With Haig on the Somme Part 6

At any other time Dennis would have been constrained to laugh at the incongruity of their choice, but Harry Hawke knew what he was doing, and that no German could have imitated the c.o.c.kney tw.a.n.g in which they brayed their chant at the top of their strident voices.

"There's a silver linin'--froo the dyark clard s.h.i.+nin', Turn the dyark clard inside art till the boys come 'ome!"

they howled, and as a fresh star-sh.e.l.l lit up the trench they saw a man in khaki thrust his head and shoulders over the topmost bag and look under his hand in their direction.

"Cut it out, 'Arry--there's Ginger Bill, and 'e's 'eard!" cried Tiddler, jumping to his feet. "Run for all you're worth, sir!"

His companions needed no second bidding, and in another minute they were clambering up the outer face of the parapet and falling in a heap on to the fire step inside.

"Well, I'm blowed!" said Ginger Bill, as they picked themselves up.

"And you ain't the only one," panted Harry Hawke. "Where's the other chaps?"

And then he saw that Ginger Bill was bleeding badly.

"Ordered over there at the double--ain't none of you got any ears?" said Ginger Bill, pointing to the hand-to-hand scrimmage which seemed to end in front of the Dashwoods' dug-out.

Harry Hawke, very excusably overstepping the deference due to commissioned rank, clutched the skirt of Dennis's tunic and nearly pulled him backwards.

"We four ain't no good, sir, in that scrum, but there's a sh.e.l.l-proof bomb store not a minute's run down this 'ere traverse. We could give 'em socks then!"

"Bravo, Hawke!" shouted Dennis. "Come on, Dan; he's right!" And they tore along the traverse like men possessed.

Back they came, Hawke and Tiddler girdled with a belt of racket bombs, Dennis and Dan Dunn each laden with two bags of that deadly variety so handy to the arm of the bowler.

Ginger Bill gave them a cheer as they went past him, but they heard nothing and saw nothing but that solid ma.s.s of grey German uniforms, wedged like herrings in a barrel where they had no right to be--in a British trench!

Without a moment's hesitation Dennis sprang on to the parados, and hurled bomb after bomb with perfect aim into the grey ma.s.s, which instantly began to yell and squirm as panic seized it. Nothing human could withstand that terrific shower that rained upon the victorious Saxons, who had been recovering their second wind; and as a lucky sh.e.l.l from one of our 18-pounders put the Prussian machine-gun out of action, Dan Dunn mounted the parapet, leaving the trench clear for Hawke and Tiddler.

The four advanced steadily, bombing as they went.

"Hold on!" sang a voice as Dennis reached the mouth of the next traverse. And, looking down, he saw that it was Bob who spoke, and behind him thirty or forty men of the platoon, who had been forced to take refuge there from the overwhelming rush of the enemy.

"Oh, it's you, is it?" cried the captain, darting out, revolver in hand.

"Come on, boys! The bombers have got a move on them; it's our turn now!"

And as Dennis launched a long ball, the men of the platoon poured out into the trench again and clambered over the hideous carpet of dead and dying.

Without hesitation Dennis leapt across the traverse, and was soon at the head of the bayonet party, Dan Dunn keeping neck and neck with him on the parapet, and only when he groped to the bottom of his second bag and found it empty did he jump down and flatten himself against the side of the trench.

"Here, what's wrong?" he shouted, as his own men came pouring back.

"Order's come to retire, sir; we've got to fall back on the next trench!" cried a panting private.

"Oh, hang it! I thought we'd got the beggars out!" exclaimed the lad, almost overthrown by the jostling crowd with packs and rifles that streamed past him. "I wonder what's become of Bob?"

Tiddler and Harry Hawke were nowhere to be seen, and Bob was equally invisible; but there could be no doubt about the order, for a staff-captain, his uniform stained with the white chalk, came running along the trench, crying: "Retire! Hurry up, there! Here come the Bavarians!"

"But I say, sir," expostulated Dennis, "isn't this all wrong? We've piled the Saxons up six deep behind us yonder, and surely we can hold on here?"

"The order has been given by the Brigade Commander. Who the deuce are you, young man, to dispute it?" thundered the staff-captain furiously.

Dan Dunn saw his cousin's eyes suddenly blaze and his clear-cut face turn crimson as he whipped out his revolver and covered the speaker!

The Australian's first impression was that in the excitement of it all his cousin had gone stark staring mad--he had seen such things happen in Anzac.

"Great Scott, Den! Do you know what you're doing?" he yelled, flinging his powerful arms round him.

But he was too late. The barrel of the revolver gleamed blue in the lurid glare of a big H.E. which burst behind them, and Dennis had already pressed the trigger!

CHAPTER V

How Dennis Came in for a Taste of Dispatch Riding

The staff cap, with its scarlet band and gold-edged peak, spun round in the air and dropped half a dozen yards away, as its late wearer sprang on to the parapet and vanished out of sight.

"Great Scott! Are you mad, Dennis?" shouted Dan, still holding him tightly; but there was no madness in the boy's face as he turned it to his cousin.

"You blithering a.s.s! You seventeen different a.s.sorted kinds of an utter idiot!" yelled Dennis. "I know that man--he is a German spy, and you've made me miss him!"

Dan Dunn's arms released their grip and fell nerveless to his sides.

"Old chap!" he exclaimed in a voice of bitter regret. "How was I possibly to tell that? Perhaps it's not too late now!" And he bounded on to the sandbags, but there was no sign of Anton van Drissel.

For a moment they leaned side by side over the parapet, trying to penetrate the darkness that once more enveloped No Man's Land, and then as Captain Bob came hurrying up, blowing his whistle for all he was worth to recall the retiring platoon, Dennis drew his own, and the shrill signal brought the men tumbling back again into the fire trench.

"Line up!" cried the captain as Dennis and Dan, both speaking at once, told him what had happened.

"I knew something had gone wrong," said Bob bitterly. "What a thousand pities the skunk got clear! Well, it's no use crying over spilt milk, and the artillery's on them now. Do you hear that?"

The momentary lull was broken by a tremendous booming from our guns in the rear, and a hurricane of sh.e.l.ls began to burst on the German front line trench and the ground beyond it, a steady, systematic bombardment, which grew in volume and increased in intensity.

"Do I hear it?" shouted Dennis. "One can't help hearing it. What do you mean?"

"I mean," replied his brother, making himself heard with considerable difficulty, "that it is the beginning of the artillery preparation, which will continue day and night without ceasing for the next week.

After that the great push is coming. That is what I mean!"

The 18-pounders, the 9.2's, the big howitzers farther to the rear--guns of every kind and calibre blended in one infernal concert, which extended for more than eighty miles, from the Yser to the Somme.

"If those Brandenburgers are wise they'll stay where they are to-night,"

said the Australian corporal. "Hallo, Fritz! Why, Dennis, here's your prisoner, after all."

A white-faced man, crying "Kamerad!" at the top of his voice, climbed in over the sandbags, trembling like a leaf, and Dennis saw that it was indeed the Saxon he had captured at the bottom of the crump-hole over there.

"I told you I would come," said the prisoner. "I am sick of it all--it is horrible. The Emperor is a man without heart. He takes good care to keep out of harm's way, and sends us to our death by the thousand.

Himmel! Look! This was my company!" And he lifted his quivering hands as he saw the litter of corpses that filled the trench from side to side.