. The French character here showed itself entirely different from what popular belief had made it. John saw no signs of panic. The battered brigades closed up and withdrew, turning a steady and resolute face to the enemy. Their deadly artillery continually swept the front of the advancing Germans, and at intervals their riflemen sent back withering volleys.

John's excitement did not abate. Again he loaded and fired his rifle, until its barrel grew hot in his hand. The tumult was fierce and deafening beyond all description. He shouted to his comrades and his comrades shouted to him, but none could hear the sound of a human voice.

The roar of the explosions was mingled without ceasing with the whining and shrieking of shrapnel and bullets.

Yet the retreating army defeated every attempt to close with it. The rifles and cannon mowed down the flankers to both right and left, and their powerful guns drove the pursuing center to a respectful distance.

Toward night they came to a higher range of hills spreading to such a distance that they could not be flanked, and, turning there, they sat down, and waited, confident of their position.

CHAPTER IX

THE RIDE OF THREE

The battle, including the fighting retreat, had lasted a long time and it had proved even to inexperienced John that the French force could not stand before the superior numbers of the Germans, and their tremendous equipment. And yet the French officers had shown much skill. They had inflicted great losses, they had drawn off all their artillery, and they had defeated every effort of their enemy to surround and destroy them.

John felt that not everything was lost as they sat down on the hills and began to fortify anew. There was no time for him to rest. He was only a private soldier, and, armed with a spade, he worked at a trench with all the strength and energy he could command. But his immediate friends of the Strangers were of no higher rank than himself and they were beside him engaged in the same task. "I'm only a new soldier," he said, "but it seems to me we did pretty well to get off with our army and our guns."

"So we did," said Carstairs. "I fancy the chief part of our occupation will be retreating until the British come up."

"There it goes," said Wharton. "Every Englishman has a fatal disease.

You can never cure him of being an Englishman. If a million French and a hundred thousand English were to win a battle Carstairs would give all the credit of it to the hundred thousand English."

"I'd give it to 'em, because it belonged to 'em. Keep your fool Yankee head down, Wharton. Didn't you hear that sh.e.l.l whistle?"

"I heard it, and I heard a dozen others too," said John, who could not keep from s.h.i.+vering a little. "Why do they keep on bothering us, when we're now in too strong a position to be attacked, and the night too is at hand?"

"Oh, you'll get used to it," said Wharton. "They won't attack tonight, but they want to keep us disturbed, to create terror among us, and then we'll be easier, when they do come again."

"I don't hear the giant any more."

"You mean the forty-two centimeter. I fancy it's far in the rear. They have to have roads on which to drag it, and then, so they say, it has to be placed in a concrete bed before they can fire it."

"At any rate their fire is dying," said Carstairs, "and I'm jolly glad of it. I didn't get any sleep last night, and I want some tonight. I need it, after this back-breaking work."

Fortunately the trench was soon finished, and the long range firing ceased entirely. The night came on, hiding the two armies from each other, and fires sprang up in the French camp. Their light was ruddy and cheerful. Then came the glorious aroma of food, and, the Strangers called from their labors to the banquet, sat down and ate.

John had heard all his life what cooks the French were, but nothing that he had ever tasted before was like the food he ate and the coffee he drank that night. Incessant marching and fighting gave a savor that nothing else could impart.

While they still sat around the cooking fires they saw dim shapes in the heavens, and John, out of the depths of his experience, knew that they were the flying machines. Carstairs and Wharton saw him looking up.

"You may want to be there," said Wharton, "but I don't. I'd grow so giddy I'd jump right out of the machine. This sound and rolling earth suits me. I like its green gra.s.s, its rivers, its lakes and its mountains, and I don't want to go off, prospecting for other planets."

"It's lucky," said John, "that this army has flying machines of its own.

If it didn't the Germans would be raining bombs upon us."

Carstairs shuddered.

"There's something heathenish and uncanny about it," he said. "Soldiers, by Jove, have to watch nowadays. If you're on the s.h.i.+p looking for an enemy of your size the little submarine down under the water may blow you to pieces, and if you're on the land holding your own against another army a little aeroplane away up in the sky may drop a bomb that will shatter you into seven million pieces."

"It's a hard world, Carstairs," said Wharton, "but I think discomfort rather than danger will come out of the sky tonight. The clouds are piling up and there'll be heavy rain. John, you little old flying man, won't that stop the Taubes?"

"They wouldn't venture much in a heavy rain, and I think we're safe from them, but you know that what their fliers can do ours can do too."

"That being the case I'll settle myself for rest and sleep. The French show us a lot of consideration as we've volunteered to fight for them, and there are tents for the Strangers. You're to have a place in ours."

John was grateful and said so. The strain of the last few days would have overpowered him, but luckily he was exceedingly strong and tenacious. Yet he was so tired that he could scarcely walk, and he was very very glad to go into the tent with Carstairs and Wharton. He received two blankets, and, putting one under him and the other over him, he lay near the open flap, where he could get a good view of much that was going on outside.

He soon saw that it was to be no storm of thunder and lightning, but a heavy soaking rain. The air too had turned colder, and he was grateful for the blankets. He was becoming inured to hards.h.i.+p so fast that they and the tent were as luxurious to him as a modern hotel would have seemed two weeks before.

Carstairs and Wharton, after a short combat in words, fell sound asleep, but John lingered a little. He saw the fires burning smokily, and French soldiers pa.s.sing before the blaze. From where he lay he could also see far out upon the plain that lay before them. But everything there was veiled in heavy mists and low clouds. Although an army of perhaps a hundred thousand men was only a short distance away the night disclosed no trace of it.

The rain began to fall soon, coming down as John had foreseen in a strong, steady pour. The sound on the heavy canvas was so soothing that his nerves relaxed and he slept. He was awakened at an unearthly hour by the strong hand of Captain Colton pulling at his shoulder.

As soon as John realized that it was his commanding officer he sprang to his feet and saluted, although his eyes were yet heavy with sleep. It was still raining and the water poured from a heavy cape coat that Captain Colton wore over his uniform. Carstairs and Wharton were already on their feet.

"You three are chosen for a mission," said Captain Colton, "and I'll tell it to you as briefly as I can. We've received news tonight that another German force is coming from the northeast. If it gets upon our flank we're lost, but there is a French army, and perhaps an English force with it or near it to the west. If they can be brought up in time they will protect our flank and save us--and also themselves. But we must have trusty messengers. The flying machines can do little in the storm. So we fall back on the ancient agencies. Can you ride, Mr.

Scott?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you three are to go at once. Other messengers will ride forth, but I should feel very proud, if it were the Strangers who brought help."

The little appeal was not lost on the three. He rapidly gave them instructions about the point, at which the second French force was supposed to be, and told them to ride for it as hard as they could, giving to them sealed despatches also. Their own army would be falling back meanwhile.

"Both Carstairs and Wharton know this region and the roads," he said to John, "and you keep with them. Are you ready?"

"Yes sir," answered the three together.

They stepped out into the rain, but forgetful of it. An orderly was holding three horses. In an instant, they were in the saddle and away.

They pa.s.sed through the lines and came out upon one of the splendid French roads, the three abreast. The rain was beating in their faces, but the orderly had tied cloaks to their saddles, and now they wrapped them about their bodies.