Kitabı oku: «The Guns of Europe», sayfa 15
"It's no little war," said Carstairs.
"And I tell you again," said Wharton, "that England 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 in 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. Toward 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 Americans 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 military 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, because the little camp, in an instant, was the scene of terrible 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" himself, 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 beyond 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 long 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 indeed 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 grew 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 himself. 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 sometimes that attitude of superiority assumed by Europeans, but, here was Europe gone mad. Americans were sane and sensible. No military monarchs or military 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 and 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 toward 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 appropriate 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 never 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 beautiful as any that he had seen, flecks of white on a background of blue and a pleasant coolness. The inhabitants 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 the forehead.
"Farewell, young stranger who fights for 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 attention of Lannes who dropped slowly to the ground. The young Frenchman was overjoyed, and, in his intense 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 John told much of what had befallen him and his comrades, Carstairs the Englishman 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 Republic 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 forward. From another line farther west came the blaze of many cannon.
"Our men are making a stand," said Lannes. "Perhaps 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 this battle rose a mighty crash that sent the air rolling 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 centimeter," 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 pursuit, 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 terrible 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 reserved 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 well 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 to the danger of return fire from the Germans.
"I can see the gun now," said Lannes. "The gunners 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 felt 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 perfect accord John threw once and then twice. A terrific 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.
"Well 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, joyfully, "and now for glorious Paris!"
