On the right of the British line Part 13

Is it really true that while all this is going on in Leuze Wood, orchestras are playing sweet music in brilliantly lighted restaurants in London--while a gluttonous crowd eat of the fat of the land? Is it really true that women in England are dressing more extravagantly than ever? Is it really true that some men in England are unable or unwilling to share the nation's peril--are even threatening to strike?

No! No! Do not let us think that this is the true picture of England.

If it is, then, Territorials, let us die in Leuze Wood!

CHAPTER XVI

THE ATTACK

A DESPERATE SITUATION. BATTLE FORMATION. "FOR ENGLAND"

Joy! The last leap I took landed me in a trench, and I found to my great relief that it was the lower part of the square which ran through the wood. A few yards along this trench it emerged into the open, where it was in possession of the Germans.

Farman and I sat down, side by side, breathing heavily from our exertions.

"That was h.e.l.l, Farman," I said, hardly daring to trust my voice.

"Awful!"

"I hope the men are still following."

"Those that are left."

"Have a cigarette; it will buck the men up to see us smoking."

"Thanks, I will, though I'm as dry as a bone."

"Save your water; we've still got the attack to do. We've got an hour yet; that will give the men time to recover."

By this time, one by one, the men began to jump into the trench. As the men arrived, their faces pale and eyes started, we called them by name. They looked up and smiled with relief at seeing us sitting there, side by side. They recognised that the last jump had been made, and for the time being, at any rate, they were safe.

We had started through the wood, about one hundred and thirty strong, and barely eighty mustered for the final attack.

Some men of C Company appeared, threading their way along the trench.

Farther in the wood, the commander, Lieutenant Barton, came up to arrange details for the attack.

"You got your new orders in time, then," I remarked.

"Just in time. It's h.e.l.l, isn't it? I've lost heavily already, and we've still got to go over the top."

"I've got orders to take half the battalion bombers from you; where are they?"

"I would like to keep them; there are not many left, and they are badly broken up--been fighting all night."

"All right, you keep them. I'm going to form up between here and that broken tree. Will you form up farther to the left?"

"All right. Well, I'll be off; cheer oh! old chap."

"Good-bye, Barton. Good luck!"

I never saw Barton again! I heard some months afterwards that he fell, riddled with machine-gun bullets whilst leading his men into the subsequent attack.

"Pa.s.s the word for No. 8 Platoon commander," I ordered, wis.h.i.+ng to ascertain if the last platoon had arrived.

A young sergeant came up at the double, and saluted.

"I am in command, sir."

His tone and manner inspired me immensely. Notwithstanding all the danger we had pa.s.sed through, he seemed to be full of ginger and pride at finding himself in command of the platoon.

"Where is Mr. Chislehirst, then?" I asked.

"Wounded, sir, in the wood; shot through the chest. The last I saw of him he was giving another wounded man a drink from his water-bottle."

"All right; do you understand your orders?"

"Yes, sir, quite."

"Return to your platoon, and await orders to form up."

He saluted and doubled back to his men. I forget his name, but he was a fine fellow, that sergeant; quite cool, and evidently pleased at his new responsibility.

So poor old Chislehirst was. .h.i.t; fine fellow; very young, only about twenty; good company in the mess; reliable in the field. Just like him to give his water-bottle to some one else when he could go no farther.

Farman was my only subaltern left. Suddenly he gripped my arm and pointed into the wood:

"Look over there. Who are those fellows creeping along that trench?"

I looked in the direction he was pointing, and there, to my astonishment, on the very ground just vacated by C Company, about a dozen figures in bluish grey were creeping along a shallow trench. I thought at first they were coming in to surrender; but they made no signs, but were evidently making the best of cover.

What were they up to? There were only about 12 of them, and I had between 70 and 80 men. For such a small number to come out alone and attack us seemed absurd, and I waited, expecting them to throw up their hands and come in. Perhaps they thought they had not been seen.

I picked up a rifle, and taking aim, fired at the last man but one; I missed.

Still they kept creeping on. I fired a second time at the same man, and he dropped. The thing didn't seem real, seeing those heads bobbing along a trench; I felt for a moment as though I were shooting rabbits.

The next moment I realised their object. By this time they had worked well round my flanks. They were evidently a few daring men, who were trying to creep up unnoticed, with the intention of throwing bombs while we were in a congested area, occupied in forming up for the attack. A daring ruse, but a clever one; for a dozen men throwing bombs at close quarters could wipe us off the map, or, at any rate, could do enough damage by shock action of this kind to prevent our attack starting.

I dared not give any order to fire for fear of hitting the men of C Company. The situation was desperate. I had no time to spare, for zero hour was close at hand. The same thoughts were running through Farman's mind.

"Shall I have a go at them?" he said.

"Yes; form up your platoon, and stick them with the bayonet; then join the attack as a fourth wave."

I watched Farman and his platoon with bayonets fixed, creeping on all fours towards the German bombers. That was the last I saw of them, as it was within 10 minutes of zero hour, and we were not yet in battle formation.

I heard afterwards that they did the job well. But to part with the platoon and my only remaining officer at this critical moment was a great loss to me; for I could not count upon them in the attack for which I had now only three platoons left--about sixty men.