With Haig on the Somme Part 25

Bob's fingers closed on his brother's like a vice.

"Thank G.o.d!" he murmured, "I'm not hit at all. I trod on an unexploded sh.e.l.l, and gave my leg an infernal wrench just as our fellows had to fall back. I couldn't move a yard, and got collared in consequence, and when it was dark they brought me along here. Where are you hurt, Den?"

"Welt over the head with a rifle-b.u.t.t," whispered Dennis excitedly. "I say, old chap, if we've any luck, I'll get you out of this. Do you know the lie of the land?"

"Yes, we're about a mile and a half in front of our new first line. Do you think you could rub my leg? You'll have to take the gaiter off; I've had several shots at it, but my fingers are all to pieces trying to get over some of their wire, and I couldn't slip the buckle for little apples."

Dennis had the gaiter undone in a moment, and Bob writhed as his brother felt the injured limb.

"You've got no end of a sprain, old man," whispered Dennis. "No wonder you couldn't walk. Your instep's swollen up as big as my two fists, and there's nothing for it but rest and cold water bandages to put you right."

"H'm! If I didn't know you for my own brother, I should put you down as a near relation of the late lamented Mr. Job," said Bob Dashwood, with a wry face. "But never mind, keep on rubbing. I'm feeling more life in it already. But, I say, Den, this is a weird place we're in. These German fellows don't seem to take their gruel like our chaps. It's a gruesome thing to hear a man cry."

"And it's worse to hear a man die, Bob," said Dennis solemnly. "I don't fancy from what the doctor said that many of these poor wretches will be here when the sun rises."

It was indeed a trying thing to be there, in the darkness with those sounds of human suffering all about them, and it made them both very anxious to make a start for that freedom which seemed such a long way off. Every now and then a piercing cry rose above the constant undercurrent of moans, and the sobbing was distressing in the extreme.

A strong man from the far side of the barn calling piteously on "_Mutterchen_," made them both think of their own "little mother"; and after Dennis had rubbed for several minutes until the palms of his hands were terribly hot, Bob clutched his shoulder and whispered: "For goodness' sake, old chap, let's chance our arm! I can't stand any more of this!"

"Just as you like," a.s.sented his brother, strapping the gaiter loosely round the limb again. "If you can't walk you must crawl, and when you can't crawl I'll carry you; but I wish my head wouldn't ache so confoundedly. Do you notice no one's been near this place since they brought you in? That tells me the sanitary squad will be busy to-morrow."

He helped Bob up as he spoke, not to his feet, for he could not put the right one to the ground; but by pa.s.sing an arm round Dennis's neck he managed to hop to the door, which was only a yard away, and there they paused to take their bearings before leaving the shelter of the barn.

Every step was as painful to the one as to the other, but the night air was very sweet, and the hope of liberty sweeter.

"This door opens to the east," whispered the Captain. "Consequently, our road lies yonder; and, by Jove! it is a road too! What stunning chaps the British gunners are when they're properly supplied with ammunition!"

"You're quite sure you're right, old man?" said Dennis. "The sh.e.l.ls are bursting yonder like one o'clock."

"Exactly!" was Bob's dry rejoinder. "That's the German barrage falling behind our new line. It's about there we shall probably get pipped on the post, brother of mine. That barrage lies between us and safety."

Overhead the sh.e.l.ls rushed, clanging, booming, whistling, screeching, according to their different species and calibre; and every now and then a star-sh.e.l.l burst in the sky, lighting everything up for a few seconds in an unearthly brilliance.

"So long as we're between the two fires," said Bob, as they began their perilous journey, "there is nothing much to fear, it seems to me. The next mile is No Man's Land with a vengeance; after that it will be Dante's Inferno with the lid off."

Every time a star-sh.e.l.l burst the fugitives flung themselves on to the ground. After one of those enforced pauses, and before they had covered a quarter of a mile, they rested for quite a considerable time at the edge of an enormous crump-hole, and, Dennis still having his haversack, they divided its contents and ate ravenously.

"I suppose we shall be returned missing," said Bob. "But surely the governor will keep the news back for a day or two on the mater's account. Let's get a move on, old chap; our non-appearance is robbing him of all the satisfaction he'd have got out of a fine day's work." And as they went on again, the Captain using a Mauser rifle which Dennis had picked up as a crutch, he told his brother how completely successful the British advance had been up to the moment when the Reeds.h.i.+res were obliged to fall back. The battalion had lost terribly, but we had taken two villages, and what we had we meant to hold.

At the end of another quarter of a mile they took cover again very suddenly; no star-sh.e.l.l that time, but a very businesslike German high explosive, which scooped up tons of earth, and it was followed by another and another, which all burst in their immediate neighbourhood.

"I say, Bob, this is getting rather serious," said Dennis. "They're shortening their fuses for some reason or other, and we're just in the line of fire. I wish there was a safe spot where we could lie up until we see what it means. What's the matter with that building over there with the broken chimney shaft? The beggars are sh.e.l.ling right and left of it as though they didn't want it to get hit--mean to use it when they counter-attack, I suppose; and if we're questioned, I must pa.s.s you off as my prisoner, eh?"

"It certainly is getting sultry," a.s.sented Captain Bob. "Let's try that place yonder. One may as well get killed by falling bricks inside as by T.N.T. in the open."

His voice grew very solemn as he added: "I believe it was in front of that place that our battalion got its fearful gruelling, and poor old A company was wiped out."

It was the only building anywhere visible, and a zigzag walk between sh.e.l.l craters brought them to it.

A bristling hedge of very thick barbed wire was the first thing they encountered; but, thanks to another star-sh.e.l.l, they discovered an opening at the back leading to what had evidently been a brewery in the piping times of peace. The shattered sheds about the yard and the half-ruined main building had been sandbagged and strengthened by the enemy's engineers, as though they had intended to hold it.

But for some reason or other it was now deserted. The machine-guns had been removed from their positions, and there were signs of a hasty and recent exodus. The tall shaft of the chimney-stack stood sentinel over the deserted place; but as the two brothers penetrated into the main building, the thought that was in both their minds was voiced by Dennis.

"I believe we've touched lucky," he said. "You're right, old chap; they don't want to hit this show for some reason best known to themselves."

A perfect hurricane of sh.e.l.ls was pa.s.sing on either side of the ruined brewery from batteries not very far behind it, and it was a relief to steal inside the big dark chamber where the thunder seemed less loud.

"I've still got my torch," said Dennis in a low voice, after an anxious pause. "I wonder if it would be safe to have a look round the place?"

"Why not?" replied Bob. "There must be water somewhere here, and my throat is like the sole of an old boot. If there had been anyone hiding, we should have heard them by this time."

Dennis turned on his light, and the beam showed them that the ground floor of the building had been utilised as a bathroom. Rows of vats and coppers were ranged along one side, and a network of pipes communicated with some large stoves, in one of which there was still a handful of red embers.

"Can't make out why the beggars scooted," muttered Bob Dashwood. "This place has been turned into a regular redoubt, and might have been held successfully against a division. There is something at the bottom of it, Dennis, and the mind of Brother Boche is a subtle and a crafty mind.

Look!" And he pointed to a long line of underclothing hanging above the stoves. "They've even left their was.h.i.+ng when they cleared out."

His speculations terminated abruptly as an electric bell rang somewhere in the darkness.

"Great Scott!" cried Dennis, stabbing the gloom with the beam of his pocket-torch. "There's another room here, and the place is evidently in communication with their headquarters."

He ran in the direction of the sound, and the door led him into the engine-room of the brewery, a mysterious place smelling of oil. Wheels, shafts and boilers met his eye, but he paid no heed to them, for the bell still rang; and Bob, limping painfully after him, heard the sharp cry he gave, and saw him bending down in a huge cavity on which he flashed his light.

"I say, Bob!" he called excitedly. "The chimney overhead is fitted with a wireless installation, and here's a complete outfit of field telegraph and telephone!"

"Smash it; it's worse than useless to us, for we don't know their code,"

was the practical advice of the captain.

"Hold on!" chuckled Dennis. "They don't talk by code. We may hear things yet!" And he unhooked the telephone receiver.

Bob's eyes opened very wide, and, leaning on his rifle-crutch, he explored his brother's pocket for a cigarette and lit it.

"Well, what's it all about?" he asked impatiently, his eyes riveted on the delighted smile that wreathed the listener's face.

Dennis made a hasty gesture with his hand and continued to listen.

It was a very angry voice that came along that wire, and the quick-witted lad instantly saw great possibilities here.

"What are you doing with yourself, Von Dussel?" demanded the voice.

"Pardon, sir," said Dennis, in his best German, "I have difficulty in catching your words; the noise of the sh.e.l.ls is so great." And he winked delightedly at Bob. "Who is speaking, please?"

An imprecation preceded the reply. "I am the General von Bingenhammer at the headquarters of Prince Rupprecht, who is furious at the delay."

"A thousand apologies, your excellency!" said Dennis into the receiver.

"The truth is, we are so hard pressed here that it is difficult to get the necessary information. My three a.s.sistants have been killed, and I have this moment returned from a personal reconnaissance, where I managed to get within fifteen yards of the trench we lost this evening, and I am afraid the news I have will be decidedly unpleasant."

"Well, what is it?" snapped the general. "Unpleasant or no, we rely implicitly on your judgment."