Kitabı oku: «The Fall of a Nation», sayfa 13

CHAPTER XXXI

THE first day’s battle brought to many a raw recruit the sharp need of military training. Many a man who had never consciously known the meaning of fear waked to find his knees trembling and hung his head in shame at the revelation.

Tommaso had led his squad into the trenches before his bitter hour of self-revelation came. He had caught a glimpse of his wife and boy in a group of panic-stricken refugees and the sight had taken the last ounce of courage out of him. He was going to be killed. He knew it now with awful certainty. What would become of his loved ones? All night in the trenches he brooded over it. When the sun rose he was only waiting for a chance to run in the excitement of battle. He swore he would not leave his wife and child to starve!

Angela carrying the poor little fear-stricken monkey, with the boy tightly gripping his dog Sausage, trying to save his kitten and his mother lugging a huge bundle had penetrated the American lines and found Vassar the day of the opening fight.

The leader had hustled them from the field and they had taken refuge in a cabin behind the trenches. With the first gray dawn, the aeroplanes began to drop shells from the sky. An aerial bomb exploded within twenty feet of the cabin.

Angela leaped to the door, gathered her boy and pets and shouted to her terror-stricken neighbor.

“Come – quick! we will be torn to pieces – we must run – ”

In dumb panic, Mrs. Schultz gathered her own boy convulsively in her arms and refused to stir.

Angela sprang through the door and hurried across the hills. The others crouched in the corner of the cabin and waited.

A black ball again shot downward, crashed through the roof of the cabin, exploded and sent the frail structure leaping into the heavens.

The airmen far up in the sky saw the column of flame and smoke and débris:

“Good – we got ’em that crack!” the driver shouted above the whirr of his motor.

By one of the strange miracles of war Sausage crawled over the dead body of his mother still clinging to the kitten and found his way into the woods without a scratch.

Angela was just staggering to the crest of the ridge when the shell exploded and hurled the cabin into space. A sickening wave of horror swept her soul and she suddenly sank in a heap. In vain poor Sam the monk tried to rouse her. His deep curious monkey eyes swept the smoke-wreathed heavens in terror as again and again he stroked the white still face of his fallen mistress.

For the first time since they had left home on the wild journey the childish smile left the boy’s face. His war picnic had ended in grim tragedy after all. He couldn’t believe it at first and the tears came in spite of his struggle to hold them back. In vain he shook his mother. She lay flat on her back now, her chalk-white face upturned in the sun.

The boy was still crying when he felt the nudge of another arm against his. He lifted his tear-stained face and saw Sausage’s smoke-begrimmed cheeks and the look of dumb anguish in his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” the boy sobbed.

“My mamma’s killed” – was the low answer.

The swarthy face of the little Italian pressed close to the fair German, and their arms stole round each other’s neck.

Angela waking from her faint found them thus and gathered them into her arms.

She was still soothing their fears when Tommaso crawling on hands and knees in mortal terror from the battlefield, suddenly came upon them.

In her surprise and joy over his protection Angela failed to note at first the meaning of his sudden appearance.

“O my Tommaso!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms.

He held her close for a moment and whispered excitedly:

“I come to take you home, my Angela. You will be killed – you must not be here – ”

It was not until he had spoken that the wife caught the note of cowardly terror in his voice. Her arms slipped slowly from his neck.

He hurried to repeat his warning:

“You must go quick, my Angela!”

The wife searched his soul and he turned away. She put her hand on his shoulder and her own eyes filled with tears.

“Come – we must hurry” – Tommaso urged, seizing his gun and starting to rise.

Angela held his hand firmly and pointed to the smoke-covered field below.

“No – no – my man. Your place is there to fight for our bambino and his country – you just forgot for a little while. I know – I understand. I felt my heart melt and my poor knees go down – you go now and fight for us!”

The man trembled and could not meet her eye.

A shell exploded near, hurling the dust and gravel in advance clear above them. A piece of iron buried itself in the earth but three feet away.

Angela cried in terror. The man suddenly stiffened, looked into the face of his boy, rose, seized his rifle, kissed his wife and rushed down the red lane of death to the front.

Angela watched him with pride and terror. He was still in plain view in the little valley below when he met the ragged lines of our retreating men. The color-bearer fell. Tommaso seized the flag and called the men to rally.

Through a hell of bursting shrapnel and machine-gun fire he turned the tide of retreat into a charge – a charge that never faltered until the last man fell on the slippery slopes of blood below the trenches of the enemy.

Tommaso staggered to the breastworks and stood one man against an army cheering and calling his charge to the field of the dead.

The enemy rose in the trenches and cheered the lone figure silhouetted against the darkened heavens until he sank at last exhausted from the loss of blood.

CHAPTER XXXII

OUR observers in a captive balloon had made out before sunrise the massing of machine guns in front. They were still coming on in endless procession of swirling auto-transports that lifted clouds of white dust that swept toward our lines in billows so dense at times the field was obscured.

Hood decided to close in on those guns before they could be assembled and mounted.

With a savage yell a brigade of regulars led the charge, followed by ten thousand picked men. Pressing forward before a dust cloud the regulars penetrated within a hundred yards of the enemy’s lines before they were discovered. The rush with which they crossed the space was resistless. The splutter of pompoms filled the air and half the line went down. The remaining half reached the first crews. Hand to hand now and man to man they fought like demons – bayonets, revolvers, clubs, fists and stones! Friend and foe mingled in a mad holocaust of death. While still they fought, the second line of our charging men reached the spot and joined the fray. Twenty machine guns had been captured and turned on their foes. An ominous quiet behind the scene of this bloody combat followed the first roar of the clash.

The commander of the invaders, seeing that he had lost some guns, instantly drew back his lines and reformed them fan-shaped with each gun bearing on the breach.

A tornado of whistling lead suddenly burst on the mass of our victorious troops. Five hundred machine guns had been concentrated with a speed that was stunning.

Our men dropped in platoons. They swayed and rallied and once more faced the foe for a second charge. Machine guns seemed to rise from the earth. They were fighting five regiments of men all armed with them.

The commander of our charging division tried in vain to rally. In thirty minutes there was nothing to rally. They lay in ghastly moaning heaps while whistling bullets sang their requiem in an endless crackle that came like the popping of straw before the roar of flames in a burning meadow. Whole regiments were literally wiped out with every officer and every man left torn and mangled on the field.

The reserves in the trenches saw the hideous butchery in helpless fury. No moving thing could live within the radius of those guns.

When the last man had fallen, the spluttering pompoms died away and a green billow of smoke began to roll toward our lines. It swept on in a steady, even wave three miles long. The wind was carrying the cloud straight across the trenches in which our men crouched to receive the charge they expected to follow our failure.

The dust clouds had been pouring in their faces all morning. They paid no attention to the changing greenish tints of the new dust bank. The deadly fumes poured over our trenches in silence. The men breathed once and dropped in strangling horror, clutching and tearing at their throats. The guns fell by their sides as their bodies writhed and twisted in mortal agony. The pestilence swept the field scorching and curling every living thing.

Behind it in the shadows stalked a new figure in the history of war – ghouls in shining divers’ helmets with knife and revolver to complete the assassin’s work.

A thousand fiends of hell charging in serried ranks with faces silhouetted by the red glare of the pit could not have made a picture more hideous than these crouching diving machines as they scrambled over the shambles of the trenches and ruthlessly shot the few surviving figures, blindly fighting for air.

Behind those monsters who were proof against the poison fumes advanced the dense masses of infantry.

The way was clear, the backbone of the defense had been broken. Three miles of undefended trenches lay in front. It was the simplest work of routine to give the order to charge and watch them pour through the far-flung hopeless breach, swing to the right and left and roll the broken ranks up in two mighty scrolls of blood and death.

It was done with remorseless, savage brutality. Our men asked no quarter. They got none.

The leader of the charging hosts had orders to exterminate the contemptible little army of civilians that had dared oppose the imperial hosts.

They were setting an example of frightfulness that would make the task of complete conquest easy.

“Kill! Kill! Kill!” shouted the stout bow-legged General in command of the cavalry. “It’s mercy in the long run! Let them know that we mean what we say!”

When our men saw their methods and knew that the end was sure, they sold each life for all it would bring in the shambles. Many a stalwart foe bit the dust and lay cold and still or writhing in mortal agony among the heaps of our dead and wounded before the awful day had ended.

The cries of the wounded were heartrending. A weird, unearthly sound came from the vast field of groaning, wailing, dying, gibbering men. The most hideous scenes of all were enacted by maniacs who laughed the red laugh of death in each other’s faces.

The horizon toward Southampton was black now with the smoke of burning villages. They had set them on fire with deliberate wanton purpose of destructive terror.

Would they burn Babylon in the same way? Would these maddened brutes break into our homes and make the night still more hideous with crimes against women and children?

A wave of horror swept Vassar’s soul as he thought of his nieces and the woman he loved. He crept through the shadows of the woods and hurried toward the Holland home.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE twilight was deepening on scenes of stark horror in the streets of Babylon when Vassar slipped through the field and along the hedgerows toward the center of the town.

Flames were leaping from a dozen homes along the turnpike. He saw the brutal soldiery enter a pretty lawn, call out the occupants and as they emerged fire in volleys on old men, women and children. They fell across the doorsteps and lay where they fell. A dark figure approached the open door, hurled a quart of gasoline inside, lighted his fire ball, and walked away, his black form outlined in the night against the red glare of hell.

A crowd of panic-stricken women and children with a dozen boys of fourteen rushed down the streets toward the squad of incendiaries. Without a word they raised their rifles and fired until the last figure fell.

A child toddled from the burning home carrying her kitten in one hand and a toy lamb in another. She was sobbing bitterly in one breath, and trying to reassure her kitten in the next.

Vassar heard her as she hurried past on the other side of the hedge.

“Don’t you cry, kitty darling, I won’t let them hurt you.”

Her people were dead. She was hurrying into the night alone. From every street came the shrieks of women dragged to their doom by beasts in uniform.

Vassar set his jaw and crept along the last hedgerow to the gate of the Holland home.

The lights were burning brightly. A sentinel stood at the steps of the porch, his burly figure distinctly outlined against the cluster of electric lights in the low ceiling.

A sentry was on guard at the gate not ten feet away. A battery of artillery rolled past, its steel frames rattling and lumbering.

Vassar saw his chance.

As the last caisson wheeled away beyond the flickering street lamps the guard turned into the hedge out of the wind to light his pipe.

With a tiger spring Vassar leaped on him, gripped his throat, pressed an automatic to his breast and fired.

He took the chance that the passing battery would drown the muffled shot. The sentry crumpled in his arms and he held his breath watching his companion at the house. The steady step showed that he had not heard.

He drew the dying soldier into the shadows inside the lawn and exchanged clothes. He threw the body close under the hedge, seized the rifle and took his place at the gate.

He would side-step the officers, guard the house and make the men who dared attempt to violate it pay for their crime. It was evident that a commander had selected the house for his headquarters for the night. He watched the drunken revelers who passed and wondered what was happening inside.

So long as the officer of high rank remained and was sober the women were safe. He would stand guard until daylight and make his escape.

He watched the figures pass the lighted windows with increasing anxiety. A disturbance had occurred. The sentinel stopped, glanced toward the house, lowered his gun, watched a moment and resumed his beat.

Vassar crawled on his hands and knees halfway across the lawn, gripped his rifle, and waited.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE orderly who searched the house found two shotguns. The Colonel who had quartered his staff for the night pointed to the two old men.

“Arrest them – you understand.”

Andrew Vassar knew what the brief clause with which the order ended meant. He crossed himself and breathed a prayer for the safety of his loved ones.

Zonia and Marya burst into tears. Virginia and her mother drew themselves erect and waited white and silent.

Holland faced the commander, erect, defiant.

“I am a soldier, sir,” he began with dignity. “I fought for my country through four bloody years in a hundred skirmishes and twenty-six great battles. I have the right to bear arms. I have won that right with my blood. I claim it before any court on earth over which a soldier presides.”

The commander fixed him with a stern look.

“You have disobeyed the proclamation of the Governor-General, the servant of my Imperial Master. You have therefore forfeited all rights.”

“I demand a trial by drum-head court martial!” Holland answered.

“You shall have it – you and your companion. Take them away.”

Between two soldiers they were marched across the fields.

The children burst into incontrollable weeping.

The Colonel spoke in sharp tones:

“Come, come, my children. It is nothing. I must respect the forms. Their lives are forfeited, but I spare them for your sakes. They will return, both, tomorrow – have no fear!”

Zonia seized the officer’s hand still sobbing:

“Thank you! Thank you!”

Marya in her joy kissed him.

The crisis passed, the Colonel turned to the ladies with a courtly bow.

“I am sorry to have to be so rude in your presence, madam,” he said, addressing Virginia’s mother. “We are soldiers. I must obey the orders of my superiors. I have no choice. We are sorry to put you to the trouble – but we are tired and hungry and we must dine. I will appreciate a good dinner and I shall see to it that your home is safe from intrusion on this unhappy evening.”

His heels clicked again and he resumed his seat.

“We will serve you dinner at once,” Virginia quickly replied before her mother could answer. “We are sorry that it will be so poor. We have had no market for the past two days – ”

“Some good wine will go far to make up for what else you may lack,” a Lieutenant interrupted.

“By all means, some wine – “ the Colonel added.

The three men were bidden to enter the dining-room with a bow from Peter, the black butler.

“We dine alone?” the Colonel asked in surprise.

“De ladies is feelin’ very po’ly, sah – Dey axe to be ‘cused – ”

“Say to the ladies,” was the stern answer, “that we cannot sit down without their presence. We await them. Ask them to come at once.”

The request was a command.

The women held a council of war.

“I’ll die first,” Mrs. Holland calmly answered.

“You will not,” Virginia firmly declared.

“We’ve something big to live for now. Our country needs us. We too are soldiers from tonight. We play the war game with our enemy – come all of you – ”

Without delay she forced them to enter the dining-room. Virginia, Zonia and Marya took seats opposite the intruders, the mother, her accustomed place at the head of the table.

The dinner moved with quiet and orderly dignity until the officers’ faces began to flush with wine. The Lieutenant’s leering eye continually sought Zonia’s.

She avoided his gaze at every turn.

“Come, now, you little puss!” he cried at last. “Don’t freeze me with dark looks and averted gaze. I like you!”

Zonia blushed and dropped her head lower.

“I suggest, Lieutenant,” Mrs. Holland began, “that your remark is a little rude. I trust we are in the presence of gentlemen of culture and refinement.”

Virginia held her breath in painful suspense. She saw the Colonel give a wink aside to his subordinate.

The Lieutenant tossed off his glass of wine, rose, clicked his heels and bowed.

“I assure you, madam,” he said with a laugh, “you do me great injustice. I have been honestly smitten with admiration for the charming and beautiful young lady. We are enemies, but she has conquered. I acknowledge defeat. To show you my sincerity, I will apologize – ”

With a quick swing, his sword clanking, he walked around the table and leaned close over Zonia’s shoulders, his reddened eyes searching her frightened face.

“You will forgive me, my dear!” he drawled.

His head touched the girl’s dark hair and she shrank with a little cry of horror.

“Please!”

“So! I’m not to be forgiven!” he growled.

“Please leave me!” Zonia breathed timidly.

“Come now – don’t be silly – “ he protested. “Am I a leper?”

The girl lifted her eyes to his flushed, lecherous face, sprang to her feet, rushed into the hall and up the stairs. The Lieutenant followed with a loud laugh and oath.

Virginia and her mother leaped from their chairs to follow. The Colonel stood in front barring the way.

“Enough of these high and mighty airs, if you please!” he commanded sternly. “We are the masters of this house. It is a woman’s place to obey. Sit down!”

“Colonel, I beg of you – “ Virginia pleaded. “I must protect this girl. She is under my care – ”

“I will protect her! My officer means no harm. Your suspicions are an insult. He is only having his little fun with a foolish girl. It is the privilege of the conqueror – ”

He seized Virginia’s arm and forced her into her seat. Marya was sobbing bitterly. Mrs. Holland sank helplessly into a chair where she stood.

The Colonel opened the front door and beckoned the guard.

The sentinel entered.

“Attend us. The ladies will not leave this room until our dinner has been properly served.”

The man saluted and took his place beside the door.

The noise of a struggle in the room above brought a moment of dead silence. The Colonel smiled. Marya screamed and Mrs. Holland fainted.

“Stop! Stop, I say!” Virginia heard the Lieutenant shout.

A vulgar oath rang through the house and Zonia’s swift feet were climbing the second flight of stairs, a man stumbling after her.

Virginia rushed instinctively to the rescue. The guard seized her arms and forced her into a chair.

“My dear young lady,” the Sublieutenant cried, approaching her with a leer. “It’s only a little fun! Not a hair of her precious head will be harmed. He only fired to frighten and bring her to terms.”

The Colonel continued to eat.

Virginia rushed to her mother’s aid with a glass of water as her limp form slipped to the floor.

The Colonel bent low over his cups and laughed at a joke the Sublieutenant whispered.

A shot rang out from the wall of the house.

A piercing scream echoed from the tower against the roof.

Something crashed through the vines and struck the stone walk with a dull thud.

“O my God!” Virginia moaned, covering her ears.

Virginia leaped from the floor and heard the quick familiar step of Billy passing the back door.

He was hiding on the lawn, heard Zonia’s first scream, and had killed the officer. Virginia saw it in a flash.

Their vengeance would be complete when they knew the truth. She must escape. There was work to be done for her country and she meant to do it. Life was too precious to be thrown away tonight.

She glided silently toward the door, reached the hall, seized Zonia’s hand, passed the guard and reached the lawn.

“Follow her!” the Colonel shouted. “Bring her back dead or alive – I’ll not be flouted by women!”

The man plunged after Virginia, and called once:

“Halt!”

He raised his rifle to fire as she rushed squarely into the arms of the sentry who held the gate.

She struggled fiercely to free herself from the hated uniform and felt his arms tighten with savage power.

Vassar spoke in low, tense whispers:

“Be still, my own!”

She lifted her eyes in joyous terror and saw the face of her lover tense with rage.

“God in heaven!” she cried.

“Sh, still now – on your knees,” he breathed.

“Oh, Uncy darling!” Zonia moaned.

Virginia’s body slowly dropped as if in prayer that her life be spared.

The sentinel from the house leisurely approached.

“Good work, old pal!” he called.

The Colonel and Sublieutenant rushed from the house, followed by Marya and Mrs. Holland who had revived. The commander blew his whistle and the entire guard who patrolled the grounds hurried to the spot.

Billy stepped from the shadows, and spoke in low tones to Vassar.

“It’s all up with me now. I shot the devil who was after Zonia.”

“Billy darling!” Virginia moaned.

“Keep still, sis – it’s all right!” he whispered.

The Colonel approached the group at his leisure, smoking a cigarette.

He merely glanced at Vassar and began in quick business-like tones:

“Who shot that man?”

Billy stepped forward.

“I did, sir – ”

“So?”

“Virginia Holland’s my sister – ”

The Colonel touched his mustache and looked the youngster over with admiration.

“A boy alone defies a victorious army. I like you. I want you in our ranks – ”

He paused thoughtfully as Mrs. Holland and Marya crept close, clinging to each other in dumb misery. Zonia slipped close to Billy —

“My darling boy!” his mother moaned.

“It’s all right, mother,” he called cheerfully – “What’s the odds? They shot John Vassar’s father and mine an hour ago – ”

A low moan came from Virginia’s lips.

The mother was silent. Her eyes were fixed on the rigid figure of her boy with hungry, desperate yearning.

The Colonel caught the look of anguish and felt for a moment the pull of its tragedy. He too had a mother.

He turned to her and spoke in friendly tones:

“Madam, your son is of the stuff that makes heroes. I’m going to spare his life – ”

“Thank God – “ she sobbed.

“On one condition – I want him in the service of the Emperor. Frederick the Great called thousands of conquered foes to the colors – they made good. If he will take off his cap and give three cheers for the Emperor – I will place him on my staff and he shall live to find new paths of glory.”

Billy smiled.

His mother, Virginia, Marya and Zonia pressed close and pleaded that he yield.

His mother held him in her arms in a long, desperate embrace.

“O my baby, heart of my heart, you must – I command it. Your father is gone. You must live and care for your poor mother – ”

“Do it, boy,” Virginia whispered, “and give them the slip – fight the devil with fire – you must.”

“Please, Billy!” Marya pleaded.

Zonia slipped her arms around his neck.

The boy looked into the wistful face of the girl – bent and kissed her.

“All right, Zonia,” he cried steadily.

“I’ll do it for your sake and mother’s – ”

“Sensible boy!” the Colonel cried. “Now attention!”

He clicked his heels as the guard fell in line behind him. With quick wit John Vassar took his place with the others.

“The ladies by my side, please, in honor of the ceremony,” the Colonel called.

Virginia, Marya and the mother huddled in a group beside the commander.

“Now, sir,” he cried, “we’ll have three cheers for his Imperial Majesty, the Emperor!”

The boy’s face went white and his voice failed.

“Billy – “ his mother pleaded.

“Billy!” Virginia sternly commanded.

“Billy!” Zonia pleaded.

The youngster’s body suddenly stiffened and a smile overspread his face. The tense scene was unearthly in the pale moonlight. His voice was quick and rang in deep, manly tones.

“Hurrah for the President of the United States! – to hell with all emperors!”

The Colonel drew his pistol and shot him down before their agonized gaze.

The mother swooned, Marya fled in terror to the woods.

Zonia caught the crumpled figure in her arms.

Vassar with a single leap was by Virginia’s side, seized her and rushed toward the shadows of the hedge.

He shouted to the commander:

“She’s mine, Colonel – by right of conquest!”

To Virginia he whispered hoarsely:

“Shout, fight, scratch, scream to him for help – ”

Quick to catch his ruse, she struck wildly with her hands, and called for help.

The Colonel laughed.

“I had reserved higher honors for you!” he shouted. “You’re not worth it – go with your man!”